#Natasha Romanoff x Original Female Character

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

A first (very insecure) Valentine's

It's Natasha's first Valentine's Day with her girlfriend, and she struggles more with the concept of love and romance than she feared.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!OC (Katya Petrova) (the ''Forgotten Ghost'' series) Wordcount: 3.9k No warnings (except maybe Natasha being adorably helpless at love)

A/N: here to make your Valentine's Day a bit less miserable: our two favorite murder wives :)

The door of Clint's room had never looked more intimidating than on this Monday night, in the empty, dark hallways of SHIELD HQ. Everyone who lived on base had gone to find their beds, exhausted from the busy workday. But Natasha knew her best friend was still awake by the faint light coming from under his door.

Had she known that love was this embarrassing, she would have thought twice before letting Katya back into her life. Simply the thought of what she came down here to ask made her want to scratch her skin off. It was a completely new feeling that she struggled to get a grip on. This whole 'in love' thing really messed with her mind and body.

Every time she heard or read her girlfriend's name, saw her in the hallways or the cafeteria, or simply thought about her in the middle of a boring briefing, her head got fuzzy and the world faded away. All her thoughts would get consumed by Katya until she was mentally on cloud nine and felt warm all over. 

It was a very odd development for a woman who never lost focus. Last week, Maria chucked a file at her head when she'd zoned out once again in the middle of their conversation.

It was embarrassing. People teased her about it—especially Fury. If he made one more joke about her keeping her head on her neck and not in the clouds, she was going to cut his off his body. The last thing she needed was other agents taking after him and realizing she had a heart. She still struggled to accept her soft side.

"Are you gonna come in, or do I have to bring a pillow and a blanket out while you think about it?"

Once more, Natasha pulled her thoughts back to the here and now, her cheeks flushing red. She had no other choice but to push the door handle down and sheepishly step into Clint's room, closing the door behind her. What was happening to her? She used to be so confident and unbothered all the time.

Clint didn't look up from his spot on the couch, buried in manilla-colored files and papers, an empty pizza box on the floor. His apartment represented his mind. Cluttered, unorganized, yet somehow cozy. If Laura saw him like this, she'd scold him for his unhealthy lifestyle.

"What relationship question do you have for me today?" He asked casually, scribbling something in a notebook. When Natasha stayed silent, he looked up, chuckling at her expression. "Come on. If this was about work, you would have barged in like you own the place."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, looking at the horrible handwriting in his notebook instead of his face. It was difficult enough to get the words out of her throat. "The fourteenth, how serious do people take it?" 

Clint was too taken aback by the question to form an immediate answer, leaving her to cringe in the short silence that followed. The nail of her thumb painfully scratched at the nail bed of her pointer finger.

"You mean Valentine's Day?" Amusement flashed briefly across his eyes, but he was too considerate of her struggle with herself to tease her about the way she worded her question. He closed the folder in his lap, straightening his hunched back. "It really depends. Some people think it's just capitalism bullshit, but most people like showing their loved ones some extra love anyway."

Natasha definitely considered herself a hater of Valentine's Day, of capitalism and money-hungry companies in general. But it wasn't about her, was it? "Do you give Laura something?"

"Flowers. Every year." Clint's face lit up at the mention of his partner. "She says she doesn't want anything, but that's the least I can do. And I try to be home if I can." He tilted his head. "Do you plan on giving Katya something?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know if she cares about stupid holidays," she mumbled, prodding the linoleum underneath her feet with the heel of her boot. Why was a relationship so hard?

"I can feel her out for you?" Clint offered kindly, but she immediately shook her head. 

"She'll know." And Katya knowing that she asked Clint for advice was even more embarrassing.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, if she says something, I'll let you know." Natasha sent him a thankful nod, reaching for the door handle behind her, but Clint wasn't done yet. "But between you and me, I think she'll really love any gesture from you."

"Thanks."

She left his room feeling only a tad bit better. Clint's advice wasn't really useful and gave her no insight on what Katya would prefer, but it helped to know that even he participated in the holiday. And that said something, given he wasn't the most romantic person she knew.

As she walked back to her own room, Natasha once again wrecked her brain for everything she knew about Valentine's Day, but she didn't get much further than it being a red and pink color vomit with hearts everywhere. Flowers, cards, chocolates, that she also knew. But her knowledge stopped there.

Every year when the day came around, and the stores started to fill up with the nauseatingly sweet colors, she went out of her way to avoid it. Hating it was easier than digging into her soul to figure out why she hated it so much. 

Anyone talked about Valentine's Day? She pulled a grossed-out face. A love song came on the radio? She turned it off.

Now, for the first time in her life, she was forced to face it head on, and she was at an absolute loss.

What did people do on Valentine's Day? What was considered a good gift? What would Katya like to receive? 

She really loved the roses Natasha brought her for their first date, but the redhead hadn't given her anything beyond that that could indicate her preferences.

Natasha's face paled, a nauseating feeling of failure rising in her throat as she stopped in her tracks. Should she have gotten her girlfriend more gifts in the past months? Her heart started to race. Had Katya been waiting on something to follow the roses?

Oh god, Natasha knew she wasn't up for this. She was doing this all wrong. Her romantic instincts took much longer to resurface than she thought they would. And even worse, what if they were gone, forced out of her at a young age? What if she would never get that natural feel for romantic things? 

She didn't even know if it was customary to get your partner gifts often. Every week, every two weeks, every month? She thought that gifts were only for milestones, and birthdays, and the occasional holiday. Never did she stop to think that she could give Katya presents on random moments, just to be sweet. What dumb, inexperienced idiot didn't know that?

Her thoughts were spiraling. 

Twice as fast now, Natasha legged it back to her room, stopping herself from frustratingly slamming the door behind her. 

She needed to calm herself down, taking deep breaths to ease the anxiety as she paced back and forth in her room, the one next to the woman ruining her nights. Valentine's Day was supposed to be fun, exciting, an opportunity to spoil her girlfriend as she deserved.

Shaking out her arms, Natasha pondered what she could get Katya, what she should do, determined to make up for her lack of romance. Flowers were nice, but that was too simple and repetitive. Chocolates were too cliché, and Natasha would rather throw up than write something romantic in a card only to have Katya read it in front of her. Maybe someday.

As her feet wore out a path in the floor, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't stop. The fear of doing something wrong, of losing this fragile thing they'd built over the last few months was strong. It was the best thing in her life, and if she lost it, Natasha already knew she wouldn't be able to go on. 

So lost in thought—once again—she almost missed the sound of her phone. Absent-mindedly, her hand fumbled for the device in her pocket, expecting a SHIELD message or an email. Instead, her heart skipped a beat at the name displayed on screen.

Katya: Go to sleep.

Katya: I can hear you pacing.

Katya: Do you want to get something off your chest?

Yes. Natasha had several things to get off her chest, in fact. A million. But Katya was also the reason those things were there. 

She wanted to crawl into her girlfriend's arms and put it all out there. She wanted to be reassured until all those worries floated out of her head, leaving only silence behind, the kind of peaceful silence only Katya could give her. She wanted to just exist in her embrace for a while.

The yearning caught her so off-guard that it took her a second to answer the texts. It was only lately that she'd started to crave physical affection, and it seemed her body was trying to catch up on all the years she didn't have it.

Natasha: I'm alright. Thank you.

Natasha: Go to sleep yourself.

Katya: Can't. Some idiot is pacing next door and it's keeping me awake.

A genuine smile broke through her frown. She'd been doing that so much more often. Smiling, laughing. Natasha didn't even remember the last time she genuinely laughed at something before Katya came around.

She deserved something on Valentine's Day, Natasha decided. But what?

Grabbing her laptop, she sat down on her bed, opening her internet browser to the search bar. She contemplated the right way to go about this, chewing on her bottom lip in thought as her fingertips hovered over the keyboard. 

First, Natasha typed things like, "Valentine's Day gifts woman", and "Original Valentine's Day gifts", but she quickly realized this was not at all what she wanted. The gifts were far from original, and she was pretty sure Katya didn't want a pillow with her face printed on it. 

Aggressively deleting it, she tried other keywords, more specific ones tailored to Katya, but the internet didn't seem to understand her. All it showed her was mass-produced and cheaply made junk. The same things a thousand other New Yorkers would be getting from their loved ones. 

No, it had to be something more personal. But Natasha wasn't crafty enough to make anything the lists suggested, and getting Katya a knife for Valentine's Day didn't give off the right message. 

She got more frustrated by the minute, slamming the keys harder than the agents down at IT would like. Nothing that passed her screen felt right, and she didn't have much time left to find something. She'd already avoided dealing with this for as long as she could.

The taste of iron flooded her tongue, and Natasha realized she'd bitten through her lip in her desperation. She licked the blood off as she aggressively closed all the tabs in her browser. The internet had turned out to be entirely unhelpful once again.

With a quiet groan, she fell back on her bed, staring at the blank ceiling. What did she know about Katya? What did she like? They were still learning each other, getting to know each other again. A few months was nowhere near long enough to know everything about her, especially with all the guards they had up. They were definitely moving twice, if not three times, as slow as the average couple.

But there had to be something. Something Katya mentioned—

Natasha shot up at once, her fingers flying over the keys this time. 

On New Year's Day, the cafeteria had chocolate bonbons for the agents that stayed on base. They'd done that the years before, nothing special. But she remembered bumping into Katya in the hallway just outside, the blonde munching on one of them and having a couple more in the palm of her hand. When she had asked if they were any good, Katya had nodded but said they would never compare to her favorite Russian bonbons, filled with vodka liquor. 

Natasha had never been so happy with her good memory, thanking the gods for saving Valentine's Day for her. Typing the brand in the search bar, she managed to find a store in the city that had the chocolates. From there on out, it was simple to order a box and have it delivered.

Beyond relieved, Natasha shut her laptop, grinning to herself. It was the perfect gift. Thoughtful, personal, it showed that she paid attention, and it fit the Valentine's Day theme. She couldn't have picked anything better. The only thing left was for her to run to the local florist and pick up some roses.

~~~~

On February 14, Natasha was awoken at 5:30 by the nervous churning of her stomach. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that for a moment, she thought she'd caught an illness. Restless stomach, feeling jittery, cold tremors; all signs of the flu. But then she remembered the date. 

Slowly, she got out of bed, trying to ignore her bubbling stomach as she showered and got dressed. It wasn't easy. She would have liked to drag the process out forever, hide in the safe shower, but she needed to catch Katya before she left. No way was she waiting all day to give everything. 

Only when she was satisfied with the way she looked did she open her closet again, crouching to pick up the vase she'd hidden there the day before. Last night, she brought it in, the bouquet hidden in a big cardboard box that she carried through HQ. No agent had spared her a glance.

At 6, Natasha no longer allowed herself to hesitate. She gave herself a mental kick under the butt, grabbed the chocolates and flowers, and headed for the door. With one last deep breath, she slowly opened it, sticking her head through the gap to check left and right. The hallway was empty. 

She felt like a coward, sneaking around like she was dropping off drugs instead of flowers, but her reputation here within SHIELD is what saved her when she first started out, and what kept people respecting her as someone not to mess with.

Her reputation was precious to her. One day, she'd happily sacrifice it for Katya, but before that could happen, she needed to do a lot of work on herself. Growing and evolving took time.

Swift like a cat, Natasha slipped into the hallway, silently closing her door behind her. Again, she listened for footsteps, but the only thing in her ears was her own heartbeat. Her hands were clammy around the box of chocolates.

The thing she was nervous about wasn't seeing Katya. In fact, she looked forward to seeing her again. That smile that greeted her every morning when she pulled her door open was the thing keeping her alive right now. 

No, what she was nervous about was the gesture itself. Her head was filled with only doubts. Had she chosen the right things? Was it too much? Was it too little? Did Katya think Valentine's Day was stupid? Natasha thought she'd like it, because Katya liked New Year's too, and that was also a dumb holiday in her eyes. 

Much like last week, Natasha found herself staring at a wooden door. It had a small dent in it, she realized, right at eye-height. Maybe a previous resident had accidentally knocked their forehead into it.

Her heart pounded in her chest when her fist raised to knock, but she did it. Four, quick knocks, her hand retracting like it had touched fire. She shuffled in her spot, adjusting the things in her hands as she listened to Katya's shuffling on the other side. Even if she wanted to flee, it was too late now. Footsteps were swelling on.

The door swung open, a pair of blue eyes and a kind smile replacing the brown wood. Natasha's heart skipped a beat for other reasons now. Her girlfriend looked so beautiful, her hair loose and her eyes slightly puffy from sleep.

"Good mo—" Katya's voice cut off, her gaze shooting to the things in Natasha's hands.

Natasha couldn't find her voice. How could she have forgotten to think about what to say?! Her clothes, her hair, the gifts, when to give it; it had all been given thorough consideration. But not once had she thought about what she would say. Not once!

"For you," she threw out, her voice sounding ten times more calm and collected than her brain was. The smile on her face was supposed to be gentle, but it felt insecure and nervous on her lips.

Katya's beautiful eyes widened in disbelief. "Nat…" She gasped softly, carefully taking the flowers from her hand. Her nose disappeared between the rose petals, taking a whiff of the fresh scent. Her eyes sparkled when she looked up at her girlfriend again. "That's so sweet of you. Thank you so much." Another gasp flew off her lips once she clocked the bonbons. "Oh, my god. Are those the chocolates? I can't believe you remembered."

Natasha could tell how red her cheeks were based on how warm they felt. Receiving compliments had never been her strong suit. But she felt so relieved, too, realizing all her worries were for nothing because Katya would have probably been happy with a simple kiss. She'd made this way too big in her head.

Her head, that seemed to be the main problem in her life.

"Maybe don't eat them all at once. Don't think Fury would appreciate it if you're drunk on the job," she joked, feeling her usual confidence come back to her.

Katya shrugged, carefully opening the packaging. "Don't care. I'm having one right now."

Natasha chuckled at her enthusiasm, happy her gift was received so well. "It's six in the morning."

"I know." Katya grinned. "Come in, I'll make coffee." She pulled Natasha into her apartment by her sleeve, closing the door behind her. 

They didn't have time to chat or drink coffee, but for once, Natasha didn't protest. She felt light, like she could handle whatever the world was going to throw at her today. She was proud of herself, too. Taking a romantic leap was terrifying, but it clearly paid off. Her eyes followed Katya closely as she placed the roses on the coffee table, adjusting them so they looked nice.

"I didn't know you'd get me anything. I would have gotten you something too." Katya smiled as she turned around. "I thought you hated Valentine's Day."

"I do." Natasha paused. Did she still? "Kinda."

"Yet you got me something." Katya's eyes took in her appearance. A brown leather jacket that she saved for special occasions, her hair neatly styled. "And you look really put-together too. Put in extra effort to look nice?" She teased lovingly.

Natasha scoffed, looking away to hide the blush on her face. "No." Were her efforts really that obvious? If so, that was so embarrassing.

Katya hummed skeptically, closing the distance until she stood right in front of her. It was impossible to stay stubborn and not look. The pull of her bright blue irises was too strong. Natasha tentatively glanced their way, relaxing at the gentleness in them. 

"Well, either way, thank you. I really appreciate it," Katya said honestly, smiling softly. Natasha offered her a smile back, the closeness making it feel like she had to whisper.

"You're welcome."

The redhead's breath hitched in her throat when a pair of warm, rough hands cupped her cheeks. She barely had time to process before Katya stepped even closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. More than a couple dozen times they'd kissed, but it never failed to make her body react like the first time.

Before she could move her hands to hold Katya's waist, the woman had stepped back, her cheeks a light pink as well. "Consider that my gift." She teased.

"It'll do," Natasha chuckled breathily. 

It was already a better Valentine's Day than all her previous ones combined.

"Did you really expect nothing?" She asked after a moment, watching Katya make coffee in the small kitchen. It was only then that she realized her girlfriend wasn't fully dressed yet. Her cozy, fluffy cardigan wasn't work-appropriate and hung loosely over her tank top.

"I suspected something when Clint suddenly asked me about Valentine's Day last week," Katya said, looking over her shoulder as she poured some milk in her coffee cup. "You know that look in his eyes that he gets when he's trying to be nonchalant?" She chuckled.

Anger flashed through Natasha's body. "I told him not to ask," she grumbled through clenched teeth, turning her head away. Clint was an incredibly kind, selfless guy, but he was also so annoyingly stupid sometimes. 

One thing. She asked him one thing, and he couldn't keep his trap shut.

A smug grin overtook Katya's features. "So you did go to him for advice? I was just fishing."

Natasha's head snapped back to her girlfriend. Her glare did nothing but make her smirk wider, and Natasha couldn't even be mad, because she walked right into that one herself, didn't she? "Don't ever mention it again," she threatened.

Katya laughed softly, handing her her cup of black coffee. "Do you want to go out for breakfast? If you're not busy."

Natasha was, in fact, busy. But her meeting at seven also included Maria, and she could give her the details later. It wasn't any more important than spending Valentine's Day morning with her partner. "Yeah, sure. I'd love to."

Katya's smile widened. "Give me a minute to finish getting dressed." 

Pressing her coffee cup into Natasha's empty hand, she grabbed something from her dresser and disappeared into the bathroom. As the water in the sink ran, Natasha had the urge to drink Katya's coffee just to get her back for teasing her so much, but before she could actually put the cup to her lips, the blonde was back. 

Natasha nearly choked on her drink. "What are you wearing?"

Black clothing was the way to go in SHIELD. Black, dark blue, navy, the occasional dark red or green if anyone felt adventurous, but it always stayed near the darkest side of color shades. What Katya wore right now, a cherry red turtleneck, was very outside of the clothing norms. Natasha had never seen her wear anything other than black.

"What? You don't like it?" Katya asked, looking down at herself unsurely. 

"It's… red." Natasha blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the sight in front of her. "Very red."

"Yeah. But do you like it?"

To her own surprise, the answer was yes. Katya had never looked so… soft. "It's alright." So alright, in fact, that she felt slightly disappointed when she put her go-to leather jacket over it. 

"Thought I'd go with the theme." Katya smiled, chugging her coffee before grabbing her wallet and keys. 

They filed out of her room, the hallway still empty and quiet as most agents were only now starting to wake up, snoozing their alarms for five minutes more sleep. Natasha should be heading right to prepare for her meeting, but instead she followed Katya to the left, to the elevator heading for the underground garage.

It didn't make her any less of a good employee. It made her more human. 

And as she pressed the elevator button and felt Katya's hand slip into her own, she knew she was going to allow her to hold it a little bit longer today.

[americasass81]

Embracing The Darkness

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Non-Consensual Sex, Dubious Consensual Sex, Character Deaths, Violence, Blood Exchange, M/F Smut (Penetrative Sex, Gun Play, Blowjob, Teabagging, Knife Play), F/F Smut (Fingering, Oral, Spanking, Squirting), Restraints, Implied Squirting.  This is a dark story.  Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.  Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Pairings:- Steve Rogers x Original Female Character, Tony Stark x Original Female Character, Natasha Romanoff x Original Female Character, Maria Hill x Original Female Character, Clint Barton x Original Female Character.

Author’s Note 1:- This is my submission for @jtargaryen18 Halloween Challenge 2023. Having chosen the prompt below, I just had to include a little nod to our beloved Jamie with my original female character as well as using the same costume from my previous Halloween fic in this same challenge.  Yay recycling.  Anyway hope anyone who reads this enjoys it 💖

Challenge Prompt:- (The Halloween Costume Comes to Life: Remember that episode of Buffy?  You rented a costume and when you put it on, that’s who you are as long as you are wearing it.)

Author’s Note 2:- Since this story switches between the present perspective and memories (italic text) I really hope it makes sense.

Author’s Note 3:- As always, all images have been found through google search.

Synopsis:- Accepting an invitation to Tony Stark’s annual Halloween party, what will you do when an unforeseen interference with your costumes causes far reaching consequences for you and all of humanity?

Total Word Count:- 9,565

Opening your eyes to find yourself dangling off the couch at a rather awkward angle in the entertainment room, the chill settling on your skin might have been enough to have you reaching for a blanket if there was one in sight.  Unfortunately there wasn't.  What was evident to you however as you straightened up was the utter mess lettering the room in every direction.  Bottles piled on every available surface.  Clothes discarded with no evidence of the people they once belonged to.  A shoe tossed aside carelessly with no one to claim it.  It was worse than a pigsty.

Righting yourself on the couch now as you tried to figure out exactly what was going on and how you had ended up in this condition, standing up brought a whole new element to your experience however.  One you most certainly weren't prepared for.  Rising to your feet and making it a whole two paces, a sudden queasiness found you running towards the nearest available container as the contents of your stomach spewed forth before your eyes into the waiting plastic pumpkin and filled you with a terror you had never felt before.

For what came up was red.

Continuing to vomit until all the offending substance had been expelled, you now stood staring at the liquid and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what it was ... it was blood.  But how could that be?  Having heaved up everything and definitely identifying the taste of copper in your mouth, you should at least be unconscious or near death with the amount you had expelled, but you actually felt fine.  In fact, no part of you was in pain and you had never felt better.  So what then was going on?  If as you now suspected that all was well with you and the blood you just heaved up was not actually coming from within, where then did it come from and worst of all, how did it get inside you?

Walking out of the entertainment room now and heading off to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water to remove the horrid taste from your mouth, you began to think over how you had ended up here when an odd thought suddenly struck you ... where the hell was here?  Looking around you suddenly now as you tried to figure out the answer to this question, the state of the place here too troubled you also, but at least you recognised it beneath the mess.  This was the Avengers compound.

Searching through your memory now as you finally reach your destination, a cool glass of water trickling down your throat and a wayward glance at all the decorations visible around the place at least brought the reason for you being here bursting to the surface.  Tony Stark threw a party.  But in typical Tony fashion this was no ordinary party.  This was his now usual Halloween costume party and being The Avengers P.R. consultant your presence was requested.  And you just had to dress up as a vampire princess.

But what had any of that to do with all of this and what had happened to your costume?  Oh sure parties were messy and a Stark party was notorious for being a wild experience, but he always employed people to clean things up.  This had clearly not happened here.  In fact the opposite seemed to have occurred.  Finishing up your water now and taking stock of the t-shirt and boxers shielding your modesty, you now took in the state in this room too and discovered some things you had not previously noticed.

While well lit with electricity, all the windows were covered over and the substance spattered on the walls and other areas which now caught your attention was definitely blood.  Add to that the fact that you couldn't remember most, if any, of last night and you now had to wonder if it was possible that you had survived some horrific event.  Refilling your glass now to steady your nerves as your hands shook from this new information, another glance off to your left however alerted you to the presence of someone's leg.  It seems you weren’t as alone as you thought after all.  Slowly moving towards it now to see who had partied too hard here, the glass slipped from your hand and shattered the silence all around you however as the owner of the leg came into view and a shroud of darkness lifted from you to reveal how your night here had started.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -START OF MEMORY #1- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Zipping up your costume, buckling the belt in place and slipping your feet into the knee high boots, you had to admit this party couldn't have come at a better time.  Thoroughly exhausted and seriously in need of a good time, no one knew how to throw a party quite like Tony Stark and you were more than ready to let your hair down.  After all the problems created in New York and Steve all but crippling the U.S. intelligence and security services, being P.R. consultant for the Avengers was nowhere near as glamorous as it had once seemed.  In fact it was your living nightmare.  But at least you were good at your job which kind of made this your reward.

Grabbing your jacket then and driving to the compound, you were still a tiny bit unhappy with the lateness of the event, but you figured Tony knew what he was doing.  After all, he had told you as much when he handed you the invitation personally amid your complaints that five minutes to midnight was no time to kick off one of his shindigs.  At the very least you argued that he should consider the effect such a late hour would have on people's constitution, to which he gleefully replied that sacrifices had to be made in the spirit of debauched revelry.

Sighing at the time upon realizing that Tony Stark would never let anything get in the way of a good party, you took the invitation, promised him you would indeed show up and securing your costume here you were ... stepping through the main doors of the compound ten minutes before the appointed time.  Removing your jacket now and grudgingly discarding it upon the first pile of clothes you came across, you marveled at the wondrously spooky scenes all around you until you reached the entertainment room and was blown away.

Noticing now all the superheroes decked out in costumes that most ordinary people wore every Halloween, a smile actually graced your features when at the same time some Stark and Avenger employees' costumes caught your attention.  They had come as their favorite heroes.  Stepping through these doors now and finally feeling the buzz of the festivities all around you, you might have questioned the mild dizziness and funny sensations now taking place within your body if not for the image that greeted you by the bar.  Talking discreetly to Sam and Bucky while decked out in a suit that most definitely could have come from Tony Stark's closet, you would have suspected that Steve had shown up as some businessman if not for the piece visible just through the opening in his jacket.  The man was packing some serious heat.

Staying silent now and moving quietly along the outer perimeter as mist unknowingly formed around you and concealed your activities from the party at large, you finally reached the bar only for Sam and Bucky to swiftly move between you and the man that had captured your attention.  It seemed they perceived you as some type of threat and perhaps they were right.  Smiling now however at their response while trailing his eyes up and down your exquisite form, it seemed their mob boss friend did not hold the same assessment of your skills and waving his flunkies aside, stretched his hand out to beckon you closer.

Moving forward now with a grace you had not previously known, you took the offered hand and waited to see what the man would do.  "Steve Rogers, head of the New York Mafia at your service," he introduced before leaning forwards and placing the most tender of kisses against the back of your hand.  "And you are?" he then questioned as he straightened up and his blue eyes locked with yours.

"Jemisha Targaryen, vampire princess," you replied with a smile while embracing the roleplaying game Earth's first Avenger seemed fully engaged in and the man now whispering your name like a prayer in response would have been enough to stop your heart had that not already happened.  Not that you had even noticed.  Alerting a passing waiter now for drinks and taking you to a quiet closed off corner, a considerable amount of time passed in his splendid company until a walk through the compound found both of you alone in the kitchen trying to find any excuse not to become intimately acquainted with each other.  But the excuses never materialized.

Smacking his lips against yours as if a lifetime of intimacy had passed between you, Steve reluctantly pulling back for air gave you the perfect opportunity you needed to get familiar with the man before you.  Admiring again the suit that enveloped his frame so ideally while also exuding that air of danger a man in his position should possess, it pained you to peel him out of it, but it had to be done.  Returning to your lips now as the jacket lay discarded while your nimble fingers swiftly opened his crisp white shirt, Steve now moved both of you to the couch and seating you gently upon the back, dropped to his knees on the floor before you.  Gazing down on him now with lipstick smeared from his attention, you now wondered what he had planned as his gun appeared before your face and an inquisitive look from him told you some action from you was now required.

Looking quizzically now between him and the metal object that could quite easily do you irreparable harm, it seemed his patience finally ran out as the man below you finally spoke.  “Well come on sweetheart, this baby isn’t going to lubricate itself.  Time to put that mouth to work.”

Shocked now by what he had planned as his other hand pushed aside the crotch of your bodysuit and toyed with your folds, your hand reaching out to raise the gun towards your mouth shocked you even more.  Apparently you wanted this too.  Placing your mouth now over the barrel and mimicking events that were still to come, Steve’s fingers and tongue getting acquainted with your intimate area did more than an adequate job of getting you ready before he decided enough preparation had been done.  Delighting now in the feelings he was creating as he slowly and carefully manipulated the metal object into your pussy, you would have enquired if the thing was loaded, but he never gave you the chance.  Reaching in as far as it would go and satisfied with your compliance when you finally nodded for him to continue, Steve now rose to his feet and resumed kissing you again as his hand, the gun and your hips worked your pussy into a frenzy that not only triggered your first release of the night but also catapulted you and Steve over the top of the couch and onto the kitchen floor behind the island unit.

Beyond amazed now that you had landed as you had and not caused the gun to fire, you thanked Steve for his obvious control the first chance you got.  Laughing next when New York’s Mob Boss finally stopped assaulting your mouth and gently removed his weapon from your core, the aftershocks should have kept you satiated but it seemed you wanted more.  So tossing the gun aside now and tackling Steve to the point where you were now in charge, you quickly unbuckled his pants and reaching it to remove his package, smiled in satisfaction when no extra clothing was discovered.  The man it seemed was ready to go.  Moving your bodysuit to the side again as Steve had previously done, slotting his cock into you channel now and moving atop the still fully clothed mob boss as his massive rod pounded your cervix over and over again, your second orgasm of the night ripped through you now as your fangs buried themselves deep in Steve's neck.

Placing your hand over his mouth now to silence his screams while his hand reached out uselessly towards his discarded weapon, your hips, thighs and fangs kept him in place now and a satisfied moan left your lips as the last of his life's essence flowed down your throat while his phallus released one final load against your shuddering walls.  Looking down at his almost lifeless body now as you finally detached your mouth from his battered neck, you knew the world could not handle his loss.  Slicing your wrist then and placing it against his lips, you reached out with your powers and coaxed the man beneath you to accept the final gift you offered.  Remaining like that just long enough then for his pupils to give the spark of evidence that signal the change would take, you now separated yourself from him and leaving him there, returned to the party.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -END OF MEMORY #1- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Returning to Steve's rumpled and discarded body now, your mind tried to reconcile what you had just remembered with what you were currently seeing and feeling, but things just weren't syncing up.  Reaching forward then to check on the condition of the super soldier, the memory of the blood you had just discarded stopped you dead before your hand even touched his skin.  This had to be a dream.  A very bad one at that.  Changing your mind now and rushing from the room to see if someone else could explain what had happened here, you next found your way to the indoor pool while Steve slept on, oblivious to the changes that would soon signal his transformation.

Opening the door here now not all together surprised to find this place relatively untouched given that Tony usually closed it off during parties, a sticky spot touching your foot did cause some apprehension however given what you had just experienced.  Raising your foot now to check out the offending substance, your heart now skipped a beat when your fingers touched your sole and came away red.  Something gruesome seemed to have occurred here too.  Moving farther into the room now, the image of Natasha's body laying in the center of the room decked out in the robe of the goddess Athena would have tricked anyone looking in here to believe that she was lost in peaceful slumber.  But you knew different.  As did the bloodstain lingering atop her left breast which triggered another memory flow.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -START OF MEMORY #2- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Righting your bodysuit and walking back towards the party now to find Natasha, dressed as the goddess Athena, heading in your direction, the image of Steve beginning his undead journey forced you now to ignore what you had become in favor of deflecting the redhead from discovering your secret.  Smiling at her now as you stood before her and asked her why she had chosen the goddess Athena as her costume, her eyes still traveling towards the kitchen as she confessed to being the wisest of all the Avengers told you that a greater distraction was still needed.

Locking your eyes with her now as you allowed your hypnotic skills to take you over once more, five minutes later and the pool room hid your activities perfectly from those individuals like Natasha/Athena that might discover what you were up to.  Coaxing her farther into the room now as you engaged the lock behind you, a hunger you had never felt before took hold as your eyes feasted on her ethereal form.  She was beyond beautiful.  Moving forwards now at a speed you never imagined possessing and coming to stand behind the redhead, you wrapped your arms around her waist as your lips came to nestle against her ear.

"Tell me beautiful, has anyone told you how divine you look?  Godhood totally becomes you," you uttered before your mouth then moved lower and your tongue snaked out to lick a stripe along her neck.  Delighting in the squeal that left her lips now and the thrumming you felt pulsing in her veins, you would have sunk your teeth into her right there if your body still wasn't hungry for something else.  Something far sweeter.

Moving in front of her now while simultaneously lowering her body onto the floor, the chill of the tiles beneath her might have caused her to rethink what you were proposing if not for the hold your powers still had on her.  Spreading her legs open now as your lower body moved between them, you placed your lips quickly against hers before moving down her body with the promise of giving her an experience she would never forget.  Looking up at her now with a smirk as you lifted up her robe and discovered her naked underneath, you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer as her exquisite aroma called out to you.  It was almost like her own super power.

Laying down flat between her legs now and placing them over your shoulders you would, before this activity was over, be extremely grateful that your current state did not require you to breathe.  You could stay here all night.  Latching your lips onto her intimate folds now as your tongue darted out and savored the taste of the first woman you had ever touched in this way, you would have questioned where your skills and knowledge came from, but you didn’t really care.  And it seemed Natasha/Athena didn’t care either.  Writhing and moaning beneath you now as her body tried both to pull away from you and also move closer, her nectar flowing from her and flooding your mouth was beyond distracting.  It was something you couldn’t get enough of.  Sweet and slightly salty at first, the seconds after her first orgasm subsided and the flavor changed.  Delicious now in a way you couldn’t quite describe, each release brought more and more of this delightful substance to your senses until she finally couldn’t give you any more and squirted out her last powerful release.

Satisfied now with your accomplishment as the goddess of wisdom, craft and warfare lay in a blissed out pool beneath your still wanting body, you moved yourself up hers now and tried to get her to focus what little consciousness she had left on you.  “So beautiful, are you ready to experience that final high that will forever ruin you for all mortal beings?”

Trying to focus now on your words as her body still shook from the experience you had just given her, an imperceptible nod of her head was all the confirmation you were going to receive.  Smiling in triumph now as your fingers returned to her oversensitive core and began manipulating her walls once again, your lips resting against her newly exposed breast gave little indication of what you had planned.  At least until your fangs slid home.  Suckling the life giving liquid from her left breast now as your fingers turned her screams of terror into screams of pleasure, her final spasm as the liquid leaving her body became little more than a trickle told you it was time.

Removing yourself from her breast and pussy now as her life signs began to dwindle, you now sliced open your neck and bringing her mouth towards your essence, urged her to accept this final gift.  Claiming her last ounce of strength then, she followed your gentle prodding and now you stood over your second victim of the night wondering how long it would take for this unique creature to embrace her new reality.  Not that you would be here to witness it.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -END OF MEMORY #2- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Shocked again now by what this memory showed you you had done, yet still not believing it, you now looked around the room in the hopes of finding something to cover the evidence of yet another Avenger you had managed to dispatch.  Failing in this endeavor however and deciding that the clothes you wore were nowhere near good enough, you argued with yourself silently before at last accepting you had no other option.  Gingerly reaching forward now and apologizing to Natasha both for what you had done and what you were doing now, you carefully removed her robe and straightening it out, covered her body from head to toe before leaving the scene of your latest crime.

Standing out in the hall now as tears streamed silently down your cheeks, you took a moment just to feel the loss of these two fallen heroes before wondering what to do next or more precisely what you might find.  Walking away now from the changing body of the Black Widow and moving farther into the depths of this revered building, a quick glance into Tony’s lab and a voice in the back of your mind told you to go inside.  But you didn’t want to.

Fearing now what awaited you beyond these walls, your mind was made up however.  Raising your hand now and placing it on the keypad, you hoped Tony hadn’t sealed this place off to everyone except himself.  Listening intently now for the buzz that would signal success and still somewhat surprised once you were accepted, you cautiously took one step at a time inside before the sight you now feared the most greeted you here too.  Lifelessly stretched out on the floor in front of his beloved orange Audi R8, the two familiar spots visible on his wrist only because you were looking for them  told you everything your memory would soon reveal.  You had encountered him too.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -START OF MEMORY #3- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Finding yourself back in the entertainment room again, you picked up a drink from the tray of a passing waitress before heading off to the same corner Steve had first taken you to.  Sitting down now and taking a sip of the cool beverage, you didn’t exactly dislike the taste but it seemed something else was calling out to you.  Closing your eyes then and reaching out with your powers, you honed in on the smallest noise, smell and sound and began to filter through them for some tasty morsel until the presence of two warm hands resting on your shoulders opened your eyes to the arrival of someone your body craved more than all others.  He was here.

Staying perfectly still now while trying to rein in the impulses that came with your new body and seemed to be wreaking havoc everywhere you went, your eyes lit up when Tony vaulted the back of the couch, flopped down beside you and locked his piercing gaze with yours.  But this wasn’t the Tony Stark you knew.  Sitting beside you now in the blue and black racing suit of his Formula 1 team with the word STARK emblazoned diagonally in large white letters on his chest, the confidence he displayed in most aspects of his life seemed somehow magnified now …  and it was completely directed at you.

“Well, well, well Jemisha, look at you all decked out in practically … nothing,” he greeted with a smirk as his eyes roamed over your very scantily covered body while his fingers glided up and down along your closest thigh.  “You hoping to have it off with a race car driver darling?”

Looking over him now while simultaneously trying to fight the sensations his fingers were awakening again within you, a woman coming up asking for his autograph and practically throwing herself at him awakened something more primal and darker in you.  It was something that screamed of jealousy.  Calling on your powers again this night, you suggested she walk away and bother someone like Thor before rising from the couch and pulling Tony up with you.  You needed him away from here.  Leading both of you then through the compound , you waited until Tony opened up his personal lab before using your considerable strength to push him inside as the door closed behind you.

Laughing now as Tony actually seemed surprised by your eagerness, this surprise was soon magnified almost tenfold when asking which car you wanted to take for a test drive, the billionaire found the wind knocked out of him when his back came in contact with his vibrant orange Audi R8.  Composing himself now as the air returned to his lungs and he attempted to raise himself up off the front of the vehicle, you kissing him deeply before peeling open the zipper on his racing suit stopped him cold.  This he wanted to experience.

Placing your hands on his thighs now, you winked up at him as you sank to your knees between his outstretched legs.  Removing one hand then, you withdrew him from his boxers and smiled at the gasp he released as your hand gave a firm squeeze before placing your lips gently against his tip.  Leaving them there then and doing nothing else as Tony waited above you, you now threw your head back and laughed with unbridled glee when Tony finally whined at you to do something before he combusted.  Thinking then of all the things you could do to him, you now patted his thigh with the hand still resting there before moving forwards once again.

Taking Tony in your mouth again, you now began a steady rhythm of licking and sucking his cock as your free hand wrapped itself around his shaft and started twisting back and forth along his impressive length.  Taking more and more of him into your mouth then while Tony egged you on, the longer you manipulated his rod, the less your hand was needed so you now moved it down to fondle his sac as you tried not to gag on his sheer girth.  Almost choking now as your hand squeezed and caressed him while drool and saliva dripped from your chin down his racing suit, the man above groaned once more in protest when your warm mouth left his pulsating phallus.  But you weren’t done with him yet.  Not by a long shot.

Placing both of your hands back on his thighs now and moving your head forward beneath his shaft, his firm hands reaching for your head stopped you momentarily as his wide eyes locked with yours.  “Jemisha, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

Leaning towards him now and kissing him again while this time nipping his lower lip enough to draw blood, you then removed his hands and pushed him back against the car once more as your mouth descended back towards his balls.  Wrapping your lips around one now, you hollowed out your cheeks and vigorously began to suck as Tony gasped, moaned, cursed and generally came apart above you.  And this reaction only increased when your mouth emptied and began the same treatment of his other testicle .  And it fed your confidence.  Soon robbed of the ability to form any coherent words at all and barely capable of holding himself up, his hand reached down now to stroke his shaft in the hopes of ending his torment and hastening his release.  But you weren’t having any of it.

Slapping his hand away now and biting his sac just enough to cause him pain, your mouth and hand returning to his cock filled the room with sounds you wished you could listen to forever.  But hearing them now would do fine.  Employing your supernatural skills now, you licked, kissed, nipped, sucked and squeezed in all the ways it seemed that drove Tony wild and just as you felt his heart quicken that extra beat, you swallowed him whole and drank down everything he had to give you.  Literally.

Lodging him snugly in your throat as deep as he would go and thankful once more that you no longer had to bother with the pesky task of breathing, you waited just long enough for Tony’s whining to start again before sinking your fangs into his package.  Washing down his cum with the life-giving liquid that had just previously been supplementing the organ now feeding your being with everything that was uniquely Tony, drinking slow and deep of this savory bouquet now, Tony came out of his orgasmic haze just long enough to realize what you were doing.  And he was no longer happy.  Trying to detach you from him now while also about to scream out for help, you now released him, stood up straight and facing Tony promised him he could live forever if only he was brave enough to take that final step.

Nodding as much as he could now given his lack of strength as his heartbeat began to fail, you brought his lips to your neck and slicing across it watched in satisfaction as he latched on without a second thought.  Drinking freely from you now until you feared for your own survival, you gently pulled him from you and kissed him one last time before dropping his body back onto the car.  Walking over to Tony’s workstation now and dropping down onto his chair as his lifeless body slid to the floor, you took a few moments to recover from his feeding and work yourself towards completion before standing back up and walking towards the door.  Giving one final lingering look behind you now before exiting the lab and leaving behind the body of a man you so admired in life but cherished even more now in death, all you could do was smile at the thought that Tony Stark’s last living blowjob had actually changed his life.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -END OF MEMORY #3- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Leaving your memory of the previous night behind you now and returning to the present, you knew now reaching out to Tony would reveal the same result as Steve and Natasha.  All three were dead at your hand.  Looking around the lab now for anything that would hide the body from view, a portable workstation seemed to be your best option and so pulling it forwards a weird thought suddenly hit you … you missed your vampire strength.  Eventually placing it in front of the Audi and finally satisfied that no one would see what had transpired here, you now left the lab and actually welcomed the isolation that greeted you outside the room.  You needed somewhere quiet to think.

Walking through the compound now in a complete daze with no idea of your destination however, you soon found yourself outside the gym with the horrible feeling that your costumed alter ego had visited her brand of destruction here too.  Contemplating going inside to investigate or simply walking away and keeping the possible memory of events here locked away where they could never torment you, you instead waited a heartbeat before twisting the lock and heading inside.  And you were glad you did.

Looking every bit as pristine now as it always did when the Avengers and their employees were not dripping sweat everywhere, you actually sat down now on the nearest bench and released a grateful sigh of relief.  Nothing supernatural had happened here.  Taking a few moments now to relish in this small victory and perhaps let go of all the tension you had been holding onto in anticipation of yet another death to come to terms with, you eventually started to feel more like yourself and so rising from the bench made a beeline back towards the door.  That is, until the faint echo of laughter grabbed your attention.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -START OF MEMORY #4- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Kicking the door closed behind you as Maria Hill pulled you deeper into the gym after finding you wandering around the compound, you couldn’t believe this was really happening.  Admiring her from afar for her gorgeous looks and ball busting attitude, the idea that she would actually find you interesting was a complete surprise.  But this?  Watching her now in her maid’s outfit as she skipped across the gym floor and climbed her way into the ring, her perfectly toned ass on display as she bent over and manipulated her body through the ropes had you practically creaming yourself.  Damn, you couldn’t remember seeing anything sexier.

Delighting now in this thought, as well as the laughter emanating from the woman currently teasing you as she winked at you before straightening up, you let all caution and pretense fall away and taking to flight, landed softly in the ring just as Maria righted herself.  Much to her shock and awe.  Removing your adjustable collar now as Maria glanced around between where you had been and where you were now, a girlish giggle you never imagined her capable of creating took you by surprise as you closed the distance between you before placing your lips against hers.  Kissing her deeply then before burying your nose in her hair and inhaling her scent which hinted at her excitement, both of you burst out laughing as she tripped over herself and caused both of you to hit the canvas.

Relishing in this opportunity now as she seized the initiative for her lips and tongue to devour any of your flesh they could latch onto, you quickly remembered what you were and the powers you possessed.  Which meant this treatment could not stand.  Tossing her gently off you then and using your incredible speed to move both of you to the nearest accessible corner, you next removed one of the drapes from your costume’s belt and made short work of tying Maria’s hands to the ring post.  Smiling now at your handy work as she tried unsuccessfully to free herself, your body resting against hers stopped her suddenly … as did your words.  “Such a naughty girl I have here thinking she can take the lead with me.  What should your Queen do with her maid who’s forgotten her place?” you whispered against her ear as your hands began to roam underneath her maid’s outfit before pulling her panties and allowing them to snap back into place.

Yelping slightly now at the sting left behind by this action, you might have taken pity on her if she had only chosen the words she uttered now more carefully.  “Oh come on Jemisha, you know you like it when I take charge.  Waiting for you one could die of boredom.”

“Jemisha?  Did you just call me Jemisha?” you asked incredulously as you tore her skirt from her now before continuing.  “When did I ever give a lowly maid such as you permission to call me by my name?  Seems someone’s looking to be punished,” and with that you reached around her front and snatching the duster from her apron, brought it down on Maria’s ass numerous times as the brunette cried, shook and pleaded until suddenly the sound you longed for most left her lips.  And oh how delightful her moans were.

Untying her now before lowering her back onto the canvas again, you now kissed her tenderly before moving your hand down her trembling body to completely remove her panties that gave away the effect your actions had on her..  Naked from the waist down now and dripping slick between her thighs, you allowed her to retain the top part of her costume as you then tore open the crotch of your bodysuit to give her easy access.  Laying on your back now and sitting Maria on your face, you waited now until her mouth descended to your pussy before letting your powers take control.  Floating towards the ceiling now and trapping Maria between it and your own body, she might have been panicked by the scene unfolding if she wasn’t currently occupied elsewhere.  Devouring her now as she too began to eat you out, orgasm after orgasm rocked through both of you and threatened to consume all that you were, but you had other plans.

Removing your mouth from her pussy now as she continued to dine on everything you had to offer, you gently began to kiss along her thigh until you felt her pulse thrumming beneath the surface.  This was what you craved.  Nibbling a while longer now as your fingers entered her again and worked her closer to one last, powerful orgasm, right when Maria bit down on your clit did your fangs pierce her thigh and puncture her femoral artery.  Drawing out her blood now that was so much sweeter as your fingers continued to eke out her release, the warmth flowing through you was still an interesting contrast to the cooling body above you.  Maria Hill was not much longer for this world.

Grudgingly removing yourself from her now and carefully turning around to face her, you kissed her swiftly with lips moistened by her blood before bringing your nail across your neck and allowing all that you were to transform her into a creature like you that would now call the night her own.  Lowering both of you back down to ring floor then as your wound closed and your blood stopped flowing, you picked up Maria’s legs and dragging her body towards the apron, lifted her down onto the ground before raising the side canvas and placing her safely underneath.  Dropping the canvas back down then to shield her body from prying eyes, you left the gym now in search of your next adventure before morning’s light ended the party and whatever fun this was.  Which is what happened now it seemed.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -END OF MEMORY #4- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Deciding this time however to forego confirming that your memory of what transpired here was real in favor of what your eyes now focused on, the drape off your costume dangling where you’d tied Maria’s hands was confirmation enough.  So you accepted where she was, along with the horror of what had happened here, without looking any further.  Reaching out now instead and running your fingers along the fabric as you pictured Maria once more squirming in pain and pleasure as her duster colored her ass a glorious shade of red, you standing behind her suddenly crystalized in your mind as a wayward thought suddenly struck you.  You had woken up dressed in the clothes you now wore.  Which didn’t belong to you.

So where then was your vampire princess costume?

Thinking now on where you had been so far and where you, in your normal frame of mind, might be most likely to strip off your clothes, the guest quarters Tony had set up for you here at the compound seemed the most obvious destination.  Leaving the gym now and taking the elevator up to the living floor while trying to figure out how you were now decidedly human, the elevator doors opening and alerting you to your arrival would furnish you with this answer and a whole bucketload of extra information however as you now walked down the hall towards your room only to stop suddenly when you noticed Hawkeye’s door slightly open.

Which was extra proof that something wasn’t right.  Even here among their colleagues, no Avenger would ever leave their room door open.  Unlocked?  Maybe.  But definitely not open.  Unsure now of whether or not you should trespass and also mindful of what you might find given all the surprises the compound had already dropped in your lap, a voice in your head told you to put on your big girl pants and see if death had left its mark here too.  And as you pushed open the door that’s exactly what you did.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -START OF MEMORY #5- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Watching Clint walk ahead of you, swaying slightly with his axe resting on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile a little.  He really seemed to be enjoying the night.  Decked out in a lumberjack outfit that showed off muscles you never really noticed him having before, the closer you got to him the more you had to admit that there was something about this rugged side of him that just turned you on.  Then again maybe it was just the night that was in it and whatever this costume was doing to you.

Looking at your costume now and reminding yourself why you were still prowling around these corridors, the images now of the rugged woodsman tickled your fancy once again and altered your plans for now.  Seizing your opportunity now with Clint's inebriated state and no one else around, you waited just long enough for him to open his door before slipping beneath his stumbling form and helping to hold him upright as any good friend would do.  Mumbling an incoherent thanks that you could just about make out until his head turned towards you and acknowledged who you were, a triumphant smirk graced your features as he perked up a bit and managed to speak clearly.  “Come on in honey, let me taste a little darkness.”

Pausing momentarily now to look into his bloodshot eyes, Clint staggering closer into your personal space however unleashed two more powerful weapons against the part of you that told you it was wrong to take advantage of him in his current condition.  His scent and his blood pulsing beneath the surface.  Delighting now in your hesitancy and swirling his fingers along your shoulder, he now moved his lips against your ear and tried once more in slurred speech.  “Please honey, I know I can make you come like no other.”

Smiling to yourself now as you thought about what he said in conjunction with all the fun you had participated in so far this night, you wanted to inform him what a bold statement this was.  But something stopped you.  Giving him the once over again while he raised an eyebrow in response as if to say well what’s it to be, that little voice that made its presence known throughout the night intervened yet again.  It was time for another romp it seemed.  Looking along the corridor now in both directions before reminding yourself of your earlier appraisal of the man beside you, you figured if he was willing to offer himself up, drunk and all as he was, who were you to refuse.

Taking the initiative then and walking him into the apartment, the door closing and locking in your wake didn’t even reach the level of a warning as Clint’s lips latched onto yours before your back hit the nearest wall.  A bit taken aback now by his forcefulness as he always struck you as the more timid of the Avengers, or at the very least lacking any real passion in the romance department, the surprises kept on piling up when he reached down into his boot and produced one hell of an impressive hunting knife.  Seems he wasn’t as intoxicated as he had led you to believe.

Trailing it along your neck now as the sensation and sense of danger released a flood of arousal down your thigh, the blade moving lower and lower towards your flower brought a look of disapproval you never knew him capable of creating as Clint now dropped to his knees and discovered your secret.  The crotch of your bodysuit told him you had already been breached.  Tutting loudly now as he rose back up to meet your gaze, the blade grazing across your chest with a bit more pressure now than its previous trip along your neck made you wonder what he had in mind.  But you wouldn’t have long to wait to find out.

“Guess someone’s been a naughty vampire princess tonight.  You want to tell me who’s been all up in this precious cunt Jemisha?” he asked and before you could even form any kind of witty response, the blade sliced your bodysuit just enough for Clint to gain access to your tits since your pussy was already open to him.  Latching firmly onto one of your nipples now as you tried to get the upper hand in this situation, you ended up losing the battle however when Clint dropped his hand towards your lower body again and this time found his way to plunging the handle of the knife into your unprepared pussy.

Screaming out now from the shock of this unexpected penetration since you were nowhere near wet enough despite the slick already waiting, you might have wondered how he achieved this task without slicing his palm open, but to be honest you really couldn’t focus much on this question at the present time.  Continuing to work the knife handle in and out of your core while his warm mouth suckled on your breasts as if he could somehow draw nourishment from them, your eyes actually rolled back in your head as a powerful orgasm rocked your body and made you acknowledge that maybe he was right.  He could be your best yet.

Coming down from your high now as Clint continued to assault your breasts while teasingly withdrawing the knife’s handle, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek revealed a strong leather glove you had totally missed before.  How the hell had that happened?  Unsettled now by this total lack of awareness on your part but also putting it down to the fact that he totally caught you unawares with his drunk woodsman performance, you wondered what he had planned now as he took your hand and led you to the bedroom where your tender body hitting the soft sheets covering the bed actually felt nice for a change.  After all, this was the most softness you had had this night.

Gazing at your ethereal form now while giving the impression he could read your mind, you actually laughed a little when Clint informed you that while anywhere would do to get things started, a bed was the only place a vampire princess deserved to be ravished.  Honing in on this last word now as Clint removed his boots and crawled onto the bed next to you, you swiftly remembered what you were when he reached out, removed two of the remaining drapes hanging from your costume and made to tie your hands to the frame of the bed behind you.  But that could not be allowed.

Misting away from him now as a powerful wind materialized out of nowhere and slammed him into the very position you had just vacated, coalescing back to yourself before a wide eyed Clint left you in no doubt.  He had not expected this.  Smiling seductively at him now as the wind you commanded held him in place, you contemplated using these powers to keep him there, but where was the payback in that?  Here he was a mere mortal, with no extraordinary powers either in his normal life or the existence gifted to him this night, and he had dared to tie you down.

You.  The monarch of the night.  The queen of darkness.

Hell even the great and arrogant Tony Stark hadn’t pulled a stunt like that.

Becoming more furious now the longer you thought about what Clint had attempted, picking up the same costume drapes that he had attempted to use on you, you now moved forwards and tying each of his hands in place, gazed into his equally furious eyes before speaking.  “Seriously Clint, did you really think you stood a chance against me?  Shame on you,” you added with a disappointed tutting sound before grasping his chin and kissing him harshly.  Checking out his position and costume once more now before getting to the real fun, you did however decide that his arrogance warranted playing with him a bit first.

“Look at you all strung up for me now.  Bet you’re sorry you didn’t use the sharper end of your knife on me now baby.  Or better yet your axe,” you laughed now before placing your legs on either side of his right thigh and sinking down on it.  Moving back and forth along it now as you watched him pull against the restraints, you smiled triumphantly when reaching out and squeezing him through his pants caused him to curse you out before his head shot forwards and attempted to connect with yours.

Too bad for him that you were faster.

Displaying the fury of your race now that he would behave like this when you were so close to completion and had planned to get him off too at some point, you now decided some form of punishment deserved to be leveled against him.  Reluctantly removing yourself from his thigh then, you also alighted the bed and picking up the knife discarded by his boots you returned to your previous position and watched Clint’s look of anticipation morph into one of fear.  This was dangerous territory now.

Forcing him to look into your eyes now before compelling him not to make a sound, you next cut open his top and began placing shallow cuts all over his chest and shoulders.  Licking the blood from each one then before moving onto the next as he thrashed beneath you, you meticulously worked your way down his body and upon reaching his hips, smiled up at him through blood stained lips just as the knife slipped under his belt and cut it open.  Impressed now with the edge on the weapon, you might actually have admired the strength of his gloves to have protected him from slicing his palm earlier if time was on your side.  However that was not the case.

Noticing now that Clint’s pallor and demeanor was beginning to change as a possible result of his many, many wounds and accompanying blood loss, you swiftly removed his cock from its confines and actually had to marvel at what was revealed.  The man turned out to be very well endowed.  Tossing the knife to the side now and placing your hand around his substantial length, you quickly got to work getting him to full mast before moving your pussy over his rod and sinking down.

Gasping a little now from the feeling of fullness you hadn’t naturally experienced that night, you took a moment to appreciate what he now brought to the equation before your desire for release got the better of you.  You needed to come on this cock.  Bouncing on his package now, your head thrown back in pure ecstasy, you wished you had let Clint scream in passion along with you, but it couldn’t be helped.  The last thing you wanted now as you skimmed your fingers over his blood stained chest and chased your own orgasmic bliss was some man with an inflated sense of his own importance telling you all the ways he would make you suffer for what you were doing to him.

As if he had that kind of power.  As if any of them had when it came to you.

No, focusing back now on the feelings building within you as Clint’s breathing began to falter, you worked yourself over that last hurdle and released your arousal around his cock as your walls began to milk him of everything his mortal body had to offer.  And then you took more.  Releasing him from your compulsion now, you asked him quickly if he wanted to live and when his reply was a haggard, coughed out yes, you leaned forwards towards his wrist and sinking your fangs deep into the veins, drained him almost completely before reaching for his knife again.  Dragging it across the top of your chest now and urging him to drink, you held him in place just long enough for a slight flush to return to his cheeks.

Removing yourself from his rod and bed then, your next task was to take stock of the environment around you.  With Clint still secured to the bed and well on his way to an undead existence, your sole focus now could shift to you.  Gazing from the drapes still wrapped around his arms to the costume from whence they came, it was easy to see how the night’s activities had taken their toll here too.  Now lamenting the fact that your deposit was well and truly forfeit thanks to you and Clint, you searched through the immediate area and coming across an extra t-shirt and pair of boxers belonging to your latest victim, took one last look at the man in question before returning to the living room and closing the door behind you.

Peeling off the remains of your costume then and redressing in your borrowed attire, you sat down swiftly on the couch now as a wave of dizziness hit you again for the second time this night.  Recovering in practically the blink of an eye and ignoring it now as you had earlier, you then headed out of the apartment but not before picking up Clint’s axe, placing it atop your shoulder as he had done and returning once more to the party downstairs.

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛 -END OF MEMORY #5- 🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

Which was exactly where you had woken up.

Standing in the living room now and walking towards the room your memory had just confirmed would contain one more dead Avenger, the same memory you had just revisited still could not prepare you for the shock of finding Clint laying on the bed where you had left him.  Covered in blood with his costume cut open and his cock still hanging out after you had finished with him, the clothes you now wore missing from this room sent a chilling shiver down your spine.  But that was the least of your problems given that Clint had begun to stir.

Walking towards the bed now under the impression that your eyes were playing tricks on you, the drapes snapping as Clint’s body broke free and reached out to grab a hold of the person responsible for his current condition might have been enough to give you a heart attack if the bedroom door hadn’t at that very moment filled with four more bodies that now brought a whole new wave of terror crashing down upon you.  Your victims had awakened.

Flanked by his three colleagues now as you fought and raged against the man at your back, something in their demeanor however indicated you were in more danger than at any previous time in your young life.  Tony, Natasha, Steve and Maria standing before you.  Clint at your back, his arms locked around you.  All five heroes you had fucked, fed from and summarily dispatched and now with blinding clarity you knew where all that blood had come from.  It was theirs.  Conflicted now between figuring out how their transformations had stuck while yours had not, a far greater realization made its presence known however as Maria turned and locked the door before all four former heroes blocked your only exit.

This was retribution.

No longer possessed of the powers bestowed upon you by whatever occurrence had caused your costumes to come to life, the vampires now circling the bed as Clint held you tighter would have been a frightening experience under any circumstances but these were your creations and that thought frightened you even more given that you had no control over them,  Or so you thought.  It seemed to your relief that your natural curiosity proved somewhat powerful enough to halt their plans however as you blurted out the memory that now crystalized within your mind.  “Oh my god, the blood on the walls?  That was you.  But how?”

Tossing you back on the bed now as Tony nodded in your direction, Clint joined the others and five pairs of red eyes made you wonder if your outburst had angered them, but as the red faded and Tony spoke you breathed a welcome sigh of relief.  However temporary.  You may have bought yourself some time.  “Of course it was us darling, you left us to starve after all.  Not very nice of you I might add.”

“But how?” you asked again, remembering finding each of them exactly how and where you had left them.  Which you now reminded them of.

Exchanging knowing looks, this time it was Maria who was only too happy to inform you that they rejoined the living while you were passed out on the couch in the entertainment room.  Feeding their hunger then on those that Tony had hired to clean up the place, it seemed only right to return to their final resting places and wait for you to discover the devastation you had unknowingly created.

Shocked now at this revelation and what it had meant for the eighteen people who had suffered as a result of your choice in costume, you wanted to ask what had happened to the axe that had been part of Clint’s costume but looking at the five creatures undressing before you now, the answer was as clear as a cloudless sky.  They had removed it from your presence during their killing spree.  Knowing now that they had watched and waited until all the memories of what you had done to them had been recovered, you could only hope they would show mercy and dispatch you quickly once they satisfied their lust as they now joined you on the bed and proceeded to show you all the ways they intended to repay you for condemning them to eternity’s dark embrace.

[jackiequick]

Hero or Villain?…Anti-Hero OC

Katherine Lang

“I’m sorry, do we have a problem? No? Good. Get out! Cause i will dig up every track you buried til it kills me.”

Full Name: Katherine ‘Katrina’ Lang

Nicknames: Katrina, Kat, Ms. Lang, T

Age: 16-28 years old

Height: 5’4

Occupation: Agent of Red Room, Strikers , SHIELD/HYDRA—whatever the job payment is.

Skills: Technical basic training, disguises, getaway driver, panel controls as in she will order her men to strike you down, research and response center. She is usually being of assistance when needed. She’s also good with guns.

“When everyone knows your tragedy, they treat you differently. Like you’re gonna break or fight them, right? Even if they might be trying to help, all they do is remind you of the most painful moment of your life.”

Ethnicity: Her father is of Dutch descent. Her mother is of Chinese descent. But she grew up in different places across the USA. 

Relationship Status: Single.

Titles: The Lady In Red, Stiletto, The Innocent

Personality: Snarky, quiet, slightly charming, daring, a little cold hearted and utterly willing to do what she believes is worth her benefits. As well as time. Growing to be obsessive and emotional, especially with a passion for getting stuff done. Even if it meant ordering a kill or two.

~~~

-> Backstory

-> Katrina grew up in and out of foster homes. Had at least less than dozens of families take her under their wing, even her aunt as well after her parents died tragically by an explosion in the middle of a highway. She will never know who or how it happened, and honestly, she didn’t care too much to find out.

Especially when a lot of people knew of that unknown tragedy to her lifetime, almost a poster girl for the unexpected moments.

Due to her natural beauty and use of clothing, she appeared to make sure she was as gentle as a flower. Having a guys and even girls wrapped around her finger in early high school years. Ending up as one of the cheerleaders for extra credits, because that’s what she believed her parents and aunt wanted her to be.

However it wasn’t exactly what she desired to be doing. Wanting to fight for what she believes is worthy, see the world development underneath her fingertips, and get a glimpse of the jobs done. Understand it.

Across her 16th year of life, being in the care of foster parents, she was given the odd opportunity to go to Paris. While she was there she visited the Kawatche cave walls, getting a feeling like she meant to be at that old building. As the symbols called her names like a witching tone into her grasp, she felt someone tap her shoulder sliding a envelope under her armpit as they did.

“What do you want?” She asked, not looking at the person, just staring at the walls.

“I heard your little small story.” Said the voice, female, sounding almost crisp and whispery.

“What of it?”

“Public tragedy of dead parents. Foster homes. Good grades. Deeming track record in social life.”

“I was a cheerleader. A preppy gray example of the good girl.”

“That’s what the others want to believe, my dear. Secretly you’ve been knocking back the doors and stealing a few items, getting caught in the mist of a scandal between an old friend who tried to kill you?”

“..she was uh, controlled by some smoke in the school halls. So was i..i took the axe and destroyed walls. But she didn’t kill me.”

“But you almost did. She tried to do the same. Both did some serious damage to the school. Why?”

“..everyone wants something they can’t have. Money, looks, love, be understood..hell, even friendship. Just some controls over something. I guess she was jealous. I wiped the footage clean from security cameras afterwards..It was the past, why come now?”

“Open it.”

She opened it. Spy. The envelope said a few more things but that’s the word which caught her name. Striking expression appeared on her face, as she looked over her shoulder at the women for the first time. She was brunette, tall, lean brown eyes and dressed in gray coat with a black dress underneath. She was stunning with a small lined smile, nodding.

“Spy..agent?” She asked the women.

“Whichever one suits you. We are always willing to take in strays from the litter, my dear.” She replied with a shrug.

“I an not a stray!”

“Suit yourself. I’m just giving you an opportunity to workout your future. You’ll be good at it, i hope.”

Katherine knew that she wasn’t exactly seen right away in people’s eyes. Her past was always a little foggy and she was young, what does she have left to lose? Be the poster girl or something else?

———

Of course she choose the latter. Arriving underground side in Paris, finding the women and agreed to take a peek of the wider view of the world.

-> Over the years, she trained in basic gymnastics and kickboxing aside from the ones she knew already. She was around technical groups, diving in and using her tricks, gently roll of the touch voice, to convey the attention of others. Meeting a few short coming men and women, some even became friends. However, Katrina was never assigned to be strictly Red Room or Hydra material per say, which lead her to flexible with her schedule for trips.

Which also meant, she would go undercover as older allies, wig and custom made costumes with weapons in hand, in teams of two, to take down what threat that needed to be taken care of. Leaving her mark in black heels and a red pressed kiss on a notecard. Coming across SHIELD agents, the rich & famous such as The Starks and Feltons, and other unofficial agents who were neither bad or good.

Katrina never considered herself neither bad or good either, sometimes mad her wonder if she was in the wrong business.

She had undergone preparations and briefing for targets to be taken out. Keeping an eye on her fellow men and women on the field, calling the shots to be taken in their earpieces. Sometimes she doesn’t listen to her own voice in her head, roundhouse kicking or ordering herself to take another step furthermore.

-> Remember in Winter Solider when Natasha showed Steve her scar that was from The Solider who injured her, yes Barnes took the shot to kill the scientist, but Katrina and the others at the control panel were the ones to tell Barnes to do it.

She didn’t want to injure the ex-widow, but one look from her higher ranked member told her to message the order to do as he must.

Get the job done, even if it hurt or annoyed her to do so.

~~~

Recruitment had to be an intriguing part for her. Even though she tends to discuss the situation or disapprove of the recruiting process for others, she would look at her fellow students of the job, for their opinions.

They would just tell her to get the job done and everyone can go out for drinks later. She was actually apart of the group who recruited who willing suggests who said they have nothing else to lose, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, believing that the job would be worthy of their time.

Seeing the world develop underneath their fingernails and try to understand what can be done.

Those same sentiments struck a tone with her, since they were similar to what she thought was right. In result, she felt somewhat empathetic towards the twins.

She understood them and their willingness to take on challenges, just none of them were taught in the correct manner to do so. Which made it a challenge.

Hell, she found the one with the platinum blonde and brunette roots pretty good looking . It didn’t help that he always flirted with her every chance he got, trying to sweep Katrina off her feet with every interaction. Thankfully she never fell for his charms. But she did blush.

The natural brunette beauty, she was a somewhat kind hearted but odd one like her, always tinkering and wondering around the halls. She sometimes found Katrina in the hallways or computer room of the building, if she was around, to talk. She always found herself holding her hand for comfort on both sides of the coin.

———

Katrina has taken jobs at few organizations, whoever was willing to give her a chance with a good payment. Being honest, she wasn’t always to please with every task she was given to do. A lot of time it the upmost basic stunts like being stealth to grab intel from a community of rich folks, digging up information that was buried in a system and or taking down unwanted eyes for a certain job.

Hell, she has worked for plenty of men and women across the country who have wanted to have her as assistance on a experimental project, even if it pushed her limits or pay rate. Having worked for company’s like Palmer, The Luther Family, HIVE and others over the years.

She didn’t always take the shot though, believing that there was another way to finish things. Or sometimes she faked the person undoing, knowing the boss wouldn’t ask for much, just evidence of some kind.

She sometimes, if the job called for it, saved herself and a few people in the possibilities of something rather lighter to happen in the future. People would call her a vigilante for the work she does, but not exactly a heroic act. But she tried.

~~~

Her looks were a dead giveaway that she’s wasn’t somewhat truly horrible, she had a light side and a dark side to her.

Everyone did.

But Katherine was like any other person in this lifetime, she wants to know what she can and cannot do. Not wanting to get hurt or feel hurt, even though pain is part of life.

She wants to see if she can push her limits and test out the results around her, even if it meant accidentally making the wrong choices or siding the anti-heroic path.

Sometimes it felt good to be a little cocky and act as bad as you can get. Other times it really doesn’t.

But at the end of the day, she makes the decision to take the gold or leave whatever her past is in the dust.

~~~~

-> But the real question, who will find her? Will be taken back to light side and rest in the work she has done? Who will she meet?

That’s what I got, I might edit and add more to her story later on. What did you think?

Also did I use quotes from the actress’s character in the series? Maybe haha.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @missstrawbs2001 @mallowbee4 @halesfavoriteharlot @sherloquestea @rooster-84 @gcthvile @meiramel @thecavalrywife @mandylove1000 @rickb-chaos @yetanotherwells @queenslandlover-93 @buckysteveloki-me @djs8891 @blueboirick and etc

[me-myself-and-my-oboe]

A Crescendo of Feelings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x original female character

Summary:

In the heart of a bustling city, Bucky Barnes finds himself at a crossroads, drawn into the world of music he left behind. When his friend Steve persuades him to join the local orchestra, he unexpectedly encounters the vibrant and adventurous Tara, a primary teacher with a passion for the oboe. As their paths intertwine through rehearsals and spontaneous jam sessions, Bucky grapples with the ghosts of his past while Tara’s infectious spirit challenges him to embrace the present. Amidst the melodies and laughter, can they discover the harmony of their own hearts?

New story coming!

Chapter 1: New beginnings

Chapter 2: A Breath of Fresh Air

[heydoaflip]

The Doctor and The Tracker | Helmut Zemo

Zombie Apocalypse AU!

Female Original Character ('Doc') x Helmut Zemo

Summary: When an unsettling discovery forces them to abandon their fragile refuge, Doc and her group face the grim reality of survival in a world that’s always closing in. As chaos erupts, one mistake pulls her away from her friends, leaving her to confront not just the undead but a haunting glimpse of something—or someone—that defies reason. Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, including gun use and combat with walkers. Themes of guilt, trauma, and survival in an apocalyptic setting. Intense suspense and danger, including close encounters with the undead. Brief mention of blood and injury (medical and combat-related). Word count: 11K

oo. the tracker

The fire station had seen better days. Faded red paint curled like brittle parchment, exposing the skeleton of weathered wood and rusted metal beneath. Inside, its transformation was equal parts ingenuity and desperation, the remnants of a structured world repurposed into a fragile refuge.

The main garage, once an echo chamber of sirens and hurried boots, now sat heavy with silence. Its emptiness was stark, a hollow reminder of what this place had been. The stretcher at its center, long past its prime, sagged under the weight of makeshift supplies: jars of scavenged ointments, antiseptic bottles clouded with age, and scissors dulled by overuse. Even the shelves around it seemed tired, their contents a precarious balance of necessity and neglect.

The air smelled of old smoke and mildew, with an undercurrent of something sharper—coppery, metallic. It clung to her skin, the way fear and exhaustion clung to their lives. Above, fractured sunlight trickled through a cracked skylight, streaking the dust-filled air with muted gold.

Doc perched on a battered crate, her back stiff with focus even as the weight of exhaustion tugged at her shoulders. Her fingers moved deftly over Bucky’s arm, her gloved hands carefully cleaning the wound’s edges. The jagged stump where his right arm had been was swollen but healing, though the angry redness still clinging to the skin told her the fight wasn’t over yet.

Her movements were steady, but her mind was far from calm. Every time she looked at the wound, she saw that day—his blood on her hands, her frantic breath as she tried to stop the bleeding, the way his voice, rough and broken, had told her to keep going. She had, of course. She had done what she could, and it hadn’t been enough.

"Keep it steady," she muttered, breaking the quiet but not the tension.

Bucky obeyed without complaint, his body still under her touch. His silence wasn’t unusual, but it carried a weight today that unsettled her. His blue eyes stared past her, distant and unseeing, as if retreating to a place she couldn’t reach.

The world outside had never felt so far away. The wind rattled the station’s loose window panes, a low, mournful sound that seeped into the cracks of her thoughts.

She hesitated, the cloth pausing mid-swipe as her gaze flicked to his face, "Still holding up?"

There was a pause, long enough for her words to feel like they were swallowed by the stillness of the room.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his tone clipped and unconvincing. He shifted slightly, the old chair groaning beneath him, before adding, “You don’t have to check it every day, Doc.”

The nickname made her grimace faintly, but she didn’t bother hiding it. They all called her that now, as if it was her real name. It wasn’t. It was just another thing she’d inherited from this broken world, like the ash-streaked sky and the hollow weight in her chest.

“You know exactly why I do,” she said, picking up the antiseptic with brisk, deliberate movements.

She dabbed at the wound, glancing at him as she worked. “You’re lucky to be alive, Bucky. You know that, right?”

The words hit harder than she’d meant them to, and for a moment, she regretted saying them at all.

The words hit harder than she’d intended, and for a moment, regret tugged at her. She wasn’t trying to chastise him.

He winced—not from the antiseptic, but from the weight of the truth she’d just dropped on him.

“You’ve got a hell of a bedside manner,” he muttered dryly.

A faint smile ghosted across her face, there and gone in an instant, “You want sugar-coating? Don’t avoid me when you’re in pain.”

Her eyes flicked to his face again, and she caught the tension in his jaw, the way his left hand flexed and unflexed against his knee. He was holding something back, but so was she.

“Fair,” he limited himself by saying, his expression forever stoic.

"I mean it, Bucky," she said, her voice softer now, the edges of irritation blunted by something gentler. She paused, searching for the right words but finding none, "What happened back there—"

"It wasn’t your fault," he cut in, sharp and sudden, the words slicing through her sentence.

Her hands stilled, the antiseptic-soaked cloth hovering above his skin. He still wasn’t looking at her, his gaze fixed somewhere far away, but there was something raw in his voice that made her chest tighten.

"You don’t know that," she murmured, her tone uncertain, almost fragile.

When he turned to her, his expression caught her off guard. His eyes were unflinching, filled with a heaviness that seemed to press against the walls of the room.

"I do," he said, his voice quieter now, weighted with conviction. "There’s nothing we could’ve done. And if I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick, filled with everything they wouldn’t say. The sound of wind rattling the station’s loose windows barely registered as she looked back at him, her hands falling limply into her lap.

“That’s a really stupid thing to say,” she pointed out, breaking the silence. Her tone wasn’t sharp, but it carried a weight that made Bucky glance at her. “You lost an arm, Bucky. How... How are you going to do what you do?”

The question lingered in the air, and she hated how it sounded. Not accusatory, not exactly, but laced with the kind of helpless worry she tried to keep hidden.

The wind outside scraped against the building, rattling loose window panes like an uninvited guest. Dust motes danced lazily in the fractured sunlight spilling through the cracked skylight above, their slow, aimless drift a stark contrast to the unease gnawing at her thoughts.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if weighing her words.

“What I do?” he echoed, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable.

She swallowed, her fingers brushing against the edge of the crate as though searching for stability.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she said, quieter now, “You’re the one who keeps us safe out there. You hunt. You cover us when things go south. You’ve always been the one we can count on, and now...”

Her voice trailed off, the words catching in her throat.

And now I’ve ruined that.

The thought scraped against her, raw and unrelenting. She wanted to say it out loud, to scream it, but the weight of everything held her silent.

Instead, she looked away, her gaze drifting to the jagged streaks of gold on the floor, cast by the fractured skylight above. The light flickered slightly as a breeze stirred the dust, and for a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in.

The fire station was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that left room for the wrong thoughts to creep in.

“And now you’re wondering how the hell I’m gonna manage without two hands,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, almost resigned, as if he’d already resigned himself to this being his reality.

Her head snapped back toward him, her brows knitting together.

“No,” she said firmly, though not unkindly, “I’m wondering how the hell you’re going to manage when you refuse to take even five minutes to let yourself heal.”

To let me help you. It was the least she could do and, yet, he avoided her like the plague.

He leaned back in the chair, the old wood groaning faintly under his weight. The corners of his mouth quirked into a wry smile, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That doesn’t bring me any comfort,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes lingered on the jagged edges of his stump, the angry redness that still clung to the skin. She could still hear the sound of that day—flesh tearing, his gritted groans of pain, and her own frantic breath as she’d scrambled to stop the bleeding. The memory was vivid, each detail burned into her mind: the sickening warmth of his blood soaking her hands, the metallic tang in the air, the way her fingers had trembled as she worked.

She’d told herself it was just adrenaline, the urgency of the moment forcing her body to keep moving. But deep down, she knew the truth. She’d been terrified. Not just for him, but for all of them. Bucky had been their anchor—the one who kept them moving, kept them alive when the world outside tried to swallow them whole. Without him, what were they supposed to do?

Her chest tightened, her breath catching for a moment as her gaze drifted to the floor.

“You’re not invincible, Bucky,” she said, quieter now, her voice cracking just slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do if...”

The words hung in her throat, too heavy to say aloud. She shook her head as if the gesture could physically push the thought away, her hands brushing against the crate as though searching for something solid to hold on to.

“If what?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his stubbornness still lingered at the edges.

“If we lost you,” she finished, the words barely audible, fragile in the quiet of the room.

Her gaze flicked back to him, and for a moment, she hesitated. She wanted to leave it at that, but the truth pressed against her chest, demanding to be spoken. If I lost you.

Bucky had been one of her first friends in this fractured world, though “friend” hardly seemed strong enough for what he was to her. He’d been a constant, the steady presence she could lean on when everything else felt like it was crumbling. He was the one who didn’t flinch when things got bad, who carried the weight when the rest of them faltered.

He’d believed in her, even when she doubted herself. When she’d stumbled through those early days of survival—making mistakes, hesitating when she couldn’t afford to—he hadn’t judged her. He’d just been there, steady and unyielding, like a pillar holding up the sky. She couldn’t bear the thought of him crumbling now.

The room felt heavier after that. The air seemed to press in around her, thick with unspoken fears and unacknowledged truths.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” Bucky said after a moment. His voice was firm, steady, but his eyes betrayed him. There were cracks in the armor, faint but undeniable.

She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. But the image of that day was seared into her mind, playing on a loop she couldn’t stop. If she’d been faster, better, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe—

The sudden rattle of loose window panes snapped her out of her thoughts, the sound jolting her like a splash of cold water.

She blinked, her hand gripping the edge of the crate as if anchoring herself back to the present. The fire station felt oppressively quiet again, the faint rustle of wind outside only serving to highlight the stillness within. Her gaze flicked toward the windows, the cracked glass reflecting fragmented streaks of light onto the walls.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he said again, softer this time, as though he could sense her spiraling. “You need to let that go, Doc.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond right away. Letting go felt impossible. The weight of her own guilt was too familiar, too comfortable in a way she hated to admit.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Letting go wasn’t something she knew how to do. The weight of her guilt was a constant companion, settling into the corners of her mind like the ever-present scent of old smoke and mildew clinging to the station’s walls.

Her eyes flicked toward the windows. The wind rattled the loose panes, a mournful sound that filled the gaps in their silence. Outside, the world was as lifeless as the space they now called home, its stillness punctuated by the occasional creak of the old building settling under the weight of its history.

“It’s not that easy,” she murmured, her voice so low it barely carried across the room.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to the floor, the tension in his shoulders softening just enough to betray the exhaustion he carried. He flexed his left hand again—a restless, automatic motion that seemed to anchor him to the moment.

The silence stretched, punctuated by the faint scrape of her gloves against the crate as she adjusted her grip. She felt her thoughts start to spiral again, looping back to the same unanswerable questions. What if she’d been faster? What if she’d done something differently that day? What if—

“You heard anything yet?” Bucky’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp but not unkind.

She blinked, the question catching her off guard. Her fingers tensed around the edge of the crate. “No,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The thought of them hadn’t left her since they’d disappeared into the gray haze of the horizon. Steve had insisted it would be quick—one day there, one day back—but now every tick of the clock felt like it chipped away at her hope.

She could still see the supplies they had packed: the last of their ointments, a crumpled map covered in faded marker, and the small stash of ammo they couldn’t afford to spare. It hadn’t been enough then, and it certainly wasn’t enough now. A hollow ache settled in her chest as her mind played through worst-case scenarios: bartered goods gone wrong, the fragility of trust snapping like brittle glass, or worse, the things that prowled the world outside. They’d been gone too long.

The shelves behind her seemed to loom, mocking her with their emptiness. Supplies for one week, two at most, if they stretched them to breaking. And now, they were the only things keeping her from sinking entirely into panic.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking beneath him, “They should’ve been back by now,” he said, the words heavy with unspoken concern.

“I know.”

The words came out sharper than she intended, and guilt immediately twisted in her chest. She exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across her face.

“I know,” she repeated, softer this time.

Her gaze wandered back to the windows. The cracked glass caught the light, scattering fragmented streaks of gold onto the walls. She followed the patterns absently, trying to focus on them instead of the sinking feeling in her gut.

“They said it’d only be a day,” Bucky said, his voice taut.

“Maybe something slowed them down,” she replied, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. Her gaze didn’t leave the window. “It doesn’t mean—”

“You don’t believe that,” he interrupted, his eyes cutting to hers.

She turned to face him fully, her jaw tightening. He was right. She didn’t believe it—not really. The knot in her stomach had been twisting tighter since last night, and the longer they went without word, the harder it became to keep her worry in check.

“They’re smart,” she said finally, as if saying it aloud would make it true, “Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to them. You know that.”

The thought of them hadn’t left her since they’d disappeared into the gray haze of the horizon.

Steve had insisted it would be quick—one day there, one day back—but now every tick of the clock felt like it chipped away at her hope. She could still see the supplies they had packed: the last of their ointments, a crumpled map covered in faded marker, and the small stash of ammo they couldn’t afford to spare. It hadn’t been enough then, and it certainly wasn’t enough now.

A hollow ache settled in her chest as her mind played through worst-case scenarios: bartered goods gone wrong, the fragility of trust snapping like brittle glass, or worse, the things that prowled the world outside. They’d been gone too long. The shelves behind her seemed to loom, mocking her with their emptiness.

Supplies for one week, two at most, if they stretched them to breaking. And now, they were the only things keeping her from sinking entirely into panic.

“Steve’s smart, sure,” Bucky said, his voice hardening, “But those guys they were meeting—they’re not exactly known for playing fair.”

The traders weren’t strangers, but they weren’t friends either. Wanda’s voice echoed in her memory: calm, clinical, but sharp with unspoken warnings:

“They’ve got their own rules. Stick to the deal and walk away clean.”

Doc had wanted to ask more—who they were, what they wanted—but Vision’s grim expression had stopped her.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said at the time, but she hadn’t missed the flicker of unease in his eyes.

Now, alone with her thoughts, she filled in the blanks they’d left open. Opportunists, Wanda had said once. People who traded in desperation. People who wouldn’t think twice about turning a deal sour if the odds tipped in their favor. The weight of their silence felt heavier now, like a storm cloud pressing against her lungs.

She didn’t know them, but she knew enough: they were exactly the kind of people who survived this world. That didn’t comfort her.

“They’ve been reliable so far,” she said, though even to her own ears, the words sounded weak.

“Reliable until they’re not,” Bucky muttered, his voice dark.

The wind rattled the panes again, louder this time. She glanced at the window, half expecting to see something lurking beyond the fractured glass. Instead, there was only the empty horizon, streaked with the dull gray light of an overcast sky.

“They’ll be fine,” she said, forcing the words out. Her voice wavered just slightly.

Bucky didn’t respond. His gaze was distant again, fixed on a spot on the floor.

“If they’re not back by tonight...” he began, his voice quieter now, “We go after them.”

Her stomach tightened. The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility.

“Bucky—”

Her gaze flicked to him. His left hand flexed unconsciously against his knee. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight—she’d seen him take down more than she cared to remember—but there was a rawness to the way he moved now. Like a violinist playing with a broken bow, every strike carried the faintest hesitation, every block an unsteady rhythm.

The fight outside the station—the way he’d faltered for half a second—still lingered in her mind. Would Natasha or Sam even agree with such a reckless idea? They’d urge patience, wouldn’t they? But patience wasn’t something she could feel at that moment.

“I mean it, Doc,” he said, cutting her off. His tone was firm, but there was a vulnerability beneath it that caught her off guard. “We can’t just sit here and wait. Not when we don’t know what’s happening.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him they needed to stay put and think things through, but the truth was, she felt the same. The thought of waiting much longer, of sitting here in the suffocating quiet while Steve, Wanda, and Vision were out there—somewhere—was unbearable.

She exhaled shakily, trying to steady the chaos in her mind. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “But I’m going with you.”

Bucky’s head snapped toward her, his expression hardening instantly. “No, you’re not.”

His tone was like a brick wall, but she barely registered it. Her chest burned with a heavy mix of determination and dread, a feeling that had been clawing at her since the moment Steve, Wanda, and Vision had left.

“Don’t start,” she said, her voice sharp, “I’m not sitting here while you go out there alone.”

“I won't go alone,” he countered, his brow furrowing deeply as he leaned toward her. “Sam and Natasha will go with me, they’ll agree with me and interject to join me. They can handle themselves, as I myself, you don’t need to get involved.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“You can handle yourself?” she snapped, gesturing toward his left arm, “You’re still getting used to—”

“That doesn’t matter,” he interrupted sharply, his voice loud enough to make her flinch. His expression softened slightly, but his tone didn’t lose its edge, “I’ve been through worse. You know that.”

She knew he was right.

Doc had seen him withstand pain most people wouldn’t survive. But all she could think of was the way his body had sagged against her that day, blood spilling over her hands as she fought to keep him alive. Her breaths were shallow now, her pulse loud in her ears.

The sound of the walkers grunting from afar that day still haunted her nights.

Her mind drifted back—unbidden—to the first moments after the attack. Wanda’s screams had echoed in her ears long after the chaos had settled, a haunting soundtrack to her own failures. She could still feel the sticky warmth of Bucky’s blood as they’d tried, futilely, to stop the bleeding.

Every memory sharpened into a vivid, unbearable ache. She’d told herself over and over it hadn’t been her fault, but she didn’t believe it.

She blinked rapidly, trying to refocus.

“I can’t just sit here, Bucky,” she said, her voice trembling with frustration, “Not again. I didn’t do enough last time, and look where that got us. If something happens to them now, while I’m hiding here, I—”

“You’re not hiding,” Bucky said, his voice cutting through her words like steel, “You’re our doctor around here, we need you in one piece. They need you alive, we all do. Who else would keep Sam from trying to play hero when he’s hurt, or patch Natasha up when she refuses to admit she’s bleeding?”

Her lips twitched despite herself, but the moment passed too quickly, leaving behind only the gnawing weight in her chest. Her gaze dropped to the floor, shame coiling in her stomach. Surviving felt like an excuse. It felt like cowardice.

“You don’t understand,” she murmured.

“I do,” Bucky said, his voice calm and measured, though a flicker of pain crossed his features, “You think I don’t know what you’re feeling? That guilt? That weight? I carry it every damn day. But it doesn’t mean you throw yourself into the fire just to make it stop.”

Her breath hitched as his words struck a nerve, unearthing emotions she’d buried too deep to face. The images she’d been trying to suppress came rushing back again: Vision’s desperate attempts to shield Wanda, the way the chaos had swallowed them whole. She’d frozen at the worst moment, and she’d felt the cost of that mistake every day since.

Her shoulders sagged, the fight momentarily draining out of her.

“You’re asking me to stay behind and do nothing,” she said softly, her voice barely audible, “But I can’t, Bucky. I can’t stand the thought of—”

“Of what?” he pressed, stepping closer, his voice softer but still firm. “Of losing them? Of losing more people? You think I don’t feel that, too?”

She looked up at him sharply, her jaw tightening.

“I know you do,” she said, though the words felt thin and insubstantial. “That’s why I hope you understand me and let me go with you.”

“You think this is about permission?” he countered, his tone softening as his gaze fixed on her, “This isn’t about what you want, Doc. It’s about what we need. And what we need is for you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Her heart felt heavier, his words pulling her in two directions at once. She wanted to believe him, to let the truth settle into her bones, but her guilt sat heavier. Her mind spun, latching onto his words and twisting them.

The silence between them thickened, stretching into a chasm. Doc stared at the floor, her fingers twitching against her sides as her thoughts spiraled again.

She could still hear Steve’s voice, low and steady as he’d assured her they’d be back by now. She could still see Wanda’s tentative smile, Vision’s quiet nod. If she stayed here and they didn’t come back, she wouldn’t just be failing them—she’d be failing herself.

“I have to do something,” she said, her voice trembling.

“And I have to stop you from getting yourself killed,” Bucky said, his voice softer now, but no less firm.

Her lips parted to respond, the fight still bubbling at the back of her throat, but before she could speak, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them.

“Hey!” Sam’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent.

They both turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression tight with unease.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, glancing between them, “You need to see this. Now.”

The chill outside hit harder than expected, the wind carrying with it the faint, sour scent of decay. The fire station loomed behind them, its once-vivid red paint peeling in ragged strips, exposing the weathered wood and rusting metal beneath. Around them, the forest stretched endlessly, its skeletal trees swaying against the gray horizon like brittle fingers reaching for the sky.

Sam moved ahead of them, his pace brisk but purposeful. His jacket flapped with each gust of wind, revealing a patched-up shoulder that spoke to a lifetime of survival in a world that didn’t allow for rest. His expression was sharp, his dark eyes flicking between the treetops and the undergrowth as if expecting danger to leap out at any moment.

Doc’s breath came quick and shallow, the cold air biting at her lungs. Her boots crunched against the frost-dusted ground, the sound far too loud in the eerie quiet. She struggled to suppress the rising dread, but her thoughts swirled with growing panic.

What was wrong?

Her stomach churned as memories of past close calls clawed their way to the surface—hands grasping at her ankles, lifeless eyes staring through her as she fought tooth and nail to escape. When the problem wasn’t walkers, it was about other survivors.

The last time they had to deal with survivors who weren’t at all good still didn’t bring her any good memories.

The forest around her suddenly felt too close, the looming trees pressing in, cutting off the faint light of the overcast sky.

Ahead of them, Natasha stood on a rocky outcrop that overlooked the clearing, her figure stark against the muted greens and browns of the forest. Her hair was tied back tightly, stray strands clinging to her face from the wind.

She didn’t glance back as they approached, her sharp eyes narrowing at the horizon. Her rifle was slung over her shoulder, but her hand rested on her sidearm, fingers twitching in restless anticipation.

Sam reached her first. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” he said, his voice tight.

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes locked on the horizon.

“They’re closer,” she said flatly. Her voice carried an edge of worry that Doc wasn’t used to hearing. “A lot closer.”

The words hit like a stone sinking in her chest. Doc stopped a few paces behind them, her hands instinctively gripping the straps of her satchel.

“Closer?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper, “How close?”

Bucky stepped up beside Sam, his expression darkening as he scanned the treeline. “How close are we talking?” he asked, his voice low, measured.

Natasha exhaled slowly, the sound merging with the mournful rustling of the wind. “Close enough that we don’t have time to argue about it.”

Doc swallowed hard and turned her gaze to the treeline. At first, all she saw was the dense sprawl of trees swaying gently in the breeze. Then, movement.

Faint at first, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably unnatural. Figures staggered into view, their jerky, uneven steps disrupting the stillness. From this distance, they looked more like shadows than bodies, but the sound came next—low, guttural groans that seemed to rise from the earth itself.

Her breath caught in her throat. The walkers moved as if guided by some unseen force, their twisted forms weaving between the trees in eerie, disjointed patterns. They weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to move like this.

“They were miles away,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “How are they already here?”

“They shouldn’t be,” Natasha replied tightly. “Two days ago, they were far enough out that we should’ve had at least a month.”

Doc’s heart raced as her thoughts spiraled. She’d studied the walkers enough to know their patterns, their sluggish movements and aimless wandering. These weren’t the same. Their pace was faster, their movements less random, almost purposeful. The idea sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Unless they’re tracking us,” Bucky muttered grimly.

The thought hit Doc like a punch to the gut. “Tracking us? How?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam interjected, crossing his arms. His jaw tightened as he glanced at Natasha. “How long do we have?”

Natasha tore her gaze from the horizon to face them, her expression unreadable. “An hour,” she said, her voice clipped. “Maybe less.”

The wind picked up, howling through the rocky outcrop, carrying the walkers’ groans closer. Doc’s gaze drifted back to the treeline. She could see more of them now, their shapes growing clearer as they emerged from the forest’s shadows. Their bodies were twisted and broken, patches of skin hanging loosely from exposed muscle and bone. Some dragged limbs behind them, while others moved with an unnatural speed that made her stomach churn.

She forced herself to look away, but the sound lingered—wet, uneven footsteps against frost-covered earth, the grotesque symphony of broken jaws gnashing and guttural groans filling the air. They were closing in, a relentless tide of death that wouldn’t stop until it consumed everything in its path.

Her thoughts raced. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Walkers didn’t move like this. They didn’t track people, didn’t organize. It didn’t make sense, and yet here they were, defying every rule she thought she understood.

“They’re moving like they know where we are,” she thought, a sickening realization clawing at the edges of her mind, “How do you fight something that learns?”

Bucky’s voice cut through the rising panic.

“Grab what you can carry,” he said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re moving. Now.”

The fire station was alive with chaos as they scrambled to gather their supplies. The sound of boots thudding against the worn wooden floors mixed with the muffled groans of walkers approaching outside. Each noise felt magnified, echoing in her ears as though the world itself was narrowing to this single point. Doc’s hands moved quickly, shoving rolls of bandages and jars of antiseptic into her satchel.

The sharp tang of alcohol mingled with the musty scent of old wood and mildew, clinging to her as much as the panic settling deep in her chest. Every item she touched seemed heavier than the last, her mind warring between what to take and what to leave behind.

Her thoughts spiraled, racing between what she needed and what she could afford to leave behind. But with every passing second, the groans outside grew louder, closer. Every creak of the building, every gust of wind that rattled the windows, made her nerves tighten further, the pressure of the outside world pushing in.

“You don’t have time for all that!” Sam’s voice barked from the garage entrance, his figure a stark silhouette against the dim gray light filtering through the open door. Beyond him, the treeline loomed, dark and unyielding, like the open mouth of a beast waiting to swallow them whole, “Just grab what you can carry!”

“I am!” Doc snapped, though her hands lingered on a box of sutures, the decision to leave it behind weighing on her like a physical blow. Her eyes darted to the shelves around her, taking in the jars, gauze rolls, and scalpels she couldn’t carry. Every piece felt vital, irreplaceable.

She tried to convince herself it would be fine—they’d find more. They had to. But the knot in her stomach told her otherwise.

Bucky stormed in, his boots striking the floor with a force that matched the tension radiating from his frame.

“Doc, we’ve got to move. Now.” His voice was low, commanding, each word clipped with urgency. His left hand flexed and unflexed unconsciously, his rifle slung tightly across his back. The sharpness in his blue eyes cut through the chaos, locking onto hers, “We don’t have time for second-guessing.”

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to a jar of precious antibiotics on the shelf. The sight of it was like a knife twisting in her gut.

“I can’t just leave this,” she murmured, her hand already reaching for it.

“You have to,” Bucky growled, grabbing her arm before she could touch it. His grip was firm, his tone leaving no room for argument, “We can’t carry everything, and you need your rifle free.”

The air outside felt even colder than it had moments ago, as if the very atmosphere was shifting with the encroaching danger. The frost-covered ground crunched beneath their boots as they bolted toward the path leading to the observatory, the sound of each footstep echoing in her ears. The wind whipped through the trees, its mournful howl filling the silence between them, as though the forest itself was mourning the loss of whatever had once lived there.

Every gust of wind seemed to tear at her skin, biting through her clothes, and mingled with the groans of walkers closing in from behind.

The scent of decay was thick in the air, a sharp metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat, heavy with the promise of what was to come. Her pulse quickened with each passing step, her eyes scanning the darkness of the forest ahead.

Doc kept her rifle close, her fingers tight around the stock, as though its familiarity was the only thing holding her steady. Her satchel bounced against her side with every hurried step, the weight of it a constant reminder of the things she had left behind—things she hadn’t had the time or space to carry. It was like a physical ache, that bag slapping against her side as if mocking her failure to prepare.

The forest around them felt alive with unseen menace. The skeletal branches above creaked and groaned in the wind, their long limbs swaying ominously, casting shifting shadows that seemed to stretch and warp like living things. The sound of leaves rustling in the breeze was sharper than it should have been, the snap of a branch too loud, too distinct, almost like a warning.

Every crack of frost beneath their boots made her flinch, every movement of the trees felt as if it might be something lurking just out of sight. Her senses were heightened, but it wasn’t enough—her heart hammered in her chest, her mind a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts.

We’re not safe. We’re not safe enough.

Then it hit her—a sudden, wrenching realization that cut through the haze of panic swirling in her mind. Her hand flew to her neck, her fingers grazing empty skin. But it wasn’t the locket. It was the antibiotics. The vial.

The thought slammed into her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. She’d left it behind—the very vials she’d been using for Bucky’s wound, the only thing keeping his infection from spreading.

The weight of that hit her harder than anything else. Panic surged through her veins, cold and unrelenting, and in that moment, her legs refused to move. How could I have forgotten it?

Her thoughts spiraled as the image of the fire station came rushing back, vivid and cruel. The counter, the medical kit, the vial of antibiotics—she could picture it exactly as she’d left it. Set aside for Bucky’s wound, ready for the next treatment. And now, still there. Waiting.

She stopped mid-step, the forest around her stretching endlessly, a blur of skeletal branches and frost-covered ground. The others pressed forward, their movements purposeful, but her feet wouldn’t obey. Something inside her refused to let go of that single image: the vial, sitting untouched, just where she had left it.

Why didn’t she pack it?

The question flickered through her mind, unspoken but persistent. There had been no reason not to. She’d been careful, deliberate with every other piece of their supplies. Yet somehow, the most important one had slipped through. A faint pang twisted her gut, unwelcome but unavoidable. Her hands clenched, as if the motion could undo the moment entirely.

She glanced up at the others, their figures moving steadily ahead. They didn’t know. They couldn’t. Their focus was forward—on the path, on safety, on what came next. But her focus wouldn’t move. It remained tethered to the fire station, the counter, the vial.

Her gaze dropped back to the frozen ground. It wasn’t far. That thought lodged itself in her mind, stubborn and insistent. If she turned now—if she ran—she could make it. She knew the risks, felt them in every hollow groan carried on the wind, but even those seemed muted next to the quiet insistence pulling her back.

The wind stung her cheeks, a sharp reminder of the urgency around her, but it wasn’t enough to snap her forward. Her legs shifted almost unconsciously, her body responding to a decision her mind hadn’t yet admitted.

“Doc!” Bucky’s voice broke through the fog of her thoughts, sharp and tight. She flinched, looking up. He’d stopped further up the path, his frame outlined against the pale sky, “We have to move!”

Her pulse quickened. Her fingers twitched at her sides.

The right thing—the safe thing—was to keep going, to trust they had done all they could, that there would be another way. But safety wasn’t what came to her now. Instead, it was the memory of Bucky sitting still as she worked on his wound, the faint tension in his jaw as he’d pretended not to feel the pain. The antiseptic had burned, but he hadn’t flinched.

The vial. The infection.

“I forgot your antibiotics, I’ll catch up with you,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. She didn’t look at them as she spoke, and didn't need to see the disbelief in their eyes, “Go to the watchtower, we are in four, it will be safe for us there as the horde passes through the forest.”

“Doc, no!” Sam called, his voice urgent but tinged with frustration, “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, barely hearing them anymore. Her feet were already turning, moving instinctively toward the fire station, “I’ll catch up. I promise.”

“You’re not going back there!” Bucky shouted, his voice breaking with the strain. He took a step forward, as though he might physically stop her, but Doc shook her head, her pace quickening.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not now.

Doc ignored the voices calling her name as she turned back, her feet pounding against the frozen ground. The urgency in her chest pressed down with each step. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. The wind bit at her face as the forest around her seemed to close in, but she pushed on, determination fueling her every move.

The fire station came into view, its weathered walls grim against the cold, the door hanging open. The sight made her heart race. She could already hear the sounds of groans and shuffling feet—too many walkers closing in. She had to get in, grab the antibiotics, and get out.

No more hesitation.

As she stepped through the door, a sickly warmth met her, the stench of decay heavy in the air. Her eyes scanned the room quickly. It wasn’t overrun yet, but it was far from empty. A couple of walkers had already made their way inside—slow-moving, disoriented, gnawing at the remnants of their last victim. Their blank, dead eyes fixed on the dark corners, not yet aware of her presence.

Doc’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife, the cold steel offering her a brief sense of comfort. She moved quickly but cautiously, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself. The counter where she had left the antibiotics was just ahead, a faint light shining from the open window above. The sight of it—small, but so important—sent a fleeting wave of relief through her chest.

But the sound of groaning grew louder, sharper, filling the air with a sense of urgency that clawed at her throat. She could hear more of them now—shuffling closer, entering the station. The door she had come through wasn’t far behind her, and the sickening realization hit her: they were pouring in. Not a flood yet, but enough. Too many to fight if it came down to it.

She had to be quick.

Her heart thudded in her ears as she reached the counter. Her fingers grazed the familiar bottle of antibiotics, its cool surface a reminder of everything riding on this moment. She grabbed it, slamming it into her bag with shaking hands. The small moment of victory was short-lived.

The first walker noticed her then, its head jerking toward her, eyes blank and hungry.

Doc didn’t hesitate. She spun, slashing her knife across its throat. The body crumpled without a sound, the stench of blood and rot hanging in the air. She didn’t stop to think, just pushed forward, moving toward the door, but as she passed through, she saw more of them stumbling inside.

The sound of their dragging feet filled the space, their moans growing louder as they converged from all directions.

The door she had come through was barely closed when the groaning reached a new intensity. She turned sharply, her pulse spiking as she saw more walkers entering through the open door, and in that moment, a flash of movement caught her eye.

At first, it seemed like just another walker. But the way it moved—so much more fluid, less disjointed—was unsettling. Its skin was torn, flesh barely clinging to the bones, but it had the posture of something alive. Something human. A fresh, human shape, now hidden beneath the decaying skin of a walker. Its eyes locked onto hers for a fraction of a second, and something in her froze.

Was it possible?

“Hey,” she tried not to shout, “Who the fuck are you? Get out of here!”

But the sound of her own voice—loud, desperate—only drew more attention. The walkers around her snapped toward the noise, their vacant stares now focused entirely on her. 

Her breathing quickened, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning out everything else. The walkers were converging now, their soulless groans blending into a grotesque harmony of hunger. The figure—the one that didn’t quite move like the others—had slipped from view, swallowed by the chaos. But its presence lingered in her mind, a sinister anomaly in a world that thrived on the bizarre.

Perhaps, she had imagined. She had imagined something that wasn’t there and would have to run faster because of such stupidity.

Doc’s grip tightened around her knife as she sidestepped a walker dragging its feet toward her. She didn’t pause. She couldn’t. Her fingers brushed the counter as she lunged forward, closing the distance to the vial. The cool glass met her palm, and she snatched it up, shoving it into her satchel. Her hands trembled as she secured the strap tightly across her chest.

There was no time to think. She turned, her boots scraping against the cracked floor, just as a walker lunged from her left. She ducked instinctively, its decayed fingers swiping through the air above her head. With a sharp jab, her blade found its mark, sinking deep into the side of its skull.

The body crumpled, but the noise of its fall only drew more attention.

She bolted for the door. More walkers were pouring in, the weight of their bodies pressing against the doorframe. Their groans echoed in the confined space, blending into a suffocating roar. One stumbled directly into her path, its teeth snapping at the air. Without slowing, she pivoted and slammed the heel of her boot into its knee, sending it toppling to the ground.

The cold wind hit her like a slap as she burst through the fire station door, the pale light of the outside world blinding her for a brief moment. She stumbled forward, her boots skidding on the frost-dusted ground, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The moans behind her were growing louder, spilling into the open air with a guttural resonance that sent ice through her veins.

The treeline loomed ahead, a skeletal wall of gray and brown that swayed with the biting wind. It wasn’t safety—not really—but it was the only cover she had. Her legs burned with each step, the satchel bouncing heavily against her hip as she sprinted. The straps dug into her shoulder, the weight of the supplies inside a painful reminder of everything she’d risked to retrieve them.

Her breath tore through her lungs, harsh and ragged, pluming in short bursts against the icy air. Behind her, the cacophony of groans and dragging footsteps surged, echoing across the barren landscape. The sound clawed at her resolve, each guttural cry a reminder of how close they were. How close they always were.

She glanced back once—just once—and immediately regretted it. The walkers were pouring out of the station now, their twisted forms staggering into the open. Their flesh hung in tattered strips, their jaws slack but snapping hungrily at the air. Some crawled, their broken bodies dragging through the dirt, while others moved with a terrifying, jerky speed. Her stomach twisted at the sight, but she forced herself to look away.

Keep running. Don’t think. Just move.

The forest swallowed her whole as she plunged into the shadows of the trees, their brittle branches clawing at her jacket. The ground beneath her boots was uneven, littered with fallen twigs and patches of frost-slicked leaves that threatened to trip her with every hurried step. Her pulse thundered in her ears, louder even than the groans behind her, as though her body was trying to drown out the noise.

She pushed deeper into the forest, weaving through the skeletal trees with a frantic, unsteady rhythm. Every snap of a branch beneath her boots sounded deafening in the oppressive silence, and every rustle of leaves made her flinch, her mind conjuring images of walkers lurking just out of sight. The light filtering through the canopy was thin and pale, casting shifting shadows that danced and twisted in her peripheral vision like specters.

She stumbled, her boot catching on an exposed root, and barely managed to catch herself before hitting the ground. Her knee grazed the dirt, and a sharp pain shot up her leg, but she forced herself to keep moving. She didn’t have the luxury of stopping—not here, not now.

The terrain sloped upward as she neared the observatory, the incline forcing her legs to work harder with every step. Her breath came in shorter gasps, her muscles screaming in protest, but the sight of the tower ahead pushed her forward. It rose above the treetops like a crumbling monument to a world long gone, its once-pristine walls weathered and gray, the dome at its peak fractured but still intact.Her thoughts spiraled as she ran, the events of the day replaying in an endless loop. The fire station. The supplies. Her friends. She could still hear Steve’s voice, steady and reassuring as he’d promised they’d regroup at the observatory. "It’s high ground. Safe."

Safe. The word felt hollow now, meaningless against the reality of what she’d seen. If it was so safe, why weren’t they there? Where was Sam, Bucky and Natasha?

Looking around, Doc was sure: no one of them was there yet.

She reached the base of the tower, her chest heaving as she gripped the rusted railing of the staircase. The old metal groaned beneath her touch, the sound echoing in the stillness. For a moment, she hesitated, her gaze flicking back toward the forest. The faint sound of groans was still there, a low, distant hum that sent a shiver down her spine.

They were coming. Slowly but surely, they were coming.

Her boots clanged against the metal steps as she began to climb, each step a battle against the exhaustion threatening to drag her down. The staircase spiraled upward, the air growing colder and thinner with each turn. Dust swirled in the shafts of pale light filtering through the gaps in the tower’s walls, catching in her throat and making her cough. She gritted her teeth, forcing her legs to keep moving.

The top of the tower was just as she remembered it—wide, open, and eerily quiet. The observatory dome loomed above, its glass panels shattered and jagged, allowing the wind to whistle through unchecked. The room was empty, save for the remnants of equipment long abandoned: a rusting telescope lying on its side, a desk with drawers hanging open, and a scattering of papers so faded they were little more than fragments.

Doc’s eyes darted to every corner, every shadow, searching for any sign of her friends. But the room was still. Lifeless. She dropped the satchel onto the floor, her legs threatening to give out beneath her as the weight fell away.

She waited, standing in the center of the room as the silence pressed in. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her mind racing with questions.

Why weren’t they here? Had something gone wrong? Had they even made it this far?

The questions circled in her mind, relentless and unanswerable. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if the sound was her heartbeat or the faint groans of the horde below. Her friends had been right there—right there—just minutes ago. She’d barely been apart from them long enough for anything to happen. They were ahead of her when she veered back toward the fire station. They had to be here. They had to.

She paced the room, her boots scuffing against the dusty floorboards. Every creak of the wood beneath her feet made her flinch, her nerves stretched thin. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she glanced toward the stairwell, half expecting to hear the echo of hurried footsteps or a voice calling her name. But there was nothing. Only the wind and the hollow groan of the old building settling under its own weight.

Minutes passed, though they felt more like hours. The emptiness of the observatory pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating, the quiet amplifying the chaotic churn of her thoughts. She moved toward the cracked window, her fingers brushing against the jagged frame as she peered outside.

Where were they? Had they been delayed by walkers? Overrun? Her mind spiraled, conjuring images she didn’t want to see: Sam cornered, Natasha until her last breath, Bucky shouting commands as he went down swinging... The scenarios played out like a cruel slideshow, each one worse than the last.

Her fingers clenched against the window frame, splinters digging into her palms. Her throat tightened, the raw ache of helplessness clawing its way up. She forced her gaze down to the clearing below, desperate for anything—a sign of movement, a clue, something.

She should’ve stayed with them. She shouldn’t have gone back for the supplies. She should’ve—

Something moved.

Her breath hitched as her gaze locked onto the clearing. At first, she thought it might have been the wind shifting the frost-covered grass, but then she saw it again—subtle, deliberate. A figure.

The person came into focus slowly, as though emerging from the haze of her scattered thoughts. They moved unevenly, their gait uneven but not aimless. One hand clutched at their side, where dark streaks of red stained their coat.

Blood.

Doc’s pulse quickened as her eyes followed their movements, taking in the bag slung over their shoulder, the way they adjusted its weight with a practiced efficiency.

Her grip on the window frame tightened. This wasn’t one of her friends, that was for sure.

She would have recognized their silhouette, their stride. But this person—whoever they were—didn’t stumble like a walker, nor did they panic like a survivor running for their life. There was something else in the way they moved. It wasn’t desperation.

It was...Calculation. Probably, he was a tracker of some kind.

She swallowed hard, her mind latching onto the details she could make out from this distance:

The bag. The blood. The deliberate, almost methodical way they navigated the clearing.

A flicker of unease sparked in her chest, followed quickly by something sharper. Anger, there was something wrong.

Her gaze dropped to the bag they carried. The stitching along its edges. The way it sagged, its contents shifting with each step. Her breath caught as realization dawned, slow and painful.

That’s ours.

Her mind snapped back to the fire station—the empty shelves, the supplies she’d fought to protect. The chaos of the walkers flooding the area. The pieces fell into place with a sharp finality that left her reeling. The strange figure she had a glimpse…

Her knees threatened to buckle, but she locked them in place, her hands shaking as they hovered near the rifle slung across her back.

This wasn’t some coincidence. This person—this stranger—had taken from her. From them. And now, they were walking away with what might have been theirs.

Her heart hammered in her chest, anger bubbling up beneath the exhaustion. She pulled the rifle from her back with trembling hands, her fingers curling around the cold metal as she raised it. Her breaths came quick and shallow, the weight of her own voice cutting through the stillness as she shouted.

“Hey!” The word ripped from her throat, raw and trembling, “Stop right there! I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

The figure halted, their body eerily still despite the tension in her voice. Slowly, almost deliberately, they turned to face her. The movement was unnerving in its precision—not the panicked flinch of someone caught off guard, but the calm shift of someone who knew they held the upper hand.

The wind carried the faint, sickly scent of decay as the figure’s full form came into view. He wore a long coat, dark and heavy, its edges caked in mud and streaked with the dried, rust-colored smears of walker blood. The coat’s fabric hung unevenly over his lean frame, torn in places where crude patches of cloth and leather attempted to hold it together. His hands were bare, the knuckles split and red, as though they had seen far too much use against both the living and the dead.

But it was his face that gave Doc pause.

The sharp lines of his features were partially obscured by streaks of dirt and dried blood. A faint layer of stubble darkened his jawline, blending with the grime on his skin. His brown eyes were cold, unsettlingly sharp, and locked onto her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. A smear of blood—fresh—traced the edge of his brow, disappearing into his short, neatly cut brown hair, which somehow remained untouched by the chaos that covered the rest of him.

More disturbing was the way his coat and boots glistened in places, patches of gore clinging to them as if he had waded through the carnage of walkers, not just avoided them. Thin strands of flesh—barely noticeable but sickening once seen—clung to the seams of his coat. He had blended with the dead, hiding among them, a grotesque trick that made Doc’s stomach turn.

So, he was indeed who she had spotted back there.

Even from this distance, there was an air of control about him, a calm that didn’t belong in a world where survival demanded chaos and fear. It set her on edge.

“I said stop!” she barked again, her voice trembling with anger, but her finger steadied on the trigger.

The figure tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering across his otherwise impassive face. His gaze dropped briefly to the rifle aimed at his chest before returning to her, his posture shifting as though weighing his options.

He didn’t answer her.

The wind howled through the shattered panes above, the distant groans of walkers carried with it, growing closer. Doc’s chest heaved with shallow breaths as the silence stretched between them.

Her eyes darted to the bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s in the bag?” she demanded, her voice rising to fill the silence, “And who the hell are you?”

The man’s lips twitched faintly, not quite a smile but the ghost of something that made her skin crawl. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, his movements slow and deliberate, as though to show he wasn’t reaching for a weapon.

“Supplies,” he said at last, his tone low and measured. His accent—a faint trace of something Eastern European—added a layer of dissonance to the single word.

Doc’s jaw tightened.

“My supplies,” she shot back, her anger bubbling to the surface, “You stole them. You brought the horde down on us.”

The man’s pout deepened the unease curling in her chest. His shrug was almost dismissive, but it was cut short by a sharp flinch, his hand twitching toward the bloodied side of his coat. Doc’s gaze flicked to the dark stain spreading there, her mind registering more of the injury even as her anger refused to abate.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said evenly, his tone bordering on indifference.

Her grip on the rifle tightened, the cold metal grounding her in the face of his maddening calm.

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped, her voice rising, “That bag—you got it from the fire station. It’s ours. You tore through our shelter and left us for dead.”

The slightest hint of amusement played across his face, though it was hard to tell if it was real or just part of the mask he seemed to wear so effortlessly.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he met her gaze. His tone was quiet, almost conversational, but it carried an undercurrent of steel, “You understand that, no? Survival demands... Adaptability.”

Adaptability my ass, Doc’s breath hitched as his words sank in. Stripping them of their supplies and drawing the horde straight to their door? That was adaptability?

In her world, that was called stealing.

“You put my friends in danger,” she spat, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury, “If they’re dead—”

“Then it is not because of me,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through hers like a blade.

The calm precision of his words made her falter. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t plead or defend himself. He simply stated it, as though it were fact.

Doc’s hands shook, the rifle trembling in her grip. Her mind raced, torn between the instinct to pull the trigger and the gnawing doubt creeping in at the edges of her anger. He wasn’t wrong. The walkers were coming, and they had been closing in even before she’d reached the fire station. But that didn’t absolve him. Not when her friends were still missing.

“And why shouldn’t I shoot you right now, you fucker?”

The man’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression sobering. He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against his wounded side as he straightened.

“Because,” he said, his tone measured, “we are both still standing here. If you shoot, it will only bring the horde's attention to us.”

Doc’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding as the weight of his words pressed against her better judgment. He wasn’t pleading. He wasn’t begging for his life. He was stating facts, and that infuriated her even more.

Her finger hovered over the trigger, the weight of the rifle almost comforting in her hands. The logical part of her mind screamed at her to pull it—to end this before he had the chance to turn on her. But the sound of the groans in the distance, carried on the sharp winter wind, kept her grounded. He wasn’t wrong. One shot, and the horde would come straight for the tower. And with the way they were closing in, there wouldn’t be time to outrun them.

He tilted his head again, watching her with an infuriating calm, as though he could sense her internal struggle. His piercing blue-gray eyes were unflinching, almost clinical, like he was dissecting her every move.

“You are angry,” he said, his tone devoid of apology but filled with a maddening level of understanding, “That is fair. I would be too. But anger will not help you find your friends. It will not help you survive.”Doc let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound cracking against the tension like shattering glass.

“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor,” she snapped, her voice trembling with the force of her frustration. “You stole from us. You put us in this position.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded with a faint nod, his voice still maddeningly even. “But I am not the reason your friends are not here. The world is cruel enough without your help in laying blame.”

Son of a bitch.

Her knuckles whitened around the rifle, her chest heaving as she fought to keep her emotions in check. The rational part of her mind screamed that every second spent talking to him was a second wasted. But the truth—raw and unforgiving—dug into her like a blade: how would she find Sam, Natasha and Bucky? She had no idea where they could have gone.

He must have noticed the slight falter in her stance because his voice softened, the sharp edge of his tone giving way to something almost persuasive.

“Think about it,” he continued, gesturing faintly to the dark stain spreading across his side. “You want to find your friends, right? I need help treating this, because I’m not a doctor myself.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, “But I saw you back there taking those vials, you seem to know something or two about it. We can help each other. Or we can die here, arguing over what cannot be undone.”

Doc’s stomach churned, the truth of his words twisting like a knife in her gut.

She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t. But he was right.

Her friends could be anywhere, and the supplies she had weren’t enough to see her through on her own. Despite not trusting him, she wasn’t a tracker either, she had no clue how to find them.

Her voice was quieter when she spoke again, though it still carried the edge of her anger, “How do I know you won’t turn on me the second I patch you up?”

The flicker of a smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I could have killed you already if that were my intention,” he said simply. “But I didn’t. That should count for something, no?”

He was referring back to the fire station, when she had found him. You didn’t because it would bring the attention of the walkers to you, she dared say it out loud.

However, she got a glimpse of a dagger clinged in him. He could have easily sneaked up on her and killed her right there.

Damn.

She didn’t respond, her glare burning into him as she weighed her options. He shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his injury. Despite his calm exterior, she could see the subtle signs of pain etched into his features—the tension in his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

“If you kill me,” he added, his voice dropping lower, “You lose your only ally in finding them. And if I die, well, that would be my problem, I guess.”

Doc’s lips parted, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but the sound of the horde cut through her thoughts like a warning. The groans were closer now, their low, guttural chorus blending with the distant rustle of movement through the trees.

Time was slipping through her fingers, and she knew it.

She let out a sharp breath, lowering the rifle slightly but keeping it trained on him.

“Fine,” she bit out, the word heavy with reluctant resolve, “But if you even think about double-crossing me—”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his tone clipped but sincere, “I am a man of my word.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the audacity of his claim. A man of his word? He’d just admitted to stealing from her, to taking supplies that didn’t belong to him. But the alternative was clear. She could kill him, call the walkers down on herself, and hope to find her friends alone—or she could take the gamble.

Her hands shook as she pulled the satchel off her shoulder, the supplies inside rattling faintly.

“Climb,” she ordered, nodding toward the nearest flat surface—a weathered bench that looked as though it might collapse under his weight, “Quick, don’t worry about the wound, I will take care of it once you are up here.”

He complied without argument, though the effort was clearly taxing on him. His eyes narrowed briefly in pain as he shifted, but he moved with the grace of someone used to enduring hardship. As he climbed, his movements were slow, deliberate, clearly trying not to strain his injury further. The bench creaked under his weight, but it held, albeit barely.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she muttered loudly enough for him to hear, her eyes still fixed on him.

“I would be disappointed if you did,” he replied instantly, the smirk never leaving his face. He was far too calm, too confident—something about that smugness made her blood run cold, but she couldn’t afford to focus on that now.

The wind howled through the shattered panes above them, the moans of the walkers growing louder with every passing second. The sound was unnerving, distant but unmistakably close. Her stomach churned as she tried to ignore the gnawing sense of urgency that gnawed at her from every direction.

This was a risk—a dangerous one—but it was a risk she had to take. For her friends. For herself.

She needed to find them. She needed to find Bucky. He and that injury... she couldn’t say for how long he would be okay without the antibiotics. And he couldn’t afford to wait much longer. His arm—his right arm—had been torn off, the injury severe. And without the proper care, it would only get worse.

Worse, she still had no idea where Steve, Wanda, and Vision were.

And as she wondered about all of that, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze on her, cold and calculating, as though he were already thinking five steps ahead.

Good for him, Doc thought with herself, because I always think ten steps ahead.

[cryforcorpse]

I’ve made a marvel poly soulmate fic, it’s currently being written but here’s the link and everything. I’d love it if you gave it a chance! It’s OFC and poly with her not being the center of the relashionship!  Chapters: 3/? Summary:A girl who has spent her whole life in labs and getting experimented on gets rescued from Hammer Industries' basement by the one and only Tony Stark and is hand delivered to SHIELD's director Nick Fury. She never understood why SHIELD wanted to keep her so bad, only discovered a few years later when she boards a helicarrier that coincidently has all her soulmates in it.

[editorandchief]

Cosmic Cameo

Requested: Nah

Summary: Cara doesn't remember much of anything before that fall, but what she does remember might come in handy for what will happen next

OR

In which Cara Cassidy falls smack dab in the middle of the MCU and can't help but to get involved.

Warning: None

Blue, that's all there was. Blue of the sky, no blue of the water, the sound of it rushing into her ears, the cold all over her body.

'Why can't I move? Help, I need help. Someone help me! Please!' She screamed even with knowing no one would hear her.

She can't breath the pressure was too much she has to breath, there was no way the she would be able to swim to the surface and holding her breath was only delaying the inevitable.

'1....2....3.' Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath prepared for the liquid to fill lungs but, instead she is met with air. Her eyes snap open.

Blue, that's all there was not blue of the water the sky, the sound of the wind rushing past her head  pushing her hair forward, she was falling.

Stretching her arms forward in a useless attempt to grab something, anything, nothing. Once again knowing your going to die and not being able to do anything about it.

Its coming it had to be. The ground coming closer and closer. What would it feel like? Would it be instant? Better than drowning she figured.

screams of people watching helplessly from the ground grew closer and closer.

'1....2.....3.' Closing her eyes, preparing for the impact, the end.... Nothing.

Blue, That's what she saw, trying to get over the fact that she was seeing  anything at all. Blue eyes of a person standing above her, the sound of footsteps and monitors beeping around the room.

"Hello, ma'am?" The deep voice called. "Can you hear me?" It asked.

All she could do was blink, what else are you supposed to do when you're meant to be dead. Cara thought she should be floating face down in a river somewhere or laid out across the cement.

"Hello?" The voice called again. "Do you need anything? Are you hurt?" It asked.

"What do you mean is she hurt?" Another voice sounded from elsewhere in the room. "You should be asking that crater in the ground."

"Can you tell me your name." The voice called ignoring the previous statement.

"Where am I?" Was the first thing to come from Cara's mouth. Finally able to focus she looks to the man standing in above her.

"You're safe." He replied. " Can you tell me what happened?" He asked.

"When?" She asked confused.

"Before, during or after your fall from the sky." the other voice called.

"Tony." The first man chastised. "Do you feel hurt at all?" He continued.

"No, I'm fine." She replied taking a deep breath.

"My name is Steve Rogers. Can you tell me yours?" He asked.

Steve Rogers? Was this a joke or something? Did she land in the middle of Comic Con or a Cosplay contest or something?

"Funny." She scoffed.

"Ma'am?" He asked confused.

"I said your real fun-." Chris Evans, it was Chris Evans. "Where am I?" Cara asked again.

"Where do you think you are?" The other voice asked. That can't be... Looking over to the source of the noise, Oh My God! It's Robert Downey Jr. "Or Where did you come from? You can answer either." He said walking around behind her back.

"I came from..." Trailing off as her mind went blank. "I'm.... Where am I?" She reverts back to her initial question.

"You're in the the Avenger's Tower." Chris replied. "We found you and brought you here to make sure you were okay."

"That's a nice way of saying making sure she's not a threat." Tony interjected once again.

"Am I on the set?" Cara asked.

"What set?" Chris asked.

"Avengers." She answered.

"Yes, ma'am we are the Avengers," Chris confirmed. "Now we wanted to know if you could tell us how you fell." He asked staring intensely  into her eyes.

What was he talking about, did he think that she thought that the Avengers were real so he was trying to humor her, maybe he though she was crazy, but he brought up Steve Rogers first.

"What did you say your name was again." She asked thinking maybe she had heard wrong.

"Steve Rogers ma'am." He restated.

"And we're in New York aren't we?" She asked. "In the Avengers Tower." She continued.

"Yes." He confirmed.

"You're Steve Rogers," She states before turning her head around finding Robert leaning in a table watching her from afar. "And you're Tony Stark." She pointed out.

"You know me, I'm flattered." Robert says putting his hand over his heart.

"She awake." A new voice emerged into the lab, Mark Ruffalo. "Has she said anything?" He asked.

"Let me guess." Cara replied before any of the other character could. "Dr. Bruce Banner."

"Have we met?" He asked confused as to how this unknown woman knew his name.

"No but its not hard to to figure out." She replied. "So what's going on here, are you guys like methods?" She asked. It was pretty clear either one of two things was happening right now.

1.) She had hit her head walking down the street and some how ended up being found by Chris Evans, Mark Ruffalo, and Robert Downey Jr. in the middle of a rehearsal for the next Avengers movie.

But considering both Steve Roger and Tony Stark are very much unalive.

2.) She had been magically teleported into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and now she was stuck until she figured out her purpose in order to return home.

But considering that was crazy.

"You know I have a question." Robert says coming closer. "How are you not dead?" He asked causing the woman to give him a confused look.

"Tony." Chris glared.

"No, she fell from the sky and left a her sized hole in the earth." He continued. "And yet here she is talking and breathing."

"Wow if I didn't know any better I'd think you wanted me dead." Cara sassed to the older man.

"Don't take it personally." He replied.

"Kinda hard not to." She rebutted.

"It's just it would be nice to know who or what you are before we unstrap you and sent you off into the world." He informed. Unstrapped? Looking down at her hands for the first time Cara realized she was indeed restrained.

"what the hell?" She muttered pulling in the metal cuffs that appeared to be attached to the chair she was sitting on. "I don't suppose you'd take these off if I asked nicely would you?" She asked smiling up at the smug looking man with the goatee.  

"No." He answered,

"I guess were going with option 2." Cara mumbled.

Oh My God! I could save them, I could save Natasha and Loki and Tony if she had time, she could stop the Avengers from breaking up, she could save Killmonger from dying, everyone from getting dusted. But she knew she couldn't do that from here.

"I think there are something we need to discuss before those can come off." Steve states being as calm and collected as he was portrayed in the movies.

"Things like what?" Cara demand growing frustrated with the lack of mobility. "Why you kidnapped me? Why your holding me against my will?" She asked rhetorically.

"Well no," Bruce chimed in fiddling with a pen nervously. "Our line of questioning was going in a different direction."

"North, East, South...?" Cara sassed.

"What are you?" Bruce asked ending the remainder of her sarcastic remark.

"What do you mean?" She asked taken aback by the sudden question.

"What are you?" Tony repeated. "Alien? Asgardian? Angel?"

"I'm human." She stated plainly as it seemed to be the most obvious answer.

"Right," Tony replied crouching down slightly to eye level with the young female. "And regular human appear out of a portal and fall hundreds of feet at a thousand miles per hour and walk away with out a scratch?"

Leaning in closer staring straight into the eyes of the smug looking billionaire.

"You did." She smirked refusing to be the first to look away. From what she had observed from her many rewatching of the MCU was that you never back down first, and while Tony Stark was nothing to scoff at due to his sarcastic nature and witty references he definitely wasn't the most intimidating person she could be in this position with.

"Good point." He sighed out quickly standing back to full height. "Tell you what Icarus, how about once the list of human who have done that extends past you and I, we'll talk about getting those restraints removed." He shrugged turning his back before beginning to tap on some sort of screen.

"Stark now is not the time for your childish games." The Asgardian prince slightly scolded before approaching the restrained young woman. "I am Thor, son of Odin, prince of Asgard and Midgard is under my protection state you business in this realm?"

"..."

"Please?" The god questioned taking of his mask of intimacy with a slightly hint of a smile.

Cara couldn't help but smile back, it was moments like these that she couldn't help but see Thor as a puppy or a child. A 6 foot 6 puppy.

"Thor, son of Odin, prince of Asgard and protector of Midgard. 'Wow that's a mouth full' I have as much business in this realm as the man taking his morning jog through the park or the bird that is probably flying over the city. I'm just trying to live." She pleaded hoping she was pulling off the innocent look she was going for.

"Welp I for one believe lady..." He trailed off into confusion upon realizing he didn't know the name of the young woman currently being held in the room.

"Cara." She assisted.

"Thank you." Thor stated before turning back to his fellow avengers. "Lady Cara."

"Cara huh." Tony questioned. "I would have guessed something more biblical like Castiel or Lucifer."

"I'm not an angel." Cara groaned out shutting her eyes and throwing her head back in frustration. "And even if I was, what's it to you?"

"I'm sorry?" Steve asked.

"What I mean is I haven't done anything wrong, I haven't broken any laws or hurt anyone. You have no right to keep me here." She clarified.

"Look you may not know this but the last time a portal opened up and something came through it spelt bad news for everyone." Natasha spoke for the first time from her place near the exit.

"I think everyone knows about that, what I don't know is what it has to do with me." Cara said through gritted teeth. "I mean no offense but don't you people have better thing to do than to keep me captive? I know I do."

"Things like what?" Clint interjected. "Enslaving the human race?"

"Oh my god!" Cara groaned.

How was she ever going to save everyone strapped to this chair being held captive by the people who she was trying to save.

She had much bigger thing to deal with like Bucky, Thanos, Wanda, Ultron... Oh god how was I gonna stop Ultron, there was no way I could convince Tony Stark that he was wrong about anything yet alone his master plan to save the world. Maybe keeping the scepter away from him altogether.

But no Ultron means no Vision ,and what would no Vision mean for Wanda? I can't even imagine.

"Is there someone else I can talk to?" Cara huffs. "Maybe someone with a better pair of listening ears and a basic value for human right and freedoms. Nick fury perhaps?"

"How do you know who Nick Fury is?" Natasha asked coming to stand closer in an attempt to intimidate.

"I know a lot of things." She shrugged.

"I doubt that. Cause if you knew anything you would know Fury is de-."

"Hiding out after faking his death, yeah I know that too. Natalia." Cara informed holding eye contact with the former Russian spy.

"Who are you." She asked making sure not to waver her gaze.

"I'm Cara." She stated firmly. "And as much as you people want to see me as a enemy I'm an trying to prove myself an ally."

Breaking her eye contact with the red head to meet the eyes of the remaining Avengers in the room, before returning to Natasha.

"And I can prove it if you would just let me out of these restrains." Nodding toward her restricted wrists.

"I'm sorry." Steve replied causing the 24 year old you grow her head back in frustration. "But we can't take that risk."

Cara didn't remember the Avengers being so annoying before, what ever happened to innocent until proven guilty. She needed them to trust her but had no idea how to make that happen , pretty sure the truth would land her in some max security mental hospital.

There has to be a way to blur the truth and she knew just how to do it. No matter what how she got here or what may be different because of it she knew more than anything that these people loved to be right she would just let them think they are.

Taking a deep breath Cara prepared for the worst before saying it.

"Not even for Loki's scepter?" She asked and was not surprised when everyone in the room shifted their full attention to her even Tony who seemed content with ignoring her pleas for release.

"What did you just say?" Clint asked wanting to find the scepter more than anyone after living through the effects of it. 

"I know where it is." She tells him before looking around the room. "Look your right. I'm not human or at least I don't know if I am." She sighed in fake sadness.

"What do you mean." Steve asked.

"I mean ever since I can remember I've had these visions. A man falling from a train, a rainbow bridge, a ballet studio, an old man in a cave in the desert." Cara listed significant events in the lives of the heroes standing before her. "I never knew if they were real or if I was just crazy. I swear I have no idea how I came through any portal and I sure a hell don't know how I'm still alive, but what I do know is that I would never try to hurt anyone." Cara finished allowing her eyes to slightly tear up.

There was a collective silence among the group as they all attempted to figure out how this stranger knew so much about them. 

"I got it." Tony said breaking the silence. "There is a whole museum dedicated to cap and his old war buddies." Tony explained away your first 'Vision'.

"Anyone can study Norse mythology, Widow over there released all of shields files and my kidnapping is public record at this point but nice try." Tony finished with an unimpressed look on his face. She could feel the other members also start to accept Tony's debunking of her story.

'Damn it, think of something no one else would know something, anything!' She screamed at herself. 

"I think that is enough games." Thor said seeming to have changed his previous vote for your innocence. "Your attempt to fool us have gone on long enou-." Stopping once Cara started speaking. 

"I've looked forward to this day for as long as you have, your my brother and my friend. Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you."

"What is that supposed to be?" Tony asked.

"Loki." Thor replied not taking his eyes of the young mortal girl. "Before my coronation on Asgard. My brother said those exact words to me."

"You can't read that in a book." Cara smiled gently, but you can watch it in a deleted scenes video. Honestly Cara was just glad that it actually happened in this world otherwise she would look even more crazy. "So what about letting me go?" She tried again.

"Sorry your gonna have to do better than that." Steve approached arms crossed.

"Loki's Scepter." Cara states. "I can help you find it." She offered.

"How?" Thor asked.

"I've already told you how." She replied. "But you have to promise after I do no more restrains and I'm free to go." She attempted negotiate.

"How about no more retrains and we'll see." Natasha offered.

"How about no more restrains and I'm free to go."

"How about you spend the rest of your life in a super max prison?" The red head countered.

"you know Drakov is still alive right?" Cara asked shock spreading across Natasha and Clint's face before they quickly mask it with a glare. "How about no more restrains and I'm free to go."

"Fine." Steve spoke before the petty argument could continue. "No more restrains and your free to go after we have the scepter?"

"Perfect." Cara smiled nodding towards her arms and legs.

"Tony." Steve states, nothing happened as the billionaire pretends to not have heard the request. "Tony come on."

"What if she's lying?" Tony asked. "We're just gonna let her roam around my lab touching things."

"There are six of us and one of her." Steve pointed out.

after a few moments tony let out a groan before pressing a button causing the straps to retract, stretching her arms and rubbing her wrist Cara takes this time to look around the high tech laboratory.

"So." Tony begins. "Where is it?" He asked raising an eyebrow at the girl.

"Where's what?" Cara asked before Tony took a step towards her. "Okay, Okay fine." She chuckles slightly.

"Hey, I gave you a shot don't make me regret this." Steve reprimands.

"Okay, You would thing at this point in time you people could take a joke." Cara muttered looking towards the ceiling as if searching for something. "Jarvis?" She asked.

"Yes Ma'am?" The A.I. replied.

"Hey Hey you don't talk to Jarvis." Tony scolds. "How do you even know about Jarvis?" He asked.

"I'm not answering this question again." Cara deadpanned. "Jarvis can you bring me up a satellite image of Sovkia?" Cara asked.

"Right away ma'am." He answered projecting a holographic image of the small city inches from the her face causing her to back up a few paces.

"Good thanks now I need you to search the other perimeter of the city for heat signatures." She informs. "Anything moving in formation consistently." She added.

"Here you are ma'am," Javis responds. "This area has shown a consistent path of small heat signatures recorded footage from the satellite shows for about the last three months or so."

"And are there any significant power sources coming from the area near the or inside of the signatures path?" Cara continued.

"Yes, there is an abandoned factory building just inside of the heat signatures path though it is emitting a significant amount of power." Jarvis confirms.

Turning to face the group of super individuals Cara opened her arms up wide.

"Heat signatures are patrols, that building is where you'll find your scepter and a one Baron Strucker as well." Cara informed. "Any questions from the class?" She asked rhetorically, though that didn't stop Bruce from raising his hand.

"Yes, Dr. Banner." Cara called.

"These abilities you say you've had them all your life?" He asked. "And you had no idea about the increased durability of you body? Have you ever given blood? Has there ever been any unexplained anomalies in your D.N.A.? If its possible I'd like to run some tests on your blood and determine the limitations of you body." Bruce rambled on not really giving the girl a chance to answer any of his questions.

"Um....Yes, No, No, and maybe if you buy me dinner first." Cara replied. "But I kinda meant scepter related questions." She clarified. 

"So you saying that this building is where the scepter had been the whole time?" Natasha asked.

"Well not the whole time but it is there now." Cara replied. "So am I free to go?"

"After we get the scepter." Steve reminded. "But for now I think this is a pretty solid lead , so we'll hold off on the restrains for now but you can't leave this building. Am I clear?" Steve asked.

"Yes dad." Cara replied sarcastically receiving  a stern look in return. "Fine I will not leave this building."

"Thank you." He replied.

"We need to move on this now before H.Y.D.R.A. gets wind of this and moves locations." Clint says studying the hologram of the building. "Jarvis can you play back the perimeter movements for the last three months and let me know if anything has changed between now and then?" Clint asked.

"The movement seems consistent Agent Barton." He replied.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Natasha asked Clint looking away from the electronic display.

"Yep." He answered. "We land in far wood of the south side looks great." He continued.

"perfect, we shall leave immediately." Thor states walking towards the exit.

"Thor." Steve called stopping the god in his track. "Be need and plan of attack we can't just go in there guns blazing." Steve says.

"How would that be different from all the other times?" Tony asked.

"We can not wait any longer and risk loosing it again." Thor counted. "Lady Cara is an unlikely advantage that may not be around to assist again."

"He's right just because you miss the scepter doesn't mean I was wrong and doesn't mean you can keep me here." Cara agreed. "We have a deal." Cara was all for helping the Avenger but she was not going to be some sort of prisoner she had thing to do people to save just like them.

"I said once the scepter is in our hands." Steve clarified.

"It is in your hands and your letting it slip through your fingers." She rebutted.

"Hate to agree, like really hate to agree with E.T over here." Tony started. "But we have to move on this as soon as possible."

"Still not an alien." Cara added.

"Predator?" He asked.

"Fine," Steve caved. "Two day. And then we move, Is everyone okay with that?" He asked receiving nods all around.

"Great, better rest up Icarus." Tony called to Cara as he heads to the exit.

"For what exactly" Cara asked following him out of the lab and down the hall stopping and waiting at the elevator as who she assumed to be the other Avengers come to a stop behind her.

"For the mission," Tony said stepping into the elevator. "You coming?" He asked noticing no one was following. "This H.Y.D.R.A. base may be legit but you could still be leading us into a trap and if you are I'd like you to be as close to getting shot as possible." He smirked pushing on of the floor buttons.

"And if I'm not, cause I'm telling the truth." Cara insisted. "I'll be an unprepared civilian in an active war zone." Cara pointed out.

"Then you can wait in the jet." He shrugged as the lift came to a stop and the doors opened revealing the living quarters. "Besides I'm sure Widow wouldn't mind slipping in a quick lesson."

"Of course not." Natasha said walking past the curly headed girl patting her on the shoulder.

"yeah, I'd defiantly take you up on that if I was ready to die." Cara replied.

"That might actually be a good idea," Bruce stepped in. "it would be a great way to test your reflexes and pain tolerance."

"Or you could shoot me." Cara suggested. "Yeah I like that idea bet-.." She joked but was cut short as a flash of light flew across the room and hit her in the chest sending her hurdling into a wall.

heads snapped from the girl to the source of the attack only to spot Tony at the bar with the iron glove on one and and a drink in the other. Standing up from the floor Cara looks over her body, nothing seemed broken and nothing hurt.

"What the Hell?" She glared. "You could have killed me." She whispered mostly to herself checking running her hand over the back of her head before checking her palm for any sign of blood.

"Look at that not even a limp? Scratch?" Tony asked putting his glass down. "Is your shirt even slightly singed? Now that's what I call durability."

"I think we got the durability part Stark." Clint said walking over to the girl helping her to the sofa as she assured him she was fine. "She fell three thousand feet." He reminded.

"Just checking," He defended. "Never hurts to check, well it didn't hurt me or her." He pointed out.

"Your lucky I wanna keep you from dying." Cara muttered to herself.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Nothing." Cara sighed. "Nothing at all."

"Anyways," Tony said squinting his eyes. "Let's get you set up with a room and ready for that training." Tony said taking off down the hallway Cara rushing to follow.

"I'm still not doing that." Cara said slowing down as she falls into step with the older man.

Two days that was all, this was good right? It gives her a chance to get her plan together like how was she going to find  Bucky or maybe stop Scott from going into the quantum tunnel and missing five years of his daughter's life. However that was caused by the snap which won't happen if she could figure out how to stop Thanos.

"Here you go," Tony said stopping in front a door typing in a few numbers.

The door slides open revealing a quite luxurious bedroom with  various shades of grey covering the walls and floors.

"I hope this is up to you standards." Tony says following her in. "I mean it's not Asgard, but."

"I'm not from Asgard, Tony." Cara said rolling her eyes.

"Well, goodnight." Tony brushed off turning to leave.

"Goodnight?" Cara asked.

"Oh it's a term we use here on earth, before you go to sleep," Tony informed sarcastically. "and sleep is when us human close our eyes and our bodies recharge for the upcoming day." He finished.

"I know what sleep is." She counted.

"But we're still confused on the term goodnight." Tony pointed out.

"I just didn't realize it was night, I actually have no idea what time it is." Cara suddenly realized.

"The time is currently 11:46pm ma'am." Jarvis' voice flows through the room.

"thanks Jarvis." Tony answered before continuing on his way out. "Make sure to rest up cause there's no way that training with widow isn't happening." He called over his shoulder allowing the door to close behind him.

Looking around, Cara made her way over to the bed allowing her body to fall backwards and letting out a sigh.

'I'M SO SCREWED!" She shouts into the empty room. "when I chose M.C.U. New York over D.C. Gotham I didn't know this was going to happen."

All the things she had needed to do, the death she wanted to prevent. She couldn't even begin to think of a way to get into Wakanda to warn them of Killmonger, or maybe get to Killmonger and talk him out of trying to kill T'challa, Maybe stop King T'chaka from dying and the Avengers from falling apart.

There was no way she could remember all this and what if the changes she made weren't for the best... Would the T.V.A try to stop her?

Writing it down would be a disaster waiting to happen, if anyone found it Avenger or otherwise who knows what could happen.

"I need a shower." She muttered sitting up on the bed, running her hands over her face in frustration.

"I can get the shower prepared for you ma'am." Jarvis replied as running water sound from one of the closed doors in the room. "Do you have a preferred temperature?"

"Warm?" Cara asked.

"Warm water is typically between 110 - 90 degrees Fahrenheit." Jarvis informed.

"Ummm 100." Cara answered with a shrug, all these were problem she could solve tomorrow, for now the only thing on her mind was showering and getting to finally rest her mind.

[hogwartsalumni08-slytherin]

Safe House Surprise

Clint Barton's POV:

I'm walking up the stairs of my little sister's house's front porch in the country. This is the one place that I could think of where the Avengers will be safe from the killer robots. Thor asks, "What is this place?" Tony says, "Safe house." I say as I'm helping Nat up the stairs because she is injured,  "Let's hope." We all go inside Holly's house.

I ask, "Holly?" Holly says, "Oh? Ummm...hi." I say, "This is my little sister, Holly." Holly says, "Pleasure to meet you all." Tony just awkwardly waves.

I hear a voice say, "Holly, darling, why do I hear people?" Tony asks, "Someone else lives here?" I shrug because honestly didn't know of my little sister had a boyfriend or not. 

Holly tucks her dark brown hair behind her ears and says, "No I uhm..." I see Loki come around the corner; and, he says, "Are you alright? I thought I heard people in the house?" Steve asks, "Loki?" Holly says, "Surprise?!" 

Tony says, "Please tell me this is a joke." Holly says, "It's no joke. Loki ended up on earth and met me." I look back and forth between Loki and Holly; they both seem to love each other like with that heart eye emoji look. Holly continues, "And well..." Then she looks at Loki with her chocolate brown eyes, Loki says, "We fell in love." Thor immediately says, "I'm honestly happy for you, brother." I give Holly a nod to agree with Thor's sentiment. Loki says, "Thank you, brother." Holly gives me a wink. Bruce looks like he is in shock. 

Tony says, "I'm about to puke. This is the same person who tried to take over earth." Holly asks, "Do you want to stay at our house or not?" Natasha gives me a strange look and I smirk because I know how stubborn my little sister is. Steve quickly says, "Thank you, Holly and Loki." 

[arjokonya]

"most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists, but the ones that do, call him the winter soldier. he's a murderer, medea."

"yes, but he saved my life, and it's i am just returning the favour."

[remussl0vers]

requesting guide

updated: 17.06.23

please make sure to read this before requesting anything — i'm hoping that you'll respect my boundaries on what am i comfortable with and with not writing.

MASTERLIST

I tend to curse often in my fics, and are usually comfortable with covering more serious topics, so make sure to check the content warning before hand. I always write warnings when I believe they're needed, but do let me know if you think something should be added!

also senders may request as many as they want <3

FORMS OF WRITING :

oneshot

imagine

headcanon

series

alphabet

I tend to write oneshots over 1000 words, so if you want feel free to specify if you want a long or short story.

CONTENT I WRITE :

fluff

angst

sensitive / triggering topics

gore

smut / spice

most tropes ( best at friends to lovers )

I'm pretty comfortable with writing sensitive topics as well as angst ( anyone who's read my works before will know that they're the things I write best ) however, if I'm not comfortable with the topic as a whole I will DM you, or possibly put it off for a while.

*If you have a writing prompt from somewhere as well, feel free to send it through !!

CHARACTERS :

male reader / ftm

gender neutral

genderfluid

original character

I do not write female readers / characters anymore. If there aren't specified pronouns then I will write it as a male character.

There are also some characters I only feel comfortable writing for with a male reader/character and vice versa, which I'll note who.

PAIRINGS :

love interests

platonic

family

polyamorous ships ; depends on the character

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE :

support of homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, racism, sexism, pedophilia, incest ; if they're mentioned in a request in terms of the character being bullied / abused ( in the past ) then i may write it but NOT explicitly, only a mention

a pairing against a character's canon sexuality

rape

pregnancy

female reader

anime

WHO I WRITE FOR :

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES :

charles rowland

edwin payne

monty

niko sasaki ( not romantic )

crystal palace ( not romantic )

DESCENDANTS :

ben beast

harry hook

carlos de vil

jay

mal bertha

evie grimhilde

LOCKWOOD & CO :

anthony lockwood

lucy carlyle

george karim

quill kipps ( friends / family only )

MARAUDERS :

remus lupin

sirius black

regulus black

james potter

lily evans ( not romantic )

evan rosier

barty crouch jr

marlene mckinnon ( not romantic )

dorcas meadows ( not romantic )

pandora lovegood ( not romantic )

mary mcdonald ( not romantic )

MARVEL :

peter parker / spiderman ( tom and andrew )

loki laufeyson

kate bishop

yelena belova ( not romantic )

steve rogers

bucky barnes

pietro maximoff

wanda maximoff

valkyrie ( not romantic )

natasha romanoff

tony stark ( not romantic )

gwen stacy ( emma stone )

gwen stacy ( atsv )

*marvel and particularly the mcu is a fandom i'm more comfortable with than most, so if there is a character not listed, then i may or may not write for them

NARNIA :

prince caspian

peter pevensie

edmund pevensie ( only during dawn treader )

SHADOW AND BONE / SIX OF CROWS :

kaz brekker

inej ghafa

jesper fahey

wylan van eck

nina zenik

alina starkov

nikolai lantsov

genya safin ( not romantic )

matthias helvar

STRANGER THINGS :

steve harrington

jonathon byers

max mayfield

robin buckley ( not romantic )

TEEN WOLF :

stiles stilinski ( *i will take most/all dylan obrien characters )

isaac lahey

scott mccall

liam dunbar ( not romantic )

allison argent

malia tate

lydia martin ( not romantic )

kira yukimura

derek hale

THE HUNGER GAMES :

finnick odair

peeta mellark

katniss everdeen

THE MAZE RUNNER :

newt

thomas

minho

X-MEN :

logan howlett

charles xavier ( james mcavoy )

jean grey

mystique

rogue

erik lehnsherr ( not romantic )

wade wilson / deadpool

kitty pryde

bobby drake

*FANDOMS COMING SOON : PJO, DISNEY, HANNIBAL

[steviebbboi]

Red (Chapter 03)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Original Female Character (OFC)

Summary:

Eleana Harlow (Ellie) is an Enhanced Individual turned Avenger. She's also Steve's everything. She just doesn't really know it yet.

Warnings: non-canon, slight canon divergence, sorta established relationship, OFC has powers and is POWERful, enhanced!reader, protectiveSteve!, softDom!Steve, steve and OFC are intimate, angst, eventual smut, friend(ish) to lovers, mentions of mental health issues and PTSD, mentions of dissociative episodes, mentions of violence/death but its not too explicit. (* indicates chapters containing smut)

Would love some feedback, and any reblogs and comments are appreciated! MINORS DNI - DO NOT read unless you're 18+ thank you!

DISCLAIMER NOTE:

I don't give permission for anyone to post this work on any other platform. This only exists on Ao3 AND now Tumblr (5/29/24), so pls don't copy/paste. Also, I don't own any of the Marvel universe (I wish). All of my works are also unbeta'd so please be kind, and apologies for any edit mishaps.

Chapter 03. She Needed Him

Six months ago…

“Phoenix, we need you over here!” Natasha rasped into her ear piece. There was a fire in one of the office buildings due to a bomb explosion. Tasked with evacuating any survivors, Ellie dove straight to the scene. 

“On my way, Romanoff.” Ellie affirmed. A suicide bomber that was hired by Hydra decided to interfere with their mission by literally setting off a bomb in an area further away from where the real action was. Where Steve was fighting Brock Rumlow, Sam and Wanda dealing with his bandits were going after biochemical warfare. Tony flying towards what seemed to be Hydra’s new base location. The team being split into three completely different sections, Ellie and Natasha had to do what they could on this side. 

Finally reaching the outskirts of the burning building, Ellie was breathing heavily while she saw Natasha coughing and looking rough for wear – but was still holding up a severely injured civilian. “Nat, stay back. I got this.” 

Natasha let out a muffled ‘copy’ while Ellie held out her hands with every intention of putting out these fires. She focused all of her energy on absorbing the fire’s vitality and the raging flames started slowly dissipating into steam, gradually evaporating in the air. Smoke still could be smelt heavily although the fires were no longer a pressing issue. 

The hardest part of Ellie’s powers were that as she took away the fire externally, she was also inviting it in internally. She brought it back into herself. Her forearms shined a bright blazing orange all the way up to her shoulders, as she breathed slowly through the heat. Her veins glowing something bright. Concentrating on enmeshing the fire back into her always required more effort when she took it away. The fire had to go somewhere and she could take it. That’s what her powers were meant to do. 

Shuddering at the pressure and weight of the flames, she felt the familiar sensation of an intense heat sinking into her skin. Ellie couldn’t help but let out a pained grunt. Feeling her body envelop fire was always the most painful part. But she was well-versed at handling it. 

Still processing and embracing the current heat flowing in her body, she faintly heard Steve’s aggressive questioning, “What did you just say?!” She frowned and looked towards his direction where she could faintly see his outline and his grip on Rumlow tight, pulling him close. 

“Your precious Bucky asked for you. Before they put his head back in the blender.” Rumlow revealed with a distorted grin on his face. 

Ellie was just coming back into herself when she felt her heart drop. She quickly gave a glance to Natasha who glanced back. She was still directing civilians to a safer area across the way but even the Russian spy was pausing slightly and moving slower at hearing the revelation. 

“Where is he?” Steve demanded threateningly. Rumlow merely let out a gruffled laugh and tore open his vest to further reveal grenades strapped to his chest. “Well, I guess you’ll never find out.” He pulled a pin. 

“STEVE!” Ellie bellowed. Horror filled her entire being. It was like time just slowed down, and suddenly she found herself running. Not away from the explosion. But towards it…towards Steve. 

A distance away, Steve reacted too late and was about to suffer the consequences until Rumlow was enveloped with a red glow. Steve sharply glanced over at Wanda to see her attempting to control the explosion with a grimace on her face.

“Wanda, push him up and away from us!” Ellie suddenly shouted into the ear piece and was halfway to reaching them. Wanda listened to her command and tried to wait for her to reach them but she couldn’t hold onto the power of the Rumlow’s explosion any longer. Wanda struggled and suddenly thrusted her hands upwards with a shout, catapulting Rumlow 50 feet into the air. 

Ellie’s eyes widened in panic as she knew that she wouldn’t make it in time. Stopping in place, she thrust out her own hands in Rumlow’s direction to consume the flames. Absorbing fire into her body was a practiced skill, but that still didn’t make it easy. Ellie acted on pure instinct in trying to call back the flames that were aggressively waiting to be released from Rumlow’s burned body. However, trying to absorb instantaneous flames that were in the air that came from this far of a distance was not something that she has ever done before. Ellie had also never attempted to enmesh flames for a long amount of time. Any attempt in the past has landed her either in a severe, dissociative state, or had caused her to pass out. 

At that moment though, Ellie didn’t think about what would happen to her. Loud grunts were all she could let out as she grit her teeth against the massive pressure overriding her body. Ellie’s arms were straining as she invited the flames inside. The explosive fire caught down to her shoulders and chest. She could feel her yearning for the fire to flow through her. Desperate to move the element away from Steve. Almost like trying to seduce it into a new container. 

Her eyes widened as the fire looked never-ending. The flames were complying but not fast enough. Ellie’s aptitude suddenly shifted in her pain, her eyes squinting determinedly. “Whatever it takes.” she thought. A transformative force swept through her entire body and suddenly, something else was driving her call now. It was evident that it didn't care for Ellie’s life. It was unafraid, callous, fierce, and alive.

Steve’s eyes widened in fear as he saw Ellie fall hard onto her knees, half of her body was now on fire. 

“RED, LET IT GO!” Steve shouted into his com-piece. Ellie either didn’t listen to or hear the Captain’s command as her arms shook violently. Her once hazel eyes now glowed a wild and rageful orange. Red flames were erupting all over her body. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and let out a blood curling, pained scream. Her back bowed, her arms now outstretched away from her body, the rush of the explosion now completely enveloping her body. Flames poured out of her body simultaneously, almost flaying like wings. Her stature resembled her namesake, the Phoenix.

“Move your ass, Cap! She’s going to go into a hyper-pressurized supernova if she doesn’t let it go!” Tony warned. During Ellie’s power testing, they found that her powers allowed her to withstand intense heat. As hot as the power of the Sun…but while she can manipulate the fire, holding onto it and retaining it was something that could still kill others around her, and even herself in the process. Especially if she took on too much at one time. 

Steve’s feet moved before Tony could even finish his urgent warning. Speeding towards Ellie, still begging her to let it go in their comms, Steve also shouted at Wanda to contain her. “Wanda, can you stop her?” 

Wanda’s bright glow can be seen wrapping around Ellie’s “body.” At this point, her entire body was just a harsh emblem of fire. Her face was barely palpable. 

Struggling to contain her teammate’s power, Wanda responded through gritted teeth, “She’s starting to absorb flames from other parts of the city. I don’t think she even realizes that she’s doing it! I’m trying to reach her - she’s too strong!” Ellie was hard to see amidst the blaze, but they could all see that her body was still working on embracing the inferno of flames. Her “face” turned towards the sky and her back arched with flames entering her body without permission. 

Steve felt the ache in his legs as he pushed harder. “Cap! You need to frost her. NOW!” Tony yelled through the coms. Steve panted and slowed down his pace. He realized that even if he could reach her in time, he would be useless in stopping her. Her powers were now in control, the flames now glowing into something ethereal. The fire emoted passion and seemed threateningly lively.

His eyes sunk and filled with despair as he placed one hand to his ear and lowly said, “Wanda, slow down the fire intake as best as you can.” The StarkWatch’s interface on his cuff now glowing blue, Steve made a motion to extend the watch over his own hand. The device now resembled Iron Man’s notorious repulsor gauntlet.

Wanda’s eyes cut to him in a panic as she desperately pulled at Ellie’s prone body, doing her best to either slow down or extract the flames. “It’s no use…her powers are killing her.” she thought. Wanda knew that this was inevitable. Ellie was dying, and they had to try to save her.

An emergency‘frost’ was a last minute resort should Ellie ever be found in a compromising position where her powers were uncontrollable. The repulsors would emit nano-tech driven particles that attached to her biometric signature to shut down Ellie’s entire body, even ‘pausing’ her life functions for a period of time. 

When they all heard about the device for the first time, Steve was the first to react. “What do you mean, ‘pause’?” Steve interrupted Tony’s nonchalant explanation. Silence grew as Tony glanced at Steve with reluctance in his eyes. Steve slowly glowered in fury, no longer needing the explanation. He knew what it meant and he wanted to destroy the device at that very moment. Usually Tony was able to respond with a humored quip, or tailspin it to be not such a big deal. 

But even he couldn’t mask the fact that ‘pause’ really meant ‘to end’. 

With her body shut down, her powers would therefore become inactive. But that also translated into her being lifeless and at that moment, dead . Being vehemently met with angry protests, Tony quickly explained that the very device that could end her life also had the potential to bring her back. The nanobots would still be active in her system from the repulsor charge and would give enough time for them to activate her life functions once more and bring her back. Even after the team found out about the power of this device, they were revolted by the real, dreadful possibility of being the person to end their friend’s life. To also be the one responsible to try to bring her back.

While her friends agreed to only use it in true emergencies only, Ellie emphatically encouraged her team to use the contraption should the Phoenix ever take control. Steve stared darkly and intensely at Ellie. A wild look in his eyes ignited further once he heard her encouraging words. 

She understood that she may lose her life, but to her that didn’t matter as much, because she knew that using it would also save theirs. Steve stormed out of the room at that point. It took a while for him to even acknowledge, much more agree, to use the device in the field. Because even though Ellie felt differently about her life, Steve knew what it was like to have the power of sacrifice. He knew the regret that was left behind once a decision was made. 

To Steve, he didn’t care if the world burned. Her life was, and is, always the priority. 

But now as he outstretched his trembling arm, Steve unsteadily felt the gravity of this decision once more as he turned the repulsor in Ellie’s direction. His world slowed down and he tuned out everything else. He could barely hear Wanda and Sam’s panic, Tony shouting to activate the gauntlet, nor could he hear Nat’s calm voice reassuring him of his choice. 

All he could think of at that moment was Ellie’s smiling face, her laugh. Her stubbornness. Her endearing warmth and compassionate nature. Her soft skin grazing the back of his hand, the flushed red in her cheeks. Secret and unspoken gazes that they would share in moments where they were able to be authentic and together. Their bond. 

Steve’s eyes suddenly squinted in determination. She wasn’t going to die. He won’t let her. She’s always the priority. His arm steadied, and he fired.

“Guys, I already told you that I’m fine. You can stop hovering.” Ellie suppressed a shudder that ran through her body. She glanced up and gave her team a reassuring smile as if her body wasn’t completely on fire. Minus the pun. 

It’s been about 24 hours since they had to bring Ellie back from the brink of death. Dr. Cho and her team were at the ready and had her placed into the healing cradle straight from the quinjet. She woke up with a sharp gasp only 7 hours ago. Hearing only quiet exclamations from Wanda that she was alright and that they were now back on base. 

The cradle was able to repair any injuries that she sustained from the fight, and from the use of her powers. For the first time since she had discovered her powers, Ellie had a burn sustained on both of her shoulder blades. Dr. Cho was in noticeable disbelief when she told her that the cradle did what it could to help the burns- but what it left behind is something that the cradle couldn’t fix. 

Looking at the bathroom mirror, Ellie turned around and saw two outlines of wings on the back of her shoulders and going along the length of her spine. The marks weren’t very noticeable, but the faint lines of the wings did glisten with a red-rainbow aurora every time and again. When the subtle shine lifted around the edges of her right wing, she gasped. 

“They’re beautiful…” she wondered out loud as she lightly traced the outlines of the markings. Ellie couldn’t really comprehend nor could she wrap her mind around the fact that she had quite literally died in the past 24 hours, came back to life, found literal glowing tattoos branded onto her body, and most importantly… that Steve hadn’t once come by to check on her since they put her into the cradle. 

When she woke up from her “slumber of death” (Tony was already cracking jokes that the rest of the team were not laughing at, but she knew it was his way of caring and coping), Wanda was already sitting next to her, reassuring her, and letting her know that she and everyone else is safe. When she left to go get the others, it was Tony, Bruce and Natasha coming by to check in. Bruce naturally went into doctor mode to check on her stabilizing vitals and asked her how she was feeling. Meanwhile, Tony clapped her on the shoulder awkwardly while giving a short smile. Natasha welcomed her back and gave her forearm an affectionate squeeze with her signature smirk on her face. 

But no Steve. 

When Ellie muttered his name quietly, the team went eerily silent. A glance between Nat and Tony, and a wavering, guilty sigh from Wanda, Nat took the lead. With her classic nonchalant tone, she replied, “He’s debriefing with Sam to Fury and the council. Some things happened while you were out that have to be parsed through.” 

Now back in bed, Ellie blinked sleepily. Her eyes felt so tired. “What things?” 

The rest of the room’s occupants were still quiet. Ellie felt awake once more at the team’s silence. Her brain was slower than usual, but it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce what must have happened. 

“...I died, didn’t I?” Ellie warily asked. 

Wanda and Tony were quiet but fidgety, looking down at the floor with angst. Bruce was pretending to look at her chart but his eyes perked up every now and then. Natasha’s expression was unwavering and she moved to squeeze her shoulder. “You were gone for longer than we would have appreciated. But, we brought you back with Stark’s nanotech.”

Ellie merely blinked once, “How long?” 

Natasha’s expression did change this time, only slightly, coming from her place of nonchalance to forming a mild frown. “You were clinically considered dead for 7 minutes. By the time that we got back to base, you were down for another 5 until we got you into the cradle. Once you were in, you were already starting to stabilize.” 

Ellie couldn’t hold back her panic. “11 minutes?!” her thoughts went wild. It wasn’t even completely because of the fact that she had died and needed to be resuscitated. Her thoughts went wild because she knew that during those 11 minutes, Steve thought that she was dead. 

Steve, strong, charismatic, and powerful Steve, had thought that he had lost her forever for those 11 minutes. For 11 minutes, she didn’t have the opportunity to tell him that she was going to be okay. Or tell him that even if she did die, he would be okay. She cared about him…she loved him. Faintly, she could hear an increased ‘beeping’ noise but thought nothing of it. She could only think about seeing Steve. And yet, she came back, and he wasn’t there. 

Ellie felt another hand on her shoulder, “Sestra, you need to calm down. Relax.” Wanda gave her an affectionate rub while pouring calm into her thoughts. At Wanda’s words, she took a deep breath and exhaled. The beeping that she heard was slowing steadily. She couldn’t see it but Bruce was on standby with a sedative just in case. If her heart rate increased, her core temperature would heighten and they couldn’t risk her body being placed into that position again so soon. 

Ellie took another breath and on her exhale said, “Does he know that I’m back?” 

It was Tony who responded this time, “FRIDAY just let him know two minutes ago, Dante.” 

Before she could ask another question, Natasha interrupted her, “We’ll let you know when he gets here, okay? Until then, you need to rest, ptichka.” She gestured to Bruce and all of a sudden, Ellie felt a small prick on her arm. She frowned and let out an exhausted sigh. Everything floated back to black.

With Ellie now out for the count, Wanda looked back at her two mentors with a contemplative look. “Should we have told her that it was him that activated the repulsor?” 

“No,” Natasha said resolutely. Her voice carried into a soft whisper, “We all saw him on the jet. Let them talk it through when he gets here.” 

“I’ll have FRIDAY redirect Cap to the lab. I’m sure they’ll need all the space that they can get.” Tony mentioned out loud. “Us too, when you think about it.” Tony’s quip had the two women direct annoyed glances over his way. 

“I think what you meant to say, Stark, was that you’ll need space away from Rogers.” Natasha repurposed with a smirk on her face. Bruce, who was still looking at Ellie’s charts, let out a small chuckle, “It was that bad, huh?”

Tony rolled his eyes at that, “Yeah, well, I can’t fault him too much for it, can I? I, technically, was the one who told him to use it on his dear little ‘Red.’ But look at her now, all spry, a little pale, but alive!” He sprung out his arms in accomplishment. 

Natasha ignored his comments and replied to Bruce, “Let’s just say that Stark was lucky that he was in the suit.” One last glance over at Ellie’s resting form, she turned to walk back to the conference room that she was in with Steve and Sam. Hearing from afar, Tony was still ranting about how he saved Ellie’s life, and Wanda’s admonishment for the creation of the device – Natasha went onto the elevator. When the doors closed, she allowed her mask to fall and her eyes to close in her own exhaustion. 

They also didn’t manage to tell Ellie that Steve already knew that she was awake by the time that they got to the lab. They didn’t tell her that Steve merely glanced down with his jaw clenched. A dreaded look in his eyes. Recognizing the look of inner turmoil when she saw it, Nat offered to go check in on her in place of him. 

Exiting the elevator, she could see that their debrief was wrapping up. She entered the glass room and sneaked a glance at Steve. Sam looked at her curiously as she entered while Steve visibly froze and slowly turned his head to acknowledge her presence. One look into his eyes confirmed a sense of worry and desperation. Although his stiff body looked ready to run out of the room, Natasha knew that his brooding moment was over since she had left. If he had to run, he would run to her.

Fury’s holographic figure was seen in front of them, the world security council directly behind him. Their expressions tense, Fury directed his question at Natasha, “Status report on Harlow?” 

Natasha’s face didn’t expose any vulnerabilities. “Agent Harlow is now stable but sedated. She was notified of the mission debrief during her moment of consciousness, and had expressed that she would report in to debrief personally as soon as she was able.”

Fury knew that more had happened than she was letting on. Of course he does, he’s Fury. But everyone in that room understood that the World Security Council didn’t need to know anything other than the fact that she’s alive. Last thing that they need is to send Ellie to the Raft and claim her to be government property. For them to use as they please.

Steve wasn’t quelled by her response. He initially chose to debrief for the team because he just couldn’t see Ellie, look at her still and quiet body any longer. His eyes briefly closed as he reflected on what he witnessed in the jet. Ellie was just lying there. Her face devoid of any emotion, any expressiveness of her being alive. No pain, nothing. The nanotech was meant to instantly revive her once they called back the ‘frost’ command, but after what felt like hours (which was more like a long two minutes), she still wouldn’t wake up.

On his knees, all he could do was stare at her limp hand that dangled across the table while the others frantically started to do what they could to revive her. He briefly recalled Stark talking to FRIDAY about the repulsors’ status of the nanotech now existing in her lifeless body, and could see Sam hurriedly administering CPR. Wanda silently cried and held her other hand with a red glow, trying to reach into some level of her consciousness. Natasha had one hand on his shoulder that he could barely feel, asking him if he was okay. 

Steve was silent, growing more and more despondent. All he thought was, “Was he okay? He just killed Ellie, his Red. His best friend. The person that he swore to protect. A person that he loved and didn’t get the chance to tell her before she died. She wasn’t waking up. No. he was not okay.”

At that point, he did remember something feral overcoming his shock as he noticed Tony struggling with his holographic interface. All he could think of was that Stark and his stupid gadgets had just jeopardized everything that he held dear to him. He wasn't able to stop himself from throwing Tony to the side of the quinjet. He could still barely feel Natasha's and Wanda's hands trying to get him off of Stark's metal frame.

“The Phoenix was a trial period for the Avengers Initiative. Our concern still stands. What if another incident like this happens again?” A voice filled with suspicion and fear filled the space, suddenly snapping Steve out of his disturbing reverie. 

“Agent Harlow is an experienced, classified SHIELD agent and has demonstrated her place with the Avengers. She has helped save the world and the seats that you are currently sitting on. Are you going to keep insisting that she is still apart of a “trial period”, Councilwoman?” Fury directed back to the council member. 

“Her efforts in preserving the world are not going unnoticed, Director. Nor is it under-appreciated. It doesn’t change the fact that The Phoenix is an enhanced individual that is still progressing in power as we know it. As we have evidently seen today, she is dangerous. Her powers grow, and your team has yet to uncover the maximum potential that she holds. Much more, a level of containment. How can we have faith in your capabilities to determine the world’s safety upon a high-risked enhanced?” Another councilman shot back.

From behind Fury, a scoff can be heard by Sam. “This is ridiculous. That ‘enhanced’ had saved our lives. Without her, we would all be fried meat by now with a lot more casualties reported in Lagos.” Sam expressed his anger unashamedly.

The same councilman huffed in response, “That may be so, Mr. Wilson. It again doesn’t change the fact that she may better serve the people under more… structured systems. Systems in place that will enable a safer environment for the AI team to move freely. Without hazardous material on board.”

Steve could feel his ire raging hearing the council member’s words. How dehumanizing they are in treating Ellie’s life as dispensable.

“Perhaps we need to re-evaluate the AI team in accordance with the Accords once more. If the UN finds that the Phoenix was non compliant with the agreements, we will need to revisit this conversation.” Underneath these thin words was the threat of dividing the team. Laced with the exposure of the Phoenix being arrested and determined government property in a floating base in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. The image of Ellie disposed away, away from the team, and from him broke him.

“That’s enough.” The room went quiet under the command from the otherwise silent Captain America. 

Steve glared at the holographic forms with a rage that even the council members could palpably see. “The Avengers Initiative is still upholding the agreements with the Accords. Under any investigation, you would be violating the safeguards set in place to protect our team. As you know, we are still free agents and are in our rights to protect the wellbeing of any and all members of the initiative. If there were any suspicions of our effectiveness, you can bring them to Director Fury or to me with the appropriate ethical standings within your limitations. Not during a debriefing meeting in which we recap how a member of our team has saved a significant amount of lives. We don’t trade lives, Councilman. You’ll do well to remember your own place in your own sector.” 

“Is that a threat, Captain?” A council member prompted. 

“Yes, it is.” Steve immediately answered with an unapologetic tilt to his head. Nothing more could be spoken after the captain’s blunt honesty. The council members shifted angrily, the other Avengers in the room failed to hide their growing smirks. Even Fury couldn’t hold his slight smile.

“We appreciate your cooperation, Council. At this time, we will proceed with all debriefing processes and have them evaluated through AI.” With a wave, Fury dismissed the council members and the holograms disappeared.

Fury turned towards the three Avengers silently. Steve still held his belt resolutely, holding absolutely no regrets. The power in his stance was unwavering. Fury merely smirked, “Well said, Captain.”

Steve allowed a small smirk to form on his face and gave a dismissive nod, “Director.”

Fury nodded back and glanced at them. “Romanoff, I expect a full internal report.” Natasha echoed Steve’s sentiment, and the man’s image disappeared. 

Sam turned to Steve with a full grin, “Captain America saves the girl. Saves the day.” Steve allowed a full grin too at that, and Sam clapped him on the shoulder before leaving the room. He knew that this didn’t change the fact that the said ‘saved girl’ was downstairs recovering from a harrowing day. He understood that Steve still needed time to prepare himself for that visit. 

At Sam’s departure, Steve’s face fell into a grim expression once more. “How is she, really, Nat?”

Natasha sighed and granted a small smile, “She’s okay. She was tired. Confused. But she understood what had happened during the mission.”

Steve let out a small sigh, “What else does she remember?”

Natasha crossed her arms and ducked down to capture his conflicted gaze. “She doesn’t seem to recall specifics about the mission, as far as we know. She doesn’t know that it was you.”

At his exhale, Natasha knew that this was the answer that Steve needed to hear. Ellie didn’t know that it was Steve who pulled out the device. That it was him who ended her life. 

“Are you going to tell her?” she asked. Steve looked to the floor, “I don’t know. I’m not sure if it's best that she does know.”

Natasha let out a disbelieving scoff, “Steve, El asked for you when she woke up.” Steve looked up quickly with a yearning glance. His eyes softened at the image of Ellie asking for him, and the confusion of why he wasn’t there. 

“You underestimate her too often. Harlow knows the risks. We all do. I think it's about time that you respect her enough to do the same.” Natasha laid out. Steve looked to the side at that. He would never be comfortable with this option, ever. 

She continued, “The Council wasn’t wrong about her powers growing. The Phoenix is expanding in strength, and it isn’t going unnoticed by the team.” 

Steve interrupted, “So you think that she deserves to be pathologized? Clinically exposed to scientists drunk on power and greed of taking away her will to choose? To exist in the Raft?” His eyes now hardened, expecting to hear an affirmative response.

“What? No– ” Natasha visibly frowned and shook her head. She felt offended by the accusation. “Steve, I’m just…reading the terrain. We know how much you care about Ellie. We care about Ellie. That’s why we keep one hand on the steering wheel, and the other working to earn their trust back. You’re not the only one who wants to protect her. Each other.”

Steve heard her but still shook his head. “What I do know is that I’m not going to let anything else happen to her. We keep her close. While Stark and Banner reconfigure another way to help Red manage her powers, we do whatever it takes to protect her. Their eyes were always on her, and you know that. Now, agendas are shifting.” 

Natasha could only nod in agreement, “We’ll protect her, Steve. You’re not alone.” She did her best to convey the sincerity behind her words, and Steve heard it. An exhausted sigh was released as Natasha squeezed his arm affectionately.

Steve turned to leave, determined now to see Ellie. Before he could go, Natasha called out to him once more. “What about Barnes, Steve?” 

He stiffened at the door and stopped in place. After some silence, he turned to her and replied, “I don’t know. Rumlow could have been lying. Last time that I saw Bucky, he was pulling me out of the river. Sam’s leads are all cold.”

Natasha looked down and suggested, “At this point, we can assume to not know anything, that’s for sure. I can look into Sam’s leads again and see if there are any merits worth pursuing.”

Steve frowned, “I thought you didn’t want to pull on that thread.”

She smirked back at him and said, “You focus on our ptichka. She needs you right now more than us.” 

Steve smirked in response too and nodded a quiet thanks. Exiting the room, Steve put all thoughts of Bucky, the panic of hearing his name in that moment, and his own morbid feelings about the repulsors to the side. 

Red needed him.

*sestra= sister in the Russian language (I couldn’t find any sense of Sokovian language. I know it’s fictional but but if anyone knows how to find that fictional language lore, feel free to lmk)!

*ptichka= little bird in the Russian language

Next Part

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

Join My Tag List!

****if you wanna be notified on my work (and next updates)!

[me-myself-and-my-oboe]

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x original female character

Summary

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as Bucky Barnes settled into a cozy corner of his favorite café, The Daily Grind. Sunlight streamed through the large front windows, casting a warm glow on the rustic wooden tables and eclectic décor. Bucky absentmindedly stirred his latte, watching the delicate swirl of foam dance atop the surface, lost in thought. It had been too long since he’d felt like himself, and the weight of uncertainty lingered heavily on his shoulders.

Just then, the familiar sound of the café door swung open, and his friend Steve Rogers stepped inside, his presence brightening the room even more. Steve was a natural magnet, always drawing people in with his genuine smile and contagious energy. With a casual ease, he made his way over, his trademark smile infectious as he slid into the seat across from Bucky.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted, his blue eyes shining with warmth. “You look like you’ve seen better days.”

Bucky forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve felt like myself. Just trying to figure things out, you know?” He glanced around the café, watching the hustle and bustle of people chatting and laughing. “It’s weird being back in the city after everything.”

“I can only imagine,” Steve said, his expression shifting to one of concern. “Sometimes it’s hard to find your footing again. What have you been up to?”

Bucky sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Just working a lot, trying to keep busy. You know how it is. Same old routine. But I’ve been thinking… maybe I should try something new, something that doesn’t involve just sitting around.” He tapped his fingers on the table absently, then looked down at his left arm. He flexed his fingers, watching how they moved fluidly, but the metallic glint still felt foreign to him.

Steve noticed the look and gave Bucky a sympathetic nod. “You still getting used to it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted quietly, glancing away. “I know it’s technically ‘better,’ but sometimes… I don’t know, Steve. I feel like it’s all just off. Like I’m some puzzle piece that doesn’t fit anymore.”

Steve leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Have you thought about music again? It used to be a big part of your life.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. The thought of playing again brought up memories from years ago. He’d first picked up a trumpet in the army, mostly out of boredom, but it quickly became his escape. When he played, he didn’t have to think about anything else. Each note he hit became a small victory in a world where victories were few and far between.

“There’s this orchestra I’m a part of,” Steve continued, gently nudging him out of his thoughts. “It’s a small group, and we’re all just playing for fun. You’d fit right in.”

Bucky’s mouth twisted in a hesitant smile, though he couldn’t quite shake the anxiety that gripped him. “I haven’t picked up a trumpet in years, Steve. And now… with this,” he lifted his prosthetic arm, studying it as if seeing it for the first time, “I don’t even know if I can play like I used to. What if I mess it up?”

Steve reached across the table, his eyes full of understanding. “Buck, you’ve faced way bigger challenges than this. You have every reason to be unsure, but maybe trying it out will surprise you. And besides,” he grinned, “I’ve heard worse than a few off-notes.”

“Yeah, I remember that bass drum of yours,” Bucky replied with a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the moment. He could still see Steve in the army, beating on that drum with all his might, setting the rhythm for their little makeshift band. They were just a ragtag group of soldiers trying to forget the war for a few minutes at a time, and those moments of music had kept them sane.

“Come on,” Steve urged gently. “Those days back then… they kept us going. Music brought us a kind of peace. You should give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Bucky considered this, the doubts and fears simmering beneath his calm facade. Picking up the trumpet meant facing a part of himself he’d buried, and it also meant risking failure. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he missed the feeling of music flowing through him, how it had made him feel almost whole again, even in the darkest times.

Finally, he let out a sigh, nodding. “Alright. But if I’m terrible, I’m blaming you.”

Steve laughed, his smile wide and encouraging. “Deal. Just come to rehearsal tomorrow and give it a shot. And don’t worry—no one’s expecting you to be perfect.”

They talked a while longer, and with every word, Bucky felt a bit of the tension leaving his shoulders. By the time they left the café, he’d made up his mind. He would show up and play, prosthetic and all, and see what it felt like to let music back into his life. He couldn’t shake the nerves completely, but for the first time in a long time, he also felt a spark of excitement.

He didn’t know it yet, but this step would open a door to something unexpected—something that would change his life forever.

[cipher04]

Fandom Frenzy (Doubling friendly) Seeking Roleplay Partners

Note: Not replacing any current partners, just always seeking to add more partners.

About Me:

I am 18+ and will only write with partners who are also 18+

Willing to double!

Prefers writing dominant male characters in male x female relationships

Flexible writer, quality posts: post length varies depending on the plot, my partner, and the post, but my typical range is 1-5+ paragraphs

Reply schedule varies. Not able to post much during the week. Most posts likely during the weekend, but will do my best to reply as soon as I can. Will let you know of any extended or unusual absences.

Prefers third-person and inclusion of NSFW, open to dead dove as well

Willing to play canon characters and original characters

Open to OC/Canon and Canon/Canon. If doubling, I do enjoy it when our separate stories can connect (not required). I love playing out the sibling dynamic, so perhaps if we're doing OC/Canon doubling, our OCs could be siblings? Again, not a requirement, and to clarify, not looking for anything taboo - it would just be another way for our stories to connect

Prefers long-term stories

You can add me on discord at fandomfan#0404 or send a chat or message if interested.

Fandoms:

I am seeking partners who can play a female canon character from my list below. Extensive knowledge about the world and character is not necessary. I have no issue with you portraying these characters with your own unique interpretation.

Here is the link to the entire list of my fandoms: https://cipher04.tumblr.com/post/678212321698611200/muse-post

The 100: Clarke Griffin, Raven Reyes, Lexa

Arrowverse/DC: Kara Zor-El, Sarah Lance, Wonder Woman

Chicago PD: Hailey Upton

Divergent: Tris Prior

Euphoria: Cassie Howard

FBI: Nina Chase

Fear The Walking Dead: Alicia Clark

Game of Thrones: Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen

The Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Cassie Lang (2023 film), Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers, Kate Bishop, Karen Page, Daisy Johnson, Yelena Belova

The Lost World (1999 TV series): Veronica Layton

Nancy Drew: Nancy Drew

Outer Banks: Sarah Cameron

Riverdale: Betty Cooper

Saint X: Emily Thomas

The Society: Allie Pressman

Star Wars: Rey

The Walking Dead: Maggie Greene

If interested, you can react to my post or you can send me a chat. Thanks!

[raikkxz]

ᯓ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⑅ RULES .ᐟ.ᐟ

★ — requests﹕closed

★ — taglist﹕open

★ pinned post || ☆ taglist || ★ rules || ☆ main masterlist

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ how to request !! ꒱

if you'd like me to write for your favourite driver, requ est their name, trope, concept and anything else! ex : can i request a charles leclerc x reader, best friends to lovers, assistant!reader

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ what/who i write !! ꒱

⭑ f1 ⭑ hp ⭑ blurbs ⭑ headcanons ⭑ fluff ⭑ smut ⭑ boy x girl ⭑ age gap (not super big tho.) ⭑ social media au ⭑ person x female reader ⭑ kinks (not super kinky.)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ what i don't write !! ꒱

⭑ angst (maybe if im in an angsty mood, but otherwise, no) ⭑ anything that has any hate towards to ANY drivers. ⭑ driver/person x oc (i only write person x reader - unless it's a ship) ⭑ eating disorders ⭑ self-harm ⭑ mental/physical illness ⭑ incest

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ drivers i write for !! ꒱

⭑ charles leclerc 16 ⭑ carlos sainz 55 ⭑ lando norris 4 ⭑ oscar piastri 81 ⭑ max verstappen 33/1 ⭑ daniel riccardo 3 ⭑ lewis hamilton 44 ⭑ logan sargeant 2 ⭑ kimi raikkonen 7 ⭑ jenson button 22 ⭑ sebastian vettel 5 ⭑ fernando alonso 14 (these are the drivers i feel comfy with writing, i might do other drivers tho)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ other f1 related people i write for !! ꒱

⭑ toto wolff

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ pjo characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ luke castellan ⭑ percy jackson ⭑ annabeth chase ⭑ leo valdez ⭑ jason grace ⭑ clarrise la rue ⭑ will solace ⭑ frank zhang ⭑ hazel levesque ⭑ magnus chase ⭑ piper mclean (probably more but those are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ hp characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ mattheo riddle ⭑ theodore nott ⭑ lorenzo berkshire ⭑ tom riddle ⭑ harry potter ⭑ hermione granger ⭑ cedric diggory ⭑ luna lovegood ⭑ ginny weasley (probably more too but these also are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ mcu characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ peter parker (spiderman) | any film/actor ⭑ stephen strange (doctor strange) ⭑ tony stark (iron man) ⭑ steve rogers (captain america) ⭑ thor odinson ⭑ natasha romanoff (black widow) ⭑ wanda maximoff (the scarlet witch) ⭑ bucky barnes ⭑ loki ⭑ gamora ⭑ peter quill (star lord) ⭑ miles morales (more but are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ x-men characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ alex summers (havok) ⭑ scott summers (cyclops) ⭑ jean grey (dark phoenix) ⭑ james/logan howlett (wolverine) ⭑ charles xavier (professor x) | before x-men: apocalypse ⭑ erik lehnsherr (magneto) ⭑ raven (mystique) (more but are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ ships i write for !! ꒱

⭑ brocedes

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ multiple x reader i write for !! ꒱

⭑ tbc

even if my requests are closed, you can request for a second part and I might consider it. otherwise, requests are closed. if you have any questions, don't be shy to ask me! <3

if you break these rules, request for things i clearly stated that i wasn't comfortable with writing, "just write this, it's not that hard," hate towards any drivers, then you can leave.

please be patient when requesting. remember, I only write for fun, so it's not like a job. Which means that I won't be able to write every minute of every day.

please be specific when requesting. it'll help me get a better visual/thought of what you want me to write.

please understand that I can't write every single request. i'll lyk if i can't write this request or if i don't feel comfy with writing it.

@RAIKKXZ

do not repost/copy any of my works on apps or websites.

all rights and credits go to the original owner of any images from my blog. most images are either from pinterest, discord, or made by ME.

this may be updated often in case of any mistakes or forgotten info.

[americasass81]

!!WARNING:- 18+ ADULT CONTENT. BY CLICKING ANY TITLE BELOW YOU ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU ARE OVER 18 AND CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT INCLUDED.!!

YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY SO PLEASE READ ALL THE WARNINGS PROVIDED.

NO REPOSTING (rewriting, copying or translating on another platform claiming it’s your’s or saying I gave you my explicit permission. I didn’t). If you see my work anywhere other than my Tumblr please let me know.

################################

Beneath The Moonlight (dark Avengers)

Synopsis:- Leaving your comfort zone and joining your best friend at her boss’ party, you never thought the shattering of the multiverse would ever affect you in such an irreversible way.

Total Word Count:- 6,171

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Super Soldier Rescue (soft-ish Steve Rogers / soft-ish Bucky Barnes)

⭐Named Female Reader⭐

Synopsis:- What happens when two super soldiers decide to try their hand at rescuing a damsel?

Total Word Count:- 5,485

🎁Written as a gift for @navybrat817

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love’s Embrace (soft Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes)

Synopsis:- Finally restoring the world to the way it should be, can two super soldiers who’ve known nothing but war find the peace they’ve secretly longed for.

Total Word Count:- 2,580

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toys 'R' Us (dark!Steve Rogers / dark!Tony Stark / dark!Natasha Romanoff)

Synopsis:- Whomever told you Halloween parties were supposed to be fun never heard of those involving Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. What will happen when you accept an invitation to Tony Stark’s latest shindig?

Total Word Count:- 8,278

🎃Written for @jtargaryen18 Halloween Challenge 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Embracing The Darkness (dark-ish Avengers)

🔥Original Female Character🔥

Synopsis:- Accepting an invitation to Tony Stark’s annual Halloween party, what will you do when an unforeseen interference with your costumes causes far reaching consequences for you and all of humanity?

Total Word Count:- 9,565

🎃Written for @jtargaryen18 Halloween Challenge 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good Lovers Lie (soft Steve Rogers x Tony Stark)

Synopsis:- Finding Loki's scepter seemed like an unconventional way to bring Steve Rogers and Tony Stark together but now the consequences stemming from it may very well be the thing that tears them apart.

Total Word Count:- 4,351

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dark Manifestations (dark!Steve Rogers / dark!Iron-Man / dark!Stephen Strange)

⭐Named Female Reader⭐

Synopsis:- Overseeing a Stark Party should be the opportunity of a lifetime, but what happens to that life when a certain set of heroes gets ideas that don't quite mesh with how you see your future?

Total Word Count:- 3,753

🎂Written for @ironlady1993 as a Birthday gift🎂

[rebeltombraider]

Masterlist

18+ Blog, no minors please! (This is mostly due to posts I share and the older ages of characters. Also, I have never written smut before, though the want to is there... I am shy! Also, if I do eventually write smut, I'mma be real... Reader or OC will more than likely be Sub, because I myself am a Sub with honestly zero wits about me of how to Dom, so I'd probably do a Dom PoV a huge disservice lol)

Not open to Requests, but that might change as time goes on! This is mostly due to already having a lot of projects, but as things are posted, this may change!

Fluff: + Smut: * Angst: = Comfort: ^ Mildly Dark: x Majorly Dark: X

List will be updated as time goes on and stories are posted <3

Romantic Stories!

MCU

Wanda Maximoff/Original Nonbinary Character:

Currently Unnamed - Multi "Era" and Multi-Chapter Story Currently Being Written (Extra information - OC is mostly physically considered Female, except they are intersexed. Part of this is due to my own "gender blender" wish of an existence, aka I am living vicariously through the OC with this one, but not brave enough to write a Self-Insert lol) UPDATE: First section is almost complete! Will begin posting said section once I finish it up. It will be 7 chapters long and set in the year 2008!

x= / +^ / +x / +^ / X= / +^

(this looks like a horrifying math problem, I know, but it's mostly each story "era"... it'll be sorted better once I have the Era's posted but I want to avoid any big spoilers atm as this fic is going to be an absolute titan and I want to make sure I at least get the first "era" done before I start posting it

Wanda Maximoff/Reader:

Unnamed - To be written/posted

Unnamed Oneshot Series - To be written/posted

Natasha Romanoff/Original Character (FtM):

Shifting Views - Currently Being Written X= / x^+

Natasha Romanoff/Reader:

Sweet Hell - To be written/posted x= / +^ / (possible smut, will Poll after a smut one-shot)

Wanda Maximoff/Reader/Natasha Romanoff:

Gripped by the Plague (One-Shot) +^

Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanoff:

Waking Wanda - Currently Being Written X= / ^x / x+*

Unnamed Oneshot Series - Female!Reader is Wanda's Child - To be written/posted x=^ / ^+

Agatha Harkness/NamedMaximoff!Reader:

We're All a Little Mad Here - One Shot (Hints of a slightly Dark NamedMaximoff!Reader, pre-relationship, first two episodes Agatha All Along spoilers)

Pure Fluff Stories:

World of Warcraft

Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner

She's Your Daughter - (Named after Dark Ranger Areiel) Little Areiel's more amusing chaotic habits are from one of her parents... but which one?

Platonic Stories:

MCU

Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, and Venom!Reader:

Unnamed series of Oneshots - To be written/posted - =X / x^=