#S.H.I.E.L.D High

[ghostmistdraws]

characters that are autistic because I'm autistic and I say so

Tech - Star Wars: The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch

Hunter - Star Wars: The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch

Omega - Star Wars: The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch

Luz Noceda - The Owl House

Hunter - The Owl House

Leopold Fitz - Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Jemma Simmons - Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Peter Parker - Spiderman

Miles Morales - Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse

Tony Stark - Marvel Cinematic Universe

Madeline Hatter - Ever After High

Lizzie Hearts - Ever After High

Ghoulia Yelps - Monster High

to be continued! Add on if you have more :D

[evilhorse]

It’s about time you glory boys climbed down off yer high horses!

[reviiely]

Third instalment of my Philindaisy fic. Not completed, but going to be within the next month and a half.

[variouspolltournaments]

No Propaganda For Either

[sytoran]

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

[ramp-it-up]

Call Me Captain When I...

Summary: You were Steve's subordinate, but you'd met as friends. And Steve needs your help with something.

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of politics, flashbacks, groping while asleep, Not-so Inexpereinced-ish Steve, Dom Steve, Friends to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, pulling rank, uniform kink, talking in sleep, masturbation, sex toy, voyeurism, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, oral s ex (m receiving), raw p in v, intimations of female receiving oral.

A/N: This was supposed to be the conclusion to Greatest, but this popped in my head. This is set very soon after he first meets Sam and is still getting adjusted to the world. Also, I am not in the military and know nothing really of proper uniform or officer/subordinate address or etiquette. This is pure fantasy. Hope you like it. HBD Steve! 😁

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

-----

You woke up with a start, mouth dry, burning hot and seriously needing to pee. 

You weren’t sick; the cause of your discomfort was the 240 pound super soldier next to you. You looked over to see Steve Rogers’ sleeping face six inches away from yours on the chaise lounge of your sofa, the blue glow from your smart tv’s home screen bathing his face in eerie light. 

You allowed yourself two minutes to admire the man you had come to have a huge problematic crush on in such a short time.

You smiled to think of the first time you saw him in person as he wandered into the Information Technology Division of S.H.I.E.L.D., which you were running. 

------

He wasn’t in uniform, but who he was and his rank was unmistakable. Everyone rose when he entered. You watched him investigate the division by wandering around and looking at soldier’s workstation screens, reading files on desks, which was fine. The venerated Captain Steve Rogers had just about as high a clearance as anyone in the room.

You recognized the look on his face, a mixture of awe and earnestness, and something happened with your heart.

You couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to wake up, 70 years out of your own time. You watched his face, noting the anxiety, but mirroring his slight smile when he saw the book stacks at the rear of the room. Something like relief overtook his features. He scanned the room, calculating that the stacks went quite a way back into the facility, then he sized up the size of the troops in the division. 

You commanded 24 soldiers who helped you to oversee a good amount of basic historical, and quite a lot of classified information for SHIELD. You were too busy watching Steve’s face when his eyes found yours, and were caught off guard when he addressed you although you should not have been.

“Looks like you have quite the mission, Lieutenant.”

You snapped to attention and responded. 

“Yes, Sir. Information is key for the success of SHIELD, and we take pride in our work.”

“At ease.” 

Captain Rogers stood before you as you adjusted to parade rest. 

“I hear you do great work, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I need some help.”

“Sir?”

Steve huffed, annoyed at your formality. He looked around to see your entire division staring.

“Can we go into your office?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Once the door was closed, Steve had to address this first point, even though his body thrilled when you called him ‘Sir.’”

“You don’t need to be so formal, you know. You and I are friends, aren’t we?”

At the dulcet tone in his voice, you looked him in the eye, although you remained at parade rest. You knew that your troops were looking through your window. Steve noticed that your blinds were open and went to close them, which irritated you. That would only arouse suspicion.

Steve quickly admired your body in your work greens, eyes scanning from your boots up your pants, which were tailored very well out of necessity, to your shirt as he marveled how your buttons stayed closed. He chuckled as he had the same problem himself.

Your eyes were on him as his made their way to your face.

“You said you needed something, Captain?”

He almost groaned at that address. He needed you, spread out on his bed, calling him Captain and begging him to fuck you. But he had to play it cool. 

“I have this problem. And only you can help me with it.”

Steve had no idea how much that sounded like a line, so he barrelled ahead. He needed you, and he knew it from the moment he saw you at Sam’s house party the night before. The fact that you introduced yourself as a librarian endeared you to him, and the kind way that you talked to him all night about historical events of the 20th and 21st century cemented your place in his heart. He even adopted Sam’s nickname for you, Libby the librarian.

“I need a tutor.”

He’d piqued your interest.

“Sir?”

This time his groan was audible. That cute little head tilt was driving him crazy. And your braids up in that neat braid bun. You were wound tight at work.He wanted to have them down, waving along your ass and hypnotizing like they were last night. He wanted to wrap them around his hand as he….

You were going to be the death of him. He cleared his throat.

“I need someone to bring me up to speed. Someone who can help me understand this brave new world we have here.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes just scanned his face. He continued talking to fill the void.

“I mean, I wake up, and everything is different, society, technology, women, hell, even the president…”

“You never dreamed we’d have a black president, did you?”

You were toe to toe with him now, an equal in the field of knowledge, superior to him in history and culture. Steve liked this feeling. He really needed you.

“Honestly. No. I’ve missed the history that would lead me there. That’s why I need you.”

You bristled slightly, straightening your posture again and looking at the wall. Steve caught the vibe.

“This is not a command. I’m coming to you as a new friend that I thought we both gained last night. I want help. I’m asking you. Not as my subordinate, but as a friend. Please, Libby.”

Steve’s earnest plea melted you on the inside. You gave up trying to keep him at arm's length. You knew it was not appropriate what you did last night in your bedroom as you thought of the conversation with him last night. His voice, his eyes, those lips. And you did not overlook that body beneath his button up shirt and khakis. 

But he’d made it clear that you were friends and you would rock with that. Besides, you wanted to help America’s number one soldier see all sides of what he was fighting for. 

He needed to see the truth.

“Alright. One evening a week. Thursdays good for you?”

You walked around your desk and grabbed a post it note and started writing.

Steve was elated and nodded until you looked up at him and he responded verbally.

“Yes.”

He kind of liked you in control. It might be that much more pleasureable to subdue you. He shook his head, surprised at his own thoughts.

“Great.” 

You tore off a note and handed it to him.

“Order these books. Have one read, doesn’t matter which, by this Thursday and meet me at Pete’s Deli at 5:30.”

“Thank you.”

You smiled at him and Steve thought he was going to kneel at your feet.

“Don’t thank me yet until you’ve survived one of my very serious debates.”

“Sounds grueling.”

“You have no idea.”

—---

Over the last four months, you and Steve debated, argued, went through periods of needing space from each other, and late nights texting about tons of topics and cultural events during “the ice years,” as Steve called them. It was almost like a marriage.

You’d graduated from books, to Ted Talks, to movies, to videos on tons of topics and Steve was developing quite the knowledge base. 

You were proud of him, he digested information, reasoned it out, and didn’t become a carbon copy of you, but a well informed, better Steve Rogers. 

And fuck all, that made him even hotter.

Now, you were moving to the popular culture portion of your tutoring, and the night before you’d started the 1980’s/Spike Lee movie portion of your lessons. 

You’d binged She’s Gotta Have It, School Daze, and fell asleep halfway through Do The Right Thing. Now you were trapped between the arm of your couch and a 240 lb heat generator super strong super soldier.

You inched out from under Steve’s thick thigh, which was thrown over your legs, and was about to be able to escape when he turned over, his hand grabbing your boob and his fingers skillfully finding your thickened nub.

“Thank God for the right nipple. Thank God for the left nipple…”

You froze, but then remembered that was a line from the movie, and continued trying to escape without waking Steve up. He couldn’t be held responsible for his subconscious.

“Libby, wanna suck your nipples…please..”

You froze again. Well this was a development. Steve’s subconscious was trying to slide.

“Call me Captain when I suck your nipples. Sir when you suck me off…”

You managed to get up and you stood there, watching Steve, who was snoring now, and had no idea what he’d just said. You shook your head at the fact that he hadn’t learned the power of grey sweat pants.

In a daze, you walked to the bathroom and somehow ended up in the shower before you realized you had a guest. You were trying to process, and it was just a coincidence that your Leelo was in there. You’d be able to slake your hunger and clean up before he awoke.

Steve woke up, confused for a minute, and noticed that it was 4 am. 

He was on your couch with a Giant boner, and someone was in the shower. He stood up, stretched and went to your kitchen for a bottle of water when he heard you moan. 

Wanting to make sure that you were okay, Steve went to your slightly open bathroom door and got an earful.

“Ohhhh. Fuck, Captain, yessssss.”

Steve’s heart began to beat as he took a peek in at you through the clear glass of your shower, back against the wall as you held a sex toy to your pussy. The sight made him forget to breahe. The way you convulsed made his dick jump in his sweats. He rubbed himself to try and calm down, but your voice making those pretty sounds made him grab himself and chase friction against his clothes.

“Yes, Sir… would love to…suck… you…. offfff….fuck, Steve….!”

The sound of his name as you came made him feral and he hit his hand against the door frame. 

You stopped what you were doing as you looked toward the door. Steve used his best stealth tactics to go back to the couch, and that’s where he was when you came out of the bathroom in your robe.

“How much did you hear? Did you see anything?”

The way he was looking at you told you everything.

“I’m sorry, Steve. You were talking in your sleep, because of the movies. I got heated at what you said. Needed to relieve some tension. I understand if you want to stop meeting up. I’ve not been professional. Or a friend.”

“What did I say?”

“Hunh?”

Steve stood up and walked toward you. His voice was so deep. 

“What did I say when I was asleep?”

You gulped, but then you just said it.

“You said that you wanted to… suck my nipples and you said, ‘call me Captain when I suck your nipples. Sir when you suck me off…’”

Steve was closer now. 

“That wasn’t because of the movies.”

His hand was above you on the wall and you were staring up into his impossible blue eyes, which seemed to be shining in the dim light.

“It’s what I want to happen.”

“S-steve?”

Steve’s hand went to your hair, loosening the bun that you’d made for the shower.

“But I figured you only wanted to be friends, y’know?

“We are friends. That’s what you established when you came to my office…”

Steve fisted your braids in his hand and drew your head toward his. 

“I needed your help, true. But I was trying to get close to you without knowing how to make my move. Didn’t think you wanted me too, but what I just saw you doing in that bathroom. What I heard you saying, Libby…”

He stopped, his lips mere centimeters from yours.

“Christ, do you know how that ruined me?”

You whimpered in your throat and closed the distance between you.

If a supersoldier could slam someone against the wall gently, that is what Steve Rogers did to you as his lips and tongue explored yours. Your hands found his hair and tugged as he pulled yours, and your body pressed against his.

Steve pressed soft kisses all along your face. When he finally reached your lips, he teased you, barely touching them, causing you to whimper. He deepened the kiss, his tongue licking at yours, daring it to follow. Your mind was completely blown, and when you separated for air, Steve asked a question.

“So. Can you call me Captain when I suck your nipples? Sir when you suck me off?”

Your eyes met his and you made a silent agreement.

“Oh Yes, Sir.”

“Hmmmmmm.” 

Steve closed his eyes and groaned.

“Good girl. Correct answer.”

Steve kissed you again and this time his hands explored your body too. Your skin was moist and hot from the shower, and he ignited it even more. You writhed against him, brushing your nipples against his chest, causing them to swell and thicken. He groaned into your mouth, and it sent a pool of desire straight to your core. His hard cock pressed into your thigh insistently, and you reached into his sweats to wrap your hand around the rigid length of it.

“Jesus….” 

Steve’s ragged breath huffed into your face as his hand found your breasts and weighed them, rolling each of your nipples between his thumbs. You continued to stroke him, causing his hips to jerk up into your palm, beads of moisture helping to lubricate your hand as you stroked him as best you could, struggling to grip his girth. 

“Is this gonna fit in my mouth? In my pussy?”

Steve growled and kissed you again, his fingers parting your robe and dipping between your thighs. You shivered as first, one impossibly long thick finger slipped inside your slick heat, then two.

“We’ll make it work. You are so wet. So ready. And that mouth. If I can just experience you trying, I’d struggle not to blow my load, Libby. M’ struggling right now with just your hand.” 

“Let’s go to my bed.”

“Give me one now.”

“But-”

“What did I just say Lieutenant? Who is in command?”

Lust rocked your body at Steve pulling rank. You whimpered again.

“You are, Captain.”

“That’s right. Now stay here, and take this like the soldier you are.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve rewarded you with a kiss and then trailed more down your neck, moving south. He paused, his breath warming the skin over one of your swollen peaks. You were in agony.

“Captain, please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Please let me feel your lips.”

“As you wish.” 

You writhed as he kissed everywhere except where you wanted him. You tugged on his hair, which did nothing to dissuade him from his mission of driving you crazy. 

“I love that you are so desperate for me, Lib. So damn attractive.”

He hovered over your nipple as he teased it with the hot air from his mouth, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Captain!”

Steve added his thumb to the mix of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He kept the pace consistent, no matter how much you tried to move against his fingers. Chuckling, he finally settled his lips around your nipple and hallowed his cheeks as he drew you into his mouth, causing your pussy to shudder to gush over his fingers as you came.

“C-captain!”

“Yes, Doll?” 

“N-need you to fuck me. Please.” 

“Who’s in command?” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth. 

“You, Captain, I—” 

Steve withdrew his fingers from your cunt.

“Can you call me Sir first?”

You looked into his eyes and suddenly you wanted nothing more. You dropped to your knees in your living room, not caring how the hardwood felt on your knees. Relishing it, even.

Steve pushed your robe off your shoulders and it pooled around you as you watched him take off his t-shirt and pull down his sweats and boxers. You practically drooled at the sight of the thick tan staff in front of your face.

You watched Steve’s thick fingers grab the base of himself and squeeze and you looked up to see him clenching his jaw.

“You’ are trying to make me blow my load on your face with those eyes of yours, Lieutenant. Maybe I should ask you again. Who is in charge here?” 

“You Sir. Let me taste you, please?”

You were topping him with a request, but Steve let it slide as his cock slid past your lips and tongue.

“So fucking hot. Isn’t that what the kids say?”

Steve took your head in his hands as you put your hands behind your back and let him fuck your face. You hummed an acknowledgement as Steve groaned above you. Your pussy was sopping wet at this point.

Steve let go of your head and braced himself against the wall as he warned you through clenched teeth.

“Do you want this? Because… it….fuck… here it comes….”

You prepared yourself and swallowed quite a lot of Steve’s cum, which tasted surprisingly good. You moaned your approval as he gave you his spend.

He grasped himself again and pulled his still hard cock out of your mouth as you grinned up at him. 

“I could do that all day, Doll." He licked his lips as he looked down at you.

"Where is your bedroom again?”

You smiled and took his hand as he helped you to stand, and he followed you to your bedroom, nodding his head toward your California king.

“Get on the bed.”

Steve watched as you obeyed and stroked himself. Then, he kneeled beside you and ran his fingers along your body.

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this.”

You rolled under his touch, desire consuming you.

“Please…Steve”

Steve sighed, but secretly thrilled that his dream was coming true. You were begging him for it.

“I thought you knew what this was, who was in charge…”

He rolled your nipple and then pinched it when you said,

"You are, Sir!"

Steve rolled his big body over yours, supporting himself with his arms over your head. His cock nudged your wet slit, and he swore. 

“So damn good, Doll.” 

You moved your hips, trying for friction, or the goal, penetration, desperate now. 

“Please, Steve, don’t make me wait. I need you. I’m yours.”

Steve stilled, and looked into your eyes.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that…that you’re mine?” 

His tongue licked at your bottom lip before he kissed you. 

“I’m not letting you go.” 

His hips started moving, sliding his rigid member through your folds before testing your entrance. His eyes stuttered closed at the resistance there and at the way you slowly yielded open for him. Your eyes rolled back as he stretched you out like never before, fully sliding into you.

You both gasped as he bottomed out, and you gazed at each other, getting lost in the moment. You knew you would never be the same as you met Steve’s thrusts and he didn’t break eye contact as he stroked you to the most mind-numbing orgasm you’d ever had, embarrassingly quickly. 

Steve stroked lazily for a few minutes before he pulled out, turned you over and admired your back, tenderly kissing your shoulder blades.

“You are so beautiful. Everywhere.”

He lined up to your sopping wet pussy and slowly breached you again.

“What is the proper response, Lieutenant?”

“To what, Sir?”

Steve’s head dropped so that his hair brushed your neck and his tongue traced your spine, causing you to arch your back as he slid all of the way home.

“To the statement of fact that you are beautiful. Everywhere.”

His voice was a desperate groan, and so sexy.

“Oh,” you exclaimed, and kept your mouth open, searching for air because you almost forgot how to breathe.

Steve smacked your ass.

“That’s not correct.”

He was going hard now, and his voice was strained. He was close.

“Y-yes, Sirrrrrrr!”

You came again, pussy clutching Captain America’s cock. Steve became the most profane you’d ever heard him.

“Feels so fucking good, Doll. Love this ass, and this tight, wet, pussy. Fuckkkkk!”

Steve roared as you felt his hot ropes of cum spurt inside you, triggering yet another orgasm.

“Oh my goddd!”

You collapsed and Steve moved so that you were still connected, but on your sides.

“We’ve got to finish the movie. Need to find out what happens with Mookie…”

"Yes, Sir."

But Steve was falling asleep, and you looked over your shoulder at the super soldier who looked more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. You kissed his arm, which was wound around you, and which was holding you tight.

—--

The next Thursday, you were in your office when you heard a commotion. You looked out of your window as you saw Captain Rogers striding toward your office, this time in uniform, his hat under his arm. You closed your blinds and went to stand outside the door of your space as he moved nearer to you.

Damn. You should never have told Steve how much him being in uniform affected you.

“Captain Rogers, this is a surprise.”

You kept your eyes straight ahead as you stood at attention and he moved around you.

“I need your help again, Lieutenant. In your office. Now.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“At ease.”

You relaxed as Steve put his hat on your desk, advanced upon you, putting his hands on your waist as he kissed you silly while easily lifting you and placing you on your desk. He backed up to take a look at you as you crossed your legs.

“I’m here to inspect your uniform today, Lieutenant. From this view, it looks splendid.”

“Thank you, Sir.” 

You straightened your torso and pulled on your jacket, but you knew that he was speaking about the fact that you’d worn a skirt today, as he requested.

“I’m interested to see if you followed all instructions.”

Steve’s hands were on your thighs and he pulled them apart and got on his knees before you. He smiled and licked his lips as he saw that you were in fact, not wearing any underwear. He also could smell your arousal and opened his mouth to breathe it in. He was transfixed. You snapped him out of it when you asked him a question.

“You said you needed help, Sir?”

He looked up at your cocky grin.

“Yes, lieutenant. Need you to help me with a new term I came across today in my reading. Cunnilingus?”

“Y-yes, Sir. Of course Sir.”

It was all you could say as Captain Steve Rogers inspected your uniform from underneath your skirt.

------

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[thewidowsledger]

The Call

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Pairing: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: 18+, bad writing, some inaccurate details about S.H.I.E.L.D., slow burn, angst, violence, dark theme, details of torture and weapons, triggering some trauma, eventual smut

Author's Note: What boredom does to me: post my Tumblr drafts. I have so many series to keep up to, goodluck to me😵 

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: First Day

Chapter 2: 10 Things I Hate About You

Chapter 3: 7 Minutes in Heaven

Chapter 4: Keep Your Eyes On The Prize

Chapter 5: Rushman

Chapter 6: They Both Reached For The Gun

Chapter 7: Eyes On Me

Chapter 8: Shameless

[natsaffection]

I’m sorry if this is too much to ask

I recently went through a breakup with my girlfriend (recently as in last night) and I need some Natty fluff and comfort. For an idea reader and nat are bestfriends and have been through S.H.I.E.L.D for many years before Nat was promoted to an Avenger and reader was left behind as an agent.

Reader broke up with their relationship a day before Nat got home from a mission(clarification that nat n reader share apartments) injured and its just the two worrying about eachother to mindlessly cuddle and comfort eachother.

could add in soft sex for plot but ill let you decide the rest 😞✊

Held Together. | N.R

Warnings: friends brake up, injury

Word count: 2,3k

A/n: Hey you. I know this isn't going to help you much, and I definitely want to lend you my ear if you ever want to talk about things like this. I know how it feels, and I also know that saying it will get better doesn't exactly help. So please don't hesitate to write to me. 🩵

The first time you saw Natasha, you were both in the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility, hidden deep within the confines of a classified location. The facility was stark, all concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, with the faint scent of sweat and determination lingering in the air. You were new, just another recruit with a mysterious past, handpicked for reasons that weren't fully explained to you. But then again, secrecy was the foundation of S.H.I.E.L.D., and you had learned quickly that questions were often better left unasked.

Natasha stood out immediately. Not just because of her striking red hair, which seemed to catch the light even in the dullest corners of the room, but because of the aura of quiet confidence she exuded. She moved with a precision that spoke of years of experience, each step deliberate, each movement economical. It was clear that she was in a league of her own. But it wasn’t her skill that drew you to her, it was the look in her eyes. Beneath the stoic mask, there was a flicker of something familiar, something you recognized in yourself. The guarded pain of someone who had seen too much, too soon. The training sessions were brutal. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t coddle its recruits, and you were pushed to your limits, physically and mentally. But every time you faltered, Natasha was there, a silent presence at your side, pushing you to keep going. She wasn’t the type to offer comforting words or a reassuring pat on the back, but her actions spoke louder than any words could. She trained with you, sparred with you, and when you were both covered in bruises and gasping for breath, she would sit with you in the quiet moments, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

Over time, what began as mutual respect grew into something deeper. You found yourself seeking her out, not just in training but outside of it. Late nights in the common room, nursing cups of coffee and talking about everything and nothing at all. You learned that Natasha wasn’t just a hardened spy. She was fiercely intelligent, with a dry wit that could cut through any tension. She had a past that she kept close to the vest, but in those quiet moments, she would let slip little pieces of herself, and you would do the same. It was during one of those late-night conversations that you both discovered just how much you had in common. You shared a dark sense of humor, born from lives that had demanded you grow up too fast. You both knew what it was like to be used as a tool, to have your choices stripped away, and to fight tooth and nail to reclaim some semblance of control.

The turning point in your friendship came during a mission in Prague. You had been sent in as backup for Natasha, who was deep undercover, trying to extract a high-value target from an enemy compound. The mission had gone south, bad intel, compromised routes, everything that could go wrong did. Natasha was pinned down, outgunned and outnumbered, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, you thought you might lose her. But you didn’t hesitate. You stormed the compound, using every skill you had learned, every lesson drilled into you during those grueling training sessions. You fought your way to her, the two of you battling side by side, back to back, until you managed to extract the target and make your escape.

When you were safely back at the extraction point, covered in dust and blood, Natasha had turned to you, her eyes fierce with a mix of adrenaline and gratitude. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was all you needed. From that moment on, you were partners in every sense of the word. There was an unspoken understanding between you..a bond forged in the heat of battle, one that neither of you questioned. Over the years, that bond only grew stronger. You became the team that everyone wanted on their mission, the pair that could get the job done no matter the odds. You were the calm to her storm, the steady hand that balanced her fierce determination. And she was your anchor, the one person you knew you could rely on, no matter what.

But it wasn’t all about the missions. There were moments of light in the darkness inside jokes that no one else understood, late-night movies when you both should have been sleeping, and the kind of trust that only came from knowing someone inside and out. You knew her favorite coffee order, the songs she hummed when she thought no one was listening, and the way she always checked her weapons twice before a mission, even when she didn’t need to. And she knew you, knew the nightmares that woke you in the middle of the night, the reason you kept your distance from most people, and the way you always carried that one memento from your past, a small token of a life you barely remembered. She never pushed, never pried, but her presence was a constant reassurance, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this world.

Then came the day when everything shifted. Natasha was summoned to Nick office a meeting that would change the course of both your lives. When she emerged, she looked different, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, but there was something else too a distance, a sense of something slipping away. She told you about the Avengers, about the offer Fury had made. You could see the excitement in her eyes, the way her posture straightened as she spoke about it. And why wouldn’t she be excited? It was a chance to be part of something bigger, something that could change the world. You listened, nodded in all the right places, and when she asked what you thought, you plastered on a smile and told her how proud you were.

But inside, your heart ached. You knew that things would never be the same. You didn’t want to hold her back, didn’t want to be the reason she missed out on something extraordinary, but the thought of losing the connection you shared filled you with a dread you couldn’t shake. And slowly, that fear began to materialize.

As Natasha got more involved with the Avengers, the calls became less frequent, the visits even more so. You found yourself spending more time alone, throwing yourself into missions to drown out the loneliness. The once unbreakable bond you shared felt like it was fraying, the threads pulling apart one by one. The more you tried to reach out, the more distant she seemed, until one day, you realized that the Natasha you knew was almost a stranger to you now. She had new friends, new responsibilities, a new life. And where you once stood side by side, you were now watching from the sidelines, unsure of where you fit in her world anymore.

But the memories remained. Every time you walked past the training room, you could almost hear the echoes of your past conversations, the laughter that once filled the empty spaces. The ghost of what you had once had lingered, haunting you in the quiet moments. You didn’t know what the future held for you and Natasha, but one thing was certain: the bond you had shared was changing, evolving into something you couldn’t yet understand. And as much as it hurt, you knew that you had to find your place in this new reality, even if it meant doing it without her by your side.

The apartment felt too quiet, the silence oppressive as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the empty walls. Your things were mostly packed, boxes lining the hallway, and the last remnants of your life here waiting to be sealed up and carried away. You had made your decision the day before, the weight of it still sitting heavily in your chest.

You had ended it. Ended the friendship, the partnership, the life you had built with Natasha. The pain of watching her drift further away into her new life as an Avenger had become too much to bear. Every day had been a reminder of how much you were losing her, and it had finally reached a breaking point. You couldn’t stand being the one left behind anymore, always wondering when or if things would go back to the way they were. So, you had left a note on the kitchen table, explaining as best you could, trying to make her understand why you needed to leave, why you couldn’t keep living in the shadow of her new world. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it to her face, not after everything you’d been through together, so you had written the words, packed your things, and left the apartment.

But now, sitting in the empty space you once called home, the reality of what you’d done settled in, and it hurt more than you could have imagined. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to give up on what you had with Natasha, but you didn’t see any other way to protect your heart from breaking further. It was supposed to be simple. You would leave, and Natasha would come back to an empty apartment, read the note, and understand. She’d move on, and so would you. That was the plan.

Except plans never go the way you expect them to.

The sound of the front door creaking open jolted you from your thoughts. Your heart stopped as you heard footsteps heavy, uneven. Natasha was back. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be gone, far away, already beginning the process of moving on. But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not yet. You stood up, feeling your heart race as you heard Natasha’s familiar footsteps drawing closer. When she finally appeared in the doorway, your breath caught in your throat. She looked exhausted, her skin pale, and there was a grimace on her face that she couldn’t quite hide.

But what really terrified you was the blood on her jacket and the way she was cradling her side as if trying to hold herself together. “Natasha..” you whispered, the word barely audible as the shock of seeing her like this hit you. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, she just stared, as if trying to process that you were really there. “Y/n..?”

“You’re hurt.” you said, your voice trembling as you took a closer look. "It’s not as bad as it looks..” she replied, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but it faltered as she winced in pain. “Stop pretending.” you snapped, though your voice was laced more with worry than anger. “Why didn’t you go to the medbay?”

Natasha shook her head, letting out a strained sigh “I just..needed to come home.” she said softly, her eyes flickering around the room, taking in the packed boxes, the half-empty closet. “I thought you would be gone..?” The words hung in the air between you, heavy and filled with the tension of everything that had happened, everything that hadn’t been said.

“I was supposed to be..” you admitted. “Come here, let me help you with that.” She didn’t resist as you guided her to the bed, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she tried to stay composed. You carefully unzipped her jacket, wincing at the sight of the blood-soaked bandages underneath. It wasn’t the worst injury you’d seen her with, but it was bad enough to make your hands shake as you reached for the first aid kit. She winced as you peeled the blood-soaked fabric away, revealing a nasty gash along her side. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was deep enough to require stitches.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion as you began to clean the wound, trying to keep your hands steady. “I didn’t want you to worry..” Natasha replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess that plan didn’t work out too well.”

“Damn it, Natasha..” you muttered, blinking back tears as you worked. “You can’t just..you can’t just keep doing this. Keeping things from me. Pushing me away.”

“I wasn’t trying to push you away.” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I just..I didn’t know how to handle all of this. You, the Avengers, everything. I thought I could balance it all, but I was wrong.” You paused, your breath hitching as the weight of her words settled over you. “Nat-” you started, but she cut you off.

“I read your note.” she said, her eyes glistening as she looked down at you. “I know why you left, and I can’t blame you. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I forgot about the one person who’s always been there for me. And now I’m scared I’ve lost you.” Tears slipped down your cheeks as you finished dressing her wound, your hands lingering on her skin for a moment longer than necessary. “You haven’t lost me.” you whispered, your voice shaking. “But I can’t keep living like this, Natasha. It’s tearing me apart..”

She reached out, her hand trembling as she cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing away your tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I never wanted to hurt you.” You leaned into her touch, closing your eyes as the warmth of her hand seeped into your skin. “I know.” you whispered. “But things have to change. We can’t keep going like this.”

Natasha nodded, her own tears spilling over as she pulled you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she was afraid to let go. You buried your face in her shoulder, the scent of her familiar, comforting even through the layers of blood and sweat. You both held on to each other as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded, the only thing keeping you from falling apart. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled with the sound of your combined breaths, the rise and fall of your chests in sync, the steady beat of her heart against your ear. “I don’t want to lose you..” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

“You won’t.” she promised, her voice filled with quiet determination. “I won’t let you.” There was a moment of silence, thick with unspoken emotions, and then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly to hers. The kiss was tender, hesitant, as if you were both afraid to break the fragile connection between you. But the moment your lips met, it was like something inside you both clicked into place, the distance and the pain melting away, replaced by the familiar warmth of being with each other. Natasha kissed you back, her lips moving slowly, carefully, as if savoring the moment. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

“I’m sorry..” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Shh..” Natasha murmured, her hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” You nodded, unable to speak as you felt the tears slipping down your cheeks. Natasha gently wiped them away, her touch so soft it made your heart ache. You didn’t know what the future held for you both, but in this moment, with her arms around you and her lips still tingling from the kiss, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Carefully, you helped her lie down on the bed, her head resting on the pillow as you pulled the blanket over her. But before you could move away, Natasha caught your hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her exhaustion. “Stay with me.” she whispered, her eyes pleading. You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you crawled into bed beside her. Natasha immediately curled into you, her head resting on your chest, her arm draped over your waist. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, as if you were afraid she might slip away if you let go.

The two of you lay there in silence, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breathing and the steady beat of your hearts. The tension, the hurt, the fear..it all seemed to fade away as you held each other, the warmth of her body against yours a balm to the wounds that had been festering between you for so long. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, your fingers gently stroking her hair as she sighed contentedly against you. “I love you, Nat..” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I love you too.” she murmured, her voice filled with so much tenderness it made your heart ache. You tightened your hold on her, burying your face in her hair as you let the weight of the day finally slip away. For the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace, a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other. And as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

4: UNDERCOVER MISSION

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

The tension between you and Bucky builds during an undercover mission.

Word count: 4.2k

Warning: ongoing miscommunications, some dirty talk, Bucky Barnes being am awkward dumbass

The mission was simple, but you didn’t want to be the one taking part. It was an undercover op where you had to integrate yourself into a community of people who were high-ranking members of a terrorist organization. It was a challenge for the other Avengers to mask their infamy. So you and Bucky were the natural choice since Bucky was now unrecognizable from his appearance as the Winter Soldier. Also, times had progressed, and S.H.I.E.L.D. technology allowed him to disguise his vibranium arm with a hologram. The first time he had put it on, a look of sadness had crossed his handsome features. He had hidden it well from the scientists and engineers, but you could see it in his eyes, the hollow haunted glaze that made you long to throw your arms around his neck and hold him until he would smile and the small crinkles around his eyes would lengthen as this steel-blue orbs sparkled. But this wasn’t your place anymore.

"Jamie! Look how amazing you look!" Priya exclaimed. 

You rolled your eyes and scowled. Who had allowed her to attend the fitting in the first place? Glancing around, you couldn’t see anyone else who seemed to object to Priya’s presence. In fact, some of the men and women seemed to be more focussed on her appearance than they were interested in the success of Bucky’s holographic arm technology. 

"Yeah, it’s gotten better." Bucky flexed his bicep and opened and closed his fist, marveling at how realistic the skin looked. "Thanks," he nodded at the project lead.

"How does it feel, Jamie?"

 Bucky shrugged. "Can't feel anything."

"It looks so realistic! Will you wear it all the time?"

You were lost in tracing the contours of Bucky’s muscular back and shoulders when Priya’s words brought you back to reality. “He doesn't need to wear it all the time,” you snapped.

“No, of course not,” Priya replied calmly, as though you were one of her small patients throwing a temper tantrum. “But sometimes James doesn't like the attention his arm draws. It makes him uncomfortable. So it would be good to have an option for him to avoid people staring.”

She was right, it would be good for Bucky to be able to wear t-shirts without being stared at, or feeling ashamed or self conscious. You despised that Bucky had to hide who he was. He was a veteran and shouldn’t have to feel the need to hide the sacrifices he had made for his country. But his past as the Winter Soldier was well known, making him a target for drawing scrutiny. You gritted your teeth, trying to formulate a counter-argument but failing. It was excruciating watching Bucky put a loving arm around her, pulling her into his side. He used to do that to you, just never so publicly.

“Thanks, Doll. It’s good to have someone looking out for me.”

The urge to punch Bucky in the face was something you did your best to push away. “Yeah, you don’t really need me here.” You slipped off the table you were perched on and turned to walk away.

"Don’t you and Bucky have to pretend to be a couple?" Priya called after you. "For this mission?"

Her questions made you stop in your tracks. Had Bucky really shared the sensitive information regarding your mission with his girlfriend?

"Yeah?" you answered, cautiously.

“Shouldn’t you hang around and see how Bucky is in a relationship then?”

“Thanks Priya, but I don’t need instructions on how to act in a relationship.” Your tone was laced with the spite you felt.

"Cricket!" Bucky looked at you, angrily. 

You hated it. It hurt that he felt these emotions towards you. But you were desperate not to lose his friendship. In a way, you hated yourself for not having the courage to tell Bucky how you felt. And you knew that if you wanted to keep your friendship with him, you would be the one who needed to stay civil. It was harder that you’d originally thought. You were a good agent, you excelled at undercover work, but when it came to Bucky, you felt like you’d lost your mind. Your emotions were a rollercoaster ride and you often felt like you couldn’t hold back your screams any longer.

“I’m sorry, I-I-”

“It’s alright, Jamie.” Priya put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, that probably sounded really patronizing. I just want James… both of you to be safe.”

You nodded, a heat rising up your neck and reddening your cheeks. She knew. The pitying look on her face told you that she knew how you felt about Bucky. It was humiliating. This would have been the perfect time for the ground to open up and swallow you. But alas, of all the times you’d been surprised by the loss of integrity beneath your feet, this was the one time where the floor remained as sturdy as ever.

“Don’t worry, Cricket and I have been partners for a long time. We’ve got this. I’m sure she’ll take good care of me.” He turned to you and smiled softly. “She always does.”

You didn’t quite know how to interpret Bucky’s use of partners, he had always called you his friend. What had changed now? You returned his smile sadly. “I'll do my best.”

Bucky took the hologram off his arm and handed it back to its creator. “I'll come by tomorrow for this. Come on, Priya,” he put a hand on her back. “I'll take you home, I need to get an early night, we leave pretty early tomorrow.”

Priya smiled at him, “Sounds great, I can say goodbye properly there.”

With a heavy heart, you watched them leave before following at a distance where you wouldn’t have to hear their chatter. Bucky had never looked so animated before and jealousy burned inside you. So you decided to head back to your quarters where you could treat yourself to a comforting dinner and fall asleep to escape the pain and anxiety of what was to come.

*

Your alarm went off at 4.30am and you groaned, rolling out of bed. There was no time to lounge around, there was a mission to complete and you always set your alarm for the last minute. A quick bracing shower woke you sufficiently enough for you to dress in a light, comfortable travel outfit and grab some coffee in the kitchen at the end of your corridor. You finished making a coffee for yourself and were pouring the leftovers into a travel mug when a slightly disheveled Bucky made an appearance.

"Thanks," he grunted, taking the mug you offered him.

"I thought you were getting an early night?" you smirked at him.

"Always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?" he replied, sarcastically. 

"What happened? Goodbye took longer than expected?"

It was Bucky’s turn to smirk. "Actually, we ended up having to say it several times."

His words made your face fall and your eyes twitch dangerously. It was time to retreat from this conversation. "We should get going."

Bucky nodded, falling instep beside you silently. He had noticed the change in your tone.

"Cricket?"

"Is everything okay between us?"

"Yeah! Why do you ask?" Your face remained impassive, but your soul was screaming with fear.

"Things have changed so much. I guess… I was just checking."

"You don’t think we can do this?" you asked, trying to deflect from the real issue at hand. But your question held more depth than you cared to admit.

"It just feels like we’re not as … in sync as we used to be."

"And why do you think that is, Bucky?"

Bucky stopped walking. "Ever since I introduced you to Priya, you’ve built this wall between us. I don’t understand what your problem is, Cricket. She’s been nothing but nice to you."

You took a deep breath, knowing you needed to choose your words very carefully or the truth would come spilling out and the embarrassment would be unbearable. "I don’t have a problem with Priya."

"Then what is it? What is your problem?"

You tried to think of an answer, but the only words that your brain screamed at you were "I LOVE YOU!"

"I don’t know," you whimpered. You bit down on your lower lip to stop it trembling, but nothing could stop the tears building up in your eyes. You dropped your head to hide your face but not soon enough for Bucky to catch sight of the water fall from your eyes.

Bucky wrapped his arm around you, sweeping you into a much needed hug. He smelled like home. You missed his warmth, the closeness you’d had. Bucky’s sturdiness made you want to melt into him, to break down, to confess your feelings to him. But the vibration of your phone brought you back to your sad lonely reality.

"Hello?" you answered the device.

Bucky wiped a stray tear from your face with his thumb as he listened to Steve’s voice asking where you were.

"We’re coming, Steve." Bucky raised his voice so Steve would be able to hear him through the phone in your hand, before reaching over and hanging up the phone. "You gonna be okay?"

You nodded, sadly.

"I'm worried about you, you know that, right?"

"I'll be fine, Bucky. I won't fuck this up."

"Not the mission. Fuck the mission. I'm worried about you."

"I'll be fine, Buck. But thank you… for caring."

The two of you reached the hangar bay where Steve was waiting impatiently with your mission packs. He handed them to you wordlessly, analyzing your faces for signs of concern. You avoided eye contact with him, hoping he wouldn't notice your slightly reddened eyes.

"This one's important. We all need this to work."

"We got this, Cap!" You saluted him with a grin plastered across your face.

Steve rolled his eyes at you and even Bucky couldn't help but smile as you led the way to the quinjet. Bucky was going to fly the two of you to a southern Italian resort where the conference was taking place. The conference was a cover for major arms dealers and Bucky would be posing as a representative to a S.H.I.E.L.D. fabricated 'bad guy��� named Zandor.

Bucky’s cover was James Road, Zandor’s right hand man and you were playing Sabrina Road, James's wife. You had been told to expect a high end affair at a deluxe resort where the various representatives would schmooze with each other, gathering intelligence and allies. You weren't worried about your safety, not with Bucky at your side, but you didn't want your cover blown or to fail to get what you needed.

Bucky had once told you that he had never felt like a ‘James’, Bucky was the only name he had really known. It always made you wonder why he never asked Priya to call him ‘Bucky’. You wondered how he would react to you calling him James for the next few days. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" Bucky interrupted your musings.

"Hmm?" You turned to face him, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many intrusive questions. For some reason, tears seemed too close to the surface for your liking these days.

Bucky set the quinjet’s controls to autopilot and swiveled his chair to face you. "Steve gave me something before we left. One of them is for you."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside it were a beautiful pair of matching wedding rings, made of a shiny rose gold. Bucky slipped one onto his finger and held his hand out, palm facing up. But the other ring wasn’t what he was offering. He was holding out his hand for you to take, so he could place the ring on your finger. What you wouldn’t give for that moment to be real!

"Here, hand it over." You snatched the ring unceremoniously out of the velvet box, your heart pounding. The metal was cool against your skin, and you marveled at the delicate craftsmanship. The rose gold glimmered in the soft light of the quinjet’s cabin, casting a warm glow.

Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the ring back from you. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment, the world outside the quinjet ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, suspended in this charged atmosphere.

He held your hand gently, turning it so your palm faced down. The ring slid onto your finger smoothly, a perfect fit. He wanted nothing more than to hold on to you forever, lost in the comfort of your touch and your eyes.  You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. His cerulean eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and determination. It was as if he was silently saying, this is real, even if it’s just for this mission.

"James," you whispered, testing out the name. It felt strange on your tongue, yet oddly right. He didn’t flinch or correct you. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sabrina," he murmured, his lips brushing your knuckles. The intimacy of the moment stole your breath away. You wondered if he could hear your heart racing.

The quinjet hummed around you, cocooning you both in its metal embrace. Outside, the world continued to spin, but here, in this stolen instant, time stood still. You wanted to believe that this wasn’t just part of the mission—that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between you and Bucky.

But reality crashed back in. The mission, the danger, the arms dealers—they all loomed ahead. You couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "For this."

Bucky’s smile was bittersweet. "We’ll get through this, Cricket. Just like we always do."

And with that promise hanging in the air, you both returned to your roles—the undercover couple, James and Sabrina Road. But as the quinjet soared toward Italy, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission held more than just secrets and lies. Perhaps, hidden beneath it all, there was a chance for something real.

The rings on your fingers seemed to whisper their own silent vows, binding you together in this dangerous dance. And for now, that was enough. 

*

Bucky landed the quinjet in a small isolated airspace that had been predetermined to be safe by S.H.I.E.L.D.. Nat had scouted the area a few days previously and ensured an SUV was waiting for you. Both of you changed into casual holiday clothing.

Bucky’s transformation was nothing short of remarkable. The once stoic and battle-worn soldier now stood before you, bathed in sunlight, a vision of rugged charm. His light blue shirt clung to his broad chest, the top buttons undone, revealing a tantalizing hint of skin and chest hair. Beige slacks hung low on his hips, tailored to perfection. The aviators perched on his nose lent an air of mystery, shielding eyes that had seen too much. He was beautiful.

And then there was you. In a pink floral print summer dress, you were a burst of color against the backdrop of wilderness. The fabric swirled around your legs as you turned, catching the sunlight like a thousand petals. Bucky’s jaw dropped, mirroring your own reaction. His gaze traced the delicate curve of your collarbone, the soft slope of your shoulders. The air crackled with unspoken tension of the last few weeks.

The change in location seemed to have freed you from the burden of your emotions. There was a thrill of anticipation that bubbled inside you. Was it excitement or anxiety? You never could be certain, but you felt it at the start of every mission. It was you and Bucky against the world and there was no one else you'd trust more with your life. Steve and Nat had brainstormed a few ideas for James and Sabrina’s relationship but they left the details down to the two of you. They had decided that the couple you were playing would be newly weds, as Nat always said, people were uncomfortable with public displays of affection. They had even gone as far as securing the honeymoon suite for your stay. 

As the bellhop ushered you and Bucky into the honeymoon suite, the room unfolded before your eyes, a symphony of silk, candlelight, and rose petals. The air hung heavy with anticipation, like a secret whispered in the dark. The bed, a grand centerpiece, stretched out like an invitation, an intimate promise.

Yet, despite the plush surroundings and the illusion of newlywed bliss, unease settled in your chest. You stole a glance at Bucky, his features were etched in sunlight and his eyes, usually steely and guarded, now held a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in a long time. Perhaps it was the flickering glints of light between the net curtains or the soft strains of music playing in the background, but this charade felt more real than you’d anticipated.

The bed loomed large, its expanse inviting yet treacherous. It was a stage, and you were the actors, playing roles scripted by someone else. You remembered the nights when Bucky’s warmth had chased away your nightmares, the way his fingers traced constellations on your skin. But this bed wasn’t meant for whispered confessions or stolen kisses, it was but a prop, a cruel reminder of what you couldn’t have.

You glanced at Bucky again, wondering if he felt the same dissonance. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze lingered on the bed. Did he remember the nights in safe houses, huddled together for warmth? Or was this just another mission, another mask to wear?

"I guess this is a bit of a waste, huh?" Bucky commented, dismissing the tension.

You forced a laugh. "Let's get this over with."

Bucky followed you out of the suite, his awareness heightened by the people milling around. As you were about to mention their presence to him, his arm slid around your shoulder. You smiled up at him, perhaps the bond between you hadn’t completely faded. In the lobby, a lounge area beckoned, its bar opening onto a sunlit terrace and pool.

"What do you think, James? Too early for a drink?" you asked.

"It’s always happy hour somewhere, baby," Bucky replied with a charming smirk.

He ordered drinks for both of you, and you settled near Nadal, your target, who was downing mimosas as if his life depended on them. He was an older Latino man who was not only handsome, but impeccably groomed. He was dressed in casual clothing, but his attire radiated power nevertheless. Bucky placed your drink in front of you, sitting close, his arm around your waist.

"Time to put on a show?" Bucky inquired.

You smirked, sliding onto his lap. "Jameeeeeeees," you whined loudly. "I thought we were on holiday. Is this why you didn’t want to take me to Hawaii? You’re always working. What about me? I have needs too, you know!"

It worked—Nadal’s attention was now squarely on you.

Bucky chuckled, locking eyes with the target. "Women!"

"Can’t live with ‘em," Nadal drawled.

"Can't fuck anything else."

You stiffened with surprise with Bucky's language. You noticed he was more reserved about using foul language, you had always chalked it up to being Steve’s influence. Now that Bucky had Nadal’s attention, they chatted amicably and you took the opportunity to make the most of your surroundings; identifying security cameras, bodyguards and escape routes. You hadn’t noticed how much you had been squirming around on Bucky’s lap, because his grip on your thighs suddenly became very tight, holding you still.

His action didn’t go unnoticed by Nadal. "Save the action for the bedroom, kids!"

Bucky slapped your ass, salaciously and you gasped. You hadn’t expected it, neither had you expected the rush of desire between your legs. "James," you whined. It was clear that your role on this mission was mostly to cast suspicion away from your partner, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t play your part well. "You promised me you wouldn’t do that in public. You know what it does to me," you pouted.

"Better not let the little lady down, Road." Nadal winked, rising from his seat. "What room are you two in?"

"Managed to bag the honeymoon suite, for this one."

"Ahh, so it’s you I lost out to?" he chuckled. "Well my husband and I will be next door. Try and keep it down, your wife seems like a screamer." With that Nadal left you and Bucky alone in the bar feeling uncomfortable in more ways than one.

"Guess we’ll have to give them a show tonight," you grumbled, dropping out of Bucky’s lap.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, but from the way he was gazing off into the distance, you weren’t totally sure he was listening.

"What is it?"

"The competition."

"Great," you mumbled. "Guess we gotta get access to the intel before they do."

"What do you think our chances are if we play it by the book?" 

"Slim, they look like they mean business. And they probably have the funds to challenge our bid."

"Should we go back to the room? Nadal is probably expecting some… noise." Bucky looked uncomfortable as he spoke.

"And we’ll be better equipped to know if they leave their room."

It didn’t take long for the two of you to saunter back to the suite, Bucky’s hands were all over you and you couldn’t help but wish that it was voluntary rather than duty. You kept up a shrill giggle to make people around you look away. Once in the room, neither of you seemed to know how to proceed. Bucky had never been forthcoming with his feelings at the best of times, often switching them off when it came to work.

"So, umm… so what now?" you asked.

"He’s probably in there right now." Bucky put his ear to the wall as you waited silently for his assessment. "Someone's moving around, don't hear any talking."

"Set up a camera so we know when they leave?" You pulled a small device out of your bag, tossing it to Bucky. "There was a plant on the table outside."

Bucky didn't need to be told twice, he was out the door and back in under 30 seconds.

"Wait!" You whispered urgently. "Slam it shut."

Bucky complied with your request, with a confused frown. His eyes went from narrowed to goggle-like as you moaned loudly.

"Ohhhh James!"

Bucky gave you a horrified look before mouthing at you across the room. "What’re you doing?"

"James, I want you!" You delivered your line with as much lust as you could muster. Smirking at him, you dropped your voice. "Giving them the show they're after."

"Oh God, you make me so wet. I love when you push me up against the wall."

You motioned wildly at Bucky, who rolled his eyes and threw himself against the wall of the neighboring room for effect.

"I've been waiting for this all day. I want you so bad. Here, feel!"

Bucky closed his eyes, a deep flush darkening his face as you looked at him expectantly.

"God, you're so wet, baby." Bucky's voice was husky. And for a moment you wondered how he sounded in bed.

Focus! You told yourself.

"Only for you, baby. I can't get enough of you touching me. I want your fingers inside me." You continued, pressing your face against the wall.  "I can't wait until I get to rip these pants off of you."

"What do you want me to do to you?" Bucky eventually found words to contribute, having turned away from you.

You loudly moaned a few more times for effect. "Come on Mr Road, my badass arms dealer husband, you can do better than that!" you goaded him in a whisper.

"Are you serious?" he muttered.

"Tell me how much you want me," you cried.

Bucky thought for a moment, before choking out. "I want you so much, baby. I want to feel myself inside you and I want to fuck you so hard. Now get on the bed." Not once as he spoke did he make direct eye contact with you. 

Was it wrong that his words had your cunt clenching uncontrollably? You fanned your face before you noticed Bucky pointing at the bed. Oh right! You flung yourself on the luxurious mattress, making sure that it rocked against the wall. "Please James, I want you inside me." Your voice was suddenly breathless.

Bucky sat down on the other side of the bed, tugging at the crotch in his pants. They seemed to be tighter than they were before. He used his legs to rock the bed.

"Fuck me, James, fuck me harder." You crawled up to the headboard rattling it enthusiastically. "Whatever you do, don't stop."

Bucky moaned. It was a good thing he was facing away from you, he thought as he pressed his palm over his growing erection.

"That feels so good, B-James. Oh my god, I'm gonna come." You squeezed your legs together, trying to control the throbbing between your legs. Bucky’s name had almost slipped past your lips, and you hoped he hadn't noticed.

"I'm going to make you come so hard." 

"JAMES! OH YES!" you screamed.

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[gunsandspaceships]

Tony’s Childhood. Part 1: Identifying facts

In the MCU, Tony sometimes acts like a kid. There is a reason behind every behavior, so I wondered what it was like for him when he was a real kid.

So, the questions of the day: what do we know about Tony's childhood? Did he have one? And, most importantly, how did it affect him?

Let’s first list what we know from the movies:

At age 4 Tony built his first circuit board (IM1)

At age 6 built his first engine (IM1)

Was sent to a boarding school by Howard (IM2)

Cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare (AoU)

Had a nanny until the age of 14 (IM3)

Went to college at 14 (IM1)

Built Dum-E and U when he was there (IM1)

At 17 graduated summa cum laude from MIT (IM1)

Continued his education until his parents’ death (CW)

Tony’s genius gave him two things: the brain and the pain. And by the pain, I mean that instead of interacting and bonding with his parents, enjoying life, playing, having fun, making friends, taking care of pets, and all the other things children do to gradually prepare for adulthood and grow up "healthy", he got this list of achievements. That doesn’t make a person normal.

Parents

We know his relationship with Howard was complicated. Howard loved him in his own way. He had too many things to do to be a good father: SI, S.H.I.E.L.D., scientific projects, trying to build a better future with clean energy, etc. All good, except when you want your child to love you back. Especially if in the tiny amount of time you spend with him, you don’t show him any signs of affection.

What do we know about Maria? Her name, what she looked like, that she played the piano, and died at Winter Soldier’s hand on Dec 16, 1991. That’s it. She didn’t spend much time with Tony either. Remember, he even had a nanny, instead of a mother. Tony's words about her showed that he loved her, but he didn't talk much about her. Because she wasn’t present in his life enough. Why? Because…

School

Howard sent Tony to a boarding school.

Here’s in the S.H.I.E.L.D.s file we have this information about the school:

“Phillips Academy, Andover, MA 1977-1984”

This means he was there from age 7 to 14. Howard sent him to a boarding school when he was SEVEN.

Phillips Academy Andover serves grades 9-12 only (it is a college preparatory school). Thus, either this is a mistake by the creators of the film/file, or Tony, due to his genius, became an exception. Since the early age he was already at school was also mentioned in IM2 tie-in comics, and in Earth-616 that was also 7, we can mark 1977-1984 as valid.

Think about it again: Tony was sent to boarding school in another state when he was 7 years old. He spent another 7 years there, alone, among high school-aged teenagers. No parents around, no peers.

For example, even Hogwarts accepts 11-year-old children, and they live with their peers. Now imagine Harry Potter, at the age of 7, is thrown into a dorm with 7th-year students and locked there. Doesn’t make a person normal either, does it?

Nannies and Jarvis

Since Tony was at the boarding school, there are two options for how he could have a nanny (mentioned in IM3) and spend time with Edwin Jarvis:

1) He was at the boarding school with a nanny. There is almost no possibility that the nanny was Edwin Jarvis because Jarvis was Howard’s butler and had other responsibilities.

2) He had a nanny at home in the summer and during short school breaks. In this case, his parents couldn’t even give him this little of their precious time.

In any case, he could only see Jarvis at home, a few months a year at most.

Note: There is a date error in IM3, stating Tony was 14 in 1983. This is clearly an error and we can omit this detail.

Bullying

Remember this dialog between Tony and Harley in IM3?

0:45:15 – Harley asks him how he knew he was being bullied at school. Tony doesn't answer. He gives him a non-lethal flash thing to "discourage bullying."

We see that Tony knew exactly what was going on with Harley at school. Because that’s exactly what happened to him there. Harley reminded him of himself. Brilliant kid with no friends and practically no parents. He was bullied by 9th-12th graders.

If he had a nanny with him at the school, that probably made things even worse. He would be bullied because he has a nanny, and despite he has one to look after him.

In Part 2 we will discuss how all this affected him. Stay tuned.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Tricks, Treats, and Tribulations

Summary: Of course you were going to dress up for Tony’s Halloween party; but if you knew what your choices were going to provoke… maybe you would've picked a different costume. With Natasha by your side, who could've expected were would land by the end of the night. Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader WC: 4,932 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, mentions of death, medical related stuff, hallucinations, proof read when I was tired lol A/N: Happy october! This fic features a certain stone that I rewrote some stuff about. I guess this would be an au if the stone was in a different form! Enjoy <3

The cheesy halloween music filled your ears, speakers lining each room—there was no escaping it even if you tried. You didn’t mind though, a few drinks in and you were having a great time. The annual halloween party at Stark Tower always provided a good time, and you were always happy to dress up for the occasion.

This year, you wore a witch costume complete with a blouse, flowy overcoat, and of course your mom’s heirloom ruby necklace. You definitely looked the part—at least enough to appease Tony at the front door. He was always strict about people entering in full costume, yet he himself never really dressed up. Maybe he assumed being Iron Man was his costume, but you weren’t going to pry through his ego to find out.

You’d been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few years now, your main station as an agent usually landed you beside the Avengers. The team knew you well, which is why you often attended Tony’s work parties. Although they were sometimes flashy events filled with high ranks, you still enjoyed hanging out with your co-workers. At S.H.I.E.L.D., you felt you belonged. And more importantly, you felt you clicked with a certain redhead that was often beside you during missions.

“Here’s that refill,” Natasha appeared from the crowd with two drinks in hand, the bubbling red liquid perfect for the Halloween theme. You accepted one gratefully, ditching your empty glass on a nearby tray. “I love that necklace.” She commented, looking toward the sparkling ruby on your neck.

You smiled. “Thanks, my mom gave it to me. She got it from her mom, too.” Natasha smiled in return, a hint of something somber behind her eyes. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but you knew. She didn’t have a family that could pass down relics like this.

Overtime, you had gotten to know the Widow on various stakeout missions. There was a lot to learn about her, especially since she was often guarded—getting any piece of knowledge about her past was like a little clue in a large treasure hunt. But hours, even days, spent waiting for an enemy to show up left you two with not much else to do but talk.

“I like your costume.” You broke the silence, noticing her outfit for tonight. She sported a deep red dress, her red hair topped with small devil horns. It was fitting, considering her personality. And damn, that dress looked good on her.

“Thanks,” Her smile turned warm as she sipped on the red bubbles. “I’d hate to disappoint Tony.”

You chuckled softly. “He didn’t even dress up, like always. I wouldn’t say it to his face—but that’s a major cop out.” Natasha couldn’t help but laugh, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. You always appreciated each moment you and Natasha spent together, especially when you had the chance to make her laugh. She was a serious person, so breaking through to that softer personality on the inside was a treat.

Suddenly, after a few sips of the red drink amidst your fun with the redhead, a wave of nausea washed over you. You tried to swallow it, but Natasha could easily sense something was wrong. She knew your usual hardened exterior well, and wasn’t scared to speak up. “Hey, you alright?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I think I had too much to drink, I’ll be right back.” You handed her your glass without giving her a chance to respond, immediately rushing off to the bathroom. You only had three drinks… usually they didn’t have this strong of an effect so soon. You felt a sense of embarrassment, letting Natasha see you like this. It was weak to let the alcohol get to a tough agent like yourself.

Regardless, your reality left you crouching over in a bathroom stall. The tower’s bathrooms were nice, luckily—yet this wasn’t how you imagined spending halloween. You hadn’t gotten drunk in a long time, but for some reason you didn’t feel very inebriated. You groaned, sitting against the cool-tiled wall as a headache began to pound in your head.

The sound of heels clacking up the tile forced you to take another deep breath. You already recognized who it was just by the calculated sound of her walk. Deep down, you knew she wouldn’t leave you to wallow alone. Even outside of missions, you two were a team—and Natasha valued that more than you realized at the time. “You in here?” Her voice echoed.

“Yeah,” Your voice was weak and raspy, and the last thing you wanted was to ruin someone else’s halloween. “I’m fine, though. Go enjoy the party.” You tried to convince her, but she’d already made up her mind. Three knocks landed on the stall door, her heels waiting in the gap below.

“Let me in.” It wasn’t a question, so you reached over to unlock the door. She took in your figure, now slightly less green than earlier. But your scrunched up features queued her into the pounding in your head. “Let’s get you to bed.” Once again, she wasn’t asking. Your night was short lived; clearly you didn’t party responsibly. You could’ve sworn you only had three drinks… but the present was telling a much different story. 

“Natasha,” She tried to help you up, but you brushed her off. There was no way you were getting babied. “Thank you, but I can get to bed by myself. I don’t even feel tipsy.” She holds her hands up in surrender, letting you walk off on your own. But the second you hit the hallway, your world shifted on its axis. The feeling of all your blood rushing to your head made the floor meet your body as you collapsed onto the hardwood.

“Famous last words…” Natasha muttered, assuming you were blackout drunk at this point. But as she ran over to check your unmoving state, she realized something much worse was going on. As she flipped your body, your skin was pale and lifeless. Her fingers found the pulse point on your neck, her own breathing becoming labored as she felt the absence of a heartbeat—you weren’t breathing.

—————

“Tony!” Her voice was muffled under the chatter of the crowd, but the urgency lacing her voice turned heads on its own. What caught the most attention was you, laying in her arms unconscious. The billionaire was chatting up a few higher ranks, his large gestured hand movements making it obvious he was inebriated. With both of her own hands taken, Natasha kicked him in the back of the knee.

“Shit! Hey—what was that for?” Tony whipped around, a fake hurt expression on his face. His eyes were quickly drawn to the pale figure lying in her arms; that nearly sobered him up on the spot. “Is she…?”

“No! She’s not dead,” Natasha huffed. “But she will be if you don’t hurry up and help me figure out what’s wrong.” Tony quickly excused himself from the group, following Natasha down the corridor to the secluded med bay. She felt the fear nearly strangle her, but the Widow wasn’t going to let the pressure of the situation prevent her from being of use—not when your life was at risk. She was a superhero, afterall, and superheroes don’t back down in times of fear.

As the pair finally arrived at the technology-filled room, the quiet atmosphere aided Natasha in a deep breath. The air was cooler, finally free of the crowd overwhelming the gallery upstairs. The redhead laid you down on the bed, allowing Tony to tap a few buttons on his tablet. In an instant, your vitals were being taken—and they didn’t look good.

Your appearance reflected that; skin so pale it looked cold to the touch, veins pronounced, and lips colorless. If only your life weren’t jeopardized, you looked the part for a spooky halloween costume.

“I thought she was drunk. She got sick in the bathroom, and then collapsed. I’ve never seen her look so…lifeless…” Natasha explained as she watched over you like a shadow, worry filling her expression. She wasn’t often so expressive, but for some reason the facade she usually held was slipping.

You stirred, eyes flicking back and forth under closed lids. Light hums escaped your lips as you felt your senses come to. “Natasha—I…” You tried to tell her that it felt like a weight was crushing you, your chest felt so heavy you were sure your lungs collapsed.

“What is it, love?” The word just slipped out of her mouth, so naturally she didn’t even notice. You were too groggy to notice either, but Tony did. He shot Natasha a questioning look—but ultimately knew it wasn’t the time.

You opened your eyes, finding gleaming green ones hovering over you full of concern. “It hurts.” You whined, hoping the Widow would somehow understand. She exchanged a glance with Tony.

“Where does it hurt? Show me,” Natasha held your hand gently, allowing you to move in tandem to the spot where pain was building. Slowly, you guided her hand up to your chest. Natasha completely ignored the movement, she was only worried about what was happening to you. Suddenly, your movements stopped—directly on top of the sparkling red ruby necklace. Her brows furrowed, and something in her gut just didn’t feel right. “Where did you get this necklace again?”

You thought for a moment, letting your eyes close under the bright overhead light. “My mom, who got it from her mom, who got it from hers… I can’t remember how many greats’ it was from.” Your voice was soft, groans interrupting your words occasionally as the aching continued.

Natasha exchanged another glance with Tony, but this time it was more knowing. “What are the chances…?” She shook her head, logic stating that there was no possible way her theory could be true. Tony was right there with her, understanding what she insinuated was completely crazy.

In case her crazy idea was true, she needed to act fast. “I’m going to take this necklace off of you,” she explained, waiting for you to nod before continuing. Her hands lifted your head slightly, shifting the chain of the necklace to locate the clasp. Her fingers guided it around your neck… and again… and again. There was no clasp. “Tony.” Her words were sharp, like a bomb would go off at any moment. “I need wire cutters.”

He wasted no time rummaging through drawers, eventually leaning in and grabbing the chain for himself with the pliers in one hand. Clink. The chain was rock solid. He tried cutting it again. “Ah, shit!” He dropped the pliers, waving his hands around like they were on fire.

“No, this can’t be possible! Give me the wire cutters!” Natasha wasn’t staying calm anymore, her hands desperate to pull the necklace off of you. Tony handed them over, letting the redhead fall into the same trap. The pliers suddenly felt like hot lava in her hands, having no use on the dainty chain keeping the ruby on your neck. But it wasn’t a ruby, and Natasha quickly realized her theory was true. It was the reality stone.

“How could her mom have had it? How is this possible?” A million questions were racing through Natasha’s head, and your life was slipping before her eyes. You were becoming less and less responsive, groans and whines tapering out. “I need you to tell me everything you know about this necklace. What did your mom say when she gave it to you?” Her hands brushed your forehead softly, attempting to coax you out of your near unconscious state.

You used whatever energy you had left to share what you knew, but it wasn’t much. “She didn’t give it to me, she left it to me in her will.” Natasha froze. She didn’t know your mother was dead. Even after all those hours spent getting to know each other, you failed to share the most important piece of information.

“How did your mom die…?” Her words were cautious, like the answer was going to reveal a deadly secret. Well, that’s exactly what it did.

“She got really sick all of a sudden, and just kinda… faded away.” The hurt in your voice grew, you had yet to tell Natasha anything about your mother. A part of you always wanted to keep a strong front about that because you knew Natasha had none, and maybe yours would give her a sense of comfort. That all was lost now, knowing the truth was pertinent to saving your own life.

Natasha felt her heart drop into her stomach. The reality stone killed your mother. And it was going to kill you too. Tony looked somber for once, if only you could’ve seen his face. He knew the only thing left to do was keep you comfortable until the stone finished its course through your body. “Nat, I think we should move her somewhere comfor-“

“No.” Her words were like ice; she wasn’t ready to give up on you yet. “There has to be someone who knows more about the stone than we do. It traces back from Asgard, right? Thor has to know something…” She was grasping at straws, but knew the stone's origin was the first place to start.

Tony nodded, deep in thought himself. He was at a loss for ideas, and agreed Thor would be the best bet if Natasha was insistent on finding a solution. “I’ll call him now. Let’s hope he knows the stone better than we do.”

—————

“What a shame. You need help with the funeral arrangements then, yes?” Thor’s booming voice did anything but offer Natasha comfort. She stood right in front of him, her green eyes piercing his with a look that could cause mortal beings to cower in fear.

“We called you here so you could help keep her alive, not rush her death.” She was furious, willing to do anything at this point to save you. But the problem was, there wasn’t much anyone could do. And she wasn’t willing to admit that.

By now, more than just Thor had heard of what happened. Soon, the entire team filed in one by one. Although the previous silence was nice, Tony agreed it would be a good idea to have more heads thinking on a solution. Natasha was bitter at first, but reluctantly allowed it once you were settled. Bruce had set up some intravenous meds to keep you comfortable, and Wanda cast her red wisps on your mind to keep your thoughts at ease.

The last person to arrive was Dr. Strange, who didn’t attend the party like everyone else. “Too busy for some halloween fun, huh?” Tony greeted him snarkily.

“I don’t entertain myself with childish holidays.” He smiled, nodding to Natasha as their eyes met. Everyone was hovered around you, similar expressions of concern and worry filling everyone’s faces. So much for not ruining anyone’s halloween.

Natasha filled the group in on what she knew, leaving the team asking themselves the same million questions. Strange was the first to speak up “Do you know if she can harness the powers the stone brings its owner?” Natasha shook her head, she never considered that seeing as you were incapacitated.

“No, we never tried. We only found out it was the reality stone after she was in and out of consciousness.” She explained, her eyes locking with the deathly red gem clinging to your chest. Strange nodded, brushing his chin with his pointer finger and thumb in deep thought. The gears in his mind were turning; he was especially knowledgeable about the stones and how they worked through his years of protection over the time stone.

“Strange might be onto something,” Thor chimed in. “If she can use the stone’s abilities, would she be able to warp her own reality?” The entire team was silent, no one truly knew if that was viable. But what everyone did know was that there was no harm in trying, they were all desperate for any solution.

“The only issue is, we need to keep her conscious enough to even attempt it.” Tony commented, looking around for any suggestions. Wanda stepped up, knowing exactly how to help.

“I’ve got that covered. I can use some of my power to keep her conscious,” She bit her lip. “I don’t know how long I can hold it for, so you’ll have to be quick.” Natasha nodded at her, knowing she’d be the one to explain the situation to you. And god, she hoped the plan would work.

“Everyone else, wait outside. Let’s give them some space. Strange, Romanoff, Maximoff,  Thor, you four stay and figure it out. We’ll be outside if you need anything.” Tony instructed everyone, earning a nod of respect from Natasha. The room grew silent once more, the four gathered around your bed.

“Alright,” Wanda prepared herself, eyeing everyone in the circle. “On my count, three… two…” The red wisps in her hands returned, flowing streaks of light swirling above her palms. “One.” She directed them at your mind, causing your eyes to immediately flutter open.

The world was foggy, and the weight on your chest remained. Something soothed it slightly, but only like how a bandaid stops a gushing wound. You noticed the IV on your arm and assumed it was responsible. “Natasha?” You blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the handful of people before you. They were all heroes you recognized, though you hadn’t seen Strange in quite some time.

“Hey, welcome back,” Natasha was on your left side, leaning in so you could see her face clearly. A smile was pasted on her face, attempting to cover the worry underneath it. “I’m going to give you a lot of information at once, and I need you to do as I say very quickly, okay?” She explained softly. You nodded, ready and listening even in your weakened state.

“That necklace,” Her eyes fell toward the stone. “Is the reality stone. It’s sucking the life out of you, and we need you to try and use the stone’s powers to stop it. Can you try to imagine taking the necklace off?” You nodded, unsure where to start. You’d never used any of the stones before, but had watched other’s perform certain actions with them. Think, c’mon, just imagine. The meds being pumped into made you feel even weaker, like you couldn’t focus your groggy mind on just one thing. As you went to tell Natasha that, you realized she wasn’t there.

None of them were. The room was empty and dark, the overhead light flickering on and off. What the hell? It was eerily silent, you could hear the sound of your own slow heartbeat. “Hello?” You called out, your voice still raspy. Silence. You looked around, that’s when a sudden humming filled your ears. Was it one of the machines? No, it was someone actually humming.

You turned to your right, and there she was. Your mother softly hummed as she played with your hair. A deep breath found its way to your chest, like a sigh of relief. She hadn’t sung you to sleep since you were little. You looked up at her, but her own gaze was locked on your hair.

“Mom,” You whispered, like the sound of your voice would scare her off.

“Hm?” She responded softly, eyes still straying from yours.

You smiled, taking in the delicate features of her face. She could hear you. “The necklace, it hurts, Mom.” She furrowed her brow, continuing her soft humming. Her hands moved from your hair, down to the back of your neck. She fiddled with the chain, a small click sounding. Before you knew it, the necklace was in her hands.

“I’m sorry it caused you so much trouble,” She suddenly spoke, her eyes finally meeting yours. They were full of warmth, all the memories hidden beneath their deep color. “I’m sorry it left you without a mother.”

You moved to thank her, but in an instant she disappeared. Your heart sank, she was gone just like before. Rapidly blinking your eyes, you tried to puzzle together the shifted perspective. You were still in the room, this time with the four familiar figures around you. The humming was replaced by the slow beeping of a heart rate monitor.

“I can’t hold on for much longer, she’s slipping.” Wanda’s voice filled your ears, and you could soon make out the red wisps swirling around your head. Your eyes were watering, tears cascading down your cheeks as you realized none of it was real. Your mother was still dead, and it was all fake. The stupid stone made up a reality only there to taunt you.

You felt for the necklace around your neck, everyone’s eyes widening in fear as they noticed. It was gone. “Oh my god… you did it.” Natasha breathed, leaning in to see for herself. Just as Wanda’s red wisps dissipated, the red stone was no longer holding hostage around your neck. Taking into account all of your senses, you felt the weight of something in your palm.

Slowly uncurling your fingers, there it was. No longer gleaming, just an innocent looking red stone. Your gaze met Natasha’s, her evident expression of fear slowly slipping away as she noticed the harmless necklace in your hand. The room was silent. All that chaos over a stone, now sitting happily in your palm.

“I’ll go get Tony.” Strange commented, unwilling to stick around for any emotional reunion that might take place. Though, you weren’t sure what to feel. Being brought to a false reality made you question if this one was even real, and if it was actually all over. It all happened so fast; you felt victim of stone-induced whiplash from seeing your mother for only a second before she was cruelly taken away.

“Hey,” Natasha’s soft voice brought you back from your spiraling thoughts, aiding you in proving that this reality was in fact real. “Are you okay?” You could only nod, eventually feeling Natasha’s hand slip into your free one. It didn’t take long for Tony to rush into the room, a clear jar being nursed in the crook of his arm. He held it out, nodding at you with permission.

Slowly, you let the necklace slide out of your hand and into the jar, Tony hastily screwing the lid on just as the chain hit the glass with a clink. And just like that, the necklace was gone—along with the last physical reminder you had of your mother.

—————

A few days had passed since the incident; you were given paid time off to stay home and rest—partly because Tony didn’t want to be held liable, but mostly because the team genuinely cared about your wellbeing. You were frustrated by the sentiment, even though it was kind. Trapped in your apartment with nothing to do for a few weeks was a nightmare. Though nothing was as nightmarish as what you experienced.

The image of your mother next to you was burned into your mind. Every corner you turned, it felt like she was there. At the kitchen counter, staring at you in wait. On the living room couch, sitting peacefully watching television. Even in your bedroom, folding clothes for your dresser. But then you’d blink and she’d be gone like before.

You hadn’t told anyone about these hallucinations, mostly because you figured they were your post near-death anxieties. Agents would stop by your apartment occasionally, checking in or bringing groceries and whatnot. On the third day of your isolation, you heard the usual knock around dinnertime.

“It’s unlocked.” You called out from the couch. The apartment door swung open, a smug looking redhead on the other side with a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“I thought you might want comfort food tonight.” Natasha smirked, letting herself in. You matched her expression, quickly jumping up to meet her in the kitchen.

The bottle of wine made you especially giddy. “Bruce says I’m not supposed to drink.” She shrugged, locating your wine opener and popping the cork.

“What Bruce doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” You chuckled, grabbing two glasses for her to pour. “Besides, I think this is long overdue. Especially considering what the agents who come by here are saying…” The wine glugged as she filled each glass, your expression furrowing in a questioning manor.

“What are the other agents saying?” You asked. She slid you a full glass.

“You look terrified out of your mind. Obviously something’s up. I don’t blame you for keeping it to yourself around them.” She grabbed a slice of pizza, taking a bite to punctuate her words. You slid her a plate, grabbing one for yourself next.

It finally dawned on you why she came. “I see, so you came here to try and get more information on the situation? I told you, Natasha, I don’t know where the necklace came from.” You sighed, sipping on your wine. Her expression softened, a slight offense in her eyes. Maybe that wasn’t why she was here.

“No,” She paused for a moment, swirling her wine to watch the red liquid move fluidly. “I came here to ask what you saw when harnessing the stone’s abilities. Clearly whatever you did, it messed with you.” Natasha looked up at you, dead in the eye. She knew. Maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised, yet her actions always left you guessing. Of course, the agent you’ve known for all this time knew you were keeping something to yourself.

You put down the pizza slice that had been occupying your hands, taking a deep breath as you debated how to word what you saw. After all this time, keeping up the appearance of a hard-shelled agent, you needed to break that wall down.

“I saw my mom,” Your words hit harder than you expected, your own breathing becoming irregular. “She took the necklace off, that’s all.” You didn’t want to go into detail; instead, you swallowed thickly and stared at the pizza now left for the cold on your plate.

“Is that all?” Natasha questioned, her gaze still landing on you. It seemed too brief an explanation for how long you were unconscious for. You covered your face with your hands in frustration. There was no hiding anything, you’d have to tell it all.

“God, fine! She sat by me, and played with my hair. She sang to me like she used to when I was a kid. And she apologized, for what the stone caused. Then she was gone, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye; just like the first time.” Before you knew it, tears were rolling down your cheeks. Natasha hadn’t seen you like this before, but that didn’t deter her.

She was at your side in mere seconds, her boots clacking as she walked around the kitchen island. And eventually, her arms were wrapped around you, holding you tight like you might fall if she let go. “I wish it was real, Nat. I wish she were here.” You sobbed into her shoulder, letting all your hopes fall into her arms.

“I know, love.” There it was again. Love. This time, it didn’t go without notice. You just didn’t know how to respond. So instead, you sat in her arms in silence, letting the wave of emotion flow that needed to for years now. And Natasha didn’t mind one bit.

—————

Finally, your return to work had arrived. After weeks spent in isolation, you were more than ready to head back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with a clean bill of health. On top of Bruce’s immense tests, you were also well rested for once. After your talk with Natasha, the ghostly appearances of your mother just… stopped. You expected to be saddened by them, but mostly you felt relieved. She was at peace, and now you could be too.

Your first day back at the office was more memorable than you were expecting. The team decorated your desk, streamers of red hanging from it’s surface with a plate of red-frosted cookies and a ‘Welcome Back!’ sign. You all laughed, sharing the cookies as you rolled your eyes over the symbolic red decorations.

While everyone strayed back to their own departments for the day, Natasha lagged behind. “Don’t work yourself too hard on your first day back.” Her voice made you look up from your pile of documents, your eyes meeting.

“You and I both know I can’t do that.” You smirked, standing from your desk. She stepped in front of you, your bodies adjacent. “Thanks,” Your expression turned soft, a smile accenting your words. “For all your support, and for helping me get back on my feet.”

She nodded, a matching smile covering her face. “Anytime.” There was a comfortable silence, which urged Natasha to ask you something that’d been on her mind. “Now that you’re back, how about I take you out for a real dinner?” She asked, that familiar smugness quickly returning.

You chuckled, slightly surprised she was the one to make the first move after all. “I’d love that.” In the end, you were able to rely on Natasha as so much more than just a supporting agent on the field. You could rely on her as a friend—and maybe after this dinner, something even more.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Forgetting

Carol Danvers x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, long distance, fluffy times, explicit language, implied sex (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: It's been nearly a year since you've seen your girlfriend and almost two months since you've heard from her. And you're beginning to worry that she's forgotten about you. After all, the universe is a big place.

357 days. That’s how long it had been since you’d seen your girlfriend. You tried to think of yourself like a military spouse. After all, Carol did used to be in the Air Force. And she did travel to far-away, dangerous places to protect people, with very limited communication for long periods of time. It’s just that her dangerous locations were in other galaxies instead of other countries.

You were used to her being gone or, well, as used to it as you could be. The longer her absence went on, the more used to it you got, but somehow it also became harder. When she first set off on this mission, she’d been in your galaxy, so communications had come faster and with more regularity. Less space and time for them to travel through. But the farther away she got, the longer it took her messages to get to you. You were lucky if you got one email a month.

It wasn’t personal. You knew that. She was far away. Even with the best technology S.H.I.E.L.D. could provide to a civilian, her communication with you was still slow and limited. But, god, you missed her. You missed her laugh. You missed the warmth of her next to you in bed. You missed the way she propped her leg up when she sat down, no matter what kind of chair it was. You hung on every word of her emails, going over them so often you’d memorized them.

It had been two months since Carol’s last email. It was a long time to go without communication, even for her. The irrational part of your brain was desperately worried for her. There’s no telling what kind of high-risk situations she got herself into out there. But you knew that if anyone could handle themselves against all the forces of evil in the universe, it was Carol. You also knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have contacted you immediately had anything happened to her.

Another part of your brain–equally irrational but much harder to talk down–worried that Carol had forgotten you. The universe that Carol traversed was huge. Infinite, even. She saw things no one else had ever seen. Met people and experienced cultures that were so different from ours on Earth that we’d never even dream them up. Who’s to say she hadn’t found somewhere–someone–more beautiful than here, with you? She saw entire worlds, the neverending canvas of space and time. How could it possibly be that, of all the things in the known universe, you were the one worth coming home to? You always worried that maybe, this time, you weren’t.

As you climbed into bed, missing, as always, the feeling of Carol’s arms wrapped around you, the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, you once again pulled up her most recent email. From 61 days ago.

Hi, baby. I hope all’s well on Earth. I’m sad I’m missing spring–you know it’s my favorite season. Are there apricots on the tree yet? Or just buds? I’d give an arm for an apricot right now. I’m farther out than normal, so you might not hear from me for a while. One of the Andromedas. 2.7 lightyears away, if you can believe it. It scares me a little to be so far away from you.

I know I’ve said it before, but it gets lonely out here. Sometimes I wish you could come with me, but I know your body wouldn’t handle space-time travel like mine does. Superhero probs. Also, it’s probably not fair for me to make you put your entire life on pause just because I miss you like crazy.

It’s so beautiful out here in a weird, quiet way. I wish you could see it. Yesterday, I passed a pulsar. A star carcass, as I like to call them. They’re these gigantic masses of spinning light that put out radio signals (which might interfere with how quickly you get this, fuck pulsars). You’ve never seen something so big. So big it’s almost hard to believe it’s really there.

Anyway. I’m rambling. I miss you so much. I always miss you, but this time feels harder for some reason. I miss the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. I miss the way your hair sticks up in the morning. I miss kissing you. I miss doing more than kissing you. I just miss you.

I’m not sure when I’ll get home, but I think about you every day, every second. Nothing in this galaxy or the next or the next compares to you. Please stay safe. Don’t be sad. Snuggle Goose for me.

I love you.

Carol

You fell asleep reading through the email, again and again, your phone going dark in your hand beside you as you drifted off. You dreamed of pulsars. You dreamed of Carol.

Hours later, you jerked awake, gasping, as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey!” a voice said, calming, reassuring. “It’s just me.”

You’d know that voice anywhere. “Carol!” you squealed, grabbing her and pulling her onto the bed with you, holding her as tight as possible so she could never, ever leave you for so long again. “You’re home!”

You felt her smile against you as she buried her face in your neck, wrapping her strong arms around you. She smelled metallic, almost like gunpowder; you knew it by now–the smell of space. “Hi, baby,” she whispered, breathing you in. “I missed you so much.”

Still holding you close, Carol sat up a bit to just look at you, just take you in. She ran her hand along your cheekbone and pressed a warm kiss to your mouth. A kiss you’d been so desperate for, you thought you might die from relief. Her lips tasted like space, too, the way metal smells after rain. So uniquely her. How many other people could say they knew the taste of space?

“Are you crying?!” Carol asked, alarmed, as she brushed a few tears from under your eyelids.

You sniffed and mumbled, “I thought maybe you forgot about me.”

Carol pulled you to her chest, running her fingers through your hair, lightly grazing her fingernails against your scalp. You shivered at the sensation.

“Oh, baby,” she breathed. “I could never forget about you.”

“But there’s so much out there.”

“Mmhm,” she said, kissing your nose. “And none of it’s as beautiful as you.”

When she moved to stand up, you grasped her hands. “No, no! Stay here and snuggle!”

She laughed, grinning from ear to ear, as she pushed your hair back from your face. “I have to shower, Y/N. I smell like an asteroid.”

You leapt out of bed to stand next to her, looping your arm and hand through hers and leaning against her shoulder. You couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. You never wanted to let her go.

“Can I join you?” you asked, blushing a little. After all, it had been nearly a year.

Carol looked at you lovingly, smiling softly, a few of her own tears building. She squeezed your hand and dragged you after her into the bathroom. “God, yes.”

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Tired Eyes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader

Summary: Natasha takes care of Romanoff!reader after a tiring mission

Warnings: None except bad writing, basic MCU stuff

Word Count: 500 ish, she's a short one

Steve gently shook you awake.

"N/N, we're about to land," He said.

You tiredly sat up and rubbed sleep out of your eyes, resting your head on your hand.

Your mission that day was tough, physically.

It was supposed to be relatively easy so only you, Steve, and Sam were sent on it.

A S.H.I.E.L.D member had been abducted and you three were tasked with retrieving them.

Compared to fighting aliens and taking down high status members of society, it wouldn't have been difficult.

You weren't aware that the soldiers at the base you were headed to had found out about your mission and upped their number of soldiers greatly.

You all managed to make it out with minimal injuries, and the abducted person alive and well.

But you were still exhausted.

You didn't have Steve's super soldier abilities or Sam's wings.

Your mother had taught you how to fight from a young age and you had a natural talent for it.

Even with your excellent skill and knowledge, you could only fight so many people.

The quinjet landed and you slowly exited it.

"You good, N/N?" Sam asked, resting a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded her head slightly.

Sam kept his arm around you as you walked back into the Avengers compound.

You and Sam parted ways and your tired eyes searched for your mother.

When you finally spotted her you briskly walked to your mother, crashing into her slightly when you got to her.

Natasha stumbled a little bit and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" She asked, carefully inspecting you for injuries or bruises, only seeing a few tiny marks on your face.

"I'm okay," You whispered into your mother's shoulder, resting most of your body weight against her.

Natasha stood there for a minute with you in her arms and softly stroked your hair.

"Let's get you cleaned up so you can get some rest, okay?"

You nodded and followed your mother to your room.

Natasha went to get the first aid kit and other things from your bathroom while you sat down on the floor next to your bed, not wanting to sit on your bed with dirty clothes.

Natasha sat down in front of you and gently cleaned your face with a dampened washcloth.

You flinched slightly when Natasha went over a small cut on your cheek.

Natasha took a disinfectant wipe and cleaned the cut, careful not to hurt you.

She placed a band-aid over the cut and started putting the things back into the first aid kit.

"Are you too tired to take a shower?" Natasha asked.

You thought for a second before nodding.

"Okay, you should at least get changed before you sleep, though."

Natasha got up and went to get you some more comfortable clothes.

Your eyes were falling shut when Natasha walked back over to you.

"Baby, I know you're tired but you have to get changed."

"Help?" You asked quietly.

Natasha nodded understandingly and helped you get changed into comfier clothes.

You crawled into your bed while your mother went to throw your dirtied clothes in a laundry basket.

"Can you stay with me for a little bit?" You asked your mom.

Natasha smiled sweetly, "Of course I can."

She lay down next to you and you tiredly moved to rest your head on her chest.

The sound of your mother's heartbeat and breathing quickly lulled you to sleep.

Natasha waited a few minutes to make sure you were comfortable and asleep before falling asleep herself.

fin. ♡

[thecaptainoutoftime]

"Attention all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, this is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time to tell the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D. is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The S.T.R.I.K.E. and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those Helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."

Happy 10th Anniversary to Captain America: The Winter Soldier

April 4th 2014-April 4th 2024

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

[amethystarachnid]

Hello. I’d like to request a Loki x Fem!Reader. Not sure if you’ve seen Step Up 3 but the song Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan was played and basically in the scene the two love interests did a tango (I would look it up for reference 🩷). So maybe Loki and Reader are on an undercover mission and they get tied into a tango. You can interpret it however you want but I’ve had this ask stuck in my head for a while now. Hope you like this! 🩷🩷

BOUND BY DUTY

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, flirty

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: Loki has been called form the S.H.I.E.L.D. to help the Avengers with an anomaly that's happening around the world and you're assigned to be his handler. You were told to not trust him but what if under that mask of indifference there's a man just wishing to be loved?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.7k

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a few hated kisses and flirty comments

ᯓ★ I haven't seen the movie but I've seen the scene on YouTube (like just the 3 minutes ? scene) and really hop you'll like the story

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound feels heavier than usual. It could be the weight of the mission ahead or the fact that the one person who might hold the answers is a literal god—a god of mischief, no less. You’ve been briefed on Loki’s recent exploits, his failed conquest of Earth, and his punishment in Asgard’s dungeons. You know better than to trust him, but you also know that sometimes the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don’t.

Nick Fury has chosen you, of all people, to act as Loki’s handler. You don’t know whether to feel honored or utterly cursed. He claims it’s because of your “unflinching professionalism” and “ability to handle high-pressure situations.” You suspect it’s because most of your colleagues would rather face a firing squad than deal with Loki’s silver tongue.

The sound of the jet door opening draws your attention. You straighten your back and smooth your jacket as two Asgardian guards march down the ramp, their armor gleaming even under the dim hangar lights. Between them walks Loki, his wrists bound in glowing cuffs that hum faintly with suppressed power. He’s wearing his usual dark green attire, though the horned helmet is missing. Without it, his raven-black hair tumbles around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes sweep the room, landing on you.

You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, appraising you. He smirks. Of course, he smirks.

“Agent,” Fury’s voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you slightly. “Take him to interrogation. The guards will brief you on his restraints.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice calm and steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The Asgardian guards exchange a few words with you about Loki’s bindings. They warn you not to let your guard down—ever. You assure them you won’t, though you’re starting to realize that resisting Loki’s words might be a different kind of challenge altogether.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing for Loki to follow you. He arches an eyebrow but complies, falling into step beside you. The guards trail behind at a respectful distance.

The walk to the interrogation room is uncomfortably silent. You’re hyper-aware of Loki’s presence beside you, his tall frame moving with a predatory grace. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been imprisoned for months; he looks like he owns the place, and you’re just a guest in his domain.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. Of course, he does.

“Tell me, Agent,” he begins, his voice smooth and lilting, “do they often send mortals to babysit gods, or am I a special case?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, determined not to rise to the bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Think of me as your parole officer.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost pleasant if you didn’t know better. “And if I were to misbehave, what then? Will you scold me? Perhaps send me to my room without supper?”

His words drip with mockery, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe even intrigue. You keep your expression neutral. “If you misbehave, you’ll find out just how creative S.H.I.E.L.D. can be when it comes to disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the way his eyes linger on you. You remind yourself that this is what Loki does: he gets under people’s skin, twists their emotions until they don’t know which way is up. You won’t let him succeed.

The interrogation room is as stark and clinical as you’d expect. A metal table and two chairs sit under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Loki looks around with mild disdain as if the room itself offends his sensibilities.

“This is where you intend to question me?” he asks, his tone dripping with derision. “How... quaint.”

You motion for him to sit. He doesn’t move immediately, instead watching you with that infuriating smirk. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair with the air of someone granting you a great favor.

The guards secure his bindings to the table before stepping back. You nod at them, and they leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Now it’s just you and Loki. You take the seat across from him, pulling out a tablet with your notes.

“We have reason to believe you have information about a recent incident involving extraterrestrial technology,” you say, your voice steady. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered several devices that match the energy signature of the Tesseract. We need to know where they came from.”

Loki leans back in his chair, the chains on his wrists clinking softly. “Ah, the Tesseract. Such a fascinating little trinket. Tell me, Agent, do you often meddle in matters beyond your comprehension?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply coolly. “It’s about you. And what you know.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what do I gain from sharing this knowledge? A lighter sentence? A pat on the head? Somehow, I doubt your superiors are feeling particularly charitable toward me.”

“We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for cooperation. Help us, and we might consider negotiating with Asgard on your behalf.”

Loki’s laughter fills the room, sharp and cold. “Negotiate with Asgard? Oh, how delightfully naive. Do you honestly believe Odin would entertain such an offer? He’d sooner banish me to the farthest reaches of the cosmos than indulge your mortal whims.”

You suppress a sigh, already feeling the weight of this conversation. But then Loki leans forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Still,” he says, his voice softer now, almost teasing, “I might be persuaded to cooperate. After all, it would be such a shame to disappoint you.”

There it is again—that deliberate charm, the way he threads his words with just enough sincerity to make you second-guess yourself. You fold your arms, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You don’t intimidate me, Loki.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Merely... entertain you. Is that not the proper term for what mortals call ‘flirting’?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your expression neutral. “If this is your idea of flirting, I’m not impressed.”

“Hmm,” he muses, leaning back again. “Perhaps I’ve spent too long among Asgardians. We have a certain... flair for tradition. Shall I compose you a sonnet instead? Or perhaps challenge another suitor to a duel in your honor?”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You quickly school your features, but not before Loki notices. His smirk widens.

“There it is,” he says, his tone triumphant. “A crack in the armor. I knew you weren’t entirely immune to my charms.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tap a few notes into your tablet, focusing on the task at hand.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” you say firmly. “Where did the devices come from?”

Loki sighs dramatically, as if the question bores him. “You mortals are so dreadfully predictable. Always demanding answers, yet never willing to pay the price for them.”

“What’s the price?”

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Your name, Agent,” he repeats, enunciating the words slowly, as if you’re a particularly dense student. “You see, it’s rather difficult to have a proper conversation when I must refer to you as simply ‘Agent.’ It’s so... impersonal.”

You hesitate. It’s not a particularly sensitive piece of information, but giving him your name feels like handing him a weapon. Still, you decide it’s a small concession if it means making progress.

“Y/N,” you say finally. “My name is Y/N.”

Loki’s smile softens, though it’s no less dangerous. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mortal. Tell me, Y/N, do all agents possess your... charm, or are you truly one of a kind?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you reply, though your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. You hope the harsh lighting hides it.

“Ah, but it’s not flattery if it’s true,” he counters smoothly. “And if I may say so, you wear skepticism rather well. It suits you.”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Loki’s flirtations are relentless, but you can’t let them distract you. You refocus on the task, determined to get the answers you need.

But as the interrogation continues, one thing becomes clear: working with Loki is going to be anything but straightforward.

The quinjet ride to Avengers Tower is suffocating in its silence. Loki sits across from you, his long legs stretched out casually as if he owns the entire aircraft. His wrists remain bound, the faint glow of the Asgardian cuffs serving as a reminder of his diminished power. But that doesn’t stop him from exuding arrogance with every calculated shift of his posture.

“Is this where I’m supposed to tremble?” he muses, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The great Avengers Tower, lair of the mighty heroes who so thoroughly bested me.” His smirk deepens. “How quaint.”

You’re seated across from him, tablet in hand, pretending to review your notes. But Loki’s presence is impossible to ignore, his every word curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe don’t insult the people who’ll be watching your every move,” you say, not looking up. “They’re already not thrilled about this arrangement.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “And you, Y/N? Are you thrilled?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, but your job now entails keeping me under control, does it not?” His voice lowers, playful and conspiratorial. “Tell me, how does it feel to hold the leash of a god?”

You glance up, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It feels like babysitting a particularly arrogant toddler.”

His laughter rings out, rich and genuine, surprising you. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard. But then his expression shifts back to its usual smugness, and you realize he’s thoroughly enjoying this verbal sparring.

When the quinjet lands on the rooftop pad of Avengers Tower, you rise, gesturing for Loki to follow. He does, the clinking of his cuffs echoing as he steps out into the open air. The city sprawls out below, glittering in the early evening light, but Loki barely spares it a glance. His focus remains on the tower itself, his smirk growing as he takes in the structure.

“Ah, Stark’s playground,” he says. “I trust the man himself is waiting inside, ready to deliver a string of tiresome quips?”

“Something like that,” you reply, leading him toward the elevator.

As the doors slide open, Loki steps inside with the air of a man entering his throne room. You press the button for the common floor, bracing yourself for the chaos that’s about to unfold.

The doors slide open to reveal the Avengers lounging in the common area. Tony Stark is leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, while Natasha Romanoff sharpens a knife at the table. Steve Rogers stands near the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Bruce Banner hovers awkwardly in the background, glancing up as you and Loki step in.

“Look who’s here!” Tony’s voice cuts through the tension, dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Reindeer Games himself. I thought Asgard had a no-returns policy.”

Loki’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Ah, Stark. Still compensating for something, I see.”

“Alright, let’s not,” you interject quickly, stepping between them. “Loki’s here to help us, not pick a fight.”

“Help us?” Steve’s voice is cold, his gaze sharp as it settles on Loki. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s true,” you reply, keeping your tone firm. “We’ve encountered tech with energy signatures similar to the Tesseract. Loki’s the only one who might have answers.”

“Because trusting the guy who tried to enslave the planet worked out so well the first time,” Tony quips, raising his glass.

Loki chuckles softly. “It’s heartwarming to see how fondly you remember me.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes darting between Loki and the others. You don’t miss the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitch as if ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Loki notices too, and for the first time since his arrival, a flicker of unease crosses his face. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“I see the beast is still lurking,” Loki says, his voice quieter now, though the edge remains. “Tell me, Dr. Banner, does he hunger for revenge?”

Bruce flinches, his face pale. “I—I’d rather not...”

“Enough,” you cut in sharply, fixing Loki with a glare. “You’re here to cooperate, remember?”

Loki raises his hands as far as the cuffs allow, feigning innocence. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten the good doctor.”

Bruce mutters something under his breath and retreats further into the room. You make a mental note to keep an eye on both him and Loki; their shared tension feels like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

After the initial round of barbs, you manage to get Loki settled in a secure room. It’s more comfortable than the dungeons of Asgard but still far from luxurious—bare walls, a simple bed, and a reinforced door with biometric locks.

“Charming,” Loki says, surveying his new accommodations. “I feel right at home.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. If you step out of line, even once, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He steps closer, just enough to invade your space without crossing a line. His voice drops to a low purr. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t doubt your ability to... discipline me. In fact, I almost look forward to it.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you hold your ground. “Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave, you hear his voice again, softer this time. “Y/N?”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper.

“Why do you trust them with me?” he asks. “Your precious Avengers. Do you truly believe they can keep me in line?”

You meet his gaze, your own unwavering. “I don’t trust them to keep you in line. That’s my job.”

His smirk returns, but there’s something almost genuine beneath it. “Indeed, it is.”

The following day, the team gathers in the briefing room. Loki is seated at the far end of the table, his wrists still bound, though his demeanor remains as smug as ever. A holographic projection displays images of the recovered devices, their design sleek and alien.

“These were found in an abandoned Hydra facility,” you explain, gesturing to the display. “They emit the same energy signature as the Tesseract, but we have no idea what they’re for. That’s where Loki comes in.”

All eyes turn to him. He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Convince me,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Why should I share my insights with you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Tony says, leaning forward, “we’ll lock you in a room with Banner and see how long it takes before the Other Guy wants a rematch.”

Bruce shoots Tony a horrified look, but Loki’s smirk falters for a split second. You notice the way his fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

“Enough,” you say firmly. “We’re not resorting to threats.” You turn to Loki, your voice softening slightly. “You know what’s out there, and you know how dangerous it can be. Help us stop it. Prove you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.”

For a moment, the room is silent. Loki’s gaze locks onto yours, something flickering in his expression—something almost vulnerable. Then, slowly, he inclines his head.

“Very well,” he says, his voice smooth once more. “Let’s see if mortals can keep up.”

As the meeting disperses, Loki lingers behind, waiting until it’s just the two of you.

“Nicely done, Y/N,” he says, his tone almost... complimentary. “You’ve mastered the art of persuasion.”

“I didn’t persuade you,” you reply. “I just told the truth.”

He steps closer, his smirk returning. “And yet, it worked. I wonder, what other truths might you use to sway me?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Let’s focus on saving the world first, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he says, bowing his head slightly. But as he steps past you, his voice drops to a whisper. “Though I suspect saving me might be your true challenge.”

You watch him leave, your heart inexplicably pounding. This mission just got a lot more complicated.

The next morning, the Avengers leave in a flurry of purpose and energy, Stark’s voice echoing with instructions as they file out of the tower. It’s a rare sight—every single one of them heading into the field together. You’re left behind, tasked with monitoring Loki and keeping the tower secure.

The quiet that follows their departure is almost unnerving. You sit in the common area, flipping through a report on your tablet, when Loki saunters in. He’s unbound for now—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s restraints only used when necessary. His movements are languid, predatory, as he crosses the room with his usual air of entitlement.

“Left alone with me again, Y/N?” he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You don’t look up. “You’re always alone, Loki. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy anything or anyone.”

He hums thoughtfully, his sharp gaze raking over you. “I wonder, is that truly why you remain? Or do you find my company... intriguing?”

You glance at him, exasperated. “I find it tolerable. At best.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk widens as he steps closer, just enough to test your boundaries. “Tell me, Agent, what do you do when the others aren’t here to play their parts? Surely, you don’t spend every waking moment in this dull little tower watching me.”

“Someone has to.” You set your tablet aside and stand, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Why don’t you make my job easier and sit quietly for once?”

“But then how would I amuse myself?” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “You may not admit it, but I suspect you’d miss my antics if I were to behave.”

You roll your eyes and walk toward the kitchen, feigning indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself, Loki.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. You keep yourself busy with monitoring systems and catching up on reports, all while Loki stays suspiciously quiet in his room. It's unusual—he’s normally a restless presence, eager to test limits.

You assume his compliance is a sign of temporary boredom. What you don’t know is that Loki is lying in his sparse room, calculating. He’s been studying the tower’s security systems, searching for a way to slip past its safeguards. Tonight might be the night, he thinks. He’s memorized the patterns, the gaps, and he knows he can vanish before the Avengers even realize he’s gone.

As the hours stretch into evening, you retire to your room, unaware of the god’s intentions. Your space is a rare sanctuary in the tower, a blend of cozy practicality and personal touches that feel distinctly you.

Loki waits until the tower falls completely silent. With a wave of his hand, he disables the monitoring device in his room. It’s a minor spell—one he’s been saving for the right moment. The cuffs are no longer a problem; he’s studied the locking mechanism enough to slip them off without much effort.

He steps into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool floor. For the first time in weeks, he feels a surge of freedom, the tantalizing promise of escape. He heads for the exit, his mind already planning the next steps.

But as he passes by your room, a faint sound catches his attention. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of warm light into the hall. Loki hesitates, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

He peeks inside—and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

You’re standing in front of your bed, freshly out of the shower. Your hair is damp, curling against your shoulders, and you’re wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around your body. The bathroom door behind you is still open, steam curling into the air, and the glow of a bedside lamp bathes your skin in soft light.

Completely unaware of your observer, you move to the dresser, pulling it open to retrieve clothes. As you reach up, the towel slips slightly, revealing more of your shoulder and the curve of your collarbone. Loki swallows hard, a rush of heat pooling in his chest and spreading lower.

He knows he should leave—should slip away unnoticed and continue with his plan. But he doesn’t move.

There’s something captivating about this glimpse of you outside the professional walls you keep so firmly in place. You’re unguarded, human in a way he rarely sees, and it stirs something in him he doesn’t entirely understand.

He takes a step closer, his presence still undetected. The urge to say something, to tease you as he always does, bubbles up, but he suppresses it.

For once, the god of mischief is utterly silent.

You turn suddenly, as if sensing something, and his heart lurches. He retreats quickly, pressing himself against the wall just as your eyes flick toward the door.

“Hello?” you call, your voice uncertain.

Loki curses himself for his foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered—but now that he’s seen this side of you, his desire to leave the tower has shifted. He watches as you step closer to the door, your expression wary.

He slips away, retreating to his room without a sound. Once inside, he leans against the wall, his mind racing.

The thought of escape still lingers in the back of his mind, but it no longer feels urgent. Not tonight.

Not when he knows you’re here, in the same space, entirely unaware of the effect you’ve had on him.

You find Loki in the common area, lounging on the couch as if nothing happened. His cuffs are back in place, though you notice a faint smugness in his expression, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You seem chipper today.”

“Perhaps I’ve found reason to be,” he replies, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You frown, brushing off the unease that his words stir. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much. You’re still under watch.”

“Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “But tell me, Y/N, how did you sleep? Peacefully, I hope.”

There’s something about the way he says it—soft, teasing, with just a hint of mischief—that makes you pause.

You brush past him, refusing to let him get under your skin. But as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

And in his room later, Loki sits at the edge of his bed, the memory of you from the night before seared into his mind.

For now, his escape can wait.

The tension in the air was thick as the Avengers gathered in the briefing room, the holographic screen showing images of the upcoming gala. Tony Stark stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the surface, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the data. Steve Rogers was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set, while Natasha Romanoff sat with a focused expression, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bruce Banner, still uneasy around Loki, looked at the screen, then at his colleagues, silently awaiting the inevitable question.

"Alright," Tony began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "We've got a masked gala happening in three days. High-profile event. The criminals we're tracking are expected to make a deal there, and it's our best shot at catching them."

"But they’ll be surrounded by a lot of people," Natasha said, folding her arms. "And these are highly dangerous individuals—some with connections to Hydra. We can’t risk a full-on assault."

"I agree," Steve added, his tone serious. "If we act too soon, we’ll spook them. We need to get inside, gather intel, and only move in when we have enough to bring them down safely."

"The problem," Tony continued, tapping a button on the table to bring up a closer view of the suspects, "is that they’re too well-protected. The best way in is through someone they don’t expect. Someone like... Loki."

The room went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, the air thick with unease. Even though Loki had been cooperating—somewhat—the trust wasn’t there. Not after what he’d done. Not after the chaos he’d tried to bring to Earth. And still, his knowledge of these kinds of circles, his ability to navigate a room and blend in with the highest of society—well, it was a skill set they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tony continued. “But he’s the only one who can do this. We send him in as a guest. He can be charming—when he wants to be—and this kind of event is perfect for him. He won’t be recognized as a threat. In fact, they’ll probably be more inclined to trust him because of his past affiliations.”

“But we can’t just let him roam free,” Steve said, his distrust of the god evident. “There’s still the matter of him being dangerous. Even if he’s pretending to play nice, he’s unpredictable.”

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod. “Which is why we’ll send Y/N in with him. As his escort.”

The room went silent again, this time for a different reason. Every eye turned to you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t exactly a choice you’d been expecting. You had done plenty of fieldwork, but partnering with Loki? That was a new level of uncomfortable.

“Y/N’s been on the ground for this mission longer than any of us,” Tony continued, sensing the hesitation. “She knows the people, she knows how to blend in, and most importantly, she knows Loki better than any of us. She can keep him in check. Plus, we need someone who can keep him focused when things get... tense.”

You couldn’t help but shoot Tony a sharp look. “You’re assuming I’ll be able to control him. I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“I’m confident you can,” Tony said with a shrug, though his tone was far from comforting. “Besides, we’ll be monitoring you both from the moment you step inside. We’ll be feeding you intel, and we’ve got backup in case things go sideways. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

You let out a long breath. The Avengers were right in one respect—this gala would be the criminals’ first big move, and it was the perfect chance to catch them red-handed. The only problem was the wild card in all of this—Loki.

“You do realize, he’s going to hate this, right?” you said, glancing toward the hallway where Loki’s room was. “He won’t go along with it without making some... demands.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said with a smirk. “But that’s where you come in. You’re going to keep him in line, whether he likes it or not.”

The idea of working so closely with Loki was disconcerting, to say the least. You weren’t sure if you were more concerned about his volatile personality or the way he looked at you—like he could read you with a single glance. Either way, being his partner at a high-stakes event was sure to turn this mission into something far more complicated than it already was.

“You’ll need to get him suited up,” Tony added. “Dress him the part. He’s got the charm, but he’s going to need the right... accessories to sell it. A tux, maybe something dark and mysterious. And, of course, a story. We’re going with the ‘rich but elusive businessman’ angle.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make sure he’s... presentable. But don’t expect him to be on his best behavior just because he’s wearing a suit.”

“I’m counting on you to make sure he stays in character, Y/N,” Tony said, locking eyes with you. “We need him to play nice for just a few hours. If he steps out of line, you have full clearance to use whatever means necessary to rein him in.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I don’t like putting you in this position, Y/N. But this is the only chance we’ve got to take down these criminals. You know the risks, and we’re counting on you to make sure Loki doesn’t derail everything.”

“I get it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ll keep him focused. But if he decides to do something... foolish, don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said with a grin. “But seriously, we’re counting on you both. The gala is our best chance to catch them. You’ll be getting intel from us in real time, so we’ll know exactly when to move in.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about stopping criminals—it was about making sure Loki didn’t ruin everything, too. And while you could handle the job, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially with a god of mischief at your side.

As you walked to Loki’s room to prepare him for the mission, your mind raced. You were about to go undercover with someone who had a knack for turning every situation into a game. It was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. But if it meant catching the criminals and keeping the tower—and your team—safe, you were ready to do whatever it took.

You reached his door and knocked twice, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. It was time to bring him into the fold, even if that meant wrestling him into a tux and a plan.

Inside, Loki’s voice echoed through the door. “Come in, Y/N. I trust this isn’t a social call?”

You opened the door, steeling yourself. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

The grandeur of the gala hits you the moment you step into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, illuminating the sea of elegant masks and opulent gowns. A live band plays a sultry melody, the kind that fills the air with the promise of secrets. Beside you, Loki cuts an imposing figure, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his black mask veiling just enough of his face to make him look both alluring and dangerous.

You’re both walking a tightrope here, pretending to be something you’re not while still tethered to the truth. The mission is clear: mingle, gather intel on the criminals, and identify their deal. But the undercurrent of your arrangement hums just beneath the surface, threatening to pull you under with every step.

“They certainly went all out,” Loki muses, his voice smooth as silk. He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a fraction of a second, you take it. “Is this where I play the doting husband?”

“Try not to overdo it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “We’re supposed to blend in, not steal the spotlight.”

He tilts his head toward you, his lips curling into a smirk. “But stealing the spotlight is what I do best, darling.”

You give him a warning look, though your heart skips a beat at the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. “Save the theatrics for later. Right now, we need to find our targets.”

He hums in agreement, though the sharp gleam in his eyes suggests he’s more focused on you than the mission. His hand rests lightly over yours as he leads you through the crowd, weaving seamlessly between masked attendees. He’s good at this, you realize, his charm a perfect weapon in this environment.

“Smile,” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath ghosting against your skin. “You look far too serious for someone at a gala.”

You force a small smile, though the proximity of him sends heat rushing to your face. “I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t babysitting a god with a penchant for chaos.”

“And I’d be more entertained if my wife weren’t so suspicious of me,” he teases, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel intimate.

Before you can retort, Loki’s posture shifts ever so slightly. He leans closer, pretending to adjust your mask, and murmurs, “Our targets are at three o’clock. The tall one with the crimson gown. She’s speaking to a man with a cane.”

You glance subtly in that direction and nod. “Let’s move closer.”

The two of you drift toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning yourselves within earshot of the targets. Loki keeps his hand on yours, the intimate gesture lending an air of authenticity to your cover. You focus on the conversation happening nearby, picking up snippets of information about shipment schedules and encrypted codes.

But then, the music changes.

A familiar tune fills the room—sultry, electric, and unmistakably intense. It’s Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan, reimagined by the live band with a pulsing tango rhythm.

Before you can react, Loki takes your hand and spins you toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull back.

“Keeping up appearances,” he says smoothly, his mask glinting in the light. “We’re a married couple, after all. And what better way to celebrate our love than a dance?”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, but you allow him to lead you onto the floor.

The second your feet touch the polished wood, his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer than you expect. His other hand captures yours, holding it just above shoulder height as he begins to move. The tango’s rhythm demands sharp, deliberate steps, and Loki executes them flawlessly, guiding you as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, breathless as he spins you.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice low and magnetic.

The music swells, the band leaning into the dramatic crescendos, and you feel the tension between you and Loki rise to match it. Every step, every twist of your body against his, feels charged. His hand lingers just a moment too long when it brushes your hip, his fingers grazing the bare skin between your dress and his touch.

“You’re supposed to be watching the targets,” you remind him, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

“Ah, but how could I focus on them when my wife is such a vision?” His tone is playful, but there’s something darker, more serious, behind his words.

As he dips you, your breath catches. The movement is effortless, but the way his eyes bore into yours makes you forget, for a moment, that this is just an act.

The song’s climax hits, and Loki pulls you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me, darling. Are you pretending to enjoy this as much as I am?”

Your heart pounds, though you refuse to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t pushed me away,” he counters, spinning you once more before the final beats of the song.

The last note hangs in the air as Loki holds you in a dramatic pose, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. The applause from the crowd barely registers as you realize your breathing has quickened, your skin warm where his hand rests.

He smirks, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Shall we call this a victory, wife?”

You snap back to reality, pulling away just enough to compose yourself. “Don’t get used to it. We still have a mission.”

“Of course,” he says, though the glint in his eyes suggests he’s far more interested in the game he’s playing with you than the criminals in the room.

As the crowd disperses from the dance floor, you glance toward your targets, who seem to have moved toward a private balcony.

“Come on,” you say, tugging at his arm.

Loki follows, but not before leaning close and murmuring, “I’ll be thinking about that dance for a very long time.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. The mission isn’t over yet, and you can only hope Loki’s antics won’t make things even more complicated.

You and Loki follow the targets carefully, keeping a measured distance as they make their way toward a secluded hallway leading to the gala’s private suites. The corridor is dimly lit, lined with ornate wallpaper and gilded sconces. The murmur of the crowd fades, leaving only the faint echo of footsteps as you press closer to the wall, your pulse quickening with the thrill of being so near to your goal.

“They’re heading to the west wing,” Loki whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It seems our charming couple prefers privacy for their dealings.”

You nod, your heart pounding as you creep along the edge of the hall, trying to stay out of sight. The couple stops just ahead, speaking in hushed tones. Loki steps closer behind you, his presence almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.

“Keep your focus,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I am focused,” he replies, his tone playful but quiet. “Though I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can linger without being noticed.”

It’s a valid concern. The targets seem engrossed in their conversation, but the corridor is too exposed. You glance around, searching for a place to retreat or a better angle to listen in, but before you can decide, one of the criminals glances back sharply, their eyes scanning the hallway.

“They’re looking this way,” Loki mutters, his voice low and urgent.

Panic shoots through you. There’s no time to retreat, no place to hide. Your mind races, and then—on pure instinct—you grab Loki by the lapels of his suit and pull him toward you.

Before he can protest, your lips press against his, your back hitting the wall as you lean into him. His body stiffens for a split second, but then he catches on. His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers curling slightly as he leans into the kiss, matching your urgency with surprising ease.

Your heart hammers in your chest, not just from the danger but from the sudden, electric sensation of Loki’s mouth on yours. His lips are soft yet commanding, his touch both calculated and possessive as he shifts his body to shield you further from view.

“What in the Nine Realms are you doing?” he whispers against your lips, his tone more intrigued than accusatory.

“Keeping us alive,” you murmur back, your voice barely audible as the footsteps approach.

The targets pass by slowly, their footsteps deliberate. You can feel their gaze sweep over you, but you don’t dare look. Instead, you pour every ounce of focus into the act, your fingers curling into the fabric of Loki’s jacket as you deepen the kiss just enough to sell it.

Loki seems to relish the role, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. His thumb brushes against your waist, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold.

A voice interrupts the moment, sharp and disapproving. “This is hardly the place for such displays.”

You part from Loki abruptly, your face hot as you turn to face the source of the scolding. One of the gala’s staff members, an older man in a crisp uniform, stands a few feet away, his expression one of polite disapproval.

“My apologies,” you say quickly, straightening your mask and trying to appear appropriately chastised. “We got… carried away.”

Loki, ever the performer, offers a sheepish smile that’s somehow more seductive than apologetic. “Forgive us. My wife and I have a difficult time restraining our passions.”

The staff member huffs, clearly unimpressed. “There are designated areas for such… activities. Keep it off the main floor.”

“Of course,” Loki replies smoothly, his hand still resting at the small of your back. “We’ll be more discreet.”

The staff member mutters something under his breath before walking away, and you exhale a shaky breath, your heart still racing. The targets are gone, having paid you no more than a passing glance. The plan worked.

You glance up at Loki, whose expression is unreadable behind his mask. “That was quick thinking,” he says finally, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was survival,” you retort, stepping out of his hold and straightening your dress. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smirks, adjusting his own mask with an air of casual arrogance. “Too late for that, darling. I’m afraid you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”

You glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Loki. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Ah, but you see,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “now I’m more motivated than ever to see this mission through. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll need to use that particular tactic again.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him as you head back toward the main event. But as much as you want to dismiss his words, the lingering warmth of his kiss—and the way your body seemed to respond to him—stays with you, making it harder to focus than you’d like.

Loki follows close behind, his footsteps quiet but his presence impossible to ignore. And though neither of you speaks it aloud, there’s an unspoken awareness between you now—an understanding that something has shifted. Whether that’s a good thing or a dangerous one, only time will tell.

The ride back to the Avengers Tower is quieter than you expect, though tension hangs in the air, thick and unyielding. The mission was a success; you and Loki gathered enough intel to pinpoint the criminals’ next move and their precise location. As Tony pilots the jet, he and Natasha pore over the information, already strategizing for the intervention. Steve listens intently, his expression serious, while Bruce sits stiffly in his seat, keeping his distance from Loki, though the god seems entirely unfazed.

You sit across from Loki, your mask now discarded, but the memory of the gala’s events lingers. Every stolen glance, every near-discovery, and every moment you spent pressed against him still simmers in the back of your mind. You can feel his eyes on you, and though you refuse to look at him, your body betrays you, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Quite the evening,” Loki says suddenly, his voice smooth and low. His tone carries the same playful edge it always does, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, hungrier.

“Successful, at least,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you glance at him. “We accomplished what we came to do.”

“Indeed,” he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Though I dare say the evening held more… unexpected delights than anticipated.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Steve interrupts.

“Focus, you two,” he says sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but he falls silent, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied air. You cross your arms, willing yourself to ignore him, though the memory of his kiss lingers, stubborn and persistent.

When you return to the Tower, the debriefing is quick and efficient. Tony projects the data you and Loki retrieved, detailing the location of the deal and the criminals’ schedule. The team agrees to strike at dawn, using the element of surprise to their advantage. As plans take shape, you feel a flicker of relief. The night’s tension will soon give way to action, and with any luck, this mission will end successfully.

Once the meeting adjourns, you catch Loki’s eye. “Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“As you wish,” he replies, rising gracefully from his seat.

The walk to his quarters is quiet at first. The Tower feels oddly still in the late hours, the hallways dimly lit. You lead the way, your mind spinning as you try to push away the lingering heat of the gala—the dance, the kiss, the way his hands felt on you. Loki walks beside you, his presence magnetic as ever, his gaze lingering on you even when you refuse to meet it.

When you reach his door, you stop, turning to face him. “Goodnight, Loki,” you say, your voice firm but polite.

But before you can step away, he moves closer.

“You’ve been avoiding my eyes all evening,” he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur. “Why is that, darling? Did I do something to unnerve you?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the catch in your voice betrays you. “I’ve been focused on the mission, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You’ve been thinking about it. About us. About the way I touched you, held you, kissed you.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, and you take a step back, your back hitting the wall. He follows, closing the distance until he’s mere inches away, his tall frame towering over you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You felt it, too—the spark, the fire. I see it in your eyes, Y/N. You want me just as much as I want you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Because he’s right. No matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, the truth is undeniable now, burning in every corner of your being.

His hand rises to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into his touch, your resolve crumbling as the need overtakes you. Loki’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he realizes your answer.

With a groan, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the one at the gala. This kiss is raw, urgent, and unrestrained, a culmination of every unspoken word and every stolen glance. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

And to his surprise—and yours—you kiss him back with just as much passion. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the moment. The world falls away, leaving only the heat of his touch and the hunger in his kiss.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. Loki’s hands remain on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as if he’s afraid you might pull away.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender.

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his again, silencing any words with a kiss that speaks volumes. For now, words don’t matter. All that matters is this—this moment, this connection, this fire that neither of you can deny anymore.

And for the first time, neither of you tries to.

The Tower feels different now, quieter in the wake of the mission’s success. The criminals have been apprehended, their operation dismantled, and SHIELD has taken over for the cleanup. But despite the victory, a strange tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fury and Thor are locked in discussions about Loki’s fate, and you and Loki are left waiting in his room, suspended in uncertainty.

The silence between you is unlike any other you’ve shared before. It’s not sharp with banter or charged with playful tension; it’s softer, quieter, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

You sit on the edge of the small couch by the window, gazing out at the city lights glittering against the dark sky. Loki leans against the desk, his long fingers idly toying with the edge of a book. For once, he’s still—not prowling or pacing, not filling the room with his restless energy.

“They’re taking their time,” you murmur, your voice cutting through the silence.

“They always do,” Loki replies, though his tone lacks its usual sarcasm.

You glance at him, studying his profile. He looks calm, almost serene, but you’ve spent enough time with him to see through the mask. The faint furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands grip the book just a little too tightly—they all betray him.

“They’ll make the right decision,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t look at you. “The right decision,” he repeats, the words laced with bitterness. “That depends entirely on who is defining it.”

You sigh, standing and moving closer to him. “Loki, you helped. You could’ve run at any point during this mission, but you didn’t. That has to count for something.”

His lips twist into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And do you think that will sway Fury or my brother? Do you think they’ll forget what I’ve done? The chaos, the destruction?”

“They don’t have to forget,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “But they can see that you’re not the same person who attacked New York. You’ve changed, Loki.”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, and for a moment, something raw flashes in his eyes—something vulnerable and uncertain. “Have I?”

You place your hand over his, stilling his restless movements. “Yes. You have. I see it. And if they can’t, then that’s their failure, not yours.”

The room falls into silence again, but this time, it feels different. Loki’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours as he exhales slowly.

“What do you think they’ll decide?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But whatever happens, we’ll face it. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, the mask falls away entirely. You see the man beneath—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope he doesn’t dare acknowledge.

“You say that as if you’ll still be by my side when this is over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t hesitate. “I will be.”

His hand tightens on yours, his eyes holding yours as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, his other hand rising to cradle your face.

“If this is to be the last time we’re alone,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, “then let it be a moment worth remembering.”

Your heart aches at the words, at the vulnerability he’s showing. But you don’t argue. Instead, you lean into him, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is different this time. It’s not urgent or hungry but slow and lingering, filled with a quiet desperation. His lips move against yours as if savoring every second, every touch, every taste. His hands are gentle, one cradling your cheek while the other rests on your waist, anchoring you to him.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he holds you like you’re something fragile and precious, in the way his touch feels like both a promise and a farewell.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and the world outside feels impossibly far away.

“No matter what they decide,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “you’re not alone. You never will be.”

For a long moment, Loki doesn’t speak. Then he nods, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words so quiet you almost miss them.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the world outside fade away. For now, there’s no SHIELD, no judgment, no uncertain future. There’s only this—this moment, this connection, this fragile yet unbreakable bond.

And for now, that’s enough.

The knock at the door comes like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile stillness you and Loki have wrapped yourselves in. You tense in his arms, and his grip on you tightens briefly before he lets you go, stepping back as though putting distance between you is the only way to shield himself from what’s coming.

You take a deep breath and move to answer the door, Loki trailing behind you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the imposing figures of Nick Fury and Thor. Fury’s face is unreadable, his single eye piercing as it moves between you and Loki. Thor’s expression is graver than you’ve ever seen it, a heaviness in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“May we come in?” Fury asks, his voice clipped.

You nod, stepping aside to let them enter. Loki lingers near the window, his posture deceptively casual as he leans against the wall. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl faintly against his sides.

Fury and Thor take positions near the center of the room, both of them standing tall and commanding. Thor’s gaze lingers on Loki, a mix of concern and judgment flashing across his face.

“We’ve reached a decision,” Fury begins, his tone as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t an easy one, considering everything Loki has done in the past and the risks he poses in the future.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you glance at Loki. He’s staring at Fury now, his expression a careful mask of indifference.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Thor says, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your actions during this mission have proven that you are capable of aiding Midgard without causing harm. However, they do not erase the destruction you have wrought.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “How magnanimous of you, brother. Do get to the point.”

Thor’s jaw tightens, but he presses on. “You will not be returned to Asgard’s dungeons. Instead, you will remain here, under the supervision of SHIELD and the Avengers. Your movements will be restricted, and any deviation from the terms of your parole will result in severe consequences.”

Fury nods. “Think of it as probation. You step out of line, you’re done. No exceptions.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding through you despite the harshness of their words. Loki isn’t going back to Asgard’s prison. He isn’t being taken away.

Loki, however, seems less than impressed. “So, I am to be your prisoner still, but with a longer leash?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Thor says, his tone softening slightly. “To prove that you are more than your past mistakes.”

Loki’s smirk fades, and for a moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. He looks away, his gaze drifting to the window.

“And what role do I play in this… probation?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“You’ll assist the Avengers as needed,” Fury says bluntly. “Your skills are… useful, when not being used to destroy things.”

“Charming,” Loki mutters.

Fury ignores the comment, turning his attention to you. “As for you, Y/N, you’ll remain his primary handler. You’ve proven capable of keeping him in check, and frankly, you’re the only one he seems remotely willing to listen to.”

The weight of the responsibility settles over you, but you nod firmly. “Understood.”

Thor steps forward then, his gaze fixed on Loki. “Do not squander this chance, brother. It may be the only one you are given.”

Loki meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll endeavor not to disappoint you, Thor.”

The words are polite, but there’s a sharpness to them, a bitterness that hasn’t faded. Thor watches him for a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave. Fury follows, but not before giving you a pointed look.

“Keep him in line,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

The room falls into silence again, heavier now than before. You turn to Loki, who remains by the window, his back to you.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “It seems I’m to be your ward indefinitely. I hope you’re prepared for the burden.”

You take a step closer, your heart aching at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. “Loki… this is a second chance. They didn’t have to give you that.”

He turns to face you, his expression guarded. “A second chance to serve as their pet sorcerer, you mean. To be tolerated, not trusted.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, moving closer still. “It’s a chance to prove them wrong. To show them who you really are.”

“And who is that, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dropping. “Who do you think I really am?”

You hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. “I think you’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s made mistakes, but someone who’s still capable of doing good. Of being… more.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles—a quiet, almost bitter sound.

“You are a strange woman, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. “But perhaps that’s what I need.”

You smile faintly, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’ll never have to face this alone, Loki. Not as long as I’m here.”

He gazes at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and tender.

“Then we’re even,” you reply, your lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, his smirk softens into something more genuine. And as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, the weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.