#also i will kill the mcu with my bare hands
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houseofhyde · 1 month ago
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last train home. ii. homesick
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pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader mcu timeline. post-thunderbolts synopsis. as bucky's professional life hits an all time high, his personal life takes a nosedive into tragic territory. after a night of networking and the announcement of a lawsuit, he finds himself breaking rule #2: don't walk you home. read part 1 here ! warnings. no use of y/n, ex!reader, lawyer!reader, exes to ??? , exes with feelings, angst, fluff, mutual pining ( so bad i feel physically sick writing it ), alcohol consumption, nonsexual nudity, bucky has one (1) sexual thought, diva alpine makes her official debut, bucky is still down bad, he is also still serving stalker realness, no sambucky divorce, thunderbolts* spoilers!!! reader inclusivity. she/her pronouns, has hair ruffled by wind ( but no explicit mention of length, texture, or colour ) word count. 6.2k hyde’s input. "darling hold my hand" nothing beats a jet2 holiday! and right now you can save 50 pounds per person! that's 200 pounds off for a family of 4! read on ao3.
There is an ache in Bucky’s arm.
It has been there since this morning, blue eyes opening to white ceilings above, wooden floors below, and the beginning hum of a pain that would last all day. He and agony are no stranger to one another, having walked side by side now for years, decades, a whole century. This time it is different, though. This time, it is stemming from his left arm.
That does not stop him from throwing his entire weight behind the swing of his other arm.
“Don’t need you going easy on me, Barnes,” Sam grits through his teeth, body stance signalling he is prepared to strike. “Use that damn robo-arm of yours so I can beat you even at your best.”
Sam’s delivery is sharper than his. Harder. No hurt quells his strength.
“Can’t,” is Bucky’s simple explanation before he is tensing his muscles and awaiting the chance to swing once more. “Got this pain in it.”
Sam gets the chance to bat again, before him, and the impact echoes even through netted walls.
“Could be phantom limb syndrome,” his voice is monotone, devoid of interest despite the side glance he spares him. This is how it has always been between them, a friendship founded on the pretence of nonchalance and unexpressed loyalty — even now, as recent events put it to the test and force them to butt heads, exchange blows. “Torres was telling me about some physical therapist a few weeks ago, could pass her number onto you.”
In place of a response, Bucky’s next hit strikes a little harder. He regrets it nearly instantly, jaw clenching as the throbbing sensation burrows itself deeper into his shoulder, beating in sync with the heart inside his chest.
“Don’t give me that look,” Sam warns, arms curling up atop his shoulders before landing a devastating blow.
Bucky lets the wooden bat slip out of his grasp and clatter to the ground. Hands find hips while his gaze locks onto Sam through threaded metal, who is too focused on his next target to even spare him a glance. “What look?”
“That look. The one where you get all frowny and look at me like you’re trying to kill me with your mind.”
“Would you rather I kill you with my fists?”
“I’d like to see you and that sore arm try. Watch ou-” He barely gets the warning out before Bucky cuts him off, vibranium arm effortlessly catching the baseball hurtling full-speed ahead at his face while his eyes don’t move an inch away from Sam.
Alongside the ache in his shoulder, Bucky had woken up to two messages: an unknown address, followed by meet me @ 12.00, need batting practice. With the tension between them these past three weeks having grown thicker than syrup, and the weight of the unaddressed Avengers issue threatening to flatten the sanctity of their friendship, Bucky had half expected to be the target of Sam’s batting practice. Relief is not a big enough word to describe what overcame him when he showed up and found two separate batting cages booked and awaiting the pair.
It is not from lack of trying that the heroics topic has gone undiscussed. Bucky has tried to bring it up, time and time again, from the very first of Sam’s calls he answered post-Void. Post-you. Post-those goddamn shoes. Sam never let him get more than a word out, suddenly cutting the call short, or being pulled away to train his falcon protégé, or any excuse under the sun he could come up with to walk away from the conversation, leaving Bucky to sink deeper into the guilt of silence.
Sam’s avoidance is a ticking timebomb that has long outran its countdown and threatens to explode any time now.
“I’m serious, Buck. I know you got that weird, broody shtick, and you ain’t the biggest fan of any therapy but there’s no court order forcing you to go this time, just me. One session won’t kill you,” too busy talking, Sam misses the next ball fired his way, striking out for the sake of chastising Bucky with a plea to accept help. “At least give Shuri a call, could be a fault with the arm.”
The stern expression on Sam’s face is too familiar and, for a moment, Bucky swears he sees that same worry Steve used to look at him with. The same worry you looked at him with when he showed up at your door, tear tracks running down your face and his hands around your waist.
The question weasels its way out of him before he can think better of it, “D’you see her much?”
“Who? Shuri?” A moment for silence, realisation. There is only one name that Bucky will not speak. “Oh. Oh. Yeah, I see her enough.”
“Recently?”
“Yes, recently. Why the sudden interrogation, Sherlock?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Another ball fires in his direction. Bat still on the ground, he steps out the way and lets it crash against fencing behind him, a noise that rings throughout the whole batting cage. It is not loud enough to silence Bucky’s thoughts. “I just wondered… You know if she’s been seeing anyone?”
“Romantically or like… Hallucinations?”
“Romant- Why would it be hallucinations?”
“I don’t know, you tell me, man. Didn't you and your little team just defeat the whole of New York City’s trauma flashbacks, or something?” The force Sam puts behind his next bat would have anyone relieved to hear he never got a dose of the super soldier serum, out of fear for how unstoppable he would have been with it. A strange sense of pride for him blooms in Bucky’s chest, immediately dampened by an onslaught of guilt. “Thanks for the invite, by the way.”
The bomb finally detonates.
Breathing does not seem to come easier to Bucky, like he expected. Instead, the shame multiplies and the voice that tells him he is in over his head with this whole hero thing grows louder. “Look, Sam-”
“There’s something I wanna tell you about, I really do. But I can’t yet, legally. So you just gotta believe me when I say this, Buck,” Sam is looking at him through the batting cage, and a part of him wants to scream that he is sorry. Unfortunately, Bucky has not yet learned to stomach that word, it does not come easy when there are so many reasons to say it. “It  ain’t personal, it’s just business.”
The bat finds its way back into Bucky’s hands. It is easier to endure the ache in his arm in the name of whacking another baseball than it is to open up. The pair let silence settle back in, but the tension is lighter, less smothering. Once a blanket of shame, now a mere handkerchief poking out their pockets, its presence known yet easily ignored.
“So me and you…” There is a nonchalance in his voice that does not match the speed his thoughts are running at. “We’re good?”
“Me and you? Good,” Sam is back on the ball, eyes trained ahead and barely sparing him a glance. “Captain America and the Winter Soldier? Not good.”
There is guilt, but at least they are good.
Good is not great.
Good is fragile.
But Bucky can work with ‘good’.
There is a rhythm of sounds between them. The constant and timed clashes of wooden bats against leather balls. The occasional grunt from either man, when too much force is put behind a swing and they pull a muscle in their ageing backs, usually followed by a whistle of approval from the other watching as they deliver a swing worthy of being drafted by the MLB. Eventually, Bucky feels comfortable enough to intercept their shared music with a chuckle.
“Call us by our made up names again and I’ll ask Sarah to dinner.”
“She knows better than to date someone past their sell-by,” Sam bites back, an up-turn itching at his lips that gives away his own comfort in finding a moment of camaradarie between them. “Besides, it’s not like your dusty heart’s even for sale.”
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Bucky finally finds a breath.
In truth, the breath finds him, with a splitting headache born from the grating voices of strangers and an itch in his skin begging him to flee from prying eyes. Solace appears on the horizon, an open door leading onto an empty balcony, his own little refuge away from all the glitz and glam of the gala.
The event had been Valentina’s idea, something about needing to officially introduce the public to the New Avengers — he had a tendency of tuning out most things she said, the cadence of her words doing wonders to his easily irritated nerves. Unfortunately, him and Ava voting no on the matter was made mute against the other’s resounding yes. Fortunately, though Alexei gave a passionate plea, the team were unified in their vote against showing up in their superhero outfits.
As metal fingers loosen at his tie, he is not too sure the tailored suit feels any more natural.
Ice clinks together as he takes a sip of his drink, the burn of whiskey pairing well with the cool breeze. Clouds swirl above, painting the night sky in hues of grey and lending a soft rumble of moving air as background to Bucky’s brooding.
Unsureness stains all his decisions lately. Beneath the title of Avenger and the eyes looking to him to lead, there is a desire to be useful, helpful, good. Blood stains his history, perhaps now he can try to make things even, make things better, save two lives for every one he has taken. But, would that be enough? Is there such a thing as ‘enough’ when it comes to the Winter Soldier?
Valentina certainly thinks so, branding his name and placing it top of the list for every press release she organises. Steve Roger’s oldest friend, Captain America’s original side-kick, now leading his own team in honour of his lost buddy! She knows how to spin a pretty tale, but Bucky still feels bile burn at his throat when he thinks too hard about it.
There was a time he had wanted to leave the fight behind, bury the Winter Soldier alongside Steve, return to living as James Buchanan Barnes. Then he woke up to his hand around your throat and reality slapped him in the face: the fight is as much a part of him as he is a part of it.
Footsteps are approaching. The pronounced click of heels meeting marble flooring has his shoulders tensing in a pavlovian response, pulling in a deep breath and turning to see whichever journalist, business woman, or government official has come to harass his momentary respite. The glass pressed to his lips lowers before he can even take a sip for confidence, and his eyes cannot help but widen as they take in the approaching figure.
A vision wrapped in blue, one delicate leg peeks out the slit of your dress every second step you take towards him, one hand clutching a purse while the other holds a dirty martini captive. There is a distinct cloudiness to the drink and a garnish of three olives. Bucky does not mean to find solace in such mundane facts, yet he cannot help that it makes him think of better times: two bar stools sat side-by-side, the world around you fading to a blur as Bucky let himself be absolved by your tender heart. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as though there is still a trace of you on them. He used to complain about your drink’s briny essence but it never once stopped him from kissing you, no matter how olive-y you tasted.
He thinks of kissing you, now.
Crossing the invisible barrier of steps between you, pulling you closer, and letting his mouth melt into yours. You could breathe hope back into his lungs, shake the chip off of his shoulder, and prepare him for another round of blabbering fools, just to count down the hours until you would let him take you home and pry you both out of the fancy regalia before collapsing in a heap of giggles and moans atop whatever surface was closest. But that is not something Bucky gets to do anymore.
You are not even really here, are you? Just a cruel fantasy, a figment of torture created by his own imagination, sent to tease him with a part of the life he could have had if he was not so…  Him. The illusion is good, Bucky cannot deny it. So real, he can smell the salt of your drink, see the glittering gloss on your lips, hear your voice.
“What kind of host hides from his own party?”
For a second, Bucky holds onto the hope that you are a product of his mind, so he can try visualising your arms wrapping around him and pulling him into the calming scent of your shampoo. Once the moment passes, however, he is back to staring at a very real and present you, with his eyes wide and his hands shaky.
The ice in his drink clashes once again as he takes a swig.
“What can I say?” He hates how his voice comes out, like prey backed into a corner by its predator. “I live to disappoint.”
“Is that the new slogan?” You do not miss a beat, smiling his way as the words come out. “The New Avengers: Here to Disappoint!"
“Ouch,” a frown creases over his forehead and a pout has creeped its way onto his lips. He masks it with another sip. “I forget how snarky you are with a martini in your hand.”
You raise your glass at him, both eyebrows jumping up before you welcome in a mouthful of the cocktail. A stain marks where your lips have touched. Bucky has never been jealous of a glass before.
“You used to lo-” a simple slip of the tongue. You catch it before it can do any real damage. “Like that snark.”
“Who says I ever stopped?” He cannot keep looking down at the lipstick print, but gazing into your eyes threatens a hazard beyond his control. He settles for admiring the whips of your hair, dancing in the night’s breeze. Your lack of response leaves him needing to clarify. “Liking it.”
Silence rushes in with the wind.
Nothing about the world around you is truly quiet. The streets below are a symphony of beeping horns and chattering strangers. Classical music floats out from Valentina’s PR extravaganza, pairing awfully with the authentic noise of New York City. But, for a moment, sharing space upon a small balcony, a bubble of tranquility surrounds you both.
Bucky breathes easier than he has in a while.
“Congratulations on the whole Avengers thing, James,” your sudden sincerity falls on thankless ears, a snort of laughter his only response for you.“I mean it! Stop laughing!”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry!” Apologies creep in through clusters of laughter, bubbling up from his chest and overpowering the sound of the world around you. As he doubles over and nearly stumbles, your hand is quickly there to steady him, a gentle aid holding onto his left arm. The realisation of how close you are to touching the vibranium part of him — nothing but his suit in the way — is enough to kill his amusement. “Just… It’s still new. Doesn’t feel real yet. Or sound right, honestly.”
Trust had never come easily to Bucky, even before he lost an arm and his freedom. With you though, it is different. It always has been, from the day you first sat down across from him, freshly touched down in Wakanda and presenting him with the papers that would put him on the path to being pardoned. Even back then, no more than a stranger doing her job, you wanted to bring Bucky home, back to the streets he grew up in and the city he left behind.
He could not be blamed for falling, not when you made it so easy for his restless soul to seek peace in your presence. When the court ruled in his favour, he found himself wishing you were worse at your job, if only to make the process last a little longer, to keep having a reason to need you around beyond his own selfish desires.
“I’m proud of you, but I’m not surprised,” so softly spoken, it is barely a whisper. Even without the super soldier hearing, Bucky is sure his ears could tune out an entire stadium just for you. “I always saw you as a hero. Guess I never realised you needed such an official title to make you believe it.”
Bucky’s eyes finally find yours. Constellations await him, reflected in your pupils and tempting him closer. His feet move on their own accord, inches feeling like miles as they shuffle across the marbled floor. Despite the sorrow in your gaze, you are shooting a smile his way, more than he deserves. It is your turn to remove some of the distance, reaching over the space between you both to gently clink your glass against his own.
“To new beginnings,” you toast, and it throws him back in time.
Nearly three years ago, tucked away inside a bar in Brooklyn. Him in a wrinkled suit, you still dressed for court. Both of you smiling, victory blessing your tongue as you toast the very same words to Bucky’s pardoning, while sourness stains his throat at the thought of saying goodbye.
The wind whisks him back into the present, back onto the balcony, where the rumbling above grows more violent and goosebumps prick at the exposed skin of your arms. A rogue lock of hair falls over your face. His hand is fast to correct it, reaching up to brush it back. He rarely gets the chance to see your face anymore, he will not allow anything to deny him the full view of it.
Slipping down to your cheek, his hand lingers. There is barely any gloss left on your lips. Would you mind him stealing the rest?
He wants to say your name.
Something else comes out instead. 
“You look beau-”
“Bucky, there you are! Val wants everyone present for her spee…” His hand falls back down to his side as you turn your face away and confront the sight of Mel and five familiar figures appearing at the balcony’s opening “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt! If you could just… finish up and then join us that would be great! Or just join us now, I’m sure Val wouldn’t mind you being seen as a taken man-”
“You weren’t interrupting anything, don’t worry,” you cut Mel off. Your heels click as you take a few steps back from him, hand smoothing over the skirt of your dress and eyes looking anywhere but his own. “He’s all yours.”
This time, he does say your name.
You do not acknowledge it.
Instead, you set down your glass atop the balcony ledge and begin to dig through your purse.
“You’ve just made my job a lot easier, actually. I’m here on behalf of my client, Sam Wilson,” a poignant pause marks the moment you find what you are looking for, hand extracting a folded yellow envelope. You do not even look at him as you hand it over to Mel. “I’m afraid you’re all being sued for an infringement of copyright. We’ll see you in court.”
The ache in his shoulder doubles, while the knife in his heart pierces right through into his back.
It ain’t personal, it’s just business, Sam’s words echo in his ears.
It feels pretty personal to him as you grab your drink off the ledge, down a final sip, and walk away, disappearing among the crowd of faces Bucky does not want around. He just wants you to come back to the balcony, to before Mel and the others interrupted, to when he could pluck the stars out of your eyes and let himself foolishly think you came to this gala for him.
“She reminds me of my first love,” Alexei muses, unknowingly twisting the knife even deeper. “So beautiful, but so very mean.”
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Bucky is vaguely aware of the phone ringing in his pocket.
Answering is not at the top of his priority list. The swaying blue fabric across the street holds his attention, instead. For every step he takes, you manage a swaying three. He had not intended to watch over your journey home, just like he had not meant to leave the gala.
From the moment Valentina’s speech had ended — an exhausting 17 minutes after it began — he searched for you among the crowd. Every time he spotted you in the distance, talking with strangers or sipping on a new martini, you slipped through his fingers like sand. Gone before he could even hold you, disappearing around corners and sinking beneath waves of faces. When he finally got close enough to call your name, you had already unknowingly led him halfway down the block. Though he swore, after showing up at your door three weeks ago, to no longer bother you with his silent presence, Bucky could not force himself back into the party, not with you towing the blurry line of sobriety. So he’s keeping his distance whilst keeping you safe, walking side by side yet divided by the road between each pavement.
Irritation is scratching at the door to his mind, an ire that bubbles in his loins as the night grows colder and your shoulders remain bare, nothing to shield your skin from the biting winds of winter. What little chance there is of the alcohol polluting your system keeping you warm is thrown out the window when a thunderous rumble creeps overhead and the heavens open up.
The first drop of rain has barely touched his skin before he is diving out into the road, feet racing to cross over gravel as a car blows its horn at him. You are none the wiser, oblivious to the change of weather in your continued stroll. By the time he steps foot onto your side of the street, polka dots of water smatter your pretty dress and your footsteps land a little more cautiously.
Rain falls cold on his back as he tugs off his suit jacket.
“Bucky!” Sunshine incarnate beneath a stormy sky, you are radiant joy as he shelters you beneath dark wool. A ditsy smile takes over your features as two hands reach for his face, smushing his cheeks a little more harshly than you intend to in your drunken stupor. “You’re so handsome.”
“And you’re so drunk,” he muses, fighting against your unsteady figure to keep you out of the rain.
“I am!” You gasp, divulging into a fit of giggles. “Thank your new boss for providing an open bar.”
“Valentina is not our boss,” Bucky is trying not to think too much about how easily you still slot against his side, like a puzzle piece he has been missing for too long.
“Aww, our!” The excitement in your voice is unadulterated, so free of mockery that it sends his heart into a frenzy and burns the tips of his ears. After drinking past the snarky phase, Bucky’s favourite version of drunk-you arrives: happy, excitable, unguarded. Luckily, the passing of time has not changed everything. “You’re already talking like a team, it’s adorable.”
Beneath the sanctuary of his jacket, Bucky guides you home, a journey so ingrained in his bones that he barely needs to pay attention to what turns you both take, too busy admiring the way remnants of rain dance upon your eyelashes, and your grinning lips no longer possess any gloss, left behind on glass rims as evidence of your presence at the gala. 
When his mind tries to remind him of your other memorabilia, the putrid shade of the yellow folder, he is quick to shut it out.
By the time you both reach your apartment building, the jacket is soaked right through and the pair of you are a rain-covered mess. One struggled step up drenched cobbled stairs is all it takes for Bucky’s protectiveness to spike, shrugging his jacket back on before reaching for your side.
“Darling,” the word curls off his tongue so easily neither of you have the chance to take note of it. “Hold my hand.”
Before you can reach for his left side, he has already threaded the fingers of his right hand with yours. With a supportive squeeze, he watches you take the next step towards your building’s door, shadowing your every move with his own, a vibranium palm hovering over your lower back, ready to catch you should you fall.
Through a heavy door and straight into the elevator from hell that shudders enough to make the soldier feel uneasy, you show no qualms in letting your body rest against his, starry eyes blinking back clouds of sleep as the tin-box deathtrap creeps up towards your floor. One ding and even more careful steps later, Bucky is steadying your waist and plucking the keys out your hands.
“You have to-”
“Pull the handle towards me,” the door opens on cue, revealing a single warm light cast out from a lamp in your living room and a white haired feline prowling curiously towards the entry. “I remember.”
Just as Bucky is trying to conjure up the most formal, emotionally unaffected voice to say goodbye, your hand latches onto him once more and tugs him into your apartment. His mind is begging him to protest, to be rational and get the hell out of your home before he sees something — someone — he really does not want to see. His heart leads him, though, aching to see you to bed safe as he watches you nearly trip over yourself in a fight to kick off your shoes.
Freed from your heels, you let yourself fall down to your knees while Bucky neatly tidies them away into your shoe rack and eases some of the tension in his shoulders — there is no sign of any men’s shoes.
“You brought her in,” it is not a question, but a statement, thrown your way as he watches you envelope a familiar cat into your arms.
The last time Bucky had seen her, she was still a kitten, too skittish to let him pick her up yet curious enough to approach him on the street and, eventually, eat out of his palm.
“She brought herself in, actually,” the giddiness in your voice has fallen into something more gentle, nose nuzzling into the fur of her head. “Came home from work one day and found her scratching at my door. It took her a few days to trust me but now we’re family. Aren’t we, Alpine?”
A knot is forming in his throat while he watches you both cuddle into one another, a white tail curling around your wrist and a gentle purring filling the silence between you.
“She must have followed a trail of your scent to my door,” you look up at him from the floor, smiling like you are not breaking his heart with your words. It is an ache he cannot even accept, tainted in his own guilt for leaving in the first place, for not being able to trust himself to stay and keep you safe. “I think she missed you. I decided to keep her, so we could mourn you together.”
You are up and walking away from him before he can fully make sense of the pain overtaking his chest. He watches the white feline perch herself back onto a cat-post, eyes as blue as his own staring back at him curiously. Something crashes to the ground from the right — beyond your bedroom door — and it kicks him back into gear, crossing the threshold of your room only to find you balancing on one foot and surrounded by a pile of clothes, freshly fallen out the top shelf of your closet.
He forgot how much of a hazard drunk-you can be, a threat unto yourself with every split decision you make.
“Aha!” You dive down into the pile of miscellaneous clothes, eager hand grabbing up whatever you had been hoping to find. “There you are!”
Bucky feels sick.
Worse than sick.
If the shoes were a sucker punch in the chest, then this is a 12 gauge shotgun fired right at his heart.
Clutched in your hand sits a plain black t-shirt, no doubt left behind by the owner of those damn shoes or whatever other gentleman caller had come knocking at your door and crawling into your bed. Curiosity may have saved Alpine, but it is killing him, burying him alive beneath words he has no right to speak aloud and actions that led you both to this situation: worse than strangers, as untethered as ghosts. If your relationship died with his hand around your throat, it is back with a vengeance to make sure it is him who chokes this time.
“Bucky,” and you are still saying his name like nothing is wrong, like there are no tears brimming in his eyes. Or maybe it is that you have your back to him, one hand struggling to grab at the zipper on your dress. “Do you mind?”
Yes would be the smart answer.
I have to get back to the gala would be even smarter.
Bucky is not very smart.
As he pinches the zipper between two fingers and gently drags it down, he tries not to think about what hands helped you into the dress. Your own, or his? The faceless stranger that Bucky has no right to hate, yet a piece of him does so, anyway.
“It was unfair,” he can hear the pout on your lips.
“What?”
Have you noticed how slowly he is undoing your zipper, pausing every few teeth and admiring each inch of skin he is revealing?
“Our breakup!” When he pauses this time, it is out of shock, caught off guard to hear you so plainly address the rupture of your relationship. “I wanted to live with the delusion of you someday missing me so much you’d have to get blackout drunk and call me… But no, it has to be the world's cruelest joke that your freaky soldier serum won’t let alcohol affect you!”
The zipper reaches the bottom and the dress slips off you with an elegant ease, pooling at your feet and leaving you completely bare before him, only a lacy splash of white wrapped around your hips sparing you any kind of modesty.
What would happen, he wonders, if he reached out and touched you? Would you care, enough to slap him and tell him to get the hell out of your home? Or would you lean into him, relax, let him return to the territory of your skin and trace over every inch of you he already knows? It would not stop at touching, not if you let him. He would be selfish and need more of you, a thirst on his tongue that would not be satiated until the pair of you lay boneless on your mattress, entangled and incapable of being torn apart.
He is not brave enough to find out, not when you are clutching another man’s shirt in your hand.
“Didn’t need to get drunk to call you,” or miss you. He does that every day, sober.
“You called?” You are turning around to face him, unfazed by your state of undress. He tries to keep his eyes from wandering, but he is only a man and your breasts are inches away from him. “When?”
“S’while back… Maybe a year ago,” he can barely enunciate anymore, mind in overdrive as you and your curious eyes inch just that little bit closer. “You changed your number.”
“I did?” You gawk, and then your shoulders drop. “I did. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you call?”
He could tell you the truth, but what would it change? You are no longer his, at the end of the day, and the person to blame for that greets him every morning in the mirror.
You give no protest when he tugs the cotton from your hand, pliant in your pass over of the shirt. You just keep watching his face, searching for something he is not going to say.
“Arms up,” he commands and you obey.
The shirt slips over you like it was only ever meant to keep you safe, a perfect fit upon your rain-dampened skin. The very thing he will never be. Still, he cannot force himself to look away as you press your face into the sleeve, inhaling a lingering scent of musk.
The pair of you fall right back into an old rhythm, the tipsy dance to get you over to your bed and beneath the sheets is still the same as it used to be: you dragging your feet more than lifting them, Bucky’s hands hovering at your side awaiting a potential disaster, him pulling back your sheets, you tucking yourself beneath them. The only thing that has changed is he no longer crawls in beside you and pulls you against his chest. Now, he takes two steps back from the bedpost and watches you struggle to get comfortable.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” You do not see the way he freezes, hands too busy fluffing your pillow and tugging the bedsheets up to your chin. For a moment, he weighs the possibility of you having secretly developed telepathy in the past two years and thus having peaked into his mind at some point this evening. What you mumble next shatters the thought, but it only makes him feel worse. “You always used to kiss me when you thought I looked pretty.”
“You look beautiful,” he finally says, this time without the interruption of Mel and the rest of his team.
But you are already laid back on the pillow, eyes shut and arms curled around yourself, and his words fall on deaf ears.
It is better this way, less complicated. Even if it does not feel like it in his turbulent heart.
He makes it to your bedroom door quietly, avoiding pressing on the floorboards that he knows creak, but you stir as he flicks off the light, a gentle click all it takes to reawaken your mind.
“Bucky,” you call his name softly. He is wrestling with his desire to stay. Ask it of him and he is bound to fold. “Please don’t be angry at me.”
He thinks of that yellow folder, of Sam’s lawsuit, of the legal battle you have just declared against him this evening, at the very event that was meant to commemorate what everyone has told him is the greatest achievement in his life — they clearly do not know about all the times he has made you smile.
“I don’t know how to be angry,” his own voice is just as soft, scared to wake you completely. “Not when it comes to you, doll.”
“Good,” there is that word again. He is good with Sam, he is good with you. But he is not good with himself: his shoulder aches, his heart is heavy, and he is homesick for a home he walked away from. “It was you who left this shirt here, can’t get mad at me for wanting to keep a piece of you.”
Just like that, you slip back out of consciousness and leave him to wrestle with the weight of what you just said.
When he reaches your apartment door and grabs at the handle, something brushes against his leg. Blue eyes stare up at him from the floor and, when he remains still, the white cat pushes her head against him again.
Her fur is just as soft as he remembers, if not a little cleaner than her days on the street. You are taking good care of her, another piece of evidence that he is not needed in the picture. For either of you both.
Alpine meows, and he swears he hears a twinge of disapproval. 
“You take care of her too, yeah?” It is a heavy burden he is putting on the feline, trusting her to watch over the thing he holds dearest. He has no doubt she will do her best. “And maybe bite a few ankles, preferably men’s.”
Bucky still hears her meowing as he closes your front door.
His phone lights up — Valentina is calling, no doubt to berate him back to the gala.
He takes the train back to his apartment, instead, and crashes into a restless slumber, now painfully aware of the shirt missing in his drawers.
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+ extra hyde ! · propaganda i'm not falling for: the sambucky divorce · everyone say "thank you bucky" for being hot and tragic enough to bring me out of my +6 month long writer's block. · upcoming fics include: manchild inspired bucky smut, last train home part 3, an obiwan soulmate au oneshot (+20k), and another man's jealousy (15k)
243 notes · View notes
ninus9607 · 3 months ago
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Lights, Camera, Action! - Elizabeth Olsen
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Pairing(s): Elizabeth Olsen x Female! reader
Word count: 12,3K
tags: l content: slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, actress x actress, wlw MCU, smut, dominant! Lizzie, sub! reader, praise kink, possessive! Lizzie, hickeys & marks, dirty talk, soft smut, fluff, and smutpost-sex cuddles
AN: GUYS, I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, PLS FORGIVE ME FOR EVERY MISTAKE
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San Diego Comic-Con – Hall H
The lights in Hall H were brilliant, and the atmosphere was electric with expectation. I sat in my seat on the Marvel panel stage, my heart racing faster than it ever had on filming. This wasn't my first visit, but it was the first time anybody noticed I was here.
Two years ago, I played a "blink-and-you 'miss" character in Age of Ultron. A few lines. A powerful scene. A shadow in the midst of chaos. However, fans remembered. Somehow, they remembered.
I suppose Black Raven left a mark.
Kevin Feige came in close to the microphone, smirking as if he were about to unleash a bombshell. "Some of you might remember a mysterious character who appeared briefly in Age of Ultron."
A renegade force, morally gray and extremely strong... "A vampire who left the fight before the dust had settled."
Whispers spread across the room. The phones were already out. My name was already trending before he said anything.
"Well," he added, "I believe it's time she returned. This time, she's not hiding in the shadows.
He turned to face me. "Please welcome back Y/N Salvatore- returning as Y/C/N, also known as Black Raven, in Captain America: Civil War."
The audience exploded. I blinked under the stage lights, giving a little shocked smile as the room took me completely.
"I'm still trying to believe this is real," I added as the ovation went down. "The last time I came here, I got maybe three minutes of screen time and one stunt scene. Now I am here and just Wow!"
Laughter.
I looked down the table, and there she was. Elizabeth Olsen. Sitting a few chairs away and giving me that familiar half-smile. Soft and illegible. There's something more behind it. Curiosity. Recognition.
We hadn't shot anything together yet, not really. There was only one brief interaction in Ultron that never reached the final edit. But fans have been shipping our characters ever since. Perhaps it was the tension.
Perhaps it was the way my character had watched hers walk away from Sokovia, her face empty as if they had exchanged something neither of them could understand.
The Marvel team went on to other announcements, but I could sense excitement rising around me. Questions from the press. Fan art is already overwhelming social media. Speculation.
Wanda Maximoff and Black Raven are two shattered, deadly women on opposing sides of a conflict.
And somehow, they were destined to clash.
I looked across at Lizzie again.
She was still watching me.
God, I had no clue what was going to happen.
By the end of the panel, I felt like I was floating. The shouting of the audience, the dazzling glare of cameras, and the way supporters sang my name as if I'd always been one of them. As if I hadn't just slipped through the gaps in Ultron and nearly vanished for good.
Outside the hall, the air was dense and bustling. Fans flocked behind barriers with posters, comics, and custom art, and I foolishly attempted to stroll past secretly.
Did not work.
"Y/N! Over here!"
"Oh my god, Black Raven!"
"Please sign this!"
I looked down at a poster of my character, dark and majestic in the shadows, fangs barely visible, red flames curling around her fingers. They even got the cloak correctly. And the eyes—burning with something wild.
"I didn't even know people still cared," I said, surprised as I signed the edge.
"They never forgot you," a devoted fan muttered.
I continued signing. Posters. A sketch of Black Raven and Wanda holding hands and staring at one another like lovers. A shirt with the phrase, "I Do Believe In Killing The Messenger. Know Why? Because It Sends A Message." One female gave me a little plush replica of my character. I laughed so hard I almost cried.
That night, when I returned to my hotel room, the adrenaline hadn't even worn off. I threw off my shoes, opened a soda, and cuddled up on the bed in my huge con sweater. Just as I was going to cruise lazily on Instagram, a fresh notification appeared.
"Robert Downey Jr. added you to the group 'Avengers Assemble 💥'"
I blinked. Then blinked again.
A flood of messages came:
(RDJ) well well well. look who's back from the dead
 (Chris E.): about time
 (Tom H.): I've literally been waiting since I was twelve
 (Lizzie 🥀): welcome back, stranger
(ScarJo): don't read the fine print. you're already in too deep
 (Hemsworth 🍺): A VAMPIRE! I KNEW I LIKED YOU
I laughed into my pillow. What the hell is my life right now?
My fingers hovered over the group chat. I typed, deleted, and then finally sent:
 (You): wait... what exactly did I sign up for?
 (RDJ): That's cute. She thinks she has a choice.
(Lizzie 🥀): don't worry. you're safe with us.
 (Lizzie 🥀): ...mostly.
I bit my lip, rereading the last message. My heart did something strange. Probably just the Coke. Or the heat. On the other hand, Lizzie sent a winking emoji immediately after.
I hadn't even read the entire script yet. I wasn't sure where my character was headed. Whether Black Raven would fight with or against Wanda. Whether they were enemies or anything else.
The sun filtered through the hotel drapes, creating a golden and gentle glow. I lay there for a time, taking in the peaceful morning mood. My body hurt in that slow, wonderful manner after yesterday's rush of panels, autographs, and screaming fans. I should have felt tired. I should have grumbled, nestled further into the cushions, and requested for another five minutes.
But I did not.
Because this was the day.
This is my first official Marvel table read since Age of Ultron. My actual return. Not just a postscript. Not as a supporting character with two lines and a beautiful battle scene. But as a true player, Black Raven. People remember the vampire antiheroes.
I took a long shower, letting the water calm my worries, the steam wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Once dry, I stood in front of the closet for a little moment, just long enough to feel a flutter in my chest.
I wanted to feel like myself. But I also wanted to appear like I belonged here.
I put on cut black pants that hugged my waist well and made me feel quietly strong. A fresh white shirt was tucked in with a relaxed grace, and I layered on a lightweight, long camel coat that murmured gentle luxury.
Small gold hoops, silver rings, and a pair of glossy black loafers that catch the light. No logos. There's no chaos. Simply classic lines and calm assurance.
I left my hair down, brushed and elegant, with a single clip on the side to keep it out of my face. Makeup was clean, smooth, and very effortless. A little brow gel, a pop of color, and tinted lip balm.
I gazed into the mirror.
European subtlety with a biting undertone. That was me!
The studio sent a vehicle. Standard black SUV with silent driver and darkened windows. Very Marvel. I sat in the back with my coffee, pretending I wasn't sweating.
When I got to the lot, someone from production greeted me with a badge and a big smile. "They're all inside already. "You are sitting between Anthony and Lizzie."
"Lizzie?"
"Elizabeth Olsen."
"Cool," I blurted far too hastily. "Cool, cool, cool."
The door to the reading room opened, and I walked into a strange little dream. Long table. Dozens of chairs. Familiar faces, some I'd only seen in films, others I'd met briefly years before.
Scarlett Johansson gave me a wink and a nod. Sebastian Stan lifted his coffee as a toast. Chris Evans grinned and patted me on the back. "About damn time."
Then Lizzie.
She was already sitting, thumbing through the script, her hair in a loose braid, and a comfortable, oversized sweater flowing down one shoulder. She glanced up the instant I walked in, and her face brightened.
Like, genuinely lights up.
"Hey, stranger," she whispered quietly, rising to hug me.
I froze for a half-second. Just a second. Then I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She smelled like honey, coffee, and something warm that I couldn't identify.
"You look like you belong here," she said softly against my ear. "You ready to break hearts?"
"Only if you help," I said back.
She drew away, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn't identify.
We sat down. Anthony Mackie leaned in and said, "Just so you know, there are already fan edits of you two spreading."
Lizzie smiled without looking up. "I've seen them."
The reading started.
Tony had lines. So did Steve. But as the image transitioned to Wanda and Black Raven, Wanda stopped outside a decaying structure, her hand lifted in midair as Y/N came from the shadows. I could feel a shift in the collective reaction.
I read my line carefully, eyes fixed on the page. "Did you miss me, little witch?" My European accent went on.
And Lizzie... God! Lizzie's voice dropped an octave. "You were supposed to be dead."
I gazed at her. She stared at me.
The table remained still. Someone let out a faint whistle. Someone another said, "Y'all need a moment?"
We laughed. Just enough to release the stress.
But that moment lasted.
After the reading, everyone went for notes, coffee, and chaos. I found myself near the studio lot, seated on a low wall behind a shade tree, phone in hand, but forgotten. Lizzie stepped up with two iced lattes and offered one to me.
"You were incredible," she stated. "Like you never left."
She raised her head. "Still haven't read the whole script?"
I shake my head. "Trying to savor it. I don't want to learn everything too quickly."
She grinned slowly. "Then I will not spoil it. "But...you and I have some scenes."
"Oh?"  WHAT???????
"Some very close ones." ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MARVEL
My cheekbones warmed. "You say that like it's a problem."
"It's not." She stared me dead in the eyes, funny yet serious below. "Unless you make it one."
And before I could say anything else, before I could even think, she was walking away, sipping her drink, hips swaying like a goddess in worn jeans and an Avengers crew hoodie.
I stared after her, heart hammering like I'd just survived a stunt scene.
Welcome back to Marvel, I thought.
A few months later.
Most of the nervous butterflies had disappeared by this point. The set had become like a second home, filled with familiar voices and traditions. I wasn't simply a new girl anymore. Everyone made it simple.
Chris gave me the nicest bear hugs and always made sure I ate my lunch. Scarlett had the type of cool that made you want to better your game, yet she always welcomed me with a warm smile and a "Hey, superstar." Anthony Mackie was an utter menace - but in the most lovable manner possible. Paul Bettany kept asking me to read poems between takes, saying it was "very Black Raven of you."
And Robert? He was like my dad!
"And Lizzie..." Lizzie was something else completely.
She'd knock on my door, holding a coffee in one hand and a protein snack in the other, as if she knew just when I needed her. Her jokes were dry, her eyes mischievous, and I'd caught myself looking a bit too long on several occasions.
We had gotten close. She was close enough to connect her arm with mine as we headed to the set. My heart skipped a beat every time she leaned close to murmur something only I could hear.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
I simply didn't know whether she did.
That afternoon, I was sitting with one of the directors, Joe, just outside the soundstage. The sun was casting a wandering light on the edge of the asphalt lot as he ran through the following several days' sequences.
"So, for next week," Joe remarked, brushing through his tablet, "we have the rooftop scene. You and Wanda are alone. It's the first time your character truly opens up."
I tilted my head, wondering. "What kind of open up are we talking about?"
He grinned. "The slow-burning sort. The 'I might not trust the Avengers, but I trust you' type."
My face felt heated.
He caught it as he looked up. "You good with that?"
"Yeah. No, yes. I mean, it's a great scene," I said, flicking through my copy of the script. "So, it's just me and Lizzie on the rooftop. At night?"
Joe nodded. "Right after the dramatic battle sequence. You are both still startled. Then it's silent. That time when the city hums under you and there is no goal or strategy. Just—" He hesitated and grinned. "Just feelings."
I swallowed. "Right. Feelings."
I sat in my trailer, flipping over the script. The rooftop scene.
It wasn't romantic, officially. But it may be.
Wanda looks at Y/N with gentle eyes. Y/N does not flinch for the first time. They don't quite touch. But it is near. Too close. 
CMON Y/N, U GOT THIS! YOU ARE A TALENTED ACTRESS, DON'T U?
Interior Set – Rooftop at Night – Scene 57
When I arrived at the rooftop set, the wind machines were already rumbling. Lights positioned to resemble a dark skyline threw long shadows across the faux-concrete, and I adjusted the black leather of my outfit as I proceeded to my destination.
Lizzie was already there, in her deep red coat, gaze faraway and focused, and falling into Wanda's sorrow.
Joe made a few parting remarks off camera, but I hardly heard him. My fingertips brushed over the hilt of the false dagger on my thigh. The character's familiar weight slipped into my chest like a second skin. I wasn't Y/N Salvatore anymore. I was Black Raven.
"Ready?" the assistant director called.
"Rolling!" came from the sound.
"Slate in!"
The clack of the slate snapped, and then - 
"Action!"
I let my gaze fall to the city skyline in front of me, taking in the depth of the picture and the severity of what I was going to say. The director, Joe, was allowing us space to relax into the spirit of the moment. I needed it.
I took a breath and proceeded carefully toward Wanda, each step thoughtful and silent. Raven's boots reverberated softly on the rooftop floor. My expression was inscrutable, meticulously crafted, calm on the surface, chaos beneath.
"Why are you here?" Lizzie spoke, her voice as raspy as Wanda's. She avoided looking at me at first, as if it hurt too much.
Raven paused. Her gaze searched the devastation below. Blood had flowed. Soldiers had died.
"You still believe in me," I said — Raven said. Her tone was not desperate. It was not a plea. Just pure curiosity. "Even after everything."
Wanda finally met her eyes.
"Because you've never hurt me."
A pause.
"And because you care... even when you don't want anyone to see it."
My expression flared. Not too much. Just enough to show that anything impacted her insides. My jaw clenched. I came closer, slowly and cautiously, as if Wanda was something I might damage simply by being near her.
Raven's voice lowered to almost a whisper now. "Maybe I'm tired of hiding."
And then, unexpectedly, her breath caught. Her face crumbled in the simplest, most human manner. Her shoulders twisted inward, as if she were sinking beneath an unseen weight, and tears welled up in her eyes, quiet, genuine, quivering on her eyelids.
"They're still arguing about whether you're dangerous or just reckless."
I smirked. "They're not wrong."
"I saw what you did out there," she said. "To those soldiers."
"They were trying to blow up a refugee truck," I answered casually. "So I ripped their throats out. Problem solved."
"You could've taken them down without... that."
"I could have," I replied, finally turning to face her. "But where is the fun in that?"
"You're not heartless."
Lizzie's voice trembled just slightly, even as her magic buzzed through the air like a quiet hum between us. "You just don't waste your heart on the wrong people."
"I never asked for this," I whispered, voice strained. "I just wanted to protect something, for once."
Then tears began to fall.
Not in the script.
Not planned.
I could sense that everyone was watching.
"You don't have to do it alone," Lizzie said quietly, coming in closer and gently placing her forehead on Y/N's. "We will figure it out. Together."
"Cut!"
I blinked once and again. Straightened. I took a silent step back, shrugged my shoulders, and wiped the tear from beneath my eye with my knuckle as if it were just another spread of makeup.
The entire crew remained quiet.
And then
Applause.
Real, loud applause.
"Holy shit," I heard someone from the lights mutter.
Joe went forward with a shocked expression and raised his hands. "That, whatever it was, we're keeping it. There is no second take."
Lizzie continued to gaze at me, her eyes wide. "How do you do that?" she muttered. "Like—switch it on and off like that?"
I laughed softly, removing an unwanted strand of hair from my face. "I drink a lot of espresso and don't think about it too much."
She grinned slowly, a little confused. "You were amazing."
"You made it easy," I replied softly, my voice totally Y/N again. "Your Wanda breaks my heart."
Joe walked over, his expression surprised. "That... was beyond incredible. Y/N, Elizabeth—your chemistry, the way you two just... felt that scene. I can't even put it into words. That was... magic."
But I felt it.
The way everyone looked at me has changed a little differently now.
The way Lizzie did, especially.
And I couldn't help but wonder, was it still just acting?
My phone lights up...
"Don't judge me," Robert said via text. "But I'm very certain I ate something suspicious today. "
I giggled softly to myself before scrolling down to see what others had said- Chris had tweeted a photo of himself "prepping for battle" with a pile of weights stacked around him. Then I received a text from Lizzie.
(Lizzie 🥀)I'm curious, Y/N: do you ever simply... quit being Black Raven? Is she always on your mind?
The message she wrote took me off guard, sending a shudder down my spine. I quickly composed my reply.
(You)I wish I could claim I left her on set, but she stays. But when you work with people like you, Lizzie, it's difficult not to bring her out, you know?
I waited for a bit, my pulse pumping slightly quicker than normal as I expected her reaction. But before I could think about it, my phone rang again.
(Lizzie 🥀)Hmm, maybe I'll give Wanda a chance at her. 😉 The chemistry is obvious.
I smiled, though no one could see it. I wasn't sure if she was still talking about our characters or something more personal. Perhaps both.
(You): Is this a challenge? Because Black Raven will not back down from one.
I sat back, exhaled, and smiled slightly. Was it a flirtation? I couldn't tell, but I didn't mind being unclear. For once, I wanted to let the words hang in the air without overthinking them. After all, everything was in good humor.
(RDJ) (After Lizzie's message): That's all. Y/N and Lizzie are now a real thing. Someone bring the popcorn.
I blinked, thoroughly caught off guard. Wait, was he talking about the chat? About us?
(Chris E.): You know what? I think they'd make an excellent couple. Don't you think?
(You): Lol, okay, okay, maybe I've had too much espresso today.
The studio lights had been bright for hours, and my legs hurt from running through take after take. The strain that came from filming Captain America: Civil War was finally easing as we took a break and spread across the set, ready for the next scene. The entire team had gathered in the makeup room to cool down, get food, and do everything they could to rest for a few seconds before the chaos returned.
I found myself standing in the corner of the room, trying to recover my breath while checking my phone for emails, texts, and the usual disaster. Lizzie walked in, her hair still a little filthy from the previous takes but looking effortlessly gorgeous as always. She gave me a heart-stopping smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.
"How's the new Black Raven scene going?" Lizzie asked, leaning on the counter near me. Her voice was sweet and playful, as if she understood how hard the day had been.
I rolled my eyes theatrically. "Oh, you understand. Running, battling, and being hit by objects I'm supposed to avoid. A typical day in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, right?"
Lizzie chuckled, her eyes bright with delight. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to the battle we're about to have in the next scene."
I raised my eyebrow at her. "Are you telling me Wanda is going to fight Black Raven? I'm all in on that."
Lizzie shrugged lightly, but I saw how her gaze lingered on mine a little longer than needed. "Who knows? Perhaps we'll be on the same side. Or not. You never know with us. "We have history."
That final part caught my attention.. She said it casually, but there was something more beneath the words, making me question if she was hinting at something more. "So, what do you think about the future?" Will we be best friends or enemies?" I asked, hoping to keep the discussion light, but I could see the air between us shifting, charged with something more.
Lizzie paused, her lips twisting into a cheeky grin. "I believe we could have some interesting chemistry on screen. You and I."
"Alright, guys," Joe Russo's voice echoed through the room, "let's get ready for the next shot."
The Filming Break
After another long sequence, the team took a break, and I found myself seated next to Lizzie again. This time, we were joined by a few other cast members, but the space between Lizzie and me felt different, as if there was an invisible thread pulling us together, even though we were sitting around chatting. We chuckled about the most recent scenario, in which our characters were meant to face off in a dramatic battle.
"You looked incredible in that fight scene," Lizzie added, her eyes shining with real adoration. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to be that ruthless."
I chuckled and shook my head. "Hey, this is all part of the character. But it's difficult to keep a straight face when we're dressed in silly costumes."
There was a silent moment, and the sound of the team preparing the next shot resonated in the distance. But it was not my top priority. I was concentrated on Lizzie, her eyes meeting mine,
"Maybe we could do that," I replied gently, my pulse pounding slightly quicker. "After we finish filming, might we... have a drink? Talk about life beyond the MCU?"
Lizzie's expression softened, and I could see a change in her eyes. She was considering it. "I'd like that," she murmured, barely rising above a whisper.
The last take had just finished, and the entire set burst into cheers. Some of us cheered and accepted. I stood there, hands on my hips, gathering my breath, my heart rushing from adrenaline rather than actual effort.
Months of filming, endless takes, bruises, sweat, early mornings, and late nights resulted in this: the final fight sequence in Berlin.
We were still in costume, half-covered in fake dirt, sweat seeping down between layers of leather, yet no one cared. There was a thrill, the type you feel after doing something incredible.
One of the assistants rolled in a monitor, and the director called out, "Alright, gather around. Let's watch the last sequence. You've earned it."
The screen began to light up. The first few clips of the Berlin combat began to play, with all the uncut footage patched together by one of the editors, who worked like magic. We watched as Cap and Tony fought, Peter helped with his spider ability, and Scott transformed into an actual giant.
But then came the moment we all waited for.
Wanda, or Lizzie in full Scarlet Witch beauty, flew over the asphalt and landed hard. The camera switched to a wide shot. A burst of black feathers and red energy appeared on the screen.
There I was, racing full speed at her, my boots hitting the concrete with amazing elegance. I sank to my knees next to her, scared yet cool. The sound wasn't completely mixed yet, but we could still hear the speech perfectly.
"You shouldn't have stayed behind."
"And let you go alone?" Never."
"You betrayed Tony."
"I don't care."
Everyone else made some kind of noise—"Oof," "Damn," "Okay, chemistry!" but I hardly heard it. I was looking at the screen too much. Specifically, on me, who was almost straining not to gaze at Wanda's chest in that fitting corset. And failing.
Badly.
Lizzie's lips twitched into a grin, and I noticed this out of the corner of my eye. She leaned down and said, "You were definitely not looking at my chest all the time in that scene."
Let forth a faint, regretful chuckle. "I stayed in character."
"Oh, sure," she said, sipping her coffee like a smug witch. "Black Raven was just emotionally overwhelmed by the... depth of Wanda's neckline."
By the time the last fight scene appeared on the monitor, the audience had quieted.
Everything stopped, including the conversation, taunting, and rustling of the food. We all sat there, actors still clad in half-costumes, sweating, hanging to our foreheads, our gaze fixed on the screen. The Berlin conflict was chaotic, but this was something else.
Tony. Steve. Bucky.
It wasn't simply punches and shields anymore; betrayal, sorrow, and desperation were woven into every action. Every punch was personalized. Every breath was heaviest.
When the shield collided with the arc reactor, there was a collective inhalation.
Nobody spoke. Nobody had to.
I noticed Chris and Robert seated side by side, both appearing much more serious than normal. Sebastian had his arms folded and his eyes squinted. Lizzie's fingers remained motionless against the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her knuckles white.
Then the screen went dark.
And another scene started.
Steve stormed down the Raft's hallways, mouth clenched, eyes scouring each gloomy path. The emergency lights flashed to a low red. The doors burst open. Guards had died. Empty cells.
Everyone leaned forward.
We hadn't viewed the footage yet—it wasn't done. Despite knowing what was about to happen, my stomach fluttered. I recalled shooting it and the weight of it. The atmosphere on set had been strained that day.
The camera followed Steve through the prison until he came to a stop.
Right there, bodies sprawled over the floor. Wanda's cell broke open. Debris. Smoke. Chaos.
Then the Woman emerged from the darkness, boots clicking on damp concrete.
Black Raven.
Me.
Drenched in blood, with tangled hair, the black villain's outfit is ripped and wild, like shadows sewn to skin. My character was motionless—except for her arms, which clutched Wanda against her chest. Wanda's hand grabbed my shoulder weakly.
Steve's voice resonated and was raspy. "What did you do?"
"What you would not do. Do not try to stop me, no one will hurt her again. And be careful, Captain. You're only alive because she likes you. And everything on my body wants to murder you, so stand aside."
The place nearly burst.
"Holy shit," Anthony Mackie said, half-standing. "That was badass."
"That's gonna break the internet," Scarlett said, her eyes still wide.
I saw myself on film taking Wanda to the Helicopter before turning around and disappearing into the darkness.
Chris whistled softly. "That's when the audience knows she isn't just a villain. She's something else entirely."
"I've got chills," Lizzie muttered near me.
Paul blinked. "Did... did your character kill all of them by herself?"
I gave a little smile. "She did."
"I love her," Robert announced. "She is terrifying. I love her."
Sebastian nudged me. "You looked like a vampire version of Batman."
"Thanks, I think?"
"No, seriously," the director interrupted, arms folded as he inspected the monitor. "That moment, when she carries Wanda like that? That isn't simply dark; it's loyalty. You can feel it."
Lizzie did not say anything immediately. She simply leaned in again and murmured, "You looked like you'd set the world on fire for her."
I looked at her, my lips parted slightly.
"And you looked like you'd let me."
She blushing but did not look away.
"Okay," Chris broke the quiet. "But can we talk about how Steve literally shows up ready to break them out, and Y/N's already done it and left a dramatic calling card?"
"I like a little flair," I shrugged.
"You carried me like a bride," Lizzie teased.
"You looked like one," I shot back without thinking.
She blinked.
So did I.
Scarlett grinned, she knew. "Guys get a room please, your eye fucking is too much even for me."
Jimmy Fallon show - a few months later
The lights came on strong, and the applause was louder than I imagined, but honestly? I was too high on adrenaline to notice.
Walking onto the Tonight Show set with the rest of the Avengers cast was unreal. The audience exploded as if we were true superheroes - Sebastian grinned, Robert blew kisses, Chris and Anthony began arguing playfully, and Scarlett walked like she ruled the building (she kinda did).
I greeted, smiled, and hugged Jimmy Fallon before sliding into my seat between Lizzie and Paul. Not by accident.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jimmy announced dramatically once we had all settled down, "we have the most powerful couch on Earth right now."
 "So," Jimmy leaned forward, fingers steepled, "Captain America: Civil War. Huge feelings. Large fighting. There's a lot of confusion. And some new faces..."
He grinned as he turned to face me. "Y/N Salvatore, Black Raven herself, welcome to the madness."
The audience applauded again. I giggled gently and smoothed my dress.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm still not sure how I ended up here. One day I'm filming in a castle cellar in Romania, and the next I'm avoiding flying vehicles,"
"You're incredible in the movie," Jimmy replied. "The prison scene? You're carrying Wanda out like you're a goth vampire knight in shining armor?"
The crowd howled. Lizzie gave a little sigh beside me, covering her mouth to conceal a chuckle.
"I-I was doing my best, okay?" I shrugged. "Black Raven is a little dramatic. It's in her blood."
Chris said, "She also kills like... twenty guards in under a minute," his eyes wide. "I was like - did we just add a slasher villain to the team?"
"She's not a villain," Lizzie insisted, remarkably adamant. "She's complicated."
I gazed at her. She stared at me.
Jimmy blinked. "Oh, hello."
More laughs. Robert leaned into his microphone. "This has been going on through the press trip. I swear to God."
"Don't look at us like that!" Lizzie protested, her cheeks flushing just enough to be noticed.
"Okay, but," Jimmy said, pulling out a single shot from the tape of me kneeling by Wanda, cradling her protectively, blood streaming from my hands. "You can't blame us for shipping it."
Cue the crowd losing their heads.
Scarlett laughed. "They have unreal chemistry. Like, we all saw it."
"Yeah," Anthony nodded. "Even between takes, they were still looking at each other like—"
"Finish that sentence and I swear—" I warned, but I was laughing too hard to sound serious.
Jimmy grinned. "Okay, alright. We'll keep things cool for now. But truly, your performance was incredible. The emotional intensity, the silence, the uncertainty..."
He turned back to face the group. "Was anyone else on set just like... watching her and forgetting to act?"
Paul raised his hand. "I did. Twice. I got yelled at."
Sebastian nodded. "I tripped over my line."
I ducked my head and grinned. "Now you're all just being sweet."
"No," Lizzie responded quietly. "You were real. And it is unusual."
The room was silent for a little moment. Just enough for me to notice how near her knee was to mine again. And how warm her hand felt as it lightly touched mine as the talk progressed.
We laughed, mocked, and acted out our biggest blunders (Chris screwed up his shield flip and smacked a bulb. Classic). Jimmy showed a montage of us dancing behind the scenes—yes, there was an uncomfortable moment when Lizzie and I spun around in full costume as the stunt squad looked at us like puzzled pups.
But the moment that stuck?
When Jimmy pulled out a fan-edited clip of Black Raven and Wanda with the title: "Born To Burn – A Love Between Fire and Shadow".
And we both blushed like idiots.
I was still laughing at Paul's impersonation of Vision trying yoga when Jimmy leaned in again, this time with that sparkle in his eye that suggested he was ready to stir things up.
"Alright, alright," he murmured, interrupting the laughter. "I know I can't expect too much, but come on... We need to discuss what comes next."
I felt my smile freeze slightly.
"What about the new Avengers lineup? Perhaps a secret antihero will make more appearances?" He raised an eyebrow wildly and fixed his eyes on me. "Y/N, will we be seeing more of Black Raven in the future?"
The audience reacted with a chorus of excited gasps and cheers, with some admirers in the first row already screaming my character's name.
I opened my lips, not knowing what to say.
Scarlett, thankfully, jumped in first. "If she tells you anything, Feige will literally teleport here and kill us all."
Everyone laughed, but Jimmy was not finished.
"Oh, come on," he responded, smirking. "No teases?" "Not even a hint?"
I attempted to maintain a neutral look, but my stomach was already in knots. I hadn't even read the final script for the following step. Rumors were flowing, and the pressure was building, but was it true? I wasn't sure what I was permitted or wanted to say.
I glanced down immediately, attempting to seem casual, but my fingers curled a bit harder around the edge of the couch seat.
Then I felt it.
A soft, comforting hand gently touched my thigh, right above my knee.
Lizzie.
She said nothing and didn't even look at me. Her gaze was still fixed on Jimmy, and her smile was as calm and dazzling as ever. But her thumb glided gently back and forth on the material of my dress.
It was a tiny gesture. Soft. Subtle. But stable.
I inhaled gently through my nose, urging my shoulders to remain calm. My heart, which had begun to stutter in my chest, resumed its normal rhythm.
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," I eventually said, giving Jimmy a faint smirk. "But I do think the universe of Black Raven still has some shadows left to explore."
Jimmy lifted both brows and glanced around at the others. "That... felt like a yes."
Robert clapped his hands once. "That was a studio-trained 'I can't answer this' voice if I've ever heard one."
"Ten out of ten," Chris said. "Very smooth."
Lizzie's hand squeezed my thigh, barely noticeable, but she never took her hand off me.
I took a quick glimpse at her.
She didn't look at me. But the sweetest smile tugged on the corner of her lips.
Time passed...
The premier light finally faded. The press junkets slowed. The constant travel, fittings, early call times, and all-day shootings were finally over—or at least put on hold. But even after I returned to my own small corner of the earth, a peaceful house in New Jersey, the Marvel craziness continued.
Naturally, I kept in touch with the cast. That part was simple.
Group discussions were filled with inside jokes and memes. Chris still sent way too many selfies of himself and Dodger. Scarlett dropped voice messages that never made sense, and Robert constantly sent me culinary recommendations no matter where I was in the world.
And then there was Lizzie.
We chatted. Often.
Sometimes it was simply voice messages at 2 a.m. We sometimes had extended FaceTime chats while she was cooking. Sometimes, there was silence, yet it didn't feel far. Just...quiet comfort. Her name was constantly visible at the top of my texts. My thoughts were continuously drawn back to her.
I wasn't quite sure what we were. But I knew we weren't simply friends—that didn't seem right anymore.
It had been pouring outdoors when this happened.
I was tucked up in my favorite oversized sweatshirt, covered in a throw blanket, and sipping chamomile tea while reading through a stack of forgotten mail and half-read magazines that were gathering on the kitchen counter.
Then one headline attracted my attention.
"Scarlet Spell? Black Raven & Wanda Maximoff Actress Spotted Hand-in-Hand After Intimate NYC Dinner"
My stomach dropped, then fluttered.
I focused on the glossy photo printed over the bottom half of the tabloid. It was grainy, somewhat dark, but clearly us. Lizzie and I were going along a quiet street at night after supper last week. I had entirely forgotten that photographers were standing near that restaurant. She was giggling, her head slightly tilted back, and my hand was in hers.
Not for the camera. Not for public relations.
Just... her fingers curled around mine as if they belonged there.
I sat back on the barstool and looked at the paper.
Part of me panicked. What about the other part? I kind of didn't care.
I grabbed for my phone, my fingers hesitating over Lizzie's number.
Before I could start typing, a fresh message appeared on the screen.
Lizzie🩶: You saw it? 🙈 ...We look cute tho, not gonna lie.
Later that night...
My phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming FaceTime call from Lizzie.
I barely hesitated before responding.
Her face dominated the screen, lighted only by the warmth from her bedside lamp. Hair slightly messy, large sweatshirt, no makeup - it's simply her. She still managed to look like a dream.
"Hey," she responded, her voice mild and somewhat raspy. "You okay?"
I grinned and tucked my knees up to my chest. "You mean after our small-town scandal broke the internet?"
Lizzie laughed. "Right, I forgot, hand-holding, the most forbidden act."
"I know," I teased. "Next thing you know,w we'll be... smiling at each other in public."
"Oh, the horror."
We both laughed, slipping into that comfortable rhythm, the easy warmth that only comes from being with someone you trust.
There was a nice pause, although it lasted a little longer than normal.
"You looked good in that photo," she ultimately replied, her gaze shifting away from the camera for a moment. "Not that this is news. You always do."
I blinked, my lips parted slightly. "You, too. You looked happy."
She shrugged casually. "I was. I mean-I am. With you. It's always fun."
"Fun?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "That's what I am to you?"
Lizzie leaned closer to the TV, smiling. "Maybe a little more than fun."
The butterflies in my stomach grew into something heavier.
And then—
DING!
A group chat notification slid across the top of the screen. "RDJ 🧃🥸: Alright nerds, suit up. We've got a new project to talk about 👀🦸‍♂️ #avengersassembleagain"
I blinked and then laughed out. "Did he seriously just—"
Lizzie was already rolling her eyes and grinning. "Of course he did."
"I didn't even get time to emotionally recover from the last one."
"We never do," she said. "That's the Marvel way."
I gazed back at her via the screen. A glimmer of passion. Her eyes sparkled.
"So," I asked gently, "Do you think we'll work together again?"
She smiled more slowly this time. "I really hope so."
I leaned my cheek against my hand. "Yeah. Me, too."
INT. CONVENTION HALL – MARVEL PRESS CONFERENCE 
The stage was stylish. The backdrop said, "Marvel Studios: Phase 4 - Expanding the Universe." The rows of reporters, camera crews, and executives packed the room. The air was alive with curiosity.
I sat next to Lizzie, my posture excellent, and tried not to mess with the pen in my hand. Everyone had papers in front of them with secret Marvel material. Contracts. NDAs. Early outlines of the initiative, which we were here to publicly reveal.
I'd already read mine, attempting to keep my eyes from widening at the images I was in. And, more especially, who I was with throughout them.
Robert leaned down and said, "Have you read page 73 yet?" OH LORD, SEX SCENE...
I gave him a sideways glance. "Don't get me started."
He grinned and leaned back, as though he already knew everything.
Kevin Feige entered the stage. "The next film is something personal. We're sticking with a darker tone and more grounded emotion—but also something fans have been asking for."
The Russo Brothers then emerged, wearing their typical cool and cryptic expressions.
Anthony said that Y/N Hale and Wanda Maximoff would have a significant story in the next film.
The audience did not respond for a second.
And then, BOOM.
Gasps, whispers, and a few shouts. People began making notes and raising their hands. One reporter asked, "Romantic?"
Lizzie's gaze shifted toward me.
Joe nodded. "We can't say more."
My cheeks burned. I gulped water as if my life depended on it.
Chris Evans leaned forward and murmured, "You two are already trending. Check Twitter."
Scarlett gave me a slow smirk. "Better get used to the spotlight again, rookie."
I tried to hide my grin as I signed the last page of my contract. Black ink. Official.
Marvel had just made it canon.
And suddenly, we were the storyline.
INT. OUTDOOR MARVEL STUDIOS LOT – LUNCH TENT
The sun was warm overhead, creating a golden glow over the Marvel lot. A big picnic-style table was set up beneath an umbrella, and it was packed with known faces, including Chris Hemsworth with three protein bowls in front of him, Sebastian mocking Mackie, Tom Holland jumping in his seat, and RDJ at the head like some cheeky monarch.
I sat tucked between Scarlett and Lizzie, pecking at my salad and trying not to seem too excited.
Chris Evans sat down opposite us, sliding his tray as if he owned the table. "Okay, let us discuss Infinity War. No spoilers, but I read the script last night and"
"—You read the script?" Tom cut in quickly. "I've been given, like, three pages, and one of them was blacked out!"
Everyone came out laughing.
"Tom, you're literally the reason we have that many NDAs," Mackie said, pointing at him.
"I'm an innocent boy!" Tom gasped in his English accent.
"Sure you are," Sebastian murmured, his mouth full of fries.
Lizzie leaned over to me, lips close to my ear. "Have you read your scenes yet?"
"Not all," I said, clicking my nails on my water bottle. "But I saw one where I—uh—jump between two crumbling buildings and Wanda save me out mid-collapse?"
She grinned slowly.
"Maybe Marvel's trying to tell you something," Scarlett replied, without looking up from her dish.
Everyone turned.
"What?" She grinned and shrugged. "I see everything."
"Honestly, though," Hemsworth said, "the energy you two bring? Electric. I'm kind of jealous."
"Agreed," RDJ said. Seeing your connection on screen is like witnessing a solo film romance inserted into a superhero film. Very broody and intense."
Lizzie and I exchanged looks. I attempted to laugh it off, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"We're just... committed to the characters," I explained, attempting to maintain a cheerful tone.
"Right," Sebastian responded, exaggerating. "Very... method."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have a brooding scene to rehearse or something?"
Chris Evans smiled. "I ship it."
Tom blinked. "You mean in the movie?"
RDJ leaned back, his sunglasses glinting. "Sure, let's say that."
Lizzie's hand brushed mine under the table again, intentionally, softly. I looked down. She didn't move it. Neither did I.
"Okay, no spoilers," Feige called as he passed by with his own tray. "But can we all agree this cast is going to break hearts in Infinity War?"
"Oh, they're not ready," Scarlett said, gesturing between Lizzie and me with her fork. "Especially not for these two."
I hid my face in my cup. Lizzie just chuckled lowly beside me.
The sun was beginning to set behind the sound stages, coloring the sky in gold and pink. I was snuggled up on the little sofa in my trailer, script pages spread out on my lap, but I wasn't reading anymore.
Instead, I found myself looking at a specific scene, one in which my character and Wanda kiss and have sex.  We're supposed to shoot it today. This is my first time on a Marvel movie with wlw intimate scenes, and I am quite nervous. There is also a sex scene with Lizzie, so ahhh.... This was not the first time our characters had kissed. Not by far. But... it was the one that lingered in my chest the most.
It wasn't difficult to pretend I was dating Wanda Maximoff. If anything, it was too simple. Sometimes I told myself that this was the most natural character I'd ever performed. The gentle stares, the lingering touches, the calm times between explosions when she'd grab my hand—it no longer seemed like acting. It felt like breathing.
The only thing that was not real was the kisses. And yet, every time Lizzie's lips touched mine on camera, I fell a bit deeper.
The first few times had been playful. Nervous laughs, gentle chuckles when the director yelled cut. But recently, Lizzie had changed. There was a change. There is a dominance to the way she touches me now- less hesitant, more confident. Her fingertips on my jaw, her thumb caressing my face, the gentle way she guided me through the scene.
And I let her. Gladly.
God, I probably looked like an idiot, leaning into her every action as if gravity drew me there.
I remembered the last scene we'd shot: her v me against the wreckage, and our characters finally having a raw moment of confession. Her forehead was pushed against mine, her breathing unsteady, and for a minute... I wasn't sure whether Wanda or Lizzie was whispering, "I can't lose you."
There was a knock on my trailer door just as I'd finished tying my robe.  I was still mentally pacing, flipping through the revised script pages for today's shoot.
Not graphic, not that kind of sex scene, but still intimate. Slow, emotional, intense.
"Come in," I called, voice just a little higher than usual.
The door creaked open, and in stepped one of the Russo brothers, script rolled in hand, calm but serious. "Hey, just wanted to give you and Lizzie a quick rundown before we get on set."
I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral even though my heart was already speeding up.
"We want it slow. Intimate. Like it's not just passion, but release- relief. You've both been holding it in for so long. There should be touches that feel almost hesitant. But once it starts... we want the audience to feel how much your characters want this."
I nodded again, biting the inside of my cheek. "Got it. Oh, and," he added, "when you're moaning, don't hold back. Say her name. Multiple times, people will love it.
 He chuckled like it was nothing, but the casual direction sent a spark of heat up my spine. "Be raw with it."
Yeah. Sure. Totally fine. Definitely not freaking out.
I adjusted the collar of my shirt, which was soft and worn-looking. The costume designer had nailed the "undercover but still slightly dramatic" look. My character's hair was messily tied back, and there was no makeup save for the sort they used to make me appear like I had slept four hours in three days. Real method stuff.
Lizzie was already on set, barefoot, sitting on a pretend bed, and drinking from a paper coffee cup. She gave me that comfortable, lopsided smile. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be," I said, taking a long breath.
Joe came in next to us and lowered his voice.
"This is morning-after energy," he explained. "You have been on the run for months. You've got used to the silence and your relationship. You are not superheroes here. You're simply two people trying to hang onto something positive. Something honest. We want to feel that."
I nodded, and Lizzie's expression had already changed. Wanda was there. Tired, gentle, and a little guarded.
And when they called action
Everything slid into place.
"I think I saw someone watching us near the market," I remarked, carefully folding a dish towel and placing it on the counter. "He wasn't following me, but... I'm not sure if I'm paranoid or right."
Wanda, Lizzie, glanced up from the table where she was cutting fruit. Her fingers hesitated slightly. "You're probably correct. You usually are."
I turned to face her. "Doesn't make me feel better."
She let out a giggle and walked to me.
"It's been peaceful here," she remarked. "I forgot what peace even felt like."
Lizzie stood close to me, dressed as Wanda, with delicate makeup and a dark red cloak thrown around her shoulders, her hand gently stretching across the table to mine. "We're safe here," she added, with Wanda's soft, quiet, but authoritative tone. It caused chills down my arms.
I nodded and gazed into her eyes, waiting for my cue. But I wasn't acting anymore. When she gripped my hand.
"We don't have to go back," Lizzie said. "We might disappear here. Just you and I."
I swallowed hard. "You really think they'd let us go?" I demanded, leaning forward as the script instructed me. The intensity of Lizzie's gaze on me felt too genuine.
Her fingers brushed under my chin as she tilted my face up. "Let them try," she whispered, right before her lips pressed to mine.
Her hand slid up my jaw, into my hair. I leaned into her touch, kissed her back like I meant it, because maybe... I did.
We locked eyes.
She leaned down and cupped my jaw with delicate fingertips. Her thumb stroked my face, then lowered to my lips.
"You're safe now," she murmured to Wanda, her voice filled with emotion. "With me."
My breath caught. "I always was," I said, just barely audible.
Then, she kissed me again.
As we explored our mouths with our tongues, she slowly moved us to our bed...
Slow at the beginning. Lingering. Her lips slid against mine as if she understood every curve, every pause that made me melt. Her hands moved beneath the blanket, tracing my waist and bringing me closer. Her leg was looped around mine, possessively.
Then, with one hand, she performed her caressing movement, and I held up my hands as if they were magically tied down, because that is the effect they will add later.
"Wanda"
"OH, Wanda"
But as her lips moved to my neck, Lizzie kissed me differently. Less scripted. Hungrier. Her tongue touched my skin, and her fingers curled behind my neck.
And that is when it slid.
"Lizzie..."
I said it like a breath, a prayer.
The camera did not catch it. Nobody said anything. But I felt it. I knew it.
When the director screamed, "Cut!"I jumped upright and tucked the sheet over my chest.
"I'll, um, I'll be in my trailer," I murmured, blushing.
I didn't glance back at Lizzie. Couldn't. My heart was pounding, and my thoughts were spinning out of control. I grumbled since that was not Wanda.
That was Lizzie.
And I meant it.
I'm fucked.
I had been ghosting everyone for a weeks.
Text messages remained unopened. Conversations in groups were muted. Missed calls from Robert, Chris, Scarlett, Paul, and Lizzie.
I just couldn't.
When I moaned her name on set, it seemed like something inside me split wide open. I hadn't only crossed a professional line; I had revealed something far too true. Then I ran like a coward. Classic. And now? I couldn't even look at her, much less pretend we were "just friends" or "just coworkers."
So I remained away. From the cast. From rehearsals. From everything.
I didn't want to admit it, but the only thing that hurt was Lizzie's lack of communication.
Maybe she overheard it. Perhaps she didn't. Regardless, she remained mute.
That made things worse.
I was cuddled up on my couch, hoodie pulled over my head, watching horrible reality TV and eating cold leftovers when the doorbell rang.
I ignored it.
Then came the second ring.
Then they knocked.
Then there was some banging.
And, through the awful door—
"Y/N Salvatore, if you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I'm calling Feige and telling him you died in a tragic avocado toast incident."
...Goddammit.
I grumbled and trudged to the door, opening it just slightly. Robert Downey, Jr. was standing there. Designer sunglasses, a wide-brimmed hat, coffee in one hand, and what appeared to be a Gucci purse in the other.
"Oh, thank God," he said, shoving past me. "I thought you had vanished. This area smells of sadness and fried chips. Not cute."
"Nice to see you, too," I mumbled, closing the door behind him.
He turned and pointed at me. "Sit. We're talking."
"I'm fine."
"Nope," he said. "You're in love, ignoring your lover, and attempting to self-sabotage before the greatest Marvel premiere of your life. Also, you haven't showered today."
I narrowed my eyes. "Did Lizzie send you?"
He snorted. "Lizzie has no idea I am here. She's too busy pretending she isn't devastated. Which, by the way, she is doing poorly at. The girl has been poking at foods as if they insulted her mother."
I glanced aside, my arms crossed across my chest.
Robert groaned and sat near me on the couch. "Look. I got it. It's messy. You are afraid. You believe you have ruined something."
"I did ruin it."
He shakes his head. "No. You felt something. She did, too. Salvatore, don't play stupid; you both acted as if you forgot there were cameras. Do you believe that type of chemistry is normal? We were all watching playback and wondering if this was still acting."
I didn't respond.
"You're not alone in this," he said quietly. "You are not a monster for having emotions. She definitely did, too. You're both simply being foolish. Which is why I am hosting dinner tonight. One of our last before the press tour madness begins. Everyone is invited. And yes, you will be there."
"I'm not going."
He stood dramatically. "That's wonderful, but I had already planned to drive you there myself. So either you get ready and arrive dressed like a Greek goddess, or I sling you over my shoulder and drag your theatrical vampire ass out in a robe."
I looked at him, blinking. "...Fine. But I'm wearing black."
"Duh. It is your color."
LATER — Y/N's BEDROOM
I stood in front of the mirror, curling the last strand of my hair. Something elegant but soft. My dress was black, yes, but tasteful. Backless. Flowing. Simple, but still dramatic. I applied a final coat of deep red lipstick.
My heart was racing.
Not because of the dinner. But because I knew I'd see her again. Lizzie.
And I had no idea how to act normally anymore.
But I could fake it. That was the job, right?
I grabbed my heels. Took a breath.
Robert was waiting downstairs, blasting ABBA on his phone like a true icon.
Time to face the chaos.
And maybe... her.
Robert's house is like a Vogue spread transformed into a mansion. There are lights everywhere, jazz playing from concealed speakers, candles flickering around the pool, and so many people.
I squinted at the sight, my heels tapping on the marble as I followed Robert through the front door. "Wait," I said, lifting an eyebrow. "Didn't you say this was a dinner?"
He smirked as he stared at me over his spectacles. "I mentioned there will be food. You imagined it meant 'calm' and 'intimate.' That is on you."
"Robert, there are at least forty people here."
"Not a single boring one. "You are welcome."
Before I could strangle him with my hold, he vanished into the crowd, greeting everyone like a Hollywood Zeus descending from Olympus.
I groaned and looked around the room. There is no indication of Lizzie.
Okay. Take a deep breath. Keep it cool.
I approached the bar, anxious for something cold and boozy. That's where I noticed Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan leaning heavily against it, as if they were in some whiskey ad.
"Ayyy, look who rose from the dead!" Anthony grinned and pulled me in for a hug.
"You do look like a vampire queen tonight," Sebastian said, lifting his glass. "I really adore it. Brooding looks fantastic on you."
"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling. "That's what two weeks of existential dread and bad reality TV will do to you."
We clinked glasses. Whiskey scorched my throat.
They spoke, asked how I was, and teased me like elder brothers, which made me chuckle. Until Anthony's smile became hazardous.
"Alright. Dare time."
Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. "This isn't high school."
"Oh, shut up, you love this." Anthony turned to face me. "Y/N, I challenge you to dance with Bucky Barnes over here. But, really, dance. None of that nice swaying. I want hip action. Maintain eye contact. Full commitment."
Sebjust chuckled and reached for my hand. "Are you up for it?"
I arched my brow. "You wish."
But I had already placed my drink down.
The music changed, darker, slower, hotter. Low boom sends through the floor.
And yes, I agreed.
I strolled with Sebastian across Robert's marble living room, as if we were in a noir club scene. Smooth, sultry, and a touch playful. His hand rested softly on my waist as I turned, our feet perfectly coordinated. Everyone around us cheered.
It was enjoyable. Light. Silly.
And suddenly, I felt it.
That sting.
It felt like flames on the back of my neck.
I turned.
Lizzie.
Standing near the bar.
Watching me.
Her jaw tensed, and the wine glass froze in midair. Her eyes focused on me.
Shit.
I quickly stepped back from Sebastian, laughed it off, and grabbed my drink, only to be stopped.
A hand was tightly wrapped around my wrist.
Fingers are warm.
"Lizzie—"
"Outside. Now."
Her voice sounded low. Controlled. Too calm.
She almost dragged me past the crowd and into a quiet corridor beside the kitchen, far enough away from the music to hear only the pounding of my own heartbeat.
And then, boom, I was pinned.
Back against a wall.
Her hands are on either side of my waist.
I'm breathing quickly.
Eyes are black.
"Are you trying to drive me insane?" she growled, moving closer.
I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I wasn't sure what to say.
She drew a trembling breath and moved back half an inch, leaving just enough space to make the tension break like a rubber band. Her voice lowered, harsh with pain. "You avoided me for weeks, Y/N."
I swallowed, remorse setting in.
"And now?" She sneered and clenched her fists. "Now you're out there... dancing with Sebastian like it's a fucking date? Really?" Her voice broke just enough to devastate me. "So what am I, nothing to you now?"
"Lizzie, no-"
"No? Then look me in the eyes and say that."
I tried. God, I tried.
But the moment our eyes met, my heart skipped, my throat tightened, and everything inside me screamed her name.
She laughed sadly, tears threatening but not dropping. "You can't, can you?"
I didn't respond.
"I was there for you," she muttered. "Through all of it. When you shut down, left the stage early, or stopped responding to texts. I waited. I worried. And still, I believed myself you only needed time."
Her fingers stroked my arm, sensitive yet trembling. "But then I walk in tonight and you're smiling like nothing happened. With him. And I can't." She broke off, coming closer.
"I can't look at you with him," she whispered. "Every time I see you with someone else, my body just"  Her breath caught. "Every part of me wants to take you away, Y/N. Take you out of this room, put you against a wall, and remind you who you belong to."
She was shaking, but not because she was weak.
Pain. Passion. Love entangled in an unbreakable knot.
"Don't you get it?" She breathed and looked at me as if I were the only thing keeping her alive. "I love you."
That shattered me.
"Liz-" I gasped out.
"I want you completely," she snapped. "I do not want a half-hearted version of you. I do not desire stray looks or hushed practice. I want the version who would whisper lines into my shoulder at midnight. The one who softened as I kissed her neck after a take. I want you.  All of you."
And then, suddenly, her lips were inches from me.
Breathless. Burning.
"I can't pretend this is just acting anymore. And I won't."
I gazed at her, every muscle in my body begging to let go. To give in. To tell her I felt the same way, that she wasn't alone in this insane situation. The fear of losing her kept me up every night.
"Say something," she begged.
My chest lifted and sank as if I'd just finished a marathon. Her words were still reaching in my mind: I want you totally. My lips split, but it seemed like my heart had risen up my throat,
I didn't have to think anymore. I didn't need to second-guess or pretend that she hadn't already blasted through every wall I'd ever created.
"Then kiss me."
Her breath caught.
That is all it took.
Lizzie jumped forward in an instant, her lips crashing against mine, angry and hungry. One hand was knotted in my hair, and the other gripped my waist as if she wanted to ground herself before losing control. I slid toward her, holding to her jacket as my lips parted without hesitation.
There was nothing planned or practiced about it. It was not a scene; it was real. Every brush of her tongue, every moan against my mouth, was messy, urgent, and true. We'd waited too long for this. And suddenly everything was spilling out.
She pushed me back against the wall, her body pressed against mine, her thigh slipping between mine with a possessive ease that made my breath catch and my knees weak.
Her mouth left mine, only to trail down my jaw and down my throat, biting softly before returning to my lips as if she couldn't stay away. Her hands were everywhere—sliding beneath my dress, holding my hips, and squeezing as if she didn't care who saw.
And perhaps she didn't. Perhaps I didn't either.
But then 
We heard laughter on the opposite side of the hallway. Someone is calling for Chris.
Lizzie remained still.
We were both panting, foreheads mashed together, and hearts pounding like thunder.
"I swear to God," she said, eyes still closed, "if someone ruins this again, I'll kill them."
I laughed out loud, my head tilted back against the wall. "We can't do this here."
She sighed and leaned in for one more kiss, slow this time, deep and devastating. Her hand caressed my cheek as she pulled away, her gaze softening.
"Come with me," she said, her voice lower now.  "Let me take you home."
I didn't even hesitate.
When we went out of that hallway, it was like walking into a spotlight. The party's talk stopped for a short moment before resuming.
"Ohhh, look who finally came up for air!" Anthony shouted, raising his cup with a smile.
Sebastian simply let out a long whistle. "It took you long enough. I thought you two were going to fuck each other there."
Chris smiled and nudged Scarlett. "Called it. I said by the end of the night, someone would be pinned to a wall."
Scarlett just rolled her eyes and raised her glass. "Finally."
I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Lizzie and I were still holding hands, fingers interlaced, lips swollen, lipstick slightly blurred, and out of breath. The proof was written all over us.
I squeezed her hand, holding back a laugh as Tom raised his brow and murmured to Zendaya, "Do we cheer? Clap? Light fireworks?"
"Fireworks," Zendaya responded without skipping a beat. "Obviously."
Lizzie simply rolled her eyes at each of them. "Children," she mumbled under her breath, turning to me with a little smile. "Let's get out of here before they start placing bets."
And with that, we slipped out.
Initially, the car was quiet. The city lights reflected a lovely golden tint through the windows, flickering over Lizzie's face as she drove. One hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh.
Her thumb brushed gentle circles at first, innocent and even oblivious. But things did not stay that way.
Her hand began to move higher, slowly and carefully.
"You know," she continued casually, not looking at me, "you have the worst poker face."
I swallowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She smirked. "Every time I touched you back there, your breathing changed."
I scoffed, my cheeks flushed. "It did not."
Her fingers climbed a bit higher. "Did so."
"Maybe you were just breathing harder, Olsen."
"Oh, baby." Her voice dipped, seductive and sexy. "I understand how you breathe when I touch you. I've been studying it for several months."
I turned to the window, trying not to burn, but she leaned in at a red light, whispering in my ear, "And when you moaned my name before... even if no one heard it, I did."
Her fingertips were no longer simply teasing my thigh. They explored slowly, confidently, and possessively. Moving up with purpose.
I shifted slightly in my seat, pretending I wasn't losing my mind, but my breath betrayed mesharp and sharp.
Lizzie's smirk deepened, her gaze fixated on the road as if she wasn't driving me insane. "I love how quiet you get when I touch you like this," she said.
Her fingertips dipped just beneath the bottom edge of my dress, brushing across the naked skin on my inner thigh. Higher. Slower. She wasn't hurrying anything. It was as if she wanted to memorize every inch, torturing me with excitement.
"You didn't want to talk to me for weeks," she said quietly and quietly, "but now look at you. "Falling apart in the front seat."
"Lizzie..." I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for just a moment.
She hummed. "You gonna beg me to stop?"
I shook my head, jaw gritted. "No."
She gave a quiet, satisfied laugh. Her hand reached just high enough to make me gasp, and then she drew away entirely.
"What the hell?" I looked at her, breathless, but she had already pulled into her driveway.
She slowly parked the car and then turned to face me. Her lips twisted into that arrogant, drop-dead gorgeous smile, which she knew had wrecked me.
"Get inside," she urged, her tone suddenly stern and forceful. "We're not done."
My heart pounded. "You, are you serious?"
She released her seatbelt with a gentle click. "You have been taunting me for months. Dancing with Sebastian, avoiding me, moaning my name when no one should hear..." Her glance swept over me. "You don't get to walk away again."
I swallowed hard, my knees wobbly, as I hopped out of the car and followed her to the door.
Lizzie turned around, jealousy in her eyes, as the door closed behind us. Before I could blink, she was raising me with ease, as if she had been waiting all night, and my legs reflexively wrapped around her waist.
"Bedroom," I whispered against her neck, my voice shaking.
She grinned. "Obviously."
Her lips claimed mine again, deep and eager, as she went down the hall as if nothing else mattered but putting me on her bed. I felt the heat coming from her skin, and mine felt similar—burning and throbbing.
As soon as we reached the door, she lowered me into the soft sheets—but didn't pull away. Her body hung over mine, her hands slipping under the sleeves of my dress, and her tongue trailing down the side of my neck. She picked a location just below my jaw and bit—not hard, but enough to make me gasp and leave a growing bruise that she had carefully planned.
"That's mine," she said, her voice low and full of yearning.
Her hands grew impatient, pushing the dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but lace. She sat back to view me, her chest rising and falling, mouth parted, and eyes wide.
"You're so beautiful, baby." She leaned back down and kissed my collarbone. "You've got no idea what you do to me."
I arched into her, moaning quietly as her hand moved between my thighs, her fingertips ghosting across the damp cloth. "Lizzie..."
"I know," she whispered. "I know, sweetheart."
She stripped me naked with slow, deliberate strokes, caressing every inch of exposed skin as if I were precious. Her lips traced a route down my ribs, stomach, and hips, leaving hickeys as evidence of possession.
She took her time, putting her fingers inside me just as her lips touched my breast, nibbling and teasing till I trembled beneath her. Her name escaped my lips in a breathy gasp again and over, and she enjoyed it. Her other hand held my wrist down softly but strongly.
"I want everyone to see what's mine," she muttered against my skin before leaving another mark right over my heart. "I want them to know."
I was lost in her, every touch, every breath, every piece of her weight on mine. She did not simply touch me; she held me. It seemed as if she was connecting me to the world. Even with all that dominance, there was a lot of love behind it.
When I came, it was with her name on my tongue, her hands grounding me, her lips murmuring praise I couldn't even process.
She didn't stop there.
Afterwards, she kissed me softly, her hands stroking my face, her voice gentler than ever. "You okay, baby?"
I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. "You ruined me."
She grinned. "I plan to do it again. And again."
Lizzie was still catching her breath as I rolled on top of her, straddling her hips with a playful grin.
She looked up at me, confused. "Oh, you're not done?"
I bent down and kissed her softly, tongue brushing against hers, one hand creeping into her hair and the other trailing down her warm chest.
"Not even close," I said softly against her lips. "My turn."
Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Then take it, baby."
I kissed down her throat.
  Her skin tasted like salt and passion, like all the fire she'd poured into me, and now I was ready to return it all. My tongue reached the top of her breast, and I sucked softly before biting down just enough to make her hiss.
"Fuck, Y/N," she muttered, leaning into me. "You're getting cocky."
"You made me this way," I said, brushing my lips over her skin, lowering myself until I was kneeling between her legs.
She stared down at me, hair tangled around her pillow, lips puffy, cheeks flushed, and her eyes?
God, she looked destroyed, yet she was still so powerful. Even in surrender, she remained untouchable.
I pulled her thighs over my shoulders, kissed the inside of her knee, then the dip of her leg, and grinned as she snapped beneath me.
"You gonna be good for me?" I asked quietly.
"I'll be whatever you want," she said, her voice broken.
Lizzie's hand quickly reached the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair, as I kissed a stripe across her pussy
"Shit, Y/N. Yes. Exactly like that, baby."
I continued on, slowly at first, teasing her with the tip of my tongue, and watched her tear. Her hips rotated in quest of more, and I gave it to her flicking, sucking, and devouring her as if I were hungry. "Baby, you're really good at this," she sighed. "Fuck, you were made for me."
Her thighs gripped around my head as I murmured against her, sending vibrations through her core, causing her to cry out. She was panting now, rubbing against my mouth, and I didn't stop, not even when her moans became louder, she tugged my hair, or her back arched.
"You want to make me come, pretty girl?" she growled.
I gazed up at her, lips wet, and nodded. "Beg for it."
Lizzie's eyes brightened up. "Oh, fuck. Are you really going to make me?"
I smirked. "Yeah."
She let out a breathless laugh. "You don't realize how hot you are like this. Please, Baby. Please make me come."
That was all I needed.
I put two fingers into her, curving them perfectly while my tongue worked on her clit and the cry that exploded from her chest was filthy. Her body bucked, her feet pressed into my back, and she let out a low groan that rang throughout the room.
"Y/N. I'm, fuck, I'm coming!"
She cracked, yelling my name and writhing under me, her thighs tightening around my head like a vice. I didn't stop until she was exhausted, jerking, and gasping for air.
When I eventually crept back up her body, she looked beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaved, her hair tangled, and her red lips parted in the softest, sweetest grin.
She threw her arms around me and drew me into her.
I kissed her shoulder, then her neck. "You're mine."
"And you're mine," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Every bit of you."
The first thing I noticed when I awoke was the silence.
The type of sweet, dreamy silence that only comes in the early morning. No cars, no texts, and no buzzing notifications. Just the warm weight of covers on my skin and the faint perfume of Lizzie on my pillow.
She was still sleeping next to me, her face buried in the blankets and one arm casually thrown across where I used to be. Her breathing was regular and quiet. Peaceful.
God, she was stunning like that.
I dropped a short kiss on her temple and slid out of bed as silently as possible, sliding one of her big t-shirts over my naked body. It covered my body, the sleeves almost reaching my elbows and touching the tops of my thighs like a dress. I grinned to myself, wondering why it felt so intimate to wear her clothing. I felt surrounded by her warmth even when she was sleeping.
Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I decided to be a nice girlfriend and prepare her breakfast. A small "thank you for last night" gesture. (And possibly: "I'm head over heels for you and can't stop thinking about how you kissed me like I was your whole world." )
When I added the eggs, the pan hissed, and I began looking around for coffee. It was busy but comfortable, me in her shirt, music playing gently from my phone on the counter, and dawn light streaming through the curtains.
Then I felt it: the familiar warmth.
Lizzie's chin settled on my shoulder as her arms wrapped around my waist from behind. She seemed warm and tired, her voice heavy and husky as she spoke.
"Mmm... Are you trying to kill me?"
I giggled and leaned back into her hug. "What?"
"You. In my shirt. Making breakfast. Looking like that." She nuzzled her cheek on my neck. "It is criminal. I should arrest you."
I grinned, putting down the spatula, and covered her hands with mine. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I do."
She hummed and gave me a delicate kiss just below my ear. "It smells nice. Are you attempting to tempt me into round two?"
I smirked as I glanced over my shoulder. "Would it work?"
Lizzie's eyes glittered, and sleep clung to her eyelids. "Baby, you are the reward."
We remained there for a bit, her arms wrapped around mine, our bodies swaying gently in time with the music. There is no haste, no world outside. It's just us.
"You know," she murmured softly, "this...this is everything."
I turned into her arms and wrapped mine around her neck. "What is?"
"This. Waking up with you. Seeing you in my kitchen. Wearing my clothes"
"Come back to bed," she whispered.
"But I'm cooking."
She nipped at my bottom lip. "Breakfast can wait."
And just like that, the eggs were forgotten...
212 notes · View notes
theconstantsidekick · 1 month ago
Text
Thunderbolts* ft. Static (3) | b.b
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Natasha Romanoff x Stark!Reader (flirtationship)
Genre: pining? is that a genre?
Summary: Y/N gets a call she can’t refuse — and surprise, it leads her right to where her dear husband, Congressman Barnes, is running a mission in Utah. A little less romantic getaway, a little more threats of violence.
(These scenes incorporate y/n, codenamed—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Cursing
a/n: TIME SKIP BABYYY also, @astraealupinblack thanks for beta-ing this. ly.
Thunderbolts* ft. Static (2) | Thunderbolts* ft. Static (4) | Series Masterlist | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist
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“We were just trying to get home, alive actually,” she hears Yelena say. 
Y/n can easily gauge that Yelena is at the end of the hall, from somewhere inside the room.
“That’s even more pathetic,” Bucky responds, his voice trailing off.
She doesn’t need to look to know he’s walked toward the huge windows on the other end of the room. She can hear the retreat in his voice. She can feel the distance. 
She could tune in more. Could lean in and do the thing she’s been trained to do—eavesdrop on the conversation, gather intel, listen for weaknesses, decipher tone, use it all like currency. But she doesn’t.
Not out of courtesy. Please.
It’s just… it’s complicated.
With Bucky—everything’s complicated now.
She walks quietly through the hallway of the half-dead garage, sidestepping collapsed shelves, a busted tire jack, and a trail of cigarette butts that no one’s owned up to—which she will be adding to shortly, she’s sure. The air smells like burnt rubber and the kind of damp you can’t clean out.
She steps into the main room, pausing just inside what used to be a doorway—now just a fractured frame where drywall dreams go to die. Her shoulder meets the wall, casual, like she belongs there. Like she hasn’t rehearsed this fifty-seven times and overthought exactly how she’s gonna play this.
“I see you got your mission, Congressman.” 
Bucky jolts so hard he nearly punches the window.
She stifles a smirk. How is he still not used to her?
“What...” He blinks, scrambling. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
She smiles. “That any way to greet your wife?”
“Are you spying on me?”
Rolling her eyes, “Like I have nothing better to do?”
“Then that brings me back to my original question: what the fuck are you doing here?”
She pushes off the wall and steps into the center of the room. The place looks like it was once used to service cars—or kill people. Hard to say, really. Now it’s just a bunker with no warmth, all cement and shadows.
At the heart of it is the pit—a literal drop in the floor that now functions as a holding cell. Bucky’s version of hospitality.
Across it, her husband’s captives are arranged in two halves like a dysfunctional debate team: Yelena and Walker on one side.
Ava and… Yelena and Natasha’s dad on the other.
She knows who he is, of course. Big guy. Loud voice. Soviet dad jokes. His name’s just… gone. Floating somewhere behind three years of classified codenames and one hell of a breakup.
“She called me,” Y/n says just as Yelena chimes in, “I called her.”
“Why would you call her?” Big Soviet Dad glares at Yelena like she’s just committed a war crime. “You don’t call your father, but you call her?” He motions to Y/n with bound hands. “The traitor?”
Y/n pulls a face.
Traitor? 
Is she missing something here?
“Can you fly?” Yelena asks, deadpan, like it’s the most natural redirect in the world. There is barely any time to react before she adds, “Bob can fly—she can fly.”
“You can fly?” Ava snaps her gaze over, eyes wide behind—what must be—the power dampener cuffs clamped around her wrists.
“She can fly,” Bucky answers before she can.
“I can levitate,” Y/n corrects. Precision matters.
“Really?” Walker adds, sounding more intrigued than skeptical. “How?”
They all look so genuinely interested, it’d be rude not to answer.
“I can create small portals under my feet,” she says, raising a boot and conjuring one—a glowing circle, pink and ridiculous and very much hers. “And then I can just… walk on air, I guess.”
She takes a casual step upward, lets the portal flicker under her sole, then blinks it out again.
“That is the same as flying,” Yelena chides, tone flat, as if Y/n has just said something outrageously dumb.
Y/n shakes her head. “Nope,” she says. “Flying’s more efficient.”
“You can teleport from one place to other. That is cool and efficient. Flying is stupid. Why do you want to be stupid?” Yelena and Natasha’s dad says, with such unwavering conviction in his eyes, she actually falters.
She shifts her weight, one foot to the other. “…I know I’m gonna sound profoundly stupid when I say this, but—I never thought of it that way… so… thanks?”
“You are welcome, traitorous viper.”
Her face contorts. Pure confusion.
Where the fuck, she thinks, is this hostility even coming from?
But honestly, Y/n doesn’t have the bandwidth to figure it out. Not today. “Okay… sure. Whatever,” she mutters, walking deeper into the room, still vaguely baffled. “Come on, Yelena. We’re leaving.”
It’s almost comforting, how predictably fast her husband moves.
Bucky intercepts her before she can reach Yelena’s cuffs, blocking her path with that same ex-soldier precision that used to give her butterflies. 
Now it just gives her a headache.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She straightens, chin lifting. “Getting her out of here.”
“You can’t,” Bucky says, calm but firm.
That makes her tilt her head. Slowly. Dangerously. “Is that so?”
He sighs. The kind of sigh that says you’re being unreasonable again—like she hasn’t made a career out of walking that line on purpose. “I need this,” he says. “It’s evidence against Valentina.”
And that shouldn't piss her off as much as it does.
But it does.
“She, as in my client, will be happy to testify against Valentina,” Y/n snaps, “if you can get her full immunity.”
Bucky laughs.
Not a real laugh. Not the kind she used to love.
It’s short and mocking, laced with disbelief, like she just told him the moon’s a hologram. 
“She was part of a shadow ops unit assembled specifically to erase evidence in an ongoing Senate investigation. Full immunity isn’t even in the same zip code.”
Y/n smiles then. Cold. Razor-edged. “The Winter Soldier was found guilty of twelve assassinations,” she says, voice dangerously casual. “Including the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. And I got you a fucking pardon.” 
That quiets the room.
Every eye is on her now.
She jerks her chin toward Yelena, who’s straining to watch the fireworks from her seat. “She was following orders,” Y/n continues, “from the Director of the CIA. You bet your perfect little ass I can get her full fucking immunity.”
“You’re getting cocky, don’t you think?” Bucky’s voice is low, but there's heat underneath it now.
She steps closer. That mocking smile still frozen in place. “No. You are.” She jabs a finger toward Yelena. “I am taking her.”
“I cannot let you do that.”
“You can’t stop me. What are you gonna do?” she spits. “Arrest her?”
“Yes.”
She snorts, a burst of disbelief escaping her. “You can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
She shakes her head slowly, mouth curled into something venomous and victorious. “Because you’re a fucking Congressman, dear.”
The word lands like a slap.
And then it’s quiet.
They just stare at each other.
The kind of stare that lasts too long. That holds too much.
He doesn’t flinch.
Neither does she.
There’s no yelling. No weapons.
Just years of history compressed into a single, unbearable silence.
She can see his jaw tick. The slight twitch in his left hand. The way his chest rises just a little faster.
He’s not going to back down.
But neither is she.
And for one sharp, suspended moment, it feels like the world might actually crack under the weight of whatever the hell still exists between them.
It’s weird, she thinks. It’s fucking weird to have to fight with this man over this—to fight with him over anything at all… other than doing the dishes. It seems like it was yesterday that he’d stare other people down like this, for her. 
God! How much can things change in nine months?
“Is it just me, or has the tension risen remarkably in the last three minutes?” Yelena chimes in, bone-dry.
“No,” Walker says. “I feel it too.”
“Yes, yes, I agree,” the Big Soviet Dad adds, far too chipper for a man in restraints. “Very tensed.”
“And I cannot tell if it’s violent or sexual,” Ava muses aloud, genuinely perplexed.
Bucky clicks his tongue then—just once. And a small, sad smirk curves his lips. The kind Y/n hates. The kind that used to mean trouble, or flirting, or both.
“There was a time it wouldn’t matter,” he says quietly.
Motherfucker.
It slices through her. A scalpel of a sentence, said too lightly, meant too deeply.
She doesn’t get a second to recover. No chance to armor up. Because Walker, in his infinite, all-American brilliance, decides to blurt:
“You two broke up.”
And just like that, it happens.
Her eyes lock with Bucky’s across the room.
She hates how fast it happens. How automatic. Like muscle memory.
And for a second—just one suspended, impossible second—the world narrows.
She sees all of it. Every piece of the wreckage.
The late-night fights. The mornings where neither of them spoke. The mission she didn’t tell him about. The thing he didn’t say when it really, really mattered.
The distance. The silence.
The refusal to admit that love had never stopped being there, even when it got ugly.
His eyes are darker now. Tired. Like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.
She wonders if she still looks the same to him. Or if he only sees the parts that hurt.
God, she used to know what he was thinking. Used to be able to read the tiniest shift in his face like a headline. Now it’s like trying to decipher a language she used to speak fluently—but forgot.
She feels her throat tighten, stupidly. Embarrassingly.
But she doesn't look away.
And neither does he.
They just stare, caught in whatever’s left between them—whatever hasn’t been burned to ash. And there’s a lot of ash.
“What are you talking about?” the big Soviet dad blurts out, accent thick—especially on the t’s, like he’s trying to punch them through the drywall. “Of course they didn’t break up! They are everywhere! I saw pictures in the newspaper—from gala last night. They looked perfect. As always.” 
There’s a hint of annoyance in the last word—like the compliment physically injured him—but Y/n lets it slide. She’s too busy watching her husband’s face. Trying to read it. Trying and failing.
“They’re the superhero it-couple,” Ava says, nodding. “I read somewhere that Oprah wants to come out of retirement to interview them.”
“This is crazy—even for you, Walker,” Yelena mutters. “Bucky and Y/n would never break up.”
And isn’t that funny? How absolutely no one believes it. Not because they’re so in sync. But because no one ever imagined them not in orbit around each other—even if the orbit was violent.
“You won’t believe me when I say it, but I wish I was wrong…” Walker says, voice lower now. “But I’m not. Am I?”
The question is aimed squarely at them.
Someone’s gotta answer.
Y/n clenches her jaw so tight it’s a miracle her molars don’t crack. “If you were right—and that’s a big if—how the fuck would you even clock it?”
Walker just looks at her. And it’s not smug. Not triumphant.
It’s sad. 
There’s this horrible broken look in his eyes when he answers. “From personal experience.”
Oh.
Fuck.
Of course.
His wife left him. Took the kid. The house. The future.
Of course he would be the first one to see it. Not that she and Bucky were being subtle—she knows that. But most people just chalk up their animosity to regular old Y/n-brand bickering. The same bickering she’s famous for, loved for. Loud, messy, affectionate chaos.
But Walker? That asshole would recognize heartbreak.
Because he lives in it.
And then there’s the part where he’s partially responsible for it. That just makes her want to punch through the nearest wall.
She doesn’t say anything.
She doesn’t need to.
Because then—like he’s been waiting for the perfect time to twist the knife—Walker asks:
“Why?”
Almost like he can hear her spiraling.
Her hands curl into fists. Her lungs are tight. It enrages her—awfully—that he would even ask.
But before she can speak, Bucky cuts in. “You fucking know why, John.”
She sees it—clear as day—the way Bucky’s answer throws Walker off. Knocks something loose behind his eyes. And Y/n knows, right then and there, that she can’t do this anymore.
Not right now.
Not one more question about them. Not from Walker. Not from anyone.
The next one might break her, and she’s not breaking in this fucking garage surrounded by handcuffed vigilantes and her ex, who she pretends to still be together with to maintain his approval rating as a Congressman.
So she pushes past Bucky—shoulder brushing his as she moves. It's firm, not aggressive, but definitely not gentle either. Deliberate.
Her boots echo over the concrete floor as she crosses to the pit. Kneeling beside Yelena, hands halfway raised toward the cuffs, she mutters— “Come on, Yelena. We’re getting out of here.”
But Yelena doesn’t move. “I’m not coming with you,” she says flatly.
Y/n freezes, halfway crouched, a breath caught in her throat. “…What?”
“I didn’t call you to get me out of this,” Yelena replies, voice calm, arms resting loosely on her knees.
Y/n rises slightly from her crouch, weight shifting to the balls of her feet. “Then what the fuck am I doing here?”
Yelena looks up at her, unfazed. “I called you to help out with Bob.”
Y/n blinks.
“Who the fuck is Bob?”
She sighs—loudly, dramatically—the kind of sigh that makes it clear she’s two seconds away from breaking something. It's the sigh of someone who’s clearly being forced to explain the same thing for the second time. Maybe it is the second time. Y/n wouldn’t know.
Fuck.
She should’ve eavesdropped.
Complicated emotions with Bucky be damned—this is exactly the kind of intel she’s supposed to catch. But no, she’d chosen dignity. Privacy. Emotional boundaries.
Rookie mistake.
“He was with us inside the vault,” Yelena says, her tone flat like she’s been over this already.
Y/n narrows her eyes. Her pulse skips.
She does not like where this is going.
“Wait,” she says slowly, standing straighter, “you mean the guy from last night? The one who shot into the sky, crash-landed like a goddamn asteroid, and casually created the second Grand Canyon in the middle of Utah without a single fucking scratch on him?”
“You know about that already?” Walker asks, brow furrowed.
“Of course she knows,” Bucky says before she can even open her mouth. There’s no sarcasm in it. No bite. Just fact.
It lands with the kind of weight only familiarity can carry.
The kind of sentence that says: She always knows.
“Yeah,” Yelena confirms, nodding toward the ground like she’s mentally reviewing disaster reports. “That is Bob.”
Y/n blinks once. Then twice.
Nope. Still doesn’t like it.
“Valentina did something to him.”
Y/n holds up a hand, eyes shut tight for half a second, like she’s bracing for impact. “Please don’t say it.”
Yelena does not give to fucks. “It’s called Project Sentry.”
“You said it.” Y/n groans, rubbing her temple like she can massage the coming ulcer out of existence. “Goddamn it.”
“You know about that too?” Walker asks, visibly struggling to catch up.
Y/n straightens fully, frustration crackling in her every movement. “About Valentina’s delusional wet dream of having a pet superhero? Yeah, of course I know about it!”
“How?” Walker’s voice sharpens—his confusion bordering on accusatory now.
Y/n barely has time to formulate the insult in her head before Bucky answers for her again. “Because it’s her fucking job to know.”
She doesn’t thank him. She doesn’t look at him. She just lets that one ride—because yeah, it is her job. And she’s so fucking tired of doing it.
But Walker—dumb, bulldozing Walker—keeps going.
“Then why didn’t you stop her?” He says it like he’s caught her red-handed. Like she wanted this to happen.
And if that isn’t the funniest thing she’s heard in weeks.
She laughs. Short, bitter, and loud. Whirls on him with venom in her voice and fire in her eyes. “You shittin’ me, Walker?” Slowly she takes account of the room before she begins, “Everyone in this room exists because someone wanted to build a better weapon. Some country, some organisation, some genius-in-a-garage thought: wouldn’t it be neat if we could make a superhero?” She starts pacing. Slowly. Her boots scuff the concrete, her fists tight at her sides like she’s wringing the answer out of herself just to stay standing. “We’re hot fucking commodity, man—more precise than a drone, less of a PR disaster than a nuke.” Her smile turns razor-sharp, practically carved into her face. She pivots mid-step, pointing to herself with mock drama. “We’d be the primary defense infrastructure of every country on this godforsaken planet if we were just a little cheaper to make.” 
A beat. 
“And a lotta bit easier to control.”
She lets out a sharp, humorless snort. It's almost a laugh, but not quite. “Everyone and their mother is making a superhero, Walker. So tell me—how the fuck am I supposed to stop them? Better yet, who the fuck am I to do it?”
There’s silence.
Tension.
And then Walker sits up as much as the rope and rebar will allow, straightening his spine like he’s about to deliver some grand truth. “You’re the last of the Avengers.”
Y/n turns toward him slowly. There’s no fury in her face now. Just quiet disbelief.
You gotta hand it to the guy—he’s got fight. And the raw, stupid courage to say it.
What a shame he’s so fucking stupid.
“That’s some real spicy bullshit,” she says, voice low and cutting. “Sam is the last of the Avengers—I was their lawyer.”
Walker opens his mouth again, and she already knows she’s not going to like what comes out. “You’re Steve Rogers’ ex-girlfriend. You’re Tony Stark’s sister. You’re fucking legacy.”
And that word—it hits different.
It’s supposed to mean something.
But for people like her, it never means what they want it to mean.
She drops to a crouch in front of him, slow and deliberate, so they’re eye to eye. So he can feel her words rattle in his bones. 
She stares at him hard. Doesn’t blink.
“The only legacy the likes of us get to have,” she says, voice like gravel and goddamn scripture, “is death, Johnny boy.” She leans in, just a fraction. Just enough to make sure it burns. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”
And then—of course—the phone rings.
It’s Bucky’s.
He wordlessly turns and walks toward the far corner, back to the broken window he always gravitates to when he needs space he won't get. He answers it like it's routine.
“Yes?”
Yelena immediately starts bickering with her father.
Y/n tunes it out.
Bucky’s tone shifts—quieter. “What is it?”
Y/n—now done surgically dismantling Walker’s soul—rises to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her jeans just for something to do. Her knees ache. Her heart aches more.
She glances around. Walker looks worn down. Ava looks unsure. Honestly? Y/n is pretty sure she looks worse than both of them. All this—this room—it’s a mess of ghosts and grudges. Her husband. Her best friend’s baby sister. Her best friend’s complicated dad. The two people who have fucked her over the most in the last year without really meaning to. Y/nual Tuesday.
“Project Sentry?” Bucky asks into the phone, eyes flicking up to meet hers. It’s a glance. That’s all. But it’s a habit from when they were together. A habit that Bucky hasn’t given up—almost as if he’s refused to give it up.
Yelena shushes her father instantly, spine straightening at the mention.
Every head in the room swivels toward Bucky.
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“What guy?” he asks the caller, and Y/n watches his face as it drops into full 'you’ve got to be fucking kidding me' mode.
“Bob?” he says, with the exact same level of disdain one reserves for finding out their date thinks the earth is flat.
Y/n has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing.
“Bob!” the four captives shout in unison, victorious. Vindicated.
And that does make her laugh. Just a quick, exasperated sound that escapes before she can smother it.
On the other end of the line—Y/n doesn’t need to guess—it’s Mel. Valentina’s very tired assistant. Whatever she says, it makes Bucky go still.
He’s quiet. Listening.
And then his face changes. Just barely. The edges go sharp, eyes narrowing—focused, serious, and that thing she recognizes like the back of her hand.
Then he hangs up.
He stares at his phone for a second too long before tucking it away. Everyone in the room’s watching him now. Like they’re waiting for a verdict.
And he gives it, deadpan:
“Bob.”
“Bob,” they all repeat, like it’s a prayer or a punchline.
“How many times…?” Big Soviet Dad chides under his breath.
Then Bucky looks at her.
And there it is again—that look. Not a glare. Not a plea. Just… searching. He’s looking for something in her face that she doesn’t know how to give him anymore. That hurts. And not in a poetic, aching-heart way. It hurts in a bone-deep, I-might-explode-if-you-don’t-stop-looking-at-me-like-that way.
“It’s bad, Bucky,” Yelena says quietly.
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Y/n sees it then—the decision building behind his eyes. Weighing options, calculating risk, doing the responsible adult thing for all of five seconds—before hurling that entire thought process straight into the nearest dumpster fire.
He begins uncuffing his captives, one by one.
He takes the chains off of Yelena and Natash’s dad first then walks over to Ava and starts undoing her power-dampening cuffs.
“What are you doing?” Ava asks, more curious than alarmed.
“I’m letting you go,” he says simply. “You’re coming with me.”
“Why?” Ava presses, as he walks over to Walker.
“Shhh!” Big Soviet Dad interrupts. “For the glory…” he adds gravely with poorly hidden excitement.
Y/n rolls her eyes so hard it’s a miracle she doesn’t dislocate something.
“Well,” Bucky says, yanking the rebar off of Walker’s wrists with a grunt. “You know Valentina. She’s got this thing out there.” He moves to Yelena and begins untying her rope. “People are gonna get hurt. And I gotta stop it.” He straightens near the window again, that old posture—the soldier, the leader—settling into his shoulders like armor. “And you’re gonna help me.”
There’s a pause.
“Wait, us?” Yelena asks, rubbing her wrists, visibly caught off-guard.
“Why? You got someplace to be?” Bucky replies without missing a beat.
There’s a silence. Not long, but long enough. Y/n watches it land across Yelena’s face—a flicker of hesitation, of doubt, of maybe wanting to run.
She knows that look.
She’s worn that look.
“Bucky, you have the wrong people,” Yelena finally says.
He meets her eyes, and for the first time since he walked into this place, he speaks from somewhere deep. For the first time since this conversation began, Bucky is honest. “Look, I’ve been where you are,” he begins, empathy clear in his words, his eyes, his tone. “You can run but it doesn’t go away. Sooner or later it catches up to you—and when it does, it’s too late… So you can either do something about it now… or live with it forever…”
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The words hang in the air.
Y/n watches them land—in Yelena’s chest, in Walker’s shoulders, in Ava’s careful, clinical stillness and Big Soviet Dad’s eyes that look desperately to his daughter.
Yelena exhales. Loudly. Her head drops for a second. When she looks up, her face has changed. 
Set. Solid. Tired.
“Stop Val and save Bob,” she says. Then she turns to Walker.
He looks just as tired as her. “Fine.”
“Hmm?” she asks again, chin raised.
“Yeah,” he says, even less firm than before. Worn down, but still in the fight.
They turn to Ava, expectant.
She nods after a brief pause. Slow, thoughtful. “Go on then.”
And then they turn to Yelena and Natasha’s dad who just—”YESSSSSSSS!!!! YESSSSS” 
Y/n has got to say Big Soviet Da—RED GUARDIAN! That’s his fucking name! Red fucking Guardian! Alexie Shostakov! That was his goddamn name! She said it would come to her, didn’t she?!
In the excitement of having figured it out, she clicks her fingers grabbing everyone’s attention immediately.
Then they’re all staring at her.
“What?” She asks, a little scared.
“What do you think?” Yelena bites back.
“Stop Val and save Bob?”
“Yes,” Yelena answers, like she’s unbelievably annoyed.
“No,” Y/n tells her.
Her response seems to piss Yelena off. “Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“NO!”
“Why not?” comes Bucky’s voice, soft and gentle.
It makes her turn, on instinct, on habit—perhaps similar to his, one she doesn’t want to get rid of. It’s this same reluctance that perhaps is what enrages her more. “You know why not!”
He sighs with his eyes so, so kind. “Y/n…”
His tone is too sweet, too fucking sweet. 
She’s glad for the interruption from Yelena. “You have to help.”
“No, I don’t,” she bites back.
“Yes, you do!”
“No, I—”
Yelena cuts her off. “You are the most powerful person I know, and you promised.”
“Yelena…”
“You promised.”
Now, everyone knows Y/n is a mountain that isn’t the easiest to move. She’s more stubborn than a mule, so much so that she once got into a screaming match with the former Captain America over freedom and government. 
So yes, she’s stubborn. Very stubborn.
“Fine,” Y/n acquiesce.
She gives in. 
“What?” Bucky yells out, clearly surprised by the surrender. “Just like that? A stern look and some puppy dog eyes and suddenly you’re on board?”
“Yes,” Y/n says, battle lost.
“WHY?!” Bucky shouts.
She sighs, before she says, “Because her sister told me I was her legacy and then obviously died. Which means I gotta take care of it—which means I gotta take care of her!” She throws her hands up in defeat, “Okay?” Everyone looks at her as if she’s losing her mind. And she might as well be. 
Look, what you have got to understand, what no one might ever understand—not unless they have experienced loss—is that when someone you love dies, you’re left with all this love. You’re left on the side of the street in the pouring rain, with this massive pile of love in your arms and you don’t know where to fucking put it. It doesn’t fit in your closet. It doesn’t look good next to the bookshelves and the bedside table is sure as shit not big enough to house it. You cannot put it up in the attic—because come on! You want to be able to look at it. Of course, you do! 
So then the question becomes:
Where the fuck are you supposed to put it?
Like it or not, it spills.
Try as you might to hold it tight to your chest, to manage it, to fold it into something quieter—it slips through. It gets on things. On people.
It always spills over.
And in this particular case, the love Y/n had—has—for Natasha Romanoff has spilled all over Yelena Belova. It just has. It wasn’t a mistake—she would not call it a mistake. It was almost inevitable. 
Yelena’s so very different from Natasha in so many ways, in almost every single way but there’s this thing in her eyes. Y/n thinks it’s probably the crazy kind of drive that both sisters shared. But it could, just as easily, be kind determination. 
Either way, there’s something. Something that tugs at her, that hurts, because it reminds Y/n too much of what she lost. What she’s still holding. And that’s why she can’t walk away.
Which is the reason why she now has to protect Natasha’s legacy and by proxy, she has to protect Yelena.
The group of captives begin to get to their feet, as her inner monologue continues to let her spiral.
“So yeah! I will help you stop Val and save Bob, but in the interest of full disclosure? I am not the most powerful person you know.” She reaches out and helps Yelena up.
“Yes, you are!” Yelena looks beyond frustrated. “This is not the time to be humble.”
“I am not being humble,” Y/n points out. “I used to be the most powerful person you knew… Now it’s Bob.”
Read the next part here. Read the part where Natasha calls y/n her legacy here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here.
next one will give a bit more context to the time skip situation, i swear
@mirandastuckinthe80s @rattyfishrock @jeyramarie @yourbane @yikesdrama
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crazyaboutto · 2 months ago
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What a shit show on Twitter and Reddit
This account is MCU!Natasha hate-free
I can’t believe people in 2025 are still pitting actresses against each other. Scarlett is talented. So is Florence. Yelena got her chance to shine and get character development well without being sexualised to hell and back
Meanwhile, Natasha was sexualised since IM2 to Endgame by all those male writers, directors and ofc Joss whedon. Whedon who basically cut her off in most scenes and made Nat Bruce’s nanny/mother/lover. Then in CACW, it was just about Tony and Steve. She got sidelined. She barely had screen time in AIW and ofc got killed off without much scenes in EG. Not to mention her leadership for 5 years between AIW and EG got taken from her the moment men (Steve and Tony) who weren’t even in the team anymore got back to Avengers HQ.
Ffs her suits throughout years until aiw were sexualised too. And all those posters showing arse or boob or thinning Scarlett’s waist. Or giving her heeled boots for no reason other than “women should look hot”
As much as I love Black Widow movie, Yelena got more spotlight than Natasha. And also by adding countless widow, they also basically made Black Widow title worthless
Scarlett Johansson walked so rest of female superheroes can run. From being the only female superhero in the team, we now have multiple female superheroes in teams. She didn’t have her scene in “A-Force” Easter egg despite she starting female superhero in MCU in 2010. She didn’t even fight in EG ffs. My EG hatred is coming back
Florence Pugh basically says this too, e.g. how much Scarlett helped her. She would say “what a fucking idiot” to those commenters since she knows her character would get the same treatment if not for Scarlett pushing for better after getting more power in the industry. She also knows if it was 00s and 10s, her character would be sexualised af like Natasha
And all those people are complaining about Scarlett and Nay while none are saying anything about Joss Whedon, Jon Favreau, Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely and Russo Brothers!!
Men get away with anything they screw up whilst women get criticised for the things that aren’t in their hands
We deserve more Widow sisters scenes. We deserve better writing for Natasha. We deserve sexualisation free Widows
I still wish they kept comics origins and certain character relationships such as Alexei being Nat’s ex and BuckyNat (I’m also Romanogers shipper) instead of free styling
Oh gosh Bucky was pretty much side character as well but they developed him well over the years along with all male heroes. Clint too was sidelined and he was just there and he got time and opportunity to shine but they didn’t have time for female lead of Avengers movies and freaking leader of Avengers
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olsenmyolsen · 2 years ago
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You Have Me For The Night (18+)
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master list
dark master list
MCU AU (Female Reader X WandaNat)
Summary: You need a job and money. Luckily, Natasha Romanoff knows exactly what you can do.
Word Count: 11.7K
Content: Heavy Smut! Sex!!! Fingering, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Edging, Begging, Strap, Praise, switch!Wanda, Transactional Relationship, Corruption kink(?), Oral, Handjob, Aftercare, Feelings
Also special thanks to @lesbianpizza for their help from time to time ❤️
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Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff were stuck, and they knew it.
To be more specific, their marriage was stuck.
They loved each other deeply and cared for one another more than themselves. But between training, missions, and the workload of it all. They never ended up on the same page. Or together. In fact, it had been weeks upon weeks since Natasha had touched Wanda and vice versa.
So when week five turned into six. Both of the women felt like they were losing it. Wanda wanted to cry because Nat was across the globe while Natasha wanted to capture their mark and kill the man who made her miss her very spicy scheduled FaceTime call with her little Wands.
But here's where you come in.
You see. You've always been.. flexible. Open-minded.
And with a little download of a very specific new app and a background check using SHIELD encrypted servers led one wife... renting... you for the other.
But we're getting a little ahead of ourselves. So let's back it up a bit and show what happened before you pulled up to a lovely house in upstate New York.
"How's the job hunt going?" Your best friend and roommate Ava Starr asked, making you sigh. Truth be told, since your girlfriend up and left you five months ago for her coworker Jean. You haven't done much of anything. I mean, you cried and got angry and cried again. Got sad. Thought about adopting a cat. But didn't and then cried about not adopting the cat. On top of that, since your father's recent death, you've been coasting off his inheritance. But that money was slowly disappearing.
Hence, the job hunt.
"Oh, it's going.." You reply while you skim through Netflix before switching to Hulu, not satisfied with any of the options. Ava huffs from the kitchen before entering the living room and yanking the Roku remote from your hand, turning the TV off. "Hey!" You barely moved from your laying position on the couch.
Ava walks in front of you, making you eye level with her legs. "Did you use my razor? Your legs are looking better than normal." "Y/N!" Your roommate exclaims, making you look up to her. "Get up." You shake your head. "No."
"Y/N."
"I don't want to." Ava rolls her eyes at you. "Y/N. Now." You groan loudly and annoyingly before sitting up. "Child." Ava huffs at you before sitting right next to you. "Have you at least gone out?"
You know what Ava is getting at. The have you tried dating or hooking up? Question. "Tuesday night." You reply, making Ava furrow her eyebrows before she closes them. "Y/N. You and I went out for Chinese on Tuesday night!"
"I went out!" You whine. "With me. We're not dating!" Ava yells and pushes your shoulder lovingly. "We could."
"We could what?"
"Date." You wiggle your eyebrows as Ava laughs. "No. We couldn't. You're not my type."
"What to pretty?"
"Too annoying." She beat you there. "Besides. You know what I'm getting at." Ava gets up to check on her pasta. You let your body go limp and slide down the couch, forcing your sweatshirt to ride up, exposing your stomach. "Did you even try the apps I downloaded for you!" Ava yells from the kitchen. You mumble in response to her that she surprisingly hears.
"Maybe you just need something new," Ava spoke as she came into the room again with a bowl in her hand. "Maybe." You reply. "Where's your phone?" Ava asks as you slide back up the couch, pulling your shirt down. "I don't know somewhere ar-"
"I got it."
You shrugged as Ava typed in your password and searched through the App Store for you. She started asking you questions, but you were too focused on stealing her bowl of food to notice. She even slapped your hand away when you weren't being as sneaky as you thought.
"Oh, can it." Says your so-called best friend.
You sniffed loudly as she handed your phone back to you. "What is it?" You asked, looking at an empty profile of yourself. "I downloaded an app called hush. It's supposed to solve the two biggest problems you are doing nothing about. Basically, have sex. Get money."
You looked through the photos of the women on the app and felt your face getting warm. "How did you find out about it?" You asked, unable to pull your eyes away from a blonde woman named Carol. "I didn't. It was new. But the reviews seem to be nothing but praise. Plus, only women are allowed to use it. I think it connects to your phone account or something.. I don't know... I just signed you up and hit okay every time a thing popped up." That made you pull your eyes away.
"What if I'm signed up to have like my kidneys harvested or something!?" Ava shrugs at you and spins a forkful of noodles. "It'll be better than to hear you close and reopen Netflix fifteen times a night."
"You're being mean tonight."
"Only because I love you."
You got that right.
You flip through the profile and information tabs. "hush haven for under satisfied hores..?" You did a double-take as you read the words again. Ava snickered while watching you. "They spelled whores wrong." You pointed out, making Ava smack you on the arm.
"Okay, so once I upload my.. pictures.." You look to Ava, who nods along. "And select which category I'm in. Giver or Muse... Then it looks like I wait until someone swipes on me. And then the conversation can start.."
Ava sets her bowl of food down and leans over to help you. "Alright. Let's get to work." She states, forcing you to look at her dumbfounded. "But I was going to look through my.." "Nudes?" She cuts you off. "So what, dude? I've known you half your life. Grow up." Ava makes a point and grabs the phone out of your hand. You don't even try to fight because you get distracted by her pasta. Not wasting another second, you grab it and shove a forkful in your mouth.
"Hey!" Ava finally looks up from the phone. "Come on! I bought dinner on Tuesday." You claim, which Ava rolls her eyes at. "Fine." Ava goes back to your phone before she remembers. "Wait, no, you didn't! I did!"
It's a wonder how you ended up in the bedroom of Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff.
As Ava and you set aside your food-related differences and finish setting up your profile. Across the globe, The Black Widow is sitting in a dingy one-bedroom flat waiting for her ride home after taking down an illegal arms operation.
When her phone rings, she expects it to be Wanda but gets disappointed when it's a bald one-eyed man. "Fury," Natasha says in a manner only she can to a superior. "Romanoff." He replies. "I see you didn't run into any trouble on your little excursion." He smiles, knowing Natasha isn't. "Just the usual. Wasn't even a challenge. I made one guy break his own arm just so he wouldn't have to deal with me."
Fury raises an eyebrow. "I'm sure he was more than happy to do so." Natasha shrugs. "Eh, I still pepper-sprayed him." Natasha leans back in the wooden chair she's in. "So what's the call for?"
"I got some intel on a dark web app called hushquietly launching. Don't know if it's legit. Don't know if it's not. But I figured while I got you waiting on a ride, you could help me out. What do you say, Romanoff?"
Natasha sighs. Nicks got her. "I'll let you know what I find."
"Appreciate it. Say hi to Misses for me when you get home." The line goes dead, and Natasha is left wondering about Wanda. Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes. Her body. How much she misses her touch. How badly she wants to be with her right now. To feel her.
She dips her back and bites her lip before remembering where she was. "Goddamnit!" Natasha curses and storms off to gather her laptops and get to work.
Safe to say, over the next couple of hours, Natasha couldn't find anything on this so-called hush. The keyword existed but not in a way that would be important to SHIELD or The Avengers. Natasha even scoured the ligament app stores repeatedly, and nothin- "Wait a minute.." Natasha leaned forward and clicked on an app that she could've sworn wasn't there a second ago.
Once the app opened, it was apparent that this was not what Fury was looking for. But.. Natasha didn't stop... She looked over the fine detail of the signup menu and the tagline below.
"A special someone for your special someone."
She looked over the full name of the app before she made sure to think about what she was doing. The line between right and wrong was a little blurry. But the line in the sand was quickly drawn when Natsah's phone went off.
A text from her wife.
"I don't know when you'll see this, Milaya, but I just want you to know that while I think about you every day... right now, I'm thinking about you in a way that makes me cry because you can't fuck me."
Attached was a photo of her Sokovian in Natasha's favorite red lingerie set.
Natasha's fingers hovered over the keys to type a response before stopping herself and smiling.
Not too much later, a message was sent.
Natasha leaned back in her chair, smiling, sipping on a beer. On her laptop was every single thing she could find about you. When everything came up green, and the a-okay was given to Natasha's brain, she let you know your services would be required.
Natasha held her phone and double-checked that the cameras inside and outside the house were in working order.
They were.
"This should be fun."
Ding!
Your phone lit up with a notification from hush. It worked. Whatever you and Ava did worked. "Dude!" Ava looked at the message from a very hot redhead named Natalie. "You have to take this!" You paused your show and looked at the message. You barely skimmed it before you saw the price that was being offered to you. That made you go over and re-read everything Natalie sent.
"I told you the Halloween Catsuit picture would be a good choice!" Ava cheered as you clicked on the pictures of Natalie. You knew the pictures had to be of her. The app ran an algorithm that detected fake/ai photos. So, was Natalie like a model? Or just sculpted by the gods? What did they need you for? 
But as you re-read the message for a third time. You still couldn't believe it.
"Hello Y/N,
I'm just going to cut straight to the chase. I want your services tonight for my wife, Wendy.
I'm away on business, and lately, I haven't been able to give my wife the satisfaction she needs. So, inquiring someone as beautifully stunning as you isn't a wrong place to ask. I'm willing to spend $10,000 for tonight's services and hoping we can bend the rules a little. If you accept, we will discuss more.
Hope to hear from you ;)"
You stared down at your phone, unaware of Ava reading over your shoulder. Your only focus was on three things.
1. Natalie wants you to fuck her wife. 2. She called you beautifully stunning, which means she's seen your pics, and that made you get very, very, very warm. 3. $10,000.
Your phone dinged again as a new message appeared while your brain was processing.
Okay, now there was one more thing on your mind.
Natalie's wife, Wendy.
"After this, I won't be able to send you anything else until you accept. So, with that in mind, Y/N, here's a picture of Wendy from Halloween last year. I thought you might enjoy this since you posted that very sexy Catsuit photo from Halloween. Anyways, cute, right? Just imagine what she's like when she is begging to be fucked like the slut she is."
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The accept button was staring at you in the face.
After looking at a picture like that, how could you say no?
"She's gorgeous," Ava spoke up for the both of you. You just nodded before moving your lips. "She is." Then it dawned on you once again."Holy fuck."
Wendy's wife was about to pay you $10,000 to have sex with someone that you'd pay to hurl slurs at you. Not that you think Wendy would, but you get the point.
Natasha's phone beeped on the bedside table where she was staying. She leaned over, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and bike shorts, having changed after Fury told her that her ride would be delayed.
Anyways. It wasn't Wanda or Fury messaging her.
It was you.
She smiled and felt the giddiness run through her body when she read the words: "I accept."
The money hit your account quicker than you thought possible. Seconds after you accepted Natalie's offer, the money was there.
Along with an address and Natalie's preferences for what you should wear for Wendy.
- No Panties - Black Dress - Black Tights - Black Heels - Peach Lipstick
You didn't know why it had to be peach lipstick, but when you asked Natalie, she told you to "ask Wendy."
Regardless, Ava and you couldn't believe it. You couldn't think that this was actually happening. That this was going to work. Which meant you couldn't believe that you had to tell Ava that she was right for once.
Luckily, Ava didn't let it get to her head. (She did, especially because she just happened to have the peach lipstick you needed.)
Ava offered to drive you to the location typed in, in your maps app, but you've seen the way she drives, and you'd like to arrive in one piece, so you Ubered.
"Couple of minutes out." You messaged "Natalie".
Unbeknownst to you was that Natasha was already tracking you. Laying in bed, one arm propping her up, she watched a little dot, you, arrive closer and closer to the house she and her wife, Wanda, shared.
Natasha could imagine your face sprinkled with curiosity as the Uber made its way up the winding road that was their driveway.
Even better was the fact that Wanda knew nothing. After messaging her wife earlier, she had to be left to her own devices, which was nice and all, but Wanda was missing contact. Her vibrator and fingers could only do so much. She missed the touch of someone on her body. Lips on her own. Fingers in her hair. She needed it and more!
Badly!!
Wanda turned off the living room TV after not paying attention to anything for the last half hour and was ready to head upstairs when her phone started ringing.
Stopping in front of the stairs, she smiled. "Hi, baby!" Wanda giggled, hoping Natasha would be home soon. "Hi detka." Her wife replied. "How are you?" Wanda asked as she ran up the stairs to peel off her sweats she put on following her afternoon activities. "I'm good Wands. Waiting for my ride out. So I'll be home later than scheduled."
Wandastoppedmoving as her pants fell to the ground, revealing the red strap she put on earlier just for Natasha. "Oh.." The disappointment in Wanda's voice was evident. "Wanda-" "No, it's okay, Tasha. I get it." Wanda sadly took off her top and was about to remove the harness when Natasha's voice spoke up on speaker. "Stop what you're doing!"
Wanda froze her movement. "Don't take that off!" Natasha spoke again. "How did- cameras." Even though Wanda couldn't see it, her wife smiled. "Turn around for me, beautiful." Wanda took her hands off the strap and turned around to the camera in the corner of the ceiling. Smiling at it when she saw the red light glowing underneath it.
Natasha was watching.
"Was that for me?" Natasha smirked. "It was."Wanda grabbed the phone and walked around to the side of the bed, bringing herself closer to the camera. Leaning back so Natasha gets the full of view of her naked wife with a 7" red silicone cock.
"What was my little witch planning on doing with it?" Natasha asked, knowing full damn well. Wanda playfully rolled her eyes at the nickname.
"I think only good girls who come home are allowed to know," Wanda spoke as she turned around, showing off her big smooth ass. Working out with a spy has its benefits.
"So if I were there, you'd do something about it?" Natasha asked while her eyes watched your dot stop right in front of the house. Your Uber leaving. Wanda still having no idea.
Wanda sat on the bed, smiled, and stared at the camera as she started moving her hand up and down the shaft of the cock. "Yes." The Sokovian spoke.
Nat bit her lip as the ring camera went off. The noise and notification alerting Wanda as well. "Is that you?" She looked up to the camera, asking. "No, baby. It's not. But it's for you, my Wendy."
Wanda turned and grabbed her phone, confused. "For me? Wendy-" The alias made Wanda remember times before the I Do's. "Natasha, what did you do?" Wanda was about to take her strap off yet again when Natasha commanded her not to.
"Keep it on. But on your pink robe. She'll explain everything detka. I'll call you in a bit. I'll be watching on cams."
With that, Natasha hung up and left Wanda in their bedroom, horny and confused about what her wife had in store. She turned her head and saw the red light still on. Okay. Wanda thought. Let's see what this is. She ran to the bathroom and slipped on her pink-colored robe before making her way downstairs.
On the front porch, you felt sillier and sillier. The doorbell had gone off twice, and no one had come to the door. You were about to call it quits and probably cry when you got home when your phone buzzed.
"She's coming, baby, don't worry."
If the term of endearment didn't make you blush, then the woman on the other side of the door would have when it flew open, revealing the woman from the photo sent earlier.
This time, instead of a Halloween costume, she was wearing a bathrobe. Her smooth skin was darker than in the photo, and the picture you saw didn't do her eyes justice. Standing before you, you could see pools of emeralds she had been blessed with. Her freckles and moles danced across her body, making you look everywhere before you focused up and smiled as she did the same. "Hi." She softly spoke.
Her slightly accented voice makes you want to scream without the s.
"Hi." You smiled like an idiot, even extending your hand like one, too. "Y/N." Wanda smiled at your cuteness. "Wendy." She said, knowing you'd believe it. "So what do I owe the pleasure, Y/N?" Wanda stepped onto the front porch, coming closer to you. She was now at your level. A bit shorter than you, thanks to your heels.
The step down made her cock jiggle, not that you saw. You fumbled over your words, making Wendy smile and giggle. You froze and let a heatwave run over your body. That giggle of hers, you'd do anything to hear it again.
"Try again, sweetheart."
The pet name should've clued you into the fact that maybe Wendy already knew what you were doing here, but it didn't. You just smiled and started speaking while trying not to get lost in her eyes.
Oh, Tasha, she's so cute. Where did you get this one?
While you poorly explained the events that led you to having an app placed onto your phone, Wanda decided to look you over discretely.
Natasha dressed you. If the black on black on black wasn't a giveaway, then the peach lipstick would've been.
Wanda smiled as she watched your kissable peach-covered lips move. She was going to have fun with you.
Wanda's eyes quickly moved up your body again past the black heels that you'd be in all night and up your legs. Your dress stopping not even mid-way down your thighs.
Wanda was highly aware of what all of this meant.
"...so then, after seeing that cute costume, I accepted. I must say you're much more beautiful in person. Natalie didn't do you justice." You rambled, and Wanda picked up the name Natasha was going with. "Why thank you, Y/N." Wanda smiled before opening her mouth again.
"I know you said this was your first time using this.. app.. but have you ever done something like this?" Wanda needed to know. You slowly shook your head, and Wanda had to do her best to keep her lips from spreading into a wide smile. "Good." She said. "Good."
You watched Wendy look you over once more. "You look stunning, Y/N. I'm lucky to have you tonight." You opened your mouth in shock. "No, Wendy, believe me. I'm the lucky one." She smiled at you before turning around and opening her door wide for you to follow her in. "We'll see."
Natasha watched you follow her wife inside on the ring camera and slowly moved her hand over her clothed pussy, still wet from when she saw Wanda's cock.
Your heels were loud against the hardwood floor of the modern house in the middle of nowhere. "It's beautiful." You looked around as you followed Wendy into a giant kitchen. "Thank you. Natas- Natalie and I designed it ourselves." Wanda quickly looked into the corner of the ceiling, the red light on.
"Could I interest you in anything to drink?" Wendy walked to the other side of the kitchen island. You were about to answer when you closed your mouth shut as your eyes landed on the woman's green eyes staring back at you. Her robe was no longer closed like it was moments ago. Instead, it was strategically open—a clear view of Wendy's side boobs and flat stomach. You could now pinpoint a mole on her left breast. You licked your lips as she leaned forward over the island. Her lower half was still a mystery to you as her boobs threaded to spill out.
"I- I-" You stuttered, forcing Wendy to lean up and smirk at you. "You really haven't done anything like this before. Aren't you adorable?" She said the second sentence under her breath, but you heard her.
That made your legs press together.
Through the laptop screen, Natasha smirked, too. Wanda and Natasha were always teaching each other things. But the ability to flirt and get what you want was masterfully taught to Wanda over the years. "You're doing so good, baby.." Natasha moaned as her finger brushed over her covered clit.
"Here, we'll start with some water." Wendy turned away from you, opening their fridge and pulling out a water bottle. She opened it quickly and set it down near her. "Come here." She spoke softly to you. You swallowed and made your way across the kitchen. The only noise in the house being your heels.
Wanda closed a drawer and placed a straw in your bottle as you stopped before her. Still unaware of the surprise under the robe. "I wouldn't want you to mess up your lipstick."
Not yet.
"Thank you." You awkwardly smiled and took the bottle from Wendy, who watched you drink it like a proud mother. "Good job." She whispered as her right hand pushed some of your loose hairs behind your ear. Her delicate fingers moved down behind your ears and to your neck. Stopping there. "Finished?" She asked as her other hand reached and grabbed the water bottle from you. You nodded as Wendy took a sip as well.
The cold contact from the water made goosebumps appear all over Wendy's body.
Wanda gasped and had a giant smile form as her nipples became hard and brushed up against the robe concealing them. Her eyes pierced through you as you smiled back at her. Your eyes quickly moving up from Wanda's cleavage. "Y/N?" She asked, setting the water down. "I'd like to ask a couple of questions that maybe my wife didn't ask or maybe things she already knows. If that's okay?"
You nodded.
"I like for you to speak when spoken to Y/N." Wendy gently but sternly reminded you as she ran her cold hands over your dress down to your hips, where she kept them in place. "How old are you?"
"25." You replied, making Wendy's face light up. "Wow. Still so young.." Wendy bit her lip. "Do you have a girlfriend?" You shook your head, earning a squeeze on the hips from Wendy. You did your best to hold in a moan but lightly failed. "Speak up, baby." Wanda teased.
"No girlfriend." Wanda smiled. "Good girl. Boyfriend?"
You quickly shook your head and told her no, making Wendy laugh. "Even better, detka.." She whispered as your breath became more erratic. "Safe word?" She asked.
You shook your head before speaking up. "Never had one before." For a split second, Wanda felt bad that you never had one, but her eyes sparkled with wild thoughts. "Mango. That's the word we'll use." The older woman decided. "Don't be afraid to use it either. It stops all actions and can keep you safe. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Good girl."
Natasha watched as her wife's hands moved from your hips to behind your back, right above your ass. Wanda was slowly pushing more and more into your space. Your lower back up against the kitchen island.
"Come on, Wanda, show her the camera..." Natasha pleaded.
"You can put your hands on me," Wendy spoke as she watched your hands rise and fall. "Go ahead. Touch me." She looked up to you. You placed your hands on her shoulder, still covered by the robe. "Are you nervous?" You both knew the answer, but Wanda wanted to hear you say it. "Yes."
"That's okay." Wendy's eyes sparkled. "Pretty soon, you won't be." That made your stomach flip positively. You think. "Here..." Wendy quickly removed her hands from you and pushed herself away. Covering her body with the robe again and leaning on the counter a couple of feet away from you.
You wanted to whine at the loss of contact and the sight of her body, but you didn't. Instead, you looked shocked. "I'll start slow and help ease you. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Good girl." Your cheeks went red again, but Wendy didn't stop to comment on it. "To help tonight go smoothly for you, I'm going to be honest." Wanda looked at the camera and back to you. "Wendy is not my name. It's Wanda. My wife is Natasha, not Natalie."
That definitely didn't help your nerves, but it made you feel better knowing that maybe they lied because for a good reason. "I trust you not to tell anybody about it tonight, so there's no harm in telling you our real names."
"Oh... okay. Is it a safety thing?" You asked as your nerves settled a bit. Wen-Wanda nodded. "Yeah. Something like that." You nodded back. "Will Natasha be mad?"
"She's probably a little annoyed as we're speaking, but come tomorrow morning, she'll be just fine. Don't you worry about her." Wanda scrunched her nose up at you as she took a step closer. You looked at her fondly as her eyes grazed over you. In a normal conversation, she's still a goddess.
How can she even be looking at me?
Wanda played with the large belt of her robe before letting the ends causally fall. You watch in one quick motion. Wanda slipped a shoulder out of her robe as she approached you. "Y/N.." She breathed out as you lifted your hand to touch her bare skin. The minuscule divots in your thumb smoothing over her shoulder. "Yes.." Your voice lost itself as you felt a yearning build deep within you.
"I want you to look at me," Wanda commanded, watching your eyes find hers.
She took a step towards you. "Y/N, in the corner of the ceiling, there is a camera with a red light on under it. That's Natasha. So I want you to say hi. Okay? Tell her that her wife is in good hands tonight. You do that, and you can touch more than just my shoulder... Is that something you want Y/N?" Before you can respond, she says:
"Because I want you to touch me."
Wanda bites her bottom lip and watches as you process this information. The two of you becoming wetter with every passing second. Especially when Wanda lays her left hand on the inside of your left thigh. "Tell her hi, baby.."
You close your eyes as the feeling of Wanda's hand on you burns, but it feels so fucking good. You turn your head and open your eyes to the red light in the corner. "Hi Natasha.." You pant as Wanda's hand rises. "Keep going." She says, like you're not struggling already. Fuck it has been a while since you got laid. "Your wife is in.. good hands t-tonight."
You turn back to Wanda, who surprises you by jumping into you and kissing you. You melt as your lips collide. A moan slipping through your lips. You inhale Wanda for the first time tonight and smell lavender. Her body falls on yours, and you wrap your arms tightly around her, pulling her closer, hoping to relieve the pressure between your legs.
But that's when you feel it and moan into Wanda's smirking mouth. "Wanda!" You moan again as Wanda pushes into you harder this time. "Oh, Y/N!" Wanda removes her lips from yours and sends them down your chin before latching onto your neck. Kisses slowly morph into bites and marks of territory.
After all, you were hers for tonight.
Natasha watches your breaths become ragged as you throw your head back and moan loudly. Natasha pants and moans her wife's own name as she slides two fingers up and down her wet clit before slowly putting her middle and ring finger into her needy pussy.
"Oh, Wanda! Fuck!"
"Take my robe off!" Wanda looks up at you, detaching her mouth from your red collarbone. You nod and make work of the robe before it falls to the floor, revealing Wanda and her heavenly body. You push her by her shoulders to get a good look at her.
Perfection. That is all that comes to mind.
"Natasha is lucky." You reiterate your point from earlier as you look down at her body. You're in awe even when your eyes land on the real surprise of tonight.
"Look at how wet you've already gotten it, Y/N."
You do, indeed, take a closer look and see that down the tip of the fake cock is your wetness. "No panties, baby?" Wanda asks in a voice that makes your brain short-circuit. You shake your head. "No panties, Mommy."
You, Wanda, and Natasha all went wide-eyed at that.
Your therapist is going to have more issues to work out next Thursday.
Wanda quickly recovered, unlike you, and took steps closer until she was right up against you like before. The tip of her cock sliding through your wet lips. Earning a visceral moan. "Just wait till later.." Her words hit your burning ears. You nodded and almost begged her to just fuck you right there, but Wanda placed her hands on your hands, stopping you from touching her. Her hips moving forward and back at a quicker pace as she placed kisses on your neck once again.
You couldn't process words, much less speak, at this moment.
You shrieked when Wanda bit you hard. You squirmed when Wanda's mouth didn't stop leaving darker marks than before. "Y/N.." She groaned. "I want you to thank Natasha for this." Your mouth hung open as the length of the cock continuously slid up and down your wet pussy. "Thank her for the both of us. Can you do that?" You wanted to say yes, but the feeling of pure bliss was coming, and you didn't want it to stop.
Neither did Wanda, but this was just light fun. This was the first phase.
Once you two made it upstairs, that's when the real fun would begin.
But for now, the hunping began to slow, as did Wanda's kisses on your neck.
She lifted her head and let go of your hands. Her cock remained still as she took her hands to your face. Pulling your chin down to look at her. "Don't make this difficult," Wanda warned you as you were coming down from your non-orgasm. You went to nod, but Wanda's other hand touched you. While Wanda's shaft was up against your thighs and pussy her fingers found your clit. Soaked and desperate for attention again, she slowly began circling it with precision.
"Look at the camera and thank my wife. Thank Natasha." Her pace increased, as did your breathing. You closed your eyes and opened your mouth.
"Thank-k.." Wanda's other hand reached your back and held you in place. "Keep going, Y/N."
"Th-thank you-u..." You moaned loudly. "Wanda!" "Don't stop!" Her middle finger was now helping you get closer and closer to the edge.
"Natasha-ah! Thank you!" You squealed as Wanda's fingers immediately left you. In an instant, your back slammed against the kitchen island as Wanda thrusted her cock against your clit. You stumbled in your heels and fell back onto the countertop. Your open legs and wet thighs on display for Wanda thanks to your dress riding up.
Wanda was in love with your body.
Meanwhile, you had yet to cum. You had never experienced something like this, and you were so thankful that it wasn't going to stop. "Come here." Wanda reached up and grabbed you by your wrists. Pulling you off the countertop and in front of her yet again. "Strip!"
You stumbled again as you tried to find your footing. Two times, you had been denied an orgasm, yet you couldn't help but feel a little shy and smile as you nodded and went to take your heels off for Wanda. But she stopped you forcefully, grabbing you by your arm. "Y/N.." She looked at your furrowed brows. "We talked about this earlier. I like for you to speak when spoken to Y/N." You nodded again. She was right. "I'm sorry."
Then, a smile appeared on Wanda's face. "There we go. But what else do we say? I'm sorry..." You tilted your head at her before it dawned on you. "I'm sorry, Mommy."
Wanda smiled wider and leaned forward to kiss you. "That's my girl. I'm sorry I had to grab you like that, but I want you to be good. Okay?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Okay. Now, I only want you to strip out of the dress. Keep the tights and heels on for me." You nodded again as Wanda pulled you away from the kitchen and island and more towards the open space of the giant room. Closer to the camera. "Do it here." She turned to you and waited for you to get to work. Once you started, a smile never left Wanda's face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N." She said again, making you blush. "Isn't she Nat?" Wanda looked up to the camera while she walked around you. Hand stroking her wet cock.
All thanks to you.
Natasha twitched as her wet fingers slid over her swollen clit. She smiled and watched your dress hit the floor. "She's adorable," Natasha spoke to herself. But Wanda knew. She also knew Natasha was going to thoroughly enjoy what was to come.
You weren't sure what to do. Well, you knew you wanted to have sex; no, sorry, that's wrong- You knew you wanted to be fucked by Wanda, but you were in no position to make demands or ask questions. Since you stepped foot into this house, Wanda was in charge.
And you didn't want to upset Mommy.
So your anticipation built over the next few seconds as Wanda stared at your body. You could see it in her eyes that she was fascinated with you, which was nice. It felt terrific. But all you wanted was her touch again. To actually feel her again!
So when Wanda stepped right over your dress and put her hands on your body, you let out a moan just for her. Your thighs clamped together just as her lips found their way to your nipple, sucking it into her mouth, biting your breast. Her left hand landed on your other boob. Her fingers trailed to push it up and take it into her hand. Groping you. The rough feeling sending waves of pleasure all over your body. Her other hand found its way to your hip bone. Kneading and pulling you close. Forcing your wet thighs to push up against her cock. Begging for an opening.
You rolled your eyes back and spread your legs for Wanda's cock to slide right in and over your core. Both of your stomachs slamming into one another, making you put your hands on Wanda's back. Pulling her close. "Someone's desperate." She chuckled as you squirmed and nodded.
You wanted it so bad.
But you were denied once again as Wanda began to pull back. You immediately refocused your eyes and looked down at Wanda with a plead stuck in your throat as she lifted her mouth off your boob.
"Does someone want to cum?"
You nodded. "Please." Wanda smiled at that and kissed your chest up to your neck. Her cock sliding up and down your pussy. "Not yet." You went to whine, but Wanda stopped you. "Not here. Let's go upstairs." You looked down at Wanda to make sure she was serious.
Wanda slowly pulled her long red silicone cock from in between your thighs and grabbed your hand to lead you. "We'll go slow. Just follow me." You nodded and slowly did follow Wanda.
No matter how close, your legs felt like jelly.
"What about Natasha?" You asked as you hit the first step. "You'll be seeing her soon," Wanda replied with a smirk you didn't see.
The same style used throughout the house continued into the bedroom, shared by the woman placing you on the soft bed and the woman somewhere else watching you through a camera.
It was cute, and it seemed to suit Wanda for the most part.
"That's Natasha's side," Wanda said as she came back to you from closing the bedroom door. You went to move, but Wanda stopped you. "Don't." Stern but gentle. You were picking up that that's how Wanda was. She was caring, giving, and someone who you could easily trust. But slowly, she showed you she can be strong, disciplined, and hard.
No pun intended.
"Scoot back a bit." You did as you were told and moved your ass away from the edge. Wanda sat down on the bed right next to you. You felt her soft legs brush up against your own, making you react. "You've been wonderful so far tonight, Y/N." Wanda's left hand started rubbing up and down your thigh. Your kegs spreading themselves open without being told. "See." Wanda brings her hand closer to your center. "You're so good. I know you can't wait to have my cock inside you, huh?" You rolled your head over to Wanda as your body begins to buckle as her hand brushes over your clit.
You have never been teased for this long.
"I can't wait, Mommy." You whine. Wanda smiles. "Thank you for being honest, baby." She leans into you and kisses your lips. Each kiss becomes shorter as your moans grow louder.
Wanda keeps her hand touching your wet folds, only stopping to grab your hand and place it on her cock. You freeze momentarily. "It's okay." Wanda breaths over your ear. "I just want to feel your hand jerk me off. Just for a bit, baby." Wanda kisses the side of your face and is happy when your hand slowly goes up and down her length. The action causing the inside of the strap to push up against Wanda's clit. "What's the safe word Y/N?"
"Mango."
Wanda hums. "Mommy is so proud of you." Wanda moans before her hand slips down, finally inserting two fingers inside you.
Through the camera in the corner, Natasha watches you moan the loudest you have all night. A smile on her face as the naked redhead flops her head back to her pillow as she works herself closer to another orgasm of the night. "Fuck her, Wanda. Make her your slut."
You continue pumping Wanda's cock as you feel yourself tighten around her fingers. You try not to, but you fall flat on your back as the pleasure is reaching its tipping point. "Oh god. You're so tight, Y/N! My cock is going to wreck that pretty pussy of yours!" Wanda is overjoyed at the sight of your body covered in sweat as her two fingers slide in and out of you. The faster and faster she goes, you shut your eyes tight as the pressure builds. You let out a vital moan as you feel the bed shift.
Wanda, getting up on her knees, moves her body closer to you. Your hand still on her cock lazily jerking her off as Wanda doesn't stop her assault on your pussy. "Is someone going to cum?" Wanda asks through ragged breaths as she's having just as much fun as you. Your mouth drops open, and you go to speak. But you just moan as your eyes roll back. "Going to cum for me, baby? Is my Y/N going to cum?" Wanda teases as her fingers curl inside of you. "Answer me." She demands but doesn't slow down.
"Ye-s! Momm- fuck!! I'm going to cu-mmm! I want cum so bad! Can I cum?!" The rest of the words get lost in your throat as Wanda pulls your legs back and has you spread so she can pump her fingers deeper into you. "You want to cum for me?" You rapidly nod as your brain goes dizzy. Wanda smiles as she runs her left hand through your hair before pulling the back of your head up. "Cum for Mommy!" That puts you over the edge. Your legs shake. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming. Oh my god! I'm cumming!"
Hearing your moans and pleas pushes Natasha to cum at the same time you do. A bliss-filled smile on her face as she removes her right hand from her center but keeps her left hand pressed on her throat until she's close enough to see stars.
She wonders if Wanda will do that to you tonight.
"That's it, baby." Wanda praises you as you come down from your high. Her fingers coated in you as she pulls out, making you whine at the loss. "It's okay," Wanda says, but when you look over, her eyes are on her hand. Not you. She also knows you're watching but doesn't pay you any attention as she slips her two Y/N-coated fingers into her mouth.
She moans and savors the taste of you.
She would never admit it, but you were almost more addicting than Natasha.
You tasted sweet, and Wanda wanted more. You watch her hand silently reach down to your spread pussy and slide the same two fingers between your folds. Careful not to brush past your clit.
She knew how sensitive it was at the moment.
You watch the finger shine in the bedroom's light before her tongue runs up the length of her middle finger before she finally looks at you. "Have you ever tasted yourself?" You shook your head. "No, Mommy." Wanda brings her fingers to you. "Open for me." You let your mouth drop open. Tongue flat as Wanda's fingers lay down on the pink bed. You close your lips and suck on her fingers.
A moan gets stuck in your throat.
You love the way you taste.
"I taste good, Mommy." Wanda smiles at you widely and nods.  "Yes, you do, Y/N." She would like to think that she finger fucked you, dumb. Made you a submissive pet. To be hers. But Wanda doesn't know you.
She doesn't know how correct she'd be.
She doesn't know that you just had one of the best orgasms of what you're now realizing is a pretty bland, sex-filled life.
She doesn't know that something did happen when her fingers were inside of you. A switch got flicked on. Not only were you hers for tonight. But you wanted to be Wanda's for every night. You wanted more.
One app turned you into a dumb submissive little slut.
Your eyes dropped from Wanda's to see your hand was still on her fake cock. "Mommy?" You asked. "Yes." Wanda tilted her head with a smile. "I want more." You said, bringing your eyes up to hers. Both are blown out with lust. "I want your cock."
Wanda giggled, making it jump. "Where do you want my cock?"
Before you could answer, a cell phone started to ring. You knew it wasn't yours based on the ringtone and Wanda's reaction of looking in the corner at the camera. "Hold on." Wanda gently let go of your head and moved off the bed to her bedside table. Your lips curled into a smile as you watched her 7-inches jump with every step.
As Wanda picked the phone up, you looked over her body once more. You couldn't believe the natural beauty she had. Her body was yours to worship. Well, yours and "Natasha!" Wanda exclaimed purposefully.
You looked up at Wanda, holding her phone up.
FaceTime call, you thought.
You move your body slightly to lay more in the middle of the bed. Your head closer to the pillows than before. You try not to listen to Wanda and her wife's private conversation just in case it's important, but when "she's being such a good girl" gets said, you turn your head to Wanda, who is already looking at you. She winks at you, causing your stomach to flip and a giddy smile to appear on your face. "You missed her tasting herself?!" Wanda makes a gasping sound. "Tasha!"
"Give the phone to her Wands." Wandaobeys her wife, crawls onto the bed, and gives you the phone. On the screen is Natasha lying on a bed with her red hair sprawled out behind her. Her green eyes piercing you through the screen. She looks so fucking beautiful. More so than the photos on the hush. You see why her and Wanda are together.
It made a wave of jealousy wash over you before remembering the reason you were here.
You leaned up against the pillows as Natasha looked over your face. You quickly peered over the phone to see Wanda on her knees in front of your center. You smiled and wrapped your legs around her. Her mind getting the message, bringing her hands up and down your thighs. Just her touch was enough to make you hold in a moan.
"You've been doing so well, Y/N," Natasha told you. "Thank you." You shyly replied. "Don't be nervous just because I'm here now."
"You were always here," Wanda added, making Natasha wave her off. But only you could see it being in a smile to you. "Mommy says you taste sweet. Do you agree?" It'sthenthat you notice Natasha's right arm appears to be moving out of frame from the camera.
Natasha was fingering herself to you.
And she called Wanda Mommy.
"Yes, I do. Mommy's right." That made Natasha buck against herself, and you felt pride in making that happen. But your face of pride quickly disappeared when you felt Wanda's cock rub up and down your wet pussy. The tip sliding across your clit. Her movement growing faster. "Wand-mommy!" You moaned.
"Daddy just wants to see you taste yourself."
Daddy? But before you could question what you already knew, Wanda accidentally pushed half the length of the cock into you. Making you scream in pleasure because you and your pussy needed it.
You held tight to the phone as Wanda didn't give you time to adjust to the size before she started pulling back out of you. Your body practically going limp as you tried your best to remain strong for Mommy. And Daddy. "Take it, Y/N. It's okay. It's okay!" Your eyes focused back to Natasha as she wore a smirk. You nodded and saw Wanda smile.
"Come here." Wanda pulled out of you and reached down to place her hands on your arms. "Trust me, baby." She spoke softly as she started pulling you onto your black, tight, covered knees. You didn't realize that she grabbed the phone away from you in the process.
Wanda held onto you as she moved to the edge of the bed. She slid off to stand straight up but kept you on it. That's when you realized. With an arch of the back and on your knees, you were face to face with Wanda's cock. The very same that's covered in you.
"Go ahead." You looked up to see Wanda and the phone looking down at you. "See how you taste on Mommy's cock." Daddy said. "I-" You started to speak but stopped. Feeling a little embarrassed. "Have you never-" Wanda started but stopped when you spoke over her. "No, I have! It's just been a long time." Wanda's eyes soften. "I'll be gentle. Remember the safe word?" You nodded. "Mango."
"That's right, baby. Mommy will take good care of you. This is just for Daddy. Okay?" You nodded once again. "Okay."
"She's so good for you," Natasha said to Wanda as you got closer to her cock.
Just like with Wanda's fingers earlier, the fake cock showed how wet you had gotten it in the light of Mommy and Daddy's bedroom. You looked up to Wanda and Natasha. The former gives you an encouraging smile.
You reached your hand out to the cock and began stroking it before bringing your mouth to the base. With your tongue flat against it, you licked up from the bottom to the top. The ridges and feeling of it made you smile as the taste of your own wet pussy landed in your mouth. "Oh god." You heard Daddy moan.
You repeated the process again and again to ease yourself into the act. Soon enough, the tip of the cock was entering your mouth. "Let me know when it's okay for me to move Y/N." You looked up to Wanda and nodded as you pushed another inch into your mouth. Thankful for Wanda choosing now to be extremely kind.
You pulled your mouth off the cock and let a string of salvia fall to your chin. Wanda's hand was quick to wipe it away. "You're doing so good. Daddy is proud of you." You smiled widely and started stroking the cock faster as your mouth sank lower onto it. You gagged, of course, but that didn't stop you. You simply swallowed and kept pumping Wanda's cock into your mouth. Your tongue running up and down it as the cock felt good against your soft lips.
When you reached the halfway point, Wanda placed a hand on your head and started to move her hips.
"Mommy's getting a little restless, Y/N."
With the cock still in your mouth and tears welding in your eyes, you looked up to see Wanda with her head thrown back, pushing the cocking further into you. "Oh fuck." Wanda exclaimed, making you moan at the sight before gagging again. "Baby, it feels so good on my clit. Oh my god!" Wanda moaned as the vibrations from your gag had her hands tighten in your hair. "Don't stop, Y/N!"
You weren't going to. If Wanda was going to cum you wanted to be the one to do it.
Determined, you brought a hand up and placed it on the back of Wanda's thigh, pushing her more into you. The cock sliding down your throat. "Oh baby, you're such a fucking slut!" Daddy spoke through her own moans as she watched her wife fuck your mouth. Wanda nodded in agreement and started pushing your head onto the strap.
The sounds of the wet cock, your gags, and the three of you moaning being the only thing to fill the room.
You made sure to push the base of the strap with every jerk you gave it, so it made Wanda buckle. Her moans and breaths becoming inconsistent. "Keep going, Y/N! Make her cum! Make Mommy cum!" You could hear Natasha's fingers rapidly fucking her pussy. You swirled your tongue around the shaft and moaned one last time before you pulled your head back. Letting the cock slide down your tongue out of your mouth. Coating your chin and chest as salvia dripped off of it.
You swallowed what you had left in your mouth and brought your hands up to Wanda's strap. You began to jerk it off, staring straight up at the camera. "Daddy, I want you to cum too. I want you to cum for me. I want you and Mommy to cum all over me." You acted like a slut for the two of them.
Natasha knew it couldn't happen, but goddamn if she wouldn't shoot loads all over that pretty face of yours.
Meanwhile, Wanda had her eyes on you again. Blown out and fully aware of the orgasm she was about to have. The center of the strap pushing back into her pussy and clit was enough to take her to the edge. But you. You on the bed, jerking her off.
That's what made her cum. Her green eyes looking into you. "Don't stop, baby. Don't stop, Y/N! Oh my God. Oh-ooh, my God!!!" Wanda gripped your hair harder than ever before as her eyes rolled back. Fingers holding your skull still.
The inside of the hardness ruined as she came.
At the same time, hearing her wife moan your name. Moan for you. Natasha came. Natasha came for you.
You sat on the bed as Wanda held you still. You were in awe as you watched Wanda start to come down from her climax. Her body was now in a glow of sweat that made her look sexier than ever. The grips on you loosened. For a split second, you swear you saw her green eyes turn red. But when she looked in your direction, you saw how soft they were. She smiled. You smiled back and got up on your knees. You grabbed the phone as it was about to slip from Wanda's hand. When you looked, you saw Natasha still recovering. "You did so good." You said to both of them, but mainly Wanda, in a hushed tone before pulling her close to you, and with Natasha watching, you kissed her wife on the lips.
She responded by pushing her lips into yours and putting her hands on your body to steady herself from almost falling.
Jelly legs and all.
"Let's get me out of this." You nodded and giggled as she did, too. With help from Natasha on the other end of the phone propped up on her bedside table, the harness finally fell to the floor.
Wanda sat back down on the bed and pulled your body in between her legs. With you still in your heels, her face was at eye level with your stomach. Her hands placed themselves on your ass, moving them up and down as her pink lips started kissing your stomach.
You blushed hard as not everything about tonight was new, but this was. This was intimate and special. And you couldn't do anything but love it. Your cheeks became more pink as you grew wetter with each kiss and lick Wanda's mouth left on you. Your hands placed themselves on her head. This time, it was your turn to run your hands through her hair.
You moved back a bit, but to place a kiss on top of Wanda's head, this made the older woman look up at you.
She reached up and pulled your chin down. A gentle kiss placed on your lips. "Come here." She whispered as your body fell onto the bed with hers.
Legs quickly become intertwined as her arms wrap around you. Her mouth immediately attaches to your collarbone as your breath moans into her ear. "Thank you." She moans as your hands grab onto her sides. "Thank you for tonight, Y/N."
You shake your head and kiss her forehead, making her look up at you before you kissed her face and lips. You never want to stop doing that. "No, Wanda.. thank you and Natasha."
You looked into each other's eyes. You realized another thing about tonight right then and there. A one-night stand or a relationship never made you feel how you felt in this moment.
Wanda had only ever felt this way about one person before.
Natasha watched the two of you and smiled. She succeeded in her mission for her wife to have a night like tonight.
Come morning, that app would be off your phone, and there would be no need for Natasha to ever use it for you again—and Vice versa.
Natasha watched you lean down and kiss Wanda's collarbone. Slowly working your way to her chest, kissing over her little moles and freckles. Wanda smiled and moaned at certain spots. "Y/N?" She said, looking down at you. "Yes?"
"I want you to take off your heels and tights."
You looked down and back up. "Are you sure?" Wanda nodded, yet you still looked at the phone for Natasha's confirmation. "Do what she says, detka." You sat up on the bed as the two watched you.
"What does detka mean?" You asked as you placed the right heel down. Wanda took the question. "It means baby, honey, sweetie. It's a term of endearment." You made an "ah" noise and took off your tights. "Any other questions?" Wanda teased.
That made a lightbulb go off. "Yeah..." You briefly looked at Natasha, who looked sleepy (probably due to the 4 orgasms she had) before looking at Wanda. "Nat- Daddy made me wear peach-colored lipstick. Why?" You were now fully nude for the first time tonight, making you feel free and closer to Wanda.
Just like she wanted.
You got on your knees and crawled your way up to the bed before flopping back down into the position you were in earlier. Your legs intertwined with Wanda. Arms around one another. Face to face. Wanda kissed you. "That's a good question." She laughed. "You see... before Natasha and I said the I Do's. We were more open.. kinda like this.." Wanda rubbed her hand up and down your back. "Natasha would bring home pets, toys, and pretty girls like you." Wanda smiled at the memory. But her eyes focused back on you. "And do you know what they always wore?"
"Peach." You responded to Wanda's praise.
"But don't worry, Y/N." Wanda pushed her head closer to you. To lay it on your shoulder. "None of them were ever like you." She kissed your shoulder. You kissed her head.
You two sat in silence for a moment before Wanda disrupted it. "I want to cum one more time." She spoke in a hushed tone. You nodded. "Okay." You replied because you would be stupid not to.
Wanda untangled herself from you and looked back at Natasha and the phone. Only to see her wife passed out. Wanda let out a small chuckle before moving Natasha to the phone charge. Keeping the call active.
Wanda lays back down and motions you over. Her pearly white show themselves as you place your legs over her. Half your body on her—half on the bed.
You begin to kiss Wanda as softly as possible. Almost as slowly as you are soft, you drag your hand across her skin. You feel the goosebumps your breath against her face sends across her body. Wanda moans another kiss into your lips as her hand places itself around your wrist, directing you to feel how wet she is. "It's for you." She says into your ear before shrieking because of the bite you place on her. It didn't hurt her. It was just surprising.
Truth be told, you just wanted to leave a mark.
But the mark you would leave behind isn't one that's visible.
You moan into Wanda as you slip your fingers inside her for the first time tonight. "You're so tight." Wanda whimpers as you don't slow. "Please keep going!" You push her one leg to the side with your knee so she can spread her pussy for you more. "Right there! Right there!"
Wanda wraps her arms around and holds on as you curl your fingers, hitting her spot. "Don't stop. Oh my god! Y/N Please Don't!" Wanda's mouth drops before slamming shut as the point is approaching. "You wanna cum?" You ask as you stare at her with her eyes closed shut. "Wanda wants to cum?"
This was your first time in the bedroom calling her Wanda.
She opens her eyes, shocked, but her face is flushed and red. Contorting as she is close. "Yes Y/N! Please let me cum!" She looks at you, pleading. "Moan into me as you cum. You can cum baby. Okay? Cum for me, Wanda. It's okay!" You and Wanda crash your lips into one another as she tightens around you. She smacks your thumb away from clit as she cums. Your fingers become coated in her, and you feel like you've just won the lottery. "That's it. That's it! Ride it out." You coax her and leave a trail of kisses across her forehead.
Her tight hold that her arms have around you loosens. Delicately, you pull your fingers out of her. Wanda winces and sighs at the loss of you. But is overjoyed with what just happened.
"Have you ever tasted yourself?" You ask, half teasing, half not. "I have." You bring your fingers closer to your mouth, but Wanda's hand grabs your wrist. "But not from you." Before you can protest, your fingers are in her mouth. Her tongue runs over and in between your two fingers. Moaning at the taste. Because of you.
Wanda pulls your fingers out quicker than you'd like. "Well?" You ask, but instead of an answer, Wanda leans into you and puts a hand on the back of your head to keep you in place as she French kisses a mixture of you and her into your mouth. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as you taste Wanda. Both of your moans are muffled in each other's mouths. You continue to make out with one another.
Eventually, you two swallow and come up for air but find each other still in the same position even after silence, and your lingering touches are the only thing.
"Wanda..." You open and close your mouth. Unsure of what to say.
You look down at Wanda, whose head has fallen onto your arm, and see her with her eyes closed. Her breathing slow. She's fallen asleep. You peer over to the plugged-in phone and see Natasha the exact same as before. You don't want to disturb Wanda, and as much as you want to stay and help clean up. She's asleep, and she's not yours. Tonight, you were her's.
But tomorrow, she would not be yours.
Plus, as much as you'd want to have... this... be your life. You can't. Natasha paid you to do a job, and you did it...
With a heavy heart, you begin to untangle and move Wanda. It's not easy at first. It's like once she falls asleep, she has dumbbells attached to her. But eventually, you move and place her in a more comfortable position.
You scoot yourself to the edge of the bed and pick up your heels and tights. You look for your dress before remembering its in the kitchen downstairs. You make your way to the door of the bedroom and unlock it. Opening it, surprised to find out it doesn't creak like every door in every house you've ever had. "Huh." You open it wider and look back just in time to see Wanda crinkle her nose in her sleep and flop onto her side. You smile at her cuteness and pull the light switches down.
Yeah, they have that kind.
You close the door, but just before it closes, you take one last look at her figure lying on the bed, next to it on the table Natasha. You both give them a smile and shut the door.
Lucky for you, Wanda didn't turn out the kitchen lights, so instead of stumbling around in the dark, you find your dress on the floor easily. After tossing it into your hands, you begin to locate your phone. But for the love of God, you can't recall where you had it.
Your heels click as you walk from one side of the house to the other- "Y/N?!" You scream, jump, and almost break your ankles because of the voice from behind you. "Wanda!" You exclaim as you come down from your fright.
"What are you doing?" Wanda asks as she rubs sleep out of her eyes. "Me?! What about you? You're supposed to be sleeping?!" Wanda looks you over with a frown on her face; she says: "Are you leaving?"
The way she says those three words made you look at her like you just broke her heart. "Wanda-" She shakes her head and steps off the last step in the stairs. "Don't leave." She walks up to you and takes your hand in hers. Ignoring the guilty look on your face. "Come on." She starts to pull you, making you stumble before you stop and remove your hand free. "Wanda, stop!"
The Sokovian turns around and looks at you with hurt written on her. "I don't want you to leave," Wanda speaks up. You go to open your mouth and fight that you have to. That you can't stay. You would tell her that tonight was one of the best nights you have had in a long time. You'd say that feelings are bubbling under the surface after one night with you and Natasha, so imagine what would happen if you stayed. You want to say that this was a job, and that's it.
In another life, you do those things.
In another life, it works out. In some, it doesn't.
But here. In this one. You look at Wanda and drop your dress, tights, and heels on the floor.
"Till morning."
"Till morning." She repeats.
That night, you fell asleep with your arms wrapped around Wanda Maximoff.
In the morning, when Natasha Romanoff arrives. She smiles to see that the cameras were right. You never left.
In case it wasn't obvious. Natasha wanted to keep you around. For her and Wanda. So when she opened the bedroom door to confirm that yes, you were still here. Cuddled up with her wife, Wanda. Natasha widely smiled.
"Moya Lyubov," Natasha whispered as she sat on the edge of the bedroom next to her sleeping wife. She brushed hair that had fallen onto her face. But it was no use. Wanda was a dead weight when she slept.
That you didn't know. Which is why it's a wonder how or why Wanda woke up when you were trying to leave last night.
But you woke up when you heard whispering. When your eyes peeled open, you smiled before remembering that you weren't supposed to stay over. But Natasha must've sensed or seen the panic on your face. "It's okay. I'm glad this happened. I wanted it, too." Natasha spoke as her eyes went from Wanda to you.
Natasha sat there as she just looked at you and Wanda. "So now what?" You quietly asked, unsure of what to do. "Now.. this..." Natasha gestures to the three of you. "Transaction is done." She smiles, hurting you. "Oh." You take a breath. "Okay." You go to move, but Natasha stops you.
"This one is done." She says with a smirk that you pick up on. "Oh.. okay." You say again but with a smile, making Natasha laugh. "But you'll have to use the app every time." But Natasha just shook her head.
You never used that app again after the first night.
After one week, Natasha and Wanda stopped paying you. After one month, you had two girlfriends. After three months, their home became your home.
So yeah, Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff were stuck at some point in life.
To be more specific, their marriage was stuck.
But that's where you came in.
Happily married to both.
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dividers by @/benkeibear
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presleyluvschris · 2 years ago
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i got you.
pairing(s): mcu peter parker x fem!reader
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desc honestly such a short concept. reader is whimpering/crying about seeing peter getting hurt on the news but he shows up perfectly fine, maybe a few scratches and holds the reader on the floor, wiping her tears.
a/n currently craving comfort like this so i wrote this specifically for comfort. hope you enjoy loves.
creds to @cafekitsune & @valenschmidt for the beautiful decor
warnings grammar, fluff. lmk if i missed anything.
requests | open 💌 masterlist
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You took off your shoes at the door, tossing the car keys on the table nearby.
you sighed and went into the kitchen to get yourself a snack before your boyfriend peter came back from whatever he had to do. you always got worried sick about him when he was out at night for so long.
you sit yourself on the couch as soft rain drips down the window, crunching your cheap popcorn and shuffling to find the remote hidden beneath the cushion under you. You turn on the TV to the news of new york, watching all of the dramatic scenes of crime or new updates.
and then, it clicks to spiderman. spidermans news. you shfited your postion to sit up more, you always loved watching your boyfriend get fantasized and loved by the people of your city. But..this time it was different.
The screen flashed images of peter seriously hurt. you felt your stomach drop to the floor as your eyes filled with flashing images of deep wounds and him knocked on the floor. he looked pale, deep purple bruises matched on his face.
your eyes filled with tears and your throat felt like it was burning flames. you hated that peter had to go through this, the one you loved was constantly in danger and it shattered your heart into pieces.
this was the worst you had ever seen him.
tears streamed down your face and into your ears as you go into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. you couldn't bare to even look at the screen any longer. you feel yourself sink against the door, adrenaline rushing through your entire head. my peter.
you choke on sobs as you felt something pierce inside of you. you held your phone close to your chest hoping he would call you back. you needed desperately to know he was safe, alive.
Peter was always working. always. till' he nearly kills himself. You knew he was equipped with powers to sustain himself, and you also knew he was peter. you knew he was always strong and he always got up, no matter how hard he got smashed into the ground, over and over.
you close your eyes and matching tears peirce your head as they fall into the floor, choking on your own throat, resting your head on your knees tucked into your chest against the door.
you feel the bathroom door open from behind you and you nearly scream.
"is everything okay? i heard whimpering was that-"
Peter looks down at you on the floor. He was in his suit, holding his mask in one hand. His expression changed immediately when he saw your red eyes. you looked like you had been crying for hours. he knelt down next to you.
"im so sorry- did i scare you? whats going on?" His eyes were filled of worry as he held you in a hug.
you sobbed into his chest. "What the hell peter i thought you we're dead!" You whimper as you cling to his suit.
"What? No! Of course not- Why- Why would I be dead-" he breathes out, wrapping his arms around you as he feels his suit begin to get wet with your tears.
"You didn't anwser you phone.." you try to catch your breath, pulling away from him with a sniffle, checking him for any sign of wounds.
"Im so sorry y/n, i-i got out late." he rubs your back as he rests his chin on your shoulder, you crying into his.
your voice breaks, "i-i saw the photos on the news- t-they looked so terrible a-and-" tears roll down your cheeks.
"oh" he wipes your face, holding it with his hands as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "The news shows stuff like that all of the time, they probably edited it or something, i'm okay, i promise! Mr. Stark just needed some back up, everything is fine now.."
"I got you." he leans his head against yours and turns his face slightly to press a kiss to your lips, you breathe in and pull away, he wipes your tears with his hand.
you're chest feels warm with the same feeling of home again. your heart starts to swell.
he reaches for your pinky layed beside you on the floor, as he intertwines his into yours.
"i pinky promise, okay?" he pulls you in a hug as he caresses his thumb against your hand, still holding your pinky.
you nod gently, and rest the side of your face on his shoulder, letting yourself relax again.
he gently rests his chin on the top of your head. "im not going to leave you." he nearly whispers.
you nod slightly. "okay."
He helps you off the floor and leads you back to the couch, handing you a glass of water, sitting next you. you feel him wrap his arm around you.
"are you okay?" he asks slowly as he looks at you.
"yeah of course." you breathe out shakily as you take a sip of your water.
sighing, you set the water beside you and snuggle up to peter.
"im sorry you had to see that." he looks down. "i promise it wasn't real."
you nod and he holds your hand.
"what do you wanna do?" he looks at you softly. "i could get you something, or we could go out to a park." He holds his breath, making a puff in his cheeks.
you shake your head. "i just want you right now."
He nods and presses another kiss into your forehead.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" You ask gently, looking up at him from his chest.
His lips curve down as he shakes his head. "No, not at all." He smiles gently.
"Okay." You press your lips together and wipe your face.
You rest your head on his shoulder and he leans against the side of yours, folding his fingers into your hand.
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grahambaham · 10 months ago
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Something that has always annoyed me is the habit of many fans to declare that a villain of a certain piece of media is in the right when they are most definitely not.
A few examples that I can think of right now are Thanos, Magneto and Doom. What. The. Fuck.
First of all, Viktor Von Doom barely even has anything to be right about. The guy’s goal in life is to get as powerful as possible and use that power to rule the world or whatever, prove to everyone he’s smarter than Reed Richards (he is not) and to inflate his own ego as much as is psychically possible. Though that last one could be a result of the first two I guess. He basically wants the basic ass stuff all villains want, even if it’s not what they’re focusing on specifically. There is nothing for him to even be right about, my guy. Alright so the wanting to rule the world thing isn’t for his ego, though it helps. It is because he has a fucking god complex and thinks he’s the only one who can truly do it and properly protect the Earth from any future attacks. Everything about Doom basically boils down to his ego.
Now, I understand how Megneto, otherwise known as Max Eisenhart (Erik Magnus Lehnsherr is just an alias), can be a sympathetic villain. He’s gone through a lot and when very simplified his goal seems fairly noble. Dude just wants to protect mutants, make sure they’re safe and living their best lives or whatever. The problem is that he believes mutants are the superior species and treats humans how you might treat a mosquito. He wants to eradicate them completely, and so the world would be there for mutants to rule over and live happily ever after or whatnot. Any of that sound familiar to you? Yeah… Anyway, the point is that even though we can understand how he might’ve come to the point where he’s willing to do such horrible things, that does not mean he is right at all. People seem to think that the humans deserve it for the way they’ve treated mutants, even though there are a lot of good ones who most certainly don’t do that shit AND so many of them are children too. Because you do know that Max would legit murder even the little toddlers? Not for any reason other than ‘they’re human’. So yeah, he was not in the right. He was not the good guy all along or whatever. He is a villain and a horrible person who has also been treated horribly their whole life. Those two things can both be true. Having a bad childhood does not excuse your shitty actions though.
Last and certainly least we’ve got Thanos. First of all, that fucker did not give a shit about overpopulation or whatever in the comics. Bro wanted to court Death so he went around murdering people and destroying planets to impress her. Not very noble of him, I gotta say. Now as for the MCU, his goal is in fact to kill half the universe so more people could get more resources because he’s seen the way the poor live because of that lack of food and other things essential to living. Now, instead of using that infinite fucking power that he had in his hands to create more shit to give to everyone or, I don’t know, anything else? They’re called INFINITY stones for a reason? This fucker instead decided to just commit genocide real quick. I genuinely believe the only people who think this loser was right are actual children. Twelve years old at the most. Because there is no way in holy hell that grown men and women think Thanos was good and smart to use the INFINITE POWER IN HIS HANDS to just KILL A BUNCH OF PEOPLE INSTEAD OF SAVING MORE BY JUST WISHING FOR MORE RESOURCES OR FUCKING WORLD/UNIVERSE PEACE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK? Thanos is secretly twelve years old and hasn’t gained any critical thinking skills yet, I swear to fucking god.
So yeah, I guarantee whichever villain you think was right was not in fact right, they’re simply easy to sympathise with or their cause is. But if their way of making that sympathetic idea come true is murdering/torturing/conquering etcetera, then THAT MEANS THEY AREN'T RIGHT AT FUCKING ALL.
Good night.
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sapphirerogers · 1 year ago
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I don't know what you expected but I am still not done talking about the infamous fifth episode of the What If...? show.
Spoiler warnings ahead.
Throughout the episode, while trying to pull Steve out of the mind control, Peggy keeps repeating "Steve, this isn't you, wake up" an abnormal amount of times. It's actually sickening how lacking the scriptwriting is, at least for her character.
Bucky interacts with Steve for barely a minute and even then, his efforts to get Steve back display a wider vocabulary than Peggy's throughout the whole episode.
Furthermore, I'd like to break down and compare Steve's words to Bucky and CATWS, and Peggy's words to Steve in What If...?
Steve: "I'm not gonna fight you," and here he drops the shield into the river below, "you're my friend."
Moments later, as Bucky nearly punches him to death, saying "YOU'RE! MY! MISSION!", Steve's calm, collected response is "then finish it, cause I'm with you till the end of the line."
Yes, tear-jerking, we know. Let's move on.
Peggy, having gone up against Steve in a huge (around the same size as the armour Tony built in the cave) metal suit, made of plutonium or something, and still standing straight up, says:
"I don't want to fight you, I can't fight you anymore. I'm done fighting, I've been fighting for so long, to end the war, to forget what I lost...I'm tired. Steve, I want to be with you. I want you, even if this is the end."
Keeping aside the frustrating repetition of the word "fight" in just a few lines of Peggy's speech, let's look at the motivation behind both the dialogues.
Peggy talks about herself. About how she is tired of the war and of losing people, how she tries to forget how Steve isn't in her life anymore, about how she wants to be with him. Her entire purpose is not to save him, but to save him for herself. Her actions come from a selfish point of view, and by the time she says this, she is far from being as battered and bruised as MCU Steve. In fact, she gets away with just a couple of bruises at the most.
On the other hand, Steve's intention was to free Bucky from Hydra's torture, to protect his childhood best friend and lover. He had been shot multiple times, stabbed at least once, had his skin split open in several areas when he dropped the final bombshell. Steve was nearly dying while he was saying all that; yes he would've loved a second chance at life with Bucky by his side, but it was never his primary focus.
His primary focus was making sure Bucky had a second chance at life, even if he himself died trying. It was as if to say "I may die right here right now, but I love you too much to hurt you any further than I already have. You've always been more dear to me than life itself, so if your mission is truly to kill me, you know I'll support you in it even as you're taking my last breath out of me. All I ask for is your safety and well-being."
And it shows in the consequences too - in CATWS, Bucky not only regains just enough of his memories to stop, but also pulls Steve out of the Potomac before he can drown to death and places him somewhere he knows Sam and Nat and the others will easily spot him.
On the contrary, Hydra Stomper Steve barely shows any affection, shock or remorse towards the woman in front of him, but instead, he flies up to the Red Room and destroys it. It is unclear whether he survives the crash himself.
Like I said before, despite Marvel trying their absolute hardest to push StevePeggy as the superior pairing, they still end up portraying Steve and Bucky's (I say romantic, because Steggy mirroring Stucky proves the latter to be a romance) bond to be far stronger than that of Steve with a woman he only knew for a couple of years at most during a world war.
They dug their own grave and cannot crawl their way out of it. Stucky prevails.
@buckymilf @mainly-marvel @oneofstarkskids @jjmaybanksgun @averageambivert
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trash-gremlin · 2 months ago
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taking the bait wh0o'S Ratchet
me when you take the bait:
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ok hes basically my half baked mcu oc this is pretty much all i know about him (this is not coherant): name: ratchet
birth name: kieran smith
lore: was trafficked as a child into the Madripoor (fictional marvel crime country) fighting rings as a child. was a successful fighter (and killer) with a bunch of sponsors before he had even hit puberty. was stolen out of his home (cage) in his early teens and thought he was being rescued from the rings. he was taken to a rogue AIM (advanced idea mechanics - evil biotech company basically) facility where he had black market alien tech fused with his body lol. he also has a built in HUD which i think is pretty cool even if that would have been traumatic asf. anyway the biotech basically gave him an innate knowledge of machinery and how they work and how he can repurpose them to work the way he wants them to. cue a bunch of explosions as he escapes and detonates the rogue facility. he then became a hitman/bounty hunter in Madripoor under the name Ratchet and earned himself quite a reputation for making unstable but highly effective weapons on the fly. he was eventually caught after a failed high profile assassination. ENTERING THUNDERBOTLS* CANON: his trial was halted when valentina gave him an ultimatum between prison or working under her. he chose the latter.
looks: olive skin, sharp features, dark eyes that reflect strangely in the dark. freckles. TOOTH GAP. messy longish hair that he cuts with rusty kitchen scissors while looking in a dirty mirror. wiry lean build, practical muscle but not bulky and quite short (hows that childhood malnutrition working out for you?). has a number identification tattoo from the rings, probably behind his right ear. has a bunch of poorly done tattoos he either did himself or got for cheap. has a bunch of ear piercings (maybe some facial piercings i havnt decided yet). big on the diy aesthetic. mostly wears a white singlet covered in grease stains and cargo pants when hes off duty. on duty basically the same but with steel capped boots, a cropped black jacket with RATCHET on the back, probably has half working led lights along the stitching, goggles, and fingerless gloves. probably has an attachable tablet with a tactical display on his left forearm.
personality: FREAK FREAK FREAK. arrogant smartass seductive violent conniving manipulative dictator. knows exactly what buttons to push to gain the upper hand. keeps a scoreboard on his HUD on his kills, who has crossed him and who has helped him. never forgets a name, sucks at faces tho. doesnt care about collateral damage. probably a masochist. think pre-shimmer jinx levels of unstable. like deadpool but uh.... evil. after his "reform" he no longer kills for money, but for fun. the pr team is working overtime on this fucking guy. probably does hard drugs to relax. likes to get rises out of people. is only allowed to be interviewed if hes in a group and under no circumstances is he allowed to drive (but he does anyway). has a strong disregard for pretty much every law in every country. basically summarised as: likes to kill and doesnt care if he dies in the process.
trivia tidbits: once killed an entire military team sent to apprehend him except for the leader and then mailed to dogtags of his fallen squadron back to him. has a blended french-american accent. listens to pirated music (mostly 80's-90's pop punk) on a homemade mp3 player. built a companion/med bot called 8UD-E (pronounced buddy) which stores a range of injectable "heals" (its either adrenaline, cocaine, or caffeine depending on the situation). 8UD-E communicates in beeps and trills that only ratchet can fully understand. he only ever goes by ratchet, barely even remembers his birth name himself.
in closing: HOLY YAP SESH. im a sucker for a tragic child soldier character, what can i say. ill add him to the list next to alastair and silas.
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hurtspideyparker · 1 year ago
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Hi, if it’s not too much trouble could you please share some songs you think are Peter Parker coded? No pressure of course, thank you
HOW DID U KNOW I MADE A PETER PARKER PLAYLIST LITERALLY THIS WEEK?
I'll give out the link, it's based on MCU Peter and is vaguely chronological. Heavy on the angst soz. Also I don't have a super broad or unique music taste but I tried my best !
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0IeIl3Kj7L1hFoyyTIR21P?si=PkQ3NKseS0eL-sVyUFI5qA
Some specific thoughts on each song and how they relate to Peter if interested:
Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown - civil war Peter. just a crazy little guy, absolutely bonkers baby boy kicking super soldier ass.
all-american bitch by Olivia Rodrigo - homecoming Peter expected to be this tidy neighborhood hero for Tony but he's young and stupid and eager for action.
tolerate it by Taylor Swift - Homecoming Tony and Peter. Peter idolizing Tony and doing everything he can to prove himself and catch his mentor's attention, while Tony barely pays attention to him. "You're so much older and wiser and I, wait by the door like I'm just a kid" "I made you my temple, my mural my sky, now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life".
Reflections by The Neighborhood - same theme as tolerate it. "tried to put it out for you to get, could've should've but you never did" - Peter trying to warn Tony about what's going on but Tony not listening. Bonus "I see my reflection in your eyes" (I just wanted to be like you!).
Rose-Colored Boy by Paramore - Peter being this young optimistic hero, slowly losing that spark.
clementine by Halsey - general childish, stubborn Peter attitude. "I don't need anyone! I don't need anyone! I just need everyone and then some."
brutal by Olivia Rodrigo - Peter trying his best and losing so much of his normal teenage life to be the hero everyone demands, but he's never good enough.
All These Things That I've Done by The Killers - Peter coming to terms with the chaos and danger he causes others, begging for a mentor or a helping hand because he's in way over his head. "yeah you know you gotta help me out, oh don't you put me on the back burner" is so Tony coded in Homecoming. "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" Peter has heart but he's only a hero by chance, he didn't ask for the fight.
this is me trying by Taylor Swift - Far From Home Peter reliving all his mistakes and thinking of the people he's nearly gotten killed, Fury berating him, telling Happy how he messed up. Him thinking about Tony a lot, and how he's failing to be the next Iron Man.
Gold Rush by Taylor Swift - this just makes me think about how enamouring and beautiful Peter is.
Social Cues by Cage The Elephant - Far From Home Peter. Literally that scene where Peter gets overwhelmed by the reporters, pressured and frazzled by the expectations of being the new biggest hero. Shy little guy in his Iron Spider suit.
Idle Worship by Paramore - Fury and so many others expecting the world of Peter when he's still just a kid who's expertise is stopping bike thiefs and helping elders cross the street. They set him so high on this pedestal that when he falls the impact will be so much harder.
The Kids Are All Dying by FINNEAS - Everyone turning against Peter because of Mysterio's lies. Peter frustrated they're so focused on him, just a kid who's trying to do good, that they're blind to the real problems. Everyone is so gullible and maybe Peter is second guessing being a hero considering how angry everyone is at him for it.
Figure 8 by Paramore - "all for your sake, became the very thing that I hate, I lost my way" this song is Peter's frustration at Mysterio and shield in general, how they took him and forced him to be someone he wasn't and how it backfired "I was only being kind but you mistook me for weak" Peter is far more trusting and forgiving than most, but once he's mad... his true strength shows.
Would've, Could've, Should've by Taylor Swift - Peter regretting trusting Beck. "If I was a child did it matter, if you got to wash your hands" Beck doesn't care that Peter is an innocent kid in this, only cares about his goal and hatred for Tony. "but lord you made me feel important, and then you tried to erase us" Beck made him feel seen and special in a time where no one else was (Peter had low self esteem and was easy to manipulate).
Why by Derivakat - another Beck and Peter angst theme (Mysterio is my fave villain sorry lol) "look at what you've done, is this what you call glory? do you still believe you're the hero of your story?" Beck has caused so much suffering just because of his grudge against a dead man. "you act like a judge enforcing your personal grudge. am I to pay for this war you've raised?" Beck admits that Peter is an innocent chest pawn in all this, and still Peter ends up losing the most.
Daylight by Taylor Swift - Peter and MJ anthem 🥺 finally seeing the great thing that has been right in front of him all along. Also- "I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked" hurting his friends because he trusted Mysterio. "Clearing the air I breathed in the smoke" Peter clearing his name from what Beck did to protect his friends, but he ended up poisoning himself (No Way Home ending).
because i liked a boy by Sabrina Carpenter - all because Peter trusted Beck he nearly destroyed the planet and then he lost everyone he loves. "now I'm a homewrecker I'm a slut, I got death threats filling up semi trucks. tell who I am, guess I don't have a choice. All because I liked a boy" change homewrecker and slut into menace and murderer and it's just like what the media is saying, sending Spider-Man constant hate and telling him who he is, and all is happening because Peter trusted Beck and gave him the power of EDITH.
What I'm Becoming by Cage The Elephant - Peter and May :(. "I'm so sorry honey, for what I'm becoming. Everything you wanted, seems so far from me. never meant to hurt you no, never meant to make you cry" May wanted Peter to be selfless and kind, to vouch for second chances even for criminals and villains. Now Peter is the one trying to take Green Goblin's life because he got May killed, and deep down he knows May would be disappointed.
my tears ricochet by Taylor Swift - No Way Home final battle and saying goodbyes. "you wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me... cause when I'd fight you used to tell me I was brave, and if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake. cursing my name, wishing I stayed, look at how my tears ricochet" MJ still wearing the necklace after forgetting. Desperate and making Peter promise he'll get her to remember, sharing tears. They're all haunted by someone they used to know. "I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home" is of course Peter being a free man but at the cost of losing everything he called home.
R.I.P. 2 My Youth by The Neighborhood - basically Peter losing all of his mentor's and support system, leaving school and getting a place of his own - the end to his youth. He steps fully into his role as Spider-Man and with it Peter Parker, the sweet naive kid he was, has died.
Making the Bed by Olivia Rodrigo - "push away all the people who know me the best, but it's me who's been making the bed". Even though it was Peter's decision to erase his name and protect the people he cared about, he hates going back to that dingey apartment all alone each day. "another thing I ruined, I used to do for fun" is about how bittersweet being Spidey is now.
Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephant - "cigarette daydream, you were only seventeen. So sweet with a mean streak" this song's vibes are sweet boy beaten down, still trying to remain gentle in the face of violence :( Peter looking for reasons to remain good while everything crumbles around him.
Your Best American Girl by Mitski - "you have so much to do, but I have nothing head of me" Peter to his friends. He knew being Spider-Man he'd never have a normal life, so he decided to let them go instead of dragging them down with him. "you're the one, you're all I ever wanted I think I'll regret this" is Peter in that coffee shop making the final decision to leave them.
Happy Now? by FINNEAS - Peter's journey as Spider-Man, a post No Way Home Peter reminiscing about his career. I love the line "always such an anxious child, never wild, always worrying". Makes me think about homecoming Peter and how he was giving up all his clubs and time with his friends to be a superhero just because he felt a responsibility (civil war Peter telling Tony why he does this speech).
The Plan (Fuck Jobs) by The Front Bottoms - sardonic Peter, bitter and sarcastic post No Way Home. Him vs. the daily bugle, a broke and mentally unstable young adult. Comic Peter vibes.
Ya'burnee by Halsey - Peter thinking about MJ and how badly he wants to confess to her again who he is and why he loves her. They had so little time to be a couple together, immediately sweeped into a media circus and having their lives endangered time and time again. This song is just a Peter Parker open heart surgery.
I miss you, I'm sorry by Gracie Abrams - bittersweet anthem to Peter MJ and Ned ending their friendship. "nothing happened in the way I wanted... I don't want go think I'll make it worse, everything I know brings me back to us" :(
Matilda by Harry Styles - "you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside" Peter is such an optimist. He left that coffee shop with a smile for his friends getting into MIT, but he doesn't allow himself to feel grief for that life he was supposed to have too. I think he deserves to feel his sadness and understand it wasn't his fault, that nothing is wrong with him. "you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up/for doing it on your own" I hope he doesn't regret his choices, and that things will get better for him.
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oakitty · 4 months ago
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MY DDBA THOUGHTS !!! spoilers ofc, though its mostly about fan reactions + a bit of meta commentary.
i apologise if its a lil incoherent it is 3am and i should be asleep
bro people are being so negative about ddba for no reason its actually annoying. like yeah of course they were gonna kill foggy??? we all knew that ???? dgmw i love him so much and hope its a fakeout but also. we werent going to get foggy or karen at ALL in the og version, so im thankful we got what we got.
it was reworked when they had already filmed like 6 episodes with the original premise etc, which didnt have foggy or karen, so they needed a reason for them not to be in the majority of the season after the rework.
additionally, in the comic run the title is from, karen gets assassinated by bullseye. so either way someone was dying. and, in my opinion, foggy being/appearing to be dead adds a bit more weight to matt as a character, as he has been known to bottle up his emotions, and since hes also not been fighting/daredeviling (which was his emotional outlet), i feel like when he *does* don the suit once more, it/he will feel vastly different.
(ngl i kinda feel like a lot of the outrage is coming from people who just wanna see stuff out of a fanfic/have had their perspective of the characters skewed a lot from reading lots of fanfic. which. kinda fair cos it has been 7 years. but still. do some critical thinking my guy)(not me dunking on fanfic btw i love fanfic it is the backbone of a fandom i love you fanfic writers)
also as a side tangent, i saw someone (i think it was Coy Jandreau) refer to ddba as being like a new comic run. like, yes, its the same characters, in the same timeline, etc, but now theres a new writer who wants to tell their own story. not wanting to jump in at the deep end with new characters and forgetting old ones, they provide a reason characters that may have been common in the previous run do not appear for *their* run. and as always, with new writers will also come a different storytelling method! genuinely, thinking about it in this way is making me feel more okay/comfortable with the writing differences between the og series and this new one.
ANYWAYS i am really enjoying the show and am VERY excited to see where they go with the stuff about cops misappropriating the punisher logo, the registration act, and to see the best father in the whole mcu again (yusuf khan) (i love that man)
edit: ALSO I FORGOT TO MENTION i love bullseye so muuch i want to kill him with my bare hands.
also my sheila (kingpin) 🫶 no one could ever make me hate you
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braveclementine · 1 year ago
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October 11: Sensory Deprivation (Stephen Strange) 💙
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Warning: 18+ readers only, Sensory Deprivation, Doctor kink, master kink, blowjob, ball gag, orgasm denial, restraints, blindfold, vibrator
Copyright: I do not own Doctor Strange (although he definitely owns me) or any other mentioned Marvel/MCU characters. I also do not condone any copying of this post.
You had almost gotten yourself killed on a mission. Stephen had gone through all the natural stages of being a lover at this point. Worried sick, then relief, and then absolute fury.
Stephen rarely got angry with you. Others got him riled up easily, but not you. In fact, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you were the one that calmed him down. But in that one percent left, when he got angry with you, if often led to sex. Torturous, pleasurable sex.
At least, that's what it usually was. But now, he had left you, for what felt like years, tied to the bed with a blindfold over your eyes.
You were completely naked, senses cut off except for the feel of smooth, almost warm metal around your wrists and ankles, and the soft feather sheets underneath you. You could also feel the cotton blindfold over your eyes, the strings just across your ears.
"Don't make a sound." He had said before leaving, "I'll be back in a few."
Few what? Minutes? Certainly not. You had counted up to five minutes several times by now. Hours? Possibly. Weeks? It was starting to feel like it.
No, it was probably hours. You hadn't gotten hungry yet.
But you were starting to feel frustrated. Was this seriously your punishment for getting shot on that mission? He was just going to tie you up and leave you there for a few hours? This was no where near fun.
After a year (Three hours and twenty-four minutes), you heard the door open. The person made no sound and you sincerely hoped it wasn't Wong or Bucky or Bruce or any of the other possible Avengers that might walk into the room.
But the person made not a noise, and you had no idea who they were. You could barely hear them breathing.
The tension was increasing in your spine until you felt a single finger start to trace lines from the base of your throat, down to your navel, and back up. You let out a shuddering breath. It had to be Stephen, right?
One finger became two full hands, running them over your body. You were starting to get turned on, and you realized now exactly what your punishment was.
Sensory Deprivation.
You couldn't see him, couldn't predict his next move. Well, actually, you could. You knew he wasn't going to be touching you anywhere you wanted until you begged. And you were very close to begging.
Your bottom lip trembled a little in want before suddenly, lithe fingers pinched your nipples, pulling them.
You let out your first sound, a yelp, arching your back. Finally, you heard that quiet chuckle and your questions were answered. It was indeed Stephen.
"S-Stephen."
"Mm, no, I don't think so." Stephen said. "You have been a bad little girl, haven't you? Almost killing yourself on that mission. I was worried sick. No, you don't get to call me by my name now. You're either going to call me Doctor or Master."
You whimpered as he slapped you clit. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, just sting, and it turned you on immensely, arousal pooling between your legs and he chuckled darkly.
Your body was tingling with nerves, goosebumps breaking out everywhere from the sudden touch. You could feel every spot he had touched and caressed, although stung by fire, especially your breasts, itching for his touch.
"Doctor please." You mumbled. "Please, I've waited so long."
"I've waited longer." He growled. "So you're just going to have to suffer."
Now you realized why Stephen had refused to have sex with you. You had figured he just didn't want to reopen the stitches or something. Now, you knew it was because he knew exactly how he wanted to punish you. And now you were needy and desperate. Exactly the way he wanted you.
Stephen pinched your clit between his fingers, making you squeal. He chuckled again. He was being so cruel and yet, you were loving it for some reason.
His finger rubbed your clit slowly and unevenly. You were panting, desperate for something more. Anything more.
"Doctor please. I need more. Please."
One finger spreading your folds. He blew cold breath on your core, making you shiver. He pulled away again before you felt weight settle on your chest. You could sense his knees on the sides of your face.
"Open up." He growled.
You opened obediently and felt his length go down your throat. You closed you eyes, although really it didn't matter.
Your tongue wrapped around him, sucking him off. You ran your tongue up and down his length, feeling the thickness and pulsing veins. You could taste salt and you sucked hard when you got closer to the tip, causing Stephen to hiss.
You went back down on his length the best you could, before dragging your teeth lightly over a sensitive spot. Stephen hissed again and he leaned forward on your chest. His fingers thumbed your nipples again and you sucked on him harder, desperate to please.
Then he moved his hands away and the only thing you felt was a burn in the back of your throat as he bucked his hips into you with a groan. You could almost picture him with his head thrown back, galaxy-coloured eyes closed.
You felt him twitching and you worked to the max to get him to release, which he did, and you swallowed. Once he pulled slowly from his lips, you waited for him to say something, swallowing over and over to get it out of your throat.
"S-Stephen?" You asked quietly. It was so quiet, you couldn't even hear him breathe. You hadn't heard him leave the room either through door or portal, but you couldn't remember if the window was open and the cape could've taken him out.
And then suddenly, there was a huge electrical shock that went straight to your clit. He had fucking snuck up on you, putting a vibrator to your clit.
As quickly as it came, it was pulled away. Your legs seemed to spasm uncontrollably for a few seconds, trying to understand what had just happened when you couldn't see it.
"You're not going on anymore missions." Stephen's voice was dark and you could just barely make out the fact that he was walking around the bed.
"Bu-"
"No." He growled. "Not after that Y/N. Do you understand? I'm not going through that again. You're going to suffer this punishment, and then I'm going to take all of my anger out on you. And then, you're never going on another mission, ever again, unless its a simple one. There will be no arguments and limited complaints."
You stayed silent, feeling frustrated. It wasn't that bad! Sure, you'd been close to death, but you'd recovered, hadn't you?
Another seemingly electric jolt made your entire body jerk on the bed, also effectively jerking you out of your thoughts.
"Stephen, I don't think that's fair. We should talk abou-"
"How would you like it, if I was the one in the hospital, and I decided I was still going to go on missions?" His voice was dangerously low and you heard a drawer being opened somewhere. "What if the next mission is your last one? You dodged death once, do you really need to test it again?"
"B-" When you opened your mouth, he took the advantage and you felt something large and rubber forced between your teeth, strapping it together behind your head.
He was playing dirty.
Stephen was quiet again, and then you felt something light and soft- a feather?- dithering lightly up your body. It tickled mostly, crawling up your thighs, dipping into your belly button, it traveled up your stomach, circling both breasts before lightly brushing over your pert nipples, it traced up into your neck and he even brought it up across your chin and circled your nose with it, making it itch. You scrunched your nose in protest- as you couldn't scratch it.
And then the feather was gone. And then it was back, traveling back down towards your belly button, across your thigh, and then dithered towards your folds, brushing your clit so lightly it was. . . well like a feather.
You frustration was mounting. You couldn't see anything, you could barely hear, even though cutting off your sight should've increased your hearing. You just wanted to be fucked. And then you realized it would mean you'd have to give in to his demands.
The feather was gone again and Stephen was silent. You knew he hadn't left, because of his even breathing. But there was no touching and it felt like your entire body was on fire. Every place that the feather had touched begged to either be touched again with a firmer touch or be itched.
"Stephen please!" You begged, writhing on the sheets to the best of your ability, the chains around your wrists and ankles holding you tight and fast.
He made a tsking sound in the back of his throat, but didn't acknowledge you anymore.
You paused, thinking over everything he had said and then you said, "Doctor, please, I need you!"
"Oh?" Stephen's voice was light and dark at the same time. "You need me, do you? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I need you too?"
Your neediness was starting to get to you. You writhed desperately on the beds. "Okay, fine! I won't go on anymore missions master."
You heard wood creak and you knew he'd been sitting down. His large hand cupped your face, startling you for a moment. "Promise?"
"Promise doctor. Please? Need you!"
You could always argue in your favor later when you weren't at a disadvantage. Of course. . . you had also just promised and Stephen hated broken promises. Maybe you should've thought it over more before you agreed so rashly. Damn your horniness!
There was a sudden electric pulse running through your body, legs shaking as he put the vibrator on you once more. This time, he held it there, his other hand playing with the flesh of your mounds. "That's it kitten." He whispered. "Fucking cum for me. I'm going to make you cum over and over again now and I'm going to show your tight, precious little cunt who owns her."
You couldn't even think of a witty response before you were shattering apart, walls clenching down on nothing but air as you came.
He owned you, oh yes he did. 
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moonshine999 · 2 years ago
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How I would have done Wanda in the MCU (Part 1)
Note that these are just my opinions and if you do not agree then simply scroll away and ignore it
Hellooo
So I may make this a recurring thing but for today, I’d like to discuss Wanda Maximoff or the Scarlet Witch. 
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Note the fact that obviously everything that was going to happen to her character arc in phase 4 was not planned when she was seen in winter soldier so I do have the benefit of hindsight and this is by no means, something that should have been done or anything. 
I am not a screenwriter and this will not be perfect.
This is a 3 part series of sorts where 
Part 1 : phase 2 (the winter soldier, age of ultron) 
Part 2 : phase 3 (civil war, infinity war, endgame) 
Part 3 : phase 4 (wandavision, multiverse of madness, some other ideas of where they could take her character) 
Keeping that in mind, let’s get into it 
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Captain America : The Winter Soldier 
Now this post credit scene is crucial as it sets up both the twins
Now as creepy as the original sequence already is
A more ominous version could be done so that it not only ties into her sort of gothic persona in Age of Ultron but also the witchy side in wandavision and multiverse of madness 
The credits are rolling but then as soon as they’re about the finish, the music cuts off and the screen goes black
As it fades into the scene, we see the back of two of the scientists’ heads 
They are discussing some people with genetic mutations that they have caught at a recent protest
“Isn’t their kind supposed to be extinct or something?” one of them whispers 
“Who knows at this point. This wouldn’t be the first time they showed up out of nowhere” the other mutters
As they continue talking, their voices fade out and we pan over to the file in front of them 
Wanda Maximoff.                Pietro Maximoff 
Aged 20                                Aged 20 
Mutations :                            Mutations : 
Telekinesis                            Enhanced speed
Neuro-electro interfacing    Increased metabolism 
Mind control                           Enhanced perception 
And then as the mumble of voices in the background continue, we see what they are talking about 
A blur moves in front of them, only incased by the walls 
Then a cut to a shot of her hands as they trap the floating blocks within red wisps 
Then a cut as she crashes two together 
Just the hands
Unknown to a casual fan 
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Now you may notice that I have aged them up but that is simply to align with her age in wandavision 
I have also given Pietro some extra powers simply because speedsters are really powerful and he was killed off early and severely under utilised for a reason 
Also I think it sets up her powers better than Maria Hill just telling us and keeps them clear so that they don’t get confusing in later projects ( * cough cough * wandavision and multiverse of madness ) 
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Avengers : Age of Ultron 
“You and I can hurt them, but you.. can tear them apart”
Now it is widely acknowledged that this film isn’t the best but one of the points I think it really missed out on was the twins. Because truth be told, Pietro’s death barely had an impact ( on the audience ) 
So the things I would have done differently would be : 
🥀 Adding one more scene (or two) between the twins 
It could just be them discussing how they don’t agree with Ultron anymore and how he has gotten out of hand
This can explore their dynamics
Wanda, despite being younger, acts older and takes charge of the conversation and Pietro just pulls the 12 seconds older line which makes them both laugh as they look at each other, unsure of the future but knowing that’s whatever will happen - it’ll happen with them along side each other
Also I think Wanda acting older in this way can reflect how long she has been living on her own, being independent and how she reflects that onto others. By being protective of the only family she has left - her brother ( and eventually her children and vision ) 
🥀Even when they join with the Avengers because, she should resent Tony and Stark industries 
I find it weird how Tony’s missile causing the death of her parents is almost never acknowledged 
So (for now), it can just be small shots of the twins glaring at Tony whenever he speaks or them preferring to stand away or next to Clint or Steve rather than him 
🥀 I think her curiosity with Vision should have gone further 
He is basically a reboot of someone who wanted to destroy the world
How can she trust him? 
She trusted Ultron before she found this out 
But how can she him
I can picture Wanda being scared of looking into his head and then him encouraging her and them having a conversation (even if it’s small) 
Maybe they could talk about how Vision feels overwhelmed because this new world is a lot to process, Wanda in some ways feels the same. She is not a hero, she never thought she would be at least. And most of these people are foreign to her. She was taught to hate them by Ultron and now she is working with the very man that killed her parents. 
These similarities can be acknowledged and then a small line about them making plans to watch sit coms together can be dropped before Pietro smashes a jacket in her face - signalling they have to leave 
🥀The costumes 
This is very nit-picky but it has to be said 
The costumes for the twins are shit (in this movie) 
I get that they have just escaped hydra and don’t have much to wear and obviously won’t be the fashion icons of the century but they are just so terrible
Pietro’s are basically just gym clothes (which I don’t necessarily mind) 
But Wanda.. 
girlie is in a low cut, short dress that exposes part of her bra. You know when she is fighting a battle.
I just don’t get the point (other than just sexualising her) 
If they wanted to go for more of the goth (witch) thing, then something like replacing the jacked with a short coat (similar to the ending scene), or incorporating mesh or more leather (for more of the superhero look)
But I think her hair open in does work, simply because of how it still looks a bit amateur compared to Nat who has cut it short for convenience and also how it looks as she finally breaks down 
(P.S I love the rings, the cuffs and the boots she wears though and I think they really fit in with her vibes) 
🥀what she did to Bruce 
It should have been explored more and she should have faced more consequences or even confrontation 
She drove him mad and caused a rampage 
Something that he used to have in control but now isn’t sure anymore and makes him doubt himself even more 
She should have faced repercussions but she didn’t 
Another plot point the movie just left hanging
A small scared glance from Bruce, him standing next to Tony opposite her or anything 
And then in the final battle, she does something to save him 
Obviously it doesn’t automatically fix things and he does not forgive her (or even himself) but it does set up the fact she is trying to become better 
🥀One more thing that doesn’t really need to happen but would have been cool
The fact that they mentioned the twins’ parents and how Ultron wants to turn the entire world to metal and there is not a single mention of magneto
Like I know he probably isn’t her father in the MCU and Fox probably still owned the rights but one line from Ultron about how “your father would have loved this” or “you are going to make your parents proud” would have been really cool
Both can blend right in as it ties into her motivation to side with Ultron in the first place 
Just some things I like about her character in the movie : 
🥀Olsen is and always has been amazing in her performances and this movie is no different 
🥀her relationship with hawkeye is really sweet 
🥀the scene where vision is ‘born’ and the first person the camera looks over to is Wanda- 
🥀when she finally loses her shit and cries out in grief of her brother 
🥀the way she hasn’t yet mastered how to fight yet or even her powers but she is trying to prove and better herself with people like Vision, Cap and Clint supporting her and fuelled by the grief and rage of her brother’s death 
🥀the scene where she steps out after Clint’s speech 
Alright
That’s it for today 
Let me know if there are any changes you would like to have seen 
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beyourshelter · 7 months ago
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— character sheet —
Trustworthy, convicted, loyal to a T. This guy is certainly One Good Boy™, but let's not forget he's definitely used a speeding motorcycle as a melee weapon before.
basics.
born — july 4th, 1918 iced — 1945 thawed — 2012 age — ((whatever year we set it in) - 2012) + 27 height — 6'2" weight — 240lbs eye color — blue hair color — blonde
personality.
A good heart with a Brooklyn attitude. Steve might be the poster child for AMURRICA, but he's also pretty feisty. The sort to take on everybody's burdens, while bottling up his own. Hidden beneath layers of bravado scooped on to solidify his "steady pillar of support" mask, Steve struggles with displacement, identity, purpose, and loneliness.
You'd never know it. He'll excuse himself to hide in a stairwell while gritting his teeth against that painful sting behind his eyes. Hell, even he barely knows it. Suppress, buck up, move on. Someone's gotta be the strong one, right?
In terms of romantic relationships? A w k w a r d. He watched the love of his life jump from one age to the next, kept her company even while her mind degraded, and got word of her passing via text message. Ouch. Before that? War. Before that? Not much luck with the ladies. Which all mixes together into a stew of: what do I do with my hands?
Highly protective of the underdog, the little guy, the people everyone's given up on.
"You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed ... walk it off."
shipping.
Primarily ship Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes, though I'm open to other pairings. Prefer M/M, but I can make exceptions if the characters vibe. Gotta have chemistry with our writing, first. I'm rarely interested in established relationships. Gimme that s l o w b u r n.
NOTE: All relationships are platonic until proven otherwise. I like a good romance arc, but I really gotta vibe with the writer first.
plotting.
Big fan of these tropes:
exploring sexual identity ("I didn't know I was gay")
trapped together
on the run
"help I've been thrown into an alternate universe and my traumatized, war-torn-ass is not used to genuine human kindness"
sure he's a villain but he's my villain
"I think I love you." — "You tried to kill me!!"
highly intelligent and also cripplingly dumb
"Are you flirting with me?" — "I'm holding a gun to your head." — "The question stands."
references.
All my inspiration comes from the MCU. I haven't read the comics, so if there's a comics-only connection to Steve, I definitely don't know about it.
This character is a mix of MCU + my own personal take. His personality changes a bit depending on the verse he's in. Nature and nurture, y'know.
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agirlwithachakram · 2 years ago
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Yeah, I’m trying to tease it out. It makes for a good hard hitting ending, with Marc and Steven protecting each other, giving the finger to The Man (who also has the face of their killer), and co-piloting, maybe even blending, and hey, both fish! Representing them both! They can do this together and be happier that way! (I think Marc is Gus and Steven is Gus 2, not because Steven is a fake replacement, but because Marc is, let’s face it, struggling worse than Steven at all times, even if he doesn’t look it. On the other hand, Steven is taking care of his fish he knows and loves, and then suddenly a different fish is dumped in his lap and he has to take care of that one instead, so maybe it’s the opposite. ANYWAY.)
Symbolically and aesthetically great. If you try to work out the logistics, it makes no sense at all.
In the BTS doc Ethan and others talk about how the Dr. Harrow scenes could be reality and everything else is Marc’s brain creating fantasies to protect him from everything he’s been through, like the Buffy episode. We know that’s not true because of literally everything else in the entire MCU, but it’s interesting if Marc thinks it is.
It’s a little strange that they go back to the psych ward of the dead while they’re still alive. I guess the point is to offer the little psych out of "ooh what if Dr. Harrow is real and evil Harrow is fake!" and also because it's a good way to demonstrate they're fully in tune now, they both show up there together instead of one or the other.
However practically speaking I am not sure why Jake kicked them out of the body right at that moment, unless it was to get Harrow away from Layla. But that evidently didn’t work. He could’ve killed Harrow in the pyramid with much less fuss than finessing his way into a mental hospital and shooting a man ten feet away from other humans. Absolutely bonkers plan. Should’ve driven him out of town.
Anyway, here’s what I think. I think Jake took over to work shit out with Khonshu and to kill Harrow, but Layla was there. And he’s not an entirely rogue agent here, he doesn’t want to make the others look bad to Layla, but he also can’t reveal himself right now. So he has to do something with Harrow that’s reasonable, and if he shakes off his wife and kills Harrow, she’s gonna know. That’s why he takes him back to England and sends him to, I am guessing, the same hospital Steven was recommended? It’d make sense since he’d have the brochure or whatever. I didn’t check on that. He’s gonna kill him, but he needs to make Layla think he’s not. But he does ditch her somehow.
I think at the moment he could fake being Marc and maybe Steven, though probably not both at once. Enough to fool Layla for a bit. She probably suspects there’s a third after that fight blackout, but maybe not. It’s been like two days, she hasn’t slept since the plane, she only just found out her husband has DID so I doubt she’s done the reading, and she barely got time to see them working together outside of the fight. When she did know who they were it’s because they were each being Extremely Them. She knows them, but Jake is an unknown.
Anyway, Jake drops off Harrow, picks up the fish, and resets the sand and ankle restraint FOR THE AESTHETIQUE? THE MELODRAMA? I DON’T EVEN KNOW. THIS GUY IS RIDICULOUS. WHY DID HE DO THE ANKLE CUFF?!?! DID HE WANT THEM TO FACEPLANT?
Meanwhile poor Layla is like. did this bastard just leave me AGAIN.
if I were her I would scream more.
but I’m guessing she shows up at his door within minutes to yell at him.
re the bit about Jake being known...
my sense is, yeah, you're right, Marc has known about Jake for a long time and every time he tries to think about it he panics. as long as he “doesn’t know” then it’s not his fault what happens. which jake no doubt encourages, as part of his deal is protecting marc from the brutality his body is committing. steven will probs be the one to force the issue. (marc wasn't surprised by the red sarcophagus, he just didn't want to face it.)
I’m betting Jake is the one who got him kicked out of the Marines, though I don’t think he did it because he’s scary and ruthless and blah blah blah, I think Marc was struggling and in desperate need of a break from everything so Jake was like. Well. let’s get us a break. and then they were gone too long and got dishonorably institutionalized and so on. and Marc’s like “uhhh fugue state” because he does vaguely remember some of it, he knows Steven wasn’t involved and he doesn’t want there to be a third so he lies to himself and Steven and presumably everyone else. he does lie a LOT.
show: And then Steven and Marc woke up in their own flat with BOTH goldfish in the tank, yay!
me, trying to figure out how Jake managed to ditch Layla, and how and why he put Harrow in a (presumably London) hospital if he was just going to kill him anyway, did he have the real Gus kenneled the whole time, is the wife going to storm in furious at the 1-2 days of radio silence after her husband(s) DIED AND CAME BACK and they still haven't really talked about the desert massacre, also she still doesn't know a lot about what's going on in their head, oh and is she keeping the avatar gig for now or what,
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talon-x · 2 years ago
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Yes my special interest show was canceled prematurely after 2 seasons and essentially written out of existence by other stories in the hell conglomerate of the MCU but sometimes that's just how it is🤷‍♀️
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