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itsjusthockey · 9 months

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Hughes Your Daddy? - Jack Hughes

hahahaha finally

enjoy

request

If I get 10+ comments/asks ill make a part 2

Yes, that's me bribing you, I want more interactions

w.c: 3,007 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

Pt.2

The last few weeks of college are the worst weeks of a student's life. There’s nothing but studying, finals, and pure hell. Yet, when Ellen Hughes calls and tells you to get on a flight to Vancouver to be present at the Hughes Bowl, you fucking get on a flight to Vancouver.

The flight itself is terrific; you study a bit of your flashcards, drink some hot cocoa, and even get in a solid half-hour nap. You honestly feel a little sad when the intercoms go off, and they announce your descent into Canada.

The sadness washes away quickly when you clear the clouds and realize how excited you are. This trip, tomorrow’s game, is a very, very special event. Each Hughes brother will be playing on the ice tomorrow night, and you’ll be sitting, as requested, in the Hughes box overlooking it all.

As soon as the 737 touches down, you’re quick to switch your phone off airplane mode. You appreciated the few hours of bliss without endless notifications, but life has to go on. As soon as the iPhone gets service, a flood of messages rolls through. One from Ellen, to which you respond. Two from Quinn, which you answer. And 36 messages from Jack, which you ignore.

You should respond, and you will, but first, you have to get off the plane and find your favorite chauffeur.

Without further delay, you exit the plane, grabbing your carry-on and swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You smile at the few flight attendants on the way out and throw an extra thank you to the woman who gave you some extra cookies when she saw your flashcards.

The Vancouver airport is bustling, and you can’t help but feel the positive vibes radiating from the space. The entire airport is decorated for Christmas, and you’re reminded why it’s ranked one of the best airports in North America.

You make your way to the baggage claim, checking your phone to ensure you’re heading toward the right spot. You are, and while you’re walking, you pass all the cute little shops. You see a couple of little knickknacks, and you make a mental note to pick up something on your flight back. Now, however, you must focus.

The baggage claim area is pretty full, and you’re dodging people left and right. You’re unsure in the sea of people where Quinn might be hiding until you hear your name shouted from somewhere to your left. You turn your body, and there he is, waving a bit and standing with a small smile.

“Oh my god, is that Quinn Hughes?” You say in mock shock as you get within his earshot. “The newest captain of the Canucks and Vancouver's most precious gem?”

He rolls his eyes back as far as he can when you approach, but nonetheless, he pulls you in for a hug.

“Please stop.” He groans out as your part and takes your carry-on from you.

“Never.” You smile as he leads you out of the airport.

It takes mere minutes to get to the car, and you both catch up about whatever. It’s been months since you’ve seen Quinn, and whenever you’re with him, you’re reminded why he might be your favorite besides Ellen and Jim, of course.

As soon as you are settled into the passenger of Quinn’s car, he reaches back behind him and pulls out a small gift bag.

“Here, before I forget.”

You give him a questioning look, and he just gives you a slight smirk.

“Just open it. It’s more of a gift to everyone else.”

You squint your eyes a bit suspiciously but pull the tissue paper from the bag. As soon as you do, you see the familiar blue and white colors, and a laugh burst from your lips.

“Oh my god.” You shriek out, laughing, pulling the Canucks jersey from the bag.

You both immediately start laughing, and you can hardly contain yourself.

“Of course, you don’t have to wear it for the game.” Quinn says. “but he’s gonna flip if he sees you wearing it when they get here.”

You scan the Jersey and agree with the boy next to you. Your boyfriend is very possessive when it comes to jerseys, and he hates everything that isn’t red, black, or white and doesn’t have Hughes 86 plastered on the back.

“Oh, this is gold, Quinn.” You say, tucking the jersey back in as Quinn moves the car out of the lot.

“Ma and I thought so, too. She said it might humble him for the night.”

Speaking of humbling your boyfriend, you reach for your phone and go to text him back. You scan the many messages and roll your eyes at a few. Most of them are him just wanting attention, but the last one catches your eye.

we’re 2 hours behind ur flight. No fun or smiling before I get there

You read the text allowed to Quinn, who rolls his eyes at the statement, and you’re quick to shoot a response back, telling Jack that it’s too late and you’re having the best time ever.

————————-

As soon as you step through Quinn’s front door, you hear a happy yell, and Ellen is pulling you in for a long-awaited hug. You practically melt as she squishes you, and the happiest of laughs exits her.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy this worked out.” She says to you, pulling back just enough to look at your smiling face.

You look behind her as Jim is standing nearby, waiting his turn. You give Ellen one less squeeze and then turn to the original Hughes and give him a big hug.

“Hey, kiddo,” He says. “Glad you’re here.”

As soon as you say your hellos, you move to get your stuff settled into your room. As quickly as you can, you throw your stuff down and pull on the New Jersey, making your way back out to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter, Jim laughs, and Ellen raises her hands to her mouth.

“Oh, Jack is gonna hate it.” She turns to Quinn and laughs, using him to steady her.

“Oh, we know.” You say, high-fiving Quinn as you grab a cup of some water.

As soon as you get your water, you all settle into the living room, and questions are flying left and right. You talk about school, work, and whatever else comes to mind about the time you’ve spent away from them. They hang onto every word, and you can’t help but smile. You’ve always been close to Jack's family, but when the one-year mark passed, it’s like they fully accepted you as one of them. Now, almost two years in, Ellen and Jim treat you like the daughter they never had, and they tell you often how much more they like you than any of their sons. You always laugh, but you know deep down that you are special to them. And that fact alone makes you consider yourself one of the luckiest girls.

“They just landed,” Quinn announces. “Almost showtime.”

Ellen winks at you from her space on the couch, and you settle deeper into the comfortable space, counting down the seconds until your boyfriend walks through the door.

—————————-

About half an hour later, you hear loud commotion as the door swings open and Jack and Luke enter the building. It takes less than three seconds for Jack to yell.

“Where is she?”

You laugh at him and yell back from the living room. “I’m in here.”

In mere seconds, Jack is in the room, making a beeline toward you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a month, and you won’t lie; he looks pretty good.

You make your move and step off the couch, going to hug him, but he halts in his place a few feet away, giving you a once-over.

“Get that shit off you.”

As soon as that leaves his mouth, everyone busts out laughing, and Jack gives you a less-than-impressed look. You feel a bit bad, so you give him a small smile and lift the jersey off your frame, revealing a Devils t-shirt underneath.

As soon as you throw the jersey away, he takes two long strides and engulfs you in a hug. You thought that nothing could beat Ellen’s hug, but Jack's grip nearly breaks your back.

You pull away after a second and pry him off of you. You love him more than anything, but you’re not about to show massive amounts of PDA in front of his parents, who are sitting a few feet away.

He gets this because he lets you go and gives his parents and brother a quick greeting, then leads you away from the living room. Everyone allows it to happen, and you find yourself in the privacy of the bedroom.

“You’re funny, but you better have my jersey for tomorrow night.”

You let out a small laugh and cross the room again, linking your hand behind his head and pulling him closer to you. His hands find home on your waist, and his fingertips dip under your shirt a bit, gently squeezing.

“I promise, J,” you grin. “I’ll do my best to show support to the losing team.”

He releases a soft gasp and gives you a slight look of betrayal.

“Losing team?”

Your grin goes even wider. “Check that stats, bud. You’re in a bit of a losing streak.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, and with one quick motion, he grabs your frame and tosses you on the bed. He enters attack mode, lays his entire weight on you, and begins grabbing at your sides. You, of course, go into defense mode and fight to push him off. You fight for power for a minute before you pull your defining move. He gets close, too close, and you give him your best doe eyes. The second he catches your stare, he folds, and he puts himself at your mercy.

For the first time in a hot minute, you pull him to meet you; the second his lips are on you, you implode. It’s been too long, and there is nothing more comforting and familiar than the boy lying nearly on top of you. You kiss him for a minute, your lips molding perfectly together before you pull away, gently patting his face.

“I think your family would like to see you.”

You push him away again as he rolls his eyes.

“I see them enough.”

He goes back to try to kiss you, but you push him away, putting a finger to his lips and shaking your head.

“Come on.”

He lets out an annoyed huff and removes himself from the bed, pulling you up along with him. You make your way back to the family room and laugh yourself into the family events.

Soon, you’re all playing board games, and you find out very quickly reminded about how sore of a loser your boyfriend is. You play board games cards, and when it gets late enough in the night, you all make your way to the living room for a movie.

You watch something light-hearted, and you can’t help but feel bliss as you’re tucked into Jack's side, surrounded by the entirety of the Hughes family. It’s a nice moment, and it’s the times like this that have you thankful you’ve stuck with the boy at your side.

——————

Before the sun rises, Jack's alarm blares next to you, and you can only groan at the noise. Alarms are truly nothing but an escape from bliss, and you wish you could stay forever in this little bubble. You’re warm comfy, and you don’t mind the boy you’re cuddled next to.

But alas, he is a slave to hockey, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips and swings himself out of bed. You follow a few minutes later, moving at a sloth pace. Instead of getting fully ready, you make your way downstairs to where the smell of bacon is wafting through the house. You’re almost giddy as you see Ellen and Quinn making breakfast, and you get even happier when Ellen places a steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

“You’re an angel, thank you.”

She gives you a big smile and pours another cup for herself. As soon as you catch the time, you offer to take Quinn’s place with the cooking, to which he gladly accepts and runs off to shower and get ready for the big game.

As soon as all the Hughes boys are out of earshot, you get down to business.

“I’ll raise to fifty on the Devs.”

Jim scoffs at your bet. “I love ‘em, but I disagree. Offense has been a bit sloppy. I’ll raise to a hundred on the Nucks.”

You quirk your eyebrow, then turn to the Queen, who seems to be pondering.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I think I’m gonna say Nucks too.”

You let out a soft groan but hold your ground.

“Alright. Final bet is a hundred. Winner takes all.

You all shake hands, sealing the deal.

As if you weren’t up to gambling, you act as naturally as possible as the three boys enter the kitchen. Each one is clad in a suit, and it warms your heart to see them all together. They look adorable, and you can’t help but laugh when Ellen demands a picture. They oblige, but like every other photo they take, it slightly looks like they’re being held at gunpoint. But you win some, you lose some.

Eventually, you’re all fed, happy, and once another alarm goes off, you know it’s time. You say your goodbyes to the boys, wishing them the best of luck. You hug Quinn, do your secret handshake with Luke, and press a quick kiss to Jack's lips.

Once you finish, they say their goodbyes to their parents and make their way toward the door, but they don’t get far before Jack pulls you toward him one last time.

“You ready to watch me destroy Quinn?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a laugh. Nonetheless, you give him one last peck, swat his ass, and yell one final encouragement as he heads out the door.

“Don’t embarrass me!”

He flips you the bird as he gets into Quinn’s vehicle, and you smile and give him one back as you head back into the house.

You sit back down to finish talking with the parents l, and time ticks by faster than you’d like. Soon enough, it’s time to get ready, and you throw on your devil's jersey. You say a little prayer and hope they all do good. Things like this don’t happen often, and you hope it’s simply a good game.

———————

You smiled as wide as you could as the three Hughes brothers posed for a couple of pictures. You could see the distaste on all their faces, but they did it anyway.

Once they do the appropriate media, the game begins, and you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. It’s a good game, no, a great game. Soon, the first period is almost over, but not before your boyfriend has to remind everyone who he is, and he scores a goal.

It’s known that the Hughes parents don’t show much emotion at the games, and even more so when it’s their sons playing on opposite teams. So you control yourself, but you don’t miss when Ellen squeezes your hand.

The game continues, and it’s a nail-biter. Each minute you watch, you get more and more tense. Maybe it’s because you’re just nervous, or perhaps it’s the fact you have a hundred bucks on the line. But either way, you pray the clock ticks faster.

It doesn’t, but once Luke scores, you can’t help but start to think that this might be the end of a losing streak. You laugh on the inside because, of course, all it takes is a little brother rivalry to get the Devils back into motion.

———————

When the clock hits zero, and the Devils win, you practically die in your seat. You’re so thrilled for Jack and Luke, but a small part of you is a bit depressed for Quinn. But you know, if anyone can handle a loss like this, it’s the eldest Hughes, so you’re not too worried. Instead, you focus on your boyfriend, who, even from the box, looks the happiest he’s been in a while. He was given the title of the first star of the game, and you absolutely love it when he’s like this. You know he’s going to be in one of those unstoppable moods. You love it, but he can be a cocky little shit, and you know he’s going to be almost insufferable. You’ll take it, though, and embrace every part of it.

A few minutes later, the area starts clearing, and you’re all getting ready to leave the box, but you almost forget what is happening when Jim slides you a crisp hundred-dollar bill and winks at you.

“Jack really pulls out the stops when you’re at a game.”

You let a blush creep onto your face as you take the bill. You’d be lying if you said that you felt bad. This isn’t the first game you’ve bet on against Jim, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Alright, you two gamblers, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”

Ellen leads the three of you down to where you’ll see the men of the hour. You feel the happiest you’ve felt in a while as you follow behind them, and when you get close enough, you can hear your boyfriend laugh from a short distance. Your heart skips the noise, and as soon as he spots you from across the room, he moves as fast as lightning to get to you.

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felassan · 3 months

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More from Game Informer: ''A Deep Dive Into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Combat, Abilities, Skill Tree, And More''.

The article contained new screenshots of skill trees - one for Level 30 Warrior Rook, one for Level 30 Mage Rook, one for Level 30 Rogue Rook, and one showing the 'pop up info' for the skill Wall of Fire. Going by these screenshots, the 3 specs for mage Rook are Death Caller, Evoker, and Spellblade. I think this is the first time the three specs for mages are confirmed. I wonder, is "Thorne" this Rook's custom first name, or one of the faction-defined surnames?

Text in last image reads:

"- Large circle: Class - Diamonds: Abilities - Medium circle: Major Passives and Ability Upgrades - Small hexagon: Traits - Small circle: Minor Passives and Stat Boosts"

Other excerpts from the article:

"Every single entry reimagines what combat is like and I would say our goal was to make sure we had a system that allowed players to feel like they actually were able to step into the world of Thedas. They're not a player observing from afar – they are inside of this world. Being this authentic world that's brought to life, the combat system needs to support that, so you are in control of every single action, every block, every dodge, every swing of your sword." [...] "During my demo at one point, we use a sword-and-shield Warrior Qunari that hip-fires and aims their shield to throw it like Captain America while hammering down big damage with a sword" [...] "a Mage's firewall that deals continuous damage" [...] "This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. " [...] "Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like firewall and spartan kicks to your arsenal" [...] "Busche says BioWare's philosophy with the skill tree is "about changing the way you play, not the statistical minutiae."

"If you completely ignore companions in combat, they will attack targets, use abilities, and defeat enemies all on their own. "[Companions] are their own people, "Busche says. "They have their own behaviors, they have their own autonomy on the battlefield, they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle."" [...] "Busche says there are more explicit synergies, with intentional combos where specific companions can play off each other, and you can queue up their abilities to do just that."

"Busche utilizes Veilguard's dual-loadout mechanic. As Rook, you can create two weapon loadouts for quick switch-ups mid-combat. As a mage Rook, she uses magical attacks to add three stacks of arcane build-up to make an Arcane Bomb on a Sentinel, a mechanical set of armor possessed by a demon. If you hit the Sentinel's Arcane Bomb with a heavy attack, the enemy will take devastating damage. Once the Sentinel has an Arcane Bomb on it, Busche begins charging a heavy attack on her magical staff, then switches to magical daggers in Rook's second loadout, accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick light attacks, then back to the staff to finish charging its attack. She then unleashes the heavy attack, and the Arcane Bomb explodes in a liquidy whirl of green magic."

""I've seen [Veilguard's combat] refined over time [and] I love it," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me. "I love that balance of real-time fluid action, but also the ability to have the depth in the RPG, not just in terms of pause-and-play, but the depth in terms of how you bring your companions into the battlefield. What are you going to do with their skill points? What's the loadout you're going to use? Everything is about bringing Rook to the center of the battlefield, and I love it." Former Dragon Age executive producer and Veilguard consultant Mark Darrah feels Veilguard is the first game where the combat is legitimately fun. "What I see in Veilguard is a game that finally bridges the gap," he says. "Uncharitably, previous Dragon Age games got to the realm of 'combat wasn't too bad.' In this game, the combat's actually fun, but it does keep that thread that's always been there. You have the focus on Rook, on your character, but still have that control and character coming into the combat experience from the other people in your party." I get the sense from watching Busche play several hours of Veilguard that BioWare has designed a combat system that relies heavily on players extracting what they want out of it. If you want to button mash and use abilities freely when their cooldowns expire, you can probably progress fine (although on the game's easier difficulties). But if you want to strategize your combos, take advantage of elemental vulnerabilities, and min-max companions and Rook loadouts, you can do that, too, and I think you'll find Veilguard rewards that with a more enriching experience."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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communicationthroughlyrics · 4 months

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I Just Wanna be Yours

Summer in Westview hasn't officially started until the Rogers throw their annual Memorial Day Beach Bonfire. Now the torch was passed to Y/N Rogers, the local playgirl little sister of the boy next door, Steve Rogers. Your reputation preceded you for most, but you really only had your sights on one person.

One Wanda Maximoff.

TW: Daddy kink, smut, orgasm denial if you squint? Lol

A/N: Not proofread- let me know if you find any big errors :] Enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6K

Memorial Day weekend marks a few things for most. A long weekend, the start of summer break, barbecues, parties, and a day of remembrance. For those who attend Westview High? They circle the calendar for another reason- the annual Roger’s Family Party and Bonfire.

Your older brother Steve had restarted the tradition after finding out that your father threw the same party when he was in high school. Steve had been the All-American, the school’s Football and Baseball team captain. He was every girl’s dream high school sweetheart, kind to all, piercing stare paired with his dusky blue eyes, blonde crew-cut hair, and always clad in blue denim jeans with a t-shirt. His athletic build and confident stature paired with his boyish charm were endearing to all who attended high school with him, earning him the nickname "Captain America".

Now, it was you, in your senior year, carrying the torch that leads the who’s who of Westview High filling the Rogers family beach house for a day of barbecue (courtesy of Steve, equipped in nothing but swim trunks and his Grill Sergeant apron), music, booze, and a traditional bonfire on the beach at dusk. You had branched the family image out. You were the athletic, mysterious bad girl. Leather, ripped jeans, band shirts, tattoos, and piercings were more your speed, a stark departure from your brother’s more traditional appearance. You had recently made the switch from your long, charcoal locks to a short, spiky undercut that displayed more of the tattoos creeping up your neck.

Your upbringing was charmed, the typical "busy" American family with parents who were less than present. Your father was a hedge fund manager, your mother a successful lawyer. Both led busy careers that led them all over the country. You hardly saw them as a result, your nanny was more of a parental figure than your own. Steve was the consummate gentleman, while you ‘played the field’, having slept with most of the female population and moved to the neighboring schools. Even in Steve’s shadow, you were able to maintain a large social group, but never, really let anyone in.

That changed your sophomore year when a certain brunette walked in the front doors for her first day of school. Wanda Maximoff and her brother Pietro were star athletes in their own right. Pietro, the tall, silver-haired goofball was a track star from a rival high school, and stud midfielder on the pitch. Wanda, was a quiet, scholarly type, always in the top rankings in women’s golf and tennis. She was always willing to assist others with their academics, her affinity for science and math making her an asset for many. Her stormy, dark appearance kept most at bay, but she did have a tight-knit group of friends you never seemed to be able to penetrate.

You never seemed to be able to corner the green-eyed woman, wanting just a chance to talk, to get to know her. You were sure that her friends had warned her that all you would try to do was add her name as a notch on your bedpost. But this feeling Wanda gave you, whenever she shot you a shy smile or her viridescent eyes found you in class or at a tennis match, the butterflies and sweaty palms feeling, was beyond what you felt with others. She seems oblivious to the flirting thrown her way, many guys and girls trying to pull back her veil of mystery.

“Hey, sis.” Steve came charging down the stairs, clad in only his swim shorts as he made his way to the fridge, grabbing a protein smoothie from the confines of the fridge.

“Morning,” you mumbled through your mouthful of Lucky Charms.

He rolled his eyes at your antics, polishing off his drink before throwing the bottle in the trash. “What time did you tell everyone? I need to start getting the food ready.”

“12 at the earliest. Open house, people can come and go.” You respond.

"And don't forget about the bonfire. It's going to be a good one." He grinned, nodding in the direction of the backyard. "I've got everything set up. Should be ready to go by nightfall."

"How could I forget?" you fire back, shooting him a megawatt smile.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. His smile was contagious, and it was easy to see why everyone liked him. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, but you pushed it aside. You had your own life, your friends. You didn't need to compete with him for attention. He winked at you as he turned away, heading out back to fire up the massive grill on the back patio and get it ready for the multitudes of burgers, steaks, bratwurst, and chicken that were about to be strewn across it.

Your thoughts drifted back to Wanda, and you wondered if she'd show up. You hadn't seen her at school yesterday, but you hoped that maybe she had plans to come. It would be a shame if she didn't make it, but you had your things to do, your people to see. You finished off your breakfast, glancing at the clock that read 10:15 am before grabbing your keys and cell phone and heading out the door to pick up the booze, sodas, and ice you needed for today.

Your car, a shiny black Maserati GranTurismo, started on the first try as you backed out of the driveway and made your way down the quiet residential street. The sun was shining, the sky a brilliant blue, and the air smelled of freshly mown grass and the sweet scent of blooming flowers. You hummed along to the radio as you drove, taking a right at the end of the block and heading towards the local liquor store.

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few other early birds like yourself stocking up on supplies for their parties. You grabbed a cart and wheeled it over to the back of the store where the beer and soda coolers were. You spent the next few minutes selecting just the right mix of beers and sodas, making sure to get a variety of options for everyone. As you approached the front checkout, the cashier gave you a bright smile.

"This must be for the annual Rogers summer break kick-off,” he quipped, grabbing the scan gun and walking around the counter to begin scanning the items on your flatbed cart.

You grinned, a little embarrassed that the liquor store clerk had recognized your family's party. "Yeah, well... it's going to be a good one," you said, trying to play it cool.

He nodded, glancing up at you with a knowing look. "I'm sure it will. And don't worry, I've been to a few of these parties myself. I know how much work it is to make sure everything goes smoothly. Your family does a great job." His smile was genuine, and it made you feel a little less self-conscious about the attention your family's gatherings sometimes got. "Do you need any ice?"

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I'll take 12 bags, please." You added, reaching into your wallet to pay for the booze and sodas. As the cashier rang everything up, you glanced at the clock on the wall. You still had plenty of time to stop by the grocery store and pick up the rest of the food and supplies you needed.

The drive to the grocery store was uneventful, and you managed to get in and out of there with all your items promptly. As you loaded your car up with bags of chips, dips, and other snacks, your mind drifted to Wanda again. You wondered if Wanda would show up today, and hopefully, you would get the chance to talk to her.

When you finally pulled into your driveway and parked the Maserati in its spot, the yard was already filling up with cars and people were starting to mill about. The smell of charcoal smoke wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and music. You had to make multiple trips inside, but luckily your best friends Natasha and Maria were already there and helped you carry everything inside.

You had a couple of large coolers set aside for food, so Steve could keep the waiting items cold, and you could keep the typical sides like potato and macaroni salad chilled while the food was cooked. You had 2 coolers of sodas, and 5 coolers of booze to fill, which Nat and Maria quickly took over because they just wanted to throw ice at each other.

Taking the moment before more people started to arrive, you ran upstairs, getting into your black bikini, and black swim shorts and pulling a black tee shirt over your torso. There was no point in shoes, so you padded back downstairs barefoot, and out to the outdoor bar you would be manning.

As you were setting up the bar, more people began to filter in, and soon there was quite the crown milling in and out of the house. As you began making some drinks for a large group of people, you saw Wanda walk up with a couple of her friends, their laughter ringing through the yard. You couldn't help but smile as you watched her, her long brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and a cover-up over her barely there red bikini. She looked stunning, but little did you know that she would be putting on a show today, and you were the sole reason.

You caught her eye as she was making small talk with her friends, and she smiled back at you before walking over to the bar. "Hey, Wanda," you said with a grin, "Glad you could make it."

She returned the smile. "Thanks, I'm glad I did too. I haven’t been able to make the last couple of Rogers Family parties, and this looks like it's going to be a good time." She glanced around, taking in the crowd of people before leaning in closer to you. You gulp as her breasts push up her bikini top, almost taunting you. "So, what can I get from the bar? You've got quite the selection here."

You chuckled. "Well, you've got a variety of beers in the coolers, the proverbial White Claws and seltzers, some sangria in the far tap, and of course, my signature tropical punch." You nodded toward a tap of punch on the counter. "That's my specialty. It's got a bit of a kick to it, but I've had plenty of people tell me they like it." You winked at her, hoping she would take the hint.

Wanda considered your offer for a moment, her eyes lingering on the punch tap. "You know, I think I'll try that. I've never had your punch before, but it sounds delicious." She flashed you a dazzling smile, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest at the compliment. "Thanks, Y/N." You grabbed her cup, poured her a cupful, and slipped some fruit slices into her drink.

"There you go, Wanda," you turn, flashing a charming smile her way before sliding her drink over. "Have fun at the party." You wink again before turning to make some drinks for the group at the other end of the bar. You pretend to not notice the blush creep over her chest and face before she turns and saunters away, making sure to sway her hips to garner your attention.

As the day goes on, the party gets going. People are dancing, laughing, and enjoying themselves. You can't help but steal glances at Wanda now and then, watching as she lets loose and has a good time. She's enjoying your signature punch, and you're glad to see that it's helping her have a good time. Natasha took over for you after a couple of hours at the bar, and you found yourself poolside, laying on a lounge chair talking to one of your teammates from the softball team. Carol nodded at something over your shoulder, causing you to turn and almost spit out your drink.

Wanda was now walking towards you, throwing a towel down on a lounger a few spots from you. She sent you a shy smile, before turning her back and pulling the cover-up off her body. Your mouth went dry as you raked your eyes over her body, her milky-toned thighs and athletic body driving you insane. This is when you were glad for your dark sunglasses, as she bent over, straightening her towel on her chair. You were sure you were flush, as it took all of your willpower to pull your eyes off of her.

Carol smirked at you, slapping your shoulder as Wanda dove into the deep end of the pool.

"Looks like she's enjoying herself," your teammate chuckled.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, she is." You glanced back at Wanda as she floated on her back in the pool, her long brown hair spread out around her. The water seemed to cling to her skin, revealing every curve of her body. You couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal as the water continued to bead off her body as she swam around, talking to people who were also meandering in the pool.

You looked back at your teammate, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I didn't realize she was this... attractive." You stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I mean, she's always been pretty, but... I dunno."

Carol almost choked on her drink, before looking at you bewildered. "Bullshit, Y/N. You've had a huge crush on her since she started at Westview."

You blushed even deeper at your teammate's words. You couldn't believe you hadn't realized it before. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just... I've never really thought about her like that." You stammered, not wanting to admit your true feelings.

"Well, maybe it's time you did." Carol grinned, nudging you with her shoulder. "She's single, you're single. You two would be perfect together. And judging by the way she looks at you, I think you may have a better chance than you realize."

You shook your head, feeling even more flustered. "I-I don't know, Carol. She's drunk, she’s just being flirty. She’s made it clear since she started at school that she wasn't interested."

Carol sighed, shaking her head. "Y/N, think about it. Have you ever seen her date someone at school?"

"No...I haven't."

"Exactly." Your friend rolled her eyes. "Well, you should probably make a move before someone else does. She's been single for a while, and I think she deserves someone who appreciates her." She paused, looking over at Wanda, who was currently laughing with some of her friends. "And I think you're the perfect girl for the job. And my god, does she need to be appreciated." she smiles, nodding in Wanda’s direction, causing you to look over and see her on Pietro’s shoulders, playing a game of chicken against Steve, who had Peggy on his shoulders.

You watched as she fought to knock Peggy off Steve's shoulders, her muscles flexing, her intoxicating laughter as the pair fought for bragging rights. Both women soon fell off their partner’s shoulders in tandem, a loud shriek coming from each of them.

Wanda swam to the end of the pool by your chair, pulling herself out, and giving you an up-close view of the water dripping down her body before she made her way over to the lounger that was a few down from you. Your gaze drifted over her body again, before realizing she was watching you watch her.

Her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat, trying to play it cool. "So, Y/N," she started, her voice slightly deep from the exhaustion of being in the pool, "I heard you're good at beach volleyball."

You looked over at her, not sure if she was just being friendly or if there was something more to it. You smiled, deciding to go along with it. "Well, I've been playing for a while. It's not that special, though."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she took a seat on the lounger beside you. "Oh, please. Everyone here says that, but you're really good. I've seen you play volleyball at school a few times now. You're one of the best."

You blushed, looking away from her. "Oh, I dunno about that. There's a lot of other good players too."

She chuckled, leaning in closer to you. "Well, a group of people were gonna start a match down on the beach. Care to join us?"

You hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Carol and the others. They were all busy talking and laughing with each other, and you didn't want to leave your friend alone. But the thought of spending more time with Wanda was too tempting to resist. "Sure," you finally said, standing up. "I'll meet you down there." You winked her way before going up to grab another drink.

As you made your way down to the beach, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You hadn't talked to Wanda like this before, outside of the occasional hello or passing comment in class. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized how much you enjoyed her company. She had a way of making you feel comfortable and at ease, even when you were around a group of people.

When you finally reached the beach, you saw Wanda standing near a group of people who were already gathering, clad in their swimwear as another crown began to flank the sides of the makeshift court to watch. She smiled brightly when she saw you approach, and her cheeks flushed slightly as she turned away to hide it. You smirked, setting the small cooler with water and Gatorades off to the side, swapping out your aviator sunglasses for the sports ones you wore out on the water.

You couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching as you played with a volleyball in your hands as you awaited the rest of the people who would be playing. Steve was carrying down a speaker so you had music to play to. Turning ever so slightly, you saw Wanda’s gaze locked on you, rather, your hands, as you threw the ball up and down. Deciding it was time to tease her a little bit back, you threw the ball to the ground and decided it was time to lose the Van Halen tee shirt.

She blushed even harder when she realized what you had done, but she quickly regained her composure, calling out for everyone's attention. "Alright, alright, let's get this game started!" she shouted, clapping her hands together. You pretend to not notice how she bit her lip when your abs made their debut, your tattoo down your side and back on full display.

The game started well, with everyone splitting up into teams. You found yourself on the same team as Wanda, and you couldn't help but feel a little cocky. Having her on your side was the perfect way to bump her around a little bit, to get close to her.

As the game progressed, you and Wanda worked well together, communicating seamlessly and reading each other's movements like a well-oiled machine. Your team began to dominate, and the other players started to take notice. Carol shot you a warning look, but you ignored it, focusing on the game and the girl beside you.

"Alright!" Carol stopped the game, calling an audible. "Nat and Wanda, switch!" she yelled, causing the two teams to moan.

You and Wanda exchanged a look before she shrugged and jogged under the net to switch sides, putting you across from each other. As you took your place on the court, you couldn't help but feel a little bit of nervous excitement. It was one thing to be teammates, but something else entirely to be opponents. You both smiled at each other, the tension between you seeming to grow in the air.

You shot her a sly smile, winking before Nat served the ball over the net.

You both watched the ball as it sailed through the air and then you moved into position, bending your knees as you readied yourself to spike it. The ball came down, and with a powerful swing of your arm, you sent it hurtling toward Wanda's side of the court. She jumped up, meeting the ball at the height of her reach, her fingers just managing to touch it before sending it flying back over the net. The two of you continued to volley back and forth, your movements becoming more fluid and in sync with each other.

The game progressed, and the other players began to fade into the background as you found yourself locked in a battle of wills against Wanda. Every time you sent the ball her way, she seemed to be waiting for it, her reactions sharper than ever. You couldn't help but wonder how much of this was due to the competition between you, and how much was simply her natural talent. Either way, it made for an intense match.

As the tension grew, you saw your opportunity. Wanda had just hit the ball high into the air, and you knew she would have a hard time reaching it. You took a step back, bending your knees, and then exploded forward, leaping into the air. Your hands connected with the ball, sending it flying toward her with all your might. But instead of aiming it at her side of the court, you spike it right at her feet.

"Fuck!" Wanda yells as Carol shoots you a warning glare. You fire a cocky smile back their way, before heading off the court.

She looks furious as you return to the sidelines, her face flushed and her breath coming in ragged gasps. You can't help but feel a little thrill at the power you have over her in this moment. You want nothing more than to see her lose control, to give in to her anger and frustration.

As you watch her compose herself, you can't help but admire her determination. Despite her best efforts to remain calm, you can see the fire in her eyes, the passion that drives her. It's a strange mixture of attraction and intimidation, and you find yourself drawn to it in a way you can't quite explain.

The next game starts, and you and Wanda are once again on opposing teams. This time, though, there's an undercurrent of tension that runs between you. Every time you make a move, she's there, anticipating it, blocking it with ease. It's almost as if she's reading your mind, knowing exactly what you're going to do before you even do it.

Finally, after multiple set matches, your team won the best of 7. Deciding that now was the time to get more to drink, you left the volleyball game in your brother’s capable hands as the guys began to play. You scooped up your shirt and towel, using the shirt to wipe some of the sand and sweat from your body. Now was the perfect time for a dip in the pool.

"Hey, wait up!" Wanda called after you, quickly catching up to your side. "You looked good out there," she admitted, her voice a little less sharp, but laced with a little bit more innuendo than it had been before. "I didn't expect you to be so... competitive."

You smiled over at her, feeling the heat of her gaze on your skin. "I've always been a bit of a natural athlete," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Besides, it's not like I don’t play sports at school or anything, Wanda."

She pursed her lips, considering this for a moment. "Yeah, but you never really seem so competitive in school," she said, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "It's... nice to see another side of you." There was an almost wistful quality to her voice that you couldn't quite place.

You shrugged, not sure what to make of her reaction. "Well, I'm just a complex lady, you know? You never can tell what you're going to get with me." You flashed her a cocky grin, trying to lighten the mood. You had reached the pool at this point, so you threw your shirt and towel onto the closest empty chair. "I need to cool off." you smile at her, nodding to the pool.

Wanda smiled back, following your lead. "Yeah, it is pretty hot out here." She hesitated for a moment, then looked around at who was at the pool. As she looked around, you took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to sneak behind her, giving her a gentle push into the deep end of the pool. She let out a shrill shriek as she fell into the crisp water. You jumped in shortly after, wiping the water from your eyes as you surfaced.

"That was cold!" she exclaimed, splashing you playfully. "You asshole." You smiled and swam closer to her, grabbing her around the waist. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She struggled against you for a moment, but eventually gave in, relaxing in your grasp. You couldn’t help but feel the butterflies at the skin-on-skin contact, the electricity was palpable. You quickly realized the position you both were in and let Wanda go. She sent you a captivating smile before swimming over to some people who were calling her name. You pulled yourself out of the pool, drying yourself off before heading up to where Steve's best friend Bucky was manning the grill.

"Hey man, what's for lunch?" You asked as you approached him. He grinned, flipping a burger on the grill. "Well, if it isn't the champ herself! You guys just get done playing?"

You nodded, stretching your arms over your head. "Yeah, just now. Tough match." He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "But enough about that. I was asking what's on the menu. You got anything I can help with?"

Bucky smiled, handing you a pair of tongs. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I could use some help with these burgers. But as for the menu, we've got burgers, dogs, and some of that potato salad you brought. Oh, and don't forget the chips and salsa." You took the tongs gratefully, picking up a patty and flipping it over on the grill. The smell of sizzling meat filled the air, making your stomach rumble.

"Sounds good to me," you replied, watching the burger cook. "And thanks for having me, man. This party is shaping up to be a real blast." Bucky smiled, and you nodded his way. You glanced over at Wanda, who was still talking to some of her friends, then back at Bucky.

"Of course, Buck. You're always welcome here, you know. Mom and Dad love you." you smile as he slips a burger onto your dressed bun, and you flip its lid over onto the meat.

The sun beats down on the grass as you take a bite of your burger, feeling the juices dribble down your chin. Wanda finally finishes talking to her friends and makes her way over to you, a towel wrapped around her hips.

"Hey," she says with a smile, "this is quite the party, Y/N. Thanks for putting it on."

"You're welcome, Wands. I'm glad you’re having a good time."

"Could you do me a favor, Y/N?" she asked shyly. You looked at her, a bit taken aback by the sudden request. "Of course, Wanda. What do you need?"

She bit her lip, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Well, I was wondering if you could maybe help me with something." You nodded, waiting for her to continue. She held out a bottle of sunscreen, a flush on her features.

"I, uh... forgot to put some on earlier. And now I'm kinda burnt, and it's starting to sting. Do you think you could...?" She trailed off, looking up at you with those big, green eyes.

You couldn't help but smile at her. "Of course, Wanda. Let's go find a spot where we can sit down and take care of that." You lead her over to a nearby table and pull out a couple of chairs. As she sits down, you kneel in front of her and unwrap the towel, revealing her bare hips. Her skin is indeed a light shade of pink, so putting the sunscreen on now would save her a world of hurt later.

"Okay, just lay back and relax, I'll take care of you." You say, as you gently push her back into the chair. She lets out a soft sigh and tilts her head back, exposing her neck and shoulders. You take the bottle of sunscreen from her and unscrew the cap, then begin to rub a generous amount into her skin. You start at her lower back and work your way up, massaging the lotion into her flesh as you go. You pretend not to notice the goosebumps that erupt in the wake of your hands as you rub the lotion into her skin.

As you work your way up her back, you can't help but take in the softness of her skin, the way it feels beneath your fingertips. Her shoulder blades are sharp and defined, and you find yourself tracing them with your fingers, wondering what it would be like to touch her like this under different circumstances. You snap back to reality as you finish rubbing the sunscreen into her shoulders, feeling a bit guilty for letting your mind wander.

"There you go," you say, sitting back on your heels. "All done." Wanda sits up and turns to face you, blushing a deep shade of red. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it." She looks down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I guess I should meet up with Agatha and Peggy down at the beach now." She bites her lip, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. She sends you a shy wave before getting up and running to her friends on the beach, jumping onto one of their backs. You continue to watch her from afar as you finish your food.

"Hey, Bucky. You wanna toss the frisbee around with me for a bit?" You ask your friend, trying to distract yourself from the strange feeling in your chest. Bucky nods and stands up, grabbing the frisbee from the table. The two of you make your way over to the beach, joining a group of other guys as you all start tossing the frisbee back and forth. The sun begins to set, painting the sky in a warm, orange glow. You feel your muscles loosen up and your mind begins to wander. A chill begins to set in as Steve gets ready to light the bonfire, and you are sure that a large group of people have left for the day. You glance around, disappointed when you don’t see Wanda. You decide to make your way into the house, heading upstairs to your massive bedroom, so you could change into some sweatpants and a hoodie.

As you're changing, you decide to take a quick shower, washing off the day's sweat and sand. The hot water feels good on your skin, but you can't help but feel a little off. You step out of the shower, drying off quickly and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. As you're about to step out of your bathroom, you are shocked when you walk into your room and see Wanda on your bed.

"Wanda?" You ask, confused. She looks up at you, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes glistening with mischief. "What are you doing here?"

She grins and shrugs her shoulders. "I-I just wanted to see you." Her voice is soft and hesitant, but there's a newfound confidence in her eyes that you haven't seen before. "I mean... I had fun today, and I didn't want to go home yet. All my friends have already gone home, so I went looking for you."

You're taken aback by her admission. You weren't expecting this at all. "Oh... well, uh... I'm glad you had fun. You can stay if you want." You gesture towards your bed, feeling a bit awkward now. You stand there, shocked at who is currently on your mattress. This is the first time you are unsure of what to do, or to say with an insanely attractive woman in your bed.

Wanda grins and climbs over to the other side of the bed, plopping down on the pillow. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it." She looks around the room, taking in the band posters and trinkets, her eyes landing on your guitar. "So... what do you usually do when you're bored?"

You chuckle and sit down next to her on the bed. "Well, I play guitar sometimes. Or I'll watch a movie, or just hang out with my friends,” you smirk, walking over to the chair by your desk and sitting down backward on it. "But those are just fillers for my favorite pastime."

Wanda tilts her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Oh? What's that?"

You grin, feeling a thrill run through you at the thought of what's next. She fell right into your trap if you want to call it that.

"Well, Wanda..." you eye her up and down, a slight smirk on your face. "I'm hoping it's going to be you."

She blushes deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. There's a newfound fire in her eyes that makes your heart race. “That's quite the line, Y/N," she smirks back. "What makes you think I'm like the other girls who have fallen into your bed?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, I don't think you're like them. I mean, I've seen how you are with people. You're sweet and funny, and..." you trail off, looking her up and down once more. "...and you're gorgeous." You stalk over to her, placing your knee in between her legs, and leaning close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. "But most of all, I think you're honest. And that's something I appreciate. You're not like the others."

She bites her bottom lip, looking into your eyes as she nods slowly. "And what if I wanted to be?" she whispers, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Well, that would be a shame, Maximoff." you start, as her gaze darts back and forth between your eyes.

"Oh?" she asks, inching closer to you, her lip trapped in between her teeth.

"Yeah. That’s what I like about you. You aren't like anyone else."

You lean in slowly, feeling the warmth of her breath mingle with yours as your lips meet hers. Wanda's mouth is soft and yielding, her tongue dancing against yours in a rhythm that sends shivers down your spine. Her hands slide up your chest, over your shoulders, and around your neck, pulling you closer still.

She moans softly into the kiss, arching her back off the bed and grinding her hips against you. You can feel the heat between your legs, and you're aching to touch her, to feel her skin against yours. Your hands wander down her back, over the curve of her ass, and up underneath her shirt. You can feel the soft skin of her stomach, the warmth of her breasts pressed against your palms.

Her hands slip under your shirt, feeling the muscles in your back, before moving up to cup your neck, her thumbs brushing against your jaw. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you deepen the kiss, wanting more. Wanda's tongue darts out, teasing your lips before delving back in, their rhythm growing faster and more intense. The tandem you made out on the volleyball court seemed to carry over to the bedroom, as you both responded to each other’s bodies.

When you both needed to come up for air, you pulled away, resting your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting a while to do that," you whispered, staring at her kiss-swollen lips.

Wanda smiled, tracing a finger along your jaw. "I'm glad you finally did." She leaned in, pressing her lips against yours again, their heat melding together. Her tongue darted out, exploring your mouth as your hands tangled in her hair, holding her close.

The passion between you was palpable, and you could feel it building with each passing second. Her body was pressed tightly against yours, her hips grinding against your erection as she moved in time with your kiss. Your heart raced, and your blood pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else. You had all but forgotten the party downstairs as you pushed Wanda's bikini-clad body further onto your bed.

The arousal was obvious as you caught a glimpse of the darker spot on her bikini bottom, and the glimmer that coated the inside of her creamy thighs. You groaned as you hovered over her, trapping her beneath your body weight.

"Oh, I like you like this," you breathed, as she arched her back upwards, pressing her chest against yours.

She tugged at your hoodie as her blown pupils found yours. "For someone who has been waiting for this for so long, you sure do have a lot of clothes on."

Your heart skipped a beat as her words sent a thrill through you. You leaned down, kissing her neck, and her collarbone, before moving back up to capture her lips once more. The taste of her, the feel of her skin, was intoxicating. You could feel the heat between your legs, and the need to be inside her growing more urgent with every passing second.

With a groan, you peeled off your hoodie, and then your bra, tossing them to the floor before pushing her bikini bottoms down her hips, revealing her smooth, toned legs. She gasped as you parted her legs, laying yourself between them. You ground your hip upwards into hers, allowing her to feel the strap-on that was hidden under your sweatpants.

Her eyes went wide, and she arched her back off the bed, her hands clawing at your shoulders. "You've got a strap-on?" she breathed. You laughed, pecking at the side of her neck, up to her ear.

"Daddy is always packing, baby," you whisper in her ear, licking the shell.

Wanda shudders, her breath catching in her throat. She reaches down between your bodies, feeling the thick length of the strap-on, her fingers wrapping around the base. "Oh, God," she moans, grasping at the waistband of your sweats, trying to get them off as quickly as she could in her state.

Her movements only serve to further arouse you, and you lean in, nipping at her collarbone as you watch her fingers fumble with your clothes. You help her out, yanking your sweats down your legs, revealing the hard cock beneath. She gasps, her eyes going wide with desire as she takes in the sight of you.

"Fuck, Y/N," she breathes as you push her thighs further apart and position yourself between her legs. You grasp the base of the strap-on, guiding it to her entrance, you can practically feel the heat and wetness of her waiting for you. She arches her back, lifting her hips off the bed, practically begging you to enter her. With a groan, you push forward, watching the head of your cock slip inside her.

Her muscles grip you tightly, her walls milking you as you begin to thrust slowly, feeling her body stretch to accommodate your size. You look down at her, at the way her eyes are closed and her lips parted, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. You reach down between them, teasing her clit with your thumb, feeling her tense and shudder beneath you.

"Fuck, Y/N," she moans, arching her back and meeting your thrusts with her own. "So big... so good..." Her fingernails scrape down your back, leaving trails of pleasure-tinged pain as you continue to pound into her. She's so wet, so ready for you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the sensation of her greedy pussy swallowing the toy before you, her vanilla perfume mixed with sweat and the smell of the sunscreen you applied earlier invading your senses, and her whimpering, whiny sounds as you mercilessly thrust the dildo into her.

Her hips rise off the bed, her breasts heaving as she pushes herself up towards you, her expression a mix of ecstasy and agony. You can feel the tension building inside her, the telltale tightening of her muscles as she nears her peak. You slow your thrusts, savoring the feel of her body moving against yours, her body milking the cock attached to your hips with each slow, deliberate push.

"Ask for permission to cum, baby." you kiss the valley between her supple breasts, her hands running through your hair.

"Y-yes, Daddy," she stammers, her hips undulating against yours, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. "I want to cum so badly..."

"Aww, baby," you tweak her nipple between your fingers, causing her to clamp her eyes shut and a pornographic moan to come from her. "You can do better than that for Daddy."

Her breath comes out in ragged gasps as you continue your slow, steady rhythm, your hips moving in perfect synchronization with hers. Her hands grasp at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she fights to keep herself grounded. "I'm close, Daddy," she whimpers, her body starting to tremble beneath yours. "Please..."

"Please, what?"

Wanda's eyes snap open, her pupils dilated as she looks up at you with a pleading expression. "Please let me cum, Daddy. Please let me feel you inside me." Her voice is ragged, her body shaking with the effort of holding back. You can feel her muscles tense and release, her pussy clenching, her breath hot against your skin.

You look down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and the way her breasts heave with each ragged breath. "You're doing so good, baby," you whisper. "Just a little bit longer for me, okay?"

Her eyes closed, her head falling back against the pillow in submission. "Please Daddy," she whimpers, her body arching upward in surrender. She holding on to everything she has, you can tell she is fighting for her release.

"Fucking beg, Wanda. Let me know how close you are."

Her eyes snap open, her pupils dilated, and her expression a mix of pain and ecstasy. "I'm so close, Daddy! I need you to make me cum! Please, Daddy, let me cum!" she whimpers and moans, burying her face into your neck as her nails rake down your back, leaving trails of fire behind them.

Her hips buck up against yours, her inner muscles gripping you tightly, her body tense with the effort of holding back. Her breath comes out in short, ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each one. You can feel the tension building inside her, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter.

"Let go for me beautiful, let me see how I make you feel."

You watch as Wanda's eyes close, her head falling back against the pillow, her lips parting as she takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Her body tenses, every muscle in her abdomen tensing as she lets go. Her fingernails dig into your back, her hips undulating against yours, stuttering as her orgasm rips through her body.

"Oh, Y/N!" she screams, her voice muffled by your shoulder. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" Her inner muscles squeeze you tightly, her pussy milking your fake cock as her pleasure washes over her in waves. Her body arches upward, her breasts spilling from your grasp, her nipples hard and aching for your touch. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you with a mixture of shock and ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," you whisper, your voice rough with desire. "Let it all out for me." Her hips buck wildly against yours, her nails raking down your back, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tries to catch her breath. Her orgasm seems to go on forever, her body shuddering with pleasure as she clings to you, her lips parting in a silent moan.

Her pussy grips you tightly, her inner walls fluttering around your fake cock as she comes down from her peak. You watch in awe as her features soften, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing begins to steady. Her body is still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, her nipples hard and aching for your touch. You brush your fingers over them, circling and teasing as you continue to thrust slowly inside her.

"That's it, baby. Just relax and enjoy." You whisper, your voice gentle and soothing. Her body responds to your touch, her hips moving in time with yours as she leans into the sensation. Her eyes open lazily, meeting yours with a look of contentment and gratitude.

"Oh...my...god, Y/N," she started, her breathy, husky voice making you swoon. Her body trembled beneath yours as she reveled in the afterglow of her orgasm. Her pussy clenched tightly around your fake cock, her inner walls milking you with each gentle thrust. Her eyes were half-lidded, gazing up at you with a look of pure adoration and desire. Her eyes widened as you lowered yourself down her body, the realization of what you were about to do hitting her. "Y/N, honey I don't think I can..."

"Shhhh, Wands, I've got you. Don't think. You have one more for me, I know you do."

Your words seem to have the desired effect as her body tenses, her breath catches in her throat. Her eyes closed, her expression one of concentration and determination. You gently blow a burst of air to her sodden sex, before nudging her perky clit with your nose.

"Oh fuck, Daddy!" she groans, arching her back as her hips buck wildly against your face. Her hands grab fistfuls of your hair, urging you closer, wanting more. Her inner muscles clench and release around nothing as you kiss around her lower lips. Once you dive into her, you plunge two fingers into her as you lick at her swollen clit. You alternate between lapping at her juices, sucking on her swollen clit, and twisting your fingers around to hit the spongy spot inside her, determined to make her cum harder than ever before.

Her legs tremble beneath her, her toes curl as her orgasm builds quickly. She cries out your name, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her body quakes as she holds her orgasm back. You can feel her pussy clenching tightly around your fingers and tongue as her inner walls spasm uncontrollably, her muscles relaxing and tensing in perfect rhythm with your ministrations.

Finally, with a long, drawn-out moan, she arches her back, her hands gripping your hair, her hips bucking wildly against your face. Her orgasm ripples through her, shuddering through her body as her inner muscles squeeze and release around you. Her juices coat your tongue and flow down your throat as you drink in her ecstasy. Her legs tremble, her breath comes in ragged gasps, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs locked you between them, and you swore that you could die then and there, and be happy.

Slowly, you pull back, watching her eyes as they refocus on you. She looks dazed, her lips swollen from your kisses and her cheeks flushed from her exertions. She reaches out, trailing her fingers down your chest, over your abs and lower, until she cups your sex that was surely dripping down your thighs. You had dreamt of this moment, of when Wanda Maximoff would end up here, and now, you wanted nothing more than to keep her here forever.

You fell next to her, a sweaty and panting mess, as she rolled over on top of you. "I am so glad I showered," you laugh, looking into her adoring eyes.

"Must be nice," she laughed, as your eyes drifted over her body once more, her breasts hanging before you as she hovered over your body. She sat back, resting on your lower abdomen, shrieking as the dildo still attached to your hips poked her ass.

"Well, now I think I need another," you laugh as you prop yourself up, pecking at her lips as her arms wrapped behind your neck.

"Yeah you do, Y/N," she smiled her million-dollar smile. "But, this time I think you should invite someone to join you."

You raise your eyebrow, gazing into the pools of sea green before you. "Oh really? Maybe I'll invite Nat. She said she needed her monthly shower."

Wanda giggles, shaking her head. "You're an ass, Y/N."

You feign offense, gasping as you rest a hand on your chest. "Wanda! Is that what you think of me?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "No, idiot. You should invite someone else. Like me. I could use a shower." she leans forward, tracing her finger between your breasts before looking back up at you, her lip caught in her teeth again.

"You keep doing that, Wanda, you're going to lose your lip," you pull it out from her teeth, before leaning in and kissing her gently and passionately. Your hands slid to her back, pulling her closer to you. She moaned into the kiss, grinding herself down onto your lap, causing you to moan when she pushed the toy into you. You shuffled her and yourself over to the edge of the bed, without breaking the kiss.

As your lips finally parted, you gazed into her eyes, seeing the lust and desire there, and knew that she wanted this as much as you did. "Well, if you insist, darling," you grinned, leaning in and taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking on it roughly. Her back arched, a quiet moan escaping her throat. "But I'm going to need you to be good."

She smiled down at you, her hands running through her hair, flinging it to one side. "Oh, Y/N," she sighed, "I'm always good." With that, she lowered herself down, taking the dildo back into her warmth, moaning at the intrusion. You groaned at the sight, watching as she began to rock her hips back and forth.

Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard and pebbled. She leaned forward, her hands on either side of your head, her hips moving faster as she began to ride you. Her skin was hot against yours, and the scent of her arousal filled the air.

"Fuck, Wanda," you rolled your head back at the feeling of her rocking against you, but her hands ran up the back of your neck and into your hair, guiding you back to her.

"C'mon, Daddy. Take me to the shower," she smirked, knowing that this was going to be a challenge. You firmly grasped her ass, stilling her motions as you lifted her till the toy was almost fully removed, before slamming her back down onto it. You smirk at the moan that left her, as you wrapped her legs around you, standing up to walk to the bathroom.

The cool air of the bathroom hits you both as you make your way to the shower, Wanda's nails dragging down your back as she holds on tight. You can feel her dripping down the front of you, her arousal making a mess of you. You step into your shower, slamming her against the wall and thrusting into her.

She gasps, her head thrown back as you take her roughly. Her hands slide up your chest, over your shoulders, and into your hair, tugging you down so that you're looking her in the eye. She leans forward, their lips just inches apart, her breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to come, Y/N," she whispers, her hips bucking against you.

"Fuck, Wanda," you gasp as you roughly fuck her against the cool tile wall. "You drive me insane."

She whimpers, arching her back as she comes, her legs wrapping tighter around you, her nails digging into your shoulders. Her inner walls clench around you, milking your cock, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Her lips part, and she gasps, her breath ragged as she tries to catch it. Her eyes close, her head thrown back against the wall as she comes down from her orgasm.

"Fuck," you groan, thrusting one final time into her, your release taking over. You grip her ass, feeling her walls clench around the toy as your orgasm drips down your thighs.

She sighs, her body still pressed against yours as she comes down from her high. You lean against the wall, watching her as she runs her hands through her hair, looking somewhat dazed.

"Well," you say with a smile, "That wasn't how I anticipated today going," You reach over and turn on the shower, letting the water wash over your bodies, helping to cool you down.

You can feel Wanda leaning against you, her breath still ragged from their exertions. "Yeah," she says softly, "I think... I think we both needed that." She presses her body closer to yours, their skin slick with sweat and sex.

You let the water rinse away the sweat and your cum, the heat from the spray adding another layer of sensation to your already overloaded senses. You idly run your fingers through the water, tracing patterns on her back, feeling the play of muscle beneath your touch.

Wanda leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her tongue darting out to greet yours, her hands slipping beneath the water to cup your ass. You moan into her mouth, feeling her strength and her desire pressing against you, the wet heat of her body. She breaks the kiss, breathlessly, her chest heaving as she looks into your eyes.

"I think we need to get down to the bonfire before Steve or Pietro come looking for us," Wanda laughs.

"You think they'd care?" you ask with a grin, as you step out of the shower and help her dry off.

Wanda laughs, shaking her head. "Probably not. But we don't want to give them an excuse to tease us, do we?" She winks, slipping on one of your loose tank tops and a pair of sweatpants. You nod in agreement, pulling on a clean pair of sweatpants and your hoodie.

"Y/N?"

You turn to face Wanda, who is leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, her expression a mix of mischief and concern. Her hair is still damp from their shower, and you can't help but smile as you take in her beauty. You swoon at the sight of her damp hair and her wearing your clothes.

"What's wrong, Max?"

Her expression softens at your use of her nickname. "Nothing, just... I don't want to go back out there and pretend that nothing happened, you know? I just want to stay with you."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Me too."

Taking her hand, you lead her back out through the house, watching the shocked gazes of those who remain. You wind through the sea of people, walking down the timber steps and out to the beach. The bonfire crackles and spits, casting flickering shadows across the group of people gathered around it. You can see Steve and Pietro laughing together, sharing a drink. They look up as you approach, their expressions changing from amusement to surprise as they see Wanda's damp hair, and her wearing your clothes.

"You two been having fun?" Steve asks, the humor lacing his voice.

Wanda laughs, shrugging. "You know, just us." She leans into you, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrap an arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body through your thin sweatshirt.

Steve grins. "Well, you two should get back out there. I'm sure there's plenty of people who'd love to party with you." He winks, and you can't help but chuckle. Pietro sends you a warning glare.

"Y/N, if you hurt her, I swear..." he growls, as Wanda blushes before burying her face in your chest.

You laugh, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Don't worry, Pietro." As you say this, you glance down at Wanda, feeling a pang in your chest at the thought of her being hurt. It's been so long since you've felt this way about someone. You've been alone for so long, just surviving day by day, that the idea of losing her... it terrifies you. "I may have a reputation," you continue. "but Wanda is the last one that I would do that to."

Wanda looks up at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She grabs your hand, squeezing it. "Thank you, Y/N." Her voice is barely a whisper.

Pietro nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Alright, you two. Have fun." He slaps your shoulder, then takes another beer from the cooler before heading back into the crowd.

You lead Wanda back towards the fire, feeling the warmth of it on your skin. She leans into you, her body pressed against yours as if she's afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close. The music starts up again, and the party seems to find its rhythm once more.

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #lesbian nsft #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x fem!reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen

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diejager · 1 year

Text

Only Human

Pairing : Monster Task Force 141 x reader

Cw : canon-typical violence, bodies, death, blood, cannibalism?, wounds, trauma.

Wc : 3.2k

Note: the designs for the Monster 141 came from @bluegiragi

Only Human masterlist

When Laswell, a known figure in the Intel gathering ranks of the CIA and military, had called you for your new transfer, you were ecstatic about it. You showed up casually, still in your vest and whole attire from your deployment, you were told that Laswell was waiting for you in her office once you took your first step. You only had time to drop off your weapons in the armory before going straight to her office.

You were personally asked to join a Task Force, not another squad or team under a Captain, which you hadn't expected; an international Task Force to boot, it shocked you, even more, to have been asked to have you on a Task Force that spanned nations wide. The radar must've been wide for it to be an international one, important and specialized soldiers were probably the ones who were invited - green berets, if you guessed.

You were excited, though, to have the honour of joining specialized soldiers with only being a corporal.

"Which Task Force, ma'am?" you asked, back straight with your hands crossed behind your back.

"The 141, Hunter."

Your composure almost slipped, your mind buzzed with excitement and confusion at the notice. The 141 was a reputed group, having members from the United Kingdom to the Americas and allies in the south, around Urzikstan, and perhaps farther. They took down Major Hassan, killing the heart of Al-Qatala and weeding out traitors like General Sheperd and Graves' PMC, the Shadows. A closed group with secrets only they knew and would take to the grave, a tight-knit Task Force.

You've heard of some members, none being human. The Ghost - or Ghost - a wraith hybrid of some sort, as dangerous as he was respectable. He was the better known one, a popular topic from one's lips to the other, gossip and rumors about him being more monster than human. While some were harmless, others were made to be racists - or xenophobic in some rarer cases - most were gossip, exaggerated depictions of the man people feared and admired.

You were jumping under your skin for the day to pass faster, for your transfer to happen more quickly. You couldn't wait to meet your new teammates, you've heard good and bad things about them. Some were sociable, others shy or downright menacing to look and interact with (perhaps they specifically meant Ghost).

You've always wanted to work with monsters, the majority of the military was made up of human men and women with a low, low (around 5%) being monsters, creatures of the night that made them stronger, faster, and better than humans, but they were often hunted until the last decades.

You, however, expected that half of the Task Force was made up of humans, and the rest monsters. You were wrong, really wrong. The moment you stepped out, you realized how unfortunate - maybe fortunate to be stuck with broad, strong, and handsome men - you were to be the sole human. Perhaps it was the shock or the honour that made you freeze and shy away, but neither of them could make you feel as prepared as you should be for officially joining them.

"Welcome to the Task Force, Hunter!" Price yelled over the beating blades of the helicopter, blue eyes staring at you with a - sinful, you found it sinfully handsome - smile hidden under his beard. He also had a green tail that followed behind him, a long, strong tail, you mustn't forget that.

The first ones you talked to were Soap and Rudolfo, two jokesters within the group. Soap was cute, having almost a puppy-like excitement at meeting you with the way he greeted you, smiling and laughing boisterously. He was loud and warm when you first talked to him.

Rodolfo, or Rudy as he told you to call him (you stuck with Rodolfo, feeling too intrusive to call him by his lovely nickname), was Mexican, a special forces, just like everyone else in the TF. He was as warm as the Mexican sun, funny, and soft-spoken.

They had an accent, one a light Mexican and the other a deep Scottish slur in his words. Rudolfo incorporated Spanish words in his sentences, easily understood but adorable nonetheless. Soap's Scottish accent was thicker, deep with his jargon that you sometimes questioned if he was even speaking English.

You only found out that they were monsters when they were training outside. You watched Soap turn from under the shades, eyes keen on his rippling muscles and cracking bones. His jaw shifted, it grew longer and his ears pointed up, light brown fur sprouted from his skin and his mohawk traveled farther, turning into a mane. You could hear the whines and grunts from his transformation.

A werewolf, you learned. He had enhanced strength. He became more durable and agile. He had accelerated healing, almost ten times the speed of regular men, and his senses seemed to have heightened significantly. It looked painful, you concluded so from the bodily sounds and his moans. The heat he exhumed was searing hot, it turned the air around him into mist, burning the water in the air and turning it into gas.

Soap had heard you gasp and awe at his form, broader and taller, he towered over you when he stood on his hind legs. His eyes glowed a vibrant blue when they met yours, waiting and gauging your reaction, but he could only see awe and admiration, perhaps a dash of excitement beneath your gaping expression.

He padded towards you, lurching forward and sending you tumbling on your back as his tongue lolled to the side and hung from his panting maw. His shoulders shook, abdomen flexing rapidly, it looked like he was laughing. At your reaction, or you, you didn't know, all you had in kind wa the urge to touch him. He looked so soft.

It was ironic in some sense, for the man - now creature - who feared dogs to be a werewolf, a larger, more dangerous, and fantastical counterpart to the domesticated dog.

"Can I pet you?" the words fell from your lips before you knew it, your face flushed and your body seized in embarrassment.

Soap huffed and pushed his snout to your shoulder, lowering his head in approval. He would let you pet him, and you took it without complaint. His fur and mane were soft, maybe the softest you've ever touched (you grew up hunting with your father, you knew for as well as any other hunter). It was soft and silky, he had taken great care in his grooming.

He let out a satisfied rumble when he saw you smile, a childish wonder in your eyes. You were so captivated by Soap's looming form over you that you almost forgot about Rudolfo - keyword: almost. Something wet had nudged your elbow, you turned and saw a smaller dog, ghostly pale with glimmering, blue gems for eyes. It looked like a mix of a lab and a shepherd, the combination making this white dog adorable.

Your eyes observed the whole length of it, from its head to its tail, a long whisp-like swirl that turns blur at the end. It connected the dog to Rodolfo. You didn't know what the dog was. Was it a spirit? Or was it a familiar?

"Cadejos, Hunter," Rudolfo answered your silent question, smirking at your petting the spirit with one hand while the other scratched behind Soap's twitching ear. "Dog spirits. I'm their vessel."

That meant he was more human than Soap was, perhaps almost as you. You still gave him an awed look, amazed by the possibility of becoming a vessel for mythological beings and spirits.

You only truly found out whether or not Ghost was human or a monster on a mission. You were sent along with a team led by your Lieutenant to capture a standing AQ cell, one of the few that still stood without their leader.

You were, along with other sergeants, corporals, and privates, separated into two teams, Alpha and Bravo, one led by a sergeant and the other by Ghost. He had you follow him close, a way to watch how you did on the field. You made quick work of them, they were weak, disorganized, and fought with each other when they had no one to lead them. A pity for what used to be a big problem.

You were left on your own, Ghost having gone north to search for something. You had taken down the surviving men, pouncing on them in the dark. When you were done, you wiped your blade on your forearm, cleaning it from the iron stench of blood.

"Could've left one alive, Hunter," Ghost's deep growl made you jump, twisting to meet his dark eyes. They seemed endlessly black, like a void of darkness. "I'm bloody hungry..."

He crept closer, steps slow and purposeful, as if trying to spook you. He stopped before a fresh body, one you muffled and stabbed. The body was still warm, blood pooling from the wound and eyes glossed over with death.

"Hungry, sir?" you asked, unsure of what he meant or if he had muttered it to himself.

He hadn't replied, head turning to examine the rest of the corpses, strewn around you like a gift. A growl rumbled in his chest, mist rolling off his body like a crashing wave. It filled the area around you and tickled your feet in its cold, dark embrace. You watched the fog cover the laying corpses, dissolving and swallowing them into its murkiness.

When he meant by hungry, he actually meant eating humans, you shouldn't have been surprised, a was a wraith hybrid. Spirits of the dead that hate and haunted the living. It made more sense when he told you to let one alive, wraiths preferred living souls, dead ones were still filling but tasted lesser.

"Clean kills, " he finally spoke, his voice a timber lower than it was before his dinner. "Good job, corporal."

You nodded at him, stomach fluttering with his compliment, a praise from such a man - monster - was a prize, something he rarely gave to other soldiers. You smiled under your gaiter, you wore it for better protection in the sandy deserts of Al Mazrah.

"I'll remember leaving some alive next time, L.T."

He craned his head to look at you before he left, eyes squinted in what seemed like a smirk - devilish, you hoped - and gave you a firm nod. You scrambled to follow him, watching his broad, dark back as you walked a few steps behind him. He hadn't spoken a word to you since you got to exfil, but once you landed at the base, he motioned for you to follow him with the jerk of his wrist.

Ghost wasn't so bad if you got past the glaring image of danger he portrayed and the growls he gave. You couldn't wait to work with him again or with the others.

Gaz was a harpy, a very interesting and useful monster to have on your team. He was nice, not as chatty as Soap was, but he talked to you and smiled your way. His caramel-dipped smiles were to die for. He was easy to talk to, by far easier than your lieutenant had been at the start.

You saw him a lot in the rec room, sipping on tea or scrolling through pages on his phone. He was comfortable with you as you were with him, he let his talons out, lounging with his wings across the couch or over your lap as you cleaned them for him. The ever-so-teasing gentleman had a way with his words and his wits, often leaving you flustered or annoyed at his jabs.

Being a harpy meant he was light, bones hollow yet sturdy enough for a human body fitting his strong and slimmer frame. He could fly, and he became much more agile, more so than Soap's werewolf form (birds were naturally more graceful than canines) and he had a telescopic vision, razor-sharp and precise, more than any humans or monsters could have, it rivaled the falcon's keen sight.

If he was so light, agile, and all-seeing, without forgetting he could fly, how did he manage to fall from a helicopter not once, but twice? That question bothered you often, lingering at the back of your mind like a ghost (more so than the wraith himself that kept appearing at random and old moments behind you).

"You can fly, right?" you stared at his face, blank of any expression after finally mustering the courage to ask him.

"These wings aren't just for show, " Gaz hummed, leaning back into the chair that he brought out to watch Soap and Ghost spar. You would have your turn with the wraith after their matches.

"Then how do you manage to fall from a heli twice?" you shot, brows scrunched in a frown, confused.

His wings jerked, black feathers twitching at the reminder - an embarrassing one - of falling out, smiling sheepishly. He simply shrugged, every limb stretching, his wings lengthening to his whole span and toed talons stretching and curling. You were struck by its sharpness, his long nails and claws could cut a man in half, or completely sever a limb off.

You guess you'll never have an answer to your question, he could keep his pride and you could keep your question to yourselves. You wouldn't mind doing so, he let you preen his wings, you could touch those soft feathers and pluck dead or broken ones from his perfect plumage.

Alejandro Vargas, an unmarried and very eligible bachelor with a smooth tongue and a growl of a Mexican accent. He seemed almost too real to be true when he smiled charmingly your way, his perfect, white teeth glimmering under the yellow bulbs and his shiny, sweat-coated skin glowing golden after a mission.

Alejandro's a chivalrous person - and they said chivalry was dead - he's caring and protective. The Los Vaqueros, cowboys, were his team in Las Almas, a family that grew with every new batch of recruits and men and women devoted to the small village they grew up in. Mexicans were a tight-knit community from what you've seen in Alejandro's and Rudolfo's stories.

He was good, handsome, and strong, maybe too perfect to be human, and human, he wasn't. He's a shifter, like Soap, a full-bodied shifter from human to monster. Not unlike his human side, his Nagual side was mighty and honorable, a greater man and an even greater Nagual.

Although solitary by nature, Alejandro was a sociable character, the life of the party if he could, but he was also a responsible man. He was tall, but taller when shifted, claws sharp and a tail helped him balanced.

Once, you'd seen him shift, yellow and brown-dotted fur sprouting from his skin. His lower jaw had protruding canines, standing proudly over the ridge of his nose. He looked like a jaguar hybrid, wearing his golden fur like a crown

His other one, a panther, a jaguar born with more melanin than the usual one, was just as majestic. His fur was a darkened grey with black spots dotting his back and tail. He tended to use this form in darker places, or at night, hitting for efficiency and silence.

Captain Price, you knew he was a monster since your arrival, his long, green tail dragging behind him. You never bothered asking whether he was a lizard or a dragon, you only knew that his scaly tail was reptile-like in origin.

His smoking habit, girthy cigars burning and smoking at the edge, his chapped lips wrapped around the base of it as dark smoke leaked from the sides of his lips, curling in the air and around his beard.

Sometimes, there would be smoke without his cigar being lighted, a dry and unlit stick that still smoked. Charred gas, too dark to simply be cigar smoke. It came from him, inside, you concluded. Dragons could breathe fire and smoke, create it from within and push it out. Stirring around the mass of heat could feel overwhelming, warm, and uncomfortable without a release.

"Why cigars?" Price coccked his head, bro lifted at your question. "Helps me curb the need to burn." He breathed out another cloud, watching it swirl around his golden eyes. He explained it well and simply. Though he also liked the taste of it, an authentic, earthy texture.

Other than the occasional scales here and there that popped out, you've never seen his shift. Did he turn and grow like Soap and Alejandro? Did he change like Ghost and Gaz? Or did he have a dragon spirit? You were, albeit worried about prying, curious about your Captain's change.

Your chance appeared when he called you to his office, wanting your help with something related to his wing- wings? You weren't expecting much, maybe seeing a glimpse of the tip of his wings or the sharp edge of his horns.

He was leaning against his desk when you knocked on his door, letting you in with a sharp grunt. He was hunched over his desk, his wing, green and wide, stretched out. His bucket hat laying on his table, letting his horns grow out and curve upwards, both green and shiny. His tail was violently and anxiously swishing back and forth, hands and arms overturned with scales. His fingers turned green and callused, his nails became sharp claws and tinted green.

"You've got softer hands than any of those blokes, Hunter," Price said, his reason for calling you was for your talented hands, skilled at massages and with the knife. "Lost it in a crash, 's fine."

Although for a reason, you still got to see every part of him, hear the story behind his missing wing, and share a few pleasantries. He groans and grunts during your sessions, but the muscles on his back were less tense and strained.

Price wasn't one to brag about himself, tell his exploits to others, but yours, he did, how skilled your hands were at loosening the knots on his back and shoulders, turning them putty under your palms. Soap had come rushing, following your scent until he found you, for a massage like the one Price got.

You sighed, this wasn't what you signed up for, the sudden rush of adrenaline or scares they would cause, popping or jumping out of nowhere when you had your back turned. Some - Soap, Rudy, and Gaz - were mischievously childish, loving pranks as much as they did them. You'd get white hair before you hit your late 20s.

Fortunately, the three others were far more mature, one charming, one broody, and one proud. You don't regret joining, even with being the weakest and only human in the Task Force, the 141 was your family, a dysfunctional one with an occupational hazard, but still a little family.

After all, big, broad men working by your side on a daily had its perks, and brought a big, horny problem.

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buckrecs · 1 year

Note

HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs

Winter Soldier!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees

“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.

Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.

Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

ephemeral by @earlgreydream

the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.

Purgatory by @wkemeup

While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.

a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks

the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?

Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration

Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13

One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.

Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne

A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake.

Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime

You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.

take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff

The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.

I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust

something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.

Void by @theeleggymeggy

Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.

Sweet Memory by @

SERIES

One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare

Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?

Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

Reset by @lunarbuck

The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.

Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel

With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.

Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours

While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.

Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier!bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x hydra!reader #winter soldier smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!winter soldier #sex pollen

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hansensgirl · 9 months

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summary. | Breaking up with Steve Rogers is harder than it seems.

prompts. | Steve Rogers + no AU + “Don’t be a brat.” + Manhandling, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, manhandling, roughness, mean!steve?, angry!steve, friends-with-benefits/sex-only relationship, pet names, attempt at breaking up, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Captain America’s hand squeezes your arm tightly as he drags you out of the elevator and to one of the spare sleeping quarters. You let him do as he likes, knowing you have no authority compared to the Star Spangled Man.

“Captain Rogers–” you begin, but he grumbles. “Sir, if you’d just stop and listen for a second–” you insist, trying again. “Shut up,” he spits out, throwing you onto the cot.

You land with an ‘oomph,’ forgetting for a second just how much stronger Steve is than the regular person. “You know, I thought you’d be happy with what I did,” he begins, shutting the door behind him. The small room is dark, but you can still see him pretty well.

He leans over you, eyes flicking as he runs them up and down your body. You gulp thickly, nervous under his stare.

“I am, Steve. I promise,” you breathe out, forgoing the professional farce you’re forced to put up in public. But behind closed doors, he’s your Steve—the one you’ve been having a strictly sex-only relationship for the last few months. “Really? It doesn’t feel that way.”

You sigh in annoyance. Steve is crazy about communication despite this not being a traditional relationship. You’ve explained it to him time and time again, and although he says he understands, he never listens.

“I swear,” you tell him, sitting up to level your gaze with Steve. You roll your eyes at his anger.

He’s referring to how he used his rank to get a few weeks off for vacation, where he promises he’ll take you to whatever foreign country you’d like. The only issue is that you don’t have the same clearance as Steve, so you’re stuck with the same schedule.

Except now, he has all the time in the world to hound you as you try to work.

“Don’t be a brat,” Steve hisses, grabbing you by your arms once again as he lifts you up. “I’m not being a brat, Steve. I just wish you’d have told me sooner,” you sigh.

His jaw clenches in frustration. “Why? You’ve been avoiding me for the last two weeks. I thought it would be a nice surprise, yet here you are, sulking,” he says, seething the entire time.

You wince at how rough Steve’s voice is. You’re sure the only other time he’s like this is on the field, and it hurts your feelings. Undeniably, you’re scared.

“I’m not sulking,” you groan in annoyance. You have to tell Steve what’s been on the tip of your tongue for days on end. It’s the only way he’ll realize why you’ve been distant from him. “I’m thinking of ending things. Between us.”

You sigh out the words and are greeted by complete silence. All you can hear is Steve’s heavy breathing.

“What?” he finally says, as if your words have just sunken in. “I don’t think we should continue… this, okay? You’ve been great to me, and I really do like you, Steve, but it’s not a good idea to keep it going. You deserve better. So do I.”

Steve squints his eyes as he listens to your monologue. The silence prolongs.

“You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I can pull a few strings to get you some time off,” he finally says, breaking the tension in the room.

“...What?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’ll leave and come back on the same day, too,” he smiles, and you furrow your brows. Steve places a hand on your face and strokes your cheek, the anger in his face cooling.

“No, Steve–”

“What? Can’t even be grateful for that either?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. His constantly switching behaviours give you whiplash. “You’re going on that vacation with me, whether you like it or not,” he tells you, pushing you back onto the cot.

“Did you really think you can leave me that easily, sweetie? How cute.”

#sabs concepts #steve rogers #marvel #the avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #chris evans #dark!#drabble #request #sab’s dark concepts (2023)

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crappy-writings · 4 days

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The Run and Go

Natasha RomanoffxEx-Widow!Reader // Enemies to Lovers(Ish), Angst, Series (?)

*Images are not mine, credit to its sources and creators

Prompt: You, an ex-Red Room graduate turned mercenary, take up an assignment to retrieve some sensitive information from the Triskelion. You run into Natasha as you escape, much to your anger. You can’t seem to escape her after this first encounter as different circumstances force you to work together.

Summary: The Triskelion’s infiltration was going so well. That was until a certain redhead makes an appearance, leading to a long-awaited confrontation.

Trigger Warning: Poorly researched hacking concepts and lingo, bad spy/escape sequence, guns, google-translated Russian, swearing, canon-typical violence, implied/mentioned physical and emotional child abuse, the Red Room, bad fight scene, minor injury, let me know if I need to add more.

Word Count: 3,858

A/N: Did I watch Iron Man 2, Captain America and the Winter Soldier and Black Widow, analyzing Nat’s and other Widows’ fight styles? Yes, yes I did. Was I successful in writing an interesting fight scene in line with what I saw? Probably not, no, but here we are.

Let me know if anything needs to be fixed!

Part 2 ->

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics

Breaking into the Triskelion had been almost effortless. It was easy to slip into its walls without raising suspicion, to become invisible once inside. No one expects a mouse to simply walk into the cat’s den. Then again, you were not a mouse, and the cat thought itself untouchable.

There was no air of importance to your stride, no urgency in your steps. Your clothes showed little rank, most agents barely sparing you a first glance as you walked through the hallways alongside them, not realizing you were most definitely not one of them. Pride was always the downfall of man, you thought.

The hallways and floors all seemed the same to you. The absence of windows was glaring in the lower levels, being only lit up by white, fluorescent lights, basking the stone walls in a similar hue. The floors were a familiar, polished, gray color, reflecting the light upwards. Despite the unoriginality of the corridors, you’re able to find the control room rather quickly, having already memorized the interior layout of the building before even dreaming of stepping inside. It was somewhat dark inside the control room, mainly lit up by the several rows of screen monitors and a few of the same fluorescent lights that decorated the hallways.

There was a singular agent in there when you stepped inside. He barely looks up from his screen, unbothered by your sudden intrusion. You pick a desk and sit down, beginning your search for the files your employer had asked for.

There was a vulnerability in one of the system's firewalls, one you quickly exploited. It took you longer than you wanted to admit, but you were able to completely break through it, making it easier to find the necessary files. A cough interrupted your concentration, causing you to turn to look at the agent sharing the space with you. His eyes never strayed from his own monitor, raising a cup to his lips as he continued to type away on his keyboard. After confirming you were still in the clear, you returned to your work.

It took you a few extra minutes to find the ones you were looking for but were able to download all of them onto the pendrive given to you by your employer. Once you had everything, you deleted all the information you took from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s servers. You even deployed a nasty virus that will keep them occupied for a few days for good measure.

There is a small part of you that feels satisfaction at having been able to take something from the organization as easily as you had. You stand nonchalantly from the seat you had claimed as yours, approaching the communal pot of coffee hidden away in one of the room’s corners. The singular agent hidden behind his monitor just barely acknowledges you, his eyes leaving his monitor for a few seconds before returning to his work. You serve yourself some coffee in a paper cup, taking a few sips before slipping out of the room.

The problem had never been getting in. No, it was about getting out.

The walk to the elevator was relatively short, the hallway empty as you made your way towards it. It was almost eerie, the way things were going, given that it was typically around this part where you would walk into some form of trouble. You knew that downloading that information was going to tip off some server moderators, adding an extra layer of difficulty to your escape. Even so, the invisibility you have managed to maintain is still your greatest weapon.

Two agents stepped out of the elevator once it had reached your floor. One of them acknowledged you with a singular nod while the other barely spared you a glance.

You step into the now empty space, the computer screen showcasing your face, along with a fake alias and a serial ID number. The creation and uploading of the fake S.H.I.E.L.D. agent profile had taken you weeks to accomplish, but its completion was the key to slipping in and out of the building mostly undetected. Having some of the organization’s face-changing technology would have made the infiltration a lot easier, but that technology is too safely guarded for you to have been able to get your hands on it.

The doors had not shut closed yet, waiting for you to state your destination. “Lobby,” a voice that is not your own rings out from your vocal cords. The voice moderator that you had nicked from one of your past jobs had come quite in handy, especially for this mission. The piece of technology was hidden away under the collar of your stolen uniform, its detection nearly impossible.

“Confirmed,” the automated voice of the computer rang out into the enclosed space, and finally began its descent. Breathing was becoming an easier task as you were one step closer out the Triskelion’s door.

The elevator stopped a few times as it continued to go down, letting agents in and out on different floors. Most of their trips were short, some engaging in small talk before exiting the confined space.

“Controls,” an older man dressed in a blue suit commanded, followed by the computer’s robotic voice, “Confirmed.” He had a kind face, dark brown eyes aged with crow’s feet and his hair white and thinning.

“Working hard or hardly working?” the man asked, his tone light and jovial, as the elevator continued its descent. You sent him a friendly smile, adding a small chuckle for good measure.

“Not sure yet,” you replied, not dropping the smile, “Every day is unpredictable in S.H.I.E.L.D.”

The man replied with a chuckle of his own, “That, it is.” The elevator opened into another level, allowing the man to step out. He sends you a friendly smile as he departs, leaving you alone in the confined space once more.

You reach the lobby shortly after. The space was wide, a glass canopy overhead, allowing the warm glow of sunlight to stream in. The walls were decorated with a mixture of off-white stone, dark tile and stained wood, the floor a dark gray that complemented the space nicely. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s emblem was showcased proudly in the very center of the room, reminding everyone who walked inside of where they stood.

The lobby was full of people, some dressed in nice, neutral-colored suits, while others were dressed in tactical gear. Security hung around the entrances and exits, eyes sharp as they overlooked the crowd.

There was purpose in your stride now. The longer you took to get out, the larger the possibility of getting caught. It was only a matter of minutes before someone noticed the missing information that burned in your uniform pocket, if they did not know already.

You made your way across the lobby unperceived. The sense of satisfaction from a successful mission had begun to bloom in your chest as you easily blended into the large group of agents that zipped in and out of the building. That was until you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, the sensation of a pair of eyes staring you down from somewhere behind you making you come to a stop.

Your eyes scanned the room methodically, until you spotted a set of familiar green eyes and fiery red hair, ones you thought you would never see again. There was a flicker of recognition in her features, but it lasted for less than a second, slipping on her perfectly crafted mask of indifference, her expression unreadable as neither of you break eye contact. A wave of burning hot emotion overcomes you, before you stamp it out. Emotion is a weakness. Emotion is for children. Emotion gets you killed.

Neither one of you had looked away from each other, as if a silent conversation was being held between the both of you. You subtly raise your head, your eyes narrowed and daring. It was a silent challenge, and invitation to your long-awaited encounter. It was a dangerous game to play while in the confines of hundreds, if not thousands, of highly trained agents, especially when one of those agents was Natasha Romanoff, but it was one you would play, nonetheless.

You’re the first one to break eye contact with her, quickly becoming invisible within the crowd of agents. A cat has spotted you and was about to give chase.

It would almost be thrilling to be running from the Black Widow turned Avenger, were it not for the blazing resentment snaking its way through your chest. It had been years since you last saw her, her defection to the very organization you just stole from had left you filled with a sense of bitterness and betrayal.

The rest of your journey towards the garage went uninterrupted, but you know she was somewhere nearby, following your moves closely as you weaved through the lower levels. Spotting the redhead had suddenly made you itch for a fight, adrenaline fueling your body.

Your bike comes into view as you reach the final garage level. The vehicle was hidden away in a secluded part of the parking space, far away from the other cars. The keys jingled in your hand as you pulled them out of your uniform pocket. You would have closed the distance between you and your escape, except that you felt her ghost-like presence lurking from behind you, finally making herself known.

With a singular deep breath, you stick your hand out to the side, showcasing your keys to her before tossing them forwards, the sound of metal clattering against the smooth asphalt a few feet from your motorcycle.

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again, Romanoff,” your modified voice echoed in the vastness of the garage. Your hand instinctively reaches for your concealed gun, pulling it out in one swift movement as you turn to face her.

“I would say the same to you,” she stood a few feet away from you, her stance paralleling yours, guns raised and aimed at each other’s heads. Her eyes had a hard edge to them as she stared you down, “Why are you here?”

“Just seeing the sights of Washington, D.C. There’re so many museums here, you know?” there is vexation in your tone despite your sarcastic words, “Plus, how could I skip out on admiring the Triskelion’s architecture? Bet the engineers had fun building it.”

The both of you had stepped closer to each other without realizing it, her firearm about a foot away from your own. She ignores your quip, instead choosing to make a go for your gun. You mirror her movements, both of you trading guns before aiming them at one another once more.

Neither of you said anything as you continued to stare each other down, the tension thick enough to be cut by the edge of a knife. Her eyes were studying yours, searching for something and you’re not quite sure what it is. There was a subtle change in her stance shortly after as she dared you to make the first move. So, you did. You went for her gun again, this time flinging it across the empty garage, the piece of metal skidding across the asphalt. She does the same, the Red Room’s training being activated on pure instinct.

The beginning of your fight was not a fight at all, though. You were both following a basic combat sequence of simple parries and blows taught to you in the confines of the Red Room. The drill was the one that was taught to the youngest of girls, set to provide them with the basics. It was more of a dance for the both of you, perfectly choreographed and in sync with the others' familiar response. It was child’s play.

For a brief moment, you felt like you were back in the Red Room, the both of you locked in the familiar dance as your handlers watched you engage in a sparring match. The parries and blows you sent each other’s way were predictable, neither of you having the heart to truly fight and hurt the other. Your punishments for your defiance would vary, the ones you remember most being obligated to practice the same ballet move until your feet bled. The other usual punishment was to be made to fight an older Widow, one that would not hesitate to hurt you, to teach you a lesson for holding back. Eventually, your sparring sessions no longer started with the predictable routine of parries and blows, replaced by hard tackles to the ground, bruising kicks and skin-breaking hits.

Old habits die hard, it seems.

Your mind snaps out of it as she grabs hold of your arm mid-swing before securing a hold over your shoulder, allowing her to throw you onto the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs, and it takes you a few seconds too long for you to recover.

“What did you do?” She asks as she manages to hold you in place, her legs straddling your waist while her arms have you pinned down against the ground.

“That’s not your concern, dorogoy,” you smirk up at her as you smash your forehead against her mouth. The distraction allows you enough time to securely grab her by her forearms, your freed legs find her stomach, flipping her over you. She lands roughly a few inches over your own head, the force of the flip enough to leave her stunned for a few moments, allowing you to quickly get to your feet.

“I have to go,” the voice moderator that had been hidden under your collar was knocked loose, your voice sounding strange as you taunt her, “It was nice seeing you.” You were scooping your bike’s keys from the ground before she pushed you into the vehicle, knocking you both onto the ground.

In hindsight, it was dumb of you to believe she would stay down.

The back of your head hits against the floor, stars filling your vision for a few moments, your bike tangled under your feet. You feel her grab the fabric of your stolen trainee uniform, dragging you away from your bike and towards one of the garage's walls.

You struggle against her, managing to break free from her hold. Once back on your feet, you send a few firm punches her way, and she is unable to dodge a few of them.

You were sloppy in your attack though, as she gets a firm grasp on your arm once more. Her other hand gets a hold of your shoulder and pushes you back up against the building, slamming you against the wall once, twice, three times. A string of coughs escapes you, air not reaching your lungs. You feel the fight begin to leave your body and hate that she was able to incapacitate you. In a last-ditch effort, you press your hands against her face, forcefully pushing against her with all your might. This somewhat works, placing a bit more space between you, enough for you to raise your leg, and knee her in the stomach. This sends her back a few inches and you send another swift kick to the affected area. Your legs react before your mind does, trying to close the distance between you and your knocked over bike, the keys within your view on the ground.

You were still a few feet away when you felt a sharp and burning sting emanate from your lower back, your body locking up against your will and effectively sending you tumbling to the ground. She threw a fucking Widow Bite at you.

“Cheater!” you yell at her, your body completely unable to move. She catches up to you, one arm cradling her stomach, before grabbing you by the scruff of the stolen uniform and dragging you up against the nearest wall. Your body felt numb, every single one of your nerve endings having been lit on fire mere seconds ago.

“I’m not gonna ask you again, what the fuck are you doing here?” her tone is hard and almost dangerous, her eyes scanning over every single one of your features in search of any telltale signs of a lie. It was only now that you realized that she was bleeding from her slightly swollen lip, a trail of crimson running down her chin. There’s a small, sick sense of pride that settles within you as you watch the blood flow from the split lip you gave her.

“Fuck you, Romanoff, I don’t owe you shit,” the familiar sparks of anger were building up inside your chest.

“Answer the question,” her tone is even and low. It was not until now that you realized she had picked up one of the discarded firearms, the barrel of the gun being pointed directly at your head. Something within you was emboldened by this, leaning forwards as the tip of the gun presses lightly against your forehead.

“You’re not gonna shoot me,” your eyes staring directly into hers in defiance.

“How are you so sure about that?” she asked through narrowed eyes, digging the barrel further into your skin, her finger hugging the trigger but not squeezing it.

“Because you would have shot me the second you saw me if you truly wanted me dead,” you reply, and the words taste bitter in your mouth. There is a visceral hatred in the gaze you level at her, the teasing air that had coated your initial confrontation having completely dissolved.

“Why are you so angry at me?”

The question had been so simple. It made you want to explode.

“Did-did you seriously just ask me that? I have to tell you?” you almost choke on the acidity that coursed through your tongue as you spoke those words. A bitter laugh makes its way past your lips, your head shaking slightly as a sense of indignation floods your chest.

“Tell me Natalia, did you think that everything would be magically solved the day you defected?” The burning sensation of unfiltered anger and overwhelming resentment are spilling out of you, and you do your best to push them away forcefully. Your mask cannot break. Your mask will not break.

Emotion is a weakness. Emotion is for children. Emotion gets you killed.

The words repeated over and over again in your head, a never-ending chant driven into you by your handlers. Emotion had always been the one thing that you struggled with in the program as a child, constantly making you hesitate and clouding your judgment. Your handlers recognized this weakness in you, and they worked you tirelessly, trying to stomp it out of you. Your struggle against emotion is what got you recycled four times before you finally graduated.

Natasha’s face gave away no indication of what she was thinking. Her features were schooled perfectly into a mask of indifference, and that made you all the more angry.

“I had to get out,” she defends herself; the gun being slightly lowered.

“I don’t care,” you want to yell, you want to scream, but you don’t, “You leaving made The Red Room all the more difficult to survive.”

Something about what you just said made a crack in Natasha’s mask. It was nearly imperceivable, but you saw the twitch her brows made at your statement.

“The Red Room doesn’t exist anymore. Dreykov is dead,” she states factually. Her tone was so confident, so sure, you almost believed her. But she was wrong. He may have gone into hiding, never showing his face, but his whispers still rang inside the halls of the Red Room, his fingers choking the life out of every Widow still stuck there. His presence was a stain that would never leave.

You can’t suppress the bitter laugh that escapes you, “Is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. told you?”

The numbing feeling that had spread throughout your body was beginning to wear off. There’s a small twitch in your leg, one that Natasha notices and she knows she is running out of time.

“I was there, we rigged bombs up a five-story building,” Natasha recounts, her eyes taking a similar hard edge from earlier.

“The Red Room still exists, Natasha,” you talk low and slowly, your tone was no longer defensive or angry. She needs to know she is wrong. “Dreykov isn’t dead.”

“It’s impossible, I killed him,” she restated adamantly. Her mask was slowly cracking, but you do not feel victorious about it.

“He’s alive, Romanoff. I’m not fucking with you,” your tone was exasperated, “Why would I lie?”

“Why are you here?”

“Chert poberi,” the curse slips past your lips, your annoyance at the redhead radiating off of you, “I took a job, I’m a mercenary now, that’s all you need to know.” You finally push yourself off the ground, your legs stumbling slightly as the pins and needles continue to prickle under your skin. She allows you to stand, backing away from you with her gun still trained on your head.

“Listen, I don’t care if you believe me or not. Dreykov is not dead, and the Red Room is still alive and well. You don’t need me to tell you what happens in there,” you shook your head gently as the familiar, bitter taste of your words coat your tongue.

You made no effort to move away from her yet, despite desperately wanting to leave. Her gun was still trained on you, and you were beginning to doubt whether or not she would actually shoot you. A single wrong move could mean the difference between life and death, or worse, getting turned in.

But she was no longer focused on you. Her mask had slipped off, and for the first time since you were children, you could read every emotion in her eyes. There was conflict there, torn between the lie she had convinced herself of and the reality of your words. There was wariness in her gaze, but there was something else too, something bigger.

It was guilt.

She believes you.

You begin to move away from the wall she had you pinned against, your bike about ten feet away from you. It’s clear she has no intentions of stopping you, instead lowering her gun slowly, her eyes never leaving yours.

She… she was letting you go.

The gaze you send her is cautious and untrusting, but you continue to move away from her, nonetheless. She eventually breaks the eye contact you had maintained, her eyes dropping down to the ground, her breaths slow, heavy and unsteady. There is enough space between the both of you for you to run. You caution one last look at her, but she has not moved a muscle.

“See you around, Romanoff,” Your tone is not victorious nor teasing, it’s dejected and almost sad.

With that, you run towards your bike, scooping your keys from the ground swiftly before driving away, leaving Natasha behind with her thoughts.

Part 2 ->

#marvel #marvel fanfic #avengers #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader

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