#the seventh avenger

[xafire-inside]

M. Shadows

[trvemephisto]

Avenged Sevenfold, 2004

[cyberhexes]

had to edit the babygirl to end all babygirls

[rock--band]

American heavy metal band "A7X" from Huntington Beach, California, formed in 1999 Current members M. Shadows – lead vocals, piano (1999–present) Zacky Vengeance – rhythm guitar, backing vocals (1999–present); lead guitar (1999–2001) Synyster Gates – lead guitar, piano (2001–present) Johnny Christ – bass (2002–present); backing vocals (2005–present) Brooks Wackerman – drums (2015–present)

Studio albums

Sounding the Seventh Trumpet (2001)

Waking the Fallen (2003)

City of Evil (2005)

Avenged Sevenfold (2007)

Nightmare (2010)

Hail to the King (2013)

The Stage (2016)

Life Is But a Dream… (2023)

100+ Rock Band Posters and Canvas Prints

Print Option: ♦ Framed Poster Print ♦ Canvas Print ♦ Metal Print ♦ Acrylic Print ♦ Wood Prints 🌐 Worldwide shipping

[azulas-badjokes]

Seventh Soldier

So this is a fanfic I’ve been writing, slowly chipping at over several months. It is an OC x Bucky Barnes, that OC being a self-insert of me. If you hate it, let me know and I’ll stop if it’s cringe. On with the Show!

Seventh Soldier

warnings: uhhhh, depressing?, torture, biting, murder, blood, sadness?, (idk I’ve never done this), hot woman

Blood caked the side of her head. She had been so foolish as to allow the clever Venezuelan an opportunity, and he had taken it, smashing the handle of the pistol into the side of her cranium. Before he could continue the barrage, a slug nailed him in the chest and he fell. 

The Winter Soldier lowered the gun slowly. To say the pair of them had left a mess was an understatement. 12 men sprawled haphazardly, knives sticking out of them, blood coating the hotel floor. But it was quiet. She slowly got to her feet, putting her hand to her head, feeling the hot, sticky blood. 

“We should go,” She said softly in Russian. The Winter Soldier turned to go, but then she collapsed with a groan. He picked her up easily and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. They had places to be. 

Bucky woke with a start. Nightmares chased him constantly, so much so that sleeping was dreaded. He ran his hands through his hair, still long. He didn’t have the heart to cut it. 

Bucky kept seeing the same thing, every night. He had hoped to forget her, and those sad hazel eyes watching him. She hadn’t pitied him, she had loved him, and that was so much worse. 

James Buchanan Barnes watched the news that night, the flashing blue light being the only illumination in his Brooklyn apartment. There was a group of terrorists who had robbed a Swiss bank, calling themselves the Flag Smashers. Bucky could tell by their movements that they were super soldiers. Not welled trained ones, but nevertheless, still juiced up on the blue drug. 

Bucky clicked the television off, deep in thought. Somebody needed to do something, and he hated to be the leader. But he also hated to be the bystander. If these terrorists weren’t stopped, people would die. 

These extremist groups were always quick to get to the worst. 

Far across the pond called the Atlantic, high in a London penthouse, sat a girl. She was bent over her laptop, working on a plan. This plan could not be interrupted or paused for any reason. It would be so satisfying to see the looks on their faces when they saw that she was alive. 

One more appointment, Bucky thought to himself. Of course, that’s what he said every week as he trudged to therapy. He couldn’t see how repeating every horrible thing he had done would help bring “closure”, it seemed pointless.

But here Bucky was, sitting on a plush couch, wishing he was back in Wakanda or doing something. 

“Look, James, I can’t help you if you can’t help yourself.” His therapist broke through his thoughts. 

“What if I don’t want help?” Was his snarky reply. She shook her head and pulled out her notebook. He glanced at the clock. 45 more minutes. 

“Fine. I crossed off a name.”

“Very good, and did you remember the rules?”

“What are the rules again?”

“Nobody gets hurt, kind of a big one.”

“Yeah,” replied Bucky, lying through his teeth. If the idiot in the passenger seat hadn’t pulled a gun, he probably wouldn’t be in the hospital. 

“What else?”

“It was a senator who used me to get her power, and she’d been abusing it for some time. She was turned over to the authorities.”

“Very good. Not seeking revenge is good.”

Bucky disagreed. 

The 45 minutes passed excruciatingly slow, but when they did, Bucky bolted out. He despised the room, with its birch tree wallpaper and tasteless decor. He wanted right now, more than anything, someone who could listen. Steve would have listened, but Steve was currently enjoying a life of ease. 

Bucky didn’t go to the apartment, rather he took the subway down to the CIA office. He had slowly become friends with the people who worked there, helping him search through records, determining to bring to justice the rest of HYDRA. 

“Hey Bucky!” The receptionist was Jade, the happy-go-lucky intern, that had a habit of being really friendly. She clacked away at a computer, tossing her braids over her shoulder. 

“Hello Jade. I was wondering if you had anything on the flag smashers?” Bucky asked. Jade sucked in a breath between her teeth. 

“Sorry, that’s pretty confidential stuff, but I did hear they might be looking for volunteers to go spy, or inform, as they say. Seems like everyone who goes against these guys gets beat pretty badly.”

“Wait, we’ve already tried to stop them?”

“We’ve had a couple run-ins with them, and it hasn’t ended well. Couple of our guys are still in ICU.” 

“That’s too bad.”

“Bucky! Just the man we’re looking for.” It was Darrell Freedly, the head of the office in Brooklyn. “Can I speak to you for a second?”

Darrell sat down and shuffled some of the papers on his desk before handing a file to Bucky. 

“That’s everything we have on the flag smashers. The rumor is that a former HYDRA scientist manufactured the serum for them,” Darrell said, stroking his bearded chin. 

“This Nagel guy? I don’t know him, but then again I spent 30 years in a Russian bunker. He’s in Madripoor?” Bucky asked, his stormy eyes roving over the file. 

“Yep. We’ve sent in men, but Jade told you it didn’t go well. It would be nice if it was a fair fight.” 

“How many have the serum?”

Darrell exhaled and shook his head. 

“Hard to say. Anywhere between 2 and 20.”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger sitting here. I’ll go to Madripoor and scope it out.”

“My informants have told me of two names you should be aware of. Apparently there was a power trip a couple months back and the balance shifted. The Countess of Monte Cristo and The Power Broker are the two you should be on the look out for.”

“The Countess of Monte Cristo?”

“I don’t know, must be a nerd.”

“Must be.”

[lokisgoodgirl]

Open Skies [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's first time flying the Quinjet is a memorable one. Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Smut. Loki x Female Reader. Silly things. Mutual pining. Oral (M). (w/c 2.2k)

Tony dangled the key between his thumb and forefinger. The fob swung in front of Loki’s smirking face. “To Virginia, and back again,” Tony said. He was not in the mood for games. Loki’s eyebrows shot up. He pressed his fingers to his chest in mock-hurt before extending the cup of his palm out, fingers unfolding with a graceful flourish. “I need to learn, Stark..." he postured innocently. “The simulations only go so far. You know that.”

“And you’ll behave?” Loki rolled his eyes. “What egregious sin could I possibly commit with your garish vessel while under the watchful eye of our trustworthy Agent here?” he said, flicking a finger towards you. “Is that not why she has been chosen for this farce? To keep me in line? To make sure I don’t damage this metal substitute for masculinity?” Tony’s eyes darted in an aborted eye-roll. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, observing Loki with suspicion. “It should only take you twenty minutes- if that,” he said, tossing the fob in the air. The god caught it. Loki let you walk ahead up the ramp. The weight of his stare clung to your ass like wet paint as you made your way to the front of the craft and slid into the passenger seat. He paused, giving both headrests a squeeze as he observed the screens. You watched his profile stiffen, a swallow working his neck. For all his breezy pomposity, he was nervous. “Just like the simulator,” you said, “you’ll be fine.” Loki's face remained unchanged by your re-assurance. He cleared his throat, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater; the one with the Avengers logo that he swore the first time he saw it that he would never wear.

He manoeuvred himself into the driver’s seat. “Is he watching?” he asked quietly. You pressed the screen, making the rear camera pop up. Tony stood below the under-hang of the landing area, arms folded. “Right..." Loki said, lips pursing.

He ran his palms down the tight chinos creased to his thighs. One long finger tentatively pressed against the central screen.

In a matter of seconds, the Quinjet’s engines fired to life. Loki flinched. His fingers flexed before their length curled around the lever sitting between you. He pushed it into elevate. "Thirty-five-thousand feet..." Loki murmured to himself, pressing a series of buttons on the screen.

He reached up, pressing an intercom above his head.

"This is Loki Laufeyson, Avengers Unit, Stark Tower," he said, gazing out the huge window at the skyscrapers.

His voice made goose-bumps ripple on your skin. It massaged over the syllables like crude oil over glass, thick and utterly erotic in its uniform sincerity. “Lifting off - flightpath expected from New York City to above Richmond, Virginia. No target, no landing. Training exercise, thirty-five thousand feet. Copy?”

He released the button. Static hummed. Loki’s fingers readjusted around the lever. “Copy, Mr Laufeyson." the radio crackled. "Clear for take-off. Route mapped. Any changes, let us know.”

Loki let out a small, satisfied sigh. He shot you a weak smile. “Good?” he asked. You nodded. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, delicate strands falling around his face. It framed his cheekbones perfectly. “Try not to be too aroused by my piloting-skills, Agent,” Loki goaded, turning his attention to the thrusters. “I have been practising very hard to make it seem effortless.” He pressed several more buttons without a pause.

You and Loki had hooked up for several weeks just before his most recent mission. But whether it was clarity during the absence, or simply lack of interest; when he had come back no moves were made on either side. On your part, it was simple terror. Being with Loki in that way was unbelievable the first time that it had happened, never mind the seventh, eighth, ninth. Part of you didn’t want to push your luck. It had crossed your mind that he had actually forgotten. And if that was true, then you didn’t want to know.

The force of the ascent pushed you back into your seat, facing forwards. Out the corner of your eye you saw a grin stretch over the god’s face as the New York skyline became mere dots below. He yanked the lever a few more times into position, setting it in cruise. The beep of buttons and the hum of the engines were the only sounds. Ahead, there was nothing but open skies. “Well done, I’m very impressed,” you said with a smile, shifting to face him. The seatbelt dug into your shoulder. Without realising, you had set a hand to rest on his thigh. The two of you looked at it, eyes rising to meet. One of Loki’s brows cocked. “Agent?” he growled. “Are you trying to seduce the captain?”

You were about to deny it. But he was the god of lies, after all. In which case there was no getting around it. And even if there was – did you want to? “Yes.” you said. Loki barked a small laugh of disbelief, turning his eyes back to the wide windows. “It will take more than that, Agent.” he said, offering a small nod to the hand resting mid-way up his thigh. “Especially after giving me the cold-shoulder on my return.” Your stomach dropped. “I did no such thing-” you started, but Loki had begun to tut. It’s slow methodical click ticked over the air between you. His eyes never left the blue sky out the front of the Quinjet. “On the contrary. On my return, I came to your rooms. I left a note, and quite a suggestive one at that. I made myself quite vulnerable, actually.” You frowned. “Loki, I moved rooms like three weeks ago.” Loki pressed a finger to his forehead. “Who’s in your old one?” “Scott.” “Ah,” Loki said, grimacing. “I was wondering why he had been particularly familiar of late.” The god shot you a sheepish smile. “I may have gone into great detail about oral sex in my correspondence.” “Giving or Receiving?” “Receiving.” The two of your burst into raucous laughter.

Loki took his hands from the steering wheel, wiping a tear of mirth. “In defence of my uncouth written request, you do give the most glorious blowjobs,” he muttered, offering a tilt of his head. “And it was a very long mission. I was in desperate need of attention.” “Did you ever get it?” “No. Although in hindsight, Lang did attempt to ease my disposition.”

You and Loki exchanged a restrained smirk before bursting into laughter again. “I feel terrible,” you said, starting to feel giddy. “I thought you weren’t into me anymore, so I just…” “Gave up without a fight?” Loki said, pressing a button and shifting the stick. “Understandable. I am rather intimidating.”

Your hand began to dance up his thigh, following the rise of his insane quad muscle. You squeezed. The fingers slid inward, brushing the growing bulge in his crotch. Loki shifted in his seat, chinos rustling. “Agent…” he warned. But his eyes sparkled.

The god’s legs widened in the generous seat. Creases ran thick across his spread thighs, the outline of his cock stark against the light fabric. It stretched up to his hip by the side of the zipper. You bit your lip as he thrust gently into your cupped hand. “We shouldn’t…” you said, tracing the length of his cock with one light finger. “No,” Loki breathed. “But we will.” The click of your seatbelt and the resulting flurry of your fingers at his buttons was instant. Loki raised one arm to let you work, lowering the tight zipper and setting his cock free with a bounce into your waiting hand. “Fuck,” he choked through ragged breaths, “Agent you don’t have to-” You looked up at him, head pressed back against the rest and the veins in his throat tightening. He had that stoic, regal set upon his features, cheekbones hard and unwavering, mouth closed as he stared at your with hungry eyes. The only thing that gave him away was the sound of small puffs of air flaring in rapid succession from his nostrils. Without looking, you could tell his knuckles were white on the wheel. One of his forearms rested on the nape of your neck.

“If you don’t think I want to suck your cock, Laufeyson,” you whispered, pausing to place a kiss on the leaking tip, “then you’re even crazier than I thought.” Loki inhaled sharply as you swallowed him. The breath caught in his throat, forcing its way back through a series of stuttering breaks that made desire thrash deep in your cunt. Fingers wrapped around the base of him, you worked slowly back and forth until his manhood was slippery with spit. Your face lowered on to the bottom of Loki’s sweatshirt with every dip of your head. Sucking wet and hot as the vein that ran the length of his cock throbbed against your tongue. There it was, that sweet saltiness pearling at the cracked creases of your lips. God, how you’d missed that. The taste of him. There was nothing like it.

Loki’s placid moans filled the cockpit. It was polite, in a way. Gentlemanly, while his slender fingers grasped delicately against your hair. You lingered at the crown, running your tongue against the sensitive underside.

Loki jolted in his seat. The Quinjet took a dive, and you froze - cushioning his glory with your tongue as the god corrected the flightpath. He chuckled, hissing as you tightened the grip of the fingers around his root and began to pump in time with your mouth. “We’ve reached-uh...g-gods, Richmond,” he stammered. His fingers grasped at your hair, knees beginning to tremble. “I’m carrying out a soft turn, bringing us one hundred and sixty degrees before returning to the original..f..f-fuckk-flightpath.” Humming approval through a mouthful of his cock, you lost yourself in the warm musk of his public hair. The metal zipper caught against your chin, grazing with every deep dive of the god into your throat. But you didn’t care. Loki’s gentle whines were all you could hear over the engines, panting praises and murmurs of lustful promises that you would hold him to when this thing landed. If it landed.

“Gods-” Loki choked, punctuated with a thump as his skull fell against the headrest. "How can you do this to me, Agent?” he gasped, rubbing your back as you quickened the pace. “You’re the best…” he moaned, hips rising to meet the bob of your jaw, “you’re the b-best I’ve ever had..I- uhh...”

The god’s fingertips dragged down your back, fist clenching and unfurling. He let out a primal grumble. “I’m going to cum, darling-” he growled. “Has anything c-changed?” You shook your head, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth and pooling in a wet patch on his chinos. Swallowing all the spit you could, you pressed your lips tighter around his girth, sucking furiously. Loki flinched with pleasure; and although you couldn’t see him, you knew his eyes were rolling back. You’d bet a few more of those slutty little curls had come loose too. Loki’s bucks were quicker now. He was trying to be restrained, but still his hips shuddered against the seat trying not to fuck your mouth with all his might. The Quinjet thrashed to the side, immediately correcting.

The god’s breaths were heavy, unintelligible filth falling from his lips and slithering into your ear as you worked him. "Good girl," he gasped, palm flying to the window my his side, "oh, f-fuck yes...good girl-vakker... just like, u-uh-" His palm slid down the window with an obscene squeak.

With a curse-littered groan, both of his arms went flying up behind the headrest. He pulled it forwards, the force of his abdomen’s clench pressing against your forehead. Loki’s hot cum hit the back of your tongue, filling your mouth with the sweet tang you craved. It kept coming, spreading into every pocket of space not occupied by his meat. His groans of pleasure filled the cockpit while you swallowed - pretty little moans snaking from his throat as he rode higher than the clouds.

Your lips left the tip of his flushed member with a slurp. Loki looked at you, dazed and slut-drunk. His seed glistened at the corners of your mouth as you squeezed his cock from the base a final time. A thick ream of cum blossomed at the opening. With one finger, you scooped it off, placing it carefully on the tip of your tongue.

“How I’ve missed you,” Loki slurred before his mouth was on yours.

You could feel his tongue search your own, tasting himself on each caress, swallowing the mess that you had made of him. Breaking apart, you took a moment to appreciate just how fucked-out Loki looked. The god’s cheeks were flushed, his lips raw and pink from rough kisses; his tied-up hair was askew, one side falling down in inky tendrils across his shoulder. The sweatshirt was rumpled, and there was a spreading wet patch on those lovely cream chinos. “How long do we have?” you asked, realising that you probably didn’t look much better. Loki’s eyes flickered to the screen. “Three minutes.” he said, disappointed. As Loki nailed a perfect landing, you made a final check of yourself in the window’s reflection. His knuckles trailed gently down your bicep. “I’ll see you inside?” he asked quietly. His pupils were still bottomless pools. “At your rooms,” you smiled, fighting to contain a laugh. “Not Scott’s.” Loki nodded agreement, lips curling. “I really did wait, you know.” he said. “I know.” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The two of you disembarked and Tony was waiting for the debrief exactly where you'd left him. He seemed happy with everything, by and large. But his arms remained folded. You began to make your way into the Tower. “Laufeyson. A word.” Tony barked. Loki rolled his eyes, subtly gesturing for you to go on ahead. “How’d you like her then? State of the art?” Stark hummed, gesturing to the Quinjet. Loki raised a brow. “It was perfectly fine.” Loki said. “Not ‘the best you’ve ever had’?” Tony slipped his sunglasses down his nose. Loki’s brow furrowed. “Cameras?” “Cameras,” Tony replied, tossing Loki the key-fob. “I’ll delete my evidence if you hop on back and delete your evidence with some of that magic-bleach. Deal?” “Deal.” Loki sighed.

Tags (cont in comments) @lokischambermaid @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @marygoddessofmischief @thevillainswhore @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

[phoenixyfriend]

Tony Stark & Natasha Romanova, now in Star Wars

IDK if you folks were ever MEGA into crossovers but did you ever engage with the kind that can more or less be summarized as "isekai but the person 'hit by truck-kun' is a character from a different canon?"

Because that's what this is.

Tony Stark isekai'd into Star Wars (random planet) after dying in Endgame. He knows the movies, but not the supplemental material, as even by the time TPM came out, he was thirty and fucked up and making a name for himself in war. Bad times.

Tony wakes up sixteen and with Nothing to his name but his skills. He does not speak the language. Mostly gets by doing shit like skinning potatoes for a kitchen and pulling weeds and whatnot while he catches up on Basic. (He is apparently fluent, or at least conversational, in French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, and Dari. So Basic would be his Seventh language, and while four of those can be lumped into 'if you learn one, the next will be easier,' Dari is wildly unrelated, so I'd say he could pick up Basic a bit faster than average, especially with 16yo brain elasticity.)

A toddler, two years old with intensely red hair, runs into his shins one day and yells his name very clearly. He looks down, is a little confused, and then a nearby carer from an orphanage jogs up yelling "Nat!" The toddler is Natasha Romanoff. She remembers everything, including dying, but is about twenty-five pounds soaking wet and NOBODY will take her seriously.

It takes some… effort, to explain the situation to the carer. Yes, Tony knows Nat. He worked with uh…. her 'older brother, a man named Clint.' Tony does not currently have the resources for anyone to legally give him custody of a toddler but he's got some motivation to secure housing and a stable income.

He does that. Gets Natasha with him because of course he has to do that. It's the one person he knows. It's Nat.

Turns out she's Force Sensitive, though. A 'natural extension' of her more skillgrinding abilities to read/manipulate people. Tony is not Force Sensitive but he DID recently have a medical episode that took him to a thankfully-government-funded clinic that informed him he has a Bad Heart and will require a pacemaker despite being seventeen.

A Jedi finds Nat while passing through and they Discuss Their Options. This is when Nat is about four. There is a heavy discussion about how her mind is older than her body, so the Jedi would need to be ready for that, but also Tony needs to discuss this with Nat, who was like thirty-nine(?) when she died and thus more than capable of making her own decisions.

Despite fandom generally painting Tony as the most selfish of the Avengers and Natasha as the most coldly practical, they are still heroes who put in some Fucking Effort to become better people, and they come to the conclusion that Natasha would do much more to help this galaxy as a Jedi than as some kid in poverty on a no-name planet. So off she goes!

She's like five years younger than Obi-Wan, the story reveals.

Tony is a bit aimless and the work he's BEEN doing (probably laying down electrical lines or something at this point, IDK, he got into construction or something) gets sideswept by Damage To A Tool. He knows how to fix the tool, but he does not have a forge.

There is a forge in town. He goes to it and says that he can't afford to ask to have it fixed, but he knows how to do it himself, so could he borrow access for a small fee?

This is a Mandalorian armorer. They say no. In fact, they tell him, that would be significantly more expensive than just getting it fixed.

Buuuuuuuuuut for Reasons, the armorer decides that Tony (now 18-19 physically) can do it so long as the Armorer supervises. Tony is competent Enough that the Armorer gives him a datapad and tells him to read it and come back in a week to discuss the topic. Tony warns that Basic is far from his first language and he doesn't have a whole lot of free time, so he probably won't have read it by then. That's fine, they'll just discuss what he has read.

It's about Mando culture, in a mildly propaganda-y way, and Tony comes back to Argue About Religion more than anything. He thinks the Armorer is proselytizing, which they kind of are, but they are also more than happy to discuss the lines between the Mando culture as ethnicity and culture and religion and so on.

This becomes a regular occurence. Tony has made A Friend who has started offering him a side gig doing Basic Village Blacksmith Work that the Armorer deems too menial, like "horse"shoes.

Tony is offered an apprenticeship that he did not expect, on the condition of Becoming Mandalorian.

This is. A heavy decision.

However. Tony is a guy who is at least partly defined by his cool armor. Mandalorians are defined by their cool armor. He has been told, several times, that there are multiple ways to be a Mandalorian. So he accepts, because he decides it's worth for the chance to be somebody who can make a difference in a way he currently can't.

Ten years later, 'Initiate Romanova' goes up to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as they prepare to leave, and neatly informs them that she has a feeling they are going to have a Bad Time on their mission in Mandalore, and that if they need emergency shelter from enemies, to go to an Armorer by the name of Tony Stark, because that's her brother so she knows that he's going to be friendly to Jedi. (Tony has sent her a small handful of messages, through channels both official and not, about big life events.)

Of course, shit hits the fan and the two plus Satine end up finding Tony's forge and he hides them in his Underground Bunker, which actually has a tunnel to a cave system that is safer than the bunker itself. Because reasons. (IN A CAVE. WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS.)

He has helper droids! They are named indirectly after friends from the Past Life, things like Spangles.

On their way back after the mission they swing by to say hi and he asks them to bring something to Natasha and it's a matryoshka doll set he made based on the Avengers (it goes based on age so the outermost is Thor, followed by I think Bruce, Rhodey, Tony, Clint, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vision), as well as a plushie he had custom made by somebody in town of a Bird With Archery Gear, even though she's too old for that stuff.

Even among the Jedi, Natasha is WEIRD and SERIOUS and everyone's pretty damn sure she's going to be a Shadow, or at least do a HECK of a lot of undercover work.

IDK how this plays out but Tony is definitely keeping an eye on politics so he can figure out the Palpatine rise to power and remind Natasha in case she's forgotten because when they first split they didn't, either of them, know what to expect in regards to her memory given the whole Baby Brain issue.

"Why is Tony an Armorer"

Okay some more thoughts!

I think Tony's aggressively atheist and consistently watching whoever claims to be Mand'alor with a critical eye in case he has to step in, and does not take any references to ka'ra with any real seriousness. That said. He's an Armorer now. A weird one who refuses like half his clients for Ethics Reasons, but technically a cultural authority figure who's allowed to argue with the Mand’alor.

@penpalpixie:

fsr the initial meeting scenario with the armorer bugs me,like would they really just let him" but tbf Tony knows how to steamroll people and could probably dissect the forge in an instant.

Which, yeah, in my defense, I put this together in about two hours so some of it's a bit wonk? BUT. @threebea had a good suggestion for how/why the Armorer had Tony actually do things in the forge instead of telling him to scram:

Maybe Tony has been doing some 'crafting' on the side maybe droid repairs or modifications which is how the Armorer first sort of hears about him and then one day there's the kid that people have been mentioning the Stars aligned here's a pamphlet. He can't make a living off gizmos in his situation since most of what Star wars has is advanced tech and to do anything impressive he would need more resources and more of an understanding of the mathematics of this universe (Stares at ceiling one night trying to figure out if the law of relativity would be a thing here). That might slow him down just like… his math doesn't actually work here so on top of language he would have to learn things to do complicated stuff that he could already buy for a credit. But with armory it's concepts he knows well and adding weapons to armor especially no lethal ones is something he also knows. Mandalorian armor with UNI BEAM

When it comes to canon, he knows THE big thing (Palpatine is Sidious) and basically nothing else. He thinks he remembers the clones being Mando? but he's honestly not even sure he remembers the original Fett's first name correctly. He knows the guy is a Fett, because Boba was a cultural mainstay for Tony's childhood, so like, it was nice to have some backstory, but he's honestly not sure how likely "that baby Mand'alor that went missing" is to being Boba's plot-relevant dad. Could be an uncle for all he knows, or just a guy with the same last name.

@firebirdeternal:

I feel like to keep things fair Tony should be able to scale up a little harder than the average Mandalorian. Yeah all his tech knowledge is a bit out-dated and he isn't likely to get an arc reactor running in a way that'll be more powerful than anything locally available, but I feel like he'd adapt pretty darn quickly to available tech and start Improving Things Nat's skills all translate extremely well, once she's not got stumpy toddler body she's basically back to her old level PLUS telekinesis and wibbly force nonsense although I understand if that's also not the focus of the fic, being less "And now there's some Avengers Here (Powerset)" and more "And now there's some Avengers Here (Attitudes and Characters)"

Nat is very excited to Break Into Tony's Cave.

NGL this was initially going to be a Tony Raises Nat thing but I couldn't ultimately justify her NOT going the Jedi route after I realized I wanted her to be Sensitive.

There was also a discarded plot idea about her being a little older and having gone undercover in death watch, because Tony got kidnapped to work for them and got through to her, where she gets to use her Bites as a teen but I scrapped it.

I do think she successfully argues to her Master to visit him at 14 to get light armor though.

Nat's the sneakiest little initiate and also. Very, very controlled in the scary way during spars.

Bea:

Natasha as a Jedi is so good. Like, she would probably have a bit of dissonance between Jedi training and the training she received as a child, and it might help her work through some things. Nat: I've known Yoda for three days but if anything happened to him I would kil-- wait uh (pivots) I would be very sad. She would try to sneak up on council members. It is like a kitten stalking a cat on the outside, but also she's a grown woman and wants to be that good. (AU of this If Quinlan ever saw this he'd adopt her: Quinlan: Tholme I found a new padawan sister. Get training Tholme: [literally just finished with Quinlan. Had planned to take a vacation. Meditate. Drink. He loves his kid but needs literally a moment here] Tholme: She's seven. Quinlan: I was four. Tholme: … Quinlan: She has a secret tragic background toooo I know you like that 😄 Tholme: [Sigh] Nat: …wait is he supposed to be Sherlock Holmes. I think he's space Sherlock Holmes. Need to ask Tony if Star Wars had Sherlock Holmes? lol yeah Tholme just feels like he could blend well with an avengers story, and a Black Widow story in particular)

Not joking when I say I considered if I could squeeze Tholme into the timeline.

Tony sends her music files that he thinks sounds Particularly Ballet to her because he remembers how much she liked dancing, as the main or even only positive thing from her Red Room training, and how she once said that if she hadn't become a spy, she thinks she'd have liked to be a ballerina.

The first time they see each other in person in years is her visiting for baby armor at 14 and is hesitant to hug him because like. Yeah he's her "brother" and there were a few years where they were acting as such and he was helping her with Basic Tasks that she doesn't like to think about too much because it's embarrassing, and they cuddled THEN, because she was Physically Baby, but they're just coworkers in reality, right? Should she hug him? If only to sell the bit to her Jedi Master?

Tony is also not the most huggy person and isn't sure if HE should hug Nat because he remembers jokey stabbing threats from when they were Avengers and like. Does she still feel that way, now that she's not a bumbling like tot?

They are both unsure of if hugging is on the table and it's the Jedi Master who says "you know, you're allowed to hug, if you want" under the impression that they aren't sure if the Jedi would allow it. And then the hug is very tight and loving because at least subconsciously they DID both want that.

The Jedi Master takes a pic.

Bea:

Jedi master: (aw) It's one of those "we've been in life or death situations together and also grew up together kinda sorta and also we're trauma bonded," and the first opportunity to solidify Family as their dynamic they both jump in feet first. And both of them were like. Extremely lonely children probably. In different ways but still.

(It's why the Hawkeye plushie didn't make her CRY, per se, but she does start keeping it in her bed even though she's Too Old for these things.)

When it comes to hugging, Nat is understandably concerned about overstepping and like. "Taking" Morgan's place. (I'm going with Tony and Nat being friends (or at least friendly) from A1 to A2, and during the blip she stopped by for dinner once in a while. Nat doing her best to bring Child Appropriate Gifts for Morgan (she misses being Aunt Nat for the Barton kids).) Or as Bea put it: Tony: Are you spying on me or are we doing people things? Nat: Can't it be both?

Anyway, their dynamic is a weird little midpoint once they're in Star Wars but then they get to a point in the armor making where Tony takes a break on a bench and she slips in under his arm to cuddle and it's just Nice (even though he's kinda sweaty and gross from the blacksmithing).

Bea:

Tony: ….. so……. is Yoda… does he look like… is he…. Nat: …???? Tony: You saw the Muppets right? Is he still a Muppet? Nat: [totally has seen the Muppets] what's a Muppet? Tony: You're killing your brother, Nat ;A;

Also the comedy of having MULTIPLE "secret languages" that nobody can translate.

It's handy, too. Between her and Tony, but also lots of languages to give different uses to. Can teach one to a specific faction for communication. OH, the poor Threepio units! She got stuck in a room with one once, and don't get my wrong, they can pick up a language fast, but they need to hear long enough sampling of it. Nat: I'm not teaching you stop asking I do agree too that Tony and Nat no matter their circumstances would be working towards stopping Palpatine. Like is this a real space is this a dream is this another dimension that just happens to be like a movie in ours? Doesn't matter the dictator is going down.

The Jedi Master is somewhat aware of the whole 'used to be an adult, sort of' thing. I don't know that they believe she's linearly matured but probably they think it's something like what I did in Jedi Babies It's definitely more explicit with a mind healer she got assigned soon after arrival.

She didn't decide whether to play it straight and "get help" or just try to game the system until she was actually sitting down. But she'd been having screaming night terrors about things she experienced in her first life, so.

Pixie:

She meets Anakin after TPM (if it's not avoided) when Obi-Wan's trying to settle him in and goes "ah, I know how to handle this kid." At some point Anakin and Tony end up sending each other various schematics.

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[softgreengrass]

I’ll Survive

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: happy then sad then happy, requested, supersoldier!r but it’s not relevant to plot

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: death, grief

A/N: thanks for the request!

You and Natasha are in the gym when FRIDAY calls a meeting.

“Come on, is that all you got?” she grins, leaning into the punching bag with all her weight.

You fire a few more jabs, and her feet slip back a little. Sweat rolls down your forehead.

“Attention, all,” FRIDAY’s voice rings out. “Mission briefing in the conference room. 10 minutes.”

You don’t stop your barrage of punches, your eyes locked onto the Avengers logo in the center of the bag.

“You sure you’re ready to get back into it?” Natasha asks.

You’ve been coming off of an injury for a few months now. Bad intel, a trap, a bullet straight through your femur — being on bedrest was your seventh circle of hell.

Instead of answering, you wind your fist back and hit the bag hard enough to send it flying across the room, taking Natasha with it. She slams against the wall and laughs.

You wipe your face with a towel before walking over and kicking the bag away from her. “Sorry.”

“Super soldiers,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You offer her a hand. She takes it, rising to her feet, and leans into your chest. Butterflies shoot through your stomach.

“You sure you’re ready?” she asks softly.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes flick down to your lips, and you pull her into a slow kiss. Her hands find the back of your neck, lace through your hair. It only lasts a few seconds before she swipes her foot behind your leg and shoves your shoulders hard.

You land flat on your back with a groan.

“10 minutes, killer,” she smirks. “And don’t ever do that again.”

You’re the last one in the conference room, and there are no seats left around the table. Cap shoots you a disapproving glance as you close the door behind you.

“Hope no one made any weekend plans,” Cap clears his throat. “Because we’re heading to Russia.”

Tony groans obnoxiously. “Come on, really?”

The holographic screen suspended above the table turns on, showing the floor plans of the Kremlin. Everyone falls silent.

“This isn’t a villain of the week, guys,” Steve sighs. “Hell, it’s not even HYDRA.”

You whistle, and Rhodey glares at you.

“As far as we can tell, the Russian government is doing this entirely of their own accord. The only one pulling the strings is Putin.”

“What are they doing?” Clint asks, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to put nukes in space.” Steve presses his clicker and the screen shows the earth and a dozen orbits around it. “That’s a one-way ticket to world war three.”

“And you want us to, what, eat the nukes?” Tony asks.

Cap clenches his jaw. “The Department of Defense wants us to make sure they don’t launch. My plan makes sure Putin won’t ever get the chance to.”

“You want to assassinate him?” Natasha asks quickly.

Steve faces her. “I want you to.”

Your eyes meet Natasha’s through the projection, and you swallow.

“He’s gotta be the most well-protected guy on the planet,” Bruce says.

“That’s a suicide mission!” Clint cries.

“Which is why we’re all going,” Steve says, in that authoritative old man tone that shuts everyone up. “Banner’s right. It’s going to take all of us just to get a chance.”

“Pretty sure assassinating the Russian president is an act of war,” you say. “Number two in command is just gonna send those nukes up and point them straight at the Pentagon.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Then they turn towards Steve.

“Which is why I have a plan,” he says firmly.

You don’t like it one bit. Not one bit. Natasha, undercover for two weeks without comms. Clint posing as a diplomat. The rest of you hunkered underground, waiting for the right moment to invade the Kremlin. It’s almost recklessly risky. And yet, Steve has his full faith in it, which means the rest of you do too.

That night, Natasha holds onto you tightly. She’s terrified to go back there, regardless of what she says. It’s worse than going after one cell, or even the Red Room itself. It’s the man behind the curtain who’s been controlling it all.

“It’s going to go fine,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you further into her.

“It is,” you say. You take her hands and press them into your sternum. You’d only succeeded in being the big spoon a couple times — never when she was stressed. So you stare at the wall. “I mean it.”

“Me too,” her breath fans against the back of your neck. “We’ve done harder things before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you exhale. “I mean, aliens? AI? Bruce when he’s hungry?”

She laughs, and that eases some of the pressure on your heart. “Worst case, I’ll survive.”

“You always do.”

“I always do,” she smiles. “And best case, I take care of him, you get rid of the cabinet, and Steve slides in his new leader. And we get out of there and go to… I don’t know. The Dominican Republic.”

“The Dominican Republic?”

“Why not?” she kisses your shoulder. “A vacation. Moscow’ll be a pretty intense way to get back into the action. You’ll deserve a break.”

“I’ve been on a break for three months,” you snort.

“Oh come on, you don’t want a piña colada? Palm trees? White sand beaches?”

“Well when you put it like that,” you say, turning around to face her. “I guess we could go to the Dominican Republic.”

She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Promise?”

You could stare into the green of her eyes forever. “Promise.”

Not three weeks later, you sit staring at a computer screen in a bunker a hundred feet below Red Square. Tony sits to your left. There’s no point in watching the feed, since all of the cameras are outside of the Kremlin and Natasha walked in an hour ago, but you can’t help it. You feel powerless.

For ten days, Natasha has been Alina Konstantinovna Petrova, a middle-aged politician who just got back from a stint in Belarus. When she emerged wearing the nanotech mask for the first time, you genuinely didn’t recognize her. Her voice, her gait, her mannerisms — all changed. Sometimes you forget she’s the world’s greatest spy.

But with no comms and no tracker, all you have is your faith in that fact. Just your trust in her.

If she’s on schedule, she should be having tea with the Prime Minister, but really she could be anywhere, doing anything. There’s absolutely no way for you to know.

“You know,” Wanda sighs, tipping back in her office chair and tossing a tennis ball into the air. “I don’t think all of us had to be here.”

“Agreed,” Tony grumbles. “I was supposed to be at a gala right now.”

“Do you think-”

“Quiet!” Steve orders, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “Do you see that? Is that smoke?”

You lean closer. It is smoke, pouring out of a second-floor window, and it makes your stomach drop.

Steve taps into the emergency comms in Clint’s ear. “Is there a fire? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Clint’s voice replies, hushed. “I don’t know, they put us into a ballroom. I don’t know where she is.”

“Shit,” Steve mutters.

“What do we do?” you ask, rising to your feet.

Steve grimaces. “If… if we make contact now, she won’t have a shot. It’ll all be for nothing.”

“The Kremlin isn’t usually on fire,” you snap.

“I’m sure she can handle it,” he glares back. His voice is dangerously quiet when he speaks again. “She knows what’s on the line here.”

But five minutes later, the smoke hasn’t stopped. It’s spread. Clint and the other diplomats are being evacuated.

You keep your eyes glued to the feed, scanning for Alina Petrova’s face among the crowd. She never emerges, but neither do the Prime Minister or cabinet. Maybe there’s a hidden exit.

Just when it seems like the fire is coming under control and the chaos is cooling, the cameras cut out.

You rush for the exit immediately, Tony and Steve right on your heels. Your entire body goes numb as you climb the ladder.

It’s probably fine, you think, hands squeezing the rungs too tight. The fire burned a power line, or the government stopped the footage to protect their image. She’s fine. She’s fine.

You heave the manhole cover out of place with your shoulder, hoisting yourself onto the street and ignoring the pedestrians who stare at you.

It’s absolute pandemonium. There’s a crater where half of the Kremlin used to be, and the other half is engulfed in flames. You sprint towards it.

Steve immediately shouts after you, but all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears.

Maybe there’s a hidden exit. She had to have noticed the fire, she would’ve escaped, she would’ve made it out. She would’ve.

The police that are always stationed around the Kremlin make a border around it, though no one except you is trying to go towards the burning building.

“Ostanavis’!” they yell, but you hurdle their makeshift barricade.

If she was on schedule, she would’ve been on the east side, top floor. The heat doesn’t even register in your mind.

You root through rubble as fast as you can, barely noticing when Wanda and Steve join you in your search. Smoke stings your eyes and fills your lungs until you can barely choke out a breath.

There are heaps of ash that might’ve once been people, might’ve once been Natasha.

You climb trembling supports to get to the second floor: there are bones there, even fragments of medals and jewelry. The farther you get from the crater the less charred the bodies become. But you can only get so close to the live blaze, and none of the bodies are hers. The skin on your hands begins to blister from red-hot ash and metal.

At some point Steve pulls you away, ignores the way you claw at him and scream that you won’t leave her. The three of you (Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey had been wise enough to run away from flaming wreckage) end up in a Russian prison, charged as enemies of the state responsible for the fire and ensuing blast.

By the time the Department of Defense negotiates you out, you’ve convinced yourself that Natasha must’ve escaped. There’s no other option. She couldn’t die. If you didn’t find her, she couldn’t have been there. She must’ve gotten out.

But when you walk into SHIELD’s Moscow base, she isn’t there. It’s only Fury and Clint.

“Where is she?” you ask, rushing towards them. Everyone else seems to slip out of the room.

Fury’s eyes stay trained on you, swimming with something you don’t want to decipher. Your heart pounds against your chest

“Where is she?”

“She’s dead,” Clint says, his voice raw.

“No,” you respond immediately. “No, she isn’t.”

He closes his eyes.

No. You see a flash of her smile, of the jacket she loved. You feel the ghost of her touch on your face.

“I thought she faked it,” Fury says after a moment. “But… we made a deal a few years ago. If one of us faked it again we’d leave something behind so the other would know. A ring.”

You’ve never heard his voice so weak before. Somehow it’s scarier than anything else.

“But there was no ring,” he clears his throat. “Just this.”

He holds out his hand, opens it. The necklace you gave Natasha last year is bunched up on his palm, dark with soot. Your knees almost give out. She never takes it off, not to sleep or train or go undercover. She would never leave it behind.

Reality dawns on you like an awful black wave. Natasha is dead.

“I’m sorry,” Fury says, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can’t feel it. Every breath, every blink is manual now, every movement an act of will.

Worst case, I’ll survive.

You just want to hug her again. Just see her face one more time, knowing it’ll be the last. Suddenly a deep red rage fills your vision, and your muscles twitch to strangle whoever set the fire, whoever planted the bomb.

“There was no body?” you ask hoarsely. You can’t tear your eyes from the necklace.

Fury shakes his head. “Ash.”

A lump forms in your throat that won’t leave for weeks. You feel like you’re looking at everything through frosted glass, frozen in the moments that you just held. It’s like you’ve been caught in a spiderweb.

You don’t cry until you set foot inside her room at the compound. Everything is just how she left it, like she just stepped out. Like she’ll come back any second now.

The covers on her bed are rumpled.

You can’t wrap your kind around the fact that she could be gone, vanished into thin air, reduced to dust. That she’ll never touch anything again. You sit down on the floor and hug your knees.

For a few days you don’t eat; you don’t speak for longer. The gaping hole in your chest churns and twists in an agonizing way. Every night you dream of refusing Steve’s plan, or going up as soon as you saw the smoke, or doing anything except sitting idly while she burned alive.

You’re at Steve’s throat often enough that Tony kicks you both out of the compound. It’s not like either of you are of use, anyways. The others manage to channel their sorrow into work. You don’t.

Clint takes time off, too. Laura manages to convince you it’ll be good.

But with nothing to distract you, you feel the pain of every passing moment. Every minute that you get older and she doesn’t. You don’t want to have to think of a life without her in it.

Weeks or months into your dull gray blur of a life, someone knocks on your door. You hope it’s not Steve. You don’t know if it’s the season, but you could spring for a box of Thin Mints.

It’s not a girl scout. It’s Natasha.

Your eyes go wide; your face pales. Nanotech mask? Clone? “A-Are you real?”

She wheezes out your name, keeps her hands clutched to her side.

“Is it really you?” you ask, your eyes welling with tears and your hands trembling as you reach out to touch her.

“I missed you,” she breathes, her eyes roaming your face.

She has a black eye and a split lip. It’s her. You drink in the green of her eyes and the red of her hair and the softness of her face and you can’t keep the sobs from escaping. She crashes into your arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She smells like sweat and home.

Natasha is crying too, shaking, her face hidden in your chest. You close your eyes and tilt your head down to rest your lips on her head.

“You’re hurt,” you say when you remember how to speak.

She pulls away and kisses you deeply. It feels like God blessing you, even if it tastes like blood. She’s real. You don’t let go of her until she gently pushes you away.

“We should go inside,” she whispers.

You’re in a daze for half an hour, while you wrap her ribs and bandage the gash on her arm. She doesn’t leave your gaze for one second. When you’re finally satisfied that she won’t drop dead, you collapse onto the couch next to her.

She climbs on top of you, pulls you close.

“They were onto me,” she murmurs into your hair. “I had to escape, I couldn’t let them think I was alive.”

Anger roars in your chest. “I’m not losing you again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill them,” you growl, wrapping your arms around her securely.

“I’ll help,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “They’re probably coming here.”

“You were followed?”

“I wanted to see you,” she sighs. “I didn’t take all the precautions.”

You laugh and bury your face into the crook of her neck. “You think we can go to the Dominican Republic after?”

“I’ll break up with you if we don’t.”

[book-place]

The Avoiding Act

Warnings: unhealthy studying methods, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Avengers x reader platonic

Request: Hey! Can you do MCU x Teen!reader, whose been feeling stressed out lately (I have exams coming up) and she also struggles with mental health. She constantly avoids the team because she knows they'll tell her to sit down and take a break, but one day they forcefully make her sit down and talk to them, and they're all telling her to take it easy and that they believe in her or something, and she's starts tearing up because she's never had anyone tell her reassuring things before she met the team, and one of them (preferably Bucky, Loki, Tony, or Steve) just hugs them? And like they end up watching Disney movies or something, and she falls asleep on Tony or Steve? Thank you!

Requested by: @wolfmoonmusic

*not my gif*

Summary: Your team hasn’t really seen you in over a week, and they start to grow worried

A/N: This isn’t my best work- but I don’t think it’s too bad; also I wrote this forever ago and just forgot to publish it

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

You practically had it down to a point by now. You had memorized your entire team's schedule in such a way that you could avoid them perfectly.

Steve was using the training levels at exactly 5:05 every morning, being the first one up- besides you. That was easy, just avoid all of the workout rooms. Bucky was sometimes up at that time as well, but he just stayed in his room.

Up next was Nat and Bruce. Nat would start off her day on the balcony of either her room or the one connected to the living room. Bruce would make a beeline for his lab right away and hide in there for a while. So naturally, you just skipped out on all three of those places.

That’s when it got complicated. The late sleepers were Sam, Tony, and Clint. Meaning, their schedules were unpredictable. But that was only in the sense that you didn’t know which time they would get up. All three of them would head straight to the kitchen as soon as they got up though, so all you had to do was make sure that you weren’t in there any later than 10:00.

That left your room, which you never stayed in because then they would be able to find you, and any other of the many empty rooms left in Avengers Tower.

Some might call you paranoid, but you made sure to switch rooms every two hours, that way you weren’t in one place long enough for them to find you there.

The reason you were avoiding your team?

It wasn’t becuase you didn’t want to see them or loved them dearly, it was simply becuase you needed to study.

To outsiders, that would seem like a weird reason to be hiding from your loved ones, but not when it came to you.

When you studied, you studied.

You hardly ever took breaks- not even to eat and sleep.

And if your team knew this, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that they would try to make you take a break. To take care of yourself.

You couldn’t have that happening, the biggest exam of the year was in three days and taking a break was not an option.

It was a day like any other in the past week, you were in a random conference room on the seventh floor, going on the eighth day without seeing your team for more than five minutes a day.

Like normal, you were hunched over a textbook, eyes sweeping back and forth along the pages as you eagerly tried to take in any bit of knowledge you could come upon.

It was well past dinner- not that you had eaten other than a granola bar early in the morning before the late risers made it to the kitchen- and your team, six floors up, were sitting around one of the many living rooms.

“So you’re telling me that nobody saw Y/N today?” Steve asked, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows creased with worry.

Clint and Sam shook their heads in sync from their respective positions on the couch in front of him. Bucky, who was leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed, repeated the gesture.

Nat and Tony both let out identical signs at this, the redhead running a hand through her hair.

“It’s been like this all week,” Bruce spoke up, concern lacing his tone, “I’ve hardly seen her for more than two minutes a day. Whenever I try to find her- she’s not anywhere I’d think she would be.”

“Same,” Natasha piped up, “It’s almost like she’s avoiding us.”

“You don’t think… she’s actually avoiding us, do you?” Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Steve ran a hand down his face and sighed, “Why would she avoid us, though?”

Even Tony had the decency not to interject with one of his normal, snide comments. Instead, he announced, “JARVIS, tell me where she is.”

The team's eyes all widened in sync, clearly none of them had once thought of using the AI system to find you.

Instead of boasting about how he was just smarter than they were like Tony normally would, he just kept his lips in a thin, closed line and awaited the answer.

“Miss. L/N is currently occupying conference room number seventy two, on the sixth floor.” JARVIS’s voice rang out through the room, and everyone was on their feet in an instance.

Within the last week, every one of them had gone out of their way to try and look for you, never knowing where you were or if you were alright.

The door to your study room flew open and you let out a small yelp of surprise, jumping at the unanticipated arrival of every member of your team.

It was silent for a moment after they all pushed and shoved past each other to stumble into the room, as you all just stared at each other.

“O-oh, hey guys,” You stuttered, letting out a small, nervous chuckle, “What’re you doing here?”

“Why’ve you been avoiding us?” Sam blurted out without answering your question.

Multiple people face palmed and let out slight groans at his bluntness. Bucky- who was standing closest to him- slapped him upside the head. With his metal hand.

That had to hurt.

The question immediately made you defensive, and you crossed your arms, visually crawling back into your shell.

“I’m not avoiding you,” The words weren’t as firm as you would’ve liked.

“No?” Tony asked with a singular raised eyebrow, “Then why have we only seen you for five minutes in total this week?”

You shrugged, “I’ve been busy!”

“Busy doing what?” Clint prompted.

That was when you fell silent.

Your team didn’t say anything, though. They just kept staring, awaiting your reply.

The silence dragged and dragged, suffocating the room and everyone in it until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Studying,” You finally said softly.

Another silence followed, but this one was broken by Bruce, “And how many breaks have you taken to take care of yourself?”

They all knew you so well, they knew what your study habits were like. How unhealthy they were.

You shrugged stiffly, moving your eyes to face anywhere but where they stood.

“N/n,” Nat sighed, moving over to you, “You need to take care of yourself. This isn’t healthy.”

Steve moved up beside her, watching as you still avoided looking at any of them, tears filling your eyes, “We only say this because we care about you.”

His words were what finally made the first tear slip down your face.

“I know,” You whispered.

With a sigh, Steve opened his arms and wrapped them around you in a much needed hug.

Almost instantly, you broke down, relaxing in his arms and crying and crying until there were no tears left.

Someone from around you gently moved a piece of hair out of your face and someone else rubbed your back comfortingly.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surrounded by your team- the people that cared for you more than anyone- who all wore soft expressions.

“Let’s take a break,” Steve whispered, stopping down to place a kiss on the top of your head, “You deserve it.”

Sniffling slightly, you nodded and allowed your team to lead you away and to one of the living rooms.

Tony had announced that you would all be having a movie night and you would be the one to pick what to watch.

Normally, there would be a lot fighting and bickering about what movie- but nobody said a word this time.

Some went off to get snacks- others getting blankets- as you all spread out around the room comfortably.

You ended up between Steve and Nat on the couch, the ladder absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair whilst you picked what you wanted to watch.

In the end, you settled on an old Disney classic, and we’re able to settle in while the opening music began to play.

“Thank you, guys.” You said softly to the room, truly meaning it.

“No need to thank us, n/n. We’re here for you. No matter what.” Steve said from beside you.

By the time the credits rolled around, you were fast asleep, breathing steadily with your head resting against Steve’s shoulder.

Said man smiled down softly at you, making sure to keep his movements to a minimum as you got some much needed sleep, surrounded by your loved ones.

We are Groot 🤎- @lovanitu @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @irethepotato @femalemarvelself @mukbee @its-hell @ip747 @i-writes-things @popfishjr @mitsuki-murakami @mythixmagic @toecrust69 @etanordoesbullsh1t @wolfmoonmusic @nutellani @hyunzrii @scarthefangirl

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (2/?)

Summary: A continuation of this (You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell). Now that Wanda has offered to share her room, things get... a bit complicated.

Chapter word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Wanda catches you in a very compromising position, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Series Masterlist

-

Sharing a room with Wanda Maximoff is not as trivial as it sounds.

The first night, her bed seems almost too big, especially for two people who don't know each other very well. Throughout the night, you’re acutely conscious of every movement, ensuring that you remain on your designated side, even if it means dangling one leg off the bed for balance.

On the second night, after realizing she'd unknowingly snuggled up to you during her sleep, she suggests putting a pillow in the middle–kind of like a boundary, you guess. The two of you share a light-hearted chuckle over the idea, yet a rosy hue stubbornly lingers on both your faces until one of you eventually heads out for breakfast.

Nights turn into mornings and that big bed starts feeling, well, not so big anymore. You both take to this pillow-in-the-middle setup, treating it like some sort of teddy bear you both have a claim to. It becomes an unspoken agreement, almost like a cozy buffer that you both secretly enjoy. Both of you would hold onto it, sometimes playfully tugging it toward your side.

On the seventh day, shortly after midnight, you feel a subtle shift as Wanda’s fingers, which were draped over the pillow, find their way to your waist. It's just a slight touch, but it sends your senses into overdrive. And as the fog of drowsiness lifts, you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you two.

The covers, which up until now felt just right, suddenly start to feel oppressively warm. Turning your head slightly, you can make out the silhouette of her face, bathed in the soft light filtering through the curtains. You're struck by the details—the curve of her cheek, the demure slope of her nose, her slightly parted lips. She's mesmerizing. You feel an undeniable urge to reach out and touch, to feel the softness of her skin, but you resist. 

You think about shifting her hand back onto the pillow, but then, there's this part of you, perhaps the bolder side, that wants it to stay there. So, you let it stay, taking shallow breaths, hoping your racing heart doesn't wake her up.

You pull the covers tighter around you, trying to shake the thoughts, but it's no use. 

All you can think about is the girl sleeping soundly beside you, and the night stretches on endlessly ahead.

-

You were supposed to get your own room, but honestly? It's taking a while, and you're not even sure you want it anymore.

There's something about Wanda's nighttime habits that you've come to love: the way she snores just a bit, the way some of her things would rattle around her when she’s having an intense dream, the scent of her shampoo when she washes her hair before bed, the subtle movements she makes when you know she has a hard time falling asleep. 

And there's that special moment each morning: You always seem to stir just moments before her. Like clockwork, her eyes flutter open, and in that half-awake daze, she’d murmur a “Good morning.” 

Yet, as this unexpected cohabitation with Wanda unfolds, a nagging thought keeps pricking at the back of your mind:

This delightful domestic bubble has an expiration date.

You know you shouldn't get too attached. But you're probably way past that now.

-

Which is why, to seemingly guard yourself, you pester Steve at dinner. 

“So, Steve, any word on my room?” you casually drop the question one evening, trying to keep the tone light. Across the table, Wanda's attention diverts from her lasagna to the conversation at hand, silently watching the exchange.

Steve, looking a tad weary, responds, “Honestly? I'm not sure. And you've brought this up, what, three times today?”

“Maybe if Tony actually replied to my messages, we wouldn't be having this chat every mealtime,” you argue, mindlessly twirling your fork around your pasta.

Before Steve can retort, Wanda intervenes. “If you're worried about overstaying in my space, you haven't. It's been...nice, having you there.”

Your cheeks flame up, a quick surge of heat that’s impossible to ignore. The sudden candidness in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, you're tongue-tied, searching for a response. She, too, seems taken aback by her own candor, her eyes widening a fraction.

“I-I mean, I don't mind…” she says, trying to recover from her prior lapse. She then diverts her attention, a little flustered, burying herself in her plate.

“Maybe we can set up a rota? You know, split the week between Natasha and Wanda's rooms?” Steve suggests.

From across the table, Natasha halts, shawarma in hand, and deadpans, “Since when was my room up for discussion?”

Your focus, however, remains fixed on Wanda. “It's not about that, Wanda,” you reply earnestly. “It’s just... we all need our space, right?”

Something shifts in Wanda's eyes, a flicker of disappointment perhaps, but before you can fully process it, she masks it with indifference. “I'm sorry,” she murmurs, starting to collect her plate with only a few bites missing from her lasagna. “I thought you were in a rush because of... well, me.”

You stare at her, momentarily stunned, with a growing urge to apologize. The dinner table suddenly feels miles long. 

Clearing your throat, you muster, “Wanda, it's not like that.”

She pauses, looking back at you, waiting. 

“I just thought it might be easier for both of us,” you say, cringing as the words don't quite capture your intended sentiment.

Her face tightens further, her demeanor chilling by several degrees. “You're right,” she replies, voice sharp and edged. “It might be easier for you.” 

Without another word, she stands up and leaves.

In the aftermath of Wanda's exit, an oppressive silence descends, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of cutlery on porcelain. Vision, always a touch out of step with human nuances, arches an eyebrow at Bucky. “Is there a particular reason the air's grown so dense?”

Before Bucky can answer, Natasha leans back, shooting you a pointed look. 

“By the way,” she drawls, pausing for emphasis. “My room has an exclusive guest list. Only one name on it–mine,” she says and then nonchalantly bites at her meat wrap, clearly having said her piece.

The room's temperature seems to further drop another few degrees following Natasha's remark. Steve shoots you a sympathetic glance while Bucky suppresses a smirk, amused at the drama unfolding.

Trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back, Sam quips, “Well, at this rate, I might start charging for bunking in my room. Any takers?”

You can't help but force a chuckle, silently thanking him for the attempt to lighten the mood. However, Wanda's departure and Natasha’s dry humor leave you pondering whether sharing a room might have been the better option after all.

-

For two nights straight, you avoid the Avenger's compound. 

Instead, you dip into your personal savings from past missions, booking yourself into a plush hotel downtown. The suite boasts modern amenities and a bed that critics might describe as 'a cloud'. 

Yet, for all its luxury, it feels...empty.

The Egyptian cotton sheets, while soft to the touch, are cold. The lavish bathroom, with its marble counters, feels too sterile. The room, while spacious, feels too silent. Deafeningly so.

Gone are the soft snores, the slight movement of a shared bed, and the comforting scent of Wanda's evening shampoo. All replaced by a void that no amount of luxury can fill. Your heart aches, not for the lack of comfort, but for the lack of connection.

(The lack of a… friend. Maybe after nights of sleeping side by side, it’s fair to think of her as such.)

And as another sleepless night passes in the hotel, you find yourself wishing for the simplicity of that pillow barrier, the steady rhythm of Wanda's breathing, and the tender sound of her voice whispering, “Good morning.”

It's high time to step out of this lavish prison and head back to the compound. 

More importantly, it's time to apologize to Wanda, something you should've done in the first place.

-

Pushing open the door to Wanda's room, you anticipate her familiar, mischievous smirk. Instead, a deafening silence surrounds you. The only telltale sign of her absence is the disarray of her belongings, possibly from prepping for an unexpected mission.

You have been looking forward to seeing her all day, unsure if she'd even welcome you back. Just as you consider heading elsewhere to find her, Vision suddenly steps out from a room further down the corridor.

“Wanda’s not here,” you state rather than ask.

“She's still in the debriefing room. The mission ran long, and discussions have been... extensive,” Vision offers, his head tilt subtle but noticeable, making you very much aware of his ability to read more than just your face.

You run a hand through your hair, weary. “Any idea how much longer?”

He seems to ponder, “At the rate they’re going? An hour, maybe more.”

The day's exhaustion settles on you, making your skin feel sticky and tired. You reason that perhaps Wanda might be more inclined to speak with you if you're freshened up and smelling good. With this thought, you let out a soft sigh, nodding in gratitude to Vision. 

Slipping back into Wanda’s room and absentmindedly neglecting to lock the door, you dive into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up, welcoming its brisk, invigorating sting against your tired skin. It’s surprisingly intimate to be using Wanda's products again after days without them, and you try not to think about how it all feels a bit... like home.

Several minutes later, wrapped in a towel with droplets still clinging to your skin, you pad over to your side of the bed. The damp cold from your hair seeping through the towel sends a chill down your spine, but the softness of Wanda's sheets beckon. You can't resist the temptation any longer and, with a soft thud, you flop down.

The moment you sink into the mattress, Wanda's familiar scent envelops you, a comforting blend of jasmine and something uniquely her. Closing your eyes, you realize just how much you've missed her–not just the shared bed or the late-night whispers, but the girl herself. 

The heart of it all.

Every thought of Wanda makes your heartbeat a tad bit faster. Your skin, slightly damp from the shower, feels hypersensitive against the silky sheets that smell so much like her. Every thread seems to graze your skin, reminding you of the presence you're currently missing.

Your thoughts start to shift, moving past innocent interactions you’ve had with Wanda so far. You’re now wondering if Wanda ever touched herself in this very same bed. If her fingers have lazily brushed against her core to thoughts of you, the way you’re doing now to thoughts of her. You wonder if she likes to tease herself, if she likes to pay attention to her clit or prefers to stuff herself with her own fingers.

You pull a pillow close, not just as a makeshift barrier, but as an anchor to steady the rush of arousal coursing through your body. But instead of calming you down, it sends you over the edge and deeper into your unchecked desires. The pillow is no longer just a fluffy companion; it becomes a stand-in for her–for Wanda.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not on the bed that belongs to the woman you’re imagining as you throw a leg over the unsuspecting pillow. In the midst of your internal conflict, your thighs still part to welcome the plush material as you’re about to lose all sense of control. 

But the universe seems to have its own way of snapping you out of questionable choices. 

Just as you're about to succumb to the overwhelming sensations, the door slams open. With a startled yelp, you topple off the bed, the towel that's your only semblance of decency barely holding on. The pillow, now a poor victim to your previous intentions, gets clutched to your chest in a frantic attempt to salvage some dignity.

There, framed in the doorway, is Wanda. Her eyes wide, an unreadable expression on her face. You've never wished for the ground to swallow you up more than you do in this mortifying moment. Your face heats up, unsure if you could ever look Wanda in the eyes again after this. 

And just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, she speaks.

“Um... did I interrupt something?” Wanda asks, her voice teetering between amusement and genuine curiosity. She's trying, and failing, to hide a smirk.

You, on the other hand, are a mess of jumbled words and embarrassment. “I- I was just... It's not what it looks like,” you say, but the evidence around you paints a pretty distinct picture.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “Really? Because from here, it looks pretty... interesting.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow for a moment, the very one that betrayed you. “Can we just forget this ever happened?”

She chuckles, her earlier tension from the debriefing room (and the tension with you from days earlier) seeming to melt away in the face of your predicament. “Oh, I'm not sure I can. It's not every day I find someone... bonding with my pillow in such a way.”

Caught in a compromising situation with Wanda taking it all in, you cover your face with your hands. “I, um, Wanda, I apologize," you manage to stammer out, each word dripping with mortification.

She cocks her head, studying you. “It's... alright,” she murmurs, her gaze penetrating and elusive.  In any other circumstance, you might've caught the faint trail her eyes make over your partially exposed form, but right now, anxiety shrouds your every thought.

You bite your lip, the action causing Wanda’s breath to hitch. 

“Can I... could you give me a moment? Just to... get dressed?” you ask.

Wanda nods, her lips curving into a small, understanding smile. “Of course,” She takes a step back, her fingers brushing against the door frame. “Just... maybe lock the door next time?”

You chuckle weakly, nodding. “Definitely noted.”

Once alone in the room again, a ragged exhale escapes your lips. You immediately get to your feet, scrambling for your suitcase to find something–anything–that will save you from the most embarrassing moment of your life.

Outside the room, Wanda leans against the hallway wall, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the cool surface. The image of what she had walked into replays in her mind, sending tingles down her spine. 

She feels the urge to peer into your head, see who’s starring in your wildest fantasies.

If she wants, she can find out. 

But there's a line she knows she shouldn't cross, especially with teammates. Swallowing hard, Wanda decides to afford you the space and privacy to compose yourself.

Her reverie is broken by your voice, somewhat muted by the wall between you both. “I'm decent now,” you say, a touch of sheepishness clear in your tone. 

For a moment, Wanda hesitates, her fingers hovering inches from the door handle. Taking a fortifying breath, she turns the knob and steps into the room. 

“I'm so sorry,” you say as soon the door shuts with a soft click behind Wanda, eyes cast downward. The oversized Pikachu shirt you're wearing is probably the last thing she expected to see on you. Under different circumstances, she might have teased you about it.

Wanda shakes her head and smirks, crossing her arms in front of her. “Apologies for the pillow?”

“For what happened three days ago, during dinner. I never meant to offend you,” you say, still looking down.

Her eyes narrow, adopting a casual demeanor. “Offend me? I'm not sure what you're talking about.”

Risking a glance up, your eyes meet Wanda's, searching for a hint of the resentment or anger you're expecting. Instead, you find a relaxed, almost indifferent look in her eyes. No hint of upset, no sign of offense taken. Her nonchalance takes you aback.

“You know,” she muses, her tone light, “You were so caught up in your thoughts that you stayed away from this room for days.”

“Did I read the situation wrong?” you wonder aloud feeling a little foolish now that it seems you were reading into things too much.

Wanda shrugs her shoulders, her playful smirk returning. “Perhaps you're overthinking things a bit. Honestly, if I was truly offended, I would've said something. As for wanting space,” she continues, her gaze drifting over to the tousled sheets, “I didn't think it was a big deal.”

Swallowing your surprise, a tiny smile forms on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you've been looking at the entire situation wrong. Maybe the pillow barrier, the shared space, and the soft morning greeting weren't as loaded with meaning as you thought. 

Maybe, with Wanda, things were just simpler.

And yet, somehow, you’re disappointed by that possibility.

It means she doesn’t care if you get your room sooner or later. 

It means she wouldn’t miss you as much as you would when you permanently get to sleep in your own bed.

“So… we’re good?” you ask tentatively.

Wanda simply nods. An awkward silence quickly follows and your attention is inadvertently drawn to the pillow strewn aside, its memory fresh and horrifying.

“Uh, nothing happened, but,” you say, coughing into your fist nervously. “I’ll make sure to wash that pillow.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 14, Unfiltered - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussions of sex.

Word Count: 3.7k

Previously On...: Nat and Wanda did their best to comfort you after Bucky's absolutely stunning betrayal.

A/N: Bucky attempts to explain himself.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43 @wolfgirl21

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You didn’t leave your room for a week, only letting Nat and Wanda in, and even then, just for short intervals. You spent your days talking to FRIDAY, trying to process what had happened that night with Bucky, and your nights sobbing for everything that you’d lost, and everything you’d now never have.

On the seventh day, you left your room, knowing that it was time to talk to him. Putting it off any longer wouldn’t do either of you any good. You weren’t fully prepared, but then again, you figured you probably would never be. Not really. 

You bit your lip as you knocked on his door, fingers toying with the cuff of the long-sleeved shirt you were wearing, not wanting Bucky to see the healing welts you’d rubbed into your skin. There was a part of you that was convinced he would answer the door in a state of undress, with Jade naked in his bed. You’d probably just throw yourself off the top of the Tower if that happened. Insult to injury, and all that.

But the Bucky that answered the door was a Bucky you had never seen before– he hadn’t shaved in days, the bags under his eyes were the heaviest you’d ever seen them, his hair greasy as though he hadn’t washed it since the last time you saw him. He was wearing a white tank top, stained yellow with perspiration, and his eyes were red and bloodshot, as though he’d also spent the last seven days in tears. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him look before.

“Pocket,” he breathed when he saw you standing there before him, a touch of awe in his voice as though he didn’t fully believe you were real.

“You look like shit, Barnes,” you said, matter of factly. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him that, but you wanted him to know, all the same.

He barked a humorless laugh. “Look like shit, feel like shit, because I am shit,” he said. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he amended quickly, “cause I am; so happy. Just figured you’d want nothing more to do with me after what I did. I know I wouldn’t.”

“Came to talk,” you told him, clutching your elbow with one arm. The tension between the two of you was thicker than it had ever been, and it made the air feel difficult to breathe.

“You did?” Bucky asked, his eyes going wide with surprise, and a little bit of hope. “Yeah, come in, come in.” He moved aside, ushering you into his room. You looked around; it had been ages since you’d been inside, and you’d forgotten how sparse the space had been. The room smelled stale. You noticed a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor and sighed.

“Back on the floor?” you asked, not turning to look at him.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… don’t sleep so great on my own anymore, I guess.”

You turned to look at him, a heavy beat of silence hanging between you.

“Look,” you said eventually, at the same time he said “Listen.” You nodded at him, indicating he should speak first.

Bucky motioned to a chair, and you sat down, perched at the edge of the seat, not comfortable enough to relax into it. “Listen,” he began, “I’ve had a lot of time over the last week to think about my actions, and I’ve spoken a lot to Raynor; she helped me work through some stuff, and I owe you an explanation.” You raised your eyebrows at him, and he was quick to add: “An explanation, not an excuse. So, here goes: back when you said I was having an ‘emotional affair’ with Carthage, I didn’t take you seriously, and I’m sorry. Truth is, I had no idea what that even was, that it was an actual thing. The concept didn’t even exist in my time, so the words didn’t mean anything to me. I just thought you were making something up, being jealous, blowing things out of proportion, looking for a reason to be mad at me.

“But after the other night, Nat brought up the words again, told me I was having one with Carthage, so I got on the computer and looked it up. And you were right. You were right this whole time, and I’m so sorry. I swear to you that I never touched her, but I got too close to her, let her get too close to me, and I was prioritizing her over you again and again. I knew it was hurting you, but I kept telling myself that you were overreacting, because she and I were just friends. I hadn’t touched her, never thought about touching her, so I couldn’t see where I’d done anything wrong, and you were getting upset over nothing. I realize now how fucked up that was, how wrong. How, every time I chose to spend time with her over you, I was betraying you, betraying our relationship. I see that now.

“I shared shit with her that I didn’t share with you. At first, I told myself it was because you wouldn’t understand– things about Hydra, things about my past– but she would, because she’d lived it, too, you know? But then, it turned into telling her about my nightmares, my feelings, our relationship. Things I never shared with you, because I didn’t want to change the way you saw me; same reason I never shared them with Steve. I convinced myself that I was protecting you from even more of my trauma but, the more I talked to her, the more I…” he paused and swallowed, as if the next words were going to be physically painful, “the more I began resenting you. She told me that, if I was honest with you about everything, if you knew the full extent of the things I’ve done, what I’m capable of, then you wouldn’t want me. And she got me believin’ it.” “Bucky,” you said, your voice as hoarse with pain from his words as if you’d been screaming, “I have never judged you for the things Hydra made you do. When have I ever given you reason to believe that I’d accept anything less than every part of you, the dark and the light?”

“You didn’t, sweets,” he said, bowing his head. “You never did. But you know I’ve always thought you were too good for me. Carthage got in my head, fed that fear. Made me think that she was the only one who truly got me, understood me, better than you, better than Steve, because she’d lived it, too. How could she judge me when she’d been made to be just as rotten?”

You were speechless. First, that he had carried all that inside, despite how much you had begged him to be open with you, and second, that he’d once again taken Jade’s word, her opinion, above your own. That he had taken her at face value and didn’t come to you, to talk to you, to see if you truly felt the way he was just assuming you did.

“I knew she wanted me,” he continued as he toyed with the metal fingers of his vibranium hand, and despite your intense desire to interject, to blow up at him, you did your best to keep quiet, to let him say what he needed to say. “Maybe not consciously at first, but she wasn’t subtle about it. I… I liked the attention. It made me feel good, knowing that there was someone else out there, not just you, who could be attracted to me, after everything I’d done. That there was more than one person who thought I deserved love.”

You wanted to say something, to speak up and tell him how fucking stupid he’d been, how utterly unfair to you, but the words wouldn’t come. You’d lost your will to fight.

“All of that, the understanding, the attention, the acceptance– I… I don’t want to say I became addicted to it,” Bucky said, “but I definitely didn’t want it to stop, to give it up. It was easier for me to convince myself that you were the one with the problem; that you were trying to keep me from being friends with the one person who I thought really got me, because you were jealous. I didn’t allow myself to think there was any chance you were justified, because that would mean I had to admit I’d been in the wrong, that I’d have to give up her friendship. I didn’t want to do that, so I dismissed your concerns.

“The worst part was, I wasn’t oblivious to the way she treated you. I heard her jabs, saw how obnoxious she was, but I figured ‘if I’m still going home with Pocket every night, if I’ve never touched Carthage, then why does it matter?’. The things she did, the stuff she said, it was meaningless to me, because I knew I was never going to leave you for her. I didn’t stop to consider that you didn’t know that, that I hadn’t been doing my part to prove it to you, that I was giving you so much cause to doubt me.”

Bucky looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Steeling himself. You held your breath; absolutely terrified to hear what he might say next.

“The truth of it… fuck, this is so hard to admit… The truth of it is that a part of me liked that you were jealous of her. It made me feel… wanted, like I was worth something, like I had value. God. It sounds fucked when I say it out loud. I’m so sorry, Pocket.”

You just stared at him. If he thought it was hard to admit, how fucking difficult did he think all of this was for you to hear?

“Let me make sure I understand this properly,” you said, hearing every ounce of exhaustion you felt in your voice, “You knew she had feelings for you, but you didn’t want to take my concerns seriously.” Bucky opened his mouth to interject, but you interrupted. “No, Barnes. I let you talk. It’s my turn. You knew her actions were hurting me, but they boosted your ego too much for you to stop them. You resented me because you didn’t think I could fully understand you, but you kept things from me out of some misguided duty to ‘protect’ me. You were angry at me for being jealous of Carthage, but you wanted me to be, because it made you feel good. You saw how badly she treated me, but you did nothing to stop it because, it wasn't directly affecting you. Do I have that all correct?”

Bucky groaned and leaned over, putting his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “Yeah. God, I’m a fucking piece of shit.”

You didn’t know if he was looking for you to reassure him that wasn’t the case, but in the moment, you  happened to wholeheartedly agree, so you didn’t address it. Instead, you asked: “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

Bucky nodded sadly. “Sometimes,” he said, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath, “sometimes I thought about what it would be like to date her.” You clenched your fist, nails digging painfully into your palms. He opened his eyes again. “I wondered if she would make me happy, if being with her would be easier. You and I were fighting so much by that point, I started wondering if maybe the grass was greener, but every time I thought about it just felt wrong, a perversion. I knew, no matter how bad you and I were fighting, I could never be happy with her, because she wasn’t you. I meant what I told you– in seventy five years, it’s only been you. You’re it for me.”

It was your turn to close your eyes. God, you wanted to believe he was telling you the truth, that you really were it, but… he had just made it so fucking hard to believe him.

“She asked me to leave you,” he said abruptly. Your eyes flew open, and you stared at him. You weren’t sure what expression was on your face, but it must have distressed Bucky, because he immediately began clarifying. “I didn’t agree to it!” he said, speaking rapidly, as if to make sure he got out everything he needed to say before you realized you’d had enough and walked out. “It was when she asked me to come to the med bay. When she was having her panic attack. Or, I guess, when she claimed she was having a panic attack.” You raised an eyebrow; you’d warned him she was most likely faking, using his protective, caring nature to manipulate him. Yet another time he’d put her word ahead of yours. 

He continued: “She begged me to break up with you. Said she heard us fightin’ all the time, that it wasn’t healthy. Claimed you were trying to control me by dictating who I could or couldn’t spend my time with-- that you were being just as bad as Hydra. Kept tellin’ me I deserved someone who trusted me, someone who understood me. Someone like her.” Bucky sighed. “The fact that I’d behaved in a way that made her think it would even be a possibility, that I would even consider it– it made me sick. I didn’t want to believe that I had been so obtuse, and that it was my fault you kept hurtin’, but there was the evidence, right in front of me, and I couldn’t argue it away to myself anymore.”

“But you still stayed with her all day,” you said quietly. “You could have come back to me, and we could have gone Upstate like we were supposed to. But you chose to put her ahead of me, again.”

Bucky swallowed and looked up at you through his lashes. “I was fucking stupid,” he said eventually. “I didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d made such a colossal mistake. Told myself that, if she confessed her feelings to me, and I still just tried to be a good friend, then I wasn’t guilty of anything, even though, deep down, I knew that was bullshit.”

“So, you just kept putting her first in an effort to, what? Convince yourself you weren’t putting her first?” You rubbed your eyes. “Bucky, that’s a lot of fucking mental gymnastics to try to get yourself off the hook for being an asshole.”

“And I fucking hate myself for letting it get to that point,” he said desperately. “Everything I did as the Winter Soldier– none of that compares to the regret I feel for what I ended up doing to you. I don’t know how to begin making amends for that.” He caught your eye, holding your gaze steady in his.

“And as for the other night… The things I said… I know it doesn’t fix it, doesn’t make it right, but I swear to you, I didn’t realize how messed up it was. I should have, I get that now, but everyone’s just… so much more open about sex and all that than they were when I was younger. I thought, maybe this is just how people talk to one another now, maybe this is normal, and I just hadn’t caught up with it yet. She was so eager to talk about it, and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore, or even if the lines still existed.”

“That shit was beyond hurtful, Bucky,” you told him, trying not to let yourself get emotionally swept up in the memory. “I’ve never felt more degraded or ashamed than I did that night.”

“And I am so, so sorry for that, love. I hate that I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean a word of what I said to you. You know I don’t think of you like that– I never have– she was so good at convincing me that it was normal, that it was something every girl liked, and I was dumb enough to believe her. It felt disgusting to say, shoulda known how disgusting it woulda been for you to hear it, but I swear on my ma’s grave, I only ever did it because I thought it was my last chance to keep you, to make you want to stay with me. Thought if I gave you something different, you wouldn’t want to leave me. Only other girls I’ve talked to since I came outta cryo for good, I can count on less than two hands– Nat, Wanda, Pepper, Shuri, Okoye, Ayo, Carthage, and you, so I didn’t really have a lot of resources to pull from.”

“But why would you even need to think we needed something different?” you asked. “It’s not like you ever left me unsatisfied.”

“The same stupid thing,” he said. “I trusted Carthage. I told her you and I hadn’t been spending as much, uh, personal time together as we used to, and she said maybe you were gettin’ bored of me. Maybe I wasn’t doin’ enough to please you, keep you happy in bed. She said couples needed to spice things up to keep it interesting, and when you said you were breaking up with me, it was my Hail Mary play. I was terrified of losing you. I get now that she was just stirring shit.”

You sighed. “You should have come to me,” you said. “About all of it. Any of it. We could have had a chance if you’d been upfront with me from the beginning, about everything. But you chose her over me, time and time again.” You stood up to leave, having heard enough.

“So, it’s really over then?” he asked mournfully. “There’s really nothing I can do to fix this mess? To get you back?”

You rubbed your temples with both hands. “I can’t stress enough how much you’ve hurt me, Bucky.”

“And I’m so sorry, doll,” he said. “I’d give anything to make it right. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it. I love you.”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “Love’s not enough. I just don’t trust you anymore. I want to. Fuck, I want to so badly, it hurts, but you’ve broken me. And some cracks, you can’t fix.”

Bucky choked back a sob. “But you’re my best friend,” he said. “I can’t not have you in my life. There’s gotta be something I can do to re-earn your trust. Just name it.”

You heaved a sigh. He was your best friend, too, and frankly, you missed him like that. You didn’t know how long it would take to trust him again, or if you’d ever even be able to, but you couldn’t not give him a chance to try. You still loved him too much for that. You had one idea, though you doubted very much that he would agree to it.

“You want to earn back my trust?” He nodded vehemently. “Cut all contact with her. No more training, no more runs, no missions. No more communication between you, at all. No conversation, no calls, no texts, nothing. You see her in the halls, you pass by like she doesn’t exist. She’s invisible. A ghost. She tries to initiate, you turn away. She touches you, you put that serum to use and you run in the other direction. For all intents and purposes, she is dead to you. You give her such a cold shoulder, she thinks she’s back in fucking Siberia. Prove to me that she’s nothing to you. Really and truly nothing. Prove to me that you really meant it when you said you’d choose me over her every time, and I might consider giving you a chance to fix this. I’m not saying we’ll end up back together, but maybe we could be friends again. Think you can do that?”

Bucky nodded vehemently and reached for his phone. “I’ll just text her right now and tell her I can’t speak to her anymore.”

“No,” you said, putting a hand out to cover his phone. “She doesn’t get the courtesy, and you don't get to pin this on me. You cut her out cold turkey, immediately, otherwise this is never going to work. You have to want to do that.” Bucky seemed to hesitate “It’s a limited-time offer, Barnes. Either you accept it, right now, or we’re finished. Your choice.”

Bucky nodded, his face resolute. “Okay,” he said, putting his phone back down. “I accept.”

Well. That was surprisingly easy. In fact, it seemed a little too easy. Sure, maybe his intentions were good, but, given his actions in the past, you were going to need more assurances than just his words. “Actually, you know what?” you asked, holding out your hand, “give me your phone.”

“What for?” Bucky asked, looking surprised.

“Well, first I’m going to go through your messages with her,” you told him, matter of factly, “and then I’m going to block her number so you can’t contact each other.”

“That seems like an invasion of privacy,” Bucky protested cautiously.

You rolled your eyes. “There’s privacy, and then there’s secrecy, Barnes. You’ve already proven yourself a little too comfortable with the latter, so you can’t really expect me to offer you much of the former right now, can you?” You took a few steps toward the door. “Your hesitation is telling me all I need to know.”

“Wait, doll, no!” Bucky said, moving to come between you and the door. He held out his phone. “Here. Do… do what you need to do, just…” he swallowed, “just… know you’re probably not going to like everything you see.”

Fucking wonderful. You eyed him narrowly before taking the phone and returning to sit down. With a heart full of trepidation, you entered your birthday, unlocking the screen, and navigated to his SMS app.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Chapter ->

[tianasficrecs168]

Spideypool Fic Recs

A black dot • means it's a one-shot

A heart ♡ means it's focused on Sexy times (it's pure filth PWP)

Scarlett_starlett: “Are you sure you wanna’ love me?” (Wade/Peter) • Spider-Man is everything Peter Parker wishes he could be—witty, confident, loud, sassy, and sexy… This is no more apparent to him than when Deadpool walks past him without a second glance the first time they meet. It sucks, considering Peter Parker has an embarrassing crush on the ex-merc.

Dontcareajot: “Damage” (Wade/Peter) Peter Parker finds himself in a sticky situation and who should show up to rescue him but the infamous Deadpool? Now Peter feels indebted to the mercenary... And maybe weirdly charmed by him.

isaDanCurtisproduction: “Petey and Wade discuss the proper way to go about vigilantism (and maybe they fall in love too)” (Wade/Peter) Deadpool totally crashes Peter's lunch date with some left-overs Aunt May had inundated him with, and Peter is like "Woah, isn't that that murder guy?" and then it kind of spirals from there. And maybe when Peter first saw Deadpool, decked out with fuzzy panda gloves and enough guns to take down a small monarchy, he should have high-tailed it the other way, but where's the fun in that, right? Right???

Orphan_account: “You Big Disgrace” (Wade/Peter) a two-shot series Wade’s hanging by one leg from the firescape outside Peter’s seventh floor apartment, katanas sheathed on his back and a gun on each thigh - but he’s frozen like a deer in the headlights, as if Peter poses some sort of threat, standing like an idiot at the open window in sweatpants and no shirt, only a flashlight and a thin smattering of chest hair to defend himself.

ChuckleVoodoos: “Hot Cocoa and Heroes” (Wade/Peter) • When a strange hero breaks into his apartment to hole up for the night, Peter Parker is not pleased. And yet somehow he goes from swinging a baseball bat at the guy to sharing a mug of hot cocoa with him.

Zeropercent (orphan_account): “Clenched Teeth And Fluttering Eyes” (Wade/Peter) • The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think.

Cherryvanilla: “Wasn't looking for this” (Wade/Peter) a series, one of three When the Avengers had briefed him on Deadpool, they played up the Kills People for Money and Has No Real Morals angle and left out the Is Pretty Damn Funny and Charming in a Weird, Terrifying Sort of Way part. Or, five times they meet on rooftops plus one time they take it to the streets* (*with apologies to The Doobie Brothers).

        

Mokuyoubi: “One for the Books” (Wade/Peter) ♡ • And, like, there’s a million reasons NOT to do this, primary among them the whole it’s Deadpool thing and being in a library with the police outside, but Peter has a feeling this isn’t going to take very long, and they’ve been dancing around this forever. Wade gives a roll of his hips and Peter’s hands are suddenly working without his permission, rolling up Wade’s mask until the second his mouth is visible. MRA terrorists storm the library, and Peter is unreasonably jealous of how into his secret identity Deadpool seems to be.

Doctorestranged: “Dead Men Walking” (Wade/Peter) part of a series, one of four When a series of murders take place, Peter Parker goes undercover in Sister Margaret’s to get intel on Tony Stark’s prime suspect: Deadpool. Peter goes in hoping to get enough information so that Spider-Man can save the day, but like everything in Peter’s life, it becomes a bit more complicated than that and it soon becomes apparent that he might not be the best fit for the job.

Jilliancares: “Let me explain” (Wade/Peter) • Wade scoffs, shaking his head and elbowing Peter in the side. “Sure,” he says, sarcastic. “That’s why your spidey-sense doesn’t see me.” Peter’s on the verge of laughing, wanting to join Wade in his amusement, but he freezes. His entire body goes still. He finds himself staring at a roof three buildings over, not even looking at anything. Two blocks away, a car alarm finally shuts off. “I never told you that,” Peter says, the realization startling him. Or: Peter's starting to realize just how much Wade knows about him.

PrinceMalice: - “Break My Face” (Wade/Peter) • Deadpool died all the time. It was kind of a modus operandi with the mercenary. He was used to it. In a sick way, Peter was also used to it. The merc would take a bullet to the brain like a tic tac. No matter how gnarled or dismembered he became, Deadpool always pulled himself together, and it was normal. . Or four times Wade died saving Peter's life, and the one time Peter almost died saving his.

Riseofthefallenone: - “Puppy ex Machina” (Wade/Peter) A year after his divorce, Peter is trapped in a depressive cycle and still not quite over Mary Jane. When she shows up at his door, begging him to watch her dog for a week while she leaves town, he can’t really bring himself to say “no”. No one was expecting that little Pomeranian to turn his life around and help him realize that his friendship with Wade has been teetering on the edge of something more for a while.

[dgrailwar]

Round 4, Day 4 - ALL TEAMS (Event)

The Gunner sat on the shoulder of the massive mechanized entity, grinning.

"Ah… let's get comfortable. Participating Masters, are you here? Let's do a check in with the Servants-- shall we?"

The Ruler stood strong, summoning her banner as she blocked incoming fire and pushed back the advancing militia.

"They're on par with Servants! These aren't normal enemies!"

The Foreigner floated high in the air, bullets whizzing past him as he tumbled in the sky, panicked.

"There's a lot…! Too many… too many…!"

The MoonCancer sat perfectly still, watching as the armed warriors passed by.

"…Just ignore the statue… just ignore the statue…"

The Alter-Ego stabbed into the approaching onslaught, gritting her teeth as she found herself slightly overwhelmed.

"Damn it, I'll drain you all and turn you into EXP! You're fodder to me!"

The Pretender looked down, smiling ruefully as he shook his head.

"Uh-oh. Looks like we're fighting against a pretty focused fighting force. What to do…"

The Avenger burst forth, shrouded in flames as he began to rip through the enemies, even him finding their numbers overwhelming.

"Kuhahaha! Where is the summoned hero! Where is Gunner!?"

"Looks like they're trying to put up a fight. But I apologize, I haven't introduced myself. My True Name is Takasugi Shinsaku. However, as this is a war of Extra-Classes… the most interesting of the Servant Classes…"

"…Just call me the exemplary Gunner! I heard that you knocked out Faker, therefore in this bout, I shall be your seventh! So-- Let's make this fun! If you all work together, then everybody will have the best chance of victory. Still… glory is pretty tempting. So if you want to go for the head, as in myself, and leave everyone else to handle the dirty work… well, it might harm the others, but you'll feel like a winner! Oh- but if you're going to sell out your friends or enemies, make it interesting!"

"So, what's it gonna be? You gonna try to work together, or is greed gonna take over? This is still a competition with a winner, after all. Why mess up the chance? Let's see what happens."

Rules:

Try your best to balance the polls (there's a grace zone of 2% in either direction)! If you do so, everyone will be granted a boon! If you can't, then everyone will be hit by a punishment!

However… If you want to win on your own, it has to be definitive, as in: by greater than 7% of your closest competitor, and then only your team will get a major boon and the rest will be punished! But if you try to win but can't hit that metric, only you'll get smacked with a punishment!

Will you work together, or will you try to go for the glory on your own?

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Enemies With Benefits (2)

Admit It

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: Enemies. That was what you were. She was an Avenger, you were a criminal. You should hate her, she should hate you. So why do you love the feeling of her skin pressed against yours? Moans spilling from her lips? The taste of her on your tongue?

Casual, rough sex. That was all it was supposed to be but soon feelings start to get involved. Would something so scandalous be able to last?

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Strap on, Jealousy, Enemies, Rough sex, Dirty talk, Angry Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Wanda's Power's during Sex

General Masterlist | Enemies with Benefits Masterlist

Chapter 2- Admit It

---

Panic and anger flooded through Wanda as she frantically searched for the USB in her dress. The fear of letting Steve down another time for not completing a mission weighed heavily on her mind, the Captain trusting her with this mission and letting her do it instead of waiting for Natasha, who would normally have done a mission like that, to come back from her two week stake out with Clint.

Frustration with you also clouded her mind, this the third time you had stolen intel from her during a mission and at least the seventh time you caused her to not complete a mission. It had always ended in hot, rough sex (not that she was complaining) but that caused her to be unaware of your sneaky actions.

Clenching her jaw, she walked back into the club, her eyes scanning the dance floor to see if you were still there. She saw the blonde from earlier making out with some man, the kiss sloppy making her look away with a grimace. After a few moments of searching, she realised you must have left and quickly made her way out of the club, one place set on her mind.

***

Your body moved with the music, your hand holding a glass of whiskey while the other unbuttoned your shirt as you were getting warm. You briefly looked over at your laptop, the files from the USB almost downloaded so you quickly moved to grab the small box and tag. You neatly wrote ‘To My Little Witch’ on the tag, knowing how mad Wanda would get once the Avengers received your little present and downed the rest of your drink. The liquid burnt the back of your throat but you didn't care as you watched the files finish downloading and took out the device and placed it in the box.

Just as you were tying the bow on the box (yes the bow on the box, you had to be dramatic) a loud knocking sound was heard on your door. You turned off the music, now able to hear how loud the pounding on the door was and chuckled at the knowledge of who it was.

“Hello my little witch,” you say as the door opens, her eyes glowing red as she looks at you in anger. She didn't respond to you, only pushing you into your apartment and slamming the door shut. Her hand found your neck and she swiftly pinned you to the door, her magic holding your hands against the wooden door. “Anything I can do for you?” you tease, her grip tightening around your throat making you shut up.

“You,” her finger roughly slammed against your chest, “Need to stop fucking my missions up.”

“The only thing I’m fucking is you little witch,” Wanda tilts her head at you, a daring look in her eye to make you continue, “It’s not my fault you’re easy to steal from.”

“Give it back. Now. ” Her voice is laced with anger but you can’t help but annoy her more.

“Or what? Gonna send your friends after me?” She remained silent for a moment, thinking to herself and looking around. Her eyes soon met your unbuttoned shirt, your toned body on show for her along with your black lace bra. You caught what she was staring at and chuckled, her gaze snapping to your smug face. “I’ll make you a deal. Admit that you were jealous earlier, and I'll give you whatever you want.”

Wanda had to stop the trail of thoughts that filled her mind with the promise of whatever she wanted and focussed on fixing her mistake, even if that meant ignoring the throbbing heat building between her legs

“Just give me the USB,” she pleaded, her voice no longer angry.

“Just admit it then,” you rasped out while her body moved closer to yours subconsciously. Wanda clenched her jaw, her pride not worth failing the team again so she moved to whisper in your ear, trying to have the same effect as you have on her.

“I was jealous of her,” she purred, her magic slowly releasing your hands.

“More,” you whispered, still trapped against the door.

“I was jealous of how she had your hands on her, your mouth whispering words only I should hear,” you moved your leg forward so it slotted between her thighs, a breathy sigh escaping her. “It should have been me in your arms, not her.”

“Good girl,” you whispered back, your hands now free to move, immediately going to her hips, “Now what do you want?” Wanda thought for a moment before smirking at you.

“I want to ride you, hard,” you groaned at her words and the feeling of her hand moving from your neck to trail her fingers over your jaw. “Then, you can do what you do best and fuck me,” her thumb glides over your bottom lip, dragging it down and letting go. “And finally, you can give me the USB.”

“So greedy,” you whisper before kissing her, hands threading through your hair as yours went to the back of her thighs to lift her up. You carried her to the bedroom, placing her down and immediately unzipping the dress so you could pull it down. Her hands pushed off your shirt, scratching down your back causing you to hiss into the kiss. “You know, I should be punishing you for being so careless,” you murmur as you kiss along her jaw, “Losing such a valuable item.” You find yourself quickly on your back with her on top, strong, powerful legs straddling your waist as she glared down at you.

“And I should punish you for taking it from me, maybe I should tie you to the bed and use you as much as I want to in return for your actions,” she purrs, her hands unclasping her bra to show off her perfect breasts.

“You already said what you wanted, no take backs,” you murmur, her eyes rolling at you before you take a perk nipple into your mouth. Her mouth parts to moan while her hands clutch at your shoulders, your tongue swirling around her nipple before letting it go to do the same with the other. You only stop your actions when she climbs off your lap, swiftly pulling your trousers down and walking over to the drawer to pull out the strap on. You put it on as quickly as possible as the witch pulls down her drenched panties and returns to your lap.

“Fuck,” she groans out as she lowers herself down on the toy, your hands going to guide her hips but are restrained by her magic. She gives you a mischievous smirk that swiftly changes to an open mouth, moans tumbling out as you thrust your hips up to bury the toy into her. Her hands grip onto your thighs as she leans back slightly, her hips moving up and down the large plastic cock. You watch mesmerised as the toy is swallowed by her pussy, her arousal coating it and dripping onto your skin.

Soon, she’s bouncing on your lap like it’s the last time, the whole bed shaking as she brings her hips down onto yours. Pants and moans spill from her lips while she rides you into oblivion, her hips moving frantically as she nears her orgasm. With fervour, she moves her body upwards before slamming back down on the toy before sticking to rolling her hips hurriedly and clenching around you. Her hands dig into your thighs, leaving crescent shapes to mark you of your time together.

“I’m so close,” she moans out, releasing your hands so one can travel to her clit. You oblige her silent demand and circle the sensitive bud, her hips twitching in your lap as she gets even closer. Her hands move to grope at her own chest, pinching and pulling at her nipples.

“Come for me,” you husk out, her replying by screaming your name and tensing on top of you. Gradually, her hips slow, riding out the aftershocks, her body moving forwards and leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy, her too out of breath to properly make out with you. You take this as the sign to roll you two over, a whimper coming from her at the action while her hands go to grip at your back. “Still want me to fuck you?”

“What a stupid question,” she teases, pulling you down for another heated kiss. You quickly pull back, pulling out till only the tip is in before slamming your hips forwards. She moans into your mouth as you pound her into the mattress, her hands clutching at the sheets near her while you kiss at her neck when she can’t keep the kiss going. You snap your hips into her, panting against her neck as you feel the base of the toy hitting your clit. “Shit, you’re making me feel so good,” she sighs out, back arching as you thrust in harder.

“You look so pretty stretched out for me,” you mutter, moving back to ghost your mouth against her lips. You swallow her moans, her hands moving down to your back, scratching down making you hiss, then to your ass as you drill the toy into her. She pulls back from the kiss when you hit a spot deep inside her, head thrown back into the pillow showing off her neck and sharp jawline.

“Harder,” she begs and you want to scoff at her, is making the whole bed shake not hard enough? You grip at her thigh as she wraps her legs around you, pressing hard enough to leave a bruise that she’ll enjoy looking at another time, and change to slower but harder and even deeper thrusts. Sokovian curse words spill from her lips while you fuck her mercilessly, the sound sending another wave of arousal down to your core.

“I’m close,” you murmur, the friction against your clit having you so close. Her mouth reaches yours and with one final thrust, you climax, her following straight after. Your hips stutter as you experience the aftershocks, her body twitching under yours as her legs shake slightly.

You pull out when she is ready, discarding the toy and making a mental note to clean it later and leave the room to grab her a glass of water. Just because you’re supposed to hate her doesn’t mean you can’t be nice to her, right? When you return, she takes the glass with a quizzical look before exhaustion decides to take over her. You’re not sure what to do when she quickly drifts off to sleep, curled up against your pillow so you place the box with the USB on the other pillow and quietly retreat.

“Goodnight, my little witch,” you murmur, leaving your apartment with your laptop, ready to go through all the files while Wanda sleeps peacefully in your bed.

[sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people]

Fatherhood // Dad!Tony stark x baby!daughter!reader

Summary: tony stark has baby daughter <3

Warnings: none (let me know if i messed any)

Age: newborn

A/N: kinda short but i need to get a fic out. Pls ignore my inactivity lol

🩰˚~˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡*°◇🎧✧˚.🎀༘⋆◇+💕*°♡+

Tonys foot tapped anxiously as he paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room. Pepper was in labor. In the process of giving birth. Tony had never been so afraid.

He was scared he'd be a terrible father. That he'd mess up with you. He was snapped out of his racing thoughts when Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention.

"You okay?" She questioned tony, he nodded his head quickly in response before asking Steve how long it had been for the seventh time.

"Two minutes since the last time you asked." Steve smiled, looking at his watch. He had asked this every 2 or 3 minutes.

Tony sighed anxiously, gasping as the nurse he had been bothering for the last 30 minutes asking about pepper walked through the door, her pink scrubs swooshing as she walked toward him, with a warm smile on her face she spoke.

"Shes here." She giggled at the worried father. Tony immediately brushed past her into the room. His eyes immediately fell on pepper, sitting up and holding a small pink cloth too her chest.

His jaw fell agape, hitting the floor. He waddled over to her. She smiled at him.

he placed his hand on her arm, she folded his arms in the correct position and placed his daughter in his arms. She was swaddled in the soft pink cloth.

He looked into her deep e/c orbs as she blinked at him lovingly. Making a funny face, which made you smile and coo at him.

🩰˚~˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡*°◇🎧✧˚.🎀༘⋆◇+💕*°♡+

All of the avengers rallied into the room, all taking turns holding you. Tony holding his arms under theirs, afraid they would drop you. Even bucky.

Eventually they all went home, tony held you in his arms, sitting near the window, and fell asleep there too.

The nurse he'd been bothering all day had to pry you out of his grasp and put you in a crib.

He woke up 0.3 seconds after you would began to cry. Immediately jumping up to sooth your cries.

Of course he treated pepper like a queen. Helping her to the bathroom whenever she needed to go. Ordering breakfast for her, going out to target to get her fluffy socks when her feet were cold.

Pepper knew he'd be an amazing father as he rubbed her feet and rocked you to sleep in his free arm.

Doing everything and anything to allow his wife to rest.

🩰˚~˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡*°◇🎧✧˚.🎀༘⋆◇+💕*°♡+

🩰Tags🎀

@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @zebralover // @yummyangy // @carellmcu // @mariasabanahabanabana //