PsychicSpikes

Though 2 weeks have officially passed since classes had begun, until yesterday afternoon, you had not seen the redheaded woman at the coffee shop, despite going every day. After your  encounter with the woman, when thinking about this, a part of you feels relieved internally, knowing you don’t have to deal with her piercing gaze often. Another part of you, a part that you try to ignore, keeps pushing you to go back to see if she’s there this time as well. The very same part that finds her eyes in the greenery around the campus, and reminds you of her attractiveness when you lay alone in bed at night. It bugs you just as much as it gives butterflies in your stomach. 

As much as you hate to admit it, something about her had charmed you ridiculously so, and had you completely wrapped around her well manicured fingers. 

You groan loudly, thrashing around in your blankets with writhing agony. “God, why can’t she just get out of my head already!”

The stillness of your dorm room only suffocates you further, the heat from the portion of sun peering through the window filters into your nose, making you only think about her more. How would she look with the afternoon or morning sun flush on her skin? Would she go to the beach or would she prefer the pool more? Would she tan or would she burn? Deep down, you’re sure her fiery red hair would look beautiful under the blazing sun. 

Maybe she would rather not go in the sun unless she has to. 

Dwelling on that thought, you shake your head and think that no, with hair like that, she has to go outside relatively often. There’s just no way she wouldn’t. 

Thoughts jumping from one topic to another, you remember that Kate was out helping her mother with something for the day, meaning you had not gotten your morning coffee or formulated any apparent plans for the day. You smack your hands on your face, curling your fingers, and dramatically clawing down as if you were peeling your skin off. Your legs tingle and itch to be moving, not quite used to not doing something around this time. Restless. 

You scramble off of your bed, angrily grumbling to yourself as you throw some acceptable clothes on and tuck your feet into your shoes, grabbing your keys and wallet before waltzing out of your dorm like a teenager who had just stayed up all night for the first time. With a hidden vigor and an itch to be moving, you sluggishly exit your building, beelining for the gate to your campus. Quickly though, you end up tucking your hands into your hoodie pocket, attempting to warm them as today had been a slightly colder morning and was only beginning to really warm up as it slowly approached afternoon. If only Kate hadn’t awoken you with her before leaving ruckus, you could still be dead asleep in bed on your weekend off. 

You sigh, fumbling your way into the coffee shop and ordering an iced coffee. Controversial, yes, but you wanted to enjoy the cold weather before trying to collide with it by drinking a hot beverage. 

The cashier gives you a sympathizing look when you reach for your coffee. “Rough night?” She says. 

“Nah,” you say with a slight upturn of your lips, “Just awake when I usually wouldn’t be.”

The girl nods and makes a sound of acknowledgement before looking at a customer approaching the counter. “Have a good one,” the brunette exclaims as you amble over to the door, prompting you to turn and respond as you exit the building. With a deep exhale, you continue the walk; enjoying the weather more than you’d like to admit, and far too much to turn around and go back to your dorm. Walking down the dampened and gray sidewalk, you inhale deeply through your nose, exhaling through your mouth and closing your already lidded eyes. It was about mid morning perhaps, the light gray, morning clouds hadn’t fully lifted yet and the birds still chirped away. Perhaps, you thought, they were communicating to their lovers that they’d be back soon. The scenery surrounding your college campus, and inside the campus, was truly breathtaking, especially on days like this, even though you wouldn’t take yourself as the kind of person that loved scenery constantly or thought too much about nature around you. In fact, you sort of felt as if you constantly overlooked how beautiful it all was. Taking it for granted due to how normal it is for you to see at this point in life. 

Occasionally though, it would strike you. Not violently nor sudden. It did not leave you rocked or unsettled. It was just small moments like the one you find yourself in now, that you would visit in your head at a later date as an escape. Moments where you really looked around and took a second to appreciate things. Moments where you wished you could paint so you could really capture how serene it all seemed in the grand scheme of things. It was almost like it was begging for some gentle soul to picture it in the way it deserves. Wanting to convey the refreshing and gingerly cold air through mere brush strokes. The birds chirping lightly as they guard their nests, waiting for their lover to return with more stick and brush than they’d ever need for their almost hatched eggs.

Smears of paint depicting how your hand was beginning to get cold and wet from the ice in your drink slowly melting. Hazelnut brown swirls on a canvas so beautiful that you could practically taste the coffee just by the sight, practically smelling the morning dew hanging off the trees and swinging down the blades of grass in a park a few feet away.

Eternity seems to pass in a mere matter of seconds, leaving you to turn your head and continue on with your journey. The gentle morning air keeps your face soft and pale with your cheeks and nose lightly dusted with gentle, and rosy, pink. You find your eyes wandering as you walk, looking at the park that you and Kate sat at in those days ago. You think about going and sitting at the same bench but the more you dwell on it, the more you realize you don’t want to just yet. Though looking at the scenery would be nice, it would get repetitive soon and frankly, you’d like to keep going. 

Pursing your lips, you blink languidly and decide that you won’t. 

As you turn the corner, you look forward all too late and collide with another body. You gasp sharply, your coffee spilling to the ground and you jump back in horror. You stand there for a second, staring at the delicious liquid in front of you with your jaw slack in shock. With an outward frown, you mourn for the drink. 

With a small breath, you finish your inner turmoil and finally look up at the person you had crashed into unceremoniously, a few seconds ago. Your eyes widen at the click of a tongue and harsh sigh as the girl looks at the liquid seeping into the torso of her brown coat. You frown at that as well. Looking up at the woman, you make eye contact with intense green eyes and blonde hair. 

Internally, you’re already beginning to curse yourself out.

Of course that the person you bump into is none other than the feisty blonde from all that time ago; the same one who looked about ready to murder you then, and ready to murder you now. Her eyes study you for a second, squinting before lighting up in slight recognition. It fades quickly as she looks down and remembers her fur coat and her face now contorts in displeasure and shock. Her voice meets your ears with an undertone of a heavy accent.

“What was that?!” 

You wince. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, biting on the skin of your lip in regret, guilt, and a hint of fear. Mentally, you slap your hand on your forehead in frustration. You cringe and decide to try again with the girl.

“Um, I can take that back to the college and get it washed for you,” you offer sheepishly, hating this situation and how tense you felt. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

She sighs frustratedly, closing her eyes as she rubs her brows and temples for a second. Opening her eyes and leveling you with a stare, she offers a tense smile, and you can't help but feel it was just to be polite. Thinking again, you pretty much know that it’s purely to be polite. “It’s okay,” she mumbles, saying something in a foreign language after. You blink for a moment, thinking of what it sounded like. Maybe Russian or German of some sort? 

It sort of sounded like she had insulted you or cursed you out, and you note that makes two of you.

“Well,” she starts, “Make it up to me and get me some breakfast. I see you just came from the coffee shop so you buy me breakfast and I buy you coffee.” The girl looks at you with a smirk and a smug look of pride on her face at her words that leaned towards a demand more than an offer. 

You tilt your head, considering it for a second before deciding it was pretty fair and you nod in agreement. She exclaims in victory as you turn around and walk back towards the familiar buildings. 

As you walk, you look at her out of the corner of your eyes and attempt to strike up simple conversation. “So, you like pastries?” 

…

Finding yourselves sitting at a table, you converse. You now nurse your freshly bought drink of choice while Yelena sips her own drink with a medium sized pastry sitting on a napkin in front of her. Your wallet returns to the pocket of your pants as you adjust in the wooden chair. Soon you really would need to get a job somewhere or start freelancing again. Paying for three coffees and a pastry all within an hour really chipped away at your already small amount of money. 

You thought about asking Eleanor Bishop, Kate’s mom, or even Kate herself for some financial help but you shook your head quickly. Even if they were rich and practically your family, asking them for financial aid always felt wrong. Asking for a quick 20 bucks is one thing, but it was another to ask them for long term money instead of getting a job and earning it yourself. 

You felt you were leeching off of them enough as is.

A hum from Yelena catches your attention, and your eyes drift back over to her. She seems deep in thought and you finally take the time to analyze her appearance. She was fairly beautiful with rich blonde hair with thick and dark brows that accentuated her beautiful, green eyes. Oddly enough, you sort of liked that her eyes were green instead of the typically blue eyes and blonde hair combo, believing it looks very natural on her and highlights her face well. On top of this, her nose had a gorgeous slope and made her face look all the more harmonized. Her lips were a nice shade and while the makeup was subtle, it added to her already good features. 

Admittedly, you almost didn’t like that you had nothing to dislike about her. Not for any reason in particular, it was just that she was a little too well put together and despite having a rough start, she seemed pretty nice as a person.

“I like your shirt,” you say offhandedly and interrupting your own wandering thoughts. You watch as her eyes snap to you and light up as if remembering what she was wearing. 

“Thank you!” She exclaims, “I’ve only been in New York for a little bit so I figured I gotta get the merch, you know?” 

You nod with a smile, finding her cheeky smile infectious. After a few short moments of normal silence, she studies you before seemingly deciding to voice her thoughts. “That girl you were with when we first met, what was her name? Kate Bishop, right?” She pauses while you nod in confirmation. How does she know that? Though you suppose Kate is a somewhat public figure. 

“Where is she now?” 

This causes you to hum in thought yourself, thinking back to when Kate woke you up this morning.

…

Bird chirping and the morning sun shining in from the window is what wakes you. You turn over with a grumble and attempt valiantly to go back to sleep. The sound of Kate rummaging around the dorm greets you and after a few short minutes, you realize sleep will not be gracing you again. Groaning, you lay on your back and yawn groggily. You wipe your eyes and speak with a heavily sleep filled voice. “Kate what are you doing? It’s so early.” 

She laughs lightly. “Sorry princess, I didn’t mean to disturb your beauty rest. I can leave if you’d like your majesty!” You see her smile brightly as you throw a stuffed animal of yours at her. She catches it and puts it on her bed. It was one that you both slept with. You had it one night, and then would pass it to her for that next night. You’ve both shared it for years now.

She shakes her head at you as you grumble and sit up in your bed. You yawn again and stretch, trying to get the sleep out of your tired muscles, watching as Kate grabs a small and empty knapsack, putting it on her back before reaching for her shoes. You quirk an eyebrow at her. “Where are you goin’?” 

She checks her phone briefly before putting on her second shoe. “My mom text me last night asking if I could show up and help with some work stuff and moving some boxes at the house. I’m surprised she didn’t ask her new boyfriend Jack to do it instead.” 

Kate rolls her eyes at her last sentence. She had made it fairly apparent how she felt about him so far. You hadn’t had the pleasure, or displeasure in Kate’s opinion, to meet him yet. You assumed if you went back to their house for holidays again this year, then you most likely would have to interact with him. He seemed like quite the character based off of Kate’s description. 

You give the girl a thumbs up and lay back down in your bed, above the blanket. Soon enough, the brunette says goodbye and you wave to her as she walks out the door.

Now you blink and fully turn to Yelena, letting her know that Kate had to go help her mother. The blonde nods and you lean back in your chair taking a sip of your coffee. You close your eyes at the taste of it, humming lightly, but by the time you open your eyes, you find Yelena practically staring you down. In shock, you splutter and cough, almost choking on the liquid actively going down your throat. 

She blinks and mumbles something before taking a small bite of the food. A second later, she speaks up again. “I apologize for being an asshole the other time you bumped into me,” she awkwardly sips her drink. “Not that it’s an excuse but my sister kept bugging me that day about stuff.” 

You shake your head and tell her that it was alright. Situations like that weren’t ones you felt like you were in a place to judge on. You had no siblings, and clearly weren’t close in contact with your parents, but you could relate because you’ve had your fair share of days like that with Kate. Distantly, you can tell that Yelena still feels a little bit bad but she hides it quickly, and you don’t find it appropriate to call it out.

Suddenly, she says your full name, causing you to be confused briefly. “That’s it, right? Your name.”

Your eyes snap to her in suspicion. How did she know your full name? You think back to buying the pastry, and you only remember saying your first name.

… 

Green eyes scan over the menu hung on the wall behind the register. Her finger taps the side of her jaw as she hums. You look at her side profile. A metaphorical lightbulb is turned on in your head as you remember that you didn’t even know her name yet. 

“Hey,” you say, “What’s your name?”

She pauses, processing what you asked, and cranes her head to face you. Her baby face wrinkles up slightly. “Did I not introduce myself to you?”

You shake your head no, stopping when she herself shakes her head no. “You’re funny.”

You itch your face in thought. “What’s my name then?”

She squints at you, brows furrowing as she thinks and soon enough, shock fills her features. “Oh my God, I never introduced myself” The girl looks absolutely flabbergasted at the revelation and you snort at her antics, confused how someone could be so seemingly grounded to the world but also so unaware of everything around them.

“My name is Yelena,” she responds a bit sheepishly, as if someone as confident as her could be embarrassed about something as simple like that. Pretty people like her don’t feel pity for the outcast like you, and vaguely you wonder if it’s all a kind act. Mulling it over, you decide to cast the thought aside for later and focus on the task at hand. You notice her accent is so apparent that you plan on asking about it if you two get the chance to talk further and this really isn’t all an act. 

You give her your first name with a polite smile and she tries saying it. As she speaks, you realize that you sort of like the way that she says it, her accent complimenting your name very well, and you think that maybe she is someone friendly, and you should chance getting to know her just in case.

“How do you know my last name,” you ask confusedly. She raises her eyebrows as she drinks more coffee from her quickly draining cup. 

“I have a class with you. Criminal Law? Our teacher said everyone’s names on the first day and I saw you reply to it,” the blonde states.

You nod and take a deep breath, wondering if she had paid that much attention to everyone or just you, and why she remembered it. Yelena slowly eats the rest of her pastry, save for a singular bite, while you think. 

“You know, I think my sister comes here sometimes,” she chimes after a few minutes.

You look at her in the eyes, reminded of the green eyes you were trapped in two weeks ago. The same eyes that have been swirling around in your head for two weeks. “Oh really?”

She nods and continues. “I’m sure you’ve probably been here while she’s been here, at least once. She gets a coffee like every other day or something.” She groans. “I get the stuff is good but she’s so dramatic. Such a poser, acting like she doesn’t have a fancy shmancy coffee machine inside her own home.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. You don’t answer with words, but huff out a laugh instead. 

The rest of the time that the two of you spend together is spent with laughter and getting to know each other better. You eventually ask about her accent and she admits that her and her family are Russian. She shares very few details about her mother and father, and that she has a sister who has a wife. She also admits that they had lived in Ohio for a while when she was a kid. You notice that there seems to be much more to the story, but don’t bring it up. 

You enjoy learning about her and haphazardly, you think that you wouldn’t mind bumping into her over and over again if it meant you two could hang out again. Eventually, she asks about you, and you tell her a little bit about yourself as time goes on. You also mention how much you adored the cat at the shop, Sunkist. 

Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn’t there for whatever reason today but you sheepishly told Yelena maybe you two could come back to see him some time. The blonde agreed, stating that it sounded like a nice idea, then had an especially hard time with his name, muttering about how weird Americans were with their pet names sometimes. You could only chuckle at her various comments.

Eventually, you both finish up and begin to walk back to campus, you eyeing the coat in her arms and apologize again for messing it up. She waves it off, mentioning how she ended up having fun today and so it was apparently worth it. 

“Besides, I’ll just wash it when we get back. No big deal,” the woman speaks calmly.

Once back on campus, you realize you have to part ways when she turns to you abruptly. “Give me your phone,” she says, bordering on demanding you once more. You raise an eyebrow at her but follow the command nonetheless. She types in her phone number, creating a contact for herself before handing your phone back to you. She smiles at you. “Promise not to leave me waiting like one of those wives longing for her husband at war?” 

You cast an odd look at her. You laugh as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, looking at her with eyes full of mirth. “I promise Yelena,” you roll your eyes. 

“No rolling of the eyes, do you promise to text me дурачок?” Cocking an eyebrow at you, she smirks smugly and you groan sarcastically. “Why yes my dear Yelena, I promise to send you letters whilst I’m at war. No such tussling should tear our love apart. Take care of dear Sunkist for me until I return,” you jest, the back of your hand coming to your forehead as you dramatically act it out, lightly tapping into your acting minor as you do so. 

This earns her approval as she smiles, pats your shoulder, and walks away with a shake of her head. You mimic her, shaking your own head with a smile on your face and finally returning to your dorm. Entering quietly, you notice Kate still isn’t there by the time you’re laying back in bed, so you shoot her a text asking if she’s okay and when she’ll get back. 

You shift to the side, Wanda’s hand slides down over your pants, palm gently cupping your mainly soft bulge, and trailing her nails around it. Your eyes lock onto her traveling hand with a quickening breath and a growing blush. “Wanda, you don’t have to-” you say, eyes not leaving her teasing hand. She huffs softly, and you don’t have to look up to know exactly what kind of smile she bears on her face, “Oh but I want to,” the woman drawls. 

“Quite the anomaly you are, hm? Not often you find someone quite like this,” she pauses, “In fact, I’ve never seen somebody like you before. Not that I got much exposure to different kinds of people in Hydra.” As she speaks, her hand runs up your tight stomach and drags her nails down to your slowly growing bulge. You groan helplessly, not wanting to be desperate and rub into her hand, embarrassing yourself in front of you. 

The brunette hums, shifting to rest her head on her hand, laying on her side, mirroring your desperate form. “I think it’s about time I get to have my way with you, wouldn’t you agree, detka?” 

You breathe out heavily, gulping and nodding in response to her question, too entranced by her shifting hand to peel your eyes away. Wanda gets on her hands and knees, crawling over your body and using her hands to start pulling off your pants. She smiles cheekily, seeming as if she wants to say something to you but doesn’t, when you lift your hips to assist her. Once your pants are fully off, Wanda finally lets her gaze travel over your very well fitted boxers and the straining bulge concealed by the fabric. She coos softly, taking a breath before slowly reaching a hand out. When her hand makes contact with your member through the thin fabric, your eyes flutter shut momentarily as you shiver intensely. 

Wanda coos again, fingers trailing along the length. Ideas of what she could do to you run through your mind while she gently touches you, now pushing you to breathe heavier and at full mast in her hands.

“W-wanda,” you whisper with a stutter, scared to speak too loudly and break the moment or startle the woman off. She hums again, not fully a response to you, but more of an acknowledgment that you said something at all. Somehow, her disregard only turns you on more.

She shifts again, now crawling upward and straddling your hips with her bare pussy pressed against your clothed member. Your hips buck into her unintentionally as you gasp in shock. Wanda bites her bottom lip with a smile, subtly starting to shift her hips and enjoying your heaving breaths and groans as she gets bolder and bolder. Before long, she’s outright humping you and moaning deliciously whenever her clit is rubbed in the right way. Meanwhile, you softly hold her thighs with mildly trembling hands and moan at her cunt rubbing over your length. “Wanda-” you moan her name, earning a moan from her in response as her clit is rubbed again. You’re so tempted to grab her hips and rub her faster and harder until you cum, or rip your boxers off and push her ankles over your shoulders while you pound into her, ultimately cumming inside of her. Instead, you train your hands to hold her thighs gently and let her go at her own pace. “I can hear your thoughts, you know,” she says with her heavy accent, causing you to groan at the somehow obscene sound- despite it just being her voice. She chuckles softly, “And I can feel your hands shaking-” one of her hands runs its nails down your stomach again, plucking at the waistband of your boxers. “-And how badly you want me.” 

She characterizes her last words by a harsher roll of her hips that makes your breath hitch and a whiny moan come tumbling out. “Oh Wanda,” you start before finishing the thought, “Please.”

Her eyes widen at the pleading sound of your voice, hips faltering and muscles tensing. For a second, you worry that somehow you’ve scared her and she’ll go running to someone in the compound screaming about how much of a freak you are with your weird body. The thought leaves your mind just as quickly as it had entered because soon she has recovered and takes action. Wanda pulls you up to a leaned back position where you brace yourself on your elbows, and she kisses you hard and passionately. Quickly, Wanda starts rutting her hips against you as she moans into the kiss and you find it hard not to completely swoon for her in the moment. Your tongue pushes into her mouth gently as one of your hands grabs her hips and moves along with her. 

The woman nods gently as you assist her, and she groans throatily at the feeling of your hard length rubbing against her while you do your best to shift your hips to aid in her pleasure. Both of your moans and groans mix together in a pleasurable symphony, Wanda’s face is contorted beauty. She bites her bottom lip every now and then, only released when she opens her mouth in an elongated ‘O’ shape while she gasps in pleasure. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she looks down at you passionately, occasionally getting so overwhelmed in the moment and kissing you sloppily. You don’t even have to think about what you must look like to know that you must be a hot mess at this point. 

Something eager shoots from your pounding heart, pooling into your stomach and moving like lightening, shooting straight down into your covered region being graced by Wanda’s moving hips and you know what the feeling means. Before you can think about your actions, you grab her hips a little harder and make her grind down on your cock. Shoving your face in her neck, you mark her more and more, trying to hide the smile of knowing what’s to come. Though all too soon, you can tell she’s starting to get exhausted when you’re so close and you grab her waist. Wanda yelps as you flip her back onto the bed and shove your hips fully into hers. She breathes heavy, blushing face looking at you confusedly while you press against her, panting like a dog. 

“Wanda,” you say, voice deep and raspy from over use. What you say is breathy and you swear you can feel Wanda get even more turned on the more you talk. “Can I use you,” you say, looking at her pathetically, waiting for her permission to get yourself off on her like this. Softly, she nods in shock and you immediately start back up. Her legs go over your shoulders and your sweaty, muscular body begins moving to grind yourself against her bare core. 

Your hands land beside her head, you staring straight down at her as you get closer and closer to where you want to be. “Fuck,” she whispers to herself as she eyes you. Your tense abs, tight boxers smeared in her arousal, strong arms pinning her where she is, face contorted in bliss, and your begging, needy expression. Just the idea of you asking her permission to use her like this was enough to hook her on you, and seeing how submissive you truly are only turns her on more. 

Quickly, your grunts and groans are turning into heavy breaths and small whines scattered throughout the music you’re creating for her. A shiver crawls up your back and you look away from her as a wave crashes heavily over you- your hips jerking and stalling. Swift on her feet, Wanda reaches for your face and brings you to look at her so she can watch you actively falling apart while she gently shifts her hips for you. 

You pant wildly, eyes lidded and wandering all over her body, unsure where to remain. Wanda eyes you intensely as you catch your breath, and her hands pet your face softly. She smiles when you lean in, truly like the puppy she thought you would be. Head empty and focused completely on her and only her just like she’s wanted you to be since you first met. 

“Come on baby, lay back down for me,” she whispers and you immediately follow the gentle command. She hopes to collar you one day if you’re into it.

Wanda slowly gets over you again, only to shuffle back a bit backwards on the bed and moves to take your boxers off with hungry eyes. Your eyes widen and a hand shoots out to stop her with a flash of fear on your red face. “Wanda, I know you already know but it’s different to actually see it,” you say with a shaking voice and a rapidly beating heart. Fear finds home in your stomach, effectively halting the moment as you voice so. “Are you sure?” 

She sighs softly, looking you in the eye with a soft look on her face, almost as if she completely understood what you were feeling. Though she probably did, considering her powers.

With a small smile, she releases the waistband and strokes your thigh comfortably. “If you don’t want to do this, then we won’t do it, but just know that I don’t think that something is wrong with you or that your body is wrong. You could never scare me off, and especially not because you’re a little different than other people,” she pauses, before continuing intensely. “I want this,” she states. “I want you.” 

A shaky sigh draws out of you, as if releasing all of the fear that had built up in your stomach, and you look at her with only a small amount of concern left in your body. 

After a second you nod. “I want this- I want you. And I want you to see all of me. I want to know that you can look at me- all of me, and see something you like Wanda,” you nod again, “you can continue and I’ll be good for you.” 

With the consent to continue, Wanda smiles softly before setting her hands back on the waistband and pulling your boxers down. Inch by inch, the fabric is pulled off, and you look away when you realize that your member is about to be seen by Wanda. With a blush, you feel your boxers being pulled down your thighs, and suddenly it stops. 

Wanda’s breath hitches and you wait for the woman to say something, but when she doesn’t, you anxiously look at her face again. What you expect to see is disgust or regret. What greets you instead is lidded eyes, blown pupils, and a hungry gaze deadset on your throbbing cock. Swiftly, your boxers are pulled completely off and Wanda sets up in front of you while you lay back, propped up on your elbows. Her sultry eyes flicker to yours before returning to their target. 

“May I touch you,” she whispers. 

You gulp and reassure her, but what shocks you is that the brunette leans down and kisses the shaft softly while one of her hands wraps around the base. “Oh,” you moan in surprise and her eyes watch yours again. She watches you intensely as she kisses more and more until eventually, her tongue licks a long stripe from the base to the start of the tip. She ignores the tip completely as she takes her time with you and you groan at the pleasure. 

“What do I do with you first,” she whispers to herself with a small smile on her lips. Your heart jumps at the sight of her. The fact that you’re being seen, and not only being perceived as beautiful, but still sexy enough to continue intercourse. 

Languidly, she gently strokes your cock as she continues thinking, and a muffled groan escapes your lips, catching her attention. Sharp eyes light up in recognition and she smiles that perfect, toothy smile at you that tells you she’s realized something. She looks at you looking at her and moves her hand a little more firmly. Your head lolls back as you sigh dreamily at the feeling, and she squeezes lightly, prompting you to yelp and look back at her with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

“Do you like it when I use you like this? Gently touching you while I’m doing my own thing?” She asks softly, already knowing the answer and simply wanting you to say it out loud. 

You roll your eyes with a small upturn of your lips, facade quickly falling and a moan escaping you as she strokes you again, this time letting her thumb gently touch your tip. “Yes Wanda, yes I do,” you say breathily, accompanied by a small whine.

You’re a pathetic, blushing mess in her slender hands. 

She hums in acknowledgement, “Then I bet you wouldn’t mind this, hm?” Wanda leans down to your member, gently kissing and sucking the sides of it while her thumb lightly plays with your swollen tip. Loudly you moan, fighting to keep your eyes open just to see how beautiful she is when she touches you like this. Quickly though, she gives up on teasing you, and moves to slowly take your entire cock in her mouth. You fight the urge to buck your hips as her warm, velvety mouth envelopes you slowly, watching as she hollows out her cheeks and takes you eagerly. Tears spring to your eyes at the feeling of it, the feeling of finally getting to be with Wanda, who you’d yearned for so desperately. Her head now bobs up and down slowly, sucking you and staring at you through her lashes while you gently caress her head. You lightly grab her hair as your hips jolt when her tongue swipes eagerly over your tip to taste your ever prominent pre cum. You grumble sweet praises her way as your head leans back and your eyes softly flutter shut finally.

Passionately, the brunette continues sucking your member, as her hand strokes whatever she can’t fit in her mouth and your climax approaches sooner than you can process. With a whimper, and a muffle of your mouth, you squirm and start trying to pull her off. “Wanda- Wanda I’m,” groans and heavy breaths continue to interrupt your stuttering and the woman continues her motions. 

“Oh Kate.”

The bed, whichever one you two had landed on, was a mess of thrown around sheets and bare limbs. “Kate, Kate, Kate,” her name a whispered chant on your lips; both sacred and secret. Her free hand intertwined with one of yours, while her other is slotted perfectly between your legs with two fingers spearing in and out of your body. Like an arrow perfectly hitting its target over and over. 

Beautiful and dark hair being held gently in your free hand, pulling her head up and kissing hers with your soft lips. “Kate,” you whisper against her lips, so close that you can feel your lips brushing together, breath mingling together as you moan softly into her awaiting mouth. Her eyes are locked on yours when she pulls away again, keeping your faces and bodies close together, as if fully pulling away would bring a curse upon her life. She mutters your name twice while her fingers pump in and out of your body, inciting you to let your eyes roll back with another breathy moan. “Look at me,” she whispers and so caught up in the bliss of it all; you don’t catch it. “What?” You mutter. 

“I said look at me.” 

Your eyes flutter back open as you take a deep breath and bring yourself to look at her again. Her beautiful eyes pierce into yours, deepening the blush on your face. Soon enough, you feel the pressure building in your body again, a fire being lit in your core as you pant and moan, clawing at the sheets and her body as you moan and chant her name like a prayer. 

When everything is about to hit the climax, she speaks again to grab your attention. “Come on honey, look at me when you cum off of my hand.” 

With one last moan, you climax hard and intensely on her fingers, fighting to keep your eyes open and look at her the whole time. By the time you’re finished riding out the high, you’re left panting, half conscious, and with tears starting to run down your cheeks from the strength. Kate makes an effort to not jostle her fingers too much in your spasming core as she leans over and kisses along your faces and over your lips again. “We both know you can handle more,” she says with a smirk like no other. 

…

Your bleary eyes blink open, greeting you with a hazy vision and a flaring up headache. With a groan, you blink and reach for your head, massaging your temples, feeling the slithering of bedsheets as you move. The bed creaks as you shuffle around to face the wall, sighing with a small whimper in pain. Your eyes, to your apparent dismay, do not escape the ever lingering sun, and with a wince, you finally sit up in your bed. 

You rub your eyes, letting your face sit in your hands for a brief reprieve, while gathering the courage to grab the pain medication you keep on your nightstand. Before you can fully process, your body has slowly and begrudgingly gone through the motions of getting up and grabbing it, dry swallowing them with a shudder. Licking your lips to moisturize them temporarily, you blink, eyelids protesting the entire way back up, and turn to Kate slowly. 

The aforementioned brunette lays in bed, drool spilling out of her mouth and snoring softly as typical when drunk. Turning away from her, you grab your clothes and shower caddy to meander your way towards the showers. Your body protests the entire way along, but once the water hits your body; life feels to return. Your dry skin soaks it up like an eager sponge, and you sigh as your hair gets wet, and the grime of last night blissfully washes away. It’s standing under the water carelessly absorbing it, that the memory of last night hits you like a train. 

You gasp, eyes opening immediately, and getting soap in them. 

“Augh!!”

You yelp in pain, rushing to rinse the shampoo out. You sigh and look down, water cascading down your face, while your hand braces itself on the tiled wall in front of you. Oxygen tears itself in and out of your lungs as you process the events that lead you to this very moment. 

Dancing with Carol Danvers, Ned’s weed, shaking hands with Peter, dancing with Kate, the thoughts, the competition you’re very sure you won somehow, and the kiss. 

Kate and you had stumbled the way home, you’re sure, but you don’t remember anything past the kiss. Even that memory is inherently, and annoyingly, fragmented, but you do remember the feeling of Kate’s hands, Kate’s lips, and Kate’s skin on yours. 

“That can’t be possible,” you mutter to yourself, nibbling on your lip and tearing at the skin while you confusedly put conditioner in your hair. “I woke up in my clothes from last night, and it looked like Kate was still in hers too. Was that all a dream?” 

It’s all so overwhelming with a fresh and stubborn hangover, and soon the horrifying realization dawns on you. To get your answer of what was a dream and what was real, you’d have to ask Kate Bishop herself. 

…

After the long, fear filled shower, the sight of the familiar door housing the source of your anxiety, only fills you with more. With a big sigh, a scrunch of your shoulders, and a shake of your torso, you open the door quietly. 

Kate now sits up in bed, skin pale and hair a mess. It’s a solid minute before she acknowledges your lingering and awkward presence, stuck in the doorway. When you finally shut the door, it feels all too loud in your brain, and your heart beats to the feet of a scared and running rabbit. 

Kate is the wolf hungry to eat, without even knowing it. 

Before leaving the showers, you had checked your underwear from the night prior. The embarrassing stains on it only added to the proof that the explicit part of last night was a dream. Regardless, your beating heart would not still, and your anxiety would not leave. Kate raises an eyebrow at your tense form, and it sets you into motion while you continue to bite your reddened lip. Once all of the shower stuff is put away and your old clothes are in the laundry hamper with your underwear hidden inside, you grab your phone off of your nightstand and crawl up into your bed. You decide to stop beating around the bush, to ease your anxiety sooner rather than letting it sit all day. 

“What do you remember from last night?” You ask her. 

Kate groans, hand wiping down her face exasperatedly and rubs her eyes while cracking her jaw. “Not much. I remember we went to the party, chatted, I found my friends, I think you and I danced for a bit, and then we went home cause it was late and we were drunk.”

“Do you remember what happened when we got home?” You gulp, noticing how she either doesn’t remember or won’t bring up the kiss. 

“Honestly, sort of? I think I drank a lot at first, but by the time we got outside to go home, I think the cool air helped me sober up. You were drunk and stumbling, grabbing onto me for support,” She chuckles lightly and flexes a muscle while you scoff. “We took the elevator because there was no way you were going up those stairs, and as soon as we got back, you went straight to bed. I would’ve taken a shower and stuff but I was too lazy to.” 

You sigh blissfully at the countenance of the night, deciding to think about why you had that dream later. Anxiety still fills your chest slightly, so you look at her and decide to hide how you feel with a joke. “Okay, cool. You should definitely shower now though. You look like shit and smell like it!”

She groans at you, flipping you the bird, before grabbing her stuff and leaving begrudgingly. 

You attempt to spend the next few minutes taking deep breaths and looking at the pictures on your wall. After quite some time, it seems to have relatively grounded you, even though your mind keeps trailing back to the dream. It must have been because of the kiss, and not anything else, right? 

Kate and you were a thing many years ago. A thing of the very distant past, and yet, maybe being back in close proximity with her has brought back some things that you never quite fully moved on from. 

You yell, squirming around in bed and shoving your face into your pillow with a loud and long groan. 

“This is too much! I’m too hungover for this bullshit. I just need an escape or something.”

Just then, a very certain coffee shop popped into your head. No doubt, you and Kate would need some very necessary energy to get through the day, and maybe if you were lucky, a very pretty redhead would be there. 

…

Before you know it, you’ve already shot Kate a text about the quick coffee run, and are well set into your walk towards the shop. 

Red hair, green eyes, and pretty features flash in your mind through your walk. Despite it being late afternoon, people bustle through the streets with bikes, cars, or just walking their dogs. As you navigate through the small clusters of people, you finally find yourself at the designated shop, and open the door, smiling at the chime it makes. 

The cashier turns around, smiling at you as you slowly approach the counter. Looking around the shop for any small changes, you find Sunkist lazily perched on a windowsill, soaking up the wonderful afternoon sun peaking through the glass pane. The shop itself is not full of people, just a few customers here and there, either looking at books or sitting at one of the tables. Truthfully, you could count the people on one hand or so. 

Piercing green eyes locked in their meeting with yours make you pause when taking your next step. Your lips part in a small gasp, a quick and bright flush rises to your cheeks as you look away sheepishly. Your eyes remain on the floor as you finish the short tread to the counter, and slowly you look at the worker, as you make your order. She chats with you lightly, you and Kate having come here so often that all of the workers recognize you both. Your mind lingers on the woman you can practically feel burning holes into your skull, and soon enough you both nod as you finish the conversation and go to sit down. 

With a gulp, you find a spot not too far away from the counter or the woman, where you can see her but she can’t quite see you unless she adjusted. Your fingers tap nervously on the table as you stare at her profile. Her red hair is pinned in curls, as her blunt nails type on some sleek and expensive looking laptop. Her nose is sharp, matching her jaw and eyebrows. Her eyes scan her screen as she types, perhaps responding to an email of some sorts. 

She wears black heels, flowing black pants, and a red dress shirt tucked meticulously into her pants and her sleeves folded just below her elbows. The light afternoon sun hits her in just the right ways, and you continue to watch as she carefully thinks out each thing she types, jaw clenching occasionally, and leg crossing over the other in thought. Every few seconds, she would move her foot, swaying it or tapping it to some beat only she must hear. Or maybe to help process her thoughts that move rapidly. Someone as composed and fancy as her must have a million and one things going on in their head, with problems much bigger than yours. 

What kind of job must she have? Is she working this weekend or is she working on her day off? 

You hum, deciding someone as serious looking as her must have some serious dedication to her life. She must be working on her day off. 

Soon, a name is called by the barista and it peaks your attention, wondering if it's yours. 

“Natasha?” 

You almost turn your attention away, having recognized that was not your name, when you notice that the redheaded woman has stood up and walked over to secure her drink. She is tall, and walks with a purpose. Her hair sways the smallest amount as she moves, and her heels clack against the floor in the most perfect way. 

She grabs her drink and sits back down, except this time she sits sideways, instead of facing her laptop sitting on top of her table. She eyes you as she takes a sip of her drink and raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at your ogling. You gulp nervously, too scared to look away, but too scared to continue. You feel your flush from earlier returning in full force.

Thankfully, your saving grace comes when an eternity later, the barista calls out your name as well. Realistically maybe 30 seconds had passed, but grabbing yours and Kate’s drinks came as a relief regardless. 

Though now you must leave to go give Kate her drink, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth as you bite your lip in decision. You go back to your chair instead of the door, and sit down, placing the cups down and opening your phone. Quickly, you shoot Kate a text saying you’ll be a moment longer due to some big line, and promising you’d get her some pastries as well as an apology. You stay on your phone a moment longer than necessary, making it seem like you were waiting for Kate’s reply, but you weren’t. No. You just wanted to seem slightly more busy than you were, and buying yourself time before having to put your phone away and looking back at the beautiful woman still eyeing you. 

After another moment, you put your phone down, and nervously look back up at the woman. She puts her cup down now, and pulls out her own phone, but what shocks you is when she looks at you through lidded eyes and mouths your name silently into the caffe. 

Your heart stops. 

Your brain stops. 

Your jaw drops. 

The way your name had flown out of her mouth so perfectly, curling around her beautiful lips. You were speechless. Secretly, you think that it would sound absolutely perfect with her voice, that you still have yet to hear. 

Her eyes have left yours, a small smirk playing on her features as she types on her phone, no longer paying any mind to you, but you have a feeling that she can see you regardless, if by the way her smile widens when you shuffle in your seat and turn away from her, says anything. 

The blush on your face is far too bright to fight away, and your heart beats wildly inside your chest. How is your heart possibly ever going to make it to your 30's?  

Before you can process it, your body has moved automatically, and you’ve grabbed the cups and stood to make your escape from the shop. Completely foregoing the pastries, you rush  home with the coffees in your hands and only one thought on your mind.

Unsettling. It’s all you could think of, when trying to put words to how you felt. 

How you felt about Romanoff. 

There was something so radiant about her, so much so, that despite your ruthless beating from your higher ups at Hydra- all you could think about was her. Vibrant, striking red hair- and a part of you couldn’t help but think- with a face as pretty as hers, and hair as recognizable as that, how could she be so slick in her identity changing? How could she continuously slip through Hydra’s grasp through the years? 

You feel as if you would recognize her face just as you recognize your own heart beating. Just as easily as you breathe- though perhaps easier than so, because sometimes you struggle to do even that. 

A swift kick to the ribs, and a groan escapes your throat, prompting another to your stomach. Amidst the crunching and cracking of the marrow supposed to protect your vital organs, you think perhaps smashing her skull in, would sound much more pleasing to your ears. 

Her harsh breathing as you tug on her silken hair, the fear in her evergreen eyes and a beautiful part of her red lips, while you admire her bloodied body. She can’t move, only waiting for your next move, hoping and praying you let her live to see another day. The horror that crosses her face when she realizes that you won’t, when you’ve finally dragged her to a rock you’ve deemed worthy of her cascading blood. On the first slam, you see her blood spurt out from her face, splattering across your body, the strong standing rock, and the beautifully awaiting snow. Her pleasure inducing, pained grunts remain short lived as you continue your efforts in caving in her skull in its entirety. By the time you’ve finished, her brain matter, skull, eyes, tongue, and blood have all mixed together in some forbidden form of soup on all of the surrounding surfaces. Her bodily substances stain the rock a wonderful maroon, and you lick your lips in temptation of the taste. 

Your eyes flick over, a bit nervously, towards Natasha’s beaten body, completely unrecognizable aside from her ripped and matted, red hair. With a smirk, you realize there’s no need to ask her for permission, and lean in to lick her presumably delicious blood off of the perfect rock you had chosen out only a few minutes prior. 

Electricity pulses through your body, a horrifying scream clawing its way through your torso and tearing its way out of your mouth at the sheer pain of it all. Distantly, scientists write down on their cheap clipboards about your reaction, continuing to study you relentlessly and completely disregarding your torture. Your body convulses and shakes in the chair violently, as you howl in pain. 

They do not let up. 

As you look to the dark ceiling above you, face paling and eyes bulging, you think. 

Natasha Romanoff’s blood tastes so absolutely divine that your body shakes in pure delight at the mixture of flavors and textures. A moan tumbles its way out of your mouth with no attempt in stopping its arrival, and you continue to lap at her secretions. 

What a kind, and wonderful sacrifice to someone as mighty and important as you. Truly humble, and truly thoughtful on her part. Never had you been given such a better gift in your life. As you look back to her crumpled, but not forgotten about body, you almost think a rotten smile graces her desecrated features. 

What a wonderful woman!

If her blood and brains taste this intense, then perhaps her skin would taste of the perfect mixture of sweet from lotion and perfume, but salty because of the sweat of battle and fear. Would certain parts of her taste differently than others? What sort of scents did she like? Sweet, musky, masculine, feminine, clean, citrusy, and would they contribute to her taste? 

Your body is thrown onto much too familiar concrete ground, once more, and a door slams shut with a heavy lock clicking into place and a beep resounding through the cracks in the wall. You lay crumpled and bleeding on the ground, much like Natasha was in your fantasy. You smirk, the irony not lost on you in the moment. Admittedly, you’d laugh if you could move your body in any possible way. 

After hours, it’s with a groan that you stand, breathing heavily as you drag your way over to the shoddy mattress covered in blood and sweat, slumped on the ground for you. It takes an //nconsiderable amount of time and you’d have crawled over to it, if that weren’t arguably more work. Once standing over the bed, you peel the dirty scraps of your clothes off, and attempt to assess the damage done to your body. Broken ribs, bruises, lacerations, and electrical burns are what greet your sore eyes, and you groan as you look away and slowly lay down on the mattress. 

It’s not the first time, and the last won’t happen until you inevitably die from this profession. 

But they won’t let you, and staring at the same dark ceiling that you usually do, helps you realize that you don’t quite mind it. A shallow breath leaves you, and you can’t fight the small smile that spreads across your face and the breath transforms into a chuckle. Natasha Romanoff. 

The Natasha Romanoff with eyes practically begging you to hurt her. With hair just waiting to be shade matched with her blood, and skin as pale as a canvas. Matte black suit asking to be ripped apart and a body perfect for feasting upon. 

When your eyes close again, you swear your dreams are filled of her. 

…

The next time you see Black Widow is on an important assignment under the dark covers of the night. Hydra agents were scattered across the building, some as staff, some as mildly important partygoers, and the rest were spread outside. Your team was outside as bodyguards, chauffeurs, strangers smoking in alleys, on the surveillance cameras, and scouting on some buildings far away. You were walking across the rooftops, eyeing the streets and the skylight to the building filled with representatives, traitors, and information.

A crash from inside startles you through your heightened hearing, and when some shouting follows, you decide to make your way over to the commotion. Crouching, you stare through the glass and scan the crowd for the possible scene. A voice crackles to life on your comm for a second, announcing that there is a small scuttle towards the bar. You find the scene, eyes widening and breath hitching when you realize just who your eyes have landed on. 

Natasha Romanoff.

Gulping, your heart thumps like an angry rabbit tapping its feet wildly in your chest, and your hand touches the glass. It’s almost as if your body sets itself on fire internally, just at the sight of her fiery red hair. 

A visibly angry man is shouting at her over his spilled drinks. She looks perfect. She looks different. Her face is different, so is her hair, and he calls her a name you remain unfamiliar with. If Black Widow were undercover, then this mission truly is important, and it may not be just her working on this task. 

She stares at him, simply standing there and letting him talk down to her, comparing her to every other ‘useless’ woman in the world. His words fly through your ears, spinning in your brain, crawling down your throat, seeping into your stomach, and sitting there, boiling. Natasha Romanoff was not like any other woman, and though he had no idea who he was talking to, he should be able to tell. No one could be as devastatingly soul stealing as her. No one could be as strong, capable, sturdy and so fragile-looking as her. No one could grapple into your brain and swing there for eternity like she could. 

You growl at the sight, nails digging into the glass with an ear grating screech as fury fills your face. He does not get to defile and devalue her in public. Only you could harm her. Only someone as gracious and special as you could bring her down. Only a God. 

Her impossibly green eyes your direction, and you move immediately, heart pounding and breath heavy. You swallow hard, your shaking hand reaching up to your communications device before stopping. Did you really want to let your accomplices know that she was there? What if they captured her and your chase was over before you got to truly enjoy it? And worse, what if it wasn’t you directly who captured her? What if someone else put their filthy and unworthy hands on her precious body?

The realization shocks you, startling you and hitching your breath. It’s deep and primal, and worst of all, growing. It’s burning and boiling. It’s something you cannot control or stop inside of yourself. You couldn’t risk her getting caught. You wouldn’t.

A sigh tumbles its way out of your lips, and your hand lowers. “Everything okay, Titan?” 

A sudden voice next to you shocks you, face paling and shock passing through your features for the briefest of seconds before schooling your features again. Your heavy eyes land on the younger and newest recruit on your team. She’s crouched beside you, sporting an all black suit equipped with a black half mask that also covers her ears, and guns. Her brown eyes, matching with her pulled back chocolate hair, bore into you. 

You nod stiffly, nodding towards the skylight. “Right, the fight,” she says, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes flick towards the window. You know from this angle she can’t see anything, but you still worry about her recognizing Black Widow. 

She hums quietly, before looking back at you softly. “They said we’re just going to keep up our tasks and if a brawl begins, we can join in. Until then, we continue.” 

You nod, wanting to ask her what she was doing up here instead of at her post, but decide against speaking. The young girl was kind, and awfully smart. She knew not to inherently talk to you, but you found that whenever she saw you, she’d try to at least wave with a smile and occasionally attempt to start a conversation. Granted, people were allowed to talk to you on missions if needed, and things like this were fine, but she would still always try to say more the necessary with you. She talks to you like a friend, and not your subordinate. 

You think while this profession may not kill you, it will kill her brutally and violently. She’s capable and will stay alive for a very long time, but she will not remain this friendly forever. 

With a now calmed heart and steady breathing, you eye her on more time, before shifting to look back into the window. You watch as Black Widow slinks off, mixing with the crowd seamlessly, and you fight to look away from her, only to realize in the very next moment that it was quite the mistake. “We aren’t the only ones here.” 

You have enough time to widen your eyes and look at the woman standing next to you, to see her say her next words. “Black Widow is inside.” Just then, a ruckus characterized by crashing, yelling, and screaming is coming from inside the building, and you both look into the window. Another voice speaks in your ear, “Deckert is compromised, everyone move in!” 

Before you can even think, you’re launching off of your feet and throwing yourself into the skylight, effectively breaking through and flying through the air for several stories down. You swing on a high priced chandelier, using a random man in a tux as a cushion to ease your landing. Your eyes scan the scene, trying to decipher who’s a normal civilian running away and who the traitors are. SHIELD agents invade from all doors, and even come in dressed as staff, meeting your reinforcements and battling it out. 

“Titan, Pyra has joined the fight, go find Black Widow and capture her!” 

Dutifully, you mutter your confirmation and take down a few SHIELD agents trying to rush you. With a final huff, and a rolling of your shoulders, you leave the immediate party room to search for Black Widow. Your team assures you that she is not in the foyer, so through process of elimination, you decide she must be in either the security rooms or some of the random back hallways of the building. Pushing through a double door, you quietly step down the dimly blue lit hallway, eyeing each door and corner you pass by, and ears strained to hear any sort of motion or signs of life. 

Suddenly, there’s a quick scraping sound and a body lands on your shoulders, body splayed out and pulling you forward with her weight. They use their momentum to swing you around, throwing you onto the floor and flipping off of you. You land harshly with a grunt, quickly standing back up and taking a fighting position. They leave you no room to adjust, immediately rushing you before sliding to the ground last minute, and moving to kick your Achilles heel to throw you to the ground again. 

You recognize the move, instead timing your move carefully. As the leg swings, you hop, step over it, and use the momentum to kick your other leg up and kick your foot into their head as hard as you can. A raspy grunt greets you as your foot makes contact, and you shuffle away, trying to see who your attacker is. 

Sliding around and standing into a fighting pose, fiery red hair and striking green eyes greet you, and your breath hitches, body tensing up. Red, dark blood runs down her nose just as liquid electricity runs through your body and sends shocks through your core. Your fists clench tighter, and she awaits your next move. It’s a split second realization, and yet it brings such intense feelings to you. Her blood makes your heart race and your head swim deliciously. It feels like eternity. 

“We meet again,” your unused and strained voice mumbles behind your mask, and she raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Have we met before?” She rasps.

You furrow your brows. Right. You were a wolf then, and now, you’re not. You sport a full face mask, designed with ribs, eye specs, and small blue lettering saying ‘021’ on the side of your jaw. It was your designated number in the Vessel program. You had been subject 21, Project Titan. 

Aside from your mask, you sported your usual stakeout uniform. Black boots, black cargo pants holding guns and knives, and a black long sleeved compression shirt. On your over layers, you sport a long coat with a hoodie to cover the top of your head, and shoulder, elbow, and knee pads. You also have chest armor, to block any potentially killing shots. You could heal from everything else, but not a shot to the heart in the middle of a battle. 

Due to you not being very physically enhanced by your powers, you needed more physical protection, but not too much that it’ll prevent you from transforming if needed, and your best work was done either scouting or causing devastating damage in your enhanced animal forms- so human to human battle was not what you were best trained for. 

They did not have the necessity or resources to focus on training you, over more important people. You were isolated from what you weren’t needed for. 

You bite your lip and shake your head, “No. We haven’t.”

Looking at her eyes, and eyeing her blood, your body restarts, and you mentally join the fight again. After standing in place, waiting for her to make a move, you finally make yours. You throw punches, swing kicks, dodge, and take her hits whenever you need to. She tries to make a few advanced moves on you, some you fall victim to, and some you dodge by pure adrenaline and instinct. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you realize little to none of your hits are landing on Black Widow, and when the realization hits that she’s going easy on you, everything shuts off. Your swings get harder, aching and hoping to draw more of her blood, or hear her bones crunch, or even get another delicious grunt of pain to force its way out of her throat. 

However despite your aching desire, she seems to get fed up with you, and sends two electric spiders your way. They connect, sending excruciating jolts of electricity coursing through your stiffened body. You groan in pain, body convulsing and face going red under your mask. You watch as Natasha mumbles into her own comm and runs away from you, presumably to the security room to collect information. 

By the time you begin to black out, you hear hefty boots marching your way, before screams and flashes of orange light and heat behind the entrance door. The faint silhouette of Pyra, the younger recruit from earlier, comes rushing towards you, grabbing the spiders and hoisting up your ragdolled body. Your vision leaves you as you remain slouched over her back while she leaves. 

A cold and calloused hand meticulously grips your shoulder, familiar but not comforting. Your body does not jostle with the force or roughness, staying rigid and ready to go for what will be another euphoric moment of blind mauling. You stare at the rickety and metal door ahead of you, just waiting to be pulled open by the metal surrounding it; just as ready to pounce as you are. The jet shakes around you, and the gruff male voice scratches against your ears in the same way a cheese grater scrapes against metal. The sensation rouses you deliciously, the following words being repeated in your mind like a mantra, comforting, and well known; as if the grooves in your brain were these words in an ultra fine print. 

“Beginnen, Schnee, Schrecklich, Euphorie, Güterzug, Teufel, Verloren, Reue, Haut, Erneuert.” 

Begin, snow, terrible, euphoria, freight train, devil, lost, regret, skin, renewed.

“Wölfe.”

Wolf.

The hand lets go of your shoulder, and the deep voice does not talk again as your body seemingly hums to life while the hangar door begins its ascent, slowly revealing the outside world. Light creeps up in a broad line, crawling up your feet and providing fear to those around you. Glowing eyes eagerly eye up each inch of land being revealed by the opening door, and a tentative voice speaks up with a stutter. “S-sir?” 

Irritated eyes flick impossibly quick to the meek voice, and the shaking young man resumes his words while the soldiers around you tense with anticipation. “I-is there a point to all of this? I mean, what exactly is our mission- our- our goal here- in Hydra?” 

He sputters and stumbles over his own words, and before he can process it, your hand shoots out and your sharpened, black nails skewer into his deep brown eyes, digging deep into his brains and spewing the infamously sticky, red, substance and matter over his fellow soldiers and yourself. Questions are not needed in this field of work. Only obedience. You think, as the men around him look away sharply with tensed jaws, having known this was coming the second he had spoken up in the first place. Everyone knows not to look or talk to a project like you. Only your handlers were permitted to do so, otherwise, the result was always imminent and invasive death. 

“You want to win this war? Know what you’re fighting for,” you mutter quickly and darkly to the soldiers around you as a strict reminder and placement, your words striking like acid being spit into their brains. 

It is at that moment that the door is finally fully opened up, drawing your attention with an eye roll and a snarky smile. Your excitement having been ruined, you take a breath and wave two fingers forward, sending the Hydra reinforcements into the battlefield. With a quick jerk of each arm and a stiffening of your shoulders, you lick your teeth and snap your jaw twice in adjustment. In a heavy step, your body stiffens, muscles thickening and just barely starting to contort into a different being altogether. Drool pools and pours from your mouth as your tongue elongates and thins like taffy left in a hot car. With heavy breaths bordering on animalistic growling, teeth grow at a pace your body tries to match desperately. Visceral sounds of bone crunching, skin tearing, and cloth ripping resonate as you step further and further out of the hangar, the muted and grey light of the sun consuming your body as your feet begin to quicken their tread on the fresh and pale snow. Nails, long and imperatively sharp allow you to rip off your loosened and ripping face, leaving it in the wake of your jog in the snowy forest of Russia. Growls and shouts rip their way from your throat, guttural and reminiscent of some horrible movie series you had watched once many years ago. With a massive trail of blood leading behind, your skin has now been fully shed like a lizard and your body successfully transforms. 

Skin regrows quickly, fur sprouts and thickens all over your body as you stumble, panting and growling wildly, drool dripping out of your mouth in bucketfuls by the time you’ve finished. A few seconds later, you’re able to shake it off and return your eyes to the battlefield awaiting you through the thick line of trees around you. With a monstrous roar that shakes the world around you, giant and padded feet thud against the ground as you charge forwards with reckless abandon. 

Moving forwards at a rapid pace, you eyes the surroundings, taking in the mass amounts of snow and a rabbit well blended with it’s environment is what sends your mind into an unwilling recounting memory. 

…

“Dear rabbits,” little you wrote. “I am sorry I had to kill you today. My mommy told me to and I didn’t want to but I can’t disobey my mommy anymore. I don’t know if you saw but I cried a lot. They kept trying to take you from me but I didn’t want to let you go. Mommy told me to never cry over killing again and that I needed to learn killing was a part of living now. Next time, I’ll be strong for momma and I won’t cry anymore. Next time, I’ll eat you! My mommy says rabbits are delicious!” 

A messy and scribbled drawing of a small gathering of rabbits adorned your paper, the bunnies being unassuming but filled with fear anyways, pure and enraging as fresh snow. That’s right; next time you would be stronger. Rabbits are delicious. 

…

“Titan 701!” 

A man’s voice is distant in your head as your eyes refocus on the world rapidly surrounding you; gunshots and death. 

Hydra soldiers duck with the shout of the code, leaving SHIELD agents confused as the ground shakes with your snow cushioned, heavy approach. Trees bristle while you glide past, and soon you break through the line with a leap, landing and effectively crushing agents dressed in blue with a bid logo. Birds are always so weak. So easy to be taken out of the sky, wings clipped, and only able to desperately call for help. Useless in the heat of a battle. 

The remaining SHIELD agents yell in horror, shooting at your body, rendered useless in your thick pelt. You huff, sprinting at them with a furious growl and a frightening jumble of moving muscles and snapping teeth while you bite groups in half and crush the others. It’s a bloody massacre around you, as you bat away some annoying soldiers with your heavy paws with a smile laced with the blood of their trusted comrades. 

The Hydra men you had jumped in to join had already moved onto another sector, knowing you’d have this handled easily and they’d only get killed by you as collateral. Another man’s voice, not from the comm diligently placed in your ear, echoes into your ears. “Now what in the demon hell is that?” 

An arrow flies your way from the trees, and dully thumps into your forehead uselessly. A silent curse is muttered by him as your eyes cruelly spot Hawkeye from the bushes in the distance. With a small wag of your tail and a growl, you chase after the running archer, far too excited to listen to his seemingly fearful mutterings. Clint Barton, more known as Hawkeye of the Avengers Initiative, began by Nick Fury of SHIELD. He was a staple of the team, well under the radar in terms of power, but a strong mental and emotional support beam of the impromptu gaggle of heroes. 

It would be wise to take him out here and now, despite him not being your designated target. 

Chasing him through the trees joyfully, you know he realizes he can’t outrun you as his small heart skyrockets, like the scared pure-as-snow rabbits from all those years ago. You can practically smell the fear radiating off of his sprinting form. Just one more second and you can snap your awaiting jaw around his body. 

“Cap, now!” He yells and your eyes have a millisecond to widen before a vibranium shield is being thrust your way with as much might mustered in a short moment. With a yelp and a brace for impact, it slams brutally into your ribs and pushes you to stumble to the side. The disk falls to the floor with a metallic thunk, and you grunt and huff through the pain shooting from your midsection. The pain is familiar to you. Familiarly broken ribs don't make it hurt any less. 

Your large, black nose twitches as you shake and survey the area, deciding to move on with the pain. Faintly, you hear someone call through your comm that you’ve been hit. You disregard them. 

With a snarl, you turn towards Captain America, knowing he can’t be too much of a threat to you without his precious shield. He stares at you, huffing and undoubtedly talking into his own comm, and you watch him, huffing and thinking. Though he isn’t quite your target either, you can’t help but think of your first fight with a jackal. You were young, and it was your first matched fight with an animal. Something equally as dangerous as you. Think. What can you do to take down the red, white, and blue clad man? Despite being not as dangerous without his shield, he was still a super soldier, and a threat you had not quite faced yet. 

The fur bristles on the back of your neck, standing on end and you lean forward slightly, ready to pounce. You wait for him to move, and he awaits for you. You blink. An idea comes to mind.

Right as he believes you are about to charge towards him, you turn and make rounds across the outskirts of the clearing he stands in. You figured if you were going to risk it all, you might as well take out as much of their reinforcements as you possibly could. Distinctly, you stayed away from the Avengers as much as possible as you trampled, ate, body slammed, and threw their help away. At some unknown point, caution was thrown to the wind as well, and you had gone back to your merciless and thoughtless slaying, even catching some of your own help in the mix as collateral while you wreaked havoc. The only thought in your mind, an obsessive and dark one. Kill. 

Kill. 

Kill them all. Everyone is replaceable. 

“Never cry over a fucking rabbit again, do you hear me?”

Kill.

“You will kill them all, Titan.”

Kill. 

“Dear rabbits,”

Kill!

“Next time, you’ll be my lunch!”

KILL!

“I bet you’ll be delicious.”

“TITAN!”

The gruff voice halts you in your tracks, everything a fuzzy and forgotten haze, despite the evidence of ruthless murder covering your aching body, and laying forgotten in your wake. “Titan return! Too many of us have been wiped, we cannot risk you getting caught now,” a voice, the same man that had activated your transformation earlier, spoke now through your comm. With a grumble and a snarl, you acknowledge him, pressing forward to trek back to the jet and kill whoever you can in the process, and that’s when you see her. 

Red hair, black bodysuit, shooting bullets and spraying small, electric, spiders. You halt in your tracks, eyeing her unblinkingly as her raspy voice shouts into her own comm, announcing what she thinks looks to be the retreat of your forces. She does a quick look around to ensure her spot is safe from any ambushers, and in the process, spots your head poking out from a tree. She gasps- such an imperceptible and small movement, that the regular eye would deem it to just be her lips parting in a simple breath. Her gun is quickly aimed at your head in defense. You breathe smoothly, almost grunting at her as if saying ‘really?’

She seems to get your incentive and shrugs her head and shoulders in response. “I think I found your doggy, Clint,” she says slowly and with a small smirk, still eyeing you down carefully. Your eyes lock onto her, feeling as if the world around you two fades out completely- even the yelling in your own comm. You step closer, panting, with white fur coated in her coworkers blood, and ribs aching fervently. 

Black Widow stands there, panting just as heavily as you, also exhausted from the exertion of fighting. “You gonna eat me too?” She asks with an upward tone to her voice, but the question is genuine at the same time. 

Black Widow is not your target. You had already failed with your target, and received orders to return. You don’t need to kill her. But her pale face and matte suit, complimented by her strikingly red hair and green eyes were so tempting. Just imagining it covered in her undoubtedly beautiful crimson blood, was enough to get you excited again. That determined light in her eyes, draining due to your own care, excited you to no end. It was a new fascination. A new obsession. 

Natasha Romanoff.

“Two minutes, Titan,” the man says, and you snap out of your reverie, jaw closing with a lick of your teeth and your ears perking up. You take in your surroundings, realizing her striking and painted beauty was one of her greatest traps and the longer you stayed here, the more likely you were to be captured by more than just her hypothetically beautiful death. Her brows furrow. “You’re not going to hurt me, right?” 

The tone of her voice is sickeningly sweet, almost luring you back in. You imagine this is how she must reel the Hulk in. Fake softness. 

With a final grunt sent her way, you snarl and sprint off towards your awaiting ride, having heard the many soldiers approaching her location rapidly. You resist looking her way one last time, knowing the sight of her standing in the small clearing, pale skin and red hair, stunning against the white of the snow, would pull you right back in. A woman not like any rabbit you’d seen before. No. Black Widow was far more dangerous. 

The second you’re small enough to fit in the jet, the hangar is closed and they takeoff immediately, some nondescript, battle beaten, soldier handing you some simple clothes to change into and distantly you know you should be fearing the punishment you know you’ll get when you return to your home base, yet you can’t stop thinking of her. 

Like the biggest prize you had ever seen, was just dangled dangerously close to your face, and you had just left it behind. 

It had finally been about two weeks since classes had started up and you have to admit, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. With Kate’s encouragement, you had decided to join the Theatre Club and Art Club. They had seemed interesting and considering you were minoring in theatre, it made sense for you to join the club. Art was a bit of a stretch as you were majoring in law, but art had always interested you from a young age. With the amount of times Kate had seen your doodles and deemed them the best in the world- she had practically begged you to join the art club. 

The clubs wouldn’t start until the third week into school so that people had time to get fully adjusted and classes had time to start assigning work and rules. So far, your favorite class was Civil Procedure. Your professor was an exuberant guy who seemed to be the right amount of professional and personal. He was genuinely interested in what he seemed to be teaching, while not being too exasperated or childlike. Most of your other professors had been focused on work and introductions with rules, while he had handed out a packet of what to expect and questions to get to know you. 

You think back to the first day of school.  

You and Kate had just returned from your morning coffee run, an every other day occurrence now, chatting amongst yourselves as you walk towards the education building surrounded by students like yourselves. You continue talking until you get to the point where Kate has to go upstairs while you stay downstairs. The brunette stops, jutting her thumb towards the staircase and turning to you, “I go this way.” 

With a hum, you respond your class is down the hallway and she sighs. “So I guess this is bye for now then, huh?” 

Kate hugs you, both of you releasing your nerves into the hug as you squeeze each other tightly. “Gosh,” you say, “This is just like freshman year of highschool,” you laugh. Kate’s body rumbles with light laughter as she pulls away with a deep breath. “See you later, okay?” She asks. You nod in confirmation, patting her arm firmly. 

You wish each other good luck as you turn and begin walking to you irrespective classes. With a coffee in one hand, and a backpack strap desperately clutched in your other, you tread down the hallway nervously. Since highschool had hit, you had started experiencing major school anxiety and now, it felt like you were right back to square one. In your years of highschool, you shared many classes with Kate, something you were beyond grateful for, and it had eventually helped with your attendance. Now, despite majoring in law together,  you only shared one class with her and it was not the one you walk to now. 

With a deep breath, you sheepishly open the door and eye the teacher leaning over his desk while looking at a sheet of paper. He stands upright, flicking his glasses to the top of his head and looks at you with a charming smile, “Go ahead and sit anywhere,” he states before leaning back over and squinting at the paper again. He mutters to himself as you find a seat and finally sit down. As the minutes go by, the classroom fills up with more and more kids until it is pretty much packed and class begins. Professor Vision, he had requested to be called, began by calling attendance from the sheet of paper you had seen him reading before. After ensuring everyone in the room was supposed to be in his class, he began talking about expectations, rules, work load, and handing out a packet that listed all of which he had just stated. “Now, if you flip to the next page, you’ll see some questions. Do not fret,” he laughs, “It’s just some personal questions about how your summer was, highschool experience, and general things to get to know you and what kind of teacher you’ll need me to be.” 

Before you know it, the blonde man has smoothly glided into the next topic of a small lesson to see what you already know in terms of what general civil procedure might look like. As you observe him talk and go through various things you should know, time flies by in an effortless flow and the bell rings, signalling your time in that class completed. He says goodbye to you all as you leave his class and you have to admit- college is kind of cool. 

Break time begins, and you shift your way down the hallways full of students while looking at your phone for Kate’s location. With a nod to yourself, you find she is at the koi fish pond and begin making your way down a different hallway to get to the side door closest to the pond. Chatter fills the hallways rapidly and once you finally burst out of the side doors, you deflate with a sigh, not realizing how loud it had been inside. A minute later, you’re close enough to the koi fish pond where Kate spots you and runs towards you, swooping you in a bountiful hug, lifting you up easily and twirling. 

Laughter rumbles in your lungs as you’re finally set down again and look up at the tall brunette. She quickly takes your hand, delving into how her class went and asking about yours while walking back to the pond. All in all, you had gathered that Kate’s Criminal Law class was really cool and that she had met two girls who seemed really nice. When she’s done, you talk to her about your teacher and personal experience. By the time both of you are done, the bell rings and you start walking back to the educational building. 

…

Blinking, you return to the present as you sit in your own Criminal Law class, studying what has been written on the whiteboard. After spending proper time listening to her lecture, analyzing the text, zoning out, and writing down what you conclude, you are dismissed for the day as your other teacher has sent an email the night prior about not being there due to a scheduling conflict with his dentist. 

With a sigh, you pack up your bag and leave the classroom, swiftly crossing to your dorm building with relief on your face as you begin to walk back to your dormitory. “A nap sounds real good right now,” you mumble to yourself. The weather is quite refreshing every time that you must step outside. A gentle breeze blows through you, as birds land on branches, causing the remaining morning dew to drip onto the plush grass surrounding it. It wasn’t disgustingly hot, nor was it frigid. The clouds occasionally covered the sun, providing the perfect amount of momentary shade. It was peaceful in a sense. The woman's green eyes flash in your mind for the first time in days as you look at the shades of green surrounding you. You still haven’t seen her at the coffee shop after that.

Your phone pings loudly in your earbuds, effectively pausing your music and startling you out of your stupor. Whipping said device out, you quickly type a reply to Kate and continue the walk to your dorms. Kate had most of the same professors as you did, considering you both studied law but in some miraculous way, you only had one class that lined up. It was an unfortunate circumstance but nothing you could do about it now as neither of you felt it was important enough to change things up. 

Your best friend had one more class for the day and then she’d be heading back to the dorms as well. You two had running plans that would take place shortly after her return to the room. Deftly, you unlocked the door and made your way into the room, making a bee line into your bed. The curtain in front of your window had been pulled open earlier in the morning, but you weren’t about to complain about the natural light. The subtle built up warmth from the sun infiltrated your room ever so slightly and once you got cozy in your bed, you felt yourself feeling a bit tired. 

Snuggling into your pillow, you exhale deeply and let your eyes flutter shut. 

What feels to be seconds later, Kate enters your dorm singing. “Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!”

You grumble in response. “I just fell asleep Kate, do we still have to run?”

You don’t have to look at her to know she’s smirking at you while rolling her eyes. “You’ve been asleep for the whole duration of my class if your lack of reading my texts is anything to go by,” she states. “And yes, we are still going on that run.”

A minute or two later, you rise out of your bed like a zombie crawling out of its grave, and Kate stifles a laugh at your somber form. She hands you a water bottle and makes you look out the window to wake you up while she gets your clothes together. Somehow, she’s right, and you end up feeling more awake by the time you turn around to get changed. In a short 15 minutes, you are both ready to go on an afternoon run. 

Kate finishes tying her hair back, and you exit the dorms. Swiftly, you’ve already exited the building and break into a jog with the brunette. You put your earbuds in, but ensure to leave your music a bit quieter so you can still hear the girl in case you need to. She does the same as it was one of the few rules you had when going on runs together. God, you hated runs.

You both cross the street and jog in place on the corner of the sidewalk. You would lead the run today so you would choose where to go. As you think of where to go, you turn around to make sure that Kate is ready. When she nods, you begin to run down the mostly empty sidewalk. With a smile, you turn around and look at Kate keeping up with you absolutely effortlessly. Occasionally, you entirely forget she’s a professional athlete in many, many things. You roll your eyes and speed up, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

Despite a burning in your lungs and a stitch in your side, you run on. You have no idea how long the both of you have run until you make your way into some sort of a local park. You seem to have traveled far enough that you have no idea where you are. You don’t remember any parks like this anywhere near your college. Though, it’s scenic in every sense. Lined with plush grass and gorgeously grown trees. Hydrated and taken care of, unlike you. Currently, you not so scenically gasp for air on the side of the path, sweat dripping down your body, causing your shirt to cling to your back. Kate stands close to you, rubbing your sweaty back as she herself catches her breath. You always love the idea of running but end up hating the actual running itself, and you constantly forget until it is too late. 

Kate hums and sits down on a bench nearby, wiping the sweat from her brow with a chuckle at your fragile form. She eventually leans her head back with a big sigh, breathing through her nose with closed eyes. You look at her, your parted lips about to give a dry comment about how evil running is when your breath catches in your throat. Kate has always been your best friend, but even now, even after everything, you still couldn’t deny that she was annoyingly attractive. She was anything anybody could want. 

Slender, toned, 5’8, long and beautiful hair. She’s kind, caring, and sarcastic. She’s got everything. Sports, money, happiness, looks, attitude, support. She is your total opposite. Not in the yin and yang sense, or opposites attract kind of way. Just in the way that you felt she complimented you perfectly. 

You groan and flop onto the bench beside her. “I hate you,” you mumble. She chuckles at you, “This was kind of your idea, you know.” 

You groan dramatically and look away from her. You mumble a ‘whatever’ and continue to take in the scenery. Eventually, Kate decides to walk through the park with you and you end up spending so much time there that the sky starts to shift into pinkish and orange hues. You both know that you need to leave soon to get back to the college by dark. 

Soon you begin to jog back, huffing every so often. “You know, your mom called my mom again,” she says, suddenly looking away from you. You kept moving but your brows furrowed and you now huffed with annoyance. “And how did that go?” 

She chews on her lip, a nervous habit she does only on occasion. “The usual I guess. Asked how you were doing, where you were at. My mom texted me while I was heading back to the dorms,” she says softly, worried about you getting too upset. 

You furrow your brow even more in thought. Your mother was not the kind of person who genuinely worried about you, especially not enough to go and call someone else. You know she doesn't like Eleanor either. This isn’t the first time she has done this. 

You sigh, “Tell your ma that I’m sorry about her. I honestly don’t know how she keeps finding ways to contact you guys.” Kate’s eyes widen and she whips her head to you. “You don’t need to be sorry! We really don’t mind it and we love you, you know? Mom’s got a soft spot for your weird ass. It’s no issue, I just figured I’d let you know rather than something happening and you finding out in a really bad way.” 

Kate smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back at her kindness. Her generosity. “Thank you Kate.”

…

The pair of you finally make it back to the dorms and immediately grab your necessary materials to hop in the showers on your floor. Your towel hangs off of your neck as you walk beside the brunette. Idle chit chat is scarcely made between you two due to your draining adrenaline. Soon, you busy yourself with the work of showering and find yourself standing under the water as you watch the shampoo cascade down your body and into the drain beneath you. You aren’t sure what to think about, feeling like your head is much too full with plaguing thoughts, but too empty to come up with anything. 

Perhaps the woman at the coffee shop. Her lustrous green eyes that felt like they were piercing your soul the second she looked at you. Her beautiful red hair cascading down her face just like the water running down your body. Beautifully sculpted nose with shapely eyebrows connected to it. Taut pink lips to adorn her already perfected jaw. You had been so focused on her face that you didn’t even know what she was wearing or what she was doing. Did the woman have a laptop? Was she drinking coffee or eating a pastry? What kind of clothes was she wearing? Casual or business attire?

She seemed older than you, but not old enough where she had wrinkles. Maybe mid 30’s? You wonder what kind of voice she would have. Soft, loud, raspy, smooth like velvet? Would she be nice or demanding?

You think about the woman over and over as your body continues the task of completing your shower. Before you know it, you’re towel drying your hair and walking back to your dorm while Kate is finishing up her own shower. It’s maybe ten minutes or so later that Kate returns to your shared dorm holding her phone with a bite of her lip. You raise an eyebrow at her, tugging at your oversized sleeping shirt and she looks at you mischievously. “Hey, so apparently there’s this party tonight at the sorority, I’m down with going if you’d like to?” 

Both of you go quiet in the room, eyeing each other in a battle of will. 

You lose. 

Kate smiles and celebrates while you sigh and look away with a small smile that you don’t let her see. Quickly, you both find some decent clothes to put on, and while Kate puts on some light makeup, you blow dry her hair. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less about showing up with wet hair or not. 

Within 30 minutes, you both leave the dorm building and venture across the campus to the sorority and frat area where music thumps and the smell of weed is prevalent even from many feet away. Internally, you don’t doubt that there’s copious amounts of alcohol inside, and though typically you don’t drink to get drunk; you felt like celebrating having made it to college and reconciling with Kate. You interlink arms and cross through the threshold of the front door. 

The air was thick with sweat, sex, and smoke already. The smell of weed and various kinds of vapes fills your nostrils as you weave through the crowds. It felt like your nose was being overloaded. The music bumps through your skull as you navigate towards the kitchen. Though you hadn’t planned on drinking much, if you were going to survive the night, it was not going to be while you were stone cold sober. With a look at Kate and a mutual nod, you both grab some vodka and take two shots each. You scrunch your face at the morbidly evil taste and Kate leans closer to your ear, almost having to shout in your ear just to talk to you. “I think some of my friends from Criminal Law are here, will you be fine by yourself for a bit? I’m just gonna go say hi!”

You nod in confirmation, unlocking your arms and watching the girl step out of the kitchen. A few minutes later, you decide to step into the main area yourself and mingle among the dancing young adults. Realizing you don’t recognize anyone, your face flushes and you lean against a wall, checking your phone when you feel it buzz in your pocket. You’ve checked all of your notifications, played a game for a bit, running out of things to do and getting more and more bored by the second so you put your phone away again and decide to go find another drink. You grab a red cup and fill it with the random red liquid sitting in a large bowl on the counter. By no means was it your first time drinking, especially at a party, but the hellish concoction in your red Solo cup sure made you feel like it. It violently burns your throat as you chug it, leaving you hunching over the counter, coughing and spluttering like a fool. You wipe your eyes as you regain your breath and move to the trashcan and throw away the cup. You furl your nose up in disgust at it as the lid closes. 

There must be some other kind of alcohol, aside from vodka and that devil's liquid you had just drank. You open the fridge and briefly you wonder where Kate was as she still hadn’t returned. 

The thought is soon forgotten as you almost cry in relief when you open the fridge and see a Mike’s Hard Lemonade inside. It looked beautifully cold and you grab it, opening it immediately. It didn’t do much to you, but it would be nice to start off with for the night. You would delve deeper into the harder stuff later in the night. You take a hearty drink of it before tightly gripping the neck of the bottle and leaving the kitchen to head towards the impromptu dance floor. Might as well let loose while everyone else won't remember tonight, you thought. 

Admittedly, you weren’t much of a dancer, but honestly, you needed to let loose for tonight just as much as Kate did. To let the worries of the week wash away under the influence of sex, alcohol, and way too loud music. Tonight was going to be a celebration for surviving the first two weeks of school successfully. 

It isn’t long before you feel contact with your body. You take a sip of your drink once more before looking down at the body brushing against yours. She stares up at you with her hands on your collarbones. She smiles and you can tell that she’s easily already blackout drunk, or close to it. You feel her hands dragging up and down your body, your fingers tapping on the bottle of your drink to the beat of the music. Right as the music reaches a crescendo, she turns around and begins to sway her hips against yours. You take another swallow of your drink and place your free hand respectfully on her hip just to ensure that if she slips, you got her. 

You and her continue for a while, her hips pushing back into yours and yours pushing forward into hers as you shift them around. Eventually, you get a wink, her name, and she disappears further into the house with her friends. Carol Danvers, you think. What a pretty name.

...

Time passes and soon it is later in the night and you’ve let loose quite a bit. Alcohol and a little bit of some random dudes weed runs through your system as you meet with Kate on the dance floor. You throw your empty cup, once filled with round two of the devil’s liquid, on the floor. You both dance and laugh together loudly. Your bodies swing and sway together to the music, mouthing the words to the lyrics in each other's faces drunkenly and messily. It’s bittersweet when it reminds you of highschool, back when you were in love with Kate.

Constant sleepovers, stealing her moms liquor, going to the roof, her room, or even outside. You’d play music, sing, and dance just like this. Both of you were too drunk out of your minds to even care that her mom probably could hear. There would be hugs, cuddles, sex, and kisses shared. You two had easily hung out at her house more times than you could remember. So much so that her mom insisted on you two living at their house but Kate wanted an authentic college experience and you knew you would follow her wherever she went. 

Kate Bishop was the kind of person that would take you out into the rain and dance with you instead of staying inside and being bummed out. Kate was the kind of person that got a cold because she purposefully hung out with you while you had the flu. 

She truly was the kindest person you had ever met. Even if she made dumb decisions that would ultimately drag you down with her. You both believed you were platonic soulmates- especially during moments like these.  Smoking together for the first time in her room was something you’d never forget as well. You were reminded of that earlier when you went with a guy to go smoke his weed earlier. He was with a friend who wouldn’t smoke as much and vaguely you think their names were Peter and Ned. They had seemed like nice guys and you distantly hope that you cross paths again in a normal setting and become friends. 

Kate tries talking to you, but your vision is too blurry to read her lips and the music is too loud in your eardrums to hear her. With a gesture for her to do so, you let her lean in close and speak into your ear. You didn’t think it would feel like it was burning as she would do so. She pulls away and your pupils are far too blown out as you stare deep into her eyes. You merely nodded and smiled as a response to what she said, knowing that she knew you didn’t hear her. She swayed on her feet, causing you some concern. Had she drunk more than you did?

Kate mumbles something then winks at you before wandering off again and you have half of a mind to follow her and take her back to your bed in your dorm. You shake your head, the thought alone beginning to sober you up. You groan and walk to another part of the building. Trying for the bathroom, you hear someone inside vomiting profusely and abandon the thought immediately. You turn around and squeeze past various kinds of bodies as you head towards the kitchen again. A drinking competition is about to commence and when you try to walk away, people you’ve never met rope you into sitting down and joining the competition. 

With enough peer pressure, you’re sitting down with drinks in front of you, people cheering drunkenly. A boy who looks around your age counts down and you take a breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. He yells to begin and you’re downing shots faster than you can think. In a blur of cheering bodies and way too bright kitchen lights, you swallow back the burning liquids they supply you with. By the end of it, you aren’t sure who wins but the people around you are talking all too loudly, the lights are too bright, and you have not had enough water for this. It's with great difficulty that you stand from your chair, wanting to go to the bathroom to vomit or sleep. 

Once more, you decide to head into the main room in an attempt to find somewhere to sleep, only to bump into Kate once more. When she turns around and makes eye contact with you, you instinctively grab the collar of her shirt and pull her closer. “Kate,” you whisper. 

You chant her name a few times and she giggles in response. You look at her beautiful eyes, and she stares back at you and the music keeps thumping but it feels like time stops around you. “Kate,” you try again. 

“Kate,” your other hand now joins in grabbing her collar and you pull her so close that you look up at her and she looks down at you with a groan. Her eyes light up with something. Desire? Is that what yours look like?

She says your name, catching your attention. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispers, hand firmly grabbing your jaw and rubbing your bottom lip. You raise yourself on your tippy toes, and she completes it by leaning down the slightest and meeting you in a burningly desperate kiss. It’s charged, emotional, angry, needy. It tastes like massive amounts of alcohol on both ends.  

The lights are dim, only casting a muted glow, highlighting the many bodies wandering around just enough where you can’t bump into them. The biggest source of light being the dance floor where a gaggle of people shift and dance against each other with half full drinks in hand. The music that Jarvis is producing thumps and bumps through the floor and walls, leaving a tingling in your feet all the way across the large room. Avengers mingle around, talking with semi important people and laughing amongst themselves. A young man with slicked back, jet black hair serves the people at the bar, most of them already drunk after Natasha Romanoff had been bartending earlier. 

You had only nursed one of her drinks at the time, struggling to pace yourself due to the delicious drink. It had been your first drink of the night and it had successfully loosened you up, softening your nerves at being invited to such an important place. The thought process being that if you didn’t talk to anyone and remained sober, you could get through the night relatively easily. Whereas the wildly drunk, more important people had chauffeurs to take them home, you would only let yourself take you anywhere. 

It had been about two hours since the part had begun, and though the dance floor was tempting, you shook your head in denial. You would not lose yourself tonight. Not when you were around such high up members of society. 

Distantly, a movement catches your eye. One of the newest Avengers, a twin, Wanda Maximoff. Sister of her late brother Pietro, and about 27 years old. Your age and yet, so much more powerful and so much bolder. She stands talking to Steve. She’s beautiful, you think. It feels like a single butterfly appears in your empty stomach and is fluttering around slowly. It feels weird.

Forcing yourself to look away from her beautiful figure, you decide to distract yourself. With a breath, you steel yourself and prepare to go mingle with the crowd finally, hopefully not embarrassing yourself in front of possible sponsors. You could really pick up a few if they were drunk. 

Like a shark, you set your eyes on a man you vaguely recognize, and put on a confident face. 

“Are you nervous?” A man’s voice peaks up from behind you, and you jump, whipping around to face him. Sam Wilson stands behind you with a smirk, hands raised in mock defense with a small, full glass in his right hand. “Didn’t mean to scare ya’ there,” he chuckles, lowering his hands. “What’s your name?”

You exhale, showing relief at him not being a creep. You tell him your name, shaking his hand while he introduces himself. “I’ve never been invited to one of these,” you tell the friendly man, “So yeah, I’m a bit nervous.” You smile and tuck your hair behind your ear as you talk. You tend to mess with it when you’re anxious. 

“I see,” he replies. “Well, you gonna stay by the wall and talk to plants all night? I think they’ll be alright without you, honestly. I’ll go with you if you like.”

With a bite of your lip in thought, you nod your head and take his arm, letting him lead you around the room. He takes you to a group of 3 men and a woman, introducing you and talking to them. It’s during the interaction that you tighten your hold around his strong arm and propose your ideas to the men with a brave front. 

After a few minutes, Sam politely excuses the two of you and leads you away from the group. “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?” 

You laugh a bit, agreeing with him. “It definitely helps to have someone with me.” 

With some idle chatter, you continue touring the room, eventually getting found by Steve Rodgers, Captain America. They greet each other kindly before the blonde turns to you. He shakes your hand and introduces himself. Before you know it, you’ve been talking to the two men for a solid 10 minutes before Sam offers to go sit on the couch and continue talking for a while longer. In a three way agreement, the three of you move over to the couch and talk. 

Strangers and Avengers come and go over the time, eventually Sam leaves for a bit to go mingle by himself, leaving you in the company of Steve and Rhodey. Hours pass by, you collectively drink more and more as times go on, and take it much slower when you feel a nice buzz coursing through your body. You now sit with Steve, Rhodey, and Sam, all of you laughing at a lame joke Rhodey had made about delivering something to the president that was so lame, you couldn’t help but laugh. Your little safety group starts to attract a few others as the part has died down to about half the previous amount. Maria Hill makes herself comfortable on a couch to the left of yours, Tony Stark eventually drifts over as well, charming you with his witty banter and sarcasm. 

After a while all of the other Avengers and a few other random people have joined in. You don’t mind it, though it is a whole collection you have with you at this point in the night and it slightly makes you nervous to be the one random person no one knows in a group of good, world saving, friends. It’s when Wanda joins as well, folding her legs on the couch, that you start to become really self conscious. You don’t miss her slightly lingering looks when you two talk amongst each other. You also don’t miss Natasha’s, though hers seems like she’s trying to figure something out and you’re not too sure what that means. 

Eventually, Maria decides to head home, Clint goes to bed, and Banner heads down to the lab. 

After another 30 minutes or so, you start to see the brunette girl eyeing you up from the corner of her eyes and you inwardly shiver, not wanting to show fear in front of her.  Over the next while, she continues to eye you curiously, darkly. Completely different from how she’s been looking at anyone else. It unnerves you, but you try not to directly talk to her or look at her. The thought of eye contact with her makes you feel a pit in your stomach. The rest of the group starts winding down bit by bit, the energy going down and yet, you can’t stop looking at her. And all of a sudden Black Widow pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’m sure Wanda and this poor girl are tired of being around a bunch of fossils. Why don’t you two go hang out?”

You look at the redhead, eyes wide and shocked before looking at Wanda whose look mirrors yours. She purses her lips, eyeing her teammate for a moment, before shifting her eyes to you. She goes a bit red to see you already looking at her, before mumbling to herself and standing up. She fidgets with her rings and looks at you nervously. You take the small hint and stand yourself, looking back at Sam before following. He waves with a smirk himself, and it only confuses you further. 

With a slow saunter, she walks out of the room, leading you through hallways quietly. She takes you to an elevator, entering it and standing beside you, pressing a button. You clear your throat, “So where are we going,” you ask awkwardly.

She takes a moment to respond, “My room,” she says quietly. You nod, looking back at the doors again as they open. She silently walks down the hallway lined with the occasional door and you follow just the same. She lands in front of a door, taking a breath before opening it. Her bed is cute.

She turns on some warm lights and sits cross legged on her bed, patting the spot next to her. “Do you like to watch TV?” She asks. You nod, and she asks another question. “What about sitcoms?” 

…

It had been weeks later, and you now arrived at the Avengers Tower every 2 or 3 days to hangout with the witch. Of course, you had gotten familiar with the other superheroes as time went on, greeting them in the kitchen while you grabbed two cups of water that Wanda insisted on getting with her magic. Helping her cook food, setting out plates for the others. Waving with a slight nod when you entered if you saw Steve, Sam, or Natasha on an evening run. 

A majority of the days you spent with Wanda were spent cooking, watching sitcoms, sitting in the living room and watching movies, or just spending the hours chatting. You had gotten very close to the girl in your time together, and deep down, you knew how much you had both needed this. Before all of this, you barely left your company building and she was new to a team that was still hostile towards her. 

You knock on her bedroom door, fidgeting with your hands as you take a deep breath. Each time you were with her, one more butterfly was added in your stomach and today you had let them convince you to bring her flowers. 

“Come in,” she responds with her heavy Sokovian accent and you grip the doorknob. 

Swinging the door open, your eyes catch on the new LED lights casting a red glow through the room. Wanda exits her bathroom, hair damp and collarbones glistening. The brunette girl sports a loose black long sleeve with dark grey sleeves. It’s cut around the neck, a job you had done for her last week, so it barely hangs onto her left shoulder, revealing her gorgeous neck, shoulder, and collarbones. Aside from the shirt, she wears some small black shorts that reveal too much of her beautifully long legs for you to calm down. The butterflies in your stomach fire up like a slowly dying fire that had just been cleaned out and supplied with the richest of wood for it to burn through. You gulp and fight the creeping blush. 

“Hi Wanda,” you say all to quietly, revealing your slightly shaking voice. She smiles eagerly at the sight of you, something that makes you swoon instantly. What a beautiful girl. 

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you. Traffic?” She replies and you nod with a sheepish smile. A glance down reminds you of the flowers you desperately grip onto and your head shoots up again. “Yeah, but to make it up to you, I got these flowers for you.”

Your voice is soft, apprehensive but loving at the same time. She looks down and you notice that something in her eyes soften as they linger on the flowers. When she looks at you again, her eyes reveal something all too sinful. Blooming. 

Her feet pad over to you, getting so close you can feel her breath tickling your face. She looks down again, fingers coming up to feel and play with the flower petals. Her head tilts and she looks at you again, eyes flickering to your lips momentarily. “Thank you,” she whispers with a teasing smile before gently taking them from your shaking hands and walking away. You stand there with your mouth agape and face beet red. When she places them down and turns around again, you collect yourself and take her motion to sit on the bed.

With a gulp, you settle onto her bed next to her as you scan the movies she scrolls over. “I’ve heard this is a good one,” she says as she hovers over a familiar movie. 50 Shades Of Gray.

You stutter and splutter, not sure what to say. She smiles mischievously and clicks on it, playing the movie. She shuffles impossibly closer to you, while you lay on your back slightly propped up by pillows, she lays on her side facing you. Her breasts push against your arm and her hand slithers over your stomach, two fingers slipping under your shirt to feel your warm skin. This is normal, you think. 

While you watch the characters on screen having sex, your body warms up and liquid electricity pools in your nether region. You blush, hard to see in the red lighting, and ignore Wanda’s eyes flickering from the screen to you. Her fingers twitch, her hand having pushed your shirt up enough for all five fingers to rest on your stomach. A few more minutes drag by, her fingers teasingly drawing patterns on your stomach, occasionally dipping lower, before your breath hitches and you shut your eyes to collect yourself. 

It’s during this, that she deems it an opening, and time to make her move. 

Her hand drags up your shirt, bracing itself on the left side of your ribcage before you feel her body pushing the blankets away and moving up. You open your eyes to find her slithering up, slowly sliding onto your hips to straddle you and her other hand mirrors the one on your ribcage. Just below your chest. 

“W-Wanda?” You say, confused, dazed, and shocked. She shushes you, now fully straddling you and locking you in place. Your eyes scan over the woman. Her long legs are now almost fully revealed by her tiny shorts and you blush when you realize that it doesn’t look like she has underwear on. You try to ignore the pulse in your pants that Wanda is not supposed to know about. “Wanda, what are you doing?”

She shuffles her hips a little bit, leaning forward with a smile on her lips and lust in her eyes. “You talk too much,” she whispers, “I’m tired of waiting for you,” she pauses. “Besides, who else can shut your thoughts up aside from me? So many, swirling in your head. All about me. ”

You gulp, making intense eye contact with her as her eyes flash red and a hand creeps up to your face. She leans so close you can feel her breath on your lips again, “I know, but do you know what you want?” 

“I know what I want,” you say though you feel as if you’re only trying to convince yourself instead of the woman in front of you. “Do you want me?” She says with conviction. “Tell me that you want me, and I’ll give you me.”

“I want you Wanda.”

She leans in the rest of the way, kissing you hard and messily. Her soft and full lips press against yours and your hands find home on her hips where hers remain on your face. Groans of pleasure rumble within both of your throats, continuing to makeout. Before long, your tongue finds its way into the girl's mouth and she whimpers with need. Your tongues swirl and explore, tasting each other eagerly. Her teeth clamp around your bottom lip, pulling as she pulls away. With a pop, she releases it and you’re left open mouth panting for air. She breathes heavy, eyes blown with lust and need. 

Neither of you know what to do next. You stare at each other, needy and panting, with so many questions to be answered. You sit up, kissing her again passionately, hands running up and down her soft, milky thighs and pull away from her lips to instead trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her slender arms link behind your neck, hands running through your hair and grabbing onto the shirt on your back. Her hips shift and start to grind on yours. Your eyes widen, and you feel your cock get semi hard. Wanda’s mouth lets out a strew of moans and whimpers as she rucks back and forth on your hips, occasionally rubbing against your member perfectly. You breathe out, furrowing your brows and trying to not get hard. The more you think about it, the more turned on you feel, so you bite her pulse point, sucking lightly to distract yourself. 

“Oh!” She gasps, hand tightening in your hair, keeping you there with a whine. She pants as you suck, now with the intent to mark her much too bare neck. You were going to show everyone that this woman was yours now, and yours alone. Not Vision’s, who you knew had been visiting her a little too frequently and was too eager to get close to her. 

With the first hickey finished, you move down, continuing to bite and kiss her neck and quickly starting another one. Her hand on your back slips into your neckline, nails finding your bare skin and scratching lightly, causing you to groan into her neck and suck a little harder. The pleasure shoots straight through your nerves, down to your center. 

Your hands slip up her body, slipping under her own shirt and exploring her stomach, waist, and back. 

She pulls you away from your neck by your hair, and bites her lip at the look on your face. Your eyes look up at her through your lashes, half lidded and blown with lust. Your kiss swollen lips are parted to help you breathe, and she loves that she can see the sparkle of her spit on your lips. 

With a groan, she sighs and speaks softly again with her intoxicating accent. “Take me.”

Like those words had activated some sort of sleeper agent inside of you, you flip her onto her back on the bed and mumble a reply before diving back into her plush lips. While you kiss the girl, you shift your hips between her legs, settling in and pushing your hips into hers, avoiding contact with your crotch. She moans into your mouth obscenely, fingers playing with the bottom of your shirt. In between kisses, you lift her shirt up slightly, “Is this okay,” you ask before kissing her again. She hums her approval before you lift her shirt up and are forced to separate once more.

Wanda sports nothing underneath the flimsy shirt that you’ve just torn off and you blush at the reveal of her breasts. Her lightly toned stomach flutters up and down as she squirms under your gaze. Her chest is full but perky, pink nipples hardened like diamonds due to the exposure of the cold air. You look up at her face to see her nervously eyeing your reaction, and you soften your gaze. “You’re beautiful, Wanda.” 

She exhales in relief, and you lower your head to kiss her stomach up to her chest. You kiss around her breasts, skipping over her nipples with practiced ease and she whines every time, just like you had hoped. When you finally decide to give her some mercy, you soften her up with kisses before melting her like butter when you finally put your open mouth on her. 

Your lips encase her perked nipple, licking and sucking while your hand lightly toys with her other one. Wanda’s hands fly up to her mouth to muffle her sounds and cover her face in embarrassment. “Oh, oh my God,” She stutters, “ Fuck, I didn’t think that’d feel so good. ”

You chuckle lightly at her apparent realization and continue with your mouth, now trailing kisses to her other breast and swapping with your hand. Before you encase her neglected breast in your mouth, you suckle another hickey onto her chest, her back arching in pleasure. 

At some point, Wanda must realize that you’ve been taking too much time and she slips her hands off of her face, grabbing your hand that was toying with her breast and dragging it down to her shorts. “Are you sure,” You ask, nervous to accidentally push her too far. You figured this was her first time due to so many years spent in Hydra. 

She nods, and you crawl down with a plan in mind. You kiss down her stomach, promising to worship her breasts another time, and grab onto the band of her shorts with your teeth. You pull them down as far as you comfortably can, before taking them off the rest of the way with your hands. You look from her dainty ankles, to her soft calves, to plush and unblemished thighs, to the little patch of well taken care of hair, on her center. You make it a point to kiss all the way up both legs, appreciating her body, but not spending too much time on worshiping. No, you’d definitely do that another time. You could spend hours worshiping her body and you still wouldn’t be done. 

When you get close to her glistening folds, you plant a kiss there before pulling away from her entirely. “ Wait!” She panicked, “Where are you going?” 

You chuckle, standing at the edge of the bed and looking down at her. “Relax, I’m just giving you a show,” you reassure and she settles back down, legs closed and arms crossed over her chest. You would get on her about that another time. 

You grab the end of her shirt, slowly pulling it off of your mildly muscular form. Wanda’s breath audibly hitches and she hungrily eyes up your body. Right after your shirt, follows your bra and Some thinking is spent on if you will take your pants off, but you decide against it. Unless she wanted to continue and please you, you were going to spend the night giving her pleasure over and over. With a blush, you look down, feeling your neglected member pulse with need, with a slight bulge through your thick and loose pants. You purposefully wore pants like that around Wanda because of your growing feelings. 

Also the fact that the world was entirely unaware of your condition. 

You know she felt it earlier when she sat on your hips, especially when she started moving around, but neither of you had acknowledged it any maybe it wasn’t the time to. You weren’t sure how Wanda had felt about it. 

“Do I need to quiet your thoughts again?”

Wanda’s voice pulls you out of your distraction, and you look up at the woman again. She kneels in front of you on the end of the bed, one hand running over the muscles on your stomach and the other settled on your jaw. Her eyes are red and her red magic swirls from her fingertips on your jaw, running over your face to your temples. You shake your head, and she smiles cheekily. A finger traces down your abs, nail drawing a reddening line down to the waistband of your pants. It trails down over your pants to the bulge. “Trust me, we’ll get to this tonight.”

With a wink, she flicks her hands and you’re back in the previous position with your hand situated high up on her thigh. “Right now though, I have been waiting far too long for you to fuck me, so that’s what you’re going to do.” 

Your mouth hangs open at her sudden commands and confidence that she had lacked before. You make a mental note to ask about if she was a switch or if she leaned more towards being a dominant. 

With a sigh and a smile, you go back down and kiss her folds. With a swift lick through, you taste her arousal and moan at the sweetness. Like a starved dog, you eat her out, no longer being patient enough to take your time. Your tongue swipes over her clit, circling around it, before you lean in and suckle into it. Wanda jolts, nearly screaming in response as a hand flies down to your hair and grabs harshly onto a section of your hair. “Fuck, just like that darling,” She repeats breathily as you keep sucking and licking. You do your best to keep your eyes trained on her face and the sight that greets you is delectable. Wanda’s face is scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape as she moans and her hand occasionally comes up to bite on her finger. Her brown hair is not fully messed up yet, just a few strands out of place. Her breathy words and moans mix together in a chant-like symphony, providing music to your ears. 

Officially having deemed her wet enough, you finally move your hand and slowly insert a finger into her. “Fuck!” She gasps again, biting her lips and moaning wantonly. You pump your finger in and out, adding a second one easily. “Oh,” she chants, rising in pitch as she gets closer and closer to the edge. You move your tongue on her clit in a passionate rhythm with your fingers. “Just like that, just like that, oh, oh, I’m gonna-!” Wanda announces her climax, and finally reaches the edge when you pull away for the briefest second, “Come on Wanda, cum for me honey.” 

When Wanda fully hits her climax, you curl your fingers and lightly suck her clit to accentuate the pleasure and draw it out. Her walls spasm around your fingers, and you feel her gushing the viscous juice.

A minute or two later, everything has slowed as she’s fully ridden it out and is whining and pushing your head away while you kitten lick her fluids. The woman breathes heavily, face still scrunched up and eyes drooping heavily. “Too much babe, too sensitive,” she says, and you nod, pulling away but keeping your fingers still inside of her. “Wanda, honey, are you ready for me to pull out now?”

She nods, and you slowly pull your two fingers out. You marvel at them momentarily, coated in her cum and arousal. With a smile, you look at her and stick your fingers in your mouth to clean them off. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. You smirk as you release your fingers with a suckle and resist laughing at her shocked face. With a huff of laughter, you crawl back onto the bed and kiss her pink, swollen lips. “Would you like to keep going, or should I get started with aftercare honey?”

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to drown? There’s a type of peace in the water. It calls to you, sings to you, and convinces you to stay there. It guides you and pulls you gently, telling you to never leave. All that welcomes you on the surface is war. And blood.

At first the water is cold, biting, harsh against your skin. It burns your lungs and greets you furiously with frostbite. Voices scream in your ears, the bone chilling, blood curdling kind. You thrash, trying to escape, go anywhere but there, but your body doesn’t move. You scream, trying to get out, to do anything you can in order to escape. Your tears and spit mixing with the water. Before you open up to it. Then, it opens up to you, and welcomes you.

The cold leaves you, as water rushes into your lungs. It fills your nose, mouth and ears. Your eyes blur before closing shut, letting the darkness consume you. You feel blood leaking out of your wounds, infecting the water you're breathing in. You stop thrashing and screaming, opting to just stay still and accept fate. It strangles you like an addiction.

Grief is a lot like drowning. Sometimes you drown, sometimes you can get out on your own and other times someone pulls you out. Whether you're ready or not. Whether you want them to or not.

That’s what you’re doing. You’re drowning. This time, there’s no one to pull you out though, as the one person who could and did before, is the reason you’re drowning. They- she didn’t do anything wrong, in fact, quite the opposite. She saved the world and you’re so proud of her but there’s that part of you that wishes she simply hadn’t saved the world. That she stayed behind for this one mission, this one time, for you. She didn’t know she would die of course, no one did, but it didn't stop you from feeling like maybe it was someone’s fault. You could never blame Clint though. You knew he tried his hardest to ensure she came back to you. You both knew how she was though. What Natasha wants; Natasha Romanoff gets.

You chuckle a bit at that thought. She always was the stubborn one.

With a sigh, you conclude that you should get up. Standing from your puddle of water, with your blood and tears mixed in it, all that welcomes you on the surface is blood and war. Thanos had come and destroyed your home. The home that you and Natasha had together with the rest of the Avengers. Everything you had left of Natasha was gone. Except for the locket she gave you on your first date. Opening it up, you smile slightly at the picture of you and her. You wish you could go back in time and love her again.

You look up after closing your locket, preparing to go back into battle with the rest of your team. You knew you were going to die here, you hoped you would honestly, but you also knew Natasha would be upset at you for not trying to help beforehand.

You fight and fight even past your body’s limit. Your bones ache, creak, and scream at you to stop- but you keep moving. You keep fighting. All for her. You vaguely see your teammates fighting in the distance as you meekly attempt to limp your way closer to them. Perhaps they could assist you. You breath shudders as you grunt in your efforts. On instinct alone, you kill the alien as quickly as you can and continue on your path. Your hands grasp at the many wounds covering your beaten body in weak attempts to slow the profusely gushing blood. If only you had been a God like Thor or a super soldier like Steve. Perhaps things would’ve gone differently. Perhaps she would still be here with you. The thought of her spurs you on to kill 3 more aliens and you are now maybe 30 feet away from one of your friends. You can’t distinguish who with your fading eyesight- but you wander over to them anyways.

You were always kind of clumsy and dumb, making small stupid mistakes the most out of everyone else. Just silly little things that you say oops to. So when an alien spear pierced your stomach from behind after you had just killed the enemy in front of you, it came to no surprise. The spear pulls out as you fall face first into a puddle of water or was it blood? The wound in your stomach gushes blood profusely, pain envelopes you. After the alien walks away to fight your team, you shift around in massive pain, to at least look up into the sky as you die. You close your eyes with a shaky sigh, as blood begins to fill your lungs. You pity whoever finds your body, but at least you get to be with your soon to be wife again.

A warmness consumes you, soft hands cup your face gently. Opening your eyes, you almost cry at the sight of Natasha’s warm smile. Your watery eyes find hers, surging up, you kiss her with passion. Between the kisses, against your lips, she whispers.

The next day, you and Kate explore the area outside the campus. The most exciting thing you find out is that the nearest coffee shop is a 10 minute walk down the street from your college. After you and Kate round the corner, your eyes land on the quaint little building tucked into its slot. 

Kate has her left arm around your shoulder, keeping you with her as she explains a story about her and some girls she was friends with in highschool. Her right arm waves around animatedly as she goes into depth about it, letting you lead her to the coffee shop. A soft bell chimes when you enter and Kate quiets down. A smile quickly spreads across your face when you inhale deeply and almost moan at the delicious smell of freshly made coffee. It smelled better than any usual coffee place you’d been to or tried and you decided right then and there that if you needed a place to work; it would be right here. 

A man and his daughter stand in line in front of you, ordering their drinks and grilled cheeses. It was a rectangular shaped area, with one half of the interior being a coffee shop. The floor is a gorgeous, dark, brown wood with a pretty rug over it. The walls match the wood and counter. Fake plant vines hang from the walls, and a TV is perched on the wall to your right. You notice a door under the TV that has a pretty, light up sign labeled ‘Bakery’ beside it. Storing that for later, you look to the other side of the shop. The dark wooden floor continues through the whole building, but the walls change. The left half of the shop is lined with tables and chairs, but has bookshelves with many books and magazines for patrons to read. The back wall of the left half is made of bricks adorned with many posters and plants and decorations. The other walls on that half are adorned with a soft red wallpaper and many white trimmed windows. 

Each window has a curtain you can pull down, and you now note that no overhead lights are on as the sun is providing enough light to brighten up the joint you now stand in. You hum, only falling even more in love with the seemingly hole-in-the-wall shop. A movement on the floor by you catches your attention. 

You see a fluffy orange cat prancing around the shop, suddenly being reminded of the cat sign posted on the door. Little white paws and toes match the fur on his chin and chest while he meanders around. You crouch down, calling him over quietly and petting him gingerly when he finally pads over to you, brushing against your knees with a purr. His little head finds its way in your hands and you spot the golden name tag hanging from his little blue collar. Searching for the name, only results in a snort finding its way out of your body. Kate suddenly turns around and gasps. 

Immediately, she also crouches down and goes to pet him. “Aww, what’s your name kitty?” She coos softly.

“Sunkist,” you say, earning a confused brow raise from her. “Like the soda??” She questions. 

You nod with a smile, “Exactly like the soda.” 

She hums and continues petting him. “What a weird little name, though who am I to judge? What a handsome little guy.” 

Kate continues to dote on him while you stand up. Finally, the father and daughter collect the grilled cheeses and head to one of the tables to wait for their drinks. Tapping Kate’s shoulder, you move up to the counter to make your order. While Kate orders her drink, you look at the shop once more. It’s a nice space with music playing quietly in the background. You could tell it would be nice to study here late at night with the lights dimmed. The people there only add to the easy going atmosphere. You suddenly notice that Sunkist has left his previous spot and must have wandered somewhere else in the small building. Briefly, your eyes scan over the sop for his little orange coat and find him brushing against someone’s legs with his back arched up into the air. 

Manicured hands gently scratch his back and glide through his fur with ease. Your eyes trail up the connected arm, past the shoulders, and make their way to the face of the person. Red and wavy hair cascades past a beautifully sculpted jawline with painted lips to adorn it. Your eyes scan over the jaw droppingly beautiful nose, and you find yourself now locking in contact with the richest, most beautiful, green eyes you have ever seen. 

After what feels like an eternity, Kate taps your shoulder and effectively knocks you out of your staring contest with the green abyss of that woman’s eyes. “You good? Let’s go sit down,” she suggests. She turns to find a table and like a baby duck, you follow right behind her, trying not to find that woman’s eyes again. “So, it seems like this shop is connected to a pastry/bakery place next door,” she says as she mischievously wiggles her eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes and smile at her, attempting to shake off the feeling of being watched. “Would you like to get some pastries, Kate Bishop?” You say with a sarcastic tone of voice. She tilts her head and shrugs her shoulders stating that maybe she does. 

You look out at the window a few feet away to your right. Kate checks her phone and begins to rant about how excited she is to start classes and if she’ll meet any cool, new, friends or make any new crushes. The barista calls out her name and she stops while you go to grab the coffees, quietly thanking the woman with a smile. Sitting back down at the table, and handing Kate her drink. “You didn’t have to pay, you know,” you mumble shyly. The girl rolls her eyes and says she doesn’t mind it and the coffee here is cheaper than other places like Starbucks. 

You know not to continue that conversation any further, already knowing the conclusion. Kate has always loved to pay for everything, due to her rich upbringing. You, however, did not like when people paid for your stuff, and tried to never let Kate pay for your things. It’s a conversation you’ve both held many times over the years and it never ends up going anywhere aside from back to the beginning of it. 

Both of you remain sitting there for a while, holding simple conversation, checking your phones, and occasionally entertaining Sunkist’s needy meows whenever he would come over to your area. Once you get about halfway done with your drink, Kate decides it’s time to head back, so you both stand up and push in your chairs quietly. With a nod towards the barista, you both head to the door. For a split second, your eyes catch those green devils again and you get bathed in rich, red locks and shining eyes. 

Kate pushes the door open and leads you outside before you can continue looking at the woman. A part of you instantly feels detached from you once you step outside, feeling like the woman had taken that part of you. Whatever that part even is.  

10 minutes later, you’ve made it back to the campus and are heading to your dormitory. As you walk, your vision is glued onto your phone and all of a sudden, you crash into a sturdy body. 

You immediately look up and breathe in to begin apologizing when you’re met with intensely green eyes. For a second, your mind flashes back to the woman at the coffee shop, but when you spot blonde hair tucked into a bun, you come back to the world around you. The girl's lips stay tight as she eyes you firmly. Kate’s voice grabs you and the blonde’s attention as she apologizes profusely for your clumsiness. The blonde, standing at the same height as you, grumbles. 

Kate wraps her arm around your shoulder and smiles nervously. “Seriously, I am so sorry about my friend, she is kind of dumb and zones out a lot. I’m sure she just wasn’t paying attention!” You eye Kate as she throws you under the bus in fear. The blonde girl goes to say something before getting a notification on her phone. She sighs when she checks it and waves you two off, mumbling something about an annoying sister. When she’s finally far enough away from you and Kate, you sigh and look at her, continuing to walk. “Seriously?” 

She looks at you sheepishly. “I’m sorry, you were totally out of this world and I didn’t know what else to say. She was really scary looking, you know? Yikes. She was really pretty though,” Kate states, mumbling that last bit. You heard it, but chose not to acknowledge it, though if you crossed paths with the blonde again, you’d bring it up to Kate later. 

Those eyes, you think. Completely different, yet both held the same amount of passion and intensity. Shivers crawled down your spine at a rapid pace, and you could tell it wasn’t because of the wind. 

“Hey, what’s going on dude?” Kate asks, crossing to the elevator with you. “You’ve been totally out since the coffee shop.” 

You look up at her with a sigh. “What do you mean?” 

She raises an eyebrow at you as you walk into the waiting elevator. “I’ve known you since what- Freshman year of Highschool, and you think I can’t tell when you’re zoned the hell out?”  

You look down. “I’m sorry Kate. I don’t know, I just keep zoning out. I don’t even know what I’m really thinking about,” you lie. You know exactly what you’re thinking about, you just don’t want to admit it. Why were you so caught up in that random woman's eyes? It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

Kate just sighs softly and approaches your dorm door, unlocking it and taking a sip of her iced Americano. You close the door behind yourself. 

Natasha Romanov. Your own girlfriend was having to fight you. She had chosen her side. You had chosen yours, both of you knowing what would happen. But that doesn't mean it hurts less. Seeing her standing on the other side of the lot, standing next to Tony and them while you stood by Steve's. 

  You weren't the biggest fan of Steve, but you supported his cause this one time. You finally agreed with him. You weren't going to sign those Accords. You weren't. You'd rather fight your girlfriend than sign the Accords. So fight her you will. And fight her you did. What a cruel world isn't it. 

  Steve was getting away in a plane. Black Panther and Natasha chasing him. You ran after them, having won your own fight. You didn't want to fight her but if it came to that… you would. 

  The rubble fell, Black Panther just barely making it through. You also had been lucky. You get up just as T'challa does, him trying to go after the plane, causing him not to notice you. But Natasha noticed you. She always did and always had. 

  She whips around, the plane beginning to fly off with Bucky and Steve in it, and shoots T'challa with her widow bites. Shooting and stunning him multiple times until he drops, she turns to you. 

  You stand still, panting, covered in dust and blood dripping from a wound on your forehead. "They'll go looking for you, you know. You're a traitor now." You say. 

  "So are you. Besides, I've lived this life before. On the run, being multiple people with many names. I'm used to it. What will you do?" She states solemnly.

  You pause. What will you do? Nodding as you come up with your answer, you look at her once more. "I'll go wherever you go. I'm your weapon, your sword, your shield, your everything, I'll protect you and fight for you. I'll run with you if that's the plan. All I ask is, will you be the same to me? My sword, my shield? My weapon, my protector? My everything? Would you run with me if that was the plan? Would you promise not to abandon me or leave me because you worry for my safety and follow through with it, Natasha?" You hadn't meant to get all deep but you and Natasha were both still kind of new to the dating thing. You needed to know. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her, but was it the same for her? 

  "I promise." Her lip trembles slightly, she didn't even try to hide it, knowing you would've seen it either way. You always seemed to know everything about her. It scared her and made her happy at the same time. She needed you to know. To know that she loved you. She would run with you if that was the plan. She will run with you because that is the plan. She will be your sword and shield. Your protector and your everything. Because that's what you already were to her. She wanted to return the favor, full heartedly. And she would. She vowed to herself and anyone who would listen that she would. 

  She would run with you, not away from you. You two would run away from them but not from each other. And you did. 

  Everyone had fought it out. Bucky and Steve got away. Tony and Wanda fought, Ant Man had been taken out by Spider Man, Bucky, Sam and Spiderman fought, Hawkeye and Natasha fought, and once Natasha had betrayed her team, Black Panther and her fought. He had yet to wake up though you knew he wasn't dead or dying. Rhodey was in critical condition. You didn't see what happened but had heard about it. You knew Tony and Ross and anyone else that sided with the Accords would come and collect you guys. They'd put Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda in cells. They'd treat them all so poorly, Wanda the worst. You both knew T'challa would wake up soon though. You both knew you had to leave soon. And you both knew, just like the rest of your team knew, that they weren't going to stay in those cells for very long. You all knew you, Natasha, Bucky and Steve would break them out and you'd all be on the run together. 

  Which is why as soon as you heard a bunch of footsteps and talking coming your way you both nodded and disappeared into the dust that would soon settle. Disappearing into the darkness that enveloped the hangar. Disappearing into the silence that would soon anger Ross.

  Disappearing until the world would inevitably need you again. Until the people called for you. However long that may be. 

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With a soft and dull thump, the cardboard box lands on the floor beneath your feet. You let go of a big sigh, climbing up the ladder and collapsing on your new bed. The mattress creaks a little bit at your sudden weight whilst you stare at the ceiling of your new dorm room. It was a bunk bed with a desk stored underneath. A groan catches your attention as your roommate- and long time best friend- Kate Bishop stretches her back in pain. “Man, who knew hauling boxes up so many stairs would hurt your back so much. Whatever happened to using a suitcase, huh?” She jabs playfully at you after her stretch. You now sit up, rolling your eyes at her dramatic tone. “I told you, I don’t have one, and too many other kids were using the elevators Kate.” 

She plops on her own bed with yet another dramatic groan, despite her toothy smile. “Yeah, my super huge muscles must’ve looked super cool while doing that.” 

You sigh and look at her fondly before you both burst into light laughter. After a short break, you both get into unpacking your things and figure out which posters go where and who’s knicknacks take up which spaces. Soon enough, within a few hours, your new college dorm is looking pretty spiffy. Kate’s signed poster of the famous archer Clint Barton hangs above her bed while her folding bow and arrows are stored safely into a thin under her bed. Her bed linens consist of a purple pillow case that matches her purple bow and arrow comforter. The sheet is a simple black to match the bed frame in a very Kate-esque fashion. 

On your side of the dorm, your wall sports some old polaroid photos of you and Kate, and one or two photos of your family with you. Some decorative fake plants hang from the wall or curtain bar. In the corner of the room is a warm toned standing lamp, whilst on your desk is a sunset lamp. A matching water ripple lamp is on Kate’s desk. One thing you two had decided on before going to college, was to not use the overhead light unless absolutely necessary and so you both went out together and bought some calming lights. On the ceiling were some glow in the dark stars and planets to keep you both company. For nights that either one of you couldn’t sleep for whatever reason. You both had agreed on your dorm being a safe space for both of you, and any other friends if needed. 

Having started the moving process at 9AM, it was now around 1PM and all of your boxes had been unpacked. Many other students were moving in today, so you knew that despite there being a designated ‘Club Rush’ day, clubs would already start posting up tables and flyers. After another small, silent phone break, you and Kate had decided to go walk around. You both had gone to the campus tour day a few weeks ago, but neither of you weren’t paying too much attention over your excitement about actually being in college together. 

As you walk past many bustling students carrying boxes and suitcases, you finally escape your dorm building and begin to walk around campus with Kate. You follow the path leading you to the middle of the campus and use the signs to decide where to go from there. Eventually, you both stumble upon a garden and pond set, instead of the student food section. There’s a small stone bridge crossing over the middle of the pond filled with clear water and koi fish. You and Kate gasp in joy, immediately talking about feeding the fish together sometime, in spite of the ‘no feeding fish’ sign. 

After some time, you see the frat and sorority houses, education buildings, and finally end up at the food area. The ladies are very nice, saying how you are some of the first few that morning and give you some snacks to feast on. They very excitedly point you to where some of the clubs are gathering a bit further away and tell you to have a nice day. “Thank you!” You shout as you both leave that building. 

You marvel at it all, “What an amazing campus,” you say, not used to it since your highschool wasn’t inherently the best looking. Kate nods while making a small noise of agreement through her eating. As you both wander up to the club area, many kids set their eyes on you like sharks hunting for prey. Some just watch while others call out. Kate immediately hones in on the archery club, excitedly talking to them and signing out the forums and sheets. 

You watch with a huff of laughter, admiring her dedication to it. She sports a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into some blue jeans donned with classic Converse. If you didn’t know her, you’d assume she was a hardcore Lesbian. You call it her ‘U-haul Lesbian’ fit. 

She did not like the name..

After finishing up, Kate whips back around to you and continues walking through. You take some interest in the Acting and Theatre club and spend some time talking to them, mentally storing it for later. Kate jokes about joining football and sends a jab your way by saying you should join the chess club due to how boring you are. You merely scoff at her. 

Kate was your highschool friend. In fact, one of the few friends you’d had during the entirety of it all. You had met by being seated next to each other in Biology and though she kept trying to talk to you, you had given her dry and rough responses. A few weeks later, she had been absent for 3 days due to the flu and it had made you realize how much you didn’t mind her presence. Her return and your concern had pretty much solidified your forever friendship since then. Throughout the years, your friendship had survived 2 friend group breakups and average school drama. Kate had even gotten into a fight for you once. 

Her mother adored you as well. Eleanor Bishop had quickly become something akin to a mother to you. Spending more time at their house than anywhere else- even your own home- had quickly become the new normal. Eleanor had taught you how to cook and wrap presents. She bought specific foods you liked, cleared out a bedroom for you, always made extra food for you, taught you how to cook and even bought you clothes and holiday presents. Very quickly, you had become her second child. During all of this, yours and Kate’s relationship had flourished and bloomed into a romantic one instead. 

The breakup had been nasty, leaving you without contact for a long time. 

Now you watch as she sucks on a popsicle while looking at the club tables, and you were just glad to have her back again. You had missed your best friend so dearly. 

About 30 more minutes of walking ensued before the return to your dorm became imminent in Kate’s complaints. It wasn’t very long before you were unlocking the door with your key and shutting it behind Kate. Sluggishly, she makes her way into her matching bunk bed and stretches. “Good day, huh?” She starts as she takes off her shoes. 

You nod in agreement, taking off your own shoes. She tosses her shoes down to you, and you place both pairs by the wall while she talks. “The Archery Club people were real nice, you know? See anything you were interested in? How about that chess club, hm?” 

Turning to her, you send her a faux glare and she knows it. Opening the wardrobe, you pull out some sweatpants for her and yourself. “I don’t know honestly. Acting seemed okay maybe. Chess is not my thing if how many times your mother beat me at it says anything.” 

She laughs as she takes off her jeans and catches the sweatpants, sliding them on in her bed. You change into your baggy shirt and sweats before sliding into your own bed. 

“I could see you doing acting. You’ve definitely got the artist's brain and diva attitude to suit it,” Kate laughs. Secretly, you know she’s not wrong but that doesn’t stop your angry mumbling sent her way. 

“I mean, seriously though. When you’re really in the zone, you definitely get the confidence and focus for it. You’ve been drawing and creating for as long as I’ve known you, and you think like an artist but you’re still Earthly enough to not have unrealistic expectations. I think you’d be a pretty good fit, honestly.” You smile at her while she sheepishly talks about you. “Yeah, I know,” you say. “I think I’ll take a few more looks at it first though. I don’t want to jump into it without checking it out. Creative Lit Club also seemed kind of nice though!” 

And just like that, your college life was finally starting to begin, filling you with a slight sense of hope for your life and your future. With smiles, you and Kate continue talking until the night settles in, and you thus spend your first night at college with many more to come.