imaginedreamwrite
imaginedreamwrite
Imagine, Dream, Write
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 hours ago
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Everything Has Changed: Part 13
Days spent in the state of the art lab preparing for the first attempts at the experimental synthesis of medication and DNA modifications that would ignite those receptors that drew omega’s to alpha’s and vice versa. It was the first day of the experiment and the entire lab was buzzing with excitement and hopefulness that this would further limit the repercussions of the Snap and Blip.
With the volunteers already checked into the lab, you were in the midst of preparing for your part in the experiment, when the approach of Dr. Banner had stopped you in your tracks.
On his approach, your stomach tightened as you recognized the face of bad news. You didn’t know what he was going to tell you or what would become of the rest of your day, but you knew that something was going to change.
You could feel it in your bones, you could see it clearly in his eyes and the way he carried himself that there was something unspoken that was bothering him.
You moved away from the core of the lab toward the far left side that was much quieter and would allow for a hushed conversation. When you came to stand in front of him, you shoved your hands into your lab coat pockets, fiddling with the pen to keep your nerves at a low.
“Dr. Banner, what’s the bad news?” You asked even if you didn’t want to. If you could’ve remained ignorant, you would have. However whether you wanted to know or not, Dr. Banner would tell you.
“Y/N,” he crossed his arms over his chest, hesitating to speak, “I know that you’ve spent countless hours preparing for the launch of this procedure-“
“-but…?” You felt the preemptive sting of tears.
“You can’t be a part of the experiment itself. The conditions to be part of the actual testing of the procedure are very clear-“
“What did I do wrong?” Tears blurred your vision, the airy gasps that left your mouth were the tip of the emotional iceberg.
“Nothing, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. You’re brilliant and talented, however the conditions do not allow pregnant women to partake in the procedure.”
“Pregnant?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m not pregnant…”
“I had to do a final test on the blood we’d taken and on every sample you’d given us to confirm your readiness. When I test your sampled and your blood, I got the confirmations.”
To prove the point he was trying to make, Dr. Banner handed you the tablet in his hands with all the data already loaded snd ready for you to see. On the tablet screen was the clear image of your hormone levels that has shifted as well as the sharp spike in estrogen and progesterone that proved not only were you pregnant, but the levels in which they’d increased had opened the possibility up to their being more than one baby.
“There’s no symptoms.”
“You know as well as I do the symptoms of pregnancy’s may not show up within the first month. Based on the hormone levels, I’d say you’re just under a month.” Dr. Banner placed his hand on your shoulder snd squeezed.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. But in my good conscience I can’t allow you to be one of the constant’s in the experiment. You can still run the trial and head it up if you would wish, however being part of it is no longer an option.”
“Pregnant.” You stared at the tablet while mentally being a mile away.
Kids. You’d always wanted kids, but later on in your life. You were only 22 and you’d just started your career.
You heard Dr. Banner speak yet you couldn’t take your attention off the numbers on the screen. You couldn’t take your eyes off the hormone spikes and the clear data that damned you from your own trial.
“You should tell Steve and Bucky-“
“Excuse me.” You handed the tablet back to him, more like shoved it into his arms, and pushed past him.
“Y/N, talk to Steve and Bucky. Tell them before you-“
“I need air. I need-“ you slipped your lab coat off and tossed it toward a desk chair. Before it could even land on the chair, you were headed toward the door of the lab. You placed your hand against the biometric lock and wait the half second as it scanned your DNA before it let you out. You slipped through the door and moved in a haze, completing everything action that would take you from the lab, to the elevator and then to the lobby of Stark Tower. You moved by autonomy, while your head was reeling and you were consumed by a constant barrage of questions aimed at yourself and your situation.
“Y/N!” Your name was called but you kept moving. “Y/N, stop!”
You kept moving until you collided with a body made of muscle snd strength. After colliding with the body, you craned your neck and studied the man hovering over you, relief and insignificant anguish at the pair of blue eyes watching you.
His brown hair, thick and luscious, was cut short. It was a new look for him after having his longer hair for a while. He was clean shaven too, it looked as fresh as his haircut. His blue eyes were caught between concern and caution, his hands reaching out to grab your arms.
He was your alpha, you should find comfort in his touch and yet…
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was holding your arms in gentle grasps. “You didn’t hear me calling your name. What’s wrong?”
Pregnant. You were pregnant.
“I need air. I need to get out of here. I need…” Your eyes dart around the lobby of Stark tower, your stomach churning the burning acid inside.
“You’re okay.” Bucky cupped your cheeks. “You’re going to be okay just-“
“No!” You slapped his hands away. “No im not going to be okay! I’m not okay! I need air!”
“You’re having a panic attack,” he reached for you again, “let me help you.”
You stepped back, your eyes widening as the sting of bile rose in your throat. The word PREGNANT has been at the forefront of your mind, repeating on a record.
You wanted kids, but not yet. You’d worked so hard to get where you are now.
“Baby please-“
You were going to be sick. You couldn’t breathe and you were going to be sick. You felt the bile rise in your throat, the stinging acid that burned as it crawled, the fresh wave of bushes tears making it hard to see as you nearly collapsed from the shock of what had just conspired.
“Are you okay?” Bucky was on you in an instant, an arm wrapped around your waist to steady you. “You’re flush.”
“I need air…” You mumbled under your breath, settling into a panic attack that was sever enough to induce nausea.
“Let me help you upstairs, doll.” Bucky started to help you stand and while his touch was comfortable, it was almost smothering.
His presence as an alpha gave you comfort you knew you needed yet it had also made you feel as if your breathing was even more restricted than it had been. It made you feel as though you were truly gasping for air.
“No!” You pushed him off of you with unknown strength. “No! I need air! I need to be alone!”
You rebuffed him and ran with all you had in you to the exit. You burst through the doors of Stark tower and pressed on even further. You ran until your lungs were burning and your heart was beating like a war drum in your chest and when you finally stopped, you sunk.
You sunk to your knees and wrapped your arms around yourself as you cried, as you screamed your frustrations.
You wanted to be a mother and you wanted your career.
You wanted a baby and you wanted your own mother back.
You wanted a family with Steve and Bucky, and you wanted to see the fruits of your years of hard work.
You cried until you couldn’t anymore. You cried until your voice was horse and your eyes were puffy.
You don’t know how long you were out there, wherever you were. You didn’t know how long you’d spent curled into yourself, crying until your voice was weak. You’d spent your energy running from your anxieties, running from the news that flipped your world upside down.
“It’s okay.” Steve’s voice hit your ears, the suffocating comfort was replaced with gentility. “You’re okay, doll.”
He came to your side and held you, he came to your side and embraced you as you broke down in his arms. You clung to him with as much might as you could gather, silently accepting the shift in comfort as he pulled you into his lap in whatever alley or on whatever street you’d found yourself on.
“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” Steve mumbled into your hair, he pressed his lips against the side of your forehead and soothes you with the gentle rocking of his body. “Let me take you home. Please.”
“Take me home.” You went lax in his arms, knowing that you had a lot more processing to go through but it would be better to do it in the comfort of their presence, with them being part of the conversation.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 hours ago
Text
The Auction: Part 2
Exhaustion was seeping from every pore on your body as you drug your feet through the quiet and pristine lobby, a series of black zipped and enclosed bags held in your left hand and some pink and white bags in the other. Balanced in your right hand along with the pink and white bags was your cellphone which had been buzzing from the moment you stepped out of the car and into Stark Tower.
The itching under your skin to check on the phone call was only outdone and outweighed by Natasha Romanoff’s quick strides as she moved throughout the lobby toward the elevator. You struggled to keep up with her while lugging your haul and the dresses in the closed bags that she made you buy with the bonus she gave you.
You took as large of strides as you could, and when you stepped into the elevator you huffed and leaned against the cool metal wall, hooking the hangers built into the closed dress bags on the metal railing. Without the bags in your hand, you were able to grip your phone with both hands and finally answer the buzzing that had caused the itching anxiousness.
As you leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator and answered emails and arranged the next week’s schedule, a rough outline anyway. You were quickly made aware of the elevator doors opening, by the sound of the doors parting like the Red Sea. The approach of two more people onto the elevator had not been enough to pull your attention away from your phone and your task of fixing and skeleton scheduling Natasha’s ‘life’ but the greeting she had tossed out was enough to steal your attention and cast it on the two men who were as wide as they were tall and built like solid mountains.
“Hello boys,” the message of Natasha’s greeting was friendly and neutral yet there was something about the tone of voice that made it seem like a jest at their behalf, “are you excited for Stark’s charity auction? A few days away. Do you have your eyes on anyone?”
You busied yourself with your phone, tapping away at whatever mindless game you could find, trying to make yourself appear ignorant to the conversation they were having. Despite your ears burning and their blue and blue-green eyes, respectively, on you, you kept your head down and your feigned naivety about what they were speaking about.
“You’re not in the auction this year?” The rumble of their voice, Steve’s you figured, had stirred the conversation and kept it alive, while you were trying not to be seen.
You found yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot with anxiousness. It was a tick of sorts, being so self-conscious when you were around people like Natasha and Steve and Bucky. When you were around beautiful and fit people that were ethereal in their nature and the picture-perfect vision of health and fitness and you…weren’t.
Given the mean-spirited nickname of ‘thunder thighs’ in your youth had stuck with you, mentally at least. You always felt as if you were hyper-aware of your soft stomach snd your heavy breasts that went along with your plus-sized figure. Your ass was neither tight nor small, and that made it difficult to feel confident in yourself, let alone your physicality’s when you had to meet with others under the guise of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA.
“Not me,” Natasha smirked, “but Y/N is.”
Though it didn’t necessarily show, you felt your cheeks burning from the near-constant and penetrating gaze that was cast on you. Your cheeks burned beneath your skin while the familiar souring of your stomach settled in as you prepared yourself mentally and emotionally for some sharp and snide comments about what a waste that would be.
You were preparing yourself for the jabs and the jests made at your expense. The little jokes and statements made that would bring laughter to space while you wallowed in your inability to ‘take a joke’ or the blatant offence you felt.
“Not entirely willingly…” You mumbled the lie, hoping that it would make you feel better about whatever they would say next.
“Is that what the bags are for?” Bucky asked, his blue-eyed gaze landing on the bags hanging on the metal pole attached to the wall of the elevator.
You turned your attention back to your phone, waiting for that eventual shoe to drop. You didn’t want them to see your weakness, though you were sure enough that they could sense it. You were sure they could sense your knees knocking and your stomach churning with anticipation of the inevitable.
“A few options for Y/N, ” Natasha had also cast her gaze upon your, though it was short-lived, “and a few surprises.”
Surprises being killed heels that made your legs good great and a pair of jeans that somehow seemed to flatter your body as it was without some hideous flower pattern on the ass cheeks to accentuate or some hideous cut that drew attention to yourself while simultaneously making you look as if you were by a jean covered blob.
Because that’s a lot of what fashion for plus size women was, a covering or a pattern or fabric that was meant to simply be on your body instead of embracing it.
“A dress for the auction, ” Natasha added.
“Since Natasha’s not allowed to be a part of it, ” you licked your bottom lip and prayed that the elevator would hurry its incontinence self up, “I was voluntold.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“That’s why I said ultimately said yes.”
“A woman like yourself up on that stage, ” Steve cracked a half-smile, “I’m sure you’ll get bid up real high.”
“Who wouldn’t want to spend a weekend with a dame like you?” Bucky added, pointedly looking you up and down.
The doors finally opened to your floor and you couldn’t have gotten out fast enough. You had all but ripped the dress bags from the railing and threw them over your shoulder, with the other bags beating against your leg as you power-stalked away from the doors and the three perfect people in the metal box.
You didn’t stop your power stalking until you were at your room door and had the door halfway open. You had unceremoniously thrown the bags away from you, not caring where they landed or how.
You kicked your shoes off next and with the same lack of haphazard care, you strode throughout your small apartment to your room, throwing the door open.
You threw yourself onto the bed and sighed, feeling a day’s worth of anxiety slowly seeping from your shoulders. Shopping with Natasha was pleasant enough if you ignored every single scrutinizing look. If you could ignore every comment under shop attendants breaths or the way their eyes followed you with thinly-veiled disgust at how a person like Natasha Romanoff could be seen with a person like you.
A person like you – a woman who was plus sized and not worth the attention of any man who had eyes.
A woman like you who was the brunt of every joke and who could only land a man if that man lost a bet.
The day of shopping produced high-end and beautiful clothes that made you feel like a million bucks, but all that confidence cracked when you saw the look in the shop attendant's eyes.
It was the silent judgement and looks of odium and the snide remarks about how one could let themselves feel good in that body.
And now, because you felt as though you were a pushover, you were going to be on stage in front of rich men and women who were among the most beautiful and elite.
“It won’t be bad, ” you sighed and rubbed your hands down your face, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.”
You could choose to wallow in your displeasure, or you could choose to keep your head high.
“Fuck it,” you mumbled, “it’s for charity. Natasha promised it would be fine.”
You sat up quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. You shift yourself to the end of the bed and pressed your palms flush against the bed. You placed your feet on the floor before standing and moving with purpose toward the dresses that you had haphazardly thrown.
“Im going to look good.” You snatched one of the bags from the floor and draped it on your couch. You reached out and pulled the zipper down, revealing the dress within that was a favourite of Nat’s.
“I may hate the whole evening but damn, ” you looked at the dress with fondness remembering how it looked on you, “I’ll look good.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 7 hours ago
Text
Way Down We Go or To All The Avengers I’ve Loved Before or Neverland or A Rose And A Bullet
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imaginedreamwrite · 10 hours ago
Text
Way Down We Go or To All The Avengers I’ve Loved Before or Neverland or A Rose And A Bullet
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imaginedreamwrite · 10 hours ago
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Reblog for tags: Tag list: @stanevansalways19 @eralen @ren-ni @maldita-world @imjusthereformggandsebastianstan
The Auction: Part 2
Exhaustion was seeping from every pore on your body as you drug your feet through the quiet and pristine lobby, a series of black zipped and enclosed bags held in your left hand and some pink and white bags in the other. Balanced in your right hand along with the pink and white bags was your cellphone which had been buzzing from the moment you stepped out of the car and into Stark Tower.
The itching under your skin to check on the phone call was only outdone and outweighed by Natasha Romanoff’s quick strides as she moved throughout the lobby toward the elevator. You struggled to keep up with her while lugging your haul and the dresses in the closed bags that she made you buy with the bonus she gave you.
You took as large of strides as you could, and when you stepped into the elevator you huffed and leaned against the cool metal wall, hooking the hangers built into the closed dress bags on the metal railing. Without the bags in your hand, you were able to grip your phone with both hands and finally answer the buzzing that had caused the itching anxiousness.
As you leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator and answered emails and arranged the next week’s schedule, a rough outline anyway. You were quickly made aware of the elevator doors opening, by the sound of the doors parting like the Red Sea. The approach of two more people onto the elevator had not been enough to pull your attention away from your phone and your task of fixing and skeleton scheduling Natasha’s ‘life’ but the greeting she had tossed out was enough to steal your attention and cast it on the two men who were as wide as they were tall and built like solid mountains.
“Hello boys,” the message of Natasha’s greeting was friendly and neutral yet there was something about the tone of voice that made it seem like a jest at their behalf, “are you excited for Stark’s charity auction? A few days away. Do you have your eyes on anyone?”
You busied yourself with your phone, tapping away at whatever mindless game you could find, trying to make yourself appear ignorant to the conversation they were having. Despite your ears burning and their blue and blue-green eyes, respectively, on you, you kept your head down and your feigned naivety about what they were speaking about.
“You’re not in the auction this year?” The rumble of their voice, Steve’s you figured, had stirred the conversation and kept it alive, while you were trying not to be seen.
You found yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot with anxiousness. It was a tick of sorts, being so self-conscious when you were around people like Natasha and Steve and Bucky. When you were around beautiful and fit people that were ethereal in their nature and the picture-perfect vision of health and fitness and you…weren’t.
Given the mean-spirited nickname of ‘thunder thighs’ in your youth had stuck with you, mentally at least. You always felt as if you were hyper-aware of your soft stomach snd your heavy breasts that went along with your plus-sized figure. Your ass was neither tight nor small, and that made it difficult to feel confident in yourself, let alone your physicality’s when you had to meet with others under the guise of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA.
“Not me,” Natasha smirked, “but Y/N is.”
Though it didn’t necessarily show, you felt your cheeks burning from the near-constant and penetrating gaze that was cast on you. Your cheeks burned beneath your skin while the familiar souring of your stomach settled in as you prepared yourself mentally and emotionally for some sharp and snide comments about what a waste that would be.
You were preparing yourself for the jabs and the jests made at your expense. The little jokes and statements made that would bring laughter to space while you wallowed in your inability to ‘take a joke’ or the blatant offence you felt.
“Not entirely willingly…” You mumbled the lie, hoping that it would make you feel better about whatever they would say next.
“Is that what the bags are for?” Bucky asked, his blue-eyed gaze landing on the bags hanging on the metal pole attached to the wall of the elevator.
You turned your attention back to your phone, waiting for that eventual shoe to drop. You didn’t want them to see your weakness, though you were sure enough that they could sense it. You were sure they could sense your knees knocking and your stomach churning with anticipation of the inevitable.
“A few options for Y/N, ” Natasha had also cast her gaze upon your, though it was short-lived, “and a few surprises.”
Surprises being killed heels that made your legs good great and a pair of jeans that somehow seemed to flatter your body as it was without some hideous flower pattern on the ass cheeks to accentuate or some hideous cut that drew attention to yourself while simultaneously making you look as if you were by a jean covered blob.
Because that’s a lot of what fashion for plus size women was, a covering or a pattern or fabric that was meant to simply be on your body instead of embracing it.
“A dress for the auction, ” Natasha added.
“Since Natasha’s not allowed to be a part of it, ” you licked your bottom lip and prayed that the elevator would hurry its incontinence self up, “I was voluntold.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“That’s why I said ultimately said yes.”
“A woman like yourself up on that stage, ” Steve cracked a half-smile, “I’m sure you’ll get bid up real high.”
“Who wouldn’t want to spend a weekend with a dame like you?” Bucky added, pointedly looking you up and down.
The doors finally opened to your floor and you couldn’t have gotten out fast enough. You had all but ripped the dress bags from the railing and threw them over your shoulder, with the other bags beating against your leg as you power-stalked away from the doors and the three perfect people in the metal box.
You didn’t stop your power stalking until you were at your room door and had the door halfway open. You had unceremoniously thrown the bags away from you, not caring where they landed or how.
You kicked your shoes off next and with the same lack of haphazard care, you strode throughout your small apartment to your room, throwing the door open.
You threw yourself onto the bed and sighed, feeling a day’s worth of anxiety slowly seeping from your shoulders. Shopping with Natasha was pleasant enough if you ignored every single scrutinizing look. If you could ignore every comment under shop attendants breaths or the way their eyes followed you with thinly-veiled disgust at how a person like Natasha Romanoff could be seen with a person like you.
A person like you – a woman who was plus sized and not worth the attention of any man who had eyes.
A woman like you who was the brunt of every joke and who could only land a man if that man lost a bet.
The day of shopping produced high-end and beautiful clothes that made you feel like a million bucks, but all that confidence cracked when you saw the look in the shop attendant's eyes.
It was the silent judgement and looks of odium and the snide remarks about how one could let themselves feel good in that body.
And now, because you felt as though you were a pushover, you were going to be on stage in front of rich men and women who were among the most beautiful and elite.
“It won’t be bad, ” you sighed and rubbed your hands down your face, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.”
You could choose to wallow in your displeasure, or you could choose to keep your head high.
“Fuck it,” you mumbled, “it’s for charity. Natasha promised it would be fine.”
You sat up quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. You shift yourself to the end of the bed and pressed your palms flush against the bed. You placed your feet on the floor before standing and moving with purpose toward the dresses that you had haphazardly thrown.
“Im going to look good.” You snatched one of the bags from the floor and draped it on your couch. You reached out and pulled the zipper down, revealing the dress within that was a favourite of Nat’s.
“I may hate the whole evening but damn, ” you looked at the dress with fondness remembering how it looked on you, “I’ll look good.”
** **
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Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13 @emogrils @swoopswishsward @marvelsangels @beardburnsupersoldiers @rvgrsbrns @captainchrisstan @stareyedplanet @fandom-basurero @awesomerextyphoon @chrisjaay @glimmering-darling-dolly @xbuckxnastyx @daydreaminginthechaos @psychiccreationtaco @rayofdawnworld @teller258316 @connie326 @asgardlover75 @ba-arish @socalgem1124 @nervousfandom @dont-cry-babydoll @call-me-baby-gir1 @sleep-i-ness @alexa-lightwood-blog @tenaciousperfectionunknown @archy3001 @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @muralskins @megamieversole-blog @buckysgirl101 @xxchexchickxx @bookfrog242 @belovedcherry @thefridgeismybestie @bibliophilewednesday @old-enough-to-know-better73 @hoe-for-sukusa @linniep @jessyballet @lunarmoon8 @darlingkeiji @hotti3lamotti3 @valsworldofcreativity @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @otherglowcloud @loveitorleaveit20 @jemimah-b99
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imaginedreamwrite · 11 hours ago
Text
The Auction: Part 2
Exhaustion was seeping from every pore on your body as you drug your feet through the quiet and pristine lobby, a series of black zipped and enclosed bags held in your left hand and some pink and white bags in the other. Balanced in your right hand along with the pink and white bags was your cellphone which had been buzzing from the moment you stepped out of the car and into Stark Tower.
The itching under your skin to check on the phone call was only outdone and outweighed by Natasha Romanoff’s quick strides as she moved throughout the lobby toward the elevator. You struggled to keep up with her while lugging your haul and the dresses in the closed bags that she made you buy with the bonus she gave you.
You took as large of strides as you could, and when you stepped into the elevator you huffed and leaned against the cool metal wall, hooking the hangers built into the closed dress bags on the metal railing. Without the bags in your hand, you were able to grip your phone with both hands and finally answer the buzzing that had caused the itching anxiousness.
As you leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator and answered emails and arranged the next week’s schedule, a rough outline anyway. You were quickly made aware of the elevator doors opening, by the sound of the doors parting like the Red Sea. The approach of two more people onto the elevator had not been enough to pull your attention away from your phone and your task of fixing and skeleton scheduling Natasha’s ‘life’ but the greeting she had tossed out was enough to steal your attention and cast it on the two men who were as wide as they were tall and built like solid mountains.
“Hello boys,” the message of Natasha’s greeting was friendly and neutral yet there was something about the tone of voice that made it seem like a jest at their behalf, “are you excited for Stark’s charity auction? A few days away. Do you have your eyes on anyone?”
You busied yourself with your phone, tapping away at whatever mindless game you could find, trying to make yourself appear ignorant to the conversation they were having. Despite your ears burning and their blue and blue-green eyes, respectively, on you, you kept your head down and your feigned naivety about what they were speaking about.
“You’re not in the auction this year?” The rumble of their voice, Steve’s you figured, had stirred the conversation and kept it alive, while you were trying not to be seen.
You found yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot with anxiousness. It was a tick of sorts, being so self-conscious when you were around people like Natasha and Steve and Bucky. When you were around beautiful and fit people that were ethereal in their nature and the picture-perfect vision of health and fitness and you…weren’t.
Given the mean-spirited nickname of ‘thunder thighs’ in your youth had stuck with you, mentally at least. You always felt as if you were hyper-aware of your soft stomach snd your heavy breasts that went along with your plus-sized figure. Your ass was neither tight nor small, and that made it difficult to feel confident in yourself, let alone your physicality’s when you had to meet with others under the guise of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA.
“Not me,” Natasha smirked, “but Y/N is.”
Though it didn’t necessarily show, you felt your cheeks burning from the near-constant and penetrating gaze that was cast on you. Your cheeks burned beneath your skin while the familiar souring of your stomach settled in as you prepared yourself mentally and emotionally for some sharp and snide comments about what a waste that would be.
You were preparing yourself for the jabs and the jests made at your expense. The little jokes and statements made that would bring laughter to space while you wallowed in your inability to ‘take a joke’ or the blatant offence you felt.
“Not entirely willingly…” You mumbled the lie, hoping that it would make you feel better about whatever they would say next.
“Is that what the bags are for?” Bucky asked, his blue-eyed gaze landing on the bags hanging on the metal pole attached to the wall of the elevator.
You turned your attention back to your phone, waiting for that eventual shoe to drop. You didn’t want them to see your weakness, though you were sure enough that they could sense it. You were sure they could sense your knees knocking and your stomach churning with anticipation of the inevitable.
“A few options for Y/N, ” Natasha had also cast her gaze upon your, though it was short-lived, “and a few surprises.”
Surprises being killed heels that made your legs good great and a pair of jeans that somehow seemed to flatter your body as it was without some hideous flower pattern on the ass cheeks to accentuate or some hideous cut that drew attention to yourself while simultaneously making you look as if you were by a jean covered blob.
Because that’s a lot of what fashion for plus size women was, a covering or a pattern or fabric that was meant to simply be on your body instead of embracing it.
“A dress for the auction, ” Natasha added.
“Since Natasha’s not allowed to be a part of it, ” you licked your bottom lip and prayed that the elevator would hurry its incontinence self up, “I was voluntold.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“That’s why I said ultimately said yes.”
“A woman like yourself up on that stage, ” Steve cracked a half-smile, “I’m sure you’ll get bid up real high.”
“Who wouldn’t want to spend a weekend with a dame like you?” Bucky added, pointedly looking you up and down.
The doors finally opened to your floor and you couldn’t have gotten out fast enough. You had all but ripped the dress bags from the railing and threw them over your shoulder, with the other bags beating against your leg as you power-stalked away from the doors and the three perfect people in the metal box.
You didn’t stop your power stalking until you were at your room door and had the door halfway open. You had unceremoniously thrown the bags away from you, not caring where they landed or how.
You kicked your shoes off next and with the same lack of haphazard care, you strode throughout your small apartment to your room, throwing the door open.
You threw yourself onto the bed and sighed, feeling a day’s worth of anxiety slowly seeping from your shoulders. Shopping with Natasha was pleasant enough if you ignored every single scrutinizing look. If you could ignore every comment under shop attendants breaths or the way their eyes followed you with thinly-veiled disgust at how a person like Natasha Romanoff could be seen with a person like you.
A person like you – a woman who was plus sized and not worth the attention of any man who had eyes.
A woman like you who was the brunt of every joke and who could only land a man if that man lost a bet.
The day of shopping produced high-end and beautiful clothes that made you feel like a million bucks, but all that confidence cracked when you saw the look in the shop attendant's eyes.
It was the silent judgement and looks of odium and the snide remarks about how one could let themselves feel good in that body.
And now, because you felt as though you were a pushover, you were going to be on stage in front of rich men and women who were among the most beautiful and elite.
“It won’t be bad, ” you sighed and rubbed your hands down your face, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.”
You could choose to wallow in your displeasure, or you could choose to keep your head high.
“Fuck it,” you mumbled, “it’s for charity. Natasha promised it would be fine.”
You sat up quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. You shift yourself to the end of the bed and pressed your palms flush against the bed. You placed your feet on the floor before standing and moving with purpose toward the dresses that you had haphazardly thrown.
“Im going to look good.” You snatched one of the bags from the floor and draped it on your couch. You reached out and pulled the zipper down, revealing the dress within that was a favourite of Nat’s.
“I may hate the whole evening but damn, ” you looked at the dress with fondness remembering how it looked on you, “I’ll look good.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 21 hours ago
Text
Baby Girl: Part 2
Your world bursting into colours vibrant and breathtaking had ironically cast a shadow over your personal life. The shift from vision of black and white to coloured freedom, had created a reactive shift in your relationship with Peter that you hadn’t been prepared for.
“Colours,” Peter mumbled into his cup of coffee, “what is it like?”
The tension between you two was still at a minimum, yet the fact that you’d found your soulmates had created this light fog that just sat over your heads, hovering low enough to be noticeable yet high enough not to be touched.
“Peter-“
“I know you can see colours. I knew the moment it happened.” He mumbled again, staring at the crack in the table you’d bought together.
“It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You moved around the table to his side, wrapping your arm around his back while your other hand rest on his left shoulder. “I love you, Peter.”
Your contact with his body had physically drew the tension from him, although that is where the ease stopped. Despite his shoulders and body being ridden of tension in his shoulders and his chest, his emotional apprehension was on the rise. It was hard to miss, almost impossible not to feel the chill exuding from Peter as the pair of you tried to grapple with the shaken pillars of your relationship.
How did you move past this? How did you return to a place before you saw colours and before you found out that two of the avengers were your soulmates? Were your heads in the clouds and your hearts in naivety?
Could there even be a place to come back to? Could the relationship pan out even with the recent event of meeting your soulmates hanging above your head?
“I love you too.” He turned his head and spoke into your hand on his shoulder. He pressed his lips into your palm after you’d opened your hand, giving you the smallest glimmer of affection that was more than enough for the moment. “We’ll make this work.”
The sentiment of the message was sweet and hopeful, yet it felt empty. It felt as if you were going to just be biding time until inevitable set in and broke you apart.
“Of course we will.” Your tight lipped smile and forced positivity had only added to the overcast sense of grim outcomes. “Did you want to go to Stark Tower together?”
The question felt like a buffer, a monotonous event that would bring anymore awkwardness to the already complicated situation. It was an offer to share a ride with the boy you’d loved for the past year, to be in each others presence while not addressing the elephant in the apartment.
“You start today?” Peter frowned, his eyebrows furrowed.
“First day working as medical staff at Stark Tower.” You let go of him and shuffled into the kitchen, dragging your feet toward the fridge. You grabbed the white handle and pulled, bending over to gaze at the contents inside before you decided on a ripe apple and a bottle of fiji water Peter brought home the day before.
After selecting your items and balancing them in your arms, your turned around to talk to Peter only to find the place where he once was, empty now.
“You see in colour,” Peter called from the living room, beckoning you with his voice.
As you crossed the distance, a smile broke on your face when you saw Peter standing in the living room in his full Spider-Man get up. He was posing for you with the familiar smile you loved most, on his face.
“Tell me what colour my suit is.” He placed his hands on his hips, watching you with playful flirtation.
“I can do that,” you walked toward him with renewed pep in your step. You stood in front of him and slid your hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, your eyes wandering the pattern of his suit and the colours that had been brought together to form the impressive technological apparel that had saved Peter’s life more than once.
“The shoulders are red with black details that make the suit itself look like spiders webs.” You touched and traced the black lines as you spoke, your attention on the way he filled out the spider suit and the feel of his tight muscles been the your hands.
“There are two blue bands that break up the red on your arms,” you touched the blue against the red, proving your point.
“There’s more blue?” Peter asked, his hands moving to your hips where he lightly squeezed.
“Yes,” you inhaled sharply, your eyes moving down his body toward his lower half, “from your waist to the middle of your calves are blue. From the middle of your calves to your feet are red with black detailed lines like the upper half.”
“We’ll make it work,” Peter brushed his thumb across your chin to lift your head, “it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
** **
“Are we going to talk about it?” Nat smirked while she was leaning against the bar side of the communal area the Avengers shared. Since the party, and their full ascent into fully coloured vision, Natasha has been on them relentlessly to try and get a peek into their brains.
“The kid has been dating the girl for a whole year,” Clint spoke from the lounger in the centre of the room, looking back at the two with a similar smirk to Natasha’s.
“And she’s a baby,” Natasha’s grin widened, “really robbing the cradle aren’t you boys?”
“She’s 20 Nat, almost 21.” Bucky spoke in defence of their situation.
“She’s not legal enough to drink and she’s barely legal enough to vote.” Natasha looked Steve up and down, with a raised eyebrow.
“She’s working here.” Bruce had quipped, looking at the tablet in his hands before he looked up. “She’s working on the medical floor as a registered nurse. Given your reputation, I think you’ll be seeing a lot of her.”
Bruce was speaking of Steve and Bucky’s penchant for getting into trouble where they was none, though the jab could’ve been aimed further toward Steve since the man couldn’t run away from a fight.
“We’re not pursuing anything.” Steve stood his ground and cut the silent accusations short. “The kid is a relationship with her-“
“It won’t last long.” Clint cut Steve off, pushing himself to sit up further. “We all know how the soulmate connection is. Even if you’re on the other side of the world, you’ll be drawn together eventually. No matter how hard you try to fight it.”
“She’s in a relationship, Barton.” Steve unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water and lift it to his lips. “We’re not going to interfere-“
“Its inevitable. Whether you want to interfere or not, there is a connection that won’t be ignored. They can try to push it off all they want, eventually one of them will break.”
Steve hummed after he swallowed, his eyebrows knit together. He slipped into a space of deep though, a place in his head that pulled his thoughts toward Peggy.
Steve and Bucky were able to see half colour when they recognized each other as soulmates. When Steve met Peggy, he had wished that his vision could’ve shifted to full colour. He wished that he could’ve seen the bright flashes of pigment that was described so heavily by those who had already met their soulmates and in book written exclusively on the topic.
When he didn’t see colour, and neither did Peggy, there was a part of Steve that was disappointed. There was a part of him that was almost distraught over not being able to have this woman who was breathtaking and confident, so sure of herself, as his soulmate.
He wanted Peggy.
Bucky wanted him. He had only ever spoke of Steve when he was alive in the 40’s, there was no connection to Peggy other than one of friendship.
“It’s inevitable,” Steve mumbled under his breath, chewing on the words.
Inevitable. Steve and Peggy were never meant for each other.
If fate would inevitably bring two soulmates together, than fate could inevitably separate two people who were never meant for each other.
“Eventually the relationship will fail as the connection between the three of you grows.” Bruce glanced from Steve to Bucky. “And there will be no turning back.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
a rose and a bullet is INCREDIBLE OH MY GOD JUST READ PART 1 AND DUDEEEEEEEE WHAT AN INCREDIBLE IDEA SUCH A GOOD STORY LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT SO WELL WRITTEN OOOOOOOOOH
can't wait for what's to come
Thank you!
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
Just wanted to say hi and tell you how much I enjoy your writing x
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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What’s next?
A Rose And A Bullet or Neverland or The Auction
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
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Reblog for tags: @singerintheshower @rue331 @karliewheatley67
Everything Has Changed: Part 13
Days spent in the state of the art lab preparing for the first attempts at the experimental synthesis of medication and DNA modifications that would ignite those receptors that drew omega’s to alpha’s and vice versa. It was the first day of the experiment and the entire lab was buzzing with excitement and hopefulness that this would further limit the repercussions of the Snap and Blip.
With the volunteers already checked into the lab, you were in the midst of preparing for your part in the experiment, when the approach of Dr. Banner had stopped you in your tracks.
On his approach, your stomach tightened as you recognized the face of bad news. You didn’t know what he was going to tell you or what would become of the rest of your day, but you knew that something was going to change.
You could feel it in your bones, you could see it clearly in his eyes and the way he carried himself that there was something unspoken that was bothering him.
You moved away from the core of the lab toward the far left side that was much quieter and would allow for a hushed conversation. When you came to stand in front of him, you shoved your hands into your lab coat pockets, fiddling with the pen to keep your nerves at a low.
“Dr. Banner, what’s the bad news?” You asked even if you didn’t want to. If you could’ve remained ignorant, you would have. However whether you wanted to know or not, Dr. Banner would tell you.
“Y/N,” he crossed his arms over his chest, hesitating to speak, “I know that you’ve spent countless hours preparing for the launch of this procedure-“
“-but…?” You felt the preemptive sting of tears.
“You can’t be a part of the experiment itself. The conditions to be part of the actual testing of the procedure are very clear-“
“What did I do wrong?” Tears blurred your vision, the airy gasps that left your mouth were the tip of the emotional iceberg.
“Nothing, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. You’re brilliant and talented, however the conditions do not allow pregnant women to partake in the procedure.”
“Pregnant?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m not pregnant…”
“I had to do a final test on the blood we’d taken and on every sample you’d given us to confirm your readiness. When I test your sampled and your blood, I got the confirmations.”
To prove the point he was trying to make, Dr. Banner handed you the tablet in his hands with all the data already loaded snd ready for you to see. On the tablet screen was the clear image of your hormone levels that has shifted as well as the sharp spike in estrogen and progesterone that proved not only were you pregnant, but the levels in which they’d increased had opened the possibility up to their being more than one baby.
“There’s no symptoms.”
“You know as well as I do the symptoms of pregnancy’s may not show up within the first month. Based on the hormone levels, I’d say you’re just under a month.” Dr. Banner placed his hand on your shoulder snd squeezed.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. But in my good conscience I can’t allow you to be one of the constant’s in the experiment. You can still run the trial and head it up if you would wish, however being part of it is no longer an option.”
“Pregnant.” You stared at the tablet while mentally being a mile away.
Kids. You’d always wanted kids, but later on in your life. You were only 22 and you’d just started your career.
You heard Dr. Banner speak yet you couldn’t take your attention off the numbers on the screen. You couldn’t take your eyes off the hormone spikes and the clear data that damned you from your own trial.
“You should tell Steve and Bucky-“
“Excuse me.” You handed the tablet back to him, more like shoved it into his arms, and pushed past him.
“Y/N, talk to Steve and Bucky. Tell them before you-“
“I need air. I need-“ you slipped your lab coat off and tossed it toward a desk chair. Before it could even land on the chair, you were headed toward the door of the lab. You placed your hand against the biometric lock and wait the half second as it scanned your DNA before it let you out. You slipped through the door and moved in a haze, completing everything action that would take you from the lab, to the elevator and then to the lobby of Stark Tower. You moved by autonomy, while your head was reeling and you were consumed by a constant barrage of questions aimed at yourself and your situation.
“Y/N!” Your name was called but you kept moving. “Y/N, stop!”
You kept moving until you collided with a body made of muscle snd strength. After colliding with the body, you craned your neck and studied the man hovering over you, relief and insignificant anguish at the pair of blue eyes watching you.
His brown hair, thick and luscious, was cut short. It was a new look for him after having his longer hair for a while. He was clean shaven too, it looked as fresh as his haircut. His blue eyes were caught between concern and caution, his hands reaching out to grab your arms.
He was your alpha, you should find comfort in his touch and yet…
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was holding your arms in gentle grasps. “You didn’t hear me calling your name. What’s wrong?”
Pregnant. You were pregnant.
“I need air. I need to get out of here. I need…” Your eyes dart around the lobby of Stark tower, your stomach churning the burning acid inside.
“You’re okay.” Bucky cupped your cheeks. “You’re going to be okay just-“
“No!” You slapped his hands away. “No im not going to be okay! I’m not okay! I need air!”
“You’re having a panic attack,” he reached for you again, “let me help you.”
You stepped back, your eyes widening as the sting of bile rose in your throat. The word PREGNANT has been at the forefront of your mind, repeating on a record.
You wanted kids, but not yet. You’d worked so hard to get where you are now.
“Baby please-“
You were going to be sick. You couldn’t breathe and you were going to be sick. You felt the bile rise in your throat, the stinging acid that burned as it crawled, the fresh wave of bushes tears making it hard to see as you nearly collapsed from the shock of what had just conspired.
“Are you okay?” Bucky was on you in an instant, an arm wrapped around your waist to steady you. “You’re flush.”
“I need air…” You mumbled under your breath, settling into a panic attack that was sever enough to induce nausea.
“Let me help you upstairs, doll.” Bucky started to help you stand and while his touch was comfortable, it was almost smothering.
His presence as an alpha gave you comfort you knew you needed yet it had also made you feel as if your breathing was even more restricted than it had been. It made you feel as though you were truly gasping for air.
“No!” You pushed him off of you with unknown strength. “No! I need air! I need to be alone!”
You rebuffed him and ran with all you had in you to the exit. You burst through the doors of Stark tower and pressed on even further. You ran until your lungs were burning and your heart was beating like a war drum in your chest and when you finally stopped, you sunk.
You sunk to your knees and wrapped your arms around yourself as you cried, as you screamed your frustrations.
You wanted to be a mother and you wanted your career.
You wanted a baby and you wanted your own mother back.
You wanted a family with Steve and Bucky, and you wanted to see the fruits of your years of hard work.
You cried until you couldn’t anymore. You cried until your voice was horse and your eyes were puffy.
You don’t know how long you were out there, wherever you were. You didn’t know how long you’d spent curled into yourself, crying until your voice was weak. You’d spent your energy running from your anxieties, running from the news that flipped your world upside down.
“It’s okay.” Steve’s voice hit your ears, the suffocating comfort was replaced with gentility. “You’re okay, doll.”
He came to your side and held you, he came to your side and embraced you as you broke down in his arms. You clung to him with as much might as you could gather, silently accepting the shift in comfort as he pulled you into his lap in whatever alley or on whatever street you’d found yourself on.
“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” Steve mumbled into your hair, he pressed his lips against the side of your forehead and soothes you with the gentle rocking of his body. “Let me take you home. Please.”
“Take me home.” You went lax in his arms, knowing that you had a lot more processing to go through but it would be better to do it in the comfort of their presence, with them being part of the conversation.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
Text
Everything Has Changed: Part 13
Days spent in the state of the art lab preparing for the first attempts at the experimental synthesis of medication and DNA modifications that would ignite those receptors that drew omega’s to alpha’s and vice versa. It was the first day of the experiment and the entire lab was buzzing with excitement and hopefulness that this would further limit the repercussions of the Snap and Blip.
With the volunteers already checked into the lab, you were in the midst of preparing for your part in the experiment, when the approach of Dr. Banner had stopped you in your tracks.
On his approach, your stomach tightened as you recognized the face of bad news. You didn’t know what he was going to tell you or what would become of the rest of your day, but you knew that something was going to change.
You could feel it in your bones, you could see it clearly in his eyes and the way he carried himself that there was something unspoken that was bothering him.
You moved away from the core of the lab toward the far left side that was much quieter and would allow for a hushed conversation. When you came to stand in front of him, you shoved your hands into your lab coat pockets, fiddling with the pen to keep your nerves at a low.
“Dr. Banner, what’s the bad news?” You asked even if you didn’t want to. If you could’ve remained ignorant, you would have. However whether you wanted to know or not, Dr. Banner would tell you.
“Y/N,” he crossed his arms over his chest, hesitating to speak, “I know that you’ve spent countless hours preparing for the launch of this procedure-“
“-but…?” You felt the preemptive sting of tears.
“You can’t be a part of the experiment itself. The conditions to be part of the actual testing of the procedure are very clear-“
“What did I do wrong?” Tears blurred your vision, the airy gasps that left your mouth were the tip of the emotional iceberg.
“Nothing, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. You’re brilliant and talented, however the conditions do not allow pregnant women to partake in the procedure.”
“Pregnant?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m not pregnant…”
“I had to do a final test on the blood we’d taken and on every sample you’d given us to confirm your readiness. When I test your sampled and your blood, I got the confirmations.”
To prove the point he was trying to make, Dr. Banner handed you the tablet in his hands with all the data already loaded snd ready for you to see. On the tablet screen was the clear image of your hormone levels that has shifted as well as the sharp spike in estrogen and progesterone that proved not only were you pregnant, but the levels in which they’d increased had opened the possibility up to their being more than one baby.
“There’s no symptoms.”
“You know as well as I do the symptoms of pregnancy’s may not show up within the first month. Based on the hormone levels, I’d say you’re just under a month.” Dr. Banner placed his hand on your shoulder snd squeezed.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. But in my good conscience I can’t allow you to be one of the constant’s in the experiment. You can still run the trial and head it up if you would wish, however being part of it is no longer an option.”
“Pregnant.” You stared at the tablet while mentally being a mile away.
Kids. You’d always wanted kids, but later on in your life. You were only 22 and you’d just started your career.
You heard Dr. Banner speak yet you couldn’t take your attention off the numbers on the screen. You couldn’t take your eyes off the hormone spikes and the clear data that damned you from your own trial.
“You should tell Steve and Bucky-“
“Excuse me.” You handed the tablet back to him, more like shoved it into his arms, and pushed past him.
“Y/N, talk to Steve and Bucky. Tell them before you-“
“I need air. I need-“ you slipped your lab coat off and tossed it toward a desk chair. Before it could even land on the chair, you were headed toward the door of the lab. You placed your hand against the biometric lock and wait the half second as it scanned your DNA before it let you out. You slipped through the door and moved in a haze, completing everything action that would take you from the lab, to the elevator and then to the lobby of Stark Tower. You moved by autonomy, while your head was reeling and you were consumed by a constant barrage of questions aimed at yourself and your situation.
“Y/N!” Your name was called but you kept moving. “Y/N, stop!”
You kept moving until you collided with a body made of muscle snd strength. After colliding with the body, you craned your neck and studied the man hovering over you, relief and insignificant anguish at the pair of blue eyes watching you.
His brown hair, thick and luscious, was cut short. It was a new look for him after having his longer hair for a while. He was clean shaven too, it looked as fresh as his haircut. His blue eyes were caught between concern and caution, his hands reaching out to grab your arms.
He was your alpha, you should find comfort in his touch and yet…
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was holding your arms in gentle grasps. “You didn’t hear me calling your name. What’s wrong?”
Pregnant. You were pregnant.
“I need air. I need to get out of here. I need…” Your eyes dart around the lobby of Stark tower, your stomach churning the burning acid inside.
“You’re okay.” Bucky cupped your cheeks. “You’re going to be okay just-“
“No!” You slapped his hands away. “No im not going to be okay! I’m not okay! I need air!”
“You’re having a panic attack,” he reached for you again, “let me help you.”
You stepped back, your eyes widening as the sting of bile rose in your throat. The word PREGNANT has been at the forefront of your mind, repeating on a record.
You wanted kids, but not yet. You’d worked so hard to get where you are now.
“Baby please-“
You were going to be sick. You couldn’t breathe and you were going to be sick. You felt the bile rise in your throat, the stinging acid that burned as it crawled, the fresh wave of bushes tears making it hard to see as you nearly collapsed from the shock of what had just conspired.
“Are you okay?” Bucky was on you in an instant, an arm wrapped around your waist to steady you. “You’re flush.”
“I need air…” You mumbled under your breath, settling into a panic attack that was sever enough to induce nausea.
“Let me help you upstairs, doll.” Bucky started to help you stand and while his touch was comfortable, it was almost smothering.
His presence as an alpha gave you comfort you knew you needed yet it had also made you feel as if your breathing was even more restricted than it had been. It made you feel as though you were truly gasping for air.
“No!” You pushed him off of you with unknown strength. “No! I need air! I need to be alone!”
You rebuffed him and ran with all you had in you to the exit. You burst through the doors of Stark tower and pressed on even further. You ran until your lungs were burning and your heart was beating like a war drum in your chest and when you finally stopped, you sunk.
You sunk to your knees and wrapped your arms around yourself as you cried, as you screamed your frustrations.
You wanted to be a mother and you wanted your career.
You wanted a baby and you wanted your own mother back.
You wanted a family with Steve and Bucky, and you wanted to see the fruits of your years of hard work.
You cried until you couldn’t anymore. You cried until your voice was horse and your eyes were puffy.
You don’t know how long you were out there, wherever you were. You didn’t know how long you’d spent curled into yourself, crying until your voice was weak. You’d spent your energy running from your anxieties, running from the news that flipped your world upside down.
“It’s okay.” Steve’s voice hit your ears, the suffocating comfort was replaced with gentility. “You’re okay, doll.”
He came to your side and held you, he came to your side and embraced you as you broke down in his arms. You clung to him with as much might as you could gather, silently accepting the shift in comfort as he pulled you into his lap in whatever alley or on whatever street you’d found yourself on.
“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” Steve mumbled into your hair, he pressed his lips against the side of your forehead and soothes you with the gentle rocking of his body. “Let me take you home. Please.”
“Take me home.” You went lax in his arms, knowing that you had a lot more processing to go through but it would be better to do it in the comfort of their presence, with them being part of the conversation.
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · a day ago
Text
The Auction: Part 1
Summary: In which Natasha pushes you to be auctioned off for a weekend for charity, and the opportunity arises for two super soldier’s to have reader at their mercy for a full weekend
** **
The Avengers were akin to celebrities and that created a need for personal assistants to help support and create ease in their lives while they fought off the threats that faced the world.
As a person assistant, your job revolved the most basic errands such as getting fresh coffee or picking up their dry cleaning, making their day to day as seamless as possible, to making sure all preparations were made for any and all trips that they would have to go on to save the world.
Being a personal assistant wasn’t a glamorous job, and the hours proved to be long and draining, but the pay was incredible. Not only was the pay incredible but the benefits of being a PA had vastly outweighed the negatives. Yes, you worked long hours and had a hectic schedule, but when your assigned avenger was on a mission overseas or on vacation, your free time grew exponentially.
As long as the basics were handled, you had quite a lot of time on your hands when they were in another country.
Your assigned avenger was Natasha Romanoff, and given her skill as an assassin and spy, your free time was on the higher end than someone who stuck closer to home like Peter Parker or Bruce Banner or even Tony Stark.
The hours that those PA’s worked we’re almost double your own, but that could also boil down to the privacy Natasha Romanoff required. Peter Parker, while he was in his senior year, had a PA who was nearly run on her feet after trying to keep up with Peter and his forgetfulness.
Bruce Banner’s PA was always tired, always had dark bags under her eyes after being kept late in the labs while Banner worked.
Tony Stark used his PA almost too much, which has caused his PA to put more miles on her car in one year while working for Tony than the 2 years prior.
One disadvantage of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA was the incessant looks you’d received when you were in her presence. Natasha Romanoff was a beautiful woman, she was completely breathtaking and she knew it. She knew she was a deadly woman with her fists and her physical appearance and that drew questions whenever you were introduced as her PA.
If Natasha Romanoff was such a bombshell, then why did she choose a PA who was not? Why did Natasha Romanoff have a PA who was ‘pretty for a big girl’, who’s thighs had been rubbing together since you were 13. Why would Natasha Romanoff have a PA who looked as if she had swallowed two of her?
You were a woman who was plus-sized, and spent the greater amount of your time working for a woman who was the epitome of men’s fantasies. It was enough of a contrast to draw comments under breaths or snide looks. It was almost a constant reminder that no matter what, you wouldn’t fit well into their world aside from working for them.
Despite the comments and the snide looks, the depreciating hand signals that would be fired toward you for a ‘few good laughs’ Natasha treat you no different than she treat anyone of her team mates.
Natasha was a woman who had put in the effort to make you feel as comfortable as possible while working for her, and in your defence, had told the commentators, usually men, how quickly she could dismember them without leaving evidence behind.
You may have been verbally bullied about your size as a plus sized woman, but Natasha would never treat you with so much disrespect. Natasha had treat you as if you were her little sister rather than her PA, and that meant talking you up from the low places you would sometimes notch yourself in.
Natasha was an amazing woman and you admired her.
Even if she had pushed you out of your comfort zone toward new unchartered waters.
“You’re attending the charity auction.” She told you, handing you an invitation. “I need you there.”
She was constantly trying to push you toward a place where you could see your own value.
“Charity auction for the sick kids foundation?” You read the invitation twice.
“They’re auctioning off weekends spent shadowing avengers or weekend dates with volunteers for the auction.” Natasha explained while adjusting and fixing her eyeliner.
“So you need me to go and make sure everything is sorted out?” You behind her, tapping on the tablet in your hands.
“Not exactly, kukla.” Natasha locked eyes with you in the mirror. “I can’t volunteer this year on account of what happened last year on the ‘date’, but you can.”
The tablet in your hands has nearly fallen to the floor. It had nearly slipped from your grips to the soft carpet below your feet as the registration of what she said had gave way to shock.
“What?” You frowned and furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m sorry..:what did you just say?”
Natasha smirked in the mirror, adjusting her stance after she reached for a metal container of mascara. She hadn’t given you an explanation of elaborated on what she had said right off the bat. She had coat her eyelashes with mascara until she was satisfied, then she pressed her lips together.
“I said you can. I put you down on the docket to be auctioned for a weekend of fun. It’ll do you some good.” While Natasha had been unbothered by her decision to offer you up as a volunteer for the auction, you were not.
“Why would you do that?” You hissed. “No one will bid!”
“Are you sure?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. “I think there are more men attracted to you than you think.”
Your snort and derision was a precursor to your eyes rolling. You had mirrored her stance by crossing your arms over your chest and cocking your hip out. You were having two different reactions that were each battling for control, first was your mental reaction that was akin to a nuclear meltdown in your head and the other was your emotionally pressed yet coolness snippiness that had taken over.
“I’d like to believe that, but there’s a better chance of seeing pigs fly.” Your comment had rolled off Natasha like water off a duck’s back, she didn’t even acknowledge your comment or your dig at yourself.
“As a friend,” Natasha asked with a tone of voice that was more telling, “I am going to put you on the volunteer list. As a friend, I am doing this because there are men out there who are attracted to you and have even tried flirting with you-“
“I’ve been flirt with?” Your irritation turned to general confusion.
“-and they feel like this is the best way to get your attention. So will you please-“ she didn’t even need to twist your arm before you caved.
“-it’s for a good cause.” There was a bubbling in your belly as butterflies sprung to life, “what the hell. I’m in.”
“Good.” Natasha stride toward you and pinched your cheeks, “now let’s get you a dress that’s show-stopping.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
Text
The Auction: Part 1
Summary: In which Natasha pushes you to be auctioned off for a weekend for charity, and the opportunity arises for two super soldier’s to have reader at their mercy for a full weekend
** **
The Avengers were akin to celebrities and that created a need for personal assistants to help support and create ease in their lives while they fought off the threats that faced the world.
As a person assistant, your job revolved the most basic errands such as getting fresh coffee or picking up their dry cleaning, making their day to day as seamless as possible, to making sure all preparations were made for any and all trips that they would have to go on to save the world.
Being a personal assistant wasn’t a glamorous job, and the hours proved to be long and draining, but the pay was incredible. Not only was the pay incredible but the benefits of being a PA had vastly outweighed the negatives. Yes, you worked long hours and had a hectic schedule, but when your assigned avenger was on a mission overseas or on vacation, your free time grew exponentially.
As long as the basics were handled, you had quite a lot of time on your hands when they were in another country.
Your assigned avenger was Natasha Romanoff, and given her skill as an assassin and spy, your free time was on the higher end than someone who stuck closer to home like Peter Parker or Bruce Banner or even Tony Stark.
The hours that those PA’s worked we’re almost double your own, but that could also boil down to the privacy Natasha Romanoff required. Peter Parker, while he was in his senior year, had a PA who was nearly run on her feet after trying to keep up with Peter and his forgetfulness.
Bruce Banner’s PA was always tired, always had dark bags under her eyes after being kept late in the labs while Banner worked.
Tony Stark used his PA almost too much, which has caused his PA to put more miles on her car in one year while working for Tony than the 2 years prior.
One disadvantage of being Natasha Romanoff’s PA was the incessant looks you’d received when you were in her presence. Natasha Romanoff was a beautiful woman, she was completely breathtaking and she knew it. She knew she was a deadly woman with her fists and her physical appearance and that drew questions whenever you were introduced as her PA.
If Natasha Romanoff was such a bombshell, then why did she choose a PA who was not? Why did Natasha Romanoff have a PA who was ‘pretty for a big girl’, who’s thighs had been rubbing together since you were 13. Why would Natasha Romanoff have a PA who looked as if she had swallowed two of her?
You were a woman who was plus-sized, and spent the greater amount of your time working for a woman who was the epitome of men’s fantasies. It was enough of a contrast to draw comments under breaths or snide looks. It was almost a constant reminder that no matter what, you wouldn’t fit well into their world aside from working for them.
Despite the comments and the snide looks, the depreciating hand signals that would be fired toward you for a ‘few good laughs’ Natasha treat you no different than she treat anyone of her team mates.
Natasha was a woman who had put in the effort to make you feel as comfortable as possible while working for her, and in your defence, had told the commentators, usually men, how quickly she could dismember them without leaving evidence behind.
You may have been verbally bullied about your size as a plus sized woman, but Natasha would never treat you with so much disrespect. Natasha had treat you as if you were her little sister rather than her PA, and that meant talking you up from the low places you would sometimes notch yourself in.
Natasha was an amazing woman and you admired her.
Even if she had pushed you out of your comfort zone toward new unchartered waters.
“You’re attending the charity auction.” She told you, handing you an invitation. “I need you there.”
She was constantly trying to push you toward a place where you could see your own value.
“Charity auction for the sick kids foundation?” You read the invitation twice.
“They’re auctioning off weekends spent shadowing avengers or weekend dates with volunteers for the auction.” Natasha explained while adjusting and fixing her eyeliner.
“So you need me to go and make sure everything is sorted out?” You behind her, tapping on the tablet in your hands.
“Not exactly, kukla.” Natasha locked eyes with you in the mirror. “I can’t volunteer this year on account of what happened last year on the ‘date’, but you can.”
The tablet in your hands has nearly fallen to the floor. It had nearly slipped from your grips to the soft carpet below your feet as the registration of what she said had gave way to shock.
“What?” You frowned and furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m sorry..:what did you just say?”
Natasha smirked in the mirror, adjusting her stance after she reached for a metal container of mascara. She hadn’t given you an explanation of elaborated on what she had said right off the bat. She had coat her eyelashes with mascara until she was satisfied, then she pressed her lips together.
“I said you can. I put you down on the docket to be auctioned for a weekend of fun. It’ll do you some good.” While Natasha had been unbothered by her decision to offer you up as a volunteer for the auction, you were not.
“Why would you do that?” You hissed. “No one will bid!”
“Are you sure?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. “I think there are more men attracted to you than you think.”
Your snort and derision was a precursor to your eyes rolling. You had mirrored her stance by crossing your arms over your chest and cocking your hip out. You were having two different reactions that were each battling for control, first was your mental reaction that was akin to a nuclear meltdown in your head and the other was your emotionally pressed yet coolness snippiness that had taken over.
“I’d like to believe that, but there’s a better chance of seeing pigs fly.” Your comment had rolled off Natasha like water off a duck’s back, she didn’t even acknowledge your comment or your dig at yourself.
“As a friend,” Natasha asked with a tone of voice that was more telling, “I am going to put you on the volunteer list. As a friend, I am doing this because there are men out there who are attracted to you and have even tried flirting with you-“
“I’ve been flirt with?” Your irritation turned to general confusion.
“-and they feel like this is the best way to get your attention. So will you please-“ she didn’t even need to twist your arm before you caved.
“-it’s for a good cause.” There was a bubbling in your belly as butterflies sprung to life, “what the hell. I’m in.”
“Good.” Natasha stride toward you and pinched your cheeks, “now let’s get you a dress that’s show-stopping.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
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Reblog for tags: @kmuir1 @patzammit @casiaregina @blameitonthecauseway @okilover02 @mrsalh32611 @pocket-of-possibilities @marquisofmelis @ungratefultroll @nostragoddess @fire-flv @dispatchvampire @peterbparkersbae @inumorph @mjaudrey @annabethchaseinyourface @joossieisdabomb
Baby Girl: Part 2
Your world bursting into colours vibrant and breathtaking had ironically cast a shadow over your personal life. The shift from vision of black and white to coloured freedom, had created a reactive shift in your relationship with Peter that you hadn’t been prepared for.
“Colours,” Peter mumbled into his cup of coffee, “what is it like?”
The tension between you two was still at a minimum, yet the fact that you’d found your soulmates had created this light fog that just sat over your heads, hovering low enough to be noticeable yet high enough not to be touched.
“Peter-“
“I know you can see colours. I knew the moment it happened.” He mumbled again, staring at the crack in the table you’d bought together.
“It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You moved around the table to his side, wrapping your arm around his back while your other hand rest on his left shoulder. “I love you, Peter.”
Your contact with his body had physically drew the tension from him, although that is where the ease stopped. Despite his shoulders and body being ridden of tension in his shoulders and his chest, his emotional apprehension was on the rise. It was hard to miss, almost impossible not to feel the chill exuding from Peter as the pair of you tried to grapple with the shaken pillars of your relationship.
How did you move past this? How did you return to a place before you saw colours and before you found out that two of the avengers were your soulmates? Were your heads in the clouds and your hearts in naivety?
Could there even be a place to come back to? Could the relationship pan out even with the recent event of meeting your soulmates hanging above your head?
“I love you too.” He turned his head and spoke into your hand on his shoulder. He pressed his lips into your palm after you’d opened your hand, giving you the smallest glimmer of affection that was more than enough for the moment. “We’ll make this work.”
The sentiment of the message was sweet and hopeful, yet it felt empty. It felt as if you were going to just be biding time until inevitable set in and broke you apart.
“Of course we will.” Your tight lipped smile and forced positivity had only added to the overcast sense of grim outcomes. “Did you want to go to Stark Tower together?”
The question felt like a buffer, a monotonous event that would bring anymore awkwardness to the already complicated situation. It was an offer to share a ride with the boy you’d loved for the past year, to be in each others presence while not addressing the elephant in the apartment.
“You start today?” Peter frowned, his eyebrows furrowed.
“First day working as medical staff at Stark Tower.” You let go of him and shuffled into the kitchen, dragging your feet toward the fridge. You grabbed the white handle and pulled, bending over to gaze at the contents inside before you decided on a ripe apple and a bottle of fiji water Peter brought home the day before.
After selecting your items and balancing them in your arms, your turned around to talk to Peter only to find the place where he once was, empty now.
“You see in colour,” Peter called from the living room, beckoning you with his voice.
As you crossed the distance, a smile broke on your face when you saw Peter standing in the living room in his full Spider-Man get up. He was posing for you with the familiar smile you loved most, on his face.
“Tell me what colour my suit is.” He placed his hands on his hips, watching you with playful flirtation.
“I can do that,” you walked toward him with renewed pep in your step. You stood in front of him and slid your hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, your eyes wandering the pattern of his suit and the colours that had been brought together to form the impressive technological apparel that had saved Peter’s life more than once.
“The shoulders are red with black details that make the suit itself look like spiders webs.” You touched and traced the black lines as you spoke, your attention on the way he filled out the spider suit and the feel of his tight muscles been the your hands.
“There are two blue bands that break up the red on your arms,” you touched the blue against the red, proving your point.
“There’s more blue?” Peter asked, his hands moving to your hips where he lightly squeezed.
“Yes,” you inhaled sharply, your eyes moving down his body toward his lower half, “from your waist to the middle of your calves are blue. From the middle of your calves to your feet are red with black detailed lines like the upper half.”
“We’ll make it work,” Peter brushed his thumb across your chin to lift your head, “it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
** **
“Are we going to talk about it?” Nat smirked while she was leaning against the bar side of the communal area the Avengers shared. Since the party, and their full ascent into fully coloured vision, Natasha has been on them relentlessly to try and get a peek into their brains.
“The kid has been dating the girl for a whole year,” Clint spoke from the lounger in the centre of the room, looking back at the two with a similar smirk to Natasha’s.
“And she’s a baby,” Natasha’s grin widened, “really robbing the cradle aren’t you boys?”
“She’s 20 Nat, almost 21.” Bucky spoke in defence of their situation.
“She’s not legal enough to drink and she’s barely legal enough to vote.” Natasha looked Steve up and down, with a raised eyebrow.
“She’s working here.” Bruce had quipped, looking at the tablet in his hands before he looked up. “She’s working on the medical floor as a registered nurse. Given your reputation, I think you’ll be seeing a lot of her.”
Bruce was speaking of Steve and Bucky’s penchant for getting into trouble where they was none, though the jab could’ve been aimed further toward Steve since the man couldn’t run away from a fight.
“We’re not pursuing anything.” Steve stood his ground and cut the silent accusations short. “The kid is a relationship with her-“
“It won’t last long.” Clint cut Steve off, pushing himself to sit up further. “We all know how the soulmate connection is. Even if you’re on the other side of the world, you’ll be drawn together eventually. No matter how hard you try to fight it.”
“She’s in a relationship, Barton.” Steve unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water and lift it to his lips. “We’re not going to interfere-“
“Its inevitable. Whether you want to interfere or not, there is a connection that won’t be ignored. They can try to push it off all they want, eventually one of them will break.”
Steve hummed after he swallowed, his eyebrows knit together. He slipped into a space of deep though, a place in his head that pulled his thoughts toward Peggy.
Steve and Bucky were able to see half colour when they recognized each other as soulmates. When Steve met Peggy, he had wished that his vision could’ve shifted to full colour. He wished that he could’ve seen the bright flashes of pigment that was described so heavily by those who had already met their soulmates and in book written exclusively on the topic.
When he didn’t see colour, and neither did Peggy, there was a part of Steve that was disappointed. There was a part of him that was almost distraught over not being able to have this woman who was breathtaking and confident, so sure of herself, as his soulmate.
He wanted Peggy.
Bucky wanted him. He had only ever spoke of Steve when he was alive in the 40’s, there was no connection to Peggy other than one of friendship.
“It’s inevitable,” Steve mumbled under his breath, chewing on the words.
Inevitable. Steve and Peggy were never meant for each other.
If fate would inevitably bring two soulmates together, than fate could inevitably separate two people who were never meant for each other.
“Eventually the relationship will fail as the connection between the three of you grows.” Bruce glanced from Steve to Bucky. “And there will be no turning back.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
Text
Baby Girl: Part 2
Your world bursting into colours vibrant and breathtaking had ironically cast a shadow over your personal life. The shift from vision of black and white to coloured freedom, had created a reactive shift in your relationship with Peter that you hadn’t been prepared for.
“Colours,” Peter mumbled into his cup of coffee, “what is it like?”
The tension between you two was still at a minimum, yet the fact that you’d found your soulmates had created this light fog that just sat over your heads, hovering low enough to be noticeable yet high enough not to be touched.
“Peter-“
“I know you can see colours. I knew the moment it happened.” He mumbled again, staring at the crack in the table you’d bought together.
“It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You moved around the table to his side, wrapping your arm around his back while your other hand rest on his left shoulder. “I love you, Peter.”
Your contact with his body had physically drew the tension from him, although that is where the ease stopped. Despite his shoulders and body being ridden of tension in his shoulders and his chest, his emotional apprehension was on the rise. It was hard to miss, almost impossible not to feel the chill exuding from Peter as the pair of you tried to grapple with the shaken pillars of your relationship.
How did you move past this? How did you return to a place before you saw colours and before you found out that two of the avengers were your soulmates? Were your heads in the clouds and your hearts in naivety?
Could there even be a place to come back to? Could the relationship pan out even with the recent event of meeting your soulmates hanging above your head?
“I love you too.” He turned his head and spoke into your hand on his shoulder. He pressed his lips into your palm after you’d opened your hand, giving you the smallest glimmer of affection that was more than enough for the moment. “We’ll make this work.”
The sentiment of the message was sweet and hopeful, yet it felt empty. It felt as if you were going to just be biding time until inevitable set in and broke you apart.
“Of course we will.” Your tight lipped smile and forced positivity had only added to the overcast sense of grim outcomes. “Did you want to go to Stark Tower together?”
The question felt like a buffer, a monotonous event that would bring anymore awkwardness to the already complicated situation. It was an offer to share a ride with the boy you’d loved for the past year, to be in each others presence while not addressing the elephant in the apartment.
“You start today?” Peter frowned, his eyebrows furrowed.
“First day working as medical staff at Stark Tower.” You let go of him and shuffled into the kitchen, dragging your feet toward the fridge. You grabbed the white handle and pulled, bending over to gaze at the contents inside before you decided on a ripe apple and a bottle of fiji water Peter brought home the day before.
After selecting your items and balancing them in your arms, your turned around to talk to Peter only to find the place where he once was, empty now.
“You see in colour,” Peter called from the living room, beckoning you with his voice.
As you crossed the distance, a smile broke on your face when you saw Peter standing in the living room in his full Spider-Man get up. He was posing for you with the familiar smile you loved most, on his face.
“Tell me what colour my suit is.” He placed his hands on his hips, watching you with playful flirtation.
“I can do that,” you walked toward him with renewed pep in your step. You stood in front of him and slid your hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, your eyes wandering the pattern of his suit and the colours that had been brought together to form the impressive technological apparel that had saved Peter’s life more than once.
“The shoulders are red with black details that make the suit itself look like spiders webs.” You touched and traced the black lines as you spoke, your attention on the way he filled out the spider suit and the feel of his tight muscles been the your hands.
“There are two blue bands that break up the red on your arms,” you touched the blue against the red, proving your point.
“There’s more blue?” Peter asked, his hands moving to your hips where he lightly squeezed.
“Yes,” you inhaled sharply, your eyes moving down his body toward his lower half, “from your waist to the middle of your calves are blue. From the middle of your calves to your feet are red with black detailed lines like the upper half.”
“We’ll make it work,” Peter brushed his thumb across your chin to lift your head, “it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
** **
“Are we going to talk about it?” Nat smirked while she was leaning against the bar side of the communal area the Avengers shared. Since the party, and their full ascent into fully coloured vision, Natasha has been on them relentlessly to try and get a peek into their brains.
“The kid has been dating the girl for a whole year,” Clint spoke from the lounger in the centre of the room, looking back at the two with a similar smirk to Natasha’s.
“And she’s a baby,” Natasha’s grin widened, “really robbing the cradle aren’t you boys?”
“She’s 20 Nat, almost 21.” Bucky spoke in defence of their situation.
“She’s not legal enough to drink and she’s barely legal enough to vote.” Natasha looked Steve up and down, with a raised eyebrow.
“She’s working here.” Bruce had quipped, looking at the tablet in his hands before he looked up. “She’s working on the medical floor as a registered nurse. Given your reputation, I think you’ll be seeing a lot of her.”
Bruce was speaking of Steve and Bucky’s penchant for getting into trouble where they was none, though the jab could’ve been aimed further toward Steve since the man couldn’t run away from a fight.
“We’re not pursuing anything.” Steve stood his ground and cut the silent accusations short. “The kid is a relationship with her-“
“It won’t last long.” Clint cut Steve off, pushing himself to sit up further. “We all know how the soulmate connection is. Even if you’re on the other side of the world, you’ll be drawn together eventually. No matter how hard you try to fight it.”
“She’s in a relationship, Barton.” Steve unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water and lift it to his lips. “We’re not going to interfere-“
“Its inevitable. Whether you want to interfere or not, there is a connection that won’t be ignored. They can try to push it off all they want, eventually one of them will break.”
Steve hummed after he swallowed, his eyebrows knit together. He slipped into a space of deep though, a place in his head that pulled his thoughts toward Peggy.
Steve and Bucky were able to see half colour when they recognized each other as soulmates. When Steve met Peggy, he had wished that his vision could’ve shifted to full colour. He wished that he could’ve seen the bright flashes of pigment that was described so heavily by those who had already met their soulmates and in book written exclusively on the topic.
When he didn’t see colour, and neither did Peggy, there was a part of Steve that was disappointed. There was a part of him that was almost distraught over not being able to have this woman who was breathtaking and confident, so sure of herself, as his soulmate.
He wanted Peggy.
Bucky wanted him. He had only ever spoke of Steve when he was alive in the 40’s, there was no connection to Peggy other than one of friendship.
“It’s inevitable,” Steve mumbled under his breath, chewing on the words.
Inevitable. Steve and Peggy were never meant for each other.
If fate would inevitably bring two soulmates together, than fate could inevitably separate two people who were never meant for each other.
“Eventually the relationship will fail as the connection between the three of you grows.” Bruce glanced from Steve to Bucky. “And there will be no turning back.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
Text
Baby Girl update is almost finished! What’s next?
Everything Has Changed or To All The Avengers I’ve Loved Before or Way Down We Go or Neverland or A Rose And A Bullet
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 days ago
Text
The Vow: Part 4
Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. Four weeks had passed, come and went in a blink of an eye and in those four weeks, the house has been peacefully quiet.
For four weeks, Bucky had helped you move about, he cooked for you, he did all the cleaning and the laundry while you rest or stretched your legs by walking around the house on crutches.
He took care of the house and he took care of you. At the end of the four weeks, it was time to go back to town and get your cast looked at to see if you could get it removed. The trip to town would be a general checkup as well, to measure how you were doing and adjusting. The doctor would take a few questions and receive a few answers as to how you were making out with Bucky, and then the final point of the trip would be to set you up with a physical therapist.
Four weeks had passed, come and gone and you were none the wiser to the darkness lurking behind his blue eyes. You were none the wiser to the strings he had both pulled and played to get you to where you are now and he had intended on keeping it that way.
Your entire life had been wrapped up in the mystery of your disappearance, while Bucky had starkly cut contact with everyone at the Avengers Compound for the sole purpose of needing to heal from the aftermath of Steve giving up the shield and retiring and Bucky suffering another ‘mental attack’. No one was going to come looking for him, and Sam was far too busy being the new Captain America to worry about the ‘asshole hidden away in the mountains’.
It was your own private escape, and Bucky’s carefully crafted creation that gave him everything he was missing; a beautiful and devoted wife and mother to his future children.
He finally felt like he had gotten what he deserved, what was owed to him. After everything he had went through, after all the sacrifice and the torture, the mind controlling Hydra had cast upon him while hiding in SHIELD, Bucky finally had something for himself.
“Morning sweetheart,” Bucky greet you without having to look to see if you were behind him, he could hear the sound of your crutches as you moved and the clinking of your ring against the pole as you tried to adjust.
“You didn’t wake me?” You questioned, slowly yet surely coming to the very pen that Bucky was leaning against.
“I wanted you to sleep,” Bucky threw some food into the pen, stirring the goats from their lazy slumber, “you looked so peaceful.”
“In the four weeks since I’ve been home,” you winced when your ankle touched the ground, “I’ve never seen any of the animals you said we had.”
Bucky leaned into your side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he steadied you. His blue eyes studied your cast before his gaze fell to your eyes. “Are you okay? Is your ankle hurting?”
“It’s itchy.” You furrowed your brows and shivered lightly, speaking of the blue cast around your ankle with distaste and aggravation. “I can’t wait to get it off.”
Bucky’s attention fell below your eyes, his gaze raking down your body to your breasts that were hidden beneath one of his flannel jackets. Even with his jacket obscuring your breasts from his view, he knew that you wouldn’t have worn a bra beneath the layers. You had forgone the items while at home, as Bucky had told you that when it was just you and him, he wanted easy access to your breasts, pussy and ass as often as possible. You hadn’t argued, not after Bucky convinced you by eating you out on almost every flat surface possible.
“Baby,” Bucky’s voice deepened and his eyes flashed, “are you sure you should be out here?”
The topic of conversation was standard and innocent, but the look in his eyes and the desire to taste you on his tongue was making Bucky truly debate whether he wanted to reschedule all your appointments and just take you on every surface in the cabin.
However, if he hadn’t brought you to the doctor and got your cast off when it was supposed to be taken off, that would raise questions and concerns. None of which Bucky needed right now.
“I saw on the calendar that I have a follow up with the doctor,” you licked your bottom lip, hobbling toward the fence which kept the small goats inside their designated area, “that’s today?”
Bucky followed your gaze as it fell on the goats, the small coloured stubborn animals who will provide so much for you out here. The small animals that Bucky had sincerely felt pride in taking care of, and after this year, he’d planned on adding some cows in the back field should the situation allow.
“We’re almost entirely self sufficient out here.” He came to stand beside you, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, “we wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else.”
“Goats,” you pondered the word as if it was entirely new to you, “I think…did I used to like goats?”
Bucky flexed his fingers on your waist, his possessive hold on you clearly making shivers rush up and down your spine as you pressed into him. Seeing you in his clothes, knowing that his cum dripped out of your pussy and down your thighs after he stained you with his semen, was addictive. Just seeing all the ways that he had marked you, and your skin, to solidify you as his, was addictive.
It was like a drug that he didn’t know he needed, and now it was like second air to him.
“You loved all kinds of animals.” Bucky removed his hand from your waist to check the time on his wrist. “Shit. We have to leave in the next 10 minutes if we want to make your appointment on time.”
Bucky had taken you by surprise again by lifting you in his arms to carry you into the cabin. He held you as if you weighed nothing, as if he could have balanced you in one arm and still lift another full sized man.
As Bucky crossed the threshold, he was careful enough not to jostle you in anyway. He moved from the front entrance to the wooden staircase that led to the upper floor, each step taken with grace that you could never have mustered on your own.
“I’ll help you get dressed.” Bucky set you down on the bed and depart your side for the his-and-hers walk in closets. He opened your closet and reach in without looking, grabbing a plain white shirt and a pair of sweats.
“Take off your clothes.” Bucky called to you from the closet, giving you the order while grabbing the last few items that you needed.
When he came around and saw that you hadn’t moved, he clicked his tongue against his teeth and crouched in front of you. He placed his hand on your knee and gripped your kneecap tightly before he jerked your legs open to his eyesight.
“You’ve been such a good girl lately, darling.” His hand slithered up your thigh, the heat from his palm burning through your pyjama pants to your flesh. “Don’t make daddy have to spank you.”
He knew he caught you off guard when you inhaled sharply and your eyes widened considerably. Your lips had part just enough for Bucky to see your tongue brushing against the back of your bottom teeth, bobbing up and down as you swallowed.
“D-daddy?” You stuttered.
“You have a daddy kink, baby.” He squeezed your leg, his blue eyes darkening as he glanced you up and down. “You’re my baby girl and you call me daddy in bed. Sometimes.” Bucky reached up his left hand and brushed your hair behind your ear, trailing his cool fingers down your jaw to your lips. He used his metal thumb to pull down on your bottom lip until the flesh of your lip touched the flesh between your lips and chin.
“Do I have to ask again?” His eyes flashed with the promise of punishment should you have denied him.
“No-“ you squeaked when his hand shot up your thigh and squeezed your flesh through your pyjama pants.
“Correctly, doll.” His voice vibrated and rumbled.
“No daddy,” You swallowed thickly again, “you don’t have to ask again.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 3 days ago
Text
Reblog for tags: @leyannrose @slutforsebstan @offcast-plus1
The Vow: Part 4
Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. Four weeks had passed, come and went in a blink of an eye and in those four weeks, the house has been peacefully quiet.
For four weeks, Bucky had helped you move about, he cooked for you, he did all the cleaning and the laundry while you rest or stretched your legs by walking around the house on crutches.
He took care of the house and he took care of you. At the end of the four weeks, it was time to go back to town and get your cast looked at to see if you could get it removed. The trip to town would be a general checkup as well, to measure how you were doing and adjusting. The doctor would take a few questions and receive a few answers as to how you were making out with Bucky, and then the final point of the trip would be to set you up with a physical therapist.
Four weeks had passed, come and gone and you were none the wiser to the darkness lurking behind his blue eyes. You were none the wiser to the strings he had both pulled and played to get you to where you are now and he had intended on keeping it that way.
Your entire life had been wrapped up in the mystery of your disappearance, while Bucky had starkly cut contact with everyone at the Avengers Compound for the sole purpose of needing to heal from the aftermath of Steve giving up the shield and retiring and Bucky suffering another ‘mental attack’. No one was going to come looking for him, and Sam was far too busy being the new Captain America to worry about the ‘asshole hidden away in the mountains’.
It was your own private escape, and Bucky’s carefully crafted creation that gave him everything he was missing; a beautiful and devoted wife and mother to his future children.
He finally felt like he had gotten what he deserved, what was owed to him. After everything he had went through, after all the sacrifice and the torture, the mind controlling Hydra had cast upon him while hiding in SHIELD, Bucky finally had something for himself.
“Morning sweetheart,” Bucky greet you without having to look to see if you were behind him, he could hear the sound of your crutches as you moved and the clinking of your ring against the pole as you tried to adjust.
“You didn’t wake me?” You questioned, slowly yet surely coming to the very pen that Bucky was leaning against.
“I wanted you to sleep,” Bucky threw some food into the pen, stirring the goats from their lazy slumber, “you looked so peaceful.”
“In the four weeks since I’ve been home,” you winced when your ankle touched the ground, “I’ve never seen any of the animals you said we had.”
Bucky leaned into your side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he steadied you. His blue eyes studied your cast before his gaze fell to your eyes. “Are you okay? Is your ankle hurting?”
“It’s itchy.” You furrowed your brows and shivered lightly, speaking of the blue cast around your ankle with distaste and aggravation. “I can’t wait to get it off.”
Bucky’s attention fell below your eyes, his gaze raking down your body to your breasts that were hidden beneath one of his flannel jackets. Even with his jacket obscuring your breasts from his view, he knew that you wouldn’t have worn a bra beneath the layers. You had forgone the items while at home, as Bucky had told you that when it was just you and him, he wanted easy access to your breasts, pussy and ass as often as possible. You hadn’t argued, not after Bucky convinced you by eating you out on almost every flat surface possible.
“Baby,” Bucky’s voice deepened and his eyes flashed, “are you sure you should be out here?”
The topic of conversation was standard and innocent, but the look in his eyes and the desire to taste you on his tongue was making Bucky truly debate whether he wanted to reschedule all your appointments and just take you on every surface in the cabin.
However, if he hadn’t brought you to the doctor and got your cast off when it was supposed to be taken off, that would raise questions and concerns. None of which Bucky needed right now.
“I saw on the calendar that I have a follow up with the doctor,” you licked your bottom lip, hobbling toward the fence which kept the small goats inside their designated area, “that’s today?”
Bucky followed your gaze as it fell on the goats, the small coloured stubborn animals who will provide so much for you out here. The small animals that Bucky had sincerely felt pride in taking care of, and after this year, he’d planned on adding some cows in the back field should the situation allow.
“We’re almost entirely self sufficient out here.” He came to stand beside you, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, “we wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else.”
“Goats,” you pondered the word as if it was entirely new to you, “I think…did I used to like goats?”
Bucky flexed his fingers on your waist, his possessive hold on you clearly making shivers rush up and down your spine as you pressed into him. Seeing you in his clothes, knowing that his cum dripped out of your pussy and down your thighs after he stained you with his semen, was addictive. Just seeing all the ways that he had marked you, and your skin, to solidify you as his, was addictive.
It was like a drug that he didn’t know he needed, and now it was like second air to him.
“You loved all kinds of animals.” Bucky removed his hand from your waist to check the time on his wrist. “Shit. We have to leave in the next 10 minutes if we want to make your appointment on time.”
Bucky had taken you by surprise again by lifting you in his arms to carry you into the cabin. He held you as if you weighed nothing, as if he could have balanced you in one arm and still lift another full sized man.
As Bucky crossed the threshold, he was careful enough not to jostle you in anyway. He moved from the front entrance to the wooden staircase that led to the upper floor, each step taken with grace that you could never have mustered on your own.
“I’ll help you get dressed.” Bucky set you down on the bed and depart your side for the his-and-hers walk in closets. He opened your closet and reach in without looking, grabbing a plain white shirt and a pair of sweats.
“Take off your clothes.” Bucky called to you from the closet, giving you the order while grabbing the last few items that you needed.
When he came around and saw that you hadn’t moved, he clicked his tongue against his teeth and crouched in front of you. He placed his hand on your knee and gripped your kneecap tightly before he jerked your legs open to his eyesight.
“You’ve been such a good girl lately, darling.” His hand slithered up your thigh, the heat from his palm burning through your pyjama pants to your flesh. “Don’t make daddy have to spank you.”
He knew he caught you off guard when you inhaled sharply and your eyes widened considerably. Your lips had part just enough for Bucky to see your tongue brushing against the back of your bottom teeth, bobbing up and down as you swallowed.
“D-daddy?” You stuttered.
“You have a daddy kink, baby.” He squeezed your leg, his blue eyes darkening as he glanced you up and down. “You’re my baby girl and you call me daddy in bed. Sometimes.” Bucky reached up his left hand and brushed your hair behind your ear, trailing his cool fingers down your jaw to your lips. He used his metal thumb to pull down on your bottom lip until the flesh of your lip touched the flesh between your lips and chin.
“Do I have to ask again?” His eyes flashed with the promise of punishment should you have denied him.
“No-“ you squeaked when his hand shot up your thigh and squeezed your flesh through your pyjama pants.
“Correctly, doll.” His voice vibrated and rumbled.
“No daddy,” You swallowed thickly again, “you don’t have to ask again.”
** **
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imaginedreamwrite · 3 days ago
Text
The Vow: Part 4
Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. Four weeks had passed, come and went in a blink of an eye and in those four weeks, the house has been peacefully quiet.
For four weeks, Bucky had helped you move about, he cooked for you, he did all the cleaning and the laundry while you rest or stretched your legs by walking around the house on crutches.
He took care of the house and he took care of you. At the end of the four weeks, it was time to go back to town and get your cast looked at to see if you could get it removed. The trip to town would be a general checkup as well, to measure how you were doing and adjusting. The doctor would take a few questions and receive a few answers as to how you were making out with Bucky, and then the final point of the trip would be to set you up with a physical therapist.
Four weeks had passed, come and gone and you were none the wiser to the darkness lurking behind his blue eyes. You were none the wiser to the strings he had both pulled and played to get you to where you are now and he had intended on keeping it that way.
Your entire life had been wrapped up in the mystery of your disappearance, while Bucky had starkly cut contact with everyone at the Avengers Compound for the sole purpose of needing to heal from the aftermath of Steve giving up the shield and retiring and Bucky suffering another ‘mental attack’. No one was going to come looking for him, and Sam was far too busy being the new Captain America to worry about the ‘asshole hidden away in the mountains’.
It was your own private escape, and Bucky’s carefully crafted creation that gave him everything he was missing; a beautiful and devoted wife and mother to his future children.
He finally felt like he had gotten what he deserved, what was owed to him. After everything he had went through, after all the sacrifice and the torture, the mind controlling Hydra had cast upon him while hiding in SHIELD, Bucky finally had something for himself.
“Morning sweetheart,” Bucky greet you without having to look to see if you were behind him, he could hear the sound of your crutches as you moved and the clinking of your ring against the pole as you tried to adjust.
“You didn’t wake me?” You questioned, slowly yet surely coming to the very pen that Bucky was leaning against.
“I wanted you to sleep,” Bucky threw some food into the pen, stirring the goats from their lazy slumber, “you looked so peaceful.”
“In the four weeks since I’ve been home,” you winced when your ankle touched the ground, “I’ve never seen any of the animals you said we had.”
Bucky leaned into your side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he steadied you. His blue eyes studied your cast before his gaze fell to your eyes. “Are you okay? Is your ankle hurting?”
“It’s itchy.” You furrowed your brows and shivered lightly, speaking of the blue cast around your ankle with distaste and aggravation. “I can’t wait to get it off.”
Bucky’s attention fell below your eyes, his gaze raking down your body to your breasts that were hidden beneath one of his flannel jackets. Even with his jacket obscuring your breasts from his view, he knew that you wouldn’t have worn a bra beneath the layers. You had forgone the items while at home, as Bucky had told you that when it was just you and him, he wanted easy access to your breasts, pussy and ass as often as possible. You hadn’t argued, not after Bucky convinced you by eating you out on almost every flat surface possible.
“Baby,” Bucky’s voice deepened and his eyes flashed, “are you sure you should be out here?”
The topic of conversation was standard and innocent, but the look in his eyes and the desire to taste you on his tongue was making Bucky truly debate whether he wanted to reschedule all your appointments and just take you on every surface in the cabin.
However, if he hadn’t brought you to the doctor and got your cast off when it was supposed to be taken off, that would raise questions and concerns. None of which Bucky needed right now.
“I saw on the calendar that I have a follow up with the doctor,” you licked your bottom lip, hobbling toward the fence which kept the small goats inside their designated area, “that’s today?”
Bucky followed your gaze as it fell on the goats, the small coloured stubborn animals who will provide so much for you out here. The small animals that Bucky had sincerely felt pride in taking care of, and after this year, he’d planned on adding some cows in the back field should the situation allow.
“We’re almost entirely self sufficient out here.” He came to stand beside you, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, “we wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else.”
“Goats,” you pondered the word as if it was entirely new to you, “I think…did I used to like goats?”
Bucky flexed his fingers on your waist, his possessive hold on you clearly making shivers rush up and down your spine as you pressed into him. Seeing you in his clothes, knowing that his cum dripped out of your pussy and down your thighs after he stained you with his semen, was addictive. Just seeing all the ways that he had marked you, and your skin, to solidify you as his, was addictive.
It was like a drug that he didn’t know he needed, and now it was like second air to him.
“You loved all kinds of animals.” Bucky removed his hand from your waist to check the time on his wrist. “Shit. We have to leave in the next 10 minutes if we want to make your appointment on time.”
Bucky had taken you by surprise again by lifting you in his arms to carry you into the cabin. He held you as if you weighed nothing, as if he could have balanced you in one arm and still lift another full sized man.
As Bucky crossed the threshold, he was careful enough not to jostle you in anyway. He moved from the front entrance to the wooden staircase that led to the upper floor, each step taken with grace that you could never have mustered on your own.
“I’ll help you get dressed.” Bucky set you down on the bed and depart your side for the his-and-hers walk in closets. He opened your closet and reach in without looking, grabbing a plain white shirt and a pair of sweats.
“Take off your clothes.” Bucky called to you from the closet, giving you the order while grabbing the last few items that you needed.
When he came around and saw that you hadn’t moved, he clicked his tongue against his teeth and crouched in front of you. He placed his hand on your knee and gripped your kneecap tightly before he jerked your legs open to his eyesight.
“You’ve been such a good girl lately, darling.” His hand slithered up your thigh, the heat from his palm burning through your pyjama pants to your flesh. “Don’t make daddy have to spank you.”
He knew he caught you off guard when you inhaled sharply and your eyes widened considerably. Your lips had part just enough for Bucky to see your tongue brushing against the back of your bottom teeth, bobbing up and down as you swallowed.
“D-daddy?” You stuttered.
“You have a daddy kink, baby.” He squeezed your leg, his blue eyes darkening as he glanced you up and down. “You’re my baby girl and you call me daddy in bed. Sometimes.” Bucky reached up his left hand and brushed your hair behind your ear, trailing his cool fingers down your jaw to your lips. He used his metal thumb to pull down on your bottom lip until the flesh of your lip touched the flesh between your lips and chin.
“Do I have to ask again?” His eyes flashed with the promise of punishment should you have denied him.
“No-“ you squeaked when his hand shot up your thigh and squeezed your flesh through your pyjama pants.
“Correctly, doll.” His voice vibrated and rumbled.
“No daddy,” You swallowed thickly again, “you don’t have to ask again.”
** **
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