#Natasha romanoff death fanfic

[marilynthornhilllover]

SO I GOT WASTED LIKE ALL MY POTENTIAL

Natasha romanoff x fem!reader

Warning: angst, grief, depression themes,heartbreak, death,adoptive daughter,just sad stuff🥲❤️‍🩹

A/n: I apologize for any tears shedded through out this fanfic😭🥲

It's been 5 years.....

5 long years

5 hard years

5 depressive years

5 lonely years

5 years without her by your side

5 years without her laughter

5 years without her smile

5 years without her hugs

5 years without her.

It's been 5 years since natasha romanoff died....Your lover. Your wife. The mother of your daughter. The one who kept you going when you so badly wanted to stop. The one who kept you smiling, Laughing, living when all you wanted to do was die.

The evening you found out natasha died, your world fell like a dynasty. It crumbled like an old castle on a mountain. Clint came back with the stone in his hands trying to reason with you but you couldn't even look at him. Yelana tried to cope you through the grief but she needed the comfort also.... she lost her sister...It's crazy how your world fell apart in one day. You felt lost, empty, broken, confused. You felt everything at once and you needed it to stop you needed everything and everyone to go away.

The hardest thing you had to do was tell your 6 year old daughter natalie who's birthday was a day after Natasha's birthday "that mama wasn't going to be coming back but she's in a more better and safer place". Your heart broke when you saw your daughters eyes filled with tears as she dropped her teddy bear and ask " do mommy not like me anymore?,did she leave becauseof me?". You hugged her and told her that "that wasn't the case and mommy is just resting and one day you'll see her again".

Even though Natalie wasn't you or Natasha's biological daughter she reminded you of natasha more than ever. Her laugh, her little pout when she didn't even her way, her stubborn personality, her giggles and smiles to the way she would try to do cartwheels all the time but still couldn't land them successful. You saw natasha in everythingshe did or even said. she even had natashas slice red hair color.You wanted to name her after natasha but natasha thought it was weird so you both settled for Natalie.

You would call natasha 'natty' sometimes or even 'tasha' and it's the name name you'd call your daughter by. You'd still remember the way natasha held her, played with her, lift her up when she cried, gaved her candy even when you said no, start prank wars with her against you, braid her hair she they can be twins, bring her toys when she was gone for a long time, read her stories, pick her up from school, buy her smoothies, blow her food for her when it was too hot, sleep in her bed when she had nightmares, teach her Russian. You remembered it all as if it was yesterday.

Part of you wanted to cling onto the memories natasha left you with, the love she inspired you to use, the confidence she made you learn to have the there was this bitter side of you that wanted to forget all about her, and move on. Forget how she would wash your hair, cook your favorite spicy food, gaved you nose kisses, let you wear her sweater, bought you teddy bears that she found cute, the way she would cuddle with you. The way she made love to you... so gentle and caring. You wanted to forget that she even existed. But how evil could you be if you did.

She did exist, and she was a legend. A kind soul, a beautiful human being, a pure person. Someone who cared, someone who loved, someone who provides, someone who protects, someone who shares, someone who teaches, someone who's fights. She was real..... and she was perfect....

Your sad that she's gone but your happy that she was yours. Yours to laugh with and at, yours to love, yours to kiss. She was everything to you and she still is. Because she left you with a beautiful little girl she shines brighter than her. Everytime you look into Natalie's big green eyes you see natasha, everytime you braid her beautiful long red hair, you remember natasha, everytime Natalie didn't get her way and pouted you remember natasha, everytime Natalie laughed, smiled or do something remotely funny or silly or even brave, you remembered natasha.

You remembered her through her clothes, her pictures, her favorite food, her favorite things, her favorite places, her favorite books, her favorite songs. Natasha will always be in your hearts. Always.

Even though she's gone she still hasn't left. Because she's with you in spirit and that gives you comfort. You smile at sunsets because it's what she loved looking at, you take natalie to cloud watching because it's what natasha spent half her childhood doing, you loved doing back bridges with natalie because it's one of the things natasha was good at. You even dyed your hair red because no one rocks the color like she does. You'd laugh at bad Russian pronouncing because she was flawless at hers.

You loved watching action movies because it was something she loved doing....

You chuckled as you kissed her tombstone, falling into your trance again before you were quickly pulled back by a whistle. Natasha and yelenas whistle. You looked back to see yelena chasing your daughter natalie who was chasing a blue butterfly. Natalie giggled as yelena caught her and pushed her down on the ground. Yelena smiled as she tickles the poor girl. You smile at the scene before you, wishing Natasha could see it. But she was... she was smiling from heaven...

" natty" you called out and your daughter turned to look at you. Yelena did too and the name made her heart clench harder than the day she heard about Natasha's death. You saw her eyes flash as the throbbing pain came back to her chest. She sniffed and looked away from you as she helped natalie stand to her feet, dusting her dress and teddy bear from leafs and grass.

" Come here natalie let's say goodbye to mom" you spoke trying to stay strong into front of the little girl, making sure tears don't well in your eyes and your voice don't break but yelena saw right through you.

You daughter ran up to you smiling her pig tales swinging in the wind as her dress flew freely. You daughter huffed as she wiped a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead and sat in your lap. Yelana sitting on the other side of you. You caressed your daughters head as you looked down at her.

" what do you wanna tell mom baby?" You asked and she looked up and placed her tiny finger on her chin.

" ummm" she spoke as she continued to look up, she gasped as she looked at you smiling. She turned to the tombstone and giggled.

" so mama, mommy took me to take out my tooth because it was wobbly and we placed it in a small zip lock bag and put it under my pillow and the tooth fairy gaved me 10 dollars!" She exclaimed clapping her hands. Yelena smiled at her and gasped.

" good job малыш" yelena spoke.

" so mama I got you this teddy bear that says, I miss you because I do miss you" she spoke placing the teddy bear and some flowers on the grass. You sighed trying your hardest not to cry as your daughter kissed the tombstone.

" mommy says one day I can see you again and I hope it's on my birthday so we could have all the cake in the world" she spoke as she giggled.

" good job baby, now say goodbye to mom" you spoke rubbing her back, and she did before running off and doing a cartwheel that she actually finally landed. You smiled at her, yelena has been teaching her for weeks and your happy that she finally learned how to do one. You looked over and yelena and she smiled at you but it didn't reached her eyes. She was in pain... you tapped your shoulder and left, getting in the car with natalie.

You sniffed as a tear broke free but you ket the rest a bay before you broke down.

" I miss you nat, so much..... I love you, keep doing heavens most beautiful angel.... bye my love" you spoke as you kissed her tombstone. You placed the flowers down and took a good look at it.

Natasha romanoff, a mother, wife, sister, daughter, friend and an avenger....

You smiled and walked away. You'll come vist her grave again in the next 3 weeks..... who knows if it will be the last......

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Secrets

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff X Reader, Natasha Romanoff X Reader

This fic is inspired by the song Secret by the Pierces and the HBO Max show Love and Death. I recommend listening to the song before reading but it's not necessary :)

Warnings: This story will contain dark themes (such as cheating, violence, stalking behaviour, murder) 18+ Smut and angst. Please consider these warnings before reading! If you do read, please bear in mind I did warn you of these topics.

Chapter 1- Would you be interested in having an affair? (4.7k words)

Other Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5

Would You Be Interested In Having An Affair?

Got a secret, can you keep it?

Swear this one you'll save

Better lock it in your pocket

Taking this one to the grave

If I show you then I know you won't tell what I said

'Cause two can keep a secret

if one of them is dead.

The car came to a slow and gentle stop, Natasha's hand leaving your thigh to pull the handbrake up, securing the car before turning her gaze to you. Her green eyes stared at you in a loving way, a soft smile breaking out onto her face when she sees your eyes firmly locked on the doors ahead, watching the various other people flood into the building. Her hand returns to your leg, squeezing gently to gain your attention, succeeding as you tear your gaze away from the glass doors to your girlfriend.

Your body relaxes at her soft and encouraging smile, your hand sliding on top of hers and turning it over so you could interlock your fingers.

"You'll be amazing love," she whispers, her accent slipping into her words as she raises your hand to her lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of it.

"I don't even know the rules," you mumble to disagree with her, giving her a nervous look as a small chuckle leaves her lips.

"That might be a problem," she says playfully, the light hearted tone somehow helping ease the nerves. "It's a new volleyball club, love, I'm sure half the people here don't know the rules either," she says, truth to her words.

Westview had just opened a new sports centre with a volleyball court for anyone to use, the Avengers facility providing a designated time slot for a volleyball club to start for people interested in starting a new hobby. You'd always been interested in the sport despite not knowing much about it so, when Natasha brought it up to you, you leapt at the opportunity to finally play the sport. You were one of the first names to sign up to the club, unaware that your neighbour had also been one of the first to sign up.

"I can escape Melina and Alexie to come and pick you up whenever you need," she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you smile at the mention of her leaving her parents earlier. Natasha had wanted to join you on the first trial of the club but her parents demanded her at dinner alone, the latter not too fond of you hence not being invited.

"Nat," you chuckle out, her giving you an innocent look, "You can't use me as an excuse to ditch your parents, no matter how...charming they are," you reprimand, her rolling her eyes jokingly and grumbling at how unfair that was causing you to laugh. "I'll meet you at home?" You ask, breaking the short silence that had taken over the car, her nodding her head and leaning over to kiss you.

Her lips met yours gently, her hand cupping your jaw as she claimed your lips once more, her reluctance to leave making you smile into the kiss.

"Go," you mutter against her lips, unable to stop the smile etched onto her face as she smiles into another kiss.

"I'd rather stay," she murmurs and you let out a small laugh.

"If you're late Melina will, oh I don't know, chop me up with an axe," you joke, causing her to burst out with laughter.

"Fine," she says while still chuckling, "I love you and good luck," she steals one more kiss as a goodbye, leaning back into her seat properly while you unbuckle your belt and grab your bag from the back seat.

"I love you too and I will see you at home," your tone soft as you bid her goodbye, shutting the car door and making your way to the entrance of the sports centre, waving to her when her car drives past.

***

"Y/n?" Turning around at hearing your name being called, your eyes widen and brows furrow momentarily when you see your neighbour walk up towards you in the changing rooms.

"Wanda?" Your tone is a little surprised, not expecting to see her here. "Are you also here for Volleyball?" you ask, the question is rather stupid as it was the only event tonight. She lets out an angelic laugh, placing her bag down next to yours on the bench and opening the locker, leaving her watch and wedding ring inside there before unzipping her bag.

"Yes, dear," she chuckles out and a shy feeling consumes you as her gaze remains on you, your thoughts screaming at you to say something else but she beats you to it, "And it looks like we're on the same team." You follow her gaze to the shirt the man at the desk gave you, the colour indicating you were on the red team which the older woman was also on.

"It appears so," you say, turning your attention to the woman before your breath hitches, shocked at the sight of her pulling her shirt over her head, exposing her bra-covered chest.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

A prominent blush forms on your cheeks, your eyes now glued onto your bag as you focus on anything but the beautiful woman next to you. Your mind ran wild with thoughts, most of them berating you for thinking that she was a real life goddess as you had Natasha. Natasha, your girlfriend.

Was it wrong to think about Wanda when you had Natasha? Probably, but you convinced yourself that it wasn't love or lust it was a mere... appreciation? Admiration? For the other woman. She definitely didn't somehow consume your thoughts every time you saw her. Definitely not.

You cleared your throat, not noticing how Wanda smirked next to you at your reaction, tugging her team shirt over her head as you timidly changed into yours, trying to start a conversation to divert your attention and ease your nerves.

"Have... Have you ever played Volleyball before?" You ask, pulling your own shirt over your head and making sure to not look to your right where the brunette was.

"I played it during College and loved it," she answers, pulling up her shorts as you did the same, risking a glance at her as she was now fully changed. You regretted the decision immediately upon seeing how short the green clothing was, flickering your eyes up away from her long, slender legs to her green eyes that had a glint of mischief hidden within them. "What about you?" her tone interested as you pack your things away into the lockers, making your way into the main room with the various sports lines painted along the floor.

"Never," you sigh out, looking around at all the other people here and the other teams. "I don't even know the rules," you mutter, starting to wish you were with Natasha instead and enduring the grief her parents would unleash on you.

"Then I'll have to teach you," she whispers with a thick accent, her mouth close to your ear as her body moves behind yours, probably too close for how neighbours should interact.

Her leg slides in between yours, the sharp intake of breath from you not being heard by others due to the chatter around the room but definitely by the older woman. She moves her foot to yours, sliding your foot across and spreading your legs to have you in the proper stance, her hands on your hips to further show you the position. "That's it, perfect, just like that," you almost groan at her low tone, guilt stirring inside you as you feel arousal pooling between your thighs, the thought of Natasha fading from your mind. "A little lower," she murmurs, guiding you into a semi squat, the feeling of her hand at your lower back now burning into your skin. "You want to be on the balls of your feet, keeping your weight on your back foot though and knees slightly flexed," she instructs but if your being honest, nothing is processing as her breath tickles your neck, her hands gliding up and down your body to show you how to do things.

The shrill noise of a whistle interrupts your mini 'lesson' with Wanda, your heart knocking wildly against your rib cage at the interaction between you both. You follow her to the centre of the room where everyone was, trailing behind to try and get a grip of yourself but inevitably casting your gaze down to her hips that sway ever so subtly and her ass.

"For the first day, we're only going to do short matches to help those who've never played before and warm up the others who know the rules," a man named Steve Rogers said in a loud voice so everyone could hear him, hoping everyone was properly concentrating on the rules as he explained them. To say you were listening would have been a lie, too busy getting distracted by the woman next to you and constantly stealing glances her way.

You were snapped back to reality when everyone around you started moving, watching closely to see where everyone else on your team had gone so you could sit with them. You sat on the floor opposed to the bench as it was full, greeting everyone on the team and trying to learn their names and whether they'd played before. Turns out, everyone on your team had played the sport except you, causing you to apologise in advance for your mistakes that were bound to happen.

"Do you want a quick run through?" A man named Clint says after chuckling at your nervousness, your head nodding as you moved closer to him. You paid full attention to his very brief explanation of the rules and positions, trying to wrap your head around it before your team were called up to play the Yellow team by Steve.

"You've got this," Wanda says with a smirk as you walk to the court, winking at you playfully before getting into her position, bending her knees a little and waiting for the whistle to sound.

Here goes nothing.

***

"Five minutes left!" Steve calls out on the final game, and you thank every single god up there for the game almost being over.

Sweat coated your body, your breath ragged from running about constantly to try and do anything useful to help your team win the final game. You managed to pick up the rules as you went along and were guided by the people behind you, Bucky and Sam helping you immensely while Wanda played her role as... well you weren't sure of her position but you knew she was extremely good at it.

"I got it," a man named Tony on the other team shouted, hitting it down with force onto your side of the court, your body moving instinctively to stop him from scoring a point. What you failed to consider was the other member of your team heading for the ball as well, colliding into their body and falling forwards hard on your knees, foot twisting awkwardly.

"Shit," you groaned, pain shooting up your ankle as your head leaned back against the cold floor, eyes resting for a moment as you tried to catch your breath.

"Language!" Steve shouted, eyes snapping open and a look of annoyance washing over your face at his stern voice. You were just about to shout back to him how you didn't give a single fuck about using bad language when Wanda dropped to her knees in a state of panic, her body leaning over yours.

"Are you alright?" Her tone laced with worry, hands moving to the back of your leg. Your mouth parted at the sigh of her above you, the green of her eyes swirling with care as you laid on the ground injured.

"I'm fine," you dismiss with a nervous chuckle, moving to sit up, her hand falling from your leg and moving to your back. She doesn't seem to believe your words but you insist you prove to her you're fine, taking Bucky and Clint's hands to get back to your feet. "Fuck," you say under your breath when putting any sort of pressure on your foot, face scrunching up into pain.

"You're hurt," she says, the look she sends your way shutting you up from any further comments. "I've got her," Wanda says to the others, moving her body so that your arm was around her shoulder, using her as support as you left the court, moving to the closest bench possible.

"Thank you," you murmur when you sit down, removing any pressure from your foot to help relieve the pain.

"You need to be careful dear," she softly says, brushing a few strands of hair that stuck to the sweat on your forehead, letting her fingers linger against your cheekbones before pulling away.

Someone kindly brings over an ice pack as two members of the other teams join yours, taking your place for the final few minutes.

A hiss leaves your lips as Wanda presses the pack against your skin, shocked by the cold sensation. You catch her eyes when her head lifts to look at you, her green eyes holding an indecipherable glint in them as her gaze lowers to your lips before flickering away so fast you think you imagined the brief glance.

"What time is Natasha picking you up?" she asks, your face showing your confusion as you're unsure of how she knew you didn't bring your car, but you brushed that aside and answered her question.

"She's not," you say, her brows furrowing before another odd look takes over her face. It looked like she was angry at Natasha for something but you couldn't think why. "I'm supposed to be getting the bus," you say with a chuckle, not too sure how well that was going to work now as the bus stop was at least twenty minutes walk away from here.

"You're coming home with me," she says, more demanding that you ride with her.

"What?"

"Oh, come on dear," she lets her fingers move to your hand, resting atop of yours, "It's not like your house is out of the way." You offer a shy smile, not wanting to be an inconvenience but she quickly settles it, deciding that you were going to ride home with her, whether you liked it or not.

***

"Are you sure this is ok?" you ask for what seems like the hundredth time while climbing into her car, grimacing at the pain of stepping in as Wanda lets out a sigh while smiling at the way you fumbled with the seatbelt.

"Yes dear," She softly says, moving your bag to the back seat along with her own, her wedding ring left in her pocket as she puts her watch back on. "I'm just driving home like I normally would," she says to remind you that it's literally no inconvenience at all, "If anything, it's nice to have the company on the drive back." She gets into the driver's seat, checking her mirrors before pausing, looking towards you.

Your gaze is firmly locked on the crowd of people emerging from the glass doors, watching as everyone makes their way back to their own cars.

Wanda can't help but think about how beautiful you look, the way the lights of the car park perfectly highlights your face, the way you subtly bite your lip before turning to her, eyes somewhat a little darker after letting your thoughts drift somewhere a little more sinful.

"Y/n?" Wanda lowly whispers, her gaze flickering down to your lips once more, not hiding it this time as you swallow nervously.

"Yes, Wanda?" your voice trailing off as you're enticed by her eyes, almost put under a spell by her mesmerising stare.

"I have something I want to ask you, but you have to promise never to tell anyone," her body turns in her car seat, her hand moving to brush along your arm, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"I promise," the tone of your voice is almost desperate, eager to know what she wants to ask you.

"Do you swear on your life?" She lets her fingers trail up your arm, moving to your drag along the side of your neck and your jaw before resting on your chin, holding your face to look at her.

"I swear on my life," you whisper, unable to look away from her.

"Would you be interested in having an affair?"

You're snapped out of the little trance she put you under, your mind processing her words. An affair?

You couldn't, could you? No. You loved Natasha.

"What about Natasha?" You say, her hand dropping to your lap, resting against your thigh, "What about Vision? You're husband."

The chuckle that leaves her lips is almost deadly, a predatory look flashing across her face as she smirks at you, her eyes darkening as she looks at your lips once more before flickering her gaze back up.

"They'd never know, Detka," she purrs, staring into your eyes with a look that could get anyone to do as she wishes.

"They... I - I couldn't do that to Natasha," you say but your argument is weak and Wanda knows it.

"You would have said no by now if you couldn't do it Detka," her tone sultrier than before, her fingers moving higher up on your leg.

"I love her," you whisper, trying not to give in to the temptation.

"Do you?" she asks, leaning closer. "If you loved her, why are you considering my offer?" Her mouth ghosted yours, a sinister smirk playing on her lips as she awaited your response.

You were lost for words as she slowly moved closer and closer until her lips practically brushed yours, the sweet taste of her lip gloss teasing you.

"So Detka, what's your answer?" she asks, pulling back marginally to properly look into your eyes, gauging your reaction.

"She'd never find out?" you say, lost in the temptation.

"They'd never find out," she whispers sultrily in response, moving her hand to cup your jaw.

"Yes."

***

Pulling into her drive, Wanda stops the car, looking over to you with a soft look, your gaze following the car that pulls up into your drive, watching Natasha get out of the car and pause when she sees you in Wanda's, a confused look taking over her face. Her lips tug into a smile at the sight of you, sliding her hands into her pockets before leaning against her car, waiting for you to get out.

"Do you need a hand?" Wanda asks as she opens your car door, Natasha puzzled by the action but making no comment until she sees your face scrunch up in pain as you step out of the brunette's vehicle. You take Wanda's hand as she helps you out, the redhead rushing over from her car to make sure everything was alright.

"What's wrong?" her tone cautious as she moves her body to help support you, taking you from Wanda's arms. Natasha's hand cups your face softly as she looks into your tired eyes, the exhaustion from running around catching up to you.

"She fell awkwardly on her ankle," Wanda explains, her tone sharp and blunt as Natasha presses a light kiss to your forehead, the small action making you smile. You notice the switch in hostility towards Natasha from Wanda, not saying anything as you just wanted to lay down somewhere and let sleep take over.

"Oh love," the redhead murmurs, wrapping her arm around you securely while looking at her neighbour, an appreciative glint in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing her home," she thanks the other woman, whose jaw clenches momentarily before letting a fake smile take over her face.

"It was no problem, I just hope her foot feels better soon," she responds, turning her gaze to you, a shiver running down your spine at her intense gaze, her eyes wandering to your lips before flickering back over to your girlfriend. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed now," she moves closer to you, letting her hand rest on your shoulder and squeezing gently, "Goodnight."

Wanda leaves the two of you as Natasha helps you into the house, you chuckling at how overprotective she was being, not wanting you to hurt yourself anymore.

"Nat," you groaned in the crook of her neck when she lifted you up, letting your legs wrap around her waist as she insisted she carried you to bed. "I am capable of walking," you grumble against her skin, the sensation tickling her slightly and causing her to laugh at your tone of voice.

"Mhmm what was that love?" she innocently asks as she continues to walk up the stairs with you in her arms, hands drifting down lower until they rested on your ass. You rolled your eyes at her actions, deciding to let her carry you all the way as it would be a lot easier than trying to fight this very stubborn woman. "There we go," she softly whispers while lowering you onto the bed, your hand clutching the collar of her shirt and pulling her on top of you.

"How was dinner?" you ask, encouraging her to straddle your lap as you laid against the soft mattress, interested in how her evening played out. You also wanted to distract yourself from the little agreement you made with Wanda, knowing that if you focussed on it too much you would start to feel guilty.

"Don't get me started," she groaned, letting her hands play with yours as she happily sat on your lap, the moonlight streaming in from the window illuminating her face perfectly. "I would have much preferred to have stayed home with you," she murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

Your hands drifted down to her lower back while her lips pressed against yours, indulging yourself in the moment as her tongue swept across your bottom lip teasingly before pulling back.

"Oh really?" you mutter while chasing her lips, moving to sit up and snake your arms around her middle, noticing how her eyes seemed to darken ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful," she sighs out in an awestruck tone a little out of the blue, causing a blush to form on your cheeks at the genuine tone of her voice.

You move forwards to claim her lips once more, hands cupping her jaw as you deepened the kiss, wanting to ease the throb that had built between your thighs during your time with Wanda. It was wrong to use Natasha like this, you knew that, but the thrilling feeling that coursed through your veins at the thought of Wanda's deal seemed to take over, unable to get a grip of your moral compass.

The soft moan that left her lips brought you back to reality, her fingers threading through your hair as her kisses moved to trail along your jaw and neck. Your hands swiftly moved to the hem of her shirt moving to pull the item over her head when her lips caught the sensitive part of your neck, a moan spilling from your lips. You tensed when Wanda's name almost spilt from your lips, your thoughts engrossed by the other woman while Natasha's hips softly pressed against you.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, pulling back from the kiss with flushed cheeks and lust filled eyes. Her brows furrowed at your words, unknowing of the true meaning of your apology as you lowered your gaze and avoided her eyes.

"Hey, it's ok," she coos, lifting your chin gently to meet her gaze, "If you want to stop that perfectly fine love, you know that." You just offer her a small, apologetic smile while she takes the hint that you want to stop, kissing your forehead softly before climbing off your lap, laying next to you. "Do you want another ice pack for your foot?" she asks while letting her fingers draw random patterns on your arm, noticing your odd mood and assuming it was due to fatigue and the pain of your ankle.

"No thank you," you whisper back, staring ahead at the ceiling, trying your absolute best to rid Wanda from your thoughts. Fuck, why couldn't you stop thinking about her?

"I'm going to have a quick shower, love, and then get ready for bed," her lips meet your cheek, pressing ever so gently before moving away to retrieve some clothes for herself and one of her old shirts for you to wear to bed, leaving it by your side.

You're grateful that she's left you to your own thoughts but also a little annoyed as you can't clear your mind to think properly, the image of Wanda's lips ghosting your own refusing to fade away.

At the thought of the other woman you sit up once more, turning your head to look out of the window towards her house, blood running cold when you see her standing by her window staring in at you.

You're about to question her strange actions but the sight of her shrugging off her nightgown has you freezing. You watch as her soft skin is exposed, the lace bra from earlier and a matching pair of panties the only thing covering her body as she smirks at your reaction. Your eyes drift down her body, admiring the way her breasts practically spill out of her bra, the curve of her hips and then lower, only just about noticing the darker patch at the front of her panties and groaning to yourself at the thought of how wet she must be.

Her hand draws your attention as she slides it down her body, sliding a finger under the waistband of her panties before pulling out, a teasing smile engraved onto her face at the way you look so captivated by her. Her finger slides under the waistband again, this time her head lolling back a little, her mouth parting as you see her digit move under the fabric, most likely circling her clit.

You move to stand, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up your leg and moving closer to the window, watching as she does the same. Her finger leaves her panties, moving to her mouth as she slides it in, sucking on it and groaning at the taste of her own arousal.

You can't do anything but watch her, your body yearning for her touch as she moves even closer to the window, a wicked smirk on her face. Your brows furrow once more as she winks at you, grabbing the curtains and pulling them shut, a sound of disbelief leaving your lips at her cruel actions.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you drag your curtains shut with a little more force than necessary, the frustration of the incessant throb between your thighs not helping with your unusual mood.

You make your way back to the bed, sliding the sports shorts down your legs and your team shirt over your head quickly before grabbing the shirt Natasha laid out for you, slipping it on. You enjoyed how it went to your mid thighs, covering up your most likely soaked panties as you crawled into bed, waiting for Natasha to join you.

Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, on the cusp of unconsciousness, Natasha's body slid in behind yours, her arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before letting her head rest against her pillow, ready to let sleep take over her as well.

"I love you," she murmurs as you pretend to be asleep, not saying the words back to her and letting silence take over the room.

What have you done?

---

I've had this idea for a while now and thought why not turn it into a mini fic :)

This is darker than what I normally write so I hope it's ok 

I hope you enjoyed ;)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3 I really appreciate them all! 

[porcelana-r0ta]

Oh you're sad that your favorite character is dead???? Well none of my faves are dead bc I have been living in denial (reading fanfic) since 2011. Y'all stay safe tho

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Broken- Natasha Romanoff X Reader

Synopsis: Nat was supposed to go on a simple mission, collect an infinity stone. Easy, right?

Word Count: 408

Warnings: Canonical Character Death (yes that’s a fucking warning), angst/no comfort, it does not get better, be prepared.

A/n: I’d like to think this one isn’t as bad as it might be but I also like to hurt my own feelings so maybe don’t trust me on this one lmao. Sorry guys, this part of a song was stuck in my head and I wanted to write something and this is the result. It’s kinda short but that’s kinda a good thing. Enjoy 😅

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved. Likes, comments, reblogs are always welcomed!

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

You are broken on the floor…

It happened all too soon.

10 seconds.

10 seconds was all she was supposed to be gone.

But now?

She'll be gone for eternity.

She was just supposed to get a stupid rock.

A stupid rock for the sake of the universe. And for what? What's the point? Your everything is gone. Just like that.

Clint came back silent, something was deeply haunting him. It was clear to everyone.

You could hear Bruce ask him something but you weren't listening to know what was said.

You didn't need to. You knew already.

In less time than what she was supposed to be gone, you lost all of yourself. A deep emptiness overtakes you, but not without its companions of dread and pain.

A silent 'no' came from your lips as you collapsed.

And you're crying, crying...

The word you wanted to say would've come from your lips if the sobs didn't steal the last breath from your lungs.

The pure agony it was, breathing...

You couldn't fathom it.

Everyone on the team surrounded you, taken aback by your sudden lack of composure.

You were known to be the most composed on the team. Never showing true, real emotions, not that you couldn't but rather you chose not to let them see.

The only one that got the privy of seeing the real you was gone.

You are broken on the floor...

Everything was entirely irrelevant now, nothing mattered anymore.

You couldn't care less about the mission at hand, it was fruitless now.

Your hands clawed at the suddenly claustrophobic uniform you were wearing, dying for it to be off.

Everyone stood dumbfounded at what to do. They knew there was nothing that could be said.

Only once you were able to take a breath in did you finally move, hunching over yourself as sound finally came from you.

Only it was the sound of your inconsolable, borderline anguished cries.

How to carry on...?

Only once Clint and Rocket tried to get you to sit up did you speak real words...

"NO! No! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Your palms hit Clint in the chest, with no effect due to you losing all of your energy. "We were supposed to have forever!"

You simply collapsed into him, not knowing what else there is for you to possibly do.

"She was my forever..."

Numbness overtook you.

You no longer wanted to live, after all, what was there to live for?

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

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As always, leave a comment if you’d like to join my tag list 🥰

[lesbianpizza]

I’M GOING TO NEED 3-5 BUSINESS DAYS TO PROCESS THIS ABSOLUTE SLAY

The hair?? The dress?? The shoes?? The jewelry??

AND she’s gonna be at the Oscars tomorrow??? Oh we are getting FED

[miloscozycorner]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 ☀︎︎

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

My ask box is also open for chatting and pals.

Feel free to check out these other blogs, if you so wish:

• @cozy-cg: Caregiving blog for age regression, as I am a caregiver in the community.

• @cozy-milo: Main blog where I post silly rambles and reblogs for my interests

❥ 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

• MCU

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𝐈 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 ☁︎︎

• I only write x reader!

• I can write for a romantic connection, caregiving, platonic, or a family (the characters as a mother, sister, etc). Just specify which one.

• I will write for multiple characters in one relationship.

• I will write for any genre except smut or any dark concepts, as I am a minor. My favorites are angst, and also fluff related to age regression.

• I write for male and female characters, but I hold the right to deny writing for a character if I don’t want to.

• Do not rush me. I aim to finish requests in a weeks time, but I am juggling school and work, along with holding a social life.

• I will write blurbs, headcanons, drabbles and also full fics (I define this as a 1000+ word count.)

• I will not write for anything outside of my fandom list.

🜚 updated sept. 24.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

You Cannot Run From Your Past

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. a/n:this is a mafia au! so there will be a LOT of violence, MINORS DNI, this is part one of the series, the rest will be linked once posted warnings:mentions of wounds, blood, murder, gore, smut(MAJOR smut) word count:4.5k

Everyone knew who the 141 were, some of the most feared men on this side of the Atlantic. No one with even a single braincell knew to fuck with them. Their leader, Price, had killed men for less than what you were currently kneeling for. You’d gotten caught trying to steal money from one of the henchmen. Your boyfriend had kicked you out of the apartment, after finding out he’d been cheating of course, and now you were homeless. It was either steal from the, what you assumed was dumb, henchman or go hungry for another week until someone took pity on you. So here you were, kneeling before a man who wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet between your brows.

“Did you really think he wouldn’t notice?” Price was more annoyed than truly angry, he felt some sort of sympathy towards you.

“I thought if I was quick enough he wouldn’t, no.” You were ashamed to admit you thought you could get away with your plan.

“Why were you trying to pickpocket anyway?” Price sat on the edge of his desk, staring down at you.

“Boyfriend, ex boyfriend, kicked me out and I’ve been living on the street for the last couple of months. Got desperate if I’m gonna be honest.” You hadn’t lived in England that long, having moved over from Massachusetts earlier in the year to live with your boyfriend.

God you had felt like such a moron, he’d lured you over with the promise of being able to take care of you, only to dump you out onto the street like trash. Of course he’d at least given the courtesy of telling you about Price and his men first, and yet here you were.

“Soap, take her and get her something to eat, I want to have a chat with the ex.” Your brow furrowed, why the hell did he want to talk with Eric anyway?

A man walked over, the strip of hair down the middle of his skull was slicked down yet looked almost fluffy. He helped you up gently, taking you down to the kitchen where a chef was cooking up something delicious. Your stomach grumbled loudly, leaving you embarrassed as everyone’s heads turned to stare at you. It really had been too long since you’d had a decent meal, not counting the scraps that the cook had given you a few days ago.

“Have a seat lass, eat as much as you’d like.” His voice wasn’t condescending and that you were grateful for, people could be so cruel to the homeless.

The chef dished up a heaping plate of what looked like spaghetti bolognese, the scent of roasted garlic and tomato filled the air. Your mouth was salivating within seconds, but before you could pull the plate closer the chef was sliding a heft piece of cheesy garlic bread on top. Oh my, you had definitely died and gone to heaven if this was going to be the case. You picked up your fork and slid the plate closer. The steam rising from the sauce caused a slight bead of sweat to rise along your browline. You couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away as you dug in, knowing better than to eat as fast as you could lest you get sick.

The flavours burst over your tongue like fireworks, this was definitely the best bowl of pasta you’d ever eaten. You swallowed the forkful you’d just eaten before biting into the garlic bread, nearly moaning at the salty bite of the cheese. This was how Price got to eat on the daily? God you would give anything just to eat like this at least once a month. Half the plate was gone before you came up for a breath, wiping your mouth with the napkin Soap had left by you.

“Would you like some water?” The chef was holding out a glass, his hands now clean that you noticed.

“Oh thank you so much.” You took the glass grateful, gulping down the water until there was nothing left.

You set the glass down next to your napkin, digging in once more to the amazing pasta. Maybe he was letting you eat one final meal before he killed you, there were worse ways to go. At this rate you weren’t going to complain, not since this was the first decent meal you’d had in forever. On the other side of town, you were completely unaware that Price had located your ex Eric and was paying him a personal visit.

Knuckles collided with the skin on his cheek, blood pouring from the wound opened by the ring on Price’s pinky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eric could barely lift his head, words slurred as his vision blurred.

“Do you really think I’m that naive? You worked for me, and yet your little friend is trying to steal from one of my men to get herself some food.” Price was beyond enraged, Eric was one of the lower henchmen, someone to clean up his dirty work mainly.

“Fuck, she’s still alive?” Eric screamed in pain as a blade dug into the skin and muscle of his shoulder.

Simon was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Price take care of a mistake he’d made. Though no one but Soap, Gaz, and Price were ever allowed to call him Simon, most people who bore witness to him as Ghost. He was the silent killer, slipping into someone’s apartment with ease and slipping out without leaving a trace behind. He’d had nearly as big a reputation as Price himself, for different reasons of course.

“Yes, she’s still alive, however since I’ve come to find out you’ve been stealing money from me you won’t be around to see any of it.” Eric’s eyes widened in fear, lips parted to beg and plea as Price pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was partially muffled, no one would call the police until Price and Simon had fled the scene, giving him ample time to make it home with an alibi. He began to wonder how you were doing, had you been able to eat and take a shower? Maybe you took a bath and soaked in one of the large tubs he had. It was the least he could do, the only thing Price never did was murder women or children, it was against his code. He’d heard about someone else who took anyone down that crossed their path, he refused to be like that.

Goddamn American’s.

“Make sure all our fingerprints are gone before tonight.” Price didn’t wait to see if Simon listened or not before heading down to his car. 

His driver was waiting behind the wheel, nodding when Price muttered the word ‘home’. He hadn’t planned on getting messy today, but sometimes things happened that he couldn’t control. It would be less paperwork in the long run, he’d just transfer the money from Eric’s account to one for you. Maybe he could get Kyle to do it, he’d been itching to do something for the last few weeks anyhow.

“We’ve arrived sir.” Alex pulled the car into the garage, knowing better than to open the door for Price.

“Thank you, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? If I need your assistance I’ll call.” Price slipped out of the back of the car and headed inside to look for you.

The sound of two people arguing caught his attention, he could make out Soap’s voice right away, but the other wasn’t one he was quite familiar with. As he turned the corner the picture before him nearly had him laughing. You were standing across from Soap, freshly showered in what looked to be a pair of Soap’s pajamas, arguing about desserts.

“Brownies are clearly the superior choice! You just have horrible taste!” Soap scoffed, rolling his eyes at your bratty attitude.

“Tha’s a lie!” Soap was ready to argue his point on why the chocolate chip cookies were better.

“That’s because you have horrible taste! Even the chef agrees the brownies were better.” You refused to back down, ignoring the way Soap’s chest was heaving.

Price had stopped in the doorway, snickering at the way the two of you were acting like complete children. It was a nice change of pace, and with how his night had gone it was a pleasant surprise to come back to.

“You’re back! I just wanted you to know that your chef is amazing and makes some of the best bolognese I’ve ever had before.” Your stomach was still full, slightly aching with everything you’d eaten.

“Glad to know the food was up to your standards, you settling in alright?” Price kept his hands hidden, knowing his knuckles were bloody and bruised.

“I am, I honestly don’t even know how to thank you for everything.” You were afraid he would still kill you, especially since you’d spent the last hour arguing with his henchman Soap.

He brushed you off, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry about repaying him right then, he could find a way for you to work for him if needed. Maybe you could do the finances, it was an easy enough job for you to do, it would keep you housed and fed as well. You were quite attractive as well, he could take you to any fancy party as his arm candy.

“How well are you with money?” It sounded like such an odd question.

“I worked in finance in the US, so I’m decent.” You didn’t want to say who your employer used to be, lest it cost your life.

“Perfect, you’ll work for me, if that’s alright.” Price raised a brow questioningly.

Your jaw dropped open, nodding quickly to confirm that yes, you would absolutely be alright working for him. It would get you off the streets at least, though working for someone so dangerous was nothing new to you. Maybe you could get an apartment nearby, something that wasn’t infested with termites like your ex's place.

“We’ll get you started tomorrow, the first matter of business is taking you shopping so you can look presentable for meetings.” Wait, you weren’t going to have to be around him 24/7, were you?

“I’m sorry sir, I’d be going to meetings with you?” For some reason the thought unnerved you, what if things backfired and you ended up dead this time?

“Yes, is that going to be a problem?” Price turned to face you, brow raised slightly.

“No, not at all sir.” It was time to keep your mouth shut and do whatever was told, Price was a very dangerous man.

You only had a couple minutes to prepare before Price, along with Soap, were dragging you out to one of the many cars that sat in his garage. Soap would be driving wherever you wanted to go, money not an issue to make sure you would look flawless. Designers were a waste of money, sure having the logo would make heads turn, but thousands for a piece of cloth? Ridiculous.

Price insisted you buy things that at least looked professional, since you seemed to be so against letting him purchase things for you. Soap even tried to interject and get you to agree with Price’s demands, saying it was better not to argue. You wanted to stand your ground and refuse, until you caught sight of a gorgeous dress. There’d be no reason to wear it, but by god did you need to have it at that moment. So you relinquished and gave permission to price to choose things for you, as long as you could get that dress.

He agreed happily, choosing things and letting you find your size so as not to make you uncomfortable. It was nice, knowing that you would be able to get all these new clothes without the stipulation you would need to sleep with him. Your ex would constantly hold gifts and such over your head so you would sleep with him. And yet he’d still had the nerve to cheat and throw you out.

“Awfully quiet sweetheart.” Price turned his head to face you, noticing the way your brow had furrowed.

“Just thinking about the past is all.” You merely shrugged, there was no use in being upset over things you couldn’t change, but it still stung.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about it?” Price had turned to face you fully, attention focused on everything you had to say.

The words turned to ash in your mouth, could you tell him the truth about the type of person you were? How you’d helped someone murder so many innocent people that dared cross his path just by simply existing?

“Do you want the basic rundown, or all the nitty gritty?” You had only ever told one person about your childhood, you’d hoped to never run into him again.

“Everything, spare no detail.” Oh, well this was going to be a long day.

The words slipped out with ease, telling Price everything, from how your father was physically abusive, to how your mother tried to use you for her own benefit. You had run away at fifteen, working odd jobs before you met your old boss at eighteen. He kept you housed, fed, and clothed from when you turned eighteen to a few months shy of when you left entirely. You’d seen things most people who’d gone off to war never dealt with. It was a horrible reminder of how much you’d had to give up just to survive.

“You worked for someone else, someone important..who.” Though it was a question, Price knew exactly who you’d worked for.

“James Barnes, sir.” Your heart was racing, no one except for James, and his right hand woman, Natasha, knew about you.

Price’s expression darkened, causing your heart rate to spike suddenly as you realized how badly you’d fucked up. Would this be the end for you? Having admitted to working for what was essentially his rival?

“How long?” Price could use any information you had on the other man, especially if it meant getting ahead.

“Over ten years, took me in when I was barely eighteen.” It was the truth, you’d basically grown up alongside James.

“And you don’t by any chance know some things that could be useful to me?” It was a loaded question, do you tell him how James had a son he cared so much about. Or how his best friend for over twenty years had cut off all contact after he’d heard of what became of him?

“I’ll tell you everything over dinner.” It was a proposition. You give him information, he gives you anything you could ever ask for.

Soap smirked to himself, pulling down the long road that led to Price’s luxurious home. You would fit in quite nicely with everyone.

Price had everything brought to your room, the closets stuffed full of all your new clothes, shoes, and even the few accessories you picked out. It was nice, knowing you were going to be alright as long as you didn’t step on anyone’s toes. As you made your way down to the kitchen you noticed someone else talking to Price. He was big, arms large enough to crush your skull(though you’d probably thank him). Something about him seemed so familiar though, as if you’d run into him many times before.

“Ready to eat?” Price turned away from the stranger, gesturing to the expansive table.

“I am, thank you so much for all of this, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”  You walked over and sat down, if the food was even half as good that lunch was, you would die happy.

Soap and another man you’d never met before walked into the kitchen, taking their own seats alongside the newcomer. The chef brought out the first course, a delicate butternut squash soup with crusty pieces of bread to dop. You nearly moaned at how silky the soup was, making sure not to slurp and disturb anyone else. The bread had a slight bite to it, the crust just hard enough to soak in the buttery goodness without becoming soggy.

“So, what can you tell me?” Price had finished his soup, sipping on the glass of bourbon that had been brought out along with his food.

“James is someone that’s highly feared in most of the states, word spreads like wildfire and they’re all too afraid to say anything bad about him.” You took another bite of the bread, taking a moment to collect your emotions.

“His best friend Steve hasn’t spoken to him since they were teens, he’d found out about James joining the mafia and just disappeared one day.” You’d witnessed the way Steve had torn the other man apart, it was gut wrenching to watch.

You felt bad for James at that moment, he no longer had his family, and now the one person he could rely on was gone as well. Natasha was the closest thing he had to family anymore, and last you knew they were still friends. 

“He has a son, named after himself of course, goes by JJ. Last I knew his son was nearly thirteen and was living solely with his dad.” You sighed softly, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

“Surprised he had the time to knock someone up.” Soap mumbled into his food, ignoring everything else entirely.

“Johnny, what did we talk about?” Price stared at the other man like a disappointed father.

“No talking shit at dinner.” Soap, or was it Johnny?

You tried to hide your smile, a soft giggle slipping through as you finished your bowl of soup. Soap looked affronted, how dare you laugh at him being scolded by Price as if he was a child, very uncool.

“Before we continue with our conversation, I’d like to introduce Gaz, and Simon.” Price gestured to the two men sitting across from you.

You were shocked that someone as stunning as Gaz was working for him and not as a runway model, he could bring people to tears with his beauty. Simon wasn’t glaring at you per se, more like he was trying to decipher you. There was something about him that made you want to stare back, but you thought better of it and focused your attention back onto Price.

“Nice to meet you both, I met Soap earlier and his horrible taste in snacks.” Gaz couldn’t help but laugh at your statement.

“Thank you! He’s always had the worst taste imaginable.” Gaz was definitely going to become a good friend, you could sense it.

“Shut up!” Soap threw his hands up, arms crossing over his chest with a huff.

“You do mate, it’s all out of love.” Gaz slapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing when Soap rolled his eyes.

The chef brought out the entree before anymore conversation could continue, a beautifully seared filet mignon with roasted fingerling potatoes and caramelized carrots. You wanted to dig in almost instantly, waiting until everyone had their plates before slicing into the meat. It melted like butter on your tongue, washing over your taste buds as if it were made by god himself. 

“Alright, as I was saying earlier about James. He’s a very paranoid man, comes with the territory when you’ve slaughtered as many people as he has. So unless you have a reason to do business with him you won’t be able to get close. I’ve watched him murder a man for less before, and that’s the last thing I want to see ever again.” You cut apart one of the potatoes, popping the half into your mouth.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I need to take care of him, we need someone on the inside.” Price had a point, but James would see it coming a million miles away.

“Partially, but James would see that coming a mile away. You want someone he’s close with, a loved one, or a best friend that knows his every move and can get you the information.” You kept your eyes on your plate, not noticing the way all eyes were suddenly on you.

“And, do you know someone that could do this?” Price was asking something dangerous, sure you knew plenty of people that could, and had reason to kill James, but none of them were willing.

“The only man that would ever want to take him out would be Tony Stark, man’s had it out for him since he found out James had his parents murdered.” It had been the final straw that sent you packing.

“Hmm, I’ll have to give him a look see later.” Price dug into his own food, ignoring the way Simon seemed to still be staring at you.

“He’s a dangerous man, nearly had me killed just for walking on his property one day.” You rolled your eyes, stabbing your potato with more force than necessary.

Simon raised a brow, watching how you seemed to become annoyed at even mentioning Tony’s name. Whoever this man was clearly had a vendetta against you, and you as well for him.  That’s how this type of world worked, you were either with or against the people you considered the villains. You seemed to fit in so well that Simon couldn’t be bothered to second guess any of it, not when Price welcomed you in with open arms.

“Have to be precautious, comes with the territory darling.” Price merely shrugged, he’d always kept one eye open no matter what, but some people were just paranoid.

“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t make my life any easier when I was trying to get out of New York though, I swear James has men everywhere.” You’d almost been caught twice before finally boarding the plane to safety.

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. This was definitely a dream, you were going to wake up in the morning and find yourself under that bridge with everyone else. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this dream only to wake up to reality. Though it usually landed you back in the US and not over in London.

“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me, goodnight.” Price nodded towards everyone before leaving the table.

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to head to bed or not, after the day you’d had your body was begging for sleep. Soap’s clothes, while a little oversized, were definitely going to be comfortable enough to sleep in. Gaz immediately pulled Soap into a conversation, discussing something that sounded like an entirely different language to you at that moment. You gave Simon a quick nod before leaving the table and heading up to your new room. The only light was from the moon, illuminating the room in a soft ethereal glow.

Throwing back the covers on the mattress you crawled into the plush bed, groaning softly at how soft the comforter was. It felt as if you were laying on a cloud, even with the crisp air the blankets were just warm enough to keep you comfortable. Your eyes slipped closed before you could even try and fight them, slipping into dreamland.

Downstairs Soap, Gaz, and Simon were all sitting around the table. Soap had tried to pull Simon into the conversation only to be shot down immediately. Simon couldn’t explain it, but something about you drew him in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way, always pushing away the prospect of dating as if it was a deadly disease. Soap would catch on to his sudden fixation on you, man was like a bloodhound when it came to women. The very last thing that Simon wanted, or needed, was Soap getting on his ass about you. He couldn’t get a proper read on you, there was something you weren’t telling everyone. And Simon was determined to find out every tiny thing.

Meanwhile in New York

James was angry, nearly panting as he paced the foyer of his penthouse. How the hell had you managed to slip through his fingers so easily? He’d had eyes on you for so long, and yet you’d managed to get to fucking England. Natasha had been the one to break the news to him, stance stoic as the words sunk into his bones. You were gone, and now there was a high chance that you’d managed to get yourself killed. James knew all about Price and his little minions, the fucker was slowly taking control of more countries.

“We need to locate her, now.” James kept his back to Natasha, the only person he ever trusted.

“I’ve reached out to my informants, they’re scouring every nook and cranny to find her. Last we knew her boyfriend was killed.” Shit, if they’d gotten to someone you were dating, you were definitely next.

“You mean that little shit convinced her to leave, and someone got to him before me?” James’ tone was deadly, venom lacing each word.

“It appears so, they’re claiming his death was a suicide, but the autopsy showed facial wounds caused by something small but sharp.” Natasha had seen the photos, it was pretty clear what had caused the superficial wounds.

He sighed softly, stepping away from the floor to ceiling windows to fully face Natasha who was watching him closely. James was the type of man to take out anyone that stood in his way of something he wanted. She could never figure out why James seemed to be so infatuated with you when you’d never shown any interest. You were friendly with him of course, but there had never been romantic feelings. Had he been trying to replace Steve’s friendship with you? It was the only thing that made any sense.

“Why don’t we make a quick little trip across the pond, there’s some people I’ve needed to visit anyway.” James smirked, reaching up to slick back his hair gently.

“I’ll call Scott and make sure the plane is ready in the morning.” Natasha turned away from him, pulling out her phone to make a quick call.

Who in the world did James know that lived over in England? The last she’d heard about that was when she’d had someone killed in their apartment for stealing money. Her phone pinged with a new message, a name she’d never expected to see again flashing before her.

Steve Rogers: We need to talk.

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: day 7 - Radio Silence

Warnings: character death

Word Count: 1.9k (gif not mine)

Summary: Tony can find anyone, unless they really don’t want to be found, or they can’t be.

A/N: (character death pertains to none of the core team or associated, but to me feels just as tragic. There was no other way this could go.)

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2013

NEW YORK

Tony sits staring at the computer. There’s a video recording of his friend in police interrogation, being accused of killing a man.

He watches closely and still can’t work out how he gets out of hand cuffs, but the most interesting part of the interrogation is when Agent Coulson arrives.

Tony watches in interest as Clint all but ignores the offer to join Shield and stalks off.

He’s so young.

Not that Clint is an old man now, but he just looks so small as a teenager, maybe early twenties. Likely by the stamp date he should know how old.

The video recording stops, and Tony turns to the next one.

Clint is older. It’s obvious by his demeanor and posture.

More like a military man.

Tony doesn’t like it.

He seems sadder, more serious and adult even though there’s only a year between videos.

He wonders what happened after that first one, because clearly something did.

Turning them off, he returns to the picture of Barney.

Steve had done a good job, given Clint’s description, and the picture had bounced across databases.

There had been exactly three hits.

One police record.

One military record.

And one picture he found out in Wichita Falls with a man matching his description as a drivers license.

It meant one of two things.

Barney was dead.

Or…

Barney really didn’t want to be found.

.

Natasha finds Pepper sitting at the window.

The expanse of it, makes it ones of Natasha’s favourite places.

She knows it’s one of Pepper’s as well.

They’d had many conversations at it, and she almost walks away as she sees Pepper reading.

Sometimes peace is hard won, especially for Pepper who seems to always be pulled in a thousand directions.

“Hey,” Pepper greets her and Natasha nods in responses

Apart from Maria, Pepper lends herself to be one of Natasha’s closest friends, even though she’s sure the red head does not feel the same.

It’s okay though, Natasha never feels like she expects the relationships to be equal.

“You look deep in thought,” Pepper comments, moving over and placing her book away.

Natasha sits as offered; and thinks for a moment.

She sought her out, and now… she wasn’t sure.

But who else to have this conversation with?

“I. Clint and I,” she starts, “we want to get married.”

Peppers face morphs into one of sheer delight and happiness, and she hugs her spontaneously.

“Nat! That’s great news. Seriously? And you said yes? And he asked?”

Pepper smiles, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

Natasha sits, just far enough away, so that she doesn’t get another hug.

“Yeah, he asked, and I said yes, but we have to do some things before we can, you know.”

“Tie the knot?” Pepper supplies.

Natasha cocks her head.

“What?”

Pepper laughs.

“Sorry, euphemism for getting married. Continue, forget I said anything.”

Natasha nods.

“What’s the conditions?”

“Family,” Natasha says quietly.

“I have a sister, and Clint has a brother,” she confesses.

“Oh, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“We want to see if we can find them,” she says quietly, “maybe they can come.”

Pepper seems to understand, her quietness gentle as Natasha looks up.

“Where are they?”

Shrugging again, Natasha finds herself wanting to talk about Yelena. It seems safe here, and she rarely allows herself the luxury.

“Do you think people can be forgiven?”

The question is cryptic, deliberately so.

Pepper doesn’t answer.

“Do you think that there are things that are unforgivable?”

Unsure how to answer, she waits for Natasha to elaborate.

It’s a safe bet.

In the silence, Natasha tells her a story; a story of two girls in a strange land, learning how to be Americans. That she, in all her grief had made herself forget, forget the time they spent with each other, to make it through, lest it be held against her.

Pepper is sure she’s leaving out details.

But when she takes her hand and assures her that survival demands something else of people, Natasha looks grateful for the words.

“She’s alive,” Natasha says as though it’s the first time she’s allowed herself to say the words out loud.

“I just want to help her,” she whispers.

Pepper’s eyes well at the confession.

“Do you know where she is?”

Natasha shakes her head, hands in her lap.

“She’s alive though.”

“What about Clint’s brother?”

“We don’t know.”

Pepper frowns and bites her lip.

“Nat, you do realise you’ve set yourself an impossible task, or set of tasks?”

“Why?”

“You don’t know if they’re alive, let alone how to find them, and well, what if you can’t? Does that mean you can’t follow your own path? Get married?”

Natasha doesn’t answer.

“Tony’s looking for them, if he can’t find them, we’ll make a different plan,” she pauses.

“It is my path though, to find her, and for Clint to find him. Now anyway; and after the last year, there’s no time like the present, and if they can be; I want them to be there.”

She looks to Pepper.

“And you too, if you’ll come.”

Pepper grins and nods.

“I’ll be there, and I’ll help too, in anyway I can.”

They both look out the window, Natasha unsure what to say. They both know though, that if Tony can’t find them; no one can.

.

Tony finds him in the gym, he watches as he punches the speed ball, his agility his friend displays is mesmerizing.

The rattatatta of the bag is repetitive and Tony tries to wait with the information he’s holding.

“Clint?” he calls.

Nothing.

“Clint? Can you hear me?”

The speed ball stops and Clint turns around.

An easy smile greets him.

“News?” he asks, grabbing a water bottle.

There’s blood on his hand wraps.

Tony wonders just how long Clint has been punching the bag for.

He holds up the folder.

“Depending on how you look at it.”

Clint sits and opens the file.

Disappointment passes over his face, hope fading, as there’s no clear location.

“You couldn’t find him?”

Tony knows when to admit defeat. There was no leads no matter how much he searched over the last four days.

“I can’t find him, but I have a last known location, somewhere I think he was.”

Clint doesn’t say anything.

“Clint?”

Tony feels he knows. He’d had hope and now it was fading.

“Where is it?”

Clint asks.

“Wichita Falls,” Tony laughs. “A town that has many people and none at all.”

Clint nods, “yeah he would go there, he’d be invisible but there’s enough space for him to do his own thing.”

Tony points to the picture he found, and Steve’s sketch.

Clint is silent, deep in thought.

“Are you going to go?” Tony asks.

“How can I not?” Clint replies.

“The world almost ends, and I don’t know if my brother is dead or alive. Maybe it’s about time I go see if I can find him.”

Tony sees the serious soldier, and it’s at odds of his friend the joking archer.

Whatever this is for Clint, it changes him.

“I can go with you?”

Tony offers it, trying to add conviction. He knows it’s not his place.

Clint looks through the pages again, almost desperate. Tony wishes there were more.

“No, I think, it’ll be okay, Nat will be there, we can.. We got this,” Clint replies, scattered as he gathers the pages.

He looks up, face serious and guarded.

“Thanks Tony, for all of this.”

He stands.

“Any news on Yelena?”

Tony shakes his head.

“That’s going to take me a bit longer I think, there’s a server that keeps making the information bounce. I’ll catch it though, and maybe when you’re back, I’ll have more information.”

Clint nods.

“Our plane is fueled up and ready to go, you can fly right?”

The generosity isn’t lost on Clint, and he stares at his friend, he’s lent him a plane and called it “ours”.

“Why?”

Tony shrugs.

“It’s what I’d want someone to do for me, I guess.”

Clint holds his hand out to shake Tony’s and when Tony clasps it, he pulls him into a hug.

“Thanks, man,” he whispers.

It takes Tony a second, but he hugs him back

“Uh, no problem.”

.

2013

WICHITA FALLS

Clint sits pilot seat, staring as the plane is moved into the hanger.

Natasha hands him a water and they sit in a comfortable silence.

“Do we have somewhere to stay?” she asks finally.

Clint takes a second.

“Barney used to sneak candy into the house to give to me when I couldn’t stop crying. He’d tell me to suck on it because it would stop my sobbing.”

He pauses.

“My sobbing would aggravate my father to follow me and tell me he’d give me something to cry about. I grew up with Barney, and loved him, and then we just… never saw each other again.”

He stares, and bites hard on his lip.

Natasha watches, as she’s so good at doing.

“What if his radio silence was better for the both of us? Together we were chaos. Alone; maybe we had more of a chance. Do you think he knew that?”

He doesn’t wait for Natasha to answer rhetorical questions.

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t come back for me.”

Natasha feels the stab.

“Maybe he just couldn’t,” she responds, slightly defensive.

He softens, feeling the blow he’s landed on her.

“Yeah, maybe he just couldn’t.”

.

There’s a small pub out on the edge of town.

It turns out they knew Barney.

The bartender is an older, wisened man whose beard is as long as his arms.

Natasha stands back, as Clint asks the question, and they both hold their breath.

“Why do you want to know about Barney?” the man asks, suspiciously.

Clint swallows.

“He’s my brother,” he responds.

The man softens.

“Oh.”

He stops wiping the bar.

“You’re Clint?”

The man talks of Barney as a friend, and throws the keys to a woman, Natasha assumes to be his wife.

“I’ll be back,” he tells her.

He takes them on a walk to a small apartment on the outskirts of town, he has sadness in his eyes, and he tells him Barney was here. That this, the little apartment on the first floor, was where he lived.

“We served together,” the man tells him, “I convinced him to come here… some difficulties with memory, some impulse issues… he needed someone to watch his back, until… you know.”

Up until his death.

A quiet death, and a loud life.

He tells them stories of Barney’s ability to drink anyone under the table, and laughs as he reminisces on how they stayed up one night and just threw darts.

“I lost so much money that night, did you know he had good aim?”

Clint swallows and nods, trying to take on the information.

His brother.

He wasn’t a good man, but he wasn’t a bad one.

Bachelor for life and a contradiction at that - someone who spent all his time gambling and smoking; but also taught basic martial arts to kids at the local YMCA.

No children. No partner.

But a legacy all the same.

There are no words for panic and grief Clint feels.

His brother.

His protector.

It’s too late.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

[blueandbetaraptors]

Got this idea from someone, I tagged them at the bottom of the story, thanks for letting me write it!

It was a bright and sunny afternoon. Ned and Peter were walking back from school to the tower. Peter was sharing his personal experience from when the vulture tried to kill him.

“I tell you Ned, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared, at first I thought he was just trying to hit me with his metal wings. I joked that he missed. Then he gave me this evil look and was like “I just needed to distract you” and I see him grab his wing hoverboard thingy and he shot off and the ceiling started to collapse!”

“Wow dude, that’s freaky. I mean, you probably would have been less stuck if Mr.Stark hadn’t taken your suit.”

“Yea but I don’t really wanna tell him, cause then I’m worried I’ll make him feel bad.” Pete said as they walked into the front doors.

“How did you get out?”

“Well I cried, I was definitely panicked, but I forced myself to push the rubble off my back and crawl out… and that’s how I almost died!

“excuse me?” Tony said, he suddenly stops his conversation with Steve and Bruce.

Pete and Ned stop in their tracts when they suddenly see Tony, Steve and Bruce gathered around the elevators when Tony caught the tail end of the conversation.

“who and where?” Steve adds, makeing himself look tall, a face of a man who wants justice served.

Bruce looks at Peter, “No one’s going to get away with that one, need me to send the other guy?” A hint of green starts to show on his neck.

Suddenly a large sound comes from up above as Clint comes down from the vents,” I can take care of them.” As he lands on his feet.

Suddenly Peter and Ned are in front of 4 of the avengers, all who look bent on stopping the person that apparently almost killed Peter.

“oh, hey guys, i was just telling Ned about the time a building fell on me. It’s all good now. Yall don’t have to do anything.” Peter, confused responded as he rubbed the back of his neck, Ned by his side, his mouth slightly agape like a fish.

“ Yup! Buts it’s cool now. Like Peter said.” Ned recovers and tries to help Pete calm the avengers down.

Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Clint, “WHAT?” The foursome yell in unison

“Fri- get me info on this!”

“Are you hurt”

“When did this happen.”

“Son, who did this to you?”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone.”

“Language!”

“Shut it Steve”

Suddenly Peter is getting overwhelmed by all the talking that Ned grabs him and pulls him away while the avengers start talking over each other not realizing that Peter and Ned left to go upstairs. However, Nat stops them.

“Ok, I heard the commotion. Something about you almost dying, someone not telling us that a building nearly crushed them… care to explain?” She folds her arms, giving a ‘don’t try to fake it’ expression.

“It’s not a big deal now Nat. I found the guys who were stealing the alien weapons and I tried to call Mr.Stark but he was busy with the move, but I didn’t have my suit cause Mr.Stark told me I don’t need it if I’m gonna be reckless. Well I found out it was Liz’s dad and I went to confront him and he was talking he was just buying time for his wing thing to come and get him loose and then he circled around me, I thought he missed but he was just going for the support systems and he got away right as the building collapsed on me.. a..and I was scared but I know I had to be strong and I survived.” Pete kinda said it in a rush, and then realized that the whole team, was listening in.

Peter watched as expressions turn from concern and anger to solemn, and even some guilt faces, Clint literally punches Tony’s arm.

“Hey! What was that for Legolas?” Tony asks as he rubs his arm.

“That’s for almost getting Peter killed by taking his suit.”

“Guys seriously, it’s not a big deal, i survived and I learned from my mistakes.” Pete tried to explain, trying to calm the nerves of everyone.

“Peter, gosh, this world is too good for you. Look, I was wrong for taking your suit, just with what happened with the ferry, i thought you were getting to gun ho and I needed to slow yourself before you killed yourself.” Tony signed and ran his hand through his head.

After sitting down and the avengers learning more of Peter’s experience with the vulture, they all gained a new respect for their teammate and also thanked Ned for helping him.

@irondadspiderson4evr

[natasharswifey]

The end of us

Summary: What if it was Natasha and Yelena at vormir?

____☆____

A/N: Sorry!

Tags: Major character death, Soft Natasha, soft Yelena, both of them need a hug, mentioned Kate Bishop, Grief

W/C: 1, 845

Link to fic on Ao3

“Why don’t you ever call me for normal things? Like to help you move or come over for thanksgiving.” Yelena questions Natasha, half ranting to the red-haired woman and half to herself. Rambling when anxious was a habit Yelena soon picked up once again after being liberated, something she hadn’t exhibited since the age of six.

“We aren’t normal. Plus its October.”

Yelena huffs and Natasha turns her focus back to the controls. The pair have only been reunited for a short time especially compared to the time they were apart.

Yelena had imagined the day she saw her older sister again she would whisk her away and they would live away from everyone else, just the two of them against the world again like Ohio.

Things didn’t go exactly as planned. ‘Life got in the way’ as Natasha liked to put it, but with Yelena still freeing other Widows from subjugation and Natasha having to go deal with ‘Avenger stuff’, life really did get in the way.

But, no matter the circumstances, they were together again and that was all that truly mattered.

“Brace yourself, we’re gonna get some turbulence.”

“But we’re in space???” Yelena replies, the words coming out of her mouth of all people still leaving an odd feeling in her stomach.

“Yep.” Natasha’s attention is once again tuned in to manuvering the ship past obstacles. She definitely wasn’t fully qualified for this, but things were getting desperate and even more personal.

Melina was never really Natasha and Yelena’s mother. But neither could wipe away the warmth of her smile throughout the small patch of joy in their childhoods and felt an obligation- instict even- to do anything to get her back as well as the rest of those taken in the blip.

Plus with Melina now gone Alexei was drunk a lot more frequently if that was even possible, although the assassins wouldn’t mind quite as much if he drank himself to an early grave.

Then there was Kate Bishop, the naive archer Yelena had befriended not long ago. She wasn't so great at the superhero thing yet- or home security despite her job- but she was her favourite person to spend time with, other than Natasha of course.

“So, how’s everything going with you, huh?” Natasha asks. Despite them both agreeing their occupations were both very time consuming she still felt guilty for not spening enough time with her little sister. The only good thing the blip had done was brought them closer.

“There’s always Widows that need freeing, but we’re getting closer." She responds vaguely.

"You sure that's it? No secret double life I should know about?" She jokes, but both of them know what she's actually hinting at.

"Nope." She shifts in her seat and she knows Natasha notices, but doesn't say anything.

Ever since Clint made that stupid joke about her and Kate practically sharing an apartment her sister had been gently encouraging her to admit her feelings. The only problem was she didn't have any. No matter how hard she tried.

A silence fills the air and Yelena decides to replace it with her own voice before they're given too much time to think. "Are you ever not chewing gum by the way?”

“What?”

“Its like you have a never ending supply, when we reunited, on the way to Melina’s farm, even in space.” She lists.

“It keeps me focused.”

“What flavour is it?”

��Its mint.”

“Boring.”

“Do you want some gum, Yelena?”

“Yes.”

____☆____

Soon enough the two of them find themselves just off the cliff of Vormir.

“Not much to see, is there?” Yelena peers around the mostly desolate dark purple landscape of the alien planet skeptically.

“Well we aren’t exactly there yet.” Natasha points West and they begin their trek.

“What even is a soul stone?” The blonde questions. Obviously after the battle of New York the existance of other worldy beings was undeniable, but there was still much to be learnt.

“Something we need, and we’re going to get it.”

“Thanks for that, really helped.”

Natsha is used to Yelena’s new found and constant use or sarcasm now and responds accordingly “You’re welcome. Lets just try to hurry this up a little, we’re running out of time.”

Yelena doesn’t have any snarky comment or funny remark to what Natasha says and simply nods, picking up her pace until she’s walking side by side with her sister.

It doesn’t matter if they’re deep underground or deep in space, they’re here to complete a mission and luckily for Yelena she has the person she currently trusts the most by her side.

Natsha holds her hand up prompting Yelena to stop in her tracks.

“What is it?” she whispers, taking out her handgun almost at the exact same moment as Natasha.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back in a hushed tone.

The pair slowly approach the source of the noise with their weapons drawn and are surprised to say the least when they see who is awaiting them.

The red-skinned figure in a black cloak barely acknowledges the fact they’re aiming the guns directly at his forehead before he speaks.

“Welcome, Natsha, daughter of Ivan. Yelena, daughter of Alexei.”

Natsha lowers her gun and Yelena reluctantly does the same.

“That’s what aliens look like?” Yelena murmurs to Natsha, she still sometimes forgets the fact her older sister doesn’t know everything.

Natsha ignores Yelena’s question, mainly because she had no answer. “Who are you?”

“Consider me a guide. To you, and to all who seek the soul stone.”

“Oh, good. Tell us where it is, then we'll be on our way.”

“Ah, lieschen. If only it were that easy”

The ‘guide’ leads them to the edge of the cliff. When Yelena looks over the edge she feels a turn in her stomach which she hopes Natasa does as well, something isn’t right.

“What you seek lies in front of you. As does that which you fear.”

Natsha squints at the base of the cliff. “The stone’s down there?”

“For one of you. For the other, in order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul.”

Yelena’s eyes are immediately snap back on Natasha. “A soul for a soul? What does he mean, Tasha?” She can’t help but use her nickname even in the prescence of a stranger.

The look on her sister’s face tells her everything she needs to know.

Natsha had never thought she was going to see her little sister again after they were dragged out of that shipping container.

Yelena was too soft and sensitive, even for a six-year-old. The Red Room surely would have disposed of her but here she was, a grown woman. Calloused and blunt.

Sometimes it hurt Natasha to see how much she had changed, but she knew she had to in order to survive.

Now only one of them was going to leave this cursed planet, and Natsha would be damned if it wasn’t Yelena.

“…one of us has to go.” She says, her voice already saturated with grief.

Natsha has to force her eyes to the rocky ground when she sees the tears already forming in her baby sister’s eyes.

“Surely there has to be another way, he could just be messing with us for all we know!” Yelena’s rising fury became evident in her voice.

“A soul for a soul. We… we swore we would do whatever it takes.”

“No! Stop with this hero bullshit! We are not doing this.”

Natasha takes her sister’s cheeks in both of her hands, making her face her directly. She doesn’t care if she sees her already beginning to cry, she has to look at her one last time.

“I’m so sorry, little sister.”

“No, no don’t start saying that please, we’ll find a way, Tasha, we always do.” Yelena tries to sound confident but it comes out more pleading.

Natasha doesn’t answer her and just pulls her into a hug, trying to ignore the fingers digging into her as if she would disintegrate the moment she let go.

Natsha wishes she had never brought Yelena into all of this.

With a speed Natsha didn’t even think was possible until she witnessed it, Yelena pulls herself away and runs full tilt straight for the edge.

Dammit, Yelena.

“Yelena stop!”

The blonde doesn’t react to Natsha’s calls, only stopping when the two collide.

This wasn’t the first time Yelena had proved she was willing to die for the greater good, the fall of the Red Room being a prime example. It was like any form of self preservation during missions was completely wiped out from her mind, but Natsha wasn’t exactly much better.

Natsha pins her sister’s arms down, sitting on her stomach. Yelena kicks out wildly but her emotions are controlling her and she can’t seem to wrench free.

“Let me go!”

“You know I can’t do that, Lena.”

“You know I can’t do this, I can’t do this without you, Tasha.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Natsha knows the moment she stands up Yelena will attempt to incapacitate her. Short of kocking her out herself she doesn’t know what can stop her sister from trying to beat her to the edge.

“I can’t loose you again, please.” Natasha has only heard Yelena like this once in her life, the airstrip in Cuba. And It breaks her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We didn’t deserve this.”

“Don’t do it, Tasha.”

Natsha desperately wants to listen to her sister’s pleas but what can she do? If she had been presented this as a hypothetical situation: ‘sacrifice yourself for the lives of billions, but leave behind your loved ones’. She would have said yes in a heartbeat.

But now looking into the watery eyes of Yelena she can’t imagine how that could ever had been her answer.

“You need to let me go, Lena.” Natasha whispers, knowing her instructions must be near impossible.

Yelena breaks down into sobs, unable to speak she simply lets Natsha hold her, rocking her back and forth until she’s reduced to small hiccups.

After Yelena can cry no longer, Natsha begins to speak again.

“Its okay, little sister.”

Natasha aims her Widow’s bite at Yelena and before she has time to react, she’s out cold.

Yelena wakes up again half submerged in dark waters and it takes her only a few seconds to recount everything that happened in the last hour.

“Natsha? Natsha!”

She stands, scanning the scenery desperately until she notices the presence of a small, solid object in her hand.

A stone.

Yelena opens her gloved plam and when she sees the gold glow which is so bright she has to shield her eyes for a moment, she knows.

All she has left of her is a single stone. A stone that holds her smile and love, a stone that she died and left her for.

Her sister Natasha Romanoff is dead, and there was nothing she could have done to stop her.

____☆____

“I hate to be right, please, tell me I'm wrong,

Please, tell me I'm wrong,

'Cause it's on again, off again,

Love you like oxygen,

I don't know what to say or do"

-Habits, Genevieve Stokes

I now have the entire Endgame script on my phone :]

[saunteringvaguelydownwards]

Yelena hearing Natasha tell her not to spike the engine, looking at Natasha with love and regret and then doing what she has to do.

Natasha seeing Taskmaster approaching fast, looking at Yelena with love and regret and then doing what she has to do.

Natasha, letting go, falling to save Yelena.

Natasha, letting go, falling to save everyone.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Secrets (3)

Pairings: Wanda X Reader, Natasha X Reader

This fic is inspired by the song Secret by the Pierces and the HBO Max show Love and Death. I recommend listening to the song before reading but it's not necessary

Warnings- 18+ Smut (Mommy Kink, Orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, rough strap on sex, praise and degrading, thigh riding, crying during sex, choking, brief hair pulling and spanking), dark thoughts, small amount of angst

Please consider these warnings before reading.

Chapter 3- Tell Mommy What You Want. (4.5k words)

Other Chapters: 1, 2, 4, 5

Tell Mommy What You Want.

Why when we do our darkest deeds do we tell? They burn in our brains, become a living hell 'Cause everybody tells Everybody tells

When the door swung open, the shy smile on your face fell at the deadly look you were met with, her hand clasping at your shirt and dragging you into the motel room. With a slam, your back hit the door, her lips meeting yours just as roughly while her hands wasted no time in travelling down your body, slipping under your skirt and sliding your panties to the side.

"Fuck Wanda," you moaned into her mouth, her lips silencing your desperate plea as arousal clouds your mind, body melting into her touch. Her tongue dominates your mouth, a whimper leaving you at her actions as her fingers circle your clit before sliding through the slick that had swiftly built between your thighs.

"Already so wet," she mumbles, a moan escaping you at the mere tone of her voice, her eyes peering down into yours. You were hypnotised by the green of her eyes, the pure lust and desire swirling in them.

You both hold eye contact as she thrusts two fingers straight inside you, a guttural noise ripped out of you while your head lolls back against the door, her pace relentless. Her slender digits slide in and out of you in the perfect rhythm, curling them at just the right spots to have you whimper and whine her name pathetically. You can feel the smirk playing on her lips as her mouth litters your neck in hot-opened mouth kisses, the sensation burning pleasantly into your skin.

Your legs soon give in, the pleasure coursing through your body too much as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. Wanda notices how your pussy clenches around her, spasming at the way her fingers pump in and out of you expertly, and moves her head to face yours, her free hand reaching to the back of your head, fingers threading through your head and tugging on it to make you look into her eyes.

"Look at me Detka," she rasps out, her eyes significantly darker than before, jaw clenching. Your eyes meet hers, another wave of arousal crashing powerfully over you at the pure dominance radiating off of her. A groan leaves her lips at the filthy sounds of your wetness, a broken moan escaping you when you can feel your orgasm about to tear through your body.

"Fuck, I'm close," your tone is nothing but submissive, the desperate tone almost able to change Wanda's mind. Almost. "Wanda please, please can I come?" Your hands reach out to her hips, clutching onto her as if your life depended on it.

"Oh Detka," she chuckles out teasingly, a sinister tone taking over her voice as you watch how her eyes switch to something...primal. "Did you really think I wouldn't know?" she rasps out at the shell of your ear, biting down before letting out another malicious chuckle that sent a shiver running down your spine.

"Know what?" your tone nervous as her hand moves from your hair to your throat, her head tilting slightly and oh fuck.

"Don't play games with me Dorogaya," she grits out, her fingers still sliding into your dripping cunt, legs starting to shake as you try to clamp your thighs around her hand. "What did I tell you yesterday?" she muses, kissing you roughly once more, biting down on your lip to hear you let out that pitiful noise she loves so much. She hums cockily when you don't respond, simply sliding her fingers out of you, the whine that left you instantly being silenced by her pointed look, frustration filling you at being denied your release. "I said this," her hand spanks your core, hips bucking off the wall abruptly while a loud moan is torn from the back of your throat, "Was mine."

"I'm sorry-"

"Ah ah," she interrupts with a smirk at your flustered form, cutting off your excuse while her mouth inches closer to yours, her hand spanking your core once more, the pain mixing with pleasure. "Sluts don't get to speak unless asked to," she rasps out, an affected sigh leaving your lips as you try to control yourself. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, arousal fogging your mind as Wanda toyed around with you.

"This body," she slowly lets her eyes rake over you, teeth biting down on her lower lip before she peers into your eyes, "Is mine, so why did you think you could touch yourself last night? Hump that little red toy like a whore?"

Your eyes widen at the mention of your vibrator, silently asking the question of how she knew to which she simply laughs at, looking at you with a different look in her eye.

So innocent, so unaware of how much I care about you.

"Come on Detka," she sighs out, "If you didn't want me to see, you would have shut your curtains," your not sure how to feel about her watching you, but the thoughts swiftly fade away when she pulls your body away from the door, guiding you to the bed and having you straddle her thigh. "You wanted me to see."

You wanted me to punish you.

Your mouth opens to speak, hesitating as you remember her earlier command and looking longingly in her eyes.

That's it, see Detka, you can listen, you can be good for me.

When she nods, giving you permission, her name falls off your lips in an unsure tone, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of her lips while her hands move to your waist, guiding you along her thigh as she makes you ride it.

"That's not what you called me last night Detka," she teases, your face turning into a bright shade of red as you try to hide it at the crook of her neck, hips grinding against her legs like a desperate little thing. "Come on Dorogaya, don't be shy now," she continues, her hands making you press your hips down harder, a whimper leaving you at the pleasure, "Tell Mommy what you want."

The moan that left your lips could have made Wanda come, the sheer submission of your needy noise fueling her desire to break you. A wicked smirk took over her face as she guided your face away from her neck, looking into your humiliated but lust-blown eyes.

"Mommy," you whimper, flickering your gaze down to her lap to avoid her stare, noticing how it looked like she was wearing something under her jeans before her hand lifted your chin, forcing you to look in her eyes.

"That's it Detka," she praises as you hold your gaze, hips rolling against her thigh with vigour as another orgasm starts to build within you, "Tell me Mommy what you want."

Tell me you want me. Only me.

"You, I want you Mommy," the words spill in a breathy sigh as your hands interlock with hers to support yourself, still using her thigh. "Please let me come," she lets out a dark chuckle, your hips twitching against her.

"Detka," she coos mockingly, a new plan forming in her head of how she was going to punish you. "You can come whenever you want," your head falls back to the crook of her neck, whimpering softly against her skin as your hips pick up their pace, desperately trying to reach the orgasm you were denied earlier.

"Good girl," she encourages your movements, letting her hands run up and down your back, murmuring praise into your ear. She wanted to lure you into a false sense of security, knowing that when she fucks you, it would absolutely ruin you. "That's it Detka, ride Mommy's thigh," her low tone at your ear and the words cause you to groan, your movements becoming frantic as you were so close. "Make a mess on Mommy's thigh," she bites down on your ear, letting out a soft moan of her own to tease you further. The combination of her dirty words, the lewd noise and the friction against your clit easily sends you crashing into your first orgasm of the night, hips stuttering while a string of filthy sounds spill from your lips.

Mommy's not finished with you yet Dorogaya.

Her hands continue to guide your hips, a whimper leaving you at the overstimulation and head leaving the comfort of her neck to look into her eyes and ask her to slow down. You're met with hungry eyes instead, her mouth crashing to yours messily, taking your breath away and stopping her movements as she loses herself in the kiss. The kiss is firm, like she knows exactly what she wants as she intends to drive you crazy, make you obsessed with her the way she is you.

"You were so desperate to come last night Detka," she sighs out in a taunting tone, panting for breath as she flips the two of you over, her front flush against your back as you're laid down on your stomach, sandwiched between her and the soft mattress, "So we're not going to stop until you beg me to." She pushes her hips forwards so you can feel the large strap on she's wearing, a sinful noise escaping you at what was about to happen.

"Mommy please," her hands lift your skirt up, fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties and dragging the fabric down, discarding them somewhere in the room before removing her jeans to reveal the strap.

The toy is teasingly placed against your folds, Wanda's mouth near your ear once more as you can hear her low sighs, adding to the fuel to the unbearable heat pooling between your thighs.

"Mommy please, I want you inside me," you whimper out, Wanda letting out a small condescending noise at your pleas, "Please, I need you." To continue the torment, she pushes her hips forwards, causing the toy to slide against your soaking cunt, a low groan escaping you as you tilt your head to look at her. She claims your lips while continuing to rock her hips forwards, teasingly sliding the toy against you while also coating it in your arousal.

Once she's had enough of teasing you, and herself, she positions the toy at your entrance, slowly easing it in as you would have to adjust to the size of her. The groan was swallowed by her mouth, the older woman placing one last kiss on your lips before moving to kneel, wanting to watch how the strap is swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

Mommy's little slut.

"Look how pretty you look stretched around my cock," she sighs out, watching intently as she slides the toy deeper inside you, revelling in the dragged out moans from you. "All mine," she mutters more to herself, indulging in her wildest thoughts about you as something within her snaps.

She pulls out swiftly and slams the toy back in, a scream reverberating around the room as her hips start a fucking brutal pace of pounding you into the mattress. Her movements become almost animalistic, needing to make you hers as she places one hand on your head to keep your face pressed against the sheets.

Your mouth parts into an o shape, a series of lewd and down right sinful noises torn out of you as she thrusts her hips into you with force, her hand releasing your head to hold your hips, pulling you back onto her cock, letting it reach deeper inside you.

"Mommy, fuck, you feel so good!" your body buzzes with pleasure at the constant feeling of the toy reaching all the spots inside you, Wanda wishing she could feel how tight and wet you were around the false cock, wanting to feel how you clenched so desperately around her.

"Shit, you're taking Mommy so well," she pants out, her hips somehow gaining more power as she fucks you like she was starved. The way you moan her name spurs her on to fuck you harder, choked moans spilling out of you, pleas falling off your lips like a chant. "Fuck, you like this don't you Detka?" she sighs out breathlessly, watching how your hands desperately clutch at the sheets. "You love being Mommy's fuck toy, my little slut."

"Yes," you don't even hesitate, "I love it, I'm yours, your slut."

Mine. My slut.

"Mine," she notices how your body starts to shake slightly beneath her, how it was getting harder to fuck you. "Come on Dorogaya, come all over Mommy's cock like a good girl," as if on command, your body crashes into a state of pleasure and euphoria as she continues to pump her hips into you.

Your body can't comprehend the pleasure flowing through your body as the toy is driven deeper and harder into you, a hand making its way to your hair and pulling hard, dragging another whine out of you.

Her hands move to wrap around your waist, lifting you into a kneeling position in front of her, mouth at the side of your ear while one of her hands wrap around your throat.

"She can't make you feel like I can, can she?" she rasps out, relentlessly pounding into you even in the new position, another powerful orgasm tearing through your body as all you can do is moan her name pathetically.

"Mommy," you practically sob out, back arching into her touch as one hand travels down the front of your body, fingers finding your clit and circling it to build up another orgasm.

"Answer my question Detka," she husks out, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as you can't comprehend anything other than the feeling of her cock mercilessly fucking you. "Oh Dorogaya," she chuckles out at your state, unable to answer her as you're completely lost in the pleasure. "She can't make you feel like Mommy can, you only need me Dekta," she purrs into your ear, "You don't need her. Only Mommy, only me," your body shakes against her when another powerful release crashes through you, a choked sob escaping you at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

"I-I can't," you whimper out between heavy breaths and small moans, Wanda letting your body rest against the sheets, admiring how your legs shake and tremble. Her hands guide you onto your back, your teary eyes meeting her enticing green, a softer glint in them now. "Mommy," you whine, moving your arms to wrap around her body, needing to feel her close.

"Mommy's got you Detka," she softly coos, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before slowly moving her hips forwards, the toy brushing your sensitive core. You let out a small noise but she simply shushes you gently, pressing another soft kiss to your face, "Give Mommy one more Dorogaya, just one more for me," she watches your face, noticing the subtle nod from you before sliding the toy back in, starting a much slower pace of gently thrusting her hips into you. "Good girl," she sighs out sensually against your lips, groaning into a kiss when your nails dig into her back, "That's it, I'm so proud of you Detka, so proud," you can only let out a whimper in response to the praise, mouth messily meeting hers as you struggle to maintain the kiss, eventually giving up and looking up into her eyes.

Theres a raw tenderness in her eyes as she fucks you intimately, wanting to watch you attentively as you come undone beneath her.

"Come for me," she whispers against your lips, a final orgasm tearing through your body as you moan into a kiss, her letting your body relax after you've ridden out the aftershocks. "I've got you," she sighs out softly, sliding the toy out of you and pulling your practically limp body into her arms, letting you bury your face at the crook of her neck as your hips still twitch occasionally. "I'll take care of you Detka," she mumbled against the top of your hair, exhaustion consuming your body as you relaxed into her embrace, barely understanding her words. "My beautiful girl," her fingers trail up and down your back as your body drifts to sleep, enjoying how much you were depending on her in this moment, "Noone can take you from me now."

Not even her.

***

Tik. Tok.

Tik. Tok.

The monotonous ticking of the clock quietly invaded your thoughts, interrupting the conflicting emotions bubbling inside you. You had spent most of the day lost in thought, unable to stop the way your mind relentlessly raced from possibility to possibility. Yesterday with Wanda felt amazing, it was something you had been wishing for a while now but that, that selfish desire, stirred guilt inside of you. Yesterday with Wanda felt horrible, it should never have happened and despite the way it made you feel, you couldn't enjoy it because you had royally fucked up.

The day consumed by your thoughts made you realise one thing. You loved Natasha. You started to imagine your life without her, like you currently were now as she was on her way back from the airport, and you couldn't bear it. The loneliness, the lack of lingering touches and soft words... The idea of losing her unnerved you, no, it terrified you. You should have seen this coming really, the guilt and regret but you didn't, too busy being blinded by lust and your own selfish wants.

As soon as the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, you snapped out of the spiral of thoughts, put a smile on your face, and rushed to meet your girlfriend. Her face lit up at the sight of you, your body crashing into for an embrace, a large puff of air escaping her when your bodies collided.

"Seems like somebody missed me," she chuckled out into your hair, hugging you back just as tightly as you smiled against her.

Guilt gnawed at you as your body melted against hers. You knew what you had done was wrong, and there was no taking it back, but all you could do now was to make sure she never found out.

It was ironic to you, you loved her that much you couldn't hurt her yet you did the one thing that would truly break her. Natasha... she owned your heart in a different way and that's what you realised recently. You loved her more than you realised and the guilt that had started to brew inside you would soon drown you. You would have to-

"What's got you thinking so hard?" she murmurs to snap you back to reality, pulling back from the hug, looking into your eyes, brows furrowed as you were deep in thought.

"Just thinking about what I did while you were away," you dismiss, offering her a smile as you gaze lovingly into her emerald eyes, her smile growing at the sight of yours.

"Oh yeah?" she hums, letting hands roam your back before guiding you towards the living room, falling onto a sofa with you following, moving to sit you in her lap. "What did you do?"

"Think about you," it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the way she thought you meant it, her lips stretching into a wide smile, a soft and content expression taking over her face.

"Aren't you the charmer," she laughs before letting her face rest at the crook of your neck, your arms snaking around her body as you just hold on to each other. "I thought about you too," she confesses in a whisper, a different tone to her voice before she disguises it, changing the subject. "I can't handle business trips with that man," she groans, the vibrations tickling your neck as you laugh at her annoyed tone, letting your hands rub soothing patterns across her back. "He's so annoying," she grumbles and you just move her face away from the comfort and safety of your neck, guiding her chin with your finger closer to your lips until they're merely inches apart.

"Well, you're here with me now so forget about him," you whisper, eyes watching how her eyes slowly darken, her gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. She leans in softly to press her lips to yours, a soft noise escaping her as she loses herself within you. She loved you unconditionally and soon she hoped to do the one thing you'd both been dreaming of.

"I was thinking," she says breaking the comfortable silence, "Why don't we invite Wanda and Vision one night for dinner, as a little thank you for bringing you home after the volleyball club?"

"Oh," you say, nervously chuckling as you weren't sure you would be able to handle dinner with them both there. "I mean would that be necessary? She said it was no big deal, she just drove home as normal."

"Yeah," she trails off, "But it would be nice to get to know them a bit better, don't you think?"

You offer a fake smile, nodding your head in agreement with her before diverting the conversation, pressing your lips to hers once more.

Her hands soon drift lower to your ass, a genuine smile breaking out on your face as you laugh into the kiss, "So eager," you tease, pulling back from the kiss. "I have a surprise for you now, this can wait till later," you whisper to her, her eyes lighting up with interest as she's intrigued by what you have planned.

"I'd argue this is better than any surprise," she purrs out seductively and you're so tempted to scrap your plan and take her to bed now, but you just about resist.

"Nat," you sigh out warningly, a smirk taking over her face as she watches how your pupils dilate at her tone "Go upstairs into the bathroom, the surprise is there," you murmur, climbing off her lap and watching as she pushes herself up off the sofa, following you up the stairs. She may or may not have chosen to follow you because she wanted to stare at your ass but she'd never admit that, even if you knew that's why she did it.

"If you wanted me naked Moya Lyubov, all you had to do was ask," she teases when walking into the ensuite, smiling at the way you had candles lit around the bathtub, a relaxed atmosphere taking over the room.

"Just shh," you say, pressing your finger to her lips to shut her up playfully, earning a raised brow from her. "I know how stressed you can get after these trips so I thought I'd treat you to a nice relaxing bath," you explain. Whether you did this because you truly loved and cared for her or whether it was a feeble attempt to make yourself feel less guilty, you weren't sure, all you knew is that you adored the soft and content glint swirling in her eyes.

"Are you going to join me?" she whispers while feeling the warm water with her hand, smiling as you must have planned it to be the perfect temperature for her.

"Do you want me to?" you whisper to keep the tranquil atmosphere, watching as she slowly starts to strip, eyes snapping over to you while a chuckle leaves her lips. She answers you by walking up to you, revelling at the way your breath hitches as her naked body stands in front of you, and pulls your shirt over your head, signalling for you to strip as well.

Soon, both of you are in the bathtub, her body pressed against your front as she leans her head back against your shoulder, her eyes closed as her body relaxes. You can feel the tension and stress flowing from her body, letting your arms wrap around her middle as you both just savour the moment. The lingering, innocent touches and soft words soon disappear, her hands desperately grasping the side of the tub as her knuckles bleed white with the intensity of her grip.

"Right there," she moans at the shell of your ear, your finger circling her clit while your other hand tries to keep her hips still, not wanting the water to spill out of the tub. "Fuck, just like that," she groans, muffling her moans by kissing your neck. You slide your fingers back into her, curling them just how she loves it, earning a broken moan that tickles your skin, a heavy breath following it as you can feel her tightening around you.

"Come for me Nat," you whisper lowly into her ear, crashing your lips to hers to swallow her moans as she tumbles over the edge, body tensing against yours as pleasure shudders throughout her. The kisses turn messy and slow as she rides out the aftershocks, a softer moan escaping her as you pull your hand away, wrapping both of them around her body and pulling her closer for an intimate embrace.

Her head lolls back against your body, a tired expression on her face as she lovingly gazes at you, a smile toying on her lips as you look at her.

"Thank you for the surprise," she mumbles playfully, a small laugh escaping you as she settles against your body again, the two of you enjoying the lukewarm water before it gradually becomes cold.

You simply kiss her forehead and enjoy the last bit of the warm water before deciding to get out. You both quickly dry off, not without a few more lingering looks and not so innocent touches, before slipping on clothes to sleep in.

You walked over to the window while Natasha quickly left the room for something, looking into Wanda's room to see her sat on the bed, book in hand. It was as if she knew you were watching her as she lifted her head to meet your gaze, her head tilting curiously as she sensed something was up with you, brows furrowing at your tense form.

What's wrong Detka?

You lowered your head in shame as you shut the curtains, unable to see the anger flicker across her face or how her jaw clenched hard.

What are you doing? You're mine. Stop hiding from me.

Natasha soon returned, snaking her arms around your waist and dragging you into bed, moving around so your head could rest on her chest, legs intertwined under the duvet as you cuddled against each other.

"I love you," you whispered to her, wanting her to know that you did love despite your... mistake with Wanda.

"I love you too," she murmurs softly, pulling you impossibly closer before allowing sleep to take over her, the eventful day catching up to her.

You remained awake for a while longer, unable to turn your brain off as you contemplated what you had to do. You tilted your face to look at Natasha, admiring how peaceful she looked as she slept before coming to a final conclusion on what .

You had to break it off with Wanda, no matter what.

Dorogaya, I'm never letting you go.

——— I hope you enjoyed :) Please leave any thoughts/comments/reblogs <3 They are really appreciated ;)  Master List

[apathetic-dry-rot]

FICLET REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN

Fandoms/Characters I write for:

BTD 1 & 2:

Lawrence Oleander

Ren Hana

Sano Kojima

Akira Kojima

EMH: Evan

Habit

Steph

TLOU 2:

Ellie Williams

Dina

Abby Anderson

MARVEL:

Loki Laufeyson

Natasha Romanoff

Wanda Maximoff

Sylvie Laufeydjottir

The Batman/DCU:

The Riddler

Catwoman/Selina

BIG NO-NOS: *ncest

r@pe (aside from cnc/consensual-nonconsent)

Anal (It's just not my thing)

Adult x Minor (gtfo. requests like this will earn you an immediate block)

Bodily fluids other than spit or cum (I don't write for Vincent for a reason- again, not my thing)

THINGS THAT ARE OK:

Knifeplay

Breathplay

Foodplay

Orgasm Denial

Overstimulation

Breeding Kink

Degredation

Praise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PUT YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT

Just don't be a dick, ok?

[ddringo]

Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy

With a heavy heart she nudges Peter kindly as she swings down his street. “Nayk” she pushes the headphones off his ears, “It’s time to wake up”.

The Spider’s eyes flutters open a short moment later and the teen straightens in his seat, rubbing his tired eyes. “We’re there already?” he asks in typical I-just-woke-up mumble voice that makes Natasha's heart swell. She’d thought she get used to having the kid around by now. But maybe she won’t ever get used to it.

“Almost” Natasha nods and slows the car down, eyes scanning for a spot to park, while she drops Peter off. “Is May home?”.

Peter shrugs and unlocks his phone. The blue lights shine up into his face, allowing Natasha to see the healing cut across his cheek. Steve had hit harder than Natasha had expected him to. “I don’t think so, she hasn’t texted. She’d probably working late. She does that sometimes”.

***

In an alternate universe, Natasha takes the spot as Mentor in Peter's life. But when Peter suddenly disappears from his apartment, Natasha has to accept that she'll never see him again.

Or will she?

[builder051]

I'm out to cut the junkie

With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose

Beck, Loser

_________________________

Creedless Assassins (with a touch of Nat on fire).

Ehhhh, trigger warnings--canon typical violence, drug use, alcohol, addiction, mentions of sex, mentions of dangerous behavior, mentions of death (of a villain), mentions of depression (inc. feelings of not worth living anymore--NOT suicidal), mental illness/ED-esque stuff--Basically the usual for both of these 'verses, but maybe amped up a tiny bit.

_____________________

They've been assigned a mission. Again. To stand around the third level of the parking garage, not awkwardly at at all with their full leather battle dress and weapons held at the ready.

Eventually the target would raise the blinds on the window to his office, probably when the shadows of sunlight begin to fall in the other direction over the rest of the cityscape. Sometime around 12:07 pm Eastern Standard.

They're in New York, after all, and she's something of a specialist in watching sunlight fade to moonlight and back again. It's exceptionally glorious to watch while lying on one's back in a sleeping bag, under the distorted stretch of plexiglass that protected her temporary bed from the worst of the elements. The worst of everything. A few pills. The vodka minis from the bottom of her pocket. Nat's past, her training, became more of an insurance policy. She wouldn't get hurt. She didn't last time. And the seduction of observing, absorbing the things that went on, all over the world, overpowered the needs of mere humans. Nat slept with her eyes open, gazing at half-constellations lost mostly to city dust. She slept stock-still, laid out flat, allowing fate and liquor to warm her through the night.

Nat's been home for... at least a day, now. And back to the office. Back from leave, or finished dawdling through her last mission--she's already forgotten.

"Ok." Clint checks the time on the many-handed watch face embedded in his left arm guard. "It's 11:55."

"Mm." Nat hopes her acknowledgement is audible. Sleeping in her own bed, though warmer, is a lot more dull than... camping.

--

The bottle of cheap rosé she had before dinner hadn't agreed with bagel and Velveeta she'd attempted to fry for an evening meal. All that had produced, though, was a lump of greasy, rock-hard bread with molten cheese product dribbling out of the hole in the middle. And the unleashing of the shrill sound of the smoke detector, which was all the way across the apartment, stuck to the ceiling above the half-wall separating living room from the bedroom. Waving a fistfull of junk mail at the thing made it shut up, but then Nat was distracted.

She jammed as much bagle into her mouth as possible, then tried to breathe and hack at the same time as rough edges of bread scraped her upper palate and a string of neon, oversalted, and still boiling non-cheese ran down her throat.

Nat heard the frying pan fall off the stove and the junk mail flop on top of it. She hopes the shopping flyers won't start to sizzle and start an actual flame. Or maybe she doesn't care. Her renters' insurance covers fire, she thinks. She could get a pay out. The smell of old smoke, suspicious ceiling stains... she's lived in worse conditions.

She makes it to the bathroom, but vomits beside the toilet. The whole room is just three feet across and barely longer than it is wide, so it's not an awful miss. Not the kind she feels guilty about; it won't require a lot of cleanup.

Unable to focus on anything but the blisteringly painful predicament in her throat, Nat's hand lands directly in her first deposit of sickness, sending her skidding on her knees and coming down hard on the toilet seat with her chin.

"Fuck." Her uvula is in some kind of limbo imprisonment, unable to force a swallow or retract enough to let the bile- soaked bread escape with the rapidly solidifying Velveeta. The sweet bite of the rosé has migrated upward as well, giving Nat an internal punch in the gut to remind her she is already full of liquid if she needs to wash herself out.

Nat bows her head and folds her arms at the back of her neck, shoulders safely tucking around her ears. Then her slimy fingertips make contact with her skin, and she shudders, then pushes a retch with her abdominal muscles.

It takes fingers at first, then hacking and stretching her neck and lips, but Nat finishes. Yanks the towel off the back of the bathroom door. Cleans her hands. The floor. Then she folds the threadbare terry cloth into quarters and mashes it against her face.

She's red from exertion. Her eyes are puffy. Watering against their will. The last of the wine, far digested by now, adds fogginess to the floatiness that Nat's always pretended was fun, like fairy wings, instead of the mark that she was about to pass out.

It had been fun, like a game, to flutter back to her dormitory and into the nest of her covers, where she could fall back asleep before the nighttime minder would hear a rustle and think about raising a brow.

Now, though, Nat's to-do list pops up behind her eyelids, flashing red in urgency. Set an alarm. Turn on her ringer. Is she safe?

That one's been hard to answer. For a while now. But she has guns and knives and an empty wine bottle and a frying pan down there somewhere, filled, sadly with greasy, defeated-looking newsprint.

--

Last night's wine had soothed Nat into passable sleep. She woke to her alarm, dressed, drove in, and made the breakroom's first pot of morning's coffee. It was meant to be a friendly, 'I'm back,' gesture to Clint, the most vigorous consumer of the breakroom coffee, and therefore, usually the one doing the brewing--not to mention the carafe scrubbing, grounds sweeping, filter finding, and peforming the endless tasks that went along with it.

She stood and waited for him to show up so they could both pour steaming styrofoam cups and clink them together over the manila envelope that held the information for their next assignment.

Nat may have made the coffee, even the one who ceremonially downed a cup, black, no sugar, on a raw, tender stomach, but she was not going to hold the stupid track of formality for long. God, she's been at work for two hours and she wants a hit of heroin and a flop in that one alley behind the mom-and-pop coffee and doughnuts, where the air smells amazing and somehow her other senses eat it up and fill her with unbeguiled happiness...except, of course, for the tiny sliver of brain that remains aware that if she gives into the addiction too often, she will lose her job, her income, her security clearance, her friends... her best friend. And probably her life. Not that she cares so much about that part.

"11:56." Clint reads the time out slowly. He glances to Nat. Where Nat ought to be, that is.

She's four of five yards back, leaning against a pillar, a gun tucked carelessly into the thigh pocket of her leggings. She flips the bronze caps that hold the bite cartridges in her wristbands, open, then closed. Then open...

"Hey!" Clint taps the end of his bow on the concrete floor, where it makes a brief loud note that echoes well beyond its appropriate talking-turn. "Are you paying attention?"

Nat raises her head. Which is aching.

Tylenol? Excedrin? If she can get into medical, maybe... Xanax? Fiorocet? Oxy. Now we're talking. A little vodka and, hm. Nat thinks. What's gentle on the puking system? Protein shake? Vending machine, how convenient. But does she have cash? Who can she hit up who won't be suspicious...? Peter Parker, maybe, if he's around. But asking for a kid's pocket change so she can do drugs...? It's the damn headache, really...

"Yes." Nat rolls her eyes. Which hurts. "But nobody sets alarm clocks for lunch."

Clint, who, in the past few seconds, has taken up his ready position again, scowls back at her. "I thought you liked target practice." There's a tinge of a joke in his words, but Nat's highly done with being buddy-buddy. Her claws and ability to bully and belittle are an inch below the surface, and she doesn't see them getting through the day without raising a little bad blood.

"I always win against you," Nat says plainly. She pats her gun a couple of times. "I don't have to stand there and wind up for ten years, like you do."

"Come on. You only win 'cause I let you." Clin offers what may be a sincere or deeply sarcastic grin.

"Why didn't you just bring a cadet?" Nat shrugs. She does not mean to snort. "If it's all just target practice."

"Above their pay grade," Clint answers simply. "Did you even read the brief?"

"Do you think I'm stupid or something?" She makes enough of a stony glare to cast the question seriously. Like part of an interrogation

Nat had glanced through the papers of the brief as they rode in the nondescript black SUV on the way to their start point. Nat looked at bolded words. Building diagrams. She sped-read diagonally top to bottom, then bottom to top on the adjacent page, collecting maximum information with minimum effort, and trying as hard as possible not to get carsick.

For all intents and purposes, she has read the brief. Nat's method of keeping time, though, is unadulterated by to-the-minute school bus arrivals and ice-cream shops that closed at precisely 5:30. Pointing this out to Clint... would be god's honest truth. It would also make him hate her. Probably miss all his shots. Be downgraded for poor performance. Maybe give Nat the cold shoulder for as long as they lived. She lived. Because he had reasons to carry on.

Clint turns slightly, so he's no longer looking at Nat over his shoulder. He's at a perfect 45 degrees, giving his attention to neither Nat nor the target. Which, in Nat's opinion, is exceptionally ill thought through--Not only are the 12 and 6 open to attack, but so are the 3 and 9. The target is at 1:30, and Nat's at 10:30, which, though her posture and the height of the wall of the parking garage currently form a blockade, gives her the most direct line of fire to the window of the target that, sometime in the next 13-odd minutes, will raise his window blinds and drop dead, never knowing what hit him. It'll be a bullet, though. Nat's fairly certain. But pointing that out to Clint... Well, she'll hold her tongue until he's had his chance to speak.

"I..." Clint sighs. "I think you... sometimes..." He pauses again. "You do some really stupid shit." Clint presses his lips together. "Not to say that, like, anyone else doesn't do...stuff."

Nat straightens up a little so she can see the target's window, still closed up, over Clint's shoulder.

"Hm." She doesn't think Clint sees her looking. She doesn't think Clint is aware of how much of her job she performs on autopilot. "Work's, you know, hard," Nat says. "When you've got...other stuff..."

Nat chooses to let her voice trail off. To leave Clint with the ghost of the threat, the knowledge that she has the ability to say more, to hold it over his head. She'd never do it. Clint knows she won't. But, then again, she does some stupid shit.

"I-- fuck..." Clint lets the end of his bow touch the floor again. He holds the top of it, and a few arrows, tightly between his fists, then lowers his forehead as if in shame.

Nat stays quiet. He's being a sucker, though. He's being wildly unsafe. Clint's putting himself first, putting his reputation first, putting Nat's perception of him first, flashing his honor... and leaving himself completely vulnerable. Both of them. It's he, now who has no interest in the mission.

Nat had meant to get under his skin, but she'd controlled herself. She hadn't unleashed her worst. She didn't mean to destroy him, her buddy, her mission partner.

But it's a catastrophe anyway. Nat fucks things up. She wonders vaguely how many shots of vodka she can take before a nice dose of oxy makes her fall asleep.

"The shadow doesn't cover the other half of the city this time of year until 12:07 or so." It's a declarative statement. She's not telling Clint he's wrong. That his ready position was unjustified. And certainly not that he doesn't know how to tell time.

There's gatorade in the vending machine, too. The big ones. One quart? Hopefully it's restocked. Nat hates the orange flavor. But a hangover buster's a hangover buster, all the same.

"Clint?" Nat taps her wristband against the butt of her gun, which remains in her pocket. The clank is sharp and harsh, and it doesn't produce an echo like Clint's bow against the ground.

"Ah. Yeah..." He shakes his head and blinks a few times.

Nat checks the shadow against the row of skyscrapers set a block in front of the target's window. It's past noon, she gauges. They have 5 minutes, maybe. At least that's how long they have to get back into ready positions.

"Hey! Mind the time!" Nat thinks about adding 'dipshit,' but it would only be a waste of glares and pokes and uncertainty of whether they've made it back to equal ground.

"Ah, kill me for this on," Nat mumbles under her breath. She pulls her gun from the side pocket of her leggins, letting the elastic snap satisfactorily back into shape, nary a wrinkle remaining. Nat glances quickly from the nearest parked car to the entry to the stairwell to the architectural pillars to the handicapped-accessible loading zones to the trash and recycling bins. Then she draws in a breath, gracefully lifts her shoulders, and turns in her heels. She still shoots best from a natural first position. Not forced into impossible turnout, but balanced, steady, and-- she pulls the trigger.

A perfectly round hole, just the size of a #2 pencil, appears in the ceiling above them. Nat had aimed about two feet in front of herself and five or so west of Clint, so neither one of them was actually in danger. The effect, though had them both scrambling.

"What the fuck? Why did you do that?" Clint yells toward Nat, leaping away from a shallow crack forming around the hole. A few bits of rubble, pea gravel, really, fell to the garage floor and scattered.

"Well, I got your attention." Nat squeezes past Clint and leans her elbows on the garage wall, not exactly in a ready stance, but closer and more attentive to the target than Clint, who is still trying to comb dust out of his hair and eyebrows.

"You could have fucking killed us!" Clint yells.

Nat finds his voice quite easy to ignore. The echo makes it like the cry of an animal, or the sound of a foghorn, let off once, then carrying on through the power of physics.

"SHIELD doesn't have a lot of money for damage settlements," Clint says crossly when he finally appears at Nat's side again. "If you make that thing collapse, I'm not gonna cover for you."

"It's not going to collapse." Nat rolls her eyes. "But, hey, look at that tower." She points. "Yes the migraine-inducing one that's made of polarized sunglass lenses."

"Uh..." Clint squints.

"See the cell tower on top of it?"

"Like, over there?" It's close enough. Not worth the time splitting hairs.

"For the love of the fucking birdbrain." Nat shakes her head. "Mr. wristwatch. Mr. timekeeper." Nat pauses, but Clint doesn't answer. "Sundial much?"

"Didn't those die out with the Romans or something?" Clint keeps watching the skyline, though.

"Yeah, along with bows and arrows," Nat replies flatly. "Big HYDRA officials who are also CEOs of obscure companies that manufacture dangerous chemicals with premature human trials? People who work for themselves don't take their lunch hour because the teacher told them to line up."

"Ok." Clint assumes a ready position. Then aims at the window beside the one they're supposed to be targeting. He huffs when Nat uses two fingers to nudge his arrow for a better shot. "What am I missing here?"

Adderall, Nat thinks. Or a 17th cup of coffee.

But the latter has just as much of a chance of becoming a problem instead of a pick-me-up, and Clint could be accused of public exposure, or something else random and outdated, and those are the kind of charges that flashing creds or posing for a selfie don't change a grumpy policeman's mind about the issuing of a ticket. And there's no way Nat would cover for that, either.

She wonders if Clint would cover for her if she pulled out a mini and had herself her own jolt of liquid courage. But Nat's pretty sure the bottle at the bottom of her bag has become a vestibule for used needles. She has no problem re-using a needle, as long as it's hers, only hers, and has only ever been hers. But taking a shot has only one relevant meaning at the moment, and Nat is sure she would not enjoy the introduction of a piece of slim, pointy metal to her gastrointestinal system, no matter how small and easy to swallow.

Sometimes people do stupid things.

Sometimes they do them on purpose.

The three linear points of the recycling bin, the architectural pillar, and the center of the handicapped-accessible loading area, when mapped on a diagonal, created the hypotenuse that perfectly fit the endpoints of the right angle created by the right angled corner consisting of the line stretching from bumper of the last parked car in the row to the top of Clint's head, and the line running from Clint's to the entrance of the stairwell. Each level of the parking garage is arranged in roughly the same way, or the same way in reverse as levels build upon levels. As the area of ceiling where Nat sent her bullet had nothing underneath it (well, except Clint and herself as possible casualties), it would follow that nothing meaningful would be taking up the same space on the level above them. The crosswalk toward the elevator. The mounded rock supporting a "one-way" sign. Another trash can. At worst, one of those corners marked off with diagonal lines where parking isn't allowed, but someone will try squeezing in their smart car...

But that one was worth the risk. And it was the risk, Nat supposes, that made it stupid. She has nothing to say about her geometry. It's been something of a mind-soother lately. Even though it falls away quickly to thoughts about booze. There's a kid that hangs around the office, usually in blue leggings and a letterman jacket, and Nat doesn't have a soft spot for him. Not at all. He is allowed the blue BIC pens and blank computer paper from her cubicle, though. But he may not have cardstock. And under no circumstances may he sit in her ergonomic swivel chair. But, for some reason, there are always folding chairs stacked neatly at the end of the hallway. And Nat's gained a pack of alcohol wipes, low-profile, perfectly sized to nestle beside her stapler, and claiming 99.99% germ-removal efficiency. Without the harsh smell of medical-grade disinfectant.

She hasn't told Clint. No need for more vulnerabilities, more worries, more secret confessions. No need for private codes, silent pleads for help, forgiveness when there's no promise it won't happen again.

Because that's what stupidity is, right? Making poor choices. Nat, putting needles in her arms, and Clint, refusing a medevac because he won't leave her alone in the field for five minutes without his protection, even if it's wild and delirious and completely off target. It's Budapest, it's the Chitauri, it's the time they slept together when neither of them was even drunk. Or high. The hotel room was just fucking cold. And...stupid happened. But Clint's clean, and Nat's barren, so, it's not like actual stupid happened.

"Ok." Nat calculates something like 2 minutes left. "Grown-ups with boring jobs have blinds in their offices," she says quickly, not giving Clint a chance to butt in. "Blinds go down when it's sunny. They go up when it's shady."

She sounds like a self-righteous bitch talking to an idiot, but it's important that this is communicated, even if it's simple. They live on jets and in cubicles and cheap hotels with blackout curtains.

"You can't calculate the target's movements by guessing when he stands up to go to lunch."

Nat hopes there isn't an implication that Clint's original strategy was useless. She likes to be right. She likes to be first. She does not like to see her partner, her friend, drinking the cold dregs of breakroom coffee and leaning against the back bumper of his car, which is idling while the stereo blasts something like Toto's "Africa."

In pure, stupid selfishness, it makes her wild once she gets a chance to hit up. The lame "text me," or hesitant shoulder squeeze Nat offers Clint when he's down, it never seems to solve anything. She doesn't know how to pick him up off the floor and breathe life back into him. Not really. Clint has a wife. He has a family.

And Nat has the liquor store on the corner, the Rite Aid that doesn't ID for smokes or poor man's LSD. The residual silent toe-running from her Bolshoi training from before HYDRA took her away. It still gets her in and out of unlocked rooms with pockets full of loot. The gym. The bathroom. The vending machine. That one may take algebra, though. Nat hasn't brushed up on solving for x.

Xanax. That would be great. She'd split it with Clint, and then maybe the tension would die down enough for them to finish the mission.

"People just eat when they're hungry...?" Clint probably doesn't even realize he's talking. He gives his wristwatch a glance, seeming to startle himself. "It's twelve-oh-fucking-- we probably missed it--what the--"

"Nope, just watch the sundial." Nat assumes her ready position, front knee bent and back knee straight. Elbows locked and forearms barely touching the garage wall. She sets her sight on the center of the window. Clint... she can't spare a breath, even a thought on Clint.

Nat breathes slowly, in, and out. Her body doesn't move. Her ribcage doesn't expand. Even the smallest dancers learned early that their talent meant nothing. Obedience. Perfection. The bodice of the costume may as well be a whale-boned corset. The ballet mistress will shout if the girl in the back row parts her lips, raises her collarbones. Discipline. For... Nat gives it 90 seconds, tops.

"You know what you're doing?" This time, Clint's ready position is true.

"Mm-hm."

"What's the visual confirmation?" Clint's only checking. Not annoying the crap out of her. Probably not on purpose, anyway.

"The color of his tie."

"What's the color?"

"If you don't stop it, we are going to miss the window. Window of time, I mean."

"I don't see anything," Clint protests. "And I don't feel like you're all there, with the shooting the ceiling and everything."

Nat blinks. The only movement she allows herself to make. "Shut up and watch the sun move."

"Can you just, like, confirm--"

Nat angrily spits out her answer, her words delivered at high speed and low volume. "The tie is robin's egg blue, which is his daughter's favorite color, and the color of her backpack, which is hanging in the hallway of the private school, housed in a white marble building five blocks south and four blocks east of here. Her dad is going to die within the next minute, and she will be raised in Thailand, where her mother is from, and HYDRA and chemical company and all that shit will never touch her little life again." Another faint breath. "And people stand up when they raise their blinds, fuck you very much. If you can't figure out the rest, then--"

The number on the clock no longer matters. Nor does the slant of the sunlight, though, if it would pause, visuals would be better, thus improving the success of a shot.

It's Clint that fires first, exhaling sharply and loosing his arrow the moment the target's window shade begins to rise. He's accounting for travel time, drag, the momentum lost in a collision with glass... Perhaps, as a party, they aren't as deficient in mathematics as Nat had originally thought.

Nat holds her position, counting one half-second. Two-half seconds.

Black leather belt, shiny silver buckle, white oxford over beer belly, and just the merest flash of bright pastel blue-- Nat pulls the trigger.

Once. Twice.

Then stops. Listens.

Her instinct is to empty the barrel. Overkill. Just to be sure. But that's a whole different kind of stupid, one she has to control, lest she end up on the wrong side of the system. Out of control. Mixing her alliances. Unable to stop. Committing the kind of stupid acts that create damage far, far beyond her ability to fix. Paying a dealer in the wrong currency. Swapping a piece of clothing tagged with SHIELD's contracted manufacturer's logo.

But today, Nat's able ro reign herself in. Clint usually puts a hand on her shoulder if she's on track to do too much damage. He doesn't offer the contact, though. And Nat's not sure if she'd accept it well.

It's hard to hear anything, what with the cavernous garage behind them and the bustling city out in front, but there had evidently been a smashing of glass and a direct hit to make the kill.

Nat gazes at the remains of the window for a moment, then collects her phone to record the visual evidence of the mission accomplished. The target slumps at his thick waist, torso, head, and arms hanging out the open window, his tie dangling straight down and showing impressive blood spatter.

Clint probably broke the window, at least, if not also scoring some damage to the opponent. Nat had finished him off, as evidenced by the tie and lifeless slump.

"You're actually going to send that?" Clint asks, looking at the snapshot Nat's just taken.

Nat makes a face of disgust. "It's not for my personal photo album." She creates a new message addressed to Fury, and puts Clint's name on the CC line, just for kicks. Then she adds the photo for verification of take-down. The usual 'mission accomplished' verbiage. Then a note about the hole in the concrete of the parking garage. "Misfire," Nat types.

"And I guess I'm not supposed to mention any details?" Clint raises his brow as he reads the text Nat has just copied him on.

"Oh, go to Home Depot and buy a tube of caulk." Nat rolls her eyes. and turns away. "Weekend project, right?"

"What're you going to do this weekend? You know, assuming we don't get a back-to-back." Clint asks, with just enough pointedness to his question to make it...personal. But it's difficult to tell whether he's expecting a joke or a confession for an answer.

Nat shrugs. "Sleep in. Maybe clean my bathroom." There's no reply, so she carries on. "I got one of those, like, motivational water bottles, the ones that have the lines to help you remember to hydrate all day. I don't like tap water, though, so..."

"Our fridge has a filter." It's not an invitation, exactly. Just... words. "And I might buy the kind of glue with the fumes..." They aren't looking at each other, but the flow of the words makes things fit, if not neatly, at least back together. Stupid is as stupid does, mistakes made, rescues attempted, and x most certainly = zero.

No one's better, or faster, or stronger. No one's more vulnerable, or more protective, or better than the other. They move in unison. They cancel each other out. Partners. Buddy-buddy.

Nat might walk around the block tonight collecting trophies and charms, then relaxing and slowly delighting, then riding the fairy wings that always carry her safely to sleep.

Clint will drink coffee. Maybe pop one of the stale squares of Nicorette chewing gum out of the glove box and find an album that reminds him of community college and meeting his wife and not...trauma. He'll ask Laura to join him for intense yet brief shower sex, that will only be a little rushed, due to the need to listen for the baby monitor.

Clint will volunteer for kid duty. He'll watch Laura sleep for a few minutes, then pull out his phone before bedding down himself. 9:30, he'll decide. The kids and the dog and the cereal and the legos will all be running at full force in his world. And people like them, Earth's mightiest heroes, aren't necessarily programmed to run by the hours of the clock. But 9:30 seems reasonable, Clint thinks, for a friendly check-in.

Nat probably won't have set herself an alarm the previous night. Her ringer might not be on, either. But Clint has options. Text. Call. Video Chat.

Maybe he will offer to take her to Home Depot. Not to fix that stupid hole in the ceiling of the parking garage, though.

That's technically the job of City Works, but Clint thinks perhaps Tony Stark would enjoy the opportunity to hover in midair whilst applying nuclear-force caulk in an unfortunately phallic shaped airtight container to a concrete hole roughly the size of one's pinky finger.

No. After examining the hardware on her faucet, Clint will take Nat into town and buy her a water filter attachment. A gag gift, if anything, but he wants her to have one. Clint doubts the project will require glue; socket wrenches are more likely, and maybe a screwdriver, or some washers... But they'll hit up the adhesives aisle and pick something out. Even if it turns out to be extraneous.

Stupid? Who cares. Life goes on anyway.

[craziness2345]

New Kid

A/N okay so let me know what you guys think of this please. I dont really have any warnings in this one so you're all good this will be a wandanat/Reader fanfic and this is a series i'm starting i dont know how many chapters i'm doing but i am already working on chapter 2.

Chapter One

Life and death is a beautiful love story in many eyes. Life would always give gifts to death and death would cherish these gifts. Life always knew how to show death love and didn’t care how he looked because she loved death for what was inside. It’s a beautiful and tragic love story.

I let out a frustrated noise staring at the laptop unsure what else to write on my blog as music plays through my earbuds. Rubbing my face I shut it glancing at the time realizing how late I am eyes widening “ shit” I curse under my breath packing it away and putting my earbuds away. Running out of the small little cafe I ran out onto the busy streets of New York. Heading in the direction of the avengers tower already knowing how mad Fury’s gonna be with me for how late i am. 

Running in with my bag in hand I stop inside catching my breath showing my shield badge before they even make a comment as I get into the elevator clicking on the floor I was told I lean back against it, eyes shut already knowing I'm ruining my first impression with everyone. Getting out of the elevator I quickly fix myself checking to make sure my flannel is buttoned correctly before opening up the meeting room seeing a bunch of eyes turn to me. “ Ah agent L/N nice for you to join us” Fury says as i give a sheepish smile “ sorry sir i lost track of time ” i admit sheepishly as he rolls his eyes.  He turns back to the group at the table “ Everyone this is your new recruit Agent Y/N L/N” Fury states as I awkwardly wave. Tony frowns leaning forward “ I didn’t know we were adding to the team Nick I mean no offense kid but you look 17” he says as i roll my eyes “ i’m 24 Stark “ I comment as tony raises an eye “ Really?” He comments surprised.

Fury clears his throat “ Agent L/N has been apart of the shield program since she was 10 learning to control her powers and then became an agent at 16 she's very well capable of being apart of the team especially with her invisibility and heat vision she’ll be a good asset to the team.” Fury states as Tony's eyes grow wide in excitement “ Wait you have heat vision! Oh man you are so showing us how that works” He says excitedly as i blink nodding slowly” Uh okay? “ I comment “ really Stark can you ever be not childish”  hearing a very beautiful angelic voice speak up next causes my eyes to turn to two very beautiful redheads instantly knowing them as the scarlet witch and black widow. “ I’m just saying it’s pretty cool you gotta admit beams shooting from your eyes I’m sorry i find it interesting Nat” Tony says back.

Nick shakes his head as he clears his throat silencing the bickering “ She’s gonna live here on Romanoff and maximoffs floor now I have to go. Make her feel welcomed “ he states before leaving as Steve stands up “ Well it's nice to meet you i'm steve and this is my boyfriend bucky we have to go on a mission but when we get back we’ll get to know you more” Steve says before shaking my hand and leaving. I turn to the rest “ I’m natasha and this is my fiance wanda and sister Yelena and her girlfriend kate” I smile in greeting “ it’s nice to meet you all i already know who you guys are i read your’re files before i came here” I admit sheepishly as nat raises an eye “  well let nat and i show you around and to your room” Wanda says excitedly as i nod “ That works it was wonderful meeting you guys” I comment noticing we were missing a few more of the avengers shrugging off. I turn to them and nod “ lead the way” . I comment as Natasha and Wanda walk out holding hands I follow behind in an instant.

I couldn’t get over how beautiful they were, quickly shaking my head from those thoughts knowing how wrong they were when they're both together and not wanting to ruin this opportunity for myself.  “ So Y/N this is the floor we all came out of it’s for meetings. Now this room down the hall is the dining room. We normally all eat together here. It's in Tony’s words a bonding experience "Wanda says as we get into the elevator. The next hour i get dragged around being shown around and finally going to our floor” and this is our floor kate and Yelena live here to but they normally stay at their apartment and carol room is on this floor as well but shes out on a mission in space so it’s mainly just us your room is across from ours so if ever you need anything don’t hesitate to ask us and if you can’t find us just ask friday” she says i nod slowly already being told about the ai in the building i clear my throat “ Okay well thank you i’ll head in and get settled then” I say.

Wanda nods at me while Natasha stays quiet. I couldn't tell if she didn’t trust me or what but yet again i didn’t blame her I am new out of the blue. I thank them before heading into my room letting out a sigh i look around it grinning at the fact i had my own bathroom and bed something i never had in shield having to always share with all the other agents in the program i set my bag down and plop on the bed laying my arms out i grin in excitement not believing the fact i was really apart of the avengers all my hard work finally paid off. Relaxing into the bed my  mind drifts off as sleep starts taking over falling into sleep.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart beat rings in my ears as I control my breathing, my knees against my chest trying to calm down as the tears stream down my face staring at what once was my home now completely gone burn marks on the ground. Hearing the leaves crunch behind me i instantly turn invisible seeing a tall black figure walk out” I’m not here to hurt you i know this was an accident i’m here to offer you a safe place to control this “ says a rough but soft voice hesitating i slowly show myself his eyes meeting mine he kneels in front of me slowly offering his hand” it wasn't your fault come with me” he says softly i slowly grab his hand as he lets a soft smile grace his lips he helps me up

“Miss L/N miss maximoff wants to know if you're joining them for dinner” I open my eyes quickly caught off guard from my dream more like memory nodding i clear my throat sitting up” Uh yes friday go ahead and confirm that with her” I say stretching i get out of bed and head into the bathroom to take a quick shower before then to clear my thoughts.

Walking out I open up my bag making note to go shopping tomorrow before throwing on my sweatpants and oversized green day shirt. Heading out of the room I recounted how to get to the dining room before heading in the direction I remember Nat and Wanda showed me. Walking in I see it's just Natasha and Wanda in the kitchen glancing around curiously “ where’s everyone else? “ i raise an eye as wanda turns around from her pan grinning “ you came! And They're all either on a mission or out” She says “ It’s just nat and I is that a problem? She questions tilting her head slightly and I quickly shake my head “ Oh! No no I was just curious” I say quickly as she nods and sends you a smile turning away as Natasha looks at me “ well go ahead and sit down we’ll bring the food out wands made paprikash'' Natasha comments my eyes widen and nod “ oh sweet i haven’t had that dish in awhile it's so good” I comment excited which catches wanda off guard “ You’ve had it? “ She asks as i nod” Yep i had it when i was in sokovia i was apart of the relief team well uh my parents were a nice old lady had made it for us “ I smile at the memory as wanda looks at me in awe at that “ wow well then you’ll love my dish” she grins causing me to smile” can’t wait “ i comment “ it smells delicious “ i compliment causing her to blush slightly catching me by surprise I don’t think to much into it as i head to the table sitting down.

After 15 minutes Wanda and Natasha come out, Natasha handing me a plate as Wanda sets the pan in the middle of the table before they both sit down across from me. I make my plate and grab my fork taking a bite. I widen my eyes. “ This is so good, better than how I remembered it “ I compliment continuing to eat quite fast. Something i’ve always done” Thank you so tell us Y/N what made you join shield especially at such a young age” Wanda asks curiously i hum setting my fork down and shrug “ Honestly it was either join shield or live on the streets I have so much to thank fury for i mean he’s the person you brought me in and believed in me when i didn’t “ i comment shrugging my mind going back to the memory” because of him i can control my heat vision where i don’t have to wear the stupid glasses they made for me “ i comment as wanda and natasha listen. “ Well i can’t wait to see how good you are on the mats” Natasha smirks causing my eyes to widen” wait i have to fight the black widow” I say shocked and kinda scared as nat nods wanda giggling” Yep i’ll be hand to hand combat training every morning “ Natasha smirks as i groan 

“ Great i get to entertain everyone by getting my ass beat every morning by the black widow” I grumble as they laugh for the next hour we sit at the table talking about anything and everything it was honestly nice i’ve never had such a fun time with someone let alone relaxed  With people especially now that Natasha was being a bit more relaxed with me as well.clearing my throat i stand up “ well it’s getting late imma head to bed but i enjoyed tonight thank you for making me feel welcomed” I comment wanda standing up nat nods” I think we're all gonna get along well” Nat says with a weird glint in her eyes but i don’t think to into it as i agree with them before heading to bed. Laying down I recap my day with everyone and smile to myself. I try to stay awake scared to have that dream again, hating having to remember that moment. I try to fight the sleep but not long enough exhaustion takes over and I end up falling asleep.