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hard-core-super-star · 2 months ago

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push me on the counter, call me princess [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

warnings: PURE SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> mentions of cheating! [no actual cheating, though! wandanat have an agreement, R doesn't know about it until things get spicy]; mommy + daddy kink; nipple play; impact play; wanda using her powers to hold R down; fingering [R receiving]; oral [Nat receiving]; twinges of humiliation; degradation + praise; nat's a little mean but we love her for it; use of the term 'slut'; probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: so...i'm technically not doing anything official for kinktober this year because school is kicking my butt already BUT i have a few ideas for some very filthy smut fics so i'll be posting them this month. i haven't written for wandanat in a minute so i hope i did them justice. please let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

That's what you told Wanda when she pushed you against the farthest wall in some dingy, badly-lit, New York bar.

The two of you had come back from a long, draining, mission and, instead of staying at the Compound and actually resting, you decided to go out and get drunk to let off some steam. The mission had technically been a success, but it had also been a pain in the ass...and in the shoulder, thanks to the knife wound you'd received.

So, yeah, maybe going out wasn't the best idea in the first place.

In your defense, it was borderline impossible to say no to the witch. Mainly because she was very convincing when she wanted to be, but also because of your massive, and borderline ridiculous, crush on her.

To make matters worse, Wanda was pissed off at Natasha for...something and you ended up taking the place of a supportive partner.

It would have been fine had the drinks in your system not made your inhibitions lower significantly, which rendered you helpless against the green-eyed woman of your dreams. Then again, it's not like you were particularly against that idea in the first place.

Maybe that made you a horrible person.

Maybe that made Wanda a monster.

But how could she be one when she whispered the sweetest words in your ear while taking you over the edge and destroying you in the most pleasurable of ways? How could there be anything wrong about her soft caresses and gentle smiles?

A part of you knows the answer. It's wrong because the witch's heart isn't yours. Or worse, because someone else's heart belongs to the witch.

Because for all their problems and arguments, Wanda and Natasha love each other. At the very least, they tolerate each other enough to stay together.

And you don't fit into their relationship.

You shouldn't.

But Wanda isn't a person you can just ignore.

She makes that perfectly clear no less than a week after your little "mistake".

You're in the kitchen at the Compound, eating some leftovers and scrolling through your phone to keep yourself occupied, when Wanda walks in. You don't need to look at her to know she's pissed off. Her energy is way too heavy to mean anything else.

"Hey, Wands," you say, barely looking up from your phone out of fear of falling under her spell once more.

She walks over to you, leaning against the counter and silently watching you for a second. Her silence honestly scares you, but you don't question her yet. You know better than that.

"You've been avoiding me," she says, her voice soft yet not gentle. "Why is that?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the question.

You know you can't lie to her, she's a freaking mind reader, but you can't exactly tell her the truth. You've both been trying to ignore it since the morning you woke up tangled together in her bed.

A bed she shares with someone who isn't you.

"I've been busy," you reply with a shrug. "Kate's been forcing me to train every day."

Clearly, that's the wrong answer, considering the tilt of her head.

Yup. You're fucked now.

"Is that so? I didn't realize you two were such good...friends."

Wanda pushes herself off the counter, taking slow, calculated, steps until she's standing behind you. If you weren't so focused on keeping your voice steady, you might have been able to guess what her plan in.

"Well, we both love annoying Clint and making Yelena mad."

She hums in response as her arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you back until you're firmly pressed against her.

The action almost makes you fall off your stool. You somehow stay put, though, even as every fiber of your being tells you to leave. The harsh truth is that you don't want to leave.

You want her so badly that the consequences don't seem to matter.

Nothing matters but her.

Which is exactly what she wants.

"You should be careful with the little archer," she says, her hands not so subtly caressing your sides. "You know she's just going to use you then throw you away when she's bored."

The irony in her words isn't lost on you.

You open your mouth to let her know that when her hands move up and brush against your chest. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from gasping.

"Wanda," you hiss. "We're in the middle of the kitchen."

"Relax, detka," she whispers into your ear, your body instantly obeying her words. "You know I won't let anyone see."

"Do I?" you reply. "Because it seems exactly like something you'd enjoy."

The witch chuckles despite herself. "That's true but you're not the only trying to keep things a secret."

You know her words should make you feel worse about this whole thing but right now, they only serve to turn you on. As messed up as it is, there's something exciting about the situation.

About how much Wanda wants you.

So, even though you know you should push her away, you lean back against her, allowing her hands to explore your body however she wishes.

Your obedience (if you can even call it that) is instantly rewarded by the other woman. Her hands sneak their way under your shirt, her fingers drawing teasing shapes on your warm skin as she makes the journey upward.

"You're such a good girl for me, baby," she mumbles almost absent-mindedly. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me play with you whenever I want."

A part of you wants to put up a fight. To show her you have a bigger backbone than she realizes. That you're able to switch the tables on her whenever you want.

Unfortunately, that part of you goes quiet the second her fingers find your nipples. "Look at you, all ready for me, huh?"

"Shut up," you mumble as your cheeks heat up.

Your words of defiance earn you a sharp pinch to your already sensitive nipples. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

It's impossible to stop your back from arching as the leftover sting rushes through your system. You'd learned the hard way that Wanda could either be the sweetest or the most unforgivable lover. In a way, it made being with her all the more exciting...and unpredictable.

Then again, you can't pretend you don't like it. If you didn't, you would have never gotten mixed up with her in the first place.

"Sorry," you whisper, not sounding particularly sincere.

If Wanda notices, she doesn't point it out and instead goes right back to playing with your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples as she pleases.

Her actions only serve to make you more and more desperate for her. It's almost embarrassing how good she is at reading you. At knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess.

A part of you knows it's thanks to her powers that she can read your desires so well, but you ignore the thought for now. You could beat yourself up over all this later, right now, you had a very important task ahead of you.

"You're eager today," she teases, her eyes zeroing in on the slight movement of your hips. "Did you miss me that much?"

You're not sure why you're in such a defiant mood today but your mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. "Yeah, Kate was too busy today."

You don't see the scarlet that begins to overtake her eyes since you have your back to her. You miss the warning signs until she uses her magic to bend you over the counter, keeping your hands behind your back.

"You're going to regret talking to me like that," she says, holding you down easily thanks to her magic.

It's obvious you should apologize and yet you remain as composed as you possibly can given the situation. As stupid as it is, you're still mad at her for putting you in this situation.

Out of the two of you, she was the one who was in the wrong. She was the one fucking up her relationship just because she was upset with her girlfriend. And she had the audacity to pull you down with her.

To make you like it.

You couldn't place all the blame on her and yet you did it anyway. As if that would somehow fix the entire situation.

Her hand comes down on your ass before you can make your predicament worse. The sudden sensation makes you jump, the leftover sting taking over your mind.

"Wanda." Your attempt to sound mad falls completely flat since your voice is far too breathless for it to be convincing.

She spanks you again. Once. Twice. Each time striking both harder and faster.

"Try again, detka," she tells you, her voice unforgiving. "And then maybe, I'll go easy on you."

She won't.

You know she won't. But the idea that she could is more than tantalizing enough.

Although, then again, it wasn't like you didn't enjoy calling her by her beloved title.

"Mommy," you whisper, your voice sounding way too loud in the empty kitchen.

You don't need to be looking at her to see the proud grin that takes over her features.

This is the real reason why she wants you. Why she likes being with you. Because she doesn't need to fight you to get you to submit to her every whim.

"Good girl." Wanda's hands toy with the waistband of your pants. "Tell me what you want."

You allow the silence to drag on for a second longer than necessary. You both know you won't deny her, you can't, but that doesn't mean you can't keep her guessing.

Maybe then she'll grow tired of you and stop using you so carelessly.

"Want you to touch me...please, mommy."

You half expect her to drag the moment out until you can't hold yourself back from begging for more. For her.

She doesn't, though, because unbeknownst to you, she's playing a different kind of game with you today.

Wanda uses her powers to undress you, barely giving you a second to register just how vulnerable she's leaving you. You know no one will walk in on you two, she promised you that much, but that doesn't make it any less scary...and thrilling.

"Look at you," she coos, her fingers spreading your slick folds. "So wet and I've barely even touched you. Such a needy thing, aren't you, sweetheart?"

It's embarrassing how hard your walls clench around pure air from the mere tone of her voice. It's that intoxicating mix between degrading and sweet that you want everything she's willing to give you.

"Yes, mommy," you whimper.

"Oh, I know," she says, pushing the tip of her index finger into your tight cunt. "She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but her powers hold you down and stop you from turning to look at her. Your question is answered before you can even ask it, though, as a certain pair of black boots make their way into your field of vision.

"I'm not sure." The sound of Natasha's voice sends a shiver down her spine. "She looks like a desperate slut to me."

Wanda stops you from answering, thanks to her powers. "Oh, come on, Nat, don't be mean. Look how eager she is to be played with."

The redhead rolls her eyes. "That just proves my point."

The witch laughs, taking the moment to sink her finger deeper into your pussy, relishing the wet sounds that fill the kitchen. You're more than a little humiliated, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. Worse, there's nothing you can do to deny how wet the situation is making you.

How desperate you are for more.

Wanda knows. Of course, she knows. It's partly because of her powers and partly because she knows your body far too well. And because she knows you so well, she gives you a chance to call the whole thing off before it even truly starts.

"What's your color, y/n?"

It would be so easy to say "red" and stop everything. You know there would be zero judgement. That despite whatever agreement they've come to, they'd both take a step back and make sure you were okay.

And yet...you can't seem to form the word.

Because, as much as you don't want to admit it...you want this.

"Green..." you whisper.

Wanda leans in, taking your mind off of Natasha's eyes on you, and peppers soft kisses across your back. The softness of her lips is a stark contrast to her previous demeanor and it helps calm down your speeding nerves.

The Russian steps forward, her hand cupping your face and gently tilting it backward until your eyes meet. "You want this, don't you, darling?"

You don't want to admit it but you can't bring yourself to lie to her. "Yes...I want this."

The sharpness in her eyes fades away slightly. There's still an edge of annoyance in her features but she looks almost as turned on as you feel. "Good girl."

Your walls clench around Wanda's finger and she chuckles before starting to move in and out of your tight heat. "I think she likes you, Nat."

"Shut up."

Wanda adds another finger into the mix, expertly stretching you out and drawing out a long moan from your parted lips. "That's it, just give in, sweetheart. Doesn't it feel better when you stop thinking so much?"

It's startling how right she is.

She doesn't wait for an answer this time, though, she simply speeds up her movements, curling her fingers in the way that drives you crazy. The pleasure slowly overwhelms your mind, removing all other thoughts until all you can focus on is how good it all feels. How much you like submitting to them like this.

"Mommy..." You whine, watching the way Natasha's eyes darken in response to your sounds. "Please...need more."

"Aw, are two fingers not enough for you, baby?" The fake pity in her tone turns you on more than it should. "Does your greedy pussy need more?"

You nod desperately, ignoring the humiliation that lingers in your every move.

All that earns you is another laugh from Wanda and an eye roll from Natasha.

The redhead steps back from you, causing you to whimper, before her hands move to her belt. Her eyes remain on yours as she starts removing her garments, slowly revealing the red strap-on resting between her legs.

Your lips part almost instantly once you catch sight of the full size of it and just how incredibly dominant it makes Natasha look. You shouldn't be surprised considering what everyone, including Wanda, always say about her. Then again, seeing is believing.

"So fucking eager, aren't you?" You know the Russian is technically making fun of you, but you can't help feeling a bit proud of yourself for the grin on her face.

She steps forward, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair and guide you forward. There's something weirdly soft about her movements, about the way she takes her time with you. Maybe, just maybe, she likes you more than she's let on.

You wrap your lips around the head of the dildo, your eyes glued to Natasha's face. You can see the flecks of pleasure spreading across her features, the way she clenches her jaw to stop herself from vocalizing it. It's like you're stuck in a far too arousing competition with her. Each of you trying your damn harderst to break the other.

Unfortunately for you, you also have Wanda working behind you, her fingers restlessly pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. She knows exactly how to wind you up.

Exactly how to keep you on your toes yet wanting more.

Natasha guides you further down her cock, working the length deeper into your mouth. "You look so much better like this, malyshka."

"I told you," Wanda pipes up, choosing that exact moment to work another finger into your tight heat. "You just wanted to be a party pooper."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next, Maximoff."

"You're no fun."

You've never heard Wanda like this. So pouty and borderline bratty. It's a stark contrast to the dominant woman you've grown so attached to. To the one that turns your brain to putty with just a few words.

"Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Mommy's still in charge here."

You moan in response, the sound muffled by the dildo currently stuffing your mouth.

"If you're Mommy," Natasha says, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Does that make me Daddy?"

You try to voice your approval for the title but neither of the women pay attention to you. They just keep talking like you're not even there, like all you are is a toy for them to play with.

"I thought you didn't like being called that."

The redhead shrugs in response. "I don't but now I'm curious."

"I think our good girl would like it."

You wait for Natasha to complain and say something about how you aren't theirs. Maybe make fun of you again for even thinking they'd ever entertain that idea.

She doesn't, though.

All she does is double her efforts as she keeps thrusting into your mouth.

The kitchen fills with the sounds of your pleasure as they both play with your needy holes.

You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each one of their well-timed thrusts. You're completely at their mercy and you love every second of their never-ending show of dominance.

Of control over you.

Wanda's movements speed up and you do your best to ask for permission to cum, knowing all too well the consequences that would await you if you forgot. It's practically impossible to speak, though, considering the way Natasha is still thrusting into your mouth, her hips grinding against the base of the dildo each time she slips the length back inside.

"I know, baby," the witch reassures you. "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

All she gets is a muffled whine in response, your body jerking forward when her thumb teases your swollen clit.

"Go ahead, darling," Natasha speaks up, her voice practically a low growl. "Cum all over Mommy's fingers for me."

You're not used to receiving such a command from the redhead and yet your body reacts immediatly to her tone. Your whole body seems to come alive as you fall over the edge, Wanda's fingers never ceasing in their movements. She expertly draws out your pleasure until you're left shaking and panting.

The ringing in your ears doesn't allow you to hear the string of moans that leave Natasha's mouth as she watches the scene. The sight of you coming undone so violently causes her to fall apart, her fingers tightening in your hair until you're sputtering for air.

Thankfully, Wanda knows your limits well.

No words are exchanged as she uses her magic on you again. You're barely coherent, your mind still too muddled by pure pleasure and the cotton-filled haze of submission.

She gently sets you down on the couch, wiping down your soaked skin with a wet cloth, making sure to look you over in case their rough movements bruised you up.

"You okay, darling?" The witch asks as she settles down next to you.

You nod in response, shifting a little until your head rests in her lap. "Yeah...just tired."

"You should get some rest, detka. We have a lot to talk about."

Her words make you laugh. "That's an understament, Wands."

"Whatever." She moves her hand down to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as sleep overcomes you.

There's a lot you don't understand, a lot you really figure out, but you feel safe with the knowledge that you haven't ruined anything. That you're not an intruder in their relationship. If anything, you're a welcome addition.

#wandanat x reader #kinktober 2024 #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda #avengers fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu imagine #wlw fic #writing

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judesmoonbeauty · 6 days ago

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𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: 𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

CW: ☾. Violence ☾. Brief mentions of castration ☾. Habitual use of the phrase, "that/the woman." (Just in case some are sensitive to this phrasing).

Average daily life, time that flows peacefully, without a single blemish.

Something like that is as distant as the moon is from me.

Battered Man: Drop dead, Jude Jazza……!

Being attacked on the street in the middle of the night, is so damn common it’s no longer funny.

Before the knife could reach me, I kicked the man and broke his jaw…

Battered Man: Gah…..

As the man fell to the ground, blood gushed out from his nose and sprayed everywhere.

Jude: Ain’t no way I’m gonna be done in by some shitty, cowardly lil’ nobody like ya.

Battered Man: My business is ruined because of YOU…..

Jude: On the surface, it looked like ya ran a respectable pharmaceutical company. But…..

Jude: Ya were sellin’ some pretty dangerous stuff behind closed doors.

Battered Man: W-well….thats….

Jude: Ha, mister yer face’s so pale, that its pitifulness’s undeniable proof.

Jude: Ellis.

Ellis: Should I have him castrated and thrown into the lab as well? [1]

[1] 去勢 Kyosei can mean castration/emasculation/enervation/taming. Ellis could saying: “Do you want me to subdue...." However, in this previous event, Jude has a bunch of guys castrated by a black market surgeon prior to being sent to work. So, I opted for castrating instead of subdued.

Jude: If ya already know, then don’t ask.

Ellis: Okay, got it. If that’s what makes you happy Jude.

Battered Man: D-d-damn it…….ahhh!?

In a final attempt, the man raised his knife, but screams rang out when I stepped on his hand and broke it.

Jude: Oh, that’s feels good. All shitty people should be dropped in hell ‘n left to rot.

I left Ellis with the clean up and lit a cigarette.

The exhaled purple smoke rose into sky, coming into view of the full moon.

(….Ah, figured it was full moon ‘cause it’s so bright out.)

(Still, the moon’s so huge it’s gratin’. ….How annoyin’.)

I hate the moon.

It shines so irritatingly bright - it won’t let me forget the things I want to forget.

Even though I want to look away, instead I look up in disgust.

I exhaled more purple smoke, like it would expel these jagged feelings.

Then under the moonlight, I noticed a woman who was standing there just like me.

(Postwoman……?)

The woman looked up at the moon,

Postwoman: ….Okay, let’s give it our all tomorrow too.

Her lips etched into a soft smile, as if looking forward to tomorrow.

Then using the moonlight as her guide, she left the darkness of the back street.

(Workin’ ‘til late hours, ‘n yet bein’ weirdly optimistic, she’s suspiciously good natured…...huh.)

I wonder when I started to feel irritated with soft, and pure things.

Was it when I realized they were the ideal prey for malice and murderous intent, and can be easily trampled on?

There’s so many things in this world you’re best not getting involved with, or coming to know about.

The woman who followed the moonlight vanished, and was no longer there.

Those who live can live a carefree life, should live a carefree life.

I had complete forgotten about that night.

Until, a woman wandered into the darkness —

William: Well, if it isn’t the little robin I met this afternoon!

Kate: I…What?

As she stood there covered in blood spatter, she seemed somewhat familiar.

(That postwoman…..?)

The only thing I remember is her profile while looking up at the moon, but the more I look, the more my memories of that night pile up.

(What’s she doin’ here?)

From what was said, it seems that she was delivering mail when she carelessly wandered onto the scene.

(She ran into Crown by chance. How unlucky can she get?)

Harrison: What should we do, Will?

William: We should take her with us, of course — to the “Palace’s Reaper”.

Crown’s existence is a secret, and those who become aware of its existence are killed off.

Especially if you’ve witnessed an execution.

In other words, this woman can’t escape her death sentence.

Jude: Tch…..that’s why I toldja to lock the damn door!

The woman’s body trembled with anxiety as I clicked my tongue.

William: Come here, pitiful robin.

And thus, the woman was disposed of by Crown, the end.

— Apparently, it didn’t go that way.

At the whim of that shitty crackpot of a Queen’s aide, Victor, the woman called Kate was established as a “fairytale keeper.”

It was decided that she’d spend one month together with us.

(Whaddya mean, “fairytale keeper,” how stupid.)

It’s sounds good, but she was forced into a contract of being monitored while she worked.

(Ain’t right to bind someone to an agreement simply ‘cause they accidentally witnessed an murder.)

Jude: Tch….Revoltin’.

Victor: Oh, don’t be like that Jude. You’ll have to look after her too.

Jude: Not a chance. What in the blazes ya thinkin', abusin' Her Majesty's power by kidnappin' this nobody?

As I glared at Victor, the gaze of the woman called Kate pierced me……

Kate: Thank you so much, Master Jude.

(Whatcha talkin’ to me so easily to for?)

Jude: Poor thing, gettin' kidnapped 'n forced to come here. Want me to rescue ya?

When I mockingly asked about the situation she couldn’t run from,

Kate: …Really? You’d do that?

The eyes of the woman in front of me, widened slightly with hope.

(What’s with those sparklin’ eyes?)

Jude: Obviously, I’m jokin’! What the hell’d ya get ya hopes up for, ya dimwit?

The woman’s eyes darkened, as if her fragile hope had been shattered.

(Can’t leave this place for a month ‘n it’s all ‘cause ya agreed to it.)

— Everything here now, is nauseating.

Jude: We won't have a problem long as ya work hard. Yer only other option's to run 'n get killed, o'course.

I replied coldly, turned my back and took my leave.

(The hell’s with those guys, they’re all so shitty.)

(Why’m I so frustrated at how ridiculous it is?)

The moment I took out a cigarette to light it, to hide my frustration,

Jude: …….

I spotted the moon outside the window.

The moon was shining so irritatingly bright tonight as well……

(…Ah, that’s right.)

(That woman’s sparklin’ eyes)

???: Hey — promise me something. When you get rich, take me to the moon. [2]

[2] It is not clear if “???” is speaking in the same accent as Jude. Hence, I’ll leave this written as proper English until further clarified.

(Is similar to their eyes.) [3]

[3] No pronouns are being used. Simply あいつ “aitsu” - she/he/them. No doubt it’s intentional.

Jude: ….Tch, so disgustin’.

Turning from the moon, I lit the cigarette.

There’s so many things in this world you’re best not getting involved with, or coming to know about.

And yet, the woman who used the moon as her guide, stumbled into darkness.

(If ya can live a carefree life, then ya should live a carefree life.)

(That’s why)

Jude: ……Get outta here quick, princess.

[Main Story Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

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#ikevil translations #cybird translations #ikevil jude #jude jazza #jude jazza translations #Jude Jazza Route #ikevil #ikemen villains

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novemberheart · 4 months ago

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Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

{overview} You need someplace to stay- and fast. Luckily your aunt Kate knows the perfect place for you. Only problem is you’ll have four other roommates, who are all dating each other?

{warnings} polyamory/poly141 x fem reader, chapter story, inaccuracies all around, cursing, future smut and suggestive language, reader is inexperienced when it comes to relationships but age is not specified, appearance of reader not specified, some slow burns, some quick burns, angst, drama

“John, when you have a moment I’d like to speak to you,” Laswell requested, sticking her head into the Captain's office. A few playful gasps and ‘what’d you do now’ spread through his office. With a groan he pulled his heavy body to its feet, the weight of the world on his shoulders. His gaze quickly caught Simon’s who gave him a knowing stare. John followed Laswell to her office- which was conveniently situated across from his. “I have a favor.” She continued, plopping a pile of folders onto her already crowded desk.

Cue another grown.

“We just got back, Kate. The boys have hardly slept. Kyle has lost about ten pounds. Simon is still getting over a knife to the shoulder��-

“Calm down mother hen.” Laswell interrupted. John tsked, but realized his own antics were bordering on the tease. “You don’t have to do anything.” She paused for a moment. “Well, you almost have to do nothing.”

The Captain raised his eyebrow.

“I have a niece who needs a place to stay. You still have that empty bedroom right?”

His first instinct is to lie. The last thing he and the boys needed was an interloper- a pest in their home. They spend so much time hiding that the thought of doing it in their home, a place that is decorated so thoroughly with each of them sounds almost torturous.

“Please don’t lie, John,” Kate spoke up. “She a good girl. She’s trying to move up in her job but it’s taking some time. The only places she can afford are in rough neighborhoods and quite frankly I’m worried for her. So is her mother because she calls me about twice a day to check on her.” An airy laugh left Kate, which she quickly shook off. “I go back to the States in two weeks and I would really like to have her set up and safe before I leave. It’s only temporary- two months at the most till she can get a down payment on an apartment.”

“I don’t know how the boy’ll feel about it.” Price finally spoke. Kate nodded her head in understanding.

“She’s a modern woman if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kate said slowly.

“How about we meet her first? Give us a few days to adjust being back home, then maybe we can go out for lunch or something. If the boys’ll agree on it.” John offered. Kate sighed, hoping this meeting would’ve resulted in a bit more of a clear outcome. Nevertheless, she nodded her head, as quiet agreement escaped her lips.

“Deal.”

“Anything important?” Simon hummed as the Captain stepped back through the door.

“Yes actually and it involves all of us.” At this, the boys quickly tossed the things they were working on, onto the coffee table. John cleared his throat, taking a seat next to Simon. It was a small noise- one that John wasn’t even aware he had made, yet it caused each of their backs to straighten at the underlying authority present in the small act. “Kate was hoping her niece could stay with us for a while, two months at the most, while she looks for a place to live.” John looked around the room, trying to get a grasp as to what they were thinking. ‘Unreadable’ was the first thing that came to mind. Suddenly Johnnys' lips curled up into a smirk.

“You have a picture?” The Scotsman questioned.

“No, mate.” Kyle scolded, before the rest could roll their eyes. “Not everyone was put on this earth to be eye candy for ya.’”

“You were.” Johnny shot back without missing a beat. Kyle nearly smiled but pulled his lips into a tight line, his knee nudging Johnny.

“Why does she need to leave?” Kyle asked. Always the voice of reason.

“Safety reasons. Lives in a bad area.” John explained. That softened them. “I suggested we meet her first, she’ll probably put her best foot forward- but we should be able to tell if she’d be a good fit or not.”

“I think we should just give ‘er the keys.” Johnny piqued up again.

“Oh really.” Simon muttered from across the coffee table.

“Yeah. I mean we risk our lives for strangers everyday out there. At least with this, we could help someone out without having to do much.”

“You just want a date Mactavish.” Kyle sighed from next to him, sliding down in his seat. The corner of John’s eyes lifted in a slight smile before he stood up and returned to his desk.

“I’ll have Laswell send her our address, so we can meet her.”

“So it is a date.” Johnny chirped.

If it wasn’t for the checkpoint to get in you wouldn’t have known it was military housing. Kate drove you both in. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel feeding off of your own nerves. Never ending rows of brick houses lined both sides of the street. There were lots of trees- which you were happy about. The houses varied in size from small townhouses to big houses with fenced-in backyards. One street even led down to a nice apartment building.

“I’ve driven past here before and never knew all these houses were back here.” You broke the silence.

“The trees hide them well- and the fog.” She smiled, not taking her eyes off the street. Each house was decorated with various flags out front- most of them being a Union Jack. She finally turned down a street, one that seemed narrower than the others. There were no houses across the street, just a large green field. A family and their dog playing in the neatly trimmed grass. The trees surrounding the area made the air fresh and your lungs felt lighter with every deep breath. Even though it wasn’t raining your nose could imagine the smell of wet earth. You shut the car door.

“There’s a nice walking path down that way.” Kate nodded her head towards the tree line. You followed her up onto the sidewalk, wondering which house she was going to head towards. It was the third one from the end. It looked like all the others but something set it apart. The outside of the house was spotless, like each brick had been hand scrubbed. The bushes and trees were neatly trimmed and there were even some potted plants you could see from on the porch.

You inspected each car in the driveway. Two trucks, one a shiny black, so large you could see it no matter where you stood. The second truck looked more like a fixer upper. It was older, painted a nice brown and beige- well loved. Behind the black truck was a just as sleek, black, shiny muscle car, that you’re sure the neighbors love hearing in the early mornings. Next to it was a banged-up, red, 4-runner geared up like it was ready to take off into the mountains at the drop of a hat.

You wondered how reflective each car was of each man.

Kate rang the doorbell. “Don’t worry.” She whispered to you over her shoulder. You were in fact worried. Very worried. It felt like all of your job interviews and presentations rolled into one. Your heartbeat only had the chance to beat 15 times before the door opened. Your insides shriveled as one of your worst fears came to light.

He was handsome- very handsome. Boarding on pretty.

“Kyle.” Laswell greeted, at which his lips perked up into a smile.

“Calling you Kate feels too informal.” He admitted. He opened the door further standing to the side to allow you both the enter. You had yet to move from your hiding spot behind Kate.

“Then don’t.” She chuckled. His head dodged around Kate to finally get a glimpse of you. His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly whipped it back on.

Your brain kicked into gear and you extended your hand with a soft introduction.

“Nice to meet you, love.” He smiled warmly taking your hand into his. He was warm and his hand held no paranoid shakes like yours.

You followed Kate into the entryway. It was plain, with an expensive-looking wooden dresser with a bowl filled with various keys and random bolts. ‘Junk bowl’ you thought mindlessly. Boots and shoes were lined neatly against the wall, making sure to avoid the rug leading into the living area. Kyle closed the door behind you.

Your eyes racked up and down his form. You knew he would be fit for his line of work, but you didn’t picture someone so carefully carved out of marble.

“Do I need to take off my shoes?” You questioned.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. We usually just keep our work boots here.” He explained. He extended his arm forward, silently guiding you further into the house. Just through the entryway was another hallway and the stairs, but Kate led you to the left into the living area.

The house was beautiful. It was a mismatch of styles but they all somehow charmingly complimented each other. The furniture was rustic. Brown leather couches, chairs, and everything from the TV stand to the coffee table was constructed from wood. The decor was more modern- but not in a cold grey and white way. There were lots of dark greens and blues. Plants were scattered around the home, making the air inside just as fresh as outside. Various pictures hung up on the wall all sketched from charcoal. You weren’t close enough to see what they were about.

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered over your shoulder. It was a home. It’s been a long time since you’ve got to experience one.

“Thanks. Cap’ is picky about where he sits so he picks out all the sitting furniture. Simon woodworks in his free time so he built almost everything you see here. ‘Tavish is the artist.” He explained, his tender gaze following yours as he took in his own home. He could feel his chest swell.

“You must be the green thumb?” You hummed. The quirk on his lips remained as he nodded his head.

“And the one who makes everything look nice.” He muttered, sending a small wink your way. “Just through the arch is the kitchen.” Kyle continued, taking the lead away from Kate. When you spoke to Kate it sounded as though this was just a meeting. Yet the way Kyle spoke and smiled at you made you feel as though you had already been voted in.

The kitchen was nice. Dark oak cabinets pushed up against the wall with light granite countertops. There was a small island with just enough room for two stools and a sink. It was clean- like the rest of the house. Everything had a place, even the fruit bowl on the counter and the tea kettle on the stovetop. Kyle turned to the right.

“And just across the hall we have the dinning room.” He lit up a bit as he crossed the hall into the room. Two men were sitting at the table. Both big and commanding in size.

“Hi.” You spoke first- a trained reaction.

“Hey, Bonnie!” You nearly jumped again at the enthusiasm. He was sitting closest to you and he reached for your hand before you could hold it out for a greeting. “John Mactavish- but you can call me Johnny.” You wondered if every man in this house had overwhelming smiles.

“Nice to meet you.” You returned his greeting with a repeat of your name. He plopped back down in his seat. The man next to him stood up. Something about him made you want to know him. He seems like the sort of person you go to when you need a shoulder to lean on . His movements were precise and swift, yet the crinkles around his eyes made your shoulders relax.

“John Price. Very nice to meet you.” It was polite and warm just like him. Your hand itched to hold his and you were disappointed when he didn’t extend it. So you extended yours. He quickly took it, his hands as calloused and as warm as you thought they’d be.

“Nice to meet you too.” You added. You quickly let go- hoping you weren’t too sweaty.

“Sit please.” He requested, gesturing to the seats across from him.

“Hello everyone.” Kate gruffed from behind you. The two men’s eyes widened quickly sputtering out an apology for ignoring her. With a playful huff, she rolled her eyes taking a seat next to you.

“We have some pastries if you want, there’s also drinks in the fridge,” John said, nodding his head towards the plate in the center of the table.

“We wouldn’t mind throwing on the kettle either,” Kyle added, sitting at the head of the table.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Kate quickly took them up on the offer grabbing something with blueberries. You grabbed a scone with the most icing. “Good.” Kate hummed between bites.

“Corner shop just outside base.” Johnny chirped. You wondered for a moment if they had bought these just for you. Well maybe not for you to eat- but maybe so you’d perceive them as caring? Or put together? You shook the thought out of your head, taking a bite of the scone. It was softer than it looked and had hint of orange. Your eyes lifted up from the scone. Each man was staring at you- not expectantly, but like one would look at zebras at the zoo. With slight wonder, but mostly curiosity. They were accessing you and you couldn’t blame them. You were asking a lot from them.

“I would like to tell you why I need to leave my apartment.” You offered, setting the scone down on a napkin. They shifted in their seats- sitting at attention. “I know this is a big ask and I would just like to say I would absolutely be happy to pay some utility or some other expense. I don’t want you to think I’m mooching off of you.”

“Don’t need to worry about that.” John spoke, quickly putting an end to any concern you have. You took a deep breath, your eyes drifting over to Johnny. His face was serious now, but his smile lines remained. You couldn’t imagine smiling so much that it would be etched into your skin. You breathed out.

“A few nights ago my apartment was broken into, during the night while I was at home.” Kyle winced, and Johnny stiffened. John remained the same. “Luckily I had bear spray and a crowbar.” You chuckled despite the heaviness in the air. “Nothing happened and they ran out fairly fast once I started screaming and swinging the crowbar around- but I just don’t feel safe anymore.”

“Of course.” John affirmed after you. “I’m happy you were able to react. Sometimes in those situations, people freeze.”

It was small but it was the validation you needed to hear.

“Thank you.” You said softly. “This wasn’t the first time it had happened. My place has been broken into two other times, this was just the first time it had happened while I was home. I’ve gone to the police but they never follow through. On top of that when I come home it’s usually dark and I’m almost surprised when I make it home.” Your head turned towards Laswell who nodded at you to go on. You hoped they didn’t think you were a baby. People are going through hard times all over the world. What makes you so special that you should be free from it? These men had no doubt been exposed to horrible acts, things you don’t think you could cope with hearing let alone experiencing. They’re probably thinking how entitled you are. How you should buck up and stop playing victim. You shook yourself out of your thoughts. “I‘ve been saving money for a few months but it still not enough. If I could just have about a month’s paycheck that would put me at my goal. I know it’s a big ask, but it’ll be like I’m not even here, I promise. I’m a rather boring person, unfortunately.”

They chuckled at that.

“Well, Sweetheart. I think you just landed yourself a bedroom.”

Hi friends I hope you liked this! I have 5 more chapters scheduled to post so I won't leave you hanging! Don't be afraid to say hi or come visit me on my page!

The next chapter will be posted in three days! 🤎

See you at the next chapter!

#novemberheart #birdsofafeathercod #poly141 #poly141 x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #captain john price x female reader #price x reader #john price #soap x you #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #johnny soap mactavish #kate laswell #poly141 x fem reader

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just-aake · 1 month ago

Text

Everlasting Devotion - Part VII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Warnings: light angst, comfort, fluff

Words: 5094

The atmosphere in the room feels tense, as if it’s holding its breath.

Your gaze sweeps across the council chamber, absorbing the emotions radiating from each member.

Whispers ripple through the space like a low hum of unrest, uncertainty, and, in some cases, curiosity. Some look aghast, while others lean forward, intrigued by the boldness of your proposal.

But nothing is as intense as the piercing stare you don’t need to see to feel coming from Natasha.

You resist the urge to turn toward her, focusing on the room, keeping your expression steady as the whispers grow louder.

You expected resistance, and it came swiftly.

The loud slam of Kate’s hand against the table snaps the tension like a taut string.

"Are you crazy?!" Kate’s voice breaks into the quiet.

The sound echoes through the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention.

Realizing that her outburst has earned her the gaze of every council member, she stammers, quickly realizing her mistake.

“I-I mean, this is crazy, right?” Kate continues, her voice softening to a normal volume, but the urgency remains. “We’re not seriously considering putting her through that.”

Her eyes dart around the room, seeking confirmation from the others.

Some of them shift around uncomfortably in their seats, considering her words, but it doesn’t seem like someone will speak until, finally, another voice rises from the other side of the table.

“Lady Kate is not wrong,” Councillor Ross remarks.

You catch how his eyes assess you, calculating as always, but you still feel a twinge of surprise that he is essentially coming to your defense.

His clasped hands rest calmly on the table, but you can see the gears turning behind his gaze, considering your offer.

“Lady Y/n, do you truly understand what you’re suggesting?” he asks.

The question lingers in the air, not accusing but curious.

The way he says it, it is almost like he’s intrigued by your audacity, as though he’s wondering whether you're willing to go through something so extreme just to prove your loyalty.

That shows how much he underestimates you.

“I wouldn’t have offered the idea if I didn’t mean it,” you respond evenly.

Ross’s eyes narrow slightly in observation of your resolve, but after a pause, he gives a slow, acknowledging nod.

“Then the only thing left,” he continues, his gaze flicking sideways, “would be permission for the serum’s use.”

And just like that, the attention shifts. All eyes turn to Natasha.

You feel it like a pull, that moment when you can’t avoid it anymore. Your chest tightens as you finally meet her gaze fully.

Natasha sits still as stone. The subtle, icy tension in her shoulders and jaw betrays the storm swirling beneath her otherwise calm exterior. Her hands, which rest tensely on the table before her, tighten into faint fists.

Her face remains impassive, but you easily notice the faint frown and the slight narrowing of her sharp green eyes, which shows her displeasure.

In any other situation, you’d be the first to reach for and comfort her.

But right now, you’re the one who put her in this position.

To be the one who makes the decision.

“Her majesty’s permission?” Ross repeats as if to twist the knife.

Natasha’s eyes flick to Ross briefly in irritation before locking back on you. Her gaze burns, filled with emotions—frustration, worry, reluctance.

She hates this.

You can see it in the way her fingers flex, in the tension radiating off her, as though she’s seconds away from pulling you out of this room to prevent you from going through with such a drastic plan.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, after a long, drawn-out pause, she speaks, her voice steady and controlled but laced with a subtle edge.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Her words are meant for you alone.

Her gaze searches yours, not as a queen addressing a member of the court, but as Natasha—your Natasha, the woman who cares for you more than anyone in this room.

She’s giving you an out—a way to step back from this without judgment, without consequences.

You take a breath, meeting her gaze head-on.

You could tell her that you don’t have to do this, that you could find another way to prove your loyalty.

But that would be a lie.

The truth is, you’re tired of the whispers, the sideways glances. You’re tired of the scrutiny and suspicion that follows your every move.

This is the only way to clear your name once and for all, and you both know it.

“Yes,” you reply, voice firm.

A flash of regret and resignation crosses Natasha’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

She straightens, her posture regal, and when she speaks again, it’s as Queen Natasha.

“Then let’s proceed with the serum.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A brief recess was called, giving Steve time to retrieve the serum from its secure location within the castle.

Despite the break, the tension in the room remained palpable, and you could feel the eyes of every council member on you as you waited in a corner.

When Steve returns, the weight of what will occur settles in. He pours the serum into a small cup, handing it to you with a somber expression.

The serum is bitter as you swallow it, the acrid taste lingering in your throat, making you grimace.

Steve hands you a handkerchief, offering a sympathetic nod.

“Let’s get you something to wash that down,” he says, stepping away.

You wipe your mouth with the cloth, turning slightly to hide your following words from the rest of the room.

“I don’t think it’s a good look, with you hovering this closely,” you whisper toward Natasha, who stands a short distance from you.

Even without glancing at her, you could feel her protective energy radiating across the space, her sharp gaze sweeping over anyone who dared to look your way.

Her arms are crossed, her stance rigid, a defiant shield between you and the scrutiny of the others.

“If they have a problem with where I stand, they can take it up with me,” she replies sharply.

Before you can respond, a soft voice cuts through the tension.

“Um, I kind of have a problem with where I am.” Kate, positioned in the awkward buffer zone between you and Natasha, looks sheepish as she glances between the two of you. “It feels like I’m intruding on…whatever moment this is.”

“We’re not supposed to have ‘moments,’ Kate,” you remind her, keeping your voice low.

“Right,” Kate nods in understanding. “Yelena told me about that. But if that’s the case, Natasha, maybe you should stop staring at Y/n during the meeting. I don’t think your eyes left her once.”

You stifle a small laugh, pressing the handkerchief to your mouth, as Natasha groans lightly, clearly caught off guard by the comment.

Before Natasha can respond, Steve returns with Maria, who hands you a cup of water to help wash away the bitter aftertaste.

You give her a brief nod of thanks, and Maria places a gentle hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Natasha's reaction is subtle, but you catch the tightening of her jaw and the slight frown that tugged at her lips as she watched the exchange.

Her eyes linger on Maria’s hand, but she says nothing, forcing herself to look away as she straightens.

Once you finish drinking, Kate pokes your arm, her curiosity piqued.

“So, how do we know if it’s working?”

Steve glances at you, assessing.

“It should take effect soon,” he explains before asking. “How do you feel?”

Without thinking, you respond honestly.

“Nervous,” you admit. “I’m not sure if this is the right move or if this is going to end well.”

Natasha’s gaze flicks to you with a look of slight astonishment, her usually composed expression softening for a brief second.

You glance around, noticing the others with similar reactions.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your brow furrowing in confusion.

“Nothing,” Natasha says, shaking her head slightly. “It’s just...you usually brush off questions like that with responses like ‘I’m fine’ or ‘I can handle it.’”

Your response is immediate, unguarded, and unfiltered.

“That’s because you always get worried and overprotective about me over every little thing. I don’t always need you to step in, Natasha.”

The words spill out before you realize what you had said, your eyes widening as your hand flies to your mouth.

The serum had stripped away the usual barriers between your thoughts and your speech, allowing your inner feelings to come out with no reservations.

An awkward silence follows, heavy and charged with unspoken emotions.

Natasha blinks, clearly taken aback, her usual stoic demeanor momentarily cracking as she tries to process your words.

Kate, sensing the tension, speaks up with a light tone.

“I guess the serum’s working.”

“Yeah,” Natasha mutters, her frown deepening as she glances away, clearly affected by what you’ve said.

You feel a pang of guilt, seeing the expression you’d caused.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I wanted to—”

“Let’s just finish this,” Natasha cut in, her voice tight as she moved toward the center table.

With a sigh, you follow her lead, returning to your seat.

The rest of the council members settled in as well, and once everyone was seated, Lord Sitwell wasted no time resuming his earlier line of questioning.

“How can we be sure the serum is working correctly?” he asks, skepticism dripping from his words.

You tilt your head slightly, and a sharp retort slips out before you can stop yourself.

“You’re welcome to try it yourself, Lord Sitwell. Although, we all know you prefer hiding behind words rather than action.”

Your hand flies to your mouth again, but the damage is already done.

Sitwell's face flushes with embarrassment and anger as snickers and amused murmurs spread through the room.

“You insolent—” he begins, rising from his chair.

But before he could continue, Ross’s voice cut through the tension.

“Lord Sitwell, enough." His tone is cold and final. "You’ve had your chance. This interrogation has gone on long enough without results. Sit down.”

Sitwell glares at you, but he complies, settling back into his seat with a huff.

Ross turns his attention to you, his scrutinizing stare unnerving, and for a moment, you wonder if facing Sitwell was the lesser of two evils.

“To reiterate, we’re here to determine the threat your family poses to the kingdom.” His gaze remains fixed on you as he continues. “Evidence suggests your father had a hand in the recent attack. But do you know what his true intentions were?”

You feel the weight of the council’s scrutiny again. They are waiting for the truth, whatever it might be.

Taking a deep breath, you answer.

“He wanted war. To destroy the Romanovs and Starks in retaliation for their alliance toward peace.”

Ross leans forward, placing his clasped hands on the table.

“And what about you?”

“I believe in the peace they've built," you reply firmly. “And as I’ve said, I would never want to harm Natasha or her family.

Some council members nod, seemingly reassured by your words, but Ross’s expression remains hard, unyielding.

“Lady Y/n, do you consider yourself a threat to the kingdom?”

Frowning slightly in suspicion, you hesitate, feeling the shift in his questioning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha tense, her posture rigid as she prepares for whatever is to come.

“I’m a capable individual,” you reply, keeping your voice steady. “But I’m no traitor.”

Ross nods slowly in acknowledgment, though his eyes give no reassurance.

“Raised under your father’s and Madam B’s guidance, as well as Queen Melina’s. I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from them,” he comments, his finger tapping the table lightly in consideration before continuing. “Which brings us to one of our main concerns–the possibility of replicating their actions.”

You let out a disbelieving huff, starting to protest, “I wouldn’t—”

But Ross cut you off.

“This isn’t a question about intent, but your capability,” he clarifies, his voice sharp. “Lady Y/n, do you believe you possess the knowledge to control someone?”

The truth settles heavily on your shoulders as you recall everything you’ve researched and learned about the subject.

Under the serum's influence, you couldn't lie.

“Yes,” you admit in a small whisper.

A murmur of discomfort ripples through the room.

Your hand trembles, nerves tightening in response to the shifting atmosphere. To steady yourself, you grip the edge of the table to stop the movement before anyone notices as Ross presses further.

“If it was someone else who had that knowledge, would you consider them a high-risk individual?”

“Yes,” you reply quietly, your voice barely audible.

A heavy silence falls over the room as everyone considers your answer. You try to take a moment to compose yourself when Ross suddenly shifts the focus.

“Wanda Maximoff,” he begins, causing you to tense in realization of his next subject. “From what we know so far, her abilities are clearly dangerous. She subdued an entire group in mere moments during the last incident, didn’t she?”

“She was protecting my friends,” you defend, a protective edge in your voice.

“That doesn’t change how powerful she appears to be,” Ross continues smoothly. “And it’s clear that she’s loyal to you. My question is–if, in the future, you ever disagreed with the crown, would she follow you or the will of the kingdom?”

You close your eyes briefly in dismay, the answer already on the tip of your tongue.

“She would follow me,” you confess softly.

More murmurs fill the room, the tension thickening with discomfort.

“Then wouldn’t it be reasonable to conclude that you are an even more dangerous risk?” Ross asks plainly, emphasizing his point.

Before you could respond, Kate slams her hand on the table, breaking the tension.

“This is unfair!” she exclaims. “Y/n would never do any of this!”

Ross dismisses her with a glance.

“Thank you, Lady Kate. But resentment and reasons can always form,” his gaze shifts back to you with a pointed look. “...especially when personal relationships are involved.”

You frown, seeing where this is headed.

“You're talking about my relationship with Natasha,” you say flatly.

Ross nods.

“It appears that your attempt at a deeper relationship didn’t work out in the end. Would you consider that a cause for concern?”

You scoff lightly in disbelief.

You knew he didn’t think you were an appropriate partner for Natasha, but you can’t believe he would be so insulting of the years you two have shared with each other.

“I value my friendship with Natasha,” you say firmly. “That won’t change, regardless of romantic matters.”

He fixes you with a scrutinizing gaze.

“So, if she chose someone else to be her partner, would you accept it without resentment?” he challenges.

Natasha, who had been quietly sitting with her growing frustration at the entire situation, finally had enough. She snaps at Ross in warning, her voice cutting through like steel.

“That’s inappropriate—”

“I’d accept it.”

The room falls into a stunned silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Slowly, Natasha turns her head toward you, disbelief etched across her face.

But you don’t meet her gaze, your head bowed as you continue.

“If Natasha chose to be with someone else,” you repeat, your voice steady, though your heart clenches painfully in your chest at the truth. “I’d accept it with no resentment.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You groan in frustration, pressing your palms to your temples as a dull pounding begins to throb in your head.

The aftermath of the council meeting weighed heavily on you, and the headache only made it feel worse.

How was it that you both proved that you didn’t wish to harm the kingdom while also ending up showing you were one of its biggest potential threats?

You let out a deep sigh, dropping your face into your hands, the increasing frustration bubbling inside you.

“I believe I told you about the aftereffects of the serum when I initially talked to you about it,” Melina’s voice cut through the quiet room, her tone a gentle reprimand as she placed a steaming cup on the table beside you.

The concoction was supposed to help ease the pounding in your head and alleviate the symptoms until the serum left your system.

After the council meeting finally came to an agonizing close, Steve quickly ushered you to the former Queen’s lab.

Melina had requested to examine you to ensure the serum wasn’t causing any lasting damage.

The familiar room felt safe and comforting enough, but your mind was still tangled with the meeting's aftermath.

You glance at the cup but make no immediate move to drink it. Instead, you sigh again before responding to her comment.

“I know, but I just wanted to prove to them that they’re wrong about me,” you admit before muttering under your breath. “Especially that stupid councilor.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wince.

The serum was still loosening your tongue, making you spill your thoughts unfiltered.

You can feel your cheeks heating, the embarrassment creeping in as you glance at the previous queen.

Melina raises a brow, a hint of amusement flickering across her face.

“Stupid councilor?” she echoes, her lips twitching into a smirk.

You mumble an embarrassed apology. “I’m sorry.”

Melina chuckles, her laugh a soothing contrast to the tension that had filled the council chamber earlier.

“Don’t worry. That man does have that effect on people. Persistent and annoying at times, but his heart is in the right place—he cares about the kingdom.”

You groan again, this time leaning against the arm of the chair.

“Maybe, but right now, all he and the others see is a threat,” you mutter sadly. “Not just because I’m not a suitable partner for Natasha, but because I’m a danger to everyone.

Melina’s frown deepens at your words, a look of sympathy softening her features.

“Who says you’re not suitable—”

She is interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by a familiar voice.

“Can I come in?” Natasha calls from the other side, her voice a little too casual, as if she were trying to mask her urgency.

Melina gives you a knowing look, a slight roll of her eyes following as she mutters.

“That didn’t take long.”

As soon as she opens the door, Natasha slips into the room, trying to appear nonchalant as she launches into her excuse.

“Hey, I know I’ve been too busy to come by and discuss those details about my birthday like you’ve asked, but I had some spare time and thought I would drop by now to see—”

“Save it,” Melina interrupts, crossing her arms as she levels her daughter with an unimpressed stare. “You’re not here for me.”

Natasha squints at her mother suspiciously before shifting her gaze toward you.

Her brow raises slightly in question, clearly curious about how much her mother had figured out.

You give her a sheepish smile, shrugging slightly.

“She knows we didn’t actually break up.”

Natasha hums in acknowledgment, nodding as though it all made sense now. She turns back to her mother, arms crossing defensively.

“That explains why you never came to talk to me about it.”

Melina raises a brow at her daughter, shaking her head in exasperation.

“Really, Natasha. You should already know that the only person you can fool in this family with these kinds of things is your father.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, brushing off the remark with a exasperated huff.

“Alright, then. Can I have a moment alone with Y/n now?”

Melina sighs, casting a glance between the two of you before making her way toward the door. As she passes Natasha, she points back at you.

“Make sure she drinks that,” she says, nodding toward the kettle she had placed on the table, “every now and again until the headache subsides and the serum is out of her system.”

“Okay,” Natasha agrees with a nod, her voice softer now as her concerned gaze settles on you, scanning you as if assessing the damage from both the serum and the day’s events.

Before Melina leaves, she places a firm hand on Natasha’s shoulder, offering a warning glance.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your birthday celebration. We will discuss that sooner rather than later.”

Natasha groans audibly, her shoulders sagging at the mention.

“I’ll make time for it,” she promises half-heartedly, earning a smirk from her mother.

Melina gives one final nod at you before closing the door behind her, leaving you and Natasha in the quiet of the lab.

Natasha doesn’t waste a second.

As soon as the door clicks shut, she is at your side, her fingers gently brushing against your arm.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is low, full of concern.

You sigh, leaning into her touch.

“I don’t know,” you admit, the serum still forcing you to speak more honestly than you would have liked. “That whole meeting was a disaster.”

Natasha frowns, her brows knitting together as she leans closer, her hand resting fully on your arm.

“It wasn’t all bad. You did well, considering the circumstances.”

You let your head rest against her shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in the familiar comfort of her touch before sighing.

“Did I, though?” you ask, your voice quieter now, laced with doubt. “Because it feels like I just confirmed everything they were afraid of.”

Natasha’s grip on your arm tightens just a little, her voice firm.

“You told the truth. That’s what matters.”

Her words remind you of your earlier actions, and you lift your head to meet her gaze, an apology already forming in your expression.

“I really am sorry about what I said…about you being overprotective. It came out harsher than I would have liked.”

Natasha sighs, her eyes softening as she tilts her head back, considering her actions these past weeks.

“I guess…I have been a little overprotective lately.”

“A little?” you ask, raising an amused brow.

She lets out a soft laugh.

“Fine. Excessively,” she admits.

Her voice grows softer, more vulnerable, as her gaze locks onto yours.

Natasha cups your cheek gently, her thumb brushing your skin with careful tenderness.

“But you almost died not too long ago,” her voice trembles slightly at the memory, “and then you were attacked the moment you left my side. So, yeah, I’m worried.”

Her confession hangs in the air between you, the raw emotion in her voice sending a pang of warmth through your chest.

Natasha is always so strong and composed, but here, with you, her walls are down.

You can feel the depth of her fear, her love, and her desperation to keep you safe.

Reaching up, you place your hand over hers on your cheek.

“I’m still here,” you reassure. “And I’m going to keep fighting. For the kingdom.” You tilt your head, pressing closer into her hand and giving her a soft smile.

“For you.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her eyes glistening as she searches yours, seeing the honesty and love in them.

For a moment, the room feels smaller and quieter, as if the weight of the world is suspended, leaving only the two of you in this space.

But then Natasha remembered what had been revealed towards the end of the meeting.

“You said you’d accept it if I chose someone else as my partner,” Natasha says suddenly, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Such a thought never crossed her mind, and Natasha frowns at the idea that you’ve already prepared yourself for such an unthinkable possibility.

She leans in closer, her forehead pressing against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“But I don’t want someone else.”

Her words make your heart race at the sudden reassurance.

Natasha’s eyes are steady, her hand slipping down from your cheek to take your hand, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles in a slow, comforting rhythm.

“I don’t want anyone else,” she repeats, her voice firmer this time, ensuring that you hear the seriousness in her tone.

“I just want you.”

You swallow hard, the tension in your chest loosening as the depth of her words.

Her eyes remain locked into yours, and you don’t need the serum to know she’s telling the truth.

You shake your head lightly with a fond smile.

“The charming princess always has the smoothest lines,” you tease.

Natasha smirks, leaning in closer.

“You mean Queen,” she corrects, her voice lowering.

You chuckle, your eyes briefly flicking to her lips, and before you can stop yourself, the thought slips out, unfiltered and raw.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you whisper, your cheeks immediately heating up as your eyes widen in realization at what you’ve just said aloud.

You groan, burying your face in your hands, mortified by the serum’s continued hold over your honesty.

Natasha’s laugh is soft but bright, and you shoot her a half-hearted glare from between your fingers.

She just smirks back at you, her amusement only deepening.

“Consider this payback for all the times you teased me for being unable to resist you,” she quips, her voice playful and her eyes dancing with that familiar spark you know all too well.

Despite the embarrassment, you can’t help but smile fondly at her.

Natasha’s teasing is a welcome relief, a reminder that even through the pressures of the day, there’s still room for moments like these between you.

Moments of lightness, of laughter, of…love.

Eventually, Natasha’s amused expression fades into something softer, more intimate.

She reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face. Her fingers lace with yours, the warmth of her touch sending a ripple of comfort through you.

“Teasing aside, I am happy to hear how you still want me,” she remarks softly, her voice tender and sincere.

You tilt your head slightly in confusion, puzzled by her words.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Natasha gives a small, almost self-conscious shrug, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Just my thoughts scaring me while I couldn’t see you,” she says before exhaling. ”I wondered if...maybe you’d changed your mind about us.”

Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around her neck, your fingers instinctively threading through her hair, gently playing with the soft strands—just as you’ve always done to comfort her.

“You worry too much,” you tease gently.

Natasha chuckles lightly, nodding in agreement.

“I do.”

For a moment, the two of you simply look at each other, the unspoken feelings and emotions that have been building over the past few days hanging between you.

Until Natasha can’t resist the pull of you anymore.

Slowly, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss, soft and tentative yet brimming with the emotions you’ve both held back.

It’s not rushed or hesitant; instead, it’s like a quiet promise, filled with affection and unspoken devotion.

You melt into her touch, the world around you fading as the kiss deepens.

When Natasha finally pulls back, breathless and content, her forehead gently rests against yours, a soft smile on her lips.

“That was worth waiting for,” she whispers warmly, her voice full of affection.

You return her smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Definitely,” you murmur, still feeling the lingering effects of the kiss, though a dull pounding in your head makes you wince slightly.

Natasha notices and glances at the cup of medicine Melina has left on the table. Her playful smirk fades, replaced by concern.

“You should drink that before the headache gets worse,” she says gently, her tone shifting to one of care.

With a small groan, you obediently reach for the cup. The liquid has cooled, but its bitterness still bites as you take a sip, grimacing.

Natasha watches closely, her hand resting on your arm, a quiet, reassuring presence beside you. As you continue drinking, Natasha’s posture suddenly tenses, remembering something.

Sensing something is bothering her, you glance at her curiously.

Realizing she’s been caught, Natasha clears her throat, her gaze dropping momentarily before she speaks, her voice hesitant.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

You pause mid-sip, lowering the cup slightly, giving her your full attention.

“What is it?” you ask.

Natasha takes a deep breath, her fingers tracing slow circles on the back of your hand as she carefully considers her words.

“I received a letter recently,” she begins cautiously.

You flash her a teasing grin, raising the cup back to your lips.

“Another marriage offer?”

But Natasha doesn’t react to your teasing as she usually would. Her expression remains serious and hesitant. After a moment, she decides it's best to tell you so you’d be prepared.

“Stark is set to arrive in the kingdom soon,” she reveals.

You choke on your sip, sputtering as the liquid goes down the wrong way.

Natasha's eyes widen, and she immediately pats your back, concern flooding her expression.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worry etched in her voice.

You nod weakly, still coughing as you manage to set the cup down, your mind spinning from her words.

“I’m fine,” you rasp, trying to process the information. Shaking your head lightly in disbelief, you turn your focus to Natasha. “Did you say Stark, as in Tony Stark?”

Natasha nods, her hand still resting on your back.

“Yeah, Tony Stark. He’s coming in a few weeks to discuss the peace treaty.”

At her confirmation, your thoughts race, the news triggering an alarm in your mind.

The suspicion you’d felt earlier today starts creeping back, stirring unease. You look at Natasha, anxiety building.

“Are you sure the letter said he wouldn't be here for a few weeks?” you ask, your voice tight with apprehension.

Natasha frowns, confusion in her eyes.

“Yes, why? Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, not wanting to raise more concern just yet. Shaking your head lightly, you give her a reassuring smile.

“It’s probably nothing. Thanks for telling me.”

Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, suspicion flashing in her gaze, but she lets it go, leaning her head gently against yours.

“Is the medicine helping?”

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning further into her.

“Yes, but this helps a lot more.”

Natasha wraps her arms around you, letting you rest fully against her, offering a brief moment of comfort against the growing unease inside you.

There’s no way the Tony fixing your manor is the Tony Stark. It has to be a coincidence.

You just need to make sure.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading! I’m glad to see that you all still enjoy this universe and its story.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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yelenasdiary · 11 months ago

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The Perfect Surprise

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant! Reader

Summary: Wanda and Maria surprises you with a baby shower with Nat having an extra surprise

Translations: Detka (baby),

Warnings: Slight Language Warning, Pregnancy Talk | 0.9K

AC: As always, I have used a random generator to pick the baby’s gender! I hope you enjoy this x

Waking up to the gentle soft hand of your wife rubbing your baby bump was something you quickly grew to love, every morning when Natasha would get back from the gym, she would whisper sweet things to your unborn baby which eventually would wake you. You couldn't help but smile softly as you watched her hand move up and down your stomach with care.

"Good morning darling" Natasha whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek, "Are you ready for today?" she asked. You nodded. Yesterday Maria and Wanda had told you that they planned a baby shower for you and Natasha. "Are you ready for today?" You asked Nat knowing she hated having attention put on her. She chuckled with a nod, "I also have a surprise for you today" she replied.

You tilted your head slightly, "is that so?" You questioned.

Natasha had this planned for a while, but she wasn't sure how to go about delivering the surprise so when Wanda and Maria came to her four days ago and poked her about the baby shower, she decided to give the women the scrap of torn paper the doctor gave her months ago, she never looked at it no matter how much it tempered her.

You didn't want to know the gender of your baby unless Nat wanted too so when she said she wanted to wait, you believed her. Little did you know, she had the doctor write the gender down and she's been carrying it in her purse since. She told Wanda and Maria to get creative as the gender would be a surprise for the both of you.

"What do you have planned?" You questioned when Nat just smirked and placed a kiss on your baby bump. "You'll find out later today" she said softly before pushing herself off the bed and walking into the bathroom.

----

Everybody from the Avengers to your friends and family were gathered outside at the back of the compound looking over the city of New York. Plenty of laughter and chatter filled the air as you took some time to talk to everybody who had come up to you and Natasha, congratulating you both on the next chapter of your lives.

The outdoor entertainment area was decorated with plenty of blues, pinks, yellows, greens and other gender-natural-colored items, a large board was placed near the sweet candy treats for guests to write their guesses down for what you and Nat might call the baby, the length, weight and gender and whoever would get the closest to the correct answer would win a $50 online gift card once the baby was born.

"I sure hope there isn't a knife in that box Yelena" you chucked as you watched Yelena place the gift on the table among the other gifts, "do you think so low of me? To give my niece of nephew a knife to welcome them into this world?" the blonde replied as she came up and gave you a hug.

"It's debatable" you chuckled.

"Don't worry, I made sure it wasn't a real knife" Kate inserted herself, reaching in for a hug and congratulating you. Yelena playfully rolled her eyes before listening to the small talk shared between you, Kate and Natasha.

Wanda came out carrying a rather large cake that caught your eye, watching as she placed it in the center of the table full of finger food. It was rounded, one half blue and the other half pink with a red hourglass symbol in the middle with the words "Super-She or Super-He?" On top.

"Surprise" Natasha whispered as she gently rubbed your baby bump from behind.

"I thought you said you wanted to wait" you turned to her.

"I know but we literally can't set up the nursery without knowing, it's driving you crazy" the redhead admitted. Playfully, you slapped your wife's hand, "I think I've been doing great with all the gender neutral items and colours" you replied but you couldn't deny that you were just as curious and excited to know the gender as much as Nat.

Natasha just shook her head and placed a kiss on your cheek before the two of you continued to talk with guests until Wanda got everybody's attention. "Nat, Y/n, we hope that this next chapter of your lives is everything you expect and more. Not only is your beautiful baby already so loved by the two of you, but they're loved by everybody here today. I'm not going to drag this on because I know you're eager to know little widow's gender but also because Steve is sweating that he's not giving a speech" Wanda said causing everybody to laugh at her fun at Steve who just shook his head.

"Both of you take a knife and cut into a side of the cake each" Wanda added. Excitement made your hands slightly shake as you brought the silver knife to the blue side of the cake, Nat's knife hovering over the pink side.

"Ready?" Nat looked at you with her famous smirk. You nodded, "on 3?" You asked.

"Always"

On 3 you and Nat cut into the cake, slowly Natasha pulled out her slice to relief the cake's red valet color while you slowly pulled out your slice to a blue color. "Congratulations guys!!!" Kate bursts with joy as Natasha pulls you in for a deep kiss, smiling against your lips, "we're having a boy!" You whispered, letting the news sink in. Everybody applauded and congratulated you both with the news.

"You owe me $20" Natasha chuckled, reminding you of the bet the two of you made during your second trimester. You rolled your eyes playfully before kissing her once more, "I love you so much" you whispered. Tears of happiness filling your eyes only for Nat to wipe away, "not near as much as I love you detka" she whispered in reply.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work please click HERE.

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

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mosquito-queen · 5 months ago

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kate has slept starfish in the middle of a bed since she was old enough to have her own. after kingpin, she sleeps on the floor, using the bed as a barrier between herself and the door. fresh after the fight, right after she returned from the bartons’, she briefly considered sleeping in the closet. not so tough now.

yelena sleeps like a cat: claws always out and one eye periodically cracking open. she sleeps in the hotel chair next to the window, sometimes the empty bathtub with the door locked and lights on, or not at all. always cradling a knife, a widows bite, a gun. a bed is a grave. easy picking.

but now they usually fall asleep tangled together on a couch, tucked close and sweaty in layers of blankets and dogs. a weapon on the table. there’s something about the bed that is too intimate, too vulnerable, for either of them to consider. a kind of safety that is off limits. that would surely jinx them. yelena knows feeling safe means death looms on the horizon.

kate had the rug ripped out from under her. this world of betrayal and malice snares anxiety in her chest, leaves her panting from nightmares. leaves her waiting for yelena to run. to decide the knife on the table should be buried between kate’s ribs. kate clings desperately, stubbornly. she’s always dug her fingers into the things she’s most wanted until her nail beds splintered.

yelena hasn’t known this type of devotion. she doesn’t know how to categorize the blanket of kate’s body, the lullaby of her heartbeat, the way she so readily sinks into kate. she doesn’t know how to say going to bed has become synonymous with curling into kate. that she’s made a grave in flesh and bone and warmth and mortality. that she fucked up.

she doesn’t know either how they ended up in kate’s bed. a real bed. she doesn’t remember stumbling through the door, alcohol staining her teeth and kate’s mouth full of laughter against her skin when she has to catch the archer before she falls. but they must of fallen at some point into a real bed. and then there’s kate ruining any chance yelena has at self-preservation. because she forgets herself. she forgets to keep a knife under the pillow, to keep herself in the safety of a cat nap, to keep kate at some false distance.

but kate is warm, and promising, and holding onto yelena in a way that makes her think the blip couldn’t even pry her out of this grasp. and kate doesn’t jump at shadows or misconstrue noise as an intruder when yelena is so expertly running her fingers through kate’s hair. because she knows yelena doesn’t need to sleep with a weapon to be dangerous. and yelena knows kate would follow her into oblivion. and that should be scary. a nightmare. a death warrant. but right now, in this perfect moment, in a real bed with two dogs and yelena wearing one of kate’s sweatshirts with a blanket of alcohol, their minds quiet. just enough to let them fall asleep.

and when the incessant whine of dogs wake them up and kate groggily presses a kiss to yelena’s hairline asking if she had a good night’s rest, yelena says, “i slept entire time.”

it’s in disbelief. because when has yelena ever managed to escape nightmares, or waking up on every hour, or needing to get up and pace, to check the mirrors, to check the locks? it must of been two lifetimes ago, in ohio, under a fake grandma’s scratchy quilted blanket, her head tucked beneath her sister’s chin. she repeats: “i slept entire time.”

and kate says, “huh, yeah. me too.”

#bishova #kate bishop #kate x yelena #yelena belova

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dreamlandreader · 7 months ago

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Hounds of Love

Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Eris Vanserra storms through the woods in a rage, the last thing he expects to come across is a beautiful fae who is heading right into the path of his father. Eris knows he can’t just stand by and watch this oncoming storm, but in helping this gentle soul, he may have to sacrifice more than he bargained for.

Content Warning - Parental abuse, parental illness, off screen injury caused by a dog (very briefly mentioned).

A/N: Here it is - the piece that landed me with major writers block for weeks and weeks on end and then got stalled because life got in the way! Inspired by the song Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Feyre’s encounter with the water wraith in ACOMAF✨

Part two will be out soon 💖 Hope you enjoy 💖

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

The hounds of love are hunting, I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know what’s good for me …

In the limited light of the quickly setting sun a furious male and his hounds stalked through the trees.

The bronze leaves shivered in the wake of the Autumn Court heir, who bustled past in a burning rage. Embers of fire flickered at his fingertips as he watched his hounds run wild and free with a glint of jealousy burning in his warm eyes.

Eris Vanserra was sick. Sick of his court which became more and more suffocating by the century. Sick of his title which kept him tethered to this land. Sick of his father, at whose hands he now bled.

It had become a regular routine over the years, the way his father would manipulate and berate and twist the knife until Eris could bear it no longer and his calm exterior would shatter. Beron, unimpressed by his son’s outburst, would then beat him back into submission, and Eris would take it until his father got bored. Then he would slip out into the woods with his hounds, using the space to breathe, and to prevent himself from burning the whole damn court to the ground.

As Eris stormed, the yowls of his hounds swirled around him, twigs snapping beneath their heavy paws as they ran and ran. Eris was all consumed plotting his father’s demise. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them destroyed the other, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight.

Lost in his own thoughts it took a few seconds for Eris to notice the sudden silence. The excitement of his hounds tapered off, and the only noise left was the ringing anger reverberating through his skull. A knot formed in his stomach, as he began to run in the direction of his dogs. Eris had spent centuries training his hounds, and they had a rhythm. They never once went silent unless he ordered them to. Not unless something terrible had happened to them.

Burning orange trees blurred in Eris’s peripheral vision as he ran into a dusty clearing, the fire at his fingertips warmed his hands as he prepared for a fight, but he faltered when he saw the largest hound of the pack lay flat on his back with his soft stomach bared to the skies, a slender hand scratching away at his furry tummy. Glancing up in shock, Eris was greeted with gentle laughter as a joyful fae female watched his two youngest hounds prance around her, play fighting for her undivided attention. Eyes gazing back down once more Eris tutted as he watched the usually stoic leader of the pack bury her large head into the female’s lap, snuffling into her skirts and drawing another delightful giggle from her.

“What well trained dogs I seem to have bred,” Eris spoke sharply, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

His hounds stiffened and stood to attention immediately upon hearing their masters sarcastic growl. You jumped to your feet in surprise, wiping your dusty hands on your dress, meeting Eris’s hard stare with a sheepish smile, crimson flooding your cheeks.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they were out here with anyone. Your dogs are beautiful,”

“My lady, you are lucky you still have your hands. My hounds do not usually take so kindly to strangers,” It was the truth, a few months ago a wandering merchant lost three fingers when he reached out to stroke the dogs without their permission. The fact that you stood before Eris not only whole but covered in fur from their loving affection was baffling to the Autumn Court heir.

“These dogs?” You ask skeptically, holding back a laugh, reminding Eris of the position in which he had found them.

“It appears they must have taken a liking to you my lady, a rare thing indeed,”

“I am not a lady,” you state gingerly. He should have noticed the lack of jewels, the plain dress, the absence of guards - but something about your sheer presence was so captivating that all of that had faded into the background.

“I do apologise, you will have to pardon my ignorance,” It was Eris’s turn to blush then. He prided himself on his intuition. His innate ability to size up his opponents had served him well over the centuries, allowing him to swiftly understand a person and their motives in order to stay five steps ahead of them at all times. In your enchanting presence however, Eris’s usual instincts evaded him completely.

“What may I call you then?”

“Oh right, my name is Y/N,” you reply, bashful as Eris takes your delicate hand and places a kiss upon it.

“Whilst it truly is a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I am curious to what you are doing alone in the forest so close to nightfall. You are aware of what lurks within the trees once the sun goes down, no?”

“I’m here to see the High Lord,”

Eris stiffened, so many questions flying around his mind as something thick and painful settled itself deep in his chest. Why would such a seemingly gentle being want to be anywhere near his beast of a father?

“Th-the High Lord?” was all Eris could stutter out.

“My family, we have a farm to the south, just above the border. Only for the past few years my father has been sick, and the crops have suffered greatly due to the droughts we’ve been experiencing,”

Eris’s heart cracked for you, for the pain that swam in your eyes. There was no reason he should care, he had met you a matter of moments ago, and yet a part of him ached to fix your situation.

“I would like to ask our High Lord for a reprieve on our tithe - just for six months. By then I hope and pray to the Mother to have our little farm back to the flourishing haven it once was,”

You were dead. If you got to his father and begged him for anything then you might as well sign your own death warrant. Eris had witnessed too many times the tithes that ended in bloodshed. Beron was too clever to kill anyone in a public forum, he knew it would lead to rebellion, but his spies would soon catch up with anyone who was lacking in funds and they would all mysteriously vanish. He had to do something, he couldn’t let you wander innocently to your death.

Oblivious to Eris’s internal struggle, you suddenly perked up, eyes widening,

“Oh how rude of me, here I am prattling on and I haven’t even asked how I should address you? You are dressed so finely you must be a Lord, please forgive me,” you stated, sinking into yourself as you took in his perfect appearance.

The Lord’s pristine shoes alone likely cost more than your family could scrape together in a whole year. Embarrassment tainted your good mood as you pulled your cloak tighter around your body to hide your shabby clothing.

Eris could sense the shame dripping off you, and unable to stop himself he placed a finger under your chin, and made sure your eyes met his.

“My name is Eris, but you needn’t concern yourself about formalities’ he told you “I am of little importance”.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Whilst his position in the Autumn Court provided him with the finest luxuries money could buy and any outsider could easily assume the heir had unlimited power and freedom, behind closed doors, under Beron’s harsh regime, Eris was nobody. He was liked by few and truly understood by none.

“Eris,” you say dreamily, tilting your head to truly take in the beautiful male before you.

Under your gentle gaze Eris feels a glittering warmth spread across his body, a primal rush to protect you, and then a life altering snap.

“You’re-,” he stumbles, unable to finish his sentence before you begin your own.

“Anyway I best be going,” you rush out, realising the passing time and lifting your skirts to turn. “It was terribly nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way,”

“Please don’t!” Eris blurts, gently grabbing your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to him, confusion taking over your face as he explains softly.

“The highlord, he isn’t a good male. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. If you approach him with any vulnerability he will do anything he can to manipulate you into making a deal you can’t keep, and if that doesn’t work he will just kill you,” he said, stroking a surprisingly calloused thumb down the back of your hand.

“But, maybe if I can just explain my situation to him then-”

“He won’t care, Y/N. You will die,” Eris’s eyes go dark and you know in your very soul he is telling the truth. “I just- I need you to believe me,”

“I do, it’s just-,” You faulter, breathing deeply before you continue.

“I can’t go home without this six months reprieve. We have nothing more to give. Surely if I turn up to the tithe next week empty handed he’ll just kill me anyway?”

Eris looks down at the wealth that drips from his body, and suddenly recalled the scandal that Tamlin’s ex-human had caused at the last Spring tithe. Rumours swirled far and wide of the Cursebreaker’s controversial gift to a poor wraith, and without a second thought Eris followed suit, pulling off the gold rings which covered his fingers.

“Here,” he says, shoving the pieces into your hands before he began to unclasp his cuff links.

“What, no! Eris, I can’t take this,”

“Yes, you can,” Eris insisted, moving on to his many earrings. “I will not let that beast touch you. I’m not in a position to offer you safety, but please let me give you some help,”

You nodded, frozen in shock, and watched as Eris filled your hands with rubies, opals and orange sapphires all set in the finest metals money could buy. Finally he takes out a fine leather pouch filled with gold coins and helps you to gently stuff the rest of his riches inside. Once the pouch is fit for bursting he removes his fur lined cloak and tells you to swap it for your own threadbare one.

Looking you once over, Eris swallowed down his instinct to press his lips against yours, knowing his relentless father would never allow for his eldest child, his heir, to be mated to a peasant.

Collecting himself, Eris let out a sharp whistle, making you jump as the leader of his pack came to his heel.

“I want you to take Hallie,” he said, his throat thick with emotion as he took your shaking hand into his own.

“Eris, I’m not taking your dog!” You argued, giving him an incredulous look.

“These woods are unsafe at the best of times, if you walk them with gold lining your pockets it is asking for trouble. She is a good hound. She will keep your safe,”

“I- I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” you breathed, silver lining your eyes, unable to fully comprehend the events of the last half hour.

“Stay safe, my lady, that’s all I ask,” he said, before kissing your hand one final time, petting his beloved Hallie on the head and then bidding you both goodbye as he disappeared between the trees, the sad howling of his remaining hounds in tow.

The walk back to the manor passed quickly in a mess of emotions, and even as Eris dragged himself to bed, accompanied by a glass of strong whisky, he tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the beautiful fae he left in the woods and the piece of his soul she had taken with her.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Hope you enjoyed reading!

✨Let me know if you would like to be added to my general taglist ✨

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #vanserra brothers #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 10 months ago

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MCU Play toy Headcanons

18+ MDNI

A/N: This is my first time posting anything like this. I wrote this up a while ago and finally decided to post it. Please ignore any spelling errors!

-Y/N gets hired by Tony for the rest of the team as a way to de-stress after missions

-Y/N gets used by most of the Avengers on the daily, but is always happy to please.

-Y/N is a switch but most of the Avengers are doms

-Y/N loves when they're lounging around and then someone will come up and just start fucking them no matter where it is

-living room? Fucked. Kitchen? Fucked. Meeting room? Fucked. Meeting room during a meeting? Oh honey you're in for a good time.

-Y/N has their own room and bed, but tends to sleep on the floor of someone else's room because that's what good pets do

-Y/N will sometimes get to sleep with someone for the night, usually Wanda who is a soft Dom and likes being called Mommy. She loves holding her baby. To Wanda you're her baby not her pet and that makes you feel special

-Nat is into some darker stuff that you didn't realize you liked until she introduced you to them (knife play, noncon con, somnophilia, omorashi, branding, dacryphilia, breeding)

-Nat has a dick and you would never pick favorites, but hers is your favorite

-Steve likes regular sex, but is super rough and into hair pulling and choking

-Loki uses his magic to make you fall fast into sub space and big on degrading.

-Thor is the opposite and only ever praises you he loves calling you princess

-Bucky is rough with you, but praises the whole time on how well you're doing, calls you doll as his nickname for you

-Bruce refused to use you at first and it wasn't until after him and hulk were able to live harmoniously that he fucked you, “Oh look at you big boy. I don't know if you'll fit like this.” “I'll make it fit and you'll take it all.” You do.

-Tony, Rhodey, Scott, Clint and Sam all don't fuck you as they have their own things going on.

-You thought Kate would be gentle with you, but she ends up being pretty rough and talks you through everything, grounding you in the moment which overwhelms you with pleasure.

-Yelena, who you thought would be rough, is actually a sub, a little at that. Her childhood ripped away from her and now she just wants ‘Mommy’ which you have no problems giving her.

-Tasha feels really uncomfortable at first when Yelena and Kate join the Avengers since Yelena is her sister.

-You understand why, but you have to remind her it's still your job

-Yelena is huge on physical touch and requires it often. Skin to skin is best.

-speaking of love languages you try your best with everyone's love languages as you all get to know each of them

-Steve is words of affirmation and quality time. Always tell him how good he's doing and you guys go on “dates” having dinner or watching a movie or doing a puzzle

-Bruce is acts of service and quality time. This usually involves you being in the lab and helping him whenever he needs it.

-Thor is WoA, physical touch, and quality time. He likes taking you out and experiencing new things

-Natasha is WoA and acts of service. You always praise her while you're fucking, “oh your cock is amazing! It fits me perfectly!” Saying things like that sends Nat over the edge.

-Loki is mainly all about physical touch. When you two are out he always has a hand or an arm on you

-Wanda's is quality time and WoA. You two love watching sitcoms her favorites are the old ones and yours are the new ones like The Office and Big Bang Theory

There comes a point where you realize that you actually love each and every Avenger, and it worries you that they only see you as a toy, but it's the farthest thing for them mostly.

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archiveikemen · 5 months ago

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"The True Vow to The Pitch Dark Bride" Collection Event

Liam Evans

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

After the ceremony, while waiting for the preparations for the wedding reception,

Liam: I was so nervous…

I was surprised to see him lean back on the sofa.

Kate: You didn't look that way.

Liam: I was worried that I’d make a mistake, it was more nerve wracking than standing on stage.

(He looked so calm during the ceremony, I couldn't tell that he was nervous at all.)

Kate: But I felt relieved because you were so confident.

Liam: I’m glad I was of use to you.

(I was happy that all the members of Crown and people from The Scala were there to congratulate us, but…)

Kate: Liam, are you really alright?

My only concern was the first bite of the wedding cake during the reception later on.

(Liam isn’t a fan of sweet things because they bring back memories of his painful past.)

He had been actively avoiding sweets since we started dating.

— Even though he doesn't have functioning taste buds.

(Up till now, I’ve always been preparing birthday cakes that aren't too sweet, but…)

Because we could only choose from a few types of cakes, adjusting the sweetness wasn't possible.

Liam: I’m fine.

Liam: More importantly, I’m glad I can make more happy memories with you.

Kate: But…

Liam: I’ve felt so much joy ever since I met you, Kate.

He took my hand and gently stroked the promise (ring) my ring finger.

Liam: You changed my life and saved me from my past.

I touched the promise (ring) his ring finger too.

Liam: No matter what happens, I’ll be alright as long as I have you by my side.

Kate: … Me too. I believe that everything will be alright as long as I have you.

Kate: But please still tell me if it gets too hard for you to handle, okay?

Liam: … We’ll stay together in sickness and in health, right?

Kate: Because we made a promise!

Someone from the reception venue came to inform us that the preparations were complete.

With some lingering unease, we held hands and walked out of the room.

…

The reception went smoothly and it was soon time to take the first bite of the wedding cake.

Kate: Amazing…!

Liam: The cake is big enough to hide you, Kate!

The cake brought before us as we stared at it in awe was decorated with roses made of sugar.

(The decorations match the colour of Liam’s eyes…)

Liam: Shall we do our very first task together as husband and wife?

We held the knife together and cut out a slice of the cake.

Thunderous applause filled the venue, we laughed and each picked up a spoon.

I carefully brought a piece of cake to Liam’s mouth, he took a bite and froze.

Kate: Liam…?

(Oh no. Is this too hard on him after all…?)

Liam: Kate…

Kate: S-Spit it out! I’ll cover you—

Liam: … This cake is sweet.

Kate: Huh…?

Liam: Sweet. It’s sweet.

He repeated that word while chewing his cake, and my voice trembled when I realised what that possibly meant.

Kate: Liam, your sense of taste…

His pupils shook.

Liam: My sense of taste… it’s back.

The moment I saw him swallow the cake, tears overflowed from the corners of my eyes and flowed down my face onto the floor.

His hands that cupped my cheeks trembled.

Liam: … I’ve always hated sweets because they remind me of those things.

Crystal clear tears fell from his eyes the colour of roses.

Liam: But it’ll be different from now on.

Liam: Whenever I eat something sweet, I’ll surely be reminded of this day and be happy…

(Even though he gradually grew to become more optimistic and happier, his sense of taste just didn't come back…)

He held me in a hug so tight that it hurt, and I wrapped my arms around his trembling body.

Liam: Thank you for loving me, and for teaching me what true happiness is.

We laughed together while our tears fell uncontrollably.

After a light kiss, Liam cried tears of joy again.

Liam: This is the taste of happiness.

Kate: … You can taste it however much you want from now on.

His face twisted with joy at my words.

Liam: In that case, I’ll taste it again right now.

He, who captivated the eyes of many people like a star, hid countless wounds underneath that brilliance.

I realised time and time again that I could never erase the wounds inflicted on him by his past, no matter how long we were together.

Liam: I love you, Kate. Words aren't enough to describe how much I do.

His wounds will never completely heal in the future.

(Even so, I’ve already decided from the day I took his hand at the Tower of London that I’ll make him happy.)

And today, we vowed to be happy together.

Kate: Me too. I love you forever and always.

Our lips met again in another kiss filled with pure bliss.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikevil translations #otome #ikevil collection event #liam evans

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natashaslesbian · 18 days ago

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Secrets & Lies | NR

Summary: Your mom comes home to find you with Kate, she puts two and two together

Request: Could you write one where reader is 13 or 14 years old and is dating their first boyfriend/girlfriend while trying to hide that from Nat? what would be her reaction when she finds out?

Word Count: 784

Warnings/Content: none I believe :)

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“Y/n I’m home” Natasha called as she shrugged off her winter coat, the New York frost was biting at her feet despite her Russian heritage. “Y/n?” The redhead called again after she was met with silence. Your mom paused in her movements, she was sure that you were home. Immediately, Natasha’s anger grew. She figured you were glued to the PlayStation again and she’d already told you that you were spending too much time gaming. Your mom dropped her bags with a huff before ascending up the staircase “y/n if you’re on that PlayStation again I swear to god I’m sending you to Steve’s house for a month!” Natasha said angrily.

You were contently cuddled with Kate until you heard the front door opening, why was your mom home so early? “Y/n I’m home” you heard Natasha call. You shot up in bed, startling the archer leaning against you “shit!” You cursed. “Is that your mom?” Kate said with wide eyes, frantically shuffling to the end of the bed. “Y/n?” Natasha called again. “Oh my god, oh my god” you said in a panicked tone. You hadn’t told your mom about your girlfriend yet, you hadn’t even told her you were gay. You’d never needed to before, Kate was the first person you had fallen in love with. “Um…just act natural” you told Kate as you heard your moms threat of being sent to Steve’s, the man still loved like it was the 1940s.

“Y/n!” Natasha yelled as opened your bedroom door “oh, hi Kate” she said in confusion, you usually always checked with your mom before having friends over. “Hi mom, um…Kate was bored at home so I said she could come over” you lied “I’m sorry I should’ve asked first” you said, awkwardly fiddling with the neckline of your hoodie. Kate sat as innocently as she could at the end of your bed “hi miss Romanoff” she muttered. Why you ever thought you could trick your mom was a mystery, she was a spy. Natasha could’ve cut the tension with a knife, that was the first clue that something else was going on here.

“Right okay” the redhead sighed “are you joining us for dinner Kate? She asked. “Um actually my mom is expecting me home soon so I should probably go” Kate said, wanting to get out of this awkward situation. “Oh okay, well as long as you’re sure it’s not because I’m interrupting something” Natasha said with raised eyebrows. “Mom” you gritted, your girlfriend awkwardly laughed off the joke and grabbed her things. “I’ll see you out” you smiled, shuffling Kate out of your room and down the stairs. “I’ll call you later” you timidly smiled, knowing your mom was still stood at the tip of the staircase. “Ok” Kate said, avoiding eye contact “bye y/n, bye miss Romanoff” she said. “Bye Kate, I’ll see you when you next come over” Natasha smiled, knowing exactly what she was doing.

You ran back past your mom as soon as you closed the front door, just wanting to avoid the looming tension. Natasha caught your door before you could close it “you not too hot?” She asked, motioning to your hoodie, it was the middle is summer after all. “No. I’m fine” you said with an awkward smile. “Ok well can you pull it down slightly so I can see your neck?” Your mom asked. “Why so you wanna see my neck? That’s kinda creepy mama” you said, trying to change the subject. “I’m not stupid y/n” Natasha sighed, giving you ‘the look’. She decided not to push you further right now, your mom truly respected your privacy and she knew that when you were ready, you’d talk.

Natasha began making her way back down the stairs before she turned on her heels “next time you have your girlfriend over, you stay downstairs ok? No girlfriends in the bedroom” she smirked. You went bright red at her words “oh my god mom” you said embarrassed and finally shut your door. You paused for a few moments before cracking your door open once again, finding Natasha in the same spot “thanks mama, I love you” you smiled. “I love you too baby, no matter what” your mom said back. It was an unspoken conversation but you knew now that your mom didn’t care who you were dating, all the time you spent worrying about it seemed pointless now. Even the gigantic task of telling her you were dating was over, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had thought it would be. Your mom loved you and you loved her, and you were sure that overtime she would love your girlfriend too.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you for the request I hope you like it

- Astara Bell

—————————————————————————

[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o ??/ @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx ??

#marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader

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unholyhelbig · 2 months ago

Note

now i need more firecrest asap after that cliffhanger

Title: Firecrest (Part 6/7)

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Please, please, please read these, it's a heavy chapter. Kidnapping, torture, cigarette burns, blood, Cutting, getting stabbed (Idk how to explain it, istg it's not knifeplay), physical violence, horrible grammar, and let me know if I forgot anything please.

[A/n: I promise I don't think Clint or Eleanor are bitches... maybe Eleanor a little bit. This is for plot purposes! Eleanor is a MILF, I don't make the rules!]

The fist was strong enough to crack against your jaw like a whip. It was a rude awakening, one you were sure had shattered bone and most definitely filled your mouth with a helping of metallic blood that you weren’t quick enough to swallow. You let it choke you, your mind still slow and too foggy to acknowledge the position you were in.

Strung up as if you were about to be carved with a butcher's knife and served up for Thanksgiving dinner. Your eyes refused to adjust right away, but you caught the glimpse of golden iron knuckles, the glint from a nearby light the only thing that you could pinpoint past the pulsing pain and the garbled breaths you could take.

Another hit, this time aimed a little higher. You felt the edge of the metal dig into your skin and the steady waterfall of warmth that began to drip down the side of your face and off your chin. It spread to your stomach, which was startlingly bare. The simple fact that you might be nude was enough to jar you from whatever unconsciousness that lingered.

You pulled in a painful breath, pinpricks of cold air filling your lungs. You felt like you were underwater, completely submerged. While the thundering ache of your wounds caused concern, what scared you more was your current position; a rope had been wrapped around your wrists and thrown over a beam on the ceiling. It was tied to an iron hook bolted to the wall, effectively lifting your arms uncomfortably over your head, the soles of your now-bare feet barely touching dirt.

They’d stripped you of your blazer and the blue that you had agreed to wear to please Kate. It was never a color you enjoyed, reminding you too much of the broken crystals and toxic chemicals that had gotten you here in the first place. Thankfully, they’d left you in your sports bra and dress pants. Their hits were meant to wound deeper, to strip you of skin and damage tendons beyond repair.

You were in a horse stable, or something that was once used as such. On either side of the long structure were the sectioned spaces for the large animals, but they’d been fortified with iron bars. It reminded you too much of a prison despite both ends of the building being open and giving you ample views of the night sky. The cold wind brought goosebumps to your bare skin.

A groan pushed past your lips. You tried to use what little strength you had left to pull yourself up, just to alleviate the pressure on your shoulders, but there was no such luck. Your muscles twitched before giving out entirely. You settled for blinking the dripping blood from your eyes and taking a look at your attacker.

There wasn’t much clarity to be had. He was, by all accounts, a white man with too much scruff and a cowboy hat for shits and giggles. You weren’t about to scoff at his choice in attire. You had no power in this situation. You couldn’t feel your fingers, much less create a spark from them. With the amount of hay scattered about, not only would it be pointless, but it would end up killing you in the process.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” His breath leaked from his mouth in streams of smoke. You weren’t sure if it stemmed from the cold or the cigarette between his lips. He swiveled, calling out “She’s awake!”

The sound-off didn’t bring an immediate presence. But Texas, as you kindly dubbed him in your sedative soaked brain, stepped forward and plucked the cigarette from his lips before pressing the angry red tip against your collarbone. He stamped his filthy habit out.

A grunt escaped you, and you pulled once more on the uncomfortable ropes that had you bound. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking from a little burn and some unfair fighting tactics. It hurt like hell, bit into your skin. Up close, he had yellowed teeth from his vice, and his mouth clicked when he smiled. “Boss said we could rough you up, makes for better television.”

“Here I was,” you panted, voice gravelly “Thinking you were the boss.”

He smiled thinly at that, the light in his eyes faltering. He let the extinguished cigarette drop to the lightly packed dirt floor, hooking his thumbs into his belt-buckle and taking an admiring step back. He appreciated his handiwork, the two wounds on your face and a third against your heaving chest.

“Aw, leave some fun for the rest of us, will you?” another voice. A woman.

You whipped your chin up much too fast, your head suddenly swimming at the quick movement. It had been a mistake and took a few moments for you to orient yourself again. Her presence didn’t give you much clarity, if any. She was dressed warmly for the crispening weather, a black coat and black leather gloves. Her face was obscured by a solid gold mask, only holes cut out for the sharp blue eyes that were so familiar.

“How’s my prisoner holding up?” She cooed, taking your face in one hand. She squeezed your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. The aching pain in your jaw shot up to a slowly-forming headache. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already? Sweet girl, you confessed your undying love to me. I thought you’d show more enthusiasm.

You could feel the blush moving across your cheeks, an annoying pink tint that gave you away. You wanted to spit in her face, but it wouldn’t have been productive, you feared. It would only anger her, and leave you unsatisfied. So you dragged a breath in and steeled yourself with an icy frown. She wore Kate’s bracelet.

“No matter,” She released you and a rip of pain moved through your shoulder blades, her fingers trailing against your well-defined stomach, nails leaving subtle pink indentations. “Flattery will get you nowhere, y/n.”

You snarled “What do you want?”

“From you, darling? Absolutely nothing. You’re not as important as you think you are.” She tsked, circling you like a hungry shark. “Pretty, but not important. You’re nothing more than a pawn. All I want is for you to sit pretty and wait for your father.”

The fire that you couldn’t conjure from your fingertips lit your stare in a dangerous red. The masked woman tilted her head to the side in what you’ve come to realize was interest. A low hum rumbled from her chest. You glowered at the two of them, drawing in breaths and releasing them in a way that caused the less pain.

Of course this had to do with Clint. He’d waltzed back into your life, stirred up old feelings, and had effectively gotten you kidnapped. You didn’t know where Kate, your Kate, was. The thought made you thrash a little harder against your binds. The sharp sting of coarse rope cut into your wrists, a line of blood no bigger than a teardrop, slid to the crook of your elbow in response.

“He doesn’t know where you are, sweetie.”

She tutted, shaking her mask-clad head and stirring the raven hair that hung lazily on her shoulders. The woman kept a keen eye on you, as if you had anywhere to go, but she reached blindly back towards Tex. He wore a confused expression for a moment before the gears in his head started to turn and brush off the cobwebs. He flicked open his pocket knife and handed it to her.

“Don’t you think it’s a shame that print is dying? Holding up a phone with the time and date just isn’t as motivating as it once was.”

It was your turn to be confused, but it only lasted as long as it took for the blade to touch your skin. This time, you couldn’t hold back the scream. She was much too slow with her cut, much too methodical. She’d done this before, maybe with livestock, but she knew how to maximize the stinging pain

She was carving into your flesh, something that would stay with you until the end of time. They were coordinates, you knew by the third agonizing number that she chiseled right below the burn that Tex had inflicted. She tried to silence you with her incessant coos and tender exclamations that it would all be okay.

How could it? The veins in your arms were straining just to quell the sharp pain of her handiwork. You were doused in sweat, which stung just as bad in the open cuts than the slices themselves. When she’d finished the last number, you had screamed yourself sore, the adrenaline that made it nearly tolerable leaving as soon as it had filled your veins.

The masked woman slid her tongue over the sharpened blade, licking away the tint of red before she let it fall to the floor. She’d gotten bored of you, you could tell by the flatness in her stare. Your head hung and mucus dripped from your nose, you made no attempt to swallow it back.

“Rough her up a bit more, then take the photos.” The woman demanded, her voice retreating. “Send them to every news station in the city. They’re not going to want to miss this.”

Bobbi Morse hated the feeling of cold wood flooring against the soles of her feet. It made the entirety of her shiver, waking her body up and shedding the last of the warmth she had from her shared bed. Her husband had suggested slippers, but they were always left in various places of the house. So she suffered at her own hand, even as she padded to the front door.

Day had barely broken, and a blue haze coated the dewed grass. There were birds at the feeder on the back porch and small paths in the condensation on the lawn from deer that had ventured too far from the edge of the surrounding woods. This, by all means, should be a peaceful morning.

But it wasn’t, because Clint fucking Barton had pulled the glass door back and started pounding on the wooden frame with such fervor that it made Bobbi’s jaw ache. She had thrown on her robe to conserve some warmth, but still felt too exposed in front of her ex-husband and Avenger.

She’d leveled him with a glare that could shatter glass, and he respectfully rushed out. “Bobbi, come on. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency.”

He had a point. It made her chest seize. They only had one thing in common these days, and it was you. Even then, he didn’t make a point of crashing into her new life. The life she preferred for the both of you. So, she stepped back and allowed him to scramble into the foyer with his musky, cold scent. Clint always smelled slightly like gunpowder and cinnamon despite choosing a more archaic weapon.

“Have you seen the news?”

“What? No, God, you woke me up.”

His eyes widened and he clumsily found his way to the living room, carding around in the couch cushions for the remote as if he lived here. He certainly didn’t, and Bobbi had to swallow back her white-hot anger at the familiarity of his movements.

Still, he navigated the technology surprisingly well and flicked on the television. The room filled with a pale blue light that made Bobbi’s eyes sting viciously. She blinked the moisture away and leaned over the back of the couch, the anxiety in the pit of her stomach starting to swirl.

You’d mentioned going to dinner last night with your girlfriend. Something that Eleanor Bishop had orchestrated. She’d nearly begged you not to go. You didn’t owe that woman anything. But you looked at Kate like she hung the moon and the stars, so there would be no talking you out of the event.

It was only on your way out the door that you slipped in Clint’s presence. The oak had slammed before Bobbi could protest, and even if she could, you were an adult. You were in love. If you saw it fit to establish a relationship with your biological father due to the proximity, then who was she to stop you?

Now, she wished she had because Clint was here, and you weren’t.

Bobbi’s stomach was empty, but she had the acute need to vomit as the words Breaking News flashed across the screen. They’d halted all other programming. She was certain that you were dead, and her fingers moved to the now cold spot on her cheek where your lips had hurriedly pressed in a loving goodbye.

Cindy Moon, reporter extraordinaire, was freshly dressed in her usual suited ensemble. She looked so put together, even for the special report. How could she look so calm? Rationally, Bobbi knew it was her job to do just that, but the ringing in her ears was starting to wash out every coherent thought.

“Word coming out of our own studio, and it seems, multiple stations across the state. Current Congress Candidate Lance Hunter has been issued a very public call to arms. This morning, a photo of his step-daughter Y/n Morse, has been released nationally. Due to the graphic nature of this photo, we here at NNC will not be showing the image.”

Bobbi was relying on the sofa to hold her up now. Her world tilted and she’d knowingly stopped breathing, curling her fingers into the rough fabric. Lance hadn’t woken up yet, and she knew the scream that threatened to bubble into her throat would do just that.

“The message was clear,” Cindy sadly continued “It’s up to Lance Hunter to make the next move, and follow the coordinates. We will continue to update the public on this matter. But for now, we encourage the general public to disregard the message and let law enforcement handle the matter.”

Let law enforcement handle it. Like the department has ever done one competent thing in their lives. She had faith in you. She’d trained you herself and with experts in her craft that had been hardened enough to impress her. But she worried for you like any mother did. It wafted from her in waves.

“Show me the photo.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“You don’t get to come into my house and tell me what is or isn’t a good idea. The photo Clint.”

Her tone left no room for argument. His phone was comically bright, and she winced at the white light that leaked from the screen as he fumbled to get her request pulled up. She saw his shoulders tighten and his jaw clench when he got to where he wanted. Such small reactions that anyone normal wouldn’t realize his fear. But Bobbi wasn’t normal.

She grabbed the phone with one hand and pressed her cold fingers to her lips with another. Still, an involuntary groan escaped her throat. She’d read once that wolves howl despite danger when they feel the need to grieve at the horrors committed.

There was almost more blood and bruising than skin. Your head was dipped, so she couldn’t see your eyes but she prayed they still held life. You were strung up, clearly straining against your binds. The cuts in your chest made her own burn horribly. They’d beaten you savagely.

“What’s going on?” Lance had padded down the carpeted stairs, moving with the silence of a ghost. “Clint?”

Neither of them answered, so Lance flicked his gaze to the television, frowning when a headshot of himself was front and center. A photo of you and him slotted right next to it. It was your high school graduation, chords around your neck as you beamed with your diploma in hands. He stared at you in the photo as if you’d been elected president.

Lance tepidly took the device from Bobbi, who let it go without her usual fight. She’d fallen into his side, pressing her nose against his neck and letting her shoulders shake with silent sobs. His eyes misted over immediately, hand tightening around the phone.

Clint wasn’t expecting the hardness in his stare when he did finally lift his gaze. “This is for me.”

“They want you to go there.”

“I assume you’re coming with us.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“No,” Lance snarled with the ferocity of a wild animal scorned, moving his hand soothingly on his wife’s back. “She’s mine.”

The hiss that pushed past your lips reminded you too much of letting the air out of a bike tire. It was a weak sound, and even as you moved in and out of consciousness, you resented the fact. If there were ever a time to be feeble, it was now.

The pain hit you before you fluttered your eyes open. They felt heavy, refusing to acknowledge the lack of adrenaline that you now held close to your chest. You registered the exhaustion in your bones, the ache in every part of your body where Tex had struck. He’d left small expanses unmarred, but anything that would show your bruising to the camera was hit with iron knuckles, with another lit cigarette or the tip of the caked blade.

Just like the woman in the mask, he’d soon grown bored of you. You were vaguely aware of being moved, being thrown into one of the cells that lined the walkway. There was no haste to pull yourself up, even if you were able to. You were shaking too much, and soon gave way to unconsciousness.

There wasn’t a way to tell how much time had passed, but when you startled awake and tried to sit up, you were met with quick resistance. You clenched your eyes shut until you saw stars, trying to sit up again, but being pushed down to a scratchy mattress by a hand.

You thought you were alone. The fight or flight kicked in and your eyes sprung open. You struggled against the hand, the touch that was so familiar but in the way that Kate’s eyes were on the balcony. You were breathing frantically, panting in fear.

“Hey, hey, hey” a raspy voice tried to soothe, but there was nothing soothing about being under someone’s hand without a proper way to move. You were sure you’d cracked a few ribs, and maybe even your jaw with that first, startling hit. “You need to relax, stop moving.”

Despite the growled warning, you turned your head and gaged the person who was so easily restraining you. Kate. Or maybe it wasn’t. You felt a shiver rock through your body at the sight of her. You didn’t trust what you were seeing, not right away. That had gotten you into deep, scalding water just the day before.

You were sprawled on a twin bed that rested on a metal frame. The mattress was stuffed with newspaper, crinkling with each shallow breath you took. It was the only accommodation in the dusty cell other than a tin bucket that you didn’t much care to think about.

Kate was in her tactical pants, pitch black and stained with dust. She wore a tank top that revealed yellowing bruises, lacerations that she had nursed the best she could. Nothing near what had been done to you, but it made your heart clench all the same. She’d been hurt, and you wanted to carve out the heart of whoever dared lay a hand on her.

A sad whimper escaped you and her hand stroked the side of your face as if it were habit. She’d taken her purple jacket from her shoulders and pressed it to the carved numbers against your chest, effectively staunching the blood. You were grateful for the act of kindness, for her warm touch.

“You’re okay, it’s okay.”

It most certainly was not okay, but the certainty in which she said it made you want to believe that it was. Her fingers brushed over your arms and any exposed skin that she could see. She assessed the wounds like she understood exactly where they were, making sure they hadn’t started to leak blood once more.

How long had she been here? You hadn’t reached out after your fight. There were clear lines drawn and you weren’t going to step over them. You felt a burst of relief when she’d texted you, demanding that you wear blue and show up on time to dinner. You had done both without question.

Kate must have sensed the questions brewing behind your stare. Her tender touch moved to your forehead, carding her fingers through your hair in a comforting gesture. The ghost of a smile on her face “Don’t think too hard, okay? I don’t know if you’re bleeding internally or not.”

Your pitiful chuckle turned into a cough, Kate’s expression dropping, filled with worry. She waited until you were done, rubbing small circles against your bare arm. You noticed the small split that seemed to keep reopening against her lip. The very one you’d clocked during your last real conversation.

You swiped your thumb gently across her cracked lips, frowning “You’re bleeding.”

She laughed wetly, dropping her head letting her tears fall. She’d grasped your nearest hand with both of hers, absently playing with your fingers, squeezing and holding them to make sure you were real. You wanted to embrace her, to quell her fears, her misery. But you couldn’t move more than an inch.

“I thought you were going to die,” Kate croaked out, not looking up. “I could hear everything, smell the blood, even from here. I was certain that with each hit, you wouldn’t wake up and we would leave things… we would leave them in that stupid alleyway.”

Your mouth was dry, throat burning. She gripped your hand harder to wash away her own trembling. You didn’t deserve her forgiveness, you knew that. But there was the pulled feeling that you needed her more than anything right now.

“I hid in the corner with my hands over my ears like a coward. I was certain that you’d die right past my reach and there was nothing I could do about it. That the very last image you would have of me, of us, was that horrible night.”

“Stop,” you begged in a broken voice, fingers brushing lightly against her jaw. Kate glanced up, static gray eyes rimmed in red. She swallowed hard and watched you carefully. “Katie, this is all my fault. All of it. I’ve spent years denying my emotions. It was going to blow up eventually. It was only a matter of time.”

You carefully started to sit up, she drew in a sharp breath and opened her mouth to object before snapping her jaw shut. You’d always been able to handle yourself, stubborn until the very end. You pressed your fingers into your ribs to quell the ache.

Carefully, you put your hands on either side of her cheeks, wiping away the dampness across the flushed expanse. She’d never let you hold her like this, but she melted into the touch with a starved sigh. She hiccupped, trying to catch her breath as she scrambled up onto the bed next to you, her arm flush against yours with a comforting heat.

“We’ll get out of this,” You leaned your forehead against her own. This time, it was you who desperately searched for a grounding factor in her hands, calloused from years of archery. “Even if it means just waiting.”

“God, we’re so bad at that.”

You were aware. Patience was not a virtue when it came to you, and certainly not when it came to Kate. Sitting still for the past week must have been enough of a torture for her before you got yourself thrown right in next to her. Brutally beaten and plaguing her with the mere sound of breaking bones and your screams of anguish.

Your body was starting to grow heavy, the mere pressure of Kate next to you, the evergreen scent of her, was enough to lull you into near sleep. Her arm was wrapped with yours, her cheek resting on your shoulder. You both were on alert for the sound of footsteps, but were only met with cicadas and bullfrogs.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What did she mean when she said you confessed your undying love?”

A groan rumbled through you and you clenched your eyes harder. How were you supposed to explain that you hadn’t noticed the woman next to you the whole night wasn’t your Kate. There were subtle mannerisms that gave her away, the more you scrutinized them.

The way she’d done her hair, the fidgeting with the gold bracelet. The defiance against Eleanor being so blatant. Kate would coyly roll her eyes, but not entertain anything her mother pushed. It had been different, sharper words and thicker movements. You were just so focused on your own turmoil to notice.

“Because I did.”

Kate frowned, pursing her lips into a straight line and staring at you with a glinting amount of question. Even under the washed-out yellow lights, she was beautiful. Breathtaking. Under her scrutiny, you shivered, aggravating the pain that wracked your body.

“She… looked like you. A carbon copy, and I… told her how I felt.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“Impossibly so.” A sad chuckle escaped you and you averted your gaze to the packed dirt floor. “Long before this whole charade. There’s a loving patience to you that no one has ever shown me before. You are impossible not to fall in love with, Kate Bishop.”

Silence was filled with your struggled breaths, fingers still pushing deep into your ribs to keep the ache from spreading. You sniffed, feeling a cold drip right beneath your nose. You weren’t expecting an answer. Too tired to fight for one.

Kate’s touch was softhearted, fingers brushing gently against your jaw and guiding your eyes to her own. They were glossy, tearful. “You absolute idiot. I knew from the second I saw you that you’d be the death of me.”

You scoffed at the irony of her statement. There was a blooming affection that ripped through you, much harder than the knife against your skin. Her expression was world-altering, earth-shattering and you nearly whimpered under her attention, no matter how sparing it was.

Her stare flicked to your lips, and you gave the slightest nod of confirmation. You’d kissed Kate before, usually open mouthed and in a rushed effort to fight for dominance with one another. But this was different. Her lips were soft, slightly-chapped from the cold. There was a metallic taste to you both, her movements methodic, calculated and full of care.

This time, you did whimper, more of a huff of pain. Her hand had brushed against your side, and the shooting discomfort was enough for you to pull back, if only slightly. Kate smiled guiltily against your lips, whispering apologies into your mouth.

“Lay down,” Kate purred.

You quirked a brow at her “Really? Right here?”

“Not like that. You’re clearly in pain. Lay down.”

She started to lead you onto your back with practiced ease before you could voice your protests (ones that included wanting to stay awake long enough to keep kissing her). You hissed, mumbling something along the lines of her being bossy, but you couldn’t deny the comfort that washed over you when you were finally situated.

Kate settled in next to you, slotting her leg carefully with yours and pressing flush against you, providing the comfort that you so desperately needed. Kate’s nose was cold against the naïve of your neck. An instant relief that quieted any lingering thoughts that would fight off sleep.

The next time you woke up, it wasn’t nearly as startled. Even if you had wanted to move quickly, you felt the twinge of your injuries prevent you from doing so. There was consistent pressure against your mostly bare chest, Kate’s hand had found purchase against the only unmarred part of your collarbone.

Her lips were parted and she let out soft breaths that tickled the small of your throat. You wondered when the last time she slept- really slept- was. She’d been here days, based on her bruising and her clothing that she was so willing to share to provide you with some decency.

“I’m rooting for the two of you.”

You stiffened, swallowing the groan of pain that struggled to rush to the surface. The voice, of course, was familiar and gravelly and filled you with white hot anger. It was the woman in the gold mask. Hardley cost effective and taunting you behind it.

She was standing on the other side of the cell, watching both you and Kate like viewing animals in a zoo. She’d even tossed a greasy bag of fast food through the gaps in the iron. You hated that your mouth filled with saliva at the charcoal scent.

You’d picked at a salad for dinner, and had even thrown up the one cherry tomato you’d managed to consume during Tex’s brutal work. “A peace offering.”

“An olive branch.” You could hear the smirk in your voice. “You might not believe this, y/n but I mean you no harm.”

You leveled her with an acidic glare that could melt the very bars that contained you. It softened when Kate let out a small grumble in her sleep and burrowed closer. She was like a little space heater, nearly to the point of a fever. She had always run hot, just like you.

“No further harm. I could have easily killed you, or your little bird. But I haven’t, so a little trust would be appreciated.”

“If you’re hoping for some sort of Stockholm syndrome, keep holding your breath, lady.”

The stranger shrugged her shoulders and watched the two of you with deadened eyes that made you squirm. You stayed put, partly out of pain and partly because the worst thing you could do right now was stir the sleeping archer in your arms.

So, you whispered, “If you wanted Clint, why not pump him full of sedatives at the dinner table? This seems like an awful amount of work for someone sitting across from you, sipping wine.”

“That washed up Avenger? Please. We don’t want Clint. We want Lance.” She hauled herself onto a large barrel across from the cell, crossing her legs at the ankles. It was a bitter attempt at sprucing up the place. “You said it yourself at dinner, Clint isn’t your father. In fact, I feel kind of bad for you. A dad that won’t give you a second glance, a girl who only entertained your love to piss him off? You have every right to hate him.”

You made a noise in the back of your throat and flopped your head back onto the flat pillow. The ceiling was a nice wooden structure, maybe apart of the original structure. You didn’t need her pity, but it still settled the slightest bit of comfort in your stomach.

You’d ran out of your ability to be tactful someone between the tenth and Eleventh blow to your abdomen. “If you’re looking for ransom, you won’t get much. All of our wealth has been pumped into the campaign.”

“I don’t want money, though, that would be an added benefit. I’m simply helping. What’s a better and more heartfelt story than a candidate saving his poor, inhuman daughter?” She pouted behind her mask, tilting her head at an angle. “It’ll be media gold. It’ll catapult is numbers.”

“I’m sorry, you want Lance to win?”

“Someone does, and they were willing to pay a lot of money to get you here.”

A breath escaped you, one that you tried to stop from shaking. That could be the design of anyone, including your own parents. You wouldn’t be shocked if Eleanor Bishop had stuck her hand into the kidnapping plot. But that also begged the question of who was powerful enough to orchestrate something like this?

“Keep your strength up,” The masked woman hopped from the barrel, “We wouldn’t want you to die in here, now, would we?”

She walked away on surprisingly light feet. They didn’t stir the gravel like Tex’s did. You knew your heart was pounding harder from the interaction, the planned admissions that were just another form of torture. She could be lying. You hoped she was lying.

Kate was drooling under the heavy hand of sleep. You couldn’t help the small smile that fought through your confusion, your pain. She really could sleep anywhere, and you envied her in moments like these. Your body had given in to the exhaustion earlier, but now, you were left with your thoughts and her distant snores.

Your hand closed over hers, playing with her fingers absently as you carded through every single person who may have a problem with your family. The list was long, but there was a shorter list of people who wanted Lance to win.

He’d resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t, and that had been an odd strategy for you at first. Near the start of his campaign, you’d have trouble getting to sleep unless you were in your childhood bedroom, close to the people who loved and cared about you.

Even then, you’d find yourself in the living room with Lance. He watched old westerns when he couldn’t drift off and you had taken to joining him every once and awhile. He told you then, that he didn’t think he would win.

“I don’t get it. Why run at all, then?”

“People are stuck in their ways, sometimes it takes more than one election to change things like that. They’re not used to Inhumans, not like we are. But we’ll change their minds, even if it’s slowly. They’ll learn to love just like we do.”

You’d grown tired throughout the latter half of the 1952 movie ‘High Noon’. Gary Colemans southern, gravelly voice lulled you to sleep that night with your cheek on Lance’s shoulder, the scent of his aftershave coating your throat and your lungs. You never knew if he’d succumbed that night, but you knew that it was the safest you’ve ever felt.

The idea that he would sway the election with a fake kidnapping was out of the question. Because he didn’t care if he won. He’d only ever cared that he changed the world in a good way, one that would cut the sideways looks you got in half.

“Mm, you should be resting.” Kate’s sleepy demands pulled you from your thoughts, her voice vibrating against the side of your throat. You subconsciously pulled her closer, making sure she was comfortable on the sliver of a twin bed. “Cheeseburger?”

“That’s what woke you?”

“No, your thoughts are loud.”

She nipped lightly at your sensitive skin, soothing it with a kiss almost as quickly as she’d created the subtle sting. It was relaxing, a show of affection that spread warmth to your stomach. You wanted to wake up next to Kate Bishop every single day for the rest of your life. Just not in a dirty cell.

The distinct lack of emotion in Eleanor Bishop’s eyes worried Bobbi more than anything else she had seen today. She had seen a lot. A startling amount that had numbed her to a state of shaking paleness. There was no comfortable piece of furniture in this penthouse and that aggravated her all the more.

They’d been intercepted by law enforcement before they could do anything shy of putting on real clothes before being herded like livestock to the Bishop’s residence. At first, Bobbi had chalked it up to them owning a security company, maybe they had ties to other agencies.

But, they were soon informed that Kate had vanished too and Eleanor was just so beside herself, she couldn’t fathom travel. Her cheeks were red, flushed with emotion, but her eyes remained deadened. Bobbi had to clutch an ugly throw pillow to ground herself.

“Right now, we suggest you do nothing.”

“Do… nothing?” Lance was pacing behind the sofa, trying to breathe in as much outside air from the propped open storm doors as possible. “Forgive me Detective North but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“We don’t believe that they’re going to do anything further to harm your daughter, but there is a very real possibility that all of this is a ploy to kill you. So yes, Mr. Hunter, we expect you to wait here while we execute the rescue.”

She was a hard woman with sharp eyes that could cut through solid ice to expose a soft underbelly. Bobbi supposed that she had to be in her line of work. In any other situation she would have applauded her finality. Her tenderness. But this was different.

Bobbi held her tongue. She didn’t make it known, and wouldn’t, that she was Mockingbird. The police force didn’t’ actively endorse vigilantes and stumbling out that she was much more competent than anyone they could send in for a rescue would lead to more trouble.

As if sensing her distress, Lance put an assured hand on her shoulder. The former SHIELD agents were getting older and the novelty had long since worn off. You, on the other hand, had a long career ahead of you as Firecrest. The media was meant to believe that you were an innocent, politicians daughter with a bit of a wild streak. Maybe they should do nothing.

“And what of Katherine?” Eleanor forced a hiccup, gently patting below her eye with a dry tissue that stayed dry. “Have there been any demands?”

Detective North frowned down at her notepad “No, I’m afraid not. We’ve heard nothing. They both seemed normal at dinner last night?”

“We’ve been through this!” Clint shouted in a sudden outburst. He’d remained silent by the bar, only losing his composure when his protégé was brought up, he sighed, softening. “Y/n left to get some fresh air and Kate followed her. We didn’t see or hear anything else.”

“It didn’t cause any concern when neither of them returned?”

“Katherine barely regards me as it is.” Eleanor waved off, suddenly dry-eyed once more. “I learned a long time ago that it’s easier to avoid fights that will get me nowhere. I figured that the two of them retreated somewhere they were more comfortable.”

Bobbi hated to agree with Eleanors logic, but could see where she was coming from. Kate was difficult, but only with her mother. She matched the energy that was given and Bobbi had always respected her at a silent distance for that. Little acts of rebellion made life livable.

Her voice pinched and she clutched the tissue “You’re telling me… she could be dead?”

“We’re not telling you anything, Mrs. Bishop. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can before entering an uncontrolled situation.”

“All you need to know is that our daughter is gone and if you don’t send someone in there to get her in the next hour, I’ll do it myself.” Bobbi hissed.

“Right… Well.” Detective North was disturbed by the impassioned anger in Bobbi’s voice, the venom in her eyes. She cleared her throat and stood. “Like I said, stay here. We’ll post a uniform outside of the door. No one in or out. I’ll be in touch.”

She pocketed her notebook and left before any further questions could be asked. Bobbi didn’t understand. They knew where you were, it would be simple to retrieve you and treat your wounds and make sure that you were still alive and breathing. That you were okay.

Eleanor stood from her seat next to Bobbi and poured herself a drink, straight vodka that looked more like a crisp drink of water. She swallowed it without making a face before she moved to pour herself another one but stopped her slender fingers short of the cap. “I knew this was a horrible idea.”

“What was?” Bobbi croaked out.

“Our children seeing one another. Everything was fine until Katherine started making heart eyes at your arsonist.”

“The last I checked, they’re both adults.” Lance said through gritted teeth. “They can make their own choices and have done so for the past decade without incident.”

She laughed dryly “Without incident? Y/n nearly destroyed a historic building with a couple of matches. Do you know why she did that? It certainly wasn’t at the behest of my Katherine.”

“That’s enough.” Clint silenced the room. He’d fallen back into his quiet contemplation after his outburst with Detective North. “This isn’t helping anything.”

“You’re right.” Her eyes narrowed “aren’t you a superhero? Can’t you suit up in your spandex and retrieve my daughter and your discarded one?”

Nothing more could be said. She’d effectively taken all the oxygen out of the room. Eleanor unscrewed the cap of the vodka and poured herself a heavy-handed second helping before flopping back down into her spot. She’d had too much to drink, but Bobbi wasn’t about to point that out, nor was she going to stop her.

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121, @escapereality4music, @cyberbonesworld, @dark-hunter16, @crescentcrush, @bishopsbeloved, @sammi1642, @bilyashvili, @thinking1bee

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Kate bishop x reader #Hawkeye #Hawkeye fanfiction #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #hurt/comfort #Ask #bobbi morse #lance hunter #mockingbird #clint barton #Reader has fire powers

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dark-frosted-heart · 4 months ago

Text

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 16

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Kate: …Nn…Where is this?

I regained consciousness on the cold floor.

(That’s right…I ended up smelling something that came from behind me…)

(is this…a warehouse…somewhere?)

My head still felt heavy as I raised it, and stood up.

(I’m not tied up…)

I sighed in relief, but then—

Kate: …!

When I sensed a presence, I turned around and saw a boy and girl looking pale and trembling.

(Who are these kids?)

(...Could it be that—)

~~ Flashback ~~

Barkeep: These days you hear a lot of young men and women get attacked or go missing.

Liam: Lately, young people have been getting attacked or going missing.

Ellis: Do you mean the incidents Victor and Will are investigating?

~~ End flashback ~~

(...Did I end up getting involved in the incident?)

While I sat there in surprise, I suddenly heard footsteps from the darkness.

Man in a black hood: Looks like you’re all awake.

One, two, three, four men with black hoods over their eyes appeared.

(These were the criminals who attacked me…)

They each held either a gun or a knife.

(I thought I was glad that I wasn’t tied up…How naive)

The fact that I had such freedom meant that there was no way you’d get away.

Depending on what they do, my life could be taken instantly.

I went pale with fear and fell to my knees.

(Calm down…I’m a fairytale keeper trained by Roger)

(Out of everyone here, I’m the one most familiar with “evil”)

I felt for the gun strapped to my garter belt. Luckily that wasn’t taken away.

(Everyone should soon realize that I’ve disappeared)

And then Crown…Roger will come save me.

The evil Crown was the best group you could have as your ally.

(Besides, Crown’s been following this case)

(If they thought that saving me would help solve this case, then they’d be on it now)

I just had to wait.

(...I’ll need to buy some time)

(Or else…the kids and I—)

A shiver ran down my spine when it felt like the Grim Reaper was drawing near. I mustered up all my strength and stood in front of kids to protect them.

Kate: …Why are you doing this?

Man in a black hood: I don’t see a point in explaining ourselves to someone who’s about to die.

(“Someone who’s about to die”...)

Meaning they plan to kill us in the end.

(We’re not being held for ransom)

(They kidnap random youths)

(But…why would they kill all these people?)

I didn’t understand their intentions.

That made me anxious, and after putting all that effort into standing, my legs started shaking.

Look for a chance to escape

Beg for your life

Provoke him +4 +4

Kate: …It’s not like you’re going to let us run. If we’re waiting to die, then wouldn’t it be nice to have something to take with us to the afterlife? But if you can’t even give us that…then do what you want.

A look of annoyance crossed his face and he gulped audibly.

But the provocation did its job and the hooded man started to talk with an air of confidence.

Man in a black hood: In this world, there’s a thing called “being useless”. Withered flowers, abandoned buildings, dead people. However, there are some people who find value in these.

Kate: There are people who value us even after we die?

(I think…Roger and I had a conversation like this before)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Roger, what’s this law written here in “Dissection Laws”?

Roger: As you know, medicine’s advancing pretty rapidly in England. With that comes a lot of dissections performed by doctors and researchers. Now here’s a question. What do you think the problem with this is?

Kate: …They run out of specimens to perform dissections on?

Roger: Correct. So then people go and collect human specimens however they can.

Kate: Ah, I’ve heard of people who dig up graves to steal corpses.

Roger: That’s why the “Dissection Law” was established to prevent that and ensure cadavers were acquired legally.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...Being regulated by law increases the shortage of human specimens)

That’s why they were killing young people.

Not for ransom.

But the corpses had value.

With this, I came to a conclusion—

Kate: Are you all doctors or researchers who need human specimens?

Man in a black hood: Oh? You’re clever…Who are you?

Kate: I don’t have a name to share.

Man in a black hood: Hmm, cheeky. You’re not entirely wrong, but… Let’s stop chatting. My client wants silent offerings.

The hooded man took something out.

What reflected the dim light dully was—

(A knife…)

Roger: This is supposed to be the base, but there’s nothing here…Did we get it wrong?

When they entered, the warehouse was only filled with silence and the smell of dust.

Nica: It’s too early to give up, no? These places tend to have dummies. Like hidden passageways or hidden doors.

Roger held up a finger to stop him from talking.

Roger: …I can “hear” something. There are people in the basement.

Nica: Oh, so that’s abnormal hearing. I thought it had its limitations, but it’s pretty useful.

Ale: Arf arf.

Jude: The dumb dog found somethin’.

Picking up Ale who was sniffing around a wooden crate and moving said crate out of the way revealed—

Roger: A hidden passageway.

Nica: See, I knew it. That means you’re likely right.

They descended into the hidden passageway.

At the base of the stairs, a lone candle casted a shadow on the wall.

Roger: There’s no hiding spots though. Guess we’ll have to get out.

After they emerged, someone saw the shadows their shadows on the wall.

Man with mouth covered: …Who’s there!

10 men appeared, all with their faces covered by cloth.

Jude: Oi, quack. Keep goin’. Princess will be dead if ya don’t hurry.

Roger: …Jude

Jude: Huh? What’s with that face? It’s on your conscience if she dies. Go.

Roger: Sorry. I’ll waive your medical bill. Don’t die, Jude.

With that, Roger ran into the darkness.

Man with mouth covered: Hey, one’s running away. After him!.

The once quiet underground space turned into a warzone full of angry shouts.

Nica: Oh, I caught something good. You might look mean, but you’re a quite the compassionate fellow aren’t you?

Jude: Don’t think ya got time to chat when you’re gettin’ attacked from behind.

Man with mouth covered: …Die!

Nica: …

Less than a second after noticing the shadow on a ceiling, a gunshot rang out from Nica’s hand.

He killed his target with precision without even looking.

Nica: Unfortunately, I’m not easy to kill. You chose the wrong people to fight.

Man with eyes covered: …Shit, I thought I had you…Gah.

Jude broke the man’s jaw with the tip of his shoe.

Jude: Shaddup.

Jude: …Who the hell are ya.

Cobalt blue eyes smiled at the cold gaze.

Nica: Nica Schwartz, a member of the German Empire’s Vogel. It’s cruel that you’ve forgotten after I’ve already introduced myself. I have a glass heart you know.

Jude: I’m not imaginin’ things when I say you’re too experienced for a mere lapdog. How’d you know ‘bout his abnormal hearin’?

Nica: Don’t worry, I know about you too. Jude Jazza, the president of a trading company. A company that deals in materials and food that don’t often face changes in demand, as well as luxury items and jewelry… You’re also skilled in handling what’s trending in the market. Having a diverse range of products limits risk, so you must be making a lot of money. …Want me to keep going?

Jude: Tch, all that snoopin’s makes me sick.

Nica: You need to know someone to get along with them. Don’t you think we’d get along, Mr. President?

Nica smiled suggestively. Then, multiple footsteps approached.

It appeared that the mens’ colleagues noticed that something unusual happened in the basement and assembled.

Nica: It’s rude to interrupt when I’m trying to solicit* someone. Let’s finish you off quickly.

Jude: Careful I don’t kick you by accident, Vogel lech.

Nica: That’s my line.

Meanwhile—The noises underground haven’t reached the warehouse where the kidnapped youths were being held.

Man in a black hood: Let’s stop chatting. My client wants silent offerings.

Kate: …

I gasped at the dull glint of the knife.

Man in a black hood: Ah, yes. You lot, make sure they only get one stab in the stomach. Our client wants the bodies as clean as possible…Ugh, drugging would’ve been easier.

Another man had warned the man with the knife out.

(There are 4 people…My gun has seven rounds. I can take them)

(However)

—Am I able to kill people?

Kidnapped girl: *sob* …No, I don’t want to die…

Kidnapped boy: Me too…Getting killed…In a place like this…

(...Don’t be scared, don’t hesitate)

(They need to be condemned for taking so many lives)

To not arouse suspicion, I slowly reached under my skirt and then pulled out my gun.

(Roger gave me this gun for self-defense)

(But…Now’s the time to use it)

I hated myself for being weak.

I felt frustrated and wanted to change, so I decided to get stronger by being with Roger.

(Roger would definitely kill them all)

An image of him shouldering the guilt while taking however many lives with his rifle popped up in my mind.

(That’s why, I—these people, kill evil)

I held my gun up and placed a finger on the trigger.

(...)

But my finger was shaking—

Kate: Ah.

The bullet I resolved to fire went way off the mark and made a hole in the wall.

The hooded man turned at the sound and looked at me with my gun still aimed.

Man in a black hood: Pfft, hahahaha! You use a gun like a child playing with a toy.

Kate: Eek…

He grabbed my arm and took my gun away.

Man in a black hood: I’ll show you how you use a gun properly…When you want to kill someone.

Kate: …

The feeling of the barrel of the gun pressed against my temple was a firsthand lesson in the price of failure.

(Ah…Damn)

(So this is the end…)

The only sound I could hear was my own heartbeat, yet as I stared into the darkness, I wished that I could see Roger’s face one last time.

(Farewell, Roger…)

Letter | Next

*The word Nica uses can also mean flirt, hit on, make a pass at :3

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil roger route

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r3dcherri3s · 9 months ago

Text

Between Duty and Love

pairing: Kate Bishop x fem! reader

warnings: angst, arguing(?) reader gets mad, fluff at the end (I think that’s it? let me know if I missed something! This is my first time posting here</3)

word count: 921

summary: Kate has been spending all her time at work and has been accidentally ignoring y/n.

——————————————————————————-

Kate Bishop sat at her desk, surrounded by the remnants of her latest mission. Papers scattered, her laptop screen glowed with reports, and her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. Kate took a moment to rub her tired eyes before diving back into the pile of paper work on her desk. It was another late night of fighting off random criminals, and going back to the compound to finish up stacks of paperwork.

Meanwhile, in the shared apartment that she and her girlfriend shared, the air hung heavy with tension. The clock struck midnight, and the front door slowly creaked open, revealing her girlfriend on the other side of the door, Y/N, with a look of frustration etched on her face.

"Kate," Y/N said, her voice tight with anger.

"You promised you'd be home hours ago. What happened?" Kate looked up, guilt written across her features. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, babe. There was just this last-minute thing I had to take care of but this is important, Y/N.” Kate breathed in. “There's been a surge in criminal activity, and the team needs me—"

Y/N interrupted, her voice rising, frustration boiled over, the pent-up emotions finally bursting forth. "The team always needs you, Kate! But what about us? What about our plans? Every time we try to spend time together, you're off on some mission or buried in work."

Kate's heart sank as she realized the toll her actions were taking on their relationship. "I'm trying to keep the city safe, Y/N. You know that." Her eyebrows furrowed as she huffed out.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood still, the anger and hurt swirling inside you like a tempest. "I need someone who's here for me, not somebody who’s constantly gone. I can't keep living like this. I’m going to stay with a friend for awhile."

Kate's heart sank as she watched you turn away, the pain in your voice cutting through her like a knife. "Wait, Y/N, please. Let's talk about this."

But you were already halfway to the door, your footsteps echoing in the empty apartment. With a heavy heart, Kate sank back into her chair, the weight of your words bearing down on her like a crushing weight.

Days turned into weeks, the silence between you and Kate stretching on like an endless abyss. Each passing moment only served to deepen the rift between you, the pain of your separation a constant ache in both your hearts.

Alone in your friends apartment, you couldn't shake the memories of your time together. The laughter, the shared moments of intimacy, the feeling of being truly seen and understood. But alongside those memories lurked the pain of feeling abandoned.

Unable to bear the weight of your emotions any longer, you made a decision.

You made your way to the Avengers headquarters, where Kate had been spending most of her time lately. The familiar sight of the towering building filled you with a sense of apprehension, but you pushed forward anyways. As you approached a familiar office, you could hear the muffled sound of voices from within. With a hesitant knock, you pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room.

Kate's eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of you, her expression a mix of hope and trepidation as she quickly shot up from her seat and made her way towards you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. "I came to talk, Kate. I’m sorry." For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. You continued speaking. “I know this job means a lot to you, I know what I signed up for when we started dating..”

Then, with a resigned sigh, Kate gestured for you to take a seat next to her.

The words poured from your lips like a rushing river, the pent-up emotions finally finding release. You spoke of your hurt and your anger, of feeling neglected and unimportant in Kate's life. But beneath it all, there was a thread of love and longing, a desperate hope that things could still be salvaged between you.

Kate listened in silence, her expression pained as she took in your words. And when you were finally spent, she reached out, taking your hand in hers.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to ignore you. I've been so caught up with work that I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” Tears welled up in Kate's eyes as she spoke, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

With a shaky breath, you reached out, cupping Kate's face in your hands. "I love you, Kate. But we can't keep living like this. We need to find a balance to make time for each other."

A flicker of hope lit up Kate's eyes as she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. "I promise, Y/N. From now on, I'll make sure to balance my job and to spend time with you.”

You smiled softly and pressed your lips against Kate’s, which she happily accepted.

As the days passed, Kate kept true to her promise. She made a conscious effort to prioritize your relationship, carving out time in her busy schedule for you. Whether it was a quiet dinner at home, a simple stroll in the park, or simply curling up together on the couch to watch a movie. Kate made sure that you felt loved and cherished.

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AAAA sorry this was short 🙏

#marvel mcu #mcu #marvel #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x y/n #Kate bishop angst #Kate bishop fluff #mcu fic #marvel fic

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lostintransist · 1 month ago

Text

Liaison - Chapter 2 - Da’ Fuck is a Roadman

The worst part about your job had to be the commute. The trip to the office each day took nearly an hour. Between the two trains, one bus, and a half-mile walk any energy you might have had been used up. You did not mention to anyone on the team where you lived and that you refused to buy a car. Mostly you were sure that your years of driving on the right side of the road and turning on red lights would lead to you killing someone in a vehicular collision and would rather avoid that.

The old building you shared with three other tenets creaked every time the wind blew and your small studio in the basement required two dehumidifiers to keep mold from overtaking the space. The jaw-cracking yawn overtook you as you stepped off the bus. You make it as far as the front door before the exhaustion becomes too much. You manage to brush your teeth, rip off your bra, and toss on an overlarge shirt you stole from an ex before sleep steals you away.

The weekend slips by too quickly for your liking. You can see the emails piling up in the inbox of your work email, anything truly urgent would CC Kate who worked nonstop. You stop into a cafe on your way home from the weekend market, happy to start to recognize the barista behind the counter. Sunday afternoons you did your shopping for the week and rewarded yourself with a scone and a warm latte. The day is capped off with a video call with a friend in Maryland and by eight you are asleep.

You wake early, 4 AM the alarm goes off to make it to the office for your 6:15 call. You dress simply in jeans, rain boots, and a long-sleeved green shirt. Starting on the walk for the bus you clock the young man posted up at the edge of an alley. You keep an eye on him but don’t change course as you continue closer to where he stands.

When you get within ten feet of him he jumps out and mumbles some words at you.

Tilting your head at him you try and process the sounds you heard.

“Wanna run that by me again kid?”

He mumbles the same words, louder and makes a vaguely threatening gesture.

“Yeah, I got nothing. Good luck with whatever you need,” you step into the road to continue past him.

Mumbler jumps in front of you, shouting now.

“I’m trying to rob ya you stupid American!”

“Why didn’t you say that back there?” Hooking a thumb over your shoulder to point to where this interaction started. “Also you don’t have a gun, do you even have a knife?”

As he starts to sputter the youth in his face is evident.

“Okay, so how does this shtick work?” gesturing to all of him, you continued. “Do you just walk up to people and demand their wallets or what?”

“Yeah, give me all your money!”

Mentioning wallets seemed to re-energize him.

“No thank you,” you start walking again. If you don’t make up the lost time you will delay yourself at least fifteen minutes and might need to call a cab to make it to work for your phone call.

❈❈❈

The hardest part of your job, second only to dealing with people who didn’t understand your role, would be the lack of consistency of who might be in the office from day to day. Harold hadn’t been at his desk when you finally rolled in, already accepting the call you had scheduled for this morning in the lobby. You waved to the one person at a computer as you dumped your things and asked for a moment of patience from everyone on the call as your headphones connected.

The call dragged on for nearly an hour as you stayed on mute replying to emails. When a question could not be answered by anyone else you jumped into the conversation, explaining you had three options for a team that would fit their needs. At this point, you would need a timeline and payment. Confirming the email address took another five minutes, back and forth. When the call wrapped up the clock ticked closer to 9 AM.

Letting your head slam against the desk you took a series of deep breaths. A message tone dinged from your computer. Looking up you found a message from someone named Roach.

>Calls that bad?

Turning you catch sight of the person who had been in the office when you arrived.

“You Roach?”

>That’s me.

Masked and covered from head to toe, the man looked as innocent as a bloodied tiger. You saw a lot of men like that lately. Something about this job had them covering up more than a nun in a convent.

“Okay, I’m still meeting everyone. And no? The call wasn’t that bad but I ended up being late because some fucker I think tried to rob me?” After explaining the whole situation this morning to Roach he sends you a message through the chatting platform.

>You met a roadman.

“Da’ fuck is a roadman?” Incredulity had become a familiar state since moving to England.

Staring at Roach you wait for his typed response. He looks at you, makes a face beneath his mask, bobs his head from shoulder to shoulder, sighs, and puts his fingers on the keys.

>A roadman is what you might call a mugger in the US.

“No, a mugger has a gun or a knife and can back up his threats. That child told me to give him all my money and couldn’t even find a decent threat to make me comply. All the bastard did was make me late.”

Roach’s only reply to this is a hearty shrug.

A voice from behind has both you and Roach spinning in place.

“Liaison I need a contract confirmed,” someone barked at you.

The demand hits wrong after the roadman incident and the achingly long call. You turn to see a large man, again in a mask, staring at you from near the door. This mask looked hard, the upper face half of a skull. This must be Ghost; Kate had warned you about him.

“I must have missed the question in that statement, care to try again?”

Roach’s brows nearly touch his hairline as he quickly averts his gaze.

The tall, broad Lieutenant moved faster than his shape would indicate he could. He looms over you, hard skull and eye black leaving no color beyond the whites of his eyes.

“Did I stutter Liaison?”

“No, but you might need to if you try to tell me what to do without asking again.” You flick a nail against his mask. “Now if you’ll excuse me I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Slipping from beneath Ghost’s shoulders you make it two steps before his hand wraps around your bicep. Snapping back to look at him you contemplate the wisdom of punching him.

“Ghost! Let her go,” Price’s command splits the air.

He lets you go with exaggerated care. You flip him the bird, hiding the move from Price using your body. You stalk up to Price who is staring Ghost down over your shoulder.

“Did he hurt you?” Price asks as you draw near. He wasn’t Ghost’s captain but had recently been promoted to work directly below the elusive Sheppard. You tried to keep up on who worked under who but with so many moving parts you had to check your spreadsheets every time you had a question.

“No, I’m fine. But next time the meathead needs something from me tell him to send an email and to use all his manners.” You sweep past Price and head for the kitchen. Might as well start some bread so you can beat something up.

That second interaction with Ghost solidified the tone of your relationship. The same day he threatened you with his size and laid hands on you he found you in the kitchen. You pulled the tray of rolls out of the oven when he spoke.

“I’ll take one of those.”

Without pausing to consider you shut the oven softly and tip the hot pan over, spilling the steaming buns onto the floor. You don’t even try to make it look like an accident.

“Whoops. Guess you forgot to ask for something you wanted.”

You ignored the fuming soldier behind you as you set the hot pan on the stove to cool and cover the dough and place it in the fridge for later. You gave it an hour before checking back to find the kitchen clear and cleaned up the rolls from the floor.

Three weeks later you are pulled from an important email by a fist in your hair. Ghost growls in your face.

“What the hell did you agree to with Sarcosis?”

A wince you can’t stop slips. “Hair pulling is a kinky thing for me Ghost, you ready to follow up on this offer?”

Disgusted, he lets you go. Then Soap is there, pushing between you two. Rubbing the back of your head you decide to answer. He did ask a question after all.

“Sarcosis needs to borrow one man, someone who can play spotter for one of their snipers. Job is less than three days. I wrangled a favor to borrowing one of their men if we ever need ‘em.”

“Why take the job?” Soap peers over his shoulder, hand still firmly placed on Ghost.

“All Keith is asking for is an impartial set of eyes to confirm a kill. They aren’t on the no-fly list. Do they need to be?”

“No-fly list?” This question comes from Ghost.

“Yeah, the no-fly list.” You pop open a sticky note from your screen, enlarging both the note and the words you let the men read the list you got from Kate. “Taking jobs with these guys won’t fly, hence the no-fly list.”

Ghost takes a deep breath, tucking the demon’s demeanor back behind his vest. Soap lets his hand drop back to his sides.

“Now if all this excitement is over I am going back to my emails,” turning your back to the men you return your screen to normal and type away at your ongoing email.

Roach sends you a message that you see but don’t reply to.

>Sarcosis nearly got Ghost killed on their last job, might want to flag them for your no-fly list.

Ghost and Soap stand behind you for an uncomfortably long time. When they eventually move you pull your headphones on and settle into the chaos of never-ending emails.

❈❈❈

It took you six months to figure out the rules for jobs. You had asked Kate, repeatedly. Each time she gave an answer about whether to accept or reject, you would question her. Why accept this job and not this one? Over and over you asked and the answer always amounted to a feeling. Vibes. You took notes on every call and Kate’s decision since she couldn’t articulate why to accept one job over another. She had worked with the 141 for so long that she had a sense for these things.

Those six months were grueling, but you found a pattern. The price of a job could be relied upon to weed out anything the team wouldn’t take. The numbers broke down to roughly £20,000 per man per job. The more complicated the explanation the more guys you figured would be needed. That rule of thumb would be right more often than not.

The guys would take rescue missions but were better equipped to handle situations where there would be no witnesses. They worked well with teams from most companies and governments but there were a few that several men refused to work with again. It was a small list but the fact you recognized each name on sight often gave you a queasy sensation in your stomach.

Enough of the team would submit requests to take one job or another you had to start a running list of preferences and skills. Pinning down hard skills turned into a bit of an issue so you had a self-reported list and a list of skills reported by others. The sheer number of interconnected spreadsheets and the random formulas learned to create boggled your mind. Once one of the members of the accounting team, Doreen, saw your massive spreadsheet she collected the general information known about the office to add to your knowledge pool. She also helped you break out the information about each member into a separate file that fed into your master sheet. Doreen, for as old as she was, had a vast understanding of spreadsheets. The search function would become a new god in your role.

Chapter 1 |

Masterlist

@nicroyal02 Chapter 26 is up on A03

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #price x reader #konig x reader

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