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averagewriter-inthedark · 3 months ago

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The Widow's Bite of Love🕷️ | Johnny Storm Imagine

Link to my Marvel masterlist | part 2 here

Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x black widow!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic).

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, flirtatious banter, mentions of canon violence, canon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 2.7k

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Having returned from an intense mission with the Fantastic Four, Johnny Storm receives a welcome home from his girlfriend that's both a reminder to always remember making his presence known, and that behind her rough exterior there's a softness reserved only for him.

note: yeah, Joseph's Johnny Storm already has me in a chokehold and the movie isn't even out yet. I'm having to improvise of course since we don't know much but I'm having fun creating AUs in the meantime. Enjoy 💌

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Johnny knew better than to not announce himself when he entered the apartment past midnight after returning home from a week's long mission. It’d take him a second to shout, “Honey, I’m home!” but all the energy in him was exhausted. The mission took longer than planned. He was bruised and covered in dried blood from superficial cuts to his face and shoulders. Staining the crisp blue and white suit he wore. All he wanted was to get out of the suit, spend an hour in the shower, and bury himself under the covers to sleep until the end of time.

However, that would have to wait.

As Johnny practically dragged his feet across the floor in the direction of his bedroom, forgetting to turn on the main light in the living room, he was knocked off his feet with a knee to his stomach. “Ummph!!”

His attacker pushed him into a wall, his body ricocheting off and dodging the next kick which would’ve hit his side. Their arms wrapped around him, maneuvering him with brute force to put him on his back and Johnny groaned at the pain that shot up his spine. He may not have broken any bones but that didn’t mean he was in great condition.

Using what little strength he had, Johnny put his whole body in pushing the figure off him. They let out a grunt and Johnny froze. It was hard to see, but there was something familiar about the moves his attacker was throwing at him and the familiar grunt that echoed in his ears. Then he caught a glimpse of their side profile thanks to the moonlight flickering in from the living room blinds.

‘Oh fuck…’

Johnny scrambled up and he heard her do the same. But whereas he raced to the light switch, she went to the coffee table and Johnny felt his blood drain. Thankfully he reached the switch first, flicking it on right as a dreading *click* filled the space.

“Baby!” his hands waved frantically, matching the tremor in his tone. “It’s me, baby! It’s Johnny!” The gun trained on him hesitated, and Johnny let out a breath of relief when he saw the instant recognition in her face. The relief only lasted a second though, because then he winced as it was replaced by fury.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny!! I could’ve killed you!!” Her scream echoed off the walls and matched her eyes full of wrath. “What the fuck did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that?!”

“I know! I know--I’m sorry!” his hands stayed up, threatening to fall down but he didn’t want to use any sudden movements knowing she was pumped full of adrenaline. Judging by the sweats and tank top she wore plus the wildness of her hair, she had to have been asleep and heard him come in. Sending her into agent mode. “I--I was distracted and I forgot to shout. I didn’t know if you were--I don’t…I don’t…” the words struggled to fall. His mind, fogged with fatigue, was racing with thoughts making it difficult for Johnny to get a grasp on them.

Plus, his heart was pumping from nearly being shot by his girlfriend.

Y/n, taking in his appearance fully for the first time since their unorthodox reunion, frowned and clicked the safety on the gun, tossing it on the coffee table where it’s usually hidden. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at you like that without confirming--.” Johnny gently cut her off.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for.” His arms fell to his side as he moved to ease his body on the armchair closest to him. Every muscle in him screamed, and while the fire that consumed his veins helped, it wasn’t enough. “It’s one in the morning. You were probably asleep and I knew better than to just walk in and expect you to know immediately that it was me. After all,” he grunted with a wince, watching as she moved to the kitchen to flick on the kettle before approaching him. “We were supposed to be back two days ago.”

“Yeah I figured something went wrong when Sue refused to answer my calls,” her body crouched down so she was level with his knees. “I was tempted to come after you guys.”

“Why didn’t you?” he leaned forward with a wince, smiling sheepishly at her look at disapproval. He obviously wasn’t great at hiding his pain from her.

“Because you always have everything under control. You’d pull through,” she assessed his features, glowering at the cuts that marked his skin painted with dried blood. The splotches on his suit and slight tears in the fabric. “Looks like this time you had a little more cut out for ya.”

Johnny chuckled, “you could say that.” The whistle of the kettle sounded, and Y/n got up to begin making Johnny a cup of herbal tea. Handing him the steaming mug before squatting once more. The heat of the cup was comforting, and thanks to his powers Johnny didn’t have to worry about burning his tongue when he took the first sip. “Thank you, darling.”

Her hand came to his cheek, making him lean into her touch as she pressed a kiss to his temple that was free of blood. His bottom lip was bruised with a small abrasion, so she refrained from kissing his mouth and instead left one on the corner. Laughing when he tried to catch her lips, but she pulled away causing him to groan.

“Wait here and drink your tea while I go run you a bath,” she squeezed his knee as she started to stand.

“Wait, no, no, no, baby--I don’t need a bath.” His hand snatched hers before she could walk away. Y/n let him hold her in place, but her brow raised with a knowing look. Johnny gave her his best puppy dog eyes, “The shower is perfectly fine and you have training in the morning. You go back to bed--I’ll be fine.”

Y/n scoffed lightly, “Bold of you to assume I’m not taking the day off, Johnny Storm. You just got back and I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least three days.” His face flushed red, causing a smirk to appear on her. “Plus, as if I need training. You and I both know it’s really for my sparring partners. Not me.”

“Which is why--,” he pulled her forward, letting his chin rest on her stomach as he tilted his head up. Sighing when her hands cupped his cheeks. “They are counting on you. You’re the best person for the job, Widow.”

“I’m off the clock,” Y/n smirked at the name, fingers going up to his hair to smooth it out. “That name only works on me when I’m on. Now stop trying to switch the subject.” She scolded, stepping away despite his refusal. “You’re going to drink this tea, get out of this suit and have a nice hot bath. Then you’re going to bed and sleep the rest of the day. Got it?” She left no room for argument, and Johnny wasn’t going to attempt, nodding with a tired yawn.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she leaned down to kiss his temple one last time. “Don’t move till I tell you to.” The response she got was a lazy two finger salute, and Y/n retreated to their bathroom. As the water filled the tub, she went to Johnny’s drawers to remove a t-shirt, sweatpants, and boxers, placing the clothes on the countertop before grabbing a packet of Epsom salt, bottle of bubble bath, lavender oil, a fluffy towel, a face towel and some candles from the cabinet. She also made sure to grab the first aid kit hidden beneath the sink.

She poured the bubble bath liquid once the water reached about ⅓ of the tub. Then lit the candles and placed them on the stained-glass windowsill. Shutting the water off when it got just below the brim of the tub, Y/n poured a cup of the Epsom salt and let it sit for a minute before returning to the living room.

“Alright, pretty boy, let’s get you cleaned up.” The smile on Johnny’s face was enough to light up a galaxy. If someone would’ve told him when he first gained powers rivaling the sun that his heart would be captured by a woman with deadly skills like the spider she’s named after, he’d say they had lost their mind. But the universe had a funny way of proving him wrong.

Carrying the brute of his weight, Y/n’s left arm went over his shoulders while the other wrapped over the front of his waist. Encouraging him to lean on her as she helped him off the chair and to the bathroom, “Baby, we’ve been over this before, you’re not going to hurt me,” she grumbled when he tried to keep himself steady.

Eventually they made it to the bathroom, perching Johnny on the edge of the tub where Y/n unzipped his suit and got it down to his torso before turning to allow him some privacy while he removed the rest and eased into the water.

“All good?” she asked, opening the first aid kit to retrieve bandages and alcohol pads.

“Yeah,” he moaned, welcoming the hot water as it hugged him. Instantly soothing the strained muscles that were already relaxing. Yeah the shower would’ve been a bad idea. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do for putting you down when you were already,” Y/n’s tone was apologetic, and Johnny gave her a look. Silently telling her to stop being sorry for the incident ten minutes prior. Y/n dismissed his look, bringing the wipes and bandages over as she took a seat on the stool beside the tub. “Also, how many times have you done this for me?” Now it was Johnny’s turn to smirk.

“A few, give or take.” More like a dozen. Y/n’s returned back from missions covered in blood and bruises so much that Johnny’s already got the bath set when her jet lands.

“Exactly,” she says with a hum, bringing his face toward with one hand while the other gathers water on the face cloth. “Now let me take care of you.”

For the next 40 minutes, Johnny soaked in the bath as Y/n wiped the blood off him and tended to his wounds. She washed his hair while he relayed the details of the mission. Telling her how he came to be all battered and bruised thanks to an explosion he didn’t anticipate, too close to the line of fire. With the lavender oil Y/n massaged his shoulders and back, paying careful attention to the bruising so as to not hurt him any further.

When she was all done, Y/n pressed soft kisses all over his face. The contours of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows. His temple, his jaw, the corner of his lips. By the end of it Johnny was begging for her mouth on his. He craved it. Going as far as to murmur, “Please, baby,” when she pecked his chin. Eventually Y/n caved in. Meeting his plush lips for a shot, but sweet, tender kiss. There was a bit of pain on Johnny’s end due to the cut, but he didn’t care. He needed this.

The water remained warm due to his elevated body temperature, but once satisfied Johnny got out of the tub and dressed while Y/n put everything back in its place. The two then left the bathroom, Y/n flicking the lights off on their way out and led Johnny to the bed. “Oh,” he moaned just like the bath, relishing the feeling of the plush mattress gave him. It felt like laying on a cloud. “That’s so nice.”

Y/n laughed, urging him further into the bed so she could pull the comforter over his torso. Practically tucking him in before moving around to her side, joining him under the covers. Instantly Johnny pushes himself onto his side to curl up against Y/n, who laid on her back and welcomed him with opened arms. As he tucked his face in the area by her shoulder and neck, one hand went to her stomach to sneak his hand beneath her tank top and rest it on her waist.

“You know tonight reminded me of the first time we met.” He spoke after a minute, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her fingers move to card through his blonde hair. The action made him shudder, pressing himself further into her side.

Her chuckle made his body move slightly, a teasing tone in her reply, “You mean when I tried to kill you?” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it caused his own to appear.

Johnny remembered it like it was yesterday. He and the Fantastic Four were on a mission to locate a highly dangerous radioactive substance that could level an entire country. Recovering it was crucial God forbid it landed in the wrong hands. So they should’ve expected they weren’t the only ones after it.

Something they found out the hard way.

During the extraction, Johnny found himself face to face with the barrel of the gun in the hands of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Dressed in a black tactical suit with too many weapons for him to count and a stare enough to send him to the grave. Johnny felt a bunch of emotions at once. From fear at having a gun on him, to confusion at the red hourglass on her belt.

The encounter ended with Johnny getting a taste of what he would come to know as the widow’s bite. An electroshock weapon via gauntlets on her arms. Strong enough to put Johnny on his ass allowing her to escape with the package. The next day during the Four’s debrief, they discovered her identity.

Her name was Y/n L/n. A highly trained and enhanced assassin of the now disbanded and classified program, the Red Room. Called the Black Widow, Y/n was an expert marksman, master of weaponry, professional in hand-to-hand combat and possessed equipment the Fantastic Four had never seen. The files indicated she’d been a key part in the dismantling of several European governments and linked to a dozen political assassinations. The records alone were enough to make their skin crawl. And frankly the Four were confused as it was common knowledge that when the Red Room disbanded, they killed all the Black Widows under their command to prevent their secrets from getting out.

Turns out, they missed one. Who happened to be their best asset ever produced.

Why was she after a radioactive substance? They didn’t know. But whatever it was they needed to find out fast and locate her before whoever she was working for got it.

Their answer took weeks to uncover. And when they did the events following resulted in Y/n turning on the man she initially stole the package for and aligning with the Fantastic Four to bring him down. Initially they were suspicious, naturally so. Y/n was a spy, breaded and forged to become the best Black Widow the Red Room had ever produced. She was formidable, highly intelligent. A weapon in her own right.

But she was their best chance at beating the guy. She knew his weaknesses. Knew his plans. It was an unlikely alliance, but the odds were against them.

That was years ago. Now after saving the world too many times to count and nearly losing their lives, the assassin turned agent laid in Johnny’s bed in their shared apartment of Baxter’s Building. Holding him in her arms with a softness that took his breath away. The complete opposite of the threatening aura she possessed in the field.

“I love you, Y/n,” He breathed into the night as sleep overtook him. Succumbing to the exhaustion as his heart fluttered at the feeling of her lips attached one last time to his forehead.

“And I love you, my darling Johnny Storm.”

#johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm imagine #mcu johnny storm #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm x female!reader #black widow!reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fluff #fantastic four imagine #fantastic four fanfiction #fantastic four fanfic #joseph quinn imagine

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wynnerwynner · 1 month ago

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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑

joaquin torres x fem!military!reader

synposis: y/n and joaquin are reunited years after breaking off their engagement for a mission requiring her set of skills.

request: yes

warnings: brief descriptions of gore, angst (happy ending, dw), use of the word s*icide once

wc: 3k

a/n: was gonna make this into two parts but after editing i decided not to! i apologize if things feel rushed i honestly was fighting for my life trying to come up with a plot 😃 i hope you enjoy jen <3

“What do you got for me, kid?”

“We’re gonna need backup,” Joaquin sighed, pushing the end of his pen into his temple until it clicked.

“What do you mean ‘we’re gonna need backup’?”

Joaquin sat back in his swivel chair, adjusting his phone against his ear. “The base’s security systems are too advanced. I haven’t seen anything like this before. Look, I know someone from high school who could crack this sort of thing.”

“Oh, no,” Sam laughed incredulously. “No, no. We’re not letting any of your buddies in on a top-secret mission,”

“She’s not a buddy!” Joaquin hesitated, eyeing the multitude of screens before him. “She’s, uh…”

“She’s your ex, isn’t she?”

Joaquin shot forward, nearly banging his elbow on the desk, “Maybe, but that’s beside the point.” He heard Sam’s loud laugh on the other end and cringed inwardly. “Look, she’s military. She’s DIA—”

“You’re talking about enemy territory here, Joaquin.”

“I know, I know, just… just trust me, okay? She might work for the government but she’s never really ‘worked for the government’.”

“Yeah, I know those kinds,” said Sam. “So why’d you break up?”

Joaquin searched the small room for some sort of way out.

“She broke up with you, didn’t she?”

“Hey, why do you just assume she broke up with me? Am I not capable of breaking up with someone?”

“You’re getting defensive, Joaquin,” Sam’s loud laugh echoed across the line. “And what makes you think she’d wanna talk to your ass?”

“Well, she won’t but she’d like to talk to Captain America’s.”

“Oh, no, don’t you go dragging me in the middle of whatever happened between you two—”

“I’m not! I’m not. I swear,” he defended. “She always liked Black Widow and—and Anonymous. Natasha Romanoff was basically her idol. She’s likely seen that you have your own agenda despite the shield so she’d listen to you more than me.”

Joaquin bit into his pen as he listened to the silence from Sam’s end.

“Fine. We’re to meet her in person, though. Keep it light.”

“You got it, Cap.”

Joaquin ended the call and pulled up his contacts. He typed in her name and stared at the profile, his thumb hovering over the phone button as anxiety roiled his gut. It had been years since they’d last spoken and the thought of breaking their no-contact felt like breaking a sanctioned rule. If he called her and she picked up, what did that mean?

It meant nothing.

“Hi.”

Y/N said it like a question, but he could hear that she also had an inkling as to who it could be. She deleted his number from her phone, he guessed, or maybe changed his contact name. Joaquin realized he hadn’t said anything when she said his name, this time without assumption in her tone.

“Hi,” he said like the word was beaten out of him. “Uh, hi. Y/N. Um…”

“Are you drunk again?”

“Uh, no,” he scratched the back of his head a little too hard. “No, I am not drunk this time. Uh…”

He heard a creak from her end of the line that he recognized a little too well. She still had her old office chair. Joaquin imagined her sitting back in it, the chair leaning back from her weight.

“I need to ask a favour—”

“Right,” she chuckled incredulously.

He was losing her again.

“No, no. I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry. God,” he dropped his forehead to the desk with a thump. “Uh, Captain America needs a favour.”

“Captain America?” she said, feigning excitement. “I didn’t know you were a superhero.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, the new falcon,” he said proudly to the underside of his desk.

“I know, Joaquin.”

“Yes, you do. Right,” he dropped his head against the wood again.

“If Captain America needs my help, why isn’t he contacting me directly?”

“Because,” he drawled, fighting to think of an explanation. “Because I am his guy in the chair and I recommended you to him.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question—”

“Look, Y/N, I know things are… weird between us but I wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t important. Please.”

The chair creaked again and he heard footsteps. She was pacing.

“I can’t talk about it while we’re on record so please, just… whatever works for you, Cap and I will meet you in person.”

He could hear her breathing. He could see her pacing in her room, fingernail between her teeth as she thought. He heard tapping, then his phone vibrated.

“Check your messages.”

The line went quiet and he pulled his phone from his ear to see she’d ended the call.

From a random number, he read: Benjamin Grenup Monument. Tomorrow, 10am.

The next morning, Joaquin and Sam made their way through a cemetery.

“Judging by the fact that we’re fifteen minutes early,” said Sam, “I’d assume you’re a little excited.”

“I’m not excited.”

He was a little excited.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to jump out of your pants?”

Joaquin’s head whipped to him, his eyes narrowed. “Why would you word it like that?”

They stopped before the monument, the graveyard empty save for a young man at a grave a couple yards away.

“Well how else am I meant to word it?” Sam asked, raising his chin. “You look like you have ants in your pants.”

“See, you could have just said that. Instead you had to make it weird—”

“You’re early.”

Y/N walked up to them with her hands in her vest pockets, zipper up to her chin to ward off the cool wind. She exposed a bare hand to rid the hair from her eyes.

“You must be Y/N,” Sam stepped forward.

“And you’re Captain America,” she shook his hand, a small smile on her lips.

Should he shake her hand? No, that’s too formal. Should he wave? No, that’s weird.

“Hi,” he croaked.

Sam’s head slowly spun around, the word “dude” stamped across his expression.

“Is someone gonna tell me why I’m here?” she asked.

It had been almost six years since he last saw her and yet she still looked the same. His heart ached at the sight of her.

“Uh…” he fumbled.

“First,” Sam saved him, “I want to know why this kid thinks so highly of you.”

Y/N glanced at Joaquin, “I’d like to know that, too.”

Joaquin cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N was top of our class in high school. Joined the army right out of graduation, became a sergeant, was then recruited by INSCOM.”

“Why INSCOM?” Sam asked curiously.

“I’m really good at coding,” she answered with a nod, eyes wide in emphasis. “I also solved a couple of cold cases. Turns out recruiters turn a blind eye to legality when it comes to uncovering terrorists.”

“That’s not all,” Joaquin interjected, closing the distance between them.

Y/N stared at him. To Sam, her gaze was blank, but to Joaquin it was a warning.

“What’s…” Sam looked between them, “I feel like I’m interrupting something.”

Y/N’s leg bounced and her eyes narrowed. Joaquin nodded in reassurance.

“When the Blip happened,” she began, “life insurance skyrocketed, payments wouldn’t go out. They said because there was no body, no evidence, they wouldn’t pay. Suicide reached a record-breaking peak around the world in all of recorded history; homelessness, violence, and crime included.”

“So you lended a hand,” said Sam.

Y/N smiled, but there was no joy behind it. “I did.”

“I’m assuming your employers don’t know.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It wasn’t just me, anyway. I know some who made millions, but I didn’t want a pay off. It wasn’t fair that I sat back with my talents and didn’t use them in a time of need. I helped families off the streets, paid for spots in retirement homes…”

“So what have you been doing since everyone came back?”

Y/N looked around, her tongue darting out to her bottom lip. The young man from earlier had left, leaving just them.

“Iron Man did more harm than good when he brought everyone back,” she said. “My parents were on a plane to Hawaii when they were snapped.”

Joaquin’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He hadn’t known. How could he? Maybe he should’ve reached out when the Blip happened. Another regret to add to the list.

“I went through it all over again,” she continued. “What was left of us were doing triple the work, if not more, for less pay. I lost my apartment; I had to get roommates again. But the insurance companies saved a buck so it really wasn’t all that bad, right?”

“I didn’t know,” Joaquin said.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” said Sam.

She shook her watch out from under her sleeve. “Now that I’ve told you my life story, it’s your turn. You’re running out of time here.”

“There’s this terrorist organization we’ve been tasked of uncovering,” Joaquin explained. “We found their base but it’s protected by some sort of electromagnetic field connected to a coded security system. We need you to come with us to the facility. If you get close enough, you’ll be able to hook up to the servers and find your way through. We’ll provide you with a weapon in case it gets messy.”

Y/N looked back and forth between them. “What do you think I am, some kind of Avenger? I haven’t been out in the field in years. I do everything at a desk.”

Joaquin glanced to Sam. “No?”

“That’s right. Good luck, guys. Bye, Joa—”

“I fucked up.” Joaquin’s words made her freeze. He stared at her back in desperation. “I—I’m aware of that. I don’t deserve your help, but Sam does. Don’t say no just because I’m involved. You do this for Sam and I’ll block your number. I’ll move states, if you want me to. You’ll never have to hear from me again.”

“Damn, Joaquin, what’d you do, man?” Sam whispered.

Y/N turned on her heel. “He wouldn’t stop doing stupid shit,” she answered. “I was tired of fearing for my fiancé’s life.”

Sam stared down Joaquin with wide, shocked eyes.

Joaquin prayed to every god known to man that Y/N would hear him out. She was thinking hard—he could tell by the way she tucked her mouth behind the neck of her vest. Her eyes roved the ground a moment before she looked up again.

“Fine,” she said to Sam. Her eyes caught Joaquin’s, the first time in years she properly looked him in the eye. “You owe me. Big time.”

***

A couple days later, Joaquin, Sam, and Y/N met in the tree line surrounding an abandoned warehouse.

“You should see an energy shield around the building,” Sam said through the coms, circling the perimeter of the tree line in the sky.

“Roger,” Y/N typed away on her computer.

Joaquin watched the warehouse beside her, hands on his hips as he observed any signs of activity.

“They have an alarm system attached to it,” she informed. “You’ll have thirty seconds to get in before it guards all entry again.”

“All right, it’s just a quick in and out, Joaquin,” said Sam. “Incapacitate the soldiers, the authorities will do the rest.”

“Got it,” Joaquin replied. “Go ahead,” he nodded to Y/N.

He watched as she continued working on the computer. It felt like they were back in high school. Whenever he couldn’t find her, he’d go to the library. She was always sat at a table surrounded by books or before a computer, chin in her hand as she focused on the screen.

“Y/N,” he found himself saying.

“What?” she didn’t take her eyes off the device.

“I’m sorry.”

Her head cocked, “I’m sure you are.”

“I mean it, Y/N. I really am sorry.” She glanced at him and he took it as an invitation to continue. “I wish I could have been there for you during the Blip. It wasn’t fair you had to go through that alone. It isn’t fair you’re still going through it alone.”

Y/N looked him up and down, eyeing his Falcon suit. “If you make it out of this alive, there’s this new food truck near my old apartment. We can talk about it all, then.”

A smile brightened Joaquin’s face. “That sounds good.”

“But no stupid shit, Joaquin,” she pointed at him warningly like she had so many times before. “No showing off. I know you’re a superhero now but I will make you move countries if you act like you’re invincible.”

“Yep. Got it. No stupid shit,” he said quickly, clapping his hands together once.

“All right, boys, you’ve got thirty seconds in five… fo—”

Joaquin darted from the trees, staying low as he approached.

Three… two… one.

“Grid is down,” said Y/N.

Silence, then a crash as Sam shattered through the skylight. Joaquin kicked the door in, stepping into the chaos of the armed men inside. Within a couple of minutes, they had them restrained and disarmed. As Joaquin was checking pulses, sirens signalling the arrival of authorities rang out.

“Oh, shit—” From Y/N’s end of the line, two gunshots went off, echoing up the slight slope to the warehouse.

“Y/N, you all right?” Joaquin asked.

A wave of heat came over his limbs as pure adrenaline took over him.

“Sergeant Y/LN, come in,” Sam pressed his finger to his com.

Another round of shots went off and Joaquin booked it. He shoved past men in full armour as they made their way into the building. The grass, still slippery from the morning dew, caused him to slide and he tripped into the trees. A man in a ghillie suit lay dead, half his face blown off and his suit soaked with blood around his throat.

Heavy breathing and a whine of pain caught Joaquin’s attention. Y/N lay beside her dropped laptop, the screen shattered with a bullet hole through the middle. Dark, red blood spilled from her stomach.

“Shit,” Joaquin dropped to his knees hard on the sticks and leaves. He shouted and screamed for help, putting enough pressure on the wound to possibly break a rib.

“I don’t wanna die,” Y/N cried, gripping his suit like he was the only thing anchoring her to the earth. “I don’t wanna die. Don’t let me die, Joaquin.”

“I’ve got you, Y/N, you’re going to be fine,” he said as tears sprung to his eyes.

“I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go.”

For the first time, Joaquin realized exactly how Y/N felt anytime he came home with bruises or scrapes. He used to only be able to imagine what she felt when she got a call he’d been injured on the field. He knew, now, how horrible it felt. It was like ice weaving through his veins yet it made his heart feel on fire. He was sure there was a fire starting in his lungs.

Medics rushed toward them, convincing him to move aside so they could start their work.

“Don’t let me go,” she panicked, gripping his hand.

“I won’t,” he trembled, squeezing her back. “I won’t, I promise.”

The only time Joaquin let go of her hand was so they could put her on the stretcher. In the ambulance, she fought for consciousness. Despite his pleading and coaxing, she closed her eyes. It was hours in the uncomfortable waiting room chair before the surgeon spoke to him. He’d handed over his information and when the receptionist declined his request to cover her expenses because he was merely considered intelligence, not an active-duty Captain, Sam talked his way into covering it.

Joaquin remained by her side in the hospital room until she woke up.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching for her hand.

Joaquin instinctively reached for her face with his free one. He’d brushed hair out of her eyes so many times that it’d become a habit to just caress the skin at her temple. Years later and it was still with him.

“What happened?” she croaked.

“Um, you had some internal bleeding,” he explained, clearing his throat as tears burned the back of his eyes. “They got the bullet out but you’ve been out a little while. You should be discharged tomorrow.”

“I can’t afford this, Joaquin,” she tried to push herself up. “I can’t pay—”

“No, Y/N—” Joaquin pushed her gently back down. He squeezed her hand, running the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s all right. You don’t have to pay for anything.”

Her eyes bounced back and forth between his. “Don’t tell me you paid.”

“Sam handled it. As you said,” he sniffed, “I owed you.”

She sighed, gazing down at their hands.

“Y/N, you could’ve died,” Joaquin breathed.

“Well, now you know how it felt.”

It was like a knife to the chest.

“I did—I do.” He shook his head, a tear trailing down his cheek. “I can’t say how sorry I am. I… I never wanted to hurt you. I loved you… so much. I still love you.”

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand under her eyes.

“I understand if you don’t,” he continued, “but if you’re willing to try again, I’ll put down the wings. I’ll stop. I’ll find a different career. Anything you want.”

“Joaquin.” Y/N lifted her free hand to place it on top of his. “I would never ask you to give up your dreams. I’ve only ever wanted you to remember that I needed you, too. I need you. Do you understand that?”

Joaquin nodded stiffly, bringing her fingers to his lips. She cupped his cheek and his eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. He entwined his fingers with hers over the back of her hand and kissed her palm.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbled against her skin.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she replied through silent tears.

“I’m assuming this means we’re still on for the food truck?”

Y/N laughed and it brought a smile to Joaquin’s face. The air between them felt lighter and it almost made him want to cry more.

“Yes, we’re still on for the food truck.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres imagine #the falcon #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres fic #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #captain america #brave new world #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres fanfic

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valenteal · 11 months ago

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I know that the mha fandom kinda had to make up shit for Hawks because his backstory came out slowly but I really wish it hadn’t taken over. As far as I am aware the HPSC doesn’t torture him or have super strict control of his life anymore. Obviously they groomed him and trained him properly pretty brutally but I don’t think they’re unnecessarily cruel. They wouldn’t want to risk him turning against them and with how young they got him the don’t need to.

Hawks is Lady Nagant’s replacement, meaning all the people she would’ve been sent to assassinate he took care of. Corrupt heroes who needed to be silenced, political enemies, criminals with ideas to dangerous like the league and the mla, he was sent to kill them. Hawks is an assassin and a spy with a background reminiscent of Black Widow. That’s traumatizing enough and I wish I could find more fics that address that rather than him being overworked and pushed to be perfect to the point of mutilation.

Cause like— Hawks isn’t a perfect golden boy? Where did people get that idea? That would be like All Might or Best Jeanist. Hawks is super socially awkward and covers it up with bravado and ends up coming off as rude. In terms of social experience he’s at the same place as Shouto if he never went to UA. He has no idea what he’s doing, he’s just winging it and everyone ignores it because he flashes a pretty smile. He’s like completely tactless.

I don’t think the commission even intended for him to be so high ranking, he’s just too damn good at his job and too pretty for his own good. He was supposed to be an assassin and an infiltrator and being so high profile is not conducive to that.

Anyway those are my thoughts on Hawks, I love him and I love Dabihawks but god do I wish there weren’t so few fics that actually use their canon characterization, or as close as you can get with a Dabihawks fic since canonically they hate each other. But their like so perfect from a narrative standpoint, they could be each other’s perfect foil with all the parallels and similarities in their backstories!

#character analysis #analysis #mha #my hero academia #hero public safety commission #hpsc #mha hawks #keigo takami #hawks #he’s a professional killer people!#canon vs fanon #canon #dabi #touya todoroki #my ramblings #i got like four hours of sleep and I just woke up sorry if this is a mess #lady nagant #almost forgot that one

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matt-murdockk · 1 month ago

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Killshot 0.1 | Welcome to New York

it's been waiting for you

series masterlist | full masterlist

matt murdock x black widow! reader | fluff | words: 2.7k | fic from reader's pov

summary: Killshot, meet Nelson, Murdock, and Page (ft. a very special appearance from Yelena Belova— we'll be seeing a lot of her).

I don't think there was ever a place I could call home. Be it the constant torture, shit ton of missions and moving around or whatever, I either never stuck around at one place long enough to call it home, or when I did, it didn't exactly go well. The closest thing I had to a home was my family. Not my mom and dad or whatever, never met them, don't care. My family, as in, the people who made even hell feel okay. The Avengers.

New York chewed me up and spat me out more times than I can count. I’ve bled in these streets. I’ve fought aliens, assassins, war criminals, gods. I’ve lost friends. I've lost Natasha. I've lost Tony. I've lost... a version of myself I don't think I’ll ever get back.

And still— here I am.

You’d think I’d run far away from this place. Most people would. But there’s something about this city. Something about the way it doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t care what you’ve done or who you were before. As long as you keep your head down and pay rent on time, New York minds its own damn business.

It’s loud. It’s grimy. It smells weird. But it’s honest. And after everything, I think that’s what I wanted most— something that didn’t pretend to be something it’s not.

So I found a shoebox apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s not much. Leaky ceiling, noisy neighbors, the usual city soundtrack of sirens and someone yelling outside at 2 a.m. But it’s mine. My furniture. My mugs. My books. My life.

And now— my bookstore.

Yeah. A fucking bookstore. Can you believe it?

Turns out peace and quiet isn't a myth. It's just extremely underrated and criminally underfunded. But I saved up. I fought for it. And now, every morning, I unlock the door to a space that smells like coffee and paper and safety. It's quaint, it's cozy, it's so goddamn peaceful.

It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself in a long, long time.

And for once, I think I’m okay.

——————————————————————————————————

It was just past nine when I got to the bookstore— keys in one hand, half-spilled coffee in the other, hoodie sleeves still damp from where I accidentally elbowed the sink while washing my hands. So yeah, a normal morning. I almost tripped over a cracked bit of sidewalk again— mental note: report that or, I don’t know, start lifting your feet when you walk, I guess.

The shutters were halfway up, like always. I kept forgetting to pull them all the way down before I left. It wasn’t like anyone was dying to break into a place full of paperback classics and dusty murder mysteries, anyway.

I was halfway through unlocking the front door when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

“Hey— bookstore?”

I turned around and found myself facing a woman with a leather satchel slung across her body and a smile that was… genuine. Not that fake retail smile. Not the “I’m-being-polite” one either. Just— nice. Blonde hair, neatly styled. Sharp eyes, a little tired. She looked like someone who saw everything and didn’t let it startle her.

“That’s what the sign says,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the window decal I painted myself in a fit of DIY confidence and three cups of coffee. In retrospect, that looks awful. What the fuck was I thinking? Remind me to get one professionally made, yikes.

She smiled, holding out a hand. “Karen Page. I work next door.”

I shook her hand and followed her nod toward the office just to the right of my shop. Nelson, Murdock & Page. Huh. I’d seen the name a few times, but I hadn’t stopped by yet.

“Lawyers,” I said, accepting her handshake. “Brave of you to admit that before ten a.m.”

She laughed, warm and easy. “We try to keep a low profile.”

“I’m (Y/N),” I said. “Owner-slash-cashier-slash-bookshelf-assembler. Opened the place last month. Still figuring out if I need a real receipt printer or if handwritten notes give it a rustic vibe.”

“Well, it already looks amazing,” Karen said, peering through the window at the front table. “You’ve got ‘Little Women’ sitting next to a hitman memoir. Bold move.”

I shrugged. “I like balance.”

“Hell’s Kitchen could use more of that,” she said, and something about the way she said it made me pause. Like she knew.

Karen shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “We’re next door— Nelson, Murdock, and Page. If you need anything, or just decent coffee, come by.” A pause. Then, more casual, “Or if you just wanna talk. No pressure.”

I blinked. “Thanks. That’s… actually really kind. Seriously, everyone here’s been so nice. I didn’t expect that.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “In Hell’s Kitchen? Seriously?” Then she laughed, shaking her head. “Man, you must’ve moved in on a good week.” I did not want to explore what that meant. Nope. Only peace in my life starting now. Hell's kitchen better become my happy place or else.

And with that, she turned and headed into the law office, leaving me alone in front of my shop, coffee gone cold in my hand and a faint, weird smile pulling at my mouth.

For a second, I just stood there.

This place… it was starting to feel like something.

Not home. Not yet.

But something. And I liked it.

As my train of thought arrived at a halt, I went in and let myself glance around the shop.

Stacks of books waiting to be shelved. The soft creak of the wooden floor. The faint smell of cinnamon from the candle I left burning yesterday. It was quiet— still. That kind of still that sits on your chest but doesn’t press down. The kind you could almost mistake for peace if you weren’t paying too much attention.

And then the door burst open.

I mean burst.

The bell above it didn’t jingle— it screamed for its dear life.

“HELLOOOO, LITTLE BOOKSTORE!”

I nearly dropped my coffee.

There she was. Sunglasses. Combat boots. Too much attitude for 9:00 a.m. And a wide, shit-eating grin like she was about to punch me or hug me and hadn’t decided which.

“Yelena,” I said flatly, setting my cup down before it could tremble out of my hand. “Jesus Christ.”

She threw her arms out like I should be applauding. “I heard my favorite little assassin opened a bookstore, and I had to see it with my own two judgmental eyes.”

“You mean the bookstore I told you about four months ago?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you,” she said, striding in like she owned the place. “I thought you were definitely joking, but this? You? This is… cute.”

“You’re cute,” I muttered under my breath.

“I know,” she said immediately, already wandering toward the front table. “Wow. You really did it. You actually retired.”

“Don’t say it like that,” I said, watching her poke at the table display like she was searching for hidden weapons. “It makes me sound old and boring.”

“You are old and boring,” she said sweetly. “But this is adorable. Like— look at this. Aw, paperbacks. So soft. So non-lethal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright. Why are you here?”

Yelena blinked, all faux innocence. “What, I can’t drop in just to say hi?”

“You don’t do anything ‘just’ to say hi.”

She plopped onto the arm of one of the reading chairs. “Okay, fine. I’m genuinely here just to hang out. No weapons. No missions. No ulterior motives. Okay, maybe like one weapon. Two tops. Three if we're being technical.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Missed me, huh?”

“I’m not going to say yes and let you gloat.”

A slow smile crept up my face. “You know you love me.”

She shrugged, picking up a book like it hadn’t just gotten incredibly obvious in here. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

I leaned against the counter, watching her pretend to read the blurb on the back cover upside down.

Peace and quiet, my ass.

But honestly?

I’d missed this too.

——————————————————————————————————

Cut to: greasy takeout containers, chopsticks in hand, legs kicked up on mismatched stools in the back room of the store.

Yelena slurped a noodle and pointed at me with her chopsticks like she’d just remembered something important. “Wait. Have you met the hot lawyer next door yet?”

I blinked. “Karen?”

“No, the hot one.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Karen is hot.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Not that one. The other hot one. The tall one. Broody. Looks like he hasn’t slept since 2004. That one.”

“I haven’t met anyone else,” I said. “Just Karen. She was really sweet.”

“You need to meet the lawyer,” she said, like it was an emergency. “How have you not met the lawyer?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m running a bookstore and not casing the neighbors for eligible brooding bachelors?”

She popped another dumpling in her mouth. “I’m just saying. You’re doing your whole normal civilian thing now. He fits your aesthetic. Tortured, morally conflicted, probably has a tragic backstory— he’s perfect for you.”

I gave her a look. “Why do you know this? And how do you know this?”

Yelena pointed at herself, smug. “Baby girl, this is what I do.”

I groaned. “You are unbelievable.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome.”

I shoved a takeout box at her. “Eat your food and shut up.”

She did. But she was still smiling like she knew something I didn’t. And I fucking hate that look because that means she already knows she's right.

——————————————————————————————————

I was rearranging the front table display— again— because apparently, that was my new favourite hobby when I didn’t want to deal with actual work. My knee hit the corner of the shelf and I cursed under my breath, just as the bell over the door jingled.

I didn’t even look up. “Yelena, if that’s you again, I swear to God—”

“It is,” came her unapologetic voice. “But this time, I brought friends.”

That got my attention.

I looked up and, sure enough, there she was. Standing just inside the door like she owned the place, grinning like a menace, flanked by two men I definitely hadn’t seen before. One looked like he'd be someone’s favourite lawyer— pressed suit, hair barely out of place. The other stood slightly behind, cane in hand, expression unreadable. Curious, but guarded.

“Friends?” I repeated, squinting. “That’s new.”

“They’re real,” Yelena said, completely unbothered. “I checked.”

“You check everyone.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m here.”

She turned like she was introducing royalty. “This is Foggy. He talks a lot but somehow it works. And this,” she gestured to the man with the cane, “is Matt. Doesn’t talk a lot, but when he does, you should listen.”

I looked between them. “Lawyers?”

“Unfortunately,” Foggy said, smiling like this wasn’t his first time deflecting that. “We work next door. Karen told us you opened up shop, figured we’d stop by before she shamed us into it.”

I tilted my head. “Ah. So this is a guilt visit.”

“Strong coffee and guilt,” Matt said. His voice was low— smooth in a way that made it hard to read. “Two things we run on.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Fair enough. I’m (Y/N). I own the place. Unless Yelena somehow tricked me out of it and this is an intervention.”

Yelena held up both hands. “Hey, I only scam warlords now. Relax.”

Foggy was already halfway to a display table. “This is cool. Real cozy. I didn’t even know this was here.”

“Yeah, it’s new,” I said, sliding behind the counter like it would ground me. “Still figuring things out.”

Matt trailed his fingers along the shelf edge. It was subtle, but it felt… intentional. Like he was reading more than the titles.

“Quiet in here,” he said.

“Don’t jinx it.”

Yelena dropped into the chair by the window like it was hers. “I told you this place was legit.”

“You also told me there’d be pastries,” Foggy said, eyeing the plate beside the register.

“There were!” she said, pointing at the two sad, leftover cookies. “You’re just late.”

I caught Matt’s hand hover over a spine before he let it drop.

Foggy glanced over. “He does that in every bookstore, by the way. It’s freaky.”

Matt turned slightly toward me. “It’s relaxing.”

I glanced at his hand tracing the edge of the shelf. “What is? The books?”

“The quiet,” he said. “The way everything’s… still.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well. Kind of the point. Some of us open bookstores instead of going to therapy.”

He smiled — soft, but real. “You might be onto something.”

“You say that like it’s the first time I’ve been right today.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, just under his breath. “I’m reserving judgment.”

“Careful,” I said, tilting my head. “You come back too often, I’m gonna start charging you rent.”

Matt turned toward me slightly more, something curious behind his expression. “Is that your way of asking me to come back?”

I shrugged, meeting his gaze. “Is that your way of dodging the question?”

His smile widened, and just for a second, it felt like the rest of the room went quiet for real.

Yelena, of course, ruined it.

“Okay, wow. Should I leave? Or are we all just pretending this isn’t happening?”

I didn’t look away from Matt. “You could pretend harder.”

He grinned. “I think I’ll take that as an invitation.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling too.

He smiled— just slightly. Not the kind that asked for attention. The kind that slipped past your guard before you realized it. I caught it anyway. The curse of being observant— you catch everything.

"Wait so, how is it that you've already met Yelena?"

“He represented me once,” she said lightly, walking to the counter like she owned the place. “Long story. There were knives involved. And some yelling. Matt’s very good at not looking surprised in a courtroom.”

I raised my eyebrows. That feels like something she should've told me earlier, but I let it slide cause I was in a forgiving mood.

Matt smiled faintly. “It was… a unique case.”

“I was innocent,” Yelena added. “Mostly.”

Foggy sighed. “She was technically not guilty.”

“See?”

“So how do you know her?” Matt asked, nodding toward Yelena.

I blinked. “Yelena?”

“Please don't say prison,” Foggy added.

“Classified,” Yelena chimed.

I deadpanned. “She showed up in my life one day and never left.”

Matt nodded like he wasn’t sure if I was serious. Which was fair.

“She’s the clingy one,” Yelena added helpfully.

“I’m literally not.”

She gave me a look from behind Foggy’s back. One of those looks. Eyebrows up, lips twitching. She might as well have yelled "He’s cute" across the room. I stared at her. She winked.

Foggy looked between the group of us, grinning. “God, I missed normal human interaction.”

“This is your idea of normal?” I asked.

Matt smiled again, a little more noticeable this time. “You get used to it.”

We didn’t talk about anything important, but it didn’t feel awkward either. Just easy. No pressure. No masks, surprisingly. Just enough banter to feel human.

They didn’t stay long— lawyer things to do, apparently— but as Matt reached the door, he turned back.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Likewise,” I replied.

He gave a small nod— one of those subtle ones that meant something even if you weren’t sure what.

The door closed behind them.

Yelena immediately turned to me, arms crossed and smug.

“Well?”

I shrugged. “They seem alright.”

“You think Matt’s hot.”

“I think you should get out.”

“I think I’m gonna hang out by the window in case he comes back.”

I sighed and threw a cookie at her.

She caught it without blinking. “You know you love me.”

God help me— she wasn’t wrong.

I watched her kick her boots up and settle in like she planned on moving in. And yeah, it wasn’t quiet anymore. Not the kind I thought I wanted. But when I glanced back at the door— just for a second— I didn’t mind it so much.

Not anymore.

Mental note: Get some books in braille.

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leesromanova · 2 months ago

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REGIMES FALL EVERYDAY: PROLOGUE

series masterlist

synopsis → 5.4k intro chapter to the series…your mission to take down the nameless assassin doesn't go according to plan.

warnings → violence/graphic violence, trauma, dark themes, guilt (emotional/psychological distress), death and murder, betrayal, red room mentions, lmk if i missed anything!

notes → hi this is my first series…i hope you guys enjoy!! (Blyat’ = fuck)

The smell of stale cigarette smoke and carpet cleaner circled the room like a tidal wave. Even with the windows cracked, the smell lingered—the kind of stench that’d cling to your clothes if you were in the room for more than five minutes. You were now seriously regretting not fighting Fury on his choice of hotel. Of course, he’d picked the more modest choice rather than the more luxurious hotel where the banquet you were currently monitoring was being held.

You rubbed the side of your nose and looked around the dimly lit room. Maria was a few feet away from you at the desk, one of the few amenities provided by the management, setting up surveillance of the banquet on one of the three computer monitors. Fury stood in the corner of the room, stoically looking out at the streets of Budapest in front of the lone window.

“God, that smell is singing off my nose hairs,” Clint said as he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a clean, freshly pressed suit. His previous attire—black long sleeve and a pair of jeans—was rolled into a ball under his arm.

Maria huffed as she finally managed to crack into the surveillance of the ballroom. “Well, the proximity made it much easier for the hotel’s Wi-Fi to reach here,” she said, standing up after being hunched over a chair for a few minutes. Everyone was exhausted. The plane ride over had been anything but relaxing, sitting in the same section with a crying baby between the rows you’d been in for 10 hours, meant you were all running off fumes of coffee and maybe 2 hours of sleep.

You shook your head with a smile at Clint’s words, sitting on the edge of the squeaky bed, reading over the file you’d already memorized. Your own research, printed neatly in dark black lines of pretty Times New Roman font.

Your search for more information about the Widow program had taken months—days of looking through data files, footage, and interviews—that led you here. You’d been looking through assassinations that followed specific patterns that these “Widows” used. Seduce, entrance, kill. Their MO was what you tracked for months before you caught a more specific pattern in the kills. That’s what led you to her. There were many women in the program, but this one was… different.

She stood out, whether it was the effectiveness and brutality of her kills—it called out to you. The way she skillfully ended someone’s life and purposely made them suffer made you realize that, more than a handful of the cases had to have come from the same trained hand.

After graduating with your degree in Criminal Justice from University and following your father’s footsteps, joining S.H.I.E.L.D., doing years of training, skill practice, and missions upon hours of service brought you to where you were now—a ranked seven teammate who had the ability to go through years of evidence and that now, had enough research and concrete data to bring this case up to your superiors, who sent you in to take this assassin out on her next kill.

The assassin’s kills had been on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar for years, but only after extensive profiling and investigating, you were the one who connected the dots, found her, and had a backed-up theory about who her next victim would be.

She went under many aliases: Katya, Vesna, Nicholya, Lida, Nataliya, but you found her.

Her kills were more than just skilled; they were calculated. She offered herself off to these men in power, and, of course, they followed her like dogs wherever she took them. Her method was key to finding her. Many men wanted a submissive woman, and she played the part perfectly, that’s what got them hooked.

You’d become obsessed with finding her—your nameless, faceless assassin.

“The smell isn’t that bad once you get used to it,” Fury said from his spot at the window. “Smells kinda earthy to me.”

His words knocked you out of your spiral, making you huff and set the manila file down. “That would be the mold,” you corrected. You knew to keep the war inside your head just that—inside your head. You'd never let that affect the way you worked or the efficiency of your skills, you’d gone through so much just to fuck up now.

“Or mildew,” Clint added as he moved to stand in front of a mirror to straighten out his suit and put on his bow tie. You smiled and stood to wipe your hands on your pantsuit as you moved past the glowing computer monitors and walked to where he was standing to help him adjust the tie.

“Mildew or mold,” he sighs and looks toward the horizon of the setting sun before adding, “The internet is strong, and vision is clear. Plus, we have access to cameras within a 10-mile radius,” Fury said as he turned and moved toward the monitor setup. “If she runs, we’ll know where to.” He added as Maria moved to grab Clint’s comms device.

“I won’t let her get the chance to,” Clint said nonchalantly as you moved to stand in front of him—the man who’d really, truly helped you and took you under his wing as a newbie, helping you climb the ladder to get to where you were now—his equal in rank.

He smiled, seeing you stand before him, take the tie from his hands, and start to assemble it yourself, just like you had observed people do all through your youth.

“You’re going to need to learn how to tie these yourself one day,” you said as you wrung the fabric through the loops with practiced ease.

“Not when I have you to help,” he said, making you smile and roll your eyes playfully before you finished and adjusted it to his liking.

“That feel fine?” you asked, meeting his eyes and seeing him nod.

He took your hand before you could remove it from the fabric. “He’d be proud of you. Your dad. He’d be proud of you for accomplishing this,” he said, making you pause momentarily.

The assassination of your father wasn't something hard for you to talk about. It hurt, but you'd always dreamed of finding the people responsible and getting justice for your father—that’s the real reason you’d gone after the Widows, the women’s kill method was too similar to his own passing.

The heat of his chest seeping through his shirt and into your hand, brought you out of your trance. Clint knew. He knew what this case meant to you, how hard you’d worked, how much you’d sacrificed to finally get to this point. He got it—more than anyone ever would.

You nodded with a soft smile. “Yeah… yeah, I know he would be,” you said before Maria came up behind you with the comms device in her hands.

“Clint, this is yours—one in the left ear. Make sure it’s snug. The point is that no one sees them,” Maria said as she handed him the small earpiece. He adjusted it, showing her the positioning, and she gave a curt nod in approval.

“That’s your good ear, right?” she asked, making him huff while nodding. You turned to her with a raised brow.

“What? I had to ask and make sure,” she responded, already walking away, making you chuckle before she slipped back behind the monitor and spoke into a mic.

“Hawkeye, you copy?” Her words crisply came through the device into Clint’s ear, making him nod. She smiled before pulling up the ballroom footage.

“Remember, if we want to get her, we do not engage under any circumstances. We want her out of there and away from the public eye,” you turned to her with a confused face.

The whole point of catching her was to stop the killing, and here you were, apparently willing to let her kill another man for the benefit of who-knows-who. Clint’s eyes met your own with a questioning look. “We’re going to let her kill him?” you asked, breaking eye contact and looking at Fury.

“We can’t engage,” he repeated, making your brows furrow further. Were you really going to do this? Was finding the person responsible for your father’s demise worth killing another man? You turned back to Clint, his jaw tensing and his face hardening slightly as he took in Fury’s words while looking at the man.

“This is a highly sought-out, invitation-only party. These people are influential. S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot risk exposing itself like that.” You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief.

“That’s the deal,” he said, saying your name. “Collateral, in order to make sure it’s her.” Your stomach churned. “Barton goes in alone. Standard surveillance. Identify the target, confirm the pattern, and track movements. No engagement until we’re certain. Or we pack it up now.” You swallowed down an argument and looked down to avoid eye contact with them both, nodding—you were not screwing this up now. Fuck morals.

Clint cleared his throat, making you look up and watch as he followed your movements and nodded with the plan. He looked up, met your gaze, and flicked his head up, silently asking if you were okay. You pursed your lips and smiled before he moved toward the door, picked up the suitcase with his tactical weapons, and turned the handle of the door slowly before stepping into the hallway and out of sight.

“Okay, now around this corner should be the entrance,” you said as the three of you watched Clint through the cameras and tracked him through the hotel—a red dot traveling through the building.

“Uh, yeah, duh. I looked at the map,” Clint responded as he turned the corner and showed up on the screen projecting the camera footage. He smiled at the security guards as he told them his alias and walked into the party.

“Now, where’s the bathroom?” he asked as he looked around, and we saw a switch to the camera inside the party, showing him standing by the entrance and looking around.

“Thought you’d looked at the map?” Maria responded, making you smile.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” you said, meeting her eyes and smiling at her before she closed her eyes and smiled back in acknowledgment.

Fury huffed before getting closer to the microphone. “No time for the little boys' room, Barton. Look for the target,” he said, reminding you of the mission's purpose. We saw Clint nod in acknowledgment as he walked toward the bar and asked for some sort of drink.

“She should look inconspicuous, Clint, like she’s supposed to be there, but younger, pretty,” you said, looking through the crowd pictured on the screen.

“I see a blonde, brunette, and a redhead,” Clint said, raising the glass to his lips and looking over the rim. Your eyes scanned the room for said women and clicked to find the camera angles that showed each of them more clearly.

“Got them,” Maria said, looking at your monitor and seeing the women clearly. “Watch and see who approaches the man of the hour,” Fury instructed.

The group watched as the women moved around the party, grabbing drinks and going from arm to arm, but none of the three approached the man who the event was organized for—Emil Morozov, market investor and owner of one of the best medical research centers in Europe, who had, had a breakthrough in his “cancer research.” In reality, the real people who took charge and were responsible for the innovations were unnamed in his book.

Maria calls out your name, “Why are they after him exactly?” She says while looking at the screen and finding him with his wife on his arm, a drink in his hand, standing and speaking to some other rich and important-looking men.

“Uhh, we’re not entirely sure, really. He seemed to fit the profile for her usual victims, though, so I thought he would be our best bet. I’m guessing he stepped over a line he wasn’t supposed to with this breakthrough,” you say as you open the file and read out some notes you had taken, scribbling a few more down regarding him and his appearance.

Maria nods in understanding as she turns to look at Fury, who has pulled out his own file and was studying the gathered profile you’d created for the unnamed assassin.

“Blonde is on the move,” everyone collectively sits up, Fury setting the file down as the group watches the tanned woman move toward Emil, who was now looking directly at her. He takes her in before she turns at the last second to the table beside them, gripping a man’s shoulder, making him turn. His eyes light up in recognition as she smiles up at him. He kisses her cheek in return, making you groan from the other side of the monitor.

“It’s not the blonde. She had a clear entrance and didn’t take it,” Clint says, making you lean back in the chair and let your head fall back in frustration.

Patience, you thought. Just be patient.

“Redhead is putting her drink down,” Clint’s voice breaks through the silence of the room.

“Is she moving?” you ask as you close your eyes and bring an arm up to cover your forehead.

You were never going to find her.

“Subject, looks like she’s heading for our man of the hour.” Your head picks up, your arm now on the table as you sit up.

“What?” you say, looking at the screen as her face comes into view, approaching the group of men in suits, tapping Morozov on the shoulder, and giving him a shimmering smile.

Time freezes for a second as you struggle to take this moment in. The face of the widow you’d been tracking for months was finally in front of you. Her gaze is intimidating as she grips Morozov’s arm and smiles at whatever he’s saying, making him wrap his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him unknowingly. The way her full lips tip to the side makes you gulp. At this moment, you now understood just how these women’s tactics worked so well.

“This is her,” you clear your throat and realize just how close you’d gotten to the monitor. You back up and straighten your back, turning and looking at Fury in silent question of what Clint’s next move should be.

“Barton, do not engage,” he says, leaning down to get a better look at the woman on screen. “Let her do what she must.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding at his words as your eyes trail back to the screen and take in her appearance.

Her red hair striking over the green dress she wore. The dip in the neckline gives just enough view to be appropriate yet still seductive. You wondered how she went unnoticed when, to you, she was anything but. She was… pretty, aggravatingly so.

“I’ll follow her once they start moving,” he says, looking up and staring at the camera closest to him as if to signal to the group that he was ready.

You breathe in shakily as you find it almost impossible to tear your eyes away from the screen where the widow was pictured.

“Good, Barton, just stick to the plan,” Fury responds after giving a curt nod at the monitor.

“Follow orders.”

You follow as you watch the woman entrance the man into following her out of the ballroom and into the hallway where Clint follows discreetly. Her arm tucked into his and his eyes staring down her dress as she throws her head back, feigning intoxication.

“Oh, she's good,” María states from behind you as you both observe how she grips the man’s arm as they enter the elevator.

“Killing people is her job. Of course, she’s good at it,” you scoff and watch as the doors close on them, and Clint steps into frame, heading for the stairs. After you give him the floor number where they got off, he races to reach them as they exit.

“Clint, they’re about to get off,” you say, scooting closer to the monitor as you watch the door to the stairs open before the elevator does, as well, in another frame.

“They’re heading to room 16F,” you say as he pulls out his key and unlocks the door. She follows in behind him before the door closes behind them. Clint shows up on frame as if on cue as the pair go into the room.

“It’s the waiting game now,” Clint says as he exhales and catches his breath after rushing up 7 floors. “God, I am out of shape,” he says, making you smirk.

“Dad bod hitting you, Bart?” you ask teasingly as you watch him throw up a middle finger at the camera in the corner of the hallway in which you were watching him.

“She’s heading out.” Clint’s voice reverberates through the speakers, making the three of you spring into action and move closer to the glow of the screen.

An hour had passed, the room now alit by the bedside lamps and the bathroom light. The sun had set earlier, and the start of daylight savings was sabotaging the mission that you'd planned. It would be harder to track her in the dark, and much darker to find Clint if something were to happen to him.

“Clint, be careful. She might not be as predictable as we think,” you say, sitting up straighter. These killers had taken your dad—what would you do if they took your friend, one of your closest friends?

“I got it… she’s moving into the elevator dressed in black and has red hair. She’s not hard to miss.”

You move close and take control of the mouse before María can, and find the right camera to spot her coming out of the elevator. Clint pops out of the stairs, discreetly following behind her. You all track her and him as they go through back roads and alleyways of the city to end up in an apartment complex that looked older than both of them combined. Cameras around the area were sparse, but enough to watch as Clint watches her go on the elevator. He sits in the lobby inconspicuously.

“Clint, she’s on the 9th floor,” María says as you switch to the hallway camera’s view of the floor and see her unlock and step into the last apartment on the edge of the building.

“Last apartment on the right,” you add and watch from another screen as Clint gets up and walks to the building beside the one he was just in. He manages to find the roof exit and is now set up, watching through the open window of the apartment on the ninth floor, on the far right.

“Target spotted,” he says as he settles into a crouch and directs the arrow from his bow to the target’s head.

“She’s in the kitchen, a few feet away from the window,” he adds.

“Is she aware that you're watching her?” Fury asks as he bends over the backs of María and your chairs.

“Not sure, but I have a clear shot,” he says, and you hear him scoot over the gravel of the roof and angle himself better.

“Take it.” You hype and lean forward, watching his form from a camera’s view from one of the first floors of a building on the same street.

“Clint, take it,” Fury says after giving you a glare.

You watch as Clint pulls the arrow back, and hear him take an inhale and exhale sharply as he releases the bow and watches it travel through the window, disappearing from sight.

“Fuck,” Clint curses and stands up quickly, grabbing another arrow and creating a zip line from his building to hers.

“Barton, what happened?” María asks, grabbing the mouse before you could and watching as he slides down into the apartment.

“She ducked,” he says, as the sound of his feet hitting the ground hard is heard. “She dodged the fucking arrows.” The crunching of glass is heard as you turn to the other monitor and watch his tracker flow through the building.

There is a beat of silence, just the sound of Clint’s breath before a shout and then muffled grunts and groans come through the speaker. He was being attacked. He was being attacked by a widow.

You feel the air buzz with adrenaline as you all spring into action.

“Hill,” Fury says, making her turn to him before he gives her a curt nod. “It’s time,” he adds. She nods in return and moves to grab a suitcase from beneath the bed.

This case wasn’t one you knew they had brought. It was a weapons case, and by the looks of it, it had enough for all of you and then some. Hill starts pulling out guns and begins handing one to you before arming herself and handing another to Fury.

“What’s happening?” you ask as you open the gun and see a full magazine in it. You look up to make eye contact with both of them.

“If she gets him, we’re next,” Fury responds. “We have to leave now and get to Clint as soon as we can.” Your blood runs cold as you take in his words.

It wasn’t a question. This woman—this widow—will kill Clint, and will come after you once she’s done.

The noises of the struggle suddenly end with a shout and a grunt.

“I got her,” Clint says, breathing heavily, the sound of a woman screaming heard in the background.

“Clint?” you ask, grabbing the mic.

“I’m fine. She’s on the ground with her hands tied behind her back,” he says as you hear her continue to struggle. “She got me good, though.”

“We’re on our way,” Fury states before we hear a noise of acknowledgment from Clint before a small intake of breath is heard, and then a short moment of silence.

“Fuck,” Clint says, making us all turn to the speaker. “Fuck, I—” he says.

“Barton?” Fury asks. “Is everything okay?”

“I can’t do this… Fuck,” he says, the girl’s shouts fading into heavy breathing. “She’s—” he takes a moment before taking in some air. “She’s just a kid. I can’t do this,” he says before a click is heard, and the line goes dead.

Static-filled silence is all that can be heard for a few beats before you speak, “What?” You say, picking up the mic. “Clint?” You ask. “Barton?” You grip the mic and call out to him, waiting for a response but hear nothing in return. You feel your blood run cold as you hold the mic with trembling fingers—adrenaline still beating inside you.

Maria immediately moves to the monitor and checks on his tracker. The blinking red dot you once saw was now long gone from the screen.

“He disabled his tracker,” she says, “He's gone.”

The porridge on the stove bubbled gently as she stirred, her thoughts far from the food her body desperately needed.

Another kill. Another target. Another mission. Another body. More red on her ledger.

Her stomach twisted as her appetite suddenly dissipates. She moves to grab a glass of water, the cool breeze of air making the side pieces of red hair she’d left out of her braid tickle the sides of her face.

She turns and leans on the counter, her back to the cabinets behind her and closes her eyes. She’d leave tomorrow, back to her home—the closest thing she had to one.

Dreykov had personally given her the task to take out this man, apparently finding the cure to cancer didn’t benefit the head of the Red Room academy.

Wasn't her problem, though. She had a mission. It's all that mattered, she'd done what she needed—what she had to do.

No place in this world.

She takes a long gulp of water as she opens her eyes and looks up at the plain wall in front of her, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

She was being watched, she knew this feeling. Felt it every day at night when cameras surveyed them while they slept, felt it when she would train and eyes of her superiors watched her take out her opponents. It was a trusted sixth sense she had.

She felt the air on the cheeks of her face and stays still before hearing the swoosh of something in the air and ducks, narrowly avoiding the double arrows that were aimed at her chest.

“Blyat’,” she grunts as she falls on her knees, the arrow breaking the windows and leaving shattered glass scattered on the floor. She grunts as she crawls across the floor of the kitchen and to the living room, her knees dragging across the pieces of glass.

She manages to stand with a wince and run to the corner, shutting off the lights of the apartment, hiding in the crevice of a bookshelf and a corner. Her green eyes trained to see in minimal light, making it easy to spot when her assailant glides into the room and speaks out loud into a microphone. He has more people with him, she notes, crawling behind a chair and waiting for him to get closer.

Once his bottom half comes into view, she sweeps her leg aming at his knees, his legs fold under him, and he falls to the ground with a groan. She stands and grabs his arm, twisting it behind him before he grabs her hair with his free hand and pulls her off of him, making her scream in pain.

He stands and holds her in a chokehold before she turns her body in his grip and knees him between the legs, then runs toward a wall to kick herself from it and manages to whip her legs around his shoulders, ending up on top of him, knocking him over before she can hold him between her thighs.

He scrambles away and takes gulps of air, moving to stand as she moves toward him again and pulls his foot, bringing him to his knees, and she wraps her arm around his neck, flexing her arm and tightening her hold. She feels him running out of air and smiles to herself before he suddenly stands and throws her over his shoulder, making her land on her back and knock the air out of her.

Her autopilot goes off as she flips over and gasps for air, trying to move away but is pulled back by her foot. She turns to kick the man in the face but misses, and he grabs her other leg and flips her onto her stomach.

Alarms blare in her head. How does she escape? How can she make this man follow the directions, not those of the people he works for? Who does he work for? A million questions fly through her head as she feels him grab both of her arms and tie them behind her back, sitting on her, his body weight on her lower half.

She thinks back to all of her training sessions and recalls none of the methods to escaping this form of restriction and moves below him, trying to free herself, and screams.

“I’m fine, she’s on the ground and with her hands tied behind her back,” the man says from above her, his breathing heavy on her neck as she wiggles around. The only thing she can think of to make him fall off of her, she tries kicking, but he moves to tie her ankles, and she groans and continues to scream. If he doesn't move, maybe the people that live on her floor can intervene once they hear her… maybe?

She turns to see that he is standing above her with each foot beside her. Her breaths come in short quips as she tries to calm herself, to think the situation though. quite plainly she already knew. she was fucked.

She feels him lean down and sees his fingers come into view. She prepares herself to strain her neck and get a good look at his face, but before she can, she feels his fingertips gently move her red hair from her face.

Green crashes with blue as their eyes meet, and his widen slightly as his face morphs into one of concern.

“Fuck,” he removes his hand from her and wipes it across his face. “I can’t do this… Fuck,” he says, making her brows furrow. He wasn’t going to kill her? Why?

“She’s—” she watches as he gathers his words before turning down to look at her and make eye contact. “She’s just a kid, I can’t—I can't do this.”

He says as he reaches into his ear and pulls the microphone out and crushes it beneath his foot, and takes a chip from his tactical suit and crushes that too.

She watches him with curious eyes as he looks back at her. What did he want from her?

He moves to turn her over and drags her to a chair, leaning her on it so she’s facing him but is still tied. He sits on the floor in front of her.

“What’s your name?” She doesn't respond and furrows her brows. He scoffs. “Of course, you’re not going to tell me that—fuck.” He looks at the ground and then meets her eyes again.

“How old are you?” he asks, as she clears her throat.

“Twenty-three,” she says, and she wiggles to move her hands and see if she can untie herself.

“How long have you been working for the Red Room?” he asks, and she stops and stares before he clarifies, “My people know alla bout it...I want to help you, if you let me,” he says before taking a breath. “Do you want a way out?” he asks, and she pauses and stares.

“You won’t get in trouble. This isn’t some sort of test. I was sent to kill you, and I didn’t follow specific orders, so I’m pretty fucked in every possible way in this situation.” He shakes his head and looks up.

“My whole life,” she finds the words leaving her mouth, her Russian accent heavy on the English words. “I’ve been a part of the Red Room my whole life,” she says, and she sits up straighter and manages to untie the rope but leaves her hands behind her back. She didn’t feel threatened—this man, whoever he was, was not a threat, and he's stupid to think she wasn’t even when tied up.

“Your whole life?” he asks with furrowed brows.

She nods. “It’s my home,” she states, the words sour on her tongue. It wasn't true—it was what was ingrained into her since the start her interrogation training.

Give them enough to not think of you as a threat, but hold the truth back.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks, her eyes trained on him as he moves to untie the rope binding her legs together and sits back again.

“The fact that you haven’t killed me yet tells me you don’t want to,” he continues and looks at her, tilting his head. His eyes go to her hands behind her back. “You’ve been untied for a while now, haven’t you?” he asks, making her sigh and move her hands to her lap.

“Like I said, this isn’t a test,” he says. “I work for an organization that can help—they can—we can help you.” He looks at her with pleading eyes before looking down and closing his eyes in defeat as he still gets no response. The only noise coming from the breeze coming through the window.

Was this real? what would happen if Dreykov found her? What would they do? She didnt know what would come of this but if it was a way out she wasnt going to pass on it—she couldn't keep living like this. Fuck it.

“Natalia.” Her raspy voice fills the silence, making him look up.

“Natalia, is my name.” She says as she moves to stand, he follows her, a bit rushed.

“Natalia,” he holds out his hand once he stands to his full height, about half a foot taller than her.

“I’m Clint Barton.” He holds out his hand.

She takes his hand in a firm grip as they shake and make eye contact.

More than a few things run through her mind at the moment. Was this a trap? Was she going to be killed? Would his organization even help her? Was it too late for her to be helped? Did she have enough humanity left in her to be helped?

As she shook his hand and a small relieved smile graced the man’s—Clint Barton’s face, she could only focus on one thought.

Was it all over? Or was it just the beginning?

a. note → well there you guys have ittt, i ofc hand to change age and if i have any mistakes ignore them this is purely for entertainment, for preface reader and nat are the same age :) hope you guys liked it hehehehe...give your thoughts bellow pls pls pls ill love u forevs <33.

dividers by → @cafekitsune @enchanthings

tag list → @natashasmuse @womenarehotsstuff @im-lesbianics @snowdrop1026 @pawiie @redjoes

lmk if you want to be added to the tag list in the replies!

#REGIMES FALL EVERYDAY #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #marvel #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader series #natasha romanoff series #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow comics #Spotify

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jeanscowgirl · 1 month ago

Text

don't try this at home.

toji fushiguro x reader, modern au, toji has the same job, reader should NOT be doing this, toji fushiguro x widow!reader

warnings: smut, mentions of death, mentions of exes, mentions of murder, modern au, fingering, oral b!receiving, penetration, hair pulling, brat reader for a second, dom! toji, idk what else, this is kind of crazy

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You didn’t wanna get back into the dating scene after your husband was brutally murdered. The case was never solved. you never found out who took away the love of your life.

Your friends badgered you about going out and meeting guys, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of it. Which led one of your friends to create a dating profile FOR you.

They set up the entire Tinder profile for you adding whatever pictures they thought looked the best. According to them you got a few matches but you didn’t care. You wanted nothing to do with it.

Until…

One night, you had just gotten home from being out with your friends. You were drunk. So, you logged into the Tinder account using the email and password your friends had given you.

There were a few messages, all weird pick up lines that you didn’t care to answer. You scrolled through your matches, wondering why your friends would even swipe right on some of these guys. Then, a new message appeared.

Toji Wow, you’re gorgeous sweetheart

You cringed at the nickname. You don’t even know this guy. But, you were drunk so you decided to entertain him.

Y/n Thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.

You clicked on his profile.

He was not bad at all. He was gorgeous. Black hair, great body, tall. The list could go on.

Another message.

Toji What’re you up to?

You responded to the message, and kept responding. You didn’t want to admit it but you really were enjoying talking to him.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After about a week of talking to Toji, he had asked you on a date. You thought about it, you really did. But, you still couldn’t bring yourself to say yes.

That didn’t stop him though. He continued to talk to you every day. He seemed to genuinely care, he seemed really interested.

Another week or two later, Toji asked again.

You agreed.

You both decided on a casual restaurant, nothing too fancy. You wore jeans and a nice shirt, cute but comfy.

You were terribly nervous, you hadn’t done anything like this since the death of your husband. But, it had been three years and maybe it was time to explore just a little bit.

When you arrived, you saw him sitting at a table already. He was even more attractive in person.

You sat down, introduced yourself and then you both immediately hit it off.

He was funny, kind of blunt, and super flirty.

You both asked questions about each other and the date was going well. Then you decided to be a mood killer, “I should probably tell you just before you get too comfortable, I’m a widow. My husband was killed three years ago,”

Toji kind of stared blankly, “Oh. I- Uh,”

“Wow, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even brought that up. I just wanted to warn you,” Punching yourself internally for bringing that up on the first date.

“No, no. I’m sorry for your loss, what was his name?” Toji asked.

“Alec Kylan”

Toji dropped his fork and just stared at you.

You stared back, confused at his reaction, “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard to deal with.” Toji manages to get out.

Unbeknownst to you, you had just named one of the many people Toji had been sent to kill.

He didn’t tell you that though. He just continued on with your date as usual.

The date went well before you decided to go your separate ways for the night, both agreeing to go on a second date soon.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･

A few weeks and a few dates later, you’re sitting on Toji’s couch in his apartment.

You’re cuddled up next to him in shorts and a t-shirt. Some show is on the TV, you’re barely paying attention.

Tojis hand is on your thigh, just caressing you. You’re getting turned on by this simple touch and Toji takes notice of your slight squirming.

He moves his hand closer up your thigh, to the hem of your shorts. He tugs at them and looks at you, asking for permission to take them off.

You look up at him and give him a nod. Instead of proceeding though, he chuckles and stands up.

He reaches a hand out to you, and as you go to grab it, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder.

With one arm wrapped around your torso, he carries you to his bedroom and throws you onto his bed. Yes, throws you.

“Take em’ off”

You don’t listen.

He scoffs, “Alright have it your way.”

He takes off the shirt that was hugging his muscles perfectly to reveal the most built body you have ever seen. He climbs on top of you, hovering.

He leans down to start kissing down your neck while messing with the t-shirt you refused to take off. With no warning, he bites down on your neck softly, definitely leaving a mark. The sudden feeling causes you to let out a small whimper which makes him smile against your skin.

He lifts up your shirt, “No bra? Knew you were gonna want this,” pulling it off of you completely.

Staring at your bare chest for maybe a second, he leans down to start kissing you all over again.

Starting at your boobs going all the way down your stomach. He finally reaches the waistband of your shorts. And with no warning, he takes them off in one motion.

Toji’s mouth immediately on your pussy, wasting no time. Eating you out like he has never eaten a meal in his life.

“F-fuck Toji calm down!”

This makes Toji do the exact opposite. He plays with your tits with one hand and with the other, he inserts two fingers into you.

“Oh my god, please”

He doesn’t slow down. He is pumping his fingers into you at an insane pace. You’re almost crying from the pleasure.

He pinches your nipples earning another moan out of you.

Sucking your clit and still fingering you, you were on the verge of cumming, and it's almost like Toji knew.

“Toji, please I-”

He pulls his fingers out, “Not yet, doll” He puts the same fingers into his mouth, licking off your juices.

You can see his bulge through the grey sweatpants he’s still wearing. He takes notice of this and slightly laughs, taking them off. His cock is huge, bigger than you were expecting.

He’s standing up but points to the ground, “Come here,”

You don’t listen. Again. Strike 2.

He grabs you by the hair and forces you to look him in the eyes, “Come on, don’t be a brat sweetheart,”

He lets go, and tries again.

You kneel in front of him, “Suck,”

You spit on his cock before putting it into your mouth.

“Fuck baby, you’re good at this,” he moans.

He grabs the back of your head, but doesn’t push.

You take more of him, moaning around his dick.

“Good girl, fuck you’re so good,”

His hands in your hair, this time he does push, making you gag, but that just turns him on even more.

Controlling your movements from the back of your head, moaning more profanities at you.

“Nnngh- I’m gonna fuck- Im gonna cum baby,”

And he does, in your mouth.

“Swallow.”

You do.

“Good girl, get back on the bed.”

You listen again.

He flips you over, your back facing him.

He’s holding your hips, rubbing up and down the sides of your body. You’re getting antsy though. You try to scoot back into him, hoping to get what you want.

SMACK

“Wow, needy slut huh? Can’t go a few minutes without something inside ya?”

Another, SMACK

“Was just tryna appreciate your body Ma. So fucking impatient,” And with no warning at all, he slams his cock into you.

“FUCK!”

“Yeah? You asked for that doll, sorry”

He is fucking you so good, you have never been fucked so good.

Nope, not even by your late husband.

“Damn sweetheart, pussy was made for me and me alone,”

His cock is stretching you out. He’s hitting your cervix. He is doing everything right.

“Toji, you feel so good, please,”

“Please what baby?”

You’re a whimpering, moaning mess.

“H-harder,” You say in between broken sobs

He listens.

He starts pounding into you at an inhumane pace. You can’t take it.

He pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at him.

“Who’s fucking you so good, huh?”

“Y-you T-toji!”

“That's right Ma, not that silly ex husband of yours right?”

“N-no!”

That was odd to say…

He lets go of your hair, your face no longer looking at his.

“That's why I killed that son of a bitch.” He mutters under his breath.

You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly. He was fucking you too good for you to notice. Besides, he couldn’t have been the killer…right?

It doesn’t matter, you can’t think. Toji is pounding into you so hard, you can’t think straight.

“T-toji, I ah think I’m getting close,”

“Cum for me sweetheart,”

And you do, you cum so hard, the best orgasm you maybe ever have had.

Coming down from your high, Toji pulls out of you gently.

He grabs a towel to clean the both of you off.

“Toji, what was that you said uh a few minutes ago?”

He continues wiping the both of you, “What do you mean?”

“Uh, did you say something about my ex husband?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about doll,”

He lies down next to you, kisses your forehead, opens his arms for you to lie in them, and then quickly falls asleep.

You had no idea you had just been fucked by and now lying in the arms of the same man who killed your husband.

#fanfic #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x you #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk #jjk fic #jjk x reader #smut

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fandomshatepeopleofcolor · 1 year ago

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redroomreflections · 8 months ago

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Behind Closed Doors: A New Chapter of Natasha Romanoff and Y/N Y/LN on Love, Family, and Redemption

Time Magazine Exclusive Interview

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

The Loud House Universe | Masterlist

Summary: Natasha and R sit for their first ever interview with Time Magazine

Note: This has spoilers so if you don't like those don't read. In my free time I world build. So if this sucks just know it was for me lol

w/c: 3.7k

Nestled in a nondescript town, hidden from the public eye for safety reasons, Time Magazine is granted an exclusive and rare glimpse into the lives of two individuals whose personal journeys have both inspired and intrigued. Natasha Romanoff, once known as the enigmatic Black Widow, and her partner Y/n —a woman whose own story of resilience and love complements Natasha’s—welcome us into their private sanctuary.

This unassuming town, chosen for its calmness and discretion, is a stark contrast to the high-profile lives these two have led. Here, amidst the quiet, Natasha and y/n are building a life together, raising six children, and embracing the everyday joys and challenges of having such a big family.

In this intimate conversation, Natasha and Reader open up about their journey of love and marriage, sharing the evolution of their bond as they navigate the complexities of a large family. They candidly discuss one of their children’s recent diagnosis, a profound experience that has tested their strength and deepened their connection

Join us as we delve into the personal and poignant, revealing the human stories behind the headlines and the remarkable journey of Natasha and Reader in their serene, hidden haven

***********

As I step into the living room of Natasha Romanoff and y/n, I’m immediately struck by the serene atmosphere that contrasts sharply with their high-profile pasts and celebrity. The space is meticulously curated, with soft hues and tasteful decor creating an environment that feels both intimate and inviting. All around us, there are subtle hints of their life with children, including the American Girl doll seated directly in front of me.

Natasha and y/n are seated on a large, comfortable sectional sofa, their closeness evident yet subtly restrained. They are dressed in coordinating outfits—Natasha in a sleek navy blouse and dark jeans, y/n in a navy dress that complements Natasha’s attire without matching exactly. It’s an understated coordination that feels more like an effortless choice rather than a deliberate statement.

They sit close enough to show their connection but maintain just enough space to breathe. Natasha’s posture is upright, her demeanor calm but attentive, while y/n exudes a quiet, steady presence beside her. There’s a natural ease in their interaction, a palpable mutual respect.

I take my seat across from them, feeling the gentle shift in the room’s energy as I prepare to dive into the questions. With a quick glance at my notes and a brief check of my recorder, I open the conversation. "First of all, I want to start off by saying thank you for accepting Time Magazine's interview request. It's a pleasure being able to be in your presence and get to know you a little more. Can I ask what made you think this was finally the time to do a sit-down interview?"

"Thank you. You're welcome. It's critical that we show our children how important the truth is and the importance of telling it," Natasha says, her gaze unwavering. "We felt that, now, after everything, it was the right time. I am being honored for my transformation and redemption so of course I wanted everything to be in my words."

Y/n smiles, nodding her head as she turns to face me. "We've always been open and honest with our kids about who we are. We didn't want to have some magazine or journalist telling them something about us that was untrue, so we figured why not do it ourselves."

"The last few years have been... a lot," Natasha adds, her voice softening slightly. "We've had some ups and downs, and we thought it would be a good way to tell our side of the story."

"That's wonderful and I definitely agree with getting your side of things out there," I say. "How did you two first meet, and what drew you to each other despite your very different backgrounds?"

"We met in a coffee shop actually," Y/n begins with a subtle smile. "It was about thirteen years ago give or take a year. I was sitting and studying for a law exam. I was in law school at the time. Natasha frequented the coffee shop but I never noticed her until one day I decided to look up and there she was. She caught my attention immediately. We didn't speak until the next time she'd come in and sat at my table. I was her cover."

Natasha nodded her head with a smirk. "I was on a mission and I had to use her. I was supposed to be subtle but I wasn't and I got made. So I sat with her to pretend to study and the rest is history."

"What do you mean by 'the rest is history'?"

"After she'd realized I wasn't going to hurt her, which was obvious because she was a civilian, we began to talk and we just hit it off," Natasha explained.

"She was the most interesting person I'd ever spoken to. She was different, a breath of fresh air," Y/n said. "It was an immediate connection."

"So you've always felt this instant connection between you?" I asked.

"Yes," Natasha responded. "From the moment we met, there was something special between us."

"We both knew it was more than just a physical attraction. There was an instant emotional connection as well," Y/n added.

"What would you say is the biggest challenge of being married to someone who's faced the kinds of hardships and challenges you've faced, y/n? You're a lawyer. How has it affected you both to be on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to the law?"

"It's been difficult," Y/n started, her hand sliding closer to Natasha's. "I've had to watch her go through a lot. The media portrayed her as this monster, but they don't know her. Of course, I don't make excuses or ignore what's in her past. I'm not a person that can simply weigh in on someone's life when it was basically laid out for her."

"There were times that I thought I wouldn't come home to her, but I was lucky enough that she's seen past all of that," Natasha explained.

"She's done a lot of work on herself, and she's changed so much."

"Which brings me to our next question, In what ways has your relationship evolved since you first started dating?"

"We're still best friends," Y/n replied, looking over at Natasha with a soft smile. "Our relationship is stronger than ever. I'd like to think that we've grown up together, and that's been a great gift."

"I agree," Natasha said, returning her smile. "Our relationship is still growing and changing, but I think that's normal and healthy. We've gone through a lot, and we've grown together."

"What are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced together, and how have you overcome them? Within reason of course," I assured them there was no need to get too personal if it wasn't necessary to the conversation.

"Well, we've lost a child, my best friend too," Y/n said.

"It's been a lot of trial and error," Natasha stated.

"There are ups and downs with every relationship. It's a journey, and it's about figuring out how to grow and evolve together," y/n explained. "So in the beginning we were both these strong women who didn't really understand the magnitude of what our love meant. So we struggled a lot. I'd like to think we figured things out."

"We're working on it," Natasha laughed. "We've come a long way. It hasn't been easy, but we're working on it."

As the conversation delves into their relationship's evolution and the challenges they've faced, a lighthearted interruption brings a touch of domestic warmth to the interview. The soft chime of a phone ringing cuts through the room’s calm. Natasha glances at the screen, a tender smile spreading across her face as she sees the caller ID.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Natasha says, her voice gentle as she answers the call. "Paige, what's up baby?"

On the other end, a small voice can be heard, clear and earnest. “Mama, can we have ice cream?”

Natasha’s smile broadens, and she exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Y/n before responding with a playful, “We’ll see, sweetheart. What kind of ice cream are you thinking about? Chocolate chip cookie dough. Don't you think three scoops is a lot?”

The response of the child must be one aligned with their personality as Y/n chuckles softly beside her, the sound rich with affection. The brief call, though mundane, offers a glimpse into their everyday life—a moment that underscores the balance they’ve struck between their public personas and their private family world.

As Natasha hangs up and returns her focus to the interview, the atmosphere in the room shifts slightly. The interruption, though brief, adds a layer of intimacy to the conversation.

“It’s these small moments, like a child’s call for ice cream, that remind us of the everyday joys of family life. How have your relationship and your experiences influenced your approach to parenting and managing your family? Especially given your background in the Red Room, Natasha. Has that affected it at all?”

Natasha and y/n exchanged looks, a silent communication passing between them. Y/n reached for Natasha's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "My experiences have definitely shaped me and helped me grow as a parent. I think for a while, I was afraid to be stern. I was afraid to be anything but gentle. That was an issue, and we had to work through it," Natasha began. "I had to understand what each of my children needs and listen to them. I had to stop walking on eggshells and set boundaries. We had to find our flow."

"But once we did, we were able to find our balance and our rhythm as parents. We're very much a team," Y/n continued.

"You've said you're a team. What do you mean by that? What is the dynamic like between the two of you?"

"We support each other, and we communicate. We're both involved in all aspects of our children's lives. We're both present and involved, and we make decisions together. That's the most important thing to us."

"Do you agree with that, Y/n? Do you feel like the two of you work well together as parents?"

"Yes, I think we work really well together. We're both invested in our children, and we're both committed to giving them the best life possible. We've worked through a lot, and I think that's made us stronger as parents and as a couple." Y/n said. "As for being working parents, it's easy for us to feel guilty when we have to be away. I work corporate now and the hours are much more lax than being ADA in New York but they still keep me busy. I try to be home every night for dinner. We trade off on pickups and drop-offs. We help with extracurriculars. It was important to us to not have nannies in their first few years of life. Natasha's parents help us out a lot. With four adults tackling six kids, it's been a pretty successful journey."

"It sounds like you've both been through a lot, but that you've managed to find strength and comfort in each other. What do you think has enabled you to endure these challenges, and what advice would you give other couples facing similar situations?"

Natasha's expression is thoughtful, her voice warm as she speaks. "I think we are the wrong couple. We would give the advice not to have six kids. I'm only half joking. Truthfully, don't bite off more than you can chew. Laugh sometimes. Understand that your children have their own personalities and lives. "

"We would advise you to communicate. Find ways to laugh and find balance. It's important to spend quality time together, and it's also important to prioritize individuality and personal space," Y/n advised.

"One of your children was recently diagnosed with autism. How has this affected your family, and what steps are you taking to support them?"

"Our youngest son was around two when he was diagnosed as level 1." Y/n began. "We've had a lot of support from the community, and we've found that having a network of people who understand has been invaluable. Our older children are incredibly supportive and understanding. They're doing their best to adapt, and they're learning about autism and how to support their brother."

"For you what were the signs you'd noticed in the beginning?"

"We noticed his lack of speech and the fact that he wouldn't make eye contact sometimes," Y/n answered. "A lot of his story is his to tell when he's old enough. We simply noticed that the way he sees the world and how he navigates it was different than what we had encountered previously. The speech was a big indicator for us. He wasn't necessarily delayed. He did have words later than we've seen but he started talking a little after his first birthday. Then the progress was stagnant for a while."

"It was an uphill battle to get him diagnosed," Natasha added. "A doctor we had seen referred us for an evaluation but then there was a process of everyone denying services simply because he seemed "normal". Their words, not mine. So we had to push for second and even third opinions."

"Once he was finally diagnosed we had to wait and then get a referral. So it was a long journey. But we are happy with his care and happy that we got it." Y/n explained. "He's such a happy kid. His favorite thing to do now is drive. So we got him a little electric car."

"We're lucky. He's been given a diagnosis at such a young age. It's given us a lot of time to prepare and get him the help he needs. There are still some struggles, and we're learning how to best support him, but he's a happy and healthy kid. That's the most important thing."

As they both pause, reflecting on their son’s progress, a quiet sense of gratitude fills the room. I notice the subtle shift in their expressions—while the joy they share in their child’s growth is evident, there’s also a deeper awareness lingering beneath their words.

“It sounds like you’ve worked hard to get him the care he deserves. But I imagine not every family can navigate that journey as successfully. Have your personal experiences influenced your involvement in advocating for children who aren’t able to receive such services as easily?”

Natasha speaks first. “Absolutely. We know that not every family has access to the resources we’ve been fortunate enough to find. And we’re deeply aware of how broken the system can be—how difficult it can be to get a diagnosis, let alone services.”

“That’s a huge part of why we’ve become so involved in local charities and programs. We wanted to find ways to give back and support those who might not have the same opportunities we’ve had. Some so many children go undiagnosed or whose families can’t afford the therapy or services they need. It’s heartbreaking.” Y/n added. “We’ve partnered with a few organizations that focus on providing evaluations and therapy to kids from low-income families. No child should be left behind because of a lack of resources.”

“It’s about creating equity in care. We’ve also started working with a program that connects families with community support, helping them navigate the same bureaucratic challenges we faced. It’s so important that families don’t feel isolated in these experiences.”

"I imagine there are times when it can be difficult to balance your activism and advocacy work with your responsibilities as parents. How do you strike a balance between being hands-on and present for your children and the work you do for children who aren't yours?"

Natasha nods, her eyes softening. "I've had the opportunity to meet a lot of amazing people over the years, and I've learned a lot from the mothers I've met."

The interview continues for a while after this, they are willing to offer more than we thought at this point.

"Natasha, you’ve made a significant transition from being a covert operative to becoming a beloved public figure. How has this shift impacted your personal identity and daily life? Are there any changes you feel are still needed to create a more balanced world?"

"I'd say I'm more grounded. My priorities are my family, and I've made peace with who I was," Natasha said.

"What has been the most challenging aspect of your reformation, and what have you learned about yourself through this process?"

"Honestly, learning to be comfortable in my own skin," Natasha replied, her tone thoughtful. "I spent so many years trying to run away from who I was, and now I'm learning how to accept myself for who I am. It's a process, and it's not always easy, but it's worth it."

"Do you see yourself as a different person today than you were a few years ago? It's really a task to go from Avenger and spy to mother and housewife. If so, how would you describe those changes, and what role have your personal experiences played in shaping them?"

“Absolutely, I’m a different person now,” Natasha said, her gaze thoughtful. “The shift from a life of constant action and secrecy to one focused on family and personal growth has been profound. I’ve gone from being a figure in the shadows to someone who finds joy in the simplicity of daily life. The experiences I’ve had, both the triumphs and the struggles, have shaped me into someone who values authenticity and connection over secrecy and solitude.”

“It’s been a journey of rediscovering who Natasha is beyond her past roles. I’ve seen her grow into someone who truly cherishes family life and finds purpose in being present. The transformation hasn’t been easy, but it’s been incredibly rewarding.”

As Natasha finishes her thought, there’s a brief silence, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Her transformation has clearly been a deeply personal journey, but it's one that also impacts the life she and Y/n have built together.

“Your personal growth is so evident, and it's clear that family plays a huge role in that. Speaking of family, you’ve chosen to live in a nondescript town for safety reasons. How has this decision affected your family life and your sense of community?”

Natasha and Y/n exchange a quick look, both understanding the unique circumstances that brought them to this quiet, unassuming place.

“It’s been a big adjustment, honestly. We chose this town because it offers us a level of privacy and security that’s hard to come by, given Natasha’s past and our family’s unique needs.”

Natasha: “At first, it was difficult. I mean, going from the world we knew—constantly on the move, always in high-pressure situations—to a quiet, suburban life was a huge shift,” she admitted, her expression softening. “But it’s given us a chance to just... breathe. To focus on our kids and our life together without the constant worry of the spotlight or danger.”

“And as for the sense of community, it’s been surprisingly strong. People here don’t pry. They respect our privacy, but they’ve been incredibly supportive. Our children are growing up with a sense of normalcy that we never really had back in New York."

“It sounds like this decision has given you a lot—both the space to focus on your family and a deeper connection to your community. Looking ahead, what are your goals and aspirations for your family and your individual careers?” I commented.

“For our family, I think the biggest goal is to continue creating a stable, loving environment for our kids. We want them to grow up feeling safe, supported, and like they can be whoever they want to be. We’ve faced so many challenges together, but our focus is on moving forward as a unit.”

“Yeah, it’s all about giving them the opportunities we didn’t have growing up. Whether that’s through education, or just being there for them every day. As for careers, I’m still figuring it out, honestly,” Natasha added with a laugh. “I’ve spent most of my life doing one thing, and now that chapter’s closed. But I’m not in a rush. I’m more focused on being present for the kids, supporting Y/n, and maybe finding ways to give back—whether through advocacy or community work.”

“I’m continuing with my legal work, but the focus is more on balancing that with family. We’ve talked about doing more together, maybe starting a foundation to support families with children who need additional services, like our son. That’s something we’re both passionate about.”

Natasha: “We’ve both changed so much over the years, and I think our goals have evolved too. Right now, it’s about keeping our family grounded and finding meaningful ways to contribute to the world.”

As our conversation wound down, Natasha and Y/n shared a look that spoke volumes—an unspoken understanding that their lives, once dominated by secrecy and survival, had shifted into something more tender, more hopeful. They thanked me for the thoughtful questions, and I couldn't help but admire the quiet strength that radiated between them. It was clear that their bond had weathered many storms and that their family was the center of everything they did.

As I left their nondescript home, nestled safely away from the chaos that defined much of Natasha’s earlier years, I couldn’t help but think of the millions of fans who’ve followed her journey from mysterious spy to dedicated mother and advocate. Online, the love for Natasha and Y/n is as strong as it is in person, with fans showing unwavering support for their family.

On Twitter, the response to their candidness in interviews like this one is overwhelming:

@MarvelFanGirl99: “Natasha Romanoff’s transformation is so inspiring. From Avenger to mom of six? She’s proof you can rebuild your life no matter where you start. #RoleModel”*

@JusticeForNatasha: “Hearing Natasha talk about her family is everything. She deserves all the happiness in the world after everything she’s been through. So proud of her! ❤️ #StrongMom”*

@YNatasha4Life: “Y/n and Natasha are the definition of power couple goals. The way they’ve built a life together and support each other? I’m emotional. #LoveWins”*

@AutismAdvocates: *“Kudos to Natasha and Y/n for speaking openly about their son’s autism diagnosis. Representation matters, and their advocacy for services is so important. #Awareness”*

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natasha romanov

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rebeliz7 · 2 years ago

Text

CHARMER

Wanda Maximoff x Black Widow Reader

Request: A request for Wanda, where people are constantly asking her out , but R says no to all of them, until on day she's so fed up with it and spills the fact that she's a lesbian and in love with Wanda.

Word count: 2974

“Someone looks great today.” Sam casually says as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the kitchen island, where you’re enjoying a cup of coffee by yourself and he can have a better sight of you.

“Is that a compliment, wings?” You grin at him and he grins back, his eyes glinting as he very openly checks you out.

“Picture this.” He tells you with a hinting raise of his eyebrows and puffing chest. “You and me, in a nice restaurant, delicious food and tasty wine.”

His confidence impresses you, not that you’re about to tell him that. Besides, he’s not the first one to ask you out this week, and he won’t be the first one to be met with a gentle no.

“Are we dressed to the nines?” You still play along, mostly because humor is the only way you can deal with their advances, and his smile widens.

“I’m wearing a three piece, and you’re in a tight low cut dress. Have you seen me in a three piece? We look great! Everyone around us is jealous about how good we look.” He says, and you take a sip of your coffee. He looks so hopeful that you almost feel bad for what you’re about to say.

“Sorry, wings. I’m busy for the rest of the week.” You tell him before you take your cup to the sink, and he groans playfully.

“Come on, girl.” He says but you’re already walking out of the kitchen.

“Thanks, babe. But I’m not going on a date with you.”

“That was cold.” He tells you with a pointed look, and you wink at him, which makes him smile.

Not that you don’t find Sam extremely attractive, but he’s not exactly the person you’re interested in.

…

Wanda is the kind of person that can light up a room with a single smile, and you always notice.

“Hey, babe.” You kiss her cheek in greeting as you walk over to her when she enters the gym.

“Gross.” She scrunches up her nose adorably, her hand on your chest pushing you away, and you kiss her cheek again in jest.

You’ve been in the gym for two hours already, you’re drenched in your own sweat, and she looks like she just got out of bed.

“You need to shower.” She laughs, and playfully cleans her cheek with the back of her hand. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours.” You shrug easily, your eyes firmly locked with hers. God! She’s beautiful, and you’re a goner.

“I’m gonna do the mandatory thirty minutes on the treadmill and you need to, please, shower.” She tells you, and your chest tightens so unexpectedly that you take a deep breath to get a grip, and you open your mouth to blurt everything out, but you catch yourself a millisecond before you do.

You want to tell her that you find her incredibly adorable, and that you cannot stop thinking about kissing her. God! You want her to know that you want her, all of her. You want her to count on you because you’d never let her down.

Jesus Christ! You have no idea of when you turned into this person, but she makes you want to blurt out Neruda and such. She makes you want a relationship, and it unsettles you as much as it scares you.

“Breakfast first. Shower later.” You tell her, and she gives you a confused look before she practically shoves you out of the gym.

“Get out of here, or I’ll never get anything done.”

You leave her to it, but you can’t stop thinking about her smile for the rest of the day.

…

“So.” Natasha says as she slips in the empty seat next to yours. “Steve did not take your rejection very well.”

You’ve been watching Wanda help Vision make a cocktail behind the bar for the last couple of minutes, and Natasha’s words are so unexpected that your brain has to take a couple of seconds to process them, and then catch up.

You blink a couple of times, all the while feeling Natasha’s eyes glued to your profile. Steve asked you out yesterday, but you never thought he’d share your rejection with anyone, not even with Nat.

“He told you.” You speak, but you do not give into her tactics. She’s aiming for a reaction but you’re both spies, and she should give you a little more credit than that.

“He told everyone.” She laughs before taking the glass of scotch she’s been holding, to her lips and taking a delicate sip of the amber liquid.

“He’s not my type.” You shrug and she hums, her eyes assessing you openly.

“If the boys are not your type, then maybe I am.” She tells you, and you’re pretty sure that if you’d have been drinking anything, you’d have spit it out right then.

“Do you guys have a bet going on or something?” You ask her conversationally, but the little smirk on her lips tells you that you’re not as subtle as you wish you were.

“At this point I’m just curious.” She tells you as your eyes find Wanda across the room again. Vision is watching her with a look that you can easily read, as can everyone else in the room. He’s in love with her, even if he doesn’t really know what love is.

“Don’t tell me you have a thing for Vision.” Nat laughs, and you join in.

“He’s handsome, untouched and willing to learn. He’s a catch.” You tell her and she laughs, shakes her head, and when you catch her eyes she’s giving you a knowing look.

“So Sam asked you out, and you said no.” She says and you hum, nodding your head. “Bruce did too, and you also said no to him.”

“What are you getting at?” You ask her with an amused smile on your lips, but unwilling to have her narrate the last couple of weeks of your life. “If there’s a bet going on, I want in, and fifty percent of the profits.”

“Steve asked you out yesterday and he’s over there now, trying his hardest to avoid being anywhere near you.” She continues, completely ignoring what you just said.

“Boys will be boys.” You tell her in a mocking tone, and she sips her drink once more, humming and looking at you curiously.

“You’re not that into guys or you’re in love with someone already.” She says, her eyes firmly locked with yours.

“Love is for children.” Your response is immediate, a well programmed answer for a concept that you were taught to despise.

Your eyes instantly flicker towards Wanda, and Nat hums thoughtfully by your side. Wanda’s eyes meet yours and she smiles, and your heart does this strange thing that makes you feel as if you’re suffocating, and living all at once.

“Love is love.” Natasha tells you, and you feel yourself sagging in your seat. “There’s no bet. We’re just curious, that’s all.”

…

When Carol casually asks you to dance with her on New Year’s Eve, you don’t think anything of it until you catch the look in her eyes when she spins you around.

It’s been a couple of weeks since your talk with Natasha, and you still have not gathered the courage to ask Wanda out, or even make a move at all.

“I have a question for you.” Carol says and you try to avoid looking into her eyes. But when you’re pressed against each other, dancing in the middle of the living room, it’s near impossible.

It’s a small gathering with only the team, and a few close friends. You agreed to welcome the new year among the people you trust the most and it’s been an enjoyable evening so far.

“You hair is getting long.” You tell her, careful to keep your hands on her shoulders, and not anywhere suggestive.

“Is that a subtle way to warn me out of my question?” She shoots back, and you look around you quickly.

Clint is dancing with his wife, and Tony with Pepper, while Frank Sinatra’s ‘something stupid’ softly plays in the background.

“No. Maybe.” You tell her, a soft smile on your lips. “Ask away.”

“You want to go out with me?” She asks and you want to laugh, but that’d be cruel and disrespectful all at once. What is it with these guys?

“Not you too.” You groan, and she laughs good naturally.

“That’s a no, right?” She asks with humor, and you share a laugh together.

“I’m sorry.” You tell her.

“You don’t have to apologize.” She quickly tells you. “You’re beautiful, and anyone would be lucky to date you.”

…

Carol’s words stay with you for the rest of the night, and you grow immensely nervous. Wanda is once again, sharing a seat with Vision and laughing with him, they’ve grown close. She occasionally finds you staring and smiles at your direction, but the interaction doesn’t feel like enough.

You want to make her laugh, you want to be sitting next to her. You want and you want… and you don’t know how to play things right.

All your life you’ve been taught to approach things like a mission. Love was never an option, and sex was always a weapon. This team, this place, these people… they all are the first real things in your life, and you don’t want to lose that.

“I’m kissing Steve.” Natasha declares, and your attention returns back to the conversation taking place. It’s eleven thirty, and everyone is laughing while Steve blushes and smiles prettily.

“I’m going with Val.” Carol says, a smile on her face as she winks at Valkyrie, and you laugh along with everyone else.

“What about you, hot stuff?” Natasha asks you with a devilish smirk and you shrug, unbothered.

“Anyone is fine.” You tell her but your answer is quickly turned into something that you weren’t expecting.

“You can kiss me.” Sam happily offers, and you shrug because you really don’t mind, a kiss is just a kiss.

“I’m free.” Bruce tells you with a sweet smile.

“Me too.” Steve says and Natasha huffs indignantly at his offering.

“No, you’re not!” She tells him, and her words are met with more laughter.

“Wait a second.” Tony finally intervenes. “I knew Steve asked you out and you rightfully rejected him.”

“Come on.” You tell him, already smelling trouble.

“Don’t get me wrong, I agree with the rejection. But Sam and Bruce?” His eyes widen with glee, and you feel your skin prickle.

“You all asked her out too?” Sam confusedly asks, and this is officially the most awkward conversation you’ve ever had in your life.

“Well, she said no to me too.” Bruce says.

“She said no to me too.” Carol interjects, and you stand up from the couch, your eyes briefly meeting Wanda’s thoughtful ones.

“Please, babes.” You huff out with an odd laugh. You just want out of this conversation.

“You’re telling me that none of these guys are good enough for you?” Tony teases you.

“I’m saying that none of you can handle all of this.” You motion to yourself and they all laugh, all but one. Wanda is still looking at you with a thoughtful expression in her eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Rhodey says as he stands up and joins you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Little brother over there is a catch! What’s not to like?”

“Is what I’m saying!” Sam says with a charming smile.

“Or the Captains! Both of them!” Rhodey clicks his tongue, and everyone joins in on his proposal.

“Sorry, babes. Not my type.” You wink at them, and Rhodey laughs.

“One date.” Sam tells you, filling the silence, and you wiggle out of Rhodey’s hold.

“You’re out of luck, pretty boy.” You tell him with humor, all the while thinking about ways to get out of this conversation.

“Why though?” He asks, feigning hurt.

“You just are.” You shake your head.

“Kiss at midnight?” Carol offers you.

“What about Val?” You ask her.

“I can handle the two of you.” Carol shrugs, and you laugh at the ridiculousness of all of this.

“No, you can’t.” Val laughs, and you laugh with her.

“It’s almost midnight.” You say, trying your hardest to move on from the topic. But Tony is having none of it.

“So, four of the most attractive people in this room ask you out, and you say not to all of them.” He says, and your eyes stray towards Wanda again. She’s biting the inside of her cheek now, her eyes avoiding yours.

“Stop with this.” Pepper intervenes, probably taking pity on you. “Leave her alone.”

“I just want to know why. Don’t you want to know why?” Tony insists.

“She said no to me too.” Natasha adds, and you groan.

“What? Widow asked you out too?” Carol exclaims, and now you’re just feeling uncomfortable.

“One would think that you can take rejection with some dignity.” You tell them.

“One would think that.” Clint interviene. “But we’re all children. Tell us why you said no.”

“That’s enough.” You say but Clint only laughs, and everyone laughs along with him.

“Tell us why.” Val says with a laugh.

“Yeah. Tell us.” Bruce joins in, and you’re tempted to just leave the room.

“You’re all not that attractive to me. That’s all.” You tell them, still trying to keep a light tone but wanting to end this at the same time.

“Bullshit. We’re all gorgeous. Tell us.” Natasha laughs but her words dare you, and you look at Wanda again. Her eyes meet yours, and you know what your answer is.

“I told you. You’re not that attractive to me.”

“Please.” Natasha says, not believing you.

“Tell us.” Sam says again, now more insistently.

“Tell us.” Steve says too, a cute smile on his face that does nothing for you.

“Come on, girl. Just tell us.” Val says too.

“I’m leaving. You’re all being annoying.” You declare, but before you can make a quick escape, Tony is blocking your only way out.

“Tell us.” He insists with a devilish smirk on his lips.

“I just don’t want to date any of you. Can we please drop this now?” You’re losing your patience, and you really don’t want to keep talking about it.

“But why?” Sam whines.

“Because!” You practically yell.

“But why?” Natasha demands, and you look at her stupid innocent face with anger flaring within you.

“Because the only person I want to be dating is Wanda! That’s why.”

Your eyes widen as soon as you’re done speaking, and Natasha is smiling.

Before you can see the look on everyone’s faces, you close your eyes and will yourself to calm down though.

You can hear your own heart beating, and your face is burning up. You’re blushing, and that has never happened to you before.

“Finally.” Natasha asserts, and you feel like punching her. “That wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?” She says when you open your eyes to find her now close to you.

“I hate you.” You tell her, and she winks at you. Wanting the earth to open up and swallow you whole, you don’t notice everyone leaving the room, everyone but Wanda.

…

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Wanda asks you when you sit down next to her.

Now that everything's out in the open, this conversation is actually happening.

“I honestly don’t know.” You tell her. “I just know that I really like you, and I might have feelings for you that go way beyond friendship, and I didn’t want to mess that up.”

“I kinda have feelings that go way beyond friendship for you too.” She cheekily says and you almost laugh, but the look on her face is so adorable that it ends up taking your breath away.

“You do, huh?” You ask as she scoots closer to you. It’s almost midnight now.

“Do you want to go out with me?” She asks you, staring right into your eyes, and so incredibly close that you’re sharing the same breath.

“I do.” You nod, your eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips repeatedly. “I really, really do.”

You’re wondering why you’ve been waiting for this all this time when your friends begin to cheer from the back patio and fireworks alight the skies, and the lights reflect in Wanda’s eyes.

“Happy New Year.” She whispers, and you lightly grip the collar of her jacket with both hands.

“Happy New Year.” You whisper back right before you pull her closer to you, and kiss her.

She kisses you back, her hands gripping your hair, and her body pressing yours against the back of the couch.

“Happy New Year, weirdos.” Natasha calls out from the back door, a smile on her face when both of you turn to look at her. “Now, come out here, and hug everyone.”

“I hate her.” You tell Wanda as she helps you on your feet.

“She was teasing you the whole time.”

“I know.” You groan, but before you can make your way out you pull her back to you and kiss her again, and again.

“I’m flattered, just so you know.” She tells you when you pull back. “Rejecting Carol must have been hard.” She says in jest but you kiss her again, your arms wrapping around her waist to keep her close to you.

“No.” You admit, looking into her green eyes. “Not to me.”

“Charmer.” She murmurs before she’s kissing you again.

You endure the teasing that comes your way when you go out to hug everyone else, because Wanda’s hand is warm in yours, and it was all worth it in the end.

…

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff

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