#gender neutral reader x avengers

[ginnsbaker]

My Sundown

Summary: You’ve been a Hydra agent for as long as you can remember, when Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, volunteers for Hydra's human experiments.

Word count: 10K+ | Tags: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader | Warnings: Only mentions of smut. Hurt/comfort. Reader is a little older than Wanda. Some angst. | A/N: I missed writing for Wanda, and have always wanted to write canon-ish oneshots for the MCU character. Main Masterlist

-

When they first bring her in, she looks like she's been through hell—eyes hollow, skin pale, a storm simmering just beneath the surface. Her hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer, unbridled power flowing through her veins. The room seems to shrink under the weight of it, as if even the walls are aware of what she’s capable of. The other recruits are scared and jittery, but she’s different. Her brother too—both rough around the edges, like two sides of the same scarred coin.

“Where did they round up these rats now?” you mutter to Lev, who’s standing dutifully beside you—the only person you've let close enough to be called a friend in all your years with Hydra.

“Sokovian volunteers,” he corrects you, eyes fixed straight ahead, mirroring your own unblinking focus on the twins. Maybe he feels the strange energy coming off them too, or maybe it’s just the routine numbness that sets in after years of blindly following orders.

You nod slightly, though the term volunteer feels like a cruel joke. No one truly volunteers for this. 

“Agent.” 

Dr. List’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts, dreary and impersonal. He calls everyone that way, as if you're just another tool, interchangeable and anonymous. It’s an intentional tactic—strip away the names, and you strip any sense of humanity.  Without a name, you’re not a person; you’re just a weapon at their disposal.

But you know he means you.

You step forward. “Sir,” you reply, maintaining a ramrod straight posture, your eyes fixed on a spot just beside his perpetually scowling face. It seems all villains share that same dour expression, but if this woman—this girl—makes it through the experiments and officially joins the ranks, she might just break the mold, looking more like an angel than a monster. You quickly shake off the thought, stifling a grimace at the odd turn your thoughts have taken.

When you risk a quick glance at her, you catch a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, as if she knows exactly what you were just thinking.

“You’re to oversee Wanda Maximoff’s progress,” Dr. List continues without sparing you a second glance. “Ensure she complies. If she doesn’t…” He lets the threat hang, but you don't need him to spell it out. You know what Hydra does to those who don't meet expectations.

“And the boy?” you ask, genuinely curious about the other twin.

Dr. List gives you a sharp look, like he suspects something. Questions are frowned upon here, but ever since you laid eyes on Wanda, a persistent tingling has crept up the back of your neck.

To put it bluntly, she unnerves you, and you'd much prefer to deal with her brother.

“Strucker decided to…take a more hands-on approach with him,” Dr. List says.

“Understood, sir,” you reply crisply, reaffirming your commitment to your orders. You steal another glance at Wanda, only to feel a rush of heat when you realize she’s been watching you the entire time.

-

Wanda looks even more formidable once she’s showered and changed into fresh clothes. You can’t decide if it’s because the sinister gleam in her eyes remains untouched or because the grime and hardships of life on the streets have been washed away, revealing a haunting beauty beneath the dirt. Clean, she’s striking—but that beauty only makes her more dangerous. You’ve tried to delay any direct interaction with her, but this morning, Dr. List visited to follow up on the initial assessment, leaving you no more time to postpone. After a week of stalling, you’re out of excuses, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.

As she steps out of the small bathroom, her damp hair clings to her shoulders, softening her otherwise sharp features. The moment she becomes aware of your presence, her gaze locks onto you, and she begins to comb the wet tendrils back with her slender fingers. Your hand tightens around your keycard involuntarily as you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Wanda is just like any other volunteer who entered the organization and never left its walls to see the light of day. Besides, you’re armed, and Wanda is not. It’s ridiculous to be this on edge around someone who's at a disadvantage.

“You,” Wanda murmurs, her accent rolling off her tongue like a slow, winding river.

“Shall we begin?” you ask, keeping your tone even and detached. You can’t afford to let her see how much she frighte—affects you.

Wanda ignores your request. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you with a keenness that makes your skin prickle. You meet her stare, determined not to show any cracks, even though your heart's hammering away.

Finally, she nods—a small, almost imperceptible movement. 

You clear your throat and motion towards the small cot given to them as beds. “Please, have a seat,” you say.

This time, Wanda complies without a word. 

You glance around the room, searching for a seat, and silently berate yourself for not arranging one beforehand. It’s a small oversight, but it makes you feel foolish. With no other option, you settle against the farthest wall, opposite her, and lean against it, though it doesn’t make you feel any more grounded than you did a second ago.

In your hand is a file detailing everything Hydra knows about her, which isn’t much. You open it with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages, but you’re aptly aware of her eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Wanda Maximoff,” you start. “The procedures you're about to undergo are highly experimental. Hydra won't be held responsible for any injuries, no matter if they're permanent or temporary.”

Including death. But you are prohibited from disclosing this to avoid causing panic or stress among the subjects.

Wanda says nothing, her expression unreadable, but you can sense she’s lingering on a thought. Not sure what it is, you go on, falling back on the lines you've memorized these last few months.

“These procedures will enhance your natural abilities, giving you powers beyond what you may or may not currently possess. However, there are risks involved. Do you understand the nature of these risks?”

Wanda nods again. It’s the same answer you’ve received from countless other volunteers, most of whom had no idea what they were truly signing up for. But there’s something different about her, something in the way she holds herself that tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting into—and she’s not afraid.

“There will be a series of physical and psychological evaluations. We will push you to your breaking point and beyond. It is crucial that you cooperate fully. Resistance will only make the process more difficult, both for you and for us.”

You scan her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but she's a blank slate. It’s as if she’s made peace with whatever fate awaits her here. That bothers you more than you’d care to admit.

“We will also be conducting interviews throughout the process,” you continue. “These will assess your mental state, your thoughts, your fears. Everything you say will be documented, and nothing will be private.”

Wanda's eyes narrow a touch, the first sign of any emotion since she sat down. It’s subtle, but you notice it. Maybe the thought of her mind being picked apart like a lab specimen is getting to her more than the threat of physical harm. Or it could be something else entirely.

“We’ll begin the physical tests tomorrow,” you say, closing the file and hugging it to your chest. “For now, you should rest and eat as much as you like. Your room is monitored constantly. If you need anything, just ask, though your movement around the facility will be restricted.”

The mask of indifference slips back into place. Wanda leans back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows in a display of casual ease. 

“Do you have any questions?” you ask, mostly because you have to, not because you really want to know. You figure she won't ask anything—most are too scared or too defeated to speak up. 

But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.

“Why do you do this?”

You can’t help it—a faint smile begins to creep across your face at her question. Most volunteers, when they ask anything at all, are fixated on their own impending ordeal, too scared of what's coming. 

But Wanda isn't asking about herself; she's asking about you. It feels like forever since anyone showed that kind of interest.

Pausing at the doorway, you turn your head just enough for her to see the profile of your face. 

“I do what I'm told,” you say, dodging the deeper question she posed—the real why behind your actions. The truth is, you stopped asking why a long time ago. Reasons tend to blur into excuses when moral lines are crossed in an organization you once trusted.

You're already tapping your keycard against the scanner when Wanda speaks again.

“Will doing what you're told bring them back?”

Her question spins you around so fast it's almost like whiplash. How did Wanda know about that? Was it just a wild guess meant to throw you off? Whatever it was, it worked.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t even remember the last time you even thought about them. You've never shared this with anyone—not even Lev. Only a handful of Hydra figures were ever privy to your past.

Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone dismissive as she curls into a fetal position, turning her back to you.

If your theory holds, Wanda might be the key Hydra has been searching for—the one who can unlock the powers of the scepter that have eluded so many others. Her apparent ability to read minds could be the very breakthrough Dr. List has been waiting for. 

Finding yourself hesitating to report this discovery surprises you. It’s almost ironic how your conscience decides to kick in now, just when Hydra's goal seems tantalizingly close with the acquisition of the twins. You know what Hydra would do if they realized just how special she is, and the thought of them twisting her into something monstrous is something you can’t even begin to imagine.

-

In the days that follow, you keep quiet about your suspicions regarding Wanda’s innate abilities. You tell yourself that Dr. List will probably uncover them through his experiments soon enough. It’s definitely not because you're worried about what they might do if they decide to fast-track her program.

Yes, you’re just staying out of it, certainly not because you want to protect her.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

-

Your next face-to-face with Wanda comes a week later.

Though you have merely been observing her through a two-way mirror, you've been plagued by sleepless nights since your last meeting, and not even the strongest sedatives at your disposal have helped. Thoughts of her well-being nag at you, despite Hydra's strict rules limiting interaction between volunteers and handlers to prevent any emotional attachments. Such attachments have formed before, and Hydra has always dealt with them ruthlessly.

When you enter her room, she's in the same position as before—curled up on her cot, making herself appear small and almost childlike. She looks up as the door closes behind you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet recognition. 

As you step closer, the hollowness of her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale complexion are unmistakable. The word weathered hardly does justice to the toll her first week has taken. You know exactly what she’s been through. The tests here aren’t just tests—they’re torture, meant to break people down, body and mind. Even with her powers and confidence, Wanda shows the same signs of strain. She's slight, frail, and clearly, she's had as rough a time as anyone else here.

This time, you come prepared with a metal chair and a freshly prepared tea set next to it, and take a seat across from her.

“How are you holding up?” you ask, although the answer seems painfully obvious.

Wanda shrugs, barely moving, as if the effort to appear okay is too much for her. But then she surprises you.

“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”

You weren’t expecting that. After everything she’s been through, she’s asking for more? You thought she’d be wary, maybe even broken by now. But the question says otherwise. She’s been through hell, and she’s still pushing forward, demanding more. Is she courting death?

“You seem in a hurry,” you say, hiding your worry behind a soft chuckle. 

Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t come here to wait around. If they want to use me, they need to make me stronger.”

Use me.

How disconcerting. She’s asking for more—more pain, more trials. As if everything she’s endured isn’t enough, as if she needs it to become something greater. It’s reckless and foolish, to say the least.

“We’re moving as fast as we can—”

“Move faster.”

“Wanda,” you say quietly. “What you’re asking for... it could break you.”

“I’m already broken,” she declares, cold and matter-of-fact. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s only when you notice the disgust in her eyes that you realize you’ve been looking at her with pity. Wanda is about to snap back, likely to tell you she doesn’t need your sympathy, when her expression shifts abruptly to one of curiosity.

She tilts her head, studying you—or maybe, with the mirth in her eye, it’s more like she’s mocking you. 

“You look at me like that again, and I’ll ask you a question,” Wanda says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You stiffen, uncertain of what's coming next, but before you can say anything, she continues.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you, abrupt and a bit too loud—almost like you're trying to convince both yourself and Wanda how absurd she’s being. But as the laughter dies down, you feel your face heat up, your cheeks flushing a telltale red that you can't hide.

“No,” you say, your gaze dropping to the floor as you shake your head. You clasp your hands behind your back, one finger nervously picking at a cuticle. “This isn’t what this is about.”

Wanda smirks slightly, her lips twitching, amused by your discomfort. “Isn't it?” 

For a split second, you start to doubt everything. Did you really want to sleep with her? It's been ages since you've even considered intimacy with anyone—maybe too long. Life here doesn't leave space for that kind of thinking, and even if it did, the situation wouldn't allow it. Your heart's been shattered so often you're sure there's nothing left to give—especially not to someone you've only known for a week.

Wait—love?

This is, at best, lust—nothing more.

“No,” you repeat with more conviction.

Wanda’s smirk fades into a slow, knowing smile. “Fine. Just know the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

A proposition. It’s not the first time you’ve received one, but this offer sticks with you longer than you’d like. Wanda’s already spent too much time in your thoughts, and you’re desperate to shake her off and get back to the task at hand. But she makes it maddeningly hard to do so.

Without looking at her, you clear your throat and begin the routine interview. You refuse to focus on the fact that she’s just openly considered a physical encounter with you—and you’re definitely not considering it in return. 

“Have you noticed any unusual side effects since the last session? Headaches, nausea, dizziness?” you ask, skipping the pleasantries.

“No,” she says dryly. “No headaches. No nausea. No dizziness.”

You jot down her answers, ignoring her evident disinterest in the proceedings.

“Any changes in your sleep pattern?” you continue.

“No.”

“Any unusual pain or discomfort?” you ask, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, but her focus is on the rings on her fingers. The prisoners—volunteers, you correct yourself—aren't supposed to keep any personal items. It baffles you how she managed to hold on to those cheap pieces of metal and silver.

It takes Wanda a moment to respond. “Just the usual soreness.”

You suspect it's more than just soreness. She’s probably downplaying the pain, so you make a note beside her answer.

“Alright, we’ll keep an eye on that. Any changes in your mood? Irritability, anxiety, anything like that?”

Wanda shrugs. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Noted. We’ll stick with the same regimen for now. Any concerns or questions about the next phase?”

“What happened to them?” Wanda asks, steering the interview off course.

Annoyance flares up as she probes again, prying into your business. “Don’t you already know?” you snap, your patience wearing thin.

But Wanda doesn’t even blink. She isn’t scared, and that just irks you even more. She should be, if she knew what you’ve done to others who’ve pushed your buttons. You’ve never hesitated to throw your weight around with those who make your job harder.

“Sometimes what really happened and how we remember it are two entirely different stories,” she says, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Our mind protects us from the truth. It obscures what’s real, and what’s not becomes all we remember.”

You're stone-still, your mind drifting back to the past Wanda keeps prodding at. You don't even have a picture of your family anymore. Their voices are gone from your memory, and you're barely holding onto their faces. It used to tear you apart, thinking about them, but now there's just emptiness. You realize Wanda can’t rattle you—she has no leverage because there’s nothing left inside you to disrupt.

You’ve got nothing.

“Y/N?” Wanda presses, her features tightening with concern. 

You consider throwing her blunt words right back at her, but you hold off. Instead, you set the clipboard down on the counter with a soft clack. Turning to the medical cart, you grab a tray of needles and tools, then bring it over to her bed. Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and she scoots back as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s satisfying to finally see her react with something other than that usual smug, unshakable attitude. You pick up a syringe, fill it with a bright yellow liquid from an unmarked bottle, and swipe a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the top.

“What’s that?” Wanda asks evenly, though you can detect traces of doubt in it that suggest she’s trying to put up a brave front. 

“Supplements.”

Wanda raises a skeptical brow. 

You lift the syringe slightly, letting it catch the light so she can see exactly what you’re holding.

“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.

Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.

With her consent, you scoot closer until your knees almost touch. You gently roll up the sleeve of her scrubs, exposing her arm. This close, you can see the goosebumps on her skin and feel the slight tremors running through her. You hadn't noticed before, but she's shivering—not from the cold, but probably from a fever.

Instinctively, you press your palm against her forehead. Wanda flinches but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she settles into your touch and lets out a small sigh.

“You're hot,” you blurt out, and then quickly realize the unintended double entendre. Fortunately, Wanda lets it pass without comment. You retract your hand and hold the syringe up to her arm, poised but something stops you.

“What are you waiting for?” Wanda prompts impatiently.

You're thinking of straying from the usual protocol, knowing the yellow meds might worsen Wanda's condition, especially with her fever spiking. Deciding against it, you put the syringe down and grab another bottle off the cart, this one filled with a clear liquid.

“Change of plans,” you murmur, prepping the new syringe. You nod at her for her arm, and she shifts closer, making it easier for you. When you depress the plunger, it's quick—so quick that Wanda barely feels the needle's prick.

You pull out the needle and press a small bandage onto the spot. “All done,” you announce.

Wanda massages her arm, feeling no real pain at the injection site. “T-Thanks,” she murmurs softly.

You acknowledge her gratitude with a nod and start collecting your notebook and tools. As you rise to leave, Wanda's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist urgently. You turn, meeting her striking, green eyes.

“I’m sorry about your family,” she murmurs quietly. Her words solidify your suspicion: she came to Hydra with powers already in tow. Mind reading or memory extraction would be invaluable to Hydra, and now, with even more power at your fingertips, you find yourself hesitating to use it.

If Dr. List catches wind of your hesitations, the reprisals will be brutal.

You glance down pointedly at where she's holding your hand, but Wanda doesn’t let go.

“It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Time doesn't really heal that kind of loss,” she says, still holding onto you.

“No, but you learn to live with it,” you reply, feeling the truth of your own words.

Wanda's hold slackens but remains. You feel awkward standing there, yet something holds you back from pulling away. You hadn't realized until now how starved you were for such a simple, human connection.

“I lost my parents the same way,” she shares.

“I'm sorry,” you say, and you really mean it. You can't read Wanda like she seems to read you, but in this brief moment, with the walls down, you decide to ask, “Is that why you came to us? To avenge your parents?”

Wanda's grip loosens completely, and she lets go of your wrist. You rub the spot where her fingers were, still feeling the warmth she left behind.

“‘Avenge’,” she spits out. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close. “I hate that word. Pietro and I, we're here to stop them. I wish… I wish they’d just leave Sokovia alone. They won’t leave because we can’t fight back.”

Your own past with Hydra comes to mind as she speaks. Back then, you joined because you were out of options. No country to fight for, no people to call yours. It strikes you how different Wanda's motivations are—rooted in something far more personal and noble. She deserves more than what Hydra can offer. 

Wanda looks at you, waiting for an answer. When you don't say anything, she pushes, “Do you think we made the right decision coming here?”

You're all too aware of Hydra’s real agenda. They're not about peace. They're here to extend their control, to bend the world around their so-called divine mission. 

“Sometimes, you don't know if it’s the right choice until it's too late to change it,” you say, knowing it’s not much of an answer. It's just the bitter truth you've come to know. It's all you can offer Wanda.

“Can you do me a favor, Y/N? Will you look after Pietro?”

The same way you’ve been looking out for me, Wanda thinks to herself, relieved that there’s only one telepath in the room.

“No promises,” you say.

Wanda gives a slight nod and starts to withdraw again. She settles back down on the cot, turning away from you, the conversation clearly over.

-

Lev sneaks into your room just before midnight, the door giving a soft creak as it swings open. Though friends, you typically keep to your own spaces. You blink sleepily at him, fighting to sit up and shake off the grogginess.

“Dr. List decided to skip ahead,” Lev says in a rush, closing the door with a gentle click. “He’s moved forward with exposing the twins to the scepter.”

“When?” You're wide awake now, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Lev’s eyes dart to the small window in your room before returning to you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “An hour ago.”

That can’t be good. It’s far sooner than anyone had anticipated. Dr. List’s decision to advance the timeline without further testing could have unpredictable consequences. You swing your legs off the bed, your brain ticking through the possible scenarios.

“What’s the status now? How did Wan—the twins react?” you ask, grabbing your jacket and shoes and throwing them on without taking your eyes off Lev.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They rushed them to the Observation Chamber right after the exposure. Everything’s been kept under wraps.”

You pace a few steps, mulling over your next move. Exposure to the scepter has been lethal for everyone. Even with Wanda's unique abilities, there’s no guarantee she’ll pull through when others haven't.

“We need more information. Can you get access to the observation logs?”

Lev nods, though his expression shows his apprehension. “I’ll try. But security has been tighter since the exposure.”

You catch the anxious twist of his mouth at the idea of sneaking around, and choose to spare him the risk. His relief is palpable when you tell him, “I'll handle it myself.”

He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”

Only a select few can get into the Observation Chamber, and your badge isn’t on that list. You're going to need something stronger than just caution.

-

You slip your underwear back on, feeling Laura’s eyes tracing the contours of your body. 

After Lev left, you headed straight for her. Laura Brown, the Hydra director's daughter, hadn't seen you in almost a year, but the nature of your previous encounters left little doubt she'd be open to reconnecting.

Laura reclines on the bed, a sheet loosely draped around her, smirking as she watches you.  “I knew you'd come back eventually,” she purrs, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

You straighten up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as you button your shirt. “I need a favor, Laura.” 

She leans back against the headboard, the sheet falling to her waist and revealing her bare chest. “This sounds serious.”

“I need to get into the Observation Chamber. Tonight,” you say. You despise asking her—or anyone, really—for favors, but you need to see Wanda. It's imperative.

Laura's eyebrows go up, her smile growing. “Direct and desperate. What's in it for me?”

“What do you want?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

She thinks it over, then answers, “Keep me company tonight, no strings attached. Just like the old days.”

“Done.”

Laura claps her hands, clearly pleased, and tosses you the badge from the bedside table. 

You pick it up, feeling a bit degraded, like you're picking up coins someone's thrown your way. “I'll be right back,” you promise.

-

The guards give you weird looks as you show up at the Observation Chamber. They had clear orders: only Dr. List or Baron Strucker can go in. But dropping the director’s daughter’s name does the trick. You flash her badge and they let you pass, no more questions asked.

The hallway is pitch-black. This place had been sleeping until now, woken up by the fact that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff hadn’t died like the others who met the scepter. Clearly labeled doors mark the new, grim function of the space.

You think about heading straight to Wanda's room, but you remember her earlier request and decide to check on Pietro first.

The soft beeping of monitors greets you as soon as you step inside his room. He's in rough shape, alive but barely hanging on. You quickly check the chart posted next to the door—it shows low blood pressure and a high dosage of Epinephrine administered, with a note that his chances of survival stand at only 57% as of 11:30 PM.

He looks much thinner and more worn than the last time you saw him, his condition evidently worse. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. As you move closer, you notice his body trembling, a sheen of sweat covering him despite the room's chill.

Quickly, you pull the extra covers from beneath his bed and wrap them around him, trying to stabilize his shivering. Then, you snag a water bottle from a nearby stand, helping him take slow, measured sips. 

Pietro looks at you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, struggling to form the words. “Who are you?”

“Just someone who made your sister a promise,” you say, scooping up some water in your palm and gently drizzling it over his head. Pietro sighs in relief. “Get some rest now, and try not to die.”

His eyes flutter shut in seconds, his breath smoothing out as sleep claims him. You linger just a moment to make sure he's really out, then hurry off towards Wanda's room. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear pulsing through you. Pietro was in rough shape; how bad might Wanda be? You cling to a shred of hope that she's holding up better.

The air stays heavy as you enter Wanda’s quarters. You tread lightly, making sure not to disturb her sleep, and check the medical chart by her bed. Unlike Pietro’s dire prognosis, Wanda's stats are steady, but still troubling. Her breaths are regular, without the distressing shivers that torment her brother.

What strikes you is how normal, how peacefully she's sleeping, despite her recent exposure to Loki’s scepter. 

Relieved to see her condition isn’t more severe, you end up at the foot of her bed. There isn’t much to do after confirming she’s stable, and you know you should head back to Laura. But leaving Wanda’s side proves difficult once you're there. Almost immediately, your mind floods with ideas on how to get her out of Hydra’s clutches. If they fully realized her potential, it wouldn't just be dangerous for her—it'd be catastrophic for anyone in their path. Internally, you start plotting escape routes and thinking about who might be willing to help.

It’s strange to think how you went from one of Hydra’s most devoted agents to scheming against them.

Lost in your plans, you're jolted back to the present when you feel a gentle nudge against your thigh. Wanda's foot is pressing against you. She's awake. You look up to find her eyes open, wary and searching.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from lack of use. “What—what happened?”

You subtly shift on the bed, making sure her toes aren't touching you anymore. You're not sure when you became so acutely aware of Wanda’s proximity, or of the points where your bodies meet.

“What do you remember before all this?” you ask.

She rubs her forehead, straining to recall. “There was a room... a stone emerging from the scepter. Bright lights… then nothing.”

You nod, already knowing half of what Wanda just told you. This is the first time anyone has lived to tell about their experience with the scepter, and you were hoping for more insights into how it unleashes its power. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about trying it yourself, wondering if you could resist its effects. Being Hydra, curiosity about power was a constant temptation.

“You weren't supposed to be exposed to the scepter yet,” you admit quietly. “Dr. List sped things up, maybe because he suspected—”

“Pietro,” she cuts in, her thoughts finally catching up. “Was he exposed to it too?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen, clouded with worry. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” you say. “I just saw him before coming here. He's stable, but it’s precarious.”

Wanda’s face crumples as soon as the words leave your lips. Before you can react, she throws her arms around you, her face buried in your shoulder. You freeze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve held someone like this, since you’ve allowed yourself to care enough to even consider it. But then you feel it—tears, warm and wet against your neck. She’s crying.

After a moment, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her, holding her as she trembles against you. You can feel her fear, her desperation. It cuts through your defenses, the ones you’ve built so carefully over the years.

You tighten your hold on her, offering what little comfort you can, but inside, you’re battling your own fear. You can’t afford to care about her this much—not here, not now. But as you hold her, feeling every shake of her body, you know it’s already too late.

Wanda's sobs slowly subside, and you pull back slightly, intent on offering some kind of reassurance despite how foreign it feels to you. You reach up, brushing away her tears with your thumb, trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, as your hand lingers on her cheek, she pins you with a quiet stare. Before you realize what’s happening, Wanda leans in and presses her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is brief, just a fraction of a second, but it leaves you utterly breathless. She pulls back almost immediately, watching you, waiting to see how you’ll react. For a heartbeat, you're stunned, but then something ignites inside you, something you’ve been holding back without even recognizing it. 

Acting on pure impulse, you reach up, grasp the back of her neck, and pull her in for another kiss. In an instant, you take control effortlessly, letting the animalistic and Hydra part of you come to the forefront. Your thumb presses roughly against her chin, coaxing her mouth open, and you slide your tongue in, staking your claim. Wanda responds with a gasp, her hands clutching at your shoulders, but you’re too far gone to think about anything except the taste of her, the way her body molds against yours.

You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss further, your other hand sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her closer still. The feel of her, the heat of her skin under your fingers, it’s intoxicating, and you can’t get enough. You've never allowed yourself to want someone this much. Just as you think you can't hold back any longer, Wanda's hand captures yours and guides it under her shirt. You're startled to find out she's wearing nothing underneath when your knuckles brush against her hardened nipple. That unexpected discovery is what compels you to pull back.

Wanda's lips leave yours with a wet sound, and she begins kissing down your jaw to your neck.

“Wanda, wait—”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you feel her tongue trace a line up to your pulse point, leaving a fiery trail that makes you shiver. “You can claim your reward, you can have me.”

Her words snap you out of the haze, that single word—reward—ringing in your ears like a warning bell. You quickly place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back gently but firmly.

Wanda blinks, confusion and hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” She knows she’s attractive and has already glimpsed your desire for her during your visits, reading it in your thoughts. It’s why she finds your rejection so absurd—frustrating, even, given her openness.

“I'm not here for that,” you say, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

“Then why are you here?”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, unaccustomed to openly discussing your feelings. “I came to see how you're doing after... after the scepter.”

“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.

You nod, still feeling the residual heat of her closeness. “Do you feel any different?” you ask, partly out of concern but mostly to shift the conversation elsewhere.

“I'm just tired,” Wanda says, closing her eyes and running a hand through her tousled dark hair. “Can we do this tomorrow?” She sounds a bit let down, assuming you're here just for a routine check—looking for any new powers or changes—as if she had hoped for something more personal.

“I'm sorry,” you quickly say. “I’m not here on any official orders. In fact, I shouldn't even be here.”

This revelation softens her look, her eyes narrowing slightly with renewed interest.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I'm working on getting you and Pietro out of here. It's not set yet, but—”

“Out of here?” Wanda cuts in, her eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. “Why would I want to leave?” 

“You got what you came for, right? The power of the scepter? Now you can leave. Hydra isn’t what you think,” you explain, trying to make her see the danger.

“Look who's acting all self-righteous all of a sudden. You've been here for years, and I've seen you do things,” she retorts sharply.

“Stop looking into my mind,” you snap, irritated by her knack for sifting through your thoughts without permission and using your past against you. Just because she can doesn’t mean she should.

“You’re saying I’m wrong?” she sneers.

You shake your head. “Look, I’m just trying to help—”

“If you really want to help, just do your job.”

Her words hit you harder than any physical blow could. You knew better than to let someone get this close, to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. But there’s no one to blame here but yourself. Wanda didn't even have to do much to earn your solicitude; it was your own doing, your own need to make things right that led you here. 

Hydra’s training kicks in like second nature, and you shut down the emotions before they can show, your face hardening into a mask.

“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”

-

It’s easier the second time you’re with Laura that night.

After Wanda's dismissal, you find Laura’s body to be the comfort you need. You lose yourself in her, the way she responds to every touch, every move you make. Pushing everything else from your mind, you focus solely on her, making her come again and again until she’s too bone-tired to do anything but black out beside you.

After it's over, you slip out of her bed, leaving her to sleep off the night’s weariness, and return to your room. You don't think about Wanda. Not even once.

In the following days, Wanda's recovery is swift—too swift for your level of clearance. Dr. List decides she’s beyond your oversight and assigns her to a higher clearance team. You’re left dealing with new recruits, volunteers who are eager yet naïve, none of whom survive the brutal exposure to the scepter. Each failure hardens you a little more, cements the necessity of detachment. 

But even with countless deaths on their hands, Hydra doesn't back down. If anything, they’re more driven now, hungry for more power, spurred on by the success of the twins. Pietro develops superhuman speed, a skill Hydra quickly puts to use by dispatching him to enemy territories for intel. Wanda’s abilities become more varied, showing signs of what could be categorized as psionic powers. She demonstrates capabilities that suggest telekinesis, manipulating objects without touching them, and telepathy—which she employs at her whim. 

Sometimes you wonder if she ever peeks into your mind anymore. But then, with the kind of power she wields, why would she even bother with what you're thinking? You're not special. Not even your badge, which doesn't get you into sections of the base without currying favor with Laura Brown first.

The Sokovian base is sprawling, and encounters with either of the Maximoff twins are rare but unavoidable. Pietro remembers your visit that night. Now and then, he nods at you politely. Wanda, on the other hand, acts as if you don’t exist. If you pass her in the hallways, she looks through you as if you're invisible. So, you make it a point to stay out of her way, blending into the dull walls and shadows as much as you can.

This detachment suits you in a way. It allows you to focus on your duties, on surviving one day at a time in an environment where the stakes are always high and the consequences often lethal.

It leaves you with nothing to lose, because there's no one left to lose.

-

Weeks pass quietly until rumors start floating around that Wanda's been seeing someone inside the complex. It’s hard to call it dating, really, since concepts like love and trust struggle to take root in a place as bleak as this. It’s probably just two people keeping each other company through the colder nights. Still, you can’t shake off how much this bothers you. 

But it's not surprising. The twins' popularity has only grown, especially since, months later, no one else has matched their extraordinary feat of surviving an Infinity Stone—a term you picked up only after Hydra discovered what was really behind Loki's scepter.

Sometimes, you find yourself observing Wanda from afar, trying to figure out if there’s any substance to the rumors. Who makes her laugh? Who does she choose to sit with at meals? The more you notice your own scrutiny, the more you recognize a feeling of jealousy stirring within you, an emotion that’s prevalent among your peers but not in this regard. You're bewildered and annoyed by your own reaction—why should who Wanda spends time with matter to you? Whatever she does, whoever she fucks—it's none of your business.

You hate this feeling, but you combat it by heading to Laura’s room every night, as if she’s the cure you need to keep yourself in check.

-

“They’ll betray us someday,” Lev murmurs as you both amble through the dense woods, taking a rare break from the base for a smoke. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards. You don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about the twins.

“No sooner than Hydra will throw us under the bus when the Avengers show up,” you reply, stepping around a fallen branch. “We’re all expendable. You know that, right?”

Lev takes a deep drag, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “Yeah, I know,” he says at last, releasing a plume of smoke. There’s something in his eyes, a look that tells you he’s not saying all he could about the twins.

You eye him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Lev glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's deciding how much to share. After a moment, he nods.

“Okay, I wasn't planning on telling you this yet, but I've been handed a special assignment—the Maximoff Contingency Plan,” he reveals.

You scoff at him. “You’re the contingency plan?” 

“No, not just me,” Lev chuckles darkly as he tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I'm involved, but it's more than that. We're working on a weapon, one that borrows from the tech of the Infinity Stone.”

The seriousness of what he's saying sinks in. Leveraging the power of an Infinity Stone means they're not messing around.

“And what's this weapon supposed to do?” you ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Lev’s expression darkens. “You know what weapons are supposed to do,” he says tersely, turning to head back. “Let’s go.”

Hydra does not tolerate treachery. Even the mildest punishment is a swift death—a quick end, but an end all the same.

-

It’s only a matter of time before the Avengers find the Sokovian Base. Tensions had been mounting and Hydra's movements had become increasingly aggressive, drawing unwanted attention. When it all goes down, you’re in your room, scrambling to suit up and arm yourself with pistols—not to confront the Avengers, who are essentially gods, but to fight for your way out.

As the base descends into turmoil, you hear that Wanda and Pietro are attempting to escape. Hydra has a ruthless protocol for such situations: eliminate the entire unit to prevent any leaks. It's cleaner to destroy and rebuild than to let loose ends compromise the organization. Knowing about the contingency plan to eliminate the twins, you grab your radio and contact Lev, asking where he is.

“You’re just in time. I need backup. I've got Wanda Maximoff in my sights, waiting for the right moment to take her down,” he radios back.

“On it, I’m with you,” you reply, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead as you move toward his location. When you get there, you find Lev, poised and ready, his eyes fixed on the target through the scope of his rifle. You scan the surroundings, looking for hazards until you spot Wanda among the debris. Iron Man's missiles have turned the area into a deadly maze of flying rocks. From her fingertips, streams of red magic swirl, skillfully steering the massive boulders away from crushing both Hydra agents and civilians.

Wanda isn’t trying to escape—she’s helping fend them off. Seeing her save these lives, something inside you breaks. Lev has his rifle aimed at her, ready to pull the trigger while she's busy playing the hero. The possible outcomes flash through your mind: Wanda dead or imprisoned by the Avengers. The thought is unbearable. You've spent months pretending you didn't care, but now, faced with the reality of losing her, you realize all you want is for her to live, to be free—something you've long given up for yourself.

You're about to dissuade Lev, to argue her worth, her potential, anything to stall, when an explosion nearby startles Wanda. She turns, momentarily distracted, and Lev's finger tightens on the trigger, ready to end it all.

But you're faster.

He collapses with a shocked gasp, the life leaving his eyes as he hits the ground. The noise of his body falling draws Wanda’s attention. She turns just in time to see what you've done—for her. Her eyes, wide and questioning, boring into yours.

Why did you save me? They seem to ask you, those green orbs that have hunted you ever since you looked into them. There's no time for lengthy explanations—not that you have a solid one anyway. But with each passing second, the chance of escaping undetected by these so-called superheroes dwindles.

“You need to leave, now!” you yell at her, but she doesn't budge. Instead, she looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time with something other than disdain. It’s the same look she gave you the night the scepter awakened her powers. It’s a look that tells you that maybe she’s been pretending too, these past few months.

You’re about to sprint toward her, to drag her to safety if you have to, when a blur of motion sweeps her away. Pietro appears out of nowhere, whisking them both out of the base before the Avengers close in. 

For a second, you're left standing there, surrounded by the wreckage and the friend you just betrayed and killed. There's no time to grieve, no time to second-guess leaving his body behind—it's pure instinct that forces you to move quickly. You head towards an exit known only to the most important figures of the organization, a piece of information you picked up from Laura. She wouldn’t have given it away if you weren’t frequently sleeping together, those personal liaisons caused by trying to forget Wanda.  

It’s strange, in a way, how you both just ended up saving each other.

-

Several weeks after the Avengers demolish the Sokovian base, Wanda finds you at a small cabin you own on the outskirts of Novi Grad. The modest structure sits on a 2-acre plot near the woods—a spot you picked up when your stint in Sokovia stretched past thirteen months. You never really planned on settling here; you thought you’d be moved to another location and sell this land at a profit eventually. But life, it seems, had other plans.

You’re chopping wood beside the cabin when you feel her presence. Dropping the axe, you straighten up and spot her at the edge of the clearing. Your eyes quickly sweep her surroundings for any sign of Pietro, but it appears she has come alone.

“Why did you do it?” she asks once she's close enough. You take a few moments to take her in, hardly believing she's actually here, and touched by the thought that she sought you out. You've missed her presence, even though the last few months have only found you both inhabiting the same compound, breathing the same air but never speaking. 

Sometimes, lying in bed at night, you wonder why you can’t shake Wanda from your thoughts. You’ve even entertained the idea that she might have hexed you, that her magic has somehow ensnared your mind and… maybe your heart. It seems like the only logical explanation, because since the day you met, Wanda has never really left your mind.

“I did what I thought was right,” you finally answer, tucking your hands inside your pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

“He was your friend,” Wanda points out softly. 

Your lips curl into a strained smile; of course, she’d know. She knows things about you that you'd never voice out loud. Wanda’s ability to read minds makes hiding anything impossible. Does she understand how deeply you care for her? She must. Wanda has always seen right through you, so why does she need to ask?

“Did you ever think about me after that night?” she asks out of nowhere. The night the Infinity Stone changed everything, when you were closer to her than you’d ever been before.

You're taken aback by her directness. This, too, she probably knows the answer to because you've thought of little else. 

“Everyday,” you say.

That night, you invite her to your home, the first person ever to share the space you once believed would always be just yours. Your living room is snug, with a three-seater couch and a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall. There’s also a fireplace that lights up the space with an amber glow as you hand Wanda a cup of hot chocolate.

You and Wanda find yourselves chatting about lighter topics. She shares her favorite shows from childhood, and you're surprised to learn she’s a big fan of American sitcoms. You enjoyed them too when you were younger, but not to the extent that you'd watch entire seasons over and over like Wanda did. Your preference leaned more toward books, gobbling up Agatha Christie novels when you were younger.

While you're in the middle of sharing a particularly funny memory from one of those old sitcom episodes, Wanda suddenly leans in and kisses you. Though your first instinct is to dive back into the kiss, you pull back instead. The last time you were this close, things escalated quickly before they crashed and burned.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching her eyes for an answer. Learning from past mistakes, you want to make sure it's what she really wants.

She nods, her eyes steady and invitingly dark. “I’m sure.”

You close the distance between you, kissing her to your heart’s content. Before long, clothes are discarded, and you move from the couch to the bed, leisurely exploring each other, discovering how to bring one another to new heights of pleasure. 

As you lie next to her afterward, breathless and tangled in the sheets, you realize there’s no way to pretend anymore—you care too much to go back.

-

The quiet doesn’t last long. 

Tony Stark’s experiment goes awry, giving rise to Ultron—a global threat with ambitions that soon become clear. It seeks to bring about what he perceives as peace, by any means necessary. And just when you thought you and Wanda might have found some peace, she tells you she’s joining Ultron.

“It’s too dangerous,” you tell her. The twins and a robot against the entire Avengers team? The numbers alone put the odds against them. “We can stay here, help the people around us, and actually make a real difference.”

She shakes her head, her jaw set. “You don’t get it,” she argues. “You never will. You’re not…”

Special. Go ahead, Wanda, say it. Say what you really think of me.

“...you don’t have powers. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to change things and then just stand by, powerless.”

You were bracing for it, but it hurts all the same.

“So what am I then, Wanda? Just a bystander? Someone not worth listening to because I don't have powers?”

“I’m saying I have to do this,” Wanda mutters solemnly. “I’m the only one who can do this.”

You can see in her eyes that she’s already made up her mind. You’re still racking up your brain for something that might make a difference but she speaks again.

“I’m doing this for Sokovia,” she says quietly. “For everyone who's suffered because of Stark.”

You say nothing. Her fierce loyalty is one of the things you adore about her.

Wanda steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll come back,” she promises. “When this is over, I’ll come back to you.”

You nod, resigned to the reality that you must let her go. “I’ll be here,” you say, your voice thick with regret that you can’t do more to protect her, to make sure she’s safe. “Waiting for you, right here.”

-

Pietro Maximoff dies riddled with bullet wounds—over a dozen of them. You learn the details of his death through a tabloid, days after witnessing Novi Grad being torn from the ground. 

A week later, Wanda comes back to you, just as she promised, but she’s not the same. The light in her eyes is gone, replaced by a ghostly void. It’s a look you know all too well, the same one you’ve seen staring back at you in the mirror for years.

A loss of purpose.

In the days that follow, you try to restore some normalcy, but nothing feels right. You cook meals she barely touches, sit beside her during long stretches of silence, and listen when she occasionally finds the strength to talk. It's tough, seeing her struggle, but you stay by her side, hoping things will begin to heal.

But they don’t.

Every day, you see it—the guilt, the pain, the loss. She tries to find reasons to keep going, but nothing seems to hold. And as much as you want to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this darkness, you know you're not enough. Not this time.

Wanda is adrift, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t anchor her to this life you’re trying to build. She’s lost her brother, her home, and whatever sense of justice she thought she could achieve by joining Ultron. And you—you’ve been running from your past for so long, and you’re simply tired of it.

You start thinking about what’s best for her, about what she needs to move on and find a new purpose. Deep down, you recognize that maybe the best way for her to truly heal is if you step aside.

-

Like Wanda, you don’t trust Stark. So, with the skills you’ve honed during your time with Hydra, you manage to find a way to contact Steve Rogers instead.

The conversation happens one afternoon, over a phone call. You tell him everything—your past with Hydra, the things you’ve done, and why you’re ready to turn yourself in. He listens without interrupting, letting you confess everything. You mention that Wanda's with you, and make it clear this isn't about trying to reclaim some lost sense of patriotism. You're doing it for her.

“You did the right thing by coming to me,” Steve says when you finish. “Wanda has so much potential. She deserves a chance to become who she’s meant to be.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper. You’ve known it all along, perhaps better than anyone. It’s why you’re doing this, even though it feels like tearing yourself apart.

Over the course of the conversation, you and Steve work out an agreement. You’ll serve a reduced sentence in exchange for all the intel you have on the remaining Hydra heads still out there. You’ll act as an informant, helping to bring them to an end, once and for all. And maybe, after you’ve paid your dues, there’ll be a chance for you to live something close to a normal life. When the call ends, you're washed over with a feeling of real freedom, despite knowing it might cost you Wanda all over again.

Later that night, you find Wanda in the kitchen, stirring a pot and humming a tune you don't recognize, looking more alive than she has in weeks. Seeing her like this is bittersweet; she’s here, but soon, you might not be.

She notices you and gives a small, relieved smile. “You’re back,” she says.

“Yeah, I had a craving for this specific brand of red wine…” You say, tossing out a casual lie since you did swing by the grocery store, and errands are a regular part of your routine.

“Red wine?” Wanda perks up. “Perfect, I’m just about done with dinner. It should pair nicely.”

The kitchen smells foreign but amazing, and you can't help but compliment her. “It smells incredible in here,” you say as you start setting the table. 

Wanda smiles softly as she turns down the stove and grabs a bowl to serve. You set out two wine glasses and place them on the table.

You pour a generous amount of red wine into each glass and watch as Wanda carries the meal over. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you say with genuine appreciation.

“Try it and tell me what you think,” she urges, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches you with anticipation.

You take a bite, the flavors unique and perfectly blended. Looking up, you see her watching you, eager for your reaction.

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

You laugh, then wipe the corners of your mouth with your thumb. “Don't you already know?” you tease, hinting at her telepathic abilities.

Wanda pretends to be offended, crossing her arms. “I haven’t read your mind in a long time.”

You can’t help but be a little skeptical of her claim. “Since when?”

Wanda blinks, her gaze veering away as she hesitates, clearly not eager to revisit the memory. 

You give her a gentle nudge, mimicking her earlier prodding “Well?”

Wanda turns to face you, her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout. “Since I saw you were sleeping with the director’s daughter.”

Saw? Did she see everything I did with Laura? The thought that Wanda witnessed it all like a scene playing out in front of her makes your stomach twist. You blush, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, looking away.

Wanda shakes her head, trying to dispel her lingering jealousy. “I shouldn't have been peering into your head that much to begin with,” she says softly.

Your ears catch on a particular phrase. “‘That much’?” 

It’s Wanda’s turn to blush, her cheeks flushing deeper as she quickly downs the rest of her wine and then holds out her glass for a refill. Deciding to show some mercy, you pour her another glass without prying further. The conversation stalls into an awkward silence until you finally decide to break it by giving your verdict on the dinner.

“By the way, this is delicious,” you say, adding another serving to your plate.

Wanda's face lights up, her smile stretching so wide that she looks almost like a giddy child. But then, she is young. You can’t help but imagine how she'll fit in with them. Steve, in particular, seems like he’d be good for her. Even though you don't know him well, that one phone call was enough to get a sense of his character and leadership. He seems like the kind of guy who'd really look out for Wanda, in ways you can't.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Wanda suddenly asks.

Your smile falls a little, but you manage to keep it there. You wish she could read your mind now, that she could understand the choices you’ve made today better than you could ever explain them. You’re not abandoning her—you’re setting her free from this life. You've done too many unspeakable things to ever truly deserve a quiet life with her. Eventually, your past will catch up to you, and the opportunity for Wanda to do something good might slip away if she’s still tied to you. You wish she could see how much you care for her, how much she’s changed you. Because of her, you’ve felt the desire to be good again, to be human again. To open yourself not just to grief, but also to love.

You wish—

“Maybe we can visit that lake you mentioned? I've spent my whole life in Sokovia but never really left Novi Grad,” Wanda suggests.

“Rain check?” you say, trying your best to sound like tomorrow isn’t goodbye. Steve wanted to move quickly, and you’ll be expecting him and a small squad tomorrow, no later than noon. “I’m thinking I might just stay in, catch up on some reading.”

Wanda cocks her head, a puzzled look on her face. You’ve been the one pushing her to get out of the cabin more, so your answer isn’t what she’s expecting. But she likes the idea. She just wants to spend time with you. The hole Pietro left in her heart is only bearable when she’s with you.

“Okay,” she mumbles, starting to clear the dishes. You place a hand over hers, silently telling her you’ll take care of it later. Leaning in, you plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“You want to go to bed early?” you whisper quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She looks up at you, a playful gasp escaping her lips. 

“Just to sleep,” you add quickly. I just want to hold you all night, one last time.

“I might not be sleepy right off the bat, maybe if you tire me out—”

“Naughty,” you chuckle softly, giving her nose a gentle tap.

“You love it.”

“I—” Love you. You want to say it, but you don’t want to make it harder for you both when the time comes.

Without another word, you grab her hand, holding on to this moment, to her, for as long as you can.

[notanactressyay]

— ₊˚⊹ 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐬

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . she takes her time to explore you closely, as if compensating the time she didn't notice your true needs.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — reader being needy, swearing, pet names, making out, oral, strap on, begging, possessive Nat, multiple orgasms. r receives all. soft sex. no real plot.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . just because i'm in need of a very soft Natasha to take care of me. 😣

fic started: june, 23, 2024, 11:55pm. | finished: june, 25, 2024, 11:42pm.

dividers belong to: @/anitalenia and @/rookthornesartistry ₊⊹

you weren't sleeping. your eyelids were shut, but she could tell you weren't asleep. she felt your heavy breathing, and how changed depending on her actions. under the covers, the only thing separating you both being the silk sleepwear you were in. the thin shorts rolled up whenever she shifted, and the skin to skin contact coaxed a small whimper out of you. Natasha was used to sleeping only in her lingerie, and the fact you wore babydolls didn't bother her — not at all. she could use it to her advantage. to tease you, when she felt like doing so.

the room became a hundred times hotter as she nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, emphasized by your body lotions. her palm slides under your top, pressing flat against your stomach, counting the exact amount of times you inhaled and exhaled. rapidly.

"is there a reason why you're still awake, dorogaya?" she purrs into your ear. the groan you let out, as if admitting you got caught, amuses her. you turn around in the embrace, so now you're both face to face. "no no no. let me rephrase. is there a reason why you're still awake, and letting me touch you like this?"

you sigh, hand moving up to cup her cheek. she leans against your palm, but keeps the questioning, almost teasing look up. you decide to stay silent, for a while. the reason was almost.. silly, in your point of view. but Natasha knew you. more than you knew, in more ways than you could imagine. so she took note of your response and continued with her test.

she pulls you closer, and her hand moves from your stomach to your waist, giving it a light squeeze. her fingertips are delicate against your skin. you sigh quietly, grabbing a strand of her red hair and begining to twirl it on your fingers. "i miss you."

"you miss me?" she inquires softly, eyeing you up and down. she had imagined it was something to do with that, but not that you'd stay awake at night missing her without reaching out for her.

"i mean.." you clear your throat, not knowing how to put your thoughts, desires, into words. "it's not your fault. it's just.."

it was just the fact that you missed being truly seen. taken care of. the last times you and Natasha had sex were extremely rushed, since she had to be awake early in the morning, or for whatever reason. but now that she had taken a break from missions, it could be the perfect chance for you to properly catch up.

"just tell me." the redhead demands. she leans on her ewbol, next to your head, looking down into your eyes. her hair gently falls against your face, and you tuck the locks behind her ears.

"can you.." you sigh. a timid smile tugs on your lips, your voice barely audible. "can you make love to me?

her eyes brighten up, lips parting to say something, but closing afterwards. god, imagining you saying it was something, but hearing you ask for it? her heart melted completely. the woman leans down, face close to yours. she slowly begins to pull the blankets downwards, to the end of the bed. "ask me again, baby."

"Nat," you shakily breathe and glance at her hand, heart beating faster in anticipation. "fuck me, please."

"oh, shit," she mutters to herself. for such a long time, she wanted to properly have her way with you, and the fact you took so long to ask disappointed her somehow. but it wasn't time for that.

she sits up on the bed, both hands grabbing your waist and pulling you onto her lap, so you're straddling her. the sudden action makes you gasp, which turns into a giggle as you see the sparkle in her eyes. your hands grab her shoulders, and you hold onto each other, pressed up, finally, closely. she doesn't want to talk, but makes sure her eyes passes you the message. don't ever hesitate on communicating with me again. your eyes close, enjoying her proximity, the fuzzy feeling her closeness gave you — before she grabbed your chin, and claimed your lips with hers. you almost immediately moan, returning the slow kiss.

seconds go by of your lips just being pressed against one another, so just then her tongue would slip in your mouth and dance with yours. you felt so warm, everything was warm. especially the spot between your legs. her nails graze upon your back, making you shiver and want to get rid of those clothes as soon as possible. as you pull away from the kiss, a small strand of saliva still connects you, and neither of you bother to break it.

"i'll take me time with you," her lips trail kisses down your chin, to your shoulder blade, hands tightening on your torso. "take it as an apology for not giving you what you deserve, malyshka."

"Natasha," you moan, head tilting back. you allow your weight to fall on her, body completely in her grasp, utterly hers — to do as she pleased. "i-i don't blame you.. you don't have to—"

"quietly, now," she husks out, forcing your head to look at her.

she wanted you to know you could openly tell her your desires and fantasies, she needed you to. and in case that possibly happened again — you, hiding yourself — the spy needed to know every little spot that made you moan out her name, all the ways she could make you go crazy for her. make you come so much, just to remind you all she wanted to do was make you feel good, make you satisfied.

"take those pajamas off." the redhead commands gently, tugging on the silk fabric and quickly standing up from the bed.

your breath hitches again, watching her figure leave the mattress. you oblige, pulling the top over your head, and sliding the shorts down your thighs. Natasha walked over to the closet, which was coincidentally by the window. it was late night, so the moonlight shone on her hair — the beautiful red locks falling down her back. that woman, so goddamn gorgeous. your eyes were locked on her figure as she slowly god rid of the wine-red lace underwear that once covered her. she was now nude, and purposefully showing herself to you. what couldn't get better, did — you were almost drooling now. she took the strap you most liked from the dresser's drawer, putting on herself and tightening it on her hips.

"underwear off, too, princess. do i gotta remind ya?" she smirks and walks over to you, winking. when you strip out of it, she kneels down in front of the bed and pats the end of the mattress. "c'mere."

you certainly got wetter with that. crawling over, you sat where she wanted you, feet now touching the floor. she kisses your knee, and thighs, slowly spreading them. her face slowly approached your core, eyeing you intensely.

"god, you're visibly dripping." she moans, placing her hands on your hips to pull you towards her. so, she devours you.

your head tilts back instantly. the walls feel like closing in, all the sounds suddenly dying around you and the only thing you could focus on were the sensations. Natasha's experience never showed more until now — lips slowly, but surely sucking on your clitoris, then her tongue, sliding in between your folds, going deep into you.

"mhm, fuck," your mouth parts, fingers making a makeshift ponytail of her hair to get it out of the way. your body arches forwards, meeting the thrusts of her tongue in and out you. she finds your g-spot, contently humming to herself as you moan louder. "yes, yes, don't— d-don't stop,"

that familiar feeling of a knot building inside your lower stomach starts to wash over you as long as she repeats her motions, but now, it just feels.. more. it has something else to it when the person's determined to do something. doesn't take long before your eyes squeeze hard, a gasp escaping your throat, and Natasha feels your walls clenching around her tongue.

"i'm coming, i'm, i—" you quickly mutters as you come. the russian's mouth opens wider, welcoming in your sweetness. her hands gently grab onto your ribs to contain the spasms going through your body. she smiles.

"good job," she coos, pressing a kiss to your hip and crawling upwards again. she gives you time to enjoy and recover from your first high. but it was only the start.

"feel s'good, Nat," you whimper, eyebrows furrowed as you reach out for her. seeing you like this did something to her. "more."

"you want more, don't you?" she hisses, body hovering yours. her hands grab your hips, shifting your position on the bed so that you're even more in display for her. "that's good, detka. i was just making sure you're wet enough for me to fuck you, like i really want to."

she spreads your legs once more, and without warning, lines the strap towards your entrance and shoves into your pussy with little effort. you gasp loudly, feeling sensitive but deliciously filled, after so long. Natasha takes your legs and throw them over her shoulders, allowing you to feel her deeper and deeper, allowing her own body to press up against yours — hard nipples rubbing against themselves, sweaty skins gliding on each other. she gasps as well, feeling more connected to you than ever. she wondered, how good it would be to actually feel your cunt clench around her. that drove her wild. the silicone material drags up across your walls, just to completely slam in again, hips slapping soundly.

"please, oh, my goodness," you mutter, grabbing onto Natasha's arms tightly, keeping her close. her body rubbed against yours with each thrust, and you both still felt like it wasn't enough. "i fucking love you,"

"i love you so, so much, krasivaya," she huskily manages, breathing rapidly and squeezing your body with all her might. "so beautiful taking all of me."

you're barely aware of what you're doing as your hands caress up her back, shoulders and neck, savouring the feeling of her skin, and the little scars that painted the canvas of her body. the fake cock snugly brushes over and over in you, it gets hard to hold back the moans you let out in Natasha's ear. she pounds into you quickly, surprisingly finding somewhere else which made you cry out.

"oh, please, Nat," you beg, back arching off the bed. your hands slid down her hips, giving her rear a squeeze, encouraging her to go faster. "right there. right fucking there."

"so eager." she hums, continuously hitting where you wanted, before you couldn't take it anymore. your legs shook as another heavenly pleasure consumed you, an almost embarrassing moan coming out of you.

"Natasha~" your head fell back against the pillow, nails scratching her back, cum soaking the length of the toy.

your eyes stayed close for a long while — you weren't even sure how long, just when she started with slow thrusts, that eventually quieted down, and the before you knew, her head was resting right above your heart. weakly, she pulls out of you and sets the toy aside to be cleaned later.

"feeling better, baby?" she murmurs. you smile softly, satisfied. you don't speak yet. she sees your expression of bliss, and that was enough for her. "promise me you wont hide your desires from me anymore?"

you breathlessly sigh, and nod. "i promise,"

she cuddles up against you and brings you to the top of the bed with her, properly laying down on the pillows. the blankets were probably on the other corner of the world right now, but you were both too warm still, so they weren't needed.

"thank you, Nat," you murmur, curling yourself up into her. her hand cradles the back of your head, feeling your messy, tangled hair.

"always, my girl." Natasha gives your lips a final peck, and don't say anything else, nor do.

you both relaxed, but the most important, you felt cared, loved. it was undescribable how glad you were for having that woman in your life, in all aspects.

[the-voice-beckons-below]

the end of the (red) line

bucky barnes x steve rogers x gn! reader

synopsis: red string au, in which a thread, invisible to others, tangles you and your soulmate together. you’ve been waiting a long time to meet the person at the other end, the problem is, they keep damaging the thread, leaving you unable to track them down.

warnings: angst (it’s a fic involving bucky, it’s to be expected), fluff, reader is down bad, mentions of death, self loathing, reader is technically an orphan (blame new york not me), big muscly super soldiers !! reader is confident!

word count : 2,928

this whole red string business had cost you many nights of sleep. all your friends had been lucky, bumping into their supposed soulmate in a store or cafe, or getting a new job and seeing a prominent string dangling from their coworker’s fingers.

see, it isn’t visible at all times, which is arguably less and equally more frustrating. there’s only certain times you can follow it, or tug on it if you’re impatient. there’s a possibility you walk past your fately betrothed and you’ll miss them, because the universe decides you’re not ready.

it’s been five years since it first showed up, looped around your fingers snuggly. it happened after a nightmare, which were all too common. witnessing the attack on new york first hand had been devastating, bodies upon bodies. screams and cries and families torn apart, including your own.

it was just you now, scattered in the vast expanse of the world like a drop in the ocean. friends were distractions, only so much could tackle the constant ebbing and aching deep within your chest. tucked away so far that it was normal, like it had always been there.

it was at a bar when the familiar red showed up, and in frustration, you yanked hard. standing up from the booth with your friends and determinedly walking to try once more. the bond was fickle, or maybe, it was just yours specifically. seemingly disappearing each time some ground was made, like someone had purposely cut it.

you learnt to be fast, coiling the thread and pacing swiftly. weaving through crowded streets on a winter’s eve, eyes narrowed and scrutinising. your lips dried at the cold air, and a small voice reminded you that the jacket you’d been wearing was still slumped in the bar’s booth. was it worth it? getting cold and also getting a dead end?

the trail never seemed to end, with each tug and pull, there was no resistance. leaving a yarn-like pile puddled at your feet. it could’ve been the frustration or exasperation that triggered the next moment, gripping onto the thin crimson and jerking it with every ounce of might you had.

it wasn’t noticeable at first, but steadily a burning littered your palms. for the very first time, you’d gotten rope burn from wrenching the thread.

there was also a man who was distinctively dishevelled, like he’d been displaced.

he was littered in crimson.

not only was it looped around him, it also continued from him. which was just too much to comprehend at the given moment, was it possible to be attached to multiple people?

the man whipped his head up, almost like he’d been shocked, and belatedly met eyes with you. locking with a shudder, his gaze was almost frantic.

at the same time, you both spoke, your voice edging on angry and confused. while the stranger’s seemed unbelievably stunned.

“you!”

in all years of imagining your future partner, you’d never expected them to be so…unfairly attractive. adorned with dull blonde locks, a sharp jaw and icy blue eyes that held a depth you hadn’t prepared for. he was tall, and built, gods he could crush you.

it almost cooled the anger in your veins.

“why did you keep cutting me off?” you snapped, fists clenching from anxiety this time. had they seen you before and decided you weren’t enough? could you be enough? why wait all this time? why sever the connection over and over?

“what?” he breathed, the air in his lungs fled. the blonde’s train of thought was completely dismantled, a flicker of hurt and confusion flooded his face. “that - that wasn’t you?”

steve still remembers when it appeared. just after his major transformation from frail to superhuman. the sight caused him to stutter, whole body feeling just as weak as he was before. immediately he’d gone to find peggy, hoping it was her, she was breathtaking. first woman to see him as someone, and who looked at him with a hint of softness that he melted for each time.

and he still remembers the way his heart had plummeted upon finding out his newly acquired string was not attached to peggy. it shattered a part of him, he’d never felt like this with anyone before, and yet peggy wasn’t the one. her bold lipstick would not litter his cheeks or lips, her soft yet strong hands would not rest in his own.

it was confusing.

but what was truly heartbreaking was finding out who it was attached to.

after rescuing bucky from hydra and finally having his best friend back, steve thought maybe it would be okay not to know the person on the other side of the string. him and buck would be alright if they had each other, his fondest and happiest of memories included barnes.

on that train, time stopped. bucky dangling from a scrap of metal, steel eyes terrified and begging for steve to haul him back up.

he couldn’t reach him. he tried, god he tried.

the worst part of it all had been seeing glimmering thread falling into the snow with his best friend. he’d found and lost his soulmate - best friend, at the exact same time. it was a good thing to have crashed that jet into the ice, he was content with it. knowing if there was an afterlife, buck would be there with open arms.

but that’s just not how it went.

instead he woke up from a presumably deadly sleep.

all he had ever known was gone, apart from peggy, who after a little while, was gone too.

thread was still attached to him, he felt it, it was heavy, dragging him down in what felt like every step. the weight was there, but he didn’t see it.

not until a masked assassin stood in his path, mask strewn across concrete. his beautiful bucky was alive, and almost unrecognisable with the torment that surrounded him.

he cried that night.

eventually, after he fought through what felt like hell, he’d pulled bucky back from the torturous programming he’d been under. they’d come to realise that their thread, ignited since the 40’s had changed, it went in another direction.

“multiple soulmates huh?” buck realised, if steve was observant enough, he would’ve seen the defeat in his former best friend’s (now lover’s) language.

“i don’t think it will be a bad thing, it’s, exciting.”

bucky’s bit his lip, “maybe.”

it had taken years to let steve in again. he was on edge all of the time, was real panicky too. spent so much time locked in his room, and went between eating so much his stomach hurt and not having an appetite at all. it felt undeserving to have what he wanted, to have a soulmate, to be potentially happy after what he’d done.

the lives he’d taken.

the guilt had crushed him, and the self hatred never dulled. he didn’t deserve steve, he was too good. too sweet, too soft. too, steve.

when it became clear that someone else was out there, linked to steve and him, he panicked. it had been hard enough coming to terms that steve didn’t hate him, didn’t blame him. no one else could get close, what if he hurt them? what if they took steve?

what if this string thing didn’t work out all the time? everything was fine with steve. he felt safer than ever, with a calm so alien to him.

it wasn’t purposeful, but whenever the other string popped up, every time he went to touch it, it frayed. like the bond didn’t want him.

time after time it dissolved after bucky touched it, no matter how gentle or rough, it vanished. it was humiliating. after a while he just swiped at it whenever it did reappear, wanting it gone. it was just there to insult him. of course it would fray when he touched it, it was naive of him to think that a killer, someone drenched in the blood of others, could be wanted.

steve would disagree of course.

steve loved him with every fibre of his being, so fiercely it was near startling. it was more than he deserved. every embrace was simultaneously his oxygen and his undoing.

captain america was righteous, strong. believed in bucky and nursed him back to ‘health’ as much as he could. rogers was more than a tight suit and a impenetrable shield. he was everything.

he knew that steve was searching for their other, other half. knew that he was excited to meet them, wanted to show bucky that it would be a good thing. steve hadn’t accounted for one thing, bucky’s fear.

bucky was internally petrified of losing his everything.

he swiped at the string over and over, and the guilt was way lesser than the fear.

the name you’d gotten was steve, which you knew from the moment his trademarked straw hair and ocean eyes filled your vision, you’d quickly texted your friends not to worry.

followed string, please hold onto that jacket, it’s my favourite. i’ll be sad if you lose it :(

he had ordered two coffees, “this may take a while.” the man wrung his hands nervously, it was mildly comforting to know you weren’t the only one with a pounding heart and a sweaty brow.

“you’re different than i thought you’d be.” it had come out in a splutter, scrounging for a conversation, it would be embarrassing to confess you just wanted to hear him talk more.

the raise in his brow only made your heart thud faster, eyes becoming half amused and half apprehensive. “how so? i’m sorry if uh, don’t cut it.”

you had practically interrupted him, “no - you’re just, i mean for one you’re captain america. makes sense why i couldn’t find you, you’ve probably been all over the place.” after years of pondering about your soulmate, finally coming face to face with one of them was exhilarating and overwhelming. and you couldn’t stop talking, spilling too many words. it was a wonder that he kept up. “and secondly, you cut it, how you look is borderline unfair to the general public.”

you had caught him off guard, and his laugh, it came from his chest. deep, rich and warm. “fighting takes you all over. i’m glad - that i cut it. been worrying that you were making it disappear, that you didn’t want to see me - us.”

mid sip, you halted. he drank his own coffee with a small smile. “you uh, know the other one?”

his lips quirked up more, a fondness shining in his pupils, “you could say that.” steve cleared his throat, thumbing the handle of the coffee cup, “i’ve known him my whole life,” he hesitated, “his name is bucky.”

everyone who’d paid attention to the news was aware who this ‘bucky’ was. captain america’s best friend who was taken in by hydra and brainwashed so severely he’d lost himself along the way, who was used as a weapon for a long, long time.

steve was prepared for a bad reaction, people weren’t always understanding when it came to buck. more often than not, they’d call him a killer or become uncomfortable. it made him incredibly protective, and he struggled to stay present in a conversation after judging bucky so poorly.

“you don’t need to be on edge you know.” you spoke, spotting the super soldier’s tense posture. “i know who he is,” you started carefully, sweeping across the expanse of steve’s face, “and anyone with a brain knows what happened to him, is not his fault.”

steve inhaled with a shaky, but relieved breath. “thank yo-“

“you don’t need to,” you cut in, “i’ve been waiting for years, for you, for you both technically.” a blush quickly swarmed your cheeks, and you broke the eye contact between the two of you. the rest of the sentence was silent, but steve would’ve decoded it as: i don’t give up so easily.

being connected by fate to one extremely attractive man was already hard to grasp. but two of them? it was almost sending you to an early grave. it was easy to see just from a small interaction that steve was sweet, protective, handsome and you were bound to him.

“he’s a tough nut to crack.” a part of you laughed at the innuendo, but outwardly, just managed to keep it in. “he’s probably worried, said i’d be back by 5, always make sure im never late.”

“trying to escape already?” you teased, before asking for his number. he fumbled around with his phone, shaking his head at your question. it was slightly endearing how steve’s fingers shook as he pulled up his contact details. despite the pair of you trying to appear confident, you were equally as nervous and giddy.

as soon as you finished inputting the information, the door to the cafe dinged, and in walked the reincarnation of sin itself. brown messy hair and the most hypnotising steel irises. red thread wrapped around the metal of his arm beautifully. you sucked in a breath, not out of fear of who bucky was, but the dawning realisation you were linked with perhaps the prettiest men on earth.

his face was hard set, pulled taut and serious. clinically, and methodically, he swept over the cafe until he found his target. the tension from the man visibly eased, enough so that he didn’t even clock the person sitting across from steve. who, if he had noticed, was staring at him unashamedly.

“it’s 6, you’re never late.” bucky narrowed his stare pointedly, quickly checking to see if steve was perhaps held back by an injury. when he found nothing, he almost looked offended.

steve’s lids fluttered at the timbre of his partners voice greeting him, “mhm.” amusement quickly overcame his expression, “well, i was busy.”

“busy with what?” bucky almost growled, frowning at the pleased glint present in steve’s pupils, and how his partner seemed smug. he was happy about not coming home? he’d been waiting at home like a damn dog, until noticing the string and following it to steve like he was on a mission. steve shifted to look at you, and couldn’t help the smile that burst from him. oh you were perfect. not afraid or judgmental of bucky at all, you instead looked all but ready to devour the ex assassin.

at steve’s silence, and sudden interest looking at something else, bucky cranked his head to the side. all words dying on his tongue the second he caught onto you, the string cocooning you and your ecstatic half crinkled eyes. “oh.”

“oh.” steve echoed with a poorly hidden smirk, anxiety tugging at his chest, waiting to see how bucky would react. it all depended on this moment.

it was basically a staring contest with the amount of eye contact between the two of you. it was like bucky was searching for something within you, trying to dig into your core and assess what laid there. “this is an acceptable reason for being late.” and with that, he turned away.

steve sighed exasperated, “i’m sorry for him, that, that was rude buck.” back in the 40’s bucky was an unrivalled gentleman, polite to women and men alike. he was guarded, too much so. steve had desperately wanted to forge a connection with their third partner, and didn’t expect bucky to seem almost against it.

“don’t apologise for me.” he withheld a small scowl, flicking back and forth between steve and you. it didnt deter you, rationally maybe it should have, but you waited 5 years. you’d be damned if you gave up on the first hurdle. steve had said he was a ‘tough nut to crack’, so cracked he would be.

“it’s alright,” you waved steve’s concern off, “it’s good to meet you, years of waiting was worth it.” you raised your hand expectantly, bucky hesitated, until stubbornly wrapping his metal fingers around your flesh ones. the lack of alarm or fright from touching the metal limb had him faltering.

you truly weren’t affected by him or the history and baggage he carried.

with a confidence you weren’t sure you had, you leant closer, heart hammering at a speed that felt dangerous. slowly, and tentatively, you placed a tender kiss upon the back of the silver hand. bucky’s reaction was a sucked in breath and a sharp twitch in the prosthetic limb. it was almost as if he’d felt the sensation coursing through him. “i am sorry for keeping your partner, do forgive me.”

“i’ll think about it.” his stoic facade was ruined by the smallest lopsided lift of his lips. all three of you had trouble slowing your pulses, all frantic and strangled by adrenaline. “here again, tomorrow at 2.” he all but demanded, pulling away and walking towards steve.

“bucky! you can’t just - buck!” the blonde groaned, jumping at bucky interlinking their hands and dragging him away. before he was completely swept, steve fumbled through his wallet and laid money on the table for the coffees, “i hope tomorrow at 2 is convenient.”

“i’ll think about it.” you replied, slyly laughing at steve before he disappeared through the glass cafe door.

there was no doubt about it, they would cram into every space hidden within your head, without any resistance. one interaction with them both, and you were a goner.

you leant into your hands, muffling the borderline painful grin painted on your face. after a moment, you turned on your phone, sending the fastest text.

you are never going to believe this, i’m coming back for my jacket, and for drinks.

your index hovered over the new contact in your phone, and before you could think it through, you typed away.

you both cut it ps. do you or bucky want flowers or chocolates?

a/n: so i started this fic today, and it was meant to be a very short one, more of a drabble than anything. i’ve become more attached than initially expected, and it became a longer fic. divider credits are me just in case anyone was about to ask about them, i might post them!! i think i need some more to do a batch though.

i don’t normally see more confident readers/a mix of flustered and confident, and i’m not sure how well received it will be because of that. i hope there’s people that can appreciate a cheeky hand kiss and a little bit of flustered steve and bucky. reader would spoil them both, gifts and open affection, would be so supportive and protective, steve and bucky would end up so possessive of them in return.

i hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it !! merry early christmas <33

[havensins]

Sucking off Miguel in his chair while anyone can walk in and see their stoic hothead leader moaning and whimpering

i can just imagine this now 😵‍💫! kneeling under miguel’s desk, spreading his legs wide apart and teasing the supple skin of his thighs. “do something, please?” he’d ask, hands balled up into fists on the arms of his chair.

wrapping a hand around his cock, you let your thumb tease his steadily leaking tip. “you know you gotta be specific, my love.” you murmur to him, kissing his tip and letting his precum stain your lips.

he inhales sharply, relaxing into his chair. “want you to suck me off… make me cum please?” he asks and you smile against his thigh. miguel sure knew how to beg. “whatever you want,” you murmur, finally wrapping your lips around his cock.

and miguel just fucking melts and whimpers and wail. he’s incredibly pretty under your hold; every ounce of tension leaving his body as he lets you take care of him. at first, he was worried about how loud he could get but now.. his brain was starting to get foggy in the special way that drained him of all the care in the world.

[cherri-redd]

Wanda: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Y/N: Wow. They sound stupid.

Wanda: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense.

Y/N: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Wanda: I guess you’re right. Hey Y/N, I love you.

Y/N: See! Just say that!

Wanda: Holy fucking shit.

Y/N: If that flies over their head then, sorry Wanda, but they're too dumb for you.

Wanda: Y/N.

[kyotosworld]

games

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

summary: you & nat were meant to be working on a project but instead find yourselves intertwined in her bed

warnings: suggestiveness, language

you were sitting beside natasha, on her bed with study sheets spread out in front of you. you two were in her dorm room with plans of working on a project together…but as usual, you got distracted.

and instead of trying to refocus, you chose to play a game, trying to see who could make the other laugh first.

you’re currently bent over the edge of her bed, barely breathing as you try your hardest to hold in your laugh, and try even harder not to look at natasha.

because you know that if you do, you’re done for. because for whatever reason, looking at someone while trying not to laugh just makes it harder.

she’s facing you, while rocking a very bad poker face. “Look at me, come on,” she says in a strained, trying-not-to-laugh, voice while her arms are motioning towards her.

and you feel like you have to look up, forgetting about the game for a second, and only thinking about doing whatever natasha wants.

when you do look at her and remember the game you’re playing, you let out a surprise laugh at your own stupidity, before trying to cover it up with a cough.

“hey! that was a laugh!” natasha exclaims, pointing her index finger at you and leaning toward you accusingly. wearing the biggest, most accomplished smile on her face.

you of course deny it because, “that’s not fair, your face is just very funny to look at!”

“hey!” natasha says in faux sadness before joining you in your laughter.

“now, that’s a laugh.” you try to accuse her.

“no, you laughed first!” she demands while playfully shoving you, “stop trying to cheat.”

“i’m not-”

all of a sudden, natasha pushes you over so that you’re laying flat on the bed with her on top of you. straddling your waist while holding your hands against the bed.

“admit you cheated or i won’t get off of you.” she teases.

but you’re frozen with your eyes wide and all you can think is: is that a threat or a promise?

she raises her eyebrow at your silence and just as you open your mouth to reply, suddenly her room door is clicking open. and you both turn to see nat’s roommate, valkyrie walks in with her friend carol.

“ew they’re fucking! let’s leave.” she says before pulling carol and closing the door on their way out.

it’s when they’re gone that natasha finally seems to notice your position, turns beet red and let’s go of you hands.

sitting up now, but still straddling you 🫦 before saying, “sorry,” and getting off of you.

“it’s okay…” you reply shyly. both of you avoiding eye contact.

finally nat breaks the tension filled silence in realization, “omg, we’re never gonna live that down.”

“nope.”

[talesofely]

The (Wo)Man Who Can't Be Moved

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x GN/Fem!Reader

Summary : Natasha's your ex-girlfriend, she broke up with you without giving you a solid reason as to why. Obviously, you want her back. One problem, she's unofficially dating Bucky Barnes. So you decided to solve it with a little performance.

Warnings : Angst, Fluff, Hopeful Ending (?), Swearing I think, reader is mostly gender neutral but i envisioned it as a fem!reader soooo, pls tell me if u see anything else

Note : I rlly wanna make a part 2 of this, lmk what u guys think thooo

Word Count : almost 2k

Save My Tears - Part 2

Tony decided to host another one of his famous Stark parties. This time, his excuse was that you are single again, and that Natasha and Bucky had something going on. What he didn't know was you and Natasha didn't quite end in good terms, cause she broke up with you. And of course... that you still miss her so god damn much.

So there you were, in your room, mentally preparing yourself to see the love of your life with her soon to be boyfriend. You didn't want to go, you absolutely wanted to just run away. But you couldn't. You had to show that the break up didn't affect you as much as they thought it did, even if it really did.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Come in." The door opened and revealed a redhead. You smiled sadly at the woman, it wasn't your redhead. It was Vision's.

"I told you I'm fine, Wands." You tried your best to give her a genuine chuckle. Wanda didn't seem to be convinced though.

"You look good, L/N. Trying to impress somebody?" Wanda said as she leaned against the closed door of your room.

"You already know the answer to that." You said as you shook your head, standing up to apply perfume.

"Just tell her, Y/N/N. I mean, you should shoot your shot before it's too late. I heard Buck's gonna ask her to be his girlfriend officially tonight." Wanda announced, watching you intently as you try desperately to calm your nerves.

"What am I supposed to say, Wands? Please take me back, I miss you so much, I know you broke up with me but I want you back?" You sarcastically said as you scoffed. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin what she has with Bucky. She must like him so much if she made their relationship public within three days of seeing each other."

"She isn't happy with him, and we both know that. I care about Natasha too, Y/N, I want her to be atleast happy with who she's with. Plus, how can you know she doesn't want you back if you haven't even asked?" Wanda asked with a raised brow. You didn't dare to make eye contact, just staring at the perfume bottle on your hand. "Think about it, alright?"

Wanda left your room, leaving you alone with more thoughts than you had 30 minutes ago.

Stark decided to go to the next level for this party. He had a stage in the middle of the living room, a bunch of speakers, and a mic stand.

The party was more lively than normal. Everyone was teasing the future couple, much to your annoyance. Natasha and Bucky were the center of attention.

Apparently, Bucky loves getting all that recognition and attention, but deep down you know Natasha doesn't. Your ex-girlfriend loves parties, but she doesn't like it when she's the center of attention. Bucky doesn't seem to know it considering he's showing her off like she's just a trophy.

You sat at the bar, alone, drinking your Aunt Roberta cocktail. Clint approached you, Tony right behind him. You didn't acknowledge them, just continuing to watch the 'It Couple' as Tony calls them.

"You okay, Y/n?" Clint asked with a small smile. You're guessing he didn't know what happened, you didn't know if Natasha told him how she broke your heart. You just nodded in response, drinking down the last of your cocktail.

"They're such a nice couple, right? Natasha and Bucky? I'm not glad you and Nat broke up but I'm glad they found each other." Tony said with a grin, oblivious to the fact that you want to punch him in the face.

"Mhm." You responded with another nod. You couldn't do this sober, but the alcohol wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Y/N, you should sing! You have a great voice, right!? You used to sing for Natasha when you were still together!" Tony slurred out, obviously intoxicated now. Clint nodded in agreement, both trying to convince you to sing.

You didn't want to, you weren't in the right mood to put on a show.

However, when your eyes drift to Natasha and Bucky slow dancing to your song, 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric Clapton, the same song you two always danced to, you snapped.

You cleared your throat to steal Tony and Clint's attention. You stood up and fixed your suit's jacket. The polo you were wearing underneath had three buttons unbuttoned, showing just enough for men and women to go wild.

"I'll go sing, Anthony. The tablet beside the mic is connected to the speakers, right?" You asked as Tony nodded eagerly. He always liked it when you sang, saying you had a specific vibe he couldn't get from other singers.

Before you could fully walk away, Clint shouted at you, making you turn around and raise a brow at him.

"Go get your girl back." He mouthed then winked. You rolled your eyes at him before flipping him off.

When you reached the stage, Steve got off and handed you the mic with a smile. You sat down on the chair, everyone was surprisingly cheering for you. Mostly everyone's eyes were on you, excited for the song you were about to play.

You didn't dare to look into the audience, in fear of meeting those green eyes you used to call home. The fondness in them wasn't for you anymore, anyways.

"Hey, everyone. I hope y'all are having an amazing night. I do hope you enjoy these songs I'm about to play." You said as you clicked the instrumental version of the song you chose, on the tablet.

Going back to the corner where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand

Saying, "If you see this girl can you tell her where I am?"

(Italics are flashbacks)

Three days after Natasha broke up with you, you decided to drive to a park where you two always went on. You sat on the exact bench where you asked her to be your girlfriend. Not a lot of people walked by, it was a slightly secluded area.

You stared at the lake in front of you, watching as the ducks you always used to feed with Natasha swim towards you. One duck in particular, the one you named Nibbles, the one you considered your child, approached you and stood on your foot.

You smiled sadly at him, caressing his fluffy head.

"Hi, Nibbles. Your mama isn't here, I'm sorry. We won't show up together anymore, buddy. I still promise to visit, okay?"

People were giving you weird looks but you didn't care. You just gave the duck a piece of bread that he dipped in the lake before waddling back to you so he could eat it beside you.

And how can I move on when I'm still in love with you?

You met those green eyes while singing the particular line. You couldn't read it, it had too many emotions for you to decipher. You saw her smile faltered though. You gave her a small bittersweet smile as everyone around you was singing along to the song and nodding their heads to the beat.

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be

"Where the fuck is Y/N, Wanda?" Natasha asked, barging in the younger redhead's room.

Wanda's head snapped to her door. She saw Natasha was holding the letter you left in her room over and over again, memorizing every sentence. A few tears escaped, but she immediately wiped them away. She saw how the 'Love Always, Y/N.' was smudged, like it got wet from a teardrop.

"What do you mean, Natasha? I thought you knew she left. She's gone, Nat. She left for a no-contact mission, even Fury doesn't know when she'll be back." Wanda said flatly, standing up to kick Natasha out of her room.

"Why'd you care anyways? Miss her?" Wanda said sarcastically with an eye roll.

"She didn't tell me." Natasha murmured, stepping out of the room.

"Why would she? You broke up with her, remember?" With that, Wanda closed the door to her room, making sure to lock it.

Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet

And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street

You walked around the park, even walking the streets where you two would 'window shop' but you end up buying her everything she looks at. Your feet stopped when you saw the familiar ice cream parlor on the corner of the street.

You remember taking her there on your first half-anniversary, right after you two finished a mission. The mission was rough, it didn't physically hurt any of you but it did take a toll on your mental states. You wanted to cheer her up and distract her so you made up an occasion to convince her to go eat ice cream.

Policeman says, "Son, you can't stay here"

I said, "There's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year.

Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows

If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go"

Your eyes met Steve's and he gave you a small smile. He remembers it too.

It was your first winter without Natasha. You were sitting on a swing in the park right in front of the compound. No one else was there except you cause it was cold and snowing really hard.

You felt someone sit on the swing beside you. It was Steve. He gave you a small comforting smile, nodding his head to greet you.

"You can't stay here all night, Y/N. It's cold, you should come in." He said in a low voice, trying to stay as casual as possible.

"I'm fine." You said, giving him an unconvincing smile.

"You're still waiting for her?" He asked. You looked at him but he was staring ahead.

You nodded timidly. "Always."

There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world

"You're my world, Natasha." You murmured into her hair. You were cuddling in bed, her head on your chest.

She looked up at you, her ethereal green eyes staring up at you, filled with adoration. She smiled, that same smile that never fails to make your heart flutter no matter how many times you've seen it.

"I love you, детка." She whispered as you leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips.

"I love you more, my Natalia."

Going back to the corner where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

When the last note ended, some were clapping, some were silent and looking at you in worry. You furrowed your brows, realizing a tear was currently rolling down your cheek.

You saw Clint giving you two thumbs up while Wanda was smiling sadly at you. You tried looking for your redhead, but you couldn't see her anywhere. Even Bucky wasn't there.

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your emotions. Did they leave together? Were they currently having the time of their life in Natasha's bedroom? Did Natasha bring Bucky to the rooftop like you two used to? Why did she leave?

You sighed and decided that you're going to take her absence as an answer to all your questions.

She moved on.

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

*Wanda walks into a room excited*

Wanda: hey guys! Did you know if you heat up a knife enough you can cut a loaf of bread and have instant toast!

Tony: imagine stabbing someone with that!

Natasha: well the knife would burn through the nerve receptors so it wouldn't be very effective.

Y/n: *cuddle up against Natasha* it's effective if you want information.

Wanda: why do that when you can have toast!? 😟

[jiyascepter]

Congrats on 1k followers!!!

It's totally fine if it doesn't inspire you but here's a song lyric for Bucky or Loki (author's choice!)

"All this time I was finding myself while I didn't know I was lost."

Found You

MASTERLIST The Tunes & Tales Collection (Masterlist Soon!)

Pairing: Loki x gn!reader

Words: 940

Requested by: @ijuststareatstuffhereok89

Prompt: -> "All this time I was finding myself while I didn't know I was lost."

Warnings/Content: pure fluff; cuddly loki, cozy setting, established relationship, lots of kisses ♡

Summary: Loki and you find solace and deep connection in your fleeting time together.

A/n: Thank you soo much for the request @ijuststareatstuffhereok89! It means so much that you requested because you're such a talented writer yourself!! Big fan here !! Hope this oneshot meets your expectations 💖

The summer rain was tapping softly against the windows of the cozy apartment you and Loki shared. The once bright and warm day had given way to a cool, gray ambiance that made the inside feel snug and inviting.

The scent of rain was mingling with the faint, lingering aroma of the lunch you had prepared and enjoyed together.

You were standing at the kitchen sink, the sound of running water blending with the rain outside as you washed the lunch utensils.

The soft light from the overcast sky filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow over the kitchen.

The air was pleasantly cool, a refreshing change from the usual summer heat, making the whole place feel like a comfortable haven.

As you were working, you felt Loki’s presence from your bedroom emerging. The God had come to stay with you, seeking refuge from the burdens of his past and the expectations that came with his Asgardian heritage.

He had needed a break from the relentless demands of his princely duties and the complex relationship with his family.

Here, in your small apartment, he found solace and a sense of normalcy he had never known, with you.

However, the reality of his situation was never far.. Loki was a prince of Asgard, and his time on Earth was always going to be temporary.

The day he would have to return was approaching, and you both knew it. But for now, you were determined to make the most of the time you had together.

“Hey,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder while you work. “Hey yourself,” you say with a chuckle, nudging him with your elbow away playfully.

“We’re not playing that game again, darling,” he says and wraps his arms around your waist again, tighter than before. You could feel his breath on your neck, making a cold shiver run down your body.

“Loki,” you murmur with a smile, pausing your task as you lean back into his embrace.

He smiles against you and uses his telekinetic abilities to put away the bowl you were washing. “How about you leave this task for later?”

You sigh playfully and pick the bowl again, “I have only a few left to do,” you reply, though you really wanted to melt under his touch.

Loki's grip tightens ever so slightly as he places a soft kiss on the side of your neck. “You’re getting a break, we’ll do this together later” and before you could protest, he picked you up in a bridal carry to your bedroom, where you could see the rain repeatedly beat against the glass window more properly, the lights of the skyscrapers blurring from the water.

Carrying you effortlessly, Loki made his way back to the bedroom, placing a kiss here and there on your face while you giggled from the tickles.

Who knew the man who hated being vulnerable would find such joy in simple domestic moments?

He gently laid you down on the bed, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to his warm embrace.

Loki leaned over you, his eyes finding yours when he kissed your forehead softly then laid next to you, wrapping his arms around your body.

He noticed your silence, shifting closer to you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You smile and nod, taking one of his hands to fiddle with his fingers, “just thinking..” He looked at you playing with his fingers then at your face, “about what?”

You hesitate, sighing. “About everything. About how much has changed.”

Loki’s eyes soften, then cups one of your cheeks and tilts your face up at him to meet his blue eyes. “I know what you mean. All this time, I was finding myself, without even realizing I was lost.”

You turn your hand over, threading your fingers through his. “But look at you now. You’re not anymore, are you?”

He smiles, a rare and beautiful sight that you cherished every time. “No, because I found you.”

He takes your hand and places a few appreciative kisses on your knuckles. You chuckle and pull the covers on you both more cozily, nuzzle against each other. “Stay here Loki.”

He raises an eyebrow and looks at you,”Hm? What was that?”

“Stay here for a bit longer with me,” you notice how needy you sounded at that and blush, “please?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing softly in the quiet intimacy of the room. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your hand, a reassuring touch that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

"I thought you'd never ask," Loki murmurs, his voice carrying a warmth that melts away any lingering doubts. You shift closer, wrapping your arms around him as if to shield him from the uncertainties of the outside world.

He notices the shift in your position. "Darling," he whispers, his breath brushing against your ear, "for you, I would stay forever if I could."

You smile in relief, feeling his warmth and reassurance. Snuggling closer into his embrace, you breathe in his familiar scent, savoring the quiet moment together.

The soft patter of rain outside continues its soothing rhythm, cocooning you both in a tranquil haven.

“I'm so glad I found you,” he whispers, pressing another tender kiss against your forehead, “'cause you helped me find myself.”

“Just don't go,” you say desperately clinging to his warm body under the covers.

“I won't sweetheart.” He smiles down at you.

With that promise hanging in the air, you let yourself relax fully into his arms, both of you drifting in a deep slumber in the cozy covers.

┈➤ Loki Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[lives-in-midgard]

Y/N: Hey, Bucky. Do you know what day it is tomorrow?

Bucky: Hey, doll. It was the day that we met.

Y/N: Omg, you really remember.

Bucky: Of course I do. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

[librababe99]

Welcome to my Blog!

(Updated: November 10th 2024)

Hi everyone! My name is Veronica₊˚⊹♡.

❥・I'm 25 years old ❥・She/Her pronouns ❥・I'm currently a graduate student working towards my Masters of Public Health degree

Minors please DO NOT interact-- this is strictly an 18+ blog*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Interests:

❥・Marvel Universe ❥・DC Universe ❥・The Boys ❥・The Last of Us ❥・Jack Reacher (TV series)

Characters I will write for:

Logan Howlett, Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, Wade Wilson, Young!Erik Lensherr, Young! Charles Xavier, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Billy Butcher, Hughie Campbell, Solider Boy, Homelander, Joel Miller, Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson's version), John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Gerrick, König

Requests are Open ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Feel free to send a request through my "ask" button or send me a direct message! ❥・I write "character x reader" fics (no use of Y/N here) ❥・Gender Neutral reader or Female Reader is what I lean towards ❥・I will write smut, fluff and angst ❥・One shots, headcannons, longer stories, series, etc

Masterlists

❥・Marvel Masterlist

❥・DC MasterList

❥・Answered Asks and Drabbles

[notanactressyay]

— ༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . Natasha always patched herself up. she never even allowed anyone near when she's hurt. you, on the other hand, made her a bandage and even discovered a little more about who she was.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . implied violence, bullet wounds, blood, bruises, talks of the red room, cursing, emotional moments, caring for baby Natasha.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . finishing that a year later. yup, that's me. but that's just too special for me to drop it.

fic started: july, 08, 2023, 1:06pm. | finished: june, 23, 2024, 9:29pm.

dividers belong to: @saradika-graphics — ₊⊹

you're at home, reading a book as you usually did. the day was calm, tranquil, and it didn't seem like anything bad would happen. the sun rays came in from the gap between the curtains and shone right onto your face.

little did you know what was going on out there. the avengers were looking for the Winter Soldier, and well, the search wasn't going really good. cars crashing, civilians injured. and the target out there, no signs of him.

your best friend, the Black Wid— Natasha, had been as reckless as she always was, and attempting to protect a citizen, she took a bullet on the shoulder. and instead of getting immediate medical attention, she used her bleeding arm to fire a shotgun and throw a few more punches here and there.

Steve wanted to get her to a SHIELD facility, but she knew their usual procedure — they'd have her arm cut open to remove the bullet, stitch her up, and keep her in observation. she didn't want any of that. too much physical contact for her liking.

so she thought of the only smart way she could make this play. she couldn't simply go to her house with a criminal running around, in the middle of a mission. and her team would go looking for her there. not a smart choice. so she went to you.

not that she wanted to be taken care of. not that she needed to be taken care of, due the intense amount of pain going through her system. she'd just go to your house to hide, yeah.

the knocks on your door sounded heavy and urgent. you placed the book down, walking to the entrance and looking through the peephole — finding yourself in front of a bleeding, broken Natasha Romanoff. the door almost flies open, and she doesn't give you time to ask questions, stumbling inside and kicking the door shut.

"shh, keep your voice down." the redhead whispers weakly. regardless of the pain, she tries to be sarcastic. "don't be too loud or they might find me."

"your arm!" you whisper-yell, ignoring everything she had said. you ran to grab a cloth, pressing it against the wound. Natasha hissed loudly. just then you realized it was a bullet. "holy shit, i'm so sorry."

"i'm good." she weakly reassures, grabbing the cloth from your hand, taking a step back. she applied pressure to stop the bleeding — but she was barely standing. "just a tiny scratch,"

"shut it." you shake your head and carefully lead her to the nearest couch, helping her to sit down. by now, you'd have already called an ambo. but like she said, she was being chased. "spit it out, c'mon."

"mission went wrong." she sighs, allowing her eyes to close for a moment, then opening them again. when she feels you sitting down next to her, she instinctively scoots over, as if to create some distance. "the most of it is classified. but it went wrong. that's all i can tell you,"

"alright, Natasha. but you got to go and see a doctor." you chuckle humorlessly, pointing out the obvious.

the redhead was sweating, expression showing clear pain. even if the bleeding on her shoulder had stopped, she was still weak. it didn't matter she was trained for that. she was still a person.

"i can handle it." she tries to smile, but feels the uneasiness again. her eyes feel heavy, and she wants to close them. but she knew that meant passing out, going to the hospital. "just get me a first aid kit and i'll be okay."

"god, you're stubborn." you murmur. you'd probably give her a speech, but not now. "hang in there, i'll be right back."

you quickly went to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, placing it on the living room's coffee table. you also grabbed a water bottle and a bag of cookies you had, in case she wanted to eat later.

you just didn't expect her to push you back when you reached out to touch her arm.

"just give it to me," she extends her hand towards the kit box, coaxing a small, incredulous laugh out of you.

"you expect me to let you do it yourself? in that state?" you ask, genuinely concerned now. you sit down by her side once again, slowly. she gulps.

Natasha was your elusive superhero friend, so you never really had that much of physical contact before. you didn't know about her past, either. you didn't know her fear of people touching her. her fear of being vulnerable. because back then, she wasn't allowed to be vulnerable.

widows never failed. widows never got sick. if a widow had an injury, that meant victory. she'd have to heal herself and focus back on the mission. so simply putting, Natasha didn't know what it was to allow someone to care for her.

but now... she was almost passing out. really. she also knew damn well you had no intentions of hurting her, nor reasons to do so. or else, she'd have distanced herself a long time ago. so she sighs in defeat.

"... just make it quick, okay?" she shifts, allowing you in her personal space.

you sigh as well in relief, opening the first-aid kit box and grabbing a wipe, putting some hydrogen peroxide on it. the blood under the cloth had long dried. you carefully unwrapped it from her arm, setting it aside. you examined the wound closely. the bullet went through, it was good, somehow. you wouldn't have to magically learn how to make a surgery.

Natasha's eyes followed your hand, as it wiped away the blood covering her arm. she was so tense at the beginning. but time went by, and her brain slowly registered the fact she didn't have a reason to be tense. her shoulders visibly eased up.

"the bullet's not here," you whisper, throwing the dirty wipes away and grabbing the ointment, the antiseptic, and the bandages. "i'll patch you up for now, but Nat, you seriously need some stitches."

she's relieved. the pain is still strong, but she's relieved, with you. only if you knew how bad she was trying not to cry right now. her voice quivers, as she points to something inside the box. "i-is that aspirin?"

you frown, stopping the movements. "it is. do you want some?"

"mhm." the russian hums, unable to stop the little tear from rolling down her cheek. with your help, she takes a couple of pills and swallows it with the water you grabbed earlier. "thank you,"

"you're welcome." you murmur back, softly smiling at the sight of Natasha's tender side starting to show up. you continue, applying the ointment on her skin and carefully spreading it.

"i never had this before," Natasha says, almost inaudibly. her head lowers itself to your shoulder, surprising you. "did you know that? because back then, getting hurt was a good thing. they made us believe that, i mean."

you listen to her soft rambling, humming to let her know you heard. you finish wrapping the bandages around her arm and shoulder, and put some band-aids to keep it secure. in response to her leaning against you, you carefully, gently wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"i'm glad you know that's not true anymore." you comment, and she nods. her lips quiver more. my, she looks so.. broken. and you'd do anything to fix her. at least try. "you can cry, Nat. let your pain out."

she sniffles, her one good arm circling you as she weakly buried her face on your shoulder, allowing the tears to flow freely. her body trembles, so you hold her closer, tighter. your body heat comforts her.

after a while, she certainly doesn't want to talk. her sobs quiet down, and she tries to cuddle up against you. " 'm tired, wanna sleep."

"i know." you say, pressing the back of your hand against her forehead. she surely had a fever. but the aspirin she took before would help, in a few hours. "you can take your rest now."

Natasha whimpers quietly — which was supposed to be a yawn — and allow her eyelids to finally shut. she clings to you tightly, as if genuinely scared you would disappear if she let you go. but you never would.

not after seeing such a thing. she did something major today. and you treasured it with your whole heart. you pressed a kiss on the top of her head and held her — having no idea if the SHIELD spies would come after you. nah, probably not. Natasha knew what she was doing.

[wandanatsbaby]

Star

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: gun. Mention of death

Natasha stood behind you. Watching, waiting, Waiting for you to find your favorite star threw the telescope before she made her move.

She had done this countless times before. She found it was easier for her victims to accept peace when they were looking at something they loved and she wouldn’t treat you any differently. So she waited quietly behind you as you adjusted the microscope looking for the specific star you loved.

She watched as your posture started to relax as you finally saw the little blue star you had been looking for. With a quiet breath she raised the gun in her hand to point it at you. She was ready. Ready to finish this mission and return home.

“It’s beautiful. Isn’t it?” You asked the girl standing behind you. She took a shaky breath at your words having not realized you knew she was there.

You turned to look at her with a small smile on your face completely ignoring the gun.

“If you're going to kill me I'd prefer you do it as I sleep tonight. I may love the star but I'd feel more comfortable laying next to you, Natty” You whispered. “But if you must then I shall look back at my star.” You turn your back to her again and look through the telescope. The star twinkles as you watch it.

“I hope I become one of them.” Suddenly the gun in Natashas hand feels too heavy and it's as if she can’t get enough air in her lungs. The gun drops to the ground with a harsh thud followed by the sound of her knees hitting the ground as choked sobs escape her body.

[its-really-dry]

[ y/n and natasha snuggled together on the couch ]

y/n: y'know..... if i had a rose for everytime i thought of you, id have one rose

natasha: *frowns slightly* only one?

y/n: mmhmm

natasha: *is now a lil sad* oh.....

y/n: id only have one because you've never left my mind *smiles*

natasha: im gonna marry you *kisses their nose*

kate on the other sofa: hey yelena?

yelena who is next to her: kate bishop if you try anything like that i will murder you

kate: ok

[ncis-nerd]

Don't you worry darling

theatre actor r! x stage manager!natasha romanov

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, sensory issues, panic attacks, crying.

Marvel Masterlist

a/n: not based off true events .. juliet if you see this... no u don't 😭

"Dude!! You're clothes are getting wet!!" Your castmate, Kate exclaimed. "Huh?" You looked at her confused. Your clothes were sitting perfectly on top of your bag, on the chair..Were they not?

Your eyes glanced towards the chair where your stuff resided at, and there were gone. SHIT- You rushed to pick it up from the tray of water but it was too late, the damage was done.

You were in an off Broadway play, sharing a dressing room with 13 of your cast mates, plus the guys from the other play. They kept the room so disgusting and you got the smaller room out of the two. But at least yours had a window and now had air conditioning. A downside to the air conditioning is that it would leak, so they had to get a tray to let the water fall into.

You knew it was risky putting your stuff so close to it but you just wanted to stay out of people's way. It was hard being squeezed into a tight, sweaty dressing room with 13 other people.

So of course, you didn't know how to react when you picked up your shirt, hoodie and pants, all drenched in the freezing water bin. Stupidly, you left it on top of your bag and rushed out. Keep it together, keep it together. Don't cry. You locked yourself in the bathroom, tossing cold water onto your very red face. Tears streamed down your face.

What were you suppose to do? Your clothes to change back into were wet, you can't wear your costume home and you'll get sick wearing wet clothes on a 2 hour train ride back home. Not to mention uncomfortable, due to the texture.

After a minute of attempting to calm yourself down, you exit the bathroom. As you open the door to the dressing room, you noticed members form the other cast have migrated in there as well, like Tony, Steve, Bucky, etc. "Y/N! Come join us in cards!!" Maria exclaimed. "No.. it's okay" you mumbled, as they shut the door.

It was way too crowded in there and you did not want to go in there. Instead, you looked for your director Natasha or the stage member Wanda or literally anyone that could help. But no one was there, so you stood there pacing. Don't start crying again, don't start crying. Your hand rose, taking its place on your scalp. Your fingers ran down your hair, a nervous tick of yours.

Finally, after fighting back years, you start to feel drops run down your face. "Yeah and she said- hold on I'll be right back!" You heard 2 of your cast mates, Kate and Yelena speak. You saw them when you came out of the bathroom but they went down the hall to gossip. Kate went into the bathroom and Yelena made her way back down the hall, towards you.

Dammit- she's gonna see me crying.. As Yelena starts to walk down the hall, she finds you crying in the corner. "Y/n- are you okay??" She spoke, her expressed worried. "I-i" You saw your assistant manager enter backstage.

Her eyes trailed onto yours, the brunette obviously concerned about you. "Someone knocked my clothes into the water and now it's all wet" you sniffles, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. A hitch in your breath and you could feel snot running down your face.

"Hey. Hey. It's gonna be all right, okay? We've got extra clothes, okay? Are wet clothes a texture thing for you?" Wanda, your assistant manager asked.

"No but it's gonna be uncomfortable wearing wet clothes for a 2 hour commute home" you said, wiping the tears from your face.

"I see you're an overthinker but try not to worry. We have dryers. I could put your clothes to dry?" The brunette asked.

"It's on the blue bag, close to the water tray. It's a hoodie, shirt and pants." You stuttered, trying to get your words out. "Okay, thank you, Y/n, I'll go grab it right now. Don't worry" she spoke softly.

You nodded as she entered the room, you saw her come back out with your clothes in her hand. "Luckily it's not too wet but I'll still go ahead and dry that for you." She smiled.

As the brunette left, you sat by the door. Not wanting to go back in the crowded room. You heard a loud "YEAH!!" or stomp or overall odd sound, come from the room. "That can't be good.." Wanda sighed, not bothering to go check it out.

Yelena and Kate, and a few other people from the other play whom you didn't know were chilling outside the room, so you just sat there with them. Not paying much attention to their conversations, just on your phone.

"I WIN!!" A voice screams from the room. "That sounds..." Kate trailed off. "Welcome to my world!" Wanda hummed, making her way back on stage.

--

FUCK, how could you be so stupid! You finally mastered your cues but managed to fuck up the one line you had. Everyone else did so good! "And I don't!" Mj exclaimed. Shocking everyone with how much she had improved in practing her monolouge. Your castmates went over to praise her. "You did so good!" "MJ THAT WAS AMAZING!!" you join them for a moment but then you dig your fingers into your palm. Don't you start crying. Not here, in front of them.

You made your way back to the dressing room, with the other girls. Yesterday you saw Maria sit under the dresser counter, it looked comfortable and most of all- isolated. You sat down, bumping your head in the procress. "Ouchh" you groan softly.

Your head took it place on your knees, you covered your face and began to sob quietly, you literally have the easiest job. Only 2 lines, and a few cues. It's not that hard. How could you screw that up?

"Time for notes!" Your stage manager Natasha exclaimed, entering the room. You didn't budge but no one seemed to notice you and you were greatful for that.

"Maria you really surprised us all back there, that was incredible!" Natasha smiled, praising the girl. "Yeah that was epic!" Another voice said. You recognized it, it was May, another one of the managers. You thought it was only Natasha there, is Wanda also there?

"And y/n?" Natasha paused. "Y/N? Are they asleep? Are they okay?" You heard her speak. A bunch of mumbles filled your ears, they were overly sensitive like that. Natasha took the hint to move on after no movement or words from you.

After the managers had left, they said you and your cast could change out of costumes and were dismissed. You rushed out, making a run for the bathroom before it got crowded. You had snot dripping down your shirt and needed to wash your face.

When you were done, you looked around. For someone, Natasha or Wanda. To explain what had happened and that you weren't just slacking off. But you saw no one. Kate left the dressing room, "Hey have you seen Wanda?" You mumbled, trying not to cry. You felt a big gulp in your throat. "Yeah I think she might be on stage." Kate smiled softly. "Could you get her for me, please?" You mumbled, once again fidgeting with your fingers. Kate nodded and you stood backstage, waiting. As she left, Natasha entered. "Hey! Y/N? What happened?" Natasha spoke softly, with an ounce of concern in her voice. Her face filled with sympathy. "Do you want to talk?" You nodded and thats when Wanda entered the room. They led you out of the theater and somewhere more private to speak.

You were nervous about being in there because the company that owns the theater had told you guys that you weren't allowed to hang out or be in there. But you ignored it, as they were trying to be accommodating to the best they could.

You took a seat next to Natasha, Wanda standing. "I forgot my lines, I froze and I forgot my lines but everyone else did so good." You sniffled. "Hey, it's okay. You messed up but you know that you did, you know you made a mistake so that's progress! Is there anything you need?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes focused on your teary ones. "...Water" you mumbled, Natasha and Wanda left the room. Natasha was the first to return with a cup of water. "Wanda went to check on your clothes." Natasha said, when you noticed that Wanda was gone.

You nodded and tried to break the silence. "Do you have any notes for me?" You asked. "Are you sure you want to hear that right now?" Natasha shot you a hesitant look. You nodded, "Yeah, please?" "Alright, if that's what you want. Could you be louder in the songs? We couldn't quite hear you from the back. And then there's the note about how you froze but you know so that's pretty much it." Natasha spoke softly.

Wanda entered the room, with your clothes and a shirt. "So your clothes are mostly dried, your shirts still a little wet. We can leave that here to dry, I gave you my shirt." Wanda smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder for support, before she left. "I-im gonna go change, if that's okay?" You spoke. Natasha nodded.

..

this baby has been sitting in my drafts for months bruh. pls don't flop i know there's barely any intimacy but i wanted to try to keep it as real as possible

[vitamina2211]

When the reader smokes or is alcoholic in fanfic: