#hurt/comfort natasha romanoff

[lemonade4wanda]

Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling

[tldrthor]

promises we intend to keep | steve rogers

Summary: The Avenger's spend time with their comatose friend, Cap's sanity slips from him as he spends every night by her bedside. Is blind faith enough?

Part 2 to things we shouldn't have said (prev. classic enemies to lovers stuff) // He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. // word count: 4.3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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“Hi, (y/n).” He settled himself into the chair next to the bed, the familiar antiseptic smell filling his nostrils, the beep, beep, beep of her heart like music to his ears. He had hated it at first, but now, it was evidence that she was still here. There was still hope. “I’ve got a break between meetings so I figured I’d come down and say hello.”

He leaned back, watching her peaceful features as unmoving as they had been for nearly a month now. He frowned at the wires connected to her neck and chest, knowing that if she was awake she would’ve hated that. Part of him wanted to rip them off, but his more rational thinking prevented him from doing that.

Dr. Cho’s words circled round his mind, as they hadn’t stopped doing since she spoke them all those weeks ago. “She’s not out of the woods yet. She died twice on the table, and requires all manners of intervention going forward. We’ll only know the extent of the damage when she wakes up –” The doctor had paused for just a second, trying to soften what was only certain to be a killing blow. “–If she wakes up.”

Every time he remembered those words, his knees felt as weak as Bambi on ice. The nausea he used to feel every time he entered this room had faded, and the shell-shock had worn. She still occupied every moment of his thoughts, awake or unconscious. Not that he had been doing a lot of sleeping.

He opened the book at the page he had last left off at, when Sam had come downstairs and dragged the Captain to bed himself last night. “Just to recap,” He spoke to her regardless of her response to him. “Laurie confessed to Jo, but she rejected him. Beth is still sick and boy, that’s rough.” 

He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

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“(Y/l/n), I’ve had enough now.” Natasha charged through the doors to where (y/n) lay. She threw herself down in the chair, leaning her head on her asleep friend’s shoulder, trying to gain what little emotional support she could from her usual source of sanity amongst the chaos of the compound. “The boys are driving me crazy. I think you’ve made your point; Cap is sorry – he’s very, very sorry, borderline depressed – so you can come back.”

She smiled a charming, pleading smile. But no one was there to see it. She dropped the smile after a few seconds.

“(Y/n), it’s hard without you here. No one’s the same, and Steve won’t accept any missions so we can’t even escape. Sam and Bucky are about to tear each other apart, and Cap just wallows in the gym whenever he’s not here with you.”

More silence. 

“Anyways, Cap said that he wants someone here as much as possible. And we haven’t hung out in a while, so if you don’t mind we’re going to watch the new season of Love Island together.” She kicked off her shoes, stretching her legs over the hospital bed and getting comfortable.

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The next visitor didn’t say anything as he walked through the doors, hovering by the foot of the bed. He uncomfortably brought his hands in and out of his pockets, shifting from one leg to the other. 

He eventually moved beside the bed, reaching a hand out to her forehead, to get rid of a hair that had found itself there. He stood there, staring, in silence for a while longer. He swallowed, took a breath, and spoke out loud;

“Kid, I don’t know if you can hear me.” He paused. “You probably can’t.”

He paced around the room, continuing; “I just want you to know, I got your little letter. Really, more of a stunt, very childish – anyway. I want you to know that if that’s your wish, I’ll help you out in setting up. But I also need you to know that you’re going to have to tell me that to my face. So you’ll have to wake up.”

“Also, I’m your boss and your sick pay is running out, so chop chop.” He joked to himself. He basked in the silence for another second.

“It’s not the same without you, (y/l/n). Hope to talk soon.”

“Mr. Stark, Mrs Potts is requesting your presence in the kitchen.” FRIDAY chimed in right on time. He muttered a be right up, taking one last look at his young teammate, and walked out the doors. 

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A month to the day since she was shot, Steve couldn’t sleep. Before the whole debacle, he would’ve just gone to the gym and fought it out of his system. But now, he couldn’t bear being anywhere but in the medical bay. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had woken up in that chair, neck in excruciating pain, the book on the floor. Or, the amount of times Bucky or Sam or Natasha had come downstairs and marched him back to bed.

He couldn’t help it. The thought of her waking up alone, not knowing where she is, was his greatest concern – scratch that, his greatest fear was her not waking up at all.

He didn’t take the time to change into proper clothes, instead deciding to head down in his pyjamas – ones that she had complimented him on, once upon a time. Red flannel pants and a matching henley – she had described it as ‘lumberjack chic’ and then explained that that was a good thing. He hadn’t realised back then, but Steve now thinks she might have been flirting. He cursed how much of an idiot he was before this disaster.

He wished desperately he could turn back time to then. Before he decided the only way not to love her, was to hate her.

“It’s me, again.” He spoke, taking his familiar spot on the chair next to the bed. He yawned, getting himself more comfortable, flicking the blanket they had all collectively decided was required over his legs. “Now, where were we?” He picked up the book again, reciting words from the pages until it fell from his hand, loud snores from his mouth filling the room.

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When he awoke again, he was in the same familiar pain he always had when he spent too much time in the chair. This time he had fallen forward, his head resting on the bed and… his hand entwined in hers.

He sighed, giving himself the luxury of just a second feeling what he would never have. Her hands were soft, and smooth. Not like his own. They were warm, and comfortable, and something about her fingers holding onto his just felt right.

It wouldn’t be respectful to linger for longer than that, not without her knowing, but as he tried to pull his hand away –

Was that a twitch?

He stared at her hand, now more awake and alert than he had been all month. There was no way, he was definitely just going delirious through stress, or lack of sleep, or maybe his age had just caught up with him because –

A second twitch.

“Oh my god.” He glared daggers into her hand, as if that would do something. Maybe he really was losing his marbles. This was just wishful thinking. His heart feeling like it was about to thump, thump, thump right out of his chest. Do it again. Please, do it again. 

When it happened for a third time, and he saw it with his own eyes, he could only make a noise that could really only be described as a squeal. On his feet in an instant, his hand finding its way to her cheek, cupping her face.

There was no other sign of life. He stared and stared and stared. “Wake up, (y/n). Wake up, I’m here.” He pleaded. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he considered them; “If you wanted to prove a point, consider it proven. You’re not a liability, you’ve never, ever been a liability.”

“Just wake up. I am so, so sorry for everything.” His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes staring at her face looking for anything that might indicate she was coming back to him. “Just wake up.”

Nothing.

He sat back down, defeated. He had gotten his hopes up, and it all came crashing back down. He placed his hand firmly back on hers as he leant his head on the bed, wet patches forming on the sheets as saltwater leaked from his eyes.

====================================

“Cap, we’re not saying we don’t believe you —” Sam was interrupted.

Steve turned away from his friends, growing more and more frustrated with every sentence uttered. They didn’t believe him. She had moved. She was coming back, but no one would listen.

“You don’t believe me. I promise her hand twitched.” His jaw tensed, his stare as far away from his friends as he could get.

“Stevie, we believe that you felt something, but you have to admit, bud, you’ve been hardly sleeping and pushing yourself too far. Nothing was picked up on monitors, how would that be?” Bucky reasoned, sitting in the same chair where Steve had been so convinced she was waking up, just hours ago.

He had called them to the room as early as he deemed was responsible that day, and they had come running. Only to find their friend still asleep, and the captain with red eyes and bags under them that only seemed to get worse and worse the more they looked.

Sam sighed, hand reaching up to rub his temple. He had had a pretty consistent headache himself for a good couple of weeks. “Steve, I completely understand. We all want her back, but you can’t keep torturing yourself over this. She’ll wake up, just give her time.”

“Sam, it’s been a month – the doctor said if she was going to wake up it would take around a week.” Steve pleaded, the tears welling in his eyes again. He didn’t care anymore about hiding it from them. They already thought he was crazy anyway.

Sam placed a hand on his back as he wiped the water with the back of his hand.

“We’ll wait as long as it takes, but it has to be we. You can’t be here all the time, Steve. It’s no good if she wakes up and you’ve killed yourself from lack of sleep.”

“I don’t want to miss the moment she comes back.” He whispered.

Sam and Bucky made eye contact, pitying looks cast between them. 

Bucky decided to speak, seeing Sam’s heartbreak at trying to reason with their normally solid friend. “Steve, you have to go to bed – don’t argue – but I’ll stay with her. I promise that if anything happens, I will let you know in an instant.”

Steve’s lips drew into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed. Bucky continued; “Come on, just give me a couple hours, Stevie. I’ll chat to her, we’ll listen to music or something. I promise I’ll take care of her.”

“Come on.” Sam put his arm round Steve, gentle but firmly leading him away. He stole one last glance, as Bucky pulled out his phone to put on some music.

When the boys were finally away, Bucky turned to her. “You’re causing quite a ruckus, tiger. You always liked your sleep, but this is a bit much.” He laughed, leaning back in the chair. “There’s not much to say, kid – I know that the others have been talking your ear off. We need you back.”

He scrolled on his phone a little. Looking for the playlist she had shared with him – one to blend their music tastes. It was originally just for a mission they had to go on together, but turned into one of his favourite ways to bond with her. Music. He laughed again at the name: ‘Golden Oldie and the Wunderkind’ He remembered the day she had made up the name, they hadn’t stopped laughing for hours.

He clicked shuffle, smiling as I and Love and You by the Avett Brothers came over the speakers. “I know you like this song because it reminds you of Stevie.” He teased, but let it play out. He didn’t quite let himself sing, but he did mouth the words to his favourite verse;

That woman, she’s got eyes that shine, Like a pair of stolen, polished dimes. She asked to dance, I said ‘it’s fine– I’ll see you in the morning time’.

What he didn’t tell her, didn’t dare to say out loud, was that ever since he had mentioned to Steve that she liked the song, Steve had listened to it at least once a day. Particularly after they had their usual fights.

These idiots have a lot to figure out when she wakes up. He thought to himself.

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Bucky got a few hours with her, listening to their playlist, occasionally chatting about the song choices. He briefly tried to read the book on the side, but when he saw it was Little Women, he put it right back down again. 

“Sorry, tiger. Not my vibe.” He chuckled.

The doors opened slowly, revealing a slightly-less-haggard Captain America. He had put actual clothes on, looked like he had slept at least a little bit and had even showered. Bucky gave a nod of approval, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair again.

“You feeling better?” Bucky asked his friend, who simply nodded in response. 

Buck stood, knowing that Steve wanted to be alone with her right now. To not have the pitying looks thrown at him that Bucky couldn’t help but cast. He understood, he had been there.

“See ya, punk.” He gave a hearty smile before leaving.

Steve took his rightful seat, sighing before starting the same routine they had done over, and over, and over again. He was growing so sick of this chair, and the bed, and the beeping from the machines that didn’t seem to be helping at all. 

He got through around half a chapter of Little Women, until he realised that Beth was going to die. He didn’t know how he hadn’t remembered, he had heard his mother reading this book all the way back in ‘35. He closed the book, finding death far too triggering, given the current situation. 

Just closing the book wasn’t enough, it was like it burned him to hold it. He threw it across the room in a moment of fury. Frustration swept his whole body as he spiralled, down and down and down. He was ashamed of how out of control he had become. He had always been so rational, so measured. He was always the one people came to when they needed grounding – yet he didn’t know how to ground himself.

He rested his head on her arm, his sweaty palms holding her hand with a ferocity hitherto unseen from him. Like his damn life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

“Come on, (y/n),” He pleaded with the air. With God. With her. “I know you’re mad at me, just wake up and we’ll have another shouting match. Just like before.” A brutally defeated tone weighed down his voice, rough and gravelly from the effort of his bargain. He enclosed her hand in both of his own, leaning his head against them.

A cough. 

He froze for a second, hiding behind her hand in his. The coughs continued, dry and painful sounding. Was there someone else in the room?

He took a moment to steel himself, peeling himself away from her hand, and staring at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. “Oh my god.”

“Water.” She croaked.

He jumped up, the chair going flying backwards. He didn’t notice. With shaking hands, he poured the water from the jug on the bedside table into one of the plastic cups. He held it up to her dry, cracked lips, watching as she drank the whole cup.

“Be careful.” He spoke, instincts kicking in. “You’re on fluids, don’t overload your kidneys.”

She finished, her head laying straight back down on the pillow. He could see in her very brief movements that she was weak. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Her eyes were barely open as she turned her head in his direction.

“Captain?” Her voice was rough as sandpaper, like she was straining just to get her singular words out. He just stared, incredulously.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” The pet name rolled off his tongue like he had always said it, and he didn’t even notice. “Oh, my god. You’re awake. I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

He had practiced over and over again, what he was going to say to her when she woke up. Thought about it for entire nights when he couldn’t get to sleep. His plans had been poetic and perfect – they were not ‘oh my god you’re awake.’ He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

Her eyes opened, slowly, and she looked around the room. “What happened?” The words were still a struggle to get out and he could tell. He wanted to tell her to rest, to save her voice for later, to recuperate. But he hadn’t heard that sound in so long, that he let himself be selfish – just one more time.

His own mouth when dry at her amnesia. She knew who he was, which was good. But not knowing how she ended up here was a bad sign. 

“What do you remember?” She was growing restless at lying down, and she was in so much pain. It felt like her whole body was made of stone, but she used all of the strength she had in her to try to sit up.

She was met by gentle hands, guiding her up and placing pillows behind her to support her. Hands that belonged to her once arch-nemesis, who looked at her now like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She was so confused. 

“I remember arguing in the forest.” Her eyes were wide with what Steve could only decipher as panic. “I don’t remember anything else… Why am I here?” The scared tone in her voice broke Steve’s heart all over again, but it could not take over the elation he felt at the fact that she was there.

He took a deep breath, briefly considering what he should tell her, considering all the events of the last month, in particular, that day. One of the worst days of his life.

“You were shot through the chest.” He began. “It knocked you out instantly, we barely got you here alive.” He ran his thumb softly over the back of her hand, unable to make eye contact. “You- you’ve been asleep for a month.”

He decided not to tell her of the fact she had died on the operating table. That could wait.

“A month?!” She shouted, resulting in another coughing fit. He helped her drink some more water, making soothing noises as she did so. It all felt so surreal. Every minute of every day since that moment, he had wished for this. And now it was happening. She was awake, and talking. 

Her voice started to clear; “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No. Please, don’t worry about me. You saved me from being shot right before you went down – it was my fault you got hurt.”

“I don’t think that’s right.” She contorted her face into a puzzled expression, looking down at his hand, clasping hers. She said it as a mix between a statement and a question – “We’re holding hands?”

“Yes, um. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and your hand twitched a couple of days ago so that’s why – sorry, I’ll stop-”

As he tried to untangle their hands, she closed her fist and prevented him from doing so. He watched her chest rise and fall quickly, her eyes wide.

“Please, don’t.” Her words were like a child’s as her nostrils flared. She was uncertain. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her uncertain before, not even a flash of hesitance had danced across her features as far back as he could remember. “It feels nice.”

Maybe, he just wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Then I’ll keep holding your hand until you ask me to stop.” He promised. A gentle, sincere smile took over his features, which she tried her best to replicate. He observed her face, drinking in the colour in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. 

It was a stark contrast to how they had last left off – the image replaying over and over again in his mind of her clinging to life, blood leaking from her mouth, her nose, her chest. The inky, sticky red coating his suit and his hands and his shoes. So much blood, endless. Sometimes he still felt the slick heat of it all over him. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to scrub that feeling from his memory.

“Where are the others? Are they okay?” (Y/n) asked, looking around the room at the various bunches of flowers and cards littered upon every surface. Steve had completely forgotten the others existed in his complete shock at her return.

He winced, knowing he should have called for them immediately. “They’ll be so happy to see you.” He spoke directly to her, and then to the ceiling; “FRIDAY, let everyone know that (y/n) is awake.”

“Yes, Captain.” The irish lilt came from above.

It was mere seconds before the doors came barrelling open, the entire team funnelling into the relatively small room, crowding around the bed and exclaiming various different versions of ‘Oh my god’, ‘You’re awake’, ‘Holy shit’. The room was absolute chaos with an unmusical cacophony.

This was allowed to go on for a few minutes, before the on-call doctor, someone (y/n) had never seen before, rounded the corner. “Okay, okay!” He shouted, “This is too much for the patient, I want everyone out – you can come in smaller groups.”

Everyone grumbled but did as they were told, each taking their chance to say ‘call if you need anything’, ‘see you later’ or ‘we’ll come back with sweets’. Bucky ruffled her hair and Natasha pressed a kiss to her cheek, muttering about how a certain Captain would be looking after her. She didn’t really understand what it meant, but a blush spread to her cheeks anyway.

As the last of them filed out, Steve turned to her and asked; “Do you want me to stay?” A certain vulnerability sewn into his question.

“Yes.” She answered far too quickly. “Please, Captain. If that’s okay.” Her voice seemed to get smaller and smaller as she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her grip on his hand tightened, both a demand and a question contained within it.

How on Earth could he say no to her? Her wide, gorgeous eyes searched his face for an answer, which he gave by settling further into the chair, pulling it even closer to the bed, if that was even possible. 

“Like I said, as long as you want. I’m here, you’re not alone.”

They sat in silence for a while, the Captain not taking his eyes away from her face. 

“(Y/n).” He had to tell her, now or never. He wouldn’t risk something like this again, things going unsaid. “I hope you know how sorry I am for what I said, all those weeks ago. It’s not an excuse, but I realised all this time I’ve not hated you, I’ve …”

She looked at him, her lips parted. Her messy hair splayed in a way where the fluorescent lights caught it, making it look like a sort of pseudo-halo. He knew it, right there and then. This was it.

“I’ve loved you. Since the moment we met.”

A shocked expression on her face moved slowly, her open mouth contorting into a soft, loving smile. She squeezed his hand, bringing her other arm over to hold it as well. Just more contact. That was all she needed.

“Steve, I feel the same.” She was still playing with his actual name, not ‘Captain’ or ‘Rogers’ or a sarcastic ‘Cap’. He couldn’t believe how it sounded coming from her – like it was a new name altogether. Like a song he was discovering for the first time.

He couldn’t help it now, he beamed. “You do?”

She nodded, licking her lips. They were so cracked, and dry. But she didn’t care.

“I– I can’t lean over to you, but… I would love to kiss you right now.”

He didn’t waste any time. Up and out of his seat in an instant, crossing what little distance was left between them. His hands reached her cheeks first, cupping them ever so softly. They breathed together, just for a second, his eyes flicking to hers almost to make sure she knew what she was doing. 

And then his lips were on hers. The kiss wasn’t like she had imagined – it wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t angry, wasn’t sudden. It was calculated and gentle and passionate. It was everything she could ever have hoped for.

They pulled apart, Steve knowing that she wasn’t strong enough to hold her breath to kiss her as long as he wanted to. His hand stroked her cheek, his eyes staring into hers. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, before moving up and pressing a kiss to it.

The look in his eyes was one of love, happiness and admiration.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since we met.” He admitted, breathless from excitement. They smiled at each other wordlessly, growing used to the looks between not being ones of glaring and daggers, but of kindness, and warmth.

The only sound was the steady beep, beep, beep of her heart rate – a sound he had definitely decided he loved. They stayed like that for hours, before she started to fall back asleep – to rest, this time.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, as she slipped back into slumber.

“I promise.” And nothing on Earth could stop him from keeping it.

================================================

TAGS -- I've tagged everyone who requested a part two! You guys really keep my motivation up so I hope it's done you justice <3. This will be the last part for now, but I'm thinking of setting future domestic fics in this universe!

@haven-in-writing @marvelouskatie @veryaverageapple @ironwinnerwonderland @ohdrey89 @waqtzayaontmblr @shygamergirl01 @starkenobi @ynstark

p.s. please please listen to 'I and Love and You' by the Avett Brothers if you haven't before -- it's so Steve and is such a lovely song.

[please-destroy]

Family

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3.5k

.

Family had always been complicated for you.

Until you’d started to get to know the Avengers, and suddenly, it had become simple. When Natasha proposed, family had become the best part of you.

The best and worst thing about defeating Thanos had been the same truth.

Natasha hadn’t been the one to fall at Vormir. 

But that meant Clint had.

You’d been left in the wake of the battle with a shell of a fiancée. Still, it was more than the Bartons had.

.

Natasha had refused to go to Clint’s funeral. You hadn’t pressed her on it. If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t been at all surprised. 

You knew what Laura had wanted, what the kids had hoped for. 

The pressure of their voices on the phone asking to speak to their Aunty Nat might have been enough to persuade her. It also might have been too much. You’d caught the panicked look in her eye when she’d overheard your phone call and realised who was on the other end of the line. You turned down the desperate requests of Lila in the kindest way you could. There was nothing else to do.

Natasha was still in bed when you left for the funeral. You tried not to let your worry for her linger too heavily. 

You filmed it all. Natasha just wasn’t herself yet and you wanted to give her the chance to see it when she was ready. 

You sat in the back row of seats, alone, except for Peter. You made an unlikely pair. He’d caught your eye when he’d first entered the room. He’d looked lost, like he couldn’t believe he was at another funeral. The bewilderment made him appear even younger. His suit was a little too big for him; you’d kept a comforting hand between his shoulder blades for the whole ceremony. 

When your name had been called to speak, you’d felt awkward immediately, handing your phone over to Peter as he took up the role of recording.

Your eyes kept flickering back to the camera phone as you spoke, painfully aware it should have been Natasha standing up here. You told the room what you could, about what a good friend Clint had been to you. 

You tried not to look at his kids, or Wanda. You said everything that you thought Natasha might have wanted to say. It was only guesswork, but that felt right too. Natasha and Clint had always had their own secret understandings.

You thanked the casket aloud when you passed it, feeling ridiculous and on show, as the words caught in your throat. When you touched it, you saw your engagement ring. You rested your hand there a minute longer, remembering you were here to give Natasha’s farewell as well as your own.

Laura cried with you after the service. She looked too pale and all you could think to do was keep your hand steady on her shoulder. You weren’t Natasha and you weren’t enough. You told her to call you if there was anything she ever needed. Laura looked numb. 

You squeezed her arm meaningfully when you repeated the words again. 

.

You managed to catch Wanda before she flitted away altogether from the gathering. Your hand caught her sleeve and she turned on the spot. She looked too pale as well. She was crying, eyes rimmed red. You knew she hadn’t really stopped crying since that last battle. You held her in a tight hug when she started to cry even more. 

You didn’t have any words to say, and neither did she. 

‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’ You’d asked hoarsely, fighting desperately against your own grief for Clint and everyone he’d left behind.

You caught the hesitation that held the truth in it before Wanda had even nodded.

‘Is it somewhere that you want to stay?’ You’d asked, suddenly viscerally aware of the impact of Vision’s death. Wanda had shaken her head then, eyes staring at the ground. You caught the tremble of her lip and took her hand in yours.

‘Come on.’ You said as you led her back to your car. Moving forward together was all you had left.

The drive back to yours was tense. Wanda stared out the window and you tried to keep your eyes on the road. You were exhausted.

You opened the door to the apartment that you shared with Natasha, leading Wanda through to the living room. Her eyes wandered automatically around the open space. You saw her notice the framed photos of yourself and Natasha that rested on the coffee table. You watched the raw grief roll through her, like she was feeling it all for the first time.

Before you knew it, you were holding Wanda upright, your hands bracing her forearms.

Wanda’s chest heaved with the dry sobs that were somewhere between pain and panic, as she fell forward against your chest. All you could do was keep holding her upright, letting her lean her weight against you. The sound coming from Wanda was muffled against your shirt, still you recognised it as aching grief in its most uncontrolled form. 

Wanda was barely there anymore. It made you scared. You eased her to the sofa, sitting alongside her. When you saw her eyes again, the tears had stopped, but the far away look was back. 

Wanda wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. She looked like she was trying to hold herself in one piece. Leaving her like this felt like a bad idea. You didn’t know what else to do.

‘Stay here.’ You soothed uselessly, seeing the ineffectiveness of your presence reflected in Wanda’s blank eyes. You hurried back through the hallway to your bedroom. 

Natasha was still in bed. You stood quietly in the doorway, you’d become an expert at reading the signs. You’d run your fingers through her hair this morning, and it still looked the same. Natasha hadn’t moved all day. Worry sat like a heavy pit in your stomach.

Natasha’s eyes flitted across to you briefly, before returning to the ceiling.

‘Hi.’ You whispered, though there was no actual need to be quiet. Your heart beat faster as you really took in the sight of her. You were starting to get scared. Natasha just closed her eyes at the sound of your voice. 

You moved across the room hesitantly, kneeling down next to her side of the bed.

You reached out your hand. You caught the glint of your engagement ring again and tried not to flinch at the deja vu from the funeral. 

You touched her cheek softly.

‘I love you.’ You murmured, because it was always true. You weren’t sure if anything was getting through to Natasha, but if anything did, you hoped it would be that. 

Natasha just squeezed her eyes tighter shut, and you saw the frown line on her forehead deepen. 

You let any hope slip away again, and got back to your feet. 

‘I’ll be cooking in a bit.’ You told her pointlessly. ‘Wanda’s here, you’re welcome to join us.’ You left off the inevitable alternative, that you’d put some snacks and water on the nightstand later.

She already knew what was coming, it had made up enough of her meals already.

You left the room feeling even heavier than when you entered. You hovered in the doorway of the living room for a second, spotting Wanda’s red hair spilling over the armrest of the couch. 

You took a brief moment to feel the hopelessness.

You checked your phone. Two texts. 

The one from Laura held a tight formality to it. Either from stress or disappointment with Natasha’s absence earlier.

Would either or both of you be able to watch the kids this Saturday?

You texted back in the affirmative, not letting yourself wonder how on Earth it would work. Maybe Natasha would feel better by then. You glanced back at the room you’d just exited and wished you could just stop pretending without everything falling apart.

The other text was from Peter. 

Were you free to call?

You didn’t groan, though a selfish part of you felt like it. You remembered that lost look he’d had at the funeral. You moved quickly into the spare bedroom, both for privacy and the chance to check that it looked okay for Wanda to stay the night. 

Peter missed Tony. Also, the sky was blue. You had expected him to tell you so, and still it hurt horribly to hear. You missed Tony too, but Peter had lost something closer to a father. 

You tried not to picture Tony’s daughter either, just like how you’d avoided Clint’s kids today. 

Some pain was unimaginable.

He’d been invited to stay with Pepper for a weekend. Happy had offered to drive him. Peter didn’t know what to do.

‘Family should be with family.’ You had said, trying to keep the numbness out of your voice, back pressed against the shut door of the bedroom.

You felt a tightness in your chest, it was beginning to feel like you barely had the remnants of a family.

You slid your phone back into your pocket and moved through to the living room. Wanda was not, as you’d hoped, asleep. She stared blankly still at the dark television screen. You tried to ignore the way her eyes glowed red every minute or so.

‘I’m not hungry.’ She told you before you’d even opened your mouth. You froze for a second, having forgotten she could hear your thoughts. 

‘What about -’ You began, trying to think of something that might tempt her.

‘I want to sleep.’ Wanda spoke again. Her voice was thick with exhaustion. You didn’t fight it any further. 

At least Wanda was talking, Natasha’s silence had begun to eat you alive. 

You moved her arm across your shoulder and helped her to her feet. She didn’t really need the physical support but it was all you had to give.

Wanda leaned heavily into your side as you walked with her to the spare room.

‘Borrow anything you like from the dresser. There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom.’ You felt yourself slipping into that tone you used with Natasha now. Keeping everything short, clear and to the point. 

Wanda nodded once and sat on the end of the bed. You hesitated at the sight of her glassy eyes.

‘I’ll find you something to sleep in.’ You murmured, a tight certainty in your stomach that she wouldn’t move again without prompting.

You changed her into old plaid pyjama bottoms and a faded band t-shirt that had once been Natasha’s.

.

When you left Wanda’s room, you moved back across the hall to the kitchen. You paused for a moment at the sight of the stove. You remembered you hadn’t been hungry in a long time. And if neither of them wanted to eat, you didn’t have to force yourself to either.

You grabbed a handful of cereal bars and two bottles of water. You knocked on Wanda’s door first. She was lying in bed now. You placed the food and water beside her. You kissed her hair before you left, she didn’t react. You felt empty inside.

You crawled into the bed next to Natasha, hating how she turned her head away from you immediately.

A part of you wished you were dead like Clint. That all this unfixable pain could be left for someone else to deal with. 

Instead, you buried your head into your pillow, dutifully maintaining the careful distance between the two of you. Finally, you let the exhaustion that you’d been trying to smother all day, rise up and claim you. 

You woke up with the daybreak. Your eyes went immediately to Natasha; she was crying again in her sleep. 

You moved closer to her instinctively, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the lightest brush of your fingers. 

You watched as the nightmare woke her with a startled sob. You saw the moment where she remembered that Clint really was dead. 

You kissed her cheek softly, pressing your lips to her wet skin and wishing desperately that you could take any piece of her hurt away.

You prayed that you could keep going. Moving forward was all you had left. 

Natasha’s eyes didn’t look up to the ceiling this time, instead, they looked back at you.

It was nothing. But it was also something.

You kissed her cheek again, hope flared up in your chest.

‘I’m going to make breakfast.’ You told her like nothing was wrong. ‘You go pee, I’ll see you in a minute.’ 

You threw a sweatshirt over your pyjama top and pulled on some leggings. When you looked back at Natasha, her eyes were still on you. You felt your head tilt questioningly. Natasha moved herself to a seated position in the bed and nodded once.

You wanted to smile and you wanted to cry. Today might be better than yesterday.

You headed to the kitchen. You found Wanda already sitting at the table, she’d wrapped herself in the blanket you usually kept draped over the sofa. 

You caught the dark circles under her eyes and a fresh wave of worry coursed through you. You didn’t know how much more you could take. 

‘I’m making breakfast.’ You didn’t know what else to say. Wanda just nodded wearily, staring at the mug in front of her.

.

You heard Natasha enter the room behind you while you prepared breakfast over the stove. You heard her shuffling footsteps become more intentional when she realised Wanda was already here. 

Then, you heard a half snarl. 

Before you had time to fully turn around, you caught the blur of Natasha in the corner of your eye. She flew through the air like she was possessed, but her movements retained the careful control that was second nature to her. Natasha pinned Wanda’s arms to her sides. You could see the way her nails dug in, from the harsh red marks already appearing on Wanda’s skin. 

Natasha spoke softly, her face already so close to Wanda’s. Nonetheless, her voice travelled.

‘Give me back his shirt or I will kill you.’ She promised quietly.

Your mouth opened in horror as you realised what you’d done. Wanda wasn’t wearing Natasha’s old band t-shirt. It was Clint’s shirt. You had forgotten.

Wanda’s eyes glowed red. 

A wave of panic flooded you, a scream died in your throat. You felt useless. Everything was going to get worse. It was your fault. 

‘You didn’t even come to his funeral.’ Wanda hissed out with more anger than you’d ever heard from her. ‘Why shouldn’t I have his shirt?.’ 

You stood still, rooted to your spot in the kitchen. 

Natasha dropped her hold of Wanda’s arms like she’d been burned. A horrible moment passed in silence.

‘Clint was my only family.’ Natasha choked out suddenly in a strangled voice. You watched as her breathing stuttered at her own words. She looked more alive and more pained than you’d seen her.

‘Well I lost my family that day too.’ Wanda’s tone was harsh still. You watched her jaw clench as she forced the next words out, like they were the worst poison sitting inside of her. 

‘Again.’ She added.

They stared at each other for another moment. 

‘Keep the shirt.’ Natasha muttered out, as she moved to sit in the chair next to Wanda’s. 

Wanda’s eyes softened with genuine surprise.

‘Thank you.’ She told Natasha.

Natasha didn’t reply but her hand reached out abruptly to grab Wanda’s. They exchanged another look. It was more than a truce in their fight, it was shared grief.

A strange mix of bitterness and jealousy rose up in you unexpectedly. 

You should have been happy, instead you felt invisible. 

‘I need some air.’ You muttered in a low voice that was not your own, avoiding the two sets of eyes that turned to you in surprise.

Before you blinked again, you were out the front door and continuing at pace along the sidewalk. You headed to the park. You just needed five minutes to breathe. 

If neither of them felt they had any family left, then you were more alone than you’d realised.

You sat down numbly on the first bench you found. As soon as your hands covered your face, you started to cry. It was longer than five minutes.

You let your phone ring out three times. You knew the heaviness would make you useless at helping Peter through his anxiety of seeing Happy again. You knew you couldn’t stomach hearing Laura ask if Natasha wanted to keep one of Clint’s old bows.

You just kept crying. 

.

When you stood back up from the bench, your legs were stiff. You didn’t check the time on your phone. You couldn’t deal with it just yet, but you knew it must be afternoon already.

The stiffness in your legs didn’t let up as you walked home, instead it felt like it was spreading along your limbs. You focused on burying the hurt again. You wondered if Laura ever went out to cry in the barn before coming back inside to face the kids. You felt a rush of guilt at the  comparison you had made. There was unimaginable grief and then there was this.

You just had to keep moving; everything would be fine.

Both bedroom doors were shut when you reentered the apartment. You repressed a groan at the realisation that they’d both gone back to bed.

You rallied yourself and moved back to the kitchen. 

The blackened remains of the cooked breakfast were still in the frying pan, resting on the counter after someone had remembered to remove it from the stove.

You really thought you might cry at the thought of cleaning up everything and trying to make some food all over again. 

Then, you remembered the image of Laura sneaking off to cry in the barn. You swallowed the sob in your throat and kept going.

Family or not, they both needed to eat.

You quickly lost yourself in the task, letting the rush of water from the faucet drown out your own thoughts.

You jumped at the sound of the front door closing. 

You turned in surprise to see Wanda standing in the doorway. She was wearing a green sweater; it matched ironically with the plaid pyjama bottoms. You felt your brow furrow with confusion at where she could have been.

‘They’re in here.’ Wanda shouted loudly over her shoulder. Her eyes met yours in an unreadable expression. Abruptly, you felt like you’d done something wrong. 

You didn’t have time to turn back to the food you were cooking before Natasha appeared in the doorway. Unlike Wanda, Natasha didn’t pause. She headed immediately over to you. 

‘Where the Hell have you been?’ Natasha demanded, her eyes assessing you carefully. 

The hurt you thought you had settled, roared up again unexpectedly. You bit back a bitter response about needing a moment for yourself. 

You closed your eyes for a moment trying to expel the feeling from your system.

‘I’m sorry.’ You began. Your tone was flat, but everything else sounded the right kind of neutral. ‘You both still need to eat something.’ You began to turn back to the stove.

Natasha’s hand caught your sleeve and you froze.

She hadn’t touched you in a long time. 

You bit your lip, trying not to cry. Everything felt confusing. You stayed still, unsure what to do next.

Natasha’s arms snaked around your torso then, and you let yourself be pulled in tight to her chest. Suddenly, you didn’t feel alone. You knew you were crying, you could feel the hot tears rolling down your face. 

Natasha kissed your forehead and you looked up to see that tears filled her eyes as well.

You felt Wanda’s hands touch your shoulders gently as she lingered for a moment, before moving past you to the stove.

‘Go sit down.’ She told you. ‘You need to eat as well.’

Natasha led you across the room then; you followed dumbly. She sat down on the sofa first and her eyes looked expectantly up at you. 

Suddenly, a new wave of anxiety rushed through you. You stilled as the panic filled up your chest. You didn’t know how to do anything but try and keep everyone moving forward. You didn’t know what would happen if you let yourself feel the grief too.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You mumbled, feeling a choking kind of sob rise up inside you. 

Natasha took your hands in her hers. With a tug she pulled you close to her, until you were sitting on her lap.

Your head rested against her chest and you could hear her heartbeat. Your mind filled with the rhythm of it. All the guilt for Clint and all the relief for Natasha flooded through you.

You heard your own uncontrolled sobs as an unspeakable pain hit your chest.

Natasha’s head rested on top of yours, and she took your hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed the engagement ring on your finger.

‘You never have to apologise to your family.’ She murmured. 

Even as the worst feelings coursed through you, you felt something else lighten.

Moving forward was easier when you walked together.

[purifiedclitoris69]

Don’t Hide

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x exhydra!reader

Slight angst and fluff/comfort

Summary: After a rough mission, you slip back into what your life use to be, what you were trained to do. Hiding away and spiraling Natasha’s there to comfort you.

The mission had gone sideways, but you’d survived worse. A nasty cut on your side and a few bruises wouldn’t stop you now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you carefully locked the bathroom door behind you. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, the whispers of Hydra training clawing at the back of your mind.

You’d been sharing this bathroom..a room, with Natasha for just a few months, the two of you navigating the delicate balance of a new relationship. It wasn’t easy—two broken people trying to make sense of something good for once—but you made it work. At least, most days. But tonight was different. You didn’t want her to see you like this.

You sat on the edge of the tub, carefully pressing a towel to the cut on your side, watching the blood seep through. Your hands shook, but you forced yourself to focus. Breathe. Patch it up and move on. That’s what they taught you. Never show weakness. Never ask for help.

In the quiet of the bathroom, the echoes of Hydra training were louder than usual. You weren’t *here*—you were back in those sterile rooms, under harsh lights, voices barking commands. You tried to shake it off, but the memories gripped you tighter. Your throat closed up, and suddenly, you couldn’t find your voice. The blood spilling out and covering your hands wasn’t your own anymore, it was that of your victims. The flashes of the cruel deaths you inflicted. The dozens of assassinations, slaughters.

Outside, Natasha had just returned from her own mission, tired but relieved to be back. She was looking forward to unwinding with you, maybe sharing quiet moments in the space you now called yours. But the minute she stepped into your shared room, she knew something was wrong.

The faint scent of blood hit her nose, and her eyes darted toward the small droplets leading to the bathroom. Her heart sank. You were hurt. Worse, you were hiding it from her.

She crossed the room swiftly, her own exhaustion forgotten. When she reached the bathroom door, she knocked, a firm but controlled sound. "Y/N?" Her voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern. "Can you open the door?"

You froze, your hands trembling more now. You didn’t want her to see this, to see you like this. Weak. Silent. You were meant to be a ruthless killer, the perfect soldier. You tried to stand, to clean up the blood before she could come in, but your knees buckled under the pressure.

"Y/N," Natasha continued, a slight edge and frustration creeping into her tone. "What happened out there, let me in.”

Your mind raced, Hydra’s voice overlapping with hers. Don’t let anyone in. Turn it off. Don’t show any vulnerability, any emotion, or you will be punished. You gritted your teeth, the walls around you closing in. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you couldn’t respond. The words were there, but they wouldn’t come.

Natasha, on the other side of the door, was getting worried. The silence on the other side was too familiar—the kind of silence born out of fear or pain. She knocked again, a little louder this time. "Y/N, open the door, right now, I’m serious. I need to see if you’re okay."

She wasn’t yelling, not really, but the firmness in her voice felt like too much. Like an order. Your chest tightened, and the panic swelled, pushing you deeper into the memories. The room blurred as your pulse raced. You messed up this mission, you didn’t follow orders, you should expect repercussions. All you could hear now were the commands from long ago: “stay quiet, fix it yourself, don’t be a liability.”

When Natasha heard the shallow, unsteady breaths through the door, she knew. This wasn’t just about the injury. She knew that sound—it was the sound of you slipping into something darker, something that haunted both of you. Her own frustration faded, replaced by the urgent need to help you.

She carefully jimmied the lock, opening the door slowly, not wanting to startle you. And when she saw you, sitting on the bathtub, bloodied and shaking, her heart broke. You were trying so hard to patch yourself up, but it was clear you were far from okay. The familiar signs of an episode setting in—shaky hands, heavy breathing, racing heart, visions of the past blending with the present.

Natasha crouched in front of you, her movements deliberate, not touching you but close enough for you to feel her presence. Her voice softened, calm but insistent. "Hey, it’s me. You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not back there. You’re here, with me."

Her words cut through the fog, but barely. Your hands were shaking too hard now, and the towel you were using to stop the bleeding slipped from your grip. Tears welled in your eyes, as you clenched your jaw hard enough to crack teeth, willing yourself to keep them at bay. You tried to tell her you were fine, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. The training, the trauma—it was all rushing back too fast.

Natasha sighed softly, guilt tugging at her for being stern earlier. "I’m sorry I got loud. I just… I needed to know you were okay."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, but Natasha saw them anyway. Her gaze softened even more, the concern etched into her face. She moved slowly, standing and carefully taking the towel from you. "Let me help, okay?"

You didn’t protest this time. The panic was still there, the memories still too close, but Natasha’s presence grounded you. She pressed the towel to your side gently, her touch reassuring, her focus entirely on you.

As she worked to clean the wound, she spoke softly, not to ask questions or pry, but just to remind you she was there. "I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But we’re a team now. You don’t have to hide this from me." She softly cleaned the cuts in your face too, applying bandages and ointments.

Her words made something inside you shift, a tiny crack in the armor you’d built. You nodded, your breath still shaky but steadier now. The room felt a little less suffocating with her by your side.

When she finished patching you up, Natasha finally met your gaze, cupping your face "We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

You nodded subtly, eyes still distant, you mumbled something inaudible.

she kissed the top of your head and held you against herself, “I love you.” she whispered so softly.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” you answered against her, bring your arms to wrap around her waist and hold her ever so gently.

The tension in your body begins to ease as she softly runs her fingers through your hair, her touch grounding you. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask you to talk, just sits with you, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Her voice is low and soothing as she hums softly, her hand tracing calming circles on your scalp. Slowly, the chaos in your mind begins to fade, the safety of her touch allowing you to breathe a little easier. She stays like that, holding you through the storm, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

For the first time that night, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face this battle alone.

[midastouch013]

"So f**king stupid"

Based on this request

Summary: You've been neglecting your pregnant wife for a while now, and so when you come home early from a mission, what do you realize?

Warnings: Pregnant Nat, Angst, Hurt, Insecurity, Stupid reader. hurt/comfort. Minor swearing

малютка - Little one

--

It had been weeks since Natasha had felt the warmth of your embrace for more than a fleeting moment. Your once bustling mornings, where you’d share quiet cups of coffee and stolen glances, had become a distant memory. Instead, Natasha watched the clock tick as she waited for you to finish whatever mission or task had consumed your attention for the day.

When you finally appeared, it was never long enough. Five minutes for a rushed lunch, barely enough time to talk, before you’d sprint off for another meeting, debriefing with Steve, or diving into Tony’s chaos. Natasha tried not to take it personally, but as the days passed, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being left behind.

She had suggested lunch together, but you were too caught up. "I have five minutes, and then I need to brief Steve on the mission,” you had said, eyes scanning the files in your hands as you quickly stuffed the sandwich into your mouth.

"Five minutes," Natasha echoed, the sting of disappointment lacing her words. She didn't want to argue or demand more of you, but the gap between the two of you felt insurmountable now. The movie night you had planned, a quiet, cozy evening for the two of you, never came to fruition. “I can’t, babe. I’m helping Tony with the team’s weapons. I’ll make it up to you,” you had promised, but the days turned into weeks, and Natasha was left curled up on the couch, movie tickets long forgotten.

Then came the nights—quiet nights. Natasha would curl up in bed, waiting for you, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. You’d pass through the door just as she was about to fall asleep, your face flushed from running through the day’s tasks. She’d offer a smile, but you would always say the same thing.

“Don’t wait up. I have a ton of files to go through.”

And Natasha would nod, pretending everything was fine, even as she lay in the dark, alone.

Sometimes, other members of the team would come by, but they were too busy to stay long, and Natasha wasn’t about to burden them with her own loneliness. She didn’t want to be the needy partner who demanded attention. So, she tried to fill the silence by keeping busy, like working on her own training or catching up with Clint, but even that didn’t erase the quiet emptiness she felt in your absence.

You hadn’t realized. Or maybe, you hadn’t noticed how much you’d drifted away. Your focus was on the mission, on keeping the team safe, on the work that needed to be done, and Natasha understood that. She wasn’t angry with you. But somewhere between the late nights and early mornings, she had slipped through the cracks.

And with the passing weeks, Natasha's growing discomfort seemed to only intensify. She had always been strong, capable, but the changes happening in her body, combined with your increasing absence, were slowly eating away at her. She tried to brush it off, to remain the confident, fierce Black Widow, but deep down, doubts gnawed at her.

Her body had changed as the baby grew, and she could feel her insecurities creeping in. The soft curves, the slight roundness in her belly, the changes she couldn’t ignore. She knew, intellectually, that it was natural, that this was a process she was supposed to embrace. But all she could see was the woman she once was slipping further and further from view, replaced by someone unfamiliar.

And you, the person she needed most, were always busy. You were still there, but you weren’t really there. You’d rush in and out, offering half-hearted apologies when you saw the sadness in her eyes, but it never seemed enough. She didn’t want to burden you more, didn’t want to add to your already overflowing plate, so she remained silent, trying to make do with the little moments she could grab in between your tasks.

But then, as the days stretched into weeks, something shifted. The way you looked at her, or maybe the way you didn’t look at her. It was subtle at first, but Natasha started to feel invisible. Was it the baby? Was she no longer desirable to you? The fear of you losing interest in her started to fester deep inside. She knew you loved her, but that didn’t make the pain of being neglected any less real.

She tried to convince herself that it was just the stress, the weight of being an Avenger, but the fear of you leaving her, especially with the baby on the way, made her chest tighten. And it all festered until that fateful night.

--

It wasn't that late but the house was dark and quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as you slipped inside. The mission had wrapped up early, for once, and instead of your usual routine of staying to finish reports or help Tony tweak weapons, you’d decided to come home. Natasha had been on your mind all day, you missed her and wanted to see your favourite person and soon-to-be other favourite person (your baby) again.

As you walked down the hallway toward your bedroom, you noticed the faint light seeping through the slightly ajar door. You slowed, intending to surprise her, but the soft sound of her voice made you pause.

Natasha was talking. No, she was… whispering.

You peeked through the crack in the door, and your heart clenched at the sight. She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her swollen belly, her head bowed as though in deep conversation. Her voice was thick with emotion, barely above a whisper, but every word carried the weight of her pain.

“Hey, малютка,” she began, her tone soft and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard in months. “It’s just us again tonight. I guess that’s nothing new, huh?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. She thought she was alone, pouring her heart out to the child growing inside her.

“I know she’s busy. She’s saving the world, like always. And I’m so proud of her. I really am,” Natasha said, her hand rubbing gentle circles over her belly. “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I’m the only one here. Like she’s forgotten about us.”

Your chest tightened, the guilt clawing at your insides as you stayed rooted in place, unable to interrupt her.

“Maybe it’s me,” Natasha continued, her voice cracking. “Maybe she’s just... not attracted to me anymore. I mean, look at me.” She let out a hollow laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. “I’m not the same woman she married. I’m bigger, slower, more emotional. I cry at stupid things like movies now. I wouldn’t blame her if she looked at me and thought, ‘This isn’t who I fell in love with.’”

“No, Nat,” you whispered under your breath, tears stinging your eyes.

“She probably thinks I’m too clingy,” Natasha said after a long pause. “But it’s just... I miss her. I miss the way she used to hold me, talk to me, look at me like I was her entire world. And now... now I feel like I’m just another thing on her to-do list.”

You wanted to burst in, to tell her how wrong she was, but you couldn’t move. Her words pinned you in place, each one hitting you like a punch to the gut.

Natasha’s voice softened again, almost a whisper. “I’m scared, малютка . What if she leaves? What if she realizes she doesn’t want this life, doesn’t want me... or you?”

Your knees nearly buckled as she continued, her words slicing through you like shards of glass.

“I’m trying to be strong for us. But some days, I feel like I’m falling apart.” Natasha sniffled, her voice trembling. “I just hope... I hope you’ll know how much I love you. Even if she doesn’t stay, you’ll always have me. I promise, okay?”

That was it. You couldn’t take another second of her pain. Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, and Natasha’s head snapped up, her tear-streaked face a mixture of shock and mortification.

“Y/N?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “How long have you been standing there?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too thick, and the shame was too heavy. Instead, you crossed the room in a few quick strides, sinking to your knees in front of her.

“Tasha,” you choked out, your voice breaking, unable to conjure any words.

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly, reaching for your hands. “No, Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to downplay it. I’ve been so blind, so caught up in everything else, that I didn’t even see how much I’ve hurt you.”

Your eyes glistened as you looked up at her, your heart breaking at the sight of her swollen belly and the raw pain in her eyes. “I’ve been such a selfish idiot, Nat. You’re my wife. You’re carrying our child, and I’ve been neglecting you. I let you feel alone, and I let you doubt yourself. God, I’m so fucking stupid.”

Natasha tried to squeeze your hands, to reassure you, but it only made you feel worse. “I know you’re busy,” she began, her voice soft and hesitant. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t,” you pleaded, cutting her off. “Please don’t make excuses for me. I don’t deserve it. I’ve been putting everything else first when it should have been you. I’ve been taking you for granted, and I hate myself for it.”

She hesitated, her lips trembling, and you could see the walls she’d tried to build around her pain start to crumble. “I just... I didn’t want to be a burden,” she admitted quietly.

“You could never be a burden,” you said firmly, cupping her face in your hands. “You and our baby are the most important things in my life. And I’ve been so stupid, Nat. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I didn’t realize what I was doing to you, to us.”

“I’m so sorry, I—please forgive me, Nat. I promise, I promise, I’ll be here. I’ll be here for you, for the baby. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with tears of her own, and for a moment, she was silent. But then she nodded, slowly, her face softening with the first real sense of relief you’d seen from her in weeks.

“You mean it?” Her voice was small, fragile, but hopeful.

“I mean it,” you whispered, pulling her into your arms, holding her tightly. “I’ll be here, Nat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. You’ll never feel alone again.”

She melted into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as her tears fell silently against your skin.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’ve missed you so much.”

"I missed you too", you whispered back with a kiss to her forehead.

And you held her tighter, never wanting to let go. The weight of the past weeks hung between you, but in that moment, as you both finally allowed the distance between you to close, it felt like there was hope. Hope that, despite everything, you could fix this. You could be the partner she deserved. The mother of your child. The one she needed.

And you’d never make her feel alone again.

[themoonhauntedmyillusionss]

𝑶𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝟑𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝟐𝟎, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 5.4𝒌

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚛: 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜.

“I should’ve been the one to tell her.”

“I know that, but she came here already knowing about most of the stuff. Yet, I didn’t tell her anything.”

“Yet here she is, upset.”

“Well, Natasha, that is on you.”

“I did what was best for her! You have no idea what Yelena and I had to—

“Stop it, now. Both of you. You’re startling her; go out. Now.”

You had slowly started to wake up, but as soon as your brain started to register what was happening around you, you realized someone was fighting, and you were positive it was your fault. You could hear the voices rising, finally recognizing one as your mother’s and one as Pepper’s. You could hear the way your mother was worried and disappointed; you could also hear a light wave of regret in her voice; your heart ached, wanting nothing more than to tell her it was okay, that you still loved her. You wanted to tell her you just needed some explanations; you needed to know more, but you would never leave her. You wanted to comfort her and to be comforted back, but you couldn’t face the idea of letting them know you had woken up, that you had listened to their fight. Your heart hurt more and more with each word; you could feel it clenching in your chest, your breath was becoming heavy, and you felt the need to cry. You just wanted to be comforted back to reality.

And that was when you heard her, Wanda’s voice. Her voice was soft but firm, and you felt like the softness in that lovely sound was more directed towards you than towards them. You suddenly felt complete silence around you, and your heart slowly started to beat normally, to feel normal again. You wondered if it was just her tone of voice and her words that convinced your mother and Pepper to leave; you wondered what the look on Wanda’s face was; you knew she could be very protective about the ones she loved, but you had never seen that side of her revolving around you. A part of you wished you had opened your eyes, that you had seen the look on her face. A part of you wished you had seen and known if she had been looking at them or at you, that you had seen how close she actually was to you. 

You still didn’t move a muscle; even if you knew that your mother and Pepper weren’t in the room anymore, you still didn’t feel safe. You felt the mattress of the bed lower as someone, probably Wanda, sat next to you. Your heart fluttered at the thought of Wanda wanting to be close to you, to comfort you and reassure you. You could feel your cheeks getting warm, the need for closeness becoming more intense as you pictured her in your mind, sitting close to you, looking at you with those mesmerizing green eyes. Yet, you didn’t move; you knew she was aware you were awake, but you didn’t want to be the one starting the conversation. 

“Moya dorogoya, I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I wish I had noticed sooner you were waking up.” Her voice was soft and gentle, comfort washing over you at her words. You stayed still, not wanting to react yet; your thoughts were still overwhelming you. Finding out about their job took a number on you: the worry, the disappointment. No one ever told you anything; how many times were they risking their life without you knowing? “Detka, please. Can I come closer?”

You heard her voice as a whisper; you slowly opened your eyes, taking her in, her sweet green eyes looking at you worriedly, her beautiful smile trying to warm you up. You then noticed her outfit; she still hadn’t changed. She looked like the pictures you saw online, but… your eyes widened and you sat up immediately.

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your voice was filled with worry as you saw the red outfit all teared up. What had they done to her? Your eyes started welling up with tears at the thought of her being hurt, of her getting hurt by someone. Your mind started spinning once again, your thoughts clouded in pictures of who, or what, they were fighting, of what that thing could have possibly done to them, to her. You wondered about her pain in that moment, the way she could have been scared, hurt, the way she had reacted. You suddenly felt the need to have been there, to have been able to be there for her, to have been able to have hugged her and healed her somehow. You felt comfort and reassurance as her hand came to rest on your cheek, her eyes locking into yours, looking at you sweetly, supportively. Your words filled her ears, her smile widening ever so slightly, her heart soaring with how genuine your concern sounded... She loved this.

“Everything’s okay; don’t worry. I’m used to it, but look.” Her voice was soft as you looked at her, her hands swirling around in the air, her fingers moving slowly as red energy strings flew out from her fingers. You looked at her in awe, wondering what she was doing, but soon you realized it; her outfit changed, and she was now wearing soft, comfy clothes. All the tears on her outfit were gone, and her skin looked as fresh as it would have after a shower: no scars, no cuts, nothing at all. You smiled relieved, and you sighed, leaning into her touch. 

”Was that...?" Your voice was curious and excited; you couldn’t believe what you had seen was real. You knew she had something magical; she could hear your thoughts, after all. However, to actually see magic come from her fingers was just… shockingly beautiful. 

“Magic, yes.” She chuckled softly at the awe in your voice, her eyes softening further with adoration at your reaction. It had been several years since she started showing her powers, and now they felt completely normal to her, but seeing your enchanted reaction to them made her feel like she was using them for the first time. Her voice was still soft, smiling at you tenderly, the hand on your cheek caressing it gently; you sighed in relief, awe, and adoration. “How are you feeling now?” 

“A bit better. I still want answers, though.” Your voice was a bit stern; you knew she probably wasn’t at fault. From what you had gathered so far, it was your mother’s decision to keep everything from you; so Wanda had just probably been trying to respect your mother's wishes. However, a part of you wished she had been the one to tell you the truth. That she had loved you enough to fail at being supportive to your mother and just caved in telling you everything. You knew your thoughts weren’t fair to her or to your mother; you knew they had developed a bond, but you still wished you had known. The redhead nodded her head, not saying anything; her hand kept caressing your cheek, her face leaned closer to you, and you could feel her breath on your skin. You swallowed heavily, your need for answers slowly fading away as another need, more primal, more desperate, filled you. Her mouth landed on your other cheek, her lips soft and warm. You closed your eyes at the feeling, embracing every moment. 

“I’m going to call your mother, okay? We’ll see each other later; Tony has decided we need to have lunch here today.” You could hear the small groan leaving her lips at the idea, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about having to eat lunch at Tony’s. Not if it meant being able to spend more time with Wanda, even if you couldn’t be alone, which was probably for the best. You nodded your head; disappointment showed on your features as her lips pulled away from your skin and she stood up from the bed. Her hand on your cheek squeezed a little bit, the touch ever so comforting to you, as you waited for your mother to come in. 

You sat up straight on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard as you looked at the door slowly opening. You saw your mother making her way into the room, a look of utter regret on her face. You tried to smile at her, but the disappointment you felt towards the way she acted with you during all those years made it hard to do. Your mother sat on the bed next to you, a part of you thinking about mere moments before, when in that same spot Wanda had been sitting, comforting you. However, you knew you needed this; you knew it would have been good for both you and your mother to talk about everything. You knew this was something you absolutely wanted; you needed to know all the things she had been keeping from you. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. I know you deserved to know, but I was protecting you.” You knew she was going to explain it like that, but that did not make you feel any better. Part of you knew she was telling the truth, that all she ever wanted to do was raise you safely and protect you from everything that could ever harm you. The other part, though, was upset at the fact that she had put her own life at risk so many times and you knew nothing about it. You always thought of your relationship with your mother as being completely founded on trust, on telling each other the truth; especially about things as important as that. 

“Well, Morgan was raised properly, yet she knows about everything.” Your tone was stern, hurt even, but you couldn’t help it. The fact of you not knowing was already upsetting you before knowing that Morgan, a 14-year-old, knew things of such importance and you didn’t. Knowing that it was your mother’s choice not to let you know about it made it even worse from your point of view. You noticed her eyes narrowing at your words; you knew she probably had her reasons for keeping you out of what she had been doing, to keep you out from the risks she had to face, but you still couldn’t quite forgive her yet. 

“Morgan wasn’t at risk like you were.” Your ears perked up at that, wondering what your mother was on about. You were sure she and Tony were on the same side, on the same team, which meant that everything that could have harmed you would’ve harmed Morgan too. You looked at your mother, confused, your expression telling her to keep talking, to explain to you what she meant by that. Your mother sighed. “I guess I should start by telling you about how I was raised. I was taken away from my parents when I was a child, and I was forced to attend a training involving every aspect of my life. I had no childhood; I had no real parents. I had teachers and coaches who were abusing me all of my childhood and teenage years. I was trained to become a deadly spy and assassin. I was trained in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, and espionage; I was brainwashed and manipulated from a young age. I won’t tell you specifics because it’s a lot to talk about emotionally, but if you want, from time to time I can tell you bits here and there. The important part I need you to understand is that we thought I had managed to destroy everything about that organization, yet someone followed the footsteps of the man who did this to me and tracked you down as my daughter. They wanted to do to you what they did to me; I couldn’t let that happen.” Your eyes never left your mother’s; both of you were tearing up, knowing your mother had suffered so much during her life made you want to scream, to throw things, to punch something. You felt a rage inside you that you were having a hard time controlling. How could someone ever do something like that to a person? To a child? You found your hand on her arm before you could think about it, but you would’ve done it either way; she suffered so much, so many horrible things, and she had wanted to spare you the same fate. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Mom. I… I know it’s hard to talk about it; I understand why you didn’t. Part of me still wishes I had known, if only to have been able to be there for you.” You felt a tear slide down your cheek; you wished your mother never had to hurt like that; you wished she could have had the same beautiful childhood you had. It was difficult to spend so many years in hiding, but the bond you had created with your mother made everything worth it. “I wish you had someone, the same way I had you, to protect you.”

Your mother shook her head, placing her hand over the one you had on her arm, stroking it lightly. 

“I probably wouldn’t have you with me now if that were the case. You’re more important than everything that ever happened to me.” You flew into her arms; you needed to feel her close, to feel her embrace and her comfort. You wanted her to know that you loved her no matter what, that you were never going to leave her, whatever was going on between the two of you. 

“Tell me about them, Mom. The Avengers: how it started, who are they, even though I think I know all of them.” You smiled at her; you were sure that talking about them would lighten her a bit. With them, she had been saving the world, doing the exact opposite of what she was trained to do, which probably made her feel worth something in the end. 

Your mother smiled at you, her hand wiped away her tears as she nodded. You listened carefully, as if you were a child and your mom was telling you a fairytale to make you sleep. You listened as she told you how she managed to escape, how she came to the realization of what that organization really was. You listened carefully as she told you how she finally found a way to use everything she had learned in a good way, how she understood how she could save people with her abilities. You listened in adoration as she told you about the Avengers, about the way she slowly bonded with all of them. You would've listened to the story of her life forever.

“About Wanda, I can only tell you she stole my jacket.” You furrow your eyebrows at that; a confused expression paints your face as your mother softly chuckles. “Wanda joined us when she was 16. She has a very rough story about her childhood, too, but I believe she should be the one to tell you that.” You nodded slowly at her words, your heart clenched a bit knowing that Wanda also struggled as a child; no one should struggle as a child, and you wish you could've rescued her the same way they rescued you. “She was our enemy at first, quite a feisty little one, too.” Your eyes almost popped out of your face as she told you Wanda was their enemy, but your expression softened as soon as you heard her call the redhead a feisty little one, wishing you could've seen her when she joined them.

“She was?” You asked her, your voice full of curiosity, wonder, and awe at the idea of Wanda being their enemy and then joining them. You saw your mother nod and smile; you could sense that she was reliving the memories in her mind, and you chose not to bother her. The two of you stayed there, sitting in complete silence; you were trying to process everything your mother had just told you, from the way she was raised to how she tried to protect you from the same fate. From the way she probably killed an enormous amount of people to the way she found out she could help people with the same abilities she had killed them with. Your mind felt like a mess, but you didn't feel that way. You recognized the amount of information that was circling in your head, but you didn't feel as overwhelmed by it as you expected to.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and both you and your mother turned around to face it as Wanda made her way into the room. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest as Wanda entered the room. Your heart quickened its rhythm, your fingers subconsciously playing with each other as if to seek comfort. Her gaze lingered on you a beat too long, and you instinctively desired to be alone with her, to hold her close and capture her lips with yours. You desired to hold her close, to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and, finally, her lips. You desired to hold her close, to run your hands on her skin, to feel her body shiver under your touch, under your attention. You desired to touch every part of her, to kiss every part of her. Yet, you swiftly reminded yourself to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Tony has already told me three times that they’re all waiting in the dining room for lunch, so I figured it was best to tell you before he came in for himself.” As Wanda delivered the message from Tony, you could sense her frustration towards him, likely stemming from some undisclosed tension. You knew she didn’t like him very much; you knew she had some kind of resentment towards him, but you had no idea about what had actually happened between the two of them. You looked at the way she was almost shy at the idea of interrupting your time with your mother, and you wanted to tell her that everything was okay, that you were more than happy to see her, to feel her close in some way.

You noticed her face light up suddenly, even though not a single word had been spoken. You were about to look at her and then at your mother, confused, but as you saw Wanda looking at you with eyes full of sweetness and gratitude, you realized: your thoughts. 

“Don’t worry, Wanda, it’s okay. As for Tony, you know how he is, and I do too, so I wouldn't worry too much about interrupting us because of him. I definitely understand.” You saw how Wanda’s shoulders relaxed even more at your mother’s words, and your heart warmed a bit knowing how much of a comfort they could be to each other. You still didn’t know much about their friendship, how it started, and when the deep bond actually made its first appearance, but you could see the way they acted towards each other, and it made you feel lighter knowing they had each other when things probably were messy. You looked at your mother and then at Wanda; nodding your head and standing up, you didn’t trust your words, not when you knew the feelings towards the redhead were still washing over you again and again each time your eyes met hers.

You had been sitting down at the table for the past couple of hours; you had decided to sit next to your mother to feel the comfort she always seemed to be able to give you. You already knew all the people at that table, but getting to know them on a deeper level made you feel uneasy; getting to know how they became Avengers made you feel glad that they were sharing those parts of their lives with you but also sad about all the awful things they had to endure. When they started telling you bits and pieces of their missions, you found yourself being mesmerized as you listened to them; a part of you was also relieved as you understood how well-organized they were and how good they actually were at what they did. You slowly also started to understand how good your mom was, the way she had no powers at all, no ability to fly or super strength, but she was just as amazing at everything as anyone else, if not even more. As they were telling you about your mother, your eyes drifted to Pepper, smiling at her genuinely, knowing all that was exactly what she was trying to tell you hours earlier to calm you down.

“I must say, Wanda, with everything going on between us at the moment, I had almost forgotten how good of a team we are while fighting.” Your eyes shot back up from your plate as you heard that comment; your gaze drifted from Wanda, who was sitting in front of your mother, to the owner of that voice, Vision. You noticed his eyes were sparkling as he was looking at the redhead, a somewhat smug grin plastered across his face; you felt your own face grimace at the sight. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact that Vision was not the blond man you had met but was, in fact, a red marker’s long-lost sibling. You couldn’t even believe the fact that he was probably the most indestructible one, which made you even more furious. Why couldn’t your mother or Wanda be made out of vibranium? As you were focusing on Vision and what he had said, you heard a soft chuckle come from the other end of the table. Your eyes drifted again and landed on Wanda; you noticed her cheeks were a light shade of pinkish, and she was almost giggling. Your eyes lingered on her for a few seconds; you watched the way her green eyes were squinting a bit as she giggled, the way you could almost feel through your gaze that those beautiful cheeks were getting warmer, the way that shade of pink made her even more beautiful in your eyes. Your heart missed a few beats at that sight before you realized that reaction wasn’t directed to you. You could feel blood boil inside your veins as you took in her reaction to his words, knowing how much she was hurting lately because of him. You couldn’t believe the way she was so nonchalantly reacting to him as if she hadn't almost let herself freeze in her own house and starved herself because of him. Something inside you was convinced that whatever happened between the two of them, that sight before your eyes was the proof that she was willing to move past it. Your hands turned into fists under the table as your eyes bore into her figure, anger rising rapidly at the exchange between the woman you loved and her ex-husband; the disappointment for how quick she was to set you aside for him washed over you. Your eyes were glued to your plate for the rest of lunch; you could hear everyone talking about missions and other things, but your head was so wrapped in the way Wanda had reacted to Vision, your heart felt heavy as every little thing she had told you in those weeks suddenly seemed fake and pointless. You thought about every little moment between the two of you, every little touch, every wish and desire for something more, for something bigger, for something with everything. You thought about how much you loved her and how much she had probably loved him, how many years of her life she had probably spent with him. How much you just didn’t stand a chance against him. 

“So, little one, what’s the next exam?” You were forced to move your gaze from your plate when you heard Tony address you; you tried your best to avoid Wanda’s eyes as you felt her looking intensely at you. You didn’t want to look into her eyes; you didn’t want to lose yourself in those beautiful green orbs. You were once again finding yourself not wanting to feel everything she could make you feel with just her presence. You finally managed to set your eyes on Tony and smiled shyly at him. 

“Oh, luckily it’s an easy one; I have a Russian exam.” You said confidently that, thanks to your mother, you were quite fluent in Russian, which meant you weren’t too stressed about the exam. You had thought about going over everything with Wanda, but now you had no idea if that would’ve even been possible. The brief exchange between her and Vision had sent your head into a deep journey through your insecurities; you were already picturing the two of them getting back together and raising the twins as the perfect little family. Your heart was hurting more and more each second that passed; your eyes had not once met hers, but you could still feel her intense gaze on you. You knew she probably had sensed everything that was going through your mind and was clearly feeling guilty about it because you knew everything you were thinking was true. You started fidgeting with your hands once again, trying to find comfort in them, trying to find something, anything else to think about.

Once lunch was finally over, your mother decided to go back home, glad you had brought the car with you, wanting nothing more than to rest in her own bed. The ride back home was filled with memories your mother had decided to share with you about her missions with The Avengers, the funny moments they had spent together, and the way they had always been there for each other. You couldn’t help but smile as she was so lost in her stories, your mind wondering about the way her heart felt about them, how light it must’ve felt when she realized she could do something good for the world, for herself. A part of you wished you had got to see her when she joined the Avengers, to have had the pleasure of seeing your mother grow into the beautiful person who had saved you. 

As your mother started to talk about the bonds between the members of the team, you waited for the inevitable; your heart clenched just at the thought of her telling you about Wanda and Vision’s love story. You could already feel your eyes watering at the thought, the idea of knowing how much Wanda had probably loved him, how much she had grown with him, how much she knew him, and how much she had discovered about herself through him. 

To your surprise, however, your mother never mentioned either of them, not even once. You tried your best not to look at her with a shocked expression as relief and gratitude filled your heart; you could definitely live another day without knowing anything about Wanda loving someone who wasn’t you. 

“Mom, you told me that Wanda joined you when she was 16, but when did she get together with Vision? And why did it end?” Suddenly you had decided to hurt yourself even more; the relief wasn’t as strong as the need to know, the need to know exactly how much Wanda had loved him, how much she had been his. You needed to know what had brought them to decide to get a divorce, what had been so serious and difficult that they couldn’t work it out after all those years together, after having had the twins. You needed to know if there could be a chance for them to get back together, which was a doubt that was slowly killing you even before that day. You saw your mother looking at you a bit confused, and you tried to hide your blush as you started to feel embarrassed because of her confusion at your sudden interest. “Well, you were talking about the different bonds in the team, and you didn’t even mention once the only relationship there was besides Tony and Pepper.” You tried your best to find some sort of excuse for your curiosity about the ex-couple, but something in your mother’s expression told you she didn’t quite believe you.

“Their relationship has always been a bit complicated, my dear. Starting from the fact that Wanda was really young and she was quite overwhelmed with everything that had already happened in her life. Vision was a new creation; technically he was even younger, but of course his mind had always been almost completely developed; however, he didn’t really know what love was like, and I don’t know how much it could be possible for him to really find out. As for their breakup… I do think it would be better for Wanda to tell you; it’s really personal and serious. It involves her magic and so much pain and sorrow; it wouldn’t be fair for me to tell you.” Your mother replied to you softly; of course her explanation didn’t satisfy you at all, but you also knew you couldn’t force her to tell you things that did not concern her. You nodded your head slowly, sighing a bit as you got out of the car. You leaned against the front door as you reached inside your bag to light a cigarette. For a brief moment, each puff you were making seemed to be able to take away everything you were feeling; for a few moments, you felt as if you were numb, which was obviously better than hurt. Your eyes were glued to the sky; the sun was going down, and the sky looked like a beautiful and romantic painting. Your mind drifted off to a world where you and Wanda could lay together on the grass, looking up at the sky and admiring the breathtaking colors giving it life. You dreamed briefly of a world where you could cuddle her as the both of you relaxed in each other’s embrace. You quickly wiped away a lonely tear that was falling onto your cheek as you made your way inside the house, suddenly drowning yourself in the silence there was inside since your mother had wanted to go to rest for a while. You couldn't find it in yourself to blame her; you were sure she must’ve been exhausted from the mission.

Trying your best not to dwell on your thoughts and desires about Wanda since you had found yourself alone, you had decided to study some more, cursing again at yourself as you realized you had missed an entire day because of everything that had happened. 

You grabbed a soft and comfy blanket and made your way to the couch, bringing your knees to your chest as you put the blanket over yourself, placing the notes on the table in front of you.

After what felt like hours on end while repeating out loud the essay you had written for the exam, you got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen, the blanket wrapped tightly around your body. Your mind was set on making yourself a cup of tea; it was obviously an excuse to take a break from your notes as well as a way to find some kind of comfort since your mind had not stopped for a second racing about Wanda and Vision. You opened the kitchen cabinet to look at the types of tea you had but jumped out of your skin as your phone rang suddenly; you placed the mug on the counter and grabbed the device, furrowing your eyebrows. 

Wanda. 

You stare at the incoming call for a bit, wondering what you really wanted to do. Obviously, you wanted to talk to her; you wanted to hear her voice, to hear the sweet tone she always addressed you with. However, a part of you was afraid. You were afraid she was calling you to end whatever there was between the two of you at that moment; you were afraid she was calling you to let you know she had realized she still had deep feelings for Vision and that they had a family together and were going to sort things out. You were worried that, while trying to fix her marriage to Vision, she was going to distance herself from you. 

Your hand shook slightly as you picked up the phone, slowly accepting the incoming call. 

“Hello, malyshka. Can you do me a favor? Open the door for me, please.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @imaginaryblogger01 @unique0003 @ciaoooooo111 @franfineashell @blueredg52 @lesbiansweet @nattysgirl @invictiusstuff @vlansy @blamelessgaynonbinary @reginassecretlover @iwantlizziebad @reignvoltage @beggingonmykneesforher @wandasglf @xxsekhmet @chiar4anna @dorabledewdroop @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @wandasslut3000 @bella423 @ivysbitcx @unadulteratedballoonduck @ppbc3 @theo-the-raven @trullykomtrikru

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!

[notanactressyayy]

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . WandaNat x fem! virgin! reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . [based on this request.] Natasha and Wanda's relationship was going well... when talking generally. — they completed each other. but something was still missing. and there was no better person to reach out to, other than you, their closest friend. will you allow them to show you a whole new concept of.. love?

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — established relationship, soft doms WandaNat, subby reader, little bit of angst on the begining if you look very closely, swearing, reader's first time, threesome, making out, Wanda's enchanted strap, breast play (r receives), penetration (r receives), oral (N receives), multiple orgasms, cum eating, pet names, aftercare.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors! feedback is highly appreciated!! <3

never thought it was so hard to write a threesome 😭

divider credits: @anitalenia . ݁₊

small droplets of sweat started to build on Wanda's hairline, ready to roll down — soft pants and huffs leaving her mouth as she desperately tries to increase the pace, the pace that was already fast — she tries to accelerate even more. to get Natasha there, like she always did. but for some reason, it wasn't working. it wasn't being of any use. no matter how she tried to change positions, or angles.. Natasha just breathed heavily, with no result.

"stop, stop.." Natasha pants out and pats Wanda's shoulder, multiple times. "stop, baby. 'ts okay."

the woman reluctantly slows down her movements and groans, a mixture of tiredness and frustration.. and a little bit of sadness. right now, she was feeling so, so incapable, worthless. since when did that happen? since when a woman couldn't even bring her girlfriend an orgasm?

eventually, she pulls the strap out of her, making Natasha hiss quietly due sensitivity. she turns on her back and removes the strap off herself, waving her hand to disenchant it. her hand reaches out and puts the toy on the nightstand. the witch's eyes squeeze tight, clearing her throat as she does her best to catch her breath again.

Natasha of course, didn't need Wanda to tell her how she was feeling. as a spy, and like anybody else in this situation, she knew it. the russian weakly turns on her side and wraps her arm around Wanda's waist, placing her head on her shoulder and looking up into her eyes. deep down, both of them knew this wasn't physical.. it was phychological. lately, whenever it came to sex, both their minds couldn't completely focus on each other — and it wasn't fault of either of them. their toughts always wandered to her, that girl.. you.

"i'm sorry," Wanda whispers, wrapping her arms around Natasha and pulling her to herself. she sighs heavily and nuzzles into her soft red locks. "i'm sorry."

her heart was at war. battling to decide between giving into her desires, or holding back, in respect to Natasha. she just didn't know that the russian felt the same way. both of them did towards you. you're their closest friend, not an avenger, but an ordinary girl. thinking about that, it made sense — two people with a fucked up past, heavy emotional baggage, needed someone like you in their lives. someone soft, gentle, almost innocent, to say at least. the way you dressed, the way you smelled. always captivated the redheads. in the middle of all the chaos they called life, you were their beautiful, sweet escape of routine.

"don't apologize." Natasha replies, voice low and husky as she traces imaginary patterns on Wanda's chest. "i can't read minds like you do, so why don't you tell me what you're thinking about?"

Wanda chuckles at the remark, and turns her head to look at her girlfriend. she takes a slow, shaky breath again. she knows she can't hide anything from Natasha, and wouldn't try to. "look. can you listen to everything i got to say, before making any conclusions or saying anything else?"

Natasha nods, giving her a small, genuine smile, that showed patience. so Wanda started talking again.

"it's.. it's not easy to talk about this, i admit. it's like a taboo, and stuff.. we've been together for three years now, and i love you. i love you so much. i always tell you that and i always mean it. we help each other, we work together, you're the perfect fit for me, Nat. but.. lately, i've been thinking a lot about.."

"i know." Natasha interrupts anyway, and her smile doesn't vanish. "i know you have. i see it. and god, I think about her too."

surprise immediately shows in Wanda's wide eyes, and she exhales the air she was holding. relief washed over her being, even if Natasha hadn't elaborated yet.

"Wanda, darling." she chuckles, nuzzling closer and placing her hand on the woman's cheek. "we struggle sometimes. and it's not our fault. she's a ray of sunshine. it's everything we need, don't you think?"

"are you saying that we should consider.." Wanda says, in a softer tone.. her hand finds it's way to Natasha's back, nails tracing her spine. the mere thought already got her in a better mood. "inviting.. her.. in?"

"yeah." Natasha bits on her bottom lip. both of them had never tried a threesome before, but it seemed like a good idea. it felt like a good idea. if they both had thoughts and maybe even feelings for you, why don't act on them? "let's invite her tomorrow. tomorrow night."

"oh, Natasha." Wanda chuckles, understanding the implication. she leans down to peck Natasha's lips, and looks at her with a new sparkle in her eyes. "are you sure? completely sure about this? i never, ever want to hurt you, or make things weird between us—"

"we trust her. and basically, the only reason that we've been failing is because we want her and don't act on it." Natasha raises her eyebrows and pokes Wanda's nose, then wraps her arms around her neck. "and also. she's not a child. we'll talk about everything, and if it doesn't work out, we'll just seek another solution."

they both stay silent for a moment, and Wanda agrees. she giggles to herself, pulling the blankets over them and snuggling against Natasha, their legs tangling. they went to sleep happily, the tension from before eased because of you. they would just wait for the next day, and hope for the best.

₊˚⊹♡

the word to describe what you were feeling in that moment was: anticipation.

Natasha and Wanda had never invited you over to their place like this: at night, with no special occasion. they had told you they wanted to see you again, and to talk about a few things. you had absolutely no clue about what it was, so jumping to the most probable conclusion was what you did: a casual catch up.

yeah, for sure.

Wanda was the one to open the door after you knocked, and she shamelessly looked at you from head to toe, which got your eyes to snap open. you cleared your throat as she took in the sight of you, in a small, pink dress that covered just a little more than your ass — hair falling down your shoulders, a light makeup.

"Natasha," she calls out, tilting her head towards you. "you gotta see this,"

okay, you were so confused. first, one of your friends that was taken, clearly looks at you in a not so friendly way, and now, she's calling her girlfriend to do the same? you stand there, flustered, a little disoriented.

the other redhead comes. she opens the door wider so she could see you better, and stops in track when her eyes land on your figure. they exchange looks, and silently communicate — as if saying, why didn't we think of this before?

"come in, sweetheart." the russian says and allows you inside the house, closing the door right after.

you observe as the two of them talk between themselves, quickly finishing so they could return their attention to you. they notice how nervous the greeting had made you, and decide to get straight to the business. they sit on the couch, letting a little space between them and patting on it, so you could sit. you place your purse on the entrance counter and chuckle nervously, then walk towards them and sit where they wanted you to.

"so... hi!" you finally speak, still feeling a little awkward. "uhm.. is everything okay with you two?"

"absolutely." Wanda nods, shifting on her seat. her knee brushes against yours as she places her hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your jawline. "you just look so beautiful right now, we couldn't resist."

as she speaks, Natasha's hand lands on your thigh, and you were absolutely sure you looked redder than a tomato right now. but it still felt wrong. you gently placed your hand above both of theirs to still their touches.

"i don't get it."

"alright, dorogaya. that's the whole reason we invited you over." Natasha says and Wanda nods, allowing the russian to explain. "first, we want you to know that is absolutely alright if you don't feel comfortable with this. you can just say 'no' and leave, we're not forcing you into something you don't want to."

by this moment, just with those vague words, combined with their previous actions, you had a slight idea of what this was about, and it made you shiver. ever since you met them, you had a little crush on both, but they were avengers. superheroes, powerful, and older than you. they're gorgeous women that unfortunately were taken— well, you felt lucky just for having their friendship.

"we've been thinking about you. a lot." Natasha admits with a deep breath and purposefully scoots closer, making you almost a little sandwich with them. "the way you talk to us.. the way you look at us whenever we're together."

"like right now. the way your eyes are sparkling." Wanda breathes, her arms sneaking around your waist and her chin on your shoulder.

"you're so perfect.. so precious to us, detka." Natasha whispers and wraps her arms around you too, tilting her head and pressing a kiss on Wanda's forehead, then on yours. "so we want to know, if you're okay with trying out with us."

a deep sigh leaves you, and you melt like a puddle between the women. your weight leans on Wanda's body, and your eyes travel from one to the other. your defenses vanished, completely, and the thought of this being.. uncommon, was buried deep down in your mind.

"trying out?" your voice sounds more like a whimper, and your hand grabs Natasha's wrist, that still rested on your thigh.

"yeah.. trying out." Wanda whispers on your ear, her hand turning your hair into a makeshift ponytail, exposing your neck for them. "just for tonight.. then we'll give you time to think."

"but i never.." you stutter, feeling Natasha's warm breath on your neck, as her lips began trailing kisses there — right above your pulse. "i-i've never.."

"it's okay." Wanda breathes in your ear, watching as Natasha took her sweet time to taste you, feel the softness of your skin. "we're gonna take care of you."

"i never.. i never had.." you continue, voice becoming weaker and weaker. "i never went beyond kisses.."

that was new information. Natasha slowly pulled away from your neck and exchanged a look with Wanda. so you were still a virgin. that just turned them on even more. they'd be the first ones to play with you, make you their good girl.

"god, sweetheart." the witch purrs, her hands cupping your waist and giving it a little squeeze. "you have no idea what you're doing to us."

the action coaxes a soft, needy sound out your throat, head lolling backwards against her shoulder.

"please, baby. let us have you." Natasha begs. you don't gotta be asked twice.

₊˚⊹♡

the room was dark — burgundy walls, the yellow light of the dim lamp casting on the furniture and being the only source of illumination. you couldn't put in words the way you felt. Natasha, naked, the freckles on her pale skin on display for you. toned breasts, muscular arms. red hair naturally wavy, not straightened like she usually had it. she looked like a true goddess. her gaze, hungry yet tender, had you frozen in place.

Wanda's hands guided you towards the bed — her chest against your back, an amused chuckle leaving her. you looked so innocent. it was clear you never even thought of the possibility of that.

"look at her," Wanda coos. Natasha's eyes remain glued on you, but travel to your body as Wanda starts to slowly get that dress off you. her pointer and thumb pull the zipper down and the straps fall down your shoulders, revealing your bra. she kisses your shoulder and places her palms flat on your stomach, letting them roam downwards, to your hips, and pulling the pink fabric of the dress down, as it pools around your feet. the woman hum together in satisfaction, being allowed to see your half-naked body. "such a precious little thing. now go with Nat and watch me strip."

you couldn't help but blush a little bit under their gaze, and the way they were addressing to you. doing as you're told, you climb on the bed, and Nat spreads her legs. your heart hammers against your ribcage. she only did that so you could lay against her chest, but accidentally — or not — your eyes landed on her intimacy, and the slick arousal that was almost dripping down her thighs.

"oh my god, Natasha." you moan, allowing her to pull your back against her chest. she smirks, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside.

now, it's Wanda's turn to get the unnecessary clothes off her. she firstly discard her blouse, then her jeans, and lingerie — she uses her foot to kick the pile of clothes away, and walks to the nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the.. toy. it does get you a little tense. but they had a way of showing you there was no reason to be. with a wave of her hand, the strap is enchanted, and she will be able to feel everything. everything she dreamed of with you.

"we will take good care of you, kotenok." Natasha whispers and grabs your chin, tilting your head up — and kissing you.

a kiss never felt so good. throughout your whole life, you never had a kiss like this one — warm, slow, needed. her tongue mingled with yours, slender fingers tangling in your hair to keep you in place. Wanda watches with a hungry, almost predatory gaze as she sees her two favourite women making out. she climbs on the bed with you and hooks her fingers on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down — your hips instinctively lifting to make her work easier. you were slowly letting yourself go.

Natasha releases your lips, panting. her hands pull you back even more against herself, pressing your body against hers and go to your breasts, kneading the skin, slowly, massaging them, knowing exactly how to pleasure you. you moan sweetly, throwing your head back against her shoulder as her fingers pinch your hard nipples.

"that's it, baby." Wanda hums, satisfied with the scene. she liked that you were comfortable with them, which meant she could do everything she wanted.

you don't even realize as they start to adjust your body, the positions — Natasha brings her knees up and spread them a little, Wanda bringing your legs around Natasha's, so you were completely spread and open.

"oh, fuck." she says, knees digging into the mattress as she takes a good look between your legs. "such a beautiful pussy. can't believe we're the only ones to have it."

her words make you gasp, and your back arches a little — but before you could do anything, her cock was already stretching you out, with little effort. the woman groans, placing her hands on your waist and hovering you. she leans up and kisses Natasha, a low chuckle leaving her as she whispers. "so warm and wet. she's a perfect girl."

"we're not gonna let you go," Natasha whispers in your ear. her arms wrap around your waist, securing you, and with that, Wanda starts moving.

her movements are gentle — not too slow, not too fast, showing you how it was to be deliciously filled up. the new, foreign sensations consume you, breath coming out in soft gasps. your eyes look at the redhead who was fucking you, half-lidded, in pure bliss, adoration. the strap drags up your sensitive walls, until the tip was the only thing inside of you, then pushes back in, discovering spots you had never found before with your own fingers.

"oh my god," you grip Wanda's shoulder with one hand, and intertwine your fingers of the free hand with one of Natasha's that held your waist. your hips buck upwards, matching the movements with Wanda's cock pounding inside you. "feel so good,"

"you're so tight, detka," Wanda mutters, feeling her climax starting to build up. she had to speed up, had to feel you more, clenching around her so perfectly.

"s-shit... ah.." you moan and arch your back, doing your best not to fall apart that quickly. but Natasha doesn't allow you to hold back.

her hand slides down your stomach, to where Wanda was connected with you, and starts to rub lazy circles on your clitoris, looking up at her girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. "you can come for us,"

"i'm close too," Wanda moans, head lolling back as she grips your hips tighter, chasing after her so needed release, which doesn't take long to come.

your vision starts to blur a little, not being able to focus on anything specific. your eyelids fall shut, and all the sounds around fade — the first real orgasm you ever had washing over you. an almost pornographic moan echoes on the room, coming from your throat, and your legs tremble around Natasha's — cum coating Wanda's strap, juices rolling down your legs and mixing with Natasha's who was under you. Wanda's climax comes right after and she quickly pulls out, painting your stomach white as you laid there, dumb and cute, drained.

Wanda rolls on her back and closes her eyes, the high still present. she hadn't felt that good in so, so long, she had missed it so much. now it's Natasha's turn to take control.

she carefully lays you down next to her and licks Wanda's release from your stomach, missing the taste of it. she takes some on her fingers and point them at your mouth. "open up,"

you blush softly, opening your mouth and welcoming Natasha's fingers in. your tongue swirls around her digits, swallowing obediently.

"good job, malyshka." she praises, cradling the side of your head and pressing a kiss on your forehead. you look at her up and down, then weakly sits up on the bed.

"wanna taste you too, Natty," you say, and it drives her crazy.

undoubtedly, Natasha was more than dripping, and yes, she wanted you to teach you how to eat a woman out. she leans back against the headboard of the bed and intertwines her fingers with her tired girlfriend, winking down at her. she spreads her legs. "come over here, princess."

your legs, still shakily, dig into the mattress and you settle yourself on your knees, hands holding Natasha's thighs apart as your face approaches her core. she was so sensitive and achy.. and you'd repay her, for everything she had done. it shocked her, you didn't show inexperience — your tongue licked a long strip, slipping between her folds and brushing inside her, stimulating her g-spot and making her mouth agape. her fingers gently tug on your hair, pulling you closer, pressing your face against her cunt. your nose brushes her clit, and it doesn't take long for Natasha to cum too.

"oh, malyshka.." she stutters out between moans and whimpers, hips bucking upwards as she released. "s-such a.. perfect.. mhm.. girl.."

you swallow her sweet juices, pressing a kiss on her inner thigh and pulling your face back. just by watching both of their expressions, a tired and proud expression showed on your face, knowing you did a great job.

₊˚⊹♡

now, the digital clock on the nightstand showed 2AM. the sheets were crumpled, blankets all over the floor, long forgotten. you laid there, naked and vulnerable on the bed, waiting for Wanda and Natasha to come back to the room.

when they did, they were both wearing silky robes — Natasha held aspirin and a bottle of water, and Wanda, a cloth, and an additional robe that they hoped would fit you.

they walk towards you and Natasha places the items on the nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed. she carefully handles your body and pulls you onto her lap, holding you closely, your side against her chest. you felt warm again, fuzzy, happy.

"you were perfect, sweetheart." Wanda smiles, carefully spreading your legs and using the cloth to clean the sticky cum still there. you whimper, feeling a little stingy and sore.

"we got aspirin for tomorrow, in case you need it." Natasha grabs the water bottle and opens it, bringing it up to your lips, helping you sip on it. "there you go..."

"now, we'll sleep. and tomorrow we are gonna prepare you a nice warm bath." Wanda chuckles and puts away the cloth, closing your legs afterwards.

you all settle on the bed comfortably again, having to grab the blanket from the floor and cover you up. you sigh softly, lying between them and gathering courage to speak.

"was this just... a playtime?"

that question was expected, and they were ready for it. they sweetly smile and replied in sync.

"you are our missing piece."

para o anon que fez o pedido: mto mto obrigada!! eu sei que adicionei várias coisas, porém eu precisava de um contexto para encaixar o seu pedido. espero que tenha ficado bom! 🥹

[endo-bunny]

Sit Down Now and Rest

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Description: You had anxiety and depression, and Tony and Bruce were more than happy with getting you anxiety meds the moment that you asked. When you stop taking your meds, your mental health plummets and spirals as well as your physical health, and everyone notices. Don't worry though, they're there for you.

Pairing: (Platonic) Avengers x Teen!Reader

Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, sickness, fainting, dizziness, taking meds(both medicated and just vitamins/iron supplements), dehydration, insomnia, depressive and hurtful thoughts, reader doesn't talk very much in this, nicknames(Kiddo, Kid, Hun)

Word Count: 1,627

Note: I may or may not have written this with too much of myself being present… But it's fine! I also wrote this at like 2 in the morning so it's kinda rough but I just needed to get this typed out so here ya go! Also, the characters might be kinda ooc because I haven't watched any marvel movies in a little while but I've been hyper focused on fics with them lately so yea. And I am working on my tlou and tech fics, it's just hard to find the motivation to write them, but don't worry, I'm working on em.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

You were quick to notice that you stopped taking your meds. You knew that they helped you, but you couldn't get yourself to start the habit of taking them again. You wanted to, most definitely, but you couldn't. Every day was the same. Wake up, look at your meds, contemplate taking them, saying you'll take them later, go train, eat, and then not take them.

You also stopped taking them at night too. You had even set alarms so that you'd remember to take them, but it didn't help at all. Natasha was the first to notice that something was up, being the closest one with you. When she realized that something wasn't quite right, she made sure to keep a close eye on you. She was quick to pick up how dizzy you looked when you'd get up, sometimes not even being able to stay standing before you crumbled back onto the couch. You'd always play it off as if you just lost your footing but she and everyone else knew that that wasn't the case.

One morning you had gotten up much later than you had recently been getting up. When you checked the time, it was around two in the afternoon. You got up and went to the kitchen, feeling extremely hungry after forgetting, and also just not wanting dinner the night prior. When you arrived in the kitchen, Tony was there. He had kind of taken up the father role in your life.

The moment he saw that you had finally arose, he was quick to make a snarky comment in good fun, “Ah! The beast has finally awoken from their slumber, now off they go to find their beauty.”

You only roll your eyes, ignoring him. You felt exhausted, even though you got close to ten hours of sleep seeing as you fell asleep around 4 in the morning. You couldn't find anything easy to fix or that looked appetizing in the fridge or pantry so you just opted for a bottle of water that you would only take a sip or two of then leave with your other five almost full water bottles on your nightstand.

Before you could go back to the confines of your room, Tony had to ask you a question, “ Hey kiddo, did you take your meds?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting him to ask seeing as he hasn't asked in a real long time.

“Oh yea! I, um, took them earlier but fell back asleep. Yea, that's what I did!”

You try to make it seem like you weren't lying through your teeth, but weren't very successful because of how exhausted you were. However, before Tony could confront you, you book it to your room. You hide there for the rest of the day, not coming out for Dinner. Steve had come by to tell you that dinner was ready but you told him that you weren't very hungry as you just kept your

on the book that you had your nose in. You kept your light on all night, not feeling tired.

The next morning, Nat knocked on your door around eight, coming to get you so that you could train with her. When she opened your door, she saw you laying on your back staring up at the ceiling. You looked exhausted and had dark circles under your eyes. When Bat opened the door, you flung up in surprise. You hadn't heard her knocking so you weren't expecting for the door to randomly open. You couldn't tell who it was at first because your vision went fuzzy black as your body tried to accommodate the sudden movement that you caused. Nat waited for you to acknowledge her.

When you did after a couple seconds, you looked over at the time, confused. It had just been two the last time you looked at the clock. How could it be eight all of the sudden? You were brought out of your thoughts by Natasha trying to talk to you. You zoned back in, giving her a questioning look.

“I said, are you ok? You look exhausted Hun. I came by to get ya to come train but it looks like you need to rest for a couple days.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready and I'll be down and we can get to work in no time!”

She gave you a skeptical look but nodded, closing your door behind her.

When you got down to the training room, Bucky and Steve were there with Natasha. They smiled upon seeing you walk in. However, Bucky and Steve's bright smiles dropped upon looking at your figure. You were slouched, tired eyes not fully open and your eye bags were extremely dark.

Bucky was the first to point it out, “Hey Kid, you ok? You aren't looking too good.”

You only shrugged, your body aching and your throat feeling scratchy and sore for some reason.

As you're sparring with Natasha, you continuously have to stop the match because you go into coughing fits. As finish with your last coughing fit you go back to Natasha, but she's packing her stuff up.

“Wait, where are you going?” You're voice comes rather harsh and rude as you ask the red head.

“I think you should rest for the rest of the day Hun. I'll come check on you in a little while. But go take your meds and also some cough syrup and eat something.”

You didn't say anything as you grabbed your stuff and walked back to your room. This was stupid. It was just a little cold. You can still fight. You need to train. Deep down though you knew you needed to listen to her and do as she said. In the end, you don't. You go back to your room, take a sip or two of water, get a small snack and then sit down in the living room with a book.

You try to read it, but you can't stay focused for long enough to. Your mind is spiraling and racing. You kept replaying how training went. You were so pathetic. And rude. How could you be so rude? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You slam the book down onto the sofa, huffing.

You hadn't noticed that some of the others had joined you in the living room. They look up at you, surprised. They weren't used to seeing you like this. You tried to get up quickly, wanting to get away from this embarrassing situation.

The moment you get up, the world goes black, buzzing and ringing is the only thing you can hear as you collapse. You feel something picking you up and setting you down on the couch. You blink your eyes a couple times, slowly feeling sensation being restored in your body. You look around you and see that Bruce is coming over with a damp cloth and water. Nat has your head resting in her lap and Tony has your hand in his. They all look worried as they stare down at you. You hear gasped as Steve and Bucky walk in.

Questions are being thrown at you, too fast for you to comprehend. You instinctively put your hands on your ears, feeling overwhelmed. They all quiet down upon seeing this. Tony is the one to ask the questions from then on.

“Hey, it's ok. We're sorry, didn't mean to overwhelm ya like that. Can ya sit up?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed now. Tony nodded and Nat helped you sit up, allowing you to lean against her.

“Ok, drink some water, you're ok,” Tony hands you the water that Bruce had brought over as Bruce is wiping your face with the cold damp cloth.

“Ya feeling better?”

“Ya, I'm fine.”

“Have you been taking your meds, kid?”Tony doesn't hold back, knowing what it looks like when you don't take the meds that have been helping you produce what your body needs.

You sheepishly look down at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. You inhale sharply before shaking your head no.

They all sigh, Natasha being the one to talk this time, “Why haven't you been taking your meds, Hun?”

“I-I just don't want to… I don't like the feeling.”

They looked at each other, wondering what to say. As they look at each other, you go to stand up, but they make sure that you don't get up.

“Sit down now and rest,” Bucky's voice comes from behind you, his hands still on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry…” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

“You're forgiven kiddo, but ya gotta start taking your meds again.” Steve comes over and sits on the other side of you as he speaks.

“I know.”

“How bout I take my medication with ya? God knows that I haven't been taking it as much as I should be,” Tony chuckles as he tries to negotiate with you.

You didn't know if it would actually help you but you were open to the idea.

“Good, drink some more water. Now what do you want to watch? Hm? TV's all yours,” Tony stood up, giving you the TV remote as everyone decided to sit down on the couch.

You picked your comfort movie as you snuggled up with Steve and Nat. Tony had gotten you some actual food, and by the time the movie was over, you had drank all the water, ate all the food, fell asleep, and almost everyone else had fallen asleep as well. You felt safe with the people that cared about you all around you. You knew that this would be a journey, but you also knew that you weren't alone.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Tag list: @fakegingerrights @macchiato-dreaming22 @silnebula

[lokiswifeduh]

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

masterlist

Taglist:

@yeahyeahyeah23-blog @rinniereads123 @shortnloud @julvrs @unaxv @sapphirebarnes

[romanoffsbish]

My Tummy Hurts

WandaNat x Reader

Warnings: Injured R / Hospital

It was an easy mission, so why were you here? | WC: 2,245

"Hey guys," you greeted your lovers with a smile, or so you thought, but all they got was an odd grimace.

"Detka?" You truly smiled then, but no communal joy followed as you slurred and pointed, "that's me."

"What the fuck happened to Y/N?" Natasha turned to accuse the men stood behind you, still on the quinjet.

——

The men immediately flew into a panic, all saying the same thing—you were fine, albeit worded differently. Natasha was seconds away from wringing their necks but her focus shifted back to you, who was now pouting and gripping at your burning stomach. "Wands?"

Wanda smiled at you, "What's the matter honey?"

"My tummy hurts," you uncharacteristically whined, laughter normally would've bellowed from behind you, Tony never one to miss a chance to tease someone, but then you swayed into Natasha's prepared arms and Wanda was quick to levitate you three to the medbay.

—

"Appendicitis?!" You exasperated for the third time, "are you fucking kidding me?!" Wanda shook her head, eyes empathetic as she reached for your hand, in the meanwhile Natasha chuckled over a spoonful of your lime jello—traitor that she apparently was. "Get out."

This caught the Russian's attention, her eyes widened at the malice in your tone and she was scared shitless to have to leave your side. You didn't mean it, as you wanted them close, but she didn't need to know that.

Natasha plopped the half finished jello down and moved her chair even closer, her hand reached for your free one and her heart settled when you let her grab it. "I—," she started but you just shook your head and smiled softly, "just don't laugh at me again, capeesh?"

"Now," you moved right on, the disdain back in your tone, "I just got back from space after karate chopping a pile of goop," you stole your hands back and gave your lovers a show of what took place before. Natasha trying her damndest to keep her laughter in, "Fucking sick as shit but now I'm taken out by a useless organ?"

"Mhm," Wanda hummed in amusement, "Bruce ran some tests and thinks that the creature you 'karate chopped' released a toxin into your body that caused the upset in your stomach and ruined your day home."

"Home," you repeated, voice soft as you reached for both of their hands again, squeezing to really get across to your lovers the sentiment of how great the drugs were. Not that you weren't a softie, because you were indeed the softest of the three, just never this publicly.

Natasha and Wanda shared a bit of eye contact before the witch was gone, you pouted at her absence but it was short lived when the assassin pecked your lips. "She's going to get the doctor malyshka, get the all clear so we can take you upstairs." You grinned.

"Yeah," she chuckled, "we knew you'd love that."

—

When you came to next, not even remembering falling asleep again, you immediately recognized the room. It was just as you left it all those years back, just with a few new boxes of clutter Wanda held onto and stored in here, and you were also lying in a more sterile bed.

Just as you tried to sit up you felt a hand on your chest keeping you down. "Wait, I'll sit you up Agent Y/L/N."

A frown naturally overtook your face at the unfamiliar sight of a blonde woman in a white coat, but before you  could even consider taking her up on an identity the door flew open and your girlfriends ushered her out.

"Wa—," before you could finish speaking a spoonful of bone broth was shoved into your mouth. Judging by the sunsetting in the sky you knew it was already the following day, which was admittedly slightly alarming. Yet your urge to inquire the time flew out the window as the bite of food kicked the hunger in your body up.

After scarfing down the bowl you begged for more, but not of the soup. “Y/N no, I am not feeding you ice—.”

“I am dying,” you dramatized, “I need a pint to live!”

Wanda was about to admonish you for all the begging and humoring of death, but then she caught sight of your pouting lip and wet eyes, so of course she melted. Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics before she knowingly slipped out of the room to collect the first outlandish request of many, she could only assume.

When she returned the atmosphere was calmer, you were telling Wanda, who was sat at your bedside with a full smile, about the moments leading up to the fight.

“Tony, resident idiot that he is, caused the power in the entire city to go out for the sake of his suit mods, which made our attempts until then to stay hidden wasted.”

“Sounds about par for the course,” Nat teased her way into the conversation and you looked to her with a brighter smile at the sight of the ben and jerry pint.

The women took turns replying to you and spooning the ice cream into your mouth. You talked with a full mouth but Wanda let it go each time, a bit too relieved to still have you here for her to deem it worth scolding.

It wasn’t until the witch could see, in your eyes, just how tired you were that she decided to stop letting it all slide. It was sweet the way you tried to stay awake just to talk to them, but once the woman set the empty container down and wiped your lips clean she was inconspicuously putting you to sleep. Her words of reply faded into hums as she mindlessly traced her fingers over the exposed skin of your arms until your words aimed at Natasha faded out and became a snore.

—

The pair had left you sleeping in your hospice bed about an hour ago, it was hard to convince the Dr on duty to let you leave the ward after surgery but Tony's check book came out and now the woman is settled in a room across the hall for the night. Unnervingly.

The woman watched you sleep for about ten minutes after having administered your medicine and feeding you a pint of ice cream, much to your delight, Wanda's dismay and Natasha's envy. They'd made sure Friday locked you in before they headed down to eat dinner.

The natural redhead huffed, again, as she pushed the mushy green beans around her plate, ignoring the red tinted look of agitation Wanda sent her way. "Bros'."

(knock it off / quit)

"Nyet," the redhead grumbled over a bite of potatoes.

"She needs her rest," Wanda decidedly empathized.

"I missed her," the redhead sighed, "we were going to finish the bannister garden and cuddle under stars."

The witch felt a similar ache, that mission you were on took an entire month, you were fine too, but no longer. Wanda moved her chair closer, leaning her head on the redheads shoulder, dainty fingers wrapped around a muscular bicep, both woman shivered. For a moment the silence was peaceful, but then the witch sighed, "She was going to help me plant in said garden."

Natasha took a big bite of her steak and got lost in thought about how you somehow perfectly fit into their dynamic. You build things and spar with her, then go garden while discussing your latest read with Wanda. Like Nat, you can't cook but like Wanda you can bake.

"Our multifaceted, badass girlfriend," Wanda coo'd seconds later and Natasha snorted, "taken out by an appendix." Wanda shoved her shoulder but chuckled alongside her as they both silently regarded you with a different fondness. Natasha loved your goofy side.

The first time she'd met you was the worst day of her free life, Wanda was off on a dangerous mission and communications had been lost in the worst of it. You were her only hope as you worked tirelessly to get her back online. Her hands were shaking against her will, so she had to guide you, shields top agent, instead.

They called you her shadow, it was rumored around the base that you studied her fighting and mirrored her in not only strength but intellect. Unfortunately for you that meant being woken up only hours after returning from your own tumultuous mission. To meet your idol and crush while drooling into your pillow wasn't exactly pleasant, nor ideal when you're doing it to reconnect her with her girlfriend, it hurt.

Yet you persevered on through the awkward moments of silence and smiled when the comms cracked to life.

"Agent Romanoff, the comms are—."

"Natasha?" Wanda coughed and the redhead laughed emotionally, you were alarmed to see the Black Widow cry but it was endearing above all else. "Detka, I am so happy to hear your voice—fuck, I-I love you Wanda Maximoff, moya krasivaya detka."

Judging by the gasp on the other end you realized you were trapped in an intimate moment with them. It was beautiful and unfairly gut wrenching all at once. Soon enough it was Wanda's turn to cry out, "I love you too Natasha Romanoff; more than anything."

It was sweet, intimate, and then you sneezed. Glaring green eyes found yours and you could only shrug. "You kidnapped me from my bed, brought me to a room layered thickly in dust and didn't consider this."

"Natasha, what's going on?" The redhead smirked at you and whispered, "Wanda, meet Y/N, my stalker."

Your eyes widened at the lightweight true call out but kept your cool all the same. "You kidnapped me."

"You're free to go agent," she softly called out, it was a bit of a shock to see her this way when her reputation held a different tone. Just as you went to walk by she grabbed your arm, grip soft as she squeezed. Your attention shifted up and she smiled. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you shrugged it off nonchalantly but she knew you meant it sincerely. Just as you were almost out the door you turned and teased. "Thank me with an invitation to the wedding. I've experienced a Wanda party in full effect; I'll have the salmon."

Wanda appreciated your softer side the most.

One time, just before they asked you to be theirs, when you thought no one was watching, you had an entire conversation with their cat, Liho. Scratching his chin, feeling the purr of his gratitude on your fingertips as you animatedly discussed your day aloud with him.

"Natty and Wands are so considerate," you sighed dreamily, "and sweet—I woke up to breakfast and lunch made for me as if they weren't really busy."

You paused, hand reaching out to scoop the teetering feline up so he could sleep as you spoke a bit softer, "Then they both gave me a hug in greeting and I nearly couldn't breathe because of just how stunning they both are, no makeup and in their matching pjs."

The way you spoke made Wanda smile, her heart nearly leapt from her chest at your pure adoration.

An adorable groan fell from your lips before you shamelessly concluded, "you're the luckiest kitty on earth, with the unobtainable milfs of my dreams."

Wanda walked away with a pep in her step as she went to seek Natasha out with the good news. When the elevator dinged you released a breath shortly after, hoping now that they'd make a move as you pet their cat that would soon adopt you as his favorite.

Truth be told, everyone in the room favorited you.

—

A smile took over your face as you heard your lovers laughing through the vents of your old room back from when you were single but shared a floor with them. It was endearing, hearing the warmth and deepness of their well established connection still burning bright.

It took you awhile to feel welcome in their dynamic, even with the invitation; what really helped you along the way was the sneaky moments like these. Where they thought they were quietly simping over you but you caught the whispered words and sweetest giggles.

Hearing it then helped you to regard them as safe, because they were talking out their complex feelings. How they felt about the other having these feelings, neither was offended by the other and it shocked you. Their flattery was not lost on you with their willingness to even risk the beautiful thing they already had going.

Then to hear it now, and have it solidified that even in moments of upset they'd find a way back to that same peace within seconds—they're safe, and you are loved.

Something you knew well, and felt as they gave up on sleeping without you that night—against that doctors orders of course; when you swiftly looked up from your book the women were stood at the door with sheepish smiles. None of you spoke, all very much aware of the state of codependence that exists within your dynamic.

Natasha yawned dramatically and Wanda huffed before she snapped her fingers. Soon two cots were beside your bed once the red mist had cleared, all wires adjusted accordingly before they laid down, took your book and covered up, then slid a hand each into yours.

"Goodnight," you yawned, "I love and missed you too."

[elixirina]

WELCOME & GOODBYE — natasha romanoff x gn!avenger!reader

in which... you thought you and natasha had something special. did you do something wrong?

warnings... angst (are you even surprised?), regular avengers mission stuff, tony yelling at the reader :(, and natasha being lwk mean, hurt/no comfort, lwk unrequited love, lwk not proofread

note... "Hey! If your requests are still open: Reader, who has been an avenger and known Natasha for over a year. Who has stayed up late at night talking about random shit and comforting each other for a good portion of that. Who, then, during what seems like a normal late night conversation turns into Natasha saying, "We're not close" after reader expressed they'd feel devastated if something happened to her. Reader then shutting down and basically becoming an empty husk. Maybe becoming reckless during missions. Thanks for considering! I enjoy your stories!" - i really liked this request because yall know i love angst, so enjoy this!! maybe part two if you guys like it.

from where you stand, the avengers tower feels impossibly tall, it's gleaming facade of steel and glass catching the fading sunlight. the large 'A' at the top glows faintly, its light cutting through the hazy sky. it's meant to be a symbol of hope, but up close, it feels colder than you imagined. more fortress than home.

as you step inside, the hum of technology greets you, soft and unrelenting, like the tower itself is alive. the blue-tinted lights along the walls seem to strip the warmth from the space, casting everything in shades of gray.

the corridors stretch endlessly, polished floors reflecting your rather hesitant footsteps. there's a quiet here that always feels unnatural, like the kind of silence you expect from the aftermath of an argument or just before something breaks. when you pause to glance out of a window, the view is so breathtaking.

new york city sprawls beneath you, glittering and alive. but it feels distant today, like you're watching a movie on mute. the labs you pass are buzzing with soft whirs and beeps, glowing screens filed with data you can't even begin to understand.

it's impressive, but also intimidating, a constant reminder of just how much responsibility rests on the shoulders of the people who walk these halls.

you were on your way to your own quarters. why did you feel so lost? it felt like all the walls were closing in on you.

the halls are quiet, too quiet. every one of your footsteps echoes, too loud against the polished floors. the air feels heavy, as if it carries the weight of every mission, every mistake, every sacrifice, every one of your faults. you pass by the living quarters, sleek and sterile, designed for convenience rather than comfort.

the common areas are empty, filled with untouched furniture and the faint scent of coffee long gone cold.

it's as though the building itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to shatter the silence.

and yet, it's not the tower that makes your lifestyle bearable. it isn't always the satisfaction of helping people. it's her.

natasha.

she has a way of grounding you, of cutting through the weight of it all with a single glance. it's not just her presence, though that alone feels like enough to keep the walls from closing in; it's the way she sees you. really sees you, even when you don't want to be seen. in a place that feels so impossibly vast and yet so claustrophobic, she's the one thing that feels solid, real.

it's in the way she moves, effortless but deliberate, as if she belongs here in a way no one else does. her voice, calm and steady, has a way of softening the sharp edges of the tower. when she's around, the cold steel walls feel a little less harsh, the silence a little less suffocating.

she doesn't need to say much--she never does--but somehow, she always knows what you need to hear.

the tower is still the same--tall, unyielding, and distant. but when she's near, it feels a little less like a cage. when she looks at you, it's like the weight of everything doesn't matter as much. it's not that the burden disappears; it's just that, with her, it feels a little lights. a little easier to carry.

it's been like that since day one. being a shield agent was all you thought your life was worth. you helped out, sure, but the credit wasn't always given to you. when you were offered a spot as an avenger, you found it impossible to believe.

they could've chosen anyone, yet you made the cut.

you accepted, of course, and the moment you started, everything was amazing. maybe it was the adrenaline rush. but after a couple months in, you were drained. suffocating. the whole experience felt alienating.

you and natasha hit it off immediately, just casually finding different times to talk. those conversations would go on for hours, the two of you never finding somewhere to stop. and if you did, it's due to the fact that you've fallen asleep together.

those moments with her were something you cherished ever so deeply. you couldn't see your day go on without them.

the conversations ranged from lighthearted banter about clint's terrible taste in music to heavier topics--the kind of raw truths that only surfaced when the world fell asleep, and your walls could come down.

natasha's walls had always been higher, sturdier, but even she had let a few cracks show over the months. she'd told you about her childhood, her regrets, and her fears, her voice steady even when her words were not. in turn, you'd shared your own burdens, feeling safe in the quiet connection you thought you had with her.

being able to come back to the tower after a rough mission and being comforted immediately after made your heart want to explode. after a while, you just couldn't be casual about it.

you'd been an avenger for almost two years now, and apart from the undeniable satisfaction of saving people, she was what you looked forward to at the end of the day.

after one particularly rough mission, you found yourself scanning the tower for your red-headed beauty best friend.

natasha's sprawled out on the rough couch in the living quarters and it doesn't take you long to find her. as you settled yourself on one of the plush chairs, you muttered out a "hey" and she lets out a soft hum.

she's obviously exhausted, and you know she didn't handle herself okay when this was the case. so you ask a rather stupid question, "you okay?" you almost planted yourself on the ground for pulling the stupidest question out of your ass.

the red-head propped herself up with her elbows--a thing she did that you always thought was rather attractive. she gave you a look that practically gave you the answer.

you sighed, hugging one of the fur pillows close to your chest. changing the subject would be the easiest thing to do.

"okay... weirdest thing you've eaten on a mission?" you asked, a soft smile on your face as you leaned back on the chair.

natasha sat up, biting back a smile. "what?"

you blinked, "you heard me."

the woman smirked, tilting her head in though. "a cricket."

your lips fell into a thin line. "a cricket?" you repeated.

she nodded, her expression nonchalant. "deep-fried. crunchy. it was actually quite decent."

"ugh," you groaned, wrinkling your nose. "you're braver than me."

"that's not exactly the word i'd use," natasha teased, her lips twitching into a small smile.

moments like this, where her guard came down even just a little, made you feel like you were glimpsing a side of her that no one else got to see. a side she didn't let many people near.

"well, you win," you said, raising your hands in surrender. "the weirdest thing i've eaten is a half-melted protein bar that i found at the bottom of my bag. that probably doesn't even qualify."

"not even close," natasha quipped, the corner of her mouth lifting in amusement.

a comfortable silence settled between you, the kind of quiet you'd only recently realize you appreciated. with most people, silence felt awkward, like you had to fill it with noise. with natasha, it felt... safe

you glanced over at her, the words on the tip of your tongue before you even realized you were going to say them. "you know, i don't think i've ever had anyone in my life who gets me the way you do."

natasha's gaze flicked to you, her expression unreadable, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but you pressed on, feeling like this was a rare moment to be honest with her.

"i mean it," you said, your voice softer now. "these nights, just talking like this... they've kept me sane. you've kept me sane." you hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. "and i know i don't say it enough, but... you mean a lot to me, natasha. i mean, if something ever happened to you, i don't think i'd recover."

you hadn't planned to say that last part. the vulnerability of it felt too raw, too much, but it was the truth.

natasha's expression shifted slightly, her mouth opening as if she was about to respond, but then she stopped.

you waited, your heart thudding in the silence. "nat?" you prompted, your voice tentative.

when she finally looked at you, her eyes were distant, her expression carefully neutral. "we're not close," she said, her voice eerily calm but firm.

it felt like the ground had crumbled beneath you. "what?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"we're not close," she repeated, her tone colder this time. "you think you know me, but you don't. you don't know what i've done, or who i really am. these conversations... they don't mean what you think they do."

you stared at her, stunned into silence. "but... i thought--"

"you thought wrong," she interrupted, her words cutting through you like a blade. her expression didn't waver, and that was the worst part--how composed she seemed, like she hadn't just shattered something inside you.

"i see you as a teammate," natasha continued, her voice emotionless. "nothing more."

for a moment, you couldn't breathe. you wanted to say something, to argue, to demand an explanation, but all the words died in your throat.

"i think i'm going to call it a night," natasha said, standing. she didn't look as she spoke. "goodnight."

and just like that, she was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

you sat there for what felt like an eternity, staring blankly at the space where she'd been. her words echoed in your mind, over and over again, until they were all you could hear.

"we're not close."

the truth of it stung more than you thought it would.

the mission in paris was supposed to be straightforward. in and out, minimal casualties, quick extraction. but it all went sideways when you made the decision to split up--ignoring steve's orders, ignoring tony's voice crackling through your earpiece telling you to stick to the plan.

there was no reason for it, no logic behind your decision. you just couldn't stand the thought of standing still, of waiting for the inevitable--whatever that may be. natasha’s words had shattered something inside you, and now you were just reacting.

the battle raged on. you fought like a machine, but you were anything but. your moves were reckless, too fast, too eager to prove you could still keep up. you dodged fire and threw yourself into the fray, not caring if you got hit.

when tony’s voice came through your comms, it was sharp, demanding. “y/n, fall back. now. you’re outnumbered.”

but you didn’t listen. you couldn’t.

“y/n, damn it, i’m serious. what the hell is going on with you?” tony’s frustration cut through the static.

“i’m fine,” you muttered, voice hoarse, even though you weren’t.

the mission ended in chaos. by the time you made it to the extraction point, bruised and battered, you couldn’t look anyone in the eye. you had made stupid decisions, and the team had suffered for it. but the worst part? you didn’t care as much as you should have.

back at the compound, you knew the lecture was coming. tony, steve, and clint had all gathered in the debriefing room, waiting for you. you could hear their murmurs as you made your way toward them, but you didn’t feel any relief at being home.

you stepped into the room, your eyes focused on the floor.

“sit down,” tony ordered, his voice clipped.

you took a seat, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.

“we’ve got to talk about what happened,” steve began, but tony cut him off, his tone rising.

“i don’t want to hear any more excuses. y/n, you almost got yourself killed today. you were out there acting like you didn’t give a damn about the mission or anyone else’s safety. what the hell is going on?”

you swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat. the words natasha had said to you that night, when you’d bared your soul, suddenly seemed to suffocate you. you had tried to pretend they didn’t hurt, but now, in front of tony’s fiery gaze and steve’s concerned eyes, they were the only thing you could think about.

“i’m fine,” you muttered, your voice too quiet. too weak.

“no, you’re not,” tony retorted, voice low and dangerous now. “stop lying. you’re falling apart, and you’re dragging everyone down with you.”

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t have an explanation. how could you? you were lost in the aftershock of Natasha’s rejection, and no matter how hard you tried to push it down, it always resurfaced. god, it was so stupid.

“you know what? fine. If you’re too stubborn to get your shit together, maybe we’ll have to bench you for a while,” tony snapped.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

“tony, that’s too far,” steve interjected, but tony’s expression was cold, his anger boiling over.

“no, it’s not. you’re not invincible, y/n,” tony shot back, his eyes narrowed. “if you can’t focus on the mission, then you’re not helping anyone. and I’m not risking the team because of some personal... whatever this is.”

you sat there in silence, the sting of his words sinking deep, and all you could think about was how everything had been so much simpler before. before natasha made you feel like an afterthought, before you felt like you were just another expendable member of the team.

“i’m fine,” you repeated, though it didn’t feel like the truth anymore.

but the truth didn’t matter, did it? no one cared about your pain.

and you should've known a black widow would never hold back her venom for anyone.

ha no happy ending love ya

[lemonade4wanda]

Sleepless nights

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - you go on a routine mission which ends badly how will your girlfriend react

Warnings - gunshots, violence, bullet wounds, mention of stitches, likely medically incorrect, blood, hospital? Not proofread

word count - 1.5k

A/n - I dont know what happened while writing this its all a blackout. As always any feedback is rlly appreciated!!!

It was just supposed to be another simple routine mission. Over and done with in a matter of hours. But of course nothing was ever as easy as predicted.

It had all been going with relative ease until you and Clint were fighting off agents left and right. Something you were usually both good at. However where you'd found yourselves was very much enclosed meaning you couldn't run and you had no idea how many or where these agents were coming from. Your backs were against each other as you moved in circular motions around the room.

"You did this you know, everything was going just fine until you said 'wow this mission has been quite the breeze.'" You mimick Clints earlier words in a squeaky high pitched voice while taking out a couple agents. "Couldn't have just waited till we were on the quinjet could you?"

"Look I really thought it was over. At least I wasn't the one who knocked over the vase alerting everyone in the Tri-state area of our location." He pipes back as you both fall into the usual bickering banter you often did, squabbling like small children. You and Clint had always been close and worked well with each other despite the constant pecking at each other. You'd become even closer once you'd gotten together with his best friend Natasha. Well, after he stopped threatening you about breaking her heart that is.

"Okay well atleast I'm not stupid."

"Yeah real mature. What does that even mean?" He retorts back with a chuckle at how quickly you begin to lose an argument and just throw childish insults at him.

"I thought you'd be smart enough to understand a simple senten-.." You trail off as you see an agent aiming at Clint, one he hadn't noticed. Though you considered letting the agent hit him and getting to be considered the better fighter it wasn't worth letting your friend die just to one up him.

"Clint watch out." You yell frantically as you watch the agent take aim. Clint wasn't going to have time to move. You panicked and shoved him to the floor knocking him from the bullet.

You don't think much of it when you don't see the bullet land or even when you vision blurs. It's only you notice somethings up when you see a blood splattering on your hand. Instinctively you look for Clint worried something hit him but you find him staring right back at you. That's when you feel the searing pain from your hip. Placing a hand over it to find out what's wrong, you feel a cold and wet substance spilling from it.

Thats when everything starts spinning. Moving too quick but not fast enough at all. The pain feeling worse, like nothing you've ever felt before as the adrenaline wears off and the severity of the situation sets in.

"Y/n look at me." Clints voice is grounding and calm making you briefly feel better. "There's no agents left okay. We're going to walk together to the quinjet, don't rush yourself it's going to be okay." You nod along even though your unsure you'll be able to walk that far as your vision fades in and on like a flickering TV.

He moves over to you and presses your hand firmly over the wound. "Keep your hand there and apply as much pressure as you can." Despite the way you stumble around as you try to apply any pressure at all to the wound he still sounds calm like he believes you can do this.

His hand hooks around you helping hold you up as the two of you begin a slow walk back. Things aren't looking too bad at first I mean sure you can hardly see infront of you an everytime you open your mouth to speak the only thing that sounds is a groan of pain but your managing it, you feel yourself believe you'll be able to do this walk back.

That is all before you trip over a stone which sends you tumbling onto your front, directly where the bullet wound is is where you hit the hardest when you fall causing you to scream out in pain with a noise you never knew you'd make. Clint immediately tries to pull you back to your feet while telling you how close you are to getting home but it's no use as your body goes stiff, legs refusing to move.

"Natasha is gonna kill me." I mumble half heartedly as he holds me up and my vision fades for what I believe might be the final time.

"Not if she kills me first." He chuckles and that's the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

Two days. Two whole days they said you were out for. You missed two days. Two days where you didn't see Natasha but she saw you, she sat by you every minute she could and when she couldn't sit anymore she slept by you not leaving for a second. She wouldn't even leave your hospital room for food. Clint having to practically force food down her throat so she didn't end up in a hospital bed alongside you.

You blinked awake. You'd been awake about an hour prior but were too drugged up to process anything going on and had quickly fallen back into your slumber. This time you were much more determined to stay awake, that and your pain medication was wearing off and you could begin to feel a sharp pain replacing the previously dull one.

As you woke yourself up to the bright white fluorescent lights of the hospital, those lights which practically felt blinding. Giving you little time to adjust to being awake, Natasha started speaking.

"So what happened?" She sounded angry. A little rough maybe as the Russian tinged her accent slightly in a way you only heard few times. As you located where her voice had come from, a small chair just to the left of your bed. Now that you could see her she seemed more worn out or stressed out the angry. Dark circles lurked under her eyes as her forhead creased showing visible lines.

"Uh.. didn't uhm.. Clint... tell you." You slowly mumble out as you try to push myself into a sitting position but before you can Natasha is up and pushing you back down to lie down.

"The doctor said you can't sit up yet or you'll move the stitches. And no he hasn't explained anything, so you better." She lays your head back on the pillow with such a contrasting softness to the way she's speaking which is almost as if she's interrogating you.

You roll your head over the side to face her as you recount what you remember from the mission. "So basically me and Clint, well especially me are kicking ass knocking these agents to the ground. But then one aims at Clint and I push him out the way and now we're here." You explain the best you can but it's just so difficult when your heads all fuzzy and until five minutes ago you were convinced you were dead. "I thought I was gonna die 'Tasha."

"You shouldn't put yourself at risk like that baby." She says while brushing stray hairs away from your face and back behind your ears. "Things could have been a lot worse.." her voice trails off all usual roughness gone as she appears as if she may break down crying at any second. "I could have lost you."

That's all it takes for you to start crying as hot tears stream your face making it hard to see anything. Seeing your deteriorating emotional state Natasha makes the descion to crawl into the bed next to you. "Oh hush now, it's alright. I was just worried about you lyubov." she coos while leaning over to kiss your dampened cheek.

"I know I know.. I'm just really sorry... I dont ever want to lose you Natasha." Your tears keep falling despite her soft, reassuring words.

"Y/n, I don't want to lose you either. Which is why I think it could be time we retired before either of us do. Of course it's up to you though, I won't pressure you."

It takes you a minute to process her words but when you do your glad for them. You'd been considering at least cutting down your workload recently but hadn't considered Natasha would be open to retirement at such a young age. You can feel your face break out into a small smile as she suggests it herself. Her own face is one of nervous apprehension as she chews on her lip.

"Yes. Please I want nothing more than to retire and with you." You reach in to kiss her face eagerly. Your lips smothering hers in an almost desperate fashion as if you were worried it could be your last.

"If this is what retirement is like I cant wait." She whispers as she pulls away from your lips, nipping them gently first. She cups your face in her hands before leaning back in.

[tldrthor]

things we shouldn't have said | steve rogers

Summary: The Captain has a scathing outburst that puts their already rocky relationship six feet under for good. He reaps the consequences when she gets hurt while looking out for him.

Part one // She was watching my back, and I wasn't watching hers. // word count: 3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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

“I am sick and tired of you endangering yourself and others, (y/l/n)!” The shouting started from behind the frosted panes of the meeting room. Tony, sitting on one of the benches outside, wondered if he had considered that the meeting room wouldn’t be soundproofed enough to stop people hearing sensitive information, or, if you were Steve and (y/n), insanely loud arguments nearly every day. It seemed like a design flaw.

“You were the one who made the wrong call! They weren’t on the left wing, they were on the right, who knows what could’ve happened if I hadn’t followed my instincts?!”

“It doesn’t matter, you flung yourself headfirst into danger, and disobeyed a direct order.”

“I’m not your soldier, Rogers. And I told you exactly what was happening, you just didn’t listen!”

Natasha banged the back of her head repeatedly on the wall she leant on. “How long do we reckon this ones going to take? I need a shower.” She sighed, sniffing at her armpits and wincing a little at the result. 

Tony looked at his watch, responding: “If I am correct in my estimation (y/n) will storm out right around …” The door to the meeting room burst open, and out barrelled a seething Agent (y/l/n). “Now.” Tony concluded, as the others laughed at his uncanny ability to predict how a Rogers-(y/l/n) fight went. He waved his hand and lowered his head in a fake bow.

“Do you think they’ll ever get along?” Young, innocent, naïve Peter asked. He had previously been fast asleep sitting upright in the uncomfortable waiting chairs. The sound of the door hitting the plasterboard on the wall had startled him awake.

Sam chuckled. “Kid, those two have been at each other’s throats since you were in middle school. It’s just what they do.”

Peter seemed to accept that answer, nodding slowly before covering a yawn with his hand. “That's classic enemies to lovers stuff.” He was nearly asleep again by the time the others had processed his statement enough to question what it meant.

The door opened again. “Come on, let’s debrief.” Cap pulled an anxious hand through his hair, clearly in turmoil. The Captain looked exhausted, his eyes nearly bloodshot. The bags under his eyes were some of the worst Tony had ever seen, and that was saying something. When his eyes landed on Peter, he shook his head, “Pete, head to bed. You’re beat.”

Peter nodded again, but fell asleep in the exact same position, approximately 0.3 seconds after the door closed behind the other Avengers.

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

"Good morning." (Y/n) muttered, walking into the briefing room with a coffee in hand. It wasn’t like her to be late, especially not with coffee. Tony realised that lately, she had been more and more demoralised after every mission. Especially after every argument with Cap. He was worried there was more going on with her than they knew. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist a dig.

"Don't you hate it when someone turns up late to a meeting with Starbucks in hand?" Tony tilted his head and spoke with sarcasm coating nearly every word.

"Bite me, tin man." She joked with her mentor. It wasn’t her usual chipper humour, but rather much more subdued, more pointed. She looked more tired than usual as well, Tony noted. But he had a meeting to present, and an interview in an hour, so there wasn’t much time to mull it over.

Steve didn’t pick up on anything strange, blinded by his annoyance. He shook his head silently in the corner, jaw tensed, eyes sending daggers into her with every step she took.

"Young lady, you are in a terrible mood this morning. And, I'm about to make it worse." Tony flashed her a charming but sarcastic smile. "We've got a code red recon mission over in Europe, and only you and our dear fearless leader are available to man it."

Her face immediately fell, but she wasn't the first to find her voice.

"Nope. There's no way." Steve responded to the news. She sent him a foul look at his rude outburst, before chiming in with her own.

"Rude, Rogers. But agreed, you send us on that mission, one of us is coming back in a body bag." And it won't be me. She thought.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, his tense posture maintaining an intense gaze on Tony. His arms, crossed, shoulders raised nearly to his ears.

Tony rolled his eyes at their reactions. "You guys need to stop your middle school bullshit. We're the Avengers, and at the end of the day, we've got each other's backs."

She decided to bite her tongue, opting for a vicious look towards Tony instead. Sure, it would be awful, but she wouldn’t mind a chance to prove to Steve that she was a valuable member of the team, and shove it in his face that he was wrong about her. 

She looked towards him, expecting him to have a similar disposition. Mr. Upstanding, the moral preacher. To her shock, he didn’t. And god, was he vocal about it.

“No, she’s a goddamn liability.” He turned to her with a withering, disdainful look. “She messes up every mission, and I’ve had enough. I’m not putting a code red in her hands, she doesn’t have the skills for it.” He immediately turned to face her, expecting her to fire back with the same passion.

He didn’t expect her neutral, almost – almost – hurt expression. She pressed her lips into a straight line, and his heart dropped when he thought maybe there were tears in her eyes. For just a second.

He might have gone too far. He didn’t think he would ever miss her rebuttals, her constant nitpicking, her endless talking back. But at this moment, he knew he would have preferred it. 

She looked away from him, and back to Tony, who watched the outburst with an open mouth. It wasn’t very often he was rendered speechless, but it took a solid ten seconds for him to clear his throat, pick his jaw up off the floor and continue.

“Unfortunately, there is no other choice, um, so hopefully that will go smoothly. You will leave at 8am sharp tomorrow. Uh … onto other business…”

(Y/n) drowned the rest of Tony’s briefing out as she replayed the Captain’s outburst over and over again. Liability. Messes up every mission. Doesn’t have the skills. It was all of her worst fears come true, packaged up neatly coming from the mouth of someone she had always secretly admired. Not that she would ever tell him that.

She wasn't sure why, but his words had cut her to the core.

An excruciating thirty minutes later, Tony concluded his meeting. “Okay, everyone out. Except Cap, we have to talk about logistics for tomorrow.” He watched with eagle eyes as (y/n) ran out of the room, lowering her face and ignoring anyone who sent pitying looks her way.

He turned to the Captain, who covered a bright red face with his hands.

“Now what the hell was that?” He asked.

Cap groaned, “I messed up.” 

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

8am. Sharp. She took a deep breath as she left her room, locking the door behind her. Her pack wasn’t too heavy, considering they were only supposed to be gone for a couple of nights max. Her chest felt tight, walking to the aircraft hangar, a pit of dread growing and growing with every step.

Before she met the hangar, she passed by Tony’s office. It was one of Tony’s off days, so she knew he wouldn’t be in. She slipped an envelope under the door, hoping he would only see it once she was long gone.

“See ya later.” She whispered to no-one.

Trudging to what felt like the executioner’s block, she was dismayed to see Steve already fully ready and waiting for her. She braced herself for the lecture, for the ‘we said leave at 8am, not arrive.’ But it didn’t come. 

“Good morning.” He spoke cordially, almost upbeat. Making up for something.

She could only manage a polite smile in return. He frowned at the lack of response, but she didn’t see it. 

“All systems ready to go.” She said, once she had got a seat and checked all her listed items. Steve nodded, and made a call through the radio to air control. “Alpha base control, this is Eagle and Wunderkind, ready to take off.” She hated hearing him say her nickname from Tony, which had become her official callsign for all base activities. 

Through the headset, she heard the confirmation from ATC, and watched as the Captain piloted the quinjet up and away from the base. God, it was going to be a long trip. 

As soon as she could, she took off her harness and retreated back to the seats further away from him. She heard the gentle click and mechanical thrum of the auto-pilot being put on, and the movement of the leather seats as Steve moved away from the cockpit.

She felt his presence over her as she tried to focus on her kindle. She had been reading and re-reading the same page, over and over, desperately trying to take in the words. But it was futile. 

“(y/n).” He sighed, knowing that she was purposefully ignoring him. “I want to apologise for my outburst at the meeting yesterday.”

She shrugged. He desperately searched for some kind of anger, some kind of white-hot hurt that she would respond with. It was what he deserved, after he had embarrassed her and doubted her in front of the whole team. 

“You told me how you really feel. It’s okay.” She still didn’t look at him.

“That’s not –” He huffed. “That’s not what I think. I was out of line.” It seemed that the words he wanted eluded him. What do you say to someone after you’ve put out their spark? How do you ‘fix’ a quenched fire?

“It’s fine, Captain. Honestly.” 

Rogers sighed and understood that he was being subtly asked to leave. He understood, really. But there was something about her dejected manner, her slumping posture and her big, sad eyes that made him feel like more of a villain than he already did. Like he had kicked a puppy, or stolen candy from a baby or…

Completely humiliated one of the newest Avengers in front of the whole team.

“I’m sorry.” He managed to stutter out, before turning and leaving to fiddle with some of the controls on the quinjet’s interface. 

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

The rest of the six hours were long. Painfully, achingly long. The tension in the atmosphere was only marginally cut by the quiet hum of the engine and the tap, tap, tap of the Captain getting some work done. The captain spent a longer time staring at his comrade than he would ever admit, watching as she frowned at her book. She turned one page approximately every five minutes, her eyes continually moving from the top to the bottom of the same page, over and over again. Her frustrated sighing the only sign of emotion coming from her.

He took a deep breath, trying to remove the suffocating guilt from his chest.

Standing, he waved a hand in her line of sight, interrupting her ‘reading’ session. She slid her headphones off, looking up at him expectantly. “We’re going down.” He spoke. “Thought you would like to get ready.”

The problem with recon missions was that a quinjet was a dead giveaway. So, they had to take their large, heavy packs, and camp out in the forest surrounding the castle. Why was it always a castle?

The hike was hard. The frost on the path made it difficult to get a proper grip on the near-vertical slope, and she realised quickly she had forgotten her gloves. The frost nipped at her hands, growing more painful with her step. She cursed Tony for sending them here in the dead of winter.

She threw her pack up a ledge, scrambling up behind it. While scrambling up the side, she made the mistake of grabbing on to a bundle of brambles. She hissed and retracted her hand, a line of crimson appearing straight across her palm, a precious droplet splashing down onto the snow. 

“You good?” Steve turned to watch her as she folded and unfolded her palm. He reached a hand out to help her up, his eyes focusing on the blood drip, drip, dripping.

She wiped the wound on her trousers, and took his offered hand with her opposite one. “I’m good.” She seemed agitated, nervous. “Do you feel like something’s not right?”

When she said it out loud, just for a second, his heart rate raised. He had convinced himself through his inner dialogue that he was just being overly cautious, but as she said it, he realised that she was right. If there was one thing Steve had learned, a true philosophy of his, it was that one Avenger’s intuition can be wrong. But two Avenger’s instincts are always correct. The unique blend of pattern recognition and situational awareness made the Avengers the closest thing on earth to fortune tellers. Or, so he believed.

“I agree. Let’s hunker down for a minute.” They settled in some of the brush, making themselves as invisible as possible. She was thankful to have a rest, she couldn’t lie. The tossing and turning all night, and every night for weeks, had truly taken its toll.

“Do you think it's bad intel, or a set-up?” She asked, her heart beginning to race at the sight of Steve becoming more and more stressed. She realised that the forest was absolutely silent. No wind, no birds, nothing. She hated it.

He took a second to respond, “I’m not sure. I don’t think we should keep going.”

“What? Then we’ve come all this way for nothing?” 

“I would rather us have come for nothing than die for nothing.” He spoke, trying desperately to manage his tone. How did this girl have such a way of getting under his skin?

She scowled. “Aye, aye, Captain.” A sarcastic salute followed.

With a futile deep breath, he snapped. He rolled his head in disbelief, incredulous that she would choose now to be obstinate. “Are you serious, (y/l/n)? You want to walk straight into something we have no idea about?” He gesticulated, hands flying wildly through the air. 

Both of them were too annoyed to realise that they were on a recon mission while quite loudly arguing in a forest. The Captain, blood boiling, didn’t hear the snap of a distant twig.

“I didn’t even say anything, Rogers! Don’t pretend like you care about my opinion anyway.” She scoffed. “Let’s just fucking go back.” She grabbed her pack, hauling it onto her back, standing from their spot in the brush.

“Shit!” She exclaimed as a bullet past her ear by less than an inch, the sound startling her down. The Captain instantaneously jumped over her, pulling her into him and covering them both with the shield. 

For the record, he smelt like cedarwood and rosemary.

“Came from the East.” He smouldered into the distance. If she hadn’t been so focused, she would have scoffed. He turned to her, his mouth mere centimetres from her ear, his warm whispers tickling her neck. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, no. Aside from the goosebumps, she had luckily been missed. The eye contact he made had something behind it… something she didn’t recognise. Something she had never noticed before.

The moment was shattered by more gunfire.

So, they did the avenging thing. He covered her, she shot as much as she could. Bullets sprayed in every direction, missing them both by the narrowest margins possible. They battled on and on, seemingly endless waves of agents appearing as soon as they thought they were almost through with it.

That’s when she saw it. The bullet heading straight for him. 

“Steve!” She screamed. She didn’t know why she called him by his first name. They weren’t friends. Hell, soon, they wouldn’t even be colleagues. 

He snapped to attention, spinning quickly to ricochet the bullet off of his shield. The bullet was so close to hitting him, he realised she had potentially just saved him from dying in the snow, 5,000 miles from home.

He looked to her to thank her and it all happened in slow motion. She screamed, a shrill, ear-splitting scream that turned his stomach. “No!” He shouted, still fighting through the hordes, sprinting to where the snow turned maroon.

His thrown shield thudded through the undergrowth, distant shouts of soldiers nearly split in half by the metallic disc. He grabbed the gun that had fallen from her hands, unleashing the last of its bullets on those who still dared to try him.

And the forest fell silent.

“(Y/n)!” He looked at her, her usually rosy face growing greater pallor by the second, her chest moving ever-so-slightly, and with growing effort. The black stain on her suit grew larger, and larger, and larger. Any and all medical training he had escaped him, as he realised that now, this moment, was where his regrets were fated to culminate. This was his punishment, his comeuppance.

He didn’t hate her. As he watched this hollow form of her, he realised he would give his own life to bring her back. He would bargain with anything and everything he could for this to be a nightmare that he would wake up from. He would fight with everything he had left to give to her.

Grabbing his pack from behind him, he tipped out its entire contents. 

God, what had he learned on those courses? What was going to kill her first?

“(Y/n), if you can hear me, this is going to hurt. I don’t… I don’t have anything to stop the pain. You’re bleeding out.” He spoke into the void, using scissors to remove her outer layer, exposing the wound. He noticed the blood slowly trickle from her mouth and nose, only worsening his anxiety.

It was worse than he thought, in fact, too deep for him to even suture… He used an antiseptic wipe to clean the area, before packing it with cotton swabs. He swore to himself. They had left the quinjet so far away, and he didn’t know if she would make it all the way back to the compound. 

He had to get her out of here. It was cold, and wet, and there could be even more enemy agents on their way there, right now.

“God, you’re going to have to hold on for just a little while longer, (y/l/n).” He whispered to her, picking her up bridal-style and running for the jet.

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

The other avengers weren’t expecting them to be back for a couple of days, so when Sam ran into the room with news that the quinjet was on the way back, they were pleasantly surprised. Each had finished their missions or meetings early it seemed. Which meant that just maybe they would be able to have some time as a team. Something they were in dire need of.

Tony smiled at his friends, but for a change wasn’t chatting. He sipped his coffee, and smoothed his hand over the handwritten note in his pocket. The note that he thought would never come.

Steve's voice over the intercom. “Mayday, mayday. Eagle to Alpha Base Control, we have a critical medical incident on board. Ready the medbay for severe blood loss and potential hypothermia. Wunderkind is compromised. Wheels down in 10.”

A panicked hush fell over the group.

“Okay, code red.” Sam jumped into the procedures they had all been trained on. “Bruce and I will go down to the hangar and help out. The rest of you stay here and we’ll keep you updated.” The four named avengers immediately ran to their stations, as the others tried to busy themselves doing other tasks that could be useful. 

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

The quinjet came into land at a near-dangerous speed. Bruce and Sam burst open the door as the back door of the jet opened and Cap ran out with a limp (y/n) in his arms, jumping over the ramp before it had even reached the ground.

“What happened?” Sam shouted, running in front of the Captain up the stairs to the nearest Medbay, making sure the way was clear. FRIDAY has thankfully opened all doors in advance.  

“Gunshot wound to the chest, severe haemorrhage. I’ve managed to pack it but not stalled the bleeding nearly enough, she needs help now.”

“Have you got vitals?” Bruce ran along, slightly behind them, not quite as fit. 

“She’s still breathing on her own, weakly. Low pulse. Unconscious since the event.” 

As they reached the medical room and Steve laid her down on the surgical table, it hit all of them how severe the situation was.

“Oh my god.” Whispered Sam, as he saw not only the extent of her wounds, but the volume of blood that covered every inch of the Captain. The colour of skin on his hands could not be seen from the crimson staining covering every inch of them, and his once-blue suit looked more like an inky black, even under the fluorescent lighting of the medical ward. 

More than that, the expression on Steve’s face was something he could only recall seeing on him once. When they discovered that Bucky was alive. He was shell-shocked.

“You guys need to clear the room.” Commanded Dr. Cho, scrubbed in and ready to operate. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“We trust you, Doctor.” Bruce spoke, as he realised the others weren’t going to. Both men grabbed Steve’s shoulder, gently directing him back through the double doors. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away, as Dr. Cho made demands to the other members of her team, beginning surgery immediately.

“Come on, bud. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sam was trying not to treat him like a ticking time bomb. But he knew that the Captain was going to snap out of his stupor eventually, and the consequences could be disastrous.

Steve’s eyes didn’t move from her lifeless body on that cold, steel table until they were well past the doors. When Sam tried to lead him out of the medical wing in general, his feet stopped just short of the door.

“I can’t, I - I have to wait.” He turned back around. He looked to Sam, almost asking permission. “I can’t leave her.”

It wasn’t lost on Sam that Steve had to have been keeping her alive by himself for at least six hours, over the Atlantic. That’s not only an impressive feat, but a damn near miracle. It was beyond dedication, it was lunacy. And something like that will make a pretty strong bond between people.

There was something deeper at play here. And as the pieces started to click into place, he wondered how he had never seen it before. The reason Cap was so hard on (y/n), and had been since the beginning.

“Okay, okay.” He guided him to a seat, as an unspoken compromise. “Bruce, could you grab a wet towel?” He spoke softly.

Banner nodded, and wandered off to find ways to help Steve be a little more comfortable. When Bruce returned, Sam gently took his bloody friend’s hands and wiped away the crusted blood that stained them.

Cap watched the red as it left his hands. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling that with every smear of dark brown on the towel, she was slipping away. 

Sam’s adrenaline could only abide the silence for so long. “Cap, you gotta talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“She saved me, that’s how she got shot.” He didn’t make eye contact, instead staring towards the doors, behind which she lay on death’s door.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve didn’t have to say anything for Sam to know that’s what’s running through his mind. A hazard of being an Avenger – the unending and relentless guilt.

“It is my fault. She was watching my back, but I wasn’t watching hers. And I had the damn audacity to call her a liability.” He scoffed, bitterly. 

“It’s nobody’s fault, Steve. These things happen, it’s part of the job. She’s going to pull through.” Sam hadn’t even considered the fact that the last proper interaction they had had, was rather… vitriolic in nature. He didn’t dare ask if anything else had happened on the mission. Not for now, at least.

Steve felt like he was being crushed by his own ribs, like his own body was depriving him of oxygen he didn’t deserve. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare think, except to chastise and punish himself for what he had done.

And not once did he take his eyes off those doors.

================================================

part two: promises we intend to keep

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[scarletssienna]

Beggin' for Footnotes

Summary - Some things aren’t meant to last forever. And despite you and Wanda loving each other you’re not sure if it’s going to work out anymore. 4.0k word count

Warnings - Hurt (not much comfort), heavy angst, swearing, mommy Wanda, oral, fingering, face slapping, sub!reader, degradation, praise, begging, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, hair pulling, mean Wanda, edging, face-sitting, thigh riding

AN - This is my first post on here! I’ve done writings in the past but I thought I’d try a new format and space to post it! :)) I plan on continuing this if I can find the energy lol!

Part 2

18+, minors + men dni

Not every love was supposed to last. No matter how great, how wonderful, sometimes things still end. You knew Wanda like the back of your hand. And she knows you all the same. So when one of her vices came up after one of your worst fights, you could only watch. Wanda stood out on the back porch. Cigarette between her two fingers as she stared off into the darkness. There was this empty sickening in both of your stomachs that this may be the end. At this point, all options and solutions had been exhausted. You knew it was time. You watched out the kitchen window, unable to tear your eyes away as she slowly inhaled before a large cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, the cold temperatures enhancing it. Your fingers squeezed the sponge from the sink as soapy water flooded between your fingers. The dishes had been long forgotten lately as neither of you had had the energy to wash them. This was unusual for Wanda as she liked to keep the house showroom ready at all times. You forcefully ripped your eyes away from her as you began to wash the dishes, trying to make up for anything you could. To fix what you could in this messy situation. 

The house that had once been so loud with laughter and joy now lingered in empty silence. Your playlist of every song you two had loved played softly over the speakers around the house. If it had been several months ago you would have pulled her closely in your arms, dancing around the kitchen despite her laughs and teases about how cheesy it was. Her nose would crinkle as you sang along in Sokovian to one of her favorite songs. You butchered the pronunciation, but you would try, she could tell. She would have given in eventually and threaded her hands in your hair as she rested her forehead against yours. You would have kissed her, kissed her as if she was going to leave the second you let go. In this reality, she very well might.

You watched out the window again for a moment before getting distracted by the dish you were washing. The knife in your hands harshly tore against your flesh and you quickly dropped the knife into the sink, a soft yelp leaving your lips. You backed away quickly as blood began to drip down your hand. It was a quick scramble for the kitchen towel as you tried to stop the bleeding. Wanda had always been there to comfort you when you were injured in the past. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to stop it as tears quickly began to fall on your face. You let off a soft sob as you abandoned the dishes, heading upstairs to your shared bedroom. Hurrying into the bathroom you discarded the bloodied towel onto the sink countertops and washed the wound before messily bandaging it up. You had never been very good at doing it yourself so Wanda had always insisted on caring for you but you didn't think that was very well an option at this point. 

Tears flooded down your face as the events from the night tore your heart into shreds. You were no longer crying due to the injury. It was a different kind of pain. You stumbled over to the bed and threw your pants onto the floor before climbing into your side of the bed. The sheets were quickly pulled up to your chin as your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs. Quickly, you drifted off into a tired and pained sleep. 

When Wanda returned inside she hadn't expected to see dishes washed especially as she investigated further and saw the drops of blood on the floor and a bloody knife in the sink. Despite the fight, she still cared and loved you. She quickly rushed upstairs in an attempt to find you. When she noticed the door slightly ajar and silence in the room she quietly peaked her head in. She sighed relieved when she saw you asleep in bed, seemingly uninjured from her view. The smell of cigarettes covered her and she wandered quietly off to the bathroom to take a shower, shutting the bathroom door behind her. For everyone but you her walls were high. She hardly let anyone in. and when she did, it felt as if it always ended this way. The feeling of being cursed towards relationships had set in. She washed her hair, going over the fight in her head as she wondered what could have gone differently, how she could save it. If it was even worth it at this point. 

Tensions had been rising over the past couple of weeks. You both had been working too much recently and had hardly had time for one another. It seemed as if every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, sleep, repeat. It had been killing you both. The littlest things set you both off. It would end up in screaming matches and sleeping alone every time. What set you both over the edge this time was not so little. Natasha, your mutual friend, had begun flirting with you. While she respected your relationship, she had always believed you two were not good for each other. So when you fought last week and you ended up at her house she had done nothing but comfort you. You thought nothing of Natashas' intentions but Wanda knew otherwise. This had sent her into a fit of rage when Natasha dropped you off this morning and kissed your cheek goodbye. 

You both fought for hours, arguing about anything that came to mind, but mainly Natasha. Had you understood and been able to read her mind as well, you would have understood her intentions and sided with Wanda, not seeing Natasha anymore. But you couldn't and this frustrated Wanda. When she attempted to control your mind you quickly noticed and this sent you two further down the line of fighting. You hated it when she used her powers on you. When you thought to yourself that you wished you could just forget everything that had happened Wanda broke. She had misunderstood. Thinking you had meant forgetting her. Silence fell over the fight and she went outside to have a cigarette. Her thoughts consumed her as her heart hurt. 

With how often the fights had been recently as well as how busy you've been, you'd not been intimate in weeks. The tension begins to tear you both apart. When she finished her shower she pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts before popping her head out the bathroom door to check if you were still sleeping. When she saw you, she had to determine what to do. Did she sleep with you? Or did she go to the guest room? She decided that you wouldn't want her in bed and quietly tip-toed to the guest room based on what she had misunderstood. That night she cried herself to sleep as well. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

When you woke up the next morning you sat up groggily and sighed to yourself as you didn't see Wanda in bed, the memories of the night prior sinking in. Despite your anger you went to see where she had slept for the night, mostly just wanting to make sure she hadn't ended up locked out on the porch freezing to death. You saw her asleep in the guest room, her makeup smudged and muddled from tears, and her shower. You sighed and went back to your room to get ready for the day. It was unusual for you to be up first and you made use of it, quietly leaving for work before she awoke. 

You returned home late that night, having gone to the bar after work with a few co-workers to unwind and relax. All you could think about was Wanda and the ache between your legs grew. You were mad, but maybe you needed that. You quietly entered the house, making a note to lock the door behind you before heading to find Wanda. You weren't extremely intoxicated, but the anger, lack of quality sleep, stress, and tequila were having a bit of an impact. You could tell she had been home for a couple of hours, the discarded takeout garbage by the trash. Suddenly she caught your eye outside on the back porch. Of course, she was smoking again. You thought to yourself before acting on impulse. You went to the door and harshly pulled the sliding door open. She let out a startled gasp that didn't happen often as she always seemed aware of your presence. 

“Get inside.” You said firmly in a tone that had been unusual for you to take on with her. You had always been the more submissive in the relationship. The words shocked you both a little. She obliged anyway, out of more surprise than anything. She put the cigarette out before coming inside. You shut the door behind her, looking into her eyes before quickly pressing her against the door in a bruising kiss. She yelped out of surprise before kissing back, her hands tangling into your hair. She ignored the taste of tequila on your lips as she knew she tasted like cigarettes and couldn't defend herself for that. 

You made quick work of snaking your hand underneath her shirt, groping her chest as your tongues began to fight. She had never seen this level of dominance out of you. While it surprised and intrigued her, she couldn't have it. You both knew you were just trying to get a reaction out of her as it had been entirely too long since you two had done anything together. Her hand tightened with a grip of your hair as she roughly pulled your head back, quickly beginning to kiss and nip at your neck. You let out a moan as she tugged at your hair, stumbling backward slightly as she pushed you off of her. 

“Upstairs. “ She muttered firmly. You could see the darkness in her eyes and did not question it, quickly moving upstairs to your room. The past few weeks your dynamic had been shallow and lacking. You both needed rules in life. You need a guideline to follow, and she needs an outlet of control. When you got upstairs you looked around the room, taking several deep breaths before going to crack a window to get some airflow. Your jaw clenched as you took a few deep breaths trying to focus on relaxing. You closed the curtains forcefully, a little too forcefully perhaps as they, along with the curtain rod came tumbling down. Your heart sank as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall as you knew Wanda would be mad. As you heard her footsteps approach you quickly tugged off your shirt, tossing it in a pile alongside your discarded pants. You had already dug your grave and it was getting deeper. Thoughts raced through your head about what punishment would come. The more you thought the more your legs pressed together for any kind of release you could gain. Just as you sat down on the bed the door swung open. “What the hell was that?” She asked. Her voice was angry and her accent began to peak through her words as she spoke. Her head quickly turned and noticed the window. “Did you do this?” she asked in almost a patronizing tone. She knew you did it, the guilt on your face was obvious. 

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth as she spoke, gnawing on it nervously as you considered your options. Slowly, you shook your head, the hesitation clear as tears brimmed your eyes. She walked over to you, one eyebrow raised in a way that she knew made you weak in the knees. She raised her hand before a loud echoing slap hit your cheek. You let out a moan and pressed your legs together harder as tears finally fell.  “Lying gets you nowhere. I'll ask you again, Detka.” she paused, faining tenderness as she wiped a tear away from your face. “Did you do this?” every word she spoke was drawn out and stern as she raised her eyebrow and held your chin in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. Slowly you began to nod, bracing yourself for the slap you knew was about to come. When she raised her hand a slap did not come. Instead, she giggled at your flinch and reached down, snapping your bra snap on your shoulder. “This is what happens when little girls try to do things that are too big for them,” she spoke slowly, making sure each word sunk in. “You didn't even have time to fully undress for Mommy.” she shook her head and snapped your bra strap once again before pushing you to lay back on the bed. She climbed on top of you, straddling one of your thighs as she ground her hips, working herself up. 

“Please Mommy,” you whined out softly as your hips raised into her, begging for any amount of pleasure you could get. Another slap fell hard across your cheek and you felt your thoughts slowly drift further into a fuzzy headspace. You moaned at the feeling. Her hand was wet from the tears that had fallen down your face and she made it a point to wipe her hand on your bare stomach. 

“I didn’t permit you to speak. Did I?” She asked firmly as she leaned down, kissing and nipping at your neck. You shook your head frantically as you struggled to keep your hands by your sides.  She slid her hands back up your stomach and muttered under her breath. “Good girl.” Before pulling your bra down to reveal your breasts. She wasted no time as she quickly kissed down towards your chest, taking the small bud into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around your nipple as her hand snaked down into your panties, finally touching you where you needed it most. She gasped dramatically and pulled her head up, locking eyes with you when she felt your wetness. Your face turned a deep shade of red as she proceeded to tease and taunt you for how wet you had been at her from only just slapping and teasing you. All of your thoughts were consumed by her in a fuzzy bliss. 

Without warning she slipped two fingers inside of you easily. Her fingers made quick work of pumping in and out, stretching and curling them just where you needed it most. You moaned loudly and wrapped your arms around her back, pulling her body closer to you as you hid your face in her shoulder, biting down softly on the tender flesh. This depicted a soft moan from Wanda as her hips jerked slowly against your thigh. She pulled her body back with a grin as she began to bite softly across your jaw. 

“Let me see your pretty face baby. I want to see you while I fuck you.” She said her fingers worked faster, her thumb reaching up to touch your throbbing clit. You blushed red as you looked into her eyes. The moon was shining through the window casting a moonlit glow across her face, a smirk forming across it. Just as quickly as she worked you up to an orgasm, she stopped. She pulled her hand away quickly and you found yourself frantically reaching for her wrist as your hips jerked underneath her.

“No! Mommy!” You yelled out exasperated as tears fell quickly from your eyes at the loss of sensation. She smirked down at you, her tongue slowly licking her lips. 

“You didn't think I'd let you cum that quickly after what a brat you've been the past few weeks little girl?” She asked in a patronizing manner as she pulled her hand out of your panties and brought her fingers to her lips. You moaned at the sight, her tongue licking her fingers clean, making a show of the process. Her fingers then slid into your mouth and you groaned at the taste of your arousal mixed with her. Your tongue swirled around her fingers as you proceeded to suck her fingers. 

“Please Mommy.” was all you could seem to muster out after she pulled her fingers out of your mouth. Your mind was clouded and fogged and just where Wanda wanted it. 

“Silly me,” she smiled as she looked down. “Mommy has been giving you all the pleasure, she completely forgot to undress.” she motioned towards her clothes before standing up. You groaned and reached for her when she stood, no longer touching you. You let out a soft murmur as your hands grabbed at her shirt, pressing your legs together. She stripped before walking back towards you. She tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them towards the pile of clothes before doing the same with your bra. You couldn't help but notice the wetness that had soaked Wanda's panties and now glistened her thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight as all you wanted to do was taste her. 

You knew how often you had fought lately and how the arguments left you due for punishment. You just weren't exactly sure what form it would take. Anticipation flooded through your body as you looked up into her eyes, your eyes wide and innocent. 

“You're going to eat me out until I cum, maybe then I'll give you what you want,” she stated firmly as she squeezed at your hips. Her touches were not gentle. Her fingers dug into your tender flesh, all of her anger, stress, and tension coming out onto you. You moaned at the touch, more sensitive and aware with each touch and mark she left across your body. She let go with a slap to your thigh and you groaned at the loss of her. You sat up and watched as she moved around the room, sitting on the bed in the middle, spreading her legs for you as she watched with dark eyes. “Come make Mommy feel good.” Her voice dripped with arousal as her words of encouragement enticed you further, not that it took much at this point though.

Quickly you moved and settled yourself between her legs. You slowly began kissing up her thighs, licking the path of arousal she had left for you. She grumbled impatiently above you, clearly already ready for attention where she needed it. Her hand snaked through your hair, gently at first as it stroked your scalp. She then grabbed a fistful, tugging your hair harshly as she forced you up higher, pushing your head between her legs. At the tug, you let out a loud moan as you cursed under your breath. You got the hint and stuck out your tongue quickly getting work between her legs. Your tongue licked up her slit before it brought fast attention to her clit. You brought your fingers up and slipped two fingers inside of her. You were kinder than Wanda had been to you, moving your fingers less harshly and aggressively. It worked nonetheless as she quickly rose to an orgasm with the combination of both your fingers and tongue. Her grip on your hair did not loosen as her hips began to jerk against your face. As she reached her peak she let out a loud moan, her hips moving frantically as she tugged harshly at your hair. The taste that hit your tongue made you moan as you quickly lapped up as much as she would allow before pulling your head away. 

Her chest rose and fell heavily as she caught her breath, a gentler hand moving to your neck. You leaned up her body as you kissed her passionately. When her tongue slid across your bottom lip and your mouth you eagerly allowed it entrance. A smile grew across her face as she pulled away. You whined at the loss but it was quickly relieved when she pressed a singular finger to your lips. 

“Mommy.” You moaned out as your hips began to grind against her stomach. Her hand snaked down her stomach to touch you, her fingers ghosting over your clit. 

“Come sit on my face Detka.” She said firmly as she adjusted her positioning, letting your thighs rest next to her head. You were hesitant yet eager as you slowly lowered yourself down, moaning loudly as her tongue finally made contact. Your hips jerked against her face as you ground against her tongue. You were worked up quickly, faster than ever as she seemed to know exactly where you needed it. She mumbled out from underneath you as she worked you up towards an orgasm. “Beg for it, Malyshka.”

Quickly words began to tumble out of your mouth as desperation to cum was needed. “Please, Mommy. Please!” You practically yelled as your hips jerked more, her nails digging into your thighs. “Please let me cum.” You begged. She complied with a grin.

“Cum for Mommy, Detka.” She said as her tongue moved rapidly beneath you. Instantly you reached your peak, reaching for the bead frame in front of you to steady yourself as you moaned loudly. When Wanda felt you had settled enough she gently pulled you down next to her and into her arms. You shook a little in Wanda's arms as she held you for the first time in weeks. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she slowly combed through the mess she had made, taking time to massage your scalp. All the thoughts of your fights had completely melted away and you were consumed by her and her embrace. 

“Mommy.” You murmured as tears began to fall on your cheeks again, your face nuzzling closely in the crook of her neck.

“You did so good baby, so good.” She praised quietly as she kissed behind your ear. Her fingertips found a gentle pattern of scratching up and down your back with one hand while the other massaged where she pulled your hair. Praise was whispered into your ear as she held you closely, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Slowly your sobs calmed and you settled into her embrace, slowly lifting your head to leave soft kisses across her jaw and neck. 

“I love you, Wanda.” The words left your mouth for the first time in weeks and a soft smile crept across your lips. Wandas' face glimmered with love as she pulled you into a kiss. 

“I love you too, Detka.” She whispered through kisses as she could only hold you closer. After a while of the silent embraces Wanda's thoughts of the fights crept back into memory. “We’re going to be okay.” She hesitated and looked towards you. “Right?” She spoke softly, her voice filled with fear at the thought of losing you. You nodded and kissed her softly, your mind foggy and cloudy as all you wanted was to be close to her. That night you slept close, tangled up in each other's love, neither wanting to pull away.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning when you woke up snuggled up in Wanda's arms felt different. The bliss that usually followed had dissipated and all you could think about was the pain of being with her. You gained a sinking pit in your stomach as guilt and fear coursed through your body. The flight response kicked in. You couldn't be with her, not now. Tears began to fall as you quickly but carefully left the bed and Wanda's embrace. Hurriedly you moved for some clothes as you threw on the closest things you could find without waking her. You reached for the door handle but paused. One glance back to Wanda confirmed it. You couldn't be here. So where did you go? Who greeted you with open arms? Natasha.

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH2

You find yourself at the lowest point of your life, with no way out, stuck in your own darkness, but then a woman approaches you with an offer that may change your life…

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Depression, anxiety, mental health issues. Mommy/Daddy issues. Pet names. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Age gap. Dom/sub undertones. Fluff. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 6.8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3

A/N: This is the angsty-backstory/how-they-met episode. No smut here, just a bit of plot and a lot of angst. The real smut will commence in chapter 3. (This also marks the first part of the past-timeline which will continue in chapter 4 and onward.) If you don't care to read 6.8k words of backstory, there's a TL;DR at the end of the post! (For more information on Reader, check out the A/N in chapter 1.)

Chapter 1 🔷️ Chapter 2 🔷️ Chapter 3

Several months earlier

Sometimes it takes one single stone to bring the entire avalanche down on somebody. Or however that saying goes. You couldn't care less when it eventually happened to you. It started when you stopped going to college. You just couldn't anymore, physically and mentally. It was a chore to leave your room, an entire obstacle course to even think about going to your classes, meeting other people, doing anything anymore. And you still have no idea how it all came to be. It just happened.

You stopped going, but life went on, and in the end you had to drop out, missed too many classes, couldn't get back on track in time, lost contact to anyone you'd considered a friend before. And when it was official, you lost your room in the dorm. Because it was student living, and you were no longer a student. So you gathered the few things you owned (which wasn't much) and left the place. It was all a daze back then, a blind stumble through your darkness, an aimless wandering, your mind either too empty or too full to realize that you were now homeless.

And not even that. Prior to being kicked off campus, you were let go from your job in the coffee shop because you had excused yourself too many times. You tried to return to it, because the people were nice, but even they couldn't take you back because now you didn't have a home address anymore, and somehow that was important? How were you supposed to afford rent when you couldn't even get a job because you didn't have a place to stay yet? Life wasn't fair, and it accumulated quickly.

That first day, you stumbled through the streets, headless, still not quite understanding what was happening. You were numb, unable to process what your life had turned into.

You slept on a bench in the park that night, luckily it was late spring, already quite warm, the only good thing about your whole situation, but even now you realize that you were really lucky that night because who knows what could have happened. A young woman, alone in the dark, helpless. It's scary just how lucky you had been.

You made it back to the coffee shop, hoping they had changed their mind. They hadn't, but they allowed you to spend the day sitting inside, trying to get your bearings, thinking what you should do. The problem was, you didn't have any options. You had a little bit of money saved up, but it was not enough to pay the first-time payment for a new apartment, and you'd burn through most of it by just staying even at the cheapest hotel.

Your worst enemy, however, was your pride. Asking former friends to crash on their couch for a bit? Never in a million years. You had ghosted them, ignored them for so long they'd probably hate you now, and you couldn't face them, ashamed and insecure as you were.

On top of that, even before you fell into your black hole, you had made an effort to burn all the bridges of your old life when you moved to the other side of the country, leaving it all behind to start fresh.

The 'safety' of your family and your hometown was too far away now. Plane tickets were horribly expensive (as was train travel or a simple bus ride), you also didn't own a car, and asking them to send you money would never ever be an option either. Not just because of your pride (though admitting defeat and returning with your tail between your legs was also high on your no-chance-in-hell-list), but because you knew they wouldn't come to your rescue anyway. Somehow you knew they didn't care about you anymore.

Especially your mother had not been happy when you were accepted into a college all the way on the other side of the country, but for you, it was like a dream come true. A new beginning. All on your own. Finally. The first years truly were like paradise. But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, completely out of the blue, it all came down, and buried you alive. And as days turned into weeks turned into months, where you couldn't even leave your dorm room anymore, you kept seeing your mother's face in front of you, condescending as ever, hissing 'I knew it...' into your ear.

You felt like the biggest failure, letting everyone down, especially yourself. And you told yourself you didn't deserve help, maybe you deserved to rot at the bottom of this deep dark pit. Dropping out of college, losing your room, spending your time on the streets, was only the tip of the iceberg of a months long depression you saw no way out of.

You were stuck, too scared and stubborn and self-loathing to ask for help, unable to move back or forward. And when the coffee shop closed for the night that second day, you found yourself huddled in a nearby doorway, unable to even go back to the park or find somewhere else to stay. They told you about a homeless shelter, but you couldn't face any people right now. It felt impossible.

But it didn't stop other people from approaching you. Again, you were more than lucky, you could have met who knew who, you were aware that there were bad people out there, but instead it was a woman. A beautiful woman in a business suit who looked as if she'd stepped right out of one of those fancy fashion magazines. You stared at her in awe and confusion when she crouched down in front of you.

“You shouldn't be here,” she said, her voice so smooth and velvety and gentle, a subtle accent shining through her words.

What she said made you frown though, and you started to move, knowing you shouldn't loiter here like this, but her hand shot out and found your shoulder, holding you in place. You froze, blinking at her.

“Not the safest place for a young woman like yourself. Do you need help?”

There it was, the dreaded question. You wanted to say yes, scream it at the top of your aching lungs, please, yes, help me, but you couldn't. You didn't want to be a burden, you wanted to rot away in your little hole and that was it. It was a strain to ask for anything, had always been, you liked being independent, but that ship had sailed a long time ago.

So all you replied with was a pathetic sniffle that you hid by wiping at your face. It was numb by this time, too many tears, countless panic attacks, it had been all too much. And again the woman grabbed your wrist, pulled your hand away, watched you with genuine concern on her pretty face. You only sobbed more under her attention.

“Shh, it's alright. It's going to be okay,” she tried to soothe you, the back of her finger wiping at your wet cheek. You startled away, gasping, hitting your head on the wall behind you, which caused you to cry even harder. “Oh, sweet girl, it's alright,” she repeated, and then she pulled you into a hug, right against her impressive bust, and it was warm and soft and the touch so confusing and overwhelming that you just went limp in her embrace, sniffling pathetically.

You still don't know why she treated you like that, you were a stranger, a girl living on the streets for all she knew, and yet she looked right through you and saw how lost you were. You can't really remember what happened next, but she seemed to have convinced you to come with her, and she brought you to a diner that was still open, where she ordered food and drinks for you, and you sat there, stunned and still overwhelmed, and let it happen, mesmerized by this strange woman.

And you ate and talked, pushed by her attentive eyes and concerned questions, told this stranger everything, cried some more, had another panic attack, and as you thought she would leave then, too troubled or unimpressed by your story, she asked you something else. Something that would change your life forever.

“Do you know what a submissive is, sweetheart?” The question came so natural. She was sipping on her coffee, watching you over the rim of the cup, a little sparkle in her beautiful eyes.

You frowned and shook your head. You knew the word as an adjective, of course, but you weren't sure what she was insinuating by phrasing it like that.

She smiled softly and explained it to you, patiently and as if she was talking about the weather, and you felt your cheeks burning up, your attention focused on her and the picture she was painting. Your head was swirling with words like dominance and caregiver, deference and submission, guidance and devotion, and phrases like giving up control and letting someone else take over. She never actually said it, but there was a deeply sexual undertone to it all, which confused you as much as it overwhelmed you.

She finished with: “So my partner and I are looking for a girl like this, someone willing to let go for us, someone we can take care of, hold and pamper, you know? We've been looking for a while, but never found the right one.”

You stared at her as she leaned her elbow on the table and her chin into her palm, her eyes wandering over your flushed face. “You would live with us, you'd have a home. You'd be given tasks and chores, because, yes, nothing is for free in this world, but you'd be taken care of, you wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore.”

She inhaled deeply, leaning back in her seat. You watched her, your mind reeling, her words echoing in your head. You were more than intrigued, but it all sounded too good to be true. How was it possible that at your lowest point, when everything seemed hopeless, you'd meet a woman who'd tell you about a way out? And all you had to do was follow their orders, do what they told you to do, let them take control? Honestly, in your current state, at this point, you'd do anything to get out of your own head.

But the longer you stared at her and the longer the silence dragged on between you, the more you deflated, already knowing she'd be disappointed in you too, sooner or later. You chewed on your bottom lip, lowering your eyes, distancing yourself from this possibility even before it could come to fruition. Can't be disappointed if you don't have any expectations, right?

She moved, extending a hand to touch your arm, her long slim fingers hooking under it, slowly dragging downwards until she could get a hold of your hand. You looked up in confusion, tears burning in your eyes. She squeezed your hand gently.

“Will you be our submissive, sweetheart?” she asked quietly, her eyes boring into yours. “Will you give it a chance? There are no strings attached, you come with me tonight, I'll show you the house, you meet my partner, and then you can decide what to do, okay? I know I'm just a stranger now, and telling you to trust me certainly sounds weird, right? But I mean it, you can trust me. I really want to help you.”

You parted your lips, wanting to reply, but only a sob came out. You didn't deserve this. And this stranger was too nice, too generous, offering you all this? Where was the catch? Were you being pranked? Was she a serial killer looking for her next victim? Maybe she just saw another charity case in you, someone to help for publicity or something? All those thoughts flooded your mind as you watched her, but the longer she patiently held your hand, smiling softly at you, the calmer you became.

She didn't look foul or like she had an ulterior motive. She seemed sincere. You swallowed hard, licking your dry lips. In the end you came to the conclusion: it's either this or the park again, and even if she wanted to kill you or do whatever else with you, it beat being alone and miserable. And if you were meant to die that night, then it would happen anyway. Besides: you didn't have anything left to lose.

So from the lowest point of your life, without seeing a way out on your own, you looked at the woman and nodded, biting your lower lip, blinking away your last tears. “Yes,” you quaked out, squeezing her hand back.

Her smile grew wider, and it reached all the way to her eyes, little creases breaking through her perfect make-up. She seems real enough, you thought. Genuine. She really wanted to help you.

And so she took you with her, and as you sat next to her in the back of her car (which was driven by a man in a black uniform and a hat), you realized you might have struck gold with this woman. Your tears dried on your cheeks as you watched in awe how you drove through the better part of town until you reached a large house, almost a mansion, fenced-in and with a fancy gate, something you'd never seen up close before.

She guided you inside, you in your dirty clothes with your bulging backpack that held all your belongings, while her expensive shoes clicked along the hardwood floors, and at first you felt completely out of place. You didn't belong here and these people would notice this soon enough. Whatever they expected of you, you'd never be able to meet those expectations. They were rich, privileged, and you... were nothing.

She seemed to feel your growing worries and grabbed your hand, silently taking you upstairs to a room somewhere in the middle of a long hallway. You were too overwhelmed to even notice the interior of the place, but when she opened the door and gently motioned you through it, your haze lifted slightly. You were in a bedroom, a simple bedroom with a big bed and two nightstands, a large closet, a desk and a bookshelf, and a door presumably leading into a bathroom. It was somewhat posh, but it was also simple, and it was...

“Yours,” the woman said, her hands on your shoulders. “If you say yes.”

Still biting your lip, you turned your head to look at her. She tilted hers, one of her hands gently cupping your face before her thumb pressed on your bottom lip.

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” she told you. “How about you take a nice long shower, get freshened up. Maybe you'll find something to wear in the closet, have a look. And when you're done, and when you're willing, come down and we'll have another talk, yes? Don't feel pressured. If you change your mind, you can still stay the night, no problem. But I'd really like you to consider my offer. You may not see it right now,” she adds, stepping around you to fully cup your face, leaning down a little to look into your eyes, “but we have been looking for someone like you for so long. You are the right one, sweet girl. Give it a chance, okay?”

You swallowed, nodding into her hands. Then she leaned in and actually pressed her lips to your forehead, and the gesture seemed to already settle your raging thoughts. She was so gentle, so nice, it almost broke your heart. Leaning back, she watched you, a smirk on her full lips, and without hesitation she leaned in again, and this time she touched her mouth to yours.

Your eyes went wide, the touch short but intense, a moment frozen in time. And while your mind was silenced, your body became alive with a strange throbbing, an urging need, a feeling you hadn't felt in ages. You'd been numb for so long, this felt like a wake-up-kiss. When she retreated and straightened up, you gave her a shy smile that caused her to issue a short little laugh.

“Take your time, honey, I'll be waiting downstairs,” she told you, caressing your cheek before she walked past you and out of the room.

And you were floating, barely able to think as you walked into the bathroom, stripped out of your clothes and enjoyed a hot shower you had needed for so long, or so it felt. It all fell off you as the water cascaded down your body. A new chance. A new life. In a house like this? Everything had looked so bleak before, tainted by doubts, but now the colors were coming back, one hue at a time.

When you were done, you dried off with the softest towels you'd ever experienced, and with one of them wrapped around your torso, you walked back into the room and towards the closet. It was wide and sleek with sliding doors, and opening it showed you a variety of clothes, but your eyes quickly wandered to the dresses hanging on velvety hangers. All colors one could think of, all shapes and sizes, and in the end you chose one that matched your eyes. Somehow it fit you perfectly also. It was elegant and cute at the same time.

You felt like a new person. Watching yourself in the mirror that stood in the corner, you felt mixed emotions though. It had been a while since you'd taken a long look at yourself. The dress went barely over your knees, and looking down, you realized you hadn't shaved your legs in a long time it seemed. Shame flushed your body, drowning out the excitement for a moment. Self-care hadn't been on the agenda while you were wasting your life away...

Sighing loudly, you shook that thought out of your head. No matter now. You had to look ahead! So you grabbed some complementary tights from the closet (and a nice looking pair of panties alongside it, colors you'd never buy for yourself), and easily covered the flaws of your neglected body. You also found a little matching cardigan to hide your arms. And slowly, you felt better. Like a person again, not entirely like yourself, but it was a start.

In a strange way, this was giving you serious princess-makeover-vibes. A few hours ago you were sitting in the dirt, in the dark, lonely and forgotten by the world, spat out to deal with the broken pieces of your life, and now... you were standing in this nice looking bedroom, surrounded by wealth and warmth. You did pinch yourself a lot that night, but you always came to the conclusion that you were not dreaming.

But when you walked up to the door, about to leave the safe space of this room, your heart sank. Doubts came rushing back, and you wondered how this could be real. A woman you'd never met before came up to you and asked you to be her and her partner's submissive, basically their little pet, if you understood her correctly, you'd get a home, and they would... well, do whatever they wanted with you? (Whatever that meant. You were not so sure.) All you had to do was listen to them, do as they said, give up control?

It all sounded rather strange. But what were your options? Go back to live on the streets? Wallow in your failure at life? (Take the walk of shame back to the life you had tried so hard to forget about?) You inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, flattened the skirt of your dress, attempted to bring order into the mess that was your towel-dried hair, and then, you went to meet them. You could only go forward anyway.

You heard voices from downstairs when you approached the large staircase. Your heart beat faster the closer you got to the room they were in. Your tights-clad feet tapped over the expensive looking hardwood floors, and it would have been a good idea to distract yourself by looking around and taking in the splendor surrounding you, but you couldn't look, couldn't focus, your mind fixated on meeting these people who wanted to give you a new life, without really knowing you.

Why did they trust you so much? What did the woman see in you that made it clear to her that you were the right one (whatever that meant)? You couldn't see it. But it wasn't up to you, apparently.

Taking a deep breath, you extended a shaking hand to grab the door handle, then paused, breathing harder, before you decided to knock. It was a frail attempt, barely audible over the voices still coming from behind the door. So you knocked again, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. And suddenly: silence.

“Come in!” sounded a female voice, before you heard footsteps coming closer.

You pulled the door open and stepped into what looked like a giant living room. Your eyes moved quickly over the interior. Couches, plural, facing each other, a large fireplace (with a TV above it) on one wall, bookshelves on the other. Big potted plants in the corners, a lot of black and white and wood colors. And in the middle of it, next to a little cart laden with alcohol bottles and glasses, stood a man.

For a moment all you saw was him. Tall, dark, handsome, came to mind. His eyes were on you, so intense you couldn't move another step. There was an air of authority around him, enhanced by the black suit he was wearing, by the way he stood, tall and intimidating, wide shoulders, long limbs, muscular but not too bulky, his angular jaw covered in a trimmed beard, short dark hair thick but kept in order. He watched you with a hard expression, and you had never felt smaller in your life.

The woman approached you then, and by touching your arm, broke the spell the man had on you. You blinked and looked at her, and she was just as stunning. Perfect skin, heavy eyes and full lips, a mane of dark hair cascading down her back. She had changed and was now wearing a tight black dress and high heels, and her legs were long, so long and toned and slender. Together they looked as if they'd just come from some kind of gala.

And here you were, in your borrowed dress, towel-dry-hair in messy waves all around your flushed face, hiding your shame under layers of too colorful clothes. You swallowed thickly, blinking again as you lowered your gaze.

“Here you are,” the woman addressed you, gently taking your hand and pulling you into motion. “I'm so glad you came down. Had a nice shower?” Her voice was soft and friendly, and you shot her a nervous smile and a nod. She pulled you to one of the couches and firmly nudged you to sit down. You did, still fighting the overwhelming emotions.

“Would you like a drink?” the man asked, and you looked up like a deer in headlights, staring at him, his voice a low grinding sound in the atmosphere, a timbre that made your core shake.

“I... I don't drink,” you stammered, your eyes flickering over his handsome face. “Thank you, though.”

A shadow crossed his features, but he nodded. “A water, then?”

You licked your suddenly dry lips, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “Yes, please,” you whispered and looked down at your hands. They were shaking badly, so you grabbed the hem of your dress and kneaded it roughly.

You heard the clinking of ice cubes, before heavy footsteps approached you. Looking up slowly, you saw the man holding a tall glass of water towards you. For a moment you just stared at his hands. Beautiful hands, big with long fingers, short nails, veins and tendons snaking under tight skin. You felt your cheeks burning up. To cover the strange excitement crashing through you, you quickly grabbed the glass, giving him a short nod and smile, unable to fully meet his eyes, and when your fingers brushed against his, a garbled gasp escaped you.

“There's no reason to be nervous, darling,” he told you, his hands closing around yours to stabilize the shaking glass. You stiffened nonetheless, your eyes widening.

You took a deep breath and somehow found the courage to look up again. “Y-yes, sir, s-sorry, and, uh, th-thank you,” you fell into an awkward stutter, meeting his dark eyes. A subtle twitch went through his face at your words, a soft smile growing on his lips. He let go of your hands and walked away with a nod, settling in an armchair close-by, still watching you like a hawk.

The woman then sat down beside you, throwing one arm around your shoulders as you tried to take a sip of the cold water. You almost spluttered when you felt her fingers tracing down your arm. “So,” she said with a sigh. “How about we get to know each other a little, hm?”

You saw her exchanging a glance with the man, who leaned back in his chair, large hands splayed out on the armrests as he crossed his legs. “What's your name, girl?” he asked.

You told him. The woman then introduced herself and her partner. They were not married, she told you, but worked together. He was in his late thirties, she was in her early thirties, they'd met through work and continued to cross paths until they moved in together, pursuing the same goals. A strange relationship, you thought (but you'd learn more about that very soon). She did most of the talking, giving you snippets of their lives, while the man watched you and nodded occasionally or added some details. But whatever they told you, mainly what they did for a living, didn't really register in your reeling mind (you couldn't even remember their names at this point).

You were too focused on just sitting there, holding your glass of water, trying to make a good impression by listening intently (or pretending to do so), being polite, hoping they wouldn't change their minds about you. When they were done telling you about themselves, the man uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands as he looked at you. And then he asked the dreaded question:

“Tell me about yourself, darling.”

Your throat tightened immediately. Over the last months, you'd lost yourself, buried in doubts and dark thoughts, and thinking about the person you once were hurt in a strange, crippling way. You still tried to answer him, told him where you came from, how happy you were to have been accepted to this town's college, to finally leave your hometown, how fun it had been... at the beginning.

But when it came to retelling the events (or the lack thereof) that had led to your downfall, you choked up, quickly hiding the croak in your voice by taking a big sip of water. You felt the woman's hand on your arm, giving it a gentle caress, but it only made it worse.

Tears spilled from your lashes when you tried to tell him what a failure you were. A loud exhale (akin to a sigh but less condescending) escaped him, and when the woman took the glass from you, you looked around in confusion, blinking against the tears burning in your eyes.

“Come here, girl,” sounded his voice through the large room, the dominant tone causing you to stiffen.

But you stood immediately, shuffling towards him, your hands clenched into fists, your head bowed. His long fingers brushed down your arms until he gently grabbed your waist and pulled you between his legs. You ended up sitting on his thigh, a pathetic sniffle escaping you as he held you, tilting his head to look at you.

The hand that wasn't curled around your hip moved up to your face, fingertips brushing over your wet cheeks. “Don't cry, it's okay,” he said soothingly. You inhaled deeply, trying to settle against him, but you were too nervous to relax, sitting stiff on his leg, like a fucking child on Santa's lap or something. It was weird and you felt horrible, small and insignificant, ugly and pathetic in the presence of such a handsome and successful man.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb pushing against your chin to turn your head slightly. You met his eyes, even though your vision was blurry. You blinked, unable to hold his gaze for long, overcome by a sudden wave of embarrassment.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice soft but the air of authority never left him. You jerked your chin up and swallowed, looking at him, your cheeks burning up even more. A smile grazed his hard face. “Good girl.”

His praise left a warm feeling in your stomach, and the longer you spent in the captivity of his dark eyes, the calmer you felt. His smile widened as he rubbed his thumb over the corner of your mouth. The motion gave you the courage to smile back, stiff and awkward, but it was still a smile.

“Tell me about your parents,” he then asked quietly, his hand leaving your face to settle on your thigh, holding you in a loose embrace on his leg. “Why can't they help you?”

You took a shuddering breath and told him that you didn't exactly part on good terms, that they hadn't wanted you to leave your hometown. You hadn't been in contact with them for months, probably years, there was usually just the occasional holiday or birthday call, sometimes not even that. You didn't have the money to make the trek across the country to meet them, and neither did they. You didn't grow up poor, but it hadn't been easy either. You were one of many children, your mother remarrying seemingly every five years, and you never had a connection to your father or any of the men she pulled into your home.

The words just tumbled out of your mouth at this point, and you had no idea how that was even possible. This man was a stranger, and yet he managed to loosen your tongue by simply holding you on his lap, listening intently, watching you closely, giving you attention you'd never had before in your life. It felt cleansing, and when you were done, your chest moved easier, the tension in your body melting slowly. His hand rubbed over your back, the other tightening around your waist as he pulled you a little bit closer.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

A croaked laugh escaped you. You licked your lips and looked away. “Thank you for listening,” you replied in a breathy whisper, timidly looking back at him. A subtle cough sounded from behind you. You flinched and turned slightly to face the woman sitting on the couch with her arms and legs crossed. “Thank you too, for... for inviting me into your home, for... helping me,” you added, watching her with an apologetic smile. You'd honestly forgotten about her for a moment.

“We haven't done anything yet, honey,” she said, pursing her lips. “But I think we've said enough. I knew you were the right one. What do you think, papito?” she added, looking past you at the man.

His hand was back on your face, turning it towards him once more. His eyes bored into yours as he replied: “Yes, I think you found the one.” Your cheeks flushed with heat. “Are you aware what we're asking of you, sweet girl?”

“To... to be your... submissive,” you answered quietly, still not quite understanding what that meant, but maybe it was enough to just roll with it. Of course it wasn't.

“And what does that mean to you? Why would you want that?”

You bit your lip, frowning slightly. “I... I need... someone to... tell me what to do,” you whispered, lowering your eyes to stare at his lips instead. “I think... it would help me... to have someone who... guides me... because... because I can't –”

Suddenly he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You gasped, your eyes wide. “Stop. You can,” he said, his voice harsh but there was a soft twinkle in his eyes. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You may need a little push into the right direction, but I will not tolerate you talking yourself down like this, okay? You hit a bump in the road, yes, but you will not wallow in it any longer, do you understand me?”

You stared at him, surprised and stunned by his words, by his dominant tone. “Yes, sir,” you breathed out, blinking slowly, your mind pausing the assault of doubts for a moment. “I'm sorry.”

He shook his head, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “No apologies. It's alright. Accept your failure and move on.” You felt tears burning in your eyes, his scrutinizing stare making you feel small all over again. “And no more tears. You have no reason to cry right now. We're offering you something that will change your life. It may not be easy at first, but I know you'll adjust. You're a fighter, I know it. You wouldn't be here if you weren't.”

Despite his demanding tone, you couldn't help it when a single tear slipped past your lashes after all. You quickly raised a hand and wiped at it, taking a shaking breath, ready to apologize again, but he just looked at you, stern but also somewhat gentle, patient. And you looked back, caught in his deep eyes, slowly feeling yourself relaxing again.

“We will give you a home, we will give you anything you want and need to find your footing again,” he continued quietly, his hand moving from your chin to curl around your head. “And you will do whatever we say. This is as much for you as it is for us. As you know, we've been looking for someone like you for a long time. It's not easy finding the right girl... but you're it, darling,” he said with a pointed look, pressing his fingertips into your hair, massaging your scalp in a very calming, almost hypnotizing fashion that made it hard not to purr under. His words only added to the sensation. “You are perfect. We can make this work, I am sure. If you're willing.”

“I am,” you croaked out quickly, leaning into his touch. “I want to. Please.”

“You will do anything we ask of you?”

His voice was low, his gaze still as intense. Behind you, you heard the woman getting up, the quiet click of her heels echoing in your ears as she approached you, putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Yes,” you breathed out, looking at him, before turning your head to look at her. You saw them exchanging a glance.

“Say it again,” she whispered, teasing her pointy nails into your clavicles. “Tell us what you want.”

“I... I want to be your submissive,” you said, shivering slightly, looking from her back to him. “I want you to tell me what to do. I will do anything you say.”

A soft smile cracked through the hard shell of his face, his gaze getting warmer, little creases visible in the corners of his eyes. While you watched him, you felt the woman's hands moving up the back of your neck until she gently tugged at your hair, turning you towards her, her face suddenly very close to yours, her lips brushing against your cheek.

“You'll be our little girl?” she asked in a low whisper, rubbing her nose against your jaw.

“Yes, ma'am,” you replied, breathing a bit harder, your mind reeling.

The man's fingers dug into the fabric of your dress when he leaned closer too, pressing his rough cheek to yours, the scratch of his beard sending deep shudders down your spine.

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked, his voice a thrumming vibration through your head.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped out, closing your eyes for a moment, your heart thundering in your chest.

They both cradled you closer, her lips on your right cheek, his on your left. “Will you call me Mommy?” the woman breathed against your skin.

“And me Daddy?” the man echoed, rubbing his bearded chin against your jaw.

You could barely breathe, the warmth radiating through your body was overwhelming. But there were no doubts, no matter how strange their request. You felt safe in their embraces, special. A sigh full of relief slipped from your trembling lips.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning into them.

They kissed your cheeks again, their arms tight around you. As strange as it should feel, it didn't. It felt good. Exactly what you had needed. A warm embrace, someone to squeeze all the worries right out of you. You settled against them, feeling lighter than you'd ever felt before.

“Thank you,” you added quietly, your eyes fluttering open. You met his gaze first. “Daddy,” you addressed him, watching how his smile widened, crow's feet deepening, before you turned your head and looked at the woman behind you. “Mommy.” She issued a happy little squeal and hugged you closer, her lips peppering soft kisses to your cheek.

You smiled back, numb in a way that was almost content, your eyes closing again as you simply melted into them. You felt tired, happy but tired, as if you'd finally reached your destination, a place you hadn't expected at all. Where you could let go.

“My good girl,” the woman, Mommy, whispered against the shell of your ear before she dragged the tip of her tongue along it. “Let's get you into bed. It's been a long day for you, hm?”

You shivered deeply, but you didn't protest when she let go of you and you felt two strong arms lifting you up. “Let's give her some space tonight, okay?” the man, Daddy, said, surely addressing his partner. “Get her accustomed.”

She sighed. “Fine. But tomorrow, I'll take you shopping and we'll do your hair and your nails and, oh, we'll do whatever else we find on our way. I'll pamper you stupid, sweet girl,” she laughed, her hand on your face as you were being carried through the large house that was to be your new home.

“Don't overdo it,” his voice sounded in your ear. “She's not your doll. I'd prefer her looking as natural as possible, okay?”

They continued their conversation, a hushed back and forth you couldn't pay too much attention to anymore, as you felt yourself floating through space, snuggling into a warm chest, firm and hard, but soft enough to lose yourself in. Your head was heavy when it hit the soft pillow, the mattress of the bed denting around you as the two adults sat down on its edges.

“Sleep tight, darling,” Daddy whispered and leaned over you to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. You sighed, your hand twitching, wanting to grab him, hold onto him, but he was gone before you could reach him.

“Good night, Daddy,” you mumbled, feeling yourself slipping into the sweet void of sleep.

On your other side, a set of hands found your face, and you felt Mommy's lips on yours again, a soft press, a short lick, a deep sigh. “Good night, sweetheart,” she said against your mouth, her hot breath fanning over your face.

“Night, Mommy,” you muttered, barely able to get the words out.

“We'll see you tomorrow.” The low voice echoed in your empty head, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face, as you sank into the soft bed, cuddling into the covers someone pulled over you.

You felt like a little girl again (ignoring the fact that you were 23* and supposedly your own person), tugged in by your 'parents', and even though you barely knew these people, you felt safe with them, accepted and taken care of. Somehow through the fog in your head you knew that your life would take a turn now, into different times, better times, because now you had two guiding lights with you, following you into the darkness that had consumed your life, eager to pull you back out.

And you were here for it, willing to do anything they asked in return. Willing to endure anything if only it would distract you from the nagging voices in your head. And endure you did...

Chapter 1 🔷️ Chapter 2 🔷️ Chapter 3

End notes: *By the way, I just chose a random number. If you want Reader to be younger or older, please imagine her like that. Also note that this is NOT a realistic representation of a BDSM relationship, I'm not a How-to-guide, I'm a writer juggling ideas around! This is fiction, remember?

Find below the TL;DR version of this chapter:

TL;DR: Reader drops out of college, is homeless and jobless, depressed and anxious, alone on the other side of the country with no friends and family, when a woman approaches her and takes her to a diner, asking her if she would like to be “her submissive”. Reader agrees, not really knowing what to expect, and the woman takes her to her home where she meets her partner. They ask again and she agrees, becoming their little girl, calling them Mommy and Daddy.

While you're here, I have a little side note to the tags I'm using: as a writer of original fiction, it is very hard to find any readers if I wouldn't poke my head into various fandoms, so I apologize if it irks you to see this kind of fiction under your favorite tags. But then maybe it's enough to pique your interest and you are already giving this a chance? Thank you if you do, maybe you can project your favorite blorbo(s) onto the characters present in this story.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: We go back to where Chapter 1 has ended and see how Mommy reacts to Daddy's plan.

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[midastouch013]

Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

--