#marvel vision imagines

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the forgetful Avenger

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: it not too long i so sorry

prompt: @glitchy-bean: “Hi!!! I hope you're doing good!!! Could I request smth with a really forgetful reader + the avengers gang? More like found family than anything romantic at all with a teen reader if that's okay!!!”

“well sorry” -you, consistently “i cant remember everything”

“you can’t remember anything” -nat

“yeah, y/n, were you dropped on the head as a baby or something?” -tony

“cut it out, guys. it’s not their fault they forgot thor’s birthday. besides, hes had a couple thousand” -steve

“are you calling me old, captain?” -thor

“at least im not the only one” -steve

it wasn’t just birthdays you forgot

much much more serious than that

rendezvous points, mission details, plans of attack, perp descriptions, where you put your keys, where you put your gun

you name it you forgot it

i mean—not always, but enough for it to be the running joke

“keep your comms on, y/n. not having a disaster like last time when you couldn’t remember whether to cut the red wire or green wire” -tony

“you wish i cut the wrong one” -you

“uh, no, that’s very harsh. i moreso wished you didn’t scare us half to death by nearly digging your grave” -tony

“oh ok i forgot” -you

“who left their macaroni and cheese in the microwave?” -vision

“damn! its cold. and crusted a little. how long did i leave this in here?” -you, poking your tray with a fork “and why are you using the microwave? you dont eat”

“this is a shared space, is it not?” -vision

“he’s got you there” -steve

“you’re just ganging up on me because you’re all miserable and you want me to be miserable too. i’m going to drive one of tony’s expensive cars now, you can’t stop me” -you, storming out

you walked right back in

“what’d you forget?” -steve

“wallet, phone, keys” -you

tony noticed

“where is y/n going with my car?” -tony

“not sure, just out” -steve

“probably gonna forget their turn signal and crash into someone’s car” -tony

as far as missions went, though, you were a bit of a powerhouse so you didn’t really need to be looked after on that front…just had to make sure not to blow anyone else’s cover

“hey, what’s the codeword again?” -you

“check your wrist, kid” -nat

“oh, right…okay thanks” -you

“*gasp* was i supposed to give the signal? i just kinda went in” -you

“ok, who told y/n they could give the signal. speak up now” -tony

*clint loudly snickering over comms*

kinda forgetting what you’re talking about in the middle of sentences sometimes but like, just glitching out

“something smells like it’s burning” -you “my cookies…”

you forgot to set a timer

and forgot you were making cookies

the avengers honestly did find it endearing

just a hyper kid who cant get their thoughts in a solid line

but they’d continue making jabs at you constantly

“maybe wanda can fix your memory problems” -tony

“i will not” -wanda

“oh well nevermind then” -tony

honestly with all your forgetfulness, you worried as you dusted away if anyone would forget about you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[fandomnerd9602]

Vision floats in to find Y/N freaking out…

Vision: what is the matter Y/N?

Y/N: I broke one of Wanda’s records! This is bad this is so bad!

Vision: oh dear. You appear distressed. If you want I can call Ms Maximoff to console you in your time of-

Y/N: no don’t!!

Vision: already done.

Wanda lands a split second later and sees the broken vinyl record…

Wanda: oh detka are you hurt?

Wanda hugs Y/N tight…

Y/N: no but your vinyl, I accidentally-

Wanda: shh I can buy another. You’re irreplaceable.

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

The End of Love

Natasha Romanoff x Taskmaster!Reader

Although I encourage everyone to read this, full disclosure it is male!reader. I tried to keep specified pronoun use to a minimum, but it can’t always be helped. There might be some mental rewriting required if you decide to go on.

Synopsis:

“You think too much,” she says.

You can’t argue with that. Because now that you’re looking at her in the light and you’re so close you can see each fractal of green in her eyes you're thinking there’s nothing more intimate than this.

She’s not your friend but if she were she’d be your best one.

Or, a look at who Natasha Romanoff was before the Avengers. Told through the eyes of the person who loved her the most.

Word Count: 43,000

Foreword: I wrote most of these scenes out of order and then proceeded to edit nothing so if something disagrees with something later on that’s why.

Acknowledgements: One) Title from the song with the same name by Florence + The Machine. Two) The final scene with Willem is indeed a copy from that scene in Good Will Hunting. Three) All rights to the original media.

It’s spring and something has shifted. You’re in bed with her when the feeling hits you. You are in bed together, legs twisted together under the sheets, the callous pads of her feet warm against the inside of your calf. You wonder if she feels it too.

You’ve been like this for hours. Nothing more, not tonight. Just the simple act of breathing in tandem with someone. Of holding tight until you don’t know how you could ever part again. 

She likes you because you are hers. Her mission partner, her choice, hers. There is power in choosing who you give yourself over to. And you understand but you prefer this. You hate to disappoint her, to stop her after just a kiss, knowing there is want for much more.

But her head is tucked beneath your chin and she’s so close she might as well have burrowed herself inside you and you hope it’s enough. Because this is safe. Her, always. But there are some things which you can’t speak. So she starts with a kiss on your cheek and you end with a kiss on her lips.

You are not at peace, but for now, wrapped in her arms and the scent of something that is so distinctly her, you are content. And you’ve done this so many times before, too many but somehow not enough all at once. 

The first time had been after your plane went down shy of returning to the Red Room. You were smaller then, less muscle and too long limbs and grief enough to suffocate. The walk back had taken two nights to complete. You would freeze to death if you didn’t share body heat after the sun went down. You both knew this. You slept back to back, bundled in extra shirts and the parachute from the jet. You both pretended you didn’t trust each other just a little more in the morning. 

Now you roll and stretch and Natalia makes a small noise of protest. You tell her you’re getting a glass of water, ask if she wants one too. She doesn’t answer.

The air in the motel room is stale and the light in the bathroom stutters like a heartbeat trying to stave off death. You fill a glass under the tap and drink until it’s empty again. Your breath wavers ever so slightly. You push down on the countertop a little too hard, your palms beginning to sweat. 

Then she’s behind you with a steady hand creating a rhythm of up-down, up-down on your back. You had tried to be silent, hoping she would not notice. You didn’t want her to see you like this. But she extricated herself from the warmth of the bed to be by your side anyway.

She knows you. And it’s terrifying.

She is not gentle but in these moments she is human, and so are you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You are not a person who apologizes. So you say it when the only thing it can mean is nothing. When it’s as weightless as the breath from which it comes from.

“It’s okay.” She is not a person who forgives. She is both the bullet and the finger behind the trigger. She is the dazzling starlet who shines the light in your eyes so you do not feel the knife in your back.

Your reflections in the mirror do not feel real. You make a point not to look too closely. Because when you do you see with the eyes of those who would put a bullet in your head for this. No, not quite. Because they would do much worse.

Lately you’ve been dividing time by the moments with Natalia and the moments in between. By one stolen night followed by a week, five weeks, a dozen. You never know. And it’s an adjustment because you can’t quite pinpoint the moment you stopped sleeping down the hall from her more nights than not.

You spend the time without her taking orders, putting on the Taskmaster mask, leaving messages in the form of bodies with sword-shaped slits. Then you’re still taking orders but wearing a different sort of mask, one where they can see your face but still can’t see you and you’re shaking hands and learning real politics is nothing like what you’ve studied. 

“You see what sort of dogs I have to deal with?” General Dreykov asks. Ever since the military dress uniform appeared in your room and you flew to Moscow as his “second” he’s been speaking to you more and more as a peer. Far from most of the time. But occasionally. Enough for you to remember and collect like they were some sort of medal. 

And Madame B, who has always detested you for being too emotional, had finally seemed to approve. One day on your way out after you had been training some of the young recruits she spoke to you across the wasteland of the dance studio. You stopped at the doorway to turn back toward her, but she stayed facing the wall like it was a window to another studio where she must judge a dozen more girls with bleeding feet.

“I never understood why he kept you around.” She always spoke clipped, enunciating each syllable like the crack of a cane. “You were an insolent child. Yes, you can dance but this power makes you think you’re invincible.” You watched her, too stunned to feel indignant about the criticism, too apprehensive to notice how small she was now that you were grown. “But. Perhaps it was not such a bad idea to rear you here. You will lead with an iron fist. And most importantly, you will understand.”

You left without saying anything.

What was there to understand. This place was all you knew.

You come back with a hand on your cheek. Natalia is staring into your eyes like they reflect the answer to life. But if your eyes were mirrors all she’d see was herself.

“You think too much,” she says.

You can’t argue with that. Because now that you’re looking at her in the light and you’re so close you can see each fractal of green in her eyes you're thinking there’s nothing more intimate than this.

She’s not your friend but if she were she’d be your best one.

She asks you to come back to bed. You nod and follow her into the dark. She is sitting up. On your stomach you drape yourself over the edge of the mattress and take her hand. Already you mourn this night. You cannot enjoy the time you have when you don’t know if it will be your last. You have become far too important to each other.

You can tell she feels the same. Misery has settled over the both of you like a cold, wet snow. She is tense as she runs her fingers through your hair. You lay your head in her lap and close your eyes against the danger lurking outside.

It is spring and something has shifted.

—

And it is that stupid feeling which makes you turn yourself over to the Americans after she is captured. That feeling which has transformed since you were small and angry. That feeling which has always been evolving; this new chapter taking an ugly turn. Perhaps you have let this go on for too long.

You are grown now, but still very much full of rage.

They show you a file they have on you which you think looks very hastily put together. Because they would have no reason to suspect you of anything. That’s the way your life has been curated. There is what you do in the daylight and what you do in the dark with a skull mask over your face and a hood over your head. These people are not the same. 

But you’ve made a purposefully big mess on American soil as Taskmaster and they’ve finally connected his face with the official headshot of one Junior Lieutenant of the Russian military.

Is this you, they ask and despite the handcuffs cutting into your wrists and the four guards with guns on their hips you laugh and call the man asking an idiot. The other guy is your twin brother. 

You don’t think he appreciated your answer because the next thing you know you’re being cuffed on the ear.

Along with the picture of you in your official uniform there is a mugshot of you from the day they brought you in. You don’t often see photos of yourself. The guy in this one looks dangerous. There are also two very grainy, very dark photographs pulled from security cameras of a figure who might be you from assassination runs you went on. You recognize yourself in one, and you’re pretty sure the other is of someone in a Halloween costume.

They’ve taken you in with nothing but the clothes on your back and your weapons and a watch of Dreykov’s he had given you a few years ago.

Even though your stomach is empty and your face is bruised you don’t help them put the pieces together. You tell them the same thing you’ve been saying. You know they have the Black Widow. You want to talk to her.

And weeks later when they think they have broken you down and built you back up with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s name around your neck they let you out of your cell.

The guy who slapped you that first day is your new handler. His name is Richard Kremer. You don’t think he likes you all that much. He’s old and he acts like he can go back and win the Cold War if he gets you to roll over.

But you’ve learned he can’t hit you now that you’re not a prisoner. So when you tell him you know his type, that he probably got discharged from field service because he broke down and nailed some kid in the head all he can do is tell you to shut up. I’m right, aren’t I? You ask and he is silent. Oh come on G.I. Joe. He tells you to get out and you happily oblige.

It is when you are outside on the track one day that you finally see Natalia again. You are allowed time outside with supervision–like you are a dog–and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier to see the sun. It’s just you, the rubber beneath your feet, and the wind in your hair. Because you are not worried about the rookie who’s been assigned to watch you. You can pretend you are somewhere else. You can pretend you are running back home instead of pacing holes through this American ground.

You tense when you hear another pair of steps. You do not want to go back inside. Five more minutes. But you look over your shoulder and the figure has bright red hair and astonishment in her eyes. 

You are so surprised to see her because you thought maybe you weren’t going to again that you stumble in your haste to stop. You skid and your feet fly out from beneath you. You catch yourself on your hands, bits of track sticking to your palms. 

Natalia laughs and you can’t fight the grin on your face. She offers a hand and you take it. You let her pull you to your feet. She doesn’t stop there. She is strong and you fall into her. You throw yourself over her, wrapping your free arm around her back. Your hands are still clamped tightly together. You are too relieved to see she is okay to care about who may be watching. Let them see. They know why you came here. And right now, she feels so familiar. 

She pulls away first. “You’re here,” she breathes, eyes wide. Her irises glitter in the sunlight. “Блять. I didn’t believe it.”

“You’re okay,” you say, still breathless. “They didn’t kill you. I thought they were going to kill you.”

“No, they didn’t.” She grows serious, the initial shock wearing off. “Change of plans, I guess.”

You switch to Russian now because you are finally leaving this place. “What idiots. To spare us both. Natalia, we can be out of here tonight.”

She stares at you for a moment, looking guilty. Finally, she shakes her head and very slowly explains, “I’m not going back to Russia. I’m staying here with S.H.I.E.L.D. We’ve come to an agreement. I’m going to defect.” You are bewildered and it must show in the whites of your eyes because she reassures, “I’m okay. This is my choice.”

You don’t know what to think, much less what to say. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter how they’re threatening you. I can get you out.”

“I’m not under threat.”

You narrow your eyes at her and back up a step. They must have messed with her mind, then. Because the Natalia you know would never do this. She was vicious like the edge of a blade and she was strong-headed like no one you’ve ever met. She could not be harnessed.

She grabs your hands. “Look at me. I’m still here.” You jerk because it is like she can read your mind. “It is better here,” she says. “They’ve offered me freedom and protection. That’s all.”

“How could you–” you start, but words don’t feel like enough to convey your disbelief. You shake your head. This can’t be happening. Because you’ve quit and run without permission. You were going to get forgiveness on your return. But you can’t go back without her. You tell yourself it’s because they wouldn’t accept that kind of failure, but you think she would be a tolerable loss compared to you. No. You don’t want to go anywhere without her. “You have to go back. We need to go back. I came here to free you from them.”

“And I’m telling you there’s nothing to free me from,” she says. “I’m using them to free myself.”

But you don’t hear her. You leave, a new word coloring the image of her.

Traitor.

And she’s dragged you to hell with her.

—

Inside your pillowcase is the newest spot you’ve chosen to hide your stash of stolen items. It’s not much, a rock from outside, a fork from the cafeteria, a broken matchstick you found on the ground. 

You are not allowed to have things. Nothing is yours, they tell you. Everything is shared as part of the collective. Don’t get caught up in the scheme of materialism. That’s why everyone takes turns doing the laundry and scrubbing down the showers and disposing of waste. But you don’t really want these things to own. You only do it because they tell you not to.

They found your collection when you put it under your bed and when you began carrying the things in your pockets. Both times they beat you for it. You’re sure they’ll find this one and make you count to fifty instead of twenty-five but there is something rotten inside you and you can’t help it. Maybe after this time they’ll finally thresh it out. 

It is night and you grope through the dark until you find the items. You find all three tucked safely where you left them. But something else pokes your finger as you retrieve your things. Your hand grasps a fourth item and you can’t see it but it feels like a small needle. You don’t remember taking this. Did someone put it here? How did they know about your stash? 

You lay curled on your side and take turns holding each item. You decide the mystery object is definitely a sewing needle. Maybe you did take it and you forgot. You move on. You’ve found a good rock this time. It is small and smooth and almost perfectly round. 

You think about throwing it at Madame T’s head. Then, you hide them again and fall asleep.

You wake up with a cold hand over your mouth. You slap it away and tackle the offending person to the floor before you’ve formed your first conscious thought. 

“Сука!” She hisses as her back lands on the wooden floor and you sit on her stomach. “When are you going to stop doing that?”

You stare down at the vague outline of a body before you slowly let her up. “When you stop waking me up by choking me out.”

“I’m not choking you. And it’s not my fault you cry in your sleep. I’m helping you. Would you rather have a guard come in here?”

“I do not cry in my sleep.” You wrinkle your nose.

“Yes you do. Like a little baby.” You imagine her smirking through the dark. You don’t know who keeps visiting you in the night, only that it’s the same girl each time and she’s probably in your class. You can’t see anything at night here. You know her voice, but there is little speaking during the day. And none of the girls talk to you anyway. Her hair is a little past shoulder length, but that’s the way most of theirs is. 

And she won’t tell you who she is. 

“Shut up,” you say, shoving her in the shoulder. 

“Hey, no fighting in the dark. It’s not fair.”

“I’ll stop when you tell me who you are.”

“What, so you can rat me out?” You’re sitting close so you don’t have to talk very loud. You can feel her breath against your face.

“I won’t,” you say. “I promise.”

She laughs. It is too bitter a sound for someone your age. “Like that means anything.”

“I’m going to figure it out eventually.”

She shakes her head, hair swishing against your cheek. “You haven’t yet. And you never will.”

“Yes I will.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Yes,” you say, pouncing on top of her. You’ve taken her by surprise. She reacts quickly, rolling the two of you an extra time so she can sit on your chest. 

“I’m too good for you,” she says. 

“Arrogance will get you killed,” you retort. You struggle beneath her but you’re about the same size and she knows exactly how to pin you down.

“That’s a big word for you. Who’d you copy that one from?”

You ignore her, still focused on trying to get up. 

“Stuck?” She asks, her voice light. “Don’t start fights you can’t win, Markov.” She lets you up and pads toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Another week passes and something else appears inside your pillowcase. It’s a ribbon from a ballet shoe. You take it out and hold it up in the light of day. You know for sure, you did not take this. Someone else was messing with you. Or helping, you don’t really know.

You watch the girls around you. There are the mean ones–which are most of them–and the nice ones–of which there used to be more. You think it’s one of the nice ones who comes to you at night because she is waking you from bad sleep. But then again she likes to argue and wrestle with you. So maybe it’s a mean one.

You keep fighting and dancing and learning things like how to blend into a crowd and how to craft the perfect lie. You don’t find out who’s been adding things to your collection. But you hope you do before the guards find this new hiding spot. 

They find it when you have to strip your bed for laundry day and realize you have nowhere to hide the new things. You stuff it all in your pockets again and they call you stupid for not learning your lesson last time. So they drag you screaming and kicking downstairs and strip you naked. You bite one of them when they try to tie your hands to the pole because you remember what they told you would happen for the third time you were caught stealing. A boot collides with the side of your head and you go limp for a second. The big things in your life make you forget how small you are. 

There is a moment to breathe and for the ringing in your ears to subside. Then, just as the world refocuses, hellfire is released upon your backside.

You lay upstairs on your stomach and do not sleep. There are deep trenches of blood carved into your back. You could barely crawl into your unmade bed after they dumped you back on the floor in your room. 

You find a flower when you have to go outside the next day. It is bright and yellow and a rarity out here where everything is dead most of the year. You don’t take it.

The fourth night after you finally sleep, your body forcing itself to shut down despite the pain. You are getting better. But not fast enough. 

You only groan when you wake and realize there’s a hand on your face. 

“Shhh,” she says. Then she is silent. You think she is looking at the door. 

You push yourself up, drawing blood as you bite your lip. You slide into the corner away from her. “I can’t do this tonight,” you say. “I’m so tired.”

“I had to. It was going to be them or me.” She pauses. Then, slowly, the mattress dips as she climbs onto the bed.

“I’m serious,” you say. You are hurting and she is strong. She cannot know this. “It’s not fucking funny anymore.”

“Geez, I’m not going to hurt you,” she says. “I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to. Here. Take this.”

“I can’t see you.”

“You are impossible.” She brushes your arm. You recoil. She grabs your hand. It feels odd, like she’s trying to be gentle. She flips your palm up and places something in your open hand. It’s soft and delicate and feels a little like rubber. You roll it carefully through your fingers. You brush your other hand over the top and feel the petals. They are silky. Nothing can compare. It still smells like outside, like life. 

You realize she is the one who has been collecting prizes for you. 

“You’re trying so hard to watch out for me you forget I’m looking out for you too,” she says.

“I can’t take this,” you say. “They’ll find it. You have to take it back.”

“No,” she says. “Scoot over.” 

You obey, trying to hide how much it hurts to move. She takes your spot in the corner and you hear a ripping sound. “What are you doing?” You hiss.

She doesn’t answer. “Give me the flower.” You hand it to her, brushing her hand as you do. You wait in silence until she turns back around. “There’s a little hole in your mattress. I put it in there. They won’t find it. I promise.”

“Like that means anything,” you say, mimicking her tone. And as you do, you realize who you’re speaking to. It just clicked. You know this voice. “Natalia.”

“Look who’s finally earned his detective badge.” You wish you could see her smile instead of just hearing it.

—

You stay at S.H.I.E.L.D., thinking she will see sense eventually. You can’t leave the campus yet so you spend a lot of time wandering and watching. You count how many paces it takes to get from one building to another, estimate how quickly you could run. You look up at the buildings, wonder if you could climb any of them. Every day that passes is excruciating. You can feel the Red Room getting farther away. It’s been far too long since you’ve been in contact with them. You haven’t had the chance to tell them you’re coming back. That you’re not a traitor.

The only thing that makes life bearable is Natalia. She said she just wants to be called Natasha now and it confuses you even more. She really is changing.

You tell them you want to defect too. You pretend like you are fine. Like you are not in fact drowning.

You spend time in Natalia’s room, which is exactly like yours but she has a couple of books and a badly drawn picture of what looks like a person. You can’t really tell.

You point to it. “What’s this?”

She smiles. She’s been doing a lot more of that lately. It’s certainly not the worst thing. “It’s you. In your combat suit. You like it? Clint drew it.”

“He must be some kind of artist then. I could barely tell that that thing was a human.”

She laughs, and for a second the sound makes you forget how she has turned traitor. Because it is sweet and real and uniquely hers. “Look,” she says pointing. “This is your mask. See the eyes and the jawbone?”

“So those are teeth?”

“Yeah. And this arc is the hood, and these lines are the cape.”

“What are those?”

“Your katanas.”

“Why are there five of them?”

“There’s not. These are the swords,” she says, pointing to two lines angled toward the bottom of the page. She moves her finger to three lines above the figure’s head. “I think these are anger lines.”

“Anger lines?”

“Yeah. To signify danger. You know you’re pretty scary in that thing.”

You shrug. “Sure, I guess. And what did I do to have this honor?” You ask.

“You put yourself on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s shit list.” She takes her attention from the sketch and looks at you. “Clint said they didn’t know who they had at first, so he drew me this.”

“And you kept it.”

“I needed decoration. What’s better than a picture of you?” She smirks and nudges you in the ribs. “Like a guardian angel.”

You nod because she’s flirting with you and it’s making your head spin just a little bit. You like her even though you know you shouldn’t and you think she likes you too. You aren’t dating because people like you don’t ‘date’ but there’s something, just below the surface. Like an undertow waiting to drag you under if you wade out too far. You can sense it, like a coming storm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she says. “Why did they send you after me? And in such a dramatic fashion. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know,” you lie. No one sent you. Maybe you were already out in the middle of the ocean. “You’re the best they’ve got. There’s two dozen widows but there’s a reason you’re the one everyone’s been chasing.”

She shakes her head. “No. You’re the best they’ve got. Dreykov would never trade you for me.” She’s looking at you like she knows you’re lying. You hate to find that there’s hope in her expression. Like she’s waiting for a confession. But the truth is unacceptable. You cannot say you ran after her like a prince in a storybook. You cannot open yourself up. 

She has never hurt you. And you will not give her the opportunity now.

So you gamble on the chance she doesn’t know for sure. You shrug and look away. Because you’ve never been as good as her at hiding things. “Guess he did.” You open your mouth again.

“I’m not going back,” she interrupts because she knows what you’re going to say. She puts a hand on your chest, the other on your cheek. “We can make a place for ourselves here.” Despite her conviction she still sounds disappointed. Doesn’t she know she’s won?

“I know,” you say.

Eventually a month goes by but you have not left. By some sickness she has you trapped. This is why Dreykov had warned you against the widows. Because they spun and they lied and now you could not bear to leave her in this strange place.

There are weekly mandatory shrink sessions you must attend as part of your agreement. You aren’t cleared for missions unless you get their green light. It’s a whole fraud that seems to have everyone in this country up in arms but you are sure it’s just S.H.I.E.L.D. trying another clever way to extract information from you. The discussions at least have been mildly amusing. You don’t have much else to focus on right now.

You’ve been transferred to a different “professional” twice now. The first one had obviously been scared of you so you played into it. He was asking you about your life and about guilt so you spent the entire hour making up stories that were unbelievable even by your standards. You told him your job used to be to torture political enemies and captured agents. You stared him down and tried to blink as little as possible when you told him you enjoyed skinning them alive and hearing them scream.

So the next time you go in it’s office 109 instead of 212 and there’s a woman instead of a man. She’s kooky and has you lay on a couch as she asks about your childhood. So you tell her a story too. 

“My father,” you start, even though you hadn’t had one since you were six years old. But none of these people knew anything from where you came from. “He was a terrible alcoholic. He used to slap my face and shake me like a rag doll. I mean, is that what a real man is supposed to be?”

“No, honey. But it’s okay. You’re safe now. Go on,” she says. “How did that make you feel?”

“It made me so angry, doc. So one day I said to him, ‘I’m gonna show you what I’m made of.’ I grab his shotgun that he keeps under his bed and blam! Gunpowder and lead.” You open your eyes and her face is looming over you, confusion starting to bloom. You break out singing, because this is the good part. “I’m goin’ home, gonna load my shotgun. Wait by the door and light a cigarette. He wants a fight, well, now he’s got one. And he ain’t seen me crazy yet!”

You’re smiling because you heard the song on the radio once and you’d remembered it and the singer’s accent after all these years. Her confusion has turned to anger and suddenly the session is over. Oh no.

Kremer has a talk with you after this incident. He tells you to cut the shit and sit through it like everyone else does. Then he reminds you what will happen if either him or one of these therapists deems you unfit for work at S.H.I.E.L.D. But you don’t care. They’re not going to get the best of you twice.

But you go another week to a new office with something to prove. You’ve got a winning streak to maintain. This guy has glasses and graying hair and a stomach that’s a little round. There are shelves and shelves of books and you pace the room, grazing your hand over the spines.

“You got one in here that’s going to tell you how to fix me?”

“Hello,” he says. “My name is Dr. Francis, but you can call me Willem.” He is soft spoken and you think you can break him like you did the first one. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“Okay Willem. Sure.” You slouch across from him in a chair level with his. He’s not behind a desk like the first man or hovering over you like the woman.

“Do you like to read?” He asks, because you’re still scanning the shelves.

You used to, but not really anymore. “I’m not working here because I’m some genius who sits around reading all day.”

“No. Certainly not.” Was he making fun of you? “Has anyone told you how this works?”

You shake your head.

“Well I, along with my colleagues, are not ‘S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.’ We’re privately contracted. You know what that means, yes?”

“It means you probably get more money for sitting around and talking nonsense all day.”

“Sure. You’re not wrong. But it also means I don’t owe S.H.I.E.L.D. anything. Whatever is said in this room stays in this room. My only obligation is to make sure you’re not a danger to yourself or others.”

You eye him and his cardigan, wondering how he could walk out of the house with something like that on. “That’s what I’ve been missing!” You snap your fingers. “You’ve got my full trust now Willem, goodness I can’t believe what a great resource this is. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you everything.”

He chuckles. “You’re funny, aren’t you?” 

“I’m only as serious as this whole charade is,” you say gesturing around at the office which looks so out of place here at S.H.I.E.L.D. The clutter on his desk in the corner, the old wood furnishing, the acoustic guitar lying among stacks of books. “But okay sure. Let’s say you’re not going to turn around and blab to Kremer so he can be more efficient about making my life harder. You’re only here to make sure I’m not a danger.” You make little air quotes with your hands when you say this. “You do know what kind of missions are conducted here, no?”

“Of course. I did my time in the military.”

“Really?”

“This surprises you.”

“Yeah, I mean, come on,” you wave your hand at him. “I could kill you with my eyes closed.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I have no doubt you could. But as I was saying. I don’t mean you can’t be dangerous. Just that you have to know when to pick it up and put it away. For example, now was not the time to threaten me with mortal violence.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, getting out of the chair. You couldn’t do that. Violence was who you were. And you were tired of this anyhow.

 You make it to the back wall where there’s a window and on the sill there’s a picture frame. You pick it up, showing it to him. “Is this your family? Your kids are pretty cute.”

“Watch it,” he says.

 You flip the frame around and look down at it. “How old are they? The little one can’t be older than eight, no? What a shame I know her father’s name.”

Maybe it’s because you don’t actually plan to find his family or maybe it’s because you’ve underestimated him that your heart pounds when you look up and he’s in your space with a serious look on his face. 

“Don’t fuck with my family or I will end you.”

“Touchy, touchy,” you say.

“Get out.”

And that’s how your first interaction goes. So you’re surprised the next week when you hear you’ve been ordered back with Dr. Francis.

You stroll into the office like nothing ever happened. “You again. How are your kids doing?”

“Shut up and sit down,” he says.

You mock pout but sit anyway.

“How old are you?” He asks.

“You’ve got my file. I’m sure it says somewhere in there.”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you.” He’s wearing another ridiculous outfit. A gray polo shirt with a brown patched cardigan.

“So you can make some big point about how I’m young and don’t know anything, right?” You ask. Because this feels awfully familiar. 

You remember a time when you were twelve and told this Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) officer named Evgenia you were eighteen when she asked. Zhenya laughed and said, yeah right, if you’re eighteen then I’m forty. When you’d finally told the truth she looked at you funny. Do you know what this assignment is? You told her this was a joint mission to take out high-ranking members of a certain Russian mob family who had overstepped the line between civilian and state.

You’re a little young for this, no? She’d asked. 

No one had ever given pause because of your age before. You assured her you were capable of this assignment. 

She let it go but didn’t stop calling you “kid” for the whole two weeks. You hated it until you realized she didn’t mean it in a bad way. It was kind of nice, actually. To feel looked after. Carrying things on your own was so exhausting.

She made you try Oreshki as you sat in a hotel working on the mission reports because she couldn’t believe you’d never had it. Then she asked what your parents were feeding you at home because she’d never seen someone your age so strong. You told her your parents were dead and she’d stared at you for a few minutes. You pretended not to notice. 

When it was time to go back she told you to look after yourself. She seemed reluctant to let you go.

You assured her you would be fine. You always were.

Now you stare at Willem and wonder where he wants to go with this question.

“Something like that,” he says. “Come on, it won’t hurt you.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” you lie. Because there’s no way the number in the file isn’t just an estimate.

He’s quick with his response. “No you’re not.”

You’re about to tell him yes, you are but there’s something in his eyes, in his posture. He’s confident you’ve lied. “Fine. I’m twenty-two. Happy?”

“Exactly. You’re twenty-two. You’re a kid. You’ve barely reached the age we let kids have alcohol in this country. Tell me, have you ever read anything by Shakespeare?” You shake your head. “You ever swam in the ocean?” Another no. “Been to an art museum? Hiked up a mountain? Fallen in love?”

You stop him then. “Love is a scam. It’s some great ideal everyone chases like an idiot because they think their worth resides with another person. It’s an opiate for the masses. You tell someone they’ll be fulfilled if they find this ‘love’ and they’ll blind themselves in pursuit of it. People are more easily controlled when they are distracted by emotion.”

“I don’t think so. And I’ve been in love for twenty years. Almost as long as you’ve been on this earth. Love has brought me great joy and great sorrow. But you wouldn’t know about that. About giving yourself over to someone else. About allowing someone to open your eyes, to challenge you. I am not distracted by emotion, and even if I was I wouldn’t care. Because at least I’ve lived.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

He raises a hand. “Or you’re a coward. You want to think you’re above it all. You had Dr. Casey thinking you were a psychopath. You wanted me to think you were a monster. But you’re not. You’re a scared kid with his chest puffed out. You’re the kid who pushes others on the playground because you’re getting pushed at home. But guess what. I can’t be pushed.

You’re scared to talk because you don’t know what might come out. Scared to let people in because you think they won’t like what they see. How many people have you talked to since you’ve been here? How many people knew you, and I mean really knew you back in Russia? What about that young woman who got here a couple weeks before you? You’re unique. I’ll bet I’ve never met someone like you and I never will again. So I can’t get anywhere, I can’t start if you don’t help me. You have to talk to me.”

And after that he dismisses you, just like that.

The next time you come back the ball is in your court. He doesn’t talk to you, just sits and stares expectantly. Well two could play that game. You’ll show him you won’t talk if you don’t want to. So you sit and count away the seconds and leave when the hour is up.

Another week passes and you’re in his office again. And he’s silent, again. 

You won’t be the one to break. But you’re looking at the guitar on the stand in the corner with all its dust and you think it’s as safe a conversation starter as any.

“Do you play?” You ask, nodding at the instrument.

Willem sits up and blinks a couple times like he hadn’t been expecting you to speak. “No. Not really anymore. And to be honest I could never really play even when I used it. Shame, it’s a beautiful instrument.” He gets up to retrieve the guitar and begins to tune it. “I’ve never really had the ear for music.” He plucks at a string and goes onto the next one.

“Wait,” you say. “Go back. That one’s not right.”

“Too flat or too sharp?”

“What?” Just turn it a little more.” He complies and finally it sounds right. You nod and he goes to the next.

“I didn’t peg you as the musical type,” he says as he plays and you nod or shake your head.

“I’m not. Just a feeling, I guess. I know what notes sound like.”

“But you don’t know this is the ‘E string?’”

“No, nothing like that. I can play a song though.”

“Let’s hear it then, champ.”

He hands you the guitar and you play a song you saw someone playing one time on a mission in Mexico City. There are the movements of the man in the street who had captivated you to stop and watch, and there are your own hands, years later, mirroring his. 

When the song finishes Willem is quiet, then asks, “When did you learn that?”

“I didn’t really learn,” you shrug, like it’s not a big deal. “Saw a guy do it once. Copied what he did.”

“Do you know what chords you used? Can you play anything else?”

“No.”

“Unbelievable.”

You smile, because you have impressed him. “Neat party trick, huh?”

“Seems like it could be more than just a party trick.”

You tilt your head back and forth because he’s right but you don’t want to talk about that. “I don’t use it to sing pretty songs, that’s for sure. Where’d this interest of yours come from anyway?”

“My wife got it for me actually. When we were overseas I used to go on and on about missing music. About how I was butthurt having to join the army because it meant I never got to learn how to play the guitar. And she remembered. And the first Christmas after we got home, even though we barely had enough money to get by, she got me this. That’s part of what love is.”

“She’s ex-military too, then?”

“Yes,” he says, like he’s trying to recapture an old dream. “Let me tell you something. Wait, actually, this first. You ever been in a warzone?”

You hesitate for a second and he must see the debate in your mind so he clarifies.

“I mean a real warzone. Out in the trenches with a couple hundred other guys trying to fall asleep to the sound of bomb fire. Not knowing who’s going to have their leg blown off or their head opened up before the next sunrise. Knowing you’re all out there as nothing but cannon fodder, that everything they told you about the army before you left was nothing but a load of horseshit. And you ate it because your life was shit too.” You shake your head. “Well, it’s damn lousy. You have to keep each other’s chins up somehow. There was this joker in my squad, you see. Terrible sense of humor but we all laughed anyhow because things were just that bad. One day, she looks over at me and says, “Imagine this. Two fish are in a tank. One looks at the other and says, ‘Hey, do you know how to drive this thing?’””

You blink at him but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “That has to be the most awful joke I’ve ever heard.”

“It is!” Willem agrees. “But you know what? That’s the moment I fell in love with my wife.”

Now you are surprised. “Because she told you a bad joke?”

“No. Because she was so serious she didn’t know how to be funny but she always cracked herself up anyhow. And I loved her for it.”

“She was?”

“Pardon?”

“You said she was serious. Is she dead?”

“No. We are,” he pauses, quieter now. “We are separated for now. I suppose it’s been long enough that I've started talking about her in the past tense.”

“But you said she’s your wife.”

“She still is, nothing’s official, but,” he trails off, like he’s given up already.

“What?” You smirk. “You cheat on her? She cheat on you? Found some other guy who thought she was pretty and laughed at her dumb jokes?” When he doesn’t react you try something else. “You beat her up?” His head snaps to you and his eyes harden like you’ve pulled out a gun. “That’s it, isn’t it? You talk about war and all this stuff like I need a lesson but you can’t even handle it yourself so you spend all night drinking and you come home and she’s there with her ‘where were yous’ and her idiocy that you didn’t see before because you told yourself you were in love but now she’s annoying the life out of you so you try and put her head in the wall. Right?”

His glare has faded and it makes you a little nervous because it was always a bad sign when Dreykov stopped yelling and got quiet. “Yes,” Willem says calmly as if you hadn’t just gutted him open. “There’s one thing you’re wrong about though. I never had to tell myself I was in love with her. I just was. And I still am. She was right to kick me out.”

You puff your cheeks and blow out air. “You are a bigger идиот than I thought. Have you apologized?”

“Yes. I did the next morning when I realised what I’d done.”

“And she didn’t accept it.”

“No, she did,” he says, dragging a large hand down his face. “She did but I thought some time apart would be for the best.”

  “So you could get yourself a shrink.”

“Not exactly. They say therapists make the worst patients. I’ve found that to be true.”

“Well,” you say. “Sounds like you’re a coward too.”

Willem smiles. Just the smallest upturn of his lips. “Time’s up.”

—

The wilderness is no place for two children. Especially not the barren wasteland of Siberia. The boy has a rifle slung around his shoulder and no coat. The girl has two coats. Blood from a wound on her side drips out onto the snowy terrain underfoot. But she is strong. She refuses the boy’s offers to help her walk.

A long trail of footprints in the otherwise unblemished landscape leads back to a small massacre site.

The children are hungry but cannot stop because something is chasing them. It’s why they had to leave the little house with the fire and the old woman. 

They will hide, they will kill, they will walk until they collapse so the ground may swallow them whole. 

Because the wilderness is no place for two children. It certainly cannot be the place for three.

—

More weeks pass and you keep living and you try not to think too much about how Natalia is doing fine for herself. She has a team now with agents called Barton and Hill and Coulson and May. 

You do not talk so often, even if this is the most freedom you’ve had to talk since you’ve known each other. At first you tried to convince her to go back but no. She is adamant about staying here, about untying herself rope by rope from the Red Room.

The things you exchanged seem so trivial now. You know her favorite color is blue and that she is fine with coffee but would much rather have tea and that she has a scar beneath her collarbone. But here such information is freely given. 

You see other men talk to her in the cafeteria, watch her in the gym. She has always been the most beautiful woman in the room. 

And it is one day when you are eating lunch together that another agent approaches. He has an apple in his hand and sits next to Natalia like he knows her. “Natasha,” he greets. You don’t like how close he is. He extends a hand across the table. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he says. “I’m Agent Matthew Hunter.”

You take his hand and shake it, squeezing a little harder than necessary. “Nice to meet you.” This is a lie. He is entitled and he is American and you would prefer he left you alone.

“Matt,” Natalia says, smiling.

He turns to face her like you aren’t there. “Listen I got to run, but I haven’t had the chance to say how great of a job you did on the Berlin mission last week. I wanted to catch you before I forgot.” 

She licks her lips and turns her shoulders toward him. “You weren’t too bad out there yourself.” 

He waves her off. “Are you kidding me? I have never seen someone handle a room like that before.” Agent Hunter looks at you next but his body is still facing Natalia. “Did she tell you about this? I mean what a fucking bombshell.”

“No,” you say. “We haven’t had the chance.”

“Ah, well. You should really ask her. Hell of a story, hell of an agent.”

Natalia looks down at her lap, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. 

“Anyway. I have got to go hit the gym. No days off, am I right?” 

He is looking at you and expecting a response so you just say, “Sure.”

“Alright, nice to meet you, man. See you later Nat.”

You watch him walk off like he owns the place and it’s only when you turn back that you realize Natalia had been watching him too.

You take a drink of water and ask, “Do you like him?”

She snaps her attention to you. “Who, Matt? Yeah he’s nice. A bit talkative, but that’s all right. What did you think?”

You ignore her question. “No, I mean. He was flirting with you.”

“I know that.”

“So,” you gesture. She would lead you in circles until your head twisted off if you let her. “Are you going to get with him?”

Her smile fades like you’ve asked if she was planning to kill him instead. “No. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Why not?” You ask. “He’s handsome, young enough. You said you liked him.”

“Because I don’t want him.” And there is this look on her face like you have grown a second head. “I’m not just going to go run around sleeping with people.”

“I didn’t say you should. I was just wondering because I could tell you were into him.”

She scoffs. “I’m not ‘into him.’ He’s friendly. He gave me a compliment. What's so bad about that?”

“Nothing. It was just a question, that’s all.”

She is quiet for a moment, dragging her fork through the last grains of rice on her plate. “You know I like you too, right?”

“Of course. And I like you.”

“No. I mean, in the way you think I like Matt.”

Now it is your turn to choose silence. The two of you kissed and shared a bed sometimes when you had only ever slept alone before. And Natalia was the only person you’ve had sex with, at least in any way that counted. But that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t know any better and neither had she. There was bad and there was worse. You just happened to be sufficient for her when the bar was six feet under the ground. 

“You know, that doesn’t mean anything. You don’t owe me,” you say.

“I know I don’t owe you anything. It’s not about owing,” she says, shaking her head in incredulity. “You’ve been weird since we’ve been here. It’s not a death sentence anymore.”

“I’m saying just because we got together before doesn’t mean you can’t go after this guy now. It was a matter of circumstance you know. There was no one else to choose so you chose me, I get it.”

Her eyes narrow as you say this. You speak for her, but you do not know.  “What are you talking about?”

But you’ve built up steam now and you think if you stop you won’t get the words out because you’re sure they’re not true. You speak for the man you want to project. The one Dreykov would approve of. “And you’re pretty and you came on to me so,” you shrug. “But come on. You were a warm body. So were a lot of the other widows. And so was I. Let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is.” 

But it is a big deal. You ignore all the times you held each other in the middle of the night. The time she taught you how to braid her hair. All those times you made each other laugh. These are the things you take great effort to minimize.

And you are so focused on pushing her away because you are a bird with its wings clipped hurtling toward the ground that you don’t notice her own rage building.

She is used to being silenced. She just never thought you would join the long line of others who’ve treated her as lesser than. She thought you understood, that you were different.

“Fuck you,” she says, looking you straight in the eye. You can’t read the expression on her face. She has always been good at making her face vacant, like marble.

She leaves. Not that there was anything to leave in the first place. 

You tell yourself this is what you wanted. For her to be free. Free of you and free of any guilt that might plague her. Not that the Black Widow felt guilt.

But if this is what you wanted, then why did you feel like you had just severed a limb?

But you are fine too. You have a team with agents called Rumlow and Ward and Rollins. They are callous and crass and they remind you of the guards back home. They do not care where you have come from, despite the fact you still bear the title Junior Lieutenant, technically. Despite what everyone else thinks.

You are strong like the fabled Captain America and could home a bullet into any target with a blindfold on. That’s all they care about.

They say they do not care about your accent that you wear like a scarlet flag. And sometimes, you join them when they go out to drink. Ward and Rumlow are outspoken. Rollins is not. But they all share the same cynical view of the world. And so do you. Maybe that’s why you get along.

There is control and there is chaos. You are all agents of the former.

After word about your squadron placement gets around, no one eyes you in the hall like they want to fight. No one questions your–albeit minimal–authority. At least not to your face.

Missions with them are quick and bloody. You use a rifle most of the time now. One that is bulky and can fire an unnecessary amount of rounds per second. You are a strike unit, so you creep up to the outside of an office or warehouse or home and when everyone is crouched like predators in the shadows you jump out with blazing muzzles. You can’t really call what you do fighting.

It is one day you are out with them that you run into an old friend. She is one of the ones you are hunting. S.H.I.E.L.D. likes doing that, you’ve figured out. Sending you out on missions to destroy what you’ve spent your life building. What you were supposed to sit at the head of the table of one day.

They want to see when you might snap. They want you to cut and run. They do not believe you can change. You don’t believe it either.

But she tells you, and oh is it nice to speak Russian again, that Dreykov wants your head. You cannot go back. You hadn’t wanted to be a traitor, but you’d lit the torch when you let the Americans take you in. And now when you look back, the bridge is engulfed in flames.

She says rumor of your defection has grown and spread like a tumor on Dreykov’s name. You’ve humiliated him by turning your back, and now he is losing power.

“But,” you say. “I didn’t. I don’t want–I’m not loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She stops you. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But I’m still–”

“You’re not listening to me.” She grabs you by the arm. “If you go back there you will die. Apparently Dreykov was kind of a black sheep. They were all looking for a reason to strip him of his rank, and now that he’s lost his two best weapons no one will listen to him. The entire Red Room is on alert, looking for a way to capture you.” She stabs a finger to your chest.

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say. “But there must be some way to clear this up. If I could talk to him I know I could explain. Or if I could get back. If I talked to the Headmistress.” You know she would understand and she would not be mad. Because she was stern but she never hit you. You used to talk every week in her office, just the two of you. You missed her.

Your friend shakes her head. It’s a “no,” but it’s also full of admonishment. 

“What?” You ask.

“Always so eager to please.”

“It’s called having honor.” 

There are footsteps outside the office you’ve pulled her into. She tugs on your arm and you retreat around the corner.

“We don’t have much time,” you say.

She’s silent for a moment, then, “Come with me.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving. It won’t be hard. No one will be looking for me as long as you have that S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on your chest. I’m saying you should leave too.” She puts a hand on your cheek, makes you look her in the eye. “We could be extraordinary.”

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Why not?” There is disbelief, there is frustration. “You just said it yourself. You’re not loyal to them. And these brutes have nothing on us. We can disappear.”

“You should go. I really think you should. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

“I wanted it with you.”

“Goodbye, Svetlana,” you say, kissing her on the cheek. She is still.

On your way out, she speaks up. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? It’s funny. You’ve always been so blind when it comes to her. You think anyone can know the Black Widow? She will drain the life from you.”

She leaves you with a note with an address on it.

“In case you change your mind.”

When you get back you hide the slip of paper in the nightstand with Dreykov’s watch.

—

You pull on the hideous shirt with the too large sleeves and try not to think about how ridiculous wearing tights is. You grab your shoes and head down the hall to the other dressing room. 

When you enter the dancers that are actually a part of this company stare at you. The four widows–excluding Natalia–don’t bat an eye. Modesty was a long lost concept for all of you. Especially around each other. Nastya looks over and smiles at you. You wink back.

The understudy for the lead part–who like the rest of you earned the role after members of the main cast suddenly became ill the night before–finds you like a heat-seeking missile. Her blood red hair is pulled back tight in a bun, and the fluorescent lights pale her skin to a moonlight shade. She looks like she has come from another world to ravage war upon this one. She is muscle and sinew and bone. She is magnificent. 

She snakes an arm around the back of your neck and kisses you on the jaw. She wants them all to see. You are hers in this show and hers backstage. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You go out and perform on auto pilot because you watched a recording of the show once and now the movements are ingrained in the memory of your muscles. You focus on the crowd, try to spot your targets. There is a war going on in the shadows. You’ve all been sent to end it. To show them the Red Room is superior. They won’t even know what hit them. 

You have a break to watch Natalia perform her solo. You stand in the right wing and watch her under the spotlight, dazzling the crowd. Even here she is dangerous. She is like a panther getting upwind of its prey. Every move is measured, every step beaten into submission because of how many times she practiced. She makes herself delicate, but you know better.

There is a part where she almost rushes off stage as if reaching for something, but an invisible force drags her back to the center. You are standing in the spot she reaches for. Maybe you knew she would end up here, maybe you didn’t. It doesn’t matter because her eyes snap open and for a half second you lock eyes. The audience members aren’t the only ones she’s made believe in her desperation. 

After the first act ends Anastasia and Yeva leave for the targets’ hotel where they will be waiting. The four of you who are left finish the show and keep eyes on your targets. When you take your bow you are holding Natalia’s hand. Then you slink into the shadows, ditch the outfit, and put on your mask and hood. 

You leave as a unit out a back door and climb to the roof. It is raining outside. Not more than a drizzle, but the brick underfoot is slick and your targets will be hiding under coats and umbrellas. Stefanya kneels to assemble a rifle that had been packed into a violin case. You crouch in the shadows, feel the rain begin to soak through your pants. 

The crack of the rifle is loud like lightning and the crowd parts around the dead man. An ambulance is called but you know it is too late. The four of you split there. You will find each other later in an apartment building across town. 

You know Natalia will beat the ambulance to the hospital and an accident will befall the entourage of the dead. Nowhere is safe.

You follow a fleeing family of four to their car. The father is a high-ranking official of your enemy, the mother a scientist. They both know tonight is no accident. They run into the dark, down an alleyway instead of along the main road. Smart. You watch them go. You know where they will end up. 

You get in a vehicle which has been left for you and follow them out of the city. You drive until the houses have become sparse and so has the light. The rain is pouring down in sheets now. You step on the gas and flip the car’s brights on. The front of your car rams into the back of theirs. The sedan spins out of control, tires squealing against the wet asphalt. The car drifts into a ditch and you pull up beside it. 

You step out of your car and draw your swords. Because this is a message, not an accident. Two shots are fired your way. You duck behind the car and let the guy shout insults at you. But you hear the fear in his voice. He saw who they’d sent for him.

You rush through the dark, cape heavy and soaking behind you. You ram your fist into the passenger window and slide the end of one sword through the woman’s mouth. There are more shots but you have already disappeared again into the night. 

The children in the backseat scream. Their anguish refuses to be drowned out by the storm. You hear them as if they are crying right into your ears. The man gets out and slams the door shut. You see him in the flashes brought by the lightning. He yells for you to come out. So you oblige. You launch yourself onto the car roof and stare down at him. Here I am, you say. He points the pistol at you and you slice his hand off. He goes down, still cursing. The last thing he does is ask you to leave the kids out of this.

You go up to the backdoor. Didn’t he know? This was a family affair.

You tell yourself what you have done tonight is for the greater good. Many more will live off the blood of this sacrifice. 

When you get back to the rendezvous point you find only Stefanya and Marina. You were supposed to be the last one back. Where are they, you ask. They are quiet. Stefanya looks you in the eye and says none of them ever showed. You know she is lying. You take a breath and step closer so you may look down on them. They are not intimidated by you. Even in the dark, even with the rain outside, even with your face behind a mask they know you will not hurt them. 

Because you all grew up together. And that means something. 

So you draw back your hood and remove the mask. You let them see the worry in your eyes. Come on, you say. What happened.

They are quiet for a moment longer. Then, Marina whispers. Yeva and Nastya never returned. Natalia went after them. She told us not to tell you. 

You put your gear back on and rush out the door. Stay here, you call over your shoulder. You fly through the night to the hotel they were supposed to be at and find Anastasia sitting against the wall bleeding. She raises her gun at you when you barrel through the window. You take off your mask and rush to her. Nastya, you say. She is shot and she should be dead but widows are not ordinary humans. You ask if she is all right and she laughs. Clearly, I am not. She already has a shirt tied around her stomach and she is holding another tight to staunch the bleeding. 

Natalia has been here, you say. Yes. You ask where she has gone and where Yeva is. She tells you she doesn’t know. That Yeva and she were ambushed and overwhelmed. The room is trashed. Bullet holes in the walls and broken furniture. There are bodies littering the floor. They must have had two dozen men up here to overpower just the two of them. 

You ask if she will be all right if you go. She tells you yes she thinks so. Then you hold a hand out. She takes it. Her hand is clammy and cool to the touch. Are you sure, you ask. Because Katya might actually kill me if you die on my watch. Go, she tells you. Find Yeva. 

So you leave out the window and try not to think about it all being too late. If they had the chance to drive off they could be out of the city by now. You weren’t even supposed to be out hunting for them. You should’ve taken Stefanya and Marina and gone back to base. The others’ failure was theirs alone to bear. So you stand in the dark collecting raindrops, wondering why this has come as an afterthought. You realize in your haste you’d left your mask back in the hotel room. Water drips down your face as you stare up at the sky. Maybe the stars know.

Then, through the stench of the storm and the dirt and oil the rain has sloughed from the ground you smell blood. It is sharp and metallic and unmistakable. You trot down the near pitch black alley in search of the source. There are a number of irregular shapes down a perpendicular alleyway. You can barely see they are there. You stop, your boots splashing in a puddle. 

With measured steps you stalk forward, unsheathing the swords on your back. The shapes are bodies of men in ruined suits with ruined faces. One’s eyes have been gouged inward, pushed deep in toward his brain. Belly-up he stares unseeing into some void. And as if he hadn’t suffered enough he is also eviscerated. Guts and blood leak from him onto the dirty ground as if from an overfilled trash bin. No wonder you were able to smell it.

There is another with his throat slit and his head bashed in. Another with his jaw ripped wide open. He has been shot, but only in the leg. None of these men went out with a clean death. All of them suffered.

You find Natalia in the middle of the carnage, holding another body. Yeva is limp in her arms, eyes closed. You kneel beside both of them. She’s gone, Natalia whispers. You try to ignore the awful pang in your chest. Because she died in the service of her country. She died a soldier’s death. It is an honor. 

But alone in the rain in a struggle is no way to die. Dark blood is still seeping from the hole in her forehead to stain her blonde hair. She looks so young. 

There are footsteps at the entrance to the alleyway. Stefanya and Marina have Anastasia supported in between them. Stefanya is taller than them both which makes it an awkward position but they have made it. You’re not surprised they didn’t stay at the rendezvous either. 

The cops are here, Marina says. We need to go.

Natalia stands, Yeva in her arms. You pull your hood deeper over your face and lead them away. In a stolen car you drive out of the city. There’s a field and it’s on its way to being flooded but it will have to do. You have no tools so you dig with your hands and you try to ignore how familiar the action is. Even Nastya insists she helps. 

Dawn has already broken when the grave is finally dug. You lower Yeva’s body in and replace the dirt under the young sunlight. None of you care about the consequences the day will surely bring.

Very few will ever know that she lived. And only you will know about her death, about this gravesite. It’s only fair you take a moment. They tell you you are nameless, faceless, inconsequential and that it is selfish to believe otherwise.

But dammit Yeva was a person. They refused to give her a place in the world. So you suppose that’s what the four of you have done now. What a shame it could only be given after her last breath.

—

The next time you’re being briefed on a mission there are forty agents in the room. You go to the side of the room where your squad along with the rest of the platoon are standing. Rumlow tells you there must be a big fucking fish to fry.

Crowded on the other side of the conference table are members of STRIKE Team: Delta, including Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. You lock eyes with her for a moment but you turn away because Agent Matthew Hunter is right there next to her. Rumor has it they’ve been “going out.” Last week Ward asked you how it felt to have some tool like Hunter steal your girl. You told him she wasn’t your girl. That she’d be fucking a new guy in another week. You don’t know why you said that last part.

Then everyone is quiet because Fury is here and the Director never bothers with things as trivial as mission briefs.

Turns out there’s a huge freaking terrorist compound in Iraq and you’ve been authorized to take it out. Agent Barton is in charge of tagging the leader. Everyone else, don’t get killed.

So you fly out in three separate jets and you’re on the one holding a mix of both teams. Everyone’s keeping to their own side but Natalia comes over to stand by you.

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hi,” you say back. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been missing her. But now that you’ve heard her voice and she’s so close your shoulders are almost brushing it hits you like a bucket of ice water. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. It’s odd though, you know.” 

“What is?”

“Not speaking with you.” she says. “I mean we’re in the same building most of the time now. It’s just been too long.”

“I agree,” you say. And because you cannot bring yourself to admit you feel less alive when she’s not around, that now that she’s here you have to stop yourself from grinning like a moron, you say, “I don’t think we’ve been on a mission together yet. Not since coming here.”

She’s looking at you and now you’re thinking about the furrow in her brow and the shine in her eye when she’s thinking hard. The little things you’re sure only you know because you’re the only person she’s shown them to. “You’re right,” she says. “We haven’t.”

“Kremer was probably scared shitless about the potential the two of us have together.”

“Kremer?”

“My handler. He’s an absolute asshat. I feel like he had one look at me and has already sentenced me. Nothing I do can change his mind.”

“That’s too bad for him,” she says. “He’s missing out on a great agent.”

You finally allow a smile to crack through. “How’s Barton?”

“He’s good. I think the two of you would get along.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you both know how to be a huge pain in my ass.” She smirks and you shove her lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into Romanova.” 

She takes your hand and traces circles on the inside of your palm. “You’re the only one who calls me that anymore,” she murmurs.

Your face flushes because you hadn’t even realized what you’d said. “I can stop. I just, I forget sometimes. And besides.” You lean in and switch to Russian because someone is always listening in. “Natalia Romanova is the strongest person I know. I don’t think you should be ashamed of her.”

She turns her face toward yours and responds in kind. “You don’t have to stop. I like what it means when you say it.” You can feel her breath on your cheek and you wonder if she might kiss you. But she pulls away to smile at you again. “And you’re the only one who can pronounce it right anyway.”

You touchdown and by some force of habit you and Natalia pull away from the others and slink into the shadows. You pull your pistol out and shoot a figure with his gun out before Natalia can get to him.

She turns back to you. “Since when do you use a gun?”

You shrug. “Since I became American.”

“You don’t have your swords?”

“No. Those are still confiscated. But,” you take a retractable blade from your belt and unsheath it. “I’ve got this.”

“Can you use it?”

“Well enough,” you say. You could use a sharp stick if you needed to. “Actually, it’s quite different from using my katanas. First of all there’s only one of whatever this is. It’s pretty terrible. Americans have no idea about blades. Whoever made this shaped it like a toothpick.” You thrust it forward into the empty air. “You can’t slash with it, which is what you want to do,” you say, drawing an arc this time.

“Easy, tiger. I can’t believe I almost forgot how much of a nerd you are.” You’re about to retort but she stops before a corner and gives you a look. Down the hall there’s an open door and a light on. You edge up to it and count four guys smoking and playing cards. As one you jump out, Natalia covering you as you barrel into the thick of it. There are two guys with bullet holes in them and one writhing on the ground from one of her taser discs.

You’ve plunged your sword through the last one and are still trying to wrench it free when she kicks the one getting shocked in the head. Finally you get it free, his ribs cracking from how hard you had to pull it out. 

“That’s disgusting,” she says.

“Oh please,” you respond, wiping the blade off on your sleeve. There’s blood on your hands and face and more spreading over the concrete floor. “You’re the one who likes making messes on purpose. I told you this sword is atrocious.”

She shrugs. “I only do that if they really deserve it.”

“So that’s like everyone, right?” You turn away from her, shaking your head hard enough you know she must see. “It’s appalling really. I mean have some decorum Natalia. Twenty-three times is a lot to stab someone, you know.” 

Silence is the only answer you receive. But the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and in a flash she’s on your shoulders trying to bring you down.

You keep talking in between the short bursts of laughter rising from your chest. “At that point it’s disrespectful.” She covers your eyes with one hand and your mouth with the other. Then she twists with just enough force to signal she wants you down and you get to your knees to soften the blow before you completely collapse on your back. 

“The cops can’t even recognize the poor bastards.” She’s on top of you with a glint in her eye like she’s hungry. You put your hands up. “Please don’t, oh no I have an ounce of cocaine I still need to snort tonight.” She puts the handle end of a knife against your cheek and drags it down toward your chest. “I have so much to live for,” you say, suddenly putting on an American accent.

She cracks, a little smile emerging on her face. She stands before she thinks you’ve seen and leaves the room. “Get up. We’ve got a job to do.”

“I saw that,” you say, jogging after her. 

“Saw what?”

“You think I’m hilarious.”

“No, I think you’re dumb.”

“I can be both. It’s called having range.”

You wouldn’t say you enjoy what you do, but it’s all you know. At some point you had to become numb to it or you’d drown in the guilt. But you have missed working with Natalia. Your team is fine. But it’s different when she’s had your back in the field since you were ten years old. When you could pass out right now and know she’d keep you safe. When you know exactly what move she’s going to make next.

The end of the hall splits off and you go left while she goes right.

You pass a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and give them a nod before turning down another hall. You check another room and there’s a woman in there with a gun.

You raise yours, and you don’t know why but something makes you hesitate. Maybe it’s because you don’t think she’ll shoot. Maybe it’s because there’s been this bug in your ear nagging about innocence until proven guilty. 

But she doesn’t and there’s a shot and a bullet in your side. You don’t waste time before you fire a return shot that shatters her kneecap. She drops her gun and goes down screaming.

Rage explodes hot in your chest. At her, for shooting you. But mostly at yourself for slipping. “You bitch,” you seethe in Russian. The pain in your side is mixing with the anger in your chest and the storm is deafening. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me,” she sobs, laying on the ground. “I didn’t mean to. I’m not with them. I won’t fight anymore. Just don’t kill me. I’m sorry.” But you’ve seen this act before. You won’t underestimate her twice.

“Shut up,” you say in English. You put your foot on her broken knee and stand on it. She wails even harder. You’re looming over her as you unsheathe your sword. Her sobs are the only sound left in the room. You seethe in silence. Like you always have. 

You raise the blade above your head like an executioner with his axe and bring it down over her neck. Her head comes apart from her body. There’s a thud as she settles on her back. The sword snaps as it strikes the concrete from the weight of your full strength. You stumble forward. Sometimes you forget how strong the serum has made you.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Just the sound of your ragged breathing. You can’t tell if you can’t catch your breath because you’ve been shot or because of something else.

Then, “Holy shit.”

You whip around and aim your gun at the voice by the doorway. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Don’t shoot me, partner,” says Agent Hunter.

Блядь.

You put your weapon away but don’t say anything.

He looks at the blood on your face and the broken sword you’re holding onto like a lifeline and the body at your feet. The woman’s eyes are still open. Locked in a panicked gaze. Then he blanches and turns away. The sound of him throwing up almost makes you hurl too.

“Hunter,” you pant, finding your voice.

But he’s backing away with his hands out like you’ll get him next. “You’re sick.”

More footsteps come down the hall and a group of agents checks on him. It’s over for you as soon as the first new arrival sees the body and the blood on your hands. Oh my god, he says. The judgement rolls through the crowd that’s begun to amass. 

Agent Hunter is out of your sight now but you can hear him. “He fucking killed her. She was on the ground begging for her life and he fucking chopped her head off.”

Your face heats up and your heart is pounding something crazy in your chest because you still haven’t caught your breath. There’s too many people in the room. Too many eyes on you. You can hear every gasp, every hitch in their breathing, every whisper. It’s driving you nuts. Why can’t they just mind their own fucking business. 

They’re going to kill you for this. You’re injured and vulnerable. There’s a dozen of them now and they’ve all got guns. 

“What the fuck are you all looking at?” You yell. “Get out!” 

They stare at you for another moment before shuffling away. 

You think you see a glimpse of fire-red hair in the crowd. There one second, then gone. Like the flicker of a flame.

Rumlow is the first one to approach you. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t come too close. “Come on, man,” he says in the same rough voice he always uses. The familiarity is good. “It’s time to go.”

—

The girl with the blood red hair stops at a small grove of trees. She tells the boy it is time. She cannot go further.

The boy stops because the girl is the strongest person he knows. If she says she cannot go on she must mean her feet have fallen off. But he is also confused because there are supposed to be weeks and weeks left. This is not right. 

The girl curses and curls into a ball at the base of a skinny, bare tree. Because she knows this too. Stupidly, she thinks if she makes the area around her stomach just a little warmer everything will be okay. She is desperate.

But their luck has run out. The girl was good at keeping secrets and when the secret could not be kept any longer a man named Ivan put her on a long-term espionage mission. The boy has always disliked this man whom the girl looks to like a father but he owes him for this. 

But things went sour as things happen to go and when the girl sent the message from the cabin the boy should not have come. But this was a thing worth running for. 

Miracles do not exist.

The boy sinks into the snowy ground next to the girl. She turns her face toward his and they press their foreheads together Like a kiss, but with the tenderness that can only be born from the innocent. I love you, the girl tells him. 

The boy tries to be brave even though he is scared. I love you too, he says. No matter what happens.

—

They make you go to medical when you get back because everyone was watching you on the plane and it was obvious you had a bullet in your side.

You sit in a private room that’s got a door instead of just curtains between beds. But it’s not really private because there’s a doctor and two armed guards at the door. All three of them stare at you. They haven’t gone so far as to handcuff you but you know you’ve taken a huge step back. 

The doctor introduces herself as Helen Cho and asks, “Are you able to remove your shirt?”

You don’t want to take your shirt off. It leaves you too vulnerable. And you don’t want them to see your back.

“Agent, there’s a bullet in your torso. Remarkably it hasn’t hit anything vital. And by some miracle you’re sitting up like nothing’s wrong. But I still need to take it out. It’s not supposed to be in there.” She is direct but still somehow soft-spoken. You don’t like being in this white room with these strange people but you suppose she could be worse.

You fidget with your hands. You’ve washed them but there’s still red on your palms, dried flakes under your fingernails. Finally, you say, “I can get it out myself. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

“I would be more comfortable if you would let me do it. Have you ever extracted a bullet before?” You shake your head. “It’s tricky, it requires precision, and it hurts the person it’s in. It’s hard to keep your hand steady when you’re in pain.”

You glance up at the agents keeping guard. “Sure I know.” 

Doctor Cho notices and waves at them. “Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Ma’am, we have orders to keep him under supervision.”

“He’s injured. You can stay right outside the exam room. Nobody is going to disappear into thin air.”

“But–”

“I’m the doctor. And this is my patient. You can wait outside,” she says sternly.

And this time they listen. “We’ll be right outside.”

She turns back to you. “Better?”

You nod slowly, finally drawing in a larger breath. Your side ignites in fire and you gasp, which only makes it hurt worse. Your hand flies to the wound, hovering over it. 

“Getting shot isn’t fun, is it?” She asks, not waiting for an answer. “Now there’s two ways we can do this. You can lay here and let me help you or I can have you sedated.”

“No,” you wave a hand at her. “No, don't do that.”

“Okay I won’t,” she assures. “But I’ve been at this long enough to know some people need a little extra help. It’s all right.” She pauses. “I still need to see the wound site. I’ll walk you through it every step of the way,” she offers.

“You will?” 

“Of course.”

You hesitate. Maybe it’s to stall a little longer. Maybe because you actually care. “You’re not worried about being in here alone with me?”

“Why would I be? You’re not going to attack me, are you?”

“No,” you say. “But you have to be wondering why I’ve got a couple of angry looking sitters.”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “‘I’m curious. But I don’t make a habit of judging people I don’t know. And besides. I’m a doctor. I’d treat you no matter what.”

“So there’s no limit?”

“No, I’ve got a limit.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“It’s for people who think they can talk their way out of treatment,” she says, looking you in the eye. “Come on.”

Slowly, you maneuver your right arm out of the t-shirt. The movement stretches your side and it hurts but you grit your teeth and push through the pain. You leave your shirt on around your neck and left side. The wound is still oozing blood just above your right hip. You figure she has enough room to work.

Doctor Cho sighs. She takes a once-over glance at your body. Her attention locks on the bullet wound then flickers to your back then refocuses again. 

“You’re probably going to want to lay down.”

You oblige and she comes over with gloves on her hands but no mask on her face. You’re grateful for this. The doctors in the Red Room always wore masks and headgear that made them look less human. They also didn’t talk. Not to you anyway. And their notes always had the word “Subject 094” instead of your name.

You swallow as she sits on a stool by your side with a pair of forceps and a pen light. You don’t know when you'd gotten so sweaty. 

“I’m going to locate the bullet and extract it. Sound good?”

You nod and she waits. “Yes,” you say. 

She clicks on the flashlight and puts a cool hand on your stomach. “Last chance. You sure you don’t want to go under for this?”

“I’m sure.”

She presses down lightly with two fingers around the entry site. It hurts but it doesn’t really hurt until the fourth spot she touches. You suck in air through your teeth and clench your fists.

“I started working in the medical field because I wanted to cure cancer,” she says. “My passion was research, but my parents wanted me to get my M.D. They said there’s no success in research. So I did both. I have an M.D. for them and a Ph.D. in biomedical research for myself.” 

You focus on her words, imagining a younger Doctor Cho in your mind. She can’t be much older than you. “You must be some kind of genius,” you grit around a clenched jaw.

She blushes, and even though there’s a pair of forceps lodged way too deep inside your torso the pain eases a little. “Nothing like that. I just worked hard. And you know the crazy part? I ended up loving the patient work almost as much as I loved running tests in a lab. So my parents had the right idea after all, just for the wrong reasons.”

You’re looking at her face now instead of her hands and trying to memorize the slight purse in her lips and the brightness in her eyes. This is her arena, her fight.

“Сука!” You curse and jolt a little.

“Steady,” she says. “I’ve got it. Just have to pull it out.”

You try to draw in deep, steady breaths through your nose and out your mouth. “Great.” You can’t watch anymore so you squeeze your eyes shut and tell yourself pain is only a mental construct even though it really doesn’t feel that way right now.

There’s a clink and a rattle and Doctor Cho says, “The hard part is done. I’m going to clean, stitch, and bandage you now.”

“So you’ve given up on curing cancer to take bullets out of idiots instead?”

“No. Actually, I work in research almost full time now. They’ve got a pretty nice lab here. You should stop by, if you’re not too busy catching more bullets.” She doesn’t look you in the eye as she says this. 

“This is my first time getting shot.”

“There shouldn’t be a first time,” she counters.

“You said you do research almost full time now. Should I feel special, then?” You smile.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re a disturbance to my day off, actually.” She takes a bottle of water and flushes it through your wound. 

You hiss. “Please remind me never to get shot again.”

“If you come through here injured again I’ll kick you out,” she says, smiling. “I thought you all had armor for this type of thing. What’s it called, again? Oh, yeah. A bulletproof vest.” She wipes the rest of the blood from your skin.

“I don't wear those. Too much of a restriction on movement. Agility is the most important thing out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Sounds like I’d want this thing that keeps me from ending up on the wrong side of this bed.”

You shrug. Because she’s running thread through your skin and it hurts more than you try to let on. Maybe she has a point.

Doctor Cho retrieves a roll of bandages from a cabinet in the corner. “This part will be easier if you stand up.”

You stand and stumble. You have to catch yourself on her shoulder. “Sorry,” you say. “Might have lost a little bit of blood recently.”

“You don’t say.”

You fix her nametag, the picture smiling shyly back at you.

She wraps the bandage taught around your stomach. “No strenuous activity until I clear you, understand? Nothing that raises your heart rate too much. And I want to see you back in three days. Think you can manage?”

You shrug back into your shirt. “Does that mean I can’t go to my underground fighting club tonight?”

She makes an overexaggerated frown. “I’m afraid so.”

“Thank you, Doctor Cho,” you say earnestly.

“Don’t mention it.” And as you put your hand on the door knob, she adds, “Call me Helen.”

You smile over your shoulder. “See you in a few days Helen.” 

Your personal guards march you down to Kremer’s office. You tell them you’re sure you can get there on your own but they’re not in all that talkative of a mood.

Kremer is standing over his desk, arms braced against the wood like he’s trying to ground himself. He has his glasses on but removes them when you enter. He makes a dismissive motion with his hand and the guards disappear, shutting the door behind them.

“Sit down,” he says. When you don’t move he says it again, louder. “Sit down! That’s an order.”

You sit but he doesn’t. He stands, hovering over you like some angry buzzard.

“What the fuck was that? I’ve got a dozen eyewitness reports saying you beheaded some defenseless woman. You want to tell me something different happened?”

“Sir,” you start, cautiously. Because even though a plan is already in your mind to bolt you would rather not have to sleep with one eye open tonight. “I don’t know how you have a dozen eyewitness reports. Agent Hunter was the only one present for the moment of death.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I don’t fucking care if it was one person or fifty people or just God himself as witness. Did you do it?” “She shot me first. She wasn’t exactly defenseless.”

Kremer mutters to himself under his breath. “But you didn’t need to chop her goddamn head off! I’ve seen the pictures. Looks like an excessive use of force to me. Was she threatening you when you did it?”

“She could’ve had another weapon under her shirt or in her waistband. I made a call.”

“Hunter said she was sobbing, begging you not to kill her.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! She could have been acting. I’ve seen it done a hundred times.”

“You Reds and your excuses,” he shakes his head. “It’s my ass when you pull some stunt like this, do you understand? I don’t know how you did it back in Russia but here we don’t go around beheading people like barbarians. And if you don’t want to end up in some hellhole I suggest you get yourself up to our bar, quickly.”

“You think I did that just because? The bitch shot me first! I just spent twenty minutes having a bullet dug out of my stomach because of her.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” he points a finger at you. “I think you’re a fucking animal who was just waiting for some excuse to make another person suffer. I know your type. You get off on this kind of violence. If it was up to me you’d be rotting out in the middle of the ocean right now.”

“What the fuck?” You sputter. “I don’t–”

“We’re done here. You’re on a month’s suspension.” He sighs, putting his glasses on and sitting down. “But if you step one toe out of line you’re out of here.”

You stand up far too quickly. The ache in your side flares like you’ve ripped it open again. 

“And I think you should know,” he adds. “Fury has given me complete authority over this matter. Whether you stay or go is my call.”

You salute him before you go, pretending your eyes could burn holes through his skull.

The agents turned guards aren’t waiting for you when you leave Kremer’s office so you head back to your room. Your side hurts even worse now. The adrenaline has worn off. Every step you take makes you want to sink to the floor. 

By the time you make it across campus to the barracks you’re sweating a little and breathing hard. You’ll have to tell Helen you broke her rule. 

Natalia is in your room, sitting on the edge of the bed in her mission suit. Her hair is still braided back, little flyaways sticking to the back of her neck. 

“How did you get in here?” You ask.

“You’re all right,” she says in relief. She crosses the room, one hand on the side of your neck, the other on your cheek. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, putting a hand on her arm. “Can I sit? I’m not exactly totally good.” You don’t wait for her to answer before almost collapsing into the chair at the desk in the corner.

“What happened?” You look up at her, thinking about how you saw her in the crowd. How she didn’t come up to you. Didn’t defend you.

“I was shot,” you say. You lift the edge of your shirt up, just enough to reveal the bandage.

She sits on the bed again. “And?” She prompts, head tilted slightly. 

“And I got it patched. But it still hurts,” you say. Because you’re not going to give her what she wants to know yet. She has to play her hand first.

“I heard what happened. On the jet. People were talking.”

“People were talking,” you say, looking away and nodding your head. 

“They were,” she answers. “And I thought maybe you weren’t coming back. You know how people like to talk. Things get embellished. But you’re okay. They let you off. Right?”

“I don’t know,” you say flatly. You look right at her so she can’t hide. “Were they embellishing? You can cut the shit Natalia. I know you were there.”

She is quiet, but she doesn’t look away. “I saw the aftermath. That doesn’t mean I know what happened. Only you can know that.”

“Why don’t you ask your buddy Matt?” You spit his name like it is a curse. “He saw most of it. And I’m sure he wasn’t shy about telling everyone.”

She stands, says your name. She is already close, but takes two steps to completely close the distance anyhow. “I don’t care about what happened. I just care that you’re okay.”

You look up at her. She is frowning down at you like you are some wounded dog. You want to ask her why she did not ask this thing when you were standing alone, a dozen pairs of eyes on you. But you know. Oh you know. She did not want their judgement to pass to her, did not want to be seen with the outsider with blood on their hands.

And maybe, part of her was scared of him too.

So you don’t ask. Instead, you say, “And if I told you they were outside the door waiting to take me away?” You come back to a way she has already disappointed you.

She takes a breath. You search her face. She searches yours. “Then you would need to disappear.” You wait for the second part. About how she would let you go but in a month’s or year’s time it would be her sent to hunt you down. It would be her with the gun to your head. Because she was the only one smart enough to find you, ruthless enough to betray you. She was the only one you would ever lose to.

You lower your head. You need to stop pulling open this wound. Things are hard enough.

But then. She rakes a hand through your hair. “And I would need to disappear too. I’d kill everyone in here for you, you know that. If it came down to it, I would leave with you too.”

This is new. She has not yet chosen you over them. You feel an opening.

Your head snaps back up. “We can go.”

“But they’re not coming. They’re giving you a chance.”

“I don’t want a chance,” you say. 

“Don’t say that,” she shakes her head. “You can’t say that.”

“Why are you so adamant about staying here?” You are getting frustrated. “You left the Red Room because you were a pawn but now you want to serve some other cause. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Because I’m not going to spend my life on the run, in the shadows. Not when I can do something with it.” She sighs, her gaze turning melancholic. “I need. I need to make up for all the pain I’ve caused.”

“There’s nothing to make up for,” you argue. She was already perfect. “The world needs a little pain. Humanity will never go in the right direction without it.”

She shakes her head. “We can’t control everything.” She puts her hand on your cheek. You hate yourself for leaning into it. You hate her because she knows how to make you pliant. 

You think of all the other times she’s touched you like this, the times she’s made you feel chosen only to turn away the next moment with apathy in her eyes. Because she is a mask of indifference, a one-night flirt. But for you she’s made an exception. You’ve seen her come apart, seen her struggle to be human. But still. Some part of you whispers, “trap.” She is just using you to keep herself afloat. After all, she is first and foremost a survivor. If anyone was going to make it out alive it would be her.

“But we could,” you say.

“No,” is her only answer. She says it like she is watching you drift away and she cannot follow. 

Maybe you are. Or maybe she is the one leaving you.

—

You dread having to talk to Willem after the incident. You know what he is going to ask about before he opens his mouth.

“I heard you had an eventful last week.”

“Are you going to lecture me too?”

“Maybe,” he smiles. It’s a cheeky smile without teeth, but the corners of his eyes wrinkle all the same. “I heard you got yourself on some kind of double probation. I didn’t know that was possible.”

“You hear what I did?” You ask. Part of you hopes he hasn’t. You’d never admit it, but you don’t mind him. Whatever this was was weird. But it would be a shame for it to change now.

“No,” he says. “And I don’t care to. I want to know what you think. I’ve known Kremer for a long time. He’s a hard ass.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoff. “He needs to come in here.”

Willem laughs. It’s a nice, hearty sound. But he keeps whatever he had found funny to himself. He steadies himself with a hand on his knee. “You think he’s unfair.”

“I mean, yeah. He doesn’t give me the time of day. It’s like he’s out to get me.”

“Do you think he was wrong to suspend you?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

You hated Kremer but you also hadn’t lost control like that in a long time. But that wasn’t exactly your fault either. She was dead the moment she pointed a gun at you. What did it matter how you’d done her in? And she’d only shot you because you’d hesitated. That was Kremer’s fault for yelling at you so much about restraint. You pivot instead. “Have you ever killed anybody?”

Willem frowns at that. You think it’s not so much at the content of the question, but at your lack of answer for his. “Yes,” he replies.

You wave your hand in a vague gesture. “Then you know.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“The feeling,” you wave again. “I don’t know. That rush when you, you know.” 

“The bloodlust,” he supplies.

“Sure,” you say. “That seems a little extreme.” 

“That’s the name we had for it in the army. Everyone had a similar story. Some guy in their platoon you wouldn’t have thought would make it a week. He’s too skinny or he wets the bed or he cries at night. Whatever. But by some miracle he survives. And one day he’s toe-to-toe with some enemy combatant. Everyone thinks he’s a goner. But he gets his first kill. And it’s not from some machine gun a few hundred yards away or a mine he rigged up. No. This is personal, it’s bloody. From then on the guy’s an animal. Nobody makes fun of him anymore cause he might claw your eyes out. The bloodlust.”

You shake your head. “Not like that. Just in the moment. When it’s you or them. Everything else fades out. You get this urge. Like something has to break. And it can’t be you.”

“Sure,” he says. “In the moment. But you can’t go on living like that all the time. Or you end up like that batshit private.”

“That’s all it was,” you say. “I don’t get why it’s not acceptable for me to blow off a little steam.”

“Because it’s dangerous. If you can’t control yourself you shouldn’t be out there.”

“So you’re taking Kremer’s side, now?”

“It’s not about sides. But you have a job to do. And there’s standards you have to abide by. You think I could do this if I flew off the handle with every client?”

“You’ve yelled at me,” you point out.

“You’re the exception.”

You roll your eyes.

“Do you feel good about what you do?” He asks.

“I don’t feel bad about it,” you say, although it’s only a half-truth. You used to feel terrible when you had to hurt someone. You didn’t want to do that. But time went by and you got used to it. You had to. There’s only a twinge left now. You call it respect for the dead.

“Let me rephrase. Do you like what you do?”

“Define ‘like.’”

He ponders for a second. “If you were free to do anything you wanted, would you still be here?”

“That’s a stupid hypothetical. No one is free to just do as they please.”

“I think we are. Or at least we should be.”

“So walk up out of here right now,” you say, gesturing at the door. “Try your luck begging for money on the street. See how you like your freedom then.”

“I’ve walked away once before. That’s how I ended up here.” Of course he’s got a story for everything. “My first job after I left the military was private security. Ex-military means a lot more to civilians than it does to anyone who actually served. It was nice. I never once pulled out my gun. I had to babysit these assholes who thought way too much of themselves but it paid. About two-and-a-half times what I’m doing here. And all I needed was my high school degree.

I worked awful hours. Wasn’t at home much. But it didn’t matter because I was supporting them. Giving them the life my father couldn’t give me.

Then I got this gig. Full-time bodyguard for some idiot who was going to pay half a million a year. I took it and realized I wasn’t happy. My family wasn’t happy. So one night I don’t show up. They called and I said I couldn’t make it. My kid had a ball game.”

“You just left?” You ask.

“Yes. I realized life is short, and you only get one. I needed to reprioritize, so I did.” Willem pauses to give you that look he always does. As if you can’t hear him if he doesn’t stare you down “It can be done. So let me ask you again.You’ve been given a second chance. What the hell are you going to do with it?”

“Of course that’s what this is about,” you say, throwing yourself into the chair back. “You just want to make sure I’m on the right side. You and Kremer playing ‘good cop, bad cop.’”

“Cut the crap,” he retorts. “I couldn’t care less about that. You’ve been given a fresh start. You have a world of opportunity ahead of you and you’re throwing it away. Do you know how many people would kill to have a re-do like this?

“I didn’t ask for this,” you say, throwing your hands up.

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, his voice flat. “Someone like you, the prodigy you are doesn’t just get taken in by the enemy without a fight. And he certainly doesn’t stick around for no reason.” 

You are silent. You can’t admit that you came here for Natalia. And you definitely can’t admit you’ve stayed because this place hasn’t been so bad after all.

“Nothing to say?” He taunts. 

You don’t answer.

“Then we’re done here.” He stands and walks to the door.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. Because he can’t just quit. That’s not how this works. You jump up and follow him.

“You think you’re some martyr,” he says, opening the door. “You’re crucifying yourself for things you’ve been given a real chance to overcome. I’m not here to watch you jump into an early grave.”

“Fuck off,” you yell, slamming the door shut. “You want to talk about martyrdom? Why haven’t you made amends with your wife?”

“Because I did a terrible thing,” he says in that annoyingly calm voice of his.

“You fucked up!” You pace a few steps away. “But you don’t want to put in the work to fix yourself. So much for all the love you have for your family.”

“That’s my call to make.”

“That’s right. It’s your fucking call and you’re making the wrong one. Some people they fuck up and they own up to it! What are you doing? Coming in here and hiding behind someone else’s problems so you don’t have to look at what a mess your own life is!” You’re shouting and you can’t keep your hands still. 

He stands across from you, hands in his pockets. He says your name, tells you to look at him. “Why are you here?”

You stop and put your arms down. Because he is calm, and you are not. It’s like nothing you’ve said has stuck. 

“Look at you, tough guy. You’ve got a smart remark for everything but you won’t answer this simple question. Because you can’t face the truth.”

He opens the door again. And this time, you walk through it.

—

You wake tied to a chair. It is because your eyelids are heavy like lead that you jerk and try to escape without reason first. You breathe from your nose because when you tried to take a panicked inhale through your mouth there was something gagging you out. 

Look who’s awake, a deep voice says. Looks like you won the bet.

You settle because the rope wrapping over the entire length of both your forearms and your ankles gives you no other choice. You are stripped down to your underwear but still you sweat. You are in what looks like an office with the furniture removed. There is a man you do not recognize and a woman you do.

Evgenia looks nothing like the woman you have been working on and off with for six years. Nothing like the woman who scolded you but not for the same reason as anyone in the Red Room. She told you you had to stop hiding your injuries because you are a kid and not a dog and showed you the real world was not as intense of a picture as you believed. 

She showed you new foods and taught you the songs her grandma taught her even though she could not sing. And one night after a particularly gruelling mission she told you you had to draw lines between what was okay and what was not. That nobody could tell you what those were except yourself. You have to listen in here, she said, pointing to your heart. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

There is more to life than just the fight. You just need to look up.

Her face was also the one you saw as you felt a prick in your neck and a tiredness began to consume your body.

You look at her now, at her cold gaze and think what a glorious trick she has pulled on you. You challenge her to be the first to look away as you search for an ounce of guilt in her posture and find none. In the end it is you who breaks away first.

The man, who is dressed in a black shirt and black pants approaches you and takes the gag from your mouth. He tells you he has a few questions about Dreykov and the Red Room. He tells you you all are an outdated parasite on modern Russia and need to be excised. Let me demonstrate, he says, picking up a thin knife. He grabs your bicep and you try to jerk away but the rest of your arm is tied down and even though you are awake the world still feels out of focus.

Everything becomes clear real fast when he starts sawing at your arm. You don’t scream, managing to minimize your agony into a series of gasps and grunts. This is a yet undiscovered pain. He comes away with a little piece of your skin. He holds it in front of your face and flaps it like it is some sort of banner. Like this, he says. You know the air is not burning even if your arm is trying to tell you it is.

You look at Evgenia. She is standing back a few paces, arms crossed. 

Where is the Red Room? The man asks.

I’m not telling shit, you say, even though it feels a little like your brain is having trouble connecting to your mouth. You think I’m some traitor? You would all be lost without us. Dreykov is going to–

He slices at you again, this time on your shoulder and you can’t stifle the yell that emerges. You clench your fists and fight to get away but it's no use. 

You can’t help but look at Zhenya like she is a source of comfort. Like she might help you. She says your name. Just tell him and this can end. Please, you don’t have to do this to yourself.

Go to hell, you grit. The man grips you by the hair and takes a large patch of skin from your neck. You scream. You had never thought there could be this much pain without a single drop of blood.

He steps back. Where is the Red Room? You stare at him, breathing hard. The rope digs into your skin. You ache to put your hands around his throat. You are going to regret this, you say. You should know who you’re messing with. 

Oh, he says, cocky. He waves the knife at you. But no one will know it was us, you see. 

Kill me, go ahead.

I’m not going to kill you, no. You’re very valuable property. Very marketable. You are only the second man in history to get Russian version of super serum and not go batshit insane. Did you know this? Yes, there are powerful people who would pay a lot to have you in their arsenal. And they already have. You’ll be someone else’s little hound soon. And guessing at who our buyer is, you won’t even remember this conversation after they do what they do.

He holds the knife to your cheek. Too bad keeping this pretty face intact was not a part of the deal.

Wait, Evgenia speaks up. Let me.

He backs off and shrugs. All right.

She takes the scalpel and kneels before you. Hey, she says. Hey, hey, look at me. You must still be pretty out of it because you thought you were looking at her. Just tell us what we want to know and this can end. Don’t make me do this. 

You are looking into her eyes and you think you see a little bit of the woman you thought she was. I trusted you, you whisper.

I know, she frowns, mocking. I’m sorry. She starts to cut at the skin on your thigh. It feels more painful than any of the other times because she is the one doing it. You watch the strip of skin come loose and then think you must be dreaming because she turns away and rushes at the man. 

She stabs him in the stomach with the scalpel and throws a punch at his head. He is caught off guard and stumbles back. Without hesitation he rips out the blade and swipes at Zhenya. She takes a couple of quick steps back. 

You strain anew at the rope holding you down but it is thick and unforgiving and wrapped around your arms and legs like a python. 

He presses forward with the blade out, forcing her to work around him. She takes a step too close and he slices her across the stomach. Blood begins to bloom and stain her shirt a shade darker. But she is quick, she cuts at his wrist and forces him to drop the knife. Then, without missing a beat, she tackles him to the ground.

But he is bigger than her, stronger. He shoves her into the wall and dives for the scalpel. It lies just outside of his reach. Evgenia seizes the opportunity. She kicks it farther from his grasp and scoops it up. 

She turns around just as he tries to get her from behind. The scalpel cuts deep through his throat. Blood sprays from his neck onto her face as if from a fountain. His hands raise and try to staunch the bleeding but it is already too late. He falls first to his knees and then flat on the floor. He gurgles as he tries to draw his final breaths and then it is quiet. 

Zhenya stumbles backward, holding the wound on her stomach. You are still trying in vain to break free from your bonds. She curses and comes to you with the knife. You flinch a little when she points it at you. She apologizes. I didn’t know what to do, she says. This was the only way. I didn’t want to hurt you.

It’s okay, you tell her as she saws through the coils and coils of rope. You forgive her easily, instantly. You don’t think you could have been mad even if she truly had betrayed you. Because you will always be that twelve year old kid with fists aching from the weight of your anger. And she will always be the one to catch your wrists and demand you let go. 

She gets your clothes for you and you try to ignore how the fabric sets your raw skin aflame. Then, you stare down at the body of the other SVR agent. Zhenya has made herself a traitor because of you. She has ruined her life. You are not worth that sort of action. You shouldn’t have done that, you say. You should’ve let him have me.

No, she says. You are where I draw my line.

Her words make your heart pound and your face heat up. You will not cry because you haven’t for years and it would be ridiculous to now. You have recently turned eighteen after all. You are a proper adult now with proper responsibilities. That’s why they came after you.

You’re going to have to disappear, you say. 

I know.

I can’t know where you go.

I’ll find you, she says. When it’s safe. I promise.

You want to say it will never be safe. But you cannot entertain the notion you will never see her again. When it’s time you walk out first. So when they ask you where she went you can look them in the eye and say you don’t know.

—

Two months later and you have been carving room out for yourself. There is no back so you look forward. You tell yourself you can leave anytime you want. 

The hole in your side has healed, thanks to Doctor Cho. You went and saw her three days later like she’d asked. You checked the medical wing first, asking after her. Most of the staff avoided looking at you, but one nurse told you she didn’t work around here anymore and that you should check the laboratory building.

You thanked her and apologized for the disturbance. Perhaps your reputation was getting a little too out of hand after all.

The scientists in the research building weren’t much better either. They all stared at you when you entered, but that might just have been because they’re not used to talking to a huge circle of people.

“I’m looking for Doctor Helen Cho,” you said.

You were directed down a hall and into a different room. She was there, black hair tied up in a bun, talking to another person in a white coat.

“Doctor Cho,” you said, feeling somewhat off-put in this place. You couldn’t even name half of the equipment in here. 

She turned around, a smile lighting up her face when she saw you. That was nice. It didn’t happen with a lot of other people. She greeted you. “Let me wash my hands,” she said. “We can talk in my office.”

She discarded her gloves and safety glasses and the two of you walked down the hall into a small office.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, sitting on the edge of her desk.

“Okay,” you replied. “All things considered.”

“Can I take a look?” 

You shrugged. “What am I here for?”

She unwrapped the bandage and stared down at your side. You could see the gears turning in her head. “Well this isn’t right,” she said.

You couldn’t help but smile, just the edge of your mouth turning up. “Am I going to die, doc? Don’t tell me it’s too late.”

She shook her head, still unable to look away from the wound. “No,” she replied, so enraptured she’d missed your joking tone. “This is. This is incredible. It looks like a graze wound. Are you sure you got shot?”

“I didn’t let you take a bullet out of me for kicks.”

Now she looked up at you, eyes wide. You were smiling because her awe was infectious. You’d never impressed someone like this before. You were never good enough. They always wanted you to be faster, stronger, more durable. But the way she was looking at you said this was more than enough.

“How?” She breathed.

“I heal fast,” you said. 

She laughed and you found yourself thinking of more ways to draw the sound out of her. “No shit,” she said. “But I mean, this should be impossible. It won’t even scar.”

“You’re the genius scientist,” you said. “I don’t know how it works either, to tell you the truth.”

“I’ve never heard of anybody having genetics like this. But I suppose it’s possible. People have different heights and intellectual traits. Your cells must be able to process energy at triple the rate of anyone else.”

You tilted your head. “Eh, not exactly.” Then you paused because you’ve never talked to anyone about this before. And it was sensitive information. You eyed the woman in front of you. If you told her about the serum they’d stuck in your veins maybe she’d tell someone else, and then you’d be a rat in a cage. You couldn’t. So you smiled and said, “I should get back.”

For a second you thought she might press for more. She looked like she had a million more questions. “Do you think you have time for me to show you the lab?” Was all she said. 

You sighed in relief. You decided you liked her. So you let her take you into the lab and explain all the things you’d never understand. She was excited because they were on the edge of a breakthrough, she could feel it. She told you she was working on growing tissue so they wouldn’t have to rely so much on transplants. She hoped their work would save a lot of lives some day. She would be happy if she lived to the day it would save just one.

She was almost winded when she’d finished speaking. “Sorry,” she shook her head bashfully. “I’m not usually so talkative.”

“It’s all right,” you said. And it was. Because you’d had more attention on you in the last week than you thought you could handle. “The world needs more people like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re good. You’re not doing this for yourself. You’re going to help a lot of people.”

She looked down at her shoes. “I hope so.” When she looked back up at you her cheeks were a little red. “We should talk again. Outside of work.”

“That sounds nice,” you agreed.

Now you have come back from a mission gone slightly awry. The intelligence had been perfect, the lab waiting for you like a glowing jewel hidden beneath depths of concrete maze. There was nowhere to run when you broke the doors down and aired the place out.

The lead scientist put his hands up as soon as the bodies of his colleagues hit the floor. You were supposed to bring him in for questioning. You are looking right at the man and his empty hands when there is shouting and a single gunshot.

The target is dead, his head all exploded like rotten fruit. Ward holsters his gun. He says he thought the man had been reaching for a weapon. And that’s what all four of you report when Agent Hill asks you about it later.

It’s a problem because you are supposed to be the most seasoned strike team there is. It’s a problem because that scientist also functioned as an administrator and he could have led you to more cells.

It’s a problem because it’s not the first time something like this has happened.

It’s the third one since you’ve been here. There was the neo-Nazi who claimed he was part of a huge underground organization and the Russian politician who swore he would tell all in exchange for asylum. Both of them had become suddenly violent at the moment you tried to bring them in. Both are now dead.

The first time you had been confused. Then Rumlow looked you dead on and smiled, holding his index finger over his lips. Then you understood why they wanted you on their team.

Because they are imperfect, and so are you.

So you don’t tell your superiors the target had been subdued at the time of death. And they believe you because strikers are always like this, a little jumpy and a little imprecise. Consequences of pulling from ex-military and ex-police force pools.

But now you’re getting back from a long flight and an even longer debrief and Natalia is in your room with her arms crossed and an indecipherable look on her face. You’ve been on good terms. But you haven’t done that thing which is not a thing because it’s nothing where you lay with each other in the dark and communicate without speaking. 

So you find it odd that she’s in your room. 

“Hi,” you say, like a question.

“What are you up to?” She’s not asking what your plans are for the day. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted.

You shake your head. “What are you talking about?”

“Maria is pissed. About the mission. And so is Fury.”

“So? It’s a shame the mission went bad but the target was hostile. He might’ve shot one of us. We’ll get the next guy.”

“Except this is the third time something like this has happened in as many months,” she says, slowly. “And you don’t make mistakes.”

You aren’t alarmed. She’s smart, smarter than you maybe. So you keep your face and body still like you’ve been taught and say, “I don’t. But they do. You must know I was never the one to pull the trigger.”

She huffs because you’re right. On paper nothing is afoot. But you know she has a feeling. You’re stubborn but so is she. “If something is going on you can tell me.”

“Nothing is going on,” you lie. Something definitely is. But you don’t care.

“I’m trying to help you,” she says. “Those agents you work with, you can’t trust them.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because Clint,” she pauses to rub at her temple, “he doesn’t like them.”

“And that’s the end of the conversation?” You scoff. “Your new buddy says one bad thing and my team is suddenly suspicious.” 

“It’s not just him. Your ‘team,’ is made up of a bunch of assholes. Everyone knows it.”

“I didn’t know you held such high moral standards. Tell me, what is your squad up to, huh? You go out and you spy on people so you can throw them a big party?” You don’t want to be angry, not with her, but she is different now. She is jumping on you when she always used to give you the benefit of the doubt, when she always used to be on your side.

She has become a stranger and now she thinks she can barge back in and make you behave as she sees fit. Perhaps you never knew her in the first place.

“I never said that,” she says.

“No, but you think you’re better than everyone else. You always have. And now you’re acting all righteous because the director has made you his pet project.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What does that mean?”

She scoffs. “Really? Dreykov Junior?”

“I’m not his son.”

“No, you just wish you were.”

You turn away and take a deep breath. 

Her voice is closer and softer the next time she speaks. “I didn’t mean for this to get so out of hand.”

You shake your head as if the motion would fling all the anger away like it was some pesky bug. “Me neither.” “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble. That’s all. I wanted to help you.”

You turn back to face her. “I don’t need help.”

“But you do.” Her face is a stone wall, a chiseled mask of indifference. 

You blink at her. It is dark outside, and you are exhausted. Your quarters which have always felt a little like a jail cell shrink in on you. “What?”

She sighs, like you are a child who doesn’t understand. “They think you’re a spy,” she hisses, like she’s not supposed to be telling you this. “They think you are a spy and that you are trying to find a way to bring them down.”

“I’m not.” They have it all wrong, you want to say. You’ve been exiled, but you can’t tell them that. Because then they’d know you’re cornered, and there’s nothing more vulnerable than being caught with your back to the wall.

“Then why are you here?” She asks. And you feel like she’s pushed you off the top of the building. Because she is truly asking this question. She thinks you are working against them too. Working against her. “You came here to retrieve me, right? And I said I’m not going back to that hellhole. So you have a new mission.”

You must have some sort of surprise on your face because something clicks in her eyes, like she’s solved a mystery. But you can’t tell her that no, no one sent you here after her, because she’d ask you why you had jumped ship like an idiot and you’d have to tell her you were scared. You don’t have the words to describe how panic had seized you by the throat when news of her capture reached you. How even the daydream of her death made you want to die too.

Because you are not a savior. And she is not supposed to be worth saving anyway. Everyone is expendable. No one is special. And she was just a warm body all those years.

And because you cannot say all this, cannot accept that you ruined your life like some emotion-poisoned whore, you say, “You don’t understand.”

She is quicker with her response, because she has the power. She has always had the power between the two of you. “Then help me understand.”

You shake your head more furiously and back away. “Why do you even care, huh?”

“Because I want to understand you! You have to give me something. You have to show them you’re trying.”

“I am trying.” Could she not see that? How you were killing yourself everyday you woke up in the name of S.H.I.E.L.D.? You shake out the wrist you normally wear your watch on.

“But they don’t think so. You can do better.” She approaches you a little too quickly. You can’t tell if her outstretched hands are trying to support you or strangle you.

You seize her by the shoulders before she can touch you. “That’s what this is about? You’re worried I might be a stain on your reputation?” You are loud but you don’t care because you are furious.

“No. No, I never said that. I don’t care about my reputation. I want to help you, but I can’t because I don’t recognize you anymore!”

Her face is flushed red like it’s never been before and it scares you so you let her go. “You think I need help?” You throw your arms up because she is ridiculous and so are you. “You think I can’t handle this?” And she is shaking her head and getting redder and the corners of her mouth are turned down in the shape of a frown. She is saying no but you aren’t hearing her. “My whole life I’ve been handling everything just fine! And guess what. I have never needed you.” You’re pointing at her and every time you shake your fist it feels like pulling the trigger of a gun.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been through? I was there too. I get it but it is no excuse to keep protecting them!”

“It’s not that simple.” Because you had fought and you had suffered and you had had a role to fill. You still do. No, you weren’t just going to accept that you’d lost and roll over for the enemy. You can’t.

“It is!” She says. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is not perfect, but it is a fucking haven compared to back there. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because I’m not willing to turn my back on things so easily. I can’t just run from one thing to the next, changing who I am to fit in. I’m not like you.”

“Well then you are an idiot and a coward. And I see right through you.” You believe her. You feel so exposed under her gaze. “I’m not pretending to be someone else to fit in. I’m trying to be more than them, to be better. Fuck you.”

“Yeah? At least I’m not a spineless traitor. How could you leave? What has S.H.I.E.L.D. ever done for you?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes! The Red Room gave us everything.”

“The Red Room didn’t give us anything. It took our choices and our lives and it’s taking still. Look at yourself!” She thrusts her arms out at you and you flinch. Just a little, but you know she sees. Because you thought she didn’t care about all the ways in which you are ruined.

“I am better for all they put me through. It wasn’t easy, sure, but I’m not crying about it. They saved me!” You eye her, up and down, pretending you hate her. “And where would you be without them? Starving and pregnant by some guy you married who spends all his money on booze?”

“You’re fucking unbelieveable. I am not who I am because of them. I made myself.” She glares at you. You can’t look away. You hate this intimacy. She speaks slowly, making sure you hear every letter. “But they broke you.”

“I’m not broken,” you say, low, like the warning of thunder. You’ve been made in their image.

“You are! It’s not normal to beat children because they do not act like soldiers. It’s not normal to think of sex as a means to an end at twelve years old. But you still think it is! You think it’s all okay when it’s not! You are stuck with what they have told us and you’re too scared to break out.”

“I’m the scared one? You’re the one who ran away because she couldn’t handle it!”

“Maybe you’re not scared. But you should be. You should be terrified of the person you’ve become. Because the boy I knew, the boy who would take a slap over having to slap someone else wouldn’t be okay with this. But they told you you were the chosen one and suddenly it’s okay to let others suffer because you’re on top, right? You’ve forgotten what it was like to be treated like a slave.

Things changed for you. You got your uniform and they told you your name meant something. But things didn’t change for me, or for any of the other widows. They are still trapped like the dirt under someone’s shoe. Their names don’t matter because they are called ‘whore’ and ‘weapon.’ Just like mine didn’t. Until I forced people to see me.”

Her words scare you because there is a truth in them you’ve pretended like you could manage. It’s why Svetlana always dreamed of running off. Why Ekaterina tried to kill you after you’d accidently walked in on her and Anastasia. 

But you can’t let go. There is fear and pain when you submit. But there is so much more if you dare to go against them.

You scowl. “Well who had a hand in making me ashamed of that kid? I changed because I was chasing after you.” You point at her. “Perfect little Natasha.”

“You think I wasn’t scared too?” She retorts.

“Fine,” you say. “I’m evil then, is that what you want to hear? If I’m so bad, why don’t you just kill me for it?” Your heart is racing like you’ve been in a fist fight and your muscles keep flexing like you’re about to hit something.

“I don’t want you dead. I don’t. You придурок, I never said that.” Her eyes are shiny like she might cry and it spooks you because you can count on one hand how many times she’s looked like that. “I want to help you. But I can’t when you don’t talk to me.”

“And I don’t need help. I’m not some victim! You want some explanation for why I’m not good like you? You want to hear how they used to take me downstairs and whip me until I passed out and that’s why I’m so messed up? How I got into an argument with Dreykov once and he broke my jaw? You don’t want to know that shit!”

She is shaking her head and speaking calmer now, but you don’t hear her. You are somewhere else, lost in the storm of all those nights you can’t quite remember right. You are drowning in anger. Yours and Dreykov’s and the Widows’ and the Madames’ and the guards’. Building and building in your chest because you cannot let it go, it is not in your nature to not feel, to not care. 

She is coming at you again and she looks a little like Marina did that one night you slept together only because you had never been taught to say no.

“Get off!” You yell. She is blocking the door so you make a fist and pound it into the drywall next to her head.

She grabs your wrists and tells you to calm down. She says your name. “Look at me. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you!”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know. But this is what I’m talking about. These are the things you have to say. The things I don’t know about you.”

You sneer back at her because she is strong and you are not and it’s the only way to protect yourself. “Don’t act like you don’t have your secrets too. But you wouldn’t tell me because you have to be so perfect all the time.”

 “I couldn’t, you’re right. But I will now. I will. Trust me.”

“But you’re a widow,” you say, cold and sober. “How could I ever trust you?”

“You don’t mean that,” she says. Because what she hears you say is that she is not human. That all she’s ever been and ever could be is a weapon. “Look me in the eye and say you don’t trust me.”

So you do. You look her square in the eye and say, “I don’t trust you.” 

Then there is fire in her eyes as she stands there and stares. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. You really are just like him.”

You almost slap her. She is standing tall with her chin up like she is waiting for it and you think you should knock her down a peg. 

But you don’t. You just walk around her and leave. Because she isn’t worth it.

Continue

[multi-fandom-enjoyer]

Y/n watches, mesmerized, as Wanda approaches them in her costume. Suddenly she she starts to twirl her fingers in front of Y/n, a scarlet aura surrounding them. Once she stops, Y/n looks at her with confusion.

Y/n (laughing): What are you doing?

Wanda: I put a spell on you. And now you're mine...

Her nose scrunches as she smiles at Y/n, causing the latter to smile and let out a small laugh.

Y/n: You don't need a spell to do that, my love.

Meanwhile, Agatha watches the exchange from the couple's kitchen.

Agatha: Whipped!

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Marry Me

Summary: Once upon a time, you dreamed of marrying your girlfriend of two years but she broke up with you before you had the chance to ask her for her hand. Now with a wedding invitation in your hand, she's getting married but she's not marrying you.

Pairings: Past!Wanda Maximoff x reader, Yelena Belova x reader

Warnings: mention of cheating, angst with a happy ending, modern AU, no powers/Avengers, Starks aren't dead and decent parents lol

Word Count: 4.4k

‘Together with their families Wanda and Vision invite you to their wedding,’ the world around you seemed to become white noise. You didn’t hear your roommate talk about some guy that stood her up or the weatherman talking about the weather. Nothing else seemed to matter. “Are you listening to me?” No, you weren’t. That’s what you wanted to say but you stayed frozen, unable to speak. Sarah snatched the invitation out of your hand. You didn’t bother to stop her. “No fucking way this bitch invited you to her wedding,” Sarah had strong feelings about the ending of your relationship with Wanda. She had every right to be upset as she was the one to mend the broken pieces. “Are you going?”

“Fuck Sarah I don’t know,” you glanced at the time on the stove. “And I do not have time for this.” You were supposed to have a quick lunch at home and then return to the office for a meeting with important investors. Being blindsided by an invite to your ex-girlfriend’s wedding was something you didn’t have time for. “I have to go. Just leave it on the fridge,” you grabbed your backpack. Lunch was a protein bar and a banana.

“Hey, dumbass,” you stopped at the door, turning to face your roommate. “I love you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Love you too, dumbass.” You walked out of your apartment, not bothering with the elevator. It was a beautiful sunny day, a stark contrast to the emotions that were swirling inside of you. Once upon a time, you dreamed of marrying Wanda. You were together for 2 years and knew every detail of how she wanted the wedding to be. It would be out in the country, not too many people to save on money. Maybe on an apple orchard or magnolia trees surrounding the ceremony. You would have given her everything, no matter the cost, and you were looking at rings to buy. Then she broke up with you. It was rather sudden, out of the blue, and she never gave you a good enough explanation. She told you that she fell out of love with you. A month later, she and Vision started dating. Sarah figured she was cheating on you. You couldn’t stomach that possibility.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Tony said as the elevator’s door opened to his office. You rolled your eyes and sat down in the empty chair in front of his desk. You gave Pepper a small smile.

“I’m technically early,” you opened the protein bar. “I got distracted at home.” Tony sent a questioning look to his wife.

“Do you want-?”

“No,” you cut him off. “Let’s begin.” You got out your tablet and the meeting began without a second thought. You were the Chief Entrepreneur of Stark Industries. Your parents were close friends with the Starks and you and Tony grew up together. He was the brother you never had. So when Howard stepped down as Executive Chairman, Tony took over and promoted Pepper to CEO and you to Chief Entrepreneur. You were responsible for managing a portfolio of entrepreneurs. Your team was the future of Stark Industries, taking on risks and coming up with new products while Pepper ran the company. You didn’t envy her job and you loved working here. It was the best part of your day. However, it got uncomfortable and awkward when you had to deal with the CFO, who happened to be Vision and Tony’s brother.

They weren’t related by blood but you knew that made no difference, you were close with Natasha and Yelena. Howard and Maria adopted Vision when you and Tony were in high school. He was two years younger than you. You remembered the day when Vision and Wanda announced their relationship so clearly. Tony dragged you into his office and asked if you wanted him to fire Vision and kick his ass. You told him that it wasn’t necessary. You were professional and respectful with the man. It was rare that your paths crossed. You only had to be in the same room as him during company-wide meetings or meetings with investors. Of course, you had one today. The universe was testing you.

Once Tony concluded the meeting, you and Pepper left his office. It was rare that he came to these types of meetings as he trusted you and Pepper to make the right calls regarding the company. You both stopped to make a quick coffee. “Can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Are you helping Wanda with her wedding?”

“She’s asked me for some advice here and there,” she looked at you curiously. “Why?”

“Do you know why she invited me then?” In hindsight, you probably should have waited for the CEO to not be taking a sip of her coffee before dropping the news. She coughed, choking on the hot liquid. You bite your lip, trying to get your laughter under control, and rubbed her back to help her calm down. “Sorry.” You giggled. She waved you off and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“It’s fine,” she cleared her throat. “She invited you to her wedding.” You nodded as you continued on your way to the board room.

“I got the invitation today,” you said. “It was why I was late, kind of took me by surprise.” You took a sip of your coffee.

“Shit, I don’t blame you,” you giggled. You loved Pepper. She was a perfect fit for Tony. She was the only one that could reel in your brother’s energy. “Are you going to go?” You didn’t answer. “Tony is Vision’s best man and I know Wanda asked Natasha to be her maid of honor.” You weren’t surprised by that. Natasha was the reason Wanda was part of your workgroup and how you met her. The redhead held onto a lot of guilt because of what happened. You didn’t blame her.

“Not sure, Pep. We will see,” you saw Yelena and Natasha waiting for you and you quickened your pace. Natasha was the Chief of Staff and the first person you hired when you got promoted. She helped you manage executive goals and you trusted her to oversee projects you didn’t have time for. You worried when your relationship ended with Wanda your friendship would the redhead was going to be jeopardized. It wasn’t and a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. “Are you ready?” You asked Yelena when you got closer. The blonde was the reason you were having the meeting. She was a new hire but there was no limit to the ideas she had. Her latest project would partner Stark Industries with Wakandans International to develop a better prosthetic.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” her Russian accent took you by surprise when you first met her as Natasha introduced her as her sister. You laughed, shaking your head.

“Don’t be nervous,” she gave you a pointed look. “Come here,” you dragged her away from her sister and Pepper to a more private area. “You are going to kill it today. Do you know why?” She shook her head. “Because you have a passionate for this project on a level I’ve never seen before,” she began to smile. “And you have the support of everyone at this company, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled.

“Just go in there and speak with the same passion you had when you explained it to me and you’ll do great.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you having some much faith in me,” you put your hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

“No need to thank me,” you brought her back over to her sister with her hand still on her shoulder. You didn’t miss the questioning look the redhead sent you and you removed your hand quickly. “Shall we?” You opened the door for your group and everyone found their seats to wait for the others.

The meeting went…okay. You introduced everyone to Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye. You’ve spoken to the trip on the phone but it was nice to meet them in person. Yelena began to present her research and the importance of the partnership but Vision questioned every little thing to an annoying degree. You understood it was his job to understand how this would affect the company financially however it was starting to piss you off. Even Yelena knew he was getting on your nerves as you tirelessly defended everyone in your group. The glares he was sending your way weren’t helping. Was there trouble in paradise?

In the end, the deal was signed and work with the Wakandans could being. Plus, you didn’t murder your ex’s fiance so it was a win-win in your book.

*

You loved when a new deal was signed. It meant an influx of projects for your team to work on and more people to help. But the first day was meant with paperwork, scheduling, and delegating responsibilities. And meetings. So many meetings. You were tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a beer. You were putting on your headphones as you exited the elevator and headed for the door but a voice calling out your name caused you to stop. It was a voice you knew so well. “Wanda,” you said as your ex-girlfriend approached you. She looked good, wearing a long dress that touched the ground. Her hands were resting in front of her and she was playing with the rings that were on her fingers. A tale sign of her anxiety. “What are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Waiting for Vision,” Right. Of course, she was. That was a stupid question. “He said you and Yelena closed on a big deal.”

“We did,” you said. “Yelena did a majority of the work. I just guided her in the right direction.” You saw a strange emotion flash across her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came so you couldn’t place it.

“Well congratulations,” you smiled as your thanks. An awkward beat of silence passed between you two. God, you didn’t know how to get out of this conversation. “Did you get your invitation?”

“Uh yes, I did,” Great. This is exactly where you didn’t want this conversation to go. “It was beautifully designed.” It wasn’t a total lie, you just had no memory of what it looked as you stared at the tagline - ‘Wanda and Vision invite you.’ Wanda and Vision. She wanted to get married but she wasn’t marrying you.

“Do you think-” your name being called out cut her off and you turned towards the sound. It was Yelena. You didn’t realize the blonde was still at the office and you never been more excited to see her.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I didn’t think you were going to wait for me.” She said as she got closer. “Oh hi, Wanda.” The blonde plastered a fake smile on her face.

“Hi Yelena,” the smile on Wanda’s face was strained. Yelena looked at you.

“Ready to go get drinks?” Drinks? Her green eyes said a lot more than her simple statement. She was giving you an out. You made a mental note to increase her yearly bonus.

“I am,” you smiled at your ex. “It was good seeing you, Wanda. I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” she said. “Congratulations, again. You both deserve to celebrate.” Yelena linked her arm with yours.

“Bye Wands,” the blonde dragged you to the door. When you both stepped outside and you were out of sight, Yelena dropped her arm. “Boy, you could feel the tension in the lobby.” You let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you for the save,” you said. “I owe you one.” She shrugged.

“Don’t mention it. I do it a lot for Kate and America when we go out. It’s second nature,” she started to smile. Oh, that smile was trouble. “Buuuut, if you want to make it up to me I know of a bar that is close by. We do have something to celebrate.”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand on your chin pretending to think. “I don’t think we have anything to celebrate,” you teased. “And I am pretty tired.” You faked a yawn.

“Suka (bitch),” you pushed on your shoulder. You gasped.

“That is assault,” you said. “I’m calling HR.” Yelena rolled her eyes.

“Are we going or not?”

“Lead the way, printsessa (princess),” you bowed. She laughed, throwing her head back at your pathetic attempt at Russian. You liked the sound of it.

*

“I still can’t believe you are going to this stupid wedding,” Sarah said through Face time. You sighed as you put your tie underneath the collar of your shirt. “And you didn’t even bring me.”

“I didn’t have a plus one,” that was 100% on purpose. The last thing Wanda would have wanted was for your best friend that wasn’t her number 1 fan to come to her wedding. “What else was I supposed to do? Tony closed the office because everyone was invited and you are visiting family.” You weren’t going to sit at home and be depressed. At least some of your friends were going to be there, but most importantly Yelena. “You put your jacket on. “How do I look?” You were in an all-gray suit with a white shirt. The only pop of color came from your tie.

“Hot,” Sarah said. “Damn if I were into chicks I’d grab you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks,” you sighed, looking down at the watch Howard gave you for your 18th birthday. “I better get going. I’ll text you after the ceremony.”

“Good luck!” You ended the call. You were going to need more than you, what you needed was at least 5 shots.

*

The ceremony was in an apple orchard. It appeared the happy couple rented out the inn and the orchard for a private wedding. You were handed confetti as you approached the rows of seats. There were small groups of people, all of them you knew, waiting for the ceremony to begin. You saw Pepper, who sent you a small wave. You waved back and sat in the back row at the end of the row. Thankfully, no one came up to you to talk because you weren’t in the talking mood. Instead, you played with the watch on your wrist. “Well,” you looked towards the voice and saw Howard Stark. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Mr. Stark,” you stood up, holding out your hand for him to shake. The man rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug.

“Please. I changed your diapers when you were a kid,” you felt your body heat up in embarrassment. “Drop the act, kid, it makes me feel old,” you smiled and sat down, leaving the end seat for him. “How are you? You don’t come by the house anymore.” That was true. You didn’t want to run into Wanda or Vision by chance.

“I’ve been busy,” you told him. “Your son is running me ragged.” It was the furthest thing from the truth but it pulled a laugh out of the older man.

“It was the best decision that boy has ever made promoting you and Pepper,” you smiled. “But how are you?” He asked again. “How is this?” He placed a gentle hand on your heart. You sighed, looking at the ceremony. This was going to be you, marrying Wanda but she picked someone else.

“Tired, Howard, if I’m being honest. I feel a little lost,” he nodded. You knew the man would never judge you. He’s seen you at your lowest point when you found out your parents were killed in a car accident. You were in a meeting with him and Tony when Maria came in to tell you. Losing them broke you but the Starks were there to catch you. It was why it hurt so much that it was Vision who started dating Wanda.

“I always told my boys to go after what they wanted, I never expected that advice to hurt someone I considered a daughter,” your breath hitched. You always so him as a father-like figured but hearing him call you his daughter brought tears to your eyes. You looked at the archway. You didn’t blame him. “But,” he grabbed onto your shoulder. “You will have your love story that will arrival that of your parents and I can’t wait to see it,” you fought the tears that threatened to fall. “You will always be a Stark, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Now I must be going but we will drink at the bar,” he stood up fixing his tie. “I believe I’m paying for it so drinks are on me.” You laughed, whipping away a tear.

“Thank you, Howard,” he gave you a salute and got ready for the ceremony. Folding your hands you sat back and watched as the seats began to fill. Soft music began to play and you were going to need a drink after this.

*

You took a glance at the seating chart. Table 3 with Natasha, Bucky, and Yelena. You were grateful she did that for you. Did you look like an alcoholic as you were the first one to the bar? Probably but you didn’t care. Besides you knew everyone at this wedding and it wasn’t like you were here to impress anyone. You ordered a strawberry mojito and waited for your drink as the rest of the guests filed in. “You know,” you turned to face Yelena as she walked over to you. She was wearing a light green full-length dress. It had a deep v-neck and a slit that went up to her thigh. Her blonde hair was braided. “I did not believe my sister when she said you’d RSVP but here you are.” She ordered herself a long island.

“Yelena,” you said. “You look gorgeous.” The compliment flowed so easily off your lips. You liked the blush that crept up on her cheeks.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she fixed the collar of your shirt. “How did you enjoy the ceremony?” She got her drink from the bartender.

“I’m glad to be drinking,” you said, holding out your arm. She took it and you walked her over to your table. The blonde laughed.

“Well, it’s an open bar. So let’s drink till our heart’s content.”

The reception was fun. The first dance was beautiful and speeches made by Tony and Pietro made you laugh. But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t paying attention. You found yourself watching Yelena. You weren’t sure when your feelings shifted for the blonde. Since the partnership with the Wakandans, you and she spent late nights at the office. Those nights were filled with laughter, stories, and dreams shared, and stressing over upcoming deadlines. For the first time since your breakup with Wanda, you felt free. Even Tony said something about your mode change.

Natasha sat down next to you with another drink. “I love that you’ve moved on from Wanda,” she handed you the drink. “But can you stop undressing my sister in front of me?” You jumped, startled by the accusation.

“Nat, shit, I’m sorry,” her laughter cut your nervous rambling off. “That’s not funny,” you whined, taking a sip of your drink. It was a lot stronger than your other ones. You wondered if she made it herself.

“I think it’s hilarious,” she leaned back in her chair. “So are you going to ask her out or just stare at her all night?” You groaned, rubbing your hands across your face.

“I don’t know,” your eyes immediately went back to the blonde. She was standing with Kate and Carol. The brunette must have said something funny because she laughed. God, she was beautiful. She must have felt eyes on her because she looked around until her green eyes found you. She waved and you waved back.

“Look, I’m going to intervene because I love you both. She likes you so make a move,” you looked at the redhead, trying to find any sense that she was messing with you. But you found none.

“Are you sure okay with this?” You questioned. “Because if you aren’t I will ignore my feelings for her,” Natasha put her hand on your shoulder.

“She will treat you better than Wanda,” she squeezed. “And if she does anything to hurt you. I won’t hesitate to kill her.” You covered your mouth as you laughed to now draw attention to you. “Go be happy.” You stood up, grabbing your drink.

“Thank you,” you began to walk over to the blonde. You were nervous. If she was going to allow you to date her, it would be different than dating Wanda. You worked with her, you were technically her superior. If it ended as badly, it could affect the work dynamic. But you couldn’t think like that. You had to take it one step at a time.

“Hi,” Wanda stepped in front of you. She changed out of her wedding dress and into a shorter one. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you all night.”

“Must be hard being the woman of the hour,” you took a sip of your drink and locked eyes with Yelena over Wanda’s shoulder. You gave her a reassuring smile. Wanda chuckled, sipping on her drink. It wasn’t her normal cocktail, which was strange unless being with Vision changed her that much.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” You didn’t but you nodded. She led you to a balcony, and your surprise there was no one out there. She leaned her back against the metal railing. Her hands were on her stomach, playing with the wedding ring. It hit you. The drink wasn’t alcoholic, her hands on her stomach. You took a sip of your drink.

“Your pregnant,” you said. She almost dropped her glass.

“How did-” she cut herself off with a laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” You moved to stand next to her. “It was impossible to keep things from you.” ‘I guess you found a way,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue.

“How long?”

“2 months,” That was why they got together so quickly. That was why the engagement came out of nowhere. She cheated on you. Your stomach dropped. “Y/n-” she went to touch your arm but you jerked away from her.

“Don’t,” you hissed. “Don’t try to justify your cheating on me.” Oh, Sarah was going to have a field day with this. You took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Are you happy?” It took a moment for her to reply.

“I am,” you nodded.

“Then go be happy with Vision and I’ll be happy with someone else. Have a nice life.” You turned to leave.

“With Yelena,” you didn’t like how she said her name. A hint of dislike and jealousy. When you faced her she was already looking at you. That same look was in her eyes that night in the lobby. She was jealous and possessive. Oh, it was comical.

“Don’t say her name like that,” you said, closing the gap between you and your ex. “Do you want to know the difference between me and you? You moved on while we were still together and didn’t have the guts to call it off because you slept with someone else. You have no right to be jealous over something you have no claim to. See around Wanda,” You waved over your shoulder as you walked back into the party. Drowning the rest of your drink, you saw that Yelena was still talking to Kate but America joined them. You through your cup away and walked over to the trio. You placed your hand on Yelena’s back as you approached them. The blonde looked at you, smiling. “Mind if I burrow her?” Kate and America smirked at each other.

“She’s all yours,” you thank them and moved your hand into hers, leading her out of the party. She squeezed your hand every few seconds, singling she was still with you. Finally, you stepped outside.

“I was going to give you 5 more minutes with her before I went and saved you,” you smiled, bringing her closer to you. She set her drink on the table. God, she was gorgeous. The lights danced in her green eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked the urge was becoming too strong to ignore.

“Please,” she whispered. You connected your lips with hers without a moment’s hesitation. Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer to her. You felt her smile against your lips. Soon you pulled away but you kept her close, feeling her breath against your lips and her heartbeat racing. “I’m sorry about Wanda.” The mention of your ex snapped you out of your haze.

“Did you know?” She looked away, glancing at the reception through the window. But you gently placed a finger underneath her chin to look at you.

“I did but I’m not even sure if Natasha and Tony know and I thought she told you,” she was working herself into a panic attack. You brushed your nose against hers and captured her lips in a quick kiss. She calmed down. “I caught them at the office. It was late like so fucking late,” you chuckled. “I wasn’t sure what the hell I stumbled on. I think you were with Tony on a business trip to Japan,” you remembered that trip. You didn’t want to go as you and Wanda were planning on going to visit her family. “I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or her being so close, you weren’t sure why she was apologizing. But that brain power was for the future, sober you to figure out.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” that much you knew. You didn’t blame her. “We’re okay.” She let out a sigh. “Do you want to get out of here?” A playful smirk formed on her lips.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask.”

*

Wanda stood in her kitchen, listening to her twins playing with their toys with the TV on with the latest episode of Bluey, as she flipped through the mail. A majority of it was junk mail; magazines she didn’t remember signing up for or ads trying to get her to buy something. Her fingers stopped on an envelope addressed to her and Vision written in beautiful writing. She ripped it open and stared at the invitation, ‘You are invited to the wedding of Yelena and Y/n, with a reception to follow.’

_

Part 2

[lesbian-deadpool]

Y/N pointing to Thor: Guy who has a boss health bar.

Y/N pointing to Tony: Guy that has a "divorce playlist".

Y/N pointing to Pietro: Guy who makes "your mom" jokes to their siblings.

Y/N pointing to Wade: Guy who is polyamorous only to grow their army.

Y/N pointing to Vison: Guy who calls it "Maroon 7.13" adjusted to inflation.

Y/N pointing to Sam: Guy who says "no homo" but proceeds to say the absolute most homo stuff.

Y/N pointing to Scott: Guy that is just kinda there, nobody knows why.

[miaisocool]

Johanna

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary - Wanda was your best friend in college that you had feelings for... were your feelings reciprocated or not?

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking, Angst, Fluff in a way?... YES THIS WILL HAVE A PART TWO!

Word count: 4k

Note: This is inspired by the song Johanna by suki waterhouse :) so i recommend listening to that song..

Part two

Oh, my Johanna, Johanna...

There you were at a party that wanda invited you to it was just a simple college party nothing else the atmosphere felt weird... and tense your vision was hazy including nothing but people passing out, strobe lights flashing over your face red solo cups plastered all over whoevers kitchen counter.. drinks that you didn't recognize the name of assuming it was something fancy. It made sense since it was apparently some rich kid who's dad owned a big company hosting the party you didn't even recognize anyone there except wanda, clint, tony and maybe natasha?...

You and natasha never got along well due to your past with her meaningless hookups that would end up with nobody in her bed the morning after. It was a on and off thing for a while with you catching feelings for her when she didn't want you and natasha catching feelings for you when you didn't want her it was a confusing thing between you both it was on and off like that for a while during your freshman year of college but, you guys talked it out and discussed how it was better for you both to just keep the relationship between you two EXTREMELY platonic she went on a rant of multiple pros and cons about it and how it would keep your friend group together you didn't care as much as she did but you went along with it. So did she.. she soon got used to it and distanced herself from you she was tired no matter whether or not the friendship included those hookups or if it was platonic she couldn't manage to be friends with you knowing she was gonna catch feelings again. Did she have a good reason to? maybe but those were hookups that you and her both strived off of everyone moved on from it except for her it was somewhat of a cold atmosphere between you and her for a while but its okay now, which you assumed since she gave you a quick smile at this party...

"come on.. go talk to her!" clint nudged your shoulder as he nodded to the direction wanda was in she looked so beautiful.. whenever you got a glance of her the signal of butterflies would turn in your stomach and it made you somewhat smile to yourself it was common for you to do that.. smiling at the thought of wanda or smiling whenever you had a interaction with her you couldn't help it who wouldn't fall for her? he was bothering you all night to go up to wanda and dance with her or at least have a conversation with her but he knew you were too afraid to "I think i just need to sit down.. i dont know clint.. this party is just.." it was true the party was overwhelming with the music pulsating off of the walls even when you stepped outside for some "fresh air" it was nothing but the music still blasting strobe lights were even set up outside to "keep the party going" which was doing nothing but making everyones face in the crowd unrecognizable and the strong scent of weed making the air thick, the scent of sweat and alcohol mingling with the aroma of wanda in your mind wasn't doing you justice she always smelt like cherries and wine in the best way possible the only scent that you could ever get drunk off of, the only scent that ever brought comfort to you when you didn't feel safe, the only-

"Y/n! im so glad you made it!!" Wanda had the biggest smile on her face as her slender fingers caressed your shoulder bringing you the sense of home and getting rid of the overstimulated feelings you had from the party. You were caught off guard with the sight of wanda suddenly coming up to you, you didn't expect it but yes you did how couldn't you? you guys were friends and she was known for being the sweetest to you, you sometimes wonder if thats what made you catch feelings for her. You hated it but no matter how much you did it wouldn't go away.

"wanda.. hey.." it took a while for you to regain your composure as you were drunk off of literally nothing except the thought of wanda in your system well to be honest she was the only thing in your mind that night "i couldn't find you" you lied, you saw her multiple times throughout the night even when clint brought your attention to her and tried to pressure you into talking to her. You avoided her, you felt guilty about it. how could you? wanda was basically your friend that you had feelings for just a friend that you had a really good connection with, the first person to ever show you what true love was like? or was it just fully platonic you always wondered what she thought about your friendship with her..

"i was looking for you!" she giggled her laugh was like the only noise that ever brought you happiness the noises from the party fading away and the soft rustle of the cup she was holding which had a bit of what you assumed was rum her eyes glistening from the backyard lights really making the emerald green remind you of the beautiful grass that you always dreamt about laying in with her and being far away from home you stood there taking in the moment of her presence until she spoke again "let me get a drink for you!" she said loudly but quietly in your ear it was hard to speak with speakers literally making the music blast in your eardrums the music was too loud for you to understand what she said but you made it out in your mind as you nodded she took your hand gently dragging you through the big crowd of people who were all over the place dancing, drinking, smoking or just passed out all over the atmosphere was still a mess but with the sight of wanda your mind was blurred from the chaos of the party the noise quickly faded as you took in wandas features from her dark brown reddish hair to the curves on her body your mind was in awe her presence was like a aura of light in darkness

A few seconds later as your back inside of the house wanda hands you a cup of a drink you couldn't even recognize but you knew it was alcohol you weren't used to liquor but you decided to put on a front for wanda as you chugged it and had sort of a face of grimace as you put the cup back down onto the counter "i know you don't drink" you turned your gaze back to wandas as you spoke

"i know.." it was true you didn't drink but you decided to act tough for her or maybe loosen up once in a while but she knew you.. she knew that you hated parties, hated smoking, hated the thought of being peer pressured, hated alcohol. anything that was sinful for you in general you despised, but this night wanda was your heaven sent angel

"just thought i would've gave it a try you know?" you murmured into her ear the music was still too loud to have a conversation with one of you yelling or whispering into the others ear "I guess its not my thing" wanda brought her hand up to your back as she slowly caressed it up and down making a wave of comfort wash over you.

"it doesn't have to be your thing" her eyes softened as she noticed your discomfortness " Y/n.. you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with" "you don't have to pretend with me you know?" you couldn't help but feel your cheeks warming up and blushing at the sound of your name coming out her mouth and the sentence that tugged at your heart strings heer words truly resonated within you, cutting through the noise of the party and the insecurities that had you held up throughout the party. A reassurance that you didn't have to adjust to anyone else's expectations to belong.

"honestly you could just be yourself and thats all i want" her pupils dilated as she looked into your eyes this caught you off guard "nothing else?" you smiled and teased wanda seeing how far you could push her back into her regular state she quickly hit your shoulder and rolled her eyes as she giggled.

A flashback to two months ago

You were invited to breakfast by wanda you weren't used to waking up as early as her. This restaurant spot was where you guys would meet up countless times to talk, study or just have a coffee you didn't like waking up early to meet up with wanda like this but you couldn't help but fiend for her presence so you pushed yourself cause it was wanda and you wanted her, you loved her, you desired her. The morning sun was glistening over your skin as you stared at your phone until wanda spoke up "The service is awfully slow today.." you weren't used to seeing wanda be impatient was she complaining too much? no she wasn't it's true the service was very slow it makes sense since it's summer there was many tourists visiting the city just for food, beaches, views and expenses it held. "I could've cooked my own food faster than this.." wanda muttered under her breath you weren't used to seeing cold attitude come from her even her voice was laced with venom but you quickly spoke up and decided to ignore it "i'm sure they're just busy.." you noticed she was biting the inside of her cheek wanda would always do this whenever she had something heavy on her mind or if she was just frustrated. It hurt you seeing her like this so you snapped her out of her thoughts "wanda our foods here" she quickly re adjusted herself straightening her posture in the seat as the server set her food down along with yours "Sorry for the wait, enjoy." the server smiled at you both as he walked away quickly attending other customers. Wanda just rolled her eyes leaving a awkward but comforting silence you weren't sure what to say to cut the tension in the air until wanda spoke up "So.. i have news" you noticed something was off her voice was a bit hesitant before speaking that wasn't normal either she was always so confident before she spoke.. you raised your eyebrow giving a signal to wanda to continue talking as you bit into your food "I've been seeing this guy.." your heart immediately stopped at the mention of a guy wanda is with, the oxygen in your lungs felt nonexistent, the butterflies in your stomach died, it felt like you were suffocating almost, your chest started to burn as you coughed on your food a bit as you tried to force a smile "That's great wanda" you spoke up trying to suppress the feelings of jealousy within you, you wanted to scream at her telling everything you ever felt for her what you loved about her and how much you longed for her but you knew you couldn't. wanda spoke up again silencing the ringing noise in your ears "We're still figuring things out you know?" "I just wanted you to be the first to know" she smiled at you how could you not love wanda? The room fell silent once again, the weight of Wanda's words heavy in the air. You glanced around the restaurant until you swallowed scrambled eggs and your feelings of jealousy "im happy for you" your voice was slightly trembled oh how you wished wanda wasn't so blind..

I was drinking hard, acting tough But it was just a crush, just a crush

There you were dancing with wanda you were at least two shots in not enough to be drunk but enough to start pouring out your heart to her of how you wanted to marry her, make her yours, or be hers? your body was starting to loosen up so was the lump in your throat with every secret you held you towards her you couldn't help but notice how beautiful wanda looked even with messy hair your mind would sometimes drift off wondering if that's what she would look like if you ever had the chance to wake up next to her. You couldn't help where your mind was drifting off to but it felt strange, your mouth started to open up as if it was a feeling of vomit the music made you deaf from any words that were about to come out your mouth you tried to protest it but soon your body gave up

"Wanda.." You said her name as if it was a prayer she kept dancing as she heard you speak up the lights looked so beautiful in her eyes as it glistened over her face making wanda a bit unrecognizable and making your vision hazy mixed with the alcohol you had...

You knew she didn't want you, You knew she was with vision, she belonged with vision, She didn't even think of you that way but here you were about to dump your feelings towards her the weight on your chest was starting to feel heavier.

As Wanda danced like a angel gracefully, her laughter ringing out like in your ears, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing deep within your chest. She was so close, yet so far away, a distant star shining brightly in a sky you could never reach.

"Wanda" You repeated once again... You leaned into her waiting for her to send or give a sign of some assurance that she knew what you were trying to do or if your feelings were reciprocated she soon leaned in and brushed her lips against yours. Your heart started to pound quickly as if it was a ticking time bomb that was about to explode. The kiss was soft, tender she tasted like cherries, rum and wine with a hint of cinnamon you were testing the waters first until she deepened the kiss making it become more passionate with a trembling touch you cupped her face into your hand you could feel how warm her cheeks were getting and the smile forming on her face as you pulled back she pulled back into the kiss making her breath warm and sweet you could tell she wanted this too with the way she pushed her body against yours the longer the kiss continued you pulled back and started kissing onto her neck as she moaned into your ear all you wanted to do in that moment was melt into her arms but it soon came to a end.

The feeling of vomit was starting to get heavier on your chest the more you stared at her figure dancing in the strobing lights

"im gonna get another drink" Your voice trembled with emotion as she nodded and smiled give you assurance that she would be right there just dancing the night away knowing she'll never walk away from you. You wished you could stay there forever with her but you walked away quickly to the bathroom making your way through the crowd getting elbowed a few times and struggling to get out of some tight spaces

You immediately shut the door once you stepped in and looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair was messy droplets of sweat were pouring down your face, watery eyes, pupils dilated. You looked completely out of it, you couldn’t tell what was real or fake, there was still adrenaline running throughout your veins from the sensation wanda had once placed on your lips and the melody she left ringing in your ear it was everything you ever wanted you soon closed your eyes turning on the sink splashing your face with water noticing the vivid image of wanda’s face and the lights you soon opened your eyes and smiled recollecting your thoughts of what just happened you were all happy and thought about how it was finally the right time to confess your feelings to wanda. You resented that vision was going to hold a spot in wanda’s heart even if you wanted to be in a relationship with her but you daydreamed about ways it could work out for the both of you.

Soon after you stopped smiling to yourself and daydreaming what you and wanda could be you soon stepped out the bathroom your eyes being greeted with the sight of clint coming up to you

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” He drunkenly swung his arm around you catching you off guard forcing you to regain your balance “Clint right now is not the best time…” You whispered into his ear trying to look for wanda in the crowd. It was hard to look for anyone in general even with the strobe lights flashing and fog in the air masking everyone, making it impossible to find her.

The air was choking up your throat as you tried to get a fresh breath of air from how terrible the party smelled but you had to adapt your senses to it even if it meant passing out all that mattered to you right now was getting to wanda. Your heart started to race the more you were scanning the crowd with desperation of finding wanda but you could barely recognize anyone… The feeling of clint trying to tug you back into his presence wasn’t helping you focus much either and the fact that he was yelling into your ear was just causing you more overstimulation. You bumped into a couple of people having to apologize profusely over and over your voice noticeably shaking with fear and emotion until….

You finally spotted wanda crossing out everyone in the crowd making the lights that were once flashing into your eyes causing a headache, you noticed she was dancing with a tall figure you really couldn’t make out who it was but you noticed it was some tall blond lanky man dancing and grinding against her they looked like two intertwined souls dancing with not a care in the world. You couldn’t help but feel a lump build up in your throat as you spotted the two having such a intimate dance, your throat got even tighter when you recognized it was vision the man who she would brag about all the time and how happy she was with him..

Was that why she was smiling at you all night? Was that why she didn't pull away from your kiss? Your mind drifted off to multiple scenarios maybe she was trying to get her mind off of vision. You knew he wasn't the perfect boyfriend for her well everyone had their reasonings but that's what you wanted to believe so you could swoop in and be with wanda because at the end of the day you believed that you were the one she belonged to. You remembered those nights you stayed up late just to hear her rambling about how many times she caught vision cheating on her you tried to convince her to break up with him not out of jealousy but out of how you wanted the best for her even if that meant not being with you. You didn't really have the right to be upset with her even if she was dancing with vision..

Feeling suffocated by the weight of unrequited love, you needed an escape – something to numb the ache in your chest and quiet everything that was going on in your head. So, without a second thought, you gave Clint a quick glance and pulled him into the kitchen, where all the drinks were stocked.. Your throat was tight and burning enough already, the alcohol was not going to suppress your feelings for her, it wasn't going to suppress the numbness you felt at the sight of wanda dancing with vision but you decided this is what you need to clear your head so you drank away

"Hey.. y/n lets slow down the drinks alright?" although clint was a bit drunk he still had a mind of his own. To be fair he was the only one out of the group who knew you best even since you didn't speak your feelings he could still tell what was wrong with you. You could notice that clint was very concerned and worried for you all you needed to do was to communicate with him so he could stop you for whatever disaster was about to happen.

"I'm fine."

You paused, your hand hovering over the bottle, the weight of Clint's words sinking in. In that moment, you realized that drowning your sorrows in alcohol wouldn't make the pain of seeing wanda with vision go away – it would only numb it temporarily. But either way you took a long chug of whichever alcohol you chose from the counter and how it left a sharp pain in your throat the same sharp pain wanda was leaving..

Clint watched you silently, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. He knew all too well the pain you were having as he soon came to what made you this way the agony of watching someone he cares for slip through his fingers. "I just need a moment," you muttered, your words slurring slightly as the alcohol began to take effect. But even as you spoke, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at your insides, a constant reminder that wanda would never be yours and that her happily ever after would be with vision even in every other universe..

You were already soon too deep it had been a few minutes ever since you chugged multiple cups of alcohol and clint snatched the bottle from you although you tried to fight him and protest but you knew he wasn't doing any wrong so you soon gave up after.. You noticed a few looks coming from the crowd as you started to cause a scene while all clint was trying to do was diffuse the situation as he took the bottles and cups away from you.

Your body was starting to give up as you tried to lean against the counter for support even clint was trying to help you regain your composure your muscles were slacking and the lights started to turn into a hazy vision of a kaleidoscope, the weight of the alcohol and emotions bore down on you, the world around you began to blur and spin. With each passing moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis, the sounds and colors melding together into a haze.

You tripped over your own foot as you tried to lean against the counter again but without warning you soon saw every overwhelming sense come to a halt as the last thing and all you could perceive were scurried footsteps and Wanda's voice, a distant echo calling out your name in panic and worry. The last sensation being the vibrations of her voice coming through and her hands reaching out to catch your weak body as you felt droplets from what you assumed were tears of concern coming from wanda.. In that moment, as darkness closed in around you, you couldn't help but not have a single thought but for now, all you could do was surrender to the embrace of unconsciousness and wandas arms wrapped around you as she tried to help you.. The voices of the crowd and clint and wanda and then vision were the finally the last thing.

[this-is-chaos-magick]

Ah yes my " What if white Vision is in DSMOM but he hasn't regain his "vizh feelings" yet but he knows Wanda is important to him so he just follows her around and stand near her while she does her villain activities" AU

[magicpiano]

I have seen a few DCxMarvel dimension travel fics, and quite a few of them are of them are Peter Parker post-blip. Which gives me a crack fic idea: everyone who got snapped ended up in the DC universe. Yes, all of them.

The current world population is around eight billion, so half of that would be 4 billion... Yeah that would cause so so so many problems. But the DC universe is used to crazy shit.

Obviously there would be a sudden influx of "new" heroes and villains but with absolutely no context it is hard to figure out who is who.

Batman immediately trying to make contingency plans for all these new heroes and villains as well as figure out their civilian identities but this is very difficult because literally no records exist yet.

Magic users from both worlds team up, but I think they were still unable to fix it, the infinity stones were just too powerful. Also I think Dr. Strange and Constantine can't stand each other.

While I am at it, Wonder Woman and Loki would probably hate each other too. DC is more Greek but it has had their own version of Norse mythology, so maybe they are the same and have beef?

They would struggle to feed and house that many new people, but getting them jobs and integrating them into society would be hard too. And good luck proving anything anyone says. "You swear you have a law degree from Harvard? Okay I guess."

Do doubles exist? Yeah a lot of people probably don't have an alternate universe double, but it stands to reason some do. How do you deal with having a new kind-of twin? Or a dead friend or relative coming back, but different? Or even someone you never knew/doesn't exist in this world insisting they are family.

Some au double ideas I have seen people toss around are: Dick Grayson as Richard Parker, Kara Danvers as Carol Danvers, Steve Trevor as Steve Rogers, and Slade Wilson as/being somehow related to Wade Wilson, but I am sure there are other fun ideas out there too.

The snap didn't just affect humans/earth! So other planets are having the same problems.

Then randomly, five years later, just when people were getting used to the change, they all disappear again without warning. This causes as many problems as the original appearance did.

[ravenromanova]

Come back to me Pt.1

Pairings: 616 Wanda x Vision, 616 Wanda x female reader, 838 Wanda x female reader

Warnings: None really for this part.

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!

This fic came from this request!!! enjoy :) I also have no idea how many chapters i’m gonna write so just sit back and enjoy :)

~

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be with you not him. Watching her hands all over him was like a knife to the gut. You kept wondering how you got here, how he was better for her than you. The world felt so much darker as you watch them cuddle up together on the couch.

*Flashback to a few days ago*

You were laying in your bed when you heard a soft knock on the door. You called out for whoever it was to come in and when the door opened it revealed a distressed looking Wanda. She shut the door behind her before she sat on the edge of your bed.

“I uh need to tell you something” Her voice was soft but hoarse as she spoke which made you nervous.

“You can tell me anything Wands” Wanda smiled at your words but she still didn’t know how to tell you what she needed to.

“Well uh. Vision asked me to be his girlfriend” Your eyes went wide at her words. “And i said yes” That was the moment you felt your heart break and a lump form in your throat.

“That’s great Wands! I’m so happy for you!” You lie as you put on your best happy face. Wanda felt like you were upset but she wasn’t going to push you to talk.

Your mind was going a million miles an hour and your heart was racing. The two of you talked for another few minutes before she left your room and you broke down.

That night you skipped out on dinner which Wanda made and opted for a mental breakdown instead.

*End flashback*

And that brings us to a few days ago. Team movie night. Aka the night you dread the most because you had to watch Wanda and Vison be all lovey dovey. You thought that after a few days the feeling of hurt and rejection would go away but it didn’t. If anything your heart broke more anytime you saw her or them together.

So in the days after Wanda and Vision were official you took a major step back and distanced yourself from Wanda. It took her by surprise when you told her you weren’t in the mood for your weekly movie night on tuesday. She didn’t understand why you were being so distant so she decided to corner you in the training room for answers.

Wanda walked into the training room determined to get answers.

“Y/n” Her voice made you take a step back from the punching bag and make eye contact with her.

“Yea Wands?” Your voice was gravelly and hoarse causing a shiver to go down her spine.

“Why are you avoiding me” Your brows furrowed at her bluntness and you stood there confused.

“I-I’m not” You said trying to defend yourself. She scoffed a little a crossed her arms over her chest.

“Really? Because you’ve turned me down for our movie night, you started training with Nat instead of me, you don’t sit next to me at dinner anymore and we haven’t gone to lunch in days” Wanda said pouting a little and you felt your heart strings tug a little.

“I’ve just been busy” Was all the explanation you gave her and she huffed in annoyance.

“Y/n please!” She begged feeling her eyes well up with tears. “I miss you” Her words made you sigh as you grabbed your water bottle.

“Wanda please..It���s nothing to do with you i’ve just had a lot going on that’s all” You said softly looking into her soft green eyes.

“Okay…I’m sorry” Was all she said before she abruptly left you in the training room. You turned around to say something but the doors shut before you could.

You stood there as your thoughts ran wild and you felt a lump in your throat. It was all too much for you to handle so you just gathered your things and went back to your room hoping to sleep it off.

When you got to your room you were quick to turn the shower on and step into the warm water. The water cascaded down your skin melting away some of the tension in your muscles. You tried to shake the thoughts of Wanda out of your head as you washed your body then hair. You took your time with each step not wanting to leave the warmth and safety of the shower.

Once you were fully satisfied with your shower you stepped out and wrapped yourself in your fluffy robe. You changed into your favorite sweats and hoodie before slipping into bed just wanting to sleep away your problems. So that’s what’s you did you turned on The Vampire Diaries before you drifted off into unconsciousness state.

*Your dream*

The sun shined on your face causing you to groan a little before you slowly opened your eyes. You looked around and noticed that you weren’t in your room. You slowly uncovered yourself and walked around the room. There were small trinkets scattered around along with pretty paintings on the walls. But your heart stopped when you saw the picture on the nightstand. It was of you and Wanda with two baby boys smiling at the park.

Your heart started to beat faster and your hands started to sweat as you stared at the picture. After a minute of staring at it you put it back down and grabbed the robe on the door before walking to what you assume was the kitchen.

The sounds of giggling filled your ears as you approached the kitchen. And you couldn’t believe what you saw when you walked in. There Wanda was sitting at the kitchen table with two boys who looked around five and they were eating breakfast.

“Morning malysh” She greeted as she stood up from the table to grab the plate she made you. You walked up to her with a small smile on your face not really understanding what was going on but loving it nonetheless. Wanda handed you the plate with a small kiss on your cheek and you sat down next to one of the boys.

“Morning mommy” The little boy in a blue shirt said giving you a side hug when you sat down. Your eyes widened a little and you looked at Wanda who had a little smirk on her face.

“Uh morning honey” You said giving the boy a kiss on the head before you started eating along with them.

“How’d you sleep?” Wanda asked sitting back down at the table. She gave you a look as you asked making you wonder if she knew you were confused.

“I slept okay” You said tilting your head in confusion at the look she gave you. Wanda just nodded at your words and continued to eat her breakfast.

The four of you ate breakfast and you learned the boys names Billy and Tommy. You were still confused as to what was going on after you cleaned up from eating. Wanda had sent the boys to their room after you finished eating so she could talk to you for a moment.

“Malysh?” You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist when you heard her voice. You turned around in her arms to face her making her smile a little.

“Yea?” You said in a soft voice making Wanda damn near melt.

“Are you okay?” She asked knowingly.

“Not really…I’m confused. One minute i fell asleep in my room at the compound and then the next i’m here with you and…and our kids?” As the words left your mouth you grew even more confused as to how this happened.

“Well if it makes it easier to understand this is a dream” Your eyes widened at her words.

“What?!” You said completely bewildered not comprehending what the fuck was going on.

“Well it’s a dream of our future” She said as she took you to the couch. The both of you sat on the couch and you waited for her to continue.

“I’m not the Wanda from your universe to start. In my universe i made the same mistake as the Wanda from your universe. I chose Vision in my universe just like yours did and i regretted it immediately but i felt stuck. And it wasn’t until…You uh died in my universe that i knew i made the biggest mistake of my life. I’ve spent the last two years trying to find a universe with you in it. Most universes have a you but you’re normally already with Wanda except in this universe…” You felt like you got whiplash from her words as you sat there and listened.

You sat there for a few minutes before you found the courage to speak. “So you’re not my Wanda and you’re from another universe? And i died in your universe? how? when? I-I and are the boys real? or are they just in the dream?” Wanda took your hand to stop you from having a panic attack.

“Breathe malysh breathe” She said calmly. “You died on a mission two years ago when we were taking down a hydra base and we got ambushed. We did everything we could to save you but it didn’t work. And yes in most universes the boys exist. We used a sperm donor to have them. You carried billy and i carried tommy.” Her words calmed you down a little.

Your thoughts were running rampant as you looked at the woman you loved. “I- Wow” Was all you were able to say making the witch laugh a little.

“I know this is a shot in the dark but w-would you come back to my universe with me? I-I can’t keep living without you” Wanda begged holding your hand a little tighter.

“But won’t that ruin the multiverse?” You asked a little nervous. It’s not that you didn’t wanna go it’s that you were scared and also thought that you were going crazy.

“No it won’t. I can make it to where you don’t exist in this universe. I can make it to where no one even knows your gone.” She said quickly to make sure that you didnt say no.

“Okay” You nodded your head. Wanda smiled and brought you in for a passionate kiss. And that’s when everything went blank.

*End of your dream*

You woke up and rubbed your eyes and looked around the room to make sure you were in your own room. It took you a few minutes to realize where you were and that you were okay. You shook off the dream assuming that it was just your brain playing games with you.

The clock read 12:02 when you saw a portal open in your room. You rubbed your eyes again as the portal opened and Wanda walked through.

“Wanda? What are you doing?” You asked still half asleep.

“I’m bringing you home Malysh”

~The end of part 1~

A/n Sorry not sorry for the cliff hanger 💋 I love yall and i’ll see you in the next part :)

[mari-thesapphic-lady]

Not me seeing agathario fandom start making fanfics in ao3 where Rio gets trapped in the Hex with Agatha and thinking innocently: "Wow, it would be very, very extremely psychologically painful and so fucking full of cuteness if Wanda's spellwork gave them, idk, like, maybe, DAUGHTERS, wouldn't be?!"

[stayevildarling]

Marvel Masterlist

Agatha Harkness:

Secrets of want Agatha Harkness x Reader, nsfw

Undone by desire Agatha Harkness x Cordelia Goode x Reader, nsfw

Shadows of Magic Agatha Harkness x Reader ✾

Tangled in fear, wrapped in magic Agatha Harkness x Reader ✩

Dangerous together Agatha Harkness x Reader ✾, ❆

The quiet spells of Home Agatha Harkness x Reader ❆, nsfw

Spells behind closed doors Agatha Harkness x Reader nsfw

Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Wandanat:

Wildflower Wandanat x Reader ✾

Tangled in Doubt Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Cordelia Goode x Reader ✩, ✾, ❆

One too many secrets Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Cordelia x Reader ✾,❆

It all fell down Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Cordelia Goode x Reader ✾,❆

Russian Roulette Natasha Romanoff x Reader ✾,❆

In the silence Natasha Romanoff x Reader ✾,❆

Fragments of us Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Reader ✾

You're gonna go far Wanda Maximoff x Cordelia Goode x Reader ✩

Good Luck, Babe! Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Reader ✩, ✾, ❆

Always Natasha Romanoff x Reader ✾, ❆ Part 2

Scars to your beautiful Wandanat x Reader ✩

Pink Skies Natasha Romanoff x Reader ✾

Wait a minute Natasha Romanoff x Reader (nsfw)

Whispered confessions Natasha Romanoff x Reader (nsfw)

Falling back into us Natasha Romanoff x Reader ❆ +nsfw

Mountains Wandanat x Reader ✩

Shot in the Dark Natasha Romanoff x Reader nsfw

Fractured Futures Wanda Maximoff x Reader ✾

✩ = mental health, ✾ = angst, ❆ = fluff

[fandomnerd9602]

Parents & Kids

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

It started out as such an innocent question. Born from the curiosity of one of your twin deer, hybrid boys, Billy.

“ what happened to my father?” he asked his voice rimming with uncertainty.

That question really struck a nerve with your mate your wife Wanda Maximoff-(L/N). You could see the color practically drain from her face as soon as the question left Billy‘s lips.

“Look at that,” you quickly covered, “boys you’re gonna be later for school”

The twins ran for their backpacks. You gave Wanda a reassuring kiss on the lips and touched your forehead to hers.

“I’ll take them to school,” you whispered, “just worry about Natalie, okay?”

“Okay” Wanda whispered back, her voice shaking as small tears made their way down her face, “thank you”

You drop the boys off at their kindergarten class and haul back to the house. You give Natasha a call saying that you and Wanda need to take a personal day.

“I know Chief,” Natasha replies thru the phone. “Wanda told me about it. Take it slow, okay?”

You arrive home to find your doe pacing back and forth, her usually giddy tail is hanging down rather depressingly.

“Natalie is down for her nap,” Wanda explains as she walks up to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. She just collapses against your chest, little sobs escaping her lips.

You wrap your own arms around her, rubbing her back reassuringly. “I know. I know”

“I-I always thought I’d have more time, my buck” she cries against your chest softly. “I-I barely talked about him with you and…and…”

“Wanda, I know,” you reply. “I know about Vision”

“You do?”

“Pietro filled me in on him. Who he was to you and him. I’ve known since before Natalie was born”

“Why did you not tell me?” Wanda asks.

“You were already under so much duress with the pregnancy,” you wipe away her tears with your thumbs, “I didn’t want to add to it”

“How do I tell our boys the truth?” Wanda wonders, her worries leaking through, “d-do I tell them every detail? Do I tell about my captivity? Do I tell them how…how..?”

Your wife tears up. You hold her tight, gently rocking her back and forth.

“I mean I liked Vis. He was a good family friend,” Wanda tries to explain, “but we were together one time and that’s what led to the boys”

“I have to be honest,” you said with a shrug, “I was always afraid that our boys’ father would come back and take you all away from me”

Wanda lets out a little sad chuckle, “my love for you is deeper than any love I’ve felt for anyone in my life”

You touch your forehead to hers, “our boys deserve to know about him.” You try to formulate, “We’ll just tell them that he died before they were born and never got the chance to know them.”

“But he would’ve loved them too” your doe adds.

“And that this doesn’t change the dynamic of the family we built.”

“Agreed” Wanda says with a sad little smile. You hear the gentle murmurs of your infant daughter from her crib. “Natalie’s up!”

You both rush to the nursery, both of you tending to your daughter’s needs.

School comes to an end. You and Wanda pick up your boys from kindergarten and bring them home. The car ride was unusually quiet.

You gently guide the boys to your couch as soon as you walk through the door. You and Wanda made a quick stop at the Sanctuary before picking them up.

“Billy, Tommy,” you gently tell them, “your momma and I have something to show you-“

“I’m sorry Poppa” Billy says, “I didnt mean to make Momma cry. I just wanted to know who my father was”

“But you’re still our Poppa, right?” Tommy asks. “We think you are.”

You smile, “yeah I’m still your Poppa and you’re still my boys.”

Wanda sits in between the boys, clutching a Polaroid. “This is your father.”

The boys stare at the picture of a blonde haired male deer hybrid. You could tell that he hailed from Great Britain just by his body language and smile in the pic.

“This was Vision,” Wanda explains, “he was…a good friend. Kind, supportive, caring, helped out me and your uncle Pietro when we needed it most.”

“What happened to him, Momma?” Billy asks.

“He died before you were both born,” Wanda replies, her voice dripping with tears and sadness. “But I know he would’ve loved you both”

You wrap your family in your arms and hug them tight, “I know I’m not your birth father but I will always be there for you both”

“That’s why we like calling you our Poppa” Billy replies. A few tears made their way down your face.

Pietro was closer to Vision than Wanda was. The boys would occasionally ask about their birth father but they always reiterated how much they loved you still.

It was circumstances that led to the boys’ birth but it was the love that you and Wanda share that led to a whole family.

A family that you treasure more than anything in the world.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @olsenmyolsen @idkwhatever580 @moonlit-imagines @multi-fandom-enjoyer @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @pinklawyerwinnerzonk

[olsenmyolsen]

Hi lovely!! To answer your question about what I’d like to see in the future, first of all I just want to say that I am so so deeply glad you’ve started writing and sharing your work with us, I just think you are so so so good at writing and extremely original with each concept you come up with!! I get SO excited every time I see you’ve posted something!! Personally, my favorite fics to read are female reader with either Wanda or Natasha, or with wandanat. Hands down my most favorite fic you’ve written and that I find myself thinking about frequently is, ‘you have me for the night,’ like it is seriously mindblowingly amazing as a concept and the way you executed it!😍

My other favorites you have so kindly created and shared with us to enjoy include ‘ups and downs,’ I just can’t get over how fantastic your writing is and how funny and enthralling this story is. ‘Taste,’ simply had me in a chokehold with how hot it was and all the pining and sexual tension! Your vampire reader stories and ‘inspiration,’ are also some of my personal favorites from you.

I think I personally really like stories that have some pining and build up which you write soooo deliciously well.

I would also eat it up if you ever had any interest in a female reader and Wanda or wandanat fic with reader being a new avenger and a werewolf who discovers that Wanda (or wandanat) is her mate when she joins the team. Maybe Wanda (or wandanat) even doesn’t like reader much or doesn’t trust her when she joins so it’s like an enemies to lovers, lots of pining kind of situation.

To whoever requested this mooooonths ago, I am so so so so sorry it took me this long to complete it. I honestly started and deleted writing it like five different times. I just couldn't find the right plot in my head. But hopefully, you enjoy this <3 And I truly apologize if you're upset with some liberties I took and changed.

After Midnight

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

Yes loosely based on the Chappell Roan song :)

Monster AU (Female Werewolf Reader X Monster Hunters WandaNat)

Summary: For some time now, Wanda has had visions of you. She doesn't know who you are, but when her senses lead her and her girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, to a club, they end up learning more about the world than they thought they knew.

Word Count: 2.6K

Content: Crowded Places, Monsters, References to Sex, Teeth, Biting, Lust

You danced in a dress that you wanted forever with red lipstick painted on your lips.

The poppy music swirled around you and through the club, as you drank and made quick friends with girls you knew wouldn't remember your name the next day.

Only the fact that your teeth sunk into their neck.

And the cry of pleasure that followed.

Regardless, with a smile, you danced and drank (as if you could even get drunk) and waited for the woman you had been dreaming of for the last few months.

A woman you knew belonged to you.

A woman who, like you, had been dreaming of someone she felt connected to.

You.

"Wanda, are you sure this is it?" Natasha Romanoff asked of her partner Wanda Maximoff as they arrived outside the club The Full Moon.

To say Natasha was annoyed would be an understatement. Her girlfriend Wanda had been having these dreams of an ethereal animalistic woman for months.

Wanda was open and honest about what she would see. Natasha almost wishes she wasn't.

Almost.

And yes, Natasha knew what she was experiencing was jealousy, but when her girlfriend says she "feels a connection" to this mysterious person, how else was she supposed to feel?

So, as the two of them entered the club, they both had their sights set on finding you. Whoever you were.

The second the pair of Monster Hunters enter the club, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your sense going off. Yet, through the bodies of people in the club, you can't locate them as quickly.

Especially in your human form.

With a sigh, you give your empty glass to a hammered girl with big boobs and glasses as you leave the dance floor.

You hope to find the two monster hunters faster this way.

However, across the club, as the rainbow lights bounce off everything around Wanda and Natasha, they also sense something is off. Wanda gives Natasha a quizzical look after they order their drinks.

A purple cocktail for Wanda and a beer for Natasha.

"You sense it?" Wanda asks. Natasha nods as her eyes are already scanning what she can see. "A monster on this side of town? This late into the month? I don't know." Natasha replied to Wanda, who picked up her cocktail seconds after it was delivered.

Wanda also looks around the spacious room. "See anything?" She asks Natasha, who shakes her head. The two of them are experts in their field. They should be able to snuff out who or what is breaking the laws set before them, but they can't.

On top of that, they're off the clock.

Natasha turns back to the bar and takes a sip of her beer. Wanda looks at her girlfriend. "Let's just focus back on finding this mysterious person and figure out why I'm drawn to them."

Once again, that option isn't as thrilling to Natasha, but she follows along. She loves Wanda and knows how much this means to her. "Okay." She says, grabbing Wanda's hand and following her to the dance floor.

You move from your sat postion at a table far too close to a speaker as you watch the way a redhead follows another woman hand in hand into the crowd of drunks on the lit-up floor.

"Gotcha." You whisper spotting the off the clock Monster Hunters silhouetted in black. You smile, knowing you like to have fun with these people regardless, but it is far too late into the night for them to do anything.

After Midnight.

In the middle of a sea of people, Natasha and Wanda slowly start to lose themselves to the indie pop hits of today, but just as Wanda goes to finish off her cocktail, she gasps. Natasha immediately notices and comes to her side. "What is it?"

A vision plays out in Wanda's head—a vision you also see.

You smirk as the vision dissapears in your mind. You finally figured out what these visions mean.

"What is it?" Natasha asks as Wansa looks up and around the place. "She's here." Natasha looks as well but stops when Wanda gestures towards you, making your way through the crowd.

Natasha freezes as she looks over you. You're, of course, gorgeous (something maybe Wanda didn't fully explain), and you're wearing a red dress that hugs your curves beautifully.

Natasha looks from you to Wanda, whose mouth is slightly apart, in awe. "It's you," Wanda says, making you tilt your head with a smirk.

"Aside from my visions... Where do I know her from?" You question yourself before you stand in front of the pretty pair of faces looking at you. "Hi!" You say it with a sultry tone, making Natasha blatantly roll her eyes. Something you find amusing. Something Wanda ignores as she brings her body closer to you. "Hi." She says it with a soft, almost too-quiet tone.

"So you're from my vision." You cut to the chase as you bring your body closer to the brunette. Ignoring the glares from the redhead. "And you're from mine," Wanda replies.

Natasha huffs as she interrupts the eye fucking going on. "Okay. Yes. You have dreams about one another. What does that mean?" Natasha not so subtly moves in between you and the brunette. You look from the girl with the soft expression to the one with raging red hair. "And you are?" You say, biting back a smirk.

Natasha hates your attitude, forcing herself to narrow her eyes. She thinks you're lucky she's using all her strength not to fight you right now. "I'm Natasha Romanoff. I'm this one girlfriend." She says, pointing back to the brunette.

You smile. "Girlfriend?" You ask, questioning the other woman, who nods. "I'm Wanda. Wanda Maximoff." She extends her hand and raises her voice above the club music. You gingerly take her hand and shake it. The action sends a jolt of electricity through the two of you. Making you smile even wider.

"What?" Natasha asks as she sees the look on your face.

"It's just you two don't know why you've been having these visions, do you?" Each person shakes their head at you. "Well... there's no easy way to say this." You look around. Maybe the middle of the dance floor isn't the best place. "Follow me." You say to them, not caring if Natasha wants to follow or not.

You knew Wanda would.

You paid off the bouncer to the VIP area and closed the door to a private room. "Oh, come on." Natasha groans, seeing the bed in the middle of the room. "I didn't know The Full Moon was this kind of place." Wanda quietly held in a laugh as her girlfriend squeezes her hand. Annoyed. "It's not like that, I promise." You say, gesturing between you and Natasha, ignoring the comment about the bed as you move in front of the girlfriends.

It was just there for people to have a good time consensually.

As you look from one face to the other, it clicks for you.

However, just to be sure, you lightly sniff the air in the room, and your senses instantly alert you to the presence of two Monster Hunters.

The ones in front of you. 

You can't help but shake your head and smirk.

Of course.

"You two don't seem to know much about this place." You say to Natasha mainly. She rolls her eyes again. "Look, just tell us the real reason we're here." You put your hands up in a fake surrender and walk over the bed. Sitting down on it before moving back ever so slightly. Your covered breasts and long tan legs perfectly make Wanda want more.

"Wanda is my mate." You come right out and say it, knowing it would throw the two of them for a loop.

Also laughing knowing that they're Monster Hunters. They weren't supposed to be able to mate with said Monsters.

Wanda stares at you wide-eyed as if she can't believe what she just heard. Even if it was the truth and not that far from unbelievable.

She has witches blood in her after all.

Natasha, on the other hand, can't fathom it. She laughs like it's a big prank and steps closer to you. "Mate? Yeah right. Okay. Quit messing around around. Tell us the real reason."

You squint your eyes at Natasha and lie down on the bed. Sighing. "That is the real reason." Natasha opens and closes her mouth before stumbling to say: "Only Monsters can have mates." Natasha looks at you and slowly backs up. Grabbing a stunned Wanda, the two of them move away from the bed. "If it's true, then you're a Monster. That's why we sensed something. It was you!"

You lift your head up slightly. "First correction. Monsters aren't the only ones who can have mates. And secondly, do I look like a monster to you?"

"I th-"

"I was asking Wanda." Natasha closes her mouth and looks at her girlfriend. Her gaze on the person on the bed. You. "I.. I don't think you look like a Monster."

"Wanda!" Natasha says, unable to believe what Wanda was saying. Or trying to say. "I'm a beauty, Nat. What can I say." You smirk before looking at Natasha and winking. 

Even before tonight, she was having trouble coming up with reasons to be here, but now she's really struggling.

Natasha looks from Wanda to you once more. "What are you?"

"Wanda's mate. Now I don't know-"

"What are you really!?" Natasha asks, not wanting to hear any more about you and HER girlfriend. "Tasha." Wanda quietly says as she pulls on Nat's hand.

Wanda understands Natasha's frustrations and anger, but to Wanda, you were attractive, and Wanda did want to know more. Being rude wasn't going to solve anything.

You slowly pull yourself up and off the bed. Standing several feet away from the two. "I'm a Werewolf." You say, a tad quieter than you had been all night.

Something Natasha and Wanda picked up on.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Natasha asks, looking for more answers. "Aren't the visions enough?" You reply, almost annoyed. Natasha shakes her head. "Prove what you are."

You roll your eyes and take steps closer to Wanda and Natasha. Neither woman moving away. They're intrigued. You lift your upper lip up so the Monster Hunters can see a large canine tooth form before going away.

"The closer it gets to a full moon, the harder it becomes to control my human form."

Silence rests between everyone.

"Funny name for a bar then, no?" Wanda breaks the tension with a joke that makes you laugh. A sound Wanda giggles at.

Natasha squeezes Wanda's hand and does her best not to smile as she looks at you. "So now what?"

"Well, you're not taking me in. I'll tell you that." You look from the green shimmer in Wanda's eyes. "We won't," Wanda says without missing a beat.

Natasha sighs. "We weren't going to anyways. It's after hours and... and now the situation's complicated."

Truthfully, Natasha didn't care if she saw you ever again. But the more Wanda hung around you, the harder it was to pull her back.

"You know..." Natasha speaks up. "We came here tonight with one goal in mind. To see who Wanda was sharing visions with. But now that she's supposedly your mate and all that... What happens?" Natasha swallows and looks from Wanda to you and back. "Because I'm not losing Wanda to you. Not tonight." Natasha shakes her head as her eyes sting. But she sniffles and holds back the tears.

The thought of Wanda not being with her is eating away at her.

"You don't have to lose Wanda." You smirked as you brought your body closer and closer to Wanda. Her soft eyes going from her girlfriend to you.

She doesn't want to lose Natasha either.

"You know..." You lift your hand, making Natasha step forward, but she stops when she sees you push some hair from Wanda's face. "Us Monsters or Werewolf's aren't like Seahorses." Wanda tilts her head as she lays your hand on her cheek, bringing your eyes to Natasha. "Mating doesn't end with one person. It's normal and what usually happens, but... it doesn't have to be."

You bring your gaze back to Wanda as she looks from you to Natasha. Both of them understand your words. "You wouldn't lose her, Natasha."

You're honest and surprisingly caring. At least that's what Natasha thinks of you now.

"What are you doing now?" Natasha asks as you lean forward and look at Wanda's skin—especially the beautiful place on her neck.

Wanda can sense what you're thinking. "She wants to bite me." Natasha widens her eyes and goes to push you away, but you quickly grab her arm and twist it.

Your true strength coming through.

"I'm trying to be a good, good girl." You let go of Natasha, making her huff and stand in between you and Wanda. "I'm sorry I just love a little drama."

"We should get going," Natasha speaks to you as her eyes never leave yours. Yet she doesn't move. The second she gives you makes your mouth work faster than your brain. "I'm feeling kinda freaky." You raise a playful eyebrow. "Maybe it's the moonlight. Maybe it's something else. The club lights?" You shrug and step closer to Natasha.

Wanda watches as your eyes travel to Nat's smooth skin.

"I kinda wanna kiss your girlfriend, if you don't mind."

Natasha opens her mouth to argue, but Wanda stops her. "She's not talking to you," Wanda says as Nat looks back at you, wearing a widening grin. "M-me?" Natasha asks you.

And since walking into the club, the chip on Natasha's shoulder melts away. Wanda walks up behind her girlfriend, wraps her arms around her, and kisses her cheek. "We could never lose each other."

Yet Natasha still can't process what you're asking.

You nod as she stares at you. "You, Natasha." Wanda brings her lips up to Natasha's ears. "It's okay." You nod as your ears pick up Wanda's words. "And then Wanda."

"And then Wanda-" Natasha gets cut off as you invade her space and take her face in your hands. Your callous fingers move down Natasha's cheek as your aggressive kiss slows into one of passion.

This is what I wanted. This is what I like.

When you pull away, your lips are darker. Natasha stands stunned before bringing her fingers to her lips. Touching where you just were. "Yo-you just kissed me.?" She speaks, making you blush. "We can do more than that." You offer with a laugh.

Wanda, with her eyes dark, can read your mind as your kiss with Natasha opens up the connection between the three of you.

She knows you're not joking about the offer.

"Wanda..." Natasha turned her attention to Wanda as her girlfriend looked over her fondly. Lovingly. Natasha can see Wanda isn't upset by what just happened. Making Natasha's brain scramble for an answer.

A solution to the chaos of tonight.

"It'll be okay." Wanda steps forward and gives a quick peck. She can even taste you on Nat's pretty pink lips.

"B-but now... now what?" Natasha asks as she can't even think. You make your presence known again as you gently bring your hands to Natasha's. "We belong together. We make it real. I want to make this real." Natasha watches you for a moment in silence before your hands leave hers and grab Wanda's hair.

Moving it over her shoulder.

Exposing her neck.

This wasn't right.

And yet. Natasha can't help but move closer. Her mind being made up with each step. Natasha holds Wanda as you open your mouth.

However, it wasn't until the three of you were in the middle of the dance floor once again that you put your canine teeth in the side of her neck.

A scream of pleasure left her, and after midnight, that night, the three of you became more.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[multi-fandom-enjoyer]

Wanda and Y/n sit on their couch, as they watch Billy and Tommy sort out their Halloween candy with "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on the TV.

Y/n: Looks like the twins are having fun.

Wanda watches with a smile as Billy and Tommy begin to trade their candy with the other.

Wanda (sighs): This is perfect. No chaos. No threats. No missions. Just us.

Y/n nods in agreement before kissing their wife on her forehead.

Y/n: Happy Halloween, my witch.

Wanda: Happy Halloween, detka.

A/n: Happy Halloween!

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Lay me down gently

Summary: When I’m ready to fall, will you let go of my hand?

Pairing: past Natasha Romanoff x female!reader, platonic Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: death, heavy angst, depression, wandavision didn’t happen

Word count: 1391

a/n: too dark? Too sad?

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

It’s been a year since the day Y/N lost everything. Most of the people have already done the work to start moving on, but she hasn’t been able to do that. How could she? The love of her life, the woman who she was supposed to marry and live the rest of her life with, died.

Natasha sacrificed herself to save the world.

And Y/N loves her for that, she also hates her for it. She wishes Natasha would’ve been selfish. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hopes Natasha would’ve let Clint died, but she’ll never say that out loud. She knows Clint has the same wish. He has been trying to earn her forgiveness since that day. Even though, she has told him multiple times he doesn’t have to, that she has already forgiven him.

It’s not entirely untrue. Y/N would just prefer not to be around him. However, it’s difficult when his whole family is trying to get her to join them for family events. She doesn’t want to do that. Her family is gone, she doesn’t want another one.

During the year, Y/N has been locked up in her bedroom at the Avenger’s compound, she can’t go back to their home. It’s not her home anymore, the house never was, Natasha is the one that made it her home. She has continued working as an Avenger, doing her best to help the blipped people to get back into their lives. Besides, the crime never stops.

Her teammates have tried their best to get her out of the room, but all of them except Wanda have given up.

Wanda is a saint. She lost her home too, yet she is trying to help Y/N instead of herself. Y/N thinks she’s trying to escape the feeling of sorrow, just like she is by sleeping and rotting in her bed. She appreciates her friend, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Y/N sits in the Quinjet as the team flies towards their destination. Only a small part of the team was chosen for the mission, Steve, Tony, Wanda, and Y/N. It’s supposed to be a quick, in and out mission. They never are.

Tapping on her shoulder brings Y/N back to the present. She turns to the side to see Wanda gently smiling at her. She looks tired of trying, but Y/N knows Wanda would never stop.

“How are you?” Her voice is soft, as if Y/N would shatter if it was any louder. She might.

“Good.” A blatant lie, but Wanda accepts it with a nod. Y/N’s voice is hoarse and it breaks at every other word, it has lost the gentleness of it. She hasn’t spoken a lot during the year. She hasn’t had any reason to talk.

“Good.” Wanda nods again. Her eyes shift through the Quinjet, she’s desperately looking for something. “They’re holding these things,” she starts carefully, “like support groups, for people who lost family during the blip.” She pauses, waiting for Y/N to say something, anything. “Would you like to go with me? I could really use someone familiar there with me.”

Y/N turns to look at Wanda. She has such a hopeful smile on her face, and Y/N hates disappointing her, but they both know what her answer is going to be. “No.”

“Okay.” Wanda whispers, still holding a smile on her face. She doesn’t want her to know how affected she is by the numerous failed attempts of trying to help her friend. “Just let me know if I can help you in any way.”

Nodding, Y/N falls back into her own world, where she stays for the rest of the flight.

They land the Quinjet on top of an abandoned building. It’s supposed to be a HYDRA base that is no longer in use.

Steve checks the perimeter, returning to the other three when nothing catches his eyes. “Tony and I will go inside, you two stay up here in case someone tries to surprise us.” Y/N and Wanda nod.

Tony opens one of the vents on the roof and drops down, Steve following right behind him. The Quinjet turns invisible to hide from prying eyes.

The wind blows softly as Y/N and Wanda stand in silence. Although Wanda keeps a vigilant eye out on the perimeter, she can’t help but keep glancing at Y/N. She seems like she isn’t even there anymore, not emotionally at least.

A feeling of something wrong grows in her body. “Y/N.” She swallows. “I’m worried.”

“About?” Y/N’s eyes don’t even glance at Wanda.

“That if I don’t do something, you’ll get hurt.”

“Sometimes it’s better to do nothing.”

Wanda doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t have time to voice this, as a contained explosion rattles the concrete beneath their feet.

“The building is not empty!” Steve’s voice comes through the comms right as all the vents to the roof open and a group of HYDRA soldiers rush out.

Y/N takes out her weapons and Wanda’s eyes turn red as they start fighting the soldiers. They can hear Steve and Tony struggling as they fight inside the building. The soldiers are ruthless, and they don’t seem to be lessening no matter how much they fight them.

A groan leaves Y/N’s mouth as she gets hit by something hard to the back of her head. She shoots whoever did it, but her legs stumble closer to the edge. She shakes her head to make the fuzziness go away.

Lifting her head up, her eyes widen. The only thing she sees is a bright blast coming right towards her.

It hits her in the chest, causing her to fly over the edge.

“Y/N!” Wanda runs to the edge, pushing the soldiers out of her way.

The wind is rushing past Y/N’s ears as she falls. She can only see the sky and Wanda, who gets smaller and smaller every second, from her view the red hair looks almost like Natasha’s. There’s a smile on her face.

Natasha.

She knows her girlfriend would want her to give up, but she couldn’t be mad at her for wanting to be with her again. Y/N knows she’d be more than happy to see her face again.

As the time to act gets shorter and shorter, Wanda’s eyes turn red, readying her magic to soften Y/N’s landing. Because unexpectancy of her magic, she peeks into her mind, not on purpose, but it’s still just as clear. That fraction of a second in her mind and the blatant smile on Y/N’s face makes her pause. The pause is long enough for her eyes to turn back to normal. Everything rushes around in her mind as she tries to make sense of the situation, as she tries to get her head back to the present and just lift her up. But a feeling deep inside her makes Wanda unable to act.

A feeling she knows neither of them can escape. Unless…

She watches as Y/N falls and she wants to rips her eyes away, but she can’t do that to her friend. She has to be there for her one last time.

Wanda finally looks away after the impact. Her ears are ringing and the team is shouting over the comms but she can’t hear them. She heaves as she drops to her knees, a burst of magic leaving her body as she screams, pushing any enemy left down the building. Her eyes are turning blurry from all the tears rushing out, she isn’t sure if she’s tasting blood or bile in her mouth. Her whole body shakes from the sobs.

She did the right thing.

Her nails dig into her palms as the scene of Y/N falling down replays in her mind over and over again. She’s pretty sure someone is trying to talk to her through the comms, trying to find out what just happened.

Surely, she did the right thing.

“Y/N is dead.” Wanda gasps out, her voice weak as the words tumble out. They seem so wrong, so unfair. She screws her eyes shut, dropping her forehead against the cold roof under her.

The guilt will eat her alive.