#nat & ...unknown number !

[kurooandkenmasslut]

Hihi. Are your requests open? Can I also be 🐮 anon?

hn, if you were that anonymous person who requested for the kenma fic then yes!! but if you are not, you can choose another emoji !!

My requests are closed, I'm unable to write, I don't have the motivation to, my schedule is tight, and school is getting stricter about times. I am so, so sorry.

But if you want to request a small drabble, that is fine and i can do that !! xx

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[wandascrush]

Let the light in

Summary: The Avengers are separated after being hunted down and forced to live life on the low, causing a painful break up with the love of your life. What happens when she finds you again? Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

A/N: Based off of this request

Warnings: Angst, violence, loneliness, blood, breakup, team separated, depression, kissing, comfort

Song: Let the light in- Lana Del Rey

The team sat around the dark living room, the familiar voice of one of New York's most famous news anchors echoing in through the air, “Good evening New Yorkers, today we open our headline with some shocking news:  Former Stark enterprise building, located on the upper east side, exploded earlier today by a missile attack on the Avengers. Sources say Tony Stark was currently using it to house new plans for an updated Avengers training arena and larger compound.  Two architects, three investors, and one security manager was injured. Two of the victims later succumbed to their injuries after the explosion. Reports confirming the source of the violence are still unknown, however the Avengers were believed to have been inside the building at the time- hence the attack. The founding members of the Avengers Initiative such as Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Y/N L/N, and Clint Barton have yet to speak out. This marks the second targeted attack on our world’s heroes in nearly a month since the Maximoff twins incident in Barbados, where Pietro Maximoff was nearly assassinated. It raises the question for us all: Are our heroes being hunted?” 

The screen went black, bye bye news lady. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. “What’re we gonna do Tony?” You got no answer. 

 “Cap?”  

For the first time in the decade you’d known the team, (except for the Maximoffs & Peter) you saw uncertainty in all of their eyes. Tony threw his classic sunglasses on the couch, squeezing the middle of his nose in a useless attempt to massage an oncoming headache away, “Fury… thought it’d be wise if we split up for awhile-,” he was quickly shut up with protests from the group.

“It’s too dangerous. This isn't easy for me, but we're facing a threat that's beyond anything we've encountered before. I've crunched the numbers, run simulations – the Avengers need to disband temporarily. We scatter, go off the grid, and regroup when the dust settles.”

“This is bullshit, Tony. You know it is. This is exactly what they want-” 

“Tasha,” your gentle touch on her back always softened her heart, but not today. She didn’t even look at you. 

“It’s not the end, Nat. It’s like a strategic retreat. We're ensuring we'll live to fight another day. For once, I’m with Stark on this. We play it safe, keep low profiles, and spread out,” Steve sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a hard look at everyone, “we’re family, we keep each other safe. And this is how we do it.” 

As much as the idea made your stomach churn, he was right. He always was. This was your family. Every holiday, happy memory, laugh and cry and battle and bruise was all with them. This team is how you met the love of your life. You loved each other, and if this is what needed to happen, then you’d do it. 

But that didn’t sit well with your girlfriend. 

“No, end of story. We’re not separating.”

“You know I don’t think it’s just you’re choice, Natasha. I mean we have to decide this together,” your fingers lightly brushed the edge of the bed, nervously playing with the soft sheets you had just bought.

“Exactly, and I. Said. No.” She was acting like a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat her veggies, crossing her arms and raising her voice an octave.

It was then when you saw something different in her eyes, those beautiful green orbs that held so much sadness and joy at the same time. But today they were cloudy, like a storm was brewing in her mind. You gently slipped off of the bed and stood in front of her, pressing your forehead to hers, “You know it’s going to be okay, right?” soft palms caressed the side of her cheek, immediately feeling her sigh into your touch. “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” You wish your words were true. 

    Two months later the Avengers were spreading out all across the U.S., saying choked up goodbyes and packing your things. It was agreed upon that there’d be a team meeting once a month, every month, for the next year until you could figure out who the threat was, and how to eliminate them. You thought San Francisco sounded nice, fresh, and a little more peaceful than the hustle and bustle of New York. And it was, for a time. You got a haircut, dyed your gorgeous h/c locks to a rich h/c shade. You bought a sweet little home with a bay window over looking the Golden Gate Bridge, started building an in home gym and library, and kept an extremely low profile. You finished file work and other Avengers paperwork at home, with a high security grade laptop. Natasha on the other hand, refused to dye her hair, or keep a low profile. She didn’t want to admit that she was depressed, but it was glaringly oblivious. Being thrown out of her comforting routine put a wrench in Natasha’s life that not even you, her beautiful girl, could fix. All day she would do her paperwork, workout, and just keep to herself. It was like you weren’t even girlfriends anymore. Finally, in the fifth month of living “undercover,” she finally agreed to go on a low key date with you to a small, cozy bar on the outskirts of the city. You got dressed up for the first time in what felt like forever, did your makeup real pretty, and even did braids on Natasha’s silky hair. She looked happy, finally. Adorning a brown leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and a low cut green top- her classic silver arrow necklace sitting pretty on her chest- your girlfriend looked like her old self again...absolutely perfect. 

“You look gorgeous, baby,” swift arms swept you into a gentle kiss, smirking against your lips and pulling you close to her waist. 

You thought that night would be perfect, but by 11 pm you two were home and icing her bloody knuckles, static tv voices echoing in the background. You felt hot tears rising to the surface, but you never let them fall. It’s not like you were just mad or angry or disappointed…no this was something more. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed by Natasha. You thought you’d never say that sentence, but then there you were, apologizing to the bartender for your girlfriend's rowdy behavior, and throwing $20 to the guy she completely knocked out before nearly carrying her out of the bar and into a cab. Within the next two weeks she packed her bags, and your home was changing once again, now empty. 

  8 months later 

    The team said that you’d only be separated for a year, or less, but you were coming up on a year pretty soon and none of you were any closer to figuring out who the threat is. But you, you moved on, strived forward, and kept going. Your breakup with Nat had been one of the most painful moments of your life, but you didn’t let it stop you. These days you hardly cried over her at all, never even thought of the old days. Well, except for last Tuesday, when you saw one of her old sweaters and lied in bed for the rest of the day, or on Thursday when you heard her favorite song and- well, never mind that. You were at the top of your fucking game. 

  Ms. Romanoff, on the other hand, had moved out of San Francisco completely and settled in Washington D.C. from the last you heard. She attended the monthly zooms, same as you, but you two never addressed one another. Natasha pushed all of the heartbreak she harbored deep, deep down until she would lie down for bed and reach out next to her…but you were never there. 

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

7: SPRING FLING

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You try and get over Bucky with a sexual intervention.

Word count 3.2k

Warnings: jealous Bucky Barnes, original character (please feel free to imagine Alexander Skarsgård when reading the character of Erik), some Russian spoken between Bucky and Nat, Nat being the best bestie

“You know what you need?” Wanda shouted over the loud music, looking directly at you.

“What’s that?” You answered, equally as loudly, taking a sip from the cocktail in your hand.

“To get laid.”

The way that you choked on your drink was undignified and most unlady-like.

You glared at Wanda and at Natasha who was sitting on a barstool opposite you smirking. Wanda patted your back, sympathetically. They had convinced you to come out with them to the local club, where the music was pounding and the lights were dimmed and you didn’t have to think about your emotional problems. Surprisingly, the thumping music vibrated through your body, calming your mind. The alcohol also helped!

“Was this your idea?” You demanded from the red-head who merely shrugged in response.

“Cricket, honey, your aura needs a good cleansing.” Wanda fanned the space around you, trying to pick off the gremlins that only she had the ability to see.

“Yeah, maybe having some good D will help you get over these ridiculous feelings.” Nat may have spoken quietly, but you caught every word.

“Fine, make a suggestion.”

That got Wanda and Nat’s attention, their eyes lit up like two little girls who had been promised ponies for their tenth birthdays. Immediately they started conspiring and assessing the options so you wouldn't have a chance to change your mind.

You glanced around the joint, it was filled with people you recognized, if not by name, then at least you'd seen their faces in passing or at briefings. The compound wasn't so far away from the city but the location was remote enough that the traffic on the roads was mostly caused by commuting members of the S.H.I.E.L.D. organization. Unlike most of the Avengers, they weren't offered automatic room and board. But it did mean that a large number of people congregated in the local watering holes to let off steam.

You let Wanda and Nat drag you onto the dance floor, where the bass thumped in time with your heart. You let yourself get lost in the music, letting go of your worries and inhibitions. The alcohol had loosened you up, and you found yourself dancing with a stranger, their hands on your hips as you moved together in perfect sync.

As the night wore on, you found yourself laughing and chatting with different people, enjoying the attention and the thrill of the unknown. It wasn’t something you normally did, preferring the comforts of home and the company of your inner circle. But everything changes and sometimes you are forced to change to adapt to the direction life is taking you. Wanda and Nat watched from the sidelines, nodding in approval as you let yourself be swept away by the moment.

Just as you were starting to feel a little dizzy from the drinks and the dancing, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see a face that made your heart skip a beat. He was handsome in the most boring, traditional way… at first. His tall stature and toned figure towered over you in a way that made you feel small, but his eyes provided a sort of balm over the rest, endearing you to open up to him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice barely audible over the music. "I've been wanting to talk to you ever since you walked in here with your friends. Can we go somewhere quieter?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves as he led you away from the crowd and into a quieter corner of the club.

“I’m Erik.”

“I’m-”

“Oh I know exactly who you are. My father talks about the Avengers a lot,” he laughed, mirth spreading across his handsome features. “You guys saved him from a number of mishaps.”

“Your father?”

“Erik Selvig? I’m Erik Jr.”

“Wait, you’re Dr Selvig’s son?”

“Guilty!” he shrugged. “Hope that doesn’t affect your opinion of me.”

“Are you kidding? Your father’s a genius! I have so much respect for him.

Erik smiled, relieved by your positive reaction to his father's reputation. The two of you continued to chat, finding common ground in your shared admiration for science and the work of the Avengers. You discovered that he was in town for the next few weeks relaying his father’s research to S.H.I.E.L.D.. You found yourself opening up to Erik in a way you hadn't expected. His easy charm and genuine interest in getting to know you made you feel comfortable and put you at ease. You weren’t one for falling for a man so quickly, but for some reason Erik Jr seemed to have cast a spell on you and you were letting it weave its mystic ways around you. And as you talked and laughed and got to know each other better, you realized that maybe Wanda and Nat were right. Maybe all you needed was a different connection to heal your heart and lift your spirits.

As the night wore on, the club started to empty out, leaving just a few stragglers on the dance floor.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Erik asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”

“I’m actually staying in the guest quarters at the compound.”

“Perfect, because my friends seemed to have disappeared on me.” This was in fact a white lie, Wanda and Nat had simply made their way back to the car you'd driven in and texted you to say they would wait until you had a plan.

Erik chuckled, pulling out his car keys, “Well let them know that I'm happy to get you home safe and sound. But I suspect that their vanishing act was probably a very intentional maneuver.”

A smirk crossed your lips, somehow turned on by his intuitiveness. “I'll text them and let them know,” you answered, sliding into the passenger side of his dark BMW. 

The ride home was spent discussing Norse myths and legends, stories you’d both been told or learned as children and how they compared to the things you had learned from Thor. The laughter and banter exchanged was stimulating but had an underlying tone of seduction that was undeniable. Erik’s hand on your knee confirmed his intentions. You couldn't stop thinking about the immediate connection you had felt with him. It was a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time, and it left you eager to see where things could go with Erik.

As Erik pulled up and parked outside the large complex where he was staying, he turned to you, his tongue sliding over his lips and his eyes roaming over you for a moment. “So, Y/N. Do you mind if I walk you home?”

Your name rolled off his tongue beautifully, and that’s when you decided to give in. If you could hear your name leave his lips even one more time tonight, you’d be one happy girl.

“So this is me,” you smiled, suddenly feeling a little shy as you stopped outside your bedroom door.

“Wow, looks so… normal.” Erik joked, trying to get past the obvious tension you felt.

“Would you like to come inside?” You bit your lip, looking up at the handsome, giant Norwegian. 

Erik’s eyes lit up at the invitation, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I would love to,” he replied, his voice low and husky.

You led him inside, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves as you opened the door to your room. It was a simple space, decorated with a few personal touches that reflected your personality. Erik looked around, taking in the details with interest.

“This is nice,” he commented, his gaze lingering on you. “Very cozy.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Thanks. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home.” 

Erik stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

The world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the moment, the connection between you and Erik growing stronger with each passing second. It was as if you had found something you didn't even know you were looking for, a spark that ignited a fire within you.

Erik broke this kiss with a reluctant sigh. “Look, I have a confession to make.”

Your heart sank, everything seemed too good to be true.

“I want to be honest with you before we go any further.”

“Go ahead.”

“I'm not going to be in New York for long. I travel a lot and I'm not looking for a long term relationship.”

You contemplated the proposition. For a moment you heard Bucky's voice in your head, calling you a slut. But Nat's voice was there to play devil's advocate on your behalf. ‘Girl, be as slutty as you like. Your happiness doesn’t depend on one person. Do this for you and your own pleasure, no one gets to judge you for it!’

You were your own judge, and your verdict was simple; have sex with the gorgeous man in front of you.

* 

Little did you realize that your return home was witnessed by your best friend. Bucky was a little perturbed to see you enter your room with this handsome stranger. He stood in a shadowy corner, watching as you and Erik, laughed and talked. Bucky couldn't help but feel consumed by envy. As you closed the door, he strode back to his room, slamming his own door shut, almost as though additional physical barriers might block out the mental image of the two of you from his mind.

Unfortunately, the physical barriers did nothing to mute his hearing.

“Where do you want me?” He heard your sweet voice.

“Sitting on my face sounds like a good start.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Spread your legs and show me what’s mine.”

Bucky couldn’t believe the sounds coming from your room. They were unmistakable, as they cut through him like a knife. He felt his heart shattering into a million pieces, unable to bear the thought of you being with someone else. As the night wore on, Bucky paced back and forth, struggling to sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of you and Erik. He couldn't shake his feeling of betrayal, images of you invading his mind, filling him with an ache in his chest that grew greater with every passing moment until he thought he would explode.

How could you do this to him? How could you be so careless with his feelings?

But as he listened to the sounds of your passion through the thin walls, a different emotion began to bubble up inside him. Jealousy turned to longing, and longing turned to desire. He couldn't deny the fact that hearing you with another man stirred something deep within him.

Bucky knew he had to confront you about what he had heard. He couldn't keep his feelings bottled up any longer. He knocked on your door, his heart pounding in his chest. When you opened the door, a look of surprise crossed your face.

"Bucky, what are you doing here?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"I heard you," he said simply, his eyes searching yours for some kind of explanation.

You looked down, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "I...I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean for you to hear that."

He took a step closer to you, his gaze intense. "Do you have feelings for him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. But before you could say anything, Bucky took matters into his own hands. He leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hands tangling in your hair.

With a gasp, Bucky sat up in his bed, taking short shaky breaths as he tried to drag his consciousness away from dreamland. As soon as his heart stopped pounding in his ears, he listened for other sounds around him, but there was only silence. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling until sunrise filled the room.

*

The next morning, you emerged from your room, a smile on your face as you said goodbye to Erik. Bucky lurked in the shadows as you walked with him to the main doors. The scowl that graced his features was worthy of the Chitauri race. If looks could kill, Erik would have dropped dead on the spot.

Natasha, always one step ahead, hissed in Bucky’s ear. «Даже не думай.» (“Don’t even think about it?”) He felt the sharp pain of her pinching the skin on the back of his neck.

Bucky was taken aback. «Чё за хрень, Романов?» (“What the hell, Romanoff?”)

«Я знаю что у тебя на уме,» (“I know what you’re thinking,”) she whispered, her tone sharp.

«Что?» (“What?”) Bucky asked, confused.

«Не испорть это для неё.» ("Don't ruin this for her.”) She was gone as surreptitiously as she had arrived.

Natasha’s words echoed in Bucky’s mind as he watched you and Erik exchange a lingering goodbye. He felt a surge of anger and jealousy, but he knew he had no right to feel that way. You were free to do as you pleased, and he had no claim over you. Bucky was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice you walking back towards him.

“Hey, Buck. Are you ok?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. He seemed dazed and you suddenly felt worried that he had seen you with Erik. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide things from him, but a small part of you didn’t want to permanently close the door on the possibility of something more. 

Bucky forced a smile, masking his true emotions. “I’m fine, just tired. Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, but you could see through his facade, the pain in his eyes mirrored the pain you had felt when he had told you about Priya.

“Who was that guy?” Bucky asked, throwing caution to the wind. Curiosity eating him from the inside out.

“Umm, that’s Erik. He’s Dr Selvig’s son.” You could sense the tension between you two, and it made your heart ache. You wondered what he was thinking, but you didn’t want Bucky to think you were trying to hide anything from him. So you found yourself blurting out every tidbit of information. “I met him last night.”

Bucky nodded, uncomfortably.

“Well, I’d better go… get started on those reports I’ve been putting off. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah sure.” Bucky returned your wave with a half hearted one of his down. As you walked away, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. He knew he shouldn’t be upset, but seeing you with someone else made everything worse. He knew he needed to come to terms with the fact that you were moving on with your life, he just wished he could find a way to do the same. Despite being with Priya, his thoughts always came back to you.

*

It was a festive dinner with the team as they gathered to bid farewell to Erik, who was leaving New York the next day. You had enjoyed three uninterrupted weeks of Earth shattering sex and you were sad to see him leave. He was attentive and intuitive and certainly knew how to show you a good time. But Erik seemed to form an immediate connection with anyone he met and if there wasn't an expiry date on your relationship, you would worry about the depth of your connection. But as things stood, you were having a good time and didn't have time to wallow in Buckya and Priya’s relationship. 

Thor had been invited to join Erik's farewell fête as a gift to the guest, and the evening started off with a lively atmosphere. Erik and Thor were having a whale of a time, sharing stories and laughing loudly, while the rest of the team tried to keep up with their energy.

However, on the other end of the table, Bucky was sulking, his mood visibly dark. Steve, sitting next to him, tried to comfort him, but Bucky seemed lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest ever since Erik had arrived.

As the night went on, Bucky found himself in the kitchen with Erik, who had come out to grab a drink. Erik looked at Bucky and said, "You don't seem to like me very much."

Bucky, taken aback by the directness of the statement, replied, "I don't know you well enough to like you."

Erik raised an eyebrow and continued, “For someone who doesn't know me enough to like me, you sure were staring at me a lot during dinner. Or... were you staring at Y/N?”

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise at the mention of your name. He felt a wave of embarrassment at the realization that his feelings for you had not gone unnoticed. He cleared his throat and muttered, “Her name’s Cricket.”

Erik smiled knowingly and said, "If you like her, just tell her. Life's too short for regrets."

Bucky just glowered at him, unable to form a coherent response. He knew Erik was right, but the fear of rejection held him back.

As the night came to an end and the team dispersed, having bid Erik his goodbyes, you were left alone with the tall blonde.

“I guess this is it,” you said softly, breaking the heavy silence that hung between you.

"I guess it is," Erik said, looking at you with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Yeah, time to say goodbye," you replied, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"I just want to thank you for the last three weeks. It's been... amazing," Erik said, his voice trailing off slightly.

You smiled, feeling a mix of emotions. "Thank you too, Erik. I had a really great time with you."

There was a moment of silence as you both stood there, unsure of what to say next.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye then,” Erik said, reaching out to give you a hug.

You hugged him back, feeling a sense of finality in the embrace. He pressed one last kiss against your lips before releasing you.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He gave you one last smile before turning and walking away.

“Bye Erik,” you said softly.

As you watched him go, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of loneliness. Deep down, you knew it was time to move on, and as you walked back towards your room, you felt a sense of closure and gratitude for the time you had shared with Erik. He had stopped you wallowing in ‘what ifs’ and ‘might have beens’. You had been left with a sense of hope for the future, that maybe there was the potential for you to find a connection with someone special.

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[silhouetteonpaper]

Vengeance

Summary: You decide to take matters into your own hands and get revenge on the person you despise most. But what happens when you keep it a secret from the entire team? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,585 Warnings: Mentions of killing, running away

VENGEANCE

The entire team is on edge, each Avenger crowding around whatever device they have on hand in Tony’s lab. Frantically typing, tapping, calling, or watching—you’ve been missing for the past hour and no one has any clue where you could be.

It’s unlike you to step foot out of the compound without letting anyone know, whether it’s a quick text in advance or by word of mouth. But this time Natasha knows something is up, there’s a reason you didn’t let anyone know you were leaving.

The only evidence that led the team to worry is the singular missing quinjet from the landing pad. Tony attempted to track it earlier, but all communication with the vessel had been cut. Now, desperate for answers, they venture to use whatever resources possible to figure out where you could have gone.

“It’s a blank trail. Wherever she’s going, she made sure no one would know.” Tony voices, scrolling through maps of different flight radar. A part of him feels guilty for even teaching you how use stealth mode on the jet. Natasha’s expression furrows as she scans security camera footage for any other signs, inhaling sharply each time the grainy deleted footage appears.

“C’mon Nat. We’ll keep an eye out, but until then I think we all need to get some rest.” Steve states as he places a comforting hand on Natasha’s shoulder. She’s reluctant to listen, but eventually complies as the entire team heads to settle down for the night.

The last thing Natasha’s able to do is sleep, she lies in bed trying to shake her worries about you. You seemed fine just the other day, maybe slightly quieter, but on the outside no one could have suspected you were planning anything.

Usually, you’re someone who is eager to please others in work and in life. Always a smiling face as you complete a mission or hang out with the team. Natasha feels lucky to have you around, but now she worries that something she did caused this.

In the past, you had shared your grief over the live you lived before coming to the compound. In an attempt to console you, she helped you look on the bright side as you began training. But now, replaying all those interactions again, she wonders if it was enough.

Her thoughts begin to spiral, the blame she places on herself growing as the redhead concludes she caused you to leave. These flowing thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone.

Natasha sits up, seeing a call appear on her phone from an unknown number. At this hour, she was confused why anyone would be calling, let alone a contactless ID. Hesitantly picking up the phone, she hits the answer button.

“Hello?” She says into the dead air. Silence. Natasha’s brows cave inward in confusion.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not so sure.” Your familiar voice fills Natasha’s ears, making her sigh with relief. You’re alive, and hopefully safe. She clearly wants nothing more than to bring you back to the compound.

“Where are you? I can come pick you up right now.” The redhead asks, hoping her urgency doesn’t scare you away.

“No, Nat. I…” You trail off. You can’t reveal what you’re doing at the risk of the Avengers trying to stop you. For months you’ve been planning this mission, and you knew no one on the team would support this endeavor. So, during the time spent planning you were careful not to reveal what you were up to.

But why risk your safety over a mission? The answer is simple, a crystal clear priority in your mind. For years, an agent who killed your mother has roamed free. Leaving you with nothing but a desperate search of support, the Avengers took you under their wing. But the anger building inside you had not subsided regardless of time passing.

It’s unfair to even consider the idea her killer gets to live on, with no consequences for his actions. Sure, the team had promised to take care of him when the right time arrived, but those empty words were starting to make you even more impatient. Everyone had thought you were over the idea of getting vengeance, multiple years passing without a word.

But today, you hide away in a secret bunker waiting for the man to show his face, a slight unsettling feeling finding its way into your chest. You had hoped calling Natasha would help chase away the unusual feeling inside, so far just hearing her voice calms your nerves. You take a deep breath, the phone staying silent on the other end as Natasha prays you’ll give her any details on your whereabouts.

“I need to do this,” You state, shaking away the doubts inside. Justice has to be served, even if it’s morally wrong. But what would mother say? The thoughts circulate your mind, the simple task now seeming more difficult than before.

“Do what. I need you to tell me what you’re doing.” Natasha breathes, the tension rising between her concerned state and your spared details. You know she’s worried about you, that the entire team probably is. But you also value executing this mission a lot more than their feelings. Is that harsh? Possibly, but everyone knows how much you value family.

“I think there’s a chance you already know.” You respond. It’s almost too difficult to say the words yourself: I’m killing him. If Nat thought hard enough, maybe she could recall the times you talked about getting your revenge all those years ago.

A sharp inhale informs you that she figured it out on the other end. “Please don’t do this, please come home.” She pleads through the phone. You can practically picture her worried expression, and the usual protectiveness it often came with.

“You know I can’t do that, Natasha.” Your response brings silence across the call once more, the redhead taking a moment to process. Will she still attempt to stop you? Will she plea for your return again and again?

“We all have monsters in the closet, but you can’t risk your life over trying to get rid of them,” Nat suddenly starts, “You can’t ever make them go away completely.”

Maybe her words have some truth to them, because a pang of guilt in your chest now rises into your watering eyes. “I can try, I have to try!” You remark, your tone growing defensive with anger. Nat killed most of her enemies, she doesn’t understand. You feel betrayed that she’s sitting here telling you what to do while contradicting her own actions.

“Killing him won’t bring your mother back.” Natasha states firmly. You choke on your tears, covering your sobs with your free hand. You won’t let her hear you like this. You won’t let her know she’s right. “Come home, please.” Her words force their way into the swirling grief inside your mind.

Overwhelmed, and now regretting your call, you hang up without another word. Natasha is left in the dark, unable to call you back due to the unknown number leaving no trace. It’s just how you want it, yet something feels wrong about the entire situation.

Nat is right. You never thought you would say that, but it’s true. Killing him won’t bring your mother back, and if anything she wouldn’t support that endeavor either. It’s time to make a decision, one that will change the course of your life either way.

Do you kill the responsible agent and loose trust with the only people you can call family, or do you go back to the compound and feel unaccomplished? Neither sounds appealing, but if you want to leave the dusty bunker you have to make a choice.

The answer that fills you with the least dread was the one that still involves the only family you have. You know that the right path is the one that leads you back to the place you call home. So, you prepare to head back to the compound empty handed. You pack up your things, taking the same route on the jet back to the large white building on the water while your motivation to make a change for the better grows.

Unaware you’d be returning, the landing pad out front is empty as the sleek black quinjet touches down. It doesn’t take long for pattering footsteps to replace the sound of the cooling engine, the entire team now running outside at the sight. The person at the head of the group is none other than Natasha, a sad smile covering her face.

“You were right, killing him won’t bring my mom back.” You admit as you step off the jet, walking up to the redhead. She nods once, putting both her arms on your shoulders before enveloping you into a hug.

She takes a deep breath, relieved to have you back in her arms. “Even if you can’t see how proud your mother is, know how incredibly proud I am.” She voices. It hits you that you didn’t even realize in all your time planning that you didn’t need to prove anything to your mother. You didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. The real love that you so desperately wanted was in front of you this entire time, you just happened to be looking in the wrong place. And thankfully, Natasha would always be here to help you find your way back.

[jadeoru]

SMUDGED LIPSTICK

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[natashaslesbian]

Nats daughter is going on her first mission and it doesn't go well. She's hurt and lost somewhere until Nat finds her and brings her back home

Send Out An Army

Word Count: 1.4K

————

Natasha was beside herself with worry. Her one and only baby girl off on her first solo mission. You’d been arguing with her for weeks, trying to convince her you were ready. It was only natural that she was worried but you had gone through the academy training just like everyone else. Natasha finally agreed to let you go when she sat in on your training session with Steve and you managed to knock him on his ass three times. You left a few hours ago and so far Nat had tried training, reading and even resorted to doing her paperwork to keep her distracted. She was in her office now, trying her best to keep her eyes off the clock.

It was quiet in Natasha’s office, so the sound of her mobile ringing took her by surprise. An unknown number appeared on the screen so Nat was skeptical about answering. She brought the phone up to her ear whispering a hello and listening to the crackle coming from the other end. “Hello?” Natasha asked again, being met with the same silence. She was about to hang up when a small voice called through “mama?” It whispered. “Y/n?” Natasha said, pulling the phone back up to her ear “baby are you okay?” She asked with a panicked voice. “Hurts mommy” you mumbled “what hurts baby? What’s happened where are you?” Natasha frantically asked as she made her way to find Tony and the rest of the team. “Lost” you coughed through the phone.

Natasha came bounding down the stairs where she met Clint and Steve in the kitchen. “Natasha?” Clint said, seeing the fear in his best friends eyes. “Y/n baby talk to me, where are you? What hurts?” The redhead said as she dragged the boys down the hall with her. “I don’t know mama” you cried as Natasha switched her phone to loud speaker “baby have you activated your tracker?” Your mom asked as Clint filled Tony in best he could of the situation. “Lost it. I’m scared mommy” you mumbled. “It’s alright sweetie we’re gonna find you I promise” Natasha cooed down the phone. “Stark where is she?” Steve asked as he joined Tony at the computers. “I’m not sure, somewhere in Bulgaria” he said. “How can you not know where?” Steve said frantically “it’s not standard procedure only Fury knows the exact location” Tony said, trying his best to hack into S.H.I.E.L.Ds files as quickly as possible. “Then call Fury!” Clint shouted.

You began coughing loudly over the phone “mommy” you cried. “It’s okay baby girl take some deep breaths for me alright we’re gonna find you” Natasha said as calmly as she could. Tony continued to scan the files as Steve headed off to gather the rest of the team and prepare the quinjet. “Mm tired” you said through the phone “y/n I need you to stay awake for me okay sweetheart” Natasha said, fighting back her tears. “Y/n?” She questioned when you failed to answer her “y/b baby talk to me” she pleaded. “Tony find her now!” Clint shouted, taking the phone from Nats hand “y/n its uncle Clint, can you tell me where you are? What’s around you bug?” He asked, pleading for you to respond. The silence was deafening as the three waited desperately for your voice to come back through the phone. “She’s in Yambol!” Tony cheered as he finally cracked your location “okay Steve’s on the jet let’s go” Clint said. “She’s dead I know she is” Natasha cried “hey don’t go there yet, we’re gonna find her” Clint comforted as he guided the redhead to the jet.

~~~~~

It felt like weeks you had been lying in the grass, the sharp pain had long ago turned into a dull ache and you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Your cries fell into the open space and you fought to keep your breath, the warm pool of blood being the only thing keeping away the cold. “Mom” you whined into the empty space, pleading for your mother to come and find you. You held on for as long as you could until your eyes finally fluttered closed. In your last consciousness your ears began to ring, sounding like a small crunch of leaves along the ground. Your mind started playing tricks on you, the sound of your mom calling echoing through your head.

Your shoulders began to shake and a soft hand against your cheek pulled you back into reality. “Y/n come on open your eyes baby” a familiar voice called. “Mommy?” You mumbled as you pealed open your eyes “I’m here sweetie, mamas got you” Natasha cooed as she lent over you protectively. “You found me” you smiled up at your mom “yeah we did baby” Nat said as she gently stroked your hair “we?” You sleepily asked. “Hey kid” Clint said as he came to your side and began tending to the open wound on your abdomen “we’re gonna get you home alright” he said. You groaned as your uncle pressed down on your injury, quietly crying out in pain. “Shhh sweet girl it’s ok, you’re okay now” Natasha comforted you “thought I was gonna die mama” you weakly said.

Natasha lent her body down beside yours to give you a tight hug, avoiding your wound “oh my baby I’m so sorry” she said. “I should never have let you come this is all my fault” your mom cried. You slowly reached up your hand to wipe away your mamas tears “no mommy” you whispered “you saved me” Natasha took your hand in hers and gently kissed it. You cried out again as Clint pressed down on your abdomen “sorry kiddo” he empathised “so tired” you groaned, eyelids fluttering closed “no no come on sweetie keep your eyes open for us ok” Natasha pleaded “you’re gonna be alright baby we’re gonna get you home” your mom cooed. You tried to keep your eyes open but being back in your mamas arms you couldn’t help but bask in her comfort. Before long you lost the battle, falling into unconsciousness. “we need to get her to the jet” Clint said to Natasha.

~~~~~

You felt a gentle scratch along your scalp as you began to wake up, unsure of where you were and almost who you were, until you opened your eyes. “Hey baby girl” Natasha said as she rose to her feet by your side. Her red hair was messy with loose pieces falling by her face, the bags under her eyes were a give away as to how long you had been out. “Mommy” you croaked out “you look tired” you said. Natasha let out a small laugh as a stray tear fell from her eye “oh y/n, I’m okay I promise, you’re the one who needs looking after right now” she said “we look after each other mama” you smiled, attempting to sit up but stopping as a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, reminding you off why you were in the infirmary. You sighed loudly as Natasha softly took a hold of you “easy baby, just lie back ok” she said as she helped you to lay back down “you get some rest ok, we’ll talk later when you’re properly awake” your mom said as she placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a few hours later when you woke up again, your mom still sitting by your side. “There’s my girl” Natasha said “look who’s here to see you” she said as she pointed to the man on the other side of your bed. “Uncle Clint” you smiled “thanks…for what you did” you said sadly “hey none of that” Clint said as he saw your eyes well up “don’t you dare go blaming yourself kiddo, missions go wrong, whatever happened wasn’t your fault” he said. “It was” you cried “what did happen sweetie?” Your mom asked. “The brief said the facility was abandoned, but when I got there it was crawling with agents” you began, your mom placed a comforting hand over your own. “I set off the alarm trying to get in through the back door, I tried to get away and I thought I’d managed but when I stopped in the woods an agent came up behind me. I didn’t think he had any weapons so I fought him without mine but he pulled out a knife. I fell down when he cut me and I thought he was gonna kill me but they called him back to the facility” you sobbed.

Natasha felt the anger rise in her chest “the brief was wrong?” She asked “imma kill Fury” she said, answering her own question. “Mommy don’t go” you called after her as she headed for the door. “I’ll go, you stay here” Clint said as he guided Natasha back over to your bed “you’re not as scary as me” she giggled as she sat back down with you “no” Clint said “but the least I can do is warn Fury of angry mama Nat” he said as he pulled the door closed. Your mom turned her full attention back to you as she sat next to you on the bed “I’m here baby girl” she cooed “it wasn’t your fault ok” she said as she brushed your hair away from your face. You dropped your gaze, still feeling guilty despite what Natasha said. “Hey” your mom said as she lifted up your chin “I am so proud of you” she said “why? I failed” you whimpered. “I’m not talking about the mission, I’m proud of you y/n” Natasha said, leaving a soft kiss on your hairline.

“How did you find me?” You sleepily asked “Tony hacked into S.H.I.E.L.Ds data base” Natasha said. “He did?” You questioned “yeah he did” Nat answered “everyone was so worried “I’ve never seen Bruce move so fast” your mom giggled. You let out a small laugh at the thought. “I didn’t think they’d all come” you said “I knew you’d find me mama but I didn’t think everyone else would come to get me” you mumbled, almost falling asleep again. “They’re your family baby, of course they’d come” your mom cooed “you know they care about you right?” Natasha asked “I know” you smiled up at her “you’ve got a whole army of love and protection behind you y/n, don’t ever forget that” Nat said as she tucked you up in your baby blanket, she made sure you had it the second the team brought you to the medical bay. “Rest up okay baby” your mom cooed. “Can you read to me mommy? Please?” You asked with half closed eyes. “You never have to ask twice sweetie” Natasha said as she pulled your book from her bag, another essential she’d grabbed along with your blanket. Her soft voice lulled you into a comfortable and deep sleep. The deepness with which she spoke her words causing a gentle hum throughout the room. Your mom continued to read long after you had fallen asleep, comforting both you and herself.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[unholyhelbig]

oversight request if ur down! what if nat’s enemies captured ronnie? how would nat get her back? (i love seeing this darker side of nat… she’s hot asf when she’s mad 🥵) thx !!

Title: We Have Your Daughter [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When Veronica is taken from a friends house in the middle of the night, it's clear that reader and Natasha will stop at nothing to get her back and get revenge.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Gun use, kidnapping, use of gags & zipties, broken glass, threating statements, knife use, strangling, and horrible grammar.

[a/n: This one wasn't my favorite thing I've ever done, but I was way too far to scrap it. I might take a small break from Oversight oneshots so I can clense my pallet a bit!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The phone buzzed against the mahogany table on Natasha’s side of the bed. You were in a haze of sleep, something so cloying that it was hard to distinguish what the noise was. There were four monotone vibrations and then a silence so thick that you nearly drifted back into unconsciousness. But then, it started again, louder this time, it seemed, as the phone fell from the nightstand and to the carpeted floor.

An alien blue light filled the room and you groaned softly against the side of Natasha’s neck. You’d ended up laying fully on top of her; legs tangled. Your hands were under her, holding her as close as possible. The rhythm of her heart picked up when she stirred from her own sleep.

She blinked a few times before reaching blindly to the carpeted floor and retrieving the phone. It had stopped ringing again, but soon amped back up. The number was unknown, which formed a small marble of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Natasha sat up carefully and you shifted to the side to give her more mobility. Both of you shared a frowned look of confusion. It was three in the morning, and a stranger was calling. That was enough to arise panic in anyone, but with your profession, it seemed to echo further than most.

“Romanoff,” Her frown deepened, then. You couldn’t hear much, just the warbled and panicked voice of another. “Wait, slow down.”

She flipped back the duvet and stood up, flicking on the bedside lamp. You winced at the sudden brightness but tracked her frantic movements all the same. She was pacing. It often helped Natasha think. All trace of sleep had left you both.

“No, no. We’ll be right there. Thank you.”

When Natasha hung up and her eyes met yours, any hope of a peaceful existence had been sucked from the room. The words ‘I’m sorry’ seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. But she didn’t’ say it. Instead, she threw the cell phone on the end of the bed and moved her hands through her messy russet locks.

“Natasha,” you said, almost viciously. “What happened?”

“That was Luke. Someone broke into the house. We should… get dressed. We need to get dressed and get over there.”

Her words were broken, causing you to rise despite the wave of nausea that overtook you. Unsteady on your feet, you closed the distance between and grasped onto her shoulders as if to stabilize you both. Natasha’s eyes threatened to boil over with tears, they were red-rimmed and oh, so broken.

At thirteen years old, you both had deemed Ronnie mature enough to start having sleepovers with the other kids in her class. Of course, you’d meet with the parents first, and give them all the emergency contact information. Never tightening the reigns there.

But the Jones family were trusted more than most. Ronnie and their daughter Dani had been close since diapers. You’d spent days by the pool together and even took a family vacation with them to Niagara Falls this past summer, despite how ‘lame’ Jessica’s son deemed it when they dawned the yellow plastic ponchos.

“Is she hurt? I know we told Luke and Jess to call us first if something like this happens but if she’s hurt we really should get over there right away and get to the hospital. Call an ambulance maybe? God, please tell me she’s not hurt.”

Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek, and she peered into your eyes. There was sadness behind her stare that was incomprehensible. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from rushing at you in all different directions. Her touch quieted the noise, if not for a moment.

“She’s not hurt,” Natasha frowned, backtracked. “I don’t know if she’s hurt. She’s just… gone.”

The man said his name was Grant. He didn’t give a last name, and Veronica did not ask for one. Grant would do just fine. He looked like a Grant; his eyes were beady and black, his hair combed in various directions with a generous amount of gel. He was trying to look effortless and cool.

Veronica thought he looked like he was trying too hard. Of course, she didn’t say that, but the fact remained the same. The gag that had been nestled tightly against her mouth tasted stale, like the way a thrift store smelled. Maybe it was the carpet in the trunk of the car that lodged itself into her lungs.

She was calm and collected; prepared for something like this. As much as her mothers had poked and prodded and huffed and puffed when she suggested she start to learn basic things (like how to get out of zipties, or what to do if you were trapped in the trunk of a car), they had yielded.

Really, her aunt Lena had Yielded. While she still was discouraged from the heavy-hitting stuff, she did know how to break free of most contained spaces. She could also throw a mean punch if she put her entire body weight into it. But she had been sleeping when Grant shattered the window, and groggy when he hit her temple with the blunt end of his pistol.

The selfish part of Veronica knew that her mothers were scared right now, and reveled in it, for only a brief moment. She’d let out a grunt from being jostled when the car hit a particularly bad speedbump. Her teeth bite down harder on the gag, releasing a sordid taste that did not settle her stomach.

Even at the age of six, which Veronica remembers in bits and pieces, she knew that something wasn’t right with her mother. It wasn’t wrong, either, but it put her on edge and kept her voice trapped in her chest like a music box without a key.

You’d come home smelling metallic, sometimes like the salt of the earth itself. It was much less palatable than the sweet coffee that often graced your collar. She used to inhale the familiarity of it, but had stopped when you’d begin to get bruises and deep red gashes against your skin.

It was something that you’d try to hide from her, from Aunt Darcy, but in the deepest moments of your sleep, the fabric of your shirt would lift and expose the camouflage markings on your ribs or the crack of flesh on your back that Veronica was certain hadn’t been there before.

Then there was Mama.

Natasha. Natalia. Romanoff.

She’d heard every variation of the title. The name was spoken with a certain type of urgency in some, fondness from you, and fear from most. It wasn’t until Veronica was eight and paid more attention to those around her that she realized Natasha was the source of the un-well scent on you.

“Your moms whack people,” Dani had told her one day as they played up in her room. Veronica was meant to stay the night but there had been a heated and insignificant argument about who got to marry Malibu Barbie.

She’d whined back, “They do not,”

“They do too! I heard the other mommies at the playground talking about it. They whack people and it makes everyone else afraid of them and you.”

“You’re lying!”

Veronica had felt the tears prickling at her eyes. Not because Dani’s words were too much, they were just the right amount of hurt. Deep down, Veronica knew that something was fucked up about her family. And while they tried to shield her, it never stopped people from talking.

She would get looks from the parents of her schoolmates. Once that reeked of worry, and sometimes pity. It fed her anger, stoked the coal fire that burned within her. She shouldn’t be angry at her moms, she knew it was unfair. But as she clenched the barbie in her little fist, anger was the only thing she could truly feel.

“They don’t hit people!”

“That’s not what whacked means, dummy.” Dani seemed to catch her bearings, lower her voice to keep her own mother from hearing the accusations. “People that are near your family are never seen again. That’s what Cassie’s mom said. People that are near your family die.”

How could that be true? Things were so different here. There were different smells and Dani’s family didn’t eat around the table like hers did. The house was smaller and cozier. There were pictures on the wall that were black and white and worn with age. But there was love here, just like there was love in Veronica’s house.

A house with love couldn’t be a house where her mothers… whacked people.

Natasha held her with so much warmth at night. She read her two stories if Veronica asked and would get her a glass of water in the middle of the night. Sometimes, on the way home from school, they’d stop for ice cream even though you had cautioned against it.

Someone who let her get extra chocolate sprinkles was not a killer.

But the thought lodged itself in Veronica’s head and refused to leave. She was unnaturally quiet on the ride home, having called you to pick her up early from the wall phone. She held back tears and pressed the plastic close to her face until it was numb.

Natasha had cooked steak and mashed potatoes. Usually, it was Veronica’s favorite, but she watched as the pink runoff seeped into the white mush and quelled the nausea in her stomach by taking little sips of water.

She pretended not to notice the wary look her mothers gave each other, but it was impossible to ignore the way you cleared your throat, palming the wine glass to give your hands something to do. “Baby, is something bothering you?”

The dam broke. Veronica hated when you took that tone with her because it made her cry each time, made all of the hidden emotions bubble up until her cheeks were red and she was a sniveling mess.

This time, she blinked them back and looked between both you and Natasha. She clenched her fork in her little hand and drew in a breath. These were big emotions for such a small girl and she didn’t quite know how to swallow them.

“Why is everyone afraid of you?”

Your hand tightened on the glass you were holding, just loose enough to save it from shattering. Natasha had been mid-chew, her stare moving frantically to you before she swallowed and used her napkin to wipe the edge of her mouth.

“Sweetheart, did someone tell you that?”

Veronica seemed to tremble, shrinking into herself. She had gotten so verbal over these last few years, and this was a side that you refused to let her fall back into. You set the glass down and reached across the table. You covered her hand with yours, despite her refusal to unfurl it. It helped to ground her, had since she was little.

“Dani said that people are scared of you, and that they die around you. I called her a liar, a dirty liar, but she kept telling me it was true.” She looked up with tears in her eyes. “That’s not true, right?”

The silence seemed to answer her question, but she stared at both of you. She wanted to hear it. She wanted you to look under the bed and slay all of the monsters that were intent on grabbing her ankles and pulling her down. Natasha looked down at her plate, almost shy. You gave her hand a squeeze.

“Baby, it’s complicated.” You started, her wild eyes moving to yours. You felt her grow tense. “Your Mama and I, we want to be honest with you no matter what. This family is complicated, but that will never change how much we love you.”

They’d abandoned the food and spent most of the night explaining what they could. She was still only eight years old, and they held back from her. Each year of her life, they revealed more, eased her into it. And if she asked a question, they never, ever, lied. They answered truthfully- even if it wasn’t an answer she didn’t’ want to hear.

Veronica’s muscles had become stiff. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been shoved inside of the trunk, but light was leaking through the edges. She’d drifted in and out of sleep, her legs burning. She wanted to break free of her binds and stretch them out. Grant tied a good knot.

It was no matter, she thought, because her mothers wouldn’t let her linger for long.

Glass and blood sprayed across the back patio. Someone had clearly wrapped their hand and shattered it with sheer force. They’d cut themselves at one point or another, but it didn’t’ seem to stop them from muscling their way into the Jones’s home.

Luke, in his hulking nature, reached into the highest cabinet and got his daughter a glass of water. She hadn’t touched the muffin that was set in front of her. Luke was nesting, trying to ply her with gifts to ease the horror of what had just happened.

You felt bad, having to dredge it up when the memory was still so fresh. She had the deer-in-headlights stare. Wide eyes flicked to you and Natasha. She opened her mouth and closed it in succession twice. She looked like a fish.

It wasn’t that you hated Dani, you didn’t. She was thirteen-year-old child, after all. But, you were admittedly wary about her after she had brought Veronica’s walls down when they were younger. Kids, you reminded yourself. They were innocent, but they were also mean when they wanted to be.

“I already told you, “She said, frowning down at her untouched muffin. “We were both asleep when we heard a loud crash. It didn’t wake up mom and dad. I wanted to call the cops, but Ronnie was against it. Why haven’t we called the cops?”

The silence in the room was palpable. You were studying the edges of the glass, the dried dark blood against the edges. It was better for you to focus on that, than the fact that Veronica wasn’t here. You would spiral, then. You’d think about all the places she could be, and none of them were particularly good.

“Fine. There was a man with a gun in the kitchen and he… aimed it at us. Ronnie wasn’t scared. I don’t know how, the look in his eye was determined. Horrifying. He said that he wasn’t going to hurt us, he just needed her and then he would leave.”

“And she just went?” Natasha urged; her voice strained with exhaustion.

“Yeah, yes. I didn’t try hard to stop her, he had a gun. A gun!”

“Okay, alright. Thank you, Dani.” Luke placed his hand on the small of her back. She crumbled into him, dwarfed by his sheer size. Jessica glared at her own reflection in the mirror above the sink. She had been deathly quiet.

Suddenly, Dani looked so tiny in his arms, hugging her close. Your heart seized and you frowned at the broken glass at your feet. Natasha willed herself to continue. “Dani, I’m incredibly sorry about this. About all of this; but we need to know what he looked like.”

“I don’t know, he was tall and had these blue eyes that were just unsettling. He was sort-of good looking.”

Jessica seemed to find herself at that moment, working her hand through her hair. It was damp and unkempt with sweat. “You both need to leave.”

“Jess,” Luke interjected.

“You need to leave!” She raised her voice, turning to face the group. She kept her palms on the counter to steady herself, refusing to look at Natasha, but clocking you with a deathly stare. “We’ve ignored so much. We’ve watched Veronica when the two of you leave on your business trips, and come back looking like you’ve been raised from the dead. We pretend not to notice the guns you carry even at the fucking beach! But this is not something we can ignore. Y/n, this is my home.”

Her chest was heaving with rage but there was immense sadness in her eyes. Dani’s fingers clenched at the fabric of her father’s shirt. Natasha’s hands were in her back pockets, her red-rimmed stare trained on the ground.

“I understand. Thank you for everything. We’ll uh, get someone to come by and fix the patio door. I apologize for all of the trouble.”

Natasha moved to follow you, her hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t realized you were trembling until her firm touch was there to quell it. Her words were said with a gentle authority. “I made a few calls. A patrol call will be positioned across the street for the next week. Longer, if you’d like. I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Dani stood from the barstool. “There’s one more thing. The man, he had on this gaudy jacket and there was a patch on the pocket. It was red and there was a skull with these tentacles coming out of it. Totally villain coded.”

You frowned, diverting your stare to the small bug light at the corner of the door. It emitted a small buzzing sound that was barely noticeable. If you stared at it long enough, the tears that threatened to spill over would eventually go away.

“I hope you find her.”

Dani had said in a quiet voice. And you hoped beyond hope that you did too.

There was ugly green tile in the bathroom. Veronica had counted them twice over, and then to check her blurry math, she multiplied the length and the height until the numbers matched. She was bored and cramped in the off-white bathtub of a shitty motel.

For the first half-hour, she had her eyes on the water-stained ceiling. There was an abnormally large roach that crawled in circles. It had the whole ceiling, why did it confine itself to one spot? She’d made up a story; the brown little bug was training for a race. He was following the imaginary track.

He’d win, she decided, tugging softly on her binds. Even if though the horsefly can move up to 90 miles per hour. They’d learned that in class and it was one of those facts that she just couldn’t seem to forget.

Veronica could hear Grant on the other side of the wall. He had made an exasperated phone call and threw it down on the bed. He’d been oddly gentle and patient with her when he removed her from the trunk and subsequently locked her in the bathroom.

After living with a family of deadly criminals for the better part of her life, Veronica toyed with the idea that she was being held for ransom. Her mama, she didn’t hesitate when it came to stuff like this. Veronica had asked her once if that was easier.

They’d been jogging along a small path that cut through the woods around the property. Natasha was used to doing stuff like that alone, pacing herself and breathing in the crisp scents that nature had to offer.

It had shocked her when Ronnie asked to join, but she was quick to agree. She’d slowed to a brisk walk when the girl started to fight for air. Natasha may have pushed a little hard, but she was content to walk with her daughter, all the same.

The question had caught her off guard. “Ronnie, I don’t think your mother would appreciate me answering this.”

“You’re my mom too.” She stopped by a particularly large rock, placing both hands behind her head to stretch her chest out enough to ease her breathing. “Unless you’re afraid of her.”

“You’re baiting me.”

Veronica gave her a wolfish smile. Of course, Natasha wasn’t afraid of you. She wasn’t. You would sometimes get a deep look in your eyes that made her squirm in her seat. It was the mom look- the type of look that you seemed to inherit from the moment you first hold a baby against your chest. The need to protect was deep seeded.

Natasha felt it too, especially with the girl that goaded her right now. But she knew when not to push, and when to gently suggest something to you. Right now was a terse moment that blurred the line between something you’d be okay with, and something you’d initiate the silent treatment for. She sighed.

“Sometimes, there is more to suffering than the pain that’s inflicted. Does that make sense?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Waiting for the end is more tortuous than the act of ending itself. What I mean is, putting someone out of their misery is not only a mercy in some situations, but a necessary evil. I’m not a monster, Ronnie.”

She believed her in that moment. Natasha wasn’t a monster. Not to her. She could see how some of her charges would think differently, but this was the woman who would curl up in fuzzy pajamas and watch shitty romantic comedies with her, even shedding a few tears when the lead got the girl.

Veronica let out a long sigh and slumped further down into the bathtub. An uncomfortable and sluggish hit of pain moved through her legs and to the base of her back. First the trunk, and now this.

Her body stiffened when she heard the giggle of the door handle. Heels dug into old porcelain as she pushed herself up. Parts of Veronica’s stance was numbed entirely. Her shoulders were tight with tension, and a fine layer of dust was kicked up.

Grant clenched his jaw and unclenched it at the sight of her. He’d left her to her own devices for far too long. She watched carefully as he unscrewed the cap of a water bottle. The seal cracked and she relished in the sound, praying that it hadn’t been tampered with.

He knelt down against the side of the tub, pulling her gag from her mouth. She drew in a desperate and clear breath, clocking him with a glare. Sickeningly, he smiled at that. “You must be thirsty.”

She didn’t’ dignify him with an answer but allowed him to guide the water bottle to her lips. She gulped down more than half in a hungry fashion. Spare drops soaked into her collar and drip against her jaw. He pulled away and recapped it.

“I want you to know this isn’t personal. I’m not big on the whole ‘kidnap kids’ thing. I have a son of my own, and I wouldn’t ever want something to happen to him.” He paused and resituated himself into a more comfortable position. “This is business. I do what I’m told.”

Grant was trying to relate to her, make her feel some sort of sympathy for him. She wasn’t going to fall into his tactics. Instead, she glowered at him. “I hope he has a good mom. Because when mine find you, he’s going to need one.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m counting on it.”

This time, you had made sure that the gun was fully loaded. You were all for showmanship, leaning into the nickname that those who roamed the streets had given you. Even those who didn’t, a woman at the laundromat or the waitress that had replaced you at the diner all knew you as Roulette.

Once upon a time, you couldn’t push past the shadow that Bucky Barnes had created. He was the Winter Soldier, Natasha’s immoveable force of nature. She’d command him with a solid hand and anyone on the other side of that wrath was doomed.

It was a reputation that was impossible to live up to, yet somehow, you had done it. Not only could you kill with such ruthless abandon, but you had found a family along the way. Bucky would never question Natasha’s orders. But the two of you made them together, and that brought a new type of fear.

When Leo Fitz had moved for the weapon tucked into the back of his neatly pressed pants, you made sure to move with a quickness that rivaled anyone else in the room. The tip of your revolver was pressed to his temple, his gloved hands raising in surrender.

Ophelia Sarkissian smiled. Blood dripped across her teeth from where Natasha had connected her fist with bone. She was slammed up against the back wall of her office now. Her mantle shook with the force of the hit, and dust rained down from the ceiling.

“That’s the problem with old buildings,” she said, a mix of sticky saliva and russet discharge. “The aesthetics are there, but you sacrifice the integrity of the room. Don’t you agree, Nat?”

“I’m not here to discuss architecture.”

Natasha reached into her own pocket, not releasing her hold on the leader of Hydra. The little organization of evil had gotten admittedly bigger than either of you thought was possible. They’d gotten more men, more property. But they were resigned to Hells Kitchen and that was simply not under Natasha’s jurisdiction. She never found it in herself to care, not until now.

Knives were Yelena’s weapon of choice, but Natasha still found joy in the subtle bout of fear that flashed momentarily across Ophelia’s serpent stare. Leo attempted to move, but stilled when you pulled the metal hammer back on the revolver. All you had to do was pull the trigger and there’d be a new mural in Ophelia’s office.

“Natasha, would you mind calling your dog off? Doctor Fitz is a brilliant scientist. It’s not any old brain she’s fixing to blow out.”

The side of the silver blade had found its way to the edge of Ophelia’s eye, not quite touching it, but she knew that the slightest movement would spear her iris. She stopped squirming under Natasha’s threats.

“Okay, okay! What is it that I can do for you lovely ladies?”

“What is it you can do for us?” Natasha’s voice was a thick and hollow growl. Any sign of mercy had escaped her, one hand clenching the woman’s throat, the other pressing the tip of the knife hard enough to break porcelain skin. “Sweetness, I think you know exactly what we want.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Natty. I have my fingers in a lot of cookie jars.”

“If you’re inclined to keep your right eye intact, I suggest that you lead us to our daughter. I have no trouble taking a woman’s sight.”

Ophelia laughed and it infuriated you. Rage and impatience made a dangerous cocktail. You had tolerated the woman and her lackies through dinner parties and the occasional get together. But that was the extent of your relationship.

Seven full years and she still viewed you as nothing more than Natasha’s pet waiting to be house trained. You’d long since left your probationary period. You’d married the woman who had an iron grip on the city and in turn, raised a competent daughter in your stead.

“I have no godly idea what you’re talking about. You think I’m stupid enough to steal from you? I wouldn’t take a wine glass, much less your daughter. I have some common sense. What led you to believe that I would?”

You hated to admit that you believed her, but you still refused to remove the gun from Fitz’s temple. “The symbol on the jacket of the man who took her. It was your insipid mass of tentacles.”

Fitz cleared his throat “Ma’am, it could be Ward.”

“Ward?” Natasha asked.

“I fired him months ago. He’s mostly harmless but would do anything to get into my good graces. I suppose it would be possible for him to pull a stunt like this. Last I heard, he was living at the Motel six off county.” Ophelia gritted her teeth “It’d be greatly appreciated if you both left before you do something you regret.”

Natasha mocked a pout, dragging the tip of the blade against the side of Ophelia’s face. A trail of pin-prink spots of blood rushed to the surface of her skin. “But you’d look so good with an eyepatch.”

Veronica had drifted into an incredibly fitful sleep. She could hear the world around her; the skittering legs of the bug that ran laps on the ceiling, the slow and steady drip of the sinks faucet, the football game that Grant had turned on to drown out her movements.

It was the unmistakable sound of woods splintering that had caught her attention. Ronnie forced herself to control her breathing, just like you had taught her. She clenched down on the sour tasting gag in her mouth, heart pounding violently in her chest.

The television had been turned off and Grant’s muffled voice seeped through the crack in the door. She knew that her mother’s preferred to work silently. They tried to shield her from everything and everyone that held a potential threat. But there were some things that Veronica wanted to see. Including the downfall of her captor.

She made a small noise against the back of her gag and slammed her heel on the puke-colored tub. The dull thumb was enough to halt the movement in the room. There was shattered glass, and an exclamation that could have only been from Natasha.

Grant had locked the bathroom door from the inside and closed it. There was a strong hit that rattled the weak wood. Her breathing picked up as another hit caused the door to bend like it wasn’t a solid force at all, but entirely breakable.

Finally, it gave way and you stumbled into the bathroom in a cloud of slivers and dust. None of that seemed to bother you, eyes darting directly to the tub that your daughter had been housed in for the last six hours.

Veronica was reduced to a bubbling mess of tears. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to see you, needed to see you. There was something so warm and safe about your touch and it cut through the cold bathroom air like nothing she had ever felt before.

“Oh baby,”

Your voice cracked as you dropped to your knees, making quick work of the gag. Veronica’s jaw ached when you removed it, tossing the cloth aside. You used the very knife that Natasha had used to threaten Ophelia with to cut the zip ties that had cut dark purple bruises into her wrists.

“Oh, my baby, I’m so sorry.”

She gripped you with a strength that reminded you of the first day you’d dropped her off at kindergarten. She’d cried then too, wetting the collar of your shirt with nervous tears. Veronica had clung to you and wicked her fingers into its fabric. It broke your heart to let her go then.

You’d had a meltdown in the driver’s seat of your car with all the other parents that had emotional attachment issues. It was where you met Jessica for the first time. She’d dropped Dani off. Her second child so it was easier this time. She brought you a beer and told you that everything would be okay.

“Mom,” she whispered, over and over again, gripping you to make sure you were real. She was much too old to carry, but you didn’t give a damn in this moment. You scooped her up like she was six years old again and she wrapped her legs around your waist without any protest.

You tucked her head into the small of your neck. “Keep your eyes closed, baby girl. You’re safe now.”

Veronica clenched her eyes shut and dug further into you. She tried to ignore the noises she heard in the single-bed motel room. The choking sounds that Grant let out as Natasha did what she did best with the electrical cord of a lamp.

She kept her eyes shut in the freezing stairwell, and even when the warm mist of an early-morning dew coated his skin. She waited until she could smell the familiar leather of her mother’s car, and even then, she held you in a vice grip that you weren’t willing to let go of anytime soon.

You’d taken your jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. She curled into herself in the backseat of the car. It only took a few more minutes for Natasha to exit through the same service door that you did. Her hair was disheveled, a long gash against the side of her arm that you were certain would need stitches later.

Black blood dripped from the wound and pooled from her fingertips in small splashes against the pavement. She didn’t’ seem to notice, her adrenaline screaming loud enough to quell any pain she would have felt.

Natasha gently urged you to the side before she climbed into the backseat wordlessly. Ronnie seemed to let out a long breath of relief. She launched herself into the woman’s arms. Natasha grunted at the force but squeezed her as tightly as she could, letting her cry.

“Mama, I’m so sorry.” Veronica sniffed “I shouldn’t have gone with him, but he was going to hurt Dani.”

“Do not apologize moy malen'kiy strelok.” She pressed a kiss to Veronica’s temple, fighting back tears. “Never apologize.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[natspookie]

hold me

natasha x fem!reader

☆ summary : natasha goes out to a friendly dinner with reader’s ex and natasha should have listened (happy ending dw babes)

☆ warning : cheatingggg, drama/angst, not proofread, and traumatic past relationship

“nat please don’t go out with her” you kneeled down with a frown on your shares bed as natasha attached her earrings, looking at you through the mirror.

“dekta it’s just one dinner, i asked if you wanted to come” natasha cocked her head to the side

“nattie, she’s manipulative and wants to get a reaction out of me” you cringe at the memory of your ex-girlfriend, the same woman natasha would be meeting at dinner tonight with another shield agent.

“i will be careful, and you know i only love you right?” she kneeled as well on the bed, kissing you on the forehead once, on the nose, and in the lips.

“be home as soon as you can?” you sighed, looking into her eyes. “i promise” she gripped your hands, as you both always do. “i love you nattie” “i love you too dekta”

the last 2 hours have been full of worrying for natasha. you’ve cleaned the apartment twice when you received a notification on your phone. you leaped across the couch hoping it as natasha asking you to pick her up. your heart dropped when you reached an unknown number messaging you.

you clicked on the photo to see your girlfriend and ex girlfriend kissing. you knew better than to believe this was the whole story. she was your natasha, the same natasha who loves you. you threw the phone across the couch and buried your head in your hands, anxiously bouncing your knee waiting for natasha.

when the door unlocked you didn’t move an inch. “y/n? i- i should have listened to you” natasha rushed in front of you as your eyes were closed. “she kissed me and i pulled away as fast as i could. i-i’m really sorry dekta, i should’ve just stayed at home with you and watched that old show you love” you opened your eyes to see natasha with tear stained cheeks.

you reached your hand out to brush her tears away “do you love me natasha?” you couldn’t help but ask “of course, y/n. you are my life, you are everything to me and i can’t do this without you, please forgive me” she held your hands tightly

“i love you nat, can you just hold me?” you asked quietly. natasha ripped her heels off and carried you to your room and you squealed.

natasha cleaned up as quickly as she could, making sure to scrub her mouth as much as she could before cuddling you tightly. natasha gave sloppy kisses all over your face, muttering ‘i love you’s every time. “you and me forever”

natasha held you close that night, afraid you would leave her. you knew better than to do that. natasha was clinging onto your side for a few weeks till she got called go a mission.

she left multiple letters around the house that didn’t fail to make you smile.

there were ups and downs, but you wouldn’t mind sharing them with natasha.

[huffelpuff210]

His Obsession

His Obsession 

Chapter 1

:Jordan didn’t exactly know what she was getting into when she accidentally bumped into Bucky Barnes aka The king of New York the boss of the Mafia 

Warning:Stalking, kidnapping, Forced relationship, Forced Marriage, NonCon.

You were running down the street bumping into people every now and again. 

“Excuse me. Sorry.” You say as you continue to run

You were running late. You are a RN in the Emergency room. Working sometimes double even triple shifts. Not really having a personal life, Always working and if you weren’t working you were home sleeping. 

You turn the corner only to be knocked off you’re feet, about to fall on you’re ass. 

But you were quickly caught by the wrist and quickly pulled to you’re feet. 

“Sorry about that.” You hear 

You look up and see a man in a black suit. Rings on his left hand. Tattoo on the top of his left hand and it loos like it goes up his arm the way it disappears from the sleeves of his suit. 

He had dark hair that was almost shoulder length and icy blue eyes. 

“Oh no I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You say as you smile at him. 

You’re watch beeps. 

“Oh sugar plumbs I’m late! Sorry I have to go thank you for saving me from a nasty fall.” You say as you run down the street. 

Bucky watches as you disappear in the crowd of people A smirk on his face. He didn’t think there was anyone in this city that could smile at him like that. Most people take one look at him and shiver in fear. It did something to him, You’re long dark hair and Jade green eyes that reminded him of freshly cut grass, 

He didn’t fail to notice You’re name tag, Jordan Cross He smirked 

“I’ll be seeing you real soon doll.” He smirked 

He pulls out his phone hitting the contact number. 

“Natasha I need you to find an address for me.Jordan Cross She works at Mercy Hospital” He says 

“Okay, Text it to me when you find it.” He says hanging up the phone

He smirked knowing that he just found the one person that wasn’t aware of who he was or the profession he was in. 

It didn’t take long to locate you’re apartment, And it didn’t take much effort to get the key from the manager, All he had to do was give him a look. Which was very concerning. As he looked around you’re house he noticed there wasn’t much. No picture’s on the walls. The fridge and cabinets were empty. A TV and love seat in the main room, A a queen size bed in the bedroom. 

“Seems pretty basic.” Steve says as they look around

“But no personality to it.” Nat says 

“Start hiding the cameras.” Bucky says everyone nods 

You were dead tired after working a double shift. All you wanted to do was shower and sleep screw eating it was way too much work. 

You unlock you’re door shuffling to the bathroom stripping you’re scrubs off and jumping in the shower for a much needed shower. 

After you’re quick shower you dress into a pair of plaid black and white shorts and you’re old collage jersey. Flopping on the bed without covering up you just fall into a deep sleep. But unknown to you, Bucky stood over you, His knuckles brushing against you’re cheek. 

“Soon doll. Soon You’ll be mine.” He whispers with a small smile on his face.

The next day you were running late again, Rushing out the door, and running down the streets to the hospital, You always end up shutting you’re alarm off to get a little extra sleep, You’re boss doesn’t ever give you a day off or ever cut you any slack when you are late he retaliates by making you work a double shift, He’s a complete tool in you’re eyes anyway, Bucky watched as you ran past the many people on the side walk bumping into a few on the way. He smiled knowing he was going to bide his time to set his plan into motion, He had been waiting to find someone like you for a very long time and He knew that you were a hard working woman who barley had a social or private life because of you’re job. From what he dug up on you you’re mother died when you were only five years old leaving you to be raised by you’re step father. In and out of the hospital a lot with mysterious injuries broken arm, cracked ribs, broken tail bone, the list went on and on it’s no mystery what was going on, You left for collage at the age of eighteen, graduating not long after. went for you’re clinical at the same hospital you currently work at now. Never had a vacation or personal day. This was a bit concerning for Bucky you didn’t have a life, all you did was work and sleep, hell you barley had any food in you’re apartment. He knew tonight he was going to take you away from this life, that you were going to have a better life with him and his men. You wouldn’t have to work hard just to get by anymore he was going to make sure of that if it was the last thing he did. He smiled and walked towards you’re apartment. 

He made himself comfortable sitting in you’re love seat in the main room and waited 

You sighed grabbing you’re purse and walking out of the hospital Eric you’re boss made you work a triple shift you were exhausted, You have a bruise on you’re bicep from him grabbing you when he called you to his office when you were late today. He said one more time and you are fired. What does he expect you work double sometimes triple shifts then he expects you to come in the same day after only a few hours of sleep. 

You unlock you’re apartment door, closing it behind you setting you’re purse on the counter. When a hand covers you’re mouth. 

“You’re late doll.” You hear from behind you. 

You try to struggle but the intruder was too strong you feel a prick in you’re neck and you can feel yourself getting weak and tired 

“Don’t worry doll you’ll be home soon.” Was the last thing you hear before falling into a deep slumber.

[newwritergirl]

Starting over | Part 17

Masterlist

Summary: The evening with Bob und Javy at the Hard Deck is destroyed by a Welsh. But unfortunately it's just the beginning of the cruel man's plan.

Trigger Warnings: 18+!, Minors DNI!, past abusive relationhip, throwing up, previous assault, language, angst

Word Count: 2k +

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter, but I wanted to post it before going deeper into the angst and drama.

With a worried look Pete turns around and makes his way over to Bob and Coyote. He doesn't let some prick destroy the whole progress the young woman made since she lives in Miramar, only because of the loose tongue of that Welsh guy.

"Bob, Coyote. A word." Maverick interrupts the men's conversation rather impolite but he needs to get this off his chest before y/n comes back to their table.

"Captain? Take a seat. What's wrong?" Javy was the first one to speak after the surprising arrival of their Captain.

"I just interrupted Welsh while he had a - conversation with y/n. She looked very uncomfortable. Just, please have an eye on her, I'm not trusting this guy, as you know." Welsh's reason for his assignment on their base is classified but everyone knows by now that something must've happened at his old base. Even with the details unknown for all of them except for Bradshaw and in parts for Seresin, they all assume that Welsh's transfer has to do something with his behavior towards women. With Nat he already bit on granite, with her strong and confident attitude he soon learned that he should shut up in front of the female fighter pilot. But with the shy It-specialist it's a completely different story.

Both pilots share a look before giving their Captain the affirmative to look out for their female friend and to put Welsh under their observation as well.

---

The cold water making contact with her hands helps a bit to stop the tremble she still has in her hands. In no case she is able to continue the evening at the Hard Deck with Bob and Javy. The nausea is still lingering in the back of her throat. The cruel nightmare, the daunting messages from that unknown number and now the repeated encounter with Welsh left her feeling worse every minute she stays longer in the packed bar. She just hopes that her two friends wouldn't be mad or disappointed when she is going to announce that she wants to go home.

With a ghostly pale face and cautious steps, always looking out afraid to once again stumble into Welsh, she makes her way over to the table where Bob and Javy still sitting and waiting patiently for their drinks.

"Hey, there she is." Bob immediately sees that something is wrong with the young woman. Her nearly ashen face gives him a reason to worry even more. He immediately stands up to offer y/n his chair so that she doesn't have to round the table to take a seat. But she touches his arm in a soft grasp as to steady herself.

"Hey, I'm sorry guys, but I call it a night. I'm really tired. Gonna call an Uber and…" She doesn't get to finish her sentence before Javy also stands up grabbing his jacket and looking at her.

"Bob and I just thought the same. Let's go home, sunshine." He wraps his arm around her shoulder in a protective manner, he already noticed her being a bit unsteady.

---

Y/n knows that some wounds never truly heal, especially the deep ones her ex inflicted on her soul. When Welsh grabbed her at the Hard Deck she felt herself catapulted into the life she once lived and she asks herself why she seems to be a magnet for men like that. Under normal circumstances she would seek comfort in her two boyfriends. They're the exact opposite of Welsh and her ex. They're protective, lovely and never had the intention to make her feel small or less worthy. How she misses them, especially now. A sob is bubbling out of her mouth and echoing in the master bathroom where she's currently kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up everything which is left in her system. She still feels the piercing gaze of Welsh looking dangerously deep into her eyes, his strong and rough grip on her arms, she still hears his words. 'I knew you have a thing for pilots' is playing in her head in that scary tone he said those words. Does he know about their relationship? She knows that their secret relationship would probably not be a secret forever, but she doesn't want that disgusting man to spread rumors at base. She doesn't want Jake and Bradley's careers to be in jeopardy. Another painful gag bubbles out of her throat, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks when she hears her phone chirping in the otherwise silent house.

---

Utterly exhausted she stands up from her position on the bathroom floor she is certain that there's nothing left to bring up. On shaky legs she makes her way over to the sink, her pale face is reflected in the mirror when she sees another sticky note from her boyfriends.

You're the most beautiful woman that we've ever seen.

We love you. JB

Y/n doesn't know how long she looked at the Bradley and Jake's message but another trill of her mobile brings her out of her thoughts. Her heart is beating painfully in her chest afraid of another scary message of an unknown number. When she finally finds her mobile in the living room area where she abandoned it after coming home she's not sure if she is brave enough to open the two unread messages.

A sigh of relief escapes the young woman's mouth.

Bobby: Hey y/n, just wanted to ask if you're doing okay. You didn't look too good when we left the Hard Deck.

Bobby: Y/n, I'm worried. Please text me when you're awake.

Y/n: Hey Bobby. Sorry I was already asleep. I'm good, just tired. Thanks for checking in. I hope you and Javy are not mad for calling it a night so early.

Bobby: No way! We're not mad :-) Please call me, if you need something. Gonna check in with you over the weekend. Sleep well, sunshine.

Y/n: Thanks Bobby! Have a good night!

---

The bar is finally emptying, the last few patrons are finishing their drinks and the buzzing chatter is slowly quieting down. Pete Mitchell sits at his usual spot at the bar where he usually watches his girlfriend Penny preparing to close the Hard Deck. But today he is deep in thought frowning and playing with the label of his beer bottle.

A warm hand stops him from shredding the paper label further.

"Hey, stop making a mess on my bar, I already cleaned it an hour ago." Penny smiled at the pilot in front of her. "What's wrong with you, the last time I saw you frowning like that you thought about how to scare Amelia's boyfriend away."

Pete looks up from the mess he made unconsciously. "Something like that… I'm worried about y/n."

Penny looks at her boyfriend puzzled. "Y/n? What's wrong with the poor girl?"

"You know my dear, some things are classified, but for you I will make an exception." Pete says while grabbing the smaller hand of his girlfriend planting a kiss on the back of her hand.

"With Rooster and Hangman gone… I think she has a hard time. I mean, not because she's alone, but… I caught some sleazy guy harassing her earlier -"

"HARASSING? HER? In my bar? Pete Mitchell, where's this scumbag? You should've told me, I would've kicked his ass out of MY BAR." Penny nearly shouts. Her bar is a safe haven for the Navy and for other people who earn and give respect to other human beings. There's absolutely no room for scum, especially not for men harassing women.

"Slow down tiger. It's not that easy. I will kick him out…out of base and out of town. But I need to form a plan, I need the Admiral in my corner. Well, he also hates this guy, but we need to play it by the books." Welsh is a red flag, that fact is clear since he and the Admiral read his file. But until now they don't have enough in their hands to kick him out of base and out of the Navy for good. But Pete is sure that it will happen in the near future and until then they need to have a close eye on this guy.

"It's someone from the base? Don't tell me it's this new guy… I'm going to kill him." The younger woman wrings the rag in her hand as if she's imagining Welsh's neck.

"Penny, my love. This is absolutely confidential."

---

The rest of the weekend was a blur for y/n. To get through it she found herself in some kind of cleaning madness, not that the house was dirty beforehand, but until Sunday evening she has cleaned some places of their cozy home more than three times just to exhaust herself out enough to sleep for some hours.

Now, fortunately in the middle of the week she sits outside on the base sipping the hot beverage Bob brought her minutes ago and enjoying the crisp air and the morning rays of sun on her face she's miles away with her thoughts. She's relieved that she hasn't seen Welsh the whole week and that she could distract herself with a huge load of work. She helped the Admiral with another computer problem and started on programming new software for the Daggers which should help them with teaching and training the recruits.

"Hello y/n…"

The young woman flinches as she hears the familiar voice. She was lucky enough to not cross path with the nasty aviator the last three days. But today, she's not that lucky. He sits down beside her, too close for her own liking which makes her shrinking into herself even more.

"No greeting, today? I thought you were well-bred. Seems like Michael was still too soft with you." He chuckles.

The moment y/n hears the name of her ex, that man that inflicted so much pain on her, that man who nearly killed her and scarred her soul in so many ways, she feels panic bubbling in her chest. How does Welsh know her ex' name? How does he even have the balls to confront her with her past? With a loud thud her coffee cup falls to the floor, splintering in thousand pieces swimming in the still hot brown liquid. She feels her chest tightening and breathing gets more difficult every second. She jumps up from her seat beside the cruel aviator, feeling his bigger hand squeezing her forearm to prevent her from fleeing. But y/n is able to wiggle herself free and starts to sprint toward the office building. She doesn't notice where she is running, completely trapped in the panic and shock which is swirling in her brain.

---

Some hours before:

Daniel can't believe his luck when the lock finally opens with a click. It's dark outside when he arrived at the base this morning. He didn't want to risk to be seen when he breaks into the Admiral's office. Is it a bit too much to break into the Admiral's office? Probably. Is it too damn risky to steal some information? Hell, yeah. But he needs some more information about this young and sexy IT-specialist and with her two guard dogs gone it's the best time to start his little blackmail show. With the right information about her it will be easier to intimidate this slut further.

"No way…" He talks to himself in a hushed voice when he starts to read y/n's file which is securely stored in the Admiral's office. She had a bad ex-boyfriend who assaulted her? Perfect, this is just perfect. She was a little bruised obedient girl and he will get her there once again. She is just the perfect woman for him. Hopefully his plan is going to bloom before these morons are back from their deployment. But he's in cheerful spirits now that he knows all the little sad details of y/n's past. And he will launch his offensive today. The stupid girl is already afraid and nervous in his presence and this is the best point of departure to go from there. Soon she will be his little toy and her aviator boyfriends are forgotten. She needs a man with a strong hand and not these two sissies. This slut needs him and he knew the first time he laid his eyes on her that she will be his.

@djs8891

@darksparklesficrecs

@nerdgirljen

@abaker74

@crazyunsexycool

@itsarabellebabes

[delicatebarness]

bring him home | chapter five

Summary: After almost two years, you find yourself back in Wakanda.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Mentions of Grief and Loss. Violence. Mental Health Themes. Emotional Distress.

Word Count: 1700

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-Fi

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: My heart breaks itself. I swear. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Bring Him Home: @vampirethingz | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love | @esposadomd | @motylekrozi | @erica2024 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @mostlymarvelgirl | @ordelixx |

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

Six months had passed since the support groups had been established and continued to flourish, they provided solace and strength to make who had been lost in their grief. Every meeting you attended, and every story shared was a step toward healing. Not just for them, but for you as well.

The more you share with the other victims, the more you feel a pull– a need to return to the place where so much had changed. Wakanda. With trepidation and determination, you boarded a Quinjet, the familiar hum of its engines filled the air as it took off. For the first time since the Snap, you flew back to find peace for yourself.

Arriving in Wakand, you were greeted with warmth by the Dora Milaje and the people who remembered you and Bucky, as well as the Avengers’ sacrifices. Okoyoe herself welcomed you, her presence a comforting reminder of the strength and resilience of the Wakandan people. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Okoyoe said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Wakanda has missed you.” 

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Thank you, Okoyoe. It’s good to be back.” 

Walking through the vibrant streets of Wakanda, memories of your time on the run flooded your mind. The scars of Thanos’ attack were still visible, yet the landscape had recovered. Your destination, however, was a secluded hut on the outskirts of the city, the place where Bucky found solace and freedom before he disappeared. 

Standing untouched, the hut was a silent testament to Bucky’s time there. Creaking softly, you pushed the door open, stepping inside. Dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight as the air stayed still. After almost two years, you could almost feel his presence again– as if he had just stepped out and would return any moment. 

You took in every detail as you moved carefully through the small space. His belongings were still there– a few worn journals, a simple wooden carving of a wolf, and Polaroid photos. You ran your fingers over the carving, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as a sense of connection and longing overwhelmed you. 

As night fell, you sat by a window, glancing out at the Wakandan landscape. Looking up, the stars above you were bright, a reminder of the vastness of the universe and the small place you held within it. 

You reached for one of Bucky’s leather-bound journals, feeling a pull toward its familiar texture. As you read his raw emotions and thoughts, the events he recounted stirred a deep sense of recognition within you. 

Washington D.C. 2014

-

A buzzing on your nightstand jolted you from your restless sleep. Groggily, you reached for it, squinting at the unknown number flashing on the screen. Rolling your eyes, you answered with a tired voice. “Hello?” 

“It’s me,” Natasha’s familiar voice, came through low and urgent. 

“Nat?” you sat up, immediately more alert. “Why are you using an unknown number?” 

“No time to explain,” she said, her tone clipped. “I need you in Washington, like yesterday.” 

Sighing, you rubbed your temples. “I can’t, Nat. I–” 

“This isn’t optional,” she interrupted, her voice hardening. “This is serious.” 

“What’s going on?” you asked, trying to gauge the gravity of the situation. 

“It’s him,” she said, her words heavy with implication. 

Your heart skipped a beat. The mere thought of The Winter Soldier brought back a flood of memories– painful, complicated memories. Pushing aside your initial reluctance, you took a deep breath. 

“Alright,” you said, your voice steady as you rose from your bed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

The feeling of unease couldn’t be shaken as you flew to Washington, anxiety and anticipation blurred your mind. The Winter Soldier was a lingering shadow that shaped your life, he was more than a ghost from your past. 

Natasha’s eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced vigilance as she waited in a small cafe. Before ushering you to a secluded corner, she pulled you into a brief, tight hug. 

“Glad you made it,” she said.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” you replied, your eyes scanning the small cafe. “Where is he?” Natasha proceeded, giving you a brief rundown of the situation and what they were dealing with. 

~

Within a couple of hours, Steve and Natasha introduced you to Sam Wilson. They assured you that he could be trusted, but you couldn’t help but feel skeptical. The plan was to abduct Jasper Sitwell, with Sam handling the talking and you on standby ready to fire if necessary. 

“And why would I do that?” Jasper Sitwell’s voice crackled through your comms. As if on cue, you readied your gun, aiming its red laser at the man.

“Because that tie looks really expensive, and I’d hate to mess it up.” Sam retorted, Sitwell glanced down, spotting the small red dot on his tie. 

~

From a vantage point, you watched in disbelief in the car behind. It was true; he was here. Soldat landed on the roof of the car carrying Natasha, Steve, Sam, and Sitwell. He yanked Sitwell out through the window with brutal efficiency, hurling him into oncoming traffic. 

You tried to shoot while driving, struggling to maintain control as you watched him open fire on your sister and friends. Suddenly, someone slammed the brakes, causing Soldat to drop onto the road.

Chaos ensured. Colliding with their car, another vehicle pushed them dangerously closer to the assassin. Soldat leaped back on top, smashing through the windshield and ripping out the steering wheel before jumping onto the following vehicle. 

As the car door broke off, you saw Steve clinging to Natasha and Sam as they began to slide across the highway. Soldat and the HYDRA agents unleashed a hail of bullets at them.

You stopped your car along with the rest of the panicked traffic, getting out and ducking for cover. When you were clear, you scattered along with the trio, running off in different directions. At first, he was shooting at Natasha but she managed to shoot him in his eye goggle mask and run off. 

And that was when he noticed you. 

For a moment, the two of you locked eyes, and the chaos around you seemed to fade. His piercing gaze held you, and you could have sworn there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. A brief, split second where the ruthless assassin appeared to hesitate. In that heartbeat, you saw the man he used to be, the one buried deep.

Suddenly, he fired his weapon. You closed your eyes for a moment, it seemed like the shot was aimed at you, but it whizzed past, striking Natasha in the shoulder just as she was making her way toward you. She cried out and fell to the ground. 

“Nat!” you shouted, rushing to her side. Soldat closed in behind you, ready to fire again. Anger boiled within you as you sprang to your feet, delivering a swift powerful kick that sent him staggering back. 

“Remember me!” you yelled, trying to break through the haze of his conditioning. “It’s me, remember!” 

He didn’t respond, lunging at you with a cold and unyielding expression. Swinging his metal arm in a powerful arc. You ducked and the force of the blow whistled past your ear. Countering with a quick jab to his ribs, he barely flinched and retaliated with a series of rapid punches that you struggled to deflect.

“You know me,” you pleased between strikes, desperation edging into your voice. “You taught me, all of this.” 

He hesitated for the briefest moment, confusion flickering in his eyes. Yet, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Driving his knee into your stomach, he knocked the wind out of you and sent you sprawling to the ground. Gasping for breath, you rolled aside, avoid his follow-up stomp. 

Scrambling to your feet, you launched yourself at him with determination. He roared in frustration, grabbing you by the throat. The cold metal grip tightened, cutting off your air and lifting you off the ground. Your hands clawed at his arm in a desperate attempt to free yourself, your legs trying to kick out. 

“Soldat, please!” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Before he could react, Steve burst onto the scene. With a powerful kick, he knocked Soldat away from you and sent him sprawling to the ground. As they fought, Steve managed to catch Soldat’s metal arm mid-swing and twisted, using his own momentum to throw him across the debris-strewn street. Soldat crashed to the ground, his mask dislodging in the process, revealing the face Steve less expected to see. 

Freezing, he lowered his shield. He started at the man who had once been his closest friend. Recognition dawned in Steve’s eyes, shock, sadness, and determination mixed. 

“Bucky…?” Steve asked in confusion, his voice both filled with disbelief and hope. 

-

Tears welled in your eyes as you relived a pivotal moment through Bucky’s perspective. As you read through the pages, you traced the lines. His words painted a picture of internal struggle, grappling with memories and emotions buried deep within his fractured mind. It was then you realized that Bucky had indeed recognized you that day. Guilt and anguish coursing through him from his actions. 

Outside, the Wakandan night settled. Closing the journal, you held it close to your chest. You allied yourself to grieve for the lost time, but also cherish the gratitude that even in the worst of times, he was still, always in there.

With a steady breath, you set the journal aside and took in the stillness of the hut. A mixture of leather, wood, and a hint of something indefinable that was distinctly him– the air was imbued with a faint scent that was uniquely Bucky. It enveloped you like a comforting embrace, soothing the rough edges of your heartache. 

Untouched since that morning, the bed still held his essence. You lay down, allowing yourself to sink into the familiar scent, bringing you peace and belonging. It was the first time that sleep came easily. The weight of grief and relentless striving for closure seemed to lift as you closed your eyes. 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.27

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat’s been more than exhausted these past few weeks as she drafts up argument after argument that she can use against the government to justify why she and her fellow Avengers shouldn't be put on a leash. She knows it’s a long shot and she doesn’t have enough witness accounts or evidence yet but she’s been hearing about the crime rate spike through the rumor mill and she hopes that soon enough she’ll have enough to come back.

She can bring her family back and finally have you. If you’ll still have her after all of this is over. She knows you’d have every right to be mad but she hopes you’ll understand enough to at least let her take you on one date.

The rain pelts outside of her window as it has been for the last three days and she sighs as she lies back on her pull-out bed. If it were under different circumstances she might’ve been able to appreciate the break from the city and the pressure. Maybe she could even come back to these woods with Clint, or Wanda, or…You.

She’s working hard to make sure her family is safe, yes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t working this hard to also see you again. To finally know what it feels like to hold you, to run her fingers through your hair, and hear you laugh again. The thought of you has been the only thing that’s brought her comfort these past few weeks.

Her computer dings with an email and she shoots up immediately, grabbing the shiny object from the side table next to her and pulling it onto her lap. She wasn’t expecting any emails while she was out here and her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: they’d found her location.

The email is from an unknown sender which only makes her more uneasy and she’s more frustrated than anything that she’ll have to find a new place to hide when she recognizes the encrypted link hidden in the email's coding.

It was a website Clint had created just for the two of them to communicate in case there was ever a situation similar to this. She’s afraid to admit just how comforting it was to hear from someone close to her after weeks of no contact. She quickly opens the website and reads the messages.

Clint-

Hey Natty, hope you’re having fun wherever you’ve parked that trailer of yours, Tony’s been a real pain in the butt but we’re trying to negotiate some better terms with some government officials. I know you’re probably working on a solution of your own but I’ve got to at least pretend like I contribute to this group-

She snorts at the self-jab, knowing her fellow Avenger couldn’t care less about the insults people say about him being the least skilled Avenger. She always admired that about him.

Clint-

Anyway, your phone’s been blowing up. I think Tony is getting suspicious so I took it and hid it in my room. I think you’re gonna be in deep shit with your girlfriend when you get back haha. 

I attached the voicemails you’ve been getting, I didn’t listen to them but I saw who they were from. Thought they might be important.  

Nat’s heart pounded as she stared at the attached files, there were at least 30 voicemails from you varying in different lengths and part of her was scared to open them. There was no doubt a few of them were just you yelling at her but even then she’d missed the sound of your voice so much that she’d take your irritation over anything else.

She hesitates over the first voicemail with her cursor but clicks it before she can sike herself out. There’s a little bit of silence and she wonders if you’re going to talk before she hears a small sniffle and her heart breaks. She swore to herself she’d never make you cry and now she’d failed, the sound of your quiet crying echoing throughout her trailer only amplifying her defeat.

It's another thirty seconds before your voice finally breaks through. It’s rough and raw and she can tell you’d probably been crying for a while.

“Nat? Where did you go? Why’d you leave? Listen- we don’t have to meet if you don’t want to. We can keep texting forever just don’t ghost me like this. Please.” It’s short and by how broken your last word sounded she can tell you were probably thrown into another fit of sobs after you ended the message. 

Nat doesn’t know what to do with herself, her body feels frozen and her heart won’t stop sinking further into her stomach. She’s never heard you sound so unsure of yourself before and it tears her apart that she’s the one who made you that way. It takes her a few minutes to muster up the courage to click on another one.

“What kind of person just says ‘I’m sorry?’ I deserve a better explanation than that! You couldn’t have at least lied to me about going to save baby animals in Africa where there’s no cell service? At least then when you stopped responding I could’ve felt better!” She’s not surprised that you’re mad at her, you deserve to be, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her chest when she hears how irked you are.

The next few are similar in the fact that they’re either angry or spoken through tears but they slowly begin transitioning into something else. Eventually, you stop talking about her leaving and start talking about yourself. What you did that day, what you’re making for dinner, the cat you’ve been visiting at the cat cafe. There’s still a hint of sadness in your tone but she can tell the calls are a form of therapy for you. A way for Nat to be there when she’s not really there.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one you’re talking about your day with, wants to cook you dinner while you sit on the counter and visit the cat cafe with you. It hurts that she can’t do that and as she’s listening she feels her eyes burn with tears. She refuses to let them fall. She’s not the one who gets to cry in this scenario and yet her eyes refuse to give up their unshed tears.

There’s one last voicemail from a day ago and she clicks on it expecting it to be like the others but much to her surprise you’re talking about her again.

“I think I’m mad because I can’t even bring myself to hate you for it. I know you’ve probably got some shit going on. I understand that, trust me. But- I don't know you could’ve… maybe it’s too much of me to ask you to fill me in on the situation- or let me know when you’d be back… Is this goodbye?” 

 Your static voice rings out into the silence and Nat hates how you sound. Reserved- almost accepting. Like you’ve convinced yourself she’s never going to respond again and she hates it. She hates that she made you so insecure that you think she isn't spending every hour thinking of you and how to get back to you. 

The sound of your voice fills her with even more determination as she begins redrafting her court argument. She was going to come back to you, you just had to wait for her a little longer.

Pt.28

A/n: Aww Nat :( ~ Starry

---Taglist--

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[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 28

Part 28: Fatal Trespasses

Series Masterlist

Words: 6.7k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence, character death. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint paused to see Belova’s number on his phone, especially since Steve tossed her out. He understood why his boss did it, he just didn’t entirely agree with it. Belova was young, but she had a lot of potential. She was strong and loyal. Clint had no reason not to trust her.

That, more than anything, had him answering the call.

“Belova?”

“I’ve got a location on Banner,” she said.

That got his interest. “Where?”

Belova gave him the address, an apartment over a dive bar on Stark’s turf. He knew the place.

Neal’s words about Belova falling into enemy hands crossed his mind.

“How do I know you’re not walking me into a trap?” he had to ask.

“I may not be working for the Rogers family at the moment,” she said. “But I still serve Mrs. Rogers. She would want me to relay this information.”

“Yeah, she would,” Clint said. Mrs. Rogers trusted her and considering how she’d supported him and Nat, well, that meant something to him.

“There’s more on Banner,” she went on quickly. “It will be sent to you from an unknown number when this call ends. I hope you’ll find it helpful.”

Clint did too. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” she said, ending the call.

Sure enough, the text came through a few seconds later. The attachment didn’t have much to offer about Bruce Banner. But his Senator brother? Clint had to read over it again to make sure he read it correctly. If what he was reading got out, the scandal would ruin the entire Banner family.

How the hell did Belova pull it off?

He and Scott were supposed to carry out their part of the boss’s plan tonight, around midnight. Clint had almost six hours to kill before getting ready for that. Did he trust Belova? Would he find Banner if he went to that address?

Anger for every bruise, every cut on Nat’s body rushed to the surface as he considered the intel he’d just been given. His Nat would need weeks to physically heal from the beating she’d taken at the hands of her husband. The fear she’d experienced in the trap of her marriage would take a lot longer to recover from if she ever did.

Guilt clawed at him from the inside, like an old, wounded beast. He could have put a stop to it. He could have taken her and run. He would have betrayed his loyalty to her brother, his boss. But maybe they’d be somewhere safe right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have terrible nightmares and shadows behind her eyes.

Maybe Steve would have killed them.

No, Clint told her over and over that he loved her. That one day, maybe Steve would change his mind and they could be together as they were always meant to be. And that day finally came. Neither of them dared to ask for more. Steve allowing them to be together was more than they could have hoped for.

But Nat had taken a severe beating to get them to that point. And Steve still wouldn’t have gone to check on her if hadn’t been for his wife’s insistence. Not with everything going on all around them.

He would have given anything to take that beating for Nat.  He’d felt so helpless that day when they found her like that in her husband’s house, broken and small. Yet again, Clint had been forced to contain the rage he hadn’t been allowed to express or act on. It had been one of the hardest things he’d done in his whole damn life. And he’d been recovering from getting shot on top of it.

But now, just maybe Belova had given him something he desperately wanted – a chance at some payback.

Steve? Well, Steve warned Banner that he needed to disappear. That the man only made it as far as Stark territory was surely not what the boss had in mind.

Banner never paid any attention to the soldiers outside his house. He took them for granted. Setting up a diversion for the armed guards staying with Banner was just too easy. Within an hour, Clint had Banner delivered to the old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They often used it for such special occasions.

Slumped in the wooden chair with his hands bound in front of him and a sack over his head, Banner just sat, waiting. Clint would have had him tied to that chair but his arms, shown off by the dirty white t-shirt he wore, showed layers of bruises. They looked as bad as those on the woman he loved.

Clint smiled. It was the least of what the fucker deserved.

When the sack was pulled from his head, Banner’s gaze wildly scanned the room. When he spotted Clint, outrage blended with fear to find himself at the mercy of his wife’s lover.

“What the fuck is this?” Banner asked. His lower lip was cut, a dark ugly scab at its center. One of his eyes was blackened. “Steve and I had a deal.”

“Sure you did,” Clint told him. “You either disappear or you would disappear. But holing up on Stark turf? That’s not really disappearing, is it?”

“And you’re doing this to prove what?” Banner asked, eyeing him warily.

“Got nothing to prove,” Clint told him, taking a step closer.

Banner’s dark eyes hardened in anger. “Don’t you?”

Clint watched the anger that Nat described so many times about darken his face. Banner always seemed so calm, collected whenever Clint observed him during business transactions for the family.

When the two men crossed paths, the anger Clint held in check was always close to the surface. Banner was married to the woman he loved, and the man’s entitlement and contempt made Clint sick inside, like poison. Banner had Steve fooled, painting Nat as pampered but unstable and dramatic. Banner had to know Nat was with him every opportunity they had – and there were precious few times. Bitterness that he could never make Nat love him drove Banner to abuse her, verbally and mentally.

That was bad enough. When Nat learned she was pregnant, Clint came so close to getting her to run away with him. She thought about it. One tearful night, she told him she would. That was the night of the horrible fight Banner had with Nat. The one where Nat was left broken at the foot of the stairs.

She lost the baby. His baby, not Banner’s. That loss haunted her, and she blamed herself. For him, that loss was a wound that never healed, a hole in his heart.

Clint waited, not willing to let the lawyer draw him into a debate. It wasn’t easy.

After a moment, Banner chuckled, shaking his head though Clint could tell the effort physically hurt him.

“Steve’s got his sister back home now,” Banner taunted him. “He’ll even let you take care of her like the good dog you are. But he’s never going to give her to you. Not even now. Not while he can marry her off to benefit the family. You are stupid if you believe that.”

Clint had to give the bastard credit. He always knew the worst thing to hit someone with, how to strike at their deepest fears. He was a fucking lawyer. He’d been doing it to Nat their entire marriage. On nights when Clint was out there in the night, waiting to do Steve’s bidding, he’d reflect on the stories she told him. On the cutting things her husband would say to her.

Clint shrugged. He wasn’t about to play the game.

“Sounds like he already has someone in mind,” Clint lied casually. “Yeah, she needs to heal up. She looks worse than you do. But once she’s on the mend, I imagine Steve will marry her off again.”

The smirk on the other man’s mouth faded. Banner hadn’t expected him to say that.

“What?” was all Banner could say.

Clint folded his arms across his chest, standing over the bastard. “Steve can’t have Nat in his house for long. Not with his own little wife. It’s not an ideal situation. I’m sure you understand.”

Banner’s snort was an ugly sound. “Steve can’t handle his wife. If he knew how to deal with her, we wouldn’t be here, now would we?”

“Sounds like you’re blaming all this on Mrs. Rogers,” Clint pointed out.

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Banner demanded. “Steve doesn’t usually make time to do welfare checks on his sister. He could handle women just like I handled his sister. Until he married her. I showed up at his house and that little bitch met me at the door. I knew it was her that sent him to my house. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.”

“Then you get why Steve can’t let Nat linger.” Clint tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, to sound like he didn’t care.

Banner’s mind looked to be going a mile a minute. Anger flashed in those dark eyes as he studied Clint hard.

“I hope she gets what she deserves,” Banner’s tone took on a hint of bitterness. “Honestly, Nat played you and me both. She didn’t love either one of us… Ungrateful bitch.”

Clint’s fist flew before his mind could override it, striking Banner’s unbruised eye. Banner somehow managed to stay in the chair, a grin on his face when he returned his gaze to his rival.

“I knew you were full of shit,” Banner called him out.

“I’m full of shit?” Clint demanded. “I’m not the one that’s cast out, am I?”

“I served Steve well,” Banner shot back. “He couldn’t have had a better consigliere and he made a mistake. A huge mistake.”

Clint didn’t like the way he said that with a sly grin playing along his split lip.

“Now he’s got another consigliere,” Clint pointed out. “He’ll be fine.”

Banner dropped his head, shaking it in frustration. What was he not saying? That Banner was still bitter about how his marriage ended? That was obvious. But somehow, he didn’t think that Nat was the sole issue here. Why had Banner still stayed close by?

“Something else you wanted to say?” Clint asked meaningfully.

It pissed him off that Banner was now trying to ignore him. It had always pissed him off that Banner considered himself better than Clint. But that was nothing compared to how he’d treated Nat, the woman he knew Clint would die for.

Anger rose as Clint grabbed a fistful of Banner’s hair and yanked his head back sharply, making the man look at him. And Banner did look him in the eye, pure defiance flashing in those cold depths. But he wasn’t saying anything.

With his left fist, he punched Banner in the nose. The second time he felt the cartilage give beneath his knuckles. Blood gushed from the man’s nose, but he stoically kept silent. Clint struck his chin, his injured eye. Banner muffled his cries of pain, fighting to be silent.

The glee Clint expected to feel at such a moment just wasn’t there. Banner wasn’t begging him for mercy. He wasn’t cowering as Clint imagined he would. That meant the fucker had some hope he was hanging onto. He thought about Banner’s senator brother.

“Counting on your brother to save you?” Clint asked, smirking. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

Clint released his hair. Banner held Clint’s gaze. “Yeah?”

The bastard didn’t look concerned. Yet.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “He’s going to go through some things.”

Banner looked only mildly concerned. “Is he?”

Pissed off, Clint leaned down to get in his face. “You’re not worried about that girl that died on your brother’s boat last summer?”

Banner rolled his eyes. “Why should I be?”

“Someone out there knows her death wasn’t an accident,” Clint informed him. “And they have proof.”

Of all the things he expected the fucker to do, laughing wasn’t one of them. It irked Clint so fucking much, he reared back and punched Banner again, the blow knocking him off the chair. Banner was still laughing.

Trying not to let frustration best him, Clint turned back to one of the two men he brought with him, silently watching from behind him. “Give me those pliers.”

Clint didn’t take his eyes off Banner, gripping the metal tool once it was placed in his hand. The man trying pull himself off the floor with his hands bound before him did look less amused. His dark eyes were on the pliers Clint held.

Wait. Banner wasn’t worried at all about his brother’s scandal, the only reason Steven didn’t make him dead for what he did to Nat. But he was worried about the pliers.

“Put his ass back in the chair,” Clint told his men. He watched as they rushed over to Banner and none-too-gently hauled him back into the chair. “Tape him to it.”

That had Banner’s attention. Wildly, he watched as one of his guys pulled a thick roll of duct tape from his pocket. Pulling up a strip, it made a loud familiar sound.

“Wait,” Banner was worried now. “What are we doing here?” They started taping him to the chair and Banner was shouting “hey!” and “stop!”

It occurred to Clint that Banner wasn’t worried about his brother’s potential scandal. That was in the future. He was worried about having his teeth pulled out of his mouth one by one in the next few minutes. The time frame…

“What did you do, Banner?” Clint moved closer once his guys finished taping him to the chair. “What’s coming?”

Banner was silent. Now he was scared. Holy fuck. What was going on?

“Hold his head,” Clint ordered.

Banner shouted “No-no-no-no-no-no-no!” Smart enough to know what was going to happen.

Grabbing Banner’s upper lip, he pulled it painfully back from the man’s teeth.

“You know something,” Clint told him. “For every minute you don’t tell me, I’m pulling out one of these pearly whites. Got it?”

Banner didn’t immediately speak. Clint took the pliers, using them to grip one of Banner’s upper front teeth. Thrashing in the chair, Banner grew more desperate by the second, drooling and yelling “no!” at turns while Clint’s men held him steady.

“What’s coming?” Clint asked.

“I d-don’t know,” Banner managed around the tool and with Clint holding his lip. “Don’t!”

Clint pulled the tooth out with a quick yank while Banner screamed, thrashing in the hold of his men. Blood flowed from the hole where his tooth had been, from his nose, and his eyes were wide when Clint tossed the tooth casually away.

“Let’s try this again,” Clint said calmly, fear of what he didn’t know battling with the satisfaction of torturing the miserable fuck.

Clint aimed for the other front tooth when Banner cried, “Wait!”

He paused, but he didn’t move the pliers. Banner appeared desperate.

“Barnes knows!” Banner yelled.

Those two words had Clint taking a step back, taking the pliers with him. “Barnes knows what?”

Clint was all too afraid he knew the answer to that.

“Everything!” Banner cried. “You pulled my fucking tooth out!”

At Clint’s nod, his men stepped back. He got in Banner’s face again.

“What do you mean everything?” Clint wanted to know. “You been a rat all along, Banner? Is that it?”

“Hey, I’m not the rat,” Banner told him, blood filling his mouth.

“Then how do you know anything about Barnes?” Clint didn’t like this. Was something going to happen tonight? Had someone told Barnes all about their plan. This is bad. “If you’re not the rat, who is?”

Banner was shaking his head, blood running down his face, staining his clothes. Forcefully, he spat out blood.

“They’ll kill me,” Banner told him, worry flooding the man’s expression.

Clint had to laugh at that.

“What do you think I’m going to do?” Clint demanded. “You were just handed the woman I love, and I had to watch that shit, all these years. I got to watch while you betrayed her, laid hands on her.”

“Betrayed her?” Banner yelled. “She betrayed me! She never gave me a chance. I was her husband. I would have done anything for her. And she didn’t care. She was off fucking you every chance she got. Faithless bitch!”

“I will pull every goddamn tooth out of your head if you say another fucking word about her,” Clint promised, waving the pliers in front of his face. “What does Barnes know and how does he know it?”

“I wasn’t involved with any of it… until Steve broke off from Katerina,” Banner said after a moment.

And that was before Steve got married.

“Paulina’s sister, right? The one you’ve been fucking?” Clint asked.

Banner spit at Clint in anger, the bloody lob barely grazing Clint’s shoe. “I wouldn’t have fucked anyone else if I have a loyal, loving wife.”

“What did I say?” Clint’s grip tightened on the tool in his hand. “And?”

“After Steve cut her off, Kat took up with Barnes,” Banner explained.

Clint was already shaking his head. “Kat wouldn’t have known anything,” Clint told him. “Steve wouldn’t do that.”

“But I did,” Banner admitted. “One night I got to Paulina’s place and Kat dropped by. Barnes was with her.”

Holy shit.

“Barnes wasn’t trying to get me to rat anyone out,” Banner explained slowly. “But he made me an offer.”

Clint was sure he did. “What offer?”

“Barnes told me he was looking for a new consigliere,” Banner said, defiance shining in his dark eyes. “Everybody knows Petruzello is going to retire soon. Hell, he’s been with them for decades… Barnes told me he could use a guy like me. He saw me for my talent. Saw how I was being treated over here.”

“How you were treated?” Clint’s voice rose. “Are you fucking kidding me? What were you fucking lacking? You had Nat and she’s all I want in this world. You had a beautiful fucking house, nice cars, nice whore. Lot of money. Explain it to me.”

“You know what else I had?” Banner grumbled. “I had competition. And no matter how many fucking times I begged Steve to get rid of your sorry ass, he refused.”

“But Barnes was willing to, right? Is that why I got shot?” Clint shook his head, barely holding his rage down. “You must have been so fucking disappointed that I lived.”

“I was.” Banner’s glare stayed on him.

“So then what? In your anger, you beat the shit out of Nat? Is that it? You took it out on her?” Oh, something Clint said had angry color flooding Banner’s face. “Am I wrong?”

“I wouldn’t have laid a hand on my wife,” Banner said indignantly. “Not without good reason.”

“There is no good reason to hit a woman,” Clint shot back. “Never… It also wasn’t the first time.”

“How would you have felt?” Banner yelled, struggling with the tape holding him in the chair. “It was bad enough that she cheated on me with you. She never got fucking over you. Then she turns up pregnant… I completely lost it.”

The back of Clint’s hand flew, sending Banner’s head spinning. But he wasn’t backing down. With an angry glare, Banner said, “You think you would have done better? If it had been my baby, you wouldn’t have done the same?”

It took everything in him not to just shoot the bastard. Banner knew Nat was pregnant and he knew it wasn’t his. Rage clouded his mind but as he blew out an exhale, Clint tried to focus. The pregnancy had been the reason he’d beaten his wife the first time.

Why did he do it the second time?

“Did you agree to beat Nat that night for a diversion?” Clint asked him calmly. “Because the very next day, Steve called a meeting of the families. The very next day, Hansen attacked Steve’s house. He tried to take Steve’s wife. And that was your job, wasn’t it? You beat Nat to try and draw Steve out. Barnes would have known Steve only leaves the house now for business talks. Am I right?”

The corners of Banner’s mouth tipped up as he glared at him. The answer to Clint’s question was in that self-righteous smirk.

Barnes wanted Steve’s position that badly. They’d underestimated him.

“What was in it for you?” Clint had to know. “Besides taking over as Barnes consigliere. What?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Banner shot back. “The plan was for him to take Steve off the board and you with him. I’d be his new consigliere and Nat would be mine. No more interference from her brother or you. She would finally, totally be just mine.”

Swallowing back the sting of bile in the back of his throat, Clint stared him down. “Is that the plan for tonight, Banner? Is tonight Barnes’ second shot at it?”

But then it occurred to him, Banner had been tossed out. He wasn’t there when they made the plan for tonight. He had no way of knowing what was coming down. Not while his only ties left to the Rogers’ family was Paulina.

The bullet came out of nowhere, piercing Banner’s forehead and sending his head sharply back.

Clint dropped the pliers and hit the floor as another shot from behind him hit one of his men in the head. Fuck! Finding cover behind a stack of shipping pallets, Clint pulled out his .45 and began trading fire with whoever the hell it was. The other soldier he brought with him stayed behind him.

Popping up, Clint fired shots at where he thought the shooter must be. One of his bullets found the target, the rough cry sounding familiar. The sound of retreating steps had Clint sprinting in that direction, trying like hell to see who exactly who the fucker was.

If it wasn’t the rat in their family, and Clint suspected it was, it was one of Barnes men. By the time Clint reached the old rusty warehouse door, whoever had been there was gone.

Clint’s mind spun. Barnes was coming after them tonight. His first responsibility was to get to Steve and let him know they were in a world of shit right now.

His heart had him making a different choice. With shaking, blood-covered hands, Clint pulled out his phone and called Nat.

“Clint?” She still answered the phone quietly, as she had the last several years when no one was supposed to know they were talking. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby,” he assured her. “But we have a very big problem right now and I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” she said.

“When I end this call, I’ve got to tell Steve that we’ve been ratted out,” Clint explained quickly. “Barnes knows what we planned and that puts all of us in danger.”

“Oh my, God,” she whispered.

His heart squeezed in his chest. His Nat had been through so much.

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” Clint told her. “I want you to go get your sister-in-law. Right now. Get her out and take her to your mother’s sewing room. I need you to promise me you’ll do this as soon as you get off the phone.”

“Clint, I’m n-not dressed,” she said in a shaking voice. “I’m in pajamas—”

“You’re not going to take the time to get dressed, baby,” Clint said firmly. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Get the two of you in there as fast as you can. Okay? Do this for me?”

A moment passed. Finally, she said, “Yes… I’ll go now.”

“I love you,” he told her. “Always remember I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she said through tears. “Please stay alive. I can’t l-lose you now.”

Clint didn’t know what they were facing. He really didn’t.

“You won’t lose me,” he told her. “Now go. Get to that room and stay there.”

“Clint!” His other man yelled to get his attention as he pocketed his phone. “Incoming. Look like Barnes’ men.”

Taking a deep breath, Clint got ready for whatever was coming. And he had every intention of getting back to Nat.

***

The sound of the key rattling in the doorknob of your room pulled your attention from the book you really weren’t reading. It was a little early for dinner but maybe Dyson had a reason for arriving early. You knew the family had plans tonight. Dangerous plans.

You didn’t expect Nat to scramble into your room like a scared mouse, swallowed by the dark green bathroom she wore over her pajamas. Her eyes were wide, and fear reflected from those depths.

Something was very wrong here.

“Nat?” You rose from the bed, and she dashed over to you, her hands twisting around the old-fashioned ring of keys like nervous birds.

“Clint called me,” she whispered. “H-he said something about us being ratted out and… he wants me to come get you and take you to my mother’s sewing room.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. “Nat, slow down. Is he talking about—”

“Please,” she begged you. “He wouldn’t have told me to do this if things weren’t really, really bad. We have to go.”

You were shaking your head.

Nat was trying to pull you by the arm. “Why are we going to your mother’s sewing room?”

“Please, just come with me,” Nat begged.

“Okay,” you told her. “Just a minute.”

You wore a sweater with jeans, quickly pulling on a pair of ankle boots. You sprinted for the closet, pulling out the cloth bundle that concealed the handgun Dyson left you. Slapping a loaded clip into the 9 mm, you shoved the other clips and boxes of ammo into a tote bag, carrying it out with you as you went back to Nat.

Her green eyes were wide on the gun in your hand. “How do you have that?”

“Dyson,” you told her. “Let’s go.”

Instead of leading you down the stairs to the rest of the house, Nat led you the other way. You passed her bedroom, the other guestrooms. She stopped in front of what you thought was a linen closet. She opened the door, and the neat shelves of bedding and towels confirmed your suspicions. When she pushed a button on the wall, the shelf and the wall behind it moved, sliding away to reveal a small chamber behind it.

A secret room?

Nat pushed another button and the shelf and wall slid back into place, closing the two of you in a darkened room that was about the size of a child’s bedroom. In her defense, there was a small table with a very old sewing machine on top of it sitting off to the side and a dressmaker’s dummy next to it. There were cobwebs everywhere, like no one had been in the room for years. There was a small oval window, filtering sunlight to brighten the room.

“Oh,” Nat said, kneeling by the sewing machine and pulling a box from under it. There was a small oil lamp and a cigarette lighter. Setting it next to the sewing machine, she lit the lamp to brighten up the room around you.

“So, a sewing room?” you asked, tucking the gun in the waistband of your jeans at your lower back.

Nat nodded. “It really was once. I think our grandmother or great-grandmother actually sewed in here.”

“With a secret door?” You smiled.

“That was put in later,” Nat explained. “By my father. I guess something happened when we were kids that got him thinking. He decided we needed a room that no one else knew about in the house to hide. You know, us and Mom. Sometimes whatever illegal thing he wasn’t supposed to have. He was very proud the feds never found it.”

You nodded. That made sense. But you really needed to know what was going on.

“Okay, now that we’re here,” you spoke quietly, “what did Clint say? What’s going on?”

Taking a seat on the padded bench seat by the sewing machine, Nat took a deep breath. You didn’t like the way her hands shook in her lap.

“He just called me and told me that we’d been ratted out,” she told you. “He said Barnes knew our plans and that put us all in danger.”

Shock and fear had you staring at her. Dyson told you that those plans were dangerous to begin with and now Barnes knew them? You’d all been ratted out?

“Wait, he told you to get to the sewing room?” you asked.

“No, he told me to come get you and for us both to come here.”

Things were serious then. Fuck.

“Did Clint tell you anything that was planned?” you asked. “Anything at all?”

Nat shook her head. “I wouldn’t understand if he did. I’m just so afraid… if something happens to him., I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Try not to worry,” you told her. “Clint’s not going anywhere now that you’re together.”

Her lips quivered like she wanted to smile but was afraid to.

“I hate this,” she said quietly. “I always have. This business they are in. I know it’s how I’ve had a roof over my head and all the nice things I’ve had in life. But it’s so terrifying to know it can all be gone in the blink of an eye. I remember sitting in here with my mother and Steve a couple of times when we were kids. It wasn’t just knowing we were in danger. It was not knowing anything.”

Your parents had been part of that world too. You’d been spared that. Everyone thought you were disfigured, kept off to the side because of it. If you’d ever been in any danger before Steve came into your life, you weren’t aware of it.

Now? You understood it.

“We know some things,” you told her. “Apparently someone ratted us out. I have a pretty good idea of who that is.”

“Who?” she asked.

“It’s Neal,” you told her. “I’m sure of it. I don’t know how or why but it’s him.”

Nat snorted. “For all we know, it’s Bruce.”

“It’s possible,” you told her. “He probably has a hand in it. I mean, we know he has a link to Barnes. Kat and her sister.”

Her green-eyed gaze never left you.

“But, no offense, he’s a lawyer,” you told her. “He might have gone to Barnes when Steve got you out of that house. But what does he really know that would benefit Barnes? He’s not a soldier. Not part of their plans… But Neal?”

Just the thought of the damage the man could do flooded your mind. He would have been part of planning whatever was supposed to happen tonight.

And Neal was flagrantly ambitious and arrogant. The way he conducted himself in your household with everyone but Steve? Especially you. What would have happened with Banner that day if Scott and Yelena hadn’t been there?

Clint was right. Everyone was in danger. Jesus. You had to think.

“Where was Clint when he called you?” you asked.

Nat shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is that he said he and Scott were ‘running into town’ tonight. And that was when he left this morning.”

You didn’t miss the fear in her tone.

“Did you bring your phone?”  you asked her.

Nat pulled her phone and a charger from the pocket of her robe. You smiled when she handed it to you.

You tried texting Dyson first but got no response. Steve? You weren’t going there. He needed to have his head in the game and think you were safely tucked away.

Luca answered when you texted him, thinking you were Nat. If you could get him up there, to trust you, he might have the information you needed.

Luca: What you need, hon?

“What’s something you’d normally ask for, Nat?”

“Tea,” she told you. “But not for a couple of hours yet.”

Can you bring my tea up early, please? My nerves are bad today, you typed.

Luca: Sure. Give me bout 15 minutes.

Fifteen minutes exactly, Luca came up the stairs with the tray. He’d just reached her bedroom door when you approached him from the other direction. Luca’s dark eyes were wide on you.

“Shit,” he muttered.

You motioned for him to follow you. His expression was a study in reluctance, but he followed you back to the linen closet, waiting for you to open the door to the hidden chamber. Nat stood up when the two of you walked back in.

“What’s this?” Luca asked, handing the tray to Nat and focusing on her.

“Nat just did what Clint asked her to,” you told him. “He called Nat and told her to come get me and for us to come here. He said we’ve been ratted out.”

Luca scrubbed a hand over his lower face, concern bleeding into his expression. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “We don’t know where Clint is. Dyson wouldn’t answer me.”

Luca’s gaze on you was a wild mix of uncertainty and dread. You understood the position he was in.

“I’m not sure where Clint is,” Luca told you. “Dyson? Here in a while, he’s supposed to be meeting Neal. Something to do with Hansen.”

Your anxiety was consumed by fear then. “What? Oh, my God. Luca…” You took a deep breath, trying not to let fear get the better of you. “Luca, if Clint’s right and we’ve been betrayed, and I believe him, who do you think the rat is?”

“Just because you don’t like Neal doesn’t make him a rat,” Luca said calmly.

“I wasn’t there for tonight’s planning session,” you said. “But I’m guessing you were. If we’ve been ratted out, it had to be someone in that room. I know it’s not you or Dyson. I know it’s not Clint. Who else was there?”

“Scott and Neal,” he said.

“Do you really think Scott would do that?”

“Fuck,” Luca muttered, his answer telling you he didn’t believe any more than you did.

“Wait, where’s Steve?” you asked in a panic.

“Locked away in his study with the new consigliere.”

Nat set the tray with the tea on the floor at her feet, riveted to the conversation.

“He just got a new lawyer.” You shook your head. “Do you know him? Could he be a problem?”

“Nah, Murdock’s good people,” Luca told you. “Besides that, he’s blind so…”

If Luca didn’t suspect anything there, you’d trust his judgment.

“Where’s Scott?” you asked. Any of Steve’s trusted circle could be in danger right now or worse.

“Scott and Clint are supposed to be heading this way in the next couple of hours,” he said. “To meet with Steve about their part in this.”

“From the way he sounded, I don’t know if Clint will be there,” Nat whispered.

Steve and Luca were safe. You didn’t know where Clint and Scott were. And Dyson?

“We have to find Dyson and Clint,” you told him before turning your attention to Nat. “Clint called you first, to tell you there was trouble. If Steve’s down there meeting with his lawyer, Clint didn’t get in touch with him which means he’s in trouble.”

Nat’s face crumbled and you hugged her, eased her back down onto the padded bench.

You and Luca both tried Dyson and Clint, you on Nat’s phone. That he wasn’t answering Nat had your fear escalating.

When Luca’s phone rang, he answered immediately. “Scott? Hey, where are you?”

You couldn’t make out what Scott was saying. Luca nodded, mouthing “he’s fine.”

“Do you know where Dyson or Barton is?” Luca asked him, shaking his head.

“S’alright. I need you to get over here,” Luca told him. “Now.”

Luca ended the call, looking from Nat to you. “Scott don’t know where anyone is… Listen. You two need to stay right here, okay? I got to get to the boss and let him know we have a situation. We gotta find Dyson and Clint right fucking now.”

Nat buried her face in her hands, crying. You met his gaze squarely, nodding. Luca had trusted the two of you on what you knew. You were grateful.

“Stay in touch with me,” you told him.

“Will do,” Luca said, making his way out of the sewing room.

There was one more call you had to make. You knew Yelena’s number by heart. You didn’t know if she would recognize Nat’s number or if she’d answer, even if she did.

On the fifth tone, someone answered. “Natasha?” Yelena’s accented voice whispered.

“No, it’s me,” you said.

“You’re already out?” There was a pause then. “I’m so sorry about—”

“I am so sorry about what happened,” she said in a rush. “I’m so sorry—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you cut her off. “But we’ll talk about that later. Are you safe? Dyson said you were safe and with friends.”

“I’m safe,” she told you. You could hear the smile in her voice. “I promise.”

“Do you have any idea where he is right now?” you asked.

“Dyson? No,” she said. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You heard the same fear you felt in her words. “Yes, and we don’t know where he is. Or Clint.”

“Clint?” Yelena asked. “I talked to him earlier. I gave him some intel on where he could find Banner.”

Oh, shit.

“Can you give me the location?” You needed it. “He might be in trouble.” You told her how he called Nat and what he’d said.

“Where is Neal?” Yelena asked.

“Not sure, but I’m told his part of the plan was to go with Dyson to see Hansen,” you explained.

“Neal is the traitor,” she said gravely.

“I know. And we can’t let him kill Dyson.”

“We won’t,” she assured you. “Does Steve know?”

You had to laugh at that. “He soon will. Luca’s going to talk to him.”

“Let me know the second you get any leads on Dyson,” she told you. “We will go find Clint.”

You didn’t know who we were. But you trusted her.

“Thank you.”

“Stay where you are,” she told you. “With Nat. For now.”

You couldn’t promise her that, but you also didn’t want to mess with her head.

“I will,” you said. “Please be careful.”

***

Yelena ended the call, walking back into the living room of the little cabin where Dyson had stashed her for safety. Dyson’s friends, who needed a place to lay low from some trouble they found themselves in, were scattered across the room.

Clay and Aisha were watching something on the History Channel, drinking beer and eating popcorn. Pooch and Cougar were still playing cards. Only Jensen looked up from his laptop to see her return.

“What’s up?” Jensen asked.

“Dyson maybe in trouble,” she told them.

And that was all she needed to say. Now that she had everyone’s attention, she filled them in on the details. Like her, there wasn’t a lot they wouldn’t do for their mutual friend.

Clay was a strategist and didn’t take him long to come up with a plan of action.

“Three of us are going to the location where we sent Barton,” he said. “Three of us are going to Hansen’s place.”

She didn’t miss the distaste in his voice when he said the name Hansen. She wasn’t the only one the bastard had fucked with over the years.

“Yelena, you take Pooch and Cougar and find Barton,” Clay said. “I’ll—”

“No,” Yelena cut him off. “I’m going to Hansen’s.”

Aisha and Clay exchanged a worried glance. “You sure about this?” Clay asked her.

Yelena nodded. After everything Dyson had done for her, for all of them, she wanted to be there to protect him if she could. If anything happened to him, it would devastate her.

It would devastate her boss. And Yelena had no intention of having to tell Mrs. Rogers that anything happened to Dyson on her watch.

Clay nodded. “Aisha, take Pooch and Cougar and go find Barton. Yelena, you and Jensen are with me.”

PS: Just on my fic posts, I’m adding a tip function. In honor of the kitty we just lost in February, I’m donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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[marvelettesassemblenow]

Wrong Number

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female Reader 

Summary: When Steve texted the wrong number, he started a friendship with you. Most of your talks are about your Corgi Bella, but then you find out who Steve really is 

Word Count: ~3.5k 

Warnings: body shaming for Steve (don’t worry, other people make sure to tell Steve how beautiful he is), if you don’t like garlic I’m sorry – just imagine it is something else, some swearing 

A/N: Texts in [ . ] are text messages 

[I’m just asking because Sam begged me to ask you to bring your garlic dip to the barbeque. He won’t shut up or else I wouldn’t be bothering you.] 

[I don’t know a Sam?] 

[Haha, I’ll tell him that] 

[No, seriously. I don’t know who you’re talking about.] 

[Good one, Nat. You could have just said you wouldn’t bring it.] 

[I’m not Nat... And tbh I don’t know who you are either. I think you have the wrong number 

At least I hope Sam gets the garlic dip, if it helps] 

You didn’t hear anything else from the unknown number and it had been a few days. When it was Thursday evening and you were bored and scrolled through your messages you saw the unknown number again and decided to send text. 

[I hope Sam got his garlic dip!] 

When there was no reply in the next minutes you put your phone aside and put more focus on the show running in the background. Then your phone was illuminated by an incoming text. 

[He was very sad he didn’t get it. And he did complain all the time while he was still stuffing his face with my apple pie.] 

[Wow, so I guess that dip must be very good then. Any chance I could get the recipe?] 

[I doubt it. No one has gotten it out of Nat so far] 

[What about your pie recipe?] 

[Who knows, I might share one day] 

[Well a girl can hope. I hope I didn’t bother you.] 

[No bother, I’m glad you’re distracting me from some paperwork] 

[Well then here’s something else to distract you] 

Steve wasn’t sure if he should open the picture or not. He heard stories, but in the end his curiosity won, and he was rewarded. He looked at the cutest little dog who was sleeping on a rather big pillow. 

He couldn’t help but gush about the dog and learned that she was yours, was called Bella and a corgi. You shared stories about her and he couldn’t help but ask more and more until he noticed that he should really finish writing his report. But talking to you was fun and so he decided to go to his room and call it a night. He would get up earlier in the morning to write the report. 

He messaged you when you were taking a walk with Bella, telling you to be safe. It became a daily occurrence to talk to each other. He messaged you in the morning asking how Bella was, although he knew that she wasn’t with you. It was easier under the pretend to ask about your dog than to ask directly how you were doing. But it was always the second question he asked. 

Talking to you was just easier – it might be because he was just Steve. No Captain America, no solider, just Steve who was talking to a nice woman about her dog. And your job, your family – you had been messaging for weeks now and he still learned something new about you. 

You still tried to bribe him with pictures of Bella in exchange for the recipe for the apple pie. It wasn’t like it was a big secret recipe, but he enjoyed the banter and the pictures that came in through the day. The latest one was of the dog with her head turned to the side and a crown that almost fell from her head. 

[I saw the crown and thought it was fitting as you always call her princess, but she seems to hate it 🙁] was the caption of the pic. 

[She doesn’t need a crown to be my princess. Will you go on your walk soon?] 

[Yup, just getting ready] 

That was the last message he received. He didn’t like you being out on your own at that time of the evening. You had sent him a picture and it was dark, so he always texted with you. But this evening he didn’t receive an answer so for the first time he did something he had never done before. 

The buzzing didn’t stop and you fished the phone out of your jacket, it showed an incoming call from Steve. It took you a second until you finally pressed the green button. 

“Hello?” you asked. You hadn’t realized that you had stopped walking until Bella nudged your leg. 

“You didn’t reply to my message, I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” you heard his voice – and the sound of it made you wonder - not for the first time - how he looked like. 

“Were you worried?”  

You didn’t expect him to answer with a clear yes. “I did, I needed to check in on my girls.” That did things to you, you weren’t able to handle yet. You played it off and talked about Bella instead, who was getting restless. 

“I guess you can keep us company, Bella just wants to keep going.” 

“Of course she is, she wants her mom home safe. She’s my good girl,” he said, and it was as if Bella heard his voice when she starred at you. Steve was on the phone with you until you told him you arrived home safely and put the phone on speaker where he talked to your dog while you took off your jacket. 

“I have to go now and play with a grumpy cat,” he told you when you were back on the phone. 

“You have a cat?” you asked astonished as he had never mentioned it before and only then did he admit that he had been at his best friend's place. You scolded him for talking to you instead. 

“As I said I was worried about you. The punk wouldn’t dare to say anything, but Alpine might bite me if I won’t give her some cuddles now. Have a good night, sweetheart.” Before you could reply anything he had ended the phone call and you could only stare at your dog on shock. 

“Well, that’s a new one.” 

Tuesdays you helped at your local animal shelter. And that day there was a lot of talking and surprisingly many people. 

“What’s happening?” you asked Amy when you signed in.  

“A lot of people are here today because of the photo shooting. A few Avengers came by to take some pictures for a campaign to adopt more animals. Pretty good idea, but the day wasn’t as good. The photographer was a bitch. There really isn’t a better word for it. She was complaining the whole time, demanding and then she was a real bitch to Captain America. The man came here to do something good, for free might I add, and she looked him in the eye and said “I thought superheroes were supposed to be perfect. This is going to take so long to photoshop these arms with these stretchmarks all over.” 

“She didn’t,” you gasped. “What did he say?” 

“That poor man excused himself. He said he was sorry and opted to put on some more clothes. Can you imagine? What a crime!” 

“Damn, now I wish I had been here. I would have ripped her a new one, this is no way to talk to other people. And especially not someone who risks his life for us. And who in their right mind would look at him and tell him he’s ugly?” You were getting upset and you weren’t even there. Amy asked you if you could take Daisy for a walk and let that information slip that she had been the dog that had been photographed with Captain America. 

Daisy had gotten her name because of a white spot on her butt that looked like the flower and you were surprised that she hadn’t found a forever home yet as she was the sweetest dog you had ever met (but you wouldn’t say that out loud when Bella was near).   

“I think I cheated.” Your heart stopped for a second before you remembered that he couldn’t be talking about you – as you weren’t a couple. 

“You think you cheated?” 

“Today I had – I saw a couple of puppies and I slipped and called the little girl princess and then I felt bad immediately when I noticed, and I just had to call and come clean and apologize to my princess. Of course, she’s the only one, but maybe she’ll understand if she sees her.” 

“Did you call to apologize to my dog for calling another dog princess?” you concluded. 

“I would have come over and gave her favorite treat and some cuddles if I could, so I hope this will be enough though.” There has never been a conversation about if the two of you should meet. An incoming picture distracted you though. 

And this time you were sure that your heart stopped, because there was no way! No way that this picture happened today and that you were staring at the same puppy that had been in your arms not 3 hours ago. And had been in Steve’s too. “I’ll just... I’ll put you on speaker so you can apologize to Bella. I have to use the bathroom, I think.” You put the phone on the floor, told Bella – who let out a whoof when she saw you walking away, but decided to stay near the phone and not move at all from her place. 

Your Steve was Captain America. Your Steve was Captain America. Your Steve was Captain America. You felt like a damn fool, but on the other hand – what was he supposed to say? Obviously he wouldn’t introduce himself as Captain America. And then you remembered what Amy had told you about that awful woman and you bet he had an awful day while you just let him alone with your dog on the phone.  

“I’m back, sorry for disappearing and leaving you with my dog.” 

“That’s alright, are you okay?” 

“I am! What about you?” You pressed the phone closer to your ear. 

“I’m okay too. Feel a lot better now that I’m talking to you,” he admitted, and you could hear that he really sounded more relaxed. “Okay, so I’m going to suggested something crazy here. How about we switch to a video call? You don’t have to show me yours, but you could see Bella if you want to. And me, if that’s what you want.” You must have been out of your mind to suggest that, but now that you knew who was on the other side of the phone, it just seemed fair. 

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.” 

“Let me change real quick, so I won’t be in my pj’s anymore. But I’ll put Bella on first.” You placed the phone in front of her dog bed and pushed the call button and when you could hear Steve’s voice again you quickly went to throw on a regular shirt and decided to stick with the pj pants. And you couldn’t do anything to hide the growing pimple on your face, so you wouldn’t be bothering about that either. 

When you came back and picked up the phone Bella looked confused, then lost and followed you towards the couch where you were headed. In the end Steve had a good view of your dog and a not flattering angle of you. “So guess this is me then,” you said when the other line went still and you saw the black rectangle in the corner. 

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d look like that.” You face must have shown you confusion. “It’s nothing bad, its better, but like you imagine how the other person would look like when you’re talking to them and it isn’t that at all, but you’re … beautiful. Seriously, I knew you’d be because of everything you told me, but seeing it with my own eyes. I wish I could show you myself, but today... isn’t a good day.” 

“That’s okay, I offered. You don’t have to do that, don’t feel pressured.” Bella made a noise as if she’d agree and a laugh was heard through your speakers in reply. 

Minute by minute his mood improved; you could hear it in his voice. He was telling you about the cute dog and you felt like you kept something from him when you didn’t tell him that you knew Daisy. But then you’d give away that you knew who he was and he wasn’t ready to share that. He had only told you he didn’t have a good day and that talking to you had made it better. You noticed that this was the first time he left Bella out. 

“So what, you can gush about one corgi all the time, but when I take you to a corgi party, you’re all pouty?” Sam couldn’t believe it. Steve had been in a mood for a few days and Bucky and he thought this would cheer him up. 

“Steve, did you see the one dressed up as Captain America?” Bucky was excitingly pointing somewhere in the distance. It seemed like he was having the most fun of the three of them. Steve couldn’t tell his friends that this made him kind of sad, because it made him miss you and your dog. The talking had fizzled out and you almost had no time to call or anything. You still sent him messages when you were on your walk (He just couldn’t reply in that moment because he was on a mission) and you sent him pictures of Bella, but it felt like something was missing since you had your video call. 

But how could he tell you that he wasn’t just Steve, he was Captain America too? 

“Steve, look at that one at your feet. It’s looking up to you.” 

Steve looked down and there sat a Corgi. “Hey there,” he cooed and bend down. “Aren’t you a cute one?” The dog waggled its tail and flopped on its back, so Steve started to rub the belly. “Are you lost?” he asked when he noticed the leash hanging loosely at the dogs side. “What’s your name pr- sweetheart?” He stopped himself, but he noticed the ears standing up when he almost let the petname slip. 

Two things happened at the same time: While Steve looked at the name on the dog tag at the collar, someone shouted for Bella and the dog got back on its feet. 

“Princess?” Steve asked at the same time you asked “Steve?” and then he said your name or more like breathed it. Bella let out some noises so no one would forget about her, while you and Steve were busy staring at each other, and he had stopped petting her. 

The moment was broken by a man approaching. “Sorry, but could I take a picture of you and Oliver? I can’t believe we met the real Captain America!” Steve looked briefly at you, but you offered to take the picture. Bella refused to leave his side and so you took a picture with her at his feet, Steve with a forced smile and a dressed-up Captain America Corgi in its owner arms. 

When the man left Steve looked apologetic at you. “I didn’t want you to find out like that!” he said sheepishly. 

“Oh, I already knew,” you admitted and looked at the two people standing behind him. After a quick introduction they asked if it would be okay to pet Bella and you told them that she would be disappointed if they didn’t. 

“Have you met Winter?” you asked Bucky who gave Bella the pets she so desperately wanted. 

“Uh no? I don’t think so?” 

“You have to meet her! I just met her and her owner and they are so nice! Winter is actually named after... well I guess you’ll find out. But I bet she would love to meet you! They wanted to get something to eat so you might find them there.” 

When it was only the two (three) of you Steve apologized for not telling you sooner about his alter ego.  

“It’s not like you need to walk around, telling everyone. I get it, Steve. I’m not mad! You told me about you and your friends, what you like and don’t like. You didn’t need to tell me about your job. And it wasn’t like I told you when I found out who you were either.” 

“Why didn’t you?” he asked when you stopped so Bella could sniff at a new friend. 

“I thought you’d tell me when you’re ready. And I heard about the photo shooting at the shelter, so I thought this wasn’t the day to bring it up. And I want to tell you again,” you stopped and, with a bravery you didn’t know you had, took his hand in yours and only continues when he looked at you: “Don’t listen to that horrible woman. You’re very handsome and you’re such a beautiful person, don’t let other people tell you otherwise!” 

A blush started to appear on his face, but he didn’t let go of your hand and in the end the three of you left the park with him texting his friends they shouldn’t wait for him. Talking to each other felt easy and you didn’t even know why you hadn’t really talked in the last weeks. Maybe it was because you felt insecure after that video chat.  

But your friendship with Steve grew and now he was even accompanying you on your evening walks, which often ended with late night talks in your apartment. If Steve couldn’t come it was Bucky or Sam and one time Natasha stood in front of your door and introduced herself (That same night you also found a little note with some ingredients on it in your kitchen). Bella loved all of them and especially the one-time Bucky had a little companion with him. 

“Interested in talking a walk with us?” he asked. 

“Us?” you asked confused as you didn’t see Sam. 

“Yeah, Winter and I were about to take a walk.“ Your eyebrows rose when you spotted the three-legged dog next to his side. “Just don’t ask, okay?” You promised but you would be asking Steve as soon as he was back from this mission! Walks with Bucky were kind of different, not as much was said as it would be with the other ones, but you somehow felt that in the non-talking you said a lot to each other. 

“So, when are the two of you making it official?” he said randomly. He didn’t look at you and was instead watching Bella and Winter intensely. 

“If Steve is interested in something more than friendship, he should make it known. I thought I had made it clear that I’m interested and if he isn’t taking the next step, I’m not pushing it into something it isn’t.” 

“I guess I need to have a chat with that punk then.” Winter and Bella were exhausted from the impromptu playdate and while Bella crashed immediately when you opened the door, Bucky picked up Winter without a struggle, told you good night and made his way back out of the building. 

The next time your doorbell rang you it was Steve in civilian clothes, but still with dirt in his face and his hair unkempt. “We need to talk!” 

You couldn’t help yourself and you had to take a picture! The sight in front of you was just too cute. “Don’t stand there and join us!” Steve’s sleepy voice suddenly said, and you should have expected that he had noticed you lurking in the doorway. You quickly walked over and laid in the arm that your boyfriend held out for you. 

“Did you like the picture you took?” he asked. 

“Love it, actually.” 

A few minutes later a notification popped up on your phone. 

[Steve Rogers posted a picture] 

This is real and even heroes aren’t perfect was the headline and it showed a picture of a shirtless Steve - stretchmarks and all - in bed with a corgi thrown over him and they looked at each other with love in their eyes.  

Steves Instagram post made the internet go mad. Theories about who that dog was, what made him post after such a long time and then something so extremely personal. And no one was prepared for the chain reaction that followed:  

Under the hashtag #HeroesAren’tPerfectEither and #AdoptDon’tShop followed pictures of the other Avengers. The Winter Soldier posted a picture of him standing in front of a dog with only three legs – and without his prosthetic arm. Many pictures more followed and the campaign, that wasn’t a campaign, was more successful than any other. More furry friends found their forever home, although Steve felt that in his case it had been Bella who had adopted him and showed him his forever home. 

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Reblogs, comments, asks or just a ramble mean the world to me &lt;3

[gingiesworld]

A Sense of Betrayel

Requested by @osgsidbk

Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings : Angst. Drug use. Not a happy ending

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N Y/L/N was the doting father and husband of the Maximoff household. That was until he had saw something he wished he didn't. One night as he was just walking home from the bar where he would meet up with Bucky and just have a catch up. Of course he did used to have a problem but Wanda had pleaded with him to stop and he did. He had gotten the help he needed and got clean. For his wife and the twins.

"Come on." Y/N mumbled as he was looking through the closet for his secret stash. "Come on. Come on!" Wanda stood by the door as she watched him completely lose his mind over the substance he had craved.

"What are you looking for?" Wanda questioned although she already knew the answer.

"Nothing." He mumbled as he wiped his brow, the cold sweats already starting as he was experiancing withdrawal. "I thought I left it here."

"You did." Wanda stated as Y/N gave her a questioning look. "You left it in reach of the boys!" She threw the small bag at him. He flinch at the sound of her raised voice. "Our boys could have taken it and overdosed. You could have killed them!"

"I." Wanda shook her head as Y/N tried to talk.

"You promised me Y/N. You promised you wouldn't." She whispered as the tears fell down her face.

"I'm sorry Wanda." He mumbled as she shook her head.

"I'm filing for a divorce." Wanda told him. "And full custody."

"You can't take my boys away from me. They're all I have!" He yelled as he held her by the arms.

"Let go of me." She told him.

"They're all I have left." He whispered as she scoffed.

"You had me." She told him with a shaky voice. "I want you gone before Vision brings the boys home." Wanda told him as Y/N scoffed.

"Of course he would jump straight in." He chuckled as Wanda gave him a questioning look. "He's always had feelings for you you know. Ever since we were just starting out."

"Vis is my best friend, just like you and Nat." Wanda told him.

"Well he has always wanted more." Y/N told her with a sickening smirk.

"I don't even know who you are anymore." Wanda whispered as Y/N grasped the small bag and his wallet.

"I hope you and Vis have a nice life together." He spat before he left the house. Leaving a numb Wanda in his wake. She was fast to text Nat about what had just happened.c

"I'll find him." Was what she recieved from the Russian. Nat spent weeks trying to find him, searching all of his old stomping grounds. Giving small updates to Wanda who just thanked her for searching.

"Where's dad?" Billy questioned as Wanda was baking.

"You're dad is on a business trip." Wanda told him with a fake smile. Although she knew where he most like was, she wasn't going to tell her sons that.

"Will he be coming home soon?" He asked her as she just sighed.

"Of course Billy." She told him before she ushered him to do his homework. Sighing as she disappeared outside to call Nat. "Is there any sign?" She questioned as Nat sighed.

"No. I'm sorry Wanda." Nat told her sadly. "I've tried everywhere, even Bucky's and he hasn't seen him."

"Thank you Nat." Wanda whispered as she stared at the manilla envelope on the counter. The two bid their goodbyes as her fingers danced over the item. She knew in her heart that she loved Y/N no matter what but it seemed like he loved getting high more than his family.

As the day went on, she had recieved a phone call from an unknown number, so she answered it.

"Hello." She answered as she cleaned up.

"Is this Mrs Maximoff?" The other person questioned.

"Yes, may I ask what this is about?" She questioned as her heart pounded in her chest.

"You're husband has been rushed in with a suspected overdose." They told her as her heart dropped. Not once did she suspect that this would happen.

"Will he be ok?" Wanda asked them, her entire body going numb. As the conversation went on, her brother came barrelling through her front door.

"Y/N." He gasped as Wanda just nodded.

"I know." She told him as she carried on cleaning.

"Aren't you going?" He asked her as she shook her head. "Wanda, he needs you."

"No." Wanda chuckled. "If he needed me that much he would have kept his promise. He promised me." Pietro just stood there as she got everything out. "He promised me he wouldn't touch that stuff again. After all of the rehab, the help he had off of everyone. Mostly me, but I have the twins to think about too since he hasn't thought about them in all the time he had been taking that stuff. So fuck him."

"You don't mean that Wanda." Pietro stated as she chuckled dryly.

"It would be easier if he died." She told him. "We're getting divorced and I will be getting sole custody of the boys. I will not have him poison them with his lifestyle."

Nat sat beside Y/N as he woke up, squinting his eyes as he looked up at the flourescent lights.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." Nat remarked as Y/N groaned.

"I'm still alive." He groaned as Nat smiled.

"Yes you are thankfully." Nat told him as he shook his head.

"I wanted to end it!" He yelled as Nat watched him break. "I don't want to be here Natasha. I don't fucking want it." She watched as he removed all of the needles from him. "I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve Wanda or the boys. You should have just left me to die."

"You're my best friend Y/N. You have been since we were kids and I'll be damned if I let you end your life." She told him, the two unaware of Wanda stood outside of the room.

"It's not worth living anymore." He whispered with the tears in his eyes. "I've lost Wanda. The one person who I have loved with all of me. She wants a divorce and." He shook his head as Nat just pulled him into her.

"I do want that." Wanda made herself known. "But it's not because I don't love you Y/N, because I do. I love you more than anything in this world, besides the twins." She took a deep breath as Y/N watched her with tired eyes as Nat helped him stand. "I trusted you Y/N. I trusted that you would confide in me if it got bad. If the urges came back ten fold. I was there for you but I am tired Y/N. I need you to be there for me."

"Please give me another chance." He pleaded as Wanda shook her head. The two had tears down their face. "I just need another chance. Please. I can prove myself. I will prove myself. I'll get help."

"I've heard all of that before." Wanda told him. "You made those promises before and you broke them."

"Please." He whispered as she shook her head no.

"Get the help for you and the boys because they need their father in their life but my decision is final." Wanda told him. "We are getting a divorce." With that she left with Y/N's heart in her hands. Not seeing as he collapsed to the floor, his whole life shattering, but this time he was going to keep his promises. He wasn't going to fail Wanda and the twins again. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.