Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

This is by far the longest meeting of your life. Okay…perhaps ‘longest’ may be an exaggeration, but time tends to go incredibly slow when you’re eagerly waiting for something else. As much as you respect Maria, lunch with Wanda has gradually become your favourite part of every Wednesday - every week if you're being honest with yourself. You two spend most of your days together anyway, but Wednesday is always Wanda time. Wednesday’s for Wanda...Wanda's Wednesday’s...Wanda...

The clock seems to come to an agonising stop as Maria drags on the debriefing as long as she possibly can, going through every little detail, every little problem, every little move you made during your last mission. You barely take her critiques seriously anymore after what happened between the two of you. Maria hates you and she can't deny it; she can’t even pretend that looking at you doesn’t make her insides twist and turn.

“Agent, do you have somewhere else to be?” Maria sighs as she stops herself mid-speech when she notices your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall every couple of seconds. “I cannot stress how significant these debriefings are, Agent Y/L/N. It is a great way of analysing and critiquing yourself, and pinpointing your faults and flaws to improve and perfect your roles.” Her perfect grammar and goody-two-shoes nature used to turn you on, even more so when you fucked her so silly she’d turn into a blabbering, grammatically incorrect mess. Your eyes glance over her body for a second or two, knowing what’s under her clothes is just as perfect as her grammar.

“I totally respect that, boss, but don’t you think two hours is a little excessive? I’m not that bad of an actress.” The corner of your lips turns upwards into a wicked smirk that she scoffs at. The brunette throws the heavy file on the table, making it shake, and crosses her arms over her chest. You let your eyes linger there, making sure she can see exactly where your attention is at. You know it probably won't happen again, but it never hurts to try - it could get you back on her good side.

“I beg to differ considering you can’t hide how bored you are.” Her harsh tone is not one people can argue with, so you simply give her a defeated chuckle, tapping your fingers on the table rhythmically.

“Got me there.” You murmur, more to yourself than to her.

So...this is where you stand. It’s not like you wanted anything more than just sex; it was good for the both of you. But she was right about you being a terrible actress. The lingering looks, the unnecessary touches, the one time you accidentally let her name slip out of your moaning mouth...Maria figured out pretty soon that she became nothing but a distraction from who you really wanted.

You did feel bad about it for a while, but only because she looked so hurt and upset all the time. You don’t necessarily think you did anything wrong; people do this all the time, right? Sex is just that, and you had both agreed that sex was all it was between the two of you. What else could she have expected from you? If you were going to feel something you would have already, way, way sooner considering you’ve been fucking for years.

“You do realise minor undercover missions will be the only ones you will be assigned until you perfect at least one of your covers, right?” Tick. Tock. You really need to get out of here and as far away as possible. This isn't just a mission critique but a way for Maria to punish you for hurting her. It’s clever, you’ll give her that, wasting your free time by spending hours insulting your skillset - or rather the lack of it as she’s been moaning about for the past two hours. You’ve been distracted for a couple of months, but before that you’ve had nothing but a perfect record.

“Okay, I have a suggestion. How about I take the files and write all about how bad I’ve been? I’ll have it on your desk by tomorrow morning, MiMi.” You flirt with her with dangerously seductive eyes, hoping she’ll fold. You hold eye contact with her until she clenches her jaw and lowers her gaze to the files.

“I told you not to call me that.” Gentle tone, holding back a lot, hiding her deep emotions but letting you know she has them. She really is clever. Manipulative, even. Because your chest starts feeling heavy with a little…guilt? No. You? Guilty? You already came to the conclusion that you had nothing to be guilty about. You shake that thought out of your head quickly; you’re not falling for her tricks.

“You’ve told me to do a lot of things, Hill, have I ever listened?” You plant your signature smirk back on and she sighs, sliding the file over to you.

“Tomorrow morning. No later.” Back to stoic Deputy Director Hill.

“So bossy!” You tease before grabbing the files and speed-walking out of the room. She really does know how to get under your skin without even trying. Perhaps she wasn’t actually trying. Maybe her emotions had been genuine. There’s a chance she really is hurt that you only kept sleeping with her because you couldn’t have her. But in your defence, anyone you sleep with is just a replacement, a way to get your fix and fuck someone else pretending her body was the one you were kissing, marking, touching.

Maria was all you really had when you first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. considering most agents were too scared of you, being a Super-Soldier and all. Not Maria though. Maria not once feared you. She actually tried to establish herself as the authoritative figure. There’s just something about powerful women that really gets you going, so, of course you let this commander-agent dynamic blossom until you managed to get her into your bed. Needless to say, your super-strength and endless stamina changed the power dynamic instantly.

Then, the Avengers initiative was launched. You knew about it beforehand, before Natasha and Clint, before Steve and Tony. But you were last to join. Teamwork wasn’t your thing. It never has been; you’ve been working alone your entire life, not being able to trust a single person, not even yourself sometimes.

Years of therapy and psychological training exercises has helped you with accepting the past as something to be forgiven - or accepted - but not forgotten; it did shape you to become the person you are today, but it doesn't define you. Nevertheless, you still weren’t ready to join an entire team of people equally dangerous to you as you were to them - both physically and mentally. That was until Sokovia. The Avengers had won, but at what cost? Hundreds of innocent lives, some lives you could have saved if you had been there. It was enough for you to finally accept Fury’s offer and join the team.

You’d heard of all of them beforehand but hadn’t interacted with them until then. You grew incredibly close to Wanda, having an uncontrollable urge to protect her, but soon it turned out she’d be the one looking out for you. Tony was easy to crack once you established a connection when you dropped the bomb, the scariest thing any person could have said to the Avengers: therapy. He used you as evidence of its success considering most of the group were still wary, all countering Tony’s ‘I turned out great!’ claim. He didn’t. Everyone else followed after that, warming up to you and welcoming you into their group dynamic. And Natasha…

A month after you joined, Maria broke down in front of you and said she was done being used. In your defence, you thought you were both using each other because isn’t that all sex is? Using someone for your own pleasure? Sex is a commodity, just like everything else in this world. Apart from love. Love is…that’s a philosophical debate for another day.

“Who is that?” Wanda asks you before you even make it through the archway leading into the kitchen. When you walk in you see her seated on a stool mixing a salad in a large bowl and you internally groan at the sight. The both of you alternate between picking meals each week and you’ve been starving for two hours just to see green ‘food’. Gross. She glares at you as you sit in front of her, having read your mind to know you’re insulting her choice of lunch.

“Who?” You ask and gulp down the cup of water she pours for you.

“The man you are thinking about.” Wanda refills your cup and raises a brow at you, her thick accent still prominent.

“Okay. One, stop doing that. Two, Bertrand Russell.” She looks at you pointedly, waiting for elaboration which you give her after rolling your eyes. “Philosopher in the early 20th century. I met him once when I was still spying for the government.” You remember that night you met him clearer than day.

“You have had a long life.” She looks at you with that curious look in her eyes that’s almost always aimed at you, especially when she’s walking through your mind.

“To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.” You quote, leaning back and pushing your salad around the bowl. Wanda looks at you curiously with a hint of a small smile on her lips. Talking to you is one of her favourite things to do; being one of the youngest people on the team was hard, but she learnt something new every single day with you. “A great man. Spent a lot of his life advocating for peace and love. He said that to me at this party I snuck into. He then wrote a book about it.”

You were on a mission so you weren’t really supposed to drink, but once you sat with him it was hard to stop. He was a captivating character, one with fascinating views that you found pretty advanced for his time; anti-war, anti-authoritarianism, anti-everything apart from love. He consistently promoted rights to love whoever your heart desired - being closeted queer yourself at the time, you were ecstatic to meet a man as open-minded as he was.

“You should write a book about your life.” Wanda giggles out, covering her mouth subtly as she chews. How do you even chew salad? It’s basically water. Literally water; lettuce is 96% water. Why would someone go out of their way to eat a bland, solidified version of water?

“You wouldn’t read it, darling; you’ve already seen the movie.” You point to your head with a quick wink and a smirk. She’s always in your head and you never really had a problem with her being in there. She’s easily the one person you trust the most, not only on this team but the entire universe. There isn’t a single bad bone in her body, still young and naive on her views of the world. Perhaps you can help shape them. Maybe not your views on love, though.

“You are not three parts dead, Y/N.” Wanda says softly, warm hand reaching over to lightly rest on yours, squeezing gently. You give her a smile in response before sighing and looking down at your bowl. This will be your biggest challenge of the day. Salad.

“Thanks, Red.” Your hand practically trembles as you stab your fork into the just about edible pieces of green and red. Not even chicken. At least make it a chicken salad.

“So, how did your meeting with Maria go?”

“Boring, as usual.”

“Is she still upset?” You let out a laugh at that, remembering her clenched jaw and annoyingly formal ramblings. 

“Of course, and still being passive aggressive with her anger. Hey, you don’t think I’m a bad actress, do you?” You frown, wondering if she had just been saying that out of spite. You’ve been performing and acting as anyone but yourself for decades. Surely you can’t be that bad.

“Well, I don’t think I’m one to judge. I can read your mind.” Wanda teases with a smirk and wink, taking a plentiful bite of her food. You chugged down your water again to clean the taste of ‘healthy’ out of your mouth. You need to get a burger or something after this.

“That’s cheating.” You growl at her playfully and hear footsteps from the hallway connected to the kitchen. You can already tell who it is - and no, you’re not creepy for knowing precisely how she walks, how fast or slow she moves, the pressure of her steps that indicate her mood or intent. You’re a spy after all, right? Useful stuff to know, even if it’s just hers that you’ve memorised.

“What’s cheating?” She asks curiously once she steps in and beelines to the fridge. Your breath almost gets caught up in your throat at the sound of her voice, soft but a little demanding, naturally raspy and seductive, sweet like honey. Wanda smirks at you from across the table and you scowl at her as a warning.

“Reading minds. Hey, Romanoff, you don’t think I’m a bad actress, do you?” You turn around to look at her, gulping when your eyes meet her tight muscles shining with a thin layer of sweat. A few strands of red cling to her forehead as she turns from the fridge with a bottle of water.

“Terrible. Worst spy I’ve ever met.” She says in a flat voice, obviously teasing you. You can tell by the playful glint in those glimmering emeralds she calls eyes.

“I’ve been a spy for, like, a century.” You scoff out and she simply laughs at you, leaning over your shoulder, her locks brushing against your cheek. Your breath hitches and you don’t do well in hiding it taking into account the smirk planted on her full lips, slightly chapped from dehydration. You still want to kiss them more than anything in the world.

“And you’re still this bad? Are you not embarrassed?” Natasha insults you before spinning on her heel with a deep chuckle.

“Get out.” You growl at her, eyes drifting from her back to…well…lower. “I hope your socks get wet!” You call out after her and you hear an echo of her laughter.

“Ew. That’s so mean.” Wanda mumbles, shivering at the thought.

“That’s the point.” You roll your eyes and look back down at your food. Green has defeated you once again - twice if you count Natasha, thrice if you count the fact that she probably made her way to Bruce’s room by now. You hate green sometimes. “Don’t ask whatever you’re thinking of asking. I’m fine, just like I was last week, just like I have been for months now.” You can practically hear Wanda thinking across the table, mouth hung open and snapping closed as she thinks about what to say to you. You don’t need her comfort, not right now.

“Mhm. I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Stop cheating!”

You and Natasha often trained together when you first joined the team, but you could only handle two months of proximity to the redhead before it became too hard to restrain yourself. So you pulled yourself out and trained with Steve instead. You told her it was because fighting her was ‘too easy’, not an insult to her combat skills but a simple fact that you, being a Super-Solider, needed to fight someone similar to your biological make up to actually challenge and improve yourself.

She gave you a simple nod and ‘understandable’ and that was the end of it. The only times you saw her in training was during group fighting sessions and the occasional cardio day when you both happened to be running yourself to exhaustion in the hopes that it would be enough to finally fall asleep.

Keeping Captain America down was one of the hardest things to do - near to impossible - but you never gave up trying.

“Nice work. Again.” He barks out orders as you kick him back, but he lands on his two feet with a loud stomp. You charge towards him, and him to you, feigning a left hook but going for a right jab to his side. He stumbles back a little but throws a combo back that you block until he surprises you by swiping your ankles. “Up.” He orders when you groan after landing on your back. It doesn't really hurt; your groan is more out of frustration for your failure. You should know this by now, you should be able to predict his every move. You were better than this, so much better than this, until her.

You find yourself glancing over at the door whenever you are in this room, or any room, buzzing at the possibility that you’ll see her face. But most of the time when she does walk in, he follows her like a puppy on a leash. Oh, to have her holding your leash. What a dream.

It hurt, like most stories of unrequited love - love? Was it really love or lust or desire, or perhaps those are all one and the same - and you thought you powered through it well but your failed undercover missions, failed sparring sessions, failed everything proved heartbreak to be the biggest distraction.

Is it fair to call it heartbreak if she doesn’t know that she breaks your heart every time she smiles at you in the most platonic way possible? When she lets him wrap his arms around her every morning, whispering a raspy ‘morning beautiful’ against her neck, against her lips. Is it heartbreak or are you just selfish in blaming her so you don’t have to blame yourself for being stupid enough to want someone you could never have?

“For someone who goes to therapy once a week you sure have a lot on your mind, kiddo.” He pants out once you stand up and shake your hands, jumping left to right to get your blood pumping.

“You’re only a year older than me.” You grunt, throwing a punch he narrowly dodges and drops down to swipe his leg that you easily jump over this time.

“Exactly. What’s on your mind? Distractions can mean life or death on the field.” He says sternly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. Always playing the good American boy, Captain America, the people’s hero. You’ve seen him loosen up and that is the version of Steve you like best. You just need some Asgardian liquor for that.

“I’m having a debate with myself on whether Cheetos are better than Takis.” You playfully tell him, throwing a jab. He grabs your arm and twists you around, putting you into a headlock.

“Doritos.” He whispers and you wheeze, elbowing him in the gut twice making him let go in pain.

“I don’t know him!” You yell out into the training room, catching weird looks from a few stray agents working out. Steve chuckles at your antics and wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. Show off. You do the same, both of you catching glances from other agents - it’s only human to look when two Super-Soldiers have their abs on display.

“Stop messing around. Talk to me.” You follow him to the bench on the side, gulping down half the water bottle he hands to you. You take a seat and sigh. What is your problem? You don’t really have an answer to that yet, but perhaps that's your issue; you need some space and time to really figure out how you feel and how to get over whatever it is that you’re feeling.

“I just need a mission. I need to go on a long mission to get away for a while.” You’d miss Wanda, but it would be the right thing to do. A couple months away from here, away from her. Learning how to live without her in your life so you could come back and put what you learnt into practice. Maybe that would make all of this easier. But you sincerely doubt Maria would let you go on a long undercover mission since those usually have the most sensitive information at stake. You’re at risk of exposing yourself as an agent, jeopardising the whole mission. Even if you were currently on good form she probably won’t send you out of spite.

Steve sighs and stands back up, holding a hand out for you to hold.

“I’ll see what I can do. Now focus, hands up, get into your defensive stance. I’m attacking this time.”

The next morning you show up at Maria’s office with your file and notes in hand, and a cup of Starbucks’ best coffee with a pastry, to find her already there earlier than you anticipated. You were hoping she’d be on time for once instead of ridiculously early so that by the time she’d get here the coffee would be ice cold. Yes, you’re bitter, but so is she, so fair game, right? Nothing wrong with a little playful hate between two people who used to sleep together and now don’t because you moaned out another girl’s name as you came from riding her tongue. Totally healthy.

“You’re early.” She states coldly, barely giving you a glance. You approach her desk with caution, looking around the office you’ve spent a lot of your nights in. She redecorated, changed almost every piece of furniture there apart from the glass coffee table - you hadn’t fucked on that one.

“Well, you know me. Early bird gets the worm.” You crack a cliche joke and she takes a long breath at that, dropping her pen to look up at you, hands gripping the arms of her chair.

“Really? And what worm are you trying to get today?” She stares you down until you crack, clearing your throat and holding up the coffee and bag of food with a nervous grin.

“Uhh…baked goods?” Maria looks at you warily before nodding. You put them down on her desk and bounce back away from her, scared she’ll claw you. She opens the bag to look into it, taking a second before closing it and dropping it back onto the desk. The sigh that leaves her throat is filled with sadness, again. You’ve grown accustomed to that sound and swallow guiltily.

“I hate cinnamon.” Well.

“Oh. Off to a bad start, huh?” You try to laugh about it but her narrowed eyes and furrowed brows silence you as your throat cracks, swallowing the laughter back in.

“Thin ice.” No shit. The tension is so thick anyone would choke if they walk in at this moment. You nod at her, taking that as your cue to leave. Turning around to walk to the door, she clears her throat to stop you. “Y/L/N.”

“Yes, boss?” You turn your head.

“Is this really what you want?” You have no idea what she’s talking about, but her tone is a little softer, eyes not as harsh when she scans you up and down. “Your Captain came by my office yesterday.” Damn Steve. You knew she’d say no, even if Captain America came barging through her door.

“Oh, yeah, totally. But, you know, I thought you’d say no anyway.” Rubbing the back of your neck is a nervous habit and she knows that. She ends the conversation quickly, clearing her throat again and putting on her mask.

“You’re right.”

“Thought so. See you around, Hill.”

By the time you get into your car your head is pounding. It's definitely earlier than you’re used to being up. Your mind drifts back to Hill when you start driving back to the compound.

Maybe if she had told you how she felt about you sooner, you would have been able to develop something. There were plenty of moments, plenty of ‘almost’s, plenty of opportunities for her to just come out and say the words but she never did. You’re not entirely sure if you had felt the same way at any point, but from the very beginning you had written off your relationship with her as purely sexual and you made it perfectly clear to her too.

Maybe it was your fault for that too. Your fault for ending it before it even began. She’d done nothing wrong other than the few times a tear ran down her cheek when you got out of bed and started getting dressed. She’d only broken down in front of you a couple of times, begging you to stay, but your mind was on going back to the compound hoping Natasha would be up training at the late hours you used to spend with her. She’d let out her frustrations about her nightmares, or lack of sleep, failed missions or fights, sometimes Bruce. And you’d let out your frustrations about her.

Maybe Nat is your fault too. You are technically breaking your own heart by pining over her, looking like a kid who dropped her ice cream on the ground knowing she’ll never get to taste it now. You are a product of your own failure, or however the saying goes. Is that a saying? Well, you’ve said it now. You couldn’t keep Hill, couldn’t get Natasha, and it has distracted you enough for you to be failing missions and letting Steve drop you repeatedly in training. Time off sounds like the best plan; even if Hill doesn’t give you a mission you’ll take some version of a break yourself. A vacation.

You didn’t go back to the compound but decided to drive to the park, grab a couple cheap hotdogs to fill you up, and spend your day watching people from a bench. It helps in building characters and coming up with profiles. Watching how a particular person acts and trying to impersonate that, or watching a couple fight from afar and guessing what they’re fighting about, what kind of people they are, who is hiding something and who is naive and oblivious to what is going on around them. You know that Natasha does the same, imitating the voices on the screen during movie nights.

When you get back home you have bags filled with various sweets, chocolates, and snacks to hide in your room. The lift doors open and you’re met with distant screams and shouts distorted behind a closed door. Making your way to the living space, you see most of the team sitting around awkwardly, no one really paying attention to the forgotten movie on the screen. You don’t spot her red locks.

“What’d I miss?” You plop down on the couch next to Wanda who instantly cuddles up to you, hand reaching around your waist which you thought was endearing until she sneaks into your bag, retrieving a small packet of Skittles. “Treachery.” You mumble to her and she giggles against you, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Nat and Bruce. They’ve been at it for an hour already.” Steve sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He hates any sort of drama in the group, and he hid it well in saying it’s for the team’s sake but you all know he just cares immensely about everyone. You’ve always admired that about him; he has a huge heart.

“They’re not good for each other.” Tony scoffs, playing a game on his phone. The screams get louder for a second, Bruce’s manlier voice practically howling out.

“Can you not gossip about our friends, please?” Steve scolds Tony with a glare. He pays him no attention.

“It’s the truth. He’s too soft for her. I bet he doesn’t even spank her.” Tony’s the only one who laughs at that. Red flashes in your eyes for a second, imagining Bruce and Nat doing…that, which you often go out of your way to avoid thinking about. Wanda’s hand is in yours in seconds, squeezing.

“You are disgusting.” She spits out at Tony, accent thick. He peaks his head up after that, rolling his eyes hard. The shouting stops in the background and you faintly hear a door slamming shut.

“Lighten up, Witchy. We’re all friends here. I know for a fact that our Black Widow likes it rough.” You clench your jaw at that, standing up and flashing to him in seconds, a hand around his throat. He wheezes out at the contact, pushing on your chest with a hand and wrapping the other around your arm. “What the fuck is your problem?” He chokes out. Steve’s hand is on your arm to pull you off but your anger is fuelling your strength.

“I get that playing the asshole is your thing, but keep those comments to yourself. Disrespect her again and I’ll rip your head off.” You say with venom leaking out of your voice.

“Okay! Okay, relax, calm down. You guys are no fun.” He groans as you begrudgingly let go of his neck and step back, hands in tight fists as you try to calm yourself. When you turn back around to go to your seat you see Natasha’s teary eyes staring at you curiously.

“Uh, you okay?” You ask her, rubbing the back of your neck. Everyone goes silent, watching the two of you interact from across the living space. She nods silently, wiping her cheeks gently before turning around and disappearing down the corridor.

“That was painfully awkward.” Tony mumbles under his breath but knows you’d be able to hear him. You don’t let him get a reaction out of you, mainly because your eyes are still locked on the ghost of her figure in the dark corridor.

“Should I go check up on her?” You ask, looking down at Wanda. She shakes her head and pulls you down to sit back next to her. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, love.” She gently tells you, cuddling into you again, this time with a hand rubbing soft circles on your hip. She calms you instantly and you think it may be her in your head again bringing happy thoughts to the front, or perhaps there’s no other reason for this apart from the fact that Wanda Maximoff may be your guardian angel.

“Oh. Yeah, totally.” You murmur, sinking into the couch with a pout on your lips.

“I’ll go. Tony, you got Bruce.” Steve commands as he stands up. Tony follows him groaning and complaining.

Had they broken up? Or was it just a fight that they’ll get over tomorrow? You don’t want to get your hopes up, and even if you do you’d feel guilty for being happy while she’s heartbroken.

“It’s okay to feel that way,” Wanda’s gentle voice sounds in the air, perfectly timed after your thoughts.

“Freaky.” You say under your breath. She pinches the skin on your hip.

“You’re breaking your own heart, Y/N.” She’s sympathetic, too gentle and you cower away from that, tone turning a little cold.

“I know.” Despite you being closed off, she still pushes for answers.

“Do you? Then why do you still do it?” You sigh in response, looking up at the spotlights on the ceiling, counting them. You can’t answer the question to yourself truthfully either, so you look to philosophy for answers again.

“To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.” Wanda hums in response, buzzing with happiness at the new quote she can store in her mind.

“Is that the same Russell man?” She asks with a curious smile, lifting her head off your chest to look up at you with those wide eyes of hers. You grin back down at her and brush her hair to the side.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“He sounds very stupid now.” Wanda says with playfully narrowed eyes and pouty lips. You laugh out loud with her, throwing your head back to look up at the lights. Your mind flashes to the singular creaky lightbulb that your nightmares usually start with. Wanda is in there before you can think any further, pushing that memory far to the back of your mind.

“You’re stupid.” You grumble out.

“No, you.” She says teasingly and you gasp and look back down at her.

“See, that right there? What you just said? That’s stupid.” 

“I am actually very smart. Want to know why?” She nods her head stubbornly, waiting for your approval.

“Go ahead, Red.”

“You were frowning. And now you’re smiling.” The small grin on your face turns into a full blown smile at that.

“Huh. Guess you may be a genius after all.” You lean down and kiss her forehead which has her beaming up at you. 

“We interrupting your little makeout sesh?” Tony’s voice suddenly breaks the moment, pulling a groan out of you. You turn your head to see everyone back, including Nat and Bruce who refuse to look at each other. Nat’s eyes are stuck to yours until Steve’s hand on her lower back pushes her forward. While you all watched some new sci-fi movie Tony picked out, your eyes keep returning to Natasha’s small form curled up on the loveseat alone. She catches you looking and gives you the smallest hint of a smile which you return. She’ll be okay.

“We’ve got a mission for you, Y/L/N. Just like you wanted.” Steve had called you into the main meeting room two days later, waking you up with a cup of hot coffee and a bagel. You had no idea what he wanted, but when he told you, the sour mood you were in for being woken up at 8 a.m. disappeared.

“Wait, really? She approved?” You ask in shock. You couldn’t believe it. Hill had made it so clear that you weren’t ready for deep undercover missions. You’d have to find a way to thank her and see what changed her mind exactly. You thought she hated you, but apparently not. She’d just given you a long break away from Natasha.

“Of course she did. You’re a skilled agent, Y/N. No one doubts that.” Steve praises you with a fatherly grin and you can’t help grinning back. His reassurance did a lot in boosting your confidence.

“Thanks, Cap. So, what is it? Where is it? How long-" You burst into questions, buzzing with excitement. Steve chuckles, picking up the binder on the other desk by the computer.

“Alright, simmer down. We’ll go through the details in a minute. We’re just waiting on Romanoff.” He drops the binder on the big table in the middle of the room and you shoot up in your seat, fixing your posture immediately. Why would he need Natasha here? Would she be your supervisor? Handler? Or does he need her here for another mission?

“Nat? What’s she got to do with it?” 

“Isn’t that why you went to see Hill?” Steve asks with a confused expression, matching the furrowed brows on your face.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Morning, Cap. Y/L/N.” Your head snaps to the door at the sound of Nat’s voice. She strolls over to you, planting herself on the chair next to yours.

“Uh, hey. Sleep well?” You ask her as she taps her fingers on the desk impatiently. She turns to you with a tight smile.

“Like a baby.” 

“I don’t get that saying. Babies cry all night.”

“I-Well. You have a point there.” She stutters, taking a second and realising you’re right. The tight smile turns into a small real one that’s contagious to you, both of you letting out soft chuckles.

“Enough chit-chat. You both leave on Friday, so you only have three days to form your profiles, study, and build a dynamic together.” Steve commands, opening the binder.

“Both?” You and Nat say simultaneously, heads turning to face Steve.

“You’ll be going undercover as newlyweds in New Orleans. Meet the Rushmans.”

Chapter Text

She really is fucking clever, incredibly clever, a real manipulative piece of garbage . The second Steve dismissed you and your new undercover wife, you ran out of the room and down the corridor, stopping at the corner to pull out your phone. Angrily, you dial her number and hold the phone to your ear, tapping your foot impatiently on the ground.

‘What are you fucking playing at?’ You spit out once the ringing stops, and can practically see the proud smirk on her face at this reaction she’s gotten out of you, but you can't care less about that right now. The rage inside you is fire hot, a raging fucking flame that’s growing bigger and hotter.

‘Agent Y/L/N. I take it Captain Rodgers informed you of your next mission?’ She says smugly. You clench your fist around your phone but quickly remember you’ll probably break it, so you tighten your other hand around the corner of the wall instead.

‘You’re so-You’re a-I hate you. God, I fuckin-’ You stutter, struggling to turn your feelings into words. The wall cracks between your fingers loudly, debris in your clenched fist and dust on the ground. If she was in front of you, you’re sure you’d see her smirk widening. She’d likely break out into a wicked laugh and throw her head back. You can already picture yourself wrapping your hands around that pale neck of hers.

‘I’m still your superior. Watch your next words very carefully.’ Her tone’s threatening, laced with authority. You sigh and run your fingers through your locks, taking a moment to contain yourself.

‘Why?’ You ask her. What you meant to ask was why Natasha . Why would she send you on a long mission alone with the woman you wanted? Would it not drive her crazy sending you into her arms knowing you two will be loving it up for six whole months?

‘I can’t send you on a deep undercover mission alone. Not while you’ve been going through a series of failed ones.’ She explains, ruffling papers in the background. It still doesn’t answer your question.

‘But why her?’ You press curiously and Maria takes a second or two to clear her throat.

‘An experiment.’ She says quietly, nervously, causing you to growl in anger.

‘What. The. Fuck.’

‘If your performance lately has been poor because of the way you feel about her, then the outcome of this mission will confirm or deny that.’ She has a point if you let your stubbornness disappear for a second, but you’re still beyond livid at her. It’s some cruel form of torture making you spend months acting like Natasha is yours, just for that to be ripped away from you when it’s all over. You broke her heart so she’s breaking yours. Maybe trying to apologise and reason with her would be the best way to approach this. You clear your throat and change your angry tone to a quieter one, calm and collected.

‘Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know how many times you want me to apologise for what I’ve done...but this is getting out of hand. It was sex , Maria, and that’s all it was between us. I made it perfectly clear what you were getting into, and you agreed to it. You can’t blame me for that.’ Your voice shows no anger, transferring every inch of fury to the hand gripping the wall again, pressing hard enough for another small part of it to break off. You hold a groan of frustration in, dropping the piece of concrete down with a loud thud. Stark won't be pleased with you for that.

‘I told you how I felt.’ Her voice comes out shaky, filled with emotion, but you’re convinced it’s another manipulative stunt to try and control you, a fucking ploy.

‘Crying every now and then isn’t telling me how you feel! Talking is. Communicating is. I can’t believe you’re punishing me like this. This is so fucked up.’

‘I hope you have a great six months, Y/N. Try not to fuck this up.’ Back to her cold tone, she gives you a goodbye, abruptly ending the conversation.

‘Fuck y-’ She hangs up before you can finish. “Fuck!” You scream out, punching the wall, breaking a much larger chunk of it off. Really fucking clever. She’s always known how to push your buttons. You shove your phone into your pocket before turning around the corner, only to bump into Natasha who’s standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the wall. “Oh. Hey.” You mumble, avoiding eye contact. You’re not sure how much she’d heard of that.

“You and Hill?” The redhead asks, head tilted curiously. Her narrowed eyes scan you up and down, stopping to watch the broken skin on your knuckles heal at a rapid pace. Now the cat’s out of the bag. No one really knows about the two of you apart from Wanda. It was mainly Hill that pushed to keep it secret, something about professionalism, but you were always so sure it was simple embarrassment and humiliation. Being with you would ruin her reputation, sleeping with someone so beneath her. A commander sleeping with her soldier. Her ego is one thing you couldn’t stand.

“Oh, that was-Uh. Well.” You stutter out and curse yourself for turning into a babbling mess whenever Natasha would speak to you. You just never really figured out where to look. Your eyes would reveal everything if you’d look into hers. Not only that, but glancing at her neck, her chest, legs, anywhere; your eyes would be filled with desire, adoration, emotion. Maybe you are a terrible actress.

“I thought you-Well, never mind that. Meet me at noon in meeting room 3.” Natasha cuts herself off, deciding not to tell you what she had initially thought, and she walks away as soon as she finishes her demand, giving you no room to deny her.

“Oh, sure. Totally.” It’s going to be a long six months.

Maybe you can convince Wanda to mind-wipe you or something. She can do that, right? She can mind control you and make you forget how badly you want to kiss Natasha Romanoff.

“Nope. I mean, I could, but it only works if I'm physically close to you. It wouldn’t hold.” You’ve gotten used to Wanda speaking out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You two often sit in silence, sometimes having a conversation in your mind, or she just listens to your thoughts, intrigued by every single thing she hears in there.

“This is crazy. Maria is crazy.” You sigh, lowering the volume of the TV in your room. Wanda hesitantly turns her head to face you.

“Y/N, I think this could be good for you.” Wanda says with a wary grin. You roll your eyes at her and sink back into bed with your arms stretched and your hands folded together behind your head. Her eyes linger on your flexed biceps before she pushes off you to rest on her elbow, looking down at you. Her dark hair flows, brushing against your arm.

“How could this possibly be good for me?”

“Maybe you need to be around her to accept that you need to move on.” She says comfortingly with a sympathetic smile. She always feels the heartache in your chest whenever your eyes land on Natasha.

“You think I haven’t tried? Being around her just makes my feelings even more intense.” Your mind drifts back to the redhead. When you first laid your eyes on her it was an instant attraction. She’s beyond stunning without really knowing exactly how beautiful she is. Natasha's always used her looks and her body as a weapon, so the whole concept of beauty has been blurred in her mind. Not knowing how special she actually is...that’s something that adds to her beauty. The shy looks she sometimes gives you, the blush on her cheeks, the biting of her bottom lip when you compliment her out of nowhere. You thought you had a chance because she never reacted like that with anyone else - at least you hadn’t noticed it. But then Bruce quickly made a move and you learnt they’ve had history. You stood no chance in the first place.

“That was when you first came here. It’s been months. You can move past this little crush if you spend time with her and try to be her friend and nothing else.” Wanda traces a finger along your arm up to your face, cupping your cheek in her hand. Her rings are ice cold against your face, contrasting how warm her palm is. You snap your head to the side, playfully pretending to bite her earning yourself a cute giggle.

“I don’t know. I just can’t see anything but disaster coming from this.” You sigh as Wanda groans and smacks your abs gently. She shifts until her head lies on your chest, arm wrapped around your waist. She likes listening to your heartbeat sometimes, hearing the pace change depending on what you think about.

“Stop being so pessimistic. Where did all of your philosophy go, wise one?”

“Call me that again and I’m deleting your Netflix profile. Good luck remembering what episodes you’re on.” You threaten with narrowed eyes. She gasps dramatically and pinches your hip, knowing it doesn’t hurt - either way she’d never hurt you.

“You are pure evil.” She looks up at you, eyes light and green and they remind you a little of Nat. But different. Good or bad different, you don’t know yet. But they’re always so soft and gentle when they’re trained on you.

“You love it.”

“Nope.” She giggles and shakes her head, hair brushing over your cheeks. You flip her over in a second, smirking as she squeals into your ear. You pin her wrists to the side of her head with a victorious smirk.

“Admit it. You love the corruption, the danger, the thrill. I’m bad .” You teasingly and theatrically exclaim, leaning closer to whisper into her ear.

“Oh, so bad. Impossible to get any crueler than removing my profile . Someone come save me!” She puts on the roll of the damsel in distress, gasping and whimpering.

“You can try to save yourself, no one’s hearing you scream from here!” You laugh out an exaggerated wicked laugh, tickling her side.

“Y/N! Stop it!” She giggles, gasping as she tries to push your hands away. She twists and turns under you and you only stop when she uses her powers to flick your hands, making you lose your balance. You fall on top of her with a huff, body flush against hers. “Evil.” She breathes out against your neck, her hands resting on your upper back, fingers trailing up and down like they're on autopilot when they touch you. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head at the soothing feeling.

“So evil.” You lean up and find yourself impossibly close to her face. Her breath is hot against your lips, your eyes naturally flickering down to her open mouth. She really is breathtakingly gorgeous, sculpted like an angel, eyes a dark green, so deeply filled with so much love you swear you could stare into them for the rest of your life. Wanda hears your thoughts, your sudden desire for her. Her eyes widen in shock for a moment before she hesitates and leans in slightly, matching your excruciatingly slow pace towards her lips. Her nose brushing against yours shifts you back to reality, making you jump away from her, rolling off the bed. “Go! I should should go. Nat asked to meet me at noon.” Oh God. Your eyes dart everywhere but at her; you can feel her eyes boring into the side of your head and start shifting uncomfortably side to side.

“Oh...okay. I’ll see you later? For dinner?” She sighs out before smiling hopefully. You give her a tight smile in return before practically running out of the room.

What the hell was that? Wanda just…tried to kiss you, and you almost let her. You two have always been impossibly close, cuddly, and intimate. But you ruled that down to the fact that she’s your best friend, and you’re hers. You two shared a deeper connection - everyone sees it every single day, catching you two glancing at each other with soft smiles, Wanda clinging onto you for a cuddle or hug anytime she could - but was the connection a romantic one? Had it been that all along for her? For you?

The last thing you ever want is to hurt Wanda the same way you hurt Hill, so the right thing to do would be to talk to her about whatever that almost-kiss was as soon as possible. But what if it ruins your friendship? What if you misinterpreted it? She knows how you feel about Natasha, knows you have a complicated thing with Hill, knows the ins and outs of your life and your mind and the way you think and feel and what do you know? You’ve only ever been in her mind a few times when she let you, mainly to show you some deep memories that haunt her at night, mainly because she couldn’t form the words to describe what she had been through so it was easier to show you. She knows how you feel about her, even subconsciously, but you know absolutely nothing. Other than the love you read in her eyes. But that's friendship, right?

You know you love Wanda and care for her like no one else. Maybe it was just a quick and rare moment of attraction. You got caught up in the moment and she is a really beautiful woman. What confuses you is you didn’t want to fuck her; you wanted to kiss her as softly as you possibly could. You wanted to hold her and touch her with smooth hands, gentle lips, to…to make her feel as beautiful as you know she is.  You can’t be thinking about this now and complicate your friendship with her. Quickly, you push the thought to the back of your mind and make your way to the meeting room half an hour earlier than Nat told you to meet her. You did storm out of your own room so you really have nowhere else to be anyway.

You didn’t expect to walk in on Natasha with her back to you, bent over the desk to reach for a piece of paper she’d laid out on the table.

“You’re early.” She speaks up, sensing your presence. The redhead stays bent over for a second and you think you see her actually arch her back further but perhaps that was just your imagination.

“Had nothing else to do. So, what’d you want me here for?” You close the door and lean back against it, arms crossed over your chest. The redhead turns around with a raised brow, smirking as she sees where your eyes darted away from.

“Prep? We only have three days to get ready.” She pulls a chair out and gestures for you to sit in it.

“Oh, right. Forgot about that for a hot minute.” You laugh out nervously and sit down, clammy hands brushing over your jeans. Just being around her has you hot and sweaty; it may be her body heat as she pushes herself against you from behind, leaning over your shoulder to grab another stray paper.

“We can make our own profiles if we’d like. They’ve already given us ideas, but it doesn’t really matter if we make adjustments.” She leans against the table and you look up at her trying to keep your eyes on her face instead of trailing down to the swell of her breasts stretching the tight tank top she’s wearing. She has to be doing this on purpose.

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Sounds awesome.” You gulp and look up, internally praying for God to give you a little bit of strength to endure the next hour.

“You haven’t read through them yet, have you?” She raises a brow and you give her a cheeky grin to which she rolls her eyes at.

“Nope.”

“What have you been doing with your time for the past three hours then?” You tap on the table trying not to smile at the memory.

“Was with Wanda.” Now you’re thinking about Wanda while you’re with Nat? But you think about Nat while you’re with Wanda? Nothing is making sense anymore; how the fuck did your world change in a matter of minutes?

“Doing what?” Her jaw clenches a little as she turns her head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“Just in bed. What’s with all the questions?” She tenses up after your response, shoulders dropping subtly a second later.

“Sorry. Let’s go over the profiles now then, and we can make some stuff up along the way.” She spins around to pull the chair out and sit herself down, shuffling through the files on the table. You can sense the discomfort in her posture, the tension in her jaw and her rough hands filtering through the papers.

“Right…Is everything okay with you?” You ask, leaning forward.

“I’m fine.” Cold tone, short answers; she’s not fine.

“You don’t sound fine, Nat.” She rolls her eyes at you again, her head snapping to face you.

“Don’t act like you suddenly care.” She spits out, slamming the papers down.

“Woah. Where’d that come from?” You chuckle nervously, sitting back and rubbing the back of your neck. You hate arguments. You hate arguing with her, making her upset or angry or anything other than happy. You don’t want to assume, but there’s no other reason she could be in a bad mood today other than the arguments she’s been having with Bruce all week.

“I-I don’t know.” She stutters out, sighing and looking over at you with a guilty expression. You nod your head at her as an ‘I forgive you’ gesture. You’d always forgive her - plus, she’s so hot when she’s mad.

“It’s totally fine. I get that things are tense right now, you know, with, uh, Bruce and stuff. You can vent to me if you’d like. I’m all ears.” You try to make your voice as sincere as possible, noticing the puffiness in her eyes, the bags that she’s covered with makeup in an attempt to hide her exhaustion.

“I’d rather not.” She hardens her expression.

“Totally fine too. Also, acting like I care is what I’m supposed to do as your wife now, no?” You tease and draw out a small smile from her that tugs your heart strings.

“Good point. Okay, my name is Natalie Rushman and-What?” She says reading from the file she put between the two of you. You let out a snort at the wordplay, and she lets out a frustrated huff.

“Nata-lie. Get it? Lie? Because we’re lying about-Okay, not funny. Continue.” The glare she sends you pauses you in your tracks, gulping down your laughter. Wanda would have laughed.

“I’m a lawyer, we met at one of my work parties. You were a bartender at the time, writing on the side hoping to get published one day.” She states from the paper but you’d rather add a little bit of life to it. Maybe some drama. The possibilities are endless. You butt in before she can continue.

“You hired me as your assistant to get close to me because you found me so unbearably attractive you just had to see me everyday.” She rolls her eyes and grins at that, turning to face you as the two of you brainstorm together.

“I let you spend most of your work hours writing because I loved it when you burst into my office reading a particularly good paragraph or chapter you wrote.” Wanda likes when you quote random stuff to her from the endless literature you’ve read.

“You made the first move.” You demand and Natasha scoffs at that, lifting a perfectly plucked brow.

“No, you did.”

“Oh, come on. You’re the big time lawyer.”

“And you’re the oh-so-romantic writer.” She narrows her eyes, waiting for you to yield. You’d always let her win anyway, loving the victorious smile she gives you. You love any smile on her.

“Fair point. I made a move by reading out a piece I wrote that is so obviously about you and your deep, forest green eyes, your pink lips that I dream about feeling on mine. And then you kissed me.” Your eyes linger as they gaze into hers, painfully obvious - despite the exaggerated tone - that you’re speaking from truth at this point. Her eyes drop from yours to your lips but they’re gone as quickly as they flickered down.

“Then I kissed you.” She looks back at the papers. You read the paper too, focusing on the words her finger follows.

“So, that’s how we met, and how we got together. Now I’m a journalist? Ah, I don’t like that.” You’ve encountered plenty of journalists since you’ve joined the Avengers; all of which are leeches that have no respect for your privacy. You’ve even met a few back in your spy days and can say that they’ve only gotten worse with time. 

“Why not?”

“Journalists are snakes who would do anything and betray anyone to get a good story. I am a writer and would never stoop that low to tarnish the art of literature.” You put on a voice, acting like you're ‘Reagan Rushman’. It’s a nice name, you’ll give them that. But the  journalist story is not one for you. You suppose that’s the whole point of these missions; you have to be someone you’re not. Maybe Reagan Rushman can pretend to fall out of love with Natalie Rushman.

“Okay, no journalism. I’m sure S.H.I.E.L.D. can fabricate a few best seller novels for you.” Natasha says while taking down some notes on the side of the paper.

“No, I want a bookshop. Let’s say we moved to New Orleans for its rich history. I’ve just opened a bookshop while I’m working on my novel inspired by New Orleans.” She crosses out ‘journalist’ and replaces it with ‘bookseller’ after giving you an ‘are you sure’ look.

“Hill isn’t going to like all these changes. Sounds like a lot of money.” Natasha sighs out with a small smile.

“She’ll make an exception.” Her smile drops instantly.

“Of course she will.” She murmurs, turning her body away from you, clenching the pen in her hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrow together in confusion. 

“However you meant it.” Oh. Oh . She’s referring to the conversation she overheard.

“I didn’t-I didn’t mean it like that . We’re not sleeping together anymore.” You don’t know why you’re trying to justify your actions and sex life to Nat, maybe because you hope this is jealousy that you’re seeing.

“I gathered.” 

“Do you have a problem with me?” You think it might be professionalism more than anything else, especially when Natasha turns to you with a cold look, the manipulative spy in action.

“Did you sleep your way onto this team?” She spits out, not mincing her words in the slightest. You look at her with your mouth hung upon, disbelief written all over your face. Does she think that low of you? You’re shocked that the first thing that goes through her mind is that.

“What?” 

“I get that you’re enhanced, but you’ve been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for years. And you’re terrible at undercover missions, you don’t take orders well, you-” You cut her off. Not only did she insinuate that you slept with Hill for ulterior motives but that you did it because you’re not good enough to be on this team. You’ve had enough criticism from being harsh on yourself, enough from Steve telling you to ‘get up’ over and over again, from Maria brutally insulting you in every debriefing. And now this? This hurt more than anything else; her thinking of you in that way hurts .

“Did you seriously just ask me if I’ve whored myself out to be here?”

“Y/N, I didn’t say-” You cut her off again the second she tries to defend herself. She already said what she wanted to say. Now she’s made it clear what she thinks of you, how she feels about you. 

“That’s exactly what you’re saying, Romanoff.” You stand up abruptly, gathering whatever files you can, sifting them into the folder.

“You implied it by saying she’ll make an exception.” Natasha says stubbornly, still not seeing anything wrong with her words. You scoff at her, turning to face her with red cheeks, wide eyes and creased brows.

“Because she owes me for putting me on this mission with you! She knows you’re the last person I’d want to go with.” You burst out, glaring at her. She sinks in her chair, looking down to avoid your eyes. You can tell she's already feeling a little guilty for being impulsive, but you're too angry to do anything but storm out right now.

“Oh.” 

“I’ll read through the files and make some notes. We can discuss our changes tomorrow or some other time.” You sigh, kicking your chair under the table and slamming the door on your way out. What a shit fucking day.

You can't see Wanda. You can't see Nat. You can't see Hill. There isn't a single person you can go to, so the only thing you can do is bottle your emotions and thoughts up. The only healthy way to let them out is fight and fight and fight until your body begs you to stop. Stepping outside, you see Clint walking to the Quinjet in his combat outfit. Perfect .

“Hey, Birdie! Where you goin’?” You run after him, jumping on his back. He catches you with a grunt and chuckle.

“Stop calling me that. And a quick mission. Data collection and wipe of an old small HYDRA base.” He tells you after he drops you back on your feet, turning around to face you with a grin. 

“How long?”

“Should be back by tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. Why?” He raises a brow at you, crossing his arms. You cringe at the sound of leather rubbing against each other.

“Let me join you.” You demand, eyes begging him to let you come along. It’d be the perfect trip for the day, the best way for you to let out your emotions without having to speak about them. Throwing yourself into mission after mission is what you used to do until you started messing up, mind distracted with thoughts of Natasha. You hated going on missions with her because you would always be trailing behind her, asking where she is, if she needs backup. It was embarrassing how much you cared, so much so that you often missed the influx of aliens or whatever enemy was coming from behind you.

“I can handle it on my own.” He rolls his eyes at you and moves to turn around but you grab his arm.

“I know you can. I just need to get out of here for the day.” You beg, pouting a little. He scans your face with narrowed eyes before sighing and nodding.

“Sure. Go pack your bag quickly. I’ll tell Hill you’re joining.” He gives you a warm smile as you smile widely and start running backwards.

“Awesome. I’ll be back in a minute!” When you get back to your suite you rush into your walk-in closet where you keep a bag of essentials for missions: clothes, weapons, a little food (mainly protein bars) and Powerade. You change into your Crusher outfit - a skin-tight charcoal grey suit with thin white stripes that double up as lights you can turn on if you need them in the dark. You initially hated the name HYDRA gave you once you developed a pattern of crushing heads after a few missions, but it stuck.

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?” Wanda steps into your room timidly, hands playing with each other in front of her, lips pouty and eyes almost watery. You drop the bag on the floor and face her with open arms, forgetting the awkwardness the moment you see the sadness in her eyes. She hesitantly steps forward into your arms, hugging you around the waist before tightening her grip. You wrap your arms around her shoulders, pulling her in deeper and breathing her in.

“Just going with Clint for the day. Easy mission; I'll be back in a couple hours.” You whisper loud enough for only her to hear, even though there's not a single person close-by. The tension in her body leaves after that, sighing in relief against your chest.

“Oh. I thought you were leaving with Natasha.” She says quietly, almost hesitantly, not knowing how you would react to this confession. You’re oblivious to what’s between the lines, the hidden meaning to her words. You tense up though at the mentioning of Natasha, remembering what she had said about you. You know Wanda is in your head now by the anger radiating off her with her fingers digging into your lower back, furious at what Natasha insinuated in thinking you weren’t good enough to be on this team. That you’d…you’d use your body like that to get here.

“Still got a few days until then, darling.” You chuckle and trail your fingers up and down her spine. She takes a shaky breath, breathing you in.

“I’m going to miss you.” Wanda confesses in a soft voice, pulling on your heart strings.

“Wan-"

“I mean when you leave with her. I’m really going to miss you.” She sniffles, rubbing her face into your chest a little. Your hand moves up to rest on the back of her head. She leans into your touch. It hits you that you haven't really thought of that - a whole six months without Wanda. You’re so used to her being around you all the time that she’s literally become part of you at this point. You can’t really imagine having to go that long without her rushing into your room to tell you about a new book she’s read, you walking into the kitchen when you smell her cooking from all the way across the compound, you two with your limbs intertwined on the couch during movie nights ignoring the curious looks from the rest of the team. She’s your best friend.

“I’ll call you as much as I can, Red.” You try to reassure her with a smile but that turns into a frown when she pulls her face away from your chest to look up at you with tears running down her face, eyes wide and so incredibly sad you can’t help leaning forward pressing her nose to yours, holding her face in your hands.

“It’s not the same.” She whispers, shaking her head. You wipe her tears away with your thumbs, brushing her wet cheeks. She leans into your touch with a sigh, eyes flickering down to your lips briefly as you speak.

“None of that, okay? Why don’t you go out today? Go to that gallery you’ve been wanting to see.” You give her a smile and she gives a watery one in return with a choked laugh.

“Yes. I can do that.” She nods eagerly, already thinking about the photos she’d take and send you, the ones you’d alternate your phone wallpaper with every week or so. You didn’t understand that concept at first, but you saw Wanda’s lockscreen of a selfie of the two of you, so you changed yours. It made her blush and smile, so you did it every week with a new photo.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Okay?” Your eyes flick between hers, scanning to make sure she’ll be okay. You won't leave if she asks you to stay.

“Okay.”

“Behind you!” You yell out when you see a man sneaking up to Clint. He turns and expertly shoots an arrow, electrocuting him.

“Thanks.” He grunts out, shooting arrows every couple seconds. The HYDRA agents go down like flies. You grin wildly as you dodge an agent’s slow jab, ducking to uppercut him watching him fly up in the air, falling a couple feet back. Sensing one coming up behind you, you flick your arm up making his nose crack against your fist. He cries out in pain, bending down to hold his bleeding nose. You turn and collide your knee with his chin, sending him on his back. “Maybe I did need you here.” Clint jokes as he comes up beside you, putting an arrow back into the holder on his back.

“You’re getting old, Birdie.”

“What did I say ab-" He groans but you cut him off with a cheeky grin, walking backwards and stepping over the bodies of passed out agents.

“Your memory’s gone shit too? Already forgetting how I never listen to you.” He rolls his eyes at you again, huffing as he shoves past you playfully, making his way towards the small base. It’s only two floors, way smaller than the usual buildings you’ve infiltrated.

“Let’s go inside.” You march side by side, waiting at the door as he scans the inside of the room, an arrow stretched out in front of him defensively. “Clear.” You stroll in after him, glancing around the room and listening in for any sounds of footsteps or people breathing. You hear none on this floor.

“What room is it?”

“Second floor. You go up and I’ll look around this floor.” He hands you the chip to collect the data from the computer database. You nod before beelining to the staircase.

The stairs creak as you walk up and you pause in your tracks, listening for any movement upstairs. Maybe two different sets of footsteps. You can handle that with ease. You soften your steps as you climb up, head peeking up to glance around. You see one agent with a rifle looking out the window far ahead. The other is nowhere to be seen so you sneak your way around the floor, finding the data room. You shove the chip in and wait until the loading screen pops up telling you the progress of the download. You decide to let it hack while you go and take care of the agents, but the second you step out of the door, a cold fist collides with your cheek, throwing your head to the side banging against the door frame.

“Fuck!” You groan out, head ringing, eyes blurry. Before you can even recover, the cold fist grabs you by the hair and drags you along the floor. You thrash and fight, scratching along the metal but it doesn’t stop his movements so you twist your body and swipe his legs. He falls onto his back with a grunt as you quickly flip onto him and start throwing punches, cracking the mask covering the lower half of his face. “Clint, did you pack a tranquilliser or something?!” You yell into the comms, punching over and over again as he grunts beneath you, mask flying off. “W-What? How?” You stutter, fist pausing in the air. He faces you with a cold glare, blood running down his nose. Bucky. You should have known from the arm but your vision was still blurry, mind still foggy. He grunts and collides his head against yours hard. You groan but let out a huff of laughter, doing the same to him, hearing the ground crack behind his head. He's not winning this one.

“Should have something on the jet. Why?” Clint speaks out.

“Bucky’s here.” You grunt out as he grabs your fist in his metal hand, squeezing. 

“Wait. Steve’s Bucky? Metal arm winter guy?” Bucky twists your arm, shoving you off him. You fly back and drop onto a table breaking it - you're not sure if the loud crack was the table or your back. This isn’t how you expected this mission to go; you wanted to kick ass, not get your ass kicked.

“Yes! Go get something! Quick!” Bucky’s on his feet marching towards you with purpose. You twist and turn your body as he drops his fist, missing every punch and growling in frustration and annoyance. You kick at his ankles and he falls forward. You take the opportunity to throw a powerful uppercut as he drops down, sending him flying onto his back. “Calm down, bud. We’re friends, right?” You try to ease him as he growls at you, fist colliding with the ground as he stands up. You did know him, both of you being HYDRA experiments. You’d fought together occasionally under HYDRA's control, but you haven’t seen him since you left. It took months of mind probing, electrocuting, and experiments until S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to bring back your memories. That didn't stop the nightmares though.

Bucky stares at you with empty eyes, clenching his jaw and stepping forward again. You sigh and know he won’t stop until he’s knocked out; it's what he's been programmed to do, what you were programmed to do. You ready yourself for his attacks, fists up and one leg in front of the other. He runs towards you and you use what Steve did to you during your last training session; you slide down and swipe his ankles, but quickly punch him in the gut with everything you have as he slips back. He falls through the ground, arms grasping at anything but there’s nothing for him to hold onto. You rush to where you left the chip, seeing it at 100%. Grabbing it, you notice the other agent you saw stood in front of the door now, shaky hands holding his gun.

“Really?” You raise a brow at him and he gulps before raising the gun with more purpose but you’re in front of him in seconds, crushing the rifle barrel in your hand, hitting him in the face with the butt. He whimpers pathetically and you roll your eyes at him.

“Little help down here!” Clint’s strained voice rings into your ears and you quickly kick the agent in the face before he can crawl back onto his feet.

“On my way.” When you get down to the first floor you see Bucky stood over Clint with his hand around his neck. You have no choice but to pull out your gun and shoot him in the back of his thigh, watching him let go with a groan and drop to one knee. Clint gasps for air, coughing as the colour rushes back to his face. “Inject him, idiot!” You scream at Clint, running towards them and wrapping your arm around Bucky’s neck into a chokehold. He hits you on the side of your head with his metal arm and fuck it really hurts but you keep your hold on him despite how blurry your vision is. Clint quickly pulls the needle out and injects Bucky in his other arm. Within a few seconds his punches slow down and he falls against you. “Shit.” You mumble, dropping to the ground and holding your head. 

“You okay? Hey, you can sleep on the jet. We gotta get out of here.” Clint tells you tapping your cheeks lightly, enough to have you open your eyes. You nod at him and help him lift Bucky out of the base. When you reach far out enough, Clint presses the remote in his pocket and the building explodes behind the three of you. The second you get back on the jet, you pull your suit down to your waist and collapse onto a medical bed, murmuring something to Clint about injecting Bucky with more to keep him asleep for the whole ride. You need the rest.

“Hey, Y/N, wake up. We’re back.” Clint's face comes into view as your eyes flutter open. He’s smirking at you as you groan and stretch your muscles. Your head still hurts, the swelling gone down a little as it heals, but it’s still sore. “Not invincible, I see.” He teases, bruising your ego as he glances over your bruised body.

“Sorry, did I not just save your life?” You croak out as the Quinjet lands and comes to a stop. You sigh and lay back on the bed, groaning every few seconds at the throbbing pain. You hear Steve’s worried voice discussing with Clint and he’s by your side in a couple seconds, smiling down at you proudly.

“You sure took a beating.” He chuckles and crouches down to inspect your face, wincing at the bruises and dried blood. You give him a glare at that.

“ I beat him . He’s the one passed out right now.” You gloat with a proud smirk and he laughs at your antics, standing up to cross his arms over his chest. He glances back to Bucky who’s being rolled out of the jet to be taken to a cell.

“Hey. Thank you.” He says sincerely, eyes shining a little. You know how much Bucky means to him and can’t help but think of how terrible it would be if Wanda was gone like that. Or Nat.

“It’s no problem, Cap. Hang in there though. It’ll take a while to bring him remotely close to who he was.” You remind him, mind drifting back to the long process of torture you’ve endured to kill whatever evil was programmed into you.

“You sure you're still up for your next mission?” He asks worriedly but you quickly nod your head. Now that you think about it, it wouldn’t be that bad to get away, even if it’s with Nat. Things are getting… confusing with Wanda, and maybe you need an escape from her too - just some time to figure out what you’re feeling. Plus, a change in atmosphere would be nice.

“I’m fine. I’ll heal by tomorrow.” You dismiss him and he nods and walks off. As you sit up you hear a gasp and turn to see Wanda stood there with a hand to her mouth. She rushes over to you, falling to her knees in front of you and taking in your injuries. “Hey, I’m okay. I can practically feel how worried you are.” You tease her with a laugh and she pouts with those glossy pink lips that your eyes linger on for a second too long. Her soft green eyes scan you and you already know she’s sifting through your mind when her eyes start tearing up, seeing your fight with Bucky. “Darling, please stop that. Please . You don’t need to see that.” You beg her and take her face in your hands, soothing her.

“I thought it was a simple mission.” She asks with an angry tone. She’s not really angry at you, rather the situation, but she lets it out on you and you let her.

“It was . Just didn’t expect to see him there. I won though.” You wink at her but only get a glare in response. Just as she’s about to speak out with another protest, a flash of red catches your attention. You turn to the side to see Natasha walking onto the jet, hands buried deep in her pockets. “Give me a second.” You mumble to Wanda, your attention all on the redhead looking at you with a guilty expression. You stand up with a hiss and walk over to her.

“Congrats. You’ve officially bested the Winter Soldier.” She says playfully with a smirk and your grin widens at that acknowledgment.

“Finally! Someone said it. Everyone’s all worried as if this is the first time any of us have been hurt.” You exclaim with a laugh and stretched out arms, and Nat laughs lightly before clearing her throat and looking up at you biting her lip gently.

“I get why they’re worried.” She says quickly and you tilt your head curiously.

“Hmm? And why’s that? I can handle myself.” 

“It’s not about your strength. It’s about you. You’re pretty…you’re pretty great.” She stutters a little but gets it out eventually, avoiding your gaze. You’re not stupid; you can read her body language and know that she’s somewhat nervous around you now. You don’t understand why, but you can’t help the wide smile and warmth that takes over your body.

“Are you saying you’d cry at my funeral?” You tease with a smirk and she rolls her eyes, shoulders dropping the tension that was pulling them up.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” You two laugh together before silence takes over. You clear your throat before rubbing the back of your neck with a sigh. 

“Look, I wanted to apologise for-" You start but she stops you with a quick shake of her head.

“No, it’s me that needs to do that. I was so rude to you, completely unprovoked.” It’s surprising hearing Natasha Romanoff apologise to anyone . Even when she’s in the wrong she rarely says sorry for it, rather choosing to be stubborn.

“It’s-It’s alright, Nat, I get why you would think that about me.” You stutter in shock before smiling sheepishly at her. It’s understandable for her to assume that you’d sleep your way onto this team, mainly because she just found out that you slept with the boss.

“But I don’t think that about you, Y/N. You’re a great agent and you prove it every single time you put your life on the line for this team, for the people out there we’re trying to keep safe. I was je-upset. About Bruce. And I let it out on you. I’m sorry.” You notice the pause and mix up of words, but assume she meant to say ‘just upset’. Wanda, sitting on the bed awkwardly, knows better, seeing right through Natasha.

“I get it. Thank you, really, it’s alright. You know you can talk to me about that kinda stuff, right? Or just…come to me if you need a distraction from it.” You offer her and she smiles at you a little hesitantly, looking down as her red waves fall from behind her ears to cover her eyes. Your fingers itch to tuck those strands behind her ear, lean in and just kiss her. You just want to feel those lips that look so soft , you want to slip your tongue into her mouth and have her moaning against you, tugging on your hair. Wanda pulls herself out of your head when she starts seeing those images.

“I know. Thank you, Y/N. Are you going to be okay with meeting tomorrow at noon again?” 

“Yeah, totally. I’ll bring my list of demands.” You say teasingly and she giggles, shaking her head.

“Go get some rest.” You salute at her in a playful manner. She smiles and hesitates to move for a second before stepping forward, now invading your personal space. You raise your brow curiously, looking down, and your breath hitches at how close she is to you. You can see the green specks in her eyes, her pupils dilating slightly as she looks up at you.

You’re unsure of what to do until she leans in and wraps her arms around you softly, hugging you. She’s impossibly warm against your body and fits so perfectly into you. You wrap your arms around her and pull her closer, eyes closing at the feeling, taking a deep breath of lavender, of her . She’s only ever hugged you maybe once or twice after a victory, but those were quick hugs she gave to everyone on the team in the spur of the moment. This is different, so different, and you want more . But she pulls away quickly, smiling sheepishly with tinted cheeks before turning around and speedily walking off.

“Woah.” You murmur with a dopey grin on your face, watching her figure as she sways away from you.

“Keep it in your pants.” Wanda speaks up, trying to sound playful but there’s a hint of something else in her voice, a little frustration. You sigh in content and move to sit back on the bed, leaning against the wall with a wide grin. You’re on cloud nine, still feeling the heat of her body against you. What makes it better is that she initiated it. “This doesn’t look like getting over her.” Wanda observes.

“It’ll take time, I guess. No rush. We’ll see how the next six months go.” You shrug your shoulders and relax as Wanda moves around the jet with purpose, finding a rag, water bottle, and a bucket. She empties the bottle into the small bucket and wets the rag, sitting on the bed with you. What you didn’t expect was for her to turn her body and climb onto you, straddling your lap. Your breath hitches a little as she shifts to get comfortable and starts to clean the blood and dirt off your arms first.

The subtle cinnamon scent is all you can smell, breathing that comfort in deeper. You try not to think too deeply about it, knowing she might be in your head right now, but you can’t help wondering if her scent is merely comforting and familiar to you, or if it’s…intoxicating. Maybe she's the intoxicating thing with her green doe-eyes, always soft and gentle towards you, her hands always touching you in some way to feel closer to you, taking care of you, nursing you. Is this what friendship looks like? Because you sure as hell wouldn’t want Clint sitting on top of you like this right now. She snorts from above you and that’s how you know she’s reading your mind. “Stop that.”

“No. I like your thoughts.” She says stubbornly with a grin and subtle lip bite.

“It’s unfair.”

“Life is unfair.” She says teasingly. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as she wipes the rag over your head, cleaning the blood away. The warmth has you closing your eyes, letting her cleanse you. You don’t notice when she drops the rag until she readjusts on your lap and suddenly her hot breath is closer, almost against your lips. You open your eyes wide to look into hers, her hands draped over your shoulders. Her fingers gently glide against your muscled back and tense shoulders; Wanda sits up a little more, her dark locks framing her face. “Do you really think I’m intoxicating?” She whispers, raspy tone, accent thick, eyes turning a little dark with her black eyeliner bringing even more attention to those seductive greens. Fuck. Oh Fuck .

“Wanda…” You whisper back, almost groaning, almost moaning . She rolls her hips gently, innocently, just to sit more comfortably, but the movement has your eyes wanting to roll to the back of your head. You keep them trained on hers though as she keeps them locked onto yours, yearning for a response.

“Do you?” She asks again, voice above a whisper now, more sure of herself, leaning in closer. Her forehead touches yours and leans against it, trying so hard to resist connecting your lips. The cinnamon becomes something you don’t just want to smell but to taste. But you can’t . Not like this, not now when you’re leaving so soon for so long. Not when you’re still unsure of what you want, who you want, and what you’re truly feeling.

“I-I don’t think we should-" She cuts you off before you can finish, desperately shaking her head.

“I can wait.” She claims, smiling widely.

“I don’t want to ask that of you.” You say gently, voice smooth but pushy enough to tell her you really don’t want to hold her back.

“You’re not.” She insists, leaning in again brushing her nose against yours. Your breath hitches, sharing the air in the little space between your lips and hers.

“And if I come back and…and I still feel the way I feel about her?” Hesitantly, you bring up Natasha. She leans away at that, far enough that you don’t feel her breath against you anymore. Her hands still rest on your shoulders, fingers unconsciously rubbing soft circles like they always do when they're on your skin.

“Then we’ll still be best friends. We’ll just…touch each other a little less.” The second she says that your heart drops in your chest and panic fills you. You’re so close to her, always so close to her, and just the thought that she’d be any less affectionate than she is now fills you with fear. She smiles as a pink blush rushes up her neck, hearing how badly you want to be near her.

“No, no, I don’t want that.” You beg, leaning closer, breath lingering against her collarbone.

“Y/N…” She breathes out, almost panting, sitting up as you hold her in your arms, wrapping around her waist tighter. Her hair falls over the two of you, swaying from the wind coming in from the open door of the jet.

“I’m a selfish asshole, I know. But I-I care about you. And I’m just so confused right now and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.” You trail on with your brows pulled together.

“But…” She sighs, knowing there is always a but. You smile sympathetically, not knowing what else you can offer her. Having to do this breaks your heart but what else can you do? You have to be fair to both of them.

“But you and I are close and we’ve always been close. I’ve never thought much about that until now. But just that one hug from Nat was…” You’re not entirely sure what it is about her, but hugging her made you feel almost giddy, like a kid when her crush talks to her for the first time.

“Better.” Wanda answers for you, clenched jaw and a shaky voice.

“No, that’s not what I said.”

“It’s okay.” She gives you a sad smile and moves back a little to distance herself from you but you don’t let her; you wrap your arms around her waist tighter.

“I don’t mean better, I mean different . Look, we’ll go on the mission and I’ll be forced to confront my feelings. By the time I’m back I’ll either be ready to move on or…I don’t know, I guess there’s a chance I could just…fall harder.” You know you don’t even need to say anything because she can literally see the bolts and screws turning in your head. Wanda knows how you feel, she just wants you to figure it out on your own.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to lose you.” You beg one last time and she nods at you, planting a long kiss on your forehead.

“I know.” You sit in silence as her eyes flicker across your face. You wait for her to say something, anything , but she stands up instead and makes her way out of the Quinjet. “You should get some rest.”

Chapter Text

Building a believable romantic dynamic with Natasha was one of the easiest things to do because you barely had to act. This was a free pass to look at her like you’ve always wanted to, holding nothing back and letting yourself truly admire her. You and Natasha had decided your version of training was interacting like this around the others. You got to be the one to hug her from behind during breakfast, calling her Mrs Rushman like you’d just gotten engaged to the love of your life.

Steve was impressed by your performance, giving you hope that you could actually succeed with this mission. Tony was a perv, as per usual, making jokes to Clint who smirked along with him. You had barely seen Bruce for the past two days, only once in passing but he refused to meet your eyes. And Wanda…well, Wanda was failing miserably at hiding how sulky she is over this. She told the rest it’s simply because she’ll miss you when you’re gone, but the way she’s avoiding you tells you it’s deeper than that. The way she looks away and stares at her lap when she sees your hand in Nat’s or you two laughing together, smiling at each other…that tells you that it’s a lot more than just missing you.

Friday came soon enough and you and Natasha planned to leave at 6 a.m. to make it there at a reasonable time, catching attention when you move into your new place and hopefully be able to get an early interaction with the targets. The mission was simple enough to just infiltrate their lives until they let you in on their secrets, giving you enough proof and perhaps a confession to be able to lock them up. Stolen jewels is what the file says, but that was all they really had on them. It could easily be mere speculation at this point but Hill had been sure enough that Mr and Mrs McNeil are the prime suspects.

You and Nat move in perfect synchrony as you load up the Quinjet with your bags, making sure everything is ready and in order. You tick everything off the checklist - well, Nat did - and are ready to go, but not before saying goodbye. You had to go say goodbye.

“I gotta say bye to Wanda.” You sigh, hands on your hips looking at the compound, taking in this environment that you’ll definitely be missing over the next few months. Nat walks up beside you and nods, shoving her hands into her pockets.

“I should probably do the same with Bruce.” You both turn to each other with soft smiles, agreeing to meet back here in a few minutes. You make your way into the building silently, ride the lift in silence too as tension began to fill the both of you. It’ll be hard but at least you’ll have each other. You break away to go to your separate destinations. Wanda’s door unlocks immediately, recognising your face as approved for her room, and you walk in quietly towards her unmoving figure on the bed. You love being in her room because it's just so her with candles scattered all over, worn-out books stacked on the windowsill, the red leather jacket hanging on the coat hanger that you found out was actually Natasha’s. She has a photograph with everyone on the team, all hung up on her wall, all from various missions, and all completely happy to remind her that it does get better. She lost her family but gained one too. Your framed photo with her is on her nightstand. It was a selfie you took while giving her a piggyback ride at the park. Her smile’s wide and bright with her head over your shoulder and dark locks shining a little in the sunlight. Your head's turned in the photo, facing her a little with a smile equally wide, both of you mid-laughter.

“I don’t want you to go.” Wanda whispers when she feels the bed dip, leaning into your touch as you brush your hand through her locks. She opens her eyes, tears spilling freely. You can tell she hasn't slept. “Please don’t go.” She begs, lips shaky as she pouts, breath staggering almost like seeing you is the final trigger for her to start sobbing.

“I have to.” You whisper, heart aching for her. You’ve seen a lot of horrible things in your life, but seeing Wanda Maximoff cry was by far one of the hardest things to look at. “I’ll call you every single night, Red. I’ll tell you about my day and the crazy people I see. You can tell me about Clint’s latest prank and the book you’re reading.” Trying to joke with her does nothing to her mood; the sad pout and frown remain on her face stubbornly.

“It’s not the same. I can’t feel you when you’re miles away.” She shakes her head stubbornly, reaching a hand up to your cheek. Naturally, you lean into her touch and let your eyes flutter for a second before keeping them open to lock with her teary eyes. You can’t help the strong and heavy feeling of guilt that takes over you. She has the rest of the team but she’s nowhere near as close to them as she is to you. Your heart aches just thinking about her sitting on the couch alone, cuddled up with a blanket that provides no heat or comfort compared to you.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, darling.” You lean down as she sits up a little, burying her face in your neck.

“It’s not your fault. It just…sucks.” She says, trying to laugh but she chokes and sniffles instead, not being able to see any positive from this. You soothe her with gentle touches, fingers running through her hair and up and down her spine. You hate this.

“Those who have never known the deep intimacy and the intense companionship of happy mutual love have missed the best thing that life has to give.” You quote and she immediately pulls back to look at you, finally a hint of a smile on her face and excited eyes.

“Russell? What does that mean?” She asks, head tilted. What does it mean? You just know you felt the need to say it just now. It means a lot more than you want to admit right now, but she needs to hear it.

“It means you are the best thing that life has given to me. Don’t forget that.” She grins widely, leaning in to brush your noses together. Making her smile is your favourite thing to do. You sigh against her, matching her smile and the blush on her cheeks.

“You’re so sweet.” She mumbles teasingly, hands resting around your waist.

“Shush. Don’t ruin my rep.” You playfully growl and shuffle until you're laying down on the bed with her on top of you, head on your chest.

“What should I read while you’re gone?” She looks up at you with those big, curious eyes, wanting to make you proud with all her new knowledge when you come back.

“Philosophy?” She nods. “Guess you gotta start with Plato, Aristotle, Socrates. Then there’s Hume, Locke. Then the Germans, of course, with Kant and Nietzsche. And definitely Russell. That's just the canon though. Laozi is one I want to teach you.” You list, looking up at the dark ceiling. Nothing is as good as your own life experiences though, your own intelligence developed from independent thinking. Dependency was something programmed out of you, until this team, until Wanda.

“I wouldn’t need to read anything if you were here.” She mumbles, leaning up further, forehead close enough for you to kiss softly. She wanders through your mind one last time, seeing flashing images of herself: Wanda falling asleep cuddled into your side while an old movie plays on in the background, you looking for Wanda on missions making sure she’s safe, Wanda’s smile and her little nose scrunch from across the kitchen island. Just Wanda. The smile on her face widens even more.

“I know. But I’m not always going to be here. I wish I could, but-”

“To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.” The warmth that takes over you is unexplainable. It’s like she’s turning into you, taking on everything that you say and everything that you do, learning from you. You love it. You smile down at her proudly and she leans up a little more, nose to nose.

“You’re learning.” You whisper, eyes flicking between her tired eyes.

“I think I understand it now. I need to…to be without what I want so I can really appreciate it if I do get it?” She says nervously with furrowed brows and instantly smiles when you proudly smirk at her.

“When you get it.” You reassure her and see a flicker of hope in her eyes as she tries to lean further in, head tilting a little to the side. Her breath tickles your lips but you can’t. Not yet. Not like this. You don’t know what you’d do if you got to taste her lips now and have to suffer a whole six months without feeling them again. “I need to go, love.” You whisper and she frowns again, pouting and tearing up once more. “I wish-”

“I know. It’s okay. You have to go.” She interrupts and sighs with a sense of defeat before rolling off you and standing up next to the bed. You follow her up, taking her hands into your own and pulling her in one more time, resting your forehead against hers.

“I do.” She leans up on her toes to wrap her arms around your neck. “There's only an hour time difference. I’ll call you when I get there.” She nods and takes a moment of silence before deciding to lean in just a little more, so close, but the shuffling outside the door turns both of your heads. Natasha stands awkwardly outside the open door. She catches eyes with you and gestures to the lift before walking off.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” Wanda sighs, stepping away from you and wrapping her arms around herself.

“Bye, Red.” You walk to the door, turning to give her a last smile before walking off and shutting the door behind you. What confuses you is most of that wasn’t even different to how the two of you usually interacted. You were always cuddled together, always giving each other eskimo kisses, but it all feels different now. After she almost kissed you, everything changed and you’ve been rethinking your entire friendship. Has she always wanted you like this? Why didn’t she make a move earlier, why now that you have to leave?

“You can get some sleep if you want. It’s only 4 hours but it’s better than nothing.” The redhead offers the second the door to the jet closes. The two of you make your way over to the pilot seats at the front, locking yourselves in safely.

“Don’t you want some sleep?” You turn to face her, noticing the slight bags under her eyes. You could always tell when she hadn’t slept - most of the time you just knew because you hadn’t slept either and both of you ended up in the training room at the earliest hours of the day.

She’s already dressed in navy blue suit pants and a white button-up top - really taking on the lawyer role - while you opted for chinos and an oversized top. You were going for some level of ‘educated hipster’ is what you told her. She laughed at you and helped you pick out outfits to buy yesterday when you went shopping. Everything was paid with the S.H.I.E.L.D. card so of course Natasha spent hundreds on suits.

“I can sleep when we get home.” Home. That’s it, then. New Orleans will be your new home for the next six months of your life. You just hope you’ll have a better understanding of what or who you want by the end of it.

You wake up earlier than you wanted to, with an hour left until you land. Even then, you’re landing on the outskirts of the city to cloak the Quinjet on a field and drive the U-Haul van S.H.I.E.L.D. have provided for you to make the move look more believable. They’re even making you stock up the house - although you didn’t get to choose how the interior would look like.

A soft humming is what stirs you from your slumber and you open your eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh sunlight. You recognise the song immediately just from the humming, but when she starts singing the words a full-blown smile makes its way onto your face.

“Is that Ariana Grande?” You hold in your laughter, almost snorting at Natasha's startled figure.

“Shit.” She jumps up at the sound of your voice, blushing at being caught. “I-Shut up.” You make your way up to the front of the jet, sitting in the seat next to her with a smirk on your face. She avoids your gaze with pink cheeks and a not-so-subtle lip bite to hide the smile begging to stretch wide.

“Oh. My. God. The Black Widow likes Ariana Grande? Who would have thought.” You tease, stretching your legs and arms with a groan. Her eyes flick over to you, glancing over your tightened neck, the veins popping out as you hold your breath for a second or two before releasing with a loud whine.

“No. Natalie Rushman likes her.”

“ Sure , I believe that.” You roll your eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’ll hold that over her, it’s too good to ignore - and totally adorable but you’re on this mission to lose feelings, not gain them. “We still got an hour. Wanna take a nap?”

“No, I’m okay.” You nod your head and sigh, looking out through the glass windows. You see nothing but the clouds and the sun. Is this what freedom looks like? Just…flowing through the sky without a care in the world, nothing to worry about, no one chasing after you. You remember Wanda telling you a story about Pietro who genuinely thought clouds were bouncy and he wouldn’t fall through if he fell onto one. “Can I ask you something?” Nat suddenly speaks up with hesitation.

“Sure, I love answering questions.” You grin at her cheekily, brows wiggling. Nat laughs with you - or at you - and rolls her eyes. They’re shining in the direct sunlight, green and bright. Her red waves turn into flames that you’d let burn you over and over again. Maybe you’re already letting her.

“That’s weird.” 

“ You’re weird.” She chokes out a laugh before clearing her throat and finally asking her question.

“Are you and Wanda together?” What? Where did that come from? Why would she even want to know?

“I-What? What makes you say that?” You stutter, freezing up, a little taken aback by her sudden interest in your love life. You’re flattered if it means what that little 1% of you filled with hope thinks it means, but the rest of you knows it’s more likely to be friendly conversation and curiosity.

“Oh, come on .” She scoffs, raising a perfectly plucked brow at you. “You two are together all the time. You’ve practically melted into one person.” You can’t really argue with that. You’re sure your body must have a Wanda-shaped dent by now.

“She’s my best friend. And we both happen to be affectionate people.” Your best friend. The absolute closest person to you, the most important person to you. Did you really misinterpret it? Or is it one of those cliche best-friends-to-lovers stories you’ve read about? Are you falling for her? Oh God, this whole situation is fucking with your head and the last thing you want is for it to ruin your friendship with Wanda. 

“So…what was I interrupting in Wanda’s room earlier?” Oh. Right. She saw that. She saw Wanda almost kissing you and you almost letting her, again . It’s like you can tell yourself whatever you want to say, scold yourself and force yourself to stay in control, but it doesn’t matter. The second you see her eyes so deep, so beautiful, those lips always either pouty or stretched into a smile, that laven-no, cinnamon scent that invades your entire body…you lose all forms of control. Truth be told you've been pining over Natasha for months, but one day of this new awakening with Wanda and you've had more almost-kisses.

“I…can’t really explain that. It’s complicated. Why are you interrogating me? I should be interrogating you right now. You and Bruce have been arguing for weeks.” The soft line of her jaw sharpens at the mention of her boyfriend, shoulders tensing up, hands clenching for a second before she puts her facade back on and relaxes, turning to face you with an expert fake smile. Not expert enough for you.

“Guess that’s complicated too.” You can tell she didn’t want to talk about it but you push further anyway. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s because you want her to get used to coming to you and opening up to you over the next few months. Maybe hearing about him and her together would make it easier for you to accept the fact that you can’t have her.

“Are you still…together? I assume it’ll be hard to deal with you being here with me for six months pretending we’re married.” She clears her throat in response.

“He understands. It’s work.” She says with eyes on the…sky? It’s not a road and it’s on autopilot, you’re way above the clouds with nothing to look at but blue swirls and the sun. She’s just avoiding you, avoiding the questions, avoiding your attempts at prying into her life. Her dismissal of this mission as just ‘work’ causes a slight pang in your chest, but you know that’s just you being unreasonable. It is work.

“Just work.” You mumble and clear your throat before staring into the sun. It was her turn to glance over at your features and you pretend not to notice her, internally grinning at the fact that you have her attention. She waits a couple of seconds before breaking the silence.

“Have you ever actually written before?” Random question. Not what you expected, really. But you have. You’ve been writing in a journal for as long as you can remember, even when you started spying for the government. You stopped at some point when you were under HYDRA's control but after Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to capture you and restore your memories, you started writing again.

“What?” You ask, a little confused as to why she was asking you about it.

“Well, you’re posing as a writer. And you’re going to be writing a novel there, right? Requires a certain level of skill.” You turn to her with a raised brow and teasing smirk.

“You do know I’ve lived for a century, right?”

“Uh huh.” She murmurs mockingly with a huff, trying to hold back her laugh. She doesn’t hide it well and you don’t bother hiding the wide smile on your face.

“I’ve done a lot with my borrowed time.” You tell her with a sigh, tapping your fingers on the dashboard.

“Did you like it?” You hadn’t really thought about that since you haven’t written in a while. But now that she brought it up…you kind of miss it. You suppose there wasn’t really a need to write in a journal anymore since you barely do anything exciting. You barely have anything terribly heavy that you need to let out, and even if you did Wanda was there. She’s always been there ever since you joined the Avengers.

“Writing? Yeah, sure. It’s like…I don't know, it makes me feel powerful. Creating all these characters, these people and forming their stories, their dramas, their love lives. Their life and their death. I’m like a creator. But when you’re done…it’s just finished and that’s it, you know? They don’t really exist. Just a figment of my imagination.” You’ve written about these characters, these people, but they’re not real people. Sure, there may be someone out there that resembles them or has their stories by chance, but it’s still fake. And do you really learn anything from that if it all came from you? The lessons you write are from within anyway. Reading is better. 

“I prefer reading.” Nat says, almost like she was just reading your mind. You turn to her with a smile, glancing at her soft lips.

“Exactly. It’s like living-”

“Multiple lives.” She finishes your sentence with a small smile and you’re left stuttering, taken aback. You’re used to this with Wanda, but not with Natasha.

“I-Yeah. Exactly like that.” You haven’t spoken for this long before without it being entirely professional in some sense. It feels like you’re getting to know her more just to find out you have more in common than you initially thought. And she’s not scurrying away from the conversation, she’s the one who initiated it. “But yeah, I can totally write. I prefer poetry, but novels are fine, I’ve written a few. Or tried to.” And with a content hum, that was the end of that conversation. You didn’t want to push your luck so you stayed silent until you landed, cloaking the jet and taking over the moving van from the agent that was waiting for you.

The hour drive is mostly in comfortable silence. You decided to drive to give Natasha a little break, sneaking a few glances at her resting frame, her head leaning against your soft jacket that she stole and folded. You think she always looks good, but when she’s sleeping it’s just…special. She’s calmer than usual with a smooth face rather than all scrunched up, stressed and defensive. You can admire her soft features, her perfectly plucked brows, her plump lips pouty as she dreams. You know without a doubt that you’re in love with her. But why? Because you think she’s beautiful and want to be around her all the time? You also think Wanda is beautiful and you want to be around her all the time. At some points, you needed to be around her all the time for the sake of your broken mind that only Wanda could mend.

Wanda is someone you care about an immense amount, more than anyone else. But you thought that was just intense friendship. You care about Nat and it’s almost obsessive how you’re always checking up on her in ways you think are subtle but they probably aren’t. You’re always first by her side if she’s ever down on the ground during a mission, checking up on her and carrying her to safety if need be. But you also look out for Wanda. Not as much - probably because you know that with her powers she can take care of herself - but you still do look out for her and take care of her after missions.

You’ve always wanted Natasha from the moment you laid your eyes on her, but she’s never wanted you. Not that you know of anyway. Wanda’s new. With her eyes a darker shade of green to Nat’s, her cute nose scrunch, her lips almost always stretched out into a smile when she’s looking at you. She’s...maybe she’s what you need . What you’ve always needed.

You reach into your pocket and slide on the circular glasses Tony had given you yesterday before he left with Pepper for a small vacation. The world lights up the second you put them on and a grin creeps its way onto your face. This is going to be fun.

“Oh let me get that for you, sweetheart!” You rush over to Natasha, taking the box you know she’s more than capable of lifting herself. You give her a sickeningly sweet smile that she matches, pecking you on the cheek as a thank you - the only reason you’re not jumping up and down is because you’ve been practising being a couple for days. Walking into the spacious home, you whistle a tune and drop the box labelled ‘appliances’ in the kitchen. You rush back out to help Nat.

“Hiya, neighbour! I’m Rebecca, that’s my husband, Seth, over there. Welcome to the neighbourhood!” An enthusiastic blonde appears by your side holding a tray of cookies that your mouth waters at. You’re surprised they made the first move to you - and surprised that she has freshly baked cookies at hand for this. Criminals tend to hide and keep to themselves, but not Rebecca with her bright smile and piercing blue eyes.

You look over her shoulder to where she pointed, seeing a tall man with a beer belly struggling to tuck his shirt into his suit pants. His beard is all patchy, hair ruffled, clearly just gotten out of bed. You’ve already made up your mind about who runs this operation.

“Oh, God, chocolate chip? How'd you know they’re my favourite? Must have read my mind!” You grin widely and lower the box in your arms gently, feigning a struggle. “I’m Reagan. That’s my stunning wife in there, Natalie. Lovely to meet you.” You give her a wide smile, holding your hand out for her to shake. She scoffs and drops the tray onto the box, pulling you into a hug. You barely have time to catch a breath, huffing out a laugh at her forwardness. This may be easier than you initially thought.

“Honey? I’m off to-Who’s this?” He grumbles, stumbling to her side and coming to a stop when he sees you. He towers over you with a cautious look, arm around his wife protectively. You notice her smile tightening at that touch, already locking that into your mind to note down later.

“Reagan, our new neighbour. Reagan and her wife Natalie just moved in. Isn’t that lovely?” The blonde gives you a cheeky smile with her nose scrunched up for a second. Your mind flickers to Wanda’s cute nose scrunch for a brief moment before shaking that out of your head. This is work . You can’t lose focus.

“Great.” He murmurs, uncomfortably shifting and barely reaching your eyes after his wife’s introduction.

“Seth! Please excuse his manners, he’s a grouch in the morning.” Rebecca slaps his arm and he glares at her for a second, clenching his jaw before walking off to his car parked outside their indoor garage. Ford. Nothing too fancy to be causing any suspicion. Smart. He doesn’t seem too happy with that though, slamming the car door hard.

“Oh, aren't we all?” You laugh it off, giving her a sympathetic look to which she smiles and nods. You’re already establishing a connection to her. But too much would raise suspicion. “Thanks for the cookies! I’ll be sure to return the tray later.”

“Oh, it’s no rush! Do you need any help with moving everything in?” She offers, already leaning down to pick up the tray, but you lift it before she can, giving her a smile.

“I think we’re finishing up soon, but thank you, I appreciate the offer, Rebecca.” The blonde sulks a little at that, obviously desperate for friendship or connection now that her husband’s driven off. You’ll make sure to take advantage of that later on, but now all you want is to move your stuff in and get some rest.

“It’s nothing! Anyway, I’ll let you get to it. Pleasure meeting you!” Rebecca walks backwards with a wide smile and her hands locked in front of her.

“You too.” You wave her off with a chuckle, handing the tray over to Nat when she walks up to you. You lift the last box and follow her into the house, kicking the door shut. “Damn, that was a long drive, babe. Why don't we take a bath together?” You keep the act going, walking over to the kitchen. Nat tilts her head, brows scrunching together curiously, a little confused. 

“What are you-”

“Oh, come on, you don’t wanna rest for a little?” You tap the side of your glasses and turn on the tap. “Soak in the bubbles, come out all soft and-Okay. F.R.I.D.A.Y. scan for bugs.” You turn around and smirk at Natasha who has her mouth hung open, clearly impressed. You aren't as bad at this as Maria has made you out to be.

“All clear, Miss Y/L/N.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells you and you grin, giving Natasha a thumbs up.

“Thanks, doll.” You turn around to turn the tap off and flip back around, finding Natasha has stood up off the couch and is now by the fridge. She leans against it, arms crossed over her chest. The suit she’s wearing makes her look ridiculously hot and you try to shake the thought of your head but fuck she’s gorgeous.

“Impressive. Where’d you get the glasses?” She opens the fridge and sighs when she sees it’s empty. S.H.I.E.L.D. really went out of their way to make this believable. They’ve half-furnished the house, leaving the rest in the van for you and Nat to do. You’ll have to go grocery shopping too.

“Tony. Where else?” You answer with a huff, turning the tap on to cold water to wash your face, hoping it’ll wake you up a little. You’re always exhausted after flying on the jet.

“Good point. I am pretty tired, actually. And hungry.” Nat’s stomach growls after her words, making you both laugh a little at the weird coincidence. You smile at her cheekily, pulling the plastic wrap off the tray on the island.

“Cookies?” She rolls her eyes, barely glancing at them. “Oh, they might be poisoned.” You gasp dramatically, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to scan again. She gives the all-clear so you bite into a chocolate chip cookie, moaning at the taste. Your eyes roll to the back of your head so you miss the way Natasha’s eyes bore into you, glancing over your neck as you throw your head back, your mouth letting out exaggerated moans, eyes shut tight in pleasure. Her heart beats in her chest, lips parted slightly before shaking out of it and clearing her throat.

“No. I’ll go to the store.” The green-eyed beauty starts walking out of the kitchen but you grip onto her hand and pull her back. She doesn’t fight away from your touch, having gotten used to it over the past few days with your practised domesticity at the compound. But she does glare at you.

“Shouldn’t we go together? Domestic and shit.” You raise your brows up and down, biting your bottom lip. She rolls her eyes again, sighing this time at your antics.

“Isn’t that overdoing it?”

“Not really. It’s Friday, right? Grocery day. We’re newly-weds, darling, we’re supposed to be attached by the hip.” You exaggerate by pulling her closer to you, wrapping your arms around her. She gasps at the quick movement, almost falling into you. Hot air tickles against your neck as she breathes in before pushing away from you and walking up the stairs with a sway in her hips.

“I’ll get into something more casual. You already look homeless.” She says playfully, voice echoing as she goes up. You gasp dramatically and walk over to the stairs, following her.

“Hey, what the fuck? I’m a hipster! Don’t diss the fit, sis!” You smile as you hear her laughter flowing down the stairs.

“Oh, God, I’ll kill you before they do.” She says with finality before slamming the door shut.

“I’ll probably let you.” You mumble and make your way up the stairs with a permanent grin on your face.

You’re not that picky with what you eat considering you’ve had to eat anything HYDRA would give you for survival when they captured and tortured you. Now you’re grateful for every bite you can get, every roof on your head, every first breath you take when you wake up in the morning.

You didn't eat anything they gave you for the first few days. Anytime you'd hear that clang of metal as they opened the small rectangular hole, throwing a tray in, you’d push yourself up against the wall. Knees up against your chest and arms wrapped around your legs, you'd glare at the tray of vile, beige mush. It wasn’t until you passed out a few days later that you woke up with a painful feeling in your throat. Your eyes shot open to see the agents above you holding you down, one of them shoving blended up food into the plastic tube they stuck down your throat.

“Do you drink cow milk or not?” Natasha asks, snapping you out of your brief flashback into your past. Wanda’s usually the one who brings you back, sometimes pulling you away from your memories before you even know that you’re about to think about them.

“Huh?” Nat’s bright green eyes look into your own, her head tilted as she holds a carton of milk.

“I’ve never noticed what you prefer. I’ve switched over to almond.” She says with a small grin and a quirk of her brow, seemingly proud of herself for that switch. You’re unsure of what she’s even talking about, zoning out half the time when Wanda used to talk to you about wanting to go vegan or try to change her diet. You shut her up quickly, telling her she’s perfectly fine the way she is, knowing the main reason she wants to change is for social approval or to 'fit in'.

“I don’t bother with these new...alternative stuff. I’m fine with regular. Or whatever you prefer. I’m not picky.” You’re not. Didn’t have the choice to be picky. Even with all these new options now, you get confused and overwhelmed to the point where you just stick to what you know.

“Almond it is.” Nat mumbles and you stroll over to where more drinks are. See, here’s a perfect example. Why the fuck are there so many flavours of Coke? What happened to just enjoying a good old Coke? Now there’s vanilla, mango, cherry, orange. Zero and Diet? As if that’s not the same fucking thing. You grab a pack of regular Coca Cola’s and place it into the cart Nat’s moving. “So unhealthy.”

“Doesn’t affect me.” You roll your eyes at her, walking behind her. You tell yourself it’s just for protection in case someone comes from behind - like you used to trail behind her during missions - but it’s definitely for the view.

“Lucky.” She sighs out, picking out a couple different juices from the shelf. You reach for some cranberry juice but she slaps your hand away and picks the one on the shelf below it. ‘Ocean Spray’. Extra money just for a brand? This is why you shop on your own. Wanda says you have an ‘old soul’ sometimes, forgetting you are an old soul.

“Being like this now is lucky, I guess. The process though? Not so much.” Nat sighs after you say that, turning to face you with her arms crossed over her chest. You can see the crease in her brows, the slight pout only you can spot because you’ve spent so long memorising her facial features, expressions that change subtly with each emotion.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” You interrupt her before she can apologise properly, knowing she didn’t mean anything by that. You rest a hand on her arm, rubbing softly before dropping it and pushing the cart. She follows by your side close, keeping up the role with a few friendly smiles to curious faces.

“I know, I know. I’m just saying.” You stop by the condiments, picking out mustard to which Nat gives you an obvious look of disgust. You like it on your hotdogs. She picks out a red bottle you haven’t seen before, but you assume it’s spicy from the drawings of peppers all over it.

“You don’t have to talk about that with me. But you can . If you wanted to.” She hesitates before speaking up, but says it with no stutters. You’re not entirely sure how to respond because she’s never really spoken to you about your past like this. The whole team knows the basics, most of them too hesitant and cautious to just let a Super-Solider into their team without knowing your history. But actually sitting and talking about it? The only person you’ve done that with is Maria and Wanda - and your therapist. Maria practically forced some things out of you, mainly pillow-talks, vulnerable moments late at night when you’re worn out and lacking self-control. But it all came out freely with Wanda.

“I-Thanks. Now...it’s ice cream time.”

By the time you and Natasha were done shopping, you were both exhausted and ready to pass out. But you still wanted to at least get a look at your new bookshop. You let her rest and headed out with the keys S.H.I.E.L.D. had given you, using their directions to get to your store. It was only a 10 minute walk, very convenient for you.

You can tell that this town comes to life at night. You’ve been to New Orleans before but didn’t spend as much time here as you would have liked, mainly due to the urgency of your mission - and the fact that you were brainwashed so you couldn’t enjoy the stay. You walk by a music store with people standing outside playing their instruments, a crowd of onlookers smiling and clapping along, some joining in and dancing together. There are lights hung up everywhere, giving an atmosphere of celebration despite the fact that there’s no holiday to celebrate. They’re just celebrating life .

Situated between a flower shop and a bakery, your bookstore looks perfect, fitting right into this small street. You give the old flower lady a warm smile as you walk past her, pulling your keys out and unlocking the door. Breathing the smell in is intoxicating. Nothing beats the scent of fresh books, antique books, just books in general. Well, not nothing. Maybe cinnamon. Or lavender. Nat smells of lavender and you know she uses scented oil; you’ve bumped into her at night in the kitchen before she goes to bed, face glowing, cheeks a little red at being caught indulging in something as luxe as skin oil.

You flick the light on and the store comes to life. The open space at the front is exactly the way you wanted it with a medium sized circle wooden table, perfect for you to display new or recommended books. There are only five columns of back-to-back bookshelves but they stretch out far considering the space is rectangular.

Strolling through the space, you let yourself indulge, fingers dragging over the books. S.H.I.E.L.D. has given you a great variety and they bothered to organise the books into genres and then chronologically by the author’s last name. You find yourself at a small philosophy section and your mind wanders to Wanda. You promised you’d call her. Quickly, you pull out your phone and find her under ‘Red’, dialling and pressing the phone to your ear, eagerly listening to the dull ringing. It’s late, really late, and you know she likes sleeping early.

‘You’re okay. I-I missed you.’ Wanda’s voice sends flutters to your stomach. She sounds relieved, letting herself relax now that you’ve called her.

‘I’m okay. I’m sorry I got caught up with shopping and getting stuff for the house. I miss you too.’ You hear her let in a sharp breath after you finish speaking and you can tell from her breathing that she’s tired.

‘Are you having fun?’ Her accent’s thick, voice low and raspy. It sends shivers down your spine. You really miss having her in your arms and it’s only been a day.

‘Oh, you know how it is. It’s work.’ You dismiss her question quickly, knowing she’ll want to know about Natasha. She wants to know if you’re having fun with her, if you like being around her more than Wanda.

‘Work can be fun.’ She teases and you can practically see the smirk.

‘Loser.’ You snort out and imagine she’s rolling her eyes at you.

‘Shush. I can’t slap you right now but I would if I could.’ You glance over the books in front of you, running your hands along them, stopping when you reach Søren Kierkegaard’s ‘Works on Love’.

‘I don’t doubt it. It’s...I like it here.’ You take a moment before saying that hesitantly, hearing Wanda’s sharp breath.

‘Oh.’ She says simply and you hear shuffling on the other end until she’s comfortable. You’re quick to give her other reasons though, straying away from Nat’s looming figure that Wanda can’t help but think of every single time she talks to you.

‘The people. There’s live music everywhere, lights everywhere, friendly faces. They seem happy.’ You don't want to ruin that happiness. Yes, they may be naive to the criminals among them but at least they’re smiling, laughing, dancing. Better than being weighed down by knowledge.

‘You won't-Don’t be scared. You’re not bad , Y/N. You’re just there to do your job. To keep them safe.’ Wanda speaks up, voice a little clearer, more sure of what she’s saying. You stutter a little, confused as to how she just...knows exactly what to say as if she’s in your mind.

‘How did you...can you read my mind through the phone?’ The smile on your face comes with no resistance when you hear her laughter through the phone. It’s contagious, so addictive, practically instant serotonin into your system.

‘No. I just know you.’ She says softly, voice sweet and silky practically lulling you. She knows you. Knows you so well she doesn’t even need to be in your head to know what you’re thinking.

‘Wish you were here.’ You sigh and shut your eyes tight for a second. If you picture it hard enough you can feel her fingers running up and down your spine.

‘Do you?’ Her voice goes a little lower and God this hurts. It’s only been a day.

‘I-I do. Hey, Red, I don’t wanna keep you up. You sound really tired, darling.’ She sighs in response and it’s shaky; you know she’s pouting.

‘I can stay up for you.’ She pleads but you already know that. You don't want her to lose sleep for you. You don't want her to put her life on hold for you.

‘I know. But you don't need to. I’ll call you whenever I’m free later, okay?’ The tone you use is slow, sweet, soothing. She can’t help but give in with an annoyed huff.

‘Fine. Miss you.’ She mumbles quietly, slowly letting herself fall asleep. You listen to her slow breathing evening out before sighing.

‘Miss you too.’ By the time you get back home Nat’s sleeping in the only bed in the house and you’d rather not wake her. You didn’t have time to discuss...that, so you grab a blanket and quietly head downstairs, pulling out your laptop to fall asleep to an old sitcom you had downloaded a while back for Wanda.

Chapter Text

“Morning, Rebecca! Just here to drop your tray back, with a little extra as a thank you. Those cookies were delicious .” You put on the best smile you can when she opens the door with a gasp and a matching smile of her own. Blonde locks are half in curls, the other half straight and surprisingly thin considering the volume her hair had the first time you saw her.

“My, my! These look delicious. Bake them yourself?” Rebecca looks down at the tray of brownies then up at you with a surprised expression. You’re guessing she didn’t expect you to be as friendly as you’re being.

“Ah, I’m practically useless in the kitchen. This was all my wife’s doing.” Definitely a lie. You baked them. Nat’s actually the one useless in the kitchen - Natasha that is, but Natalie apparently bakes to calm herself down when she’s stressed.

“Oh, we all have our talents, don’t we? Please, come in! Make yourself at home. Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?” She barely gives you a second to reject her with a beaming smile and pleading eyes. The blonde walks back into her house leaving the door wide open for you.

“Uh, I do have to open the shop soon but I can spare a couple minutes.” Cautiously, you follow her in, tapping the side of your glasses instantly for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to scan and create a blueprint you and Nat can look at later. “Lovely home! Oh, that colour is fantastic . My Natty’s too scared to do anything but white.” The walls are a light shade of green, almost minty. You run a hand along it and don’t need to fake the fascinated look on your face. You do love this colour.

“That’s a shame. I figured a dashing woman like you would want a little... colour in her life.” Rebecca strolls over to you and gets impossibly close, taking the tray out of your hands. Blue eyes look you up and down in a way that is in no way subtle.

“Oh, she definitely keeps me on my toes. Is Seth here? I wouldn’t want to intrude.” You chuckle nervously, clearing your throat and looking around the room to avoid looking at her. You’re not stupid; you can tell she's lacking attention, both from friends and more. Her husband is clearly an incompetent idiot, you could tell from the moment you looked at him.

“That husband of mine is always working. Only work, work, work. That’s all he knows!” Rebecca rolls her eyes and rushes over to the kitchen. The open plan really looks great. Seems like every house you walk in these days has an open plan kitchen and living room, something you’re not used to. Part of you misses the closed doors, the set rooms with their own use. Open can be... confusing sometimes to say the least.

“Could say the same about Natty. She’s a lawyer.” You follow her with your hands in your brown suit pants. You went for a smart-casual look today with your white tee tucked tightly into your high-waisted pants with thin black suspenders on top. You don’t miss the way she glances over your body, but you pretend you do. You’re married ; you have to act like it.

“Oh, you don't say? Seth works in finance. He’s always marching around muttering numbers under his breath. I can only take so much nonsense - sober that is. After a couple glasses of red he goes quiet in my head! Oh! That rhymed!” She’s a talker. Great. And one that thinks she’s funny too. Why did you have to be the one to see her first?

“Thankfully, Natalie keeps the work talk at work. Where it’s meant to be.” You two laugh together as she brushes over her clothes. Even at home all by herself she’s dressed up in a tight blue dress, heels clicking as she walks around the room busying herself with fluffing the pillows on the couch and fixing a tilted portrait on the wall.

“Amen to that! Say, Reagan, you don’t happen to be free tomorrow night? Both you and Natalie? I’d love to have you two over for dinner!” Her tone is enthusiastic like she’s already planned it, already having come up with a whole menu, a list of get-to-know-your-neighbour activities.

“Oh, I’ll have to ask if she’s working or not. Like I said, work talk at work.” Rebecca frowns at that and you think you might be missing a perfect opportunity for both you and Nat to have a look around, so you try and salvage it before it’s too late. “Oh, to hell with it. Even if she’s working I’ll drag her here!” The blonde turns to face you with a wide smile, so wide it slightly worries you that she might tear her cheeks apart.

“Perfect! Is 7 a good time?” It’s impossible for you to mirror her smile without coming off as creepy so you give her a small one and make a move to look at your watch.

“That’s great. Thanks for the cookies, again , and for having me. But I should really get going.” Heels clicking follow your movements to the door. You turn and have to step back at how close she is to you.

“The shop, you said?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve opened a bookshop just a couple blocks from here.” You answer and rub the back of your neck, trying to make it obvious that she’s making you somewhat uncomfortable. You know she’s no real threat to you, but you have to play the part, and surely she knows that she’s a little intense, right?

“Oh, I assume it’s that spot that was empty? Next to Nanny Bertha? The florist.” Cliche old lady name. Who didn’t see that coming? And ‘nanny’? She must be loved by the whole community. She may be the key to this neighbourhood, you could easily get her to adore you too.

“I haven’t introduced myself to her yet, but yes, I think you have it right. That’s the shop.” You huff out a laugh and she reaches behind you to open the door, her face close to yours again. You lift your head up, your heads almost crashing with the fast movement. You laugh it off and walk backwards giving her a wave.

“I’ll be sure to drop by! Take care!”

“See you soon!” You can feel her eyes on you as you walk away until you turn a corner and let out the breath you were holding. That was insanely creepy. You made your way to your shop, giving a friendly smile and a nod to people you pass by. The second you unlock the door and turn the lights on, you tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call Nat.

‘Bored already?' She answers quickly, smirking on the other line. You hear typing on a keyboard; she’s already working her ass off for appearances. You don’t expect any less from her.

‘Rebecca invited me in. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will send you the blueprints now.’ It’s your turn to smirk, knowing she probably has a surprised look on her face right now. Opening the small box on the floor, you find a load of new books - best sellers, new and upcoming authors, the usual. You start laying them out on the circular table to display them, reading the blurbs at the back quickly so you can promote them to clients that walk in.

‘Well done, that was quick. We might finish up a lot earlier than six months.’ You roll your eyes at how impressed she sounds, her tone belittling you playfully.

‘Well, I’m not as incompetent as Maria makes me out to be.’ Nat lets out a huff, the closest thing to a laugh you’d get out of her this early in the morning. You’ll take that as a win, grinning as you pick up the last book. It’s some teen dystopian book you’ll never read, but for some reason will end up being really popular and turned into a movie. You’ll watch it instead.

‘She doesn’t like you much, does she?’ Nat observes, still typing away. Not something special to observe; any person who watches you two interact can tell that there’s tension. You’re shocked no one else has put two and two together apart from Nat. Well, she didn't actually; she overhead your call.

‘Nope. Hates my guts.’

‘Are you that bad in bed?’ Nat teases and you gasp dramatically, feigning offence. She lets out another huff of laughter and you can’t help grinning at the sound.

‘Only one way to find out.’ You flirt and she pauses for a second before laughing awkwardly, clearing her throat and speaking up. Well. You can only take so much rejection. Maybe you should take a hint at this point.

‘I’ll see you at home.’ The bell on the door rings as the door opens, a young girl walking in. You divert your attention to the teen giving her a welcoming smile, putting on the act.

‘See you. Love you, honey.’ You say in a sickeningly sweet voice, smirking as Nat grunts before hanging up the phone. You pull your AirPods out and stick them back in the charging pod.

“What’s this about?” The girl says, clearly bored as she glances around the shop and chews her gum loudly. She lifts up a book from the table, handing it to you.

“You read much?” You ask her with a small smile, flipping the book over to show her the blurb. Giving you a forced smile, she scans it, clearly not actually reading it, and drops it back onto the table. You don’t like her attitude, but you do find it amusing. You vaguely remember being a teen and you had plenty trying-to-be-cool phases. There are streaks of bright blue in her dark hair that you focus on, noticing it’s probably her way of expressing herself. There’s a lot of ‘expression’ these days - in the 60s too, from what you remember - and while it can be a little much at times, you’re happy to see the progress in the world. It’s a lot more tolerant than it used to be, a lot less cruel.

“Duh. Why else would I be here?” The girl rolls her eyes at you, pulling her phone out of her pocket like most people do these days. In the middle of a conversation nonetheless.

“Because your parents made you leave the house?” She rolls her eyes again, scrolling through her phone with her eyes glued to the screen. You notice the House Targaryen phone case she has on and your eyes widen in excitement for a moment. “You like Game of Thrones?” She glances up with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you a little young for that show?” You tilt your head in confusion, and she does the same but with a mocking expression on her face.

“No?”

“There’s...” You trail off, clearing your throat and looking out the window for her parents, for help, for anyone to walk and break this awkward moment.

“Boobies.” She gasps out theatrically, laughing at your awkwardness. She doesn’t look older than 16, but you go along with it anyway; might as well make a sale, right? You remember seeing the collection when you looked around the store last night.

“Right, yeah, that.” She nods in response and glances back to her phone, typing furiously. “Have you read the books?” That catches her attention. She looks up, phone drooping down as she loses interest in whoever she was texting.

“Oh, there’s books?” How the fuck didn’t she know the show is based off the books?

“I-Yeah! Of course there’s books. Here, let me show you.” She shoves her phone into her pocket, curiously following you to the fantasy section. You search through until your fingers stop at the first book of the series. “Right, so the show is obviously good, one of the greatest. But it’s just an adaptation. The books are insanely good. Don’t be scared of how big they look, it’s all worth it. Every little word, sentence, paragraph is just crafted to perfection.” You go on a little rant, first wanting to just sell it, but you can’t help your passion. It really is a great series.

“Isn’t it just, like, the show? But words? Like a script?” She flicks through the book, going back to the start to look at the illustrated map.

“No, no, no . So different. The show changes some things, leaves out details and scenes because they don’t have the time to add it all in. It’s a way better experience reading it. I’ve read the whole series at least 5 times, trust me when I say you will not want to put them down.” She glances up at you again with hesitant eyes, the defensive teenage bitch face taken down a little.

“Well...the show is good. I guess I can give the book a go. I don’t read a lot though.”

“So you don’t read much, huh?” You raise your brow teasingly, knowing you were right, walking back to the front of the shop to the till.

“Whatever. You want me to buy it or not?” Her attitude is back as she drops the book in front of you, staring at her badly painted black nails. You get the look. Edgy. Wanda used to do her nails like that: rough, messy, emo. Emo Wanda is what Tony used to call her until she changed her style a little - she still wears her rings, still uses dark eyeliner, but she smiles now...and wears colours other than black.

“I want you to enjoy it. Literature is what grows your mind and feeds your soul.” You scan the book with a smile, placing it into a customised paper bag with the bookstore logo that S.H.I.E.L.D. made. They really went the extra mile. Maria’s doing, you suppose - maybe she still has a soft spot for you.

“Intense. Fine. I’ll get it, it’s whatever. I’m not a nerd though.” The girl glares at you a little, but you reassure her with a soft smile, giving her the change from the $20 bill she handed to you.

“Reading doesn’t make you a nerd. Do I look like a nerd to you?” You scoff and step back with your arms held out. She looks you up and down with a raised brow, stifling her laughter. Okay, you don’t look that bad and you know it.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” She laughs at the look of disbelief on your face as you cross your arms over your chest and point to the door playfully.

“Alright, alright, go find your parents, kid.” She walks back with a shy smile and a quick wave, opening the door. “And stop watching naked people!” The door slowly closes as people walking by look through the window at you with confused and judgemental expressions. “I probably shouldn’t have screamed that out loud.”

Surprisingly, you had a lot of customers today, selling over 50 books in just 6 hours. It was pretty easy to engage in conversation with most people and sell the product, already having read a majority of the books in the shop.

You close the shop at 8, making sure you text Wanda a selfie with the columns of books behind you, asking her what book she's read today. Before heading home, you decide to visit Nanny Bertha’s shop to buy a bouquet for Nat. For appearances, of course. You’re not acting only for the McNeils, but the whole neighbourhood.

“Hello? Uh, Mrs Bertha?” Walking into the shop, you look around to find it empty. The bell chimes loudly in the hollow space, slightly ringing in your ears. Strange. Glancing around, you browse the variety of flowers on display. Roses? That’s a big no - way too cliche. Lilies? Maybe...they are used in weddings to symbolise eternal love. Petunias...you haven’t seen those for a while, not since your year long mission in Mexico decades ago. That memory is still hazy to you; while S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to help, they weren’t able to retrieve every single memory. You were wiped on many occasions. That was bound to take a toll on your mind.

“Hello, dear.” A deep voice suddenly speaking up startles you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn to the sound with wide eyes, seeing who you assume to be Nanny Bertha standing bent forward a little, walking stick in her hand. “Ah. You’re the young lady Rebecca would not stop babbling about.” Huh. Creepy.

“I-Yes. I think. I’m Reagan, it’s lovely to meet you Mrs...” You approach her with a hand held out, waiting. She takes a long look at your hand before shaking it with calloused fingers and stretchy skin.

“Ms. And you can call me Nanny Bertha, dear.” She smiles at you, a full set of teeth surprisingly. So, either a widow or unmarried. You suppose a widow is more believable considering her age. Bertha makes her way around you, walking stick thumping on the ground. “Ah. Petunias. Anger and resentment. What, or who , do you resent, Mrs Rushman?” Bertha asks, fingers brushing over the flowers, her back still to you. That question is a little intrusive, so you clear your throat and give her a tight smile.

“Oh, I was just looking.” She turns around, glancing you up and down. You notice the dark shade of blue in her left eye, but the other is black. Pure black. And from what you know, true black eyes don’t exist in this world, not naturally at least.

“For?”

“Just a bouquet for my-my wife .” You hesitate before revealing that. It’s a weird feeling because you don’t understand why you hesitated. Your sexuality is not something you’re ashamed of, not anymore. But something about this, about her made you think she’s perhaps not as welcoming as Rebecca says she is.

“Hm.” Bertha clears her throat, slamming her stick onto the ground as she turns back around. You stay back awkwardly looking around the shop as Bertha puts together a bouquet. She turns to you once she’s done, stepping close to you to look up into your eyes like she’s trying to read you. It’s hard not to cower at her gaze, but you manage to maintain eye contact as she hands you the bouquet and steps back. “This will do. Peonies. I wish you two a long and happy marriage. On the house.”

“Oh, no, I can’t possibly ta-” You immediately burst into protest, but her hand on your bicep stops you in your tracks.

“I insist, dear. Take it as a welcoming gift.” Her grip tightens - it doesn’t hurt, obviously, but you can tell that it’s a tight grip.

“Thank you, Ms B-” She gives you a stern look and gives you a moment to correct yourself. “Nanny Bertha.” Her thin lips tug into a wide smile, head down as she nods.

“You’re very welcome, Reagan.” You walk backwards with a tight smile and a nervous chuckle as she twists her body to keep her eyes locked to you.

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” You’re out of the shop as fast as you can, speed walking away. That was insanely weird. What is up with this neighbourhood? You’re not all that great with old people anyway if you’re being completely honest with yourself. The wrinkly skin, the obvious staring and judgements. You suppose you can’t really have an opinion on that considering the only reason you’re not like that is the serum, experiments, and constant cryogenic freezing. But even when you were younger in the 20s you didn’t believe in what your ‘people’ believed in. You wanted to make your world a better place and hopefully help shape a safer world for the future; that’s the main reason you began working for the government as a spy.

The walk home was quick. You arrive 10 minutes after you left, bouquet in one hand and keys in the other as you close the door behind you.

“God, that Nanny Bertha is giving me weird vibes.” You speak out, seeing Natasha’s figure standing in the kitchen, back to you. Before you can say anything else, she yells out.

“Well, what do you want me to do about that? It’s only been a few days, Bruce, are you going to be nagging me like this for the next six fucking months?” Oh. Well, now’s probably a bad time to tell her you promised Rebecca you’d both be at dinner tomorrow night. “This is different, it’s work! I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself.” You take a seat quietly on the couch, kicking your shoes off and shoving them to the side - off the carpet so Nat doesn’t give you shit about it. You sit there with a straight back, bouquet in your hands, face turned to the side to watch Natasha as her shoulders tense up. The redhead turns her face with a clenched jaw line as she takes in a shaky breath. “Fuck you.” She spits out before hanging up and squeezing the phone in her hand. There’s not much you can do but wait, letting your psychological skills take over as you glance over her features. She’s mad. Well, no fucking shit she’s mad.

“Uh. I got you flowers.” You say quietly as she looks over at you, tears threatening to spill from the pool in her eyes. She sucks them back in as she lets out a watery laugh that you can’t help but smile softly at. You’re glad you can still make her laugh a little while she’s crying.

“Thank you.” She whispers in a croaky voice before clearing her throat, walking over to you and taking the bouquet out of your hands. “You know what these mean?” She sits down next to you, bringing the flowers up to her nose to smell them. You watch her eyes flutter, her shoulders relaxing a little. The flowers were a great idea then, totally worth the weird interaction with Bertha.

“I know the Greek myths if that’s what you mean.” You turn to face her with your hands folded together in your lap.

“Tell me about them?” Her voice is quiet, timid almost, and you’re slightly worried because you’ve never seen her like this, never heard her sound so... scared .

“Sure.” She leans back against the couch, getting more comfortable as her thigh presses against yours. You clear your throat before looking down at your hands, trying to remember the story clearly. “So, we start with Asclepius. He was the god of healing and medicine, Apollo’s son. Apollo was a god of many things - music, dance, archery, poetry, light - but with Asclepius he shared the label Paean.” Her brows join together in confusion a little, so you sit back and hesitate before resting your arm over the back of the couch, getting closer to her. “It means healer. A different god of healing is mentioned in the Iliad; Paieon. A physician to the gods. Now, Paieon was a student, Asclepius’s student. Paieon angered him when he managed to extract a liquid from a peony root to cure Pluto. Asclepius became uncontrollably jealous and threatened to kill him - the dude’s ego couldn't handle his student one-upping him.” Nat lets out a huff of laughter at that, her head leaning against your arm, facing you with tired eyes. “So, Zeus stepped in and saved Paieon before Asclepius could kill him. He turned him into a flower, this flower. The peony, named after poor Paieon, victim to jealousy.” You conclude your story pointing towards the bouquet, glancing at them and then back to Natasha. The tears have disappeared, but her eyes are still sad. You’re not sure what more you can do but distract her. “That’s the main myth at least. The other one’s a little darker, so we can skip that one.” She sighs in response and you can’t help the heavy feeling of guilt in your chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Her brows pull together in confusion.

“Bruce. You...you probably wouldn’t be stuck here if I didn’t...if it wasn’t for me.” Maria told you so herself; she did this as a sick experiment without even taking Natasha’s feelings into consideration. It’s your fault for loving her.

“Hey, I’m not stuck with you. Hill gave me a choice after our meeting with Steve. I chose this.” Oh. That, you didn’t know. But it does make you feel a little relieved. She wanted to be here with you. Even if it’s only as a friend, it feels good to be wanted by her.

“Well, if I had to make a list of who I’d want to be stuck with from Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, you’d be high up on that list.” You tease playfully, nudging her.

“Not first? Rude.” Nat scoffs out, nudging you back. You glare at her, remembering the torture she put you through.

“You made me drink almond milk. That’s not milk, Natasha.” She laughs out loud at that, not bothering to hold back or cover her mouth as she throws her head back. The corner of your lips tug up, not being able to hold your glare at her. Her laughter is free serotonin.

“It’s healthier.” She tells you, standing up to put the flowers away in a vase. Your eyes follow her movements and you stand up almost involuntarily to follow her into the kitchen too. With a hand on the kitchen island, you jump up to sit there, crossing your legs together.

“I’m a Super-Soldier.” 

“You’re a Super-Loser.” Nat counters with a smirk, snorting when she turns and sees your weird position on the kitchen island.

“That was lame. I expected better from the Black Widow.” She groans out as you call her that again. It’s hilarious seeing her all flushed, almost embarrassed at the title.

“Oh my God, stop referring to me like that.” She cringes at that, filling the vase with warm water. She places the flowers into it carefully, looking around to decide where to place them.

“Or what?” You smirk at her, eyeing her up and down. You’re practically challenging her to do something, but she doesn’t give into the bait. Instead, Natasha stares you down with narrowed eyes, leaning in to tug on your suspenders, breath hot against your lips. Fuck.

“Or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She snaps the suspenders against your chest as you gulp loudly and laugh nervously when she backs away with a smirk. She’s just being playful because you’ve been sleeping on the couch anyway, because the goddamn tension is ripping you apart. And out of respect to her and Bruce. Well, what do you do now?

“Have you ever watched Black Mirror? It’s pretty terrifying.”

Three episodes in and Natasha had fallen asleep with her head resting on your shoulder. You were completely frozen in your spot, absolutely terrified of moving in case you’d wake her up. To be fair to her, each episode is an hour long anyway. But you don’t want her missing anything because she did seem to enjoy the show. You pause the screen and turn off the TV, slowly leaning forward a little to place the remote on the table and grab the blanket folded there too. Just about managing to grip onto it, you unfold it and cover Natasha with it, slowly trying to move her head off your shoulder, but she lets out the tiniest whimper, hand gripping your shirt. Letting out a sigh, you lean back, shifting so her head isn’t resting at a bad angle. Soon enough, your eyes flutter and close as you listen to her soft breathing, her lavender scent soothing you to sleep.

Light snoring startles you to the land of the living, forcing your eyes open. They close instantly at the harsh sunlight coming in from the windows around the living room space. You groan as you stretch your arms and lean back, but a subtle whine from above freezes you mid-stretch. Oh, right. Natasha fell asleep on you last night. The two of you managed to shuffle overnight until you were on your back with her on top of you. The second you try to move, she grabs your waist with a hand and scrunches up your shirt in the other. Fuck it, why should you move anyway? Forget peeing, you can hold it, you’ve been through worse. Natasha fucking Romanoff is sleeping on top of you, her warm body flush against yours. And she’s snoring . If you didn’t think she was so goddamn cute you’d be making fun of her right now.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You whisper as quietly as you can.

“Yes Miss Y/L/N.” She whispers back and you snort at that.

“Any texts?” The screen lights up, giving you information about whatever it is you look at. You don’t need to know where the damn ceiling light comes from, so you swipe that all away.

“Two from ‘Red’, one from ‘TinMan’, and one from ‘Stevie’. Would you like me to read them out for you?” You snort again at Tony’s name but swallow the laugh in and clear your throat. Glancing down at Natasha again, she’s still fast asleep, brows furrowed together now.

“Just Red’s.”

“1:27AM: ‘you didn’t call today, are you okay?’. 2:01AM: ‘can’t sleep. wish u were here’.” It’s like you can hear her concerned tone, half-asleep with her thicker accent and raspier voice.

“Ugh.” Natasha stirs and groans from above you, squinting at the light and burying her face in your chest. Her face...in your chest . She quickly moves her head away when she realises she’s practically motorboating you, a light blush on her cheeks.

“Morning, the Black Widow.” She glares at you, eyes narrowed and tired. So fucking cute. “Kidding.” You grin cheekily at her, hand coming down to hesitantly rest on her back. Wrong move. She shuffles to get off you instantly, groaning as she stretches.

“Sorry.” Nat mumbles tiredly, yawning and looking around the room a little dazed and confused. You know she gets like this in the mornings, seeing her leaning on Bruce for support.

“It’s all good, wifey. That’s what I’m here for.” She rolls her eyes at you, walking towards the stairs.

“I need a shower.”

“Grouchy.” She’s already upstairs by the time you sit up and turn your head around. You take this opportunity to pull your phone out of your pocket and FaceTime Wanda. ‘Hey, Red. You doin’ okay?’ She grins widely when she sees you, hair wet, collarbone on show. Oh.

‘Hey! I just came out of the shower, give me a second.’ She places the phone down on the bed - facing the ceiling thankfully . You only see her arms moving up as she puts on some clothes. ‘I miss you.’ She finally says when she sits back against her headboard, pouting at the screen.

‘I miss you, too. So much.’ She smiles, blushing at the way you’re intensely looking at her. You really do miss her, miss being able to just stare at her and memorise her features over and over again whenever you wanted. Miss holding her in your arms, miss feeling her presence in your mind.

‘Oh, I’ve been reading Plato! I learnt something new.’ She grins proudly as you quirk a brow up. You lean against the back of the couch, holding your phone up.

‘Oh yeah? What’d you learn?’

‘Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. I’ve always heard that saying, I just never knew it came from philosophy.’ You let out a snort and she tries to pout but breaks out into a smile instead, giggling a little along with you. ‘Don’t laugh! I just figured it was something people said and it just got around. I don’t know.’ She groans frustratedly in embarrassment but you give her a reassuring smile. She can see the adoration in your expression.

‘Plato also said writing is the geometry of the soul.’ You quote wiggling your brows. She eagerly takes in the new information. If you pay attention, sometimes you can see her mouthing the words again subtly to try to memorise them.

‘Is that why you write?’ 

‘Hmm. Maybe. Who knows? You know, we do things and say things and think it’s all our own independent thinking, but we’re constantly being influenced by the people around us. The things we read, people we meet, even a passing comment from a stranger on the street. Consciously or unconsciously, we’re a product of our experiences.’ She takes in everything you say with a sigh, frowning at how much harder it is being far away from you. It’s easy for the words to come out freely with Wanda, like she just fuels your mind with how eager she is to learn. It just flows.

‘This is so hard. I wish I was in your head right now.’ If she was in your head, she could see the different quotes, different writers and philosophers, memories and experiences you think of when you formulate your words. It made her feel closer to you, the closest anyone could possibly get.

‘I’m sorry, love.’ 

‘Hey, it’s okay. I can wait.’ Your mind flashes back to when she said that on the Quinjet. You can’t promise her anything, especially when it feels like your feelings for Natasha are just growing. 

‘You don’t have to.’ Wanda gives you a soft smile at that, tucking her stray hairs behind her ear.

‘I want to.’ 

‘You’re amazing.’ You sigh, blowing her a kiss. She bites her lip subtly, sighing too, leaning her head back. You both scan each other for a moment in silence before Wanda speaks up.

‘How’s Nat?’ You’re not sure if you even want to have this conversion with Wanda, so you hesitate for a moment before deciding to just be truthful with her.

‘She’s...finding it hard.’ You’re not stupid, you know that she’s arguing with Bruce all the time - when she stares down at her phone frowning and typing away furiously, when she slams the bedroom door shut while you’re downstairs, rushes out the house in the morning without a word to you.

‘Being away from Bruce?’

‘I guess. They were arguing last night.’ Wanda nods in acknowledgement, frowning at that.

‘Yeah, I heard from here. He was really mad. Almost turned green.’ You frown in shock at that. You know she was more upset than anything else, frustrated even. But Bruce almost hulking out? It must have been a bad argument. You missed most of it, only catching the end, but surely it couldn’t have been bad enough for him to turn green.

‘Really? Why? Just because he missed her?’

‘I-Yeah. He misses her.’ Wanda hesitates for a moment before speaking up with a sympathetic smile.

‘That guy has anger issues.’ You mumble and Wanda snorts, raising a brow at you.

‘Really? I didn’t notice.’ She says, voice dripping with sarcasm. You laugh together for a moment before you sigh and give her a sad smile.

‘Hey, I gotta go shower. I’m busy tonight but I’ll see if I can text you tomorrow, okay? Send me selfies, I miss your face.’ She smiles and blushes at that, giving you a teasing smirk.

‘Adorable.’

‘Shush.’ You don’t notice Natasha coming down the stairs behind you, but Wanda does with a sigh and tight smile.

‘Bye Y/N. Bye Nat!’ You turn around confused and then see Natasha in nothing but a towel, droplets of water on her exposed skin. She waves in your direction at the phone but Wanda’s hung up by the time you turn back around.

“How’s Wanda?” Natasha asks casually, browsing through the fridge until she takes out some fruit to slice.

“Oh, she’s okay. She can handle herself.” 

“I don’t doubt that. But being psychically, or magically powerful is different from emotional strength.” You frown at that, a little offended for Wanda. Clearing your throat, you stretch as you stand up and grab a strawberry slice from the bowl. Nat slaps your hand playfully and brings out another bowl to slice some fruit for you too.

“Wanda’s been through a lot. A few months away from me won’t kill her.”

“No, it probably won’t. But she’s really dependent on you. Steve told me she’s either been in her room or straight out the compound since we left.” Nat has a solid point. You joined the Avengers right after Sokovia; you were Wanda’s first friend, and she was yours. But you’ve had more life experience, more time being independent; she grew dependent on you quickly. The thought of her all alone, leaving the compound just so she doesn’t feel too trapped in her room...God, your heart clenches in your chest. She just needs a hug, interaction, a little support.

“Oh. I-Well, I’ll try to talk to her about it.” She’ll listen to you, she always does. You’ll text Steve too and ask him to help her adjust into a new team dynamic. There’s too much testosterone in the compound right now, but you can always rely on Steve to be a big teddy bear. “Hey, what time do you finish work tonight?”

“6. Why?” She starts brewing coffee, turning to face you and leaning against the counter. You swallow the remaining fruit and give her a cheeky smile before revealing your plans for the night.

“Great. We’re having dinner at the McNeils tonight.” It’s going to be a long night.

While Nat wanted to skip work for the day to spend hours creating a detailed plan, you thought the best option was to just go on about your days like you have been since you got here. You figured it wouldn’t take long to hatch out a plan. What you underestimated was Natasha’s stubbornness.

“You’re complicating this for no reason.” You groan, sipping on your glass of water. It would have been a whiskey if Natasha didn’t tug the bottle out of your hand the second you pulled it out of the cupboard - it’s not like it affects you anyway. She’s been going over the same plan for 10 minutes, trying to convince you that sneaking in at night would be a better plan. They’d both be asleep - less chance of getting caught - but you just think that’s excessive. It’s only your first week here.

“And you’re underestimating how dangerous these people are.” Nat counters, still taking down notes of entry points.

“You’re a trained assassin and I’m a Super-Soldier.” You practically laugh out in disbelief, talking slowly to emphasise your point.

“You’re going into this blind because of your fucking ego.” She spits out harshly, glaring as she doesn’t appreciate your patronising tone. Hiding your offence isn’t easy as you glare back at her, clenching your jaw.

“It’s not about ego, it’s about your paranoia. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just being cautious, Y/N.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s reminding you a little of Maria with all these insults, with how uptight she’s suddenly being.

“No, you’re acting scared. Have you seen Seth? That dude is fucking clueless. He can’t even tuck his shirt into his pants.” That’s exactly how he looked the first time you saw him and you didn’t feel threatened whatsoever. If anything, Rebecca’s piercing eyes boring holes into you is more threatening, but you’re sure that’s just desperation for attention she lacks from her husband.

“All it takes is one bullet.” Natasha’s voice takes on a serious tone, glare no longer prominent on her face. You let out a sigh and sift a hand through your hair. Natasha’s eyes linger on the stray hairs falling forward.

“Natasha. We have half a year to do this. We don’t need to find evidence tonight. All we need to do is go in, enjoy some dinner, fake a bathroom break to have a quick look around. That’s it.” You reason with her leaving no room for argument. And just to emphasise, you lean over the island to gently place your hands over hers. She glances down at your hands before nodding hesitantly, stubbornly breaking your hold by crossing her arms over her chest.

“Fine.” She murmurs.

“Good girl.” You grin cheekily, gulping the rest of your water down with your head thrown back; you miss the blush creeping up her cheeks as she walks away, up to the bedroom to get ready.

While Natasha gets ready, you take a moment to yourself to just breathe. You’ve made it a habit to mediate at least once a day - whether it’s for 10 minutes or an hour, it’s still effective. It’s something you picked up locked in your cell with nothing to do but sit in the corner absolutely terrified, paranoid with every creak you hear. The moment you felt your heartbeat speeding up, you’d sit in the middle of the metal cell on the cold floor, legs crossed and back straight, eyes closed, and you’d take in a deep breath. Hold it in, and slowly let out. Over and over again until you no longer felt anything, heard anything, saw anything around you. It’d just be you and your thoughts. It’s what kept you sane all those years.

Meditating gave you a moment to ground yourself so you could tell what was real and what wasn’t. It became a lot harder to do that when the simulations began. Truth be told you can barely remember them with how deeply they fucked with your mind over and over again, freezing you and frying your brain, giving you mission after mission, creating a robot, a soldier, a weapon and nothing more. They’d simulate scenarios of love, of escape, of happiness, just to take it all away and remind you that...that...remind you that only the dead-

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N, look at me, are you okay?” Your eyes shoot open, wide and defensive before they meet Natasha’s. “What’re you doing?” You keep your eyes locked with hers as you let the green soothe you. Natasha’s hesitates as her hand comes up to your face to cup your cheek, but she decides against it and drops it back down.

“Meditating.” You whisper as you try to catch your breath and calm your beating heart. Her brows come together as she crosses her arms over her chest, looking up at your figure sitting on the kitchen island with your legs crossed. You suppose you do look a little ridiculous right now.

“Well, you were practically shaking a second ago. Didn’t look like meditation.” 

“I-Sorry. I’m fine. I’ll go get ready.” You swipe the sweat off your forehead and jump off the island, rushing upstairs. Work mode on.

“And then he pulled a muscle! Right as he was coming back up! Seth insisted he was in excruciating pain so we spent the whole night waiting at the hospital just for them to give him painkillers and send us home.” Rebecca finishes off her story of when Seth proposed to her, all of you laughing together on cue. All apart from Seth, that is. He gives a tight smile, pouring himself another glass of wine as his wife’s hand pats him on the arm and stays there.

“I’m surprised you still married him after that!” You exclaim with wide eyes, shrugging your shoulders with a laugh when Natasha smacks you on the arm with a ‘shush’ and a giggle.

“Oh, stop it, stop it!” Rebecca laughs out, sighing after when she notices the look on her husband’s face. Her hand circles around his bicep gripping it before giving him a wide smile. “No, my Seth’s a charmer, really.” She leans her head against his shoulder for a moment before clearing her throat and gesturing to the bottle of wine with her eyes.

“More wine, dear?” Seth says in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard. He’s not even trying to hide it at this point; it’s obvious his wife is forcing him to be social.

“Please! Reagan, Natalie, would you like a refill?” Rebecca asks as Seth pours his wife a hefty amount of wine, knowing she’s more bearable when she’s drunk.

“Oh, I have to be in the office early tomorrow.” Natasha protests with a kind smile but you roll your eyes at her and nudge her a little.

“One more glass won’t hurt, my love. Live a little!” You lift Natasha’s glass up for Seth to pour. He pays no attention to the two of you arguing over another glass; he just pours and chugs his glass to pour yet another portion for himself.

“Rae ...behave yourself.” Natasha warns with playful eyes, keeping appearances. You lean in with a smirk and narrowed eyes, not missing the way her eyes glance down to your lips. Details. She really is a great actress.

“I’m never well-behaved. That’s why you married me.” Nat leans in to give you an endearing kiss on the cheek, smirking as your breath hitches just a little, loud enough for only her to hear.

“Oh, aren’t you two the cutest ? We revealed our proposal story, it’s your turn now! Tell me everything, I want every little detail.” You take a sip of your wine and hold your hand out to gesture for Natasha to take the wheels on this one. You’ve done most of the talking anyway, so it’s best for her to tell a story. You adjust on your chair to rest an arm on the back of hers, keeping your eyes trained on her as she tells the story of your fake proposal.

“Oh, Reagan proposed to me. It was so romantic - thank God I managed to find myself a writer, right? Ever since I hired her, she’d come bursting into my office with a new story she was working on, a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter, anything that she thought needed a second opinion.”

“Well, your opinion means everything to me, Nat. Always has, always will.” You cut in perfectly on time for Natasha to give you a sickeningly sweet smile and Rebecca to sit there practically cooing in her spot.

“See? Hopeless romantic! Anyway, we’d been together for 3 years and the writing never stopped, so I fired her-” 

“No!” Rebecca gasps, causing an almost conditioned response in Seth to roll his eyes. You pay them no attention though, completely enamoured by the way Natasha is telling the story.

“Wait, wait, I did it for her. I wanted her to pursue her writing career. Honestly, Rae’s writing is just beautiful. I had so many of her poems framed that I couldn’t fit them all in the house! Anyway, I came back home from work one night, completely exhausted, to see that she'd cooked me my favourite pasta dish - from scratch by the way! - and covered the whole apartment in flowers and candles. It was so lovely I just broke down completely after a tough week at work. She just held me after we ate and then told me she’d written a new short story for me to read.” Rebecca coos again, smiling widely and nodding along.

“Oh, here we go. This is the best part.” You keep them engaged for a moment, eyes never leaving Natasha.

“The second I started reading it, I saw it was our story. The night we met when she was a bartender, me hiring her, nights spent together late in the office, the first time we kissed. She wrote our story, every word just dripping with her love for me, and I absolutely melted. When I got to the end, it read; ‘After Natalie had finished reading with tears pooling in her eyes, she closed the book and looked down to find Y/N down on one knee. Will she marry her?’” Even Seth smiles a little at that, just a tiny one. Hearing Nat speak with so much love and adoration, so much happiness in her tone...you know it’s acting, you know it’s fake, but fuck you want it to be real so bad. You want the look that she’s giving you to be from Natasha, not Natalie. Maria really did send you here to torture you. Having this but knowing it’s not real and knowing the end is inevitable is just pure emotional pain and suffering.

“Oh, my, I’m going to cry right here, right now!” Rebecca breaks you out of your trance with her shrill voice.

“And she did look down, and there I was-” You carry on just to try and long out the moment, hand on top of Natasha’s.

“There you were.” She intertwines your fingers together, eyes locked to yours.

“Ring in my hand, already crying my eyes out. I couldn’t even get the words out.” You laugh out along with Nat, and you hope she can’t see the pain you’re hiding in your eyes.

“I didn't even let you try, I just had to kiss you.” She says in a whisper, eyes glancing down to your lips again. Seth clears his throat, his chair squeaking loudly as he stands up. The sound breaks you and Natasha’s hands, both of you turning to the noise with polite smiles.

“I’m getting more wine.” He leaves the room, almost on the verge of stumbling. You’re not even sure if he’ll make it back here at this rate; he might just pass out in the wine cellar.

“And I thought I was the one with the drinking problem.” Rebecca whispers and covers her mouth with her hand right after, laughing again. God, this woman hasn’t stopped laughing for the past hour.

“Excuse me, is it okay if I use your restroom?” You speak up before Natasha can, ignoring the glare you can feel her giving you. She clearly wanted to be the one to do the exploring.

“Oh, of course. Just up the stairs, turn left and it should be the third door on the right.” You follow her directions up the stairs, but take a right instead. There are a lot of rooms in this house, and according to the blueprint F.R.I.D.A.Y. provided, closets and laundry rooms are on this side. You figured they’d most likely use one of those rooms instead of a bedroom to hide their illegal jewels. Opening the first door quietly, you walk in and keep it slightly ajar behind you. Nothing but laundry. Even the cupboards were just filled with products. You move onto the room, seeing dark wooden furniture everywhere, a detailed maroon rug, bookcases filled with folders and books. This has to be Seth’s office.

There’s not much time until your absence borders on suspicious, so you quickly rummage through the files on his desk. Finding absolutely nothing interesting, you look through the draws, pausing as you reach the last one. There’s a gun in there. You don’t want to pick it up and put your prints on it, but you take a quick photo and shut the drawer quickly. Checking the time you curse to yourself before rushing to the door, leaving and closing it lightly as you turn your back.

“Hi.” Jumping up at the sudden sound, you gasp and turn around quickly, hand over your heart when you see Rebecca looking at you with a small grin tugging the corner of her lips.

“Shit! Oh, Rebecca. You gave me a fright there.” She doesn’t laugh along with you but bites her bottom lip subtly, stepping forward as you step back.

“Lost, are we?” She whispers in a deep tone and a raised brow.

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t find the bathroom. You said turn right and it’s three doors down, no?” You scratch the back of your neck, pointing to the door behind you. 

“Left. But I think you knew exactly what you were doing.” Gulping at her response, you step back now flush against the door. Rebecca steps forward, her hands by your sides trapping you between her and the door. Holy shit.

“I-I’m afraid I don’t und-” Her hand reaches up, finger over your lips. Your eyes automatically widen in shock.

“Shhh.” She leans in with a lip bite and wide smile, eyes looking up into your own, piercing blue and filled with desperation. “It’s okay. I want this too.” She leans in before you can do anything about it, brushing her lips against yours. Before she can deepen the kiss you push her off gently, laughing nervously and walking backwards. Her hands reach towards you but drop down when she notices the look on your face.

“Woah! Woah, no, no, I’m so sorry, I can’t. I love Nat, I love my wife , I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong imp-” Her hands go up to her mouth, shocked at her own actions. She walks closer to you, almost chasing after you at this point as you walk backwards faster.

“Oh, God , no, no, I-I didn’t-” 

“I think we should go. Thanks for dinner, it was lovely.” You practically run down the stairs, hair flopping over your face. You run a hand through it when you catch eyes with Natasha. “Nat? Come on, honey, we’re leaving.” You help her put her coat on as you pull her chair back. She stands up confused, brows furrowed together.

“Already? What-” You put your coat on quickly when you see Rebecca rushing down the stairs, her hand out in front of her like she’s reaching, begging for you to just wait for a moment.

“Thanks again, Rebecca! Give Seth my regards! Goodnight.” You don’t give her a chance, already out the front door with Natasha’s hand in your own. Speed-walking to your house, you open the front door and rush in, hearing Natasha close and lock the door gently after you.

“What happened?” She immediately asks, noticing how alarmed you look. Impulsively, you lie instead of just telling her the truth. You remember the soft look she was giving you back at the McNeils and you just don’t want to break that.

“I-Nothing. I’m just tired.” Why? Why are you lying? To protect Nat’s feelings? What feelings? They’re not real! They’re not fucking real. This is what Wanda meant when she said it’d be good for you to come here. You have to accept the fact that Natasha doesn’t have feelings for you.

“Y/N. What happened?” She pushes and you decide to tell part of the truth with a sigh, loosening the tie around your neck.

“I found a gun in Seth’s office.” You unbutton your shirt because you can’t fucking breathe with how tight it is around your neck. Natasha notices your discomfort so she tries to tread carefully.

“Shit. Okay, let’s not blow this out of proportion. Lots of people have guns for protection.” You scoff at her response and turn to face her with a look of disbelief.

“Really? You don’t want to blow this out of proportion? Did you suddenly do a 180 flip in the last 3 hours?” She was the one who was overplanning this whole dinner, and now she wants to just take it easy? You found a gun. This neighbourhood is definitely not a bad one for him to need a gun.

“Y/N, are you okay? What aren’t you telling me?” Natasha asks in a gentle voice, moving closer to you to place a hand on your arm, but you quickly turn away from her touch and run a hand through your locks, pulling the fridge open to grab a beer.

“I’m fucking fine, Romanoff.” There’s a brief silence before Natasha clears her throat.

“Right. Whatever. Goodnight.” She practically whispers before walking away, the last thing you hear being her heels clicking and the slamming of the bedroom door. You sigh and head over to the couch, taking off your shoes and sipping on your beer.

God, you’re an asshole.

Chapter Text

The morning after your ‘argument’ with Natasha, you woke up sticky and sweaty in your vest and boyshorts on the couch; the smell of bacon and burnt toast woke you from your slumber. Natasha tried to cook for you. Repeat. Natasha tried to cook for you. It was fairly obvious that you’re the one who needed to apologise, so you did, but she simply brushed it aside. Unsure of what to do, you ate the burnt toast anyway a little cautiously but with a permanent grin on your face for the rest of the day.

Natasha also attempted to cook dinner that night - lasagne, somehow knowing it’s your favourite homemade dish - but managed to completely burn the top. She stuttered as she complained about the oven and shitty instructions and you sat back, in awe of the effort she's putting. She wanted to order pizza, but you insisted you could redeem the lasagne simply by taking the top off. Life has taught you not to waste any food, grateful for every bite of good and healthy food compared to the beige mush you would get in captivity. Thankfully, Natasha never cooked again, but she did try to do other small things for you throughout the week: picking up coffee before work and leaving you one with a cute note, letting you pick out what to watch every night, buying you regular Coca-Cola, no longer putting almond 'milk' into your coffee. But what really shocked you was when you woke up on the couch a week later to Natasha telling you that she thinks you should sleep in the bedroom with her.

“What?” You ask her again, rubbing your eyes thinking you might just be dreaming or hallucinating. The sun glares through the windows at you, Natasha moving to stand in front of you to block the light. It glows around her figure, making her hair look even brighter, and she looks so angelic you think maybe you are hallucinating.

“I just think it’s unfair to you. It’s big enough for the both of us, and I didn’t even ask you to-” You can tell she’s been feeling a little guilty getting the bed while you slept on the couch every night, so you cut her off with an understanding smile.

“I know, Nat. I offered. Look, I really don’t want you feeling uncomfortable, especially since you have Bruce too.” You try reason with her, sitting up on the couch and stretching your back, cracking it with a satisfied groan.

“I don’t.” Natasha murmurs in a quiet voice and your heart stops beating for a moment. You know they argued the other week, but you didn’t think they broke up. It didn't sound any different to their usual arguments.

“Don’t what?” Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter, looking up at Natasha with a confused expression.

“Feel uncomfortable.” She answers.

“Oh.” Well. Now you feel shitty for hoping that they did break up. Till this day you’ll never understand how the fuck he managed to get her. And in your defence, everyone can tell she’s not happy with him - neither of them are happy with each other, so why are they even still together? “Guess we’re sleeping together tonight.” You jokingly chuckle with a playful wink. Natasha rolls her eyes with tinted cheeks and crossed arms. You stand up to walk past her towards the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. “Do you want to go on a fake dinner date with me? For appearances, of course.” You add at the end to emphasise it’s for the mission, despite it being for you . A dinner date getting to know her more, laughing with her, showing her your shop...it’ll almost feel real.

“Oh, of course, darling wife.” Natasha plays along with an uncharacteristic exaggerated curtsy. You laugh a little awkwardly, not sure what exactly is going on and why her behaviour has been changing over the past week. She’s been so nice, and you hope it’s because she feels closer to you after you comforted her the other night, but you can never be too sure when it comes to Natasha. “Can I see your bookshop after dinner?” Natasha surprises you yet again by her sudden interest in your day-to-day fake life. “I get a family and friends discount, right?” She laughs when you raise your brow with a smirk.

“The money goes right into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s pocket, so that’s fine by me. I didn’t think you’d be interested, you know. I would have invited you sooner.” You sip on your water bottle, chugging it faster by the time Natasha makes her way behind you, her fingers gently ghosting over the skin on your hips.

“Oh, I’m hurt that my wife’s already forgetting things about me.” She whispers, leaning forward and pressing her body against yours to grab an apple from the bowl in front of you.

“M-Me? Forgetting? No, never. You like reading; it’s like living-”

“Multiple lives.” She finishes the sentence for you just like she did on the Quinjet, and you gulp as she steps back giving you the space to finally let out the breath you’ve been holding. You’ve tried to be as respectful as you can but holy shit; she has a damn boyfriend yet she’s pressing herself up against you. But that’s just what friends do, right?

“Well, being a spy is also living multiple lives. I figured you’ve had your fill.” You reply once you get a fucking grip, you’re a goddamn trained spy and assassin. You used to crush fucking skulls and you’re here breathing heavily because Natasha Romanoff’s tits touched your back.

“Oh, there’s no such thing as too much thrill.” You turn around and try keep yourself composed when you notice how close she still is to you, eyes looking up into your own.

“Right. But, you know, thrill can be dangerous sometimes. Could make us do things we might regret.” Emphasising doesn’t seem to work as she keeps her gaze stubbornly, biting into her apple with a loud crunch and a smirk when your eyes briefly drop down to her lips.

“We all have regrets. Some of us more than others.” Her tone takes a raspier one that causes an ache between your legs, but you ignore it. She has to be playing with you right now. This is playful, it’s just playful, that’s all.

“Better work on amending those regrets rather than adding to the list.” You explain with a quick glance to her pouty lips. Nat mimics your movements before stepping back, giving you enough space to manoeuvre around her. There’s a moment of tense silence as you two move in sync around the kitchen, managing to avoid colliding together as you empty the dishwasher, tie up the trash bag to throw out, look in the fridge to note down a grocery list. You try not to think about how well you two fit together, how compatible you two are domestically, but of course the thought lingers in your mind. You silently head up the stairs to take a shower and Natasha’s already left for work by the time you come down, no note or coffee this time.

You’ve already turned the corner to your block by the time you remember that you forgot to grab a bouquet for Natasha. Cursing internally at yourself, you run a hand through your hair as you scan your surroundings, grinning when you find roses - cliché, you know - sticking out through a gated house’s garden. They won’t miss it.

Well, it’s not like this is real anyway. You have to keep reminding yourself that she’s not your wife, she’s not your partner; you’re both just agents. You’re Avengers for God’s sake; all this domesticity is just an act. This love is an act. Perhaps you’re playing the role too well. Maybe if you play it well enough you can make Natasha fall in-No. No. You shake that messed up thought out of your head and knock on your house door, cheekily smirking when Natasha opens the door with furrowed brows.

“Why are you knocking?” Your eyes bulge at her dark blue dress hugging her curves perfectly, red waves of hair curlier than usual, and dark eyeshadow to make her forest eyes stand out even more so than they naturally do. You always think Natasha looks beautiful but her dressing up just for you literally takes your breath away.

“Oh, wow, you look gorgeous. All this for little old me?” You manage to compose yourself, keeping up the cocky persona as you lean against the door frame. Natasha rolls her eyes at you, struggling to fight the smile that’s itching its way onto her face. She can’t fight the blush though; not even her concealer can hide it.

“Get in here, loser, I’m not ready yet.” She says in an annoyed tone, walking back into the house. You trail behind her, closing the door with your foot so your eyes don’t miss that perfect view - there’s no way she’s not doing that swaying hip thing on purpose at this point. You’re a blushing mess around her, you always have been, and she’s a goddamn spy; she has to at least know you’re insanely attracted to her.

“Can’t even take the damn rose.” You grumble as you walk in, following her. “I went out of my way to get this rose for you!” She goes up the stairs to your bedroom, applying mascara as she stares into the mirror. You sit on the bed and lean back resting on your elbows, glancing over her figure.

“I literally watched you from the window stealing it from the neighbour’s garden.” She says in a flat tone, smirking at you through the mirror.

“Watching me, huh? Sounds like someone was excited for our fake date.” Natasha dabs a little blush on her cheeks and applies bright red lipstick, rubbing her lips together before pouting in the mirror at you playfully.

“Excited for Italian. There’s this place I’ve wanted to try.” Natasha corrects you and leans down to slide her heels on. Okay, she didn’t need to bend over right in front of you. Trying to figure out how you could play along too, you unbutton your shirt enough to show a hint of cleavage, just enough to make someone want more. The necklace around your neck leads down to the valley between your breasts; it’s bound to attract attention.

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that. I’m irresistible.” Both of you meet in the middle, Natasha’s eyes locking onto your pushed up cleavage as you cross your arms over - actually, it’s more under - your chest.

“I’m resisting.” She looks back up with a tight smile, snapping to the side and leaving the door open for you to follow her down the stairs.

“Ouch.” You mumble in response to the insult but shake it off, adjusting the rings on your fingers as Natasha locks the door behind you.

“It’s a quick walk. Come on, let’s go.” You hold your arm out for her to link with and she does so after a pause with a roll of her eyes and a slight blush. To be fair there is a bit of breeze tonight, so she’s probably just a little cold. You know she goes red when she’s cold.

The two of you walk together in comfortable silence, gesturing for the other to look over when you pass by a particularly interesting group of lively performers, a restaurant or dessert place you’d add to the list of places for another date night, cute places to shop another time. You stop at a jewellery shop that caught your eye; a bracelet with green and red gemstone charms on display particularly stops you in your tracks.

“Honey, we have a reservation.” Natasha pushes, giving a quick smile to the shop owner who greets the two of you with a nod and friendly grin.

“I know, I know. But look, this is so pretty.” Picking up the charm bracelet carefully, you inspect it already knowing the shade is extremely similar to Natasha’s eye colour. Of course there is no shade in this world that can mimic the mix of greens in Natasha’s forest eyes, but this is close enough.

“Green and red, hmm?” She says with narrowed eyes, already knowing why you picked it out. Walking up behind you, she lets you grab her hand and rest the bracelet over her wrist.

“They match your eyes. And your hair. It’s perfect. Look, it looks so good on you, baby.” You know you’ve convinced her by the slight blush creeping up her neck and the hesitant lip bite. You don’t think she’s acting. It does look cute on her, simple enough to not be too flashy, something she can wear every day. And it’ll add to her character; if anyone asks, it’s an easy way to bring up her wife, you.

“I guess it’s...nice.”

“That’s all the approval I need. I’m buying it.” You wink at her and head over to the cashier.

“As if the engagement and wedding rings weren’t enough?” She speaks up from behind you, widening her eyes at the cashier in a look of disbelief and adoration at you. The cashier gives Natasha a soft laugh in response.

“Gotta spoil my girl.” You quickly pay with your card, interrupting as the cashier makes a move to box up the bracelet. “Oh, we don’t need a box, thank you. She’ll wear it now.” You turn around to Natasha and she holds her arm out, blushing as you carefully put the bracelet on, fingertips brushing over her skin.

“You two are just a beautiful couple. Thank you for your purchase, enjoy your evening.” The cashier waves you two out as the bell at the door rings when you open it.

“Thank you. You too!”

“You’re good at this, you know.” Natasha tells you with something of a proud smile as she links her arm with yours again, almost naturally this time. You know she’s referencing your ability to act. If only she knew it wasn’t an act.

“Well, I’m good at many things. You just haven’t taken the time to get to know me.” You tease with a soft nudge to her side. As you two approach the restaurant, she slows down, slipping her hand down to interlock with yours.

“I guess this fake date might not be so fake after all. Let’s call it a friend date.” Natasha whispers, hot breath against your ear. The word friend causes a pang in your chest a little, but you’d rather stay delusional; it hurts less that way. You walk together, hand in hand. “Reservation for the Rushmans.” By the time you’re seated with a bottle of wine to share, Natasha leans back in her chair with a sigh and narrowed eyes as she watches over you.

“Your favourite colour’s green.” She says in a confident and sure voice, sipping on her glass of wine. You snort at that, trying to keep your laugh in but you can’t help it with how concentrated she looks - and she got it wrong.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking questions?” Teasing her is easy and you know you’ve achieved your mission when she rolls her eyes at you. The complimentary bread on the table looks fresh rather than stale, better than most places you’ve eaten at. You bite into one and she leans forward and takes it off you, slathering some butter on it before trying to hand it back to you. You bite into it, dangerously close to her fingers, and she yelps and laughs a little.

“I’m simply making observations.”

“It’s red, actually.” She raises a brow and clenches her jaw, a little annoyed she got it wrong. It’s cute how stubborn she is, always wanting to be right.

“Huh. Okay. Mines-”

“Blue.” You interrupt her before she finishes, already knowing the answer. It’s a little embarrassing how fast you answered, but she only looks impressed and a little shocked.

“I-Yes. You’re right.” Natasha’s head tilts like she’s asking you ‘how’, so you answer with a sigh and a cocky smirk.

“You wear bright blue sweatpants a lot around the compound. Even the dress you’re wearing tonight is blue. You even had blue lights installed in your suit a few years ago.” You remember looking over the footage from South Africa, Sokovia, all while the Avengers were fixing a problem Tony created, again. You’ve learnt to love him and understand him better over the years, but his ego will forever be a problem. How Pepper puts up with him you’ll never know.

“Observant. Why red?”

“It’s...pretty.” Wanda’s magic, Natasha’s bright locks. “And passionate. Sexy.” Your eyes glance up to Natasha’s red stained lips, then down to the glass of red wine in your hands...your hands that have been stained red for most of your life. “Violent. Dangerous.” You trail on and on, twirling the liquid in your glass. Natasha’s curious eyes scan your movements.

“Intense.”

“That too.” You smirk and wink playfully. You both thank the waiter that brings over your starters. All you got was garlic bread; it’s what you know. But glancing over at Natasha’s place you see a whole sphere of cheese, suddenly craving it. Damn.

“I hate green. Makes me think of puke and bogeys.” It doesn’t put you off your food; you still crunch down on the bread with a subtle moan of pleasure. Fuck. Now you understand why it was $20 just for this starter.

“Your boyfriend’s green.” You mumble, mouth full. She glares at you for a second like she’s about to scold you for talking with your mouth full, so you keep your lips sealed as you chew.

“Only when he’s angry.” She cuts into the cheese and you didn’t expect it to be creamy. Just like you did, she makes a subtle sound as she takes a bite of the cheese with a little bread and some green shit. You’ll let the greens off this time considering it’s covered in fatty cream.

“These days it seems like he’s angry all the time.” You let out without a second thought but cringing when you realise what you’ve just said. Giving Natasha an apologetic look, you pass over one of your garlic breads as an apology. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.” She takes the bread, slathering it in the creamy cheese and taking a bite, handing the rest back to you carefully. This woman knows the secret to your heart.

“Oh, no it’s fine. You’re right.” She leans back with a sigh. The guilt is heavy in your chest at that, knowing you’ve dampened the mood now.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t always like this.” Natasha explains suddenly, feeling the need to vent a little. You try not to look too happy that she’s trusting you enough to open up. “I’ve always been given orders. My whole life has been orderly, and decisive, and I had a plan. But with him I’m just always so unsure of what I want, what to do, and he’s just as bad as me. He wants to leave, then he decides to stay, and it’s the same thing over and over again. I just feel-”

“Trapped.” She lets out a sigh of relief when you say the word instead, almost like it’s triggering for her. You understand. You understand how this works, how it feels to be trapped and not know how to get out of the endless cycle of pain. The look in her eyes is a familiar one, one that you used to see every single time you looked in the mirror.

“And I don’t know how to get out, and the bigger problem is I don’t know if I want to get out or keep trying in the hopes that one day it’ll work.” You slyly reach over when she’s done with her venting, dipping your garlic bread into the cream. She rolls her eyes at you and pushes the plate forward towards you after taking a final bite and leaning back. You can’t help having a large appetite; at least Natasha is understanding. She sips on her wine instead, preferring it anyway.

“Love cycles tend to be toxic, repetitive, hard to break away from. The longer you stay, the harder it’ll be to leave.” After stealing her plate, you drop some words of advice, hoping she’ll see how much you understand her situation. She might take your advice, and it’s not necessarily bad advice. It may be a little selfish, but she deserves better-no, she deserves to be happy and she’s not happy with him. “But that’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s worth it for the right person.” You try to end it positively, keeping your advice unbiased.

“Do you think I’m the right person?” Natasha breaks the silence and you snap your head up from your plate after that question. Impulsively, you’d answer ‘fuck yes’, but she’s not talking about you. This is fake and she’s asking you, her friend, for relationship advice.

“For him?” She nods. “I think you want to be. And you want him to be too.” It’s not the answer she wants, but she doesn’t push you for more. There’s nothing more you can offer her; she has to figure out what she wants. Your empty plates are taken away and replaced with the main course. Natasha picked risotto which you’re pretty sure is supposed to be a starter. You’ve watched Hell’s Kitchen with Clint, both of you laughing every time Gordon Ramsey screamed at panicked amateur chefs.

“Have you ever had the right person? You’ve lived for a while, surely you’ve met the one by now?” She breaks the silence a few minutes later after the two of you took a moment to relish how good your food is. You got pasta but damn it was the best pasta you’ve ever eaten. It’s an interesting enough question, but you’ve never really had time for love. You’ve contemplated it, written about it, thought about it, you think you’ve experienced it...but time always seems to be moving against you.

“Unfortunately, I was too busy spilling red all over my ledger. Sometimes I think the only active choice I’ve ever made was finally taking up Fury’s offer. Anything before that...it wasn’t mine, you know? It was someone else making me do it, whether it was forceful or subconscious. So...I understand what you mean when you say you’ve always been given orders. And when you have freedom…” You trail off, getting tired of this conversation, but she finishes it off for you.

“You don’t know what to do with it.” Natasha understands.

“Anyway. That’s a depressing topic.” You laugh out loud, sipping on your wine and pouring a little more into your glass, topping off Natasha’s empty glass too. She thanks you and you two eat in silence for a moment before she breaks it again.

“Did you know I have a...a sister?” That, you did not know. From what you know, Natasha has no family, no connections, no one that could be used against her, no weakness - until the Avengers, that is.

“Oh?” You push for her to elaborate, suddenly more interested in the conversation.

“Not biologically, but she’s still family. It was an undercover mission in Ohio, she...she was only 6. I tried to stop them from taking her, taking us, but my papa-the agent playing our father…he insisted that we were making our country proud.” Natasha’s eyes take a sad tone as she reminisces. She’s left the Red Room since and never looked back, no matter how badly she wanted to go look for her sister.

“Tell me about her.”

Two hours later, with the main courses and desserts demolished, the bottle of red wine emptied, stomachs full and cheeks sore from wide smiles and loud laughs, you and Natasha had moved over to the bar section of the restaurant. Natasha talked about the Ohio mission, the fake memories created with her fake family, how real it felt, how protective she was over Yelena. She didn’t talk about the Red Room, refused to talk past the day they ran; that was the first time she flew a plane. You’ve never seen a smile stretched on her face for this long. Never. She’s even more beautiful when she’s happy.

“I-I haven’t told anyone that.” Natasha shys away from your gaze, looking down at her nearly empty martini.

“Told anyone what?”

“Everything. About Yelena, my family, Ohio.” She blushes at her confession when she sees your face scrunched up into a shocked and slightly cocky expression.

“No one?” ‘Including Bruce’ is in the air; you don’t say it but you know she knows that’s what you’re really asking her.

“No one.” A wide smile takes over your lips. Does she trust you more than him - with this at least? Or has she simply had a little too much to drink? Either way you feel special, closer to her knowing you’re the only person who knows this vital part of her life, of her childhood.

“Well, I guess I owe you a secret.” You tease with a smirk, sipping the last of your whiskey and gesturing to the bartender for another pour.

“Give me something juicy.” I love you. Is that juicy enough? 

“Well, I’ve slept with someone famous.” She’ll probably take that a lot better than what you really wanted to say. Natasha widens her eyes at you, gasping, asking you to just tell her.

“Spill it, then!” You laugh at her reaction and clear your throat before turning in your stool to face her a little. She mimics your movements, hand next to yours on the counter.

“It was in the 50s. 1954, to be exact. I was on mission after mission, spying for HYDRA from the States. I was mainly there because of McCarthyism and the Second Red Scare. Anyway, long story short, I was tasked with infiltrating higher end parties, celebrities, and covertly spreading communism. So, I attended the Golden Globes. Made some friends, connections, managed to get into the afterparty. Guess who won the Henriette Award for World Film Favourites and decided to celebrate with me?” Natasha remains engaged in your storytelling, hand gripping yours with a playful and impatient glare, waiting for you to spill. “Marlyin Monroe.” She gasps out loud at that, her hand leaving yours to cover her mouth in shock. You laugh and sip on your drink, smirking at the memory.

“No. No way, as if. I don’t believe you for one second.” She shakes her head at you, an expression of disbelief on her face. She picks up the olive stick in her martini and bites one, keeping her lips open so the red doesn’t stain the olive. You’re practically hypnotised for a moment before snapping out of it when you hear a glass smashing behind the counter.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true! I remember it, of course, but I was still... you know, so everything was kind of emotionless, just a step towards the end goal of the mission. But trust me, the memory is still up here.” Remembering is the easy part, but feeling is the hardest. You were a machine, a soldier with orders and that was it. While you can look back and feel regret and remorse, the memory of yourself is different. It was hard to accept that version of yourself, and there are moments where you still don’t. Moments when you wake up after a nightmare-no, a memory, hating yourself for what you’ve done.

“Wow…” Natasha stays silent for a while, unintentionally letting you think about the horrors of your past for a moment. She finally breaks her silence, pulling you away from the memories. You put on your signature smirk. It’s fake and you don’t think she can tell.

“Juicy enough for you?” You tease and she still looks surprised, trying to process the fact that you actually slept with the icon Marylin Monroe.

“Very.”

“You seem shocked.” You’re borderline offended, not sure if she’s shocked because she’s famous, or shocked because it’s you. But Natasha rolls her eyes and bites on the last olive on the stick, lips wrapped around it this time like she’s sucking the alcohol off it. Oh, fuck.

“Jealous, more like.” She mumbles but it’s clear enough for you to understand.

“Of me, or her?” You ask, leaning in a little closer to her, your finger hesitantly brushing against her open palm on her lap.

“Maybe both if you play your cards right.” Oh. Her eyes are a darker shade to the green you’re used to, burning into yours, and it takes everything in you to pull away from her hand as her fingers trace your fingers up to your knuckles. She has a boyfriend. You’re sure you’ve just given her too much to drink; you did finish a bottle of wine together and she’s had like three martinis. Who’re you kidding, she had the majority of the wine too.

“Let’s get out of here. Show me how well-read you are.” After paying the bill, her hand finds yours again, but you lead her to your shop, unlocking the door, rattling the bell as you walk in. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know the drill.” You speak to the A.I. that immediately scans the shop for bugs, cameras, anything out of the ordinary. Once you have the all clear, you turn the lights on and lean back against the glass door as Natasha takes her time to look around.

“This is really cute. Awh, they gave you custom bags too!” Natasha gushes over the paper bags she sees laying on the table. Oh, she’s definitely drunk, slurring her words, smiling widely and biting her bottom lip.

“Forgot to move those back. I made quite a lot of sales, I had to get more bags out from the back.” You move behind the cashier desk, hooking the bags under it while Natasha strolls through the store.

“Did you know that I’ve read Game of Thrones, like, 5 times? I don’t have this set though. These covers are so cool.” Okay, what the fuck ? How the hell hasn’t this come up earlier? You’ve been working together for who knows how long and this night is probably the longest conversation you’ve ever had with her.

“No way...did you start with the books or the show?” You rush over to her a little too excitedly, but who can blame you? Wanda hasn’t read Game of Thrones yet, and as far as you know no one else on the team has. You could talk about this for hours .

“Books, obviously. What house are you loyal to?” Nat rolls her eyes like she’s saying it’s ridiculous to not know of the books before the show and you think you’re falling in love with her all over again. She pulls out the second book, fingers brushing over the 3D print of the hardcover, and you watch her admiring the book.

“Targaryen. Duh.” You answer with a grin and she gasps and grabs onto your wrist excitedly.

“Same!”

“My kind of gal.” You wink at her and she actually blushes again. There’s nothing you can do but grin at her in awe, eyes glancing down to her lips every now and then. You want to kiss her so bad and you hate it. You hate Maria for putting you in this situation and you hate yourself for falling for Natasha all over again knowing that nothing real will ever happen between the two of you.

“Really?” Her voice quiets down a little, borderline whispering as she steps closer to you, the thick book being the only thing between the two of you. The book presses against your abs as she slowly takes another step forward and your breath hitches and she knows. She knows, and you know she knows how much she affects you. You can see it in her eyes, the smirk that’s threatening to take over her pouty lips.

“It’s getting late. We should start heading back home.” You just about manage to resist, clearing your throat and stepping back. She follows you a moment later after putting the book back with a sigh, letting you lock the door.

“Hello, dear.” You jump up at the sound of a croaky voice behind you, snapping to the side to see Nanny Bertha standing outside her shop with a walking stick in hand.

“Oh, hi, Ms-”

“Nanny.” She interrupts in a stern tone, a stern look, and you can’t help but cower a little.

“Nanny Bertha. Late night?” You ask curiously, checking your watch to see it’s already close to midnight. Looking back up you see her gazing at you with wide eyes and a tight smile.

“Oh, I only live upstairs. It’s no bother to stay open a little while longer. As you might be able to tell, this town comes alive at night.” Her walking stick still pounds on the ground, echoing despite it being on concrete and not a wooden floor. She steps forward, turning her body away from you and towards Natasha.

“I’ve noticed. It’s beautiful, really. We’ve settled down here pretty easily. Oh, this is my lovely wife, Natalie. Natalie, this is Nanny Bertha.” She was already looking at Natasha so you introduce them before things become awkward. Tipsy Nat holds her hand out and shakes Nanny Bertha’s wrinkly hands before the flowers on display outside catch her attention.

“It’s nice to meet you! Oh, is this where you got that gorgeous bouquet from?” Natasha lifts a bouquet of yellow flowers and sniffs with a smile. You subtly tap twice on the side of your glasses, a shortcut you customised for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take a photo. She really does look beautiful and there aren’t that many pictures in this world of Natasha Romanoff smiling. Of course the world won’t see it, just you, and Nat if you get brave enough to show her. She might kill you, and it’ll probably be worth it.

“Yes, darling.”

“Ah, the peonies. Do you know the myth of poor Paeonia?” Nanny Bertha turns to face you now, eyes locked onto you instead of Natasha who shows up beside you shoving the flowers in your face. You smell them and widen your eyes at her to say ‘wow’ when you really mean ‘get that out of my face’.

“Oh? No, Rae told me about Paieon, was it, honey?” Natasha struggles to remember and pronounces it wrong but you smile at her nonetheless, kissing her forehead as she leans against you.

“Asclepius’s student, yes. Good memory, you’re a fast learner.” You praise her, not missing the blush on her cheeks.

“You’re a good teacher.” She responds, booping your nose with her finger and giggling as she gets distracted by more flowers. You watch her walk away until the flower shop door shuts behind her distant figure, attention now turning to Nanny Bertha.

“Well, while that is a good story, I prefer Paeonia’s.” She brings the subject right back to mythology and you almost roll your eyes at that but contain yourself. She clearly wants to tell the story, despite you already knowing it.

“I think it’s quite tragic.” You show off with your knowledge expecting her to push and be stubborn, but she gives you somewhat of a proud smile as you shove your hands into your pockets.

“That it is. But both stories are.” You don’t agree with her, almost scoffing at her response. She narrows her eyes at you like she knows your friendly smile is fake.

“Jealousy corrupts humanity.” You sigh out in contemplation.

“Jealousy is humanity.” She counters and your eyes narrow this time, matching hers. She’s challenging you, seeing how far she can push you, how long it’ll take for you to give in and put your stubbornness aside.

“Not when it leads to murder.” She laughs out at your response, shaking her head and tutting at you. You can’t help feeling like you’re wrong now, and you almost never doubt your knowledge like this. Your confidence diminishes under her gaze.

“Oh, Aphrodite didn’t murder her; she turned her into something beautiful and useful.” Her walking stick stomps against the ground again, somehow louder than before.

“She was already beautiful.” You argue back, embarrassed when your voice cracks a little, unsure if you’re even talking about Paeonia anymore.

“Beautiful but useless. Beauty is nothing if you cannot weaponise it.” You cringe as she raises her voice a little, shocked at her extreme views. There’s a ringing in your ears as she stares at you, tilting her head, stomping her stick as she steps closer to you. Just as you open your mouth to protest, to scream, to say anything, Natasha’s voice breaks the tension.

“Babe! These will look amazing in the kitchen!” Her voice is uncharacteristically cheerful but you smile nonetheless and it’s not a fake one. She hands a couple bills from her purse to Nanny Bertha quickly when she sees the impatient look on your face. Even drunk, she can sense your discomfort.

“They sure will, honey. It’s getting late, love. And you have had too much to drink. It’ll be a workout trying to get you into bed.” You tease, both of you laughing together while Nanny Bertha watches with a soft smile, hands laced together at the top of her walking stick held in front of her.

“Goodnight, Mrs and Mrs Rushman.” She says with a wave as you two start walking away.

“Goodnight.” You wave back and turn, letting Natasha link her arm with yours.

“She’s so...motherly!” Natasha exclaims, stumbling over her own feet every few seconds. She leans on you heavily, not that you feel it anyway. You just let her cling onto you to stay upright, giving apologetic smiles to people passing by, but they all seem drunk anyway, grinning widely and holding out their drinks and bottles in the air.

“She’s creepy.” You emphasise and Natasha lets out an exaggerated gasp.

“Where the hell did you get that from?” She practically yells out and you have to shush her to remind her to keep her voice down.

“Where the hell did you get motherly from?” You counter.

“Her aura.” She grins up at you, proud of her answer, eyes wide and hazy. If you look closely you can see her shades of green swirling together. You wish your eyes were microscopes.

“Yeah, you’re definitely drunk. Come on. Let’s get you home. Hop up.” You stop suddenly, bending down a little for her to jump onto your back. She grabs onto your bicep to try and force you up but you stay put with a knee on the ground.

“I’m heavy.” Natasha whines out and you let out a laugh at how cute she’s being.

“I’m a Super-Soldier.” You whisper dramatically and she gasps in fake shock, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“You’re a bookkeeper.” She whispers accusingly and you roll your eyes at her antics while she giggles, swaying side to side as she struggles to remain upright. You’re taking the blame entirely for letting her get this drunk. You’re not even sure how it happened, both of you too caught up in conversation, caught up in each other.

“I’ll pretend to struggle but push through it for my beautiful wife. Now, hop on.” She doesn’t protest after you call her beautiful, blushing and jumping onto your back with a squeal when you stand up. 

By the time you get home, Natasha’s almost fallen asleep on your back. She insists that you’re just ‘so warm, so squishy’ over and over again. You shut the door with your foot, climbing up the stairs with her still on your back, gently sitting down on your bed to let her lay down. She sighs as she drops back, head sinking into the pillow.

“Hey, no, no, get changed first and then you can sleep.” You start panicking when her eyes flutter, taking her heels off and throwing them to the side. Her toes stretch as she strains when she yawns. You undress her as quickly and respectfully as you can, helping her put on a tanktop and shorts. You move back towards the door when you’re done but stop in your tracks when you hear Natasha’s pleading voice.

“No...come here.” Natasha whines, hands reaching for you, pouting. You’ve never seen her like this, and it’s probably because she’s already in her room with Bruce by the time she’s this drunk at the compound.

“Natasha, I should probably sleep down-” You start to protest but she cuts you off before you can finish, struggling to sit up.

“Here. I told you this morning. We’re wife and wife, please. I’ve felt, like, so bad about it since the first day.” She does make a good point, and she looks really guilty for taking the bed; she didn’t even take it, you offered to take the couch and refused to sleep with her. You still feel bad about it, guilty even, because she’s not yours. “Please.” Fuck it.

The creaking sound is the second thing that wakes you; the first is the pain running through your body, the ache in every single muscle that never lets you sleep for long enough to rightfully call it ‘sleep’. Even if you did sleep for a moment longer than usual, you’d wake with a boot to your stomach, kicking over and over again paired with manic laughter from above; some days you’re not even sure if the laughter is from you or them.

The creaking gets louder and louder like it’s telling you to open your eyes, it’s time to wake up, get up before they make you. You force your eyes open, squinting at the harsh light. The lightbulb above you is the only one in the badly lit room - the cell - but too close to your face, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of it. You can hear the guard walking around the room, your senses heightened. If you pay attention you can even hear the droplet of sweat fall from his face and splash onto the ground, can hear his heart beating at a calm pace. He has nothing to fear from you with the gun strapped to his side and 10 guards behind the door waiting for you to attack, daring you to do so. He takes his time to unstrap you from the small, shitty hospital bed you outgrew when the experiments finally succeeded. That success wasn’t enough though. It’ll never be enough for them.

“Up.” A cold, deep voice instructs and you don’t want to. You don’t want to get up, you don’t want to listen, you’d rather burn your eyes out with the light. You force your eyes to remain open despite the pain from the brightness, tears dripping down the side of your face. You want to see how far you can go, how much you can endure. They want to see too so they let you do it until it bores them. “Up.” You listen to the guard this time, sitting up with a groan, dodging the swinging lightbulb, scanning your surroundings. It’s never different anyway, but you still do it as if pretending to be alert and ready to escape can put you at ease, preventing this reality from hitting you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” You turn your head to face the unfamiliar voice, but all you see is a blurry figure. Your eyes can’t focus and your mind distorts the voice. “You’re healing at an exceptional rate.” The voice continues, pacing slowly around the bed you’re still sitting in. You refuse to answer, and even if you wanted to, there’s still a mask covering the lower half of your face. They treat you like a dog, feed you like a dog, dress you like a fucking dog. They’re trying to tame you like one. You’ll show them you’re not. You’re a human being, not some fucking lab rat. “But you are, Y/N. A lab rat.” You grumble against the mask, trying to protest, trying to ask ‘how’? How did they know? How are they in your head? “You do have a curious mind. It’s astonishing. All this pain, all this torture, and you still have this passion, this thirst for knowledge.” You tried to keep your thoughts silent after that, but the voice knew you were trying. Suddenly, their blurred figure was to your left, face so close you could feel their breath on you. “Let’s see how fast your bones heal.”

Your face twists into a cold and dark expression as you prepare for what’s to come, jumping off the bed before the guards kick it over. Landing on your two feet, stance ready to defend, you slap away each fist coming at you, kick away every boot trying to crack your bones. You can still fight it, fighting is not pointless.

“Fighting is pointless.” The voice echoes through the room, bouncing against the walls. You miss the attack from the third guard behind you, kicking the back of your knee. You can’t give up. “Give up.” The voice comes again, louder this time. You yell out as a guard kicks the leg you’re resting on the ground. You don’t need to be advanced to hear the crack, it echoes around the room. You push through it with a growl, refusing to let them see you’re in pain, grunting with each kick, punch, with every bat that hits you, each thick boot that marks your skin. You curl up and grunt as your senses overwhelm you and all you can feel is excruciating pain everywhere. “Let the subject heal.”

Your resting period didn’t last long at all, only 5 minutes before you stumbed up, fists up in front of you. That was when you realised your mistake. You never give up, and you see it for what it is now: a flaw. Now you’ve shown them exactly what they wanted to see, now you’ve given them the chance to attack again, giving them the upper hand. You should have just given up.

“Remarkable.” The voice calls out in a whisper. “Again. Break everything.” You ready yourself, shaking your leg as your bones quickly heal, swelling down, the ache disappearing second by second as adrenaline fills your body. The guards in front of you are down from four to two and you didn’t even notice you took two down earlier. But another two walk into the room replacing them with ease. They all look the same. Maybe not physically, but you can see the same emotionless look in their eyes. Agency. Milgram’s agency theory; people obey by distancing themselves from the responsibility of their actions. Someone made them do it, so it’s not their fault. It makes it easier for them to look at you like you’re just a task they have to do to get paid; breaking your bones and destroying you in and out is just a chore to them. You wonder if they can sleep at night with your cries haunting them.

“Dr Meyer, I advise you to give the subject a moment to rest.” Another voice speaks out, deeper, but softer. Dr Meyer. You don’t recall that name. You don’t recall this memory. It’s a memory.

“We cannot learn without pain.” Aristotle.

“We cannot learn without pain.” You repeat through your mask as you grunt and growl with each punch, throwing so hard you break your knuckles against the guard’s face. He drops to the ground, leaving three. You have to get them all. You have to. They cannot learn without pain. We cannot learn without pain…

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you, please, calm down. It’s okay. I got you, I got you, please, Y/N.” The voice waking you up is distorted and distant until you hear the desperation in it. Your eyes snap open just in time to stop your fist from colliding with her face, Natasha’s eyes tired but open wide in shock.

“I-Nat.” You whisper out, voice raspy and croaky, breathing heavily as sweat drips down your body. God, you feel hot, sticky, scared. Your heart’s pounding against your chest and Natasha knows with her hand pressed against it. She leans forward, forehead against yours letting you breathe her in. Lavender. It’s lavender, it’s warm, and safe, and her. It’s Nat.

“It’s me. Hey, look at me. You’re okay. You’re not there, you’re here, with me, in bed. You’re safe.” She repeats over and over again, reassuring you as best as she can, and she’s so good at this, so insanely good at this that she’s calmed you down in a matter of seconds, those eyes of hers bright green despite how dark the room is.

“I’m sleeping on the couch.” You decide, making a move to stand up quickly. You’ve come to your senses, realising what you were about to do before you woke up. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew you should have slept on the couch in the first place.

“Y/N, plea-”

“No, Natasha. I could have hurt you.” You don’t raise your voice at her but it’s cold and stern and gives no room for debate. Or so you thought. Only Natasha would stand up with you, holding your hands in her own and rubbing her thumb back and forth soothingly. You turn your head away from her with a clenched jaw but she tuts and you turn back immediately with wide eyes filled with tears that want to spill out. You haven’t had a nightmare this bad in a while and the last thing you want is to cry in front of her.

“But you didn’t. Y/N, I understand those nightm...those dreams more than anyone. Just stay in bed. We don’t have to sleep. Come, let’s watch something.” Her tone is soothing, hypnotising as she lures you back into bed with a soft and comforting smile. She lets you cuddle up to her, soft skin against yours as she turns the TV on, scrolling on the Amazon stick thing - you can’t remember what it’s called and you can’t be bothered to keep up with the tech these days.

“Are you still drunk?” You don’t mean to whisper but your voice comes out like that, quiet and timid.

“No, but my head’s pounding.” She settled on an animated show on Netflix, ‘Big Mouth’. It’s dumb, so dumb, but you can’t help huffing out in laughter a little, noticing her eyes on you each time, lingering.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper out, apologising for the headache, for waking her up, for almost hurting her.

“Hey, I shouldn’t have drank that much. I’m just...well, let’s not talk about me.” She hesitates and clears her throat, eyes on the screen.

“You should get some sleep.” She hums in protest saying she doesn’t need it, but within a few minutes you can feel her body moving gently as her breath evens out. You take out your phone and quickly type in the notes ‘Dr Meyer’ and ‘bones breaking experiment’. You haven’t had that dream yet, and you haven’t heard that name, but that’s not unusual. Not all your memories came back considering you were wiped many times. But you’d rather note it down to remember so you don’t forget that it’s a memory if it happens again. When it happens again. Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not. The last thing you type is ‘We cannot learn without pain’, glancing over Natasha’s sleeping figure.

You let Natasha wake up to an empty bed the next morning but a cup of coffee and pancakes are ready for her on the kitchen island. You’re usually like this after a bad night anyway. The morning would be spent alone, most of the time at the gym but you forgot to sign up to one, so you decided to go on a run. Three hours might have been excessive but you really needed it.

Back when you were being held by HYDRA, you were starved, beaten, abused in every way possible. The needles and syringes filled with blue serum is what you could never forget, almost always coming up in your nightmares. Your throat was raw for weeks the first time they inserted the serum into your veins, targeting every muscle group to expand. Feeling your body stretching and expanding is absolutely the worst pain you have felt to this day, but you know that’s most likely because you felt everything back then. You didn’t heal as rapidly as they conditioned you to. They didn’t stop with one serum. They wanted a machine. The ultimate weapon against the Americans, and being from there only made it better for you to infiltrate and destroy rival groups from within.

Not everything came back when S.H.I.E.L.D. put you through therapy, both physical and mental. But the most important things did. Or so you thought. Who the fuck was Dr Meyer?

“Oh! Reagan! Hello, dear, I haven’t seen you around since dinner. How’ve you been?” You practically run into Rebecca on your way back home, almost drenched in your sweat but she doesn’t seem to mind. She looks even worse than before, even more frantic. Her hair isn’t done properly, her makeup isn’t blended in, and she’s not wearing a dress like she usually is. You want to call it sweats but they look fancier, fit her body better. Is that velvet?

“Hi! I’m sorry, I’ve just been a little busy. In fact, I should go shower bef-” You try to escape with a laugh, brushing her over but she grabs onto your wrist. It’s soft, way softer than you expected and there’s a desperation in her eyes that you’re hesitant to deny.

“Please, do you have a minute to spare? I really need to apologise for the other night.” She pleads and you scratch the back of your head when she drops your wrist as a signal, a sign that you have a choice and she wants you to trust her.

“I-I don’t know-”

“Please, Reagan. Come in, it won’t take longer than a minute.” You sigh out and glance around before following her up the steps to her door.

“Sure. But I really can’t stay long.” You stress and she gives you a smile in thanks and shuts the door behind you, stepping back to give you some space.

“Would you like some tea? Coffee? Wa-” She starts off with her hospitality and you sigh again with an impatient look. You’re not even trying to hide it anymore.

“Rebecca, please.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I apologise for my inappropriate behaviour the other night. I was wrong, and I thought I was reading some sort of signals from you, but I guess I misinterpreted. I just…” She starts going off into a rant before you can accept her apology. You sit back on the couch as she talks for a moment, knowing she probably just needs a friend right now. “He never pays attention to me! I have needs, and it’s not just physical. He doesn’t tell me he loves me, he barely looks at me and I wake up an hour before him to get ready, to look perfect, to be perfect. God, this man really thinks jewellery and a shiny stone every fortnight is love. It’s the opposite! It’s like-like payment, like-” Wait, what did she just say?

“I’m sorry, did you just say stone? Like, gemstones?” You interrupt her, suddenly sitting up with a curious look. There is no way. No way.

“Yes! So tacky, right? Every fortnight, Reagan, he brings me a new necklace with a gemstone on it. And I know he can’t afford it because I promise you some of them are missing from my collection! That bastard takes them back. I cannot believe he…” Well. Shit. You were wrong. You can’t believe you were fucking wrong.

“Nat! Nat, are you still home?!” You burst into the house, slamming the door shut behind you and kicking your shoes off. Natasha comes down the stairs nonchalantly, heels in her hand and suitcase in the other. She’s dressed in a white pantsuit and you’d be drooling if this was any other moment.

“Calm down, I’m still here. Your pancakes and coffee were cold by the way, what time did you leave?” She complains, sitting on the couch to put her heels on.

“I was wrong. Fuck, I was wrong. I thought she was running operations. I mean, can you blame me? He looks incompetent, the man can’t tie his laces without his wife’s help!” You rant, pacing back and forth as you strip your wet, sweat-soaked shirt off. It’s sticky and you’re feeling hot and overwhelmed and so stupid. Everything you had planned out was for Rebecca, to take her down.

“Okay, can you breathe for a second? What’s going on? What did you find out?” You don’t miss the way Natasha gulps and glances over your body before standing up and gripping onto your biceps to stop you from moving. Under normal circumstances, you’d be commenting with a smirk on how she did that only as an excuse to touch you.

“Rebecca just apologised for coming onto me at dinner and-”

“Excuse me?” She cuts you off with a raised brow as her hands leave your skin to cross her arms over her chest.

“Not the time! She said Seth’s version of affection is giving her gemstones every fortnight. Gemstones, Natasha. And they disappear from her collection after a while.” Natasha’s eyes widen for a moment as the realisation, sitting back down on the couch to take it all in. You sit down on the coffee table in front of her, your knees brushing against hers.

“So you’re telling me Seth is the mastermind?”

“Seth is the fucking mastermind.”

Chapter Text

It was Natasha’s decision to lay low for a few days to not raise any suspicion. To be fair to her, you two were surprisingly getting to the end of this mission at a fast rate. Perhaps taking it slow would be the best option for now, even though you were excited and bursting with plans and ideas.

It was quite incompetant of S.H.I.E.L.D. to send members of the Avengers on a long undercover mission. First off, with your skills it wouldn’t take long to uncover an operation like this at all. Secondly, what if you were needed? What if there was another alien attack, another wannabe villain trying to get their 5 minutes of fame, another threat to the universe? You’d be all the way here playing newly-weds while the others needed you. It’s just impractical, so maybe trying to get this done as soon as possible would be the best option. Natasha disagreed.

A week later, it’s finally Sunday, so both you and Natasha have the day off. You woke up in the same bed, limbs unintentionally tangled with each other, both blushing as you tried to let go but clashed instead. That’s how you’ve been waking up every day for the last week and in all honesty sometimes you pretend to be asleep so you’d stay cuddled with her. This mission is making things harder for you rather than easier; it’s too hard to get over her when you wake up under her every morning, her soft and hot breath against your chest or neck, body warm and fitting so perfectly against yours.

Waking up, you were both desperate for some coffee but found none, so Natasha volunteered to run to the store. You finally have the time to FaceTime Wanda.

‘Hey, Red. God, I missed you.’ She answers you quickly with a wide smile as always, sitting on her bed, already blushing at your words.

‘Hi! You look chirpy this morning, have you had your coffee already?’ She waves through the screen with a giggle and you can’t help laughing back. Her laughter, her smile, it’s all contagious. It’s nice seeing her happy as opposed to how depressed she was after Ultron.

‘Oh, not yet, we ran out. Nat’s just rushed to the store. So, what’ve you been up to? How’s everyone at the compound?’ Her smile deflates a little when you mention Natasha, almost like she’d forgotten you were here with her. As guilty as you might feel about that, it’s starting to get a little frustrating seeing her upset all the time. You didn’t have a choice in this situation. Just when you needed a break, everything was sprung on you last minute, even Wanda sprung herself and her feelings on you last minute.

‘Not much, I’ve just been reading, training, trying to get to know everyone a little more. It’s hard without you, though.’ Wanda explains, readjusting so she’s laying on her stomach with her phone in her hands. Her hair flows down and frames her face, the tips of her hair brushing over her chest that’s very visible in the tank top she’s wearing. She can’t notice your eyes drifting down there through the screen, right?

‘Oh, I know, love. I’m proud of you, though. I know being social and opening up isn’t easy for you. Well done for trying.’ You mirror her pout before smiling at her. You really are proud of her for going out of her comfort zone. From what Steve’s told you, she’s been joining in with movie night again, even offering to cook dinner one night for the group. It’s nice to see her allowing herself to be welcomed and integrated into the group properly. Into this family.

‘Tony’s still an asshole, though.’ She whispers quietly as if he could hear her from the confinements of her room. You snort at that and lean back on the couch.

‘Wouldn’t expect any less from him.’ She laughs along with you, subtly biting her lip as she thinks of what else to tell you.

‘Steve’s actually really nice. He was the kindest to me after what happened to...to Pietro. Other than you, of course. I’ve been training with him since Thor went back to Asgard.’ She always hesitates a little when saying his name like it hurts to let the letters form. There’s a sad look in her eyes that you wish you could make disappear by brushing your thumb over her furrowed brows. Instead you give her an apologetic smile like you usually do, and try to swerve the subject.

‘Oh? Why’s he gone back now?’

‘Something about his father, and mayhem across the realms.’ She mocks Thor’s accent and it’s hilarious especially considering she still can’t perfect an American accent. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you! Vision’s back.’ She bursts out excitedly and you weren’t expecting that wide smile on her face.

‘Ah, Stark’s son.’ You’ve only met Vision maybe once or twice before he disappeared, going off to ‘explore’ - at least that’s what Tony said.

‘He’s different .’ Wanda emphasises that Tony’s an asshole and Vision is not. You don’t really know what he is, so you don’t want to judge, but you don’t really like the way Wanda’s defending him.

‘He’s a microwave.’ You mock playfully and she rolls her eyes at you with a small smile she can’t fight.

‘No, he’s changed. He’s been travelling, learning more about the world. He says that while he has data, experience is a different thing. Knowing something is different to feeling something.’ Well. He sure sounds wise, and she’s quoting him? You thought you were the ‘wise one’. Apparently not.

‘Uh huh. What the hell does a robot know about feeling?’ You mutter, struggling to shove down the little green devil within you.

‘I-I don’t know. He can explain it better than I can. He’s been taking me out, showing me around the city more. He wants to take me on a weekend road trip to Virginia. It seems he likes human history, and apparently it’s-’ Okay, no. Road trips? Only the two of them? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

‘The birthplace of a nation. First English settlement.’ You interrupt to show off your knowledge, knowing it’s something Wanda values. Not that she’ll ever doubt your knowledge. ‘Can you...Can you, like, feel him? Like his thoughts and emotions and stuff? You know, since he’s not a living being.’ It’s a weird question but you can’t help your curiosity. You know Wanda couldn’t read Ultron’s mind because she told you, but since Vision is ‘different’ like she keeps insisting, maybe he has an aura. Would that make him more human, or living?

‘Kind of. I feel something, but I’m not sure what it is yet. It’s not the same, it’s different.’ Wanda says with a soft smile on her face, staring off above the screen rather than at you. Oh. Her attention isn’t on you. That’s...new.

‘Good different or bad different?’ 

‘Well, Vis says all different is good different because it teaches us something new.’ Oh, Vis, the fucking wise one. You don’t have a cheat code. You read everything, you studied it all, you suffered and learned and what did he do? He’s a walking computer, his mind is a database. You earned your knowledge, you earned Wanda’s admiration.

‘Huh. Vis.’ You clench your jaw a little, not being able to contain your jealousy at this point.

‘Yes, Vision. Are you okay? Have you been sleeping well?’ Wanda notices the tension immediately, brows furrowing together in concern.

‘I-’ You think for a moment before your jealousy takes over completely. ‘No, not really. I had a nightmare the other night and woke Nat up. She calmed me down pretty fast though, but I couldn’t sleep the whole night. She slept like a baby though, even with the TV on.’ You don’t need to say you’ve been sleeping in the same bed, it was pretty obvious. Wanda clearly inferred it from what you said, a small and sad smile on her face. You immediately regret it. Immediately.

‘I’m glad you have someone who can help you, Y/N.’ And she’s being so nice about it. God, why do you have to be such an ass?

‘I-Thank you, Red. Hey, look, I’m so-’ You start with your apology but she gasps and makes you jump all of a sudden, breaking your train of thought.

‘Vis! I told you to stop doing that, we talked about this! Y/N, I’m sorry, I have to get going. Call me later?’ You hear what can only be described as a robotic voice in the background as she looks ahead, over the phone, over you , with a wide smile on her face.

‘Right, yeah, totally. Bye Red, have-’ She hangs up before you finish. “Fun.” Well that fucking sucked. As happy as you are that she’s making friends, Vision seems more than a friend. A best friend, a partner, even. You were her best friend. You knew you were right last night; jealousy corrupts humanity. Nanny Bertha has clearly misinterpreted the Greeks.

“Why do you look sad, weirdo?” Natasha’s voice snaps your head to the side as the door slams shut behind her. She grumbles as she walks in, clearly grumpy like she usually is in the mornings. 

“I’m not sad, weirdo.” You mock her, standing up and following her into the kitchen. It’s become routine at this point for you to hop up and sit on the kitchen island, watching Natasha do the only thing she can do here: make coffee.

“That’s why you’re staring at the ceiling with sad, puppy eyes?” She pouts mockingly and you roll your eyes at her, throwing an apple that she catches easily. She washes it and cuts it in half, giving you the other half. Breakfast is almost always disorganised, both of you eating whatever you touch or think of first.

“Wanda’s just told me Vision is back. Seems like I’m being replaced.” You confess quietly, the crunch of the apple louder than your voice.

“You could never be replaced. Think of it this way; you and Wanda are each other’s first friends on this team. It’s like if I said I’m being replaced when Clint hangs out with Tony or anyone else.” She does make a good point, but you’re still not following. This is different to her and Clint, so different. Of course she doesn’t know the complications of that, and you’re not willing to confess that anytime soon.

“Right…” You try to follow her point.

“That friendship you two have, that bond , no one can break that. Nothing can get in the way of what you two have.” She offers you a soft smile and you take it. Maybe she’s right. Your friendship with Wanda means everything to you. You shouldn’t let jealousy get in the way of that, especially when you told her you don’t want her to wait for you. You know you love her, but in love? Surely you would have known before if you had feelings for her. Perhaps you got caught up in this, accidentally blurred the line between platonic and romantic love.

“Yeah. Friendship.” You murmur into your cup of coffee as you sip, contemplating what to do at this point. You really love Wanda and don’t know where the hell you’d be without her, so the idea of losing her really scares you. You’re more likely to lose her over a lover’s spat than an argument between two best friends. Is it worth the risk? Is romantic love really worth it? Plato did say ‘The madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings.’ Are you truly in love if you aren’t at least a little mad? If you don’t make impulsive and risky decisions? Love isn’t stable; love is spontaneous.

“Hey, I think we should break into Seth’s office tonight.” Oh. Well, that spontaneity is just a coincidence. “I’m tired of waiting. We know he’s behind it, we just need to find evidence. Papers, transactions, plans, blueprints, anything that would hold in court.” Natasha emphasises, waiting as you open up your laptop.

“And where is he likely to keep documents? His office. Smart thinking, Natty.” You tease with a wink, ignoring the nudge she gives you.

“You don’t need to act here.” You turn to glance at her, noticing the blush on her cheeks. God, she’s adorable. Does Bruce never compliment her or something? No nicknames, terms of endearment, nothing? You’ve only ever heard him call her ‘Nat’ but you thought that was because they were both anti-PDA.

“It’s growing on me.”

“Really?” She asks curiously, tilting her head at you. You glance over at her again, giving her a soft smile.

“Yeah, why? You don’t think it’s cute, Natty?” Natasha’s cheeks turn pink again, this time lightly holding your chin to turn your head away from her and back towards the screen.

“Shut up and tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to hack into their system and get blueprints or something.” You were already hacking yourself, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. would probably do it faster. Within a minute, you have the downloaded blueprint of Seth’s office building, studying it and creating a plan of action.

A couple hours later Natasha was all geared up and ready to go. She decided it was best if she goes, considering she’s smaller and more stealthy than you are. You protested but she insisted and it’s hard to argue with a stubborn Nat, so you pout the whole way to your shop, slightly worried about her. You told her to call you anyway if she ran into trouble, you just hope she takes you up on your offer. Opening your shop for a while gives you an alibi in case anything goes wrong, and you could in turn say Natasha was at home on her off-day, feeling a little under the weather, so she sent you to work to avoid you catching a cold from her. Thorough.

Checking your phone, you see Wanda still hasn’t sent you her daily selfie and it’s already late. She’s probably too busy with Vis to be sending you selfies. It’s not like you want to be acting like this, but what the hell could they have in common? He’s travelled, she hasn’t. He’s a robot, she’s a human. He doesn’t understand her, her trauma, how could he possibly understand? How could he help her like you could? How could he love anyone let alone her? He doesn’t understand love.

Neither do you if you’re being honest with yourself. You haven’t loved before, not like this. Not like how quickly you fell for Nat, so fucking hard, so unexpected. It was one look from her, one smile, and you were all in. You could feel her smile tugging at your heart saying ‘love me, only me’ and you thought you did. You thought it was only her. Maybe it still is, maybe you got caught up in the moment with Wanda, maybe Natasha’s right and friendship is more important. But the thought of her with Vision, her laughing with him, cuddling his cold, metal body, - she’s always so cold anyway and you’re always so hot - looking into his eyes, reading his mind or whatever the fuck is up there, it hurts. It feels like...like betrayal, and you know that’s unfair to say, but fuck it that’s how you feel. Like she’s replaced you the second you were gone.

Maybe that’s how Maria felt. Like she was just a substitute for Natasha, like she was replaced. Years of building something with Maria just for it to turn into nothing when you joined the Avengers and first laid your eyes on the redhead. What goes around comes around then, huh?

Your phone ringing startles you out of your thoughts; you immediately answer, seeing Nat’s caller ID.

“You okay?” You were already a little worried and paranoid all day but hearing her breathing heavily and trying to whisper only makes you feel worse. You immediately start packing up, grabbing your keys to close shop.

“I’m locked in. 17th floor. Can’t count how many agents.” Natasha whispers, voice pleading a little for help. What neither of you prepared for was agents. Body guards, yes. But agents? This sounds like more than just a jewel theft operation.

“Stay hidden, I’m on my way.” Driving recklessly with your heart almost beating out of your chest, you make it there in less than two minutes, messily parking the car. You put your mask on and grab your bag of essentials, running to the back entrance of the tall building. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Show me the blueprint, and hack into their security systems.” You wait, scrolling through the blueprint to memorise a route to Natasha. The second the light turns green, you burst through the door and run up the stairs. It’s eerily quiet the first few floors until you reach about halfway, finally hearing the buzzing of walkie talkies, mumbling voices, and heavy footsteps.

“I sweeped the floor, there’s no one there.” You hear an agent’s deep voice speak out above. “Wasting my damn time, Karl.” He grumbles as the door slams shut.

“It’s always fucking Karl.” Another one speaks out, the rest murmuring in agreement. You kind of feel bad for Karl now. Poor guy was only trying to do his job.

“Guys, the alarm went off, come on. I’m telling you, someone broke in.” Karl groans out, coming down the stairs and you step back to stay out of view. The others don’t follow him, giving you the perfect opportunity. Before he can yell out, you sucker punch him in the face, catching him and laying him down on the floor.

“Sorry, pal.” You whisper to his unconscious form, taking his weapons and bulletproof vest. As you take off his jacket, you freeze in your tracks at what catches your eye. It’s unmissable; that logo stands out big and bright for your vision, conditioning fear into your body. What the hell are HYDRA agents doing here? With a sudden surge of anger in your veins, you rise up to your feet and slowly make your way up the stairs. You don’t give any of them a chance to fight back, immediately shooting them in their kneecaps with speed and accuracy. Five of them go down, one crawling towards the gun he dropped.

“Fucking bit-” You step on his gun and he immedaitely growls at you, but your boot breaks his nose with a satisfying crunch before he can spit out another word. You run up the stairs to get to the 17th floor, fighting your way through every agent in your path. A hoard of them came down, hearing the ear-popping gunshots. It’s not the most subtle way you could have done this, but the anger and adrenaline running through your veins will get you through this. When you reach closer to Natasha’s floor, you kick a frail agent’s kneecap breaking it; he drops to the floor screaming in agony and passes out seconds later. With a sigh, you step over his body and reach the next floor, stopping in your tracks when you see a massive agent in front of you. And by massive, you mean at least double your size, unnaturally huge. Natasha flashes through your mind again and you grunt, shaking your body.

“Come on, then.” You huff out with your arms out, stance ready for defence as the monster of an agent runs towards you. He towers over you, easy for you to slip down and slide between his legs, fist punching up against his unprotected private part. “Ouch, that must hurt.” You hiss as he drops to his knees with a loud grunt. Wrapping your legs around his neck, he falls back struggling against you as you strangle him. His fists bang against you, bruising you with his strength. You keep your hold tight on him but it does nothing as he slowly sits up, slamming back down forcing you to let go. You’re pretty sure you hear a crack but you push the pain aside, quickly wrapping your legs around him again, elbowing his head repeatedly. This time he stands up, your head almost hitting the ceiling, and he throws you onto the steps. The pain is sharp in your side, causing you to cry out, but all you can think of is Natasha. Natasha’s in danger, Natasha needs your help, you need to save Natasha. Grabbing an unconscious agent’s gun, you don’t hesitate to shoot him in his shoulder. It rips through him and he continues walking towards you with a growl; you have no choice but to shoot him again, and again, and again until he drops to the ground on his knees with a loud thud.

“Hail. HYDRA.” He uses his final breath to praise the organisation that made you the monster you are. He closes his eyes, ready for death, and your hand shakes with the gun pointed at his head. You don’t kill. You can’t kill. Otherwise, you’re no better than they are. You opt to throw a powerful punch, knocking him out and cracking your knuckles in the process. Shaking it off and taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you kick open the door to the 17th floor, gun out in front of you ready to shoot. It’s pure darkness apart from the moonlight shining through the all glass walls and windows of the floor. The pain in your side and back is numb at this point, Natasha’s safety on your mind. F.R.I.D.A.Y. puts up Natasha’s location in front of you and you follow the flashing red dot until you find a janitor’s closet. Slowly opening the door, you turn the light on but see it empty apart from supplies. Sighing as the gun drops to your side, you rub your forehead with your hand, zooming in to check the location again on the glasses, but you let out a yelp when something heavy lands on your shoulders, squeezing around your neck. You drop to the floor and immediately realise it’s Natasha from her scent. Tapping against her thighs, you’re kind of wishing you were facing the other way.

“It’s me! It’s me, damn, this move really is effective.” You take in a harsh breath when she lets you go with a gasp and snort, covering her mouth.

“I’m sorry! I saw the mask, gun, vest, I assumed-”

“It’s fine. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You interrupt her when you notice a little blood trickling down from her brow. Raising your hands to inspect her face, you turn her cheek towards you, frowning more at yourself for not coming here with her. She’s still kind of laughing at what just happened but she calms down when she notices the concerned look on your face.

“Just a scratch. This was a bust, I only found a couple transactions, but no proof that it’s jewels. The amount of money is enough to raise suspicion, but it’s still not enough evidence.” Natasha sighs, looking down at your hands covered in a mix of her blood and HYDRA agents. She knows you did it for her, and that only adds to the guilt she feels for her failure on this mission.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ve only been here a month. This is good progress.” You reassure her that this mission isn’t a complete failure with your hand back up to lightly hold her cheek. She leans into your touch slightly before clearing her throat and shaking you off. Your hand moves back quickly as you stand up. You open the bag you carried with you, passing her a bottle of water she quickly sips and throws back into the bag. She finds the extra mask you got for her and puts it on.

“I know, I know.” She mumbles. You hold your hand out for her to hold.

“Let’s go home and get you patched up, yeah?” She grabs your hand for support and pulls herself up, not missing the cringe and hiss you let out at the pressure against your ribs and back.

“You’re hurt?” She follows you as you hold your arm out to keep her behind you, gun held in front of you as you scan the floor again. Hearing and seeing no one, you quickly start moving towards the stairwell.

“I’m healing.” You whisper back to her, rolling your eyes at her reaction to the sounds your body is making.

“Where? Oh God, what’s that sound?” Natasha almost gags at the sound she can hear from behind you. You practically run down the steps, knowing some of the agents could be waking up any minute now.

“Just my bones forming again.” 

“Bones?!” Natasha yells out at your response, freezing in her spot. You grab her hand to keep her moving down the steps. She glances around, stepping over the bodies of passed out agents, in awe of you for taking them all down to get to her.

“Shh! Yes, my bones. Broke something in my back, and I'm pretty sure my ribs are broken too. Do you want a milkshake? I’m craving a milkshake.” You keep her quiet, finally leaving the building and throwing the bag in the trunk of your car.

“Y/N! You can’t just-You’re-How-Just stop! Stop, stop, I’m driving.” Natasha stutters in shock before groaning out in frustration. You sigh and turn around to face her to try reason with her.

“Natasha, I’ve had worse. I promise I’m fine.” She shakes her head at your response, stubbornly getting into the driver’s seat.

“I’m driving.” She leans no room for argument in her tone and you’re in the perfect amount of pain to make you a little submission, so you wince as you climb into the passenger seat, throwing your mask onto the backseat. It’s only then that she notices the bruising and swelling across your face, gasping in shock and guilt. “Y/N…”

“I’m fine. Please, can we just go home? I ordered milkshakes so we have to beat the driver.” She didn’t notice you ordering on your glasses when you were rushing down the steps, but you got her strawberry knowing it’s her favourite. It only takes 10 minutes to get back home, both of you rushing inside just a minute before the delivery driver knocks on your door. Natasha answers the door with a smile, kindly thanking him. She leaves the bag in the freezer to keep it cold, grabbing the medkit and a couple rags with a bowl of water.

“Sit down.” She demands in a raspy voice and you gulp at how fucking hot she sounds taking control. You don’t hesitate to listen to her, staying down on the couch. She sits on the coffee table in front of you, wiping the blood off your face with the rag. The warm water makes you want to close your eyes, but you can’t, not when she’s looking at you so intently, not when you’re this close to her face. From this close you can see it all; the specks of yellow in her green eyes, her button nose, her slightly chapped lips. “Shirt off.” She whispers, her hot breath against your cheek. Holy shit.

“Yes, ma’am.” You tease with a nervous chuckle, letting her sit back as you strip your tank top off, leaving you bare in your sports bra. Her breath hitches as she sees the bruises all over your skin, guilt taking over her features. “It’s okay. My bones have healed already. It’s just bruising.” You whisper this time, reassuring her, taking away from her guilt. You’ll take all the guilt she carries on her heart if you could.

“You didn’t have-”

“Don’t even think about saying shit like that, Nat.” You lay down on your side to signalise the end of that conversation. You let her sit on the couch next to you, her bare thigh rubbing against your naked abs as she massages lotion over your bruised ribs. Your breath hitches at the coldness, but her hands are warm against you, gently soothing you. That’s not the only reason your breath hitches, and you don’t fail to notice the blush on her face when she touches your defined muscles.

There’s scars littered on your skin that she’s noticed before, but she’s never seen them this close. Unfortunately, any scars stayed if you had them before the serum finally worked. It was months of torture and experiments before they perfected the serum, and that torture included inflicting pain on you to ‘test’ if an experiment had worked. There were more failures than successes.

“These don’t heal?” She mumbles curiously, tempted to trace them with her fingers but instead nudges you gently to ask you to lay down on your stomach. You do so with a wince, gulping nervously when she straddles your hips, her heat against your thighs. She’s taking her sweet time as well, and of course you don’t mind that at all, but it’s becoming glaringly obvious that you’re going to need a cold shower after this.

“Was before.” You mumble as she rubs the cold lotion against your back, massaging it into your swollen skin painted in blue, green, and purple.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, fingers lightly digging into your shoulders. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let out a soft moan, noticing how her fingers still for a moment too long.

“What for?” You answer after clearing your throat. She takes that as permission to massage your shoulders a little while longer, pulling out tiny sounds of pleasure from you.

“That the world we live in is cruel to the good hearted.” Your heart pulses in your chest at her words. You don’t like sympathy, but this is different. It’s different because she understands.

“Was cruel to you too.” You whisper quietly when she gets off of you, letting you sit up properly. You’re not sure why you’re even whispering in this silent, empty home, your home. It’s not like anyone can hear you, and you’ve told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to automatically scan for bugs the moment you step into the house. Natasha sits down next to you as she wipes her hand on the rag.

“I’m proud of you. For not being cruel back.” Her smile is soft towards you, voice smooth and gentle. God, she could lull you to sleep with how comfortable and at ease she makes you feel.

“I was. For a little while.” You sigh, leaning forward to take a clean rag and dab it in the water. You both turn to sit crossing your legs, facing one another as your knees rub against each other. She closes her eyes as she lets you cleanse the blood off her face. She has a tiny cut above her eyebrow, but thankfully it doesn’t look deep enough to scar. Not that she’d look any different in your eyes, she’s always beautiful, but it would raise suspicion for people to see a new scar there.

“That wasn’t you.” Natasha says a little louder with finality in her tone but you still argue back. It was you, it’s all you; you learnt to take responsibility for what you’ve done.

“It was. It’s part of me, a part I have to accept.” She doesn’t argue against that anymore, closing her eyes once again when you brush her hair to the side. You gently put a plaster over the clean cut, brushing your thumb over it softly.

“I accept it. You’re...You’re kind, selfless, generous, so damn grateful for literally everything.” You both let out a huff of laughter, your hand still on skin, rubbing her scar soothingly. “You’re good.” Your throat croaks a little when you clear it as you try and push back your tears. Sometimes you just need to hear that, especially after a mission where you’ve had to hurt people. Wanda knows because she’s always in your mind, but Natasha knows because she understands. She knows because people have been cruel to her for her entire life , and she’s had to fight the urge to be cruel back. You lean in close, noticing the deep and sharp intake of breath she takes as your lips gently kiss over her plastered scar. It’s so tiny, and you’re treating it like it’s massive, like it’s your fault that she’s hurt and you just want to heal her. You just want to make her feel better.

“I won’t be cruel.” You whisper to her, even quieter than before as your eyes meet hers and lock there praying you never have to look away. “Not to you. Never to you, Nat.” Her lips quiver when she lets out a sigh and you don’t hesitate to breathe her in, letting her scent overtake your senses.

“Y/N…” She whispers your name and your second hand comes up to cup her jaw, the other tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Never.” Her breathing is heavy against your lips as her eyes struggle to make a decision on where to look. Those greens flick open and closed, up to your intense eyes and down to your wet lips as you quickly slide your tongue over your bottom lip. Natasha practically whimpers at the movement, her hand moving to grip the naked skin on your hip. Lavender fills your senses and you lose all focus and control.

[A/N - SMUT WARNING]

“Kiss m-” That's all you need to fill the gap between your lips and hers, finally attaching your lips to hers for the first time. She gasps into the kiss immediately, lips quivering at the sheer amount of passion you pour into her; your lips move against hers with intense need, brows furrowed together overcome with emotion. Her fingers knead your skin while you keep the pace slow, trying to communicate through your lips. When you finally pull away slowly and look into her eyes, that’s when you realise you were wrong . You contemplated what this was, what you were feeling for her, whether it was pure lust. You know it’s the complete other side of the spectrum when you lean in again, keeping your eyes locked to hers as your lips brush together so gently, just to feel her close to you. She doesn’t want to break her gaze either, her fingers digging into your side as your hand cups her jaw and the other holds the back of her neck. Silently, she falls back, pulling you with her, brushing her nose against yours as she leans up to gently kiss you again, and again, and again until she’s certain of what she’s feeling too.

“Please.” You whisper against her lips, fearing she might break away, might run from the intensity overwhelmed with the shocks every time your skin touches hers, every time your lips fit perfectly together. Instead, Natasha wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in like she’s the one scared you’ll run. She attaches her lips to yours again, kissing you harder this time with need. Natasha Romanoff needs you and you’re surprised that you’re still alive with how fast your heart is beating against your ribs.

Natasha slowly picks up the pace as you let her choose, let her take control. Hot hands burn your back like fire, nails scratching along your skin, sensitive to her touch. Moaning softly into her mouth, you grind your hips down against her, earning yourself a moan too and holy fuck you want to hear that again. You grind against her until she has to break away from your lips to let out soft whines and sighs, guiding your head to her neck where you lay soft kisses. You need to make sure you kiss every inch of her neck that she displays by throwing her head back further, letting you gently scrape your teeth against her skin before sucking faint marks into her, still not sure how she feels about those. The progression from soft and gentle moans to loud and urgent ones tells you all you need to know about how Natasha feels about marking.

Sinking your teeth into her neck, you grind down again as her nails dig into your naked back. Your bodies fit together like you were moulded for each other, but you need more. The second your lips touched, hell, the second you laid your eyes on her you knew you could never get enough of Natasha. You readjust until your thigh is pressed between her legs and she immediately lets out a desperate whine at that, rolling her hips against your muscled thigh.

“You’re so…” You trail off, having no words to describe her. The English language - any language you know for that matter - hasn’t invented the word to describe Natasha.

“So?” She pants out, slowing down a little as her hand sifts through your hair. With parted lips, she looks up at you curiously, failing to suppress a soft smile at your features. She leans up, unable to stop herself from tasting your lips again.

“Everything. You’re everything.” You mumble against her lips, kissing her harder as you slide your tongue over her bottom lip this time, begging for access. She lets you in with ease, sighing into your mouth as you take your time to explore. Natasha can feel how badly you’ve been wanting this, so she lets you take your time to memorise the feel of her tongue against your tongue, her skin against your skin, your thigh against her core . Her heat, pressing up against you, radiating, heating up your entire body, lighting up every spark of desire in you. 

Your hands, fuck, your hands that have ached to touch her finally get to trail along her soft body, kneading the skin on her curvy hips as her shirt rises up. Taking a risk, you slowly slip your hands further up her soft yet toned stomach, fingers grazing the bottom of her bra-covered chest. She arches her back at that with a gasp, like that slither of a touch over thick material is too intense for her, like she’s been deprived of contact for years. You move your hands away quickly but she whimpers in response.

“No, please, don’t stop.” Natasha begs, and you almost never hear her begging. It hits your core directly; you can feel yourself throbbing around nothing, desperate to hear her beg for you again. She tries to overpower you but naturally can’t, so you give her a little help as she flips you over. You watch her with wide eyes as she sits up, plump lips parted taking sharp breaths in as she rolls her hips against your thigh. Feeling your hands around her hips under her shirt, she slowly grips the bottom of the material, keeping her eyes locked to yours as she lifts it up revealing new skin that you can’t wait to feel your lips on.

“Aphrodite.” You murmur when she throws her head back, letting out soft moans and whimpers of pleasure, perfectly sculpted breasts spilling out the top of their confinements. Goddess of beauty, pleasure, love.

“Natasha.” She leans down to whisper into your ear, playfully correcting you to take attention away from the blush on her cheeks, along her chest. You make her swoon, make her feel good about herself, and she’s not used to it. You can tell she’s not used to it and you think it’s a crime that no one takes the time to make her feel good about herself.

“One and the same.” You mumble, kissing her again, moaning softly at the new feeling of her hot skin against yours. “He doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” You say a lot more clearly than anything else you’ve said tonight. It’s risky, and you expect her to pause in her tracks, jump off you and throw insults and curses at the reminder of her boyfriend. Instead, Natasha lets a filthy moan escape her throat. That’s all the approval you need. “You’re a goddess, Natasha.” You tug at her sports bra until she sits up a little to let you pull it off. “You deserve to be worshipped like one.”

“Fuck, Y/N, please.” She begs again and it throbs through your entire body just like the first time you heard it. You make sure to not look down yet at her exposed chest, instead staring into her eyes, your hand coming up to gently cup her cheek.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve laid my eyes on.” Her eyes soften at your confession, knowing you weren’t lying to her. You’d never. You’ve seen powerful countries rise and fall, historical landscapes be built, wrecked, and rebuilt, women all over the world, decades of beauty, yet you just told Natasha that no one and nothing compares to her. Your lips collide unexpectedly fast, Natasha coming down as you come up, both of you desperately clinging onto each other. That is all the confirmation you need to stand up with her still in your arms, her whole body wrapping around you refusing to break away. You’ve navigated through much harder than a couple steps in your past, so you easily make your way up the route your body has memorised to your shared bedroom, laying her down on the bed without breaking your lips from hers.

You’re addicted, but she’s not a drug; she couldn’t possibly be bad for you, not when this feels like you’ve been dead for your 102 years of life until this very moment. Not when you’ve been needing her, deprived of this indescribable and overwhelming feeling of touching her, kissing her, just looking at her in this state.

“Touch me.” Natasha pants out, her hand in your hair to tug your lips down to her neck with desperate need. You waste no time to give her what she wants, sucking marks into her neck, biting down and licking the wounds to soothe the ache. Her moan is a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that replays in your head again and again like a song that refuses to be forgotten. You could never forget.

“Here?” You ask her teasingly as you kiss along her collarbone. That enough has Natasha arching her back; just your lips on her skin is heating her up, fueling that ache and pulse between her legs.

“Anywhere. I just want you.” She says the exact right words, looking down at you with nothing but adoration and need in her eyes, her voice deep and filled with desperation. Your lips quickly find their way down, laying soft kisses over her flesh until you reach her peaked buds. Experimentally, you give one a gentle kiss that has Natasha immediately whimpering, almost in pain because of the amount of deprivation. “Please, Y/N.” Natasha whines out again and you’re done teasing her - you weren’t even really intending to tease, you just want to take your time with her skin under your fingertips, hot against your lips. Laying your tongue flat against her nipple, you earn yourself a loud moan of relief and her nails scratching along your indestructible skin; you wish you could feel the sharp mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Moan for me.” You demand before flicking your tongue over her peaked bud over and over again, wrapping your lips around it and sucking hard enough for Natasha to arch her back into you. Her hands reach up and grip your locks, keeping your lips exactly where she wants them as she lets out filthy moans. You’re almost vibrating with need, almost moaning yourself just at the sound of Natasha’s moans, her sounds that you’re pulling out of her.

Pulling your mouth away, a string of saliva stretches from her peaked bud to your bottom lip and Natasha can’t help whimpering desperately at the sight, tugging you up to attach her lips to yours. This time she’s the one that slips her tongue into your mouth, exploring everything you have to offer. You roll your hips against hers, giving her some sort of relief while she takes her time just to feel your lips against hers, letting her tongue dance with yours. There’s no fight for dominance, she doesn’t want to dominate and neither do you; you just want to feel each other, memorise every inch, every feeling, every moan and groan and whimper and whine and everything. Natasha tugging at the material left on your chest pulls you away from her, sitting up to pull your sports bra off. As you go down to kiss her, missing her lips already, her hands roam over your body until she reaches your chest, rolling your nipples between her finger and thumb. You can’t help groaning into the kiss, pulling away to leave kisses down her neck.

“Moan for me.” She breathes out teasingly, mocking your earlier statement. You huff against her neck, sinking your teeth into her skin. Natasha gasps and arches against you, tugging on your nipples as revenge. Both of you moan against each other, overwhelmed already before either of you have touched each other where you crave the most. Kissing down her body, you make sure your lips touch every inch of skin available, tongue peaking out to brush over her nipples once more, giving them a final tug with your lips before descending. Her stomach is so soft you almost don’t want to mark it, but every artist starts with a pale, blank canvas before creating a masterpiece. You take your time littering her skin with purple, blue, red marks, soothing every wound with your tongue.

“Fuck, I can smell how wet you are.” You moan out in response to the scent invading your senses. With your enhanced abilities, all your senses are extra sensitive and she smells intoxicating. Natasha whimpers at your reaction when she looks down and sees your eyes dark with lust. You tear open her leggings, not having the patience anymore after getting a teaser.

“Shit.” Natasha moans out, throbbing at the sound of the fabric ripping and your sudden aggression. Without another word, you lean forward and swipe your tongue over the thin lace of her panties, just wanting a taste. Both of you moan together at the first touch, Natasha arching her back again; looking up to see her hickey covered chest and peaked buds has your pussy throbbing too. She’s completely soaked through her panties, another indicator that she doesn’t just want this but needs this. Pulling her panties to the side to reveal her pink pussy and glistening folds, you salivate just at the sight.

“Are you-”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’m sure while you’re staring at my pussy, I’m going to do my thigh move on you.” Natasha frustratedly tells you off, sitting up to rest on her elbows as she glares down at you. Her thigh move, huh?

“Please do.” You mumble with a smirk. She rolls her eyes at you, her hips jerking up towards you a little impatiently. Finally, you lick through her slit with your eyes still locked to hers. She struggles to keep her gaze on you when she sighs out in pleasure and bites her lip in relief. Your warm tongue expertly slides through her folds, already addicted to the sweet and tangy taste. You get why she’s always slicing fruit in the mornings. Natasha’s thighs do try and squeeze your head anyway, desperate for you to pick up your pace, but you keep her legs spread and her strength is nothing compared to yours.

“Please, I need you, Y/N.” The redhead begs for you with pouty lips and you’re not one to bother trying to resist a goddess like her. Your tongue immediately slides into her throbbing hole, twisting and swirling inside as you moan at the taste, vibrations reaching her pulsing clit. Her hips roll against you, hands finding their way into your locks to tug. She’s already desperate, already throbbing around your tongue, juices flowing into your mouth and holy fuck you don’t want a single drop to go to waste. You let go of one of her thighs hoping she’ll obey you and she does by keeping her legs spread apart. Your hand trails up her body until you cup a breast in your hand, kneading, squeezing, pinching her hard bud. “Ugh, more, please, more.” Natasha moans, chants, begs for you. You slide your tongue out and she whimpers at the loss but chokes out a groan when your lips wrap around her sensitive clit instead. You release her other thigh to gently tease her entrance with a finger. Natasha’s moans only get louder as she rolls her hips faster, begging for you to just fuck her.

“You taste heavenly.” You tell her, eyes locked onto her exposed neck with her head thrown back. “Feel heavenly.” You groan out when you push your finger in, feeling her pussy pulse around your single digit, pulling it in greedy for more. “Look heavenly.” You say when her head drops down to look at you, panting with her mouth hung open, brows furrowed together in pleasure. Her chest moves as she lets out whines, whimpers, moans and groans in shorter yet faster sounds. Her hips roll wildly against you when you roll her nipple between your fingers, fucking her deeply with another digit joining the lone finger. Flicking your tongue over her clit languidly, letting yourself enjoy how amazing she tastes, you memorise the way her body reacts to every touch. Her breath hitches with each flick of your tongue, back arches with each tweak of her hard bud, hips roll with every curl of your fingers. God, she’s mesmerising. You just know you’re never getting this image, these sounds out of your head. Her pussy sounds downright filthy when you pick up the pace, the palm of your hand slapping her clit hard as you kiss your way up her body to watch her face scrunched up in pleasure. “Look at me.” Natasha keeps her eyes shut tight in pleasure. “Please. Open your eyes.” You want to see them. You want her to remember this, to remember you, your eyes staring into hers with love.

“I’m-” Natasha moans as her eyes flutter open, but whatever she was about to say is forgotten when her green - almost black, clouded with pleasure - eyes meet yours. Your fingers slow down a little as you look at her and she looks at you, her hand digging into your hair, pulling you closer to her. It’s unspoken.

“You wanna cum for me, baby?” You whisper against her chapped lips as you speed up your fingers, curling them with each thrust. She mewls at your words, nodding her head slightly, wrapping her legs around you to pull your fingers into her  even deeper. “You feel so good, so tight. Soaked for me. Only me.” Natasha moans into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked together, lips brushing against each other as you thrust harder, faster, Super-fast like nothing she’s ever experienced before.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m-Fuck, don’t stop.” Her filthy sounds, her distinctive mix of lavender and sweat, her warm body against yours, Natasha hypnotises you as her pussy clamps around your fingers. You manage to slip another inside letting the stretch push her over the edge, unexpectedly pressing against her clit with your thumb too. You watch her eyes roll to the back of her head for a moment at the overwhelming pleasure, the veins in her neck straining before she brings her head forward, wanting to look at you. The way you’re looking at her only adds to the intensity of her orgasm with your brows furrowed together and lips hung open, like you’re in pleasure just from making her cum. The pulsing doesn’t stop as you slow your pace down, and you’re not sure when it switched from her pussy pulsing to your heart. You can practically hear your own heart beating in your fucking ears.

You don’t know how long you and Natasha stayed like that, your fingers still buried deep inside her, her eyes locked to yours, foreheads leaning against each other catching your breaths - breathing into each other. It’s not until she lets out a sigh and slowly unwraps her legs from around your waist that you finally slide your fingers out. You drag them up her body until you reach her plump lips. Natasha keeps her eyes on yours as she sucks your fingers into her mouth and fuck . Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re never getting that image out of your head. You don’t want to.

[A/N - SMUT OVER]

“Fuck me.” You mumble in astonishment, in adoration, and you’re running out of words to describe how you feel, to describe how fucking in love with her you are.

“Let me catch my breath first.” Natasha teases with a laugh and you roll off her without really wanting to, but you don’t want to crush her.

“Pinch me so I know this is real.” You wait a moment and turn to see Natasha’s fingers still pinching your skin. “I-I can’t feel it. Natasha, I can’t feel it.” You start panicking already thinking you might have just dreamed all this up. It’s Natasha. You just slept with Natasha, the woman you’ve been pining over since you joined the Avengers. It’s too good to be true.

“Y/N. You’re a Super-Soldier.” Natasha says in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard and you snort at yourself for being so stupid.

“Oh. Right.” Natasha hums, moving over to rest her head on your chest. “I wish I wasn’t.” You whisper quietly, almost like it’s scary to admit you’d take away all this power you have just for her. You don’t want to reveal it yet - hell, does that even matter when the way you touched her and looked at her was more than enough to show your feelings?

“Why?” She asks curiously, lips brushing over your skin when she looks up and rests her chin on your chest.

“So I can feel your nails piercing my skin, scratching my back. So your lips could mark my skin. So you could claim me.” You confess, gulping at the look she gives you. Shit.

“Y/N…” Her tone’s a little sympathetic, a little sad, a little something and you don’t like it.

“I-What was this? What is this?” You clear your throat when it cracks. You didn’t want to talk about this but what choice do you even have? You’ve already revealed too much, so you might as well take the risk, right?

“Can we please not talk about that right now?” She sighs and kisses your skin, causing your breath to hitch. You can already feel something bubbling up in your chest and it hurts, it hurts already knowing she’ll wake up tomorrow wanting nothing more from you.

“Nat, I’ve-” You begin, wanting to tell her how badly you’ve wanted her, how long you’ve been needing her. You saw her vulnerability when she looked into your eyes, when she came for you. You saw it, you’re not being delusional right now, you know she has to feel something for you.

“Y/N, please.” She interrupts, a pleading expression this time, kissing across your collarbone and there’s nothing to do but pant at how soft her lips feel.

“Okay. It’s okay. We don’t have to talk at all.” You grin at her when she reaches your lips, kissing you and slipping her tongue into your mouth. You don’t have to talk, you just want her. All you want is Natasha, even if it’s for one night. You already know your Natasha withdrawal symptoms tomorrow are going to rip you apart and shatter your heart.

Chapter Text

When you finally wake up the next morning, you don’t think you’re awake because your night with Natasha is replaying in your mind. You think it’s a dream at first, like a regular Tuesday dreaming of Natasha’s hands on you, your lips on hers, your hands sliding over her soft body. It’s got to be a dream, right?

It isn’t. Your eyes snap open, squinting at the brightness but pushing through it to glance around the room frantically. The bed’s empty, but her side is still messy and ruffled. Her panties are hanging over the lampshade on the bedside table. Oh, fuck. You slept with Natasha last night. Those are memories, not dreams. You can’t hear the shower on, but you do hear a crackling sound as the smell of eggs invades your senses. Without a second thought, you jump out of the bed quickly throwing on shorts and a tank top that’s a little too tight on you. Rushing down the steps, you find Natasha in the kitchen already dressed for work, looking a little frantic as she leaves the eggs on the stove to rush to the toaster.

“You really thought this was a good idea after the last time?” She’s startled by both your voice and the toaster releasing the bread. Without another word you walk over to her, taking the reins with a smirk.

“I was trying to be nice.” Natasha counters, resorting to pouring the both of you mugs of steaming hot coffee. She adds almond milk to hers and leaves yours black with one sugar, knowing how you like it.

“It’s the thought that counts, baby.” You tease with a wink as you turn off the stove. Natasha carefully places the avocado she mashed up earlier on both pieces of bread, letting you place the sunny-side up eggs on top. You didn’t really like avocados until Natasha told you that ‘you have to season them properly’. You let her do the work for you, but you’ve surprisingly grown to like them.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while. You slurp your coffee loudly every minute, knowing the sound annoys Nat; she slaps your bicep lightly each time as a warning but the punishment doesn’t come and you know it never will by the hint of a blush on her cheeks and the smile on her lips. After eating half her food, she puts her plate on top of your clean one, letting you finish it off. You gladly eat as much as you can with a smile of thanks.

“I-Uh, I can’t stay long. Work.” She clears her throat after cleaning her mug, now feeling a little tense that she has to leave. She obviously wants to talk, and you have a feeling you won’t like the end result of that conversation. Natasha obviously knows you won’t, otherwise why would she try and butter you up with breakfast?

“That’s fine. I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Of course. Hey, look, can we talk later?” Natasha speaks up after putting her blazer on and grabbing her purse.

“Aren’t we talking now?” You say playfully, just finishing up with washing your dishes. You turn to face her with a grin and she rolls her eyes at you, trying to hide the nervous look on her face.

“You know what I mean.” You sigh out after her response, not wanting to face reality yet. You wish you could live in this bubble, this limbo between last night and this morning. Talking means something’s wrong. It almost always means that. And after last night, after you tried to ask her what exactly this is, you’re sure this talk won’t be a good one.

“I know. Sorry. We can. Can I just ask you one thing?” Natasha turns but stops when you ask her that, hearing your voice closer to her as you step towards the door.

“Sure.” She says after clearing her throat. Natasha spins around and looks up at you, scanning your features as you scratch the back of your neck and chew on the inside of your cheek. She knows it’s a nervous habit of yours.

“Did-Did it...mean anything? To you?” You ask her cautiously, struggling to get the words out as you fear the worst. Natasha sighs and you close your eyes, hanging your head down, waiting for her to just say it and leave for work. There’s ice cream in the freezer for you to demolish as you cry and watch some Netf-Oh. Natasha’s scent invades your space first and you open your eyes just in time to see her eyes staring at your lips before pressing hers against them. You immediately lean into her, pushing her against the door as she kisses you gently, but deep enough to show you there’s a promise in there for more.

“Hope that answers it.” She whispers when she pulls away, nose to nose. You can’t help the smile on your face as she pecks your cheek quickly with a light blush on her cheeks, turning around and quickly leaving for work. After having a long cold shower and getting ready in silence, mouth hung open in shock and awe the entire time, you make your way to the shop with a wide smile on your face. It’s going to be a good day.

-----

“Arya is one of my favourite characters, and I find out that she can’t even shoot an arrow? And Theon and Jon don’t even like each other?” Just a minute after you open the shop, the teenage girl who you sold Game of Thrones to walks in, red in the face both out of anger and excitement.

“Good morn-” She interrupts you, paying no mind to your words as the door closes behind her. She carries on her rant as she disappears, marching down the aisle where the fantasy section is.

“And everyone’s older in the show, and I’m guessing that has to do with sexualising their characters in the series?” Oh, that’s a deep and political conversation you didn’t think she’d even know about let alone be interested in. “Like everyone simps over Jon and Robb and that’s apparently okay because they’re 17, but they’re 15 in the books? And don’t even get me started on Dany. She’s 13?! And why the fuck did they change the scene with Drogo?” 

“Language.” You call out while reading over papers of the sales you’ve made for the last few weeks. Seems like the most popular category is actually fantasy and supernatural. Lots of vampire books, werewolves, anything supernatural seems to be selling at a rapid pace.

“He was so sweet to her during their first time in the book! And why the hell did they not stick with purple eyes for the Targaryens? It would have been so pretty!” She carries on with her venting when she comes into view, a whole stack of books piled up in her arms blocking her face. She drops them on the till as you chuckle at her. “I wanna buy the whole series.” She demands, pulling out a credit card.

“Is this yours?” You raise a brow at her, lifting the card up to read it.

“Duh.” She says a little impatiently, glancing out the window and back to you, crossing her arms over her chest. You don’t even need to read the name on the card to know that she’s lying. Your eyes zoom into the sweat droplet sliding down the side of her head.

“Nice to meet you, Brian.” You say playfully and she groans out in response at getting caught. Her nail polish from the other day is all chipped now, you notice.

“Ugh.” She reluctantly grabs all the books in her arms, waddling away like a penguin trying to carry all that weight again. You laugh at her movements, shaking your head and filing your papers away.

“Nice try, kiddo. Does your dad know you stole his card?” You ask her, hearing her respond in a loud voice from the aisle.

“No. That’s the whole point of stealing. Aren’t you meant to be smart?” She lashes out, a little annoyed at you for catching her. You narrow your eyes at her with a playful grin.

“Aren’t you meant to be in school?” You counter and she crosses her arms over her chest once again, a not-so-subtle defensive stance.

“I have chemistry first, who cares if I skip it? Didn’t you say literature is good for my soul or some shit?” She complains, and you have to stop yourself from scolding her again for her language. You drop the credit card on the till and push it towards her with a raised brow.

“Go to school, kid. And go get a job, or ask for money next time.”

“You’re no fun. Can I just borrow one at least? I’ll bring the money later.” She rolls her eyes at you before taking the card and shoving it into her pocket. You don’t get how she’s wearing a leather jacket in this heat but it’s a form of expression through fashion or some shit you read about in an article. Back in your day all you knew, all that was accepted, was conformity.

“Do you know how a transaction works?” She rolls her eyes at your tone, groaning and pouting this time. It’s clearly what she thinks her signature move is. It may work with her parents but it won’t work with you.

“Please? Come on, do you really think I’d steal-” You raise a brow, pointing to her pocket to remind her of her dad’s stolen card.

“You were saying?”

“Ugh. You suck.” You laugh at her insult, leaving the till to sort out some books in the newly shipped box. You pull out a couple and go towards the back aisle, replacing the ‘Vampire Diaries’ set you sold a couple days ago.

“Have a nice day, kid.” You give her a small grin as you walk by her.

“Stop calling me that, I’m not a kid. I have a name. It’s Mia.” She tells you, arms by her side as she leans against the wall, watching you work curiously. You turn towards her with your arms crossed over your chest, narrowing your eyes to imitate her.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mia. I’m Reagan.” She turns her head away from you, digging her hands into her pockets and staring at her boots. You feel a little bad, knowing she was really enjoying the book. Oh, whatever, why can’t you help her out a little? The children are the future, right? “Now that I know your name, and your father’s, I can track you down if you don’t come back with that money.” Pulling out the second book in the set, you flip through it, wiping the front cover with the cloth hanging over your shoulder. It’s surprising how quickly dust settles over the books in this shop.

“Wait...really?” Mia’s whole face lights up, no longer slouching against the wall. You can’t help chuckling a little, holding the book out in your hand towards her.

“Go ahead.” You encourage her and before you can even say ‘you’re welcome’ she’s charging towards you, hugging you tightly.

“Oh my God, you’re so cool! Thank you so much!” She yells excitedly as you huff out, not really knowing how to react to the hug. You decide to laugh and teasingly pat her head and luckily she’s too happy to lash out at you for that.

“Yeah, yeah, go back to school.” You say playfully when she pulls away and takes the book, inspecting it with wide eyes, already opening it to look inside.

“I will, I swear! Bye!” Mia runs out without another look towards you, eyes stuck on the book. She’s a good kid, despite the whole missing school thing, and the attitude, and the ‘expressionism’. It’s all a combination of defence mechanisms from what you can gather, a way of shielding herself, looking ‘tough’ when she’s really a sweet marshmallow on the inside. She reminds you of Nat a little, although she dresses like Wanda did. Wanda was always sweet though. You rarely saw Natasha’s sweet side before this mission, before getting to know her really. You suppose there was no reason for her to show that side to you. Your friendship with her has always been just that; friendly, a little playful, a little flirty. Never serious. Until now.

No, scratch that. Even now, it didn’t feel serious. Not the bad type of serious, or the crying and overwhelming type of serious. It’s...It just flows. She’s still Nat and you’re still Y/N, and nothing really changed in that dynamic. You just...had sex. And she still made you breakfast and coffee, she still teased you. There just happened to be an addition this particular morning: a kiss. Reassurance, hope, a promise of more. It feels like everything has been building up to this and there was no shock, no surprising revelation, not like how it was with Wanda.

With Wanda, you had no clue you even felt the way you did until she almost kissed you. You’ve always been intimate with her from the very start; there was barely a build up as you two were practically attached by the hip the moment you met. You just clicked like you’ve known each other your entire lives, drawn to each other, finally finding each other like you’ve been searching and searching for centuries, for lifetimes. Soulmates. But you’re a firm believer that ‘the one’ doesn’t just apply to the love of your life. You’ve found a family in that compound, in this group of selfless heroes risking their lives everyday. Every friendship is different in its own way, but none more important than the other. Wanda couldn’t replace your dynamic with Clint or Tony or Steve, and vice versa. They’re all your soulmates.

If that’s the case, why can’t you get Wanda’s cinnamon scent out of your head? Her lips open as she leans in closer to you, her hot breath against your lips, her hands kneading your skin and running up and down your spine. You can’t help wondering if you’re perhaps confusing different types of intimacy, blurring the line between platonic and romantic.

You still check your phone for messages from her and it reaches 3PM without a single notification from Wanda. Your mind drifts to the look on her face when she saw Vision come into her room, when she was talking about him taking her around the city. What if those selfies she took, the photos of her around the city she’s been sending are all with him? Did he take them? Is he the one causing that wide smile, the glint in her eyes?

You have no right to be jealous and you know that. You just slept with Natasha, the woman Wanda knows you’re in love with, the woman you promised you’d try and get over. Instead you got under her and you know there is no way you can let Wanda roam your mind freely after this trip. It would break her. Or...would it actually? Or would she be too occupied with Vision? Whatever. Your glasses light up with a notification, a reminder of your monthly check up with Maria for the mission. Shit, you completely forgot about that. Rushing to close shop early, you speed home to collect some files and text Nat before making your way to the outskirts of the city.

-----

The drive thankfully is only an hour long, right where you parked the Quinjet and swapped to the van when you first came here a month ago. It doesn’t feel like it’s been a month; it’s going too fast, your time with Natasha is already nearing its end and you’re dreading that moment where you have to come back to the compound. Everything’s changed and you’re not that great with drastic changes, especially after you’ve already adjusted and grown used to something. Your dynamic with Wanda has already changed all overnight, and you only feel her distancing herself more now that she has Vision. For all you know, Natasha will run into Bruce’s arms the moment you return. And you’ll be left alone.

“Where the hell are you, Maria?” You mumble and sigh out, slamming the car door shut and leaning against it. Pulling your phone out to text her, you suddenly get pushed back against the car by the harsh wind. Looking up, you don’t see anything but you know that’s because the jet’s likely cloaked.

“Get in.” The door opens, revealing Maria and the interior of the jet. The outside remains cloaked as you walk in, the door shutting behind you. “You broke into the target’s workplace?” She immediately bursts into accusations with anger and you shouldn’t have expected any less from her.

“Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you, how’ve you been?” You say in a mocking tone and she has no time for your antics as she narrows her eyes at you, notepad in her hand to jot down some points. “Seth’s running operations, not Rebecca.” You get straight to the point, taking a seat with your hands behind your head, stretching out your arms.

“How can you be sure?” Maria asks, looking up at you from the notepad. She leans against the opposite wall to you, cautiously watching you.

“She was ranting about how shit of a husband he is and mentioned he buys her jewels every now and then and steals them back. She has no idea what’s going on, no idea that he’s using her.” You explain, tapping your feet on the floor impatiently. You didn’t even want to come to this meeting. You would have asked Natasha but she works later than you do, so you couldn’t make her miss work. “Here’s all our notes.” You throw the binder to her and she catches it with a glare at your lack of professionalism.

“This is a meeting, Agent Y/LN.” Maria scolds you and you’ve just about had enough of it. With a grunt you slam your hand against the metal seat next to you, standing up and stepping closer to her.

“Maria, please, just stop with this shit! I get it, okay? I’m a fucking asshole, I treated you like shit, I-I never gave you a chance.” Starting off angry, you slowly calm down after those words come out. The guarded look on her face softens and you can tell it’s genuine this time. “Maybe things would be different now if I did.” She’s stunned by your sudden burst, by your confession. You’re not one to talk about this subject, about feelings or anything remotely close to that. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.” She was the first thing that changed, the first dynamic that shifted for you. You were happy with your arrangement, you had fun, you both cared for each other. Yes, she cared more than you did, but it doesn’t erase the friendship and partnership you two built. It was years in the making just for shit to go south because of your carelessness.

“You love her.” She lets out in a whisper after clearing her throat a little. She crosses her arms over her chest after your response.

“I do.” Maria shuffles before looking down at her feet.

“If-If I told you how I felt before you joined the team, would you...do you think you would have felt the same?” She stutters out, a little scared of your response and you feel like pure shit for this. You’re not even sure why you brought this up in the first place. It just felt like you had to. You at least owe her some answers.

“I can’t know for sure. Maybe. Maybe not.” Her face falls at that, expression filled with guilt. Regret. She wishes she said something earlier, wishes she can go back. “Look, our thing didn’t end because of you. It was me, and my feelings for her. My obsession with her. I’ve probably fucked up everything to be with her. You, Wanda...Look, what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry for dragging you along and using you. You deserved better than that, better than me and the way I treated you. And I hope you can forgive me one day because these petty insults and professionalism bullshit is really starting to get on my nerves.” She laughs a little as you teasingly end your apology with a smirk. It’s a little watery giggle as she wipes her eyes quickly, and it’s then that you realise just how much you miss her. It wasn’t all sex, it was friendship. You lost it all when you dragged her along despite having feelings for someone else.

“God, you’re annoying. I’m sorry too, I guess.” She rolls her eyes playfully at you, crossing her arms over her chest again.

“Damn, I opened my heart and that’s the apology I get?” 

“Thin ice.” Maria narrows her eyes at you and the two of you chuckle together before you step back and sit back down.

“So, we good?” You ask a little cautiously as she steps forward.

“Yes, Y/N. We’re good. Now, tell me what happened last night.” Maria asks as she takes a seat next to you, opening the binder to look through some of your files and notes. Well, a lot happened last night but you’ll miss out the details.

“Long story short, Natasha broke in, there were unexpected agents there, I came to help and got her out. We found nothing, only transactions but no proof they were jewels.” Maria turns to look at you with a raised brow at the mentioning of agents.

“Agents? This is a bigger operation than we thought.” She notes down, and you gulp before making your next confession. You know she’ll make a bigger deal out of it than it is but you hope you can keep control of the situation.

“Uh, it’s about to get even bigger. They were HYDRA agents.” You reveal, wincing at Maria’s loud voice in your ear.

“HYDRA? Are you positive?” She demands, and you guide her to the binder in her hands.

“Page 18.” Quickly flipping through it to reach the page, she sees the photos you took of the agents all passed out on the stairwells, zoomed photographs of the logo on their jackets.

“Y/N, I think it’s best to call Rogers in and let him take over.” Maria says while inspecting the photos in a careful tone, knowing you’re not going to react well to her suggestion.

“What? Why? I can handle it.” You immediately burst into protest and Maria’s hand on your knee stops you from standing up.

“This is a sensitive issue, a personal one if HYDRA is involved. Given your history, I think it’s best to take a step back and-” She tries to explain to you but you don’t want this to end yet, it can’t end yet, not when you’re just getting started. You already came this far, it’s only fair for you to finish the mission.

“Maria, please. Just give us more time. It’s only been a month, please, you know I’m more than capable of doing this. I need to complete this mission.” You plead, and perhaps that more time you’re requesting is for more than the mission. It’s one and the same, and you know that. This mission ends and you’re...whatever it is with Natasha ends too. It’s too big of a change. Now you’re in a completely different environment, free from your friends’ prying and judgemental eyes. The second you’d step into the compound, everything changes. And you don’t think Natasha can handle that change, you don’t think Natasha can handle this being real. Or maybe you just think it’s too good to be true.

“Any sign, and I mean any sign of trouble, you call me, okay? Don’t let me down, I’m trusting that you can handle this.” Maria finally gives in after sighing and clenching her jaw in frustration. She knows she can trust you because she can see how badly you want to succeed. That’s enough to motivate you and push aside whatever personal feelings you may have.

“Still got a soft spot for me, huh?” You tease and immediately drop the smirk when she glares at you. Too soon.

“Y/N.” You put your hands up innocently at her tone.

“Kidding, I’m kidding. Thank you.” You tell her with a smile and she turns away. “No, really, thank you, Maria.” She gives you a final nod before standing up and opening the door. She hands the binder back to you after telling you to stop being old and digitise it so you can email it to her instead.

“Take care of yourself.” She yells out as you step out of the jet, giving you a soft smile.

“I will.” You’ll try.

-----

Checking your phone when you reached halfway back home, you see Natasha’s text asking you to pick up a takeaway for dinner on your way back. She gave you the pick so you stopped for burgers and fries - plus a strawberry milkshake for Nat and chocolate for you. The two hour drive there and back gave you enough time to think, enough time to really decide what you want to do about this whole situation. You’re not confused, you know who you want. Right? Fuck. Maybe it’s not enough time. Well, it’s too late anyway; you’ve already parked the car in your driveway.

You know what you want now, you don’t know what you’ll want when you and Natasha return to your real home with your real friends and your Wanda. She’s your Red, she always has been, but if you’re cuddled up to her, then what happens to Nat? If you’re cuddled up to Nat, then what happens to Wanda? Whose bed will you share, whose body will your arms be around every morning, who gets to have a part of you that the other doesn’t? Maybe Nat was right about Wanda’s dependency on you, but she forgot about your dependency on her.

“I got you a milkshake.” You announce the second you step through the door, back turned to lock the door behind you. “Freezer or are you drinking it n-Oh.” Turning around, you almost drop the whole bag of food when your eyes land on Natasha’s figure coming down the steps. Her almost-naked figure dressed in black lacy lingerie so thin it leaves almost nothing to imagination.

[A/N - SMUT WARNING]

“Welcome home, honey.” She whispers seductively and you can’t help gulping in response, your core already pulsing with need. You’re aware of the freezing milkshakes in the bag like the cold is creeping up your body, but you damn well know Natasha’s forest eyes turning a darker shade by the second is what’s causing the goosebumps along your skin. Her eyes scan you, freely roaming your body and the outfit you’ve chosen today. The tight polo shirt against your breasts, your biceps stretching the short sleeve of the material, the black jeans sculpting your hips; you can see the effect you have on her as she slowly makes her way to you.

“Th-The food-” Your whisper turns into a whimper as her fingers rests against your lips, hypnotic eyes looking up into yours with only one goal on her mind.

“Shhh.” Her tone lulls you, making you weak in the knees as her plump lips form a subtle pout. “I’m hungry for something else.” She murmurs before her lips attack yours with desperate need. Both of you moan into the kiss, hands tugging on hair, fingers pressing and slithering over tight muscles and soft skin. The bag of food stays long forgotten already placed on the ground as your arms wrap around her waist to lift her up. Natasha presses herself tight against you, already rolling her hips against your clothed abs as you turn and push her up against the door. It’s rough and she loves it, moaning and groaning into your mouth, fingers digging into your shoulders. Sliding your tongue into her mouth comes with no resistance; Natasha surrenders before there’s even a battle.

You’ve decided. Kissing Natasha is your absolute favourite thing to do, and from now on will be your only goal in life. You want your lips on hers any time they possibly can. Her little whimpers and moans into your mouth, her tongue sliding against yours with ease, her soft fingers scratching along your back and shoulders. It’s all intoxicating and there’s nothing that makes you feel more alive than Natasha.

The redhead spreads her legs wider, wrapping them around your waist securely as your hands trail down the soft skin of her stomach, her curves, her outer thighs. She only breaks your lip lock because she can’t contain her moans anymore after your hand sneaks down between her legs.

“No teasing, just fuck me.” Natasha pants out, hot breath and red in the face.

“Yes, ma’am.” You reply teasingly with a smirk, ripping her panties off with ease. That’s the second time you’ve torn her clothes off and it doesn’t seem to anger her at all; soft whines escape out of her pink lips at your desperation for her. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” You groan out when you finally let your fingers slide through her folds. She rocks against you as you brush over her clit, leaving gentle kisses on her pale neck that’s still bruised from your marks last night. Your marks.

“Oh, God. ” Natasha cries out when you slide two fingers into her with little-to-no warning, overcome with this strong need to own her. You want to make her yours, you want to leave your mark on her not just physically but mentally. You want to fuck her until your lips are all she feels ghosting over her body when you’re not around.

“I’m going to ruin anyone else for you.” You promise her with a grunt, sinking your teeth into her skin finding a spot you haven’t left your mark on yet. Natasha doesn’t say anything in response, only whimpers, but you can feel her pussy tighten, throbbing around your fingers at your words. “Nothing will ever be enough, only me. No one, not even you will be able to get you off.” You growl into her ear, your hand tightening as you knead the curve of her hip. Thrusting your fingers harder, faster, you close your eyes as you rest your face in Natasha’s neck, letting her take over your senses.

“ Please. ” She pants out, the ache in her pussy only growing as you push her closer to the edge. Lifting your thumb up, you give her a little relief as you rub tight circles over her throbbing clit. She begs for you with her desperate whines becoming increasingly higher in pitch, her moans growing louder in volume, her pussy tightening and pulsing around your fingers. Her body gives everything away.

“Wanna make you mine.” You mumble and you’re not sure if she hears it or not with your face buried in her neck, teeth sinking into her skin and she doesn’t care if you pierce it. You thrust your fingers faster, her pussy sounding absolutely filthy as you feel her juices spilling down your hand, coating her thighs. Sliding a third finger into her tight pussy, you smirk into her neck as she gasps and moans loudly. You really didn’t expect Natasha to be so vocal but you’re definitely not disappointed; her sounds of pleasure will forever be engraved in your memories.

“Fuck, can I-” She cuts herself off before finishing, realising what she was about to ask. Natasha was about to ask you for permission to cum. Holy shit. You can’t help groaning at that, having no restraint anymore. Kissing her plump lips, you replace her teeth biting on her bottom lip with your own, soothing the bite with your tongue.

“You wanna cum for me? Hmm, baby?” You mumble against her lips, swallowing her moans. Natasha nods as she whines, trying to grind down against your hand. She’s already addicted and you know what she wants. Using your Super-speed, you thrust your fingers into her harder and faster, the palm of your hand slapping against her sensitive clit. The sounds she lets out can only be described as primal, so desperate and needy as you push her closer to the edge. She clutches your arm as you push her against the door harder, body completely flush against hers to free your other hand.

“P-Please.” Natasha pants out as your hand tightens around her throat, trying to keep her eyes locked to yours. She turns red in the face and you’re not sure if it’s because of the lack of air or her being embarrassed at how turned on she is by your dominance. It only takes a couple more seconds for Natasha to whimper loudly, clit sensitive with each thrust.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” You demand, growling into her ear as you thrust even harder, curling your fingers to hit every spot inside her that drives her crazy. Natasha struggles to keep her eyes on yours as she falls over the edge, face turning red, neck straining, veins popping as her whole body tightens. You can feel her pussy gripping your fingers, refusing to let you move away from her. “That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl.” You whisper soothingly, kissing her neck as her body twitches against you, hips grinding against your hand and it’s like Natasha doesn’t know what she wants anymore. Your palm against her sensitive clit has her whimpering, pushing away, but she doesn't want you to stop. She lets out a whine, complaining when your fingers slide out of her. She feels so empty; she needs you.

“No, don’t stop.” She pants out, struggling to catch her breath. You chuckle at her needy eyes, wrapping your arms around her body as you walk over to sit her down on the kitchen island. You don’t have the patience to go up to your bedroom, you need your tongue on her now and the fact that she needs this just as bad as you do only adds to your desperation for her.

“I won’t. I can’t. ” You tell her with nothing but desire, adoration, love in your voice. Your eyes stay locked to hers as you push her back gently to lie her down, spreading her legs apart and immediately moaning at the sight. Already red from your palm slapping against it, her pussy’s literally dripping for you, begging you to slide your tongue inside. “Such a pretty pussy.” You smirk up at her as she bites her lips, cowering a little and blushing at that. “You like that, baby? Like it when I call you pretty?” Nat groans at your words, seemingly shy with her submissive side, maybe even a little embarrassed. God, she’s adorable even like this.

“Y/N, please, don’t tease.” Nat begs, rolling her lips a little as you lean down, lips ghosting over her thighs. You smirk up at her before sliding your tongue over her inner thigh, groaning at the taste of her juices. She inhales sharply as you bite her skin, leaving your mark. This one feels entirely personal because no one else is looking at it. It’s for her, for you, a reminder of you every time she gets dressed, takes a shower, touches herself. She’ll think of you, of the intimacy you shared. Natasha spreads her legs further, inviting you in, losing her patience by the minute. At this point you’re also teasing yourself by depriving yourself, so you give in with a quick, teasing lick from her pulsing entrance to her clit. Her hips jerk up at the sudden touch, hands scrunching into tight fists realising there’s no sheets for her to hold on the cold island.

“Sensitive, baby?” You ask with a grin, avoiding her clit this time, lapping at her entrance teasingly dipping your tongue in. Nat’s just about had enough for teasing and it seems that she wants something else from you. She sits up to pull you in, attaching her lips to yours. Moaning into your mouth as she tastes herself on your tongue, Nat tugs at your top until you break your lips apart to quickly take it off and throw it to the side. She works your bra off with ease as you unclasp hers, lips moving together with intense desire. She shoves your jeans down, letting you take it off when she can no longer reach down.

“Up.” Nat demands and you can’t help but obey, sliding your undergarments off too before climbing up on top of her. Natasha sighs against your neck at the warmth you provide on top of her, gasping at the sensation of your nipples brushing over hers. “Want to feel you.” Nat pants into your ear making your eyes roll to the back of your head at how fucking raspy her voice sounds, completely clouded by her desire for you. You press your thigh against her centre, tightening your muscles to provide something harder for her to grind against. Unexpectedly, Natasha forces her thigh upwards too, looking at you with wide eyes in awe as you let out a soft moan at the feeling, bucking your hips.

“Natasha…” You groan as she flexes her thigh, keeping her gaze on you carefully. She doesn’t want to miss a single thing, memorising the sounds you make as you roll your hips against her thigh, wetness coating her skin making it easier for you to quicken the pace of your hips. Leaning down as Natasha leans up, your lips immediately wrap around a nipple, sucking and flicking your tongue over her hardened bud. Her fingers grip your locks, keeping your head in place as she simultaneously rolls her hips against you and pushes her thigh up to draw out more desperate moans that she wants engraved in her mind.

“I want to feel you, Y/N.” Natasha whispers, slowly pulling you up from your hair, her lips brushing against yours as her eyes flicker across your face. Nose to nose, she adjusts, writhing under you until both of your legs are spread apart, until your pussy is pressed down on her inner thigh. “Please, I need you so bad.” She whimpers against your lips, pulling you up while kneading the skin on your thigh, pulling you up and up until your heat is-Oh. Fuck.

“Shit. Fuck, oh, fuck.” You groan out, attaching your lips to hers with passion as you lower yourself, your lower lips pressing up against hers. You both moan and sigh into each other at the first touch, trembling slightly as you slide against each other. With your heightened senses, you can practically feel her pulsing against you, hear her heart beating faster and faster as her moans grow louder and louder.

“ More. ” Nat moans, nails digging into your back as she pulls you down for a desperate clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. 

“So greedy.” You grunt against her, thrusting harder, your clits brushing over each other.

“For you. Only for you.” She pants, nuzzling her face in your shoulder as you lean down to kiss, suck, bite her neck. Her words only make your heart pulse harder and it’s so overwhelming. Her words, her sounds, scent, taste, fuck, her eyes overwhelm you shattering your core, your entire perception of being. You don’t see anything but her, hear, feel, taste anything but Natasha; she’s integrated into your soul, no longer drifting through your mind but owning it.

“Please.” You whimper and you’re not even sure what you’re asking of her. Please don’t break my heart, please don’t let go, please love me like I love you. She holds you tight, arms around your shoulders as you both move against each other. You don’t need to move fast or hard, you don’t need to be frantic and animalistic; feeling each other is enough. It’s enough for your throbbing clits to brush over each other, your wetness coating her, her juices coating you, your nipples hard against each other, your soft whispers and whines of pleasure contrasting her loud and desperate moans. It’s enough for the whole world to freeze as the moonlight casts through the kitchen windows against your naked, writhing bodies, both of you succumbing to your intense desires plunging head first into limbo. All you see is a galaxy swirling in her eyes as she pants into your mouth, an endless realm of possibilities, of hope.

“I got you.” She whispers and you let yourself fall into her, letting out desperate cries that sound like sobs as your hips move without your brain needing to interfere, prolonging your orgasm. You’re not falling over the edge, you’re fucking flying over the forest of bright green trees, staring into her eyes that say so much without uttering the word you want to hear. You don’t know how long you’ve been laying on top of her, listening to her heart beating against the bars in her chest. It’s not until Natasha’s hands still from brushing through your damp locks, trailing up and down your back that you realise she’s speaking.

[A/N - SMUT OVER]

“Huh?” You mumble, groaning as you move your head away from her pillowy chest. She giggles at your antics, biting her bottom lip subtly.

“The milkshakes.” She says with a raised brow.

“The damn milkshakes.” You groan out, forgetting them on the floor. They’ve probably turned into hot shakes, stuck in this heated room. “Freezer?”

“Freezer.” Nat agrees with a nod, almost whining as you begrudgingly slide off her body. She watches your figure as you walk to the front door, the muscles in your back, your tone behind. You notice her biting her lips, no longer shy in her obvious staring as her eyes roam over your naked body.

“Like what you see?” You tease, bending down to put your milkshakes in the freezer. Natasha groans at the sight, sitting up and holding her hands out for you. You turn back around to her, resting your hands on her curves as she wraps hers around your neck.

“If I’m Aphrodite then what are you?” She whispers, something different in her eyes. Your brows furrow a little at that but her nose brushing against yours relaxes you immediately.

“A poet trying to depict your beauty with words. A sculptor failing to capture the essence of your soul. A devout worshipper...a true believer, in awe that a being like you exists.” The intensity in your words, in your eyes as you look down at her has her cowering away a little. You can’t help frowning at that, leaning down to kiss her cheek, her jawline, her neck.

“Y/N, you know I’m not-” She whispers but you cut her off immediately, not wanting to hear any of that.

“You are.” You insist, brushing your lips against hers.

“I’ve done things, horrible things.” Nat’s voice quivers slightly at that and you tighten your arms around her comfortingly, smiling when she sighs into your chest.

“Aphrodite turned Paeonia into a flower out of spite. She’s still the goddess of love, beauty…” You trail on, hands running up and down her spine.

“I thought you said jealousy corrupts humanity.” She says accusingly in a teasing tone.

“You were listening?” Of course she was listening. Even drunk, Natasha’s ears are trained.

“I might have been drunk but I was still somewhat aware.” You laugh a little, pecking her lips because you can. She smiles and leans forward to deepen it a little before dropping back with a sigh.

“Jealousy isn’t always bad. Can be hot sometimes.” Nat smirks at your words, raising a brow.

“Oh, really?” She whispers teasingly.

“Totally.” You whisper back with a grin, forehead pressed against hers. You’re completely enamoured by her.

“Speaking of jealousy, I think we need to talk.” The smirk drops a little as she lets out a serious sigh and you chuckle to try and lighten the mood.

“Oh no. The talk. ” It only works a little as she rolls her eyes at you, but she still pushes your chest a little so she can drop down and gather your clothes off the floor. You stand back, eyes roaming her body and you still can’t believe this is real.

“Shush. Can we shower first?”

“We?” Nat bites her bottom lip with a giggle, turning around and swaying her hips.

“Come on.” You follow her with no hesitation.

-----

It’s already 1 in the morning by the time you and Natasha had finished with your shower; it turned into shower sex and you’re still wanting more, eyes glancing to her lips as she has the last bite of her burger.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nat yells out accusingly, pointing at you in shock. You pause, fries halfway in your milkshake already.

“What?” You say innocently in a quiet voice, confused as to why she’s screaming at you.

“Fries? In a milkshake? Seriously? But you complain about almond milk?” Nat’s eyes widen when you pull the fries out and shove them into your mouth with a moan. She exaggerates her disgust with gagging sounds.

“This is normal. Everyone does it.” She scoffs at that, stirring her milkshake with the metal straw she uses for everything.

“Maybe back in your day, weirdo.” She teases you about your age but it doesn’t affect you. She’s the one who just slept with someone who’s over a century; if anything she screams desperation. Not that you’re complaining.

“Try it.” She shakes her head stubbornly, laughing at the suggestion, but you look at her with soft eyes, reaching over with a couple fries in your hand. “Come on, baby.” You husk out with a smirk when she blushes at your term of endearment. God, you love being the one that makes her turn red. Watching her head drop down as red tints her chest and cheeks has your insides turning and a permanent smile on your face.

“Fine.” She finally gives in with a sigh, taking the fries still in your hands. Natasha hesitates as the fries dangle over her milkshake. She curiously watches you as you dunk more into your own chocolate cup of goodness, humming contentedly. With a final sharp breath, she dips her fries in and takes them out, quickly biting so she doesn’t have time to change her mind. Her tightly closed eyes flutter open as she chews, surprised that it’s not actually bad. “Oh.”

“See?” You grin cheekily, reaching over to wipe your thumb over the drop of strawberry milkshake at the corner of her lips. She watches your lips as you suck your thumb in, sliding it out clean with a teasing smirk. Clearing her throat, she reaches over and takes more of your fries, dipping them in again.

“It’s actually really good. Wow.” She laughs out in relief.

“Can’t believe you haven’t tried it. Uncultured.” You mumble the last word but she hears you, giving you a playful glare.

“ Hey. Watch it.” You stay silent as you grin, finishing off your food. The two of you sit in comfortable silence until you’re done, Nat throwing the bags and wrappers away. She comes straight to the living room when she’s done, sitting on the couch next to you. “So.”

“So…” You answer, dragging on and letting out a chuckle. You turn to your side, sitting with your legs crossed. Nat copies you, your knees pressing against each other. She plays with her hands in her lap, a nervous habit you’ve noticed. “Hey, this doesn’t have to be awkward. It’s me. And you. And we like each other...or I hope it goes both ways?” You softly smile with a raised brow, a little hopeful. Please don’t break my heart.

“Oh-Yes, of course I like you.” Nat looks up at you, a shocked expression that you’d think she doesn’t feel the same about you. It’s hard not to look too happy about that, a wide smile on your face, but she smiles back just as widely. She likes you, like likes you. The thought of how long lingers in your mind; how much time did you waste pining over her and trying to get over her, automatically assuming she could never feel the same way about you?

“Okay, good, because I thought you just took your role as Natalie Rushman very seriously.” You joke, loving the sound of her laugh. It’s natural, not like you usually hear it sometimes at the compound. She holds back with the others around, has to keep her demeanor, keep the facade. But she trusts you enough to just be herself, trusts that you won’t hurt her, you won’t take advantage of her, you won’t leave.

“So, things with Bruce…” Nat trails on and you freeze for a moment, completely forgetting about her boyfriend. Fuck. Your hands that were placed in hers slowly move back to your own lap. Natasha hates the retreat, so she frowns and intertwines your fingers together again. Your heart pounds faster at the cute act. “It’s complicated. That fight we had the other day, it’s one we’ve had a lot. We-Well, I think we broke up? He left the compound, said he needed a break from all this. And he obviously meant me. And you.” You listen to her with an understanding look until she reveals that Bruce needed to be away from you.

“Me? Why me?” You ask curiously with furrowed brows. Natasha takes a moment, trying to figure out how to say what she wants to say.

“I-I have feelings for you. I’ve had feelings for you for a while.” You have no clue how to even react to this other than leaning in and kissing her desperately. So much fucking time wasted when you could have been the one kissing her, hugging her, making love to her for the last couple of months. “Y/N, I-”

“Natasha, I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid my eyes on you.” You confess in the most certain voice you’re capable of, no quivering, no stuttering, just pure confidence in your feelings for her. You know how you feel, and you’re not holding it back anymore, not when you know she feels the same way. Fuck Bruce, he had his chance and he fucked it over and over again. You’ll never be cruel to her. Never.

“But I thought...you and Wanda?” Natasha looks up at you with squinted eyes, confused about your relationship with Wanda. In all fairness, you did tell her it’s ‘complicated’ on the way to New Orleans. But you’re 90% sure what you want now. That’s a pretty high percentage, right?

“We’re just friends, Nat.” You tell her with a soft smile, a reassuring one, but the frown doesn’t leave her face.

“But she knew. I thought she told you, and when didn’t come to me about it I thought you didn’t feel the same way.” What? No. There’s no way she knew. Natasha must be mistaken, because if Wanda knew then she would have told you. She 100% would have told you, because you’ve cried to her, you’ve let her into your head so she can feel and understand your pain; she wouldn’t let you go through any more of that if she knew you and Natasha could have been together months ago.

“Wanda? Wanda knew? Are you sure?” You ask and Nat only nods her head in response. Your heart drops in your chest and you swear you can feel it in your stomach. It feels heavy, too heavy for you. Your chest tightens by the second at that-that betrayal from your best friend, from the one person you trusted enough to practically live in your head. “No, come on, she would have told me. She-She knows how I feel about you, she knows much it hurt and she would have told me. I know her.” A line etches between your brows, face glistening with sweat as you begin to panic. She wouldn’t. She did. But it’s Wanda. It’s Wanda, it’s Red, it’s-she wouldn’t sit there and let your heart break over and over again if she knew.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry, but she knew. She overheard Bruce and I arguing about it. I broke up with him. And he left. But he came back and I took him back...I shouldn’t have, I knew it was pointless, I knew it would never work out. But he’s all I know, and I thought you didn’t feel the sa-” Natasha’s words only make your heart race faster, your chest and throat tighten until you feel like there’s not enough air in this suddenly small house. You fight back your tears, avoiding her gaze, her words no longer coming out as her mouth keeps moving; all you hear is buzzing, your own heart pounding heavily.

“I-I can’t. I need to breathe. Just give me a minute.” You stutter as you stumble up to your feet. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep your tears at bay but you can’t hold them back anymore. Natasha’s hand on your shoulder stings, your senses overly sensitive as this heavy feeling of betrayal consumes you.

“Hey, look at me, it’s oka-” Ignoring her words, you brush her hand off, heading straight for the front door.

“I need a minute.” With a clenched jaw, you grip the gate outside, eyes shut tight. Wanda’s smile, loving eyes, her gentle hands flash through your mind and you can feel her, see her right here in front of you and all you can do is cry. Dropping to your knees, you let out a heart wrenching sob, voice cracking, the concrete cracking with your hard fist. You barely have time to take a breath in before you’re letting out another sob, hyperventilating at this point. Fuck, this hurts. It hurts more than you’d expect it to, hurts more than seeing Natasha with Bruce for the last couple of months. Your head’s spinning as your cries quiet down, your breathing steadying a little.

“Haus.” Your head pounds when you suddenly hear a quiet but clear voice speak out. “Stern.” No. You know this feeling, you could never forget this feeling. With heavy-lidded eyes, you try to stumble to your feet but you feel a weight pushing you down with the next word. “ Arzt.”

“No!” Your attempt at yelling comes out in a desperate, cracked tone. An overwhelming fear is heavy on your shoulders at what could happen next.

“Wald.” You finally manage to stand up, bulging eyes scanning your surroundings but you can’t see anything, can’t see anyone, only black. “Zweifel.”

“P-Please.” Panting, gasping, begging for air, you cling to the gate, trying to drag yourself back to the house. You shake your head, finally seeing something as your vision clears up. The lights on, Natasha’s figure through the curtains moving around. Natasha. “Hel-Help...please.” Your body stills at the last word, red-rimmed eyes darkening, furrowed brows brushing out into a glare, hands balling into fists so tight you can feel the blood dripping down your skin.

“Reise.” Ready to comply.

Chapter Text

A groan leaves your throat automatically before you’re even aware that you’re conscious. There’s heavy pounding in your head so loud it’s the only thing you can hear. Your whole body shivers at the cold, at the aches up and down your back as you lie on the hard surface on the ground. You don’t need to open your eyes to know there’s a harsh light above you and-No, it can’t be. Not again. You were done with this, last night had to have been a dream, you’re not back there. You left to take a moment to breathe, and you saw Natasha...you saw Natasha and you went back to her.

The sudden buzzing against your thigh startles you, mind immediately associating it with the electric shocks they used to give you. You cry out, panicked as you grab your thigh, opening your eyes wide despite the harsh, hot light from the swinging lightbulb above you. Scrunching up into a ball to protect yourself from the beating that you know is coming, you start hyperventilating, struggling to breathe in the tiny space you’re trapped in. You can feel the ghosts of boots kicking your back, your ribs, stomping on your head and they never get enough; they always want more, always need to take more out of you.

But the pain is just that: ghostly. It takes you a moment to catch your breath as the buzzing persists but the boots slowly disappear. Opening your eyes again slowly, cautiously, you glance around and take in a deep breath of relief when you see the books stacked around you. You’re in the backroom of your shop. You’re safe. And Nat’s here, she’s here, calling your phone over and over again.

“Where the fuck are you? Come home, Y/N, right now. We have a problem.” She yells angrily into the phone, but you can hear that hint of worry in her tone. You disappeared. But...but you’re so sure you went back home to Natasha.

“I-I don’t know what happened, Nat, I-I came back in. I came back into the house, Natasha, right? Right?” You desperately ask, gripping the door handle as you stumble to your feet, head almost crashing into the single lightbulb in the room. You lean back against the door, watching the lightbulb as it swings, trying to steady your breathing.

“Y/N, you’ve been gone all night. You need to come home right now, and come through the back. Don’t let anyone see you.” Natasha reveals, stressing that she needs you home. You have to pull yourself together. Hanging up the phone, you shove it into your pocket and take a deep breath before opening the door, turning the light off before closing it behind you. There’s a couple books on the floor that you quickly jump over, rushing out the shop and locking the door behind you.

You take the next few minutes alone to think, trying to remember exactly what happened last night. What you remember clearly more than anything is the drop in your stomach, the ache in your chest at Natasha revealing that Wanda...Wanda knew about her feelings for you. And she hadn’t said a single word to you about it. If anything, she tried to push you to move on even more, especially by trying to kiss you, by revealing her feelings for you. You contemplate whether or not you should call her and confront her about it, but if you’re honest with yourself you’re not even sure what you would say to her. Last night you were broken, upset by the betrayal, but now? Now you’re just angry. You’re beyond furious with her, so much so that if you’d call her all you’re going to do is yell and yell and yell until your throat is sore.

But that’s all you can remember. The night was black, that’s all you could see. You could feel the cold gate, the railing against your hands, against your head as you rested on it, trying to control your tears. You can feel the hard concrete on your knees as you dropped down, but also stumbled back up, a distant voice echoing in your head. Was-Was it a dream? Or was it real like you thought when you first woke up in the backroom? You don’t know how you’d cope with yourself if it was real, if you had done something, hurt someone, so you push that aside and concentrate on climbing the back gate to your house. You can hear sirens, chatter from the front of the house, assuming they’re here for you, but you shake off your fear.

Landing on the grass without a sound, you crouch and rush forward so no one sees you. The backdoor is locked and you don’t have your keys, so you lightly tap once and Natasha is there in seconds, opening the door and pulling you in with a tight grip on your arm.

“Why’s there police here? What happe-” Before you can even finish your questions, Natasha interrupts you with a slap to your bicep and an angry scowl on her face. You frown at her in response, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Where the hell have you been?” She asks accusingly, crossing her arms over her chest as she glances around, police lights flashing through the windows.

“Nat-” She interrupts you again but you let her, understanding that she was likely worried.

“I thought someone took you. Fuck, I thought something happened to you.” She sighs, her anger disappearing slowly, relieved that you’re back and you’re okay. But you don’t think you are okay. Natasha’s arms wrapping around your waist to hug you close make you feel slightly better, and her warm head pressed against your chest calms the rapid pace of your heart. But you know something happened last night. You just can’t remember it, and you’re scared.

“I think something did happen to me.” You confess in a whisper, voice trembling a little. You don’t know how to react to this situation, how to deal with it, how to solve this sudden problem. You thought you were done. But the trigger words you heard last night were new; you don’t recall them, don’t recall them ever being used before.

“What happened?” Natasha looks up, confused but with a hand on your cheek as she tries to be understanding. You lean into her touch as your eyes flutter close for a moment before snapping open. Your heart pounds at the flashing images in your head: your fist cracking the concrete, your boots stomping on the ground crunching twigs and leaves, red.

“I-I can’t remember. I was-I was outside the house, and then I woke up.” Natasha can see that you’re starting to panic and she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you close. You breathe her familiar scent in, forehead pressed against hers as you slowly calm down. Her nails scratching the back of your neck softly helps relax you and you can’t comprehend what you’ve done to deserve someone like Natasha let alone the real thing.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll figure it out. But we have a problem. Huge problem.” Opening your eyes at her words, yours meet her greens. You sigh against her after snapping out of your gaze, leaning back to give her a little room to breathe.

“What happened?” You cross your arms over your chest, glancing to the door as you hear commotion outside.

“Rebecca’s dead.” Natasha says, stepping back as your eyes widen. You step forward to lean off the wall with a shocked expression on your features, hand running through your hair.

“I-How? What? Who-” You begin asking in disbelief, unsure of how to even react to this new piece of information. First Wanda, then...whatever the fuck happened last night, and now this? You walk over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water but all the water comes out of your mouth anyway at Natasha’s next words.

“They’ve arrested Seth.” Holy shit.

Walking to work feels like a dream, a nightmare , everything so hazy, the sounds around you distorted but so loud. You can’t hear what everyone’s saying despite the ringing in your ears at the sheer volume of everything around you. The typically quick walk feels an hour long as you drag your feet heavily, keeping your eyes locked to your boots. A stomping sound echoes in your head and you’re unsure what it even is; your boots, a fist banging against a metal door, a pipe hitting the ground? It’s difficult to pinpoint with how clouded your memory of last night is.

Everything is in bits and pieces and you can’t put the puzzle together. What exactly happened last night? Why did Seth kill Rebecca? Did he kill her or is he being framed? Did...did you kill her? It’s a possibility, one that you don’t even want to think about, but you know you have to confront it if it is true. The truth of the matter is you don’t know what happened last night, you don’t know what you could have possibly done.

The guilt is already heavy in your chest at the thought that maybe you did kill her; maybe whoever it was that triggered you made you do it. During your first couple weeks working with S.H.I.E.L.D. Maria was the one that helped you the most. She reminded you to go easy on yourself, to remember that you had no choice. You had no choice.

“Hello? Hellooooo?” A voice snaps you out of your daydreaming, slim snapping fingers in front of your face. Your hand automatically moves up to grab whatever is in front of you, sensing danger. You freeze in your tracks, hand halfway up when your eyes land on Mia in front of you. “Woah. Weirdo.” She mumbles, stepping back a little and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. She glances around the shop as you sigh and sit back on the stool behind you.

“Sorry. Lot on my mind.” You force a smile that she sees right through with narrowed eyes.

“I heard. The McNeils. Everyone’s talking about it.” Mia says casually, strolling around the shop with her hand brushing over the books on the large table. She picks one up, turning it over to read the back.

“Oh?” You push on, eager to hear the gossip. You still know absolutely nothing about what happened to her, Nat quickly out the door to go to work avoiding suspicion. She was gone before you could ask anything else.

“Yeah, it was gruesome. Mr McNeil called the police though, said he found her like that, like, right at the front door. They’re saying he crushed her head. Crime of passion or some shit, I think.” She says with wide eyes, clearly finding this somewhat interesting. But when she mentions how he found her, your eyes widen too for a moment, gulping as you look up at her, dropping whatever files are in your hand.

“What? Crushed?” You ask for her to emphasise and she simply nods, dropping the book in her hand and replacing it with another, a black cover design with droplets of maroon dripping down from the top.

“Yeah, like, with something heavy. Couldn’t even identify her from how fucked up her face was.” You can’t help sulking in your stool, slumped shoulders with a frown on your face. Shit. The probability of you killing Rebecca has now skyrocketed. You unbutton the first button of your shirt, taking a deep breath. You can barely catch your breath. Glancing at Mia, you realise you’re acting a little too panicked about this. Clearing your throat, you walk over to her, fixing the crooked books on the table she didn’t properly set back.

“You seem surprisingly...normal about this.” You say with a huff, watching as she shrugs her shoulders, leaning back against the window of the shop.

“I watch American Horror Story.”

“Haven’t heard of it.” You reply, uninterested, too much on your mind to concentrate on what she’s saying. You killed Rebecca. He crushed her head. You killed Rebecca . You’re nicknamed Crusher for that very fucking reason. Someone made you kill Rebecca. But you can’t remember it and it’s killing you because there's still a chance if you can’t remember.

“Have you been living under a rock?” Mia laughs at you for your lack of knowledge of mainstream media. You’re not bothered for arguing in your defence, ignoring the implied age joke despite you not looking a day over 25. Kids are rude as fuck.

“Something like that.” You mumble in response. There’s an awkward silence for a moment as your hands still, gripping the side of the table with your eyes shut tight. It’s hard to push the thoughts away but you can practically hear a scream, possibly Rebecca’s scream, echoing in your head. Mia’s voice breaks you out of your daydreams, or day-mares more like.

“Look...I’m not supposed to tell you this, but my dad’s the detective on the case.” Your eyes widen at the new piece of information. Really? How many more fucking surprises does the universe have planned for you? “Mr McNeil said...he said you did it.” A shitload more, that’s for sure. You shake your head, keeping your groan internal. The only thing you can think of is he must have seen you. Maybe there were cameras. Oh, God, Maria is going to rip your head off.

“I-What? Why on Earth would he think that?” You don’t need to feign shock for your reaction to her, but you do put an amused and confused expression on your face. Mia rolls her eyes with a shrug, pulling out her phone to tap away.

“Something romantic, I didn’t hear it clearly, dad was on a call.” She says, uninterested all of a sudden. You hum and continue lining up the books on the table before walking through the aisles, busying yourself, making sure all the books are in the right space. It only takes a minute before you hear Mia’s footsteps behind you. “Did you? Do it?” She speaks out nervously, voice shaking a little. You turn to face her with a reassuring smile, keeping your fear locked inside.

“Of course not.” I don’t know. That’s what you want to say, that’s what you really think. You don’t know what you’ve done, don’t know where you were last night.

“Good. That would suck.” Mia says after pouting for a moment in thought. You chuckle and shake your head, clearing your throat.

“It sure would.”

Mia left you a couple minutes after roaming through the fantasy section, deciding to get back to school. You tried listening to music, tried reading a new book, even tried to call Wanda but it went straight to voicemail. You couldn’t get the horrifying thoughts out of your head. Guilt was weighing you down by the second. There was no other conclusion to be made. You killed Rebecca McNeil and you deserve to be punished for it. That’s why you didn’t resist when the cops showed up at your shop two hours later asking you to come in for questioning. You closed the shop and immediately hopped into the back of the car, waiting with your head down.

Waiting in the small room is torture. It’s metal, everything is metal, and cold, and there isn’t a single window in here. It reminds you of your cell when you were still with HYDRA, when they would barge in in the middle of the night, dragging you to different rooms for different methods of torture. It’s all you can think about whenever you hear someone close to the door, overwhelmed with your heightened senses. You don’t usually have trouble controlling your powers but you’re spiralling out of control and have been for the last day or two. Ever since your nightmare, you haven’t been able to escape the intrusive thoughts; the memories that Wanda had pushed back have resurfaced and she’s not here to help, and part of you doesn’t even want her to help. You don’t want her in your head anymore, not when she’d broken your trust, betrayed you.

“Mrs Rushman?” A distorted voice calls out and you blink, shaking your head to fix your blurred vision. You come face to face with a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, thick, sluggish brows and dark hair tied in a tight bun.

“Huh?” You ask for emphasis, glancing around the room to find a woman behind him, blonde locks in an equally tight ponytail.

“I asked if you would like a drink.” The man says in a calm voice, no urgency in his tone. You sit back and clear your throat, shoulders tense at the interruption.

“Water’s fine, please. Thank you.” You ask and watch as the blonde leaves the room. The man sits in silence, eyes on you the entire time watching your every move. You listen to the clock ticking, eyes glancing up at the moving handles every couple of seconds. Giving him a tight smile, you clear your throat again, fingers tapping on the metal table. The blonde finally comes back with a plastic cup filled with ice cold water and you’re all too eager to chug it down. The man waits for you to finish before his hand drops on the table to catch your attention.

“Right. I’m detective Brian Ramirez, this is my partner, detective Angie Brown. Before we start, I’d just like to emphasise you’re not being held here. We’d just like to ask you a couple questions regarding your relationship with the victim.” Right. Brian. Mia’s dad, the detective assigned to Rebecca’s case. You don’t see the resemblance with his daughter, maybe just their dark hair. Other than that...his kind eyes are just a facade, a mask, a false sense of reassurance before he strikes. You’ve dealt with plenty of Brians' way worse than him - the type of men that don’t use words to strike.

“Sure, anything to help.” You say in a light voice paired with a small smile not too wide considering someone has just died.

“What was the nature of your relationship with Rebecca McNeil?” Brian asks casually, sighing as he opens his notepad, pen ready in his hand.

“Neighbours.” You answer curtly, leaving nothing for him to use against you. This isn’t your first time being interrogated; you know exactly how to deal with him.

“Just neighbours?” He pushes, a brow raised high.

“I mean, she invited my wife and I to dinner once, that’s the extent of it. Just neighbours.” You add with a tight smile, knowing that details matter. You don’t want to say something and then be proved wrong or caught in a lie.

“Mr McNeil has said you’d been at the house multiple times.” Angie speaks up, startling you by her rough and accusatory tone. She scrapes the metal chair on the ground, turning it around and sitting with her arms resting over the back of the chair.

“I-Well, of course, to return her dish. She baked cookies the day we moved here. Neighbourly stuff, you know?” You emphasise, fingers tapping on the table impatiently now. They can’t even catch you in a lie because you can’t be certain whether you did it or not.

“Of course. Mrs Rushman, it’s important that you be as truthful as you can.” Brian says in a pressing tone after noting down what you’ve just said.

“I am being truthful.” You struggle not to roll your eyes at them, keeping your calm and collected manner.

“So there’s no romantic element to your relationship with the victim?” Of course Seth would suspect that. The poor guy can’t please his wife for shit and she’s been all over you ever since you met. It’s not hard to miss her lustful eyes, the hand brushing over your arms every now and then. You could tell how uncomfortable he was with all the touching at dinner a couple weeks ago.

“What? Romantic? I’m married.” You let out a huff of disbelief at that, feigning amusement at their accusation.

“Happily?” Angie pushes with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, happily married. I would never cheat on my wife.” And it’s true. You can’t imagine cheating on Natasha - that’s if you were together. At this rate, she wouldn’t even want you after knowing what you did. She was worried about the horrible things she had done, but you’re truly the one that would taint her. That’s the last thing you want to do.

“Mr McNeil seems to think the opposite.” Angie clears her throat before standing up, nails scraping along the metal table as she walks over to you. “See, Rebecca talked. She loved to talk, especially when she had a couple drinks in her. Mr McNeil says she loved to talk...about you. About how great you are, about your ‘hot’ outfits, about how badly she wants-sorry, wanted you.” She leans down when she reaches you, talking into your ear. It’s not hard to believe Rebecca would accidentally spill her secret to Seth. But what you’re confused about is why he never confronted you about it. Deciding that they’re likely lying to try to get a reaction out of you, you scoff with wide, shocked eyes.

“That’s absurd, we’ve only interacted a couple of times.” You cross your arms over your chest defensively, freezing in your tracks when a wide smirk creeps its way onto Angie’s face.

“Oh? I thought it was just the dish and dinner?” Brian says with a raised brow, leaning forward ready to push and ask more now that he’s found an opening. The door slams open before he can utter another word.

“Good evening, detectives. My name is Natalie Rushman, I’m Reagan Rushman’s lawyer. Are you charging my client with anything?” Your eyes stay glued to Natasha when she walks in, grey suit accentuating all her best assets. Her tone is cold, calculated, emotionless as she glares the two detectives down.

“No, but-” Angie speaks up after clearing her throat, but Natasha’s harsh tone interrupts her, making the blonde glare at her.

“Then this interrogation is over.” Natasha gestures for you to get up and you quickly listen, brushing your hand over your clothes as you make your way around the table. Brian stops you before you leave.

“Right. Give me a call if anything else comes to mind.” He hands you a card with his number on it and you shove it into your pocket with a quick smile and nod of thanks. You’re practically running after Natasha out of the station and into your car. You can’t tell if she’s mad at you or not, but you sit in silence until she speaks up just to be sure.

“Maria is fuming.” Natasha says quietly as she drives, eyes on the road. You glance at her, clearing your throat nervously.

“I figured.” Natasha sighs after a moment.

“She wants to pull you out.” She confesses, but you already know she wants you back at the compound. She trusted you, and you failed her.

“I kno-”

“ Ross wants to pull you out.” Natasha interrupts, shocking you yet again with the new piece of information.

“I-What? Ross is involved now?” You groan out, dropping your head into your hands. This must be more serious than you thought. If General Ross knows and has involved himself, you’re in serious trouble.

“Y/N, did you do it?” Natasha asks you in a serious tone as she pulls into the driveway. You can’t blame her for accusing you, but you lash out anyway because what the fuck is even happening? You’d expect her to be on your side and help you through this, but here she is asking you if you killed someone.

“Seriously?” You scoff at her, turning to face her. She clenches her jaw before turning to you with hard eyes.

“Her head was crushed, Y/N. You were gone all night. I just want to help in whatever way I can, but I can’t if you don’t tell me the truth.” She asks, eyes softening a little, trying to let you know that you can trust her, but you can’t even trust yourself right now.

“I don’t know the fucking truth, Natasha! I thought I was done with this, I thought I flushed HYD- them out of my system, but I know what I heard, I know what I felt last night, I know those were trigger words and I can’t fucking remember, I can’t remember and I-I did it. They made me-” You rant without a moment to catch your breath, choking on your own words by the time Natasha unclasps her seatbelt to lean over and hold your face in her hands. She knows you’re overly sensitive right now, but she also knows that what you need is to be grounded.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, look at me. Just breathe. Here, breathe with me, you’re okay.” Natasha pulls your hand and rests it over her heart, letting you feel the rhythm. She’s calm, breathing with ease, and it’s oddly comforting knowing she’ll always be there to pull you back no matter how panicked you get. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. You got this. You’re the strongest person I know.” Natasha whispers as you slowly sync your heart with hers, breathing with your lips parted slightly. All you can smell is lavender and Natasha, and you don’t need to open your eyes to see those forest greens that you want to skydive into; they’re engraved into your mind anyway, flashing up the moment you need to calm yourself. She leans closer to you, her nose brushing against yours to catch your attention. “I’m so sorry. I should have come out to help, I cou-” Your eyes snap open at her words, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Don’t do that. It’s not your fault.” She’s the last person to take the blame in this situation but it warms your heart that she cares. She cares enough to find a way to blame herself, to help, to try to take some of the heavy weight off your shoulders.

“It’s not yours either.” You scoff in response, rolling your eyes and looking away from her with a clenched jaw. Her hands grip your jaw as you move away but you brush her hands off. You’re fighting tears at this point; your whole body, every atom that forms together to make you is overwhelmed to the absolute max, vibrating with tension and anxiety. “Hey. This wasn’t you. It was them.” Natasha emphasises but you have to take responsibility. It’s a part of you. You did this.

“ My hands. My hands are stained, not theirs.” You say with finality, leaving the car and slamming both the car door and house door as you march inside, rushing up the stairs. Your entire body feels so fucking hot, your skin on fire, burning your insides with every step. You run into the bathroom, kicking the door shut, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into the bath. Taking a desperate, sharp breath in, you manage to twist the knob to turn the cold water on, letting the ice contrast the heat and cool you down.

“Y/N? I heard a crash, are you okay?” You hear Natasha’s distorted voice but you don’t have it in you to answer. You don’t want this guilt, you don’t want the responsibility anymore, all you want is to feel nothing. You sit with your knees up, arms hugging them as you bury your face into your wet sleeves. You don’t know when you started crying or how long you’d been sitting here with the cold water dripping over your shivering body. But when you open your eyes after hearing a sniffle, you meet bright green eyes staring at you, full lips pressing into a pout.

“I’m cold.” Natasha whispers after a short moment, pout tugging into a wide smile as the corner of your lips tilts upwards a little. She’s mirroring your position, chin on her knees as she keeps her soft eyes locked on you - apart from the blinking from the water dripping into her eyes every couple seconds. “The first time I had a nightmare was during my first month in the Red Room.” She starts, speaking softly not to startle you. You want to protest to tell her she doesn’t have to speak about this, but you can’t utter a single word. You look at her with tired but engaged eyes, brows furrowed a little. “They used to handcuff us to our beds, so when I woke up all I could do was pull and pull and pull until I dislocated my thumb. I could barely feel the pain, it wasn’t as bad as what was going on inside my head.” She takes a shaky breath after that, but she doesn’t break eye contact and you can see everything through her eyes. She lets you in and you can see how much pain she’s been put through, all these ‘tests’ sent by the universe, these obstacles that she had to fight through all alone. You’ve always had admiration for her, but seeing her in front of you now, vulnerability in her eyes but managed to stay calm for you, the sheer emotional strength she’s showing sparks something new in your heart. You think you’ve fallen in love with her a little more just because of the eyes. “I ran to the showers, turned it on at the coldest it would go, and sat there the entire night. They thought punishing me would make sure I never do it again, but it just made me sneakier.” She raises a brow playfully, a small smirk on her lips to lighten the mood. You can’t help the quirk of your lips at her expression. “I had a cold for the next two weeks. So...unless you want to be bedridden with a runny nose eating nothing but chicken noodle soup, I think we should start making a move...is that okay?” She makes a pretty strong argument. 

You can barely lift your head, can’t even open your mouth to speak and even if you could, you’re pretty sure you’d choke. You manage to nod slowly and she gives you a soft smile before moving to stand up. It’s then that it hits you; she climbed into the bath of ice cold water with you. You don’t know how long she’s been sitting with you, but her clothes and hair are completely soaked and tears spring in your eyes automatically. I don’t deserve this. “Can I turn off the water?” You nod again, shivering when the air suddenly hits your wet clothes. Natasha immediately wraps a towel around you, fluffing your hair with the towel, giggling a little to earn another soft smile from you, a little wider this time. 

Natasha lifts you, helps you out of the shower, strips you of your wet clothes and hers and dumps them in the laundry basket; she takes care of you, dries you off, takes you to bed where a bottle of water is already sitting on the nightstand for you. And she climbs right into bed with you, pulling the covers over the both of you until you’re completely shielded with the soft blanket. You realise it’s that heated blanket she bought the other week and you can’t help it anymore. You lean in, nose to nose, and sigh.

“I-” You start, but stop yourself. You can’t say the words. If you do...it changes everything. It’s no longer a crush, it’s not just ‘having feelings’ for each other. It’s deeper and you’ve scared her enough.

“Goodnight, weirdo.” She mumbles teasingly with a smile, pulling you in until her naked body is flush against your skin, head fitting under your chin and arms wrapping around you. You pull her in, a single tear dropping down the side of your face onto the pillow. You won’t be cruel to her. You can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, your body still feels heavy but doesn’t ache like it did last night. You don’t even want to think about the past two days. You managed to roll out of bed, skipping a shower and heading downstairs to find Natasha cooking breakfast for you. Bacon, omelettes with cheese and only cheese - just how you like it - on heaps of buttered toast. You don’t know how she managed to do it all without burning something until she opens the trash can with a blush, showing you the two charred pieces of toast.

“Cute.” You mumble with a smirk, sitting down on a stool with a sigh.

“Eat up, you need the energy.” Natasha says after rolling her eyes at you. She pours you a cup of orange juice and leaves the carton on the kitchen island next to you, knowing you’ll likely finish it anyway.

“Why?” Munching on your omelette, you let out a soft moan at the taste of butter, grease, cheese, everything you love made by the person you love. She grins at your antics as you look up at her and blow her a kiss.

“I have plans for us tonight.” Natasha says, shrugging her blazer on. Your eyes scan her outfit; she’s opted for a dark green suit today and wow. Brings out her eyes, not that they need any more attention; it’s the first thing you look at whenever your eyes land on her.

“Oh, yeah? What plans?” You ask her teasingly, intrigued by what she’s suddenly planned overnight. Fuck, how did she become a chef overnight too? You’re already halfway through your meal, still moaning at how good it tastes.

“Well, I was thinking we’d go have dinner. Maybe we can go dancing afterwards? And, of course, end the night with milkshakes.” She says into your ear as she comes up behind you, head leaning over your shoulder. Her red waves flow, tickling your shoulder. Turning your head to face her, you lean in closer, your nose brushing against hers.

“That...sounds like exactly what I need.” You whisper with a big smile that tugs even wider when she pecks your cheek quickly. I love you. You wouldn’t be able to handle the heartbreak. Worst case scenario, you’ll end up leaving the team and working for S.H.I.E.L.D. as a regular agent, all because you wouldn’t be able to handle losing Natasha Romanoff after you’ve felt her, tasted her, seen the real her.

“Can’t wait. If you’re up for it, go to work today. At least for a couple hours. It’d take some heat off of you, keeping appearances and all.” Natasha rambles, giving reasoning, but you need to go today anyway. It’ll keep your mind off things.

“Will do, ma’am.” You murmur, finishing your plate already. You chug down your drink and turn to take your plates to the sink, but Natasha’s right there behind you, wrapping her arms around your neck. You take a long, deep breath of her perfume, burying your face in her neck as her fingers gently stroke the back of your neck.

“Have I told you how much I like it when you call me that? Very gentlewomanly of you.” She whispers into your ear and you don’t need to move to know she’s smirking. But you do anyway, just to look into her eyes, your nose brushing against hers.

“Why, thank you, doll. I’m just here to please.” You smirk back, resting your forehead on yours. She rolls her eyes but you know she loves it by the slight blush on her cheeks. Nat leans in a final time, connecting your lips together with a content sigh. Neither one of you attempts to deepen the kiss, both of you just resting, just feeling each other for a moment before she pulls away.

“Mhm. Don’t be late.” She bites her lip with a soft smile, fingers slipping away from you as she walks backwards.

“I won’t. Promise.” Hate to see her go but love to watch her leave.

Ignoring your problems worked until your phone buzzed in your pocket. You’re a little annoyed that your glasses had disappeared the night you disappeared; everything was way easier with F.R.I.D.A.Y. doing everything for you. You pull out your phone with a sigh that turns into a groan when you see the caller ID.

‘I know. You don’t need to shout at me.’ You answer, speaking before she can yell at you.

‘I didn’t call to yell. Y/N, I’m really worried about you. Please. You need to drop this and come back to the compound.’ Maria pleads with no real command in her tone. You can tell she’s being genuine, and if you’re honest with yourself you know you’re in way over your head but you need to finish this mission.

‘I appreciate that. But I’m an Avenger.’ You lower your voice at the last word, glancing outside the window to make sure no one’s around. ‘I got this. Just keep Ross off my back for the meantime, please. I’m begging you, Maria.’ You plead and hear Maria sigh loudly on the other end of the line. You’re pushing your luck, you know that, and you’re pushing her, but something deeper is going on here and you’ll figure it out if it’s the last thing you do.

‘It’s your MO, Y/N. He’s convinced it was you. Was it?’ Maria asks - not accuses - and you appreciate that. But you still can’t give her an answer to that. Not when you’re still coming to terms with it yourself.

‘It’s complicated. Just give me some time to sort this shit out. I’ll owe you one, I’ll owe you twenty , please.’ You plead again, waiting in silence until Maria sighs once again. You cheer internally, knowing you’ve won already.

‘You get another week. That’s all, Y/N, I’m serious. I’m putting my foot down.’ She says; her commanding tone that you’re so used to is back now. It’s oddly comforting. She hasn’t changed; the only thing that changed is she doesn’t hate you anymore. If anything, your relationship with her is going back to the way it was before the sex, without the drama and jealousy and resentment.

‘Thank you so much, Maria, I appreciate it. I’ll buy you dinner when I get back.’ You promise with an automatic grin, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear as you lift the box of shipped books down the aisle and into the backroom.

‘You owe me a lot more than dinner.’ Maria teases and you roll your eyes, dropping the box quickly and shutting the door, not wanting to be in there a second longer than needed. You’ll end up thinking of that night and it’s haunted you enough.

‘I know. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

‘Please be careful.’ Maria says in a soft tone and you sigh, understanding her concern.

‘Always am.’ You’ll be fine.

The second you close the shop, you turn to see wrinkly skin and a midnight black eye staring at you. Startled, you let out a gasp and hold a hand to your heart, acting even more shocked than you are. You’re ‘normal’ after all and what normal person wouldn’t shit their pants after that? She has to know she gives off creepy vibes.

“Oh, Bertha, you startled me. Sorry.” You laugh out nervously, avoiding her gaze. Her eyes are burning through your cheek and you can’t keep looking away, not when she corrects you in a harsh tone.

“ Nanny Bertha. When are you going to learn, child?” She says a little too loudly, gathering a little attention from people walking by. You gulp, not knowing how to react appropriately to this. You want to yell, to run, maybe even punch her, but you simply frown and look down at your feet. Like a child.

“I-Uh, I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable calling you that.” You say apologetically. She simply hums and nods, pushing for answers.

“And why is that?” She asks and slams her cane on the ground when you don’t give an answer. Your head shoots up in annoyance, clenching your jaw and struggling to contain your anger at her. Maybe Maria was right; you’re a terrible actress.

“Look, I’m really sorry, but my wife’s waiting for me at home.” Her dry lips curve into a smile at that, tilting her head. You’re pretty sure you heard a crack.

“Is she?”

“Yes, she is. Date night. So if you don’t mind, I-” You burst out, already making a move to walk home, but she sticks out her cane, stopping you from stepping past her. You’re just a couple seconds away from bolting at this point just to avoid beating the shit out of an old woman. You can’t help that she gives you the creeps. Shivers run down your spine just by looking at her.

“A date, you say? Well, what do people typically give to their lovers on dates?” She says annoyingly, waiting for an answer.

“Flowers.” You begrudgingly respond, crossing your arms over her chest. A cocky expression takes over her features before she turns around, cane pounding on the ground with each step back into her shop.

“Come on in, I’ll mix the perfect batch for you.” She leaves no room for debate so you let out a groan and follow her in, the swinging bell above the door ringing in your ears. Just when you thought you got that ringing sound out, it’s back just like that. Ever since you woke up in the backroom of your shop, your ears kept ringing, everything sounding distorted unless you paid attention. The cold water, Natasha’s body against yours, heck just her eyes were enough to stop the ringing. God, you need to get back home.

“Just something simple. Roses.” You ask urgently with a tight smile. Bertha takes her time though, clearly wanting to torture you.

“Oh, that’s boring. Let’s see...how about these?” After a couple minutes of moving around, she finally hands a bouquet over to you.

“Anemones?” You frown, vaguely remembering the meaning behind these ones. It’s definitely negative, but you’re not bothered to dig deep right now. You just need to get home. You promised you wouldn’t be late.

“ Red anemones. Very beautiful. I think these are perfect for your wife.” Bertha says, smiling widely as you take the flowers.

“Sure, whatever. How much?” You dig into your pockets but she stops you with a hand over your wrist. You pull away quickly, hating the feeling of her wrinkly skin on yours, but she doesn't take offence to it.

“On the house. You can pay later; you’ll be back.” The smile never leaves her face as she watches you walk away quickly.

“Have a nice night.” You give her a final wave before the door slams shut behind you.

“Likewise, Reagan.”

Walking home, you lean down and smell the flowers frowning. The flowers are all wrong. Natasha would hate these. Not only do they look scary, like eyes staring into your soul, but they smell off too. You dig deep in your mind through the hundreds of pages of Greek literature you’ve read to try to remember the story. Aphrodite. Of course it’s Aphrodite’s story. 

The daughter of the wind is what the name Anemone means. But the story derives from something else. Aphrodite had many lovers - being the goddess of sexuality - but she loved none more than Adonis. He was a mere mortal, nothing compared to her power as a goddess, but she loved him. So did Persephone, the queen of the underworld. They fought over Adonis until Zeus declared that Adonis would spend a third of his final year in the underworld with each goddess, but he gets to choose who to spend the last third with. He chose Aphrodite, it was always going to be Aphrodite. Myths say he was killed by a wild boar - makes sense with him being a hunter - but deeper theories hint that other Gods were jealous of Aphrodite’s love for him. Jealous enough to have Adonis killed. While she mourned for her lover, her tears falling onto his grave mixed with his blood to create the red anemone flower which bloomed over his grave. Yikes.

These are perfect for your wife? Seriously? These are used to decorate graves, a bouquet for funerals. They symbolise death for crying out loud. Death...forsaken love...the blooming, passing of time…

Something’s wrong. Something is so wrong. Panic fills your chest as you speed up your walking. Why the hell would she give you these? You’re not one for superstitions but if you were, these flowers would be the worst thing to gift to someone. You need to get home to Natasha. Pushing past some people on the sidewalk, you pick up the pace, running at this point, your hair flying through the wind. You run faster than normal, faster than you should be running if you want to keep your ‘normal’ appearance, but you can’t stop. Not until you get to the gate, that gate of your house that’s already open. The flowers slip out of your hands, forgotten by you the moment you see the front door wide open. The lights are off in the house but her car is parked in the driveway. You take a step closer but pause in your tracks.

You let out a heavy sigh. Taking a deep breath, you slowly take another step, stopping again when you see a drop of red on the concrete in front of you. No. No, no, no! Breaking into a sprint, you run forward, letting out a choked gasp when you see the pool of blood on the floor just inside the front door. Your heart drops in your chest, splattering instead of bouncing back up. This can’t be happening. You suck in a sharp breath, looking up to avoid the tightness in your throat and ache in your chest when you look at the blood. At Natasha’s blood. This isn’t happening. If this is a nightmare it’s the worst possible one for your mind to conjure up.

“Natasha.” You call out quietly, praying to hear an answer, to hear her voice call for you, to reassure you that this isn’t real. “Nat? Natasha!” You cry out, rushing into the house, running through the living room. Her case is on the couch, a half empty glass of water on the kitchen counter. She was here. She was right here. “Natasha!” You call out again, your voice cracking as you jump 5 steps at a time to get up the staircase. Your bedroom’s empty, but her green suit’s on the bed. Her make-up sits on the dresser, scattered, used. She was right here. “Nat. No. No, no, no, Nat, please. Natasha?!” You call out again, but there’s no hope. Rushing downstairs, you cry out as you see the pool of blood again, hands digging into your locks, pulling, punishing yourself. You can feel it. You can feel your hands, feel the dull pain as you pull on your hair harshly. This is real; you’re not waking up. It’s real. It’s my fault. I did this. I promised. I promised. “Nat.” You break out into a sob as you drop to your knees, hands drenched in her blood. In Natasha’s blood, in Rebecca’s blood, in buckets of the blood of your victims, the people killed by Crusher. They all flash through your mind, blinding you. You only realise the flashes are real when you feel hands grabbing yours behind your back.

“-have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” The voice behind you speaks out, but it distorts immediately and all you can hear is deafening screams.

“I was late.” You whisper, staring ahead. You broke your promise.

Chapter Text

“I promise you it doesn’t taste as bad as you think it does!” Natasha cries out, laughing loudly as you fake gag and hold her hands away from your face. Your face lights up at the sound of her laughter, a light blush on your cheeks that she can’t help smiling at.

“I have had avocados before and they taste like dirt.” You claim with a glare as she keeps the spoon tightly in her hand, shoving it towards your mouth. “Get it away from me!” Natasha cackles at your reaction, face turning red at how hard she’s laughing. You can’t help but chuckle along with her, arms weakening a little as you let your guard down. She takes that opportunity for one last push, forcing the spoon between your lips.

“Aha! There we go! No, swallow! Swallow it, it’s good! I promise. Would I ever lie to you?” Natasha’s bright eyes sparkle in the sunlight, red locks shining from the light beaming through the dusty windows. You drop your arms after tasting the green mush, realising it’s not actually bad.

“Creamy.” You mumble, mouth filled with avocado.

“Ew, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Natasha scolds you playfully, handing you a plate with toast, mushy avocado, and a fried egg on top. “This is healthy. It’ll make you feel better and stronger, not lazy and sluggish.” She says with a grin, moaning as she takes a bite of her mirrored meal.

“Hey. I’m not lazy.” You say defensively, narrowing your eyes at her. She rolls her eyes in response, pouring you a cup of orange juice. Your hand squeezes her for a brief moment as a thanks.

“You called me to come downstairs just to give you the remote.” Natasha says bluntly and you raise a brow, asking her to elaborate.

“And?”

“Y/N, it was on the table.” She snorts out, covering her mouth at the sound. You laugh along with her, nothing but adoration in your eyes. The way you’ve been seeing more and more of the real, carefree Natasha Romanoff only has you falling harder.

“Exactly...I’d have to get up.” Natasha giggles at your response, throwing her head back. She exposes her pale neck and you don’t even want to mark it; it’ll taint her. You just want to feel her soft skin against your lips, just want to kiss her.

“Point proven.”

“Whatever. What did you do to this? Poison it?” You accuse her after taking a bite because it’s actually good. You never thought green shit could taste good, especially after Wanda Wednesdays. No matter what salad Wanda would make, you just had to go get a burger afterwards. Despite Nat not being able to cook most things, she seems to have a couple specialities.

“Do you think poison tastes good?” Natasha snorts again, sipping on her orange juice. You glance at her from across the kitchen island, but it’s more than just a glance. Half the time you’re full-on staring but she doesn’t mind.

“Who knows? Maybe it does.” You say playfully, shrugging your shoulders.

“I just seasoned it, babe, it’s not that hard. Salt, pepper, chilli flakes, lime, and-” Your heart swells at the nickname and you’re 100% sure you’re blushing by how hot your cheeks feel, but you clear your throat and divert the conversation.

“So you just added spices to mask the flavour of dirt?” You catch Natasha off guard and she has no choice but to stumble on her words. You do this often; prove her wrong, annoying her in the process because she can’t be stubborn in the face of truth.

“I-Yes. Essentially.” She begrudgingly agrees but her annoyance only lasts a second. She fights the wide smile etching its way onto her face but fails miserably.

“See, this is why I married you. Always taking care of me.” You playfully tell her, holding her hand from across the kitchen island with an exaggerated bat of your eyelashes.

“Will you always take care of me?” She asks in a suddenly quiet voice. You look down at your plate, taking another bite of your food, retracting your hand from hers.

“Of course, love. That’s my job.” You promise her after washing down your food with the rest of the orange juice.

“But you didn’t.” Natasha says suddenly, her voice rough. You frown at that, looking up to see her face bruised, a cut on her cheek.

“What?” You whisper back, suddenly finding your arms too heavy to move. No, no, you want to help her, you need to help her. You look down to see the plate of food suddenly rotten, flies circling over your half-eaten toast, the mush turning into brown, worm-filled dirt.

“You didn’t take care of me, Y/N. You were late.” Natasha says in a raspy voice, a distorted voice. You can’t even look at her, too ashamed of yourself, too guilty.

“I was late.” You whisper, feeling her cold presence suddenly behind you. The lights gradually turn off, the day turning into night, into that night. All you see on the table is the half empty glass of water Natasha was drinking before-before she-

“I told you not to be late. And now I’m-” Her voice is louder this time, pounding into your head.

“Dead. You’re dead. I was late.” You choke out, not even wanting to say the words. You don’t want to believe that she’s gone, but when you look ahead you see the pile of dark blood on the floor and the open door. You see a figure standing blocking the moonlight, a dark green HYDRA logo on their chest. They’re going to pay.

“It’s your fault.” But Natasha’s right. It’s your fault. You have to pay for what you’ve done, for what you’ve caused. She’s gone and wouldn’t be gone if you had just come home on time. If you had taken care of her like you promised you would.

“It’s all my fault.” You whisper over and over again, jerking upwards to try and move your arms, to try and reach out to Nat one last time before she walks away, stepping through the pool of her blood. Please don’t go.

“Is that admission of guilt? We just got admission of guilt, Ramirez.” A voice speaks out, jumbled up, quiet, distorted. You can’t pay attention to anything, anyone but Natasha’s figure walking away from you.

“Don’t jump the gun, Brown. She’s clearly in shock. Mrs Rushman? Reagan?” A scruffy beard comes into view and you blink at the sudden change. The darkness fades away, revealing the two detectives in front of you. Both are standing up away from you and when you look down you see the cuffs chained to the table. That explains why you couldn’t move your arms.

“I was late.” You whisper, no longer able to look up. The blood, Natasha’s blood, stained your hands and you can’t look away from them. You don’t want to look away, you deserve this pain, you deserve to be punished. It’s all your fault.

“Late to what, Reagan?” He asks for elaboration patiently waiting as a tear slides down your cheek involuntarily.

“Dinner. She said don’t be late. I promised her. Oh, God, I promised I wouldn’t be late, and now she’s-she’s-” You choke on your last words, face scrunching up in anguish, guilty as you let the tears fall freely. Your tears mix with her blood on your hands but anemones don’t bloom here. There’s no beauty to this story. It’s no longer a myth, no longer fake; this is real. Natalie isn’t dead, Natasha is.

“I’m not buying this for one second. Your prints are all over Rebecca McNeil’s body. We’ve got you first degree murder-” Angie accues in a rough voice, smirk on her face as she rolls her eyes at your behaviour. Your ‘act’ as she calls it.

“She’s gone. Nat’s gone.” You choke out, not even giving Rebecca a second thought. You could have found a way to live with that. But Natasha? Losing her like this? Knowing you’re the one to blame? You’ll never come back from this. You don’t deserve to be okay with this, to find a way to live with it; you deserve to suffer with that burden on your conscience for the rest of your life.

“Where is your wife, Mrs Rushman? Where did you hide her body?” Ramirez asks, gentler than Brown. His eyes are kinder, like Mia’s, but it’s a deception when you hear his words, his accusation. You are to blame but your hands are not what killed her. You would never be cruel to her, not like that. Never.

“I didn’t kill her! I-I promised never to be cruel to her. I won’t be cruel. Not to her. Never to her. I won’t be cruel, no-” You repeat, whispering, rocking back and forth to try to shake off the coldness in your body, the cold presence you feel behind you like Natasha’s here, following you, haunting you. She’ll always be there for you, with you, just like she promised. Why couldn’t you keep your promise too?

“She’s in hysterics, Brown, we can’t question her like this.” Ramirez pushes, but Brown ignores him. She slams her hands on the metal table, the sound echoing, bouncing against the walls of the small interrogation room.

“Come on, it’s all an act. I’m not giving in.” She leans down, smacking the table to get you to look up at her. Your head snaps up with a glare, jaw clenching, teeth grinding against each other. “Look at me. You’re not getting away with this by playing the crazy card. You manipulated your way into Rebecca’s McNeil’s life, broke her marriage apart and killed her when she wanted more from you. What happened? Did she threaten to tell your wife? Did Natalie find out, is that why you killed her too?” She accuses, almost yelling at you at this point. The glare falls off your face at the mention of Natasha and you have no control over yourself anymore. You fall apart.

“Natasha…” You cry out, head dropping onto the metal table as tears run down your face, dripping onto the metal.

“Natasha? I thought her name was Natalie?” Brown asks, confused.

“Like I said, she’s in hysterics. Just take her to her cell. We’ll try again tomorrow morning.” You barely feel anything, barely see anything through the avalanche of tears falling down your face.

“Natasha...I’m so sorry, Nat. I’m so sorry.” You cry out, begging for her to hear you, for her to forgive you. You’re dragged through the station until you’re thrown into a cell. You let them manhandle you, having no strength to fight them off. Thrown onto the ground, you sit back against the concrete wall, breathing heavily as you sob.

“You’re a monster.” One of the officers spits at you as he closes and locks the cell and you agree with him. He’s right, everyone’s right. Maria was right.

“Monster.” You growl at yourself, hands pulling at your hair. “ You did this.” You tug and tug until it’s not enough, your hands laying flat against your face. “You killed them.” You slap yourself once and it comes again, and again, and again until you need more. You need to be punished. By the time they realise what you’re doing, your face is bruised from your punches, head trickling with blood that you’ve smudged on the wall. You don’t count how many officers it takes to make you stop banging your head against the wall, but you vaguely hear the commotion and before you know it you’re strapped to the small bed. “No, no please, I’m sorry, please, don’t do this!” You cry out, suddenly seeing the faces of the officers around you all blurred. All you can make out is the HYDRA logos. “Not again, please! Let me go!” You cry out, writhing, thrusting your body to try and free yourself from the tight straps. “Please.” You whisper as you break out into another sob, body still, sinking into the bed when you realise there’s nothing you can do anymore. You deserve this. “I deserve this.” You spend the night haunted by your past, groaning, crying out with every broken bone, every needle stuck into you, every scar they’ve ever given you, reliving it over and over again. No one pays mind to your screams.

“I don’t know who you are but you have no right to barge through here! We have evidence to hold her, she’s guilty whether we get an admission or not!” You haven’t slept the entire night, but you calmed down enough for them to untie you and let you roam around your cell. With your head already pounding, the sudden screaming from detective Brown only makes you feel worse. You fade the voices out slightly, weakening your Super-hearing. It’s been a long night, you’ve spent it all thinking about ways to get her back. All you want is Natasha. You refuse to accept that she’s gone. You know better than that, better than to doubt her abilities. She’s one of the strongest, most skillful people you know; she’s still out there and you know it. You have to have hope.

“This is above your pay grade, detective.” A voice speaks back, assertive and commanding. You already know who it is, but you can’t get up from the ground, head hanging down, watching an ant crawl around in a circle aimlessly. No pact, no hoard, no family. No purpose.

“This is ridiculous! You’re letting a murderer run free. I hope you can live with that on your conscience.” She growls out in anger but your saviour doesn’t waver. She stands her ground, keeping her commanding tone.

“I’m bringing her home. Come on, Y/N.” She addresses you, voice a little more gentle. But you don’t get up. You’re not sure you can get up. You deserve to be locked in here.

“Y/N?” Brown says bewilderedly.

“Some detective you are. The ‘Rushmans’ were running an undercover operation to bring down a criminal organisation in your own town because you were too incompetant to even suspect anything was going on.” She scolds Brown who cowers in response, confident persona disappearing.

“I-What?”

“Like I said, it’s above your pay grade. Now let her go. I have orders from people who can make sure you never work in the force another day of your life.” She threatens with a glare and Brown glares back, not wanting to back down.

“Yes, uh-” Ramirez saves his partner, immediately taking over and holding his hand out to Brown for her to hand the keys.

“Deputy Director Hill.” Maria responds, proud of her status, a smirk on her face that Brown can’t match.

“Nothing we can do, Brown. Let her go.” Ramirez pushes until Brown grunts and gives him the keys.

“Unbelievable.” She mumbles angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Come on.” Maria tells you to come with her as she steps into the cell but you barely move an inch. She scans your features, seeing how weak you look, the cut on your head still healing, your fading bruises along your jaw and cheek. “What did you do to her?” She growls out, spinning around to an equally angry detective Brown.

“She did this to herself.” She spits out before turning on her heel and walking away. Maria sighs and takes this moment of privacy to lean down, her hand gently touching your arm.

“Y/N? Come on, let’s get you home.” She whispers and you finally lift your head up, red and puffy eyed. You can’t leave this city, this town. Not yet, not until you get Natasha back.

“No. I need to find Natasha.” You leave no room for argument but Maria stands her ground. You’ve pushed her far enough and asked for chance after chance. She’s just about had enough.

“Y/N…”

“She’s still out there. I can feel it, feel her. I need to find her.” You plead, begging her as a tear rolls down your cheek. You don’t even notice it anymore, it just happens. You can’t stop crying, can’t stop the pounding in your head, the racing of your heart. You have to save her.

“You are in no condition to get back into the field. You’re lucky I’m the one who was sent here and not Ross.” Maria stands up, rubbing the back of her neck to try and contain her frustration. But you keep pushing and you don’t care, you just care about bringing Natasha back.

“She’s out there! She’s out there and she’s hurt and she needs me!” You stumble up to your feet, veins in your neck popping as you cry out desperately. But Maria’s harsh tone and glare make you falter in your movement. You step back, leaning against the wall for support.

“No, Y/N, she needed you! Past tense! Needed. And you weren’t there.” Maria yells at you, face red in anger. She’s mad at you for disappointing her, mad for pushing her over and over again just to make things worse. She blames you for what happened to Natasha. Your shoulders drop, cowering after the reality of her words hit you. Wordlessly, you follow her, dragging your feet. The jet is right outside the station, no longer having to stay hidden since your cover’s blown. “Get in.” She demands as the door opens and she marches in. Reluctantly, you follow, but keep arguing in your defence.

“She’s not dead. She can’t be. I came home and-and she was gone and it looked like a struggle. There was blood outside the house. Someone took her, Maria.” Maria stands in the middle where there’s a bolted down table, looking over the files. You recognise them as your files and you already know she’s been in your house. It’s most likely cleaned out and empty now, every memory you made with Natasha just wiped away. That thought only angers you more.

“For all I know, Crusher killed her.” Maria lashes out at you and you’re taken aback by her accusation. You thought she’d stick by your side and support you in this, especially knowing your history. Who else can you rely on at this point? Wanda betrayed you and now Maria?

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t, even if-even if they were controlling me. I’d never.” You stutter, tugging at your locks again. You glance around frantically, seeing Clint at the pilot’s seat. Quickly rushing over to him, you take a seat and turn your body to face him. You know how close he is with Natasha and his support would mean everything to you right now. “Clint. I wouldn’t, I’d-” Before you even finish, his hand reaches over to hold onto your shoulder. He gives you a warm, understanding smile, but you can see the pain he’s trying to hide.

“I know, bud. I believe you.” He says in a tired voice. His hair has grown out a little since you last saw him; he shaved the sides off and turned it into a wide mohawk. You’d make fun of him for it under different circumstances, but all you can do now is beg him to help you.

“Then turn the jet around and let me go get her back.” You ask but he shakes his head, staying on the path to the compound.

“Y/N, you’re hurt and not stable enough right now.” He tries to reason with you but you stand your ground.

“I’ll heal.”

“I meant up here.” He points up to your head and you know he’s right, but all you can think about is Natasha. The pool of blood, the struggle, how she must have opened the door thinking it was you after waiting an extra half an hour for you to come home. You let her down. None of this would have happened if you were there.

“Clint, please.” He sighs in response to your pleas and Maria takes over this time. You can barely argue with her, you don’t even want to look at her after she accused you of killing Natasha.

“We don’t have a plan, we don’t know where she’d be if she’s still-”

“She is. I know she is.” You interrupt Maria with a growl, certainty in your voice. She’s alive and you know it. You won’t let go, you won’t give up on her.

“It’s too dangerous. We need to plan this out and bring the rest of the team on board. Rogers is taking over. You’re sitting this one out.” What? You snap your head round to face her, glaring at the back of her head.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s my-” Maria turns around quickly in response as you stop yourself from finishing your sentence. You were about to say wife . You’re in too deep at this point, but fuck it. You love her and you’re going to get her back. No matter what it takes.

“Your what? Your wife? Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. Did you really fall for your own lies? You’re more far gone than I thought you were.” Maria says harshly, not giving you a chance to respond as she turns back to the files on the table.

“Hey. We’ll get her back. She’s a fighter.” Clint whispers to you with a grin but you simply nod and stare straight ahead. You’re already planning your escape in your head. You’ll get her back if it’s the last thing you do as an Avenger.

You don’t sleep the entire journey despite how exhausted you are. You know you’ll wake up because of your nightmares anyway. By the time you’re back, the sun’s setting and you’re buzzing, already planning to steal a jet and get back to New Orleans. But the second the door to the jet opens, you’re met with Tony and Steve standing with their arms crossed over their chests.

“Oh, if it isn’t Crusher! Wow, let me see those hands, real powerful, huh?” Tony yells out, holding his arms out with a humourless laugh. “Bet you feel fucking mighty crushing the head of a poor, innocent woman.” He spits out, growling at you, stepping forward with a murderous glare. As much as his words hurt, you roll your eyes at him and barge by him.

“Fuck off, Stark.” He grips onto your arm tight, pulling you back to glare in your face. His voice borders a whisper but is filled with venom as he spits his words at you.

“This is my compound, my money, my team and you’ve jeopardised it.” You don’t cower from his stare, keeping a glare of your own to match his. His fingernails dig into your skin but you ignore it and don’t falter. “How incompetant can you get? God, it was bad enough seeing you follow Romanoff around like a lovesick puppy, but this is another level of fucked up, Y/L/N.” He growls accusingly, exposing that he’s known how you felt about Natasha all along. It was pretty obvious anyway, but that’s not something to be used against you.

“I didn’t kill her.” You argue back in a steady voice but he shoves you, angry at you for not taking responsibility. You barely move from his push, but you do step back, weak from your lack of sleep and how overwhelmed you’ve been for the last few days. His brows come together angrily as he pulls off his glasses so you can see the anger and hatred in his eyes.

“Oh, but you did. It doesn’t matter if you intended it or not. If I blast a building and a boulder kills a kid that’s on me. This? This is on you.” His voice wavers a little and you know he’s thinking about Charles Spencer. He clears his throat and steps back right into Steve.

“Back off, Tony. She’s been through enough.” Steve scolds him and Tony can’t say anything back so he marches off into the compound, leaving you and Steve outside. He immediately pulls you into his arms, wrapping himself around you, hugging you tight enough for you to be able to feel it, running his hand up and down your spine to comfort you. Breathing him in, you realise just how much you missed him. He’s your closest friend - other than Wanda, but you’re not even sure you’ll call her a friend right now - and he’s always been there for you no matter what. He understands, especially because of what he’s gone through with Bucky. “You want to have a talk?” He whispers, offering a little help, but you sigh and break away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I want Natasha. That’s all I want.” You whisper, looking down at your feet.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” He offers with a sad, apologetic smile, wind blowing through his hair.

“It’s not your fault. It’s-” He interrupts you with a hand on your shoulder, looking down at you, catching your eyes to make you look up at him.

“Not yours either. Don’t do that to yourself. Trust me, it’ll help no one.” He gives your shoulder a squeeze after you offer him a nod, walking away to give you a little space. Clint walks out of the jet with his backpack on, stopping to give you a quick smile.

“You heading in?” He asks, kneeling down to playfully offer you a piggyback ride but you shake your head, turning away from him as you take a shaky breath.

“I just need a minute.”

“Don’t be out too long. You need to be around family.” He sighs out, jogging away leaving you on your own. This is exactly what you need right now, what you deserve. To be alone with your thoughts and come to terms with this. With weak knees, you drop to the ground and sit down on the concrete, legs crossed together. Looking up, you scan the building, scan your surroundings. It hasn’t changed. Of course it hasn’t changed because Tony has maintenance every single day here. The grass is perfect, the windows are spotless and gleaming, but it’s silent. Silent, and empty without Natasha.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in and hold it for as long as you can, letting the wind blow through your hair. If you concentrate enough, you can hear a stomping sound. Loud, echoing in a narrow hallway, getting closer and closer to you. You can see blonde locks, Rebecca’s locks, stained red. Your hands are covered in blood, soaked so bad it’s in your skin, staining it permanently. When you look up, you see a stick pounding on the ground, and can hear words, not in English. A thick accent. A tired but commanding voice. A stick? A cane. 

Bertha. It has to be her.

“Y/N!” A voice calling out breaks you from your deep dive into your memory. Your eyes snap open and look ahead to see lighter locks than you’re used to, almost ginger now. She’s running towards you with a wide smile on her face and shit you miss her but you growl out instead. The only thing on your mind is her betrayal.

“Wanda.” You whisper when she gets closer. She slows down, sensing your frustration and anger.

“I-I missed you.” She hesitantly says and you can feel it already, can see the wisps of red in your head. Snapping your eyes up at her, you glare and almost feel bad at her deep frown.

“Please, stay out of my head.” You keep your voice calm, but you can still feel her in your head. You let out a groan and try to close your mind off to her.

“But-” She protests, her voice raspy, accent fainter. God, he’s really changed her hasn’t he. It’s only been a couple weeks.

“Stay out of my fucking head, Wanda. I mean it.” You leave no room for argument and can tell she’s hurt by your words. Glaring up at her again, you see tears swelling up in her soft eyes. Why should you feel bad? She’s seen you cry over and over again because of a broken heart that she could have fixed if she told you the truth.

“I can sense a little anger-” You hear a robotic voice from above and send a strong, hateful glare up at the red popsicle floating in the sky.

“Fuck off, robot.” You grunt out, throwing a pebble at him. Wanda pays no mind to your antics, stepping closer to you but you stumble up to your feet and back away.

“Y/N, what did I-” She begins but you interrupt her.

“Did you know?” You accuse. Her head tilts in confusion but she’s not as innocent as she pretends to be. Her soft, green eyes open wide with desperation, hand reaching out to you but you step back, crossing your arms over your chest. She’s visibly hurt by the defensive stance, retreating her hand with a deep frown.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wanda stutters but you let out an empty laugh. You can see the hurt on her face by that. Her brows furrow, her lips press together into a pout, eyes tear up even more. With nothing but pure rage flowing through your veins, you ignore the conditioned need to comfort her and rip off the bandaid instead.

“Did you know? About Natasha and Bruce? Did you know they broke up, not because he missed her like you told me, but the truth. Did you know the truth? How long have you known? How long have you kept it from me!?” You yell and vaguely see Vision behind Wanda stepping closer but she holds her hand out behind her to stop him. And he listens. It only makes you angrier and you scoff at the movement, running a hand through your hair and looking up at the sky. You have to avoid looking at Wanda or you’ll lose it. You don’t want to cry in front of her, you don’t want to be vulnerable with her anymore. Not when you can’t trust her.

“She told you.” Wanda whispers in a shaky voice and you hear a sniffle so you know she’s crying but you won’t have this. You won’t have her doing the whole victim shit; she’s the one who betrayed you.

“You-You lied to me, Wanda. You let my heart break-” Your voice cracks and she takes the opportunity to step closer, her hand brushing over yours but you back away at the sting of her touch.

“I’m so sor-” She apologises but you let out a cracked sob and finally look at her, dark mascara ruined as tears run down her face. She’s pouting, frowning with guilt, eyes wide and vulnerable and part of you wants to hug her and tell her it’s all going to be okay but Vision is right there waiting for her. She doesn’t need you. She just needed attention and you were the first to give it. Wanda replaced you the moment you were gone.

“I let you inside my fucking head. You think that was easy? It was one of the hardest things to do but I did it because I trusted you! I did it because I was so sure you’d never use anything against me, so sure that you’d never hurt me. I guess I was wrong.” You yell out but calm down by the end, taking in a sharp breath. You can’t even be mad anymore. You’re just broken, and she used to be the one to help mend you. Not anymore.

“Please, let me explain.” Wanda begs, a last desperate plea as you walk past her. Her hand grips yours and you feel shivers running up and down your spine, but you face her with an empty expression, a defeated look. You’re tired. You’re tired of being constantly broken, tired of your happiness taken away from you the moment you get it, tired of this cruel world.

“Just stay away from me.” You mumble, pulling your hand away harshly, barging past Vision’s cold metal body. Wanda’s sobbing is loud enough for you to hear it so you start jogging away, rushing into the building away from her and her robot.

It’s only when you get into the compound that you realise your clothes are the same you’ve been wearing for days. Looking in the reflective glass, your white polo shirt is stained red with Natasha’s blood. Overwhelmed, heart pounding in your chest against your ribcage like it’s begging to be let out, you struggle as you pull the shirt off and throw it on the ground, making a run for it to the nearest shower you can find. Slamming the door open to the training room, you rush to the locker room and strip the rest of your clothes off on the way. Thankfully the place is empty, not that you’re paying attention anyway. Your skin is on fire, stained, and you have no one. No one to hold you, no one to sit with you on the cold floor as you let the freezing water fall on you and cleanse you of your sins.

“It’s okay.” You hear Natasha’s voice echoing in your head.

“It’s okay.” You repeat, rocking back and forth, body shaking from the cold water dripping over your body.

“You’re okay.” You know you’re hallucinating at this point but it’s helping, she’s helping like she has been for the last few weeks.

“I’m okay.” You whisper, taking a deep breath in and holding it in. The pounding of the cane gets louder and louder until your vision blurs and you see her face, her wrinkly skin, the wide creepy smile on her face.

“When will you learn, child?” Bertha says loudly, angrily, echoing in your head. There’s enough red blood on your hands, but you’re certain hers will be black.

The plan was easy enough; wait until Maria leaves, sneak out around midnight when you know the compound is going to be silent and asleep, steal a jet and make your way back to New Orleans. What you’d do when you get there is...still a work in progress. Do you confront Seth? Surely he has ties with HYDRA considering breaking into his office caused a load of HYDRA agents to show up. You could question him - beat information out of him - on the whereabouts of their headquarters. Or, you could head straight to Bertha. She has to be behind this; why else would she give you those flowers to give to Natasha? She was stalling. She knew if she kept you late, they could take Natasha away from you.

What you still don’t know is why. You’ll figure it out. For now, you sneak your way around the compound after filling a backpack with any essentials you need, dressing in your grey Crusher suit. Passing by one of Stark’s many offices, you glance through the window to see a couple pairs of Tony’s glasses. Score.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You whisper as you rush through the corridor. You head up the stairs, thinking it’ll be quieter than taking the lift.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. What can I help you with?” The AI speaks out and you grin a little, kind of missing it. As much as you hate Stark, he sure has some insane inventions.

“I need a jet.” You demand, jumping multiple steps at a time until you reach the top floor. It’s a huge room filled with planes, jets, any sort of air transportation the Avengers could possibly need. All you need is F.R.I.D.A.Y. to unlock one for you. 

“Mr Stark advises against-” You grunt in response, interrupting the AI.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. I need a jet, and I will break these glasses right now if I don’t get one.” A shuffling behind you and the sound of metal ripping through the air catches your attention. You let out a sigh, already knowing that sound.

“I can’t let you do that, kiddo.” Steve commands from behind you. You turn around to see Wanda and Clint behind him, all of them suited up. Wanda flinches a little when you look at her, expecting a glare, and you expect yourself to glare too...but you can’t. You just tilt your head and shake your head, disappointed that she’s willing to side with Steve to stop you.

“You’ll have to kill me to stop me from saving her.” You say with certainty, not backing down as you get into a fighting stance. Steve lets out a huff, stepping forward with his shield in his hand. He walks up to you, towering over you with a smirk, suddenly slotting the shield behind his back.

“I meant alone. Why should you be her only knight in shining armour?” Steve teases, walking by you, chuckling at the look of shock on your face. Clint walks by laughing too, nudging you to tell you to follow them. You wait for Wanda though. You wait for her to approach you nervously, hands slotted together in front of her, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Aren’t you scared?” You ask Wanda, knowing she has a history with HYDRA too. It’s why she rarely goes to missions involving them. She takes a step closer to you, a little cautiously, looking up at you with her playful eyes.

“To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.” She quotes, biting her lip when she sees the slight hint of pride in your eyes. “Bertrand Russell.” Wanda whispers cockily before walking past you. That’s how you know she learnt it from you, not the robot. Bertrand fucking Russell. “Are you coming?” You follow her with a chuckle. At least she kept her reading up.

“What’s the plan?” Clint asks when you walk onto a jet, one you haven’t been on before. The door shuts quickly behind you, startling you a little.

“Uh, I just planned to steal a jet. It’s a long ride so I figured I’d come up with a plan then.” You take a seat and strap yourself up, eager to get back to New Orleans.

“Sorry to break it to you but this ride’s going to be short. This jet’s one of the fastest ones we have. ETA is 20 minutes tops.” Steve reveals with a smirk, loving the power behind this ride. He really pulled out the big guns for this and you’re more than grateful for his help. He knows just by the smile you send his way.

“I know who’s behind this. You won’t like it though.” You sigh, fingers tapping on the side of the metal seat nervously. Steve sends a smirk your way, flying the jet out of the compound and holy shit it’s fast.

“Try me.” Steve counters and you give him a nervous grin, ready to reveal the big bad wolf.

“It’s an old lady.” You reveal and hear snorts and laughs all around.

“Y/N, seriously?” Clint asks through chuckles. Even Wanda lets out a giggle, thinking you have to be cracking a joke. Even you struggled to believe it, refusing to see what was right in front of you for weeks. It was so obvious you’re amazed you didn’t see it from the first interaction. She gave you the creeps but you thought that was just her vibe or whatever, especially after Natasha said she was ‘motherly’. You thought you were surely wrong after that.

“There’s history there. I know there is. I just can’t remember it, can’t remember her. But I saw her in a flashback. She-She’s the one who made me kill Rebecca McNeil. She controlled me somehow, but I-I don’t remember those trigger words she used. I thought I was done with this.” They all listen silently, letting you get your words out. Steve knows how hard this is for you, but Wanda understands the most. She gets the nightmares, she’s been through the torture. Sometimes that’s the easy part of it. It’s the years of haunted memories that’s the real torture.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.” Steve reassures you with a comforting hand on your shoulder. Clint nods along and you can see Wanda in the reflection of the window giving you a small smile.

“Thanks, Steve. All of you. Thank you.” Clint comes up from behind you putting you into a weak headlock playfully. You laugh along with him, tapping out on his arm.

“You’re forgetting we’re a team, and one of us is in danger. Never leave a man behind.” Clint exclaims with his arms held out wide.

“Woman.” Wanda corrects him, arms crossed over her chest. She gives him an attitude with a raised brow; it amuses you enough to draw out a chuckle, spinning around to watch the two of them.

“And what a woman she is.” Clint says but doesn’t get further when you trip him up. He catches himself, grabbing the seat to his left. Wanda snorts and you glance at her with a smirk.

“Watch it, you’re married.” You tell him with a playful glare and raised brow. He rolls his eyes, sitting down in the empty seat.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. She’s my best friend.” He claims and you have no real response to him other than rolling your eyes.

“Mhm.” You know they’re best friends, but you don’t like anyone talking about Natasha in that way. Tony is the worst of them all, but the other men in the team aren’t all innocent saints when it comes to sexualising Nat, whether it’s accidental or not.

“ Someone’s possessive, huh?” Clint smirks playfully, raising his eyebrows up and down, teasing you. He notices the slight blush on your cheeks. So does Wanda. It’s hard not to notice when she gets up and moves away to the back, staring out the window.

“Shut up. ETA?”

“15.” Steve answers you, giving you enough time to do what needs to be done before rushing into a mission with no plan. To ensure there are no arguments, no mistakes made on the field, everyone has to be on good terms. That includes you and Wanda.

You take a minute to just...look at her. She’s changed appearance-wise, that’s for sure. The dark brown locks you’ve grown used to have turned brighter. The shade compliments the bright red of magic swirling into a small ball, jumping from finger to finger, looking like a flame combined with her ginger hair behind it. Wanda watches the magic with nonchalance. It used to be hard for her to control her powers. It was still somewhat hard for her when you left, but it seems she has a better grip over them. They’re no longer controlling her and you call tell by the look in her eyes. Her typically wide, innocent eyes are no longer that but confident, strong, determined. The determination grows stronger when her eyes lock onto yours, catching you staring. Sighing, you walk over, placing both hands on the window as you stretch, staring at the clouds.

“You stopped calling.” Your voice comes out raspier than you expect it to. It startles you, making you clear your throat loudly.

“So did you.” Wanda’s states, voice calm and clear, accent fading. You hate that. You loved her accent; it’s part of her identity, her country. Even her outfit has changed, wearing a tight red corset pushing her chest up.

“Because you stopped sending me that cute face of yours.” You tease with a smirk, glancing at her for a brief second before keeping your gaze locked on the clouds.

“Thought you had a cuter face to look at all day.” Her words are playful but her tone isn’t. You almost scoff at the audacity. She has no right being jealous, annoyed, angry when she’s the one who lied. But it’s not the time or place to argue about this. You have to focus on Natasha. You push that anger back, deciding you need to make things civil with her for now and that’s all.

“So that gives you reason to just cut me off? I get that you have Vision now, but-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wanda cuts you off with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over her chest. You clench your jaw in annoyance but take a deep breath to keep yourself calm.

“It means he came back and all of sudden he has all of your attention.” Letting out an empty laugh, you drop your arms to your side, hands turning into tight fists. The audacity of her to lie to you in some fucked up way to keep you to herself, just for her to run off to Vision and discard you like that. Your blood boils just thinking about how he was hovering over her protectively when you were arguing outside.

“Nothing’s going on between-” Wanda starts, trying to reason with you but you’re too angry at her. You need answers and it can’t wait.

“How long have you known?” Your body twists to face her quickly, voice steady but demanding. She knows she can’t deflect when you stare her down with no comfort in your eyes. It breaks her heart seeing that look directed at her, so she frowns, staring at her feet as she reveals the truth.

“A few weeks after Sokovia.” She whispers, wrapping her arms around herself. You scoff in disbelief, running a hand through your hair.

“Wow. Months, Wanda. Are you fucking kidding me?” You spit out harshly, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t let her in your head to calm you down, don’t let her anywhere near you as you take a step back away from her. The thought of being vulnerable with her...it scares you.

“I am so sorry, you have to believe-” Wanda pleads, looking up at you with wet eyes but you have almost no sympathy for her at this point, too angry to think clearly, to feel clearly.

“I don’t have to do anything. Are you sorry I found out or sorry-” Wanda cuts you off with tears streaming down her face with no resistance. Her arms drop to her side frustratedly. She can’t take this closed off version of you, not when she’s so dependent on your openness, dependent on the comfort and familiarity you usually provide for her.

“I’m sorry I kept it from you and let you keep hurting for so long just so I wouldn’t be hurting.” She reveals without even knowing the depth of the words she just said. You’re taken aback by that, understanding where she could have been coming from. It was impulsive. Selfish, impulsive actions...of someone terrified of getting what’s left of their heart broken again. “I know it doesn't justify what I have done, but I...I couldn’t lose you to her. To anyone. Not after losing my parents, my country, my...Pietro. You’re all I have, Y/N. The thought of you spending your mornings with her instead of me, cuddling up to her during movie nights instead of me, being there for her instead-” She rants, justifying her actions, but while you understand, you can only take so much. It doesn’t make it okay, none of this is okay.

“Wanda, I can be there for more than a person at a time. That’s what friendship is.” You say in a monotone voice, finding her last statement ridiculous. You understand the pain of watching someone you want with someone else, but this intense possessiveness isn’t healthy and it’s not fair to you. It’s not fair that Wanda thinks that’s a strong enough reason to let your heart shatter every morning when you watched Bruce kiss Natasha with his hands on her hips. You could have had her. You could have had her, tasted her lips, spent all this time with her in your arms before it was-before you were too late. Maybe this never would have happened if Wanda had told you...maybe you never would have used and hurt Maria, maybe she would have never sent you here with Natasha, maybe she would be okay and alive and happy with you if Wanda had just told you the truth.

“We’re not just friends, Y/N.” Wanda’s voice wavers, lips quivering as you look at her with an emotionless look in your eyes.

“We have to be.” You state, turning around to dig in your backpack. You don’t even need anything, you just want distance from her, you just want this conversation to end. The heat burning up inside of you is bubbling, waiting to explode; you’d rather let it erupt on HYDRA agents and Bertha. You’re already expecting her to be behind this.

“Why? Because of her?” Wanda scoffs angrily but steps back with a gulp when you spin on your heels, glaring at her with a clenched jaw.

“Because I’ll end up breaking you just like I’ve broken Maria, putting you in danger just like I’ve done to Nat.” You yell out, forgetting the boys are behind you. It’s this moment you stop avoiding the truth; you’re the problem, not them. Sighing when you see the terrified expression on Wanda’s face, you frown, annoyed at yourself for your lack of control. You step towards her, calming your tone down. “Because you deserve better than me, because you’re sweet and kind and have your whole life ahead of you. And you deserve a love that is so pure, the love you see in your sit-coms, the love people write books about, the love people kill and die for. Not me.” Turning your head from her doesn’t work. Wanda takes a risk as she steps closer to you, hand gentle as it brushes over your cheek and turns your head back to her. Looking down into her eyes, you let your harsh walls down for just a second and it’s enough for her. It’s comforting to now know at least the cinnamon hasn’t faded away. She’s still Wanda, your Red. What you’ve truly been afraid of is the change. Everything’s going to change.

“But you are that love for me. Can’t you see what you have meant to me all this time?” She whispers with a hopeful smile, eyes still teary, glowing, wide and filled with nothing but adoration for you. Your heart pounds faster as her nose brushes against yours, automatically making your breath hitch in your throat. You blame the rapid pace of your heart on the altitude as Steve’s voice breaks the two of you apart.

“2 minutes. Positions.” He clears his throat awkwardly, lifting his shield from the floor. Wanda’s arms hug herself again defensively, but her eyes don’t leave yours, still begging for forgiveness, for you to understand, for something.

“Can we put this on hold?” You sigh as she frowns again, eyes tearing up. It’s heartbreaking how similar the expression is to that morning in her room when you said goodbye to her. When Natasha walked in, interrupting her before she could kiss you. Wanda wanted to kiss you first, wanted to be the one on your mind hoping it would be enough to make you need her more than Natasha. “Red, you know I love you, I care about you with all my heart. But I need to know I can trust you to put your feelings aside right now and focus on our objective; saving Natasha. Can you do that?” Your voice is as clear as day, needing her to understand what you need from her. Save Natasha. No matter what.

“Of course I can. You promise we will finish our talk after?” She says hopefully, holding onto your hand as Clint slowly lands the jet. He comes to stand next to Wanda, Steve by your side waiting for your signal to open the door.

“Promise.” You’ve been making a lot of promises lately, you just hope this is one you’ll be able to keep.

Chapter Text

Although your entrance to the city wasn’t so subtle, it was easy to sneak around running through one backyard to another until you recognised your own. Or, what was your own. You’re scared to blink as you freeze in your place, already seeing flashes of Natasha laughing as she watches you trim the lawn and kick your feet as dead grass sticks to them. If you look close enough, narrow your eyes to blur your vision, you can see Natasha’s figure moving around the house, making a cup of coffee. Clenching your jaw as Steve’s hand softly lands on your shoulder, you shrug his touch away and head towards the backyard next door. The McNeils.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. Is he home?” You whisper, grunting softly as you jump over the fence. Instinctively, you reach behind you like you usually do to help Nat, but Wanda floats above you, wisps of red magic carrying her over. Subtle.

“I’m good.” She whispers with a teasing smirk as she strolls past you. Chivalry is dead, huh? Of course it is when suddenly she wants to help herself. Yes, you’re being unfair, and maybe a little salty, but you used to help Wanda with literally everything. She used to depend on you, look up to you in a way, leeching off of your knowledge and years of experience. Now? She has this newfound confidence in her strut, in her aura. Maybe you’d be prouder if it was you that helped her gain this confidence. Not him.

“I can’t be chiv-chiver? What the fuck is the verb for chivalry?” You frown, forgetting for a second. In your defence, your mind is fogged to the max, flashes of memories you didn’t even know you had popping up every now and then. It’s hard not to be overwhelmed.

“Chivalrous. You know English is my second language, right?” Wanda lets out a huff with a cocked brow and a tilted head. Your eyes glance behind her to see Clint chuckling as he pulls out an arrow, carefully spinning around to scan your surroundings. You know this neighbourhood; it’ll be eerily silent as people rest for the night. While the city does come alive at night, the streets are empty by 4am.

“Whatever.” You reply to Wanda, turning your back to her as you walk towards the house. Having no energy to argue with her over petty shit, you try to focus on the mission at hand. F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to be taking her damn time to scan the house.

“And it’s an adjective.” Wanda adds behind you, making you spin on your heels in annoyance. Perhaps you can spare a little energy for this.

“When the fuck did you become a know-it-all?” You argue with a glare. Wanda defensively crosses her arms over her chest giving you a glare of her own, holding her ground.

“When you shoved that stick up your ass.” She sneers and you scoff, taking a step forward as she does the same. As your hand turns into a tight fist she lifts hers, red illuminating her fingers threateningly, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. speaks up before either of you can cross the line.

“All clear, Miss Y/L/N. He’s alone.” The two of you keep your glares trained on each other, but Wanda breaks away first, glancing towards the house. Your house that you shared with Natasha. Oh. Of course she’ll be tense around here.

“Thanks.” You sigh, turning around to see Steve standing awkwardly as he waits for you and Wanda to calm down. Clint’s already climbed up into the massive tree in their garden, an arrow pointed at the window on the second floor. “He’s alone. Let’s go.” You break in through the backdoor, sneaking your way around remembering where his bedroom is from the blueprint weeks ago. Wanda and Steve’s footsteps are light behind you, carefully following you. The door creaks a little when you push it open but his still figure on the bed doesn’t wake. Slowly making your way towards him, you immediately growl angrily just by looking at his face, his mouth wide open as he snores and drools. Why the fuck does he get to sleep while you spent the night in jail? You know he’s involved because of the amount of HYDRA agents in his office building. “Wake up, asshole.” You smack his cheek until his eyes flutter open, choking on his saliva when he sees you.

“Huh? He-Hey, what the fuck?! Get-” His eyes open wide as he sees you above him staring down with a glare that could kill.

“Shut your fucking mouth. Where the fuck is she?” You grunt as you grab onto his shirt, pulling him up so you can look into his eyes; you want him to see the pain he caused you, see the anger fuelling you.

“Who?! How’d you get out?!” He yells out, trying to push you off but you’re stronger than him. “Who the-Woah, is that Captain America?” His body stops writhing to get away when he glances around and sees Steve standing with his shield in front of his body. Of course he recognises him but not you in your outfit. Sure, you haven’t been on many big missions with the team, but you have been in a couple where you’ve been photographed. It hurts to not get recognition, not get that redemption you’ve been working on acknowledged.

“I’d listen to her if I were you.” Steve says with a smirk as Seth looks back to you with a terrified look in his eyes.

“Where is she? Where’s Natasha?” You growl, demanding an answer. His brows come together in confusion before realising you’re talking about your wife. Well, your fake wife. But it was real to you. Part of it was.

“Natalie? I don’t fucking know! I just helped them escape!” He reveals when you grip tighter, half his body off the bed at this point. You freeze at the new information, pure rage coursing through your body. Without a second thought, your first lands on his cheek, throwing his head to the side. He lets out a groan at the pain and before you can knock him out cold, Steve’s hand grips your fist, pulling you back. He backs you against the wall as you keep fighting to push forward, eyes trained on the cut on Seth’s cheek. He helped them take her from you. He did this.

“Y/N, stop! Stop! This won’t fix anything.” Steve reasons with you, waiting for you to calm down. You take a deep breath when your eyes catch his. The glare doesn’t leave your expression and at this point Steve knows it’ll be a permanent look until you get Natasha back. Wanda takes his place instead, her hand holding yours hesitantly as Steve walks towards Seth with his arms crossed over his chest. “You work for HYDRA?” His presence always commands an answer and Seth is terrified of you at this point. It’s obvious he’s trying to avoid your gaze, looking anywhere but at you.

“I-Yeah? Never wanted to though. My mom made me. Made me marry that brainless bimbo too. Thanks for taking her out, by the way.” He addresses you, feeling brave enough to smirk your way. Your blood boils as you step forward, growling. Wanda’s hands squeezes yours and you look down realising she’s using her powers to keep you from moving. She gives you an apologetic look, and while you understand why she has to use her powers against you, a part of you still breaks a little.

“Stay back.” Steve tells you off as he notices the smirk falling from Seth’s lips, replaced with wide, terrified eyes. “Who’s your mother?” He asks and Seth rolls his eyes, looking at you again.

“You’re really shit at this undercover stuff. How don’t you know?” Wanda can’t stop you this time as you push her back with enough force to make her stumble. Steve’s arm trying to push you back only helps you grip it, flipping him over. With nothing between you and Seth, your hands grip his shirt with a growl.

“I’ll crush your fucking skull, you-” You won’t do it, but he thinks you will as he whimpers, not even letting you finish your threat.

“Bertha! It’s Bertha! Jesus Christ, let go of me. This is silk.” He reveals, his words making you stumble back and let go of his shirt. Steve glares at you as he stands up, shield in his hand ready to defend himself from your attacks. But you only step back, surprised by the information.

“What?” You whisper in shock. You knew she was involved, but you’re still surprised that you were right. She’s an old lady. She uses a damn cane. It doesn’t add up, none of this is making sense.

“Who’s-” Wanda begins asking but you cut her off with a frustrated groan.

“Bertha. I fucking knew she was involved.” You sigh, stepping towards Seth again but you don’t need to physically threaten him anymore. He’s terrified enough to reveal everything to you.

“We changed our surnames when she married me off. I took Rebecca’s, and mom finally took dad’s, even though they never had a chance to get married. Her excuse was sentiment. Ridiculous if you ask me.” 

“So...what’s your actual surname?” Wanda asks, crossing her arms over her chest. Seth sighs before looking up at you with a gulp.

“Meyer.”

The amount of air around you is next to nothing by the time you’re stumbling out the backdoor. The brick your hands are gripping almost crack as you tighten your hold, groaning as you drop to the ground at the memories flooding your mind. The nightmare you had a couple weeks ago - the bone-cracking experiment - is front and centre, fucking spotlights and all, highlighted in your mind and you can’t get it out. Dr Meyer. She did this to you. She gave you the scars on your body, she made them break you over and over again, she’s the one behind all this.

You don’t even get to have a moment to yourself to think before hands are firmly placed on your shoulder. It forces you to open your eyes and you’re relieved to find Clint’s concerned gaze.

“You okay, bud?” He reminds you of Nat and you can’t help wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “Woah. Hey, it’ll be okay. She’s still fighting. We’ll get her back.” He reassures you with a light chuckle, hugging you back. Letting a tear drop for a moment, you take in a shaky breath and pull away from him. He wipes a tear on your cheek with a playful smile and you roll your eyes at him, shoving him slightly.

“We’ll get her back.” You say in a steadier voice, already making your way out. Fuck alleyways; she knows you’re coming and there’s barely anyone on the streets. There’s no time to waste.

“You didn’t have to knock him out, Y/N.” Steve scolds you as he comes up beside you, marching as fast as you are. Of course he wouldn’t understand. Have trust in the system, he’d say. The police would go after you, not Seth. Knocking him out was the only option you had, and you’d hope this wouldn’t take too long otherwise he’ll only bring more problems your way.

“Dr Meyer was...she’s a HYDRA scientist. Doctor. Whatever you want to call it, I call it torture and experimentation and sick. Just sick.” You reveal, breathing heavily mainly from the tightening in your chest and the pounding in your head. The pace you’re walking at turns into a jog as you turn the corner.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Steve stops you in your tracks, holding onto your shoulder. He can see the tears pooling in your eyes threatening to stream down and drop onto the concrete. Get your shit together.

“Of course you didn’t know, Steve, I still don’t fucking know. My whole memory of her has been wiped.” You cry out, a shaking hand running through your hair. You lean down to catch your breath, closing your eyes tight with your hands resting on your knees. You got this. You’re okay. Nat’s okay, she’s a fighter. You can feel it, you know she’s still out there.

“Bud, I think you should let us handle-” Clint hesitates, seeing how distressed you look, but you snap up and clear your throat, ready to give out instructions.

“You two go round the back. Wanda. With me.” Clint sighs, tapping Steve on the arm as a gesture telling him to let it go. The two of them run ahead of you, turning into an alleyway. You start walking, knowing Wanda can’t really jog as fast as you can. The two of you walk in silence, Wanda looking around imagining the flashing lights and music, the people and the food you talked to her about. It’s silent, dead. Maybe you were right in saying you were going to ruin their happiness. Destruction is all you bring. “Did you know? About Meyer?” You break the silence, refusing to look at Wanda. With eyes trained at the ground, you gulp loudly, nervously, scared that perhaps she did know. You let her in and she lied, so what else has she lied about?

“I-No. I can only see what you think about.” Wanda stutters in shock, but she can only blame herself for your distrust. She knows she has to earn your trust back, but it clearly hurts her every single time you doubt her or accuse her. You can see it in her eyes. “You know I would have told you, right? If I knew? I wouldn’t let you sit there not knowing-”

“But you did.” You specify before she can finish with her excuses.

“That’s different.” Wanda quietly defends herself but it’s clear that even she doesn’t believe her own words.

“Pain is pain. It doesn’t make a difference.” She stays silent for the next minute until you arrive at the flower shop. You stick to the wall, avoiding the windows, listening for anything. “We’re here.” You whisper and Wanda sighs, pulling you to the side. She looks up at you with her hands holding your wrists gently, just to keep you close as she tries to be vulnerable with you. You let yourself be in the moment just for a couple seconds, glancing down to really look at her. Hours...days...weeks have been spent just looking at Wanda, memorising her features. How else would you know the moment she’s upset by anything? How else would you know the exact moment she needs a hug, or for you to hold her hand? You know what makes her happy just because you’ve seen her smile widely, memorising the reason for every twitch of her lips. And now...now you’re rethinking every little moment with her. What was a lie, and what was the truth?

“Look, Y/N...I know saying sorry again will not fix anything. I just want you to know I’ll help you save her. No matter what.” She reassures you with a soft smile and you give one back, letting out a sigh to calm yourself.

“Thank you, Wanda.” With a final deep breath in, you pull away from her and sneak your way to the door. Pushing it open slowly, you reach up when the bell rings and tug on it, breaking it off.

“There was no need for that aggression, child.” A voice speaks out, distorted, echoing around the shop. Wanda’s magic automatically makes an appearance, lighting up the dark room. You know it’s Bertha’s voice, but it’s different.

“German?” Wanda whispers, brows scrunched together. That’s what it is. She must have been masking her accent, playing her American role of ‘Nanny’ perfectly. Well, clearly not perfect since you figured it out.

“Where is she?” You grunt, crushing the metal bell in your hand. Glancing around, body already in a fighting stance, you see flowers on the ground, wooden tables broken. There was clearly a fight in here. It gives you hope that maybe Natasha’s the one who did this. She’s a fighter.

“She put up a fight. I can understand why you love her.” Bertha speaks out again, chuckling this time. You throw the broken bell onto the ground in frustration, yelling out into the darkness.

“Where is she?!” Nothing but rage running through your veins, you glance around still seeing nothing, but you can hear her voice echoing from everywhere, bouncing off the walls.

“If I had not made you forget, you would remember that I was good to you, child. I made you the perfect soldier. Flawless, a model for the rest to come. You were, and still are my best creation... unmatched. And believe me, I tried-” You groan, hating this soliloquy bullshit. You can’t remember any of this, can’t remember what she’s done to you apart from the torture in your nightmare. Her going down this nostalgic road isn’t getting you anywhere closer to finding Nat.

“Stop stalling, where is Natasha?!” You yell, lighting up the strips in your suit. It doesn’t illuminate the whole room, but you can walk around, seeing everything you step closer to.

“Silence!” Bertha yells and the scolding tone makes you cower just like it did when you argued with her about mythology. All you can gather from that is she must have been an influential figure in your life, so much so that she’s conditioned this fear inside you. Wanda moves parallel to you, using her magic to light up areas in the shop to find clues. “As I was saying...I tried. But none were as beautiful as you. Your beauty...Your beauty was something I weaponised.” You freeze as you remember her words outside her shop. Beauty is nothing if you cannot weaponise it. “Men and women fell at your feet, some letting you, begging you to crush their heads. You are my soldier. My Crusher.” Her words send shivers down your spine; the one thing you can never escape is your past. The sins of your past have finally caught up to you, and perhaps it is time to pay. But you’re not going down without bringing her down with you. She has to pay for what she’s turned you into.

“My fight has been over for years.” Your voice stays steady until her next words.

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

“Plato.” Wanda whispers behind you and you don’t have time to turn to her in surprise at her knowledge. The lights start flickering above, only enough for you to see the door ahead slam open. The shop floods with HYDRA soldiers in full uniform, padded up with protection, armed and dangerous.

“Shit.” You groan, running back and grabbing Wanda with you; you hide behind a wooden table but you know there’s no use for that. The bullets will rip right through. You hold onto Wanda in your arms knowing the bullets might puncture your skin but it’ll heal. You can’t die. You know you can’t, you’ve tried; you always heal. At least Wanda will be okay. She’ll have enough time to escape through the door or window when the HYDRA agents need to reload their weapons. You close your eyes and wait for the bullets, holding Wanda in your arms tightly. But the piercing pain never comes.

“We’re okay.” Wanda whispers, looking up into your eyes, impossibly close to you. Her nose brushes against yours and as much as you want to lean in, you pull away and focus. Her red magic covers the two of you in a bubble as the agents come closer, shooting continuously. Wanda winces a little, just enough for you to notice.

“Hey, don’t drain yourself. It’s okay, I can take the bullets. Just get out of here, I’ll-” You burst into excuses, hundreds of reasons to make her drop the shield she’s covering the two of you with. With the wincing, her scrunched brows, and the slight frown on her face, it’s clear she’s in pain.

“I’m fine.” She pants out and you frown at her with narrowed eyes. She’s always been stubborn, and you usually give in. But this is different. This is life or death, and you can’t die but she can. The thought of Natasha dying because of you was one thing, but Wanda? You don’t even want to think about that possibility.

“That’s not a plan, Wanda.” She doesn’t listen to your words, just winces again; the bubble shrinks a little as she strains to keep it strong with all the bullets threatening to rip through her magic.

“I see...I’ll have to use my imagination if you refuse to fight.” Bertha speaks out once again with a deep chuckle. Your fist clenches just at the sound of her voice, but it only echoes in your head. “ Haus.” Fuck. No, no, not now, not like this.

“No! Wanda, let me out! Wanda, please!” You yell, beg, plead with wide eyes as you hold onto her arms. You hate this feeling and you’re not even sure if the tightness in your chest is your fear or an effect of the mind-controlling.

“I can’t! You’ll get hurt!” Wanda stubbornly argues, groaning a little as the bubble shrinks again.

“Stern.” You let out a groan of your own, trying to push yourself away from her but the space is too small. Her body suddenly feels hot against yours as the beating in your heart speeds up.

“ You’ll get hurt if you don’t let me get out of here!” You urge, letting out a whimper as you drop your hands from her arms, body weakening by the second as you lose control over your muscles.

“Arzt.” Tears pool in your eyes, drops splattering on the floor as you get on your hands and knees, trying to stand up and break the bubble. But it’s no use; your hands give out easily, face cracking against the ground.

“I don’t understand, Y/N.” Wanda cries out worriedly, wanting to reach out to you but her hands need to keep her magic radiating around the two of you.

“Wald.” You can already hear the pounding of Bertha’s cane on the ground. The sound echoes in your head and you can’t hear the bullets anymore. You can’t hear the HYDRA agents, can’t hear the glass cracking under their boots.

“Fuck! I-I can’t-” You cry out, almost sobbing as you try to punch through Wanda’s tough barrier of red. Your fist does no damage to her magic but you can’t stop, you have to keep trying, you need to get away from her. Panic fills your chest at the realisation that she won’t let you go. She can’t understand what’s happening to you right now and you can barely speak, can’t form the words to explain.

“Y/N! What’s happening? Just let me in, please, let me help.” Wanda begs, dropping the barrier finally. Your fist falls through the open space, making you land weakly on your face again. Cheek scraping the ground, skin cut by the broken glass, you try to pull yourself away from her but she holds onto you.

“No!” You protest, voice distorted, croaky as your voice cracks. You don’t want to let her in either. You don’t want her to see the emptiness, the emotionlessness in your head when Bertha takes over.

“Zweifel.” Bertha’s cane pounds louder, ringing in your ears. You don’t hear the soldiers stop their ruthless shooting as Bertha commands them to. Wanda does though, looking at them with a confused expression before a scream from you catches her attention again.

“Please. Please, Y/N.” You flip over, crawling back weakly until you’re sitting against the wall. Wanda rushes to follow, on her knees between your legs, holding your face in her hands. They’re warm, soft, but not enough to overpower the mind control. She can’t stand seeing you in pain and not being able to do anything about it. Her eyes are wide, begging you to let her into your mind to help you. But you can’t.

“Wanda…I’m so-so sorry.” You beg for forgiveness before you even do anything, tears streaming down your face. It’s too late, and she won’t ever let you go.

“Reise.” You have to comply. “Crusher!” Your eyes staring into hers turn from ones filled with anguish to...nothing. She can’t see anything in your eyes and it scares her. It terrifies her so much so that her hands cut through the air at how fast she retracts them from your cheeks. Bertha...Bertha’s waiting for a response from you, but...but it’s Wanda. She can’t see anything in your eyes, but you can see everything in hers. It’s taking all of your strength to stay on the ground, fingers pressing so hard against the ground that it cracks under the pressure.

“I-I can’t-” You whisper in a strained voice, clenching your jaw to keep in your screams at the internal battle going on in your mind. You’ve been through this. You’ve been through hours, days, weeks of deep mental training to reverse the deep brainwashing. But this is different, this feels stronger, more powerful.

“Comply, soldier! Kill her!” Her harsh tone rings in your ears like she’s standing right next to you. With a deep, angry frown at the lack of control over your body, you stumble to your feet. Internally, you’re whimpering, crying out, banging against the cage Bertha has trapped your mind in. Wanda doesn’t fight back. She doesn’t move away as she stands with an understanding, sad smile. She finally understands what’s happening.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She whispers reassuringly as you step closer to her, boots crunching the glass. Your eyes show nothing, but your free-falling tears say everything. With her magic, she pushes your incoming fists away from striking her face, straining as you keep attacking her with no mercy. But it’s not enough. She drained herself too much trying to keep you safe from the bullets.

“N-No, no. Run!” You cry out as your body leans down and swipes at her feet. Wanda falls to her back with a loud whine at the pain of the glass piercing her skin. Giving her no time to recover, you fall on top of her, fist hanging in the air as you stare down at her with wide eyes. Her eyes flutter open and closed, looking up at you with...with love. “Agh!” You scream in agony, conflict, guilt as you punch the ground next to her face. Every time you divert a hit, it feels like you’re ripping yourself apart, trying to take over your body. Wanda’s shaking hands reach up to gently hold your cheek, wiping the tears away as your breathing turns rapid, eyes wide and frantic staring into hers with fear. Fear of what you’ll do to her if you can’t break free.

“Crush her!” Bertha yells into your mind and your hands automatically hold onto the sides of her head like you’ve done hundreds of times.

“Please. Please!” You cry out, sobbing as your hands tighten second by second. Wanda gasps in pain, her hand gripping onto your wrist. Her eyes widen, but the fear suddenly disappears from her bright eyes as she looks into yours. Tears slip down the sides of her face, wetting your bloodied hands.

“I’m-I’m sorry. It’s okay, this isn’t you. This,” She whispers, gasping at the tightening of your hands. “Is...you.” Her hands leave your wrist to hold onto the sides of your head, mirroring your position. And...And all you see is Wanda. Your surroundings slowly change, but you’re not paying much attention to that. The only thing you want to look at is the deep green in her eyes, freely falling through them. Wanda pulls back as she lets out a loud laugh, her head thrown back exposing her pale neck.

“It’s true! Every single time he came into my room, I’d trip him up and he fell for it over and over again. I mean, I had to find some kind of fun in there, you know? Something to occupy my mind, to...to keep it all light.” You laugh along with her, but you keep your eyes trained on her. Lately you’ve been finding it hard to look away from Wanda. There’s just something about her that radiates...purity. Her energy is unmatched and you want to know more, especially after hearing her laugh, seeing her lips pull into a wide smile she can’t contain. The sadness in her eyes will be there for a while, that much you know. But telling her that old story took some of her sadness away and you have hundreds more to tell.

Steve sent you to Wanda’s room, urging you to try to talk to her. She’s isolated herself apart from coming out for food when her stomach can’t handle it anymore. Of course Steve was concerned about her, still having some doubts since Sokovia was only a month ago. But you feel like you already know her just from the few interactions you’ve had with her. Hell, you know her just from catching eyes with her as you walk past her in the hallways. That’s what she communicates with: her hopeful eyes.

“For an organisation with the goal of global destruction, surely you would think they would hire competent soldiers.” She says amusedly, playing with her hands in her lap. The room is silent since she paused the old school show that was playing on her TV the moment you walked in. She either didn’t want to miss a second of it, or didn’t want to miss a second of you.

“I’m glad you can laugh about it.” You admire her from your spot on her bed. Her lips tug into a small smile, pink in the cheeks as she looks down at her hands in her lap.

“I have not laughed like that since…” Wanda whispers, clearing her throat as the tears almost swell up again. She still finds it hard to say his name and putting her through pain is the last thing you want to do. In a panic, you quickly turn, sitting with your legs crossed to mimic her position. She looks at you with her head tilted curiously when you clear your throat. You’ve noticed that about her; the head tilt is her signature move. It’s cute.

“I-I know how hard it's been for you. I actually...kind of admire you. For your strength. Your courage to...to still be here while he isn’t.” You speak cautiously, quietly, communicating your admiration and respect for her, your hope and faith in her to really become an Avenger. To become a hero and redeem herself.

“I’m not courageous. I’m just...tired.” Wanda sighs, turning her head away from you and back to the screen paused on the black and white sitcom. You always hear the laughter effects when you walk by her room so you can already tell it must be her favourite thing to watch. Something comforting, something that reminds her of home. You don’t really have anything to remind you of home, you barely had a home. Sometimes you’re not even comfortable staying here, weren’t comfortable staying in your S.H.I.E.L.D. funded apartment.

“Well, good thing you’re here then. Tony’s really gone all out with luxury here. The beds are insanely soft, sometimes too soft. I have to sleep on-” You widen your eyes playfully, showing how excited you are about the beds, but while being held captive you didn’t have any comfort. Sometimes you feel like you don’t deserve that luxury.

“The floor. I do that too.” Wanda interrupts, a little excitedly with wide eyes. She can talk to you about things she can’t really talk to with anyone else, not anyone that would understand anyway.

“When the body’s grown used to something, it’s hard to break free from it.” You think aloud, pursing your lips as you sift through quotes in your mind. You’ve read plenty on this topic, on psychology, on trauma and PTSD. Mainly to try to understand yourself, but it’ll come in handy to help Wanda understand herself too. You want to help her. You really want to help her because who else will? Tony? The man that sold the weapons that killed her family? Steve? The old-fashioned war veteran who can’t even sit next to her without looking awkward? Bruce and Natasha are far too involved in their daily arguments to give Wanda a second look when she walks by them in the hallway, and Clint’s off with his family most of the time. You’re all that’s left, all she has. Apart from herself. And you know from experience that it’s insanely lonely and can drive someone crazy if they only rely on themselves to recover from a traumatic experience. Wanda needs someone, just like you did.

“I-I don’t think I belong here. They-HYDRA-they put something in me. A darkness I have little control over.” Wanda’s lips quiver as she whispers in a shaky tone, but she looks into your eyes, trusting you, hoping you can offer some words of advice. Your heart aches at the broken look in her eyes and you give her a smile, leaning forward a little as your knees rest against each other. Your hand twitches, wanting to hold hers, to comfort her. But you keep them steady in your lap, not wanting to cross any lines.

“Plato said ‘it is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.’” You quote with a grin.

“Plato?” Wanda asks confusedly, eyes narrowed a little as she thinks to where she’s heard that name before. You can’t help chuckling a little at her expression to which she blushes lightly, turning her head bashfully.

“Philosopher. When I lack control, or feel like I’m spiralling, I read. I turn to philosophy for answers, despite the fact that philosophy tends to bring up more questions.” You laugh at the end, knowing there’s somewhat of an irony behind it. But nevertheless, you love it. You love reading a theory and having a hundred questions about it. It gives your mind something to think about, something to be excited about. Seeking answers, having that curiosity for knowledge is one of the greatest gifts anyone could have.

“Philosophy. Will you...teach me?” Wanda hesitates to ask but you grin widely at her question. She’s seeking answers, has a curious mind, the best kind of mind. After everything she’s been through, she still seems eager. The good thing about more questions is wanting to know the answers. You want to give her reasons to live when she already has a hundred to die.

“Tell you what. I promise I’ll teach you everything I know, and you promise to have lunch with me every Wednesday.” You bargain with playfully narrowed eyes. Wanda grins widely, matching yours as she nods quickly. She adjusts her position to sit facing the screen, legs still crossed together on the bed. She hasn’t asked you to leave and you take that as an invitation to stay; she unpauses the show after you turn to sit next to her, eyes on the screen. It only takes a couple of seconds before she leans over hesitantly, but decides she can trust you. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” Wanda rests her head on your shoulder and she’s warm against your side, her hand reaching over to brush against yours, letting you tangle your fingers together, and she just...you just fit.

“Agh!” You let out a croaky, painful scream when your vision blurs, changing to see Wanda’s glossy eyes opening, looking up at you with a proud smile. She knows you can do this, she already knows you’re fighting and she’s proud of you for being able to fight it, even if it’s for a brief moment.

“She-She doesn’t control you.” Wanda gasps out, keeping her eyes open as your tears drop down to mix with hers. This-This isn’t you. It’s Bertha. You can’t let Bertha take away the person you...the person you could call your soulmate. Whether it’s romantic or not doesn't matter; it’s Wanda.

“I-I can’t-” You break out into a sob as you fight the tightening hands around her head. She frowns deeply, pouting almost as she sees the pain in your eyes, the internal battle. But she understands. She knows how hard it is, how impossible it can be for the body to break free from what it’s grown used to. You taught her that.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Y/N...I lo-” Wanda gasps out, but before she can finish you let out an agonisingly loud scream as you tear yourself apart from the inside, fighting the control in your mind.

“Agh!” Your voice breaks as flashes of your memories blur your vision. This isn’t you. Bertha doesn’t belong in your mind, only you do. You have control, you’ve always had the control. With a final scream, you finally push Bertha out of your head, gaining control over your body. You drop down on top of Wanda with a groan, breathing heavily, sobbing freely from how drained you feel. “Wanda…” Your voice cracks, but you cry out at the sudden pain in your back. You turn to see the HYDRA agents standing with their guns, aiming at you. With a growl, you push Wanda back behind the table, stumbling to your feet. She doesn’t move, she can’t really move as her head throbs in pain.

“You were given orders.” An agent speaks out, but you step forward with a deep glare on your features. One shoots at you and it rips through your skin but you don’t feel it. You have control, and you know it’ll heal. They watch in horror as you keep walking with each bullet ripping through you and you’re thankful Wanda’s not paying attention when you punch a hole through an agent’s chest in pure rage. He drops to the ground and you grip onto another’s arm when he tries to flee. You manoeuvre your way through them, deflecting every hit with ease, cracking their skulls together, kicking their ribs over and over again like they’ve done to you for years. All you see is red as you break them apart. It’s red, and black, and the green logo is imprinted in your mind. You only stop when you hear shuffling behind you, spinning around on your boots with your fists up, ready to attack. But amongst the red, there’s a bright green forest, and you can’t help wanting to walk through it. Wanda steps closer to you cautiously, her hands out in front of her.

“Hey...it’s okay.” She reassures you, sighing in relief as the defensive expression drops when your face scrunches up in guilt as tears rush down your cheeks. You bury your face in her neck, sobbing as she wraps her arms around you. You can feel the back of her head, feel the wet blood that you’ve-you’ve spilt. 

“I-I’m so sorry. Fuck, I-” You apologise, pushing away from her, afraid of what you could do to her. For all you know, Bertha could try again. You can’t hear her now, can’t even hear the cane, but you know she’s waiting. She has to be waiting for the right moment to strike again.

“Hey, don’t do that. Please, don’t do that. The only person to blame is her.” Wanda grabs your face between her hands, pulling you close, pressing her nose against yours and letting you breathe her in. She always communicates with her eyes, and she’s trying to tell you, trying to beg you to understand that this isn’t your fault. But it feels like it is. Maybe it’s best for you to just...leave. You joined the Avengers after Sokovia thinking you were going to save lives. And here you are, putting everyone in danger, putting the people you love in danger.

“I-We don’t have much time.” You sigh, diverting the conversation away as you clear your throat, stepping back from Wanda. Her expression drops in disappointment, missing being this close to you, being able to feel you against her, so close she can see the specs in your eyes. But all you can focus on is the blood on your hands from her back; when you threw her on the ground she whined from the broken glass and it was like you felt that pain too.

“Let’s go.” Wanda nods in agreement, knowing the guilt is a battle you have to fight on your own. She gives you a smile, trying to be as reassuring as she can. She hasn’t seen you like this. You’ve been absolutely filled with guilt for the last few days and everything you do keeps adding to the pile; Wanda fears it might get too high and topple over. Wanda follows you carefully as you push through the door, finding a pathway down rusty metal stairs.

“Oh, fuck my life.” You groan when you reach a stop downstairs, seeing two pathways splitting down the middle. Taking a deep breath, you look around trying to assess the situation. You can’t leave Wanda and you already know that’s what she’s going to suggest.

“We have to split up.” You sigh in response.

“Said every person in every movie before something bad happened.” There’s almost no lighting down here apart from a couple of bars of hanging lights. The floor’s wet and cracked in some spots, and all you can see when you look down the corridor is pipes and pipes and pipes. You can’t even hear anything, even with your Super-hearing.

“I can take care of myself, and so can you. We have to cover more ground.” Wanda reasons with you, flaring her magic, throwing a well-crafted ball between her hands for extra measure. She raises her brow at you as you narrow your eyes at her. The two of you have a staredown and she refuses to back down. All you can do is sigh and nod your head begrudgingly. She won’t listen to you, and she makes a good point. More ground covered is always good, right?

“Fine, but I don’t like this.” You complain with a quick run of your hand through your hair. Wanda rolls her eyes at you playfully, already moving to the pathway to the left, walking backwards as she smiles at you.

“I’ll meet you outside. And one of us will have Natasha with us. Okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper, watching her walk away from you into the darkness. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you walk forward into the dark pathway. The water running through the tunnel cleans the blood off your boots, splashing loudly but that’s likely your Super-hearing. “Nat?” You yell out into the dark, hoping for a response back, a creak, a breath, anything to indicate she’s here somewhere. You can hear the air rushing through the pipes attached to the ceiling, the water streaming through the pipes on the wall. But you can’t hear Natasha. You can’t even hear Wanda walking despite the fact that the tunnel she went through should be parallel to yours.

“Mission report.” The voice in your head startles you, freezing you in your tracks. Turning around, you narrow your eyes but still can’t see anyone. How? You take a step forward; going back won’t lead you anywhere but upstairs and you know Natasha has to be here somewhere. You wait for the voice to speak up again, curious to know how you can hear them so clearly. “All this pain. This torture. And you still have this passion, thirst for knowledge. Remarkable.” Meyer. You know those words from your night terrors, you know her voice. That’s why Wanda was confused...she couldn’t hear the trigger words. Meyer was communicating from her mind to yours, like she did that night…“That night you killed my daughter in law?”

“That is on you.” You growl, taking another cautious step. The pipe next to you bursts suddenly and you impulsively punching a hole into it definitely doesn’t help. The water flows out and you narrowly avoid it wetting your outfit as you carry your pace to your destination.

“Mission report, Crusher. Mexico, 1977.” She demands in a steady voice, revealing that she was the one who sent you there. All you could remember from that mission was the fact that you had one before the mafia took you, controlled you. And the Petunias. The ones you also saw in Bertha’s shop. You could never forget those flowers. You really should have seen this coming.

“I can’t remember.” You say in a strained voice, glaring through the dark.

“That’s my doing. I need you to remember. Remember what you did to me, what you took from me. Mission report. Mexico, 1977.” Her voice shakes angrily as she yells. Another pipe from above bursts, but this time you don’t have time to react. The gas instantly takes over your senses, invading your body.

“I’ll-I’ll kill...you.” You whisper, choking as you drop to your knees. Your head drops to the wet ground, eyes fluttering closed as the lights above you flicker.

Chapter Text

This is by far your favourite seat in the café. You’ve been coming here from the very first day they stationed you in Mexico, finding this little spot just a couple blocks away from the small, beat up house HYDRA gave you. Well, not really ‘gave’; by the time you arrived all you saw was an old man on his knees outside the front door and an agent by his side with a gun pressed against the side of his bloodied head. You’ve always found the killing aspect unnecessary, but you’ve grown numb to it at this point; this is your life, this is what you were made to do. Fall out of line and you’ll be the one on your knees instead with your brains splattering all over the floor. Although you suspect Bertha would never put you in that position. She could never put you down, not while she cares for you and you care for her. And she’s the only person in this whole damn organisation that has shown you an ounce of love.

The first day here, she showed up at your doorstep with a kind smile, holding her hand out for you to hold. You let her guide you around the city and she only stopped when she saw your eyes light up with curiosity; you found the café, completely packed out and busy enough for you to sit and enjoy an espresso, camouflaged in the crowd. That’s where you’re sitting when you see him with her. Stefan with his long, dirty blonde, greasy hair tucked behind his ear as he smirks at the skinny brunette leaning against the brick wall. You doubt yourself for a moment, deciding to give it a couple seconds instead of jumping to conclusions. But he steps closer to her, his back to you showing off the sweat darkening the back of the white wifebeater he’s wearing. The moon shines on the two of them, their sweaty skin glossing. His head moves lower and lower until his lips connect to hers.

Without a second thought, you chug the rest of your espresso and march through the crowd with tightened, white fists. Your eyes stay trained on the couple as they deepen their kiss, tongues clashing, teeth clattering together. But it’s too busy. Too crowded. They seem to have the same idea as they pull away from each other, stumbling into an empty alleyway to the right. Following them a couple feet behind with a glare trained on your expression, you lean against the wall as they stop. You wonder how far he’ll take it, if he realises what he’s doing is wrong, if he’s drunk and out of his right mind.

“Estás...caliente?” He asks as he takes deep breaths, pressing her against the wall, pushing his crotch against her front. God, he’s an incompetant idiot. What does Bertha even see in him? Someone with her brilliance, with her knowledge, her class…by his side? Opposites attract, but that doesn’t mean they should.

“Caliente.” The brunette laughs mocking him, throwing her head back to give him access to leave bite marks across her sweaty neck. “Guapa, papi.” She corrects him with a loud moan, whining as she grinds against his growing package.

“ Muy guapa.” He groans against her lips with a deep chuckle, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he tugs his shorts down revealing his throbbing appendage. Really? That’s it? Seriously, why the fuck is Bertha even with him? You decide you’ve seen enough, so you clear your throat, walking towards them, dust flying around your black boots. Stefan mutters curses under his breath, pulling away from her quickly. He pushes the brunette hard enough against the wall for her to let out a gasp at the pain. But the moment his eyes land on you, he lets out a relieved sigh, eyes going from wide to narrow. “Oh. It’s just you. Don’t you have orders, soldier? Someone’s head to crush, perhaps?” He rolls his eyes at the glare you give him, shrugging you off and going back to kissing the brunette’s neck. Your blood boils as you watch him continue, paying you no attention.

“Last I recall, this whore isn’t your fiancé.” You grunt out in anger. Bertha has often warned you, scolded you for being protective. Too protective at times. But she’s all you have. She taught you all you know, read you all the books your mind has memorised on the days where your eyes were sewn shut from the beatings. She nursed you back to life on the days that you thought would be your last, on the days you sometimes hoped would be your last.

“You are way out of line, soldier. Who do you think you are?” Stefan growls as he pulls away from his whore, turning to face you with tightened fists. With red lipstick smudged on his lips, his face only angers you more. He’s a pig, and pigs get slaughtered.

“Who do you think you are, microdick?” You smirk as you glance down at his still hard crotch. He glares, face turning red in anger and embarrassment. Stefan steps forward with a threatening expression, truly believing he has dominance in this situation. The only thing you can give him is a smirk. He’ll get what he deserves.

“Micro? I’ll show you fucking micro, bitch. This is what happens when we let lab rats run free. I warned Bert-” He spits with venom but the lab rat comment doesn’t get to you; him mentioning the very financé he’s cheating on in front of you is what fuels your anger.

“Get her name out of your filthy mouth.” You only see red as you rage at him, scaring the brunette standing behind him pulling her panties up. “You don’t deserve her!” You yell at him with a glare, lips quivering slightly, surprised at your own anger and rage. It’s uncontrollable and if Bertha were here she’d help you but she isn’t. She isn’t here, and you can’t control yourself. You’ve never felt an anger this intense, never felt this desperate need to protect someone.

“And you do? Are you out of your mind? You’re not even human. You’re a heartless, soulless soldier. A fucking robot. You don’t deserve sex let alone lov-” With a quick sucker punch to his face, he falls back with a groan. The brunette gasps behind him, keeping her eyes on you as she sticks to the wall in fear. “What the f-” Your boot lands on his cheek as you kick with all your might. Seeing his teeth spitting out his mouth shining on the floor hypnotises you, puts you in a trance where all you can see is blood.

“You don’t deserve life.” The brunette decides to make a run for it...but Bertha’s taught you that no witnesses should be left alive. As she tries to squeeze past you, your hand reaches out, using your Super-strength to plunge her head against the wall. It splatters as she drops to the ground and all Stefan can do is watch in horror, groaning as he holds his hand out under his mouth. Blood streams out along with his teeth and all you focus on is the red. All you see is red.

“You-You don’t dictate that, we do. Stand-” Still trying to establish dominance, he attempts to command you but your knee collides with his bloodied face. Stefan falls onto his back as you dive on top of him, straddling his waist. He knows what you’re going to do the moment your hands hold his face; his eyes open wide in pure horror, blood streaming out of his mouth. Not only is he terrified of what happens next, but the pure rage and darkness in your eyes sends a pang to his chest.

“This is what I was made for. To kill those with no use.” Your voice quivers as the weak face, your real face deep inside you cries out in protest. They did this to you, they made you a killer. You were programmed for this. You could fight, you could do better. But you don’t want to. He doesn’t deserve better than this. “You...are useless.” The words come out with drops of your spit as tears prickle your eyes. You let out a gasp, taking deep, harsh breaths as your heart paces faster in your chest. Your hands tighten and tighten, feeling his skin stretch, his strong skull fracture. Stefan’s wide eyes don’t leave yours as he lets out a desperate scream, one of agony, of fear, ripping through his lungs. But it gets cut short when his body flops down, no longer fighting you. But you don’t stop. Your hands don’t let go until his skull is crushed, until you see his head crack open, his brain still throbbing as it dies. “You- You did this!” You yell at his lifeless body, struggling to breathe as you stumble to your feet, tripping over his body. “You made me!” Your boots kick his ribs over and over again until they crack under the pressure. Just like he’d done to you many times, just as he commanded other agents to do.

You make your way home and no one pays mind to the blood on your hands, your white vest, splattered across your exposed skin. Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. You drink coffee after coffee after coffee, sitting in the kitchen looking out the window as the sun rises. That morning, Bertha bursts into your little house, angry tears falling freely. You notice no agents follow her through the door; she came alone, impulsively, very unlike her.

“What have you done!?” Bertha cries out, gripping the white vest on your chest still stained with blood. Stefan’s blood. She lets go the second she realises, hands retreating in horror. The oceans in her eyes are angry, raging, waves crashing and if you stare deep enough you’ll fall into the storm. You look away, clearing your throat as you raise your cup of coffee, but Bertha slaps it away, staining your shirt brown now. It’s scolding hot but you don’t move an inch; you don’t feel a thing anymore.

“What had to be done.” You keep your voice steady but she sees right through you as you clench your jaw, trying to stand your ground. You can’t help but cower under her harsh gaze like you’ve always done. You hate it when she’s disappointed with you, but this is a whole different feeling. She’s not only disappointed but angry, broken, betrayed by you. But she doesn’t get it; she doesn’t get why you had to do it.

“You-You killed my-” She stutters as she takes in harsh breaths between her sobs and it only fuels you to stand up and slam your fist down in frustration. The wooden table breaks under the pressure of your hand but neither of you take your wide eyes off each other.

“Your what!? Fiancé? The man who I caught with his pants down ready to stuff his cock into some whore!? He deserved it. Every fucking second of pain.” She flinches at your words rather than your movement towards her, shuddering at your hard glare as you look down into her glossy blue eyes.

“I loved him!” Her voice shakes as she yells, her nose bumping against yours at how close she is. She pushes against your chest in anger when your skin touches hers, letting all her frustrations out with tight white fists. But you barely move a muscle. You let her hit you anyway as you carry on yelling defensively.

“You deserve better than him! Stefan was a brainless bag of blood and bones; he served no fucking purpose in this world but to bring pain and torment! To you, to me, hell, even to that whore he was fucking! You deserve someone who loves you and-” Bertha lets out a humorless chuckle at your words; a pout forms on your face at her reaction, already feeling small.

“Love? And who exactly will love me? You?” There’s nothing but disgust in her eyes as she glares up into yours, her words dripping with superiority. You can’t look away no matter how badly you want to. It’s patronising, and you hate the way your heart clenches in your chest, cracking just a little at her tone.

“I-” She steps forward as you step back, pushing and pushing until you’re pressing up against the sink behind you, gulping at the intensity and power she holds. You can feel yourself slowly shrinking at her following words.

“You’re not capable of love, Crusher. You’re a machine. A killer...a monster.” She sneers, tongue poking out as her tears dry out. You don’t want to believe her words...you won’t. She’s shown you what love is and you know what you feel, you know what she feels. “No one could ever love a monster.” You turn your head away, gulping to swallow your heart that has suddenly jumped up your throat.

“I’ve read the books. Drop the cliche.” You clear your throat, putting up a front, but her cold hand grips your jaw harshly, nails digging into your skin as she forces your head back to her. There’s no escape as your eyes lock onto hers and you can see the pain behind them...the rage, her sudden determination to bring you down, bring you the same pain you brought her.

“Those books have happy endings. Yours won’t. There will come a day where you think you have love...and I will take it from you. I will take away your heart, just like you have just taken away mine.” Bertha threatens, voice nothing but steady. This is the moment you felt true fear. Being terrified of the agents beating you, the scientists electrocuting you, the doctors sticking needles into your body, that’s a different type of fear. But this? This makes every cell in your body weak, trembling, terrified of an uncertain future.

“Look, Bertha. I...I am sorry. Okay? I-I lost control, but it won’t happen again.” There’s no sympathy in her eyes, despite the fact that she can tell you’re scared that she’ll abandon you. That she’ll leave you, that she’ll stop caring for you. Bertha steps away from you, clearing her throat loudly. Suddenly, the door bursts open and you come face to face with your boss. Your mafia boss, the very man you’ve been working under as you infiltrate their organisation and tear it from the inside. “What is this?” You whisper, eyes dropping back to Bertha. She ruined the operation and blew your cover. And you don’t understand why until her next words.

“They’re willing to pay triple what we could have made from taking them out.” Your heart pangs in your chest at her emotionless tone. But you refuse to deal with that pain. Part of you still clings on...part of you still hopes that she’ll change her mind, that you can be forgiven.

“For what?” You ask desperately, begging for reassurance, for another chance. But she looks up at you with hollow eyes, handing over a notebook to the mafia boss. Your notebook, the one with all the information needed on Crusher.

“For a machine.” She replies coldly and your barrier drops completely, heart shattering. You know you hurt her but...but she cares for you. You know she cares for you. She showed you humanity, showed you that with pain comes lessons and it’ll be worth it all in the end. It was worth it all when she came back into your cell alone, cleaning your wounds, reading you her favourite books. She showed you vulnerability so you could do the same. She loves you.

“No...no, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do that to me...You wouldn’t abandon me. You-You read to me, taught me all I know, you-you made me strong, and-and cleansed me, fed me, kept me alive. You keep me sane because...because you love me. Bertha, you love me!” You yell desperately, stepping closer to her, tears pooling in your eyes involuntarily. Whatever is left of your heart won’t be able to take this. She’s all you have left, the only love you’ve ever been given under HYDRA’s control.

“You’re pathetic.” Bertha whispers, leaning forward, breath hot against your chin. You take in a harsh breath at her words, her rejection, and let out a chuckle of disbelief. You sound almost hysterical at this point with your hyperventilating, with your wide teary eyes.

“You cared for me, like-like...You can’t fake a love like that, Meyer. You can’t.” You struggle to form your thoughts into words, still hoping you could change her mind, but it’s been made up. Looking around you, you realise her mind was made up long before anything happened with Stefan. She couldn’t have done this overnight. The room fills with mafia members you’ve been working with for months, all of them glaring at you at the betrayal. But your eyes land back on Bertha, still wide, still desperate, still begging for her to stay. All you need is someone to stay.

“Take her away.” She says clearly, no hesitation in her tone. Your heart clenches in your chest tighter and tighter until it bursts, blood boiling through your veins. She turns away heading towards the door and the impulsive anger inside is not something you can control. Everything moves slowly as your vision blurs from the tears in your eyes. Your heart beats in your ears, pounding so hard you don’t hear anything else.

“Haus.” The mafia boss speaks out with the book open in front of him but he can’t get another word out after your fist collides with his face, knocking him out with one punch. His heavy figure drops to the floor with a thud and all his minions are too scared to even attempt to fight you after seeing your display of strength. Bertha turns around quickly at the sound, eyes widening when she sees you coming for her.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You yell, spoon in your hand that you grabbed from your cup of coffee she dropped on the floor. She can’t escape fast enough, crying out in shock and indescribable pain as you throw the spoon with Super-speed. The metal sticks through her right eye and she’s too scared to pull it out, dropping to her knees. Her hands shake as she cries and moves them close to the spoon, but you pull it out for her with a grunt. She lets out a shattered scream as she falls back in pain, holding onto her eye. You stumble up to your feet, staring down at her with pure rage. Just as you move to kick her stomach, you see her other hand resting over it.

“S-Stop! Stop! I’m pregnant!” She cries out, stopping your boot just in time. You freeze at her revelation, eyes zooming onto the bump of her stomach. Her baggy shirt while standing up doesn’t stick to the bump but the material suddenly clings to her body when she turns to lay on her back, taking in shaky breaths as she cries. “I’m with child.” She whispers when you step towards her, squatting next to her head as you look down at her.

“Pregnant?” You whisper in shock, in horror of what you’ve just done to her. Oh. It’s Stefan’s. A tight pain in your chest stops the flow of air in your body and you only know it’s guilt because Bertha once told you that’s what it was. She conditioned it out of you, making you kill innocent people they kidnapped and brought over to you just for that purpose. She made you do it over and over again until you felt nothing. But it’s back. Because you care about her. You care that you’ve hurt her like this, in a way that’ll haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve taken away the father of my son, Y/N. My child is innocent.” She whispers as you drop to your knees. The blood pouring from her eye stains her shirt as she sits up, holding your cheek in her red hand. “That was not Crusher. That was you.” Her harsh words echo in your head.

“Me.” You whisper, your heart shattering in your chest. The child is innocent, and you-

“ You’re the monster.” Bertha states and you can’t argue with her. She’s right.

“I’m the monster.” The words echo in your head, a bright light blinding your sight as you attempt to stumble up to your feet. You only fall face first on a rough surface scratching your cheek, water splashing all over your face. Her words echo over and over again, louder and louder until your ears are ringing. Crawling into a ball, you rock back and forth, whimpering as your hands cover your ears. The water continues falling onto you until you open your eyes and you’ve never seen anything more clearer than this; Natasha’s emerald eyes stare into your own with an understanding that no other will ever have. Her hands cover your own, stroking gently as she leans forward, her forehead pressed against yours. “I’ve changed.” You whisper just as Natasha says it, her soft voice coming out in a whisper against your lips.

“With that much death on your soul...you will never change.” Meyer’s distant voice speaks out, loudly interrupting your moment with Natasha. But the moment you blink, Natasha’s gone and all you can see is darkness. The light above you flickers, lighting up your surroundings; pipes, a stream of muddy water that’s still dripping down the side of your cheek, a burst pipe above you raining water down on you.

“Meyer.” You murmur, coming back to your senses, overwhelmed by your memories coming back. It’s not just Mexico you remember but years of your life under Meyer’s command. Under her care. You refuse to let your feelings confuse you because the only thing that matters right now is getting Natasha back. You’re done with the mind games. “Meyer!” You yell out as you make your way up to your feet, stamping down heavily as you jog down the tunnel.

Your jog quickly changes into a run when you turn the corner and see a scratched black door. Bursting through it, you come face to face with Meyer’s wrinkly skin, her black and blue eyes staring at you through the transparent glass protecting her in the little room she’s in. She stands up from her chair, holding onto her cane with a wide grin showing off her eerie white teeth. A soft groan breaks your hostile gaze from hers; turning to the left to the source of that sound, you see Wanda tied to a chair with a helmet on, strings of wires and blocks of dynamite stuck to it. She mumbles against the rag inside her mouth, head hanging low, too weak to look up. You reach a hand out to her, wanting to go and free her, but the growl to your right has your head snapping to the side, this time seeing Natasha tied in the same manner. Dried blood covers parts of her face, clearly from a head injury, but her glare remains on Bertha through the glass. She pulls and tugs at her restraints but stops when she turns her head and catches your eyes. Your heart can rest a little finally knowing that she’s alive. A relieved and grateful sigh escapes your throat as you watch the dark shade in her eyes brighten, her harsh, hateful eyes turning softer the longer you two look into each other’s eyes. But the moment is cut short by the harsh, distorted sound of Bertha’s voice through the speaker. You don’t know where to go first.

“I told you, didn’t I, child? I will take away your heart.” Your blood boils in pure hatred and rage as you stare Bertha down, fists tightening so hard your nails cut into your skin. Not only did she mess with your head for weeks, but she kidnapped and abused the two people closest to your heart. The only thing you can think about is crushing her skull right now.

“Let them go.” You growl out, anger only increasing when Bertha lets out a loud condescending laugh at your words.

“You’ve read the books. Drop the cliche.” Her voice still sends shivers down your spine and you’ve come to accept that it probably always will. What she put you through haunts you like nothing else. It was more than just physical pain; she manipulated you, played into your vulnerable side when you needed an attachment, when you needed a connection the most. She made you attach to her just for her to break what was left of your heart, your hope, your soul by abandoning you. You take a step forward, knowing you can easily punch through that glass, ready to take her down.

“I said-”

“One more step and both their brains will splatter all over these walls.” Her harsh words are accompanied by the remote in her hand as she raises it up to show it off. You freeze in your spot, too scared to even move backwards after her threat. Your lips quiver slightly in desperation, trying to come up with a plan. You have to save them both; you can’t have anyone’s death on your hands anymore let alone Wanda and Natasha’s. “See...you complicated things, like you always do. I thought Natasha here was the one you love. But seeing your little... display with the witch changed everything.” You know Natasha’s eyes are on you and you’re too scared to look at her, knowing she’s confused, knowing she might even be hurt by Bertha’s words. “I have never seen you break free from my control. Yet you broke free for her.” Bertha looks at you curiously, glancing at Wanda in astonishment. You honestly don’t know how you broke out either, especially on your own. Wanda helped, but she didn’t mind-control you; she simply reminded you of the connection the two of you shared.

“So, what? What’s your plan? Kill them both? Kill two Avengers? Spend the rest of your life in a cell for what? Revenge?” You question, letting out a humourless laugh at her. You know she’s being pathetic, bitter, refusing to let go of the past. So much so that she’s willing to drag you back into it and take everyone you love down too. You can’t let that happen.

“Oh, I said I’d take your heart away, child. So...why don’t you tell me who has your heart?” A sinister grin takes over Bertha’s features when your hard expression drops in worry and fear.

“What?” You whisper, already guessing what she has planned for you. But you can’t even answer that question yourself.

“You can only save one. Choose. Or they both die.” Both of them protest with whines, growls, groans against the rags between their lips. You glance between Wanda and Natasha, trying to find a way out of this. It’s then that you notice the collar around Wanda’s neck, the one stopping her from using her magic. You can’t help but growl at that angrily and protectively, moving your foot but stopping when you realise you can’t choose. Not when Natasha’s to your right with ripped clothes, bruises and cuts all over her body, eyes that are only soft towards you. Understanding eyes. Even now, she’d understand no matter what decision you make. You subtly look at the wiring of the bombs over their heads but Bertha notices. “They’re linked. Disarm one...the other goes off.” She chuckles at the look on your face when you turn to her frustratedly.

“You’re in my head.” You state, knowing she’s likely hearing your thoughts right now. All you can do is stall. You need to stall until it’s time.

“Correct.” She replies, walking inside the small locked room with her cane stomping on the ground.

“How?” You ask, tilting your head. She never answered you throughout the years, and you figure she won’t answer you now either. Meyer huffs at you amusedly at your desperate attempts to drag the time.

“Choose.” She demands but you stand your ground with a clenched jaw. The only way to disarm both of them is with the remote. Her thumb rests on one button, the trigger button. The small one below it has to be the one to disarm them.

“No.” You reply, refusing to play games with her. You just need another minute or two. Just a little more time. Sweat trickles down the side of your face as you gulp, running a hand through your locks. Your heart’s beating faster by the second, worry taking over you. What if you can’t? What if you fail? Would you be able to live with yourself with both Natasha and Wanda’s deaths on your hands? You were barely making it thinking Natasha’s death was your fault. Wanda’s still young, still has time to redeem herself. Even Natasha is on her journey of redemption. But you? After Bertha brought back your memories, you’re coming to realise you’re a bigger monster than you thought you were. Hundreds of more deaths on your hands. Hundreds of heads crushed, hundreds of painful cries of agony, blood staining not only your hands but your soul. It’s all on you and you fear it’s too much red to wipe out. The least you can do is save the two people you love the most in this world. Your last act has to be a good one. It has to.

“Choose. Or they’re both gone...and you will have to live with even more death on your soul.” Bertha shoves the knife into the wound deeper, reading your thoughts, speaking into your head. You can tell the difference now as her voice echoes in your mind, louder than everything else.

“I won’t.” Meyer sighs at your response, knowing you’re stalling. You refuse to expose the reason to why, keeping it locked in your mind so deep she can’t reach for it.

“Fine. A little motivation should do it.” And within the next couple seconds and a push of a button on the desk in front of her, a timer starts, lighting up on a small black screen above the glass. You watch the time go down from five minutes as you clench your jaw, panic filling your chest.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” You threaten angrily, tugging on your hair as you let out a frustrating sigh, bending down with your hands resting on your knees. You can’t come up with anything. You have to choose; you know there’s no other option if they don’t make it within the next 5 minutes. You can already hear grunts and screams through the walls with your Super-hearing but they’re still distant.

“Oh, you already tried! You took my eye! My fiancé, my son’s father! You took everything from me!” Bertha bursts out, voice raspy, trembling tone, cane dropping to the ground in anger. Seth turned out to be a fucking idiot, but you’re sure he would have been an even bigger one if he had a cheating asshole for a father. Although you do feel guilty for the pain you caused Bertha, you feel worse for yourself than for her. For the things you done, the black you tainted your soul with. But hers is just as black. The only thing she cares about is herself. She never cared about you.

“I-I was a different person then. You deserve so much worse for what you put me through.” Bertha rolls her eyes with a scoff at your words, clenching her teeth together as she struggles to contain her emotions. This is all she’s been wanting to do, planning to do for years.

“Oh, cry me a fucking river. I made you powerful, the best weapon anyone could ask for. Your body is worth millions!” Bertha sneers with a glare.

“You made me a monster!” You argue back, voice shaking. You didn’t expect to feel like this: betrayed. You still feel upset, angry, broken by the abandonment, her manipulation, deception. You trusted her with all your heart and she gave you away. She let you be passed around from the mafia to other organisations over and over again until S.H.I.E.L.D. found you. She let you suffer, let you spend almost 40 years being brainwashed over and over again, frozen for years and taken out to be used with no one to cleanse you like she did, no one to teach you, to hold you, care for you. She made you lose hope. And nothing is worse than being forced to live when you have more reasons to die.

“No, you became one by your own doing.” She says harshly. “Choose.” She repeats, clearing her throat to collect herself. Bertha scolds herself for letting you distract her, for letting you get to her. But with the time running out as you glance up at the clock, a new desperation fills you. There’s nothing left to do with only 60 seconds left on the timer. Turning your head to the left, you frown with deep brows set low as tears prickle your eyes. Wanda’s eyes are barely open, but they’re pleading, begging for you to help. She’s terrified, especially with the collar around her neck. She can’t save herself. But Natasha...her eyes don’t plead. They don’t beg. She’s been ready for death from the moment she was taken by Dreykov, trained for death. She understands how hard this is for you. What she fears isn’t death; she fears your love for Wanda is stronger than your love for her. It’s what she’s always feared. That she’s beyond redemption, undeserving of the love you have to offer, that the horrible things she’s done has tainted her soul dark beyond recognition.

“I’m-I’m so sorry.” You whisper, looking down as your tears drop onto the ground. It’s time. You finally take a hesitant step to one side. Both their eyes widen at your choice, but before you can go further the brick wall to the left cracks, broken debris falling onto the ground as Steve crashes through the wall. Clint comes in behind Steve, shooting an arrow breaking the glass and another in succession, the second one attached to a rope that wraps around Meyer’s hands before she can press the button on the remote. Seeing Steve already working on untying Wanda, you run towards Natasha, immediately dropping to your knees. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You apologise over and over again, tears spilling down your cheeks as you quickly get rid of the ropes around Natasha’s legs, arms, pulling the rag out of her mouth. Your hands shake as you do so, no matter how hard you try to contain your emotions. Your touch used to be something she wanted, something to keep her safe and make her feel good. But now? Now you’re horrified. You’re scared that you’ll hurt her, put her in danger again. That’s all you seem to be doing lately.

“Hey, look, look at me. We’re okay, we made it, and we’ll go home and everything will be fine. Okay? Just breathe with me.” Natasha immediately holds your face in her hands when she’s freed, pressing her forehead to yours. Your tears mix with hers, everything behind you going silent as you stare into her eyes with nothing but guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Nat. I’m so fucking sorry.” You sob, clinging onto her waist, pulling her in tight against you. She doesn’t care about her wounds or the pain and ache all over her body; Nat sighs against you, letting out a laugh of pure happiness when your nose brushes against hers. She breathes you in with a soft smile on her lips.

“I forgive you.” She whispers against your lips, knowing the exact words you need to hear. You don’t deserve her forgiveness, but hearing her say it and seeing nothing but honesty in her eyes rests your soul a little. Nat takes some of the burden off your chest and puts it on her own, sharing it with you. “Y/N, I forgive you. None of this was you. None of it.” She reassures you over and over again, her hands never leaving your face until Clint comes up behind her. He tells Nat to sit still as he carefully removes the helmet off her head and that’s when you take a moment to glance at the timer on the wall, seeing it frozen at just 12 seconds left.

“You wanna take her in?” Clint asks you when he passes the device off to one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents next to him. But he notices the look on your face, your bloodied hands clinging onto Natasha’s.

“I-” You hesitate, glancing at Nat like you don’t want to let her go in fear that she’ll get taken from you again. But Clint gives you all the reassurance you need.

“I got her, she’ll be okay. I think you need the closure, bud. Go take her in.” He rests a hand on your shoulder, convincing you to stand up and end this. After Nat gives you a quick nod and a tight squeeze of your hand, you get up to your feet, letting the medics help Natasha. Turning around and taking a deep breath in to compose yourself, you walk towards the broken glass, kicking it about as you stroll through the room. Glancing around, you look at the controls on the desk that controls the lights in the shop above, the timer, even the pipes. This was clearly a well thought-out plan. You begin to understand the hatred she holds for you, and you don’t really blame her for that. Her soul was already tainted the moment she decided to work for an organisation like HYDRA. She cannot forgive; she doesn’t have a heart to do so.

“All this for a man who never loved you.” You ponder, leaning down into a squat to look at Dr Meyer. It’s hard to let go, hard to just forgive especially when you haven’t had the privilege of time to think everything through and process. You’ve only just found out all about her, overwhelmed with the years of memories unlocked in your mind. You once loved her. And you thought she loved you. Perhaps not in a romantic way, but...something deep. Something you never had under HYDRA’s control. She nursed you, taught you everything you know, every book, author, poet, philosopher, every quote you’ve memorised was with her. It was her knowledge passed to you. And you’ve been passing the knowledge of a soulless monster to...to Wanda. Everything you’ve ever known isn’t even you anymore...it’s Bertha. You don’t even know who you are at this point.

“You are no different to me.” Bertha breathes out heavily, struggling in the handcuffs they’ve put her in. She lets her angry tears fall freely as she looks at you with wide open eyes, filled with hatred, still determined to ruin you. You know she’s referring to Natasha. You came here with her, stayed here for her, ran head first and risked your life to save her. And you still haven’t told her the depth of your feelings in fear that she won’t feel the same. Now you understand where that fear stems from; Bertha’s abandonment. The one time you showed vulnerability, you were thrown to the highest bidder.

“I’m nothing like you.” You sigh, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change her. She’s beyond redemption. And perhaps you’re at fault for that. It’s something you have to come to terms with. She was a monster before you took the man she loved, but she was still kind. You took that away.

“You are me. I made you. I taught you what love is.” She snaps, voice growing louder by the second. She’s a lost cause. And you should keep her in the past. You don’t even want to open up those wounds, don’t want to relive your life with Meyer. There’s nothing to be found there, no hope, no answers, just pain.

“You’re not capable of love.” You state, looking at her with sympathy in your eyes. She hates it; it fuels an anger inside her, a raging fire itching to burn you to a crisp, until the only thing left is your ashes. She’s practically growling at you by the time you stand up with a sigh, hands on your hips as you look down at her. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think? The irony. You spent your life putting others in cells...just to rot and die in one.” You huff out, but you’re surprised by Meyer’s loud laughter. It’s eerie, mocking you, manic almost as her eyes close with tears prickling in the corners.

“Oh...this is just the beginning. I made you choose.” She hisses, laughing loudly. You gulp in discomfort, not understanding what she’s suggesting.

“Take her away.” You command one of the agents that walk by behind you. He nods, walking in and leaning down to help Meyer stand up. Her legs tremble as the agent urges her forward.

“I made you choose! Choose! You chose!” She shrieks as they take her away, laughing hysterically, sending shivers down your spine. Her words echo in your mind, but you push them aside. Looking around the room, it’s almost empty other than agents taking pictures for the files. Making your way outside, you take in a deep breath of the cool air, ignoring the looks from people you’ve interacted with in this small neighbourhood. It’s really over. And you don’t want to think about what it means for the compound, for your relationships and friendships. Everything is about to change and you’re close to just making a run for it so you don’t have to deal with this.

“You’re a bad actress, you know.” A voice speaks up from beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts and virtually ruining your few moments of silence.

“Huh?” You turn to the sound after shaking your head, seeing Mia standing beside you with a wide grin and her arms crossed over her chest. Well, perhaps not ruining. You do enjoy her company.

“You didn’t even try to disguise yourself.” She laughs at the shocked expression on your face. Of course she knew. The only person in town who you liked, and she was playing you all along for her own entertainment.

“You knew?” You can’t help letting out a huff of disbelief, turning to face her with your arms crossed. She rolls her eyes at you playfully, digging her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket.

“I’m an Avengers fan. Most people here don’t pay attention to that stuff since there’s literally never been any attacks here. But I knew you were Crusher. So badass.” She boasts, proud of herself for fooling you for so long, and kind of...giddy over you? You don’t really know how to react to that, not really having any fans. At least none you’ve interacted with like this.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No? Why would I pass up a chance to be secret friends with Crusher? That’s fucking awesome!” She grins widely, almost squealing with joy. Wow. She’s like...a whole different person like this. Was she acting the entire time? Perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D. should send her on undercover missions instead of you. You’re definitely done with those for a while.

“You’re a great kid, you know.” You compliment, patting her on the head. You let out a laugh when she pouts and swats your hand away.

“I’m not a kid.” She argues defensively.

“I’m almost 100 years old. You’re a kid.” You raise a brow at her and she laughs along with you, hugging herself when a gust of wind flies by. You glance around your surroundings, turning back to look at your shop one last time.

“Thank you. For getting rid of Nanny Bertha. She’s so creepy.” Mia speaks up, making you almost jump up in excitement.

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” Finally someone agrees with you. A quick thought comes into your mind and you quickly glance around hoping no one pays attention. “Wait here.” You demand before sneaking back into your shop. Rushing to the fantasy section, you grab a few books for Mia. You’re probably not supposed to, since it’s all property of S.H.I.E.L.D. as of now. But she deserves it. Besides, you can’t leave her hanging. “Keep reading. It’s good for your brain.” You breathe out, handing her the pile of the rest of the Game of Thrones set. It almost towers over her head, but she still grins, squealing in happiness.

“Thank you! Follow me on Instagram?” She asks with a cheeky smile as you help her put the books into her backpack.

“Insta what?” You ask with furrowed brows, confused to what she’s asking of you. Mia lets out a loud snort, covering her mouth as laughter spills from her throat.

“You really are a mega boomer.” She insults you with a teasing grin and you give her a playful stern look in return.

“Okay, I know what that one means and it’s not funny.” Tugging her backpack on with a groan at how heavy it is, she turns to face you with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re like, pre-boomer. The mother of the boomers.” She continues teasing with a wide grin, holding her phone out as she turns to the side. You smile for the camera as you put your arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a side hug.

“Don’t push your luck, kid.” You threaten teasingly. Before you can pull away after she snaps a photo, Mia’s arms quickly wrap around your waist, hugging you tight. A little startled, you let out a grunt before hesitantly wrapping your arms around her shoulders with a chuckle. It...kind of feels good to be the good guy for once. To be recognised. She pulls away quickly with red cheeks, walking backwards as she waves you off. “Stay in school!” You yell after her. She rolls her eyes and turns her back to you. “And no more naked people!” She lets out a loud laugh, looking over her shoulder. You also catch the attention of a couple onlookers but give them a defensive look in response. “Damn, I should really stop yelling that.” You mumble before sighing and walking back to the jet. It’s not hard to spot Vision as he flies down, landing by Wanda’s side as she gets pushed into the bigger jet on a medical bed. With a sigh, you drop your head down and walk to the jet, ignoring the looks everyone gives you. Scanning the inside, you find Natasha asleep on a medical bed and a nurse with her, cleaning her wounds. Making your way over with a relieved sigh, you ignore Wanda’s stare that you can feel on the back of your head, fading out the sound of Vision’s robotic voice expressing how he’s glad she’s okay. Dropping to lay on the ground next to Natasha’s bed, you loosely hold onto her hand that hangs down, intertwining your fingers with hers. It’s going to be a long ride home.

Chapter Text

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The moving handles are all you can focus on as you count the seconds, minutes, hours, days you’ve been waiting for Natasha to wake up. Of course the doctors all said the same thing every single time you asked, each time you went to a different specialist for a second opinion. It became a third, fourth, fifth opinion too. Maria went out of her way to bring in another doctor just because you kept pestering her about it. She understood how you felt; she understood the fear, the paranoia, sometimes the panic that grew in your chest, effectively sucking the air out of your lungs like a fucking leech. All you want is for her to wake up. You just want to tell her you’re sorry again, to look into those eyes that reveal everything to you, to hold her and kiss her and promise with all your heart that you’ll spend the rest of your life making it up to her.

But it’s been three days and you haven’t left her side yet. Clint often comes in to try to force you to eat; Maria comes in to tell you you stink, her not so subtle way of asking you to shower; Steve comes in to try to convince you to get some sleep. You don’t listen to a single one of them. The only thing you listen to is her beating heart through the monitor, but even that isn’t enough. Sometimes they walk past the medical room to check in just to see you with your head resting against Natasha’s chest, your ear pressed against her heart wanting to be as close as possible to it. To her. It’s only when Wanda finally visits that you falter in your stubbornness.

Wanda knocks on the glass before she walks in, waiting for a signal that you’re okay with being around her. She can never be sure after what’s happened the last couple of weeks. Or week. Singular. You’ve lost sense of time, still overwhelmed with it all, an influx of memories overlapping as you struggle to fit the puzzle correctly. Perhaps that’s another reason why you refuse to sleep; the last thing you need right now is a nightmare, waking up in sweats without Natasha there to breathe with you. Now that you’ve had her, you don’t think you can go on without her again.

“How is she doing?” Wanda asks quietly as she takes a seat in the chair furthest from you, across the bed, across Natasha’s motionless body. Glancing over her soft features, you notice the heavy bags under her eyes, the lack of her signature dark eyeliner, her slightly frizzy hair. She hasn’t slept either and you scold yourself on the inside a little at your negligence. Being tied up like that, collar around her neck, threatened with death, it’s all extremely triggering for Wanda. You know this. Yet here you are, Nat’s hand in yours, sitting on this chair for so long you’ve likely imprinted it by now. Maybe you’re an asshole.

“Lost a lot of blood. Head injury. They said...there’s a chance she’ll forget.” You respond, voice cracking so badly you have to clear your throat to compose yourself. Those are words you refuse to believe. You asked every doctor; they all said the same. But you can’t-you can’t believe their words. That possibility will absolutely break you.

“Forget?” Wanda whispers, head tilted in confusion. Sometimes you feel she acts stupid just to look cute, beacuse that girl is fully capable of reading between the lines. It frustrates you a little, but you’re too tired to start something up.

“Forget the last two months.” You elaborate with a clenched jaw. Wanda frowns at the new piece of information, brows furrowing a little, eyes gleaming with a little sympathy. You turn your head to look at Natasha’s instead, staring at her eyelids hoping they’ll open. All you can do is hope and pray to the same God that put the both of you through years of pain. Broken over and over again, but finding each other and picking up the pieces. Picking up your own pieces, just to have a heart to give to the other.

“Oh.” Wanda sighs as she looks down at her lap, playing with the rings on her fingers.

“Small chance. But a chance, nevertheless.” Your voice cracks a little again and you know it’s most likely because you’re dehydrated, but you don’t have the energy to get up. Why do you get to drink and eat while Natasha lies motionless on the bed? Why is she the one suffering for your sins?

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wanda offers her condolences, her fucking sympathy, and you don’t believe it for a second. You’re probably being unreasonable, but her choosing to lie to you created a domino effect. You could have been with Nat months ago. Neither of you would have gone to the mission, Maria wouldn’t have even given you the mission if it wasn’t for your ‘unrequited’ feelings for Natasha. All those months and Wanda didn’t make a move until you were leaving. All that time wasted for what? Extra fucking cuddles?

“No you’re not.” Your words are harsh but your tone isn’t. It’s monotone, empty, eyes stuck to Natasha’s pale face still bruised in places. Wanda stays silent for a moment and you don’t want to look at her, knowing her expression already. Wide, teary eyes, greens turning a shade lighter to pull on your heart strings, pouty lips almost quivering, brows pulled together in the middle. You don’t want to cave.

“You really think that low of me?” She whispers, voice filled with hurt. All you do is let out a heavy sigh and turn your head slightly to look her in the eyes.

“I think you love me.” You expose, voice steady and sure. Wanda’s head twitches back, a little shocked that you’re exposing her like this. It’s not something the two of you have talked about. But she did almost say it when you two were caught up in the moment, when she thought she was on the brink of being crushed by your hands. Even then, the last thing on her mind was how she felt about you.

“I-I do.” She hesitantly replies, cautious, not knowing how to approach this. Your lips are in a permanent straight line, seemingly too exhausted to even show emotion on your face. This is probably the moment you’ll be the most honest, brutally honest, and she’s not really ready for it. Wanda squirms in her chair, a little nervous, a little terrified if she was being honest. Part of you thinks she may have kept her feelings to herself in fear of rejection. Now she has no choice but to confront it.

“I’d do anything to keep the one I love. You’re like me.” Your head drops back to look at Natasha again, the corner of your lips turning down a little, still seeing her eyes closed. The clock continues ticking in the tense silence, standing out loud and clear as a painful reminder that you’re running out of time.

“I already did everything I could to keep you. Your heart was always hers.” Wanda snaps a little impulsively. But she quickly sits back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest when your head turns again. Your eyes show nothing to her, and it disturbs her to the very core that your eyes are capable of looking that empty. But you use up whatever energy you have to add a little something in your eyes to remind her that you did want her.

“Not always.” You whisper after a couple seconds, but regretting saying it right after. Wanda hears you clearly though, sitting up in her seat a little more enthusiastically. You sigh, scolding yourself as your eyes land on Natasha’s dried lips. Yours are dry too. You should be in this bed instead.

“Can we talk about what happened...in that basement?” Wanda feels brave, encouraged enough to bring it up. But that’s the last thing you want to talk about. You were forced to make a choice. She-She made you choose. Her words echo in your head along with her hysterical laughter, now haunting not only your nightmares but your conscious mind. “It was impulse.” You shut Wanda’s attempts down. This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.

“Y/N-” But she pushes. She always pushes.

“I really don’t want to talk about this.” You warn with your best attempt at a glare, but it almost never works on Wanda. You never say no to her, so she’s not used to it. Of course she’s not going to stop until she gets everything off her chest.

“I know your head is shaken up right now, but-” Wanda reasons and that gives you enough power to sit up a little, glare hardening, barriers of your mind strengthening.

“Get out of my head.” You growl, accusing her of defying your ask. How else would she know? How could she infer that from a five minute conversation? The chair suddenly screeches on the floor as Wanda stands up with angry eyes.

“I do not need to be in your head to know how you are feeling. I know you, Y/N. I know you are not sleeping because you’re terrified of what you will dream about. I know you’re completely consumed by guilt because of how big your heart is despite their attempts to destroy it. I know that all you need right now is someone to hold you tight to force your senses to focus on touch. I know you, Y/N. And I thought you knew me too, but apparently you think I’m naive, jealous, heartless enough to wish death on one of my closest friends.” Her lips quiver the moment she finishes her speech, eyes already glossy and teary. If you had any tears left, you’re sure you’d be crying now too. You slowly stand up with a groan, stretching your legs as you make your way over to her side of the bed in an attempt to calm her down.

“Wanda, that’s not-” She shrugs your hand off her shoulder, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. She feels angry, rejected, so fucking embarrassed right now for coming here with the hopes of...well, she doesn’t even know what she hopes for. Wanda just wanted you to do something, say something that tells her that you still care about her. Instead you push her away and can barely take your attention off Natasha.

“That is exactly what you think.” She lashes out, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to avoid looking into yours, knowing it’ll just trigger the pools in her eyes to overflow. But you’re getting frustrated, infuriated even, with this childish nonsense. Clenching your jaw, you grab onto her hands tightly.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking? Here. I’ll fucking show you.” You force her hands up to the sides of your head and open your mind up to her. With your eyes wide open, red and puffy, staring into her own with somewhat of a desperate manner, Wanda can’t help but feel your pain. The moment she looks into your mind, she can’t differentiate between time, between people, feelings, pain or happiness; it’s all intertwined, all overlapping, every memory scattered around the typically organised library of your mind. She knows you don’t want her to pry, so she doesn’t pick up any of the books, doesn’t try to put them in the right order; she’s a mere spectator watching you attempt to figure it out yourself, but the piles are too tall. They’re towering over you threateningly and if she concentrates enough, flying above the towers, she sees you on the floor hugging your knees, tearing streaming down your face. You’re surrounded, trapped by towers of books, towers of your memories, years you’ve lost and only just unlocked. When she hears an excruciatingly painful scream escape your lungs, she can’t take it anymore and lets go of your face like it’s burnt her hands. Her eyes snap open to stare into yours that are now gleaming as you let your tears flow down freely.

“Does that clear it up for you? I don’t know what to think, Wanda, my mind is fucking broken right now. Mexico was yesterday, London was a week before, and our mission is right in the middle of it. I don’t know what happened when, and I’m fucking terrified and tired and so fucking sick of feeling guilty about it! I fucked up, I killed people but I was forced to do it. I-I thought I was forced. But-But some of it was just me. What they turned me into. It’s deeper than fucking mind control, it’s my fucking soul that’s black.” You vent, trying to catch your breath. It’s never this intense when you let Wanda into your mind but you suppose it’s not your mind anymore. Not what it was, at least. Wanda’s not used to it either and she’s clearly shaken by it all. Your mind used to be her safe space and now? Now she’s not sure if she wants to get in there again.

“This is exactly what I always tried to keep you safe from. All the times I pushed that darkness away to the back of the shelf.” Wanda sighs out, reaching a hesitant hand up to hold your cheek.

“You weren’t there this time.” You argue stubbornly, moving your face away from her touch. This anger is new and you realise part of you resents Wanda. For what? Lying? Spending every waking moment in your mind, making you grow dependent on her, just for you to have to go months without seeing her. It’s not her fault for you having to leave, but it is her fault for confusing you, for coming onto you right before you had to go, for telling you to leave because it’ll be ‘good’ for you to get over Natasha.

“Because you didn’t want me there.” Wanda argues, voice shaking as tears freely fall down her face. You scoff at that, a look of shock on your face. Without a second thought, you rip the bandaid off and just let it out. Fuck holding back.

“Seriously? You think I went on the mission because I didn’t want you? Wanda, I went because I did want you. I went because you told me to, you told me it would help me get over her. I left the compound expecting myself to have my heart broken every single day for the next six months, but it would all be worth it because I’d come back to you. I’d come back ready...for you.” There’s a painfully long silence after your confession, the only sound in the room being the clock ticking and Natasha’s heart beating on the monitor. Wanda’s eyes turn from hurt to something softer as she stares into yours and only sees truth. The painful truth. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, unconsciously stepping towards each other like magnets. You didn’t even know that’s what you wanted to say, you didn’t even know that’s how you felt. You just...let it out. Wanda’s hands brush against yours before gently holding them, stepping closer and looking up at your soft and vulnerable features. You let her cinnamon scent take over your senses for one moment, just one moment of weakness.

“I-” Wanda begins, but she’s interrupted before she can confess.

“Ugh.” Both your heads snap to the side at the sound of a painful groan. Your eyes land on Natasha who shifts ever so slightly in the bed, letting out soft groans and whimpers at the aches all over her body. Without a second thought, you drop Wanda’s hands and rush over to Natasha’s side, letting out a shaky breath of relief. 

“Thank God.” You whisper, pressing your lips to her forehead. Natasha sighs at the touch, her hand weakly reaching up to hold your warm cheek in her hand. You give in quickly, leaning into her touch with soft eyes staring into those greens that you missed so fucking much.

“I want…” She whispers in a raspy voice when she looks up into your eyes, blinking tiredly. “Fries. And a milkshake.” Nat reveals and you can’t help but let out a huff of laughter. She weakly smiles at the sound, pulling you in until your forehead presses against hers. She remembers.

“I’ll give you anything you want. Anything.”

Turns out all it took was Natasha to scrunch her nose up for you to finally leave the room and take a couple hours to take care of yourself. Also, the medical staff practically forced you out to run tests so you really had no choice. Food was a no-no; the second you walked into the kitchen you were met with Vision’s floating body hovering behind Wanda as she tasted whatever she was brewing up in the huge pot on the stove. Her encouraging and hopeful stare wasn’t enough to make you stay. The only other place you find solace is in the gym, so that’s exactly where you went. It’s empty when you get there, like it usually is. If there’s anyone there it’s usually a couple agents getting a run in, needing those extra hours of cardio. It never bothers you anyway, but today you need solitude.

Wrapping your hands and putting your favourite pair of gloves on, you take in a deep breath before starting with soft punches, taking a couple moments to jump around to increase your heartbeat. Minute by minute, your punches gain power, heart beats faster, legs plant heavier on the ground to steady yourself. Grunting with each punch, you close your eyes and blink away the sweat, but those few seconds are enough for your mind to wander and lose focus on the task at hand.

“Please, I have a family.” A trembling voice begs, echoing in your mind. It’s followed by a scream and you’re not even sure if it’s from you or him. All you know is the red gloves on your hand are suddenly dripping. With quick breaths you attempt to brush it off, throwing a couple combos on the bag, but a sudden gunshot sound startles you.

“Finish him.” Meyer’s commanding tone rings loudly in your ears. With sweat dripping down your body, your punches get harder and harder until the heavy bag falls off the chain, the insides spilling on the floor from the impact. “It’s just a target. A number.” Bertha urges as your vision blurs.

“He has a family.” You whisper and suddenly there’s a gun in your hand when you look down. “ They all have families.” Looking up, you see a line of dead bodies on the floor, all with crushed heads. The last man in line sits on his knees with his hands pressed onto the bleeding wound in his chest. He tried to escape. And Bertha shot him. You remember that.

“Finish him. Or I’ll finish you .” Meyer commands in an angry tone, disappointed with your disobedience. You can’t even glare at her. You just sigh and drop the gun, falling to your knees with your head down.

“Do it.” You challenge her, knowing she won’t. She can’t destroy the best weapon she’s ever created.

“ Haus .” Bertha starts and you immediately whimper just at the first word, already feeling the pang in your chest at the loss of control. Before you know it, the gun’s in your hand again, this time pointed at the man’s head as he cries, whimpers, begs for you to have mercy on him. With the final gunshot echoing, ringing in your ear, you close your eyes tight before finally opening them, seeing Steve in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You okay?” He asks, leaning down to place a hand on your shoulder. He notices you tensing up at the touch so he lets go understandingly. “So, Romanoff’s up, right?” Steve changes the topic quickly, sensing you’re not in the right space to talk about whatever he just walked in on right now. You weakly nod in response as you take in a shaky breath, stumbling up to your feet. Walking past him with shaky legs, you grab the ripped boxing bag and pull it to the corner. Before you can replace it with another, Steve stops you with a raised brow. “Go take a shower. Get something to eat. And get some sleep.” He commands, but his tone’s soft, eyes soft, all soft. You appreciate how much he cares for you, but you can’t sleep. You just can’t. If that’s what it feels like when you’re awake, you don’t want to know what’s ready for your unconscious mind.

“Steve-” You sigh but he shakes his head at you instantly, pulling you in for a tight hug despite the sweat on your body, despite the dry blood still all over your skin. You let out a shaky breath against his chest and his big arms wrap even tighter around your shoulders.

“It’s an order.” He playfully whispers with a chuckle when you huff against his chest. Well, as long as it’s an order. It wouldn’t hurt to at least smell a little better.

You rush to your suite and finally take a shower. You let the steaming hot water cleanse you, taking your time to wash the dried blood off your body. Nat let you use her scrub thing back at home. Well...it’s not actually home anymore. It never really was. Anyway, you don’t know much about that stuff, but what you do know is your home ‘spa’ days with Nat in your fake home left you with extremely soft skin and you had the absolute best sleep of your life after that. You do want to look your best for her. There’s no harm in that, no intention behind it; she’s just woken up, so sex is the last thing on your mind. Maybe not the last. But Natasha’s health and safety means the most to you, despite how badly you wanted to kiss her the moment her eyes opened and looked into yours with content. Like the first thing she wanted to see was you.

Maybe you have attachment issues. You latched onto Bertha the moment she gave you the tiniest bit of positive attention. Not the needles she ordered them to stick into you, not the beatings she commanded them to do, not the mind control and the invasion of your private thoughts. But the soft smiles, those understanding smiles that told you it’s okay. You’ll be okay. The nights she came to soothe and clean your wounds. Not just your physical wounds but your mind that was constantly on the brink of breaking, on the brink of losing hope. But you also attached to her because you had no one else to attach to. You attached to Maria until you found Natasha who understood you better than Maria ever could. You attached to Wanda because you couldn’t attach to Natasha when you thought she didn’t want you to. And now? Now you don’t have to attach to anyone because there isn’t just one person. There’s a whole team, a whole family there for you. That’s how you know this isn’t your unhealthy mental state; this is real, this is you loving someone, wanting to be close to them because they make your heart burst with one look. But at one point, looking at Wanda did the same. Things changed after you found out she was lying to you, but it’s still buried deep inside and the conversation with her this morning proved it.

By the time you’re out of the shower, dressed in the tightest white tee you can find and flattening joggers, you finish just in time to head down to the gated entrance to pick up the food you ordered for Nat. Ignoring Tony’s glares on your way down to the medical bay, you can’t help the wide smile on your face when you see Natasha sitting up in her bed flicking through the TV channels. When her eyes land on you, her glowing expression mirrors yours.

“You’re the best.” She praises, subtly biting her bottom lip as she takes a moment to glance over your bulging biceps as you reach over to pull over the small table top attached to the bed. The inner you smirks a little at her reaction.

“I know.” You tease with a smirk to which she rolls her eyes at. Carefully, you take the food out and place it neatly on the table. She immediately dips her fries into her milkshake, moaning as she finally tastes good food after being deprived for days. Clearly they haven’t fed her well and it tugs at your heart strings. You’ll make sure to cook up her favourite breakfast tomorrow morning.

“This is exactly what I needed.” Natasha groans out happily as she eats her fries. You watch over her with a content smile on your face. It’s probably a little weird that you like watching her eat, but in reality you just like seeing her happy; good food seems to do that.

“Didn’t know I was that big of an influence.” You tease with a smirk and raised brows, laughing when she rolls her eyes at you.

“Shut up.” She grumbles, sipping on her milkshake. You pull out your burger from the bag and take a bite with a soft moan at the taste, noticing Natasha’s eyes on your food. With an amused laugh, you pass over your burger to her. It’s worth it when she smiles widely with big eyes, happily taking it. You’re pretty sure she’s doped up right now, but it’s cute nonetheless. The two of you eat in comfortable silence together until you clear your throat as Natasha has the final bite of your burger.

“So...the last thing I wanna do is make you talk about-” You begin, not wanting to pry but you do want to know what Bertha did to her. Maybe to fuel you to go visit her, maybe just so you can understand what Natasha went through. Or maybe because you want to create a safe space with her; you want her to know that she can always come to you and tell you anything on her mind, even the darkest things.

“You need to hear it.” Natasha interrupts, already planning on telling you. 

“O-Okay.” You stutter, a little taken aback by her determination. It does warm your heart a little that she trusts you this much to be open with you about her kidnapping.

“While I…” Nat trails, sighing a little, not really wanting to say the words. You give her an understanding nod, letting her know she doesn’t have to say it.

“Yeah?”

“She talked. A lot. About you, mainly, what you did to her and Stefan.” Nat reveals hesitantly, frowning when you clench your jaw, looking down to avoid her gaze. You’re not proud of what you’ve done in the past, but it’s out of your control now.

“I was a different person then.” You urge, but there’s no convincing needed with Natasha. She leans her hand over, intertwining it with yours. Looking up at her with a soft smile, you’re instantly calmed down by her reassuring eyes and her touch.

“I know, baby.” She whispers, circling her thumb over your skin. The skin on your cheek tints just a little at her term of endearment, still not used to it. But you want to hear it again and again and again. You’ll never get tired of it. “She told me you didn’t kill Rebecca.” Nat reveals with a small smile. Your heart stops in your chest at that, slightly in denial. You were so sure you did. When you were having snippets of flashbacks, it looked like you did it with the blood on your hands and Bertha’s cane pounding loudly as she commanded you.

“What?” You whisper in disbelief, your throat suddenly dry. Natasha's hand squeezes yours a little harder.

“It wasn’t you. You resisted, so she knocked you out, killed Rebecca, and framed you. It’s not just Wanda, it’s you that fought her, fought for what’s right. That strength is inside you.” The smile on her face widens a little as you let out a huff of relief. Rebecca’s death has been haunting you since you found out about it. With a crushed head, it only made sense that it was you. But Bertha had no other reason to reveal the truth other than the ramblings of a crazy, lonely person. By the sounds of it, she had no one but Seth, and even then he’s a clueless idiot. It would make sense for her to vent to Natasha, especially if she was planning to kill her anyway.

“While that’s relieving to hear, my memories all came back. Rebecca’s not on me, but there’s hundreds...maybe thousands more that I didn’t know about.” Your sigh is heavy, filled with the burden of guilt. You still haven’t slept and you probably won’t sleep until your body gives up on you. Just working out was enough to trigger some of your haunting memories.

“That doesn’t erase your progress.” Natasha tries to reassure you but you’re not sure if anyone can do that at this point. The last thing you want is sympathy, and you know that’s not what Natasha’s offering you but you can’t help feeling a little pathetic. All you’ve been doing for the last week is crying, panicking, and sulking in your self pity.

“Maybe, maybe not. It definitely halts it.” You let out a huff, annoyed at yourself. You don’t even know where to begin with this. This sets you back decades in your progress, your journey to redemption. How will you ever get hundreds of families to forgive you? Can you even forgive yourself?

“It doesn’t have to.” Natasha’s attempts at soothing the ache in your chest doesn’t really work, but her eyes so open and vulnerable for you urge you to just spill whatever is on your mind. You have nothing to fear with her.

“I’m not...I’m not some fucking hero. Just when I thought I could be, Meyer turns my world upside down.” You vent with a frustrated groan, leaning back in the chair. You stare up at the lights and they start creaking a little; immediately, you shake your head knowing that creaking is a memory. The beginnings of your nightmares. You’re tired and you’re pretty sure you’re going to be hallucinating sometime soon. The decision to make is on whether your hallucinations or your nightmares are more torturous.

“You’re my hero.” Natasha teases, whispering seductively as she leans over to cling onto your wrist. Her fingers tease up your arm until you’re pulled in closer to her. With a dopey smile, she giggles at your raised brow and playful look. You can’t help but laugh with her. It’s quite literally medicine and all of a sudden you’re understanding poetry a lot better.

“That was cheesy. Especially for you. Are you high right now?” You gasp when she nods lazily, leaning down to rest her cheek on your arm. She sighs happily at the warmth against her skin, fingers tracing the creases in your palm, the scars littered on your hands and knuckles.

“Maybe a little. This food tastes extra tasty right now, and you look extra tasty right now.” She hums when you use your other hand to brush her hair out of her face, leaning down to press your lips to the messy bed of hair on her head.

“Extra? So you think I usually look average tasty?” You tease with a smirk, flexing your bicep a little when she grips onto it for leverage to sit back up a little.

“Always.” She whispers, leaning back and resting her eyes for a moment. You take that moment to glance over the healing scars on her face, the bruises fading slightly. What really makes her beautiful is her smile. That happiness on her face despite what she has just gone through...you admire her so much for that. You admire her for her heart, her hope, her gratefulness to be given another chance.

“Junk food, Romanoff?” A deep voice interrupts you from your trance. Turning around you see one of the doctors walking in with a clipboard in his hand.

“Ugh, but it’s so good!” Natasha whines as she protests, letting go of your hand to cross her arms over her chest.

“You’re really doped up, huh?” You tease as she pouts and playfully glares at you. God, she’s fucking cute. She’s not always like this, it’s obviously the drugs, but she absolutely warms your heart.

“She needs to get some rest. You can come back tomorrow morning if you’d like.” The doctor orders and you have no choice but to sigh reluctantly. That warmth lasted about a second.

“Thanks, doc. And you...behave.” You playfully glare back at her as you walk backwards to the door. Natasha rolls her eyes before biting her lip with sparkling eyes.

“No promises.”

Your one wish was to not bump into Wanda on your way back to your suite. And that’s exactly what happened. Well, not exactly. The second the door unlocked, you walked in to see her sitting on the corner of your bed looking tense. You should probably tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to remove her access to your suite. It’s not something you thought you’d ever need to do one day, but here you are, still kind of scared of letting her into your mind. Giving her free access to your room? That’s a no.

“Can we talk?” She asks hesitantly, looking up at you with doe-eyes that don’t work on you anymore. Or that’s what you’d like to think. It’s hard to resist when you’ve spent every waking moment with Wanda ever since you met her.

“We already did.” You keep your guard up, walking around the bed to put your phone on the nightstand, shoving the charger into it. You try to make yourself busy around the room, waiting for her to say something or just leave, but with nothing left to do you sigh and stand a couple steps away from her crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Wanda’s eyes glance over you as she pouts slightly. She’s clearly having a hard time, but so are you. And for the first time you two are struggling to be there for each other because you’re the causes of each other’s pain.

“I don’t know what to say.” Wanda finally speaks up, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. Her fingers grip the bed sheets anxiously and you sigh frustratedly, annoyed at yourself for the sympathy you feel for her right now. She’s the one who fucked up, yet you’re the one feeling bad for it. She was just...scared. Of losing the last person left in her life that she can trust with every ounce of her body. But trust is mutual, and she broke yours. Why should you forgive her this easily for it?

“Then why ask to talk?” You question curiously, urging her on to just spit it out. She groans, annoyed with herself for being so nervous around you all of a sudden. It’s like the two of you have gone back to strangers. But this is just how things are now. When something breaks down, you have to start again if you want to build it back up. You’re just unsure if Wanda has the patience for that.

“I-I just want to talk to you, Y/N. I miss you. I miss us.” She whispers with furrowed brows, looking up at you with hope in her eyes. All that drops when you let out a sigh and she can’t help but frown at your reaction.

“Wanda, I’ve had a long day. A long week. I can’t deal with this right now.” You express with exhaustion in your tone. But Wanda doesn't take the hint.

“But-” You roll your eyes, sitting on the bed next to her with a hand on her thigh. She chokes on her words at your touch, eyes burning your fingers. Arguing isn’t worth it. She made a mistake. Hell, you’ve made hundreds if not thousands of mistakes, ones that should never be forgiven. Wanda made one, and it’s clearly eating her up from the inside.

“Thank you for what you did, for doing your best to help me and Natasha. I’m so sorry for what you went through, I should never have agreed to splitting up. I know better.” She doesn’t let you scold yourself for that, resting her hand on top of yours quickly. Your heart leaps at the touch, goosebumps waking up all over your skin.

“That’s my fault.” Wanda tries to take the blame but you shake your head in protest, letting out a shaky, nervous breath.

“No one’s at fault but that creep.” She hums at your response, not wanting to push further as she senses the anger in your tone. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as Wanda carefully intertwines her fingers with yours. Her thumb brushes back and forth, squeezing every couple seconds like she’s scared you’ll let go.

“I’m sorry. For lying to you.” Wanda mutters, breaking the silence. You sigh in response, squeezing her hand.

“I know.” The fact that your response isn’t negative gives her an opening. She takes the opportunity to try to explain herself, but you already know why she did it. And you don’t really blame her for it. You shouldn’t blame her for it.

“I just...I have lost everything. The idea of losing you-” Her voice quivers because that idea became a reality to her. You saw how broken she was after losing Pietro and how happy she was to find someone she can depend on. To find you. You don’t have the heart to be angry anymore, not when her big eyes are pooling with tears, pouty lips trembling as she sits on the brink of breaking apart. She can’t take losing you...and you can’t take breaking her.

“But you haven’t lost me. You never will. I’m right here, okay? What we have here, this connection, this friendship, it’s important to me. It’s for life. I want to be here for you, be here with you for as long as I can...but the only way to ensure that is by keeping this friendship strong. We can’t lie to each other, Wanda. We can’t.” You reassure her, giving her that ease that she’s been needing for weeks. She lets out a relieved sigh, huffing out a watery laugh. Your hand reaches up to softly wipe a stray tear away and she immediately leans into the touch, holding onto your hand to keep it against her cheek.

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispers, keeping her eyes shut tight.

“You want more from me. I understand that more than anyone, but-” Her eyes snap open, fear filled in them again. She shakes her head with a pout, not wanting you to finish your sentence.

“It’s okay. Don’t say it. Please, just-just don’t.” Wanda begs, urges, and you hesitate before nodding, retreating your hands to awkwardly place them on your thighs.

“I-Okay. Okay, I won’t.” The last thing you want to do is break her heart. Yes, she broke yours - indirectly - but she did it because hers was breaking. You understand that there was no intent to hurt you; she was just protecting herself. If you finish that sentence, you’re actively choosing to shove the knife into her wound deeper.

“Listen, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” Wanda hesitates to bring it up, standing up and pacing a little in front of you.

“Shoot.” You give her a soft smile, leaning back on the bed to rest on your elbows.

“I want to help you.” Wanda says after pausing in her tracks, looking at you with determination.

“With?” You tilt your head in confusion, asking her to elaborate.

“I-I helped Bucky. With the mind control. It took some time but it worked. I can do it, I can help you. I know you fought against her words, but what if it happens again?” Wanda reveals. Bucky. Right. You forgot about what happened the week you went off on your mission. Bucky was still under the influence of HYDRA when you found him, but you had no clue it was Wanda that pulled him out of it. You haven’t seen him around the compound at all, which makes you wonder if S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to recruit him to the team or not. While it is pretty impressive of Wanda to pull him out, you’re still unsure if you can trust her in your mind again. Even an ounce of hesitance is enough reason to not go through with it. You can’t let her into your mind until you completely trust her. 

“I’m not sure about that, Wanda.” She drops down in front of you on her knees, holding onto your hands. It forces your eyes to lock to hers and she’s in full vulnerability mode with her inviting eyes and that soft smile on her lips.

“I know you don’t trust me, which is why we can do it downstairs in the lab with everyone around. Or whoever you are comfortable with. I will not do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Wanda reassures with a squeeze of your hand. You sigh, releasing a hand from hers to pinch the space between your eyes. Your head is pounding and you know it’s from the lack of sleep. Having to make a huge decision like this isn’t helping your stress.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. I just wanted to at least offer.” Wanda gives you a gentle smile, clearing her throat as she rises up to her feet.

“Thank you. For the offer.” She nods, holding her hands together behind her back.

“Anytime. Take all the time you need.” She says before making her way out of the room, shutting the door gently on her way out. The second you lay your head down on the pillow, your body feels cold, like something’s missing. Wanda’s warm body cuddled against yours? Or Natasha’s? Maybe Wanda was right. Having an intense intimate friendship and a relationship isn’t an issue, but when it’s all under the same roof? You can’t be sure who you want to cuddle up to, who you want to have dinner with, who you want to sit and watch a movie with. And Bertha...well, Bertha made you choose. Choosing one broke the other.

Functioning on yet another night without sleep, you’re up bright and early in a surprisingly good mood. Natasha’s up, so that’s a huge weight off your shoulders, and all you want to do is spend the day with her. After a quick shower, you decide to actually make an effort in your outfit today, passing up your desire to wear oversized comfy sweats. Sifting through your wardrobe, you pull out a maroon tee and high waisted black trousers. The suspenders add a nice touch to it. It’s obviously inspired by the way S.H.I.E.L.D. styled you for your role as Reagan Rushman, the hipster book seller. Nat seemed to like the way your clothes fitted on you - despite her playful teasing of your ‘weird’ outfit choices - so you know the outfit will peak her interest.

“You won’t believe me that I love you only…” You sing along quietly to the song playing through your AirPods. One thing you missed while under HYDRA’s control was music. Your music from your time, your childhood, your life before it was taken away from you. To be frozen while the world goes on around you, waking up a decade later to huge advancements in the world including in arts, music, literature...it was overwhelming, and frankly a pain to catch up on.

Now there’s Spotify. And it’s by far your favourite app thingy on your phone. There are collections and playlists of your favourite songs from the 1920s, the 30s, all throughout the decades really. But this song, Love Me Or Leave Me, has always stuck by you. You used to listen to it when it first came out dreaming of a love you never had, a playful love, challenging, but unconditional. You were only 11 but your mother used to sing it around the house, sending teasing smiles to your father. That’s the love you wanted. There was the Doris Day version in the 50s, and you remember watching the musical and running out, overwhelmed by the memories of your past. But agents were behind you as you stumbled into an alleyway, wiping you from your memories before you had the chance to defend yourself against them. You prefer the original.

“What do I put…” You mumble to yourself, looking through the cabinet to pick out seasoning. You remember Nat telling you; salt, pepper, chilli flakes, lime, and-and you cut her off. And she never really finished telling you. Well, that’ll have to do for now.

“Avocados? They’re green.” Wanda’s voice startles you, speaking up just as the song ends. You quickly pause before the next one starts, turning around with a fork in your hand covered in mashed up green. She’s watching you curiously, head tilted with squinted eyes. Her hair’s a mess - it’s going to take a while to get used to the ginger if you’re being honest - tied up into a messy bun at the top of her head.

“I-Yeah. Well, Nat-well, she likes them. And they’re not that bad, actually. If you season them. Well, if she seasons them. I don’t know what I’m doing, really.” You stutter, cheeks heating up a little at getting caught doing something like this for Natasha. It’s a little intimate, and you just realised that Wanda doesn’t actually know if anything happened between the two of you. No one in the team knows unless Natasha told someone. Well, what exactly is going on? You don’t really know yourself and it’s not the time to ask Nat for clarification.

“That is nice of you.” Wanda murmurs, clearing her throat a little as she crosses her arms over her chest tightly. The hoodie she’s wearing rises up a little, exposing her lower abs. Abs? Since when? Jesus, you weren’t prepared for that. You quickly turn back around before she notices you staring. Cracking two eggs separately in the pan of hot oil, your breath hitches a little when Wanda walks by behind you, brushing against you slightly.

“You slept well?” You ask, keeping the conversation casual because the tension is literally killing you right now. She opens the fridge with a sigh, yawning and rubbing her eyes hard. “Is that a no?” You huff in amusement at her tired expression. She pulls out the carton of milk, turning to look at you with a slight pout on her lips. You find yourself smiling a little at her expression.

“No-uh, couldn’t stop thinking about…” Wanda trails on, clearing her throat so she doesn’t have to say her name.

“Meyer.” You say it instead and Wanda nods hesitantly. She pours herself some Cherrios into a bowl, adding the milk after. The only way to make cereal correctly. “I’m really sorry I let that happen to you.” You apologise with a frown. You won’t be forgiving yourself for that for a while, despite the fact that Wanda probably forgave you before it even happened. Part of her knew the risks of splitting up. And she also knew you’d blame yourself if anything happened.

“You did not ‘let’ anything happen, Y/N. You tried, and we got out of it. It happened.” Wanda reassures you with a soft smile, resting a hand on yours. You sigh, turning the heat off before the eggs end up burning. The toast pops up at the exact right moment, pulling you away from Wanda’s touch.

“I know. I’m still sorry.” You say casually, clearing your throat and pulling the toast out. 

“Don’t be.” Wanda replies, leaning against the counter as she watches you. You precisely place toast on each plate, making sure there’s an even spread of avocado on both slices. Well, not exactly even; you give Natasha more because you still don’t really like avocados that much. Only when Nat does it. “She’s influenced you.” Wanda observes, ignoring her cereal going soggy at this point from her negligence. She can’t keep her eyes off you and your new... enthusiasm for green veggies. You used to hate it, practically on the verge of throwing the plate in the trash whenever Wanda made you eat salad. You used to eat it anyway for her, but you’d grab food right after. Now? Now you’re actively choosing to cook for Natasha and eat with her, despite your hatred for veggies. Wanda hates the domesticity of it all.

“Huh?” You mumble, placing the eggs on top with a grin. Grabbing the salt and pepper grinders, you grind a little on top of both and then place them on the kitchen island behind you with a proud smile at yourself. You turn to look at Wanda, giving her your attention, but the grin falls off your face at her frown.

“Natasha. She’s influenced you. More than I ever did.” Wanda mumbles, a little annoyed at herself for being jealous about it. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. This is what she was scared of.

“Hey, that’s not true.” You offer your comfort, stepping forward to her, but she pushes herself off the counter just to step back from you. The last thing she wants right now is your sympathy.

“It is.” She turns her head away from your gaze as you frown at her. It’s like walking on damn eggshells around her these days. Or anyone for that matter. All you seem to be doing is upsetting everyone, hurting everyone; you weren’t seriously considering leaving the team but perhaps it’s an option that requires deeper evaluation. You think for a moment before deciding honesty would be the best way to get her to listen to you.

“You know, I never used to share my food? Like, never. And then I met you and everything that’s mine became yours.” You give her a soft smile when she turns her head back slowly to look at you. With a slightly raised brow and a cautious expression, she hesitantly bites her bottom lip.

“Really?” Wanda asks for validation and you have so many more examples to give. She really did change you without you even realising exactly how much until now. You decide to risk it and take a step closer to her, cheering on the inside when she doesn’t move away from you.

“And I hated intimacy, and hugs...and cuddles.” Wanda gasps in shock at that, wide eyes looking at you with disbelief. In all fairness, the two of you have been basically glued at the hip since you had your first deep conversation. “I know! I know, it’s hard to believe but I was, like, scared of it all. Being held captive and treated like a robot made me think I didn’t deserve any of it. But you held my hand, and you rested your head on my shoulder that night I came into your room when we agreed on our Wednesdays. And I thought ‘maybe this isn’t so bad.’” Bearing your soul to her seems to do the job. The small hint of a smile on her lips is definitely worth it all though. Slowly, Wanda drops her arms, hands hiding in the sleeves of her oversized hoodie.

“I-I get defensive. But then latch on when I trust someone.” She opens up a little about herself, and you already know that but you’re glad the two of you seem to be on the same page about this. Starting fresh. Getting to know each other without her presence in your mind, without the manipulation and the lies.

“Oh, I know. You’re like a koala.” You snort playfully with a wide smirk when she narrows her eyes at you.

“Hey!” Wanda slaps your bicep softly, struggling to hold back her laughter at your exaggerated expression of pain.

“They’re cute.” You elaborate, defending your accurate comparison. Wanda goes quiet for a moment when you turn back to the food, deciding to just bring the jug of orange juice instead of filling up glasses. Easier to carry down.

“Do you really think I’m cute?” She says in a quiet voice and you freeze in your spot, mind flashing back to Wanda on your lap with her hands draped over your shoulder. She whispered “Do you really think I’m intoxicating?” just loud enough for you to hear in a voice so raspy, so fucking seductive. Her accent was thicker then. And that realisation pulls you out of your little daydream, realising how much she’s changed. She’s not the person you knew, and neither are you the person she knew. From scratch; that’s the best way to go about this.

“You know you’re cute.” You tease, clearing your throat as you hold the handle of the jug with two fingers, balancing a plate in each hand. “I hope Nat’s-” Walking around the kitchen island, you stop in your tracks when you look down the archway into the hallway. All you need to see is his back and you already know who it is. Black hair turning grey, a grey suit that looks like it’s been worn for years, and when he turns to face the door, Natasha’s door, you see his glasses.

“Y/N, is everything-Oh.” Wanda comes over to you, a little concerned at the look on your face. She can’t place it, can’t figure out the mix of emotion there, but when she sees Bruce she figures it all out. Frustration? Jealousy? Sadness? Even pure rage makes an appearance in your eyes.

“Um. Hello.” Bruce speaks up after clearing his throat, catching your eyes on him. “I came as soon-”

“She’s still in medical.” You interrupt him quickly, spinning on your heel thinking you’re doing the right thing by guiding him to her. He came back for her. And...and they were still kind of together when the two of you left. It’s only right that they at least have a conversation about it. But if what you’re doing is the right thing, why is your blood boiling through your veins right now?

“Y/N…” Wanda speaks up behind you, cringing a little when you put your plate down and not so gently drop the other on the opposite side. The plate spins loudly, grinding harshly against the concrete material before coming to a stop.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure?” He asks in a cautious tone, blue eyes staring you down as he tries to decipher your feelings. Hopping from one foot to the other, you shake your hands to awaken your muscles, getting ready to fight. After everything you’ve been through, he’s bound to be worried about you, thinking you should be resting up instead of diving back into training. But you need the distraction.

“Let’s go.” You demand, holding your fists up, one leg in front of the other as you get into an offensive stance. Steve sighs, mirroring your movements. He’s reluctant, knowing sparring is probably the last thing you should be doing right now, but you’re persistent to say the least. And he’s the only one you can fight without seriously injuring - in sparring, that is.

“This isn’t healthy.” Steve grunts, surprising you with a quick combo, but you’re equally fast in defending yourself. Taking a quick step back, you kick his knee and then his side when he drops down a little at the slight ache.

“When have I ever been healthy?” You huff out, attempting to go for a kick to the head, but he grabs your foot, flipping you in the air. You land on your back with a grunt but speedily twirl up to your feet, slapping away his fists rapidly coming for your face.

“You were at some point. Until-” He grunts when you find an opening, kicking him in the chest with the heel of your foot. Steve stumbles back a couple of steps and you take that chance to run towards him, jumping up with a knee to his chin. His open palms link together to protect his face from your attacks for a moment until he shoves you away from him. Your feet slide across the padded floors, harsh nails scratching the soft surface.

“Until?” You elaborate with a teasing smirk to which he rolls his eyes at with a chuckle. He’s going easy on you, but seeing your playfulness and cockiness triggers him into what you like to call ‘Captain Mode’. Running at you, Steve fakes a jab just to go in with a hook to your ribs. You jump back slightly but reply with a combo to his side, ending with a quick jab to the face, knocking his head back a little. His head bounces back quickly as he slowly gets more frustrated, throwing a little carelessly now only wanting to knock you down. But you’re composed right now because all you needed was something to focus on. Just one thing.

“Until you found love.” Steve suddenly replies, carrying on from what he was talking about. His answer catches you off guard a little. Steve takes that chance to kick your knee making you drop down to one which leaves you vulnerable for his uppercut to your chin. You fall back with a groan at the ache. It’ll heal in seconds, but he’s a dickhead for that.

“Asshole.” You grumble playfully when he appears above you, holding his hand out to help you up. Gripping his helping hand, you stand up and get into another stance. But Steve raises a brow at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Come on.” You urge with furrowed brows, eager to fight again, faking a couple jabs to his face as he dodges them with quick head movements.

“Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Steve accuses but you refuse to drop your raised fists. You aim for his face again but his hand comes up and holds your fist, stopping you in your tracks. “Seriously, Y/N?” You sigh in response to his pressing tone and disappointed gaze.

“Can we just spar? Please?” You beg, but Steve doesn’t listen. Instead, he drops down to sit on the padded floors with his legs crossed together. Looking up at you, he urges you to do the same, patting the floor. You’re both more comfortable on the ground anyway, so you mirror his position, taking in a deep breath when he does the same.

“When I was...the person I used to be before the serum, I stayed away from love because of my fear of rejection.” Steve starts, keeping his eyes closed as he reveals his deep feelings. You watch his features carefully; his throat moves as he gulps a little, lips stretched into a neutral but relaxed expression. “Then I met Peggy. And she loved me for me. Before the serum, before I became Captain America. And I chose saving the world instead of love. Because it was the right thing to do...but also because I was scared of love.” He chuckles a little at the end, sounding a little...resentful? You typically see Steve as the golden boy, the team leader there for anyone who needs him, putting his life on the line over and over again because he’s Captain America. It’s literally in his name; his title and the country he has sworn to protect. “And then, I wake up 70 years later to a country that I don’t recognise, people I don’t know, to everyone that I do know either dead or on the brink of it. So...I then stayed away from love because I was at war with my mind. It’s my war to fight. Letting anyone else in will only bring them pain.” You stay quiet, knowing you’re guilty for bringing Wanda pain by letting her into your mind, letting her practically live there for months. “You have to ask yourself...are you at war with your mind? And whoever you choose to let in...can they fight that war with you, or will it only lead to suffering?” He’s making a good point, but he’s directly targeting your... thing with Wanda. And you’re not ready to deal with that yet because holy fuck you’re forever going to be confused about her at this point. But then there’s Natasha. And you think she’s more than capable of fighting your war with you. But does that mean Wanda couldn’t eventually be capable of that too?

“So, what you’re essentially telling me to do is work on myself? Cliché.” You let out a soft laugh at his confused expression when his cheeks tint pink.

“I-Well, yes. But it’s different for us, Y/N. Even more different for you.” Steve shakes his head, reasoning with you. You sigh at him, letting him know you’re just teasing him. You don’t really want to have this conversation, but it’s obvious that Steve thinks you need to. And he’s almost always right.

“I know, I know.” He ignores your reluctance as you glance to the door, thinking you’d probably make it if you run. But he’s quick to carry on with his advice, forcing your attention back to him.

“Violence, sparring, working out until you’re on the brink of dropping in exhaustion...that’s deflecting. It’s, uh, what’s the word? My therapist was telling me about it.” You tilt your head in confusion, watching his furrowed brows twitching as he ponders. “Oh! Toxic masculinity!” He enthusiastically exclaims with a proud grin on his face. You can’t help but snort at that, amusedly shaking your head at him.

“I’m not a man, Steve.” You say playfully. This only gives him another opening to show off his new and advanced mentality. He’s kind of adorable sometimes.

“Ah! Another thing she taught me; ‘masculine’ can apply to both-I mean, all genders. Your violence and your avoidance of your emotions is because of the way you’ve been conditioned. You’re scared of speaking about your feelings because you were told they make you weak. That falls into the branch of toxic masculinity.” His tone is enthusiastic, but his words sound like they’re spoken out of a textbook. If you squint, you can imagine him as a teacher. Well, perhaps in another life. Or an alternate version of him.

“So woke.” You tease with a roll of your eyes. Steve frustratedly sighs at you, pinching your exposed thigh to scold you. You yelp, glaring at him for that.

“Stop messing around. I’m trying to help you here.” He says in a desperate tone, a little disappointed at your childish behaviour. You sigh and nod your head, stretching your back a little to get ready to open up. Why is this so hard? You trust him more than most people on this team, yet the idea of spilling your heart to him is kind of...terrifying.

“I know, sorry.” You give him a sincere smile before clearing your throat. You might as well be honest knowing he won’t judge you. He’ll listen and help in the best way he can. “Can I tell you something?” Steve gives you a soft smile, happy that you’re finally dropping the attitude and being open with him.

“Of course you can.”

“I’m in love with Natasha.” You let out in one breath, eyes on your lap instead of Steve. You wait in silence, looking up with a confused expression when he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, we all know that. It’s pretty obvious.” He teases and you groan in annoyance. Tony did say it when you first landed back at the compound after your night in jail, but you don’t know who really knows the extent of your feelings. A crush is one thing, but love? You haven’t even told Natasha that yet.

“Fuck my life. Well, it seemed to be obvious to everyone but her. Did you know she had feelings for me too?” You hesitate to ask. If he had known, it would be a betrayal, and of course it’ll hurt, but since he didn’t know the extent of your pain from it you’d let him off. Either way, it would be nowhere near the level of Wanda’s betrayal.

“What? No, I had no clue.” Steve answers, brows raised and mouth hung open in shock.

“Well, she told me back in New Orleans. And, of course, I don’t kiss and tell.” You can’t hide the grin on your face so Steve infers that something did happen between the two of you. He gives you a huff of laughter and a smirk, hand raised for a high five.

“Nice.” He mumbles but you ignore him with a raised brow, waiting for him to drop his hand. Toxic masculinity, huh?

“Shut up. So, uh, anyway. She told me that...Wanda knew. She knew Nat felt the same way about me.” You reveal in a shaky tone to which Steve visibly cringes at.

“Oh.” His expression scrunches up into a sympathetic one and you don’t like it but you push past it because you do need to let this out. Who else can you trust?

“And Wanda didn’t tell me. She-She let me suffer for weeks because-” Steve interrupts, defending Wanda in a way.

“Because she was scared of rejection. Scared of losing you.” He reasons, and you do agree with him, but that doesn’t make it all okay. It’s not something you’re going to get over quickly, and part of you wants it over quickly because you fucking miss her. You miss having her in your arms and clinging to your side all the time. You miss going to bed with her, watching sitcoms, waking up with her fast asleep in your arms. You miss having lunch with her while she glares at you for not eating your salads. She’s your best friend before anything else. And of course it’s hard to divert whatever feelings you may have for her away, and you thought you’d get over that soon enough as long as you have Natasha. But now? Now Bruce is back. And you don’t know what that means for them, and you don’t know what that means for you.

“I know, I know, but she still lied to me. She hurt me, like, deeply. I’m the one who let her into my head, Steve. My fucking head.” You emphasise, sighing to keep yourself calm. Running a hand through your locks, you stare up at the high ceilings, the spotlights, remembering the way Wanda always pulled you away from those dark memories anytime you thought of the creaking lightbulb. She was always in your head, and most of the time it was to protect you. Does that one time she lied erase all the good she’s done for you?

“I understand how difficult that must have been.” Steve says understandingly with a nod, and you’re expecting a ‘but’ so you interrupt before he can add anything else. You’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive her just yet. You’re definitely on your way there, but there’s still tension between the two of you. And the dynamic? It’s all shifted so much it’s slightly making you uncomfortable. You’re not great with big changes and this is months of a close friendship that you have to fix now.

“Difficult.” You huff out in annoyance. “Everything has been fucking difficult. When do I get to have one easy thing? Just one. When do I get my happy ending?” You exclaim, falling back to lay on the padded floors. You lay your head against your outstretched hands intertwined behind your head.

“That’s the same question I ask myself every single day. The answer is endurance. Patience. And your time will come.” Steve optimistically says, laying back too with a content sigh. With his feet near your head and yours near his, you kick his head playfully. He chuckles, slapping your foot away.

“102 years seems like a long time to wait.” You sigh. 102 years on this planet. Most of them lost, frozen in time. Sometimes you feel immortal, and honestly you don’t actually know if you are or aren’t. You’re constantly healing, your bones heal, you can’t kill yourself you already know that doesn’t work, so will old age take you? Can time take you or is the universe cruel enough to make you more powerful than time itself? Cruel enough to make you love someone who is bound to die, someone you have to watch die.

“That just means your happy ending will be happier than most.” Steve says with hope in his voice and you know that’s what he’s been telling himself ever since he came out of the ice. He wants his promised dance with Peggy, his happy ending. What would your happy ending be? Does it have to be love? Romance? Can it be friendship? Can it be laying on the sand and looking across the ocean, Wanda to your left, Nat to your right, Clint and Steve ahead of you diving into the water. That’s just selfish, because that’s your happy ending, not theirs. You don’t really want to go on without any of them, but Steve? All Steve has been thinking about is ending this war. And as long as he’s a captain, his war can’t end. But like Plato said, like Bertha said...only the dead have seen the end of war. Perhaps he believes his happy ending is being with Peggy in the clouds.

“You’re very optimistic. It’s gross.” You tease, smacking his leg with your hand.

“You’d most likely be dead in a ditch without me.” Steve chuckles, sitting up to look down at you. You raise a brow before sighing and sitting up too, taking his helping hand.

“True. Very true.” He gives you a soft smile when he sees your glossy eyes. You blink it all away and pat him on the back as you stand up. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Anytime.” He follows your movements as you get ready to spar again, stretching your arms and legs. Just as he gets ready to attack, his phone goes off. Rushing to the bench, he picks it up, reading the text with a frown. “It’s Fury.”

You figured it’d just be a normal meeting, perhaps one to catch everyone up on the situation with Meyer. Instead, you and Steve walk into the meeting room filled with the entire team, Fury, Maria, and...Ross. That’s unexpected. The room goes silent when you walk in, all eyes turning to burn into your skin. You scan the room and find Nat sitting in the back. But the smile falls off your face when you see Bruce right next to her, way too close for ‘friendly’. His eyes turn dark when they land on you but he looks down, breaking away from your glare that could kill him on the spot. With Steve taking the seat next to Clint, you have to go sit in the empty chair next to Wanda. With a sigh, you sit down, looking ahead at Bruce who’s opposite you. He’s still wearing the same suit, hair ruffled a little, stubble growing out on his face. The glare on your face remains on him and sure, you’re being childish, but who gives a fuck? You can’t stand him, not when he’s one of the reasons Natasha didn’t make a move on you earlier. Not when he might be the reason the two of you can’t go further than you have. But Wanda’s hand brushes against yours on top of the table, instantly calming you down. You send her a small, grateful smile as she fits her fingers between yours.

You don’t really pay attention to what Ross is talking about as he rambles on about his golf story and how it taught him about perspective. You don’t listen in when you see Natasha’s lips moving, or when he calls your team ‘vigilantes’. But what you can’t ignore is the screams on the screen that plays a moment later.

“New York.” He says, showing a clip of the Hulk jumping from building to building, destroying property, striking fear in the hearts of the people below him. “Washington D.C.” The screen changes to a helicarrier dropping over the city. Natasha and Steve look away from the screen with a sigh and it’s then that you notice Bucky sitting in the corner of the room on the floor, knees to his chest watching the screen with pain in his eyes. Not everyone can see that look, but you can. You understand the guilt when it’s something you did but with no control over it. “Sokovia.” You don’t look at the screen this time, but at Wanda who tears her eyes away from watching her home being destroyed by Ultron and the very people sitting around the table. You squeeze her hand to comfort her and she shuffles her chair a little closer to you, hesitating before resting her head on your shoulder.

“You okay?” You whisper, your chin on top of her head. The sigh she gives you is enough of an answer that she’ll be okay.

“As for enhanced individuals…” Ross trails on, eyes landing on yours with anger in them. The screen changes to an image of...of Rebecca laying on the floor of her house, head completely crushed.

“That-That wasn’t me.” Your voice cracks a little so you clear it, shuffling in your seat. Wanda sits back up, letting go of your hand when she senses your discomfort.

“Really? And these weren’t you either?” The screen changes into a slideshow, victims of your violence, of HYDRA’s mind control over you. You gulp in horror at the sheer amount of people, lives, families destroyed by you. With a gentle hand, Wanda forces your face away from the screen and to her eyes. She shakes her head softly, telling you it’s not your fault, but you know it is. How are you supposed to just move on and say ‘that wasn’t me’ when it’s blood on your hands?

“Okay, that’s enough.” Steve interrupts in your defence, arms crossed over his chest. Ross looks around the room to see everyone with frustrated and guilt-ridden expressions, so he clears his throat and gets to the point.

“For the past four years you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate.” Ross begins with his speech, addressing all of you this time instead of just you. He looks around before turning and grabbing a huge booklet. “But I think we have a solution.” He drops it heavily on the table, causing it to rattle and shake.

“What-” Steve starts, asking for elaboration but Ross interrupts him with a glare. Clearly trying to establish his dominance, he shuts Steve down. He’s the one in charge here.

“The Sokovia Accords.” He pushes it towards Wanda who picks it up with somewhat of a shocked and annoyed look on her face. Rhodey indicates for her to pass it to him and she does so quickly, not even wanting to read a word of it. She’s already disagreeing just from what she can infer. “Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organisation.” Everyone glances around at each other cautiously. You catch Natasha’s gaze, her eyes glued to Wanda’s fingers drawing circles over the back of your hand as it rests on the table. “Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” You tune out after that, already deciding it’s probably best for you to stay silent during this meeting. There’s clear tension between you and Ross; you already know he’s been threatening to take you in. If you protest, you’re sure he wouldn’t hesitate.

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a better place. I feel we’ve done that.” Steve says cautiously, making sure his tone isn’t overstepping.

“Tell me, Captain, do the people of New Orleans feel safe knowing Crusher was living among them, hiding from them, and killed one of their own?” Ross addresses Steve, but his eyes are on you, challenging you, trying to entice a reaction out of you. But you won’t prove his point.

“That wasn’t me.” You calmly respond, pulling your hand away from Wanda, suddenly feeling sensitive with every touch, every sound; even the lights are a little too bright now. Mia was enthusiastic about your presence, but now that you think back, when you looked around most people looked worried, cautious, scared even. You went to save them, but you turned their worlds upside down instead. Their beloved Nanny Bertha turned out to be a HYDRA maniac, and you’re the one that uncovered it and burst their bubble. Maybe they were happier living in ignorance, creating the perfect fake utopia. Some people don’t want to live in the real world; you’ve definitely felt that way before.

“You’re lucky I haven’t dragged you to the raft yet.” Ross exclaims angrily, fist smashing against the table. It echoes around the room and you can’t look into his eyes. You stare down at your lap with a clenched jaw, and Maria attempts to come to your defence this time.

“General, I think-” She starts, but he interrupts her, voice roaring at this point.

“Frankly, I don’t care what you think, Deputy. Is it not true that you instructed Crusher to abandon the mission?” He accuses, more stating than asking. She sighs a moment, answering truthfully.

“Yes, sir.” Maria begrudgingly answers. Looking up, your eyes catch Natasha’s who is clearly trying to get your attention. She tilts her head a little, giving you a soft smile. Her lips move as she mouths ‘you okay?’. You give her a nod and grateful smile, but you can feel Bruce’s eyes glaring into your cheek. You don’t pay him mind, sighing and looking back down. You feel like you’re a fucking child getting told off right now with all the eyes on you.

“Yet she directly disobeyed you.”

“I-Sir, she simply asked for another chance.” Maria clears her throat, trying to defend you.

“And you gave it. It was the wrong decision, Deputy. Letting these... vigilantes roam freely with unstable minds is-” Ross’s voice gets a little louder, a little angrier, tone almost filled with disgust. This time it’s Natasha who can’t control herself.

“She saved me. She saved Wanda, and found Bertha Meyer and took her down. She’s a hero.” Nat defends you, praises you with a defiant raised brow at Ross. Your lips tug up a little at that, smirking cockily when you see Bruce’s face scrunched up in anger and jealousy. His hands grip the edge of the table hard, but he’s not strong enough as Bruce for it to break. You almost scoff at him, but you contain yourself, clearing your throat.

“She’s dangerous.” Ross declares. “ He’s dangerous.” He points to Bucky sitting in the back who buries his face in his arms currently hugging his knees. “Even you’re dangerous, Captain.” He addresses Steve, pointing out all the Super-Soldiers in the room. These accords are clearly targeting you. To say it plainly, it’s fucking unfair, especially on you and Bucky. Neither of you had a choice in all of this. Steve volunteered for the serum while you and Bucky were experimented on, tortured, forced to work under the control of vile organisations and even nastier people. “ All of you. The Avengers need to be controlled. You need to respond to a higher authority. Believe me; this is the middle ground.” Ross sighs as he steps back, getting a hold of himself.

“So, there are contingencies.” Rhodey says, sifting through the booklet.

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” Steve turns to look at Tony who can’t even meet his gaze. He looks down, somewhat ashamed, somewhat guilty even. You already know he was directly involved in this mess. Your blood boils in anger at him. Yes, he was angry at you, perhaps rightfully so, but to take it this far? This directly harms the entire team, his supposed ‘family’.

“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Natasha asks rebelliously as Ross walks away. He stops, turning around to look directly at her with both brows raised.

“Then you retire.”

Retire. Is that really so bad? Wanda was strongly against Ross’s accords from what you could tell, and Steve’s yelling made you leave the meeting room because you didn’t want to be involved in the arguments. That’s two against it. And you assume Natasha too, considering she stood up for you back there. But are you against it? Of course, you don’t agree with the words he used, the implication being that you’ll have little to no freedom under the ‘control’ of a higher authority. But if you retire...you’ll be free. Maybe you could find the happy ending you’ve always wanted.

Could you leave the team? Have you been redeemed yet? You have no fucking clue, but clearly you’re not in your right mind to be able to fight, especially if it’s life or death. You haven’t been with the Avengers for long, only since Sokovia, but honestly you’re not sure if you can take that kind of pressure. Steve deserves his ending, but you know he’s not ready yet; he’ll fight this, fight Ross, fight the accords. He always fights for freedom. Wanda’s just starting to redeem herself. Despite the guilt she feels, you’re sure she’s not ready to retire just yet. Her life is just beginning; she barely understands her powers. Natasha...you’re actually not entirely sure about that. You know she’s been fighting for her whole life, and maybe she’s ready, or maybe she feels that she hasn’t redeemed herself unless she fights till the end.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your day dreaming. You turn the TV volume down and sigh as you make your way to the door.

“Y/N?” You hear Nat’s soft voice before you open the door but that’s enough for you to quickly pull the handle. Her breath hitches a little when she sees you, a content expression on her face. “Hi.” Nat whispers, clearing her throat, a little surprised at how hoarse her voice sounds. You let out a huff, opening the door wider to let her in.

“Hey. Everything okay?” You ask when you shut the door and she immediately wraps her arms around your waist, burying her face in your chest. Your hands brush through her locks as you sigh deeply, feeling every muscle in your body relax. You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there with Natasha’s hands gripping your skin tightly and your fingers running up and down her spine. But you could stand like that for the rest of your life.

“They sent me to bring you out for dinner.” Natasha whispers against your chest, pulling away a little. Her hands rest on your hips, looking up into your eyes and you can’t help but grin at how short she is. She’s got to go up on her tiptoes just to kiss you, but that’s not what she does right now. You frown when she pulls away from you to clear her throat and open the door. “Coming?” She asks, looking over her shoulder as she walks out. Why the hell is this so confusing? One minute she’s all over you and the next she just pulls away?

“What’s for dinner?” You ask loudly with a wide grin, your hand coming down to pat Steve’s back. The smell of meat and cheese fills your senses and you can already guess what it is. Your absolute favourite. “Lasagne. Fuck yeah.” You exaggerate with a clap, helping set out the plates. Tony stays quiet, already sitting in his seat at the head of the table.

“Your favourite.” Wanda says playfully with wiggling brows. You let out a chuckle at that, coming up behind her to grab the plates. Her body’s warm against yours and you can feel her shifting back a little, pressing up against your warmth.

“Well...it’s meat. And cheese. And pasta. The best food that this Earth has to offer.” You whisper into her ear, leaning away with a chuckle. Placing the plates around the table. The one you drop in front of Tony clatters, spinning around until his hand comes down to stop it. He glares up at you and you glare right back. You weren’t incredibly close to him before all this happened, but you thought you were friends. Clearly not. Everyone else seems to have forgiven you but him. Why can’t he understand what you went through? You figured he would, considering how much death is on his hands.

“Debatable. Paprikash is pretty amazing.” Wanda argues, taking a seat. You don’t really understand why the fuck Vision sits next to her as if he’s going to eat anything. You claim your seat next to Natasha instead and notice Wanda’s slight frown at that.

“Only when you make it.” You give her a soft smile and her cheeks tint pink a little, looking down at her lap with a smile. The only time you’ve had paprikash is when she’s made it, but you’re 100 percent sure if you have it anywhere else you’d only compare it to hers. 

“Help yourselves.” Steve says as he puts two large trays of lasagne in the middle of the table. Nat immediately stands up from her chair, taking the knife and cutting through it, sectioning it into pieces. One thing you love about her is how big her heart is. Nat’s always taking care of everyone. It doesn't have to be big and obvious, but small and subtle things; she picks up after everyone, cleans up their messes, washes the dishes, makes sure everyone is okay after a mission or training. And, of course, makes sure everyone has been served food before she puts a piece on her plate. Wanda stands up to do the same, placing a little salad and potatoes on everyone’s plate. “Thank you.” Steve gives them both grateful smiles, taking a bite of his food.

“You’re welcome.” Natasha responds as everyone gives a mumbled or quiet thanks. She sits down and looks over at your plate while you look at hers. In sync, she takes the salad off your plate and puts it on her own, swapping it with the potatoes to give you extra, while you switch the diet coke on your side with the regular coke on hers. Wanda watches the little domestic act with clenched jaw, staring down at her lap when you turn to give Nat a thankful smile after chuckling a little at the act.

“Thanks, love.” You mumble, freezing at your little slip up. Bruce clears his throat from his seat by Natasha’s right, letting you know that he heard. Your fists tighten around your fork, closing your eyes as you breathe deeply to keep yourself calm. God, you just want to punch his stupid face in. “You feeling better?” You ask Natasha, realising you haven’t asked why she’s even out of bed.

“Much. I healed pretty quickly, it’s just my head that starts spinning every few hours.” You frown a little at her, resting your hand on her thigh under the table, rubbing circles with your fingers. She sighs at the touch, leaning back in her chair looking at you with a soft smile. God, you want to kiss her so fucking bad. But here she is with Bruce by her side, his angry eyes glaring holes into you. What the fuck does she want from you? You retreat your hand when Bruce takes Natasha’s hand in his own, holding it on top of the table.

“I’m glad you’re doing better, Romanoff.” Steve says, eyeing Tony who nods in agreement. Everyone eats in tense silence until Tony finally speaks up, his fork clattering against the plate as he drops it. He tells the Charles Spencer story you’ve already heard, reminding everyone that the people hurt in the process are not collateral damage, but real people with real lives and real families that are haunted by what the Avengers have done.

“There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check. Whatever that form takes, I’m game. If we go by our own rules with no boundaries, we’re no better than the bad guys.” He stands up to make his point clearer, making everyone move their eyes with him as he takes his dirty dishes into the kitchen. They clank against the metal as he drops them into the sink. He makes a solid point about boundaries, and if you think about it all of you are ‘bad guys’ to at least one person out there suffering. Charles Spencer’s mother sees Tony and this team as a group of vigilantes. Where exactly is the line drawn?

“Tony. If someone dies on your watch, you don’t just give up.” Steve sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony rebuttals quickly, leaning against the counter with his hands dug into the pockets of his suit pants.

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.” Steve reasons and it seems like heads are just turning from him to Tony until Rhodey scoffs, gaining everyone’s attention. Everyone slowly starts shifting from the dining table to the small open seating/living area next to the kitchen island, taking turns to place their dishes away.

“I’m sorry, Steve, but that is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey interrupts. Everyone’s heads snap to him as he expresses his viewpoint. “This is the UN we’re talking about. Not S.H.I.E.L.D., not HYDRA.” He makes a solid point, but people are still people who are subjective and vulnerable to change.

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” You interrupt, giving your input. Tony rolls his eyes at you, walking towards you with his arms open wide.

“Which is good. My agenda changed when I realised what my weapons were being used for, so I made a good change.” He pulls the same card he always does, trying to prove his change, his goodness, his heroism. God, you can’t stand his ego.

“Stark, you chose to do that. By signing this document, we surrender our right to choose.” You argue and before Tony can argue back, Steve interrupts.

“What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t want to go? If there’s somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us?” Steve reasons and everyone nods, understanding where he’s coming from. But Tony and Rhodey still keep their hard expressions, set in their ways, siding with the government.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s going to be done to us later. That won’t be pretty.” He looks at you when he says that and you shift uncomfortably, knowing Ross was targeting you and Bucky when he made his little speech.

“Are you saying they’ll come for me?” You say in a quiet voice, leaning forward to rest your forearms on your legs.

“We would protect you.” Wanda speaks up in your defence quickly, giving you reassuring eyes when you glance over at her. You keep your eyes locked for a moment, everyone going silent knowing Wanda’s risking being taken and locked up again with what she’s implying. They can bring an army and she’ll burn out all her power just to keep them away from you. The ‘we’ is really an ‘I’. Everyone can sense the tension between the two of you as you look at each other with intense gazes.

“Maybe Tony’s right.” Your head snaps to the side at her voice. The absolute last person you would have expected to be on Tony’s side is Natasha. She shocks you with her viewpoint and you’re not bothering to hide the hurt expression on your face. She looks at you with a sympathetic look, already trying to reason with you and explain her choice. “With one hand on the wheel, we can still steer-” 

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam scoffs, interrupting her. She sighs in response, eyes still on you hoping you’d understand, pleading for you to just listen to her. But you can’t help feeling a little betrayed. First, Bruce is back following her like a fucking puppy again and she hasn’t explained anything to you, hasn’t made the time to just talk to you and let you know where you stand. And now she’s supporting the documents that were made to control you and take your freedom away? Like HYDRA? Treating you like you’re a fucking uncontrollable monster again?

“Look, we have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.” Natasha adds, determined to defend herself. She knows trust is important to you and losing the trust of the public is obviously a terrible thing. But right now you feel like you might even lose your trust for Natasha if she’s turning on you.

“I’m sorry, did I mishear you or did you just agree with me?” Tony cockily asks, quirking his brow at you. Your jaw clenches at that, even more so when you turn to Wanda for comfort just to see Vision whispering something in her ear. What the fuck has happened here? Nothing feels like it used to; no one feels like ‘home’ right now. You feel like a fucking stranger here, like you’re the new kid all over again with Tony Stark as the prime fucking bully.

“Oh, I really want to take it back now.” Nat groans but Tony cheerfully shakes his head.

“No, no, no, you can’t retract it. You hear that, Crusher? She agrees with me.” He turns towards you with a smirk and before you can stand up and knock him the fuck out, Natasha comes to your defence.

“Don’t make this about her. It’s about New York, Washington D.C., Sokovia-” Oh, is that really coming to your defence, or just diverting the topic? Jesus fucking Christ, you need to get out of here.

“The innocent woman she killed -” Tony begins, voice spilling venom.

“She didn’t kill anyone. She was framed.” Natasha’s quick with her rebuttal.

“And that’s why she’s breaking down every hour? Haunted by the cries of all the heads she’s crushed?” Tony scoffs. He’s right; you’re unstable, vulnerable, broken and haunted by your mistakes of the past. Perhaps you didn’t kill Rebecca, but you could have. Clearly you’re not fit to integrate back into everyday society let alone for battle.

“She’s changed, Tony. You can’t take that away from her.” Natasha reminds him, reminds everyone, especially you, that you’ve changed. Even if it’s a little progress, it’s still something. Your eyes thank her but you rise to your feet, rubbing your forehead with your hand. This is starting to give you a headache and the last thing you want is to lash out on Tony and prove his point.

“Change? You can’t wash off that much blood, Romanoff.” Stark hisses in a deep voice, no hesitation in his viewpoint. You pause in your tracks before you can even make a move to your suite. Clenching your hands into tight white fists, you slowly turn around to face him with a murderous glare.

“ I have.” Natasha counters, a little hesitant but you’ve changed her mind over the last couple weeks. She has always struggled with her redemption, but the way you treated her made her see herself in a better and less self-critical light.

“Have you?” Tony whispers, stepping closer to her threateningly. You quickly step over to her, bumping your shoulder hard against his to push him back. He stumbles back with a glare, stepping to you uncomfortably close. So close you can smell his cologne like it’s spilling onto your skin.

“Drop the fucking saint act, Stark.” You spit out, lifting your arms to cross them over your chest. They bump against him hard on the way up, making him take a step back begrudgingly.

“Are you really willing to sign our lives away? Our freedom?” Steve interrupts, trying to divert the two of you away from each other before a fight breaks out. Natasha’s hand pulling on your bicep is enough to drag your attention away from Tony’s glare. But you shrug her touch away, not forgetting how she’s actually taking Tony’s side in all this. Her brows scrunch together at that, looking up at you with those green eyes a shade lighter, pleading for you to understand.

“I think it’s the best option right now to keep the people safe.” Tony argues in his defence but his hypocrisy makes your blood fucking boil so much you’ve turned red in the face. Spinning around to face him, successfully making Natasha’s hand drop from your arm, you step towards him with tight white fists.

“Safe? Safe!? Did you keep them safe when you were collapsing buildings on top of them? Were they safe from the weapons you created and sold to the highest fucking bidder? Don’t act high and mighty. You’re the worst of us all. You care about no one but yourself.” You yell, coming up to his face as your voice drops down to a hiss, the vein in your neck bulging. Expecting him to just cower, you’re a little surprised when he pushes you back, blowing up in your face.

“I care about Natasha! I care about this team, my friends, the very friends you constantly put in danger. You ...are not my friend.” Tony spits with venom, keeping his angry gaze locked onto your eyes. Your throat moves as you gulp, taking a step back from him slowly. This...this, you did not expect. You know he’s angry but this is just cruel on his end.

“If this is how you treat your friends...I wouldn’t want to be yours.” You end the conversation, spinning on your heel and rushing out of the room to your suite. The door slams shut behind you and you lean back against it, slipping down onto the floor with your hands buried in your locks. Him? That’s who Natasha’s siding with? Maybe two months wasn’t enough time for you to really get to know her...because the Natasha you know would never side with a villainous, hypocritical ass like him. You knew things would be different when you came back here, but Natasha’s been so fucking hot and cold and you just don’t know what she wants anymore. You thought she wanted you...but she’s sure not fucking acting like it. And now, all Wanda is doing is coming onto you and it shouldn’t be this hard to resist. It’s not even like you really want to kiss her, it’s as simple as just wanting to just hold her in your arms, let her run her hands through your locks and scratch the back of your neck the way she knows you like it. With Natasha seemingly pushing you away...is she pushing you into Wanda’s arms?

Who’ll be there to catch you when you fall?

Sleep finally comes to you that night, but what also came was the fucking cries that won’t leave your mind. Shaking in bed, trying to escape the headless bodies clawing at you, you beg and beg to wake up from this nightmare. When you see one of the hands that grabs you with black nails and rings on every finger, you shoot up with wide eyes, finding no voice to scream.

“Fuck.” You breathe out, taking in deep breaths as your chest heaves, sweat dripping all over your body. You know that hand. You fucking know that hand. Jumping out of your bed, you rush to your door and open it, fully intending to go to her room just...just in case. But you hear soft sounds coming from the living space to your left. You haven’t checked the time but you know it’s late. Curiously making your way through the corridor, you peek your head through the archway, smiling softly when you see the back of Bucky’s head. His greasy locks are tied into a loose bun as he stretches his arm over the back of the couch, a beer in the other hand.

“Are you going to sit and watch or just stare?” He speaks up quietly, startling you a little. Right. For a second there you forgot about the Super-hearing. Making your way over to him with your white socks on, tight black shorts and a white tank, you drop onto the couch.

“What you watching?” You ask, eyes on the screen.

“I don’t know. It’s supposed to be funny.” He says in a monotone voice, handing you a beer after opening it with his metal hand. You accept it with a nod, taking a quick sip.

“Do-Do you remember me?” You hesitate to ask, not wanting to overstep. You know Wanda helped bring him back from HYDRA’s control, but that doesn’t necessarily mean all his memories are back. And you don’t really know how far his progress is at the moment.

“Of course I do, Wolfie.” He teases, letting out a huff when you laugh softly. You remember the little nickname he made for you after going on a couple missions. Bucky saw you beaten and bruised with bones broken, and apparently the way you stretched and moved when your bones were healing - including the sounds - resembled what he thought a werewolf transformation looked like.

“I’m not going to ask how you’ve been.” You confess, turning to face him. You were going to playfully insult his looks saying the years have been unkind to him, but he cuts in before you can.

“I wasn’t going to answer anyway.” He states with a raised brow, turning to look at you too.

“I know.” The two of you take a moment to look at each other, not seeing much change considering you were never given an opportunity to age. The only thing that could ever change is your eyes. There’s a lot of emotion in his, a lot of chaos and fear, but also...exhaustion. And defeat. He’s done fighting.

“Thank you. For bringing me back here.” Bucky says as he faces the screen again, clenching his jaw a little. Small steps.

“You know that confirms that I’m stronger than you, right?” You tease, your elbow digging into his side gently. He rolls his eyes, turning his face away to hide his smile.

“Two versus one.” He argues and you let out a laugh in response. Clint barely did anything...well, apart from stab him with the tranquiliser. But whatever; you did most of the work.

“Hardly. I survived all your metal punches.” You claim with a cocky smirk. When the two of you fought together there was always a battle of egos. But Bucky doesn’t bother fighting this time. He simply chuckles, turning his head towards you again.

“Y/N, you’d survive a plane dropping on you.” He says with a raised brow, recalling your extremely-super-healing abilities. You probably would survive that, unless it absolutely crushes you. Or not. Maybe you’d heal? You have no fucking clue if you’re being honest, but you’re in no rush to find out.

“Well. We’ve survived through a lot. We deserve a bit of a break.” You propose, sitting back a little as you stretch your back to crack it. Laughter spills quietly from the TV but you and Bucky sit in silence, too much on your minds to pay attention to the movie.

“Retirement.” He mumbles, pondering what that would look like for him. You can see the gears turning in his mind, so you shift a little, turning your body towards him a little.

“Is that what you’re considering?” You ask curiously. He stays quiet for a moment before sighing, staring down at his lap.

“I’m tired.” Bucky mumbles and you can only nod in response, knowing exactly how he must feel. He looks tired and you can assume he hasn’t been sleeping much for the same reason you haven’t.

“I know.”

“But I can’t leave Steve to fight these wars alone.” He expresses, keeping his eyes trained on his lap.

“Steve is the Captain.” You reason, knowing Steve’s responsibility to this team - to this world, really - is much higher than Bucky’s.

“And I’m the soldier.” He responds, snapping his head up at you. Attempting to put some sort of persuasion in his tone doesn’t work. You can see how tired he is, how helpless he feels. But he’s also scared of living a life without his best friend; he already has and it only brought him pain. You lean closer, taking a risk by placing your hand on his shoulder. He tenses a little before relaxing under your touch, knowing you mean no harm.

“No. You’re a person who has been in war after war for lifetimes. You deserve a happy ending.” You use Steve’s words, hoping they work. Bucky takes a shaky breath, composing himself so he doesn't break down again. You know the look way too well.

“I-I don’t know how to do anything else.” He says in a pleading tone, asking you for help, for you to tell him what to do. As someone who’s used to being ordered to do everything your entire life, you understand how a little freedom for once can be overwhelming and confusing. It’s a huge step out of the comfort zone. But he’ll see how important freedom really is. And...it is pretty fucking important. These accords take that away from you. Even retiring...it won’t give you the freedom to fight the battles that you might be needed for. Both options take that freedom away from you. What you decide to do really depends on how tired you are of fighting someone else’s battle time after time.

“Well...you have plenty of time to learn.” You say with finality. He simply hums in response, turning back to the screen. The two of you watch the rest of the movie as you catch up, finishing another four beers between each other. When the screen turns black, he turns it off and stands up, holding his hand out for you. You let him help you stand up, just for him to unexpectedly pull you into a tight hug. His arms wrap around your shoulders as yours rest around his waist, tightening when he takes in a shaky breath. He needed this and a small smile makes its way onto your face knowing you’ve at least helped him a little.

“Thank you, Y/N. But I don’t think I’m ready to leave him when I just got him back.” Bucky sighs, pulling away from you. You only give him an understanding smile, making your way out of the space through to the corridor.

“Have a good night, Bucky.” You say quietly, knowing he can hear you anyway. You shut your door behind you with a sigh, running a hand through your hair. There’s only one real option if you don’t want to sign the accords, and you don’t want to retire. Going over to your closet, you reach up to pull out one of the bigger empty duffle bags you have tucked away.

Ross wants to take you in anyway. Any sign of disobedience and he will not hesitate, and you’re sure Tony will be fucking ecstactic to help him. Maybe you can leave with Steve? But he’d want to fight. You could go with Wanda? But Vision would follow her, follow the two of you like a damn drone in the sky. Natasha...well, her decision is pretty clear already. You need to earn the trust of the people back, but you don’t think you’ve ever had it. You don’t think any of the Avengers ever did, because one mistake and they all turn against you. That’s not trust, that’s a bet they take every time their world is attacked and they literally have no one to help but Earth’s Mightiest fucking Heroes. 

So you’ll have to do this alone. Can you? Can you go alone after finally knowing what it feels like to have a family? Friends? People around you every single day to be there for you, to eat with, laugh with, train with? You’re not sure if you can. You’re not sure if anyone can replace them. Can you go without them? Without the love that you’ve been dreaming about since you were 11 watching your parents dancing together? How would Wanda react to you leaving again, this time with no form of communication? And Natasha? You know she didn’t intend to hurt you by her choices, and you can’t blame her for having different beliefs to you. You know she feels something for you and from the vulnerability she’s shown you...you already know she’d be broken if you left her. Could you give up your freedom just to be with her? 

“Miss Y/L/N. Miss Maximoff is at the door.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. speaks out, alerting you as Wanda softly knocks on the door. You drop the closed bag, kicking it to the side and running a hand through your locks as you take a deep breath.

“Let her in.” The door unlocks and Wanda pushes it open after hearing the sound. Standing in shorts and an oversized, worn out shirt, she walks in timidly. You’ve seen that shirt hundreds of times, knowing it’s one of the only things she has left of Pietro’s.

“Hi.” She whispers, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

“Hey. Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Her eyes drop down to your exposed skin, subtly biting her bottom lip nervously before glancing back up into your eyes. She sees the quirked brow and blushes, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

“No, I-What is that?” Wanda starts but immediately frowns when she sees the bag on the floor in the corner of the room. Shit. “Are you leaving? Again?” Her lips quiver a little as she takes in a shaky breath.

“I-I don’t know yet.” You confess with a frustrated sigh, sitting down on your bed. Wanda walks over to you slowly, sitting next to you. Your naked thighs press up against each other, hers cold and yours warm.

“I heard you thinking about me earlier.” You know she’s referring to the moment you woke up from your nightmare. You turn to her with a frown, hoping she wasn’t in your head. She quickly defends herself, explaining that she wasn’t invading your privacy. “I wasn’t trying to listen in, but you know how it gets when someone thinks really loud. It’s hard to shut it out.” You nod in response, having had this conversation with her before. In all fairness, you were terrified and only Wanda was on your mind as you walked out the room hoping she was okay. Seeing her without a head like that scared the absolute shit out of you. “I heard you and Bucky talking when I came out so I went back in. Is he okay?” She asks in a concerned tone. You assume the two of them might have gotten closer since she’s helped him with the mind control problem.

“He will be.” You respond with a small smile.

“And you?” She asks. You don’t really know how to answer that.

“I don’t know what to do.” You sigh, falling back. Shifting back until you’re laying back and sitting up a little against the headboard, you wait for Wanda to follow your movements like she usually does, but she doesn't this time.

“I am sure it was you that told me running away from my problems-” Wanda teases as she turns to sit with her legs crossed, facing you. She sits between your open legs at the end of the bed.

“Doesn’t fix them, yeah, I know. Smart ass.” You playfully kick her knee and she giggles, some of her hair falling out of the messy bun on her head. Your lips shift into a soft smile as you watch her, the moonlight blaring through the glass windows.

“You made me one. Now you have to deal with the consequences.” Wanda says with a wide smile, tugging at your heart strings each time she giggles.

“Is that so?” You respond with a snort, intertwining your hands behind your head.

“Uh huh. I have plenty of quotes for you.” Wanda boasts, shifting so she’s sitting on her folded legs instead. Your eyes drift down, glancing over her exposed legs for a moment before looking up at the ceiling rolling your eyes.

“Ugh, I don’t need philosophy right now if I’m being honest.” You grumble. Wanda’s voice goes quiet as she shifts again.

“What do you need?” She whispers curiously. What do you need? Some questions answered. Someone to tell you what to do.

“To be...or not to be...that is the question.” You sigh out, quoting Hamlet, and Wanda immediately groans and shakes her head at you. Seemingly, she understands what you’re referring to and you’re kind of shocked...and a little proud. She really has been doing a lot of reading. The question is whether that’s your influence or Visions.

“Okay, I know that one and I’m not letting you die. You have other options.” She complains, kind of amused at how dramatic you’re being.

“To sleep! Perchance to dream-” You yell out, knowing the suites are soundproof anyway so you’re not interrupting anyone’s sleep. Wanda interrupts you as she jumps up, crawling over you and clamping her hand over your mouth.

“No, nope. You’re staying. You’re staying right here.” She giggles as you lick her hand, her hands moving to rest around your waist. A couple stray hairs fall off her face, tickling your cheek as you look up into her eyes. You’re too tired to fight, too tired to reason with the logical part of your mind that thinks this is wrong. The logical part thinks you should take way more time apart before forgiving her, laughing with her, holding her in your arms. “Please stay.” Wanda whispers and you can’t resist her pleas this time. You did once and...well, it led to HYDRA and Bertha and Rebecca, and now, the accords.

“Okay.” You whisper back with a sigh. Her lips tug into a wide smile at your quick surrender. You’ll stay. You’ll fight. Because Wanda wants you to.

“Okay?” She asks for reassurance and you give it with a nod.

“Okay.” She shifts until her head is pressed up against your chest, arms resting around your waist. Your fingers trail up and down her spine, waiting as her muscles relax, breath steadying. Just when you think she’s asleep, she shifts herself up to lay next to you. She stares at your cheek in silence until you sigh and turn to face her too. Wanda’s eyes glance over your features, memorising them like she’s forgotten them. No. Like she’s been deprived. A kid at a candy store, finally getting their monthly allowance.

“Do you still think I’m cute?” She finally whispers, voice bordering a dangerously raspy tone. You gulp for a moment when her eyes turn a little darker, her tongue coming out to wet her lips. Her face leans in just slightly as the tip of her nose touches yours. You can’t move even if you wanted to, practically hypnotised by her. You’re, like, 90% sure it’s because you love the scent of cinnamon. Okay, more like 10%, and 90% of you is pretty sure Wanda is intoxicating.

“I think you’re...my guardian angel.” You whisper with nothing but truth in your tone. Wanda’s breath hitches at your confession, stealing the air from your lungs as your lips open just a little, admiring her soft features. Her eyes glance from your eyes to your lips before she finally skims her nose against yours. There’s no hesitation like there was all those weeks ago. She looks into your eyes as she leans in, her soft lips brushing over yours. Just that taste is enough for her to lean in all the way, attaching her lips to yours. Fuck. You involuntarily gasp into the kiss, maybe because you’re shocked, or maybe it’s the electricity running through your body. Time stands still as your lips move together. Her hand comes up to rest against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw as her unbelievably soft lips quiver against yours. Everything in your head goes quiet for a moment, Wanda’s soft moan being the only thing flowing into your ears. But her pulling away to take a quick breath brings you back to your senses. What are you doing? “Red-” You whisper as you lean back when she leans forward again.

“Please don’t. Please don’t say anything.” Wanda begs, eyes wide and already glossy.

“But-” You try again but she whimpers, shaking her head as best as she can with her position on the bed. Her finger comes up to press against your lips, pleading you to not say the words you want to.

“I know, Y/N, but...just let me have this. Please.” You take a moment and see the pain in her eyes, the desperation, the fear. That fear is what makes you gulp and nod in agreement. You don’t want to hurt her any more than you already have. That’s the last thing you want.

“Okay.” You agree as she lets out a relieved breath. Her nose brushes over yours once more before she shifts, head laying on your chest. Your arms wrap around her, pulling her close to you. Part of you deep down knows she won’t let you say it because she thinks it’ll give her another chance to try again. Like she didn’t let you say it when you talked yesterday in your room. But...part of you doesn’t want to say it either because you know you don’t really mean it yet. Not when you can’t make a decision with Natasha still clinging onto Bruce. Then you’d lose both of them.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Wanda whispers, taking a shaky breath against your chest. The cold air sends shivers over your body. You sigh and stare up at the ceiling, brows furrowed in confusion, caution...in fear. Things are about to get so much more complicated.

“Night, Red.”

Chapter Text

This morning when you wake up, it’s not from a nightmare. It’s not from the screams of the dead, not from the boiling hot blood burning your hands, not from the headless bodies attempting to grab you. This morning when you wake up, the first thing you see is green. Light green shining, gleaming from the sunlight bursting through the windows.

“Morning.” She whispers, voice croaky. Embarrassed by her tone, her cheeks turn red as she clears her throat with a giggle. You can’t help but snort at that, triggering her into a full blown laugh. She’s missed this, and so have you if you’re honest with yourself.

“Thought I fell asleep with Bucky.” You tease with a quirked brow. Wanda gasps and slaps your arm, grumbling as she scrambles to get off you. But you tighten your arms around her waist with a low chuckle. “I’m just kidding.” You trail on in a playful tone, burying your face in her neck. Taking in a deep breath of Wanda, you let out a soft sigh as her nails scratch the back of your head.

“I’m glad you got some sleep.” Wanda whispers, giving you a quick soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Thanks.” You mumble, clearing your throat as your arms loosen around her. What happened last night runs through your mind and your body suddenly feels tense. It feels wrong doing any of this without at least telling Natasha where you stand. What if she thinks you’re together? What if she has been trying to break up with Bruce this entire time and he just won’t let go? All while you were here kissing Wanda.

“Steve wants us to have a group training session in 30.” Wanda sighs as she stretches, going through the texts on her phone.

“Ugh. That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.” You complain, sitting up on the other side of the bed. Back to back, the two of you stretch your arms out, hands accidentally brushing against each other. “Sorry.”

“Sorry.” The both of you mumble simultaneously, letting out huffs of laughter at that. “I’m sorry. I think I have made things a little confusing for you.” Wanda sighs, apologising with her head down.

“Really? No way.” You sarcastically tease, standing up to bend down, stretching your legs. “It’s okay. Really.” You breathe out as you go about your morning routine. The two of you move in tense silence for a while, taking turns in the bathroom to clean up and wake yourselves up.

“I’ll see you in a bit?” Wanda hesitantly says with her back against the door. You glance over at her quickly, taking your attention away from your closet.

“Sure. Thanks, Red. For last night.” She pauses at that, a little hopeful in the eyes until she realises you’re most likely referring to her being a warm body to cuddle with, helping you sleep. She nods in acknowledgement, shutting the door softly on her way out. Jesus. That was fucking awkward. It’s never been that tense with her, but you’re not sure if it was just on your end or hers. It seemed like she didn’t really want to leave, but could sense that you didn’t necessarily want her to stay. You don’t even want to think about this right now. Getting changed into comfortable training gear, you quickly grab a bottle of water and head downstairs. You might as well take the opportunity to let out your frustrations in a healthy way.

“Behind!” Sam yells, shooting from his suit at the holographic alien behind you. You duck, avoiding the blast with a quick nod of thanks to him. He flies towards an alien, lifting it and dropping it towards you, letting you punch a fist through its stomach. As another comes running towards you, you boot it in the chest; it flies back from the force, allowing Wanda to tear it apart with her powers mid-air. The last one left is blasted by Tony.

“Good job, team.” Steve pants out into the comms, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Next wave in 5.” You take the time to stretch your muscles, sitting on the ground with your legs spread, leaning over to grab your foot to stretch as far as you can.

“I’m thinking of adding LED lights to my suit. What’d you think?” Natasha whispers, kneeling down from behind you. Her hot breath against your ear has you shivering for a second. You turn to face her with a raised brow and smirk.

“Like my suit?” You ask with narrowed, playful eyes. The blush on her cheek has you smiling widely and she sits down next to you with her hair sticking to her sweaty head. You reach over, brushing her hair away from her skin gently.

“I just think it’s useful.” She reasons, leaning into your touch slightly. You don’t pay mind to anyone else around you, just keeping your eyes locked to hers because you really have missed her. Even though it’s only been, like, a day. Or two. How long has Bruce been back? Because it kind of feels like he never left. You drop your hand when he comes into mind.

“Copycat.” You whisper with a smirk, laughing when she rolls her eyes at you. “I can practically feel your boyfriend’s eyes on us.” You mumble, smile dropping off your face a little. Natasha lets out a frustrated sigh, glancing around until her eyes meet his from where he’s observing training. You’re not an idiot; you can see the slight frown on her face, the sympathy in her eyes like she’s apologising to him. Clearing your throat, you have to turn your head away from looking at her; it’s far too obvious that her feelings for him are still there. Or something like that.

“He’s not my-just...ignore him. He’s always like this.” Natasha frustratedly sighs, running a hand through her hair as she unties it. Her hair falls over her shoulders, covering her face a little when she looks down. The pout on her lips is too much for you to resist. With a sigh, you reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear, letting your hand linger on her cheek for a moment too long.

“Just because he’s always like this doesn’t mean it’s okay. His dickish behaviour shouldn’t be normalised.” You reason in a low voice, leaning your head down a little to get her to meet your eyes. It’s easy to spot the conflict in them and part of you feels a little...resentful? You opened your heart up to her just for her to run back to him. But you’re not going to let that stop you from getting the girl of your dreams. There’s still a lot of fight left in you.

“I know, I know. It’s just-” Natasha sighs and you interrupt with a raised brow, already knowing what she’s about to say.

“If you’re about to say ‘complicated’, I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs.” She giggles a little at that, shaking her head and looking down to avoid your eyes. You wait a moment, just watching her, noticing the way her hands are playing with each other nervously. Natasha finally looks back up at you with pleading eyes and you’ve already given in before she even asks her question.

“Look, can we talk about this after training? Please?” Natasha begs and instantly smirks when she sees you visibly gulp. She leans forward a little closer to you, her hand brushing against yours that’s resting on the padded floor.

“Say it again.” You whisper, eyes almost rolling to the back of your head just at the scent of her. Lavender does make you sleepy to be fair, but she just makes you feel like you’re fucking high and you never want to come down. Nat looks into your eyes as hers turn a shade darker, narrowed a little when they glance down to your lips just long enough for you to see how badly she wants you too. God, she’s fucking confusing.

“Please…” She practically whines, whimpers even, and you can’t control the groan that escapes your throat. It sounds borderline painful and it does feel like that sometimes - when you want someone so bad but you can’t have them.

“You’re driving me crazy, woman.” You groan out, falling onto your back just to put some distance between the two of you because you’re pretty sure if she looks at you like that again you’re going to kiss her right then and there in front of everyone.

“30 seconds.” Steve speaks out as Natasha’s laughing comes to a stop. You sigh as you stumble up to your feet, glancing around as you stretch your arms. Your eyes meet Wanda’s and they look a little distant as she stares. Following her gaze, you see that she’s looking at Natasha with a slight frown forming on her face.

“You doing okay, Red?” You ask cautiously, stepping towards her. Her head snaps to you, taken aback by your closeness to her as you break her out of her gaze. Wanda nods, clearing her throat and twirling her fingers, cracking them a little. “Cool. Cool.” You whisper, laughing nervously and stepping away from her. You don’t like that look. You don’t like that look one bit.

“5. 4.” Steve counts down, everyone standing in a circle looking up at the holographic alien ship approaching. Tony immediately flies off on his own, like he usually does. Nat runs to Steve who drops down as she jumps, bouncing her off his shield into the sky. She lands on one of the aliens, kicking it off its flying machine and taking it for herself. Nat shoots another one of them with the machine, making them fall your way. Without a second thought, you uppercut the alien, elbowing another that you hear coming from behind you.

The group move in sync, having each other’s backs, working together to defeat the aliens. It falls apart when Tony stares right at a holographic alien coming behind Steve, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Steve grunts, trying to fight the alien off his back, eyes pleading for Tony to shoot at it but Vision intervenes, shooting at it with his stone.

“What the hell was that?” Steve argues, grunting as he fights through two aliens trying to attack him. Tony flies up away from Steve’s glare, attacking on the other side of the room.

“On your right, baby.” Natasha yells above you, knocking her machine against another, causing the alien to fall towards you. You’re not the only one who noticed the term she used. Everyone goes silent just for a second, but then they quickly return to the task at hand. All but Wanda, who looks at Natasha with a tilted head and red eyes. Your eyes widen when you catch the glare, noticing her hands wisping with red magic as she lifts them up.

“Wanda!” You yell but it’s too late. Natasha’s scream fills your ears and you run forward quickly, eyes on her falling figure. “I got you!” You easily jump up a little higher than humanly possible, catching her in your arms with a grunt. She gasps at the contact, taking in quick breaths as her heart pounds from the fear. “I got you.” You breathe out, heart beating just as fast as hers despite knowing you were close enough to catch her anyway. Nat takes in a deep breath as she looks into your eyes, but they suddenly turn dark, an emotionless look on her face as she jumps out of your arms, rolling onto the floor as she throws one of her widow bites. It slides across the floor towards Wanda, stopping at her feet and shocking her body with electricity. Wanda lets out a gasp and groan, falling to her knees in pain. You take a step to her, hand reaching out, but you’re frozen in your tracks when Vision flies to her instantly, lifting her in his arms. He quickly destroys the widow bite with his stone, easing Wanda’s pain a little.

“End simulation!” Steve yells out, ending the training. His voice echoes around the room as everyone sighs, turning to face him so you don’t have to face each other. “That’s enough! What the hell is going on here? We’re supposed to be a team united, fighting together for the people out there who can’t.” Steve scolds all of you, giving the most attention to Wanda who’s on her two feet now with her arms crossed over her chest. He knows she’s fairly young, but that doesn’t dismiss her attitude and recklessness. Everyone saw Wanda’s magic, the wisps of red pushing Natasha off the machine. If you weren’t there to catch Natasha she would have been seriously injured. “It’s life or death on the field when you have enemies coming for you with no intention but to rip your heads off. Don’t make it easier by destroying this team from the inside. Whatever’s going on here...fix it.” Steve directs that at you with a glare, knowing you’re at the centre of all this. With a sigh he storms out, the rest following one by one. Wanda’s one of the first out, avoiding the disappointed look you’re giving her, and of course Vision’s right behind her.

“Natasha, please-” Your head snaps to the side at the sound of Bruce’s voice. Of course he didn’t train with you guys, just sat on the side and watched like a creep. Letting the ‘big guy’ out for training is a no-no considering he has almost no control over him.

“No, Bruce.” Natasha replies, shrugging his arm off her shoulder. She makes a move to the changing rooms but he grips onto her hand, pulling her closer to him. They’re arguing in hushed tones, but you can hear with your enhanced abilities. It’s only when she lets out a wince as his hand tightens around her wrist that you decide to intervene, rushing over to them. Pushing him away from her, you stand in front of her protectively, giving him the best glare you can possibly put on. With a distorted growl, he steps towards you, fists tightening, neck straining as he struggles to keep Hulk at bay.

“Are you proud of yourself? Homewrecker.” He spits out, clenching his jaw when you don’t waver. His words mean absolutely nothing to you. All that matters is keeping him away from Natasha. “I came back for you!” He yells out in anger, as if she fucking owes him another chance. He looks over your shoulder at her, ignoring your presence.

"Why should I believe you’ll stay this time?” She argues back, finding the power in her voice again with you protecting her. Bruce turns his attention back to you, keeping his stare for as long as he can before huffing and storming out of the room, white fists opening and closing as he tries to control his anger. The door slams behind him and you’re quick to turn around, following Natasha into the locker room.

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed and you thought it was a good idea to come to training?” You call out into the room, voice echoing. Natasha sighs, taking a seat on the bench between the lockers. Leaning against the lockers, you watch her with your arms crossed over your chest, keeping the stern expression on your face. But it drops when you see how tired she looks, body dropping a little in exhaustion. With a sigh, you walk over to her, dropping to your knees in front of her. “Where does it hurt?” Your hand holds her own as you scan her features, seeing faded bruises, the scars healing apart from the small one above her left brow. That one seems to want to stay.

“Here.” Natasha whispers, slowly lifting your hand up to hold it to her chest, right over her beating heart. A heavy sigh escapes your throat at that gesture, head hanging low knowing you’re a contributor to that pain. To all of it. “I’ve missed you.” Natasha says, dropping your hand. But it stays right there anyway, refusing to move off her heart hoping your touch can soothe it.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.” You reassure her, looking up into her eyes. She sighs in frustration at that. She’s never been great at expressing her emotions; if she was, then you’d have been together already long ago.

“I know. I mean...I miss waking up next to you. Just...sitting with you. Having you near me.” She explains, pink in the cheeks at her confession. Nat turns her head away from your adoring eyes and soft smirk, feeling suddenly a little embarrassed.

“Oh...you mean you miss being married to me?” You tease, chuckling when she groans in annoyance. Dropping your hand down, you let it rest on your thigh, squeezing slightly to get her to look at you. “I’m just teasing, love.” The blush turns a shade darker at your term and you can’t help the grin on your face at that.

“Things have been really hectic lately.” Natasha sighs out. You let out a nervous chuckle, clearing your throat as you let your hand fall off her thigh. It instantly misses her warmth.

“That’s an understatement. I-Uh, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to act around you now. With the rest of them watching.” You emphasise, sighing and leaning back a little. Natasha watches you for a moment curiously before her hand reaches up, holding your cheek. You instantly lean into the touch that you missed so much, soaking up the comfort she provides. It amazes you how easily and quickly Natasha can just...soothe you, almost putting you into a narcotic haze just from the simplest of touches.

“Just do what feels right.” She whispers and it pangs through to your heart. This feels right; she feels right. Natasha already knows from the look in your eyes that you want her, but you leaning in more or less confirms it for her. Her hand creeps down to grip your jaw, pulling you in as she leans her head forward with open lips eager to connect to yours. Natasha immediately whimpers the moment your lips touch hers. She kisses you like she’s been deprived for months, years, like it’s all she’s been thinking about. And you give the same energy back, if not more. Your hands trail up her thighs until they’re rested on her soft curves, kneading her skin until she’s moving her body closer to you. This is exactly what you’ve been needing. But the moment the two of you move to change angles, both of you pull away at the reminder of someone else. There’s a guilty expression on her face and a conflicted one of yours, the both of you too caught up in your own feelings to notice the other.

Now that you’ve kissed Wanda, you can’t help making comparisons. That’s the absolute last thing you want to be doing, but your mind naturally goes to that. It only happened last night; how the fuck are you supposed to just forget that happened? Act like you’re just friends? Is it something you need to tell Natasha or does that not matter considering you’re not even together?

“I-” You begin, but your voice cracks a little. Natasha sighs, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders.

“This feels right...doesn’t it?” She asks hesitantly, but you quickly nod your head and hold her arms, keeping her hands on you. The last thing you want is for her to pull away even more. She’s not the problem. She could never be the problem.

“Of course, love.” You reassure her with a soft smile, fingers gently rubbing against her skin soothingly. Nat sighs in content for a moment, leaning down to press her lips against yours once more. It’s quick, but you feel the quiver of her bottom lip against yours and that’s all you need to know how she feels about you. She feels the intensity that you feel, goosebumps and shivers running up and down both your bodies.

“But...the way I left things with Bruce feels wrong.” She explains with a guilty expression on his face. Fucking hell. Bruce just keeps ruining everything.

“Natasha, he’s an ass-” You sigh out but Natasha quickly interrupts you. She knows all this and repeating it won’t change anything. As much as this hurts, you admire her for it; her heart’s too big for her to hurt anyone else. She can’t sit by and let Bruce suffer without at least giving him closure or an explanation.

“I know, Y/N, but he’d only just left and I jumped into bed with you the first chance I got. I-I’m not even sure we broke up. It was just a really bad argument and I just-I need to have a talk with him.” You shift uncomfortably at her words. You needed to talk to Wanda, and you did; you thought you fixed things, but perhaps you fixed a little too much. For all you know, a ‘talk’ with Bruce could easily bring up old feelings for them too. They have history and you’re not an idiot; you know how easy it is to fall back into old habits. He was there when you weren’t, when she thought she couldn’t have you. The only difference is she has you now, and him. Just like you have Natasha, and Wanda. The conflict she’s feeling is one thing you can understand and you don’t take offence to it whatsoever.

“A talk. Right.” Natasha can tell you’re a little tense at that, your hands dropping off her hips. She frowns at the action, immediately jumping to her own defence.

“I feel like I’ve just been using him for months because I couldn’t have you. And I just-” She starts, sighing when you shush her a little, squeezing her thigh.

“You feel guilty. I get it, Nat. Really, I do.” You emphasise and she understands. You’ve been feeling nothing but guilt for the last week and she knows how hard it has been for you. If anyone were to understand, it’d be you. Hell, you still feel guilty and at this rate you think that’s likely to be a permanent emotion for you to have to live with.

“I need to talk to him before we take things further. Is that okay with you?” Natasha hesitates to ask, but at least she does. Honesty is important to you, so is consent, and clear communication. Wanda seems to lack some of those. Perhaps you should make a pros and cons list. But you’ve seen the show ‘Friends’ so you know what the outcome of that is. You scrap that idea quickly.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

“Really?” Natasha looks surprised at that, and it’s clearly something she’s not used to. Her reaction makes you want to rush out, find Bruce and beat him into the ground. You’ve always thought she deserved better than him, and you’re glad she’s given you the chance to show her what better looks like.

“I’d wait for pigs to fly for you.” You whisper dramatically, hand coming up to hold her cheek in your hand. Nat blushes, leaning into your touch with a soft smile she can’t seem to fight whenever she feels you.

“You know you can just say ‘forever’, right?” Nat teases, turning her head slightly to leave a soft kiss against the palm of your hand. You can’t help the smile and sudden leap of your heartbeat at that action. God. You’d wait forever for her.

Going for a run seemed like the best option after that tense team workout and the conversation with Natasha that left you feeling even tenser. Running always clears your head because it’s what you’re used to doing at this point. The first thing you do is run, leave, get as far away as possible from whatever problems headed your way. It was hard to break out of that cycle but what you remember from your HYDRA days is feeling somewhat...content? Content being there, content doing what you were ordered to do for survival. It was only when you were underground with flickering lights, cold, muddy water and Bertha infiltrating your mind that you finally figured out why you were feeling content.

It was her. She’s the one who soothed you; Bertha’s the one who made the pain feel like it was worth something. With hindsight, you know your feelings weren’t romantic, but simply a product of your attachment issues. But it was still...something. She made you feel loved, taken care of, wanted and appreciated. Bertha taught you everything she knew about the world and it gave you hope. It gave you hope that perhaps there’s a story out there for you. Perhaps your life is a book and your suffering is a simple chapter you need to get through to get to the meaning. The lesson. All her teachings...they’re things you held close to your heart, things you taught Wanda, and you had no idea it was Bertha at the source of that. All your memories of you in your cell with a pile of books? Bertha’s books. And, well, everyone knows how she turned out.

Will you turn out like that too? If there is hope and light at the end of the tunnel, then why is Bertha’s end a dark, lonely cell for her to sit and die in, drowning in her own self-pity? Is she actually just a mirror for you? A sneak peek into what your future holds? You can already see it. You can already see how you’d end up all alone. Perhaps retirement. Maybe you’d have to go on the run alone. Wanda stays to fight, and Natasha? Natasha’s the one fighting her. Natasha’s the one standing by Tony’s side. Maybe Wanda doesn’t even fight. Maybe she goes off with Vision who can’t seem to leave her alone for even a second. And she doesn’t seem to mind it. Of course you’d end up alone; you’ve been an outsider since the very beginning. Tony’s made that pretty clear, and he calls the shots around here. Him and Steve, that is. That was bound to blow up too, but they have their own conflict that apparently has been going on since the formation of the Avengers. Men and their egos.

That’s something else Bertha taught you. Pride. Swallow your pride, because there will always be someone above you calling the shots. Now, you’re pretty sure the only reason she integrated that into your mind was to ensure you’d never step out of line despite all the power coursing through your veins. But it’s still something useful to you. Steve is a proud man. Of course he’s surprisingly more humble than most, so you’ll give him credit for that. But he is a man nonetheless, a powerful one at that, and one that has been put on a pedestal by the most ‘important’ and influential people on this planet. Then there’s Tony. That needs no explanation. You know you could beat either of them to a pulp, but you choose not to. Eyes on you are bound to be evil, filled with jealousy, sending nothing but negative energy your way. You don’t need that, nor want that. And the responsibility? The exploitation? That constant pressure is the last thing you need, and it’s not something you want anyway. You know you’re stronger, but they don’t; that’s your advantage.

It’s done you good now, hasn't it? A war is brewing; you can feel it. And when that war comes, you’ll be prepared and they won’t, because they’ve shown all their strength while you’ve kept yours hidden like a chocolate bar a kid doesn’t want their sibling to steal. Behind every powerful person is a prideful one holding a knife.

Is that why Wanda can’t let go? Why she refuses to let you say the words that’ll break her? Pride? She can’t take rejection, not from you. Not when she’s spent months with you, building a connection, integrating herself into your life, just for you to tell her it’s not good enough. Just for you to pick someone else, to choose to spend even more time building a connection with someone else instead of choosing what you already have with her. Wanda can’t handle a ‘no’, not from you. Because she knows her value, her place, her importance to you. And that’s your fault because you do tell her she’s the most important person in your life. And she is. Or was. You don’t fucking know who’s taking that number one spot and it’s all Meyer’s fault. She made you choose, and despite that being an impulsive decision, you’re not sure if you want to go with your impulse. She made you choose and now both of them are hurt, and the one to blame is locked safely away. Locked away in the Northeastern Correctional Facility.

You read the words when you come to a stop, taking in deep and heavy breaths. With wide and frantic eyes, you look up at the sign, looking around at the strong gates around the facility. She’s in there, waiting for you. You know she is. It wasn’t goodbye, not for her. But it was supposed to be the perfect ending for you. That’s what Clint told you; he said you needed closure. So why did your subconscious bring you here? Why do you feel an urge to go inside and see her? Why are there still so many unanswered questions that even your new-found memories can’t answer?

As you come to a decision, you take a step forward to the gate. But your ringtone cuts through the silence, startling you. It’s Wanda.

‘Hey.’ You answer as you take in a deep breath, turning your back to the facility. Wanda shuffles around and by now you know the sound her bed makes when it squeaks.

‘Hi. Where are you?’ Her voice comes out a little raspy, like she’s just woken up from a nap. Sometimes she’d call you despite you already being in the compound, being too lazy to get out of bed. Or too depressed. You’d come rushing to her, jumping onto the bed with a wide smile as she squeals, huffing and puffing as your weight suffocates her.

‘Just went on a run.’ You reply as you clear your throat, looking down at your scruffy shoes. They’re your favourite running pair - black with red accents around the sides.

‘Are you coming back for dinner?’ Wanda asks after sighing at your response. She was hoping you’d be in, hoping she’d be able to have a conversation with you that would last longer than a couple minutes. It’s clear she’s been wanting to talk about what happened last night, and she probably would have if you didn’t stay back with Natasha after training. But she knows it’s her fault for the way she impulsively reacted to Natasha’s term of endearment.

‘Not sure.’ You give her a blunt reply, hoping she’d take the hint; you don’t want to talk to her. You’d rather pretend nothing happened because adding to your pile of problems is the absolute last thing you need.

‘Okay.’ Wanda replies quietly, sitting in painfully tense silence as she breathes through the phone. She won’t let it go and you know it. With a heavy sigh, you sit on the sidewalk ignoring the looks from the guards standing outside the facility.

‘Come on. Spit it out.’ You demand impatiently and Wanda hesitates before finally responding.

‘I’m sorry about earlier.’ You can’t help letting out a soft huff of disbelief at that. It’s fucking annoying. It’s really really getting annoying at this point.

‘It seems like apologising is all you’ve been doing since I came back.’ You scoff out, too frustrated to tread on eggshells around her now. If she’s mature enough to kiss you, to fight for you, to show off her big girl power in training like that, then she’s mature enough to handle the brutal truth.

‘I don’t know what else to say, Y/N. I keep messing up.’ Wanda practically whines out; your eyes automatically roll at her tone. It was cute at some point, but she’s not an idiot and neither are you. Somehow she thinks you still are, as if you’ll just let it go and dismiss her actions on the fact that she’s still young and naive. It’s blatant manipulation at this point and you’ve just about had enough with her messing with your feelings.

‘Wanda, when people fuck up they usually learn from their mistakes. You can’t keep-’ You argue, raising your tone at her. But she interrupts quickly, almost making you choke on your words.

‘I love you.’ Wanda suddenly confesses with no hesitation in her tone for the first time in a long time. This. This is manipulation. You both know the implication of her words; she’s in love with you. She’s had so many fucking opportunities to tell you and she chooses now? Of all fucking times, she genuinely thinks this is the right time to tell you how she feels? And over the phone? ‘Y/N? Are you still there?’ She asks after your long silence, but you can’t find your voice. Your mouth opens and closes as you struggle to find the words. What are you supposed to say? What does she even expect you to say? She knows how fucking hard shit has been for you, and she knows how you feel about Natasha. ‘I’ll see you at home.’ She whispers before hanging up. You listen to the monotone beep before lazily dropping your hand. You’re pretty sure the phone cracks against the concrete pavement, but nevermind that.

“Fucking hell, woman.” You mumble, dropping your head into your hands. What the fuck are you supposed to do now?

By the time you get back home it’s hours later and you’ve missed dinner. But Natasha had already texted you telling you she’s left you a plate. Two plates actually because she knows how much you eat. But right now, you have no appetite whatsoever. You’re pretty sure if you even bring a spoonful of rice to your mouth you’d puke right then and there. The insides of your stomach have been doing flips - a whole fucking gynmastics session - ever since Wanda told you she loves you. Part of you is infuriated with her because she knows you’re in love with Natasha. She knew that before she came onto you last fucking minute. She knew that before she kissed you. Before she told you she loves you.

But part of you - a very small part - can’t help but feel kind of...happy. With how jealous you’ve been over Vision, her confession kind of soothes you and reassures you that you haven’t been replaced. But doesn’t that make you a selfish asshole? Shouldn’t you want her to be happy? Being with you would never be enough for her because what Wanda needs-no-what she deserves is total and utter devotion. That’s something you can’t give, not while your heart is with Natasha.

You can hear them arguing as you walk through the gate, dragging your feet through the perfectly cut grass knowing it’ll irritate Tony when he sees it. Their arguing is loud and you’re pretty sure you heard a fist have a conversation with a wall at some point - most likely Tony’s because that man loses his shit if anyone stands up to him. When the elevator dings and you walk out, making your way to the living room, you see Tony’s bloodied knuckles and the wall stained so it confirms your suspicions. With a sigh you lean against the archway, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch Tony and Steve argue. The only person even attempting to break it up is Rhodey but his words fall onto deaf ears.

“Dads are fighting again.” Wanda jokingly remarks as she comes up beside you, leaning on the parallel wall of the archway. A soft huff of laughter leaves your throat at that. They kind of are dads of the group. A divorce is coming; everyone knows it.

“Uh, Wanda, what are you implying about fathers fighting?” Vision’s irritating voice comes up behind Wanda. Of course he’s trailing along, and of course he doesn’t get her joke. You zone their voices out as she explains it to him and he still doesn’t laugh. But eventually he floats away when Wanda asks him to. She clears her throat to bring your attention back to her.

“Are you going to sign them?” Wanda asks. She already knows your answer, or she thinks she does. You don’t really know just yet. But what you do know is there are two sides of this and they’re arguing right in front of you, pleading their case to everyone in the team. It seems split so far and perhaps you’re the decider.

“Unsure.” You reply shortly, looking down at your worn out shoes to avoid Tony’s glare when he mentions your name as a point for his argument. “You know...there’s a part of me that-well. The objective part, the logical part of my brain. That part thinks I should be tamed.” You ponder, letting your thoughts out to Wanda. It used to come naturally to you - opening your thoughts and mind up to her - but now you struggle, not knowing how she’ll use your words against you.

“Why?” She tilts her head, watching you curiously.

“Objectively...I’m out of control. I’m a ticking time bomb as long as Meyer is out there. Hell, how am I supposed to know if there aren’t any more Meyer’s waiting in the shadows? I don’t even know my own mind. What I need is to be...controlled. Controlled and made to do the right thing this time.”

“Y/N, you’ve been controlled your entire life. You finally have freedom and you’re willing to give it up?” Her words are protesting, but her tone isn’t. She’s more curious than anything, almost in awe at your selflessness. You’d rather be controlled like you have been your entire life, just because it’ll be in the right hands. Or rather, hands with good intentions currently. Like you said earlier, people have agendas and agendas change.

“Criminals get their freedom taken away from them because they use it to hurt people. Freedom has rules, lines, boundaries. What even is freedom if it gets taken away from us because of choices we use our freedom to make?” You contemplate, having a change of heart. You should be free to do what you want to do. There are exceptions, of course, but not everyone labelled a criminal is one. You are not a criminal. Wanda lets out a hum as she pushes herself off of the wall, moving towards you. She stops in front of you, looking up into your eyes before leaning up on your toes to whisper to you.

“Is freedom anything else than the right to live as we wish?” She quotes Epictetus with a knowing smile, walking away letting you think over her words. Well...shit. You mumble with somewhat of a proud grin as you walk away to your suite to think over your decision.

“And so the student becomes the master.”

Chapter Text

Tony’s the first to sign the accords. That doesn’t shock a single person; everyone knows he's on one extreme end while Steve’s on the other. Slowly but surely, everyone started picking sides because the only other option, the 3rd option, is to be alone. No Avenger should walk alone. The compound has been tense as everyone anticipates what happens next, already preparing for the battle they can all see coming. However, you chose to stay in your suite re-reading Game of Thrones to keep your mind occupied. It reminds you of Mia and you wonder how she’s doing, if she’s still skipping classes, if she’s showing off to her friends that she was - or is - friends with Crusher.

That makes you wonder how many other people, other young women, you may have inspired. Of course you’re not the Black Widow; you’re still fairly new to the Avengers. But you’re known, and clearly Mia felt inspired by your power. Ross may try to paint you as the villain, and you were at one point, but everyone deserves a second chance. You’ve had yours and you’ve redeemed yourself. Or at least partly. The process of becoming a ‘good’ person is a long journey, one that people spend their entire lives working on. Will you?

“Miss Romanoff is at the door.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announces, breaking you away from your book. With a raised brow and a quirk in your step, you rush over to the door, tripping over your shoes scattered on the floor.

“Fuck me.” You groan out, blushing a little in embarrassment. The red turns even brighter when your door automatically unlocks, letting Natasha walk in. She immediately bursts out into laughter at your position on the ground. “I thought we were cool, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You protest, turning around to lay on your back with a sigh. Natasha comes into view with her arms crossed over her chest, looking down at you with a smirk.

“Falling for me already?” She teases, snorting when you glare at her. You grab onto her ankle, pulling her down quickly on top of you. Natasha squeals as you laugh, wrapping your arms around her with a hand covering the back of her head to protect it from the ground. Little does she know you’ve been falling for her from the moment you laid your eyes on her. Natasha lets out a huff as she adjusts herself on the ground. Your body automatically fits between hers like a puzzle and it’sbeyond cliché, you know, but fuck it always feels so right with her.

“My praise has created a monster. I better stop stroking your ego.” You playfully complain, smiling widely when she lets out a soft giggle. Nat’s hands rest around the back of your neck, nails scratching your skin gently exactly how you like it. Every inch of stress and worry in you disappears as you breathe her in, letting her take over you.

“Oh, you should have stopped after ‘Aphrodite’.” She whispers, leaning forward as her nose bumps softly against yours. Your eyes drift from the darkening shade of green in hers to her pink, plump lips slightly open, begging to be kissed.

“Tread carefully.” You mumble, gulping when her legs tighten around your hips, sliding over the back of your legs before finally wrapping around your waist.

“I’m always careful.” Natasha breathes out, breath hitching when you press your hips down against the space between her legs.

[A/N - SMUT WARNING]

“Anyone home?” You ask and the second Natasha slightly shakes her head, you’re leaning in, pressing your lips against hers with a soft moan of relief. She lets out a relieved sigh into the kiss, her hand coming down to rest against your jaw. She holds your face like she wants to make sure you don’t pull away from her, but you’d never dream of it. You only realise just how much you’ve missed this when your hands roam her body, running up and down the length of her thighs. The muscles of her abdomen tighten when your fingers gently trace the lines there. Her hips roll up against you at that, drawing out soft groans. With your lips open, Natasha quickly takes that opportunity to slide her tongue against yours.

This is all you need. Fuck everyone else, fuck Tony, fuck Ross, fuck the fucking accords. As long as Natasha is with you that’s all that matters. She doesn’t fight for dominance, letting you take control as your tongue explores her mouth, dancing gently with hers. Neither of you want to pull away, but you have to when she gasps as you press down against her harder.

“Fuck.” She moans softly, adjusting slightly to let you press your muscled thigh against her hot core. The moans only get louder when your lips find their way down to her pale neck. You know there’s nothing there but a thin layer of sweat, but you swear she tastes almost sweet when you suck marks into her skin, running your tongue over the wound to soothe the ache.

“I fucking need you.” You mumble against her neck, scraping your teeth against her skin as you trail up to her jaw. Leaving wet and hurried kisses across her cheek, you finally land on her lips, moaning into the kiss as she slides her tongue against your bottom lip.

“You have me.” She whispers, holding your face in her hands to look into your eyes with nothing but honesty, vulnerability, desire. It’s raw and fuck that look makes the ribs protecting your heart tighten around it until you can’t breathe anymore and need Natasha to give you all the air she has. She breathes into you, steadying your heart rate as she leisurely kisses you, taking her time to feel every inch of your lips. By the time she pulls away her lips are pink and swollen, hung open. Soft moans fall out of her open lips when you kiss her skin, down her neck, tonguing the open skin at the top of her breasts pouring out of her tight tank top.

Ripping her shirt open seems like the only logical thing to do if you want to keep your mouth on her, so that’s exactly what you do and you get the same reaction like every other time you rip her clothes. She gasps, moaning at the aggression and desperation of your actions. Arching her body up to you, her breasts practically suffocate your face; a desperate groan escapes your throat at that, your lips sucking and licking whatever skin you can reach.

“Can-” You start, hesitating as your fingers rest against the clasp of her bra pressed against her back. Natasha interrupts you with a frustrated groan, falling onto her back as she stops arching towards you.

“As cute as your respectfulness is, please stop asking. I want you, baby.” She reassures you as she takes quick breaths, reaching around her to unclasp her bra. The material loosens around her skin and you pause, eyes on her chest as she slowly pulls the material down. A smirk forms on her face as she watches your reaction, teasing by rubbing her own nipple over the lace. Fuck. She’s a fucking tease, the biggest tease ever. And she knows how badly she affects you; you can see the cockiness in her eyes. This new... confidence you see in her is insanely fucking hot. Natasha tuts when your face surges down, tugging on your hair to keep your mouth away from her chest. “Magic words?” She seductively whispers with a cocked brow. You must look like a fucking dog in heat right now with the way you’re panting, almost drooling as you look down at her perked bud.

“Please. Fuck, please, please, please.” You beg over and over again, giving no shits about ‘dominance’ and the bullshit power balance. You want her so fucking bad you’d let her tie you up if she asked.

“You really need me that bad?” She asks in a quiet voice, a little disbelief in her tone. Does she really still doubt how deeply your feelings go for her? You rip your attention from her body, pulling yourself up slowly until your eyes line up with hers. Nat gulps a little at the closeness and the intensity in your eyes. You can see the specks of green, the swirls of different shades coming together perfectly. This is your home.

“Do I?” You whisper, gently flipping the two of you around until she’s on top of you. Carefully grabbing her wrist, you help her hand trail down your body, brushing over your tight muscles and stopping just above the pulsing heat between your legs.

“Baby…” Natasha whispers in awe, adoration, pure desire dripping out of her voice when you pull her hand under the loose band of your sweatpants. Her fingers land over your soaked panties and both of you gasp into each other’s mouths at the touch.

“Feel that?” You breathe out, hot breath against Natasha’s lips. She can’t contain herself anymore, leaning forward quickly to attach her lips to yours. Your hips roll against her fingers, begging for some pressure and she gives in with ease. Slender fingers tease your throbbing clit over your panties, taking in shaky breaths as her lips brush over yours. She’s overwhelmed, in awe at your submission to her. You’d do anything to reassure her, to show her just how much you need her.

“Fuck.” She groans when she tugs your panties to the side, fingers finally sliding through your soaked folds. Letting out a shaky breath, you run your hands up and down her body until they settle on her ass in those shorts that just drive you fucking insane. How she walks around the house without anyone straight up ogling her is beyond you. You kiss her languidly, letting her fingers explore until she teases your entrance with a finger. Spreading your legs open a little, you give her space to fit between your legs comfortably.

“Don’t tease.” You demand with a playful glare. She giggles, hair falling down as a curtain covering the two of you; her lips brush against yours just as she pushes a finger in with ease. “Shit.” You moan softly against her lips, walls already clenching around Natasha’s fingers. It should be embarrassing but it’s not; if anything, it’s a compliment to her. She grins at that, slowly getting into a rhythm as you let out soft moans. The blush on her cheeks isn’t because of the body heat or the strain in her arm, but because you’re reacting this way from her touch.

“You’re soaked for me.” She breathes into your ear as she leaves a soft kiss on your cheek, down your jawline. As she feels your pussy pulse at her words, she lets out a low, raspy laugh that pangs right at your core. Holy shit. “Want me to take care of you, baby?” She teases as she curls her finger, pressing another one at your entrance. Dipping in and out, teasing you, Natasha chuckles again as you let out a frustrated groan. Your legs wrap around her, pulling her in harshly. She gasps at that as her fingers push deeper into you.

“Oh, fuck. Please.” You moan louder, throwing your head back at the stretch. Natasha immediately latches onto your neck, trying to leave marks but groaning in frustration when she remembers she can’t; you heal too fast. “I wish.” You pant out as her pace increases, her palm slapping against your skin.

“I know.” She answers, sinking her teeth deep into your skin when she realises there’s no real consequences to it. You let out a gasp at the sharp pain mixed with pleasure. The pain disappears as you heal, only leaving pure fucking pleasure.

“Do that again.” You demand, panting and rolling your hips against her hand. Natasha gladly leaves bites across your neck, watching them heal rapidly with interest. “Shit.” You let out soft groans as Natasha curls her fingers, hitting every spot, dragging you closer to the edge. Eager to make you cum, Natasha thrusts harder, faster, using her thumb to rub tight circles over your sensitive clit.

“Show me how bad you needed me.” She whispers in a deep, cloudy voice, coming up to press her forehead against yours, taking in every moan you let out as you reach your high. When you cum it’s like running through the forest in her eyes, the rain cleansing you, the birds squeaking their songs to you. Running and running until you stop in front of Natasha, crashing your lips against hers like it’s the first and last time. “Fuck, baby.” She moans as you cum, your pussy tightening around her fingers, pulsing, juices flowing. Your body freezes for a moment, shuddering when she slides her fingers out, keeping her thumb pressed against your clit. One more brush and she pulls away as your body twitches from how sensitive you are. Holy shit you missed this.

[A/N - SMUT OVER]

“Does that prove it?” You breathe out as you catch your breath, letting out a huff of laughter as Natasha rolls her eyes, falling on top of you. She lays her head on your chest, letting your fingers run up and down her naked back. Sighing, you rest your head against your hand with your other arm stretched out. Anticipating what comes next isn’t hard: pillowtalk. What else? Of course Natasha will want to talk about what happened at training, about Wanda’s possessiveness and jealousy. Although she’s more mature than Wanda, those feelings are completely natural and out of our control. You didn’t miss the way she looked at you and Wanda during the meeting with Ross; she was jealous. She needed reassurance from you. But it’s unfair of her to even expect that when she had Bruce sitting right next to her, possessively glaring at you.

“What’s on your mind?” She speaks up, leaving a soft kiss over your chest.

“Huh?” You mumble, shaking your head to get away from your thoughts and give your attention to her. Nat smirks slightly at you, running her fingers over your tank top.

“Deep in thought, are you? Can’t focus on me?” She teases with a playful pout, shifting until she’s straddling your waist. Your eyes automatically fall on her naked chest, nipples perked up waiting for your attention. Oh, all your fucking focus is on her. But then your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you haven’t even had breakfast yet and it’s already 3 in the afternoon. The two of you laugh at that as you sit up, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her softly.

“Why don’t we recharge, yeah? I’ll go pick something up.” You stand up with her in your arms, gently placing her down on the bed, but the second you try to pull away she pulls you back in, tightening her legs around you.

“I can cook something up, you don’t have to go.” Natasha pleads, hands reaching for you. With a chuckle, you drop on top of her, kissing her cheek, forehead, nose, and finally leave a peck on her lips. She blushes at your actions, running her hands up and down your back.

“I’d rather not have you burn the compound down. I’ll just order something then.” You tease with a laugh, reaching to get your phone from the nightstand. But Natasha quickly holds onto your wrist a little too tight, looking at you with wide eyes.

“No! Leave the phone. Come on, stay in bed with me.” She begs, pouting slightly, nervously. That’s...unusual. Narrowing your eyes at her, you let out a sigh. Something’s going on. Why won’t she let you leave?

“Natasha, what’s going on?” You ask her with soft eyes begging her for honesty. But your heart is already clenching in your chest, feeling a betrayal coming.

“I-” Your phone rings, Wanda’s name and picture coming up, a selfie you had taken with her a while ago. Natasha reaches the phone before you do, declining the call. An angry expression forms as you look down at her, leaning up to rest on your hands.

“What the fuck? What are you doing?” You demand an answer but she simply puts on a dumb face, tilting her head slightly, resting her hands behind your head to scratch softly. That would typically soothe you but you know she’s keeping something from you right now.

“I just want some time with you, baby.” Natasha says in a sweet voice, sickeningly sweet. She leans in, trying to connect her lips to yours to distract you but you pull your head back. She’s keeping you here for a reason and it’s not to spend time with you. She could easily come out to get food with you, but she wants to keep you here. In the compound.

“Tony.” You practically growl out at the realisation. His compound, his money, his team. Natasha, your girl, on his side. Her touch suddenly feels like hot coal on your skin so you quickly move off her, sitting on the edge of the bed with your back to her. Wanda betrayed you and Natasha knows how much that hurt...and she’s doing the same thing now? You understand if she wants to sign the accords but keeping you here like a fucking prisoner? Tricking you using sex?

“Y/N, there’s a lot of things you don’t under-” Natasha starts aftering sighing, shuffling on the bed to sit on her knees.

“Don’t fucking patronise me. He told you to keep me here, didn’t he?” You jump away as she rests a hand on your shoulder. Standing up with your arms crossed over your chest, you keep an emotionless expression on your face as you look down at her. With a sheet covering her naked chest, her eyes plead for you to understand but what the fuck is there to understand?

“He did. But it’s complicated out there right n-” 

“And Wanda?” You interrupt Natasha, asking her why she had to decline the call. With a sigh, Natasha shuffles off the bed, picking her discarded bra off the floor. You lift your head up to avoid looking at her while she gets herself changed.

“She’s refusing to sign.” Natasha says quietly, but you already know Wanda doesn’t want to sign them. Nat seems to anticipate your next question, taking her time as she finds one of your sweatshirts from your wardrobe to put on.

“Did you?” You hesitate before asking and she stays silent for a moment before turning around to face you.

“I did.” She says with a guilty expression, avoiding your eyes.

“Wow.” You scoff out, walking over to the door. It opens automatically for you and you don’t hold it open for Natasha as you stroll over to the kitchen.

“Listen-” You hear her following after you, her bare feet tapping on the ground. Opening the fridge, you grab the carton of milk and pour yourself a cup. You need a little comfort right now.

“No, no. We don’t have to agree on everything, even if this document was made to take away my freedom.” You sigh, turning around to get the powder for your chocolate milk, but Natasha’s already gotten it out for you. She hands it to you, leaning against the counter as you pour a couple scoops in.

“That’s not true, Y/N. It’s just to keep us in check.” She reasons, hopping up to sit on the counter. You can see her point, but what you don’t understand is why she’s refusing to see the bigger picture here. Perhaps the intent now is to ensure the safety of the world as the Avengers untamed may be dangerous. But agendas change. With a frustrated sigh, you drop your spoon into the sink ignoring the way Natasha flinches at the loud sound of it clinking.

“I understand that you have a lot of guilt and you think signing this will somehow redeem you. But you’re wrong. Redemption comes from fighting for what you believe in. Fighting for good, for freedom, for the people out there who can’t.” Remembering Steve’s words, you echo them to her hoping they’ll integrate into her mind. But Natasha stands her ground stubbornly.

“Not every fight needs an army of people with powers. Dangerous powers.” She emphasises and you can’t help but take offence to that. With narrowed eyes you scoff at her, taking a large gulp of your chocolate milk. It does absolutely nothing to soothe you and this debate is slowly turning into an argument.

“Oh, so I’m dangerous now?” You almost let out a humourless laugh, but you keep your emotions in check, clenching your jaw. You thought Natasha knew you. You thought you knew her. Clearly you were wrong.

“I’m referencing this entire team, not just you. You know what I think of you.” Natasha’s voice drops down to a whisper at the last sentence, her hand softly holding your arm. But that only angers you because what do you really know? What has she told you other than the fact that she used to have feelings for you? For all you know she got over you by getting under Bruce, and all she wanted was to get laid. Why else is she giving him chance after chance?

“Do I? Do I really, Natasha? Because one second you’re hugging me and kissing me and taking the salad off my plate, and the next you’re pulling away. You’re with him, looking at him, and-” You vent, starting off angry until your voice cracks a little, the hurt written all over your face. Natasha interrupts with a sigh, stepping back as she hugs her arms around herself.

“Bruce is gone, Y/N. Last night I told him I chose you. He ‘Hulk’ed out, took a jet and left.” Nat reveals, leaning against the kitchen island as you sigh with your back to her. Taking your time to wash your dirty dishes, you grip the counter with a clenched jaw before turning around to face her.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry-” You both simultaneously apologise, letting out soft chuckles at each other. It’s hard to believe that she chose you over him. Really hard to believe. You’ve been horrible to her, you’ve hurt her, put her in danger. And she still chose you. “Bucky blew up the UN. King T’Chaka is dead. Steve’s on the run with him, and we’re pretty sure Wanda’s gone with him.” Natasha reveals after a moment of silence. Bucky? Really? What would push him to do something like that? The last time you spoke to him he looked exhausted; starting a war would be the absolute last thing he’d want to do.

“Shit.” You sigh, walking over to the living space to drop down on the couch. Natasha follows you but doesn’t sit down. She’s nervous, scared that anything she says could trigger you. At least she knows she fucked up instead of defending herself.

“Tony asked me to…” She trails on, reminding you of why you’re angry at her.

“Right.” You answer bluntly after clearing your throat. Natasha lets out a frustrated sigh, trying to gather her thoughts. You lean back, watching her amusedly as she scrambles words together.

“Part of the reason I agreed is just-I don’t-ugh. I don’t want to lose you.” Natasha stutters until she quietly exposes her feelings. With a soft smile, you reach your hand out and hold hers, pulling her into you. Looking up at her as she looks down, subtly biting her bottom lip, you can’t help the softness in your eyes. 

“You think I’d leave without you?” You ask in a quiet tone, lifting her hand and leaving a soft kiss, maintaining eye contact. A blush creeps up her neck to her cheeks as she lets you pull her onto your lap. Her hands drape over your shoulders as she straddles you, resting her chin on your head as you bury your face into her neck, breathing her in. You can never be mad at her too long, because you understand her. You understand her reasoning, you understand her intent, you understand she can’t put anyone above what she believes in.

“We’re on different sides here, Y/N.” Natasha whispers somewhat opposingly, protesting against your sudden forgiveness. This won’t work. That’s what she’s trying to tell you. 

“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. Just...not Tony’s.” You mumble annoyedly when you mention him. She sighs at your response, leaning back to hold your face in her gentle hands. You lean into her touch with ease, eyes fluttering as you let yourself get caught up in her touch.

“Baby-” Nat starts but you already know what she’ll say. You interrupt her quickly, reassuring her with your words.

“Your reasons are different from his. I understand. I promise you I understand why you had to sign them. But I can’t. I won’t.” You stand your ground but so does Natasha. You’re at a conflict here and there’s not much to do about it but spend whatever time you have left together.

“I know. I didn’t expect you to.”  Natasha sighs, resting her forehead against yours like she’s trying to push her thoughts into your mind. It’s hard for her to communicate her feelings sometimes, but you get that; it’s been hard for you too. Hell, the two of you went months crushing on each other without speaking up about your feelings.

“It can’t be Bucky.” You mumble, thinking about what Natasha told you about the UN. It’s hard to believe he would do something like that, not after everything he’s been through, all his progress and path to redemption. Unless something major triggered him, even mind-controlled him, you know he wouldn’t have done something like that.

“Steve says Bucky’s claiming he was framed. Steve believes him.” She reveals and of course Steve would stick by Bucky’s side. But he also sticks by truth and justice, so if Steve believes Bucky was framed, so do you.

“Do you?” You ask Natasha and she shifts uncomfortably in your lap before clearing her throat, avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t know.” She whispers. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, just holding each other, until she speaks up nervously. “If you don’t sign the accords, it’s retirement or...you’ll be a fugitive.” She’s clearly scared; you can tell by her quiet tone, shaky voice, trembling lips. She doesn’t want you to leave, and the look on her face reminds you of Wanda’s tearful eyes that night you had to say goodbye to go on the mission.

“I know.” You reply quietly, clearing your throat after hearing your hoarse tone. Natasha’s fingers trail from your neck to your cheek, holding your face in her hand. She sighs as you lean into her touch, turning your head to leave a long kiss on her hand. You don’t want to go.

“If you’re on my side...stay by it. Please.” She begs, pleading with her words and her eyes so wide and watery. You don’t want to go.

“I should go, Nat.” You clear your throat as you move her off your lap to stand up and walk away. Hearing the sound of her taser from behind you, your head drops down as you let out a sigh. You don’t want to fight her, but she’s been given orders and you have to fight for what you believe in. You both do.

“You know I can’t let you do that.” Natasha says in a shaky voice as you turn around slowly to face her. She’s already in a fighting stance, although she looks a little shaky. It’s not out of fear of you though; it’s out of fear of what this will do to the both of you, to your ‘relationship’ or whatever you want to call it. Is this the end? Is this where you run off with Steve and Wanda and never come back?

“But you will.” Suddenly, you hear an unmistakable Sokovian accent from the side. Both of you snap your heads to the side to see Wanda’s eyes glowing red as she stands in the archway, arms spread out by her side with her fingers wisping magic. Before either of you can get a word out, she shoves Natasha against the wall with her powers, knocking her out with ease. “Come on, we have to go.” You quickly rush over to Natasha’s unconscious form, an angry scowl on your face. Checking her pulse, you let out a relieved sigh when you feel one.

“You didn’t have to hurt her, Wanda.” You angrily yell at her as you turn your head to face her. Wanda simply rolls her eyes at you like she didn’t just throw Natasha against the damn wall.

“She’ll be fine. We don’t have much time, Steve’s waiting.” She tells you, already walking through the hallway. But you can’t find it in you to move, not with Natasha’s head in your lap. You scan her soft features, your mind flashing to the green of her eyes pleading for you to stay.

“I-I can’t leave her.” You whisper as tears pool in your eyes. They don’t drop though. This can’t be a goodbye; you refuse to make this a goodbye. It can’t just end like this.

“Y/N, she kept you locked here for Stark. She would leave you if she was in your position. You know she would.” Wanda comes up behind you, boots echoing on the ground. Her hand rests on your shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to get you to move. But you still defend Natasha’s choices.

“She fights for what she believes in.” You argue because it’s something you’ve always admired about her. Even with teary eyes, shaky legs, and an aching heart, she still stood up to you because she puts good above all, even her own wants and needs.

“And so do you. So let’s go. Now!” Wanda reminds you that you’re just as resilient. With a final kiss to Natasha’s forehead, a tear dropping onto her skin, you carefully lay her head down and follow Wanda as you run down the stairs.

“Buck!” You shout out when you see him standing against a van with his hands crossed over his chest. Lifting his head up at your voice, he smiles softly as he takes his cap off, letting his hair flow down.

“Wolfie.” He calls quietly when your jog slows down as you near him. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulls you in, hugging you tightly. He’s relieved you’re on his side.

“I’m glad you’re okay, bud.” You mumble against him, pulling away after a final squeeze. “Who’s this guy?” You refer to the man in the van, just stumbling out. He goes on to fangirl over Steve before it’s revealed that he can shift his body into a miniature size. After suiting up just in case, the team - or half the team realistically - make their way to the nearest airport. You’ll follow Steve as long as you believe in what he does: freedom. Wanda’s the one who reminded you how important your freedom really is. You’ve been forced to be a soldier your entire life, listening to and following orders no matter what you believe is right or wrong. By signing the accords, you’re signing over your right to choose. Natasha might be okay with that, not trusting herself to choose to do the right thing, but you’re not. You’ll never be okay with that, not anymore.

Once you reach the airport, everyone takes their positions as per Steve’s request. Sam takes his time using redwing to find a Quinjet, scanning the airport. As Steve makes his way across the airport, you hear Tony before seeing him. His suit is pretty loud. Watching them argue through the window, you sigh and turn your back to them. It’s the same thing over and over again. Wanda holds your hand in hers with a soft smile, asking you if you’re okay. But you tug your hand away from her, still annoyed at her for hurting Natasha. That goes out the window though when you hear Natasha’s voice speaking up, warning Steve about punching his way through this conflict. You look across at her with nothing but conflict in your eyes, clenching your jaw tightly. As much as you disagree with Tony, you want to be standing there next to her.

“I’m trying to keep-” Tony sighs. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.” He argues, pleading with his eyes.

“You did that the moment you signed.” Steve calmly responds. There’s no conflict within him, no tremor in his tone like there was in Tony’s. Steve’s belief is so much stronger than Tony’s, but Tony’s also insanely stubborn. He won’t switch sides, no matter what Steve says.

“All right, we’re done. You’re gonna turn Barnes over, you’re gonna come with us now because it’s us or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite.”

“We found it. Their Quinjet’s in hangar five, north runway.” Sam speaks into the comms. Steve raises his hands and Clint immediately shoots an arrow to tear the webbing the Spidey-Kid put around them. Let the fight begin. You follow Clint and Wanda as they make their way out, rushing towards the hangar. But hearing Tony approaching, you push Wanda to the side. She just about misses an incoming missile from him.

“Y/N, I think you hurt Natasha’s feelings.” Tony speaks up in his typical ‘teasing’ voice, which is more annoying than anything else.

“You locked me in my room.” You practically growl at him, clenching your fists so hard they crack and you’re not sure if it’s just a crack or a broken bone.

“Okay, first, that’s an exaggeration. Second, I did it to protect you.” He argues and you scoff at his attempt. Seriously? The man who said you’re not his friend in front of the entire team suddenly wants to protect you?

“Me? Or you?” You argue back with a raised brow. He can’t answer your question so he diverts to Clint instead. What a coward.

“Hey Clint.”

“Hey man.” 

“Retirement doesn’t suit you. Tired of playing golf?” He teases; it’s his way of showing his superiority. But talking too much and over people only shows his desperate need to be dominant. It’s embarrassing now that you think about it.

“Well, I played 18, shot 18. Just can’t seem to miss.” Clint smoothly replies, shooting his arrows at him. Tony dodges pretty easily, but Clint had other plans.

“First time for everything.” Tony cockily responds but Clint only smirks at him.

“Made you look.” He whispers just as a car from the car park above flies towards Tony. Wanda’s the one controlling them, flicking her hands as she aims the cars down at Tony. He can’t dodge them all, no matter how hard he tries. You can’t help snorting a little when she finally crushes him to the ground. She gives you a smirk, looking you up and down as she struts past you.

“Don’t look so cocky.” You playfully tell her with a quick roll of your eyes, following her.

“There’s our ride.” Clint breathes out, pointing towards the Quinjet.

“Come on!” Steve yells, suddenly appearing in front of you. Your team makes a run for it but you’re all stopped in your tracks when Vision blasts a line through the ground. This motherfucker.

“Captain Rogers. I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now.” He speaks out with authority. Everyone waits silently as Tony and the rest of his team make their way next to Vision. They all line up ahead and a frown makes its way onto your face when your eyes meet Natasha’s. She can barely keep eye contact, choosing to lock her gaze onto Clint instead.

“What do we do, Cap?” Sam asks after everyone gathers together, all with somewhat anxious expressions. It’s only Tony and Steve with murderous glares; the rest of you have been forced to pick a side and fight their battle with them.

“We fight.” He grunts out, slowly making a move forward. With a sigh, you and everyone else follows. That walk turns into a jog pretty quickly, too quickly for your liking. It starts up fast, everyone choosing an opponent to attack. You and Bucky fight together against T’Challa, throwing combos that he easily dodges to your surprise. Bucky throws an uppercut with his metal arm, but T’Challa simply jumps back up, claws out and ready to pounce. Thinking you could attack from behind fails for you when he drops down, allowing Bucky’s metal fist to hit you square in the face.

“Fuck.” You groan out as you drop onto your back. Your head falls to the side as blood rushes out your nose. Your eyes land on Natasha and Clint fighting and you stumble up to your feet. There’s an unsettling feeling in your stomach watching her fight her best friend, and that feeling grows stronger when you see Wanda’s red wisps of magic wrap around Natasha’s foot, throwing her back. With wide eyes, you run over to her, dropping to your knees beside her. “You okay? Are you hurt?” You ask with worried eyes glancing over her features. She lets out a groan, holding onto her back.

“Wrong side, Y/N.” Wanda calls out playfully but there’s a hint of annoyance in there too. No matter what, you keep running back to Natasha.

“She’s right.” Natasha whispers as she makes her way up to her feet. Taking you by surprise, she knees you in the chin, throwing you back slightly. With a huff you flip up, landing on your two feet.

“My fight’s not with you.” You warn her in advance, fists up as she gets into an offensive stance. The last thing you want to do is hurt her, but you can see the hangar in the distance; you need to get there. Glancing over to Wanda who’s looking over it too, your eyes meet and that’s when it hits you. Choosing Steve is choosing Wanda, and Sam, and Bucky, and even the new ant guy. It’s committing to a life with them on the run, fighting the ‘good’ fight whenever you’re needed. But do you really want to fight? Thinking over what Bucky said, what Ross said, your mind drifts to something else. Or someone else. Who is your fight with?

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Natasha apologies in advance before throwing a widow bite across the floor. The electricity runs through your veins, dropping you to your knees with a gasp. But you fight through it quickly, gripping onto Natasha’s ankle as she tries to run past you.

“Come with me.” You silently beg, plead, pulling her down to you. Meeting your eyes, she sighs in conflict. Her eyes glance from yours to your lips and back up again. You hear Sam and Steve talking in the comms about a distraction but this isn’t your fight. You rip it out of your ear and throw it behind you, making a clear point to Natasha. “If you’re on my side, stay by it.” You echo her earlier words to her and the conflicted look changes in her eyes. There’s no more defence, no more walls, no more guilt. She simply gulps, breaking the distance between the two of you to crash your lips together. You gasp into the kiss, lips trembling at the rawness and the commitment she’s just made. Breaking apart, forehead to forehead, you grin from ear to ear before standing up with her hands in yours. You make a run for it the second you spot a parked car, easily hot wiring it. The last thing you see in the distance as you speed out of the airport is Wanda’s body falling into Vision’s arms.

“What’re we doing here?” She asks confusedly, reading the words ahead. You park far enough for the guards not to pay attention to you, but they don’t really see anyway since the day turned into night. You can hide, sneak through the shadows.

“I have to see her.” You whisper as you climb out of the car, hiding in the bushes. Pulling out another pair of Tony’s glasses you swiped before you left, you put them on and ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the blueprints.

“What? Why?” Natasha whisper-yells, following you through the bushes. She poses a great question though. Why? Why do you have to see her? All you know is you feel like she’s calling for you, like she’s waiting. Your goodbye wasn’t really that at all. It wasn’t the goodbye she wanted, and it wasn’t really the one you wanted either. She’s still in your fucking head and you need to get her out of it.

“I don’t know. I just-I just do.” You breathe out. You need to get her out of your head.

“Okay, well, let’s go visit-” Natasha begins, but you scoff out, interrupting her.

“You really think Tony hasn’t made every authority know we’re fugitives right now?” You can’t see her expression well in the dark but you’re sure she’s blushing a little in embarrassment at her little mistake. She follows you quietly as you lead the way.

“Good point.”

“Come on.” You whisper, silently climbing over the gate. 5 minutes of sneaking and the both of you are finally standing outside the bars, you with the keys in your hand. You can’t seem to take your eyes off her still figure sitting on the bed. It’s dark so you can’t see anything but her silhouette and it absolutely terrifies you, especially when she tilts her head a little and you hear a quiet but eerie laugh come from her. You turn your head to the side to look away, gulping, almost shivering, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hello, dear.” She whispers into the dark, knowing you’re there. You take a cautious step back but Natasha is right behind you, holding you a little confused. She looks at you with narrowed eyes, brows coming together, but you don’t have an answer for her. You don’t understand why you feel such a...a deep drop in your stomach, an ache in your heart, a tightening in your chest whenever you’re near Bertha. The bed creaks as she slowly makes her way up to her feet. She’s weak, dragging her bare feet on the cold ground as she steps, moving until she’s in the middle of the cage she’s in. She steps into the light and that’s when you see the wide, toothy smile aimed at you. It sends chills down your spine. Her head snaps to the side, looking at Natasha with wide eyes. “I see you’ve changed your mind.” She says, referring to the basement. Right. That.

“Why-Why are you still in my head?” Your attempt to sound intimidating came out in a cracked voice and a whisper to which she laughs at. Your hands shake as you stick and turn the key, opening the gate and stepping in cautiously.

“I would have killed her. The witch.” Bertha hisses out, elaborating on her plan that you ruined. “You had to break one...to save the other. Taking the one you love more away from you would have broken you...and left you with the one you broke.” Just the thought of that makes you take in a sharp breath, avoiding looking back to where you know Natasha is watching, listening, being forced to address the one thing she didn’t want to. “Do you forgive her?” Bertha asks and you look up to see her gaze on Natasha. But she stays silent. “You can’t, can you? It hurts to be half-loved. I felt your pain when Y/N chose to save the witch’s life over yours. I felt your heart crack, just like your bones cracked when my soldiers beat the fight out of you.” You take a step forward with a low growl at her words, glaring with nothing but murder in your eyes. Natasha doesn’t move to hold onto you, just stares into Bertha’s eyes struggling to hide her fear. “She didn’t save you when my soldiers came to take you. She didn’t save you when I gave her the choice to.” She continues, pressing salt into the wound until Natasha has to take a deep breath, turning around to break Bertha’s eerie gaze. That’s when she turns her attention back to you. “I would have beaten every inch of her until there was nothing but black and blue left on her skin.” She sneers, going into detail of how she would have killed Wanda. Your fists tighten, nails digging into your skin trying to shake the image out of your head. But Bertha’s in your head, Bertha’s forcing you to see, to watch, watch Natasha being taken away from you, watch Wanda being beaten until she’s too broken to hope for an escape. “Just like you took my love away from me, I will take yours when I get out of here. I’ll cut her limbs off until there’s nothing left but her pretty little face. And just like you did...I will crush ...and crush ...and crush until her skull cracks, until her brain is splattered on the ground, so when you remember her death you know it was you that-” No. No, no, no. Get out!

“Y/N! Y/N, stop!” Natasha yells out behind you but you only hear distortion as your fists take control over you. All you see is that wide fucking smile, now with less teeth as you brutally attack her. Natasha tries to pull you off but you pay her no mind as you punch and punch and punch until the back of Bertha’s head cracks against the concrete. All you see is red. But...but all you hear is emptiness. She’s not in your head anymore. She’s here, on the ground, blood pooling under her head but that smile...that smile will never leave. Because she knows what she has done; this is just the beginning.

You stumble up to your feet slowly, turning around with bloodied fists, a heaving chest and wide emotionless eyes with tears dropping. Your tears mix with Bertha’s blood. It’s hard to explain Natasha’s expression as she covers her mouth with her hand, staring with equally wide eyes. You see the conflict in her eyes is back again.

“Closure.” You whisper, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “Closure.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since you...but the sun is up when you open your eyes. Well, your eyes have been open for hours, but you couldn’t see a thing. Just her smile. Your phone ringing brings you out of your daydreaming; you squint at the harsh sunlight in your eyes. Turning your head, your eyes meet the side of Natasha’s head as she focuses on the road ahead. There’s a little blood on her cheek and you don’t remember her getting hurt. But looking down at your hands slowly, you realise she probably helped you out of the prison and into the car.

“H-Hello?” You answer the phone in a monotone voice, quiet, almost a whisper. All you need to hear is her sigh of relief and you know it’s her. But you can’t. Not after what Bertha made you see. It was more than hypothetical; you’re too dangerous for Wanda, not just physically but emotionally. You’ve already broken her in a way and you will do it again.

“Please don’t leave me.” She skips past hellos, immediately begging for you to come back. “Please. Y/N, please come back. I need you. I can’t do this without you.” She begs and begs and you can hear the tears, you can hear the quiver in her voice, and she can hear yours as you take in a shaky breath. But before you utter a word, you throw the phone out the open window like it’s burning your hand. You can’t. You won’t. Natasha sits in silence as you cry, clenching her jaw to keep herself from speaking up. You don’t bring up what happened and neither does she.

“Are-Are you taking me in?” You whisper, hesitating before asking. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her head when she senses your eyes on her. “Where are we going?” You ask to which she huffs, a small smirk on her lips.

“I know a guy.”

The air is different here, away from the land, away from cities polluting this planet. Staring ahead, all you can see is the sun on the horizon and endless waves of clear water. Perhaps you could stay here. You could. You would. You’d stay here, on this ship, doing nothing with your life. Because doing nothing is better than doing something that would hurt people. And everything you do seems to lead to someone’s death, someone’s pain and suffering. Perhaps you should stay here. Alone.

“Hey.” Natasha speaks up, coming up beside you. But you’re not alone. She’ll never leave you. She throws her phone off the side of the boat, landing into the water quietly. Holding Tony’s glasses in your hand, you sigh in...content? Disappointment? You used to be friends in a way. He used to care; he’s the one who gave you the glasses before you left on your mission. But he never really cared for anyone but himself; he did what he thought he should be doing as a leader of this team. Of the Avengers, that is no more now. Everyone...scattered around the globe, having nothing to fight but their own inner demons at this point. With no threat and no war, what else is there to do but confront yourself?

“So.” You clear your throat after throwing the glasses into the water.

“So.” Natasha echoes teasingly with a soft smile. She leans against you, head resting on your shoulder.

“What next?”