Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

„Oh I like her! “

These were the first words Alanna ever said to her. Well not exactly to her, but for her. At least Ilsa liked to think of it that way.

That same fateful night had also been the night she was set to peace. Though not in the way everybody thought. Her supposed death had granted her freedom for the very first time in her life, though she still felt like she was trapped. Not able to control or help. That night on the bridge Gabriel almost killed her, that was the truth. She had to admit it humbled her a bit. When Ethan found her, she was half bled to death from the deep stab-wound that had almost pierced her heart. Almost.

But to trick the entity into thinking it’s plan was working, someone important to Ethan had to die, so she wordlessly understood she had to be ... well dead. They had discussed what had to be done in such a scenario. No new Identity. No contact with the outside world. Not a single trace. She had to disappear and live in total isolation where no digital trace of her could be found. Ever.

If there was one thing Ilsa Faust didn’t mind about the situation, it was this.
If there was one thing the White Widow minded about the situation it was exactly this.

As Alanna Mitsopolis regained consciousness on the train, she went through a series of different emotional states: confusion, fury, nausea, more fury, hatred, again nausea and then a slowly setting feeling of helplessness she only rarely felt. Hardly ever. Actually never. She had nothing to hold onto, nowhere to go, nothing valuable to what the world would soon become. Something so unfamiliar to her, considering the name of the White Widow was always associated with power anytime it was spoken. So naturally she had no other choice but to flee.

The unbearably nice person Ethan Hunt was, he made a protesting Grace slip her some coordinates after leaving her in her train compartment. He just couldn’t bear leaving a helpless woman targeted after he had robbed her of all her power -by that meaning the key. And all that even though she refused to join their side in Venice. Alanna found him to be a rather naive man -not at all what she expected while she still thought he was the infamous John Lark, and she surely wasn't "helpless", but she didn’t mind his thinking because it was rather convenient for her now.

At the moment she was on a small fishing boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea with only her brother Zola, two of her men and a suitcase. A single suitcase. It was humiliating. She was surrounded by such disgustingly regular people that it felt almost like a dream. Or a nightmare. Her brother was talking to a fisherman nearby, and she caught some snippets of the conversation while the coast came into sight again.

“I don’t know what is with you rich people that you all come to little island. I had young woman just like this one come here last month.”

He gestured his head at the widow. Interesting, Alanna thought while she squinted her eyes, and the outline of a small figure came in sight at the beach in front of her. Then it slowly -very slowly dawned on her.

"Alanna maybe we should leave."

Zola was always so concerned but she -already knowing better just waved her brother off with an elegant swish of her hand. After she stepped foot on the makeshift pier, being steadied by one of her men’s hands he offered to her after testing the steadiness of the contraption, she gracefully lifted her big white sun hat, and her gaze met with steel blue eyes. It involuntarily made a shiver run down her spine. As she took off her heeels and started slowly approaching the woman a cold grin spread across her face.

“So you aren’t dead after all.”

“As much as I would like to be right now” Ilsa sighs, “No, I am not dead.”

Chapter Text

“How could this get any worse?”, Ilsa thought with every click of Alanna’s heels as the widow walked the steps along the promenade behind her.

“How could this get any better?”, Alanna though with every sway of Ilsa’s hips in front of her face that was plastered with a satisfied smirk, she wasn’t even trying to hide.

This was how it started. And sadly, at least in Alanna’s opinion, also how it almost ended because as small as the Greek Island was, it was not entirely impossible to avoid a person if you really wanted to, and much to her displeasure that was exactly what Ilsa was trying to do. Still Alanna’s ego was a little too big to run after a woman she barely knew, so she just bought the most acceptable house she could find, located on the outskirts of the little village and called it a day. At least until she got bored.

Images of Ilsa started popping up in her daily thoughts, more than she was willing to allow, slowly creeping into her mind and wrapping their slender fingers around her consciousness, determining her every movement, every breath, every heartbeat. It was too much, and she certainly had way too little to do besides shielding her paper white skin from the burning midday sun and ordering her men around until she couldn’t find anything left for them to do. That was such a rarity, it threw them all completely off track, and they ended up loitering around her awkwardly until she ordered them away with an annoyed wave of her hand. This couldn’t possibly be the rest of her life. She was a busy, dangerous woman, so naturally she had to do busy and dangerous things. And when the pressure eventually became too much, her choice of what it had to be, she would be spending her time on, could not have been any clearer.

Ilsa was so surprised her plan was working out so well, she almost sabotaged it herself by letting Alanna Mitsopolis consume her thoughts without her presence even being needed. The woman was driving her insane in a weirdly fascinating way and she almost became paranoid because named person’s absence had been especially noticeable over the last weeks. Meanwhile she herself, mostly spent time fixing things around her little seaside cottage and adapting it to her lifestyle. The only problem was, she had to find a lifestyle first. She wasn’t used to having so much time for pleasure and she also wasn’t very good at it. So the hollow void in her chest seemed to expand with every senseless activity she did and the only thing that could relieve the pressure was something she didn’t even dare to let herself think of. Still, seeking what she had forbid herself, Ilsa Faust went out to eat that day.

The dim lights around seaside tavern glistened in her watchful eyes as she took in her surroundings. Her light yellow dress -a hint of satin fabric falling just beneath her knees, caught the eyes of passers-by. She felt ridiculous being regarded and wooed by the waiters in their typical open manner, smiled at by little children, called after by a group of boisterous teens. And there wasn't a hint of white in sight. This was not why she came here: to feel like a tourist. In fact she didn’t even know why she went out at all, so she left after the first drink. Back home she swung her leg off the light blue vespa and attempted to tame her tousled hair while tiredly approaching the door. The vehicle came with the house so she thought that Ethan must have made sure it would be there for her to use, in memory of the events in Morocco. And Paris. Thinking about this she was so lost in thought she almost didn’t notice how weird it was that her door wasn’t locked …

In a heartbeat llsa was inside and reached for her hidden gun. Said gun was gone, replaced by a figure, dressed completely in white, sitting in a bar chair in the open kitchen. The woman’s head turned slowly, and the moonlight that mixed with the glow of a singular candle highlighted her curved lips and high cheekbones. The long shimmery summer dress draped itself over her body like a veil, wrapping it in flowy layers of sheer fabric.

“Finally, you’re home.” Alanna scrunched her nose with a little chuckle. “I was wondering where you were, darling!”

“Get out.” As much as she wanted this to be true, she didn’t really want her to leave. She just needed her to.

“Ah no. You don’t want me to leave.” She said it like a fact, not an assumption.

Shit. Ilsa’s chest began to slowly rise and fall with deep breaths as she tried to discreetly reach for more air. It almost felt like the widow’s piercing eyes were blocking her airways. Like she could be able to snap her neck with just one flick of her lashes.

“What makes you so sure?” She wanted to curse herself for that question because icy-blue eyes now immediately started checking her out. Almost demonstratively. Anyone could see what state she was in right now and it surely didn’t seem very confident. The vulnerability made her angry. Angry someone could make her feel this way -especially her. And then most of all she was angry that she even cared. This was not worth caring about. Not with all that was happening in the world right now.

Alanna immediately recognized the change in Ilsa’s eyes. It was almost like a chilly breeze tickled her spine and it felt exciting, not being able to assess what was going on in the brunette’s head as she slowly wandered through the room and poured herself a glass of wine.

“None for me?” In response to that, Ilsa just wordlessly stared back at her and the widow scoffed -more amused than angry. “Well that’s not very welcoming.”

“Then it’s a good thing, you’re not welcome.” She raised a thin eyebrow, and you could almost think she was enjoying herself. Devouring the look that spread over Alanna’s face, as she slowly began to lose control of the situation. This could definitely be worse. She took a sip of the wine, wetting her lips with it and then tracing them with her tongue to get a taste. Alanna’s head was spinning. She walked over to the former spy, who was now sprawled across a wooden armchair, and slowly leaned over to put her hands on either one of the armrests.

“One thing you should know about me is that I always get what I want, so it doesn’t really matter if you think I am welcome.”

“But this is my house.”

“And this is my world, darling.” She chuckled again. Ilsa lifted her chin defiantly. Was all this really happening right now? She felt the white silky fabric glide against her bare legs and unconsciously flinched at the soft touch. This only made the widow’s grin grow even wider.

“I didn’t think you could be so desperate … coming here at this hour.”

“I could say the same about you, darling. What did you put that dress on for again?” They exchanged a few glances and let the moment linger until Ilsa spoke up again.

“That should not concern you any further.”

“Hmm, and still it does.” She let her finger trace the brunette’s freckled collarbone receiving yet another cute reaction, she so adored. She loved being in control.

Ilsa shifted in her seat and then met the widow’s gaze again, this time looking more determined. “You can’t tell me you didn’t come here for something. What deal do you have to offer -white widow?”

Alanna answered with a deeply satisfied expression and leaned even more into her personal space until the assassin could feel her warm breath next to her ear. Then she spoke with a husky voice, her shiver at the sound.

“I want you. And I know you want me too.”

Chapter Text

As Alanna Mitsopolis was walking away, she internally counted the seconds.

Five… She heard a glass being placed on the table.

Four… fabric shifting, wooden tiles creaking.

Three… Nothing? She almost wanted to turn around again but suppressed the urge.

Tw- A hand gripped her by the wrist, spinned her around and in a matter of seconds soft lips slammed into her own, that were already eagerly opening themselves to the sweet sensation.

Ilsa’s strong arms pulled her in by the waist. Closer, even closer until she felt like not even a penny could fit in between their flush bodies anymore. Still it wasn’t enough. She needed more, needed closer -even closer. She hadn’t been held like this in what felt like centuries and the thought that Ilsa hadn’t been as well made her shudder with excitement. She wanted, no needed to be the one to give that kind of pleasure to her. To make her lose her mind like she herself had while thinking about a million ways this exact moment could play out. How it would feel to just-

Ilsa winced. Pulled away.

A guttural moan escaped Alanna’s body as she tasted blood on her tongue. It took her a moment to take in what she had done. In front of her stood the same woman that had looked so refined just a moment ago, breasts heaving, a bead of sweat glistening on her collarbone, the widow’s hands still clutching onto the fabric of her now wrinkled dress. Her lips were swollen and bright red. She brought her hand up and touched the small wound Alanna had left, then regarded the drop of blood that remained on the tip of her index finger.

“You bit me.” She stated, voice hoarse.

Alanna’s gaze deepened and a laugh escaped her throat. “And you really do want me.” She said it like the realization had only just now hit her after Ilsa reacted so perfectly to her teasing, but truly she had always known. Even since the first time they met back at that party when the agent took down one of the assassins, who was trying to kill Alanna, with only the force of her bare thighs. The way her lips slightly opened as she stared into her eyes for a brief second, blurring out all the chaos in the room. Protecting only her. Looking only at her. Not Lark, or Hunt or whatever his name really was. Her.

Just like she did now.

“I thought you already knew that.”

“Well then even better.” The smirk found its way back into her face as she began to trace the freckles on Ilsa’s tan skin. Her hands moved slowly up the brunette’s throat, over her reddened cheeks and ended up tangled in her hair.

“You are not making any sense do you know that?” She smiled. She. Smiled. It was so mesmerizing, the white widow couldn’t compare it to anything she’d ever experienced before, so she just stared and made sure to capture it as perfectly as she could, so she could remember every bit of it later on.

“Alanna?” The sound of her own name out of Ilsa’s mouth made her grip her hair even harder, making her flinch. Whimper. As much as Alanna liked that sound, she so badly wanted the smile back. Wanted to fill the sound of her pure laughter into a bottle and use the elixir to banish all that’s bad from the world.

What the fuck was happening to her? She wordlessly pulled Ilsa in for another kiss, the taste of iron mixing with that of wine and saliva. She didn’t really care, all she wanted was to make, whatever this was last as long as possible. Draw it out until it truly hurt. Ilsa pushed her backwards while she kissed her neck until the hollows of her knees met the edge of the armchair and she fell back roughly, her head hitting the hard wood.

Alanna groaned and she wasn’t quite sure if it was because of the painful throb at the back of her head or the one between her legs.

Ilsa groaned as well. The sight of the normally so dominant woman sitting limply in front of her made her shiver in anticipation. She’d gotten to the point where she didn’t even care about her dignity anymore. She was stuck on this island with a beautiful woman that wanted her, and she couldn’t deny she wanted her too so what should stop her?

Alanna Mitsopolis was mesmerizing, and she wanted to break her so badly.

She circled her to stand behind her and let her hands roam over the blonde’s chest whose stealthy gaze was still fixed on her, head tilted back. Ilsa let her hands slide back up to cup the widow’s face and leaned down for what seemed to be a kiss but turned out as nipping and biting her lower lip. As she pulled back, she didn’t let go of the soft flesh and made Alanna have to move with her by propping herself up on her elbows. Though it wasn’t normally what she enjoyed she found a strange delight in controlling someone so powerful. It was like a little game they played. Like trying to take the lead in a dance while in midst of it.

Ilsa’s thought must have somehow also reached Alanna in this very moment, because she flipped her body around, so now she kneeled on the chair, facing the brunette. Ilsa felt her cold fingers trace her own silhouette and shuddered. When the widow found what she was looking for she grinned at Ilsa, never breaking eye contact and slid the knife out of the garter strapped to her thigh.

“You still wear that around here, darling?” She regarded it carefully, acting like she was considering what to do with it when Ilsa was sure she already had a million ideas to choose from in that fucked up mind of hers.

“I’ll let you have it if you give me my gun back. And don’t even begin to act like you don’t know what I mean.” Alanna pouted but Ilsa was sure she had already won her over. To her it didn’t really matter which weapon she carried, the entire purpose of this was to challenge the widow. The way her eyes gleamed when a deal was proposed to her -Ilsa just couldn’t help but want to uphold that state at all times.

She inhaled sharply as the tip of the knife just gently grazed the sensitive skin on her throat. She couldn’t -wouldn’t dare to move, but in her peripheral vision she could see Alanna reaching into the folds of her dress and pulling out a black object which only seconds later hit the floor behind her with a thump.

“If you want it, go get it.” Ilsa knew what that meant. She had to kneel for Alanna. As she backed up from the cold metal on her throat and made her way around the armchair, placed awkwardly in the middle of the room, the white widow’s piercing blue eyes never left her. Slowly Alanna came to stand behind her toying with the knife, still resting in her hand. Ilsa’s heart was racing with anticipation, and her mind was racing with thoughts. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of acting as expected. At least not yet.

So she spinned around and knocked a truly flabbergasted Alanna over with one precise swing of her leg to the backs of the woman’s knees, then leaped out of her position on the floor -hands on the ground one leg tucked beneath her and the other outstretched- and blocked the widow’s fall with her own body. The whole movement had resulted in her dress now resting, scrunched together, atop her hips. The blade, still in Alanna’s hand, had grazed her upper arm and left a superficial cut that made the widow's pupils grow bigger as she noticed it. The second wound she had inflicted on Ilsa today. Though the brunette had to admit this one was pretty much her fault. What she also hadn’t thought of before was that in result of her little act of rebellion Alanna was now positioned on her knees. Directly between Ilsa’s legs.

She grinned. “Well that did not go according to plan for you, did it?”

Ilsa only stared at her, breathing heavily. Her aching cunt answered that question for her effortlessly but apparently that wasn’t enough for a Mitsopolis.

“Did it?” She spoke more impatiently now -hissed at Ilsa- her voice deepening as she rested her hand on her stomach and slowly pushed the brunette’s torso backwards until her back rested against the carpet, the small trickle of blood seeping into the ground. This would surely leave a stain.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No -it did not go as planned” Ilsa pushed the words out in between ragged breaths because Alanna was now slowly tracing lines on her inner thighs, dangerously nearing the apex.

“Good girl.” She shuddered.

She’d definitely lost this dance to the widow, but her cares slowly melted away as cold fingers slipped into her underwear, making her gasp. And then moan when they dipped in between her dripping folds. This would surely leave a stain as well.

“My god darling who is the desperate one now, huh?” Her nose scrunched as she, to Ilsa’s disappointment, pulled away to show her her own wetness on her slender fingers. “Is all this for me?” Ilsa just hummed in approval, desperate to regain the sensation of Alanna’s touch on her, no matter the cost.

“Please Alanna-“ She heard her sigh as she said her name, satisfied with the impact she had on the woman. But the blonde quickly regained herself and focused on teasing the wet fabric of Ilsa’s panties. Her eyes were frequently flicking over to the blood smeared skin.

“You want me to fuck you?” Ilsa nodded. Alanna shook her head. “Speak up, won’t you darling?”

“Yes!” She pushed out. “Yes, I want you to fuck me, Alanna Mitsopolis. Please!”

That did it for Alanna and Ilsa knew it. She knew it as she started pumping her fingers into her, knew it as she praised her with words and kisses, knew it as she left her with dozens of deep purple hickeys in place of her freckles and when she started circling her clitoris with her thumb and applied pressure that was just right. Then she slowly kissed her way down her collarbone, to her shoulder and… Oh!

"Fan!" Ilsa never cursed in Swedish. "Döda mig nu! Alanna!" Well at least not usually.

The widow's wet tongue was now tracing the cut on her upper arm, licking it clean with little pleased moans. It stung horribly but in a way that was so utterly intoxicating. Just like her perfectly paced hand movements on her clit that matched the rhythm of her circling tongue. Ilsa could feel she was so close- when Alanna started… slowing down?

She pressed out a confused moan and reached for the widow’s hand, wanting her to keep up her pace but Alanna just pinned her wrist to the ground.

“Tell me Ilsa, you didn’t answer me before…” Ilsa whined. Alanna chuckled and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand -so hot. “What did you put that dress on for again?”

As the brunette shook her head in confusion the widow started pulling away which only made her groans of frustration grow louder. What did she want from her? And how could she possibly have picked a worse moment than this, to discuss that kind of topic? Unless it was actually perfect for Alanna.

“Do not tell me you just felt the urge to go out darling.” Oh she was so cruel.

“But-“ Alanna interrupted her with a disapproving huff.

“No buts. Just tell me and this torture will be over in just a heartbeat.” Her voice was a bittersweet caress. Ilsa roamed her mind for a way out of this. She couldn’t think of one. Though thinking was not necessarily something easy with the white widow's fingers hovering above her folds just so close she could feel her touch on her soft curls whenever she took a breath.

“I- I needed to get out.”

“To do what” The grip of the woman’s hand on her wrist tightened just slightly. She was sure she could feel her pulse hammering underneath her thumb. She was also sure she was enjoying it at least a little bit. Likely a lot.

“I was bored and …”

“And?”

“Well lonely, so…” she blushed slightly her voice breaking.

“So what!? Answer me Ilsa!”

“Wha- what do you mean what?” She moaned as the widow thrust one finger roughly inside her and pulled it back out sharply. All of her lacked Alanna’s touch now. Yearned for it.

“Alanna -please!”

“Why did you go out tonight? I won’t repeat myself again.”

Ilsa’s chest was heaving, sweat running down the curve of her breasts, dampening the fabric of her dress. She only wore a thin lacy bra, so her hard nipples were poking through the fabrics, easily. She knew why she had put that on. They both knew.

“I- I needed to see you!” Alanna’s hand was nearing her again and she whimpered in need of her touch.

“And?”

“And I put that dress on for you Alanna! I couldn’t stop thinking about you since you arrived here! Please just fuck me, Alanna!” She swallowed the last words, tripping over them in a hurry.

Alanna moaned and hummed approvingly, letting her thumb softly stroke Ilsa’s wrist.

“I’ve been thinking about you too. Night and day I’ve thought about only you Ilsa Faust.” She smiled and finally closed the distance between her fingers and Ilsa’s center again, curling them against the woman’s inner walls, praising her with words, caressing her nipples that were revealed by the sheer fabric as the straps of her dress fell over her shoulders when she arched her back to lean into the touch even more. She couldn’t remember when she had begun to press her knee in between Alanna’s thighs but now the woman was clutching her garter tightly and holding onto it, while humping her leg until they were nothing, but a sweaty bundle of raw flesh held together by shared moans as they rode out their orgasms in unison. If their interactions truly were a dance this must be the peak of the music in all its brilliance.

Just as Ilsa had almost come down from her high she suddenly flinched again, but this time at the deafening sound of …a gun?

BANG!

BANG!

Alanna shot twice. Both went into the ceiling. Then she collapsed onto Ilsas chest.

"Wha-?" She shushed Ilsa by laying her finger on her lips gently.

Right before her orgasm she’d felt the need to do something insane. To tie it all together and let out the loud internal screams, her voice chords couldn’t produce, but this time through a different medium.

Everyone needed to hear. So she reached for the gun.

She knew very well that what she had done was crazy, but it had just felt so right. It still did when the shocked look on Ilsa’s face turned into a confused grin, then a smile and finally a captivating, beautiful laugh. Alanna cursed herself for what she had thought earlier.

She could never possibly share this with the rest of the world. If she ever found a way to fully capture what this sound made her feel, she would keep it entirely to herself.