call me kermy

they/them. 21+. aus. hurt/comfort fics request: open !! happy to message :)

[kermittedfelony]

masterlist :)

***i know the links are broken! slowly fixing them!

howdy pardner

my name is kermy, i write hurt/comfort gn!reader fics. alot of these are vent fics so may contain some graphic content. trigger warnings are always placed at the top of each fic so please please read them! protect yourselves <3

Happy to chat about requests, dont be shy to send a msg or an ask.

love, kermy <3

M A R V E L

ⴵ Natasha Romanoff ⴵ

⧗ Yelena Belova ⧗

ᗢ Wanda Maximoff ᗢ

W A R R I O R N U N

Avatrice

[wandanat01]

Home Is You

Part 2 - Sick

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Y/N Warnings: Illness, fever, exhaustion, self-neglect, medication mentions, hurt/comfort, caretaking. Word Count: 1155 Summary: A few days after their peaceful movie night, Y/N starts feeling unwell. At first she hides it, not wanting Wanda and Natasha to worry. But when her stubbornness catches up to her, the two women quickly realize something is wrong. What follows is a lot of soft caretaking, cuddles, protective girlfriends, and Y/N learning that she doesn’t always have to be the strong one.

The first sign should have been the headache. Y/N woke up with a dull ache behind her eyes. Nothing major. Nothing worth mentioning. Certainly nothing worth worrying Wanda and Natasha over. So she ignored it. Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to make that impossible. By breakfast the headache had grown worse. By lunch she was exhausted. By dinner she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Still, she said nothing. Because Y/N had always been terrible at admitting when she needed help.

“Are you listening?” Y/N blinked.

“Huh?”

Across the table, Wanda frowned.

“I asked if you wanted Chinese or pizza.”

“Oh.” Y/N rubbed her eyes. “Either.”

Natasha immediately looked up from her coffee. The response wasn’t unusual. But Y/N’s voice was. Normally she was energetic. Animated. Bright. Now she sounded tired. Very tired. Natasha exchanged a glance with Wanda. Wanda noticed too.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked.

“Fine.”

Too quick. Too automatic. Natasha narrowed her eyes. The Black Widow could spot a lie from a mile away. And that had definitely been a lie.

“You don’t look fine.”

Y/N forced a smile. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

The explanation seemed reasonable. Believable. But Natasha wasn’t convinced. Neither was Wanda. Still, they let it go. For now.

—⧗ᗢ—

The next morning was worse. Much worse. Y/N woke up shivering. Which made absolutely no sense because she was trapped between two human furnaces. Natasha’s arm rested around her waist. Wanda was practically sprawled across her chest. Usually it was the coziest place in the world. Today she felt miserable. Carefully, she slipped out of bed. Neither woman woke up. A rare achievement. Y/N quietly left the room. The second she reached the bathroom she leaned against the sink. Her reflection looked awful. Pale. Dark circles. Glassy eyes.

“Great.”

Definitely sick. She splashed water on her face. Took some painkillers. Then made a terrible decision. She went to training.

—⧗ᗢ—

An hour later, Natasha entered the gym. And immediately stopped. Y/N was hitting a punching bag. Hard. Far harder than necessary. Her movements were slower than usual. Sloppy. Unfocused. Natasha folded her arms.

“Why are you here?”

Y/N nearly jumped. “Training.”

“I can see that.” Natasha walked closer. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Y/N sighed. “I’m fine.”

Natasha reached forward and pressed the back of her hand against Y/N’s forehead. Her eyes widened immediately.

“You’re burning up."

Y/N groaned. “Nat.”

“No.”

“It’s just a fever.”

“No.”

“Natasha.”

“No.”

Y/N stared. Natasha stared back. A battle of wills. One Natasha won within seconds. Because Wanda suddenly appeared behind them.

“Oh my God.”

Y/N closed her eyes. There it was. The end. The second Wanda saw her face, everything was over. The witch immediately hurried forward.

“You’re sick.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

“A little.”

“A little?” Wanda placed a hand against her forehead. Red magic flickered instinctively. Her expression became horrified. “Natasha!”

“I know.”

“She’s boiling.”

“I know.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “You two are being dramatic.”

Both women looked at her. Offended.

“Excuse me?” Natasha asked.

“You have a fever.”

“You can barely stand.”

“You look exhausted.”

Y/N pointed accusingly. “See?”

Wanda blinked. “See what?”

“Being dramatic.” Y/N said wide eyed

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m dating an idiot.”

“I heard that.”

“Good.”

—⧗ᗢ—

Ten minutes later Y/N found herself wrapped in three blankets. On the couch. Forbidden from moving. Absolutely forbidden from training. Absolutely forbidden from working. Absolutely forbidden from doing anything except resting. It was torture.

“I could be helping.”

“No.” Replied Wanda

“I could answer emails.”

“No.” Wanda said again

“I could—”

“No.”

Y/N looked at Wanda.

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I didn’t need to.”

Natasha appeared carrying a mug.

“Tea.”

Y/N accepted it.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The response was soft. Immediate. Loving. Y/N’s heart squeezed. Even sick, she couldn’t stop appreciating them. Natasha sat beside her. Wanda immediately curled up against Y/N’s other side. Despite being sick, Y/N smiled.

“This is nice.”

“Good.”

“You have no choice.”

“Also good.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“You are impossible.”

Wanda grinned.

“She loves us."

“Unfortunately.”

Y/N laughed. Then immediately regretted it when her head pounded. Wanda’s expression softened.

“You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

Both women gave her a look. Y/N lasted exactly thirty seconds. Then her eyes drifted closed.

—⧗ᗢ—

When she woke up, she was warm. Comfortably warm. Not fever warm. Safe warm. She blinked slowly. Natasha sat in an armchair nearby reading. Wanda was asleep against her shoulder. Both women looked peaceful. Home. The thought appeared instantly.Home. Y/N smiled softly. Natasha noticed immediately.

“You’re awake.”

“Tiny spy.”

“I know.”

Wanda stirred. Then immediately sat up.

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay.”

The witch launched herself forward. Y/N barely had time to react before Wanda was hugging her. Carefully. Gently. Like she was something precious. Something worth protecting. Y/N wrapped her arms around her.

“I missed you.”

“You were asleep for three hours.”

“Exactly.”

Natasha snorted. Wanda ignored her. The witch pulled back slightly. Green eyes searched her face. Checking. Assessing. Making sure she was truly okay. When she seemed satisfied, she relaxed. A little. Only a little.

“You’re staying here tomorrow too.”

“Wanda—”

“No.”

Y/N looked toward Natasha. Seeking backup. A terrible mistake. Natasha didn’t even hesitate.

“She’s right.”

“Traitor.”

“We’re literally your girlfriends.”

“Exactly.”

“That isn’t what traitor means.”

“It is today.”

Natasha laughed. The sound was quiet. Rare. Beautiful. Y/N would happily stay sick forever if it meant hearing that laugh. Well. Maybe not forever. A day or two.

—⧗ᗢ—

That evening turned into the softest night Y/N could remember. No missions. No emergencies. No training. Just blankets. Movies. Soup. And two ridiculously protective girlfriends. At some point Wanda ended up lying across Y/N’s lap. Natasha sat beside her with one hand resting on Y/N’s leg. Neither seemed willing to let her out of their sight. Not that Y/N minded. Not really. She watched the movie for a while. Then watched them instead. Wanda’s sleepy smile. Natasha’s focused expression. The way they unconsciously reached for each other. For her. Always for her.

“What?” Natasha asked suddenly.

Y/N blinked.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

“Oh.”

A smile tugged at Y/N’s lips.

“I love you.”

Wanda immediately looked up. “I love you too.”

Natasha’s expression softened. “So do I.”

The room grew quiet. Comfortable. Warm. Y/N leaned back against the couch. Wrapped in blankets. Wrapped in love. And for the first time all day, she didn’t feel miserable. Because she wasn’t facing it alone. She never had to. Not with Wanda and Natasha. Not with her family. Not with home. As Wanda snuggled closer and Natasha reached for her hand, Y/N realized something. Being strong wasn’t doing everything by yourself. Sometimes being strong meant letting people take care of you. And judging by the smug look Natasha was wearing, she and Wanda intended to remind her of that for a very, very long time.

Feel free to repost i would really like to grow my account and make friends so feel free to come chat to me in my asks!!

[e-afterlife]

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞

Pairing : Firefighter Natasha Romanoff/Fem Reader

Chapter : 1/1

Words : 5k

Summary :

Trapped in a malfunctioning elevator and convinced you are about to fall to your death, panic is all you have left. That was until a rather pretty firefighter forced her way in.

Warning : brief injury, mention of panic attack (Nat makes it feel better)...

⧗ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The elevator had been making that, somewhat weird, noise all week.

You had first noticed it on Tuesday, an ugly metallic groan between floors, like something inside it was grinding itself to pieces. It echoed in your bones and made you clench your teeth together in a reaction you could not quite shake nor hide. By Wednesday, you noticed that the lights flickered faintly every time the lift passed the eighteenth floor. 

You had meant to report it.

You really had.

Now you were very aware that you had, in fact, not.

The elevator jolted violently somewhere between what you thought were the twenty-first and twenty-second floors, and then it stopped completely.

Not a gentle stop, no, that would have been too nice. A brutal fucking lurch, mind you.

The kind that happened so abruptly it completely stole the air from your lungs and made your body lose its axis. You gasped, grabbing blindly for the handrail in the confined space, a cry of pain escaping your lips as your ankle twisted beneath you at the same moment the lights went out... 

Pain shot up your leg.

"Shit-"

Stupid, stupid heels, stupid job. And most of all, fucking stupid elevator.

For half-second, there was only silence in the box you were trapped in. Heavy silence and the blood rushing in your ears before it raced south to warm up your ankle.

Then the cables screamed. The entire lift dipped a terrifying inch, maybe more - metal screeching against metal, and your body slammed into the mirrored wall behind you, the impact knocking a strangled cry from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whispered, widening eyes darting around in the dark. "Oh my God, oh my God-"

The emergency lights flickered on, bathing the small space in a sickly red glow.

Your hands were already shaking. You sucked in a deep breath before lunging for the control panel, hitting the red button in clouded panic. Door open. A soft, broken whimper slipped out as heat bloomed around your ankle, sharp and throbbing. 

You exhaled hard, eyes narrowing as you hit the alarm button. Alarm, alarm, alarm again. You pressed it so hard your fingertip hurt.

Nothing.

The alarm gave a weak, frankly pathetic buzz that died almost instantly.

"Hello?" Your voice cracked as you leaned toward the speaker anyway. "Hello?! Can anybody hear me? I-I’m stuck, I-"

The elevator answered with another grinding groan before it slowly - so slowly it felt like moving in slow-motion - shifted again. Lower, just a tiny, insignificant fraction, but it was enough. Enough for your brain to supply the images: snapping cables, freefall, the box crumpling like a soda can when it hit the bottom. 

With you inside it. 

All because you refused to come to work early to climb up twenty-five flights of stairs.

Your knees gave out before you even realized it was happening, you slid down the mirrored wall, your back dragging against the cold surface until you hit the floor. You brought your injured ankle closer, only now realizing just how much it was burning. You were probably not going to be able to walk out of there - if the doors accepted to open again one day, that was.

Oh, God.

You did not like small spaces.

You did not like not being in control.

You definitely did not like the sound of metal giving up.

"It’s fine," you muttered to yourself, breath coming too fast. "It’s fine. Elevators don’t just-"

The car dropped another inch.

You screamed, hoping if you were loud enough whatever Gods there were out there would come and get you out of here themselves.

⧗

Natasha Romanoff had been halfway through her second coffee at their usual café when the call came in.

Elevator malfunction in a building downtown with presumably one occupant trapped. Structural concerns.

She was already on her feet before the dispatcher finished.

"Alright, let’s move," Clint muttered, tossing his cup in the trash and dragging a hand through his hair. "Too early for this kind of bullshit."

The engine roared to life, their sirens cutting through the late afternoon traffic as they cut across the streets.

Natasha stood in the back of the truck, one hand braced against the rail, the other clenched tight at her side. Her jaw was set hard enough to ache. Elevator calls were unpredictable, they could go either way - minor inconvenience or catastrophic failure. She sure hoped it was not the latest. However, the words structural concerns made something cold coil in her stomach.

They pulled up in under seven minutes, fortunately they were not far from the building when they received the call.

Natasha was out of the truck before it had fully stopped.

A small crowd had gathered outside the building, tension thick in the air. She scanned them once, before zeroing in on the man pacing near the entrance.

The building manager looked pale, sweating through his shirt. 

"It’s stuck between floors," he rushed out as she approached. "We think twenty-one and twenty-two. We tried resetting the system, but it’s not responding. And we h-heard-" His voice wavered. "Someone said they heard it drop."

Natasha’s expression did not change, but something in her eyes went sharper - dangerously so - as she recognized the situation for what it was.

"How many people are inside?"

"One. I-I think."

"You think?" Natasha scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Name?"

"I-I don’t know?"

She shook her head, of course he did not, why would he know anything useful? Natasha was already turning away from him, biting down the inside of her cheek to keep herself from screaming at him. 

"Team’s arriving in ten." Clint said, jogging up to reach her side. 

Natasha let out a short breath, pinching the bridge of her nose for half a second as she forced herself to think rationally.

Ten minutes.

Yeah, no.

Her gaze snapped back to the building, already calculating distances, access points, worst-case scenarios.

"That’s too fucking long. I’m not waiting." 

Clint exhaled, looking at her as if he already knew the end of the story.

"Nat-"

"I’m going." She cut him off, already heading inside.

⧗

Inside the elevator, you were crying now. 

Quiet and panicked tears that refused to stop, slipping endlessly down your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to steady your breathing. Your chest hitched in uneven rhythms, every inhale too sharp, every exhale too shallow.

As if it was not bad luck enough already, you had discovered your so-called waterproof mascara was not as waterproof as the bold words on the package made it sound to be. You had dark streaks smudged beneath your eyes, sticky and uneven, making your reflection in the mirrored wall look... ridiculous, or pathetic. Or both.

You looked like an actress trying too hard to win an award for a drama.

And then there was your last straw; your damn phone. Because you had also discovered that you had no service inside this creepy box. Because, of course there was not. You had tried 911 anyway - once, twice or maybe five times - but each attempt failed before it even began, before you could hope. No signal, no lifeline, nothing.

The red emergency light was still on, though. Making everything inside feel smaller, the walls too close, the ceiling too low. And the air hotter, thin, like every ragged breath you took was not quite enough to fill your aching lungs. And just for that, you were grateful for being the only one here. You could not imagine panicking like this in front of someone else. Or even being stuck for God knew how long in here with someone else.

Especially that creepy Dylan guy who could not take a hint to save his life. So, yeah... you supposed the situation could be worse. 

Another groan tore through the walls as soon as you finished your thought. 

God, you really should learn to hold your tongue. 

It was the third in under five minutes, you had been counting.

Your hands flew up to your ears, palms pressing hard as you squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could block it out, as if ignoring it might somehow make it all stop.

"I don’t want to die," you whispered to no one, to yourself, to whatever Gods out there that must have heard you by now but seemingly decided to do nothing about your case. "Please, please, I don’t want to die."

Your voice sounded so small to your own ears, like it did not even matter. And then, there was a sudden metallic clang echoing from above. As if answering you, finally.

Your hands slipped from your ears, hovering uselessly in the air as your brows pulled together, confusion cutting through the panic.

Another clang, louder this time.

And then... voices? Were you hearing voices? If that was true, they were definitely muffled, distant and barely distinguishable. Though you were not quite sure you had not started imagining things. That was what the brain was supposed to do, right? Hallucinate something comforting when reality became too much?

Your head snapped up at another sound, your heart beating with newfound hope.

"Hello!?" You shouted, scrambling to your feet as best as you could, a sharp whimper escaping when your ankle screamed in protest. You clung to the handrail, leaning heavily against the mirrored wall, slowly sinking back into a sitting position. "I-I’m in here! Please! Anyone?"

Something heavy thudded against the top of the elevator.

Then a voice. You were sure of it this time. It was clear and calm and authoritative.

"Fire department! We hear you."

The sob that tore out of you was immediate and uncontrollable. Your hand flew to your mouth, pressing hard as if you could somehow contain the sound, but it shook through your whole body anyway.

"We’re going to get you out," the voice continued. A beacon in the chaos. A lighthouse in the fog. "I need you to step back from the doors."

"I-I am!" Your voice cracked badly, but you stumbled back as much as your ankle allowed, deciding to ignore the new noise coming from the elevator.

Tools met metal then. A harsh, grating sound filled the air as something outside strained against the doors. The entire elevator creaked in protest, a deep and very unsettling groan vibrating through the walls.

You watched, unable to look away, as the doors jerked before you felt the elevator shift under your feet.

The elevator fucking moved beneath your feet.

"No, no, no-" You choked, panic surging back as you slid down the wall again, your body refusing to stay upright.

"Hey!"

The voice was closer now. Right outside. Your head snapped up from where you thought the person was, lips pressed into a tight line.

"Stay with me. What’s your name?"

For a second, you forgot how to speak.

You swallowed hard, whispering it back in a shaky tone.

"I’m Natasha. I need you to look at me when I get this open. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded frantically before realizing she could not see you as she called out your name to make sure you were listening.

"Yes-yes, I can do that." You finally breathed.

A sharp grunt echoed from the other side.

Then suddenly a gloved hand appeared, forcing its way between the doors.

You held your breath as the gap widened, one inch first.

Then two. The metal shrieked in protest like it was alive, like it was fighting her every step of the way.

But then, you saw her.

First, her arm - muscles straining, veins taut beneath sweat-dusted skin, shiny bicep flexing hard as she forced the doors apart manually.

Then her shoulder, the short black sleeve of her shirt covering most of it, stretching tight.

Then her face.

The red emergency light behind you clashed with the brighter hallway lights spilling in from outside, casting her in something almost unreal. The glow caught on the edges of her helmet, creating a halo effect that made her look-

Not real. Not human, at least. 

You had been asking for a God all this time when you should have prayed for an angel.

A streak of red hair clung to her cheek, damp with sweat, and her green eyes locked onto yours with sharp, unwavering focus.

"Hey, you’re okay." She said, as if it were fact, her lips offering you a small yet gentle smile.

The doors opened wider, revealing the misalignment - the elevator sitting a good foot below the hallway floor.

Natasha’s gaze assessed the inside in seconds.

"Alright. It’s stable," she called over her shoulder to someone you could not see  before nodding at whatever answer she received. Then her gaze softened as it returned to you. "Can you walk?"

You tried, but the second you put weight on your ankle, pain exploded up your leg, sharp enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

You gasped, shaking your head, your hands gripping the bar tighter.

"I-I don’t think so. My ankle, I-"

You expected frustration, maybe impatience. Anything of that range. But Natasha just nodded once, quick and decisive as she shifted closer.

"It’s okay. That’s alright," her voice lowered slightly before she braced one boot against the frame and forced the doors wider with a low, controlled exhale. "We’ll adjust."

Behind her, you could hear someone securing something metal against the frame above. More clanging. More tools. The elevator trembled faintly and you flinched.

Her eyes snapped back to yours instantly.

"Hey," she said, firmer this time. "Stay with me. It’s secured from the top. It’s not going anywhere, alright?"

You searched her face for a lie or at least doubt but did not find any. Just certainty.

Natasha adjusted her footing, one boot planted firmly on the hallway floor, the other testing the edge of the elevator.

"I’m coming in," she warned, her tone turning serious again. "It might shake a little when I transfer my weight. That’s normal, you do not need to panic."

Normal...

You almost wanted to laugh at how fragile that word sounded. But you nodded anyway, your throat tight, your eyes locked on her like she was the only stable thing left in the world.

Your gaze caught on a strange, almost irrelevant detail - the glint of light along her left ear. Multiple piercings, small pieces of metal catching the hallway light. Your brain latched onto that stupid detail even through the panic you could feel rising.

Behind her, you caught a glimpse of movement - her colleague stepping in, rope in hand. He clipped it to her harness with practiced ease, giving her shoulder a firm, reassuring tap.

She did not look back.

The elevator dipped half an inch the moment she slid through the gap with controlled precision. You gasped, hands flying to the wall.

Natasha did not even flinch, she simply moved like she trusted it - like she understood the language of metal and tension and load-bearing structures better than fear ever could. She crouched in front of you immediately, one of her gloved hands finding your arm without hesitation.

Up close, she was even more unfairly breathtaking. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her temple. A faint smudge of grease near her jaw. Her green eyes were sharp, assessing but warm. 

Your entire world narrowed to green.

"Hi." She said quietly, her lips twitching into the faintest smirk that made you weak in the knees.

Your brain short-circuited.

Great.

Of all the moments.

Of all the possible moments.

You had to be a gay disaster right now. Of course. And get caught while checking her out.

You let out a shaky, hysterical half-laugh - still reeling from seeing her entering your space so easily. 

"Hi."

Before you could utter another word, another distant metallic groan echoed through the shaft, low and threatening. 

Natasha’s jaw tightened slightly.

"Alright. We’re going to lift you out," she said, focus snapping back into place. "As you can see the car is about a foot low, so I’ll boost you up to Clint - that guy over there. He’ll grab you, and I’ll be right behind. Got any questions?"

You shook your head quickly, instinctively shifting closer to her as the elevator creaked again, your breath catching.

"We’re not falling," Natasha murmured, her hoarse voice wrapping around your ears. "I’ve got you. All I need is for you to wrap your arms around my shoulders. Can you do that?"

The certainty in her tone did something to your spiraling mind.

You scooted closer and circled your arms around her neck. You tried not to wince too much as she carefully slipped one very muscular arm carefully behind your back and the other under your knees before lifting you effortlessly. Like you weighed nothing at all. 

The elevator trembled faintly as she stood, but she adjusted without hesitation, her stance shifting in tiny, precise movements - like balance was something she negotiated with gravity every single day.

You looked at her, suddenly hyper-aware of the proximity. The strength coiled in her arms. The heat of her body through her clothes. The steadiness of her breathing compared to your own chaotic one.

"Oh God-" You choked as the car trembled all around you, your fingertips digging into the fabric of her shirt.

"Shh, it’s okay. I would not be in here with you if it wasn’t secure," she said steadily, her hot breath ghosting your cheek as she turned, bracing her back against one wall and her boot against the other to give herself leverage. "I don’t gamble with old elevators."

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking nervously around as the walls creaked.

"That probably doesn’t sound as... comforting as you want it to be..."

A soft huff of amusement brushed your ear, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine, the hair at the back of your neck raising in consequence.

"Okay, then I don’t gamble with pretty girls I’m rescuing," she corrected, chuckling faintly at the openly shocked look you gave her. "Alright," she added, like she had not just short-circuited your brain entirely, again. "It might feel like it’s moving like crazy, okay?"

"Okay..." You grumbled weakly, not liking her last words very much.

"Clint!" She called upward, her voice snapping back into command. "I’ve got her, we’re moving."

A man’s face appeared at the gap, giving you both a quick thumbs-up.

"Copy that."

"On three..." She murmured to you, but mostly to herself. 

And then she was moving. Natasha bent slightly, grounding her stance - then pushed upward with controlled, explosive strength.

You cried out - not from pain, but from the sudden motion of everything. And then hands grabbed you under the arms.

"You’re good." The man, Clint, reassured you as he hauled you onto the hallway floor.

The second you were clear of the elevator, your body sagged in relief. The carpet felt like heaven beneath your palms.

You twisted immediately, panic snapping back just as fast.

"Natas-"

The elevator shifted again just as she grabbed the frame to pull herself up.

There was a loud, ugly snap from somewhere above. You froze, lips parting. Everything inside you went cold.

Natasha did not panic, she surged upward in one fluid movement, boots scraping harshly against the metal as she hauled herself through the gap.

The elevator dropped five inches the moment her weight cleared it.

A collective gasp rippled from both you and Clint. You stared at the open shaft, your heart pounding violently in your chest.

A second later, Natasha rolled onto her back beside you, her breathing heavier now, not uncontrolled, but very real as she took off her helmet. For the first time, you could actually see the adrenaline in her eyes.

Clint let out a low whistle, patting her shoulder as he helped her out of the harness. 

Natasha pushed herself up, completely ignoring him, her eyes already on you.

"You okay?"

You nodded numbly before a sudden, illogical anger spread through your veins.

"You said it wouldn’t do that!" You exclaimed, smacking her arm.

Her eyebrow lifted, surprise flickering briefly across her face - ignoring Clint’s snort behind her as he walked away.

"Actually," Natasha replied, far too calm for your liking. "I said it would not collapse with you in it, not that it would not move at all..." She said, lips threatening to pull into a smirk that she forced herself to contain - like she knew exactly how close she was to getting hit again.

"Oh my God." You groaned into your hands, dragging your hands over your face, fingers pressing hard into your hairline.

But the second you felt your throat closing in again, something in you shattered completely. And then, before you realized it, you were shaking uncontrollably. The adrenaline you had been running on for what felt like hours disappeared from your system all at once, leaving nothing behind to hold you together.

Your hands started shaking, then your arms, then everything.

Natasha was immediately on her knees in front of you, tugging off her gloves as she reached for your forearms.

"Hey-hey. Stay with me."

You could not stop crying.

You tried to speak, you really did, but nothing came out except broken gasps that refused to form words.

Her warm hands closed around your wrists, warm and firm, her thumbs pressing gently but insistently against your pulse points.

"Breathe with me," she instructed gently. "In."

You tried. Failed a few times, but she did not lose patience. She shifted closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of her, close enough that her presence alone started to anchor you, almost close enough to press her forehead lightly to yours.

"Come on, I know you can do it. In," she repeated before taking a slow, deliberate breath - deep enough that you could see it, feel it. "And out."

Your body followed the rhythm instinctively before your mind could catch up.

In.

Out.

In-

Out...

The world slowly stopped spinning quite so violently. The noise faded. The impossible tightness in your chest loosened just enough for air to finally, generously reach your lungs.

And suddenly you were made very aware that you were half in her lap. Very aware that your hands were fisted in the front of her shirt.

"I-I really thought I was going to die..." You whispered, voice hoarse and fragile.

Her thumbs brushed under your eyes, wiping away tears and smeared mascara.

"Well, clearly you didn’t." She said quietly.

Your laugh came out wet and shaky. 

"That’s... that’s because you’re apparently made of steel."

One corner of her mouth lifted.

"Sometimes I wish."

You huffed something that might have been a watery chuckle.

Your face crumpled again as the last of the adrenaline drained out of you, leaving you raw and exposed. Without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed your face into her shoulder, your arms wrapping around her.

You felt Natasha freeze for half a second before her arms came around you as well. Firm and protective.

"It’s alright. I’ve got you." She repeated softly.

You were still trembling, a faint tremor running through your body. If you had not been so close perhaps she would not have even noticed it. But she was close and she did notice.

"It’s over now. You’re safe." She murmured, shifting a little closer on her knees. Slowly, hesitantly, one of her hands came up to rest against the back of your head.

You pulled back once your brain caught up with the realization of just how close you suddenly were, your entire face heating up with embarrassment. 

"Sorry-I just, you saved-"

"No, no," she said quietly, shaking her head. "It’s okay. Really. I get it."

There was an awkward pause before you realized her hand was still on you. She seemed to realize it too as she withdrew, clearing her throat slightly.

"I’m... I should probably check your ankle?"

You nodded, wiping at your face in a completely useless attempt to fix or even hide the damage.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I’m not usually this... dramatic?"

A corner of her mouth twitched as she shot you a knowing look. 

"You weren’t. But even if you were, you were trapped in a failing elevator. So... I think you’re allowed," she replied, shifting to your extended leg. "I always preferred stairs, you know."

Her hands were surprisingly gentle as she examined your ankle. You hissed when she pressed along the outer bone.

"Yeah," she murmured. "That’s tender."

Her thumb brushed lightly over the area before she leaned back.

"Looks like a sprain. Maybe a mild one. You’re lucky." 

Lucky.

You almost laughed in disbelief again.

Natasha glanced toward the stairwell where two more firefighters were coordinating with the building manager.

"Medics are downstairs," Clint called over. "Stairwells all clear."

Natasha looked back at you, assessing as she pursed her lips.

"Alright," she said, decisive again. "You’re not putting weight on that."

You blinked. 

"I can hop-"

"Nope."

Before you could argue further, she slid one arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees again, lifting you as if you weighed nothing at all just like she previously did.

Another startled sound left you, hands instinctively flying to her shoulders. 

"Natasha-"

"Relax..." She said smoothly, adjusting you against her chest. 

"You don’t have to carry me all the way," you muttered, acutely aware of how solid she felt under your hands. And how steady she was. Which was a very welcomed thing after the situation you experienced. "I can... hobble... or something."

She snorted softly as she began the descent.

"Well, I think you already had your elevator moment. Let’s not add 'faceplanting down the stairs' to today’s crazy résumé."

Your lips parted in offended disbelief. 

"Yeah," she said dryly. "You’ve done enough dramatic for one afternoon."

You actually gasped this time. 

"Excuse me-"

"The screaming?"

"I was falling!"

"You dropped an inch."

"An inch is a lot when you think you’re about to die!"

That earned you a low, amused hum, deep enough that you felt it vibrate through her chest where you were pressed against her.

God. This was unfair.

She took the steps steadily, controlled, one at a time. Her grip never faltered, not even slightly - which was also very much unfair. You looked up at her face, catching her eyes flickering over yours before lingering. There was a beat where you hesitated, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the seemingly amused look on her face, your cheeks warming up under the attention.

"...What?" You asked warily, narrowing your eyes slightly.

There was a pause, followed by a flicker of mischief in her green eyes.

"Nothing."

"Natasha."

She exhaled slowly through her nose, like she was actively trying not to laugh.

"You look like a raccoon."

You stared at her, blinking in confusion.

"I-what...?"

She nodded solemnly, tipping her chin toward your face. 

"Mascara situation. It’s... everywhere, very feral, very committed."

You stared at her, scandalized.

"I almost died and you’re bullying me?"

"I’m not bullying you," she replied gravely, adjusting you slightly higher in her arms. "I’m appreciating the aesthetic. You fully committed to the smoky eye look."

A choked sound escaped you, half laugh, half disbelief, as you tried to glare at her. Your lips betrayed you first, twitching at the corners despite your best effort.

She caught it instantly.

"There it is..." She murmured.

"I hate you." You muttered, though your voice wobbled with a laugh.

"Kinda doubt that."

You could not help but smile at her, shaking your head before awkwardly wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks.

"Better," she said quietly. "That’s better."

You rolled your eyes, though there was no heat behind the action. 

"You’re unbelievable."

"Meh, I’ve been called worse."

The stairwell echoed with distant voices and the steady rhythm of boots on concrete, but in the space between you, everything felt... quieter. You bit down your lip, really wishing you were not imagining things.

Now that the panic had ebbed, you found yourself studying her properly.

Freckles scattered beneath a sheen of sweat. A faint cut near her brow. Green eyes that had locked onto yours like you mattered the second those devilish doors opened.

"Am I heavy?" You asked suddenly.

 Natasha scoffed, giving your face a clear once over.

"I lift people twice your size in full gear."

"Oh," you said, pretending to consider her words. "So I’m light like... what? A backpack?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if genuinely thinking it through.

"Mhm... More like an angry kitten."

You gasped, smacking her shoulder. 

"Raccoon and kitten? Pick a species, Natasha."

"Raccoon aesthetic," she corrected smoothly. "Kitten attitude."

You were fully smiling now.

It felt strange - how easily she could pull you out of that spiral without even really knowing you. Like she had simply decided fear did not get to win today.

She reached the final flight, the soft afternoon light filtering up faintly from the lobby below. Sirens flashing through the glass doors.

You hesitate, talking yourself out of saying what you wanted to, but when will you ever get the chance to if not now?

"Alright, I have to ask... Do I at least look like a cute raccoon?" You asked quietly after a full minute of convincing yourself to finally get the words out.

Natasha did not hesitate, her lips offering you a charming smile.

"Oh, the cutest I’ve ever rescued, for sure."

Your stomach flipped in a way that did not resemble anything you experienced in the elevators.

The lobby doors burst open as you finally stepped out into the open air. The cool breeze hit your face and you inhaled sharply - you had not realized how badly you needed that until your lungs filled with it. It was perhaps the first full breath that did not feel like borrowed oxygen.

Paramedics hurried forward with a stretcher, voices overlapping as they approached. But Natasha did not set you down immediately.

"Possible ankle sprain. No loss of consciousness. Minor shock." She reported, her tone shifting seamlessly back to professional as her eyes flicked to one of the medics who nodded at her.

"We’ll take it from here."

You tightened your grip on Natasha for half a second longer than necessary. She looked down at you again, something unreadable flickering in her expression now that the urgency was over. She crouched, lowering you carefully onto the stretcher, hands lingering at your waist just long enough to make your pulse jump.

The sudden loss of contact felt... noticeable.

She stepped back as the medics started examining your ankle, asking questions.

You answered automatically but your attention never really left her, your eyes neither.

Natasha ran a hand through her slightly disheveled red hair, pushing it back from her face as the wind picked up. The adrenaline was still humming under her skin, you could see it in the way her jaw was set too tight, her fingers almost buzzing with restless energy. But she was already shifting back into that composed, controlled version of herself. She spoke briefly with Clint, answering a question from someone else. And suddenly, the thought of her just... walking away felt unbearable. And unfair.

"Natasha?"

She turned immediately at your voice, brows lifting.

You swallowed, heart hammering for an entirely different reason now.

"Yeah?"

Your throat felt tight again, but not from fear.

"Thank you. Truly," the words were simple, too small compared to what she had done, but you meant them with everything in you. "Thank you for saving my life."

Her teasing edge from earlier left her completely.

For a moment, she did not look like the confident firefighter who had climbed into a failing elevator without hesitation. She just looked like a woman who had been very, very scared of being too late.

"You’re welcome, just... doing my job." She said quietly, smiling at you as she reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your heart did that stupid thing again.

One of the medics cleared her throat nearby, smiling sheepishly as she interrupted the... moment. 

"We’re going to transport her for X-rays."

Natasha nodded absently, not pulling her hand away until she absolutely had to, her eyes staying on yours.

"You’ll be okay?" She asked.

You hesitated, biting down your lips. Then, before you could overthink it-

"...Will you visit the hospital raccoon?"

Her mouth curved slowly, something warm and amused - and dare you say even relief - settling into her expression.

"I’ll make sure to bring waterproof mascara recommendations."

You scoffed, swatting her hand away playfully. She smiled at you, watching as the stretcher you were on reached the ambulance doors.

"You’re safe now." She whispered, winking at you.

And the way she had said it, certain like a promise made you unable to not smile back. You believed her completely.

Hope you enjoyed this silly fic!🤭 Actually working on a longer fic (series) right now but I had this idea for a while so here it is!! See you - hopefully - soon :))

⧗ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[literallysteverogers]

Wellll helloooooo there, long time no see…

How does the one audio go. like. “55 BURGER 55 FRIES 55—“ yeah something like that ANYWAY envision me pulling up to your ask box like one would a fast food drive thru. Can I get a short Natasha special w a perfectionist reader who refuses to stop working until physically like dragged away…?

come to bed.

.ᐟ pairing: natasha romanoff/reader.

.ᐟ word count: 383

.ᐟ summary: natasha can’t get you to hit pause on this stupid project. she’ll make you, sooner or later.

.ᐟ content: pure fluff, no smut, just natasha being a caring and loving partner. gn!reader, no descriptions of reader. not beta-ed

.ᐟ notes: this ask awoke something in me, i got ts out SO quick. love you darling thank you for sending this in<3 hope you enjoy! also sorry for the break in posting i got into a really bad car accident and just got surgery yesterday so i’ve been a bit busy 😭 ao3 curse really got me

“I thought you said you’d come to bed in a sec.”

Oh, Natasha. Your beautiful, perfect Natasha. She just doesn’t get it, does she?

“I will. Just let me finish up this page.”

“Just a few minutes. One sec. I’ll be done soon. When does it end, baby?” You can hear the small upturn in her lip as she teases you. She’s so beautiful when she calls you out like that. But then again, she’s beautiful all the time.

She comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around you. She’s wearing one of your old t-shirts, you can tell by the hole in the sleeve and the smell of her perfume mixing with that scent you always wear.

“Come to bed.” She mumbles to you, her voice soft and groggy.

Words can’t express how much you would love to simply abandon this project and go to bed. To curl up in her arms, bury your face in her hair, and finally let your body rest. However, rest hasn’t been in your vocabulary for a long time.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair and putting your hands on her arms. Her skin is still soft from the lotion she puts on before bed.

“Nat… The project…” You close your eyes, breathing in her presence for this fleeting moment.

She huffs, grabbing your arms and dragging your chair back.

“No. You’re coming to bed.”

You whine, trying to pull your arms away from her, but she wins. She always wins.

She could ask you to pull the moon out of the sky for her, and you’d oblige easily.

“You are working too hard, too much. Your girlfriend wants you in bed with her.”

Who are you to turn her down?

You change out of your clothes and into your pajamas—the ones she bought you a few months ago, just because. “You’d look cute in them,” she’d said.

Curling up in bed, you bury your face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. She’s perfect. She’s so, so, perfect.

You’re about to drift off to sleep when you hear her whisper to you. “I love you, baby.”

You mumble something along the same lines, and she lets out a sleepy laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You’re never letting her go.

hope you enjoyed! don’t forget to like, reblog, or comment<3

[summer2224]

Scarlet Priority

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

by summer2224

18+ Smut

Smut 18+

Practice writing in past tense 

When the Avengers Compound is breached, Wanda Maximoff becomes something far more dangerous than a hero, she becomes protective.

Written March 26-31 2024

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

Morning came slowly not with sunlight, but with warmth.

The curtains hadn't opened yet, yet the room glowed faintly red, a low shimmer spilling across the ceiling. Wanda always did that when she woke first. A habit she'd never admitted to keeping, stretching the dawn a little longer so she could stay here.

You felt it before you opened your eyes.

Her bare weight hovering above you. Her auburn hair brushing your cheek. A careful kiss pressed just below your jaw like she was testing whether you'd disappear.

You smiled without looking. "You're staring again."

"I wasn't sure you would wake if I stopped," she murmured.

Your eyes opened then, finding her already watching, close enough her breath warmed your lips. The worry there was quiet but familiar, softened only when your hand slid to the back of her neck and pulled her down.

The next kiss wasn't cautious.

Her magic flickered along the headboard, a soft pulse, reacting faster than she could pretend she wasn't affected. She exhaled against you, forehead resting to yours as if grounding herself.

"Stay a little longer," she whispered.

"We have a briefing."

Her nose brushed yours. "Five minutes."

Her fingers traced slow lines along your arm, memorizing rather than touching, and every time you tried to speak she silenced you with another kiss, unhurried, unashamed, like the world outside the room didn't exist yet.

Eventually you laughed softly against her mouth. "You're going to make us late."

"I know," she said, not moving at all.

Her thigh settled between your legs, a gentle pressure that sent a shiver up your spine, a gesture both teasing and possessive. Her fingers tangled in your hair, tugging softly as her mouth found yours again. 

The kiss was slow, deliberate, an exploration as much as a reminder, every brush of her lips felt like a silent promise, one that she'd be happy to keep you here all day. 

Her other hand roamed, exploring the curves and dips of your body with a light touch that left a trail of heat in its wake. 

"You're distracting me," you managed between kisses, feeling her smile against your mouth.

"That's the point," she murmured, her mouth finding your neck now, leaving a trail of soft kisses down to your collarbone. Her hands were more daring, now slipping under the hem of your shirt, her touch a gentle tease as they brushed over your hip, your waist. 

"Besides," she added, her voice low, "I think you like being distracted. By me."

A quiet moan escaped you, her words sending a shiver down your spine. 

You couldn't argue with her, you did like being distracted by her, in more ways than one. 

You tilted your chin up, giving her better access, and gasped quietly as her hands slid further up your sides, trailing over your skin with an almost worshipful touch.

"I hate it when you're right," you breathed, arching subtly into her touch.

"No, you don't," she murmured, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear.

Her hands were exploring now, moving with a growing sense of purpose. Her teeth teasingly nipped at your earlobe.

"You love it."

Her fingers had reached your ribs, tracing the outline of each bone through your shirt with a slow, deliberate touch. It was maddening how well she knew you, how easily she could unravel you.

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile against your skin, her hands moving with purpose now as she slowly pushed your shirt up. 

She broke the kiss just long enough to pull the fabric over your head before capturing your mouth again, her body pressing flush against yours. 

"Five minutes," she reminded softly, her hands roaming freely now.

Her fingers traced the curve of your shoulder, the dip of your waist, the rise of your hip,  mapping out every inch of your body with slow, deliberate touches. 

She kissed the soft spot where your neck met your shoulder, her teeth grazing lightly, sending shivers down your spine. 

"Four minutes," she whispered against your skin, her hands sliding up to cup your face, tilting your head back for a deeper kiss. 

Her tongue traced the curve of your lip, dipping inside to taste you, her thumb brushing against your cheek gently.

The kiss grew more intense, her tongue exploring your mouth with a hungry yet gentle touch.

One hand remained cupped around your face while the other roamed down your body.

"Three minutes," she murmured breaking the kiss only to pull off your bra revealing bare breasts she'd memorized long ago.

Your sounds encouraged her, making her bolder. 

She pressed you back against the pillows, kissing down your neck, between your breasts, her hands cupping and caressing gently. 

Your nipples hardened under her touch and attention, one peak captured softly between her lips while her hand teased the other. 

"Two minutes," she whispered against your breast, switching sides to give equal attention, knowing how much you loved this. 

Her touch was familiar yet still felt like discovery each time, slow circles, gentle squeezes that made your back arch into her mouth.

She loved how responsive you were, how your body reacted to her touch like it was made for her hands. 

Your moans and pants filled the room, making her own breath grow heavier. 

She kissed down your stomach slowly, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. 

"One minute," she murmured, looking up at you from between your legs with a heated gaze, "and I'm not wasting it talking." She slowly pulled down your underwear, kissing along your inner thighs, making you widen your legs instinctively.

"Look at you," she whispered, her breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shudder. "So pretty, so wet for me." She spread you open with her thumbs, blowing a soft stream of air over your clit, watching you buck and whimper. "God, I love these sounds you make," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your center. "I love how you push against my mouth, how you grab the sheets when I lick you."

Her tongue finally made contact, a slow, deliberate stroke from your entrance to your clit that made you moan out, "Wanda—" Your hands flying to tangle in her hair. 

"Mmm—" She hummed against you, the vibration sending shocks through your body. 

"Please—" you begged, hips bucking up needlessly, chasing more. She gripped your thighs harder, holding you still. 

"Please what?" she teased, pressing three teasing kisses to your clit instead of what you really wanted. 

Another moan dripped from your lips, desperate and broken.

"Is this what you want?" she asked, her voice muffled against your wetness. She licked a slow circle around your clit, avoiding the exact spot you needed pressure. You whined, pushing your hips down, trying to force her mouth where you needed it. "Or this?" she asked, sucking your clit between her lips, releasing it with a soft pop. 

Your entire body tensed, a strangled cry escaping you. "Fuck, Wanda—" You panted, "Just—"

"Just eat me out properly?" she finished with a soft laugh against your pussy. "You're so beautiful when you're needy." She finally gave you what you wanted, a firm press of her tongue directly on your clit, exactly how you liked it. 

Your back bowed off the bed with a loud moan, fingers tightening painfully in her hair. 

"Yes, right there," you gasped, finally getting the friction you needed. She hummed approval, finally giving you steady pressure and suction just like you begged for.

Her tongue worked in circles, pressing flat and firm against your clit while her thumbs spread you even wider. 

The wet sound of her mouth on you filled the quiet room, mixing with your desperate moans and her occasional hums of pleasure. 

She was taking her time even now, making sure you felt every lick, every suck, every tease of her teeth grazing lightly. 

Your thighs trembled around her head, your whole body tensing as pleasure built higher and higher.

"Thirty seconds," she muttered against you, sucking hard for emphasis.

Your body was close to the edge, teetering on that delicate line between intense pleasure and release. 

She knew your body so well, knew exactly how hard to suck, how fast to lick, how much pressure to apply. Her hands gripped your ass possessively, pulling you even closer to her mouth. She could feel you trembling, hear your rapid breaths, knew you were almost there. 

"Twenty seconds," she whispered, her voice muffled but clear. She sucked harder, her tongue flicking rapidly against your clit. "Ten."

The countdown had you unraveling completely. Your thighs shook violently around her head, your moans growing louder and more desperate. 

"Five," she murmured, sucking your clit between her lips and giving it a gentle bite that sent you over the edge. 

Your orgasm crashed over you with a force that made you cry out her name, your body arching off the bed as pleasure pulsed through you in intense waves. She kept licking gently through it, catching every last drop, until you finally collapsed back onto the pillows. 

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your legs still trembling, still spread open for her. She crawled back up your body slowly, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, your breasts, your collarbone before finally claiming your lips again. 

You could taste yourself on her, a salty sweetness that made you pull her closer.

"Fuck," you breathed against her mouth, still panting. "We are so late."

She laughed softly, nuzzling into your neck. 

You kissed her, the kiss was deep and passionate, a silent thank you for the orgasm and a clear sign that you were ready for more. 

"You're going to make us even later," she warned but didn't resist as you pulled her hips up towards your face. She spread her legs over your head, lowering herself onto your mouth without hesitation. 

"Are you going to eat me like I ate you?" she whispers softly, grinding against your lips.

You looked up at her, your expression serious and focused. Without a word, you grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto your mouth, flattening your tongue against her and licking slowly from her entrance up to her clit. 

She gasped, her hands flying to the headboard for support. 

"Oh god," she breathed, starting to rock against your mouth gently. You spread her open with your fingers, diving in with your tongue, licking, sucking, fucking her with your mouth like she'd done to you.

"Fuck, just like that," she moaned above you, grinding down onto your face. 

Her arousal coated your chin and lips, making the room even warmer and wetter. 

You loved how eager and needy she was, how she didn't hold back her sounds or her movements. She was always so controlled except when you had her pussy on your mouth. 

"Your tongue feels so good," she panted, riding your face slowly but deeply.

She started moving faster, her hips rolling in circles, pushing her clit against your tongue and then backing up so you could lick into her again. 

Your hands gripped her ass tightly, spreading her cheeks apart and exposing her even more. 

You could feel her getting wetter and wetter, her pussy dripping onto your mouth and down your chin. 

"Shit," she gasped, reaching down to grab a handful of your hair. "I'm gonna come," she warned, her voice strained with pleasure.

You doubled down, sucking her clit hard and fucking her with two fingers at the same time. She cried out, her body tensing and then shaking as she came violently on your mouth. 

"Fuck! Fuck!" she moaned loudly, grinding against your lips and tongue until she was completely spent. 

She collapsed forward, catching herself on the headboard, her heat still twitching against your mouth. You licked her gently through the aftershocks, cleaning her up slowly until she pushed gently at your forehead.

"Stop, stop," she laughed weakly, lifting herself off your face. She looked down at you, her chest heaving, her core still glistening with arousal and your saliva. "Jesus, we really are never going to make that briefing, are we?" 

She wiped some of her arousal off your chin with her thumb before sucking it into her mouth.

The gesture was so dirty and intimate that you felt another rush of desire. "Look at you," she murmured, "all messy and satisfied with my cum on your face."

You smiled up at her, your face shiny with her wetness. 

"Can't help it," you replied with a small smirk, "you make it too easy to get distracted." 

She leaned down to kiss you messily, tasting herself on your lips before pulling away slightly. 

"Well, when you put it like that..." She crawled down your body possessively, spreading your legs open. "Guess I'll just have to keep distracting you then."

The briefing, the responsibilities, the outside world, all faded beneath tangled sheets and tangled limbs.

Dinner hour at the compound always carried a strange quiet.

Not silence, never that, but a softened hum. Ventilation breathing through steel walls. Distant elevator cables shifting. The low murmur of staff rotating shifts. It was the kind of calm that only existed in places built for war.

You weren't at the debrief this afternoon at all.

Technically, neither was Wanda.

When Natasha had raised a brow at the empty seats earlier that afternoon, Wanda hadn't even looked up from her tablet.

"Training overran," she had said smoothly. "I kept her."

No one questioned it.

She was a commander now. Her authority carried weight, and the faint red flicker behind her eyes discouraged curiosity.

Hours later, the compound halls reflected gold from recessed lighting, long shadows stretching across polished floors. Wanda's heels clicked sharply against the metal beneat, precise, unhurried, controlled. Each step echoed just enough to announce her presence before she entered a space.

An agent walked briskly beside her, struggling slightly to keep pace.

"The rookies in Group B are overcompensating," Wanda said without looking at him, flipping through a thin black folder. Pages shifted with a soft snap. "They rely on brute force instead of coordination. Pair them with Simmons and Ortiz next week. I want them corrected before live simulations."

"Yes, Commander."

She stopped mid stride, scanning a note, red nails tapping once against the margin.

"And remove Daniels from weapons rotation temporarily. His trigger discipline is reactive. That is how civilians get hurt."

The agent nodded quickly, accepting the folder when she handed it over. Their fingers barely brushed.

"I'll see it handled."

"I know you will."

He peeled off down the adjacent corridor, footsteps fading quickly.

And just like that, she was alone.

The compound felt bigger in the evenings when half the Avengers were out on rotation. A quick retrieval mission, in and out, back before midnight. The kind that rarely went wrong.

The kind that made the base feel hollow.

Wanda adjusted the cuffs of her blazer and resumed walking, heels striking rhythmically against the corridor floor. Click. Click. Click.

She was heading toward the kitchen.

Toward you.

She could already imagine the scene, you probably leaning against the counter, stealing something before dinner was fully ready. Teasing her for being late. Pretending you hadn't checked the time three times waiting.

A faint smile tugged at her mouth. The overhead lights flickered once.

She didn't stop.

The compound systems did that sometimes, power rerouting, Stark tech recalibrating. Nothing unusual.

Then it flickered again. This time longer. The hum in the walls shifted pitch.

Wanda slowed. Somewhere far below or above, something metallic slammed.

Hard.

Her body reacted before her thoughts did. Shoulders straightened. Chin lifted. That softness from earlier evaporated like mist.

The PA system crackled. For half a second, there was only static.

Then "Security breach detected. Level Three lockdown initiated. All personnel return to designated safe zones immediately. This is not a drill."

The voice echoed through every corridor. The lights died. Darkness swallowed the hallway whole.

A beat later, emergency strips flared on, bathing everything in low, saturated red.

Her heels stopped mid step. Completely still.

The air felt different. Charged. Tight.

Another metallic crash echoed, closer this time. Followed by the unmistakable pop of distant gunfire.

Her jaw tightened. Not fear.

Focus.

Her hands lifted slightly at her sides, fingers flexing as crimson energy bled into her palms, coiling like something alive and waiting.

Her first thought wasn't about the breach. It wasn't about the rookies. It wasn't about command.

It was about you.

You were on this floor. And suddenly the distance between here and the kitchen felt enormous.

The PA system continued: "All access points sealed. Elevators disabled. External communication suspended."

The heavy thud of blast doors engaging reverberated through the walls.

Wanda turned toward the kitchen corridor. And ran.

Her heels didn't falter, just faster now, sharper, echoing violently in the red lit hall as somewhere ahead, another gunshot rang out.

The hallway seemed longer now.

Emergency lights washed everything in a violent red, walls, floors, the sharp angles of reinforced doors. The shadows moved when she moved, stretching and recoiling like something alive.

Another gunshot cracked through the corridor ahead.

Too close. Wanda didn't slow.

Two masked men rounded the corner at the far end of the hall, tactical gear, rifles raised, visors reflecting the emergency glow. They didn't hesitate.

They opened fire. Bullets screamed down the corridor. Her hand snapped forward.

Time didn't stop, but it bent. The rounds halted inches from her, suspended midair in a trembling constellation of brass and metal. The force of them pushed against her power, vibrating, trying to complete their violent path.

Her expression didn't change. She clenched her fist.

The bullets reversed direction with a sickening, unnatural snap.

The men barely had time to register what was happening before the metal tore back into them with lethal precision. One dropped instantly. The other staggered, choking behind his mask.

Wanda's other hand lifted.

His body jerked upward violently, boots scraping uselessly against the floor as invisible force crushed inward.

The metal of his rifle warped. His visor spiderwebbed. Then he went limp. She released him without ceremony. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Her heels stepped over them. More movement to her left.

Three more figures burst through a side access door. One launched something cylindrical that clattered across the floor toward her.

An EMP grenade. Her eyes flared brighter. The device froze mid roll.

It trembled. Then crumpled inward like paper crushed in a fist, sparks spitting uselessly as her magic strangled the circuitry.

She didn't even look at it again. The nearest attacker lunged.

Big mistake.

She twisted her wrist and the wall behind him buckled inward, metal shrieking as it folded around his body and pinned him there with bone crushing force.

Another charged from the right. Her hand shot out. He was lifted and hurled down the corridor like debris in a hurricane, body smashing through reinforced glass with a brutal crash.

The last one tried to run.

Wanda didn't chase. She simply pulled. He flew backward violently, slamming into the floor at her feet. Her magic coiled around his throat, lifting him inches off the ground.

Her voice, when she spoke, was terrifyingly calm.

"How many?"

He struggled, clawing at nothing. Her fingers tightened.

"How many are inside?"

He didn't answer fast enough. Her hand closed. Silence returned to the corridor except for the distant alarms and the faint ringing hum of strained metal.

She dropped him. Her breathing was steady. Too steady. 

She could feel it now, not your power, not magic, just instinct. The sense that you were close.

Another corridor ahead. Kitchen level.

She moved again. Faster.

She turned the corner.... and didn't see the shadow detach from the wall behind her.

A masked man rose from concealment, blade glinting in the emergency light. Silent. Precise.

He lunged. There was no warning. No shout. No time.

Except, You.

You came out of nowhere. One second the space behind her was empty. The next, you collided with the attacker full force. The blade meant for Wanda shifted trajectory.

There was a sound. Wet. Wrong. The impact drove you forward. The knife sank deep into your side.

Your body jerked, breath leaving you in a sharp, stunned exhale.

For half a second, Wanda didn't understand what she was seeing.

You were in front of her.

Too close. Too still. The attacker tried to pull the blade free for another strike.

He never got the chance. The air around him imploded. Wanda's scream tore down the hallway as her power detonated outward. The man's body lifted violently, limbs bending at impossible angles before being flung into the far wall with bone shattering force. The impact cracked reinforced steel.

He didn't move again. But Wanda wasn't looking at him. You staggered. Your hands instinctively pressed to your side.

Red. Too much red. It spread quickly between your fingers, dripping onto the sterile compound floor.

You swayed.

And then your knees gave out. You dropped in front of her.

"No— no, no, no—"

She was on you before you hit fully, catching you as your weight collapsed forward. Her knees slammed hard against the ground, heels scraping uselessly as she pulled you into her lap.

Her hands were already glowing. But they were shaking.

Your breath hitched. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. Just small. Shallow.

"Wanda..." you managed, dazed.

Her hands pressed over the wound, crimson energy flooding outward, trying to seal, to mend, to undo.

But there was so much blood. The alarms continued to blare overhead.

"Lockdown in effect. All personnel remain in place—"

Her attention snapped back to you instantly.

"Look at me," she demanded, voice breaking despite the steel beneath it. "Look at me."

Your fingers weakly caught at her sleeve. You tried to smile. Even now.

"You're... welcome."

Her face crumpled, just for a second.

The same woman who had hovered over you that morning, kissing you awake, now had your blood soaking into her clothes.

"I didn't need saving," she whispered fiercely.

You coughed softly. "Yeah. You did."

Her magic flared brighter, unstable, pulsing hard enough that the emergency lights flickered in response.

Behind her, somewhere deep in the compound, another explosion rocked the structure.

She didn't move. Didn't look. Didn't care. Her entire universe had narrowed to the warmth draining from your body in her arms.

And for the first time since the alarms began....The Scarlet Witch was afraid.

Wanda's hands pressed against your side, magic pouring from her palms in frantic waves. It wasn't controlled anymore, it surged and stuttered, reacting to her panic. The air around you warped faintly, like heat over asphalt.

"Don't move," she breathed, voice unsteady. "I have it. I have it."

You let out a strained huff that might've been a laugh. "You're... shaking."

"I am not," she snapped automatically.

Her fingers trembled harder.

You could feel the blade had gone deep. Every breath dragged against it, sharp and wet. But the pain wasn't what made your chest tighten.

It was her face.

You'd seen Wanda angry. Ruthless. Untouchable. You had never seen her look small.

"Hey," you murmured, swallowing through the copper taste rising in your throat. Your hand lifted weakly, brushing clumsily against her wrist. "It's okay."

"It is not okay," she said immediately, voice cracking on the last word. "You are bleeding because of me."

"Pretty sure it was the guy with the knife."

Her jaw clenched. Her eyes flared brighter, red light bleeding into the whites.

The hallway lights dimmed in response.

"You should have let me handle him."

You shifted slightly, and a sharp gasp escaped you before you could stop it. Her hands pressed firmer, panic flashing across her face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Stop apologizing." Her voice dropped, low and fierce. "You do not get to apologize."

Another distant explosion rumbled through the compound. The floor trembled beneath you. Dust sifted from the ceiling.

She didn't even glance up.

Her entire body curved over yours, shielding you instinctively, like she could block the world itself if she tried hard enough.

"You can't leave me," she said suddenly. It wasn't a command. It wasn't dramatic.

It was raw.

Your fingers slid weakly into the fabric at her waist, grounding yourself in her warmth. "I'm not planning on it."

Her magic pulsed again, brighter this time, pushing deeper into the wound. You felt heat, intense, searing and you hissed through your teeth.

"Wanda—"

"I have to close it," she said quickly. "The blade missed anything vital. I just— I need a second—"

Her voice faltered.

You could feel it. The way her power trembled when her emotions spiked. The way reality seemed to thin at the edges when she lost control.

The red light overhead flickered violently.

"Wanda," you said more firmly, grabbing her wrist despite the weakness in your grip.

Her eyes snapped to yours instantly.

"Look at me."

She froze. For a second, the magic steadied.

"I need you calm," you whispered. "Not powerful. Calm."

Her breathing was uneven.

You reached up, slow, shaking, and pressed your palm against her cheek. Smearing blood there without meaning to.

Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact. The same way they had that morning when you pulled her down for another kiss.

The memory hung between you. Soft sheets. Sun warmed skin.

Her whisper: Stay a little longer.

Now her forehead rested against yours again, but the air was cold, metallic, filled with alarms and distant gunfire.

"I cannot do this without you," she admitted quietly. "I will not."

"You won't have to," you breathed.

Your strength was fading, not dramatically, not all at once, just a slow heaviness settling into your limbs.

She felt it. Her hands tightened.

"No," she whispered. "Stay with me."

"I am."

Her magic shifted then. Not explosive. Not violent.

Focused.

The red glow around her hands deepened, condensing into something precise, controlled by sheer force of will. The bleeding slowed under her palms. The torn muscle began to knit together, thread by thread.

It hurt. You didn't hide that it hurt. Your nails dug weakly into her side, breath stuttering as the heat intensified.

"I know," she murmured urgently. "I know, I know— just a little more."

Her voice softened unexpectedly.

"You always promised to come back to me."

You managed a faint smile. "I did."

"So you will."

It wasn't a plea this time. It was certainty. Somewhere deeper in the compound, the last of the gunfire faded.

The lockdown siren continued its steady, oppressive wail.

Her magic finally sealed the worst of it. Not perfect. Not clean. But enough.

You slumped more fully into her, exhausted.

Her arms slid around you instantly, lifting you carefully against her chest as if you weighed nothing at all.

Her face pressed into your hair. For a moment, she allowed herself to shake.

Just once. Then her spine straightened. The Scarlet Witch rose from the floor with you in her arms, blood staining her clothes, eyes burning brighter than the emergency lights.

"You're going to be okay," she said quietly into your temple.

And somewhere in the compound, doors began to groan under unseen pressure.

"But first," she whispered, voice turning cold as winter, "no one else touches you."

The hallway doors at the far end buckled inward with a violent groan.

Wanda's head snapped up. Bootsteps. Multiple. Heavy. Coordinated. They'd heard the explosions. They were sweeping the floor.

You felt it too, the vibration through the walls, the faint tremor under her boots as she shifted you higher in her arms.

"Wanda..." your voice was weaker now, breath shallow against her collarbone. "More coming."

"I know."

Her tone was ice.

She adjusted her grip, one arm under your knees, the other braced across your back, keeping pressure subtly aligned with the wound she'd sealed. You could feel her magic still working beneath your skin, slow and steady, holding you together through sheer refusal.

The emergency lights flickered again.

Then the blast doors at the end of the corridor detonated inward.

Smoke flooded the hall. Sparks rained down. Five masked men advanced through the haze, rifles already raised.

They saw her. Saw you bleeding in her arms. They didn't hesitate. Gunfire erupted. Wanda turned her body instinctively, shielding you completely with her back as her free hand snapped up.

A red barrier exploded outward.

Bullets slammed into it in a violent spray, metal flattening midair before clattering uselessly to the floor.

The force of it shoved her heels backward an inch, scraping against steel. Her jaw tightened.

"You will not," she breathed. She thrust her hand forward. The barrier inverted.

Every bullet fragment lifted and launched back with lethal precision. Two men dropped instantly. Another screamed as metal tore through his shoulder.

The remaining attackers split formation, tactical, disciplined, one flanking left, one right.

Smart. Wanda didn't have two hands free.

The one carrying you trembled slightly with the strain.

You felt it.

"Put me down," you rasped.

"No."

"Wanda—"

"No."

Her eyes flared brighter, but you could see the calculation flickering behind them. She couldn't unleash something wide scale without risking you. Every movement had to be controlled.

The man on the right lunged forward, pulling a blade when his rifle jammed.

Too close. Too fast.

Wanda shifted you abruptly, twisting her body to avoid the strike. Pain shot through your side at the movement and you gasped against her shoulder.

The attacker swung again.

Wanda caught his wrist midair with telekinesis, bones audibly straining, and crushed.

He screamed. She flung him sideways into the wall hard enough to dent reinforced steel.

The last man, the one flanking left, raised something small in his hand.

Not a gun. A detonator. Wanda saw it. Her pupils blew wide.

"No."

He pressed it. The hallway floor exploded behind her.

The shockwave hit like a truck, slamming into her back and driving her forward. Her grip tightened around you with inhuman force as debris rained down.

You both hit the ground hard.

Her body curled over yours instantly, shielding your head with her arm as chunks of ceiling crashed around you.

Smoke. Dust. The emergency lights flickered violently before going out completely.

Darkness swallowed everything. For a moment, there was only ringing.

High pitched. Disorienting. Then the dim red glow returned, weaker now, pulsing from damaged strips along the walls.

Wanda pushed up first.

Her hair was dusted with debris. A thin line of blood traced down from her temple, not hers originally, yours smeared across her skin.

Her eyes scanned.

The detonator lay crushed several feet away. The last attacker was trying to crawl.

Trying.

Her expression shifted.

Something ancient and merciless slid behind her gaze.

With a flick of her fingers, the man lifted off the ground, dragged backward across broken metal and concrete. He clawed at the floor, leaving streaks.

She didn't look at him when she closed her fist. The sound was quick.

Final. Silence fell again,heavier this time.

Your breathing hitched beneath her. She snapped back to you instantly, kneeling.

"Talk to me."

You swallowed. "Still... here." Your voice was thinner now.

The blast had taken more out of you than you let on. The seal she'd made was holding, but barely. She could feel it, the strain in her magic like a thread pulled too tight.

She slid one arm beneath you again, lifting carefully. The hallway behind you was collapsed.

The main route to the medical wing, gone. She looked down the opposite direction.

Longer path. Stairs. No elevators. More exposed corridors.

She didn't hesitate. She started running.

Heels abandoned. She kicked them off mid stride without breaking pace, bare feet silent against the cold metal floor as she moved through smoke and flashing red light.

Every corner she turned, her magic moved ahead of her, sweeping, sensing, crushing threats before they could fully emerge.

A man stepped from a side door. He hit the ceiling.

Another fired blindly from the shadows his weapon disassembled in his hands and the force threw him unconscious against the wall.

She wasn't fighting like before. Before had been controlled.

This was primal. You could feel her heart hammering against your cheek.

"Almost there," she whispered, though the medical wing was still two levels down.

Your hand fisted weakly in her torn blazer.

"Wanda..."

"Yes."

"If you drop me, I'm haunting you."

A breath of something like a laugh broke from her, fragile and furious all at once.

"You are not allowed to haunt me."

She reached the stairwell. The door was jammed. She didn't slow. Red energy surged outward and ripped it off its hinges.

The stairwell lights were dead.

Pitch black. She stepped inside anyway.

Her magic lit the space in a low crimson glow as she descended, carrying you through smoke and sirens and the echo of distant chaos.

Behind her, somewhere deep in the compound, the remaining intruders were retreating.

They could feel it now. The shift.

This was no longer a breach. This was a hunt. But Wanda didn't chase.

Not yet.

Right now, the only war that mattered was the one keeping your pulse steady against her chest as she pushed toward the medical wing.

And anyone who stepped between her and that door would not step again.

By the time Wanda reached the medical floor, her breathing had changed. Not ragged. Measured.

Every inhale controlled. Every exhale forced into discipline.

The doors to the medical wing slid open halfway before stuttering, scraping loudly as she forced them the rest of the way with a sharp flick of red energy.

The sight inside stopped her for half a second.

It looked like a battlefield.

Beds pulled into the center of the room. Equipment overturned. Blood across white tile floors. Two nurses crouched beside an agent with a shoulder wound. Another medic was applying pressure to someone's thigh while shouting for gauze that wasn't there.

Overhead lights flickered violently.

Then the medical generators cut.

Everything went black. Gasps echoed. Someone swore.

Then the emergency strips along the baseboards sputtered back to life, flashing dim red in uneven pulses.

The entire wing was bathed in the same bleeding glow as the corridors above.

A nurse looked up first. Her eyes widened instantly.

"Commander—"

They all saw it.

Wanda Maximoff standing in the doorway barefoot, clothes torn, blood smeared across her hands and collar, carrying you like something fragile and irreplaceable.

There was no hesitation in her stride.

No scanning the room. No assessment of damage.

You were her only objective. "Clear a table," she ordered.

Her voice cut through the chaos cleanly. Immediate.

Two nurses scrambled, shoving aside a tray of instruments to make space. One of them reached for you automatically.

Wanda's eyes flashed. The nurse froze mid motion.

"I will handle her," Wanda said.

Not hostile. Final. She laid you down carefully on the cleared table. The metal was cold beneath your back. You winced faintly.

Your skin had gone pale under the red light.

The makeshift seal she'd created was holding, but barely. Sweat beaded at your temple. Your breathing was shallow, uneven.

A medic stepped closer cautiously. "Commander, we need stable lighting, imaging— the generators—"

"I know."

Her voice was tight.

Another explosion rumbled faintly somewhere distant in the compound. Dust drifted from a ceiling vent.

The emergency lights flickered again. Then steadied. But weaker.

One of the nurses whispered, "We're running on auxiliary battery. It won't last."

Wanda didn't respond. She stepped closer to you, placing both hands back over your wound.

The med staff watched. They'd seen her fight. They'd seen what she could do to enemies. This was different. This was precision. This was fear sharpened into something lethal and controlled.

"Her blood pressure is dropping," a medic murmured, checking manually since monitors were dead. "We need to—"

Wanda's magic ignited. Not explosive. Not wild.

Dense.

It glowed deeper than before, a saturated crimson that illuminated the entire room brighter than the failing strips along the floor.

Shadows recoiled from her.

You sucked in a sharp breath as heat flooded your side again. It hurt worse this time. There was no surgical assistance now. No equipment. No imaging.

Just her.

She leaned over you, jaw clenched, fingers splayed as energy seeped through skin, muscle, torn vessels. She could feel everything, the damage, the internal bruising from the blast, the strain your body was under.

"Wanda..." you whispered faintly.

Her eyes snapped to yours immediately.

"I'm here."

"You're... glowing."

Despite everything, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Focus."

A tremor ran through her magic as the lights overhead flickered violently again.

Then the remaining generator died completely. The room plunged into near darkness. Only her magic remained.

Red light bathed the entire medical wing, casting every injured agent, every nurse, every overturned tray in a surreal, hellish glow.

It looked less like a hospital. More like the aftermath of something catastrophic.

A nurse instinctively stepped back. No one spoke. The only sounds were distant alarms and your strained breathing.

Wanda lowered her forehead briefly to yours as she worked, voice dropping so only you could hear.

"You are not dying in my arms today."

Your lips moved weakly. "Wasn't... planning on it."

Her power deepened. She wasn't just sealing the wound now. She was rebuilding. Carefully rethreading torn muscle fibers. Forcing ruptured vessels closed. Easing internal bleeding. Reinforcing what shock had destabilized.

It drained her. You could see it, the way her shoulders tensed, the slight shake creeping back into her hands.

A medic whispered to another, "She's overexerting—"

Wanda heard. Her head tilted slightly. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

"I am fine," she said without looking away from you.

Her magic surged again.

You cried out this time, back arching slightly from the table before she pressed you down gently with her forearm.

"I know," she breathed urgently. "I know. Stay with me."

Your fingers found her sleeve again, weaker than before but still there.

"I'm not... going anywhere."

Her eyes burned.

"You are not allowed."

The wound finally began to close fully beneath her hands. Skin knitting together in thin, glowing seams that slowly faded from red to normal tone.

Your breathing steadied. Still shallow. But steadier.

The medics exchanged glances. 

When the last thread sealed, Wanda didn't pull her hands away immediately.

She kept them there, hovering. Making sure. Your pulse strengthened under her senses.

You were still pale. Still exhausted.

But alive.

The red glow around the room dimmed slightly as her power eased. The darkness crept back in at the edges.

One nurse finally moved forward slowly. "Commander... we need to check for internal trauma."

Wanda looked at her then. Really looked. And for a split second, the Scarlet Witch flickered behind her eyes, warning, territorial, dangerous.

Then she looked back at you. Your eyes were open.

Tired.

But focused on her.

"I've got her," the nurse added gently.

There was a long pause. Then Wanda stepped half an inch back.

Only half.

"I am not leaving," she said quietly.

No one argued.

Because the way she stood there, blood stained, glowing faintly in the darkness, positioned between you and the rest of the world made it very clear.

You were her sole priority.

And anyone who mistook that devotion for weakness had not seen what she did in the halls above.

The Quinjet hadn't even fully powered down before Natasha knew something was wrong.

The landing platform lights were off. Not dimmed. Off.

Only emergency strips along the perimeter glowed faint red against the concrete, casting long skeletal shadows across the hangar walls.

Yelena stepped down first, rifle slung casually over her shoulder. "Either we missed a party," she muttered dryly, scanning the empty deck, "or someone forgot to pay the electricity bill."

Natasha didn't answer. She was already moving.

Her boots hit the platform in a smooth, controlled stride, eyes sweeping every corner, every blind spot, cataloguing damage before she even consciously processed it.

There were scorch marks along the far wall.

One of the access doors hung crooked on its hinges.

And in the distance, faint but unmistakable, the low wail of a lockdown siren cycling through the lower levels.

"FRIDAY," Natasha said sharply as she drew her sidearm in one fluid motion, the familiar weight settling into her grip like an extension of her arm. "Status report."

There was a beat of static before the AI responded, voice calm but edged with interference.

"Director Romanoff. Level Three security breach occurred forty seven minutes ago. Multiple hostile entities infiltrated the compound through sub basement access points. Lockdown protocol engaged. Power grid compromised in sectors two through five."

Yelena's expression shifted, humor gone, eyes narrowing.

"Casualties?" Natasha asked, already heading toward the interior access corridor.

"Confirmed injured: nine agents. Two critical. No confirmed fatalities at this time."

Natasha's jaw tightened slightly.

"And Maximoff?"

A pause.

"Commander Maximoff is currently in the medical wing."

Natasha's pace didn't falter, but her voice sharpened a degree.

"And my daughter?"

Another brief flicker of static.

"Agent Y/n Romanoff status: severe laceration to left abdominal quadrant. Stabilized. Currently under Commander Maximoff's supervision in medical."

The world narrowed. Not outwardly. Not visibly. But something inside Natasha went cold and razor focused.

Yelena glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "She alive?"

"Yes," Natasha replied evenly.

But her grip on the gun tightened.

They moved through the corridors fast, clearing corners, weapons raised. The compound smelled like smoke and burned circuitry. Overhead lights flickered intermittently, casting unstable shadows that shifted with every step.

A body lay at the end of the first hall. Masked.

Neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Yelena crouched briefly, inspecting the damage. "That's not gunfire."

"No," Natasha said quietly.

They turned the corner. Another.

This one embedded halfway into a wall, metal buckled inward around him like he'd been thrown by something that didn't understand restraint.

Yelena exhaled slowly. "Your witch is upset."

Natasha didn't comment. But she could read the trail.

This wasn't random combat. This was a path.

A straight line of devastation cutting through the compound toward medical.

Wanda.

And if Wanda had been forced into that state.....

Natasha's expression hardened further. A sharp crack echoed from deeper in the corridor.

Gunfire. Not Wanda's style.

"FRIDAY, remaining hostiles?"

"Three active life signatures moving toward east stairwell. Attempting exfiltration."

Natasha's eyes flicked toward Yelena.

"Left flank."

Yelena smirked faintly. "Finally, something interesting."

They split without another word.

Natasha moved like she always had, silent, efficient, lethal. She rounded the corner just as one of the masked men emerged from a side passage, rifle raised and wild eyed.

He didn't see her in time. Two suppressed shots. Center mass. He dropped before he could shout.

The second attacker reacted faster, firing blindly down the hall.

Natasha rolled into cover, returned fire with precise economy, one shot to disable the shoulder, another to the thigh.

He screamed and fell. She was on him in seconds, kicking the rifle away and pressing her gun under his chin.

"Who sent you?" she asked, voice calm and deadly soft.

He spat something in another language. She didn't blink.

Yelena appeared behind him and struck him hard across the temple with the butt of her weapon.

"Less talking," Yelena muttered. "More capturing, yes?"

Natasha holstered her gun smoothly and knelt, securing the man's wrists with brutal efficiency.

"We're taking him alive," she said. "I want answers."

Yelena glanced down the hall at the wreckage left behin, at the warped metal and bodies that clearly hadn't survived Wanda's path.

"Maximoff already interrogated some of them, I think."

Natasha stood. Her gaze shifted toward the direction of the medical wing. For the first time since stepping off the jet, something flickered across her face.

"She was ambushed," Natasha said quietly, more to herself than to Yelena.

She could see it now in her mind, the angle, the chaos, the kind of breach that isolates targets. You had always been good at stepping into danger first. Too good.

She had trained you that way. From fifteen years old, stubborn, grieving, too sharp for your own good.

She'd taught you how to hold a knife. How to fall without breaking bone. How to get back up when it hurt.

And now someone had put a blade in you.

Her jaw set.

"FRIDAY," she said, voice returning to director level steel. "Lock down east stairwell. Route medical backups to sector three. Alert interrogation room to prepare."

"Yes, Director."

Yelena hoisted the restrained attacker easily. "You go to her," she said, tone losing its sarcasm for once. "I will make sure no one else leaves."

Natasha hesitated only a fraction of a second.

Then she nodded.

She moved toward medical at a pace just shy of running, controlled, but urgent.

When she reached the doors, she saw the red glow spilling out before she stepped inside.

The generators were dead. The room was lit almost entirely by Wanda.

Agents lay on cots. Nurses moved quickly in the crimson haze.

And at the center of it... You. On a table. Pale. Alive.

Wanda standing over you like a guardian carved from something ancient and volatile.

For one suspended moment, Natasha didn't move.

She took in the blood on Wanda's hands.

The way Wanda stood slightly angled, as if still shielding you even now. The way your fingers weakly curled in the fabric of her sleeve.

Natasha's composure cracked, not visibly to anyone else, but inside.

Her daughter. Her kid. Still breathing.

She stepped forward.

"Report," she said calmly.

But her eyes never left you. And beneath the director. Beneath the Black Widow. A mother was counting every rise and fall of your chest.

Night in the compound passed in fragments.

Interrogations. Repairs. Containment teams sweeping corridors until every shadow was accounted for. The hum of temporary generators kicking back to life in staggered sectors. Low voices. Controlled chaos stitched back together with discipline and exhaustion.

And through all of it... Wanda never left your side. Neither did Natasha.

Morning came pale and quiet.

The medical wing no longer glowed red. Power had been partially restored; soft white lights hummed overhead, sterile and almost too bright after the night before. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and burned circuitry.

You floated somewhere between sleep and weight.

There was a steady beep near your ear now. A monitor. Reconnected.

Your side felt tight, not sharp pain anymore, but deep soreness, like your body had been pulled apart and carefully reassembled.

Voices drifted in and out.

"...overexerted herself."

"She hasn't slept."

"She won't."

That one you recognized.

Natasha.

Your eyelids felt heavy, but you forced them upward.

The world blurred first, white ceiling, indistinct shapes, then slowly sharpened.

Red hair. Leaning over you. Cool fingers brushing gently against your temple.

"There she is," Natasha whispered.

Her voice wasn't director sharp. It wasn't Black Widow steel. It was soft. Controlled. But threaded with something warmer.

Across the room, pacing. Back and forth.

Barefoot. Wanda. She hadn't changed clothes. Same torn fabric, though cleaned now. Hair loose, slightly tangled. Arms folded tight across herself like she was holding her own ribs in place.

At Natasha's whisper, she froze mid step. Completely still.

You blinked again, vision clearing fully. Natasha's face came into focus first, composed, but her eyes were rimmed faintly red, like she hadn't blinked enough in hours.

"Easy," she murmured as your breathing shifted. "Don't try to sit up."

Your throat felt dry. "Wasn't... planning on it."

The faintest smirk ghosted across her lips.

Behind her Wanda moved. Slowly. Like approaching something fragile. Her voice was barely above a breath.

"You're awake." It wasn't a question.

You turned your head slightly toward her. She looked different in daylight. Less supernatural.

More human.Which somehow made the exhaustion on her face worse.

"Hi," you croaked.

She crossed the rest of the distance in three steps.

Not rushed. But inevitable.

Natasha stepped aside automatically, though she didn't move far.

Wanda stopped beside the bed, hands hovering uncertainly for a second before one finally settled carefully over yours.

Like she needed confirmation. Like she still didn't trust what she was seeing.

"You scared everyone," you murmured faintly.

Her jaw flexed. "I was not scared."

Natasha gave her a look. Wanda didn't look away from you.

"You lost a dangerous amount of blood," Wanda continued, voice controlled but thin around the edges. "Your vitals destabilized twice during the night."

"Twice?" you muttered weakly.

Natasha's hand came to rest lightly against your shoulder, grounding.

"You're difficult," she said evenly. "Always have been."

You managed the ghost of a smile. Your fingers tightened slightly in Wanda's grip. She felt it immediately. Her shoulders dropped half an inch.

A breath she hadn't allowed herself to take since the hallway finally left her lungs.

"I told you," you said quietly, eyes flicking between them. "Wasn't going anywhere."

Wanda's thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. "You are not allowed to make promises like that and then test them."

There was no bite to it.

Just raw truth.

[smallandsundry]

brief break from bishova for some ⧗

[nun-on-the-run]

Beatrice should have known better.

But really, even when she's given up her vows, the sister warrior in her still burns with the need to be of use. To be of service. It's branded into her very bones.

So when she had overheard a group of men, most likely to be the remnants of Adriel's zealots, she couldn't let the opportunity pass.

Maybe, just maybe they could have found a way to reach Adriel and in turn, a way to reach Ava.

No, she couldn't let the opportunity pass.

So that's how she found herself in her current predicament. A blade buried so deep in her side she could feel the serrated edge of it scraping pass a rib on its way in.

She retaliates by throat-punching the assailant, eyes ink black and she gasps when he pulls the blade with him on his way down the dark staircase.

His screams echo, mixing with the familiar high-pitched screech of a wraith in the empty building until a dull thud was heard.

The sound of blood was roaring in her ears, and she blinked back the white stars dotting her blackening vision as her side pulses with hot, lancing pain with each heartbeat.

There wasn't a time for her to collect her bearings however when she heard the angry shouts of more men coming her way.

She stumbles back, her hand shoots out to steady herself, leaving a bloody trail as she climbs out the window and into the dark.

-

She's running-stumbling, slips on a loose roof tile and falls through a poorly concealed hole on the roof she was running on.

A momentary weightlessness, then-

She crashes onto the ground, hard. She can feel something break. A bone? Bones?

She doesn't know, cannot pinpoint where it hurts when everything hurts as she lays in what she thinks is an abandoned apartment, judging from the swirling dust and the dank smell of mildew.

She stills then, her OCS training kicking into play. Listening, sensing for any sound or movement that would indicate that she's not alone, that it wasn't safe yet.

When she hears nothing, she takes in a shuddering breath and is met with a blinding pain that leaves her breathless.

She turns onto her side, gasping, clawing at the hardwood underneath her and heaves herself onto all fours. Blood drips steadily from the wound in her side, hot and viscous.

She tries to stand, slips on wet blood and stumbles forward, making her way to the far corner of the room. Her back slides, gracelessly to the ground and her bones rattle at the impact.

Blood loss is imminent, she thinks, have to find a way to stop it.

Survive, Mother Superion's voice echoes in her head.

Her head lolls weakly to the side, black clawing at the edges of her vision but she sees it. A white sheet covering abandoned furniture.

She reaches out blindly, hands grasping at air and her side burns anew with the effort.

Gritting her teeth, she reaches out again, farther this time and grasps at the sheet, pulling it towards her.

She tears a strip and with clumsy fingers, ties it around her midriff, sucks in a breath and pulls.

Tighter. You have to stop the flow.

A fresh surge of pain lances through her, up her spine and blinds her. Her body spasms, uncontrollably. She sees her legs jerking, slides against the floor trying to find purchase and she's seeing all this like an out of body experience.

Then, she knows no more.

-

She's drenched in cold sweat the next time she wakes up. Must have blacked out, she thinks.

Strips of light were peeking through the blocked out windows and she groggily realizes that she's been here all night.

Her bound wound is aching, throbbing dully with each pump of her heart and when she passes a hand along it, heat radiates from it.

An infection probably, blood loss most likely.

She's shivering now and cold- oh so very cold.

This is it, she thinks, this is how she dies.

Maybe...maybe she'll get to meet Ava, wherever she is.

Sweet, sweet Ava.

She could see a vision of her on the back of her eyelids, ever so vibrant. She coughs and she's then suddenly reeling from the bright hot pain, the vision of Ava laughing, smiling flickering in and out.

Her consciousness was leaving her again and her head lolls to the side, fingers twitching in an effort to keep awake, but she knows it's a losing battle, but then-

"Wake up sleepy-head", a familiar voice, giggles to her right and her eyelids twitch, head turning to seek out the voice.

"It's really not like you to sleep on the job, Bea".

"Ava?", her voice cracks from disuse, eyebrows shooting up in an effort to pry open her heavy eyelids. Her eyes manage to open a sliver, and she sees her.

Her Ava, in all her blinding glory.

She's dressed the same as when she left albeit lacking the bloody holes and glowing divinium and sports the same toothy grin that she had grown to love over the months they had spent together. The one she had missed.

"Are-", she gasps, "are you really here?".

"I am. I'm here, Bea", she could almost feel ghostly fingers against her cheek and she shivers, breath rattling in her lungs.

"I missed you", her voice warbles, thick with emotion eventhough deep down she knows that this could only be a figment of her imagination, a feverish dream.

Mercy, one would say, before the inevitable.

Ava sits before her, bracketing her legs and cold hands cradle her warming cheeks.

"Then come with me", she says as she leans in close, their noses touch and Beatrice sighs, leans into careful hands, relishing in the familiarity of the calluses and grooves there.

There's a low ringing in her ears, foreboding and she can feel herself slipping.

"Ava, I'm tired"

Ava smiles then, fingers stroking her cheeks, "Sleep then, I'll be here".

Beatrice hums, the hand that was pressed to her side falls but consciousness would not leave her yet.

Something was wrong. She thinks she sees red in the periphery of her vision.

"Ava?", she asks again, tastes the blood in the back of her throat.

Ava hums a tuneless tune, fingers smoothing back sweat-slicked bangs and Beatrice sighs at the familiar comfort, overshadowing the warning bells in her mind.

The ringing is growing louder now, insistent.

Ava leans in, a faint whisper of a kiss on her forehead.

"Let go, Beatrice"

"I can't", her heart is beating slower underneath her sternum, body heavy but the ringing in her ears grows louder still.

"Let go", Ava says again, her smile stretches wider, a red haze surrounding her and Beatrice shudders at the sight.

The haze around Ava grows, creeping towards her, surrounding her. Darkness claw at the edges of her vision, her fingertips tingle, heart beat slowing beat by beat.

The ringing is deafening and then-

"Let her go!"

A burst of gold and white and light and an authoritative voice.

The image of Ava in front of her warps and twists on itself. The smile that was stretched on familiar pink lips, warps into a snarl and Ava bursts into a kaleidoscope of red and gold and light.

And then..

Multiple hands grasp at her, touching, pulling and she feels herself being pulled into strong arms. It was chaos around her, so much different than the quiet stillness from before.

"Beatrice! Hang on, please hang on".

"Ava?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here", Ava's worried face looms above her. Even with her darkening vision, she could see that this Ava was different. Older, hair a tad bit longer than the last she'd seen her.

"Can you teleport us all out?", Ava says breathlessly to the figure behind her and Beatrice shudders suddenly, feels herself slipping again.

"Yes, I can try. Jillian's?"

"Please Lillith"

The arms surrounding her tightens and she hears Ava whisper into her hair as she holds her close.

"I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, just please stay with me".

Beatrice nods, hands gripping Ava's forearms. A faint pulling sensation at the center of her being and darkness consumes her.

[nun-on-the-run]

Finally decided to post this drabble in AO3 with some minor changes. Have a go at it if you would like!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[unholyhelbig]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader with "Who did this to you?"

Title: Hallway Meetings

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2077

Warnings: Injuries, blood, bruising, mugging, Bad Grammar

[A/n: I haven't written Nat in awhile, so here is some hurt comfort!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the adrenaline had sufficiently worn off. The rush of energy that kept the pain at bay was the only thing that made it possible for you to sit through the bus ride across the city, the lights were much too bright and blue, your head pounding. You pressed your fingers against your ribs on the ride home, each exhalation trembling.

Somewhere along the way, the bus came rolling to a stop and the man behind the wheel huffed out at you. “End of the line.”

You were the only one on the bus, and by that time, you were fighting sleep entirely. There was no one else on the bus, and you didn’t see the point in arguing with him. His eyes were tired and dark. Something told you he was having a worse day than you were.

With begrudging compliance, you walked the three blocks to your building. You had forgotten your coat, and by the time you made it to the entrance, there was a numbness to the fingers that you refused to realize until you typed your code in and felt what real warmth was for only a moment.

The lobby smelled damp, as it always did despite the dry winter that the city was experiencing. Sickly yellow lights changed the tile on the floor from beige to green, and you lamented the fact that the elevator that had been busted since your move-in date was still in the same condition.

Any other day, it wouldn’t’ bother you. But you let out an involuntary groan at the sight before making your way up the first flight of stairs, your fingers still pushed against the aching of your mid-section. You were certain that they were broken, or at the very least, bruised. It pained you to take a deep breath.

Two more flights of stairs and the excitement of the night had worn away entirely. Your whole body pulsed with pain, with fatigue and regret for not listening to your mother the million times she told you to be careful on your way home, to keep an eye on your surroundings.

It’s not you that I don’t trust, it’s other people. Her words echoed listlessly in your mind as you searched your pockets for your keys. The group of men who had jumped you must have snagged them too, or they were lost in the shuffle of things. Either way, you were locked out, and the damn was about to break.

“Come on,” You whispered, pressing your aching head against the cool wood of the door. You suppose you should be thinking whatever higher power was up there for letting you escape with your life, just not your cell phone. But right now, it all felt like a cruel joke.

You weren’t sure how long you lingered there, but it was long enough to slide down to the carpeted hallway and lean your head against the wall. It was much too late to call your landlord, even if you could. You were suddenly content to sleep the night off in the corridor. Concussion or not, unconsciousness called to you.

At some point, you’d drifted off to the buzzing sound of the overhead lights. When your neighbor approached, you didn’t’ make any attempt to unfold yourself at the sound of her soft footsteps. She had always been so courteous when she was home, making as little noise as possible, even when she arrived well into the night. This was no different.

She put her hand on your shoulder softly, it was a stark difference from the cold of the hallway, and you startled all the same, inhaling deeply and with enough haste to make you wince, a soft “ow,” escaping your lips.

Natasha was knelt down in front of you, an undeniable look of worry on her face. The two of you had been neighbors for over a year now, and you would be the last to admit that you wanted to get to know her better. She was quite elusive, and always kind. She was a mystery to you, and that made you all the more curious.

The two of you operated on the same schedule when she was home. You often ended up walking down to the mailboxes together, sharing in small talk. She was guarded at first, but the first time you had gotten her to open up, to laugh at a joke you couldn’t even recall, you knew that you wanted to hear that sound more than once.

Natasha would help you up the stairs with your groceries, despite your protests. You would help her learn how to cook something other than boxed mac and cheese. The two of you had shared a six-pack of beer during the buildings holiday block party on the roof, despite the cold. That night, Natasha had taught you how to peg a stop sign with a snowball, her aim impeccable.

The moments were few and far between, but they meant something to you both. You hadn’t seen her for about a month at this point and figured that she was traveling. There was no mention of what she did for work, and she seemed content not to tell you, just as you were content to let her do so in her own time. 

There was a suitcase next to her door, something you had never seen her with before. She was dressed in sweats, looking casual from a long day of travel. Her auburn hair was up in a loose bun, strands falling and framing her face. You couldn’t help but think that she was stunning.

Your face must have looked pretty banged up, because you could audibly hear her breath lodge in her throat. You hadn’t bothered calling the police, nor did you see much benefit in lingering in the spot that you’d been attacked. The only thought on your mind was getting back here, certainly not with the intention of seeing Natasha.

“Y/n,” her voice was gravelly. There was a coolness to her fingers that you wanted to lean into as she lifted your chin to get a better look at the pulsing feeling around your eye. You winced as her thumb moved against your busted lip, smearing away a streak of blood. “Who did this to you?”

Her voice was hard, almost with an edge of a threat on her tongue. You’d never heard her sound this way before. She was always soft, if not quiet in her calculations. Now, you saw worry and anger etched onto her beautiful features.

“Just some guys,” you said in an exhalation. “It’s not a big deal I got locked out.” 

The attempt to diffuse her worry was going poorly. Natasha frowned at you and released your chin. You struggled to voice your protests as Natasha eased her arm tightly around your center, pulling you to your feet. You saw stars, not quite sure if it was from her sudden closeness, or the exhaustive injuries.

Natasha was strong. She held you with little effort, even as you threatened to slump back down into your previous position. She unlocked her door, and you were welcomed with a warm darkness until she flicked on the light by the door.

Her home was modest, and understated. It overlooked a beautiful part of the city, the walls lined with novels that you’d otherwise be interested in. There were undertones of vanilla and tobacco, the same scent Natasha carried like a sword, your nose pressed against the small of her neck as she led you to the sofa and deposited you there.

Natasha vanished down the hallway. If her apartment mirrored yours, she would move towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. You nudged yourself up taller on the sofa, trying not to let your blood wick into its fabric. When She returned, she sheepishly shook a first-aide kit.

She set out her supplies and you groaned when you saw the bottle of iodine and cotton pads. She had done this before. Natasha worked with ease, she unscrewed the cap on the bottle before flipping it onto the pad, a sick brown liquid sopped into the surface. You could smell it from here, nose crinkling in response.

“Stop squirming, this will help.”

You highly doubted that, but all the same, let her work at the cut that was slit across your eyebrow. She dabbed the antiseptic and you refused to pull away. You knew that you would never try to get out of Natasha’s grasp. Her hand was warm and guiding. The sting eventually eased.

She asked, “Do you remember where you were when this happened?”

“Whoever they are, they’re long gone.”

You drew in a sharp breath when she nudged your ribs by accident. A discontent frown fell across her features. It wasn’t the same look of heated anger that dawned on her in the hallway. Instead, this was one of pure concern.

“We should really wrap that, you know? There’s no cure for broken ribs, but we can ease your suffering a bit with some plastic wrap.”

Before you could answer she put the iodine on the table and walked towards her kitchen. You watched her carefully. Each movement was calculated. “How do you know so much about this?”

“I’ve been put into some unsavory positions.” Natasha returned with a meager roll of cellophane. She stood, a pink color on her cheeks. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt.”

Now you were sputtering, mumbling a few things under your breath. The thrumming of your mid-section was enough for you to agree, even though your own cheeks heated up at the thought. She had a bit of a quirk to her lip, both eyebrows raised in amusement.

You got stuck halfway through, a twinge of pain shooting through your core. You must have winced, or Natasha could read the pain in your eyes because she mercifully helped you the rest of the way out. When she was done, the two of you were incredibly close, her breath warm on your skin, goosebumps coating every inch of your body.

A budding bruise stretched across your ribs, marring the tender flesh there. Natasha exhaled deeply, you felt the action everywhere. Her fingers moved across the deep smudges of brown and black and purple. Your mouth was suddenly dry as her forehead leaned against yours. She was quieter than usual.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” Natasha was knelt in front of you again, glowering as her soft touch soothed your aching. “I’ve spent my entire life making up for mistakes that I’ve made. Trying to stop the big bads of the world when… when horrible things happen everywhere, and the truth is, I can’t stop everything.”

“You don’t need to shoulder that responsibility, Natasha.” You mindlessly cupped her cheek and she sighed into the touch, her eyes closing for a moment of gratitude. “That’s not your job.”

“It is,” She swallowed hard “it is. And it pains me that you’re hurting like this. That I couldn’t protect you. All I’ve wanted to do since the moment I’ve met you is protect you from me, and seeing you like this, God, it shouldn’t’ have happened.”

She was crying, and you thumbed them away as she had done with your blood a few moments earlier. If there was any hesitancy in her emotion, it washed away with the simple gesture. Her nose brushed against yours, cold from the journey home.

Nat smelled of melted snow and you remembered the night on the rooftop. The way your elbows brushed together as you watched the lights over the city. You almost closed the distance then and there, but she’d pulled away, and you awkwardly downed another frothy beer before she threw a second snowball, nailing the stop sign where you had fallen short.

Now, it was her that leaned in. There was a slight nip of pain where your lip had split, but it eased slowly into pleasure. She tasted like hazelnut coffee from the airport, of an edge of mind. Your fingers traced her jaw. She sighed into the kiss, the most fragile sound in the world.

You broke the embrace regrettably, sucking air through your teeth “oh, ouch.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry” she chuckled softly, nudging her forehead with her own, touch dancing over your midsection. “We really should get you patched up.”

[shut-up-math]

Dear every person about to start writing New Avengers/Thunderbolts fan fiction, keep the old ways alive

Clint is still in the vents

there is a box of old pop tarts from 2005 that Red Guardian eats

Yalena finds Nats old knives stuck to a ceiling too tall for anyone to get down.

Bob makes loki's old cell his new indoor green house

The possibilities are endless!

[wandafiction]

Drunk

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, very drunk reader, reader gets sick, mentions of blood.

You are sitting on one of the many empty stools at the not so empty bar nursing your third whiskey, or was it fourth? Maybe fifth? The party is in full swing, the birthday boy (Tony Stark) is currently giving a speech on stage. Something about how you only turn 48 once and that people should leave their many gifts for him on the stage. You scoff to yourself, sure you and Tony were friends, but you swear- sometimes - even you wonder why,  when he is so far stuck up his own ass you're sure he can see the daylight coming from his mouth when he speaks. Because my god could that man speak. 

So here you are sitting, drinking, on your own because your girlfriend is currently on a mission and you hate coming to this sort of things without her. Not because you were an antisocial, ball of anxiety…Okay maybe you are…. But you also didn’t know anyone here, not really, you weren’t an avenger like she was. You were just a regular barista at the local coffee shop that just so happened to be the one she would go to every morning for her morning shot of go go juice after going for a run. What you didn’t realise, not until she told you recently, was she only kept coming back to work up the courage to talk to you. 

You smile to yourself just thinking about it. 

You down the rest of your drink taking a look around all the party goers seeing only those she has introduced you to and those you see around the tower when you visit. You see Tony dancing with a drink in one hand swinging his top above his head with the other, cringing slightly at the sight of the drunk man. You spot Steve over on the couches talking to Sam and Bucky on the other couch, all three of them with a beer in hand as they seem lost in the conversation they are having. You smile when you see Bruce raise his drink at you in a small greeting from the other end of the bar, lifting yours in return before you watch him walk over to try and get Tony, who was now trying to rip his pants off as he stood on one of the many tables, away from people. 

“Well what is such a thing like you doing here all on your lonesome?” You turn quickly at the unknown voice behind you squinting your eyes with scrunched brows as you try to see if you recognise the woman. 

“Thing?” It’s now you realise that maybe those five whiskeys, or could it have been seven, were not such a good idea as you struggle to keep your focus on the blonde woman in front of you. Or women, not sure if you were seeing three of her or if there were three different people in front of you.

“Well I saw you enter with Tony Stark himself so I believe I am only right in thinking you must be an avenger, and one of your beauty must be a goddess.” At her words you snort, quickly using your hand to cover your nose and mouth waving the other one at her as your face turns bright red. 

“Goddess?” The three women that you see now merge together, in your drunken state, finally able to see the blonde woman in front of you who has a small smirk on her lips.

“Well now I feel stupid. Are you not a goddess?” You shake your head quickly, not missing how when the woman takes a seat next to you she pulls the stool closer so her knees can rest against yours, but you try to angle your body away from hers not wanting to give her the wrong impression. 

“I am most definitely not a goddess. Just plain old human being.” She gives you a small nod turning to grab the bartender's attention and ordering you both new drinks.

“Okay, well, I’m a normal human being too. You got a name?” 

“Is Y/n. Y/n y/l/n.” You slur out at your hand grabs out for the new drink the bartender has put in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask mine?” You shake your head downing your drink as the one woman blurs into more than one again. 

“Sure. What is your name blondie?”

“The names Jessica. But you can call me Jess.” 

“Well thank you for the drink Jesssssssica.” You giggle as you over pronounce her name leaning back slightly on your stool, Jess seeing the opportunity to place her hand on your leg.

“Sorry, I didn't want you to fall backwards.” She answers when she sees you look down at her hand.

“Mhmm, thanks. Anyway, do you not have anyone around here you should be hanging out with?” Even in your drunken state you know what her aim is and you know it's definitely not something you want.

“No. I’m enjoying drinking with you.”

“Well this is my last one before I leave this place.”

“Can I join you? The party is kind of lame.”

“No, I am just gonna head to the sleeping chambers and try to sleep this off.” You try to pull her hand off your thigh but she is persistent and fights against it.

“Oh you’re no fun. I just wanted to spend the night with you, get to know that amazing body. Then maybe in the morning I can show you the best way to get rid of a hangover.”

“Sorry I am really not interested.” She scrunches her brows leaning closer to you with a pout on her lips.

“Come one, I know you want to.”

“I'm sorry I really don’t and I am in a relationship.” You think the woman rolls her eyes, and maybe you hear her scoff but you definitely don't miss the way her eyes bulge out of her head as she looks behind you, and you don’t miss the feeling of a pair of strong hands landing on your shoulders. 

“I’m just going to…” She slowly removes herself from the stool leaving money to cover both of your drinks. “It was nice meeting you.” 

With that she scurries off and you scrunch your brows, turning around to see who is behind you but the 8, maybe more drinks, have once and for all won the battle of making everything blurry and your words a slurred mess. The hands give your shoulders a small squeeze and your head turns left to right to look at either hand. They are dirty, maybe have some blood on them and when you look up at them their face is not much better. 

You take in her beauty. The red hair, green eyes are all you are able to identify mixed with the dirt and the blood on her face. You can see a small look of worry, amusement and something else as her brows furrow as her eyes scan your face.

“I’m sorry. As I just told blondie I have a girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” You nod your head quickly, humming out a yes as the woman only giggles to herself.

“I think it is time for your bed, detka.” You pout, shaking your head quickly.

“But I want to stay up and see my girlfriend, she should be home soon.” The hands on your shoulders move to cup your face tilting your head to look up at her.

“You really don’t know who I am.” Her tone is amused as you push her hands off your face.

“I already told you I have a girlfriend. And she wouldn’t appr-apprec-apprecia….she wouldn’t like you flirting with me.” Once again the woman only laughs, and you scrunch your brows as it sounds vaguely familiar but can’t quite place it.

“How about this? I help get you to bed, and when you wake up I am sure your kind, loving and drop dead gorgeous girlfriend will be there when you wake up.” You take a moment to think about it, looking the woman up and down every second she becomes more familiar and if she is familiar then you’re sure you can trust her.

“Okay. Thank you. My girlfriend would kill me if she knew how drunk I was right now.”

“I’m not angry, in fact it is quite amusing, but I think we do need to get you in bed to rest.” You look up to the woman as she leads you down the hallway, seemingly knowing where Natasha’s room is.

“Hey, how did you know?” The woman turns to look at you with a raised brow as she opens the door and you stumble inside as she lets go of you for a moment to close the door.

You stumble into the room, cursing as you trip over your own feet and fall with your side hitting the bed and landing on the floor with a hmph. You bring your hand up to rub at your side, the other pulling at the covers on the bed to help you stand but it does nothing as the moment you yank the covers they move and you end up falling on the floor again.

“Fuck it. This is where I am sleeping I guess.” You mumble to yourself, reaching for the blanket that you know is on the bed somewhere behind you.

“Hey, let's get you off the floor my love.” You gasp as you look up to see your girlfriend in front of you moving her arms so they are under yours.

“Baby!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around her pushing yourself forwards causing Natasha to stumble backwards and land on the floor herself. 

“Oh so now you recognize me?” You push yourself up slightly, your hands either side of her head so you can look down at her.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head in question and Natasha raises a brow.

“You mean you don’t remember the past 10….okay nevermind.” She places her hands on your waist gently pushing you off her so she can stand up, your arms moving to hold her hips as you struggle to stand yourself. “Let's get you to bed.”

“Yes! Take me to bed lovergirl!” You jump, knowing Natasha will easily catch you, wrapping your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck as you litter her face with drunken and very sloppy kisses.

Natasha lets you continue smothering her face with kisses as she places you down on the edge of the bed, your body naturally falling backwards; dragging Natasha with you by your arms around her neck. Her hands move out to catch herself so she doesn’t land on top of you and instead hovering above you. You try to use your arms to pull her down more but pout when you realise she isn’t going to budge.

“You can’t be on top of me and not top me baby.” You pout more as your hands start playing with the baby hairs on her neck. “You know I can’t resist you when I see you from this angle.” 

“Not tonight detka. Firstly, you are very drunk and in no way can give consent to anything. Secondly, I’m covered in blood and dirt. Thirdly, you are drunk.”

“Maybe you’re drunk silly because you already said that once.” You giggle as you boop her nose with one hand causing her to roll her eyes at your drunken state.

“Let's get you changed and in bed.” You hum as you close your eyes but only for a second as your brain registers what she said a few seconds ago.

“Wait, blood and dirt?” You push her off of you gently as you sit up, suddenly feeling completely sober in your worried state as your hands and eyes search her body and face for injury.

“It's not mine.” You don’t hear her as your hands grab hers, turning them over multiple times trying to figure out why there is so much blood, but she quickly removes her hands from yours cupping your face and tilting your head so you’re looking at her. “Hey, hey. It’s not mine, my love. It’s not mine.”

“Not yours.” Your voice trembles as you mumble the words back to her and Natahsa nods her head brushing some hair out of your face.

“It’s not mine.” She repeats softly back to you as you look back up to her about to say something but your body says otherwise.

Quickly you’re off the bed and running into the bathroom only just making it to the toilet as the contents of however many drinks you’ve had, surely it was 10. Or maybe 12.Your knuckles turn white with how hard you are holding the sides of the toilet, coughing as the vomiting subsides for the moment. You don’t dare move your head from where it rests on the top of the toilet seat, too afraid that any movement will cause your stomach to turn.

“Oh detka.” Natasha crouches down to your height holding a small cup of water towards you, as her other hand reaches to pull the flush. “Don’t drink too much too quickly otherwise you will make yourself sick, just rinse your mouth out for a moment. 

You lazily nod your head, now feeling the room spin as you do so the feeling of sick raising again. You shut your eyes tightly, your hand that's holding the cup shaking slightly as your body tries to recover from already throwing up, and Natasha seems to take notice as she removes the cup from your hand placing it on the floor next to her. She moves closer to you, her hands going to your hair as she does it up in a messy bun as her eyes stay trained mostly to your face watching carefully for any changes in your appearance. Just as she finishes tying your hair your body lurches forward as another round of vomiting up alcohol begins.

You don’t know how long your head has been down the toilet for, or how long Natasha has simply stayed by your side but what you do know is your throat hurts and there are tears rolling down your face from throwing up. You did eventually stop, and you cleaned your teeth next to the toilet just in case. You lean against Natasha more as she wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you against her as you both slowly move to lean against the wall of the bathroom.

“I’m sorry Tasha.” Nat is quick to silence you as she shakes her head, pressing a kiss to your temple as she uses her finger and thumb on your chin to turn your head.

“Do not apologise detka. You have nothing to apologise for.” Your bottom lip temples a little as Nat moves a hand to wipe at your tears, your head instinctively leaning into the touch.

“I do. You came back from a mission, and instead of sorting yourself out you’ve been stuck looking after me.” 

“Hush.” She presses her finger against your lips, once and for all stopping you from talking, you knew she was serious by the look she was giving you and it made you shrink back a little bit. “I am not angry, or mad or maybe a little frustrated but that's more to do with the fact that that woman was flirting with you when you were clearly too drunk to even know what was going on. Now let's get you into bed, then I will sort myself out and join you.”

Natasha helped you off the cold bathroom floor leading you back to the bedroom and once again placing you on the bed, this time making sure she had a hold of your body so you didn’t fall backwards. Your eyes start to feel heavy, closing slowly as you feel Natasha start to undo the few buttons on your blouse before lifting it over your head and in the next moment removing your bra. She pushes your body slightly, giggling when you flop backwards so she can unbutton your pants and remove them with some struggle as they get stuck on around your ankles for a second. 

The next moment your arms are being pulled and your body moves off the bed so you are sitting back up. You open your eyes with a goofy smile on your face as you see Natasha grabbing one of her shirts for you to wear. You lift your arms above your head earning a small chuckle and a kiss on the forehead from your girlfriend as she slides the top on you.

“Crawl into bed then baby I won’t be long.” 

You were already nearly asleep, your body and mind exhausted from being drunk and then throwing it all back up, laying on your back because you felt to sick to lay any other way when you feel the bed dip and the covers move slightly. Natasha leves a small kiss on your cheek as she shuffles as close to you as possible without being on top of you knowing it would not help you right now. Her hand rests on your sternum, her finger drawing small shapes as she looks up at you from where her head rests just next to your shoulder. 

“I love you, you big idiot.” You smile tiredly, peeking one eye open to look down at her.

“I love me too.” You giggle as she hits your chest gently rolling her eyes. “I’m joking, I love you too.”

“Good because next time you are dealing with a drunk me.” You smile closing your eyes again as you let your body completely relax again teetering on the edge of sleep, as Natasha’s hand continues to draw patterns on your chest. 

“I would love to see a drunk Natasha.” Is the last thing you mumble before letting sleep consume you not hearing Natasha’s next words.

“I’m so gonna marry you one day you drunken fool.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[kermittedfelony]

yelena belova masterlist

TWs at top of each fic! make sure you check them before reading <3

Last updated: 16/03/25

O N E S H O T S

close call

Summary: mission go bad. bombs are involved.

[kermittedfelony]

close call

TW: violence, injuries, swearing, shit humour lol

Yelena Belova x gn!reader

Word count: 3959

Both you and Yelena were well prepared for the mission, Steve having given a very detailed, boring, and long briefing (which was anything but brief). Both of you had attempted as best you could to pay proper attention, you really had. It wasn’t your fault that the more you tried to focus, the more truly unique ideas you both came up with for addons to Tony’s suit. Some ridiculous, some… okay all ridiculous.

Basically, the mission was a straightforward enter, grab and smash; infiltrate an ex-secretive munitions warehouse that (should be) empty, plug a pre-programmed device Tony had designed into the main console, ensure the program to run its course, plant bombs, exit before bombs explode. Five step plan, badabing badaboom.

Except, there was no badabing, and too much badaboom.

You were currently on the quinjet over to the mission drop-off point. Yelena had just left the cockpit, having set the jet to autopilot, allowing her to get into her gear and go over last-minute plans with you.

You were sat in one of the seats, blueprints of the warehouse on your lap. You were going over every exit and entry route, making sure you had it all memorised. You were fairly confident in Steve’s briefing and yours and Yelena’s abilities, but you could never be too prepared.

You felt Yelena standing over your shoulder, so naturally you flicked her right in the nose.

“Gah! Suka! (bitch) What was that for dipshit?” She replied, clutching her nose in faux pain. You had literally witnessed her get her nose broken and start laughing.

“Sometimes I just can’t resist,” you chuckled. Yelena grumbled something in Russian in response, but you didn’t deign to listen, instead pointing out the exits and entries to her.

“We got 3 entries on ground level, and one exit onto the roof. No windows or doors on the other 4 storeys in-between. I’m honestly surprised this place wasn’t used as an evil villain lair set piece in a movie. Or that SHIELD didn’t take one look at it and bomb it to hell.

“I mean, to be fair, why the hell would they want to look in this wasteland? There’s shit all for miles.”

You looked up out of the window on your left. “That is... very true,” you muttered, nodding your head.

You two continued to plot out routes to in and out of the building, before JARVIS announced landing was about to begin. Yelena went to take over the controls, and you took one final look at the plans before preparing the weapons for yourself and your mission partner.

As soon as you set your foot on the earth at the base of the ramp, your brain switched over to mission mode. The cold air washed over your face, sharpening your senses, and making your breath cloud in front of you. Walking in single file, you both walked due East, bush-whacking your way to the warehouse’s location. Once you could see it through the dense shrubbery, you went prone and scanned the exterior, Yelena following suit. There was not a single soul in sight, barring the snail that you quietly placed on Lena’s arm without her knowing. Her reaction, which turned out to be more of a mime show due to her needing to stay quiet, was so, so worth it.

You took one final sweep of the outside. “I see no personnel. All clear. You got your gear?”

She slowly turned her head, accompanied with way too much exaggeration, to look at you. “Y/n, I am a world class spy, of course I have all my gear.”

A small smirk crept onto your face as your turned back to face the building. “I’m just saying, one time you forgot your bullets and it wa- “

“That was one goddamn time. Will you ever forget that?”

You muffled your laughter with your arm. The Russian began to angrily grumble again. It was this sort of ease and comradery that allowed you and Yelena to work so well on missions together, why you were almost always paired up. You felt safe with Yelena, the relaxed environment you both created for each other you both to complete missions efficiently, not distracted by unnecessary fear or anxiety.

Just as Yelena resorted to throwing snow at you, you put your hands up in surrender, “alright, alright! I get your point, dumbass.” Thankfully the snow-pelting stopped at your words, “We got a mission to do, let’s get it done; in and out, easy peasy, deal?”

Lena nodded in conformation, holding her fist out for a fist-bump, another must-have for the both of you before any type of mission. “Let’s get this shit done, y/n.”

Entry was easy, both of you sticking together, guns drawn and safeties off. As much as you trusted Steve’s intel, Hydra was literally known for being sneaky bastards. The corridors were easy to clear, but it took you time to get to your destination due to the number of floors and rooms between the your entry point and the console room. It was also interesting to note that the stairwell leading up to the door to the roof was completely blocked off with immovable trashed furniture. It was like Hulk had personally decided all filing cabinets must die. That crossed off one of your exit routes.

Once you reached the console, you held your hand out to Yelena for the for the USB stick.

She looked down at your hand and back up to your face “What?”

“The USB stick, pass it to me.”

“No, I don’t have it, you have it.”

“Uhm, no I don’t ‘Lena.”

“Well, I don’t have it, so you must have it.”

“I literally gave it to you before we left the jet. You have it.”

“I don’t have it! I gave it to you!” She made a comic show of her empty hands.

You blew out a deep sigh, turning your face up to the ceiling. You were wracking your mind for what you should do- go back to the quinjet and come back in or just call it? It was a decent trek there and back, and then your timings would be off. Interrupting your thought, something hit you right in the chest, before clacking against the floor. You didn’t even have to look down at the floor to know what it was.

“Wow, really?”

Yelena gave a quiet chuckle, “yuP,” she replied, popping the ‘p’.

You laughed, shaking your head at her antics, before stooping down to pick up the USB, and plug it into the console.

“Damnit, it’s one of those slow ones. We’ll be here for at least another ten minutes.”

Yelena pouted, before dropping into a squat and playing with her knife. You decided to do a couple laps around the small room. It was simple, the roller chairs covered in a decent amount of dust… except one. It confused you; you certainly hadn’t sat in the chair, and Yelena often refused to sit in chairs, preferring the floor.

“Hey Yelena?” She gave a grunt in response. “Did you touch this chair, sit on it or whatever?”

She glanced up from the cursed-looking smiley face she was carving into the floor to the chair you were gesturing to.

“Uhm no I did not. Why?”

You thought about it, but just shook your head in dismissal. It was probably something about airflow stopping the dust from hitting that particular chair. You were just being stupid. You continued walking around the room, but you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in your stomach. It was then that you noticed a flashing red light, on the side of a security camera in a dark corner of the room. You stopped dead in your tracks. This building was supposed to have been abandoned for a year and a bit, it wasn’t even meant to have power. Why the fuck was a camera still recording.

“Lena- “

Voices from below interrupted your sentence, causing both of you to lock eyes and reach for your guns. You glanced at the download, seeing another 7 minutes to go.

“Defend from stairwell, catch them unawares?”

You nodded in confirmation, silently moving towards your position. The two agents at the head of the 10 strong group didn’t notice you and were taken out quickly, but the other 8 were smart and instantly ducked for cover, throwing smoke bombs. Both you and Yelena emptied out clips but only managed to down another 2 agents, the smoke inhibiting your sight lines.

You ducked to reload. “We can’t leave without that intel; Steve said its critical.”

Your partner took a second to think. “Alright. I heard them radio for back-up, and with this smoke I’m worried about bullets. Be conservative. Plan is still a go. Let’s finish them off, grab the USB, plant the bombs from the console floor down, and then exit out that door on the Northern side.”

You nodded. This is what you and Lena were good at; getting out of sticky situations with all limbs attached. You both had this.

The last 6 agents took longer to take out, given them learning that if they poked their heads above cover, death awaited them.

When the enemy was out for the count, you both sprinted to the console room to find the download completed. You made your way over to the console, before you heard a big thud. You turned on your heel to see Yelena cringing at a dropped bomb on the floor.

“Shit dude, can you not kill us before some self-righteous Hydra dumbass does?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m trying.”

You moved to her side to take some of the bombs out of her hands, not trusting her butter fingers and crossed the room to plant them. You both made your way around the floor, planting the bombs on each of the supporting pillars. The second floor also went down smoothly. You were both on edge because of the previous agents calling for back-up, but you just put your heads down and moved as quickly as possible.

You were halfway through the final floor of bombs when you heard the footsteps of a whole squadron of HYDRA agents making their way right towards your location. With Yelena on your heels, you slid behind a wall for cover. The agents were moving more slowly now that they had entered the building, so you had time to work out your plan of attack.

“I reckon we’ve planted enough bombs; I mean we’ve only got three more pillars to finish. What we’ve done should be strong enough to bring down the building, right?”

“Yeah, I agree. I’m not keen on fighting these fuckers just for insurance, y’know?”

Yelena nodded her head vigorously; you’d both had enough. You checked the pocket you had the USB in just to make sure. You ended up giving yourself a full pat down before coming up with the most creative curses you ever had.

Lena saw you freaking out and quickly asked, “what? What is it, what’s wrong??”

“I fucked up. I don’t have the USB.”

“Ha, ha, y/n, but now is not the time. I wanna get the fuck outta here.”

You stared Yelena dead in the eyes, and slowly shook your head. Her smile dropped, before forming into a small one, “look who’s the one who forgets important shit now, huh?”

You lowered your head and laughed quietly. “If we sprinted, we’ll have time to get the USB and come back down here before those goons have moved more than five metres. Whaddya say, partner?”

She responded with one of her cocky smiles. “Race ya.”

You both easily made it to the console room within 45 seconds (you came through the door first), and grabbed the USB. Lena checked her watch and saw five minutes remaining. You had plenty of time… if nothing else went astray.

“Don’t you dare fucking forget that USB y/n or I swear to god.”

You gave her a mock salute and gave her an exaggerated show of placing it into your front chest pocket, patting it protectively. You both made your way down the staircase, moving as quickly as possible without causing too much noise. Afterall, there were still agents on the first floor, and that was your only exit. You did not want to get caught, not with 2 minutes to go.

The HYDRA agents clearly had a different idea. You were met with the business end of their guns not ten metres from the staircase down to the first floor. There were 12 of them and only two of you. You were royally fucked, and that’s not even considering the low ammo you both had. You had to pick your targets and make them count if you were going to get out of this alive.

Lena shouted over the gunfire, “57 SECONDS Y/N!”

“Fuck! We need to get a move on!”

It was at this very moment, another enemy agent decided to join the fight, this one with an automatic rifle. You were both pinned down, unable to take any shots or make a run for it. You made eye-contact with Yelena and noticed you both were covering behind pillars. The ones with the goddamn bombs on them. You gestured wildly to her, indicating you both to make a run for it. Maybe if you moved positions, you could get a clear shot. You ran to Lena, narrowly missing gunfire, and took her with you around a corner into another small office room.

You and Lena looked at her watch, seeing the countdown at 17 seconds.

“Hey, it’s been one hell of a ride. And who knows, we could survive this. At least Steve can get his stupid intel off my hot as shit body, and we will take these fuckers out with us,” you whispered to Yelena.

She laughed in response, “I bet my favourite knife we make it.”

“You’re on, assh- “.

BOOM.

The explosion made your vision turn black, hell, you were pretty sure you blacked out at some point.

An intense ringing in your ears accompanied you as you came to. In your dazed state, the first thing you noticed was how beautiful the dust floating down to the floor looked, highlighted as it was by the moon.

The next thing you noticed was the huge piece of rebar piercing the right side of your abdomen, along with another piece through your left calf. You dropped your head back to the concrete beneath you, coughing at the dust coating the back of your throat.

It certainly was not as ethereal when you were hacking on it.

You picked your head back up not two seconds later, scanning your surroundings for a head of dirty blonde hair or a khaki-green army surplus vest. You spotted Yelena lying unconscious five or so metres from you. She looked mostly unharmed, with only a deep cut on her forehead.

Your voice was hoarse and weak as you called out, “Lena.”

No response.

You tried again, a little louder this time, but there was no use. She was out cold. You tried to kick a rock in her direction, but pain like you had never felt exploded in your body, radiating from your side and leg.

You didn’t know whether any of the enemy survived the explosion, but judging by the fact that you two had, it was entirely possible. You had to wake your partner up. Rallying your strength, you closed your eyes and reared your uninjured leg back, launching it and the rock forward. A scream wrenched its way out of your throat, and you spots danced in your vision.

You didn’t know whether it was the rock or your scream that did it, but Yelena was slowly sitting upright, cradling her head with one hand. You could see her eyes stare blankly up at the now visible sky, and watched as her facial expression morphed from pain, to confusion and finally into worry. Her head quickly swivelled from side to side until she looked down and made eye-contact with you.

You sighed in relief, and felt your head drop back to the ground with a thump, the strength leaving you quickly. You were getting tired.

Without saying a word, shock written over her face, Yelena stood up and carefully made her way over to you, surveying your situation in the process.

“Bloody finally. You owe me a knife, dipshit.” You laughed, before coughing, some speckles of blood forming on the side of your mouth.

“Yeah, I suppose I do.” Her Russian accent thickening her words.

She lifted your head into her lap, brushing some of the muck from your face.

“I think… I might need some… help getting out of here, Lena.” You were breathless, and wrapping your mouth around whole words was becoming hard.

“Yeah, I pressed our alert button as soon as we were stuck with that second group of agents,” Lena replied, her eyes tracking down your body, before gingerly wiping the blood from the side of your mouth.

There was a rock digging into your leg, the one without rebar, so you tried to shift to find a better position. Excruciating pain ran all the way up your body, causing you to cry out and tears to be brought to your eyes. It was like you had been struck by lightning, the pain so bad you forgot how to breathe. You were stuck gasping, trying desperately to get air into lungs that felt like they had collapsed on themselves.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, don’t move. Just breathe y/n. I need you to breathe, yeah? Focus on me, breathe with me.”

You looked into Lena’s eyes, the eyes you trust so much, and managed to take a deeper breath.

“Hey good job, that’s it y/n, keep doing that. Help will be here soon.”

You kept eye-contact with your best friend, your partner in crime (heroism) and life. She had been by your side, through all the ups and downs, and you had been her first friend when she was freed from the Red Room.

She was your person, was always able to calm you down. It was no wonder then that you felt yourself falling into a quiet bliss in her eyes.

Lena saw your eyes drifting closed, and lightly tapped the side of your face, “hey, I need you to stay awake. When we get you safe and stable on the jet, you can sleep, but right now I need you awake with me, okay?”

You forced your eyes wide open and minutely nodded your head. The pain was getting worse, like a someone was slicing you open and electrocuting the wound over and over.

You suddenly were filled with overwhelming anxiety. What if these were your last moments alive? You had so much to live for; movies to see, food to eat, music to dance to… you didn’t want this to be your end, but you had almost no control over the situation. This realisation only pushed you to become more anxious,

“Yelena.” You whispered, tears forming in your eyes.

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to die Lena, I don’t wanna go just yet.”

Your breathing starting to pick up speed, causing more pain as your chest heaved for oxygen. Everything you did at the moment hurt either physically or mentally. You just wanted it to be over.

Yelena leant down and placed her forehead against yours, “deep breaths for me y/n. I’m here with you, you’re not alone, okay? I’m right here, right with you. You’re strong, you’re going to get out of this alive.” She spoke with such conviction that even in your panicked state, you believed her.

“But if I don’t, if I don’t get out of this, please don’t leave. Stay ‘til the end with me, please,”, you begged. Dying was bad, but dying alone? You didn’t even want to think about it.

Yelena turned her head to the side, trying to hide her own tears. She wasn’t stupid, she knew you were in a critical condition; this could truly go either way. She couldn’t fathom losing you, but she also knew she needed to be able to support you. If she started bawling, you would freak out. You watched as she took a deep breath in order to get control of her emotions.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you with me y/n. I just need you to stay still, stay awake, and keep doing those deep breaths we did earlier. And, if it comes to it, I’m with you the whole time. I’m not moving an inch, you hear me?”

You smiled in gratitude, and attempted to lift your hand to grab hers, but the movement was too painful and your hand flopped pitifully back to the dust covered ground.

Lena quickly grasped your hand in hers, “you’re alright, you’re okay, squeeze me through the pain. I got you, I’m not letting go.”

You both stayed in that position: you squeezing Yelena’s hand whenever an overwhelming wave of pain crashed over you and Yelena comforting you with reassurances. You were starting to see dots in your blurry vision when Yelena’s head shot up. She quickly picked her gun up and aimed it somewhere behind you. Those Hydra agents must have finally woken up. Defeat washed through you but was quickly washed away when Yelena dropped her gun. “Oh, thank fuck. Hurry, siostra, they’re not doing great. We need to get them to Cho ASAP.”

A couple seconds later, a head of red hair found its way into your line of sight. Your vision was so blurry that you couldn’t recognise the face floating in front of you.

“Hang on, Y/n, we’re gonna get you outta here.”

Natasha’s deep voice was much easier to recognise in your delirious state. “Nat! Wha- what’re you doin’ here?” Your words were slurred and quiet.

“I’m getting you out of here.” Her eyes travelled down your maimed body. They couldn’t send dedicated medics out into such a dangerous area, but Natasha was apt in field medicine, and also conveniently able to fight her way out of anywhere if need be. Her hands gently probed around extruding rebar. The pain was unbearable, causing you to black out.

You came back around to Yelena tapping your face, trying to get you to wake up.

“Stay with me y/n. You have got to stay awake, okay? You can’t leave me!” Desperation was crawling into Yelena’s voice, the presence of someone else in control allowing her emotions to finally crawl out of the box she had momentarily locked them into. Tears ran down her cheeks.

You were too weak to say words, so you simply formed a smile, trying to channel all you wanted to say into the expression.

Natasha reached a hand over to grab her sister's hand and leant down to you. “It’s actually okay, y/n. You can close your eyes if you need to. I’m going to inject you with something, it’ll put you to sleep so we can move you.”

You really couldn’t comprehend whatever Natasha was saying to you, but her voice was calming, so you nodded all the same. The small prick you felt in the side of your neck startled you, before an overwhelming calm washed over you, your eyelids dropping closed.

Natasha left and came back with a grinder to cut the rebar pieces, to avoid removing them from your body prematurely. The two sisters made quick work of lifting you onto a gurney and transported you onto the smaller jet Natasha had travelled in. They could retrieve the quinjet at a later date. Yelena refused to let go of your hand the whole time.

[kermittedfelony]

i have been having so much fun rewriting and reposting these fics lol

[kermittedfelony]

wanda maximoff masterlist

TWs at top of each fic, ensure you read these before the fic!

last updated: 14/03/25

ᗢ O N E S H O T S ᗢ

hairline

Summary: Y/n has recently relapsed with self-harm. Their partner, Wanda, is aware and is there to help them with the urges and the aftermath.

[kermittedfelony]

hairline

Summary: Y/n has recently relapsed with self-harm. Their partner, Wanda, is aware and is there to help them with the urges and the aftermath.

TW: self-harm, cursing, mental health themes.

Word count: 2156

Tap, tap, tap.

Your foot, going up down up down up down.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your finger, in rhythm with your foot.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was all you could focus on. Well, all you would allow yourself to focus on at the moment. The movement, the repetitiveness, was a way for your anxiety to (hopefully) leak out of you. Drain from your body and your mind before it got too much and overflowed. If it overflows, your arms, stomach and thighs suffered first.

Your confidence and pride came next.

You found that the line between action and inaction was thin. All it took was the smallest gust of wind, the smallest thought, to push you to either side. Channelling your anxiety into the repetitive movements allowed you to occupy your thoughts, to keep yourself doing something else. Something other than what you really wanted to do.

You honestly couldn’t even pinpoint what led you to this position- you hadn’t received any devastating news, hadn’t made any mistakes. There was nothing.

But there had also been nothing a lot recently. Nothing to push you, challenge you. You were floating, existing. Not living.

And that in of itself made you feel like a waste. You had opportunities people could only dream of, friends of the highest quality, and a partner who loved every aspect of you. The you from 10 years ago could only dream about where you are now.

So why the fuck couldn’t you feel happy with that?

And that thought was the breath of wind your brain needed to rationalise what you were about to do. You launched upwards from your seat on the bathroom floor, hands grappling with your drawer, frantically grabbing the blade you hid. Each slice, red flowed. Each slice, you felt your anxiety leak from the wounds, escaping into the open air.

After you were finished, you felt lighter. Freer. Less burdened. The feeling was unrivalled, nothing compared.

But, as always, your high came to an end.

As the sound of your blood pumping in your ears slowly faded, you became aware of the ‘drip’, as well as the intense throbbing pain. You were left feeling devastated. It had been a 9-month clean streak. 9 fucking months. Down the drain. The blade fell from your weak fingers and clattered into the skin, jerking you out of your negative thoughts.

You numbly cleaned yourself up, not feeling the antiseptic, and curled into a ball under the covers of your bed. You lay there, mourning the loss of your hard work and commitment.

It was sometime later when you felt hands wrapping around you from behind and the soft vanilla scent of your girlfriend, Wanda.

She talked softly into the space, already sensing you weren’t okay, “hey, what’s going on?”

You gave a quiet murmur in response.

“I didn’t quite here that, wanna say it again for me?’

Sobs wrenched their way out of your throat, making Wanda whisper, “oh honey.”

She hugged you tighter before lightly pushing you onto your back so she could properly talk to you.

“What happened my love?”

You closed your eyes and tried to turn your head away from her, but she held your chin in place, her green eyes meeting yours, imploring you to speak. Tears continued to fall down your cheeks as you admitted, “I lost my clean streak.”

It took Wanda a moment to know what you were talking about, but when she understood, she pulled you into her chest and held you as tight as she could.

“Oh detka. Oh, my sweet detka.” She cradled you, slowly rocking, as your tears soaked her shirt.

The knowledge of your failure burdened you heavily, threatening to pull you down, down, down, so you held onto Wanda. You held onto her as tightly as you could, ignoring the pain it flared on your arms. Wanda herself could tell what you needed, the sensation of being anchored, of not floating away. She squeezed you back just as hard.

“I’m here my love, I’m here. You’re not alone in this, and if I have it my way, you never will be. I know it’s hard, I know it feels like you’re never going to win, but you can do this.” She moved to lift your chin, so you were looking into her eyes, “You’re not a failure, you are not a lost cause. You are you; you are human. And I wouldn’t change it, even if I had the whole fucking world begging at my feet. Not only can you do this, but we will do it together, okay?”

You let out a wet chuckle at her enthusiasm and nodded your head. As soon as Wanda got confirmation, she tucked your head back against your chest, gently brushing her fingers through your hair to calm you down. Soon, you felt yourself lulled to sleep, safe and warm in your girlfriend’s arms.

The urges never truly went away. You knew this, had expected it, but goddamn you were hit hard after your confession with Wanda. They were everywhere. Any mistake you made, no matter how small, your brain only came up with one solution:

Just go to the bathroom y/n, you’ll feel so much better

Just one little slice, that’s all you need

Think about how relieving it will feel, you deserve it

Even when you did good, they didn’t let up.

It will never last for long, why not cut and make it end on your own terms

It isn’t even real; you need to cut to bring yourself back to reality

It was never ending. You were stood in the kitchen, these thoughts racing through your head as you stared at your bowl. You were so lost in your mind that you didn’t sense Wanda approaching you, a confused look on her face.

“Maybe I need to morph into a bowl of cereal so that I can get your attention as strongly as it has yours.”

Your head snapped up, “huh? Oh, yeah, maybe,” you forced out a laugh, compelling yourself into motion. You picked up your bowl and threw the contents into the trash; you had poured your cereal and your milk before finding out there wasn’t nearly enough liquid for a bowl.

You went to put your bowl into the dishwasher, but it slipped from your grasp and shattered on the floor. These two minor mistakes were enough to completely override your distress tolerance.

“FUCK. FUCK this.” You bent to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl, standing up abruptly when Wanda knelt to help you- you couldn’t stand anyone touching you at the moment.

In your haste to stand, you almost knocked your head against hers, “hey woah, it’s alright honey, just slow down.”

You were frozen in your spot, your thoughts were screaming so loudly in your brain that you didn’t notice how hard you were gripping one of the ceramic shards you had picked up, the jagged edge cutting deeply into your palm.

Wanda could sense an overwhelming cacophony of noise emanating from you. She wasn’t entering your mind-space, your emotions were just so powerful it was as if you were shouting right in front of her. It was no wonder then that you didn’t have any reaction to her words.

Wanda tried again, adding a dash of her psychic abilities to break through to you, “hey baby, you’re alright. It was a just a mistake, you’re okay.”

Her voice managed to penetrate your thoughts and you flicked your eyes to her face. Wanda smiled, glad she managed to get your attention through the tornado that was your brain. She went to grab your hands, and only then noticed the blood dripping from your hand onto the floor. Wanda quickly grabbed the hand that was bleeding and tried to loosen your bone-white fingers, but you snatched your hand back, not wanting to be touched.

“Y/n, honey, I need you to loosen your hand for me, okay?”

At her words, you yourself looked down at your fist, only just noticing the object stuck in your grip. It was then that your breath decided to return, and you sucked down a deep breath while releasing the vice grip you had on the shard. Wanda gently removed it from your hand and threw it into the bin, before pulling you into a hug.

You weren’t able to hug her back at first, still reeling yourself back to the present. She gently moved her hand up and down your back, trying to calm you down. You felt your muscles slowly release their tension in her arms before the thoughts came rushing back. You jerked back, hitting your back on the kitchen counter. Turning towards the corridor, you hastily made your way back to your room, fully intent on listening to the thoughts.

Wanda, however, had other ideas. She knew what you were thinking, and she was not going to just let you have your way. She rushed after you, her longer legs eating up the distance between you and wrapped you up into a bear hug.

“Y/n, no. You are not going to do that; you are not going to cut again.”

You tried to fight against her grip, words escaping you, but Wanda just held on tighter.

“I said no. You’ve done enough damage, and I don’t think you even meant to do that.”

She didn’t want to become an authoritarian figure in your life, especially not in this regard, lest you begin to resent her. You needed to have your autonomy, but she also couldn’t let you hurt herself.

“How about you give me five minutes, outside in the sun? And if you are still this desperate to do what you want to do, I won’t stop you.”

She only felt confident in giving you this option because she knew impulse control was not your strong suit. If she could force you to wait just a bit longer, the overwhelming urge would lessen enough for you to wrestle back control.

Still, she felt relief when you stopped trying to push her away and let her tug you along, her arm wrapped around your shoulders. Even in your state of mind, you knew deep down that you wanted to accept her help.

She led you out through the balcony doors and sat you down on the deck. Wanda knew that when things got too loud, which they often did for you, the outside was your sanctuary. Whether it was sunny, cloudy or raining, you would sit outside until you felt balanced again.

“I’m just going to run inside to get some bandages for your hand. Stay right here, I’ll be right back.” Wanda dashed inside, leaving you outside.

As it was Autumn, it took a couple of seconds before you felt the heat of the sun on your face. You turned your head upwards, letting the sun wash over you. It was refreshing, and you felt its warmth pierce all the way into your heart.

True to her word, Wanda returned within a couple of minutes. She expertly cleaned the gash before placing gauze on top and securing it with a bandage.

“How’s the sun treating you?”

With words still out of reach, you only managed a slight nod. You felt your shoulders slowly loose tension, and leant against Wanda’s side, your head falling on her shoulder. She took your uninjured hand into her own, her thumb tracing circles along the back.

Wanda had never been a witness to your self-destructive behaviour first-hand, only ever in the aftermath. She was worried for you and needed to understand what had transpired.

“What triggered you?”

Some time passed before you finally managed to croak out, “I thought there was more milk but there wasn’t, so I had to throw out my cereal. I just, everything was telling me to just get my blade, even though it was such a stupid mistake. It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”

“I hear you detka, I understand. It’s like your brain amplifies everything, making it overwhelmingly large and impossible to handle. I get it.”

It always amazed you just how good to be heard. So good that you were unable to articulate the gratitude you felt for your girlfriend. Instead, you tried to push the emotion outwards, towards her.

Wanda squeezed your hand in response, sensing your feelings wash over her. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at your girlfriend, seeing her face also upturned towards the sun and her eyes closed. Her skin was glowing in the warm light, and she truly looked ethereal. She felt you staring and dropped her gaze from the sky to your eyes.

“You’re okay, darling, you’re alright. We will get through this together. I won’t let you do this alone.”

You nodded your head, before closing your eyes again and letting your body and mind rest.

[kermittedfelony]

natasha romanoff masterlist

TWs at top of each fic. pls read them before diving in <3

last updated: 13/03/25

ⴵ S E R I E S ⴵ

a little leading to alot

Summary: reader has suffered from depression for many years and has progressed and been able to cope with their symptoms better. Recently however the reader has entered a slow downward spiral.

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4

interim

Summary: Nat goes away on a long mission; the reader rapidly deteriorates

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4

ⴵ O N E S H O T S ⴵ

safe

summary: nat makes you feel safe in the wake of difficult circumstances.

[kermittedfelony]

interim

C H A P T E R 4

TW: panic attacks, bad mental health, struggles with eating, self-harm, coarse language

Final chapter!

Word Count:  2320

“When did you start harming yourself again?”

Silence enveloped the room. You turned to face Wanda, sitting ramrod straight, every muscle instantly tense, your shock written across your face.

“Excuse me?”

Wanda sighed, “please y/n, don’t block me out. I want to help you, and I can only do that if I know what’s going on. I’m not disappointed or angry or disgusted. I truly just want to be there for you. I can’t stand by doing nothing while I know my best friend is in pain.”

“I don’t need your help Wanda, because I’m not doing that anymore. I’m clean.”

Wanda implored you, “please don’t lie to me y/n, I’m not an idiot. I know your habits, how you tend to cope if things get really bad. I’ve noticed that every time you sit down, you wince. So please don’t deny it. Just tell me how I can help-“

You started to get defensive, agitation coming to the forefront of your mind, “I told you Wanda, I don’t want your fucking help.” You stood up from the couch and put distance between the two of you; you were starting to feel claustrophobic. You were angry with Wanda for putting this on you, for sticking her nose in your business, especially after something as exhausted as a panic attack.

You knew Wanda had good intentions, but you could barely admit to yourself that you had lost your clean streak, so talking about it with another person was abhorrent. It would be admitting to yourself and to others that you were weak, that you gave up.

“Y/n, I can’t- I won’t just stand by as you hurt yourself like this. Don’t block me out, please!”

Wanda used the only thing she knew would get you to stop and listen, “what would Nat think if she came back to you like this? She would want you to get help, get support-“

“Don’t you fucking dare bring her into this! Don’t you even think about it.”

“I’m just trying to help-”

With finality, you said, “no. No. We’re done here.” You stalked off to your room, slamming the door behind you and ordering F.R.I.D.A.Y to lock it. Within seconds you heard Wanda knocking, begging you to not shut her out. As you heard her pleas, you curled into a ball on your bed, desperately trying to block out her voice. You knew you should have listened to Wanda, should have leant onto her offered shoulder, but you couldn’t bring yourself to that level of vulnerability. If you let her help you, it would mean accepting that you needed help, that you were lying all those times you assured her you were fine. The shame that that would bring you was too much to bear.

So, instead, you entered the bathroom you shared with Nat. You switched on the shower, letting it heat up. As you waited, you stared at yourself in the mirror. The person that looked back at you was haggard. Drained. You looked down, unable to hold eye contact with the person in the reflection. The small break allowed you to reflect on your words to Wanda, and regret flooded you. But you stood by your decision. You didn’t want her help, and she shouldn’t have pushed you in the way she did.

The way that she did? She was just trying to be there for you. You were the one who shut her out.

No, she needed to mind her own business; you weren’t some weak, needy thing to be managed.

Your thoughts warred with each other, but you also knew she would be worrying herself to death, and both parts of you agreed that was unacceptable. You wouldn’t be the source of more of her pain. So, you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to let her know you were okay, that you just needed time to yourself.

With steam sufficiently floating out from the shower, you stepped into the sanctuary that was the stream from the shower head and the familiarity of the small metal blade fitting between your fingertips.

Over the next few days, you began to lose track of how long Nat had been away, and how long until her return. Previously, it was all you could think about; whether she was safe, if she was okay, when she was coming back. Now, your brain was a void, only processing the most basic needs: hunger, thirst, and a desperation to avoid everything else.

Wanda left food for you, often waiting outside your door, quiet as a mouse, in the hope that you would open it and talk to her. You never did, always listening for her fading footsteps before you even considered opening the door. You took small bites, but the need to eat was weak enough that your shirts were beginning to hang off your frame.

Alcohol soon overtook self-harm as your main coping mechanism. It allowed you to sleep away the hours of the day and lightened your load enough that when you were awake, life was somewhat bearable. As long as you had the background noise of the television playing. Anything to distract you from your reality.

In between drinking, harming and bingeing tv, it was all you could do to simply lie down and cry. When you weren’t crying, your desolate eyes were staring, unblinking, at the blank space of your wall. All of your emotions were overridden by the notion that you were so, so alone. There were people in the rooms next to you, Wanda especially begging for you to come out and talk to her, but still, you were isolated. And the worst part? It was all your own fault. You were the one who shut Wanda out, who didn’t even think about talking to other members of your team. No matter how many internal struggles you had, you couldn’t bring yourself to go back on the narrative you had created. The one that said you did not need help. You were stuck. Completely and utterly glued to the spot, unable to speak or break out.

Day in and day out, it was the same. Over and over again. Nothing changed, nothing differed. Your other teammates soon began to knock on your door, asking if you were okay as they hadn’t seen you in a while. Steve, Bucky, Clint. You turned them all away, asking for privacy. They didn’t dare intrude, and left you to yourself, leaving well-wishes as they departed.

What you didn’t know was that Nat had finished her mission earlier than expected. She was on her way back in the Quinjet, only a few hours from touchdown. She didn’t contact the team about her early arrival as she wanted to surprise you. She even bought flowers. If she had called ahead, you probably wouldn’t have been drinking, instead trying to put on a brave face and make her believe that you were okay. But you didn’t know, and so another shot of rum burnt its way down your throat, into the pit of your empty stomach. You switched on some old cartoon and prepared yourself to drone out real life.

Wanda caught up with Nat just as she entered the elevator.

“Nat! You’re back! I thought it would be another couple of weeks?”

Nat gave Wanda a big smile and a hug, “Yeah, I guess I’m just too good at my job.”

Both women laughed at the joke, but Wanda’s smile faded much too soon, catching Nat’s eye. The Sokovian began to fidget with her fingers, convincing Nat that something was wrong, “Wanda, what is it?”

Wanda glanced up at Nat, unsure of how to tell the older woman, “I uh- It’s y/n.”

At her partner’s name, Nat straightened instantly, all joking manner gone. “What’s happened? Are they okay? Where are they?”

“They’re in your room, but they’re not doing well Nat. I don’t know how it happened and I think it would be best if you just saw for yourself instead of me explaining, but they need you. I tried everything I could but- well, it didn’t work.”

Nat sighed and covered her face with her hands. She’d had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach the whole time she was away, and the communication ban only made it worse. It was partly how she was able to finish the mission so soon; the desperate need to get back home to you pushing her harder every step of the way.

The ding of the elevator arriving pulled Nat out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and stepped out. “Thanks for letting me know, Wands. And for doing what you could.” Wanda replied with a simple nod, and as the elevator doors closed on the Sokovian, Nat turned to make her way to your shared room. When she came face to face with your door, she truly didn’t know how to enter. Usually, it was a simple knock and then entering without waiting for a response, but given she had no idea what state you were in, using caution was the best bet.

In your drunken daze, you heard 3 faint knocks and someone calling your name.

You were really not in the mood to try and make Wanda believe you were okay, so you slurred back, “Leave me alone. I don’t wanna talk to you Wanda.”

You weren’t facing the door, so you didn’t see it open or the redhead that walked through it. You felt the bed dip and turned around so that you could reiterate your words but were met with emerald eyes that only belonged to one person. Your person.

“N-Nat?”

“Hi, my love.”

You blinked a couple times, confusion written all over your face, “Is that really you? Are you really here?”

“Yes, detka. I came back early.” When it was clear you were at a loss for words, Nat placed the bouquet on the nightstand and brushed some of the hair out of your face, “You’re not doing too well, huh?”

You opened and closed your mouth, trying to find something to say. You were so desperate for support and comfort, but you were also so scared. Nat hadn’t ever seen you this desolate, this depressed. You were fearful of what she would think, of how she would react. You always knew you could get a general sense of what someone’s true intentions were through their eye. You tilted your head up and looked into two swirling pools of green and saw only love. Love, hope and the slightest hint of fear. She was scared and worried for you.

You decided then and there that you would allow yourself to open up, to be completely vulnerable in front of the one person who would open themselves up alongside you. You wouldn’t be alone.

You dropped your gaze and shook your head, sobs beginning to wrack your body. Natasha knew you had just crossed a line in your mind in allowing her to see you like this. She quickly jumped into action, taking her shoes off and getting into bed behind you. She gently cradled you, both arms wrapping around your shaking frame. She held you tightly, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, calming you down.

“You’re okay, my love. I’m here, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Let yourself drift off to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you, with all my heart.”

You were warm, comfortable, and wrapped in Nat’s strong, stable arms. You knew she wasn’t going to let you go. “I love you too Nat.”

She squeezed you tightly in response.

As you drifted off to sleep, she looked around the dim room, noticing the half empty bottle on the nightstand, and other empty bottles near the bin in your room. The heavy scent of alcohol cloaking your skin. She had never seen you like this; never seen you turn to alcohol to cope. She began to wonder what she would have come back to if she hadn’t expedited the mission.

If there would have been anything for her to come back to.

Freaking herself out over the what ifs wouldn’t do either of any good. So instead, she squeezed you tighter, reminding herself that you were still there, still with her.

The day after, you pushed through the embarrassment you felt and told Nat as much as you were willing about what happened. It was like she was the only one who knew the code to unlock everything you had kept inside.

You spoke of how you coped. Your regrets and shame due to how you treated Wanda. She sat with you the whole time, asking questions whenever she needed more clarification. The most impactful part was that she didn’t judge you, not for a single part. She just listened to you speak, offering reassurances and encouragement, or hugs when you got to a particularly difficult part.

She helped you find a therapist that worked for you and did your coping strategies alongside you, until you could do them yourself. She even helped you discover a few.

You spent a good couple of days opening up to Wanda, letting her into your little circle of vulnerability and trust. Vulnerability that soon turned into strength, as she reminded you of each of your successes, and comforted you when you took a few steps backward.

Through their support, you slowly earned back your independence and stability, starting on missions again when you felt confident in yourself.

All of it was your decision, your choice. Neither Nat nor Wanda forced you into anything, only encouraging you when you needed it or opening their arms for you to fall into when something didn’t work out.

Your recovery was long, hard and never-ending. But the two women at your side made everything worth it, and you will never forget how grateful you are for their existence.

a/n>>>>>>> and there u have it!!! I hope y’all enjoyed!

Luv from Kermy <3