Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Every morning is the same: you wake; you run; you breathe.

Your tired, heavy eyes snap open, rapidly scanning your surroundings to remind yourself of where you are. Wake. Sneaking away from the suddenly overheated body in your shared bed, you stumble through the tight caravan and burst out the creaky door, running towards the sun as it lifts itself off the horizon. Run. Reaching the top of the icy mountain you’ve come to discover might very well be your only place of tranquillity, you take in the longest, deepest breath of cold air you can until your lungs have no space left. Breathe.

Your eyes snap open, pushing the body off of you. You don’t have time to make a cup of coffee as you dart out the door, quickly progressing from a light jog into a fast sprint. You reach tranquillity with a heaving chest. You wake. You run. You breathe.

Your eyes open slowly, lazily sliding off the bed. Sometimes you don’t bother putting on shoes, you just step out, walk and progress into a run; you’ll heal from the cuts anyway. Reaching the top of the mountain, bloodied feet turning the white snow a deep red, you drop onto the ground with a sigh that’s no longer content. Wake. Run. Breathe.

It’s only a few weeks into your routine when you realise you don’t need to run anymore; you don’t need the brutal, harsh cold to make you feel something, not when you have her resting her body, her heart, her soul on you. Not when you can shut off every sense apart from sound to focus on the gentle beating of her heart as she sleeps, the soft breaths escaping from her slightly open lips as she dreams, the gentle sighs she makes when she slowly awakens from her deep slumber with eyelids fluttering like the flicker of green is teasing you. When she opens her gentle eyes, she’s almost always relieved to see her dreams are still reality; you’re still here with your muscled arms wrapped protectively around her, with your soft eyes filled with love and adoration admiring your sleeping beauty. Your place of tranquillity. You just happen to be her place too.

You wonder if this is how Mark Antony felt each time he gazed at Cleopatra with an ache in his chest like he knew the tragedy they were fated to live out; if Paris felt like nothing of this world could ever match the beauty of Helen as he vowed to go to war just to have her; if Shah Jahan hired over 20,000 artisans to build the Taj Mahal with precise, complex architecture to measure his love for his lost love, yet not a single structure was as precisely sculpted as his lover was for him. You wonder…you wonder if every single thought in your head, every single breath you take, every single day you live will always be for her. Is this your purpose? Is she your purpose?

“You’re thinking too loud.” She whispers in a hoarse voice, sighing contentedly as she presses her cold cheek to your naked chest. You’ll be her warmth in this cold, wrapping your limbs around her, your arms like wings protecting her from anything that means her harm.

“Do you know the story of the Taj Mahal?” You ask as your fingers gently stroke up and down her back. She probably does know it, but she still shakes her head, nose brushing against your skin; she just wants to hear you speak.

“Do tell.” She mumbles, leaving a lazy kiss on your skin. With a deep inhale of lavender, you hum and clear your throat, beginning the story.

“Shah Jahan, the 5th emperor of the Mughal Empire, first laid his eyes on her in 1607, wandering through Meena Bazaar. She was selling silk, beads, and was 15. He was only 14, yet he knew what love was the moment he saw her.” Nat hums at that, leaving another soft kiss on your chest. “He told his father he will marry her one day, and five years later, he did. He only became Emperor in 1628, but one of the first things he did was give her a title. Her name is Arjumand Banu Begum, but he declared everyone to call her Mumtaz Mahal. Jewel of the Palace. They went on adventures together, travelling around India; he even took her on his military campaigns.” Nat hums again, letting you know she’s still listening. You let out a soft sigh before your next words. “But when she died giving birth to their 14th child, a piece of him died with her. On her deathbed, he promised her that he would never marry another; she was his soulmate. Some say he ordered the court to mourn for two years after her death. I mean, she was the Jewel of the Palace after all. When he came out of mourning - although I don’t think he ever really stopped - he started his plans to build the greatest monument he could to represent his undying love for her. They may both end up as bones in the dirt, but at least their love will forever be written within those stones. It took 22 years to build it. And once he was done, he wanted to build another but coloured black for himself. Black to represent his mourning, his terrible grief, the pain he feels having to live without her. But it would have used up too much of his treasury, so his son deposed him and became the next Emperor. But there was no fight from his end. He spent his life gazing over the Taj Mahal from his room without talking to a single person like he was gazing at her. It’s said that when he was on his deathbed, he had a mirror in front of him so he could watch the Taj Mahal as he died. They were buried next to each other. Undying love.” You conclude, mumbling the last phrase to yourself. Undying. Well, an everlasting monument that around 8 million people travel to in a year is definitely undying. But not everyone is an emperor with a treasury filled with wealth. What could you do to portray your love?

“14 children?” Natasha finally speaks up in an astonished tone, open-mouthed as she sits up on her elbow a little. You raise a brow at her, scoffing slightly at her reaction. You’re only half-joking, amusedly admiring the dumbfounded look on her face.

“That’s your take?” You question with a chuckle as she shuffles to sit up on both elbows. Your eyes drift to her long red locks, gently swooshing from side to side. The duvet miraculously stays stubbornly over her chest; you almost pout angrily, scolding the sheets for denying you that sight.

“But...14?! Seriously?” Natasha exclaims, letting out a breathy laugh of disbelief. To be fair to her, it is an unusually large number of kids. But for its time, it’s not as abnormal as it is now. A soft smile etches onto your face as you reach out a hand, fingers brushing over her sharp jawline.

“Baby, it was the 17th century.” You sweetly explain as she leans her face into your touch. She puts all her weight onto your hand, tiredly closing her eyes as your thumb brushes over her plump lips. Just as you lean in, she pulls back, dropping her head onto the pillow with a pondering sigh.

“Did men love their wives simply because they looked pretty and gave them heirs?” She questions, not necessarily asking you but thinking about how much the world has changed. You sigh as you mirror her position, stretching your arms behind your head.

“I’m sure it was deeper than that. Love is not simple, and it never has been. It’s deep, irrational, and chaotic. People go to war over love, kill and die and-” You reply, providing something of an answer for her question. But she interrupts you quickly, almost curiously. You’ve lived a longer life than her, so she knows your mind and views can border traditional at times. Nat’s never looking for an argument but instead, you’ve noticed she says certain things to try to persuade you to...reform some of your viewpoints. You don’t mind it, but there are things you like about yourself that you don’t necessarily think need to change.

“But none of that is good, is it?” Nat challenges in a gentle tone, careful not to push too hard.

“I-I suppose not. But that’s not the point.” You argue back, standing your ground. It’s romantic. How is it not romantic to kill for someone? Die for someone? Dedicate your entire life to them? Humanity has romanticised life itself, living until old age, until you can barely even move. That, on paper, sounds like hell, yet humans think life has meaning, has worth. Therefore, choosing to end your life for someone else has to be insanely romantic. Really up there on the scales. How can Natasha think otherwise?

“Then what is the point? If you really love someone, why make them go through that pain of having 14 kids? Kill other people in their name, putting those deaths in the hands of the person you love?” Natasha interposes, putting her argument forward. Now that you think about it, she might have a point. Logically, it doesn’t look like love. On paper. But love is not logical. What’s more impulsive than killing someone? Killing someone for love.

“I-I don’t know.” You whisper, stunned a little. But your voice drops even lower in volume as you turn your head to face her. Scanning every feature that you’ve already memorised by now, you gulp as you confess to her. “I’d die for you. Kill for you.” You declare, staring up into her eyes with nothing but vulnerability. You’ve slowly been bearing your soul to her day by day, but no matter what, each time the fear doesn’t go away. Fear of rejection, fear that you’ll scare her away, that she’ll change her mind. Fear that you’ll lose her. She does exactly that, clearing her throat as she sits up. The sheets drop but your eyes don’t leave her face after hearing her reply.

“You technically would have if Meyer went through with it.” She remarks ambivalently. It’s hard to tell if she’s being serious or not, but it’s been months since then and the two of you still haven’t talked about it. Any of it. It’s been tense at times but you’ve been waiting for her to bring it up; you can’t risk her running off if you say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

She’s not wrong when you think about it. What Meyer revealed before you…well, it certainly rocked the boat. It came as a shock; you didn’t suspect her plan would be to kill the person you chose. They all saw you step towards Wanda. It was a subtle step, impulse, your body moving free of your mind. But Wanda saw it, Meyer saw it, Natasha saw it. It’s a funny play on words, you’ll give Natasha that - Wanda would have died based on your decision, essentially saving Natasha, essentially meaning you killed for her. But whether or not she meant it as a joke is beyond you right now.

“Nat-” You begin, but she interrupts, abruptly climbing off the bed to stretch her sore muscles.

“I’m kidding. It’s a joke.” She teases, looking over her shoulder with a small smirk. Right. So, this definitely isn’t your opportunity to talk about it. How would you even go about that? Have you left it so long that there’s no point in even talking about it anymore? It’ll just open up old wounds and no one wants that.

“Right, yeah.” You murmur, clearing your throat as you sit up. As you glance over her body, you think about how her skin is your canvas. Her back is scattered with healing hickeys, scratches from your nails - evidence of your intense passion for her. She knows you love her, even though you still haven’t said it to her. And you know she loves you. But there’s always some level of tension when silence falls over the two of you. Which is why you escape for a run and Nat leaves to buy unneeded groceries. It’s a routine both of you have slowly become comfortable with.

“Where do you go every morning?” Natasha suddenly breaks the silence, pouring herself a cup of steaming hot coffee into her plain white mug. You picked a green one for her but she didn’t like the shade, so now it’s yours. She pours you a cup too; she leaves it black with one sugar, just how you like it. Sometimes Natasha likes sneaking a little cinnamon syrup that she’s become addicted to, but it’s a little too sweet for your tastes. You grew up on black coffee that borders the taste of dirt when you’re thrown face first into the ground during a fight.

“Run. Why?” You respond, thanking her with a soft smile when she passes the hot mug to you. Holding it tightly in your hands, you close your eyes for a moment, relishing in the warmth. Your isolated home surrounded by mountains may give you stunning views, but the cold is definitely a con. Pro: Natasha keeps you warm.

“When you come back home, you’re always freezing.” She complains, sipping on her coffee but wincing when it burns her tongue. You snort at that, earning a playful glare from her. You ignore the way your heart speeds just a little at Natasha calling this ‘home’.

“I usually run to the top of this one mountain. It’s icy.” You explain, leaning back against the wooden wall behind the bed. It’s small, cramped and stuffy, but it’s pretty good for two Avengers on the run. Something you’ve always carried with you is gratefulness for anything you can get; whatever misfortunes you have, there will always be someone out there that has it worse. Your mind drifts to Wanda, wondering if she has it worse than you right now, but you push that thought away as soon as you realise what you’re thinking about. You have your happy ending right here and you shouldn’t care about hers, not when she lied and manipulated you.

“Show me?” Nat asks with a hopeful expression. A smirk makes its way to your lips as you carefully place your mug on the bedside table.

“Will you get up at six in the morning to get hypothermia?” You tease with a raised brow, leaning up to rest on your elbows. Natasha is anything but playful when she struts to the bed, placing her mug next to yours. Her expression is serious, borderline seductive; a ball forms in your throat and you can’t find it in you to swallow right now.

“For you.” Nat whispers, letting her kimono fall of her body. The silk slides down with ease, caressing her skin as it begrudgingly says goodbye; your eyes can’t control themselves as they admire her pale, naked skin, taking every inch of her in, too scared to blink and miss a second of her.

“How romantic.” You mumble, a little distracted when she climbs on top of you, straddling your waist. She doesn’t kiss you though, or even tease you; Natasha simply leans her body forward, pressing herself against your skin to keep herself warm. Or just to feel you. Either way, you’re not complaining as you wrap your arms tightly around her, pulling her deeper into you.

“Tomorrow morning. Wake me up.” She mumbles against your neck with a sigh, using your body as a heater. She gets cold and you get hot, but this place is too cold, even for you. But you’ll go wherever she wants to go. Plus, your options are very limited right now; Ross has jurisdiction almost everywhere.

“Sure, darling. Hey, if you’re joining me, can I get groceries with you?” You ask her in a hesitant tone. One thing Natasha loves is her alone time, and shopping seems to be that for her. Intruding and making her feel suffocated is the last thing you want to do. But she moves her head up, resting her chin on your chest to put on a teasing expression.

“Baby, the reason I go alone is because if I bring you, you’ll fill our little home with junk food.” Our home. She whispers, giggling when you roll your eyes at her in fake annoyance. Your hands naturally run up and down her spine and practically purrs under your touch.

“Better than rabbit food.” You mumble but she hears anyway and gasps playfully. A smile stretches out across your lips at the playful look in her eyes. But that smile turns into a smirk when those light greens turn a shade darker, a shade you know too well. Not well enough, could never know them well enough. You’d be content spending the rest of your lifetime getting to know every single spec in her eyes.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Do I not keep you full? Satisfied?” Natasha teases, voice turning seductive as she slowly sits up, straddling your waist. Your eyes immediately fall to her full breasts, hands sliding up and down her hips. “Are you starved, baby?” Natasha sultrily whispers, letting out a soft gasp when your thumbs brush the underside of her chest. Her back arches at your touch like it always does, as if every time you touch her is the first.

“Mhm. I’m starving. Think I need to eat.” You playfully growl, sitting up and wrapping your arms around her. Her giggles flow into your ears like birds tweeting happily into the morning sun. She tangles her fingers with your locks as you leave wet kisses along her neck and lower, and lower, and lower until she’s writhing and trembling under you. How could you ever get tired of this?

Just because you’ve found your happy ending with Natasha doesn’t mean every single day is a good one. You still wake up in a sweat some nights - more nights than you wish to admit - even with Natasha by your side, or on top of you. She likes sleeping as close to you as possible, clinging on like she’s terrified you’ll disappear when she wakes up. The first time you went for a run while she was still asleep, you came back home to her curled up into a ball looking impossibly small. She looked up at you with glossy eyes that turned from broken, to hopeful, to relieved. Pulling her into your arms and whispering reassuring words helped a little, but it never loosened her grip at night.

You still wake up in a sweat sometimes, haunted by your night terrors. It was worse when you first moved out here. Meyer was still fresh in your mind and it was hard for you to come to terms with what you had done. Natasha says she deserved it, and that you lost control, but maybe you didn’t. Maybe Meyer was the one in control, maybe she wanted you to do just that but does that mean she was controlling your mind or did she simply manipulate you? If that’s the case, then you done-you killed her, with your own free will. You’ve overthought it to the point of anxiety attacks and cold showers in the middle of the night. Because if you did what she wanted you to do, then the question moves to why? Why would she want you to kill her? What did she achieve other than death and leaving you with a muddled, guilty, confused mind? Is that really worth dying for?

Sometimes Natasha’s the one who sits up screaming, yelling, even hitting you away when it’s a particularly bad one. As much as you two help each other, an internal battle is called internal for a reason. With a heated body and a racing heart you had no choice but to try to cool down, and finding your little spot was your solution. Bringing Natasha here should feel like some sort of invasion of your space. It should bring you discomfort - annoyance even - at the fact that now you have to find a new spot if you ever need a moment alone where no one could find you. But Natasha isn’t just anyone. She’s the love of your life. That’s the only thing your muddled mind is sure about.

With a content sigh as you glance over the horizon, you drop down to sit on the freezing snow. Natasha opts to stand, already shivering from the cold. Her body isn’t enhanced, so it makes sense, but what doesn’t make sense is when she plops down after a moment, sitting right next to you with clattering teeth.

“It’s cold.” You state confusedly. With scrunched brows, you turn to face her, scanning her features. The tip of her nose blushes bright red from the cold as she trembles slightly. But her lips still stretch into a soft smile as she hugs her arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees as she watches you contentedly.

“But you keep me warm.” She explains in a soft tone. You can easily infer the deeper meaning behind that because she’s not even touching you right now. You can’t help sighing in slight guilt at that because you know you don’t deserve her love, especially after what you did in the basement. “I get it.” She speaks up after watching your expression change as you think, the sunlight shining on your face as it rises.

“Hmm?” You turn back to her, pulled out of your thoughts.

“You need to feel something. Even pain works. It works best, actually.” Natasha accurately infers, eyes still on you like you’re the view. She ignores the huge mountains ahead, the pale white snow contrasting beautifully against the dark rocks. The sun demands attention as it rises, but Natasha gives it none. Her attention is all on you and the content smile on your face. With a happy sigh, you quickly reach over to Natasha before she can complain, pulling her into your lap. Wrapping yourself around her, you let out a sigh matching hers as your body warms her up a little.

“Thank you.” You speak up in a whisper after a moment of silence. It doesn’t need elaboration or an explanation; she already knows why you’re thankful. You’ll always be thankful and you’ll spend the rest of your life making sure she knows just how much her sacrifice means to you. She didn’t need to come with you, but she did. She’ll always pick you. And from now on, you’ll always pick her.

By the time you make your way back, hand in hand, you spot the caravan door slightly ajar from the distance. Instinctively, you push Natasha behind you, freezing in your spot to prevent making any noise that could alert the intruder. Your heart pulses so hard you can hear it in your ears. This is the last thing you need - someone to come and ruin your little isolated place of happiness with Natasha.

Turning to face her, you motion for her to stay here as you go investigate, giving a stern look when you notice the look of protest with her quirked brow. Thankfully, she listens to you for once. Using your super-hearing, you can’t sense any movement in the caravan which is unusual for someone breaking in. With a frown, you sneak your way to the door, avoiding being seen through the windows. Pushing the door open, you curse under your breath as it creaks loudly. Just your fucking luck.

Looking around cautiously as you scan your surroundings, already on edge, you let out a huff as you turn to the small bedroom section of the caravan. You see him sprawled on the bed fast asleep and can’t help but roll your eyes, turning your back to him as your body visibly relaxes. The beating in your heart calms as the rushing in your ears slowly disappears. Hearing Natasha’s footsteps outside, you make your way back to the door with a clenched jaw, frustration and annoyance clear all over your face.

“He’s sleeping in our bed now?” You huff annoyedly, walking out after grabbing a folded chair to sit outside. Perhaps your movements are a little too aggressive, but she pays it no mind. Natasha only tilts her head confusedly as she walks into your shared caravan, taking cautious steps.

You hear them talking, laughing, teasing each other, but you force yourself to turn off your enhanced hearing to tune them out. You have nothing against the guy. He’s a nice man, a good friend to Natasha - although you think he’s more of a supplier than anything else - and he hasn’t sold either of you out to Ross yet. Yet being the keyword. Of course, it’s natural for you to be cautious, and it does annoy Natasha a little, but you’re finally happy. You were on edge to begin with but you’ve just settled down with Natasha, finally accepting that there is no danger, no fight, no war. Just...just waking, running, and breathing. And a lot of sex. The last thing you want is someone or something to ruin that for you, and he provides that threat simply by knowing where the two of you are. People have agendas. And agendas change. How do you know his won’t?

Perhaps yours did too. This feels an awful lot like retirement, so are you really actively on the run at this point? Because that implies the run stops at some point meaning you have to run back. Sure, Natasha watches the news, looking out for anything about Steve or anyone else on the team that may need help. By the time she’s done just thinking about helping out when she sees a crisis, it’s miraculously solved and there’s no doubt the small team Steve has assembled are the ones behind it. But they always remain undetected, unspotted, already gone by the time the cameras show up. Ross is usually the only one spotted on the cameras, clearly fuming as he yells at his inferiors for being incompetent.

Slowly but surely, Natasha stopped. She stopped searching. Searching for what you thought was an excuse for her to run too. She fell into a routine with you, fell into you, into bed, into the mountains, into this small life that is somehow enough for her. It’s still hard to believe that you are enough for someone with a beautiful heart like Natasha’s, and you still have your moments of doubt that you express in the wrong ways - usually with the silent treatment or using a tree as a punching bag in the distance - but Natasha understood. She always did and she always will understand you, making sure she seeks you out and soothes you with kisses, with her touch, overwhelming your senses so all you can focus on is her. Everything you bottle up comes out the moment you look into her eyes, feeling nothing but her warm body against yours and her nails digging into the skin on the back of your neck sharp enough to pierce anyone without your healing abilities. But for you, they only provide a numbness, bordering euphoria.

“Catch you later, Y/N.” Rick shoots you a wide smile as he walks backwards. You give him a tight smile in response, twirling a long piece of grass you plucked off the ground earlier. Everything is absolutely fine, despite the way his tone borders on flirty every time he’s talking to your...to Natasha. Now that you think about it, you two haven’t even labelled anything. But do you even need to? When you’re in isolation, you don’t have to follow the rules and standards of society, and society created the need for labelling love. You and Natasha know what you have in your hearts and that’s all that matters. Right? You don’t need to call her your girlfriend in front of him. Despite how much you want to.

“Oh, hey! What’s all this junk?” Natasha calls out as she kicks the box by the door. Rick turns around to face her and you turn to face the box with a tilted head and curious brow.

“Oh, just some mail and personals from the Budapest safe house.” He responds and you roll your eyes at his pronunciation.

“Budapest?” Natasha says it correctly, earning a smile from you.

“Yeah, Budapest.” He says it wrong again and you tune them out again as she corrects him with a soft smile on her face. Your eyes stay on the box filled with letters and a particularly mysterious black box. But clearly it doesn’t interest Natasha who suggests Rick should have thrown it away.

“Well, if you don’t want it, throw it in the rubbish.” Rick smirks, walking off, ending the conversation. Natasha simply sighs and dumps the box into the trunk of your car, but your eyes are only focused on a different type of trunk. Those jeans look insanely good on her, hugging her figure perfectly. Natasha walks back, swaying her hips with a smirk when she notices where you were looking. It’s easy to read her at this point, so you already know she’s in a playful mood by the glint in her eyes.

“Hi.” You mutter as she plops down on your lap, resting her arm over your shoulder. Looking up into her eyes with a soft smile, still a little distracted, you lean in with intent. But Natasha has other plans. She tilts back with a tut, her tongue poking out to wet her lips, drawing your attention there. Tease.

“You know, I don’t have many friends outside our...Avengers.” She was going to say family but she had to stop herself. “I’d like it if you could get along with the one I do have.” Her voice turns from playful to a hint of seriousness, but you can’t take anything seriously right now with a mind clouded by the heat on your lap. Grinding your hips up ‘accidentally’ - wink, wink - as you adjust on the chair, you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her hips, pulling her into you. One of your favourite things to do is bury your face into her - any part will do. Her neck is practically always calling out to you, long and pale and almost always littered with your marks. But today’s a rare day where you have a fresh canvas, mainly because her inner thighs are currently the body parts that have been painted with your lips.

“We get along.” You murmur, humming as you come to an internal agreement; today, your nose rubs over her shirt tightly covering her chest. This may be your favourite. She is your favourite.

“Really?” Natasha snorts at your antics, but you can sense her smile. It brings a mirrored one onto your face, stretching your lips impossibly wide against her shirt.

“We’re friendly.” You argue into her chest like you’re talking to them, smiling even wider when she lets out a soft laugh.

“No, you’re civil. There’s a difference.” She gently explains as she sifts her hand through your locks. They're a little knotty but your strands turn into silk whenever she touches them. Magical hands are what you call them.

“Babe, you know how I am with this stuff. I’m just cautious.” You groan as she tugs on your hair, pulling your face away so she can look at you. But the groan gets swallowed and dear God you almost choke on it. Fuck...that shade in her eyes, the plumpness of her soft lips, the light pink tinting her cheeks. You’re not sure if it’s the cold or the look you’re giving her that’s making her blush.

“I know, but I’ve known him for years. Before I even knew you.” She reasons and you know you’re being unreasonable, especially when you don’t let yourself think before spewing out your next words.

“And you’ve never…” Your words trail on, refusing to speak your thoughts out loud. But Natasha understands, raising a surprised brow.

“Never.” She giggles softly, lightly pressing her nose to yours in reassurance. But she suddenly narrows her eyes, almost mischievously looking into yours with a wide, knowing smirk taking over her lips. Oh no. Busted. “Are you jealous?” She accuses slowly. Are you jealous? Maybe you are because you’ve never really seen her flirt with anyone else the way she does with Rick. Or maybe it’s just friendship that has no obligation; she had to be ‘friends’ with everyone on the team to maintain a good work environment. And it was for ‘life or death on the field’ as Steve loved to say anytime there was a minor inconvenience or disagreement within the team.

“What? No. Why would I be?” You nervously reply with a chuckle but Natasha sees right through you, throwing her head back with a laugh. You immediately lean forward, letting your lips race over her skin. Leaving soft kisses, you tighten your arms around her; they’re on autopilot the moment you hear her soft sigh, that sigh that indicates she’s more than ready for a little more skin to skin. Or lips to skin. Tongue to skin.

“Mmm, I don’t know. But I sense a little green in your eyes.” She teasingly rolls her hips, adjusting a little until she’s straddling your lap. With a sigh of your own, you protest when your lips disconnect from her skin. But it’s so worth it when you have Natasha looking down at you with nothing but pure adoration, playfulness and seduction in her green eyes. Gently, you pull on the hairband tying her hair up until red waves cover the two of you like a curtain. Lavender takes over your senses and you’ve never been happier.

“That’s just a reflection of yours.” You practically whisper, hot breath trickling against her lips. Still, to this day, Natasha is swoon by you; you can tell by the subtle intake of air, the small twitch of her eyelids as they flutter for just a second. She’s never felt love like this and you’re here to prove she deserves it every second of the rest of her life.

“Okay, brownie points for that one.” She keeps her teasing persona as she composes herself, grinding her hips just one more time like she’s hinting at something. You already know what she wanted from the moment she gave you that knowing smirk and sat on your lap. Maybe a little teasing is what you need to do this time. You can wait a couple more minutes.

“Can I get a little more than brownie points?” Or seconds.

“What’d you have in mind?” Or milliseconds. Your hands immediately fall onto her ample ass, squeezing a little too hard to be considered endearing. Your eyes turn predatory when she lets out a gasp, nails digging deep into your shoulders when you pull her closer. “Oh! Y/N Y/L/N, what do you take me for?” She giggles as you bury your face deeper into her chest, taking a long breath and sighing as you let her warmth take over you.

“Mine.” You mumble a little playfully, a little possessively, a little...worriedly? You’re a little surprised at the insecurity in your tone, not realising you even had deeper feelings about this. But Natasha keeps you secure.

[A/N - SMUT WARNING]

“Always.” She always does. With a final sigh, your lips come together like they have a hundred times and it still feels just as electrifying. Natasha sighs into the kiss like you’ve just completed her life, like there’s nothing left for her to do but lay back happily in content. That’s exactly what she does when your arms keep her tight against your body as you walk into your caravan, dropping on the bed on top of her. You take your time kissing her lips, tongue roaming the inside of her mouth like you’re still trying to memorise every inch of her. With gentle hands that grip and knead her full hips, soft lips that pry hers open as she moans, you can’t help but smile widely. She smiles back when she feels it against her lips, legs coming up, pressing against your sides before wrapping around and pulling your hips closer to hers.

“You’re so beautiful.” You whisper when you finally pull your lips away from hers just to kiss down her sharp jawline, scraping your teeth across her skin. She gasps at the sensation, arching her body into you. The sensation of her nails digging into your back has you groaning against her, sinking your teeth into her neck, ready to paint on your canvas. “God, I’m so lucky.” You murmur and you’re not even sure if you’re talking to her or just speaking your thoughts aloud. Natasha doesn’t know half the time but it still has her blushing knowing that your thoughts are always occupied with her.

“Y/N, please.” She already pleads, knowing you’re in one of those appreciative moods. One thing you love doing is taking your time and it’s not even for her, but you. You want to make sure every inch of her body is kissed, loved, worshipped by your lips. Ignoring Natasha’s begging, you continue with your agonisingly slow pace down her neck, holding her hips down when she tries to seek friction against your thigh. Her skin feels hot against your lips, a little sweat forming a layer over her body, and somehow, she tastes amazing. You’re addicted and you know it and she knows it which is the only reason she smiles and stops begging. “Feels so good.” She mumbles in a low voice, timid, like she’s terrified. Even until now, Natasha sometimes gets overwhelmed by the intensity of your emotions, the intensity of her emotions that feel like an avalanche whenever you kiss her like this, when you break your lips away just to look into her eyes for a moment like you’re in disbelief. Whether that’s disbelief in having her or in her existence, it depends on your mood, but most of the time it’s both, and every time it cracks her heart open to you just a little more.

“You’re not cold.” You observe in a mumble as your hand sneaks under her shirt and Natasha doesn’t miss the double meaning of your words this time, whimpering from the overwhelming feelings growing in her chest. “Warm. Always warm for me.” You whisper into her stomach as you nuzzle your face in, the fabric of her shirt bunching up just under her bra. Your tongue leaves a trail up her soft abdomen and you follow that trail back down with open-mouthed kisses that leave flutters in her stomach. She’s insecure about her curves sometimes but they’re your favourite and you make sure she knows that. With a content sigh and the smallest of smiles, you bury your face into her just because you can; she runs her hand through your hair as she looks down with soft, vulnerable eyes. “So warm.” You repeat with a smile, kissing up until you reach her bra. She arches up as your fingers trail along her back until they reach the clasp. As you unclasp it, you nudge her shirt and bra with your nose and attach your lips the moment you can feel the new, unkissed skin revealed for you.

“Fuck.” She lets out a soft moan, arching into you. After months of experimenting with her body, you know exactly what she likes, exactly where her spots are. You know her breasts are always sensitive, but even more so when you look up into her eyes as you suckle. With a knowing smirk, you let your tongue stick out as much as it can, pressing it up against her perked bud and making sure you maintain deep eye contact. By the time your lips wrap around her and suck, she’s the one who breaks your intense gaze by throwing her head back with a loud whine. Fuck, maybe her sounds are your favourite. Or the way her heated body arches into you rather than away from you, begging for more. She doesn't need to vocalise anything anymore but she knows that even though you know her body, you still love hearing it. It drives you fucking crazy.

“You still sore?” You ask, referring to last week. But Natasha desperately shakes her head, her legs tightening around you as she arches her back even more. Her hips roll against your clothed abs, already feeling the hard surface she loves. And holy-fucking-shit this is your favourite. When Natasha gets insanely desperate to the point where she grinds against your abs, your thigh, your face, any surface of you that provides friction. Fuck taking your time. Moving at the speed of damn light, you sit up and pull your tank top off, leaning down to quickly drag her jeans and panties off in one go. With a desperate whine, Natasha reaches out to you, wrapping around you like a koala and this time both of you let out desperate moans together: Natasha for feeling your abs against her bare pussy and you for the parallel. Feeling her heat against your skin, her slick, fuck, just hearing the wet sounds as she grinds with primal lust has your pussy pulsing with need. You could cum just from this.

“Fuck, baby, feels so fucking good.” She lets out a string of filthy moans, a particularly loud one when your lips wrap around her other neglected nipple. Giving it the same treatment, you can’t help but moan around it as you suck, feeling her wetness trickling down your abs. You flex even harder just to give her a firmer surface, smirking when she groans, letting out a deep, desperate sound from the back of her throat.

“Look at you. So fucking desperate for me, aren’t you? Can’t even wait for my fingers...for my cock.” You spit out knowing how much your dirty talk affects her. With another desperate whine, Natasha throws her head back, nails and heels digging into your back as she grinds frantically, searching for her release. “Go on, baby, you’re doing so good for me.” You urge her on, flicking your tongue over her nipple, teasing her. She gasps at the sensation - you’ve noted in your mind that she gets even more sensitive when she’s close to cumming. Her entire body lights on fire at the smallest of touches from you, and all you want to do is watch her face as she comes right now.

“I-can I cum, please, fuck, please.” Natasha pants between moans, looking down into your eyes with nothing but pure desire and desperation. With a smirk, you roll your tongue over her nipple and suck it into your mouth, wrapping your arms around her body to somehow pull her pussy even closer to your hardened abs. That’s all the permission she needs. With a broken cry, she arches into you as her head’s thrown back, body grinding so fucking fast against you you’re pretty sure she’d fall off the bed if you weren’t holding her. Feeling her desperation has you moaning, groaning, whimpering with her, holding tight to make sure she rides her high out. You’re close enough to hear - with your heightened senses - the wet sounds of her pussy pulsing, juices leaking down your abs, yet the only thing you want to focus on is her thrown-back head. With a frustrated huff, your hand lets go to wrap around her neck, squeezing until she’s gasping, looking back at you as she cums. With her eyes locked to yours, you can see everything she’s feeling as she rolls her hips, taking on an irregular pace now. She shudders against you, pussy too sensitive to be touched right now so you unflex, letting your abdomen turn soft for her. She lets out an appreciative sigh between moans and groans, slumping down on the bed. But her legs don’t move from around your waist and you don’t want to move anyway.

“I’ll never get enough of you, you know.” You mumble into her ear as you bite down gently, knowing that one spot behind her ear can have her moaning in seconds.

“Really?” She breathes out in a shaky voice, hands trailing up and down your muscled back. With a soft chuckle, you leave the gentlest of kisses, leaning back to face her. Your lips rest against hers for a moment, just appreciating everything that is Natasha before pecking her lips and forcing her to pull her legs away from you. Stumbling out of the bed, you strip your clothes off and dig into the drawer of the side table until you find what you want. She said she’s not sore anymore, so if she can’t walk tomorrow that isn’t on you, right? “Fuck.” She whispers when you turn around as you put the harness on. It’s the same one from last week, the biggest in your collection so far. It was Nat’s idea anyway, but after fucking her with it for the first time, it’s definitely your favourite.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you looked when I fucked you with this? I swear, I could cum just by looking at you.” Natasha groans at your words, a primal look on her expression as she pulls you to the bed. But this time she flips you onto your back and fuck. Her eyes turn seductive, animalistic, so fucking dark as she lets her hands roam over your body. With a gulp, you adjust to get comfortable, letting out a groan when her tongue brushes over your nipple. But she doesn’t stop there because her destination is-Oh. Oh fuck. Her tongue-Her tongue licks over your flexed abs, licks over the slick her pussy left, and a desperate whimper escapes your throat and damn her for turning you into a desperate mess. With your hands tugging her locks, you help guide her tongue over your abs, letting out soft moans at the feeling and it seems she’s enjoying it just as much as you are judging by her whimpers. When there’s nothing left for her to clean up, she leaves a soft kiss on each hardened section of your abs, kissing lower and lower until she reaches the large toy between your legs. Okay, you thought that was desperate, but now you reach a whole other level seeing her teasing smirk as she flicks her tongue over the head of the strap. You don’t feel it, but it sure fucking feels like you can when she presses the strap down against your clit with each head bop.

“Beg.” Natasha tells you in a commanding voice, tearing her tongue away from the strap. She holds the base with a smirk, and her expression doesn’t falter as you quirk a brow at her.

“No.” You play along with a smirk of your own, your hands tugging on her locks to pull her down. Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight back, gasping at your aggression. You take that opportunity to push the head of the strap into her mouth with a moan and Natasha can’t help but moan back. Her fake domination act drops immediately when you overpower her, pushing her head up and down your strap as she takes inch by inch. It stretches her lips a little and you know she can’t take the whole thing into her mouth, but you love the desperate whines she lets out whenever you make her try. You push her head down as you grunt, watching her practically rut her hips against the sheets for friction. She’s gagging, choking, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she takes all she can. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good at this.” You praise softly with one of your desperate whines that you know drive Natasha crazy. “My good girl.” That’s all it takes for Natasha to moan loudly against the strap, gagging as her throat opens up a little. It only takes one more inch for her to pull back quickly, gasping and coughing, but all you can focus on is the string of saliva attaching from her lips to the strap. “Colour?” You ask in a gentle voice, breaking away from your dominating role.

“So green.” She immediately answers in between deep breaths.

“Good.” You smirk, tugging her by the hair until she’s straddling your hips. The strap presses between her pussy lips as it rests flat over your abs and you groan at the sight of her slick mixing with the wetness on the strap. With a moan, Natasha starts rolling her hips against the surface, coating it with her juices. “So fucking wet for me.” You growl, gripping onto her soft curves to help her move her hips. Watching her back arch, head thrown back as she lets herself get taken over by her pleasure, you let out a content sigh. Fuck, she’s a fucking dream. Every inch of her is perfect. Natasha does nothing to make it easier for you when she slowly looks down at you with hooded eyes, clouded by lust, bright white teeth digging into her full bottom lip. You’re practically hypnotised at this point, strong hands squeezing her hips a little too hard; Natasha gasps at the pressure, arching a little more and you take that chance to sit up and latch onto a perked bud that was almost begging for your mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Natasha seductively moans your name in a tone she knows you love, earning herself a grunt as you rut your hips up. She grinds down against the strap before pushing you back impatiently. You fall onto your back with a soft gasp at her aggression, but you’re not complaining when you see her sit up a little to line up the head of the strap with her pussy and holy fuck she’s dripping. She almost laughs when she sees your face, your eyes hurriedly looking up to her face and back down to her pussy, up to her marked chest. You look frantic and she can’t help but snort.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You groan out, giving her a playful glare. She teases her entrance with the strap, letting out soft sighs as she fights her smile by biting her bottom lip.

“You look confused.” She observes, tilting her head.

“I don’t know where to look. Damn you for being so perfect.” You push your hips up to tease her further, the head of the strap poking into her entrance. She gasps at the sudden movement, no longer playful. She can’t wait any longer. As you grip onto her hips to steady her, she holds onto your forearms hard enough for you to feel the pressure, sitting lower and lower as she gasps at the stretch. “Shit.” You pant as your eyes keep flickering, watching her wet pussy stretch, dripping onto the strap, watching her eyes roll to the back of her head with her mouth hung open. Your eyes stick to watching her pussy stretch as she moans with delicious pleasure. The only time you glance up is when she gasps, whines, pants a little louder, her face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Oh, oh, yes, fuck.” Natasha hisses, moans over and over again in satisfaction, like she loves the pain, loves the feeling of her pussy walls being stretched by your strap. When there’s only an inch left, you suddenly thrust your hips up to speed the process with a grunt. “Fuck!” Natasha gasps at the feeling but it turns into a filthy moan at your desperation, impatience, dominance. You let her roll her hips as she adjusts, eyes glancing over every inch of her body, hands roaming, stopping at every sweet spot you can find.

“That’s it, baby, you’re taking my cock so good, fuck.” You encourage with your words and you can’t feel it but you can hear it when her pussy clenches tightly around the toy. Losing all patience and control, you sit up and wrap yourself around her, stretching her legs until they’re hooked over your arms. She gasps at how deep you push into her in this position, eyes opening to see you impossibly close to her face. As your nose brushes over her lips, you give her a final smirk before beginning your rapid pace, driving into her as hard as you can. If you weren’t holding her so tightly, she’d have fallen off the bed and she knows it; Natasha lets out a string of downright porn-worthy moans, groans, pants and squeals, holding on tightly as you pound into her pussy at a merciless pace.

“Yes, fuck yes, oh God, don’t fucking stop.” Natasha cries out, nails digging into your skin and you want her to pierce it so fucking bad it hurts that she can’t. You let out your frustrations on her pussy, thrusting faster, grunting at the downright filthy, wet sounds. With a foggy mind, you open your lips and kiss any inch of skin you find: her neck, collarbone, jaw, down her chest until your lips wrap around her nipple. Okay, so you may have a slight obsession with her chest, but Natasha seems like she doesn’t mind by her short moans, interrupted by each hard thrust that catches her off guard.

“Wanna make you cum so fucking bad.” You grunt, wrapping your arms around her waist tightly. Her body feels hot against yours but you welcome that scorching heat, letting it fuel you to thrust harder. You used to be terrified of this, wondering where the limit is between hurting her and pleasing her, but Natasha only shows signs of pure pleasure the rougher you get with her.

“Please.” She practically chants over and over again, nails digging into your shoulder as she throws her head back, grinding her hips down desperately. Your thrusts become irregular, frantic, nothing but pure animal instinct when you hear Natasha’s desperate whines directly in your ear, feeling her hot breath against your skin.

“Mine. All mine.” You possessively growl, sinking your teeth into her neck just as her hips freeze in pure ecstasy. You don’t stop thrusting upwards, despite how tight she’s suddenly gotten as her pussy pulses around your strap. A guttural moan from the depths of her throat fills the caravan as she reaches her high, body almost shaking, trembling, twitching in response to the overwhelming pleasure. She only loses more control when you force her eyes to meet yours, seeing the intensity in them. Natasha loses every thought in her mind when she sees that look in your eyes, when she sees how badly you want her. She’s still cumming when you flip over slowly, laying her down on the bed with your strap still buried deep inside her. She’s still cumming when you gently roll your hips, starting up a slow pace into her pulsing pussy. “Fuck, Nat, you’re so pretty, baby. Even your pussy sounds pretty.” You spill filthy words into her ear, leaving soft sucks and kisses, nipping at her skin until she gasps, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. She doesn’t utter a single word; Natasha lays on the bed and lets your praise bring tears to her eyes, letting herself feel loved, appreciated, desperately wanted. Your own whimpers falling out of your throat are enough for her to know how much she affects you. She hasn’t even touched you yet and you feel more than satisfied; her pleasure is your pleasure.

“I-” She struggles to find the words, choking every time she opens her mouth. With you, she reaches highs she never thought were possible. The wide stretch between her legs is nothing but intoxicating, the smell of you on top of her, a mix of your shampoo, moisturiser, and a scent that is distinctly you lulls her into an almost narcotic haze. You can see the haze in her eyes as she looks into yours. She’s high on you.

“I-I’m yours.” You whisper, chickening out of saying the words you’ve been itching to say for months, before even coming here with her. But Natasha understands. She always does. She connects your lips in a gentle kiss, but keeps her eyes open, brushing her lips to yours with each thrust of your hips. She whines into your mouth every time you bottom out, tugging on the hairs at the back of your neck with want, with need. She needs you. And maybe that’s all you’ve ever needed - for someone to need you. For someone to look at you like you’re the Sun and they’re the Earth, orbiting around you; Natasha’s life orbits around you and she doesn’t need to say it because she shows it. She showed it by dropping her life, her team, her freedom for you. Only for you.

“Don’t stop.” She whispers, voice hoarse, tears threatening to spill out of her bright eyes. They’re not as dark as they usually are, but that intensity, vulnerability, that show of emotion is welcomed by you.

“Never.” You promise her, wrapping your arms around her body as you lay flush on top of her, hips still moving, thrusting gently. It’s enough. It’s more than enough for her to gasp, grinding up slowly as your pelvis brushes over her sensitive clit. “I wanna make you feel good. So good. Like you make me feel.” You whisper with insecurity in your tone but Natasha simply runs her hands up and down your spine, letting out the gentlest of moans as she reaches a different kind of orgasm. One that you feel directly in your core when she forces your eyes to hers. And from the pressure of the harness against your clit, Natasha’s shorter pants into your mouth, and the raw nakedness in her bright eyes, you feel yourself falling off the edge of a mountain, the very mountain you run to every single day. This is what you were waiting for. This is all you’ve needed. “I-” You choke out, wanting to say the words, but you moan instead, shuddering against her as she twitches against you, falling off the same mountain but protecting you with her limbs wrapped around your body.

“I love you.” Natasha whispers, finishing your thought. There’s no hesitation in her tone, no more fear. You don’t even need to say it because she knows how you feel; she knows from your months of pining, from you choosing to leave with her, from the intense way you make love to her every single night. She knows. But this time you find the courage to say it anyway.

“I love you too.” And her smile is so worth it.

[A/N - SMUT OVER]

The next morning, you wake but you don’t feel the need to run. Some form of exercise is still needed just to keep your routine up - it gives you a sense of normality in this abnormal situation - so you dress as appropriately as you can with your limited options, in shorts and a tank top, heading outside. This particular area that you’ve settled down in isn’t the best looking with sticks and branches and even a couple of small trees broken on the ground. It’s not well taken care of, but you suppose that’s why Natasha picked it; there’s less of a chance of people coming to this area if it’s clear no one’s been here in years or cared enough to maintain the land.

The first week you came here, you took your time exploring before deciding you can use the logs, trees, all the scraps of heavy wood as makeshift weights. Sometimes you prefer using the heavy boulders and stones instead, but you like feeling the stretch of your biceps, so most of the time you curl one of the larger trees you’ve found here. Lifting it with ease, you begin your workout, lifting for a couple minutes until your muscles start to ache just a little.

By the time a thin layer of sweat covers your body, you hear movement inside the caravan and know Natasha’s just waking up. Her soft sounds as she stretches fill your ears but you don’t let it take over your senses just yet; you maintain your momentum, lifting the tree trunk above your head, doing a rep of shoulder presses. It’s only a few minutes later when Natasha pops her head out of the door with a fluffy blanket wrapped around her, watching you with a content smile on her face. That smile turns into something darker the longer she stares, eyes drifting over your muscled body, sweat trickling down your arms. She watches your back and shoulders flex, biting her bottom lip as she thinks about digging her nails into your skin as you pound into her.

“You’re thinking too loud.” You interrupt Natasha’s daydreaming, dropping the tree trunk onto the ground with a loud thud. It shakes the ground lightly but that only turns her on even more. You’ve noticed how hot she gets over your displays of strength - the attention doesn’t hurt, right? So, there’s no harm in flexing a little as you reach over for your bottle of water discarded on the ground.

“Tease.” She mumbles lowly, knowing you can hear her anyway. You chuckle in response as she rolls her eyes at the smug smirk on your expression. You take it a step further by stripping your tank top off, throwing it in her direction. She grabs it, glaring at your abs like they’re torturing her by being out in the cold too far for her to reach. But her glare turns into mischief when an idea comes to her mind. With a raised brow, you watch her curiously as she walks back into the caravan. And a few seconds later, you hear that familiar sigh followed by a soft moan and you sprint inside, almost tripping right through the door.

“Now who’s the tease?” The rest of the day is spent in bed with your head between Natasha’s soft thighs, with Natasha’s fingers between yours, kissing and memorising every inch of each other’s bodies prepared to do it all over again the next day, and the one after that, and every day you have left together. By the time it’s dark out, Natasha cooks up some soup for the two of you - you protested but just one quirk of a brow from her was enough for you to keep your mouth shut. You’ll take what you get.

As much as you like watching her as she mimics every show or movie she watches, the truth of it leaves a dull ache in your chest. She’s opened up and told you more about the Red Room and the indoctrination she went through, including being forced to watch hundreds of hours of television to mimic actors, accents, mannerisms that were deemed ‘acceptable’, making it easier for the spies to blend in. It’s become a habit for her, and although she looks cute doing it, although she doesn’t seem to care about the horrifying reality of it, you still do. So, you grab a blanket and lay it over both of your shoulders, pulling her close to you. Natasha leans into your touch with a soft smile, letting out a soft hum when you leave a gentle kiss on her head.

“Love you.” You mumble, just because you can. It’s worth it when she looks up at you with an obvious blush on her cheeks, leaning up to leave a long but gentle kiss on your lips.

“Love you too.” She whispers against your lips as both of you smile into each other, foreheads resting together. Suddenly, you can’t see the green in her eyes anymore as the entire caravan powers off. Taken over by darkness, your instinctive reaction is to hold onto Natasha tightly as you put your body on the line, protecting her from whatever danger is coming. But you wait…and wait…and wait, but nothing happens. Natasha pushes against your chest in slight annoyance, giving you a humourless look before standing up with a sigh. Looking around, she determines what the issue is immediately.

“The generator, I assume.” She mutters frustratedly, pulling the door open with a little aggression. With a sigh, you follow her out, looking to soothe her anger with a little positivity.

“Why don’t we take this opportunity to go grocery shopping?” Wrapping your arms around her waist, you feel Natasha sinking into you, letting herself get taken over by your familiarity and warmth. You can’t help but smile, a light blush on your cheeks at her reaction to the simplest of touches. “Come on, I haven’t had a Coke in so long.” You complain with an exaggerated groan. Natasha laughs against you lightly before turning around in your arms, wrapping hers around your waist as she pulls you closer. It warms your heart that she wants to be just as close to you as you want to be to her.

“It’s unhealthy.” She protests playfully.

“We’ll fuck the calories out.” You respond half-joking, but not really. Natasha’s eyes turn a darker tint that you notice even in the night light. She bites her bottom lip gently before reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss you softly. It still gives you flutters in your stomach, but not the terrified and nervous kind. Not anymore.

Strolling through the store wearing your grey joggers and a loose white tank, your mind goes back to your first night in New Orleans with Natasha. She scolded you for picking up Coke, using the same term - ‘unhealthy’ - that has slowly turned into a teasing phrase between the two of you. It’s the first time she offered to just...listen to you. To let you talk about your past, what haunts you, and here you are now over a year later, Natasha knowing every inch of your soul and accepting it.

“No ice cream this time.” Natasha teases as she walks by you in her hoodie - well, it’s your hoodie that she stole but what’s yours is hers and vice versa now.

“It’s never too cold for ice cream.” You argue back, pushing the cart forward to hit her. You’d expect it to hit the back of her ankle but it just bounces off her ass. Smirking, you do it again, ignoring her glare as she looks over her shoulder. “Bouncy.” You murmur as you stare with a dopey grin, so lost in your haze you don’t realise when she makes her way back to you until her hand is pulling on your ear. “Ouch!” You whine as she tugs hard with a snort at your reaction. It’s more out of shock than pain anyway.

“Behave.” She warns but you simply smack a hand over her ass as she walks by you and this time Natasha actually blushes, a little flushed at your obsession with her. Body or mind, it still gets her blushing, leaving flutters and shivers all over.

“Or what?” You tease with a raised brow, a knowing smirk on your face. The dynamic is simple and it always has been.

“Or I’ll have to punish you.” Natasha threatens, stepping closer to you, but it’s empty. Her hot breath on your lips has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you think about her so-called ‘punishments’: tying you down to the bed as she rides you; using your body to get herself off, avoiding giving you any direct pleasure; touching herself every night on the couch, leaving you on the bed alone and ‘banned’ from touching her. You end up fucking her either way by the end when she gets thoroughly desperate for you. Her own touch is never enough; she always needs you.

“Please do.” You plead sarcastically, following her with the cart. She pointedly walks past the freezers with the ice cream, but you stop with a challenging expression, opening it and grabbing the double chocolate fudge brownie. Natasha doesn’t even like chocolate, which makes this all the better for you. An amused smirk takes over your expression as she rolls her eyes at you with a scoff.

“Junk. This is why I shop alone.” She gestures to the cart filled with processed snacks but the glint in her eyes tell you she’s just messing with you.

“You hate me?” Natasha takes one look at the pout on your lips as you freeze in your spot and she walks over to you with a sigh. Soft biceps bulge slightly as she crosses her arms over her chest, drawing your attention down. But you maintain your act, keeping the pout and furrowed brows on display. Natasha fights a grin as she leans up on her tiptoes to peck your lips and you naturally chase her lips down until you’re practically making out next to the ice cream freezer.

“You’re such a baby.” She whispers against your lips when she pulls away, letting out a soft laugh as you playfully bite her bottom lip before pulling away with an inevitable grin of your own.

“You know, you complain too much. If anyone else had me-” Natasha doesn’t let the teasing words leave your mouth, already spinning on her heel after giving you a not so playful shove.

“I’d be very careful with my next words if I were you.” She hisses and you can’t help gulping at her reaction.

“I-Yes, ma’am.” You stutter, halfway between terrified and turned on. “Damn.”

It only takes another 15 minutes for the two of you to be done with your shopping. The shopping cart isn’t necessarily filled to the brim, but you have added perhaps too many bags of crisps, bits and pieces of frozen savoury pastries to try, and, of course, your Coke. Natasha gave you a playful glare at the sheer amount of Coke bottles, but you ignore her and pay, loading everything into the trunk of the car.

“I hate this song.” You mumble while turning a corner. Natasha simply hums along, tapping her fingers on the dashboard. It only takes a couple more seconds for her to burst out into song, earning a laugh from you that tugs on her heartstrings. You take a moment to glance over at her, loving her carefree attitude, the way she moves her arms, hips, nodding her head along to the music, the way she throws her head back as she laughs at you quirking your brow at her. God. You’re so in love. “Hey.” Natasha turns her head to you, smiling softly. “I…” You hear it before Natasha does - the sound of wheels grinding at an alarming pace on the wet ground. You see it before she does too - the bright white headlights in the distance coming closer and closer. And you do the first thing your heart tells you to; you jump forward, wrapping your arms around her as the bright light of the speeding car reaches its destination, crashing into Natasha’s side of the vehicle.

Your eyes flutter closed, ears ringing, Natasha struggling to move your heavy arms away from her body so she can reach for her gun. You close your eyes and… wake. Your eyes snap open and there’s only one thought on your mind. You need to run.

Chapter Text

Drowning out the sound of Natasha's voice, of the flames, of the car beeping as a warning that something bad is about to happen - a bit late, isn’t it? - you let out a groan at the pain in your shoulder and realise it’s dislocated. Natasha’s the one who tugs, hard, pushing it back into place, and that’s when the ringing in your ears finally stops.

“-okay? Y/N? Hey, can you hear me?” You can, but you can’t find the words. You’re anything but okay right now and all you want to do is cry because you turn to the side and see someone in a goddamn metal suit and you already know your time pretending to have a normal human life is up. “I’m pretty sure Ross has no jurisdiction here.” Natasha yells at the masked figure, still reaching for her gun. The car tips as she moves so she stills, but you move on autopilot, practically jumping out of the window behind you, away from her, away from the masked figure that tilts its head, paying no attention to you. “What are you doing?!” Natasha yells at you as the car shakes again, dropping further off the bridge.

“What I was made to do.” You move behind the car, squatting down, taking in a deep breath before gripping onto the metal and pulling as hard as you can. You can feel the adrenaline, the blood rushing right to your head - it’s been a while since you’ve exerted your strength, your power. The car shifts with your strength, moving closer to you as you take a step back, tugging as hard as you can. You can feel the throb of the veins in your arms, your neck, as you pull and pull and pull until the car - until Natasha - is safely on the bridge. You’re practically vibrating with adrenaline, focusing on your breathing to not overwhelm yourself. “Now. Who the fuck are you?” You growl out, tilting your head at the masked figure. But they ignore you, eyes trained on Natasha as she shoots her gun. She manages to get out of the car before the figure kicks it far back - too far back to be human, you note. Or maybe the suit has the power. “Hey! I’m talking to you, asshole!” It’s a low move to attack from behind, but you go ahead and try anyway, anger fuelling you. But your eyes grow wide as the figure spins around, catching your fist in theirs. You can barely get another punch in before you feel a metal boot against your ribs, kicking you so far back your back cracks against the car in the distance.

How the fuck did you get here? It was…it was going so fucking good, it was good, your little home was good, your girl-Natasha was good, hell, even drinking shitty almond milk and eating rabbit food was good. It was normal. But perhaps that was the problem; it was too good to be true. Like it or not, you’re an Avenger, you’re a Super-Soldier, you will always have a target on your back. The next few seconds are spent with you lying in the dent your body created in the roof of the car, only hearing the sound of your bones cracking, forming together as your body heals itself. The pain doesn’t bother you anymore, not like it used to, not after you were conditioned to fight through everything. You want to go home.

“You’re not here for me.” You hear Natasha husk out as you lift your head to look up, seeing both of them looking towards you.

“Shit.” You let out a frustrated groan, jumping off the car and getting into a defensive stance. The figure’s arm swings as Natasha charges towards them; they grip her throat and hearing her gasp for air changes your stance to offensive in record time. “Let her go!” You yell as you lunge forward, narrowly missing the boot aimed for your chest again. Not this time, fucker.

You slide across the ground on your knees, dodging every attempted punch and kick towards your face. It’ll only takes one for you to lose the upper hand now that you’ve felt the strength of whoever this is. You grab their incoming boot before it breaks your nose, twisting and pushing hard. The masked figure spins in the air in a flash of orange and blue, falling a couple of feet away from you. It’s a safe enough distance for you to check up on Natasha. “You okay?” You quickly rush over to Nat who groans as she holds onto her stomach. She nods and shakes it off, eying the open trunk of the car. She can pull through it, especially when she’s in her ‘fight’ mindset.

“They’re after that box.” She whispers to not draw attention to the fact that she knows. With the masked figure approaching fast, you impulsively push Natasha towards the trunk of the car, putting your body in the way of the blow. Their metal fist collides with your jaw hard enough for it to bruise for a minute. But you refuse to drop to the ground; stumbling almost tripping over your own feet, you throw a combo, dropping to the ground to swipe your leg under them but they easily jump over it, stomping their foot down heavily in an attempt to break your leg. The weight of their strength cracks the concrete.

“Really?” You scoff at them, swiftly flipping onto your feet, putting everything you have into a punch to their gut. You feel the metal breaking the delicate bones in your fist but it’s worth it to see them flying far back, just in time for Natasha to aim a wire at their leg, shooting the other to attach to a beam above the bridge. You take that opportunity to run back to the trunk, taking what you can as Natasha subtly empties the box. Turning back when you hear stomping, you’re not quick enough to grab Natasha as she gets kicked off the bridge and into the water. Without a second thought, you jump in after her, letting the incredibly cold water numb the pain you’re feeling all over your body.

“Hide!” You hear her in the distance, so you dunk your head under the water and follow the sound. Closing off the senses you don’t need, you focus on the waves, the vibrations, the little pants of breath you can hear from Natasha, her heartbeat. You let that guide you to her and it only takes a couple of minutes until you reach land, trailing behind her with a groan. You drop onto the ground with an annoyed huff, watching as she pulls out a thin piece of paper from the middle of the glowing red vials. “It’s Yel-Are you serious? Did you actually bring your Coke?” Natasha yells in disbelief, brows raised at you. Well. It’s clear she is not amused at all.

“What was I supposed to grab? You had the box!” You yell back in annoyance, hugging your 6-pack of Coke bottles to your chest. It’s dark but you know she rolls her eyes at you; you don’t even need to look at her to know what she’s doing anymore. It’s predictable, but it was good. And whoever that fucking was just ruined it all for you and all you have is a pack of Coke. And you’re sure as hell going to savour it before everything goes to shit.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe your wallet? A gun?” She says patronisingly; you grunt in response, twisting your body as your bones form back. It’s not as painful as it used to be, but it’s been a while since you’ve broken anything. And the fight is over for now, so it’s harder to push away the pain when there’s nothing else to focus on. The discomfort is clear on your face.

“Just let me be happy.” You grumble and Natasha can’t help but sigh, giving up in her impulsive anger. She slowly drops to her knees next to you, resting a hand on your cheek. It’s cold, but you need the cold right now, especially on your bruised jaw. You’re pretty sure that motherfucker fractured your skull or something, and it amazes you how much Natasha’s touch heals you - heals your mind, but somehow it affects your body too.

“Where does it hurt?” She whispers loud enough for you to hear, her soft voice combined with the dull pain lulling you into a near-sleep.

“Everywhere.” You hum, leaning into her touch, cheek hot against her cold hand. You let out a groan, arching your back slightly, shivering as you heal.

“I still hate that sound.” She mumbles and you’re not sure if she means the bones or your groans of pain, but it’s endearing either way when you see the pained look in her eyes as she watches over you, not knowing what she can do to ease your pain. Little does she know all she has to do is exist.

“I love you. That’s what I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted. God. Who the fuck was that? Do they have no manners? Most villains talk, too much sometimes that they end up spilling their whole plan to us!” You yell out, grumbling as you stumble to your feet, feeling better already. Natasha lets out a string of laughter as she looks up at you, still on her knees. You can’t help but smirk and she already knows where your mind has gone, but she gives you her famous eye roll and takes your offered hand.

“You’re such an idiot.” She says, breath hot against your lips as she stands on her tiptoes to give you a quick peck. Refusing to let you deepen the kiss further, she walks past you, the red glow of the vials illuminating in her hands. Once again, you’re broken out of your makeshift utopia, letting out a defeated sigh as you begrudgingly follow her. You want to go home.

“Where’re we headed?” You ask, rushing to catch up to her. She lets your hand fall into hers to comfort her as a shaky breath escapes between her trembling lips. You don’t like her terrified expression. Not one bit.

“Budapest.”

Natasha told you about Yelena and her as kids, how they played together all the time at the park, how much they cared for each other. She also told you how Yelena grew up to have a bit of an attitude, how the playing turned into sparring turned into fighting turned into Natasha leaving because she had no other choice. And she had a feeling. She had a feeling Yelena would resent her for it, for getting out without her, for leaving her behind, and she also told you how haunted she is by it. By the guilt. The way she coped was by telling herself - selling herself - the story that they were never sisters. The bond they had wasn’t real; they were there on a mission and that was it. The mission went south and they had to leave and go back to the Red Room, to training, to preparing for the next one and hundreds more to come. That was their life.

So, hearing the distant sound of grunting, heavy breathing, and furniture crashing was expected, because sisters fight all the time, right? What wasn’t expected was the frying pan coming for your face that you narrowly dodge, snapping your head to face the culprit with a hard glare on your face. Meeting brown, almost hazel eyes, you tilt your head, matching the blonde’s head tilt. The room is filled with nothing but silence as the two of you size each other up for a moment or two before she raises a brow, gesturing to the pizza box in your hand.

“Are you going to share that?” Her words come out in a thick Russian accent, filled with attitude and entitlement. A scoff escapes you as you swallow the pizza you were chewing before you were attacked by a pan.

“Why would I share with you? You just tried to knock me out with a frying pan!” You exclaim, gesturing behind you to the pan currently sticking halfway out of the wall it poked into. Either the walls here are incredibly thin, or she somehow has super strength.

“Because I asked nicely!” She growls, stepping towards you in a threatening manner.

“That was nice?” You let out a humourless laugh to which she glares at.

“Would you rather I take it from you?” She threatens and you can’t help but cackle as you tower over her figure. She’s the same height, almost the same build as Natasha. While she can try her best to do some damage, you doubt she’ll even make a dent.

“I’d love to see you try, midget.” You tease, leaning back to easily avoid the fist coming towards your face at your comment.

“Oh, you did not just-” She yells, but Natasha’s voice pierces through the room, stopping both of you in your tracks before a fight breaks out.

“Stop it! God, you two are going to give me a headache.” The both of you look down at your feet, guilty expressions painted on your faces as Natasha scolds you. “Y/N, just give her a slice, and-where did you even get that from? You don’t have your wallet.” She narrows her eyes, attention turning to the pizza box in your hand. You swallow the big ball in your throat.

“I-Well, you see-” Laughing nervously, you step back away from her as she steps closer. Oh, you’re in trouble.

“You stole it. Seriously?” Her voice rises in pitch, glare permanently on her face at this point. Yelena takes the opportunity to swipe the box from you, but you pay her no mind as Natasha’s hard expression starts to twitch.

“I have cravings! You’ve been feeding me rabbit food for months!” You accuse in a tone that sounds embarrassingly close to a whine, but you drop it the second you see Natasha’s brow crinkle. Her lips quiver slightly as she takes in a quick breath, turning to face the wall. The sun glares through the window at her, emphasising her anxious figure.

“It’s not-can you just-ugh!” She rests her hands on her hips as she bends down a little, but you’re there to catch her, already replacing her hands with your own. She leans back into your touch quickly, forgetting how annoyed she just was with you. Guilt fills you as you look over her, realising you’re not the only one whose peace was interrupted. Whoever that was just turned Natasha’s world upside down too and it’s clear that she’s having a hard time processing it. And there’s the matter of her sister - or not-sister - who apparently still resents her for leaving.

“Hey…hey, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” You whisper, leaving a long and gentle kiss on her forehead as you pull her into you. Wrapping your arms around her, you sigh and take a moment to relish in the comfort of Natasha’s warmth, her soft body fitting perfectly against yours. Yelena breaks the silence by making a whipping sound, earning herself a glare as you snap your head to her. “Do you want to keep your hands?” She smirks at your response, taking the last slice of pizza with no remorse. Monster.

“Y/N!” Natasha groans, pulling away from you reluctantly. Moment broken.

“Sorry! You didn’t tell me how annoying she is.” You let Natasha walk away as she looks out of the window, making sure no one followed her here.

“Oh, boohoo. Cry about it.” Yelena rolls her eyes, rubbing fake tears from under her eyes. Just as you’re about to argue back, you hear Natasha’s soft sigh and turn towards her seeing the worried expression on her face.

“Hey, look at me. You okay?” She nods, wrapping her arms around herself defensively. She doesn't want to talk about it and that’s fine with you for now. She’ll vent when she needs to and she knows you’re there to listen. Your ears prick up as you hear a distinctive sound, a gun clocking, footsteps moving fast pounding on the ground. “You’re okay. Come on. We gotta get out of here.”

“Why?” Natasha turns her head to you with a curious brow.

“I hear incoming.” You pick up the sound of closer footsteps and a clicking. Quickly, you make a jump for it, wrapping your arms around Natasha just in time to pull her away from the collapsing ceiling as it explodes. You all turn your heavy footsteps to feathery ones, swiftly taking cover as you hide from the intruders. “Guns. Lasers.” You mumble quickly to Natasha as you use your heightened senses. Natasha flinches when a shot is fired through the wall, a little too close to you. Lifting your hand up, you gesture to let them know you sense two indoors, at least another two outside on the ground, and another pair on the roof opposite your building.

“Ugh.” Yelena groans before twisting the knob, the explosions and sparks providing enough of a distraction for you all to make a run for it. You run behind, making sure your body is shielding them from any bullets. “Motorbike! East side!” Yelena yells as you and Natasha follow her into a sprint, narrowly dodging the bullets shattering the glass windows. The glass slices your skin but it rapidly heals.

“This is not what I signed up for!” You grunt, falling back as Natasha and Yelena slide down the roof, giving them some time to escape. You come face to face with another black widow, tilting your head side to side as you crack your neck. But before you can even take a step, she’s throwing two widow bites across the roof. They stop at your feet and you let out a groan, dropping to your knees as the electricity runs through your veins. Okay, so maybe you’re a little rusty. In your defence, you haven’t fought or trained properly in a while; going on runs and lifting tree trunks doesn’t count. “All I wanted was a fucking coke.” You grumble a few seconds later when it wears off and make a run for it. “Nat!”

She turns her head at the sound of your voice, fingers gripping onto the surface of the-what the fuck is that? Whatever. You run towards her, jumping onto the large pipe thing just as it crashes down. Yelena falls through the glass but your hand manages to catch Natasha’s before she falls to the ground. Your heart drops in your gut, a painful discomfort as you grip tightly, watching Natasha’s body swing. It’s a huge drop.

“Let me go!” Natasha shouts, trying to loosen your grip. Your eyes widen at her, looking at her in disbelief, clinging onto her hand tightly.

“What? Fuck no!” She must have hit her head pretty fucking hard if she thinks you’re going to let her go.

“She’s hurt. Let me go.” Natasha emphasises, gesturing to the widow on the ground, unmoving. You hesitate for a second before sighing and stretching down as much as you can, carefully letting her go. She drops onto the large vent and crawls her way down skilfully in seconds, unharmed.

“She’s going to be the death of me. I swear to God.” You mumble as you build momentum, swinging your legs before jumping through the broken window landing next to Yelena. The glass crunches loudly under your boots. “You okay?” You hold a hand out for the blonde to hold but she grumbles, climbing up to her feet and dusting herself off.

“Shut up.” She marches off to the staircase, running down as fast as she can. You sigh and follow her, catching up pretty quickly.

“This is what I get for being nice.” Yelena pauses in her tracks, looking at you with a serious expression, lips tugged down into a slight frown. Okay, you know you can probably take her, but you can’t help but feel a little intimidated. She is Natasha’s ‘sister’ after all and all you wanted was to make a good impression on her. That’s gone to shit and it’s clear that you need to do a little more to gain her approval.

“You kept pizza from me. You are now my enemy, Miss Crushy.” She whispers threateningly as she talks a step forward, narrowing her eyes at you before she turns her back to you and continues running down the stairs.

“It’s Crusher.” You mumble, grumbling all the way down, dragging your feet heavily with you. You have a pretty strong feeling this is not ending anytime soon. And you love Natasha. God, you really love her and you’d do anything for her; you’ll follow her to the edge of the world if she wanted you to. But your peace has been interrupted. And you think maybe you can convince her to just…drop this. Just that very thought makes you feel like the most selfish person on this planet but this is not her fight. She was dragged into this. She was…she was happy with you away from this, away from the world, from the Avengers and villains and everyone out there that poses a threat to your happiness. But deep down, subconsciously, you know she won’t. She won’t drop this.

Natasha and Yelena are already on the motorbike by the time you reach them. Before you can be filled in on what’s going on, she’s yelling at you to just grab one, but a car flies by behind you and you don’t even have time to think before a tank shows up, charging towards you.

“Oh, fuck my fucking life.” You grunt, rage filling your veins. “Go!” You yell to them, gripping the front of the tank with a loud exclamation, using your strength to prevent it from driving forward. Great. This is just fucking great. All they need to do is pump the breaks a little and you’re almost getting run over, fingers slipping. You brace for impact, waiting to get squished until you’re flat on the ground. But they’re driving so damn fast the speed pushes you up with a yelp, plastering you across the front of the tank.

So. This is your life now. Pressed up against a tank like a fucking starfish, wind blowing through your hair - or rather into your mouth and you’re pretty sure you swallowed a fly a few seconds ago - with no motivation to even move. You can play dead here, right? Now that you think about it, the wind feels good, the weather’s nice here with the sun glaring down at you. You glare back, knowing you’re being scolded for lazily lounging right now.

It’s not until you hear Natasha’s voice again telling Yelena to put her seatbelt on that you make a move. Disgruntled, you grip the edge of the tank and flip yourself up, boots striking the person above you driving the tank. But you’re too late in your movements. They’ve already fired their arrow, blowing up the car Natasha and Yelena had stolen. You watch it flip over as your stomach does its own flips, the car disappearing down into the subway. Ignoring the masked figure - wait is that the same fucker who came after you in Norway? - you run as fast as you can, making a record-breaking jump as you leap over the set of stairs leading down into the subway.

“Not now, trust me.” Natasha pants as she catches your eye, seeing how frustrated you look. You help them crawl out of the car and follow them down, sliding down the escalator. Narrowly missing the shield coming for your head, you growl in frustration, realising this is probably a lot more serious than you’re making it out to be.

“Natasha! I can’t fucking do this!” You yell in a tone you’ve never used with her and she’s taken aback, stuttering, eyes glancing from yours to the masked figure coming down the stairs.

“This isn’t the time.” Her voice cracks slightly and she clears her throat to mask her pain but you…you just sigh. You sigh and you walk forward, pulling the shield out of the pillar it’s stuck in. Seeing her with tears threatening to spill out of her eyes because of you is enough of a motivator. You’ve made such a fuss over your happiness without realising that she’s your happiness. Natasha’s your happy place, your family, your home. And you’re going to protect her with your life.

“Go.” You demand, getting into a defensive stance with the shield in front of your body. You hear her footsteps behind you, boots hitting small pieces of debris from the broken pillar.

“Y/N, please-” She tries, but you interrupt her, whipping your head around.

“Go!” Your tone leaves no room for debate and she sighs in defeat and pulls you into a quick hug, clinging onto you hard enough for you to feel it.

“You’ll know where to find me.” She whispers before running. You watch her figure until she’s out of your sight, taking in a shaky breath as you turn to face the masked figure. Their footsteps are heavy as they come forward, with no emotion in their body language whatsoever.

“Give me your best shot.” Your expression twists into a smirk, nothing but cockiness in your eyes as you hope to entice a reaction out of your opponent. But you quickly realise what you can do here to get the upper hand. Using your senses, you hear the metal of their suit creak before every hit, letting you dodge and block the punches and kicks coming your way. With every combo thrown your way, you manoeuvre your body until you find the chance to throw a heavy hook to their torso. Their body slides back, metal harshly scraping against the floor.

“What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!” You yell to the civilians standing at the side, watching you. A teenage girl holding her phone up to film you lets out a gasp as the masked figure stands back up, this time walking towards her, eyes glued to the device. But you get there before they do, holding the shield up as you brace it for impact. The sound echoes loudly in your ears as the figure’s metal fist bangs against the shield. You drop to the ground with a groan at the ringing in your ears, but your eyes widen at the fist rapidly coming for your face. Rolling over, you miss the attack, flipping up and kicking the masked figure back with both your feet. You land with your feet on the ground, fist punching through the concrete with a growl. You throw a punch and you’re absolutely shocked when they twist their body, tugging your arm down and wrapping their metal thighs around your head. It’s Nat’s move. That’s Natasha’s thigh move and you’re too busy thinking about it to realise you can’t breathe anymore. There’s not enough oxygen for you to use up as energy to fight out of the hold and before you know it, everything turns black.

Ouch. Fucking ouch. Your head’s pounding by the time you open your eyes. The lights are too bright around you and the sounds are too loud and everything is too much. You try and narrow down to focus on one sound, drifting from one to another: a kid crying, a dog barking, cameras clicking. That’s when you hear the sirens. You don’t even get to have a minute to yourself to rest before you have to jump to your feet, stumbling through the crowd of bodies filming you. Some people have the audacity to hold onto you, trying to keep you back. But their attempts are useless against your body as you crash through them, breaking apart the large crowd that has gathered around you.

You know where Natasha is because you’ve heard this story before with your head on the soft pillow and Natasha’s head on your soft chest, your fingers running through her sweaty locks. She told you about Budapest, about Clint’s mission to assassinate her. She defected to S.H.I.E.L.D., helping them take down Dreykov and the Red Room. They had to hide away from Hungarian Special Forces up in a vent in this exact station.

“This is cosy.” You grunt as you climb into the vent, crawling until you’re lying on the metal taking deep breaths in. Your head still hurts and your body still aches but at least you’re healing. Natasha’s letting out soft sounds every few seconds, clearly in pain and trying to push it back.

“That’s what I said.” Yelena speaks out, a slightly shaky tone. You can’t look at her from this angle but her tone and the silence tells you that you’ve just interrupted a serious conversation. This is not your day.

“So, this is where you and Clint stayed, huh?” You break the silence and Natasha takes a moment to collect her breath before answering.

“Yep.” She bluntly replies and you sigh in response, knowing she’s probably still a little upset about what you said.

“Nat-” You try, but this time she’s the one who interrupts you.

“We should get out of here. I think it’s clear.” Her tone is nowhere near as brutal as yours, but it does cut deep and you can’t argue back with her because she’s already moving. Yelena hisses and you’re not sure if it’s because of her injured arm or if she’s making fun of you. One look at her playful expression and you’re rolling your eyes at her.

“Brutal.” She teases, this time pushing her pride aside and taking your offered hand as you help her climb down the vent. Natasha’s already a couple of steps ahead of you, giving Yelena a chance to pry. “So, when did you start banging my sister?” She dives right in. Wow.

“I’ve lost track of time. But a year ago, I guess? Maybe longer. Before the Avengers broke up.” You’re timing it back to when you and her went to New Orleans. Despite how horrible it might have been in the last week of that mission, you sometimes wish you could just go back. It was peaceful, domestic, hell it felt like a honeymoon at times. You didn’t have to be Crusher and she didn’t have to be Black Widow.

“Broke up? What? Like One Direction?” She snorts.

“Yes, like One Direction.” You sigh, shaking your head. You keep your eyes ahead, watching Natasha as she walks. She looks around for any threats every few seconds, making sure you’re not being tracked. Always ‘on’. It’s admirable how quickly she shifts into professionalism.

“Was she happy?” Yelena speaks out, eyes ahead at Natasha too. She doesn’t look at you when your head snaps to the side.

“Was?” 

“Before I sent those vials and pulled her into this.” Yelena sighs.

“I-I think so.” You hesitate. For a split second. Yet she catches on, side-eyeing you. Oh no.

“Hmm.” She murmurs, keeping her head forward.

“What?” You ask, trying to put your persona of confidence on. But you’re itching to know what she thinks, what she’s figured out.

“Nothing.” She mumbles, shrugging her shoulders.

“What?” You push again, a more desperate tone to your question.

“I said nothing.” She lifts her hands up in surrender, a sly smile on her face.

“But you’re judging.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. She’s definitely judging, even more now that she sees the gears turning in your head as you try and figure out what the hell she thinks of you. Of you, and Nat, together. You were happy, right? She was happy. Right? If she was, then why was she so ready to jump back into the first fight that came her way?

“I am not a judgemental person, Y/N.” Yelena argues back with a raised brow, challenging you to call her out.

“Oh, that’s bullshit.” You do exactly that, earning a chuckle from the blonde.

“I’m not! I promise!” You stay silent after rolling your eyes at her. She can read your body language well enough to sense your frustration. “If you’re not even sure if she was happy with you, then…” Yelena speaks up, hesitating to finish her thought.

“Then what?” You push. Then what? What is she implying? That Natasha isn’t happy with you? “She loves me.” You reassure her, but part of you is kind of trying to reassure yourself. It took some time for Natasha to adjust to Norway, but even after that, it felt like something was missing. Like something was missing for her. You could see it in her eyes sometimes when she drifts away in thought. Almost like a part of her was bored. Like she wanted more, needed more, maybe. And watching her now? It makes you realise that perhaps this is what she needed, what she needs. All she has ever known is this: fighting for something, always moving towards a goal.

“That’s not the problem.” Yelena cuts through your internal monologue. You already know what she’s implying this time.

“I love her.” You say with zero hesitation. You know how you feel about Natasha and Yelena, stupid Yelena knows nothing because she’s just met you and this is a bad time. It’s a bad time and you and Nat are kind of going through something right now. A disagreement, you can call it that. She wants to fight, and all you wanted was a goddamn Coke.

“Are you sure? Because what you said back there was impulsive, and angry, and that’s what makes it the truth.” She catches you off guard and you try not to stumble over your words but end up stumbling over your feet instead. You glare as she snorts at you as you catch your balance.

“I-I just meant I can’t-I can’t keep running and fighting and-” You stutter as you desperately defend yourself. Are you trying to convince her or yourself?

“I understand. And I’m sure Natasha will too.”

“Will?”

“You want to leave.” Yelena accuses. You do stop walking this time, letting out a frustrated sigh with your hands rested on your hips. The heat of the sun isn’t making you feel any better - maybe your body has adjusted to the cold so the point where you crave it now.

“I-No, I stayed. I’m staying.” The roll of her eyes tells you she doesn’t really believe your words.

“If you say so.” She walks away towards the gas station Natasha’s disappeared in.

“Can you just get me a Coke? And something greasy.” You call out to her, turning your back to her.

“Sure, Crushy.” She calls back teasingly. God, she’s annoying. Really annoying. It’s annoying how she’s read your entire dilemma with Natasha in less than a couple hours of knowing you. 

Natasha loves you, and you fucked it by impulsively choosing Wanda. Fixing it was easy enough by choosing Natasha when it mattered, choosing to spend your life with her. Or that’s what you initially thought. Maybe you haven’t really fixed it. The way Natasha reacted to you saying you can’t do this broke you slightly, because you could see how much it broke her. It’s a look you’ve seen before, like she knew it was coming, like she was preparing herself for the rejection and heartache. The same look she gave you in Meyer’s basement.

But can she really blame you for wanting to stay out of this? That’s the whole reason you left with her instead of Steve and…and Wanda. Because you didn’t want to fight anymore. Hell, you’re pretty sure Bucky is somewhere out there away from Steve for the very same reason. As much as he loves him, he needs to put himself and his mental state first.

Maybe that’s what Natasha’s scared of? That you only came with her to get away, rather than to be with her. Maybe that’s your fault. Maybe you should have tried harder to make her feel loved and appreciated. Maybe you should have picked her when it mattered most to her, not when it mattered most to you.

“Catch.” Yelena throws the plastic bottle of Coke at you, hitting you on the head. It breaks you out of your trance and you glare at her, rubbing your head with an annoyed huff. Natasha barely glances at you. In fact, she tries to walk right past you but you grab her arm to stop her. With a soft smile, you wrap your arms around her waist to pull her into you.

“You look like you need a hug.” You mumble as she buries her face in your neck after resisting for a couple seconds. She clings on tight as you breathe her in, holding her for as long as she’ll let you. “I’m sorry.”

“I know how hard this is for you.” Nat pulls back, impossibly soft hands coming up to hold your cheeks gently. Her thumb strokes along your skin as you lean into her touch with a subtle sigh. If you close your eyes tight enough you can imagine you’re with her in bed in your little caravan, no problems, no widows, no one but you and the love of your life. You’ll even drink almond milk if it means you get to stay far far away from the world with Natasha by your side.

“Nat, I-”

“Ugh! Boring. I’m hungry.” Yelena groans, breaking your little bubble. This time it’s Natasha who glares at her, but you can see the playfulness in her eyes. She can’t really be mad at Yelena, not after missing her for this much, finally being able to see her and spend time with her. Even if it’s a little tense at times.

“You’re just like Y/N.”

“Hey!” Both you and Yelena exclaim in offended tones. Nat lets out a string of laughter as she walks away to find a place to eat. Maybe you can fight a little longer.

You’re too focused on your burgers and fries - yes, plural - to pay attention to the conversation in the background. Natasha and Yelena have a lot to catch up on so you just eat and drink until you’re a couple beers down - you like the bitter taste. Your loud burp catches their attention but Natasha’s used to it. She even gives you a small, endearing smile, but Yelena’s face scrunches up into an expression of disgust.

“It’s natural.” You argue with a raised brow.

“You eat like a pig. Dad will love her.” She tells Natasha with a soft grin. She laughs along with her as you grunt and hold your burp in this time. It’s a little painful and not as satisfying as letting it out, but whatever. Manners, right?

“I need ammo for these guns.” Lifting your arms up, you flex just to show off a little with a playful smirk. Yelena narrows her eyes at you challengingly, but she knows if she flexes it won’t match the size of yours. You are enhanced after all. Natasha’s fingers delicately trail along your flexed biceps with a soft smirk, laughing when Yelena fakes a gag at the intimacy between the two of you.

“Gross.” She mumbles, clearing her throat and turning the conversation back to Natasha. “So, Natasha. What is your story, then?” You stay tuned in this time, eager to hear Natasha’s creative answer.

“I never let myself be alone long enough to think about it.” She shakes her head with a frown. Well, you can’t have that now, can you?

“I know your story.” You speak up after sighing, looking at her with a soft smile as she turns her head to you.

“Is that so?” She teases as your eyes glance over her. Her soft eyes, always gentle when she looks at you, her cute nose scrunched up a little when she gets shy under your intense gaze.

“You’re a lawyer. Big time. Look great in suits.” The smirk on your face turns into a wide smile when she blushes, closing her eyes and staring down at her beer bottle.

“Oh, God.” She groans out, letting out a soft laugh at the reminder of your trip mission.

“Married to a writer, a hipster writer at that.” She looks at you fondly, leaning her head on her hand, elbow on the table. Yelena watches the two of you curiously, reading your behaviour, your words, the way you’re gazing at each other.

“Moved to New Orleans so my hot, hipster wife can find inspiration for a new novel.” Natasha plays along, smiling when you shuffle closer to her, nose brushing against her cheek as you leave a gentle kiss on her heated skin.

“ Series of novels. Our story isn’t over yet.” You reassure her with a soft grin, seeing the hesitation and insecurity in her eyes. She thanks you with a gentle peck to your lips. It’s hard not to turn it into a deeper kiss, holding her soft cheek in your hand. But Yelena snorts in the background effectively pulling the two of you apart.

“You guys are so gay.” She lets out a ridiculously long laugh that has your eyes narrowing at her. It has to be a facade. You lean forward, elbows resting on the table challenging her with your stare.

“You know, behind that sarcastic persona of yours I think you’re secretly happy for us.” Your smirk falters when the laugh turns into a wheeze at your ridiculous statement. Natasha rolls her eyes, comforting you with her hand in yours squeezing gently, but you still push a little. You can see it in her hazel eyes. “Come on, admit it. You care.” Yelena wipes at the tears prickling the corners of her eyes, her cackle settling down as she turns her humorous expression into a serious one.

“Never.” There’s no choice but to back down after that, sighing and slumping in your seat. Have you really made that bad of an impression? Well, at least you’ll get along with her father since you both apparently eat like pigs. You haven’t heard many stories about him other than he’s a Super-Soldier and worked for Dreykov.

“Where you gonna go?” Natasha asks Yelena, breaking the comfortable silence. You sit back in your chair, mimicking Natasha’s movement just so your hand doesn’t leave hers. Yelena sighs heavily and that sarcastic persona drops just a little for you to see what’s underneath it all: fear. She’s scared, and it kind of reminds you of Wan-no. Not doing that today. Not with Natasha’s hand in yours - and you’re kind of extremely terrified she can literally feel or even hear you think about Wanda. You’re either hallucinating or her hand just tightened around yours.

“I don’t know. I don’t have anywhere to go back to, so I guess anywhere.” Natasha leans forward, breaking your hold on her to give Yelena a soft, encouraging smile. “Don’t.” The blonde scoffs.

“Don’t what?” Nat tilts her head, laughing softly at Yelena’s annoyed expression.

“You’re going to give me some big hero speech, I can feel it.” She predicts with a soft laugh of her own, hesitant, cautious, scared.

“Speeches aren’t really my thing. They’re hers.” She tilts her head to you. Well, she’s right. You’ve given quite a few speeches in your life, one of them being a main reason for Natasha dropping everything and coming with you. “It was more like an invitation.” 

“To go to the Red Room and kill Dreykov?” Yelena scoffs in disbelief, ridiculing Natasha’s idea. But the redhead keeps her intense gaze on her sister, refusing to back down.

“Yeah.” You take your cue to stand up, walking away from this conversation. You’re still hesitant about it and you never really jump into anything if you have a bad gut feeling. This isn’t your fight, and it’s all too dangerous. Part of you wants to try and convince Natasha that this is a terrible idea, that taking down a couple black widows is completely different to taking down Dreykov’s entire organisation. It won’t be easy and she might not come out of it alive. You might not come out of it alive; fighting Dreykov’s robot was a hard enough challenge in itself. If you couldn’t take them down, how are you going to take down everyone he has under his control?

“You don’t want to come.” Natasha’s soft voice comes from behind you. The beer bottle in your hand - almost empty now - clinks against the wall as you turn to face her. There’s a look in her eyes, shining bright, begging, pleading. Your heart aches in your chest, knowing how hard it was for her to even let you see those emotions, but your gut is telling you this won’t end well. And just the thought of losing her is something you don’t even want crossing your mind let alone becoming a reality.

“Nat, please, just think about what you’re trying to do here. This won’t be easy.” You approach gently with reason, reaching a hand out to her. But she steps back, letting your hand drop and hang by your side.

“Nothing I’ve come up against has been easy, but I still fight.” She pushes, voice cold and icy, refusing to break. Natasha’s made up her mind, but so have you. You won’t lose her.

“You might not come out alive this time.” You clench your jaw, teeth pressed against each other practically hissing the words out.

“Not if I have you.” Natasha’s shoulders drop a little, eyes softening when she looks up at you hoping you’ll give her the same look. But you break your gaze away with a tight jaw, looking somewhat humiliated.

“I couldn’t even beat one of his soldiers.” You whisper in frustration, mind flashing back to just how fucking hard it was fighting that masked figure. They could have killed you, but chose to keep you alive for whatever reason. To humiliate you, to get into your head, to turn you fucking crazy as a million thoughts of ‘why’ run through your mind.

“Y/N, we have to try. He’s torturing girls, trafficking them-” Natasha steps forward, reaching a hand up to rest on your cheek. Another hand snakes behind your neck, scratching in an attempt to calm you down. But your blood is boiling and you don’t even know where your anger is directed: at yourself, at Dreykov, at Wanda, at Natasha. You’re angry at Natasha for choosing another fight instead of choosing to live a normal life with you.

“I know, Natasha. There are thousands of evil pricks in this world, even more across the galaxies. You have to know when to pick your battles.” You slow your words down at the end, trying to get her to comprehend how fucking scared you are of how dangerous Dreykov is. But she steps back, a hurtful expression taking over her face.

“This is my battle. I fought it, I started it, and now I have to finish it.” Her tone is rock fucking solid at this point, refusing to break away from her plan. But that only angers you more. You’re pretty sure the commotion is gaining attention from the people around you, but right now your fear is being clouded by pure rage.

“You already did! You got out, Nat, why the hell would you risk being forced back in?” Your voice quivers as the beer bottle drops to the ground, shattering along with your fist against the brick wall. She flinches slightly and you can feel the anger slowly leave your body, replaced with guilt. Nat doesn’t let you take a step forward to apologise as she flinches back again, this time wrapping her arms around herself and looking up at you with wide, glossy eyes.

“You’ll never pick me, will you?” It comes out in a whisper and you don’t expect those words, that quick change in subject. You can’t make the connection, brows furrowing in confusion.

“What?” You breathe out.

“Do you remember why you joined the Avengers? After years of rejecting the team?” She pushes, gulping slightly like her next words are the hardest to say. “Wanda.” She says steadily. It’s an almost instinctive reaction for you to scoff and roll your eyes, letting out a humourless laugh. She never wanted to talk about Wanda, but chooses now to do it? After months?

“Oh, don’t start with Wanda, that wasn’t about her.” You argue back, defending yourself. You may have fucked up but she doesn’t need to throw it in your face at every given moment, coming up with fables in her mind of some grand love story between you and Wanda. You did not join the Avengers for her. You didn’t.

“Do not lie to me. It’s always been her. Fuck, Y/N, you came to this team for her before you even knew her, and you-you picked her! You murdered Meyer for her, you-you chose to save her …over me.” The pin drops, along with Natasha voice as it cracks. She turns pink with embarrassment, or anger, frustration, sadness. All you know is her eyes are wide, terrified, and overflowing with tears as she looks away from you. Almost like it’s too painful to have her eyes on you when she thinks, deep in her heart, that you’re only with her because you’re not with Wanda. “You’ll never pick me, Y/N.”

“Baby, I don’t know how many times I have to apologise for-” Your voice turns soft as you step towards her, hand shaking a little when you reach out. The cloud of your rage is slowly dissipating, revealing the fear in your veins and it’s overwhelming just how scared you are of losing her.

“I just don’t understand why I’m never enough.” Natasha whispers in a broken voice, turning her head away from you as she takes in a deep, shaky breath, lips trembling as she tries to maintain control over her emotions. Knowing she even thinks that has you shaking your head desperately, taking her face in your hands. She can’t resist your touch, no matter how hurt she is right now, but she keeps her eyes shut tight, pushing the tears down as best as she can. She can’t handle the intensity in your eyes right now, not when the doubt she’s been keeping at bay has finally come to the surface.

“What? You are. God, you’re everything to me, Natasha. I left the Avengers, I-I left Wanda, for you. To be with you, to wake up every morning with you in my arms.” You itch for her to believe you, leaning in to rest your forehead against hers. But she stays silent and keeps those eyes that you love hidden from you; your desperation only increases. “Natasha, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I-I just want to keep you safe. And going after Dreykov will get you killed. I can’t have that. I-I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lost you.” Your voice cracks this time and she opens her eyes. It’s like that shade of green just breathed air into your lungs. Your face visibility relaxes just a little, eyes fluttered in relief. “What would I do if I never get to-to hold your hand again?” your hand trails down to grip hers tightly, “and feel your lips against mine?” your lips tremble against hers, “and look into your eyes?” Her brows come together as your forehead clashes against hers gently, but desperately, trying to communicate how much you feel for her. Some days you wake up feeling like you exist purely for her, to keep her safe, keep her happy, make her smile and laugh and fill her heart with all the love she deserves. You’ll do anything to get her to believe you. “Nat, you’re my peace.” Pressing your head to hers, your nose brushing against hers, every single atom in your body fights, strains, tries to mould with hers just so she can feel what you feel.

“Then come with me.” Nat tells you exactly what will make her believe you in a soft voice, practically breathing the words out, just loud enough for you to hear her. After a moment of contemplation, eyes drifting through hers as she communicates what she needs from you, a sigh escapes your throat. You pull back slightly, dropping your arms to her curvy hips, stroking your thumb gently over her skin under her shirt.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” You take one last shot, but defeat is already in your eyes.

“I need to do this.” Natasha clears her throat, pulling away to wipe at the tears streaking down her cheeks. One last glance over her and a small laugh leaves your throat. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her and you’ll spend the rest of your life proving it, even if your expiration date is the end of this mission.

“Then I guess I need to do this too.” Natasha’s head snaps up, a small, hopeful smile sneaking its way onto her face.

“Yeah?” You nod your head, biting your lip gently, looking down at your feet. She steps into view, hand holding yours in thanks.

“Yeah. You know, I didn’t want to leave you. I wanted you to come with me, come back home. But-But you are my home.” Her small smile stretches into a wide one as she leans into you, clinging on as she hugs you tightly.

“I love you. So much.” She mumbles against your chest, voice shaky. It still surprises you how…open and vulnerable she can be sometimes when she wants to be. And you’re in awe with nothing but adoration in your heart as you leave a long kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, Natty.” You whisper back, closing your eyes to let her soothing lavender scent keep you grounded. She’ll be okay; you’ll be the one to make sure of it.

“Natty? Oh, that is hilarious.” Yelena teases, letting out a loud ‘HA’ as she laughs.

“Yelena!” Natasha yells in annoyance, but your touch keeps her calm as you roll your eyes at Yelena’s antics.

“Come on, I saw where he put the keys.” She calls out as she walks off, expecting the two of you to follow along. As if she’ll be the one leading this.

Oh, not this guy again.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yelena asks from beside you.

“Huh?” Oh. You said that out loud. “I-Nothing.” You reply, not having the energy to explain. You still don’t really have an answer, even after Natasha asked you a few days ago. There’s something unexplainable about his energy and you don’t really like it. And sure, you don’t like the smile Natasha gives him either. But whatever. If you want to keep your girl happy, you’ll have to tolerate Dick Mason. Sorry. Rick.

“Doesn’t seem like you like him.” She observes, turning her head to face you. Well, you should probably at least say thank you to the guy; he did get you a plane on short notice. But the question is, does he treat every client like this or is Natasha special to him? She’s very damn well special to you, and anyone would be a fool not to fall in love with her, especially people who get to see her smile. It never really happened often, and when it did it was a fake smile 90% of the time. Until you got to see underneath her ‘Black Widow’ all-professional superhero facade during your mission in New Orleans.

“I just don’t trust the guy.” And she’s known him longer. He’s been there for her, helped her during missions gone wrong, provided her with safety. He’s seen the real her. You suppose you should be grateful for that too.

“Why not?” Yelena asks as if she can read your mind and see the totally valid points suddenly popping up. He’s not a bad guy. He’s not. But there’s just something that irks you. Something underneath the surface.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.” You frustratedly reply, leaning forward to rest your arms on your knees.

“Ohhh,” The blonde drags it out, sighing as she sits back resting on her forearms, “you’re jealous.” She accuses, but her tone comes off factual. It’s her words that are accusatory. But you won’t give her the pleasure of getting a reaction out of you. An eye roll will do.

“You’re annoying.”

“I reckon they’ve slept together.” Yelena leans forward to whisper in your ear, smirking when she notices your jaw clenching tightly. You tear your gaze away from Natasha and Rick talking in the distance with smiles planted on their faces. Standing up and focusing on the grass on the ground, you kick your feet against it. They don’t move. Well of course they don’t fucking move, dumbass. You have to un-focus your hearing to force yourself away from Natasha and Rick’s conversation. God, he’s basically always flirting with her. It boils your fucking blood.

“No they haven’t.” You mumble as Yelena stands up with a huff to follow you, no doubt relishing in this opportunity she’s found to annoy the absolute shit out of you.

“I am a spy. I know how to spot these things.” She says with a nod and a proud smile on her face at her apparent discovery. But they’re just friends. And you know that, Natasha’s told you that, but you already know Yelena will likely say ‘oh, in denial, I see?’ if you tell her that. 

“I was a spy too.” Expertly, you divert the conversation away. Unsurprisingly, you’d rather talk about yourself than about Natasha’s past sex life right now.

“Hmm.” Yelena hums in a knowing tone to which you sigh.

“I assume you’ve read all there is to know about me.” You state, walking around the plane to inspect it. Yelena stops at the front, breathing onto the glass amusedly.

“All I know…is you have a long history. And that bores me. But it somehow interests my sister.” She begins, somehow insulting you and complimenting you in one go. “And…she’s happy with you.” She hesitates, sighing. The blonde turns to face you, a more serious expression on her face now. You can tell she’s trying to look intimidating and you decide to just play along. “She tried to protect me as much as she could when we were in the Red Room. My sister deserves to be protected too.” Yelena crosses her arms over her chest and stands a little taller but still comes up short against you. This isn’t something to fight over.

“I know. She is protected.” You counter in reassurance, clasping your hands together behind your back to emphasise your openness and honesty. Yelena’s the type of person to study body language excessively and you may be able to use that to your advantage and change her views on you.

“I don’t trust you.” Or not. With a final raised brow, you take a step back, already tired from the mind games.

“That’s fine. I don’t need your trust to put my life on the line for the woman I love.” With an open smile, you walk away and give Natasha a small grin when you see her walking towards the plane.

“I stand mistaken. You are interesting.” Yelena says from behind you, something that resembles pride in her tone. Perhaps even a little respect. “Oooh.” She exclaims, looking into the bag Rick drops to the ground. She picks up what looks like a sealed bag of food with an interested gaze.

“Oh, I stashed that like 5 years ago.” Natasha warns her but the blonde rips it open and takes a bite anyway. “How is it?” She asks with a knowing smirk, teasing her.

“It’s dry. It’s really dry.” Yelena chews with her mouth open, looking physically in pain as she tries to swallow. She ends up spitting it out instead, shuddering at the taste. You follow her up into the plane, taking a seat with your legs up on the bench across.

“It’s corrected, by the way.” You speak up just to fill the silence. Well, it’s more to have something else to listen to than Rick blatantly flirting with Natasha just outside. Yelena sighs as she sits in one of the front seats, playing around with the equipment she probably shouldn’t be touching.

“What is corrected?” She asks boringly, blowing air through her lips. You watch them flutter amusedly, shaking your head and turning your attention to your dirty boots.

“I stand corrected.” There’s dried blood all over; no one else can probably see it on the dark black colour, but you can. Your eyes zoom in, catching every small detail, even the splatter direction. You’re not even sure whose blood it is. This is your fault if you really want to blame someone; you should have known better than to run from who you are. You’ll always be a fighter. A soldier.

“But you did not correct me.” Yelena replies confusedly.

“I-True, but no one says ‘I stand mistaken’. That’s not a thing.” You let out a soft laugh but she stares right at you, not entertained whatsoever. You gulp under her intense gaze when she tilts her head to watch you intensely.

“What was a ‘thing’ before it became a ‘thing’? They are just words that people put together.” Yelena replies eloquently, a soft grin on her face when your face looks like it just took a screenshot. Shifting to the side, one of your legs drops, boot echoing loudly on the metal floor at impact. She does have a point. And you thought you were philosophical. Your mind naturally drifts to Wanda at the topic of philosophy.

“I-Sure.” You mumble, no longer interested in the conversation. It shouldn’t be this hard to not think about her. It shouldn’t. And it probably shouldn’t feel this wrong to do so either because you’re technically not doing anything wrong. Wanda was your best friend, and yes, she could have been more and maybe she was more to you, but you’re with Natasha now. Shouldn’t that matter the most?

“Now you stand corrected.” You don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking.

“Shut up.” You mutter, barely paying attention to her.

Now you can’t stop thinking about Wanda. You know the basics because Steve gave you and Natasha a number to contact just to keep in touch. In case of emergencies. Stay in touch, check in every month. That was the rule. And sometimes the conversation lasted longer than ‘I’m fine.’ Sometimes, Steve would tell you Wanda is fine too, fine with Vision. With him doing God knows what. Of all the people she could have run off with, it just had to be him? After she was the one begging you to leave Natasha? After she told you she loved you - over a phone call of all things? Maybe you were right when you first came back home after the mission. Maybe all Wanda needed was affection, attention, whoever it may be from. And with you gone, Vision was the next best option - or next available option.

Why is this even bothering you? It shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t bother you because Steve’s told you Wanda has asked about you. You know she still cares, even with this distance, so why is it so hard for you to admit that you still care too?

“I’ll make it up to you.” Natasha’s words from outside the plane manage to break through your thoughts and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. Who the hell says that to ‘just a friend’? Who? Not you, that’s for fucking sure. Those are flirty words said in a flirty tone and there are implications all over the place.

“Mhm. That’s what you say every time.” Rick teases right back, implying he deserves some sort of fucking reward for helping. Where’s your reward? For the torture, for the years spent trying to stabilise your mind just so you can be used as another pawn, another solider fighting a war for ungrateful people who would spit on you if they had the chance. Where the fuck is your reward?

“You okay, babe?” There she is.

“Yeah. I’m great.” You reply breathily, smiling softly at her. She lowers her brows a little in slight questioning, but you shake your head, silently telling her you’d rather not talk about it. Shifting your body, you get comfortable in your seat before take-off. Natasha takes her seat upfront, but stops before starting up the plane.

“Wait. I got suits.”

The suit didn’t fit you. Of course it didn’t. Your build is bigger, taller, musclier, and the suits were made for Natasha. Luckily, there was a spare white tank top, and although it’s not necessarily protective, it does smell good as opposed to the same clothes you’ve been wearing for a couple days now. But forget about that for a second. Because there she is, wearing a white suit, skin fucking tight. She lets Yelena braid her hair as she flies you to your destination and all you can focus on is the soft smile on her face. Natasha looks so…soft, and hopeful, happy despite the circumstances right now. Happy that her sister is talking to her at the very least. But she’ll never say that, not to your face, not to Yelena’s either. 

She’s always been a little closed off about that, about her fake family. Vulnerability isn’t something she’s used to, and whatever emotional ties she still had were indoctrinated out of her when she was forced back into the Red Room with Yelena. But you can see it in her smile. You can see how much she needs this: a sister, a family, a connection only she can have. You barely paid attention to the plan as Natasha and Yelena brainstormed. What plan is there other than attack, extract, escape? You’ll be needed to fight or shield; that’s all you’re ever really used for anyway.

“Y/N?” Natasha calls.

“Yeah, love?” You reply automatically, eyes still trained on your dirty boots. You’ve been flying for hours now, trying to get into the mindset of a soldier. A killer is what you wanted to say, but you-you’re not that anymore. You don’t have that instinct. Being with Natasha in peace for so long has somehow unconditioned that animalistic rage within you, and you figured that’s why you’ve been off your game. You’ve been staring at your bloodied boots for hours, trying to feel anything other than guilt, but it won’t come. You don’t want to fight. There is no pent-up frustration within you that needs to be released.

“I need you down there if that moron somehow messes up the plan.” Yelena snorts at Natasha’s command.

“Totally. At your service.” You say playfully, raising your hand to the side of your head. She looks at you with a quick turn of her head over her shoulder, giving you a teasing smile and a subtle lip bite.

“At ease.” She replies teasingly. A laugh escapes your throat as you shake your head, taking your last few moments of peace to stretch.

The floor is cold as you sit on it, folding your legs together. Resting your hands on your thighs, your eyes flutter close; you inhale deeply, closing off your senses more and more until you hear nothing, feel nothing, see nothing. Your shoulders relax as you exhale and inhale repeatedly, slowly, listening to your heartbeat settling. The pace and consistency comforts you, setting you at ease.

A distant sound has your head snapping a little, tilting to the side. A laugh. Soft, but happy. Untamed. Your eyes tighten, brows furrowing as you focus until the sound flows clearly into your ears. Your eyes snap open, wide, taking in your surroundings. The first thing you see is green. Light, playful, inviting. So, so warm. But you realise who you’re looking at, who you’re laying in bed with, hands roaming, eyes glistening, sun shining onto impossibly smooth skin.

“Red.” You whisper, blinking softly. But you’re not met with that warm green anymore, just the dull, metal inside of a rusty plane.

“What was that?” Natasha asks, not catching what you said. You shake out of your meditation, clearing your throat.

“Ready. I said I’m ready.” You are. You’ve been ready for months, long before you and Natasha finally got together. You’ve always been ready for her. So why did Wanda make an appearance while you were meditating to clear your mind and find…peace?

“You made a scene, didn’t you?” Natasha speaks into the comms, already fed up. You look out and see him rushing out into the snow, long hair, dirty clothes, and a beer belly. She said this dude is a Super-Soldier? “We’re getting you out of here.”

“It looks like he might need some help.” You observe, brows furrowing, wincing as he gets swarmed by other inmates.

“Let him suffer for a bit.” Natasha scoffs out, watching with nothing but professionalism in her expression. You haven’t seen that cold, heartless look in a while. It’s almost like the last thing she wants is to be here right now, which only confuses you as to why she was so intent on doing this in the first place. You watch him leaping through the air, raising your brow, slightly impressed by the sudden exhibit of his powers.

“Alright, he got this.” But all it takes is one guard and a little electricity for him to fall back, landing hard on his back. “Never mind.” You crack your knuckles, neck, arms, stretching to get ready to jump down to help.

“He’s never going to make it.” Yelena yells over the loud noise of the plane.

“Get me closer.” Natasha demands. Your head snaps to her, wide eyes showing her nothing but protest. What is up with her and diving headfirst into danger lately?

“Hey, no. I can go down there.” You offer yourself, already making your way to the open door. She stands up, stretching her neck before sighing at you.

“I’ll call for you if I need help.” You only frown in response, gripping onto her hand protectively. Natasha sees the concern written all over your face and leans up, forcing your eyes to lock onto hers. “I promise.” She whispers, leaning up to press her forehead to yours.

“Fine.” You grunt out, giving her an eskimo kiss with a permanent scowl on your face. Why was she making such a big deal about you coming with her if she won’t even let you help? It would be much easier, probably more efficient too for you to just go down there, knock whoever you can out, and grab him safely out of there.

“You are like an angry puppy.” Yelena makes fun of the look on your face after Natasha swings out of the plane. “Such a poser.” She shakes her head, scoffing as Natasha drops down perfectly, looking as elegant as ever.

“My poser.” You grin widely, hand resting on the side of the door, watching Natasha’s fight effortlessly. The way she moves always has you mesmerised, almost like she’s dancing. There’s a rhythm, a beat, a whole routine planned out like she knows exactly who is going to attack her from where. She’s always light on her feet as she twists her body, manoeuvring around every attacker around her with ease.

“She’s not a dog.” Yelena scoffs, turning her head around to glare at you. You gulp under her gaze, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

“I-I didn’t mean it like-” You let out a nervous laugh, trying to defend yourself against her words of attack. It’s not like you said anything wrong; you’re not an overly possessive person, it’s meant to be an endearing thing. But Yelena keeps her glare steady on you, even as guards start shooting at the plane. The warning sign starts glowing red and you try to point to it but Yelena interrupts you anytime you try to speak.

“What is this ownership? She is her own woman, Miss Crushy, I’m very disappointed you would say something like that.” She swings the plane around, trying to protect the plane as she shields it behind the bars of steel. It’s an intricate design they’ve build here, making it pretty difficult to escape if anyone were to try. “I know you are very old, but you live in the 21st century now! Have you not been taught about feminism?” You hear Natasha letting out a snort through the comms. With a frustrated sigh, you try and calmly defend yourself. This is all an obvious misunderstanding. Of course you’re a feminist!

“It’s meant to be endear-Oh, shit!” Before you can get your words out, Yelena manages to collide the back of the plane with the steel bars, effectively tripping you out of the plane. (It might be your fault for leaning against the open door). Falling through the snow, a long scream escapes your lungs until you land face first right next to Natasha’s feet. You groan as the thin strips of steel puncture your face, but they start healing the moment you sit up on your knees.

“Seriously!?” Natasha yells, arms flailing about angrily at Yelena as she glares up at her. “What are you doing? Are you kidding me?” She protests, but Yelena sends her a thumbs up and a tight smile.

“We’re all doing a really good job!” You take a moment to recover from the fall, watching as the plane takes fire. Your eyes widen when you see Yelena at the open door, kneeling with a launcher placed over her shoulder. This is a bad idea.

“What the hell is she doing?” You complain to Natasha who rolls her eyes. “Oh no.” You mumble, hearing the distant rumbling. “Oh no, no, no. Nat, we gotta hurry this up!” Everyone freezes as the rumbling gets louder. The guards look into the distance with wide eyes, knowing the tell-tale signs of the tragedy about to occur. The snow starts falling at a rapid pace, causing nothing but fear and chaos amongst the prisoners and guards. Looking up at the plane, you already know there’s nowhere near enough space to fit everyone. Hell, just you and Natasha’s ‘father’ would take up most of the space in the cramped back of the plane.

“Move your ass!” Natasha yells down, leaning over the railing. “Get us outta here!” She commands Yelena, watching as she flies the plane around to avoid the steel bars. There’s that familiar knit in her brow, a sign of her anxiety, her stress.

“Give me your arm.” You stretch out an arm to her. Nat holds onto your arm and waits for Yelena to make her way to you. With a grunt, you both start running with Yelena’s movements. It’s muscle memory for you to time your leap perfectly, having made swift escapes like this after assassinations during your HYDRA times. You cling onto the swinging rope, wrapping it around your wrist for extra stability. Using your other hand to hold onto Natasha, you tighten your grip, already terrified at the fast pace of the plane. A familiar ringing appears in your ears and you shake it off, pushing away your anxious thoughts, keeping your eyes down on Natasha. You won’t drop her. Even if you somehow do, you’ll leap down with her; without her, you have nothing. Yelena expertly flies the plane, swinging back around just in time for Natasha to reach a hand out and hold onto Alexei. That was his name, right? Why does it ring a bell in your head?

“Yes!” Yelena laughs out loud, filled with adrenaline at the victory. “I need some help up here!” You only let go of Natasha’s arm when she has a steady hold on the rope. Quickly, you climb up, falling onto the metal bench with a huff. Even you felt the cold there. Alexei yells in Russian out the door before slamming it shut with a loud laugh.

“Oh, that was exciting! Oh, I’m so proud of you girls.” He exclaims, but they ignore him. You’re not surprised by their hostility. “Oh, you can’t hear me, huh? Okay. Wow.” He steps forward after putting the headset on, breathless. You let out a snort when he groans as Yelena hits him in the face. It’s only then that he realises there’s another person on the plane. He turns around, eyes widening when he sees your face. “Wait.” He mumbles, stumbling through the plane to you. You let out a sigh, opening your eyes to greet him. Guess it’s time to meet the parents, huh?

“Wait.” You gasp out when your eyes land on him. You sit up quickly as he lets out a loud laugh, rushing forward, feet stomping so loudly you’re surprised there isn’t an Alexei-shaped hole in the bottom of the plane. “No way! Guardian!” You exclaim, completely shocked at the familiar face. The two of you laugh together as he pulls you into a tight hug. You knew there was something familiar there, even while watching him from a distance.

“Crusher! My dear, old friend, you have not aged one bit!” Him on the other hand…well, he’s not looking his best. You suppose you had the advantage of cryogenic freezing. If you can call it an advantage.

“You’ve gotten fat!” You tease, laughing loudly as he grumbles, sitting on the bench opposite to yours.

“You two know each other?” Natasha asks curiously, looking over her shoulder to see the both of you with matching wide smiles and a thumbs up towards her. She rolls her eyes, sighing as she turns back around. “This was unexpected.”

“Oh, Crusher and I have been in a few battles together. You know, back when I was a machine, Red Guardian, before it was taken from me!” He complains, growling, slouching down in defeat. With a frown, you move to sit next to him, nudging him with your elbow.

“Hey, come on, you’re still a machine, pal.” You chuckle, tapping on his beer belly. He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest self-consciously. “No, I’m serious! Did you see yourself out there? Those leaps? At your age? I’m impressed!” You grin as a bashful smile fights its way onto his face. You try your hardest to hold in your laughter.

“Really? I mean, I try to stay fit but it was hard, you know?” He complains with wide eyes, communicating his struggles with you. With an understanding frown and a nod of your head, you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, I know, don’t beat yourself up over it.” You catch Natasha’s slightly annoyed look as she spins her head around again. Your hand snaps away quickly, giving her a sheepish look. Why is she so annoyed with you today? Damn.

“You know, in prison there is nothing to do! Just eat, sleep, drink. You have no energy, you know? No fuel for exercise!” Alexei doesn’t take the hint, taking this opportunity to continue with his rant. You have a feeling he needs this though, needs a friend, hasn’t had a real one in who knows how long. Prison is a place to make allies, not friends. And allies tend to be the ones who ultimately give you the biggest betrayal of your life.

“I see you got ink now, though. Looking good, Alexei, I like the whole look. The beard, the hair. It’s almost hipster.” Your laugh gets caught in your throat when he suddenly leans towards you, finger pointed dangerously close to your face. You can smell the old food stuck in his beard, the alcohol on his breath, the distinct smell of an unwashed man. The only option you have is to stop breathing.

“You take that back. I am not a hipster.” He threatens in a low voice, eyes wide and insecure. You breathe out a nervous laugh, leaning forward and holding onto his hand. You pull it down to his lap gently, treading carefully.

“Okay, buddy, I'll take it back. It’s okay.” You reassure him, holding your laugh in. Maybe you shouldn’t have made the fat joke earlier. It’s clear you triggered some of his insecurities.

“I am not. I am not a hipster. I-I am Red Guardian! I could have been bigger than Captain America himself!” He sits himself up, straightening his back. It cracks loudly as he does so and he hunches forward again, groaning slightly in pain. You snort slightly but hide it with a cough when he glares.

“Sure! Sure, bud.” Natasha spins around and raises a brow at your gentle tone. “He’s sensitive. I think he needs a nap.” You tell her with a smirk, noticing the way she clenches her jaw.

“Seems like you two have a good relationship.” She says through gritted teeth. It’s not hard to sense the hostility in her tone. With the things Alexei had done to them, the anger is justified. But why is she angry at you?

“Best pals!” Alexei exclaims with a hard slap to your back. You almost fall off the bench at the impact but manage to collect yourself, chuckling bashfully.

“Best pals.” You laugh, gulping when Natasha sends you a glare. She takes her headset off, making her way over to the two of you. There’s a serious expression on her face and you know she’s done with casual catch-up now.

“And you two?” Alexei asks how you and Natasha know each other with a smile on his face. When Natasha answers, it takes both Nat and Yelena to stop him from trying to throw you out of the plane. 

You stand back and let Natasha get down to business, interrogating Alexei until he spills whatever he knows about the Red Room. When he reveals Melina would be the one to know where Dreykov’s Red Room is, the course is set to St. Petersburg. Alexei’s reassurance that you’ll get there is proven wrong when you run out of fuel and have to walk the rest of the way. Well. At least you can take this opportunity to walk through the greenery and finally take a moment to simply breathe.

Chapter Text

“It’s different.” Wanda observes in a quiet voice, hands folded in front of her. Her slender fingers play with each other, fidgeting as she walks slowly, her steps light, at times feathery.

“How so?” You ask curiously, your eyes only trained on her while hers are trying to take in as much as she can of her surroundings. The sun decided to come out today, shining brightly spreading a little positivity and vitamin D to the depressed citizens of New York.

“Just…everything. It’s different.” She replies, her guard still high up. It’s concrete, a thick wall-no, a tower as high as a skyscraper, built defensively in her mind. You can’t see it, not like she can see the one in your head, but you know it's there. With a soft but heavy sigh, you catch her attention and come to a stop in the middle of the walk path.

“Wanda, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on up there.” Her bright teeth peek out to bite down onto her bottom lip nervously, drawing your attention there. But your eyes snap back up to hers and the fast movements force her impossibly light green eyes to meet yours too. “Come on. You promised Wednesdays would be ours.” A teasing smile snakes its way to your face and a bashful one mirrors yours quickly. A deep, light blush spreads across her exposed neck, sliding up to her cheeks.

“The air.” She breathes out, turning quickly to proceed with the impromptu walk you decided to go on today. Frozen in your place for a moment - just a short moment as her slender hand rises to hook a lock of hair behind her ear, the sun shining down brightly, her rings glinting under its intense light - you practically jump forward when you realise you’ve been staring, taking a couple long steps to catch up with her.

“Yeah?” You whisper, urging her to elaborate. Her throat bobs as she swallows heavily, letting out a shaky breath. But your hand moves on autopilot, brushing against hers. It’s enough to comfort her, encourage her to talk.

“When-When I was growing up…” She stutters a little before reassuring herself that she can be vulnerable around you. “It was always just…dust. Gunpowder. Chaos. On the rare occasion that Pietro and I would find a small garden or just a hint of nature, we would spend as long as we could, just sitting. Breathing. But no matter what, the hint of-of death was always there.” She shudders slightly. You frown at the sadness on her face and decide to take the risk. Wanda’s hand brushes against yours again and this time you hold onto it, smiling softly when she readjusts to intertwine her fingers with yours. And it fits. It just fits. You come to a stop again, pulling her closer to you, looking down as she looks up. Her eyes drift across your face, seeing no evil intention, no judgement, no sympathy - which is one thing she hates with a passion.

“Well. He’s here with you. Right here.” A warmth settles between the two of you as your finger presses against her chest, feeling her heart beating, pounding faster at your touch. “And he’s smelling the fresh, gunpowder-free air with you. Breathing it in, with you.” Wanda takes a sharp breath, eyes widening slightly for a millisecond before she stares at your lips with now hooded eyes. Her delicate hand comes up to hold your rougher hand still on her chest, squeezing tightly in appreciation.

“Thank you, Y/N.” She whispers, eyes closing as she tilts her head up, soaking the sun, breathing the air into her lungs deeper than before like she’s breathing for two now.

“You gotta stop thanking me for being a decent person.” You whisper, laughing breathily, a little hypnotised by the content smile on her face. You’re used to seeing an intense sadness within her, but it’s slowly disappearing as she starts to look for the positive in life. She’s understanding that moving on doesn't mean leaving his memory behind.

“Not everybody would do what you do for me. You’re special.” She whispers, dropping her hand. Yours rises to the back of your neck, scratching timidly, not sure what to do with the compliment.

“Come on-” You laugh out modestly, but she interrupts you before you can finish.

“To me.” This time you’re the one who takes in a sharp breath at her words. You try to play it off, turning your head away from her intense gaze. But you bounce right back like a magnet, a boomerang, attached to those eyes no matter how far you go.

“Yeah?” You breathe out in question.

“Yes.” She reassures, leaning forward as you lean down. She buries her face in your neck, letting you wrap your arms around her protectively. Cinnamon is slowly becoming your favourite scent.

“I think Pietro would also be smelling the hotdog stand a block away from here.” You whisper playfully as your stomach growls in hunger, the two of you laughing together at the loud interruption.

“He does not have your special smelling abilities. But I am a little hungry. You’re buying, since you invited me, right? That is the courting custom here?” Wanda teases as she lets go, walking backwards with her hands locked together behind her back this time. Completely open, vulnerable, playful - a huge contrast to how she was just a few minutes ago.

“I-Uh-” You stutter nervously until you see her face scrunched up as she snorts, trying to hold her laughter in.

“I’m messing with you.” She laughs out loud, freely, openly as you step forward with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Oh, so you have a sense of humour now?” You tease back with your arms crossed over your chest and a raised brow.

“Maybe it’s always been there, but now you’re pulling it out of me.” Wanda turns her back to you as she walks, but she looks over her shoulder when she notices you haven’t followed. “You coming?” Her voice sounds a little more distant as she holds her hand out. You reach forward but the path between the two of you stretches impossibly long. She’s too out of reach but her rings stay glinting from the sunshine, shining so bright it’s almost blinding. Your eyes close tightly at the intrusion, ears ringing for a moment before your eyes snap open again.

“Y/N?” A hand waves over your face, pulling you out of your daydream. Green eyes catch yours and it takes you a second or two before realising they’re a little darker, a forest green. Natasha.

“What?” You mumble, dropping the hand that was reaching out in front of you.

“You coming?” She asks, frowning at your dazed expression. You brush your hands over your dirty bottoms, clearing your throat and nodding rapidly.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Sorry.” You chuckle before walking forward with Natasha hot on your heels. You notice Alexei and Yelena in the distance, far from where you’re standing, and realise you must have kept Natasha back a little. You must have zoned out while they were arguing because the last thing you remember is staring at the purple flowers as Alexei asked if he had done something wrong.

“Babe? I know this is hard for you, and-” She starts talking once she catches up to you. You slow down for her, sighing as you shut down her attempt to apologise. She’s done nothing wrong in your eyes; you understand this is what she needs to do and you want to be there with her every step of the way. Even if you’d rather be in your caravan watching cringe-worthy shows and drinking Coke.

“Nat, it’s ok-”

“Let me finish without interrupting me. Please.” There’s a little hint of annoyance in her tone so you back down, staring at your boots as you walk a little slower.

“Right. Sorry, babe.” You give her a small, apologetic smile that tugs at her heart strings. Her hand finds its way into yours, swinging a little to try to keep the conversation more casual than serious.

“Routine has become a big part of your life, and it always has been. It brings you comfort and stability, I know that. So, I understand how hard this is, how hard my-my problems have made this for you, and I guess I just wanted to thank you.” She ends on a positive note, flashing you a soft, shy smile that warms your heart. With a gentle sigh, you come to a stop, holding onto both of her hands as you pull her flush against you. Your head drops to press her forehead to yours, smiling when she can’t resist pecking your lips quickly.

“My love, you don’t need to thank me for being a decent person.” You whisper, but your eyes widen a little, realising the words you said mirror the ones you said to Wanda. “I mean-for being there for you. I want to. Be here for you, I mean. Always.” You stutter, playing it off with a gentle kiss. Natasha sighs against your lips, relishing in the rare moment of quiet and alone time you two have gotten recently. Her hand scratches the back of your neck, effectively triggering a gentle moan to escape your lungs. She breathes you in, her lips wide as she smiles into the kiss. It’s skin on skin at this point, both of you smiling too widely to kiss properly.

“You’re so good to me. Too good sometimes. I don’t-” She mumbles against your lips when you finally pull away.

“Don’t even think about saying what you’re about to say.” You interrupt with a stern glare. She’s worth it. She’s worth every ounce of love you have to give, anyone has to give. She deserves it all.

“I guess this is what was inevitably coming for me. What I did to Dreyokv’s…to her, it’s unforgivable. It had to be done, but I just, I can’t forgive myself for it.” She wraps her arms around herself protectively. Natasha can open up to you when she wants to, but she won’t always be comfortable with it. Like now. What she doesn’t like is when her past, her mistakes, the blood on her ledger is exposed to you. She hates it, because that fear of rejection will never leave her. She’s already felt rejected by you and deep down you know she may never truly forgive you for it. She may say it, may even feel it sometimes, but her heart? Her heart will always fear you. And that’s something you both have to find a way to live with if you want this to work.

“You did that as a scared girl escaping a predator. You did what you had to do, did what needed to be done. You tried to take him down when no one else had the balls to do so. No one can take that away from you, you hear me?” Your hands squeeze her shoulders, your persuasive tone leaving no room for debate. She takes in a shaky breath, nodding her head to your words. You can tell she’s keeping the tears at bay, not wanting to cry unless she’s in the comfort of her home, your home. She already feels too exposed here, especially after your argument earlier in public - in front of Yelena, too.

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. God, you’re always right.” She breathes out a laugh, letting your hands rest on the curves of her hips. Guilt fills your chest when you hear her words, thinking back to how many times Wanda has managed to pop into your mind recently.

“Not always. I’ve made one bad decision I can think of.” Your steady voice turns into a quiet, guilt-ridden tone causing Natasha to release a heavy sigh. Her eyes drop down to your lips, lower, until they’re trained on the ground. God. She can’t even look you in the eye at the mere mention-no, just the implication of the time you chose Wanda in the basement of Meyer’s shop.

“Y/N…” She trails, a warning in her voice. But you push anyway, swallowing and swallowing but it feels like there’s a ball in your throat and it won’t go down, not until you say what you have to say.

“Natasha, I-”

“Hurry up, lesbians!” Yelena’s loud voice calls out, echoing through the open land ahead of you. You and Natasha pause in your tracks, slowly moving your heads until your amused eyes connect. Laughter bursts between the two of you, tension long gone.

“Okay, that one was funny.” You mumble, letting Natasha pull away from you to start catching up with Yelena and Alexei. That same glint appears again, sun shining down on the numerous piercings scattered around her ear. She turns her head over her shoulder, smiling brightly at you, hair shining like flames and all you can think when you rush towards her open hand is thank God you can’t get burnt.

When you finally reached Melina’s house, you stood there awkwardly as her and Alexei greeted each other looking into each other’s eyes intimately. It was uncomfortable to say the least, even for Nat and Yelena who spent those agonisingly long minutes looking at anything but their ‘parents’ making sex eyes at each other. You tried to argue with Nat, telling her it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to intrude on their family time together. But she insisted - everyone knows how hard it is to say no to Natasha when she insists. After Alexei came out of the bathroom in his suit that was way too tight on him, you patted him hard on the back, earning a choked groan, and then took your turn in the shower.

Figuring it would be best to take your time so that they’d have their moment to catch up, you spent your sweet time peeling your dirty clothes off your body. Scars don’t stay on your skin anymore - not fresh ones, at least - but what you now count as ‘scars’ are the splatters and lines of dry blood littering your body. Whether it’s your blood or not, it’s still something that scars you, something you’ll never forget. It’s impossible to forget the pounding of a fist, the brutal kick of a heavy boot, the loud clap of a gunshot. Washing the evidence away is purely physical; it still stays, permanently marking your insides, your mind, your body. You can still see them, even as you wash your hands in the sink, hot water cleansing the blood and dirt from under your fingernails.

You can’t put the blame on Natasha, or Yelena, or Alexei. This is something they need to do, and what you need is to prove to Natasha that you do love her. Undying love, right? The only person to put the blame on is yourself. You’ve gone soft. This used to be relatively easy for you, just a mission, just another fight. But you’ve gone rusty after spending months in a caravan with Natasha, focusing on strengthening your mind and heart over anything else. It’s priority, it should always be priority, but that also means you now have more empathy than you did before.

Raising your head up, you sigh as you catch your eyes in the mirror. Swirls of dark red, almost black, dried blood twirl from over your left brow down to your cheek. The right side of your face isn’t free from the scars either, your cheekbones dripping blood from a left hook you weren’t able to block. Clenching your jaw as you stare at yourself with anger, frustration, and a chest heavy with guilt, your fingers grip the edge of the sink. 

God. You were out. Maybe it’s your fault for giving yourself that hope, fooling yourself into thinking you could ever get out. This is your life. You were made to fight, and no matter how desperate you are to go back, there’s nothing to go back to. The person you were before the Avengers, before Meyer, before HYDRA, before you made the choice to work for the government in your youth. That person doesn’t exist anymore. This is who you are. Blood and dirt and scars that will never wash away no matter how hard you scrub your skin.

The moment you feel your heartbeat speed up, you turn the water to the coldest it can go, slowly sitting in the shower, legs crossed together. You haven’t had a breakdown in a while and you’d rather end it before it can even begin. The freezing water keeps you calm, keeps you grounded. The ringing in your ears don’t get given the chance to deafen you as you let the cold overtake your senses. It’s all you can feel and it’s all you want to feel right now. It’s all you deserve to feel after leaving that prison, leaving those people, those guards, soldiers - heck even the prisoners - to die in the cold. That’s what you deserve.

“You’re cold.” Natasha flinches when your arm wraps around her shoulder, pulling her in to leave a kiss on her head. Your eyes roll, smirking as she jumps up when you poke her side just under her chest. “Stop.” She demands with a glare.

“Why?” You challenge with a raised brow, poking again.

“Y/N!” She yelps, jumping away from you. A cackle escapes your throat when her lips turn into a pout. Paired with the glare, she looks ridiculously cute, especially with her outfit.

“The Black Widow, huh? So scary.” You tease, pulling her closer to you by her hips. She pushes against your chest playfully, but she keeps her hand there, trailing it down to press her gentle fingertips against your rough abs. “Missed me?” You lower your voice, eyes drifting to her plump lips as heat travels to your core.

“Maybe a little.” She teases, whispering as she leans up to press her lips against the corner of yours. “Not my fault someone spoiled me.” Her fingers dig into the back of your neck hard enough for you to feel it. You struggle to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head at the feeling.

“Well, there wasn’t much to do in a van in the middle of nowhere. Had to keep you interested somehow, right?” Natasha chuckles, deep and raspy as she leans up on her tiptoes as you lean down, nose brushing against yours.

“We can’t go back after this. But we’ll find someplace else. I promise.” Nat does well to reassure you - like she always does - with a soft kiss, completely tame if it wasn’t for the subtle hint of her hot tongue brushing against your bottom lip. You chase after her lips but she moves back, tutting with a teasing smirk.

“Yeah? You won’t leave now that you’re not getting your daily orgasm?” You quirk a brow, bursting out into laughter when she blushes immediately, smacking her hand against your chest.

“Stop it.” She looks around the kitchen, paranoid that her family could have heard what you said. You can’t help scoffing a little in disbelief.

“Oh, so you can tease me but ‘orgasm’ makes you shy?” You call her out, tilting your head. The blush stays deep on her cheeks as she looks down, biting her bottom lip shyly. “You’re an interesting one, Romanoff.” Your heart swells a little when she looks up at you, green eyes bright and wide, before leaning up and tugging your hair to pull you down into another kiss. She sighs against your lips when you press her up against the counter, body hot against hers. Touching Natasha just lights a fire within you that can’t be tamed, can’t be watered down.

“When you’re done seducing my daughter, would you like some coffee?” That will do. Melina’s voice breaks the two of you apart. Natasha practically jumps away from you, biting your lip hard in the process. You wince at the pain for a moment, wiping the blood off before letting out a nervous chuckle, rubbing your hands over your bottoms. Meeting Melina’s gaze, you swallow the lump in your throat. That intimidating look…well, it’s clear where Nat gets it from.

“Sorry. Sure. Thank you.” You stutter a little, your hand rubbing the back of your neck. God, you don’t know what to do with your hands - are they sweaty because suddenly they feel sweaty. Melina raises a perfectly plucked brow at you, already getting started on boiling some water for the coffee.

“Relax, I won’t bite.” Her words tease in a monotone voice.

“That is a lie. She bites.” Alexei calls out, scoffing. His heavy footsteps echo as he walks into the kitchen, already chewing on a chicken leg he stole from the dinner table.

“Shush.” Melina rolls her eyes at his antics. His eyes widen as he points the chicken bone towards her in annoyance.

“She treat me like dog! See?” He exclaims to you but you raise your hands up, calling yourself Switzerland in this matter. You’d rather not get between these two.

“Don’t act like one then.” She teases him with a soft smirk before handing you a mug of hot coffee. Natasha takes it from your hands, manoeuvring around Melina to add a teaspoon of sugar to your coffee. Just how you like it. You give her a small peck on the forehead as she hands your mug back to you, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. You missed a spot of…blood or dirt or something. “Now. Alexei says you two used to fight together?” Melina speaks up after carefully watching your interaction with Natasha.

“Yeah, back in the 80s.” You answer, nodding your head and taking a sip. This is probably the last thing you need right now. Rest, sleep, a bed - heck, any surface will do - and a cushion is what you need, especially before an inevitably exhausting fight.

“It was near the end of the Cold War. I tried to-ugh-you tell the story; I hate telling it. It brings me nothing but shame.” Alexei interrupts you before impulsively interrupting himself, hanging his head down with a frown.

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. Chin up, pal.” You tease, smacking a hand against his back. It helps his posture fix up a little but he still grumbles, heading over to sit on the dinner table. Everyone follows suit, taking their respective seats. The only seat left for you is at the head of the table, opposite Alexei. After sitting down, you clear your throat and continue the story, seeing nothing but curious eyes around the table watching you. “Alexei was determined to prove himself to Dreykov and the nation - by the way, all I knew was his ‘boss’, I didn’t know it was Dreykov until today.” You turn to Nat as you add on that last part. “His personal mission was always to restore Russia to its former glory. So, he came up with the idea of forming a group.” Yelena pours you a shot of vodka but chugs it herself when she realises it won’t affect you at all.

“Dark Ocean Society. Cool name, right?” Alexei boasts, a smirk on his face, mouth stuffed with food.

“Totally. Not lame at all.” Yelena sarcastically replies, taking her own messy bite of chicken; she clearly takes after her Alexei. Melina’s gaze stays somewhat reserved from across the table, eyeing you up as you tell the story casually.

“It was just us, Fantasma, and-” You struggle to remember, finger scratching the top of your head for a moment before Alexei bursts out.

“The Soviet Supremes joined too! Those bastards ruined my operation, stole it from me-” He smacks his fist against the table and it surprisingly withstands the power. You interrupt him, reasoning with him before he ends up breaking something.

“If it weren’t for them, S.H.I.E.L.D. would have caught us a lot sooner. It was actually my first interaction with S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA only sent me to Japan with Alexei because at the time it was in their best interest for the US to lose the Cold War. But S.H.I.E.L.D. turned Fantasma against us and, well, our mission failed but we managed to get away.” In reality, you got away first, already making a plan for an escape when you saw the first tell-tale signs of Fantasma’s betrayal. You were a HYDRA soldier at the time and you were always told to protect their investment: you. You’d heard that Alexei escaped too, and truth be told you were relieved to hear that. The two of you got along pretty well and he seemed like a good person - as good as a person can be as a Super-Soldier killer working for the KGB.

“I failed to create a war between Russia and Japan. And Dreykov sent me on that boring Ohio mission as punishment. No offence.” He turns to Yelena and Natasha who have very different responses. Nat simply nods her head in understanding while Yelena clenches her jaw with eyes that widen just a little. “And what did he do after that? Locked me in a cage like a goddamn animal for the rest of my life.” He growls and Melina holds onto his hand before he can attempt to break her table again.

“Well, you’re out now. It’s never too late to start, uh, working on yourself again.” Your eyes trail to his belly straining against the suit, giving him a teasing grin.

“Hey!” He protests, leaning forward with an accusing finger pointed at you. But he can see no obvious ‘flaws’ or changes within you. Nothing has changed physically, but since the 80s till now, your trail of bodies has most likely doubled. That heavy weight of guilt makes a noticeable change on the inside and you’d rather not have a deep conversation with him about that.

“Mmm, still good.” Melina mumbles, biting her bottom lip as her eyes trail over his body. He brightens at that, sitting up a little straighter as he smirks at her.

“The Red Guardian still got it.” He reaches a hand under the table to grip her thigh and she giggles at his touch, turning putty in his hands.

“Gross.” Yelena fake gags and Natasha turns her head away with a frustrated sigh. You know just from that sound that she’s about to make them cut the bullshit and go about with her plan of interrogating Melina.

“Hey, I’m gonna step out for a sec to call Steve.” You whisper to her, standing up to make a swift exist.

“Okay. Tell him I said hi.” She sighs, the furrow in her brow softening when you lean down and leave a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Will do, baby.” You whisper with a smirk before making your way out of the house. The door closes gently behind you and you’re hit with fresh air. Taking a moment to breathe it in, your mind drifts to your flashback of Wanda. She loved going on walks with you, hikes, anywhere that involved being around nature. It was almost like she wanted to soak in as much as she could before she’d be pulled away from it again by another war, another fight, another mission. It’s hard to remain positive as an Avenger, having to constantly be alert and ready for whatever threats there are to this world, but Wanda managed to find a good balance. Wanda helped you find a good balance. And now as you’re struggling to not get overwhelmed and overtaken by your emotions, she’s helping you yet again, reminding you to take a moment to yourself, take a moment to be with nature. It serves as a reminder of what you’re fighting for. Some of the people of this planet might not deserve your sweat and blood, but the planet itself, these trees and flowers and endless mountains have never hurt anyone.

‘Everything okay?’ Steve picks up immediately after one ring, voice filled with worry. You sigh, raising your head up to squint at the sun as it glares down on you.

‘We’re…surviving.’ You reply, smiling as you hear him scoff at your response.

‘Sounds cryptic.’ He answers suspiciously. You can already see the raised brow on his face. With a sigh, you decide to just come out with it and tell him the truth. Maybe he can offer some advice for you.

‘We were attacked. Turns out the Red Room is still active. Nat wants to take Dreykov down.’ You reveal, a hand on your hip and the other holding the phone to your ear. Pacing around the garden slowly, you take your time to appreciate the little beds of flowers Melina has planted. You can picture yourself moving to the middle of nowhere - in a house, not a caravan this time - and planting your own bed. The only worries you’d have is taking care of your little garden. When you envision that, you see a litter of yellow flowers. Wanda’s face used to light up anytime she’d see a yellow flower, saying it reminded her of Pietro’s hair. The first time he dyed it, it came out a horribly vivid shade of yellow and she never let him live it down.

‘Is that what you want to do?’ Steve cautiously asks, not knowing whether you’re ready to talk about this yet. You stutter a little, taken aback by the way he cut straight to the point.

‘I-I want to be with her.’ There’s no hesitation in your statement; you want to be with Natasha. You’ve always wanted to be with Natasha. But Steve senses something below the surface and it kind of annoys you how he always seems to just…know. You’ve only exchanged a couple of words and he can already tell you’re bothered by something. It’s frustrating how easily he can read you - that makes it incredibly hard to keep things from him.

‘Wanda’s been asking about you. More than usual.’ He speaks up after a moment of silence. Your heart pumps a little faster just at the sound of her name being spoken aloud. Your lips drop into a frown at the second part of that statement. More than usual? What could that mean?

‘Is she okay? Does she need help or-’ Steve interrupts you before you can spiral into worry.

‘She says she has a…feeling. You should call her, Y/N.’ You clench your jaw at his suggestion. You haven’t called her once since you left despite having her contact number from the very start. And she hasn’t called you either. You know Steve’s given her your number - he must have gotten annoyed at the number of times she’d ask how you were - yet she still hasn’t pressed the button. Why should you be the one to call?

‘I shouldn’t.’ You respond in a cold voice. She’s the one who hurt Natasha, who lied to you for months, who manipulated you, deliberately confused you before you were due to leave for New Orleans. On paper, it looks so fucking calculated that you’re sure she must have planned some of it. What she did couldn’t have been a mistake. Mistakes are not premeditated.

‘Is this your way of proving your loyalty to Natasha or something? You know you can be friends with Wanda, right?’ Steve’s tone takes on a frustrated one, speaking just a little louder through the phone.

‘Steve, it’s more complicated than that.’ You reason, keeping your voice calm despite your frustration in his involvement. He has no right to place himself in the middle of this; your love life is none of his business. This is the issue with him being able to read you. Steve has this need to fix everything that he can, even things that don’t concern him. It makes him feel useful - and deep down you know he needs to constantly be on or else he’ll think too hard about the fact that he doesn’t feel like he belongs in this generation.

‘I know, Y/N, but we’re all scattered over the world and all we have is each other. We’re already divided.’ His sigh sounds heavy and you hear a thump, possibly his hand, his head, something hitting a hard surface.

‘Okay, okay. I can practically see the stress lines on your face right now, bud.’ You tease, letting out a soft chuckle when you hear him breathe out a laugh. You imagine his hand rubbing over the creases on his forehead right now, trying to reassure himself that everything will be okay. You know he feels guilty about the whole ‘break up’ of the Avengers. Everyone had to choose sides and that automatically meant the pressure of a loss fell onto the leader. Onto him. And everyone’s scattered, everyone’s hiding, everyone’s running and he can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

‘Sorry. I’m sorry, this is just-’ He starts but stops himself as he sighs. The subtle creaking of a chair on the ground tells you he’s either taking a seat or standing up.

‘It’s hard, I know, but you-we signed up for this. I guess.’ He can only grumble in acceptance. It was what you all signed up for the moment you decided to become part of a team of, well, superheroes. Working around the law, around the government, acting as - essentially - free agents of war. There were bound to be consequences at some point.

‘Do you need me to help?’ He asks but he knows you don’t need any. Otherwise, you would have contacted him sooner with an SOS.

‘No, we got this. I think Nat needs this. Needs to do this alone.’ You glance back to the house when you hear a subtle bang and some yelling. Family feud, you suppose - you’d feel wrong focusing your hearing onto that when it’s personal to them.

‘Got it. Keep in touch, okay?’ His voice lowers into a sincere tone and you can’t help the soft smile on your face. You hug your arm around yourself, missing the big, comforting hugs he used to give you.

‘Will do, Cap.’ You chuckle. ‘Hey, I really miss beating your ass.’ You tease with a smirk.

‘Says the mat warmer.’ You gasp, taking fake offence to his words. ‘I miss you too, Y/N.’ He admits after the laughter calms down.

‘Awh, you have a heart.’ You squeal, laughing when he groans in annoyance.

‘Bye.’ He hangs up and you can practically see the roll of his eyes. As nice as it is to hear his voice, you really do miss seeing him, sparring with him, just being around him. Steve has always been there for you, taking care of you, making sure you use ‘positive and productive’ outlets rather than ‘negative and destructive’. He can understand how it feels to be frozen in time - maybe not the ‘over and over again’ part of it - and waking up in a different decade, missing god knows how much of human progression and advancements. At some point it became almost robotic for you. You’d be brought back and you already knew you were in a different time just based off the way people looked, their hairstyles, their clothes. You learnt to read people pretty quickly. 

The first thing you’d do in your cell is read. Some of the guards or doctors would be kind enough to sneak you a new book or two. It wasn’t all bad after the experiments and torture part was over. The only time you would really suffer is if you ever fell out of line. They’d try to ‘reset’ you. But your memories would almost always come back at some point, usually in fragments that turned you frantic and confused. It just took a while for Meyer to come back into your mind. You still wonder how she did it, how she managed to block your memories and activate them at will. How she managed to speak into your mind, read your mind. You have no recollection of her experimenting on herself; the only memories you have of her powers is her using them on you, never with an explanation of how.

Taking a deep breath in for a little extra courage, you pull your phone out again and scroll down until your finger hovers over Wanda’s name. Steve’s right. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague and part of the reason why is Natasha. You’re not blaming her at all, but you don’t want to hurt her feelings. The last thing you want is for Natasha to doubt your love for her more than she already does. But Wanda is your best friend. It runs deeper than your supposed feelings for her, deeper than her feelings for you. You were all she had at some points and you can say the same about her. It’s natural, normal for you to miss her, and you shouldn’t be made to feel bad for it.

But before you can go through with it, a distant sound catches your attention. Your head tilts, ears pricking up as you focus your senses. A couple miles away maybe, still not visible, to you at least - despite the fact that it should be according to your estimations. A plane, stealth mode maybe, not too loud to draw attention. It’s only seconds later that you see the plane come out from behind a distant mountain. But it’s rapidly approaching and you can’t hear a thing from inside apart Yelena and Alexei singing together. You can’t hear Natasha, or Melina.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you run through the garden trying to make it to the front door, not realising how far you had drifted off during your call. The distinctive sound of guns clicking into place has you sprinting faster, but the moment your hand touches the door handle, you feel a sharp needle pierce into your back. Freezing in your spot, you let out a scoff, reaching behind you and pulling it out. It crushes in your hand easily. Really? They think one little needle will stop you? By the time you turn around, fuming, smoke practically coming out of your ears, you see at least 10 guns pointed towards you. They all simultaneously shoot at you before you can even take a step forward as you contemplate how you could take them all down.

Your head feels heavy, eyes suddenly begging to be closed. Dropping to your knees with a groan, you attempt to push back against the door, banging, warning Natasha. But your eyes close before you can help, darkness putting you to sleep.

“Nat…” You mumble the moment you start stirring awake, your mind actively jumping as you remember the planes, the guns, the tranquilizers. Nothing is clear to your ears, just murmuring voices and a buzzing of sorts. But you open your eyes wide, blinking, observing your environment. This cell is definitely nicer than the ones you’ve been in before - you can tell from the fact that you have a mattress or pillow of sorts as opposed to the floor. With your mind still groggy, you stumble off the bed, crawling to the glass doors and begin pounding against them. “Natasha.” You call for her a little louder this time, blinking as your fists bang against the glass harder as you gain your senses back a little. But it won’t budge, no matter how hard you hit it. Panic fills your chest at the thought that the people outside the house got to her. “Fuck, no, no please.” You strike harder but the material won’t crack. You can hear Alexei’s voice clearer now to your left as he apologies to Nat, softly sobbing. She’s here, probably in another cell, the one to Alexei’s left. “I’m coming, baby!” Stumbling up to your feet, you move to the back of the cell, taking a deep breath before running forward with all your speed and power. But before you collide with the surface, the door slides open too fast for you to stop yourself. You let out an embarrassing high-pitched yelp as you smash into the wall.

“Idiot.” Natasha’s voice comes from behind you. You groan in pain as you open your eyes, looking at her upside-down form. Or, two of her. You may have hit your head.

“How did you do that?” Alexei inquires in astonishment.

“I designed these cells myself.” She remarks but you don’t really process it with how much your head hurts after banging it against the wall. You manage to stand up, stumbling to Natasha, pulling her into a tight hug before holding onto her cheeks, refusing to let go.

“Nat, baby, I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you but they came out of nowhere, fuck, babe, did they hurt you?” Your eyes run over her face, trying to inspect for damage. “I’ll fucking kill them. I’ll kill every last one of them.” You promise her, but she shoves you away with a roll of her eyes. A hurt expression forms on your face at her rejection of your touch. You gulp heavily before questioning her. “Are you still mad at me for-” You start, your tone turning into a frustrated one. But you choke on your words when she pulls the photostatic veil off her face, revealing it was Melina you just had your hands all over. “Oh.”

“What?” Alexei splutters in shock. “What? I bared my soul to you and it was just you the whole time?” He complains as Melina pulls the red wig off too. You grab it from her hands before she throws it to the ground, inspecting it with curiosity before placing it on your head. You’ve always wondered what you’d look like with, well, any other hair colour, really.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, but wait, shh, I’m on comms with Yelena.” She shushes him as she instructs Yelena through the comms, a finger pressed to her ear.

“I’m sorry. For, you know, touching your wife.” You mumble to Alexei with a cheeky grin. He glares at you as he pulls the wig off your head, throwing it aside.

“Thin ice, Crusher.” You nurse your headache with a rough hand massaging your forehead as Melina talks to Yelena. This must be the Red Room if Melina said she designed these cells herself. It looks much more advanced than what Natasha had told you. Well, she was there years ago and clearly the location has changed. Advancements must have been made if the Red Room has remained undetected for all these years.

“Okay, girls, I’m having trouble hearing you, but Natasha, there’s something I need you to know.” Alexei interrupts their conversation, pressing his fingers to his ear. “I need you to know that I’m sorry. No more excuses, okay? I gave my life for a cause, I thought I was being brave-” Melina hesitates before reaching out to him, stopping him in the middle of his apology.

“You don’t-You don’t have ear piece.” She bursts out. You can’t help but snort at his dumbfounded expression.

“What?” He says, tapping on his ear as if it’ll magically appear. Just to check, you subtly sneak your hand up to your ear. Just to be sure. Well, you were outside the house when the attack happened, so they must have formulated a plan inside before the agents managed to get in. Otherwise, they totally would have made you part of their plans. Right?

“No, she can’t hear you. You don’t have ear piece.” Melina emphasises as he continues tapping over his ears.

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Oh yeah? Well, what was the plan?” Melina goes into detail, explaining her plan with Natasha, switching outfits, Natasha going to meet Dreykov as Melina, and-

“Wait, so Natasha is with Dreykov? Alone?” You interrupt, your brows furrowing together in disbelief. Your mind is already rushing with thoughts of Natasha getting hurt or even worse at the hands of Dreykov.

“She can handle-” Melina starts, but you’re fuming and all you see is red.

“Are you fucking kidding me? That-He fucking-Fuck!” Your mind practically implodes on itself as you pace, tugging on your hair, trying to formulate your own plan in your head to save her. You were supposed to be here with her, for her, keeping her safe. And what does she decide to do the moment you’re not there to protest? Head straight into the lion’s den. Alone.

“Oh, calm down, Natasha’s a big woman, she can handle herself.” Melina rolls her eyes at you, folding her arms across her chest with a raised brow. God, she looks exactly like Natasha. Or Natasha looks exactly like her. Either way, you can’t argue with her and the authority she holds, just like you find it difficult to argue with Nat when she looks at you like that. Your back slides against the wall as you drop down in defeat, feeling utterly useless right now. What the hell are you supposed to do? Sit and wait it out while Nat, Yelena and Melina are out there risking their lives? Surely there has to be some way you can help.

“Come on, now. If we’re just going to press buttons and hack computers-” Alexei seems to be having the same concerns as you, voicing them to Melina.

“Yes.”

“There’s nothing for us to do.” He gestures to you sitting on the ground. “I want to-I want to break something.” He growls, face getting closer to hers. You shift uncomfortably, feeling the sexual tension radiate off them. Oh, God. Please, no.

“Oh, you do?” She teases in a raspy, breathy tone. Her eyes shift though, looking over his shoulder. You follow her line of sight and your back immediately straightens when you see who it is. “Oh, there is something you can break.” She assures and he immediately gets into position, grinning wildly. You stumble up to your feet in slight fear, already having been defeated by this masked figure twice now if you’re counting correctly.

“Ha! Are you ready for a Crusher-Guardian team up?” He exclaims, cackling as he smacks your back, practically vibrating with energy.

“Think you can keep up with me, old man?” You tease back, cracking your knuckles, stretching your muscles as the masked figure’s heavy footsteps get closer. They eye the two of you up, head tilting, analysing. But there’s no other emotion you can detect in their slow steps and body movements.

“You know what? Just for that one, you sit out.” He glares, pointing to the side. Well. You’re not arguing with that one. This will probably be entertaining to watch. With a final smirk, you shuffle to the side, raising your hands up in surrender before crossing them over your chest.

“Fine by me. Good luck, buddy.” And the fight begins - the only thing missing is your popcorn.

Alexei raises his arms up in his signature move, ready to pounce, but he falters a little when he sees the claws come out of the figure’s hands. Before he can even throw a punch, the figure jumps up, two heavy feet knocking into Alexei’s chest. He falls back with a slight grunt, glaring at you as you chuckle. That only fuels him though; he stands back up, running towards the figure with an obvious left hook - his movements are way too slow to go up against this machine. They easily duck under Alexei’s huge arm, tugging a knife out and swiping at his face. Alexei dodges the knife but doesn’t have the same luck with the solid hook to his gut. He tries to fight against combo after combo, but it’s clear he’s already gassed out when the figure’s fist pounds against his jaw once, then twice, the third time smashing his bruised and bloodied against the wall. By the time Alexei is thrown through a glass wall, you decide it’s time to step in.

“Right. I think you’ve had your fun.” You state, clearing your throat as you stand up slowly. Your boots crunch against the small pieces of shattered glass. It’s enough to gain the attention of the masked figure who tilts their head with recognition. They’re fast when they throw their shield at you, but you’re faster by swatting it to the side with your bare arm. It pierces the metal ground with a sharp sound that stings your ears a little, but you continue your heavy steps forward, mimicking their walk, progressing into a run as the masked figure mirrors your movements too.

Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself, letting everything slow down for just a moment. You let your years of training, your months of brutal sparring with Steve, your previous experience fighting this masked figure take over your mind. You know what you have to do.

Instead of throwing a hook, you go on the defence, blocking every punch, jab, hook, kick. When they twirl the knife in their hand, you zone in your hearing to the sound of steel swiping through the air and you’re already jumping up, using Natasha’s move to pull their arm between your legs and steal the knife from them as they drop to the ground. The suit isn’t penetrable so the knife is useless to you; you throw it as far as you can, twisting their arm between your legs until you hear a snap. You think you hear a faint grunt but it’s hard to tell with the explosion in the background rattling the building. Using your leverage, you twist until your foot is close enough, smashing your boot down against their metal-protected head. You only manage two slams until they grab your foot with their free hand, pulling you with incredible strength. A yelp escapes your throat as you’re thrown halfway across the floor, landing near Alexei.

“That is what you get…for making fun of me.” He pants out, still breathing heavily with his hands on his knees. The figure stands tall, unphased as they pull their shield from the hole in the ground. You run towards them, already seeing your plan in your head. Just before the shield can collide with your face, you clench your fist and put all your power into landing a solid hook to their gut. They grunt again, stumbling back a couple of steps as you fall back, head already spinning from the pain of the shield smashing against your head. Alexei takes over as you struggle to get back up, seeing double for a few seconds. You look up to see Alexei against a bunch of metal lockers, shield thrown against his face over and over again with malice.

Stumbling up to your feet, you get in the way just in time, grabbing the incoming shield before it hit the back of Alexei’s head. You throw it back with super-strength, putting speed and power into it. The figure manages to catch it against their chest, the power of the throw pushing them back a few steps. The metal scrapes against their suit, screeching loudly. Your persistence seems to anger them as they step forward a little faster, movement becoming impatient. Your movement is still a little slow from the shield to the face, so you fail to miss the heavy kick to your chest, knocking the wind out of you. You gasp, taking in a shaky, shallow breath as you fall into a coughing fit. You hear the sound of a blade, eyes widening as you see the figure standing over Alexei’s body, but suddenly a flash of white appears, and now you know where Natasha got her thigh move from. She throws the masked figure into the cell, closing it instantly. They hammer, pound, bang against the glass but it refuses to break under the pressure.

“We have to go.” Melina commands. “We can get a plane and we’ll get the other widows out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Natasha.” There’s absolutely no room in your voice for argument. There isn’t a single ounce of hesitation in your tone. You will not leave with Natasha, you promised you won’t leave her. She promised you will make it out of here and find someplace else to live together, to be together, to spend the rest of your lives together after this mess. You’re not leaving her, even if it means burning down with this place.

“Y/N, there is no time-” Melina sighs, flinching a little when you reply in an almost-yell.

“I’m not going! I won’t leave her, I won’t, Melina. Go.” You scream, veins in your neck standing out. Your eyes are as wide as they can be, not bothering to hide your fear. Fuck, you’re so fucking scared because all you can hear around you is screams of pain, explosions, everything breaking down and landing on the ground far, far lower than this building is. You have to find her.

“She won’t be happy about this.” Melina protests but she’s already taking a step back, holding Alexei’s hand tight in hers.

“Go!” You bellow, watching as they run off together. You look around, paranoid, scared, clueless. What are you supposed to do? Where are you supposed to go? “Where’s Natasha?” You growl at the figure through the glass, smashing your own fist against it when they don’t answer you. “Where the fuck is she!?” They stare at you with a tilted head and you can practically see the smirk under the mask. With a frustrated growl, you move into a run, making your way around the floor, trying to find her. You’re only met with two guards who immediately shoot at you. The bullets rip through you but you’re full of adrenaline right now; you sprint towards them in a loud scream, arms raised and colliding with their heads. Dropping to your knees, you let your anger out with your fists colliding against their faces over and over again until they’re almost unrecognisable. Panting, making your way back up to your feet, blood gushes out of your stomach but you felt the bullets go straight through so you don’t let that worry you. “Nat?” You call out, voice echoing around the floor. It’s dark, the lights above flickering as the building crashes, falling apart.

Everything starts to blur in your mind. The flashing lights above becomes the flickering light you used to stare at during your captivity. You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but your fear is taking over you. Your mind is breaking just at the thought of losing Natasha right now. You can’t even process how fucking scared you are as you pace, almost stumbling, boots crunching against glass, blood on your bruised, trembling hands. It’s Natasha’s blood that your mind flickers to, Natasha’s blood pooling at your front door in New Orleans. You drop to your knees, heart beating faster and faster until all you can hear is ringing. Ringing, ringing, ringing, and a stomp.

But something pushes through. Steady, comforting, familiar. A heartbeat.

“Nat…” You breathe out, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat. She’s here. She’s here, she’s so close, you can hear it. Stumbling up to your feet, you start making your way to the sound, letting her guide you. “Nat!” You call out desperately, not hearing her voice, not hearing explosions, only her heartbeat, that steady pounding that has put you to sleep with a calming smile on your face for the last couple of months. You finally spot her in the distance across the floor. Your heart aches in your chest seeing the bruises and blood all over her face. She’s facing the masked figure who’s somehow out of their cell now. Your eyes widen as they reach towards Natasha; you immediately start sprinting towards them, almost slipping on the shards of glass on the ground. But she doesn’t see you or hear you, doesn’t have the time to because the building collapses in on itself before they can meet in the middle. She falls back, sliding down the floor while you jump as far as you can, over the fallen masked figure, over the edge of your broken half of the building. A swinging, thick wire stands out and you manage to grip onto it at the top of the broken building, wrapping your wrist around it. But Natasha’s on the other end and you can hear her heart beating faster, can hear her gasping, breathing heavily as she hangs on for dear life.

“Holy shit!” You yell out as you finally see the outside of the building. You’re in the middle of the fucking sky. Where the hell is this place? Why did no one think this was important information for you to know?

Your grip falters a little as the wire starts sliding out as the concrete around it begins to crumble. Fuck. Maybe you could probably survive the fall, but Natasha won’t. That’s enough to motivate you to start swinging to build momentum, spotting the platform to the left beneath you. If you swing enough, maybe it’ll break above it, letting Natasha fall onto it.

“Come on.” You grunt, swinging back and forth as the wire slowly pulls further out. It only takes a few more swings before the building collapses to the side. Taking a deep breath of success, you allow yourself to smile just a little when you hear Natasha’s footsteps as she lands on the platform. But the wire slips from under you and you don’t react in time. You’re falling fast and you keep your eyes shut, waiting for impact. But it comes sooner than you expected. Your back cracks a little under the force, pain coursing through your body. Past the ringing, you hear the faint sound of Natasha telling Yelena not to do it - do what, you don’t fucking know - and the sadness you hear in her voice is enough to make you roll over, pushing past the pain. Sitting up on your knees, groaning and grunting with each movement, you squint until you see Natasha ahead of you. She can’t hear you as you scream her name out when you see her running towards the edge, but you yell anyway. You’re pretty sure one of your legs is broken as you stand up, gasping in pain, but you run.

You run anyway. You put foot after foot, your limp slowly disappearing as you speed up, forcing the pain away like you’ve done for years. This is the moment you let your mind revert back to your days in your HYDRA cell, being beaten until every bone in your body is cracked and then some. You refused to shed a tear, you refused to cry out. You focus your mind on Natasha, on the fear of losing her, on your promises and her promises. On days spent binging shows and movies, on nights spent with those shows and movies long forgotten, on her soft smile, her throaty laugh, her snort, her soft curves, her eyes, on Natasha. Your Natasha. 

Taking a leap of faith, you jump over the edge with your arms out. Your arms drop down, hands pointed downwards to break the air, speeding yourself up. Your strong hands easily break through any barrier in the sky that gets in your way. And you finally see her in the distance, falling, legs wrapped around Yelena as she puts the parachute bag on her. But Natasha lets go when she sees the masked figure falling down towards her. With saving Natasha being the own goal in mind, you use your power to kick a falling rock of debris towards the masked figure, watching as it hits them, diverting them too far to the side to be able to catch Natasha. Her eyes widen impossibly wide when she catches yours.

“Arms out!” You yell at her and she listens, stretching her arms and legs out. It slows her down just enough as your hands stay in front of you, piercing through the air. It only takes a couple more seconds before you finally reach her, wrapping your arms around her tightly. “Hi.” You pant into her ear, tears already threatening to spill out of your eyes.

“Hi!? You-You were supposed to go with them!” She yells, hands pounding against you in frustration as tears freely run down her cheeks. The wind blows in her face, making it hard for her to keep her eyes locked to yours.

“I promised. You promised.” You rest your forehead against hers as you fall closer and closer to the ground. There’s nothing around you for to use to cushion the fall. There’s only one plan in mind, the only plan that popped into your head the moment you saw her jumping off the platform. You only have one goal. “Just hold on. You’ll be okay.” You grip your arms around her tighter, grunting and moving your body until your back is facing the ground.

“Y/N, no! What are you doing!?” She yells in panic, trying to flip you around but your arms are too tight to let her gain momentum. You keep your eyes locked onto hers, taking one last stroll in the forest of her eyes, your favourite shade of green, the only thing that has the power to comfort you within seconds. It’s the last thing you want to see. She’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“I’m on your side. I’m staying by it.” You breathe out, echoing her words, her pleas to you before the ultimate fight that broke your team up. You’ll choose her when it matters the most. Burying your face in her neck, your eyes close tight as you wait for impact. She sobs into your ears as you sense the ground getting closer and closer until…until you land. You can hear the harsh cracking, can feel the blood pouring, spluttering out of your mouth. But the moment you feel the very first second of excruciating, unbearable pain, the green you see in her eyes fades to black.

“I adore you.” Her words echo through your ear, buzzing through your body, lighting your heart on fire. You know what she means when she says those words; she means to say the three words she’s too scared to reveal just yet. You’ve only been hiding in Norway for two months now, been ‘together’ in New Orleans for even less.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” You whisper as you kiss down her neck, fingers stroking soft patterns along her hips. “Yet you did.” Your lips trail back up, brushing against her sharp jawline before meeting her lips. “You have no idea how much that means to me. How much you mean to me.” You breathe out as her lips press against yours, brushing gently, softly, scared to kiss you because that means she’ll have to close her eyes and no longer look into yours.

“I’ll always go with you.” Natasha promises with gentle, quick pecks of her impossibly soft lips against yours. “Promise.” She reassures you with her fingers tugging on your hair, guiding your lips away from hers. Your attention is drawn to the promise in her eyes, the only pair of eyes you can trust with absolutely everything you have. Your life, your heart, your soul. You’ll bare it all to her.

“Promise.” You whisper back, letting out soft sighs as she kisses her promises into you, nails scratching along your naked back. “Promise.” You whisper again and again as she flips you over, leaving gentle kisses along your neck. You wish you could feel them like she does, feel the blood rushing in your body, feel her teeth nipping at your skin, marking you.

“Promises are made to be broken, Crusher.” Your brows come together in alarm at those words. Rougher, deeper, louder into your ears. It’s not Natasha’s soft whispers anymore. “You really thought Romanoff would stay? With a monster like you?” Your hands turn into fists as your nails puncture your skin. Shuffling from side to side, head shaking, refusing to break away from this memory. You now recognise it as a memory and you don’t want to leave because you can feel it. You can feel the pain in your body, your bones still cracking as they heal, the taste of copper in your mouth. You don’t want to come back to reality. “Get the fuck up.” His voice comes out harsher, forcing your eyes to snap open.

“Where am I?” You clear your throat when you hear how weak and rough it sounds, but only blood comes up, forcing you to roll to the side as you fall into a coughing fit. Red pours out of your throat onto the metal ground. The moving metal. Finding the strength to lift your head, you see metal seats, handcuffs around your wrists, and-and a door. The van door, swinging open.

“I’m afraid you just missed her. She escaped a few minutes ago.” He reveals. Your eyes stay locked on the swinging metal doors. She-No. You won’t even let that thought entertain him. Natasha would not have left you, not like this, not chained up in the back of Ross’s van, blood pouring out of you, bones broken to the point where you’ll be incapable of walking for at least a few days as your body heals. You’re pretty sure your insides are all bleeding too. Natasha would not leave you in this state in the hands of-of someone like him.

“No. She-” You choke on your own words.

“Promised? See, that’s the thing about Natasha Romanoff. She’s cold. Ruthless. She offers nothing but manipulative, empty promises.” Your eyes stay locked onto the doors as tears fall down your cheeks involuntarily. You don’t want to believe him, you refuse. She fucking-she promised. You just sacrificed yourself for her; she wouldn’t betray you, not after something like this, not after the months you’ve spent together. Together. That was the promise.

“You’re wrong. You’re lying. Where is she!?” You snap, raising your voice to the best of your ability; your voice comes out shaky, croaky, cracking with every word you let out. You can’t tear your gaze away from the swinging metal. It’s-It’s haunting you, mocking you, fucking playing with you. He must have left the doors open; he must be manipulating you. Your brain ignores the sound of Natasha’s handcuffs on the bench opposite you, banging against the metal, refusing to see the tell-tale signs. After what you just did for her, what you sacrificed for her to complete her mission, she wouldn’t leave you. Natasha’s not capable of doing something like that, doing something that…that cruel.

“Gone, Crusher. She left you.” He spits out with venom and-and you have no reason not to believe him. You can smell her. This goes down in your top moments where you wish you didn’t have these abilities, these enhanced senses. Because you can smell the remaining scent of her in this van, the lavender, her sweat, her-her salty tears. You can smell it across on the opposite bench. You stare at Natasha’s pair of empty handcuffs, slumping against your seat with nothing left in you. Nothing but…defeat.

General Ross clears his throat, getting ready to give you yet another verbal beating, but he doesn’t get given the opportunity to utter a single word. The van suddenly flips over too many times for you to count, abruptly hit by a missile big enough to pierce through, lighting the van up in flames. Metal crumbles on top of you and you don’t have the strength or the energy to move, to fight, to push it off your broken body. Blood spurts out of your mouth as you cough, ash and dirt covering your face. The ringing in your ears is persistent and only Natasha was able to stop it. But now…now you don’t have her and just the thought of her feels like a knife piercing your heart. The footsteps you hear are hard to focus on but you try anyway, trying to see if you recognise them. Maybe it’s Natasha, maybe she’s come back. Maybe she just needed to get reinforcements. But your stomach drops at the sound of a recognisable voice, darker than you’ve ever heard him speak.

“Well. We’re gonna have some fun, aren’t we… Crusher.”

You told her you’d die for her. You wish you did.