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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Foreigner's God | m.m

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Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter thirty-four: Foreigner's God

Summary: Eliza reaches her breaking point when Fury reveals some truths to her and she snaps, pushing everyone that’s left away. She returns to old patterns of self-destructive behavior and starts to drown in her depression. Thankfully, Nick Fury isn’t all heartless. She’s forced to face her demons and realizes something crucial in the process. Maybe it’s not too late to fix what she broke.

Warnings: ANGST, blood, mentions of injury, drug use, relapse, fighting, mental illness, therapy, allusions to sexual assault, just all the warnings, allusions to smut, (shoutout to @serenitroseyy for sending me that one post about Charlie’s arms), BUT we have fluff at the end

a/n: If you make it through this chapter, there is a New Year’s surprise waiting for you at the end; all the pain will have been worth it. I don’t really know, this is very self-indulgent and I have zero regrets.

I wish you all an amazing New Year’s Eve tonight! Don’t drink too much, get yourself someone to kiss or hug or just to dance with, and celebrate that this shitty year is over (and hope that the next will be better). Thank you all for making the last quarter of 2022 so great for me, and I can’t wait to see what 2023 has in store for me/us! I can’t wait to continue this story! Have a great night and I’ll see you next year!!

Goodbye, Matthew.

Those two words marked the beginning of a very dark time. Mental illness doesn’t excuse toxic behavior, only offers an explanation. So there was no excuse for what Eliza had done. She hurt him in ways she never fathomed possible, and the parts of her that cared got swallowed by the eight-legged monster living inside her head.

She didn’t even tell her friends that she chose to be discharged. Entering her room, she dropped the duffel bag on the closest chair and took in her surroundings. She had her own bathroom, there was a gigantic window pointing out in the direction of the front lawn, a queen-size bed, a flatscreen, and even her own desk. Though she headed straight for the bed, giving in to her weak knees, and she curled up into a ball on the right side of the mattress.

There was a hammering on her door. “Eliza, open up!” Natasha called out.

She closed her eyes, trying to tune out her voice.

“We’re worried about you,” said Clint. Where had he come from?

Eliza could hear them whispering on the other side. They had all come to change her mind. Even Steve and Sam were there. It had all come down to an intervention, and she refused to let them talk down on her. She made her decision, they didn’t have any power over that.

“You know you can talk to us about anything, right?” Steve asked this time.

She simply groaned, trapping her head between the edges of her pillow. The fabric was supposed to swallow the sounds. When her friends didn’t get an answer, they gave up. She could hear them walking away, and she sighed in relief.

Though it only took another five minutes for someone else to speak up. “I’ve been where you are,” Sam said. “I’ve started shutting people out too after I came back from the war. It wasn’t pretty. Everyone always seemed to know better, and they tried to make me do things I didn’t want to do, so I pushed them away.”

Except she hadn’t been to war. She was taken by Hydra. The things that kept her up at night happened at her hand, not because she enlisted in the war. He couldn’t possibly compare their situations.

“Let me tell you this though, pushing people away doesn’t make this hole in your chest go away. Talking about it does. It’s a bit of a slippery slope, but essentially, the only way to get over PTSD is to openly talk to someone about it. And you’ve been through hell and back, you deserve to rest the most out of all of us. It’s okay for you to suffer and to want peace, but don’t push the people who love you away just because that tiny voice inside of your head keeps telling you to.”

Sam jolted in surprise when the door opened. Eliza glared straight at him, the girl he had met before entirely gone. There was not a single emotion left in her fiery eyes.

“I came here because I wanted to be alone,” she snapped, “not to be lectured by a wannabe therapist. If I wanted to go to a support group, I would have already. So take your know-it-all attitude and piss off before I call someone to remove you from my room!”

“Eliza, I-”

The wood almost broke his nose when the door slammed in his face.

She returned to her previous position on the bed. Her eyes switched to the bedside table. She wasn’t proud of it. She thought she was better, she thought she was stronger. It didn’t affect her all that much, at least not at the moment. Though after she got rid of all the tubes and IVs, she started to feel the familiar tingling in her fingertips. A hunger inside of her that didn’t seem satisfied, no matter what she did. She wasn’t hungry for sustenance. She was hungry for something else entirely.

Opioids work by interacting with the opioid receptors in your cells. When they get into your bloodstream and attach to such receptors in your brain, they muffle pain and boost feelings of pleasure. The pain relief is not that dangerous if used correctly and as prescribed. The body almost instantly responds.

When you focus on the pleasure though, sometimes it happens that the brain can’t get enough of the release, and that’s where opioids get dangerous because once you feel such pleasure, it’s hard to stop. Not when it shuts your brain down so good, you’re flying where the universe doesn’t exist. You’re in your own little world, completely numb to the outside world, and in a state of constant bliss. It’s better than sex. For a moment, you can just float and don’t have to think about anything else. Your brain is enveloped in cotton, your muscles are completely relaxed and you find yourself staring down from cloud nine, above everyone else.

That’s why a lot of doctors have stopped prescribing opioids and started using new methods of pain relief. Opioids such as Oxycodone often offer a window into the world of other drugs, especially heroin. What was once used to treat your pain suddenly turns into your only source of pleasure, and once you’re in it, those addictive drugs won’t let you go any more, no matter how hard you try. Not to mention the alcoholism that often comes with drug addiction, but not always. Mixing those two substances makes for a very toxic cocktail that should not be explored.

Eliza should have known better. Agreeing with Sophie’s treatment plan had been a bad idea. It was only going to be a small dose, she had said. There was nothing to worry about. Just until her body was strong enough to heal on its own and she could get some sleep. She had major surgery, in her case the use of morphine was more than valid, but with her history, it had been a bad idea to even suggest the idea. And she was foolish enough to agree to it.

She locked the door twice. No one should be able to come in. The shame would kick in soon enough.

As she sat on the bed now, she looked at the clear liquid inside the small bottle. In a weak moment, she had stolen it, and she already regretted that decision. Now that she had it in her hand, the temptation grew in size. She was fragile enough already. The morphine would only drag her down and slow down her recovery process. Then why couldn’t she put it down?

Addiction is a fickle thing.

They could all go to hell. Her friends, her so-called family, they could all suck it. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone, she only needed to get better and then leave them behind for good.

Eliza needed to regain her strength as soon as possible or she would never escape the shackles they put on her by taking her back to SHIELD. She refused to succumb to a life of control, with little to no autonomy. She was sick and tired of being pushed around. She would pack her stuff once this was over and start anew somewhere. Someplace no one would find her, preferably. Or she would fight to the death, she hadn’t decided yet. Either way, she would finally get rid of everything that kept her tied down. She didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not those who liked to belittle her because they claimed it to be their right as her family.

She didn’t need a family. Her parents were dead. No one could replace what she had lost and never gotten when her mother died. If she was cursed, she would stand by the truth. She would accept who she was, even if it meant hurting the people around her. She couldn’t have cared less.

Instead of sleeping, she walked laps around her room until she collapsed on her bed. The next morning, she jumped head-first into training. Muscle-building exercises paired with slow walks on the treadmill; she worked until her legs were shaking and she had to take a break because her incision site started to set itself on fire. When her trainer suggested they should call it a day, she burst his bubble.

“I can keep going,” she insisted.

By the end of the first day, she was almost entirely stable on her feet. The wound had progressed healing, Sophie told her, and chances that her stitches would be removed soon were high.

She only trained harder from then on.

Against her trainer’s recommendation, she snuck into the ring one night. With bandaged hands, she started beating the punching bag raw. The only thing she wasn’t allowed to do was strain her torso too much. She felt better though, so she decided she had been patient long enough.

The first few hits went over well. She grew more confident, putting more force behind her punches. The leather of the bag burned perfectly against her wrapped skin. The sharp pressure against her knuckles was all she could focus on. She wanted more of that sweet pain. It managed to distract her from everything else, and the world stopped spinning for just a minute.

She barely felt the blood that started to drench the bandages or the way the metal chain attached to the bag squeaked louder with every hit. The first few cracks in the ceiling had already formed. Eliza was trapped in a haze, only focused on hitting her target, imagining Viktor’s face. All she could see was him and the man she killed, then Ivan and his gun, and her mind instantly went back to Viktor. The pictures wouldn’t stop flashing. Her mother, her father, Hydra, everything followed in a series of short impulses.

The chain broke apart, some of the drywall following suit as the punching bag soared across the room and hit the ground. She cried out, the pain cutting her abdomen apart once more.

She bowed over, holding the bandage around her bare stomach. A red stain had formed, matching the blood covering her knuckles. She looked down at her covered hands, and her mind flashed back to the same hallway in the White Room as she cut the stranger’s throat. The broken knuckles reminded her of her failed attempt to kill Viktor, and seeing her abdomen bleed only pushed the near-death experience to the front lines.

“What did that bag ever do to you?” the female voice piped up behind her.

She grunted, applying more pressure to the wound to get the bleeding and the heavy pulsating to stop.

Maria stepped around the corner, eyeing her exhausted frame. “You’re bleeding,” she said and pointed to the blood-soaked bandage. Perhaps it looked worse than it was. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to even be in here.”

“What do you want?” Eliza asked through gritted teeth. “Did Fury send you? Because I don’t want to talk to him.”

“I actually just came because Natasha told me that you haven’t come to see them in two days, and every time they tried to make advances, you pushed them away.”

“Oh great, she’s snitching on me now.”

“And Matt left.”

“Yeah, he did that. So what? He’s a grown man. He can do whatever he wants.” Her breath came short and labored. Sweat ran down her face, covering her neck in a thin layer. She wiped over the wet skin with her bloody hands, leaving a trail behind.

Maria walked over to clean up the punching bag, then returned to Eliza who had backed up into the wall and leaned against it. She could barely keep herself upright.

“I think you might have popped some of your stitches,” she stated.

“Happens,” Eliza said.

“How about a deal?”

She raised her eyebrows. “A deal? What deal?”

“You get that wound checked out and I will convince Doctor Michaels to allow me to train you from here on. I will get you back on your feet in just a couple of days,” she said.

“I feel like there’s a catch somewhere in there.”

Maria chuckled. “I do have a condition of my own. Something you can do for me.”

“Let me guess,” she asked, “Fury wants to see me?”

“Yeah.”

“That was so predictable. The answer is no.”

“Think about it. No more physical therapy.” The offer sounded lucrative, she had to admit. “You’ll improve your combat skills and heal much faster if you enjoy what you’re doing. And, you know, I will let you take out your anger on as many punching bags as you want.”

“It’s just one conversation?” Eliza questioned as she thought about it. “And then you’ll train me?”

“He just wants to talk,” she said.

She wished she had something to punch into. “Fuck it,” she grumbled to herself. “We have a deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m in. Congratulations! You won’t lose your job just yet. Then again, you can always crawl back to Tony if being a double agent for SHIELD doesn’t work out.”

Maria scoffed, and the relieved glint in her eyes turned into a mischievous one. “I’m not gonna go easy on you, you realize that, right?”

Eliza matched her smirk. “I’m counting on it,” she said.

She knocked on the door of the conference room early in the morning.

Fury stood at the huge window, looking out at the field of grass before the complex. She didn’t wait for his permission to enter, she simply walked in.

She hadn’t been outside for so long, she forgot what nature looked like. The sun stood high in the sky, and the flowers in the garden were blooming.

She pressed a hand to her freshly stitched wound. Sophie had been anything but happy, but Maria talked her out of being admitted again. There was something incredibly convincing about that woman. Perhaps her years of working for SHIELD had turned her into a master manipulator, or her looks did it for her. Either way, Eliza was glad that she settled it for her.

“Nice weather we’re having,” she said, her voice bitter.

Fury chuckled. “I was hoping you’d come,” he answered.

“Hill made a very convincing argument. I didn’t do it for you, I did it for myself. Just so we’re clear.”

He hummed, moving from the window to the conference table only momentarily to pick up the paper cup. He handed it to her. “Coffee?”

She ground her teeth. He wasn’t playing fair. She took him up on his offer, more than glad to taste the sweet yet bitter liquid on her tongue again. The cappuccino was sweet enough to cause her diabetes, her favorite way to drink it.

“So, what’s this blackmail about?” she asked. “What could be so important that you asked me here?”

He surprised her when he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.” It was as much sentiment as he was capable of.

She gasped in surprise. “Is that affection that I sense?”

“You know, the surgeons were ready to give up on you. After thirty minutes, they said, the brain would suffer significant damage. Still, I told them not to lose you because I- we didn’t want to lose you just yet. I gambled. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, turn into a vegetable, but it worked. You’re alive.”

“Hm, didn’t see that coming,” she said, but she had been confronted with worse truths.

If she had died, a lot of things could have been prevented, but Fury made it sound like he wanted her to survive (for whatever reason) and she couldn’t deny that it was nice to hear he cared enough to intervene. She couldn’t be mad at him for that, only for putting her on radio silence for so long, she believed he wasn’t exactly real.

Eliza took another sip from her coffee. “As surprised as I am to hear that, I’ll take it. You saved my life. Thank you, I suppose that’s the correct answer.”

“The correct answer?” He raised his one good eyebrow.

“Do I get extra points if I act as if I care? Is that, like, a thing now?”

“No, not at all.” He was the king of not caring or pretending to, at least. “I’m just surprised. What happened to you?”

“Life,” she stated. “Or, technically, it was death and then life because I survived.”

“You wanted me to let you die?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you here to discuss the drama you caused,” he said. Finally, the careless Fury was back. Always focused on one thing only, work.

He pulled a file from the inside of his leather coat. She took it. Her relationship with strange files wasn’t exactly a great one.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s the official report on the Hydra situation,” he told her. “I thought you’d like to know that we destroyed all that was left. We apprehended Viktor and your fugitive status has officially been erased. You’re not gonna have to stand trial when you get out of here.”

“That’s the least you could do.”

“Read it.”

“I know what happened. Natasha told me.”

“I’m not sure she told you everything. Romanoff likes to protect you. I don’t. I strongly believe you’re more than capable of dealing with bad news yourself. You’re not a child anymore.”

He was right. She wanted to be mad at him, but it was hard to hate him when he said things that made her feel better. He understood, which was something her life lacked for the past couple of days; people who understood where she was coming from, or what she wanted.

She didn’t want to be wrapped in a bubble and protected. It was the last thing she needed. She swore she wouldn’t allow herself to be lied to anymore. If what Nick suggested was true, Natasha had lied to her again, and the truth was in the file. The situation seemed all too familiar, reigniting the endless rage in her stomach.

She moved over to the conference table, placing the file down on the tabletop. Eliza opened it, not sure what to expect. The pictures didn’t matter, and neither did the report on how they burned the place to the ground. That much, she was told.

What she wasn’t told, however, was that there had been someone else present in the compound at the time, and he was responsible for the first set of explosions. It was sorted in Natasha’s report of events.

She growled. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Is this real?” She looked at Fury.

“We found the devices he used in the ashes. He planned to get you out of there. He was ready to destroy Hydra from the inside, and I suppose he succeeded. We found an unidentified set of remains in the ruins,” he said.

Eliza flipped the page. “DNA is a match.”

“Your father died to help you take down Hydra.”

“How did he even get out in the first place?”

“The lockdown gave him a short window to break out. He came prepared. I believe he knew you’d pull something like this, but played along anyway.”

His brutal honesty became too much to bear.

She swooped the file off the table, slapping her hands down. “I knew it,” she muttered.

“If we had known, we would have pulled him out of there, but after what Natasha told me…” Fury sighed. “He chose to die. He would’ve done anything to save your life. That’s why I told them to save you. His attempts would’ve been for nothing if you’d died.”

“No,” Eliza snapped around to face him, “you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to play the good guy. You were part of this conspiracy too. You could’ve told me the second I woke up, but you didn’t even bother to see me,” she said. “That’s cowardice right there, and I refuse to be belittled anymore. I’m done! I thought you were my family, but all you’ve done since I came here seven years ago was lie to me about my heritage, my life, my past, and now even the death of the only blood-related family I had left. I can’t do this anymore. Just tell me, does Maria know?”

He shook his head. “And I’m not saying this to protect her. She has no idea,” he said.

“Because she would have told me if she knew?”

“Yes.”

“At least someone with the guts to tell the truth. You know what?” Eliza walked over to the scattered documents. She scrambled them together, put them into the file, and then tore them apart. She ripped them right down the middle, then again at the edges. “Fuck this, and especially fuck you!”

“Eliza, would you just let me explain?”

“There is nothing to explain,” she said. “Maria is going to help me get better and then I’m out of here. I’ve been lied to enough for a lifetime, thank you very much.”

She was delusional to ever think her life would take a turn for the better.

Eliza found Natasha and the others in the lounge. They camped out there most of the time, hoping they’d run into her and get a word in. She usually avoided them, but she’d had enough.

She stormed in, almost kicking down the door. The look in her eyes left no space for speculation. Her thoughts were written all over her face.

Natasha opened her mouth, but she raised her finger. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it,” she said. “I’m not sure what’s true and what’s a lie anymore, so just don’t.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Steve.

“Wow!” She laughed. “All this and you still have the guts to act clueless. That’s remarkable, really. To make me believe you’re in my court and that I can trust you only for you to break that trust time and time again. Especially you,” she turned to Natasha, “I thought you were my sister,” she said.

Natasha gawked at her. “No, I am,” she insisted. “I told you, I would never lie to you again. What’s this about?”

The audacity. Eliza expected her to deny it, but the act they all put on was remarkably pathetic and it made the bomb inside of her explode.

“Are you just in denial or did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Do you think I’m fucking stupid, delusional or perhaps even completely fucked in the head? What is it with you and all this lying to protect me? You think I’m so mentally fucked up that you can’t even tell me the truth about what happened back at the White Room?”

Clint sighed. It was a knowing sigh. He knew too, and he didn’t care to tell her. Steve lowered his head and Sam stared out of the window. Natasha was the only one who met her eye sternly.

“Whatever you think you found out,” she prompted.

Eliza cut her off immediately, “Don’t act all innocent now. It won’t work. I refuse to buy any of the shit you’re trying to sell to me.”

“I’m serious, I can explain if you’d just let me. There is a reason I kept this from you.”

“No. My father was there to help me!” she snapped. “He was there and he knew he was going to die. You saw him, you talked to him, and you told everyone about this but me. He died, Natasha! He was the only parent I had left and he died to help me. He tore them apart from the inside, quite literally, and sacrificed himself in the process. He did that, not me! And you didn’t even think to tell me. I mean, I sold him out. I almost got him killed. The least you could have done is tell me that he made the choice to help me, not hate me. What kind of sister does that? What kind of sister lies to the person she claims to love over and over again, betraying my trust like it means nothing, like I’m just a child who needs protection from the monsters in the closet?”

“Eliza, please… I can explain.”

“You made me believe I was an orphan and when I finally thought that I wasn’t entirely alone in this world, my father died to protect me, and you knew and didn’t even think to tell me. Congratulations, you no longer have to lie about the orphan thing. My parents are all dead. I have no grandparents, so siblings, not even an aunt or an uncle; I have nothing. I’m officially alone.”

“You’re not alone, you never were,” Clint cut in.

“No, I was!” Her voice reverberated in the small room. “I still am! Everyone who’s ever been in my corner has betrayed me. And the one person who’s ever truly loved me left because I told him to. I was never not alone. I grew up alone and it seems like I’m doomed to be alone for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“Eliza,” Steve said, and his tone sounded almost warning.

“Sam,” she said, not even thinking about stopping.

The man turned from the window, his shoulders slack.

“Nice speech you gave me. Was any of it real, when you told me not to push people away while knowing a very vital secret about my life that not even I knew?”

“Now hold on,” he said, “I meant what I said. We were just trying to protect you. I’ve been trying to do what’s right, and I strongly believe that not telling you was the wishes choice. That’s not Natasha’s fault. If anything, you should hate all of us.”

“You’re lucky that I already do hate all of you. And I thought you were my family.”

Natasha scoffed. “But we still are,” she said.

Eliza twirled around, her dead eyes glaring daggers into the woman she no longer recognized. “Am I talking to you, Natasha?” She cocked her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, listen here, little Miss,” Clint stepped forward, ever the condescending father and he said, “You can be mad at us, but you’re walking on thin ice here. We deserve a little respect for all the shit we had to put up with. We’re older and more experienced than you. You have no right to talk down on us like that.”

She laughed straight in his face. “The shit you had to put up with?” she spat. “That’s funny considering I’m the one who has to constantly put up with your shit. Your lies and your pretenses and everything else you got going on to make me believe my life is one thing when it’s actually another,” she said. “I’m sorry that I was such a burden to you, but I’ve never asked you to care, so it’s kinda your fault we’re in this position. I will not be respectful,” she came dangerously close, “Because you’ve lost all of my respect. Older or not, I don’t have to respect you when I can’t even trust you anymore. And I’m not a kid, so don’t treat me like one of your children.”

“But you are one of my children,” he told her. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you want all the Christmas gifts back, would that make it easier to get the fucking hint? That means you’re no longer my family. You’re nothing. You’re not my father and you’re not my friend. You’re strangers. I don’t fucking recognize you anymore. In my eyes, all that you are right now is pathetic.”

Natasha stared at her. She wasn’t sure if it was fear in her eyes or if she was just shocked she had turned into this. Whatever this was. Eliza wasn’t sure, exactly, but she didn’t lose another thought about it. Fighting the inevitable was useless anyway.

She gasped softly, “Eliza.”

“Look,” Steve tried his best to keep them from hitting each other, “maybe we should all just calm down before we say things that we don’t mean.”

“I meant every word of what I said,” Eliza retorted.

“You can’t possibly mean all of that,” Sam said.

Clint gritted his teeth. “I think she does.”

"Damn, right I do. And I think it’s best if you pack your things and leave. Who knows when the authorities will start to pick up on your location? And you know, I don’t want to see your faces around here ever again,” she said. “I am done with you, with all of this, and once I’m back on my feet, I will move far away from here. The Eliza you knew is gone and I’m tired of pretending that that’s not the case. If leaving is all it takes to get away from a family that claims to care about me but then continues to lie to me about things that I had every right to know about, I will gladly go into exile for the rest of my life.“

Eliza pushed the door open. Her name was uttered in many different volumes, and she was urged back into the room to talk, to calm down, to have a proper conversation, but she only shut the door in their faces.

There was only one more hurdle to jump over and then she could close this chapter for good.

The pain was all-consuming. It felt as if she was wounded deep inside, something, not even a bandaid could fix. She asked herself if it was her fault. If she brought the world to turn against her. It had to be. People don’t change this fast. She judged her friends to be good people. Herself, that was another story. There was no goodness in her heart, Viktor was right.

There seemed to be only one way to remove this hot knife that cut through her solar plexus.

No one would care.

Back in her room, she reached into the bedside drawer. The bottle came with a small syringe; she wasn’t a complete fool. She tied the makeshift tourniquet just above the crook of her elbow, causing the blue vein to pop. She filled the syringe with only a small dose, enough to do the trick. The thin needle penetrated her skin sharply, reaching into the vein underneath.

Eliza didn’t waste time pushing all the way down, the clear liquid now flooding her bloodstream. Tossing the syringe, tourniquet, and bottle back into the drawer, she fell back on the bed.

Thirty minutes passed by. During that time, she stared at the ceiling. A couple of weeks ago, she would have cursed herself for this decision and run in a panic to the nearest doctor. But she was already so numb, all she could do was succumb to the sweet voice calling out for her. She took the invisible hand, allowing the voice to drag her into dreamland.

As soon as the dose hit, she questioned why she had even stopped in the first place.

The world went quiet. She floated in the safety of the white cloud that carried her into what she supposed was heaven. A paradise of nothing. There was no pain where she ended up, only relief and ecstasy. The pleasure caressed her skin in all the right places. She could breathe again.

She turned her head to the side to find the familiar pair of brown eyes staring into hers. Her lip twitched into a smile. He wasn’t real. She could wave her hand through his body and the particular part would dissolve into smoke.

“This is my bubble,” she whispered.

“It could be ours,” he whispered back.

“You’re not real.”

“I could be.”

“I’m trying to move on, but you’re always there. Why?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

She waved her hand through him one last time, allowing Matt to dissolve and return to her state of mindlessness. Her eyelids dropped. Sleep called for her. She was tired, and her body completely relaxed against the mattress. She couldn’t move. She wanted to stay on this cloud forever.

The stars offered her a blanket and she said yes. The universe lulled her into a deep sleep, one void of dreams and especially, void of nightmares and Matt Murdock. She slept as she had never slept before, completely knocked out while floating in the starry night. Almost like Aladdin had taken her away on his magic carpet and they were singing A Whole New World as a thank you to the universe.

It was her final lullaby.

The hard knocking on her door disrupted her short-lived euphoria. Or, it hadn’t been short-lived. She had been asleep for a good amount of time, hours on end, almost as if she was dead.

Her eyes fluttered open. She regretted not closing the curtains. She already felt the headache coming on.

The hammering grew louder. “Eliza, open your fucking door before I kick it down!” Maria shouted from the other side.

Her eyes fell on the clock. Oh, shit. She had slept for most of the day. It was around one pm. She shot up, scrambling to her feet, ignoring the dizziness or the shaking of her limbs, or the way her mouth had dried. All that mattered was getting Maria off her ass so she wouldn’t call someone to drag her out of her room or do it herself.

She opened the door, staring at the brunette woman with wide eyes. “What?” she snapped.

“Where the hell have you been? We were supposed to meet at eight this morning! I thought you were dead. I even tried to call you.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been sleeping. Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to set an alarm.“

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, I’m great,” she lied.

“You look like shit.”

“Then stop looking.”

Her nostrils flared. “Ten minutes,” Maria said. “If you don’t show them, I will drag you back into the hospital myself.”

She closed the door. That was close.

Eliza stormed into the bathroom, emptying her guts in the toilet. Cold shivers rippled through her body. Her fingers had gone numb. She gagged again, releasing another disgusting wave of vomit. She felt better after that, though the pressing need to reach into the drawer again grew with each passing second. Even as she got dressed, her eyes lingered there.

She taped a bandaid over the injection point on her arm. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, but she would find a way. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Perhaps that was why she dealt with it so well, the sudden drop after the high. She was used to it.

As it turned out, Maria was a harsh trainer. She worked Eliza down to the bone. Though whatever she did, it worked. Two days after they started training together, Sophie removed her stitches. The incision site had fully healed, and she was only getting stronger every day.

Maria forced her to do cardio until her legs gave out, and she unleashed her anger on several punching bags until her arms went numb.

When she came home after a particularly hard day though, Fury burst her bubble. He sat on her bed, fiddling with the small bottle who had significantly shrunken in size since she first pulled it out of the drawer.

Her heart dropped to her stomach and she swallowed. “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she said.

“Hill told me she was worried about you,” he ignored her statement. “She said you’ve been lashing out more than usual, you’re constantly late or a no-show and you refuse to talk about why you look like absolute shit all the fucking time, and it’s not because of genetics.”

“Oh, please. Lashing out? I’m only lashing out at the punching bags. And so what, I’m late? Happens to the best of us. Maria has to stop acting like a fucking helicopter mom. It’s getting ridiculous. Can’t get what she wants so she snitches to daddy.” Eliza scoffed. “That woman really has the audacity to act clueless around me and then go behind my back. Why does everyone keep doing that?” she said. “Is there a sign on my face that just begs to be lied to or what is it?”

“Your attitude has reached a point where even Hill wonders what’s wrong with you, and she knows all about attitude.” Fury leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His eye looked even darker in the dim light of the ceiling lamp. “She also said you’ve lost weight,” he said, “and gained a lot of muscle. You haven’t been eating, or at least that’s what it looks like. Or you’re throwing up everything. You’re pale, shaking and your punches have started to waver…”

“Your point?”

“I had my suspicions,” he stated, shaking the bottle. “I had to find viable proof before I confronted you. That and I wanted to see for myself – your pupils are wider than the fucking moon, don’t even try to talk yourself out of it. You’re fucking high.”

She straightened her shoulders. “That’s just there for symbolism,” Eliza argued. “It means nothing. You can take it away, I don’t care.”

She did care, but she was too proud to admit it. He had no right to invade her privacy like that, and perhaps it was the light causing her pupils to dilate. She told herself she wasn’t high even though she knew better. She knew what she was and sober wouldn’t be a word she would have used to describe herself either.

“Symbolism?” Fury asked.

“Yes.” She went to reach for the bottle. “Symbolism,” she said.

Shooting up had become a routine since she started training. She had to admit, she yelled at Maria more often than not, and the ceiling had taken a toll from the punching bags she destroyed, but she had it under control.

He placed the bottle down on the nightstand. Instead, he offered her a plastic cup.

“If it’s just symbolism, you won’t have a problem with peeing in this cup.”

She frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“I’m not peeing in the cup.”

“Pee. In. The. Cup.”

Eliza groaned loudly. “No,” she insisted.

“You have something to hide?”

“No, I just don’t like being told what to do. I’m not doing a drug test. I’ve got it under control.”

“Like you had it under control three years ago?” he challenged.

“That was different.”

“Was it though?”

She huffed.

“Pee in the cup or I’m taking you back to the hospital.”

“Fine!” She took the cup from him.

He wasn’t going to like the results.

She ignored the obvious signs of withdrawal, the shaking, the throwing up, and the itching of her skin. Instead, she spent every living second in the training room. She convinced Maria to let her work with the holograms. The last time, she never made it further than taking down six of the synthetic men. She planned to break the record.

She needed to kill something, even if it was just a holographic person. The thrill made the ache in her bones more bearable.

Eliza fought the eight men off with just her fists and a stick, one that was about half the size of her. She flipped about the room as if she had never gotten hurt in the first place. Her hits were calculated and directed at the hologram’s jugular. She dodged their weapons and used her own to trap them, before throwing them over her shoulders. The last one was met with the stake right through his heart, and then that was it.

She took them all out in four minutes, but as she knelt on the ground, her chest heaving and sweat coating her entire body, she realized she needed more. If she couldn’t have the one thing she was addicted to, she had to divert her attention to something else. The fight caused her momentary control over her life, and it felt victorious. Having full control over everything around her. The feeling sustained her.

Maria stood on the sidelines, watching her intently. Her lip curled up into a proud smile. “You outdid yourself,” she said.

“That wasn’t good,” Eliza stated.

“You’re right, it was excellent.”

“No, I can do better than that. Run the simulation again.”

“Eliza, you’re done. You’ve reached full capacity, that means you’re back to a hundred percent. You made it.”

“Great, let’s go again. And make it ten this time,” she said. “In fact, give me everything this program has to offer. I’m not stopping until I’ve reached two hundred percent.”

She gave in only because she knew the girl needed it. With a sigh, she reset the simulation, changed the settings, and restarted it.

Eliza managed to win against the holograms two more times before she fell to her knees, completely spent. The lack of nutrition started to catch up to her. She downed an entire water bottle in one big gulp, but it wasn’t enough to improve her circulation.

Maria had long left her when she returned to the training grounds, setting up a new punching bag. Leaning her forehead against the cold leather, she took a deep breath. She was back to full capacity, which meant her body healed successfully. She could move out if she wanted to.

She landed the first hit.

For days, she worked herself to the bone so she could leave. Still, she felt weaker than before she was shot. She felt less worthy. Nothing she did seemed enough. She couldn’t satisfy the monster in her head, no matter what she did, no matter how many times she won. She was still pretty much worthless.

Her fists rained down on the punching bag, soon causing the hook to squeak. Why was she like this? She pushed all of her friends away, pushed Matt away, and she relapsed. She made one bad choice after another and her first response was to hit something instead of stopping for just a moment and thinking, “Hey, maybe something is wrong with me and I should get some help.” Deep down, she knew that it was time to face her demons. She knew that this was no way to live. Punishing herself for something that wasn’t even her fault. Listening to her mind degrading her and forcing her to do things she swore herself she would never do.

The only reason she decided to take drugs again was that the excruciating ache in her chest wouldn’t stop. Her soul was hurting and she didn’t know how else to stop it. She had never felt this useless before. All eyes were on her, and she could hear them talking. She could hear them talking behind her back, blaming her for everything, and they all agreed that she was the problem. She was at fault for every bad thing that went wrong in her life. There was no one else to blame, so she kept punishing herself, pushing beyond her limits until she was aching and bleeding on the floor. Only then did she stop. Anything to stop thinking about the hole that had been torn through her soul. She ruined her own life in the span of only a few days, which was remarkable, but it still hurt.

Yes, it hurt. She felt it everywhere, in every inch of her body. No matter how hard she trained, she wouldn’t stop feeling weak, not if she continued running herself dry like this. But her head wouldn’t allow her to stop. If anything, it kept screaming at her to continue. She wasn’t in control. She was a slave to the monster dictating her life. She hadn’t even made those choices consciously, she just wanted this pain to stop. Being alone seemed like the only way to stop causing damage, but in the aftermath, her heart shattered and she realized she had caused more damage to herself than anything else.

The bag flew off its hinges. She expected that to happen. Her knuckles were once again bloody, though she had foregone the bandages this time. She wanted to feel the full force of her hits breaking through her skin, making her suffer some more. The pain was an easy way for her to forget about temptation and overshadow whatever was broken inside of her.

She needed help, but she couldn’t possibly admit it to herself without the monster starting a war inside of her head.

“I should sue you for the holes in the ceiling,” Fury piped up behind her.

Eliza was busy cleaning her knuckles with the disinfectant she left behind.

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“Is it because I’m the poor little drug addict who stole from the hospital?” she condescended. “Because if so, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, your drug test did show traces of morphine in your blood. You were high. I was right.”

“That’s unfortunate.” She hissed when the cotton swab rubbed over a particularly deep cut. “What’re you gonna do? Admit me to the mental hospital? Sue me for theft? Send me to a home that doesn’t exist anymore? Please,” Eliza scoffed, “You can’t hurt me. Not anymore.”

You can’t hurt someone who doesn’t feel anything besides physical pain. Her soul had long stopped feeling anything other than unbridled rage.

“I don’t plan on punishing you,” he stated.

She laughed. “Ha! That’s a new one.”

“I want you to get better.”

“Haven’t you heard,” she told him, “I’m back at full capacity.”

“Yes, I heard.” Fury stepped forward, his hands so often crossed behind his back. “But that’s Hill’s physical assessment. Physically, you’re healthier than ever. Mentally? I beg to differ.”

Eliza snapped around. “What do you care? You never do. You’re as emotionless as they come. Why do you care about me, all of a sudden? That’s pathetic, Fury. I thought you knew better. I thought you were better, not weaker.”

“That right there proves me right in my suspicions that you need help,” he answered rather calmly. For him, that was new. He had never reacted like this before. She expected him to yell, but it never came.

She hit her fist against her forehead to stop the hammering inside her skull. “Fuck you!” she said. “You don’t know shit about me. You’re a fucking fool, that’s what you are. You can’t possibly think that I’m gonna listen to anything you have to say.”

“You’re traumatized, I think that’s pretty clear. You relapsed, that’s clear too. Now you’re training until you’re bloody and bruised just so you won’t have to face your emotions and relapse again. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve gone out of your goddamn mind, but this is withdrawal talking. Everyone deals with it differently and I refuse to accept that you’ve turned into an asshole,” he said.

“I’m not in withdrawal. I’m fine. I told you, I had it under control. You see I’m still standing, so you can’t deny that I dealt with it just fine. I am fine.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re not fine!”

She flinched back when he yelled. Finally, she thought, but it also felt worse than the thrill she expected to feel at the prospect of making him angry. This wasn’t anger, he was worried.

“You need help, Bennett, and I’m not standing by and continue watching you work yourself to death,” said Fury. “I’m not doing it, so you better pull your head out of your ass and do something about it before it’s too late.”

Eliza tightened the bandage around her mangled hand. “Don’t worry, I will be out of your hair by sundown,” she retorted.

His large hand grabbed her bicep, pulling her back and therefore stopping her from leaving. Running had become her favorite thing to do, and he was done entertaining her. Something resembling worry filled his eye, and his lip turned downward in disapproval.

Her eyes darkened. “Let me go, Nick.”

“If you want to leave, we need to get some paperwork done first.”

“What paperwork?” she asked. “An NDA?”

He nodded.

“Oh, my…” she shook free of his hold. “Fine! I will sign your stupid NDA. As long as you leave me alone after that, I don’t give a single fuck about what I have to sign or not sign.”

“Conference room,” he told her plainly, “Five minutes. Take a goddamn shower before that.”

“Fuck you, too.”

Eliza headed for the conference room after a much needed shower, her bags already packed inside her room. She didn’t even knock this time, she just stomped in with her pen at the ready.

Fury was nowhere to be found. She looked around, searching for his face, but he was gone. Instead, her eyes fell on the familiar face sitting at the head of the table. The door shut behind her.

“What is this?” she asked. “An intervention?”

“Interventions usually require more than one person,” the woman answered. She had her notebook in front of her, legs crossed and her fingers intertwined before her on the Mahagoni. “No, I’m here for you.”

“Fuck this!”

She attempted to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Someone locked it from the outside, trapping her inside for the unforeseeable future.

Frustrated beyond compare, Eliza kicked the wall. This couldn’t be happening.

Mrs. Darcy didn’t appear to be moved by her outburst. She kept her calm, watching her patient intently as she started pacing around the room. Not a word was shared between them until the therapist chose to break the silence.

“I suppose you have a faint idea why I’m here,” she said.

“Yeah, because everyone here seems to think I’m fucked in the head,” Eliza bit back. “Which I’m not, by the way. It’s just become a trend to silently accuse me of that, so…”

“Oh, so you don’t think there is something wrong with you?”

“Oh, my God. I honestly don’t know why they brought you here, out of all people. They could have chosen any other therapist, but it just had to be you. Why? Because that’s supposed to make me talk? And now I’m locked in here. That can’t be legal. What the fuck is happening?” She kicked the door again. “I want to get out of here, now.”

“This is not an involuntary psych hold.”

“Then why does it feel that way?” she said.

“Sit,” Mrs. Darcy pointed to a chair next to her. Instead, Eliza took the one farthest away from her. She chuckled. “That’s better than nothing, I guess. You want some water?” she asked.

“Fuck the water! If you’re here to do a psych eval, just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it. Just make this quick so I can pack my shit and get out of here.”

“I understand that you’ve almost died, is that correct?”

She hated therapists.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“And Mister Fury recently ran a drug test which revealed that you have been abusing morphine for the past couple of days,” she said, definitely repeating what she had read in a file and not something she deduced on her own.

Eliza shrugged. “I had major surgery,” she explained, “I was in pain. I made that choice and it worked.”

“But you’re completely healthy now. Why would you continue taking morphine if not for recreational purposes?”

“What do you want from me, Mrs. Darcy?” she asked, exasperated. “I’m fine. I’m great. I don’t need a therapist. I just want to go home.”

“You don’t exactly have a home anymore,” Mrs. Darcy replied.

“That was a low blow. And even if I did, that would be none of your business. In fact, none of this is any of your business. This is my life, I get to make the decisions.” Eliza stood up. “I want to leave, right now.”

The woman smiled softly. “You could do that, or you could listen to that rational voice inside your head and sit back down so I can help you.”

“I don’t need help!” She groaned. “Why does nobody get that?”

“I think you need help, and I think you know that too. PTSD is nothing you should ignore. Besides, I can see in your eyes how scared you are. You might not want to admit it to yourself, but you’re scared of the person you’ve become and are continuing to turn into. You don’t know what you want. I’m here to help you figure that out. I’m here to help you find back to yourself.”

“No,” she said.

“Near-death experiences often lead to detachment from the self. I’ve seen it happen to many of my patients. And for you, the events that lead up to that experience were very triggering,” Mrs. Darcy stated as if she was living inside of her all this time. “You didn’t know how to deal with it, so you shut down. I get that, but you can’t keep living like this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to live,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, that was not nothing. You just admitted something. That’s good. Please, Eliza,” she begged, “Let me help you get out of this spiral you’re in.”

Eliza threw her arms up. “What do you want from me? Do you want to hear about the fact that I found out that my father was alive? Or that Tony lied to me about all of it? That I have an infinity stone inside of me? That I’ve been hearing a voice in my head that somehow turned into a real person? That I’ve been having hallucinations?” she sucked in a sharp breath, realizing she stopped breathing halfway through the speech.

It all came spurting out of her like a broken waterline, and those have always been hard to fix.

“Or- or that I found out Hydra was still out there, hm?” she challenged. “That they wanted me solely for my blood? Or that my father sold me out? Or how about the part where I slept with Daredevil, like, many times and it was good fucking sex, but that’s not the point! He somehow fell in love with me, but I couldn’t love him back, so we broke up,” she said. “How does that sound?”

Meanwhile, Mrs. Darcy scribbled down her notes without even looking at the paper. She kept her eyes on Eliza, silently telling her that while she was doing something else, she had her full attention. She hated that look in her eyes. It always managed to make her break.

“Oh, and the Avengers came back. Surprise, surprise! But they knew about my past too, before I even did, so they lied. They all lied to me. Do you want to hear that? Do you want to hear about all the lies I’ve uncovered, told to me by the people I used to call my only family?”

She tilted her head. The motion infuriated her. “What else?” Mrs. Darcy asked, challenging her, and she refused to let her talk down on her, so she continued.

In her state of rage, she wasn’t in control of her words.

“Well, I can also offer you the fact that I dumped my friends to use my father to get into the White Room, which Hydra rebuilt realistically, may I add, and for the first time, I saw where I come from, so I had like this huge explosion of power that did a lot of fucked up things to our reality. Then, Hydra took me,” Eliza continued with a short laugh, “That was planned. Plot twist, I know. Turns out, the man who took my childhood was responsible for it all along. Viktor is his name. I can finally say it.”

And it felt good.

“I killed a man,” she said. She searched for any sign of resentment in the woman’s eyes, but she was met with the same steel façade she always wore.

Her nostrils flared as she huffed, shaking her head and cracking her knuckles behind her back. “He sang the lullaby Viktor used to sing for me. That stupid song… I snapped and it felt so fucking good.” Eliza licked her lips. “I can still feel his blood on me and I loved every second of watching that man die at my hands,” she said.

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?” Mrs. Darcy questioned and although the question was more than rhetorical, she had that particular glint in her eyes that she always had when she tried to provoke a reaction – she meant nothing and yet everything exactly the way she said it.

Her approach was different, radical and it worked. She hated that it worked. Her heart raced, blood boiling and the pent-up air in her joints released with every tense roll of her shoulders. She tried her hardest not to show how much this was affecting her, but there was nothing she could slip past the woman who had seen her through the worst of the worst and still continued to stay strong, not at all freaked or defeated. She could push as hard as she wanted, Mrs. Darcy was having none of it. The transparency came with the job.

“I tried to kill Viktor too, I already had the gun in my hand. I could have ended it right then and there, but I didn’t. Instead, I left to save the people who only lied to me time and time again. For what? To be lied to again?” Eliza sneered. “You want to know the best part? When I got out and we won, my not-brother came out to shoot me because he is- was a greedy little bastard that couldn’t deal with the fact that his idol loved me more than him,” she told her.

“I died, except that I didn’t. The whole time my heart stopped, I was in this abandoned hospital, going through all of the memories Hydra managed to wash out of me. I went from door to door and I saw my life flash before my eyes. That was hard.”

She sighed in defeat, hoping she got the most of it out and that she would finally ease her torture now, give her the freedom to walk and never look back. She wanted to so desperately, she would have done just about anything.

The world suffocated her under its weight that rested on her overworked shoulders again, and she could no longer hold it upright. “Can I go now?” she asked, still absent, still apathetic.

Eliza put a distance between her and the events she mentioned, turning them into the plot of a bad story instead of reality. That way, it became less real and she didn’t have to worry about the way the truth made her feel.

It was silly. She had to tell herself it was. It had to be. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t let it break her. She was stronger than that. She was stronger than the broken girl they all saw her as. Giving in would only give them what they wanted.

“There is so much to unpack here,” Mrs. Darcy replied nonchalantly. She closed her notebook again, choosing to take a different approach. “What exactly did you see?” she asked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can we not do this?” she said. The please got caught in her throat.

“Eliza, what did you see?”

She shrugged as she slid down the wall, seating herself on the floor. Everything else felt too damn soft.

“You know-”

Eliza intercepted. “I watched my mother die,” she told her.

Mrs. Darcy leaned forward on her elbows. “Okay.”

“And my father tried to be good to me, but I guess I went a bit out of control. I saw myself hurt our neighbor when I was just one year old because he, uh, yelled at me and I couldn’t have that, so my body lashes out. No, the stone did. I don’t know, I wasn’t in control. I wasn’t there.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Angry,” she answered. “All of this… it makes me so fucking angry. You make me angry.”

The therapist smiled. There it was, the pressure point she had been waiting for. She pushed her finger down on the bruise by saying, “And what do you have to be angry about?”

“All of it!” Eliza cried out. “My mother died because she chose my life over hers. My father failed to raise me, so he felt the need to give me away. Asgard wanted me, but instead of giving me to people who understood what was wrong with me, he made me join a program for powered children. He gave me to Hydra because he thought they could help me, and then Viktor took me in and he made me believe that he was the only man in my life who mattered,” she said. “And it makes me angry that I didn’t fight back. I didn’t fight back when they experimented on me. I didn’t fight back when they taught me how to kill, how to fight, and how to use the energy running through my veins. And I didn’t fight back when I was paraded like a zoo animal or when Viktor…” she dropped her head in her hands, grunting, “I didn’t fight back when he touched me. I let him tell me that I was only deserving of his love, that his word was all that mattered. I fucking let him take my childhood instead of fighting back.”

“Are you just angry or is there something else in there, perhaps? Another emotion you can’t quite place?”

“I’m ashamed! Is that what you want to hear? I’m ashamed of myself!” She knocked her head back against the wall. “I remember every single time he used his belt to punish me. He whipped me until I couldn’t breathe anymore; he whipped me until I was bleeding on the floor. I have the scars to prove it. Every time I look into the fucking mirror, I’m reminded of what I got and what he thought I deserved,” she said. “And I remember his hands… God, his fucking hands! And when I stood across from him in the White Room and he said all those things, I- I almost fell for them, do you understand? I believed what he said. I believed that I was a monster only he could love and that the people around me only get hurt because it’s me they’re around. And he was right, he was fucking right because now everyone I’ve ever cared about has gotten hurt in one way or another and I’m alone. I’m so fucking alone, I don’t know what to do. I need to keep them far away from me so I won’t get hurt again. So I won’t be the one to break them. But nobody gets that. You don’t get it!” she cried. “You’re supposed to get it but you don’t.”

Mrs. Darcy hummed. “But didn’t you choose to be alone?” she asked.

Eliza angrily wiped her cheek before rising back to her feet. “No, you don’t get to do that,” she bellowed. “You don’t get to say that to me. You don’t get to make me the villain of this story.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then.”

“I don’t… oh, fuck you! I know it’s my fault I’m alone. That’s why I never let myself fall for people. I used to let men use me and abuse me because Viktor did and I thought I deserved that.”

“But you didn’t deserve that. Sexual assault is not something that’s the victim’s fault, ever.”

“Well, at least I couldn’t hurt anyone back then. If I let them hurt me, there’s less chance of them getting hurt because of me.”

She chuckled. “That didn’t work so well, did it?”

“Yeah, that’s I’m trying very hard not to connect with people right now. You’re fucking that plan up, not me.”

She diverted her gaze out of the window. Eliza was trying her hardest not to cry. Somehow the sight of the roses outside made her choke up though. Roses were such beautiful flowers, and as the butterflies passed by she finally stopped to wonder, “What have I done?”

“What if,” she began, her voice cracking, so she swallowed and tried again, “What if, after everything that I’ve gone through, something’s gone wrong inside me… something bad.”

Mrs. Darcy gave her signature sigh. “You are not a bad person. Far from it, actually,” she said.

“But I killed someone.”

“Because the song you mentioned triggered the mechanism Viktor put inside of you with his constant brainwashing. You responded because there will always be a part of you that associates his voice with following his demands, any demands. That’s trauma, Eliza. Trauma doesn’t just go away.“

She leaned her forehead against the glass. Once again, the voices in her head kept shouting. The monster tore at her brain cells and poisoned her soul. She didn’t want to listen to them, she wanted to listen to Mrs. Darcy, but it was hard when all the sounds were overlapping and she couldn’t focus on anything but her labored breathing.

“I believe you were confronted with so many feelings, you didn’t know how to act, and the love you received only reminded you of what happened. It’s twisted and doesn’t make sense, but Viktor traumatized you. Hydra traumatized you. The constant reminder of what they’ve done to you has manifested and maybe you just didn’t want to be yourself anymore, so you shut down.”

She hated herself. She wished she could exchange her mind and body for something else, something new, a piece of her that wasn’t damaged goods. Perhaps then she would finally have a place in the world.

Her leg bounced up and down to the beat of her speeding pulse. She wiped her cheeks, shaking her head no, because no, she was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to know Eliza better than she knew herself, and put the things she struggled to voice into words that made sense even to her twisted state of mind. If she allowed her in, she was done for. She would officially be the basket case.

Her defenses were close to crumbling. She was barely holding on to what was left.

Mrs. Darcy sensed that and made sure to point the gun straight at her weakest spot and pull the trigger. “Your mind is trying to protect itself,” she explained in all of her psychological glory, “but the real you is starting to come through and it makes you rethink what you did, subconsciously at least. That’s normal and that’s more than okay. You’re allowed to snap. It’s the trauma that’s wrong, not you. The way you’re feeling is not your fault and there is hope for you to get better; nothing has gone wrong inside of you. It’s just trauma, nothing more, and lucky for you, trauma can be dealt with if approached correctly.”

Eliza scoffed.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I feel like part of me died on that table,” she winced. “And the voices in my head keep telling me to destroy myself. In their opinion, everything is my fault and I don’t deserve to breathe.”

“And that makes you angry?” Mrs. Darcy asked to clarify. “Being controlled by forces that are out of your control? Having depression possess you and you’re helpless and can’t fight back?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

This was no life worth living.

“Let me tell you something,” she switched positions by seating herself on the edge of the table, “Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person or a bad one to have those a part of you,” she said.

“Then why does it feel that way?”

“Well, there are many different people on this planet. All of us struggle with something different. You might have different fears than me and we’re obviously on very different paths. However, when we get down to the core of it, there are two things that every single human being on this planet struggles with.”

“What’s that?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

Mrs. Darcy smiled back at her. “Admitting when we’re wrong, and admitting when we’re broken.”

When she didn’t answer, the therapist reached for the chair next to her. She pulled out a cardboard box with differently colored toys, soft ones from the look of it, and she shoved it toward her.

Eliza frowned. “What’s that?”

“How about we throw some shit against the wall,” she offered. “How does that sound?”

“Throw some shit against the wall?” she repeated.

“Yes. You say you’re angry, I want to know what exactly you’re angry about.”

She looked at her a bit perplexed. Mrs. Darcy was very equipped when it came to talking, but this was a new method, even for her. She had never suggested she let her anger out on objects, let alone throw things. The suggestion took her so off guard, the tears stopped before they could even come.

“Here,” she handed her a pink, fluffy dolphin, “Throw it.”

She followed her demand only hesitantly. The dolphin didn’t even make it halfway across the room before it hit the ground instead. She gnawed on her bottom lip.

Mrs. Darcy sighed. She pushed herself up to her feet, grabbed one of the blue squishy balls out of the box, and threw it with full force against the wall. Eliza raised her eyebrows at the sheer strength of her therapist.

“Your throw was pathetic,” she stated. “Try again.”

Determined to prove her wrong - because everything in Eliza’s life was somehow a competition she wanted to win - she grabbed a stuffed animal from the collection and aimed it at the wall. This time, she hit her target. The hard eyes of the dog hit the wood with a loud thud.

“Tell me, what were you thinking when you threw that dog?”

“That sounds so wrong. Uh… I was thinking about beating you, mostly.”

“That’s fair. Life’s a competition, I get it. Now, grab another one and put some more anger into it. Really use that strength you were given. Don’t think, just do it. Be angry.”

She did as she was told. The next toy hit the wall and this time, she cried out, “Viktor took my childhood and my pride, and I’m angry it took me so long to realize that he was entirely wrong in his assessment of me,” she said.

Mrs. Darcy clapped. “Good! What else? Keep ‘em coming.”

“I’m angry that my family lied to me!” Eliza aimed another toy at the wall. She was sure she would leave holes in it after. “I’m angry that my father gave me away and that he sold me out! And I’m angry that he sacrificed himself to stop Hydra and save my life because he was my fucking dad – he’s supposed to be here, not dead! He supposed to be alive and make amends not take the coward’s way out and fucking die on me!”

Tears had started to form in her eyes again, but she didn’t stop them this time.

The collection in the box shrunk. She reached aimlessly, throwing the next best object against the wall. Her voice boomed. “Tony was supposed to help me. He promised me he would always help me,” she said. “Natasha was supposed to be my sister. Clint was like a father to me. They were supposed to be my family and they still lied! They all betrayed me. Every single one of them.

“I’m angry that I killed that man, and that I didn’t see Ivan coming before he shot me. I’m angry that it took me almost dying to remember everything, and that I turned into a ghost after I woke up. I’m angry that I hurt Matt more than once after I promised him and myself that I wouldn’t do it. And then I took drugs because I was angry and in pain and I wanted to feel nothing, which only made me feel worse. It makes me fucking,” she threw the ball, “hate,” she threw another toy, “myself!” She grabbed the last object and this time, she left a clear indentation in the wall.

Her scream was agonizingly loud, traveling as an echo through the room, bouncing off the walls and filling the entire compound with negative energy, it seemed.

“But most importantly I’m angry that he fell in love with me and I don’t know shit about my feelings!” Another scream and the cardboard box soared against the wall. “Oh, God,” she went weak in the knees, falling to the floor, “I’m incapable of love.”

She heaved one last breath before the gates of hell opened and she broke down completely. Tears spilled from her eyes and her sobs turned into a cacophony of screams and hiccups. She held tightly onto the crystal necklace she had not once taken off.

The world around her crumbled, and the monster in her head drowned in the flood. The voices left, though the emptiness in her soul remained, and the hole only grew wider. With each sob, she lost another ounce of strength. Her heart got tied in a knot.

Mrs. Darcy knelt next to her. “That’s good,” she cooed. “Let it out.”

“No.” Eliza pushed her hand away. “I- I don’t want to let it out. I just want the pain to stop. Why won’t it stop? Oh, God!”

She helped her off the floor and into one of the chairs.

“Your not-boyfriend boyfriend is catholic, isn’t he?”

What does that have to do with anything? She only sobbed harder.

Her therapist seemed to be onto something though.

“It's rather funny. Every civilization to exist has made up some sort of God or religion. It's like we can't stand to be alone in this."

Eliza focused on her voice.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re not the only one who feels alone most of the time,” Mrs. Darcy said. “We all do. Some people rely on faith, for example. They channel all of their negative energy and bring it to church because God gives them a purpose in life. They believe he guides them. And then there are people like you, people who are traumatized and who don’t see a point in religion. You find something else to hold onto. Pushing people away only makes the pain worse. You need someone to hold onto; if you want to stop being in pain, you need to stop pushing people away. That’s the only way.”

She focused on the woman’s breathing and the way her words sounded. Her sobs died down only slowly. The tears kept flowing, but she could breathe again, the sounds reduced to small hiccups whenever she took a deep breath.

Mrs. Darcy offered her a drink of water and she took it gladly. The liquid helped with her sore throat, clearing some of the fog in her brain along the way.

She waited until she had calmed down to continue. It was sweet torture, but it seemed to help.

If this was what she had needed all along, she made quite the fool out of herself. And just like that, the guilt settled back in and built a nest in her soul.

“The worst part is,” Eliza eventually found her voice again, though only weakly as she spoke, “I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. One second I’m fine, the next I feel like dying and then I’m just empty. And I’m standing here, like a fool,” she said. “I can’t do anything about it. This swirl of nothingness keeps me tied to the ground and while I’m supposed to be in pain – I think I’m supposed to be, anyway – I don’t feel a thing. I’m numb to the point it’s excruciating, so it is painful but not really, not at all. What if… what if this is what I’m supposed to be? Just one broken amalgamation of broken pieces people will continue cutting themselves on. I mean, how am I supposed to live when my own body doesn’t want to anymore? When my mind is so tired, it can’t stop thinking, what if- what if I’d died that day?”

She stopped to swallow. The vulnerability tasted bitter on her tongue, triggering a wave of nausea. Facing the truth hurt like a bitch.

“I keep thinking maybe it would’ve been kinder if they’d just let me pass. At least then I wouldn’t feel like such a fucking burden all the time. What if that’s all I will ever be? It’s terrifying, how much I’ve been thinking about that lately. I just want it all to stop. I don’t want to not feel, but I also don’t want to feel. I just… the things I’m feeling are confusing and I’m starting to realize that maybe, I’ve made a mistake. Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t have pushed Matt away the way I did. The things I said were cruel, Mrs. Darcy,” she said, “and he probably hates me now, but I can’t stop wanting him, even now, but especially since he’s gone. Not a day has passed in which I don’t think about him and it scares me.”

Something clicked in the therapist’s brain. She pulled out another chair and sat down across from her.

“He’s shown you quite a lot of love, hasn’t he?” she said. “And you felt suffocated by it because you’re not used to romantics.”

“No one’s ever loved me before,” Eliza admitted, her voice broken down into shambles. “I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel, but he loved me so much it hurt and I broke his heart. He cut himself on my edges because I wanted him to. I wanted him to hurt so he could move on with someone who could make him happy.”

“But he was happy with you.”

“No, he wasn’t. It was merely co-dependency. He fell in love with me after we leaned on each other in an impossible situation,” she said. “That’s inherently different.”

“Is it though?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

Eliza thought about it. Their relationship had been toxic, there was no doubt about it, simply because she was toxic. He deserved a much better girlfriend than her. She wasn’t made for this, and while she warned him, nothing could have prepared him for the storm that she brought on. She always did. She destroyed everyone she was with – that was the reason for her lack of relationship experience. She had never allowed any of her endeavors to go this far. Perhaps that was precisely the problem though.

She wiped her snotty nose. “He looks at me in a way that makes me want to believe in myself. Ironic, really, ‘cause he’s blind, but… yeah, I don’t know.” She returned to playing with her fingers in her lap, playing with the loose skin on her thumb once again. Her thigh twitched every so often, shaking up and down in a steady rhythm.

“You were scared of that, weren’t you?”

“I don’t…” she sighed, “I don’t know anymore. What I do know is that I’m sorry for what I did to him, but it’s probably too late now anyway.”

“You’re not incapable of love,” Mrs. Darcy declared. “If anything, you’re one of the most loving people I’ve ever met. You care deeply, you just haven’t had the chance to explore romantic love yet because your view on intimacy has been twisted from the very beginning… and now you’ve been betrayed numerous times and he’s shown you more affection than you’ve ever been shown, so you chose to lock him out because you were scared of what loving him would entail.”

“But I don’t love him,” she argued.

“Are you sure about that?”

Eliza got up to stare out of the window again. She couldn’t face her. She wouldn't listen to the one thing she didn’t want to hear.

Mrs. Darcy was having none of it. She joined her in front of the big glass window, sighing at the beauty of nature. The sun fell right on their faces.

“You’re right, I care. I care a lot,” she said. “Matt is just… he’s something else. And I’m not talking about sex, not at all. He’s special. I care for him a lot, everything he ever did for me, every time he smiled fondly at me, every time he praised me for the smallest things, it just felt right with him … I feel complete with him and I just want him close to me at all times, while also wanting him as far away from me as possible. His affection hurts, but at the same time, I can’t get enough of it. He makes me want to burn the world down and build it up again. Life without him is torture, which seemed to only have added to my pain, but I couldn’t let him stay. He would’ve gotten hurt sooner or later so I made the conscious choice to allow him to move on. He doesn’t deserve a toxic relationship atop everything else. I’m not used to feeling this way. I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think you are. I think you know exactly what’s going on. As I said, you’re scared and it’s keeping you from allowing anyone all the way in.”

“Don’t you get it?” Eliza sighed. “Matt loves with a certain devotion because he has only been hurt in the past and he’s scared people might leave him. He’s in a constant battle with himself, scared of never being good enough, scared of doing the wrong thing, scared of disappointing his friends. So he pushes them away. He does what he thinks is right, and it often is. When he loves someone, he loves so hard, it hurts,” she said. “He needs to hold on as tightly as possible because he is scared that if he doesn’t, he will lose that person forever. He’s scared they will walk out the door and never come back. He doesn’t just fall in love with anybody, he falls in love when he has faith that the person is the right one, so he lets them into his beautiful, big heart. He’s so scared of getting hurt, of being not good enough, and he’s… he’s scared… of love, because he’s been hurt before, but… he does it anyway. He does it because he has faith and fear… fear paralyzes, but it isn’t stronger than love.”

She blinked once, twice, feeling the metaphorical hit with the brick in every fiber of her body as she seemed to finally wake up. She opened her eyes to the truth, and the truth was right in front of her.

“Oh, my God.”

Mrs. Darcy might as well have held up a mirror for her to look into. She would have said the same thing.

“Fucking- oh, what have I done?”

The woman smirked knowingly. “Something you want to share with the class?” she teased.

Eliza had other plans. The realization hit her so hard, it felt like a semi-truck just ran her over. She grabbed her jacket from the chair, throwing it over her shoulders. She almost twisted her arm, she was that eager. Her heartbeat picked up at the mere thought of seeing him again.

“I’m so fucking stupid. An idiot! I am an idiot. Officially, I’m the dumbest fucking person on this goddamn planet. Fuck me. Oh, shit!”

The series of swear words surprised Mrs. Darcy, as did the girl’s sudden movements to get her clothes in place.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Eliza stared at her. “I need to fix this.” Duh.

“Sorry, what?”

“I have to fix this. I was so stupid, I didn’t realize… he’s me. He’s me! Matt is me.”

“And?”

“And I’m an idiot.”

“You already said that.”

“Just… I need to fix this. I need to try and salvage what’s left. I have to… there has to be a way. I can’t… God, I was so stupid. I have to try, at least. I need to tell him,” she said. Her converse clicked against the floor as she jumped up to hug her therapist. “Thank you!” The first genuine smile spread across her face. She hadn’t smiled like that since before she got shot and Hydra took her.

Sometimes, the truth isn’t that bad. Sometimes, realization can be exciting. And sometimes, or most of the time, therapy sets a lot of shit right.

There was still so much to unpack, so much to heal, and the topic of her addiction had to be explored further, but at that moment all Eliza could think about was Matt and how incredibly stupid she had been. Blind, too. She had been blind, afraid to look into the mirror and see the truth. She was pathetic and completely idiotic, in a pathetic way that made her embarrassed even for the way she breathed, and she had to pull herself together and fix this or else she would hate herself until the end of time.

She forgot that the door was locked and ran straight into it. “Damn it,” she cursed.

Mrs. Darcy didn’t hesitate long. She pulled out a key and the door opened with a small twist.

Eliza exhaled. The door handle crashed into the wall behind it, breaking the wood. “Thank you,” she said.

The woman was about to say something, but she had already taken off down the hallway.

“Young love,” she sighed. “So predictable.”

Eliza found her way out of the compound. She jogged to the nearest street where she waved frantically until one of the few cabs stopped for her. “I need to get to Hell’s Kitchen as fast as you possibly can,” she told the driver. “Life or death situation.”

As soon as she said that, he floored the gas.

She only began to think about her decision when she was already halfway there. All the things she thought she wanted to say vanished from her brain. She even rehearsed a speech, but the familiar streets of Hell’s Kitchen stole her breath, and she couldn’t string together a single viable thought.

The cabby stopped when she patted his shoulder. Her hands were shaking as she handed him the money. She could see him clearly out of the cab’s window. He almost reached his front step, wearing one of his work suits, and his cane tightly clutched in his hand as he walked down the street.

She jumped out of the backseat just in time.

“Matt, wait!” she called out.

He froze. His head tilted in her direction, listening to the way her heart sang the all too familiar song. She was warm and freshly showered and she still wore the same shirt and leggings combo SHIELD had given her after she woke up. It was a fresh pair, of course, and the pair of Converse was new too. She seemed healthy otherwise, only slightly malnourished, overworked and tired.

Matt was more shocked than surprised to sense her presence, and the way her heart jumped at his sight had him frowning even deeper.

“Eliza?” he asked.

Her systems malfunctioned. “Hi,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. She more than deserved his harsh tone, but it still hurt.

She balled her fists, walking up to him. It was now or never, and she hadn’t come this far just to stay silent and stare at him like a total creep. Though he looked too good not to let her gaze linger for a little while longer.

“I, um…” Eliza cleared her throat. “Okay, so, I actually thought of this amazing speech on the drive here, but I just… I forgot, so I’m just gonna freestyle.”

“Okay?” There was reservation on his face. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she suspected they matched his entire attitude.

She cleared her throat again, the lump only growing bigger. “I’m sorry,” she said. “And I’m well aware sorry doesn’t cut it even close. I hurt you more than once and I broke your heart in the process. I said terrible things to you, things I didn’t even mean. I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve any of that and I am so sorry for what I did. But I also know you don’t trust me right now, which is fair. I… okay, the past couple of days I trained my ass off to get back on my feet, and while that worked perfectly, I pushed away the real problem, which was me. I’m the problem.

“No, I’m the one with the problems. You were right, I need help. The things that happened kept me awake at night, making it impossible to sleep and I only felt suffocated by your kindness, so I started to resent you,” she said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away when things got hard and I should have talked to you about what was wrong with me instead of ignoring all the obvious signs that my mental health was getting bad again. That is no excuse for my behavior, far from it, I just… I spent the past, I don’t know, eight hours talking to my therapist and I felt so stupid, so humiliated, I wasn’t sure if I was even gonna make it out of this. But I realized something. I realized something that I should have realized a long time ago.”

Matt darted his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m glad to hear you’re okay,” he said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

Eliza nodded. She deserved it, she deserved all of that. Maybe she was too late, maybe he had moved on, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“You don’t take sugar in your latte, but you take one in your regular coffee and just the slightest amount of creamer,” she began.

His ears perked up. She was going all in now, all or nothing, the winner would take it all and she prayed to a God she didn’t believe in that all of this trying wouldn’t be for nought and he would declare her the winner in the end – the winner of his heart. The winner of his forgiveness. She would do just about anything to get back what she lost; she had given the best thing in her life away as if he had been an object at an auction. There was no price she wouldn’t pay to get him back.

Once she knew she had his full attention, she dared to inch closer. “And you prefer chamomile tea over any of the other flavors because it’s not as strong, though you said it’s also because chamomile tea still tastes good when you let it set for just a little shorter than what’s written on the box,” she said. “You keep your most used spices on the right side because you are right-handed and it makes it easier for you to grab things. Your furniture stands a certain way and you refuse to move it. You use silk sheets because cotton feels like sandpaper on your skin. You have curtains, but you don’t close them because you don’t need them, but since we’ve known each other I’ve noticed you closing them every night so I could sleep better. You also have this habit of fidgeting with your fingers,” She broke off with a chuckle. “It’s adorable. You do it when you’re nervous or just thinking, and when you’re condescending, you place your hands on your hips.

“And you also keep tags on your suits and your everyday clothing, but not on your sleep shirts or your underwear. You have a collection of canes in the closet because you like to throw them around when you happen to hear something while you’re outside. And when you get overstimulated, you like to sit in the shower and listen to the water rain down on the tiles to lull your sense of hearing.”

She watched his body language. He turned his head anywhere but her direction, though she knew he was listening closely to what she said. There was a slight cut on his lip, she realized, and the shadow of a bruise formed around his left eye. She wondered what happened since he left; if he started beating up criminals again, or if he just let someone beat him senseless to make the pain go away.

“Rain is your favorite weather because it drowns out the noise of New York,” Eliza continued, ignoring the ache in her chest at the sight of him. “I know you don’t like summer because you often get too hot, winter is too cold for you, so you prefer spring or fall. You like the taste of peppermint and pumpkin spice, but only when it’s made a certain way, or else you get overwhelmed. This is why you don’t go to the expensive coffee shops, only to those you know and frequent because you know they always get your coffee order right. It’s usually the same, but not always. Sometimes, you like to be adventurous. Many people see you as a very serious person, but you’re not. You know how to crack a joke and the wrinkles around your eyes prove that you used to laugh a hell of a lot more. And your smile… God, that smile.

“You know, the genuine one you don’t give everyone, the one you often match with a giddy laugh or a giggle, it lights up every room you’re in, even though you only show it every once in a while,” she chuckled, “And every time you walk into a room, you take everyone’s breaths away because you are just so damn beautiful. Something you refuse to believe,” she said.

“And you are a man who believes in many things, just not in himself. You think you’re worthless because you’ve been hurt many times before, but when you care for someone, you care for them deeply, past experiences be damned. It’s remarkable how much good you see in this broken world. I know that you struggle with faith more often than not, but you always come back to it. Always,” Eliza emphasized with the strength of an army. “It offers you solace and reminds you of your childhood, which isn’t often paired with happy memories, but you feel less alone when you pray. Faith gives you something to hold onto.”

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. It was hard to tell what he was feeling or even thinking. He stood as stiff as stone, turning away from her as if he could see and the sight of her filled him with disgust.

“I’m not religious, far from it,” she admitted, though it was a well-known fact. “My heart is full of the hate of some other man’s belief. All that I’ve been taught and every word I got right now if I can even find them, are foreign to me. I’m mostly empty inside, I pretend to be a hero and then I go around breaking people’s hearts, I’m a fraud, and when I went to church, I didn’t know what God to pray to, I just poured my heart out to someone I don’t believe in. He’s foreign to me. Everything in this world is still somewhat foreign to me because my life has long revolved around being told what to do or believe, and I took that with me. When I got out, I didn’t really get out. I never really came back. I’m broken,” she stated, “but you’re perfect, even with your broken edges and your imperfections. Your eyes are wide open to the world even though you can’t see, and you’re always filled with so much love for everything and everyone around you, it’s almost sickening. I thought your love was making me sick, but I was so wrong. So, so wrong, Matt. I would give all this and heaven too if only for a moment I could just understand the meaning of the world you see. I’ve been scrawling it for what feels like fucking forever and it never made sense to me before. The world meant nothing before you came around. I didn’t understand it, but it makes sense to me now. It all makes sense.”

He finally turned to her. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means that I am unconditionally, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with you!” Eliza burst at the seams. “I have been from the day you first kissed me. Hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since you stepped into that stupid interrogation room to bail me out. It’s because you came back. No one’s ever done that for me before. I was stupid and so scared of love that I pushed all of my feelings down. But you’ve occupied every thought I had ever since you left, and I can’t seem to get you out of my head. You’re always there, everywhere I go. Everything reminds me of you and it hurts to know you’re not there. I wondered why… this is why!”

Matt folded his cane, dropping it on the doorstep.

“I’m in love with you, Matthew Michael Murdock, and it feels so fucking good to finally say it out loud. Everything makes sense now. It feels like I can finally breathe again; after all this time of walking in the darkness, I’ve finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m choosing to walk toward it,” she said. “And I know that I’ve hurt you, I’ve hurt you badly, and there is a very big chance I might not be able to fix this… there is a chance that you have fallen out of love with me, that you don’t love me anymore because of what I’ve done, and I’d understand that. I’d understand if you rejected me or told me to go to hell, but please, say something before I make an even bigger fool out of myself. I really can’t find any more words to say that would make sense to anyone but myself. I mean, I’ve already embarrassed myself, so I guess it can’t get any worse, but...”

“Eliza?” he said.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

She gasped audibly when he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him with a strength that remained unmatched, and crashed his lips into hers.

Eliza melted into the kiss instantly, her hands coming up to hold his face. He had the same idea. As she pushed back against him, he gently brushed his fingers over her cheekbone. His lips still moved feverishly against hers, and she submitted to him completely. He chose the pace and the intensity, he explored her mouth with his tongue and she let him.

Eventually, he dove up for air, and she stared at him breathlessly as the moonlight fell on his face and reflected off his glasses. She pressed her forehead against his, breathing him in. He showered with his body wash again, and his hair was fluffy from his shampoo. She had missed his signature scent and the way his body molded with hers.

Matt removed his glasses, tossing them in the direction of his cane. They landed on the ground. He grabbed her face again, not wasting another second to combine them into one. Her nails raked over his jaw, the other getting lost in his chestnut hair. She sighed and he took the opportunity to deepen the connection.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt as if it had just been the previous day when she pushed him away and now he was kissing her in front of his home after she expressed her love for him. A love she had undoubtedly felt from the beginning but hadn’t allowed herself to feel until it was too late - almost too late.

His kisses grew more desperate and Eliza had to physically restrain herself from sliding her hand down his body. He had been working out, there was no doubt about it.

He pulled away once again, this time opening his eyes so she could see him fully. There it was again, the look he had given her so many times before, and he could finally pinpoint the one she gave him, the one she didn’t know how to explain before.

“So,” she murmured, “do you hate me?”

Matt chuckled hoarsely. “You are the dumbest smart person I have ever met,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I love you too, you insufferable dumbass. That hasn’t changed. I’m in love with you, Liz, all of you, even the parts that are a little ugly. I couldn’t stop loving you even if I tried and believe me, I tried, but it’s just not possible when it comes to you. I’m in love with you,” he said, “Nothing you do or say could ever change the way I feel so deeply about you.”

“Oh.“

“Seriously, did you think I’d kiss you and then tell you to go to hell?”

“I have no idea. I thought-”

“Stop thinking.” He pulled her face toward his again. “I don’t care how many times you hurt me, I still love you like I did the first day. Even though you annoy the shit out of me sometimes. You did on that rooftop the night we first met, but instead of hating you I think I fell in love from the moment you first tried to punch me. You took me so off guard with the amazing, badass, fucking reckless woman that you are and I fell for you right then and there.”

“Why though?” she wondered.

“Because you bewitched me, body and soul,” he told her. “You weren’t really fair about the whole thing.”

“Oh, fuck me.” Eliza initiated the kiss this time, though when she pressed her lips against his, she used her whole body to push into him.

He groaned, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her right there, her chest pressed against his, and her leg moving slowly to wrap around his hip. His hand traveled the distance, smoothing over the fabric of her pants and moving higher to brush over the curve of her ass.

He breathed into her mouth, “It’s gonna rain soon.”

“I don’t care,” she said.

They got completely lost in the feel of each other. As predicted, the sky soon opened up to release its tears onto them. Eliza had cried enough for a lifetime and Matt probably had, too. She didn’t even want to know how much he suffered at her hand and what it made of him.

The past mattered no more though. They were together, in each other’s arms, where they were supposed to be.

She loved him, she did and admitting it took so much weight off her chest, she forgot what else had happened the past hours and days. Eliza didn’t care about Natasha or the others, she didn’t even care about the drugs. At that moment, she craved only one thing and that was him in any way he could give himself to her, and she would give herself to him freely too, just so he could do whatever he wanted. She wanted to touch him while he touched her. Kissing wasn’t even remotely enough.

The rain mixed with their salivas, making it harder to keep their faces together. Water dripped from his lashes to her own. She giggled, her hair flattening, as did his. His grin told her he was enjoying this as much as she did, kissing in the rain after a dramatic love confession.

Even though Matt didn’t watch movies and she only watched that kind when she was depressed on valentine’s day, they still found their personal rom-com moment in the midst of despair. Love didn’t come to people like them often. They had to use what they were given without questioning the universe’s intent.

Their noses pressed together. “Told you,” he said.

“I love the rain,” she told him. “It’s so beautiful. Reminds me of home.”

Throwing her head back, she felt the salty water on her flushed skin. It hadn’t been that long, but she was starting to go crazy in captivity, so she needed to have that moment for herself.

She wasn’t sure why but she associated the rain with him, not because it was cold or wet but because it had such a tragic beauty about it.

Growing old with someone required dedication, devotion, discipline, and most of all undying love for the other. They weren’t quite there yet, but she was sure she wanted more with him than just making out in the rain. She wanted more than suffering through trauma together, more than sex, and more than meaningful hugs. She wanted that, of course, but also the rest that came with love. The pretty and the ugly, the loving and fighting, the giggles, the laughter, and most of all, the happiness. She wanted to learn what it was like to be in love because she had no idea how to love, but she was willing to try, for him, because she was already in it. She was in love with him.

Matt tore her out of her thoughts with the gentlest of kisses down her neck. He breathed in her scent and felt her pulse under his lips. It jumped with excitement and he grinned. He loved having that effect on her, even now, but especially now.

“We’re gonna get sick,” he whispered into her ear.

She traced her fingers over his wet shirt. “I don’t care.”

He captured her lips, trying to ignore the shivers her touch sent down his spine. She clawed to his side, holding him impossibly tight. He smoothed her wet hair back. She sighed. If it weren’t for the cold, she would have gladly stayed longer.

“Okay, but maybe we should go inside,” she said. “It’s getting pretty wet, but not in a good way.”

He giggled, his cheeks flushed from the cold and perhaps because of her confession that filled his heart with an adoration that didn’t hurt this time. He was almost… happy. “I agree,” he said.

“C’mon. Let’s go home.”

Eliza took his hand, grabbing the glasses and his cane off the floor. He smiled softly at her consideration. Handing her the key, he merely followed as she walked them up the stairs to his apartment, a familiar route, and unlocked the door.

She didn’t get very far before he pushed her wet back against the wall and attacked her mouth with bruising kisses. Her body responded the only way it knew how to. She moaned, bucking her hips into his.

Matt kicked off his shoes, and she followed. He tucked her by the hem of her pants toward the bathroom. She let him. Her brain was fuzzy from the clear attention to detail, his lingering touches, and the caress of his lips along her cold skin. He offered her a warmth that could have dried her clothes in an instant. Though it was her heart that was warm, not her body.

He pressed another kiss to her cheek, excusing himself, and then he was gone and she was alone, and she felt insecure all of a sudden. Her arms crossed, shielding her body. He couldn’t see, but he could feel, and she wasn’t sure what he would think when he felt the way her body had changed. Even she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror. She was too repulsed by what she saw. The scars she already had were nothing in comparison to what was left of the brutal shooting at the White Room.

She tried to look cool when he returned, leaning up against the sink. “Brought you some fresh clothes,” he told her.

“Thanks,” she said.

He could tell something was off from the change in her tone. Her heartbeat sounded almost erratic. She toyed with the soft fabric of the gray sweatpants he brought for himself, and the black ones for her. She figured the grey ones were for him because he paired them with a plain shirt and she got his old Columbia shirt instead. It probably smelled like her and sex, indicating that it was the shirt she had worn many times when they fucked and no longer just a flap of fabric. And she had never seen him wear it before either, only the plain ones, so she owned it.

The shirt was hers, and he knew that too. He kept it. He kept it in the hopes of giving it to her again, and he hadn’t given them up. She came back and she could wear it as often as she wanted.

What was his was hers now, too.

He picked the white shirt. She loved that one with all her heart, thinking about the way it hugged his bicep just right and framed his torso tightly enough to give a good image of his muscles but not give away too much. He gave those who didn’t know him a good idea of what hid underneath the covers, but only she knew what laid behind the allusion. She saw it, she touched it and she now could whenever she wanted to.

The whole arrangement was new, terrifying even, and it urged her back into her cocoon. She stood strong, but she wasn’t sure for how long she could keep holding on before the jaws would snap shut, locking her in place with invisible shackles behind the bars of her mind’s own prison.

“You okay?” Matt stroked her cheek.

She answered by opening the buttons of his dress shirt one by one.

“Sweetheart,” he said again, “What’s going on in that little head of yours? Tell me. Don’t disappear on me again.”

Her hands worked fast to undress him until he was only in his boxers, standing in front of her with a slight smirk. “Do you want this?”

She nodded. It wasn’t verbal confirmation. He needed more than that.

“You can say no,” he told her.

“Wait,” she stuttered, halting all of her movements and daring to look at him for the first time since she started slipping away again, meeting his very concerned eyes, “I can?” she asked.

His heart dropped. “Of course, you can. I thought that was never out of question.” Matt traced her features to get a good impression of her expression.

He drew along the line on her forehead, smoothing out the small wrinkle and pressing his lips to the obvious display of emotional distress.

Eliza knew how to keep her emotions hidden away, but feeling her face always offered one crucial clue most people didn’t know existed. The crease on her forehead wasn’t one that came with age, it was a worried frown that had manifested and only showed when she started to think too much, and worried about things that were mostly irrational.

“Hey,” he cooed, “did I ever give you the impression that you couldn’t say no to sex?”

She swallowed. The line deepened, this time though because she panicked and the confusion started to mix with the I’ll-placed concern. “No!” Eliza answered quickly, shivering under the caress of his thumb over the prominent worried wrinkle. “I just… I wasn’t sure… I wanted this,” she said, “Until I didn’t, but I didn’t want to disappoint you. I just got you back. So I thought I could roll with it, I guess. I thought I would start wanting it again, I just had to try. Didn’t want to make you question your decision to take me back because you feel like I don’t really want you.”

“What? Oh, baby, who hurt you?”

She whimpered when he pulled her into a hug. His body was warm, even when wet. She melted once again, wrapping her arms around him.

“I know people have pushed you into having sex before, but I won’t. I would never,” he said. “You know that. You should know that. I should have made that clearer.”

“It’s not you, I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. No means no.”

“I don’t like my body right now. You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “but I feel far from it, so thinking about your hands on me, I…” the tears sprung back into action.

He sighed, rubbing his thumbs over her swollen under-eyes. “I’m sorry, I should have checked in with you.”

“Don’t, please.”

“Never feel like you can’t say no to me,” he told her. “It hurts me to know that you’ve never had that option before. I’m different from all of the lowlife men you’ve been with in the past. I love you,” Matt pecked her lips, “And I find you to be the most beautiful person out there, so I would love nothing more than to touch you any chance I get, but it’s your body, your choice, and if you say you don’t feel like being touched, that’s your right. Never think that I would be angry at you for saying no, okay? Promise me you’ll tell me from now on?”

She shuddered against him. “Okay.”

“That’s good, sweetie. Thank you.”

“I love you so much, Matthew. I really want to want this… I want the intimacy, I want to feel you, but I just can’t…”

He shushed her again by kissing the Sorry lines away from her forehead. “Would you like to take a bath with me?” he suggested.

She nodded weakly.

“Hot bath,” he turned on the tap to fill the tub with water, “Always makes you feel better. I won’t even have to touch anywhere you don’t want me to while you can still feel my skin on yours. Innocently, of course.”

“I already feel better,” Eliza said.

He took her back into his arms, helping her out of her shirt without touching her skin. She slipped out of her soaked pants and her underwear. Matt removed his boxers, the last piece of clothing left between them.

She sighed at the sight of him. He was still just as beautiful. Her fingers traced over the outline of his abs and his swollen scars. She wanted him to touch her too, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t have him trailing his fingers down her torso, feeling the thick scar that stretched from where her breasts ended to her navel. The scars from the entry wounds where the bullets penetrated her skin had healed circularly, and the scar tissue there was thick. She didn’t want to think about how awful they would feel to him.

Eliza climbed into the tub first. The water was warm, but not too hot, the perfect temperature. He waited for her to get adjusted before he slid down behind her, pulling her flush against his chest from behind.

She sighed, relaxing into him fully. His arm reached around her shoulders, offering even more stability. Her hand tangled in his hair. She pulled him down until she could kiss his lips, taste the rain on them and slip her tongue inside his very hot mouth.

The foam from the bath water stuck to his skin. It smelled of lavender, but only slightly. Mixed with the vanilla of her skin, the sensations exploded like the perfect cake batter on his tongue.

Eliza watched the water trickle down his bicep. That stupid bicep. Every time he flexed, really flexed, she died a little inside. In a good way though. In a way that had her aroused almost instantly just at the prospect of being choked by those arms, or the way they tensed when his fingers were deep inside of her or holding her hips down as his head dove between her thighs, eating her out as if he hadn’t eaten in months.

She loved to watch his arms in the tight confines of his dress shirts, threatening to break the fabric, or when he rolled his sleeves up. There was something so beautiful yet sexually attractive about his arms and the muscles that made them, but even without flexing there was something about the way he was built that had her on her knees just thinking about it.

She kept running her hands over them long after they got out of the tub, dried off, and moved to the couch. The different colors of the billboard she had missed danced across the room. She sat with her back pressed against his chest again, a blanket draped over their warm bodies, and they lay there together, basking in the comfort of silence.

She could easily fall asleep like this.

Matt caught onto her exhaustion and started to run his fingers through her wet curls. “I’m so glad you came back,” he said.

“I’m glad you took me back,” she said.

He chuckled, “I considered not to when I heard you get out of that cab, but the things you said… no one’s ever paid this much attention to me before.”

His eyes looked sharp and steady in the empty parts of her.

“I’m sorry for all that I did to you. If I dealt with my feelings earlier, none of this would have happened.” Her hands stilled their movements, instead curling her fingers around the sleeve of his shirt. “I should have realized that I was in love with you sooner.”

“You were going through something. That doesn’t make it okay, but I understand what it’s like, and it never made me think twice about my feelings for you.”

“That’s one of the things I love about you,” she said. “Your ability to forgive people. I did terrible things…”

“Under the control of trauma,” he cut her off. “That’s not the same as acting out of your own free will, I told you that.”

“No, I… I did some things after you were gone. I completely lost myself and I don’t think eight hours of therapy managed to fix everything.”

“We can work on that.”

“It’s gonna be a lot of work.”

He shrugged. “I’m fine with that.”

“Matt, you have to understand, I…” Eliza closed her eyes. She thought about not telling him, but it wouldn’t have been fair. “I am an addict,” she said.

“I know that,” he said.

“No, I mean, I am an addict.”

She hoped he got the hint.

His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about her words. “What do you mean?”

“It means I stole a bottle of morphine after you left and took it with me.”

His grip around her shoulders tightened. Matt placed his head in the crook of her neck, eyes closed, and he exhaled hotly against her skin. “I know,” he said.

“You know?” She stammered. “What? How?”

“The marks on your arms,” his finger traced over the crook of her elbow and she instantly withdrew her arm, embarrassed about how obvious the reddened spots were from the lack of treatment, “I felt them while we were in the tub. I didn’t want to say anything because it was not my place, but I knew when I felt them. But they’re more than three days old and your heart sounds normal, so that tells me you’ve been clean since then.”

“Because Fury stole my drugs. If he hadn’t found out, I think I would still be using. I… I wouldn’t have realized what I truly felt for you. I was destroying myself,” her voice cracked and he only held on tighter, “I was purposely hurting myself and if Maria hadn’t snitched on me, I’m sure that I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Matt pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “But you are here right now, that means you want to get better,” he said.

“I do. I want to get better.”

“See? We can do this. I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

She nodded.

“I don’t see colors anymore.” Eliza exhaled shakily, looking up to prevent the inevitable from happening. “I touch you and I feel nothing. I walk around and I feel no emotions in the air except for my own. It’s just... gone.”

“What about your other powers?” he asked. “Are they gone too?”

“No,” she answered without missing a beat.

She could feel them pulsating underneath her skin, constantly reminding her of their existence, of their power and what they were capable of. The stone was sending her clear signals now. Eliza felt whole with it, like she was finally at peace with the energy she had long called a stranger.

“They’re always there, even when I don’t want them to be. I haven’t used them since… because I’m scared, but they’re there. I can feel them loud and clear. They’re a part of me now. Can’t do anything but let them in.”

His hand found its way around his throat, feeling her pulse underneath his fingers. The gesture wasn’t sexual, he was simply holding her, and she slowly calmed down.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He chuckled into her ear, “It feels so good to hear you say that.”

“Please, say it back.”

“I love you too.” His other hand stroked her arm. Goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch, spreading all over her body, but in a good way.

“Thank you.”

“When will you finally believe that I’m telling the truth when I say it?”

“When I’ve figured out what it’s like to love and be loved. Might take a while. I’m a little fucked up.”

She felt him shrug behind her. “Everyone’s a little fucked up,” he stated. “Doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

The words lay on the top of her tongue. He was seemingly the only person she could tell everything to and he would never hate her. He would never lie to her. He was the most honest person she had ever met, and he cared more about the truth than lying. It could have been the catholic in him, but she was sure that he was more than that. He had been lied to many times before, he refused to do the same to other people. That and he was taught that lying is a sin. Growing up in a catholic orphanage does a lot of things to a person.

She sucked in the air through her nose. The unshed tears still managed to stuff her nostrils with unnecessary snot, and it made her tear up again. She was vulnerable and fragile, and for the first time, she allowed herself to admit it. She was broken and needed help. She needed therapy. She needed to deal with whatever the hell was wrong with her. If not for her, she had to do it for him.

And she had to apologize to her family because she said terrible things to them too, things they didn’t deserve, even after lying to her. They swore to always protect her. By pushing away all of her feelings, she refused to let the truth get to her, and so she lashed out at them. She was too fragile, they were right. The truth tore her apart from the inside, and she only now started to feel the whole effect of it.

The pain paralyzed her.

Matt realized that she was holding back tears and he frowned. Her breathing changed, growing more erratic. “My father died,” she choked out.

“What?” he asked.

“I know I sold him out, but he was there. He was the man at the gala who caused the commotion to get us into the elevator unnoticed. He knew I’d use him as bait for Hydra, so he came prepared. He risked his life by escaping and trying to tear Hydra down from the inside while also buying me valuable time, and he sacrificed himself in the process.”

His eyes fluttered. He groaned quietly. “That’s who Natasha was talking about,” he muttered.

Eliza turned only enough to look at him. “What?”

“Natasha said something about getting help before she told us about the bombs. I was a bit caught up fighting the guys you left me with, but I heard her say something. I didn’t think much of it… God, if I had, I would have told you.”

She caressed his face. The drumming of his heart against her back told her he wasn’t lying. He taught her that. Her lips pressed to his cheek, thankful for his honesty, thankful she didn’t have to worry that he would ever keep anything from her.

He turned his head suddenly, capturing her lips once again and she chuckled at his eagerness. The first tear fell. He caught it with his finger, wiping it away.

Now that she said it, the fact that Anton was dead became reality. She could no longer deny it. He was dead, gone, and would never come back. She was an orphan now. No mother, no father, just her alone in the world. No blood relations, nothing. All because she had to pull him into a fight he didn’t sign up for. She still hated him for what he did to her, but she finally understood why he decided to give her away, and that made her hate him just a little less.

“He’s dead,” she breathed, “and I didn’t even get to tell him that there is a chance I might forgive him…”

He cradled her like a child to his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

She whimpered, pressing her face into his shirt.

“Let’s have a funeral.”

Her sobs eased up. “What?”

“I strongly believe that without a funeral, the soul is just floating around somewhere, waiting to be laid to rest… you said you wanted to forgive him and I think he knows that, even in death. You don’t even have to be religious. I can get father Lantom to make it as inclusive as possible. I’ve heard him do it before. I’m sure he’d be more than willing to do it for your father too.”

“I can’t go to another parent’s funeral,” she cried.

He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly, the vein on his forehead poked out. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I know that it hurts.”

“I just can’t believe that I just found him and now he’s already dead again. I never wanted him to die. That’s the last thing I wanted.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“He died for me.”

“He made that choice, it’s not your fault.”

“I wanted to have the chance to say goodbye, at least,” she hiccuped, “because I didn’t get to say goodbye to my mom. I didn’t even get to meet her. My father… he raised me for five years, that’s better than nothing, so a part of me does love him. Knowing he’s dead is just… it makes me feel empty and angry and overall guilty.”

“Look at it this way,” Matt tilted her cheek up so she would look at him, “He loved you, or else he wouldn’t have done what he did. He always had your best interest in mind, even though he fucked up, badly. He tried to make it up to you by taking down Hydra. That has to be worth something.”

She swallowed, nodding. “It’s worth everything.”

“He loved you, Eliza. He was your father. It’s okay to be sad, to grieve, to want to bring him back just to punch him in the face for leaving you… It’s okay.”

Eliza’s eyes softened when a tear of his own trickled down his face and got caught in his beard. She stroked over it, feeling the wetness. She felt guilty for bringing it up. He went through the same thing when he was just nine years old. Her story triggered the cruel memories of the past to crawl back to the surface. And yet, he only thought of taking care of her.

“It’s okay,” she told him.

Now her eyes looked sharp and steady into the empty parts of him.

“I know it is,” he whispered, “it’s just a lot right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. This is your time to grieve, not mine.”

“Or we could grieve together.” She smiled.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we could.”

She wiped her cheeks. Eliza made a decision. “I want the funeral,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And he’s already been cremated by a bomb, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

Matt stared blankly ahead. He wasn’t sure how to react. Was he supposed to laugh? Comfort her?

She grinned back at him. “You know, ‘cause he burned to death, so he’s already in ashes,” she repeated. “It’s supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh, my God.”

“It’s okay, you can laugh.”

“I don’t… wow!” He allowed himself to snort, which resulted in him turning his chuckle into a soft laugh. “You have the weirdest response to trauma, do you know that?” he asked.

Eliza shrugged, “A little.” She broke off into a yawn.

He kissed her temple, suggesting, “We should go to bed. It’s late and you need the rest.”

“I still have to go fix some things back at SHIELD,” she said. “They’re probably wondering where I am.”

“You can do that tomorrow. You’re too tired to leave tonight. Stay with me.” He wrapped her arms around his neck, scooping his own underneath her thighs and hoisting her up into his arms.

She yelped when he stood up without a struggle, heading for the bedroom.

“You are so strong.”

“Thanks, I work out.”

“No kidding.”

He placed her down on the mattress gently, bunching the duvet and comforter up so she could slide under it. He joined her shortly, removing most of his clothes so his skin wouldn’t rub against them as he slept. The silk was more comfortable on bare skin anyway.

She laid her cold body atop his, tangling their legs together until you could no longer tell where one started and the other ended.

Her eyes switched up to his face. The blissed-out expression on his face was too beautiful not to memorize it.

“Thank you,” she broke the silence, “for everything.”

He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m here for you, always,” he said.

“And that’s why I love you, Matthew. I love you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

She had missed that nickname. Eliza smiled almost giddily when she placed her head over his heart. No one could hurt her now. She was home, finally, and right where she was supposed to be.

Screaming in the name of a foreigner’s God is truly the purest expression of grief.

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huesohnobro · 2 years

Text

You Don't Love Her

Chapter 9: I think we were cursed from the start

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, electrocution, Natasha gets really fucking mean, slight masochism, heartbreak

“I was just thinking you would be an excellent way to get both”

The implications behind the words sent both chills of fear and jolts of curiosity coursing through her system, the crypticism of your previous statements clashing delightfully with the brutal simplicity of such insinuations. Switching from moving her fingers to her wrists, she opted to slowly move her hand to the signal emitter on her belt; if all went well then she’d be able to stall you until Steve or Tony arrived, if it didn't go well then who knows what would happen. First thing’s first: Natasha would have to stall you like her life depended on it, for all she knew it probably did. Inching her fingers toward her waist, Natasha took a deep breath and turned her face towards yours, your noses touching from your head’s position on her shoulder. Natasha pretended to miss the way that your eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again, her cheeks heating up as she forced an intense eye contact between the two of you.

“Why would I give you either? You would be put into containment the second you stepped foot into Avengers tower. Not only that, but I don't really think that I’m comfortable with being a body for some girl I don’t know.” The way you leaned your head back and laughed softly at Natasha’s skeptical tone and raised eyebrow seemed to drive the spy’s point further home in her mind. If your international criminal status wasn’t an issue the level of self assured snark that oozed from your every pore would be what got you kicked out. “Simple, I can't just make a body for her from nothing. I’d need something, someone who once housed a soul within their chest so that she could take over,” You moved your tail from behind your back to caress Natasha’s cheek, your eyes softening as you lowered your voice to a whisper. “I want it to be you.. In all of my time on this earth I have never met someone who makes my heart flutter so wildly despite the danger they pose to me. I don’t need all of you, just enough of you for the cradle to make a new chest for her soul.” Natasha’s shoulders tensed as her fingers grazed the cold material of the signal emitter, an emotional cocktail roiling violently in her chest. Pushing the button, she pushed her weight into your injured shoulder and forced you to the floor; kicking your knees in to bring you to the ground before rolling you over and pinning you to achieve her desired position. Igniting her widow’s bites, she pointed her wrist at your face and hovered over you as you groaned on the floor. Your shoulder laid stretched out and limp beside you, Natasha’s free hand pinning it to the floor. It was likely dislocated given the way it had clicked after Natasha had forced her back into it.

Setting her jaw and holding the widow bite to your neck, Natasha glowered down at you and shook her head slightly. She can’t believe she almost let herself fall for the bullshit you were spewing. The way you held her, the way you spoke about her like she was some sort of heaven sent muse, it was all just trying to talk her into giving you what you wanted. She was a hero dammit, an avenger, someone who saved the world and arrested people like you for breakfast. She refused to let you get into her head again, first it was how fucking pitiful you looked in that cell, then it was the dance, and now it’s this shit. “It’s always some kind of game with you isn’t it?! Having a conversation, fighting, dancing, it’s all just some facade to get under people’s skin isn’t it?!” “Natasha what are you talki-“ “Shut. Up.” She pushed the electric blue metal into your jugular, her fingers itching dangerously on the triggers. “I’m tired of letting you play me, fucking tired of it Y/n. So quit pretending to be in love with me before I hit you with enough voltage to charge a car battery.” The quick shrinking of your pupils gave Natasha a concerning level of satisfaction. Your breathing was erratic, whether from panic or something else Natasha wasn’t completely sure. “Who is the woman you keep talking about. What does she have to do with this, with everything you've been doing all of these years.” You swallowed dryly, your eyes focused on her arm and your sense of touch focused on the sharp metal prodding the soft skin of your neck. “I wasn’t pretending t-“

Boy, when Natasha said she was going to pump you with enough electricity to power a car, she wasn’t kidding. For one second all you could hear was ringing, and all you could feel was your muscles rapidly contracting before the pain set in. The next second you could hear your screaming, and could see the cold emptiness in Natasha’s eyes. There was no mutual affection for you there, only anger and pain; but wasn’t that what love was for you? As she tazed you, you couldn’t help the bubbling laughter that came from your chest after the shocks subsided, confusion replacing the anger. Coughing, you couldn’t help but think about how you had manipulated so many through your words alone, it’s only natural that she’d do the same with a bit of dangerous incentive. It’s a shame she didn’t realize that you hadn’t tried to do the same to her. “Who is the woman Y/n.” Smiling lazily up at her, you couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she looked in the low lighting of the HYDRA base. “She is my first love, and I’m going to bring her back so that I can love her again.” Natasha’s brow twitched as she pushed her wrist into your throat yet again. “If you love her so much why don’t you say her name.” “Names have power araña, and I'd rather not waste the power of her’s until I can hold her in my arms again. Preferably until I can hold you both in my arms toge-“ Grunting at the next shock that coursed through you, you clenched your jaw and waited it out in an attempt at silence. With heaving breaths, you opened your eyes and leaned up shakily towards your aggressor. “Araña, if you’re going to keep this up I suggest you give me something to bite down on, preferably your shoulder.”

Natasha practically bristled like a cat, exclaiming out in exasperation before wrapping her hand around your throat, her teeth clenched painfully together as smoke began to wisp around your bodies. Closing her hand around your throat, she watched as your pupils dilated and your arms struggled against the limbs that trapped them. “Stop calling me that. I’m not one of your precious little brain-washed victims who follows your every beck and call.” Your mouth remained closed, your body stilled itself as you stared into Natasha’s eyes and listened to what she had to say, the water and acid in your stomach feeling as though it was freezing over as she leaned down into you. The fingers around your throat squeezed tighter, your breathing became labored, your mind screamed for escape against your heart’s overwhelming desire to stay and see where this went. Natasha’s eyes had hardened into mossy gems as they bore into you, her breath fanning across your face. “I don’t love you, get that through your fucking head. You’re a sick, depraved monster who deserves what’s going to come to them. Even if I could, I wouldn’t love you, especially after what I’ve seen you do.” Your body shook as she spoke, hot and cold clashing over your skin in wave after wave of agony, the simple waves growing into a tsunami as she finished speaking. Footsteps pounded down toward the two of you from the hall as Natasha’s weight left your body, leaving you stranded on the ground. “Just fucking leave Y/n. We both know that's what you were going to do at the end of this anyway.” Heat and grief rose into Natasha’s neck as you rose to the floor, tremors wracking throughout your body as you regained your footing. Your right arm hung limply at your side as your left reached into your pocket, a pistol being trained on you within seconds of the action. Slipping a small rectangle of paper from your pocket, you tossed it to the ground before Natasha’s feet, eyes dark as you stared at her gun. “If you decide that you can love me, that you can want to love me, or even that you’ve had enough of me and want me gone, that card has my information.”

Taking a step back, your body faded into smoke as the door to the room of corpses flew open, the star-spangled man entering the room to find a crouched widow looking back at him, physically unharmed and yet still staring at him with empty eyes. “Let's get back to the Quinjet. Tell Tony that I got a lead.” Steve’s brows furrowed as Natasha analyzed a small slip of paper, tapping his ear piece and turning around. “Alright Tones, time to bring her home.” He looked back at the spy before the two began to walk down the hall, unnerved by the flexing of her hands, by the still-active blue glow of her widow’s bites, by the silence of her steps as she strode beside him. He knew what this meant, practically everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. did, so he kept quiet as the two left the bunker, the silence carrying on until the Quinjet lifted off, leaving their footprints in the snow of a freshly-made tomb.

Natasha’s words flew around your thoughts like a swarm of bees, your mind getting lost within the venom that they held as you teleported away. Your lack of focus forced your gift onto a sort of autopilot, dragging you to wherever it pleased; where it pleased happening to be a hill with a single tree that looked over a field of grass and flowers as they bathed in the starlight. Your eyes flitted around as your heart battered your rib cage, your palm reaching out to touch the rough bark of the tree as you sank down to your knees. Shaky fingers gripped the pendant and chain that usually rested beneath your shirt, tears running hot down your face as your forehead gently rested against the wood. The metal in your palm grew warm as pain shot up your injured arm from gripping at the overgrown grass, sobs wracking through your body into the cool night air. You were alone out here, you knew you were. There hadn’t been anyone here since the two of you on that sunny afternoon. The field was quiet as you kneeled before the tree, the very same tree that the two of you spent your afternoons rested under; the tree where she leaned her head on your shoulder, the tree you carved your initials into, the tree under which you learned of love. This tree is where your heart began to understand just why exactly it beated, and this tree is where you found yourself as your heart cracked and spewed out bloody emotion through your lungs and throat. Of course your subconscious brought you here, it's not like you had anywhere else to go. Maria was probably asleep and your new “home” is a less than ideal place to recuperate. You probably would have found a way to put a hole in the concrete pillars or break the porcelain off the edge of the tub you had found in one of the upper floors. Instead you ended up in the one place that you couldn’t destroy. The final sanctuary that you always came to rest in when everything became too much for you. Everything was the same as it had been the last time, from the claw marks and little spots of blood on the bark below carved initials to the ever so slightly singed base of the tree.

It hurt to breathe the air here, not because it was polluted or anything of that sort, but from the self perceived weight the air held within your lungs. The grass was soft under the pads of your fingers, perfuming the night air with enough sweet regret to cover the scent of sweat and electrical burn that radiated from your skin, it seemed to beckon you closer as you rested upon your knees before that great heartbroken oak. Reaching up, you gingerly ran your fingers across the jaggedly carved heart that stood proudly above your head, tattooed onto the flesh of the oak for all to see until the end of time. You wanted it gone, maybe then being here wouldn't feel like someone was stepping on your windpipe, maybe then you wouldn’t be haunted by the echoes of her laughter and her voice and how she looked at you with so much care, it made you feel as though you were the most loved person in all of the world, maybe then you could finally move on and find it within yourself to love another as much as you loved her. You wanted it gone, but you would rather fucking die than bring a blade within an inch of the messily rendered heart. The touch of the wood should burn your skin away, for the sight of the carving was far too holy for a wretch like you to be able to lay claim to. Angels should descend from heaven to smite you for even thinking of such a hallowed place, choirs should sing praises of the sweet grass and proud oak, preachers should give testimony to the consecrated soil that your knees rested on and dug into. This tree, upon this hill, overlooking this field should be a holy site, it deserved such an honor according to both your heart and your mind. Instead all it had was you, the very person who had turned the site into a wide open tomb, the very person who committed the very deicide that stained the hill in sin. Your breath came in stuttering hiccups as you rested your head against the hallowed oak, tears burning hot tracks down your skin. Your body shook, pain shooting up your shoulder as your weight shifted forward, hand dropping from the wood to the earth, clenching handfuls of corrupted earth despite the ache in your bones.

“I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry,” you sunk further into the ground as you spoke, your voice choked with tears and a certain tightness of your throat, “Its all my fault, I.. I know it is, mi vida, I know. I should’ve said no to you, maybe then we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Laughing softly, you carefully removed the chain and pendant from your neck, staring at the small crystal that usually hung around your throat. It burned as it rested in your palm. “I know you aren’t mad at me for that, you’ve told me this before… but I can’t help but wonder how we would’ve been if that day had gone differently, if we had just returned home when we had planned instead of playing with a power neither of us had a handle on… Maybe you and I would’ve been happy together still,” you shifted to rest your back against the tree, the warmth of the crystal practically burning a hole into your palm, “maybe you would’ve gone on to design buildings, like how you wanted to. I think I might’ve become a…” You furrowed your eyebrows at the train of thought, wracking your brain for any possible path for yourself other than the one you had taken. “It doesn’t matter what I would’ve become, I know you would’ve loved me no matter the road, I know you love me even now. You know, despite how calmly I’m speaking, my shoulder hurts a lot. Ara- Natasha really did a number on it.” You chuckled yet again, your head hanging over your knees to look at your beloved crystal. “You would’ve loved her, mi vida, she’s everything you wanted in a person that I wasn’t. She's strong, and intelligent, and so beautiful she would make the stars dimmer simply by standing in their light, more than that though, she’s kind. You should’ve seen it… that sorry look she got when she saw me in my cell, how much emotion was in her eyes when we danced together…” Clenching your fingers around the shard, you felt the warmth spread out through your hand, your fingers tingling from the sensation. “If you were here instead of me, I’m sure Natasha wouldn’t have said what she had. Then again, maybe I’m just being a fool.” The night air chilled you to the bone as you sat with your late lover, smoke swirling around you as you prepared to venture back to your temporary home.

Your heart still ached alongside your body, but you felt a sense of catharsis as you returned. The burn in your hand was better than any drug you had known, the tingling of your hand offered sweet release. You knew that your lover was with you at that hallowed ground, of course she was. The crystal had been burning bright in your palm as you spoke, and she always glowed when she was listening.

Wanda thought Natasha was insane when she had proposed her plan, but apparently she was the only one who was concerned as Steve thought it was an excellent idea, and Stark didn’t have any objections despite having been on the missions with the spy and the super soldier. “I’m sorry Nat, but you want to go to the home of the person who has murdered hundreds of innocent people and what? Play house?! Hope to get some information on them? What are you trying to get out of this?!" Steve shot a disapproving look at Wanda for her outburst, but she knew he understood; all his psyche was giving off was worry and hesitation. Bruce felt the same way, but when didn’t he, the only one who really seemed gung ho for this idea aside from Natasha was Tony. His thirst for knowledge always seemed to eclipse his care towards the safety of others, it made Wanda’s jaw clench in fury. The captain was the next to speak, his tone the usual mix of in charge and courteous that gently dominated any room he had to present to. “Wanda, I’m sure Natasha understands the risks and concerns surrounding the infiltration, but I believe she’s more than ready for something like this. Not only that, but Natasha seems to be the only one who can be in a room with the Nightcrawler and not come out harmed either physically or mentally. It's a calculated risk on her part.” Natasha nodded in agreement, her arms crossed over her chest in that stupid, stoic way that she did when she felt as if something was inevitable. “With all due respect Maximoff, there is nothing in this plan that is different than a standard undercover mission that S.H.I.E.L.D. gives to field agents.” Wanda could feel her lip twitching, her hands resisting the urge to twist the silver rings that adorned her fingers. “Field agents don’t try to go and live with a violent psychopath, and field agents sure as hell don’t try to live with the same person who tried to rip out Captain America’s stomach.” Natasha looked frozen in time with how still she stood, eyes narrowed into the bone chilling glare so many had resented being at the end of. It practically straightened Wanda’s spine, her heart dropping with her stomach to the tile floor beneath them. “It wasn’t his stomach.. The intrusion was closer to his-” Steve’s eyes met Bruce’s, shaking his head softly at the scientist, his voice soft as he breathed out a quiet ‘Not the time Banner.’ “I’m going on the mission, Maximoff. It’s already been cleared with the higher ups, I leave tomorrow.” Cold green eyes scanned the boardroom, daring anyone else to challenge the spy’s skill and authority, practically begging for Bruce or Tony to agree with the young witch.

The rest of the meeting was a muddled blur to Wanda, her brain much more focused on things other than statistics and damage reports; who cared about damages when you could just fix them with magic after all. Instead, the witch was focused on Natasha’s impending departure and absence. Instead, she was focused on how to keep Natasha safe during her leave, on how she could find the exact location of the spies soon to be whereabouts that she had oh so carefully left out of the team briefing, on what she should do when she ends up being right about you and the dangers that surrounded staying with you. Instead of focusing on Steve’s droning on about damage control she thought about your weaknesses. Instead of listening to Tony’s short presentation about potential equipment upgrades he would be making, she thought about how best to corner and subdue you. Instead of paying attention to the cold contempt within Natasha’s eyes whenever they met glances, Wanda thought about how relieved she would be when you were finally dead; especially when you were dead by her hand.

#dark!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #you dont love her #the reader has feelings #trauma #heartbreak #combat #emotional betrayal #bad plans #sites of death #backstory #the reader needs a hug #murderous wanda #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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falcqns · 2 years

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happy last birthday in this reality <3

#shut the fuck up ava #natasha romanoff #gonna shift tonight i need to give you a hug #so i know that you're okay

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natasha-rogersbarnes · 4 months

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@Marvel PLS PLS JUST STOP HURTING ME. PLS JUST STOP TAKING ALL MY HAPPINESS AWAY. YPU ARE MY FEAR AND MY THERAPY PLS STOP MAKING. ME. CRY. AGAIN. AND. AGAIN.

#marvel #tony stark #natasha romanoff #they need a hug #pls give them a hug

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yanaromanov · 27 days

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fuck me, i’m famous

｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

paring: rockstar!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: when your boyfriend drags you along to a rock concert of a band you barely know, and then ceremoniously dumps you to go out with his friends after, it feels like your night can’t get any worse. thankfully, the guitarist of the band seems to take a particular interest in you and offers you an alternative offer on how to spend your night that seems just too good to refuse.

warning(s): cheating (r has a bf), but he’s a shitty bf, oc male character, band jargon that may or may not be correct, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of flirting, slight mention of crystals, swearing, many pet names, first time with a woman, smut, fingering, thigh riding, masturbation, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hickeys, natasha talking you through things, lots of praise, slight degradation (?), minors dni.

authors note: okay i feel like this is kinda bad and messy but i also spent too much time on it not to post. i’m still getting used to writing smut and haven’t wrote anything like this before so i hope it’s okay 😭😭 the end is also rushed so plz just ignore that :))

wc: 12.2K words

You've seen enough books and movies to know how things are supposed to go. How that perfect moment comes, when the pieces fall into place and you suddenly realize this is what you're meant to do, what you've always meant to do. But you've also lived a life long enough to know it never actually happens. In truth, it's all a bunch of bullshit.

There's never such thing as love at first sight, no moment where the world freezes on everyone except you and music plays in slow motion in the background, your eyes falling on that one person through the crowd that you just know your heart only beats for. In real life, the cards just don't fall like that. There's too many shitty people and grievous circumstances for the true movie dream to ever be lived, forever just a piece of fiction one can only fantasize of.

You know all this, understand it to be true. And yet, one hot Summer night, it feels like it all melts away and that fairy tale veil falls down right in front of your very own eyes.

It's not slow when it happens, not like in the movies. It's fast and loud and hot and sweaty. The music around you blares into your ears, bodies beside you screaming out lyrics you barely know. In the crowded space, you at least try to have a good time, try to mimic your boyfriend's energy as he dances and sings beside you, but you know its all futile. You want to leave. Truly, never wanted to come in the first place, but had done for him, for all his pleas and begs. You'll love it, I promise. Please come, baby, please.

The lights are hurting your eyes, the fog burning at your irises. Everyone is far too close to you, strangers pressing up against your sides from the front row section your boyfriend, Tyler, had demanded you needed. You don't feel it right all the back there. You need to be close to feel it in your bones. You feel a little sick.

And then that's when it happens. Body jostling against the side of the raised stage, ears ringing from being far too close to the speakers, that's when your own movie moment finally crashes into you. It's quick, so quick you don't even take notice till a few seconds after it happens. As your eyes raise to the band playing in front of you, they graze over each of the members. The brunette hugging the microphone center stage; the other behind hammering into a black drum set; the tall blonde whose fingers dance over the fretboard of a blue bass; and then finally, the woman playing an electric guitar stage right the same color as her fiery red hair. When you meet her eye it's like one of those moments back in high school, when you're accidentally caught making eye contact with someone across the class. But this time, unlike any time with your classmates, the redhead doesn't screw her face up, passing you a dirty look. What the fuck are you looking at? Instead, she winks.

Seconds later her gaze is gone, returned to the vibrating audience, and it takes you just about as much time to even acknowledge what had just happened. It seems fake, like a miscommunication in the space of a blink. Surely you must be imagining things, the heat in the room finally getting to you. But no, you're so sure of it. So set on what you've seen. A few moments later, it's like it's confirmed. The redhead's sights turn back on you, looking down into the pit of bodies where you stand. This time she holds, her eyes trained to yours as she continues to pluck the strings of her guitar. A small smirk stretches across painted lips, teeth plunging down into plump flesh. The music doesn't slow like it does in the movies. In fact, it seems almost louder than ever as you hold contact with the redhead's playful gaze. And when she winks again, chin jutting in your direction, you know it's you she's looking at.

You feel a little too seen, and not so much in a good way. You don't feel that special moment you read about in books, the time you are the chosen one across the sea of other bodies, a spark lighting in your heart at the romanticism of it all. It actually only drives one question in to your head; why the fuck is she looking at me?

You duck your eyes away, looking to the floor and the scuffed boots on your feet. There's a half-full cup of water a few inches in front of you. You watch as dancing feet almost collide with it, surely only seconds a way from being spilled. It holds your attention for a long time, so long your boyfriend is grasping at your cheek to check you're alright. You smile the way you always seem to do. Lips painting a picture of 'yes, I'm fine', while your brain screams out in contradicting protest. How much longer till this thing is done? My fucking head hurts.

When the final song does eventually roll around, you're too lost in your own thoughts to even care. The redhead guitarist has made eye contact with you three more times since you'd first noticed. If there was any doubt you had she wasn't seeking you out, it was surely dissipated now. Each time your eyeline had actually raised to the stage in front of you, it was like the woman's eyes were already waiting for you.

Trying to hold back the dizziness from gazing down at the floor, you had tried to remember the redhead's name. In no offence to the band, or their adoring fans lined up behind you, you actually didn't know of them much at all. Sure, you've heard their songs blasted through your boyfriend's speakers, saw their faces on cassettes and cd's dumped around your apartment, but you've never truly been a follower of the band Crimson Coven. You try to rack your brain of the knowledge you have, of every rant your boyfriend has been on that you so casually zone out from. The lead singer's name is Wanda, you know that much. She seems to be his favourite from the amount of things you've heard him rattle on. She's never even taken singing lessons. She's actually European, isn't that sick? Did you know she has a twin brother? You should do your makeup like her, babe.

The redhead has you thrown for a loop though. There are two names swimming in your head, though you're pretty sure the drummer is the one named Maria and Carol doesn't seem to fit the guitarist stood on the right. For the life of you it seems you can't draw the name from your head. It stays that way until the concert is finishing, stood watching the four women walking off stage, screaming out "thank you's" and collecting thrown objects on to the small stage, all the while you notice a certain member's eyes still trained on you. You simply turn away and grab on to Tyler’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dissipating crowd. God, you can't wait to get home.

The line to the bathroom is a slight roadblock in your plan. It's not torturously long by any means, but it still has you stood outside pressing your thighs together as you try desperately to hold in the three cans of beer you'd drank before the gig had began. You're regretting that decision now as the line filters slowly into the venue's singular women's bathroom. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that? If it weren't for the half hour journey you had back to your place, you would have considered just holding it, but if the pain in your stomach were any indication, you weren't going to make it that far.

When it's finally your turn, you all but run into the cubicle. It's quieter in there, a barricade between the groups of people who’ve chosen to stay to socialize in the venue's lounge and bar area. The stall is not only a relief for your full bladder, but also your pounding head. You stay in there longer than what's needed, most likely angering the girls waiting outside, but you just can't help it. It's cool and quiet and a desperate contrast to the overstimulating room you'd just spent the last two hours in. After washing your hands, you take the time to check up on your makeup, licking the tip of your finger to fix the slightly smudged liner of your eyes. All in all, you're pretty intact considering the circumstances. A pleasing picture that will soon be washed away as you head home for a night of constant reiterations of the concert you'd just experienced.

You're almost rolling your eyes already at the thought, so easily predicting your boyfriend's behavior for the next several hours. It's this state of disapproval that blinds you as you open the door to the bathroom, not noticing the taller woman standing there before she's backing you up into the stall.

You stumble slightly as the presence walks towards you, your eyes adjusting to the other person who has suddenly joined you in the room. For a moment their back is turned, locking the door to the stall before their face is revealed to you. You curse a little under your breath when you recognise the features.

"There you are. God, do you know hard it was to track you down? Slipped right in here before I could get to ya."

The redhead in front of you breathes out her words, smiling down at you in a way that flips your stomach. It's in that moments everything truly comes crashing down. Every doubt you had, every belief that things like this don't happen in real life is swept away as the famous guitarist stands in front of you. It really was you she was looking at from the stage and now she'd tracked you down. Pinned you into a bathroom stall as she looks down on your figure with her eyes wide, almost drunk. "Uhm, hi?" Is all you manage to say, the entirety of the situation still comprehending itself in your mind.

The redhead in front of you smirks widely as she responds. "Hi." It's then that it hits you, the name you couldn't pinpoint earlier. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Lead guitarist of Crimson Coven. You're trying to remember anything Tyler might have said about her when she takes another step in your direction.

"Wow," she breathes, almost to herself. "You're even prettier up close." Her eyes seem to trace over your whole figure, her tongue playing with the inside of her cheek. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Uhm...thank you?" you stutter back, not entirely sure of how you're supposed to act in this situation. You're still trying to get over the shock of her pushing you back into the bathroom before you'd tried to leave. Not sure what else to do, your own eyes trail over the star stood ahead of you. She's still wearing her outfit from her performance; an old looking graphic tee tucked into a pair of black denim shorts. The boots on her feet have silver embellishments that match perfectly with the necklaces around her neck and many rings adorning her fingers. Her lips are painted a shade of faded red that both contrasts and yet somehow works perfectly with her hair, curled and messy around her shoulders. As you look over her, the thought of why your boyfriend may just like her band so much crosses your mind. She really was hot as shit.

But despite her looks, there's still an anxiety bubbling in your chest at this situation. It’s probably not often people could get this close to the star, let alone be held up in a room alone with her. Yet your ears are still ringing and the only true wish crossing your mind's eye is your bed. So, disappointing every girl who'd rather be in your place, you simply clear your throat as you gesture mindlessly to the door behind her. "I think there's people waiting outside to use this cubicle."

The rockstar cocks her head, smirking back. "Oh yeah?" She shrugs, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I'm sure they'd be fine waiting. Didn't mind letting me cut through the line." When she smiles back at you, you assume the look in her eye is a mirror of how a predator looks at its prey. You find your lip between your teeth as you look back, very aware of just how much time you'd already spent in this bathroom and how there was a lot of people stood outside who would be becoming increasingly more annoyed at the occupied status, rockstar be damned. Though her attitude remains relaxed, the redhead in front of you seems to pick up on your hesitation because she lets out a low sigh. "Look, if you're really that bothered why don't don't we leave and your pretty ass can join me backstage?"

She takes another step towards you, eyes darkening a they take in your figure. You swallow the saliva in your mouth in an attempt to cool the burn in your stomach. "Sorry-I um-I have a boyfriend," you manage to stutter out, taken aback by her advances. She definitely was hitting on you, that much was clear now, but you knew that Tyler would be waiting for you somewhere, most likely wondering why the fuck you were taking so long to pee.

When your words ring out, its like the redhead's brain short circuits. She almost freezes, only her brows moving to pull into a deep frown. "Shit," she murmurs. "Really?"

You nod in response, fingers playing with the back of your shirt. "Yeah." The redhead looks awfully confused, her gaze trailing over you as if there's something she's missed. When her eyes meet yours once more, its like your answer is a complete mystery to her, like there's something she saw you must have missed in your own reflection. You try to brush it off, not delving into whatever thoughts must be running through the star's head. Instead you just clear your throat again, pointing to the door. "He's um- probably waiting for me."

A tight smile passes across your lips as you slowly move towards the door. The redhead lets you go, ever so slightly brushing past her arm without another word said. You reach for the handle of the door, turning it open before leaving the rockstar behind to wallow in whatever confusion or disappointment runs through her head. You just want to find Tyler and get the hell out of there.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom stall, it feels even warmer than it had before. Though now you're not entirely sure if it's just the air, or also the blood you can feel coursing through your cheeks. You try your best to brush it off, looking around the space to try and locate wherever your boyfriend might have wondered off to. Walking past the line of remaining girls, you have to try ignore their passing stares. Most are likely from your extended use of the bathroom, holding them up even further, but you can't help but feel at least a few are thinking about whatever happened between you and Natasha in that stall and why on earth you had the nerve to leave such an opportunity unfulfilled.

Trying to leave the entire interaction behind, you move to the main area of the venue lounge to try find your boyfriend so you can finally head home. It takes you a good few minutes of searching through the crowds before you spy him across the way, stood talking with all of his friends that he'd brought along to the concert.

"Tyler," you call, passing through bodies to get to him. When he doesn't seem to hear you, you shout again. "Tyler!"

Finally, he turns around, a look of recognition passing over his face as you appear by his side. "Oh there you are, babe," he says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just-I was peeing," you reply, looking around sheepishly at the group of men all staring down at you. It wasn't that you didn't like Tyler's friends per se, it was more so they just weren't your type of people. Most times they’re around, you manage to skilfully skirt around them until a time when they've all gone back home.

Tyler scoffs a little at your comment. "You were gone for like half an hour." He laughs, gesturing to the group as they all join in.

"Yeah. Um-the line was long," you say, trying to avoid the annoyance creeping up your spine as well as skirt around the encounter you'd had just moments ago. Partially because you were still trying to wrap your head around it but also because you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say about what happened. Instead, you just let out a small sigh. "Can we just go home now?"

"Oh actually," Tyler starts. "We were thinking of hitting up a few bars before we went home."

The words hit you like a blast of hot air, unable to deny the feeling of annoyance brewing under your skin. Still, you try to remain sweet in hopes he'll seek pity on you. "Tyler, please," you reply. "I'm tired, can't we just-"

"You don't have to come."

He cuts you off quickly, halting the words in your throat. The attitude you can hear in his voice almost immediately breaks the facade of kindness you were putting on. "Excuse me?"

Tyler shrugs, having the nerve to look annoyed, like you're the one being unreasonable here. "Just call a cab home. You'll be fine." And with that it seems he's had enough of the conversation, turning his shoulders away as he beckons his group to follow.

"No, Tyler wait," you try, but he continues to move away. The only thing you receive is him quickly turning over his shoulder, calling out a goodbye as he promises to see you later.

"Tyler!" You yell but it's futile, the image of your boyfriend already swallowed up by the crowd. "Fuck."

For the second time tonight it feels like you have no idea how to react. You swivel around on the spot, like a lost kid in a grocery store. Some part of you can't believe he would just leave you like that, but then the other part understands it's him all over. Stupid selfish prick.

Far past being annoyed at the night's events, you reach for the phone buried in your jacket pocket, determined to just do as you were told and order a cab home. When the screen returns to you black, the only image your own reflection staring back at you even as you press the power button repeatedly, a long string of curses escape your lips. Stupid fucking phones and their stupid ass batteries. And of course tonight had to be the night you had forgone your charger, leaving you with just a useless weight of metal that you slip back into your pocket. Just my fucking luck.

For a moment, you're stuck on what to do, how to find a way home, but then your eyes fall on the bar across the room. You make your way through the crowd, squeezing past people and mumbling half-assed 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' until you eventually reach the bar. When you do, the bartender walks over to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you could call me a cab?" you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the venue's loud music.

The bartender furrows his brow. "What?"

"A cab," you repeat, leaning in further to his ear. "Can you call me a cab, please? My phone is dead."

"Oh, I can't sorry," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "Phone is broken."

"What? Can't you use your mobile or-"

"Not while I'm on shift."

He shrugs again. You scoff.

"Please. I really need to get home."

"Sorry," the bartender responds finally, turning away to move towards another customer down the bar.

You watch him go, scowling. When he starts to talk to someone else, asking for their order, another waterfall of curses fall from your tongue. How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?

"Hey gorgeous."

The voice all but pulls you from your thoughts and to the right, dragging you away from the harsh stare you were given the unhelpful bartender. When your eyes fall to the person who had sidled up beside you, a small sigh slips out, your eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Wow," the redhead responds, easily picking up on your bad attitude. She holds her hands up. "Sorry to offend."

You look back at the rockstar, at Natasha. It seems she's found you again in a moment where you want nothing more than to find a way out of there. Though despite your frustration, you know it's not her fault, that she isn't the one controlling the universe so adamant on your downfall tonight. So, you force yourself to soften your expression as you turn back to her. "No. No, I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It's just- I'm trying to get a cab home but apparently their phone is broken." You gesture towards the bar, displaying the utter uselessness of its bartender with the look on your face.

Natasha seems to take a little amusement in your frustration, the faintest of a smile appearing on her face. "You ain't got your own phone to call a cab?" The mobile is received from your pocket, quickly held up by your hand as you flash the dead device to the redhead opposite. She sighs, tilting her head back. "Ah, I see. What about that boyfriend of yours? Couldn't he call you a cab?"

You're a little surprised to hear her mention that piece of information, even if you'd only shared it with her minutes before in the bathroom stall. The mention of his presence is enough to drag the long sigh from your chest as you stare down at the bar. "Not when he's the reason I need one."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one."

Her words draw your eyes back to her, briefly grazing over her face before you respond. "He left with his friends. Gone off to some other bar. Told me to phone a cab home."

Natasha lets out a breath of air. "Dickhead." You watch her as she takes a sip from the beer in her hand, trying not to notice the way her lips look pressed against the top of the bottle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to wait around on assholes like that."

And then there's that same heat you felt in the bathroom, creeping up your cheeks unwelcome. You turn away again as you shrug in an attempt to hide it. "He's not that bad-" "Sure," Natasha cuts you off before you can even finish your explanation. In truth, you weren't even sure what else you were going to say, what redeeming qualities you could draw about the boy who'd left you stranded in the city to go get drunk with his friends. Instead you just turn to the woman sat beside you, only shallowly realising how she is in fact a minor celebrity and that a lot of the people around were probably looking over at the pair of you. But when Natasha smiles and leans in, it's like it all disappears. "Alright, lemme tell you this. You let me buy you one drink and I'll phone you a taxi home."

You look back at the rockstar sat across from you, letting her words settle into your mind. This close you can once again tell just how beautiful she is, how any girl in this room would pay good money to be where you are right now. But you don't want to be that kind of girl, the kind that chases after someone just because they have a little bit of fame. Nevertheless, there is something about the redhead that draws you in. Maybe it's the layers of piercings you can see stacking her ears, or the patchwork of tatoos lining her exposed arms. Whatever it is, something about her is making you want to follow whatever she says. Furthermore, her offer is one that is rather too good to refuse. After a moment, you sigh as you nod your head. "Fine. One drink." Natasha Romanoff smirks, calling the bartender over almost immediately with two fingers. It's the same tilted smile you had seen her passing you from across the stage, though now you can take notice of the small dimple that appears on her cheek when those lips pull taught. Everything about this encounter was setting something alight inside you but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

When your drink finally arrives - curtesy of a different bartender - you decidedly join the rockstar on the stools lined up against the bar. The leather is sticky and uncomfortable against the exposed skin under your skirt. Still, you ignore it as you look over at the redhead to your right, slowly taking a sip of the cocktail you'd ordered as you get the opportunity to voice the question that's been on your mind for the last couple hours. "Why were you looking at me on stage?"

"Why'd you think?" Natasha smirks the widest you've seen all night, licking her bottom lip as she turns to you. "I thought maybe you and I could have some fun but…you had to be little miss taken." You try not to react to her words, or moreover the way her eyes drag themselves over your body, particularly your exposed thighs against the red leather of the barstool. "Maybe we could still have some fun yet tho, hm?" Natasha finishes, her eyes returning to yours. Even in the dim light of the bar you can tell they're blown out, pupils wide as they drink you in.

You let out a sigh. "Listen, in the nicest way possible, I don't actually really know who you are and I don't know about this whole thing you're doing, if it's normal but-"

"Wait," Natasha cuts you off. "You were in the front row and don't know who I am?"

You feel a little bashful as you shrug your shoulders. "I mean- I kinda do, I guess. I mean- I've listened to a few of your band's songs but I'm not like- a fan or anything."

"Not a fan?" Natasha breathes, reaching to take another sip of her drink with an amused expression. "So tell me, how does a girl who's not a fan end up hugging the stage all night?"

You take a sip of your own cocktail before you reply. "My boyfriend bought the tickets."

"Ah there it is," Natasha nods. "The boyfriend yet again." She turns in her chair, legs moving to dangle off the side. "You know, he's not really our target demographic."

You know exactly what she's talking about, almost too quickly. It was rather obvious to you that Crimson Coven was not a band trying to attract straight men, even if they did flock to them over their members' good looks. "Yeah, I tried to tell him that," you reply, sipping on your drink.

One of the redhead's brows raises, eyes tracing over your face. "What's that one saying?" she ask, swirling the bottle in her hands. "Takes one to know one?" You feel the saliva pool in your throat as she looks back at you, smirk wider than ever. Swallowing harshly, you take a rather big swig of your drink, trying your best to ignore the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Natasha simply breathes out a laugh. "I think you're maybe not as you first seem, little lady." Right then there's a look that passes between you, your eyes wide and questioning, Natasha's dark and hooded. Then her hand is landing on your thigh, just above your knee where the skin is exposed. Her thumb strokes back and forth delicately as she licks her lips. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

There's a strange bubbling inside your stomach, a flutter to your heart. You want to turn and walk right out of there, ditch the rockstar in front of you and try your luck hailing a cab on the street. But part of you notices the shiver her touch sends up your thigh, how her skin is warm against yours in just the right kind of way, how despite your circumstances, just how amazing this moment feels. "Y/N," you reply eventually, swallowing your first instincts to the warm pit of your stomach.

"Y/N," the redhead repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. "I'm-"

"Natasha. I know."

She seems taken aback by your quick answer, cutting off her sentence before she can finish. She frowns slightly back at you. "I thought you said you didn't."

Now it's your turn to raise your brow. "I said I wasn't a fan. Not that I didn't know your name."

"I see," Natasha replies, her voice laced with amusement. She smiles to herself as she sips her beer, turning back with a wide grin. "You know, I've never slept with a Y/N before."

"You sleep with a lot of girls then?"

"I've done the rounds," Natasha shrugs. The nonchalant nature of her reply is enough to have you passing her a displeased look across the bar. She raises her brow, looking back at you. "What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you I'm the virgin mary?"

You want to laugh in response but hold yourself back, entirely aware of the game Natasha is trying to play. "So...what?" you draw out, playing with the rim of your glass. "You want me to be one of your new collectibles?"

"Well maybe if I get lucky."

You turn back to the smirking redhead. "I wouldn't buy a lottery ticket."

And she laughs, like really laughs right into her drink before she takes a sip. When she places it back on the bar, she shakes her head as she turns to look at you with a smirk. "You know most girls flock to my side," she says, raising a brow. "Asking for autographs or pictures."

"I already told you. I don't know that much about your band."

"You're here though, aren't you?" Natasha replies. "You must know some things."

She isn't entirely wrong. Sure, you knew of the things your boyfriend has endlessly droned on about. About Wanda being the one who named the band. Or about Carol and her cat, or Maria and her brief military background. You even knew about Natasha, little sparks in your memory of her coming from Russia or her hair being blonde at some point. It's all stored in the backlog of your brain, hours of knowledge you'd spent years sorting into the dusty compartments of your mind you never cared to look at. Still, there's something now about speaking to Natasha in real time, not hearing about your boyfriend's idealised version of her that feels a little different. Things here feel a little more real.

You don't acknowledge Natasha's question as you take a sip from your drink. "You want me to ask for your autograph?" you ask as you place the glass back down. "Is that it?"

The answer that follows is in such a low register you can barely hear it over the music. "I think we both know what I want."

You look back at Natasha, at her dazzling smirk and messy red hair. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your girl." A tight smile appears on your lips as you gaze out into the sea of bodies across the room. "Why don't you go find someone else?"

"Why would I when you're the prettiest thing in here?" Natasha's response is quick, almost as quick as the way her eyes divert to to rest if your body. "Hell, I'd go as far as to say you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Listen," you sigh. "I appreciate the flattery but-"

"I ain't fucking around if that's what you think," Natasha says quickly, cutting you off. The look in her eye as she scans your face shows how genuine her words feel. "You caught my eye the second I stepped on stage. You're fucking gorgeous, angel. Forgive me if it's a crime to want to see more."

Despite your better instincts, you let out a laugh into your glass. No one has ever been this forward with you before, never complimented you so much to the point you can feel the heat of their words on your skin. Hell, not even Tyler was ever this keen to get you into bed. And you know you shouldn't like it, shouldn't fall for the rockstar's methods, but you can't help but enjoy the praise just a little bit.

That feeling is soon quashed however when your temple gives a sudden jolt of pain. You wince slightly, reminded of the too-loud atmosphere you'd spent the last few hours in. The alcohol probably wasn't helping much either.

"What's wrong?"

You're a little surprised when Natasha speaks, unaware of her having noticed your small flinch at the pain. You simply shake your head in response, smiling back at her. "Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You know," the rockstar replies quickly. "It's cooler backstage. Quieter too." You must give her a look laced with poison because she holds her hands up in defence once again, though this time smirking back at you. "Hey, Im just saying."

Despite your glare, you're still interested in the redhead sat opposite you. It's like even with her forward approach, you can't help but be drawn to some part of her. You try to avoid the smile that creeps back on to your face as you look back into her eyes. "Does this routine usually work for you?"

Natasha chuckles to herself before leaning in to speak. "Honey, by now I usually have a girl screaming my name as she rides my face."

It's now you're entirely glad of the dimness in the room, hiding the flushed state that rises in your throat and heats up your cheeks. You can feel yourself getting worked up by Natasha's bold statement, unsure of what to do with yourself or how to respond. In doubt of yourself, you simply reach for the cocktail glass in front of you and down the rest of the liquid. It burns a little going down but you find you don't mind it. Anything to take away from the feeling you can recognise brewing in your stomach.

You can just about feel Natasha's smirk as much as you can see it, pressing into the side of your head as she watches you become flustered, clearly enjoying the effect she is having on you. "Here," she says, adjusting herself in the chair. "Let me buy you another one."

You turn to meet her eye, holding it harshly. "I said one drink."

That smirk remains for a long while as Natasha just looks back at you, not answering for a few passing moments. It even stays as she lifts one of her arms, arching it so it comes to rest on the back of your barstool, officially caging in your conversation. "Alright," she drawls, her body leaning in towards yours. "Look at it like this. I can buy you another drink and we can talk some more. Maybe think about heading backstage, get you somewhere quieter. Or..." The redhead licks her licks, pausing as she angles her head. "I can phone you that cab now and you can mope in the backseat till you get home. Then, stumble into your cold apartment alone and just wait for your drunk boyfriend to get home and sidle up next to you in bed."

The blatant look on Natasha's face is a good representation of how you feel about the whole situation she's proposed. The thought of dealing with Tyler later is enough to have you rolling your eyes, already imagining his drunken state reaching out for you and wiping wet kisses along your neck, stinking of booze and the remaining perfume of whatever girl he's been chatting up at the bar. It's almost like a routine you've both fallen into, simply ignoring it every time until without fail, it'll happen again.

And maybe tonight you're done with it. Maybe tonight is the night you don't want to have to deal with him anymore, to hear him talk about himself for hours on end like you don't even exist. It's partially the thought of finally letting that go that pulls you in the direction you choose, but it's also largely down to the way you can feel Natasha pressing in closer, her face moving just inches from yours as her lips press up against your ear. Somehow, it's like you can even feel her smirking as her lips barely graze the skin beside your face. "If you come with me, I promise you won't regret it."

Maybe it is that that finally does it for you, the shiver of goosebumps running down your spine as you still feel the redhead's hand grazing your thigh. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the heat finally getting to you, or the alcohol hitting your head. It could be any of those, or maybe combination of them all. Whatever your brain decides to settle on as a reason, it doesn't really matter because within seconds, you're calling over the bartender for another drink, allowing yourself to fall into whatever rabbit hole Natasha Romanoff is offering you.

"I knew I'd like you, Y/N," the redhead whispers close, grinning widely at your acceptance. You don't say anything in response until the bartender is placing your vodka coke on the bar. And even then, just as you reach for the glass, Natasha is diverging any words you may have spoken as she grabs hold of your hand. "Come on," she calls and it's a challenge not to spill any of the drink as the redhead quickly begins to pull you from the bar.

"Natasha, wait-" you try to respond, not entirely sure of where this might be going, but the star is quickly cutting you off as she presses her lips together.

"Shh," she drags, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's okay, angel. It's better back here, I promise."

Something in you gives in because you let her drag you through the crowds of the room, trying desperately not to spill the beverage in your hands. You notice on the way a few recognising faces that glance at Natasha, then almost turn a little sour as they fall onto you. You only get the chance to wonder about their jealousy for a few moments before Natasha has pulled you away from everyone entirely, slipping you through a door into a quiet corridor. And then, after turning a few corners and dodging a few stacks of equipment crates, she pulls you through another door into an entirely empty room.

It's only then does the redhead finally release your hand, letting you roam free as she crosses to sit on one of the sofas positioned within the room. Beside them, there's stacks of band equipment, most of which you don't quite recognise. The red guitar on the stand is easy, and the set of drumsticks lying on a table, but the speakers and wires sit in a valley of other items you probably couldn't name if you tried.

There are scatterings of personality throughout the space; a leather jacket thrown over a couch, an ashtray of old cigarettes on a coffee table, some cards laying close beside it. And for a moment you wonder if this is what Natasha Romanoff's life is like. Backrooms full of band equipment, roaring crowds that call out her name. An endless supply of money and booze and cigarettes and girls. It's so so far away from the reality that you live that it can't help but be a little fascinating, this room just a little window into the life of a true rockstar.

The one thing you do very quickly notice however, is the main luxury that the exclusive backstage room seems to have; air conditioning. Beautifully cool air floods your body as soon as the door closes behind you, your headache already cowering back in the quiet atmosphere. You just can't help but let out a long, appreciative sigh at the respite from the hot, humid air outside.

"Told ya." Natasha's voice calls as you see her throw herself down on one of the sofas, so easily slipping into her own space backstage.

You simply roll your eyes as you take a sip of the drink in your hand, surprisingly intact after lugging it across the venue. "So, where are your other friends?" you ask, looking more so at the room full of band things than the member sat on the couch across from you.

Natasha sighs, sitting back as her eyes drag over you. "Probably in rooms close by hoping to get somewhere like me."

"And where exactly is that?" you ask, feet wandering across the opposite side of the room from the redhead. She smirks back at you, watching your every movement.

"Why don't you tell me, gorgeous?"

You can feel yourself smile, finally allowing Natasha's flirting get to you. But instead of replying to her question, you simply run your fingers over the red instrument propped up on the stand beside you. "How long have you played guitar?"

"Fifteen years," Natasha replies quickly, unwavering at your change of topic.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the instrument. "Wow." There isn't anything you've probably committed to for that long, besides maybe school. You take a sip of your drink as you turn to lean on a table against the wall, now facing the still sitting redhead across the way. "How'd you meet the other girls?"

"It's a long story."

You hum in response, waiting just a moment for her to elaborate before you realise she's leaving it up to your own imagination. The two of you hold eye contact as you bring your drink up to your mouth, letting the bubbles pop on your lips as you drink before smoothing it over with your tongue. Theres a specific look in Natasha's eye you can't seem to recognise, almost as if she wants to eat you right where you stand. That smirk widens as you take another sip, your tongue yet again swiping over your lips and the sweet residual soda lingering there. It's then Natasha finally speaks, nodding her head in your direction. "Come here."

And you do. Placing your drink down on the table before pressing yourself up from it, you slowly make your way across the room to where Natasha sits. As you come to stand between her open legs, the rockstar sits up, her body straightening and her hands coming to rest on the sides of your hips. You let them explore a little as Natasha moves, forgoing the layer of your leather jacket and pressing directly beneath the hem on your shirt. Her fingertips feel calloused as they brush the skin beneath it, years of playing guitar coming to create the most amazing sensation as she brushes against your body.

"God, your skin is so soft," Natasha says lowly, almost to herself. It sounds like she's truly mesmerised, her entire being taken over by the feeling of you against her skin. And perhaps some part of you feels it too because without knowing what truly compels you, you find yourself lowering your body down into her lap. Natasha smirks as you come to rest upon her thighs, knees caging either side of her body. She glances down at the way your skirt rides up, only leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath. Her hands come to rest there, stroking the soft skin of your upper thighs as you lift your arms above her shoulders, letting them fall behind her head as you stare into her eyes. From here, in the new lighting of the backstage room, you can see the sea of green that shrouds her pupils.

For a while you two just drink each other in, your bodies comfortably close as your eyes trace one another. Then, eventually Natasha is talking once more as her fingers reach out towards you. "What's this?"

You follow her eyeline down to your chest, watching the way her fingers have found the crystal hanging around your neck. "Aventurine," your reply.

Natasha smiles as she looks back at your face. "Wanda's the crystal lover so you'll have to enlighten me. What does this one do?"

You shrug a little. "It's brings a few things...Hope, optimism, prosperity. Mostly luck."

The redhead raises a brow as her voice finds that playful tone. "Luck?"

"Mhm," you hum, finding yourself leaning in just slightly closer. "Stone of opportunity."

"So you're telling me it's because of this little rock that I wound up with a pretty girl sat on my lap?"

You hold back a laugh as you search Natasha's smirking face. "Don't call it a rock."

"No?"

You shake your head, humming. "I think it offends them."

The two of you are pressed even closer now, your arms coming crossed behind Natasha's head as she pulls you in. Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks. "I know some things I could do to offend a lot of people."

The breath you release is shaky as you feel Natasha's hand reach up to cusp your face. She holds your chin, finger so delicate across your skin before she reaches to trace your bottom lip, just momentarily pulling it down with her thumb.

And it's then, with her face pressed so close to yours, green eyes almost black with lust, that you finally let everything go and you lean in. The first kiss is electrifying. Like that first strum of a chord when the guitar kicks in in a song, the bass just rattling your bones and setting your nerves on fire.

Natasha's lips are beautifully soft against yours, a contrast to the harshness of her fingertips you can feel pressing into the side of your face. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and cigarette smoke, sweet but hazy to your senses. The redhead quickly takes a grip of your jaw, angling your head just right so she can drive the kiss deeper. You don't complain as she begins to domineer your mouth, tongue sliding across yours with the skills of a professional.

When you both finally pull back for air, you can only wonder why you forced yourself to wait for this so long. Her touch is like nothing you've ever felt before, your entire body simply set alight with a hunger for her. You look down at the redhead for a moment and Natasha smirks devilishly up at you, eyes blown wide before she's pulling you back in. Your hands hold the back of her neck as your lips collide once more, pulling her in as close to you as you can in a desperate need for more.

Natasha's fingers dance up your arms before you can feel her begin to press the leather jacket away from your shoulders. You move your hands to let her remove it, only hearing it crash to the floor as you try desperately to hold your lips against the rockstar's. A low whine erupts in your throat as you feel her pull away seconds later, your bruised mouth chasing hers.

But Natasha just lets herself grin as her hands caress your body, deft fingers running up and down your sides. Only moments later, she's reaching beneath the material of your shirt to pull it over your head. Her breaths are heavy as her eyes trace your exposed body, almost fixated on the swell of your breasts in the lacy balconette bra cladding your chest.

"Fuck," the redhead says under her breath. Her hands come up to caress your tits, squeezing them tenderly through the material as your own pants flow from your chest. Her lips connect soon after, kissing and nipping at the skin of your cleavage with delicate precision. You let your head fall back as the redhead pays attention to your chest, simultaneously sucking and playing with your tits with her mouth and hands, sending rolls of pleasure flooding down your spine.

When one of her hands slips up the bare skin of your back, her lips disconnect as she meets your eye. Her fingers play with the clasp of your bra as you look down at her. "Can I?" she whispers, face so close to your own.

"Uh huh," you reply, nodding your head quickly. It's only seconds later you can feel the release against your chest, Natasha's skilled hands making quick work of the clasp and tossing your brassiere to the side. Her attention is straight back on you as she reveals your bare chest, kissing the previously hidden skin as she murmurs soft praises into the flesh. "God, you're so beautiful."

Your fingers find a place running through her hair as she continues to play with your tits, red fibres intertwined with your painted nails. A string of softer sounds elicits from your throat as Natasha's fingers find your nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds with just the perfect amount of pressure.

"Natasha," you breath out heavily, holding back a moan as her teeth replace her hands playing with your chest.

"Yeah baby?" the redhead responds, looking up at you but not removing her face from where it rests.

The look on her face only adds to the pool you can feel forming between your legs, all down to her touch and copious amounts of flirting. You want to see more of her, want to run your hands across her body. Not entirely confident enough to word it, you settle for a whine as you tug at her shirt. Thankfully, it seems Natasha is apt at picking up your signals because she smirks widely before reaching to untuck her shirt and pull it over her head.

As the rockstar tosses it somewhere across the room, you can't help but stare at the sight she's unveiled. Her tits sit beautifully in a red bralette, perked perfectly with pink nipples visible through the mesh material. Every part of you feels totally enamoured by her look, eyes unable to peel themselves away from her heavenly cleavage on display.

It's in your admiration, you find yourself distracted, not noticing the way the rockstar's hand has slipped up your skirt until you suddenly feel her touch against your underwear. A gasp escapes you as her fingers graze over your clothed core, most definitely feeling the way her tactics have saturated the material. The redhead makes eye contact with you, pupils dark. "This okay?" she whispers, voice as thick as honey.

It takes all your efforts to breathe out a response, entirely worked up by her touch. "Yeah," you reply, nodding quickly. By this point you would let her do whatever she wanted if it would soothe ache between your legs.

Natasha smiles widely as she hears your response. "Lift your hips for me," she says, playing a chaste kiss to your collar bone. You do ask she asks, rising up to your knees on the sides of the couch. It gives Natasha the room to hook her fingers underneath the sides of your underwear, pulling them down painfully slowly as she looks into your eyes. When she finally manages to slide them over your legs, she tosses them somewhere off to the side before pulling you back down to sit on her lap.

Just then, a sudden thought crosses your mind. "I've-I've never done this before," you stutter out. "With a woman, I mean."

You wonder for a moment if Natasha will be put off by your inexperience, but that thought is quickly extinguished when the redhead only smirks wider. "That's alright," she replies. "Cause I happen to be somewhat of an expert."

You let out the barest of a laugh at her words, letting the anxiety flood out of your mind. Natasha's smirk holds as you feel her hand creep up your skirt again, dancing over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Relax, sweetheart," she husks. "I got you now."

Her fingers move to again run over your centre, this time touching your bare skin as you feel her fingers trace your soaked folds. She collects the wetness pooling from your centre before dragging it up to your clit, spreading it as she slowly begins to circle the bud. A moan slips as she presses a little harder, her fingers perfectly pooling pleasure between your legs.

"That's it, baby," Natasha purrs, face close to your ear. "Let me hear all those pretty noises."

You feel your teeth plunge into your bottom lip as another moan slips from your throat. Natasha's touch is so teasingly slow you can't help but buck your hips a little into her hand. "Please-" you whine, desperate for her to do more.

Thankfully, Natasha obliges and another moan drawls from your chest as you feel her middle finger plunge into your core. Your muscles tense around her, pulling her finger in further as your face comes to burrow into the redhead's shoulder.

"Uh uh," Natasha sounds from above you. "Let me see your face, pretty girl." Her finger find your chin, directing your gaze back up until your eyes meet with hers."There you go."

She smiles widely as she leans in for a kiss, once again enveloping your lips in her sweet, sultry taste. The two of you press deeply into another, noses brushing together. You can feel Natasha's finger slowly begin to move inside you, teasing your walls as you whine against her mouth. Your lips only disconnect when you feel Natasha add another finger to the one pumping inside you, your face falling as a gasp sounds from your chest.

She works almost painfully slow, her fingers pulling virtually all the way out before steadily bottoming inside you once again. Each time, her fingertips press against that spot inside you, just softly enough for you to barely feel it. Chasing more of a high, your hips begin to rut against her hand. "Natasha," you whine, voice long and drawn out at her teasing attitude. Some part of you wonders if it's some form of payback for letting it take so long to get you in this position.

The rockstar places a soft kiss to the side of your neck before she's whispering in your ear, hot breath fanning out across the skin. "Shh, just ride my fingers," she says, smiling against you. You feel her free hand come to rest upon your hip, slowly guiding you to rut harder against her hand. Each time you do, you feel her fingers curl into that spot inside you, sending soft sighs of pleasure cascading from your lips.

"'Atta girl," Natasha husks, continuing to guide your movements with her palm. Your hands come to rest upon her shoulders, holding yourself up as you rock back and forth. The redhead's fingers slide in and out of you with each motion, the sounds of the wetness between your legs joined by the moans slipping from your tongue.

Natasha watches with wide eyes as you grind against her hand, fingers gripping into her shoulders as your pleasure grows. She lets her digits curl inside you, releasing sweet, sudden sounds from your lips. Her thumb moves to brush against your clit, the hardened surface sending shocks of pleasure through you each time you rock your hips.

"Fuck baby," Natasha says lowly, watching you practically fuck yourself on her lap. "Are you gonna make a mess?" she drawls. "You gonna make a mess all over my fingers for me?"

"Uh huh," you respond, barely managing to nod your head as you can feel that coil building tighter and tighter in your stomach. Natasha's touch is like electric to your skin, each thrust building to a crescendo at your core.

"Come on, angel," the redhead whispers. "Show me just how pretty you are when you cum."

Her words, alongside one last thrust of your hips is enough to send you toppling over that edge. Your moan is drawn out loudly as you feel yourself come undone, eyes slamming shut as you grip hold of Natasha's shoulders. Your body arches in to her, letting Nat take advantage of your chest with her mouth once more as her fingers ride you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," you breathe, finally starting to come down from your high. You open your eyes once more to see Nat smirking up at you, letting go of your nipple between her teeth as both of her hands now rest on your waist. As your mind clears, you let yourself begin to fall back down on to her lap, but when you accidentally land directly on her thigh, you feel a shock sent through your core. You wince, immediately lifting yourself back up at the sensitivity.

But Natasha seems to have other plans. "Shh, angel. It's okay," she murmurs as her hands grip harsher on to the skin of your waist. She begins to push you back down, eliciting a gasp as your sensitive core connects again with her leg. You squirm a little in the position, fighting ever so slightly against Natasha as she tries to drop your full weight on to her. "Just sit on my thigh," she drawls, hands guiding you down. "Just like that, there you go."

The position hikes your tight skirt all the up to your waist, completely exposing your cunt as it comes to rest against the bare skin of Natasha's thigh. You're pathetically wet against her, cum still dripping out your core from your previous orgasm. But if anything, Natasha only seems to enjoy the way you soak her skin, smirking up at you as her hands begin to direct you once again. Her movements force you to rock back and forth slowly, your slick coating the skin of her leg beneath you. The wave of pleasure that comes from the movement sends a moan tipping out your mouth, your head falling back as your clit throbs with each brush against Natasha's thigh.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the redhead beneath you husks, still guiding your movements. It takes all your focus to nod your head. "Mhm?" Natasha questions, her voice purely laced with amusement. "You're such a good girl. Just keep grinding on me, just like that."

You feel the rockstar's hands disengage from your waist but your movement continues, encouraged by her words and praise. You watch between fluttering eyelashes as Natasha reaches to take off her bra, tossing it aside and revealing her perfect tits to you. Then, you see as her hands moves to undo her shorts, opening each button before her fingers disappear beneath the waistband of the black denim.

You hold back a whine as you see her face contort, only imagining what her fingers may be doing under the material of those shorts. "God, you're making me so wet," the redhead breathes, reaching up to place a kiss on to your pouting lips. You release a whine into her, muffled by her tongue lapping over your own. "Such a pretty girl," Natasha mewls when she pulls away, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw. "So pretty just for me. Wanna see how wet I am for you?"

You feel yourself nodding as you look into her green eyes, turned even more on by the concept of Natasha getting off just by looking at you. The redhead removes her fingers from beneath her shorts before bringing them up to your face, letting you view the soaked digits momentarily before pressing them up to your lips. You take in her fingers welcomely, humming around them as you let the taste of her coat your tongue.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Natasha husks, sounding about as love-drunk as you felt sucking on her fingers. She lets you lap them up a moment longer before pulling them from your lips with a pop. Then, you watch as she dips them back below her shorts, moaning softly at the contact it makes on her hidden centre.

Your eyes feel almost transfixed on the hand concealed beneath the material of Natasha's black shorts. The only true indication of whatever her fingers are doing comes from the delicate hums and sighs that escape the redhead's lips. The sight alone is enough to make you grind your cunt harder against her thigh, desperately trying to ease the heat growing there.

The rockstar notices your attempts becoming more determined, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your own needy mewls drip from your tongue. "Are you gonna cum on my thigh baby?" she asks, smirking widely.

You grind faster against her, trying desperately to chase your high but it feels like it's never coming. "I can't," you whine, hopelessly rutting atop of her.

"You can," Natasha nods.

"Mm-hm," you hum, shaking your head. Your fingers grip harder into her skin, the feeling between your legs never quite reaching that peak you're seeking out.

"You can, baby," Natasha replies quickly, voice assertive. "Look, just like this." You feel her hands come to rest upon your ass, fingers gripping into the soft flesh before she begins to rock you once more. With her guidance, you follow a more structured pattern, your clit brushing perfectly against her thigh with each rock of your hips. "There you go," the redhead hums, watching your face screw up in pleasure at the newfound rhythm. Moans begin to cascade from your lips in desperate tones as each new thrust sends you closer to that edge. The way Natasha guides you sends perfect waves of pleasure through your entire body, your hands pressing into her shoulders to try ground yourself in the high. When you feel her fingers join in on the equation, your cries turn ever more lewd, her hand placed so that your clit brushes directly over her calloused tips each time you rut your hips.

"Come on baby girl," you hear Natasha husk, her face close to yours. "Cum for me. You can do it. Cum all over my thigh."

One more thrust sends you hurtling over the edge, screaming out as you feel a gush of warmth flooding onto Natasha's leg. Your arms wrap around her head, anchoring yourself in as you ride out your high, mewling choked moans into the redhead's ear. Natasha guides you through the orgasm once more, still slowly guiding your hips to an eventual stop. When you finally emerge from the crook of her neck, you're panting.

The rockstar admires the way your chest rises and falls, the green crystal still hanging around your neck, nestled in the valley of your breasts. "God, you're so fucking perfect," she husks, drinking in your figure. "I could get addicted to the way you look falling apart for me."

You don't say anything in response as you still try to calm yourself from the high, head feeling fuzzy as you look back at the redhead. She smirks widely as she watches you, utterly obsessed with the way you look sat on top of her, eyes glazed over in residual pleasure.

A single one of her fingers comes to swipe up some of the cum you've left slathered on her thigh, purposely brushing slightly over the top of your bruised clit just to watch you squirm a little before bringing her hand up to her own mouth. She practically laps up the stickiness coating her finger, humming lowly as your cum trickles down her throat. "God," she breathes, letting her finger fall. "I wish I had my strap so I could fuck that sweet little pussy of yours." You whine on top of her, still too inebriated to form a real response. Natasha only chuckles at your intoxication. "Would you like that, pretty girl? Like me to fuck you till you can't even think anymore?"

"Uh huh," you nod, already fantasying the image inside your head.

Natasha laughs again, tilting her head as she watches your face. "You're so cum-drunk right now I think you're already half way there. Isn't that right?" A low sound in the back of your throat is the only response, heightened when you feel Natasha's lips connect with your neck. She sucks as the soft flesh, glazing over the burn with her tongue. She stays there a moment, clearly leaving a mark on your skin that you have no idea how you'll cover up tomorrow. But quite frankly, you don't even care.

When Natasha pulls away, she notices how that glaze has left your eyes, your consciousness returning finally after your last climax. She smirks, eyeing you with that mischievous look as her face comes to rest near your cleavage, placing a chaste kiss to your sternum before looking back up. "You want me to empty that pretty head of yours some more?"

You're barely able to focus on her words as she lets her tongue circle around your nipple. In the end, you don't answer her question, simply whine as her teeth tease at the hardened bud. "Tasha-"

The nickname slips from your tongue almost too easily, your brain not even recognising it. Natasha, however, does, and she can't believe how amazing it sounds coming from your mouth. "Fuck," she whispers, coming face to face with you again. She looks into your eyes for a long moment before she begins to shift her body, turning yours with it. "Lie down for me, baby," she murmurs, twisting your body to lay down on the couch beneath you. "Just like that."

You let her manoeuvre you to the perfect position, arching slightly as the cold leather of the couch hits your back. Lying back, you watch as Natasha leans over you, placing a few quick kisses to your neck before travelling lower. When she reaches your waistline, her fingers work to unzip the skirt still clinging to your waist. She makes light work of undoing it before beginning to pull it down your legs, placing kisses on your warm flesh as she goes. When the article is tossed aside, the rockstar begins to unfasten the boots still tied to your feet. She removes them quickly, laying them aside and soon letting her own join them.

Then, you watch in awe as the redhead slowly slips her fingers into the waistband of her own shorts, almost making a show out of it as she slips the garment down. Shorts and underwear go at the same time as Natasha strips herself in front of you, smirking as she notices the way you stare. Your eyes never leave her as her body moves back towards the couch, coming to a rest above you as her knees straddle your waist. "You're so hot," you all but mumble, mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

Natasha simply chuckles lowly at your response. "Give me your hand," she says, reaching out towards your wrist. You let her take hold, watching intently as she guides you between her legs. She runs your fingers methodically through her folds, gasping quietly as the touch. She's soaked, slick coating your digits, probably residual from where she had been touching herself earlier. "You feel that? It's all for you, baby." Natasha hums as she guides your hand through her core. You can't help but let your own little noises slip, feeling just how wet she is beneath your touch. Your fingers curl at the ends, dipping into Natasha's centre before you pull them up to rub at her swollen clit. "Ah, fuck," the star moans, pinching her eyes closed. She lets you play with her a bit longer before she eventually pulls your hand away, letting it drop to your side. Instead, she reaches the hand she was using to guide you under your right thigh, squeezing into the flesh gently. "Lift your leg for me," she says, pulling upwards on your thigh.

You let her manoeuvre your leg, holding it up to the side while she adjusts her own body. You watch as one of her legs hooks over your waist, angling herself so that her core is directly above your own. When she sinks down to meet you, a lewd gasp sounds from your mouth, the new sensation electric against your skin. Natasha's cunt is wet against your own, accentuated by the cum that sill coats your sensitive folds.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, entirely in awe at the new feeling of the redhead against you. The star smirks down at you, letting your legs fall back into a relaxed position as she anchors herself to your hips with her hands. When she begins to move against you, the loud moans that escape you coat the entire room.

Her clit brushes beautifully against your own as Natasha rocks her hips back and forth, the noises of your combined wetness thick in the air. "Fuck, you feel so good," the redhead moans out, her own breath becoming shallow as she rolls against you. It doesn't mean that she lets her guard down entirely though, quickly noticing when your head lolls to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. "Eyes on me, beautiful," she directs, reaching out to grasp your face.

You let her turn your chin as you open your eyes back up, drinking in the sight in front of you. Natasha rocks back and forwards against you with a perfect rhythm, her tits bouncing with each new thrust. Natasha sees you watching and reaches for your hands, guiding them up to plump flesh of her chest. You squeeze roughly, savouring the delicate moans that spill from the rockstar's lips.

"God, you're so hot," the redhead murmurs between heavy breaths. "I just can't get enough of you. Maybe I'll just have to bring you along on tour with me, let you be my little groupie."

You moan loudly, not only from the way Natasha's cunt grinds over your swollen clit, but also at the teasing voice and notion of her words. Natasha smirks down at you. "You like that idea, huh?" she husks. "You wanna be my little groupie who I fuck like this after all my shows?"

You don't have the ability to form a response to her, merely putting all of your energy into chasing your combined high. Your back arches off the cold leather of the couch as you try your best to rock your hips against the rockstar's, listening to the sound of your wet cunts grinding desperately against one another. When a particular thrust bumps across your clit, a whine sounds low in the back of your throat. "Tasha-"

The nickname does wonders once again in Natasha's mind, sounding so sweet lacing your tongue. "Fuck," she murmurs, trying to keep up her pace. "I want you to say my name like that when you cum baby, okay?"

You nod weakly, chest heaving. "Good girl." Natasha bucks slightly as your clits brush over one another, her legs twitching by your sides. "Fuck."

The two of you continue to rock against one another, your moans harmonising together as you both climb closer to your climax. Your hands rest upon Natasha's full thighs, gripping for support as the pleasure rolls over you in waves. She clasps at your waist, feeling the thin layer of perspiration coating your skin.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me," Natasha finishes, thrusting into you. You do as she says and let that coil loose in your stomach, letting your orgasm shred through you as you all but scream out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tasha."

Her name dripping from your lips sends the redhead over the edge too, rutting against you as she cums hard. "Shit," she mumbles, riding her wave as the combination of your juices blends together and soaks both of your legs.

Both of your bodies tense, movements becoming sloppy as your highs hit. When nearly a minute later, you've both come down from the peak, Natasha slowly untwines your legs from one another. She flops down on the couch beside you, barely enough room for the two of you to lie next to another. For a while you two sit with the combined sounds of your own heavy breaths, both of your bare chests heaving in the warmth of the room.

"Oh my god," you manage to slip out, finally aware of how you've just had the best sex of your life. Nothing could ever compare to what Natasha had just done to you, no other partner ever even coming close to making you cum that hard.

Natasha seeks amusement in your blown out state, clearly enjoying the revelation painted on your face. She rolls her head towards you, her signature smirk making one final appearance. "I told you, you wouldn't regret coming back stage with me."

Your head turns towards her, meeting her widened eyes still dark with lust. You almost want to tell her she's wrong, that all your avoiding earlier had been the right path you go down, but you know it's all bullshit. She was right, there wasn't a single ounce of regret in your bones.

Natasha smiles at your clear agreeance, almost smug in the way she licks her lips. She props herself up on to one arm, leaning over you with those dark emerald eyes. Her fingers come to find the crystal hanging around your neck, rolling the stone between her fingertips as she smiles deeply. Then, she turns back to you, looking as sly as she first had back in that bathroom stall. "Now," she drawls. "About that groupie thing..."

#natasha romanoff #rockstar natasha romanoff #rockstar nat #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fic #band au #✧yana writes

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munariplans · 5 months

Text

welcome home, red | natasha romanoff

synopsis: natasha knew going on a mission where you were deliberately left out was a bad idea. going on a mission tracking down your ex-girlfriend was even worse; for natasha finally learns how jealous she can get.

natasha romanoff x reader | felicia hardy x reader

word count: 6.7k words

a/n: i see your requests for jealous!natasha with spidey!reader, and i got you :) hope you enjoy!

masterlist

BREAKING NEWS: CURIOSITY KILLS THE CAT? you know what they say, strike when the iron is hot! well, the black cat, infamous for her string of break-ins and robberies, may have struck the iron and burned herself. stealing a prized necklace from the wife of new york’s biggest crime boss, the black cat has certainly outdone herself this time, because silvio manfredi is out for her head, and everyone else’s too! read more on page 6 of this exclusive piece.

perplexed expressions, furrowed eyebrows, sighs of frustration. everyone was on edge, at the threat of the manfredi family wanting to blow up entire parts of new york in order to find the black cat. villains were so dramatic, natasha thought. in no universe would she have ever wanted to threaten to kill entire cities for the love of her life, if one even existed.

but then her phone chimed in with a notification from you, sending a photo of her favourite animal that you spotted on your mission, and she knew she would be retracting her words. even in life-threatening, death-defying missions that you were on, you never forgot to see her everywhere you went. stupid feelings, and stupid crushes, natasha shut her eyes, fighting the urge to giggle at a text from the person she was head over heels for.

“natasha?”

she looked up from her phone, to realise she was the only one still in a half-positive mood. everyone else was biting their lips in worry. she regained her composure, and answered fury, “yeah?”

“you heard me? we’re not leaking this information to her. she won’t be a part of this mission at all.”

the look of confusion on her face gave her away. clint, maria, and fury answered her at the same time.

“your little crush.”

“your wife that you claim isn’t.”

“the person you’re smiling at your phone like an idiot at.”

she glared at clint for the last remark.

“...is there a reason why?” the mission had seemed almost perfectly suited to your skillset.

fury merely shrugged. “no reason. it should just be you three that are privy to this information, that’s all. find the black cat, find the necklace, use it to rope manfredi in, and one less crime boss off the streets.”

even then, she had a nagging feeling that he had not been telling the truth.

–

you ended your latest mission with a bang; quite literally. being flung about fifty metres into the air from a bomb explosion in the middle of the ocean, you would hardly call the mission a failure. no civilians were injured, you had killed the maker of the bomb along with it, and you were not dead, at least.

washing up on shore unconscious and with water in your lungs? a concussion that would have sent any regular person into a permanent coma? being found by villagers and rushed to the medical wing of the avengers tower within a span of a few hours? almost pronounced dead on arrival? sure, you were all of those, but not dead.

honestly, you would have given very little regard for your own life being lost in that mission if not for one person. the one person who stayed with you until the very last minute for her own mission.

“i need to stop welcoming you back in a hospital bed, you know,” natasha grumbled into your neck, hugging you bone-crushingly when you awoke and smiled at her.

she looked mad, but you knew she was just thankful you were home. you wrapped your arms around her waist and brought her to lie down on top of you. she was reluctant to crush your already broken ribs, but you were insistent. “i missed you too. and if i hadn’t been blown up, i had planned to bring back a souvenir from the airport for you.”

“you coming back is enough for me,” she mumbled. you knew she was never this vulnerable with anyone else. the words of because i love you were begging to roll off her tongue, but natasha knew she wasn’t strong enough for that. yet.

you let her ignore the first call for her to assemble at the loading zone, then the second, by the third, your hand had tapped her waist and she had groaned into you once more. “i don’t want to go.”

“what’s this mission about, anyway? nobody’s told me about it since i got here.”

natasha considered her choice of words for a moment, considering whether she should, when fury’s own warnings came back to her. she was never one to break promises. “just some…thing. about retrieving something and using it to lure a criminal.”

you chuckled. “seems like more of a police case than an avenger’s one. or one for a friendly neighbourhood spider.”

“well, the friendly neighbourhood spider looks like a mummy right now, so i don’t think so,” she had reluctantly got up, gathering her things, “i’ll see you in a few days?”

you let her hug you goodbye. “by then, i’ll be fit enough to welcome you home. properly.”

–

natasha once again found it hard to understand why fury hadn’t just waited for you to get slightly better, and go for this mission yourself, because the black cat’s tricks and games were definitely something you could have handled better than anyone he had assigned on the current team. she struggled to even catch up with the woman, and clint’s arrows often couldn’t squeeze deep enough into the slips and cracks she was slipping through. maria couldn’t even get a shot or trap clear to get to her. it would all have been solved so quickly with your webs zipping and getting to her; not to mention your ability to soar through the skies like she could.

this was in addition to the fact that she was adamantly denying having the necklace with her.

with another hit to the face, she was shouting to natasha, “i don’t have what you’re looking for!”

natasha swallowed the blood gathering in her mouth. the woman could throw a punch. “then why are you running?” black cat cornered her this time, slamming her against the wall as her breath mixed with natasha’s. immediately, it was too close, far too close. the grin that the enemy was sporting for her was glinting with mischief, and a trace of attraction. “...if someone as pretty as you were chasing me, with those fiery eyes and red hair of yours, who wouldn’t?”

she was gone before natasha could catch her next breath, handcuffing the black widow to the pipe next to her. she had come so close. natasha knew the black cat was at her wit’s end as well; there was only so far she could run from the avengers.

–

however, one thing the woman had failed to consider, was how suspicious you found the entire operation being. rarely had natasha refused to tell you about the missions she was going on, and rarely did fury put so much emphasis in hiding it from you either.

you weren’t in favour of stalking them, per se, but what were you supposed to do? the hospital wing was boring, and you were (almost) ready to go back to full, operational missions. the broken rib was only hurting a little bit, by that point.

you watched maria through the tracker in her suit, flipping through yet another string of messages natasha had left unanswered. she never failed to reply to you, at least not beyond a day or two.

sighing, you put your mask back on, and dived down the building to begin your chase. the team wasn’t far away.

–

“we got her. hill should be able to lure her into the construction site.” clint’s comms crackled in natasha’s ear, and she set herself into position. finally, one of the traps maria had set worked. minimal casualties, a faraway location. the team should be able to interrogate her there.

natasha finally caught up. the black cat, panting and looking slightly less composed, had nowhere to run. she knew clint was on the roof, and maria was nearby. there was only the waters behind her to escape to.

she aimed her gun, then, “let’s make this a lot easier for all of us. you hand us the necklace, you’re looking at a shorter jail term. months, maybe.”

the black cat only returned with another smart retort, before trying to take aim at maria above. she cursed and flinched when the agent successfully dodged. natasha, i am letting the arrow fly if she tries to get any closer to you, clint declared in her comms. natasha agreed.

the woman took one step closer, natasha clicked her gun.

“you have to let me go,” she explained, “they want me as bad as you do.”

“you’d rather come with us, or die with them?”

black cat sighed irritatedly. she darted her eyes once more, and the moment she spotted something in the sky, the ground beneath natasha suddenly shook.

she could only see clint’s arrow fly at the corner of her vision; maria ducking down after something hit her, and then, her own gun flying out of her hands. natasha hit the ground right after, rolling away consciously to avoid whatever had caused the interruption.

the second she gathered her bearings, however, it felt like time had stopped. her heart began beating rapidly, and she knew she should have just bypassed fury’s advice right away then. if she had, she wouldn’t be dealing with this right now.

for if she had, natasha wouldn’t be staring down at you, standing in front of the black cat protectively, glaring at the three of them, and their weapons confiscated and broken into pieces right at your feet.

–

you had never looked more angry. in fact, natasha had never even seen you this angry before. fists clenched, your stance was protective, the eye lenses narrowed and squinting down at her in rage. she had never been subject to even an ounce of irritation from you before. natasha was almost afraid of what would happen.

thankfully, clint and maria had come down from where they were, clint with considerably more caution in his step than he had been much earlier.

he called your name, and, “i need you to calm down. we–”

“–i don’t need to hear an explanation.” you cut him off. behind you, the black cat grinned, and came a little closer. you seemed to pay her no mind.

“we couldn’t tell you,” maria tried helping him, but the glare you shot at her wasn’t much better.

“you absolutely could,” then, your eyes met natasha’s, and she wanted to crumble under your gaze, “you absolutely could.”

clint pointed out it wasn’t fair, that you knew how these things went, and then, in a lower tone, “she doesn’t know. let it go.”

“why were you chasing her?” you only replied, shielding the black cat when maria tried aiming her spare gun as the woman came to your side, “we had a deal.”

“our deal didn’t involve her stealing a necklace that could wreck cities. you’ve already seen the bombings down in harlem and hell’s kitchen, do you still want to protect her for this one?”

your facade cracked in the slightest bit. only natasha noticed, but your eyes had gone slightly wider, a questioning look sent to the woman behind you. with your stance a little more tense, you were about to lower the hand protecting her, when natasha quickly realised that your confrontation had bought her just enough time.

the black cat slung her arms around your torso, and pressed a kiss to your cheek before whispering, “my hero, my spider. always coming to save me.”

all natasha saw was blind rage before the tear gas that black cat had thrown shrouded everything else in pain and smoke. she could hear clint screaming in frustration of just what it meant.

by the time the team had torn through the gas, you and her were gone.

–

clint had exactly three seconds to register the mad woman storming towards him, before he was slammed against the wall with natasha’s face up in his. he breathed heavily, the air still thick from the gas, but natasha’s fists were enough to ground him back to reality.

“alright, enough games. i was kind then, i’m not feeling so kind now. who. exactly. is. this. black. cat?” she gritted her teeth saying the last few words, the searing memory of seeing another press her lips against you still fresh in her mind.

if he wasn’t so afraid for his life, clint would almost have found the jealousy and possessiveness natasha claimed she never had over you quite funny.

but her hands were almost choking him by then, the anger coursing through her veins and the hurt of you keeping such a huge secret from her fuelling only her rage.

had she been a fool for trusting that you would stay loyal in your pure, unbridled love for her all this while? perhaps not. perhaps you, like everyone else, got tired of waiting for her to be ready, too. perhaps you weren’t what she thought you were after all.

when it was clear the archer couldn’t find the words to tell her, maria answered for him. she pulled natasha away, and forced her to think clearly again.

finally, when she was calm enough to hear the both of them out, maria announced that the black cat, felicia hardy, had been your ex-girlfriend.

–

while felicia was more than happy to be swinging through the city in your arms again, you were getting more and more anxious; what clint had said still ringing in your ears. surely, felicia wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t risk her life, and so many others’, like that. surely, she wasn’t so stupid.

you landed abruptly through her apartment window, shattering the glass to her kitchen and throwing the both of you on the ground. felicia groaned at the rough landing, and you had half a mind to apologise for getting distracted and missing the window, but you remembered that you should be even angrier at her.

“what the hell were you doing?” you interrogated, and when it appeared that felicia was keen on escaping, your webs were binding her to the dining room chair. “stealing a necklace, i don’t care. but stealing manfredi’s wife’s necklace!”

“aw, so you do still care about me, spider,” felicia cooed as you took off your mask and sat across from her. you had wanted to shake her in frustration, to give you answers instead of flirting with you once again.

you held your hands out in front of her, and she continued, “bringing me home, swinging through the city, just like we used to. bailing me out from your stupid friends, trying to save the world. you’ve always been a romantic.”

“they’re my colleagues. and my family now too. you…felicia…why?” you still couldn’t wrap your head around why she had decided to steal that necklace, of all things. it was not like she needed the cash, and if she had wanted to find a way to fuck around and feed her kleptomania, there were so many other necklaces that were beautiful, worthy of stealing. surely not manfredi’s.

she shot you a dopey smile, and you sighed in frustration. there was always back and forth with felicia. “spider, spider…”

you stood to clear your head before you would resort to punching her, time being of the essence with so many parts of new york being bombed and her being her usual self around you. heading to her sink, you let the water run; you couldn’t hurt felicia even if you tried. damn yourself for never being able to do so.

but then, her voice was softer, kinder. “...you never considered if what your friends are saying is the truth?”

head hung low, you gazed up to her. the webs were gone, and she was standing over you, though keeping a safe distance. she knew you were still fuming, and confused, and feeling so many things at once. she continued, “you never considered the fact that maybe, just maybe, i didn’t steal the necklace? you blindly trust your friends, just like that?”

your spider senses weren’t tingling. she was being honest. switching off the tap, you turned to face her, and she took off her own goggles, letting her hair down. this was her best attempt at being vulnerable. but you weren’t so quick to fall for it; she had gotten past your defences before. “they’re better at being honest than you are.”

you missed the hurt look that flashed on her face momentarily. then, you stood straighter, a hand gripping the counter as you steadied yourself and what you were about to say.

shaking your head, you faced felicia with, “this, this, is why we broke up. because you can’t stop lying, and you can’t keep the life of crime behind you. even when i told you i can’t stay with you because of it, even when i told you that…if you gave it all up, i would have done anything, anything, to provide for the both of us. i would’ve even left SHIELD, the avengers, everything, for you.”

felicia bit her lip then, crossing over the threshold between the living room and kitchen, standing before you. you weren’t on your guard anymore. she put up a hand to your cheek, the sharp claws slowly running through soft skin. she could have scratched a permanent scar there and you would have let her.

she could have let her emotions run, but felicia was always better than you were at keeping matters close to her heart guarded. instead, she scoffed, and said, “the red one. out of your friends earlier. i’ve never seen her before.”

“she’s…newer.”

“she’s pretty. smart, capable, quick on her feet.” felicia pointed out. you nodded your head, the thought of natasha being mad, and confused, suddenly sending a wave of guilt through your heart. you shouldn’t have gotten so angry with her. she didn’t know.

“she was also green with jealousy when i kissed you on the cheek,” felicia giggled, and you looked up sharply. she nodded, and continued, “are you and red together now?”

you blinked, almost letting your guard down, almost telling felicia everything. that you wished you were together with red, that you loved red more than you loved anything else, that red was all that you ever wanted. and that red, mostly, was not ready for it all, but you would gladly wait for red until she was. that you would do anything for red. that–

“don’t touch her.” you warned, voice suddenly serious. the hand on your face was removed, a death grip with your own. felicia smiled.

“so protective, spider. i miss when you were that protective over me.”

she removed her hand from your own, and walked to her bathroom, before bringing out her first-aid kit. clint had shot an arrow that managed to slice past her thigh. you watched as she nursed herself back to health, not flinching even as she invited you to come over to help.

felicia could tell you had a lot on your mind. bringing up natasha was probably not a good choice. but felicia still cared for you, at the very least, and helped put you out of your misery by saying, later on, “i didn’t steal the necklace, you know. i’m telling the truth.”

your eyes were still fixed on her from where you were in the kitchen. she sighed. “the avengers, and practically everybody else, think it’s me. and of course, i fit the description, i fit the motive, everything. it was so easy to pin it on me and let everyone chase after me. but i didn’t steal the fucking necklace. i found out about it being gone and me being a thief the same time you all did.”

“...then why did you run?”

she scoffed, as if you had just said the stupidest thing in the world. “because they were threatening to kill me, spider. i have the whole world against me. and…and i didn’t have you to come rescue me anymore, i thought. i had to run.”

“when you were innocent?”

“better than being killed by fucking gangsters, right?”

“you could’ve called me.”

she looked up at you. you had sat down in front of her, inspecting the bandages she had wrapped around her thigh. when you slowly unwrapped them to help put them on tighter for her, felicia asked, “...would you have come?”

you didn’t make eye contact with her. but the hand on her thigh was enough reassurance. “you know i would’ve.”

sixty seconds was not a long time. but to felicia, sixty seconds of her own contemplation, her going against her own head and morals, of thinking if it was worth what would come after what she was going to do, felt like forever. she was breathing heavily in the cold night air, your eyes were transfixed on the bandages before you, hand not moving an inch, and she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do. what else she could do.

so after those sixty seconds, felicia leaned in and kissed you. again. again and again, just like old times, just like all those heists and burglaries you had rescued her from before. your lips tasted the same, the arms around her felt as safe as ever, and when she pushed you into her bedroom and began undressing the both of you, the look of longing, and betrayed love you gave her was one she knew all too well.

her hips moved against yours that night, hands thrashing and fingers finding their way into each other’s hair, and for a while, felicia knew she was safe again. for a while, the avengers, manfredi and his stupid goons, everyone else, was drowned out by the sound of your moans and cries, and felicia could let go. she finally reunited with her spider, even if just for a night, and what a reunion it fucking was for her.

–

the next morning, however, you were dressed before she could even lift her head off of the pillow, shaking your head and muttering, “i have to go back. i have to go back. they’ll be looking for me.”

she could tell you were surprised by her interruption of, “and what if they do?”

“they’ll think i’m working with you. and i can’t be seen working with you.”

it felt almost cathartic to say, “fuck you.”

you then turned, a sympathetic look on your face and an apology leaving your lips in the next second. “you know what i mean, felicia.”

“you don’t think i’m telling the truth? that i didn’t steal the fucking necklace?”

you were silent for a while. your hand was crushing the shirt you were holding, deep in thought. if it weren’t for your spider senses, you would have almost missed catching the pillow felicia had thrown at you.

putting the pillow down, you then turned to her again, and said, “i’m giving you the opportunity to prove you’re telling the truth. come back to the avengers tower and work with us on finding the real thief.”

–

natasha couldn’t believe that you thought bringing felicia back was a good idea. that you thought any part of your plan was a good idea at all.

it was one of the rare few times that she had voiced out what she thought was a stupid plan; tapping into the black cat’s skills and intel, and trusting her with information, to draw out the real thief of the necklace. it was one of the rare few times she was arguing with you.

there had been more you’re putting all of us at risk and i don’t see a better solution exchanges between the both of you, each one escalating in intensity. the rest of the team were equally on natasha’s side, with the exception of fury, who had been brought in to weigh in on the situation. you had spent another hour convincing him earlier not to turn felicia in himself.

in the end, he stepped in, and natasha was bound to follow his directions. that didn’t stop her from sporting the most irritated, annoyed look on her face, however, as she brusquely brushed past you and felicia, who looked more than smug that she was temporarily welcomed back to the team. you were about to give chase, when fury instructed you not to. it was best to let natasha calm down first.

“pissed off red to bring me in,” felicia caressed your face then, causing you to bite your lip in annoyance as well, “i’m honoured, spider.”

–

she could feel herself sinking in jealousy; watching the way you and felicia interacted.

you helping felicia to put on the comms in her ear and the bulletproof linings in her suit; you used to help natasha with that. even when she had gotten more accustomed to the avengers, even when she could put it on herself by then.

you letting felicia take the seat beside yours in the quinjet. it clearly was natasha’s, it even had her fucking initials carved into the armrest on it, when she was bored on a flight once. truth be damned that fury had requested you to keep felicia on a tight leash, but the seat beside yours? really? it hurt more than it should have, as natasha forced herself to avoid eye contact with you right as she stormed past you. you only realised your mistake a second or two later, seeing her angry charge to the very back of the jet, and you were just about to ask felicia to move the seat in front of yours when natasha had told you to save whatever you wanted to say to her.

felicia could almost laugh at how nervous, and guilty, you looked all throughout the flight. if she wasn’t so on edge from the mission requirements and having to work in a team herself, she could almost feel a tinge of jealousy that you were treating your new girl better than you had ever treated her, even. red must have been special, she thought, as you finally unbuckled your seatbelt and made the journey to the back when the flight stabilised.

“nat,” you called her uncertainly, fingers digging into your palms as you waited patiently for her to finish chewing out a younger agent to look at you. then, she made eye contact with you, standing by her seat and eyes insecure, and she hated herself for not being able to stay mad at you for long.

still, she had a facade to keep. “what?”

you let out a smile when she came back to your side, gratefully taking the seat beside hers. “i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“i don’t know,” you had an inkling that you knew what, but you continued, “you’re mad at me. and i’m sorry for the disagreement earlier. i just…i have a plan, alright? and i’m sure it’s going to work, so…i wanted to defend myself. i’m sorry if it made you upset.”

she huffed, rolling her eyes. out of the corner of her eye, however, she could spot you looking even more guilty, and she relented. “you did make me mad.”

“i really am–”

“–but work is work, i know. and i trust your capabilities. you better bring the thief back with a plan, because it’s going to be a lot of paperwork and answering to board members if this doesn’t work out. and i’m not staying up late for all the nights you’re going to do that with you.”

she thought it was stupid how her heart managed to beat impossibly faster as your smile grew, nodding gratefully. “thank you for trusting me.”

then, the both of you spotted felicia unbuckling her seatbelt too, and approaching maria upfront. you made the decision to let the agent handle her for a while, returning your gaze to natasha.

somehow, the both of you managed to blurt out felicia’s name at the same time, both raising the other’s eyebrows.

“you go first,” natasha declared. you nodded.

“are you okay with her? i know…that you’re not so comfortable working with the enemy. i’ll keep her by my side for the whole mission, and we’ll stay away, so you don’t get bothered so much.”

natasha thought it was amazing how oblivious you were; that the problem was you being too close to felicia, and not close enough to her. that she didn’t want you sticking by felicia’s side, because she was scared she was going to lose you to her instead.

“i…” before she could finish her sentence, however, maria was screaming for you, for felicia had finally annoyed her enough to warrant a restrain back to her seat. that, coupled with the fact that she had stolen maria’s watch without her looking even back at the construction site, and she had finally noticed.

i wish i didn’t have to share you with her, was what natasha wanted to say, as felicia giggled at your rough handling of her back to her seat, attempting to squirm out of your grasp.

–

the mole had been from SHIELD; as felicia’s expertise let on. she had data from all around new york, obtained less than illegally, and with the technological expertise from maria, the team managed to crack down just who had been plotting for the downfall of manfredi, and collaterally, new york, all along.

the jet made a ninety degree return after wasting time chasing a lead that had previously run dry, and you were at the other end of a phone call receiving fury’s wrath at the discovery of there being a mole from SHIELD. you had wanted to tell him it wasn’t so surprising, with the onslaught of rapid new hires, but decided to hold your tongue.

it was you who finally proved that having felicia onboard was a good idea. coming up with a plan in a span of a few minutes, it was so well thought-out and elaborate, maximising everyone’s skills and covering every single possible outcome for capturing the thief, natasha found herself incredibly endeared with your cleverness; hanging on to your every word as you explained the details to the team gathered around you.

in fact, her dopey look directed at you was what prompted felicia to snicker, and blurt, “so smitten with our spider now are we, red? earlier you looked like you wanted to bite her head off when she was fighting for me.”

to natasha’s surprise, it was you who stepped in first, “enough, felicia. focus.”

it was all the more attractive, and endearing, when she caught you preventing felicia from leaving later, warning her with a “don’t touch her” again, whatever it meant. natasha had wanted to throw her arms around you and kiss you right in that moment.

–

with felicia on her right, and you close behind her, natasha was chasing the thief, almost expertly slipping in and out, zigzagging through the maze of buildings surrounding the area. but you knew that the road would end at an intersection, and natasha and felicia would inevitably have to split to take a chance on where the thief would go.

and while natasha had hoped wholeheartedly that you would take her side, and trust her instincts, her movements faltered when she snuck a look behind to find you gone. in the next second, you were by felicia’s side, helping her whizz through the crowds and getting even closer to the thief as you flew.

heart beating fast in her chest, she hadn’t noticed how much it hurt to even see you choose someone else, even for a brief moment. you had made the decision that would best benefit the team, she knew, but professionalism didn’t count for the ache in her heart then, as she picked up her pace again and unwillingly round the corner in hopes of cutting off the culprit.

–

it was felicia that landed the final blow; catching the thief with a taser sharp enough for you to stop him mid-air, and pinning him to the ground. and after some struggle and maria finally arriving with backup, you were finally relieved of your sudden duties to go on a mission so soon.

catching your breath, you didn’t realise how much your ribs were actually hurting until then. maybe minding your own business the next time wasn’t such a bad idea.

but then, felicia was by your side, providing a shoulder for you to hold on to for support, as you heaved and pressed your arms against your ribs in an effort to stop it from hurting when you breathed too hard. it was one of the few kind things she had done; the least she could do for you after you’ve helped to clear her name, once again.

you leaned into her support, and upon sensing that her job, and temporary alliance with the avengers, was done, she whisked you away briefly to discuss her options before the actual avengers took matters into their own hands.

natasha watched from a distance as you walked away in felicia’s arms; understanding how betrayed you could have felt with the avengers, and how painful it must have been to find a mole in the very organisation you had worked for for so long. what she couldn’t understand was how you could possibly be leaving her, when you would be taking her whole heart with you if you left, as well.

if natasha had more courage, she would have at least tried to stopping you. but she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever want to force you to stay. even if it was possibly the last time she was seeing you, even if it meant the possibility of you leaving before she has the chance to tell you she loves you.

her chest was closing in on her, breaths short and restrictive, and natasha knew she had to get away before the world caved in on her.

–

felicia led you into a clearing, and you forced yourself to let go of her to lean against a wall. you could tell she was looking at you with pity, and bit your lip at the foul taste it left in your mouth.

“compromised intelligence, your friends at each others’ throats, your own boss not trusting you enough to see me again,” she pointed out, hiding a teasing smirk, “your future’s looking bright, spider.”

“thanks.”

she watched you slide down the wall, the pain exploding on your side. you hated that she sunk to your level, and reached out for your hand. you didn’t know why you let her. her fingers were cold as she held your own.

“give it up, then. there’s no hope staying now, right?”

you let out a sneer. “then where would i go?”

“with me. come with me. would you be able to do it? give all this up for me now?”

you realised that felicia had suddenly grown more vulnerable; her eyes a little teary and her lip between her teeth. her other hand was helping you hold on to your injury, her touch cold and unsure. a sigh left your lips, knowing her usual teasing glint was gone. this was the felicia you loved most in the past.

but it was not felicia you loved, not anymore. and while you were thankful for the opportunity to love her, and that you didn’t regret what you had with her, you knew your heart was with someone else now. someone who was waiting for you to return home to her, someone who loved you more than you knew of it yourself.

you slowly removed the hand that was holding your injury, smiling at felicia. she knew.

“red?”

“i have red now. and you and i are better off apart, you know this, felicia,” you held her face in your hands then, tone comforting, “you know i care about you, always have, always will. and thank you, for loving me, and helping us for this mission. but i’m not going anywhere without natasha.”

her claws withdrawn, felicia nodded understandingly. you continued, “keep your head low for a while. manfredi will still be looking for you, so will the police. i’ll try to cover up for you as much as i can, but don’t get into too much trouble. there’s only so much i can do.”

she laughed, getting up as she heard the police sirens approaching. she was sure you had picked up on it much earlier.

“red really is special, huh?” you nodded at her question, smiling at the thought of going back to natasha later on.

“bye for now then, spider,” her hair blowing in the wind, felicia almost looked finally at peace.

“take care, felicia.”

you informed the police officers that you saw the black cat disappear from your sight just seconds before you arrived.

–

natasha was lying alone in bed by the time the other avengers returned. having left early, her room was dark and silent; the only sounds of her chest heaving quickly and her cracked sobs filling the air.

there was a knock on the door from maria, calling out for her, but natasha ignored her subsequent knocks after telling her to go away from the first one.

but then an hour later, there were two signature knocks on her door, following by you keying in the passcode to her room that she had only told you, and natasha’s attention was suddenly rapt.

she realised she probably looked a mess, and pathetic, for sobbing her eyes at out at the mere possibility of you leaving. but in her defence, she didn’t know, and you mattered too much to her for her to see you leave right in front of her eyes.

“don’t switch on the light,” she warned, and your hand retracted from the light switch. you were about to ask her why, when she continued, “just…come here. come here and hold me, please.”

you were more than happy to oblige, sliding between the sheets and having your arms find themselves around her shivering body. she naturally leaned back into you, and natasha wondered if your senses were more elevated than she thought they could be, as your hands came up to wipe the tears she didn’t want you to see.

at the comfort of your touch, she could only ask, “...are you leaving me? for…the black cat?”

she could feel you smile behind her, and your head resting at the space between her neck and shoulder. instead of replying, you said, “i actually went out to get you some donuts, and a few movies for us to watch, you know. i finally get to welcome you home, properly.”

natasha feels like her heart is going to burst. you chose her.

“but of course…just being with you is enough. just us, staying like this, is enough.”

natasha finally turned, seeing that you were still injured, but you reassured her by slowly massaging the frown and worry lines off her face.

she pouted. “she’s pretty.”

you brought her to a sitting position, letting her on top as you rubbed your hands over her back. “you’re prettier.”

“has nice blue eyes.”

you kissed her, softly, slowly. “mhmm, i prefer green eyes.”

“i bet you looked good with her.” she could only imagine how powerful the two of you looked; the spider and the black cat swinging through new york city. it was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

you let her see the selection of donuts you had bought; each spelling out a letter in welcome home. “i feel better when i’m with you.”

natasha finally looks back up at you, and she understands. you never had the intention of leaving. you belonged to her, right from the start.

that night, when you had fallen asleep, one arm slung around her protectively, natasha finally has the courage to tell you what she has always felt.

“i love you,” she says, before amassing all her love into the kiss she landed on your lips.

in your slumber, you smiled, and the redness didn’t leave her cheeks, even until the morning.

#natasha romanoff x reader #felicia hardy x reader #black widow x reader #black cat x reader #natasha romanoff #felicia hardy #black cat #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

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