I Would Love Some New Friends

I love you

Thanks

Why do I love this sooo freaking much but yet I'm questioning my moral compass HUHHHH WHAAAAT I- but my love for this woman outshines it All......

look what you made me do - natasha romanoff

part of the greek chapter - college au

Summary: she did this for you

Warnings: dark fic, mentions of blood, murder, toxic behavior, stalking, power bottom!nat, strap on use, slapping, scratching, possessiveness, smut 18+

Word Count: 4k

A/N: it’s my reputation era (i’m just a simple gay trying to manifest reputation (taylor’s version))

i obviously do not condone this behavior. 

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

masterlist | college au masterlist

gif not mine

Natasha Romanoff wouldn’t call herself a possessive person. She was never one to hold on to things for a long time, or really care about them sticking around. 

Until you came around.

From the second you saw Natasha you were hooked. Her smug grin and carefree snarky attitude immediately lured you in. You’d never wanted anyone else so bad in your life, and the redhead never felt so wanted. But the feeling of wanting and being wanted was not one Natasha was familiar with. The fight between wanting to keep you to herself and her detached personality an everyday battle.

Keep reading

Ain't this the truth ladies.

I wanna date someone that...

 -Makes me want to pin them up against a wall and kiss tf outta them, but also someone that just down with me like rubbing their hand while I hold it, because I just fucking crave your touch that much

-Will listening to me rant about feelings that I don’t even understand, and hugs when when I’m losing my shit and crying so fucking hard that I can’t breathe, and just supports me

-Makes me want to look at them for hours, so that I can remember details of their face, and their laugh, and all the other cute things about them

-Is intellectual. Stimulate my brain, talk about life and the things that you never really understood

-Won’t runaway because I’m difficult, or just because

-Is 100% down for me and I’m 100% down for them 

Y/N: I really admire your passion.

Nat: Thank you.

Y/N: You remind me of Winston Churchill, not the way you speak, but the way you walk.

Nat, confused: Thank you?

*crosses leg ummm gawd dayum*

Come party just with me

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: It's Saturday night and you're at a party with your friends. But maybe there's a better place where you can be. [3.898 words]

Warnings: smut (+18!), alcohol, milf, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, strap on (r giving), oral (r giving), praise kink, ass slapping (r giving), hair pulling [let me know if there’s more]

To close the Halloween stories, a smut (because in the end we're all just horny, aren't we?) Also, this story is inspired by the song Mommy by Betta Lemme. Enjoy!

For this request || Masterlist

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It's Halloween. Honestly, you didn't care much for the date. It had its plus points, of course, but nothing to do with the meaning or the candy.

You liked the parties, being able to go out drinking with your friends. And mainly about how free people felt at this time of the year, allowing themselves to dress and do whatever they wanted.

Today, for example, you are at a party with your friends where you have not even arrived thirty minutes ago and you have already kissed six different people, people you had no idea who they were and that you would probably never find out.

Your gaze wanders intently around the party, searching for the next mouth to kiss (and hopefully other parts too) when you feel your cell phone vibrating inside your pocket. You pull it out with one hand, unlocking it afterwards. When you see the notification, you clench your jaw.

Hi. Wanna come over?

The simple message comes from the contact saved only with the number, no name whatsoever. But you know very well whose it is, this being one of the few numbers you have memorized.

Wanda Maximoff is a rather unstable part of your life.

You met the redhead a few months ago. Your aunt introduced you to her co-worker at an unpretentious Sunday lunch and you two got along pretty well right away.

Little did Natasha know, however, that this friendly approach concealed something more. Something instinctive and intense that neither you nor Wanda were able to contain on the first occasion you were left alone.

You had been meeting in secret ever since, the need that bordered on addiction for each other seeming more and more difficult to fulfill.

But it was all merely casual. Wanda was much older than you, had children, and a job that cost her almost her entire day. You, on the other hand, had just started college, in your second semester.

Wanda was not going to give up her obligations as a mother for a youthful romance. And you were not going to give up all the possibilities that early adulthood was capable of offering.

So you and Wanda carried on casually, with no obligations to each other, no plans for the future, and no exclusivity.

This, however, did not send away the possessive feeling you had for each other. It's not healthy, you both knew it very well, but it was uncontrollable, before you knew it, you were already being consumed by it.

Recently, you went to an ice cream parlor with a group of friends and, to your misfortune, you saw Wanda there, accompanied by a blond man whom you instantly hated.

You both noticed each other's presence in the establishment, but pretended not to know each other in order not to arouse suspicion.

Wanda felt your gaze on her constantly, your eyes glaring at the man accompanying her. The redhead then decided to tease you, brazenly flirting with her date and smiling every time she saw the effects of her actions on you.

Since that day you have avoided all her attempts to contact you, your blood boiling in your veins at the mere memory of the occasion. But even though you ignored messages and calls, the redhead still persisted. And even though you were angry, you couldn't help but relish her eagerness to see you.

But today you were in a good mood, so you decide to give her an answer, even if it wasn't the one she wanted to receive.

I can't, Wanda, I'm at a party.

You put the cell phone back in your pocket after that and walk over to the drinks table. You take some more of the dubiously colored punch for yourself, containing a grimace as the strong liquid comes in touch with your palate.

With your senses slightly affected by the amount of alcohol you have ingested that night, it takes a few seconds for you to process the new vibration of your cell phone.

You take the device out of your pocket once more, opening the messaging app, and a mischievous smile takes over your lips as soon as you see the picture.

On her bed, a carefully placed red lingerie stands out even more against the white of the sheets. You groan at the mere thought of Wanda wearing it, and the next message makes you weak in the knees.

Come party just with me.

With alcohol intoxicating your mind and your imagination wandering free and wild, you don't even bother to answer.

Shoving your cell phone back inside your pocket, you leave the party and take the first cab you can find, heading towards your longed-for destination.

-----

As soon as you reach Wanda's house and knock on the door, the redhead pulls you inside, capturing your lips with hers fervently.

"So needy." You tease with a giggle amidst the kisses, but Wanda doesn't inhibit herself, her long fingers unbuttoning your blouse as her mouth devours yours.

"I've been thinking about you all week." She confesses, moving her kisses down your neck. You bring your hands to her waist, squeezing the flesh there and making the redhead whimper by your ear.

"Oh yeah? What you've been thinking about, baby girl?" You ask, your tone of voice low as your fingers move up to her chin, guiding her to look at you again. An involuntary whimper escapes Wanda's lips at the name, and you smirk at the outcome.

The effect you have on her is clear, her body touching yours in every possible place and her eyes locked on yours pleadingly. Finally remembering your question, Wanda bites her lower lip, dragging your eyes to the action.

"About your hands." She replies in a whisper, holding your hands and bringing them to her ass. You give a squeeze there, pinning her body even tighter to yours, and Wanda moans, bringing her hands to your neck and stroking the back of it with her fingernails.

"About your lips, all over me." She continues, capturing your lower lip with her teeth and pulling you toward her. You lean forward, trying to kiss her, but the redhead is quick to deflect, bringing her face close to your ear.

"About me screaming your name with your head between my thighs." She whispers, nibbling on your earlobe, and you groan, your whole body shivering.

"Fuck, Wanda." You breathe out, holding her by the waist and reversing positions, pressing her harshly against the door, and Wanda moans in both pleasure and pain as her back slams against the hard wood.

Bringing your lips to her neck, you trail kisses and nibbles on the soft skin. Wanda sighs heavily, her hands firmly in your hair, encouraging you to continue, and pushing her hips down in search of your leg.

You decide to give her what she seeks, pressing your thigh against her center, and Wanda moans at the new contact, rocking her hips in search of friction.

Feeling the fabric of your jeans getting wet with her arousal, you feel lust coursing through your veins and you suck on a sensitive spot on her neck, the redhead sighing in response.

Wanda pulls your face up next, kissing you eagerly, and you bring your hands to her ass again to pull her up, holding her in your lap and pressing her against the door.

The redhead wraps her legs around your waist tightly, moaning against your lips as she feels the solid bump under your pants, indicating the clothed strap.

You walk away from the door then, your mouth never leaving hers as your feet lead you with familiarity to her bedroom.

Once there, you place her on the bed, her legs spreading for you as you stand. As you remove your blouse, which Wanda has unbuttoned, you take your time to admire the woman before you.

Wearing an almost transparent white robe, the redhead watches you with urgency, her eyes pleading with you to return to her as soon as possible. You can't wait to reveal what's underneath that garment.

With your blouse now dropped to the floor, you lie on top of Wanda, your knee meeting her center and making the redhead moan at the contact.

You kiss her next, your tongue exploring her mouth as if it had never been there before, and Wanda once again rolls her hips against your leg, desperately seeking to relieve the growing discomfort at the pit of her belly.

Wanda brings her hands to your back, pressing your skin down with her nails, and you shiver at the sensation, your lips descending to her neck.

Unexpectedly, Wanda holds the strap over your pants with her full hand. With the sudden movement in your center, you moan, and Wanda watches the action with a smirk. "What's this, baby? Is it for me or for some slut that was with you at that party?"

"What if it was? What you gonna do about it?" You tease with a smirk, relishing the obvious jealousy on every one of her features. Wanda, however, tries to disguise the feeling by putting an even wider smirk on her lips.

"I'm gonna remind you you'll never find anyone better than me." She replies, pushing you by the shoulders immediately afterwards and reversing positions, straddling you, and you gasp in surprise.

As Wanda brazenly rubs herself against your clothed strap, you bring your hands to her waist, assisting her in her movements while you admire her mesmerized.

The redhead then undoes the tie that held her robe closed in an agonizingly slow pace, and you watch her with anticipation.

When the item is removed and discarded on the bed, your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of Wanda in the lingerie she had sent you the photo of earlier.

Red is her color, clearly, and the garment, despite covering almost nothing, highlights her body perfectly. You wouldn't be surprised if you were drooling right now and Wanda watches you devour her with your gaze with a proud smile on your lips.

"What is it, baby?" Wanda asks feigning innocence, swaying her hips against yours again, "do you like what you see?"

Instead of answering you sit up, bringing your hands to her back and laying her down on the bed afterwards, returning to your previous position.

"You look so fucking hot in it, Wanda, but I can't wait to rip it off of you." You say, your lips mere inches from her swollen ones, and the redhead's breath hitches with craving.

"Do it then." She encourages, and you don't think twice before kissing her fiercely, Wanda's mind spinning with the intensity.

As Wanda holds your face with both hands, keeping you as close as she can, you move your hand down the side of her body to her leg, pulling her against you next, and the redhead wraps it around your waist in response.

You move your kisses down Wanda's neck, and she brings her hands down to your shoulders, encouraging you to continue.

Your mouth soon reaches one of her breasts, and you lift one hand to the other, cupping it with your full hand while teasing the other with your lips. Wanda sighs heavily, arching her back and bringing her chest even closer to you.

You continue down your kisses then, Wanda's breathing becoming more erratic as your lips move closer to her core.

When you reach the bottom of the lingerie, you look up again, smirking at Wanda's expectant eyes. You then deposit a soft kiss on her covered clit, and hear the redhead sigh heavily in response, her hands instinctively finding your hair.

You reluctantly remove the item, thinking it a crime to take such a beautiful item from her. Revealing Wanda's glistening cunt, your mouth fills with water again, and Wanda bites her lip at your hungry gaze.

Wanda watches you intently as you remove your pants and underwear. The redhead's breathing hitches with the sight of the strap, her walls clenching against nothing in anticipation.

You return close to her next, placing yourself on top of her, your face mere inches from hers again.

Capturing her lips on yours once more, you feel Wanda run her hands down your back, pressing you down, and you smile at her impatience.

With the closeness and absence of clothing, Wanda feels the strap rubbing against her center, and the redhead moans in anticipation, pushing her hips down to increase the contact.

Deciding to give her what she wants, you bring your hand up to the strap, pressing it up her pussy. Her slick coats the tip of the strap as the redhead whimpers, squeezing your shoulders in response.

When you line up the strap with her entrance, Wanda holds her breath in anticipation. And when you thrust the toy all at once inside her, the redhead moans loudly, the sound echoing through the room.

"So ready for me," you tease, pushing the strap inside her with ease, "I guess you have been thinking about me after all." You add, delighting in the way Wanda barely processes your words, too overwhelmed by pleasure. She manages to nod though.

"Y-yes... Fuck, don't stop." She lets out in between moans, but she didn't even have to ask. You continue with the thrusts, the sight of Wanda so helpless already, and the other end of the toy buried inside you working you up just as you do to her.

After a moment, you straighten your posture, the strap going even deeper inside her, hitting the spot that drives her wild. Wanda moans loudly in response, her hands gripping the sheet tightly at the sides of her body, and you smirk at the result.

No matter how many girls you hooked up with in your life, none of them would ever come close to Wanda. The redhead had the perfect reactions, every move, every sound, every look branded in the back of your mind like a burning tattoo, preventing you from sleeping or functioning properly for the next few days.

And you knew she felt the same way about you, you wouldn't be here if she didn't. But then flashes of the other day at the ice cream parlor cross your mind and you clench your jaw. You knew the effect you had on her, but you wanted to hear her say it. You'd make her say it.

"Tell me, princess," you start, and you look at her with an intensity so fiery that Wanda's whole body seems to catch fire, "does your friend fuck you like I do? Does anyone make you feel this good?"

Her walls clench against the toy vigorously. You had nothing serious, Wanda knew that very well. But there was something about your possessiveness that drove her crazy. She wanted to be yours, even if she wasn't.

"N-no... Only you-" the messy response as a result of the redhead's state of ecstasy is interrupted when you push the strap hard, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. The redhead moans loudly, arching her back instinctively, "fuck, Y/n, right there... Don't stop."

She is close, you can feel it not only by her walls throbbing ever more fervently against the strap-on, but also by her expressions. When Wanda closes her eyes, surrendering to the pleasure, you smirk.

"Oh no," you rebuke, holding Wanda's face in your hand, and the redhead looks at you in confusion, "open your eyes, pretty girl, I want you to remember who's the face that makes you fall apart."

That's more than enough to send her over the edge, and Wanda falls apart beneath you, her cries louder and louder. You reach your high soon after, and you both moan together through your orgasms.

You lean down again, capturing the redhead's lips in a sloppy kiss. Wanda struggles to respond, but the numbness of her entire body and her completely ragged breathing make the action impossible.

Bringing your hand down, you pull the strap from her slowly, and smirk against her lips at the way she trembles intensely.

You move your kisses down her neck once more. Wanda lazily takes note of your kisses moving down her body, leaving marks in places you knew she would be able to hide. But just the thought of her remembering this night when she saw them was enough to make your core throb.

Making your way between her legs, you deposit soft kisses along her inner thighs. Wanda, finally realizing what is happening, frowns. "What-"

"I gotta taste you," you promptly interrupt, and before she can object, you stick your tongue out, giving her a long lick all over her pussy. Wanda sighs heavily, the air coming out shaky. You hum at her taste, raising your eyes to her again, "so good. Always so wet for me, baby."

The redhead's breath hitches with the praise, and you smile at the reaction. You run your tongue along her folds, savoring the taste of her arousal and the way her muscles respond to each new touch.

Being honest, Wanda wasn't ready for another one, not having had time to fully recover from her previous orgasm. But you explore her so eagerly, your lips and teeth providing her with a painful pleasure she never wanted to miss... She would never be able to say no to you.

You start with slow movements, teasing her clit just enough to make her want more. Soon you feel Wanda jerking her hips down, looking for less shallow strokes, and you smirk before providing her exactly what she wants.

As your movements become faster and more intense, the redhead feels her whole body break into increasingly powerful spasms, the discomfort in the pit of her stomach becoming more and more unbearable.

Wanda brings her hands to your hair then, guiding your head exactly where she wants it to be, and you don't object, giving her exactly what she wants.

Soon enough her legs close against your head, her inner thighs muffling the loud, desperate moans that escape the redhead's mouth. Wanda was sure she would be hoarse the next morning, but she didn't care. With all the heavenly sensations you provide her, it was more than worth it.

When she reaches her limit and the stimulation in her clit becomes too much, Wanda begins to push your head back with what little dexterity she has left. But you don't stop, her taste and smell overwhelming you in the best possible way.

"S-stop, Y/n/n, I can't anymore." She pleads breathlessly, a tired giggle escaping her lips, and with one last lick you pull away from her center, climbing your way up to her again.

As soon as your face is close enough, Wanda pulls you into a sloppy, eager kiss. The redhead moans as the taste of your mouth mingles with her own, and you feel a chill in your stomach that only she can provide.

You continue like this for a while, the kiss becoming more and more intense and desperate as the minutes tick by.

Eventually, the tip of the strap brushes against Wanda's pussy, lining up against her entrance, and the redhead's breath hitches, her hips immediately jerking downward in an attempt to increase the contact. With the movement, the toy enters into her ever so slightly, but she moans lustily against your lips.

"I thought you couldn't do it anymore." You tease, a smirk playing on your lips that only increases when Wanda smiles wickedly at you. "Maybe we should wait a bit? Or just stop for now."

You knew you couldn't stop now, your addiction to the redhead was too intense to be cured so quickly. The suggestion was merely an attempt to get a reaction out of her, and, boy, you did.

Wrapping her legs around your waist tightly, Wanda thrusts her body forward, reversing positions to straddle you.

With the change of stances, the strap-on is thrusted inside the redhead at once, eliciting a throaty moan from her. You watch the scene in awe, unable to do anything but admire the woman on top of you.

"We only stop when I say so." She warns, moving her hips as her eyes remain locked on yours in defiance. A hoarse chuckle escapes your lips at her speech and you sit up, bringing your hand to the back of her neck.

Wanda's eyes flutter shut at the feeling, her hips never stopping rocking against the strap. In one sudden movement you grip her hair tightly, forcing her to look at you, and a moan of both pleasure and pain escapes the redhead's lips as she obeys.

"You're not in charge here, princess." You remind her, your lips brushing against hers as your low tone of voice sends shivers throughout Wanda's body.

"But I enjoy fucking you too much, I won't object." You speak next, stroking her jawline. But Wanda doesn't move, she wouldn't dare. You smirk at the effect you have on her.

"Go on, keep riding me." You demand, your hand meeting the soft skin of her ass in a firm slap. A surprised gasp escapes Wanda's lips, her breathing visibly uneven.

You bring one hand to the back of Wanda's neck, pulling her into a hot kiss, while the other massages her ass to soothe the sting of the slap.

That interaction alone made lust run fervently in Wanda's blood. She loved the way you established dominance. But more than that, she loved it when you claimed it.

Wanda's walls clenched vigorously against the toy at the mere thought of you putting her in her place.

But that would have to wait. She could provoke you at another time. Now all she could think about was you fucking her hard, guiding her through her third orgasm of that night.

Wanda keeps riding her high, the swaying of her hips becoming increasingly uncoordinated and desperate.

You lie down on the bed again, bringing your hands to her waist and guiding her movements.

A series of loud moans escape Wanda's lips with the exponential increase in pleasure, her hands instinctively finding the sides of your stomach, her nails digging into your skin desperately.

You project your hips upward next and a loud cry escapes Wanda's lips, her back arching back immediately.

The sounds and the scene, again in conjunction with the strap against your center, guide you over your limit, you seeing stars each time Wanda pushes her hips down again.

You can tell that she is close too, not just being able to see it, but to feel it as well. As her moans become louder and more desperate, you smirk.

"Why don't you let your neighbors know who's the only person who can drive you to the edge like this?" You ask, your hands pulling her waist down faster and faster, and Wanda smiles, biting her lower lip at the idea. "Cum for me, baby."

You didn't even have to ask. The next moment Wanda reaches her high, her nails nearly ripping your skin as she moans your name out loud, the sound making your whole body shiver.

As Wanda collapses exhausted on top of you, you watch her in ecstasy. You wouldn't admit it, but being alone with her was undoubtedly better than any party you could ever go to.

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Yess. Quarantine is so dull.

Reblog if you’re down for a new, lesbian friend who’s always listening, will make you laugh, and down for any conversation. 🏳️‍🌈😊

REBLOG IF YOU WANT ANONS.

Built From Memories

Natasha x Reader, Yelena & Reader (Platonic).

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: This is fluff I think. But it does include head trauma and a funeral. Part of a prompt off with @cuinaminute229 @writing-house-of-m and @wandsgale

Natasha died in May 2023. This is not a story about someone who died. 

She was your best friend. A fellow Avenger. Your favourite person.

That’s how you came to know her sister. 

Yelena had been snapped by Thanos. Missing for 5 years, when she came back her sister was already dead. Then, she wished she was too. 

You’d been to one to host a small memorial for Natasha in the Old Stark Tower. Noone had recognised the blonde girl who’d shown up, nursed a drink and kept her distance. This hadn’t been surprising, a lot of Natasha’s friends were mysteries to each other. 

It was only when the girl didn’t leave, staying past even Clint’s family, that you decided to speak to her.

Her Russian accent was obvious. Her grief was even more apparent. 

Eventually, you had the courage to ask. 

‘Who was she to you?’

Yelena started crying. The grief inside you came to the surface and you felt tears slide down your cheeks too.

‘My sister.’ She told you at last.

You watched Yelena crying, your heart twisting with memories of Natasha. Of a love that you didn’t know how to get rid of.

‘Oh.’ You said dumbly. ‘We’re like family.’

It made everything easier after that. Yelena came back to your house that night. You talked about Natasha for hours before she crashed on your sofa. 

Yelena looked at you like she’d finally found someone who understood grief. The world was in chaos with its suddenly doubled population. And here you both were, wishing only for the one person who didn’t come home. 

That night also gave you the chance to tell her about one more piece of Natasha.

Natasha had left her a house. Well, technically, Tony Stark had left a house to Natasha. But, May 2023 hadn’t been a good month for the Starks either. 

So, that meant it was Yelena’s.

You outlined what you knew. It was an older building, late 1800s. More a mansion than a house, it had been in the Stark family for years. Tony had told you once, that he’d spent summers there when he was a child. 

Yelena listened, her expression wary. You watched indecision battle on her face. 

‘Where is the house?’ She asked at last.

‘Ohio, I think.’ You answered.

‘I want it.’ Yelena decided, expression clearing into one of determination. Her hand gripped yours, almost unthinkingly.

Yelena seemed both strong and fragile in the same breath. You squeezed her hand back. You’d known someone like her before.

—---

A few weeks later, Yelena was still sleeping on your sofa. You knew she could afford a hotel. Technically, she had a Stark approved mansion waiting for her. You didn’t wonder why she preferred your sofa.

Yelena loved Natasha and that’s what made her family.

(Then, alcohol had bonded you like nothing else could.)

One morning, she’d disappeared into the chaos of a New York City with double the population. A solicitor had arranged to give her the new house keys.

That evening, you’d found her on your doorstep, already half-drunk. She was holding a bottle of vodka, a handful of keys and a determined expression. 

‘Fuck the house.’ Yelena told you drunkenly an hour later, shoulder clumsily bumping yours.

‘Fuck the house.’ You echoed, clinking your shot glasses and downing the drink. 

A blur of time later, you were standing in the middle of the room. Yelena was gripping your shoulders to stay steady. You could feel yourself swaying regardless.

‘Move in with me.’ Yelena suggested, eyes glassy.

‘Absolutely.’ You agreed enthusiastically, before stumbling to the ground. 

—---

You woke up miserably the next morning. You were sprawled on the sofa, Yelena’s legs were dangling across you. Your head pounded, your mouth was uncomfortably dry. Squinting, you surveyed the mess you’d managed to make.

Open suitcases littered the room. Heaps of your clothes were half deposited in. 

‘Where are we going?’ You croaked a minute later, covering your eyes with your hand.

‘Ohio.’ Came a faint groan in response. 

—-------

It took two days to get to Ohio. You still couldn’t believe it had happened.

After squinting at the mess in your apartment for nearly an hour, you’d gotten to your feet. With your pounding head, it had really just seemed easier to move.

The next day, as you drove cross-country with Yelena, you could admit that it was more than that. 

Noone knew Natasha like Yelena did. You didn’t want to lose that.

There was nothing left that you wanted. Not in this world. Being an ex-Avenger with no friends in a too crowded city seemed like the worst option. 

You knew Yelena was thinking about similar things. 

You talked for hours as you drove. It was easier to stare ahead at the road and say everything that was hard to say.

Yelena told you about a jacket that she’d given Natasha. She started to describe the green material and you’d finished her sentence.

‘I remember. She wore it a lot.’ You told Yelena carefully, watching the way her jaw tightened at your words. 

‘I didn’t know.’ Yelena said at last, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

You felt sure then, that Yelena shouldn’t be alone either.

When you entered the state of Ohio. Yelena started to tell you about her childhood. About the mission that had made them sisters.

‘Why did you want to come back here?’ You asked at last.

Yelena looked at you. She gave you a half-hearted smile.

‘I’m tired of running from my past.’ She said simply.

Your heart stung with a memory of her sister. You nodded, too choked to speak. You turned to stare out the window, willing the overwhelming pain to lessen just a little. 

Sometimes, it was still hard to breathe without Natasha.

—-------

When you first drove up the long driveway to the Carbonell House, it felt like a journey’s end. Yelena got out of her truck and surveyed the front of her new property. 

You watched in amusement as she considered the exterior of the mansion thoughtfully.

‘Yes.’ She decided at last. ‘I think I could live here.’

You snorted, reaching into the back of the truck for some bags. 

‘What a relief.’ You commented sarcastically, throwing a heavy bag over to Yelena.

—----

The first few nights in the new house were a big adjustment. The house was coated in thick dust and the air was stale. Old fashioned furniture littered every room.

Yelena settled remarkably quickly, reminding you suddenly that she was an assassin with no previous address. You remembered the way Natasha would sit absurdly in a chair, unintentionally claiming any space she was in. 

You’d been impressed by her ability to make any place seem like her home.

Yelena had inherited the same trait.

She wandered around the dilapidated kitchens with the air of a professional chef in their high end restaurant. 

When she served up questionable mac and cheese, you smirked, realising her cooking talent was also shared with Natasha.

—----

It was a relief having someone else in the large, empty house. Little moments felt infinitely more comfortable. Working together on bigger tasks, making snarky comments at each other in passing, bringing each other coffee in the morning. The pair of you felt perfectly suited to being housemates. 

Every day, Yelena went out to explore the grounds surrounding the property. The Carbonell house was extremely private, thanks to the large gardens on all sides. Once in a while, you’d look out a window and try to imagine a young Tony Stark stuck here with only a nanny for company. 

Although, you’d quickly learned with your own explorations inside the house, that Tony had actually spent all of his time here in the basement.

You’d found a lab down there, a low tech version of the ones back in the Old Stark Tower. This lab was much more hyper-personalised to the interests of a 14 year old. There was even a faded poster of Ghostbusters on the wall, dating the set up perfectly to 1984. 

When you told Yelena about your discoveries, she snorted loudly.

‘What a loser.’ She commented, adding extra hot sauce to her mac and cheese.

It turned out Yelena had much more important plans on her mind.

One Tuesday, she left in her truck before the sun had even risen. When she returned, you watched her busy herself with a project in the grounds behind the house. 

You turned back to the lunch you were making. A pasta salad, the only thing you could make with the ingredients Yelena had bought from the grocery store, that wasn’t mac and cheese. 

Yelena came in for lunch. Dirt streaked across one of her cheeks, but her smile was beaming. She ate the pasta salad enthusiastically, ignoring your cringe when she added hot sauce.

After you’d stacked the dishes in the sink, Yelena took your hand.

‘C’mon.’ She urged you, with a glitter in her eyes. ‘I want to show you something.’

She led you confidently through the long grass to the cherry blossom tree, like she was walking a well-worn path. 

You stopped in your tracks as soon as you saw it.

The headstone underneath the tree was new. You knew what it would say before you were close enough to read it.

Natasha Romanoff, Missed always by those who loved her.

You hugged Yelena without warning. Holding her tightly as the feeling overwhelmed you. Yelena’s arms wrapped around you too. 

‘Thank you.’ You mumbled. A ray of sunlight fell across the garden and, for the first time in a long time, you felt warm. 

—----

You didn’t hate the house until after that.

It was an accumulation of little things that began to aggravate you. You hadn’t anticipated the realities of living in such an old house. 

The lights flickered almost every time you entered a room. You would grit your teeth, trying to stave off the rush of fear at the momentary darkness. 

Most nights, you’d hear strange noises outside. You’d peered out of every window, but there was never anything out there. You were starting to miss the luxury of sleeping through the night.

When you told Yelena about the strange noises, she’d explained to you in a purposefully patronising tone about the nature that existed outside of New York City. 

In fact, Yelena seemed to be flourishing more and more in this old space. 

You’d always wondered with Natasha, if she could ever feel truly at home, after a life as an assassin.

Yelena had begun to answer that question herself. 

A week after the gravestone’s arrival, you woke up again to the sound of Yelena’s truck driving away. You knew you should be frustrated by her abrupt departures. Strangely, you found yourself liking it. Sparks of spontaneity were something you missed the most from your life with the Avengers. 

She came back with a dog. Giant, fluffy and entirely impractical for the lifestyle you knew she’d been considering returning to.

‘This is Fanny.’ She told you proudly. 

‘Did she come with the name?’ You asked dryly.

‘No, she’s named after someone famous.’ Yelena answered elusively.

Your initial scepticism at your new housemate soon faded. There was no doubt that Fanny was saving Yelena’s life. 

You watched them training for hours at a time, in the meadow between the house and Natasha’s gravestone.

Some afternoons, you’d sit outside by the headstone and watch the latest display of obedience from Fanny. Yelena’s satisfaction and pride also made your chest feel warm.

One night, you heard Yelena crying. You paused by her bedroom door. She was mumbling in Russian, words you couldn’t piece together, except ‘Sestra’. Fanny whined slightly and Yelena responded. You felt the aching relief that Yelena had found someone she could cry with.

—--

Fanny’s only downside was her propensity to bark and howl. She’d fixate unexpectedly on different parts of the house, howling furiously until whatever invisible offender had moved on. 

Yelena seemed to have largely trained her out of the habit, except for the occasional early morning when you’d wake in alarm to manic barking at the foot of your bed. 

Despite the frustrating old house and the morning barking fits. You couldn’t help but feel that you were finally in the right place. 

Nothing had seemed to make sense after Natasha’s death. You’d been left with an emptiness that had never really left. 

Here in this new chaos, with Yelena and Fanny and a house to fix up,  breathing got easier.

—-----

A few months into your new life, Yelena announced at breakfast that she wanted to clear out the basement. You felt yourself getting defensive before she’d finished speaking. 

‘I like that he used to live here.’ You told her bluntly. ‘I like having those memories nearby.’

Yelena patted your arm. She’d started doing it ironically to calm you down, but now she did it so often it was second nature.

‘Don’t worry.’ She assured you. ‘We can box up the important stuff. I just want to see what we can salvage from the real tech.’

You nodded, relieved by her suggestion. 

‘Maybe, I’ll put the Ghostbusters poster on my wall.’ You decided with a smile. ‘What do you want with his tech anyway?’

Yelena looked at you, expression sober except for the tiny glimmer in her eye.

‘I want to clone Fanny.’ She told you seriously.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a laugh. ‘Uh huh.’

Fanny looked up from the wooden floor at the sound of her name. 

Yelena stood up, cupping Fanny’s face between her hands.

‘You’re so perfect, we need two.’ She told Fanny, who wagged her tail.

You started humming The Addam’s Family theme tune under your breath. 

Around lunch, Yelena called you from the basement asking for your help lifting something.

You were alarmed to find her holding a large steel beam. Her back was to you as you walked in. 

‘Isn’t that something important?’ You just about had time to ask, before Yelena turned around in surprise. 

The steel beam caught the side of your head, and before you knew it you were falling. 

Just as the hazy darkness fell, you heard a familiar voice.

—----

A week later, you were sitting in a hospital bed.

Yelena was complaining about hospital food and you were reminding her that she didn’t have to eat your leftovers.

It was strange to see the transformation in Yelena that had happened since your accident. You’d regained consciousness after a brief stint in a coma, and the first thing you’d seen was Yelena looking back at you, pale and sick with worry.

Yelena had told the hospital staff that she was your sister, so they’d let her stay. You thought about that a lot at night. You wondered if the shadow of Natasha would always sit between you and Yelena. If she’d be happy about the messy family you were beginning to form.

Yelena slept over in the hospital too. In fact, other than her regular checks on Fanny, she stayed entirely by your side.

You watched her, curled up in the fold-out bed provided by the hospital. She looked impossibly young when she was sleeping. Her hands twisted into the sheets. 

Part of you didn’t want to go back to the old house now. Not after the accident. Still, you knew you had to. It was home. It was where your family lived.

—----

Yelena supported your arm as she led you out of her truck.

Carbonell House stood grand and entirely unaffected by your absence. You could see the silhouette of Fanny, paws on the windowsill as she excitedly awaited your return.

Just as you reached the front of the house, you saw another silhouette appear behind Fanny. Natasha Romanoff stared back at you, eyebrows drawn in concern. You vomited into a bush. 

‘Dizzy?’ Yelena asked, worry obvious. 

‘Mmhmm.’ You mumbled, eyes stinging with tears. The doctors had said you may have some lingering symptoms. You prayed this wasn’t going to last long. 

Yelena walked you slowly to the living room, settling you into one of the old armchairs. She disappeared for a few moments, then returned with an old metal bucket. She placed the bucket on the floor and nudged it over to you with her foot.

‘Thanks.’ You mumbled, covering your eyes as you tried to breathe through the nausea. 

‘Hi Fanny.’ You heard a voice call a moment later. It took a half second for you to realise that it wasn’t Yelena speaking.

You gasped, hands falling from your face.

Natasha stood in the corner, talking softly to the akita. Her voice was low, and you recognised the familiar tone of her worry. 

Her head lifted at the sound of your gasp. Your eyes locked and you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate.

Gasping breaths racked through you loudly, startling Yelena entirely. 

‘What is it?’ You could hear her panic. Yelena’s hands touched your shoulders.

‘I can see Natasha.’ You admitted, with barely enough breath to speak. Natasha’s eyes widened, her hand touched her chest.

Yelena moved away from you.

‘Why would you say that?’ She whispered angrily. 

‘I think I’m hallucinating.’ You told her miserably, hating the absurd pain you must be causing her.

‘Stop.’ Yelena demanded.

Natasha was still standing by the door. You squeezed your head between your hands. 

‘I don’t know how.’ You whispered.

Yelena made a sound, and you knew she was crying too. Guilt rolled through you.

‘Don’t imagine something like that.’ Yelena demanded again, voice full of hurt. 

You didn’t respond, you stared at the ground, afraid to look up and see Natasha again. 

You heard Yelena leave the room, the soft trot of Fanny following behind.

You closed your eyes. It was easier to calm down without the hallucination staring back at you. You decided to take ten deep breaths before you opened them again.

You did, and Natasha was still standing across the room. Eyes wide, arms wrapped around herself. She stared at you.

With no other plan to hand, you closed your eyes and tried a hundred breaths this time.

—----

A hundred breaths later, you opened your eyes again. 

Natasha remained. She was sitting in an armchair across from you now. Her legs were sprawled familiarly over the side.

Your heart skipped a beat. She looked so real. How could this be built from memories?

You said her name and Natasha’s attention snapped to you. 

You stood up, hand shaking as you tried to touch her. You heard Natasha’s breath hitch too. Your fingers touched the worn fabric of the armchair beneath her. 

Definitely a hallucination.

You turned away, hoping to leave Natasha behind.

—-----

She followed you. 

In fact, Natasha followed you all day. You could hear Yelena crying in her room. You didn’t go in to apologise, knowing that you could only make it worse.

It was impossible to ignore your hallucination. Especially now that she was talking. 

Natasha spoke to you all day. Old memories and new commentary mixed together in her constant monologue. She stayed by your shoulder, asking questions about Yelena, about you, about life since the snap.

At first you tried pacing, walking laps through the house and trying to shake her off. 

When that didn’t work, you tried to distract your brain. You opened your laptop and scrolled through some current events, eventually playing a short news programme.

Your heart skipped with relief when silence fell. Then, you looked over your shoulder and saw Natasha right behind you, watching the laptop screen too. 

The hallucination held a sickening level of realism. Natasha touched her lip thoughtlessly, lost in concentration at the news. You snapped your laptop shut, unnerved. 

You took the medication for your head injury with religious devotion. You decided that if the hallucination was still there in the morning, you’d ask Yelena to drive you back to the hospital.

—--

That night, you stared up at the dark ceiling, willing yourself to get some sleep.

Natasha came into your room quietly. She knelt on the floor by your bed, her hand resting near you. You felt sick again.

You closed your eyes.

Natasha kept talking, her voice low.

‘I’m sorry you’re scared.’ She told you. ‘I promise I’m not in your head. I don’t know how you can see me, but I really am here.’

You screwed your eyes shut tighter. 

Then, Natasha told you some impossible things.

She told you about the way she felt. How she’d always hoped for something more than friendship with you. That she loved you in a way that never seemed to stop.

You could hear the tears in her voice. It cracked when she mentioned Yelena.

She talked about the family they’d never quite had the chance for. Could you tell her that Natasha loved her? That she was an idiot for naming Fanny after her old fake ID.

‘Please go away.’ You begged at last. ‘I know you’re not there.’

This time, Natasha left.

—--

You slept fitfully. When you woke, Yelena was lying next to you in your bed.

The first thing you saw was her wary stare looking back at you. You startled violently in surprise.

‘I thought you might actually have some terrible hallucination causing injury and then die in the night.’ Yelena told you bluntly, a slight waver in her voice giving away her worry.

You started crying again. Slow and silent tears slid down your cheeks. You hated the stress you’d caused for her.

You stared back up at the ceiling, remembering all the things that the hallucination had told you in the night. 

‘Please tell me that at least a part of it was real.’ You whispered to yourself.

‘What happened?’ Yelena asked after a moment. Her voice was weary, prepared for the pain of your broken imagination.

You told her everything, a miserable confession.

Yelena stiffened, sitting up in the bed as you continued to speak.

When you finished talking, Yelena was silent.

You forced yourself to sit up too. A sobering realisation hit you. You covered your face with your hands again.

‘Oh no.’ You groaned. ‘I’m falling in love with my hallucination. This is so fucked up.’

Yelena’s hand covered your arm. You turned to her when she started to grip it tightly.

‘I never told you about Fanny.’ She said quietly. 

Your head tilted automatically in confusion, you ignored the slight stabbing pain the motion brought.

‘She’s named after Natasha’s fake ID from Budapest.’ Yelena continued. ‘How could you know that?’

‘I didn’t.’ You answered, feeling alarmed. ‘It was just the hallucination.’

Yelena turned to you, her eyes wide.

‘What’s my favourite insect?’ She asked you suddenly.

‘How the fuck am I supposed to know?’

Yelena dragged you out of bed.

‘Where is Natasha now?’ She demanded.

‘Gone.’ You answered, scanning the room in relief.

Suddenly, Yelena whistled an unfamiliar sound. You briefly started to wonder if you were still in a coma. 

Natasha appeared suddenly through the closed door. She looked uncertain. She whistled softly.

‘Oh.’ You breathed, still floored by the sight of her. ‘She’s back and she’s making that same whistle.’

‘Fuck.’ Yelena whispered, eyes scanning blindly over the space where you were looking. ‘Ask her my favourite insect.’

You cleared your throat, ready to ask. But Natasha was already answering. 

‘Easy.’ She told you with a half smile. ‘Fireflies.’

‘Fireflies.’ You echoed. 

Yelena swore creatively.  ‘It’s her.’

‘You’re a ghost?’ You asked Natasha, not believing Yelena’s conclusion.

Natasha nodded.

‘I tried to get you to see me when you first arrived.’ She said quietly. ‘But nothing worked. It took weeks before I could even get the lights to flicker.’

‘You love me.’ You said dumbfoundedly, as the final pieces clicked together.

Natasha wiped silent tears from her cheeks.

‘Yeah.’ She answered simply.

‘I love you too.’ You told her, heart thudding in your chest. Natasha looked at you like you were a miracle. You knew your expression matched. 

Inside you, unbearable loneliness warred with a spark of hope.

‘How do we get you back?’ Yelena shouted blindly across the room.

You and Natasha both flinched at the sound. 

‘She still has her ears.’ You commented dryly. Yelena rolled her eyes. A small laugh of strange joy escaped her and you squeezed her hand.

Natasha cleared her throat and your attention returned to her.

‘Have either of you read Tony’s notebooks?’ She asked.

—---

Natasha explained everything as you walked down to the basement. She’d read through everything in the basement with painstaking slowness. It had taken the best part of a day to successfully turn each page. 

Tony’s Ghostbusters phase had been based, inevitably, in a lot of science.

The level of technological jargon from Natasha was soon beyond you, and so you became a vessel of communication between the sisters.

You narrated Natasha’s conclusions from Tony’s work, her ideas for altering the machines that Tony had built. Her plan to get home.

Yelena nodded as if it all made perfect sense.

She started taking apart the machines around you immediately, a look of absolute concentration on her face.

Yelena worked with a diligence that you had never seen before. You realised that she was someone entirely new when she had hope.

—--

It took Yelena over a day to build the machine. You stayed with her, as a means of communication and company, only leaving the basement to bring back hastily made sandwiches and to let Fanny run outside. 

As the hours passed, the sisters communication devolved into snarky comments, old in jokes and light teases. You realised with sudden clarity, just how familiar they were too each other.

You had known them separately, but they were not meant to be apart.

—-

At last, Yelena and Natasha both agreed that the machine was complete. 

Just as you began to prepare for attempting the impossible, Yelena started muttering about checking the calculations one more time.

Natasha's eyebrow raised in confusion and you knew that it wasn't necessary.

You watched Yelena's hands shaking as she scribbled a note and understood. You took her hands between yours, Yelena looked up at you, seeming younger than ever.

‘Hey, Dr. Frankenstein.’ You called carefully. ‘I think it's ready.’ 

Yelena gave a shaky breath and nodded. She squeezed your hands back.

Natasha moved to stand beneath the long crane-like arm of the machine.

You and Yelena stood behind a large screen as Yelena began to touch the carefully decided sequence of dials. At last, she pressed the final one.

A bright flash of light and Natasha was no longer there.

—---

Fear bubbled up immediately inside you. You exchanged a look with Yelena and saw the same panic in her eyes. You both hurried from the room. At a jog, you searched through the house, calling out Natasha’s name. A sick sense of hopelessness filled you.

Then, you heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

Fanny was barking outside. 

You forgot how to breathe as you ran across the meadow, Yelena by your side. 

—----

Natasha and Fanny were standing under the cherry blossom tree.

Natasha was smiling. Elation burned through your chest.

As soon as you were close enough, she dropped something into your hand.

The strange sensation threw you. You looked down at the earthworm squirming in your palm.

‘Thank you.’ You said stupidly.

‘I just picked that up.’ Natasha told you, eyes gleaming. 

Your mouth dropped as you understood her meaning. 

You reached out, and touched her shoulder.

Natasha died in May 2023. This is not a story about someone who died.

------

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Yes plz

Who wants to volunteer to cuddle with me until I fall asleep??