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History (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Am I happy with this, i’m not sure but I started and finished it so why not post it.

There was a lot of history behind El Classico and over the last couple of years the women’s game became just as highly anticipated as then mens. With you leading Madrid and Alexia leading Barcelona. You were two of the best players in Spain, during the league you despised each other and with the national team you managed to play well together but that’s the limit to your partnership. It was a rivalry that went deeper than the surface, you and Alexia both having different reasons for the hostility you showed each other.

For the first time in the clubs history both El Classico’s would take place on the same day. The women had a 12 o’clock kick off at Estadio Alfredo Di Stefano and the men would be play at the Bernabéu at 4 o’clock. 

All of the Real Madrid girls would attend the game. Some planned on watching it their families, whilst others including you, had been invited to watch the game from one of the owners box’s. A few of your team mates asked if they could invite some of the Barcelona players to watch the game with them and who were you to say no. 

Your match was challenging to say the least. Both teams wanted to put on a show given that the game was sold out. You and Alexia butted heads, figuratively speaking, several times. That is until the last ten minutes of the game, the game is tied 0-0 and you have a corner. You jump for the head when your Barcelona counter part elbows you the face. 

Alexia tries to check on you but you know it is fake concern which only pisses you off more. 

“Really, we’re playing kind of game are we?” You shove her away. 

“I didn’t even touch you” within seconds she is back in your face. 

“Captains, everything alright?” The referee comes on to you. 

“Ask her again in a few minutes” you body check Alexia before going back to you position. 

Alexia watches you walk away and for a brief moment she allows her eyes to linger. The White kit really did suit you, this season you opted for white boots meaning then when you play at home you are in white head to toe. Your naturally tanned skin making your muscle look like they were sculpted. The sight alone reignited feelings she once buried deep.

During the final play of the game Olga plays you a ball down the wing and as you run for it Alexia is right in your tail. Seeing Nahikari making her way to the box, you know you need to slow the play down to give her time, this means you have to go one of one with Alexia. Knowing getting around her will be difficult you choose option B, go through her. 

You do so cleanly and she cannot argue the tackle. You send the ball in and it lands perfectly at Nahkiri feet who then slots it in the back of the net. 

You run past Alexia to celebrate with your team but not before turning around sending her a smug wink. 

The game ends 1-0. The women have done their job now it’s a quick shower and change so that you can see if the men can do theirs. 

You look around the pitch at full time and see that a few Barcelona players have family in the crowd and are staying out to talk to them, Alexia included. 

“You and Y/N re getting worse.” Alba states and Alexia ignores her sisters question knowing that she is right.

Keep reading

I never thought a single moment could changed a life until I looked up an saw thus magnificent site.

Yes please

If you are a single lesbian/bi girl, like and reblog this so we can all find a Tumblr girlfriend 🏳️‍🌈

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.

------

Tagging:

@wonderingnerd  @whofan88 @lostandsearching @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo

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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.

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