bones !

⚰︎ 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡𝔢: my requests are open for any of the characters already in my masterlist, as well those not; just ask! · · ─ [ i will not write: rape, incest, age play, pedophilia, zoophilia, vulnphilia, skat, vore, ... ]

⠀⠀

⋆ ⋆ ─ one day at a time yelena became more and more obsessed with you. slowly and subtly she began to take control of your day to day life. maybe she started with location sharing. harmlessly being able to keep a live tab on you while you were out for the day or on a mission without her. while out on missions she always made it a personal point to know exactly where you are at all times. it would be enough for her then, but eventually you have a close call- or the comms go out while you’re separated from the team. you reunite with the team safe but the event sends her into some sort of downward spiral. she spends the following days glued by your side, still trying not to seem like she’s clinging.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena tries to return to your normals, but she really can’t shake the feeling like she had lost you. you had already been training together, so when she corners bucky to be your regular mission partner, he didn’t have much protest.

⋆ ⋆ ─ instead of sharing garments, yelena took full control with your wardrobe. while getting dressed in the morning or for any planned event, she would offer her opinions on your closet. she’d rummage your drawers and select her favorites. often she’d already be dressed for the day, choosing your set of clothes to compliment her own.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena would check your gear before you even got a chance to touch it yourself. She’d let you go through your own safety check, of course. she loved to watch you do anything. her heart would soar over the moon if you even brought a concert to her attention, she loved nothing more than to be the one to ease you worry.

⋆ ⋆ ─ then she moved onto the cooking. some unspoken discussion happened the first time yelena placed a bowl of homemade soup in front of you. “ty yesh.” you eat. without any protest, you picked up the spoon. it continued from there whether at the watchtower or at your shared home space- she began to control your routine.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena tracked your nutrition balance. tracked your water intake. medications? she knows the dosage and has all the alarms set. and yes, she absolutely started tracking your menstrual cycle. thought you forgot to buy your preferred sanitary product? she had already been sure she checked your cabinet the moment she was aware your luteal phase began. bled through your panties? she’d tucked an extra pair for you into her bag just in case.

⋆ ⋆ ─ after yelena had spent so many mornings dressing you, somehow you began to remember her favorites. on a day that she isn’t there to chose for you, you relied on the memories of what she had previously chosen for you. she’s always doing so much for you, the least you could do is wear the bra she likes to see you in.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena’s favored form of intimacy was caring for you. joint showers became normal. she liked helping you scrub your scalp and the hard to reach places on your back. she would moisturize your skin with her favorite scent before choosing your pajamas and sat you down to brush out your hair. she would also braid it if you had the facilities. when your both ready for bed and you’ve brushed your teeth, she would stand beside you at the bathroom counter with floss in hand. “otkryt.” open. you’d obey, lips parting and jaw opening wide for her and allowing her room to work.

⋆ ⋆ ─ at some point yelena began enforcing a strict bedtime, but she wouldn’t exactly call it that herself. she banned phones after 10PM in the name of sleep disturbances, when actually she just wanted your complete undivided attention. to be the first and the last thing on your mind each day.

⋆ ⋆ ─ while out in public, yelena was always touching you. weather it was holding hands, her arm looped around you or her palm tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. you were no better, purposely finding a seat on her lap whenever it seemed appropriate for you.

⋆ ⋆ ─ nor you or yelena cared what others or even the team thought of the nature of your relationship. you paid no mind to their jests or sarcastic comments. she would only tolerate so much of it, cutting them short with her own attitude when you began to grow upset by the teasing.

⋆ ⋆ ─ of course yelena kew her obsessive dynamic wasn’t a healthy one. you were your own person. you had your own opinions and your own free will. yelena spent her most of her whole life having none of that. the fact that you willingly surrendered it to her was what she craved.

⋆ ⋆ ─ to be continued…

2:00 PM

You had been practically drowning in paperwork for weeks. Days filled with the endless streams of words and numbers on a screen, phone calls and minor mental breakdowns. Just when thought you were ready to start on this set of files you had been putting off. You noticed something about the charts. Or lack there off.

With all your extra work, you had completely forgotten about your earlier memos, which had clearly gone unnoticed. It’s not like you fully expected them to be received, the Emergency Department is always busy with something new. And with all your work piling up, you were really not as on to of things as you should have been.

The filing deadline was fast approaching and it was already after lunch. Your only reasonable option now was that you had to make a personal visit downstairs and search for the assigned physician yourself. You had not been lucky enough to meet her face to face yet, but you have heard of the reputation of Doctor Santos. Tricky and abrasive, with a confident personality of the biggest dick in the locker room. Despite the rumors her overall patient satisfaction has all been mostly positive from what you had seen.

When you finally slipped through the doors of the Emergency Department, and made a beelline for the most trusted face in the room.

“Knew I heard those fearsome finance footsteps, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Dana greeted you as she continued to read the tablet in front of her.

“C’mon Dana, if she swam all the way downstream…What we really should be asking is who is the next victim?” Doctor Langdon added.

“Well unfortunately it’s not you.” You flashed him a sickening customer service smile. He gave you a playful middle finger, inconspicuously hidden close to the top of the desk.

“And actually, I’m looking for Doctor Santos.” You turned to Dana and offered her a real smile, knowing she would help you out.

Doctor Langdon didn’t bother to hold in his cheerful laughter.

“This day keeps getting better.” He smiled brightly to Dana before pushing off the desk. “I hope you have a field day with Doctor Santos.”

Your eyebrows crunched in confusion, staying silent and allowing Doctor Langdon to go return to his patients.

“Good Lord,” she sighed as she watched him walk away. “Santos is in with a peds burn in North 2.” Dana answered.

Your eyes floated around the stream of curtains and empty medical beds before returning to her with a puzzled look.

“That one.” She pointed with a laugh.

“Thank you.”

You waited idly by the curtains Dana pointed to, shifting your weight on your feet to ease your idle jitters. Each minute wasted down here had you only visualizing your work upstairs backing up higher and higher your plate. After seven agonizing minutes Doctor Santos had finished talking with the family inside about care instructions for the wound and exited the bay.

“Doctor Santos,” you grabbed her attention. She turned to you with a puzzled look, eyes turning to read your hospital badge. You introduced yourself regardless before you began to explain your visit.

“I’ve sent a few reminders about charts all addressed to you this past week and I don’t want to believe that all five were unseen or accidentally lost, but I know it could be possible-”

She cut you off with a snort. “So you’re the Piranha?” She asked completely disregarding what you had just stated.

“I have a name.”

“Piranha.” She stated like you were hadn’t just shared your actual name with her.

You blinked twice, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“I need your charts submitted by 4PM.” You snipped.

Someone from across the room shouted for Doctor Santos’ help. She began walking in that direction, leaving you to frustratingly follow her steps.

“I’ll be sure to put it at the very top of my to-do list.”

You sighed quietly, not wanting to give too much attitude with your next statement. Your words came out softer, less bite to the words. They came out scripted and bored.

“If I do not receive them today, I will be reaching out to the attendings to see how we can fix this issue going forward.”

Her steps halted.

“Wow…” She said slowly, expression souring. “tough crowd.”

“By 4PM, please, Doctor Santos.” You give her a customer service smile.

“Yes, Miss Piranha, ma’am.” She gave you a salute with a playful smile.

“Thank you.” You quickly shuffled your way out of the Emergency Department, not exactly privy to witnessing some gruesome scene on accident.

4:00 PM

Nothing.

And thirty minutes later… Still no updated forms have been submitted by Doctor Santos.

As if you didn’t have an enough work to finish up, you spared the time to go back down to the Emergency Department. This time your steps were fast and pointed, irritation clearly oozing from you like a gloomy toxic cloud.

“Uh oh.” Dana’s voice echoed as you bypassed the desk completely.

“Watch out.” Another voice echoed.

“Doctor Santos!” You caught up to her.

“Little Miss Piranha.” She greeted, not slowing down her pace. You ignored the name and kept up with her steps.

“It’s past 4PM.”

“Sorry, I’ve been kind of busy.” She floated her hands around the bustling room.

You waited only a moment to steep in your irritation before continuing to speak.

“I understand that you’re kind of busy, and I kind of have deadlines to maintain in order to not compromise patient’s care based on an easily avoidable financial hiccup with an insurance claim. All because their physician was too busy to give them the time.” You sighed dramatically.

“Or maybe somewhere in your eight years of higher education you never learned how to time manage as well as you thought.”

“Wow. Ouch,” She stopped to turn and face you now that she was at her station. “Has anyone told you that you’re kind of a bitch.”

“All the time.” You nodded, peachy expression still in tact.

You were constantly being berated by unhappy patients and families, always working with patient advocacy. You had grown very thick skin.

“And for your information, I do know how to manage my time.” Doctor Santos informed.

“I just wanted an excuse to get you back down here.” She admitted with a small smile. Your irritation spiked, the poised expression on your face cracking with a flash of disdain.

“You wasted more of my time on purpose?”

“Only a waste of time if you choose to see it that way.” She shrugged.

“Is that not what I just said?” Your eyes darted down to your watch. “It’s taken me six minutes to get down here- six minutes back up, that’s almost a quarter of an hour alone on travel time gone.”

“Okay well, your line of thinking is kind of a nightmare.” She pointed out with a look of surprised disbelief.

“Noted. Why are you holding me hostage Doctor Santos? Have you updated the charts?”

“Oh yeah!” She pulled them up on her screen.

“So, submit them?” You gaped.

“First.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“You have to agree to have drinks with me after work.”

Your entire system seemed to malfunction. Thoughts shut off as you read her expression for any evidence of a jest or mockery. She looked like she hesitated for just a moment, but didn’t back down.

“… Unless you don’t drink. I’m sure we could figure something else out.”

You cleared your throat.

“That is very forward of you, Doctor Santos.”

“Trinity; and is that a no?”

“No...” You hummed in thought, trying to regain control of the situation. “but if you submit your charts you can ask me again later. When my brain stops feeling like it’s going to start melting out of from my eyes.”

Trinity clicked the submission button where her mouse had been hovering without another thought.

“Deal.”

7:00 PM

You could even feel your own anger bouncing off the walls of the elevator as it traveled back down to the ground floor. You were out of the doors before they had even fully opened and began your very direct walk to the Emergency Department for the third time today. Ahmad just so happened to be at the doors, immediately clocking the energy and opening the door for you.

“Everybody look out!” Robby chuckled lowly as he watched your speedy steps travel into the Pitt.

“Piranhas in the water!” Doctor Langdon announced.

Boo! It’s the evil billing department again! You didn’t mind the pointed attitude you received, Someone has to do the job. Surgeons did the real cutting, but nothing really cut quite as deep as the final bill.

Only today the stupid nickname irked you even more. By now, you were well into overtime for the umpteenth day in a row and your eyes felt like cotton balls from staring at your screen for so long, blue light glasses be damned. The look on your face could only be described as something resembling homicidal.

You took the direct path you remembered that lead to Doctor Santos’ station, hoping to see her colleague and roommate hovering somewhere nearby.

“Look who it is,” doctor Santos greeted as you approached. “I really hope that unhappy face isn’t for me.”

“No, I’m not here for you, Doctor Santos.” You gave her a small strained smile with what grace you could find.

“Trinity.” She corrected again. You sighed lightly.

“I’m here looking for Doctor Whittaker.”

Her face pulled into a grin. “Fuckleberry?”

Hearing the explicite version of the rumored nickname out loud almost made you laugh.

Like she was a saint performing a miracle, Doctor Whittaker appeared from somewhere behind her. Your unsuspecting victim politely greeted you as he approached.

“Santos, still not up to date on your charts?” He asked while laughing.

“Honey, no.” Santos gave him a very sarcastic pout, sadistic glint in her eyes.

“Doctor Whittaker, I’m here for you.” You turned back to Doctor Whittaker. His face paled, like he was next up on the execution stage.

“Me?” He looked panicked. “I’m all up to date.”

You gave him a sad smile, handing him a thin folder of printed copies of charts.

“Entirely illegible.”

Doctor Santos continued to wear a smug grin, chucking behind her closed lips.

“I can’t file shit if I can’t read shit.” You explained, voice fatigued. “Punctuation is not suggested. It is mandatory.”

Trinity began to laugh.

“Nice job Fuckleberry! How bad is it?”

“Could be a NASA equation for all I know- I’m not the doctor. I need your revised version in my inbox by yesterday.”

“Yes, sorry, sorry! I-I’m on it!”

“On it, in it, over it. I’ll be here late.” You informed him. “I do expect a call when you update everything.”

“Absolutely, yes sir- ma’am- miss.” He coughed and sputtered over the words.

“Thank you.” You sighed in relief, like feeling a large weight fall off your shoulders.

“I’ll see you later, Trinity.” You offered her a softer smile before turning on your heel and heading back upstairs.

Only when you had turned the corner to exit the Emergency Department did Dennis release the tension from his body.

“What the hell was that?” He asked his roommate.

“What was what?” She kept her eyes glued onto her computer.

“That?”

“Wow,” she extended the vowel, “I can see how your notes were so illegible.” She dodged the question.

“She was totally being flirty with you.”

Trinity pretended she didn’t notice.

“Was she?” Trinity was up and out of her seat before he could say anything else about it.

Dennis might have been right, but for all she knows, he’d do something to jinx it. She just needed to finish out her shift and hope that you’ve completed enough of your own work to agree to go out.

Trinity couldn’t help the grin that spread onto her lips as she smiled at the floor. Already feeling the massive ego boost that she’d gain if she somehow managed to bag the most evil bitch in the building.

10:00 PM

The sun had long set and your paperwork seemed under control for the most part. After a sudden firing and an already planned paternity leave of your colleagues had left you and what remained of the department scrambling to keep up. A knock on your office door had you pulling your head away from your digital work calendar.

You had expected to see Doctor Whittaker, but instead Trinity stood at the door. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, clearly on her way out.

“You’re still here.” She pointed out.

“That I am.” You rubbed at your eyes tiredly.

“Huckleberry fixed his charts.” She raised her right hand. “I even double checked it myself before he submitted, 100% legible- scouts honor.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief, posture relaxing.

“Thank you, so much.”

You quickly busied yourself with double checking the submissions from Doctor Whittaker, ensuring that it gets filed out tomorrow after all the effort you went through to get it today.

“Do Piranhas sleep or?”

“I don’t want to still be here.” You groaned. “I’m salaried anyways, the overtime means nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” Her words surprised you.

“Hm?”

“Dana told me how much work you’ve been putting in this quarter.” She explained. “Almost a one woman show up here.”

There were more empty offices than those occupied on your floor.

“Nina’s been a big help.” You shrugged. You couldn’t take all the credit. “And I don’t mean to be a bitch, I swear.” You laughed.

“This job takes a backbone- I can’t bend rules and deadlines for everyone. And tripling the work doesn’t exactly help.” You sighed. “You get it- Doctoring is hard.”

“I do.” She nodded with a chuckle. “If it’s worth anything I find the bitchiness endearing.”

“That’s sweet.” You giggled, the foreign sound was infectious spreading to Trinity.

“I do believe you still owe me an answer to my question. That is if your eyeballs are still in tact.”

Your head finally dropped, shoulders shaking as you fully laughed and began shutting down your computer. Trinity watched you pack up your bag that was tucked under your desk and pull out your set of matching food storage from the mini fridge to the side. She made a mental note of it because she fully expected to take advantage of it during your work days if this date went well.

“If I’m saying yes, you have to find me a better nickname than a fish.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda cute.” she plucked your lunch bag off the table, leaving you to worry about your purse and work bag.

HAPPY PRIDE 🏳️‍🌈 my goal is to post as much gay shit as i cam this month. first pitt fic,,, i have a few drafted trinity fics that might see the light of day if i’m confident enough ♡ bones

The subway was crowded. You could see the backup from the turnstiles all the from the top of the steps. While you were busy distracted with the group of people, Yelena began pulling you in the direction of the escalator.

“Hey!” Your voice grabbed her attention. “Do you know when I was on the subway last?” You asked.

Yelena halted in thought when she realized there was no follow up statement and you were genuinely asking Yelena this because you didn’t know the answer.

While she was scrambling for a response, she was painfully reminded of your very weird relationship. Yelena also had no idea the last time you had been on a subway. There was still so much about you that she really didn’t know. She regretted her adversity to learn even a shred of real detail about you. She knew the basics- your relevant professional history, your fighting capabilities, preferred food choices when you grumbled at meals. Your favorite color? Favorite type of music? Favorite food? Hopes? Fears? Dreams? All things she had previously never bothered to know. And the one she regretted the most- your relationship with Natasha. You spent years by her side. There were so many of your memories of her sister full of things that she could have learned through you if she had maybe given herself a chance to know you- now all gone for the foreseeable future.

“I don’t know.” Yelena finally blurted. “I’m sorry.”

When she felt herself spiral further when you shrugged off her answer while nonchalantly taking in the different advertisements and artwork lining the walls. Yelena hated how normal that was for you. Living in this constant state of unknowing confusion. In your current state of mind, it did make her feel better that you trusted her so much to be your guide today in the world that you had forgotten about.

“I think I liked the subway.” You suddenly said.

Yelena had an idea.

“Do you have your wallet?” She asked.

“Yeah?” Your eyebrows furrowed at her question, but still, you fished for the item and presented it to Yelena like a gift.

She opened it and sifted through your cards, eventually pulling out a moderately worn out metro card.

“I think you like the subway enough.” She surmised from the wear and tear.

You shrugged again, instead your attention falling on a receipt in a pocket. Your eyes brightening in curiosity- excited to see what you had done recently.

It was a receipt for a cafe. Your eyes skimmed the type printed on the narrow transfer paper successfully locating the date of the transaction. It was fairly recent- maybe only a week or two before that last mission. Order number 417, taken by a Michelle. The contents of the order looked like something you would probably get for yourself based on the coffees that Yelena had been making for you each morning.

“Hey! Maybe we could stop here before we go see the dogs.” You proposed with hope while lowly waving the paper in your free hand.

“It’s your day out.” Yelena reminded. “We can do whatever you like… within reason.”

Your face broke into a grin, already planning to get whatever what listed on the receipt in some lame attempt to magically fix your brain.

“Watch your step.” Yelena grabbed for your free hand that was not occupied with the receipt and pulled you over the bottom lip of the escalator.

You stumbled lightly when your bad knee buckled from the sudden turn. You tightened your grip on the hand Yelena had guided you with, now becoming the one thing preventing you from hitting the hard flooring.

The crowd of people kept bustling around you, receiving no curtesy to your unknown disadvantage. You didn’t fall though, Yelena tugged you out of the surge of people allowing you to clamber against her side for balance when you stumbled free. You were close enough to smell her warm scented perfume that clung to her. The cafe receipt crumpled slightly in your hand as you grabbed onto her jacket.

Yelena had only slowed her pace down to a brief stop while you regained your footing. Only when she was sure you were still stable before she continued to walk, hand still holding onto yours. They stayed tightly linked as you waited in the busy crowd for your turn to use your card.

Yelena seemed unfazed by your joined hands. Instead she stood calmly, eyes scanning over the crowd like a security guard. Meanwhile you stood stiffly and tried to control your nerves. You were growing painfully aware of how sweaty your hands had grown, but she seemed blissfully unaware. Or at least unphased.

Once you had finally gotten through the turnstile and boarded your subway car did Yelena part her hand from yours, but your embarrassment was far from over. She had tugged you into the back corner of the car seating you somewhere against the wall where she could stand in front of your legs and almost block your entire body from view of other passengers.

The position was precarious, your face reaching the height of Yelena’s waist, but once again she didn’t seem phased at all.

“You don’t want to sit?” You asked, neck craned up to her. “We’re getting off at Atlantic…”

“I am fine,” she shrugged, chin turning down to look at you properly. “but if I may ask, where are we going?”

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Have you ever been to Coney Island?”

Yelena blinked in thought.

“I have not.” She answered while observing your thoughtful expression.

“Is that where you’re taking us?”

You offered a shy smile.

“Maybe….”

“Alrighty then.” Yelena shrugged.

You paused cautiously gauging the tone of Yelena’s reaction, almost as if you were bracing for her rejection. Maybe it was nothing or maybe it was muscle memory of what your relationship had looked like before your accident.

“You don’t think visiting Bucky’s old stomping grounds sounds like a stupid idea?” You asked her in a low tone. You wanted to clarify, still fully expecting to be shut down.

“It really might just be the last place he would think to look.”

The smile on your face was irreplaceable.

“BUT- I’m placing down some rules. No running, or jumping, or riding the rides. I will not be returning you broken.” She listed off activities like she had when you talked about walking the dogs.

“Heard. Absolutely, totally understand.” You agreed, more excited that she was on board.

You could barely contain your excitement the rest of the ride. Yelena never moved from her spot in front of you, it was only halfway through the ride did you realize she was standing there to block your injured knee from other passengers...

⋆ ⋆ ─

The abandoned service station smelt like dirt and old oil. Depending on what direction you faced when you moved, you got a whiff of some sort of animal that had been long dead.

Bucky had instructed his captives to sit in the pit of a broken car lift while we waited for his evac. You didn’t blame them for deciding that running from the pair of you would not be worth it. A former Avenger and the former Winter Soldier. Bucky could handle the two super soldiers and the assassin, but you were confident you could figure out how to take down the Ghost if you had the chance.

You found yourself a seat on one of the worn out metal stools. You had chose one out of the four that looked the least destroyed. The red vinyl seat was faded and taped up. Long unused hardware creaked when you spun yourself in a disinterested circle. You weren’t really paying attention to whatever Bucky was talking about. You were irritated. Tired from being pulled from your slumber abruptly, tired of the headache that Bucky’s motorcycle seemed to give you and on top of it all- in the middle of nowhere with a less than savory cast of characters.

You leaned your elbow on the dusty work desk, eyes drooping closed. Maybe you could sleep through his little speech until it was time to go…

“Sorry, I have to ask… Have all of the Avengers gone into politics?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes cracking back open to see Yelena Belova staring at you from where Bucky had restrained them all. You had almost wanted to giggle at the fact that she was the only one restrained with a rope. No rebar, no fancy electric current to keep her in place. Just a little rope.

You could bet that she could actually find her way out of it if she really tried, but you chose to have faith in Bucky’s ability to tie a knot.

“She’s my backup.”

“I’m his hostage.” You started speaking over him in a flat tone. He gave you a disappointed look.

“Ahhh.” You faked a scream.

The group stared at you in an almost ambarassing silence until the Red Guardian began to laugh loudly.

“Hostage!” He shouted, body lulling forward in his restraint. “That is funny!” He laughed. The cackling echoed off the wall of the old car shop.

“Oh my god.” Yelena groaned.

“Because you can stop hearts! AND- AND blast the planes out of sky!” He was wheezing.

Your jaw parted in awkwardness, eyes shifting to Bucky who wore an exasperated expression.

“No, I am not a part of his congressional staff.” You gave Yelena her answer.

She looked unconvinced.

“You are now.” Bucky suddenly informed.

“The fuck I am!” Your seat creaked loudly as you turned your body to him.

“Your word still means a lot on Capitol Hill. You know that.“

“My word?” You echoed in disbelief. “That is the biggest load of-”

“You’ve got your own set of loyalists, trust me.”

It was Yelena laughing now. You did have some powerful people left that trusted you, but to call them loyalists was one thing. While helping with his online social media presence, you had quietly used your political sway to help Bucky’s campaign. Being one of the last original Avengers currently physically still on the Earth held some weight to it.

“Of course the Avengers have government officials in their pockets.” Yelena said like it was a matter of fact.

“I’m just a likable person, that does not mean I have anybody in my pockets!” You almost shouted.

You felt a flicker of electricity jump through your fingertips as you clenched your fists. You didn’t mean to snap, but the raise of her eyebrows mid sentence had made you angry. The last time you really got personally involved in politics, you ended up a prisoner on the Raft. Not that you regretted most of the decisions you made back then, but sticking your nose into these issues was not something you wanted back into.

Yelena made a pointed hum of disbelief. You scoffed.

“I think my hostage should maybe take a walk.” Bucky suggested.

“And I think I should be asleep in my bed, but apparently we can’t all get what we want today.”

Bucky’s arms crossed, feet shuffling to face you fully. The intimidation you felt had your spine straightening in your seat, lips pinching into a line.

The room grew a little brighter

“I think that’s enough.” You heard John Walker speak up for the first time. You almost felt your eye twitch at his words.

“Nobody was talking to you.” You snipped.

“Knock it off.” Bucky placed his hand up.

The sound of a low ringing began in your ear.

“-Mister soldier, you are making terrible mistake!” The Red Guardian tried to plead.

“Save it for the committee.” Bucky said flatly.

“What committee?” Yelena asked him carefully.

“All of you are evidence in the impeachment against Valentina.” He informed. The Ghost and John Walker began laughing- Yelena signed.

“We don't even work for Valentina anymore,” Ghost tried explaining, her tone bored. “she tried to kill us.”

“We were ordered to destroy all of her secrets.” John Walker began, “but really, we were just sent to kill each other in this vault.”

The ringing grew louder, audible barely above a vibration of a cellphone. The daylight outside of the dirty garage door grew brighter.

“But then we met Bob.” Yelena added.

“Yeah, Bob.” John echoed.

You released a muffled bark of laughter.

“There was a man in the vault.” Yelena spoke carefully. Her tone had you more curious of this Bob. “She's done something to him. It's called Project Sentry.” She continued.

“He shot up into the sky, he exploded and then crashed into this mountain,” Ghost explained further, “and then he died, didn't die-”

“So, you met a mgical man in an underground vault named Bob?” You echoed back sarcastically. Yelena and John grumbled about your attitude while Bucky shifted his gaze to you like he wanted to laugh along, but was trying to remain collected. The growing brightness behind him made it hard to read his expression.

“Sounds pretty special to me… Does he have laser vision too?” You asked. Clearly they all were unaware they had been describing a Superman comic.

“Yes, we got it. He's very, very scary.” Bucky cut your train of thought off.

“Okay… “ The ringing was almost as loud as the low tone of John Walker’s voice as he spoke. “Congressman Barnes.” The light started to bleach out your vision.

When your vision cleared back up, Yelena was not tied up ten feet away. She was sat beside you, one hand holding your wrist on your pulse point. There was a constant pain throbbing at the front of your brain.

“Do not do that ever again.” Yelena stated sternly.

You continued to blink rapidly, body lulling forward, only stopped by her hand gripping the back of your sweatshirt tightly. You pulled yourself back up unsteadily.

“Do what?” You asked almost automatically, eyes carting around your unfamiliar surroundings. A lamp post… a brightly painted trashcan… food stands… people walking...

“Where are we?” You asked another question, more important to you than waiting for an answer for the first. You didn’t know where you were. This was not where you last remembered being, at least that is what you think you thought. In fact, you couldn’t remember where that was.

Yelena blinked at you, eyebrows relaxed, lips parted slightly- you couldn’t quite read the expression, but she looked stressed.

“Coney Island.” She answered slowly. The sounds of echoed music began to register, people and children talking, laughing or some screaming.

“Why?”

“You wanted to.” She continued, tone of voice still in the same low range. You nodded slowly, mindful of the pain in your skull. You were sat on the ground beside a row of plant boxes and a metal fence.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, heavy hands reaching up to rub at your eyes. Yelena pulled the hat from your head, giving you more space to wake yourself up.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“We were in Utah.” You mumbled out. Yelena didn’t say anything immediately, you counted three breaths in before she did speak.

“Utah?”

You nodded again.

Yelena watched your expression shift as you began to wake up more from your episode.

“In that stupid gas station..” You continued, pausing before you spoke again.

“It smelt so bad.” Your voice was almost choked with tears with the admission.

“It did.” She agreed, but didn’t dare move a muscle from where she was sat.

That gas station was your first official meeting face to face. Yelena had stalked you when she learned you had relocated back to the East Coast to lobby for Bucky’s campaign. She ever dared approach you then, instead she built herself a false persona of you that she knew she could hate.

Afraid of the sudden possible confrontation of whatever you may have remembered of that day, she changed the subject.

“Maybe we should head back...”

You shook your head this time.

“No, I’m fine.” You reassured her. “I got it… museum, lunch… here?”

You seemed to be trying to put the day together. She nodded, still unconvinced.

“I’m fine. I just need a minute to… reset.”

Yelena watched your breathing return to a slow pace while the slight sway of your upper body had had stilled. The backs of your hands reached up to your forehead, patting at the sweaty skin before scratching at your scalp. Your posture straightened up with a sigh. She didn’t want to force you back to the tower, but she didn’t want your condition to continue to worsen.

“I really think we should go back.” Yelena tried again.

Your head snapped over to look at her, expression stern.

“I said no.” The bite of your tone was enough to make Yelena back off. It resembled the type of attitude that she was used to hearing from you. Yelena had feared for a moment that your memory had all came back at once, but she doubted you’d ever be so cordial.

Yelena decided to buy you a bottle of water from the stand that was still within her sight. She excused herself to allow you a moment to decompress by yourself. Hoping that it may be enough to bring you back down. When she returned to you with the overly expensive water, you had shifted positions. Back to the fence, one leg outstretched with the other crossed and tucked under your bed knee.

Yelena sat down beside you along the fence and you thanked her for the water when she handed it off to you. She watched you uncap the bottle and take a few greedy gulps of cool liquid. When you had emptied half the bottle, you stretched your arms out. Yelena could clearly hear the series of small pops and cracks from your joints from years of physical wear and tear.

“We still have to walk the dogs.” You sighed, eyes trained on the grass. Yelena wanted to laugh.

“And don’t you dare tell me no.” You followed quickly. “I deserve to see dogs.”

This time Yelena did laugh, “You’ve made your point, no going home yet.”

She could tell you were more alert now. Your expressions were deeper, eyes no longer glassed over.

“Did we ride the Farris wheel?” You asked her another question.

“I said no to rides.”

“It’s barely a ride!”

“It’s 40 meters tall.”

“Even if it’s the only thing I want to do?” You begged, “I swear we can leave after… Please?”

Yelena looked back over to the large rotating carnival ride. You both had agreed on the rules of no rides, or anything that would bring you more injury, but if riding the Ferris Wheel means that it would eliminate you from taking more unnecessary steps around the boardwalk...

Your lower lip was pouted outwards, eyes wide and peeking over to Yelena. She wanted to argue. You had never looked at her like that before and the soft expression on your face was wearing Yelena’s resolve down. She now wondered if her sister had been able to build the resolve to ignore the heartbreaking expression and tell you no. Yelena looked over at the large colorful structure and released a defeated sigh.

“Alright, you win.”

hi divas! i feel like i owe you all some sort of explanation of my sporadic absences but my health has not been the best place so things are weird. life is hard but we truck on. happy pride!! 🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍⚧️ ♡ bones

⋆ ⋆ ─ thank you so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed my work, likes comments & reblogs are very greatly appreciated and super motivational ♡ ♡ ♡

and on the final day she has risen. bones’ hiatus over hi everyone. happy lesbian visibility week divas! ♡♡♡

“There is a place.” You admitted. “But I’m not really sure what it was called.”

When prompted for a lunch spot, unlike most questions asked before, your brain immediately supplied you with an answer- sort of.

You could recall the interior of the restaurant vaguely. Calm lighting, decorated walls, booths, tables and the small bar next to the cash register. When you tried to pick out specifics, like the color of the walls or the type of flooring, the thoughts fell apart.

You could vaguely remember there being some story about how the owners opened the restaurant on their honeymoon and loving New York so much that they decided to never return to their hometown. All their recipes handed down through their own families and perfected over the years, giving their food and the atmosphere a calming personal touch.

Most importantly you remembered being there often with your colleges from S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Do you know where it was?” Kate pulled out her phone. “Or what kind of food? I’m sure we can figure out- if it’s still there.”

She shuffled closer to you, standing shoulder to shoulder as she offered the device opened to a map screen.

Yelena watched the display, feeling a small wave of distasteful envy. To fill the time she awkwardly straightened up and surveyed the surrounding crowd while Kate helped you narrow down the restaurant. The last thing she wanted was a stray photo of the allusive avenger uploaded to the internet. Yelena had already seen some posts of your public absence, if you ended up trending it could unravel their entire day. So far you seemed to draw no attention.

“I think we got it.” Kate announced, pulling her attention back.

It was not much farther than a 30 minute journey, somewhere small tucked discreetly between the imposing buildings of New York. The outside was just as you remembered

Thankfully it was not a rush time and restaurant was nearly empty except for a group of elderly people sat in the front towards the window. You felt nervous about being seated in one spot in a busy location and Yelena had been in guard dog mode since the moment you left The Watchtower, you wanted to have a small break.

You were seated by the young hostess by a the rear of the dining room. Yelena sat herself across from Kate, subtly guiding you into the seat next to herself. She instructed you to outstretch your leg and rest your injury from your prior bout of walking.

“It feels fine.” You insisted quietly, pushing the ache to the back of your mind and reaching for a menu. You were curious- hoping it hadn’t changed much, but you mainly wanted to deflect her attention away from you.

The menu filled you with the same sense of dejavú as you skimmed down all the options. It looked completely different from what you remembered, but most of the options you did recognize. As you eyes read through your gave lingered back up on a familiar dish you suddenly recognized as Natasha’s favorite.

Yelena blinked, doubtful gaze searing into the side of your head as you read the menu. She didn’t believe your words, having witnessed your remaining limp grow just a little heavier with every step you had taken today. When Yelena realized that you weren’t even reading the words on the page, she reached over to your knee from under the table with the speed and delicacy of a trained assassin.

Her light touch felt like a sharp punch to your swollen joint causing you to jolt in your seat and draw in a quick breath. Your flesh felt warmer to the touch than what seemed normal, increased inflammation clearly evident.

“Stop that!” You whispered.

“You are such a liar.” She chided with a laugh.

“I said I’m fine.” You doubled down.

“And I’m Captain America.” Yelena mocked you with heavy sarcasm.

“You should have said something.” Kate added with a concerned frown. You opened your mouth to protest, but was bested by the sudden appearance of your waitress as she began introducing herself.

She couldn’t have been older than 20 at most, dewy complexion, hair braided and tucked away from her face. After taking your orders for your drinks Yelena asked her for a bag of ice, intent on having you ice your knee while you sat. She nodded and hurried to the back of the house, disappearing behind the double doors.

When she turned with the ice she broke into an excited smile beyond that of customer service.

“I’m sorry, I had to be sure it was you at first.” She rushed out sheepishly as she directed her attention to you. Your eyebrows raised. “It’s been, like, years, and I was only a kid, but my parents own the restaurant. My sister was you guys’ favorite server.”

Your eyes squinted lightly as you studied her face, your lips parted in concentration as you could only imagine a vague image of their daughter, certainly not the young adult woman in front of you. As for the favorite server bit- that was lost to you. Amnesia aside, you were almost sure that she was probably Natasha’s favorite server.

“Don’t take her reaction as negative.” Yelena spoke up for your long silence. “She hit her head. Memory issues.“

“Oh my god.” The waitress clutched her tray turning to you in shock, parting her lips to give you a bout of sympathy.

“This is confidential information by the way.” Yelena added on, you jumped in before she could lay down some unfounded threat.

“It’s not that bad,” you gave Yelena a glare. “We’re figuring it out. But it would also be so great if you could tell no one that you saw us here."

"Of course." The waitress nodded, mild confusion flickering across her features.

You awkwardly deflected the conversation back to the menus, each of you placing your order before she returned with your drinks.

You had taken two sips from your drink before the back doors were opening again. This time you did recognize the excited older woman shuffling towards you. Her name was lost somewhere in your memories, but her face was easy to place. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as she began gently shouting your first name.

“Where have you been?” She wailed dramatically.

Habitually, you wanted to stand to greet her, but Yelena yanked you back into place. The unnamed woman pushed you down softly, instead bending to give you a hug. When she pulled back her hands cradled your head, tilting downwards to get a look at the healing wound on your hairline.

She cursed, “You superhero’s and your invincibility.”

“Stupidity, more like it.” She turned her attention to Yelena and Kate.

“Such nice girls. Do not follow her bad example.”

Your wanted to laugh, at the irony. From what you knew about Kate she was selfless and almost seemed eager to walk into danger. And you also knew Yelena once almost blew herself up. This poor woman was preaching to the wrong choir. You informed her that they were coworkers of sorts, which earned them both a separate safety warning.

“Before you leave, we take a new photo.” Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

“We keep special pictures up on the wall.” The older woman pointed towards the area of their POS system where you could see a collection of photo frames, news articles and resturant certifications.

You felt heated embarrassment crawl under your skin up to your cheeks. You thought about the endless possibilities of the unknown photo. Who was in it? Was it a selfie? What were you wearing? How long ago was the photo? Were you even sober?

Yelena cooed in excitement, finding joy in your bashful expressions.

“I need to see.” She insisted, you began protesting quietly with colorful expressions to her. You tired to shut it down, but your words were talked over.

“I also would like to see.” Kate sheepishly added in.

Your shoulders dropped, feeling a wave of displaced shame fill your chest. Your thoughts raced as you tried to figure out the photo in question, possible images of times you had been here before surfacing in your mind, but ultimately coming up blank.

She rushed away, plucking a frame from the wall and retuning with it. She turned it around, bypassing you and handing the frame to Yelena. You peeked over, Kate leaned over the table to get a look as well.

The photo was from New Year’s Eve. You wore a bright and tacky glittered hat, the new year plastered across the front in large lettering. Also pictured was Natasha, Clint, Steve, Maria, with Tony and Pepper tucked the front of the frame next to the two restaurant owners.

“That is quite the hat.” Yelena broke the brief moment of silence.

Yelena looked up, “Do you have a copy machine?”

“No-” She nodded despite your protest.

“We would love a copy of this.”

"Of course!" The waitress gushed before disappearing with the photo. You watched her hastily retreat to the small back hallway.

“Is that necessary?” You squeaked, very focused on Yelena not having an embarrassing photo of your first New Years Eve legally drunk. Yelena waited a few moments before calmly replying to you.

“Are you proposing I not have of a photo of my deceased sister?”

You blinked once, thoughts finally aligning. She was right- your own embarrassment was not important here. “… No.”

The uncomfortable conversation was broken off by the young waitress returning with the tray of food. Humiliation forgotten now by the familiar smell of your favorite dish.

“How old is she now? Like nine?” Natasha tossed a playful look to Clint watching as you choked on your bite of food.

She ignored your outburst and continued, “Why does fury have her out here again? I’m sure that this must a breech in some child labor laws.”

You now shrieked from your seat, mouth still stuffed full of food. Talking about you like you weren’t sitting right there was one thing, but the age jab was a massive blow to your fragile adolescent ego.

“I’m SEVENTEEN!” You defended yourself while you struggled to swallow.

“That high into double digits?” Her eyebrows raised. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You were AT my birthday party! And like ALL of my pervious birthday parties.”

A look of emphasized confusion pulled onto Natasha’s face, head tipping sideways as she pretended to think hard.

Your jaw dropped, “Are you being for real?”

“I just… do not recall.” Natasha pretended to shrug in defeat. You shifted gears, scoffing loudly.

“What happened? Sudden onset amnesia?” You joked. “Dementia?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed at the minor age jab. “Don’t you still have training wheels?” She asked, changing the topic back to insult you.

“I don’t have a bike.” You smugly shrugged it off.

“Floaties?”

“Clint!” You complained. “She’s doing this on purpose!”

“Doing what?” Natasha innocently shrugged before returning to her own plate of food.

Clint looked nervous as he eyed you both. For a moment he felt like he was back at home with Laura and his own arguing toddlers. After sharing a look with his partner, a cheeky grin spread onto his face.

“That’s… Senior Agent Barton to you, Trainee.” A moment of silence passed as your mind processed his betrayal.

“Wha-?” You let out a new boastful noise that gained a few looks from the surrounding patrons. You sputtered, angry and unable to articulate your frustration. “You’re just mad because you’re old!” You aggressively stabbed at your food.

“…Old?” Natasha parroted in a dangerously monotone voice.

“Old.” You repeated slowly.

“Uh- do you want me to come back?” The waitress interrupted the conversation.

“Ignore her.” Natasha smiled.

“I am so sorry.” Clint gave her an embarrassed smile reaching for the check as the waitress sized up the group.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m just reminding my SENIOR agents that they’re old.” You shrugged.

“Did she forget I’m paying?” Clint muttered under his breath as he took the check from the young woman standing at the end of the booth. Natasha shrugged, already assuming he was paying for her too.

"Your food is going to go cold." Yelena's voice broke through the ringing in your ears.

You nodded, "right."

You tired to act normal while taking your discarded utensils back into your grip and return your attention to your food. pretend like they both were not just watching you stare off into oblivion for a few minutes.

You enjoyed the rest of your meals in a calmer atmosphere and no more interruptions. Kate had asked you a slew of prepared questions about your time as an Avenger, almost entirely ignoring Yelena's warning about possibly overloading you. You did your best to answer what you could with what you knew. Kate listened eagerly, even typing some things into the pages of her phone’s notes app.

Towards the end of the conversation she admitted she chose her career paths after watching Clint Barton. You had been curious about her relationship with your former mentor. Kate was bright eyed, accompanied contagiously easygoing happy personality. When put into contrast with your own you couldn’t help but feel almost inferior, despite your own accomplishments as a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent or an Avenger.

When the waitress returned with your check, she had a small bundle of paper, the photocopies, tucked beneath the ticket book. Yelena paid in cash and before leaving you all quickly took a few new photos with the owner, as she requested. She bid you a cheerful goodbye, handing you a gift certificate with a request you come back after you properly healed.

Once back on the streets, you turned to Yelena expression expectant for her to announce your next destination.

“I actually have to head back to my apartment and walk the dogs.” Kate peeked at the time on her phone.

“You have dogs?” You perked up to the new information. Your excitement caused you to miss the way Kate had eyed Yelena.

“I have a dog, Lucky-”

“Kate has also been watching my dog.”

“You have a dog?” You gaped, turning your attention back to Yelena.

“Yes, I have a dog.” She nodded, opting to not bring up that you knew this information prior to your accident. Before this you had still never seen Fanny yourself, only knowing that the dog existed and was being looked after by a friend.

“Well, they’ll probably need another walk later and I’ve got a meeting. So maybe before you guys head back you could…” Kate openly suggested, dangling the opportunity to Yelena.

Her stomach flipped at the improvised question. She quickly recovered from her panic when she looked to your hopeful expression.

“Can we?” You pleaded.

“I don’t see why not.” Yelena shrugged, “but I forbid you from holding leash.” She added, the last thing she needed was a dog pulling you unexpectedly and causing any strain to re-injure your knee or crack your head on the sidewalk.

“I promise!” You swore, placing your hand over your heart.

“Amazing.” Kate grinned. “It’s a date.” Yelena was thrown sideways by the seemingly harmless phrase, still caught up on your gleeful reactions. If looks could kill, Kate would be dead.

“I wont worry about a key because I know Yelena will just break in.” Kate shrugged.

After you said your farewells, Yelena and yourself were left lingering to the side of the sidewalk.

“So, what now?” You asked, assuming Yelena had some destination in mind. She peeked at the thin watch in the mismatched stack of bracelets on her wrist before delivering a shrug.

“You have all of New York at your disposal, what would you like to do?”

“I do appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today Miss.” The detective dipped his head respectfully as you entered his office.

“It’s my pleasure.” You offered him a smile. “I’m sure I’m in agreeance with the rest of London that we all wish to see this monster seized as quickly as possible.”

“Right.” He agreed with you. “And given your encounter, I’m sure you’re frightened.”

You nodded, hand reaching your to toy with the broach pinned through your scarf as a display of your nerves.

“He was terrifying.” You admitted, voice choking with emotion. “I swear it was a demon.”

“No demon, Miss.” He offered you a tissue from his desk. “I can assure you s’ no such thing as monsters. Only men.”

You offered him a teary smile dotting your eye with the cloth.

“I suppose I do sound silly.” You admitted. “Speaking of demons, ghosts and ghouls.”

The detective casted you a sympathetic smile.

“You’ve been through a great trauma, dear. It’s only natural for your mind to rationalize such a heinous scene.”

He turned to his notes, clearing his throat.

“So stated that you were walking home last night?”

You nodded along with his words.

“I work managing a house for Ms. Romanova.” You started. His eyebrows raised.

“Were you alone?” He fished for more information. You nodded. The expression on his face soured slightly.

“I usually stray from being out so long after dark. I-I’m restaffing at the moment, so my days have been running quite long with all the extra chores.”

“Such hard work for such a young lady.” His eyes rows raised. “I’m sure she can’t be an easy boss to please.”

“You mistake her character. I love my job more than anything.” You rushed out. You couldn’t dare to imagine your life any other way.

“Right… apologies,” he turned back to the words before him. “You saw the attack?”

“Not all of it. I heard the screams first.”

“You didn’t run away?”

“Occupational reaction I suppose.” You shrugged. “I’ve dealt with gardeners fall on their equipment, seamstresses stitch through their flesh, cooks severing their fingers, I -”

“I understand.” He cut you off. “And you saw this man?” You nodded.

“He had this knife.” You explained raising your hands to clumsily gesture the size. “Yay big. He, he was kneeling over that poor man.” You began to sob, eyes squeezing tight at the memory. The detective gave you a moment to gather yourself before he continued.

“So this man,” he started again. “Can you describe anything about him?”

“He was tall, lean but, not thin. I couldn’t see much in the dark. He had some sort of hat on, I think. I-I really wish I saw more, but when he noticed me I got so scared. I screamed and screamed. People started opening their doors. I think all the commotion scared him off.”

He gave you a look of pained sympathy when he looked up from his notes. Your eyes blurred with tears, hands trembling as you clenched the tissue between your fingers. You sniffed as politely as you could behind the tissue. He could see the distress on your face, your body rigid with tension.

Of course it was all lie.

Your entire story was a twisted fabrication of the real truth. There was no other man present besides the victim. And not only did you witness the crime- but you were an accessory to his murder. In fact, you were the very reason behind why he ended up being lured to that darkened area of the street. You flirted with him then guided him to where your partner waited down an unoccupied alley. Then you stood back and held the real murderer’s jacket as her victim was drained of his life. You then staged his body for discovery while the murderer fled to ensure she had an alibi. The black fabrics of the dress you wore that night had disguised any blood that had spilled upon you before your charade had started.

After your initial interview with the officers, you were escorted home still displaying an act of a traumatized bystander. The detectives waited with you for the head of the house to arrive home- claiming you to be emotionally unstable. Natasha arrived to the house shortly after. The dinner party she was attending was cut short after some of the detectives that were attending had to leave due to the fresh victim of The Ripper.

With all his questions for you seemingly answered, the detective finished up the interview. He apologized for having to make you relive the events of that night, not wanting to cause you any more emotional distress. He offered you his hand to help you stand from his chair as he escorted you from his office. You zeroed in on her location before the crowd of people cleared up.

“Ms. Romanova.” The detective greeted with a surprised look. Your partner stood out amongst the officers and other townsfolk. Natasha carried an inhuman air of beauty. You found her almost impossible not to gawk at.

“Detective,” she gave him a smile as she reached out to you. You clutched the cloth in your one hand as you placed yourself at Natasha’s side.

“It would seem that we are done here.” He informed.

“I hope that I was of some help.” You said meekly. Natasha made a show of hugging your shoulder in comfort.

He nodded. “Of course. I would feel a lot better if you ladies would allow one of our officers to give you an escort home.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Natasha answered for you. “We’ve got a few errands to make before we head home. Maybe take her mind off of some things.” She gave the detective a knowing look, side glancing to you momentarily.

“Very well.” He nodded. “If anything else comes to mind, you let us know. Be sure you two make it home before dark.”

You looped your elbow against Natasha’s arm at the doorway, both of you bidding the fools of Scotland Yard a goodbye for now.

Once you had made it a handful of steps did Natasha speak.

“You did very well.” She praised while keeping her eyes forward.

“Did I?” You peered over to her, excited nerves bundling in your chest. She nodded with a small sound of approval.

“Just like we rehearsed.” A playful laugh erupted from her painted lips. “Your little performance even had me a little teary eyed.”

Warmth bloomed through your chest as she confirmed her prideful admission, a satisfied smile settled onto your features. You wanted to be convincing to the detective. You wanted to be good for Natasha. Selling a half convincing lie to the Scotland Yard and casting suspicion on yourself would only complicate Natasha’s affairs.

Aside from just being something fun to do, Natasha’s goal with the Scotland Yard was to ensure there would never be a possibility of herself becoming a suspect. The Scotland Yard was not a fan of her or any of her acquaintances. They had been circling their affairs for months, but never could find any evidence to link them to anything. If a muster seems to take place while Natasha is with her aquantences and the Scotland Yard- there could be no real link to them. Once their business in London was complete, they could believe whatever they wanted because they would be moving on to a new place.

“We have to stop and see Yelena before we go home.” She changed the subject. “She’s back from visiting Romania and I commissioned her for a gift.”

You had met Yelena before when you first moved to England and stayed in the countryside. Your memories of that time were foggy and hard to catalogue. Natasha explained that you fell dangerously ill and came close to succumbing to the symptoms. Thinking too much about it gave you a headache and your stomach churn. You usually followed her advice to not to dwell on it, but the mentions of her sister’s name had your thoughts deepening. It stirred up a subtle ache somewhere deep in your brain.

You both arrived to her sister’s residence, being greeted by a housemaid at the foyer. She rattled on about notifying Yelena of your arrival before she disappeared from the sitting room. Natasha made herself right at home taking a seat on the expensive couch while you numbly trailed to stand by the arm. She took notice to your altered state peering upwards to your vacant face. Her hand skimmed your back to pull you down, seating you beside her to rest on the arm of the chair. Her fingers toyed with the golden ring on your finger.

“You remember Yelena right? I know it been some time once you’ve last met.”

“When we met...” you trailed off trying to find a way to articulate your muddled thoughts. “I was-”

“I know,” Natasha cooed, affectionately brushing her hand against your cheek. “You weren’t feeling very well. You just needed some fresh air and a little space.” You nodded.

Yelena entered the room, shouting excitedly in Russian at her sister. Natasha stood to greet her, leaving you sat in your place to wait. Your mind wandered back to your time at the cottage. The rampant fever burned away most of your lucid memory of the months you spent there with Natasha. Though, you could remember Yelena visited her sister frequently there. She would make supply deliveries to Natasha- who had refused to allow you out of her sight. The breech of privacy was insisted to be necessary by Natasha. Who were you to know any better?

When they had settled Yelena finally turned her attention towards you, calling out your name to gain your attention. You delivered a polite hello. She looked a little different than you remembered, but still youthful as ever. Her skirt was simple, clearly expensively tailored matched with a dark laced blouse and jacket. Though her hair was pulled upwards and styled, you could tell it was shorter and the red eyes you remember being introduced to were an unnatural shade of muted green.

“She looks good.” Yelena observed, eyes skimming over your face and assessing your healthier build. “Much better than when I saw her last.” Yelena held back a chuckle. Natasha rolled her eyes. Her little sister had never sired anyone before.

“She’s doing well.” Natasha aknowleged while returning to stand before you. She reached her hand out, fingers toying at the delicate trim of your dress’ jacket.

“A little boring.” Yelena noted.

Natasha gave her an unimpressed look, annoyed with her sister’s pestering.

“She’s a person not a dog, Lena.”

“So she’s just being shy?”

They continued to speak about you like you weren’t in the room.

“Your last encounter was at a rather stressful time for her. Trust me, she’s perfect.” Her hand had traveled upwards to neaten your scarf. The praise warmed your chest.

“I can’t say that I’m not jealous.”

All eyes were still trained up upon you. Not only feeling the sudden awkwardness, the slight pressure behind your eyes had turned to a prominent ache. Natasha picked up on your discomfort instantly, the noticeable uptick in your heartbeat was unmistakable.

“Well, you can kindly oogle someone else.” Natasha said playfully, growing possessive of you.

“Alright, alright, no need for the hostility. Let me find your package.” Yelena joked as she strode into the joining room.

“Are you overthinking again?” Natasha asked, hands moving to pet at the warmed skin of your face. “Must be strange meeting Yelena again. Don’t worry about it, you’ll do better next time.”

You nodded with her words, immediately believing her promise.

You returned home just as the sun began to set. The package Yelena had presented was a smaller sized box wrapped neatly in plain paper. It was still in Natasha’s hands as you watched her set it down on the center table of the sitting room.

“So what is it?” You asked again. You had tried to get the answer on your way home, but she refused to supply you with a one. Natasha just smiled at you, enjoying the playful frustration you displayed. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“No,” she drew out the word. “because it’s for you.” The package was pushed your way.

“For me?”

She nodded. Natasha wanted to reward you for your good behavior. Not that it was a problem before, but meeting with the detective was something new. Yelena arriving back in London with the gift just when Natasha was planning to stage a mess for Scotland Yard was purely coincidence. You were a little surprised. Not that she was gifting you something but because you really had no need for gifts. Natasha supplied you with quite literally anything you ever asked for and more. Despite receiving countless gifts from her before you stared at the package in awe.

“Open it, silly.”

You reached for the gift, pulling the strings of twine that tied it together. Once the paper was out of the way you were able to access the lid of the box, removing it to reveal more packing paper. Your eyes shifted up to Natasha who nodded for you to continue. Under the tissue was a neatly folded black silk.

“What is it?” You asked, fingers itching to touch the soft material.

“It’s a dress. Not and outside dress...” Natasha filled you in. “A dress you can wear only for me.”

A smile carved its way onto your face, eyes brightening in excitement.

“Would you like to try it on for me?” Natasha asked.

You nodded taking the box of folded silk into your hands. Natasha gave you a kiss to your cheek, instructing you to stand up. You eagerly lead the way to your chambers, former headache seemingly forgotten. You had already started undressing before she followed in behind you, locking the door.

Natasha’s own hands wandered to your corset and began to unfasten the tightly strung laces. Once it was loose enough she pulled you free from the constricting material. She methodically continued with each layer of your clothing, eventually tossing your dressing gown to mound of fabric laid over the armchair.

From there she helped you into the new dress in comfortable silence. The garment was off the shoulder, exposing your neck and upper chest. Like much of your wardrobe the black coloring was strategic choice to avoid any blood staining. Natasha’s eyes trained onto the healing bites that still lingered at the junction of your shoulder, something usually easily disguised by your clothings’ neckline or scarves. They would disappear completely soon, but not before new markers would take their place beside them.

When she had the material smoothed out and fitting you perfectly she directed you to the large mirror positioned in the corner of the room. You flittered around in half circles to fully see the movement and flow of the fabric.

“Do you like it?” Natasha asked as she admired your pleased expression in the mirror.

“I love it.” You confirmed.

You spun on your heels to face her, Natasha’s eyes followed every movement of your body as you approached crossing the few steps it took to reach her. You immediately climbed up to sit on her lap, arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her hands found placement on your hips, just shy of grabbing your behind.

“Thank you.” You braced her into a tight hug.

“Your manners are so cute,” she giggled. “You know you never need to thank me for gifts.”

“But, you still like to hear it.” You said quietly, lips ghosting over her ear. Natasha simply hummed in response, enjoying your closeness. She could always hear the steady beat of your heart but now with you pressed up against her she could feel it too. Her gums ached more and more as the beat gradually picked up pace with every timed thump.

Natasha pulled far back far enough to gain access to your lips, wasting no time to press hers against you. You folded on an instant, returning the kiss as her hand shifted lower to grope at your ass. Natasha’s fangs had fully exposed themselves now. They throbbed dully in time with every beat of your heart. Your hips stuttered against her thigh as her sharpened canines bit into your bottom lip.

A whine escaped from you as her lips traveled down your jaw, then hovering against your pulse point. Your heartbeat had picked up again, beating steadily in a rhythm accompanied by the rushing blood through your veins. Her lips sealed against your carotid, tongue laving at your warm skin. She felt your body begin to relax under the touch of her hands on your thighs. The skirt of the new dress was now bunched up to expose your skin to her.

You made another sound of displeasure, this time grinding your hips aiming to relieve the forming ache between your legs. Natasha hushed you while cradling the back of your neck with her hand. The hand still placed on your behind guided your hips against. These grinds were deeper this time allowing your bare core to catch on the skirt Natasha wore.

Natasha didn’t care if you soiled her dressings, instead she encouraged your movements, shifting her weight appropriately against you. With the newfound boost of confidence you deepened your thrusts. Your hips messily worked against the coarse material of her skirt dragging along your core.

Your head tipped back farther in an audible moan. She scraped your neck lightly with her teeth, reveling in the way your body eagerly twitched against her. She waited for you to breathe in one more time before she bit down. Your lips parted again as you silently gasped surprise, fingers tightening where they were now gripped on her arms.

When your thoughts came back together, the uncomfortable pressure from her initial bite was soon forgotten as her venom entered your bloodstream. It casted your mind deeper into your lustful haze, you felt yourself grow impossibly more wet. The toxins spread warmth through your veins quickly, tension in your muscles disappearing and falling almost boneless against her. It was not long before your blood began flowing into her mouth. As soon as the taste of you hit her tongue, Natasha was humming in satisfaction.

She greedily gulped down your blood, still using her hands to hold you steady. Your hips had began to move again without her aid, body regaining some of its autonomy back. They twitched at the increased sensitivity with each lazy thrust. The rhythm was out of synch, but still attempting to chase your high.

The time seemed to liquify as she continued to feed off of you. Your inebriated brain cataloged the minutes that passed by like mere seconds. You began seeing sparkles in your vision as you grew more light headed, soon the edges started dimming out. You knew most people should would been worried, but you were not. You trusted Natasha with your life. Enough to know she would release her hold on you before you were in any real danger.

While so lost in your head, you had never noticed when she released her bite. With hands now guiding your hips, finally jolting you out of your haze. Your eyes trained downward to where she was licking up the expanse of your neck, cleaning the blood that that trailed down your cleavage. Now that you could see her, you could also hear her muffled voice in your ears. The timing was off, and the words sounded far and echoey to you.

“What?” You slurred out while fighting off a moan.

Natasha smiled at you with cherry red stained lips, an adoring expression on her face.

“Are you close, sweet girl?” She repeated.

You nodded, head dropping to her shoulder. Her dominant hand left her place on your hips to find its way under the skirt of your dress. The rough material of her skirt was replaced by the softness of her cold fingers against you. Your body jolted in surprise, the chilled temperature of her skin contrasted against your heated folds, but she didn’t allow you to run. Instead, she held you in place circling against your clit at an inhumanly methodical pace. Her strength was overwhelmed yours, preventing your thighs from closing around her.

Your breathing was labored, uneven breaths passing through your lips wile you moaned and whined in pleasure growing in strength as your orgasm approached. Natasha resumed tonguing at your neck and traveling down, this time playfully sinking her fangs into the exposed flesh of your chest. Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning. She worked you through it slowing her ministrations against your clit. She didn’t pull back either allowing you to soak her hand and her skirt while she prolonged your pleasure.

Finally she let up completely, allowing you to come down from your high. You curled yourself against Natasha’s chest, forehead tucking into the crook of her neck to catch your breath. Her hands started gliding aimlessly up and down the expanse of your back. You stayed like that for some time, slumped and comfortable against your lover. The moon had risen into the sky by the time you started to shift around in her lap.

“You okay?” She asked.

“Why didn’t you get a dress made?” You randomly asked, ignoring her question.

“Who said I didn’t?”

“You need to show me immediately.” You ordered, now sitting up filling to face her.

“It’s not done yet.” She laughed at your enthusiasm. “We have to go to Romania for a final fitting still. Where I will commission to have that seamstress make you a dozen of these dresses.” She tugged the dress’ fabric of your chest.

“Deal.”

i’m so sick of shoveling fuck that groundhog and all his circle of goons. also fuck the US men’s hockey team fr fr. divas be sure to support our lovely gold winning ladies and watch the pwhl