john i think i need a doctor

You Clearly Don’t Understand. Play You.

(Or: Things that everybody thinks make Sherlock canonically straight but they really really really don’t and why don’t you see that, because it’s so beautiful!!!)

Apologies to my Doctor-Who followers for this ongoing Sherlock intermezzo, but I just need to vent a little longer: I. Loved. Series. Four!!! 

In particular, I loved The Final Problem. I loved Sherlock calling John family, I loved the smashing of the casket, the touching of non-existent glass, the air plane metaphor, Mycroft outside his comfort zone, etcetera etcetera etcetera. I loved the whole bloody thing.  

But my favourite, favourite moment was the one when Eurus asks Sherlock to “play you”. And he plays the theme of The Woman. 

Because it is the bravest thing Sherlock has ever done. And it makes this moment incredibly powerful. 

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“Are you going to just stand there for the rest of the day, John?”

“Oh no, I’m taking photos, too. What happened?”

“I miscalculated the intensity of the pheromones I was experimenting with.”

“Pheromones, eh?”

“Bee pheromones. Could you call a beekeeper now? This is getting a bit warm. Also, they are beginning to crawl into my shirt.”

“You’ll need help looking for those later, I presume. Wouldn’t want to leave any in your clothes, would we? And should you get stung, I have a cure for that.”

“What a selfless offer, doctor. I think I can imagine the ‘cure’.”

“Good for you.”

“Indeed.”

My entry for this month’s @sherlockchallenge: Experiment Gone Wrong

Lovesick

Happy Birthday @sincerelydayyy !!!!!  Here’s a little bit of corny fluff to, hopefully, brighten your day. Thanking @mizjoely for betaing this. It’s not season four compliant. Hugs & Love (it’s G rated!) ~Lil~


“I believe that I’m… ill,” Sherlock said as he sat across from his best friend.

“Ill? As in…?” the doctor responded.

“As in sickness, John. You’re a doctor. This shouldn’t be a difficult concept to grasp!”

Calling on his reserve of ‘Sherlock patience’, John said, “I need to know your symptoms. And frankly, I don’t mind helping out but if you really think you’re ill, you should see someone else. It’s inappropriate for me to be your GP.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“No, it’s not. Patching you up after a case is one thing, but being your regular physician is something else entirely,” John explained.

Sherlock sighed. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help or send you to someone who can.”

The detective stood up and paced across the room. “I’m not fond of doctors.”

John raised an eyebrow which Sherlock saw when he turned around.

“Oh not you, you’re fine. And Molly. But she’s different, I suppose her patients are already dead. But I do like her. Doctors in general… I’ve no use for whatsoever.”

John took in Sherlock’s appearance: he was disheveled, perspiring and had a slight tremor in his hands. “Okay, I’ll admit that you do look a little ill. What are your symptoms?”

Sherlock nodded and sat back down. “Sometimes I get a flushed feeling, for no reason at all. Heart palpitations, sweaty palms, dry mouth and an odd tightening in my chest.” He looked almost frightened. “I Googled them… I have a heart condition, don’t I?”

John tried to put together everything his friend had just told him and come up with at least a general idea of what could be ailing the detective. However only one thing came to mind. “Is there any pattern to the symptoms?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No. Sometimes it happens at home or at Barts. It’s happened at Molly’s several times. And once while we were at dinner.”

“You went to dinner with Molly?”

“After we finished the Michaelson case. You were celebrating your anniversary,” he said the last word with disdain. “She was hungry.” He rolled his eyes. “So, what do you think?”

John was still having a hard time believing his ears, so he continued his query. “Do you have any of these problems when you’re running around chasing suspects?” he asked even though he hadn’t noticed anything himself.

“No.”

“This is happening when you’re at rest?”

Sherlock nodded, looking anxious. “What John? What’s wrong with me?”

“Calm down first of all and answer this: does it only happen when you’re around Molly?”

A look of concentration on his face, Sherlock appeared to be searching his mind. Then he stopped and looked up at John. “I’m… not sure.”

Well that seems unlikely, John thought. “Think really hard, Sherlock. Is Molly always around when you feel like this?”

Once again Sherlock seemed to focus, even closing his eyes. He needs his bloody mind palace to help him figure out that he fancies a girl, John mused.

Finally, after some time, he focused on John once again. “Yes. She seems to be a factor… most of the time.” His last words came out slowly.

John leaned forward. “Okay, so what do you think that means?”

Sherlock drew his hands together underneath his chin. John had seen this at least a hundred times… this was it, he was about to figure out his feelings for Molly Hooper!

“I’m allergic to Molly’s perfume,” he said smugly. “I knew it! She changed it last month and even though I told her I liked it, which I do - it’s soft and understated…”

“NO!” John closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “You’re not allergic to… Sherlock you like Molly.”

The detective gave John his classic you’re an idiot look and said, “Of course I do, John. Everyone likes Molly. She’s kind and generous, intelligent and hardworking. She’s incredibly forgiving and quite possibly the most patient woman I’ve ever known.” He stood up and paced across the room. “She’s loyal and trustworthy and… her eyes… they’re not brown exactly.” He turned to face John but was focused on some point across the room. “They’ve got golden flecks in them, if you look closely…” Suddenly he put his hand to his chest. “Oh my God… I’m in love with her!”

John jumped up. “Bingo… wait, love?” He didn’t think the stubborn git would get that far in their first conversation.

“Yes, John. Of course… It’s so obvious now,” he said, a look of awe on his face.

“Well, yes. Everyone else figured it out ages ago.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, there’s actually a pool.” He thought for a moment. “Damnit. I wasn’t even close.”

“What’s wrong with you people?” Sherlock asked. “You were betting about… What date did you have?”

John looked a bit sheepish. “I thought it would take at least another year.”

Sherlock shook his head the disappeared to his room for fifteen minutes. John used the time to send some text messages, letting the losers know what had just happened. He’d tell Mary in person. Looking up, he saw his best friend grabbing his Belstaff and heading for the door. “Going to Molly’s?” he asked.

“Yes,” he answered tersely as he walked out the door.

John followed. “I already told everyone who won the pool,” he said when they got to the foot of the stairs.

Sherlock whipped around. “You told everyone! Everyone?” He glared down at the shorter man.

“No - no I didn’t mean everyone. I misspoke. I’m telling Mary myself and…”

And?” Sherlock demanded.

“And… Molly’ll know soon enough.”

“Molly was in the pool?!”

“Yes. She must have noticed the symptoms of your ‘illness’ increasing in severity, because just the other day she changed her slot to this week.” Sherlock looked confused. “See, the pool is divided into weekly interv…”

“I don’t care about that, you idiot!” he barked as he stormed out the door.

“Right.” John followed.

“She won? Molly won the pool?”

“Yeah. Anderson didn’t think it was fair to let her in. Said she had an unfair advantage.”

“He’s right, of course. Her advantage is that she’s intelligent!” He held up his hand to stop a cab.

“Are you angry with her?” John asked.

“No. Why would I be mad at Molly?”

“Oh, good.”

“But there will be no betting on any other aspects of our relationship, understand?” Sherlock said as a cab pulled up.

John nodded his head, making a mental note to tell everyone to be careful about the ‘when will Sherlock propose?’ pool he had been planning once this one was over. “Of course, of course.”

“Good.” Sherlock straightened his coat and asked, “Now, do I still look ill?”

John shook his head. “You’re fine. Don’t throw up on her.” He smiled.

Sherlock actually looked slightly concerned before he turned and climbed into the cab.

“Lovesick fool,” John mumbled as he walked toward the Tube.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Love your blog. I have a character (character a) who gets shot (a lot) on a roof, then is rescued by character b who has to get them off that roof before a bomb hits. (I'm thinking BASE jump or some sort of zip line? Maybe a helicopter if need be) Uh character b is/was a doctor. How likely is A to survive transit off the roof and what does B need to do to keep them breathing? (I can get them to an ambulance and state of the art care really quick) they have 2ish minutes before the bomb hits

Why do I think this a certain Sameen Shaw rescuing John Reese at the end of the last episode of Person of Interest? 

So here’s the thing. This? This is survivable. 

I count two bullet wounds: right deltoid and right lower abdomen. Yes, this is more than enough to fell a skilled fighter like John. 

This? This is not survivable.

(screencaps courtesy of screencaped.net).

That’s +- 90 high-powered assault rifle rounds fired at close range against a stationary target. Even assuming a miss rate of 50%, that’s 45 high-caliber bullets. That’s not survivable.

So I’m going to base this ask on somewhere in the middle. 

The big thing is going to be stopping the bleeding. Tourniquets will stop extremity bleeds, wound packing will stop torso bleeds, but the biggest thing is that the wounded character (definitely John Reese) is going to need blood products and a trauma surgeon, and he’s going to need them immediately

Wound packing is basically taking gauze and stuffing it into a wound until it’s full, then stuffing in more gauze. The idea is that the packing puts pressure on the bleeding. 

Honestly, if we’re going high-tech, REBOA is going to give the best odds of survival. REBOA is short for Resusctitative Endovascular Balloon Occlusion of the Aorta. Basically, the doc would put an arterial line into the groin of the rescued character, dilate it with a dilator, then thread a balloon catheter into the wound, get it up into the aorta, and inflate it between the last branch of the brachial artery and the first branch of the renal arteries. 

The idea looks like this, but higher up, ie, above the renal arteries:

Source: http://www.bbc.com/news/health-27868418

There’s even precedent for this being done in the field; London HEMS did a REBOA in the godsdamned fucking street because they are badass motherfuckers and their motto should be Life From Above

The other option is simply cutting open his chest and putting a pair of clamps on the aorta in the desired place. Both procedures are desperate, both require sterility, and both are extremely dangerous, but they’re the only way he’ll live. 

The point is that to stop bleeding, simply pinch off the aorta as long as you can. Keep blood going up to the brain, but keep it from going down to the abdomen (where it will just bleed out.) 

Sameen is exactly the person to do this: she’s action-minded, and very very good at not letting her feelings get in the way of doing what has to be done. It takes dedication to cut your friends open. 

Look, the honest answer to this is actually a movie title…

It’s very very very very very unrealistic for John not to die at the end of this scene even if he don’t get blowed up. (And he deserves his heroic ending – he’s earned it.) But if you absolutely must save him, this is how. 

I’d like to un-thank you for making me relive the tragic ending of one of the shows I’ve held most closely to my heart for this ask. 

I have one more thought on this situation:

Let me tell you who we were…

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[disclaimer]

Patreon: a magical land where the ask box never closes. Care to visit?  

Ebook for Free! 10 BS “Medical” Tropes that Need to Die TODAY! 

Secrets - John Version

Requested by anon:  Any Pairing: Reader x ?. I’ve got an idea where (Y/N) is hiding something and acting strange but when her boyfriend questions her about it, she avoids answering. This continues until he accuses her of cheating and during their argument she blurts out she’s pregnant (or something).
& Anon:  There’s not enough love for John!!! Can I have a protective John please?? Reader is johns wife or girlfriend and something happens?? Reader is close friends with Sherlock who is also protective of course…but I’m craving protective sweet John!!

Pairing: John Watson x reader

Word count: 1,584

Warnings: I’m not sure.

A/N: This gave so many twists… I swear there are five different versions of this story, but this one won over the others.

Enjoy!

Originally posted by sherlockspeare

The case had been difficult; the criminal was a true mastermind of simplicity. They had taken so much time to figure it out, and then to chase after him was even worse. But perhaps, the worse thing of them all was that (Y/N) had been involved accidentally.

She knew John would be following Sherlock all night long until they caught the criminal, but she had never expected her best friend to be the ones they were looking for. So when Sherlock and John appeared at the café and started the persecution, she had no other choice but to help them catch him.

Everything was fine, until he ran towards an alley with literal whole all over the pavement. For John and Sherlock it was nothing hard to jump them or dodge them, but to (Y/N) and her high heels it was more than a medium obstacle, which resulted in her falling to one of the whole and hurting her ankle. Thankfully, her friend’s heart remained the same, and he stopped to check on her, allowing Sherlock to arrest him.

Keep reading

8

John Shelby x reader

Request: I loved your John shelby imagine so I was wondering if you could do one where, you and John have loads of kids together and your married to each other, then one day you found out your pregnant again and your worried John will be angry with you because use already have lots of kids together, so you book an abortion. But then don’t go to it but John finds out about getting a abortion and thinks your getting one and goes mental about it xx

Author’s note: I feel like this is sloppy and I am so sorry i just didn’t want to leave the request unfinished. I am sorry if my posting is irregular but i am in my last year of high school and the next couple of weeks are when all my assignments are due (I know I probably shouldn’t stress this much at age 17 but I am working on it) So i am so so sorry if it is sloppy or if my posting is a bit irregular but please bare with me. ANYWAY enough rambling hope you enjoy.

You had the perfect family, the perfect husband, the perfect life. You had met John when you were only 11 and he was 13. you moved down from Glasgow and moved in down the street from him. He would tease you and trip you up laughing at you when you ran home crying. But when you turned 16 things changed, you would talk about things for hours, steal kisses when no one was looking and your hands were always intertwined. You loved him then and you love him now. You were married and with your oldest daughter at 18, Bonnie. She was the perfect baby and you were all the happiest family. Then Douglas came along, a couple years after him your next son, Jamie.

With three children all under the age of 7 things could certainly be handful, but you loved your children and you loved John nevertheless. When you fell pregnant again you knew John wasn’t as excited his reaction wasn’t the same. He told you money was tight and that he would have to work more shifts to cover the cost of another child. He was stressed, you could tell because he tossed and turned at night before giving up altogether and going to the bottle to soothe his mind. You almost didn’t tell him when  you found out you were having twins, but when the day came John was by your side and looked at your newborn’s Archie and Annabella, with all the love in the world. He loved all of your children and since then the Shelby business has grown and developed. Even though John was involved in more dangerous business he was making a lot more money. He bought a house just outside small heath, a big beautiful country house. When he first took you to see it you weeped in disbelief, this couldn’t possibly be where you would live.

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Sherlock and the Houses of Hogwarts

It has been done a lot, I know. But I have my personal view of how Sherlock’s Characters would fit in the Houses of Hogwarts.

 First of all, I’d like to point out that those characters (LIKE EVERY HUMAN BEING) possess traits from more than one house. What I’m doing here is trying to understand what stands out the most.

Also it is important to remember that the hat takes into consideration what the person truly wants.

SHERLOCK

I won’t lie about that. I hate it when people put Sherlock in Slytherin. I don’t think the problem is that they don’t understand Sherlock, I believe the reason is that they don’t really know what a Slytherin really is… or better, they don’t know what a Ravenclaw really is.

So, Sherlock is a RAVENCLAW, of course.

Here are the differences between the two houses:

Ravenclaw: wit, intelligence, originality, open mind, creativity, individuality, curiosity.

Slytherin: ambition, self-preservation, cunning, leadership, fraternity, resourcefulness.

 So, there is no denying that Sherlock possess a couple of Slytherin traits, every person in the world has traits from different houses. Sherlock is both clever and resourceful.

Though he isn’t in any way ambitious, he has no interest in leading or in gaining power. Sherlock doesn’t do what he does for the fame, he even hates his fame. And let’s be honest… he doesn’t even know what “self-preservation” means.

Sherlock is clearly a Ravenclaw. He has a witty personality. He is intelligent, curious and has an incredibly open mind. He does what he does for the sake of it, not to reach a good position, not to get praised for it (of course he likes to get praised, but it is not his main goal). Sherlock has a strong individuality; you see it from the very first moment he appears on screen. He is so lost in his inner mind that he fails to notice other people’s problems. Sherlock rises from the crowd, he is different.

 To me it is as clear as the sun that he is a Ravenclaw.

JOHN

I’ve noticed some people put John in Hufflepuff. I don’t agree with that, I think John would be a GRYFFINDOR and here’s the reason. Of course john is loyal and (sometimes) kind as the next Hufflepuff, but I believe that the first thing we notice about him is bravery. We are often told that he has strong nerves and his sense of justice is incredibly evident.

But the truth is that the real reason John would be a Gryffindor is because he would choose to be one, like he chose to be an army-doctor instead of just a doctor.

MORIARTY

In total honesty Moriarty is the most difficult of all, because he is a psychopath so his mind works in a strange way.

His case is similar to Sherlock’s, because we need to decided whether he belongs in Slytherin or in Ravenclaw.

When I thought about it the first time I immediately picked Slytherin, without even considering the other houses, but then I decided to go deep inside it.

I think the best thing would be taking into consideration all the traits to decide.

RAVENCLAW

Wit: Moriarty is insanely witty, it goes without saying. He is a fast thinker, he is humorous, he talks in puns and likes riddles. Those are clear Ravenclaw’s traits.

Intelligence: Duh.

Originality: Moriarty is incredibly original in his ways. The real Jim Moriarty stands out probably more than Sherlock himself does. He is one of a kind.

Open mind: I honestly don’t know about that… I think that to have an open mind you reacquire to care about the world around and he clearly doesn’t.

Creativity: I suppose you need to be rather creative to organized all those crimes and never repeat yourself.

Individuality: Well of course.

Curiosity: Jim IS curious… maybe not about everything, but still

SLYTHERIN

Ambition: To know that we should understand what are the motives behind his actions. He often talks about boredom so it seems like he doesn’t really have a thirst for power. Though he’s got power, great power and he uses it. He also advertised himself with that infamous trail. I think he is ambitious, but I can’t be sure… with a character like Moriarty we can only suppose.

Self-preservation: Yes. It is true that he committed suicide, I know… But let’s not forget that he has always worked in the dark, behind everyone’s back.

Cunning: Well, shit.

Leadership: He did lead a criminal web successfully!

Fraternity: I don’t really know. We have always been told how alone he was. We’ve never seen him interact with people, so again we can only make supposition based on really little information.

Resourcefulness: Incredibly resourceful, yes.

 The problem still remains. Like John he possesses many traits from different houses, so the only option is that he would be able to decide in which house he belongs.

Would Moriarty choose Slytherin and be the great leader of the cunnings? Or would he choose RAVENCLAW instead, and stay away from the attention and from the expectation of him doing evil things?

I believe he would choose the second option but it’s again a supposition.

MARY

Mary is a SLYTHERIN. There isn’t much to say about it.

Resourcefulness, cunning, ambitious, self-preservation. To me she is a true Slytherin, and an incredible one to be honest.

Mary is also brave as a Gryffindor, loyal as a Hufflepuff and witty as a Ravenclaw. But the majority of her traits belong to Slytherin.

IRENE

Again, a SLYTHERIN. An incredible, seductive and persuasive Slytherin.

Irene is a Slytherin even more than Mary is. It’s difficult to find other houses’ traits in her portrayal.

She played Sherlock and the British government with ease, charm and prowess.

She did everything with the aim of obtaining something.

MOLLY

I strongly believe Molly belongs to HUFFLEPUFF. I noticed that a few people put her into Ravenclaw, probably because of her job. I don’t agree with that; Molly may be smart and dedicated to her studies and job, but those characteristics do not belong to Ravenclaw. Not every person that succeed in a job that require years of studying is a Ravenclaw… that’s absurd.  

Molly is loyal, kind, patient, unafraid of hard work and she plays fair. A true Hufflepuff indeed.

MYCROFT

I think we all agree that Mycroft is the most SLYTHERIN to ever slythering.

Really, there is no need to expatiate.

LESTRADE

With Greg it is a bit difficult, because again there are two houses in which he would easily belong: Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

I’m more for GRYFFINDOR though, considering his job choice.

MRS HUDSON

HUFFLEPUFF forever and beyond.

EURUS

Considering Slytherin’s traits she is cunning, resourceful and she lead an entire secretive prison.

Nothing from Gryffindor.

Certainly nothing from Hufflepuff.

As for Ravanclaw, she is curios I think… she is also highly intelligent.

I believe Eurus is a SLYTHERIN at the end.

okay but let’s talk about...

…all the looks that go across Simm!Master’s face here:

1. “Is that really what I look like when I’m angry?”

2. “…Hot.”

3. ‘…Also unexpectedly terrifying.”

4. “Shit her claws are like an inch from my windpipe.”

5. “…Okay really seriously terrifying buttocks are definitely clenched.”

6. “Fucking hell she’s got claws does she have fangs too shit why didn’t I think of that I really miss being a cheetah sometimes.”

7. “I have SUCH a weird boner right now.”

Ok guys think about this AU...

What if, in T6T, instead of Mary, John goes to the aquarium first, and Sherlock gets shot (again) and, perhaps like Mary, dies in John’s arms… 

What would John’s reaction be? What would their conversation be like? Will John blame Mary? I NEED TO KNOW.

PS: Apologies for the unnecessary pain. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask you guys to think about this.

Keep reading

Keep it Secret Part 6

The hardest thing about having your kid at the hospital, with almost none chances to wake up is that people don’t hesitate to invade your privacy. Some people only care about the news and ask about things that are hard for you to answer due to your state.

Currently all of your sister’s friends had left, finally after all long and tiring evening and you were alone with Jason outside John’s room. Jason was literally the only support you wanted at this time. Even if you sometimes hate it he was the only person who’d tell you the truth. And as he had said now there was something you needed to know.

Your hands were in his bigger ones as you looked into his eyes. Your heart was burning; earlier today the doctors had announced you that there was almost none chance that John would wake up and had asked for permission to use his organs once he finally died. And by looking at Jason’s eyes all you could think about how painful it be not to be able to look into your son’s dark blue ones.

John was going to die and the thought or rather the realisation was killing you too.


“I know I should have told you earlier… but before Dick found Shawn he thought she was pregnant. That’s what she had told him. And once he learnt that she wasn’t…. well let’s say that it was the next day that he came at your door… you know how Dick reprojects things from the past, things he has lost and can’t accept it, on other people and situations.” Jason explained with the calmest voice he could muster. This was the truth and he had figured you should be aware.

“Jason, you’re saying that Dick…”

“It’s like Dick is pretending John is the kid he was supposed to have with Shawn.”

Your hands shook as shivers run through your whole form. The feeling of blackness quickly consumed you and you felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head while your whole being spasmed. Next thing you knew was that you woke up on a plain white room.
___________

“The hell do you mean by she’s at a room because she fainted?” Dick yelled at Jason with all his might. Good he was gone for 45 minutes and this has happened to you. He knew he shouldn’t have trust Jason with that. It was making his insides boil.

“The hell I mean? You go tell her the truth about why you went to see John.”

“Because I figured the damn kids was mine and had to be his father”

“Had?” Jason raised his eyebrow at Dick by saying that. “No one is forcing you Dick. Stop trying to reproject the fucking lie Sha-”

“Don’t you dare talk about this. My son is dying in here and the mother of my child of also on a hospital bed when I trusted you with her.” Dick was yelling to the point almost everyone at the floor had gathered around him. His chest hurt as his heart pulsed through his bones, his breathing was ragged and rage rushed through his while firm at the sight of Jason. “I’m not FUCKING reprojecting anyone on my son or (Y/n). I love them both.”

With that he was gone to find your room.

_______________

Jason and Dick were fighting for the rest of the while you stayed at the hospital. As the doctors though had insisted, you had to go home, bathe and eat your favorite meal. Anything to feel a little better. They said that most mothers in your place ended up in asylums and by taking care of yourself would help you not to end up there.

So Dick offered to take you home and take care of you, for the sake of old times. You didn’t have any power to deny and so you just went along with it.

Dick had helped you make a bath, he had ordered food and had cleaned up your apartment. That night was the only one in months where you and Dick had some really alone time. The conversation was actually pretty light, not only around John, but it made you feel as you could trust anything to Dick once again. Jason’s words had stopped mattering as you stared at Dick eyes. John’s eyes were identical to his father which for some reason was filling you with pride. A feeling in your chest was bubbling every time Dick spoke. Oh how John looked like his father. You had nearly forgotten.

How you had ended up naked on Dick’s arms though you didn’t know. But it had felt as if all of your pain had momentarily vanished and you were sure Dick was feeling like that too. It felt so good to have him back even in this form, although you knew it was going to kill Jason when he learnt.

And it wouldn’t have been such a shame, but it kept happening again and again and again. Jason only had to understand about the force that had brought you and Dick back together. At least you were going to keep it secret for a while. At least until John let out his final breath.


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Oxygen (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

Previous Doctor Who/Sherlock parallels in Series 10:

The Pilot (opening episode of Doctor Who Series 10) & Sherlock parallels

The Smile (Doctor Who) & (smiley) Sherlock

The Smile (Doctor Who) & Sherlock parallels

And a look back at Series 9 etc parallels here

And: Looking back: Jenny & Vastra & Foreshadowing The Plan

Breaking through the Eurovision and my birthday madness to give you this! ;) This episode was written by Jamie Mathieson.

  • We open with a couple, one trying to admit their feelings to the other: “You realise life can be so brief, so I just wanted to tell you, if we get through this…” Here, it’s a possible pregnancy announcement, but it’s set up similarly to Sherlock’s “John, there’s something I should say” at the end of His Last Vow. There, it was an aborted declaration of love- and in Doctor Who the moment literally becomes a dying declaration of love as one of the two die- see here for more thoughts on John & Sherlock, and the aborted/dying declaration of love trope.
  • Nice moment again acknowledging the double meaning of phrases- one saying “I still can’t hear you. You’re wasting your breath.” You can take this literally- he literally can’t hear the other. and they are literally ‘wasting’ the oxygen they need to survive. But, it also symbolises a break down in communication, neither truly ‘hearing’ what the other wants- like John and Sherlock literally not hearing each other when Sherlock is in Soo Lin’s flat in The Blind Banker- they’re not communicating their relationship to each other properly.
  • The Doctor drawing a skull on the blackboard again reminds me of Sherlock and his skull.
  • The Doctor took an oath to guard the vault= Sherlock taking a vow to “always be there” in The Sign of Three.
  • When they come across the first walking corpse (hey, Mary is the “dead woman walking in The Six Thatchers ;) ), Bill is disturbed that he remains standing in his suit: “Can we just lie him down?” Reminds me of The Lying Detective, where Culverton says people pretending to be dead in films are “just living people lying down.” For more, see:  The Lying Detective Opening: John stopped lying down= John living ‘a dead man’s’ existence
  • Bill asking the Doctor “Do people ever hit you?” and the Doctor replying “Well, only when I’m talking.” Seems like Sherlock has that problem. ;) John in A Scandal in Belgravia: “I always hear punch me in the face when you’re speaking but it’s usually subtext.”
  • The effect of the screen turning red when Bill blacks out is very similar to the cliffhanger ending of The Lying Detective. For more on that moment and it’s possible references (*whispers* Bond…) see here. 
  • The Doctor repeating that he “needs to think”, just like Sherlock.
  • The Doctor saying they have “five whole minutes” left. Five minutes (and years) is a recurring time mention in Sherlock- see Someone’s got “five years” on their mind.
  • The Doctor’s quip: “I’m sorry, I just thought I was tweeting.” Compare with John in The Lying Detective“Sherlock on twitter? He really has lost it.”
  • Throughout the episode, the Doctor keeps plans from everyone because he knows they will hurt- Sherlock keeps his plan from John in The Lying Detective “because he won’t like it.”

Thanks for reading and see you next week! <3 x

Thank You (A John Rant)

Okay so. I’m not over Sherlock. But I am over Johnlock…happening in the show. I accept that. Not the story they wanted to tell. Fine. There’s many, many questions about the choices they made if that was the direction they were going and things I have trouble liking but…whatever. I have fics and RPs, it will do.

But you know what I want now, if there is a Series 5?

I want John to tell Sherlock; “Thank you.

Thank you for curing me of my limp and giving me a purpose in life again.

Thank you for giving me access to your debit card after knowing me for a couple of months and taking cases that you know will give us money so I don’t have to worry about finances.

Thank you for saving me that time I was kidnapped and almost killed.

Thank you for going through two years of hell in exile, involving suicide missions and torture, just to save my life and a couple of our friends.

Thank you for saving me that time I was kidnapped and almost killed. 

Thank you for organising my wedding and writing the most beautiful best man speech and then saving someone else I cared about.

Thank you for showing me the truth about who my wife is and then persuading me to be with her, despite what she did to you, because you just wanted me to be happy and with the woman you thought and I loved and was carrying my child.

Thank you for shooting the man who was threatening to destroy our lives and thus sentencing yourself to yet another exile and more likely suicide mission. Additional points for not telling me about this to save me further grief.

Thank you for babysitting my daughter and being a good godfather because I have trouble remembering she even exists half the time.

Thank you for almost killing yourself and putting yourself in harms way all because my wife suggested it would be the only thing to pull me out of my grief after she died even though I wrongly blamed you for her death.

Thank you for comforting me and embracing me after I beat the shit out of you and confessed to having cheated on the woman you had tried so hard to protect for me.

Thank you for standing up for me to your brother and calling me family.

Thank you for saving me that last time I was kidnapped and almost killed. I doubt it will be the last.”

Where is this? Any of this, in the entire show? 

When does John ever show ANY gratitude or recognition for Sherlock as a person? The only moment I can think of is when he hugs him at his wedding, only after Sherlock has poured his heart out, and John has had some wine to curb his inhibitions. The rest of the time he just bitches and snaps about how much of a madman or inhuman monster Sherlock is. That’s when he’s not physically assaulting him. When are we going to get to see John do something for Sherlock?

Okay he saves him once in the first episode. Good…is that it? In four seasons, are we ever going to see that again?

We see him save Sherlock in TAB! But, oh wait, that’s all in Sherlock’s head.

We see him save Sherlock in TLD! Oh, except he’s the one who beat him up and abandoned him there in the first place. Also he apparently only went to save him because Mary: Blu Ray Edition told him to. Also, the policeman could have kicked that door in!

We are TOLD in TSOT that he’s saved Sherlock ‘so many times and in so many ways’. We’re only shown one or two of these times. And the other ways he apparently saved Sherlock…well, I don’t think we honestly see a lot of John trying to explain and teach Sherlock to be a better person, it’s just nagging and snapping and then implying that causes him to change. It’s hardly Beauty and the Beast. I’d argue Sherlock wasn’t that much of a monster to begin with. John is hardly a saint or someone who can tell others how to be moral either.

I suppose John does help rebuild Sherlock’s flat in the end….Call it even? :P

The reason I’m focusing so much on this is because, before watching that ‘Why Sherlock is Garbage’ vid, I was beginning to think I was alone in seeing how John was poorly used in this show. I rarely saw anyone else complaining at how many times this supposedly badass army doctor gets kidnapped and needs Sherlock to rescue him, especially in contrast to how often John gets to be the hero (almost never). But I got to see someone else rant about it at last and I hate it because he also pointed out how the show really is about making Sherlock out to be this superhuman hero rather than a clever detective. Watson goes from being a hero in his own right to being a tool used to show off how awesome Sherlock is.

And not just Sherlock, but Mary as well. In TST, Mary nearly takes John’s place, with Sherlock stating she is ‘better at this than him’. Because that’s what Holmes and Watson fans want to see! Watson being replaced and seen as useless! It’s the same anger I have in how they turned the three badass fairies whom I loved from Sleeping Beauty into three neglectful idiots in Maleficent; unnecessarily tearing down a beloved character in order to build up another.

But, despite this all, I do still love John Watson. Before Series 3 he was my favourite character. Maybe it’s Martin’s amazing acting or maybe it’s the potential I saw. Maybe it’s me confusing ACD!Watson (which is NOT fanon Watson, thank you!) with Mofftiss’ Watson. Maybe it’s because John starts out as the character we are first introduced through and who we are supposed to see their world through so there’s a need to identify and like this character. So I really, really want the writers to start giving a crap about John and stop sacrificing his potential as a good friend and true hero for the sake of making Sherlock the big, amazing Christ figure who always saves the day and everyone else is a damsel in distress. 

I love Sherlock too, I do, and I do like the journey his character has gone through. But it’s supposed to be a show about BOTH of them as heroes. And, you know what, it’s not even that big a problem if you do have John just as a damsel in distress. It’s kinda insulting to the original Watson but, whatever, it’s an adaptation and a new spin, you can do what you like. Lois Lane, April O’Neal, Xander from Buffy, these are likeable characters despite ending up needing to be rescued a lot. But if the character being saved can not even be grateful to the hero - then how we, as the audience, see them as worth saving, let alone remaining ‘best friends’ with?

If this is supposed to be a show that is about a great friendship - then make that friendship great! Because at the moment it feels painfully one-sided and the idea that this could be the last series, that the show could end with them in this unhealthy state, makes me way more sad than the idea of them not getting together romantically. 

Sherlock is the one who’s seen as the master manipulator, turning on the tears or the smiles to get the info he needs, but I think we overlook how good John can be at that, too. When he talks to Louise Mortimer, he starts by turning on the John Watson charm to hit on her, and when that isn’t enough, he works his way up to a trifecta of manipulation: appeal to her emotional connection with her client (”you’re worried about him”), remind her that you’re on the same side (”I’m a doctor, too”), and play on her desire to help people and her capacity to empathize with you (”I have another friend who might be having the same problem”). And it was going to work. She was going to talk before Frankland interrupted. John can be just as manipulative as Sherlock can; he just does it in a less obvious way.

An Unexpected Playlist. John Watson.

Request:  I hope I’m not bugging you with this request. I loved your other John Watson x reader and I’ve had Colt 45 stuck in my head for a week and this idea popped into my head. John and the reader are on a road trip and the reader is put in charge of the aux cord and the playlist is something like the song above.

Triggers: Drug use (weed). Road Trip through the US. Mentions of sex. Small angst. Abuse. I don’t know what happened. But like…it happened!

Word Count: 1498

The playlist I made that helped me write this

Enjoy :3

Originally posted by geek-royalty

Keep reading

Comic-Con [Sherlock Holmes]

Summary // You, Sherlock and John happen to be in San Diego during the time of comic-con and you’ve always wanted to go there

Originally posted by silent-micka


“Why not?” You asked, you had always wanted to go to comic con and since you, Sherlock and John were now staying rather close to San Diego for a case, he refused to tell you about the case, and since he refused to let you go on the case with him, you decided you’d get some tickets for comic-con and go since you had always wanted to, and now he was protesting.

“It’s dangerous.” He responded and you rolled your eyes, that was absolutely ridiculous, to everything was danger but it was a public and well-known convention so there wasn’t really much to worry about.

“Shut up Sherlock, the case you’re on is dangerous, going to a convention isn’t dangerous. Any way, I got two tickets so you can go along with me if you’re so worried about me.” You said, you had done it as you hoped that Sherlock would tag along with you and otherwise you just had a spare ticket, you two never really did much together as most of your time was spent on cases or having some fun in 221B but going out wasn’t necessarily what you two did a lot, the odd restaurant and things alike but never something really big.

“I suppose.” He mumbled and you grinned.

“You know I’m going to make you go in costume, right?” He glanced up at you, curiously. “Oh yes, you are going in costume and I want you to surprise me, I mean we’re never really here so now that we are I want to get a full experience in cosplay, you can do this for me.” You said and you noticed John was going on to silently judge Sherlock when his response was silence and you smiled.

“Fine.” He said although he sounded far more excited than his face would suggest, you just smiled. You always enjoyed seeing the panels and just all the amazing cosplays which is why this one time you were able to go and you wanted to make the most of it, with your boyfriend of course.

-8-

“Didn’t you say you were going out?” Sherlock said as he noticed John standing in the hotel room, since Y/N was so insistent on him surprising them Y/N decided to take John his room and Sherlock knew it meant a lot to them so he did want to do a good job but he just had no single clue what to do, he knew exactly what they liked but that didn’t mean he was able to think of what they might cosplay as.

“I did and I did go out, didn’t take too long to find this, did some research last night.” John said as he revealed a dark brown pinstripe suit, along with one of his white dress shirts and a dark tie, lastly when it came to clothing was a long brown coat and a pair of converse.

“So, I didn’t get these new but I got them from Mycroft, I’m not spending god knows how much on things you’re going to wear once or twice but I do feel like you need to surprise Y/N good because of everything they put up with you, and I happen to know what they’re going to cosplay as.” John said with a satisfied grin and Sherlock took the clothes from him.

“How come you know and I don’t?” He said.

“Because of your irregular sleeping hours I’d say, I saw something on the bed of you two and I asked them about it, Rose was their first companion so I immediately knew what to do, some careful conspiring with Mycroft and he sent the whole outfit to some friends here so I went to pick them up, I actually suggest not wearing the coat all the time, it’s more of an extra for when you’re on your way, it doesn’t suit with the episode but he basically wears it in all of the episodes and since Mycroft was paying I decided it was necessary.” John explained and Sherlock felt stupid when he didn’t think of that, he knew out of all the tv shows Y/N watched, Doctor who was their favourite and he knew they started watching around the time when it first aired so he could’ve known all of this yet he didn’t.

“Thank you. I supposed I failed to notice something this once, I’m sure Y/N is going to love this.” Sherlock responded and John just smiled.

“Just repaying a favour, it’s nothing too much since Mycroft paid for it all and Y/N would absolutely love this so I don’t mind helping my best friend out. Now, we need to get some product because your hair doesn’t exactly fit this cosplay.” Sherlock nodded, of course he knew the tenth doctor, mostly due to Y/N as he didn’t really watch tv, he was starting to like the show and of course they informed him about every single little detail there was about the show.

“I am at your mercy.”

-8-

You stared one last time, it took you quite a long time to get the cosplay together but you were excited either way, you had been wanting to go to comic-con since forever and now finally could and in full cosplay as one of your favourite characters, you had asked John to tag along as you felt a little awkward alone in a completely alien enviroment and he went along and would head back once you had seen Sherlock and went on inside to the convention.

“you’re going to love what Sherlock did.” John said as you were both sitting in the cab and you adjusted the wig a little bit, you raised a curious eyebrow as the cab kept driving.

“I’ve seen it, I’m not telling you though but I think you’re going to love it.” John said with a smile and you just nodded, you first had to do see but you knew Sherlock could surprise you very well despite the amount of time you’ve known him and the two years you two have been together, somehow he was just good at surprising you, sometimes he had help but most of the times he did it on his own.

You two arrived on a street close to the convention, that’s where you agreed to meet and you were stunned at the sight, it was beautiful and made you giggle as well. You had decided to go in cosplay as Rose from ‘The Idiot’s lantern’ as that was one of her most distinct looks and you liked it so to see Sherlock in full pinstripe suit with his hair up was a certainly a delight, a bit odd but lovely either way.

“I’m not a big fan of wigs.” He said as you approached him with John next to you and you chuckled.

“I understand why, It doesn’t feel nice but its really pretty so I put up.” YOu said with a little chuckle, he offered his arm and you immediately took it, John grinned and left as the two of you headed for the convention.

-8-

“I’ve never been this tired.” You said as you fell down onto the hotel room couch, since the two of you had gone into cosplay and tenrose was still a pretty popular ship a lot of photos were asked and both of you obliged, Sherlock a bit more hesitant but you suggested he try to have a little fun and went along with the requests and so did you, the combination of photos, a massive crowd, panels and all of the other things you two did left you exhausted once you both got back, you more than Sherlock but you noticed he was more tired than usual.

“I’ve noticed,” Sherlock commented.

“What a brilliant comment, either way thanks for making this a great day, it wouldn’t have been the same without you.” You said with a smile, it wouldn’t be because there’d be less photos but doing something together in a completely different place it was just a nice thing to do together and you wanted to do more of these things, not necessarily conventions but just going out with him and doing things you didn’t normally do.

“You have John to thank really, he pulled this outfit together.” Sherlock responded.

“Don’t be so hard, I’ll thank him to but he wasn’t the one at my side the whole day and you were.”

A Crisis of Faith, or, The Why of EMP

Watching The Lying Detective again, it becomes clearer and clearer that we’re in some variation of a dream, a trip, an alibi, Sherlock’s mind palace - some sort of false reality.  There’s plenty of good meta on this: see the EMP masterlist (someone lmk if there’s a more recent list to link to). There was a compelling case for it before TST & TLD, but I resisted, because I didn’t get why they would do this. 

(I’m a bit like John Watson when he gets angry at Sherlock - not interested in the how, but the why.  Plenty of amazing meta writers worked out the how of TJLC, but I had to write a 13k word meta before I could accept the why.)

Anyway, I can deny it no longer, EMP is happening.  But… why?

Here’s my best guess (and, not coincidentally, my greatest hope): EMP is happening because they want to get even more metafictional.

I haven’t watched all of Moffat’s Doctor Who episodes. In fact, they used to annoy me – Moffat uses the sci-fi setting to set up really fantastical plot twists. In Sherlock, Moffat’s plots are bounded by reality, plausibility, science. Or, well, they were.

To be fair to Mofftiss, BBC Sherlock is still bounded by plausibility.  They’ve gone to the trouble to present multiple in-universe mechanisms for us to be watching a false reality.  Interestingly, these are all introduced in the second series.  We get drug-induced dream sequences in ASiB.  We get drug-induced hallucinations and memory-altering substances and the mind palace in THoB.  We also, in Series 2, get the first truly metafictional storylines: Irene Adler and the destructiveness of love; Henry Knight haunted by his own story, a distorted truth; and of course, Moriarty, telling Sherlock’s story all wrong.

Prior to Series 4, I thought this was more or less the limits of their metafictionality. Sure, they’ll throw in a lot of imagery and symbolism, but they wouldn’t go further than that, would they?

Of course they would.  They ended Series 2 with a character called The Storyteller writing Sherlock to death.  That was half a show ago.  They had go somewhere after that.

But where exactly are they going?

Keep reading

a thing i’m working on…i guess this is a preview…basically whouffaldi AU but Armand John of Gallifrey (i need to come up with a better last name lol any suggestions?!) is to be the political advisor/right hand of the King, who is basically in his deathbed. Victoria, who is next in line for throne and now a regent while the King is sickly, seems to clash with Armand from the very beginning. Both being stubborn, keep fighting and arguing, only to later realize that they are very similar…i think or atleast that’s where i’m trying to go with the story but lets see…

Mary's message

Miss me?

Thought that would get your attention. So, this is incase the day comes. If you’re watching this I’m probably dead. I hope i can have an ordinary life but who knows? Nothings certain, nothings written. My old life, it was full of consequences.The danger was the fun part, but you can’t outrun that forever. You need to remember that. So, I’m giving you a case Sherlock, might be the hardest case of your career. When im gone, if im gone, i need you to do somerhing for me. Save John Watson. Save him sherlock. Save him. Don’t think anyone else is going to save him, because there isnt anyone. Its up to you. Save him. But i do think you’re going to need a bit of help with that because you’re not exactly good with people, so heres a few things you need to know about the man we both love. And more importantly what you’re going to need to do to save him. John Watson never accepts help, not from anyone, not ever, but here’s the thing; he never refuses it. So heres what you are going to do. You cant save John because he wont let you. He wont allow himself to be saved. The only way to save John is to make him save you. Go to hell Sherlock. Put yourself in harm’s way. If he thinks you need him, i swear he will be there.

P.S:
I know you two, and if I’m gone i know what you could become, because i know who you really are; a junkie who solves crimes to get high and the Doctor who never came home from the war. You listen to me; who you really are, it doesn’t matter. Its all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails there are two men sitting, arguing in s scruffy flat like they’ve always been there.. and they always will. The best and wisest men i have ever known.
My baker street boys.

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.

Falling for You was easy

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,434

Warning: Mentions of torture, pain, cursing, violence, blood, fluff?

(A/N): I didn´t plan on posting this, but it´s been on my mind for a while now. I   didn´t separate it into multiple ´parts´ either simply because I suck at cliffhangers. I don´t know yet whether I´ll continue writing and posting, and must ask you to bear with my terrible grammar and spelling. Enjoy!

Translation: (Y/N): Your name, (L/N): Last name, (H/C): hair color/ brunette, blonde etc., (E/C): eye color


Originally posted by torturezone

Madagascar?

She raises a brow, slender finger tracing the outlines of the map before her.

“Madagascar”

Fury confirms with a nod, turning to the screen behind him.

“You are to meet and extract Dr. Lara Martin.”

A picture appears on the screen, showing a woman in her mid-forties, brown hair tied into a messy bun, green eyes sparkling behind a pair of old glasses.

“Your team has been already briefed and is waiting in the jet.”

She quirks her brow once more, lips pressing into a tight line.

“Team?”

Fury affirms with a nod, turning his attention to someone behind Natasha. She spins in return. Sparkling [E/C] eyes and an unreadable expression greet her, set into perfect contrast on the flawlessly beautiful face of the woman before her.

“[L/N]”

Fury acknowledges her with a small smile, she greets him with a two-fingered salute and pushes of the wall.

“Shall we?”

She arches a brow at Natasha, who merely narrows her eyes ever so slightly.

“A trainee?”

Both turn to Fury, the young female looking as unimpressed as before while the red head hardly manages to contain her annoyance.

“They have to learn somehow.”

A shrug is all she gets in return before Fury wishes them luck and walks off.

“If it helps, I offer my sincerest condolences​ to you.”

The statement is accompanied by a slightly raspy chuckle, a thick British accent manifesting and cutting the silence that befell the two of them. The [H/C] offers her hand and lets the corner of her mouth twitch upwards.

“It’s [L/N], [Y/N] [L/N].”

The name rolls off her tongue effortlessly, eyes seeking and finding their green counterparts.

“Natasha Romanoff”

She accepts the hand, shakes it briefly and keeps walking, sending a quick sideways glance at the young trainee. She can almost feel the strength her lithe body possesses, even while walking. For a moment, she lets her eyes wander further, past her standard SHIELD uniform and towards her neck, where she can see a small scar stretching along the place where the trachea is located, barely hidden by the black collar of her uniform.

“Finally!”

She avoids her gaze to the two males before them- twins, she idly notices- who stand bouncing on the balls of their feet almost impatiently.

“The Castillo twins.”

[Y/N] nods towards the pair and Natasha could have sworn she saw her roll her eyes in annoyance at the males.

“Mark to your left and John to your respective right.”

Two grins match the introduction, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Wheels up in five!”

They turn and Natasha is somehow glad to see [Y/N] stand next to the pilot, nodding towards her with a knowing look on her face.


The hours spend flying to the island Natasha uses to study the location of the extraction point, along with the team given to her. She is pleasantly surprised to discover that the three are the highest ranked trainees, both twins having shown to be especially good at marksmanship and hand to hand combat during training.

It is [Y/N]’s file that sparks her interest however. Both family and past held classified, the only thing she is left to look at are her skills. And those are- should the files be believed- exceptional to say the least. She lets her eyes wander towards the female in question, watching her every move as she loads her guns. She will be the one she’ll go into the base with, while the twins will stay behind and keep their backs covered.


They land on a patch of grass a couple of miles from the extraction point and leave the jet with the pointed look of the pilot burning into the back of the twins’ skulls. The walk to the base is silent, eyes trained on the building that protrudes from the canopy of leaves and branches.

“A church?”

Mark’s voice is tense, confusion etched onto his face.

“More like a monastery.”

[Y/N] mutters, facing the building.

“They gave us the wrong blueprints”

She continues after a while, sending a glance towards the red headed woman who too tensed up at the sight of the monstrous structure.

“What now?”

John clutches his rifle tighter, looking around.

“We go in and scope out the monastery for the Doctor.”

Natasha begins and faces the two males.

“You stay here and keep watch.”

Three nods are all the affirmation she needs to begin walking, [Y/N] close in tow. They pass the gates and slide inside, eyes trained on the large crucifix before them.

“I think now would be a good time to mention that I despise-”

The [H/C] stops and turns, releasing the safety on her gun, alarmed by something that Natasha had trouble making out. A few tense moments later she lets her arm drop to her side, taking a couple of steps forward. The red head follows, watching the female kneel and inspect the edges of a door with narrowed eyes.

“What the-”

Her eyes widen, Natasha’s ​following behind mere seconds after as she sees a thin wire snap.

“Bloody hell!”

They sprint behind the nearest corner, pressing close to the wall just as an explosion shakes the building.

“Of course, it’s a bloody trap.”

[Y/N] sighs, pulling out a knife and bracing herself for the fight that is sure to come, while Natasha contacts the twins.

“They’re under attack.”

The [H/C] nods curtly, eyes tracing the outlines of a flash grenade before she throws it back with a small snarl.

“If it’s any relief to you boys, we are too.”

She breathes into the com, just before the first Hydra Agents make their appearance known with heavy fire. She returns the pleasantries and empties her magazine in an exhale, narrowing her eyes when they close in on them, forcing the two females back to back. They function like a well-oiled machine, flawless and fast, relentless and lethal, reducing the enemies number swiftly, despite it being just the two of them. Both would have lied had they stated that they weren’t surprised by that themselves.

“Damn it”

The red head ran out of bullets, eyes widening as [Y/N]’s shoulder met hers, pushing her harshly a few steps back while the woman herself shot an Agent in the chest.

“Here”

She tosses Natasha a gun that she held stored in her chest pocket, throwing an incoming male over her shoulder before shooting him.

“Thanks”

The [H/C] could almost feel her smirk, and frankly it was enough for the corner of her lips to quirk upwards too.

“Don’t mention it”

A bullet whizzes past her and she hisses, shooting the offender before clutching the wounded limp. Natasha takes notice of it, turns to make sure the coast is clear and briskly walks over to the female to check up on the injury herself.

“It’s just a flesh wound”

[Y/N] mutters once the woman is close enough to hear her, coughing at the smoke and dust that covered the entire place and obscured their view.

“A gaping, bloody, hurts-like-a-motherfucker flesh wound, but a flesh wound at that.”

She adds some time later, earning a smirk and small chuckle from the red head in return. She slumps against the wall and watches as Natasha contacts the boys, attempts to at least.

“Their coms are off.”

She states and in an instant [Y/N] is back on her feet, reloading her gun and handing Natasha another magazine. The red head gets the hint, takes it and reloads her own gun, already on her way to the gate. She pushes it open and prepares for another fight, narrowing her eyes when she is met with a deserted yard.

“I think now would be good time to point out that this is bloody strange.”

Natasha nods in agreement, motioning for [Y/N] to follow her back to the jet. They set into a hurried jog, weapons still drawn and more alert than ever. The patch of grass that the jet once stood on is abandoned, both vehicle and team gone.

“Those assholes…”

She lets her arms fall limp to her sides and watches with barely hidden resentment as the Hydra Agents circle them.

“Fight?”

Nonetheless the futility of that proposition, she nods, standing back to back with the infamous Black Widow once again.

“Absolutely”

They were faring well enough for some time, killing every Agent in sight. But they were outnumbered. Ridiculously so and slowly but surely, they tired. [Y/N] was first to go down, having received a kick to the chest that send her tumbling before being restrained by three Agents. Natasha came second, falling face first into the grass after a male managed to hit her strongly on the back of her neck. Her face was the last thing [Y/N] saw before her own world went black.


Ironically enough Natasha’s ​face was the first thing she woke up to too, her green eyes flitting between the dizzy [H/C] and two men in obnoxiously white lab coats.

“Good morning, dear.”

She sighs at the greeting and grunts in response, shifting so she is facing the males too. She feels the metal around her wrists as she does so, uncomfortably cold and tight around her skin, probably tight enough to leave a bruise. Her back arches slightly as the freezing metal rod she was chained to rubbed against her burning back, making her realize that those bastards in front of her dragged her all over the ground by her hands, scraping off some of her skin if she had to guess while at it too. With another sigh she leans backwards slowly, hissing at the harsh contrast the icy rod provided her with.

“No need to get comfortable”

She watches him chuckle and step forward, taking a fistful of her hair into the palm of his hand and yanking it towards him with a smirk. She meets his gaze and scoffs, seemingly unimpressed by the sudden terseness of his actions. He doesn’t move for a while, accepting the silent challenge and staring into her stunning pools for a moment before snarling and standing upright once again.

“We have some questions for you, lovely ladies”

He begins, grinning widely as he pulls on a pair of dark leather gloves before turning to face Natasha.

“Questions you”

He nods towards the red head

“will answer unless you want her”

He sends [Y/N] a fleeting glance

“to pay the consequence.”

He turns to his partner and nods once more, crossing his arms over his chest as the slightly shorter male takes out a notebook and flips it open.

“Your names?”

He reads out after a while, taking out a pen. His voice is gruff, holding a rasp to it that only lifelong smokers possess.

“Your names?”

He repeats again to make sure the question was heard, eyes wandering between the unreadable duo. With a shake of his head he watches as the slightly taller male takes matters into his own hands, taking a swing and kicking the [H/C]-haired female right into her chest. They watch her gasp, coughing a couple of times as the wind gets knocked out of her lungs. Absently they notice the red head tense, green eyes fixated on the coughing female to her immediate left.

“Whom do you work for?”

Silence and another kick

“What was the objective of your mission?”

One more kick to the chest and a splatter of blood follow the tense silence, female hunched over with blood running down her chin. She is wheezing for air by now.

“Your names?”

He repeats the question once more, waits a few seconds and strikes. He doesn’t stop this time, punches and kicks her over and over, satisfied to see Natasha turn her head from the gruesome display before her. At least they’re getting somewhere. When he finally stops, [Y/N] is hanging limply at the rod, passed out and bloody. Both grin and turn to the red head, offering her one last chance by repeating the second question. She doesn’t answer and they close the door.


The second time the [H/C] wakes up, she is facing Natasha, whose face is resting between two gloved palms. It’s her turn now. The questions stay the same, the treatment too, only that unlike the red head [Y/N] doesn’t turn away from the scene when the tall man refuses to stop his assault, knowing fully well that if she does they would continue switching her and Natasha’s positions daily- for as long as it would take SHIELD to find them. She had been right, of course, and over the course of the next twelve days it is her who gets beaten into a bloody pulp over and over again. She takes the beatings silently, not giving them the satisfaction in seeing her scream and cry, only allowing the occasional hiss to escape her busted lips when the males leave the room for good.

“You alright?”

Her voice is but a whisper in midst of the night- or maybe day, it was hard to tell while being held in a cell-like basement- raspy, sounding hardly concerned to the untrained ear, yet the [H/C] knows better.

“Never bloody better”

A cough breaks loose as if to mock her statement, a small sigh escaping the red head in return.

“I’m sorry…”

[Y/N] merely shakes her head, dragging her tongue over her lips absently as she stares at the ceiling.

“I should be the one saying that”

She simply states, idly noticing that this is the first time the assassin had spoken to her since they were captured.

“Why should you? You did your best.”

[Y/N] chuckles weakly in return, avoiding her eyes to her lap once more.

“Makes it even sadder, doesn’t it?”

Their conversation is interrupted by a sickeningly loud laugh, eyes trailing upwards to meet the bemused face of the tall male before them.

“How sweet.”

He exclaims with a voice so sweet it makes them physically sick, marching closer to the handcuffed duo. He watches their faces for a while before taking out a syringe out of his coat pocket and raising it up for them to see.

“This, my lovely ladies, is a syringe”

He begins in a singsong voice, grinning widely at them as he shakes it lightly, watching the blue liquid inside the capsule move with glee.

“Inside that syringe is a serum- my personal favorite.”

His eyes sparkle as he softly caresses [Y/N]’s left upper arm

“It’s better known by the name Fire and Ice, and does, just as the name states, only those two things. Burn and freeze.”

He pauses, showing his white teeth as his grin widens some more.

“Burn and freeze what, you wonder? It’s simple, it gives you the impression that you’re being burned alive from the outside, while making it feel like your blood is freezing over from within.”

He lets the syringe float centimeters from [Y/N]’s arm, chuckling lightly as he does so.

“It was often used by the KGB, for a while even by Hitler’s pathetic subordinates, yet none managed to utilize it as perfectly as Hydra does.”

Another soft caress and sick grin follow

“Last chance. Whom do you work for?”

He shrugs his shoulders at the silence, plunging the needle into [Y/N]´s shaking shoulder with far more force than necessary before letting the serum into her system.

“Have fun”

With that he walks out, closing the large metal door behind him with a cruel grin. The red head is left watching as [Y/N] bites down on her lip, sweat slowly forming on the crease of her brow while her body convulses. It was working. Gradually her self-control begins to slip, blood seeping from her lip at the force with witch the female bites down. The deafening​ silence is now filled with grunts and whimpers, minutes later growls and yelps that continue filling the room with sound until much later, accompanied by a few stray tears that escape while the [H/C] twists in pain. Natasha​ turns her head away once again, shutting her eyes tight and gritting her teeth in hopes of it all ending soon.


It does some time later- hours, days she’s not really sure. But it does, allowing the female to slump forward and release a shaky sigh. As if the almost insignificantly small exhale was some sort of cue, the door swings open. Three males in white lab coats take their places in front of the cuffed females, while two more roll in an old water tank and leave, shutting the door behind them with far more force than necessary. Their patience has run out. The one closest to [Y/N] crouches down behind her after taking a few steps forward, unfastens the cuffs and yanks her to her feet. She wobbles, loses her footing and falls, hissing when the formerly hardly moving men get her back on her feet by her armpits. They drag her to the tank, cuff her wrists behind her back again and jolt her forwards, face first into the water before her. Natasha is left watching as the [H/C] trashes around in the men’s arms, who stand above her with smirks on their faces, waiting. Still waiting. They don’t plan on releasing her. Natasha realizes in horror, eyes widening as she watches [Y/N]’s attempts to escape the water cease gradually.

“Stop it!”

The words leave her mouth with no filter, raspy, high pitched and unexpectedly terrified. They don’t listen, [Y/N]’s body growing still.

“Please stop!”

A sickeningly wide grin is all she gets in return before the female is jolted back, gasping and coughing. Her eyes sting and water, mouth opening and closing as if to say something. But they don’t give her the chance, simply jerk her right back in, ignoring Natasha’s pleas.

“Please…”

It comes out as nothing but a ragged pant, the second time they pull her out. Tears are flowing down her bruised cheeks and they know they broke her.

“I’ll give you anything”

She sends the red head a look that speaks louder than words ever could and she understands. She can’t take anymore.

“just please stop…”

They nod in silent agreement, the third male- the one that had previously uncuffed her- reaching into his pocket to retrieve a syringe. She flinches at the sight and they are quick to ease her concerns with feigned sympathy.

“It will merely put you under sedation for a while.”

The one to her right explains, loosening his hold on her arm.

“After you give us the answers we want, we’ll release you.”

The one to her left adds and steps back, closer to Natasha who can only watch helplessly. Her green eyes stay trained on the battered female who nods in understanding and shuffles closer to the man with the syringe.

“It will prick a little”

He warns, taking of the cap and kneeling next to her, ready to inject the substance within.

“I sure hope it will”

Her voice changes suddenly, broken [E/C] orbs hardening to cold greyish [E/C]. She kicks the man in the face, tearing the syringe from his hands and forcefully plunging the needle into the tight of the shocked man to her immediate right. He collapses to the floor, while the last man attempts to retreat. She is faster though, jumping high enough for her knees to reach her chin, while moving her cuffed hands underneath her. Once back on solid ground, she strikes, flinging her arms over his head and pushing him back towards her, solid metal chain around his neck. He yelps, struggling to break free, yet his attempts are futile. She is stronger. Life leaves his eyes gradually, body sinking to the floor softly. She allows herself to her knees with him in her arms, yanking harder as he makes one last effort to break out of her hold.

“I really hope it does”

She repeats in a whisper, releasing the corpse with a small grunt of pain. Her eyes flick towards the moaning mess that is the remaining man.

“Keys”

She outstretches her hands and in that moment Natasha is sure, if it weren’t her actions that convinced the pathetic mess of man than it surely was the air of finality, tinted with an unspoken threat, that accompanied the one word order, that did. He scrambles to his feet, reaches for his fallen comrade’s coat and pulls out the keys, handing them over with trembling hands. The gratitude comes in form of a punch to the neck. She spares his life.

“Are you alright?”

The question is unnecessary, both know, yet Natasha answers anyway.

“Yes”

She knows the ulterior though behind the simple inquiry. And briefly she muses that it should be her asking [Y/N] that. Such thoughts are cut short however as she is freed from her cuffs, carefully standing and stretching while the [H/C] gets a hold of two scalpels that lay forgotten on the table in the far corner of the room.

“Let’s go”

She earns a nod in return, the red head walking towards the door with narrowed eyes. She opens the door and follows the female outside, surprised to see the attached room deserted and the from them taken gear on the table right in the middle of it.

“This is either bloody convenient or a trap”

[Y/N] voices the obvious with a grunt, stepping closer.

“Let’s find out”

They don’t get to however, an alarm startling them and howling throughout the base. Both hurry to the table, grasping guns and some essentials before hurrying towards the door on the far end of the room. They are met with resistance, Agents appearing from doors that both could have sworn weren’t there before. They are outnumbered, but both would be damned if they gave up now. So they fight. And for a while the odds seem to be in their favor, Agents retreating to wherever they came from, leaving them a moment to catch their breath. Only that Natasha’s comes out painfully gurgled and shaky. The [H/C] turns, regarding her form with well-hidden worry and confusion. Nothing seems to be wrong with her, so [Y/N] takes a step forward and narrows her eyes. The answer comes to her in a bitter flash of epiphany, when the red head slumps against the wall. She has been shot.

“Where?”

She rasps, kneeling in front of her, eyes skimming over her body. And for a moment she curses the black clothes for concealing the wound. Natasha doesn’t answer, merely raises her right hand to cover her abandonment, hissing in pain. Has she been- No. [Y/N] dreads the possibility, yet the amount of blood that gushes out of her wound is horrifyingly close to what she would consider appropriate for a shot wound there.

“Let me see”

She orders, voice dropping low and becoming strangely comforting as she removes the red head’s hand from her blood-soaked abandonment. It looks worse uncovered and the amount of blood is enough to make HER nauseous. Quickly shaking those thoughts aside, she reaches for the pouch, she’s insisted on taking from the table, and digs into it, retrieving a small tube from within.

“That’s morphine”

She states, raising the tube for Natasha to see before slowly taking it back down and removing the cap, showing a needle beneath.

“It will help”

She continues, injecting her with it and throwing it away once again.

“It has to”

Her eyes drop to her hands, covered in blood and trembling and she curses, reaching for her pouch again and pulling out a piece of white cloth.

“Put pressure on the wound”

She presses the cloth to Natasha’s abandonment, waiting for her to do as told before she scrambles to her feet and digs into the chest pockets of her jacket. She manages to pull out a phone, her phone, Natasha idly notices as she watches her dial numbers in a haste.

“Barton!”

She practically barks, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear and kneeling to the red head’s level to pick her up.

“Barton, we need an extraction team! Romanoff has been shot, she’s losing blood bloody fast!”

Her voice contains drops of urgency, not nearly enough to paint her as panicked, yet more than enough to convince them that she doesn’t have everything under control like her barely changing facial expression would have implied.

“Where are you?”

Natasha faintly manages to make out Clint’s voice at the other end of the line, he sounds worried, angry too and briefly she wonders why he would be.

“I have no idea, they moved us”

They round a corner and [Y/N] is swift to takes the stairs even with Natasha in her arms.

“I can’t activate the beacon, Barton. It’s gone.”

She slams her shoulder against the door and nearly stumbles when she’s met with the cold night air and snow.

Snow?

She freezes for a while, whips her head around a couple of times and continues on, setting into a hasty jog for the thicket of trees.

“Just trace the phone signal!”

Gunshots follow and she ducks, slamming her back against a nearby tree.

“We’ll be heading south!”

With that she hangs up, reloading her gun with Clint’s reassuring ‘Just hold on, I’m coming for you’ still ringing loud in her ears.

The last thing Natasha sees are [Y/N]’s eyes.


She awakes to the steady crunching from the snow beneath, squinting her eyes shortly after opening them at the sheer brightness of her surroundings. She’s resting on [Y/N]’s back, her arms draped over her neck, while she in return is holding onto her legs.

“Where are we going?”

Her raspy voice startles the female into halting for but a second, and even though the action is subtle it is also enough to tell Natasha that she has been out for long enough for her sudden state of consciousness to serve as a surprise.

“No bloody idea”

The woman grunts slightly and shifts, repositioning the red head ever so slightly. Had she been able to see her face then, she would have seen her face set into a grimace of pain.

“Away from them”

She adds after some time and Natasha nods, resting her cheek on the [H/C]’s shoulder when her eyelids begin to drop once more. Vaguely she notices the trail of blood that they’re leaving behind, shifting slightly and realizing with somewhat of a jolt that it is not her blood anymore.

“Stop squirming, will you?”

She wills her green eyes to look over [Y/N]’s shoulder, mouth opening and closing a couple of times as if to say something. She doesn’t find the right words and settles back into her original position, tightening her hold around the female’s neck insignificantly.

“It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll survive”

Is the last thing that reaches her ears before she blacks out again.


The next time Natasha awakes, she is lying on some sort of sofa, covered by the [H/C]’s slightly tattered jacket. The sound of fire crackling fills the air and if she turns her head to the left and focuses hard enough she can see the flames licking at the wood, turning it into a dark charcoal.

“Where-”

She manages to croak out before erupting in a coughing fit.

“Somewhere”

[Y/N]’s voice is calm, steam escaping from past her lips as she kneels next to the red head. Dried blood is coating her skin, the once fresh bruises now a nasty blackish blue.

“Drink”

She reaches for a flask and helps the red head into a sitting position, watching her cringe and moan in pain. Carefully she presses the flask to the assassin’s lips, who merely grimaces and reaches for it to hold it herself. The strong smell of whiskey assaults her and for a moment she contemplates on not drinking the, what she is sure is, hard liquor. She does however, blinking in surprise when she is met with lukewarm water instead, green eyes meeting a pair of sparkling [E/C] ones.

“Don’t tell me you really thought I’d give you whiskey.”

She chuckles airily and stands, reaching for a thick stick that stood leaning against the sofa previously disregarded.

“How long was I out?”

She watches [Y/N] lean on it, biting her lip in an obvious display of pain.

“Two days”

Is all she says before making her way over to the fire, she limped heavily as she moved and the red head couldn’t help but frown.

“It’s a miracle that they haven’t found us yet”

She adds and kneels back down, outstretching her hands towards the fire.

“Then again with the storm outside, it’s no real surprise.”

Once again [Y/N]’s voice is the last thing Natasha registers before she loses consciousness once again.


It’s some time later- minutes, hours she’s not sure- when the tranquil darkness is replaced by an unbearable pain and the suffocating silence by [Y/N]’s reassuring voice.

“Hold on, Romanoff. The morphine will kick in any minute now.”

She forces her eyes open and wills herself to focus on the female’s face. It’s hardly illuminated by the light the fire provides, yet undoubtedly beautiful and effortlessly seductive. Even in her state of mind, she has little to no trouble in tracing the outlines of [Y/N]’s lips, labeling them as perfectly kissable and soft-looking. Her eyes are next. Piercing and stunning, drawing her into their endless depths when the [H/C] finally looks up to meet her own green pair. When [Y/N] breaks the contact, she is left regarding her face as a whole, idly noticing the two prominent scars there. One just above her left brow, deep and uneven and yet somehow still lovely adding to the masterpiece that is the woman’s visage. The second slightly cutting into her lips, slowly fading and small yet in spite of that still visible and strangely enough entirely alluring to the red head.

“Take a picture, Romanoff, it will last longer.”

Her soft chuckle breaks her trance, green eyes snapping back to meet hers. Pain seemingly forgotten for now.

“Maybe I will”

She regains some of her wit and [Y/N] chuckles yet again, brushing a hand through her hair.

“Maybe you should”

She reaches for the flask and hands it to Natasha, who takes it wordlessly and gulps down the lukewarm liquid.

“because gawking at subordinates surely will be frowned upon back at SHIELD.”

The red head chokes and coughs, leaning forward and allowing herself to send the female a playful glare. The small mischievous smirk on her face brightens in return and she laughs, softly and genuinely and Natasha has trouble naming a sound more beautiful than that.

“I’m just kidding”

She states after her laughter subsides, lips still stretched into a smile that the assassin has trouble not mirroring.

“I bet they won’t even care to begin with.”

She joins her on the laughter with a chuckle of her own, eyes slipping closed when the morphine begins to kick in, while [Y/N] takes it as her cue to stand to her feet once more. The soothing warmth of her fingertips against her cheek, as she brushes a strand of hair back behind her ear, is the last thing Natasha makes out before she falls into a long, dreamless sleep.


The clicking of a gun and a hiss of discomfort are the first things she hears when she awakes once again, eyes flying open and flitting across the dimly illuminated room in alarm. She catches the outlines of [Y/N]’s figure as she disappears behind a door and manages to make out the click of said as the [H/C] closes it. Her footsteps grow steadily quieter before she is left alone in a sea of suffocating silence. Her fingertips grasp at something cool just above her hip and when she clasps her hand around it, she recognizes it to be a gun. Why would she need one now? Her thoughts are a mess of foggy imagines and sounds, so when years of training kick in and she takes the safety off, all she can think of is the blindingly beautiful face of one [Y/N] [L/N].

“Nat? [Y/N]?”

The voice conveys insecurity and alertness, and for a split second the female freezes in place. Could it-

“Over here!”

Her own voice breaks as the adrenaline leaves her system in a rush that is all too familiar, body losing the strength it had gathered for a battle that she now is sure won’t ensue. The footsteps grow louder and in what appears to be less than a minute two blonds are by her side, eyes filled with worry.

“[Y/N]? Are you alright? Where’s Nat?”

The questions barely register in her mind as she slumps against the wall, yet she manages to point towards the door she just closed. Steve rushes towards said, while Clint takes it upon himself to pick her up and cradle her in his arms.

“You’re safe now, kid.”

His comforting words turn into white noise, her eyes glazing over and closing slowly as he walks towards the exit. It’s over. They’re safe. The words that she wanted to hear for so long are as sweet and warm as she pictured they’d be, and are more than simply enough to make her fall unconscious with a relieved smile on her face.


Natasha is first to wake up once more, yet unlike the countless times before that, she isn’t met with [Y/N]’s face or voice. Instead white walls and the obnoxious beeping of the heart monitor greet her. It takes her a while to get rid of the annoying voice in the back of her head, telling her that she’d rather be in pain and cold with [Y/N] by her side- smiling at her- than here, safe and sound, without her. It takes her even longer to focus on Bruce after he enters and chats her up, asking her questions she doesn’t care enough to listen to.

“Where’s ​ [Y/N]?”

She disregards whatever he’s been saying for god-knows-how-long and he smiles, motioning to the door.

“Outside, waiting for you to wake up.”

She nods at that, mood lightening considerably. Something that Bruce didn’t fail to register.

“Want me to call her in?”

The question is met with a curt 'Yes’ and one would have to be an utter fool to miss the excitement and anticipation in the red head’s eyes. He does as told and leaves, closing the door behind him softly. It opens again a few minutes later and Natasha is met with a mop of messy [H/C] hair and a sleepy [Y/N], whose forehead is wrapped in bandages, while the rest of her face is covered in plasters.

“Morning’ ”

She greets her with a small wave and pulls a chair up to take a seat at Natasha’s bedside.

“Morning to you too. Sleep well?”

The female chuckles at that and shakes her head, carefully leaning back into the chair. Natasha manages to catch a glimpse at the bandages that wrap themselves around what appears to be her entire chest, glancing down to find the woman’s hands too covered in white wrappings up to her knuckles.

“Yeah, not enough though”

A yawn escapes her as if to prove a point and before Natasha can think twice about it, she’s yawning too. It draws a small chuckle from [Y/N], whose eyes are now skimming over the red head’s body just like Natasha’s had been moments before.

“It is inappropriate to check out superiors, while they’re yawning.”

The female merely raises a brow in return, looking around the room.

“Pardon my question, but where is that superior that thou speak of?”

Her eyes shine with mischief and before Natasha can throw a witty remark, she has reached into her hoodie to retrieve a card. The red head takes it and narrows her eyes, reading out loud.

“[Y/N] [L/N], Avenger. Clearance level 7.”

She turns her head slow enough to let the woman know that she isn’t supposed to take whatever remark is thrown her way next seriously, yet when her green eyes meet their stunning counterparts her words catch in her throat. It doesn’t take much to acknowledge the fact that, even while bandaged up from head to toe, [Y/N] is breathtakingly beautiful.

“Like what you’re seeing?”

The teasing inquiry startles her out of her thoughts long enough to come up with a reply, lips turning upwards into a smirk of her own.

“About that picture-”

She trails off playfully and [Y/N] is left laughing once more, leaning her head back slightly as her shoulders shake lightly.

“How about you take one after I’m all patched up, eh? I’m sure I’ll look better then.”

She agrees with a nod, briefly surprised by the honesty and lightheartedness of the offer. Bruce enters the scene with an apologetic smile, scratching the back of his neck somehow awkwardly.

“Miss Hill wanted to see you about-”

He pauses, looks at the red head hesitantly and continues.

“you-know-who.”

[Y/N] stands to her feet in understanding and for a moment Natasha notices that she is no longer limping as heavily as before.

“You-know-who have names, Banner.”

She states casually enough for him not to take her curt reply as an insult. She sends Natasha a small apology over her shoulder and offers her a small two-fingered salute as she leaves, closing the door softly behind her.

“Who?”

Bruce merely shakes his head, taking a seat by her side as [Y/N] had moments before.

“The Castillo twins.”

He answers and watches her eyes harden. To say she looks mad would be a grand understatement.

“They had not only left the two of you behind, but also shot the pilot when he refused to go without you.”

He explains and gently brushes a hand through his hair.

“They said you had been killed. We went back for your bodies, but found nothing. And without the beacons we didn’t even know where to search.”

She nods in understanding, suddenly reminded of how angry Clint had sounded when [Y/N] managed to contact him. As if reading her mind, Bruce continues.

“When [Y/N] got a hold of Clint a couple of days back we locked them into a cell opposite Loki’s, just so he could mess with them while we retrieved you. The base was as good as abandoned when we arrived, so we were left wandering the woods, heading south, just like [Y/N] said.”

He smiles slightly and scratches at his neck.

“We found you in a partially destroyed orphanage”

He turns to the sound of footsteps and smiles brighter.

“I decided to leave the twins at your mercy. Whatever happens to them will be your call to make, hell knows those motherfuckers deserve it.”

Fury opens the door, stepping inside with Clint, Tony and Steve in tow.

“The best part is”

Tony chirps all to gleefully

“their fate is an 'accident’ or 'unfortunate mission’ no matter what you do to them!”

He makes air quotes with his fingers and grins, while Clint and the ever so righteous Steve don’t even bother hiding their satisfied smirks at that statement.

“Thank you”

They nod, offering her smiles in return.


Natasha is released three days after that, still rehabilitating, but out of the terrible hospital ward at least. She’s positively surprised when she discovers that Tony had given [Y/N] the floor directly above hers, even more so when she bumps into her in the elevator.

“Out already?”

She smirks at the [H/C]. The bandages covering her forehead are gone, so are some of the plasters, but aside from that her face is the same as it had been the day she visited.

“You sound surprised.”

She states and watches her type in the security code before pressing the button of the floor she wants to be taken to.

“I am”

She regards the red head with a smirk of her own, arching a brow in an unspoken challenge.

“I thought you'd​ give me more time to doll up.”

Natasha chuckles at that, watching the numbers sink with her green eyes.

“No such luck, it seems”

The doors slide upon and both are met with the lobby, a guard waving a hand at them in a friendly greeting.

“Where are you going?”

She follows the woman outside, catching her small smirk as she rounds the corner.

“A café.”

[Y/N]’s reply is as nonchalant as her smirk is innocent when she reaches out to pull Natasha’s hoodie over her head.

“Why the sudden interest in my personal life?”

Her British accent thickens as she regards the red head from behind half lidded eyes, dragging her tongue over her lips seemingly absently. It does wonders though, Natasha’s cheeks growing warmer as she avoids her eyes to the ground for a moment to steady her heart.

“Who says I’m interested?”

She watches her throw a hand over her chest in mock hurt, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“You hurt my feelings, Romanoff.”

“Nat”

She raises a brow, turning to look at her from over her shoulder.

“You can call me Nat if you want to.”

Natasha clarifies, watching her eyes soften slightly.

“Thanks, Nat.”

She reaches for the door handle of the café shop and holds it open, offering the red head a teasing bow.

“After you”

Natasha plays along, thanking her with a small bow of her own.

“Thank you”

They reach the counter with a small chuckle, ordering and paying before taking a seat in the far-off corner.

“Thank you”

Natasha repeats quieter, all traces of a smile gone. She’s serious, her eyes convey so much and for a moment [Y/N] is confused, titling her head to visualize said confusion.

“What for?”

The barista brings them their drinks with a friendly smile and leaves, offering the duo some privacy.

“For saving my life. I would have bled out, had you not been there.”

She sighs and avoids her gaze to the polished table between them.

“And even if I didn’t, there aren’t many people who would drag me along. You did though, even though I was nothing but a liability to you.”

A small chuckle forces her to look up, eyes meeting the bemused pair opposite her.

“Don’t mention it, Nat. You would have done the same for me.”

“But-”

She raises a hand to silence her and smiles just a tiny bit brighter.

“Enjoy your coffee, it tastes best when it isn’t as frozen as your-”

She stops herself and turns her attention to the counter once again, eyes sparkling with childlike curiosity as the barista brings a plate of cookies over to their table.

“They’re on the house.”

She states with a giggle and leaves, sending [Y/N] a small wink as she does so.

The Agent doesn’t seem to care enough to react to it and averts her eyes to the cookies and coffee in front of her instead. Natasha follows the example, upholding the small banter in between bites and sips. It is after a particularly​ witty comeback that [Y/N] nearly chokes on her coffee, setting the drink down with a chuckle. Foam is resting on the tip of her nose and her cheeks have gained an adorable red tint to them as she leans back slightly with a hand in her hair, to keep unwanted strands out of her face. A small click gains her attention and before she can question the sound, Natasha’s phone lands in her line of sight. Camera pointed at her.

“Turned out good?”

“Perfect”

It did, the rays of sunlight hit her face just right as the sun began to set behind the horizon. It bathed her face in a reddish glow, reflecting in her hair and sparkling in the coffee foam on the tip of her nose. It captured her effortless beauty perfectly and if somebody were to ask what her favorite picture ever was, she’d easily state it was this one.

Because, truthfully, the easiest thing for Natalia Alianova Romanova was falling in love with [Y/N] [L/N] and her mesmerizing beauty.