˗ˏˋ romanogers oneshots ˎˊ˗

mirror magic

Natasha's mascara had run, her eyes were puffy. "You're pathetic. Love is for children." She mumbles, reciting the words she had once heard years ago and thought that she had put them behind her, stored away and never to be said again. But here she was, alone in the world, with no one by her side. It was like her Red Room days, only much worse. "You should have known better you fool. You are bad luck. Everywhere you go, someone dies."

Steve Rogers had died from his injuries which he had sustained from rescuing her on a mission. And the worst thing was, she loved him, but did not have the courage to say it while he was alive. He was the one that put her together, he was the one that was always there for her, he was the one that patched her broken tapestry, he was the one who saw the truth in her in her mistakes, rebounds, and earthquakes, he was the one who was there for her at 2am when she called, and most of all, he was the one. The simple gold band on her finger was when he had proposed a few months ago. Using all her remaining strength, she pushes her fist forward with force and collides and smashes into the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces, like her heart already has.

As she looks down at the tiny pieces of her reflection staring back at her on the cold tiled bathroom floor, the strangest thing starts happening to her mirror. When she looks up, it looks like a normal mirror again, except that all the glass pieces are shattered on the floor.

No way. She had heard about this before, but she had assumed it was just some old Russian fairy tale told to children. She thought that it was her stress causing her traumatic past to resurface. Apprehensively, her hands reach up to touch the mirror. Instead of the cool glass surface, her hand is greeted with a warm tingling sensation. It cannot possibly be true. But the fact that it was right in front of her could not be proved otherwise.

Without warning, her hands are suddenly sucked into the mirror. She struggles to pull them out, but her failed attempts only cause the phenomenon to suck in more of her. She screams and her world turns to darkness. When she regains consciousness, she is falling down a dark passage, with nothing but echoes of the voices in her head, her thoughts, and her pasts. They were all back to haunt her. It has to be another nightmare. There is no other reasonable explanation for this.

"I am very real. Trust me. I can make all your unpleasant memories fade away. You can be happy again. You can have all your wishes come true at the snap of your fingers. You just have to close your eyes, imagine and believe and all your wishes will come true, Natasha."

She struggles to find something she really wishes, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking hard. The first thing she desires slips out without warning. "Steve."

Suddenly she is being tossed around, and she finds herself waking up in a bed, next to the man she loves the most, holding a tray of breakfast.

He leans over to kiss her on the cheek. She smiles. They do not exchange words and it's very strange. He sets down the tray next to her and pulls out a bouquet of flowers from behind him. Cliche, and very strange indeed.

Shocked, she leaps up and runs to the bathroom, somehow hoping to find closer from... the mirror?

"No." she whispers as her fingers brush against the mirror, and she looks at her reflection is disbelief.

Her world turns dark, and she bolts up, opening her eyes and finds herself next to Steve again, this time, in a plane, on the way to a mission in Croatia.

She looks out the window of the plane, seeing her reflection in the glass panel. The last time they were on a mission, Steve had risked his life to save hers, and died. She could not deal with that, not again.

"No."

This time she was seated in a classroom, the flag of the Soviet Union hanging on the wall, Russian words scribbled on the blackboard, a picture of Steve Rogers in her textbook, annotated in Russian. She glances at the reflective panel separating the classroom from the ballet studio.

"No."

She found herself at the altar in London, the same one where she had met up with Steve so many years ago in secret to comfort him for the death of a friend. "I didn't want you to be alone." But here she was, all alone. She peers into the casket and see's Steve, eyes closed and peaceful and screams.

"No."

She finds herself yet, once again, facing him. This time however, she can hear his voice yelling at her. A lover's tiff. If this is not a nightmare, what is? She catches a few words tossed out of his dirty mouth without thinking and holds the urge to yell "Language!" It slips out without her knowing. He glares down at her and rolls his eyes. Oh, shoot. His piecing ice blue eyes have turned dark blue, and she does not know whether it is a sign of lust, anger, or some magic. Afterall, everything was possible. She sees a reflection of her terrified face in the gleam of his eyes and whispers the word that she hopes might help her escape this.

"No."

She finds herself once again spiralling out of control, both figuratively and literally. One because her emotions are all over the place and the other because she is literally back in the dark tunnel she first found herself in. "Take me home please," she pleads.

The voice lets out a cackle. "Are you sure? You wanted to be happy. I gave you everything you wanted."

"The last scene-"Natasha protests.

"Sorry for that slip up, it was an accident," the voice reassures. "I can bring you back and give you a better reality."

"Who are you?" Yes, the miracle question which she should have asked ages ago.

A purple smoke appears, and Natasha finds herself standing before the mirror again, which is now suddenly all fixed up, with no sign of brokenness. Unlike her heart. The same purple smoke appears in the mirror and a dark-haired woman walks out of it.

"The name's Agatha Harkness, lovely to finally meet you dear." She says as her locks blows in the wind.

Natasha looks at her, still confused.

Agatha smiles. "I'm a witch. I control the mirror and read the thoughts of those in front of it. You wanted happiness so I tried to give it to you. But when it seemed like nothing would appease you, I tried to think of something, but I slipped up and here we are."

"A witch? Like in the darkhold?" Natasha asks, eyebrows raised. She had seen the book lying around where she worked and could not help but take a read.

This time, it was Agatha's turn to be taken aback. Only witches and wizards and people of supernatural causes had the ability to read the contents of the book. How could Natasha, a regular human read it? Unless, she had some unknown power neither of them were aware of.

Another cloud of smoke appears and Natasha turns around to find Agatha gone.

She is once again standing in the bathroom, the mirror is indeed broken, glass is shattered on the floor. She touches the mirror once again and is not met with a force this time, but accidentally cuts herself on the glass shards. Blood trickles from the wound and drips down onto the white tiles, staining them ugly, like the red in her ledger.

She deserved it. She deserved all of it. His death, her insanity. As she stared at the puddle of blood on the floor, a representation of her past, her breathing quickens, and her heart starts racing. Steve would usually be there to stop her panic attacks, to hold her and whisper words into her ear, stroke her hair and tell her that everything would be alright. But now that he was dead, she would never experience that ever again. There would be no one to pull her out of her dark place anymore, she had to face it alone. And she feared she may never love again.  

A/N: fantasy week yayy also erm i included wv in this so like hshsgsvshs