Nat x Wanda x Yelena One Shots

Deep Water • n.r.

This shows what the Avengers do to help you and all of the things you've been through.
I'm going through something so bare with me as the Avengers are the only thing I feel I can connect to, and unfortunately their not real.
Listen to this song while you read on repeat, honestly makes the chapter.
[Reader...]

Wanda...
I ran as fast as I could as I tried getting to my dad before the enemies could.

My lungs burned, begging for me to stop and let my heart rate slow down, but I couldn't. I needed to save him.

I used my knives to slash through my enemies, using the ends of them to butt them in the head before cutting them at the stomach, running again.

I was almost there.

I could have made it.

I was taken back from the blast a head of me. The same blast that killed my father on impact.

"No... no!" I screamed not caring about the cuts and bruises that now littered my body. I ran faster finally getting to him, too late.

"Dad... daddy. P-please... daddy... I need you." I cried trying to wake him up. Wanda landed by my side taking my head into her hands as she tried her best to calm me down. My father looked asleep, but his face peaceful. No, emotionless. Like there was nothing inside his head any longer.

"Daddy... please." I sobbed.

Wanda took me back to the compound, she helped me clean up, and took me to my therapy sessions. She stood by my side no matter how many times I screamed at her to leave me alone.

She never did.

"For fucks sakes Wanda, fuck off!" I screamed throwing a pillow over my face to block the sound of her voice.

"Let's go."

"I told you no already."

"And I told you, I don't care, already. Let's go." She said, she used her magic to quickly get me dressed without the use of taking off my clothes. She even forced me up and outside to the porch of the cabin she owned.

Lemonade in my hands, raspberry. My favorite.

The sun did feel good on my face, and I did feel a lot calmer than before.

"How do you even own this?" I ask

"Tony allows me to use it, he knows there are times I need to meditate." She looks at me, I nod.

"Want to talk about it?" She asks

"Nope."

"When... my papa died, I felt a lot like you did. Despair, anger, sadness mostly. I had no time to recover— no outlet. But you do, for when you are ready to accept my help."

"And what makes you think I need help?" I ask looking at her, she smiles.

"Everyone needs help." She said before taking a sip of her own drink looking out to the sunset. I looked down at my cup before also looking at the sunset.

"And that doesn't make us selfish to need or ask for it, or to even want it..." she said not looking at me.

"How do I know the help that I need is working?" I ask