Disavowed: A Call of Duty Fanfiction

Chapter 23: Natasha

.:WARNING:. brief descriptions of sexual assault and suicide ahead. Reader discretion is advised.

Her name was Natasha. A gorgeous blonde from Siberia with ruby red lips and piercing grey eyes, and skin as smooth as porcelain. She and Makarov met by chance on a street corner shortly after Zakhaev promoted him, and they quickly became smitten with one another after a meeting over a cup of coffee. He was ambitious and powerful, she was supportive and complimentary. Hardly any time passed from that beautiful summer day, and they were joined at the hip, one hardly ever seen without the other.

Natasha was seated at the window of the estate and she smiled as Vladimir came up behind her, an arm looping around her small waist and his other hand gently holding her neck, tilting her face up for a kiss. "Mmm, are you leaving me?" she teased.

Vladimir laid his chin on her neck, humming contentedly as her fingers ran through his black hair. "Just for a little while. I wouldn't mind working from home, though..."

"Well, maybe you should." She pulled his face down a little closer and kissed his cheek. "I don't like missing you so much."

He looked up to see Victor walking down the stairs. The young- well, younger, Zakhaev had a cigarette in his mouth, lighter in hand, and he briefly turned his eyes to them, glancing at Natasha. "You're heading out soon?" he asked.

Vladimir nodded. "Yeah, Yuri is waiting for me. I should get going." He kissed her one more time and slipped out the door. "I love you, Nat!"

"Love you, too, Vlad." Natasha blew him a kiss and the door closed. She turned back to the book in her hands but felt oddly distracted by Victor's presence in the room. She looked up at him and tilted her head. "Everything alright, Victor?" she asked.

He watched Vladimir and Yuri get into the car and drive away, letting the curtain drift from his hand. "Yes, yes, of course," he said. "Just watching."

She shot him a sarcastic smile. "Now, now, only I get to ogle his ass as he walks away."

"Not a chance. He's not my type anyway," Victor retorted.

"Well, what is your type? I have yet to see a pretty piece of eye candy on your arm."

He shrugged, swaying on his feet and taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. "Oh, you know, about yea tall..." He gestured to the height of his shoulder. "Slim, sexy, diamond-radiant smile..."

"Come now," she said, closing a ribbon in the spine of her book. "You're just describing me." She flashed him another smile and he looked away with a sheepish grin. "Ah, don't worry, Vic, we'll find you a girl someday. You just need to play more and work less."

He rolled his brown eyes with a scoff. "Yeah, I'll bet that would go over well with father." Victor sighed and sat down on the chair opposite her. "But in the meantime, I'll take your company."

"Don't let my boyfriend hear that," she said, squaring to him. "All this talk and no drinks. Why don't I fix you something?"

That night, she was curled up in Vladimir's bed, hugging his pillow to her chest so she could smell his scent on the pillowcase. She was missing him badly. Oh, how she craved his strong arms around her and his gentle kisses on her face throughout the night.

She thought she heard the door open. Nat strained her eyes through the dark and saw the distinct outline of Victor in the vague light of the hallway. "Vic?" she whispered. "Everything alright?"

"Just nervous. I'm going to a meeting soon, and after what happened to father, I'm worried," he replied. "Can I talk to you for a little while?"

Nat sat up and scooted over, patting the bed beside her so he could take a seat. "What happened to Imran was a freak occurrence. I understand your fear, though. I would hate to think someone would come after you next."