Marvel Women Oneshots

Our Last Dance *WM*

Warnings: No happy ending, Sick Reader, Car accident, Death
Smut(Blurb): Fingering (W), Marking(R/W)
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| Puny | Powerless | Weak |

The same set of words you'd repeatedly heard in your youth; every single time you were looked over by prospective parents, or picked upon by the other kids in The Red Room—the orphanage, it was just affirmed in your mind.

A tragic start doesn't necessarily equate to a bad life though, because after five years of being alone in there you'd found your saving graces in the delinquent labeled pair of Russian's that had been ruthlessly dropped off by another set of useless parents.

Natalia Romanov—the buff redhead with piercing green eyes, she was twice your age, nearly double your size, and the older of the two girls; Yelena Belova—the quiet blonde, eyes of varying shades, she'd appeared lean under her monotone attire, but much to everyone's shock she packed quite the punch.

They were blank faced when they'd arrived, their eyes full of mystery, and a deep rooted pain that's expertly masked to the average onlooker. Silently they'd observed you, a shocking sense of pity consuming them when saw you being mistreated by all parties.

Though they felt bad they kept their distance, never engaging in such bullying tactics, but also regretfully turning a blind eye to it. It wasn't until one of the boys—Brad, had attempted to pick on Yelena while Natasha was nowhere to be found that they took you in. Sure she could handle herself, but you weren't aware of this, so when the irritating boy had approached her you'd immediately intercepted. He'd pulled on her braid, and in an act of childhood bravery you'd shoved the boy.

"Oh, if it isn't little old Y/N, the unwanted one. Beat it would ya!"

Stuttering as you do, you responded to the boy,"Leave her alone Brad!," puffing your tiny chest out to appear tough, but falling short as you really just looked beyond adorable.

Yelena had never heard your voice before, it was an equal match to your stature, you were soft spoken, there was also this innocence that carried your words, and in that moment the blonde felt it was her job to protect you from anything that could ever do you harm again. Natasha's response was much the same as she saw what happened from the corner, and as the boy went to approach you she followed suit.

Yelena was quick to yank you behind her body, but before she could lay the smack down on him Natasha already had him up against the faded walls by the collar of his shirt.

"Do not touch them, big mistake if you do." Her raspy accented voice filled the space around all of you, the threat glaringly obvious, and the fear it elicited even more so as the boy's eyes widened and his body scurried away once his feet were back on the ground.

Natasha turned to face her sister, glancing over her shoulder at you with a spine chilling smirk. With relative ease she lifted you up by your armpits, and settled you on her hip, "Welcome to the pack malen'kiy volk.," and from that day forward the words had reigned true.
(Little wolf)

When a burly man, and his petite counterpart entered the orphanage one day it was clear to you that your found sisters were likely leaving. The mans's loud, booming Russian accent a dead giveaway to you, plus the accompanying 'Do you have any Russian girls for us?' sealed it in. His wife had quickly slapped his arm, which immediately shut him up, then in her clearest way she'd said much to the same effect, but in a way less creepy way.

Natasha and Yelena had been playing a riveting game of 'Arm Wrestling for chocolate,' which was really just their way of taking candy from the cocky little boys while also knocking them down a few pegs. Neither of them had even noticed the couple at the front desk, but Yelena did however notice your saddened expression, and the sudden flow of tears soaking your pillow while your frail body lay atop the cot.