This Just Made My Heart Warm …

Definitely do

if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

Yo… this was by far one of the BEST Ramonda fics I’ve ever read. And I need more. Y’all need to come get u one of these

King

queen! Ramonda x king! reader

“Your Highness-”

“King. Do not be afraid to say it.”

Warnings: ANGST, explicit language, implied homophobia, mentions of misogyny and sexism, character death, gore, mentions of blood, violence, etc, ends in fluff

Word Count: 8.5k+

Tags:

@percsanej @k3nn3dyxo @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honeyy @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman11 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thvv @mbakuetshurisprincess @honey-teaaaaaaaaa @pinkcorns @takeyakii @yamsthoughtss @thethickersidee @shurisbathwaterr @shurismainbxtch @justariellovee @blackgirlfariyy @chocoflagcutiii @taiiunknownn @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson  @beautybyfire @pinkwrightt @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rosee @saintwrld @ilikegecos @shurismainbxtch @motheroffae @marsolgy @verachiii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @letitiamyevangeline @youralphawolf72 @biganimeweeb246 @vampzxi

Requested by: @mysteryofthe90s

A/N: Takes place in an AU where Ramonda marries reader instead of T'Chaka. Reader is of a royal bloodline and Wakanda is far less progressive than we see in our movies.

The request was literally just "reader gets kidnapped and Ramonda goes to any lengths to get her back", but of course I had to take that and run with it, but yall, I'm sooo freaking proud of this one and of the work I've been putting out recently. I hope you guys enjoy!

No greater love story exists than that of Wakanda’s rulers. 

King and Queen.

Bound together since childhood, she didn’t make a move without your hand intertwined with hers. 

She had a calculating young mind, moving about life like a chess piece in a game she was never to lose. 

Truly, Wakanda had no greater ruler than your queen. All the kingdom’s operations, all its policies were in her hands. Behind the scenes, nothing moved unless she did, not even you.

Her bronze eyes fluttered back and forth with apparent boredom. What others thought was her simply blending into the background, you recognized as profound observation. She stood, soaking in the fast-paced words of the elders far quicker than you could have imagined. 

Game plans came to play right before her with everything they tried to throw at you. 

This meeting was truly pointless, and it only called for you, but today was special, and you weren’t about to leave her out of any of the day’s events.

The elders were strategic. One fuck up on your behalf, that’s all it would take for the unforgiving geriatrics. 

“What do you foresee you are to do if the country is unsatisfied with a female as their sole protector?”

She saw the way your brows furrowed at the question. The corners of your mouth barely moved south, just a millimeter or two. You were growing frustrated with the hypotheticals. They’d been throwing them at you for over an hour now and it was taking the patience of a God to keep you respectful. 

You hadn’t ingested the heart-shaped herb yet, and you were sure telepathy wasn’t a power it would bestow on you, though you would see no use for it. King and Queen have been together so long, you’d become one- mind, soul, and body. 

Your pitch-black irises sparkled with fury, settling on her much softer ones. Her brown beauties extinguished the fire within you, even if only for a moment.

Words didn’t even need to be exchanged. You could hear her voice in your head loud and clear, though her lips remained sealed. “Control.”

Control yourself. Walk with grace. Handle your shit. 

The mantra flowed so smoothly through your mind. It was comical, how tired you’d grown of hearing it. She’d been repeating the same words, over and over and over again since you were adolescents. She found no other way to control your temper than that statement, so simple, yet so effective. 

“I do not believe my father left his throne for his daughter to be disrespected on, hm?”

Your distinguished voice led the elders to drop theirs to a mumble. What should have been complete silence at their King speaking were whispers instead. 

“Should’ve been a son-”

You couldn’t pinpoint who had said it. A disadvantage of not yet having the panther-like hearing. 

“And yet, it wasn’t; perks of being an only child. My father was proud to have a daughter, Elder. He brought me up as an heir, so that I may one day take over the mantle, both as king and as Black Panther, so with all due respect, hold your tongue.”

The smile may not have played across her face, but it danced behind her eyes. Your queen was proud; you so often attempted to ignore her when she vocalized what you did not want to hear, but clearly, you’d been listening. You spoke in such a way, the older aged Wakandans winced as though they’d been burned. 

“Your majesty, tradition states that you were to marry and-”

You did marry. She was right there in the room with you with the title of ‘Queen’ having been bestowed upon her for quite some time now.

“I did marry.”

And that was her cue.

With her head held high, the queen made her way across the board, past the onlooking pawns, through the bishops and rooks, not a knight in sight, straight to her place beside her King. 

What a handsome couple the two of you were. Her white dress contrasted deeply with your dark suit, creating a beautiful eyesore. Night and day, black and white, a menacing pair.

Though her head was absent of its crown, she stood beside you poised perfectly as though a line of string ran from her spine to the ceiling, holding it in the straightest of lines. 

“We mean no disrespect to the queen, however-”

They always mean disrespect, regardless of what they said. 

“Then I suggest you quit talking before I get disrespectful.” These closed-minded seniors could get your blood boiling like no other. Your voice wavered with anger, though your Queen’s steady words rang in your ears. “Control, my King.”

A deep breath was all it took for you to continue. “Our country is far more advanced than the small-minded council that attempts to run it. They reacted with enthusiasm when I took the throne after my father’s passing. They welcomed my Queen with open arms. I do not foresee them having a problem with my taking of the Black Panther mantle, just as my father did before me, and his father before him.”

Her hand rested on your shoulder before you could continue. To outside eyes, it was an empty gesture; to you, a hidden “well done.”

“Your Highness-”

“King. Do not be afraid to say it.”

Their hesitation proved that they were indeed, afraid to say it. The council continued to speak, your title not daring to utter from their lips. 

“What are you to do if they are not as welcoming to a female protector as they were to a woman King?”

All heads swiveled when it was not you to answer, but instead your Queen. “Do you see any reason why they would have a problem with it?”

What a funny sight, the view before you. Five ancient leaders, all mouths gaping like fish out of water. 

“Ramonda, the question was directed to the throne holder-”

Rage fueled you to your feet. “You dare speak her name, yet refuse to utter mine?”

Their cowardly forms sat silenced. Ramonda stood behind you, unfazed by your outburst, still standing straight and proud. 

“We are through here. Meeting adjourned.”

Hands intertwined as they always were, you and your Queen made for the door. You were through with this damn council, with these damn elders. How your father put up with it for so long, you had no idea. No wonder he’d rather the ancestors than this-

“Your Majesty, uh, King-” The word was spit from their lips like it hurt. “What are you to do if someone were to challenge you for the title?”

Truth be told, this question sounded more like a threat than a hypothetical. Your steps froze in place, your Queen standing just before you. “I shall fight for my title, council.”

They could hear your footsteps retreating from the room with an echo that could surely be heard across the country.

The giggle she let escape as soon as the throne room doors were closed was far too loud. The queen’s lips were pinned to your cheeks, pecking at your nose, your lips, your forehead.

It broke your hardened exterior, planting a too-wide grin across your cheeks. “Did I handle my shit, my love?”

“Yes, ukumkani wam (my King), you handled your shit.”

The waters rushing your feet were a good distraction from the loud chanting that came from the crowd of onlookers surrounding you. 

She stood at the front of it, baring a corset far too tight and a face of armor, both of which she’d expressed her hatred for. 

“Will this be long, sithandwa sam? This corset is very uncomfortable, and I’d like to get it off-”

“So long as nobody has the sense to challenge me, my love, this won’t be long, no. Then I can peel that corset off of you myself.”

You hadn't needed to see her cheeks redden to know your words caused her to blush. Even now, though she stood quite a bit away, you knew they burned with the wideness of her smile. 

The rocks beneath you were slick and admittedly hard to walk on. You truly prayed that this would be an unnecessary occasion, one that would go by uneventfully. 

The chanting ceases, producing an eerie silence. Zuri’s voice was booming, his royal purple robes being soaked at the hem due to the rushing waters. You stood, tall and ready, spear in one hand, shield in the other, with lightweight clothing adorning your figure. 

“Victory, in ritual combat, comes by yield, or death! If any tribe wishes to put forth a warrior, I now offer a path to the throne.”

“Yuh!” It was loud and resounding, coming from your furthest left. The members of the tribe ingested the call and threw it back into the crowd. “The Merchant Tribe will not challenge today.”

“Haye! The Border Tribe will not challenge today.”

“Ibombe! The River Tribe will not challenge today!”

Three tribes refused to challenge. Perhaps this would be easy after all.

“Aye! The Mining Tribe will not challenge today!”

Four down- one to go. 

“Mayafa!” His tribe doesn’t take the liberty of repeating him as the other tribes did. A silence passes over all Wakandans present. Your Queen is doing what she does best- observing. 

You can feel the uneasiness present in her bones as your eyes never leave the Jabari warrior. 

“Zakar, what are you doing?” Zuri’s usually thunderous voice is brought down to a whisper. He can’t hide the shock that rings in his words. 

“It is Challenge Day; and I, Zakar of the Jabari Tribe, wish to challenge for the throne.”

Gasps and murmurs sprinkle across the crowd. Between your pulled-together brows are anger and surprise as well. Even your calculating Queen seems thrown off. 

Zakar was nothing more than a muscle man with an ape-like brain to match his ape-like proportions. 

If it was a challenge he wanted, a challenge he would get. 

All eyes were on you as you stepped toward the brute. Shoulders squared and chest out, you stood as your father taught you to. “I accept.”

“My King-”

Bast-bless Zuri. His worry for you was not very well hidden beneath his aging features. He’d surely watched your father through his own Challenge Day, standing amongst him as a friend more than a mentor and it would be your will that he stand beside your own son or daughter for theirs as well.

“It is okay, Zuri.” His hands squeezed yours with a passing gesture as you stepped toward your newfound enemy. 

Nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye; Zakar showed no signs of intimidation. His breath was hot, his nostrils flared, and a disgusting grin plastered across his face. “Well, Princess?”

“King,” you corrected. “I am your King. And I accept.”

Ramonda’s breath caught in her throat. 

His facial armor was replaced and a weapon identical to yours was thrown into his hands. 

Your eyes wandered to his primate-like shape. He and you would have surely trained in different weight classes. His reach was much larger than yours and it would take quite a few hits to get him down. You didn’t want to have to impale him to get him to yield. 

You were sure, though, that he would not show you the same mercy. That spear of his weapon would pierce your flesh with no mercy and you’d be damned if you were to die in front of your Queen in such a brutal way. 

Someone grabbed her hand, but she wasn’t sure who. Everything around her went blurry, fading into a mess of colors. Ramonda’s only focus was you. 

How dare you accept such a challenge? The two of you hadn’t spoken of you fighting today and for you to just go and accept it- You were going to die. Zakar wouldn’t hold back; the larger man’s strength was what yours wished to be. He was going to kill you, for sure. 

How dare you take the chance to drop dead in front of your Queen?

The Dora Milaje and Jabari Warriors barely had time to take their stances before the blunt end of Zakar’s spear came swinging toward you. 

The ugliest sound echoed through the waterfall as your shield just barely saved your fate. His quick actions confirmed what you already knew- He would not be playing fair. 

Ramonda could feel every muscle in her body tense. She so badly wanted to jump in, to help you, save you, fight with you. You more often than not trained together; she was just as skilled as you were. 

And had it not been for the strange hand squeezing hers, she probably would have. 

Every swing, every jab, she followed. She waited, breathing ceased, for you to take the upper hand. His spear swung hard to your left, so you dodged right. He came at you with his shield, so you retreated. You couldn’t even pick up your own weapon, too busy escaping his. 

The edge of the waterfall grew closer and closer. The rocks beneath you held no grip and exhaustion filled your lungs. 

Zakar’s patience was dwindling. “Stop running, Princess.” 

Princess. That’s all you would be to them. A princess beneath her father, the true king. A princess who was handed the title and did not earn it. You were still that little girl adorned with bows and lace, and not Wakanda’s king who would bear the crown proudly. 

The elders saw it, Zakar and the Jabari saw it, hell you wondered if your people saw it as well. You didn’t have time to meet your Queen’s gaze, though you could feel it stuck on you. She was watching; she was always watching. 

Ramonda was watching, counting on you, rooting for you. She saw you as Princess and now she sees you as King. 

The flesh on your arm burned as Zakar’s spear sliced it open. The ivory color of your bone peeked through. It was the arm that gripped your weapon and it nearly buckled out of your hand. The breath was knocked straight out of your lungs when he followed up with a fist to your gut. Your scream pierced the air, fueling Ramonda’s body forward as yours fell to its knees. Several hands attached to several invisible bodies held her back, though they could not hold her tongue. “Sithandwa sam! Sithandwa sam-”

“I will give you a moment before I finish you, princess. Address your wife.”

Your eyes fluttered upward, vision blurry and hazed as it rested upon your Queen. “M-Mondie-”

Her loose curls bounced to and fro. No nicknames, no affection. Maybe later, but not now. 

“Zilawule, sithandwa sam!”

Control yourself, my love. 

Your gaze bore into her distressed features. Your lids were heavy and your arm hurt like hell, as did your ribs. 

“Hamba ngobabalo!”

Walk with grace.

Your head fell, eyes filling with tears that fell into the waters beneath you. 

“Ndijonge (Look at me) Y/n!”

“Ndijonge, sithandwa sam,” she begged, much softer. 

Your gaze was drawn away from the rushing waters and back onto your wife. 

“Phatha ikaka yakho.”

Handle your shit.

“I am your Queen, my love! That is an order.”

Every damn thing hurt when your injured arm moved to pierce the rocks under you. Your legs were shaky, barely able to hold your weight.

Zakar’s chuckle was booming. “You attempt to get up, girl? Fine, then. I’ll just knock you right back down.”

“Remind me to have you banished for the way you speak to your King, Zakar.”

“Banishment will not be possible when you are with the ancestors. Just ask your father-” 

Had he said it loud enough for everyone to hear, they’d surely react the same way you had. 

The roar that came from you was ugly, followed by the crumbling sound of Zakar’s mask as your spear came in contact with it. Your backhand swing had been too quick for him to foresee and the clay mask shielding his face broke into many pieces as it fell into the water. 

The headache that would plague him tonight would be one from hell. Your foot came in contact with his chest, barely knocking him back with the first kick, but succeeding on the second one. Thank Bast for the slippery rocks that you stood on; there was no way you’d have been able to get him down otherwise. 

His large body hit the ground hard and you could see the anger flickering behind his eyes. The blunt end of your spear almost broke with the force you used to shove it into his shoulder. You were prepared to pop the bone right out of its joint.

“Yield, Zakar.”

He stayed silent, stare never leaving you. Your weapon dug further into his aching body.

“Yield. I can not let you up unless you do, because I am certain you will not let me live, and if that is the case-”

Your spear flips, drawing the sharp end into his flesh instead. “If that is the case, Zakar, then I can not let you live.”

It feels as though the entire kingdom of Wakanda is holding its breath. Slowly, the sharp weapon sunk further and further, disappearing within his tissue. His face was contorted with pain, teeth-baring a grimace. “Yield, Zakar, before you bleed out!”

His eyes were animalistic, his voice low enough so only you could hear. “Is that not what you want?”

Zakar gave you no chance to answer. “I yield.”

In unison, everyone in the crowd breathed a sigh of relief. You felt a weight lift from your shoulders and nodded a ‘thank you’ to the warrior on the ground. “Take a deep breath.”

He did and in that same breath, remained silent as you pulled the spear from his shoulder. Zuri rushed over as the Jabari tribe picked their leader up from the ground. 

The pendant that your father wore on his challenge day, and his father before him was heavy, adorned with panther teeth as it hung around your neck. Your right hand was lifted into the air, fist up as Zuri’s deep voice declared “Y/N Y/L/N, King of Wakanda, and the Black Panther!”

Louder than any other screams and cheers was Ramonda, leading the chant, fist-pumping into the air. 

The chambers that held the heart-shaped herb were way too hot and way too dark. You wanted nothing more than to be in the presence of your Queen, your Mondie, promising that she’d be awaiting your return from the ancestral planes. 

You couldn’t ignore the impending feeling of doom as you lay down, arms crossed over your chest in a salute. The herbal drink had been prepared and it was your move as to what happened next. Zuri stood above you, placing the bowl to your lips as he spoke. 

“Allow the heart-shaped herb to bestow the powers of The Black Panther and take you to the ancestral plane.” The drink was bitter and burned like liquor as you swallowed. Convulsions wrecked your body as your system digested it.

“Azzuri, we call on you. Come here, to your daughter.”

The sand. That was the part you dreaded the most. It began to cover your body and you inhaled deep, thankful to breathe while you still could. Everything became muffled when the first grains hit your face. 

“Praise the ancestors,” Zuri’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

Everything was dark.

The gasp that came from you was desperate, as though you’d been drowning. Dirt surrounded you, and you willed your eyes to adjust to the low light. 

The garden you sat in was familiar. You hadn’t been in it in quite a while, but you’d never forgotten its layout. You stood, allowing the white garment you were clothed in to flow around you. 

It was instinctual, the way your feet led you to a bench in the far corner, concealed with desert roses and blue lilies. It wasn’t a surprise to see your usual place already occupied.

The gentleman wasn’t as old as he should have been to leave this life. He was dressed in white clothes of his own with a gentle smile greeting you as you approached.

“Baba-” You sat next to him, in disbelief that you could see him again, so alive, though he wasn’t.

“Uyenzile (You did it), intombazana yakho (my daughter).”

Your smile was bright, though your eyes were dull with the tears that threatened to spill. “I did it, Baba.”

“You are King.”

“I am King.” It hurt to get the words out. It was the only time you’d said it and truly fucking meant it. 

His shoulder pushed into yours, joy prevalent in his features. “Who did you have to fight, hmm? Who dared challenge the daughter of Azzuri?”

“Nobody at first. Then the Jabari made their entrance-”

Just as quickly as it came, his smile was gone. “The Jabari? Zakar?”

Your head bobbed. “Zakar.”

“Are you- were you hurt?”

You couldn’t look at him and tell him you’d gotten injured. You attempted to pivot the conversation instead. “I did it, baba.”

He wasn’t swayed. Your father was too smart a man. “Be careful, y/n/n.”

“Be careful? Of what? I won. I am King, I am The Black Panther; he can not challenge me again.”

His head hung, shaking slowly. “Tradition says he can not challenge you again.”

“As it says, then it shall be!”

“Ukususela nini, intomba (Since when, daughter)?”

Your silence failed to satisfy him. 

“Tradition says that when your mother and I had you, we were to conceive again, for a son, an heir.”

You didn’t want to hear him.

“Tradition says that when I died, you were to marry a man, and he was to be king.”

You didn’t want to listen.

“Tradition says that he- your husband- was to be the Black Panther.”

He knelt in front of you, grasping your hands in his own and squeezing tight. His hold on you caught you both off guard; neither of you could have fathomed a second chance at a moment like this. 

“You have broken tradition since you came out of the womb, y/n, my girl. And I am so proud of you for it. Wakanda needed to progress, and you-” His hand released yours, gently holding your cheek instead. “You are exactly what this country needs.”

Tears fall down your cheeks at your father’s hold. You embraced it, knowing that after this, you’d never feel it again. “Am I truly meant to be King, baba?”

“Have I not raised you so?”

Your bottom lip curled back into your mouth and your head nodded ever so slightly. “But heed my warning, my girl. Zakar will not take lightly being bested in front of the country, especially not by a woman. Especially not by my daughter.”

Your brows pulled together into a focused furrow. “I’ll be careful.”

His lips press to your forehead gently. “I know you will do wonderful things. You were born to do wonderful things.”

He stood and began to retreat. You panicked when his hand left yours, not ready to say goodbye again. “W-wait, Baba. Don’t go-”

“Eh? Y/n, what have I taught you?”

“Y-you said you’d never leave me, but-”

“And have I?”

Your hands outstretched to beckon the unfamiliar world around you. “What would you call this, Baba?”

His steps grew closer to you and his fingers lightly pierced your chest. “I have not left you. I am here.” His hands moved to your temple. “And here.” They moved once more to cup your face. “And here. You look just like me, you know.”

“Now go. Rule your kingdom.”

“Baba,” You hated the way your voice sounded, so whiny and helpless. “Ndiyakuthandana (I love you).”

He was fading away fast and you could feel yourself being pulled back to reality. His words were so faint, you thought you’d imagined hearing it. “Ndiyakuthandana, my girl.”

Zuri’s face was filled with worry when you shot up from beneath the sand, gasping in the dusty air that surrounded you. “Are you alright?”

You accepted the hand he was offering you, using it to stand. “Never bury me alive again.”

Night fall crept on the Wakandan horizon and Ramonda’s usually still mind was flooding with unease. The hem of her skirt swept the palace floors as she wandered aimlessly. 

It was such a large space for just the two of you and without you there, it was so quiet. Dora stood at every outbound door and while they shared her polite smiles, they didn’t speak. 

It had been hours since Zuri swept you away for the ancestral planes and while Ramonda was uncertain how long the private ceremony would take, something didn’t feel right about the seven hours you’d been gone. 

She was an hour into her mindless stroll down the same halls of the royal residence before it was abruptly interrupted. 

“My Queen, are you alright?”

Had they not spoken, Ramonda would have run them over. She blinked slowly, taking in the figure before her. She hated to admit she recognized neither the face nor the voice, yet she did recognize the armor; red and gold with beautiful neckplates and shoulder pads to match.

“General- I apologize, I didn’t see you there-” Her words are steady through the nerves that shake her being. 

“It’s alright. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you alright, your Majesty?”

Hesitation almost silenced the Queen. How would it appear that she be so disheveled and muddled?

But she needed help. There were many royal customs that were foreign to her and she had no way to navigate them. 

“General, has my wife returned from the ancestral planes yet?”

The worry Ramonda tried so hard to shove down resurfaced when the General’s face contorted to a look of confusion. “She left the planes hours ago. She was making her way back toward the palace last I saw of her.”

Ramonda’s legs almost gave out underneath her, but the composure she held was truly that of a Queen. “S-she left-”

“Has she not returned, your Majesty?”

Ramonda’s head just swayed back and forth.

The General was quick to turn on her heel with a brisk walk that the Queen struggled to keep up with.

“Qokelela (Gather)!” 

A sea of red poured into the halls, all heading toward the throne room. Dora Milaje, all with their spears drawn and their steps nimble. They were surprised to see the white crown among the swarm of bobbing bald heads. 

The throne room scarcely seemed large enough for the bodies that rapidly filled it. In the forefront stood the General and their Queen, heads held high through the dread that sank to the pit of their stomachs like cement. 

The Dora General was silent, awaiting Ramond’s orders. All eyes were on her and it was a feeling she was unsure she’d ever get used to. 

A deep breath steadied the rapid drumming of her heartbeat. Control yourself.

“General, around what time did you see my wife returning home?”

“1300 hours, your Majesty.”

“It’s going on 2200 hours now, ladies. I’m hoping this is just an overreaction, but really, I’m not sure. Go to the grounds, the tribes, the herbal garden, search even the castle. Bring my King home, please.” Walk with grace.

With a harsh tap of their spears on the stone floor, the room empties just as quickly as it filled. Only the General and the Queen remain and Ramonda feels the deep breath she was holding finally release. 

“Your Majesty-”

Many coily curls frame the young royal’s face and they bounce when her head shaked to and fro. “I will have to grow used to being called that as well, hm?”

“I believe so.”

“You won’t just call me Ramonda if I asked you to, will you?”

The smile that plays on the General’s face is sympathetic and she can see the idea form in the Queen’s mind before she even says it. 

“General, I am just Ramonda. Call me Ramonda.”

Pearly white teeth shine behind her dark smile. “Queen Ramonda, I am Esi. Call me Esi.”

“Esi, are you the first friend I have made here?”

“If so, then I am honored to be.” With a bow of her head, she begins to walk off, but not before Ramonda calls her back.

“Esi, bring me Zuri, please. And keep me updated. Once I have finished speaking with him, I will be joining you and your army in the search.”

“We’ve got the search covered-”

“I have no doubt that you do. However, I will be joining you regardless. I’m bringing my wife home.”

Zuri hadn’t expected to be awoken in the dead of the night, nor was he expecting the Queen of Wakanda to be awaiting his arrival.

“Your Majesty,” both of her hands fit in his like a glove and his tight squeeze is full of compassion. “What is the matter?”

Ramonda doesn't appear to be a spouse in distress. Every feeling of fear, or doubt or dread was unreadable on her features. “Zuri, my friend. Where is my wife?”

“Y/n? Is she not here?”

“She is not. She never returned from the herbal gardens-”

The older gentleman’s head shakes in disbelief. “She did. She had to have returned; where else could she be?”

“That is what I am trying to find out.”

A beat of silence passes between the two, unspoken thoughts swarming their minds. 

“Zuri-” The Queen hesitates, knowing that what she is about to ask is such a personal question. “Do you know who she saw? When she went to the ancestral planes?”

His nod is slow and sad. He can never hide how much he misses his old friend and Ramonda knows the answer before he even speaks it. “Baba?”

“Azzuri, yes.”

“Was it- Did she say anything about it? Did anything happen that would cause her to run away for any reason?”

“Not that she mentioned. You know how that girl was with her father; I can not foresee it having been a bad encounter.”

Ramonda is silent. It was a stretch that you would have willingly not return to her, but your genius Queen had to dot all her I’s and cross all her T’s.

“She did repeat something he told her-”

Ramonda was all ears, focused in on every word Zuri spoke. “What did she say?”

“He told her to watch her back. That Zakar wouldn’t take too lightly to having been defeated by her.”

An insincere chuckle left Ramonda’s lips. It was an ugly sound as anger flooded her body. The corner of her lips curled into a grisly pucker and Zuri scanned her face, interpreting her reaction.

“You suspected Zakar, didn’t you?”

“I did, however, as Queen, I can not go throwing around false accusations.”

“Is it a false accusation if you know it to be true?”

A sad smile looks so out of place on Ramonda’s mouth. 

“Zuri, you know how this works even better than I. I have no proof to accuse Zakar and I can not start a civil war with the Jabari that she will have to clean up when she returns.”

“If she stays in the hands of Zakar, that when will become an if.”

The cloak covering the Queen’s shoulders floats to the floor with a slight shrug. The crown atop her head is removed and underneath, her bountiful curls are braided tightly against her scalp. She’s stood aside long enough, talked long enough. Thoughts of bringing you home were all that played through her mind and the mountainside home of the Jabari tribe was her destination.

“I will not let that when become an if, old friend.”

Handle your shit.

She’d never stepped foot in the land of the Jabari before and was illprepared for the snow that coated the ground and the below zero temperatures. She realized it foolish to have come alone, and had she been in her right headspace, she would have realized it sooner. 

Eyes of the Jabari watched her from every direction and the entrance to a cave drew closer and closer. It was guarded well, by bulky men whose faces were concealed by gorilla masks. The opening of the cavern was blocked off as she approached.

“I need to see Zakar.” Though her body shivered from the cold temperatures, her voice remained steady and firm. The men didn’t budge. 

“Zakar is not taking any visitors. He is healing.”

Had smoke been able to come out of her ears in a cartoonish fashion, Ramonda was sure it would have. Her composure did not sway, nor did her expression change. “I need to see Zakar.”

One of the men bent to the Queen’s height, meeting her eye-to-eye. Her knees didn’t buckle and her gaze didn’t dare look away. “What did I just tell you?”

Ramonda’s set to respond, hell, she’s set to exile the whole damn tribe. A faceless voice breaks the tension between the two; the voice she’s there to see. 

“Let her in.”

It would have been a childish thing had she stuck her tongue out at the bruly warrior as he stepped aside to let her in, so she refrained. Instead, she walked through the wall of broad men, straight to the wide throne that held their awful leader. 

His thick brows were deep set on his eyes, weighing heavy on his face and his left arm and midsection sported a collection of white bandages. 

He didn’t look thrilled to see her and she mirrored the feeling. “My Queen,” 

How disgusting it sounded coming from his mouth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Your calculating Queen stood silent for a moment, scanning the room around her. It was cold, so fucking cold, with icy stares to match. Every corner held a warrior, equipt with armor and weapons. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the norm or if it was only due to her company.

“Zakar-” She hated how his name tasted, rolling across her tongue. “I think thanks are in order.”

“For what?”

“For giving us quite the eventful day. My wife couldn’t just take the throne that was rightfully hers and go about her way, hm? You had to step in and give us a challenge.”

“You are thanking me for getting my ass beat in front of the entire kingdom? And by a princess?”

Ramonda’s jaw was hardset and it took every ounce of control within her body to respond respectfully. “King. Your King.”

When Zakar stood, Ramonda couldn’t help the slight intimidation she felt at the way he towered over her. Her body took a step back without her permission and she cursed herself for it. 

“My king would have balls, your majesty-”

“It is common to want in a leader what we cannot have ourselves-”

Zakar laughed at her rebuttal and it angered the Queen. He continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. “You see me as the villain in your little happily ever after, but that is not the case. It is the other way around, honestly. You and your wife come in and shake up tradition, age old tradition. Excuse me for trying to put things back the way they should be.”

“Who is to say that is the right way and my way is wrong?”

Hmm, Zakar’s deep voice rumbles the entire cave. “Why have you come here, your Majesty?”

“I have reason to believe you have something that belongs to me.”

“Are you accusing me of thievery?” At his words, the Jabari soldiers in the room draw their weapons across their chests, armed and ready.

Your wife is quiet, choosing her next words carefully. Before she can get them off her tongue, Zakar speaks once more. “Let’s say I do have something of yours; I suggest you act tactically. You want this thing back in the same condition that I received it, do you not?”

That’s all she needed. That was enough proof, hell, it was a whole fucking confession. 

Ramonda stepped toward the gorilla-like man, not caring of the weapons that were pointed at her. 

“Unlike my wife, Zakar, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Her words were so low, the brutish man barely even caught them. His eyes were dark and angry when the Queen pulled away and began to retreat further into the snow, toward the cave entrance once more. 

“Leaving so soon, your Majesty?”

Ramonda’s middle finger was pointed to the sky, directed straight to the Jabari leader as her back stayed turned to him.

“Ramonda!”

The sound of her name bouncing off the stone palace walls caught her off guard. She hadn’t heard it be called in such a way since childhood. 

Her entire body swiveled to see Esi running straight toward her, anger dancing across her features.

“You’ve finally referred to me by my name-”

“You went to the Jabari tribe, alone?”

Ramonda winced at the General’s tone of voice. Her scolding was loud enough for outside listeners to pick up. “I did-”

“What were you thinking? They could have killed you-”

“They have her, Esi.”

Esi’s sigh was annoyed, her eye roll expectant. “Yes, your Majesty, we know that.”

The Queen didn’t have time to focus on the formal terms she and the General seemed to be back on. “You know?”

“We know. We have dozens of Dora surrounding their borders as we speak. We’re trying to find an in without jeapordizing her safety. We still do not know where in the land they are keeping her, though we assume its close to Zakar so that he may keep tabs-”

“Let me take lead on this-”

It would not have been possible for Esi to control the surprise that overtook her at the Queen’s declaration. “Let you what? No! Absolutely not-”

“She’s my wife, Esi-”

“And she is our King-”

“She’s my wife! Damned with your king, she is my wife, and I need her home.”

Ramonda was becoming emotional. The day’s events were catching up with her, as was the reality that you were laying cold somewhere in his midst, hurt or worse.

“Ramonda,” Esi’s voice was soft, her gentle hands grazing the Queen’s forearms. “We are trained for this; willing to die for this. We can not let you-”

“Esi, I hope you can still consider us friends after this.”

“After what-?”

“I am stripping you of your title as General. Step down. That is a direct order-”

“Ramonda-!”

“I am appointing myself General and-”

Tears swam behind Esi’s lids. “Your Majesty-”

Ramonda grabbed Esi’s hands and held them. She needed a deep breath to continue, fighting back tears of her own. “I will reinstate you, my friend. I am sorry, but I-” Her voice broke, and with the grace of a true Queen, she continued. “I must bring my wife home.”

The Dora Milaje stood in salute, awaiting instructions from their new General. Ramonda stood before them, silent with Esi on her right, face set hard with an emotion impossible to read. 

“The Jabari have Y/n.” This wasn’t new information to anyone in the room; they didn’t stir. Ramonda continued.

“We’re bringing her home, by any means necessary. We have suspicions she is being kept either in or just outside Zakar’s throne room. It is a cave covered in snow and ice and flooded with Jabari warriors who are just as willing to die for this as we are.”

Her eyes searched through the crowd. Staring back at her were various hues of brown, all armed, all ready. 

“We’ve already got the border surrounded; they know we’re coming and what we’re coming for. Get her out, alive.” The stress she put on that last word didn’t do justice for how much she meant it. Alive was the only option.

“Get me as close to Zakar as you can. I do not care if he gets out of this alive or dead; I will distract the ape man while you locate and retrieve the king. Understood?”

“My Queen,” Esi’s voice is quiet and still holds the authority it did before her title was stripped from her. “Aren’t we to get you out alive as well?”

The words were hard to get out, but Ramonda knew she meant them. “Get her out, alive,” she repeated. “If the King has been located and retrieved, then retreat.”

“Your Majesty-”

Ramonda’s clenched teeth were bared, displaying the force it took for her to echo herself. “Retreat.”

Nobody dared question her again and with a quick nod and cross of her arms, the Queen was satisfied. “Masihambe (Let’s go).”

It seemed as though the mountainside had grown colder since Ramonda was last there just hours ago. The Dora Milaje marched in step behind her, Esi at her side. The cave entrance was just before them, and it was blocked off completely. Jabari men and women stood, shutting off the cavern to the outside world and they didn’t budge when Ramonda approached. 

Nobody spoke, not a single word uttered. Their curved staff mirrored that of their leaders and they seemed angsty, ready for a good fight. 

“Shukuma (Move).” Ramonda’s voice was loud and declarative and still, they stayed. 

A voice even louder boomed over the brigade of bodies. “Let the woman through.”

Zakar’s men move at his command, but not before one of them tries to be ballsy. His staff swings for Ramonda’s head, just missing clipping her scalp before his weapon falls to the ground with a clank. The Queen turns just in time to see the spear of a young Dora fly through his thigh.

She can’t hold back her gasp when the large body drops to the ground, crying out in pain. Everyone is frozen, awaiting the move of another. The Jabari warriors let the weight of what just happened sit on their shoulders for a moment before preparing to attack. Another readies his staff to swing, preparing to rip the girl’s head straight off her body, but Zakar’s words keep him in place.

“Yibambe simile (Hold off).”

His men recollect themselves, reestablishing their blockage of entry to the cave. 

“Yiza,” His command is directed at Ramonda now, and she continues her trek to his throne. 

“Your Majesty, I was trying very hard to be nice. But you align your army at my borders, push your way into my home, and injur one of my men.” He rises from the wooden seat, staff ready in his uninjured hand. “I do not take very kindly to that.”

Ramonda doesn’t speak. Her eyes are on his movements, his actions. He’s slower to move on his injured side, which makes sense. It’s the side you impaled and he hadn’t allowed himself enough time to heal before starting shit with your kingdom. 

His right side, however, is much stronger; she has to guess it’s his dominant side. And though he may be damaged on the left, he had a room full of people to make up for his handicap. 

Realistically, it’s too many people. She’s unsure if the large army is due to the impending threat looming over everyone present, but it still wouldn’t make sense. They’re all huddled around his throne, not spread about where they could be more useful.

She takes a closer look at the large seat that Zakar refused to leave unattended. It was wide and tall, which wasn’t unusual, because of his size and stature. But why leave a wooden chair guarded?

Your Queen truly was a genius. It didn’t take her long to figure it out and when she did, it took everything she had to remain expressionless. 

“I do not take very kindly to kidnapping, Zakar.”

“There you go, making empty accusations again-”

The spear in Ramonda’s hand is itching to take out the gorilla man’s other shoulder. “I am not willing to play mind games with you, indoda embi (ugly man). Is this really something you wish to do? Cut the Jabari off from Wakandan resources and protection? Risk the greatest country in the world turning against you?”

“What good is the greatest country in the world if it is run by imbecils whom are incapable of-”

“What makes me incapable? What makes my wife incapable?”

The brute man is silenced.

“You and the elders of this country are so focused on what we have between our legs, more so than the minds we have. We have shown you no reason to doubt us, and yet you do because we are women? I thought we were supposed to be more progressive as a nation than that.”

Zakar is flustered, unable to find the right words and vocalize them.

“Tradition states-”

“To hell with tradition!”

“That is your problem, your Majesty-”

“Thula (Be quiet), Zakar.”

Silence once again. Zakar is frozen in place as Ramonda takes timid steps toward him and his throne. 

“To hell with your misogynistic, sexist, homophobic traditions. This is my kingdom now.”

She gets closer, ignoring the staffs drawn and pointing at her from every direction. 

“This is our kingdom now.”

The sharp end of her spear is pointed to the wooden throne. Ramonda has no doubt that the thick wood will give way with a stab or two of her vibranium weapon, but she’s worried. She doesn’t know how far underneath the piece you are and she doesn’t want to risk stabbing you. 

It’s a chance she’s going to have to take.

“This is our kingdom now!”

The first hit cracks the wood and debris fly back at her. The Jabari warriors surrounding the piece prepare themselves to swing at the Queen, but their hesitation is their downfall. The Dora outnumber them by hundreds and it only takes a second for their staffs to be pressed against their windpipes, holding them in place and out of Ramonda’s way. 

“This is our kingdom now, and we shall make new traditions!”

The second swing of the sharp object shatters the wood and splinters take the air. Zakar wasn’t expecting the throne to breakaway. His thick staff coming in contact with your Queen’s thigh release the gut-wrenching sound of bones crunching. 

Just as quick as he was able to get his hands on her, they hit the flood with a disgusting squelch. The bright crimson of his blood shines on the fresh white snow and his scream causes the entire cave to shake on its foundation. 

Where his hands once were are gorey blood and flesh. Esi’s spear is covered in the same blood that spurts from his body. 

You’re curled up in a hole underneath the space where Zakar’s throne once sat. Ramonda’s heart breaks to see you in the fetal position, unconscious and unresponsive. 

Her breath catches in her chest as she watches, waiting for yours to rise and fall. It does, but it’s so slow, that she worries it won’t continue for long.

It’s an agonizing pain, one that travels through her very being, trying to stand on her now broken leg. Her spear is used more as a crutch as she hobbled over to the giant, brought to his knees. 

“W-What did you do to her?”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Answer me, Zakar!”

Silence.

Esi’s still-bloody spear digs into the side of his neck, just enough to draw a fresh cut. “Unless you want your head to roll with your hands, I suggest you answer your Queen.”

His voice is strained when it finally speaks. “I did nothi-”

“Lies! She is lying here, unconscious! What did you do?” Esi’s anger mirrors Ramonda’s.

She turns back to your body, lying so still and quiet and the hole full of ice that you lay in. Her calculating mind goes to work once more. “Wait, Esi. Zakar, did she take the heart-shaped herb before you took her?”

“Took sounds so harsh-”

Esi’s spear presses deeper, drawing a steady flow of blood, causing the big man to change his words. “Y-yes, she had already taken it.”

“So she already had the powers of the Black Panther?”

“Yes.”

Ramonda nods, a sigh of relief escaping her. “She’s in hibernation.”

“Hibernation? Your Majesty, you’re telling me that if our protector experienced too-cold temperatures, then she’s down for the count?”

“No, Esi, not usually, but she’s been buried in a box full of ice.”

“Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Ramonda’s head points to you, her beloved, still curled into yourself. “Yiza,” she commands. 

While your army come and retrieve you from your frozen slumber, Ramonda hops over to a still-kneeling Zakar. She drops until they’re face-to-face, thankful to relieve some of the pain radiating through her leg. 

“I should have had them kill you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Ramonda is hushed. Why doesn’t she? He shattered her leg, took you prisoner-

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

Zakar’s eyes are filled with surprise as he drags them upward to gaze at the Queen sitting before him. He’s even more surprised to see hers full of empathy. 

“Come back to the palace with us. We have a lab, filled with doctors who can fix you and your injured men-”

“Why should I accept your help?”

“What other choice do you have?”

The sound of your voice is truly melodious to Ramonda. Her head spins and if her leg weren’t shattered, she would have run right to you. 

Your words were shaky as your body tried to regulate its temperatures. Dora surrounded you, wrapping you in the garments of their winter wear and as you stood on unsteady legs, they moved with you, every step. 

“You ought to be thankful of my wife, for showing you mercy. Had it been the other way around, I would have let Esi behead you.”

Her snicker could be heard from her place behind the Jabari leader. Ramonda’s eyes were on you and they refused to leave, too afraid you’d leave her presence again. 

“If you do not accept her offer to be patched up, you’ll surely bleed out here, will you not?”

He didn’t respond and you bent beside your Queen, lowering yourself to his level.

“Zakar, as beautiful as this red looks, contrasting with the white snow, I believe it best you accept.”

Silence.

“Well, unlucky for you, to have a stubborn King. Aye,” You called out to your army, awaiting their attention. “Mthathe (Take him), and his injured men too. Esi, notify the lab that we’re on our way.”

Ramonda was all too grateful when you scooped her into your arms, bridal style. Her arms fell into place wrapped around your neck and you held her close, tight, too afraid to let her go. 

“My Queen,” you greeted softly, rubbing the tip of your nose to hers. 

“My love,” the tears she’d been holding back for far too long finally spilled over and her hands moved to cup your face, pulling you close. 

“I see you handled your shit, sithandwa.”

Ramonda’s chuckle was full of relief and my god, it was such a beautiful sound to hear. 

“Yes, my love. I handled my shit.”

He is the most precious cinnamon roll and I shall protect him ❤️

Antonio: *eating a cinnamon roll*

The rest of the Madrigal family: cannibalism

Antonio: *confused chewing*

The last part got me. Like when did I ever mention a man?

Nat: So, what's your type?

You: Kind, redhead, dumb, good sense of humor

Nat: That sounds like me. Too bad I'm not a boy.

You: ...Did I mention dumb?

Nat: Yeah

You: Okay, just making sure.

Can we talk about how Bruno added his own plate to the table at dinner? Even in the walls he wanted to be there. He made sure they never saw the cracks but all he got in return is “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”.

GIVE MY RAT MAN SOME LOVE!

---

And R having to get Lily to realize it’s her mama. Olivia knows but wants to make sure her sister is okay before going be to Nat. 🥺

Imagining Natasha in WLWD getting a haircut because she feels it’s more her. Then she comes home and it completely startles Lily to the point she doesn’t even want Nat to hold her because it’s “different” and she’s not used to change

My brain and heart🥺

Y’all need to get into @natsxaddiction writing. I swear she’s great.

Room Chapter 1

Mama!Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Wanda Maximoff

Masterlist | General Masterlist

W/c: 3.9k

Summary: Held captive in an enclosed space for years, Former Avenger Natasha Romanoff devises a plan on her daughter’s fifth birthday to set them free

Warnings: sexual assault, kidnapping, violence, language, children conceived through sexual assault, angst, mentions of suicide, murder (just a lot of pain)

Note: Bringing this over from A03 for those that want to read

There was a shift in the comfortable silence that surrounded her peaceful slumber. The familiar buzzing of the refrigerator in a corner stopped just as she reached a peace that wasn't quite peace. She could hear the lock of a door and heavy footsteps trailing away. The solid crunch of leaves, or maybe snow, smashed against her eardrums as she waited for the silence to meet her again. Wide-eyed and alert she didn't dare move her face from under the covers. Didn't dare make a sound as the silence of the room captured her again. In the darkness of the night, she could just make out the shapes of furniture in her space. A room. She couldn’t quite tell these days if that’s what it was. Taking a shuddering breath, she pushes against the mattress with her hands just barely touching the springs through the thinness of the material.

He’s gone. Her left foot touches the ice-cold concrete below her. Then her right. Flexing her toes, she tries to ignore the dull ache between her legs. She tries not to scream out at the pain shooting up her spine. She doesn’t want to think about that now. There’s only one thing on her mind as she stands to her feet. The wardrobe leans against a wall just inches from the bed with only a nightstand keeping them apart. She tries her fingers along the faded wood feeling for the slight opening she’d left. Natasha pulls the door open gently and grabs what’s inside. It takes a minute to get a proper grip but she does lifting with what little strength she has and hoists the tiny figure into her arms. Chubby fingers grab at her before settling with a shushing sound to her ear. Natasha transfers the child onto the bed in a position closest to the wall. It groans under their weight. Long hairs tickle her bare arms nuzzling closer to her.

“Ma?” A tiny voice whispers.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” She whispers back. Climbing into the bed and pulling the child to her again she pulls the blanket just to their shoulders. She waits with bated breath for the girl to stir again but she never does. Natasha feels safer. As safe as she could in this hell hole.

Letting the sounds of her child's breathing lull her to sleep for a brief second she wonders if life will always be like this.

It’s the child who wakes first just a couple of hours later. Her eyes blink open quickly as she lifts her head to look over to her mother. With an excited whisper, she brushes her hair out of her face and pokes a finger into Natasha’s face.

“Ma, I’m five,” She smiles to no one in particular. It’s her birthday. She’s finally five. That’s a big number. Natasha smiles before opening her eyes. No matter how much she doesn't feel happy, there's a reason to be happy. The child smiling brightly at her brings her a sort of joy.

“You are,” She rasps, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m so old now,” The girl exclaims, relishing in the feeling of her mother against her.

“You’re such a big girl now, Myshka,” Natasha says into her hair.

“Yeah,” She agrees.

Guess it was time to get their morning started.

Natasha busies herself making their breakfast as the child greets her favorite things in their room. There’s a cheeriness that Natasha herself can't reach as she pours the boiling water into a bowl for each of them for instant oatmeal.

“Good morning, lamp.” The little girl touches each thing she sees. Clad in only a t-shirt and underwear she doesn't feel the cold breeze in the room. “Goodmorning, Dollie, good morning egg-snake.”She reaches under the bed to pull her craft out. They did that together a few months ago when Old Nick decided to bring them a Sunday treat. There’s a small plant on the nightstand she places it next to. The clink of the bowls grabs her attention and she comes to stand next to her mother. “Mama, I’m five now. So big right?”

“Yes, Myshka.” Natasha sighs. She drops a spoon into both bowls and guides the girl to her seat. She’d never sit down otherwise. Natasha takes her time opening a small ziplock bag and taking out the chewable vitamins. Two. She presses them into the child’s waiting hands. “Take your vitamins.” She instructs before pulling another small bag into view. Her own vitamins taste just as bad if not worse than the ones she’s had before. She doesn’t know exactly what they are but Old Nick promised her they were good for her. That they would help the both of them. She can’t say she trusts him but there’s no other choice.

Natasha takes a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth hoping that her actions would be followed. They are. She tries to hide the small groan as the pain inside of her mouth shoots through her. She was having a lot of pain these days. Green eyes look over at her curiously.

“Is it bad tooth again?”

“Yeah,” She nods. “It’s fine. Pain only makes you stronger.”

“That’s right. Just like Captain America.” The young girl nods in agreement. Natasha wants to roll her eyes at the mention of him. Her former teammate. Her former partner. One of The Avengers. She’d been one herself Once Upon a Time. One of the best if you ask her. She regrets letting her child watch that special on Avengers a year ago. How was she to know the girl would become obsessed with the team? America’s Greatest Heroes. It tasted bitter on her tongue. It was physically ailing for her to hear about them and how they moved on. As if nothing happened. As if nothing happened to her.

She gripped her spoon a little harder as she thought of the many times she’d watched the news and saw glimpses of their faces. Tony wasn’t seen as much anymore. He opted to live a life by the lake in upstate New York with Pepper and his daughter. Steve was rumored to be dating Sharon Carter. She remembers briefly the time she’d encouraged him to ask the woman out. He had been so adamant about being too busy to date. Guess that had gone out of the window. They even had a new person on the team. One they called Captain Marvel. Carol Danvers. She was good. If circumstances were different Natasha thought they might have been friends. That’s all over now though. If anything the mere thought is despicable. It disgusts her to think about them. She feels a bit jealousy every time she sees their faces on the small TV screen in the corner of their room.

How could she not? They never came looking for her. Never found her. Here she was six years in this place and there wasn’t even a mention of her. Not anymore. They didn’t know a damn thing and weren’t looking to. She’s suffered alone. Here in this god-forsaken place, she wasn’t an Avenger or an ex-KGB assassin or a former Red Room spy. She was just Natasha. Just weak and plain Natasha. Before here, before this room, before Old Nick, she would have broken someone’s nose at the thought of calling her weak. This room had broken her in more ways than one. Now she didn’t have a clue who she was.

She’s tried everything she could to break out of here but it all proved worthless. She’s tried fighting, picking the locks, sending messages in her trash, hell she’s even tried to break the skylight above their heads right now. None of it proved anything but the fact that she was stuck here. She didn’t know who had taken her or how she was taken. The entire ordeal is a blur to her.

She's on a mission. It was an easy in and out. She’d been on a level 6 multiple times before. She was keeping a steady communication with Steve and Maria Hill. There wasn’t anything to fear or worry about. She had completed the mission or so she thought. It’s a little unclear to her. Why were they there in the first place? Fury had given them leads to a new Hydra safehouse on his radar. It was supposed to be a quick raid. One minute she’s kicking some serious ass and the next she’d been knocked unconscious and woke up here.

In the beginning, she’d been handcuffed to the bed. A method she was all too familiar with from her days in The Red Room. Then he would come in. Old Nick. He would come in and make conversation with her. She was never very receptive to his play at friendliness. That was his angle. Get her to trust him. She was violent with him. Doing everything in her power to break him. She would find out who he was working with or working for if it was the last thing she did. He didn’t stutter once, only becoming increasingly hostile towards her.

One time, she was feeling particularly angry and had broken free of the cuffs only to be met with electrocution. Something she’d had similar to her Widow Bites. Only this didn’t immobilize her. It knocked her out. Left her in an almost catatonic state. He would push and push and push until finally, she stopped fighting. She stopped resisting. He would come as often or as little as he liked. He would take what he wanted and leave.

If there was an organization backing him she wouldn’t know. All she saw was him. All she could see sometimes when she looked at the little face in front of her was him.

No. Wanda was hers. Wanda was good. She is good. There was no fight left in her but for the little one in front of her, she would do whatever she could.

So she would make her birthday as fun as possible. Working with what she had was a strong suit.

“Hey, do you know what we’re going to do today?” Natasha set her spoon down. She wasn’t as hungry as she thought.

“What?” Wanda tilted her head. “More egg-snake?”

“No,” Natasha smiled. “We’re going to bake a birthday cake.”

“A cake?” Wanda gasped, sitting just a tiny bit straighter. “A real cake? Like from TV? Cuz’ I’m five?”

“Yep.” Natasha couldn’t help but share in her excitement. Wanda was good. She’s always been good. “It will have sprinkles and everything. We can start on it as soon as you’re done with your oatmeal.”

“Wow.” Wanda hurriedly got back to her meal scooping spoonfuls of oatmeal into her mouth. She couldn’t wait to make a real live birthday cake. She’d never had one before.

The rest of their morning went as planned. She helped Wanda to brush her teeth. Two minutes. Thirty seconds on each side. Then it was time to pick out their clothes. They didn’t have much. Just what Old Nick would bring them for a Sunday treat. She found the first clean shirt available and helped Wanda out of her old ones. She listened to the chattering of the five-year-old as she raised her arms.

“Mama, do you think my cake can be red, blue, and white?” Wanda’s voice was muffled as the shirt was pulled onto her head. “Like Captain America?”

“I don’t know, Myshka.” Natasha passed her a pair of pants. Wanda was always firm in her choice to do this part herself.

“Well, I hope so.” Wanda almost falls to the floor as she attempts to put a leg into the jeans. Natasha’s steadying hand prevents her from doing so. Wanda pushes a stray hair out of her face as she sucks in her belly and uses both hands to button her pants. Raising her hands again, she smiles. “See, Mama, I did it.”

“You did it.” Natasha bops her nose. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I think it’s because I’m five and I get superpowers.” Wanda grinned. Natasha knew it was just Wanda being a child but the idea of her having superpowers felt all too real. It felt all too haunting. Too much of a reminder of the life she was missing.

With a pat on Wanda’s head, she moved to the other side of the room. Their bowls were tossed into the sink. Natasha flipped the nozzle to the tap water and began to scrub them. She could hear the click of the TV being turned on and the Dora the Explorer theme song reached her ears. Wanda would be distracted if only for a little. She went about her day scrubbing the floors and keeping her area clean. Not once did Wanda turn to her to ask a question. The mini redhead is too enthralled by the actions on the screen.

“Okay, time for morning stretch and measure.” Natasha clapped her hands. Wanda scurried across the room closer to the door. The only door leading to the outside world. She leaned her head patiently against the wall and looked up. Natasha used a dull pencil to scratch Wanda’s height into the frame. She couldn't quite tell the exact numbers but there was some growth there.

“Mama, I am taller.” Wanda cheered. “I think it’s because I’m five now.”

“You are,” Natasha agreed. That’s how a lot of their conversations went. Wanda was more enthusiastic and fresh. Everything in life was new to her. It was all a wonder. Even getting taller. Their stretching went off without a hitch. Natasha was more of an instructor as she avoided overexerting herself after last night. After what he did. Wanda was compliant as she went into a downward dog. Her giggles were music to Natasha’s ears as she tried to keep her balance. Her long locks brushed the floor in a puddle of red. Finally, Natasha poked at her gently until she fell over.

“Mama, no fair.” Wanda smiled from her place. Her arms coming up to her chest as she pulled off the cutest pout one had ever seen.

“No fair?” Natasha raised a brow. “No fair is you using my own pout against me. I invented that pout.”

“Nuh-uh,” Wanda shook her head.

“I did,” Natasha challenged her. “Now do you want to argue further or do you want to make a cake?”

“Cake, cake, cake!” Wanda scrambled to her feet. She followed Natasha around their small kitchenette. Natasha gathered the ingredients from the fridge and set them all on the table. It wasn’t necessarily a homemade cake but they were working with what they had. She listened to every instruction given to her. Making a cake was so much fun. She was even allowed to crack the eggs into the bowl. Next was the butter. A solid block thick and creamy.

“Butter!” Wanda cheered as Natasha flipped over its container and allowed it to drop into the mix of eggs and the rest of the batter. She attempted to smash it down to mix but was met with a bit of resistance.

“Why don’t you handle some of that, baby.” She allowed Wanda to take the reins of mixing. In an attempt to play it off she stepped back and shook at her wrist. It had never been the same since she’d broken it in a fight with Nick. A lot of her body wasn’t the same anymore. Wanda was all too happy to take over. Once the batter was finally finished Natasha took over the baking part while Wanda worked to clean their dishes. She was an efficient helper and didn’t complain one bit.

Finally, after waiting what seemed like a billion years, the cake was ready. She waited in her seat with a hand over each eye as Natasha carried the cake over to her.

“Okay, Myshka, you can open now.” Natasha crouched down to be eye level. She used a small lighter with just a bit of fluid to light the dollar store candles on the cake. Wanda opened her eyes excitedly, wiggling just a tiny bit in her seat. She counted the candles slowly, her smile quickly fading away from her face.

“There’s five,” She whispered dejectedly.

“What’s that?”Natasha questioned. She wasn’t clear on the apparent shift in Wanda’s demeanor.

“There are not ten candles,” Wanda pointed to each one with a frown. “There has to be ten. For me, and for Pietro.” Oh. Natasha’s heart stopped for just a second. Pietro. Wanda’s twin. Her other child. She sometimes tries to forget that there were two of them. She’s surprised that Wanda remembers.

Natasha sighs. She’d been thirty-four weeks pregnant when she’d gone into labor. A miracle that she hadn’t known was possible and yet there she was. In the room all alone giving birth on the very same bed they sleep in now. After begging and pleading for Nick to take her to a hospital she’d given birth and delivered her babies on her own. Only expecting one, she was pleasantly surprised when she had given birth to a second. She remembers holding a wailing Wanda in her arms and feeling the need to push again. She took matters into her own hands and cut the umbilical cord with dull scissors in anticipation for the second baby. She would set aside a newborn Wanda as she bared down with her own scream. Only this time she wouldn’t be met with the soft wails of her second child. She was met with silence. Pietro, she decided to name him, was born still with his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Natasha remembers that day as if it were yesterday. How she attempted to feed one newborn and mourn the other at the same time.

She would carry and hold a still Pietro in her arms in an attempt to keep him warm for six hours. It was six hours before Old St. Nick visited her again. He would proceed to rip the baby from her arms with the broken promise of burying him somewhere safe. She still doesn’t know if he kept his promise.

So she moved through the next five years raising Wanda as best she could. She raised her as one half of a pair she didn’t know she could ever have. Some days Natasha would question it. How she’d been able to conceive and give birth to a child. Two children. The Red Room had made sure this wasn’t a problem. Or so she thought. Children weren’t even a thought in Natasha’s mind before being trapped here. Now being here with Wanda she couldn’t think of anything else. She kept Pietro’s memory alive for as long as she could for Wanda. Over time she stopped talking about him so much with the pain of his lifeless body still fresh in her mind.

Here she was with her five-year-old opening wounds that were never really closed.

“Wanda, there wasn’t enough for ten candles,” She says gently. From the wobble of Wanda’s bottom lip, she could tell that if this situation went wrong there would be a huge problem.

“You said birthday,” Wanda moans. “That means me and Pietro. Candles for two. Not one.”

“Wanda,” She sighs. How in the world was she supposed to explain this to her? “It’s still a birthday cake for you. I think that we should celebrate and you can pretend that they’re for Pietro too. How does that sound?”

Wanda looks down then back up as if she has the brightest idea in the world. “You should ask Old Nick for more candles for Sunday treat.”

“Wanda, it’s Monday. We would have to wait six more days-”

“So,” Wanda pushes.

“Your cake would be old and we wouldn’t be able to eat it.” Natasha realizes that her attempts to reason with a five-year-old would be futile. “Why don’t we blow out the candles and try the cake?”

“No,” Wanda frowns. She doesn’t want to do it this way. Mama always used to tell her she and Pietro would share the same birthday. Even if he wasn’t here, why shouldn’t they share the same cake? There had to be ten candles. Then they could say goodbye. It’s how they did it in the movie on TV. When someone died they said goodbye or said a prayer or had a funeral even. Pietro didn’t get any of that. Why couldn’t they do it now?

“Come on, I know you’ll like it, Myshka, go on try it.” Natasha urges her again to try the cake.

Faster than she can react Wanda lashes out angrily “I said NO!” and the candles are blown out without either of them realizing how. Natasha takes a deep, deep breath. Wanda lets out a whimper and a whine. It wasn’t like Wanda to raise her voice. Tears of frustration pricked Natasha’s eyes as she pulled Wanda into her embrace.

“Wanda, Mama, doesn’t like it when you yell.” Natasha chastises. “I know you're frustrated but this isn’t how we act.” She feels Wanda nod against her.

“Next week, when I turn six, ask for more candles,” Wanda whispers brokenly.

“Next year,” She corrects her. Next year. She couldn’t imagine being in this place one more year. Looking up, she notices that the small piece of sky she can see through the skylight is clear. Next year will be different, she's sure of it.

Hours later she’s sitting in the tub with Wanda, the candles and the cake half-eaten and their crisis long forgotten. She doesn’t hide her naked body and neither does Wanda. She doesn’t know any different. She takes a bit of the soap from the edge of the tub and lathers it in her hands to wash Wanda’s hair. It’s not shampoo and it certainly isn’t the best soap but she’s clean. Wanda giggles as she swirls their clothes around in the suds of the water. It’s the only way they’ll get clean. It’s an odd thing to do but after having a bit of practice she doesn’t think twice about it.

They don’t get much in here. Natasha doesn’t know much about what’s out there. She allows herself to wonder again if Old Nick is working alone. If so, he’s pretty damn crafty. She wonders if he has some kind of camera set up to watch her. Watch them. She looks around the room. If there was anything she’d have found it. She’s searched the place so many times and found nothing. The slosh of water brings her back to reality as Wanda hisses.

“Soap in my eye,” She rubs furiously at them. She turns to Natasha for help.

“No, don’t rub,” With one of their articles of clothing, she takes it and helps to clean the soap from Wanda’s eye. “There, all better.” She says. Wanda’s wide green eyes meet hers.

“All better,” Wanda repeats.

The idea comes to Natasha when she and Wanda are cuddled in bed. Wanda is pressed against her with her face pressed into Natasha’s breast as she suckles gently. Realistically, Natasha knows she should be weaned by now. She knows breastfeeding a five-year-old is an insane amount of time. She’s not ready to lose the connection. She’s not ready to take away the one thing that always brings Wanda comfort. Not yet.

So as Wanda contently falls asleep at her breast releasing her nipple gently from her mouth Natasha comes up with a plan. They were getting out of here. One way or another they were getting out of here.

They would be free.

Pt 2.

Please reblog if you think that “they/them/theirs” is a valid set of pronouns.

this post must be reblogged by everyone

Honestly wouldn’t mind as long as I can bang you back.

Y/N: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Wanda : Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Y/N: I—

Y/N: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

Why is this so true tho … well there women Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff and Luisa Madrigal

Y/n: I’ve come to a conclusion—

Yelena: Oh my god.

Y/n: I would give away my life for two woman, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff.

Yelena: Second gay confession in one hour. New record.