blackhill + multiship oneshots

this might be a mistake (peggynat)

prompt: the picture above. it doesn't even relate to ca:tws but i just thought fuck it, imma make a peggynat story with peggy as cap.

warnings: men being ew, smut, choking, marking, scratching *wtf is wrong with me*

. . . . .

The party was in full swing as night fell over New York City. People danced, music played, stories were shared. A gala was the perfect time for them to make their move.

"Captain. Do you have eyes on the target?" Maria Hill spoke into her earpiece, watching from cameras bugged inside the room as she took a sip of her whiskey and glanced around the room subtly.

"Negative." Peggy replied, glass raised to her lips as to not raise suspicion. "I have to admit, I'm loving this suit. It's much more comfortable than tight-fitted, army issued skirts or plunging neckline dresses that cling to me like a second skin."

Since Peggy stood at 6"4 with arms big enough to crush tanks, she opted not to be the one to initiate contact with the target, since he was a known misogynist and would be too intimidated by the way she towered over him. She leaned against the bar, brunette hair styled to shield her face from any onlookers afar, in a tailored black suit that fit her form well, one hand stuffed in her pocket holding an emergency widow bite.

"Glad we could help." Maria smiled. "And yes, I agree with everything you just said."

"I beg to differ. These 'plunging' neckline dresses can get me into or out of any situation I want." Natasha interjected over the comms.

Peggy turned slightly to Natasha's position; opposite the bar, at the red leather sofas. She sat poised, glass of champagne in hand, in a gold dress that accentuated her cleavage and ended around her mid-thigh. The Captain cleared her throat and diverted her attention to the entrance, although her staring didn't go unnoticed by the widow.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Natasha smirked, her playfulness evident in her tone.

"I don't know what you're insinuating."

Before Natasha could rebuff that pathetic excuse, they were alerted by Hill.

"The target has entered the building and is now moving towards the bar. Romanoff, you need to initiate contact and get him to follow you outside. Cap will take care of the bodyguards and we'll have backup on standby if anything goes wrong. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

Natasha set her champagne glass down on a counter and strutted through the crowd, shooting Peggy a quick glance as she approached the target.

His name was Aleksander Mendeleev and he was a prominent demolitions dealer in the Soviet black market. A couple weeks ago, SHIELD caught wind of rudimentary recreations of Stark weapons appearing and tracked the creator(s) down, but he disappeared before anyone could even draw up a warrant to break into his home. The only reason he was attending tonight's gala was simply a want; a sexual want to take a beautiful lady home.

And Natasha was perfect at acting like the dream girl; blonde, boobs and no brain.

She came up and stood next to him, ordering a drink in an overtly high-pitched LA accent, as the bartender slid Mendeleev his bourbon.

As expected, Mendeleev introduced himself and oogled Natasha as she introduced herself.

"Natalie. Natalie Rushman."

Peggy watched from her position next to the bar, taking a sip of her whiskey as she watched the event unfold. It worked like clockwork every time. She eyed Natasha as the criminal took the bait and gestured to the exit, offering out his arm. With a toothy smile, Natasha took it and walked out with him, but not before giving Peggy the signal.