mviswidow

[mviswidow]

Thank you for writing the Maria Hill piece, I’m totally fine with the change. It’s your time, I didn’t even pay for it, so whatever change would have been fine! Thank you again, dear! May I ask what the next fic will be? :)

of course! i enjoyed writing it a lot, and thanks for understanding ☺️

right now i’m working on a natasha fic where she and r are in a situationship of sorts? not sure how i feel about it yet. it’s kind of a mess but i’m gonna try to work on it tonight

[mviswidow]

the waiting hours

Maria Hill x sister!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: R is Maria’s younger sister, who struggles with anxiety because of Maria’s job. After a heart-to-heart, Maria comes up with a possible solution to the problem.

A/N: i love this request, and it ties in very well to a series idea that i had a couple of weeks ago that could be really interesting. (for that reason, i did end up changing some of what was asked) the concept really excites me, but i’m nervous about being able to do it justice. i can make a little post to give you guys a little idea of what i was thinking, if that’s something you’d like, just let me know! it would involve more natasha and blackhill.

also tiny warning about the amount of context there is, so sorry about that but i couldn't help myself.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you checked your texts for the fourth time in the last couple of minutes. 

Still nothing from Maria.

The time on your phone read 1:23 AM. More than six hours after she was supposed to come home and you still hadn't received so much as a text from her.

By midnight, you realized the movie night the two of you had been planning all week wasn't going to happen, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

It felt silly, really. You had only learned to depend on your older sister after your father died. His passing had been complicated. He was complicated. While he had his good moments, he also had very bad ones. In the last seven years of his life, alcoholism took control of him. It began the year after Maria left the house for college, and you couldn’t help blaming yourself for his incessant drinking.

As horrible as it was to admit, when you found out guardianship had been granted to Maria and you’d be living with her, you felt nothing but relief. Happiness, in a wickedly bittersweet way. You had lost so much of your childhood to the circumstances in which you were brought up, so this was your opportunity to start fresh and enjoy your last couple of years as a kid teenager. 

The two of you also had a ten-year age gap, so you were young when she moved away at eighteen. This had left you with a lot of catching up to do, and you were so grateful that you got to live with your big sister again. So grateful that she was willing to put her time, money, and energy into taking care of you

Maria’s availability and presence in your day-to-day life ebbed and flowed in the two years since she’d become your guardian. 

At first, it seemed like Maria was around all the time. After your father’s passing, she took an entire month off, just to spend time with you and make sure you were okay. In the following month, she would take a couple of days off work a week and never worked overtime.

Eventually, she returned to her full hours. Her work was important - and you knew how much it meant to her. Ever since you were a kid, you could remember how your big sister would talk about wanting to help people. You knew how crucial her position was, and you were well aware of how busy she was kept because of the demanding nature of her job. Still, you couldn’t help feeling disappointed every time she stayed late at work and missed a movie night or dinner, and lately, it seemed like she had no time for you at all.

It wasn’t the disappointment that ate away at you, however. The anxiety was the real killer. Most nights, you went to bed with your stomach in knots, worried about whether your sister was okay or not. You’d been more stressed than ever before over a job that wasn’t even your own.

Seeing the state Maria would arrive home in sometimes was what rattled you the most. She never arrived bloody or dirty, except for one time. She’d come home with a grazed shoulder and a cut on her cheekbone. You’d cried for an hour because she was all you had left in this world, and you couldn’t bear to lose her. After that, she became adamant about washing off her day in the SHIELD locker rooms and stopping by the medbay if necessary. It was her way of protecting you from the reality of her job. 

After that one incident, it was the faraway look in her eyes that shook you to your core. The telltale sign of inevitable disasters she’d still worked so hard to prevent.

Sometimes, you’d imagine that alongside all the medals and awards she’d received in her tenure at SHIELD, she’d receive a medal for being the worst at responding to text messages regarding her safety. 

It was hard to complain, though. You knew she would give you the moon and stars if you asked for them, but it seemed as though the hardest thing for her to give you was her time.

You checked your phone once again to no avail and sighed deeply, letting your head thump against the wall behind you. 

· ·✶· ·

The click of the front door of the apartment unlocking stirred you from your nap on the couch. 

Maria walked in, tight bun still intact, shoulders holding all the tension from her day. She allowed her bag to drop to the floor and her keys to clatter on the counter as a deep sigh escaped through her lips.

She only saw you once her eyes adjusted to the dark room. The sight of you made her stand a little straighter, almost like she’d been called to attention.

“Honey, why aren’t you in bed?”

Your eyes were bleary from your nap, but you managed to catch the time that read 2:08 AM on the microwave behind her.

“You didn’t answer my texts. We were supposed to have our movie night. I was worried,” you murmured.

The shock on Maria’s face told you she had completely forgotten that she’d even given you a reason to wait up for her. Her lips pursed tightly in regret after she took a sharp breath, “Fuck, kid, I’m so sorry. I got so caught up at work, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, because it wasn’t fine, but there was nothing else for you to say.

“I’ll make it up to you, okay? Tomorrow morning I’ll make us breakfast, and I’ll go in a little late so we can eat together… How does that sound?”

“Good,” you forced a small smile, so she knew you could see that she was trying, and nodded. “I’m going to go to bed.”

Even though you were upset with her, you couldn’t fight the voice in your head that told you to hug her on your way to bed, because it’s what you’d wanted all night. She looked slightly surprised when you threw your arms around her waist. You hugged her a little too tight for comfort - though Maria said nothing about it - and laid your head on her shoulder. One of her hands went to the back of your head, holding you against her, and the other rested on your upper back. When you felt her body relax slightly, like she was no longer holding the weight of the world, you realized that she probably needed this too. 

“Goodnight, I love you, Ria.”

“To the moon and back, Y/n/n. Sweet dreams.”

· ·✶· ·

The smell of pancakes woke you before your alarm, and a smile tugged at your lips as you stretched your body to wake up.

You padded into the kitchen, and Maria heard you before you could greet her.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” She turned in your direction and smiled at the state of you, hair messy from sleep and pajamas wrinkled from the night.

You were pleased to see that she wasn’t yet in the pristine condition that she went to work in every day. Her makeup was done, but her hair was loose, the ends brushing her shoulders as she moved. She was wearing a white button-down and navy pants, but her shirt wasn’t tucked in.

It brought a smile to your face. She looked more like herself.

You nodded in response to her question, and a yawn threatening to bubble up interrupts your speech until the feeling passes, “I did, you?”

“Yeah, it was alright,” Maria nodded once and turned back to the stove. You knew she was lying; it wasn’t very hard to tell. Every once in a while, she would put no effort into a lie and expect you not to question her. You knew why she did it. Sometimes it was easier to give a halfhearted answer than to be honest, than to explain that she didn’t sleep well, and having to tell you all the reasons why. You understood that well.

The high stool that was tucked under the bar of the kitchen island dragged noisily on the floor as you pulled it toward you to sit down. “Sorry,” you murmured, remembering that she’d just told you the week before to be careful with the flooring.

“It’s okay,” she replied softly, as she plated the pancakes into two neat piles. 

Maria placed one of the plates in front of you and slid the other in front of the seat beside you. You watched the wisps of steam rise from your pancakes as your sister pulled out a bowl of mixed berries from the refrigerator.

She popped a strawberry that had already been cut in half into her mouth while walking around to sit next to you. “They’re good this week,” she hummed as she finished chewing.

“Thank god,” you chuckled, starting to dig into your breakfast.

At home, when she wasn’t worried about work and was truly herself, Maria was a pretty easygoing person. Last month, however, the grapes at the store were more bitter than usual, and the strawberries were less firm. She’d thrown a fit and grumbled every time she went into the fridge to grab a snack about how she’d love to have fresh fruit. 

“Hey, so, this coming Friday they’re sending me out in the field, and I’ll be gone for a day or two. I don’t have all the details yet, but I wanted to let you know now. I just found out last night.”

Just like that, the bubble of a perfect morning you were in popped. The pancakes felt heavy in your mouth, almost too fluffy, like they were suffocating you. You forced what was in your mouth down with a sip of water that you realized Maria had set on the counter for you before you’d even come out of your room. Your eyes watered slightly as a lump in your throat formed, and you realized you weren’t even paying attention to what she was saying.

“-so I’m going to have Natasha come stay with you again, but she also said to tell you you’re welcome to stay at her place if you’d like a change of scenery.”

Maria looked at you expectantly, and your mouth was open for a second or two before you could nod and find words, “That’s nice of her.”

Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, “What’s wrong?”

Her words make the hair on your arms stand. The way she asks is firm, and the words fall from her lips quickly - you think it’s a tactic she developed with you to catch you off guard enough to see your true feelings, even if you’d attempt to lie to her. It always worked. 

She’d noticed the subtle crinkle in your brow and your eyes widening slightly before you could catch yourself immediately. You knew trying to lie was a lost cause, and yet, “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Maria frowned and put a hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn toward her slightly so she could look at you better. “Do you not like it when Nat stays with you? I can ask someone else -”

“No, I love Nat - that’s not it.” “What is it then? I want to help.”

“I know,” you ran your fingers through your hair, a habit you’d developed that was a dead giveaway of your frustration. “I know you want to help, but I don’t think you can help.”

Maria tutted and took your hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Take a breath, kid, it’s okay.”

You chewed the inside of your lip for a moment before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. After letting the air out of your mouth, you opened your eyes again and saw your sister looking at you worriedly. 

It made you feel guilty to see her like that. Patient and understanding when you were being difficult.

“I might not be able to help, but I’d like to try. And even if I can’t, I can see that something’s really bothering you. You shouldn’t have to carry that alone.”

You thought your heart might beat out of your chest as you geared up to speak. She squeezed your hand again, reminding you that she was there and it was going to be okay.

“I’ve been struggling a lot lately with anxiety,” you started slowly, knowing this next part would probably be the worst to get out.

Maria nodded once, intent on showing you that she was listening, and waited for you to continue.

“Mainly because of you - or, your job, really. I just get so worried, and I feel so helpless sitting here waiting for you to come back when I haven’t heard from you, and I have no idea what’s going on on your end. I sometimes wonder if it’s going to be you who walks in the door at night or one of your coworkers to bring me bad news.”

Saying it out loud felt relieving, but you were worried about what Maria would think. Tears began to fall at this point, and you swore that for a second, your sister’s eyes looked glassy. “No, no - you don’t need to worry about that, Y/n/n,” she reached forward to brush your hair away from your eyes gently. “I know what I do seems scary, and it can be, at times. But for the most part, I’m safe in headquarters, leading missions from afar. And when I am out in the field, I’m rarely worried about making it out because I know I will. I have to, because I’ve got you counting on me, yeah?”

You nod once, brushing away a tear that had just fallen.

“Come here, kid,” Maria murmured as she stood from her seat, pulling you into her arms. 

You cried against her shoulder, probably wetting her button-down, but she didn’t seem to care at all. She ran her fingers through your hair repeatedly, knowing it would help calm you down.

It felt good to finally release the pent-up anxiety you’d had building for months, to talk about how you were feeling, but you were still worried that as soon as she left to work again, you’d be left with the same feeling of dread until she returned.

Maria’s hand stilled after you calmed, and she pulled back to wipe your tears. You started to apologize for her shirt when you caught a glimpse of it, but she shushed you quickly, not having any of it.

“I have an idea, but you might hate it.”

“That’s always a great way to win someone over,” you muttered, sniffling before you spoke.

Maria rolled her eyes playfully and went on, “Since it’s Saturday and you don’t have school, what do you think about coming in to work with me? My day isn’t too busy, and you’d be seeing some people you know. I know you’ve visited a couple of times, but you’ve never spent a whole day there. I think it might change your perspective a bit to see that things over at headquarters can be calmer than you might think… I think it could help.”

“Or it’ll make it worse,” you murmured.

“But it might help,” she pushed gently, but could tell that you still weren’t convinced.

“How about this - if you stay for two hours and absolutely hate it, I’ll take the rest of the day off, we’ll go home and watch whatever movie you want.”

Your brow creased as you thought about it. It was a good offer. You’d never had a bad time visiting her at work, though you’d witnessed some slightly stressful situations; there would be some familiar faces, and it could help to rationalize your overthinking. You knew it wouldn’t help with your anxiety during her missions, but if it could help on a day-to-day basis, it might be worth it.

“Okay,” you said, finally.

A hopeful smile grew on Maria’s face, and she raised a brow, “Okay?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Good,” she grinned. “We’re going to have a lot of fun today.”

“I’m kind of excited,” you revealed quietly.

“You should be, Nat is going to freak out when she sees you. She might steal you from me,” She kissed the top of your head and let you sit back down on your chair. “Now, eat up so you can get ready.”

[mviswidow]

Hi there!

I’ve read your post about requests, so I’m here to ask Maria x reader one. So Reader is Maria’s younger sister (16-17 years old), Maria is her guardian. Maria is very busy with SHIELD and simply doesn’t have enough time for her sister, altough she’s trying. When Reader starts to develope stomach pains, she tries to hide from Maria because she doesn’t want bother her. Of course Maria notice it and takes her to the doctor, but they couldn’t find anything. After a heart to heart talk turns out that the stomach pains are coming from stress and anxiety. Thank you!! :)

hi anon!!

i'll be posting a fic that fulfils this request sometime today. i did end up changing the doctor part because i had a different idea that i was able to execute more smoothly but i hope you enjoy it regardless!

[mviswidow]

also i've been working on two fics for the past month on and off. i keep flip-flopping between which i like better and if they're even any good at all. not sure why i'm doubting my writing so much lately but it's been frustrating and has made it hard to stay motivated, but i promise i'm working on stuff and i hope y'all like it when it (hopefully, eventually) comes out

comparison is the death of art and i'm trying to remind myself of that

[mviswidow]

been reading a handful of fics about Norway Natasha this past week and i'm obsessed.

[mviswidow]

hey you still take requests?

yup!

[mviswidow]

pas de deux

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Natasha sees a familiar face at her weekly ballet class. A/N: this got me out of my writer's block and was so much fun to write! i was lowkey geeking while writing this. i’m obsessed with this concept (also sorry for all the ballet jargon)

Every Sunday she had available, Natasha took ballet. It was something she started doing a couple of months after Ultron to make herself feel more normal. Her SHIELD-mandated therapist had recommended it as an exposure therapy of sorts. It had helped, though she wouldn’t admit the fact to anyone but herself.

She’d found a few studios that she loved, but would leave and find a new one every time she was recognized. The longest she’d made it before was shockingly 10 weeks, though a 7:30 pm class didn’t have many attendees. Sometimes people would come up and ask, sometimes she could tell she had been recognized by the way they looked at her. The latter felt worse. She could see the hint of fear in their eyes as they pretended not to stare. It made an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

Today was her first day at her 9th studio. She was hoping this one could stick for a while, or she would have to begin to circle back to old ones and try to take class at a different time. That, or make use of a spare room in the Compound, which would likely be much easier than having to find new studios all the time, but wouldn’t be as therapeutic.

Nat considered herself to be a composed person, but she couldn’t avoid the pre-class jitters she felt, though they mainly stemmed from not wanting to be recognized. She made a silent prayer that the receptionist wouldn’t recognize her. 

(The shortest she’d stayed at a studio was two minutes; she couldn’t make it through signing in for her class reservation that she’d made online before the perky blonde receptionist had a look in her eye that screamed, “I know you from somewhere”. Natasha was out the door after, “Aren’t you-”.)

Luckily, she didn’t get more than a second glance from the receptionist, an elderly Ukrainian woman, who simply complimented Natasha on the color of her hair, saying it reminded her of her daughter.

She thanked her, letting a gentle smile reach her eyes at the sentiment, and headed up the stairs to the studios.

Natasha liked to arrive early. It gave her time to take note of all exit points in the building, stretch, and relax a little before people started to show up.

The place was calm. She could hear music coming from the first studio in the long hallway.

She gave a polite nod to the mothers sitting on a bench watching their children finish up their class. Her chest tightened as she stole a glance at them, a glimpse of what her childhood should have been.

Nat walked to the end of the hallway to Studio 5, surprised to see someone already inside. She assumed it was just the teacher and took a few steps closer to the door, trying to read the name listed on the printed schedule for the day.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” she whispered. The name felt foreign on her lips, heavy on her tongue. Her blood ran hot, and anxiety swelled deep in her chest.

One look at you was all it took for memories to come flooding back. The two of you standing beside each other at the barre, stealing glances at each other during class, always pairing up to go across the floor at the same time. You were a troublesome duo in your youth; the only times you or Natasha ever got in trouble for misbehaving were when you were together.

You’d been each other’s weakness.

She hadn’t seen you since she defected from the red room. 

She remembered stopping by your bunk the night before her mission that led her to meet Clint.

She remembered the kiss she pressed to your knuckles after she squeezed your hand goodbye and how badly she’d wanted to have kissed your lips instead.

She remembered how beautiful you were, even more so now as she watched you practice an adagio gracefully in the center of the room. You’d always been a better dancer than her; she’d told you so countless times.

You felt eyes watching you and glanced at the large window into the studio through the mirror, seeing a familiar red bun. For a second, you thought you might be hallucinating, but as soon as you saw her cheeks flush upon realizing she’d been caught staring, you knew your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

As soon as you were able to shake off the shocked look on your face, a smirk tugged at the edge of your lips, but when you turned towards the door to greet her, she was gone.

Natasha beelined for the bathroom, knuckles almost white from gripping her bag. The door clicked loudly as it locked. Her head was swimming with exit strategies, excuses, and you. She couldn't decide if being stuck in a room with you for an hour and a half was a blessing or a curse.

She checked the time on her phone, trying to rationalize her situation. The whole reason she was doing this in the first place was to replace negative memories of dancing in the Red Room with positive ones, but how could she possibly do that when you seemed to be in most of her memories from childhood? For the first time, she wondered what her therapist would suggest. 

As easy as it could have been for her to leave, she felt frozen in place. Her brain was screaming at her to go and make sure that your paths never crossed again, but her heart felt warm. It was an unusual sensation, but she felt an odd sense of comfort knowing that you were near. 

Natasha missed you.

“What the fuck is happening?” she huffed, letting her head thump against the tiled bathroom wall.

Nat shut her eyes as her jaw clenched tightly, trying to keep her anxiety at bay. She felt embarrassed. She ran away from you. Who fucking does that?

“Christ,” she splashed cold water on her face and left the bathroom.

There were now two girls stretching in the studio. Natasha was relieved at the sight of new people, though it was probably fair to assume that you’d gotten the idea that she didn’t want to talk to you.

She wasn’t even really sure if that was true. If she hadn’t wanted to see you right now, she could have easily left.

Your eyes met again. You were standing beside the sound system in the far front corner of the room, making casual conversation with your students (You were barely listening). 

Natasha offered you something that could hardly be described as a smile, but she looked apologetic. The corners of your lips quirked upwards as you tilted your head to the side. A soft gesture that said, “I won’t bite.”

The redhead finally crossed the threshold of the room, settling herself in the back corner, far from everyone. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Natasha’s quads were burning. You were 45 minutes into class, finishing up barre before moving on to work in the center of the room.

You’d kept your distance from Natasha thus far, not wanting to cross a line. You figured she’d come to class to do what she enjoys, not be plagued with memories of her past. 

You caught Nat wobbling in her arabesqué before the group started to do the combination on the other side and walked over to her.

She seemed to stiffen up slightly as you got closer. You watched carefully as she brought her left leg up into passé. 

“Tuck your pelvis more.”

Her eyes flickered to you after she made the correction. You weren’t sure if she was looking for approval or fantasizing about ways to strangle you for talking to her, but you gave her a nod regardless.

“Relax, Natasha,” you murmured as she brought her leg up in developé. The tension in her body was restricting her flexibility. 

It had been over a decade since she last heard you say her name, and though she was sweating, it almost sent a shiver down her spine.

“Arabesqué and balance,” you call out to the class, your eyes still fixed on Natasha. You were selfish to let yourself stare just because you could.

You dared to touch her, placing the palm of your hand under her knee, “higher.”

You didn’t push her leg up yourself; you simply allowed her to lift it off your hand.

“Good,” you smiled as the music faded before walking back to the sound system.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Another 45 minutes later, some of Natasha’s baby hairs were curling around her hairline. It made her look softer. 

To finish your class, you lead your students through the révérence you’d learned as a child.

The sequence of bows and curtseys done at the end of every class was different almost every time Natasha had a new teacher, but she recognized this one immediately.

Tears pricked her eyes as her body moved through the simple combination that had been drilled into her at such an early age.

Your eyes met again through the mirror; you didn’t miss the glossiness of Natasha’s eyes. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“Have a great week, everyone. Great job today!” You smiled, watching your class file out. 

You turned to the sound system to unplug your phone and pack your things away.

The last person you expected to stick around after class was Natasha, yet there she stood.

“So, you teach every Sunday?”

The familiar rasp in her voice brought a soft smile to your face, “I teach every day, but yes. I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too… I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be here.”

[mviswidow]

my schedule is pretty clear this summer... send requests?

i'm re-entering my supergirl phase so i will absolutely write for any of the female characters from that show but i'm always happy to write for natasha & maria (and any other character on my list)

[mviswidow]

i need someone to send me life-altering natasha romanoff fic recommendations pls

[mviswidow]

muse

Amy March x Fem Reader

Word Count: 1k

Summary: While in Paris, Amy needs a nude model to practice anatomy and you volunteer without a second thought.

A/N: i genuinely have no idea if anyone will read this but i adore amy and this has been sitting in my drafts for probably a year and a half or longer so i figured i should finally post it

You honestly didn’t think twice before volunteering yourself when Amy mentioned that she wanted to practice anatomy with a model. She'd just complained that men were usually the only ones with the privilege of having them.

You’ve been friends with Amy since she first came to Paris and she felt like a breath of fresh air. You differ from most Parisians in that you prioritize what you want to do rather than what others think you should do, and Amy liked that about you. Her bright smile, free spirit, and warm personality were what initially drew you to her.

Lately, you’ve been afraid that Amy would discover that you're into women, especially after how eagerly you volunteered to be her model, but the enthusiastic grin she gave as she clapped her hands together in excitement eased your concerns.

Standing awkwardly in an expensive robe beside Amy as she gets her paints ready, you wait anxiously for her to tell you what to do.

Now you’re tying Amy’s smock for her, hyper-aware of how cold the room is and you let your hands rest carefully at her waist for half a second as you take a breath to calm yourself.

Amy turns to face you, sensing that you’ve finished since she couldn’t feel your hands moving anymore, “You look nervous.“

“Is it really that obvious?“

“It’s okay, I’m nervous, too.”

You roll your eyes playfully at that, “What do you have to be nervous about?“

“I’ve never done this before either, and I want to do it well because… it’s important that your beauty is captured perfectly.“

Your face flushes and you bite your bottom lip, now noticing the nervousness in Amy’s body language after she mentioned it.

“I’m confident that it will be perfect, everything you touch practically turns to gold.“

Amy blushes and dips her head, “I don’t know about that.. but thank you.“

You shake your head and wave her off, “You don’t have to thank me, it’s the truth.“

The two of you hold eye contact, and for a moment it feels like Amy is looking into your soul. She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door.

She clears her throat and turns away from you, towards the door, “Come in.“

You watch one of Amy’s aunt’s staff come inside and talk to her briefly about an upcoming party Mrs March is throwing. When she leaves, Amy turns back to you with a tightlipped smile, “Are you ready to get started?“

You muster up the courage to nod and she takes one of your hands in her own. You notice it's warmth as she leads you to where she wants you to sit.

Once you're seated on the stool she's set up for you, you move to untie the robe, but Amy’s hand stops you. You look up at her and watch her swallow, “I-I’ve been thinking that maybe you should sit and then we fix the robe so it’s draped over your arms… What do you think about that?“

You nod silently and sit on the wooden chair, anxiety bubbling up inside you.

Amy then carefully reaches out, taking your chin between her pointer finger and thumb, and angles your face the slightest bit towards the window. She glances right at your lips before releasing your face and you have to convince yourself that you didn’t imagine it.

She backs up a few paces and chews on her bottom lip until you assume she’s decided that she likes the way the sun is hitting your face. “OK,“ was all she said before walking back over.

You know what comes next, but your heart still stutters when Amy stands right in front of you and looks at you with an expression that you could only imagine being her way of asking for your consent.

“Go ahead,” you say quietly, and watch her intensely as she loosens the knot that ties the robe closed. You feel her fingers graze your stomach as she pulls the fabric apart.

When you look back up at her, you realize that she’s avoiding looking at your breasts, and her face has flushed.

“Are you okay?“

“I just-“ she lets out a big breath and you shiver as the warm air tickles your face.

“You can relax, Ames, it’s just me,” you say, although at the forefront of your mind was how hard your heart was hammering in your chest.

She stays silent while you continue looking at her. She glances down at your lips again, you look at hers, and in a moment of confidence, you lean up and kiss her.

You shut your eyes tightly and both of you freeze for a moment. You don’t even dare to breathe until Amy leans closer.

She rests a gentle hand just above your knee as she pulls away, breathing heavily, her face still inches from yours. As you look at her, you suddenly have so many things you want to say to her. The dreams you’ve had of her, how long you’ve been aching to kiss her, how utterly beautiful she is, but you don’t get to say any of that because she’s pulling you in and kissing you feverishly before you can.

Your hands fly to her shoulders, steadying yourself, and you almost faint when you feel Amy’s hand at your bare waist. Her touch is electrifying and your head buzzes contently as her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, a request for more.

When you moan against her mouth, her grip at your waist tightens and you have to pull your lips from hers to take a breath, “You’re incredible, Amy. You’re beautiful -”

You're interrupted by the blonde’s venture to your neck. She nips at the skin of your neck deliciously. “You’re the muse here,” she teases.

You chuckle as your hand finds its way to her hair. You were happy to see that Amy had regained her confidence and was almost surprised by her forwardness, but you knew she had it in her.

When Amy’s hand bravely found its way to your breast, the moan that escaped your lips echoed throughout the room. She bit down as if to punish you, but you weren’t so sure that it could be considered a punishment if you enjoyed it so much.

“You have to be quiet if you want me to keep going, darling, there’s staff around outside.”

Your cheeks flush red at the suggestiveness in her tone and it takes everything in you to take her head in your hands and guide her away from your neck.

She's wearing an expression of confusion and you can see a bit of panic in her eyes, "What's wrong?"

You chuckle and take her hand, squeezing it to reassure her, "Nothing, it's just - you have to paint, Ames. I know this is important to you."

"Right, I forgot," she blushes, releasing a sigh of relief.

Amy is about to start repositioning you again before you pull her towards you for another kiss. Before either of you can get lost in it, you pull away, "Hey, but after you're all done, if you wanted, my schedule for the rest of the day is clear so -"

"Yes," she interrupts you, a bright smile on her face.

[mviswidow]

send nat requests 😇😇

[mviswidow]

in the cards

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: slight suggestiveness

Summary: After going on dates for a month and a half, Nat finds out that R has a daughter.

Prompt: r and natasha are starting to see each other r let’s natasha into her life and natasha finds out r has a young daughter. natasha pushes r away bc she’s afraid of how she may fuck up the kid if she gets too close or smth

A/N: this req is from a while ago. and i j found it in my drafts i didn’t include the nat pushing r away part sorry about that

“It’s still early,” You murmured against Natasha’s lips, a hint of something more in your voice. When you pulled away to look at her, a smirk grew on her face as she raised an eyebrow in question.

“Do you want to come inside?” You asked, looking up at her through your lashes. Her smirk turned into a smile and she nodded before kissing you again.

Natasha promptly locked her car that the two of you were standing outside of and followed you into the lobby of your apartment building. Your hand reached for hers and you pulled her up the stairs to your apartment. 

As you found your key and started to unlock the door, Natasha began pressing gentle kisses to your neck, making you blush. Once the lock clicked to disengage, your hand dropped and you turned to face her. 

The crease in your brows made Natasha insecure when you looked at her intently, seeming to be making a decision. The two of you had been going on dates consistently for just about a month and a half and you’d already been inside her home. Anxiety grew in her chest when you seemed hesitant to let her inside of yours.

“There’s something I haven’t told you about me and I’m worried you won't like it,” You swallowed, nervously biting your bottom lip.

Hearing this alleviated some of Natasha’s concerns. Her hands found their way to your waist and a reassuring look spread across her features, “Well, I like everything I do know about you, so I wouldn’t worry too much. What is it?”

You pressed your lips together and took a breath, tilting your head up to avoid her gaze for a moment before you began speaking, “I have a daughter.”

Natasha’s mouth fell open and closed as she blinked several times, trying to process the new information. 

“I didn’t really know how to tell you when we first started going out and then I felt like I waited too long to tell you,” You ran your fingers through your hair as you spoke. “I don’t even know how you feel about kids so I had no idea if this would be a dealbreaker and I got more nervous for you to find out the longer I waited because I really like you.”

Natasha heard the uneasiness in your voice and shook her head, “It’s not a dealbreaker for me. I do wish you’d told me a little earlier, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You nodded and sighed in relief, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” She tucked a hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek. “I still like you.”

“Good,” You chuckled in response before concern flooded your features once more. “Do you still want to come inside? She’s probably still awake and I know I’ve just sprung this on you, so if you want to meet her another time I completely understand.”

Natasha seemed to contemplate her options for a couple of seconds before nodding, “I’ll come in.”

You grinned and pressed a kiss to her lips, “Perfect.”

Finally, you opened up the door to your apartment to see your daughter playing Barbies with her babysitter in the living room. 

“Mama!” Your toddler exclaimed, running as fast as her small legs could carry her before jumping into your arms. You held her on your hip and peppered her face with kisses. Bubbly laughter erupted from your daughter.

“Hi, baby,” You grinned. “You have fun with Bailey?”

“Yes!”

She went on to tell you about the events of her afternoon as her babysitter collected her things before saying goodbye to your daughter.

Natasha lingered near the door and watched you silently. The way your smile met your eyes every time your baby spoke told her all that she needed to know. You looked beautiful.

Once the babysitter had left, you turned and made your way toward Natasha, “This is Natasha, honey. Nat, this is Daisy.”

“Hi Daisy, it’s nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Natasha smiled at the young girl in your arms.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied quietly. She tended to get a little shy when meeting new people for the first time, but you knew she would warm up to Natasha in no time.

“Are you dating my Mommy?” 

Your face turned as red as it possibly could as Natasha chuckled, a light blush visible on her cheeks. 

“I am,” she responded. “And I promise I’m being good to her.”

Daisy smiled at that, seeming satisfied for the moment as she leaned her head on your chest.

“You sleepy, Dais’?” You questioned, kissing the top of her head.

She nodded, and you hummed, “Alright, baby, let’s get you to bed. Say goodnight to Natasha.”

“Night, ‘Tasha,” Daisy mumbled.

“Goodnight, Daisy.”

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” You said, looking over your shoulder to Natasha.

Natasha took the liberty to look around at the photos in your living room and kitchen while you were gone. Most of the photos were of you and Daisy. There were a couple of a dog she assumed you’d owned at some point in time. You had a grin on your face in every photo. It warmed her heart to see.

She picked up a photo resting on the coffee table of you and Daisy as she sat back on the couch. Daisy was sitting in your lap, her hair in small pigtails as she attempted to blow out her 2nd birthday candle. The resemblance between the two of you was uncanny. 

Natasha set the photo back down as she heard you singing a lullaby and couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face.

A couple of minutes later, you closed the door to your daughter’s room as quietly as you could and reentered the living room to find Natasha seated on the couch. 

Upon seeing you, a smile reappeared on Natasha’s face. “Hey, you,” she murmured.

The corners of your lips curled upwards as you made your way over to her, “Hi.”

The redhead pulled your legs across her lap when you sat beside her and put her arm on top of the couch cushion, her fingers now dancing up and down your spine. 

“She seems like a sweet kid.”

“She is,” You replied, a fond look on your face as you put your arm around her neck. “Daisy is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“I can imagine,” She nodded.

“Thanks for taking this so well. I’m an idiot for not telling you sooner.”

Natasha shook her head, “That’s alright, I get it. Not everyone likes kids.”

“But you do?”

She smiled softly, “Yes, I do…” 

It’s clear to you that she had something going on in her head by the crease between her eyebrows. You played with the ends of her hair, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was thinking about.

“I could never have kids,” she finally spoke.

You barely heard her say it. “I’m infertile”

Natasha’s eyes watered as her lips pursed together. “But I always wanted to be a mother.”

Your heart broke for her. “You would be a wonderful mother. I know it.”

She shrugged as a tear fell, “Not in the cards for me.”

Your hand was quick to brush it away and you offer a sad smile as you shake your head, “I don’t know about that. There are other ways to be a mother than giving birth, you know?”

Natasha’s heart raced at the subtle implication. It was early for the two of you, and she knew that’s why you were choosing your words carefully, but she was grateful for the sentiment nevertheless. She’d known that adoption was always an option and that she could always find someone with children but for some reason, she’d never imagined herself in those scenarios. The latter had always felt like an imposition of sorts and it didn’t feel fair to adopt a child who could have a greater family than she could ever give them.

Maybe you were right though. She nodded, “I guess so. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to upset you. I really should have told you beforehand. I feel terrible for springing this on you.”

“I liked meeting her. She’s very sweet. I don’t regret a thing,” She reassured you. “But you must like me a lot to let me meet your daughter.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at her teasing, “I’m just lucky that you didn’t run screaming when I told you.”

“I’m not the one who’s going to be screaming,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Nat-” You gasped, not expecting the turn in conversation.

She was quick to nip at your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “You better hope you can keep quiet.”

[mviswidow]

in search of silence

Eloise Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: r is in an abusive marriage, angst, el to the rescue, some fluff at the end

Summary: Eloise and R are childhood best friends. When a new season begins, they find themselves reunited for the first time since R has entered her marriage that was set up by her parents.

Prompt: could i request a fic with childhood bestfriends eloise bridgerton x f!reader. eloise and reader stopped talking to each other as often because reader got married and one day eloise catches reader’s husband being mean to her (this can be physically or verbally) and eloise defends reader and they rekindle their friendship/old feelings for each other.

sidenote, ive always loved your mcu women fics and im SO glad you’re taking requests for eloise now 😭😭🫶

A/N: thank you anon!! for both the request and the compliment. i love eloise sm this was so fun to write

Muffled shouting stole Eloise’s attention when she escaped from the ballroom of this week's ball that she had been forced to attend with her family. She hadn’t wandered far enough to no longer be able to hear the string quartet playing, but the sound of a deep voice yelling angrily was hard to miss as she passed what she assumed was a drawing room.

Though Eloise knew she should not eavesdrop, she found herself unable to mind her business and stopped in her tracks, gravitating closer to the commotion.

--

“I am through with you,” Your husband shouted, face red with rage.

The moment his hand had clasped forcefully around your wrist to drag you into a room with him earlier, you knew what was coming for you.

“James, please - someone will hear,” you responded in a hushed voice, thoroughly embarrassed at the thought.

“Let them! Everyone should know the bitch of a wife you are,” he spat.

You knew better than to talk back to him, and yet, “I’ve done nothing to you at all! You’ve no reason to -”

A heavy-handed slap to your face was sure to silence you. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheek, and your hand rose shakily to cradle the side of your face. Hot tears brimmed your eyes as you breathed deeply to steady yourself.

“I’m leaving.”

“Please -” you forced yourself to say, a feeble attempt to calm him down, lest his temper worsen on his way home.

“Enough from you! I-”

The door burst open and you felt as if your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

You were astounded to see Eloise standing in the doorway, her lips in a tight line. It had been long since you’d seen her last. She was beautiful, as always. For a moment you forgot your present situation until you noted the fire in her eyes. She was furious, but she kept herself composed, “Is everything alright in here? I heard quite the commotion from outside as I was passing by.”

“We are quite fine.” He turned back to you and after a moment, he spoke, “I’ll send the carriage back around for you once I arrive home. I cannot stand the sight of you at present.”

“Lady Bridgerton,” he said curtly. Eloise barely had time to register the fact that James was walking towards her and stepped out of his way just in time.

“Lord Anderson,” she managed out, deciding to forgo her polite curtsy. She had deemed that he did not deserve it.

You both jumped at the sound of the door slamming upon his exit.

Her head felt as if it was spinning. She’d recognized your voice from outside the instant you spoke. The thought of this being the reality of the marriage your parents had arranged for you devastated her. She wouldn’t let herself imagine how horrid it was for you when you were actually at home.

Your cheek still burned from being slapped and there was no doubt in your mind about it being tinged pink. You were beyond mortified and the relief of James finally having left had tears falling down your face rapidly.

As much as you wanted to take in Eloise, who you hadn’t had a moment alone with since last season, you were lost in your mind. You dreaded your impending arrival back home and prayed that your husband would be fast asleep.

After a few more seconds you pried your eyes away from the bookcase you had been staring at and settled your gaze on Eloise.

She somehow looked more stunning than you had remembered her to be and your heart squeezed painfully. Her hair curled carefully over her shoulders in such a familiar way and it reminded you of how you used to twirl her curls in your fingers whenever she would rest her head in your lap.

The Bridgerton made her way over to you carefully. The concern on her face was evident and you knew by the way her eyebrows were crinkling together that she had much to say.

She stopped when she was just a few feet in front of you. For once, she seemed unable to form a proper sentence.

You were sure she couldn’t find the right words. You weren’t sure how you should navigate this situation yourself, but you had had enough of the silence, “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.”

Eloise shook her head immediately, “You have nothing to be apologizing for.”

There was another lull of silence. All either of you could do was look into each other’s eyes. Hers looked so sad. How you hated to see them so.

“I assure you I am quite alright.”

“There is no use in lying to me, Y/n/n.”

Your bottom lip trembles at the familiar nickname and she hurries closer, engulfing you in a hug.

She felt you trembling as she held you against her. “I’m here,” she whispered, arms wrapped tightly around you.

It was not long before sobs racked your body and all she could do was rub your back and occasionally give you a few words of reassurance. Eloise felt her heart splitting into pieces the longer you cried.

You were certain that you would give anything to stay in her arms forever. There was nowhere in the world where you felt safer. Her chest radiated warmth and you took comfort in the very familiar scent of her perfume.

Once you’ve calmed slightly, you apologize again, “I’ve missed you terribly. And I have been the furthest thing from a friend to you. I’ve allowed James to drive the people closest to me out of my life and I won't stand for it any longer.”

“I can’t have you getting in trouble because of me,” she shook her head.

“Oh, hush, El,” you chuckled wetly. “I’ve been in trouble with my Mama countless times because of you.”

She knew you were joking to make light of the situation, but she found nothing humorous about it. Especially not as she reached up to wipe away the tears on your face.

“How long has it been this way?” she inquired, speaking with a gentle voice.

“A handful of months. He’s become rather frustrated by the fact that I have yet to produce an heir for him and his displeasure with me grows stronger by the second.”

Eloise’s face scrunched in indignation, “That is ridiculous.”

“It’s fair enough - that is why he was searching for a wife in the first place.”

“It’s unacceptable behavior from him regardless of that fact,” she was quick to rebuke. She took your hand in her own and squeezed gently. The feel of your skin against hers made her heart race.

“I’d like to get out of the house tomorrow. Do you think your mother should have my head if I busied you the whole day?”

“Not at all. She’s missed you quite a lot as well,” Eloise smiled.

Your heart fluttered at the admittance.

“Will you be okay tonight?”

“I will. I’m sure he’ll drink himself to sleep the second he arrives home.”

You could tell Eloise didn’t like the sound of that, but she said nothing.

She was grateful that you wanted to spend the day with her tomorrow, not only because she would be eager to see how you were but also because she’d missed your company so very much.

--

Almost two fortnights later, you’re riding in a carriage to a ball with your husband sitting across from you. He grows tired of waiting for you to finally come to be with child. Intercourse with him is nauseating and at this point, you’re praying that your courses don’t come next month for a multitude of reasons.

The ride is sour, as you’ve just had a nasty argument, ending in you being pushed into a table. Your right arm ached still, but you were sure that nothing was broken.

You were excited to escape from your husband and find your dear Eloise the moment the opportunity arose. Your feelings for her made you ever so giddy when you were around her. You felt almost childish at your eagerness to leave your husband and find your friend, but you had been swept into this marriage on your just first season out, which was only last year. It barely gave you any time to enjoy balls with her without courting.

Running around with Eloise at the last ball felt so normal, oddly enough. It was incredibly refreshing to spend the better part of the evening with her, sipping on champagne and cracking jokes. Even though you knew it was slightly improper as you were now married and should have been at your husband’s side, listening to him boast about his fortune and how impatient he was to have an heir with whoever would listen, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It did anger him, however. You had learned so after the last ball when he reprimanded you for almost half of an hour about your behavior as if you were his child and not his wife.

You’d decided to behave for the first hour, at least. It frustrated you so to listen to James drone on to his acquaintances, but you knew it was what needed to be done since he was already on edge from his earlier outburst.

The Bridgertons arrived after you, and you spotted Eloise immediately. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face when you saw the way her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

You squeezed James’ arm absentmindedly out of the excitement you felt. When he looked down at you, you played it off by giving him a look that should have been directed toward Eloise.

That had seemed to satisfy him well enough and he returned to his conversation, allowing you to return to observing your favorite Bridgerton from afar.

Eloise’s hair cascaded over one of her shoulders and two strands of soft curls beautifully framed the sides of her face. Her dress was blue, as it usually was, and it was embellished with embroidered flowers.

You could hardly peel your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to redirect your attention to your husband once more.

After what you deemed an appropriate amount of time, you excused yourself to find more pleasant company.

It seemed as if you had run into almost every Bridgerton before her, though. You greeted all three of her present brothers before finding Violet and Agatha in conversation and curtsying to both. Violet even extended a hand to squeeze yours for a moment, happy to see you.

As soon as you began a conversation with her and Lady Danbury, you were accosted by Eloise, who gripped your arm excitedly. You winced briefly, now bruised from your earlier encounter with the table of your drawing room.

You relaxed your expression and the pinch in your brow was gone once it settled in that you were in Eloise’s presence, she still noticed your discomfort despite your futile efforts to mask it and found herself glancing down at your arm.

Her nostrils flared at what she saw, she had half the mind to find Lord Anderson at that moment, but she looked back up to you and saw the bright grin on your face and melted, a smile of her own growing quickly.

She swiftly looped her arm through yours and began to pull you away, wanting you to herself, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to steal Lady Anderson away. I’ve hardly had any time with her all week.”

The older women chuckled and shook their heads, recognizing this familiar routine that the two of you had been accustomed to last year.

“Have a nice time ladies,” Violet smiled, not even bothering to remind Eloise to attempt to fill a few spots on her dance card. She knew how the girl had missed you, and didn’t have it in her to force her daughter away from you. Violet rather appreciated how cheerful Eloise happened to get whenever you were around, especially at balls, where genuine smiles from the young lady were scarce.

Eloise guided you to a corner of the ballroom, not failing to make a stop at the refreshment table and hand you a lemonade. You were relieved to be by her side at last. There was nothing you had desired more in the past week, where you had only been able to promenade with her once, as James had been irritable.

The longer you were around her, the more you felt the pressure on your chest relieve itself. You were able to breathe so easily around Eloise. You suddenly became aware of the fact that her thumb was passively rubbing your arm and you had to blink a few times, not sure if you were dreaming it.

You ached for her to touch you more. You’d once attempted to imagine that your husband’s hands were hers, but they were far too rough, and you gave up quickly.

Your mind wandered for a moment, but before it could stray too far, you snapped yourself out of it.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you pointed out, turning your head towards your best friend. It was quite unlike her.

She tilted her head in a shrug, “You seem as though you could use a little quiet.”

“You know me far too well, Eloise,” a smile returned to your lips, something she never failed to do, and you shook your head. “But please, if there’s anyone I’d like to hear ramble, it is always you.”

Eloise scoffed in mock offense, “I do not ramble.”

“You do, too,” you teased. “I like it.”

She chortles in response and the two of you hold eye contact. She looks at you with a fondness that you recognize yourself often directing toward her.

Eloise breaks it for a short moment to glance down at your lips.

When she does it once more, you’re suddenly overtaken by instinct and put your lemonade on a serving tray, taking hers and doing the same.

“What-”

Eloise is interrupted by you taking her gloved hand in your own and dragging her out of the ballroom. She doesn’t miss the way you check over your shoulder for your husband, who is heavily occupied, drinking and joking happily with his friends.

You begin making your way into the gardens when you hear Eloise chirp up from behind you.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” she says, not quite like she means it.

You roll your eyes, “Then it’s a good thing you’ve never cared for rules, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” she couldn’t be offended, it was true, and it was exhilarating to be truly alone with you for the first time in such a long while.

You stopped when you’d reached a dead end and you were sure you were not only alone but completely hidden from anyone looking outside.

Eloise tried to stop her mind from racing. She couldn’t be sure of why you had pulled her out of the ballroom. She waited with bated breath to find out, trying to suppress the excitement she felt. You could just be in search of fresh air, or actual silence, which required you to be far enough to hear the music no longer.

Your breathing quickened as you stood in front of her. She took note of it, and against her better judgment, let her eyes flicker to your chest. Then up to your lips, which were parted slightly. Her eyes lingered, before finally meeting your own.

While you badly wanted to tell her everything on your mind, you could hardly form a proper sentence, “El…”

You could hear her breath, ragged from nerves as she took a step closer to you.

There was a question in your eyes. You were grateful that you did not have to utter it. She knew.

She told you that she knew with the glassy nature of her eyes, the parting of her mouth, and her breath fanning across your face as she brought herself closer.

You closed the distance, pressing your lips to Eloise’s. The gentle kiss did not take long to turn eager, almost desperate, both of you feeling free from the sole secret you had kept from each other.

Her lips were soft and warm. They were everything you had dreamed of.

You lost yourself in Eloise, your hands finding their way to her jaw. Your body felt as if it was being lit from the inside when she pressed you into her with a firm hand at the small of your back. Your head almost spun from the contact of her chest against your own.

Despite not wanting to, you pulled away the slightest bit to catch your breath. You did not miss the way she chased your lips.

She had never looked more beautiful. Your heart swelled as she began to smile, which turned into a breathy chuckle.

You shook your head as you joined her with a giggle and let your arms wrap around your neck, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, El. So much,” you whispered.

You felt her breath hitch and her arms tightened around your waist, “I love you too. So very much. It pains me so to watch you from across a ballroom when I want nothing more than to be by your side.”

All of a sudden, your reality came flooding back to you.

“You deserve so much more than that brute that calls himself your husband. He should be honored to spend the time with you that he does. He is a fool for not seeing how precious you are.”

Tears welled in your eyes as she spoke, “I wish I had never married, El. I’m miserable.”

“I know. I’m not sure how much peace this brings you, but you should know that I am here for you, at any time of day or night. You could barge into the Bridgerton house in the late hours of the night and I shall be ready to dissolve your worries with my charming wits and whatever biscuits we can find in the kitchens.”

You found yourself laughing, as you always did in Eloise’s presence, “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” her lips quirked up.

“What are we to do now? About us, I mean.”

“We’re going to have to find a way to get you out of that house of yours however often we can. And if Lord Anderson lays another finger on you I will sic my entire family and Lady Danbury on him. We’ll see how he likes that.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’d say I’m known for being ridiculous, you shouldn’t be surprised,” she raised a brow playfully before looking over her shoulder. “I highly doubt anyone is missing us in there…”

“What might you be suggesting, Miss Eloise,” you ask, feigning innocence.

“I think you know quite well what I suggest.”

[mviswidow]

YES OMG PLEASEEEE I BEG OF YOU TO WRITE ELOISE BRIDGERTON 🙏🙏🙏

IT'S COMING DON'T WORRY 🫡🫡🫡

[mviswidow]

now taking requests for eloise bridgerton bc im fiending for her after watching s3

[mviswidow]

putting this back on the tl bc barely anyone saw it

You're All I Need

Maria Hill x Reader

Word Count: 400

Summary: Before Maria leaves for an unusual mission, your anxieties are getting to both of you, but you have each other, and that's all you need.

Content: angst/comfort

A/N: this may or may not take place before Secret Invasion... it's completely up to interpretation

The steady thump of Maria’s heartbeat and her gentle fingers raking through your hair are the only things keeping you calm as you lay on top of her. 

You hold her tighter and she kisses your forehead. “You’re okay, my love. I’m here.”

“I love you so much,” you reply gratefully.

“Me more, angel.”

You nuzzle into the crook of her neck, your arms around her torso. “Why do you have to leave so soon?”

Maria’s intake of breath is heavy, and you know she doesn’t want to leave you.

“Fury needs me, baby, and he almost never asks for my help anymore these days, now that he knows you’re my priority. I know I promised I’d be all yours this week -“

“It’s okay. I get it,” you interrupt. “I just wish I could be selfish and keep you here. I don’t like knowing that you aren’t safe.”

“I know, darling,” she frowns, putting her strong arms around you and holding you closer to her. 

Maria stays quiet for a while but you can sense her anxiety. Her heart is beating faster and her body is growing stiffer by the minute. She’s scared. You don’t know if she’s scared of what’s waiting for her when she leaves or if she’s scared of leaving you alone but she’s scared of something, and that makes you feel worse, though you don’t tell her that.

Instead, you gently kiss up her neck until you hear her giggle. You lift yourself up a little so you can see her face, straddling her hips in a way. “You okay, Mar?”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and you know she’s about to lie to you, “Always.” 

Maria leans forward and kisses you slowly. You relish in the feeling of her lips on yours, her warm hands on your hips. And then you pull away. “Bullshit.”

“I’ll be fine,” she rolls her eyes.

You raise your eyebrow, “Maria.”

“I’m just nervous. Fury hasn’t contacted me in a while. This seems big. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

You smile softly, feeling pride bloom in your chest, “Well, I have the utmost faith in my fiancé. You are so good at your job. Everything will be okay, beautiful.”

Finally, a real smile grows on her face. It’s small, but it’s there. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you kiss her cheek before pushing her to lay back, settling yourself back into her arms.

[mviswidow]

more than you know

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Nat and R get high together & fuck (a tiny bit of fluff at the end)

Content Warnings: NSFW!! switch!natasha; oral; fingering; marijuana use

A/N: i don't write smut often but i'm hoping this is good🫠

“I’ll take another hit,” Natasha murmurs after a couple minutes of silence, and you nod in response, taking your cart out of your pocket and handing it over. 

“Thanks.”

You manage to look away from the window that held a beautiful view of the city’s skyline that had captivated you both and look over to Natasha, who was just as beautiful (if not more). You watch her inhale, her tolerance is impressive since she doesn’t seem to smoke often. 

“Are you like a secret stoner or something?” You probe, turning to sit facing her, sinking further into the couch.

“I used to smoke when I got back from missions for a couple months but I started to get a little dependent on it so I only smoke weed when I’m offered now. For the most part.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “I have to smoke to get to sleep every once in a while.”

Natasha lazily turns her head in your direction, it urges you to continue.

“It’s usually when I don’t have missions that I have the most trouble getting sleep. I’m less exhausted and my mind kind of just goes everywhere and I get stressed - it becomes a lot to handle sober sometimes.”

“I know the feeling,” she nods, a sad smile on her face.

There’s a lull between the two of you and you study her face. Her eyes look a little squinty but they shine in the darkness nonetheless; her cheeks are tinged a gentle pink color that’s difficult to make out. You’re in a bit of a trance, letting your eyes gaze upon Natasha as you did the city’s skyline - refusing to miss any details. 

The corners of her full lips quirk up into a real smile and she shakes her head, feeling slightly scrutinized by your gaze but knowing better than to believe that you mean for her to feel that way, “What?”

“I’m just looking at you,” you say, as if you’d looked at her that way many times before. (You have, she’s just never caught you.)

“Why?” her brows pinch together.

“I want to. You’re beautiful.”

Natasha’s cheeks are a deeper pink now. Her pupils are dilated and her lips part as she glances down to your own.

“I told myself I wouldn’t do this with you,” she says, and it sounds like she’s reprimanding herself.

“But you want to?” you hum, leaning forward with an eyebrow raised.

“More than you know.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Maybe you should be,” she rasps, pulling you in by the back of your neck and crashing your lips together.

Her lips are softer than you could have imagined but Natasha is rough, eager to explore every inch of you. 

You moan at the sensation of her tongue in your mouth and it spurs her on. She kisses you feverishly and you try to keep up. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing discomfort between your legs.

Natasha bites and pulls at your bottom lip for a quick moment before moving to attack your neck. Your hand comes up to her hair and gets lost in her red tresses, rolling your hips into hers on instinct when you feel her nip at your pulse point.

She hums in satisfaction at your reaction and is quick to situate her thigh in between your legs, giving you some friction.

You suddenly feel her warm fingertips underneath your shirt, ghosting up your torso. They graze the bottom of your breast as she leans back up to kiss you once again, “You’re gorgeous.”

Natasha is more gentle this time and she smiles against your lips when your breath hitches in response to her finding your nipple, rolling it between her fingers and tugging.

“Nat, please,” you gasp when she pinches your nipple, your brain fuzzy from your high and your arousal.

“What do you want, detka?” she murmurs, lifting your shirt over your head. She almost moans at the sight of you. 

Her hot mouth connects with your nipple with haste and your breath leaves you.

Nat chuckles before sucking a hickey on your breast, “C’mon, baby. You can tell me.”

“I need you,” you whimper. “Fuck me, please, Nat.”

She groans against your chest and tugs your sweatpants off. Her hand finds its place between your thighs quickly and you arch into her when she enters you with two fingers.

“God, yes,” you pant, head thrown back as your nails dig into her shoulder.

You can see the satisfaction on Nat’s face as she watches you desperately buck your hips to meet her fingers as they thrust into you. She can’t believe how wet you are for her and it only makes her go faster.

“Can’t be too loud, detka,” she warns you after noticing you’d become pretty loud, drunk off her fingers. “Don’t want to wake anyone up.”

Natasha leans down to kiss you once again, muffling the expletives and moans that had been leaving your mouth. 

You’re sure that your lips will be bruised in the morning but you can’t bring yourself to care because you feel so good. Natasha’s fingers are curling inside you at a fast and steady pace and you know it won’t be long until you’re cumming on her fingers. 

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth and you’re biting it so hard you think you may bleed. 

All you can do is pull Nat closer to you as you throw your head back in ecstasy. She knows you’re close when she starts feeling your muscles clenching, “Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your torso jolts forward and you can’t stop the moan that leaves the back of your throat.

You whine as Natasha works you through your orgasm. She won’t stop until she’s milked as much of it as she can, “That’s it, detka.”

Once you’ve stilled, she removes her fingers from inside of you. You can barely form a thought as you watch her suck her fingers clean before she takes another hit of your cart and blows it up into the air.

Watching her lights a fire inside of you and before you know it, you’re pushing her back on the couch and stripping her of her shorts.

You can tell that her head is swimming from the hit she just took and how fast you’re moving but you don’t give her time to react. You quickly pull down her panties and situate yourself between her legs.

You want to spend time kissing as much of her thighs as you can, but Natasha tangles her fingers in your hair, pushing you down to where she wants you and leaving no room for argument.

You don’t find time to be bothered because all you want right now that you’re in front of her is to hear the beautiful sounds that she makes while you’re bringing her to her climax.

You moan as you lap up the wetness that has collected between her lips, making her hips rut forward.

Nat’s brows knit together when you start to circle her clit with your tongue. Your eyes are glued to her beautiful face as she whimpers quietly, mouth open in pleasure.

Her thighs feel delicious, tightening around your head, and you think this must be what heaven is like. 

Upon entering Natasha with a finger, her heel begins to dig into your back, urging you impossibly closer. 

“More, please,” she croaks, and who are you to deny her of what she wants? 

Nat is reduced to moans when you enter her with another finger and the only thing she seems to remember how to say is your name. You couldn’t be happier.

You pay extra attention to her clit, alternating between sucking and flattening your tongue to give her as much friction as possible as she practically rides your face. 

Without warning, Natasha throws her head back, red fiery hair splaying out on the couch, and lets out a long, low moan. Her fingers tighten in your hair and she holds you in place as she rides out her orgasm.

When she releases your hair, you lick her clean before coming up to kiss her slowly, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

You break away to look at her, really just wanting to admire how beautiful she is for a minute, but you notice that she looks a little sad all of a sudden.

“What is it?” You whisper with haste, now worried that you did something wrong.

“Please tell me this isn’t the last time I get to kiss you.”

You smile in relief, “It won’t be, I promise.”