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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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Just Say It // N.R

Warning(s): cursing, brief mentions of blood & gore, angst w/ a happy ending, long post

You were an anomaly to the team, mostly when it pertained to your abilities and their usage.

When working, rarely was it around the rest of the group. Rather, you’d be sent in after missions for reasons undisclosed to them, or sent alone altogether. If you were along with the team for a mission, it was hard to even entice you to speak.

The team wasn’t complaining about your presence tho, they were rather relieved you’d been around most of the time. Your proficiency in hand to hand combat rivaled that of Natasha’s, so you weren’t a hinderance to their mission, wether with them or away.

But another issue that cloaked you in mystery, was the fact you didn’t live at the compound like the rest of them, and rarely showed to any functions, events, or parties. Tony always extended an olive branch, yet you always denied him with a soft shake of your head.

Somehow, throughout your silent treatment, you got along well with two members of the team in particular.

Wanda was one of them, if outwardly appearance showed correctly. Anytime you were around, whether it be pre-mission planning or taking up space in the common room, you had always had an affliction to Wanda.

You’d sit down next to her with the warm smile you seemed to always bare, and she’d go on to tell you her activities that had transpired the past week. Sometimes she’d discuss her interests, and tried to prod at your own, but you only brushed her off with a wave of your hand.

Next was Natasha, although you were not as friendly to her as much as you were with Wanda. You’d always spar with her, and somehow give her a worthy opponent every time. With your soft smile, and kind eyes, you always lifted her off the mat after putting her on her ass.

And when you both weren’t sparring, you’d sit across the couch from her as she rewatched some spy movie for the millionth time. You never spoke up, and you never ruined the silence that always seemed to befall you both. In the beginning, Natasha felt uncomfortable about your silent presence, but now it had grown to be a constant. The movies never felt the same without you.

It made her wonder what Clint found so terrifying about you.

Clint always paled in your presence, and outright refused missions when you were involved. He’d go so far as to make his exit known whenever you arrived in the same room, and you looked almost sad to see him leave every time.

Natasha asked about it one night, turning the volume down on the TV in hopes that, maybe, you’d speak to her this one time. But you only shook your head, and the apologetic smile upon your face didn’t meet your eyes. You looked sad, and Natasha swore she watched tears well up in your eyes. She felt bad for even asking.

You had been scarce around the compound after that, much more than you were before. You did not linger after missions, and you no longer trained with the team. You’d give them a smile that never reached your eyes, then made your leave every time you had come into contact with them.

The next time Natasha had been around you was relieving, but questionable, considering the rather classified mission Fury had conscripted you both to do.

You both sat in the briefing room, minus the rest of the team, as Director Fury discussed your next mission. It was a recovery mission of a rather dangerous asset, and Fury was adamant on the retrieval of said asset be as easy as possible.

Quirking a brow in Natasha’s direction, Fury seemed to pick up on the question that hid within your gaze.

“She’s only a precautionary measure to ensure the safety of yourself, and the asset.” He said, and you were quick to push yourself from your chair. The stony glare on your face showed that you were not happy with this idea, and Natasha felt offended at the change in your demeanor.

“I know you work alone.” Fury said, not daunted by your uncharacteristic outburst. “But I assure you, she’s there if anything goes south. If the asset steps out of line in anyway, she will prioritize your safety over anything else.”

Fury seemed to turn to Natasha in a silent plea for support, but you were having none of it.

I do not need a guard dog. You signed aggressively, and Natasha was almost shocked to see you communicate with anyone so openly. You’d never signed to the team, and hadn’t even shown any indication that you even knew how.

Another issue came with the fact Natasha had no idea what you were signing to Fury. She had a basic knowledge of sign from what Clint had taught her, but nothing as advanced as you were using.

She almost felt left out of this squabble between you, and the Director.

“She will wear ear plugs throughout the duration of the mission.” Fury said, rubbing his temples to show his growing frustration. “Does that make you happy?”

You aggressively pushed the chair you had been occupying under the table, before slamming the door of the briefing room as you walked out.

“Is she that upset that I’m joining her on the mission?” Natasha spoke up a few moments after they had both been staring at the door in silence.

Fury sighed.

“If she was that upset about you joining her, she would’ve said it.” He said, before pointing toward the door. “Now go get your shit ready for the mission, you’re leaving now.”

—

The entire ride to the extraction point of the asset was silent, and you barely even acknowledged Natasha’s presence besides a few glances from the corner of your eye.

You were obviously upset from the way you kept sighing every time you looked at her, or the hunched way you sat in the copilot seat on the quinjet.

Natasha desperately wanted to discuss what happened in the briefing room, but the ear plugs within her ears caused every sound around her to be silent. Not even the quinjet could be heard, and it was almost unnerving.

She knew better than to question Fury on a precaution like ear protection, but it still left her with questions. What was so worth losing one of her greatest senses for? Why did you not have to wear them?

Finally, the jet landed in an open lot with various warehouses lining the perimeter.

Seemingly knowing the exact one the asset was within, you waved Natasha in the direction you had began walking toward. She followed at a slower pace, allowing herself to gain situational awareness with her vision, rather than relying on her hearing, or lack thereof.

Approaching the warehouse, Natasha noticed blood covering almost the entirety of the concrete floor and littered with corpses. She recognized the uniforms upon the mutilated bodies, and realized they were belonging to SHEILD agents.

Her hand moved to the gun holstered upon her thigh, but you caught her wrist to stop her. You shook your head, before trudging deeper in the darkness of the warehouse.

As both your eyes adjusted to the lack of light, there was a girl standing alone among the bodies. Like a grotesque centerpiece to the carnage.

The girl noticed your presence but before she could advance on your position, you opened your mouth to speak, causing the girl to stop in her tracks.

Natasha could not hear a single word coming from your mouth, and couldn’t exactly read your lips from standing next to you, but she knew you were speaking. It was daunting to see such a thing, and it seemed so out of character.

What the hell was going on?

You approached the girl, and when Natasha moved to follow, your jutted out your palm as an indication for her to stay behind. She felt uneasy about it, but listened to your instruction.

You continued to speak to the girl as you approached, if your jaw moving was any indication as Natasha was forced to stare at your back.

Minutes ticked by that felt like hours as your approached the mutant girl, and once you were within arms reach of her, the girl seemed to collapse into your arms. You hoisted up her unconscious form easily, and began to make your way back to the jet.

Even as Natasha piloted the quinjet back to the compound, the uneasy feeling had yet to leave her gut.

—

Upon returning, the recovered mutant asset was met with armored SHEILD agents anticipating her arrival. They took her unconscious body from your grasp before restraining her in a multitude of ways, and you watched from the jet as the carted her away.

Once the asset was out of sight with her cavalry of agents, Natasha was quick to rip the plugs from her ears. You turned to her with that warm smile upon your face again, but it fell the moment you noticed how tense she had become.

“What the hell was that?” Natasha said, and you seemed bewildered as you held up your hands in silent defense. She quickly slapped your hands down. “Don’t give me that, I know you can speak.”

You took a defensive step back, and your eyes glanced toward the door into the compound. The cogs of your brain started to turn, and Natasha noticed you were thinking of making a break for it. She then took a step to the left, ultimately blocking your exit.

You glared at her.

“Are you not going to answer me?” Natasha said, her tone still aggressive. She realized frustration began to tense at your muscles too, and she decided to see how far she could push this until your resolve for silence finally broke.

“Why is that murderous girl so worthy of you to speak to her, but not even the team? Not even me?” She spoke. Your frustrated glare turned questionable when you had realized her words, until you remembered you were upset with her sudden outburst, and your gaze became hostile again.

Your eyes were still glancing toward the door, calculating your possible escape even as she grew more aggressive toward you. Natasha realized she was going to have to push your frustration harder as she stepped into your personal space, practically chest to chest with you now.

“Seriously?” Natasha scoffed. She noticed the muscles of your jaw begin to tighten, but you made no effort to regain your personal space. Your eyes screwed shut, and you refused to even look at her anymore as she continued to assault you with questions.

“Did you think I was just going to let this go?” Natasha continued to chastise you, and you shook your head as your eyes remained shut. “Why have you never spoke to us?”

Your lips twitched, and Natasha froze as she watched you. She was hoping to hear you say something, but realized she had pressed you too far the moment she noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks.

Using her shoulder to shove her away, you retreated toward the doorway as you aggressively wiped the tears from your eyes.

Natasha watched the door slam shut behind you once again, and she felt guilt replace that uneasy feeling inside her. She realizes now she shouldn’t have chastised you as hard as she did, considering your desperation to even try to speak to her.

Then, without a sound Clint approached from behind her as she watched your retreat.

“She’s as silent as ever, I see.” Clint said, with a slight resentment in his tone, and his sudden presence caused Natasha to jump. He glanced her over, with a question on his brow. “She mess’ you up that bad?”

“What is that suppose to mean?” Natasha said, but Clint didn’t fail to notice her grow defensive once again.

“You mean to tell me she didn’t speak to you?” He asked, and now Natasha was growing confused all over again. “That’s not what that whole ordeal was about?”

“Great. Now you’re both being cryptic.” Natasha sighed, with a roll of her eyes. She shook her head, before sighing. “Why do you even despise her so much?”

“I don’t despise her.” Clint said, in a matter of fact tone that furthered Natasha’s sour mood. “I actually owe her our friendship, but it cost the friendship I had with her.”

“If you’re going to keep speaking in riddles, you might as well just shut up.”

“Natasha, I was going to kill you.” Clint said, with a heavy sigh as if the weight of that mission still sat upon his shoulders. “She’s the reason I didn’t release the arrow.”

—

He remembered the mission briefing, and how hesitant you had been to even participate in such an endeavor. Clint could see it on your face, especially when you glanced his way to see if he agreed with your uncertainties.

“Clint will deliver the killing blow.” Fury spoke, and you cringed at the idea. You were always the passive one in the friendship between you, and Clint. “And if he somehow misses-”

You raised a hand to stop Fury’s tangent, already knowing where it was going to go.

Even after the briefing was over you remained behind in silence, even as Fury had vacated the room. Clint stared at you in silence, and you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“You don’t think we should do it.” Clint’s voice filled the air, and you sighed even hearing such words spoke aloud.

This is not right. You signed, and it was his turn to sigh.

“She’s dangerous.”

She’s a victim.

“We don’t know her intentions.”

Why not help her?

“Let’s just go, perform the mission, and leave it behind us.” He groaned, and rubbed his hand across his face. “That’s all we can do.”

Weeks passed from such conversation between you, and your closest friend. And now, you both sat atop a roof within a city you couldn’t pronounce to track the target you had been searching for.

She had only moved below the cover of night, and her head swiveled around herself as she walked through the alleyway. Clint pulled the string of his bow taught as he trained his aim upon her back, he released a steady breath in preparation to release the arrow.

That was, until you spoke up.

“Don’t shoot.” You said calmly, barely loud enough for him to hear you.

Clint’s body began to tingle with a warm feeling prickling at his skin, opposing the harsh cold air of the night upon the rooftop. He turned toward you with an absolute look of betrayal upon his face.

His body worked against every plea he had to complete the mission assigned to both of you, to release the arrow within his hand. But rather, Clint replaced the arrow within his quiver.

“Stop!” Clint plead, but his body made no effort to oppose your words. “She’s dangerous, we can’t allow her to live.”

“Look at her.” You said, and his head snapped in her direction. “She’s not much different from a scared kid.”

“More like a cornered animal.”

“Either way, I think she’d be a good agent for SHIELD.” You said, and he grit his teeth at the words he knew were about to leave your mouth. With a look of sympathy, you spoke again. “Go recruit her.”

Clint grit his teeth in attempted defiance, before his body forced himself to perform your words. You watched as he approached the red headed woman in the alleyway below, before turning away to make your way toward the extraction point.

You were happy to see Clint arrive awhile after you, with the red head in tow.

During the debrief of the mission, Fury was beyond furious with both of your performances during the mission, although you took all the blame. You had betrayed Clint’s trust, and had gone off mission with an unauthorized use of your power against a fellow agent.

You were lucky that the only thing destroyed after the mission was your close friendship with Clint, considering Fury had half a mind to toss you into a super human prison for your insubordination. The only thing riding on your freedom was the possibility that Natasha might become a true asset to SHIELD.

—

“If you betrayed the agency, she was going to be sent to a maximum security prison for life.” Clint said in summary of his story, with a heavy sigh. “She risked everything.”

Natasha shook her head, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the story shared. “Why’d you listen if you were so adamant on killing me?”

“You don’t get it do you?” Clint said, with confusion creasing his brow. “She has the power of absolute suggestion. Everything she says has to be enacted out by anyone who hears, no matter the circumstance.”

Everything that conspired had suddenly began to make more, and more sense. Like your oath of silence, and Fury mentioning you would’ve said that you didn’t want Natasha to join you.

Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to chase after you flooded within Natasha. She quickly apologized to Clint, before rushing through the door she saw you escape to only awhile ago.

“Where is she?” Natasha asked the few teammates within the common room. Wanda hadn’t even looked up from the book in her lap, but rather just lifted a hand to point down the hallway behind her. She could hear Natasha’s rushed footsteps fade as she continued to chase after you.

Finally, Natasha was able to see your retreating form down the hallway, and her steps began to pick up.

“Wait!” She called out to you, fearing that you were once again going to run away from the questions, from the team, from her.

Much to her surprise, you stopped before turning her way. There were still tear tracks stained across your cheeks, and Natasha suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty. You had risked everything to allow Natasha to be here, a part of the greatest team of superheroes to exist, and as payment she had left you crying.

Rather than speaking, Natasha simply rushed forward to wrap you within a hug. You seemed overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection from the usually bristly assassin, and wondered just where this uncharacteristic outburst had come from.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled into your shoulder, and she felt you tense under her grasp. Pulling away, Natasha placed her hands upon our cheeks to wipe away the aftermath of your crying.

You continued to stare at her in confusion, before shaking your head as much as you were able as a silent way to tell her don’t be.

“I am.” Natasha pleaded with you. She felt tears prick at her eyes, as the feelings bubbling within her began to grow overwhelming. Leaning forward, she placed her forehead against your own as she closed her eyes.

“You we’re the only person who believed in me, who thought I deserved a second chance.” Natasha said, her voice wavering as she willed herself not to sob. “You risked everything, and looking back, even I think that was a stupid decision! I was a loaded gun just waiting for the perfect opportunity to go off, and we both would’ve faced the consequences of those actions.”

You looked at her, and if she opened her eyes, she’d see the soft smile that sat upon your face. You had begun crying with her, and she continued to rant about you.

“Why?” She asked you before a sob ripped through her chest. “What made you look at me, and think I deserved mercy? I was cold blooded, and ruthless.”

Rather than waiting for her to finish her rant, you silenced her yourself as you leaned against her to place a gentle kiss upon her lips. You sighed into the kiss, and you felt her tension melt into you.

Pulling away from you, she shook her head as fresh tears began to fall down her cheeks. You reached up to wipe them away, before tucking a stray red lock behind her ear.

“Because I love you, Natasha Romanoff.”

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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PAULINA CHAVEZ AS FLORA

FATE: THE WINX SAGA (2021- )

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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Cradle

Masterlist

"We need to get rid of the cradle."

Nat's voice brought you back.

It wasn't the same voice that woke you up tonight. Not the dark honey liquor that used to calm you for years. Now it was the sound of barely rotten wood with hollow emotionless vibrations.

It was a stark contrast with joyful colors. Heroes of old folklore were laughing from the walls. Reminder, that you wanted to make this room special, unique, and welcoming.

You felt your wife's look. She was waiting for your answer. It was time you gave her at least something. Anything.

You turned on your heels and simply left. Nat didn't move, she didn't try to follow you. You knew, your wife wanted to help, to fix you. But the truth didn't need to be fixed. You needed something else. Neither of you knew what.

____

You didn't want to go.

You hated the compassionate words, you despised the looks full of pity. You didn't want to survive these friendly meetings. Your wound would open again, leaving the bloody trails all over the sincere friendliness.

You were never a jealous person, but Avenger's families reminded you what you lost. What was ripped from your stomach.

You could feel the scar open and pulsate.

"It's Burton's birthday." Natasha was leaning on the door of your bedroom. As If she needed something more monumental to keep her posture.

"I won't go." You were searching for your medicine in the drawer.

"We don't have to stay there for long. An hour maximum. Just to say hi."Natasha was pleading, asking, begging.

You didn't remember when you were a couple. When you laughed, kissed, had sex, talked, shared a thought. Two ghosts living under one roof. At least Nat tried. You didn't give her the pleasure of forgiveness.

"And after hi?" your annoyance flinched. But you didn't look at her. "What are they going to say? What are they going to ask?"

You both knew the answer. Raw and disgusting. You had those conversations. Many times. Those "I hope you're doing OK. How do you feel? Can we help you? What are you planning next?" ones. So many times they ended in your tears and Nat's anger.

Both of you didn't blame anyone, but it was still too soon.

"We will avoid that." your wife already felt a familiar lump in her throat. Rejection. "We will do what you want. What we want. No questions. Just us together."

You sighed.

You knew those awkward moments. Just the two of you, avoiding certain topics and not looking each other in the eyes. Who would enjoy that? Months passed and you still felt the salt of the tears from the day it all happened.

"No." You said firmly. "But you can go. He's your friend. You should be with him."

___

Phantom pain of loss for you was palatable. You were not so sure about your wife.

Your marriage was falling apart. You thought Natasha didn't want to feel it. She was as if unaffected. Tiny routines you shared vanished.

"What is this?" You noticed a few empty boxes in the garage.

"Oh." Nat was caught off guard near the stairs with another box in her hands. She didn't expect you to wake up so early in the morning. "I thought we could rearrange a few things. Keep something in the garage, give to the charity stuff we don't need anymore."

"And what bothers you so much, Natasha?" You were studying her, she was afraid to make the wrong move. Her hands, usually so ready for action, were trembling. The box long forgotten on the floor.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. It would be our decision. Maybe we need to change..."

You let out half laugh, half growl. Tension was building up. Ghost of your loss, that reminded you so much of your wife, appeared so close to you.

"You're so good at making decisions, aren't you?"

She acknowledged your question. There were tears in her eyes. Forests of her orbs turned into swamps.

"You wanted to get rid of the cradle? Toys? Clothes?" you pushed. "Come on, Natasha. I'll help you."

You grabbed the box, almost ran to the joyless room, opened the door, chose the nearest shelf. So many toys, so many colors, so much love. You threw the unicorn, he hit the plastic. Lion, parrot, cat and fish followed his fate.

"Why don't you come here, Natasha?" you were choosing the clothes that was ought to vanish. "Let's get rid of these painful memories together."

Your wife walked in, leaving the sanity behind for both of you. Your movements were making fun of her. Mimicking her confidence, Devouring her calm.

"Is this what you want?" You threw the box to her feet. "Make a decision to get rid of this? To never be reminded how you made a decision not to give our daughter a chance?"

"It's not what I want and that's not what happened." her usually stoic expression was broken beyond repair, with immense pressure in every vein.

"Then what happened?" your tears were bursting from your heart. "How am I alive and she is not?"

"You think it's easy for me? It was easy?'' The air was becoming too heavy to breathe. She was stuttering. "What was I supposed to do?"

"We were supposed to decide this together." Bitterness froze the time. Joy in this room was gone forever.

"There was no time for that. Minutes, seconds..."

"Why is it not unbearable for you, Natasha? Why can you continue living? Why don't you suffocate?"

Each question was a dagger, rusty, disgusting, fatal. "It's not easy for me. I loved her. Just as you did. I still love her. Just as you do." Natasha was slowly getting on her knees. "But I wouldn't be able to live without you. I couldn't lose you. She was my daughter, but you are my soul. And I would see you in her. And without you we would inevitably disappear from each other's lives."

That confession was forced. Natasha was pushing the truth down your throat. You instinctively touched your scar.

"You have me. Even a better version of me. Barren one."

"Don't say that." She hid her face in her hands, too afraid to hear your words.

"You never had her under your heart. Never heard her heartbeat with every fiber. And now I lost that gift. I don't think we feel the same way, Natasha."

____

You left your wife on her knees. You didn't look back. You needed to be alone. You never wanted to torture Natasha. You knew, you were fighting grief in your own different ways. But still... How she couldn't understand that there was no point in keeping the same life? You were supposed to start anew and Natasha was the one who wasn't ready, who wasn't hurt enough. You remembered her face, when you opened your eyes after anesthesia. It was a mask of pain, but now once again it was full of other emotions.

You decided to spend your night at the hotel and your evening at the bar. It was easy, it was predictable. It didn't take long for a blond to join your table. She wasn't from this town, she forgot to take off the conference badge.

"Business or leisure?" she chirped with a weightless voice.

"None of the above."

"Well, I'm sure I could provide a little bit of both." She tried to wink, but it wasn't her first drink.

One could say, she was beautiful, you could say that she wasn't your wife. Her life was simple, she put the story for you on a plate. You chew on her directness. Her suit wasn't appropriate for the weather. Too warm, too dark.

She was searching for a one night stand somewhere where she could be another person. Just for a night. A loved one just for a moment. You were humming your short responses, more concentrated on your next sip. "

Would you like to join me?"

You didn't hide your hand from hers. Your fingers touched. She wasn't warm like Natasha, but she wasn't a reminder of your pain.

"That's not a good idea."

She shyly smiled, her eyes undressing you.

"Whatever it is, honey, we'll forget it for the night."

The proposal was tailored to fit you perfectly. Nat's voice that was part of your conscience was fading away.

"Will you help me?"

She nodded, her head being delightfully empty. Her body being in charge.

"I'm married." You whispered to yourself.

"I know." She pointed at your finger. "and I'm not going to steal you from her. Relax."

She took your hand, you followed her. In the elevator, she was posing in front of the mirror. Surely she wanted an adventure. This line was supposed to bring you peace after crossing. She tried so hard. Natasha was never like this. Was this how it was supposed to be from now on? All women being compared to an ideal. They would always lose. You still loved her.

"I'm not a good enough adventurer."

___

When you returned home, Natasha was at work. Wicked box still in the room. Others were still in the garage. You noticed one of them wasn't empty anymore. Empty photo albums, film and a vintage Leica.

You turned a few pages. Your wife's handwriting everywhere.

"First cry, first word, first holiday, first bite..." You started sobbing. This was the book of life, Natasha wanted to give your daughter. From her first day, to your last. On the last page of the first album there were a few sentences, ink smudged from crying.

"I was asking for her forgiveness." Nat's vulnerability suddenly pierced the air.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know."

You carefully put the box back. She wasn't judging you. She was there with you, for you.

"I didn't know..."

"I was ready to give her everything and capture every moment of her life." her jaw clenched. "You're right. We don't feel the same way. But it doesn't mean that a part of me didn't die that day."

_____

Yelena called you at 3 am. You were driving as fast as you could.

"What happened?" your coat was over your robe.

"Grenade."

Your sister in law gave you a rib crushing hug. She knew how worried you were, even though you didn't show it.

Yelena didn't leave out a single detail. Especially about her sister's recklessness.

You heard Nat's moans in the corridor. And when you entered she wasn't quick enough to hide the bruises and wounds under her clothes. Doctor left with a reassuring smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your sister called me." You checked the painkillers your wife was given. Strong ones. "You need to change your approach."

"Nothing to change. A standard operation."

"Not what she said to me." You crossed your arms on your chest. You forgot what it was like to care. "You decided to fight alone against the whole group. And it's not the first time."

"I'll talk to her." Nat put her gun back in the holster. She had to be fearless. If not that, how could she be suitable for you.

"Wait." You sighed. "Your bandage."

Natasha shivered from your touch. The one on her wrist wasn't tight enough. You used to know this body so well and now it was foreign for you. It didn't take long for you to fix the fabric, Nat sitting across the medical table.

"I'm sorry you're at the hospital." She tried to control her shaking. You looked at her. The magic of a forgotten touch returned for a few moments. Maybe for a second you even forgot your tragedy.

"It's fine." You almost smiled. Natasha was safe. It didn't matter that you were blinded by sterile light. The same as it was months ago.

"Why are you here?"

"We've worked together. Remember? I'm still your senior officer." You traced your shoulder, where the stripe was supposed to be. "I've known about the change in the attitude, in the preparation. But today was different. You could die, if it wasn't for your teammate. You can't continue like this. You're not invincible."

"I've got nothing to lose." Nat hesitantly caught your wrist. She was gentle. "If I'm not fearless, what's the point?"

You stood up, you earned a hiss of disappointment.

"Your sacrifice won't bring her back. And our family has already lost enough."

____

You slept in an empty bed only when Natasha was at work. Not a single night, when your wife chose to, only when she had to. You wanted to help her with her nightmares, she wanted to give you comfort. Even after the tragedy you were falling asleep together.

But tonight you were woken up by a familiar cry of horror. You almost fell from your side. Nat was heavily breathing and sweating.

"It's OK, it's OK." You instinctively pulled her tensed body closer. Nat's forehead on your shoulder reminded you of the first intimate nights together. With shared secrets, passionate kisses and filthy moans. So much time passed.

"Hey, remember our reality check?" You cupped her face with your burning palms. "Name?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Location?"

"H-home?" Her voice was breaking.

"Home." You echoed. "And why is it always safe here?"

"My family..." Nat blinked away the tears. "... Was..."

"Is here, ballerina. Your family is always with you."

______

In a few weeks Nat was holding your hand while walking. You needed it. You were supporting each other. You stopped near the door of your gynecologist.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you to the doctor?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not..." You inhaled sharply. "I'm not ready yet..."

The door opened. "Mrs Romanoff, we are waiting for you." The nurse was too cheerful for your taste, but you had to go through with this appointment.

"Everything's going to be OK. I'm always holding your hand." Nat kissed your palm.

___

You were surprised by a phone call. Nat wanted to spend a few weeks in a cabin. You agreed immediately.

Lately you were stifled by the emptiness of your apartment. When you got there, the sun was giving the last bright kiss to the forest.

Nat's eyes being the emeralds they were always meant to be.

She kissed your neck, while you were cooking. You caught her by the waist and bit her lip. It didn't take long for both of you to forget about the dinner.

You followed Nat's clumsy lead. You forgot how shy she was. But you still remembered what she needed the most. What she deserved to have all this time. To be loved and adored. That night you were apologizing again and again, giving her the strongest sensations one after another.

Your wife was whispering your name with ardor you thought wasn't possible. You were rediscovering each other. Your every day there was carefree. Almost. Sometimes your pillow was wet from your tears. And Nat was spending her time alone far from you.

But you were getting there. Gradually, painfully your scar was disappearing from your body.

When it was time to leave you gave Nat something she thought was long forgotten. Her camera.

"I want this to be the beginning of our new life." You kissed her ring. "I know, I'm going to need so much more time to accept everything. But if you're still willing to... "

Nat didn't answer. Her first photo was her wife smiling for the first time in 12 months.

When you returned home, you asked for the boxes. You were ready to hide the cradle.

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

Text

Someone Like You - Series [Completed]

gif creds: @bruce-wayne

Summary: When Thanos’ snap takes away your wife, you’re left to navigate the new world with a newborn alone. Your ex-teammate and old flame shows up at your doorstep post-battle and you’re no longer alone.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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Dinosaurs fell in love

A/N: Okay so hi, I’m back and sadly this isn’t a request but I’m working on it I promise. I’ve been in a really bad rut lately and haven’t been feeling motivated to do anything but sleep. Butttttt I’m feeling a bit better now and intend to get a few more fics out over the next few days. Y’all can thank TikTok for this one. It’s short, really sad, and I think a great way for me to come back :).

Warnings: Angst

Taglist: @natasha-danvers @natalia-quinzel

“Can we make a song Mommy?”

You looked down at your four-year-old daughter and couldn’t help but chuckle at the hope and excitement in those bright green orbs. They reminded you so much of Natasha’s.

“Of course baby,” leaning down you scooped her up before placing her on your lap so that her back was against your stomach. “What do you want the song to be about?”

“Dinosaurs!” The little girl exclaimed in excitement. Her hands shot up, landing on the piano in front of you and striking a few unpleasant chords.

Laughing you gently took her small hands and placed them in her lap. “Why don’t you let Mommy play while you sing baby?” The little girl nodded her H/C hair vigorously with a wide smile.

You positioned your hands and began to play a soft melody, completely improvising. Your daughter sat in silence for a moment before she opened her mouth and began to sing.

“Dinosaurs eating people, Dinosaurs in love.”

A warm smile found its way on your face and you found yourself swaying side to side a bit to the melody.

“Dinosaurs having a party, they eat fruit and cucumber.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in your chest while you looked down at her. She looked up at you with a wide smile.

“They fell in love.”

Raising a playful eyebrow you tilted your head. “Then what did they do?”

“They say thank you.”

The innocence and randomness of it all squeezed your heart with an almost painful amount of joy. You continued to play waiting to hear what other ideas her little imagination could come up with.

You wouldn’t be entirely surprised if they somehow found themselves on a spaceship.

“A Big Bang came a-and they died.”

Your smile faltered a bit at her words, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Your hands slowed a bit on the keys yet as if they had a mind of their own, continued to play as if they themselves wanted to hear what happened next.

“Dinosaurs Dinosaurs fell in love but they didn’t say goodbye.”

A pang of pure sadness hit you deep in your heart. You couldn’t wrap your head around how fast this small upbeat song about two in love dinosaurs had taken such a dark turn so suddenly, nor did you have time.

“But they didn’t say good…bye.”

Almost numbly, you played the last few notes before letting your hands rest beside you. Slowly you looked down at the child in your lap who was also looking down, her hands seemingly beyond fascinating.

“Aria…” Your voice was shakier than you would have liked it to be but it was too late now. When the little girl didn’t look up at you—you gently picked her up and turned her around so that she was facing you.

Hooking your finger under her chin you lifted her chin so that she would look at you. The sadness you found in her eyes that were oh so bright and happy just a minute ago was enough to bring you to your knees.

Gulping down the lump in your throat you took a deep breath. “Why did the dinosaurs have to die?” The little girl blinked a few times, tears welling in her small eyes.

“Because Mama did.”

Your eyes slipped shut as her words stabbed your heart and shredded it into a million pieces. “Baby I-“

“And she didn’t say goodbye.”

Your words died right there in your throat and your eyes snapped open. Aria’s voice had been watery with her last statement and not a second later she burst into tears. You instantly pulled the little girl into a tight hug to which she flung her arms around your neck and sobbed into it.

Your fingers tangled themselves in your daughter’s hair as tears of your own began to fall freely. “I-I miss Mama.” The young girl sobbed harder.

All you could do was hold her tighter and nod. “I know baby. I know, I do too, and I’m so sorry.”

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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Prompt 3 with Natasha omg

a/n: wow this was rly fucking depressing :’)

3: Please, just stay a little longer.

word count: 0.7k

warning: death

“Oh god, please no.”

A wretched laughter rang across the room, the sound of intermittent beeping temporarily drowned out. The hospital rarely hears such mirthful sounds, and with the door slightly open, Natasha was sure the entire wing could hear. But she didn’t care, because seeing you happy was worth anything in the world she could trade for.

“Come on, Widow. You don’t think you can take two grapes at the same time?” You teased amusingly.

“Alright, alright. Bring it on.” She chuckled, and braced herself. You brought your arm up and the grapes flew from your palms. Natasha anticipated the trajectory, but only managed to catch one in her mouth as the other bounced off her nose.

There was your laugh again, the sound like music to her ears. She shook her head and settled back into her chair, as your giggles died down.

“What?”

“I’m just looking at you.” Nat smiled dumbly.

This prompted a chuckle from you. “Don’t flatter me. Seven years along and still sticking with that old trick, huh?”

She shrugged, the charming smile still upon her lips. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Seems to work just fine.”

You lay back against the propped up bed, eyes upwards with a small smile lingering.

“Nat.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to promise me something.” You said, gazing at her with your head tilted. “Promise me that you’ll at least try and be happy. Promise that you won’t be so hard on yourself, and that you’ll take care of yourself.”

The smile on her face had disappeared. “It’s not fair.”

“Well, life is rarely ever fair.” You shrugged.

Nat drew closer, and took your hand, carefully as not to disturb the tube in your arm, and brought it to her face. She sighed into it, and only after she kissed it gently did you notice she was crying.

“You know my perspective on religion.” She said. “But lately I’ve found myself praying, for all of this to be behind us. For you to get better.”

You sighed quietly. “Last night I had a dream.”

Your head was growing heavy, so you lay it back down. After a few minutes, you spoke. “I had a dream that I woke up in a house, our house, and you were sleeping next to me. The sun was shining through the window, and I looked down and there was a ring in my left hand. We were married! And you woke up, I kissed you, and we went to the kitchen to get breakfast. And I was okay.”

Nat listened, tears forming and growing heavy at the corner of her eyes. She had read about how those who are about to go would get this random burst of energy, as if they would be fine right before they would pass. She grew more worried the more your words slurred.

“Please, just stay a little longer.” She whispered, like a prayer. “Please, Y/N, do you hear me?”

“And I told you . . .” you said, your eyes trained at the ceiling, “I told you that I had a surprise for you. And that . . . I was pregnant.” You laughed weakly. “We’re going to have a baby, Nat. We’re gonna have a little baby!”

You hand gripped around hers as you wheezed out, but your glazed eyes looked straight past her.

“Yeah, детка.” Nat said, sobbing quietly.

“Why are you crying?” Your voice was barely audible now.

“It’s ‘cause I’m so happy.”

Your frown curved upwards. “Good, good . . . I want you . . . happy.”

Nat clutched your hand and kissed it, a loud sob clawing at her throat. Your eyes closed, but your chest was still rising and falling.

She stayed there for what felt like hours, listening to your breath getting more heavy and stuck in your throat.

“It’s okay, baby.” She said, “I know you’re fighting so hard, but you don’t have to anymore. It’s okay. Let go, I love you and I’m right here.”

You drew a breath, and for the quickest moment, Nat thought she felt your hand squeezing back.

The monitor sounded a long beep, and you went to sleep.

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do an angst one shot w/nat, in which it is a sad ending with nat feeling guilty plz? Here’s a bribe cookie🍪 and lots of love ❤️

I wanted to write a story kinda sorta inspired by Softcore by The Neighbourhood, so here you go. I hope you all like it. 😁

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Forever Eighteen

✎ | Natasha Romanoff x Reader | 2,576 words | angst | mentions of death

It was the light taps against your face that slowly pulled you out of your dreamless slumber, the darkness that had engulfed you in your sleep was the same when you opened your eyes. Yet, even in the blackness, you could just make out a figure hovering above you, your hands tugging against the cuffs in a failed attempt to defend yourself. It was enough to put you on high alert, your eyes widening and your mouth opening, but the hand clamping over your mouth forced you to swallow your scream. It wasn't until a light, familiar laughter reached your ears that you managed to calm down.

"Relax, detka." Natasha's voice was always soothing, soft and gentle. And when she felt your muscles ease underneath her touch, she slowly removed her hand from your mouth. “Hold still.” You released a breath as you felt her hands against yours, fondling with the handcuffs briefly before you felt the metal fall away from your wrists. She was quick to pull you to a sitting position. You could hear the striking of a match a split second before her face was illuminated in a small fire settling between the two of you. You immediately sought the brilliant green of her irises, the slight twitch of her lips as she smirked when the two of you made eye contact. You both seemed to get lost in each other, too scared to break the gaze, but it had to be done. The flame was getting dangerously low on the wooden match she was holding between her fingers.

You followed her gaze to look down, spotting a cupcake held on a small, flimsy paper plate in her other hand. She quickly lit the single candle and waved the match out.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," Natasha expressed, smiling widely at you when you looked back at her.

“‘Tash, I- Where did you even get a cupcake from?”

"Don't worry about it," she assured you, gesturing towards the candle. "Blow it out and make a wish."

You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, looking around the rest of the room that was hidden in the darkness before averting your eyes back down to the candle, a smirk lifting your lips. And when you finally blew out the flickering flame, killing off the only source of light, Natasha chuckled softly, feeling the bed shift under her weight as she leaned closer to you. You were aware of your heart beating in your throat, fear constricting your limbs. “We should get back to bed,” you breathed out, too low to even be considered a whisper. “We’re going to get in trouble.”

She released a soft sigh, her breath faintly fanning over your jaw. She seemed… disappointed. You could see her shadowed form in the dark when she moved, her weight lifting off the bed when she stood up. “Don’t you want your present, Y/N?” And though you couldn’t make out her features, you could hear the sly smirk she was wearing on her lips. “Come on.” There was a voice in the back of your head telling you to stay, but the voice was easily shoved away by how loud your heart was thumping in your ears when you instinctively reached forward, blindly meeting Natasha’s hand.

She didn’t hesitate to pull you to your feet, gripping your hand tightly as she led you out of the dark room as if she had done this a million times before. She was careful to not draw attention to herself, and the fear that bled through your veins was enough to keep you directly behind her. It wasn’t much longer before you made it out into the hall, illuminated by the familiar dim lights, yet it was enough to cause you to squint at the sudden brightness.

When she released your hand, you couldn’t stop the slight frown that plagued your lips at the loss of contact. Thankfully, her back was to you, leaving her oblivious to the expression as you followed her down the hall. And you kept silent as she led the way, taking turns seemingly strategically, walking as if she was following a map she had memorized. Yet, you didn’t question it. Natasha was always the one bending the rules in the slightest, least noticeable way possible. And she was always the one to get away with it. Now that you were tagging along, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Natasha made you feel a bit less nervous.

“Over here.” She waved at you to continue following her, and you hadn’t realized you had stopped walking. You continued, accepting the small plate that held the cupcake and watching her jump up to reach for something on the ceiling. You turned to look over your shoulder, eyes scanning the empty area behind you as she laughed in success. “Got it.”

You looked back towards her in time to see her pull a string, collapsible stairs falling to the floor and forcing you to step away. You released a breathy laugh, looking at her as she sent you a wink. “How-”

“Don’t worry about it,” she expressed with a slight chuckle when shook your head, though the small smirk that tugged a corner of your lips didn’t go unnoticed by her. “Come on, we don’t have much time.” Your eyes trailed after her as she walked up the stairs, the wood that seemed like it should creak and bend under her weight, but it was nothing but silence as she disappeared into the attic. Not wanting to be left alone in the hall, you were quick to follow her, but once you made it to the top, her voice could be heard from the darkness, “Make sure you pull the attic up.”

You turned to face the stairs, releasing a breath as you quickly looked for a safe space in this dusty area to place the cupcake down. You could feel your shoulders weigh down with pressure as you got down to a knee, balancing the plate in one hand as you reached for the stairs with the other. You could hear Natasha say your name from behind, a slight groan in exertion coming from your lips as you finally managed to pull the stairs up in a rush, climbing to your feet and following Natasha’s playful calls.

The attic was lit up by the rays of the moon slipping in through the boarded windows, a feeble attempt to prevent any escape in an area nobody dares to venture. You were curious, wondering if anybody knew about the attic and, if so, how to access it. You wondered how the hell the redhead knew about the gritty location, having made a beeline for it as if she had been here multiple times before.

“‘Tash, should we really be up here?” Your voice was low, wanting her to hear you, but not wanting anybody else to be alerted. You were unsure if your voice could be heard through the floor, but you didn’t want to take the chance. You rounded the corner, catching her standing in front of a bay window, the only form of escape that wasn’t boarded up. You stopped walking when your eyes landed on her, silhouetted by the moonlight. “We really should be in bed. What if D-”

“He won’t find us,” she assured you, gesturing for you to come. “Besides, we’ll only be here for a few minutes. I just want you to see this.” You seemed to have been frozen to the ground, forcing her to click her tongue and close the distance between you and her. You watched the cupcake wobble slightly on the plate as she guided you back to the window, climbing to sit on the sketchy wood that formed a seat big enough for the both of you.

You watched Natasha take the plate from your hand, setting it in between you as you stared at her. She sent you a smile, turning her head to look out the window, but you seemed to have been caught in a trance. You admired her, tracing her jawline, her lips, her nose, feeling your breath catching in your throat. You were always memorized by Natasha’s beauty, but there was something about the way the light was hitting her right now.

“What do you think?”

“Beautiful.” The word left your mouth before you had time to fully process her question, her smile widening as she turned her head back towards you. Having been caught goggling pulled you out of your trance, blinking rapidly as you looked out the window. “Yeah, the- The stars are really… beautiful.” You cleared your throat, your cheeks growing hot the longer you could see her stare at you from the corner of your eye.

Silence settled around the two of you like a silk scarf, loose and comfortable. It wasn’t until she slightly nudged you with her elbow that you looked away from the night sky, seeing her offer half of the cupcake that you had completely forgotten about. “The big one-eight, huh?” She smirked, pinching a part of the frosting between her thumb and index finger to bring it to her mouth. “Ah, you’re still a kid to me.”

You rolled your eyes, looking down at the cake in your hand as you scoffed. “You’re not that much older than me, ‘Tash.” You smiled, furrowing your eyebrows slightly with a soft sigh. “This life… Is this who we are now?” You picked your head up, meeting her curious gaze and you could feel your heart rapidly beat against your chest vigorously. “We’re graduating soon. And then he’ll release us out into the world, but we’ll still be under his command.”

“Y/N-”

“There’s so much we can do,” you interrupted, your back straightening as she watched the sparkle in your eye shine brighter than the stars ever could. “We could use our training for good! We can save people, y’know. Be one of those-”

“Heroes.”

“Superheroes!” You smiled when she chuckled softly, but you could sense the hidden disappointment behind the laugh when her chin fell to her chest. Your shoulders dropped once more, your lips pursing together to form a thin line as you breathed out slowly. She looked up at you behind her eyelashes, and you shook your head. “They’re going to separate us. After we graduate, we’re never going to see each other again and I don’t want to le-” It was sudden, the way she moved towards you. You didn’t really have time to register exactly what had happened until you felt her lips pressing against yours. They were soft and warm, and they ignited a fire in your gut. You wanted more, feeling yourself deepen the kiss as the small cake fell out of your hand.

And just as fast as she was to initiate it, she was quick to break it. You could feel the desire burning your veins when she pulled away, the aching itch to have her lips against yours once again, and the way her eyes watched you carefully, darkened with lust, it caused you to surge forward. Your lips found hers once again, the tips of your fingers hovering above her jaw in hesitation. The passionate craving that was glowing red-hot in your blood only became stronger as the kiss deepened.

You were unsure of what had happened in the next fifteen minutes, the pleasure brought upon you melting your brain, but you could still feel the tingling sensation her touch had left behind throughout your body. And, as your eyes stared up at the ceiling littered with cobwebs and dust, you could feel her gaze trying to penetrate your brain to find out what exactly was playing on your mind.

She was smiling, her arm resting across your chest as her fingers traced your jawline delicately. "Don't you find it a bit odd how there seemed to be a perfect place to do this?" Your voice held a tinge of playfulness, turning your head to find those emerald irises you had fallen for long ago. "A blanket to lay down on, another to cover us. It's like this was… planned."

Her laugh was like wind chimes singing in the breeze, elegant and musical. You wished you could listen to it forever, catching her hand in yours to intertwine your fingers. "It is odd," she agreed, feigning innocence, and you couldn't help but chuckle lightly at her act.

But the happiness slowly faded as reality reentered your mind, a soft breath escaping your throat as you squeezed her hand. Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, feeling yourself relax deeper into the blanket the longer you looked into her eyes. "'Tash…" She subconsciously moved closer to you as your breath lightly fanned over her face. “Are we too young for this?”

She wanted to make a joke out of the question - No, Y/N, we're both adults now - but she couldn't when she saw the deeper meaning behind the inquiry. "Y/N-"

You decided you didn't want an answer to the question, a slight shake of your head and the water forming in your eyes caused her sentence to die on her tongue. "'Tash…" You cleared your throat, blinking away the tears that threatened years of brutal training. "I love you."

Her breath hitched at your confession, her eyes searching yours as if she were looking for something. You could feel the weight of the world lift off your shoulders when the words left your mouth, a laugh making it's way through your lips as you smiled widely, pressing her palm against your heart. Her mouth parted open, and your chest tightened with anticipation, hoping she'll reciprocate the feeling, but it was way too soon that the excitement building in your body was quickly replaced with dread when you heard a low guffaw from the other side of the attic.

You and Natasha were sitting up in an instant, gripping the blanket to keep your bodies covered and meeting the cold, dangerous eyes of Dreykov as he walked closer to the two of you. Natasha could hear the footsteps approaching her, but she chose to ignore the newcomer as she continued swiping the stray dead leaves and fallen twigs off of the unmarked headstone. Her heart was heavy in her chest, her breathing shaky as her chin trembled, and she didn't react to the hand landing on her shoulder as gentle as a feather. She stood up, her lips pursing together tightly as she shook her head.

"You’ve been coming here often lately." Steve's voice was soft, she had to strain her ears to hear his question.

Natasha’s lips lifted up into a small yet sad smile. “It’s her birthday this week.”

“Who is she?” Steve’s hand slid off her shoulder as she sighed. It was hard to shake off the memories at his question, remembering the icy glare from the man as the gun shook in her hand, and the warmth shown on your face as he forced you to your knees didn’t make anything better.

“She was the love of my life,” she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest. Her shoulders weighed down with a guilt she was incapable of getting rid of for years. Because, while she came to be thirty and only growing older as the days passed on, you would forever be stuck at eighteen.

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Please note that the Red Room in the Black Widow movie is not in the same location as the Red Room in post-Black Widow. While, in the movie, it is in a high-tech aerial facility, this story takes place when it was originally in an actual building. Thank you. <3

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

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Last dance | Natasha Romanoff

sʜᴏᴡ/ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ: Marvel

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: As your favorite student asks you what are the feelings that inspire you and that you convey through your works, you tell yourself that this is the perfect time to talk about the one who has always been your muse, Natasha Romanoff, without knowing that the boy in front of you already knows this story very well...

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none

ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2325

Like every night, you gave an art class to a class of ten students. You were a private tutor whom the wealthy parents of these young people liked to pay so that you could teach their children the best ways to use their gift and artistic talent. You loved your job, teaching art was very exciting for you. And seeing all these young people who were passionate about drawing and painting always made you happy. You were all passionate and that’s what motivated you to hold these private lessons every night and every week.

“Alright, that’s all for today,” you announced with a broad smile, “Don’t forget, on Monday we will tackle a new theme and together we will discover the technical means to better analyze what surrounds you so it can serve in your artistic achievements. I wish you all a good weekend!”

Your students gathered their things and left the room quickly. They were all very tired from their week and badly needed to be home. You began to regroup your things too to finish off this long week, when one of your students approached you.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?” he asked timidly.

Joseph Rogers, a young boy of about nineteen was your most gifted student. He was very attentive to each of the themes covered in your lessons, but he was above all very inspired. He was a very talented young man who was arguably your favorite student.

“What is it Joseph?” you asked him while continuing to gather your things.

“You often ask us to draw inspiration from our own feelings to draw or paint, you say that the emotions we put in our works are transmitted to the people who look at them,” he said, using the words you used to say to your students, “But I was wondering… You, what feelings do you put in your works?”

You thought for a moment, stopping to move. You had never mentioned yourself in your lessons, and you never thought that your students would be interested in your own inspirations but somewhere it made sense. You were their teacher, one way or another, they would all end up taking at least a little bit of inspiration from you.

“I know it might sound intrusive but-”

“No, you’re right to ask me,” you smiled, interrupting Joseph, “It’s true that I never told you about these things.”

You took a few seconds to think about what you were going to say to him. Then you remembered what you had noticed during each of your lessons.

“It seems to me that you are a great romantic, aren’t you?” you asked and the young man nodded, “Most of your drawings are about love, you get a lot of inspiration from that feeling.”

Again the young man nodded. You moved to the back of the room and the boy observed you intently. He analyzed your every move as you retrieved carefully arranged sketches, even hidden ones. You came back to the young man and he looked at you curiously.

“It is often said that artists, both poets and painters, have a muse,” you declared, “For some this muse has no name or face, it is a draft that pass and inspire them. For others, it is a close person, a brother or a friend. For the more dreamy, it is an ideal that affixes a few musical notes to their hearts. And for the more sentimental, like you and me, she’s a woman, a lover.”

“You mean your works are inspired by a woman?” Joseph asked, a little surprised, “You were in love?”

“What? It surprises you?” you asked with a smile.

“No, it’s just... You never talk about love.”

“That’s right, I’m not talking about it,” you nodded, “But I think about it and draw it.”

You placed a sketch in front of the young man and he observed it carefully. After a few minutes of detailing every pencil stroke on the paper in front of him, the boy looked up at you.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s her,” you said with a wistful smile, “She’s my muse.”

“She is beautiful.”

“Yes, very beautiful.”

“Do you still draw her today?” the young man asked, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop drawing her.”

Is she still in your life?”

“Alas no, but life has left me with memories of her eyes and her face, and that’s enough to keep painting her.”

“Tell me about her, please.”

Your mind wandered over the hundred or so memories you had of this woman, as Joseph settled in a chair in front of you.

“What can I say? She was gorgeous. Pretty and smart. Of those women who leave no one indifferent, and who leave you forever an indelible mark deep in your heart.”

“What’s her name?”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“How did you know her?” Joseph asked.

“It was a long time ago, I was very young,” you said peacefully, “I must have been about your age and I was starting art studies. At the time I was living in Paris, studying at the Beaux-Arts.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I felt very lucky by the way,” you confessed, “I didn’t come from a very wealthy background, my parents barely made a living. But they believed in me and they let me go to Paris to make my dreams as an artist come true.”

“Was that there that you met her? At the Beaux-Arts in Paris?”

You didn’t notice anything in your student’s tone of voice that suggested he already knew the answer. Instead, you delved into your memories of times already long ago.

“Well... I did meet her in Paris but not at the Beaux-Arts precinct,” you said thoughtfully.

“So where was it?”

“At the time, I didn’t have a penny in my pocket, with a few friends we would gather in cafes between two classes to exchange a few paintings for a few hot meals,” you explained, taking a chair to settle in front of Joseph, “It was in one of those cafes that I met her. She was traveling to Paris and during her stay she was looking to make some money. So she posed for a few artists who offered her some pennies in exchange for her face on their paintings. It was a friend who introduced me to her. She wanted to know other artists, from other horizons.”

“So you painted her?”

“Not right away, as I told you I didn’t have a penny in my pocket, I was certainly a student at the Beaux-Arts, but I didn’t know anything about Paris or its streets and my days consisted of studying, draw and paint, and beg for money too often. She was posing for money, which is normal. I wouldn’t have had enough to pay her.”

“Have you never painted her with her consent?” Joseph asked, resting his eyes on the sketch you handed him earlier.

“Yes, of course I did. But… let’s say it took a while.”

“How long?”

“Less time than it takes to say it, but enough to make me languish.”

“And how was it?”

“My best friend at the time was a very talented painter. He was starting to make a name for himself on the streets of Paris and more and more models were eager to pose for him. Obviously, she who wanted to make money and he who had enough to pay her properly, they finally got along. He painted her several times and each time I was there. They wanted my opinion.”

Joseph continued to listen to you without interrupting. He was very attentive and he could easily see that you were very invested in your story. He felt that you had not told anyone about this story for a long time and that it rekindled a certain flame in you.

“Little by little, I was able to learn to

know and discover her beyond her magnificent appearance. Behind the rhinestones and sequins, under her red hair, her Russian accent and her big green eyes, there was gold. She was an exceptional woman, of course.”

“Did you fall in love with her?” Joseph simply asked and you sighed wistfully.

“Yes, and I was not the only one. Many were the artists who fell in love with her, falling for her unparalleled beauty. She was adored by all, and much desired.”

“But you… You loved her on the inside, not just on the outside. Right?”

“I think you can say that, yes,” you confirmed, “I discovered parts of her personality that no one could have imagined.”

“So… when did she become your muse?”

“I think she was the instant I saw her,” you said, “I met her gaze, she smiled at me and it was all instantaneous.”

“Did she love you?” Joseph asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Do you think muses love the artists they inspire?”

“I dare to hope so.”

“Well, I wanted to believe it too.”

“Were you wrong?”

“Hoping is never wrong,” you replied simply.

Joseph nodded, he shared your vision of things. He often agreed with you, maybe that was one of the reasons he was your favorite student.

“You know, I walked over her body for a long time, brushed her face a hundred times. I found gold and even a few stars while wiping her tears. I dove deeper than everyone else into the green of her eyes and saw myself there a few times, more beautiful and in love. I found something unsuspected in her heart and I used it to nourish the features of my drawings.”

“You seemed to be madly in love with this woman,” Joseph said, almost as a statement and not as a question.

“She was the ink of desire and the brush of dreamers. Between her dreams and her smiles, she was the source of my heartbeat.”

You didn’t notice the satisfied smile that Joseph was trying to hide. If you had seen it, you would have known his questions weren’t trivial and innocent. But you weren’t paying attention to the emotion in his gaze, you just answered his questions blankly.

“In our nights, I have learned by heart the purity of her forms. Sometimes I still draw them,” you confided with another wistful smile, “She’s part of me.”

“But, why did your story end?” Joseph asked.

“I knew her too soon, I loved her too quickly,” you replied, “But it’s not my fault, the arrow went through my skin. It’s a pain that lasts, that does more good than harm.”

“So you saw her go? Did she leave you without saying anything? Without leaving you anything?”

“Yes, but I knew the story. I was prepared for it,” you said simply.

“How so?”

“It was already too late, I quickly understood. In her gaze you could tell that she was already preparing for the long journey,” you said, “And she was not one of those women you hold back. She was free, she had no chains on her feet. I didn’t want to change that.”

“What did you say to yourself when it all ended, when you saw the end come?”

“I told myself that I could die tomorrow and that wouldn’t change a thing,” you answered sincerely, “I received happiness from her hands, anchored in my soul. It’s even too much for one person, you know. It is something that never fades, a light deep in the heart. The inspiration for each of my works.”

“So it ended like this?”

You nodded, “I saw her go, without saying anything. She just needed to breathe, I knew that. I made no attempt to hold her back. I only told her one thing and then let her go.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I said: Thank you for having enchanted my life.”

Joseph nodded slightly. He had enjoyed your story. And you enjoyed telling him that. However, you didn’t know he already knew this story.

“Thanks for telling me this story, Miss (Y/l/n),” he said with strange happiness.

“I hope you can put it to good use,” you replied, without giving it much thought.

With these words, the young man left the stool on which he was sitting. He picked up his things, slipped his satchel around his neck and headed for the exit. You took your sketches and organized them in your pocket on your desk. It was then that the young man asked one last question.

“You were dancing, weren’t you?”

You frowned, confused. You put your things on your desk and looked up at Joseph.

“You and her,” he clarified, “You were dancing, right?”

The young boy’s question had taken you by surprise. He was asking this as if he already knew the answer and this time you could hear it. This intrigued you greatly. Did he know more than he had suggested? You folded your arms and addressed him suspiciously.

“Why this question Joseph?”

The boy, his hand resting on the doorknob of the room door, took a deep breath. He dodged your gaze for a moment, then, resting his eyes on you, he answered.

“My mom often says she wanted one last dance.”

“Sorry?”

“Before shadow and indifference, dizziness then silence,” the boy quoted, “She just wants one last dance with you.”

With that, the boy let go of the handle and left the room. The door closed behind him silently. You were then left alone with your memories, in the middle of this empty classroom, and faced with the idea that the son of the one who was your one and only muse was your favorite student.

The world is small, isn’t it?

ᴀ/ɴ: Don’t ask for a part two, there will probably never be.

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cheelseaaaa · 3 years ago

Text

we’ll be a fine line

pairing: florence pugh x reader

synopsis: the last couple of months before your relationship with florence is truly over.

a/n: have i written way too many flo fics? yes. will i stop? no, no i don’t think so.

word count: 2.2k

now playing:

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In the five years that you have been with Florence, you had come to know her too well. That was why when she sat you down and told you that she wanted to break up, you weren’t shocked by any means.

“We’ve been spending too much time away from each other that it barely feels like a relationship anymore.” She said in a quiet voice. “We’re just roommates now, and I just don’t feel the way I should feel, the way I do in the beginning anymore.”

You were there at the beginning. You were there to watch her climb the ladder of Hollywood elite. Every casting call, every shoot, every interview, you would be behind the scenes to reassure her, to be her biggest fan. Even when no one believed in her, you did.

The beginning was magical. You were just two callow fools in love against the world. You felt the weight of it of late, the way its gravity has been trying to pull you apart, piece by piece, until all that was left were the hollow shells of your past selves. And how do you love when you’ve barely got anything left to give anymore?

“If that’s how you feel,” you averted your eyes, “then I have no right to chain you down.”

“You’re not even going to fight for us?” Flo whispered, her voice cracking.

“I want to. You know I want to.” And so did yours. “But you also know that it’ll come to nothing in the end.”

You watched as her shoulders and head dropped, squeezing her shut to swallow tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Flo. Hey, look at me. You deserve to be happy, and I will always do anything to make you so.”

As she launched herself into your arms, you drew deep breaths to stop yourself from crying. You needed to be strong for her.

“You know I’ll always love you.” She mumbled in your neck. “Always.”

You smiled and rubbed her back. “I know. I love you too.”

Flo had been looking for a temporary apartment to stay in until she could find a permanent home to move into, and you have been helping her. You have decided to remain good friends, as you two bore no hard feelings towards each other.

Once she had found one, the process of packing her things and bringing them to her new home began, and you helped her with that too. Slowly, your once-filling home began to vacate, half of its things packed in neat boxes, the spot they once claimed for years suddenly too empty. You stood in the hallway staring at the blank wall where Flo’s arts once hung, the ones she had been so excited about hanging up while you were renovating the house together, and pretended the emptiness didn’t rip at your heart.

Flo never told you, but she heard you cry in your room that first night. When she got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night (she wasn’t used to using the guest bathroom where she stayed and went to the main bedroom instead), she heard your broken sobs, the way they trip over themselves as you tried to calm yourself down but failed. She was grateful to you for being so supportive; it reminded her that she needed to have you in her life if it was only as a best friend.

While she was going through miscellaneous things that sat under the coffee table, Flo came across a stack of film photos that you had taken over the years, each of them a flash of memories that she could recall exactly as they happened. There was one of her and Billie covered in mud with her cracking the biggest smile and the dog licked her face, and another of her making a funny face before the Disneyland castle. There was even one of her, naked, in a hotel room in Florence.

“Stop it.” She trailed her words before bursting into a fit of giggles, trying to avert your incessant tapping of her nose.

You followed her giggles, and propped your head on your hand, looking down at her.

“I’m so lucky.” You whispered to yourself, but Flo heard you. She smiled wide as you leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, your hand tracing her neck down to her naked torso.

“I wanna marry you one day.” You mumbled into her lips. “Let’s come back and get married right here in Florence. It’ll be Florence’s wedding in Florence!”

She laughed at your childlike enthusiasm and wrapped her arms around your neck. “And you’ll become Mrs. Pugh then, yeah?”

“Eh,” You scrunched your nose, “I was thinking you’d be Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Let’s hyphenate our last names.”

“Deal.” You smiled.

Just as Flo was pulling you down for another kiss, you sprung out of bed and walked towards the vanity table at the other end of the room.

“I wanna capture this.” You grabbed your camera and brought it to your eye. “To show our kids later on.”

“I just agreed to get married and you’re already thinking about kids?” Flo laughed.

“Yeah, two. And another pup for Billie to play with.”

“Alright, fine.”

Click.

Flo let out a quiet laugh, as she wiped the tears that have been trickling down her cheeks. She heard footsteps and the couch dipping beside her, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you only placed a loving arm around her shoulder and rubbed it slightly.

“You can have these if you want.” You offered quietly.

“But you took these. I don’t want to take them all from you.” She put the pictures back into the stack.

“You can have the ones of you.”

“That’s most of them.”

“True.” You laughed quietly. “Still, I want you to have them, only if you want to, of course.”

She sniffled and nodded.

Flo had noticed the way you became quieter, your stance less comfortable the way she remembered it, but your smile, though weaker, was still warm and made her feel at ease. Sometimes she wondered if she had made a mistake.

Time was moving faster than you could keep up with. Most of her stuff was in the new apartment, only a manageable chunk she left to transport with her last U-Haul ride over there.

“Maybe I’ll get that grand piano now.” You joked. “To fill up some of the space.”

She looked away when she thought she saw a hint of sadness in your eyes despite your smile.

The day before she moved out, it was raining cats and dogs. You and she proceeded as you always have; stay indoors and have a cozy, rainy day in. When dinner time rolled around, you offered to cook.

“You’ve always been the one to cook me these fancy meals.” You said with a small laugh, bending down to take out a skillet from the cupboard.

“Did it take us breaking up for you to finally cook for me?”

She knew as soon as she said it that it was stupid to say. You avoided her eyes and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Flo said, scrunching her nose.

“No worries.” You smiled kindly. “Wanna be my sous-chef?”

You could be a really good cook if you tried, she thought. The way you stir the sauce with care, not to mention you had a good taste for seasoning. You just never experimented in the kitchen, frankly because there was no need. She would be the one trying out the new recipes, and you happily became her taster. She couldn’t remember the last time she really sat down and ate with you like this.

“Remember that time when you said ‘Thanks, you too’ back to the server after he said ‘Enjoy your meal’? And then you made us leave right after? We never went back to that place!”

“Okay, but when you were so drunk you ran into the doors of the tube and everyone saw! Oh god, Y/N, how we didn’t end up in the papers was a miracle!”

Flo was laughing so hard that she could barely breathe. She remembered the stories in her mind vividly, but the way you recounted them, with your knack for storytelling, made them ten times funnier. She loved the smile on your face, how it spread across your cheeks and creased at the corner of your eyes, and made your eyes sparkle in the dim light.

“That was so long ago now, wasn’t it?” You shook your head.

“Yeah, that was after our third date,” Flo said.

“Wow.” You smiled to yourself. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I hope we don’t stop.” She spoke. Then she realized that might have been misleading. “Having fun.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “We were good friends long before we were together.”

“Here’s to even more unforgettable memories.” She raised her wine glass.

Before long, she was cleaning up in the kitchen with you. She chose to scrub the dishes and pans more carefully, making sure they were spotless for the next time you use them.

“Goodnight.” You said in the softest voice. She said the same to you, and watched you move towards the end of the hallway to what was once your shared bedroom.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not find the fatigue in her to sleep. She knew she had to be well-rested for tomorrow to move, but swirling in her head were a million thoughts. Flo was going crazy. She wanted to tear her hair out. No matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn’t rid itself of you. Were you in the other room sleeping, on the right side of the bed and curling your body towards the left because that’s where she used to sleep, or were you lying awake and staring at the ceiling, angry at yourself too because you couldn’t stop thinking about her?

Flo sat up before her mind could process it. Her legs put themselves in front of one another again and again. She didn’t want to admit it yet because there was a lot at stake. All the weeks she could have done something, but she didn’t. The decision was final, and yet here she was—she was going to your room.

The walk felt like forever, even though it was only a couple of rooms away. Fear started creeping through the back of her mind, but then she heard footsteps on the other end of the hallway, where you would be resting. She looked up, and there you were, steps away outside your bedroom door, looking back at her with the same astonished look on your face. Your chest heaved under a plain pajama shirt, bathed in moonlight. You took a step closer, and waited. But you knew her too well, you knew what she wanted, and you knew that she would give in.

In a quick motion, you scooped her into your arms and your mouth attacked hers. The roughness of it all elicited a heavy sigh from Flo and she tightened her arms’ grip around your neck, keeping you close. She let you carry her back into the old bedroom where you slept, the one she hadn’t been in so long.

Flo kissed you, hard and passionate and soft and slow, as she tried to taste the most of you. The hunger she’s felt bubbling the past few weeks collided over the edge as she hooked her legs around your waist to keep you closer.

But then suddenly, you stopped. The look you gave her she couldn’t quite read. Your eyes flickered between hers, maybe trying to read her minds too as she was trying to read yours. Your lower lip twitched and you let out the smallest sniffle, proceeding to collapse onto her chest with a loud, broken sob.

She wrapped her arms around you without hesitation. There was no one else in the world she’d rather be with right then, and she needed to make sure that you were okay, even if this would complicate things tomorrow. For now, she needed to be yours, even if she stopped when she broke up with you.

Her heart still belonged to you, wholly, violently, magnificently.

“Stay here tonight, just once more.” You spoke against her neck, your warm breath heating, burning her alive.

She clutched you closer, and planted a kiss on your forehead.

Flo awoke the next morning to an empty bed. When she went downstairs to look for you, she found you in the kitchen making breakfast. It was eight forty-nine, and the U-Haul truck would be here soon.

You whipped your head around, flashed her a sad smile that she wished you didn’t give her, and extended your arm for her to dock herself into.

In the five years that she’s been with you, she had come to know you as well as you did her. She knew that you knew you both need the space to grow as individuals, and maybe, when the time is right, you would find each other again.

Flo rubbed your back, and smiled.

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