dannyboy-writes

[dannyboy-writes]

Don’t Hide

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x exhydra!reader

Slight angst and fluff/comfort

Summary: After a rough mission, you slip back into what your life use to be, what you were trained to do. Hiding away and spiraling Natasha’s there to comfort you.

The mission had gone sideways, but you’d survived worse. A nasty cut on your side and a few bruises wouldn’t stop you now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you carefully locked the bathroom door behind you. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, the whispers of Hydra training clawing at the back of your mind.

You’d been sharing this bathroom..a room, with Natasha for just a few months, the two of you navigating the delicate balance of a new relationship. It wasn’t easy—two broken people trying to make sense of something good for once—but you made it work. At least, most days. But tonight was different. You didn’t want her to see you like this.

You sat on the edge of the tub, carefully pressing a towel to the cut on your side, watching the blood seep through. Your hands shook, but you forced yourself to focus. Breathe. Patch it up and move on. That’s what they taught you. Never show weakness. Never ask for help.

In the quiet of the bathroom, the echoes of Hydra training were louder than usual. You weren’t *here*—you were back in those sterile rooms, under harsh lights, voices barking commands. You tried to shake it off, but the memories gripped you tighter. Your throat closed up, and suddenly, you couldn’t find your voice. The blood spilling out and covering your hands wasn’t your own anymore, it was that of your victims. The flashes of the cruel deaths you inflicted. The dozens of assassinations, slaughters.

Outside, Natasha had just returned from her own mission, tired but relieved to be back. She was looking forward to unwinding with you, maybe sharing quiet moments in the space you now called yours. But the minute she stepped into your shared room, she knew something was wrong.

The faint scent of blood hit her nose, and her eyes darted toward the small droplets leading to the bathroom. Her heart sank. You were hurt. Worse, you were hiding it from her.

She crossed the room swiftly, her own exhaustion forgotten. When she reached the bathroom door, she knocked, a firm but controlled sound. "Y/N?" Her voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern. "Can you open the door?"

You froze, your hands trembling more now. You didn’t want her to see this, to see you like this. Weak. Silent. You were meant to be a ruthless killer, the perfect soldier. You tried to stand, to clean up the blood before she could come in, but your knees buckled under the pressure.

"Y/N," Natasha continued, a slight edge and frustration creeping into her tone. "What happened out there, let me in.”

Your mind raced, Hydra’s voice overlapping with hers. Don’t let anyone in. Turn it off. Don’t show any vulnerability, any emotion, or you will be punished. You gritted your teeth, the walls around you closing in. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you couldn’t respond. The words were there, but they wouldn’t come.

Natasha, on the other side of the door, was getting worried. The silence on the other side was too familiar—the kind of silence born out of fear or pain. She knocked again, a little louder this time. "Y/N, open the door, right now, I’m serious. I need to see if you’re okay."

She wasn’t yelling, not really, but the firmness in her voice felt like too much. Like an order. Your chest tightened, and the panic swelled, pushing you deeper into the memories. The room blurred as your pulse raced. You messed up this mission, you didn’t follow orders, you should expect repercussions. All you could hear now were the commands from long ago: “stay quiet, fix it yourself, don’t be a liability.”

When Natasha heard the shallow, unsteady breaths through the door, she knew. This wasn’t just about the injury. She knew that sound—it was the sound of you slipping into something darker, something that haunted both of you. Her own frustration faded, replaced by the urgent need to help you.

She carefully jimmied the lock, opening the door slowly, not wanting to startle you. And when she saw you, sitting on the bathtub, bloodied and shaking, her heart broke. You were trying so hard to patch yourself up, but it was clear you were far from okay. The familiar signs of an episode setting in—shaky hands, heavy breathing, racing heart, visions of the past blending with the present.

Natasha crouched in front of you, her movements deliberate, not touching you but close enough for you to feel her presence. Her voice softened, calm but insistent. "Hey, it’s me. You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not back there. You’re here, with me."

Her words cut through the fog, but barely. Your hands were shaking too hard now, and the towel you were using to stop the bleeding slipped from your grip. Tears welled in your eyes, as you clenched your jaw hard enough to crack teeth, willing yourself to keep them at bay. You tried to tell her you were fine, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. The training, the trauma—it was all rushing back too fast.

Natasha sighed softly, guilt tugging at her for being stern earlier. "I’m sorry I got loud. I just… I needed to know you were okay."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, but Natasha saw them anyway. Her gaze softened even more, the concern etched into her face. She moved slowly, standing and carefully taking the towel from you. "Let me help, okay?"

You didn’t protest this time. The panic was still there, the memories still too close, but Natasha’s presence grounded you. She pressed the towel to your side gently, her touch reassuring, her focus entirely on you.

As she worked to clean the wound, she spoke softly, not to ask questions or pry, but just to remind you she was there. "I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But we’re a team now. You don’t have to hide this from me." She softly cleaned the cuts in your face too, applying bandages and ointments.

Her words made something inside you shift, a tiny crack in the armor you’d built. You nodded, your breath still shaky but steadier now. The room felt a little less suffocating with her by your side.

When she finished patching you up, Natasha finally met your gaze, cupping your face "We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

You nodded subtly, eyes still distant, you mumbled something inaudible.

she kissed the top of your head and held you against herself, “I love you.” she whispered so softly.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” you answered against her, bring your arms to wrap around her waist and hold her ever so gently.

The tension in your body begins to ease as she softly runs her fingers through your hair, her touch grounding you. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask you to talk, just sits with you, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Her voice is low and soothing as she hums softly, her hand tracing calming circles on your scalp. Slowly, the chaos in your mind begins to fade, the safety of her touch allowing you to breathe a little easier. She stays like that, holding you through the storm, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

For the first time that night, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face this battle alone.

[dannyboy-writes]

Harry Potter | Hermione Granger x male!Slytherin!reader ~ Official

You always considered yourself a bit of an enigma, even within the walls of Slytherin. Yes, you were friends with Draco, and yes, you had no love for Gryffindor. Yet, despite everything — the rivalry, the clash in values, even the sneers exchanged in the corridors — you had found yourself entranced by Hermione Granger. The more you saw her, the more you realized she was unlike anyone you’d ever met.

It started as an unexplainable interest. You’d see her raising her hand in class with that determined glint in her eyes, hear her debating fearlessly with professors, even managing to stand up to Snape on occasion. Something about her confidence, that unmistakable intellect, struck you harder than any hex.

Then, before you knew it, “interest” had turned into something else entirely. Hermione Granger had you in knots.

You managed to approach her alone one day after class, well aware of the risk of being seen talking to her. At first, she seemed skeptical. Why was a Slytherin, one of Draco’s friends no less, trying to talk to her without any hostility? She assumed it was a trick, a new way to get under her skin. But eventually, after some awkward, fumbling attempts at conversation, you managed to convince her of your sincerity.

Once that wall had broken down, things progressed in secret. The first time you met in an empty classroom after hours, your heart pounded with excitement and adrenaline. Hermione was cautious, even jumpy, but there was an undeniable spark between you two. Soon enough, secret meetings turned into late-night talks and quiet walks around the castle, and you realized you wanted this to be more than some hidden affair.

A few weeks into your secret relationship, you found yourself lying on the cold stone floor of an unused classroom with Hermione, your heads close, your fingers brushing hers. She was telling you about her latest adventure with Harry and Ron, something to do with sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library. You rolled your eyes, though there was a slight smirk on your face.

“They’re reckless, the two of them. Honestly, it’s a wonder they haven’t gotten you expelled yet,” you said, only half-joking.

She gave you a look, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Not everyone sees things the Slytherin way, you know.”

“I see things the practical way,” you shot back. “We both know Potter and Weasley have a flair for the dramatic.”

She laughed, and you felt your chest tighten. You loved the sound of her laugh, the way it softened her usually serious expression.

“But speaking of reckless,” you said, turning on your side to face her, “I think it’s time we take this a bit more seriously. Make it official.”

The laughter drained from her face, replaced by a look of surprise and slight apprehension. “Official?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, official,” you said, holding her gaze. “I like you, Hermione. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. I don’t want to keep this in the shadows forever.”

She pulled back a little, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest. “It’s... complicated. If people found out, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“Since when did you care what people think?” you challenged gently, sitting up as well.

Hermione looked down, biting her lip. “It’s not just about what people think. There’s... there’s so much between us. You’re friends with Malfoy, and I know how he feels about me. About Harry and Ron. And they don’t exactly love you, either.”

“Draco doesn’t dictate who I date,” you said, a touch of irritation seeping into your voice. “And neither do Potter and Weasley. It’s just you and me, Hermione.”

She hesitated, glancing at the floor. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand the kind of pressure I’m under. If people found out, it could make things even harder with my friends. And the rumors...”

You reached out, gently cupping her cheek and turning her face to meet yours. “I don’t care about rumors. I don’t care what anyone thinks. All I care about is you.”

She softened, leaning into your touch. “It’s easy for you to say that. Slytherins can get away with... with arrogance, with doing things their own way. But Gryffindors need to be careful, we are expected to uphold this ridiculous standard.”

“You’re not just a ‘Gryffindor,’ Hermione,” you whispered, looking into her eyes. “You’re so much more than that. I see you for who you really are — brilliant, brave, a little too stubborn for your own good. And you’re not scared of a challenge. Why let anyone dictate who you can be with?”

For a long moment, she was silent. Then, slowly, she nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “You know, you’re almost convincing.”

“Only ‘almost’?” You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers.

When you pulled back, she looked at you with a mixture of affection and worry. “If we do this... I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” you replied without hesitation.

“Promise me you won’t let anyone get between us. Not Draco, not Harry and Ron. No matter what happens.”

“I promise,” you said, clasping her hand tightly. “As long as you’re with me, nothing else matters.”

As the days went on, you kept pushing gently for her to make your relationship public. Every time she wavered, you felt the hope rise in your chest. But each time, she backed down, the weight of expectations too heavy on her shoulders.

One afternoon, as you walked her back from the library, Draco spotted you from down the hall. He raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Hermione with an incredulous expression.

“Careful there, mate,” he drawled, casting Hermione a look of disdain. “Wouldn’t want people to start talking.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Draco snorted. “Just don’t get too cozy with the Gryffindors, yeah? They’ve got a way of rubbing off on people.”

After he left, Hermione sighed, looking down at her feet. “See what I mean? People like Draco will never accept this. They’ll think you’ve... compromised yourself.”

“Compromised?” you repeated, scoffing. “If anything, dating you has raised my standards. You're honestly way out of my league.”

She chuckled softly, but her eyes were still clouded with doubt. “I don’t know...”

Taking her hands, you stepped closer. “Look, Hermione, I’m not going to pretend this will be easy. But I’m willing to go through all of it — the whispers, the rumors, the dirty looks. As long as you’re by my side.”

Her expression softened, and she nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe... maybe it’s worth the risk.”

The next morning, you found her waiting for you by the entrance to the Great Hall. She looked around nervously, clearly second-guessing her decision.

“You ready?” you asked, offering her your hand.

She hesitated for just a moment before taking it, giving you a determined nod. Together, you walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand. As expected, heads turned, whispers broke out, and the collective gaze of the entire school seemed to be focused on the two of you.

You spotted Draco at the Slytherin table, his expression a mixture of shock and a form of betrayal. Harry and Ron were at the Gryffindor table, both looking equally stunned. You knew this wouldn’t be easy — for you, for her, or for your friends. But as Hermione squeezed your hand, a surge of confidence filled you.

This was worth it. She was worth it.

You could handle the whispers, the sideways glances, even the glares from both Gryffindors and Slytherins. Because for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to prove yourself to anyone. You’d already won.

[dannyboy-writes]

Not Going Anywhere

Pair: Hermione Granger x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You’ve kept a pretty big secret from your bird for a while, but what happens when you end up revealing it on one fate filled night where she sees it first hand?

Warnings: Blood mentions, fluffy!

Notes: Requested! Hope you enjoy! Lowkey cringey but-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Red.

Red.

All you saw was blood red.

Red and shadows of moving figures. You couldn’t make out what body belonged to what name or remember your own to be fair. You growled, snarled, hissed, everything under the sun yet the figures stepped closer. You just wanted to be alone. It was so cold.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your ears were ringing. Everything hurt, everything was throbbing. You felt lost, confused and in pain. You were hurt. You were bleeding and vulnerable and that leads to more bleeding and more vulnerable. All and all, you were scared and running purely off instinct at this point. 

“It’s ok.” A distorted female voice whispered. It was vaguely familiar but so far away. The idea of familiarity left as quickly as it came. You bared your teeth once more before taking off, leaving a trail of red behind you.

Keep reading

[dannyboy-writes]

The Games We Play

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Day 13: I've merged a amazing request from a lovely friend. Also the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 13th of January, which is 'combat'.

.

‘You just go up to her.’ Tony explained, looking down at the tiny screwdriver he was twirling between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s really not that hard.’

‘For you.’ You grumbled, crammed next to him on the small sofa. ‘You lack any real social skills.’ 

Bruce returned to the room and offered you a mug of herbal tea. You wondered if the tea had been part of his agreement to move into the Tower permanently.

‘We all lack social skills.’ He reminded you pointedly as he sat on an armchair on the other side of the tiny room. ‘You just need to spend more time with her.’

You rolled your eyes and pretended that his suggestion didn’t make you nervous. ‘I do spend time with her. I see her every day. We’re literally coworkers.’

Tony slid off the sofa and onto his knees. You both watched as he began his third attempt at constructing the IKEA bookcase. You watched as he flicked through the instruction guide and barely hid your smile. He’d flung it confidently over his shoulder on the first attempt. 

Tony glanced over and caught your smirk. He gave you an unimpressed look. He gestured suddenly between yourself and him.

‘No.’ He corrected dryly. ‘We’re co-workers. Natasha is your wannabe fuck buddy and you’re just being a pussy. ’

You glanced to the plate of cookies that Bruce had placed decoratively on the coffee table.

The urge to fling one at Tony’s head was suddenly overwhelming.

Bruce made a pained noise and you looked up guiltily. He shook his head and you took a sip of your tea, trying not to look sheepish. 

‘It’s not about the amount of time you spend together.’ Bruce tried again, reaching for one of the cookies himself. ‘It’s about the quality of time you spend together.’

Tony swore suddenly, dropping two pieces of wood that he’d been trying to jam together, and returning angrily to the instruction guide. 

‘Find a shared interest.’ Bruce advised, his expression wary as he observed Tony flipping the screwdriver over and using it as a makeshift hammer. ‘Think of a hobby or an activity that you’d both like to do together.’

You sighed as you heard the accidental innuendo. You leaned forward to grab a preemptive cookie.

‘I can think of a hobby you can do together.’ Tony smirked. 

You threw the cookie and watched it smack the side of Tony’s head before crumbling pathetically onto Bruce’s brand new carpet. Tony didn’t flinch.

Bruce put his head in his hands and gave a quiet sigh. After a moment, he gave you a resigned look and handed you the plate of cookies. 

‘Take these to the common area.’ He directed. ‘It’ll give you a reason to talk to her. Remember, try and find something you can do together.’

.

You walked into the shared kitchen space of the Avengers Tower holding a plate of cookies and feeling a little bit lame. Natasha and Clint were sitting at the kitchen island. There was a bottle of beer next to each of them. Natasha was laughing easily at some story of Clint’s. Before you could pick up the details of it yourself, you recognised his mime of a sudden explosion. 

‘And, that.’ Clint finished, raising his beer. ‘Is why you never trust a snowman.’

In wordless agreement, Natasha leaned forward and clinked her bottle with his.

Clint straightened up slightly as he noticed you approaching. Natasha followed his gaze, her head slowly turning to face you.

Fuck she was hot. You tried not to stare obviously. 

Natasha smiled at the sight of you. Her hair hung over her shoulder in the simple braid that had quickly become your favourite. She nodded in greeting and held up her half-drunk beer.

‘Want one?’ 

You felt your grip tighten on the plate of cookies.

‘That’s okay.’ You mumbled. ‘I just had some tea.’

Natasha smiled again. You realised as you approached, that she was sitting cross legged on her bar stool. You tried to imagine yourself even attempting that. 

‘How’s Bruce liking his redesigned rooms?’ Natasha asked.

‘Good. Good.’ You nodded a few too many times. You held out the cookies awkwardly. ‘He, uh, he wanted me to bring these up.’

Clint rubbed his hands at the sight of the plate. 

‘Excellent.’ He said as he began to pile a stack of cookies in the crook of his arm. 

You stared at him, decidedly unimpressed. 

‘For us to share.’ You clarified.. 

Clint rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated scan of the room.

‘Just us three here.’ He nodded down at the last two cookies remaining on the plate. ‘And there’s still some for you.’

He grabbed his beer bottle by the neck and nodded goodbye to you both. 

You exchanged a look with Natasha, expecting to share a stupid comment about Clint. 

Natasha’s expression took you off guard. 

‘Hi.’ She said softly. Her attention was careful, more focused than you’d ever felt it before.

‘Hi.’ You breathed out, suddenly aware that this was one of the very few times you’d ever been alone together.

Cautiously, you found the nearest bar-stool and hopped onto it. You reached for one of the final cookies at the same time as Natasha. Your fingers brushed hers and you tried to keep your face casual, even as your hand faltered. 

When you looked back to her, Natasha’s eyes seemed darker than you expected. There was something behind them that you didn’t understand.

‘So..’ She began in a meaningful tone.

‘Do you like video games?’ You blurted out, panickedly trying to remember Bruce’s advice. 

Natasha looked thrown for the briefest instant. Then her face smoothed into a relaxed one. 

‘I dunno.’ She shrugged with a smile, taking a bite of her cookie. ‘I’ve never played one.’

.

You found yourself a few minutes later, clumsily trying to remember how to set up the Nintendo Wii console that Tony had once purchased for the common area. Natasha sat on the sofa behind you, patiently waiting. You knew she was watching you intently. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up at the attention.

At last, as the game began to load, you turned around and gave her one of the plastic steering wheels. 

Natasha looked down at it with amusement. 

‘So, it’s really just a driving game?’ She checked, pretending playfully to steer it in the air. 

‘Exactly.’ You gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And don’t worry about remembering all the controls on your first go. It’s easiest to learn by playing it.’

Natasha kicked her feet up onto the scuffed coffee table and leaned back against the sofa cushions. 

‘Sounds good to me.’

A few minutes later, you stared dumbly at the screen. 

A Second Place sticker was stamped next to your Yoshi. 

Natasha’s Princess Peach celebrated her easy, dazzling, victory. 

‘That was fun.’ Natasha commented lightly. ‘Do you want to play again?’

You lost three more times in a row. Somehow, with every race, Natasha’s Princess Peach managed to get even faster. 

‘How. Are. You. Doing. That?’ You breathed out in a strangled voice when she won the race before you’d even started your final lap.

Natasha gave you a sparkling smile. ‘I think it gets easier the more you play.’ She said with an easy shrug.

‘Right.’ You muttered dryly, still looking disbelievingly at the screen. ‘Yeah that makes sense. I mean, I’ve only been playing for a couple years.’

‘Do you want to be Princess Peach?’ Natasha teased. ‘Maybe she’s good luck.’

You couldn’t help laughing loudly. 

‘Natasha.’ You said slowly, unable to do anything but smile when she looked at you like that. ‘I think you’re the good luck.’

Natasha breathed a laugh, her voice much lower than your own. 

‘Then maybe, one day, I’ll have to drive you some place.’

‘Uh huh.’ You said absentmindedly, trying to ready yourself as the next round of the game began.

.

A few days later and you were incredibly brave. Without the excuse of cookies, you asked Natasha if she wanted to try another game with you.

‘Okay.’ Natasha said, her smile a little careful. 

‘It’s called Just Dance.’ You told her. ‘I think you’ll have fun, it’s just dancing. The songs are cheesy and there’s a guide to follow. And, don’t worry, everybody is kinda bad at it.’

‘That’s a relief.’ Natasha grinned, slipping off her bar-stool and following you through to the TV with the Wii console. ‘I haven’t danced in years.’

As you stood together in the middle of the room, waiting for the game to load, Natasha turned to look at you. There was that look in her eyes that you didn’t recognise. An intensity that felt almost overwhelming. You watched Natasha hesitate to speak. You gave her an uncertain smile. You caught the way her breathing quickened and suddenly it clicked.

‘Don’t be nervous.’ You tried to reassure her. You reached out and touched Natasha’s arm gently. ‘If you want, I’ll go first and you can see it’s not that bad.’

Natasha swallowed and then her expression flickered into something much calmer. ‘Okay.’ She said quietly, moving to sit back down on the sofa. Her legs folded automatically underneath her. Her braid fell forward over her shoulder.

You swallowed an urge to tell her how beautiful she looked. Shoulders relaxed, curled like a cat in her grey sweats and black tank top. 

You turned back to the Just Dance loading screen and prepared to make a fool of yourself.

You earned yourself a decent score for Toxic and turned back to Natasha, grinning and panting slightly.

She gave you a tiny round of applause. 

‘You go.’ You encouraged her, touching her shoulder again as she stood. ‘It’s fun, I promise.’

Five minutes later, you heard the final notes of ‘Only Girl (In The World.) and wondered how it had happened again.

Natasha turned around, not a hair out of place.

‘That was fun.’ She smiled. 

You nodded. You hadn’t actually realised it was possible to only get Perfect scores for an entire song. 

‘And…’ You started hesitantly. ‘You haven’t danced before?’

Natasha tensed a little, before her voice turned decidedly calm. 

‘Well, I learned ballet in the Red Room.’

You looked up, recognising the moment of insecurity that wasn’t entirely yours to understand. You gave her a soft smile. 

‘I bet you were an excellent dancer.’ 

Natasha’s lips twitched upwards into an answering smile. 

‘Maybe.’ She started hesitantly. ‘Maybe, we could try dancing together, to some other kind of music.’

You nodded.

‘Definitely.’ You grinned. ‘I think Tony already has a copy of Just Dance 3. I bet I can get him to loan it to us.’

Natasha’s jaw tensed briefly and then it relaxed, silently she gave you a small nod. 

Something seemed off. Briefly, you worried that you’d suggested the wrong thing, that she might not want the others to know about her dancing around with you in the living room. 

‘Or maybe we can keep it just between ourselves.’ You hurried out, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. ‘I like that it’s just for us. Maybe I can find another game for us to play.’

Natasha stared at you slowly and then her smile widened into something that made your heart rate quicken. 

‘Any time.’ She promised, reaching out to brush your hand lightly with her own. ‘I’ll be there.’ 

.

The next day, you found Natasha again in the kitchen. The others were there and you watched as Bruce and Tony exchanged a meaningful look when you arrived with a laptop under your arm. 

Natasha gave you a knowing smile when she saw you. 

‘See you later.’ She called out to the others, her arm moving casually around your shoulders as you began to walk together towards the sofa. ‘We’ve got a play date.’

You groaned internally when you heard Tony wolfwhistle behind you.

Natasha sat close to you on the sofa as you opened your laptop and began to boot up the game. 

‘What are we playing today?’ She hummed curiously. Her voice was so close that it made you shiver. You wondered if your pulse was jumping out your neck. You could feel the warmth emanating from her.

‘It’s called the Sims.’ You whispered, voice suddenly a little hoarse. ‘It’s like a simulated reality. You can build pretend people and houses and play out their lives.’

‘That sounds-’ Natasha hesitated. ‘Do you fight in it? Is there combat?’

You gave her a funny look.

‘Not really. You just pretend whatever you want to happen.’ 

Suddenly, sitting this close to Natasha, you couldn’t help but notice her new ear-stud.You pointed shyly up to your own ear and then nodded back at her. 

‘It looks really cool.’ You told her softly, forgetting for a moment all about the game.’ 

Natasha looked briefly thrown by the compliment. She blinked slowly. 

‘Thank you.’ She said, giving you a hesitant smile back. You both looked shyly away from each other.

After a moment of awkward silence, her shoulder bumped yours playfully.

‘Maybe we could make a pretend me and you?’ She suggested teasingly looking back at the laptop screen. ‘And then we can play happy families.’

You grinned happily, moving the cursor to start the game.

‘Now you’re getting it.’

It took an hour for you both to design characters that you were happy with. 

There was something much more intimate about this game than the ones before. You were sitting unthinkingly close together on the sofa. Natasha’s soft voice humming different ideas to you as you designed the lookalike sims. 

Just before you started your next task - designing a house. You stood up and offered to get some drinks from the kitchen. 

You returned a few moments later, drinks in hand. You nearly dropped Natasha’s beer when you took a look at the screen.

‘I thought I’d try and get started on building something.’ Natasha said easily as she noticed you approaching. 

‘That’s -uh.’ You stuttered, handing her the beer without your eyes leaving the screen. ‘That’s the Tower.’

Natasha shrugged casually. ‘Only a couple of the floors. And the paintings aren’t an exact match, obviously.’

You placed your drink on the table and covered your face in your hands. You took a deep breath.

You felt Natasha’s hand brush unsurely along your curved spine.

‘Are you okay?’ She asked cautiously. 

‘How could you build that, without ever playing before?’ You whined more to yourself than to Natasha.

There was a hesitation, an awkward beat of silence.

‘I’m sorry.’ Natasha said in a very quiet voice. ‘I can delete it. I didn’t mean to ruin the game for you.’

You turned to look at Natasha. You touched her hand in automatic reassurance. You squeezed it carefully, wondering if you were imagining the slight shaking.

‘No, I’m sorry.’ You said, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. ‘God, I’m so stupid.’

‘No you’re not.’ Natasha countered firmly. ‘Please don’t say that.’

‘I am.’ You muttered more to yourself. ‘I don’t even want to play these games with you.’

You felt Natasha tense suddenly under your touch. Abruptly, she pulled away from you.

‘We don’t have to spend time together.’ She told you in a suddenly very level voice. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

You wondered how you could be so bad at saying something so simple. 

‘Natasha, all I want to do is spend time with you.’ You rushed out suddenly. 

Natasha’s lips parted slightly in shock. You watched her eyes skitter over your face as she read every facet of emotion there. You just kept speaking, unable to stop.

‘I just wanted to get to know you better. And I talked to Tony. And Bruce. Because it’s so hard, you’re so incredible and I didn’t even know where to start.’

Natasha swallowed, and for a moment her eyes looked so wide you worried that she was afraid. Then she blinked a few times in quick succession. You ploughed on with your clumsy explanation.

‘So, I, I needed a reason. To talk to you. And spend time together. And I thought video games, because I’m actually quite good at them. Well,’ 

You corrected yourself with a rueful smile. You started playing nervously with your fingers in your lap.

‘I’m average person good at them. And it turns out you’re gifted person good at them. At every game too. Which is kind of amazing actually. But it just means that there’s nothing about me that’s impressive. Not really, not like you.’

There was only silence when you finally managed to cut off your ramble. You took a deep breath, your heart in your mouth as you waited for Natasha to respond. 

You watched her swallow again before she spoke. 

‘You really like me?’ She asked, in a quiet, rasping voice that you’d never heard before.

You nodded fervently.

‘I’m not impressive.’ Natasha told you after a moment. ‘Not at all.’

Her eyes met yours, full of an unmistakable insecurity. She swallowed again. She folded her arms nervously across her chest. 

‘I’m good at driving, but I don’t have anywhere to go. And I learned how to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.’ Natasha cut herself off with a sad laugh. ‘And I don’t know how to have the life I want, even if I’ve learned how to pretend.’

You paused and let the heavy words sink in. You thought about the things you still didn’t understand. The things you might never get entirely.

‘Natasha.’ You said hopefully, reaching out hesitantly to rest your hand over hers. ‘Will you be my Princess Peach?’

You watched Natasha’s expression shutter with relief. Her smile was instinctive. She closed her eyes and gave you a hurried nod. She tilted forward, moving impulsively closer to you. 

Your lips found hers. The kiss was simple, warm and desperate. You felt Natasha’s light breaths against your skin. A sudden, sparking happiness made your chest tight.

Blindly, you closed your laptop and tossed it on the sofa behind you.

After a minute, you paused to look at each other. Natasha’s smile grew wider when she looked at your dazed expression. Gently, her hand cupped your cheek. You felt her thumb brush your skin with a reverence that you could only accept.

‘Maybe I did win.’ You whispered after a moment. 

Natasha laughed suddenly, tilting your chin so you were at the perfect angle. 

‘Shall we play a game?’ She intoned dramatically as she brought you back to her lips.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[dannyboy-writes]

Chin Up

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

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When you first met Natasha, she had blue hair. 

She was awkward, limbs growing faster than she knew what to do with. Still skinny enough to be drowned by a band t-shirt that needed the sleeves rolled up. 

You were the new kid at school. You were even more awkward.

On your first day, you saw her sitting alone at lunch. The cafeteria was overwhelmingly busy, seats at every other table were being fought over. You tried to keep your chin up as you walked the length of Natasha’s otherwise empty table, sliding onto the stool across from her. 

Natasha’s head snapped up from her book at your arrival. It was a beaten up paperback, spine folded back on itself. 

‘Any good?’ You asked cheerfully, if a little desperately. Just one friend. That’s all you needed. The other children made wide berths around you in the corridors, as if you were more alien than stranger. 

Natasha seemed frustrated by your inquiry. She closed her book quickly and stuffed it back in her bag.  She stared down at her half eaten peanut butter sandwich, purposefully avoiding your nervous smile.

You didn’t know what you’d done wrong.

‘Sorry.’ You muttered, heat flaming your cheeks.

You started to bounce your leg anxiously under the table. You picked at your own sandwich. You weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to look even weirder than you already were. 

A lump caught in your throat as you looked across the rest of the cafeteria. You felt jealous of the easy banter between the other large groups of students. You wished that it could be you. That you could fit in, just this once. 

‘Sometimes they steal my books.’ Natasha said unexpectedly. Her voice was carefully even. She tightened her loose grip on the strap of her backpack.

You glanced back out at the sea of students. Their playful banter had a mocking edge to it that you hadn’t noticed before.

‘That sucks.’ You answered fiercely. 

Natasha rolled her eyes casually, taking another bite of her sandwich and retrieving her book again. You took a deep breath, settled by her returned nonchalance.

You felt hungrier and refocused on your lunch. As you ate, you zeroed in on a group of girls across the room. They were laughing as they ripped pages slowly from another beaten up book. Your mouth opened in shock.

‘They’re the worst.’ Natasha spoke up again, casually following your gaze. Her tone was dismissive. 

You didn’t speak. You stared at your fingers as they twisted together atop the laminate table. Anxiety rolled through you.

So far, none of these kids seemed to like you. You weren't even sure that you wanted them to. The next few years of education stretched before you ominously. 

Suddenly, you felt a plastic wrapper graze your forearm. You startled and looked up. Natasha pushed the chocolate bar across the table with her fingertips.

‘My mom always packs two.’ She informed you with a shy shrug. 

One of the kids at this school liked you.

You smiled again.

‘I like your blue hair.’ You blurted as you took the chocolate bar. 

Natasha’s cheeks tinged pink. You caught the way she lifted her chin up when she next met your eyes. 

‘Thanks.’ She mumbled, awkwardly offering out her hand to shake. ‘My name’s Natasha.’ 

.

Natasha was your first friend. For a long time, she was your only one. 

Then, one day she was no one at all. 

.

You didn’t see her again until 2012. 

.

When your best friend had first gone missing, the stories that swarmed the neighbourhood were unbelievable.

There had been no warning from the family. No phone number, no forwarding address. 

The first rumour was that loan sharks were after Natasha’s Dad. 

Then, men in suits came knocking on the neighbours’ doors. The rumours shifted to something more criminal; money laundering, fraud. 

Bullies at school laughed at you. The joke was that you’d somehow scared off the second weirdest kid in school. You grieved Natasha’s disappearance alone.

You sat through classes silently, dreaming up a hundred reasons to justify why Natasha might leave you behind in a place like this.

Nothing could have been more far-fetched than the truth. 

A super spy.

You were watching the live news broadcast when New York was attacked. Everyone was. 

You stared at raw footage of an alien race invading the planet. Nothing could be more shocking, you thought. And then, you saw the Avengers.

Natasha did not look the same. 

No more awkward and gangly; no more blue hair. 

It was the familiar tilt of her chin as she stared up at a passing spacecraft that jolted your memory.

You knelt in front of your TV, trying to get closer to the impossible picture. 

Two days later, the city officials held a large press conference. It was hosted on the first floor of the new Stark Tower. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were in attendance.

Tony Stark called her ‘Red’ off-handedly.

That’s what gave you the idea.

There was nothing else you could think to do anyway. Natasha Romanoff had the shortest Wikipedia entry you’d ever seen.

You addressed a letter to Stark Tower in the hopes it might reach her. It was beyond a long shot, but you had to try. 

It was hard to explain the national feeling of adrenaline that lingered after the attack. It almost seemed like sure fate that Natasha would reply. Aliens were real and Earth had won. Impossible odds were being beaten all the time.

It was not that easy. It took six months for you to hear a response. 

Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night with a text. 

Despite the late hour, the message was carefully constructed. 

You used to be able to read Natasha’s nervousness a mile off. When her Dad called her home early. When the teacher called her out for exceptional work in class. When you asked her favourite Christmas present and she stumbled over the answer.

‘Thanks for reaching out.’ She began, formal with her friendliness. ‘I do remember you and I appreciated your letter. We should catch up soon.’

The text sounded distant, but you felt certain that she wouldn't have sent it if she hadn’t wanted a response.

You tried to picture the woman that you’d seen on television, but all you could think of was the blue haired girl.

Despite everything that had happened. Natasha was still Natasha.

You called her. 

She answered after two rings. Vindication rippled over your skin, you were right.

‘Hi.’ Natasha breathed out.

Her voice rasped unfamiliarly.

Your heart twisted as you heard all the years that had passed. 

Natasha Romanoff was an adult now. 

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ You told her before you had time to think.

You heard her muted surprise in shallow breaths.

‘I missed you too.’ She murmured after a moment. There was a pang of emotion in her voice, you could feel it down the phone. ‘You were my best friend.’

Your stomach swooped strangely at her words.

You tried to play off the feeling. You sighed with mock dramatics.

‘Now you prefer the Hulk right?’ You teased.

‘Oh yes.’ Natasha hummed, picking up the easy pattern of your teenage conversations. ‘He’s much better company.’

You talked for twenty minutes, mixing nostalgia with light inquiries about her new life. 

Before the call ended, Natasha invited you to visit her in New York.

It was an easy answer to give. 

When you hung up the phone, you held it close to your chest for a moment. The room was beginning to grow light with the dawn outside.

.

Natasha was not an awkward teenager anymore. 

She waited for you in the entrance of Stark Tower, dressed casually in leggings and a hoodie. 

It was unnerving. She was almost familiar to you. 

Your eyes met as you entered through the glass front doors. 

Natasha hugged herself, playing with the grey fabric of her hoodie.

You remembered the nervous gesture. You wondered if she still had the habit, or if she’d just remembered it because of you.

You sensed her uncertainty as you got closer. You opened your arms for a hug and she looked grateful for the direction. 

She fit perfectly. 

Your eyes filled with tears as her arms tightened around you. 

When Natasha pulled away, she gave you a confused look. 

You shook your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

‘I always hoped you were okay.’ You mumbled, wiping your cheeks, embarrassed at how quickly you’d gotten emotional. ‘Fuck, I’m so glad you’re alive.’

Natasha’s eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness. She tried to shake it away too. 

‘No-one’s ever said that to me before.’ She murmured under her breath, before leading you back to the Tower’s elevators.

You pondered her words during the silent elevator ride. Natasha’s life was clearly full of danger. She was on the front line of extra-terrestrial defence. She’d fought monsters on live tv. 

You thought of the fake American Mom and Dad you’d been introduced to. You thought of the little sister, who had seemed so devoted to Natasha. 

Now no one was waiting for Natasha to come home safe. 

In the elevator you took her hand, squeezing it gently.

Natasha looked at you, eyes crinkling with simple happiness. She squeezed back. 

‘Red hair suits you.’ You commented. ‘But, I preferred the blue.’

Natasha rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. The elevator doors opened. 

.

The space was obviously built to be a common area, but it was empty now. 

Natasha led you right through the middle of it. 

You entered her room, following behind her. You stopped in the doorway, trying to take it in.

As a teenager, Natasha’s bedroom had been wall-to-wall with bright posters. In contrast, this room seemed almost clinically blank. A single piece of understated art hung on the far away wall. The bedspread was pristine white, like a hotel.

Your eyes clung to the only piece of personality in the room. A stack of CDs and a CD player lay on the hardwood floor, next to the largest window you’d ever seen. You recognised the top CD’s cover art immediately; Nevermind by Nirvana.

You looked at Natasha in surprise. It had been her favourite album when you’d last known her. 

Natasha met your gaze readily. There was a glint of defiance in the tilt of her chin. 

‘Oh, so you still have good taste.’ You grinned.

There was a pause. Natasha’s lip twitched with the start of a smile. Then, she hugged herself again.

‘I loved those songs.’ Natasha whispered, and her sudden fragility startled you. ‘It was the best time.’

Her eyes were careful, but you felt the emotion hiding in them. You moved forward again, hugging her instinctively.

‘The best time.’ You agreed quietly.

You spent the afternoon listening to the album, then another one, then another. The CDs were well played. Sometimes the disc would catch for a moment, but the song would always persevere.

You didn’t feel the need to talk. 

Natasha sprawled out on her bed, head cupped in her hands as she faced you. You sat on the windowsill next to the music, leaning your head against the side and watching her in return. 

You exchanged smiles back and forth. You exchanged memories of the songs with just a twitch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip. 

Natasha’s finger tapped at the side of her jaw absentmindedly. 

Eventually, time moved on. When one album finished playing, Natasha swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched casually. You didn’t believe the nonchalance for a second, sure that such a smooth gesture must take forethought. 

‘Dinner?’ She asked and you nodded with a smile, ready and terrified to meet her roommates.

Captain America offered you a bowl of pasta.

The weirdest day of your life only got weirder. The other Avengers were sitting around watching a large flat-screen television. Natasha picked her feet up as she stepped around their legs, heading to the furthest away sofa. 

You followed behind her, muttering quiet hellos in answer to the openly curious stares of Iron Man, Hawkeye and Dr. Banner.

Natasha tucked her legs underneath her as she sat in the far corner of the sofa. 

Automatically, you followed a habit that had been established years before. You threw yourself casually into the space directly next to her. Your fork snuck over to her bowl of pasta, stealing a piece. You tasted it and grinned.

‘Yours is always better.’ You complained, watching as Natasha stuck her tongue out in response. 

You only remembered your audience when Tony Stark cleared his throat.

‘Did she tell you that she’s a ruthless assassin.’ He stated loudly, receiving a not-so-subtle elbow jab from Captain America.

‘What?’ Tony retorted, rubbing his side pointedly. ‘She’s never brought a date home before. And there must be a reason she’s called the Black Widow.’ 

You watched Natasha from the corner of your eye; the sudden embarrassment spilling over her face. The shame that lingered for a split second.

‘Not all names are literal.’ You answered bitingly, feeling an old defensive urge flaring. There had been enough bullies going after Natasha when you were at school. ‘We don’t call you Micro-Penis Man, do we?’

Hawkeye snorted with laughter, Dr. Banner’s lip twitched. 

‘Clever.’ Tony drawled sarcastically. 

You ignored him, turning back to Natasha instead. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your face. You didn’t know what she was looking for. 

You sat in silence for the rest of your meal, watching the generic movie on screen instead of engaging in more awkward conversation. More than once though, you felt the curious stares of the others lingering on you.

.

As soon as you’d both finished eating, Natasha led you back to her room. This time, the air inside felt different. You caught the loosening of her shoulders, her subtle relief at returning to her own space. She threw her hoodie on top of her bedspread.

You glanced back around the room, realising abruptly that the minimal design wasn’t meant to feel clinical. It was more reminiscent of a spa. 

You caught Natasha’s attention and gave her an encouraging smile.

‘Nice digs.’ You commented, raising your eyebrows.

Natasha laughed once, voice so much richer than you remembered. She ran her fingers through her hair. Your eyes caught on the muscles flexing in her bare arm. 

‘It’ll do.’ She shrugged teasingly. ‘It’s nicer than Ohio.’

You sniffed dramatically. ‘Less alien attacks in Ohio.’

‘Just Russian infiltration.’ Natasha countered dryly. A tension shivered through you as she finally acknowledged the unspoken. The childhood friendship that had brought you here and the lie at the centre of it. 

A burning sadness bubbled up inside you. You could taste it burning your throat. Your eyes pricked suddenly with tears. 

Natasha stared at you with confusion and something akin to fear. 

You moved toward her, watching as she resisted an urge to step further back. You took her hands in yours. You blinked and for a moment, her hair was blue.

‘I’m going to say this wrong.’ You explained ruefully, holding her wide eyed attention. Her palms were warm, soft and familiar. 

‘I’m on your side.’ You promised clumsily. ‘Even if you decide to join the aliens. Even if you don’t want it. You didn’t stop being my best friend.’

You waited for an evaluating stare, a moment of hesitation. 

Instead, you felt the soft push of Natasha’s head pressing against your shoulder. Her body moved flush against yours. Your arms slid around her back. You felt the curve of her spine beneath her clothes. The thud of her heart, hidden within a ribcage.

‘There’s a spare room ready.’ Natasha murmured at last, words muffled. ‘But maybe you can just stay in here.’

Natasha held her chin high as she took a step back, regarding you expectantly. 

A wide smile broke out on your face. 

‘A sleepover? On a school night?’ You teased, enjoying the way your acceptance brightened Natasha’s countenance too. 

.

You changed into your pyjamas in Natasha’s ensuite bathroom. You brushed your teeth and stared at yourself for a few minutes in her large mirror. 

You wondered how different you must look to her now. If she noticed all the traces of growing up laid out on your skin. 

Natasha was beginning to feel eternal. 

You left the bathroom and froze almost immediately in your tracks. 

Natasha was standing beside her bed, putting on her pyjama top. It was halfway over her head and her bare back faced you. 

You couldn’t stop your sharp intake of breath. 

Scars littered her soft curves.

Harsh, deep welts that hurt to look at. Her skin was mottled in places, coated with different shades of injury. Some scars were older, but others seemed painfully new. 

They criss-crossed into a brutal painting, brushstrokes feverishly ripped across her skin. 

A sharp sense of outrage was already burning through you. A need to fix what had already been done. 

Natasha had already pulled her top down calmly, turning to face you with steady resolve. 

‘I’m not ashamed of them.’ She said with simple directness. 

Natasha kept her chin up as you walked closer to her. You noticed the slight tremble in her jaw when you were inches from her. She held her arms still at her side and you wondered if she was resisting the urge to hug herself. Defensiveness rippled through her. A readiness to hold onto her dignity.

You had seen that stance many times before, in the high school cafeteria. 

For the first time, you realised that Natasha did not remember you like you remembered her. She could not recall the simplicity of teenage drama and stupid crushes. 

A lifetime of trauma sat between you. There was no before or after with Natasha. She’d had scars long before she’d had blue hair.

There were no words for your new understanding. Your chest squeezed with something like love or sadness.

‘I know.’ You answered her at last. You shrugged helplessly. ‘I just wish I’d been around.’

You touched Natasha’s face without thinking, a careful stroke along her cheek. Your fingers reached her hair and you touched a piece of it reverently. When you looked back to her face, Natasha’s eyes were closed. 

Your kiss was feather light. Your lips barely brushed hers. The taste of her stained your mouth anyway. You felt yourself reorientate like a compass finding North. 

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her smile was shy. You still saw the fear lingering at the edge of everything. You chose not to mind it. 

.

You slept in the same bed that night. Natasha held your arm lightly between her own. 

Her even breaths lulled you with their gentle rhythm. Loose strands of her hair tickled your clavicle. 

You stared at the ceiling and thought about intimacy. About love and friendship. 

The lingering tattoo of Natasha on your lips was spreading through your veins now.

At 3am, an alarm sounded.

Sudden and pounding, it echoed from the ceiling. A droning tempo that had you scrambling to your feet.

Natasha grabbed your arm tiredly, halting your sleepy confusion

‘Avengers alarm.’ She informed you, her voice crisp and clear. You felt like you’d barely blinked before a dressed Natasha Romanoff was walking out the door. 

All the words you wanted to say were still on your tongue. 

.

Seven hours. 

Seven hours spent pacing the common room. Watching an unhelpful news broadcast and hoping the building’s AI system might finally tell you something useful. 

Seven hours imagining the worst. Seven hours praying for her to come home. 

.

When the elevator doors opened at last, you were beside yourself. 

‘Thank God.’ You muttered as you hurried forward, pulling Natasha into a tight hug. You breathed her in. ‘Thank God.’ You repeated, more for yourself than for her.

When you let her go, Natasha took a moment to look at you properly. 

‘You waited.’ Natasha commented slowly, her gaze never wavering. 

You nodded silently, a lump caught in your throat. You couldn’t understand her expression. You didn’t have time to think

Her hand touched your waist. With one finger she reached over, tilting your chin towards her.

She licked her lips, full of intention. 

Her mouth pressed softly against yours. 

You were a compass and she was North.

.

When you fell in love with Natasha, she had red hair.

[dannyboy-writes]

i remember.

natasha romanoff x reader - angst, fluff - 6.2k

You don’t know what’s happening. That’s the first thing you think of when you wake up in an alley, gloved hands covered in blood. Confusion filters through your head. 

What happened?

Where are you?

You stand up slowly, your body swaying as you look down at what you’re wearing. You’re in a pair of black jeans, with rips throughout both legs and as you look closer you only notice how the rips have been made from slashes of a knife as your blood is dry underneath them. Your hoodie is soaking wet, your hands going into the pocket to be met with a gun and a knife. 

None of this makes sense. 

Standing there confused you try your hardest to remember anything. Anything at all. 

Red hair. Piercing green eyes. 

Death. Destruction. Pain. Loss. 

Memories whip through your brain as soon as your hand wraps around your gun. But still, none of it makes sense. 

What year is it?

You stumble down the alley, hand still wrapped around the gun resting in your pocket. You stare up at the buildings surrounding you. New York. You’re in New York. 

You watch as people pass by, words fading in and out of people’s conversations. You feel a pull, your body trying to get you to move in a certain direction but you have no clue why. 

You decide to give in, allowing your body to move. You stumble into someone muttering a sorry as they tell you to watch where you’re going. 

“What year is it?” You ask them, panic and confusion filling your voice.  “2018…” Panic feels you all over again. No that doesn’t make any sense. That’s not the year. 

Red hair. Piercing green eyes. 

A name to match the features. It echoes around your head in confusion. You know her. You can feel it. You can feel it with everything inside of you. 

Your breathing picks up, and you need to hide. You rush down another alley, hiding behind a dumpster as your head falls into your hands. 

It hurts. Your brain hurts. 

Everything is rushing through you. A place called SHEILD, the Avengers. Red hair and piercing green eyes. 

But then that stops. 

Memories of your hands hurting people now rush through you. People hurting you.

Cold. Dark. Wet. Pain. Agony. 

Then it all hits you at once. You can remember it so clearly. 

The mission, your arm getting trapped under rubble, telling her to leave. The building exploding. All you can remember after that was black and then it’s the pain. 

5 years. How, how has it been 5 years? 

Natasha? 

Natasha. Red hair, piercing green eyes. 

Her face is now so clear in your head. 

You’ve been gone 5 years. You need to find her. 

You stand up again. Walking out of the alley, taking in your surroundings as you try to get your memory to cooperate with how to get to the tower. 

She will be at the tower. 

She is the only person who makes sense. 

Everyone else is a blur. 

You find yourself walking so fast down the street, people staring at you as you practically start running. The route becomes clear in your head as you finally stop outside. 

Your hand grips your gun, you can’t be too careful, not until you find her. They could still be looking for you. 

As you walk in, alarms go off behind you as you pass through the door. Confusion fills you as you hurry to the desk. 

“Natasha. Where is Natasha?” Your hand is gripping your gun so tight.  “We need you to step back.” Voices surround you. You turn slowly, people with guns ready and raised. Your hand now lifting out of your hoodie, gun in hand like it would even match theirs. 

“NATASHA. WHERE IS NATASHA!” You shout, frustration coursing through you, why won’t people answer you?  “PUT THE GUN DOWN!” You don’t. You move closer towards the man who is shouting. Before you can reach him he shoots. 

You feel the bullet lodge into your shoulder. But you don’t stop, no pain registers. 

“I need Natasha! Listen to me!!!” You beg, you plead. Why won’t they listen?  “Natasha, who?” You wrack your brain for an answer, you try so hard, your hands finding your head as you start to hit it to try and remember. 

“Red hair, piercing green eyes!” The men around you turn to each other, murmuring as they continue to look at you.  “Come with us.” Sirens go off in your head. You aren’t leaving unless it’s with her.  “No. No. You bring her here to me, NOW!” You raise your gun again. Everyone raises theirs to face you, matching your stance. 

“We need you to drop the gun.”

“Not until she is here.” You don’t give up. If you’re leaving it’s with her. 

She is the only thing clear in your head. Your body calms with the thought of her. Memories of whispered confessions, secret nights lying beside one another, her laugh, the way your body reacted to hers, and vice versa. She is the only thing clear. You need her here now. 

“Y/n?” A man’s voice has you turning around. Your gun now facing him. His face seems familiar but you can’t place a name. It’s so frustrating, having that familiarity, but none of it makes any sense. “I don’t, I need Natasha.” You stumble over your words, tears filling your eyes at the pain going through your head. 

“Okay, okay. Do you remember me?” The man asks you, you close your eyes, trying so fucking hard to remember but you can’t. You shake your head at his question, opening your eyes to see him moving closer. 

“No, stay back! Don’t, don’t come closer!” You shout at him. His movement instantly stopped at your words. “Ok, I’m sorry. I’ll stay right here. Everyone clear the room!” He shouts his last sentence your body tensing as you watch everyone start moving around you, hurrying to the doors. You’re left in the lobby of the tower, just you and this man standing opposite each other. 

“Natasha.” Is all you can get out of your mouth once everyone has left. “She is coming, ok. How about we lower the gun and take a seat?” You shake your head no. You can’t sit down. Your hands find your head again. Your gun hits the side of your head as your frustration builds. You’re pacing around now. Even more, memories spiral around. 

The man with you, his face shows in some of the memories, but his name is still so far away. It frustrates you to no end. All of this is so confusing and you’re becoming tired. 

“Clint? What’s going on?” You turn around at the voice. Your arm lowers as your body sags in relief. Her voice is the same, she is the same. 

“Y/n?” She asks in shock, your body shaking as tears build in your eyes. She is real, you remember her. She starts rushing towards you and you hate how your body’s reaction is to raise your gun again. But she doesn’t stop moving. She keeps coming closer. 

“Stop, stop.” 

“Y/n, it’s okay. I’m here.” No, no. This could be a trap. 

“Tell me something only you would know.” Her eyes widen, you can see her wracking her brain for anything. 

“You have a birthmark that looks like a giraffe on the inside of your left thigh.” She smiles shyly at you but it only breaks you more. 

“No, no, they…they’d know that now!” You shout at her, gun gripping so tight as you move your aim to her head. If you pulled the trigger it would hit right in between her eyes. 

“Ok. Ok. Let’s calm down. It’s fine. Your favorite time of the year is winter, and it’s because it means we have longer nights in bed where we can just cuddle and be us. We can make hot chocolates and watch films in the comfort of each other arms. With no one else annoying us because they know it’s our time. Your favorite color is green, but not any green but the green in a forest when the sun hits it just right, it’s your favorite because you always said it reminded you of me. You only like marshmallows when they're toasted over a fire, other than that you hate them, they have to be gooey. You only like peanut butter with apples, anything else and you hate it. You used to hum songs in the shower no matter your mood. You would always wake before me and pull me closer to you and let me sleep for a little while longer before we had to get up to train-”

“Natasha…” You sob out, dropping the gun as you fall to your knees. Natasha finally approaches you properly now. Her arms surround you as she brings you so tightly into her. You hesitate to put your arms around her, but you grip her thighs so tightly you’re afraid you’ll leave bruises. 

“I remembered you. Only you. It’s taken me too long. I’ve been gone. I got taken. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Five years. Natasha. Red hair, piercing green eyes. I remember you. I only remember you.” You can’t stop crying, your face pushing harder into her neck and finally, you allow your arms to surround her as you take in the scent of her shampoo. 

“You’re ok. You’re here now. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Natasha whispers into your ear. Her hand comes up to the back of your head, holding you where you are, not letting you out of her arms. It’s like your body reacts to her now exaggerated breathing, her silently telling you that you need to calm down, you need to breathe. You take yourself out of her neck, your forehead finally resting on hers as you stare into her eyes. 

“I remember you.” You mutter. A smile and tears grace her face as she cups your cheek. 

“I’m glad you did. Let’s get you home, okay?” Confusion fills your face. Moving back and looking around you. “This is home?” You’re confused and rightfully so, it has been 5 years. 

“We moved a few years ago, somewhere bigger, more private. Come on, let me and Clint take you home.” She starts to stand up, her hand reaching out for yours. “Who’s Clint?” You whisper, holding her hand gently as she starts to walk towards the guy who called your name earlier. “This is Clint.” She points to him, he offers you a gentle smile, your face staying straight as you take him in. You know his face is familiar and you know that you do know him, the earlier memories of him popping up but everything else is blank. You hate it.

You stay silent the whole car journey, your hand fiddling with Natashas as she sits in the back with you. You keep trying to remember, but nothing is coming through, memories rifle through your head but they're all silent. Only she is clear, her voice is clear, her laugh. Nothing else. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you, moving between your bloodied gloved hands that she hasn’t said anything about, to your face, and then the blood seeping from your wounded shoulder. 

You pull up to the ‘compound’ as Nat called it, people rushing out of the doors have your body tensing, your hand instantly going into your pocket to grab your gun but come up empty remembering that you dropped it at the tower, but your hand wraps around the knife still present in the pocket. 

“Hey, it’s okay. They’re good, they’re safe. You know all of them but 3, it’s okay.” Natasha turns to you, her hand finding your cheek as she tries to reassure you. 

You step out of the car slowly, Natasha staying close to you as you finally approach the people standing in front of you. 

“Y/n?!” You meet eyes with another tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was in your memories. He seems shocked, relieved, and also kind of scared. But you’re not shocked, they must have thought you were dead for the past 5 years. You go to reply but stop short when you take in the person coming up behind him. That’s another face in your memories but they’re not good. 

You take a glance at Natasha, her gun in a holster on her side, you reach towards it before anyone can see what you're doing, aiming the gun at him. Everyone stands still, no one talks, no one breathes as you stare at him. 

“You said it was safe.” You say out loud, your words aimed at Natasha, but you can’t look at her, you can’t take your eyes off of him. “It is. Put the gun down.” Natasha steps in front of the gun but you aim it higher, moving your body a fraction so if you shoot it will still hit him. 

“It’s not safe if he is here!” You try to tell her but she shakes her head. “He is good, whatever memories you're thinking right now, he is good. He was taken too. He was brainwashed, he is Steve's best friend, think back more, before the Avengers, think!” You close your eyes when you feel Natasha’s hand touch your chest, your arm lowering as you allow her to take the gun. You try to think, pushing away the bad, you try to think of anything and then it happens. The guy's face coming up next to the blonde man, both wearing army uniforms. It hurts, it’s confusing, and nothing makes sense.

“You’re safe here, I wouldn’t lie to you. Would I lie to you?” Natasha whispers between you both, your eyes opening and meeting hers, your body relaxes again as you shake your head no. She wouldn’t lie to you, she never would. She sends you a small smile as her hand finds yours again, walking you towards the compound, towards the people who move out of the way for Natasha and you. Only one person goes to speak, but Natasha shakes her head and pulls me along with her, the person instantly silencing themselves. 

You take in your surroundings. Counting every step you take, remembering the way to where Natasha is taking you. She places her thumb on a doorknob, the door clicking open, and she takes you into what looks like an apartment. You walk through yourself stopping just after the door not knowing what to do with yourself.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can talk, okay?” You nod your head, words seeming like they can’t come to you right now, the confusion lingers, and nothing makes sense. Everything is so quiet. 

A knock at the door has you gripping your knife again, Natasha pauses and moves back towards it being met with the guy called Clint. He hands some clothes to Natasha, sending her a smile before she closes the door again and meets you back in the middle of the room. She walks you through into a bedroom until she opens another door and you're suddenly in a bathroom. 

“Do, do you want or need help cleaning up?” You stare back at her, you don’t want her to leave, she is the only thing that makes sense. You nod, accepting her help as she places the clothes onto the side, moving to another cupboard taking some towels out, and placing them onto the same side. She stands opposite you, her eyes still filled with tears as she takes a deep breath. Her hand moves slowly to your jacket, peeling it off of your body gently, her hands then go to the bottom of your hoodie, lifting it over her head. When it hits the floor she steps away from you, her tears falling, her mouth hanging open as she stares at you. 

You don’t understand why until you look down on yourself. Your left arm is…it’s metal? Shock feels your face as you take off the gloves covering your hands, your flesh arm moves to touch the metal, it’s freezing. You spot a mirror on the wall moving quickly to stand in front of it, you try your hardest to ignore Natasha's gasp as you stand with your back to her. You take yourself in, your metal arm, scars littering your whole torso. 

You close your eyes again. 

Your left side was trapped in the explosion. You open your eyes suddenly, more memories coming to you as you hurry to take off your trousers pushing them down your legs. Your left leg is metal too… You suppose it makes sense, you were trapped, they were probably ruined, and whoever got to you knew you’d be useless to them without anything replacing them. You flinch slightly when you feel hands slowly gliding up you're back. You look into the mirror your eyes spotting Natashas as she looks back at you through the mirror. 

“You were trapped…” 

“I know.” 

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“I told you to.”

“I shouldn’t have listened.” 

“You’d be dead if you stayed.” 

She doesn't say anything to that, because she knows it’s true.

Her hands surround your waist as she buries her head in between your shoulder blades. 

“I missed you, every day, I missed you so much.” You hear her mumble. Your back starting to get wet from her tears. You don’t know what to say, the past 5 years don’t make any sense, you can’t tell her you missed her too when you don’t even know if, in those 5 years, you even remembered her. And it breaks your heart when your silence makes her sobs echo within the bathroom. 

You don’t move, allowing her to get out what she needs to. This can’t be easy for her either. She thought you were dead for 5 years just to show up all over again. The years of bent-up anger and grief spilled out of her. 

You only then move when you feel her arms losing their grip and her sobs only seeming to get louder, if that was even possible. You turn around just in time to catch her, her body giving out to her emotional turmoil. Bringing her head to your chest, while holding her so tightly just so she can feel that you're real, feel like you are truly here after all this time. And secretly to remind yourself of the same things. She is still here too, she is also real, she isn’t something your mind has conjured up in your state. 

It isn’t long before she pulls away again, turning her back to you as she subtly wipes her eyes and cheeks before moving towards her shower. She doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t make a single sound while she focuses on her task at hand. And when she is done, she stays with her back to you and leaves the room before you can even utter any more words to her. 

You let the water completely engulf you as you try to focus on everything flowing through your head. You need to remember everything, every single moment, every single name and memory. The bad, the good, the ugly, you don't care. You lean over to grab some body wash on the side and the smell seems to trigger everything. 

Memories flood through you, names, faces, voices, everything. Your whole life flashes before your eyes and it should overwhelm you. But all you feel is relief. Relief of remembering, regardless of the bad you remember after being taken, that somehow fades away when Natasha’s face sits at the front of your mind. 

You're drawn from your thoughts when you can hear shouting echoing through the sound of the water hitting the sides of the shower, rushing out and throwing on the clothes Natasha left you before stepping out of the bathroom. 

Natasha is standing with the door wide open as Fury stands opposite her. They both stop talking when you slam the bathroom door to draw their attention away from one another.

“Nicholas.” You say clearly, shock filling Natasha's face as you move closer to them. 

“Y/n.” He echos right back, a smirk filling his face when you finally approach him, your arm winding around Natasha's waist to bring her closer to you, needing to feel her body heat against your cold skin. 

“Why are you both shouting, I could hear you both in the shower.” Natasha stays silent, her eyes furrowing as she looks up at Fury, his face having the same expression as hers. He doesn’t answer you and neither does she, he simply looks between you both and then speaks to Natasha, “10 minutes, meeting room.” And then he walks away. 

Natasha gets out of your grip, closing the door when Fury moves away. She stays quiet again, her back facing you as she stays with her back to you. The coldness confuses you, it hurts just as much. 

“We should head to the meeting room.” She finally says, her back still to you. “Nat, what’s, what’s wrong?” You whisper, placing your hand on her shoulder but you're met with her shrugging it off and moving away from you. 

“You were dead, for 5 years, to me, to all of us, you were dead. I grieved you, I put flowers on your empty grave every week. Every week since your funeral. For a whole year, I couldn’t go on missions, I couldn’t work. I didn’t leave the tower until your funeral, and then after that, I didn’t leave my room for 3 months. I then didn't go on missions for 6 months either, because you were dead. And I, I hated you for that, I hated that you made me leave, I hated that you radioed Tony to come and get me and I hated that we were forced to leave without even looking for your body. I hated that when I finally found the strength to pack your stuff away, I found a ring in your shoes. And right now, god I am so fucking happy and relieved you're alive but…” She breathes, she wipes her eyes and she meets your eyes, and the look in them breaks you. 

“But, I have now lived 5 long years without you and I’m not the ‘me’ you remember or know, Y/n. I’m not.” 

“I remembered you, Natasha, I woke up in an alley not even knowing what year it was and all I could remember was you. I remember YOU. I can- let me get to know who you are now, let me, let me remember you for who you are now.” You beg her, you need her. Especially now.

“You remembered the old me, Y/n. I’m not someone who you can love anymore. I’m not, that’s gone, that person died the day that you died.”

“Natasha…”

“We need to go to the meeting room.” She tries to deflect.

“I want to talk to you more than talking to Fury.”

“I can’t do this right now, please. Just please, let me take this in, you're here and you're alive and I don’t, I can’t process this right now.” She opens the door and walks out, the conversation over with. 

She leads you down to the meeting room, walking in front of you the whole time, every time you try to match her pace she only walks faster to get further away from you. You hate the distance between you both but you do understand it, as much as it hurts. She needs to process this, you’ve been gone, a lot has happened in those years and you can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to. So you’re not shocked when she walks you into the meeting room and leaves immediately after. 

---------------------------

You tell Fury everything. How you somehow survived the explosion, and how you remember your body being pulled from the rubble, thinking it was SHEILD but it wasn't. You tell him about the months of tests completed on you, the super soldier serum that now floods through your veins. You tell him every mission you remember, the dates, the countries, the kills. He takes you to the med bay next, and more blood is taken from you as you show them your new leg and arm, they pay close attention to the scars covering your body and you try not to cower away at that. After he is done with that he takes you to the gym, making you run the fastest you can, lifting the heaviest weights you can. You ignore the looks of shock on his and Marias faces as they write everything down. 

When you finally land back in the meeting room, you all sit in silence. Fury and Maria, continuously look at each other and then back to you. You sit back twirling your thumbs as you wait for them to say anything. And Maria is the first one to choke. 

“How do you feel? You couldn't remember anything but Natasha 5 hours ago.” I shrug my shoulders trying to find the right words to say. 

“Honestly, I feel okay. At first, it was overwhelming not remembering anything, but then when everything hit me, I was just relieved, relieved that I could actually remember. Yeah, my time at Hydra was shit, but it happened, and I’m here now. And there is only one Hydra base left which I just gave you the location too and within days that will be gone too. So I feel relieved because I won’t go back there. Because I am here, with people I know and remember. I may be different now, I know I’m different and in a week I could be feeling completely different, so if and when I do feel different, I will come straight to Maria. I promise, I am here and I am present.” I lay my hands on the table as I finish talking, Fury and Maria nodding their heads at my words. 

“I’ll sort out your death certificate. I’ll sort out your bank account and ID, all of that stuff. You’ll have it within a day. Oh, and all of your pension that we owed you for being dead I guess.” Fury tells you, standing up and leaving, but not without placing his hand on your shoulder and saying, “I’m glad you're back Y/n.”

Maria stays sitting for longer, her hands fiddling with paperwork as she gets it all together. You know she wants to say something, but you know she won’t. “So, Natasha kind of hates me, I guess.” You try to break the silence, but Maria's sighing makes her stop her movements. 

“It was rough. She wasn’t Natasha anymore, any trace of her was gone and it took a while to try and bring her back but she didn't, not really anyway. I’ve seen Natasha be so many different people, around different people but around you, that was Natasha. How she was with the guys, it wasn't how she was when you were here. But no one could do or say anything because we all knew it wouldn’t matter. Because you were gone and because of that, she wasn't ever going to come back. Especially after she found the ring. She used to wear it you know. All the time, no one said anything, worried about how she would react and then one day she stopped, and we all just thought, she had accepted it. That you were gone and wasn't coming back. She doesn’t hate you, I know she doesn’t, but right now, those 5 years of grief and loss, she is hating herself for giving up when you were out there all along, alive.” Maria, sits herself down next to you, leaning against the table as you furrow your brows, trying to process her words. You get it, like you already said, you understand. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like if the roles were the other way. Honestly, you would probably react the same way she is. 

“It wasn’t her fault.” You whisper, tears building in your eyes.

“To her, it is, was her fault. So what are you going to do about it, super soldier?”

------------------------------

You had been at the compound for a week now. It had been good, fun even. You knew most people, that is the original 6 of the Avengers. It was nice to be with them again, joking and laughing like you did all those years ago. It also helped that some new additions to the team were also nice.

It would have only been perfect if Natasha was there too but she wasn't. She had disappeared when you finally came out of your meeting with Fury and Maria, and it didn't surprise you when Clint was also gone. You knew where they were, at Clint’s farm. She needed space, you understood that but you wished she at least told you she had left, but you had to realize she didn't owe you that at all. 

It was by the second week at the compound that it then started to feel like you were now intruding into Natasha's life without you. She still hadn't come home. The constant thoughts of just leaving so she could come back were always floating around your head but another part also kept telling you that she just needs to process this and then she will be home, she will be back and it will all be okay. 

It was so conflicting, the constant back and forth. You wanted, no needed to call her but knew you shouldn’t. It kept you up most nights, resulting in you ending up falling asleep on the couch instead of in your cozy new bedroom, courtesy of Tony, it felt weird sleeping in a bed without her. It might have been 5 years, but in those 5 years, you hadn't even slept in a bed. It just never felt right, you didn't know what to do with your arms, and you didn't know how to lay. It was as if you could only exist with your arms surrounding her and it was tearing you apart.

By the third week, you were begging Maria for permission to use a jet. Natasha hadn’t answered any of your calls, texts, or even emails. Neither had Clint. Everyone could see it was affecting you, they all kept trying to tell you she would be back when she was ready but at this point, it didn't feel like she was coming back. Clint showed up in the middle of the third week, you tried speaking to him about Natasha but he wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t answer any of your questions, but he could hear and see the distress. You felt erratic, you didn’t feel like yourself and it was making it all worse. He wouldn’t let you see her or speak to her, he wouldn’t even say her name. He wouldn’t even tell you if she was safe, and that’s when you lost it. 

You had him pinned against a way, Bucky and Steve on either side of you trying to pry you off of him but even with their strength, you didn't move a muscle. And finally, when Clint realized you weren’t going to let go that’s when he muttered that Natasha was safe, something he could have done 30 minutes ago when you had asked in the first place. But you continued to hold him. Maria walked into the room then, coming up by your side and telling you to let him go. You could hear it in her voice that she wasn't going to ask again and you dropped him, walking away and out of the door without turning round. 

It got to the point where the weeks turned into months. Still no sign of her, still no word from her. It was breaking you apart. You completely distanced yourself from everyone, only coming out of your room in the middle of the night to go to the gym and then taking as much food and drink as you could back up to your room. You hadn't slept, and the bed still didn’t feel right. It was exhausting. 

And that’s when it suddenly felt like you were being punished. 

That this was only a fraction of what Natasha felt. And that she was doing this on purpose.

It all turned to anger. 

You didn’t expect to get taken. You thought you were going to die. It wasn’t your fault you lived, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look for her. You didn't remember anything until waking up all over again in an alley 5 years later. 

She was punishing you, even if she didn't realize it. 

You called her again. Her answerphone breaks you. You cried down the phone, begging for her to come home, to talk to you. To stop acting like you had died. That you have both already lost 5 years, you don’t need to lose more. 

---------------

Tony was having a party, you don't know what for. Something about it had ‘been a while’. You wanted nothing more than to stay in your bedroom, but Bucky and Steve wouldn’t let you. They forced you up, made you shower and get dressed. 

The party was boring, Thor had gone back to Asgard so in turn had taken his mead, which was the only thing that could even get you the slightest bit drunk. It felt pointless drinking when it didn’t do anything. 

The night seemed to go too slow, people coming and going as they pleased. People greet you for one minute and then say goodbye. It felt pointless. It felt like maybe 5 years ago you should have died instead. It felt like life didn’t have a meaning anymore. 

Everyone tried to get you to stay, the party still in full swing but you felt so dejected and so far from everyone it just seemed so pointless. All of it seemed pointless. They could see it too, the light in your eyes was gone, the lingering thoughts of Natasha affecting how you carried yourself every day. They saw the similarities from when Natasha lost you. It started to feel like Natasha definitely wasn’t coming back and everyone else finally started to agree. 

The party had been over for a few hours now, the clock reading 3:23 am. The room was still a mess but it felt fitting that it was the only place that would stop your thoughts from flying all over the place. You were no longer in the clothes you wore to the party but were now sporting an oversized hoodie and sweats. You got yourself comfortable on the couch. Throwing the rubbish on top of it onto the floor, someone else will deal with it tomorrow. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You needed to sleep. It had been days since you last slept, you were well and truly exhausted. You just needed to sleep to get your head straight again. 

----------------

You felt a weight on your chest, your body going tense instantly, wanting to sit up. But a hand on your cheeks stops you. You keep your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them it won’t be real. That the familiar touch and smell isn’t Natasha, that she is a fragment of your exhausted and emotional mind. Her whole body lay on top of your own. Her head is tucked into your neck. Her hand tangled in the hair on the side of your head. 

“I know you're awake.” She whispers, her breath tickling your neck. 

“You’re real.” You sigh out, opening your eyes and wrapping your arms around her back. Holding her tightly against you. Her body fits perfectly with your own.

“So are you.” She whispers again, not wanting to ruin the quietness that surrounds you both. 

“I’m sorry, I left, I just…”

“I know, I’m sorry too.” You move your body to lay on its side, Natasha's body falling beside you, trapping her between yourself and the back of the couch. You move your hand slowly to run through her hair, her breathing slow and gentle. She stares at you so intensely, and you can’t help but stare back. 

“You remembered me.” She whispers, moving closer despite the very little space between you both anyway, resting her forehead on yours. 

“I think I will always remember you, Natasha.” You breathe out, a small smile gracing her lips as she opens her eyes after taking a deep breath. 

You feel her head moving again, so slowly and subtly but you know her, even if it has been so many years, you know her. Her lips meet yours slowly, and your body starts to shiver from the action. 

The kiss is slow, but hard, every unspoken word flowing between you. 

“I will always love you, whether I am dead or missing, or simply just alive, I will always love and remember you, Natasha Romanoff, that will never change, I promise you that.” You whisper against her lips as you both pull away, a smirk now lying on her lips. She presses her lips against yours again, short and sweet just like her. 

“I will always love you too.”

You remembered her, and you always will. 

[dannyboy-writes]

Eyes for Her

Pairing: Modern!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: gaslighting, slight mentions of cheating, angst NOT EDITED

Summary: Natasha’s deepest fears get the best of her.

Main Masterlist

“I really don’t want to do this with you right now,” you sigh kicking off your wet boots and soaked coat. Shaking the rain droplets off your umbrella just outside your door before resting it on the floor.

“Why the hell not, huh? You don’t think we should talk about how fuckin messed up that was?” Natasha’s voice is urging you to fight back, begging for you to raise your voice the same level she raises hers.

“How was I supposed to control how she fuckin acts when she’s obviously drunk? In what world would I have control over her actions?”

You almost flinch at the sounds of her loud scoff. You watch as her arms raise and drop in disbelief. She rolls her eyes when you make no move to correct yourself.

Admit that you had let another woman rub herself against you and whisper drunken things in your ear with Natasha watching, even as a sick joke.

Admit that you laugh at her jokes and sometimes find yourself smiling whenever she was around.

Of course it had only been in a friendly way. You only and always have had eyes for Natalia Alianovna Romanova.

It’s quiet, for only a minute, it’s silent but the rain outside is loud. Sounds of heavy rain outside and careful cars driving through the wet streets.

Her hair is wet, straight hair has now turned into small, curly waves. Her nose is pink from the icy cold, you knew if you were to touch her hands her fingertips would feel like ice. She always ran cold, it’s what you love about her. Her coat is hanging off a dining chair. Her light grey turtleneck compliments her pale skin. She’s beautiful even when she’s angry.

“I can’t believe you.” She blinks away the tears before you had the chance to notice them. She’s letting her anger take over.

“What, Natalia? What can’t you believe?” You hiss, scolding her like a child that had left the gas on in the kitchen.

You don’t even notice the way you use her real name.

The girl in front of you does. She picks up on how mad you are, clueless, and blind.

“You literally can’t even see it!”

You scoff at her words, wishing she could just spit it out. “Just say it. I obviously don’t have a fuckin clue what we are talking about here!”

“She’s in love you with you!” She screams, there is a vein that appears on the side of her neck when she exclaims it. Once again her eyes are tearing up and she can barely see.

“Now you’re the one being unbelievable.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes! You’re crazy for thinking that!”

“No I’m not! I’m not unbelievable and I’m not crazy,” she paused, she knew if she has another word without stopping her voice would crack. “You’re so fuckin blind, Y/N!”

Your stomach sinks when she uses your first name instead of baby. There’s no room for you to react that way. You had called her by her first name as well. Before you give it much thought you open your mouth to protest but Natasha is quick to speak again.

“Don’t come up with some bullshit saying she’s just your friend. You may be her friend and think of her as nothing but a friend, but remember. I was that friend.” Natasha points to herself, memories of the first few weeks the two of you had gotten to know each other came back to you.

“I was the friend that fell in love with you! I was the one that flirted with you and got drunk so you could take care of me. I did everything so I could have your attention. I was the friend in love with you!”

-

“Hey stranger, missed you last week.” Natasha’s face lit up when she saw you walk toward the small bar entrance. “What’s wrong?”

“Ahh I know. My girl had some thing with her parents.” You explain with a playful scared look while you slide into the booth she’s sitting at. Reaching over to give her a small hug, Natasha held on for a just a second too long but of course you brushed it off.

“Parents? You guys are that serious?” Her nerves get the best of her as Natasha bites the tip of her straw, drink half full.

Your eyes unlock with hers as you flag down a waitress. Without wasting any time you order yourself a vodka tonic.

“That bad?” Natasha jokes.

You laugh loudly at her joke before sighing deeply. “Um I- I don’t really know if it’s gonna work out between me and her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Natasha is sincere with her apology, but there’s a small fraction of her that is hopeful.

“Are you?”

Natasha’s eyes widen in shock. Natasha stumbles to come up with words when you continue to look at her with raised eyebrows.

“Y-yes I’m sorry. She’s your girlfriend and if that’s not working out then I’m sorry. I want you happy because I’m your friend.”

Natasha hates every word that fell from her mouth. No she wasn’t entirely sorry to hear things were working out because she wanted you all for herself.

“It’s a bit funny cause she thinks you like me. Always going off about ‘Natasha likes you and fucking hates me cause I’m with you’.”

“I don’t hate her.” It’s true. Natasha doesn’t hate her, sure she’s jealous, but hate is such a strong word.

“But you like me?”

“Yes. Wait! No- I mean- fuck. I’m sorry.” Natasha shuts herself up by chugging the rest of her drink.

“But that’s not the problem... the problem is I like you back.”

-

“Remember?” Her voice cracks and it breaks your heart.

Your eyes meet hers and now is the time you take to look at your wife.

Anger has faded and merged into hurt. She took your silence as your confession, that you had fell out of love with her. That you were going to have the same conversation you had with your ex with her.

“Baby,” you call softly, reaching over to hug her, reaching to comfort her. Hold her in your arms and tell that you only love her and you’re sorry.

“No, don’t touch me.” She grits out with tears sliding down her cheek, flinching away from your touch as if you had burned her.

“Baby, let me explain.” You choke out, trying your best to ignore the pain in your heart when Natasha refused to let her guard down.

Poor choice of words.

“I’m leaving.”

“Don’t leave. It’s wet out. They said that the rain is coming back.” You beg softly. You don’t know why you’re not crying. You should be, but your eyes are dry.

“From the bottom of my heart, Y/N, fuck you.”

“Nat. Stop. Stop that. You don’t mean that. Just go to the room I’ll take the couch. Just don’t drive. It’s not safe.”

“No, seriously. I don’t know why I thought I was special. You’re never going to change. You will always go onto the next girl who falls for you. I am so stupid thinking you can truly love me, let alone one person.”

That’s not true, you love only one person. You only have eyes for your wife, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Only problem is you don’t have a good way of proving it.

[dannyboy-writes]

Written for the @be-compromised Summer Promptathon (even though it’s winter) - @cassiesinsanity prompted “they can’t stop the nightmares”

Warnings for prescripted drug use. (Gif not mine; 1632 words)

somnum exterreri

It’s nothing.

Nothing that Natasha can pinpoint that sets her teeth on edge and skin crawling.

Maybe it’s too much caffeine, maybe it’s the strain of being around people, maybe it’s just her goddamn brain having a low on whatever chemical it needs to regulate.

But.

The nightmares just keep coming.

The thing is, she knows that she needs sleep, and so like a good little soldier, she lays down, closes her eyes and drifts.

Sometimes it take 10 minutes, sometimes an hour, but she does it. She makes herself drop into dreamland, and goes with whatever haunting images her brain chooses to show her.

Always she wakes up.

But it doesn’t always feel like she should.

When she’s dreaming of little girls being strapped to a bed, with herself standing over them.

When she dreams of explosions taking out innocents, and then red mist coming out of everything.

When she imagines hands on her, unkind and brutal.

It’s hard.

It’s hard to wake up to a world where the night is dark and not filled with monsters, where; only she remains.

She starts isolating herself.

Human contact seems altogether too hard. Even getting morning coffee with Clint, or running with Maria.

It’s too energy consuming when she’s running on empty.

She does the work, goes home and rests.

It helps.

It doesn’t.

There’s a solo mission where she misses a shot and gets shot in return. Nothing serious. A graze. She doesn’t even go to medical. The pain feels necessary.

If she was in the Red Room she would be killed for her incompetence.

She waves off Clint when he runs up to check on her, and tells him it’s been a long day. She can’t quite hold onto his words, so she fakes it. She nods and smiles and says something generic.

It’s enough.

He says he’ll come over tomorrow and they’ll go food shopping together to replenish her stocks. She nods again, grabs his hand and squeezes.

He doesn’t need to deal with her.

She knows she messed up.

It’s time to do something about it.

She’s home within the hour, darkness just falling and she keeps to her routines. By the time she sits down, the despondency washes over her, she holds in her hand the sleeping tablet, the soft shell capsule smooth in her hand as she contemplates taking two instead of one.

She has nowhere to be tomorrow. Imagines that her body can rest, recover.

Natasha holds her head in her hands as she sits on the edge of the bed.

She doesn’t want to do this.

She has a drink of water, and takes two tablets.

She doesn’t want to do this.

.

She sleeps.

But the dreams come.

She doesn’t wake up.

She can’t wake up.

She can’t escape and they morph.

Girls turn into corpses, men turn into monsters.

The drugs pull her deeper.

Her heart beats faster, and she gulps down breaths.

There’s no rest in this sleep, it’s like treading water, exhausting and consuming.

There’s screaming.

She thinks it’s her own voice.

.

Clint arrives at 10am, coffees in hand, knocking on the door. He should really just break in, but she’d seemed… off.. And he doesn’t want to catch a bullet because she’s not at her best.

He knocks again and calls her phone.

It picks up on the sixth ring.

“I’m outside.” He says and he’s met with the dial tone.

The door unlocks.

Her hair is tied up on top of her head. His oversized tshirt looks enormous on her.

He greets her with a smile and hands over the coffee, which she declines with a wave of her hand.

She hasn’t said anything to him and he makes himself at home in the kitchen.

It’s sparse but there’s some pasta he sticks in a pot, and eggs in the fridge. He cooks the pasta and then mixes it with the egg, putting it together in a bowl and passing it across.

She looks so tired.

“You look like shit.” He tells her, knowing it’s the wrong thing to say but deciding to call her out.

“Nightmares.” She admits, taking out her hair and putting it back up again so the flyaways are off her face.

She takes her bowl and sits on the couch.

He follows her and they eat in silence.

It’s not unusual. What’s unusual is that she’s admitting it. He’s caught her in nightmares before, usually when they’re on missions.

“I know you don’t want to, but they’re there for a reason..”

She looks over to him.

“They can’t.. They don’t stop the nightmares.” She puts the bowl down and leans back, arms across her chest. “I tried last night.”

He tilts his head, not looking at her, not wanting to challenge the tentative truths she tells.

“I got stuck.. I saw..” she stops and takes a sip of water, her breath hitching. “I saw Yelena.” She lays back, head on back of the couch. “She said it was my fault.”

Clint waits.

There’s more. He knows. There’s always more when it’s her. This is probably just scratching the tip of the iceberg. It’s her putting her feelers out to make sure he’s safe to tell more too. To admit what’s really on her mind.

“There’s no reason for this,” she tells him, frustration bleeding through. “Nothing happened. Nothing triggered me.”

He thinks he sees tears.

“I can’t sleep Clint. I think it’s punishment.”

.

He lays with her, even though it’s the middle of the day.

“You’ll wake me?”

He nods, a promise of his actions, even if she doesn’t quite believe him.

He holds her hand and pulls her close.

“If this doesn’t work?” He leaves the question hanging.

She sighs. Eyes still closed.

“I’ll try it.” She concedes.

It being the prazosin. The drug that cancels out dreams. He knows she thinks that taking it means she admits to having ptsd. Taking it means, for her, that she’s not strong enough to train her brain out of the nightmares. He doesn’t even know how that thought got in her head.

They lay still and he draws patterns on the back of her hand, he’s not sure when she falls asleep, but he knows when the nightmares start.

She’s sweating, breath coming quick, a moan breaks through and he’s moving, hands on her face trying to draw her out of the sandman’s clutches.

“Natasha. Wake up.” He repeats it.

“Tash, you’re asleep. Wake up. Come on.” He pulls her into a sitting position, grabbing her wrist as she throws a sloppy hit towards him.

There’s a moment, between the awake and asleep where she’s still coming around, where the world is clouded, and the realisation that everything was just dreams lives.

Fatigue beats down on her as she knows what Clint waking her means. Realisation comes quickly, and she leaves the room. Clint knows to stay put. She’ll come to him when she’s ready. She doesn’t need him saying it.

He does wonder what her dream was about though.

.

“What if I can’t wake up again?” Natasha asks.

Clint hands over the green tablet.

“I’ll wake you.” He promises.

She balks at taking it from him, a huge sigh passing her lips.

“What if it doesn’t work?” She’s just stalling now. But he’s patient. He understands what drugs mean to her.

“I’ve taken it. Do you think any less of me for taking it?” He asks, cutting down where she’s heading with the questioning.

She looks scandalised.

“Oh course not.”

He’s gentle with his reasoning.

“Your adrenaline is spiking. We don’t know why. It’s giving you nightmares. You can’t sleep. Fatigue makes you sloppy.” She give him a look.

“This will stop it spiking. Half now, full tomorrow. Half the next and then done.” He can see her jaw clenched at the realisation that this is not a one time thing.

“Come on, Nat. You know how much no sleep gets to you. How longs it even been now?”

He can’t hear what she mutters but the bright redness of her cheeks betrays that even she knows it’s been too long.

“We have the next week off. Think of it like an experiment. If it works, great, if not we can rule it out. Yeah?” He knows he’s fighting a losing battle. She doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t really want to make her.

But.

There’s always a but. If she works off any less sleep, he knows that the flashbacks and triggers work their way into waking hours. He knows how hard it will be for her to guard her precious emotions.

She does too.

“You can do it.” He encourages. “I’ll be right here.” I’ll take care of you, the unspoken words.

She does, takes the pill and drowns it.

Opens her mouth at him out of habit.

He laughs.

“Come on. Let’s watch some shit TV.”

.

It’s morning.

It’s morning.

It’s morning.

Her head is killing her, but it’s not the headache of not getting enough sleep. It’s a dizzy haze, not unlike that of post concussion.

She did it.

Sitting up, Natasha immediately regrets her sudden movements. She can almost feel her blood pressure drop as she swings her feet over the side of the bed.

There were no dreams.

She did it.

Clint’s by her side as she sways on standing.

“Sit down.” He prompts.

She does. Leans into him, breathes in his familiar smell.

“I did it.” She whispers almost to herself but knows he hears it too, even if it’s the pride in her voice.

“You did it.” He rumbles back.

He pushes her back gently, and makes her lay down.

“Breakfast?” He asks, offering her a sliver of bacon.

.

All my fic.

[dannyboy-writes]

It Only Takes A Moment

Natasha Romanoff x Shy!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

“I feel like shit.” 

Natasha commented out of nowhere from the sofa across the room. 

You startled at her unexpected statement. Your cereal-filled spoon froze halfway to your mouth. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Natasha since you joined the Avengers six months ago.

Then, you noticed Clint shuffling bleary eyed towards the fridge. Your shoulders relaxed.

He yawned, rubbing his face as he regarded Natasha assessingly. You were perched at the breakfast bar, unobtrusive as usual.

Natasha was on the opposite side of the large space, feet curled beneath her on the tiny sofa. 

A purpling bruise on her cheek and a split lip were the painful remnants of her last mission. She looked pale too, tired in an almost chronic way, despite the empty coffee mug next to her.

“You look like shit, too.” Clint decided at last with a lazy grin. 

Natasha smirked back, obviously satisfied with his teasing response. You remembered your cereal and took another spoonful. Curiosity always burned inside you when you watched the two of them interact. You’d never had a mission with either of them before. You didn’t understand the lightness of their back and forth.

As you chewed on your breakfast, eyes roaming over Natasha’s injured face, you felt concern build inside you.

Clint gave you a friendly nod as he stacked a pile of snacks in his arms and left the room.

A steady silence returned in his wake. You were unbearably shy around Natasha as a rule. Something about her calm confidence and unreadable expression made you feel nervous. 

You knew the other Avengers just thought you were quiet.

Natasha was staring absentmindedly out the large window, her coffee long since finished. You followed her gaze outside, glancing up at the pale yellow sun that was still new in the sky.

You watched Natasha’s mouth twist into a subtle grimace of pain as she lifted her hands to try and tie her hair back in a ponytail.

You felt certain as you watched her that her injuries were more than just a bruised cheek. The worry bubbled inside you.

Eventually, Natasha gave up, letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders in a loose curtain. She looked entirely unlike herself. Until today you’d never seen her hair out of a braid.

You slipped off your bar stool and cringed at the way it squeaked on the tiled floor. You hesitated as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. Every day usually followed the same pattern. You knew Natasha was paying no attention to you, expecting you to leave the kitchen and go back to your room. 

When you turned instead to the coffee machine, you felt Natasha’s eyes flicker back to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

.

When you walked over to her, fresh cup of coffee in hand, it was the first time you’d ever surprised Natasha. 

You handed her the mug with a wordless smile.

Natasha’s answering smile was soft but her eyes held a subtle confusion. 

‘Thank you.’ She breathed, blowing automatically on the hot liquid. 

Nerves fluttered inside you. You forced yourself to speak.

‘Are you really okay?’ You asked, as your worry escaped you.

For a brief moment, shock rendered Natasha silent. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at you.

You didn’t know where your bravery was coming from. A burning embarrassment began to build inside you.

Natasha’s expression softened suddenly. She hesitated and then started to speak. 

‘I’m okay. Just had one of those missions.’

You nodded in response, your eyes lingering automatically on the painful looking bruise. From the things you’d overheard about the mission, you knew she was underplaying it. You bit your lip. Natasha watched you silently. 

‘Can I help with your hair?’ You asked at last, in another worried burst that you couldn’t seem to control.

A slight flush caught Natasha’s cheeks. Something like shame flickered in her eyes, gone a moment later.

Your breath caught. She was more human than you’d realised. More beautiful too. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha replied quietly. ‘I think I’ve hurt my shoulder.’

You nodded again, moving to stand behind the tiny sofa. You lifted her hair tie from the side table and slid it over your wrist. 

You felt Natasha’s body freeze at your first hesitant touch. 

You knew she was expecting you to tie her hair back in a quick ponytail. Instead, hardly daring to breathe, you tried something different. 

Natasha’s breath hitched when she realised what you were attempting. 

You started carefully, twisting pieces of hair together.

‘You don’t have to braid it.’ Natasha whispered after a moment, her quiet voice burning with a sudden rawness. You found yourself wishing that you could see her face. 

‘You like it braided.’ You answered simply. 

Natasha held herself impossibly still as you tried your best to replicate her usual braid. You noticed the light goosebumps raised on her skin.

Eventually, you tied the last piece, your fingers lightly brushing against her neck. 

You moved back around the sofa to face her. 

You weren’t sure if it was the flushed cheeks or your imperfect braid that made Natasha look so young. Her gaze searched yours, her eyes vulnerable.

‘It’s not very good.’ You apologised quietly. 

Natasha shook her head.

‘It’s good.’ She countered simply. There was a raw, raised scar on the back of her hand. You wondered how you’d never noticed before.

Natasha nodded to the space next to her on the sofa. She smiled suddenly, a flash of her usual cool confidence.

‘Do you want to watch some TV?’

You nodded, feeling a warm rush at the familiarity of her tone. A barrier had fallen between you. 

As you settled on the sofa, Natasha switched on the television. The daytime show was familiar, often left playing in the background of the room. 

Natasha touched the end of her braid as she watched. Her gaze stayed on the show, a picture of relaxed attention. 

You couldn’t say the same for yourself. Her light joke to Clint played in your head. The bruises, the scars, the pained movements. 

 After a few minutes, another question fell from your lips. 

‘Was it scary?’ You asked suddenly.

You watched Natasha freeze momentarily, a difficult emotion filling her eyes. You watched her blink the feeling away. She didn’t reply. 

You turned your gaze back to the television, stomach twisting for what she didn’t share. 

Eventually, you settled back against the sofa cushions, finally beginning to relax in her presence. Natasha sipped the last of her coffee.

Your usual shared silence returned.

You hoped you hadn’t ruined everything with one question.

The show ended and a commercial break began.

‘It was.’ Natasha murmured unexpectedly. Your head turned towards her.

‘It was scary.’ She whispered into the air.

This was not Natasha. Not the person everyone else saw. This was someone else. You saw her entirely for the first time.

Unspoken sympathy filled your answering gaze. 

You took her scarred hand in yours and rested it on your lap.

[dannyboy-writes]

Statements

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Shield agent!reader

Summary: Assumptions are made about the relationship you have with Natasha, so you took it upon yourself to make a statement :)

Your relationship with Natasha is built on years of trust, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding that comes from living in the shadows of espionage. You met when she first joined SHIELD, and while she was still finding her footing within the organization, you were already established as a specialist sniper—someone who worked alone, took the impossible shots, and disappeared before anyone even knew you were there.

At first, your relationship was purely professional. You recognized each other as dangerous and highly capable, but there was always a quiet pull between you. Over time, through shared missions, late-night debriefs, and the rare moments of quiet in a world full of chaos, that pull became something more. It wasn’t dramatic or rushed—it was a slow burn, a natural evolution of two people who understood each other better than most and yearned to show one another a genuine love.

Now, after almost 3 years together, your bond is unshakable. While the Avengers see you around the compound, they don’t truly know the depth of what you and Natasha have. They assume your relationship is casual, just a convenience in a life full of uncertainty. But in reality, Natasha loves you fiercely, and you love her just as much. You’re her safe place, the person she trusts with the parts of herself she doesn’t show anyone else. When the world feels too heavy, she turns to you—not for protection, because she doesn’t need it, but for the rare comfort of knowing she’s not alone.

You don’t need grand gestures or constant declarations. Your love is in the quiet moments—the way she always finds her way to you after a mission, the way you instinctively reach for her hand under the table, the way she relaxes against you when no one is watching. To the outside world, you might just be another agent who occasionally lingers at the compound. But to Natasha, you’re home.

—————————-———

Wanda was the first to recognize the depth of your relationship.

It was early—early enough that most of the team was still asleep or barely functioning. The compound was quiet, save for the soft hum of the coffee machine in the kitchen. You stood by the counter, leaning against it, eyes still heavy with sleep as you waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

Natasha, still in her sleep shorts and one of your old SHIELD t-shirts, wandered in with a yawn, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She didn’t say anything as she approached—you felt her presence before you saw her. Without hesitation, she walked straight into your space, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face into your chest.

"Mm. Too early," she mumbled against you.

You huffed a quiet laugh, your hand instinctively coming up to rub slow, soothing circles on her back. "You say that every morning, but you’re always up before me."

She hummed but didn’t respond, just tightening her grip around you as if she could steal some of your warmth. You didn’t mind. In fact, moments like this were your favorite—the ones where she let her guard down, where she wasn’t the Black Widow or an Avenger, just Natasha, just yours.

Neither of you noticed Wanda standing by the doorway, frozen mid-step. She had come in for coffee but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Natasha—fierce, guarded Natasha—melted completely against you.

Wanda had always assumed your relationship was casual. Everyone had. You weren’t around often, and Natasha never entertained deep conversations about her personal life. But standing there, watching the way she clung to you, the way your hand moved over her back with the kind of practiced ease that spoke of years of familiarity, Wanda realized they had all been wrong.

This wasn’t casual. This was love—deep, unwavering, and so achingly real.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but eventually, Natasha stirred, tilting her head up to look at you. "Coffee ready?"

"Almost," you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so natural, that Wanda almost felt like she was intruding.

Before Natasha could move away, you leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Go sit. I’ll bring you a cup."

Natasha didn’t argue, just gave you a sleepy, content smile before releasing you and making her way to the kitchen table.

Wanda finally decided to make her presence known, clearing her throat as she stepped fully into the kitchen. "Morning," she greeted, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she grabbed a mug and you unpromptedly filled it for her greeting her with a kind smile and filling Nat’s next, starting another pot for anyone else who might want it.

Natasha, already seated, just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Wanda glanced between the two of you, then just shook her head, her smirk widening. "Nothing. Just... you two are cute," she blew on her coffee.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. Meanwhile, you simply handed Natasha her coffee before grabbing your own along with d the morning crossword, completely unfazed.

Wanda took a sip of her drink, still smiling to herself. Maybe the rest of the team had been blind to it, but now she knew the truth—Natasha Romanoff was hopelessly, completely in love.

—————————-———

The next person was Steve. You had gone on another lengthy mission; it had kept you away for weeks longer than either of you liked. You had kept in touch when you could, brief calls and cryptic messages, but it wasn’t the same. And now, finally, you were back.

Steve wasn’t looking for either of you when he entered the common room. He had just been passing through, planning to grab something from the kitchen before heading to the gym. But as soon as he stepped in, he stopped in his tracks.

The lights were dim, the soft crackle of the old record player filling the space. An oldie—something slow, something familiar. And in the center of the room, barely swaying to the rhythm, was you and Natasha.

She was pressed against you, arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers idly playing with the hairs at the back of your neck. Your hands rested on her waist, holding her close as if you needed to feel her warmth to believe this moment had finally come after weeks of waiting.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need. The way Natasha clung to you, the way you held her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, it said everything.

Steve had never seen her like this. Sure, he had seen her care about people, had seen her protect and fight for those she loved. But this? This was different. This was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, completely at peace. Safe. Home.

He felt like he was intruding on something sacred, so he took a quiet step back, turning to leave—only to nearly bump into Bucky.

“what’s with the face?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at the look on Steve’s face.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “Nothing, just—” He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Bucky. “You and Sam better stop checking Nat out so much.”

Bucky scoffed. “What? We don’t—”

Steve gave him a knowing look.

Bucky shifted. “Alright, maybe Sam does. I just—y’know, appreciate a good—”

Steve cut him off. “Don’t.”

Bucky smirked. “Okay, but why the sudden warning?”

Steve shook his head again, that small smile still lingering. “Because they’re in love. Like, really in love.”

Bucky frowned. “I mean, yeah, I figured they were serious, but—”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “Not just serious. Not just together. In love.”

Bucky studied him for a second, something unreadable passing over his expression before he nodded. “Alright,” he said simply.

Steve gave him a final glance before clapping him on the shoulder and walking off, leaving Bucky standing there, a little quieter than usual.

Because if what Steve was saying was true, then it wasn’t just Natasha they had underestimated. It was you.

—————————-———

The true statement was made in the compound gym.

The gym was alive with movement—punching bags swinging, the clatter of weights, and the rhythmic sound of fists meeting training dummies. You had just finished some shooting drills when you decided to swing by, knowing exactly where Natasha would be.

Sure enough, there she was, moving like a force of nature. Every strike was precise, every kick sharp. She was a sight to behold—dangerous, powerful, and effortlessly graceful.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.

You noticed Sam and Bucky standing off to the side, arms crossed, observing her with a little too much focus. Eyes tracked her every movement, and while you weren’t necessarily the jealous type, and were well aware how gorgeous Natasha is; people couldn't help but be enamoured by her, however weren’t about to let this slide.

You strolled up beside them, tilting your head. "Enjoying the view?"

Bucky, to his credit, immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. I was admiring the technique, alright?" He nodded toward Natasha. "She’s one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen."

You eyed him for a second before nodding, accepting the explanation. Bucky was a lot of things, but he wasn’t dumb enough to cross that line.

Sam, however—

"Look, I’m just saying," Sam started, his eyes still trailing Natasha as she wiped sweat off her forehead. "It’s not my fault she moves like that. That’s a distraction."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sam glanced at you, then seemed to realize way too late that he had just said that to the one person who could make him regret it. "Uh—"

"You know what?" You rolled your shoulders, tossing your towel aside. "I feel like I haven’t sparred in a while. What do you say, Wilson? A little one-on-one?"

Sam hesitated, looking between you and Bucky, who just took a step back, clearly enjoying the fact that he wasn’t involved.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "I mean, no offense, but I’ve got wings, I’ve fought aliens—"

"You’re standing here watching my girlfriend train. I just want to see how you train too." you cut in, smirking.

The room went silent for half a beat before Bucky let out a low chuckle. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Clint grinned, nudging Wanda. "Five bucks says Sam regrets this immediately."

Natasha, who had been too focused on training to notice the exchange earlier, finally turned toward the group, eyebrow raised. "What’s going on?"

Wanda smirked. "Your sniper just challenged Sam to a sparring match because he got caught staring at you."

Natasha let out a small laugh, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she walked closer. "Oh, I have to see this."

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. "Y’all are ridiculous. But fine. Let’s do this."

You stepped onto the mat, rolling your shoulders as Sam joined you. He gave a cocky smirk. "You sure you wanna do this? I am pretty fast, you know."

You just smirked back. "We’ll see."

Steve, ever the responsible one, clapped his hands. "Alright, keep it clean."

The second Steve gave the go-ahead, you moved—fast.

Sam barely had time to react before you were already in his space, effortlessly dodging his first strike. You didn’t just block—you controlled. Every punch he threw was sidestepped. Every kick, redirected. You weren’t just fighting Sam. You were toying with him.

The smirk on his face started fading as frustration crept in. "Damn," he muttered, throwing another punch. You caught his wrist, twisting him off-balance before sweeping his legs out from under him.

Sam hit the mat with a grunt.

From the sidelines, Bucky let out a whistle. "That looked like it hurt."

Clint was grinning beside Nat.

Wanda shook her head in amusement. "He walked right into that one."

Sam groaned but pushed himself back up. "Alright, alright—lucky shot."

You didn’t respond. You just motioned for him to try again.

This time, he put more effort into his attacks, but it didn’t make a difference. Every move he made, you were already three steps ahead. You parried, countered, redirected—all with ease.

After a few more humiliating takedowns, Sam finally dropped to the mat, breathing hard, lying flat on his back. "Damn. Alright. Message received."

You crouched down beside him, grinning. "Good. Maybe next time, you’ll keep your eyes to yourself playboy"

Sam exhaled, closing his eyes. "Noted."

You stood up, offering him a hand. He took it, groaning as he got to his feet. "You really don’t like people looking at her, huh?"

You shrugged, "I know she can handle herself, I just felt like making a statement today," you smiled stepping off the mat and walking to Nat

"Possessive looks good on you," Natasha said with her signature smirk

Without a second thought, you grabbed her by the waist and kissed her—really kissed her—right in front of everyone. It was slow, deep, and left no room for doubt. Natasha, normally composed, melted into you, gripping your bicep to steady herself.

When you pulled back, she was a little breathless, a rare blush dusting her cheeks.

You smirked. "See you at dinner, love."

And with that, you walked off, leaving Natasha still catching her breath.

Clint let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Wanda smirked. "That was a statement,” Natasha throwing a towel at her, mumbling out a whatever and heading to the lockers

Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder. "So, you still gonna stare?"

Sam rolled his eyes taking a tired seat on the bench "I hate you all."

[dannyboy-writes]

Yellowjackets masterlist

Nat Scatorccio

Valentine's

[dannyboy-writes]

Valentine’s

pre crash/no crash

You stared blankly at your closet, standing in your underwear waiting for a thought to reach you.

Should you go with a more formal outfit, or casual? Maybe something nice but not too much… Maybe your usual clothes would be alright. A nice shirt would be good, too.

“You’re going to put something on, Y/n?” Nat asked, leaning by the doorframe.

She looked stunning. A red shirt under her usual leather jacket, bringing out her red tinted lips. Her combat boots and fishnets with a skirt.

Stan was a lucky fella.

“I might go just like this, you know… Maybe Taylor would like that.” You smiled. “What do you think, slacks or jeans?” You held a pair of each.

“Hmm… Jeans. Slacks are just way too much. You don’t wanna look desperate.”

“Right. I don’t wanna look trashy, either.“

She watched you debate with your own thoughts. The slacks would be a nice touch, but she loved the way those jeans fit you.

“Do you think this is fine?” She asked as you pulled your jeans up.

“Oh, yes. You look gorgeous, Nat. Just plain stunning… Trust me, Stan is going to be too shocked to speak.” You knew you would.

“You think?”

“I know, yeah. That outfit makes you look in all the right places,” you chuckled. You went through your shirts scrambling the drawer. “And if he doesn’t notice that then he’s an idiot. Trust me on that.”

She blushed slightly, smiling wide. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a tiny bit jealous of Taylor.

“Now, what should I put on top,” you asked her, holding a few shirts.

Me. “The white one.” She told you.

“Right! The white one. A classic.”

Why was she going out with Stan? She didn’t even fancy him that much, he’d just… asked her first. She didn’t know if you were ever going to ask her, and then Taylor asked you and you were so happy. One valentine’s day going out.

She didn’t want to ruin that for you.

“I don’t want to go out with Stan,” she blurted. Her eyes widening in shock as you stopped putting the clothes back in your closet.

“Why not,” you asked. “Everyone goes out for Valentine’s… it doesn't mean anything serious.” You hoped.

“I- don’t know. I guess, it seems so distant now.” She didn’t pull her eyes off of you as you approached her.

But you were her friend now. The ship had sailed, you told yourself. So you’d be a good friend.

“You were so excited when he asked,” you swallowed your feelings. “Plus, you dressed up so lovely, and you made your hair, and you put on your special make up for going out…”

“My special make up?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes, I see everything, dear. I know that’s not your everyday trashy eye shadow. That's a special eyeshadow.”

It was.

She looked at you closer now. You had taken one of her hands, and she thought so little of Stan and so much of you.

“Don’t go with Taylor,” she asked you softly, staring into your eyes. Natalie Scatorccio does not beg, but she would for you.

For a second you didn’t understand, and your face gave you up completely.

“Stay with me.” She begged.

You stared at her eyes dumbfoundedly, then at her lips, then at her hands, then her eyes again. Then her lips.

Her red tainted lips.

“Yes.”

She kissed you desperately. She ruffled your hair in a rush of pulling herself closer to you, and succeeding in such.

Her lips so very soft against your own, biting slightly. Smiling.

Her hands moving from your hair to your neck and your chest. Your own hands, clumsily holding her waist and then her back, holding her close to you.

[dannyboy-writes]

Reckless

This was a request from a long time ago, sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy!! (Sibling reader)

Cassie didn't understand how you always managed to get hurt at missions.

There was the time you sprained your ankle jumping off the roof before the explosion went off. And the recovery timeout you didn’t take, also.

The other time when you got stabbed in the thigh in between fights. Or how some thug busted your nose. Or when someone twisted your arm. Or the stray bullet grazing your shoulder. The many stitches you’d had to have sewn in your head and back.

It was after the arm injury that Cassie started to pay closer attention to you. How you operated in missions, how much water you drank in a day, what you ate, how you tended your wounds.

She wasn’t going to have her big sister card revoked by letting you off with drinking two energy drinks and eating a bag of chips for the night. That much was certain.

“Hey, y/n,” She called. “I’m making pasta!”

“Oh, thanks Cass. I‘m not really hungry though. Maybe tomorrow.”

“What do you mean you‘re not hungry, you’ve eaten no more than junk the past days.”

You crossed your arms, wincing slightly. “Huh, you’re keeping tabs on me, now?”

She laughed nervously, “Pff, no. I just… worry.”

You didn’t ease up with the judgy look. “You worry?”

“I- Yes, I do.” She huffed. “You’ve been reckless. Like, overly reckless. I’m worried for you. And you’re eating poorly, and drinking too much caffeine, and I- I don’t want anything to happen to you, y/n.”

“I mean, the food, I guess… But getting hurt is part of the job, Cass. You knew that, and I knew that.” You defended.

“Yes, I know. But it feels like something else… Like you don’t care if you get injured.” She gazed downwards. “You used to think twice before jumping off buildings and your bike, and you used to take time off to get well. Now, you don’t.”

“Cassie… You don’t have to worry.”

“But I worry. Please promise me you’ll try to be careful.”

She looked at you intently, still, as you shuffled your feet.

“I will.”

[dannyboy-writes]

Just some IV

Helloo!! This is the end of this story! I hope you’ve enjoyed it and thank you so much for all the feedback it had :)

The sunlight coming from the window startled you, and you noticed Natasha standing by it, her back to you.

She had only just woken, or you had grown too used to her slipping out of your arms as you slept.

“Why are you up?” You asked, your voice straining at your throat.

She tensed, then relaxed. “I was thinking.”

“What?”

“It’s late.”

“By the way the light is coming in, yes." It was probably mid morning, Fury wasn't going to like the lost hours. "But you weren't thinking that." 

She smiled to herself, turning to look at you. "No, I wasn't."

You stretched your arms and back, still laying down. "What were you really thinking?" 

She shook her head, "It doesn't matter."

You weren't satisfied with her answer, but she continued nonetheless, "How's your nose?"

You sat up, “I've had worse."

She sat by you, toying with her fingers. Silent.

"How did you sleep?" You asked.

She sighed, "Fine for a while."

"And then?"

"I keep having nightmares," she admitted, your eyes focused on her.

Nightmares were common in your line of work, you grew used to them. Waking up in a cold sweat, hand in your gun or a knife. Throwing something nearby your hand in a reflex.

"What about?"

She bit her lip, staring at you. At your busted nose, and the stitches they had sewn in your eyebrow. Light violet bruise by your cheek and half your face lit with the sun.

The morning sunlight did wonders in your face. 

"You." She let out quickly. "You're in all my nightmares."

You furrowed your brows, "Wha- How? Why?"

"I'm terrified.”

”Of me?"

“For you.” Your eyes were so focused on hers she felt you would pierce through her. “I'm terrified of what could happen to you. Every night I dream something goes wrong, and every night I wake up panting thinking you're gone.

I've had them for so long now. First I thought they would go away, that one day I would just stop freaking out. Then I pushed you away because it was driving me crazy,” she smiled, “And that didn't work. At all. Now I was just worried but at a distance. And then I couldn't sleep anymore.”

You didn't speak.

"The night we fell asleep on the couch was the first real sleep I had in weeks. And that is not a comfy sofa," she chuckled.

She searched in your face for a hint of something, but you had always been hard to read. “Say something, please."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I- Thought it would be easier."

You shook your head in disbelief, pinching your nose softly, and you looked up at her.

Her hair fell on her face as she looked downwards some more, so you tilted her head up holding her cheeks. "I never wanted this to be over. It was your call." You put a hair strand behind her ear. "Is that still what you want, Nat?"

Her eyes found yours with determination this time. "No."

You kissed her deeply and she melted into you, desperate for your embrace. Your hands rustling her hair and pulling her closer to you. Not stopping to breathe. 

Her nose brushed yours and a pinch of pain went up your nerves, but you swallowed any whine that would come out. Her hands clasped tightly your face, not letting you go.

She pulled closer and closer to you and one movement put her nose too close to yours and you stopped in pain.

"I'm sorry." She stopped to look at you. 

“It’s fine.” You caressed her cheek. “I’m more than okay.” You smiled.

“Me too.”

[dannyboy-writes]

Thank you for taking one for the team! Since you are taking requests can you do a Se-mi x reader where reader is a part of Gi-hun's group and tries to get her to join the team?

A/N: (￣^￣ )ゞ Ofc ofc, more Se-Mi for the soul! I noticed you all really like her haha

Please, Come With Me—Player Se-Mi x GN! Player Reader

Se-Mi was an interesting girl.

You had seen her occasionally, but never really paid much attention to her. Sure, she was certainly attractive—you would be lying if you said that her short hair and many piercings hadn’t left you flustered the first time you laid eyes on her—but the girl quickly flew from your mind when you realized your life was at stake.

You couldn’t afford to die now, not when you had a loved one waiting for you on the other side.

But, during the Six-Legged Race, something happened that shifted your perception on Se-Mi.

As you stood there with Gi-Hun, waiting for the final people in your group to get into their respective teams, you noticed three men approaching Se-Mi.

The purple haired guy—who made it clear that his name was Thanos—smirked, looking up and down at Se-Mi before asking her to join his team. Nam-su or Nam-gyu—you couldn’t remember which—tried to get him to stop, but Thanos merely brushed him aside.

Of course, the way the men acted hadn’t thrown the thought of Se-Mi back into your orbit—it was what happened next.

Se-Mi seemed reluctant, tilting her head to the side as the beginnings of a grin formed on her lips. She didn’t seem at all impressed or intimidated by the fact that Thanos was a famous rapper. Rather, she looked amused.

“Ah, Thanos,” She started, her face growing wry, “Do you have all of the infinity stones?”

When you heard that, you couldn’t stop the giggle that burst from your lips.

Okay, Se-Mi has humor. You liked that.

After that exchange, you were more observant to the woman. You noticed how she had a type of fire inside her, one that couldn’t be put out easily by men like Nam-Gyu (or Nam-Su). And, you saw how used that very same fire to nurture the more vulnerable, like the boy who had refused to leave her side during the entire match.

She’s a good person. And she’s so pretty too.

Something peculiar bloomed inside you. It began from your chest, then spread to your collarbone, your neck, and then finally, your face.

You crossed your arms together, cheeks growing hot.

It would certainly be a shame of Se-Mi died. You wouldn’t mind helping her out a little if she needed it. In fact—

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

Gi-Hun’s gruff voice startled you from your thoughts, and you all but jumped back.

“W…what?”

He sighed and shook his head. You looked down, feeling like a kid about to hand their father their less than savory test score.

“I said, it is important that we closely observe the games so that we can note any strategies the other players use. It will be good for us.”

He turned his gaze to your direction, scooting his body closer to you.

“You shouldn’t be distracted by other things, not when you could die if you don’t do your part on time,” Gi-Hun said, before squinting his eyes. “What were you even looking at, anyways?”

You looked into your lap, feeling embarrassed.

“It was nothing!” You squeak, though it doesn’t sound convincing even to your ears.

Gi-Hun ignored you, craning his neck so that he could get a better view.

Your stomach sank as he started to grin.

“Ah, kid, were you staring at that cute girl with the piercings?”

The tips of your ears grew hot.

You debated on denying it, but knew that it would be of no use. You weren’t an idiot, you knew your body language gave it away eons ago.

Instead, you simply cleared your throat, turning your eyes back to the current race.

“Hey, what was that about observing the contestants of the race?”

Gi-Hun simply laughed, slapping your back hard enough to make your eyes water.

“Oh, don’t be shy, kid. Why, I remember how I felt the first time I met my ex-wife! I don’t know how I thought wooing her with a monkey would work…”

Letting out a groan, you covered your face with your hands.

Not this story again!

—

You decided you absolutely didn’t like Nam-Gyu.

He seemed to have it out for Se-Mi, choosing to constantly make snide comments about her to her face. Now, it wasn’t as if Se-Mi was utterly defenseless, as she would always stand her ground whenever she or Min-Su was insulted, but you still didn’t like seeing her have to be on edge so often.

You looked back to your crew, watching as Dae-ho told a joke you couldn’t quite hear. Jun-hee had doubled over laughing, spilling a bit of her milk onto the floor.

Se-Mi should be able to joke around and not have to constantly defend herself.

The boy she was protecting isn’t even trying to help her back.

You scowled, opening your milk carton with more force than necessary.

“Hey, you okay, kid?”

You didn’t even have to look back to know who it was. Instead, you frown, taking a swig at your milk carton before you said, “Hey, how would you feel if we had another member in this team?”

Gi-Hun blinked.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

He turned back to the others.

“Hey, would you guys be okay if someone else joined us?”

“Heck yeah!” Dae-Ho screamed. “The more the merrier.”

As soon as those words left his lips, the another people whooped and cheered.

Gi-Hun nudged your shoulder, a smile on his face.

“I don’t think the others would mind, either. Think you can convince that girl with piercings to join us, though?”

Fuck.

At your startled expression, he let out a full belly laugh.

“Ah, I pieced a few things together. You don’t exactly have a great poker face, kid.”

You let out a small grumble, but felt relieved all the same.

At least you didn’t have two people to convince. Something told you that Se-Mi wasn’t going to be easily swayed.

Suddenly, a piece of bread was shoved in front of your face.

“Eat up, kid. I believe in you.”

—

You had to convince her. Now.

Your mouth fell open when you saw Se-Mi choose X. Now that she did that, it was more than likely that Thanos and his lackeys would be after her.

The only ally she had left was a boy who wouldn’t stand up for himself.

You tightened your fists. It would be dangerous for her to be alone tonight.

—

As the countdown for bedtime commenced, you quickly walked over to her, pretending to ignore the little thumbs-up Gi-Hun sent your way.

You couldn’t be distracted.

Se-Mi stood in the far right corner, the only indicator that it even was her being her lip piercing as it glimmered under the artificial light.

When you got closer, you put a hand in the air.

“Hey!”

She looked up from her conversation with Min-Su, startled. Her eyes seemed to narrow as you walked closer.

When the boy noticed you, he froze and quietly slunk behind her.

“Hey?”

Your heart thundered in your chest, and already you could feel doubt festering in your gut.

You pushed it to aside.

Clearing your throat, you put on your best smile and waved at her.

“Uhm, I was wondering if you would like to join my group. We’re—“

“Yeah, I know what time you’re in,” Se-Mi interrupted, eyed gliding to Gi-Hun. “I’m not interested. Min-Su and I are fine on our own.”

As she began to walk away, you could feel your chance to convince her dwindling. Hastily, you followed after.

“Wait, please!” You yell a little too loud, causing some of the players around you to give confused looks.

Se-Mi walked faster.

Cursing, you picked up your pace and tried to grab her arm.

She pushed you away.

“Is this why you were staring at me so often?” Se-Mi demanded, roughly pulling her arm away from you. She straightened up, crossing her arms together as she took a step towards you. “I don’t need your pity. I know what I signed up for when I voted X, and I’m wholly prepared to deal with the consequences.”

Despite the circumstances, you blushed.

“You noticed?”

She smiled, though it was more out of malice than humor.

“It was a bit hard not to when your eyes were glued to me, sweetheart.”

You knew the pet name was soaked in derision, but that didn’t stop your damned stomach from doing summersaults.

Determinedly, you ignored her words.

“I just want to help you, Se-Mi. You know how those guys treated you.”

She scowled.

“As I said before, I don’t need your charity. I am doing just fine with—“

“Please!”

The word burst out of your lips before you could stop it.

Se-Mi looked taken back. Behind her, you heard a soft gasp.

Fighting through your embarrassment, you continue onward.

“I stared at you for so long because I felt that you’re really pretty and I sorta-liked-how-you-stood-up-for-yourself.” The last half of the sentence was spoken in a rush.

“But when I offered you help, it’s not because I pity you, Se-Mi, it’s because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Se-Mi raised an eyebrow. Her stance was more relaxed now, though her eyebrows were still furrowed.

“Why? We’re practically strangers.”

“Well…” You bit your lip. “I know that you probably have people who care for you outside the games, Se-Mi.”

You pointed a finger at yourself. “Hell, I do too. I’m only in this damned hellhole because I need to pay for my relative’s medical bills. They’re going to die if they don’t get it.”

You felt your eyes water.

“They’re…all I have left on this damned rock.”

Se-Mi exhaled softly. Her eyes were gentler now, and her lips pressed into a thin line. Hesitantly, she reached out to hold your hand.

You allowed it, curling your fingers around her hand.

“Se-Mi, there is no doubt that you are very strong. But, despite that, I don’t think you should get needlessly injured if you have a way out.”

You placed your other hand on the back of your neck.

“It’s not pity. Think of it more as…an alliance.”

As Se-Mi chewed her lip, your eyes traveled down to your joined hands. You focused on the warmth that radiated from her, and pressed against the callouses on her knuckles.

You knew she had been through a lot, even before she had stepped foot into death game.

Finally, she blew out a breath.

“Oh all right, I’ll join your little team,” She said at last, pulling her hand back so she could nudge you with her elbow. “I know you won’t stop badgering me about it if I refuse.”

She glanced at the boy behind her. “Min-Su, what do you think?”

He only gave a shy nod as his response.

You grinned.

You did it!

Before you could drop yourself, you practically tackled her, enveloping the woman into your embrace.

She froze for a moment, then returned your hug, chuckling.

“Thank you!”

Amusedly, Se-Mi shook her head. “Whose life are we saving again?”

Too elated to be embarrassed by her comment, you simply let go and reached out your hand.

“Come on!” You chirped.

Se-Mi took your hand.

“Lead the way, sweetheart. Oh, and by the way,” She said, drawing out the last syllable in a way that only foretold mischief.

You motioned for her to continue, trying to steel yourself.

Endearingly, Se-Mi pinched your cheek.

“What was that earlier about you finding me pretty?”

[dannyboy-writes]

Don't Go (I'll Stop You Before You Do)

Pairing: Se-mi x GN! Reader | Player 380 x GN! Reader

Synopsis: There's a glint of steel in the far right corner. The lights flicker on and off, but you manage to catch a glimpse of Se-Mi's face as hands wrap around her throat, as the weapon sinks into her skin.

She screams, and you run.

A/N: I wrote this on a whim! So sorry if my writing is a little subpar here, I was SO eager to get it out! I tried my best, though! (I love Se-Mi so much it hurts).

A man twice your size walks up to you, his face twisted into a ghoulish smile. You take a step back, eyes trained on the fork in his tight fists.

You try not to focus on the blood that oozed from the tip.

The lights flicker on for just a split second, illuminating his bared, yellow teeth.

He was a large, brawny thing. Muscles bulged from his bloody tracker, and he had to bend over slightly to meet your gaze. His hair was slicken with sweat--he was covered in it, really. It trailed down his veiny neck, past a tattoo of a design you couldn't quite make out, and fell onto your shoulder.

You bit back a scream.

He leaned back, amused at your expression. He didn't seem to care about the contestants fighting behind him, rather, it seemed as if he relished in it.

Lazily, he tapped the tag taped to your tracker.

"You really shouldn't have picked X if you didn't want to get hurt," He drawled. "In fact..."

The man stepped back, and continued talking, though you soon drowned out his words. Instead. you flickered your eyes around you, trying to devise a plan to escape his clutch. You couldn't stay here. You had to make sure that she's okay. You had to-

Pain exploded in your cheek.

With a gasp, you scramble backward, wincing when your back collided with the cold steel wall. Hot, sharp pain stung your right cheek and tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.

The man leaned in, trailing his fork on your neck.

"You listen to me when I talk to you, you hear?"

Hate broiled within you, and your face curled into a sneer. You shift your body to the side, hands pushing his fork back as you knee him in the crotch.

"Go fuck yourself."

The man howled, his legs buckling beneath him. He ripped his hand away from your grasp and swung his fork around wildly.

"Why you little-"

A burst of pain escaped from your shoulder, making you scream in agony. The man wedged the weapon deeper into your flesh, twisting and turning until you collapsed onto the floor.

Meaty fists plummeted against your skull again and again, each new crunch spiraling you further and further into the depths of unconsciousness.

Desperately, you roll to the side and begin wrenching the fork from his hands, fighting to keep your eyes open.

This was your only chance. You couldn't overpower him, and you can't let yourself die while Se-Mi's fate was still left unknown. You had to go to her no matter what.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but you slammed your head against his before any words could escape.

His grip loosened ever so slightly, letting you pry the fork from his hands.

Quickly, you begin stabbing the weapon into his neck, his face--anywhere that looked important.

Soon, blood was pouring from his wounds and his movements grew sluggish. The metallic liquid permeated every one of your senses, and you were afraid it would brand itself into your very soul. With a final stab, the man fell to the floor and didn't get back up. You let out a shaky sigh and crawled away from the man.

Fearfully, you looked around.

Everything felt like it was...more muted, as if you were merely a fish watching the chaos unfold from below. Your head hurt like hell, and each breath you took didn't seem to give quite as much air as it should. The wound in your shoulder was something else entirely, choosing to make itself known with every little movement you made.

Quickly, you tear a piece of cloth from the limp man and wrapped it around the wound.

Like hell were you going to bleed out now.

You look around the room, gripping the utensil with so much force that you were surprised it didn't crumble in your hands.

Where the fuck is Se-Mi?

You let out a breath and scrambled in the direction of her bunk. You supposed you were somewhat fortunate that the man ambushed you in bed, as you didn't need as much sight to devise where she was.

The further you ran, the harder fear gripped your heart. Fallen bodies lay strewn across the floor, accompanying equally as many splotches of blood.

What if one of them is her?

You shove that thought to the furthest corner of your mind.

No, Se-Mi was one of the strongest women you knew. She wouldn't let someone kill her so easily. And, she had Min-Su to protect her!

Right?

When you reached her corner of the bunk beds, you looked around wildly.

Men and women alike grappled against each other, too busy in their own fights to pay you any mind. An elderly man was clubbing his opponent with a metal pipe, a woman was slamming her own against the floor, while another group entirely cornered a lone contestant.

"Se-Mi!" You scream, loud enough to make your sore vocal cords hate you. "Where the hell are you?"

There was no answer.

"Fuck, Se-Mi, please!" You yell.

Suddenly, it was getting harder to breathe, to see. You didn't know if it was due to the lack of blood or the stupid flighty panic pounding in your chest, but whatever it was it was sapping the strength away from your legs and rendering your ability to stand upright near impossible.

A flash of Se-Mi's bloody face appeared in your mind, almost mockingly. Above her stood Thanos and his lackey, drenched in her blood and grinning from ear to ear.

No, no, no-

You can't let that happen. You won't.

Se-Mi was the only light you still hand in this damned tunnel of the world. You couldn't fail her, not now.

You had to-

And, just then, you hear something that makes your heart drop.

It was your name, whispered oh so softly that you were afraid you had imagined it. But then, you hear it again and again, and soon you were running towards the voice, uncaring of who you pushed past.

You glared into the darkness, as if your gaze could part away the dimness to reveal your beloved. If you could see just a little further, then maybe you could spot her and kill whatever bastard was hurting her.

Panting, you stop for a moment and crane your gaze to the right and-

There's a glint of steel in the far right corner. The lights flicker on and off, but you catch a glimpse of Se-Mi's face as hands wrap around her throat, as the weapon sinks into her skin.

She screams, and you run.

You run faster than you thought you were ever capable of. Your surroundings blur, the screams of the others become muffled, and in your mind it was just you, Se-Mi, and the man who was stabbing something into her jugular.

"Get off of her you asshole!" You hiss, hooking your arms around his armpits and pulling him back. In the corner of your eye, you see Se-Mi yank herself away from the (fork? glass shard? You couldn't quite tell) object and sink into the floor.

Angrily, Nam-gyu whips his head towards you and sneers. "Why, if it isn't Se-Mi's little bitch. I'm surprised you didn't come running to her aid the second I plunged that shard into her. Thought you were lying dead in a pool of blood or some shit." Hastily, he yanks your head back. "After all, you wouldn't ever abandon your master, now would you?"

"Just shut up, you asshole," You spat out, and slammed your fork onto his chest. He moved away at the last second, letting the weapon swing in the air instead.

You let out a curse as you begin to lose balance, but turn your body to the side just enough to lock his neck in your elbow. You lean against one of the pillars holding the mattresses upright and begin to squeeze, cutting his airflow.

The sight of his panicked eyes made you smirk.

"And you're one to talk," You spat out, pulling his hair to slam his head against the metal beam. "You've been following Thanos around like a lost fucking dog. I'm surprised you can make decisions without him around."

You pause, and take a quick glance around the room.

"Where the hell is he, anyway?"

There's a sharp intake of breath as Nam-gyu stills.

And then he bites your shoulder.

Swallowing back a sob, you release your hold on his neck and step backward. Whatever small blood clot that managed to form breaks, allowing the dam to break loose. Nam-gyu pushes you onto the floor, voice cracking as he kicks your ribs.

"He's fucking dead! Your side fucking killed him!"

His hands grab your collar, and he pulls you close enough for you to see the veins bulging out of his neck.

"And now, I'm going to kill you too--"

Nam-gyu doesn't get to finish his sentence.

What were once words instead turns into choked gurgles. Blood spills from his mouth, and his eyes roll back into his skull. A thick glass shard protrudes from his throat, deep enough that you knew he was a dead man walking. Another, smaller shard soon follows, spraying you with his blood.

Before long, his limp body was thrown to the side, and his filthy presence was instead replaced with a comforting one.

Se-Mi nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck, breathing shallowly. Her arms wrapped around your waist, and though your ribs and shoulder screamed in protest, you couldn't bring yourself to pull her away.

"...Thank you," She murmured, and you melted into her touch.

"It's nothing, really," You say, suddenly feeling bashful.

"No, it was everything." Se-Mi pulled away to look at you, cupping your face in her hand. "I would've died if it wasn't for you."

"What about Min-Su?" You furrow your brows, looking around. "Where is he?"

Se-Mi let out a shaky sigh, stilling in your embrace.

"It...doesn't matter."

"But it does! Why the hell would he--"

Se-Mi gently flicked your forehead, rendering your brain momentarily speechless. "Hush now," She whispered, arms bringing you close to her once more. "All that matters now is keeping you and I safe. You're bleeding."

Delicately, she rips a chunk of her tracker to use as a make-shift band-aid, tying it around your shoulder and knotting it twice. Then, she pulls you to a safe corner of the room and begins fussing over cuts you don't remember getting.

Basking in her attention, you turn your gaze to her neck and cup the wound. Though the bleeding had stopped, the size and brutality of the wound made your heart ache. It was long and ugly, like someone had taken a miniature saw and brandished it against her jugular.

Worry wormed its way into your heart.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt too much when you move?"

"I'm fine--"

"No, you are not!" Frowning, you break from her hold and press a kiss to her neck. Your gaze turns downward, noticing a gash on her leg. "You really shouldn't ignore your own needs, Se-Mi."

Protectively, you wipe the blood away from her calf and kiss her nose.

"I'm your partner, Se-Mi. We promised to protect each other, okay?"

Se-Mi smiles, and leans into your touch. She places a hand in your hair and kisses you softly. You whine and kiss her back, savoring the sweet taste of her lips.

"I know, I'm sorry" She whispers when the two of you pull away at last. "I love you."

With a smile, you intertwine your hand in hers.

"I love you too."

You didn't know what hellish nightmare would happen tomorrow, but what you knew for certain was that you would face it with her, together.

[dannyboy-writes]

Out of days II

Chishiya drove through a bridge and got to a greenhouse, lit only with the necessary light, mostly dark. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” He asked again.

“Yeah, what if I have to kill you? Who’s gonna drive me places,” you said with a grin.

He fake laughed and raised his arms, “If you’re sure. I’ll wait here.”

You nodded and got into the greenhouse, seeing gardening tools and knives with a sign ‘Take at will’. You grabbed two knives, just in case, and took a phone, waiting for some more people.

A guy and a girl came in, holding hands, probably together. They grabbed a phone and waited at the other side of the table with tools, eyeing you from time to time.

Some minutes later a tattooed man got inside, hustling before the registration closed. He grabbed a phone and a screwdriver, and waited for the instructions.

Hide and seek. One wolf and three lambs. Oh, and a 7 of hearts game. Great.

Thank god I told Chishiya to stay behind, you thought.

The first wolf was the girl, who quickly looked at her boyfriend, giving him the role. He looked back at her, and so on for some time.

You figured the lambs were less at a disadvantage than in nature, and so did the guy with the tattoos, who quickly launched at the guy with a knife wide open. He slashed his throat but failed to get the wolf.

The girl had it.

She started running but the guy found her and stole the wolf. He turned to you nex, avoiding eye contact, there were ten minutes left on the clock. Anything could happen, really. 

“You don’t have to die right now,” he warned.

You tighten your grip over the knife. “I’ll die anyways if I don’t,” you told him.

-

Chishiya stood by the car, trying to stop his mind from thinking the worst. It was hard already, but even harder for him, who was always planning ahead. Always thinking about the next step.

He had just gotten you back, so to speak, and he wasn’t sure he could lose you again.

A figure left the greenhouse, holding tightly to their shoulder. He approached them and soon enough realized it was you.

He ran to you and held onto you, helping you stand.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he said, walking to the car.

“Yeah, well, almost didn’t,” you said, showing him your blood soaked hand.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hurrying to the car. “There is a first aid kit in the trunk, come on.”

You nodded and followed him, sitting in the back seat as he tended to your wound. 

“What game was it,” he asked in hopes of keeping you awake.

You flinched as he put a gauze over the wound. “Hide and seek.”

“What type?”

“Hearts,” you sighed. “I have a week to recover from this, so there’s time.”

Good, thought Chishiya.

Once you were all parched up he started driving, leaving you to doze off in the back seat.

You woke up in an abandoned building and saw Chishiya staring outside the window.

“Is it raining?” You asked him, making him jump.

“Yes,” he mused before turning to you. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be worse, really.”

“We have to go back to the Beach.”

You furrowed your eyebrows confused, “No thanks, I rather not go back to where they all want me dead.”

“There’s something I have to do,” he said, walking towards you. “You’ll be safe, don’t worry.”

“Right…” You muttered. "What would that be? Just to know.”

“Kuina and I were planning something…”

“You're making plans without me?" You teased him. “Oh, come on. A little laugh. I almost died Chishiya.”

“I know.”

He kept driving in silence, looking at you through the rearview mirror. I know.

“Once we get there, wait for me in the car. Ready to leave as soon as possible.”

“Sure.”

You waited over twenty minutes for Chishiya to return, and your initial uneasiness had worn over, now just resting in the driver's seat. You had bandaged over the cuts in your stomach and arms lousily, and traced with your eyes the cuts and soon to be bruises in your hands. Picking a maroon tint from under your nails.

You didn't know whose blood it was, really.

Chishiya ran towards the car as you flinched, starting the vehicle. With him came Kuina and two more people. All scurrying towards you.

“Let's go.” He said as everyone was inside, and you hit the gas quickly, turning the headlights on at the last second possible to avoid being seen.

“Where to?” You asked when you had reached a calm enough highway. Double checking you weren't being followed.

“We were thinking of going to the outskirts,” The girl whose name you didn't know.

“Whatever,” you shrugged.

You didn't really care, and Chishiya seemed to be on board. Your injuries could use a doctor such as himself. So you kept driving.