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me-uglypretty · 4 days

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Two times isn’t a mistake

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: Yelena and Kate fools Peter into a web of lies that eventually creates something more than a mischievous prank. [Loosely based on this incorrect quotes]

Warning: 18+ (G), fake relationships, comedy, pranks, fluff | Word count: 3k

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Innocence is spread alike melted butter on a blazing pan while mischievous were alike shrewd spiders crafting their lines of webs for the mean of capture their preys. However, such forms of concepts don’t entirely fit the idea of a young Spider-Man. There was a part of it there, a part of it that wasn’t there, and he was just him. How else would anyone at all, describe Peter’s vibrant personality, if not the use of innocence? Perhaps, the observable manner of being far too gullible, and naturally trusting of his company, then there’s the hitch of alteration to his personality in the company of his enemy.

By short, Peter Parker is just Peter Parker. A unique kind of a boy with the sudden necessity to preach of never making assumptions of someone. Especially after experiencing the life alternating conversation with Yelena and Kate.

Peter had entirely immersed himself into a clear consciousness to understand his team and know of their life better than before. He promised with the utmost dedication to never assume or ruin any relationships with his oblivion. The later was briefly alerted by the smart spy, and his dear friend, Yelena.

Though, there were numerous times in which his imposed threads of conversation had deflated into a mass of confusion than the expected cheerful expressions. The barriers in eras and newfound phrases seemed less suitable as source of conversations for someone like Steve. It doesn’t hinder by the man’s different period of existence, a sort of similar reaction was met from Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and a clear look of distaste from Tony. His secreted father figure was the biggest disappointment as he was sure that at least that man was more familiar with the current trends.

And with that, the start of an entirely new threads of confusion by the honorary aid of Yelena;

“Hi Mrs Romanoff!”

The habitual greeting from the younger boy, if not evoking such puzzlement, was recognisably polite and sweet. It wasn’t anything different from his usual friendliness. Everyone at the compound loved him, either visibly showing their love or a silent push for his improvement, you didn’t fall far from the family tree that prides on protecting the younger Avengers, alongside the mischief pair of Yelena and Kate. Then, there’s the additional new member, Kamala. They were simply too young to had fallen into the game of life and death, and yet, they bravely stood and assisted in necessary moments.

However, confusion does circle in your mind at the greeting. A sort of continuous sound in your head. You assumed at first, that indulging yourself in a book had taken your attention away and muddled your focus that you had misheard Peter. Maybe—you might had linked his words with those unspoken thoughts jabbing in your mind and compelling your tongue to utter those words, which was partly influenced by the cliché book of two best friends falling in love.

You reminded yourself, nevertheless of how it felt, it was purely a mistake that you rather not question and avoid raising any sort of attention to the topic. It would make matter worse and more embarrassing if someone had heard or worse, the sharp ears of her sister.

Her, this beautiful and so wonderful woman, your best friend, Natasha…

The brash thoughts of her appeared and dissolved into puffs of daydreams. Instead, you offered a kind greeting with a smile that was reflected eagerly on Peter. His cheeks almost seemed flushed with a certain hint of delight at your gesture.

“It’s such a nice day today,” Peter remarked, pointing his forefinger at the extensive window just steps away from where you were seated on the couch. “Well, I’m going to head out and start revising for my exams!” He added, and waved his hands, partly struggling with the books in his hands.

You chuckled with amusement at his antics. “It is a good day out. Have fun, Peter.”

Peter grinned, it seemed as though, the back-and-forth conversation had drawn more confidence for him to approach you than exchanging a sort greeting from across the room. It initiated your hand to clasp one part of your book then close it, knowing that your desired time at peace in the compound’s only library, would meet a certain halt. This was the only room in the entire building that was usually deserted. People alike Tony and Bruce, preferred their books delivered to their space and stayed there.

“Are you planning to head out too, Mrs Romanoff?” he asked first, his hands grasping tightly onto his books as he continued, “It’ll be so nice to read out there!” and his voice edge with a certain excitement. There was a lingering hope in his voice on if you would decide to join him.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the repeated name, and narrowed your gaze on him suspiciously. It occurred to you at that moment, you weren’t imagining his choice of name to address you. It wasn’t a mistake by your immersed attention on a good book or the deception of your thoughts. The sight of his confused expression at your seemingly odd reaction, deflects it as an intentional choice of words on his side. Two times isn’t a mistake anymore, isn’t it?

A conclusion was drawn hastily at his misinterpretation of your relationship with Natasha—which is just a friendship, simply two friends with a close platonic connection—but what could had led to such an assumption?

There was a suppose idea of what caused it, but soon as the figures of such appeared, the shrill voice of Peter had disregarded your thoughts.

“Mrs Romanoff?” he had called out, once then twice, with the same use designated term.

With your best ability of a former spy, you imitated the most natural look as your eyes discreetly surveyed every possible crook of the library. It was ensured after approximately ten seconds that a sneaky and sole name of Romanoff wasn’t hidden out of your sight. An extra pretence of such isn’t injurious, if you could avoid finding yourself replying towards a conversation that wasn’t yours. Perhaps, Natasha was there, stood directly behind you, and Peter was dressing her.

Mrs was a far stretch, but answering to a greeting that wasn’t yours was far worse.

Despite your clear emphasis of examining your surroundings, Natasha wasn’t there. She wasn’t situated right behind you, lips curled into a sure smirk, and her eyes gleaming of such certainty. The imagery picture of her remained imaginary, as the room was still occupied by the same two occupant sharing a minor exchange of words.

An audible sigh resonates through your throat. “Peter,” you spoke softly, hands grasping your book, and with absolute look of gentleness on your face. “I think you’ve….” and those words that pools in your mouth, stilled there, as the intentions of clearing a misunderstanding was overwhelmed by doe eyes gleaming with such innocence.

“Yes, Mrs Romanoff?”

He doesn’t flatter.

Thus, there was two solutions in your mind to solve this unanticipated mistake. Option one; you confront the young boy, explain clearly and kindly of the mistake he had made with such assumptions. Option two; you pretend that his extremely wrong depiction of your relationship with Natasha or his choice of addressing you, had never happened which allowed you the opportunity of not confronting him and being at the receiving end of his gloomy emotions at his mistake.

The decision was made as you waved your hand. “Have fun, Peter,” you concluded, and accepted ignorance for this peculiar matter. Peter doesn’t apprehend the change by the wide smile that surfaced his face as he waved at you, and making a clumsy exit out of the library.

For a moment, a minute or entirely too long for your eyes to remained glued on the door. You pondered of reasons for the incident that seemed to had only affected you. What was the reason suggested your surname was integrated with hers? Most importantly, why would you associate you as significant other with chosen term of Mrs? To stress on the matter, why would he assume that you were Natasha’s spouse?

Confusion declined to worry as you continued, the thoughts that floods your mind screeched an awful sound of the sheer outcome of this mistake. Someone was bound to overhear Peter’s means of addressing you, if not the aftermath of his tearful embarrassment of the truth, then it’s your treasured friendship with Natasha. There was a timid chance of stopping it, and resolving the issue immediately. A step that you had avoided in moment of weakness.

Amidst the near possibility of such outcome that dithered in negative, your mind impelled another flush of emotions that spoke in vibrant words; would it really be such an awful thing, if you were to be known as hers?

The warmth that spread your chest at the question, stirs the emotions from within your heart that roused such thumps and you couldn’t hinder the reaction, even when she was close. It’s an unconscious reaction to her, and only her. You tried shaking your head, eyes shut closed tightly at the voices that dared you to accept your repressed feelings. Those thoughts crafted such visualising images, false moments for if the feelings were declared on both ends, and it was the pre-existing moments that you held onto.

Reality is far better, not some fantasy that kept you awake through the night and only finding peace when she appears, basking in the night’s heavenly glow, and seemingly aware of your restlessness. It’s not right to feel this way for your friend.

What Peter had stirred from deep within your heart, was a common mistake. It wasn’t a reoccurrence thing on assumptions made of your significant other. The numbers of such were down at proud zero. Nevertheless, it was a mistake made in broad daylight, and you continue to view it as that. The easiest route to not disrupt your brain’s buzzing at the sheer feeling of being hers—was ignorance, and you dejectedly accepted it.

If Natasha found out, it wouldn’t end well for your heart or the friendship that mounted as a safe haven to you. Therefore, accepting rejection was better than experiencing it at first hand. The thought of so, to be stood there and listening to those words spill from her sweet mouth, such awful phrases of unrequited feelings, and that assumable feeling of love, it was heavy in your chest.

You rather accept defeat than face your worse opponent; the false idea of her returning the same feelings for you.

In that moment of spiralling, you weren’t aware of the security camera that was focused on you or the audio that picked at every sound from the rustle of paper when you flipped the pages from your book to the deep sigh that settled an ache in your chest. It was clear there, red light beaming, and you didn’t bother for a common machinery that was presence in the compound.

However, that scene of you was effortlessly broadcasted through a tablet which was propped against an unused tissue box. It emits a glow, reflecting on curious faces and one that held a triumph smile.

“This feels like those serials my mother loves watching,” the voice spoke, softening when your hands had concealed the expression on your face. Kamala, the new addition to their plan, who had gracefully joined the duo during her training break.

Kamala had merely made eye contact with Kate, before she was ushered into Yelena’s room. A reason of dullness was mentioned, another falling as blame for her best friend’s absolute focus on refilling the tiny vials on her bracelet. It was common reoccurrence for them to invite the younger over since befriending each other after a prank that pulled the most gruelling of screams from Bruce.

If anyone had questioned them, Bruce’s hair was tinted blue due to Hulk’s DNA adjusting to a different environment. He did visit a planet just weeks prior. It wasn’t caused by the two friends of mischiefs, and Kamala had not encounter anyone holding a suspicious looking shampoo bottle. In her defence, she was slightly buzzing from Carol’s speech on her development.

“I don’t get it yet, but it’s interesting,” Kamala quipped, shoulder bumping with Kate as the other nodded her head, continuing with naming shows she had watched or they should watch together on their next sleepover.

Yelena made a noise, a mix of a sigh then a hum. Her elbows were pressed on her thighs as head was propped on the palm of her hands. “It’s easy. We trick Peter, he believes us, and it makes Mrs Romanoff feel awkward, weird…uh, what’s the word, Kate Bishop?” she titled her head, meeting the eyes of her friend.

“Strange?” Kate offered, shrugging her shoulder as her friend seemed to contemplate the suggestion. “Wait, that’s the doctor,” she mused, eyebrows furrowed, and the sudden change of conversation was pondered by the three friends.

“Look! She’s moving!” Kamala roared, her hands slapping the body closest to her. “Sorry,” she half-heartedly apologised when Kate had groaned, falling as victim over the younger girl’s excitement.

As the security footage continued, the perfect image of your utter disbelief and contemplation on life, boredom slowly slipped into the three heads that sought for a little more entertainment. In matter of seconds, Yelena begun with hurling a single black coloured hairband at Kate. It followed with more, the back and forth between them had gather hairbands on the bed and floor.

While two friends carried on their act of hurling hairbands at the other then cheering at a successful catch or groaning with the thin black rubber seem to had disappear after a hurl, there was still one that sat silently. Kamala hasn’t spoken nor joined in their conversation, a look of confusion on her face, contemplation seemed to swirl in her wide eyes, and hands that grasped at the tablet.

“How long till he realises that…” Kamala paused, glancing at the friends to ensure she was heard. “Like…why would ever assume this was real? Like Y/n being married to Natasha?” she spoke in half guesses, partly afraid of wording her exact thought while want nothing more but to share it.

The pair shrugged in perfect unison, and briefly sharing at odd look at each other, before smiling at their synchronise action. Though, in their little world of absolute chaos and fun, the notable expression on Kamala’s face wasn’t overlooked by Yelena. It begun with the tilt of her head with strains of blonde hair following the motion, sharp eyes narrowed on the younger girl’s expression, and it ends when the later shakes her head, diverting her attention back on the tablet.

Kamala waved her hand absently. “I mean…have you guys seen them?” her mouth parted at the question then closed. She repeated the action several times before her waving her hands warily as if emphasising an explanation without spoken words.

The mere clarification provided not sort of understanding to her words or the unexpected situation that had trapped you into their ploy. In her mind, words spoke of a specific moment she encountered from her first visit of the compound just weeks ago, and the unexpected moments after. The first had left her cheeks warmth, puffing out air in utter embarrassment and words of apology had stumbled out of her mouth.

It wasn’t her intention. It was an accidental encounter. Kamala had plead, hands clasped together with the most innocent look on her face for Carol’s agreement to never speak of that incident again. Despite the teasing look she received for a week straight, or when the people apart of the incident was mentioned.

The incident in question; two spies in a warm embrace, your hand grasping Natasha’s jaw while both her hands were firmly situated on your waist, and the mumbles of words that sounded like secrets shared between two lovers.

Now, back in the once comfortable space shared with her friends, Kamala cursed internally as her eyes shut closed, lips pressed firmly and tongue pushed at the back of her teeth. The incident flashes in her mind, so mortifying that she could feel the heat that roused on her cheeks and neck. It doesn’t aid her case, not when her eyes fluttered open to meet the stern gaze of her friend.

Yelena doesn’t say a word, but her eyes were enough to follow through the implications that lead towards more. It was enough for Kamala too, almost feeling like her heart was ready to spill every little secret that she kept so securely, and not just the story of you and Natasha.

“What’s going on?” Kate asked instead, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks between two pairs in an unwarranted staring match.

Kamala sighed, looking away to only have her gaze stuck on her hands. At that, her expression seems to merge into one of confusion then another that imitates the stern look that seemed fixed on Yelena’s face at that moment, and the later where she’s reminded of how pretending wasn’t in her expertise.

“Peter! Guys, he’s never going to find out the truth…he’s Peter!” Kamala forced those words out her mouth, arms raised wide to exaggerate the reason.

Kate wordlessly nodded her head, a smile spreading on her face as she continued the conversation on their prank. She doesn’t realise the look on her best friend’s face, Yelena appeared unsatisfied, but she pretended, brushing away the slight tense on Kamala’s shoulder with a smile and the can of soft drink that she handed her.

The air carried a joyous sound of young adults conspiring against their own, but it’s fun, it’s nice, and the blonde among them announced again of her best prank to date. While her best friend added on points of where her own idea had improved their plan, and Kamala sat there, grinning happily at the exchange. Almost forgotten were incident that neither one of the two of them knew.

#remembertheyremarried #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader

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