please-destroy

[please-destroy]

Pieces Into Place

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count 5k

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Sophomore year of college was not going to plan and it hadn’t even started yet.

You’d made the choice not to apply for dorms. Instead, you’d made plans with your two best friends from freshman year. The three of you had been inseparable for two semesters, and it made perfect sense to rent an off campus house together.

As the summer went on, it started to feel like you were the only one in the group still excited for the experience of living together. You found yourself sending links for potential houses into the group chat, only to be left on read.

You should have seen it coming. You started to stress as the start of the semester loomed closer. Your anxious messages were still being left on read by both friends. Worry started to flood you on a daily basis, houses were being rented at a rapid pace and any good options were running out.

There were barely two weeks left until the start of the semester, when you finally received a message. Both of your friends were going to move in with their boyfriends instead. They’d met the boys in the last few weeks of your freshman year, and somehow the relationships had lasted through the summer. The four of them could split the rent of a two bed house close to campus. 

They were overly apologetic, promising that you could visit whenever you wanted.

Anxiety spiked immediately and you found yourself crying in your car as you read over the message. You were already late for the last shift of your summer job. You felt profoundly stupid like you should have seen it coming. You also felt lonely, you were only really close to those two girls.

You realised how different the next year was going to be. You tried to think clearly as you calculated how much money you’d managed to save across the summer. You’d only budgeted for one third of a house’s rent. There was no way you could afford a place on your own. 

You spent your lunch break scrolling through Craigslist ads. Your friends messaged you again and their apologies were more heartfelt. You knew they were feeling bad about your lack of response. You didn’t have time to care. 

You tried to filter through the housemate requests. You decided quickly that you didn’t want to share with couples, still feeling bitter about your friends’ decision. Boldly, you decided against sharing with multiple other people in general. You were feeling sick already of being the third in a friendship. You didn’t think you could stomach living with two best friends and feeling even more alone.

There was only one advert that met all your criteria. It was a little far from campus, but the rent was more than reasonable. The offered room was small, but there were trees outside the window and you decided it looked peaceful.

The listing itself was short and to the point. Female sophomore looking for a friendly housemate to help out with the rent.

You sent them an email. You kept it formal, not quite sure how to phrase yourself. By the time you’d finished your final day of work for the summer, you had a reply.

They replied with two words, an address and a name.

Visit Saturday?

Natasha.

You tried not to feel nervous about the girl’s blunt response. You replied and agreed to meet her, heart beating loudly as you typed. You spent the next two nights stressed about the potential serial killer you were likely going to meet on Saturday morning.

You considered asking one of your friends if they would come with you to the meeting. Then, you saw their joint posts on social media about their beautiful newly-rented house and decided you’d rather be murdered.

You pulled up outside the house early on Saturday. Something in your heart settled as you examined the outside from the driver's seat. It was smaller than the house that your friends were renting, but it also looked prettier. There were red leaves falling from the tree in the front yard. The roof looked new, but it matched the older style of the house.

The front door was painted a dark blue and the paint looked fresh. It didn’t look like a student house, it looked like someone’s home. You wanted to live here. Absent-mindedly, you wondered at how authoritative your potential housemate might be to keep a house looking so neat. 

You imagined being pulled into a rigorous cleaning rota and decided it might still be worth it. There was a cute bench swing on the porch. 

You walked up the path to the front door and knocked hesitantly. It opened only a few seconds later.

The redhead stood there with awkward expectancy and you knew that she’d seen your arrival in the car and had been waiting for you to knock.

Two things struck you immediately.

Firstly, this sophomore was in her thirties. Secondly, this sophomore was an Avenger.

Natasha Romanoff shifted slightly from foot to foot as you stared a little too intensely back at her.

‘Hi.’ She addressed you and her hand moved up to give you an uncertain wave.

‘Hi.’ You replied in a nervous exhale.

‘I’m Natasha.’ The woman introduced herself. You bit your lip to stop yourself from explaining that you recognised her. It felt strange to acknowledge it. This woman couldn’t have looked less like a professional superhero.

Her hair was loose and hung down past her shoulders. It was braided at the top and the style framed her face with a particular kind of softness. Her grey hoodie was oversized and her black leggings made her look unassumingly normal.

Your eyes glanced down at her fluffy socks disbelievingly. You tried not to be too obvious.

‘I’m (Y/N), I’m here to see the room.’ You informed her unnecessarily and your hand moved automatically for a handshake. Natasha shook it readily, an amused smirk flickered over her face.

‘Would you like a tour?’ She asked you warmly and you nodded, feeling shy.

You started to take your shoes off at the door and Natasha glanced at you in surprise. 

‘There’s not a rule or anything.’ She assured you.

You shrugged.

‘This place is so nice.’ You answered simply, looking over her shoulder at the clean hardwood floors. Natasha’s smile was small, but it seemed proud.

‘I always travelled around a lot.’ She told you suddenly. ‘I bought this place last year, and I ended up staying through the summer. It's the first place that’s really felt like home.’

You smiled back automatically at her words.

‘So, you’re the landlord?’ You confirmed teasingly, following her through to the kitchen/dining area. The lighting was soft and golden and it made the room feel warmer. 

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck unsurely.

‘I don’t really need a housemate.’ She admitted as you wandered over to the oak dining table accompanied with two matching benches that stood in the centre of the room.

‘It’s just a quiet house.’ Natasha added softly. You looked up from the table and met her gaze. Natasha’s eyes flitted away from you with embarrassment and she gave a small shrug. You wondered how lonely an Avenger could get. Abruptly, you realised it was likely lonelier than most.

‘Are you a sophomore?’ You asked her suddenly, wanting to confirm what you’d read in her advert. Natasha moved through to the living room area, opening a door for you to walk through. 

She nodded briefly. Your eyes caught immediately on the  rows of bookshelves that lined the far wall. There was a laptop sitting open on one armrest of the sofa and a grey blanket folded on the other. 

This didn’t look like a typical student house. You didn’t care, this was so much better.

‘I realised that I’ve only ever learned things for my job.’ Natasha explained from the doorway. ‘But I’ve never learned about anything just because I wanted to. I know I’m a bit older.’ Natasha paused again and she smiled carefully at you.

‘It’s okay if that bothers you.’ She added. ‘I won’t be offended.’ 

You caught the briefest shadow of loneliness cross her face. You felt sympathetic, Natasha seemed lovely and already you wanted to know her more. Still, you weren’t surprised that it had been hard to make friends on campus.

You grinned back at Natasha, trying to make her brighter with your own smile.

‘Doesn’t bother me at all.’ You assured her. You’d had an action figure of Natasha as a kid. It was too embarrassing to mention.

Natasha started asking you some questions then. You found yourself explaining the highlights of your own first year. She asked you follow ups and soon you were telling her about the shock of your friends ditching you unexpectedly. 

Natasha’s focus was flattering as she listened carefully. You tried to hide another wave of shyness as you realised that you’d been explaining your problems to an Avenger. You realised how different your problems probably were.

Natasha showed you the bathroom and gave you a brief look into her spacious and tidy bedroom. Then, she opened the door across from it, revealing your own.

You were right that it was a little small, but it was clear that Natasha had recently renovated it. The paint seemed fresh and the IKEA desk facing the window still had a protective plastic cover wrapped around it.

‘Perfect.’ You said aloud, because it was. Natasha beamed now, leaning against the doorframe, her hands rested easily in the pockets of her hoodie.

As you descended the stairs, Natasha told you about her degree choice. She’d picked an English major and her cheeks flushed slightly when she told you that she’d started the year’s reading list early.

You started asking her about the ones that she’d read so far.

Natasha’s conversation felt hesitant to begin with, but you could sense her desire to talk. You wondered how long the summer alone here without classes must have felt. Natasha’s explanations were detailed in a way that told you she paid attention in class far more than you did. You fought a grin as you realised Natasha Romanoff might be a huge nerd.

When you arrived back at the front door, there was an abrupt pause as Natasha cut herself off. You lingered in the hallway awkwardly for a second before you realised that she was awaiting your verdict on the house.

‘I’d love to live here.’ You told Natasha upfront, feeling suddenly much younger as you stood in front of her.

It felt bizarre when some tension seemed to lift from Natasha’s shoulders at your words. It was inconceivable to have her seek your approval. Natasha Romanoff had stopped aliens from invading New York.

Natasha’s answering smile seemed more relieved than anything else.

‘When do you want to move in?’ She asked easily.

.

The next time you pulled up at the house, car filled with cardboard boxes and assorted items, the weather was perfect. 

Natasha opened the front door while you were walking up the porch steps.

‘Let me help?’ She offered immediately and her eyes shone with something that made you feel like friends already.

You spent the next hour together, bringing heavy boxes up the staircase. Even Natasha had started to sweat with exertion. She seemed excited though, and you shared slightly giddy smiles when you passed each other in the hallway.

When the last box was in your room, Natasha hovered awkwardly by the foot of your bed. Before she could turn to leave, you gave her a reassuring smile.

‘You wanna sit?’ You offered casually, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You’d been crushing on Natasha Romanoff, the superhero, for years. Meeting her in real life had only made that feeling stronger, but you tried to push through it. More than anything, you wanted to be friends with your housemate. ‘You can give me decorating advice?’

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at your suggestion and she moved obediently to sit on the end of your mattress. Her hands rested in her lap and she looked around your room unsurely. You could tell she was trying to think of something to say.

You started up a conversation about her upcoming classes. Natasha told you about a professor she’d been hoping to avoid but had ended up having for the second semester in a row. Any hesitancy left her voice as she found her rhythm. One story led to another and Natasha stood up to help you move clothes into your wardrobe as she told you all about an assignment she’d handed in to that professor before.

You tried not to smile at the realisation that the Black Widow was talking to you like you were friends. It was endearing to hear anyone talk so interestedly about a subject. 

There was something fresh in the way she told her stories and answered your questions. You could tell Natasha had formed opinions about her classes that she’d never shared with anyone before. It made you feel special.

After you’d moved most of your things into the right places, you decided to take a shower. The bathroom was shared and it gave you the opportunity to unpack your items for showering. 

You wandered downstairs an hour later, hair still wet. Natasha was sitting on one end of the sofa, legs curled under her as she stared at her laptop screen. When Natasha saw you, she straightened up. You waited for her to speak. Irrationally, you worried that she was going to tell you a list of house rules that included not showering in the afternoon.

‘I’m making lasagna’.’ Natasha told you suddenly. You nodded, realising now why your mouth was watering. ‘There’ll be extra?’

You felt like you were in a different reality, sitting at the dining table as Natasha presented you with a plate of food. You asked if you could play some music, trying to diffuse the tension. The first song that played was embarrassing and much louder than you’d planned. You hurried to skip it on your phone. Natasha huffed out a soft laugh. You glanced up from your phone and saw the amusement in her eyes. Somehow, you found yourself laughing too.

Soon, you fell into light conversation. Natasha wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before. You knew already that you were in love with her voice. You tried to focus on the lasagna. You were so glad that you’d answered that Craigslist ad, but you could already feel the sting in your heart. Unreciprocated crushes always ended badly.

You insisted on cleaning up the kitchen but Natasha hovered close. She was curious about the music you were playing and started asking you questions about your other interests.  

The soft lighting made her eyes sparkle and you tried to focus on loading the dishwasher.

Natasha’s hand brushed your back as she moved past to start the coffee machine. You startled at her touch, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks. 

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There were three more days until classes began. You’d been worried that Natasha might get sick of you just in those first few days. Instead, the pair of you gravitated towards each other with an unexpected familiarity.

The first morning, Natasha offered to walk with you to the nearest convenience store, so you would know the route. You felt shy at her thoughtfulness. The morning had been perfect, wrapped in scarves, shoulders brushing as the cool wind blew the falling leaves in spirals around you.

You bought the ingredients there to bake cookies, feeling weirdly festive as you embraced the last few days of vacation.

Natasha looked flattered when you offered her one of the cookies. She smiled carefully and told you how much she liked cinnamon. You were pretty sure that you’d fallen in love with her.

The next few days kept their festive theme. You felt like you were sharing a holiday with someone you already knew. Every once in a while, Natasha would take a phone call and leave the room.

She’d glance back at you as if conscious about how strange her behaviour must be. You barely reacted. It was easy to forget that Natasha was an Avenger on hiatus, but it didn’t bother you at all. You did wish that you’d acknowledged it from the start. It felt too late to explain that you knew her other identity, but it was painfully awkward when Natasha was elusive about details from her past.

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Your first class was not as bad as you’d been expecting. You’d resigned yourself to trying to find a new place to sit in the lecture theatre. You softened slightly when you entered the room and saw your two friends waving eagerly from the back row. The situation stung less now that you’d ended up sharing a house with Natasha.

You sat next to them and soon you were talking in hushed voices about your summer vacations. Your friends gushed about their boyfriends and you tried to look mildly interested. It was clear also that they’d spent a lot of time together during the summer break without inviting you.

When they asked about your new living situation, their voices turned sombre, as if they were giving you condolences. They were surprised to hear about a sophomore that they hadn’t met before at any party. When you explained that Natasha was older, their looks became even more sympathetic.

You stopped talking, allowing them to move onto other topics. You felt annoyed that they’d made a snap judgement about Natasha. You tried to focus on the professor, speaking at the front of the class. Your friends were talking about a party they were throwing that night. They invited you enthusiastically and you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d only done so because you were sitting with them.

You agreed quietly, deciding that if nothing else, at least there would be other classmates there too. You had a feeling that you needed to expand your college social circle.

It was lunch right after the class and one friend invited you to sit with them and their boyfriends. The other, shot her a resentful look when she made the suggestion and suddenly you saw just how false they both were. You declined politely, realising with certainty that these people were not your friends. 

There were several places to eat on a street just off campus, and you wandered there without much of a plan. 

Natasha was sitting in the back corner of one café, your eyes caught on her red hair, tied back in a loose ponytail. She was wearing an oversized sweater and her focus was entirely on the book in front of her. You tried to catch her eye but she didn’t look up.

Without thinking, you entered the café. It was slightly more expensive than the chain coffee shop next door and so there were hardly any customers sitting inside. Natasha glanced up at the sound of the door opening and her eyes widened at the sight of you. You waved awkwardly, heading over to the counter to place an order. 

Natasha gave you a surprised smile and you prayed that you weren’t being weird and overstepping by coming in here. The waitress told you to sit down and she’d bring your order over to you. You moved awkwardly over to Natasha’s table, feeling like a school kid as you tried to fight the nervous lump in your throat. You just had to ask to sit with her. 

Natasha glanced up from her book again and looked at you quizzically. She smiled politely, evidently a little confused. You wanted to sink into the floor. You glanced down at the chair sitting opposite her and something clicked in her head. Natasha scrambled to move her items over to her side of the table. 

You sat down, wishing that every social interaction you started wasn’t always this mortifying. Then, Natasha gave you a shy smile.

‘I didn’t think you wanted to sit here.’ She told you embarrassedly. ‘I thought maybe you were leaving to meet friends.’

You rolled your eyes automatically at the word friends and Natasha laughed easily, shutting her book and instead picking up the sandwich that had been lying forgotten on the table. You explained briefly about your interaction with your friends. Before you’d finished, your own sandwich had arrived. You felt almost dizzy with your change of mood. Suddenly, you felt lighter than air.

Between bites, Natasha told you too about her first class. Her memory seemed eidetic as she recalled the contents of the lecture. You marvelled silently at how skilled she must be as a secret agent.

You mumbled about how impressive her memory was, and Natasha tucked her hair back with a hint of self consciousness. You gave her a reassuring smile.

‘I’m really glad I answered that ad.’ You told her randomly and Natasha’s features relaxed as she nodded in silent agreement. 

You both had an hour to kill before your next class. Slowly, Natasha returned to her book, jotting down careful notes as she went.

You listened to music as you tried to neaten up the notes you’d made in your last class. You groaned quietly when you saw the address scribbled in the margin.

Natasha looked up immediately, head tilted.

‘I promised I’d go to this party.’ You explained, head in your hands at the prospect of your plans for this evening.

Natasha looked surprised. 

‘Why don’t you want to go?’ She asked curiously and you explained who was hosting.

‘You can always ditch.’ Natasha suggested hesitantly after a moment. ‘I was only going to watch movies tonight but you’re welcome to join.’

You’d never felt so ready to abandon a social plan. You imagined how perfect the night could be. Then your mind caught on something and you hesitated.

‘I can’t keep relying on these two friends.’ You muttered, feeling embarrassed about your social failings.

‘Three.’ Natasha corrected quietly, taking a drink from her glass of water. ‘You have three friends.’

You felt a rush of gratitude suddenly and your smile was uncontrollably wide. You glanced down at the table trying not to look too silly.

‘Would you come with me to the party?’ You asked suddenly, picking at the side salad on your plate.

Natasha hesitated and immediately you felt mortified with your question. You opened your mouth to try and backtrack. 

Natasha spoke before you had the chance.

‘If you’re sure that you want me there. I’ll go.’ She promised quietly and her voice rasped with her assurance.

‘I do.’ You mumbled shyly, trying to process that Natasha, the beautiful Avenger, was going to a party with you. ‘I really do.’

.

Your classes flew by and, before you knew it, you were back at your house. For the first time, Natasha’s bedroom door was shut during the daytime. You hovered outside it for a moment, too nervous to knock. 

You worried that she’d changed her mind about going to the party with you and she didn’t know how to tell you.

You ate dinner by yourself and started getting ready soon after. You tried not to make any assumptions about Natasha coming with you. You told yourself to get a grip in the mirror as you fixed your hair. 

There was something rhythmic to getting ready. You tried to focus all your stress into the various tasks. Twenty minutes before you were planning on leaving, there was a knock on your door. You smoothed your outfit nervously, sure that Natasha was going to cancel officially, but still wanting to make a good impression.

Your jaw dropped as you opened the door.

Natasha was the hottest person that you’d ever seen, let alone stood a few feet away from. Her green dress hugged her curves. Her hair was intricately braided and your eyes ran over the beautiful patterns of her plaits, before catching on her exposed ear piercings.

Natasha looked tense, balancing in her heels.

‘I haven’t done this in ages.’ She murmured. ‘Do I look okay?’

You huffed out a quiet laugh.

‘Natasha.’ You said, reaching out to take her hand. ‘You were already next level beautiful. But, right now you might cause heart attacks on campus.’

Natasha rolled her eyes and you watched as a rush of confidence buoyed her slightly in her heels. Her mouth stretched into your favourite easy grin.

‘You’re looking pretty fucking hot yourself.’ She told you simply. The genuineness in her voice was unexpectedly attractive and you felt a rush of heat run through you.

You squeezed her hand suddenly.

‘Thanks for doing this.’ You mumbled. Natasha squeezed your hand back. 

‘Thanks for asking.’ She replied and you felt the undeniable want to kiss her. 

Unrequited crushes were the worst and you forced yourself to stand still. Natasha was far more of an adult than you could ever imagine being. You couldn’t fathom how many lives she’d saved. You felt stupid for hoping for more luck than you already had.

‘You’re the best landlord.’ You joked lightly, trying to remind yourself of the boundaries between you. Natasha laughed loudly and her fingers interlaced with yours.

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You were still holding Natasha’s hand when you knocked on the door of your friends’ house. You’d expected a wave of jealousy or bitterness when you saw it in person, instead you found yourself even more grateful for where you’d ended up living.

One of the boyfriends opened the door. Awkwardly, you introduced yourself again and Natasha for the first time. His eyes widened as he took in Natasha’s outfit.

He hurried to welcome you inside. He offered you both a bottle of beer which you accepted, before leading you into the living room. There were various seats arranged in a loose circle around the room. Most of them were already full, you’d arrived purposefully later so that there’d be plenty of other people.

You watched as a sea of faces turned to stare at Natasha. Natasha’s own expression was careful and a little guarded. You recognised the uncertainty in it and squeezed her hand. You knew that for everyone else, her expression could only be adding to her intimidating beauty. 

You caught sight of your two friends in the corner. They looked shocked at your arrival and at the appearance of your housemate. You ignored their pointed stares, instead squeezing onto an old sofa, next to Natasha. Her bare leg was pressed against yours and you felt a strange electricity in the air between you. 

Natasha was only here for you. The awareness of that made you feel even warmer in the crowded room. Your hand touched her thigh. Conversation started up again and the room devolved into smaller social circles.

You found yourself taking steady sips of your beer. Different conversations started to spark up around you. You realised that, despite the presence of many people from your classes, Natasha was the only person you wanted to speak to.

You bumped your knee against hers familiarly and she bumped your shoulder in response. You shared a secret smile. A few people tried to catch Natasha in a conversation. She answered politely, always staying pressed close to you. You watched as their brows furrowed as they tried to decide if she really was the Black Widow at a college party.

Each time they seemed close to asking directly, Natasha would turn back to you, purposefully cutting them out of the conversation. She offered you her half drunk beer when you finished yours and you sat together in quiet conversation as the party grew more boisterous around you. The house had been filling up rapidly, and soon there was barely any space to move.

Finally, the chairs and sofas were cleared to the walls and you found yourselves stood together in the corner of the room as the speakers began to blast loud dance music. 

Natasha’s shoulders tensed and you saw her blink in discomfort at the sound. 

She turned to you, her lips next to your ear when she asked if you wanted to dance. 

You shook your head wordlessly, you didn’t know how to express what Natasha’s attentiveness made you feel.

You could sense how much of an effort this whole night had been for her. You remembered the hours she’d taken getting ready and you felt a sudden certainty in your chest.

Your arm slid around her waist as you led her quietly from the room. Natasha acquiesced immediately. 

You stood together on the cold front porch. Natasha watched the other dancers through the window, the party seemed strangely magical from a distance. You could still feel the thump of the speakers through your feet.

You didn’t move your hand from Natasha’s waist. Instead, you turned to face her, moving both your hands to rest on her hips.

‘I do want to dance with you.’ You admitted shyly. ‘But, just with you.’

Natasha looked at you carefully. You saw her take a deep breath as her hand moved to your face. Her thumb brushed your cheek and you couldn’t look away from her green eyes.

‘You don’t know everything about me.’ Natasha told you seriously. ‘There’s a lot I haven’t told you.’

‘I know who you are.’ You interrupted softly. You tried to memorise the way her body felt under your touch in case this was the only time you would be allowed to hold her. Natasha’s mouth opened in surprise.

‘I know that it’s not as simple as being a superhero.’ You said quietly. ‘I know you’re not just one thing. There are so many pieces that make you up. But, I like you with all of those pieces.’

Natasha’s eyes softened, her brow relaxed as she considered your words.

‘You’re beautiful.’ She told you simply. ‘I want to dance with you too.’

You couldn’t hear the music properly, only feel the beat of it under your feet. Still, you started swaying together. Natasha brought her body closer to yours and her hands rested on your shoulders.

With every sway, you found yourselves drifting closer together. Natasha’s lips made you think of fall. 

You leaned closer. 

Your first kiss was perfect. The night air was cold, but Natasha’s arms were around you. She tasted like cinnamon. You felt like you were flying.

[please-destroy]

Falling Into It

Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

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Sometimes, people get confused between embarrassment and shame.

Embarrassment is a reddened cheeks, eyes to the floor and a faltering laugh kind of feeling. It’s when you walk past Natasha and feel her eyes on you. It’s losing your train of thought whenever she enters the room.

Shame is the permanent lump in your throat. It is the worry that someone else will notice the way you look at her. It is knowing that you might only be welcome in your home because you are pretending.

-

You first visited the Avengers Compound because you had become friends with Wanda. You’d been hesitant to accept her invite, only saying yes when you noticed how nervous she was to ask.

That evening, you’d found yourself sharing takeout with the whole team in the living room, accidentally encroaching on a post-mission celebration. You’d never settled into a group of friends so seamlessly. It was like walking into a world upside down. The boring, everyday details of your life filled the others with fascination.

Steve asked follow up questions to every story you shared. 

Tony told you jokes about the other Avengers, like you were an old friend. 

Wanda looked at you like she was so glad to have brought you.

Clint asked if you had a boyfriend and you avoided the question.

Then Natasha had walked in, delayed by her mission debrief, and it had physically hurt to see someone so beautiful. You tried to push the feeling down. Natasha looked over at you, the obvious newcomer, and her eyes darted meaningfully to your lips. You felt the immediate stain of want for her. She marked your skin before her lips ever touched you. 

-

But, her lips did touch you.

The second time you visited, Natasha found you alone in the hallway. Her eyes met yours with a look that invited challenge. You gulped involuntarily. Then, she moved towards you and you stopped in your tracks. Natasha’s hand touched your chest and you felt compelled to her like a magnet.

Natasha pressed you against the wall. She kissed you so hard that it felt like a tidal wave. A million little particles hitting you at once and somehow you stayed standing. Your hands held the soft curve of her waist and you felt an ache run through you. Her tongue was in your mouth and she tasted like warm things that you couldn’t name. You felt your own moan reach the back of her throat. Lost parts of you pieced themselves back together. You fell into the feeling.

-

When she pulled away, Natasha brushed your cheek with her thumb and you realised you were crying.

‘Don’t worry.’ She promised. ‘We don’t have to tell anyone.’

It was the kindest thing she could have done. But it also hurt the most.

-

Soon, what you were and who you wanted began to bleed through the cracks that Natasha had made in you. You caught moments with her like catching leaves in the wind. Her hand brushed yours when you passed each other in the kitchen. You kissed her in the shadows when she met you by your car. Her hands roamed your body whenever you found yourselves alone.

After two months they offered you a room at the Compound. The gesture meant everything. You’d never fit in easily before and now the superheroes wanted you around.

‘No mixed sleepovers.’ Tony teased and suddenly, you felt like a liar.

-

When you walked to your new room that night, Natasha opened her door and pulled you into hers instead. You fell into the feeling all over again.

You touched her skin, silky with soap suds, in the shower. You let your hands move over her breasts, watched the way she bit her lip and heard the low moan that slipped out too. It felt more right than you ever thought it could.

Then, Natasha’s finger stroked along you and you pressed yourself into her palm. You felt a need build in you, raw and desperate.

When Natasha unwound you with a slow finger curl, you made a sound and a shudder that you couldn’t control. 

-

You crawled into Natasha’s bed after. She held you close and you let her arms keep you for the night. Head on Natasha’s shoulder, you watched her breasts rise with every breath and, all in a rush, you felt that you were whole.

You could see now that there was no stopping it. Still, you didn’t accept it. 

It is impossible to embrace shame. It doesn’t free you like anger can, it just settles like a weight on your heart.

-

Time passed and the Compound became your second home. The team became the people you saw everyday, the people you trusted. Sometimes, they still asked you about boys. Your throat closed up every time. They thought you were shy.

You thought that if you told them, they’d forget all the other parts of you. They’d just see the lump in your throat that you couldn’t get rid of.

You saw all the goodness in Wanda, she made you smile everyday. You kept her secrets and she respected the privacy of your own thoughts. You watched her brighten a little more with every day that passed. She was your best friend.

Natasha kept her distance from you in front of the others.

‘She’s just being Natasha.’ Steve assured you more than once, worried you were taking it to heart.

You knew that.

You knew Natasha. You slept in her bed. 

You felt stuck, dreading change and longing for it too. Each time Natasha made your heart skip a beat, it felt more dangerous.

You were falling into the feeling and you couldn't even say the words to her.

-

You knew the vague answers that you gave the team had slowly turned into a false identity. You told yourself that you were the same person underneath, but the lines felt blurred. The guilt was worse with Wanda. She told you sometimes about trying to come to terms with herself, with the things she couldn’t control and the things she could. You felt so ashamed of your secret. You tried to pour it into your support of her. 

Wanda told you once, sitting in her room together, that you were like her sister. You knew how brave she was to claim you as family. She didn’t truly know you and that was your fault.

-

One night, you sat with several of the team watching a movie. They’d spent a mission using the comms to decide that it was criminal that Steve and Bucky hadn’t ever seen Jurassic Park. When Wanda admitted she hadn’t either, you’d all found yourself roped into the evening. 

Natasha sat on the opposite sofa from you, legs resting across Clint’s lap. You shared a bowl of popcorn with Wanda, who couldn’t keep her eyes off the screen.

The movie was halfway through when Natasha came over. The stillness in the room came from collective surprise; Natasha rarely directly interacted with you. You felt nerves bubble up, at her and at the audience. She took off her sweater and gave it to you.

‘Here.’ Natasha murmured, like no one was watching. ‘You look cold.’

The team shared smiles at the building of bridges between you. You pulled on the sweater. You revelled in its warmth, in the unexpected kindness. You met Natasha's eyes across the room and knew it was meant to be the hug that she couldn’t give you. You inhaled her scent and your mind filled with her. You fell into the feeling.

Wanda stiffened next to you. In the half second where your eyes met, you saw the alarm in hers. You hadn’t been careful with your thoughts and she hadn’t been trying not to listen. Shame burned through you and you ripped yourself away.

‘Too scary.’ You muttered at the Velociraptors on screen and fled to your room.

-

You lay on your bed and let loud music play, keeping everyone out. Only once did you recognise Wanda’s footsteps.

Don’t come in here. You thought desperately. You listened before, so listen now.

Later, you heard Tony and Clint’s muttered conversation in the corridor.

‘It must be about a boy.’

You let yourself cry.

-

Wanda woke you up in the morning. She opened the door and walked to the end of your bed. You only had time to feel a stab of apprehension.

‘I’m sorry for listening.’ She told you directly.

‘I’m so ashamed.’ You said, voice small.

‘There’s nothing wrong with you (Y/N). You’re still my sister.’

You didn’t realise it was what you needed to hear until Wanda said it.

-

Sometimes, you still get that gnawing feeling that you are not quite right. 

Except now, Natasha kisses you as soon as she gets back from her mission. Now, Wanda sends you photos of when you fall asleep with Natasha during a movie. Now, you make one your lock screen. 

-

Wanda texts you a website link for the local Pride event. 

Clint tells you that he’ll paint rainbows on your faces.

‘I’m going to claim the face paint as a work expense.’ He tells you, but he looks over at Natasha like he owes her an apology that he doesn’t know how to say. ‘What do you think Fury’s going to say about that?’ 

Now, Natasha wakes up with a coffee mug that says ‘Love is Love’ and Clint sends her photos of the pair of you too.

.

Natasha holds your hand and kisses you in the sunshine, the crowd around you hums into background noise. Her eyes watch you when you break apart. When you smile at her, she smiles right back.

Maybe, most people aren’t like you, but that’s not so bad.

Most people aren’t like Natasha either.

[please-destroy]

She's a Rainbow

Florence Pugh x Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

.

“I’m getting married.” Florence rushed the words like a confession as you answered the FaceTime.

You took a moment to process, staring at the live feed of her chin as she walked somewhere.

‘Like, in a movie?’ You checked, ignoring the way your heart was plummeting inexplicably. 

‘No.’ Florence told you succinctly. You tried to read her expression. She’d called you in a rush, you knew it wasn’t just for congratulations. You ignored the icy waves of sadness flooding you. The sudden certainty that you were losing your best friend.

You tried to recollect yourself. She needed you right now, even if she couldn’t say it.

‘Where are you going?’ You asked neutrally, not knowing what else to say.

‘Whole Foods.’ Florence answered immediately, blonde ponytail bouncing with each hurried footstep on the sidewalk. You wondered if she drawled the words on purpose, or if lockdown had given her the chance to develop an American accent.

Florence glanced down at your face on her screen. She pouted slightly.

“I need chia seeds.’ She told you seriously and you nodded with equal soberness.

‘Who are you going to marry?’ You asked.

Florence rolled her eyes. 

‘Who do you think?’ She answered sarcastically. There was too much bite in her words and you realised then what was wrong. Stress emanated from her.

‘That’s big.’ You commented, trying to keep your tone casual. Something in Florence’s shoulder’s loosened immediately. 

“It is, right?’ She agreed, chewing on her bottom lip as she crossed the street. 

‘You love him?’ You checked, trying to keep the question as light as you could. You didn’t want it to sound accusing. You never knew for sure if Florence could see your crush on her. Sometimes, you’d see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. You prayed it was your own secret. It was painful enough just for you.

Florence nodded quickly, almost imperceptibly. You watched her hook a mask from ear to ear. 

‘Can I call you back?’ She asked. ‘I feel like an asshole if I’m on the phone at the checkout.’

‘Sure.’ You replied quietly as the call disconnected.

You let your phone fall onto the bedspread, as you covered your face with your hands. 

A dry sob heaved through you suddenly. A tiny piece of hope that you’d had no right holding onto, was finally being killed off.

You took a steadying breath. You stared at the far side of your room. There was a polaroid picture of yourself and Florence perched on the shelf. It was from several years ago. 

You remembered the nervousness in her voice. Resolve filled you. Florence had a lot of friends, but you knew already that you were the first one she’d called. She needed you. You weren’t going to let her down.

Her face popped up on your screen as the call reengaged. You answered it immediately.

Florence was almost impossible to see, the high sun now directly behind her. She held up the bag of chia seeds with a victorious smile. You grinned back automatically. She was perfect. 

‘So-’ She began, the same nervous energy humming through the phone. 

‘Do you want me to come visit?’ You offered suddenly, cutting her off.

Florence’s breath caught. 

‘Yes.’ She told you immediately, her eyes crinkling with an emotional kind of happiness. ‘Yes. I really want that.’

You shared a small smile. Florence’s mask was hanging goofily from one ear.

Her voice was hesitant when she next spoke.

‘It’s not that I’m not happy.’ She told you quietly. ‘It’s just a lot.’

You nodded like you understood.

‘I’ll be there.’ You promised. ‘We’ll figure it out together.’

Florence’s smile was your favourite one.

‘Missed you.’ She added.

‘Missed you too.’ You agreed easily.

After the call disconnected, you packed your bags. Your job had been furloughed and visiting Florence was something you’d been hoping to do for a while.

Ironically, you’d been trying to give her and her boyfriend some space.

After getting tested, you drove over the next day. You texted Florence when you set off.

You pulled into her driveway and found her sitting expectantly on her own doorstep. 

Before you were even fully out of the car, Florence had engulfed you in an excited hug.

‘I hope you don’t greet everyone like this.’ You murmured sarcastically. Florence hit your arm in faux rebuff as she stepped back.

When she looked at you, her eyes were shining with tears.

‘Oh, Flo.’ You murmured, realising that she was crying. Florence didn’t speak again, wrapping her arms firmly around you, her head burying against your shoulder.

‘Missed you.’ She mumbled again. You didn’t answer, only tightening your own hold of her. 

Florence led you into her house. You looked around curiously, this wasn’t somewhere you’d been to before.

There was something wild about the decorating style and it felt familiar to you. You smiled at some of the pictures that caught your eye. 

Florence saw where you were looking and grinned too. 

‘We look so little.’ She determined, hand moving familiarly around your waist. It stung to have her so intimate but you loved that she was comfortable around you.

‘That photo is from last year.’ You answered with a roll of your eyes. 

Florence raised her eyebrows dramatically as she moved past you, throwing herself happily onto the couch.

‘We were so young back then.’ She confirmed with a grin, looking back at you. You didn’t disagree, sitting down next to her.

‘Is it just us?’ You asked unsurely. You felt the impending conversation and knew it was better to be done privately. 

‘Yep.’ Florence popped the ‘p’ sound with false calm. ‘He’s at our other apartment. He thought we’d want some space.’

You nodded again, Florence had once told you he was a bit shy. Still, you realised that at this rate you might not actually meet him until the wedding.

‘How are you?’ You asked directly instead. The question had been burning since the moment you’d arrived.

Florence hesitated beside you. You let your hand rest on top of hers and she exhaled slowly.

‘I’m okay.’ She answered succinctly.

‘Surprised, shocked, scared?’ You offered carefully.

‘Shocked, maybe a bit scared.’ She admitted readily, seeming reassured that you were on the same wavelength. ‘I love him. But, I never thought I’d be married anytime soon.’

You threaded your fingers with hers and squeezed.

Florence’s head rested on your shoulder. 

‘Fuck.’ She murmured to herself.

‘Did you tell him that?’ You asked quietly. 

‘No.’ Florence answered barely above a whisper. ‘I know how much he wants this.’ 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You loved her too much to speak and you hated the lingering fear in her voice

‘I want you to be happy.’ You told her. ‘Whatever that means, I’ll be by your side.’

You felt the warmth of her tears against your shoulder.

‘What if I don’t know what that means.’ She whispered, voice cracking. 

‘Well.’ You paused. ‘I’m still not going anywhere.’

.

There was something subdued about the rest of the weekend that you spent with Florence. In many ways, it felt like you were helping her through a break up. She seemed conflicted and strangely worried. 

She brightened when you asked for stories about their time together as a couple. She told you about trips they’d taken together and how much he made her laugh. You felt like your heart was cracking open, but you kept the same encouraging smile on your face.

It was on the Monday morning, as you sat together eating a cranberry-chia seed scone, that you asked your next big question.

‘Did you talk about dates?’ You asked.

Florence looked confused.

‘For the wedding.’ You clarified, smiling at her puzzled expression.

‘Oh, right.’ She nodded. ‘In two weeks.’ She answered casually, taking another bite of her scone.

You nearly fell out of your chair.

You swore loudly and Florence’s head bobbed as if she’d been expecting your reaction.

‘It’s going to be tiny.’ She informed you. ‘Just the officiant, us, his friend and you.’ 

She added your name with a playfully hopeful smile, telling you just how much she wanted you there.

‘Oh my god.’ You answered, trying to wrap your mind around how soon this would be happening.

‘Our friend’s house has a private beach.’ She continued casually, as if her friend wasn’t certainly a multi-millionaire. ‘We’re going to have the ceremony there.’

‘Outfits.’ You stumbled out stupidly. 

Florence shook her head. ‘I’m just wearing my favourite sundress.’ She informed you readily. ‘Dress casual.’

It occurred to you that Florence was a consistently decisive person, with everything except accepting his proposal.

‘You’re going to look stunning.’ You determined with a bright smile, trying to move past your own shock.

Florence glanced shyly down at the kitchen table. ‘I hope so.’ She mumbled.

‘No bachelorette party then.’ You predicted, pretending to look very sad.

Florence hesitated and you prepared yourself for another plan to be revealed.

“Well.’ She started. ‘I was kind of thinking maybe I could come and stay with you for a few days.’

Your head tilted in confusion.

‘Of course.’ You agreed. ‘But, I don’t think that’s much of a party.’

‘I know.’ Florence elongated the words. ‘But, I don’t want a party.’ She shrugged and you caught her gaze flitting over to the photo of you both smiling, that was stuck to her fridge.

She turned back to you and smiled.

‘I just want to spend some time with you.’ She continued with a sheepish shrug.

Your heart twisted and you weren’t even sure if it was pain or love. Being part of Florence’s life had always been enough. You didn’t want to acknowledge this feeling of impending loss.

‘Drinks, snacks and movies?’ You forced yourself to suggest casually. Florence’s face lit up with private delight.

‘It’s going to be the best.’ She decided, moving forward to kiss your cheek.

Driving home that afternoon, you felt like your chest was heavy and hollow at the same time.

Florence’s parting wave was stuck in your mind. 

You turned up the stereo in your car and tried not to let the reality sink in.

.

When Florence arrived, the morning before her wedding, she was bubbly in a way that you hadn’t expected.

She’d hardly texted for the last week and a half. You’d been cautious to push her, not sure if it was wedding or work pressures.

Florence entered your house with all the familiarity of someone who lived there. It wasn’t surprising, a few years ago she practically had.

She’d walked in with a surprisingly large bag. You realised immediately that it was almost entirely filled with an assortment of supplies. She lined up bottles of wine on the coffee table in front of her, before pulling out a stack of DVDs from her collection.

‘That bag is straight from Mary Poppins.’ You accused teasingly. Florence glanced up and grinned.

‘I’ve been so excited for this.’ She admitted easily, eyes sparkling slightly. ‘I kept repacking.’

You kept your smile steady as you processed your worry. Florence only over prepared when she was nervous. 

‘How’s your week been?’ You asked casually as you brought over two wine glasses. 

Florence groaned loudly and her feet kicked up on the edge of the coffee table. Her head rested back against the sofa dramatically.

You glanced at her unsure if you should be genuinely concerned. 

‘That bad?’ You asked, keeping your voice neutral as you poured the wine.

‘He keeps making plans.’ Florence admitted quietly. Her voice sank the atmosphere like a weighted balloon. She couldn’t hide the fear in it.

‘I’m barely ready for this.’ She continued, her eyes locking with yours. ‘And he’s talking about the future.’

‘Kids?’ You gambled and Florence nodded. 

‘And “planning our careers together”.’ She added with air quotations for his suggestion.

‘That’s a lot.’ You agreed, passing her the glass. Florence looked at her drink for a moment, you knew she was going to down it a half second before she did.

She handed you back the empty glass with an unashamed grin. 

‘Fine.’ You allowed, feeling nostalgic for the slightly wilder Florence of a few years ago. ‘But, you’re not going to your wedding still drunk for the night before.’

Florence rolled her eyes. Still, she sipped more slowly from the refilled glass. Raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement of your request. 

Without even needing to check, you took the Titanic DVD out of its case and set it up on your television.

When you sat back down, Florence snuggled immediately closer. Your hand stretched automatically across her shoulders and you gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

Florence offered you a malteser. When you went to take it, she popped it into her own mouth and grinned cheekily.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another. You could feel her silent chuckle next to you.

‘You’re the worst.’ You complained huffily, meaning the opposite. Florence didn’t stop laughing.

By the time the movie had ended, Florence was sufficiently wine drunk.

As the movie played out, she’d slowly shifted from laughing to a much more somber kind of inebriated.

She lifted her head from your shoulder as she got up clumsily to switch the DVDs.

‘Jesus.’ You muttered as Marley and Me started to play. You glanced at Florence as she settled back beside you.

‘You okay?’ You worried gently. Florence didn’t answer, adjusting to lie down on your sofa, head in your lap.

You understood the silent request for comfort. You combed your fingers through her hair absentmindedly as she focused quietly on the movie.

You wondered if she’d been looking for an excuse to cry. You ached with the thought of Florence being in that kind of pain.

You realised how unsure the future seemed, you just couldn’t imagine her saying lifelong vows tomorrow. 

Florence began to snuffle as she started to cry at the movie.

As the saddest scenes played, her cries were uncontrolled and gasping. 

‘Flo.’ You murmured, trying to bring her back into the room.

She turned in your lap, looking up at you with reddened eyes.

‘Come on.’ You murmured, encouraging her to sit up so that you could wrap her in a comforting hug.

Florence didn’t stop crying for a long time. Eventually, as the tears turned to hiccups, you led her gently back to your bedroom.

There wasn’t a question about her sleeping in the spare room.

She took off her pants and curled next to you in just her t-shirt and underwear. Her chest still moved rapidly with the after effects of her uncontrolled crying.

Her fingers curled tightly at the hem of your own t-shirt. You kissed her hair soothingly.

‘You’ll feel better tomorrow.’ You promised, not knowing if it would be true.

Florence’s breaths came more evenly and, sooner than you expected, you knew she’d fallen asleep. You stared up at the ceiling for a long while, trying to piece everything together.

.

The next morning went better than expected. Florence made it through several glasses of water and managed to reduce any hangover to just a headache. You were planning to leave at 2pm and had the address already plugged into your GPS.

You checked in with Florence regularly, gaining a thumbs up each time.

You felt an overwhelming rush of attraction when you saw her in the rainbow sundress that made her impossibly brighter.

Florence blushed at your reaction, and you saw her pleased smile.

‘Excited?’ You asked, regretting your question when a wave of tension immediately straightened her spine.

‘Nervous.’ She breathed, smoothing the dress unnecessarily. You both checked the time. 

You needed to leave now. Florence blinked away a brief look of panic before following you to the car.

Another benefit to such a low key wedding was the lack of press awareness. Your nondescript car would attract no attention today.

You let quiet music play on the stereo and Florence breathed steadily in the passenger’s seat, her eyes closed.

She exuded nerves and you glanced at her worriedly as you followed the directions to the house with the private beach.

When you pulled up in the driveway of a very expensive looking mansion. Florence’s eyes opened and her attention focused entirely on you. It was like your presence was the only thing keeping her breathing.

‘You ready?’ You asked quietly. You still had ten minutes until you were expected.

There was a half second, a hesitation where you knew that Florence was going to lie. 

She blinked slowly, her focus never leaving you.

‘What if the thing that makes me happy, doesn’t make you happy?’ She asked suddenly, voice abrupt.

You startled at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

‘You have to do it anyway.’ You answered with certainty. 

Florence took a deep breath.

‘I’m in love with you.’ She told you straightforwardly and your heart stuttered. ‘I know you might not feel the same. But I can’t go in there and not say this first.’

Your mouth dropped, time shuddered to a stand still.

Florence covered her face with her hands briefly, breaking her eye contact.

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, but there was a quiet resolve underlying her apology. ‘I had to tell you.’

Silence lingered between you as your brain tried to process the impossible.

‘Don’t apologise.’ You told her at last, voice hoarse. Florence was perfect. This had to be a dream. 

‘I’ve been in love with you for years.’ You admitted freely, tears beginning to run down your cheeks.

A bright smile cracked over Florence’s face like a sunrise in the morning.

‘Wow.’ She murmured. ‘We should have talked about this sooner.’ 

You laughed unexpectedly in agreement. 

Suddenly, Florence’s eyes widened.

‘I have to call off a wedding.’ She realised calmly, and you revelled in the easy determination that she approached even the most daunting task. 

She cracked the car door and you moved to do the same.

‘Wait here?’ She asked you, hand reaching out to stop you leaving the car too.

‘I need a getaway driver.’ She told you with a small smile.

You nodded, feeling high on relief and joy at the same time.

Florence walked into the mansion with her head held high.

Ten minutes later, she exited the same door. 

Her head was still high, but there were tears tracks on her cheeks.

She reentered the car just as you started the engine.

You backed out of the driveway, as Florence covered her face with her hands again.

You glanced over to her as soon as you were back on the road to your house.

Florence looked over at you and, despite the tear tracks, you saw your favourite smile of hers stretching across her face.

‘I can’t help feeling so happy.’ She told you, a little dazedly. 

You smiled so hard you thought your heart might burst.

[please-destroy]

You'd Like That

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Word Count: 1K

.

You’d thrown her off. You could tell. 

Lizzie’s smile was dimmed. She leaned her chin against her hand, watching you from the other side of the small party. Her forehead was furrowed, her finger touched her lower lip without her realising.

You looked down at your drink. It was all your fault.

.

You’d been close friends for years. For a long time, you’d floated around in the same social circles, never really saying more than a few words to each other. 

Then, there’d been a slightly too drunk get together organised by a mutual friend. 

That evening quickly became something unexpectedly perfect. You’d spent hours talking with her in someone else’s backyard, wrapped in old blankets that you’d found when she’d started shivering. You talked for hours about every subject, laughing more than you’d ever laughed with someone before. 

When you left that party in the early morning, you’d wondered if this was one of those magic nights. Or, if Lizzie might really become a friend. 

She called you the next afternoon and answered your question with her nonchalant greeting and conversation.

Her friendship quickly became the best part of your life. 

Life doesn’t follow the routes you expect. This was one of the good unexpected turns. 

Lizzie was not lowkey. That was a common misconception. 

You remembered the first time she called you from a Whole Foods. It had taken a ten minute ramble about grocery choices until you realised the subtle anxiety in her voice. The fear of making a mistake, the many ways it could manifest. 

She apologised after the call. A line of texts, where she made fun of herself. 

The world shifted on its axis and you saw Lizzie clearly then. 

‘Call me whenever, I’ll never mind.’ You’d replied simply.

Lizzie didn’t trust easily. That was true.

It’s how you knew you were special. It was so easy to find a rhythm with her, to live on the same wavelength.

Every year for her birthday, you spent the day together. Every year, you told her that you loved her. That she’d made your year better.

Lizzie would smile, roll her eyes and wrap you in a hug. 

You knew that you were special to her but you’d been careful not to jump to conclusions. 

Until, of course, you’d said something stupid. Something honest. And Lizzie had left. 

.

Now, at the party, as you refilled your drink and tried to ignore the loud music, you realised that you’d likely ruined everything.

The thought settled on your shoulders like a heavy weight, a ready nausea filling your throat. You left your untouched drink on a side-table. You craned your neck, scouting for Lizzie in the crowd.

You saw her dim silhouette on the small balcony and headed over. 

Her pale face turned towards you as you slid open the french doors. Lizzie was sitting on an ancient wicker chair that looked close to collapse. It creaked as she moved to face you.

‘We should talk.’ You suggested softly.

Lizzie’s long hair shifted over her shoulder as she nodded in agreement. Her fingers trailed the edge of the balcony railing. 

‘Did you always like me like that?’ She asked abruptly. ‘Is that why you started talking to me?’

Her cool tone made you nervous. You wondered if this was pointless, if everything had already unravelled.

‘No.’ You answered slowly, careful in your honesty. ‘Just a little bit more every day.’

Lizzie’s expression faltered. You could tell it wasn’t what she’d expected. She crossed her legs and you couldn’t help but notice her bare skin.

‘Since I got bigger movie deals?’ Lizzie asked, accusation barely hidden. 

A flash of hurt ran through you.

‘No.’ You tried to keep a level tone. ‘Since the day you called me at Whole Foods.’

Lizzie shook her head.

‘That doesn’t make sense.’ She said quietly.

You shrugged, staying silent as sadness rolled through you. This felt pointless, you’d already lost her. You’d already made the confession that you couldn’t undo. A wave of grief was burgeoning. You wondered if you’d drown. 

You slipped your arms out of your sweater and pulled it over your head.

‘Every year, I spend Valentine’s Day excited that your birthday is only two days away.’ You told her quietly. You handed her your sweater and nodded down to her bare legs, hoping she’d use it as a blanket. She always got cold on nights like these.

‘I’m sorry I fucked it up.’ You told her softly. Lizzie’s eyes reflected distant stars back at you. 

You walked back into the party with the distinct feeling that you were no longer yourself.

.

With no alcohol in you, you decided to leave and walk the few streets back to your place. The cold air countered the twisted grief burning up your insides.

You walked with a mind full of Lizzie. 

Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. You couldn’t care less, not anymore. 

You thought about her birthday in three days. You tried not to think about her smile, about how quickly a person can become a memory. You hoped Lizzie wouldn’t be alone for it.

.

You turned the corner of your street. 

Lizzie was stepping out of an Uber at your front door. She was wearing your sweater, her hair was caught beneath it. She straightened at the sight of you, raising her hand in a tentative wave.

You walked closer, heart in your mouth. Unfiltered surprise was running through your veins.

‘Why Whole Foods?’ Lizzie asked when you were in hearing distance. ‘Why did it start then?’

You laughed suddenly, at the most obvious unanswerable question in the world.

‘Why not?’ You countered. ‘It had to happen some time.’

Lizzie watched you like you were something brand new. A silence fell between you before she spoke again.

‘Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.’ Lizzie told you seriously, fingers playing with the sleeves of your sweater. ‘We have nothing planned, and I actually had other plans. Not with anyone, not anything like that. But, I’d still have to cancel them. And I had errands to run in the afternoon.’

You recognised the familiar tone of Lizzie’s anxiety. You realised suddenly that she was just scared. 

You took her hand, twining your fingers and giving a quick squeeze.

‘We could just get groceries.’ You suggested with a soft smile.

Lizzie let out a shaky breath, her lips quirked upwards. She squeezed your hand back.

‘Yeah.’ She teased. ‘You’d like that.’

[please-destroy]

Miscommunication and the Heartbreak Spy

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

.

The world is complicated enough. You always liked to know the truth of things. It gave you something solid beneath your feet. A path to walk on, a place to be steady.

Natasha preferred the complicated world. 

Sometimes the truth is only what you choose to believe. 

.

The first time you met her, Natasha told you a lie. 

It was the early hours of the morning. The party had stretched longer than you’d expected. You’d been hired by Pepper Potts nearly a year before. You’d never planned your career trajectory, but even if you had, attending a party filled with superheroes was beyond any expectation.

You made small talk for most of the night, gravitating to polite conversations that included other employees from Stark Industries. Then, you’d been called into a heated discussion. Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes debating the future of nanotech. 

You tried gamely to keep up, contributing your half assed opinions, relieved each time noone openly laughed at you. Occasionally, you even helped to sway the argument one way or another. Minutes bled together as you lost yourself in the sprawling debate. Your attention was only broken by Pepper’s hand on your shoulder. She offered you another glass of champagne. You took it gratefully, giving her a quick smile. 

You scanned the rest of the room and your heart jumped suddenly. You were the last Stark Industries’ employee left. The party was down to less than twenty people, congregating slowly closer together. 

You heard the booming laugh of Thor as he slapped Captain America jovially on the back. Elation and nerves warred inside you. This was every civilian’s dream. To truly see behind the superhero curtain. 

Still, you felt overwhelmed. 

You tipped the flute of champagne back, draining the liquid and muttering a quick goodbye to Pepper. You headed towards the nearest bathroom on the floor below. 

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, letting the reflected lights dazzle you. You splashed cold water on your face and counted to ten. 

You could do this. 

You took a deep breath and returned to the party. 

Pepper raised her hand in greeting when she saw you approaching. 

Maybe you were distracted, returning her wave. 

Or maybe, Natasha came out of nowhere. 

Her shoulder bumped your chest, pulling you up short. 

You blinked in surprise as you took her in. The black pantsuit had a plunging neckline. Her heels were notably high. 

Her long hair was a darker red than you’d seen in news reports. Her lips were a brighter shade of scarlet, drawing your attention.

She was touching your shoulders. 

‘I’m sorry.’ She murmured, voice melodic. ‘I’m running late.’

‘That’s okay.’ You whispered, feeling dazed already. 

Natasha smiled and you caught the genuine interest flickering behind her eyes.

‘What brings you here?’ She asked in the same smooth voice. Her fingers brushed the fabric covering your shoulder. 

‘Lucky accident.’ You said dryly, glancing down at her fingers. 

The glint in Natasha’s eye was almost predatory now. 

‘I’m Natalie.’ She introduced herself and you felt her hand slip into yours. 

The fake name settled in the space between you. The spell broke quickly. 

You snorted before you could help yourself.

‘Uh huh.’ You agreed sarcastically. ‘Sure you are.’

Natasha’s eyebrow raised in surprise. She stared at you with a steadiness that sent shivers down your spine. Your heart began to rabbit in your chest.

You startled when Pepper’s hand touched your shoulder again. 

‘Nice try.’ She told Natasha, rolling her eyes with exasperation. ‘Y/N has top level clearance, she already knows your real name.’

Natasha switched her focus to Pepper, a smile curling on her lips. You missed her attention immediately. The feeling sat like hunger inside you. 

You walked a few steps behind them as you headed back to the others. When Dr Banner offered you a drink, you took another flute of champagne readily.

The rest of the evening swung between moments of clarity and the blurred sensation of too much alcohol.

Thor regaled the group with different stories of his past. He stood tall, taking up the centre of the room and swinging his hammer back and forth as he demonstrated a battle’s key moments. 

At first, you were enraptured by the presence of so many impressive people, the world they lived in and the stories they had to tell.  Then, all at once, you couldn’t care less.

You knew the moment Natasha’s attention returned to you. You felt the prickle on your skin. The strange hunger inside you grew stronger. 

You felt her eyes roam across your face, lingering on your own exposed neckline. You felt an answering heat crawl up your neck. You weren’t sure if she could see your pulse beating, dangerously quick. 

You swallowed nervously before you turned to face her. 

Natasha met your stare willingly. Her finger tapped against her knee. Her smile gleamed with promises. 

.

The party ended long after the sun had risen. 

You stood with too much confidence in the looby. You swayed slightly on the balls of your feet, waiting for the car that had been called for you. 

Despite the haze of alcohol, you noticed Natasha leaning against the edge of the large staircase. You tried not to fixate on her bare arms, folded in front of her. You felt yourself staring anyway.

Stupid confidence propelled you forward, like a victim of some Newtonian law.

Standing in front of her, you cleared your throat grandly.

‘It was nice to meet you Natalie.’ You smiled broadly at your own clever joke. 

Natasha smirked back automatically. Her gaze trailed up and down you again, making you feel suddenly self aware. You weren’t sure what she could see in you. You felt your cheeks warming and you dropped your gaze to the floor. The silence lasted forever in your drunken mind.

‘It was nicer meeting you.’ Natasha told you at last, voice soft. 

The words made you float with their sincerity. You couldn’t stop smiling as Pepper helped you into the waiting car.

.

Natasha never did explain how she got your phone number. 

That wasn’t the shocking part though. 

The random phone call in the afternoon. The soft timbre of her voice. The careful indirect question. (Are you free tonight?) The way her breath caught at your answer.

Going on a date with Natasha Romanoff was beyond unlikely.

Natasha Romanoff being the one to ask you; unthinkable. 

.

The moment you arrived at the bar, you tried to think back through the phone call. If you’d made a stupid assumption or if Natasha had been purposefully unclear.

You’d shown up five minutes early. Natasha was already there. 

So was Clint Barton.

You hesitated in the middle of the busy room, watching his hand pat her shoulder absentmindedly. It was friendly affection but it still threw you off. 

Not a date. Not a date. 

Your brain tried to recalibrate itself quickly. Tried to understand the root of the miscommunication. It had definitely sounded like a date when she’d asked.

Natasha caught your eye, waving you over casually. You wondered if you were imagining the nervousness in her smile. You tried to keep your own expression neutral. Clint seemed unphased by your arrival but you were clearly an unexpected addition to his night. His smile was polite enough. 

You joined the conversation slowly, feeling immediately like a third wheel. 

In the lull of listening to Clint continue his story, you tried to decide if you should just leave immediately. 

Your gut feeling of discomfort was hard to ignore. You started trying to think up excuses to leave. 

Natasha didn’t make it easy. Whilst Clint spoke, she gave you her full attention. You felt a thousand unspoken requests in her gaze.

You knew she wanted you to stay. 

Natasha sought out your hand underneath the table. Her fingers trailed over your knuckles lightly. Her stare turned purposeful. 

Your mouth went dry. You glanced at Clint, continuing loudly with his story. Natasha’s caught your look and you caught the hint of embarrassment before she blinked it away.

You knew for sure then that she had asked you on a date, you weren’t wrong. You wondered if she’d gotten scared.

You sipped your drink, accepting the strange situation more easily. You wanted to see where this would go.

Another man entered the bar, greeting Clint loudly. They laughed, hugged and joked loudly. Slowly, Clint moved away from you both, giving a brief nod of his head before heading to a rowdier table. 

In the quiet that followed, Natasha didn’t speak up. She didn’t look at you either. Instead, she slid her drink carefully across the table top, until it clinked against yours. 

She didn’t have to speak for you to understand. 

She liked you. 

Slowly, you shifted your drink too, pushing it back against hers and letting it clink again.

You liked her too.

.

Words flowed easily between you for the rest of the night. 

Natasha spoke in half truths but you found you didn’t mind.

You asked questions and hoped that you might be able to see the hidden pieces of who she really was in her answers.

She was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. She was ethereal under the mellow bar lights. 

Natasha laughed loudly at a throwaway joke of yours. She threw her head back and you watched the sparkling in her eyes.

You felt on top of the world. 

.

Perhaps, that’s why you had the nerve to press her for the truth. 

You asked brazenly if a certain rumour had any merit. It was a rumour strong enough to spread all the way from Shield to the hallways of Stark Industries.

You recounted an unlikely story about a redheaded spy who had infiltrated a criminal organisation, betrayed the men in charge, and somehow still received occasional love letters from the few who’d escaped justice.

Natasha’s eyes turned icy as you relayed the supposed story. A new wariness settled into her demeanour. You didn’t realise how much she’d relaxed until you saw her tense up again.

‘You can’t believe everything you hear.’ She commented succinctly, taking a sip of her drink.

You rolled your eyes before you could help it. 

‘No kidding, Natalie.’ 

Natasha snorted unexpectedly. Her shoulders curled forward slightly as a quiet laugh escaped her. The sound was clumsy and endearing. 

You thought of her loud perfect laugh earlier and smiled with satisfaction at getting to see the real thing.

.

An hour later and you were standing together in the cold night air. 

Despite the weird half-date with mixed signals, Natasha had insisted on walking you home. 

Her presence beside you had felt perfect and every smile made you feel warm. 

Now, you stood awkwardly at the foot of the stairs leading up to your front door. 

You noticed the way that Natasha’s stare caught itself on your lips. You let your own gaze wander from her reddened cheeks to her mouth.  

The hunger in your stomach curled uncomfortably, abruptly hotter than ever. 

Instinctively you reached out, touching her wrist gently. You wondered if her pulse was fluttering like yours. 

‘I’ve never kissed a girl before.’ Natasha murmured into the cold night.

It was a lie. A barefaced lie. You felt it in your soul.

Her thumb reached up, trailing over your lips and then your cheek. Your skin tingled as she brushed it softly. Her touch was full of quiet wonder. It made her words almost believable. 

The hunger roared inside you. 

You kissed her fiercely, unable to think of anything else.

Maybe Natasha had the same hunger inside her too. 

You understood her better in that moment than you’d ever understood anyone.

Natasha’s teeth grazed your lower lip, insisting on taking back control. Now her hand tugged your face impossibly closer. Her tongue entered your mouth. 

You breathed her in.

Forgetting the night, the cold air and the lies. 

When Natasha asked to see you again. It was too easy to say yes.

.

There is nothing worse than radio silence from a girl that you like. 

This is a lie.

(There is nothing worse than radio silence from a girl that you like, who has also stuck her tongue down your throat.)

After three weeks, you admitted defeat. 

It was a Tuesday afternoon. You caught up briefly with Pepper in a Stark Tower elevator. She was in a good mood, telling you about the great cafe she’d just been to, having lunch with Natasha.

You knew for certain then.

There was no mission keeping Natasha away, no other commitment. 

You tried to respect her choice, even though it stung. 

You allowed yourself to sink into a lousy mood for another week. 

It would have lasted longer, but then your doorbell rang at 1am. 

.

Through the opaque glass, you saw a figure standing on your doorstep. You could make out the dark red hair. It was embarrassing how quickly you opened the door.

Natasha seemed smaller than you remembered, wrapped in a large dark overcoat. Her skin seemed paler, her green eyes stood out. 

You felt frustrated at your immediate concern for her. The worry that you couldn’t help having now that you cared about her. 

You tried to remember the radio silence of the last four weeks.

For once, your stare was steadier than hers.

.

‘I didn’t mean to come here.’ Natasha whispered after a moment, hands in pockets.

You swallowed down the urge to call her a liar. It didn’t matter. 

You both knew it didn’t matter. 

You’d known since you opened the door. 

You took Natasha’s warm hand and led her inside. 

Her large coat slid haphazardly off one shoulder. It was bare. You kissed the exposed skin, ready for the same hunger to flare inside you. The burning ache never seemed to leave fully. You’d just been pretending it was gone. 

Natasha’s hands were shaking as they tugged at your shirt. The tremble was subtle but you felt it against your skin.

That’s why you let her lie. 

When her teeth raked across your neck, you moaned willingly. 

When she palmed your breasts, you whined.

By the time you were stripped completely, Natasha’s attention had turned almost feral. 

You thought back to meeting her at the party. You felt the same heat flush underneath your skin, between your legs. 

Natasha stripped naked with practised efficiency. 

‘Shower.’ She murmured, voice lilting with a quiet return to control. 

She was beautiful. You led her obediently to the bathroom, mind lost in anticipation.

Under the hot water, the world stopped. 

You licked the valley between her breasts and let the soap burn the back of your throat. 

Natasha’s fingers raked along your scalp. Her touch scalded like the steaming water.

She pushed you down between her legs.

Your knees ached when you kneeled on the hard tiles, but all you could think about was the heat of her against your tongue.

.

Later you lay in the bed with her, limbs tangled together with a sticky sweatiness that felt addictive. 

You cupped her breast, massaging it slowly and revelling in the privilege. Natasha’s eyes were closed. 

‘I don’t need everything to be true.’ You told her softly, your heart emptying itself into the silence. ‘I just want to know you’ll be here when I wake up.’

Natasha’s eyes didn’t open at your words. You held your breath, waiting.

You watched the way her brows furrowed for a moment.

Then, as if with great deliberation, Natasha reached out to touch your hand, pulling it over to her lips. She kissed your skin tenderly. 

You couldn’t help your small smile. Natasha was most honest when she didn’t speak.

Or maybe, she wasn’t.

(You woke up alone.)

.

Unforgivable is a bigger word than people realise.

It was not one you used easily.

The worst part was feeling tricked. You wondered how you’d misread her so completely. How you kept making the same mistake. Memories of Natasha always seemed to war with reality. The look in her eyes when she stood on your doorstep, the taste of her mixing with the cold night air. The empty bed, the silent phone. 

It was two more months of radio silence before you confessed anything to Pepper. 

You heard the words pour from your mouth before you could think any of them through. The story felt ridiculous when you repeated it. The unavailable spy who’d lied to you and then disappeared. 

If it was ridiculous, Pepper would never let it show. She gave you a comforting hug when you finished speaking. Her mouth twisted in a sympathetic expression as she searched for the right words. 

At last, Pepper shrugged sadly. 

‘Natasha lies.’ She stated simply. You nodded silently, a lump in your throat. You’d known that from the beginning.

It took you another three months to stop thinking about her. The strange wound of Natasha finally began to scab over. You readied yourself for a lingering scar.

Every once in a while, you read her name in a classified report. You hated that the hunger could still burn through you. You pretended not to feel it. 

.

Sometimes, stories end just how they started. 

.

The next time you saw Natasha, she told you a lie.

Pepper had another party. This time, it was for her birthday. It was meant to be a smaller affair than any of the corporate events you’d attended before. 

Just close friends, she’d told you over the phone.

You were genuinely flattered at the implication. Pepper had become one of the closest people in your life, but you had not been so presumptuous to assume the same was true for her.

About a week beforehand, you realised that Natasha would likely be there too. Pepper had lunch with her at least every few weeks. With their schedules, that made them practically family. 

The realisation nearly levelled you. You panicked privately for days, considering your options.

The only reason you walked into the party that night was because of Pepper. You gripped a small wrapped gift for her, hoping it would make you brave. Your stomach was lined with dread.

You felt Natasha’s eyes on you from the moment you arrived. Your skin prickled with the attention.

You did your best to ignore her. You stayed determinedly in whatever social circle didn’t include her.

The first time you broke your resolve, you glanced over and watched her sipping a drink with Pepper. Your eyes ran over her beautiful green dress. It matched her eyes. You stared at the fabric slit that ran all the way up her thigh. Natasha laughed and your eyes drifted upwards, noticing the new, lighter shade of her now longer red hair. 

Two drinks in and you risked another look in her direction. This time, Natasha was already staring back at you. Your heart froze in your chest. She glanced away immediately. Frustration bubbled inside you.

Another woman approached Natasha, drawing her attention completely. You watched a stranger touch Natasha’s arm soothingly. 

The hunger roared inside you. You lifted your glass to your lips and downed it quickly. Tony laughed and said something about your readiness to get drunk.

You imagined Natasha’s attention returning to you at his loud comment. You didn’t check to see if you were right.

Some time after that, things got fuzzy. A tipsy feeling floated your way. 

You were not in the right mindset to be drunk. You started to worry as the fuzziness got stronger.

This was not the time or the place to be emotional. Not the here, not with so many people around.

Inevitably, you found yourself crying in a bathroom stall, palms flat against the locked cubicle door as you struggled to take calming breaths.

She made you feel so stupid. 

You tried to focus on counting to ten.

The door to the bathroom opened and someone walked cautiously inside. You heard them breathing quietly as they stood by the sinks. You knew it was Natasha before she tentatively called your name. 

You started crying harder, hating the sound of your own tears. 

You listened to the bathroom door shutting behind her when she left. 

Rejection killed the hunger, faster than anything else could. 

When you left the bathroom stall, you stood at the sink and splashed cold water on your face. Natasha was all that you could think about. You had to stop.

You needed to get out of here.

You sent a quick goodbye text to Pepper and walked straight out of the party. You ordered a taxi from the curb.

Your phone vibrated with a message before you were home.

Unknown Number:

I’m sorry. I’m not worth this. 

You pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the taxi window. Tears slid down your cheeks.

Natasha didn’t realise she was lying. 

You sat in bed an hour later, staring at your phone and retyping answer after answer. 

At last, you wrote the truth and turned your phone face down on your nightstand. Your eyes were closed before the message had even been delivered.

I know what your real laugh sounds like. 

.

Your doorbell rang in the night. 

Or more accurately, in the early morning. 

It was ridiculous to expect Natasha to be standing there, but in truth, you did.

You were right. 

Natasha looked unsure of herself, standing exactly where she’d been once before.

Her skin was almost translucent in its paleness. Her eyes were rimmed red. Her fingers played nervously with her overcoat’s fastening. She still smelled like the party that you’d last seen her at.

You stared at her blearily, still blinking away the shock of being so suddenly awoken. 

The bright red beginning of the dawn behind her was almost blinding.

Natasha spoke hurriedly as if she might run out of time. 

As if she’d practised these words before she found herself standing here.

‘I am made of lies.’ Natasha said simply, voice shaking from more than the cold. ‘You’re right. About my laugh.’

‘I don’t even think about it.’ She admitted. ´I haven’t. Not for a long time.’

Her eyes caught yours. Despite everything, her gaze was steady. 

‘Not until you.’ Natasha said honestly. 

You took a shaky breath. You didn’t know what to say. How to explain the burning hunger whenever you looked at her. The way she set your chest alight.

At a loss, you rolled your eyes instead.

‘Nothing’s been the same since I met you, Natalie.’ You teased, voice hoarse from sleep.

Natasha’s smile glowed like hot embers. It was brighter than the burning sun emerging behind her.

‘Can I take you on another date?’ She asked you then, words full of purposeful clarity.

.

It wasn’t hunger. That feeling inside you. It was the start of something else.

Natasha got to the truth of it. A few months later.

Her hand slid into yours. Her head found your shoulder.

‘I think I love you.’

[please-destroy]

Maroon

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

.

It is hard to begin this when it has already ended.

You met her at a dinner party. Your date ignored you for most of the evening. So did her husband.

It should have been miserable, but it was perfect.

Scarlett was messy. The good kind.

You stayed by the open window of the Parisian apartment, ignoring the chatter behind you and the sunset ahead of you. Scarlett chain-smoked and you watched the white entrails of a bad habit float away.

‘Don’t worry, I’m quitting.’ She assured you, when she lit the first one.

‘I don’t care.’ You answered plainly, watching her black dress shimmer.

Scarlett’s head tilted and her lips drew back into a smile.

You stole a bottle of champagne from a waiter, passing it between you like teenagers. Scarlett’s words were bitter sometimes. She didn’t want to be here, in this country, in this marriage.

You could tell that she liked you. Your strange indecision between empathy and nihilism. You rolled your eyes at her pettier problems. You made her laugh. Her hand touched your arm and her fingers lingered.

Your gazes kept snagging together. Her eyes were beautiful. You could see the softness that she’d locked away.

You left the party first, dragged away by the useless date that you never planned to see again. Scarlett took an eyeliner from her bag, scrawling her phone number along your forearm.

She held the eyeliner cap precariously between her teeth. Her glittering smile promised everything.

You could see the cliff edge, it made you want to drive faster.

.

You called her the next day.

She answered abruptly in a hoarse voice, cursing about hangovers. You suggested getting coffee someplace on the streets of Paris.

‘How about coffee here?’ She invited you casually.

‘Too rough to be seen in public?’ You quipped, already reaching for your keys.

‘The paparazzi don’t deserve this picture.’

She was bored and lonely. What’s new. Who isn’t.

Except, Scarlett wasn’t anyone else.

(It’s lazy, it’s cliche)

But, she was special.

Your eyes lingered on her creased white t-shirt when she answered the door. Her blonde hair hung loose and wavy from last night’s updo. Scarlett yawned as she led you inside.

She seemed raw and it made your stomach flip.

She paced her kitchen barefoot, waiting for the coffee machine to pour out. Your conversation picked up the patterns of the night before.

Scarlett talked to you about a film project that she’d been offered, that she’d turned down to stay here in Paris.

‘To be here with him.’

You leaned against her pristine oak kitchen table, worth more than your life. You nodded absentmindedly. You tried not to fixate on avoiding a coffee stain.

Scarlett gesticulated as she continued to talk. She was growing more animated. You wondered if your silent attention reassured her. You wondered how anyone could ignore her.

Her words flowed like a stream of consciousness. Her eyes locked with yours, and your pulse stuttered with the burning intimacy of impending confession.

Scarlett’s mouth stumbled over a truth she hadn’t planned to say.

‘I’m scared to be alone.’

You watched Scarlett process her own words.

Wide eyed. Caught. She looked like a lost child.

You stood up unthinkingly.

You walked across the room. Reached out your arms, and hugged Scarlett carefully. Felt the burning warmth of her through the thin t-shirt.

The air sparked and you knew that this was going to be something more.

.

Scarlett’s arms wrapped around you in response. You felt surprise rippling through her body.

After a moment, her head pressed against your shoulder.

Another moment, her lips pressed against your skin.

That’s where it started.

.

A switch flipped in your brain then. Something like addiction.

Boundaries and morals washed away.

You didn’t care about her husband, her reputation or yours.

You slept together in her marital bed.

.

Her body was soft like the lost thing in her eyes.

Scarlett’s fingers dragged across your skin with gentle wanting.

The world fell away.

It was desperation, but it was not a bad thing.

Her fingertips brushed your skin. You felt the soft weight of her against you.

.

It was not a bad thing.

You tell yourself that sometimes.

.

You stayed the day with her.

An almost stranger you’d met and fucked.

A beautiful stranger, whose soul scraped your insides like a new bow on a violin.

.

You left in the afternoon. Scarlett checked her phone with automatic concern and you knew she was thinking about her husband again.

You kissed Scarlett one last time, lips swollen and hair mussed.

On the way home, you thought about her murmured goodbye and the look in her eyes.

There was something dazed about her satisfaction.

.

She called you three days later. Her tone was cautious and you felt like a risk. Thrills went through you.

She invited you to a bar. It was only when she mentioned the word ‘discreet’ that you understood her real nervousness.

‘I have wine at mine.’ You noted casually, scanning the living room that you would have to tidy imminently.

‘Oh.’ Scarlett answered, shyness taking over from caution. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

When she arrived at yours, it was not the same. It was four in the afternoon. Scarlett wore a trench coat over a sweater and jeans.

She didn’t smile until you did, her rosy cheeks tinged with relief.

You poured pink wine into glasses as she settled on the sofa. Once you were seated too, Scarlett cleared her throat.

You held up your hand.

‘You want to smoke first?’ You suggested wryly.

‘Fuck you.’ Scarlett answered, her attention drawn instinctively to her purse that held cigarettes.

‘Quit then.’ You countered lazily.

.

Silence stretched between you. Scarlett’s fingers played with her lighter. She made no move for a cigarette.

‘It was an accident.’ Scarlett said finally.

You fought a smile. You shook your head in simple disagreement.

‘It didn’t mean anything.’

You shook your head again, refilling Scarlett’s glass.

‘I was lonely.’

You hesitated.

‘It was fun.’ You corrected at last.

Scarlett’s gaze made your throat tighten, like the smell of sex or the taste of tequila.

‘It was fun.’ Scarlett echoed, eyes full of defeat and acceptance.

A moment later, her hand touched your knee.

.

You had everything you wanted.

Until she left again.

You walked Scarlett to your door. Her cheeks were rosy. From sex and wine and the cold chill of smoking at an open window.

You cupped her face and kissed her softly.

Scarlett’s breath hitched as she watched you.

Sweet sadness caught her expression and you knew that this would end.

.

Scarlett didn’t call you again.

You didn’t call her either.

.

You saw her one last time. Three months later, a party in New York.

You kept your distance until the night was nearly through.

She appeared at your table, like some perfect apparition, arm outstretched. Her feet were bare. Her high heels lay next to her husband’s seat.

You danced across an empty floor. Scarlett’s body brushing yours, over and over.

Her eyes sparkling with the same sweet sadness.

When you felt the unmistakable bump graze against your stomach, you felt the sweet sadness too.

.

When the baby news was official, you sent her flowers. The same shade as her rosy cheeks.

When you saw the burning sunset. You thought of that night in Paris.

[please-destroy]

Jurassic Heart

Natasha Romanoff x Clumsy!Dork!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

.

‘You’re allowed to look.’ The beautiful red-headed woman told you with an obvious grin. You didn’t dare, keeping your gaze firmly at eye level and flushing obviously with embarrassment.

‘No, really.’ The woman insisted lightly. Her teasing tone made you certain that she’d caught your lingering stares from across the room. 

‘I just think your costume is really cool.’ You told her embarrassedly, trying to swerve the implication that you’d been looking at her breasts. 

‘Not as cool as yours.’ She leaned forward so you could hear her over the thrum of music. Her finger tapped the side of your wrist. Her touch made your skin tingle.

‘I’m Natasha.’ She called out and her head tilted invitingly. The small braid woven into her long hair caught your eye.

‘(Y/N)’ You replied with a nervous smile. 

‘How did you end up here?’ Natasha raised her eyebrow like she knew it would be a good story. You swallowed nervously, aware of how out of place you seemed at a party like this. 

‘I’m just an intern.’ You told her, trying to rub the back of your neck and hitting yourself with the spiky wing that was part of your costume. You winced in surprise and Natasha’s lips twitched with a small smile.

‘You’re cute.’ Natasha determined and her finger tapped the side of your wrist again. Your cheeks suddenly felt unbearably warm. You hadn’t expected her to flirt. 

‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.’ You replied unthinkingly. Your eyes widened with momentary panic as you heard the truth fall from your mouth.

Natasha’s teasing smirk faded as she registered your words. Her head tilted curiously. Your gazes tangled up for a moment and you tried to take a mental picture of the colour of her eyes. 

After a moment, Natasha's touch trailed down your wrist as she went to take your hand instead.

‘Let’s get a drink.’ She decided, leading you over to the bar. 

.

The bartender, dressed as someone from the stone age, couldn’t stop staring at the front of Natasha’s costume either. 

‘I like your, uh, little arms.’ She told Natasha with an overfriendly smile as she made up her cocktail.

‘I bet you do.’ Natasha replied with polite but clear disinterest.

You felt her thumb draw patterns on the back of your hand. Your stomach flipped.

Don’t screw this up. Your mind warned you immediately.

You pushed the thought away, you didn’t have a clue what you were doing anyway. 

You accepted a drink from Natasha gratefully. 

You raised the glass to your mouth and watched Natasha bite an olive from a cocktail stick in her martini. You faltered and wondered if you were having a fever dream.

‘Uh.’ You tried to start a conversation. You tried to think of something to say that wasn’t ‘Lips’, ‘Natasha’ or most embarrassingly ‘Bite Me.’

‘Our costumes match pretty well.’ Natasha looked you up and down thoughtfully, mercifully ignoring your awkwardness. 

You remembered how to function and nodded as you sipped your drink.

‘I wasn’t sure what the ‘Historic Moment’ theme meant on the invitation.’ You murmured, voice lowering automatically now that you were standing together at the quieter edge of the bar.

Natasha glanced over at the crowd on the dance-floor. You followed her gaze, scanning a sea of people wearing the sexiest outfits imaginable that could barely be called vintage.

You looked back at Natasha, taking the opportunity of her distraction to glance down again at the front of her dress. 

Unlike your own, Natasha’s costume couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to assemble. 

All she’d done was tape two tiny T-Rex arms to the bustiest part of her green dress. 

You’d both come dressed as dinosaurs, but you knew for certain that your own homemade pterodactyl contraption was not attracting the same appreciative glances as Natasha’s.

You’d stared at her chest, deep in thought. When you looked back up, Natasha was waiting patiently for your attention. 

‘Oh no.’ You mumbled, moving to hide your face with your hands. You forgot about the attached string pulley system again. You smacked yourself in the face with your own pterodactyl wings. 

You fought the tears that sprung in your eyes at the surprise hit. The wing looked absurdly soft but there were still metal coat hangers underneath the fabric.

You screwed it up. Your mind whispered.

You stared up at the assortment of loose balloons that bobbed against the ceiling. You tried to recollect yourself. You wished desperately you hadn’t worn such a lame costume. 

You jumped when Natasha’s hand touched your cheek. She hummed gently as her thumb brushed your skin.

‘That looked sore.’ She murmured, her eyes catching yours. There was a heartbeat. You felt the steady thump of the loud music through your feet. 

You noted absentmindedly that Natasha’s eyes were a much prettier green than her costume. You realised you could barely remember your own name when she looked at you. 

Natasha moved closer. Her lips brushed your cheek and shivers went through you. Her hand slid along your waist, just under the hem of your costume.

You breathed out slowly as her lips left your cheek. Natasha gave you a careful smile, assessing your reaction silently. Her hand didn’t leave your waist.

‘Come and meet my friends?’ She offered, her fingers drumming a soft pattern against your body. 

You started to nod, before you hesitated.

‘My costume.’ You mumbled. ‘I should take it off.’

Natasha smirked. 

‘Maybe later.’ She told you and it sounded like a promise. 

.

You let her lead you down some stairs and around the side of the large dance floor. You didn’t realise that you were in the VIP section until you saw Tony Stark approaching you.

His eyes scanned across Natasha’s costume, lingering obviously on the tiny T-Rex arms. Then, he glanced at yours.

‘Glad someone got the right idea.’ He declared, gesturing down at his own Freddie Flintstone costume. ‘I thought Out of Time was self explanatory. But it looks like a slutty ABBA reunion out there.’

His eyes flickered over your costume again. 

‘You work for me?’ He asked neutrally. You nodded, gulping automatically at his tone. You suddenly imagined having to tell people that you’d been fired because you pretended to be a dinosaur at your boss’ party.

‘Good.’ He said abruptly. ‘That wing mechanism is fantastic.’

Natasha’s hand slid easily out of yours as Tony moved to introduce you to his friend. You gave her a helpless look. Natasha gave you a small wave, eyes twinkling.

You watched her attention flicker to a group of women in the corner and she wandered over with a familiarity that told you they were good friends.

Captain Rhodes was deeply impressed by the wings on your back and the unnecessary features that you’d added to them just for fun. He murmured something distractedly about military tech and then went to get another man. Before long, there were several people asking you questions about the home-made contraption. You tried not to seem nervous, sipping your drink and pretending like any of this was normal. 

A server wandered past the group and Tony grabbed two drinks from the tray. Calmly, he offered you another glass of the same drink that you’d just finished. Then he started asking you about your internship and the other projects that you’d been working on. You stumbled over your words as you tried to explain how much the 6 month opportunity meant to you.

You tried to ignore the voice in your head worrying that you were screwing it all up again. 

Tony stayed silent as you talked. It made your ramble feel even more out of control.

.

‘Tomorrow is a new day.’ He declared when you finally lapsed into silence. ‘Actually.’ He corrected himself dryly. ‘It’s a New Year.’

You nodded unsurely.

‘Time for a new, permanent contract I think.’ He shared a conspiratorial look with the others in the group.

You followed his gaze, catching the approving nod of Captain Rhodes.

A sudden rush of pride for your silly costume filled you. Your cheeks hurt trying not to smile too wide as you realised that you’d just been hired by Tony Stark personally.

Something about your rush of happiness turned your gaze back to Natasha like a magnet. 

She was sitting alone on one of the small sofas to the side of the VIP area. She was already looking at you, her expression soft.

Without thinking, you directed your smile at her. 

Natasha smiled back brightly and you noticed the way it made her eyes crinkle. She nodded at the space next to her and you found yourself shrugging off the harness that held your wings and handing the contraption to Colonel Rhodes.

You walked over to Natasha, leaving Tony and the others to continue their discussion.

Natasha’s gaze wandered along your bare arms, exposed without the clunkiest part of your costume. As you sat down, her arm slipped easily around your side. She felt warm pressed against you. You found yourself leaning into her touch. 

‘Having a good time?’ She asked you, like she couldn't tell already. 

‘I think tonight has been better than my whole year.’ You told her seriously and Natasha laughed. You swallowed an overwhelmed feeling. Her laugh was quieter than you expected but you felt it vibrate through you. You wished you could replay the sound forever.

‘It’s only ten minutes until midnight.’ Natasha said suddenly a moment later. You heard the question behind her words. You looked at her curiously. 

You wondered how she’d ended up here at this party without someone to kiss at midnight. 

Natasha looked away self consciously and you realised she could see the question in your eyes. 

You reached out, letting your fingers brush her wrist. 

‘I’d like to kiss you.’ You told her honestly and Natasha gave you a shy smile. 

‘Now or at midnight?’ She teased and her hand brushed your knee.

You felt so grateful for Natasha already. 

‘Let’s make it special.’ You decided. 

Natasha’s head tilted and you realised that she hadn’t expected your answer.

You shrugged nervously.

‘You’re special.’ You mumbled, feeling all of a sudden too much like a teenager at prom.

Natasha hummed a sceptical sound and you knew her disagreement wasn't another tease. You paused unsurely.

‘So, how was your year?’ You asked carefully. 

Natasha glanced away then. Her arm moved away from you as she reached for her drink and took a casual sip.

‘There were ups and downs.’ She answered after a moment.

.

Her tone was light but it made your heart sting.

‘Maybe next year will be better.’ You said, as you moved your hand to find her free one.

Your fingers tangled loosely together and you gave a light squeeze. Natasha looked down at your hands but she didn’t speak.

After a moment, she bumped her shoulder with yours.

‘Do you know what’s gonna happen at midnight?’ You asked, gesturing over to the packed dance floor that was only becoming more crowded as the New Year approached.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

‘You know the ball drop in Times Square?’ She asked. ‘Tony’s going to drop his own version. Except this one will look more like a meteor falling from the sky.’

.

There are few points in your life where a decision is crucial. This was one of those times.

You stood up, tugging at Natasha’s hand as you did.

She looked up at you curiously.

‘Dinosaurs don’t do well with meteors.’ You told her seriously. 

Surprise flickered over Natasha’s face but she let you lead her away.

.

The stairs to the rooftop took several minutes to climb. 

You both gasped when you opened the last door and stepped into the freezing night. Natasha huddled close to you as you stood huddled together, watching the dial of your watch count down the last minute.

You started counting aloud when there were ten seconds left until midnight. You rubbed Natasha's bare arms gently, trying uselessly to protect her from the snow that had started to fall.

When your countdown reached 8, Natasha started counting with you. Her green eyes held yours intently. 

When you reached 5, Natasha licked her lower lip and you swallowed nervously.

As you both said 3, you tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Your fingers brushed her small braid. Your hand stayed by her face, cupping her cheek carefully. 

By the time you got to 2, you watched her nervous huff of breath like sudden fog in the cold air.

At 1, you leaned forward, and so did she.

As midnight arrived, you heard fireworks begin to pop across the city. You lost yourself in Natasha. You couldn't remember who you were before her lips had found yours.

Her fingers slipped into your hair as she encouraged you to kiss her again. She didn’t need to. You didn’t want to be anywhere else.

.

When you broke apart at last, there was a half beat where you weren’t sure what to do. 

‘Don’t laugh.’ Natasha told you seriously and you watched as she plucked the T-Rex arms from the front of her dress. You gave her a soft smile. You felt dazed, heavy with attraction and light with relief. 

In the first few seconds of the brand new year, you felt completely free.

You opened your arms when you realised Natasha’s intent. Natasha pressed herself against your chest and you wrapped your arms around her. The tip of her nose was ice cold when she buried it into the crook of your neck.

‘We’re the last two dinosaurs.’ She mumbled and her hot breath sent tingles down your spine.

‘We already survived the meteor.’ You smiled, arms tightening around her. 'It's going to be a good year.'

[please-destroy]

Afterglow

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 4k

.

‘It’s nothing.’ Scarlett defended. Her hand dropped from her lower back. She stood straighter. You dropped your eyes to the floor at her tone, heat crawled up your neck.

It wasn’t nothing. 

You’d only been hired as her assistant a month ago, but you knew it wasn’t nothing.

.

You didn’t meet her in person until after you’d gotten the job. 

At your interview, conducted over zoom, Scarlett Johansson had explained her skin-care line would be launching before the end of the year. She’d detailed the lengthy list of job responsibilities with an edge to her voice. Even through the screen, you’d caught the challenge in the tilt of her chin. 

The unspoken dare. If it was too much for you, back out now.

You only smiled.

‘I’d love the opportunity.’ You told her sincerely.

Scarlett’s eyebrow raised. For a moment, you thought you saw a sparkle of humour in her eye. Then, the tension returned.

‘I’ll be in touch.’ She told you, ending the call before you could respond again.

The job contract, the NDA and the practicalities of relocating for your new job took two weeks. 

.

There was something Scarlett did not mention on the phone. 

You knocked on her door on the first day. 

You’d already been let through security checks at the gate. You knew you were expected.

Scarlett opened the door. 

You were anticipating her to be very tired, exhausted even. Scarlett was currently on a virtual press tour for her new movie. 

You were not expecting her to be so.

Pregnant.

Scarlett’s face was smooth, except for subtle lines of tension around her eyes. She waited, holding the door ajar, daring you to comment. 

You glanced at the cardboard boxes lining the hallway behind her. 

‘How can I help?’ You asked, feeling your senses come back to you. 

You followed Scarlett through to her own kitchen. Even walking behind her, you felt in awe. You savoured the moment out of her sight to let the shock of her pregnancy run through you.

No-one knew.

You’d been watching her press junket interviews for the past few days, calling it work prep. There had been no indication. No hint at all.

You tried to wipe your expression blank again when Scarlett next turned to face you. The same warning was written across her face. You let a belated congratulations die in your throat.

‘I have a busy day.’ She told you in a tight voice. ‘I have video interviews scheduled back to back.’

You gave a silent nod. Scarlett gestured to yet another taped cardboard box sitting on her kitchen counter. 

‘I need to move him out.’ She continued. 

You kept your face frozen. Colin Jost, your mind supplied helpfully. You’d been researching your boss, more work prep.

‘I need you to move him out.’ Scarlett corrected herself. She gave you an assessing look. Disappointment swirled in her eyes as she took in your stunned reaction.

You snapped back to the moment. 

‘Of course.’ You murmured, trying to calm your reeling mind. You moved over to the kitchen counter and the box.

Scarlett stepped away from your advance automatically, heading over to the door. 

The distrust in her body language trickled over you. You blushed in embarrassment.

‘The NDA.’ She reminded you bluntly, voice rasping. 

‘The iron clad one I signed?’ You asked, voice too innocent.

For a moment, a hint of humour sparkled in Scarlett’s eye. Exhaustion cut through it quickly. 

‘I’ll be back later.’ She told you evenly, before she left the room.

When she was gone, you nearly had a panic attack. 

Standing alone in her kitchen, staring at a box of her ex’s belongings. 

Scarlett Johansson was beautiful. You closed your eyes and knew she was embedded in your brain. 

It didn’t matter. 

The box was heavy as you lugged it through to sit with the others in the hallway. You walked through her house numbly, searching out more cardboard boxes. You avoided only the room that you could hear her laughing in. You found half a dozen more heavy boxes. 

Back breaking work on your first day should have been a red flag.

Still, you’d never had a pregnant boss before. You found yourself grateful that you’d been designated the task. You didn’t like to think of her doing it herself. 

You spent the next half hour pacing unsurely around the kitchen. At last, Scarlett came through at lunchtime. 

There was nothing subtle about her exhaustion or tension now. Her hair was tied back, it made her look drawn. 

A buildup of questions fell from your mouth before you could help it.

‘Can I get you something to eat? Who should I call about the boxes? Is there anything else I can do?’

Scarlett stared at you for a moment in the doorway. You watched her exhale in frustration. Alarm flared inside you.

‘I don’t have time for lunch. I have back to back interviews.’ She told you, voice simmering. ‘If it’s not in front of me right now, I don’t have time to eat it. I assumed that was clear.’

An apology caught in your throat as she unlocked and slid her phone across the now bare kitchen counter. 

‘He’s my last missed call.’ She told you bluntly. ‘Tell him to pick the boxes up.’

You nodded nervously, searching for the contact hurriedly. 

Scarlett moved to the fridge.

She stared at the contents with a kind of misery that told you how hungry she was.

Her expectation that you’d have known to prepare lunch was unreasonable, but you still felt awful.

‘I’m sorry.’ You squeaked out before she left again. 

Scarlett gave you a wry smile, it didn’t meet her eyes. 

‘I’m fat enough already.’ She shrugged, nodding down at the bump.

Your chest felt hollow with her joke, her final acknowledgement of the pregnancy. 

Colin Jost answered the call immediately. This was not surprising. There were fourteen missed calls from him on Scarlett’s phone. 

‘Scarlett.’ He sounded relieved. 

‘This is Scarlett’s assistant.’ You cut in immediately, not wanting there to be any confusion. 

You arranged for the boxes to be collected that afternoon by his own assistant. 

Impossibly, Colin had sounded tenser than Scarlett had. Guilt had dripped from his words and you didn’t want to imagine why.

.

You were dismissed when Scarlett next left her office. 

This time, you hovered at the foot of the stairs. Scarlett was notably ungainly as she walked down them, hand gripping the railing. 

Your heart caught in your mouth with a panicked premonition of her falling. Scarlett was very pregnant. Her centre of balance was clearly off. 

You moved to climb the stairs, ready to help before you could think it through. 

Scarlett froze midway down. 

Her eyes flashed dangerously at your presumption.

Cautiously, you backed down from the stairs.

‘My daughter will be home soon.’ She informed you, in the same blunt tone as earlier. ‘You can go now.’

You nodded silently, not admitting that you’d snuck a look at her schedule whilst her phone was unlocked. 

Scarlett gave a careful sigh then. You glanced up at her, still several steps above you on the staircase. 

‘I should have been more prepared for today.’ She admitted suddenly, shifting slightly with the discomfort of standing. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

‘Okay.’ You said simply, not sure where you stood at the end of your first day.

You left the house. You ignored curious texts from friends wondering about your new mysterious job. You ignored the fact that, all things considered, your new boss had not been fair to you at all.

Instead, you wished desperately that you’d been brave enough to insist on making her dinner.

That night in bed, you stared up at your ceiling, trying to imagine what the next day would bring.

The next morning, with not nearly enough sleep, you found out.

.

It did not take you long to become good at your job. If you were being honest, this was because you thought of little else.

Your job had two main parts. 

The things you were asked to do. 

The things you were not asked to do. 

You excelled at the first but you lived for the second.

Scarlett’s calendar was colour coded within the first week. You parsed through various scheduled appointments, altering as many as you could so they didn’t overlap with her time with her daughter. 

You didn’t expect recognition for it. You lived for the small smile Scarlett gave when she checked her phone and saw the afternoon clear yet again.

Her favourite lunch was chicken salad. Soon enough, you could’ve prepared it in your sleep. 

Scarlett never thanked you directly. 

You didn’t need her to. Her voice softened towards you. You thought about it at night. You thought about a lot of things you shouldn’t.

.

You never touched Scarlett. 

Not that you were expecting to. 

A flush crawled up your neck every morning just from looking at her. You couldn’t get used to being close to someone so beautiful.

But, you didn’t even touch Scarlett in passing. You brought her lunch up to her office every day. Every day, she would lean subtly away from you as you put the plate on her desk. 

You would hear her breath catch in discomfort. She radiated tension at your proximity.

You tried not to let it bother you. You hoped desperately that she couldn’t see your crush, even though it felt painted on your skin.

.

And then, one morning, Scarlett met you impatiently at the front door. Her hair was tied back neatly. You understood the visual clues immediately. She had a professional meeting scheduled soon. You remembered her talking about potential investors the day before.

‘I have a call this morning.’ Scarlett confirmed, matter of factly. ‘I’m already late and I need you to take notes.’ 

You nodded, eyes widening in surprise. This was not usual. Scarlett’s office door stayed shut for most of the day, and you didn’t disturb her when it was closed.

Scarlett turned to hurry up the stairs, making you immediately nervous. Your hand hovered secretly at the small of her back as you walked a half step behind her. 

She handed you a notebook when you reached her office. Her fingers dragged over the back of your hand. Scarlett went very still. You forgot to breathe. 

She turned back to her desk and you caught the pink flush to her cheeks.

Longing burned in the pit of your stomach. The back of your hand was seared with her fingerprints. 

When the call began, you sat to the side of her desk, just out of sight.

You realised quickly why Scarlett had implored you to sit in. Distracted didn’t cover it. She couldn’t sit still. You watched her fidget in her seat for thirty minutes, barely remembering to nod at the right moments. 

Your attention stayed on her as you wrote out your notes. 

Discomfort was to be expected. You tried to remind yourself that it was inevitable. Scarlett was only becoming more pregnant. 

You watched her subtle winces as she continued to readjust herself in the office chair. 

There was an inevitable date approaching that neither of you had discussed. Scarlett hadn’t confirmed a thing, but you were sure she had entered her third trimester now. 

The call ended at last. 

Scarlett’s focus turned to you immediately. 

‘I’m hungry.’ She informed you pointedly. Her words took you by surprise. She never acknowledged the meals you were preparing for her. She’d never commented about the dinners you’d begun to leave stacked in her fridge before you left.

‘Okay.’ You agreed, waiting for her to stand first. 

Scarlett looked back at you, impatiently. 

There was an awkward silence before you realised she wanted you to leave first. You exited quickly, staring at the floor in embarrassment.

.

It didn’t take long to prepare a snack in the kitchen. 

You focused on the task angrily, wishing you were brave enough to ask the questions that were burning inside you. 

You’d been in this job long enough now and still every conversation was stilted and formal. 

Scarlett was very cautious about what others could see. Nobody in her family even seemed to know she was pregnant. Or at least, no one was checking in. 

You could see the cracks in the cold facade of it all. The brief pain on her face when she rejected an incoming call. 

You wished you could see all of her, not just the cracks. 

The obvious discomfort you’d noticed today felt like the final straw.

.

Still, you watched her descend the stairs surreptitiously.

Every few steps, Scarlett paused and her eyes squeezed tight with pain. Once, she pressed her knuckles hard against the small of her back. 

You didn’t say anything when she entered the kitchen. 

Her eyes were determined, the challenge in the tilt of her chin always present. Her hands were carefully at her sides. She walked straighter than ever. 

You didn’t move away from the counter, blocking her path to the plate you’d prepared.

You tilted your chin in an imitation of her own expression. Irritation crossed Scarlett’s face as she met your gaze. After a moment, her hand moved subtly to press against the small of her back again. 

‘How can I help?’ You asked, quietly but firmly. Scarlett startled at your question.

You looked pointedly down at her hand.

‘It’s nothing.’ Scarlett defended.  Her hand dropped from her lower back. She stood straighter. You dropped your eyes to the floor at her tone, heat crawled up your neck.

It wasn’t nothing. 

You were getting sick of this. Renewed strength brought your eyes back up to meet hers. 

‘How can I help?’ You repeated your words to her calmly. You tilted your chin again in defiance, it was more demand than question.

You stared at each other for a long time.

Scarlett’s attention flitted to the snack that you’d prepared. Suddenly, it was her who was looking down at the ground.

You watched as the cracked pieces of her broke entirely. 

She stretched her hand out, leaning against the counter and relieving the pressure on her back.

‘Please.’ She whispered, admitting everything. 

You stepped forward. Your hand touched her back gently, unsurely. Scarlett’s breath hitched.

‘Lower.’ She whispered, something almost humiliated in her tone. 

You moved your hand obediently.

Scarlett moaned between clenched teeth when you found the spot.

Slowly, but surely, you pressed the heel of your hand against her back. 

Scarlett gave a strangled whimper, leaning automatically into your touch. You moved the pressure in a slow circle, trying to ease out the pain. 

Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand, muffling the noise. Her eyes were closed, but you saw a tear slip down her cheek.

When Scarlett turned around a few minutes later, she did not look like the woman you’d been working for. 

Defeat tangled with embarrassment in her expression. 

You watched her unsurely, not knowing what to say. 

Her voice cracked. 

‘I’m just so tired.’ She admitted, purposefully avoiding your stare.

.

Touching her now was easier. 

You took her hand, soft and warm in yours. It felt perfectly weighted. Gently, you led her to the sofa. 

Scarlett had never sat on it. Not whilst you were here. She gripped your arm suddenly as she lowered herself carefully down onto it. Shame tinted her cheeks pink. You understood abruptly that she would need a hand up from it too. 

Annoyance flared at her relentless stubbornness.

Scarlett exhaled shakily at the relief of a comfortable seat.

She looked over and caught the frustration written across your expression.

‘Y/N’ She murmured lowly, uncertainly. A shiver went down your spine at the way she said your name. 

‘You’re still hungry.’ You said quietly, getting back to your feet. Scarlett’s face burned with embarrassment as she watched you leave. 

When you returned, she was sitting as straight as she could on the soft sofa. Despite your frustration, it made your lips quirk upwards. 

You placed her plate down on the coffee table. 

You didn’t speak as she ate. Instead, you played nervously with your fingers. You tried to find the right words. 

You waited until you heard the plate thud back against the table. 

‘I want to take care of you.’ You whispered at last, staring at your hands. ‘I know it’s my job. But, I want to do it too.’ 

Scarlett didn’t speak. Your strange confession hung in the space between you.

Your skin tingled and your heart jumped erratically in your chest. You took a chance, glancing over at her. Scarlett’s eyes closed for a brief moment. You recognised the expression on her face. She was also trying to find the right words.

‘It always.’ She started unsurely. ‘It always goes wrong.’

Your head tilted in confusion. Scarlett gave a sad smile. 

You looked down at her belly and she followed your gaze. 

‘I’m sick of being disappointed.’ Scarlett’s voice caught, tangling with a raw pain. Her hand curved across her front. The action was stilted, as if her stomach was still unfamiliar to her. 

‘But, it’s me.’ She whispered, voice cracking open now. Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling, and you watched them fill with tears. ‘It’s always my fault.’

You wanted to help. An ache rippled through you.

You touched her leg. Scarlett froze.

She caught your gaze, and your intention too. 

She shook her head suddenly, you saw the tears slip down her cheeks.

‘Don’t pretend.’ She whispered now, almost begging. ‘Just, please, don’t pretend to care.’

‘I don’t know how.’ You murmured.

You leaned closer, giving yourself up to the want of her. 

Her lips were fuller than you expected. You could taste the salt on them.

Scarlett’s fingers were shaky as she touched the nape of your neck. 

Shivers rippled down your spine.

You kissed her harder and she responded in kind. 

Scarlett’s fingers tangled in your hair now. Her grip was sudden and tight. You felt her desperation in the curl of her fingers.

Blindly, you searched for her other hand, resting at her side. Already, the warmth of it was familiar. You held it tightly in yours, Scarlett exhaled slowly.

You leaned back to look at her. The flush of her cheeks doused you with affection and arousal. 

‘Scarlett.’ You said unthinkingly, enjoying the sound of her name on your tongue. 

She didn’t look up at her name, still focused on your lips. 

‘You’re perfect.’ She murmured, trailing a finger along your cheek and down the side of your neck. You wondered if she could feel your jumping pulse. ‘You’re not going to stay.’ 

Anger flared through you now. Indignity at being judged by other people’s mistakes.

You moved to kiss her collarbone harshly. Your teeth stung her skin as you nipped and sucked. Scarlett moaned into your ear. She fidgeted on the sofa as you left wet marks across her exposed skin. She grabbed at the sofa cushion to the side of her. 

‘I just want to help.’ You murmured determinedly, planting one last kiss just below her ear. Scarlett whined, her head tilting back.

You moved to kneel on the floor. 

You settled between her legs, fingers tugging down her pants. Everything felt predetermined. Maybe because you’d dreamed it. Maybe because it was always going to happen.

You looked up at her as you spread her legs. Scarlett was looking down at you, her pupils had dilated entirely. Everything felt right. You had wanted to be here for so long. 

You dragged your nails up her bare thighs. 

‘Thank you.’ Scarlett rasped and your heart clenched at the strange insecurity of it. You wanted to be here, you didn’t know how to tell her again.

Instead, you licked along her cunt. You could taste her already, coating your tongue. Scarlett couldn’t reach you from around her stomach. Your eyes flitted up to see her nails digging into the sofa cushion. Her head tilted back against the sofa, eyes closing.

She mumbled something quietly to herself. Annoyance continued to flicker inside you. You wanted to hear her.

You pressed your tongue hard against her clit and made her scream instead. 

When you were done. When she’d fidgeted against your wandering tongue. When you could taste the sweet tang of her in your mouth. When you would never think of anything else ever again. When she was trembling. You looked back up at her.

Scarlett’s hair was mussed, her mouth was parted as she panted. 

Scarlett was undone. 

You kissed her clit lightly, giving her one last aftershock before you slid her pants back up her legs. She acquiesced limply, still not quite in the room.

You sat beside her on the sofa, enjoying the weird domesticity of her afterglow. You rested your head against her shoulder feeling her chest move with each ragged breath. 

Your heart was still pounding beneath your ribs, trying to adjust to the new way the world was hung.

After a minute, you felt Scarlett tense again. You knew she was going to speak. 

‘What now?’ She asked bluntly, words purposefully calm. You lifted your head and read the challenge in the tilt of her chin. You knew instinctively that she was daring you to leave, readying herself for it even now. A strange, soft affection built in your chest. You realised that you would always win her dares.

You took her hand in yours. You weaved your fingers together and held tight. The warmth of her skin trickled inside you. 

You didn’t speak. Neither did she. 

You watched her thumb rub circles against your knuckles, enraptured.

.

(Some time later)

.

‘It won’t stop.’ Scarlett looked down at her phone cradled in her lap. Her voice was tight.

The phone buzzed in her hand, over and over as the news stories rolled in. You sat next to her, on the edge of her bed. You touched her very rounded stomach, still covered by the dress she’d worn to the earlier meeting. 

Even now, you found yourself hesitant to touch her, for so long she’d been your boss. 

Scarlett gave you a searing look. You weren’t sure if she regretted it. The public announcement of you. The personal assistant turned girlfriend. The implications for her, her sexuality, her career, her expected child. 

Her phone kept buzzing as more implications rolled in. You watched the headlines appear on the screen, one after another.

You watched Scarlett’s forehead crease with worry. Your stomach clenched, the moment felt unbearable.

You touched her shoulder, your fingers slipping under her sleeve. Her skin was warm. Scarlett’s breath caught. 

‘You’re all I think about.’ You told her, letting your mind cloud with familiar want. 

Scarlett’s lips parted. She watched you, something still unsure in her eyes. You scratched her skin lightly. Her eyes closed.

Her phone slipped in her grip and the buzzing became louder. Her gaze returned to it.

‘I can’t ignore everyone. It’s not polite.’ She snapped suddenly. 

With confidence you rarely had, you moved to stand in front of her. You pulled at the phone in her grip, Scarlett released it with unexpected obedience. Maybe she could see your mood better than you could feel it. 

You let the constant tug between your souls pull you forward. You leaned down, letting your lips find each other. You pressed yourself against her front, feeling her bump brush against you. 

The air was thick with anticipation. You slipped the vibrating phone beneath the skirt of her dress.

‘I have no interest in being polite or heterosexual.’ You whispered against her ear. Scarlett gave a soft cry and her hand twisted the fabric of your shirt.

You pressed the phone higher, letting it sit against the familiar cotton of her underwear. Scarlett moaned. She gripped your shoulder with sudden fierceness, holding you in place. 

You moved your fingers over the elastic of her panties, desperate to feel her. The vibrating phone stayed cradled against your palm, pressed to her.

Scarlett was slick against your skin. She started to whine, her neck falling back as she held you tighter. You kissed her neck, letting your teeth graze her skin.

Your fingers moved inside her with every vibration, Scarlett jolted against you. Her eyes were screwed tight, her cheeks flushed. She called your name, over and over. 

Her walls tightened around you at last and she screamed into the room. 

In the moments after, she lay back against the bed. You slid the dress up to kiss her exposed stomach. Scarlett’s breathing was still heavy as she reached for your hand, slipping her fingers between your wet ones. 

You kissed damp cotton and whispered a secret there, just to make her body twitch.

[please-destroy]

Request for Requests

Hello, I’m looking to do a mini writing challenge in January. 

I’d be really grateful if anyone had any requests they’d like to submit for it here: @historyofstoriesendingsadly

There's more info in the pinned post on that blog.

[please-destroy]

No Matter What

Pregnant!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

.

You hadn’t been given enough time. You lay flat to the ground as the explosions around you continued with an unrelenting pace.

You couldn’t move. The hot trickle of blood running down your calf told you enough. You’d been watching the thick white cloud of gas roll slowly towards you, and now it was here.

You could feel the cool moisture as it cloaked your bare ankles, beginning to envelope you.

You continued trying to inch your phone out of your pocket, twisting yourself awkwardly with the action. 

The part of you that was still clinging to hope needed her desperately. All you wanted was to hear Wanda’s voice telling you it would be okay. 

You couldn’t let yourself think about the baby. You didn’t think losing your future would hurt like this. You didn’t expect to feel such grief when you were the one dying.

It felt like fingernails raking along your throat when you choked on the realisation that you’d never see the baby. You’d never know if they really did have Wanda’s eyes. Your chest went tight with the hope that they did. 

You brought your phone level to your face, wincing at the brightness. 

One text, Wanda.

‘Stay safe, check in when you can, we miss you.’

You dropped the phone and closed your eyes. The clouded air smelled sweet, you could taste aniseed. You couldn’t call her, you were out of time.

You hoped the baby had Wanda’s smile too. Selfishly, now, you hoped that little pieces of you would be in there too. That people would still talk about you. You didn’t want to be another ghost, another unspeakable shadow that haunted the corner of Wanda’s eye.

You slipped into delirium a moment later and unconsciousness a minute after that.

.

You had plenty to live for, but when you heard your name being called you still didn’t want to wake up.

Your eyes shuttered open and you gasped out a breath like it was your first. You’d been moved, the gas was gone, the air seemed clean.

It took a moment to recognise the inside of the helicarrier. Even longer to understand it was Natasha who was underneath the industrial gas mask. 

You lost control of your panic, hyperventilating at the shock of her appearance. The rattling sound of her gas mask filtering the air was unsettling. It also meant there was still danger. Your hand went to your throat in confusion. Why weren’t you wearing one too?

‘You’ve been infected.’ Natasha called, staying carefully away from you in the med bay. ‘We think it's hallucinogenic, your pupils are blown wide.’

As if Natasha's words were a premonition, the world around her started to tilt. The edges of her figure started to blur and merge with the background. You tried not to fall back on the stretcher as the dizziness hit.

‘Wanda.’ You huffed out, fighting against the heaviness dragging you back under. You tried to find Natasha’s eyes behind the dark tinted glass of the helmet. Tears pricked your eyes, you could feel yourself slipping away. You were out of time again.

You felt a hand grip your arm at the last moment.

‘No matter what.’ Natasha’s voice assured you. It was the promise she’d made you a long time ago, Wanda would always be kept safe.

.

The next time you woke up, you were in a small room. The walls were concrete, the floor was concrete, the door was metal. 

You crawled to the corner, trying to remember if you’d been captured. Your mind felt heavy, thoughts blurring together.

Then, you heard her. 

A high pitched scream slid through the crack under the door, you flew against the wall at the shock of the sudden noise.

You lurched forward as you recognised it, stumbling to your feet. Your hands found the door handle. 

The scream came again, louder this time.

‘Wanda.’ You cried out, trying desperately at the door. It wouldn’t budge. Her screams sounded mangled now, choking off into sobs. 

Where was she? What were they doing to her?

You remembered nothing else as you slammed your shoulder against the door, shouting out your wife’s name.

The screams got louder and consequent images flashed through your mind. They were torturing her. The worst thoughts filled your mind. You were sure you could smell blood. Wanda must be close. You shouted again, slamming yourself desperately into the door.

Then, Wanda screamed your name and something inside you stopped responding. A feral panic made you more animal than human. 

You were going to have to get through concrete. Your fingernails scraped down the walls, the only thought driving you was that Wanda was on the other side. She wouldn’t stop screaming.

The disorientation was overwhelming, you lost yourself completely in the haze of her ceaseless screams.

Eventually you came to, seeing the bloody tracks already scraped into the wall. You knew it must have been you, but you couldn’t remember.

.

Natasha’s voice echoed suddenly into the room. Your head spun as you sought her out wildly. The room was still empty.

‘Wanda.’ You choked out, tears immediately flooding your cheeks in relief that someone could help. You couldn’t focus on what she was saying. 

‘You need to get Wanda, please Nat, please. They’re hurting her.’

Wanda’s screams began again, echoing off the walls and ricocheting around your mind. Your nails scratched your scalp as you fell to your knees.

You heard Natasha’s voice again, muffled and distorted like she was somewhere underwater.

‘Why are you still here?’ You screamed at the door. ‘Why aren’t you helping her?’ 

You buried your head in your hands, muffling another scream that bubbled out of you.

Confusion turned to rage and you seethed at Natasha’s continued unmoving presence behind the door. You hated your own uselessness. 

‘What about the baby?’ You shouted again, hearing the desperate edge plaguing your own voice. ‘Please Nat, please, she’s pregnant. They’re gonna kill her.’

You broke off into a cry at the words. You couldn’t hear anything but the neverending screams. 

You curled yourself against the wall, shakes wracking your body. You wondered how you could ever have feared death for yourself. 

Now Wanda was dying, she was being murdered. You’d never see your baby. The last piece of her was going to die along with her. You couldn’t fix it.

Your screams mixed with Wanda’s and you felt the emptiness slam into your own chest, like your baby was dying inside of you instead.

You wanted to die. You wanted it all to be over. There wasn’t anything else.

Wanda’s screams quietened and you sat, taut with the tension of waiting desperately to hear her and also dreading her voice.

Were they letting her rest, or was she finally dead?

Your heart beat stuttered erratically as you waited for some noise. Time dragged hellishly. Now, the silence was the worst of all. 

You drew your knees up to your chest, burying your face against them. You started to sob, some animalistic moan building in your chest at the inexpressible pain.

No future. No baby. No Wanda. 

Would there even be bodies to bury? You choked on the thought, and you heard your cries like they were someone else's.

.

Natasha’s voice echoed into the room once again. You froze at the sensation, looking around desperately for her figure. A grim hope flared in your chest once again. Natasha could still get you out, even if she wouldn’t help Wanda and the baby.

Once you were out of this room, you could get to them. You could still try.

‘(Y/N?)’ You recognised your name in Natasha’s voice, she sounded panicked. 

You lifted your head fully to lean against the wall, waiting for her to tell you the news you didn’t know how to hear. You were too late.

‘Wanda’s okay. She’s okay. Remember? No matter what.’

Your eyes closed at Natasha’s words, somehow, inherently, you trusted them.

‘No matter what.’ You rasped out, throat wrecked from your own screams. You heard Natasha’s message. There was still hope, this was still part of the mission.

As if called upon by Natasha’s words, Wanda’s voice returned again. 

Now, you heard the soft scared whimpers that you’d only heard before when you’d held her through the worst of nightmares.

‘Why is she still crying?’ You moaned out desperately, confusion clawing at you.

‘Your mind is playing tricks.’ Natasha told you again.

Wanda started begging. Begging for the baby, begging for you. You heard her desperate pleads and bile rose in your throat.

Natasha was lying. There was no way that your mind could invent this. 

You lay against the cold concrete floor, wishing you had been killed in one of the explosions.

They were still hurting her. You could picture the sharp knife from the way she whimpered quietly. She’d always been scared of knives. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You closed your eyes, desperate for unconsciousness.

You no longer had any concept of time. You only opened your eyes when you next registered a change in Wanda’s voice.

She was calling your name. It was soft like air. Your head flew up from its place on the floor and you turned disorientedly to find her. Before you could scramble to your feet, you registered her voice.

‘(Y/N) loves you.’ Wanda’s voice came softly into the room. You were sure the sound was sneaking in with the bright cracks of light surrounding the door. You inched closer, wanting to be near her more than anything in the world.

‘Even when I’m not here. (Y/N) is going to love you extra just for me.’

Your stomach rolled as you realised who Wanda was saying goodbye to. Misery pinned you to the floor. You stared upwards, unable to do anything but listen, as Wanda comforted the baby she knew she’d never see. 

Tears flooded down your cheeks and numbness started to creep in.

Time dragged on. You stayed close to the crack of light by the door. Your hand trailed the concrete wall miserably, wishing you could touch her skin instead.

Wanda was crying to herself somewhere nearby. You didn’t want her to be alone. Why didn’t she know you were here and that you loved her? Screams choked and died in your throat, knowing they’d be as useless as the ones you’d made before.

The worst part of their torture was the monotony of it all. You didn’t know how many times they brought Wanda to the edge of death, until her screams were uncontrolled and her desperate cries for you filled up the awful tiny room. But, every time they stopped, the only real certainty was that they’d start again.

You thought you might have slept, but time moved differently now. Your dreams seemed like reality and the two felt increasingly indistinguishable. You only stopped crying as the thirst began to kick in.

.

Eventually, small pieces of reality started to trickle back in. Thick white gas and metal faces swam abstractly in your mind. You clung to these thoughts hoping there’d be some clue in them to lead you to Wanda.

It took forever until you remembered Natasha’s words on the helicarrier.

Knowing that you were hallucinating didn’t help as much as you’d hoped. You knew it wasn’t really Wanda now. 

Still, the cries sounded real. Image after image of her lying dead just behind the metal door attacked your mind.

You couldn’t trust that she and the baby were safe. 

You tried to block out her voice, begging again for you to be spared.

You’d have thrown up. But, you hadn’t eaten either. Thirst parched you and your stomach felt hollow. You kept staring at the ceiling. 

You started hearing the desperate wails of an infant and you closed your eyes again. Waves of agony rolled through you at the sound and the urgent need to find your child. 

Wanda’s baby was screaming and that meant she was gone.

You started to cry again.

.

The bolt of the door scraped open slowly and, at first, you were sure it was another hallucination. You could see Natasha’s face this time.

Her hand extended out with a water bottle in it. Her eyes stared deep into yours.

‘Wanda is okay.’ She said clearly. ‘Do you understand?’ You tried to nod as new sobs of relief flooded through you. You believed her. You started to rock yourself again. 

Natasha crouched down next to you, one hand on your knee.

‘Quarantine is over.’ She told you succinctly, forcing the water bottle into your hand until you took it, obediently starting to drink. You emptied it in a few gulps, your thirst reminded you of the eternity you’d spent in here.

‘How long?’ You croaked out. 

‘Two days. We told her the mission got extended.’ Natasha’s tone told you how little she’s enjoyed keeping your pact.

‘She doesn’t know?’ You checked.

‘She’s not here.’ Natasha told you, as if this was answer enough.

You tried to speak again, but your throat closed up.

‘You can see her now.’ Natasha said simply, taking your hand and pulling you to your very shaky feet. You used her hand as a crutch as you moved gingerly towards the door. 

The corridor outside was unfamiliar, but you knew it was the Avengers Medical Wing from the logo on the wall. First you entered a small room, a fresh set of clothes lay folded. A bathroom stood off to the side. Natasha waited outside the door as you hurried through the tasks.

Soon, you shuffled through to a generic waiting room. Clint sat on one of the uncomfortable seats, head in his hands as he stared at the ground. He looked up as soon as he heard you coming.

‘Fuck. You look like shit.’ His eyes tracked your face worriedly. You didn’t have the energy for a comeback. You kept moving forward, turning your head only as you passed him.

‘Thank you.’ You told him. Clint glowered, knowing you meant keeping Wanda in the dark. He left quickly, kicking over a chair as he left the room. You understood why he couldn’t say ‘You’re welcome’.

Natasha’s arm moved tentatively around your shoulders but she didn’t make you slow your pace. You moved to the elevator, pressing the button for the floor you shared with Wanda.

You ached at how close she’s been the whole time.

‘And she’s fine?’ You checked again.

Wordlessly, Natasha handed you over your phone. The battery was nearly dead, but you saw the list of texts and calls. Wanda was safe, but she knew something was up. You swallowed nervously.

The doors opened onto your floor and you moved forward to the last door between you and Wanda. 

Natasha stayed in the elevator.

‘Thank you.’ You remembered before the elevator doors closed. Natasha just nodded once, and her eyes filled with a rush of worry you’d never seen before.

‘No matter what.’ She muttered. And you nodded. She didn’t know yet, but she was going to be a godmother soon.

.

You turned back to let yourself into the apartment. Your hand was shaking as you gripped the door handle. That recurring image of Wanda lying bleeding on the floor flitted through your mind.

You opened the door, fearing your worst nightmare. You held your breath.

Your first and only thought when you saw her, was that she was safe.

Wanda was sleeping in a chair, somehow sitting half upright. It looked uncomfortable. If her eyes had been open she’d have seen you enter, obviously having fallen asleep facing the door.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. 

Your mind chanted the only thing you’d prayed for in the last two days.

You moved wordlessly into the room, only knowing you wanted to touch her. To feel her warm and pressed against you.

Your hand grazed her arm softly. Wanda’s eyes opened instantly at the touch. She gave a small gasp at the sight of you.

‘I’m back.’ You said unnecessarily, trying to remember how to smile.

Wanda’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sob. Her cries were horrifyingly familiar to you. You knelt in front of her, trying to block out the sound automatically. Your hands gripped her thighs and your lips touched her belly, pressing a kiss there. 

You tried to remind yourself of reality.

Wanda’s hands gripped your shoulders, and you looked back up to her teary face.

‘Thank God.’ She mumbled, shifting forward in her seat. You rose to stand as she did the same, catching her in an embrace as she fell into your arms.

‘They wouldn’t tell me anything.’ She mumbled into your shirt.

 ‘Oh God, I thought they didn’t know how to tell me -.’ Wanda’s words trailed off into another round of sobs. 

You focused on the feeling of having her in your arms.

‘It was just a mission that ran long.’ You soothed, feeling her hot damp tears soak through your shirt. Wanda’s fingers clung to your shirt. 

‘You didn’t text me back.’ She whimpered. The aching familiarity of the sound reminded you all over again.

‘I wanted to.’ You promised, tears starting to run again down your own cheeks.

‘Are you okay?’ You had to ask, the fear of everything still eating you up inside. ‘And the baby?’

Wanda moved back in your hold, eyes searching yours. 

‘We’re fine.’ She whispered to you softly and you saw the tear tracks staining her face. ‘All we needed was you.’

You nodded dumbly, swallowing the hot lump in your throat.

Wanda’s fingers slid into your hair and she pulled your face to hers.

Her lips were soft, tasting a little of salt after all the tears. Her warmth was familiar, her touch held you safe.

You were home.

‘I’ll always come back.’ You mumbled a moment later against her lips, knowing now how difficult that promise was. 

‘No matter what.’

[please-destroy]

River

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

.

There were two of you. You knew that from the start. You did not ask about her.

You were in love. You wanted to be.

When she took your hand, her fingers would thread slowly with yours. Your heart beat stronger with her gentle touch. You ignored the cool metal of her wedding band.

You pretended that no one else loved her like you did.

Her lips were always rougher than they looked. You lived for the feel of them on your skin. 

Sometimes, she told you about her wife. Only in passing, only in reference to their shared life. Mentions of weekend trips and dinners after work.

At first, you listened eagerly. Naive and envious in the same breath, you longed for a life just like it. Most embarrassingly, you started to hope for it. You remembered small details purposefully, how she always forgot to wear sunscreen, that she hated the stress of driving to new places. 

You didn’t ask her to choose you, not yet. But, now she was with you in your daydreams.

.

Months passed like water pouring out. You let each one wash over you.

She rented an apartment in the city just for you to share. Soon, it felt more like home than your own cheap rental. 

You found yourself on your lunch breaks at the cafe, living for her short texts, laughing at her snarky complaints. 

In the evenings, her nails scraped through your hair and you felt alive. 

Winter froze the city but you’d never felt warmer. 

She saw you the day after Christmas. You’d already decorated a small tree in the apartment. Her long dark hair sparkled under the strings of lights that you’d hung. She smiled with a special kind of relief when you told her about the takeout that you’d ordered. 

You listened to her quiet murmurings about the exhausting holiday season trapped with a woman who only drained her.

She gave you a watch that felt too expensive to sit on your wrist. You glanced down at it while you ate your takeout, feeling unspeakably special.

You gave her polaroids that you’d been very shy to pose for. 

She left the next morning, extra early to ensure she was on time for some obligation at her wife’s work.

You lay an extra hour, tangled up in the sheets, realising that you didn’t know who you were without her.

She had flooded your veins, watering down whatever had made you up before. You decided that you liked it.

She called you on New Year’s Eve; she’d bailed on some party just to speak to you. You could hear the frustration simmering in her tone. You ached at her unhappiness, but you also thrived on the feeling of being wanted by her. That you could be her place to turn to. 

At last, she said the words that you’d been praying to hear.

She was ready to end her marriage. 

The new year began with fresh anticipation. 

.

January ended and nothing had changed. 

.

You tried to be patient, waiting for her to tell you about divorce papers or formal separations.

You saw her more than ever in that sacred apartment. But, the precious lingering moments started to feel sluggish. You felt like you were on the edge of something real. You awaited the promised vacations, the shared domestic life, your own evening dates in fancy restaurants. 

The delay made you feel more stained by everything you’d done together. Reality began to feel heavier. 

In the evenings with her, you’d curl in her arms and let the white sheets take away the sin of it all. Slowly, in those quiet moments together,  she started to tell you all the details of her marriage. 

The words seemed unstoppable, unflinching in their honesty. At first, you felt proud that she could confide in you.

She listed the reasons that she’d strayed, the reasons that she’d found you.

The abstract wife who’d never seemed real, now became increasingly formed.

‘Natasha’ started to haunt your dreams.

You heard bitter stories about Natasha’s crippling fear of intimacy, the impact it had on everyone close to her. How frustrating it was. The way she distrusted simple kindness. The holidays she had ruined with her petty arguments. Her insecurities that never seemed to go away. 

Natasha’s motives seemed twisted, illogical, cruel, as you were told them. The stories seemed like bad fairy tales but you listened patiently to each one.

She continued to confide in you. Stories from years ago and moments from her day to day. You waited for the inevitable conclusion to be reached, for the logical choice to separate from the villain in every tale. 

All you seemed to get were more bitter stories.

.

You started to feel like a stone embedded in a riverbed, caught in the constant stream of water but never quite dislodged enough to break free.

You started hearing the bias in her stories, the cruelty of her tone. You started seeing a side of her that you didn’t want to.

More than anything, you found yourself starting to root for another woman who could only hate you. 

Natasha was so much stronger than either of you. 

Snippets of description lingered in your head, even when you were alone. 

Sometimes, sitting in your own apartment, you tried to imagine what shade of green Natasha’s eyes were. If she was really so tiresome or just not as self-interested as her wife.

You’d spent half a year living for the moments in that apartment. For warm towels wrapping around you, soft sheets and tangled limbs. The fleeting comfort of being held from behind, warm kisses on your bare shoulders.

You’d felt precious, like a gift meant for her. Someone to be cherished.

Now, you looked at yourself, staring back in the foggy bathroom mirror and knew that you were unloved.

You realised that your eyes were empty. You had stopped trying to be someone you liked.

You felt drained and understood at last that you were being used. .

You realised that you didn’t covet another woman’s wife. You didn’t covet anything at all.

You felt like an empty vessel, now filled to the brim with someone else’s bitterness.

You wanted yourself back. You broke free.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from you finished something that should never have been started. 

You didn’t give her a reason. You couldn’t think how to justify yourself. How to explain that you hated the way she talked about her wife. How you were starting to hate yourself. That her adultery was suddenly unforgivable.

You felt like an accomplice to something gut-twisting.

.

It was the precipice of summer now. You blocked her number when texts and calls continued to flood your phone.

You took extra shifts at the cafe. You’d grown distant from friends during the winter and now you tried your best to make amends. 

Each apology was painful and awkward, forcing you to confront your own selfishness when close friends gave you long overdue life updates. 

When you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were brighter. Every new morning, you hated yourself a little less.

You started walking more, trying to fill time that had been saved for her. You took detours to and from work, listening to thudding music through cheap earphones. You tried to leave your mistakes behind. Putting distance between you and your regrets.

You couldn’t walk away from the guilt. Thoughts of Natasha were inescapable, regret took a heavy seat on your heart.

.

It was a Saturday afternoon, simmering with uncomfortable city heat. 

You walked back to your apartment lethargically, sweat sticking your shirt to your back.

There was a woman standing in the dim hallway, just outside your door. 

Fear pinned you to the spot. The world moved in slow motion as she turned to face you.

Her red hair was braided back. Her jaw seemed tight, but her lips looked too soft for words. Anger flickered behind her green eyes. 

‘I think you know my wife.’ She spoke clearly, the crisp words slicing through the air between you.

‘Fuck.’ You whispered, doused in sudden icy panic.

.

You knew you were a homewrecker. You hadn’t realised that it was an Avenger’s home.

Your stomach sank through the floor as you warily regarded her at the end of the hallway. Natasha Romanoff was capable of anything. You’d heard rumours that she was super human. 

She was also hypnotising with her casual beauty. 

Her eyes were a deeper green than the woman you’d imagined. 

Silence stretched between you. You waited in fear.

Finally, Natasha nodded her head toward your front door.

The pointed reminder of social etiquette threw you off. You huffed an embarrassed breath as you hurried forward to unlock it.

You held the door open and Natasha walked past you. You caught the way she held her breath as she passed by you. You felt her disgust like a harsh blow to the chest. You reminded yourself it was the least you deserved.

An apology burned in your chest, desperate to be spoken aloud. 

Standing in the centre of your shitty small apartment, Natasha turned back to you. Her diamond stud earrings stood out comically in the dingy room. 

‘I hear we are in love with the same person.’ She commented, looking you straight in the eye. Her hands were buried deep in her leather jacket’s pockets, but you could make out the clenched fists. 

Her tense frame seemed sharply vulnerable. She was much smaller in person.

‘I think we’ve known different people.’ You replied cautiously, sympathy beginning to build in your chest. 

‘You need to leave her alone.’ Natasha bit back and her eyes flashed suddenly.

‘We’re not-’ You stumbled over your words, rushing to correct her impression. ‘We ended it. Everything.’ You cleared your throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Natasha blinked with clear surprise; she ignored your apology completely. 

‘What do you mean?’ She asked, voice dropping unexpectedly. Your gaze lowered to the ground, hot shame burned through you.

‘It lasted six months and ended three weeks ago.’ You answered factually, hating the taste of the truth. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You added again uselessly.

Natasha’s expression closed off and for a moment she was very still. Then, she moved suddenly across your apartment. The heel of her hand slammed against your wall, leaving a clear dent. You watched her forehead tilt forward, leaning heavily against the old wallpaper.  You heard her rapid breathing. Every inhale was drawn shakily. 

Your next apology died on your lips. Tears burned in your eyes. You hovered in awful limbo in the centre of the room.

Slowly, Natasha faced you again. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she wasn’t crying. She swallowed once. Her gaze dropped and she stared down at your wrist. Distress flickered behind her eyes.

You followed her stare to the wristwatch that had stopped feeling special a long time ago. Wordlessly, Natasha reached up to her earrings, undoing them one after the other. She threw them with unerring aim onto your side table.

‘There.’ She murmured, sounding broken in ways you couldn’t comprehend. ‘You might as well have all my Christmas presents.’

Nausea rose like a tidal wave as you tried to swallow down your disgust.

‘Oh God.’ You whispered in horror, unclasping the watch and throwing it onto the nearby sofa.

Natasha’s focus returned to you. Her lip twitched with a strange, resigned half smile.

‘You’re not special.’ She commented neutrally. ‘And neither am I.’

You shook your head with automatic fervour.

‘You’re a superhero.’ You countered quietly, unable to meet her eyes all over again.

Natasha’s hand brushed her cheek harshly and you realised that she’d started crying. 

‘I wreck everything.’ She muttered harshly and you recognised her honesty as another sign of your irrelevance to her. ‘Everything I touch, I ruin.’

‘You’re an Avenger.’ You tried to speak up again. You’d been fucking her wife, who’d been complaining whilst she’d been saving the world. Everything was so twisted. 

‘They just point me at the right targets.’ Natasha whispered. ‘It’s what I was made to do. I’m not made for anything else. I can’t even make a fucking marriage work.’

It felt like pieces of the room were falling down around you. The woman you had no right to speak to was imploding quietly at the edge of it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You whispered one last time.

The apology seemed to snap Natasha out of her misery. She blinked away the tears clinging to her eyelashes and straightened up.

‘I don’t even know why I bothered you.’ She admitted tiredly as her hands slipped back into her pockets. You caught the reddened palm of the one that had hit your wall. ‘I should go.’

As she took a step toward the door, you took a step forward too.

‘Your earrings.’ You began, eyes darting unsurely to the watch that you realised was also technically hers. 

Natasha caught your hesitation and sudden exhaustion rinsed her face clean.

‘They’re not worth saving.’ She murmured in dismissal.

‘Don’t tell anyone about this.’ Natasha added in a tighter, controlled voice, before shutting the door with abrupt finality. 

Your next hesitation was short lived.

‘Wait.’ You called suddenly, hurriedly following her out into the hallway.

Natasha turned around at your voice. Fresh, private tears stained her cheeks.

‘Can I give you my number, just in case?’ You asked nervously, hand already reaching in your pocket for your phone.

‘Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?’ Natasha bit out so harshly that you flinched.

‘Because who else can you talk to about this?’ You retorted with sudden certainty.

Natasha’s mouth shut abruptly.

You reeled off your number aloud, Natasha didn’t write it down but she stayed stoically until you’d finished speaking.

When you returned to your apartment, you sat on your sofa and stared up at the cracked ceiling, thinking about the mess you’d made. The pain you’d inflicted on someone else.

Natasha’s eyes were going to haunt you forever.

.

Natasha called you three days later. You answered the unknown number unsurely. You were on your lunch break, sitting on a step just behind the heavy fire exit door. The warm breeze barely made the summer air tolerable.

Your throat closed at her voice. 

‘There’s definitely someone else.’ She told you, without preamble. You felt sick, you realised how little you wanted to have this conversation. You felt like you owed her everything.

‘How do you know?’ You asked, forcing your voice to be even.

‘How do you think I knew about you?’ Natasha retorted, voice deceptively cool. ‘Did you think that she’s subtle?’

You stood up, beginning to pace with the phone pressed to your ear. 

‘Are you going to confront her?’ You asked, wondering if she was looking for courage.

‘No-’ Natasha’s voice faltered obviously, as if your question had thrown her. ‘No, it’s not that simple.’

‘She’s being cruel.’ You whispered, thinking guiltily back to the horrible things that Natasha’s wife had said about her. 

‘I can make this work. Natasha replied, voice cracking. ‘I just need another chance. I just need to-’

‘You can’t push all this bad shit down, that’s not balance.’ You heard yourself advising in a low voice.  ‘You’re the only person here who hasn’t done anything wrong.’ 

Natasha hung up the phone.

You spent another afternoon filled with regret.

.

The next evening, she was standing outside your door again. You tried not to be relieved to see her again. 

There was something laughably put together about her professional outfit. The black suit jacket was pristine. 

You let her in this time without hesitation.

It felt like a movie cliche. Natasha sat tensely on your sofa. You sat nervously beside her. She put her head in her hands and you watched the way her jacket went taut against the curve of her spine. 

‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Natasha whispered into her hands. ‘I’m so ashamed.’

Your heart shattered silently. You didn’t understand. 

‘This isn’t your fault.’ You murmured softly.

Natasha adjusted, crossing her arms tightly as she sat up straighter. 

‘I promised her that I’d get better.’ Natasha told you, in a voice dripping with self loathing. Her tone was too cold, you found yourself resisting the urge to shrink away from her.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked hesitantly.

The line of Natasha’s jaw tensed before she answered. Her long straight hair was loose, obscuring her face slightly. Her eyes flickered to you and you remembered how little she must trust you.

You lifted your hands in mock surrender.

‘What I meant to ask.’ You corrected hastily. ‘Is, do you want a drink?’

Real surprise flooded Natasha’s face at your words. Still, you didn’t miss the way her shoulders relaxed at the turn in conversation. She swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding wordlessly. 

You left for the kitchen, returning with an unopened bottle of vodka.

Natasha took it silently, unscrewing the cap between her thumb and forefinger. 

‘I hate that I’m here.’ She admitted after lifting the bottle to her lips. 

“I hate what I did.’ You admitted readily too.

‘Stop saying that.’ She advised suddenly, twisting the gold band on her finger. ‘It doesn’t make anyone feel better, except you.’

You nodded, feeling embarrassed.

‘When I told my boss that I was getting married. He said it wasn’t something I could do well.’ She confessed suddenly. Natasha made you feel invisible, her eyes skated over you as she spoke.

You didn’t matter to her. You had no right to.

‘Pain only makes us stronger.’ She breathed softly and the sound filled the hesitations between her words. ‘I don’t know how to deserve her but I have to keep trying.’

‘She doesn’t deserve you Natasha.’ You hated yourself completely. You knew she couldn’t hear you, that your opinion held no weight and it was your own fault.

Natasha took another drink from the vodka bottle.

‘I get stuck behind these walls in my head.’ She mumbled in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t be normal.’

A lump rose in your chest. Her words were unbearably sad. 

Your hand moved carefully to rest in the space between her shoulder blades. Natasha flinched away sharply.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She told you angrily and you felt yourself truly want to die.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered, embarrassed tears filling your eyes.

The air was stifling as you fought to keep your breathing even.

‘Every time I look at you, I think about her fucking you.’ Natasha continued, anger flowing through her, uncontrolled. She slammed the bottle down on the side table and fear iced up the back of your neck. 

‘Do you think I just fucking forget about that?’ She asked cuttingly, getting to her feet.

There was an awful pause. Then, with sudden clarity, you felt brave. You owed Natasha everything, no words could tear you down lower.

‘Do you forget when you’re with her?’ You asked, standing up too.

‘You have a wife who is breaking your heart.’ You heard your voice growing stronger and you barely recognised yourself. ‘Do you think she loves you? Do you know what she says about you?’

Natasha’s face went ashen.

‘You are better than her.’ You continued fiercely. ‘I can’t forget the things I did either. The only person who can live with themself is her.’

The silence that met your words was pervasive. You could hear your refrigerator humming in the other room.

.

Natasha ran her hand through her hair, leaving it messier than before. Another piece of her collected image fell apart.

‘I’m trying.’ She muttered brokenly. ‘I’m trying so hard.’

‘It’s not your fault that she’s hurting you.’ You countered quietly, feeling self-conscious after your outburst.

Natasha gave you a strange look, filled with twisting guilt that you recognised too familiarly. 

‘It is.’ She whispered in a cracked voice. 

She sank back down onto your old sofa. 

‘Fuck.’ She muttered, rubbing her face briefly with her hands. ‘I love her. I do love her.’ She started quietly, twisting her wedding band harshly.

‘But, everything is hard.’ Natasha confessed, staring down at her lap. ‘And I asked her to be patient with me, but I can’t figure out how to make myself change.’

You watched Natasha with bated breath. It felt cooler suddenly, like a breeze had finally found its way into your shitty apartment.

‘Don’t fucking change.’ You determined firmly and Natasha turned to stare at you in shock. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ Your confidence came from a certainty in your chest. 

‘There’s nothing wrong with how you love people.’ You continued. ‘Your love has saved so many fucking lives.’

Natasha watched you like an unsure child.

You felt stronger, closer to a freedom that only her happiness could bring.

‘You’re not failing by being yourself.’ You continued to assert. ‘You can’t be.’

‘I really do love her.’ Natasha murmured and you realised that she was looking at you differently now.

You hoped she knew that you were on her side.

‘I know.’ You reassured her softly. ‘Love shouldn’t be this hard.’ 

‘Believe me, I know.’ You added in a mutter under your breath. 

A short laugh left Natasha unexpectedly.

You fought a tiny smile as the air settled, drenched in unspeakable relief.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from Natasha finished something that should never have been started. 

She didn’t need to give a reason. But, she did.

She explained how much she hated the way that her wife talked to her. She wrote that her adultery was unforgivable.

At last, you felt like an accomplice to something good.

.

It was autumn when you next saw Natasha. 

She walked into your cafe like she was a regular. A hush fell over the busy establishment. Whispers of Black Widow circulating faster than the caffeine did.

Her hands rested on the counter and you noted the absence of her wedding ring. Natasha caught your gaze and she smiled simply.

‘When’s your break?’ She asked, as you began filling the coffee cup.

You sat together, on the step just behind the heavy fire exit door. Natasha’s shoulder was pressed against yours. The cool air was made pleasant by your warm coat.

Natasha told you that things were easier now. 

She had better friends than she’d ever realised. She told you about Friday movie nights with some people from work. She told you about the cat that had moved into her new apartment, only a few weeks after she had.

You sipped on your coffee as you listened, not tasting anything except its warmth. 

You asked carefully if she still spoke to her ex-wife. 

Natasha shook her head and gave a gentle laugh. Her hair caught the autumn light and you realised suddenly that it was made up of many shades of red.

Before she left, Natasha gave you her number. 

.

You didn’t text her. 

Natasha was a better person than you. She was brave, strong and kind. 

You’d been granted more forgiveness than you deserved. 

Natasha’s eyes finally stopped haunting your dreams.

.

It was the start of winter when Natasha called you. She invited you to the next Friday movie night with her friends, she was hosting it at her apartment. You didn’t realise how easy it was to say yes, until you did.

The streets were icy when you walked over that evening. Natasha wore an oversized wool jumper and leggings when she answered the door. 

She’d invited you earlier than anyone else. She offered you a glass of wine and introduced you to a black cat that slunk away from you in distaste. 

There were various framed photos placed around the living room. Natasha was smiling in every single one. 

More people arrived and soon the small gathering felt like a party. 

Natasha introduced you to each new guest as an old friend. You caught the way her work friends exchanged curious glances. 

More wine was poured and soon a cheesy romcom occupied the room’s attention.

Her living room now held more people in it than there were comfortable seats and so Natasha sat on the floor, just in front of you.

Somewhere, between the wine and the easy laughter, and Natasha’s back pressed comfortably against your legs, you started braiding a piece of her hair.

You watched the way Natasha smiled to herself, pink cheeks from the alcohol.

.

The new year began better than the last.

[please-destroy]

First Fall of Snow

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

.

‘Downstairs in ten minutes.’ Natasha walked right past you with her matter of fact greeting.

You held your tongue but your gaze caught Tony’s knowing one. You rolled your eyes at his smirk, every morning was the same.

You kept quiet as you stood up from the breakfast table. Your muscles ached with anticipation for the inevitably exhausting sparring match.

It was just a regular Tuesday.

You never thought you’d be used to such a rigorous regime.

.

You’d first been identified for the Avengers’ Initiative after you’d tipped off the authorities about a human trafficking ring in New York. 

It had been the scariest moment of your life. Your sixth sense for reading other people’s intentions was something that you’d always wanted to keep hidden. You were terrified of what might happen if the wrong people found out.

You couldn’t explain how you’d learned about the criminal gang. You’d hesitated to even call the police.

In the end, you’d left the anonymous tip and intended to leave the city too.

A nondescript van had been waiting for you at the airport instead. 

Director Fury had recruited you right then, on the drive back into the city. 

You’d been wary of the prickling warning signs that even his presence gave you. You’d reminded yourself that complicated intentions were not always bad ones.

Instead, you’d focused on Agent Hill, sitting across from you in the van. Her piercing stare was steady and integrity radiated out from her. 

You decided that there were worse organisations to join.

It had taken Shield less than a day to move you into the Avengers Tower. 

It had taken Natasha Romanoff just over a week to return from her mission and take over your training.

.

The first time you saw her, you were playing video games in the shared living area of the Tower. At her entrance, you automatically stood up from the sofa.

Her hair was braided neatly back. Her gym clothes were non-descript. 

She was so beautiful that it stung.

Natasha’s stare was assessing. She asked you a question. You watched her lips move as you forgot how to process the English language.

Tony muttered something rude from his seat to the side of you. 

‘Downstairs in ten.’ Natasha simply announced, leaving you to scramble back to your room and change into some gym clothes. 

Everything about Natasha’s entrance felt purposeful. 

You wondered if she was careful with her intentions around you, or if she really lived in such a steady state of calm. 

You were already impressed before you’d even walked into the gym. 

When you entered, Natasha looked small from across the room. More ironically, she looked harmless too.

She had a knee pressed against your throat in the first twenty seconds.

A sixth sense was definitely useful but your lack of defensive skills was a glaring weakness.

You quickly learned that Natasha Romanoff did not tolerate weakness.

.

That year, you watched the first New York City snowfall through the highrise windows of your new home. 

You also received purpling bruises as if they were early Christmas gifts.

Your life stopped being your own. Your diet was prescribed. Your training was exact.

By the New Year, you were exhausted, tired and painfully aware of your lack of ability.

You considered quitting the team every time that you walked into another sparring session. Great opportunities were only great if you wanted to have them. You’d never wanted to be a fighter.

.

There was one morning when you took an unexpected hit from Natasha. She caught you unexpectedly from the side and you tumbled sideways, slamming into the hardwood floor unceremoniously. 

You lay on the ground, trying to catch your breath as you watched Natasha walk away with some otherworldly grace to the side of the gym. 

Your gaze landed on the door at the farside of the room. You felt the sudden urge to walk out. All this pain and your progress was hardly noticeable. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted to do more than leave.

For the first time, you felt Natasha’s intentions shift in front of you.

‘Go on then.’ She called out before taking a gulp from her water bottle. 

It had taken nearly six months for her to break a sweat whilst sparring with you. Your eyes caught on the wisps of hair that escaped her braids. They were curling slightly as heat radiated from her. She seemed more beautiful now than ever.

‘If you can’t take it, then you can leave.’ Natasha continued, voice openly challenging. Her eyebrow raised daringly as she stared at you.

It was a front. Your sixth sense pricked as Natasha’s disappointment filled the room.

You thought of all the lives that you could have saved. All the bad intentions from stranger’s that you’d chosen to ignore.

You got to your feet slowly. 

Agent Romanoff could walk through fire unscathed. You wanted to be that brave. 

You owed it to the people who had died because of your hesitation.

The feeling of Natasha’s satisfaction was overwhelming. The only hint of it on her face was the smallest of smirks.

It was hard not to have a crush.

Natasha was unshakeable. You were never good at feeling steady.

You were careful not to assume even a friendship with her. 

It had happened naturally with the other Avengers but with Natasha there was a tension in the air. 

Maybe, it was because she’d seen you at your least competent.

Maybe it was because you wanted Natasha to like you far too much to risk the rejection. 

.

Soon enough, the summer sunshine returned to New York. You watched the trees change in Central Park.

You buried your feelings. You worked harder in every workout. 

Training started to feel like all you had, days merged together. You let it be enough. You lived for the brief cracks in Natasha’s calm mask. The flicker of a smile, the passing of a water bottle when you’d finally earned a break.

.

Somehow, living with the Avengers, each day felt endless but whole months could fly by.

The rhythm of meeting Natasha in the gym was second nature to you now. You came to breakfast already in your workout clothes. 

You took the employee staircase at the back of the building down to the gym, learning to shave a minute from your journey time.

Natasha had demanded high performance from you since the day she’d met you. Finally, you were learning how to give it.

.

It was as you hurried past the large window on the staircase landing, that you saw the first snowflakes flutter down over the city.

Your heart stopped at the sight. You wondered if the seasons could really change so fast.

You paused on the staircase and gripped the bannister. You saw the well-defined muscles in your own arm tighten.

Deja vu coated you like its own fresh flurry of snow. You remembered the aching bruises that you’d had the last time you’d seen a view like this.

You felt peaceful and victorious as you stared out. Your shallow breaths misted the cold window. 

You let yourself lose track of time.

You jolted when you heard the swinging door shut below you. You looked over the bannister. 

Natasha stared back up at you, arms folded in an imitation of impatience. 

‘Ten minutes.’ She reminded you, as if it was still your first day. 

You smiled.

Maybe it was because of the way her short ponytail bounced as she craned her neck upward.

Maybe it was because of the fresh snow on the windowsill and the feeling in your veins like you might finally have made something of yourself.

Maybe it was because nothing sounded better than spending another morning with Natasha.

You smiled wider. 

You realised that you couldn’t stop. Your cheeks stung with the electric buzz of happiness.

You felt an answering ripple in Natasha’s calm exterior. 

Confusion rolled through her as her head tilted curiously. You saw her crossed arms tighten. 

‘I can’t believe it’s been a year.’ You said softly. ‘Thank you Natasha, for everything.’

Natasha blinked twice and her eyes seemed impossibly wide from your higher up position. 

She shrugged and her voice rasped when she next spoke.

‘You’re the one who did all the work.’ Natasha reminded you. ‘You’re the one who didn’t give up.’

You didn’t know how to acknowledge all the credit that she was shrugging off.

You started to walk down the rest of the stairs.

‘Sometimes, I think about all the things I could have done.’ You confessed suddenly. ‘All the lives I could have saved if I’d been prepared before.’

Natasha’s breath caught and you felt a wave of shock shatter through her emanating confidence. 

‘And now, I’ll never have to hesitate again.’ You continued, as you closed the distance between you. It was warmer down here, standing away from the large window. 

Impossibly, Natasha felt closer now than she’d ever been before. 

You paused as her arms slowly unfolded and her hands moved to her sides. You caught the brief movement of her fingernails digging into her palms.

‘I know that exact feeling.’ Natasha rasped out. 

Her voice was a whisper and you focused on her lips as you tried to catch every word. 

Her hands tightened into fists again.

‘There was this place called the Red Room.’ She told you with the same tightness. ‘It took me years to end it.’

The air was filled with brokenness. For the first time, Natasha seemed fragile. Her eyes darted between you and the bright light of the window. 

Every instinct told you what to do next. You still paused. 

You’d learned how to fight with Natasha. You’d taken blows and bruises nearly every time you’d sparred together. Never had you been so hesitant as right now. 

Your fingers slipped carefully in between her tight ones. You slowly loosened her fists, rubbing out the tension in her knuckles. 

Natasha’s intentions shifted one more time. 

Your own attraction mirrored hers. Your eyes focused back to her lips.

Sudden shyness prickled at the back of your neck. It could only be Natasha’s.

You froze.

Natasha’s jaw clenched as she caught your reaction. 

You realised how exposed you must make her feel.

Natasha’s eyes darted away again for a split second. Embarrassment filled you.

You followed her gaze and caught sight of the snow falling outside. 

Your shoulders loosened. You’d spent a whole year stepping out of your comfort zone. You knew how to be brave now. You knew because of Natasha.

You gently interlaced your fingers with Natasha’s again and gave a soft squeeze. You took a step back toward the staircase.

‘Come on.’ You said. ‘I want you to see the snow.’

Natasha followed you readily up the stairs to the landing with the large window. 

You looked over the city together, your shoulders touching. Neither of you spoke.

Natasha’s breath started to fog up the window pane. 

You turned to face her slowly. Natasha’s cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were wide and she looked younger.

Hesitation gave way to anticipation. 

Your hand touched her waist.

She was gentler than you expected when she pressed her lips against yours. 

You felt her happiness like it was your own.

[please-destroy]

The 26th of December

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count 4k

.

You first met at the Shield base. She was ahead of you in the cafeteria line.

Natasha was alone. You’d never seen her before and you guessed she was a new agent. She was slightly jittery. She held herself unnaturally still but her eyes darted around the room. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. 

Her red hair was tied back in two perfect braids, her pale face was fresh except for dark shadows under her eyes. You stood next to her in the line, holding a plastic tray and feeling like a school-child all over again. 

Natasha held an apple in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Her grip made the plastic crackle. 

‘You know, it’s not so bad here.’ You mused aloud after a minute, enjoying the way her head whipped around at the sound of your voice.

Her breath hitched and then she regained herself. You watched her expression move immediately from panic to calm. You took note of the emotional control. Not a typical rookie agent. 

‘Maybe for you. They’re training me with Robin Hood.’ She answered after a beat.

‘Oh.’ You pretended to consider. ‘Well then, I guess you’re fucked.’

Her answering laugh rasped through you like an electric current.

.

You ended up sitting at the same table,whilst you ate. Natasha was a mix of conflicting signals. Her smile was easy but it rarely reflected in her eyes. Her shoulders were loose, but her posture was stiff.

She ate her apple slowly. You tried to make small talk between bites of your own meal. You started to hear the trace of a Russian accent in her short responses. 

Natasha was down to the apple core before she told you anything about herself. Even then, it was just fragments. She’d made a deal with Agent Barton, she’d held up her end of the bargain, now she was here.

You didn’t press for more details. You didn’t think you could.

Instead, you pushed your plate to the centre of the table and gestured to the untouched fries.

‘Well.’ You said lightly. ‘Maybe this ridiculous place can be your home.’

Natasha’s lips twisted into something too complicated to be a smile.  

‘I don’t think I know what home is.’

You glanced at her hand, sneaking to grab a fry. You grinned.

‘Don’t worry.’ You promised. ‘It’s not that complicated.’

.

Conversation with Natasha was like trying to fill in a blank sheet of paper. Sometimes, you felt like your threw conversation topics into the air, trying to guess what she wanted to talk about.

It was easy to spend time with her. Despite different routines and training, you made a habit of eating together.

The habit became easy.

Every mealtime, you found yourselves together at the same time and same place. 

.

Through her first months at Shield, you watched Natasha’s demeanour change. 

Her smile became easy with others. She didn’t tense up in crowds anymore. When your friends came occasionally to sit at your table, she always seemed to welcome the company. You couldn’t tell for sure if she liked them but she never seemed to hesitate when she found herself in a group. 

She definitely preferred socialising with you there. You knew she’d declined a few bigger get-togethers with other agents. 

You thought maybe she liked that you’d known her so long. Longer than anyone except Agent Barton.

Her eyes sparkled whenever she started talking about an inside joke between the two of you. If people were around, she’d meet your gaze daring you to share the story behind it.

Your mind still lingered on what she’d said about home, on the first day that you'd met her.

You wondered what she thought about it now.

.

Every so often, you’d catch the mask slipping. A wince after training, when she sat down at the table. A worried expression that smoothed itself immediately into an easy smile. A momentary stormy look aimed at nothing in particular.

The shadows that lingered under her eyes, darkening and fading with a cyclicality that worried you. 

Sometimes, she’d steal a piece of food from your plate and give you a look too fatigued to be playful.

It was after one of those looks that you invited her back to your rooms at the Shield base.

You had to finish some work, you told her, but you’d like the company anyway.

It felt obvious, like a natural next step that should’ve happened months ago.

You couldn’t help lighting up inside when she said yes. 

.

That evening you typed on your laptop from the sofa, enjoying absentmindedly Natasha's exploration of your space. Her casualness was undercut by tiny hesitations. 

She wandered in and out your kitchen like she was on a guided tour, you heard muffled noises and knew she was rustling through your rarely used spice rack. She wandered back through to your living room, and you tried not to smile obviously when she touched the edge of your fluffy rug experimentally with her foot. She studied the cushions on your sofa and the house plant by the door. You watched her finger trail down the spines of several books on your bookshelf. 

Every time she moved on from something, you waited for her to finally settle. To sit next to you on the sofa, to switch on the TV, or start to talk. 

It was when you heard the rubber duck squeak in your bathroom, that you finally understood. Why would she know how to make herself at home?

‘Natasha.’ You called, looking up from your laptop screen. Natasha’s head popped around a doorway.

You smiled automatically and watched her match it with a smile of her own.

‘You know, you can do whatever you want here’ You told her, tone light but still serious. ‘Mi casa es tu casa.’

Natasha rolled her eyes. You knew then that you’d been too forward. You’d acknowledged her discomfort but she hadn’t wanted you to see it in the first place.

You didn’t feel sorry. You meant what you said. You rose from the sofa to make you both some coffee. 

You touched her shoulder with absentminded affection as you walked past. Natasha went still at the action. You turned before you entered the kitchen, wanting to double check if the touch was okay.

You watched Natasha smile secretly down at the ground. She lifted her head, feeling your gaze and rolled her eyes again. Her smile only got stronger. 

You walked into the kitchen feeling lighter than air. When you returned five minutes later, Natasha was sitting cross legged on your floor. 

She gave you a small smirk when you handed her the coffee mug. You sat on the sofa, just to the side of her. You watched silently as she ripped blank pages out of one of your old notebooks. Her fingers worked deftly as she made snowflakes, origami shapes and chains of paper dolls. 

You watched her with a mix of awe and something undefinable. You thought about home. How the definition of it was starting to change for you too.

After some time, you couldn’t help but reach over, picking up the red biro pen that was lying on the coffee table. Natasha startled then relaxed readily, when you moved to sit beside her. She watched as you messily coloured in the hair of the nearest paper doll. The bright red was almost obnoxious.

Natasha elbowed you lightly when you scribbled ‘Romanoff’ on the doll’s dress.

When Natasha left, you hung the paper dolls above the TV.

.

Agent Barton told you about Natasha’s dilemma before she did. You’d never spoken before but when he caught up with you in the hallway, he addressed you by your first name. It took you a moment to realise that he knew exactly who you were. It turned out, Natasha talked a lot about you. 

Natasha’s annual vacation time was mandatory and had to be taken, but she hadn’t booked any of it. Clint didn’t need to explain why. You’d known Natasha for nearly six months now and she’d never spoken about anyone except the people she’d met since joining Shield. 

Clint lay the problem out matter of factly. 

Natasha had nowhere to go and she didn’t seem to want to leave.

It was the easiest solution you’d ever come up with.

.

You found Natasha in weapons training. She was easy to spot with her usual red braid falling down between her shoulder blades. Her arms were raised as she aimed a gun. Ears covered and focus exact. 

She still spotted you almost immediately. 

You waved awkwardly as she lowered her gun and removed her ear defenders. 

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

Natasha’s head tilted. At first, you thought she hadn’t understood the question. It took a second, before you realised that she didn’t understand why you were asking. She thought it was obvious that she didn’t have plans.

‘Maybe we could rent a place for the vacation time.’ You suggested. ‘We could go somewhere snowier than here.’

Natasha watched you for a long moment and then you watched her lips life into a small smile.

‘I like snow.’ She said at last. 

.

The next few weeks passed slowly. A new anticipation crept into your life. You rented a cabin in the middle of nowhere for the holidays. In theory, it was the perfect background for an idyllic snowy Christmas. Trees surrounded it on three sides, it was one step away from a true nature retreat. 

When you described the vacation home to Natasha. She’d just nodded seriously, like you were giving her a rundown of details for a future mission. You tried not to let her reaction worry you, she was relatively quiet for the rest of the day.

The next day, Natasha joined you for breakfast with obvious intent. Before you'd had time to say hello. Natasha asked you about the clothes and other essentials you were planning to pack. You found yourself head first into a detailed conversation, full of follow up questions about things like the capacity of your car trunk.

It was then, as she nodded seriously to each of your answers, that you realised. Natasha didn't know what to expect.

The realisation made you feel a sudden sense of responsibility and freedom. Natasha had no expectations for what the holiday could be. But she'd still said yes. It was a good feeling to be trusted.

You observed her sitting across the table. Natasha chewed her lower lip as she thought about her next question. Her fork spun thoughtlessly against her plate.

You realised, that everyone in this place knew either Agent Romanoff or the Black Widow.

You were the only one who knew Natasha.

Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly, her voice came out quieter and she leaned forward slightly. 

‘Could we?’ She hesitated. ‘Should we bring fairy lights? Would that be festive?’

You’d never smiled harder in your life.

‘Yeah.’ You agreed enthusiastically, reaching over to pause her fork mid-twirl. ‘That would be amazing.’

You’d once sat opposite a blank page but now Natasha was a watercolour.

.

The vacation time came at last and together you drove away from the Shield base full of anticipation. 

Natasha was silent, her focus turned to the world passing outside the car window. You fiddled with the radio and tried not to overthink her quietness.

Just over an hour into your drive, you realised that her eyes were sparkling. Another quick glance over to her and you saw the small smile hidden on her lips.

You let some of your excitement trickle back in. You switched the radio to Christmas music and watched her hand quietly tap against her thigh.

Natasha was your best friend. She was starting to become your family. 

You felt your heart squeeze with a new happiness when you heard her deep intake of breath as you drove up to the cabin. The wooden exterior was framed with a thousand golden fairy lights. You’d called the rental agency and asked for a favour. You hadn’t been able to resist.

You watched Natasha’s expression as she stepped out of the car. For the first time, any trace of uncertainty was forgotten. Her wide eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. 

Her foot crunched on the frozen ground and her eyes shot to the snow covered forest floor with a muted joy. You laughed and her gaze found you instead. Her red hair was loose and long, she’d combed out her braids during the car ride. It framed her face prettily. 

Natasha rolled her eyes at your expression but then she started to smile widely.

You held up a finger in a silent request for her to wait a minute before you hurried to the trunk of your car. You fished in your bag for a few moments and retrieved a pair of festive felt reindeer antlers. 

Your face hurt from smiling so hard as you walked back and fixed the pair of antlers onto Natasha’s head. Natasha’s bare fingers reached up and traced the soft material. Her expression was undecided and then it relaxed into another bright smile. For the first time, your heart pounded nervously at her proximity. You’d never seen someone look so beautiful. Natasha moved her head and the bells on the antlers tinkled.

‘Come on.’ You murmured, another persistent smile tugging at your lips. ‘You’ll get cold.’

.

The next few days were illuminating. It became clear just how embedded Natasha’s lifestyle was, as you watched her invent and stick to a new regimented schedule. There was something fascinating about how naturally she followed a routine, even with no real pressure to keep it.

Early morning runs, chopping wood for the stove, yoga, completing stolen work assignments, reading spy novels, undertaking thorough research into unusual topics.

Your schedule was something different. Unlike Natasha, you reverted immediately to a more relaxed way of life, happily shaking off the Shield agent lifestyle. 

You woke later in the day, always after the sun had decidedly risen. You scrounged breakfast from the fridge. You let any passing whim decide your day’s activity. A stroll to find a nearby frozen lake, a sudden urge to make gingerbread.

You realised soon enough that Natasha’s busy schedule was really paper thin. It only took an invitation and she was eager to join yours instead. She told you all about her spy novel when she joined you on your rambling walk to find the frozen lake. She told you about trying to run in the snow outside as she helped with the icing for your gingerbread house. 

That was the other thing that you were starting to notice about Natasha. You’d known her for nearly a year now. You knew you liked her company. You could tell she liked yours. You realised that every minute you spent together only made you want a thousand minutes more.

On the third morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee. You opened your eyes readily, you’d been moments from waking up at your usual time anyway. Natasha cleared her throat and you startled before seeing her standing awkwardly in the doorway. She was holding two mugs of coffee, clearly unsure. 

You smiled automatically at the sight of her. Natasha’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled too. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and she was wearing green winter pyjamas, straight from a cheesy catalogue. 

‘Morning.’ You yawned as you sat up.

‘Morning.’ She echoed, handing you the coffee.

‘You’re the best.’ You mumbled happily, taking a sip.

You felt Natasha hesitate, trying to decide if she should leave. You patted the bedspread beside you. It was an easy invitation. Natasha curled up in the space next to you, hands cupping her mug.

‘I like your pyjamas.’ You said with a smirk.

‘Shut up.’ She said dryly, but you could tell she was pleased. 

‘Very festive.’

.

You drank coffee in silence for a few minutes and then you started to talk. 

At first it was light things, another book she’d just read, how cold it was that morning. 

.

Then the conversation shifted. She started to tell you real things.

Pieces of childhood. The way the tree branches bowed over the walls of her childhood home. The deep chill of Russian winters. Her favourite American Christmas movie. Where she’d been when she first saw it. 

You thought about all the light talking she’d been doing this vacation as you passed your days together. You wondered if she’d been trying to find the courage for this. With every smile or nod from you, the words kept coming from Natasha. Difficult things. Happy memories that lived with an undercurrent of sadness.

You felt a lump in your throat listening to her, wishing you could explain how much you liked hearing her talk like that. How much you liked her.

It was all special.

.

That Christmas Eve, you suggested a drive to the nearest town for supplies. Natasha looked confused but she only smiled and agreed. She didn’t mention your full kitchen pantry and stacked fridge, already full to the brim with enough ingredients for a full Christmas dinner.

This time, she didn’t stare out the car window for the journey. Instead, she played with the radio dials until she found a Christmas song to sing along to. Her quiet singing made your chest tight with an overwhelming kind of feeling.

You pulled up outside a second-hand store. Natasha looked even more confused as she read the sign on the store. You dragged her in with you to pick up the order that you’d called ahead to see if they had in stock.

In the car, Natasha held the DVD of her favourite American Christmas movie like it was her first ever present.

You only pulled the car over one other time. The very last Christmas tree left in the parking lot beside the small hardware store was cheap and hard not to take pity on. 

Together that afternoon, you adorned the tree with some fairy lights taken from the outside porch and for the rest of the evening, Natasha made paper decorations. You put on an old CD of Christmas music that you'd found, before sitting next to Natasha and starting one of the spy novels that she'd already told you the entire plot of.

As she made the decorations, Natasha began to sing again.

.

You didn’t swap presents on Christmas Day. 

Natasha had asked you about that weeks before and you’d promised her not to worry. 

It started like the days before it,  Natasha walked into your room with her usual quiet hesitation and two mugs of coffee. She started grinning when she saw you, sitting up and ready with the pair of reindeer antlers already on your head. 

She gave you your mug and curled familiarly into the space beside you.

‘What do you want to do today?’ She asked, the question feeling completely natural after the last week. 

You turned your head towards her and watched Natasha try not to laugh when your antler’s tinkled.

‘I want to see the best Christmas movie that you’ve ever seen.’

Natasha's eyes closed when she smiled in response. Her head rested gently against your shoulder.

Spending a day with Natasha was the easiest way to spend a day.

It was a good Christmas.

.

Natasha nudged your door open on the morning of the 26th of December. Your last vacation day. You were already awake; she offered you your coffee before she started to speak. You held your breath in anticipation when she cleared her throat nervously.

‘I wanted to say thank you.’ She said carefully. ‘For letting me come here.’

She stood awkwardly at the foot of your bed. She was still wearing her festive pyjamas and you thought that they might be your favourite thing in the world. Her hair was tied back in its usual long braid. She chewed her lower lip and you watched her eyes try to dart nervously before she focused them on you.

‘Natasha.’ You tried to find the right words, cupping your hot mug. ‘You’re my favourite person in the world. You don't have to say thank you. It wouldn't feel like home without you.’

That was the moment. When the last piece clicked. 

You watched Natasha walk slowly around your bed. You watched her place her coffee mug on the nightstand. You felt the bed shift as she crawled into the familiar space beside you.

Her thumb brushed your cheek when she kissed you. Her touch was warm from the coffee mug.

She tasted like home.

.

Things fell apart slowly and then all at once. 

.

You returned to the real world. 

Natasha’s training had been becoming more specialised for a long time. Director Fury’s plans for her became clearer and more intentional. Her time was less her own. 

You were careful never to push. Natasha became more distracted, her eyes held their secret exhaustion again.

You cherished her when she was there. The first time an additional training session ran through your usual time for dinner, you didn’t let yourself be upset. 

That evening, you heard a knock on your door and knew it was her. Natasha's tired eyes were worried and full of unspoken guilt. You pulled her towards you with a feeling of sudden urgency and happiness that came from the simplicity of seeing her standing there.

You kissed her for a long moment and Natasha met your lips with eager relief. Then, you led her to your sofa, ignoring her protests as you insisted on trying to find enough food in your rarely used kitchen to constitute a meal for her. 

She slept in your bed that night, curled familiarly into the space next to you. You listened to her steady breathing and knew that you loved her in a way that wouldn’t change.

Her missions got longer. Natasha was trusted with more. She saved more lives with each mission and you watched her start to forgive herself for the things she could barely say aloud.

You did your best to accept that Natasha might choose a future that didn’t include you so easily. She was exceptional, in her kindness, bravery and skill. 

You knew Natasha could feel the impending future too. The busier she became with work, the more effort she made to spend every other moment with you.

You felt like a pocket of steadiness in her world of chaos. You knew it was a privilege.

.

You can't always hold onto your home.

.

Natasha was given a long-term undercover mission. When she told you about it, you felt a horrible sinking in your chest. It was a feeling that you’d been anticipating.

You knew what her job meant and you knew her talent at it. 

All you could really think about in that moment was that she’d clearly been crying. Her shaky breathing stuttered as she tried to tell you the news. 

You wondered if you knew her so well, or if she wasn’t trying to hide at all from you anymore.

You hugged her tightly and tried to absolve her of her guilt. 

She was going to miss your next Christmas. 

You kissed her forehead and told her that you loved her. Natasha tangled her fingers with your own. She squeezed your hand tight. She kissed the back of your hand softly.

The next day, you walked her to the airstrip. You felt unnaturally still as you tried to stop your chest from heaving with a loss it could already feel. 

Before she walked onto the jet, Natasha turned around. Her small, awkward wave echoed your own. You watched her braids hit her back as she turned again and walked onto the aircraft.

.

Months passed.

You lived a strange empty life.

You didn’t remember the world before Natasha, you still expected to see her at every mealtime.

Christmas day arrived.

You decorated your small plastic tree with the paper dolls that had hung above your TV for nearly two years. You watched a Christmas movie that was someone else's favourite.

.

On the 26th of December, you got a phone call. It was Clint and it was the middle of the night. You were in your car before he’d finished talking. 

.

Home is the place that you are loved.

.

You found her about a mile from the Shield base, it was just past midnight. 

Natasha was walking along the side of the river with her hood up, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights. 

She noticed you almost immediately. She came to a stop, eyes wary and shoulders braced.

You gave a small, awkward wave and she remembered herself. 

She moved toward you, pace quick. 

When she reached you, her head pressed desperately against your thick winter jacket. 

You kissed the soft fabric of her green hood and held her tight.

The sound of the river and the shaking of her cries. 

.

Home was in the sound of the river and the shaking of her cries.

[please-destroy]

Snowglobe

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: ~500

.

You had to hurry to catch up with her. Natasha was halfway down the next street before you’d even left the museum. 

‘Wait up.’ You said breathlessly. Natasha stopped in her tracks, turning to you with an easy smile. 

‘Where did you go?’ She teased, head tilting familiarly. 

You offered out the gift wordlessly. 

Natasha stared down at your hands. Her expression filled with surprise, muted shock. A silence followed.

'No. Don’t.’ Natasha said at last, pushing it back towards you. 

You laughed unthinkingly, not sensing the tug of something else beneath her words.

‘It’s not that bad.’ You teased, shaking the snowglobe slightly.

Natasha shook her head and you saw the confusion cross her face.

‘It’s not. That’s not -’ She stumbled uncharacteristically on her words. Loose strands of hair escaped her braid; they blew softly in the cold wind.

Your eyes softened as you watched her, as you began to realise.

‘I should have gotten you something better.’ You apologised gently. ‘I just saw it in the gift shop and I wanted you to have it.’

Natasha glanced up at you, eyes piercing with something you didn’t recognise.

‘Why?’ She asked bluntly. 

You searched her face, making sure you answered the right question. 

‘Because I love you.’ You told her slowly.

Natasha blinked in surprise. She blinked again. You watched her hesitate, watched her try and find the right words. She stared deeply at the snowglobe resting in your open palms.

‘It’s for me?’ She asked at last, voice brimming with something new. Something secretly hopeful.

‘Yes.’ You promised, kissing her quickly. Tears pricked your eyes. You hadn’t realised. This was brand new for her.

.

Pieces clicked together, like some abstract jigsaw. 

Every date you went on, she saved the cinema ticket, the admission pass, the receipt. 

‘Just making memories.’ She’d told you once with a shrug. 

.

‘Like a gift?’ Natasha checked, staring at your hands like they held something momentous.

‘Yes.’ You repeated, trying not to let emotion crack into your voice.

Natasha tore her eyes away from the snowglobe. She looked up at you uncertainly. Her eyes were glistening.

‘What do I do with it?’ She asked in a low voice. 

Your heart tugged at the simple question. Your mind burned with the question. Had no-one ever given her one before? You already knew the answer.

 You tried to give a casual shrug as you offered the snowglobe out once more.

‘Keep it?’ You suggested, lightly bumping your hip against hers through the thick fabric of her coat. 

Natasha’s shy smile grew as she took the gift. 

She held it tightly in her gloved hands as you started walking together along the street.

Before you turned the next corner, Natasha slowed her pace and you turned to look at her questioningly.

‘I love you too.’ She said hurriedly, brushing her lips against your cheek. ‘I love you too.’ 

Natasha’s past made your chest ache. You smiled anyway.

You held open every single door between the street and your apartment. 

Natasha’s cheeks glowed with warmth. 

She kept the snowglobe clutched tight against her winter coat, smiling like it was her first Christmas.

[please-destroy]

Mittens

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

Tony laughed loudly when he first saw the grey woollen hat. 

It had a white pom pom on the end and Tony snorted when he caught sight of it bouncing.

Natasha paused momentarily and her eyes flickered over to him, sipping coffee as he read over a Stark Pad.

‘Sorry.’ He grinned unashamedly. ‘It’s just not very Black Widow.’

Natasha rolled her eyes pointedly, before letting your hesitant tug on her hand pull her away.

In the elevator, you watched the quiet embarrassment roll through her. Natasha regarded herself in the mirrored walls as you descended the skyscraper. Her eyes lingered on the hat. 

Her gaze wasn’t critical. You almost wished it was. There was something childish in her vulnerability. You read the indecision in the way she bit her lip. 

Your heart seized with a strange sadness. You’d never really seen how Natasha viewed herself, not until then. Tony’s comment had thrown her completely off.

Just before you reached the ground floor, Natasha’s hand raised to remove the hat. You instinctively lifted your fingers to brush her wrist. She froze at your touch.

‘Leave it.’ You murmured, taking the moment for a brief kiss of her cheek. ‘You look great.’

Her voice was husky in uncertain disagreement.

‘I look ridiculous.’

‘You look cute.’ You promised truthfully, your lips lingering next to her cheek. ‘That’s not a crime.’

Natasha took a small breath and you heard the shakiness of it. Your arm wrapped around her side. 

You met her gaze in the mirror, just before the doors parted.

‘Cute.’ You repeated, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled as her smile returned. 

.

You couldn’t be certain, but you had a suspicion that the moment in the elevator didn’t leave Natasha’s mind. You knew for sure that it didn’t leave yours.

You settled together into your planned day of Christmas shopping as you wandered through the cold, busy streets. You passed a clothes store with a large winter sale on, and both slowed down to peer into the window. Inside the store, you walked thoughtlessly in sync. Together, you roamed through the aisles with that easy familiarity that comes with time. 

When you found the mittens, you held them up questioningly to her. They were the same silver grey as her woolen hat.

Natasha’s face smoothed immediately. You watched her begin to dismiss your suggestion automatically as a joke. 

Then, you saw the same lingering uncertainty return to her face.

‘I don’t know.’ She admitted suddenly and her voice was raw. 

Customers weaved around you, uninterested in anything but the retail deals on offer.

‘I’ve never had mittens before.’ Natasha told you, unwarranted embarrassment flitting into her expression. 

Your stomach flipped and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was her shyness at such a minor secret.

‘Then, these are a must buy.’ You determined with sudden decisiveness, taking her hand and leading her to the checkout.

.

The cashier easily read your relationship as you approached the counter. Despite the bustle around you, she gave you both a small smile, handing the mittens purposefully over to Natasha.

Maybe it was the cold, but Natasha’s cheeks were glowing pink before you’d left the store.

Her woolen mittens matched her hat. Her pleased smile matched her eyes.

That was when you decided that the day was going to be something else.

.

Natasha’s brow furrowed in confusion when your course altered. You led her purposefully across the busy street, away from the storefronts. 

She first protested as you weaved through the pop up stalls, selling anything from winter themed street-food to Christmas tree baubles. She reminded you about the presents that you both still needed to buy.

As you approached the ice rink, Natasha stopped in her tracks entirely. She stood a few feet away from you with wide eyes.

Her head shook slowly. 

‘No.’ She whispered, her mittens slipping self consciously into her coat pockets. ‘I don’t know how.’

You shrugged, keeping your eyes steady on her.

‘We don’t have to.’ You promised, never wanting to scare her. 

You closed the distance between you carefully. Natasha’s lips were pressed together. The same nervous indecision worried her expression. 

‘I don’t know how.’ She repeated in a small voice, the words almost an apology.

You brushed her shoulders gently.

‘That’s not a crime.’ You hummed softly. ‘Do you want to try?’

Natasha’s stare was sudden and piercing. There was something unashamed now about her exposed vulnerability. She didn’t mind that you had seen her quiet fear.  

Pride stamped your chest as you realised that Natasha knew you were on her team.

You anticipated her answer before she said it.

Before anything else, Natasha was brave.

‘Okay.’ She determined, a soft mitten seeking out your own gloved hand.

.

The next few minutes moved with surprising simplicity. You brought back the skates from the rental desk.

You laced up your pair quickly, excited to get on the ice.

Natasha started laughing gently beside you.

You looked over and caught her grin. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. She raised her mittened hands helplessly and you started smiling too.

You knelt before her, tying up her laces with extra care. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha murmured as you finished. You glanced up, surprised by the rush of warmth you felt from her gaze. 

A mitten brushed your cheek softly, and you felt your smile widen at the touch.

.

As you stepped onto the ice, Natasha’s grip was tight on your hand. 

The fairy lights above threaded together like a wedding arch.

You took an extra step forward, ready to skate. 

Natasha hesitated and you turned around, ready to skate slowly backwards as she practiced.

Your breath caught as you watched the lights sparkle in her eyes. The green and gold dappled together and Natasha seemed ethereal.

You could read the worry on her face before she said it aloud.

There was something inexplicable about the glowing softness of her. The woolen hat, the ringlets, the reddened cheeks.

Natasha’s lips parted as she exhaled anxiously.

‘I love you.’ You told her, because it was the only thing to do.

Natasha’s breath caught and her eyes sparkled impossibly more.

‘That’s not a crime.’ She considered aloud, her grin teasing.

You kissed her gently, wanting to live in this moment forever. 

She tasted much warmer than you’d expected. 

When your lips parted, Natasha hummed in satisfaction. Her forehead affectionately touched yours. The feeling of being entirely wanted spread over you like a blanket.

Natasha wobbled on the ice, but you held her steady. 

Christmas music crackled over the overhead speakers.

For a moment, there were only the bright lights and the pair of you. 

Then, with alarming speed, two teenagers skated past. You both startled.

Natasha sighed gently as she extricated herself from your hold. 

‘Come on.’ She said, taking your hand resolutely in her mittened one.

‘It’s time to go fall on my ass.’

[please-destroy]

A Place To Be

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

.

You’d been training for this your whole life. 

It had taken effort, determination and skill to become one of the best Shield agents. It was a long journey but you were starting to be proud of the person you’d become. 

You hadn’t ever thought about one day becoming an Avenger, it didn’t seem like something that could be possible. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing when you were called to Fury’s office. Your mouth hung open as he explained that the request to join had come from a member of the team itself. 

Fury had gone on to outline your new training regime and the changes that this promotion would involve. Every detail, from moving to the Avengers Tower to training with Captain America felt like a dream.

You lay that night, your final night in the Shield Residential Quarters, and stared up at the familiar grey ceiling. It was hard to sleep, the events of the day had already felt like a perfect dream. You thought about the request to join. You felt confident it must have been Clint Barton. 

You’d trained in the presence of both Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton before and you’d naturally excelled at target practice, especially from long distances. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d notice.

.

Moving into the Avengers Tower was daunting. Carrying a rucksack with your most prized possession, you gazed around at the bright modern interiors. 

You’d disembarked from a Quinjet on the roof, before being directed through the building by the AI system. Standing there in a communal living room, expecting  your arrival were the other Avengers. 

You were surprised by the openness of the team to a new recruit. Each person greeted you with real warmth when they met you for the first time.

Natasha’s enthusiasm was the most muted. From the beginning, you noticed a carefulness whenever she addressed you. She gave you a small wave in greeting, instead of the hug or handshake offered by the others. She held back quietly as the team asked you questions and welcomed you to the building. 

You worried self consciously that she could tell just how excited you were to meet her properly. It was impossible to work at a place like Shield without admiring or envying the legend of the Black Widow from afar. Even small details from her missions spread like wildfire around that organisation. You’d heard every impressive rumour about Natasha Romanoff. 

Your paths had barely crossed during her time at Shield, but Natasha had always been unforgettable. 

You remembered the first time she’d smiled at you. It was during one of the target practice sessions that you’d excelled at. Clint had whooped loudly when you’d made an unlikely shot. The loud celebratory noise should have been what you remembered most from that session. But instead, it was Natasha’s pleased smile, arms crossed from where she stood quietly by the door. 

She’d looked beautiful. It had struck you then, and it still struck you now. 

Secretly, more than any other worry you had about Natasha’s quiet behaviour. You were afraid that maybe, despite your best efforts, she could tell you had a crush.

.

Your first in-the-field mission as part of the Avengers was an opportunity to shadow Natasha through an intel gathering assignment. 

You obediently hurried to the briefing room, following an announcement from the building’s AI that an Avengers meeting had been called. You sat in the chair next to Tony, and did your best to focus as the mission was outlined. 

You tried not to look too pleased as the realisation dawned on you that it was a mission for you to join. You were keen for an opportunity to prove yourself as part of the team.

.

Natasha approached you as soon as the meeting was done. You gave her a small smile.

‘I thought wearing necklaces was against Shield protocol.’ Natasha told you bluntly. The smile dropped from your face.

‘Yes. But this is the Avengers. (Y/N)’s playing in the big leagues now.’ Tony reminded her, brushing past the pair of you to exit the room.

‘I’ll keep it tucked under my clothes.’ You tried to assure her, hand reaching automatically to touch the silver charm around your neck. Natasha’s eyes were drawn to the movement. Your throat tightened at her attention.

‘It was from someone who cares about me.’ You added quietly, unable to help being a little defensive.

Natasha’s eyes glanced briefly back to your face. She looked thoughtful.

‘Lucky you.’ She murmured after a moment. You stood dumbly, watching her leave and feeling entirely off balance from the encounter.

.

Your first mission as an Avenger was a shitshow right from the start. 

Unexpected threats, incorrect mission information and a thunderstorm. 

You felt out of your depth from the very beginning. Soon enough, the fatigue of relentless combat began to wear you down even further. 

Natasha led you through the mission with ruthless efficiency. She undoubtedly kept you alive that day. She calmly refused offers of back-up over the comms. Her assuredness was almost undermined by the bullets ripping through the air above your heads. 

She was the best fighter you’d ever seen up close. She moved with a fluidity that reminded you of dance choreography. She never seemed to hesitate, moving from one action into the next. 

You did exactly what you were told; you trusted her instincts more than you trusted yourself.

.

The only time you felt at all useful was at the end of the mission, when you drove the car back to the pick up point.

Natasha had successfully retrieved the information but at the cost of a knife wound to the thigh.

She was dressing the wound herself, using the first aid kit found in the car’s glove compartment. You watched her carefully from the corner of your eye. Despite your worry about her injury and your own poor performance during the mission; you took a moment to marvel at how impressive Natasha had been to watch. She made being brave look easy.

It was only when Natasha’s leg seemed completely bandaged that you felt confident enough to talk. You reminded her quietly about the painkillers that she hadn’t yet touched.

Natasha refused, waving her red-stained hand back at you tiredly. You pressed your lips together, trying to think of a way to change her mind. You fiddled with your necklace absentmindedly, one hand on the wheel. 

‘You need them more.’  Natasha told you, glancing obviously at your own swollen wrist. 

You felt sudden unexpected heat burn your cheeks. Your wrist injury had come from an embarrassing trip and fall. Natasha’s leg wound had come from highly skilled hand to hand combat. Embarrassment flooded you as you realised how incompetent you must seem to her.

You took the painkillers silently and didn’t speak for the rest of the drive. 

.

For the rest of the day following that mission, you were dreading hearing Natasha’s report about your performance. It kept you up that night, like the stress of an upcoming exam result. You knew it couldn’t be good. Natasha clearly thought that you couldn’t even handle a swollen wrist.

You couldn’t have been more surprised when Steve’s hand rested kindly on your shoulder the next afternoon.

‘Sounds like you survived quite the mission.’ He told you simply. ‘Nat said you coped really well, all things considered. Just need a bit more practice with heavy fire scenarios.’

You only nodded in response, startled by the feedback. You wondered if that was what Natasha had really told him. You felt a growing certainty in the pit of your stomach that Steve had censored her report to be kind. 

You imagined Natasha asking Clint why he’d wanted you to join the team. You couldn’t get the image out of your head. It felt too plausible.

.

The next time you saw Natasha was in the communal kitchen area. She hesitated when she looked at you. You felt embarrassed when she glanced down at your now bandaged wrist. The silence between you lengthened uncomfortably. 

After that, you were purposefully quieter around Natasha, a weird kind of shame filling you whenever you caught her eye.

Natasha reflected your energy perfectly back. You often made elevator journeys together in that tense silence that always seemed to linger between you. You’d start to play with your necklace awkwardly and Natasha’s eyes would follow the movement.

Then, you’d think back to her chastisement about wearing it before that first mission and embarrassment would flood you again. 

.

Soon enough, life at the Avengers Tower began to settle into something like routine. The living quarters and regular team practice were effective in helping you get to know your teammates. You began to consider the other Avengers as some of your closest friends. 

As winter approached, you started to take on occasional planned missions with different individual members of the team. You didn’t get assigned again to Natasha. You tried not to think about why.

Though Natasha never avoided you, her carefully neutral tone told you that the awkwardness of your first mission together had not been overcome. 

.

The others definitely noticed the tension between the pair of you. It stood out against your comfortable dynamics of the rest of the group.

Soon, you started to notice their schemes to get the pair of you closer. 

Tony kept trying to encourage Natasha to give you flying lessons in the Quinjet. Every week Steve suggested that you partner up together for some additional training exercise. 

You never said no and neither did she. You never followed up on the suggested plans either. You let them float away, schedules becoming full at the last minute.

.

By the time December rolled around, you’d barely shared a handful of sentences with Natasha and every single one of them had been work-related.

So, when Tony held out an upturned Iron Man helmet filled with folded pieces of paper and told you to pick out your Secret Santa name, there was only one Avenger that you didn’t want to get.

‘This says Natasha.’ You eyed the paper suspiciously, wondering if it was bad luck or another sneaky scheme by the rest of the team to encourage the pair of you to make friends. ‘Do all the other papers say Natasha too?’

Tony snorted. ‘Please. If I was going to cheat at Secret Santa, then all the names in there would be mine.’ He snatched the helmet back before you could see for yourself and hurried away along the corridor.

You never got a definitive answer about the cheating. 

.

You did get a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Bruce when you asked him quietly for gift ideas for Natasha. 

You were trying not to let the upcoming Secret Santa ruin the holidays for you. But the prospect of buying Natasha a present was beyond intimidating.

Bruce’s first story didn’t help you at all. He told you about the birthday party that the team had planned for Natasha the year before. Clint had loudly protested the idea from the start. He’d argued it was pointless, given that no-one even knew her correct birthday. 

Still, the plan had gone ahead with the surprise party scheduled for an upcoming Saturday. Tony had sourced several extravagant presents on behalf of the team. 

You perked up at this part of Bruce’s story, hoping to get some inspiration for Secret Santa. 

Bruce mentioned the full range of brand new Stark industries tech that had been procured as presents and your hope flattened out. He hadn’t been kidding about extravagant.

Natasha must have gotten wind of the team’s intentions. She disappeared without a trace on the Friday night before the party. She reappeared back in the Tower on the following Monday morning, as if she’d never left.

Within an hour of her return, all the expensive waiting wrapped presents with her name on them had disappeared from the Tower. 

Tony still made occasional comments about it under his breath, but no one had ever addressed it directly with her. When Natasha didn’t want to talk about something, it was hard to bring it up.

Your nervousness shifted now into a feeling of dread. You felt frustrated at the practical stranger that you’d only ever wanted to like you. You were certain now that Natasha was going to hate whatever you bought her.

.

After the ominous story from Bruce, you spent the next few evenings alone in your room, scrolling endlessly through online lists for gift ideas. 

It was during one of these evenings that Natasha burst into your room unexpectedly.

Her eyes scanned the space, finding you instantly. She didn’t move closer.

‘I have you for Secret Santa.’ Natasha informed you tensely. You fought the annoyance that bubbled up inside you at her stressed tone. You weren’t hard to buy presents for, especially not compared to her.

‘Right.’ You replied, trying to keep your own tone calm.

‘What do you want?’ Natasha asked directly, her eyes focusing intensely on yours. You stared back at her, unable to believe what she’d just asked. You felt like another mission she’d been assigned to.

Something in you snapped, like a release of tension from every silent elevator ride you’d ever shared with her.

‘Just get me whatever you’d like me to have, Natasha.’ You replied harshly. ‘That’s exactly what I want.’

Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. You watched her try to assess your tone and your words. You didn’t like the feeling of it.

You looked away, staring back at the laptop screen and trying to blink away the embarrassing tears of frustration. 

Natasha left then. You shut your laptop and covered your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. You hated that she saw you as such an inconvenience.

Now, you were certain you’d be getting an information pamphlet on Not Being Such A Little Bitch for Christmas.

In the end, you asked Clint for help. He gave you exactly one suggestion and you took it tiredly. A bottle of vodka was about as impersonal as Natasha felt to you these days anyway.

.

The team did the gift exchange on the 23rd of December, before those with holiday plans needed to leave. You certainly didn’t have any plans to head away for. You’d already moved away to work for Shield, and then again for this job. No one you knew even lived on this side of the country. 

You didn’t mind too much, in fact you were beginning to look forward to it. Eating a takeout meal in the Avengers Tower seemed like a novel enough way to spend the holiday.

The present exchange had a warm atmosphere from the start. The tacky plastic Christmas tree that Clint had obviously found in a dollar store seemed more cheerful than the professionally decorated one that lived in the main lobby. 

Your eyes kept flickering over to Natasha as she played with the fake pine needles absentmindedly. Her hair was tied back, not in its typical braid, but in a loose ponytail. It flicked over her shoulder every time she glanced between the little tree and the rest of the team. 

She’d dressed casually for the event, wearing black jeans, a black top and an oversized red hoodie. Her small smile was soft and her shoulders seemed relaxed. It was the first time you’d ever seen her look so unguarded.

You and Natasha were the last to exchange your presents. What you already knew became clear to the team. You’d both gotten each other in the Secret Santa draw. You swapped the gifts carefully. 

‘You first.’ Natasha nodded, something surprisingly tentative in her expression.

Natasha’s gift was small. Not wrapped, it sat in a plain gift bag. There was a small box and a white piece of card. You read the card first. 

‘I knew you’d make a great Avenger. 

Thanks for proving me right. 

Natasha.’

The words were simple, her signature looped itself prettily across the bottom of the card.

Your heart dropped in surprise. Your eyes found Natasha’s and a hot rush of emotion rose up inside you. Natasha gave you her small smile, it looked almost shy. 

She’d had faith in you from the start. She’d been the one to request your transfer into the team. You hadn’t even thought she’d remembered you at Shield. The smile she’d once given you in the training room flashed through your mind.

The heat rushed to your cheeks. You realised how much of her personality had gotten lost in translation. You remembered her offering you painkillers when you were hurt. You’d heard criticism in her kindness. You hadn’t been fair at all.

She nodded once at the box in your lap and you remembered the gift itself. You opened the box hesitantly, aware of the others’ curious stares.

Inside the box was a necklace. Your breathing shallowed out as you processed it. The charm was the same red hourglass that was the insignia of the Black Widow. 

You wiped the unexpected tears from your face. You caught Natasha’s look of anticipation and tried to smile back. Your ‘Thank You’ got lodged in your throat.

Natasha’s smile widened a little. She moved now to open your present. 

The change inside of you was abrupt. Suddenly, the world moved in awful slow motion. You felt hot shame build up inside your throat. 

You watched her pull the bottle out of the badly wrapped packaging. You watched her swallow as she realised what it was. Disappointment flickered briefly over her face before her expression shuttered itself into a neutral one.

You could tell she was aware of the onlookers. Natasha laughed once, dryly.

‘Thanks.’ She said to you, eyes still on the bottle. Her voice rasped. ‘I do like vodka.’

Now, an awkward apology got caught in your throat. Your hand wrapped itself tightly around the velvet necklace box. The room was quiet, you watched Natasha’s shoulders subtly tense.

‘Tony, maybe it’s time to order the takeout.’ Bruce suggested suddenly. All at once, the room around you became busy again. 

Natasha excused herself immediately to put her gift in her room. Her smile seemed honest, but you caught the emptiness behind her eyes when she turned away. 

Your gaze trailed after her until Tony blocked your view abruptly, asking if you wanted any wontons.

.

The urgent call for the Avengers to assemble came before the takeout had even been ordered. 

You were the only one left behind. There was no time to even debate you joining them; the team had left the Tower immediately. The emergency was upstate and two civilians had already been killed. There wasn’t even time to include you on the comms.

You spent the rest of the day waiting worriedly. You watched the news just to have a way to feel connected. 

You kept hold of the jewellery box, your thumb rubbing worried circles against the velvet.

The All Clear update only came through in the evening. You finally called in the takeout order, knowing the whole team would be starving upon their arrival. 

Everyone, except for Clint and Natasha, entered together. Your eyes scanned the elevator worriedly as it opened up on the floor.

‘Clint had to head straight to his folks for Christmas.’ Steve told you quickly, noticing your obvious concern. ‘I guess Natasha went with him.’

Disappointment flooded you. Clint wasn’t due back for a full week. You wondered if Natasha would be away for that long too.

You ate in silence, brooding over your missed chance to even thank her properly. You owed Natasha more than one apology. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket midway through the meal.

You slid it out to see a text from Clint.

‘Gone straight home for Christmas with family. Can you check Tasha got back safe?’

You read the text over again unnecessarily. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and quietly excused yourself from the group.

.

You headed straight to Natasha’s rooms in the Tower, two floors down in the elevator. You tried hesitantly to enter, expecting the door to be locked. But, the handle turned.

Natasha was sitting on the wide windowsill. Her eyes were rimmed red and she was staring out at the skyline of New York. You saw the bottle of vodka balanced between her legs, already half drunk. You felt sick.

She turned at the sound of you. Her long hair hung loose, framing her face. Her smile was too sad to seem genuine. 

The room felt too quiet.

‘I’m sorry.’ You told her immediately, rushing out the words that you’d been wanting to say all day.

‘For what?’ She asked softly. You couldn’t tell from her head tilt if the question was genuine.

‘I should have.’ You began to answer anyway, gesturing over at the vodka bottle. ‘I should have.’ You hesitated, trying to find the right words.

‘That was the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.’ Natasha told you suddenly. 

Disbelief clouded your mind for a moment. You paused in confusion.

‘It’s the only Christmas present I’ve ever had.’ Natasha added quietly, the side of her head resting against the pane of glass.

‘I thought you didn’t like presents.’ You admitted after a moment. Natasha’s eyebrow raised and you could feel her surprise at your words. 

‘Bruce told me about your almost birthday party.’ 

Natasha laughed once then. The laugh was genuine but the tone of it made you feel sick.

‘My mother abandoned me in the street. Why do I need a present for that?’ The hurt in the words stung sharply.

Natasha shut her mouth quickly then and you could tell that she was fighting not to cry. You watched her jaw tense. A tear rolled down her cheek and she rubbed it away. 

Your heart ached sharply. You wondered if anyone really knew Natasha. If everyone made assumptions, like you. 

You walked across the room. You noticed how harshly her hand had touched her cheek, seeing the reddened mark from the contact. 

You noticed her shoulders stiffen slightly at your proximity.

‘I think you’re exceptional.’ You told her softly, sitting along the same windowsill and facing her.

Natasha snorted, her eyes drifted between the view of New York and you.

‘That’s because I can kick your ass.’ She said lightly. You watched her try to crack a smile to relieve the tension. 

You stretched your leg out slowly and nudged hers with it. Natasha’s eyes met yours immediately in response, the half smile frozen on her lips.

‘No.’ You said firmly. ‘It’s because you are so kind.’

Natasha blinked at you in surprise. A frown pulled at the edge of her mouth, her disagreement was immediate.

‘You don’t know that.’ She muttered harshly. ‘I’ve done terrible things.’

Her thumb traced the glass rim of the open vodka bottle as she looked down at it.

‘Where did those birthday presents go then?’ You asked, already having guessed the answer.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

‘Those were ridiculous. Too expensive. Tony went beyond overboard.’ She told you, focusing completely on the vodka bottle now.

‘Someone always needs them more’ You murmured, echoing the words she’d once told you when you’d offered her painkillers. 

Natasha’s look was appraising as it focused back on you. Her eyes widened slightly and you wondered if it was at the accuracy of your memory or your guess.

Her mouth relaxed almost imperceptibly.

‘Not to mention this.’ You continued quietly, opening the small velvet box that you’d been carrying around all day. Your fingers trailed along the necklace chain.

‘I just figured you liked jewellery.’ Natasha muttered and her eyes glanced over to the necklace that you were wearing.

‘It’s perfect.’ You told her as you undid the clasp of the necklace around your neck, removing it and placing it on the window ledge between you. 

Slowly, you took the new necklace out of its box and began to loop it around your neck.

‘You don’t have to do that.’ Natasha told you, looking exhausted and embarrassed all at once. She watched you warily.

You ignored her, finally managing to hook the clasp together. 

Then, you moved to stand behind her.

‘Lift your hair.’ You told her softly. 

Natasha looked up at you, obviously confused. You picked up your old necklace from the window ledge.

‘No.’ She refused as the realisation hit her. 

You stayed steady in your resolve, waiting quietly. 

Natasha’s green eyes studied you, she looked uncertain. After a long moment, she lifted her hair up. 

You looped the necklace around her neck and fastened it carefully. Your fingers brushed her skin and you felt her shiver slightly.

Once you were done, you rested your hand tentatively on her shoulder. Natasha was only wearing her black top now and you could feel the warmth of her through the fabric. 

‘Happy Christmas, from someone who cares about you.’ You told her simply. 

You wished desperately that you had written it on a card like she had. You felt exposed as your words hung for a moment in the air between you. 

Then, Natasha’s hand moved silently to cover your own, holding it still against her shoulder. Your breath caught.

‘You want some?’ Natasha said after a moment, her knee nudging the vodka bottle.

.

That year was the first time you didn’t have any place to be for Christmas. 

So, you found one with Natasha.

[please-destroy]

Temper Temper

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + Family.

Word Count 1.4k

Follows on from the last few stories I've posted on here.

.

‘She might have had a good reason.’ You reminded Natasha as she gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. You sent a prayer ahead to Yelena waiting for you in the school office. Natasha had been seething since she’d received the call about the fight.

‘It’s her temper.’ Natasha muttered quietly as she pulled into a space in the school’s parking lot. You leaned over, running your hand soothingly along her tense shoulder. Natasha’s eyes closed for a brief moment.

‘She’s got fire.’ You corrected, knowing how easily Natasha saw her own fears reflected back in her daughter. ‘Just like you.’ You reminded her softly.

Natasha let out a long breath.

‘If she hurt someone-’ She whispered.

‘Let’s wait for the facts.’ You interceded, brushing your thumb over her wedding ring absentmindedly. ‘But, even if she did.’ You paused, making sure Natasha was looking at you. ‘That’s not on you.’

Natasha’s lips pressed together and she didn’t reply. You didn’t push your point any further.

Yelena was easy to spot, sitting outside the principal’s office. Her hair was a deep shade of blue and it stood out against the bland beige walls of the hallway. She looked over at the sound of your footsteps. You saw the nervous anticipation on her face as she caught Natasha’s expression.

To anyone else, your wife was the picture of careful neutrality. Yelena knew better than to believe it, you watched her swallow nervously. You felt a small spike of anxiety as you noticed the cut on her lower lip. It had swollen slightly, making her look like she was pouting. She seemed younger than ever.

You slowed slightly whilst Natasha walked directly over. She moved to stand directly in front of Yelena, imposing despite the fact they were nearly the same height when both standing. Yelena’s chin tilted up defiantly and you tried to prepare yourself. 

‘You got in a fight.’ Natasha stated quietly, letting her disappointment seep into the air.

Yelena glanced at you, eyes suddenly filled with nerves. 

‘That’s not what happened.’ She hurried out. ‘Those girls were-’

‘I didn’t ask for an excuse.’ Natasha interrupted, voice deceptively calm. ‘Those girls are a grade younger than you.’

You moved forward, seeing some of the pieces that they were both missing. You were sure Yelena had been provoked, you were certain Natasha’s anger came from fear of her own influence. 

Yelena always wanted to hear stories about Natasha’s superhero life. Now, she was getting into physical fights. It wasn’t hard for Natasha to find a correlation.

The sound of footsteps behind you drew your attention along with Natasha’s and Yelena’s. The principal gave you a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

He moved past you, unlocking his office door and holding it open for you all to enter. You purposefully moved to walk in between your wife and your daughter. 

Natasha took your hand automatically as it brushed hers. You reached for Yelena’s but she yanked it back. 

Quiet concern filled you. Getting into a fight at school was bad, but losing Yelena’s trust was going to be much worse.

There was a tense silence as you all took your seats in the school office. The principal leaned forward on his desk, fingers drumming out a rhythm on the hard surface. Natasha’s jaw tightened and you knew the sound was setting her on edge.

‘Today has not been a good day.’ He hummed out thoughtfully to the room and you tried to swallow your own annoyance at his officious tone. Unable to help it, your arm moved comfortingly around the back of Yelena’s chair. You heard her breathe a little steadier. 

‘Are the other girls okay?’ Natasha asked suddenly, voice tight. The principal nodded.

‘Relatively.’ He answered and his gaze flickered to Yelena. 

‘And you?’ He asked simply.

‘Fine.’ She replied bluntly, sitting stiffly in the chair. 

‘There are going to be big changes, going forward.’ He addressed you and Natasha now. ‘This will not happen again.’

Natasha nodded immediately, shooting another disappointed look over at Yelena. You resolved to enforce some space between them as soon as this meeting was over. Everyone needed a moment to calm down.

‘I hope you’re still happy to keep Yelena enrolled here.’ The principal continued seriously. ‘She really is a wonderful student.’

Natasha froze next to you. You glanced at Yelena in confusion, but she kept staring forward, obviously unwilling to engage.

‘Why wouldn’t we?’ You prompted carefully. 

‘We think the bullying has been going on for months.’ The principal informed you in a softer tone. Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable seat.

‘The what?’ Natasha asked now, and you could hear the shock in her voice. Your heart started sinking before the principal confirmed it.

‘There’s been a social media campaign by several students targeting your daughter.’ The principal answered bluntly. 

Natasha was out of her chair before you could think of moving, going to stand next to Yelena. There were many moments when Natasha seemed achingly maternal. Her instinctive need to protect her daughter was the most obvious to see.

‘What sort of campaign?’ You asked the principal,, not quite sure you were ready to hear the answer.

‘It’s nothing.’ Yelena muttered now, furiously avoiding Natasha’s searching gaze.

‘From what I can gather, it was mainly focused on your wife.’ The principal informed you quietly. 

‘No.’ Natasha breathed out.

Her hand touched Yelena’s shoulder and you watched as Yelena flinched away from the comforting touch.

The principal’s eyes scanned the scene and he nodded to himself once. 

‘I’ll give you a moment.’ He said, rising from his chair and moving to leave the room.

The door had barely shut before Yelena spoke up.

‘Don’t make this a big deal.’ She directed to the pair of you quietly, with an enforced stillness similar to her mother’s earlier . ‘It was just some stupid comments online.’

‘Did they upset you?’ You asked her bluntly, already anticipating how much Yelena was going to try and minimise the incident. 

There was a slight pause and then Yelena nodded curtly.

‘I’m going to kill them.’ Natasha murmured and her hand fell from its position hovering above Yelena’s shoulder. 

You stood up before she could make a move for the door.

You touched Natasha’s arm, trying to calm the fresh panic you could see in her eyes. Her gaze clung to you, trying to ground herself. 

You looked back reassuringly at your wife, promising to fix what she didn’t know how. 

You turned to address your daughter, feeling the familiar uncertainty of a new parenting situation.

‘You are so brave.’ You told Yelena simply, finally getting her to raise her head and look back at you. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could tell us.’ 

Yelena’s gaze flickered to Natasha and then back to you. You all understood what she didn’t say. Natasha curled in on herself subtly. You brushed along her tense shoulders soothingly.

‘I just got confused.’ Yelena mumbled now, obviously on the verge of tears. ‘I didn’t think they’d actually do anything.’

Now, when she looked at Natasha, her stare was pleading. Yelena had always wanted to be like her Mom. 

‘I didn’t hit them back or anything Mom, I swear.’ 

Natasha knelt down in front of Yelena’s chair. Yelena looked down at her Mom now. Natasha’s chin tilted upwards as she started to speak.

‘I’m sorry.’ Natasha said abruptly, the words a little choked. Her hand reached up, thumb brushing Yelena’s cheek. 

‘I’m so proud of you.’ Natasha told Yelena softly. 

Yelena’s expression relaxed and you knew it was the only thing she’d wanted to hear. 

‘Thanks Mom.’ She said shyly, a tiny smile growing on her face.

You moved forward too, your other hand moving to rest on Yelena’s nearest shoulder. Yelena flinched obviously and then stilled herself purposefully.

The realisation hit Natasha first. She groaned exaggeratedly. Your gaze flickered in confusion between the pair of them. 

‘Please tell me you haven’t been hiding an injury this whole time.’ Natasha prompted teasingly.

‘I haven’t been hiding an injury this whole time.’ Yelena parroted back. Her wide smile was mischievous as Natasha rolled her eyes at the blatant lie. 

‘Why am I always taking someone to the Emergency Room?’ You said loudly, sighing dramatically as you fished out your car keys from your pocket.

‘Because we both have tempers.’ Yelena sang back to you, repeating one of Natasha’s favourite declarations.

‘No.’ Natasha corrected suddenly. She gave you an affectionate glance and your heart filled with a tender rush of love. 

‘We’ve both got fire.’