screaminglygay

[screaminglygay]

It´s nothing

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader

summary: yelena is dragged into the medbay with a bullet wound in her hand and a bad mood to match. you’re the avenger´s medic. what starts as a simple check-up turns into something more as you slowly find your way into her heart.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: emotional vulnerability, minor injury, mentions of medical care and treatment, slight swearing

an: there are NOT ENOUGH YELENA FICS. why is it that I go to the tag and see every character but her?? this fic is my contribution to fix that injustice. also shoutout to the medics out there, i tried to do some research, but not sure if it´s correct:D

part one | part two

The doors to the med wing burst open. You glance up from your desk, pen pausing mid-note. It’s never good when someone enters like that.

"(Y/N)!" Kate Bishop’s voice rings out before you even spot her. She’s grinning, breathless, and flanked by Natasha Romanoff on one side and between them, a very scowly blonde with a bleeding hand.

"Please," the blonde mutters, "I can walk. I am not a potato sack."

"Could’ve fooled me," Natasha deadpans, barely breaking stride as she drags her by the arm, "you’re leaking all over the hallway."

"I’m fine."

Kate gestures toward the nearest exam table. "She’s not fine."

You raise an eyebrow and stand, already pulling on gloves, "what can I help you with?"

Before Romanoff can answer, the blonde, who you now recognize as Yelena, her sister, new Avenger and walking embodiment of resistance to medical care, answers flatly.

"Nothing. Thank you."

You blink once. Then glance at her arm, soaked glove, torn fabric, blood trailing down to her wrist. Then back at her unimpressed stare.

"…Right."

"Sit down," Natasha orders, giving Yelena a little shove toward the exam table.

"I said I’m-"

"Injured," you finish for her, calmly setting out antiseptic and bandages, "which is sort of my whole thing."

"I do not need your-"

"Sit," Natasha says again, this time with the terrifying big sister voice. Even you straighten a little.

Yelena reluctantly hops onto the table, muttering something in Russian under her breath. You’re ninety percent sure it translates to some swear words.

Kate leans against the counter beside you, arms crossed. "Mission in Riga went sideways. Some idiot with a rooftop sniper popped off early. We got the civilians out, but someone," she tilts her head toward Yelena, "decided catching a bullet was a solid tactic."

"I was covering your blind spot," Yelena snaps.

"And we love you for it," Kate sings sweetly, patting her knee.

You try not to laugh, biting the inside of your cheek as you clean around the wound. Yelena stiffens like you’re threatening to amputate. "I’m just cleaning it," you assure her.

"You’re poking at it."

"That’s how cleaning works," you say dryly.

She scowls harder.

You glance at the entry wound and sigh. "Few inches to the left and we’d be having a very different conversation, miss Belova."

That earns you an annoyed look. But she quiets. Not from pain, you sense, but from guilt. Silence spreads around, everyone just looking at Yelena´s arm and you stitching her up. But there is some tension you can´t really shake away. You can tell, especially from Yelena herself since her muscles are very tight.

"I ruined the mission," she mumbles.

"Yelena," Natasha says, exasperated. "You saved a kid from getting shot. The only thing you ruined was your suit."

Kate leans closer to you, whispering behind her hand. "She’s been dramatic about this for like twenty minutes. It’s kinda cute."

You smile, just a little, "like a dog before the vet?"

"Exactly!" Kate says, that makes you smile once again.

"I can hear you," Yelena grumbles.

You pat her wrist gently, "you were lucky. But let’s not make it a habit."

She doesn’t respond, but her eyes linger on your face a beat longer than necessary. You feel your heart flicker. Uh-oh. What- no.

You secure the last piece of bandage over Yelena’s palm with practiced ease. "There," you say softly, smoothing the edge with your thumb. "No nerve damage, just a clean graze. It’ll need a check-up in two days to make sure there’s no infection."

Yelena rolls her eyes, "I’ll live."

"That’s the idea," you reply with a faint smile. "Two days, miss Belova. Don’t make me hunt you down."

"She will," Kate chimes in, arms crossed again like she's giving a ted talk in the corner of your medbay. "I’ve been hunted."

You glance at her, amused, "you tripped on your own bowstring and fell from a second floor."

"It was one time!"

"Twice," you and Natasha say at the same time.

Kate scowls. "Betrayal. Anyway-" she turns back to Yelena, "You heard the medic. Been there, done that. If you don’t show up, Fury’s gonna kick your ass and make you file incident paperwork for the next six weeks."

Yelena frowns, "I do not do paperwork."

"Then let (Y/N) help you. She's very good at lying for us in the report," Kate grins. "Right, doc?"

You shrug, mock-innocent, "I don’t recall anything unusual. Miss Belova bravely sustained a minor injury in the course of protecting civilians."

Yelena’s eyes flick toward you again, slightly less stormy now. "You’re good at this."

You glance up, "patching people up?"

She holds your gaze, "making it not feel so horrible."

…Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

Kate, apparently catching the subtle shift in tone, chooses that moment to stretch. "Well! My work here is done. Nat, you owe me ten bucks, she didn’t bite anyone."

"I never agreed to that bet," Natasha says as she heads for the door.

Kate waves a hand, "details."

You follow them to the door, letting Yelena slide off the exam table behind you. She still holds her hand a little awkwardly, like it feels unfamiliar now.

"Two days," you remind her gently, "same time."

Yelena stops beside you, "okay."

...

You glance at the clock. She’s fifty minutes late. Not that you’re watching the clock or anything. Not that you’ve already replayed the conversation in your head once. Or twice. Maybe three times.

You’re starting to wonder if she bailed when the door finally swings open, just a little too hard, like it lost an argument on the way in.

Yelena steps inside, hoodie half-zipped, blonde hair slightly slicked back. Not dramatically injured. Just… tired.

You look up from your desk, "I was afraid you wouldn’t show up," you say lightly. "I almost started hunting you down."

She shrugs, gaze flicking to the floor and back again, "had to deal with something."

You nod, not pushing. But even if she hadn’t said it, you’d know. Something's off. Her whole posture is different, less sharp-edged and more… slouched in on itself.

"Come on," you say gently, and motion to the same exam table.

She sits without protest this time, but she doesn’t meet your eyes.

You unwrap the bandage and examine the healing wound. It’s clean, no signs of infection, the scab smooth and pink.

"Looks good," you murmur, carefully rotating her hand. "Healing fast. No swelling. I’ll rewrap it, but you should let it breathe a little at night."

Yelena nods, but doesn’t say anything.

You glance up again. Still that silence. Still that weight in her shoulders, like she’s wearing something too heavy for one person.

You clear your throat softly. "There’s some scar cream I can recommend. Stuff Nat probably never used, but it helps. I’ll print out a sheet with tips for minimizing scarring, heat, pressure, massage, all that."

Another nod.

You start to wrap her hand again, slower this time. More deliberate. Then you stop. "One more thing," you say gently, looking up at her. "Are you okay?"

That finally gets her attention. She lifts her eyes to meet yours. And something in them flickers, confusion, hesitation, like she’s not sure how to lie to you and not sure how to tell the truth, either.

Yelena exhales, sharp and shallow.

"The mission was stupid," she mutters. "And now I have pain in my ass from the people upstairs asking why I didn’t save three buildings while juggling a bunch of agents on my own. So. Just a total failure. Very exciting. Five stars."

You smile, but it’s a sad one, "sounds exhausting."

"They sit on their asses and yell about tactics from ten floors above ground," she mutters. "Like.... like it is chess. But it is not chess. It is people bleeding. People panicking. And I’m out there trying not to get everyone killed."

You don’t say anything right away. You just take her hand in yours again and finish wrapping the bandage, not rushed, not clinical. Careful. Gentle. Like someone seeing the person beneath the bruises.

"I’m sorry," you say quietly. "You don’t deserve that."

Yelena stares at you. Just for a second. Like no one’s ever said that to her before. Or like no one’s ever meant it. Yelena’s voice is quiet, barely more than breath, "thank you."

You glance up from her hand, surprised by the softness in her tone. But her eyes aren’t on the bandage. They’re on you. You nod once. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, "anytime."

...

You’re sorting inventory when the door to the medbay opens. You don’t even turn around at first. "You’re early for your check-up," you call over your shoulder. "It’s not for another-"

You pause as you turn and see her. Her stance is stiff, and there’s something off in the way she’s holding her shoulder, slightly hunched, as if she's trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt while also not being able to stop it from hurting.

Your tone softens, "oh."

She doesn’t say anything. Just steps inside, closes the door quietly behind her, and stands there like she’s not sure if this was a good idea.

"What happened?" you ask gently, already reaching for gloves.

She shakes her head once, "It´s nothing bad."

You raise an eyebrow, "right. Paper cut is nothing bad,” you motion to the table. "Suit off. Let me see."

Yelena hesitates for just a second, then wordlessly begins peeling back the upper half of her tactical suit. You do your best not to watch too closely as the fabric shifts down her arm, revealing the bruising already blooming over her shoulder and upper bicep, deep, violet-pink, painful just to look at.

No gash this time. No blood. Just impact. Bone-deep and messy. You step closer and gently brush your fingers just above the bruise, testing the reaction without pressing.

"Not dislocated. That’s something. It’ll be sore for a few days. I’ll tape it for compression." Yelena nods, staying quiet.

You glance up at her as you begin preparing the wrap, raising a brow. "Are you getting hurt just to see me?"

That makes her head snap toward you.

Caught.

There’s a flash of something in her eyes... surprise, maybe. Embarrassment? It's hard to tell. But her cheeks color just slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

You give her a playful smirk, still wrapping her shoulder. "Because I doubt hero like you is this clumsy."

She stares at you for a beat, then mutters under her breath, "I’m not a hero."

You glance up again, meeting her eyes with calm certainty. "You’re jumping in front of civilians. Protecting your team. Saving the world. That sounds like the definition of a hero to me."

She scoffs softly, "well… says the medic."

You chuckle under your breath as you finish taping the wrap, "guess we’re both doing what we can."

There’s a quiet moment between you then. Not uncomfortable. Just… full of something unspoken.

You smile at her gently, "you can come by, you know. Even when you’re not bleeding."

Yelena tilts her head. "And do what? Let you lecture me about scar cream?"

You grin, "if that’s what it takes."

She huffs a laugh. And even though she doesn’t say anything more, she doesn’t leave right away either.

...

Once again Yelena slides into the medbay five minutes late for her check-up, hoodie pulled over her usual black tank top, hands stuffed in her pockets.

You glance up from your tablet and smile, "look who decided to show up."

She shrugs with her good shoulder, "told you I’d come."

You set the tablet down and gesture to the exam table, "hop up, Belova. Let’s see how that shoulder’s doing."

She climbs up without complaint, though she winces slightly as she rolls the hoodie off her injured side. The bruise has changed color, less angry, more faded, but still deep enough to make your brow furrow.

"How’s the pain?" you ask, fingers gentle as you palpate the joint.

She shrugs again, "it’s fine. Just a little sore."

"Mhm," you hum. Then you press just below the clavicle and watch her flinch. "Still sore?"

"It’s nothing. I’ve been resting."

You pause. Look her in the eye, "have you?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waves you off, looking away a little too quickly. "Totally."

You narrow your eyes, "Yelena." Her eyes flick back to yours. Innocent. Too innocent.

You sigh, stepping back, arms crossing, "you’ve been training, haven’t you?"

"... no"

You raise one eyebrow slowly.

" … lightly."

"Yelena, your shoulder still has inflammation around the supraspinatus. If you keep pushing it, you’re risking a rotator cuff tear."

She blinks, "that sounds bad."

"It is bad. And painful. And you’ll be benched for months, which, knowing you, would drive you completely insane."

"I don’t do benches."

"Exactly. So let it heal properly."

She grumbles something in Russian under her breath, and you hand her a gel pack.

"Use this tonight. No push-ups. No sparring. No throwing knives with that arm."

"Only with the other one," she mutters with a faint smirk.

You sigh, but there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips too. She hops off the table, wincing slightly again.

"You’re free to go," you say, trying to sound casual. "As long as you rest."

Just as she reaches the door, the calm voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. fills the room.

"Miss Belova, you are required at the quinjet bay in fifteen minutes. New mission briefing in progress."

You freeze, "wait, what?"

Yelena pauses, like she hoped you didn’t hear that.

Your eyes widen, "oh, absolutely not."

Yelena turns slowly, "it’s just-"

"You’re injured."

"I’m fine."

You walk toward her, voice firm now. "You’ve got limited rotation in your dominant shoulder, you’re still bruising internally, and you just said it hurts. That’s not ‘fine.’ That’s ignoring medical advice."

You snatch your tablet from the counter, fingers flying over the screen. A few swipes and taps later, you enter a temporary hold on Yelena’s deployment clearance, medical evaluation pending. You barely finish typing the last line when your comms device buzzes.

You glance at the caller ID and sigh. Of course.

"Medbay, (Y/L/N) speaking," you answer, putting the call on speaker out of pure principle.

"Miss (Y/L/N)," comes the clipped voice of someone two floors up and far too high on the food chain to care about bruised shoulders, "I see you’ve just submitted an availability block on agent Belova?"

"She just finished her check-up with me five minutes ago," you reply, calmly but with steel under it. "Her shoulder is still compromised. She’s not ready for a mission... any type."

A pause on the other end. "That information should’ve been input prior to deployment call. You’ve now created a discrepancy in the field team manifest."

"I’m sorry," you say flatly, unapologetically. "But my priority is my patient’s well-being, not your paperwork."

Another pause. Slightly longer. Then, with clipped resignation, "fine. We’ll pull another name. But we will talk."

"Looking forward to it," you say sweetly, and hang up.

The moment the comm cuts, you realize how quiet it’s gotten. Yelena leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, impressed.

"Wow…" she says after a beat, voice half amusement, half awe. "Didn’t know you could order them around like that."

You glance over, shrugging with forced nonchalance. "I usually don’t have to. But I also usually don’t have Avengers trying to sneak into the field with half-functioning shoulders."

Yelena gives a low chuckle, then winces, "okay. Maybe quarter-functioning."

You tilt your head at her, not smiling, not scolding. Just looking.

"Why do you do that?" you ask softly. "Always willing to tear yourself apart for them?"

She shrugs, "that’s the job."

"No. That’s you." You soften. "But just for today, maybe let someone else carry the weight?"

Yelena studies you for a moment, "you always talk to your patients like this?"

You grin, "only the stubborn ones."

She lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, eyes flicking to the floor, then back to you. You roll your eyes, but the smile lingers, "go rest, Belova. That’s a medical order."

She salutes playfully, smirk reappearing, "yes, doctor."

Thank you for reading:)

[screaminglygay]

Update!!!

heyy everyone!! first of all I’m so sorry for the radio silence lately. I haven’t vanished, I swear life just got intense and I was also graduating college!! and now I can finally say, I have my bachelor’s degree and I’m officially done. It was stressful as fuck, but it’s over…

which means… I finally have more time to write again!! I missed it so much, and I’m super excited to be back in it. I’ve got a new yelena series in the works and I’m hyped to share it with you all soon!!!

also to the lovely human who sent the carol request, I see you! THANK YOU!! and YES, I will absolutely write it!! Just hang in there with me a little longer<3

Thank you all for your patience and for sticking around. I’m so happy to be creating again. Stay tuned, more is coming.

-a

[screaminglygay]

Hiya

I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you thing we'll ever get a sequel to clown! Carol x reader

It's one if my favourite stories you've written and I'd love to see more of it!

hiii! honestly I never really thought about it, since it’s something for kinktober, buttt never say never hehe… maybe I’ll come back to it.

thank you though, I’m glad there is still someone who is down for Carol!!

or maybe if you’ll have a request and I’ll have a free moment .. who knows what might happen 😏

[screaminglygay]

wanted to post today but tumblr decided to delete my yelena fanfic :(( which feels pretty homophobic tbh… like it’s pride month hello?? anyway happy pride month my little gay friends <33

i’ll be reposting the yelena fic sometime this week!!

also college is currently chewing me up and spitting me out, but i do have some cool fic ideas, i can’t wait to write!! stay tuned!

-a

[screaminglygay]

HII I love this mini series so much🥹🥹

I was wondering is part 3 going to be the end of the series or will there be more??

hi! thank you so much:) yes part 3 is the last part of the series!

[screaminglygay]

Would you write about Nat in the void ? like what she'd see and someone comforting her after ?

There´s something dark

pairing: platonic!thunderbolts* (bucky, yelena, bob) x reader, natasha romanoff x reader, but it can also be platonic!natasha:)

summary: natasha is trapped in a place where the past bleeds into the present, and her team must fight to bring her home before it's too late.

warnings: heavy topics!!, trauma, PTSD, childhood neglect and abuse, red room, suicide mention, clint dies instead of natasha, mental manipulation, hallucinations, and identity disassociation, panic attacks, emotional breakdown, survivor guilt

word count: 4.3k

an: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!! I wasn’t sure if this was meant to be a reader-insert or not, so I blended it all together. it was a heavy but interesting thing to write and it´s cool to think about different people in the void, especially nat.

"Yelena!" she shouted, her voice raw with urgency. Boots hit pavement in sharp, rapid rhythm as she pushed through the swirling black mass ahead. The Void pulsed like a living thing, unnatural, heavy, and wrong. It had already swallowed Yelena whole.

You barely had time to call out her name before Natasha ran straight in. "Nat!"

But she was gone.

Your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to break free. Bucky was already beside you, holding you, jaw clenched, watching the dark wall where Natasha had vanished.

"She didn’t even hesitate," you breathed.

"She wouldn’t," Bucky said quietly. "Not for Yelena."

The Void didn’t hum or crackle like a portal. It devoured. No light, no energy trail. Just silence and Natasha´s shadow on the ground. Oh and also the unsettling knowledge that wherever Natasha was now, she was most probably dead.

The Void didn't warn her before it shifted. One second, Natasha was running after Yelena, her lungs burning, mind focused only on her and the next, she was standing barefoot in a hallway of glass and steel.

Silence stretched like skin over bone.

Fluorescent lights above buzzed with that too-familiar flicker. The air smelled sterile, antiseptic, metal and something deeper beneath it. Rust. Oil. Blood dried into tile.

Her breath caught.

The Red Room.

It wasn’t a memory. It was something worse. Too vivid. Too sharp. Like it was alive again. Her boots were gone. Her tactical suit replaced by something tighter. A leotard. Bare legs. Bandaged toes. The smell grew stronger.

Snap.

The sharp crack of a cane echoed through the corridor. Her body flinched before she could think. Muscle memory. Fear memory.

Snap.

Another. Then another.

She turned a corner and entered the chamber. Dozens of mirrors greeted her, full-length, spotless, brutal. Their reflections stretched to infinity. But none of them showed her now. Not the Natasha she’d become. They showed the little girl she once was.

Eyes blank. Shoulders square. Lips sealed. She stood among the others, lined in perfect rows. Moving in sequence. Arms lifting in sync. Toes pointed to bleeding precision. A piano played softly in the corner. No soul in it. Just control.

"One mistake ruins the entire composition," came a voice behind her.

Natasha turned, slow. A man stood by the mirrors and his face half-lit, half-shadowed. Dreykov. No, not exactly. His features shifted with each blink, becoming her old instructors, her handlers, the ghosts of the men who carved her into a weapon. One second it was the ballet master. The next, the doctor who tested pressure points until she screamed. Then he was faceless. As if it didn’t matter who hurt her... only that they did.

"You didn’t stop," he whispered, smiling coldly. "You just changed targets."

Natasha’s lips parted. The words tasted like ash, "I know." Behind her, the girls danced harder. Faster.

Blood painted the floor beneath their feet. Crimson smears where toes should’ve been. One collapsed, ankle snapped, body shaking. No one helped her. No one stopped. Another girl took her place, stepping over the twitching body like she was nothing.

The mirrors showed all of it over and over filling Natasha’s vision with a kaleidoscope of pain. And there, in the very center, was a new reflection.

Yelena.

Not as she was now, but younger. A Red Room trainee. Dressed like the others. Dancing with a gun held to her head.

"Yelena-" Natasha stepped forward, hand outstretched.

The reflection didn’t flinch. It smiled. "You´re not a hero."

The cane cracked again, and Yelena screamed. But no sound came out. The floor pulsed beneath Natasha’s feet. The walls tightened. The air turned hot and thick and choking.

She turned sharply, eyes scanning the mirrors, trying to find her again. The images bled into one another. Girls strapped to tables. Needles piercing veins. The sound of soft lullabies sung in Russian while knives pressed into bone.

A reflection blinked. It wasn’t her.

It was Yelena. Not as a child, no. It was Yelena she saw just moments ago... at least that was what Natasha thought. Her heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the piano. She followed. Through shattered glass. Through the screams. Through a door that opened like a mouth, wide and red and breathing. And there she was.

"Yelena!" Natasha gasped, stepping forward.

Yelena didn’t run. She didn’t blink. She just opened her mouth. "You left me."

Natasha froze, "No- no, I came for you-"

"You left me to die."

The room was black, until it wasn´t. But screams ricocheted across the room like bullets. Red Room girls echoed the same words, their faces flickering between Yelena, Ana, Ava, dozens of widows she couldn’t save.

"You knew what they'd do to us."

"You got out, and you let us rot."

"Did you even think about me after you ran?"

"I didn’t mean to-" Natasha gasped, stumbling. "I- I didn’t mean to leave you…" Her voice cracked, small, desperate. "I didn’t mean to."

Yelena stepped back into the shadows, her face blank, disappearing like smoke.

"Yelena!" Natasha screamed.

Silence. Then even the piano stopped. And the room began to collapse. Not physically- but in spirit. The mirrors shattered all at once, raining shards of guilt. The dancers’ bodies crumpled. Blood drowned the floor.

Natasha turned and ran. Through the broken door, down a twisting hallway that churned beneath her feet like it was alive. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. She just ran.

She burst into the next room like a hunted animal, chest heaving, body shaking. The lights were dimmer here. Softer. The air warmer, but not safe. The scent hit her first.

Lavender.

Old wood.

Dust.

She knew this smell. The door behind her vanished. The screams faded. Natasha turned slowly and saw it... a small bedroom. Wooden floors. Faded wallpaper of stars and bears. A child’s drawings pinned crookedly to the wall. And a bed, low to the ground. The kind you hide under when the yelling starts.

Her knees buckled. She dropped down, crawling under the bed instinctively, like muscle memory. Like the child she had once been, curled up, knees to chest, trying not to make a sound. The shadows cradled her. The room dimmed further. And then came the voices.

"I told you- I told you- I can’t afford this!" Her father's voice. Ivan.

"Ivan, she’s your daughter too," came the soft, desperate reply. Her mother. Katerina. "Don’t talk about her like she’s a burden."

"Like what?" he snapped. "How the hell are we supposed to raise this kid, hm? You want her to live in this? You want her to become this?"

"You think I wanted this life either? But I’m trying."

"I’m trying too, dammit, but we’re drowning. And she- she doesn’t even know what’s going on."

The words hit Natasha harder than any bullet ever had. She tried to crawl out. She tried to reach them. But she was small again - no bigger than four or five. Her limbs too short, her voice too weak. She couldn’t see their faces.

No matter how hard she tried, every time she reached for them, the memory blurred. Just colors. A curve of her mother’s cheek, her father’s dark boots. The rest was fog.

"Katerina," her father said again, softer now. Tired. Resigned. "She’s not gonna have a future with us."

And then, more quietly than anything-

"Maybe, but she´s our daughter." Her mother was always trying to protect her, at least as much as she could remember.

"They gonna take her either way."

The world froze.

Taken.

Given away.

Her heart thudded. Her tiny hands clawed at the floor. "No," she whispered, but it was no use.

They didn’t hear her. She was alone under the bed. Left behind. Unwanted. Again. She curled tighter under the bed. Hands over her ears. Eyes shut. And the voices of her parents echoed through her mind.

She squeezed her eyes harder, nails biting into her scalp. "Stop," she whispered. "Please- stop."

The air shifted once again. Sweetness crept in, slow and familiar. A scent- cinnamon tea!

Home.

"Dinner’s ready!" The voice was sharp. Slightly impatient. Almost maternal, "girls, I’m not going to repeat myself!"

Natasha’s eyes snapped open. That voice. Melina.

Her pulse jumped as she scrambled out from under the bed, her limbs suddenly adult again, her body grown. Tears still smeared across her cheeks, chest heaving. The wooden bedroom was gone.

Ohio. Bright walls. The smell of food on the stove. The hum of an old radio. She followed it. Down the hall. Into the kitchen. And there they were.

Melina at the stove. Alexei nursing a beer. Little Yelena setting the table, singing off-key to the radio. And herself, even with the blue dyed hair.

For a second - just a second - it almost felt real. A small smile creaped on her face.

Then the lights shifted. The warmth bled out of the colors. Melina turned around, her smile too sharp. Her eyes too hollow. Alexei stood, hand on his gun already. Young Natasha tensed. Little Yelena’s humming faltered. The radio screeched. The sirens began to wail.

"Get the girls in the car," Melina said, her voice cool now. Practiced.

Alexei moved. The scene fractured, motion speeding up as if the Void couldn’t wait to rip it all away. Natasha stood frozen, watching her memory-self grab Yelena’s hand and run.

"No." Natasha whispered. She turned, grabbing for them. "No no no no-don’t go, don’t go out!" she yelled, chasing them.

She knew what came next. Melina - shot, blood on her mouth. Alexei - continuing with the plan The Red Room waiting at the other side like an open mouth.

"Stop it!" Natasha screamed, lunging forward. She tried to tackle her younger self, tried to pull little Yelena back by the arm. But it was like trying to hold wind.

The loop reset.

Melina turned. Smiled. "Dinner’s ready!"

Sirens. Panic. Running. Again.

"Please- don’t take them again."

"Let me stop it!"

"Let me CHANGE it!"

But the Void didn’t listen.

It played the tape over and over, her worst mistake on an endless reel. Powerless. Watching. Helpless.

"You knew what they’d do to us," little Yelena’s voice echoed faintly through the loop. "And you let him take us anyway."

Natasha fell to her knees in the middle of the hallway. Hands trembling, "I tried..." Tears spilled freely now, not for herself. But for the girls she couldn’t save. For the one she thought she did. For the one she followed into this hell, thinking she could protect her from it.

And now? What did she thought? She couldn’t even save her the first time.

She sat hunched in the hallway, her chest collapsing inwards. Her fingers shook. Her throat was raw. She could feel how much was the Void eating her alive, at least the little she had left. The looping images of Melina’s blooddy body, of Alexei dragging them to their fate replayed like a punishment. Again and again.

And then a new sound. A laugh. Rough. Familiar.

"Remind me why we came here again? Because we have a God on our side and they still sent us to this ice-cold rock with zero signal."

Her head jerked up.

No. No no no no-

Clint.

She staggered to her feet as the hallway bled away. The walls stretched, then shattered. Dark clouds over black cliffs. Cold wind screaming over stone.

Vormir.

Natasha blinked against the wind, stumbling forward and there they were. Her and Clint.

Walking slowly toward the cliff, something glowing faintly in the distance. The icy lake far below. He was smiling. That same stupid, tired smile he wore whenever he was terrified but didn’t want her to know.

She heard her own voice, muffled by the wind, alive again. "Oh come on," she’d said, "don’t tell me you’re afraid, Barton."

"Oh I’m terrified," he said. "You ever fall off a cliff? I’m not planning to start today."

Natasha’s chest clenched. She wanted to scream, run, go back, stop this. But her legs were frozen. Her mouth wouldn’t open. Her past-self looked at Clint with that glimmer in her eye, a challenge laced with sorrow. She hadn’t known how it would end.

But she did now. They approached the edge. The ghostly version of the Stonekeeper loomed behind them, silent.

"A soul for a soul."

And when they understood, their fight began like before. Both too stubborn. Too loyal. Too broken.

He tried to go first. She stopped him. She tried to go next. He tackled her. She punched. He threw. Their bodies clashed with desperate fury, neither one willing to let the other die. But then... she missed. He got the upper hand.

He jumped.

"CLINT!” her both versions screamed, reaching over the edge.

Too late. The thunder cracked above her. The sound of a body hitting the bottom echoed like a gunshot. The scene paused, silence. The only sound now was her own breath as her ghost-self crawled to the cliff’s edge, eyes wide, hand shaking. There it was. In her palm.

The Soul Stone.

Not hers to hold. But she held it anyway.

The colors of Vormir bled gray. The Stone pulsed, sickly orange. Clint’s voice came back, not present, but remembered, his last words. "Take care of them, Nat. Make it count."

The present Natasha fell to her knees at the edge of the cliff, trembling. The Soul Stone flickered into her hands, as if mocking her. Cold. Heavy. Useless. She didn’t remember how long she sat there. She only knew the ache in her ribs never left. And neither did the scream in her mind.

The air shimmered like heat over asphalt, and then broke.

You stumbled through the heavy veil, coughing at the thickness that clung to your skin like oil. A metallic tang sat on your tongue, wrong and sour. You pressed forward anyway, hand gripping tightly to the strap of your gear bag, knuckles white.

Beside you, Bucky shouldered the final door open with a grunt. It groaned like something alive. Inside was Yelena. Sitting next to Bob, who was crouching beside her, wringing his hands.

"Yelena!" you gasped, dropping to your knees.

Her eyes blinked slowly, unfocused. "You…?" she rasped. Then her brow creased. "You came for us?"

You reached for her hand instantly, "of course we did. We’re getting out of here. Whatever here is." You looked around.

Bucky offered a half-smile, reaching down to pull Bob up by the arm. "Good idea."

Yelena’s eyes darted between the two of you, still catching up, "you two… are okay?"

"I have a great past," Bucky deadpanned. "I’m completely fine."

You gave him a look, all of you, even Bob. Yelena scoffed weakly, then winced. Bob hovered beside her like an overgrown shadow, unsure of his place. Then your head turned. A sudden pang dropped in your chest. "… where’s Natasha?"

Yelena blinked, "Nat? What would she be doing here?"

"She came after you," you said quickly, voice picking up speed. "You went into the Void, and she followed you in."

The shift in Yelena was instant. Her whole body snapped to alert. "What?"

Bob stirred beside her. "She… she wasn’t supposed to be here. I didn’t see her- I didn’t know she-"

Yelena spun to you, eyes wide with a sudden fire, "she came in here?"

You nodded. For one heartbeat, no one moved.

"We have to find her," Yelena said sharply, already turning.

"She’ll be in the deepest layers," Bob muttered. His eyes were anxiously scanning the endless corridor behind you. "We’ll need to go room by room."

Yelena didn’t wait. She grabbed Bob by the wrist and yanked him toward the next door. "We don’t leave her behind."

You exchanged a breathless glance with Bucky, and the two of you followed, boots pounding the floor.

Somewhere behind one of these doors, Natasha Romanoff was still trapped. You need to find her. Doors slammed behind them as they ran. Yelena was in the lead, dragging Bob by the wrist with more force than necessary. Bucky moved like a hound with scent, and you...

You could feel something shift in your chest. A pull. You didn’t know how the Void chose where to take you next. But somehow, it listened. The hallway curved into something more warped, each door now larger, more jagged, shapes moving behind stained-glass windows. Screams. Laughter. Silence.

You threw open a door. A seven-foot chicken mascot lunged at you.

"What the hell-" Bucky started before the thing tackled him to the floor.

"OH MY GOD!" Bob shrieked and pointed frantically, eyes wild. "I WAS ON METH."

"Jesus Christ," Yelena muttered, backing up.

Bucky grunted as he threw the thing off him, then turned and punched it, "… okay," Bucky huffed, dusting himself off. "We’re done with that room."

"I hate this place," you muttered.

"I´m sorry," Bob mumbled.

"It´s not your fault," Yelena said without missing a beat.

But then your stomach dropped. Cold. Too cold. You looked up. The door ahead… it wasn’t like the others. Black. Still. No hint what was on the other side.

Only silence. A mountain wind drifted through. Your heart knew before your brain did. You stepped forward, slower this time.

"No," you whispered.

You reached for the handle. Turned it. And stepped onto Vormir.

Wind howled above a dead sea of stars. The sky was somehow purple black, like bruises over old bones. You stood frozen for a beat, feeling your lungs tighten with every breath. The others filed in behind you.

"What the hell is this?" Bucky asked, squinting. "Is this some alien moon?"

You didn’t answer.

Yelena looked around sharply, "where are we? What is this place?"

Bob was already shivering. Of couse they didn´t know. You turned slowly, your face pale. Your eyes met the cliff. And then you ran. You ran up the rocky slope, heart hammering like it remembered something before your mouth could say it. The others chased after you.

"(Y/N)!" Yelena shouted, "talk to us! What is this place?!"

You didn’t look back, "we’re on Vormir."

Bucky cursed under his breath, "Vormir?"

You reached the top of the cliff and stopped cold.

There she was.

Natasha.

Standing on the ledge, her back to you. Shoulders stiff. Hair whipping in the wind like a flame refusing to go out. In her hand, cradled like something too sacred to touch, was the Soul Stone.

You took a single step forward, "Nat?"

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even flinch. Just held that glowing fragment of loss tighter, like it would slip through her fingers and drag her down with it.

"Natasha," your voice broke around the name once again. Gentle. Urgent.

Nothing. She didn’t turn. Didn’t breathe. Because it was happening again. The Void was playing with her again. Voices. Footsteps. Promises. She squeezed the Stone tighter. This wasn’t real. None of it ever was.

"Nat, please," you tried again. "Yelena is here. She’s okay. She’s alive."

That word. Alive. It cut through the fog like a blade.

Natasha’s head jerked slightly, almost involuntarily. A twitch of her shoulders. Like something almost surfaced.

Behind you, Yelena took a trembling step forward, her voice cracked and full of something childlike and raw, "Natasha?"

Natasha turned. Slowly. Eyes wide. Unsure. Her gaze locked on Yelena like she was trying to recognize a ghost.

But then-

The Void toyed with her, like with a broken record... just again and again, until she would be broken completly.

You all froze as it unfolded in front of you, like the air itself peeled open. Two figures arguing near the cliff’s edge. Clint Barton. Natasha Romanoff. "What are you doing?" Clint’s voice echoed.

"I’m trying to save your life!"

They grappled. They pushed. They fought to die. And then... Clint won. You saw him leap. Everyone did. Her scream tore out of the wind like it had been buried there all along.

"NO!"

And the younger Natasha collapsed at the cliff’s edge, Soul Stone in hand. The glow on her face turned her into something otherworldly, something broken. Your Natasha - present-day Natasha - was staring at the scene, unmoving. Tears brimming. A crack widening behind her eyes.

You stepped closer, heart pounding. “Natasha. That isn’t now. That isn’t real.”

But she was locked in place, her voice hoarse, barely above the wind. "I watched him fall. I felt the stupid stone in my hand. It was warm. And heavy. And I remember thinking maybe it would be easier to just stay there. Let it take me. Let it all go quiet…"

"Nat..." your voice was quiet.

"I was just killer without him, he made me who I am. I´m- no one without him." She glanced back at the haunting loop of Clint leaping off the cliff again. Her voice cracked, "maybe I should just be no one again."

Your chest caved inward. But Yelena surged forward before you could respond, stepping between Natasha and the memory like she could physically shield her.

"Don’t you dare say that," Yelena spat, voice shaking, "don’t you dare talk like that."

Natasha’s eyes flicked to her, lost and wide.

"You think he’d want this? You think Clint gave his life for you to stand here and vanish into nothing?"

Natasha opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her lips trembled. "I should have gone back for you," she whispered. "After the Red Room. After I- after everything."

Yelena’s voice broke, "you did."

She stepped closer, grabbing Natasha’s hands. "I’m here. See? I’m with you. I’m real and I’m here and I’m not gonna leave you, ever again. I’m gonna be your annoying little ass forever, don’t you get that?"

A weak, cracked breath fell from Natasha’s lips, half a sob, half a laugh, but she still couldn’t step away.

Behind them, Bucky finally spoke, his voice low and certain. "Nat… you’re not a monster."

She didn’t turn to look at him, but her shoulders tightened.

"You’re a good person who had bad things happen to her. And you’re still here, still standing, still trying to do good in a world that’s made it so hard. That means something. That means everything."

You stepped in close now, your hand brushing against hers, and you finally saw her eyes, red and full of water, but looking back.

Really seeing you.

"We need you, Nat," you said softly. “Please. Come home with us."

The Soul Stone flickered in Natasha’s hand. Then the cliff behind her cracked. Darkness surged up from the edges of the Void, a roar of unseen rage peeling across the false sky. The ground quaked, and shadows spilled in like floodwater. The Void had realized it was losing her.

"No-" Natasha whispered, her footing shifting.

She turned, but her own memories were shifting now. Clint’s scream started again. The Red Room’s music. Screams. Gunshots. Yelena crying out her name-

"Natasha!" Yelena screamed.

The Void struck out. A spike of shadow lashed across the cliff, slamming toward Natasha’s chest. She didn't even flinch. But Yelena did. She threw herself at her sister, shoving Natasha backward just as the spike hit. They hit the ground hard, Natasha gasping as the breath knocked out of her lungs, but Yelena held her tight.

"I’ve got you!" Yelena shouted. “We´re in this together, you hear me? You’re my sister, and I’m not losing you again!"

The darkness shrieked.

"We need to go, like now," Bob blurted.

Bucky tilted his head, "Bob?"

But Bob’s face had gone pale, lips trembling, eyes flicking to the twisting sky above them. "He’s not gonna let us go," Bob whispered. "He- I- I don’t know if I can get us out. I don't know if I can do it. It´s all my fault-"

"Hey," you said gently, grabbing his arm, grounding him. "It’s okay. We got this, remember? Together."

Bob blinked at you. Then at Yelena, who was helping Natasha shakily to her feet. She gave him a quick, fierce nod. You’ve got this.

Bob’s breath hitched. Then he squared his shoulders, still shaking, but determined, "okay," he muttered. "Okay… I’ll lead the way. I’ll do it. I can do it."

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, "lead the way."

The Void howled behind you. But Bob lifted his hand, focused and a sliver of light split through the crumbling cliffside. A door. The way out.

"Go!" Bob shouted.

And so you ran, dragging Natasha between you, with Yelena’s arm tight around her waist. The shadows clawed at your heels, the wind screamed... But you ran together. Bob threw the door open.

And the moment the last of you crossed the threshold, the Void collapsed behind you like a dying star, devouring itself in silence.

The light was blinding. One by one, their bodies hit soft ground. The sun was rising, painting the horizon in sleepy gold and pale pinks. A bird cried somewhere in the distance.

No black fog. No black skies. No screaming.

Just… quiet.

Bucky was the first to groan, pushing himself up on one elbow, blinking at the treeline around them. "We’re out…"

Bob landed face-first and groaned into the grass. "I hate that place. I hate my brain."

You coughed, rolling over to see Yelena clutching Natasha, who hadn’t spoken since the Void spat you out. Her eyes were open, watching the clouds overhead like she still didn’t trust they were real.

Yelena brushed Natasha’s hair back gently, her voice hoarse. "We´re safe."

Natasha didn’t answer, but her hand slowly reached out, fingers curling into her sister’s. You let yourself fall back on the ground, eyes closing. Everything ached. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Whatever pieces you had left had been dragged to get back here.

But you were here.

And the Void was gone.

No more whispers. No more tricks. No more suffocating illusions or memories bent into weapons. Just cracked bones, tired hands, and the fragile, flickering light of dawn.

Souls don’t come out of a place like that unbroken. Not really.

But when Bucky helped Bob to his feet, they shared a crooked smile that was as close to victory as anything had felt in years.

When Yelena pressed her forehead to Natasha’s and whispered, "I’m not going anywhere," it was a vow pulled from the wreckage of a hundred lifetimes.

And when Natasha finally blinked, really blinked, and saw all of you, saw you, still there, still reaching for her despite everything… She nodded, barely. A breath of acceptance. A promise that she’d try.

Because broken souls still fit together. And somehow, with all their missing pieces… they made each other whole.

They always had.

And they would again.

an2: this was such an interesting idea, also thunderbolts are amazing movie and I love it sm!!!!

[screaminglygay]

Welcome back

pairing: past!natasha romanoff x reader, wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you're back at the avengers compound - finally building a life of peace with wanda. but the past doesn't rest easily. natasha's bitterness rises the moment she sees you, and the tension finally boils over in a brutal confrontation. as old wounds reopen, wanda begins to spiral in her own doubts, just as you’re both finding happiness together.

warnings: angst!, emotional conflict, swearing, harsh words, jealousy, overthinking, unresolved tension, natasha being bitter, light smut, teasing, Pietro walking in on you, minor miscommunication, hurt feelings

word count: 11.8k

an: this was such a fun request to write, honestly had the best time diving into all the angst and messy emotions in this part:D thank you so much for all the love and support for this mini-series!<3

part one I part two I part three

You sat on your couch, your phone in your hand, staring at Fury’s contact like it might explode. It had been a while since you’d spoken to him like this… actually wanting something instead of turning him down.

But damn it, Wanda had gotten into your head. With a deep breath, you pressed the call button. Fury picked up on the second ring.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "To what do I owe the honor?"

You leaned back, exhaling, "I want to come back. But only as a trainer. Just the agents. No more, no less. And I want a normal schedule."

Silence.

Then, in that signature deadpan tone, Fury said, "Wouldn’t you like a Porsche with that too?"

You rolled your eyes, "I’m serious."

"So am I." Another pause. "See you at the usual time on Monday. And say thanks to Maximoff for me."

Your brows furrowed, "why?"

"For making up your mind." That made you sit up straight. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice before he hung up. You stared at your phone, everything clicking into place.

That sneaky little-

A knock at your door made you snap your head up. Right on time. When you swung the door open, Wanda stood there, looking as soft and lovely as ever, but you wasted no time.

"I know what you did," you said, crossing your arms. "Nice work."

She blinked, "what?"

"Sneaky little thing," you squinted at her.

Her lips curled into an amused smile, tilting her head. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

You stepped closer, leaning against the doorframe. "You’ve been playing the long game, haven’t you? Slowly getting in my head, dropping hints, making sure I’d call Fury on my own."

Wanda batted her lashes, "that’s absurd. I would never manipulate you like that."

You scoffed, "uh-huh. Right."

She grinned, stepping inside and letting her fingers trace up your arms. "I prefer the term… persuasive."

You shivered slightly at her touch, but you kept your composure. "Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?"

"Mm-hmm." She leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. "And are you mad about it?"

You sighed, feigning exasperation. "No, because it worked. I called Fury."

Wanda’s eyes lit up, and a proud smile spread across her face, "I knew you would."

You let out a soft laugh against her lips, "of course."

…

The morning felt heavier than it should have. You were sitting at the small dining table, mindlessly swirling your spoon in your cereal, staring at nothing in particular. Wanda, sitting across from you, noticed immediately.

"Alright," she said, setting down her coffee. "What’s up?"

You blinked out of your daze, "what?"

"You’re thinking way too loud." She tilted her head, amused. "First-day jitters?"

You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. "Now that I really think about it… isn’t it weird to just… go back?"

Wanda arched a brow. "Are you asking because of work? Or because of Natasha?"

Your lips parted, then closed again. "No… work of course not-" You hesitated. "Or… maybe both. I don’t know." You sighed, setting your spoon down. "It’s just… she’s there. It’s her place. And I’m just gonna waltz in like nothing happened?"

Wanda reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours. "I get it," she said softly. "But she’s not the only one there, and besides… Natasha mostly does Avengers missions now. She trains sometimes, sure, but Steve and Maria handle most of it. She’s barely in the training areas anymore."

That made you pause, "oh, okay."

Some of the weight in your chest lightened, but not all of it. Because now that your brain had gone down that road, something else came to mind.

Maria Hill. She was still there too.

You hadn’t really thought about her in a while, but the realization hit you now. Unlike with Natasha, there wasn’t anger, just… weird emotions. Undefined, but definitely there.

Wanda watched your face carefully, reading you like a book. "You just thought of someone else, didn’t you?"

You sighed, "Maria."

Wanda nodded, like she expected that. "You don’t have to interact with her if you don’t want to." And once again, she didn´t asked much, she just understood.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. "I know. It’s just… strange. Like stepping back into a past life I wasn’t sure I’d ever return to."

Wanda squeezed your hand. "It’s not a past life. It’s just another part of your story. And you’re walking in on your terms now."

You looked at her, taking in the warmth in her gaze. The unwavering belief in you.

It helped.

You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders. "Yeah. My terms."

Wanda grinned, "exactly." Then she smirked, nudging your foot under the table. "And if you ever get too in your head about it… just remember that you’re probably going to out-train half of them."

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head, "oh, yeah."

...

As you walked alongside Wanda toward the training center, your steps felt steady, but there was still that lingering unease. You glanced over at Wanda, who kept her pace casual, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if she were used to this space in a way that made you both feel comfortable and out of place all at once.

"So," Wanda broke the silence, her voice light but teasing, "what´s the first move?"

You hummed, "I´ll probably just test the waters, make sure where everyone stands, you know?"

Wanda smiled softly, nudging your shoulder with hers. "You’ll do fine. You’ve trained worse, right?"

You smirked, remembering the sheer chaos of trying to teach people who were barely able to say please and thank you. "Definitely. But this feels different. It’s been a while."

She smiled at you, but it softened into something more understanding. "Just remember why you’re here."

You nodded as you reached the entrance to the training area. The doors slid open, and you stopped just inside, feeling the buzz of energy from the group of agents waiting for you. They were ready, dressed in full tactical gear, standing in neat lines, some eyes bright with anticipation, others with a little more uncertainty.

"Alright," Wanda said, giving you a quick hug. "I’ll leave you to it. Do your thing. You’ve got this."

"Thanks, Wan," you said, returning her hug before stepping into the training space fully. She gave you a quick wave before walking away to attend to her own duties, leaving you standing in front of twenty very eager agents.

But now you realized… that you actually don´t know why are you here. But fake it till you make it, right? Once again, starting with a good tactic.

"Alright, listen up!" you called, your voice carrying easily across the room. "For those of you who don’t know me, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I’m your main trainer from now on. I’ll be pushing you all to your limits, and I expect the same in return. There will be no slacking off, no cutting corners. I’ve seen it all, and I’ll make sure you all earn every skill you walk out of here with."

You paused for a moment, watching their faces. There was a mixture of nervousness and excitement. You could see it, feel it… the anticipation was almost palpable.

"Now, today isn’t about perfection. It’s about seeing where you all stand." You motioned to the space around you. "We’re going to start with some basic drills to test your skill level and determine what you can do and what needs improvement. This isn’t a competition, it’s a learning experience. I need you all to give it your best, and I’ll be here to guide you."

Without further explanation, you had them start with a basic hand-to-hand combat drill, followed by agility and endurance exercises. As you moved from agent to agent, it quickly became clear that while there were a few standouts, most of them were still rough around the edges. Some couldn’t hold their stance correctly, others lacked the proper timing, and a couple couldn’t land a clean hit to save their lives.

You found yourself mentally noting where each one needed work, but the surprise was in how eager they all were. They were soaking in every bit of feedback, pushing themselves as hard as they could. It was refreshing.

As the last round of drills ended, you were about to offer some closing advice when you heard the familiar footsteps approaching. "Looks like you haven’t lost your touch," a voice drawled from behind you.

You turned around, your eyes narrowing in recognition. "Fury," you said, crossing your arms. "I should have known."

"You’re doing great," Fury said, his tone casual, though there was a hint of pride underneath. "I knew you’d pull this off."

You raised an eyebrow, your hands resting on your hips. "You’ve been watching me again, haven’t you?"

Fury didn’t miss a beat. "Needed to make sure you’d do your job right." He paused, glancing at the group of agents still catching their breath. "And it seems like you’ve done exactly that."

You snorted, shaking your head, "some things never change."

Fury chuckled, his lips pulling into a tight smile. "Hm. Just making sure the job gets done. You’ll always be the best at what you do."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Well, it’s nice to know you still have faith in me."

"Faith?" Fury raised an eyebrow. "I don’t need faith. I just need results." He gave you a meaningful glance. "And you always deliver. Just no more relationship issues, okay?"

You nodded, "yes sir," feeling that familiar mix of nerves and determination build in your chest. It wasn’t just about training these agents - it was about proving to yourself.

After you cleaned up, making sure the mats were properly set, the equipment put away, and everything was in order for the next session. It felt strangely familiar, like a routine you hadn’t even realized you missed. By the time you left the training center, the halls were quieter, the rush of the day settling into something calmer.

You took a quick shower in the locker rooms, letting the warm water ease the tension in your muscles. It wasn’t until you were making your way toward the main hall that you ran into Natasha. She looked just as surprised to see you as you were to run into her. She stopped mid-step, her green eyes scanning you, like she was trying to make sure you were really standing there.

"So," she finally said, crossing her arms, her voice casual, but you could hear the underlying curiosity. "You’re the new trainer, huh?"

You hesitated just slightly before nodding, "yeah…"

Natasha tilted her head, glancing over you like she was taking in the fact that you were really back. "What did you put them through today?"

"Basic drills, endurance, hand-to-hand. Just getting a feel for what they can do."

She nodded, "and?"

"They’ve got potential," you admitted. "But they’re nowhere near ready for fieldwork."

"Sounds about right," Natasha smirked at that.

There was a moment of silence between you, comfortable, but with something beneath it. Something unspoken. You shifted slightly, feeling the weight of it settle in.

"Listen, Nat," you said, glancing at her, "if this is weird for you… I can, you know-"

Natasha cut you off before you could finish. "Don’t worry about me." Her voice was steady, maybe too steady. "You said it yourself, it’s been some time, so…" she shrugged, like it was no big deal. But the way she averted her gaze for just a second, the way her fingers twitched slightly against her arm… it was a lie.

You pressed your lips together, not sure what to say to that. There was a weird awkwardness between you now, lingering in the air. It was strange - once, things between you and Natasha had been easy, natural. Now, it felt like walking on unsteady ground, both of you pretending you weren’t paying attention to the cracks beneath your feet.

You cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. "I uh- I should go. You know, back to the good old paperwork," you joked, forcing a small grin.

Natasha gave you a tight-lipped smile in return. "Have fun with that."

You nodded, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before turning and walking away. Even as you left, you could feel Natasha’s gaze lingering on you, the weight of something left unsaid pressing against your back.

Wanda found you not long after your awkward run-in with Natasha, leaning against the wall outside the training center, looking at your phone like you were trying to distract yourself. She didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, took your wrist, and started pulling you along with her. "Come on," she said, a knowing little smile on her lips. "You’re having lunch with me today."

You let out a soft chuckle but didn’t resist, letting Wanda lead you through the hallways of the compound. "Where are we going?" you asked.

"The Avengers’ living room," Wanda said simply, glancing at you with a smirk. "I’m making lunch, and you’re helping."

"Oh, am I?" You raised a brow.

"Yes," she said it like it was a fact of the universe.

By the time you reached the living space, the scent of spices and something warm was already filling the air. It was cozy in here, unlike the rest of the sleek, professional compound.

Wanda pulled you toward the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves before looking at you expectantly. "So," she started as she grabbed some ingredients from the counter, "how was your first day?"

You exhaled, leaning against the counter. "It was… good. Really good, actually." You couldn’t hide the way your face lit up. "The agents are eager to learn, which is nice. And even though I was just testing everything, I already have so many ideas on how to make the training better."

Wanda watched you with a small, fond smile as you rambled, hands animated as you explained how you set up drills and how the rookies needed to work on their stance. She could see it, you were shining, excitement radiating off you in a way that made her chest warm.

"I haven’t seen you this happy about something in a while," she murmured, reaching for the cutting board.

You paused for a second, processing her words. Then you gave a small nod. "Yeah… I think I really like it here, I mean it´s a first day, but I have really good feeling."

Wanda’s smile grew as she turned to you, placing a knife in your hand. "Good. Now help me chop these, since you’re so full of energy."

You laughed, shaking your head but complying. The two of you worked side by side, moving around the kitchen with ease. Wanda gave you instructions, but half the time, she was just teasing you, nudging you with her hip when you reached for the same thing, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear when it got in your face.

At one point, you handed her a spoon to stir the pot, and she hummed in satisfaction. "You know," she said, stirring slowly, "I think I should be given more credit."

You raised a brow, "for what?"

"For being very persuasive," she smirked. "I get what I want, after all."

You narrowed your eyes at her playfully. "Are you talking about getting me to come back here?"

She hummed, tilting her head, "maybe."

You let out a laugh, "well, you sneaky little thing, you have all the credit."

Wanda just grinned, leaning a little closer, her voice dropping into something softer, "hmm, I´ll take all the credit later, don´t worry."

You swallowed, heart skipping a little at the way she was looking at you. Lord help you. "Just focus on cooking, Maximoff," you muttered, nudging her away with your hip.

"I can multitask," she kissed your cheek quickly.

You smirked, setting the knife down and turning to Wanda with an amused look. "Oh, can you, hm?" you murmured, leaning in just a little, close enough that your breath ghosted against her skin.

Wanda blinked, her teasing smirk faltering for just a second before she composed herself. "Mhm," she hummed, tilting her chin slightly, feigning confidence. "I always do."

You let your fingers brush against her wrist as you leaned in a fraction closer, "is that so?"

Wanda swallowed, her eyes flickering to your lips before she smirked. And just when you thought you had the upper hand, she moved, her hands settling on your waist as she turned the tables. "You think you can win this game?" she murmured, voice low.

Your breath hitched, your plan backfiring spectacularly. "I-"

"You're cute when you try," Wanda whispered before pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the side of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the warmth of her lips linger. "Wanda-"

"Hm?" She hummed innocently, her lips brushing against your skin again, sending a shiver down your spine.

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head, "I don't need to read your mind to know what you want, Wan."

Wanda smirked against your neck. "Then what am I thinking right now? What do I need?" she murmured, pressing another teasing kiss just below your jaw.

Your fingers tightened around the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. "You're thinking… that if you keep this up, I'm going to burn our lunch."

Wanda pulled back just enough to look at you, her grin mischievous. "Oh, that would be tragic."

"Yeah, tragic," you deadpanned, though your pulse was still racing.

She chuckled before finally stepping back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. But the knowing look in her eyes told you she was more than pleased with herself. "Alright, alright," she said, grabbing the spoon again. "Let’s focus. Lunch first. I wouldn’t want to distract you too much."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, grabbing a towel and snapping it lightly at her hip. "Too late for that."

Wanda just giggled, completely unbothered, as she continued stirring the pot. "Maybe you should work on your focus, then," she teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. Flirty Wanda was dangerous, but you had to admit, you didn’t mind one bit. It´s the actual opposite.

As you finished plating the food, Wanda grinned, running a finger along the edge of the counter before turning to you with a smirk. "You listened so well," she murmured, her voice dropping into something softer, something very dangerous. She took a step closer, her hands pressing against the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you in. "Now look what we made. I´m so proud of us, malysh."

Your breath hitched as you looked up at her. She was too close. Her lips, her eyes, the teasing glint in them, god it was all too much. "Wanda-"

But before you could say anything else, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. You melted instantly, your hands gripping the counter behind you as her lips moved against yours, soft and warm, making your heart hammer against your ribs.

Her fingers brushed against your waist, and you could feel her smirk against your lips as she deepened the kiss, her body pressing against yours just enough to make your head spin-

"Ah, well, I was going to ask what’s for lunch, but I see you’re already having (Y/N)."

You practically jumped out of your skin, tearing away from Wanda with wide eyes.

"Pietro!" Wanda groaned, her forehead dropping against your shoulder as she shook with laughter.

You, on the other hand, felt your entire body heat up. "I- we were just-" You cleared your throat, your brain scrambling for something - anything - to say. "We have, um… a gou-lash?"

Pietro arched an eyebrow, looking vaguely unimpressed. "A gou-lash?" he repeated, clearly biting back laughter at the way you pronounced it.

Wanda, to her credit, just nodded, her lips twitching as she leaned against the counter with a smug smirk. "Yes. A delicious goulash."

You shot her a glare, but it was weak at best.

Pietro hummed, pretending to consider it. "Ah, great," he said before grabbing some plates and heading to the table. "Steve and Bucky are coming in a minute. Clint and Bruce, too. The rest are busy with work."

You exhaled, trying to regain your composure as you picked up a dish. Wanda, however, was still grinning like she won something.

"Don’t," you whispered as you passed by her.

"Don’t what?" she asked, voice all faux innocence.

You narrowed your eyes. "Just… don’t."

She only laughed, stealing a quick peck on your cheek before sauntering off to help Pietro with the table.

Lord have mercy.

Lunch was lively, the sound of utensils clinking against plates mingling with casual conversation. Your goulash was a success, despite Pietro’s teasing.

As you took another bite, Steve turned to you with an easy smile. "You know, I was thinking, I’d love to work with you on training the agents. I handle a lot of the physical assessments, but having someone like you around? It would make a real difference."

Your eyes widened slightly in excitement, setting your fork down. "That would be amazing! I already have so many ideas… drills, scenarios, real-world application stuff. Honestly, I’d love to collaborate with you on it."

Steve nodded approvingly. "That’s exactly what we need, someone who knows how the field works, not just textbook tactics."

Bucky, who had been quietly eating next to him, suddenly chimed in. "You should also focus on instinct training. A lot of rookies freeze up in real combat. They overthink instead of reacting."

You turned to him, eyes lighting up, "oh wow, yeah, that’s amazing, James-"

The entire table burst into laughter, and you blinked, confused for a moment before Bucky sighed, shaking his head, "Bucky is fine."

A smirk pulled at your lips. "Well, Bucky," you corrected with emphasis, "I think it would be nice to have a Sergeant show the recruits some moves. I mean, who better to train them than someone with actual battlefield experience?"

Steve chuckled, "I second that."

Bucky huffed, but you caught the amused glint in his eye. "Fine, but don’t expect me to give motivational speeches like Rogers."

"Damn, I was looking forward to those." You grinned, taking another bite of your food.

Across the table, Wanda was watching you, her expression soft and proud. She could see how seamlessly you were fitting in, how the team was warming up to you, and it made her happy, really happy.

She reached under the table, giving your knee a small squeeze. When you glanced at her, she simply smiled, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

You weren’t just back, you were glowing.

You hummed softly to yourself as you gathered the empty plates, stacking them with ease before moving toward the sink. The others had already started to clear out, leaving you to tidy up without much thought. And even though Tony has like dishwasher 3000, that even sings you a song, you like to just wash it in your hands, since it´s few plates.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve and Wanda lingered at the table, their voices hushed. Steve glanced at you briefly before turning back to Wanda. "Good call," he said simply.

Wanda tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Steve gave her a knowing look, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Bringing her back. I like seeing agent work like this."

Wanda looked down for a moment, fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. Then, softly, she admitted, "It’s nice, you know? To see her be happy… truly happy."

Steve nodded, but his expression held something, that Wanda couldn’t quite place until he spoke again. "I don’t think you really believe that," he said.

She frowned slightly, "what do you mean?"

"She’s not happy because she’s back at work," Steve said, keeping his voice low but firm. "She’s happy because of you, Wanda. It’s not that hard to see."

Wanda blinked, lips parting slightly, as if to refute it, but the words never came.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re the main reason she’s happy. I might not know her as well as you do, but even I can tell. And it´s funny that someone with the ability to read someone´s mind, can´t see that."

Wanda let out a small breath, her gaze drifting to you as you washed the dishes, completely unaware of their conversation. There was a softness in her eyes, the kind that only came when looking at something precious.

Steve gave Wanda one last knowing smile before pushing his chair back. "Well, I’ll leave you to it," he said, standing up. "Have a good rest of your day, Wanda."

Wanda nodded, still lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality. "You too, Steve."

"See you later. Can’t wait for the training!" Steve turned to you as he made his way toward the door.

You looked up from the sink, smiling, "me too, Steve!"

As Steve disappeared down the hall, Wanda finally made her way over to you, her expression practically glowing with warmth. You raised an eyebrow at the soft, dreamy look on her face.

"Are you this satisfied with lunch?" you teased, drying your hands on a towel.

Wanda let out a small laugh, tilting her head, "yeah, very," she said, voice dripping with sweetness, the kind that made your stomach flutter.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, "so you’re looking at me like that because of lunch?"

Wanda just smirked, reaching out to take your hand in hers, "mhm."

Something told you that wasn’t the full truth, but you weren’t complaining if it meant that she will look at you like that. Wanda’s fingers traced lazy circles on the back of your hand as the two of you lingered in the kitchen, neither in a rush to move. Simple moment, just standing close, the warmth of each other filling the small space, but it felt perfect.

You watched her, the way her lips curled into that soft, knowing smile, the way her eyes held nothing but affection. The words were out before you even had the chance to overthink them, "I love you."

Wanda blinked, her breath hitching slightly as her eyes widened in surprise. But the shock melted almost instantly into something even warmer, even softer. She squeezed your hand, "I love you too."

The smile that took over your face was unstoppable, and before you could say anything else, Wanda leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed or teasing, just right, like she wanted you to feel the weight of her words.

But of course, the moment couldn’t last forever.

The door creaked open, and a familiar voice broke through the quiet. "Oh- sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here."

You and Wanda pulled apart just in time to see Natasha standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

For a second, silence settled over the room, and the air felt a little heavier than before. Not tense, not necessarily uncomfortable, just… awkward.

Wanda shook her head, "It´s all okay."

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, "It´s all good."

Natasha nodded once, stepping in just far enough to lean against the counter. "alright." A pause, "you two made lunch?"

"Yeah," Wanda answered smoothly, her usual ease returning in an instant. "There’s still some left if you’re hungry."

Natasha glanced at the covered dishes before shaking her head. "Nah, I’ll grab something later." Her eyes flicked toward you for just a second before she pushed off the counter. "I should- yeah. I’ll see you both around."

And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind nothing but a faint trace of something unspoken. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Wanda gave your hand another squeeze, grounding you.

"She’s even more awkward now," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

Wanda chuckled softly beside you, reaching out to trace her fingers lightly over your wrist, "that does make sense."

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, "how so?"

"She’s figuring things out, just like you are," Wanda said simply, tilting her head slightly.

You exhaled, letting her words sink in. It was true, Natasha wasn’t the type to just say what was on her mind, not when it came to things like this. And honestly? Maybe neither were you.

Wanda nudged you playfully, "just don’t overthink it." You scoffed, shaking your head. "You both overthink things," she added with a teasing smirk, and you couldn’t even argue with that.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, nudging her back lightly. "I’ll try."

Wanda grinned, "good."

…

The next few weeks passed in a blur of training sessions, late-night talks with Wanda, and getting closer to the rest of the team. It was everything you hadn’t realized you needed - purpose, excitement, and the feeling of belonging.

Training the recruits was honestly fun. Working with Steve was even better than you’d expected, his experience blending well with your own teaching style. Bucky got involved too, his dry humor keeping the sessions light even when he was drilling technique into the agents. The rookies liked you a lot, and Fury? Though he’d never say it outright to others, but he was clearly proud of work.

And then there was Wanda.

She made everything even better. Whether it was sneaking kisses between sessions, teasing you mercilessly when you got competitive during sparring, or just the quiet nights spent in her room at the compound, curled up together after long days. You still mostly stayed at your apartment, but Wanda had a way of making both places feel like home.

Everything felt right.

Except for one thing.

Natasha.

As time went on, she seemed to be pulling away. It wasn’t anything obvious, she was still polite, still professional, still Natasha, but there was distance where there hadn’t been before. Conversations were shorter. Eye contact was rare. She never lingered after team meals or meetings when you were around.

You tried not to think too much about it. Like Wanda had said… you weren’t going to overthink it. So you tried as much as you could. That was until one time… you had asked Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha to join in, giving the recruits a taste of what it was like to fight against someone better, someone with experience, someone who could expose their weaknesses in seconds.

You had started with Bucky and Natasha, analyzing their tactics, breaking down their footwork and strategies for the agents to learn from. It was controlled, efficient, a perfect example of two highly skilled fighters who knew each other well.

Then it was Steve and Wanda. Watching her use her powers seamlessly in hand-to-hand combat was mesmerizing, and Steve handled it with practiced ease, adapting to her movements, showing the recruits how to counter abilities even when they were at a disadvantage.

And then… Wanda and Natasha.

At first, it was just another sparring match. Quick, sharp movements, testing each other’s defenses, both of them perfectly in control.

Until it wasn’t.

The intensity shifted.

Natasha’s strikes became sharper, her dodges tighter, her attacks more relentless. She wasn’t holding back anymore. Wanda adjusted, countering as best as she could, but Natasha was pressing her, forcing her to react rather than control the fight.

The recruits were quiet, watching with wide eyes.

You felt it before you fully registered it… something was off. Before you could intervene, Steve did. "All right, I think that’s enough," he said, stepping between them before it could escalate further. He kept his tone light, but there was an edge of authority in it. "Good demonstration. That’ll give the recruits something to think about."

You were already moving toward Wanda. "You okay?” you asked softly, searching her face for any signs of real harm.

She blinked, still processing, before nodding, "yeah, I’m fine. Just… didn´t expect that." She laughed it off.

Meanwhile, Natasha grabbed her things and left without another word. Steve hesitated only for a second before going after her. You turned back to Wanda, but Bucky was already there, offering her a water bottle. He gave you a nod, like he had things under control, so you let out a quiet breath and stepped back. You couldn’t focus on anything else. You needed to know what the hell that had been about.

So with soft kiss to Wanda’s forehead before stepping away. "I’ll be right back,” you murmured, squeezing her hand before turning on your heel and walking out of the training center.

No, rushing out.

Your heart was pounding, frustration buzzing beneath your skin as you searched for Natasha. It didn’t take long. You found her in one of the hallways, mid-argument with Steve. His arms were crossed, jaw set tight as Natasha spoke in sharp, clipped words, "I don’t care" she snapped. "It’s not my problem."

Steve exhaled through his nose, clearly trying to keep his patience. "You don’t have to make it one, but you could at least-"

The moment you stepped into view, Steve’s eyes flickered to yours. He sighed, shaking his head, before turning to Natasha, "figure it out," he muttered, then walked away, leaving the two of you alone.

Silence. Then, you broke it. "What the hell is your problem?!"

Natasha barely looked at you, "I don’t have one."

"Bullshit!"

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was forcing herself to stay calm, "just drop it."

"No. No, I won’t drop it, Natasha, because I am so sick of this" your voice wavered with anger, with something deeper, something raw.

"For weeks, you’ve been shutting me out, getting more and more distant, and I let it go. I listened when Wanda told me not to overthink it. But this? That wasn’t just a sparring match back there, and you know it."

Natasha scoffed, finally looking at you, but her expression was unreadable. Cold. "Why do you even care?"

You felt your stomach drop.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you refused to back down, "are you serious?"

She didn’t answer.

Your chest tightened. "I don’t know what your problem is, Natasha, but I’m done with this. If you have something to say, say it. Be an adult for god’s sake and just-"

"You moved on fast, didn’t you?"

Your words died in your throat. Natasha’s voice was sharp, cutting straight through you, but her expression stayed blank. A bitter laugh escaped your lips, "you’re kidding me."

She didn’t flinch.

"That’s what this is about?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "You think- what? That I wasn’t allowed to move on? That I was supposed to just sit around and wait for you, for you to finally stop playing around and realize that I care about you and not your status, not your past or where you came from- but you!"

Natasha’s jaw tightened, her silence speaking volumes.

"I waited for you, Natasha,” you seethed. "I waited until I realized that you cared more about people who flirted with you over your own girlfriend!"

Her green eyes flickered, but the mask stayed up, "looks like you’re fine now."

You let out a humorless chuckle, voice shaking, "you know what? Screw you. I am happy, Natasha. Truly happy. So why don’t you stick your head out of your ass and actually see that?"

Natasha’s eyes darkened, "for how long?"

You narrowed your eyes, "what?"

"How long until she picks someone else?" Natasha’s voice was calm, but her words dripped with venom, "because she will."

Your breath hitched.

"Don’t-" you warned, your fists clenching at your sides.

"She will," Natasha continued, stepping closer. "She’ll realize there’s someone better out there, someone less complicated, someone who doesn’t-"

"Don’t bring your insecurities into someone else," you snapped, cutting her off.

Natasha’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, "it’s the truth."

You shook your head, blinking back the sting in your eyes, "you don’t mean that."

Her gaze didn’t waver. "She’ll get sick of you."

You sucked in a breath.

"You’re so needy," Natasha continued, her voice colder than you’d ever heard it. "You need so much, and one day, she’s going to need a break from you."

The words slammed into your chest like a hammer, knocking the air out of you.

Your pulse roared in your ears as you stared at her, your throat burning. "Well, at least I care," you shot back. "At least I’m not some cold, empty killer who doesn’t give a shit about anyone."

Silence.

It was deafening.

You could hear both of your breaths, shaky and uneven. And then, for the first time in a long time, Natasha’s mask cracked. Her eyes glistened, and before she could stop it, a single tear slipped down her cheek. You parted your lips, but no words came out.

She turned away.

And then she was gone, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you standing there, breathless, heart pounding and crying. You wiped your face with the sleeve of your shirt, taking a deep breath before stepping into the gym. Your body ached from the tension still coursing through you, but you tried to shake it off as you walked inside. Wanda was there, quietly cleaning up the mats from training. She hadn’t noticed you yet, too lost in her own thoughts, until she did.

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly as she took you in. You knew she could hear it… your thoughts, loud and messy, tangled with guilt and frustration. "(Y/N)?" she asked softly, setting down the cloth she was holding.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "It’s nothing, I-"

"Don’t do that," Wanda interrupted, stepping closer, "I can feel it. What happened?"

Your chest tightened. You ran a hand down your face before you finally let out a heavy breath. "I found Natasha," you admitted. "We-" You hesitated, pressing your lips together before forcing the words out. "We fought. Badly."

Wanda’s eyes softened with concern, "what did she say?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head, "doesn’t matter."

Wanda crossed her arms, "I think it does." The last thing you truly needed was to have a fight with Wanda too.

You looked away, exhaling sharply. "I… I said she was a killer, Wanda." Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "The one thing she’s most vulnerable about, the one thing she probably hates herself for, and I-" Your breath caught in your throat. "I used it on her."

Wanda reached for your hand, squeezing it, "(Y/N)…"

"I weaponized it," you continued, your voice cracking. "That’s not who I am, Wanda. That’s not the kind of person I ever wanted to be."

"And I assume she also said something wrong?" You nodded, so Wanda squeezed your hand again, grounding you. "You both said wrong things."

"But I know better," you insisted, your voice raw. "I knew that would hurt her the most, and I still-" You exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through your hair. "God, this was a stupid idea. It was so stupid to come back here."

Wanda hesitated before speaking. "Well… it was my idea."

You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head, "yeah, but I agreed."

She sighed, watching you carefully, "do you regret it?"

"What?" you blinked at her, caught off guard.

"Being here," Wanda clarified. "Training again. Being with all of us."

You bit your lip, looking down. "No," you admitted after a moment, "not for a second."

Wanda nodded, giving your hand another squeeze. "Then that’s what matters."

You stayed close to Wanda for the rest of the evening, seeking comfort in her presence, unaware that something had shifted within her. She stayed by your side, held your hand when you needed grounding, whispered soft reassurances, but inside, she was battling her own thoughts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did. Natasha had been close for the two of you, and this fight, as messy as it was, had clearly hurt you. Wanda wanted to be the person you leaned on, the one who supported you through it. And she was.

But it gnawed at her.

The way you were so torn about Natasha. The way you spoke about hurting her, as if it wounded you just as much. The way your eyes had glistened with regret. Wanda tried to shake it off, tried to tell herself it was just because you were a good person. You cared deeply, and that was why she loved you.

But still. It hurt.

She could feel it creeping in, no matter how much she hated it. That little whisper of doubt. Would you ever be that upset about hurting her? Would you ever fight for her the way you fought for Natasha? Are you truly over Natasha?

She hated that her mind went there.

That night, she didn’t bring it up to you. She kissed you softly, held you a little tighter, but her mind was restless.

So, the next morning, she went to find Pietro. She found him in the common room, lazily flipping through TV channels. As soon as she walked in, he gave her a knowing look. "You’ve got that face," he remarked, smirking. "The ‘I’m overthinking everything’ face."

Wanda sighed, flopping onto the couch beside him, "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Cool," Pietro said, then turned back to the TV. "So… how’s the whole ‘my girlfriend cares so much about her ex-who-she-fought-with-and-it’s-really-bothering-me-but-I-don’t-want-to-admit-it’ thing going?"

Wanda groaned, shoving him, "shut up."

Pietro laughed but then glanced at her again. His smirk faded slightly, "wait. You’re actually upset."

She sighed, rubbing her temples, "I don’t want to be, I know she cares about Natasha. I know she’s just upset because she doesn’t like fighting with people she cares about."

"But?" Pietro prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda exhaled sharply. "But it hurts, Pietro. I love her. And I know she loves me, but-" Her voice faltered. "I can’t help but wonder if she´s… still in love with her."

Pietro frowned. He turned off the TV, setting the remote aside as he fully faced her. "Wanda…" He hesitated. "That’s… kind of a sucky feeling."

She let out a dry chuckle, "tell me about it."

He shifted, thinking for a moment. Then, he shrugged, "that’s why I stay single."

She rolled her eyes, "so helpful."

Pietro gave her a half-smile, but when he saw the real distress in her eyes, his expression softened. "I’m serious, though. I don’t know how to help with this. You and (Y/N) love each other. That’s obvious. But I think… I think you’re scared."

Wanda blinked, "of what?"

Pietro tilted his head, "of getting hurt."

Wanda pressed her lips together. Pietro continued, "You always act like you’re fine, like you don’t get jealous or upset, but you do. And that’s okay. But, Wands," he sighed, "if you don’t talk to (Y/N) about it, you’re just gonna keep overthinking until you explode. And I really don’t want to deal with that. Let someone else read you too, you know?"

She let out another sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, "I don’t want to make it a big deal."

"But it is a big deal to you," Pietro pointed out. "So talk to her before it turns into something worse."

Wanda didn’t respond immediately. She just stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. She hated feeling like this. But Pietro was right. And sooner or later, she’d have to say something. But Wanda isn´t the biggest talker, when it comes to her own feelings, so it´s gonna be later than sooner.

At first, you didn´t notice it. Wanda was still smiling at you, still curled into your side when you spend the night at the compound, still slipped her fingers through yours absentmindedly when you passed each other in the hall. But there was something… different.

She kissed you good morning, but it was shorter than usual. She held your hand, but her grip wasn´t as firm. When you teased her, she laughed, but it didn´t quite reach her eyes. It was subtle, but you know Wanda. And something was wrong.

It took a few days before you couldn´t ignore it anymore. She was folding her arms over her chest more, keeping just a bit of space between you. Her mind was louder than usual, unspoken thoughts swirled around her head like static. You tried not to overthink it, but eventually, you had to ask.

You waited until you’re alone, sitting together in your apartment. "Wanda," you said softly, reaching for her hand. "Are you okay?"

Her fingers twitched slightly before she pulled away, "yeah," she answered, too quickly. "I’m fine."

You gave her a look, "Wanda."

She sighed, rubbing her temples, and for the first time in days, she really looked at you. There was hesitation in her eyes, something raw and uncertain, and it made your stomach twist.

"I-" She stopped herself, brows furrowing before she took a shaky breath. "I don’t know how to say this without sounding… jealous. Or insecure. And I don’t want to be that person, but-"

You sat up straighter, heart already pounding, "Wanda, whatever it is, just tell me."

She looked down at her hands. "You and Natasha," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not just that she’s your ex. It’s the way you fought for her that day, the way you reacted when she left. I saw how much it hurt you."

You opened your mouth to respond, but she shakes her head, pushing forward. "And I get it, I do. I just-" She swallowed hard, eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something fragile. "I’m scared, (Y/N). What if she still has a part of your heart? What if one day, you fight against me the same way?"

You felt like the air has been knocked out of your lungs. "Wanda," you breathe.

She looked away, "I know it’s unfair. I trust you, I do. But I can’t help thinking about it, and I hate that." She clenched her fists. "I hate that she still affects you."

You reached for her again, gently taking her hands in yours. "Wanda," you said firmly, waiting until she meets your gaze. "I love you. And I choose you. Every single day."

She exhaleed shakily, her fingers tightening around yours, "I just don’t want to lose you," she whispered.

You squeezed her hands gently, your heart ached at the look in her eyes. Wanda, your Wanda, who had always been so sure, so steady, now looked at you like she’s terrified of losing you.

"I´m not going anywhere, okay?" your voice was quiet but firm. "I don’t have a place for Natasha as a lover in my heart." You shook your head, swallowing hard. "If anything, she was my friend first. That’s why I fought for her, why I- why I tried."

Wanda looked at you, searching your face for something… maybe reassurance, maybe the truth she already knew, but needed to hear again. Her voice was softer now, hesitant. "Not even a bit of her?"

You sighed, rubbing your thumb over her knuckles. "I can’t change that we were exes," you admited. "It’s… not usual… this situation. I just… I want to make you happy, I don´t want to make you upset." You held her gaze, making sure she understands, "it wansn´t mean to be, it is sad, but we´re here, I´m here with you and i wouldn´t trade it for anything."

Wanda watched you for a long moment, her shoulders slowly relaxing. She nodded, more to herself than to you. "Natasha is my friend too, you know." She let out a sharp breath. "I don’t… Fuck, I hate this."

You blinked in surprise at the sudden curse, eyes widening slightly. It’s rare for Wanda to swear so bluntly, especially when she was being so straightforward.

She gestured vaguely, frustration clear on her face. "It’s a stupid fucking situation."

Despite yourself, you chuckled, shaking your head, "tell me about it."

For a second, there wassilence. Then, finally, Wanda exhaled a laughed too, albeit a small one. And for the first time in days, things didn´t feel so heavy between you. And you promised to eachother that you would try to get out of this situation with zero losses, meaning that neither of you would lose yourselves or Natasha. At the end, she is a friend.

You hadn’t seen much of Natasha since your fight.

Actually, no one had.

She wasn’t just avoiding you, she was avoiding everyone. Steve, Tony, Wanda even Clint. She still showed up for missions, still did what she had to, but beyond that? She was a ghost.

So when Steve pulled her aside and said he had an emergency - two agents fighting, needing backup, she hadn’t expected this. So of course she helped him.

The moment Natasha rushed into the gym, you knew. Her eyes scanned the room wildly before landing on you, her breath still heavy from running over so fast. And when she realized what was actually happening, just you standing there, her face twisted in something unreadable.

You turned, looking at Steve, who simply stood by the door, arms crossed.

Natasha's posture stiffened instantly, her body already pivoting toward the exit. "Steve," she warned, reaching for the handle.

"Talk," he said simply. And then… click.

The sound of the lock sliding into place made you jolt slightly. You glanced between Steve and Natasha, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. It had been weeks since you last spoke. Since that horrible fight where you said things you couldn’t take back. Natasha pulled a hairpin from her pocket, quickly kneeling to pick the lock. But before she could even try, you exhaled, shaking your head.

"You can’t open it," you said, crossing your arms. "Even if you pick the lock. It’s one of Tony’s new systems. The door won’t budge unless Steve lets us out."

Natasha shot you a sharp look before turning back to Steve, who simply raised a brow.

"Guess you’re stuck," he said, then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you both standing in heavy silence.

Natasha sat on the ground, leaning back against the wall, her fingers absently toying with the pin she had tried to use on the lock. Her gaze was cast downward, jaw tight, and you could see the way her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to navigate this without letting too much slip.

You watched her for a long moment, arms crossed, shifting your weight between your feet, "this isn’t ideal, I know," you finally said, voice careful, measured. "I doubt either of us wanted to have this conversation. But we’re here."

Natasha stayed quiet.

You took a slow breath, pushing past the lump in your throat. "I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t mean it."

Her fingers stilled against the pin, but she didn’t lift her head.

You hesitated, forcing yourself to keep going. "That day, when I said what I did- I knew it was going to hurt. That’s why I said it." Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t stop. "I wanted to hurt you, the same way you were hurting me."

Silence.

Your chest ached at her lack of response, but you pushed forward anyway.

"I pushed you away," you admitted, voice quieter now. "And now I hate that we’re not even friends anymore." You swallowed hard, emotions threatening to overwhelm you, but you forced yourself to keep looking at her. Really looking at her. "You were a huge part of my life, Nat. That doesn’t just disappear."

Finally, finally, her head lifted slightly. Her green eyes met yours, but they weren’t sharp or guarded like before. They just looked… tired.

"I still want you to be a part of my life," you whispered.

Natasha exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally speaking. "I’m sorry too," she murmured, voice raw. "For everything. And… I don’t think you’re a lot to handle." She hesitated, then shook her head. "I know Wanda won’t ever get tired of you."

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You felt something in your chest unclench just slightly, like a weight had been lifted, like finally, you weren’t fighting against someone who refused to meet you halfway.

"I was a dick," Natasha added, glancing at you.

You huffed a soft laugh, crossing your arms, "yup."

Natasha scoffed, shaking her head, but there was the smallest hint of amusement there.

"But me too," you admitted.

Her lips twitched, barely a ghost of a smirk. "Always had to do the same thing, hm?"

You let out a breath, giving her a small shrug, "it’s what we do."

For a moment, silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t unbearable, it just hung there, fragile but not suffocating. Then Natasha exhaled again, pressing her palms against her knees, looking at nothing in particular. "I had one good thing," she said suddenly, voice quiet. "One thing in my life that felt real. And when we broke up, I lost it. I lost the only good part of me."

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t interrupt.

Natasha’s gaze was distant, like she was lost somewhere in the past. "I’ve never been certain of anything in my life, not really. Everything’s always been a mission, a directive, something to follow. But when I was with you…" She hesitated, fingers twitching slightly. "I thought I was certain. Even if I was terrified of it. And when I had the good thing, I wanted more and more, until the main reason why I was happy… I lost the main sorce of my happiness."

You swallowed hard, biting the inside of your cheek.

She let out a small, humorless chuckle. "I don’t even know what I’m saying right now."

"It’s okay." You reached out your hand, offering to help Natasha stand up.

And for the first time in a long time, Natasha didn’t pull away and took your hand.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before speaking, "I don’t regret it, you know."

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, "what?"

"Loving you," you clarifed, your voice steady but soft, "I don’t regret any of it."

She stared at you, like she’s not sure she heard you right. Like it physically hurts her to hear it. But you don’t stop.

"I’m with Wanda now, and I love her. I really, truly do," you continued, watching the way Natasha’s expression shifts, how she keeps her face neutral, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten slightly. "But that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real, or that I wish it didn’t happen. Because I don’t."

Natasha swallowed hard, looking away for a moment, like she needs to gather herself before she can respond.

"And I know how much you mean to Wanda," you went on. "She doesn’t say it out loud all the time, but I see it. She trusts you, looks up to you even. And Pietro… he’s starting to fit in, and I know a lot of that is because of you."

Natasha exhaled sharply, shaking her head, "I didn’t-"

"You did," you cut in, giving her a small, knowing smile. "Without you, neither of them would be getting comfortable here as easily as they are. And I just…" You paused, gathering the right words. "I see that you’ve changed. And I’m proud of you, Nat."

She looked at you then, really looked at you, like she’s trying to figure out if you mean it. Like she wanted to believe it but didn´t know if she’s allowed to.

"I’d be happy if we could be friends," you said gently. "Because I’d like that. I really would."

There’s a long pause before Natasha finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I would like that too."

Something in your chest eased, and when you step forward, arms open slightly, she hesitates only for a second before pulling you into a hug.

You held her tight, and she held you just as firmly, but there’s something else there, something breaking beneath the surface. Because this is closure. This is her realizing that no matter what, she can’t go back in time. And even though she said she want this, even though she does, it still hurts. Seeing you with someone else.

You pulled back just slightly, searching Natasha’s face, "so… we’re good?"

She met your gaze, nods. "Yeah. We’re good.”

Before you could said anything else, there’s a soft beep, and the lock on the door clicks open.

Natasha exhaled sharply, glancing toward it. Then she looked back at you, "if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go kill the famous Captain America."

You couldn´t help but chuckle, stepping aside so she can leave, "go easy on him," you said, though you both know she won’t.

Natasha gave you one last look before shaking her head with a smirk and walking out of the room.

You stood there for a moment, exhaling slowly. It’s like a weight has lifted off your chest. Things are not perfect, but at least you talked things through.

You found Wanda in the common area, lounging on the couch with a book in her lap. The moment she saw you, she smiled, setting it aside. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," you replied, dropping down beside her. You exhaled, letting yourself relax for the first time in what felt like days. "I talked to Natasha."

Wanda tilted her head, studying your expression, "and?"

You smiled, a genuine one this time. "We're good. I mean, as good as we can be. We're friends."

Wanda let out a relieved sigh, nodding. "I'm glad. It´s been a lot… she need a break"

"So do you," you pointed out, reaching for her hand. "But yeah, I’m happy. I think this is good for all of us."

Wanda squeezed your fingers gently, "yeah. I think so too."

Before you could say anything else, the door opened, and Natasha walked in. She looked around for a second before her eyes landed on you.

"So," you said with a smirk, "did you kick America's ass?"

Natasha smirked back, "of course I did."

Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head. But then Natasha’s expression shifted, and she looked at Wanda more seriously. "Can we talk?"

You blinked, exchanging a glance with Wanda. Oh.

Wanda shot you a look before turning back to Natasha, "um… yeah, sure."

You hesitated for a second, then stood up. "I’ll just… be over there," you said, motioning vaguely before slipping out of the room.

As you left, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of nervousness. Whatever Natasha wanted to say to Wanda… you just hoped it wouldn’t undo all the progress you had made.

Wanda crossed her arms as she watched you leave, then turned back to Natasha. "Alright," she said carefully. "What do you want to talk about?"

Natasha exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "I just…" She hesitated, like she was trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I wanted to make sure there’s no… weirdness. Between us."

Wanda arched an eyebrow. "No weirdness?"

Natasha shrugged, forcing a small smirk. "Yeah. You and me, we’re good, right?"

Wanda narrowed her eyes, seeing right through her. "You tell me."

Natasha held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. "Look, I just want you and (Y/N) to be happy, alright? That’s all I care about."

Wanda tilted her head, fingers tapping against her arm, "and that’s it?"

"That’s it," Natasha lied, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She could hear the way her voice wavered, could feel the ache in her chest. But she ignored it.

Wanda studied her, searching for something in her expression. "You don’t have to do that."

Natasha frowned, "do what?"

"Pretend," Wanda answered. "I know it hurts you."

Natasha’s frown deepened. "Don’t go inside my head," she muttered, her tone sharp.

Wanda stayed calm, but her expression remained firm. "I’m not," she said evenly. "But I know that if I did, I’d see that I’m right."

Natasha’s jaw tightened. Something in her shoulders went rigid, a flicker of something almost like panic in her eyes. "Don’t," she snapped, voice lower this time.

Wanda took a slow breath. "Then don’t lie."

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You think you know everything, don’t you?"

"No," Wanda admitted. "But I know enough."

Natasha clenched her fists at her sides, struggling to keep her emotions in check. "It doesn’t matter," she muttered, looking away.

"It does to me," Wanda said softly.

"Why?" Natasha asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. There was a quiet desperation in it, a frustration she wasn’t sure she could keep contained much longer. "Why do you care? You got what you wanted. You have her."

Wanda hesitated, then stepped forward. "Because you’re my friend too, you know," she said. "And I don’t hate you, even if sometimes I wish I did. It would make this a lot easier."

Natasha forced a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You and me both."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Wanda studied her, searching her face for something Natasha wasn’t sure she wanted to show. "You’re allowed to be upset, Nat," Wanda murmured.

Natasha scoffed. "What good would that do?"

"It’s better than pretending you’re fine when you’re not," Wanda said. Natasha sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore," she admitted, voice quieter now.

Wanda nodded, understanding. "Then figure it out. But don’t shut everyone out in the process."

Natasha still wouldn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the answer to all of this could somehow be found in the cracks beneath her feet. Wanda could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself so tightly, and she didn´t have to read her mind at all.

"You don’t have to say anything," Wanda said after a moment, her voice softer now, "but don’t pretend like this doesn’t hurt."

Natasha let out a breath, one that sounded just a little too shaky. "Of course it hurts," she muttered.

Wanda waited, giving her space to keep going, to say something real. And for once, Natasha didn’t fight it.

"I-" Natasha exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. "I know she’s happy with you," she said finally. "And I want that. I want her to be happy." She swallowed hard, shaking her head. "But I still-" She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stop.

Wanda nodded. "You still love her."

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, her hands tightening into fists, "yeah, I do."

Wanda could feel the weight of the confession, how much it was costing Natasha to say it out loud, especially to her. And for once, she didn’t feel jealousy creeping in. Just… sadness.

"But that doesn’t change anything," Natasha said quickly, as if trying to convince herself more than Wanda. "She’s not mine anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time."

"That doesn’t mean you can just switch it off," Wanda said gently.

Natasha sighed, finally looking up. "I know that, I tried that," she let out a chuckle. "But I also know I don’t want to lose her again. And I sure as hell don’t want to mess things up with you."

Wanda blinked, caught off guard, "with me?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her voice almost resigned. "I know I’ve been a pain in the ass, but… you’re important to her. And I- I don’t want to be the thing that puts a wedge between you two."

Wanda studied her for a long moment. There was no deception in Natasha’s face this time. No act, no pretense. Just raw, aching honesty.

"You won’t," Wanda promised. "Not if we don’t let it." Natasha huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not," Wanda admitted. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t try." Natasha didn’t answer right away. She just stared at nothing, shoulders slumped. She looked exhausted, drained in a way Wanda hadn’t seen before.

"I just… I miss what it felt like," Natasha said suddenly, voice so quiet Wanda almost missed it. "Being in love with her. Being loved by her." She exhaled. "It was the one good thing I had. And when I lost it, I lost the best part of me."

Wanda’s chest ached at the way she said it, like she truly believed it. "That’s not true," she said. "You’re more than who you were with her, Nat."

Natasha didn’t look convinced.

"You don’t have to lose her," Wanda continued. "Not completely. And you don’t have to lose yourself either."

Natasha let the words sink in, her throat working as she swallowed. "I want to believe that," she admitted.

"Then start trying."

Natasha huffed a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. "Look how the tables turn," she muttered, shaking her head. "You helping me out."

Wanda smiled, tilting her head slightly. "That’s what friends do.”

Natasha blinked at her, something twisting deep in her chest. Friends. It should feel like a relief, like something solid to hold on to, but all she could think was… why is she so nice?

She should hate her. She should resent her, should want nothing to do with her. After everything, after the hurt, the mess Natasha had made of things. But she didn’t.

Wanda looked at her for a long moment, as if she could hear every thought in Natasha’s head. And maybe she didn’t need her powers to do that, maybe she just knew.

"You held enough hate to yourself," Wanda said, voice steady. "I don´t see the point to adding up on that."

Natasha swallowed, her throat suddenly too tight.

"Love is-" she hesitated, searching for the right words. "Love is what holds a person together. What keeps them alive."

Natasha looked away, jaw clenching. She wanted to argue, to push back, to scoff at the idea of love being some great, saving force. But… wasn’t that why she was hurting? Because she had lost it?

Wanda sighed. "I know what it’s like to hold onto something so tightly because you’re afraid of what happens if you let go." She exhaled, softer now. "But you don’t have to hold on alone, Natasha."

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment. She didn’t know what she had expected from this conversation… maybe anger, maybe resentment. But not this. Not understanding.

When she opened them again, Wanda was still looking at her, still offering something Natasha wasn’t sure she deserved. But she wanted to. God, she wanted to.

So she just nodded. "Okay."

Wanda smiled, small but real. "Okay."

…

Weeks passed, and Natasha was really trying.

She helped you with recruits, running combat drills and teaching them how to spot weaknesses in an opponent. She sparred with Steve, listened to his endless lectures about teamwork, and even agreed to help Clint babysit on his rare nights off. She joined in on dinners with the rest of the Avengers, laughing at Tony’s terrible impressions and throwing in her own dry remarks that made everyone crack up.

She and Wanda found an easy rhythm on missions, covering each other, moving as a unit. There was no hesitation between them, no lingering tension. Just trust. And when you and Natasha sat together, talking shit about Fury’s ever-growing list of secrets, it almost felt like before.

Every friday night (if there was no missions or Tony´s parties) the common room was filled with laughter, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light over the group. It was movie night, something Tony had declared mandatory for "team bonding" (though everyone suspected he just liked forcing his bad taste in movies on the rest of them).

You were curled up against Wanda, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. She was warm, solid against you, and every now and then, she pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

Across the room, Steve was in the middle of a heated debate with Tony, arms crossed as he scowled. "Salted popcorn is objectively better," Steve argued, gesturing toward the bowl in his lap. "It’s simple, classic-"

"Boring," Tony interrupted, tossing a handful of caramel popcorn into his mouth. "You’re boring, Rogers."

"Caramel is just sugar pretending to be food," Steve shot back.

Bucky, lounging lazily with his feet up on the coffee table, raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you a billionaire? Why don’t we just make both and be done with this?"

Tony scoffed dramatically, waving a hand. "That’s not the point, Rust Bucket."

Natasha, sitting comfortably in the armchair beside them, smirked and looked over at Bucky. "Leave them. They’ll tire themselves out in a minute."

Bucky hummed in agreement, watching as Steve and Tony continued bickering like an old married couple. Natasha’s gaze flickered over to you and Wanda. Her expression softened as she took in the way. Wanda curled closer to you, the way you leaned into her touch without hesitation.

She flashed you both a small, easy smile. "You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?"

Wanda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Says the woman who ‘accidentally’ left The Notebook playing on loop last week."

Natasha scoffed, "That was Clint, and I stand by my alibi."

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was nice… this easy, teasing dynamic. Natasha seemed okay. She felt okay.

Everything was good.

Everything was normal.

Natasha sat back in her chair, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she watched the group around her. The warmth of their laughter, the way they bickered and teased, it should have felt like home. It should have been enough. It was before.

She turned her gaze back to you and Wanda, curled up together on the couch, lost in your own little world. She had smiled when she called you disgustingly cute, had even managed to make it sound teasing and light. But the words had burned as they left her lips, a quiet kind of agony twisting in her chest.

Because the truth was, it still hurt. It still felt like she was being ripped apart, piece by piece, every time she looked at you and knew you weren’t hers anymore.

And yet, no one noticed.

No one noticed the way her hands shook when she was alone, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white. No one noticed the way exhaustion clung to her bones, no matter how much she slept, if she even slept at all. No one noticed that her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, that they never had, not since she lost you.

No one noticed how, when she said she was happy for you, she had been lying… not to you, but to herself.

No one noticed that beneath it all, she still felt lost.

And this time, she was faking it so well that even she almost believed it.

Almost.

taglist: @starrycherie, @esposadejoyhuerta, @redroomgraduate, @seventeen-x

[screaminglygay]

New way back

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader, past!natasha romanoff x reader, wanda maximoff x reader

summary: after the tension becomes too much, you and natasha break up, leaving behind feelings neither of you can shake. you leave S.H.I.E.L.D. to start over, while natasha finds her place with the avengers. when the maximoff twins join, fate leads you to wanda in a quiet bookstore and what begins as something small slowly grows into something real. but the past never stays buried for long.

warnings: cursing, swearing, emotional angst, past relationship tension, natasha struggling with unresolved feelings, mild miscommunication, lingering heartbreak, slow healing

word count: 10k

an: i just want to say thank you - truly. I’m so happy people are enjoying this story, and your support means more than I can say. It’s been such a joy to write, and I appreciate every single comment<3

part one I part two I part three

It´s the end of the week, so of course there is another party going on. S.H.I.E.L.D. was worse than some collage campus. The music thumped through the walls, the steady bass vibrating through the floor as laughter and chatter filled the air. It was supposed to be a good night, an easy night. A chance to let go, to be close, to have fun together. But it wasn’t. Not for you.

Not when Natasha was across the room, leaning into Maria Hill, smirking at whatever she was whispering in her ear. Not when every little touch, every lingering glance, every laugh felt like it wasn’t meant for you anymore.

You had put up with a lot. You had swallowed the jealousy, reminded yourself that you trusted her, told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That she just wanted to be liked. That she was figuring things out.

But this?

This was your final straw.

You had waited for your moment, watching the way Maria touched her wrist, the way Natasha let her fingers trail down the length of her arm, the way she didn’t pull away.

But when your song came on… the one she used to pull you into her arms for without hesitation, you thought this would be the moment she remembered. The moment she’d look at you, smile, and tug you close like she always did.

You weaved through the crowd, heart pounding, gripping her wrist gently. "Nat! It’s our song!"

She turned her head, the hint of an annoyed expression flitting across her face before she smirked and turned back to Maria, rolling her eyes.

"See what I have to struggle with?" she said with a laugh, making sure Maria could hear.

You froze.

Maria giggled, nudging Natasha’s shoulder, clearly entertained. And that was it. That was all it took for your heart to crack, for everything inside you to shatter into something raw and unbearable. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

So you left. You pushed through the bodies, ignored the heat burning behind your eyes, ignored the way your hands shook, ignored everything until you made it up to the rooftop, where the cold air hit your skin like a slap.

It didn’t stop the tears from falling.

You curled your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking, and let them come. The sobs, the heartbreak, the frustration, the helplessness - everything you had been holding in, everything you had tried to push down.

You didn’t even hear her footsteps until she was there, standing in the doorway.

"There you are," Natasha said, as if this was normal. As if this was okay. "Maria’s about to play beer pong… figured you’d wanna watch."

You scoffed, wiping at your face, not bothering to hide how wrecked you looked. "Are you serious?"

Natasha frowned, stepping closer, "what-"

"I can’t do this anymore," you said, voice trembling, raw with emotion.

Natasha stilled, "baby-"

"No," you cut her off, shaking your head. "Don’t ‘baby’ me right now, Natasha. I’m done."

Her face fell, "wait-"

"You ignored me all night," you choked out, "for her. For them. I know you want people to like you. I get that. But when did I stop being enough?" The words were barely above a whisper, but they cut deeper than anything else.

Natasha’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. And in that silence, in that moment of hesitation, you saw it. You saw the way she didn’t have an answer. And that hurt more than anything.

You inhaled sharply, exhaling a broken laugh. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

You turned to leave, but her hand caught your wrist. "Wait," she whispered, voice barely audible.

You looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the fear, the desperation, the way she looked like she was about to lose something she had never thought she’d have.

But it was too late. You gently pulled your arm away. "I love you, Natasha," you said, voice cracking. "But I can’t keep trying to make this work when it’s only tearing me apart inside."

And with that, you walked away, leaving her standing there, alone. Lonelier than she had ever been.

The days after the break-up were long and filled with an aching emptiness that Natasha tried her best to ignore. She plastered a cool girl exterior over everything, pretending that the world was just as it had always been - full of admirers and fleeting smiles. She didn’t want anyone to see how much it hurt, how much she regretted everything. Natasha had a reputation to uphold, and she would be damned if she let anyone see her broken.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t stand to be around it anymore. The flirting, the constant validation she was chasing from everyone but you, it left a bitter taste in your mouth. The thing was, you love her - loved her for who she was, not the show she put on for everyone else. But you were done. You needed to get away. For your own peace, for your own sanity.

You packed your things quietly, knowing that it would be difficult to leave behind the life you had built at S.H.I.E.L.D. But in the end, you realized that you couldn’t continue to fight for something that wasn’t meant to be. So, you made the decision. You were done. Standing in front of Fury’s desk was something that made your heart beat a little faster, but right now? You were calm. Completly.

"You’re one of the best scoring agent we have," Fury said, eyes narrowed, his voice firm. "You can’t just leave, (Y/L/N)"

His words cut through the air like a warning, but you already knew what you had to do. "I have to, sir." You said, your voice calm, but my heart heavy. "I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s not good to mix personal life with work. You’ve said it yourself."

Fury’s gaze softened for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by the usual steely professionalism. He knew. He could see it. But he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

"You’re a damn good agent, (Y/L/N),” he muttered, almost to himself. "The door will be always open for you. Just so you know. Good luck,” he said quietly, his eyes giving you a nod of respect and with a shake of his hand you said your last goodbye.

You didn’t know what would come next. All you knew was that it was time to move on, to find peace somewhere else. And as you walked out of S.H.I.E.L.D.´s walls for the last time, you couldn’t help but wonder if Natasha would ever realize how much it hurt you. And how much you loved her for being her. For being your Natasha.

…

Time had a funny way of softening old wounds. Leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. had felt like cutting off a part of yourself at first, but in the end, it was the best thing you ever did. You found something new, something that didn’t revolve around stealth, danger, or constantly feeling like you had to fight for your place.

Now, you worked as a personal trainer at a gym in the city. It was a different kind of discipline - pushing people to be their best, celebrating their progress, watching them grow stronger. It felt good, fulfilling in a way you hadn’t expected. Your apartment was nice, filled with books and small comforts that made it feel like home. Life was steady. Life was good.

And then you met her.

It happened in the most unexpected, mundane way at a bookstore. You had been eyeing a deluxe edition of this book ferever, fingers just about to close around it when another hand reached for the same copy.

"Oh," you blinked, turning your head to find a pair of deep green eyes looking back at you. The woman in front of you smiled, a little sheepish but undeniably charming.

"Guess we have good taste," she said, her accent lilting around the words. You can´t place it, but it sounds Slavic-ish?

You let out a small laugh, your hand hesitating on the book. "Seems like it."

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could tell she wanted it, but she wasn’t being pushy about it. Just waiting. "You should take it," you said finally, stepping back.

Her brows lifted, "are you sure?"

You nodded, "yeah. I’ll find it another time."

Wanda glanced between you and the book, then back to you again, as if debating something. And then, with a small smirk, she tilted her head. "Well… if you’re letting me have the book, can I at least buy you a coffee?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer, but there was something so warm in the way she said it. Genuine.

You smiled, "you don’t have to do that."

"I know," she shrugged, "but I’d like to."

And somehow, fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in a cozy little café, two cups of coffee between you, lost in conversation about books, stories, and the kind of worlds that made reality feel a little more magical. She was smart, funny, and had this way of looking at you like she actually listens everything you were saying.

"So, you’re new to the city?" you asked, fingers curled around your coffee cup as you watched Wanda stir hers absentmindedly.

She nodded, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I just moved here with my brother, Pietro… for work."

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your drink. "Work, huh? Sounds mysterious."

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "Nothing too exciting. At least, not yet." There’s a flicker of something behind her eyes, but it’s gone before you could place it. Instead, she leaned forward slightly. "What about you? Have you always lived in New York?"

You shook your head, "not always, but I’ve been here for a while. Long enough to call it home."

"Then I guess I should be asking you for tips," she chuckled.

You grinned, "well, first tip... don’t let the city chew you up and spit you out."

She smirked, "that’s very reassuring."

"I mean it in a good way," you laughed. "New York has this… way of testing you, but if you find your rhythm, it can be amazing. I hope you end up liking it here."

Wanda tilted her head, considering your words, "I think I already do."

There’s something in the way she said it, a certain softness to her voice that made your stomach flip, but before you could dwell on it, she asked, "what do you do for work?"

"I’m a personal trainer," you replied, and when Wanda’s eyes widened slightly, you added, "yeah, I know. Not what you were expecting?"

She shakeed her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "No, I just… I guess I didn’t think about it. But it makes sense."

You arched a brow. "Oh? And what exactly makes sense about it?"

She took a slow sip of her coffee, like she´s considering how to answer. Then, she gestured vaguely toward you. "I don’t know, you just… have this way of carrying yourself. Strong, confident." She paused, her smile turning a little teasing. "And you did let me have the book, so clearly, you’re generous, too."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Generosity has nothing to do with it. I just didn’t want to wrestle someone in the middle of a bookstore."

"That’s a shame," Wanda mused. "I think I’d have put up a good fight."

You chuckled, shaking your head at her. The conversation flowed so easily, like you’ve known her longer than just a handful of minutes.

It was… nice. Comfortable. And as Wanda watched you over the rim of her cup, eyes bright with amusement, you realized that - maybe - this little coffee date was exactly what you needed.

"You have an accent," you remarked, tilting your head curiously. "Where are you from, if you don´t mind me asking?"

Wanda put her coffee cup down and smiled softly, "Sokovia."

Your expression faltered for just a second. Sokovia. You know that name. You’ve heard it on the news, read about it online. The devastation, the aftermath… the way an entire country became a cautionary tale in the wake of destruction. You weren’t there, you didn’t live through it, but you remember seeing the images, the headlines.

"Oh… I’m sorry about that," you said gently, unsure if there’s a right way to address something like that.

Wanda hesitated, something flickering in her eyes before she shakes her head. "It’s okay," she said, voice quiet. "I just… I kind of realized over the years that home is wherever my brother is."

You took a slow breath, nodding, knowing how it feels to follow your brother everywhere. "Yeah. I get that."

For a moment, the two of you sat there, the weight of the conversation settling in the space between you. Then, Wanda offered a small, reassuring smile. "So, what about you?" she asked, shifting the topic slightly. "Do you have family around?"

You hesitated, the question stirring up a mix of emotions, but you just gave her a small shrug. "Not really. But I’ve built something for myself here. I like it."

Wanda studied you for a moment before nodding. "That’s very nice."

You held her gaze for a second longer before clearing your throat and offering a small smile. "Guess we both kind of found a new start, huh?"

Wanda chuckled softly. "Yeah. Seems that way."

And just like that, the conversation shifted again back to lighter things, to book recommendations and the best coffee spots in the city. But there was an unspoken understanding lingering between you, something that made the moment feel… easy. Like maybe you’ve stumbled across someone who understood you more than you´ve expected.

…

Over the years, you weren’t the only one who had worked on yourself. Natasha had, too.

At this point in her life, she had changed in ways you never could have imagined back then. She had gone to therapy - really gone, not just brushed it off. She had done the work, faced the wounds she used to cover with charm and distraction, and slowly, she had started healing. She learned how to be still with herself, how to sit with her emotions instead of burying them under layers of flirtation and detachment. She explored who she wanted to be, who she considered family. And the Avengers? They became that for her.

Now, Natasha was sure of herself, grounded in a way she never used to be. She had grown into the strong, steady woman the world now knew as The Black Widow… not just a name, not just a title, but a person who had fought for the right to be something more than a weapon.

And after Sokovia, she and Wanda had become casual friends. Not inseparable, not the closest of confidants, but they got along well. They worked together, trained together, laughed together when the moment allowed it. She tried to welcome Wanda and her brother, Pietro, as people and not as addition to the team. Because she knows what it feels like to be seen as a thing and not as a person.

Natasha had spent years learning how to be human. And now, she was.

So Natasha had taken it upon herself to make sure the Maximoff twins had everything they needed. It wasn’t an obligation, no one had asked her to do it. But she knew what it was like to be thrown into a new life, into a new world, and expected to just… figure it out.

So she made sure they had a place in the team, that they knew they weren’t just there because they were useful but because they belonged. She checked in, made sure they were settling in, reminded them that despite the chaos of the city, they had a home here. But she also knew better than to hover. Letting the twins find their own way was just as important as guiding them, so she stepped back. Pietro, of course, took to New York like he had been born for it. He was reckless, fast, endlessly amused by the sheer energy of the city. He explored every corner, tested every limit, and never seemed to stay in one place for long.

Wanda, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She enjoyed her time alone, quietly taking in this new life instead of running headfirst into it. And Natasha respected that. She gave Wanda the space to breathe, to process, to figure things out in her own way.

And Wanda did figure it out.

With you.

Which was ironic, really.

Neither of you knew it yet, but while Natasha had been stepping back to let Wanda find her own path, that path had quietly led to you. And it wasn’t like Wanda had meant to keep being it a secret, she just hadn’t mentioned it. She wasn’t the type to spill her personal life into casual conversation, and it wasn’t like she and Natasha were close enough to share those kinds of things. They worked together, laughed on occasion, but there was no deep, personal friendship that would lead to late-night confessions over a bottle of whiskey.

So she never told Natasha she was seeing someone.

And Natasha never thought to ask.

…

Getting to know Wanda was like unwrapping a gift. Slow, careful, peeling back layers one at a time. She wasn’t closed off, not really, but she was careful. Thoughtful. Like she was still figuring herself out, still deciding what pieces of herself she was ready to share. You didn’t mind.

You liked learning about her, bit by bit. The way she always hummed under her breath when she was reading, the way she tilted her head when she was listening, the way her accent softened when she got comfortable. The way she fidget with her silver rings. The way she smiled at every single puppy you saw on your walks.

She was learning about you too. Maybe in a more direct way than you realized.

Because sometimes, when you sat together, Wanda could hear the static hum of your thoughts. It wasn’t on purpose, she was still learning to control her powers, still figuring out the line between listening and intruding. And it wasn’t all the time. But when your thoughts got loud, when your overthinking started to spiral, she could feel it, like a quiet buzz in the back of her mind.

She never said anything about it. Never wanted to admit that she knew when you were doubting yourself, when you were wondering if she actually liked you, if this thing that´s going on between you was real.

But she knew. And she hated that she knew.

Because she liked you. A lot. And she wanted to tell you the truth about everything before it got too far, before you found out some other way. So, after a few dates, she finally sat you down.

"I need to tell you something," she said, chewing on her lip as she watched your expression carefully.

"Okay?" you said, setting your drink down, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

"My brother and I…"she took a deep breath. "We’re Avengers."

There was a beat of silence.

You blinked.

And then, like a switch flipping, your expression shifted into pure surprise. "Oh."

"I wanted to tell you sooner, I just-" Wanda hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly against the table. "I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay just because of-"

"Wait, so you’re-" You shook your head, trying to process it all. "That’s… wow."

She stared at you, waiting for something, maybe for you to leave, maybe for you to say it was too much.

But then you laughed.

And it startled her, because that was the last reaction she expected, "what?" Wanda asked, still tense.

You leaned back, shaking your head in amusement. "That’s funny, because I used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

Now it was Wanda’s turn to blink. "…what?"

"I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. for years," you admitted with a small grin. "It’s actually how I know about everything that happened with Sokovia. I try to keep up with all that stuff."

For a second, Wanda just stared.

And then, to your relief, she laughed too. "This whole time," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "We’ve been dancing around this, and you-"

"… are an Avenger," you finished for her, still smiling.

Wanda sighed, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. "Well, in that case… does that mean you’ll come as my plus-one to the housewarming party next week, it´s this silly, but maybe you would like to?"

You pretended to think about it, then grinned. "Yeah. I will."

The conversation flowed naturally, like it always did with Wanda. After the initial shock of her being an Avenger had settled, you found yourself telling her about your time in S.H.I.E.L.D. - how it started, when you left, and everything in between.

Wanda listened intently, her eyes soft and thoughtful. "You must’ve been good," she murmured, "if Fury was upset about you leaving."

You scoffed. "I was one of the best. Not to brag, but I have the scores to prove it."

She smiled at that, but there was something deeper behind it, "and… do you miss it?"

You thought about it for a second, then shook your head. "Not really. I liked the work, but not the way it messed with my life. Leaving was the right choice."

Wanda nodded, even though she doesn´t know the whole truth behind your words.

Then, after a quiet pause, she finally opened up about her own reasons for joining the Avengers. "I didn’t really have a choice," she admitted. "After Sokovia… after losing my parents, then Pietro and I being used the way we were… I didn’t have anywhere else to go. And Steve, he made me feel like I could be something more. Like I wasn’t just a weapon."

You softened at her words, hearing about the good heart of The Steve Rogers once again. "You’re not."

She met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you before she cleared her throat. "My powers," she started, glancing down at her hands, "they were an accident. Something done to me, not something I was born with. And I’m still learning to control them."

You tilted your head, interested in Wanda´s powers. "What exactly can you do?"

She smirked slightly. "You really want to know?"

You nodded.

"Well…" Wanda lifted a hand, the tips of her fingers glowing a deep, soft red. "I can move things without touching them."

As if to prove her point, the grass nearby shifted slightly, and before you could react, a few wildflowers lifted from the ground, floating up in the air. Your eyes widened as they twirled and swayed as if carried by a gentle breeze, slowly weaving together into a perfectly arranged bouquet.

Your mouth parted slightly.

Then, Wanda held it out to you. "For you."

You took it carefully, eyes still locked onto her, blush slightly creeping on your face.

"That’s… wow," you shook your head in disbelief, then looked back up at her as you hear her voice in your head.

"Plus this," she smiled at you.

"Mind thing, huh?" you said out loud with a small smirk.

Wanda smiled, a little amused by your reaction. “Uh-huh.”

You exhaled dramatically. "Oh, that’s just great. Now I have to worry about you knowing all my embarrassing thoughts?"

She laughed, a soft and happy sound. "I don’t listen on purpose. But sometimes I can… feel things."

Your cheeks warmed at the thought. "Like what?"

Wanda tilted her head, watching you closely, "like right now… I can feel how much you like me."

You immediately looked away, face heating up even more. "Oh my God."

Wanda giggled. "It’s cute."

You groaned into your hands. "I hate this."

"No, you don’t." She reached forward, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

And when you looked up at her, you knew what was about to happen before it even did. She was close, closer than before, her green eyes locked onto yours, her fingers still curled around your wrists. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you didn’t move away. You didn’t want to.

And when she leaned in, you met her halfway. The kiss was soft, warm, and everything you didn’t realize you’d been waiting for. The only thing you had in your head was pure gay panic, tiny little voice that was making so much noise in your head.

When she pulled away, she was smiling, hearing everything your mind is yelling. "See? I knew you liked me."

You sighed, shaking your head fondly, "shut up and kiss me again."

And she did.

...

The transition from casual dates to something more had been seamless, like the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t a question of if but when, and at some point, it just was. Maybe it was the way Wanda always reached for your hand, or the way you leaned into her touch instinctively. Maybe it was the way she started leaving a spare sweatshirt at your place, or the way she curled into your arms on the couch without hesitation.

Whatever it was, it led to this moment.

One evening, after a long day, you were both curled up on your couch, your legs tangled together as you scrolled through a movie selection. Wanda was playing with your fingers absentmindedly, her head resting against your shoulder.

Then, she spoke. "So… are we, like, together?"

You blinked, turning to look at her.

She was smirking, though there was a softness in her eyes. "Because I kinda assumed we were, but you haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend yet."

You huffed a laugh, nudging her playfully, "oh, I haven’t, huh?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

You pretended to think, "well… Wanda Maximoff, will you be my girlfriend?"

She grinned, shifting to straddle your lap. "Hmm… I don’t know. I might need a little convincing."

"Oh, is that so?" You laughed, wrapping your arms around her waist.

She hummed in response, her face inching closer to yours, "mmhm.” And then she kissed you. That was all the convincing she needed.

…

You were focused on stirring the pasta sauce, listening as Wanda absentmindedly chatted from her spot at the kitchen counter, flipping through a book. "Oh, I was talking to Natasha the other day," she said casually. "She was overseeing some training sessions."

Your stirring slowed.

You knew, of course, that Natasha was an Avenger now - one of the Avengers. And you also knew that Wanda was part of the team, which meant…

Your stomach flipped.

"Wait," you said, turning to her. "She’s- she’s going to be at the party, isn’t she?"

Wanda looked up, confused at the shift in your tone. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

You hesitated, exhaling sharply. Well. Now was as good a time as any.

Setting the spoon down, you leaned against the counter. "Okay, so… I should probably tell you something."

Wanda closed the book, giving you her full attention. "Alright." She tried her best not to read your mind, not because she would like to get into your privacy, but because she still has some issues with keeping her powers controlled, especially when her nerves were on the surface.

You met her gaze, feeling surprisingly nervous. "Before I left S.H.I.E.L.D… I was in a relationship with Natasha."

Her eyes widened slightly, "oh."

You watched her carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, but she just seemed… curious. "It wasn’t a nasty breakup or anything," you continued. "It just- we weren´t meant to be. And then I left. Haven’t seen her since."

Wanda nodded slowly, absorbing the information, "not a nasty breakup..." she nodded, "and you’re telling me this because…?"

"Because I don’t want there to be any weird surprises at the party," you admitted. "And because I want to be upfront with you. I’m over her, Wanda. Completely. And I’m happy. With you."

That got you a smile from her. Wanda leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter. "You are?"

"I really am," you stepped closer, your hands settling on her waist. She studied your face for a moment before nodding, "okay."

You blinked, "okay?"

She smiled, "yeah. You told me. You didn’t have to, but you did. I appreciate that."

Your shoulders relaxed. "You’re… not like weirded out?"

She shook her head, "not at all. Natasha’s great, but if you say you’re over her, I believe you."

A smirk tugged at your lips, "you’re very reasonable, you know that?"

"Well, one of us has to be," she chuckled.

You laughed, nudging her playfully before leaning in to kiss her - slow and sweet. When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together.

"Healthy communication," you teased. "Look at us."

She hummed in amusement. "Aren’t we just the best couple ever?"

You grinned, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. "Yeah, I think we might be."

As you and Wanda settled at the table, plates full of pasta steaming in front of you, the conversation naturally flowed into talk about the team. "So, Pietro has been non-stop asking about you," Wanda said, twirling some spaghetti around her fork. "I think he’s more excited to meet you than he was about getting his new suit."

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink, "oh yeah?"

She nodded, "he keeps saying things like, ‘Wanda, is she cool? Does she have cool stories? Does she like fast people?’"

You laughed at the imitation, "wonderful." You chuckled and then add. "It's a pity I didn't get to meet Pietro last week. I was kinda looking forward to it."

Wanda smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, trust me, no need to be sad about it. You're gonna get more than enough of him at the party. He’s… a lot in social settings."

You chuckled. "That sounds like a warning."

"It is a warning," she teased. "But you’ll like him, I promise. And he’ll like you. Maybe too much."

You raised an eyebrow at her. "Too much?"

Wanda sighed dramatically. "I just know he's going to claim you as his new best friend the second you two hit it off. And then I’ll never hear the end of it."

You laughed, "well, I guess I'll have to prepare myself."

She smiled and took a bite of her food. After a moment, she added, "oh, and I’m also really excited for you to meet Steve."

You tilted your head. "Steve Rogers?"

She nodded, eyes lighting up a little, "yeah, he's great. A really good person, but not just in the ‘super soldier hero’ way. He’s thoughtful, kind, and actually listens when you talk. I think you’d really like him."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Wanda… are you trying to set me up with him?"

Her eyes widened slightly before she scoffed, reaching over to playfully shove your arm

You laughed, shaking your head. "Hate to break it to you, but I´m already dating someone."

She smirked, leaning in a little. "Oh, you are?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was nothing but fondness in your voice as you said, "mhmm."

…

Time flies like crazy and the day of the not so little Avenger party is here. The moment you stepped into the massive tower, because, of course, Tony Stark had to have the biggest damn building in New York, you felt a strange wave of nostalgia hit you. The sleek hallways, the subtle hum of high-tech security, the faintly familiar scent of polished floors and expensive equipment… It wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D., not exactly, but it was close enough to stir something in your chest. You barely had time to process it before-

Whoosh!

A gust of wind rushed past you, and suddenly, there was an arm slung around your shoulders. "Well, well, well- so you must be THE (Y/N)," a voice said, dripping with amusement.

You blinked, barely registering the blur of silver hair before Pietro Maximoff grinned down at you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Before you could react, he pulled you into a tight hug, patting your back with way too much enthusiasm. "I’ve heard so much about you! You know, I was starting to think you were just a figment of Wanda’s imagination. But no- you’re real, and I gotta say, you’ve already got bonus points for dealing with her this long."

You snorted, glancing at Wanda, who was watching the interaction with a knowing smirk. "You did warn me," you muttered.

"Told you," she teased, crossing her arms.

Pietro pulled back, grinning as he sized you up. "Alright, first impressions… solid. You seem cool, and I have excellent judgment, so congratulations."

"Oh, thank you for your approval," you said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. "Wow. I come in here, welcome you with open arms, and this is how you treat me? No respect."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Okay, okay. You’re alright too, Maximoff."

He gasped dramatically. "Just alright? Wanda, your girlfriend wounds me."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I told you she’d handle you just fine."

You shook your head with a grin. "Oh, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, too."

Pietro beamed. "Good. Because you’re stuck with me now. Want anything to drink? Wanda?"

You nodded, and in the blink of an eye - whoosh! - Pietro is back, handing you a fruity drink with a cocky little smirk.

"For you," he announced, before handing Wanda an almost too full glass of wine.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"What? You like wine," he shruged, then lifts his own drink, a high-percentage beer that looked strong enough to knock out a normal person.

You took a sip of your drink, then glanced at Pietro. "Wait… How did you even know what I’d like?"

Pietro grinned, leaning on the counter. "Wanda talks a lot about you."

Wanda scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Not that much."

Pietro turned to you, "that much."

You chuckled, watching as Wanda simply sips her wine, pretending not to hear him.

Without missing a beat, she clarified, "Before you ask, no, I didn’t read your mind. I just know you."

"Uh-huh," you hummed, amused.

"And before you wonder why I’m not even tipsy," Pietro added, motioning to his drink, "Wanda and I have a very high alcohol tolerance. I have a ridiculously high tolerance, which means I can’t get drunk. Believe me, I’ve tried."

You nodded with a laugh. "That does sound like something you’d test."

He grinned, raising his glass. "So, on best friends’ cheers?"

You clinked your glass against his. "Best friends’ cheers."

Wanda shaked her head but smiles as she joined in, her glass meeting both of yours. "You two are ridiculous."

"You love us," Pietro teased.

Wanda sighed, but there’s nothing but fondness in her eyes. "Unfortunately, I do."

After some time, as you and Pietro continued talking and joking around, Wanda gently tugged at your hand. "Come on," she murmured with a soft smile. "There’s someone I want you to meet."

Pietro smirked knowingly. "Oh, the introduction. Have fun!"

Wanda rolled her eyes at him before leading you through the lively party, weaving past conversations and laughter until you reached a quieter corner. And then, standing there, just as effortlessly composed as you’d expect - was Steve Rogers himself.

"Steve," Wanda greeted warmly.

Steve turned, his expression immediately softening at the sight of her.

"Hey, Wanda." Then, his gaze shifted to you, and he extended his hand. "You must be (Y/N)."

You shook his hand firmly, surprised by how gentle yet strong his grip was. "That’s me."

He smiled, and it was so genuine, so kind, that you fully understand what Wanda meant when she said he was more than just a good guy. He was The Good Guy.

"I’m really glad to finally meet you," Steve said sincerely. "Wanda talks about you a lot."

You chuckled, throwing a glance at your girlfriend. "So I’ve heard." Wanda simply shrug, an innocent smile on her lips.

Steve nodded approvingly. "It’s good to see her with someone who makes this place feel a little more like home."

Something about the way he said it tugs at your heart. He was not just happy for Wanda, he understood what it’s like to find comfort in people rather than places.

"It’s a work in progress," you sid, smiling. "But I’d like to think I’m doing an okay job."

"You are," Wanda assured you, squeezing your hand gently.

Steve watched the small gesture with warmth in his eyes before he tilts his head. "You know, I heard you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D."

You nodded. "Yeah. Spent some time in training and fieldwork before… well, before everything changed."

He huffed a knowing breath. "Tell me about it."

From there, the conversation easily shifted into talking about training, about the different approaches to working with new recruits. It turned out Steve already knew a bit about you, at least in a professional sense.

"I remember hearing about your training techniques," he admited. "You had a reputation for being tough but fair."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And what do you prefer when it comes to training?"

Steve smiled. "I like to focus on discipline, but I think adaptability is key. The best fighters aren’t just strong, they know how to adjust in the moment."

You nodded in agreement. "Exactly. It’s not just about how fast you hit, it’s about how well you think on your feet."

Steve grinned. "I think I’d like sparring with you sometime."

Wanda, who have been quietly watching the entire exchange, chuckled. "Oh no. You’re going to start geeking out over training, aren’t you?"

You and Steve exchanged a knowing look before you smirked. "No promises." She sighed dramatically but squeezed your hand.

Steve tilted his head slightly. "I also heard that you were the second best on S.H.I.E.L.D.´s dead test."

You blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh… yeah."

Wanda's eyes widen. "Wait, what? You never told me that!"

You shrug, a little sheepish, "eh, nothing special."

Steve chuckled. "Being humble is also a good quality in an agent."

"I wasn’t the first, though," you added with a small smirk.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. "Hard to beat the one and only Widow."

You nodded, "yeah, well… no one really compares to Natasha when it comes to that stuff."

Wanda tilted her head at you, studying your expression as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You squeezed back instinctively, appreciating the silent support.

"So, she’s still into being the best at everything, huh?" you mused, an edge of familiarity in your tone.

Steve nodded. "Always. No break, just work, basically."

You let out a small chuckle, unsurprised. It was just so Natasha. But before your mind could wander too much, Wanda gently tugged at your hand again, bringing you back to the present.

"Well, you are incredibly impressive too," she murmured, nudging you playfully.

Steve grinned at the exchange but didn´t press further. He didn´t know about your history with Natasha and right now, you kind of prefer it that way.

Wanda, with her impossibly fast metabolism, had spent the last ten minutes determinedly drowning her drinks in an attempt to feel something. It was honestly kind of hilarious. She was pouting slightly, swirling the empty glass in her hand like it had personally betrayed her.

You chuckled, shaking your head, "I’ll get you another one."

She grinned, "make it strong, please."

With a teasing eye roll, you made your way to the bar. It was quieter here, dimly lit, the hum of conversations a little more subdued. You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender, when a familiar presence caught your attention from a few seats down.

Natasha.

She wasn’t looking at you at first, but when she finally did, it was like time slowed for a second. Her green eyes flickered with something unreadable… shock, recognition, something deeper beneath the surface.

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, you gave her a polite smile, a quick nod, and looked down, suddenly aware of how your fingers fidgeted against the counter. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or just… old habits creeping in.

But Natasha? She was blindsided.

You were here. In this tower. At this party. And you looked good. The kind of good that made her itch to close the distance, to ask why you were here, how you’d been, what you’d been up to. She wanted to tell you, needed to tell you, that she wasn’t the same person anymore. That she’d changed. That the reckless, emotionally closed-off woman you had once been with was… healing. Better. That she was stable, secure, someone who could finally deserve you.

And God, she wondered, if she was different now, if she was better now…

Would there still be a chance for the two of you?

She was halfway through standing up, ready to cross that distance, when-

A pair of warm hands found your waist.

Wanda.

She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before grinning up at you, "what’s taking so long, detka?"

Then she saw Natasha.

And Natasha - cool, composed, always-in-control Natasha - just froze.

Her mask slipped in an instant. Gone was the untouchable Black Widow. Standing there was just… a heartbroken woman. A woman who had just realized, far too late, that she had lost you. Again.

Not wanting to drag this moment out into something heavier than it needed to be, you gave Natasha a small wave. It was meant to be casual, easy, like you were just two people at the same party, nothing more. Natasha hesitated for half a second before walking toward you, her steps measured. Her expression was carefully blank, but her eyes still held that flicker of something unreadable.

Before she could say anything, Wanda leaned in close to you and murmured, "do you want me to go? Give you two a moment?"

You shook your head without hesitation. "No, you can stay."

Natasha caught that.

She caught the way your voice was steady, how your hand lightly rested against Wanda’s waist like it was second nature. How there wasn’t even a sliver of uncertainty in your decision.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. "Hey, Natasha," you said, keeping your tone polite. "Before you ask, I´m here only as a plus one, I´m not coming back as an agent." There was no malice, no lingering tension - just a quiet honesty. Nat nodded slowly, her lips parting like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, you offered her a small smile. "You look good. I hope you’ve been doing well."

Something in her expression shifted, her fingers twitching at her side, but she only nodded again. "You too."

And just like that, you grabbed the drinks from the bar, handing Wanda hers before turning away with her, letting the moment dissolve behind you. As you and Wanda walked away from the bar, drinks in hand, she let out a small, amused breath. "Well… that went well," she murmured, nudging you lightly with her hip.

You hummed in response, taking a sip of your drink as you led her toward a quieter corner of the room where a few plush seats were set up, "yeah." You finally said, "could’ve been worse."

Wanda sat down beside you, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. "She was staring at you the whole time."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I noticed."

"Should I be jealous?" she teased, tilting her head.

You turned to her with a smirk. "You planning on breaking up with me anytime soon?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of course not."

"Then no," you said simply, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Wanda smiled at that, her shoulders relaxing a bit, "besides I think, that she was just shocked I´m here."

After a brief silence, she leaned into you, resting her head against your shoulder. "So," she started, dragging out the word. "Since we’re here, and since I have an actual S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to ask, was Fury really pain in the ass to work with?"

You huffed a quiet laugh. "Oh, you know. He´s a lot of rules, a lot of paperwork So… kinda."

Wanda laughed. "And what was the hardest part to do?"

"Oh defiently running," you nodded, being totally serious.

"Running?"

"Yeah, we weren’t all enhanced, you know," you joked, nudging her playfully. "Some of us had to train like normal people. Survival of the fittest and all that."

Wanda giggled. "And yet, you almost got the best score?"

"Almost," you corrected. "Big difference."

"Mm, I think you’re just being humble again," she teased, nudging your knee with hers.

You sighed dramatically. "It’s really hard to compete with a super-spy, Wanda."

"True, true," she mused. "We have that said super-spy over there, still staring at us."

You resisted the urge to look over your shoulder, instead bringing your drink to your lips. "Let her stare. She’ll get bored eventually."

Wanda hummed, then smirked. "You know, if you were still at S.H.I.E.L.D. and I was still new to the Avengers, I think they would’ve sent you to check me out."

"Check you out?" You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively.

She groaned, shoving your arm lightly. "You know what I mean! Like, making sure I wasn’t a threat."

You snickered. "I mean, technically, you were a threat back then."

"Exactly," she said proudly. "So? Would you have taken the mission?"

You pretended to think about it. "Hmm. On one hand, I’d be risking my life. On the other hand…" You glanced at her, letting your eyes flicker over her face. "I’d get to meet you."

Wanda’s cheeks darkened, and she shoved you again, but this time, her fingers lingered on your wrist. "Stop being sappy," she muttered.

"Never," you shot back, squeezing her hand. She shook her head, a fond smile on her lips. And as Natasha sat across the room, still watching, still quiet, you didn’t spare her another glance. Because in this moment, it was just you and Wanda.

As you and Wanda continued your conversation, reminiscing about S.H.I.E.L.D. days and sharing quiet laughs, a familiar voice cut through the air behind you.

"Well, well. That is a surprise."

Your head snapped up instantly, and a wide grin spread across your face. "Fury!"

Standing a few feet away, clad in his signature black coat and with the ever-present unimpressed look on his face, was Nick Fury himself. He crossed his arms, giving you a once-over before shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. Why does he always wears the coat? Even at a party?

"Relationships always mess with work," he mused, smirking just a little.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch, "I’m here with Wanda, Fury. I’m not coming back."

"That so?" He raised a brow. "Didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the action."

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. "It’s not for me anymore. I like my work, my mostly cleared schedules."

Fury let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, training people as a trainer. Real relax."

“You been checking up on my life?” Your eyes narrowed slightly.

Fury gave you that signature, unreadable look before answering, "my eye is everywhere."

You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh, "of course it is."

Fury took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to sound a little more serious, "if you ever decide to come back…"

You raised a brow, "you just said relationships mess with work, and now you want me to come back?"

Fury smirked again, tilting his head slightly, "if you change your mind, my number’s still the same."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the crowd like he always did, like a damn shadow.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wanda leaned in close, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk. "Well…"

You turned your head slowly to give her a look, already knowing where she was going with this. "Don’t you dare start too, Wan."

She giggled, taking a sip of her wine, "I didn’t say anything!"

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, shaking your head, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Wanda swirled the remnants of her drink in her glass. You, on the other hand, were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol settle in. A light buzz in your head, a lazy grin pulling at your lips. Not drunk, but definitely tipsy.

"You okay?" Wanda asked, amused as she watched you lean into the back of the couch a little more than before.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting your glass down on the small table beside you. "Just… comfy."

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "Lightweight."

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "I’ll have you know, I used to drink with top agents. You don’t survive that without building some tolerance."

She gave you a skeptical look. "And yet, here you are. Tipsy."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You just have freaky metabolism."

"Fair point," she admitted, taking another sip of her wine. "But still funny to watch."

You rolled your eyes but let the smile linger. Wanda glanced down at her glass, then back up at you, her expression softening slightly. "You know… Natasha was really good to me and Pietro when we got here."

That caught your attention, you blinked, turning to face her more fully. "Yeah?"

Wanda nodded, her gaze distant for a moment. "We didn’t trust anyone at first. And I mean anyone." She sighed. "We were… lost. Everything we had believed in, everything we fought for… it was all gone. And suddenly, we were supposed to trust these people we used to call enemies?" She let out a quiet laugh. "It was terrifying."

You stayed quiet, letting her continue.

"But Natasha… she was patient. She didn’t push, didn’t try to force us to talk. She just… made sure we were okay. Checked in. Gave us space, but always reminded us she was there." Wanda smiled faintly. "She was one of the first people who made me feel like I belonged here."

You tilted your head slightly, watching her as her words sank in. You had known Natasha in a very different light. You knew her sharp edges, her relentless drive, her constant need to be the best. But the way Wanda spoke about her… it was softer. Warmer.

Had she really changed that much?

Maybe more than a bit.

Wanda nudged you lightly, "you’re thinking really hard about something."

You blinked, shaking off the thoughts. "Just… surprised, I guess."

She studied you for a moment, then tilted her head with a knowing look. "You thought she’d always stay the same, didn’t you?"

You huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Natasha never really needed to change. She was always so sure of herself, always knew exactly what she was doing. Yet… not really. It’s weird to think of her as…" You trailed off, searching for the right words.

"As someone who cares?" Wanda finished for you, a teasing glint in her eye.

You snorted. "She always cared. She was just really bad at showing it."

Wanda hummed in agreement. "Well, maybe she figured it out."

You let that thought settle in, absentmindedly tapping your fingers against your thigh, "I´m glad she was and still is there for you, I don´t want to make it weird between you two."

"(Y/N), we all are adults." Wanda poked your side.

You hummed, "true, but we all are surrounded by not so common work."

It´s not so shocking, that she changed and truly worked on herself. Natasha Romanoff wasn’t the same woman you once knew. It is totally normal, but Wanda´s words still suprised you.

As Wanda made her way through the crowd, saying goodnight to everyone, you took the opportunity to slip away toward the bar, deciding that a glass of water might help ease the tipsiness creeping up on you. The party was still lively, but the energy had settled, with some guests already leaving and others dissapearing into quiet conversations.

You leaned against the counter, running a hand through your hair as you waited for your drink. The cold water felt refreshing against your palm, and you took a slow sip, letting yourself breathe for a moment.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you noticed someone approaching. You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was.

Natasha stood just a few steps away, hands casually tucked into the pockets of her black pants, but there was something careful about the way she carried herself, like she wasn’t sure if she should be standing there at all. "You’re drinking water at a party?"

"Trying to avoid a headache tomorrow," you replied, swirling the ice in your glass before finally glancing at Natasha.

She had one elbow resting on the bar, body angled toward you, her expression unreadable but undeniably curious. "That’s surprisingly responsible of you."

You huffed a small laugh, "I can be responsible."

Natasha smirked slightly, eyes flicking over you like she was trying to piece something together. "You always did like sneaking away from crowds."

You shrugged. "Old habits."

A silence settled between you for a few moments, not entirely awkward, but definitely not the effortless kind you used to have. It was Natasha who broke it first.

"I heard you are a personal trainer now," she said, tilting her head slightly.

You gave her a look, "first Fury and now you," you chuckled, "How do you know?"

She smiled just a little, "I have my ways."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it. "Yeah, I train. Mostly physical conditioning, self defence, a little tactics. Keeps me busy."

"And keeps you out of the field."

You exhaled slowly, nodding, "yeah. That part of my life is over."

Natasha studied you for a moment before nodding, almost to herself. "You seem… different."

That made you pause, "different how?"

She tilted her head, considering. "More at peace."

You weren’t sure what to say to that. Instead, you just smiled slightly. "Guess I’ve figured some things out."

Natasha held your gaze for a beat longer, and you could tell she wanted to say something else. But instead, she finally asked, "You and Wanda…?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"For how long?"

"Some time now."

Natasha pressed her lips together, nodding slowly. "I see." She glanced away for a second before taking a breath. "I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry."

That made you pause.

"For what I did all those years ago," she continued, shifting slightly on her feet. "For how I hurt you. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I need you to know that I’m different now. I’ve worked on myself. I’m better." You studied her for a moment, then offered her a small, sincere smile.

"Thank you for the apology, Nat. It´s okay." You looked away for a second, sipping on your water. "By the way… I’m happy for you, Nat. Really. You deserve to feel stable and have a family like the Avengers. You´re really glowing here."

Her eyes softened, as if your words lifted something heavy off her shoulders. "Thanks," she said quietly.

You nodded, taking another sip of water. There was nothing left to be said, at least not tonight. But for the first time in a long time, things didn’t feel so heavy between you two, like the last time you saw her.

As soon as Wanda said all her goodbyes and then appeared beside you, her hand instinctively found yours, her fingers warm and familiar as they laced with yours. Natasha’s eyes flickered between the two of you before offering a small nod.

"We are heading for tonight, so see you tomorrow, Nat." Wanda said softly, her tone polite but firm.

You nodded as well. "Goodnight."

Natasha held your gaze for a second longer, something unreadable flashing in her expression before she gave a small smile. "Goodnight."

And with that, you and Wanda turned to leave, stepping out of the party and into the quiet night.

The walk back to your place was peaceful, the air crisp, the distant hum of the city filling the silence between you. By the time you stepped inside, exhaustion was starting to settle in, but Wanda’s teasing tone pulled you right back.

"I see you made sure to drink some water," she mused, nudging your side as she slipped off her coat.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smirk. "Didn’t feel like waking up miserable."

"Smart," Wanda hummed, already pulling you towards the bed.

It didn’t take long before the two of you were tangled up together, bodies fitting perfectly under the covers. Wanda’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, her breath warm against your neck.

"Hoped you enjoyed tonight," she murmured sleepily.

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into her hold. "Yeah… I had fun. It was nice to come back."

Wanda smiled against your skin, her grip around you tightening just a little. She didn’t say anything else, but you knew what she was thinking.

You’d be calling Fury soon.

Because no matter how much you insisted that part of your life was over, you loved training people too much to stay away forever. It was still part of you, something that will stay with you till the day you´ll die.

The days following Tony’s party felt like a blur of normalcy, something rare and precious when you were dating an Avenger. Wanda’s schedule was unpredictable at best, but she always made sure to carve out time for the two of you, such as lazy mornings tangled in blankets, quiet dinners, and stolen moments between her missions.

And when you weren’t spending time with her, you were at the gym, running your own classes, guiding people through drills, and finding satisfaction in watching them improve.

It was a good balance.

Most of the time.

It became a habit - Wanda coming home and venting about work, about the team, about whatever new chaos had unfolded that day.

And lately, her frustrations had taken a familiar pattern.

"I swear, (Y/N), I watched a group of recruits today completely botch a simple counter maneuver. Like, a basic one. It was painful." Wanda groaned, draping herself dramatically over the couch while you stood in the kitchen, making some tea.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you poured the hot water into two mugs. "What was the mistake?"

"They left their center completely open. No weight shift, no counterbalance, just begging to be thrown to the ground."

You nearly choked on a laugh, "oh my god, that’s such a stupid mistake."

"Right?" Wanda sighed. "And Steve’s been trying to work on it, but it’s not really his style. They need someone who actually knows how to drill this stuff into their heads, not just super soldier who fought in war."

You didn’t catch it at first, the way she said it, casual but deliberate, planting the idea like a seed in your mind.

It wasn’t just a complaint. It was a suggestion.

But Wanda moved on quickly, sipping her tea as she changed the subject, and you didn’t think much of it.

Until it happened again. And again.

"Nat says the newer agents struggle with disarming techniques," Wanda mentioned over breakfast one morning, "it slows down their reaction time in the field."

You scoffed as you buttered your toast. "That’s basic survival. Why aren’t they drilling it more?"

"Exactly," Wanda said with a knowing look, but she didn’t push. She never did.

She just kept mentioning things. Little things. How S.H.I.E.L.D.´s training program was lacking. How the recruits weren’t getting the guidance they needed. How maybe, just maybe, someone with your experience could help. You weren’t sure when you started seriously considering it.

It was just… there. A thought in the back of your mind, lingering longer each time Wanda brought it up.

taglist: @starrycherie, @esposadejoyhuerta, @redroomgraduate

[screaminglygay]

No way back

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

summary: you and natasha joined S.H.I.E.L.D. at the same time, but you're the only one who feels truly at home. while you find your footing, natasha struggles with the unfamiliarity of it all - new people, new rules, and the overwhelming sense that she doesn’t quite belong, but you try your best to make her feel like she´s at home

warnings: slow burn, teasing, kissing, fighting, swearing, light angst, overthinking, Natasha feeling out of place, mentions of a brother's passing, emotional vulnerability

word count: 9.6k

an: thank you for the request!! i had fun writing it, once again sorry it took me forever, the next two parts will be even more angsty!!

part one I part two I part three

The air in the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility was thick with unspoken words. Conversations lowered to hushed tones whenever she walked past. The few who didn’t bother whispering let their disapproval show in glances, in the way their shoulders stiffened when she entered a room.

Natasha Romanoff was used to isolation. But this? This was different. It wasn’t just suspicion, it was hatred.

The KGB had collapsed, and the Red Room along with it. She was one of the lucky few who got a second chance, but the agents here didn’t see it that way. To them, she wasn’t just a recruit, she was an enemy, a traitor, a remnant of something they wanted erased. They didn’t see a woman trying to rebuild herself, only the ghost of something they despised.

And yet, there was you.

Bright-eyed and eager, just another fresh recruit with no bloodstained history weighing you down. You weren’t a Widow. You weren’t special. But you were kind. And unlike everyone else, you didn’t look at her like she was something vile.

Natasha noticed it from the start, the way your gaze didn’t linger with wariness, the way your voice didn’t lower when she was near. And when she entered the training room that afternoon, she noticed you again.

The training mats were filled with recruits testing their combat skills. You were off to the side, holding pads for another agent, excitement lighting up your features as you explained something with your hands moving animatedly.

Natasha didn’t care for small talk, but something about the way you smiled… so open, so easy, made her pause.

Moments later, she was called up for testing. Evaluating abilities, strengths, weaknesses. Seeing where she fit. She knew how they expected her to perform, like a ruthless machine. So she did. She made quick work of her opponents, every strike precise, efficient. No wasted movement. No hesitation. When she finally stepped off the mat, there was silence. Not admiration, not respect, just discomfort. A reminder that she wasn’t one of them.

And then you spoke.

"That was insane." Your voice cut through the tension, bright and impressed, not a hint of unease. "How the hell did you move like that?"

Natasha blinked. People didn’t usually direct questions at her unless they had to.

You took her silence as an invitation to continue, unfazed. "I mean, I know it’s years of training and all, but-" you gestured vaguely, still catching your breath from your own sparring match. "That was like some ninja stuff ."

She just stared, unsure what to do with the unexpected enthusiasm directed her way. You were still looking at her, waiting, expecting an answer. No hostility, no apprehension.

She exhaled sharply. "Practice."

You grinned. "Yeah? Guess I should be practicing a hell of a lot more, then." You chuckle. You are not a bad at this, no. You are fast and quick, but these moves, that Natasha made… they were something else.

Natasha almost smirked, but before she could respond, your instructor called for a break. The recruits scattered, finding their usual groups.

She didn’t have one. She was used to sitting alone. It didn’t bother her.

But then-

"Hey, uh, you good?" Your voice again. You were standing in front of her now, holding two water bottles, offering one out. "You kinda just wrecked everyone, figured you might need this."

She eyed the bottle warily before taking it. "Thanks."

You sat down beside her without invitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Natasha waited for the hesitation, the awkward excuse to leave, but it didn’t come.

After many days of training, it became more harsher and more exhausting, you knew it was S.H.I.E.L.D. testing you, trying to sort just the best one, but it was a lot, but not for her, at least it didn´t look like it.

Natasha sat in the corner of the training room, carefully adjusting the bandages wrapped around her hand. It wasn’t a bad injury, just a scrape from earlier drills, but the fabric had stuck to the wound. She barely reacted to the discomfort, her expression cold as ever.

You noticed, though. "Hey, looks like that’s stuck. You need help?" you asked, crouching beside her.

Natasha didn’t even look up. "No."

You grinned, undeterred. "I wasn’t really asking." Before she could pull away, you were already untying the bandages with quick, precise fingers. The fabric peeled away from her skin, and Natasha finally looked at you, her sharp green eyes studying you, not with anger, but with something closer to surprise. She didn’t say anything. Just watched.

"There," you said, satisfied. "That’s better, right?"

Natasha flexed her fingers slightly, testing. "I suppose."

You took that as a win.

From that moment, you made it your mission to include Natasha, whether she wanted it or not. It wasn’t hard, everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. liked you. You were warm, helpful, and easy to talk to. Even the most hardened agents softened in your presence. But when it came to Natasha, people kept their distance, speaking in hushed tones when she passed by, leaving her to sit alone during briefings.

You weren’t having it.

Every conversation, every briefing, every group training, if you were there, you made sure Natasha was a part of it. When you laughed at a joke, you turned to see if she was listening. When you partnered up for drills, you dragged her into the mix. If she tried to stay in the background, you pulled her forward. At first, people didn’t know what to do with it. Some just stared. Some whispered. But you? You smiled at Natasha like she was just another teammate, not the ex-KGB assassin everyone was afraid of. And eventually, even if she didn’t say it, you could tell, she appraciated it.

She appraciate you.

You weren’t exactly sure when things started to shift. Maybe it was during that one mission, the first time you and Natasha had to rely on each other for real. A simple recon op that went sideways, forcing you and her to fight back-to-back. It was the first time she saw you as more than just the kind recruit who wouldn’t leave her alone. The first time she saw that you could handle yourself.

By the time you both got back to base, bruised but victorious, something had changed. It wasn’t big, not yet. Just small moments.

The way Natasha sat closer during briefings, the way her gaze lingered when you spoke. Like she was watching, waiting, trying to figure you out.

So you decided to push things a little further, trying to make her feel more… comfortable and safe. Make her feel more like she belongs here.

"Come with me," you said one evening, right after dinner.

Natasha raised a brow. "Where?"

"The shooting range." You said simply.

She studied you for a long moment. "At this hour? There won’t be anyone else."

"Nope," you grinned. "Just us. I wanted to see the real things you can do with a gun. And I want you to teach me."

Natasha folded her arms, the corner of her lips twitching. "You don’t think it’s- "

"Scary?" you interrupted. "No. Badass? Yup."

She blinked, surprised, before shaking her head with something dangerously close to amusement. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you’re avoiding the question." You smiled at her, knowing she will say yes, but won´t go down without looking like a scary person.

Which is funny, because not even after bunch of stories you heard, not a single time did you think she was scary. Interesting and strong, definetly, but never scary.

Natasha sighed, but there was no real resistance. She stood up, rolling her shoulders. "Fine. But don’t embarrass yourself."

You grinned. "No promises."

The range was quiet at night, the fluorescent lights casting a cool glow over the empty stalls. You handed Natasha a pistol, watching as she inspected it with the kind of precision that could only come from years of training.

"So, what do you wanna learn?" she asked, slipping into that calm, focused state that made her so lethal in the field.

You thought about it for a second. "Everything."

Natasha let out a short laugh, a real one. "That’s ambitious."

"You´re good with guns, so…"

Her expression faltered, just for a second. She wasn’t used to compliments. Not the genuine kind. But she recovered quickly, loading the gun and placing it in your hands.

"Alright then," she murmured, stepping behind you. "Let’s start with your grip."

Her hands covered yours, adjusting your fingers, pressing against your back to fix your stance. Her touch was careful but firm, her voice smooth as she explained each movement. You weren’t sure if it was the warmth of her body so close or the sheer focus in her tone, but your pulse quickened.

And when you fired the first shot, dead center on the target, you swore you heard a quiet hum of approval.

"Not bad," Natasha admitted.

You smirked. "Told you I wouldn’t embarrass myself. But why is the grip so important? It´s just the shot, no?"

She rolled her eyes, but this time, she didn’t pull away so fast. "Is your gun loaded?"

"No. I had only one bullet in-" before you could finish that sentence, Natasha not so harshly bumped into your wrist and the gun you were holding fell easily down. "Oh… I see now." You turned your head so you can look at her, you smiled a bit, even though you can feel your heart in your throat.

After that bonding the smiles started. They weren’t much at first - hesitant, uncertain - but they were there. Agents who once ignored her were now nodding in acknowledgment. Some even started greeting her by name. It wasn’t lost on Natasha that this shift had everything to do with you.

You had always been easy to like, weaving yourself effortlessly into the cracks of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s cold walls. You helped agents with their reports, sparred with them without making it a competition, and always - always - made sure Natasha was included.

At first, people didn’t know how to react. They weren’t sure if you were just being polite or if you really meant it. But then, in the middle of a late-night training session, you made sure to give Natasha the credit, she didn´t think was even there.

"Damn, how did you pull that off?" one of the agents asked after you had effortlessly flipped them onto the mat.

You grinned, wiping sweat from your forehead. "Natasha taught me." Silence. A few skeptical glances were exchanged. "…Romanoff?" someone finally muttered.

"Yeah," you said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

For a moment, no one knew what to say. But then, one of the agents turned to Natasha, hesitant but genuinely curious. "Wait… you actualy train others?"

Natasha, who had been leaning against the wall watching the interaction unfold, tilted her head slightly. "When I feel like it."

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t listen to her. She does and she’s actually great at it."

A few agents exchanged glances before someone hesitantly asked, "Can you show us?"

Natasha hesitated. It wasn’t fear. It was just… unfamiliar. People looking at her with interest instead of distrust.

You gave her a little nudge. "C’mon, show off a little." And once again you chuckle, pushing Natasha´s buttons a bit more. Making her open more and show others, that she´s not so cold and scary looking lady.

A beat passed. Then, Natasha sighed and stepped forward. "Fine."

That was the moment everything truly changed. The next few weeks, more agents started joining in. What started as casual observations turned into genuine respect. They saw how skilled she was, how efficient her movements were.

"Oh my god, who taught you that?" someone asked you after another sparring session.

"Natasha did," you answered with a smirk.

And instead of the usual shock or discomfort, the response was different this time. "Damn," one agent muttered. "She’s really good."

"She really is," another admitted.

It was subtle, but Natasha noticed it. The way people started sitting next to her in meetings. The way conversations didn’t immediately die when she entered a room. The way people started listening. For the first time since joining S.H.I.E.L.D., she didn’t feel like an outsider, at least not that much, she felt like this could really be a new beggining for her.

As the days comes by Natasha finally catch you after a training, finally being able to talk to you properly. The gym was empty now, except for the two of you. Sweat clung to your skin, muscles sore from sparring, but neither of you seemed in a hurry to leave today. Natasha had been improving fast, not just physically, but in how she carried herself around the others. She was more comfortable now, less guarded. It was something you had noticed gradually, and honestly, you were proud of her.

That’s why it caught you off guard when she suddenly said, "Thanks."

You blinked. "For what?"

Natasha exhaled, running a hand through her damp hair before leaning against the wall. "For making me look friendly. Helping me fit in."

You shook your head with a small smile. "Zero idea what you’re talking about."

She shot you a dry look. "Oh, shut up."

You chuckled. "That was all you, Nat. They just needed a little push. So did you."

Natasha didn’t argue with that. She let the words settle between you before glancing down at her hands, quiet for a long moment. Then, almost hesitantly, she said, "I don’t blame them, you know."

You frowned at her, letting her speak.

"The others. For being wary of me." She sighed. "I was trained in the Red Room. Worked for the KGB. I know what people like me have done." She hesitated, then her voice dropped slightly. "I know what I’ve done, I know who I am..."

She didn’t say it, but you heard the word she left unsaid.

Monster.

Your chest ached for her.

"We all make mistakes," you said softly. "But you’re here for a reason, aren’t you? You want to change. To do something good. What happened… happened. You can’t change the past, but you can choose who you want to be."

Natasha let out a breath, something shifting in her expression. "You ate a wisdom, hm?" she muttered.

You grinned, "that’s my daily bread."

A small chuckle escaped her lips, quiet but real. It was rare to hear her laugh, but when she did, it was worth it.

After that, things between you and Natasha just… clicked. Wherever she was, you weren’t far behind. And wherever you were, she was right there with you. People started joking about it. "If we need to find Romanoff, just look for (Y/N)."

"I swear, they come as a set," another agent laughed at that.

You started doing things together outside of training. Natasha would drag you to the shooting range at odd hours, testing out different weapons while you tried (and often failed) to match her skill. In return, you convinced her to join you in normal, non-mission-related activities - grabbing coffee, watching movies, playing pool in the rec room.

And then there were the missions. You worked better together than anyone expected. It was seamless, almost instinctive. The way you covered each other’s backs, how one glance was enough to understand what the other was thinking. You weren’t just teammates. You were a duo.

Time goes by, and it was the one-year celebration of you being in S.H.I.E.L.D. The same goes for Natasha. The party was in full swing, the usually serious S.H.I.E.L.D agents actually let loose, drinks in hand, music a little too loud for a facility, and even the higher-ups seem to have abandoned their usual stiff posture. For once, the atmosphere was light, warm. You had a good time, chatting with everyone, laughing at dumb jokes, even letting yourself get a little tipsy.

But even you had limits, your social battery is wearing thin, and the heat of the crowded room got to you. So, without much thought, you slipped out of the main hall and made your way up the stairs, pushing open the door to the training center’s rooftop. The night air was cool against your skin, refreshing after the stuffy warmth of the party. The city lights stretched out in the distance, flickering like a thousand little stars, and you sighed, leaning against the railing.

Peace. At least for a moment.

Because not long after, the door creaked open again. You didn´t have to turn around to know who it was. Natasha stepped forward, her footsteps light, almost silent. She stopped beside you, resting her arms on the railing. You glanced at her, she looked the same as always, calm, composed.

"You’re not drunk," you observed.

She huffed out something like a chuckle. "Of course not."

"Why? Afraid of letting loose?" you teased, nudging her with your elbow.

She didn´t respond immediately, just watched the city below. Then, with a small shrug, she said, "I grew up in Russia. Tolerance to alcohol is kind of in my blood."

You raised an eyebrow. "Then why you’re not even slightly tipsy?"

"Would take a hell of a lot more than what they’re serving in there," she said, nodding towards the party. "It’s a little pathetic, honestly."

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"Maybe I should teach you... you look like you would need it," she teased.

"Excuse you, I have some tolerance." You glanced at her, "besides I did have my own growing up experience with drinking."

Natasha looked at you, silent, waiting.

"My brother taught me how to drink," you chuckled, "at least tried to." You exhaled, looking down at your hands. “His names is Thomas.” A pause. “Was.”

She didn´t say anything, but she turned fully toward you, giving you her full attention.

"He was in the Navy," you continued. "One of the best. Smart, strong… better than me in everything, really. But he was also the kind of guy who couldn’t sit back if someone needed help." You took a breath. "There was an accident. A mission gone wrong. He saved his teammate… but he didn’t make it."

You swallowed, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. Even after all this time, it didn´t go away. It´s the alcohol that made your shiny personality, to get a little cloudy.

Natasha was still quiet, but she watched you with something soft in her expression. Understanding.

"That’s why I trained," you said finally. "Why I kept pushing myself. My biggest dream was to work for the CIA, actually." You chuckled, shaking your head. "And I almost made it. Passed all the tests, was about to get in, until a guy with one eye came in and basically stole me."

Natasha’s lips quirked. "Fury?"

You nodded, "Fury."

There was a comfortable silence between you after that. Just the sound of the wind, the faint music from the party below, and the distant hum of the city.

Then, quietly, Natasha said, "I’m sorry about your brother."

You glanced at her, giving her a small smile. "Yeah. Me too."

Another beat of silence. Then, in a rare, quiet admission, she added, "He sounds like a nice guy."

You chuckled, tilting your head. "He would’ve liked you."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, "even though I’m Russian?"

You nudged her shoulder. "Even though you’re Russian." It was very easy to talk to you, to joke with you and to let her guards down, she liked this... she liked spending time with you.

You let out a soft chuckle, leaning your elbows on the railing as you gaze out over the cityscape. The cool night air does little to sober you up, but you didn´t mind the warmth in your cheeks. It was a nice buzz, one that made you loosen up, talk more freely.

"He actually was really into women who could take care of themselves," you said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between you and Natasha. "His captain was a woman. I remember how head over heels he was for her… it was crazy. He was thirteen again, having a crush like a little boy."

You laughed at the memory, shaking your head. "I swear, he would talk about her like she walked on water. All serious and professional when she was around, but then the second she left? He’d go on and on about how badass she was."

Natasha chuckled at your rambling, a rare amusement flickering in her expression. You were slightly tipsy, your words a little looser than usual, but she didn´t mind. There was something… nice about it. About you just talking, sharing pieces of your life like they were meant to be told.

She watched as you grin to yourself, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the railing. There was a soft flush to your cheeks, not just from the alcohol, but from the warmth of the memory. It made her hesitate, just for a moment, before she spoke.

"I get it," Natasha finally said, exhaling softly. "Having someone you admire like that."

You glanced at her, intrigued. "Yeah?" And Natasha just hummed.

After few minutes of just silence once again, her gaze fell back on the city. “I had a sister.” A pause. "Have a sister."

Your head tilted slightly, your attention sharpening. "You do?"

Natasha nodded again. "Yelena. She’s younger than me. Stubborn as hell, always had something to prove." A small, almost fond smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "We grew up together… well, as much as we could. The Red Room didn’t exactly allow for normal childhoods."

You didn´t push, just let her talk, sensing the weight of her words.

"I haven’t seen her in years," Natasha continued, fingers flexing slightly against the railing. "Not since I left." There’s a flicker of something in her expression - guilt, longing. "I don’t even know where she is. If she’s okay. But I still think about her."

You were quiet for a moment, letting her words settle between you. Then, gently, you asked, "What was she like? Back then?"

Natasha exhaled a short laugh. "A menace."

You grined at that. "Sounds about right for a younger sibling."

"She always had this way of getting under my skin," Natasha admited, shaking her head slightly. "Always trying to prove she could be better, faster, stronger. But she was also… kind. Not in the traditional way, but in the way that mattered. She cared… deeply. Even when she tried to hide it."

You watched Natasha’s expression shift, soft in a way you don’t see often. It was different from her usual guarded demeanor, there was something raw in it. Something real.

"I hope she’s okay," Natasha murmured.

You reached out, hesitating for only a second before gently placing your hand on hers. "If she’s anything like you, I’d bet she is."

Natasha looked at you then, her green eyes flickering at your hand on hers, then back at you. But after a moment, she just huffed out a quiet breath, shaking her head. "You’re really bad at this whole tough S.H.I.E.L.D. agent thing, you know?" she said.

You grined, "yeah, well. Someone’s gotta balance you out."

She didn´t argue. Instead, she just let out another soft chuckle, turning her gaze back toward the city. And for a while, the two of you just stayed like that. Side by side, watching the world move below, the weight of past and present settling comfortably between you.

One second, you were just standing there, glancing at Natasha, enjoying her presence - the next, her lips were on yours. Soft. Warm.

A little hesitant at first, like she wasn’t sure she should be doing this, but then firmer, more certain.

Your breath hitched, heart slamming against your ribs as your brain caught up with what was happening. Natasha Romanoff - Natasha - was kissing you.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, she pulled away, eyes wide, looking more startled than you felt. "Oh, shit," she breathed. "I- I didn’t mean to-"

You blinked at her, still processing, still feeling the ghost of her lips on yours. Butteflies flying everywhere.

"I mean, I did, but I- I don’t know why I-" She took a half-step back, running a hand over her face. "That was- I wasn’t thinking, I just-"

She was spiraling. Natasha Romanoff was spiraling. And honestly? It was kind of adorable.

You grinned, heart still racing, but in the best way. "Nat."

"I shouldn’t have-"

"Natasha."

She shut up, blinking at you.

"Don’t apologize," you said softly, still feeling the warmth of her lips lingering on yours. "That was nice."

She blinked again. "Nice?"

"Very nice." You nodded and as Natasha looked at you fully so she could notice the blush on your cheeks. Knowing very well it wasn´t from the alcohol.

Her brows furrowed, like her brain was still struggling to process the fact that you weren’t mad, weren’t pulling away. "But I just- I didn’t even ask, I just-"

"Yeah, I noticed," you teased, a giddy little laugh bubbling up. "Not that I’m complaining."

Natasha groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is not how I wanted to do this."

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. "Oh? So you wanted to kiss me?"

Her lips parted, then closed, then parted again. "I- That’s not- I mean-"

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. A bright, breathless, happy sound.

"I knew it," you teased, poking her arm.

Natasha scowled, but the way her ears were turning pink betrayed her, "you did?"

"Nope, but I wanted you to do it so badly, so… manifestation." You smiled widely at her.

"You’re insufferable," she muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

"And you just kissed me," you pointed out, grinning.

She groaned again, looking up at the sky like it might save her. You just smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a small squeeze.

"Hey," you said softly. She looked at you, and there was still a little hesitation there, a little uncertainty.

You squeezed her hand again. "This is nice," you repeated, gentler this time. "You are nice. To me. And that’s all that matters."

Natasha stared at you for a long moment, like she was still trying to find a way out of this. But then, finally, finally, she let out a breath. "You’re really something else," she murmured, shaking her head.

You grinned. "Took you long enough to figure that out."

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t let go of your hand.

…

From the moment that kiss happened on the rooftop, something between you and Natasha changed.

Not in a way that was overwhelming or scary - no, it was easy, like flipping a switch that was waiting to be turned on. You still trained together, ate lunch at the same table, sat beside each other in meetings, but now there was an added something to it all. A kind of warmth, a softness.

Like how Natasha would nudge your arm when she passed by, or how she’d steal your drink without asking, giving you a smirk when you huffed at her. Or how she’d lean into your side when you sat next to each other, casually draping her arm over the back of your chair, fingers sometimes brushing your shoulder absentmindedly.

Little things. Easy things.

Dating Natasha Romanoff was surprisingly not some impossible, larger-than-life thing. It was waking up and getting coffee together before morning drills, where she’d always roll her eyes but still make sure you had your favorite one.

It was stealing quick, hidden moments in hallways when no one was looking, Natasha rolling her eyes at how obvious you were, only to pull you in for a kiss when she thought no one was around. It was training together, still pushing each other, but now with teasing smirks and stolen kisses. It was, you had to admit, kind of perfect.

Natasha was perfect. And everyone was noticing.

Once word got out, because of course it got out, that you, arguably the kindest person in S.H.I.E.L.D., chose Natasha, something shifted in how people treated her.

Not in a bad way, though.

Before, people had been friendly enough, mostly because you kept bringing Natasha into group activities and conversations, but there had always been a kind of caution. A distance. They still saw her as Black Widow, the woman who had red in her ledger, who had a history drenched in violence.

But now?

Now, people looked at her differently.

If you, the person who always went out of their way to help others, who saw the best in everyone, liked Natasha, then maybe she wasn’t someone to be feared. Maybe she deserved a second chance. And Natasha? Oh, she noticed.

People started smiling at her more in the hallways.

They started asking for her help with things - small tasks, not only minor training exercises, more little things they never would have approached her for before.

And the flirting?

The flirting was insane.

It was like the moment people saw Natasha through your eyes, they realized she wasn’t just a deadly assassin… she was hot.

You’d never seen her ego this big before. Training days became something else entirely.

"Alright, everyone, partner up." Maria Hill, Fury´s right hand yelled, so everyone can hear her.

Immediately, half the room turned to Natasha. You watched as agents practically scrambled to be the first to get to her, some subtly and not so subtly bumping into each other in their rush. Natasha smirked.

"Oh," she mused, glancing at you from across the room. "Guess I’m popular now."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "You’re impossible." Not thinking about it as a big deal.

She gave you a smug little smile, tilting her head. "Jealous?" You scoffed, trying not to let her entirely correct assumption show on your face.

She chuckled, then turns to some random rookie, “sorry, but I already have a partner," she said simply, jerking her head toward you.

The rookie looked both disappointed and terrified.

You, however, were fighting back a grin. She is yours and you are hers.

Natasha made her way over, stopping just in front of you. "You don’t mind, do you?"

You huffed, "like you’d let me say no."

She smirked, leaning in just enough for her voice to drop, “exactly."

You swallowed, because god, she knew what she was doing.

"Alright, alright," Maria called, clapping her hands. "Let’s get started."

You were going to kill her.

Or kiss her.

Possibly both.

And Natasha? She knew exactly what she was doing.

After training wrapped up, you and Natasha made your way to the locker room. The adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins, your body buzzing with the remnants of sparring.

Or maybe it was just her. Who knows?

Natasha was grinning, that signature, smug little smirk plastered on her lips as she leaned against the lockers with her arms crossed. "See how much people wanted to spar with me today?" she teased, tilting her head as she looked at you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. It was a little desperate if you ask me."

Natasha gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Desperate? They chose me.”

You huffed, turning away to open your locker. "Yeah, well, I think I’m gonna have to start charging them if they want to breathe the same air as my girlfriend." There was a tiny hint of jealousy and of course she noticed it.

Natasha let out a delighted laugh. "Oh? So I’m yours now?"

You turned to her, lifting a brow. "You were always mine."

That shut her up, momentarily.

Then, she grinned, stepping closer. "Oh, is someone turning green?"

You turned away quickly, but Natasha was faster. Before you could even think of hiding, she had you pinned against the lockers, her hands firm on either side of your head as she leaned in.

"I think you are," she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke.

"I am not," you mumbled, though your resolve was very quickly dissolving.

Natasha chuckled. "Mhm." And then she kissed you. It was soft at first, just a slow, teasing press of her lips against yours. Then, it grew deeper, her hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. You sighed against her mouth, your hands moving to cup her face, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

She was being so affectionate. Touching you like she needed to, kissing you like she wanted to pour everything she felt into you. When she pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, you found yourself whispering, "We’re together… together."

She smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. "We are…" Another kiss to your cheek, "…together." Another to your jaw, "…which is why you should move in with me."

You blinked, your mind short-circuiting. "Wait. What?"

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on your waist. "Move in with me."

You stared at her.

She tilted her head. "What?"

You blinked again. "You just said- wait. Are you serious?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Of course I’m serious. We basically spend all our time together anyway."

You hesitated, your heart pounding. "But we-"

"You want to." She grinned, leaning in again, her lips brushing over yours. "I know you do."

You huffed, narrowing your eyes at her. "…I hate how well you know me."

She smirked, "so?"

You sighed, dramatically, "fine."

"Fine? Just fine?" She can´t help, but chuckle again.

You chuckled as well, "fine, I’ll move in."

Natasha grinned, "good," and then she kissed you again.

The only thing left to do was tell Fury. So you did the next day, since the word travels fast in this facility. You weren’t nervous, per se, but still… this was Fury. You stood in front of his desk, back straight, hands clasped behind you. Natasha was waiting outside, mostly because she didn’t want to hear Fury’s inevitable sarcasm firsthand.

Fury looked at you over the rim of his coffee cup, unimpressed. "You want to what?"

"Move in with agent Romanoff, sir."

He blinked, setting his cup down, "you’re already living in headquarters."

"Yes, sir."

"And now you want to live together?"

"…Yes, sir."

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. "I’m happy for you." He said that with total blank expression, so it was hard to tell if he meant it or not.

You blinked, "wait, really?"

"But," Fury continued, leveling you with a look, "don’t you dare let it affect your work."

You swallowed, “it won’t, sir."

"You and Romanoff are my top agents," he said firmly. "I don’t have time for relationship drama messing with my missions. So don’t you dare."

You straightened, "I understand. Don’t worry, sir."

Fury eyed you for a moment before sighing. "Good. Now get out of my office."

You tried not to smile as you turned on your heel and walked out.

Natasha was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed. "Well?"

You grinned. "He said yes."

"Told you he would" Natasha smirked.

You rolled your eyes, nudging her. "Come on, roomie."

She chuckled, draping an arm over your shoulders as you walked away together. Words can´t describe how happy you felt, in this moment… there is nothing more you wish for, maybe more free time, but you´re not gonna push Fury´s buttons. Not yet at least

Each morning from that moment the first thing you registered was warmth. The second was the scent of Natasha, something sweet and faintly floral, mixed with the crispness of freshly washed sheets. The third was movement. Something was shifting beside you, and before you could even react, a hand brushed over your hair, fingers lightly threading through it.

"Mhm," you grumbled, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

A chuckle, "good morning, sweetheart."

You groaned in response, curling further into the blankets.

"Come on, wake up." Natasha’s voice was far too cheerful for this time of day.

You pried one eye open, glaring at her, or at least, attempting to. It probably looked more like a squint. "It’s six in the morning."

"It is."

"Six, Natasha." Ugh. How you hated mornings, early mornings to be exact.

"I heard you the first time."

You groaned again, flopping onto your back and rubbing your face. "This is cruel. I thought you liked me."

Natasha laughed, stretching her arms above her head, the muscles in her back flexing beneath the soft fabric of her tank top. "I do like you."

You pouted up at her. "Then why are you waking me up at an ungodly hour?"

She grinned, leaning on her elbow beside you. "Because you’re adorable when you’re grumpy."

You narrowed your eyes at her, "I hate you." And you mumble something else.

"No, you don’t," she poked your cheek. "But everyone should see this. Our lovely, happy, kind little sunshine is currently wishing me all the worst just because I woke her up."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "That is not true," maybe it was… a little.

"Oh?" Natasha teased, nudging you playfully. "What was it you just mumbled? Something about me rotting in hell?"

You peeked at her through your fingers, "…maybe."

She laughed, and God, it was the best sound in the world. Even though it´s six in the morning, you don´t really mind the reason you´re awake now.

"You’re an agent, baby," she said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Not in the next five minutes," you mumbled, reaching for her hand and intertwining your fingers with hers, "Cuddles?"

Natasha let out a dramatic sigh, "fine, but only for five minutes."

You grinned sleepily, tugging her down into your arms. She didn’t resist, in fact, she melted into you, resting her head against your chest, her fingers idly tracing shapes against your arm.

"This is nice," she murmured.

You hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of her head, "told you."

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "Alright, I’ll admit it. You might have been right."

"Might have been?" You smirked at her.

She sighed, "alright, fine, you were right."

You grinned triumphantly, hugging her tighter. Natasha chuckled, tilting her head up to look at you. Her green eyes softened, and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek.

"I love you," she murmured.

Oh my god.

For a moment, all you could do was stare. Your sleep-addled brain scrambled to catch up, to process that Natasha Romanoff had just said I love you for the first time. The room was still, the only sound the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the soft rustling of the sheets as Natasha shifted slightly beside you. Your heart pounded against your ribs, like it knew the weight of those words before your brain could fully register them. She had said it so softly, so easily, like she wasn’t even afraid of it. Like it wasn’t some impossible, unreachable thing.

Natasha looked at you, her green eyes searching yours, and for the second time ever, she looked nervous. Like she thought maybe she had messed up. Like she thought maybe you wouldn’t say it back. Which was insane, because of course you would.

Of course, you did.

"Say it again," you whispered, barely realizing the words had left your mouth.

Natasha blinked. "What?"

"Say it again." Your voice was a little stronger this time, but still breathless, like you’d just been hit with a wave of something so big it knocked the air from your lungs.

Natasha's lips twitched into the faintest smile. And then quieter, but with no less certainty-

"I love you."

Something in your chest burst. You let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh, before grabbing her face and kissing her senseless. Natasha let out a surprised sound but melted into it instantly, her arms winding around your waist as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. When you finally pulled back, just enough to look at her, you were grinning like an absolute fool.

"You-" You shook your head, pressing another quick kiss to her lips, "you love me."

"I do." Natasha’s voice was amused now, a little lighter, a little happier.

"You love me," you repeated, as if testing the words in your mouth.

Natasha chuckled. "Is that really so surprising?"

"Yes! No! I mean-" You laughed again, completely overwhelmed, "I just- God, I love you so much."

Natasha's expression softened, and you swore you saw her eyes shine just a little. "Yeah?" she murmured.

"Yeah," you breathed. "So much."

She smiled, the kind of smile that made your knees weak, even though you were already lying down.

Since Natasha had told you she loved you, everything had been amazing. She had never been an overly affectionate person before, but now? Now she was. She kissed you in the hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.. She pulled you into her lap when you both sat on the couch, arms wrapped around you like she needed to physically anchor herself to you. She always, always held your hand whenever you were walking together.

She made you feel loved. And in return, you loved her hard. You loved her with your touch, with the way you reached for her first thing in the morning, still groggy but always needing her close. You loved her with your words, whispering soft things against her skin late at night, telling her all the reasons she was good, she was worthy. You loved her with your patience, never pushing when she got quiet, never demanding more than she was ready to give.

But still…

Still, something lingered in her.

Although things were better, although she had you and people were being nicer, there was something inside her that just wouldn't settle. A restlessness. Some nights, when you were fast asleep, Natasha would sit at the edge of the bed and just watch you. She would grip the blanket tight in her fists, pressing the fabric to her face just so she could smell you, so she could drown herself in something warm, something real.

She didn’t know why she did it. Or maybe she did.

Maybe it was because she was still trying to believe it.

Trying to believe that this was real. That you were real. That the love you gave her wasn’t something temporary, wasn’t something that would be ripped away the moment she blinked too long. She wanted to believe she belonged here. That this - this bed, this warmth, this person - was home.

But… what was home, really?

The Red Room? Moscow? The cold walls of S.H.I.E.L.D.? The battlefield?

Was she the assassin, the spy, the Black Widow capable of having a home?

Sometimes, she would stare at you, watching the way your lips would part slightly when you slept, the way your brows would furrow if she shifted too much.

And she would wonder… does she love the real me?

The real her. The one with blood-stained hands. The one who had taken lives, who had done horrible things. The one who, despite everything, still questioned whether she was anything more than a killer. Maybe you loved the version of her that you saw. The one who teased you in the mornings, who kissed you breathless in empty hallways, who pulled you into her arms without hesitation.

Maybe you loved that Natasha.

But what about the other one?

What about the Natasha who had once followed orders without question? The Natasha who had ended lives with a steady hand and an empty heart? The Natasha who still, even now, sometimes felt like she was nothing more than a weapon?

Did you love her, too?

Would you still love her if you knew, if you really knew, what she had done?

She didn't know. And she was scared to find out.

So after some time she just thought that faking till you make it sounded like a great idea. It started small. The lingering glances. The playful smirks. The way Natasha would lean in just a little too close when someone was talking to her, her eyes sharp and inviting in a way that made people stumble over their words.

At first, you brushed it off.

You knew Natasha. You knew she wasn’t the type to cheat, not even close. But it was hard to ignore how much she entertained it. The winks she threw back. The way she’d chuckle at comments that were a little too flirtatious. The way she let people’s hands linger on her arm or shoulder when they spoke.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just her way of fitting in, showing people she wasn’t the cold, untouchable Black Widow they once thought she was.

And you got it. You did. For so long, she had felt unwanted, feared, alone.

And now, for the first time, people were seeing her differently. They were choosing her. Not because she was a weapon or a threat, but because they liked her.

And it made her feel… valued.

So you let it go.

Until you couldn’t.

It was one night in your shared room, Natasha sitting at the small desk while cleaning one of her knives, humming softly to herself. You sat on the bed, playing with the hem of your shirt, thoughts swirling too fast in your mind.

"Nat?"

She hummed in response but didn’t look up.

You took a breath. "I love you."

That made her pause. Her hands stilled, and she turned her head to look at you, brows furrowing slightly. "I know," she said softly with a small smile.

But you weren’t really saying it to her. You were saying it to yourself. Like some kind of reassurance. A desperate attempt to convince yourself that everything was okay. That she loved you… that she wanted you.

That this didn’t mean anything. Because it didn’t, right? But still, something gnawed at you. Something bitter and heavy, curling in your stomach, whispering thoughts you didn’t want to listen to.

Am I enough?

Maybe the others were more fun. Maybe they weren’t as serious. Maybe they made her laugh more.Maybe they didn’t come with the weight of whispered confessions in the dark, the burden of knowing all her scars, inside and out. Maybe it was easier with them.

Maybe-

"Hey," Natasha’s voice pulled you back, soft but firm. She was kneeling in front of you now, her hands gently resting on your thighs, brows drawn together in concern, "what’s wrong?”

You swallowed, shaking your head, "nothing."

She didn’t believe you. Of course, she didn’t. She tilted her head slightly, studying you the way she did when analyzing an opponent in a fight, like she was picking apart every little movement, every hesitation, every weakness. "Talk to me," she said quietly.

And you wanted to. You really wanted to.

But how could you?

How could you tell her that while she was struggling with believing she belonged, you were struggling with believing you were enough? You sighed, rubbing your palms over your face. "It’s nothing serious. I’ve just been overthinking a lot."

Natasha didn’t move from her spot in front of you, still kneeling, her hands now tracing slow circles over your thighs. "Overthinking what?"

You hesitated. You weren’t lying, not really. But you weren’t saying everything either. Because if you did, if you voiced all the thoughts racing through your mind it might make them real.

So instead, you forced a small smile, shaking your head. "Just… if what I’m doing now is enough."

Natasha’s brows furrowed. "Enough?"

You exhaled, "like… as an agent, as a person, in-" Your voice wavered. "In us." It slipped out.

Her grip on you tightened slightly. "Of course, you’re enough." And the way she said it, so fiercely, so certainly, made your chest ache. She shifted, lifting herself up to sit beside you on the bed, her hand finding yours. "What’s making you feel this way?"

You shrugged, staring down at your intertwined fingers. "I don’t know. I think it’s just… everything."

Natasha was quiet for a moment, and you could almost see the gears turning in her head, the way her mind dissected every little piece of information you gave her. Finally, she sighed, leaning in and pressing her lips softly to your temple. "I love you," she murmured against your skin.

It sent a warmth through your chest, but it didn’t erase the lingering thoughts completely.

And maybe Natasha knew that.

Maybe that’s why, as she pulled back, she searched your face so intently, as if trying to see past whatever walls you were keeping up.

But then something shifted in her own expression. Something almost unreadable. She glanced away, exhaling slowly.

And that’s when you realized-

She was thinking, too.

Overthinking.

You squeezed her hand. "Nat?"

She didn’t answer right away, staring at a spot on the floor like it had the answers to something she didn’t even know how to ask. "I just…" she started, but then shook her head, letting out a quiet laugh that lacked any humor.

"Now you’re overthinking," you pointed out gently.

Natasha exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, well… you’re not the only one who does it."

Your brows knit together. "What are you overthinking?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. And for the first time in a while, Natasha looked uncertain. She was always so sure, so sharp, so steady. But now, there was something hesitant in the way she held herself. Like she wasn’t sure if she was standing on solid ground anymore.

You turned to face her fully, giving her the same patience she had given you. "Talk to me."

She scoffed softly, "that’s my line."

You smiled, nudging her lightly, "it can be mine, too."

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I just…” She swallowed, "I´m not sure if I fit in."

Your breath hitched. "What?"

She ran a hand through her hair, her voice quieter now. “I mean, what if people like the fun me, not the weird killer one, but the one that´s…” she gestured vaguely, "normal."

Your chest tightened. "Nat-" You stared at her, heart aching. Because you understood. You understood the weight she carried, the doubt that gnawed at her, the fear of being seen as something she wasn’t sure she could escape. "People like you for who you are, right now. They enjoy your presence, I enjoy your presence. All the time."

To you, there was no version of Natasha to love. There was just her. And maybe… maybe you both needed to figure that out together. So after your talk you just spend cuddling tighter than usual, not talking at all, just enjoying your time together.

Over the days, Natasha had been even more open to others, for some reason, which didn´t help you with the "overthinking" part. It wasn’t just the occasional banter anymore, it was something more. The teasing smirks, the way she leaned in just a little too close when speaking, the way her fingers ghosted over arms, her laugh coming a little softer, a little sweeter.

You wanted to understand this, but the only think you could do was to stend back and watch. She joked with Maria Hill in the training center, standing a little too close, her fingers lingering on Maria’s wrist just a beat longer than necessary as they laughed about something. You weren’t even sure what had been said, but it didn’t really matter. It was the pattern that was beginning to form. It wasn’t just Maria. Natasha was always surrounded by someone now, their attention drawn to her like moths to a flame. And she let them. Agents who barely looked at her months ago now jumped at the chance to train with her, to sit with her in the cafeteria, to find excuses to be near her.

And Natasha? She basked in it.

You didn´t said anything… but days turned to weeks, and it never stopped. If anything it got worse.

It was after training when you finally said something. The adrenaline still thrummed in your veins from sparring, your muscles sore in the best way, but all of it was overshadowed by the tight knot in your chest.

Natasha was drinking from her water bottle, wiping sweat from her forehead when you finally broke the silence.

"The flirting is too much."

She froze mid-motion, brow raising slightly as she looked at you, "wha- baby, you know I would never"

"I know," you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I know you wouldn’t do anything, but… I just don’t like them thinking they have a chance, you know?"

For a second, something flickered in Natasha’s expression, something uncertain, but then it was gone, replaced with that easy, confident smirk that had charmed so many people lately.

"You’re the only girl in my sight," she murmured, stepping closer, her voice dropping into something lower, something smoother. Your lips pressed into a thin line. She was doing it again. The charming words, the flirtation, the teasing little game she played when things got too close, too real. And then her fingers traced down your arm, light, deliberate, the heat of her touch sending shivers up your spine.

"You don’t need to worry," she whispered, pressing a kiss just below your ear. "I only want you."

You wanted to stay firm. You wanted to keep pushing, to tell her that wasn’t the point. But then her hands were on you, guiding, coaxing, pulling you into her orbit like she always did. Natasha had always been a master of control, of knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to pull someone under. And she knew exactly how to make you forget.

Natasha led you through the hallways of the compound, her fingers interlaced with yours, her touch grounding, magnetic. You weren’t fighting it anymore. Maybe you should have. Maybe you should have pressed harder, but right now, in this moment, you just wanted her.

"Our room," she murmured, glancing at you from the corner of her eye, a small smirk playing at her lips, "we can shower together." Her voice was low, inviting, and there was no point in pretending you didn’t want that too.

By the time you reached her room, Natasha was already peeling off her shirt, throwing it onto the chair in the corner without care. She turned back to you, stepping close, her fingers immediately finding your waist, tracing over your skin like she needed to remind herself you were real.

She kissed you - slow, deliberate, her lips moving over yours like she had all the time in the world. And then she whispered against your lips, "You’re mine." Her hands slid up, her palms warm against your skin.

"I’m yours," she murmured, pressing another kiss just beneath your jaw. "You’re amazing." The words kept coming, soft and steady, an anchor against the storm of thoughts that had been brewing in your mind for weeks. "You’re everything," she breathed.

Your fingers curled against her back, holding onto her, feeling the way her muscles tensed and relaxed beneath your touch. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to hold onto these words and let them fill the cracks that had started to form inside you.

Natasha rested her forehead against yours, her hands still tracing slow, soothing patterns against your sides. "No overthinking. Not right now," she whispered. "Just me and you."

She kissed you again, and for a little while, you let yourself believe her.

The steam curled around both of you, thick and warm, as the water cascaded down, soaking into your skin. Natasha’s hands never left you, not for a second. They traced along your arms, your waist, the curve of your back, as if she was mapping you out, committing you to memory, ensuring you were still here, still hers.

The shower wasn’t just a shower… it was something else entirely. A quiet space where the world didn’t exist, where doubts couldn’t reach, where words weren’t needed because her touch spoke louder than anything she could say.

Her forehead pressed against yours, water dripping between you, and she whispered it again, "I love you". Over and over again. It was reverent, almost fragile, like she was convincing herself just as much as she was convincing you.

Your hands found her, fingers threading through damp strands of red as she kissed you, deep and slow, like she was breathing you in. Every touch, every movement, felt like a plea - don’t doubt me, don’t doubt this, don’t leave.

She held you like you were something precious. Like you were something she wasn’t sure she deserved but was too afraid to let go of. Her lips brushed over your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin as she murmured, "you´re everything to me."

The weight of those words settled deep in your chest. She didn’t say it often, definetly not like this. Not stripped down to its rawest form, with no teasing, no distractions. Just her, open and vulnerable, asking for something she didn’t quite know how to name. So you gave it to her.

Your fingers trailed along her spine, tracing invisible lines over old scars, new ones, the history of everything she had endured and survived. "I love you too, so much," you whispered, barely audible over the steady rush of water.

Natasha exhaled, a shaky breath against your skin, and then she held you tighter, as if grounding herself in your warmth. She kissed you again, not rushed, not desperate. Just deep. Meaningful. Like she was pouring everything into it, everything she didn’t know how to say.

taglist: @starrycherie, @esposadejoyhuerta

[screaminglygay]

ADELEE here’s my angst idea hehe :)) it might be long I’m sorry in advance

Ok so nat gets recruited to shield when the kgb fell and starts working for them. At the same time, we also got recruited, just another average non-widow spy that they thought could help. We’re pretty average. But we make friends fast. We’re super nice and kind hearted so it was easy for us. But nat was having a hard time adjusting. She had a cold demeanor and everyone still hated the Russians so they were just overall meh about her. But we had a smol crush on Nat so we tried to make her feel welcome and would invite her to things or cook extra food for her. Overtime we became friends.

Our stamp of “approval” helped other shield agents to begin lowering their guard and trusting nat more. It helped her make a couple friends and ppl would start smiling at her in the hallways. She began to feel more comfortable. Then one night, we were hanging out w nat and she just kissed us out of the blue. She kept apologizing but we were rlly happy it finally happened. One thing led to another and we started dating. When other shield agents found out tho, that the kindest person at shield liked natasha, they started seeing her in a different light. Not only were ppl friendly to her now, they also started flirting with her. It rlly boosted her ego bc she really felt like everyone hated her there for so long.

Although nat has us + ppl were nicer now, she still was feeling off. She didn’t feel like she was home. She didn’t know who she was nor what “home” meant. There would be nights where she’d come and hold our blanket w our scent on it and just watch us sleep in hopes that she could feel that sense of peace one day that we seemingly had. So when these flirty comments started coming, she had a hard time shooting them down. She didn’t cheat or anything but she rlly liked entertaining ppl + definitely led them on. It made her feel valued, filling that hole in her heart of not feeling like she belonged.

We of course got rlly sad. We trusted Nat always but things just kept getting out of hand. Every time we’d be mad or sad abt it, Nat would just placate us with the best sex and convince us to let it go. But our final straw was when she ignored us at a party to go entertain Maria hill who rlly thought she had a chance. And when we went up to her asking for a dance she rolled her eyes to get Maria to giggle.

We sob and cry and break up w her that night and leave her feeling so alone. Lonelier than she was when she first joined. But she was determined to keep up her cool girl exterior so ppl would still flirt w her and see her as all that. We end up quitting shield bc we didn’t wanna deal w it anymore. She never saw us after that.

AND THEN. One day, fury starts the avengers. Nat, ofc, became an avenger. At this point in her life, she really changed a lot. She went to therapy, she worked on herself, healed, she started exploring who she wanted to be, who she considered family (and the avengers became that for her). She was sure of herself, grounded, stable, and grew into the strong woman we know now as The Black Widow. Soon enough, wanda and pietro joined the team. (Pietro can stay alive or be dead idc LOL). She and wanda were casual friends, not super close but they enjoyed each others’ company. Wanda spent a lot of time outside of the compound anyways, walking around lakes, reading in parks, going to coffee shops and bookstores—she liked her time alone.

Anyways then one day, Tony built a new avengers tower and threw a HUGE housewarming party. Everyone was there, even Tony’s old friends from his non iron man days. Everyone’s friends of friends came, like it was a huge ordeal. Which meant, we came too. We were Wanda’s plus one. Turns out, we and wanda met when we bonded over wanting to buy the last copy of a book at a local bookstore. We dated ever since. She thought a huge party would be a good opportunity for u to meet everyone, since the party was just a come-and-go basis. She knew abt nat but she thought the party would be so big, u probs wouldn’t run into each other. She would only introduce u to the ppl she wanted u to meet, like Steve.

So there u were, in your killer outfit, nursing a drink in hand. Wanda, being a witch with fast metabolism, drowned her drinks trying to get drunk. You chuckle and go to get her another drink. At the bar, u see nat a few seats down. Not wanting to make it a big deal, u just smile and give her a quick nod before looking down and fidgeting your hands. She’s so surprised tho that she needs to know why you’re here. And she needs to know how you are, what you’ve been doing. She itches to tell u that she’s different now, she’s stable and secure and she wants to share the journey of how she got here. She wonders if now that she’s different, that you two might finally work out this time. But just when she’s about to walk over to you, wanda appears from behind you, grabbing your waist and giving you a kiss before asking what’s taking so long. Then she sees nat, glued to her spot, staring with her mouth agape. Gone was the cool and collected black widow, standing in front of them is just a heartbroken woman in shock.

Wanting to avoid any awkwardness, u wave and nat walks towards yall. You quickly tell her that you’re only here as Wanda’s plus one and politely compliment her outfit and say that u hope she’s doing well. You thought the convo would just end there and u could all grab ur drinks and go on your merry way, but nat ends up finding u later that night, asking if ur with wanda and how long. She apologizes for what she did all those years ago and wanted u to know that she’s better now. You tell her that you’re genuinely happy for her and she deserves to feel stable and have family.

Maybe the fic can end here OR MAYBE (😈) nat now harbors a bit of hate for wanda and it creates tension. And maybe Nat tries to break yall up bc she rlly wants u back. Especially now that the whole team has met u and likes u and you’re over at the compound all the time.

Anyways I’m SO SORRY this was so long. Feel free to take parts of it and ignore the rest. Or tweak things. Take creative liberty! Thanks for considering this, I rlly love your angst writing so much and am excited to see any part of this come into fruition :)

POSTING THIS IN 15 MINUTES!

Little moodboard for this lovely request.

spoiler alert: angsty roller coaster 🎢

[screaminglygay]

HIII sorry for bugging u abt this again but when ya gonna feeed us the chapssss teehee

Also was wondering if you’re gonna post all chaps at once or one by one?

hi hi hi! I´m posting the first part tomorrow!!!

It took me forever to re-read it and fix some things I didn’t like, my apologies! I also had a big project recently, but I’m finally a bit more free now. I’ll be posting the first part in about 12 hours. Thank you so much for your patience!

[screaminglygay]

Haii queen! No rush AT ALL just wondering how the fic is coming along and if you’d be open to posting the first part! :’) no rush or pressure tho!

Hiii! you’re so sweet! the fic is finished!!! I just have a lot of stuff going on, but I will post the first part this week. Probably after Wednesday!:)

It’s gonna be divided into three parts, so each one has around 10k!

Thank you for being patient, I really appreciate it <3

[screaminglygay]

Natasha headcanons for my long fic!

an: I still haven’t finished the fic, so here’s some little headcanons!:) fic will be out next week!!!

opposites attract just fine

Natasha is all sharp smirks and dry wit, while you’re the warm presence that lights up every room. She rolls her eyes whenever people call you sweet, but secretly, she agrees with it especially, when you flash that radiant smile at her after missions.

everyone loves you (and Nat pretends to be jealous)

You’re the golden child of the team, everyone gravitates toward you. Natasha acts annoyed when other agents steal your attention, thinking, “she’s mine, find your own ray of sunshine.” But deep down, she loves how easily you bring people together.

silent protection mode

You’re an agent, just as capable as she is, but Natasha still has this black cat habit of lurking around you, subtly making sure you’re okay. If you so much as wince after a mission, she’s dragging you to medical with an unreadable expression. “I’m fine, Nat.” - “You’re bleeding, try again.”

mornings together

Natasha is a morning person, she wakes up with the energy of someone who slept for a full eight hours (even when she didn’t). You grumble and hide your face in the pillow while she tries to coax you out of bed with coffee and forehead kisses.

you definitely bring the soft side out of her

She has a reputation for being intimidating, but when it comes to you? She’s soft. You’re the only one allowed to ruffle her hair, steal her hoodies, or get away with poking her sides.

training together

Sparring sessions are a mix of you using agility and speed to keep up with Natasha’s precision, and her playfully taunting you when she gets the upper hand. “Come on, sunshine, you can do better than that.” - “I’d be better if you weren’t distracting me with those arms” ;)

Natasha pretends she isn’t a romantic (she totally is)

She’ll say she’s not into grand gestures, but then she’ll casually remember your favorite coffee order, patch you up after missions with the gentlest touch, or leave little notes in your gear that say “Don’t die. I’ll be pissed.”

protective, but in very Natasha way

She doesn’t hover, but if anyone dares to look at you wrong, she’s already analyzing the best way to end them. “Nat, I can handle myself.” - “I know. But they don’t know I won’t let them live if they mess with you.”

your sunshine is rubbing onto her

She claims she doesn’t do cute things, but suddenly she’s making you tea when you’re stressed, sitting closer just to feel your warmth, and allowing herself to smile more because you bring out the best in her.

[screaminglygay]

It’s 1am and I’m on 30k now… 🙂 what is writing, if not sleep deprivation persevering?

But fr I need to go to sleep, but I also need to finish this #struggleisreal 🤙

So I´m writing this angsty natasha x reader fic, later on it´s wanda x reader, right.

And I´m halfway done and it´s over 10k, so my question is... would you guys like it as two part fic or one reallyyyy long part? I think its gonna be around 20+k.

Spoiler alert: bring tissues, you´ll need them.

[screaminglygay]

So I´m writing this angsty natasha x reader fic, later on it´s wanda x reader, right.

And I´m halfway done and it´s over 10k, so my question is... would you guys like it as two part fic or one reallyyyy long part? I think its gonna be around 20+k.

Spoiler alert: bring tissues, you´ll need them.

[screaminglygay]

I´m just halfway done with this one and I just know the end will destroy me. It´s already killing me and I´m not even writing the angst. Oh boy. Have mercy, but not really.

@esposadejoyhuerta i´ve seen your request and oh my god, such a great idea, i love it sooo much and its gonna destroy me 100%, but i will write it soon!

[screaminglygay]

@esposadejoyhuerta i´ve seen your request and oh my god, such a great idea, i love it sooo much and its gonna destroy me 100%, but i will write it soon!