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trikruismybitch · 1 year

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Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Clint & Natasha are on Vormir and just as Nats about to jump something stops her.

“You tell them yourself.” Natasha shoots her widow bites at Clint before turning to jump off the cliff. An explosion happens and she’s knocked off her feet as she holds her side. Looking up she sees Clint drop his bow before starting to run but then suddenly he freezes mid-step.

“Clint?” Natasha gets up and walks to him but he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t even flinch when she waved a hand infront of his face which increasingly worries her as she shakes him and he still doesn’t budge from his spot. It’s like he’s frozen in time.

“He’s okay.” A soft voice says from behind her

Shooting around Natasha takes a defense position as she raises her arms at the woman before her. Quickly assessing her she has (Y/h/c) hair in a half updo with the rest flowing freely down what Natasha can tell was maybe mid-back. Her posture remained natural with both hands clasped infront of her in a non-threatening position which does nothing to relax Natasha.

“Who are you,” She presses as the woman before she smiles slightly before answering

“I’ve gone by many names but the one I have chosen for myself is (Y/n),” she goes to take a step toward Natasha which causes Natasha to raise her arm that she had previously dropped. (Y/n) raises her hands in a placating manner before speaking again, “I am not here to hurt you Natalia.”

“How do you know that name?” Natasha prods

Y/n raises her eyebrow “It is your given name is it not?” Natasha’s face remains neutral “I know many things.” She says vaguely

“Why are you here?”

“Well the first it to stop you from killing yourself,” the (Y/h/c) says like she’s scolding a child, “The second is to...talk.” She says with a shrug

“What did you do to Clint? You say your not here to hurt me but he’s frozen.” She asks

“I guess you can say I can control time, along with other things. He’s not in any pain he’s just stuck in that moment.”

“What are you?”

“I guess you can say I am being out of space and time,” (Y/n) shrugs “My siblings and I were of the first beings to be upon this earth but as it developed we were cast out, forced to watch and never interfere in the life’s of mortals.” (Y/n) turns around to look at the rising sun leaving Natasha a very ample opportunity to kill her. If what she says is true then Natasha probably couldn’t kill her, not that she wants to, something about her is familiar.

Natasha walks forward till she’s standing a few feet away from (Y/n) as she takes in the rising sun “What do you want with me, besides trying to save my life and talk.”

“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?” The woman beside her asks.

Furrowing her eyebrows Natasha looks at the woman. Just now noticing enticing (Y/e/c) eyes that give her a sense of security and as weird as it may seem she feels safe with her.

“Volgard” and within the blink of an eye Natasha was there she gasps lightly.

“Don’t worry about Clint he’s okay still frozen but safe on Vormir.” She answers before Natasha even asks earning a thankful nod in return.

“Why me?” The redhead breaks the silence “Why are you doing this?”

The (Y/h/c) woman sighs as she sits down patting the spot next to her Natasha following. “As I am forbidden to interfere in mortal matters unless called upon which now a days is highly unlikely, but I’ve been watching you.” Natasha doesn’t know whether to take it as a compliment or to be a little creeped out, she settles on both.

Turning her head to look at the goddess sitting next to her she finally takes into account just how beautiful the woman sitting next to her is. The glow of the sun setting against her skin casting an utheral glow around her. Feeling eyes on her she turns to face her before giving her a a gentle smile as she lays her hand on top of Natasha’s.

“I’ve watched you grow up beating all the odds stacked against you. The future is usually written for everybody, everyone serving a purpose. You were supposed to die in the red room,” The woman states speaking again before Natasha can speak “Its uncommon for someone to beat the odds when they’re stacked so highly against them. You were around 10 when Madama B made you fight one of the older girls.”

Natasha’s breath hitches as the memory comes to mind. She had been disrespectful and payed the price by being forced to fight a much older girl who was 15 at the time. Madame B was using her as an example to teach the others a lesson about what would happen if you didn’t comply. Instead of Natasha dying she ended up winning the fight “I had watched and thought your fight was over but you got up and won.” You chuckled lightly your fingers lightly trailing over Natasha’s with a gentleness she hadn’t felt before.

“I kept a much closer eye on you after that. When you escaped the red room I was so proud,” you murmered gazing in the green eyes you had fallen in love with “Then you joined SHIELD and turned yourself around. I was happy you had Clint he’s a good guy.” You turn your head looking off into th distance as Natasha still looks at you “Then Budapest happened.” Your face turned dark as clouds started forming rapidly over head “When Taskmaster shot you...the bullet was inches from your heart.” You took a deep breath the skies clearing once again “You probably remember as well as I do Clint was nowhere near you busy trying not to die but,” You look at Natasha “You were about to die. I heard you calling asking for anyone to help you and so I did.” Natasha inhaled deeply tears filling her eyes but never falling.

“You were the woman I saw,” She shook her head “I thought I saw an angel i felt the bullet wound closing. When I told Clint he told me I just had a nasty concussion because there was no wound.” She watches as you expose your chest where a scar sits right where Natasha had been shot.

“You took my wound? What-I-how?” She splutters confused as she asks her question.

“You were drifting between life and death. It was the only thing I could do to save you,” you shrug covering up your chest “It was nothing.”

It was anything but nothing actually. You almost died. For the first time in a millennia you had been hurt, willingly taking on a wound for a mortal had almost gotten you cast out. Your parents were furious for interfering in the mortal world, your siblings disappointed. You argued that she called and asked for help, they said she should’ve died as she was, it was far too late. They told you, your infatuation with a human would get you killed one day. They weren’t wrong.

“I’m immortal” you tell her “A bullet wound won’t kill me. Hurts like a bitch as you would say.” Natasha snorts at that shaking her head

“I still don’t understand why me out of everyone in the universe.” She looked up into the sky.

Natasha really couldn’t fathom why you, a goddess, immortal being cared about her well-being, it just didn’t make sense.

“Why not you?” You question “You got delt the wrong cards since birth. Even fate had tried to turn against you, yet you preserved. You have sacrificed your life time and time again for the greater good.” A white flash appeared and they were standing in Vormir again “You have given willingly and unselfishly, trying to clear the red in your ledger,” You take her hands in your own, “You have cleared that ledger twice over Natalia. I will not let you sacrifice your life as if it means nothing.” Natasha’s heart aches and tears fall down her face at your words.

She had been trying so hard to make up for her past mistakes and here was a moniote being that knew and seen everything she had done and told her it was enough. That all her work in clearing her ledger had been past. But (Y/n’s) final words caught up to her as she released her hands taking a step back.

“I won’t let you sacrifice Clint.” She said defiantly “He has a family, no matter what he has done in the last five years, he needs to go home.” She did not expect a light laugh and a bright smile from you in return.

You cup her cheeks and look into her eyes “After everything we have talked about, you truly thought I would let your bestfriend die?” You chuckle at her obliviousness “I wish for you to never be in anguish ever again Natalia and losing Clint would cause you pain, a pain I wish to keep you from.” You sigh as you feel the time for what you have to do comes nearer.

*flashback*

You watch as Natasha arrives on Vormir before feeling a presence behind you.

“I know what you are thinking and you cannot.” He says coming to stand next to you watching over the woman that had unknownly captured your heart

“You are important கேட்பது” he speaks using your creation name. (listening)

You smile at your brother “I have not heard that name in centuries” you put your hand on his shoulder drawing him closer.

“Listen வீடு I know you feel it is your duty to keep the home together and that father and mother are pressuring you to stop me but it won’t work.” (Home)

Qazius looks at you in sorrow his blue eyes water for the first time in a melina “Why are you leaving us?” He turns you to face him, his hands in your shoulder tighten “We have been through everything together what am I to do without you?”

“You will watch over Natalia for me.” You ask his jaw clenches at her name. He does not care for her, especially for what she’s is unknowingly forcing you to do. “Brother” you clasp your hand against his on your shoulder “I know you feel as if Natalia is taking me away from you but I will always be in here.” You point to his heart. “This is my choice, I have lived for far too long. It is time I join our fallen family, but I need you to promise me to look after Natalia. I asked எதிர்கால to show me her future and she seems to have a peaceful one but in case fate decides to stray I need you to protect her,” his blue eyes let out a few more tears, “for me.” You ask pleadingly. (Future)

He pulls you into him one last time wishing he could keep you here “I swear it by the old and new.” He promises.

You pull away “You were always my favorite, younger brother.” You smile one last time before disappearing

Qazius looks to where you meet the woman that is unknowingly causing your doom. He had never felt the love you claim to feel for her, maybe one day he will.

*flashback over*

“I don’t understand,” Natasha shakes her head running through all the possibilities “Are you saying you can get the stone without a sacfirice?” She questions

“Not exactly,” you step away from her as you look down the cliff “You and Clint will not die, I promise you that.” You turn and face her again sensing her confusion “I must ask you something, you may decline of course.” You clasp your hands behind your back as you take a step forward in Natalia’s personal space “May I kiss you?” You unclasp your hands as your nervously fiddle with your dress

Natasha’s eyebrows shoot upwards. Your quite beautiful in fact that’s probably the first thing she noticed about you but she was too busy trying to determine if you were a threat. She looks at you noticing the way you rock on your heels while you fiddle with your dress but despite your obvious nervousness you maintain eye contact with her, face neutral despite obviously being nervous from her reply. It’s honestly cute.

Natasha smirks a little stepping closer “And what would I get in return.” she teases not actually wanting anything.

You take a step closer so your noses are touching hesitantly placing your hands on her waist, “A glimpse of your future and the answer to how you can get the soul stone.” Natasha blinks a few times not actually expecting anything but nods slowly as you both lean in.

For you it’s everything you have ever wanted. Despite being alive for eons it’s the first time you ever truly felt alive. You pull her in closer her hands finding perch on your face. Your heart beats wildly as volcanoes erupt in your stomach. Feeling like your being lit on fire as every hair on your body stands up. Tingles roll down your spine and settle in your stomach as you force yourself to pull away and open your eyes. Her eyes are still closed before she strikes back abruptly out of your arms and her eyes shoot open.

For Natasha your lips are the softest thing she’s every felt. She can feel you gently holding her waist a stark contrast to the strength you must hold. An enslaught of flashes are brought before her eyes. Her holding the soul stone, Clint at her side a heavy feeling in her heart as she hands it to Steve. Steve on the ground behind her as Thano’s stands above Thor with Stormbreaker being forced into his chest as Mjnor sits a few feet infront of her. Standing infront of a lake the heaviness in her heart weighing more as Wanda comes to stand next to her. Sam standing next to Bucky and her with Steve’s Shield in his hand the heaviness in her chest even more. Wanda stands infront of her smiling brightly holding her hand. A small figure with red hair and blue-green eyes staring at her in her arms babbling Mama. Finally an image of you apologizing to her before falling backwards. The flashes end forcing Natasha to move out of your hold as she regains her bearings.

“I-You,” she stands up ridgedly her mind finally coming to the conclusion “You can’t.” She says

You look at Natasha with sorrow, “You’ve brought something to me that I never thought I’d feel for another. Love. You may not know me Natasha but you have brightened my life and lit a fire in my very being. Your worthy Natalia remember that,” you take a step backwards as your foot is met with nothing “I’m sorry.” You fall backwards

“No!” Natasha yells but she’s too far away from the cliff and by the time she makes it to the edge your body lay lifeless. The sky rumbles and cries before a flash appears.

Natasha wakes up next to Clint in a pile of water. She sits up and feels something in her hand. Looking down she slowly opens it revealing the soul stone shining brightly.

“Natasha?” Clint sits up looking confused. He looks at her and noticing the stone in her hand “How?” He asks scooting closer to her.

She looks up as a tear drops from her eye.

“So your telling us, a goddess that has been around for eons has been watching you since you were a kid, somehow fell in love with you and sacrificed herself so neither of you had too?” Tony recounts. Natasha nods her head in conformation as Tony scoffs and rubs his head “I’m grateful but honestly it just seems too good to be true, was she even a real goddess?” He questions when they all suddenly hear the skies roar with thunder and lighting. They all look to Thor who’s puts his hands up, shaking his head. Tony looks at Natasha and her crestfallen face. He grabs her shoulder “We’ll avenge her,” he looks to everyone “And we’ll get everyone back.”

It was after the battle. Tony died. Steve left and is old now. Clint went home to his family. And Natasha stands looking out on the lake thinking about everything that has happened in the last day, mostly about Y/n and her sacrifice. The guilt she felt roaring inside her.

She hears silent footsteps thinking it was Bucky or Sam she ignores them until a man in a a white three piece suit with gold ascents stands a few feet next to her. Before she can even speak he speaks in a soft tone.

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” He continues to look across the lake ignoring the way Natasha’s head snapped towards him. “She made a decision and once her mind is made up, no one can change it,” he turns his head cold blue eyes locking with Natasha’s, “Trust me because I tried.” He turn to look at the lake again

“Who are you?” She asks already having an idea but trying not to make assumptions

“My name is Qazius. I am,” he pauses slightly “was (Y/n’s) younger brother.” He answers

Natasha doesn’t know what to say for the first time in her life. She’s at a loss of words. They just stand in silence for awhile before Qazius breaks it.

“I didn’t understand why she cared for you so much until I watched you battle today,” he glances at her briefly, “You’re fierce and unrelenting, you have a fire burning in you to protect and sacrifice no matter the cost. It’s admirable and I can see why she loved you.” He states

“I’m sorry.” Natasha apologizes. Qazius looks at her confused “About (Y/n),” his eyes flash with pain before masking it again but Natasha caught it, “I may have not known her but she protected me without me knowing and the time I did spend with her showed me how kind and caring she was.”

Qazius looks at her like he’s seeing her for the first time “Thank you mor-” he stopped himself short before correcting himself “Natasha. She was the best of us.” He says. Natasha glanced at him questionly “Out of all my siblings (Y/n) had the kindest heart and the most empathy out of us all. She wanted us to help you humans even after we had been casted out eons ago by your ancestors.” He looks at her “I think you had a lot to do with it. You inspired her to try to change our minds, told us we had a responsibility despite what humans thought. She failed...but maybe now that she’s gone that will change.” He looks away from Natasha seeing a woman with auburn hair making her way towards them.

He turns to Natasha offering his hand. She looks at it before taking it feeling something being handed to her. “This was her necklace,” he looks behind him, the woman’s closer and he can feel the power radiating off of her even from the distance, “It signifies her haven been the first born. I think she’d like it if you’d have it.” He tells her

“I can’t take this.” She tries handing it back but he raises his eyebrow staring at her.

“Don’t refuse a gift from a god Natasha,” he smirks before sensing the woman was approaching “Whoever wears it will be protected,” he tells her as the woman comes to stand between Natasha and the man, “If you need me call my name.” He tells her smiling politely at the woman bidding them both farewell.

Wanda crosses her arms and stares at his retreating figure before looking towards Natasha “Are you alright?” She asks her.

Natasha looks at the pendent clutching it in her hand feeling a rush of power and a sense of what could only be described as the feeling she felt when she was with you wash over her, “Yeah,” The memory of Wanda smiling and holding her hand flashes into her mind, “Or at least I will be.”

The end

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #black widow fan fic #black widow x fem!reader #black widow x goddess!reader #natasha shouldn't have died #immortal!reader

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searchingfor-affection · 1 year

Text

Part Two // Found

Pairing: Natasha x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2760ish Warnings: obnoxious reader ;), Angst, longing, NSFW mentions or insinuations, Depression undertones, Happy ending tho x timeline diverges from cannon.

Artwork from Maxy Art on Instagram which found on Pinterest x

“HEY RHODEY!” You yelled from the garage.

“WHAT?!”

“CAN I TAKE YOUR SUIT FOR A RIDE?”

“WHYYY?”

“PLEASE, I GOT A HOT DATE AND I NEEDA DRESS TO IMPRESS”

He walks into the room laughter on his lips as he finds you standing before his suit, a bowl of coco pops in hand and a mischevious smile spread wide across your face.

“Right, the iron patriot, is not datewear. Hands off” He eyed your bowl of cereal comically and watched you screw up your nose.

“Come on dude, it’ll be so suave. I’ll walk up to her, pop open the helmet and be all like ‘Hi there miss are you lost? Cause heaven is a long way from here.” Your friend burst out laughing which was abruptly silenced when your eyes flicked up behind him.

“Try ‘If nothing lasts forever will you be my nothing?’” Her tone was sour and her expression even more so. Natasha had been a jealous woman. Maybe territorial is more accurate and she had always been there to take on anyone who flirted with you. This was not the first time you'd seen her and you were sure it wouldn't be the last but every time you do, your heart breaks a little more.

You hadn't been prone to illusions previously but after a run-in with

---

When you turn and see her jealous but cocky smile you feel your heart shatter. You are torn between throttling your cereal at her and running into her arms. You turned back to Rhodey who was now standing beside you looking shocked and concerned.

“Is she really there or am I hallucinating again?” You grabbed Rhodey’s shoulder in an effort to stabilise yourself. Your eyes grew watery and you held your cereal bowl tighter. Only Rhodey could see the concern and guilt that flitted over Natasha’s face. He was silent as he tried to figure what you were going to do. It had been three years since you had returned to find her gone after the Accords. It had been two years since you stopped looking for her. You’d found Steve, Sam, and visited Clint. You had even met and befriended a hesitant Bucky. You couldn’t find Bruce but no one could. Thor you figured was doing his MC Hammer gig out on Asgard. Everyone but her and none of them could tell you where she was. You had been distraught, absolutely and undeniably fucked. Now you were emotionally constipated but having fun. This, this felt like everything that currently held your heart together had been severed. Everything that kept you together, functioning, alive… it was all gone now.

“Mmmhmm. I’m gonna get the limo ready for you because you won’t kill her in that,” He turned to you and it broke his heart to see how undone you already looked.

“We’ll see about that” you whispered your reply. You tried to gather yourself, ground yourself. 5 things you can see, 4 things you feel, 3 things you hear, 2 things you smell and one thing you taste.

Before Rhodey left intending to initiate Operation Damage Control he pulled you into a hug. “You’re ok Y/N. You are going to be ok”.

Operation Damage Control consisted of a nurse on standby, stocking up on your favourite foods and Mortal Kombat at the ready.

It was just you and Nat. You stood still. That deathly kind of still that sits in voids accompanied by the darkness of black holes. You tried to reign in your emotions. The anger, the sadness, the betrayal were all stampeding through you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe but it also felt like for the first time in three years the air was clean.

“Y/N-” Before she could say anything you turned around and threw your cereal bowl at her. The bowl smashed against the wall behind her but most of the soggy bits and milk hit her. She stood there awkwardly as the milk and cereal dripped off of her. Her green eyes were murky and regret filled them. She didn’t know what to do because you seemed to have changed so much. She didn’t know but she cared too much to say something and screw up now… again.

“Don’t you dare say my name like that. Not after three years of nothing.” You rushed out of the room before she could say any more.

1:58am - Day Two

The sound of your harsh punches hitting the punching bag echoed throughout the gym. You hadn’t been able to find the gloves and the pain funnelling through you took you straight to the bag. You punched and punched and punched till your knuckles started to crack. The bag jolted less after the next punch and you stopped to see if she was the one steadying it for you.

“Hey,” Rhodey said gently, “You ok sis?”

You wiped your nose, sniffling and nodding before you began to punch the bag again. You sped up as the anger rushed through you. You attacked the bag relentlessly and bit your cheeks as you tried to hold back tears. Your hands grasped at the bag, banging your fingers against it manically. Rhodey was quick to take you into his arms. You cried and he held you.

“You’re ok. It’s ok.” He whispered repeatedly.

Day Three

Natasha had never been bothered by the cold before you. She had never been bothered by the lack of romantic affection in her life but after you? She ached for your touch. She longed to worship your body with her lips. She craved the warmth of your body against hers. No one could compare to you. She sat in a trance on her bed, her favourite memory of you playing. You were stirring a big pot of sauce for lasagne with one hand leaning on the bench. She walked up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist so you were flush against her. You smelt soft and sweet and you laughed as she kissed your neck. You maintained the contact as you stirred the sauce and moved your free hand to entwine with Natasha’s around your waist. It was as if you melded together and had become two halves of one whole instead of two individuals.

It is an understatement to say Nat worried that her absence would haunt her. She felt where your lips had once touched hers. She remembered how it felt to have your hands caressing her. Her body remembered how it felt to watch you come undone. The sheer beauty had stunned her at first but soon she came to crave it. Natasha could almost feel where your fingers had once been as she moaned your name. Her skin tingled and her heart ached for you, for your touch. It didn’t come. All Natasha could try to do was get your attention. All she could do was try to talk to you and she had no idea how she was gonna do that so she went into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of your favourite coco pops. You are what you eat right.

“You know if she catches you eating that you’ll be wearing it again right?” She heard Rhodey say as he emerged from another room.

She nodded and took another mouthful making Rhodey roll his eyes.

“I just need her to talk to me,” She replied, her tone void of emotion but her eyes drowning in it.

“Uh huh, good luck accomplishing that while you consume what is possibly her most favourite thing on this planet.” Rhodey laughed as you entered the room.

“Hey Rhodey, for an upcoming mission I need… well not need want. I would like a stakeout buddy. Wanna come?” You ignored Natasha entirely not a peep not a single glance in her direction.

“Yeah, I’m down. When is it?”

“Not till next week. I gotta do a few minor surveillance missions and I have reports to fill out.” You grabbed the two boxes of coco pops from the cupboard. Muttering to yourself, “unbelievable, the nerve, you don’t just go into your ex-girlfriend’s cupboard and take her cereal.” Rhodey thought he could hear Natasha's heart shatter as you referred to yourself as her ex-girlfriend. Her mouth dropped. Her mind racing at how far screwed she was.

“Haha, sucker. You gotta do reports.” He laughed trying to ignore the tension that sat heavy in the air.

“Pfft so do you.” You continued to ignore Natasha as she cleaned her bowl.

Rhodey laughed, “this is true but not right now. Right now I get to eat a delicious lettuce and ham sandwich.” He chucked the ingredients on the bench as he said them. His eyebrows raised as you made to leave the room with your two boxes of cereal.

“What? My cereal is very important to me. Surveillance mission one? Don't let the coco pops be compromised.” You basked in Rhodey’s laughter and when Natasha chuckled over at the table you let yourself smile. It reminded you of late night chats, movie nights, dates. It reminded you of a life you thought you had left behind. Your smile didn’t go unnoticed.

Cereal still in hand, you made your way to your room muttering as you left. You put them on your dresser and returned to your office.

That night you were in the middle of kicking Rhodey’s butt at Mortal Kombat and after you had won for the fifth time he quietly asked you “do you really consider her your ex-girlfriend?”

You let out a heavy sigh. Did you? Did you really? The answer was no. You hadn’t broken up but the silence, the distance, the strain on your relationship had made it feel almost like you had lost a loved one. Or like they were missing.

“No, I don’t. It feels more like she’s missing or dead and I’ve just grown accustomed to the pain of losing her.” Rhodey nodded thoughtfully before responding.

“Do you think you’ll reconcile?”

“Maybe. I think at this point it depends on what she does and if I can get over my own bullshit. I need to forgive her but I can’t at the moment. In my soul, I hope we get over it because I love her so much it hurts but in turn I am really, really hurt. When I came back all I had was you. You’re my one consistent dude. Which is ace and all but that’s a different kind of love.”

“True and either way you guys are gonna need time before you can decide if you stay or if you go?”

You agreed with Rhodey and pretended you didn’t see her silhouette in the kitchen listening, still as a statue.

Day Six

Natasha still hadn’t spoken to you. No. No. No. Instead, she wore, spoke, laughed, moved in ways she knew would fluster you, make you smile, force you to chuckle. It had been three days of the most beautiful torture. It made the coldness inside you melt. The thought that she would do so much intentionally just to get the smallest response from you, it softened that wall you had put up all those years ago. It made you feel as if it was 5 years ago and all was well.

Natasha could see that her work, which it was, was working. You had brought your cereal back out into the cupboard, you sat and ate at the table with her. You had even spoken and eventually, you stopped looking like you were in pain every time you saw her.

Sure you could still often be found training alone at the crack of dawn, not having slept a minute. You still attacked equipment, kicking and punching it till either you or it broke. But afterwards you didn’t go for a run and you didn’t feel the need to run. You were working through what you faced in your home.

One afternoon after a successful mission Rhodey and Natasha were flying back.

“Are you going to actually have a conversation with her? Maybe Apologise” Rhodey asked hesitantly. He was over the tension in the house. He’d had to deal with so much of it during the accords and he was over it.

“I’m working on it. I don’t think she wants me. She tolerates me.” Rhodey scoffed.

“It’s not that she doesn't want you. It’s that she wants you so hard, she longs for you with every fibre of her being. For three years she searched and all she has reaped from her efforts is pain.”Nat froze in response. When she looked up at him he saw that she felt the loss, guilt and regret of leaving you.

“She’s usually training late at night and I know you’re up. You better figure something out. I’m not here to be a mediator but my best friend, my little sister is hurting bad. She deserves an explanation and you deserve a chance. She’ll give it to you. You just have to earn it.”

3:32 am

“Mi amour? Mi amour are you there?” Natasha watched as you tossed and turned in your sleep. Were you looking for her? Were you wondering why she left? Why she avoided you? What had she done? As she thought about how she might reconcile this, you sat up eyes wide sweating and puffing and her instincts kicked in.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.” she said as she sat beside you and pulled you into a hug.

It burned, it burned in the most beautiful way. It set your heart on fire and it pumped faster and faster and you weren’t ready. So you ran from her arms, you didn’t know where to and you could hear her behind you so you ran faster. You ran until you found yourself panting on the roof.

“Y/N?” She called softly. So softly you almost felt as if she still loved you. You almost forgot she left at all because in her voice you feel the longing for that oneness that you had once shared. As if all that you had been missing was behind you calling your name.

“Please, I’m sorry.” She called it out with a slight tone hysteria in her voice. She needed you to say her name. Anything to her. Anything at all. She just wanted to explain, she just wanted you to see how she longed for you. She needed you to see how much she still loved you.

“I’m so sorry baby.”

“Why?” You called out sobbing and crying. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Why didn’t you let me find you? Why did you leave me Nat? Why?” You sobbed. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you felt weak in the knees. The wind seemed to pick up and coldness cloaked you. It was a coldness that had drawn out your nights and ruined your dates. She cautiously walked till she stood beside you.

“I don’t understand.” You turned to face her and even dared to look her in the eyes. All the emotions you had pushed away were bursting at the seams of your heart. Natasha cautiously took your hands in hers as she began to explain herself.

“I left with Steve and then I went to find Bruce and I was trying to find my team and each and every night the cold kept me awake but I was sure that it was my mission to recover my team. My family. When I found out you were looking for me, I didn’t want to face you without a reason. I wanted to come back and show you that you weren’t abandoned in this mess. I wanted to be whole for you. I wanted our family to be whole for you.” Her voice cracked and she went silent as she watched your face. You looked disappointed but you let out a bitter laugh as you cried.

“You mean to tell me. That you broke my heart, trying not to break my heart.” She winced at your accusation. “You idiot. All I wanted was you. I could find everyone. Our team, our family is just that no matter where they are. All I want is you.” You sniffed, moving your hands to her cheeks as she moved hers to rest on your hips. She leaned her forehead against yours and you rested there for a moment. You felt like you were home, you were whole.

“And all I want is you.” She brought her lips up to yours and you melded together. You caressed her jaw and as you moved your hands so they were around her neck she slid hers over your ass. She pulled you closer as her tongue danced with her lips against yours. You had wanted, longed, dreamed of her body against yours for so long and your need drove you till you pulled apart only so you could take a breath.

“Mi Amour, never let me go again. Promise?” You asked in a breathy whisper.

“Never again, Lyubimaya moya,” She whispered a smile on face. She finally felt whole, as if the connection between you had been repaired, as if you were two halves again. Whole now that you were together.

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natperv · 2 years

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ever since st4 came out my tumblr feed is all ronance!!!!! what happened to the wandanat content?!2?/!: where is my wanda maximoff smut?!/?/! please im starving guys

#kit speaks #natasha romanoff #fic recs #wanda maximoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow fan fic #natasha romanoff fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #stranger things 4 #ronance

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megamindsecretlair · 25 days

Text

Foolish

*Heed warnings*

Pairing: Jatemme Manning x Bratty!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, size kink, mentions of violence, gun use, drug use, brat reader. Reader does get turned on by violence, if this disturbs you click away. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You are tired of being Jatemme's arm candy. Forever guarded and without 100% of his attention. As the race for Alderman heats up, you're at a fundraising event when you grow bored and decide to test Jatemme's devotion.

Word Count: 3,494k

A/N: I was a little unhinged writing this, so it was written in a bit of a daze. Please let me know what ya'll think about this one. I can't find the ask where people expressed interest so don't be mad at me if I didn't tag you! I'm sorry! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings

You were bored. Just because you told your man to leave you alone, didn’t mean you actually wanted him to do it. Why couldn’t niggas ever listen? What’s so hard to understand? “Leave you alone” obviously meant to give you attention?

You were at a fancy event for Jatemme’s brother, Jamal, who was running for Alderman. Snooze fest. Jatemme promised that you weren’t going to be here long. That you’d only have to sit like a doll for an hour tops, before he took you shopping and out to eat.

One hour turned to three and you were still sitting at Jamal’s table, surrounded by Jatemme’s crew while Jamal and Jatemme did business. You scanned the room for your man but didn’t find him.

You did see Jamal who was hard to miss. He was the type to walk into the room like he owned it and as if everyone owed him money for it. Jatemme was quieter, but deadlier. He instantly drew you in with his sleepy eyes, soft umber skin, and intense presence. His darkness called to something within you and never let go.

The relationship wasn’t without its up and downs. You liked to keep him on his toes. Get him to have a little fun. He always followed in Jamal’s shadow when it was Jatemme that did most of the work. Most of the planning. Most of the ideas.

You sighed, loudly once more, and turned briefly to your table to sip your nasty ass champagne. Fucking politicians. Pretending like they weren’t all into something dirty, getting over on the little guy. Namely Black folk.

Jatemme’s crew gave you funny looks. They knew better than to touch you or stare too hard. But you often caught them looking at your body and your too short dresses. They also hated your attitude. Jatemme made you swear to stop messing with them. It was hard to find good help when you were constantly flirting with them and he was constantly killing them over it.

Maybe that was Jatemme’s problem. Now that Jamal was running for Alderman, there was a public scrutiny on the family business. Jatemme doesn’t have free rein to do as he pleased now. Go wherever he wanted. Do whatever he wanted.

You sighed once more and checked your phone. You texted your best friends in your group chat, that you were bored and in desperate need of fun. Misty immediately texted you back and told you to meet them at a club not too far from there. That was exactly what you needed.

You looked over at the crew of four burly men and stood up. One of the them, Martin, stood up as well prepared to follow you. “No need, Marty, I’m just going to the little girl’s room,” you said and smiled sweetly.

Martin gave you a blank stare. He adjusted the suit jacket over his thick arms and put his hands in his pockets. “You know the rules,” he said.

You kept your sweet smile, knowing that your lips were glossed just so to catch the light overhead. That your champagne colored dress hugged your figure just right. The night was young and you were wasting it by being arm candy.

“You gonna follow me into the bathroom and hold my purse too? I don’t think Jay would like that,” you sang.

Martin looked towards the other men who looked everywhere but at him. They did not want that particular smoke. Decisions, decisions. Martin cleared his throat. “Come right back,” he said.

You smiled. “Of course. You all act like I’m not an angel,” you said. The men wisely didn’t comment. You turned and sashayed out of the room, already done with the entire night. You didn’t see your man and you didn’t care at the moment.

You waited until you left the hotel ballroom before pulling out your phone. You ordered an Uber on your way out to the front. People from the reception had spilled out into the hallway, discussing things that they didn’t want others overhearing, even by accident.

You passed by stick figure women in dark red, blue, or black dresses, pointy shoes, and stiff upper lips. You passed by men in their penguin suits, pretending to give a shit. The total wealth combined in the room could help everyone in the Ward but they held onto it like gremlins.

It made you sick.

You went outside, shivering slightly from the bite of cold. When your Uber arrived, you didn’t even look back towards the hotel. It was almost criminal how easy it was to slip your chains. Further proof that this shit was getting stale and you might be headed towards another break from Jatemme. Let him sit and stew over what he would miss before he came crawling back with gifts, kisses, and that big dick of his.

You grinned as you texted Misty that you were on your way. She texted back with plenty of emojis, some of them skulls, because she already knew that Jatemme was going to blow his lid. Let him.

It didn’t take long to reach the rougher areas of Chicago. Almost literally down the street from the glitterati, the houses weren’t as nice. The grass not so green. Fences and bars on the windows. Corner boys selling dope in baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts.

The club was set back from the street to allow for a little more parking. You got out and Misty met you outside. She hugged you with many squeals and jumping up and down. “Slipped the doom patrol?” She asked.

Misty was gorgeous, with deep, dark skin and microbraids twisted into two buns atop her head. She was a thick, curvy girl who was always quick with a laugh. She immediately ushered you inside. You turned off your phone. Make Jay sweat a little bit.

You spent the entire night dancing with your girls and getting drunk on your favorite drink. All of the songs were hitting, back to back. A mix of 2000s and 2010s music. The good shit that demanded you dance right this instant.

Plenty of dusty ass niggas tried to pull you into a dance and you pushed them all away. It cost to put hands on you. It cost to be in your presence. Ain’t nobody getting shit for free.

By the time the club called for last drinks, you were tapped out. You were not wearing the proper shoes for dancing in the club. You were shocked that you lasted as long as you did. And yeah, you missed your man. You were a little drink, a lot horny, and you just wanted to be fucked at this point and put to sleep.

You walked out, hanging onto your friends. One of them, Kiki, was the lightweight. She was dragged between two friends while she muttered something. You giggled and walked with them to their car.

Rounding the corner, there were a group of guys passing a joint between them. They wolf-whistled as you passed by. One of them sure was fine. Tall, bald, with a thick luscious beard that covered the lower half of his face. You wondered what he’d look like with your juices dripping from it.

You didn’t condone cheating. But if you were on a break…

You smiled at him as you passed, tossing your hair over your shoulders. “Gahh damn, lil mama, where you headed?” He asked.

You giggled and kept walking with your girls. It was nice to be wanted. You turned your phone on while your friends tried to get Kiki into the car and not entertaining the men by the building.

As it turned on, messages flew in with loud dings and flashes across your screen. You had…quite a lot of missed calls from Jatemme. Angry texts too. You appreciated that he never called you out of your name when he was angry, but he had plenty of other colorful ways to show his displeasure. Like calling you by your real name. Ew.

He was good and pissed that you left. That your phone was off. He promised hell, fire, and damnation when he finally caught up to you. You pictured him driving around fuming. His sleepy eyes narrowed even further. The cute way his nostrils would flare and the vein that pulsed in his neck.

You were getting wet just thinking about it. The sex would be immaculate tonight. You sighed dreamily as you went through his unhinged text messages.

“Bitch! Help? Hello?” Misty called out. You giggled and moved towards the car, pushing at Kiki’s big ass head to get into the car. Misty slammed the door in her face and sighed as if she’d been wrestling a bear.

She faced you with a small grin before her eyes darted behind you. The sexy bald headed man approached you, licking his lips and looking you up and down. He held out his hand when he was near enough.

“I had to come introduce myself,” he said.

“I appreciate that. But I’m too high-maintenance for you, boo,” you said. You flirted with the idea of being responsible for another man’s death, but he was too cute to sacrifice for your own dastardly enjoyment. There were so few, gorgeous Black men these days. The 90s had all the fine men. They were long gone now. God just wasn’t building them like that no more.

“I like a little high-maintenance,” he said.

You laughed. Said no man ever. “I’m the type to empty accounts,” you said and smiled.

“I got several. Pick one,” he said. He looked you in the eye as he said it and made you reevaluate him as a whole. He was dressed nice in dark plaid slacks, black polo, with a big watch on his wrist. Nothing too flashy, but enough that it convinced you he wasn’t another broke nigga.

You were considering his offer, wondering how you could prove that he was for real and not just trying to get into your panties. Squealing tires tore your gaze away from the man as you saw Jatemme’s truck flip a bitch into oncoming traffic and speed into the parking lot.

“Shit. You better run before my man catch you talking to me,” you said, though he probably already saw you.

“I ain’t scared,” the man said. Bless his little heart.

“Nigga, I’m trynna protect you. Leave, now,” you said, shooing him away from you and your girls. Maybe you could convince Jatemme that the man was trying to flirt with Misty. You turned behind you, but Misty held her hands up.

“I ain’t trynna die for your Black ass,” she said.

“Bitch!” You screamed, but you couldn’t stay serious for long. You grinned and shook your head. Before the truck had a chance to come to a full stop, Jatemme and crew hopped out, grabbing guns from their waistbands.

“They got guns!” Someone called out. The parking lot emptied with a speed only achieved in the hood. Too many people who knew the consequences of a stray bullet and weren’t trying to lose their lives over it. Some brave souls remained, peeking behind cars and around the building into the additional parking in the alleyway.

You couldn’t help it. Your thighs tingled. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Jatemme climb out of the driver’s seat with that slow, menacing gait of his. His eyes were glued on you as he walked towards you.

The cutie remained, like he would really stand in front of a bullet for you. You couldn’t give him any more warnings. You couldn’t save him from his own stupidity. Jatemme stopped a few feet in front of you.

His face was deceptively calm. He crossed his arms in front of him, Glock on display. His crew formed a formidable wall behind him. Martin sported a darkening bruise on his cheek and you only felt slightly bad for getting him into trouble. At least he was still alive. That was something.

You bit your lip and giggled nervously. “Hi, baby,” you said.

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked. His voice. God, you could listen to that voice recite the dictionary and you’d listen to every word.

You shifted your footing. “Nope. Never seen this man before,” you said.

“Aye, if you’re in trouble…” The man said. Martin, being the closest, lifted his gun into the man’s face. The gun was pressed to his temple and the man audibly gulped.

“Did he touch you?” Jatemme asked once more.

You looked him in the eye. “No.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jatemme said to the man. The man looked at you, but you knew better than to acknowledge his presence. You heard his friends calling for him, telling him not to be a hero, not to lose his life over some bitch.

The man backed away, keeping his eye on Martin and the shiny gun in his face. Jatemme jerked his head and you sighed, following behind him. If he was going to take you away, he was beyond angry. Maybe you actually worried him this time. That wasn’t your intention. You wanted to scare him a little, not worry him.

You waved goodbye to your friends. They shot you alarmed glances, but you told them that Jatemme never raised a hand to you. Never. He liked getting his revenge in other ways.

He opened the door for you and you climbed into the front seat. He got into the driver’s seat, peeling away from the club so fast, he probably sprayed everyone with rocks and gravel. He didn’t speak. He drove through the quiet streets, heading back towards the hotel you escaped from.

“Baby–”

Jatemme held up a hand like he didn’t want to hear it. You bit your lip. You really stepped in it now. Was it bad that you were turned on? Punishment shouldn’t be this exciting and yet, your mind raced through what he had planned. How he was going to show that he cared for you.

He pulled to the front of the hotel and tossed the valet his keys. The gun was tucked away into his jeans. Fancy events didn’t mean he had to be the one who dressed up. He did have a clean, sky blue shirt buttoned to the very top. He opened the door and let you out.

He didn’t speak while he pushed you inside, the event well and truly over by now. He didn’t speak as you rode the elevator in crushing silence and velvet flooring muffling your heels. He didn’t speak as he got out onto the twelfth floor, leading you to a suite you didn’t know he got for the night.

Once inside, you gasped. There was a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Low lighting made the room glow like looking through a piece of glass at twilight. “You did all this for me?” You asked.

“If you would have behaved yourself,” he said.

The suite was big enough to have a full living room with couches and armchairs, shiny mahogany coffee table, and a wide screen TV. Behind a set of double doors, there was a bed already turned down, waiting for you to climb in.

You pouted. Your man was so sweet sometimes, it made your heart ache. He didn’t always show this softer side. The side that liked snuggling up to trashy movies late at night, snacking in bed, and enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Enough to get his point across. You truly had worried him.

You turned to him with an apology on your lips but he was already invading your space. He grabbed your face and pulled you into a rough kiss, slanting his lips across yours as if he meant to stake a claim. Prove a point. You belonged to him. There was no way of getting out of it. No way of running.

You gripped onto him tightly. “I hate when you worry me like that,” he said.

“You promised,” you whined.

His lips returned to kissing you, looking for the zipper on your side to unzip you from the dress. When he couldn’t find it, he began to rip it with his bare hands. “Hey!”

“I’ll buy you more,” he said. His lips returned to kissing you. More like possessing you. He kissed you like he wanted to meld your bodies together to keep you by his side. This was what you needed. What you had been craving all night.

Your bra and panties went next, baring you completely to him. He wasn’t in it to admire your body right now though. You knew him. He had been worrying about you all night and needed to see you. Feel you. Make sure that you really were in front of him and not a figment of his imagination.

He turned you around and slapped your ass. You screamed out, jumping away from the sharp sting. He pushed you towards the deep gray couch and bent you over the back of it. It dug into your tummy but you were too turned on to notice the pain.

He unzipped his zipper and freed himself with a low groan, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his dick through your wet folds. Your hands feebly gripped onto the couch cushings, fingers digging into the linen.

Once his tip was good and wet, he stuffed you and you cried out from the burn of his girthy dick pushing into you. Your eyes crossed. He felt too good to contain to a single moan. You yelled out without abandon, not caring who heard you. If the neighbors complained, Jatemme would handle that too.

His strokes were bruising, punishing, near cruel as he slammed into you over and over. “You and this fucking attitude gon’ kill me,” he groaned. His fingers grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you back onto his dick. Like his strokes weren’t enough. Like you weren’t moving fast enough for him.

“Oh baby, oh fuck–I’m sorry!” You cried out.

“No, you not,” he said. No, you were not. You’d do everything all over again if he meant that his attention was back on you. That his hands were back on you. That his dick was inside you, spearing you, driving you to new pleasures each and every time.

Your feet were scrambling for purchase. He didn’t care. He fucked you like you were no more than a toy to stick his dick in. One hand reached behind you to push against his chest. His shirt slipped between you so he lifted it and brought his flesh flush with yours. Then, he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled it behind you, resting on your back while he used the new position as a new anchor. His strokes grew deeper, more desperate.

“I catch you talking to another nigga and I’ma kill him,” Jatemme whispered harshly.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned. You’d seen him kill niggas for far less. For daring to turn their neck in your direction. He once told you that if he could blind the male population of Chicago, he would.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed out, crying through your punishing orgasm.

Jatemme grunted in satisfaction. “That’s your first one for the night. I hope you’re keeping count,” he said.

“Baby, wait…” You grunted between his deep thrusts.

“Like you made me wait tonight?” He asked. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to look back at him. You stared into his eyes while he filled you up with his cum. He came with a low, grumbling moan that shook your inner walls.

Your mouth dropped open as his dick pulsed and twitched. Your legs were jelly, kept standing by pure force by him. His will to keep you spread open for him ensured that you were a vessel for his dick. His own personal fucktoy.

He made you cum two more times while your neck was craned, looking back into his soulful eyes. You ran out of curse words to shout to the heavens. Your eyes ached from the way they rolled. Your essence mixed with his spend dripped down your legs in a slow river that tickled your legs.

He finally slipped out, giving you a bit of a break. You huffed, legs shaking, arms weak. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, spreading your legs open once more. He fisted his dick, jerking the length of it while he looked at your destroyed pussy leaking with his cum.

“Hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he said with a small grin.

You panted with a nervous giggle. He proved throughout the rest of the night just how much he missed you and made you promise not to do it again. Well, at least not anytime soon.

The end.

There will be more! The Secret Jatemme Files

136 notes · View notes

slightly-smarter-nat · 2 years

Note

What about a Natasha Romanoff X female avenger!R where Natasha has constant nightmares and has a hard time falling asleep. Then one night she finds R in the compound living room watching TV or something cause R is a night owl or just hanging around, so the red head joins her. It’s going great and Nat starts to relax but then R starts giving signs of heading to bed but Nat prolongs or suggests other things to do like have tea, watch a movie, braid hair, paint nails, anything she can come up with to not let R leave her alone and having to go back to sleep in fear of the nightmares coming back. Eventually R catches on what’s happening and asks why Nat is not letting her go to sleep and the Russian confesses, feeling guilty for keeping R from going to bed. But then R suggests Nat sleep in her room, like a sleepover, and by the end feelings are confessed! Sorry for being specific!! You write Natasha so well and on point!! I always love seeing (reading) this soft side of her!!

Favourite Person || Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, mention of trauma, mentions of the Red Room, explicit language. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 5127 words.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request Anon, (I’m so sorry it’s late). To the anon that requested this fic, if you are not happy with it and would like me to re-write it, I will happily do so. I hope you all enjoy! Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

****************

Favourite Person: Natasha Romanoff-

“No, no please- just let me go!”

The somewhat delicate yet rasping sounds of pleading whimpers of desired escape fill the momentarily still bedroom belonging to that of Natasha Romanoff.

Desperate intakes of air in combination with mind numbing struggles against a dream-like battle that she fails to overcome each night she’s graced with even a substantial set of hours to sleep, plague her traumatised mind.

With one final desperate gust of air surging through her windpipe, she forces her now awakened self up from the sweat-tainted mattress that supports her body.

Glistening, tear-filled eyes frantically roam the features of the room as Natasha scans her environment for any potential intruder destined to cause harm to her.

With a soft and grounding clutch to her Anchor shaded comforter, she concludes that she’s safe for another night; and that her wicked past has once again robbed her of another night of a peaceful and yet craved slumber.

Natasha can’t help as her hands roam her heated skin, having the urge to fidget as her mind fails to come down from the relentless period of memories belonging to that of the Red Room- ones that she would be ever so quick to forget if she was given the opportunity.

Knowing any further hours designated to sleep were off the table, Natasha leans her trembling body over to her bedside table- hoping to deliver herself a well needed drink of water to not only lessen her now dry throat, but to have the calming effect needed to slow her rapidly pacing heart rate down.

Much to her dismay, as she grasps the hardened plastic cup that once held a heaped amount of water in it; she soon realises her cup is now empty.

Having had her right to drink forfeited, she releases a gentle breath of frustration, alongside a string of Russian curses at the continuous, nightly bad luck that seems to be lurking its way to her recently.

One night she hopes she can have a dreamless sleep just to gather up enough energy to carry out her duties as an Avenger, and to stop her waking mind from reliving the nightmares from the night before. Though that seems like too much to ask.

Refusing to re-enter her nightmares once more during the nightly period, she sleepily hoists her body out from between her sheets. Ensuring she gives herself a moment to steady her breathing before leaving her darkened room.

Knowing she is ready, she quickly swipes her empty cup from her bedside table and ever so quietly makes her way to her bedroom door; taking extra care when turning the doorknob to exit the room with as minimal levels of noise as possible. She’d hate herself for disturbing any of her teammates with her late night adventure to the kitchen. Just because she can’t sleep, why should they pay the price in losing sleep also?

Little does Natasha know, one teammate in particular would lose countless hours of sleep to ensure the redhead was safe and secure in any situation- especially when her haunting dreams take their toll.

As Natasha makes her way through the narrow pathways leading to her desired location; she picks up a little tune on the side of her cup, allowing her nails to tap mindlessly against the smooth surface. Hoping her mind chooses to focus on the range of movements needed to continue the repeated pattern, opposed to the horrors lingering from within.

That is until her ears pick up on muffled voices coming from the living area of the Compound.

Natasha’s entire system freezes; in her sleepy and somewhat confused state of mind, her thoughts rush to the most terrifying conclusions:

The voices could belong to Hydra members; desperate to seek and steal documents from the Avengers. It could be the Red Room, sending their final wave of untraceable Widows to finish Natasha and Yelena off, and in the process take out the Avengers.

With a vice, tight grip now on her cup, Natasha steadily allows her feet to move herself towards the noise source in a stealthy manner- attempting to gauge the seriousness of the situation and to determine how much force will be needed to deal with the potential intruders.

Natasha unknowingly releases laboured breaths, each step filling her body with a dread that she has not felt since she was a child roaming the hallways of the Red Room itself. Desperately trying to move from one room to another without being punished for stepping in the incorrect sequence or even making too much noise when she is so harshly trained to be as silent as a whisper.

As Natasha lines her back with the edge of the wall leading to the Living Area and Kitchen, she inhales a steady breath, knocking herself into her ruthless ‘Black Widow’ nature. With a hardened glare, she moves her line of sight around the corner to which her entire demeanour drops as soon as she spots the unexpected scene unfolding in front of her.

She finds you laying across the couch haphazardly as you stare at the TV screen illuminating the room in a gentle, blue hue as the muffled voices that Natasha mistakenly thought to be intruders continue- seemingly now belonging to the show that entraps your attention currently.

Natasha slowly moves closer to you, noticing more details as she approaches: like how one of your legs swings over the edging of the sofa in a careless motion as you stare at the images dancing across the screen; how you lazily place singular pieces of popcorn on your tongue in anticipation to bite down on the slightly hardened texture of the food item. Even how you carefully rest your head on your supported hand, tilting your gaze in wonderment of the information being gathered from the show of your choice.

She can’t help but stare at you in awe, finding it highly difficult to recall an instance where she has known you to be so calm and collected. Even being in your presence has removed some of the tension that had been built up in her muscles since she woke up from her nightmare.

She must admit, she’s relieved to find you of all people out here. Out of all the members of the team recently, you’ve been one of the only ones who can effortlessly put a smile on her face- something she is in desperate need of in her current state.

Having the overwhelming sense to join you, she chooses to clear her throat, snapping you out of your TV trance once you register her presence.

You quickly reach for the TV remote and eagerly press down on the mute button as you go to speak to Natasha, “Oh, hey, sorry did I wake you up?”

Natasha quickly shakes her head, “No, I just- I wanted some more water. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up so late.” Natasha silently scolds herself for her awkward stuttering for an answer. Though she knows she’s not quite ready to burden you with her night terrors, part of her feels the added weight of keeping the anxiety surrounding them in once more.

You push yourself up from the couch with a slight groan, having been in the same position for several hours straight, “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m more of a ‘night owl’ than anything so usually I watch my shows in my room but my TV is busted. Tony said he will fix it for me tomorrow so this is more of a one off.” You say as you gesture to the scene around you.

Natasha takes in your words as she draws invisible patterns on her cup, “Don’t apologise, it’s nice to have some company at this time of night.” Natasha says genuinely, usually having to face the aftermath of her nightmares alone until the more reasonable hours of the morning.

“What are you watching?” She attempts to guide the conversation forward.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Natasha to show an interest, “Oh, um Cupcake Wars.” You answer with glee.

Natasha smirks at your show choice, “Cupcake Wars? Really?” She says in a humoured manner.

You tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, “Judgment? Really?” You remark in a light manner, earning a chuckle from the Black Widow herself.

You lick your lips before you go to speak again, “You can blame Yelena for this, I wasn’t even into it until she made me watch it.”

Natasha scoffs in disbelief, never having assumed Yelena would even be into shows such as this, “Yelena? My sister? The lean, mean Mac n’ Cheese loving machine?”

You laugh at her words, knowing upon Yelena’s arrival to the Avengers she was eager to let it be known of her efficiency as a former member of the Red Room and how ambitious she can be in her line of work, but to her Sister and friends, she’s as soft as they come.

“Well yes, your sister, who I happened to be paired up with on a Recon Mission in December, decided that we needed to fulfil our ‘authentic American Christmas’, by watching the ‘Holiday Special’ of this series whilst we waited for Hydra to mess up and give us intel. Ever since then we’ve watched every episode, and we can mutually agree it’s the best decision we have ever made.” You playfully put it to Natasha, knowing she loves hearing the details of how well Yelena is settling into her new life away from the Red Room- the now secure life the two of them deserve.

Natasha beams at the information, relieved that Yelena is finding comfort within the Avengers, “Thank you for including her.” Natasha simply says, extremely grateful for your kindness, not only towards her, but to her little sister.

You smile at Natasha’s words, “Of course, it’s the same kindness you showed me when I first arrived at the Compound.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at your words, “Oh, believe me, it was a hard task being kind to you. You were feral.” Natasha attempts to tease you, knowing your first impressions of each other has been a running gag in your friendship for years.

You release an exaggerated gasp at her words, “Well, we both know I had Tony as my mentor so what did everyone expect to happen honestly?! I think I turned out pretty good considering my Avenger upbringing.” You lift yourself up to tuck one of your legs underneath yourself, seemingly becoming more engaged in the conversation through excitement of having Natasha close by.

Natasha pouts her lip and nods along to your words, “Sure, sure, we’ll let you believe that y/l/n.”

You quickly pick up a piece of popcorn to throw at Natasha, allowing your joyful laughs to fill the room.

Natasha easily catches the rogue piece of Popcorn, shoving it into her mouth for good measure, before bringing up the subject she has been dreading since she engaged in conversation with you, “I guess I had better grab my drink and leave you be. Goodnight, y/n.”

Your momentarily excited features drop slightly at Natasha’s words and loss of presence, you love being in her company. Majority of the time she’s the main source of happiness you can grasp at, with having some horrific events occur from your job, it’s refreshing having that comfort person you can call your friend- that person being Natasha.

Part of you also picks up on the depressed features of Natasha’s posture; usually present when something is on her mind or after a gruelling Mission.

You fail to anticipate your own moves when you hear Natasha returning from the Kitchen area of the Compound. Before you have time to think, your mouth opens up to release your next statement, “Hey, Nat. Would you like to watch a movie or something? This episode is nearly done and I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet.” You attempt to place the reasonings behind your question on yourself, hoping that if there is something Natasha wants to talk about, that she will feel comfortable enough to do so if she feels as though you invited her to hang out with yourself; rather than her having to ask.

Natasha stops her movements at your words, a flood of relief building up inside herself at your question. She desperately wanted to ask you herself, but the nipping feeling of guilt from intrusion of your alone time played on her mind so much so that she was too afraid to stay in your company.

As the overwhelming emotion of reassurance takes over Natasha, she chooses to nod at your question; failing to hide the string of grateful tears that line her exhausted eyes and knowing a waver in her voice would give away her fear of the night.

When Natasha moves to round the couch, she can’t help but smile at your effort to clear the perfect space for her to join you.

You instantly begin a clear down of the area, removing stray pieces of popcorn that somehow fell from your grasp during your Cupcake Wars marathon. You move to straighten up the charcoal tinted pillows; fluffing them up to mimic a comforting environment for Natasha to settle in to.

Once you look over your work and determine the couch to be satisfactory for Natasha, you dramatically wave for her to sit down. To which she does with an eye roll and a laugh.

As you reach for the TV remote and settle into your previous spot on the couch, Natasha sets her cup of water on the coffee table, waiting for you to choose the perfect movie for the two of you to watch together.

Though to her surprise, you stretch your arm out towards her, handing her the remote for control of the TV.

Natasha quirks a curious eyebrow at your gesture, “Y/n, what are you doing?”

You match her curious look at her question, “I want you to choose what we watch, Nat. Pick anything, I don’t mind.” You say with a comforting smile of reassurance.

Natasha hesitantly removes the remote from your outstretched hand, studying the array of buttons decorating it, “Are you sure? This is your time to-“

You interrupt Natasha, remembering the countless times she has been refused a choice on movie night, due to Tony’s unfair system of choosing the designated movie of the night- somehow it always ends up being one of his favourites…

“Natasha, I am more than positive that I want you to choose. Plus, this is our shared time to hang out, pick anything you would like.”

Natasha stares at you for a moment longer, attempting to detect a hint of change in your answer. When she realises you’re serious in your offer, she uses the the button to scroll through endless amounts of movie titles that all blend into a colourful blur after a minute or two.

That is until her eyes land on one of her comfort movies- Moonraker.

She allows the remote’s cursor to hover over the poster assigned to the James Bond movie on the list available, determining her options on how to approach asking you if this was an acceptable choice.

You soon notice the longing of the highlighted movie choice on the screen and the conflicted features crossing Natasha’s face as she has her own mental battle.

You turn yourself to gather Natasha’s attention, “Hey, is this the movie you want to watch?” You gently ask, trying not to push her in any way.

Natasha fidgets with the remote in her hands as she ponders a response, “Yeah, it’s a comfort movie. Is that okay?” She asks you calculatedly, worried you’ll reject the idea.

You reach over the back of the couch for a blanket left behind from a previous movie night, styling it out to cover yourself, “Of course it is, I’d love to watch it with you Natasha. Put it on,” You say as you tap the open space next you, alongside a lift of the blanket, intended to cover Natasha with.

Natasha wastes no time in pressing play to start the movie as she slides across the couch and into your embrace. What may seem as a small gesture to you, is a relieving gesture for Natasha.

Not only have you granted her the comfort of her go to movie of all time, but embracing her in a warm manner heightens the idea of Natasha being truly safe within the Compound.

As the two of you snuggle into the couch in anticipation of watching the movie; all the previous, dark thoughts from earlier in the night have evaded Natasha’s mind completely.

Hopefully it remains that way.

——-

Just as the final scene of the movie commences; the end credits begin to roll out on the screen, signifying the end of the action-packed sequence.

Natasha continues to watch the screen in a dazed state, happily losing herself within the familiar scenes of Moonraker.

However, she comes back to her senses once she feels you stretch your body out from beneath her, having cuddled up to you closer and closer as the movie has played.

You quickly finish stretching your arms and legs out, you take a moment to glance at your watch and release a low whistle at the time illuminating your watch face, “Wow, 4 am already? Shit, sorry Nat, I didn’t mean to keep you up so long.” You start to push yourself up from the cushioned layer of the couch, signalling for Natasha to move up also.

As she discards the blanket aside, a wave of uneasiness settles within her. She doesn’t want to go back to bed now, she dreads to think of what horrors await her in her dreams once she closes her eyes again. She was beginning to feel safe in your company, but now you’re readying yourself to go to bed, she’s terrified that you’ll leave her alone with her thoughts.

With her endless thoughts of torment, she stares at the now blank TV in thought. You notice her vacant expression, allowing you to kneel down in front of her and gently place your hands on her knees.

Natasha jumps slightly at your touch, however she soon places her hands on top of yours to signal that your comforting efforts are welcome, “Natasha, are you ready to head back to bed?” You ask cautiously, remaining ignorant to the issue at hand.

Natasha rubs her soft hands across the delicate skin of yours as she goes to speak, “You know, we’ve still got a bit of time to hang out before the others get up. We could try some of that new tea brand Tony bought as a trial for the Team; we could watch another movie, there’s plenty of James Bond movies for you to catch up on-“

Your eyes scan Natasha’s face as she rambles out endless ways in which the two of you should stay up for a little bit longer, “Natasha-“

Natasha shakes her head as she continues her plea, desperate for you to agree with her and stay up, “Oh, I could show you how to do those Dutch braids you like in your hair. You’re always saying how much you want to learn-“

“Natasha!”

The raise in your voice throws Natasha out of her rant, unwillingly sending a pang of fear into her chest.

As you recognise the disheartening features spreading across Natasha’s persona, you make an effort to rub reassuring circles on her arms, encouraging her to relax, “What’s going on? Why are you so adamant for us to stay up?”

Natasha fails to conceal the tears that line her eyes once again, frustration making itself known, “I can’t tell you, you’ll think I’m being ridiculous.” She whispers out, not caring that you’re seeing her in what she’d consider a weakened state.

You move to sit next to her closely, wrapping a protective arm around her, “Natasha, I could never think you’re ridiculous. You’re the strongest person I know, and if something is upsetting you this much- to the point where you don’t want me to go to bed, then I want to do everything in my power to help you. I promise you, I won’t judge you, I just want to help.”

Natasha allows her tears of despair to run down her face as she looks at you, understanding the sincerity of your words. She chooses to confide in you, “Ever since I could remember, I’ve had the most horrific dreams from my time in the Red Room, and even from certain Missions. They feel so real, I hear the pain from past victims of my actions; the drilling voices of those who kept me in the Red Room and made me what I am today-“

You give Natasha the room to talk, hating the fact you didn’t pick up on her suffering sooner- though this is Natasha Romanoff, when she wants to hide something, she does so without a trace.

“Usually when I wake up, everyone else is asleep so I just wait until someone else wakes up and pretend I got up early to train or something. No one ever notices, I hide it well, just like I’ve been taught to all these years. Then tonight, you were here, and I just felt safe and secure, you just know how to make me feel calm and appreciated. I’m sorry for putting this on you y/n, I just wanted to feel safe.”

You turn away briefly from Natasha to hide your own tears upon hearing her pain, with one deep breath you move to rest your forehead on top of Natasha’s fiery red locks, “Natasha, you’re not putting anything on me okay. I mean it when I say I want to do everything in my power to make you feel safe. I understand why you wanted to stay up longer, but do you think if we go to bed in my room or something, you might feel safe enough to sleep?”

Natasha slowly lifts her head up from under yours to catch your gaze, “You’d do that for me?”

You instantly nod, “Of course I will, I’ll do anything for you Natasha.”

Natasha bites her lip at your words, never having believed she could be so lucky to have someone like you in her life, “Thank you y/n. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

You pick yourself up from the couch and hold a supportive hand out to Natasha, which she gladly takes. Once you have switched all the necessary devices off in the living area and kitchen, you guide Natasha to your bedroom, “I think I do, but you’re still going to teach me how to braid my hair right?” You question Natasha, earning a light chuckle from her.

“I suppose I can look over my very busy schedule and fit you in somewhere.” Natasha lets out, allowing the anxieties of the night to vacate her mind.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of room in your schedule for your favourite person.” You reply, mindlessly following the corridors to your designated area of the compound.

Once you arrive at your door, Natasha raises a tired yet questioning brow, “Who said you were my favourite?”

You give her a light shrug, “I just know you can’t argue with logic.”

Natasha smirks as she moves into your room, noticing the minor details scattered across the area that makes the room entirely yours, once you move to switch your bedside lamp on to highlight the features more.

Natasha stands in the middle of the room, hesitant to move anywhere without your word.

You make quick work of straightening out your bed for Natasha; hiding any loose items that are long overdue their clean up as you refuse to admit the last time your room had a good clean out.

“Okay, the bed is ready for you. I’ll take the couch-“

Natasha frowns at your words, “We’re not sharing?”

You stop your actions as you attempt to make the couch into a makeshift bed for the night, “I don’t mind taking the couch honestly, it’s… comfy.” You say in an unconvincing tone, earning an eye roll from Natasha.

“Come on, we can share the bed, I don’t bite.” Natasha says as she eagerly settles into your soft and comforting sheets.

You silently release a breath of relief, having saved your back from a rough night of sleep on the outdated couch lumbered in your room.

Once you switch off your light, you easily slide into the other side of the bed, next to Natasha. Allowing your body to relax itself into your heavenly, cushioned mattress.

Assuming the sudden silence was reserved for sleeping, you close your eyes and bask in your comforting surroundings. Until a voice fills the hushed atmosphere, “Are you still awake?”

You release a relaxed breath as you go to reply, “Yeah, are you?”

Natasha releases a laugh from beside you, “Who do you think asked you doofus.” Natasha teases.

You roll on your side to face Natasha, using the minor elements of moonlight seeping through your blinds to study Natasha’s magnificent features, “Well J.A.R.V.I.S is quite the conversationalist at night, so pardon me for being curious to whom I am addressing Romanoff.” You say in the most serious tone you can muster- extremely low severity.

Natasha smiles brightly at your lightheartedness, “Sometimes I do wonder about you y/l/n.”

You tilt your head in challenge at Natasha’s words, “Oh yeah? What do you wonder about Nat?”

Natasha’s features fall into a stoic nature as she thinks of what to say, “I wonder how someone as loving and caring as you, would willingly want to hang around with someone like me?”

Your body shifts in discomfort at her words, sensing a tone of insecurity, “Someone like you? That’s not a bad thing Natasha.”

Natasha nods at your words, “It is, y/n, I know how people see me. Some ruthless monster who’s only worth is that of being a product of the Red Room. An assassin, produced to kill without fear or hesitation-“

You abruptly push yourself up to study Natasha in disbelief, “Natasha, that’s your nightmares talking. The Natasha I know, the real Natasha is so kind, considerate and incredible. You never fail to care for those around you. Hell, I bet you’ve saved more lives being an Avenger, than lives you were forced to take under the Red Room. Natasha you’re worth so much more than a brand under the Red Room.”

Natasha looks away from you as you continue your truths, having only her nightmares confirm her greatest fears.

“Natasha, you do realise none of the past was your fault. The Red Room took you, melted your mind and melded it into something cruel. It wasn’t your fault they did that to you and it certainly isn’t your fault that they controlled you to a point where you weren’t even of a conscious mind to understand the consequences of the actions they ordered you to do.”

You gently cup Natasha’s face and instantly swipe away a pained tear escaping her eye, “You’re not a monster, you’re a hero- my hero. Nat, you inspire me to be the best Avenger I can be. You inspire so many people around the world to protect others and do what is right. If I ever hear anyone saying anything different, I’ll kick their ass.” You add for good measure, earning a dry chuckle from Natasha.

“You’re not part of the Red Room, you’re Natasha Romanoff- Avenger, Hero and quite honestly the best thing this Planet has ever given us-“

Your words of wisdom are cut off once Natasha attaches her lips to yours, fulfilling every ounce of gratitude into one delicate and addictive kiss.

As Natasha slowly pulls away, she can’t help but bite her lip in amusement at your dazed features, “You can breathe you know y/n.”

You blink extremely slowly as your mind is sent into a frenzy of pure happiness, “Um, what were we talking about?” You suddenly ask, not knowing what else to do under the current circumstances.

Natasha pulls you down onto the bed as she moves to rest her head on your chest- its rightful space, “I’m pretty sure we were talking about how you’re my favourite person?” Natasha playfully adds.

You nod along as you pull Natasha closer towards you, “Hmm, that does sound accurate.”

With a quick mumble of ‘dork’ from Natasha, the two of you settle down for a night of slumber. Finding safety and security in each other’s arms.

——-

Soft, delicate finger tipped brushes against your rib cage wake you up from your relaxed slumber.

As your eyes flutter open, they meet ethereal green irises as they study your sleepy state.

Natasha leans up to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, allowing you to release a sigh of content at the comforting gesture, “Good morning, y/n/n.”

You sleepily smile at the sound of Natasha’s raspy voice, never failing to have your heart fluttering in excitement, “Good morning Nat, how did you sleep?” You nervously ask, hoping with every ounce of your being that she was able to rest after her nightmares.

Natasha initially responds with a glamorous smile, allowing you to replicate it to the same effect, “That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in over ten years.” She giddily lets out.

You pull her into your embrace, “No nightmares?”

Natasha nods to confirm, “No nightmares.”

You place an ecstatic kiss on the crown of her head, over the moon with the possibility that Natasha may be able to escape her nightmares.

“You know, maybe we should make this sleepover thing a permanent thing?” You ask sleepily.

Natasha hums at your words, “Well, I don’t see why not. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

You laugh at Natasha's choice of comfort, “What about the person you’re currently cuddling?”

Natasha shrugs lightly, “I suppose they’re okay, the cuddles are a bonus.”

You smile at her words, “Well maybe I’ll have to deduct the cuddle clause from the agreement.”

Natasha tightens her grip on your body impossibly tight, “Try it and you’ll see why they say my Widow Bite Stings pack a nasty punch.”

“Oh well, we wouldn’t want to test that out.”

“Nope.” Natasha replies as she settles back into your embrace.

You allow a few seconds to pass before you bring up your next question, “What if-“

“No.” Natasha says with a flick of her fingers delivered to your forehead, eager to have you sleep in a little bit longer.

It’s safe to say that Natasha Romanoff is most definitely your favourite person.

—————————

Taglist: @beefromanoff

#natasha romanoff #marvel #mcu #black widow #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fan fic #slightly smarter nat’s writing #slightly smarter nat #slightly smarter nat’s requests #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x reader #anon request #black widow x reader #avenger reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic

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faithforgottens · 1 year

Text

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆.

from the writer’s desk: i’d tell you i started this a year ago after deciding i needed closure on post - crying on newport beach about how i’m incapable of being loved but that would mean me unloading all over the dash, and nobody needs that. i’m just a girl, out here projecting like tomorrow’s not coming, and thought i’d share. please know that i love carol, i just had to pick a character that i didn’t have strong emotional attachment to in order to play my villain. motivation to continue this would be much appreciated, thnx. summary: you’ve been stuck in carol’s web for nearly four months now, and you need a distraction before you go postal and commit a capital crime or worse, tell her you love her. fortunately for you, natasha’s willing to offer her services. contains: college!natasha x female reader —— warnings include toxic relationship dynamics that involve infidelity, gaslighting and cheating, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, nsfw content [ fingering, dirty talk ]. → inbox status: OPEN don’t repost my works anywhere.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 am i gonna see you tonight?

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 :(

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 hellllllooooooooooo??

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 I WANNA SEE U I MISS UR PRETTY FACE

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 pls come tonight. it would mean everything to me

You’ve never claimed to be smart.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you have to fall on the opposite end of that spectrum in order to bother showing your face tonight at the behest of Carol fuckin’ Danvers. Satan. It’s the work of the goddamn devil pulling you from the clutches of your apartment’s comfortable silence where you’d be much better off riding through the nuanced gut-punching waves of disappointing Carol guilt instead of the hell storm that is being played once again by Carol guilt. You even put on eyeliner for such an occasion, because if you’re going to get fucked over (either physically, emotionally, or both), you might as well look good doing it.

Her name’s still lighting up your phone as the Uber drops you off at the curb, boasting a flood of pictures on Snapchat that illuminate the awaiting scene inside of the frat house through blurry streaks of glass bottles and marijuana smoke and the pale expanse of her neck where a glint of her gold necklace flashes is promised to you to do as you wish, leaving behind bruises or lip prints. It’s an enticing picture painted for you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think maybe tonight will be the night she tells you she’s free from the clutches of Maria, her perfectly sane girlfriend that you’ve only ever known through Carol’s jilted lens, and that she’ll even let you climb her like a tree in front of her friends.

Lucky you.

Except you do know better. In the pit of your stomach, you know the reality is that you are in closer proximity than Maria, which therefore makes you the most convenient piece of ass at Carol’s disposal, that Carol believes — and is likely right about how — you’re still wound tight enough around her finger to make you drop to your knees like a good little girl, blinded by her golden halo of hair and the whiskey-soaked taste of her lips and ready to excuse her shit treatment of you. That even feeling like you have her for the beat of a butterfly’s wings is worth your sanity. And despite it all, it isn’t enough to keep you away. It’s not enough to exile the parts of a masochistic heart beating in your chest that somehow loves her, even if the only part of you she loves is your willingness to show up for her.

Carol’s fraternity is co-ed, which means that between all of the brothers, their social circle extends to the farthest corners of the university — they consume a fair bit of your own, considering you have at least two classes a semester with Bucky, sit with them at Wanda’s softball games (mostly so you can talk shit about your high school ex that made the team), and rent study rooms at least once a month with Thor, Bruce, and Val to spiral into late night insanity while you all contemplate the meaning of life and attempt to memorize vocabulary words. You slip in through the door, bass thudding into your molars and the heavy blanket of smoke and sweat covers your bare shoulders as you weave your way through the house.

“Look who finally showed up!” Behind the counter in the kitchen is Sam Wilson, running position as makeshift bartender. You detour long enough for a vodka and Diet Coke, stopping next to the barstool that Bucky’s perched on. He tucks you underneath his arm for a side hug, other hand tipping his own solo cup back as he tries to drain the last bit of liquor down his throat.

They’re good friends to you. It’s why you hate doing this dance with Satan — because at some point, you feel that there’s going to be a tectonic shift between the two of you that dredges up a rift in the concrete and you don’t know who will be left on your side. You don’t know who you’ll be able to look in the eye and lie to about Carol, who would pick you over her. You don’t even know if any of them would believe you or would write you off as crazy as you’ve been writing yourself off as of late.

You tell yourself that you’re trying, goddammit, to shove that piece of yourself back into a locked drawer and enjoy the company of your friends.

“Anybody seen Danvers?” you pitch as nonchalantly as you know how, planting your elbows down onto the granite of the counter while you watch Sam mix your drink. He goes heavy on the vodka, which you quietly appreciate.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, we’ve seen her alright.”

“She’s in the dining room trying to rally everyone into a round of strip beer pong,” Sam explains. “Last we saw, she got her shirt stuck in the chandelier.”

“The face of class, this fraternity,” you tease as Sam hands you your drink. He can’t help but laugh, a jovial, guttural noise that makes you smile, even though your stomach is currently in your throat.

You bid them farewell and snake through the living room, trying to avoid the furniture or the bodies of other people and almost always fail in avoiding both at the same time as you carve out a path to the dining room. It’s densely packed, which forebodes the game of beer pong that the boys mentioned. You try not to cut your elbows into the bones and flesh of others to make your way through, but your adrenaline is humming at the thought of seeing Carol, the thought of her body glowing in the house lights and the cut of her physique out on display for anyone, including you, to openly ogle without abandon.

“Goddamn, Danvers!” someone yells mirthfully. “Keep it in your pants!”

Whistling down to one thought, one track, your mind lasers in and you’re positive that the sharp point of your elbow nails T’Challa directly in the ribs as you finally make it to the inner lip of the circle around the dining room table. It’s desperate. You know it’s desperate. You'll care about it later, you’re sure, but for now, all that’s on your mind is her.

“For the love of fuck, I—” Someone stumbles back into you, dark hair in frizzy waves and the bill of their baseball cap nearly jabbing straight into your nose. Wanda Maximoff spins around, her eyes lightening up at the sight of you as she grabs onto your wrist to stable herself. “Oh! Hey, babe,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either,” you tell her, trying not to be blatant as you scan for Carol. “Carol didn’t tell me until last minute.”

“Boo,” Wanda pouts, before turning to yell over her shoulder, “Danvers! Fuck you!”

“Get in line!” Carol calls back, and your head locks in on where her voice comes from. Your stomach plunges into free fall when you see her: as promised, she’s standing around in her sports bra and jeans, white teeth glinting and blonde hair curling around onto her tanned shoulders, biceps on display and her arms snaked around — her.

Maria Hill, in the flesh, pressed against Carol’s side and her chin balanced on Carol’s shoulder as Carol makes a shot one-handed that successfully lands in a cup on the opposite end of the table. Carol cheers victoriously, and Maria kisses her cheek, and you notice that Carol’s hand on Maria’s side drifts down towards her ass.

All of Carol’s messages swim inside your mind, the ones where she assures you that it’s all real, that she and Hill are done, that Hill’s holding her back, that she’s felt things for you since the moment she laid eyes on you and just knew; the ones where she paints a beautiful picture of a future with you, the same picture she’s just doused in cheap spirits and ruined for the dozenth time. Your drink suddenly tastes like arsenic, heavy and uneven in your stomach, the room shrinking and heat crawling up your neck in an uncomfortable panic. You are going to be sick.

Wanda’s voice comes through in the midst of the ringing in your ears. Fuck you, Danvers.

It takes you a moment to realize that Wanda’s voice isn’t just a reverberation inside your mind, but is right in your ear. “Hey!” She calls your name again, and you finally snap your attention back to her. She scans over your face for a moment, eyebrows folding in the center of her brow. “You alright? Where’d you just go?”

The shock is fresh on your face, salt water from the crashing wave that’s irritating your eyes — you refuse to let yourself cry, here in front of everyone, because all that’s going to do is open the door to a conversation you don’t want to have, incite a fight with Carol that you’ll surely lose, leave you feeling even lower than you do at the moment. You shake your head, trying to shake whatever emotions that aren’t nonchalant off of your face. “Noth—nowhere,” you stammer, voice an octave higher than usual. Wanda’s perplexity only deepens. “More crowded than I thought. Got beer-splashed.”

Wanda breaks into a smile, seemingly buying your excuse. “C’mon, what’d you expect?” she ribs. It’s a loaded question, and if Wanda wasn’t Wanda, you’re sure it’d be enough to light your rapidly shorting fuse. The thin strain in your falsified smile must give something away, because she softens the slightest bit and wraps her arm around yours. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll kick your ass sideways in pool.”

You appreciatively take Wanda’s out, allowing her to guide you away from the Carol show and the crowd of people you have steeled yourself in order to not cry in front of and head with her towards the basement, which the frat has renovated into a lounge space with a giant television, sectional that is infamous for its hosting of The Threesome, and the pool table. It hasn’t garnered quite the same audience that the beer pong game has, but less people means you feel slightly less suffocated. Carol’s still got her foot on your throat, but down here, it’s easier to maneuver and act as though you haven’t just had yourself made a fool in front of everyone without them knowing.

Relieved for the little things, like elbow room, you sit down on the arm of the sectional and take a long drink from your cup — if you’re going to survive the rest of the night without your tail tucking between your legs (and you’re determined to further your self-sabotage by going the extra mile to ensure Carol knows she fucked up, even though it’s likely she doesn’t care) you’ll have to be drunker than this. Wanda adjusts her hat on her head and picks up a pool cue, glancing back over her shoulder at you. “Want someone to show you how it’s done?” she teases.

You lift your cup in acknowledgment, smile shedding off of your lips. “Go for it.”

As Wanda weasels her way into the current game of pool, you do a quick intake of who all’s downstairs. There’s a few of the brothers, a few of the brother’s dates, people that are otherwise background characters designed to make campus seem at capacity but not so many people that no one would notice if you threw up in the corner or worse, started crying. You purse your lips around the rim of your solo cup, scanning the company around the pool table. Wanda sidles up next to another one of her brothers, poking her with the pool cue. “Nat!” Wanda whines. “Give me room.”

Natasha Romanoff shuffles out of the way with the roll of her eyes. “Poke me with the stick again and it’s gonna go somewhere less than ideal.”

Wanda flicks her middle finger upright before hunching around the shape of the pool cue. “You don’t scare me, Natty.”

“Your funeral.”

Your eyes follow Natasha out of the way, and she feels their weight because the next thing you know, you’re off the cliffs and deep somewhere inside the greenery of her eyes. They’re pretty eyes, you idly note, and you find yourself mulling over Natasha Romanoff, as a person, as a concept, as Natasha. She’s the oldest of the girls in the fraternity, a senior to your junior, and she’s been around for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t there. It’s hard to imagine a room without her in it, a constant fixture on the mantel that you don’t even bother acknowledging it anymore.

She cocks an eyebrow at you after what’s sure to be a long moment of staring, and Wanda, who is unfortunately more observant than you’d like to believe, begins laughing. “Am I interrupting this little staring contest?”

Natasha smirks. “I could win a staring contest and kick your ass at the same time, Maximoff.”

“Show off,” Wanda grumbles as she passes the pool cue over to Natasha. She then looks at you, and whatever grumpiness dissipates, her shit-eating grin returning. “Now, you on the other hand,” she preludes with a gesture towards you. “There’s no way.”

You drain the rest of your drink and discard the cup off to the side. "You talk a lot, Wan,” you inform her as you walk up to the side of the pool table. Wanda just grins as you turn to Natasha, gesturing for the pool cue. “Let me have a go.”

Natasha acquiesces and passes you the pool cue, giving you the space you need coupled with a low nod of encouragement. There are a few clusters of balls around the table and you’re trying to eye up a shot that’ll give you not only a handful of points, but will get Wanda off your back — even if you are grateful for the timing of her diversions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough; you can still hear the laughter and music through the walls from upstairs, a raucous noise that scatters your train of thought. Is it Carol? What’s she doing? What’s she whispering into Hill’s ear? Does she know you’re even here? Does she care?

Probably not.

You take the shot without thinking, balls ricocheting off the sides of the pool table. Wanda barks out a laugh. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Just getting warmed up,” you say stiffly, handing the pool cue off.

Wanda’s face is alight with amusement, nodding slowly as she moves around the pool table for her next shot. “Okay.”

You’re too far in your head, and you know it. You’re content to linger on the outskirts of the game while everyone else that Wanda goes about recruiting takes their turn. It’s a few minutes or an hour before the cue ends up back in your hand, like a rickety sort of clockwork that is unexpected but also entirely predictable. You assess the situation and find a decent enough angle now that the game has progressed, significantly so.

You bend over slightly, eyes fixed on a blue ten that’s not too far from the cue. Before you can make the shot, you hear someone behind you muttering. “Do it like this.”

When you glance over your shoulder, it’s Natasha, only a few inches from where you stand, hands hesitating before she reaches out. “Back up,” she guides, her hands stationing on your hips and forcing you to take a half-shuffle of a step backwards. “And lift your elbow like this.” You’re clay and she shapes you how she wishes, her touch feather light. “Okay. Now try.”

You do exactly as she says, pool cue shooting from your hand and colliding with the cue ball. The ten you’ve had your eyes on sails into the pocket without any interference.

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” Natasha says, her voice ghosting along the back of your spine. As you straighten up, you glance behind you, noticing the faint grin along the curve of her lips.

“Well that wasn’t sexual at all,” Wanda comments with a low whistle as the pool cue returns to her grip. “Do losers get laid still? I wouldn’t know.” With a toothy flash of a grin, she draws the cue back and makes another shot — you’re not entirely focused on her efforts, thanks to the gravity of Natasha’s sights still pressing deep into your skin.

Wanda talks a big enough game that she recruits nearly everyone standing around the pool shot to give it a go, which provides a window of opportunity for Natasha to brush a hand along your shoulder and steal you away. “Up for a smoke?” she asks, and you nod. You allow her to lead the way out through the basement’s French doors, slipping outside into the backyard where the sky is dotted with stars, the air smells only the slightest bit cleaner, and the music is nothing but a dull pulse from inside the house.

Natasha steers you away from the patio where other fraternity brothers and their guests are sitting around, enjoying their drinks and laughing amongst their idle, stoned conversations around the fire pit. You follow her into the grass, trailing around the side of the house until the two of you don’t have any other company aside from each other and Thor’s knockout rose bushes that he takes great pride in.

She leans up against the wall, hands fishing in the pocket of her jacket for her lighter. For someone who’s devoted the rest of their evening to shooting metaphorical (or even literal) middle fingers in Carol’s direction, you’re still too far on edge to be nonchalant about any of it. The quiet is all consuming, maddening inside of your buzzing mind. Natasha produces a joint, embers burning on the end as she lights it and brings it up to her lips. You’re left to watch as she takes a long, casual drag, a cloud of smoke billowing from her lips on the exhale. Her wrist then extends, offering the joint up; if there is such a thing as too eager, you’d be the poster child for it, the way you pluck it from her fingers and take a hit.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice a low drag of gravel against the muted bass thud inside of the house. You open an eye and glance over at her, her green eyes burning holes through you as she watches.

“Eh,” you mutter half-heartedly with a shrug. “Not worth it.”

You pass the joint back to her after you take one more drag, your eyes fixed on the steady stream of smoke that you forcibly control the exit from your mouth. It’s nice to have control over something, you think, even if it is, to some degree, just seeing how long you can hold your breath.

“Seems like you could use a distraction,” Natasha comments, fingers idly rolling the joint between her fingers as smoke still curls from the tip.

You laugh, a low and guttural noise that’s passive at best. “Yeah, probably.”

Natasha turns so her entire body is facing you, and it doesn’t register, the way that she’s looking at you, until you feel her brush your hair off of your face. Your eyes fully open, somewhat surprised by the action, watching her carefully. Natasha’s a lot of things, but gentle isn’t one you’d readily associate with her. It’s almost like she’s handling you like glass, waiting for the right moment to shatter you. It’s a hiccup in your chest, a strange feeling washing over your body.

“Let me distract you, then.” She says it simply, like it’s the most logical conclusion to arrive at.

“Nat, what...”

“C’mere.” One of her hands encircles your wrist, guiding you closer. You follow wordlessly in her guidance, unsure of what she’s doing or what’s to come. She takes another hit of the joint, her eyes glowing the same way the end of the joint does, a low burning fire that seems to grow hotter the longer your eyes are connected.

The hand holding your wrist slides up your body until she’s cupping your jaw, her thumb darting across the expanse of your face to swipe across your lips in a prompt to open them. She lowers the joint, bringing her face inches away from your own as her mouth forms a perfect circle and releases smoke. You’ve shotgunned weed before, but never at such a close proximity. Natasha breathes out and you breathe in, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of the moment.

“Gonna let me distract you some more?” she whispers, and you barely register yourself nodding before her lips capture your own. Her mouth is plush and soft but nothing about her is gentle anymore — this is where she forces a spiderwebbing crack across your surface, the deft way in which she manipulates your lips to do exactly as she’d like, her tongue skating across the skin and opening your mouth to allow her access. You can’t help but to sigh into the kiss. She is exactly what she claims she is: a distraction, a welcome reprieve, and the golden halo around Carol’s head seems fuzzy and jilted now.

Natasha kisses you like she’s trying to set you on fire; at some point she has absconded the joint and ground out its remnants into the mulch, both her hands cupping your face as she boxes you in with her legs and adjusts the two of you so your back is now flush against the wall. “How’s this?” she murmurs against your ear, lips starting a descent down your neck that is feather light and the gentle scrape of her teeth.

“Very... very distracting,” you stammer out, fingers curling into fiery red hair.

“Good,” Natasha hums, her mouth vibrating over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone that causes your grip in her hair to tighten. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so far in your head.”

You nod, thankful for the reward of her body pressing against yours.

“What d’you say?” Her voice ghosts over your skin, and for a moment, you’re not sure what it is she’s asking. It takes a moment, the weed and the liquor clouding your mind, but the dig of Natasha’s blunt fingernails into your hips and the graze of her teeth along your skin serves as motivation. “Huh? What d’you say, princess?”

“Thank you,” you gasp, the feeling of her mouth tightening around your skin wet and hot sending a glimmer of electricity down your spinal cord. Natasha chuckles, a dark and melodic noise that buzzes through your body.

“You’re welcome,” she croons. “’S that all you needed? Or do you need more?”

More. It’s the knee jerk response you have, the way your world has narrowed down to just her and the scent of her heady perfume and each individual curve of muscle is now flush against you. Your eyes open only to see Natasha grinning like she’s the fuckin’ devil.

Maybe you were misplaced somehow.

Natasha’s hands drag over your sides, up and down roughly as she kisses you and forces your legs farther apart so she’s able to snake one of her thighs in between them. She rucks your top up on the edges, fingers brushing over your skin in a delightful contrast to the cool evening air. Natasha is hot, her touch burning and singeing the skin wherever it moves. She’s painting you out of ashes and making you into something beautiful, something uniquely her own. Her hands slip underneath your shirt and you feel one hand trail upwards, fingers wrapping around your breast before squeezing. It elicits another tiny moan from you, which Natasha swallows down with a kiss. “Shh,” she hisses against your lips. “Be quiet.”

You arch into her touch as her fingers slip beneath the cup of your bra and pinch your nipple tight, another squeak of pleasure groaned into her mouth. It only encourages her further, the other hand of hers moving in the opposite direction. “Want me to touch you?” she whispers in your ear while you press your mouth into her shoulder, breath warm against your ear and her teeth just barely missing your earlobe. “Bet you’re not distracted now; only thing you and that pussy are thinking about is me, huh?”

“Fuck, Nat,” you mumble into her skin.

“Yeah you are,” she replies with a shit eating grin, your head tilting back until it roughly meets the back of the wall as her hand goes up your skirt.

You’d been meticulous prior to coming over, thinking on whatever lone star trailing in the sky that you’d be seducing Carol tonight; you’d purposefully worn your skimpiest pair of underwear just to show her what she could have if she was with you. It’s only when you see the look on Natasha’s face, the way her pupils dilate and her jaw slackens the slightest bit as her fingers skim in between the folds of your thigh and vulva and feels lace that you feel something resembling satisfaction. “You came ready for a distraction, princess,” she grumbles, moving your underwear to the side and swiping her fingers through what is now sheer want dripping from you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“N... Nat,” you whine, squirming around in the pursuit of pressure. “Touch me.”

She places the tip of her finger at your entrance, just barely teasing it in. “Ask nicely, honey.”

The words spill from your lips without thought. “Please, Nat, please touch me, fuck m—” She cuts you off as she slips her finger inside of you and you all but rocket up the side of the wall at the feeling. Her free hand, still underneath your shirt, wrestles out from beneath the fabric and is slapped over your mouth to muffle whatever noise you make.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” she says between her gritted teeth. “Here.” She presses her index and middle fingers against your lips and you acquiesce, opening them wide enough to allow them to slip in. “Suck.”

You do as you’re told, happy to oblige as she begins to finger you. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way she fucks you; she adds another finger and finds a steady rhythm, curling each time she’s knuckle deep inside of you just so she can be rewarded with you humming around the fingers in your mouth. It amuses her to some extent, the way her eyes have darkened and her mouth is slightly agape. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and considering how tight you are wound, you’re not going to last long.

"Clench around me, pretty girl,” she hisses amongst the other litany of dirty things she’s whispering in your ear. “Such a sweet pussy, does whatever I ask it to; what if I want this pussy all to myself? You gonna let me have it?”

You nod, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your mouth before she hauls you in for the filthiest kiss of your life. “Fuck,” you whimper against her lips. “Yours, Nat, your pussy.”

“Yeah, I know. This is my pussy now, all tight and hot and wet and desperate just for me. This was what you needed, wasn’t it? Needed me to fuck you silly until you forget how to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Please, Nat, gonna...”

“What?” she teases, her thumb flicking across your clit and you know that she’s doomed you, mind and body barreling down a track that there is no return from. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“Gonna come,” you manage to get out, and she fucking laughs.

“‘S right,” she agrees. “Gonna make this little pussy come all over my fingers, since I’m the only one who can. That right?” You nod; her fingers tighten in your hair and pull your head back so your neck is exposed for her. “C’mon, baby, wanna see you make a mess on my hand. Come for me like a good little slut. You know you want to.” You do, you do, and everything is bordering on the edge of too much the way Natasha is sucking your neck and rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Show me who’s pussy this is. Come.”

Another few thrusts and flicks of your clit and you are gone, Natasha bringing her mouth back to yours to swallow the keens and cries of you hitting your climax. The brick wall underneath you scratches at your shirt but it is a heavenly feeling, losing control underneath Natasha. She just smiles when she pulls away and you slump into her, perfectly sated.

“That was hot,” she says with a wicked grin, pulling her fingers out of you. She doesn’t break eye contact as she brings them up to her lips, sucking your taste off of them. Her eyes alight with pleasure, a contented hum reverberating from her vocal cords. “Thanks, pretty girl.”

Beat that, Danvers.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #carlie writes things #writing: fics #i am a fan of wanda starting shit tysm #let wanda be the villain if she wants!!!! <3 #i have played pool exactly 0 times before so leave me alone

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thornsnvultures · 2 years

Text

natasha romanoff x f!reader 18+

1.8k words, domestic fluff, smut, oral, top!reader, breast worship, pussy slapping, tw food mention, tw scars

You're vegged out on the couch in the living room when Natasha comes home. She's not surprised to see you there, work's been kicking your ass lately and you've taken to disassociating to the sounds of Great British Bake Off as stress relief.

"I'm home!"

"Howdy."

She chuckles and shakes her head at your lackluster greeting. "I picked up garlic bread from the store, thought we could do pasta tonight."

"Sounds good."

Nat preheats the oven and walks over to where you're sprawled out, garlic bread still in hand. You're in just an over-sized tshirt and sleep shorts, long legs exposed and begging to be touched.

She pokes your leg with the bagged bread instead. "You alright, sunshine?"

"Hmm?" It takes a second for you to register what she's asking and you have the decency to look sheepish when it does. "Sorry, Nat, it was a rough one today." You sit up and crawl up the couch until you're face to face with her. She cups your cheek, her worried eyes take in the bags under yours. Your stupid boss has been working you too hard, pushing you to exhaustion and Natasha doesn't like it one bit. If she had it her way she would've had a less than cordial meeting with the old creep by now, made it known you were dating a deadly assassin and weren't to be fucked with. But you refused, you said you could handle it.

"Don't apologize for having a bad day, angel."

"Yeah, but you're out there kicking ass and saving people and I'm, what, sad that I have to sit in a meeting for an hour longer than I wanted to?"

You pout into your lover's hand, and let your eyes drift shut. Nat coos at her sweet, tired angel, pulling you close so she can press a kiss to your forehead.

"Just because you didn't maim anyone today doesn't mean you didn't have a hard day."

You giggle and wrap your arms around her trim waist. "How do you know I didn't maim anyone? I have great maim potential sitting just under the surface, ready to strike."

Nat leans back to look at you and cackles. "Sure ya do, killer."

You pout even harder now as your girlfriend wiggles out of your grasp and heads back to the kitchen to start dinner. It's late for both of you, but a routine that neither of you can skip. Eating together, watching mundane TV shows, feeling normal and domestic in a way neither of you thought you could. It was important, no matter the time of day.

So you stand behind Natasha at the stove, wrapped around her back like a sleepy koala bear on a tree, as she stirs noodles in a pot. You tell her all about your day and she shares as much as she can of hers that isn't classified information. You trace the scars that litter her shoulders with your lips and she bats your hand away from the sauce pan so you don't burn yourself. Again.

The oven dings when the garlic bread is done and the two of you eat in companionable silence, taking precious moments to simply exist in each other's space.

When you're done you fight Natasha to leave the dishes for tomorrow.

"I need cuddles. You better put down that scrub brush, I swear to God."

So you resume your position on the couch. Sprawled out with an arm over your head, your toes touching the opposite end and a cat-like Natasha curled up mostly on top of you.

She has such a presence, a dominating, commanding force of a woman when she's out there in the world. But here in your little one bedroom, in the space your arms make for her, she shrinks, like a porcupine lowering its spikes.

The tv plays in the background but neither of you are paying attention. Your right hand rests behind your head while your left runs a steady course up and down her back, soothing in a figure eight that you know she likes. Her hands find their way under the hem of your shirt, grazing your tummy in a soft, tickling touch that makes you shudder and huff an indignant laugh.

"Don't you dare."

"I didn't," she protests into your neck. "They're about to judge the last cakes. I'm not distracting you, am I?"

"Brat," you chuckle and kiss her head where it's laying on your chest. The two of you lay all snuggled up until you start to fall asleep, gentle snores blowing through the red curls by your cheek.

"Nope. No falling asleep on the couch, too uncomfortable."

You whine and wrap your arms tight around Natasha, rolling until she's under you. She shouts like she's hasn't been trained how to overpower someone doing what you're doing fifty times over. No, she loves letting you crush her and you love feeling her under you.

With a hand on her cheek you lean in slowly, your gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips where her tongue darts out to wet them.

"Do you want me to take you to bed?"

Her eyes flutter shut and she nods her head. It's been a long day, but those words light a fire in you both.

You press a kiss to her forehead and climb off the couch, pulling her up with you by the hand as you go.

She protests when you push her into the bathroom to shower, but you know she needs it. Some time to herself to wash off the day, to unpack and make peace. That and the unscented soap at the compound just isn't the same as your lavender vanilla body scrub. It settles you too, smelling you on her like that. Mixing with the scent of her shampoo and something distinctly...Nat.

You're ready for bed when she comes back out. The shower was short this time and you know why when she doesn't bother to put her pajamas on, or even fully dry off.

You watch from the end of the bed as she drops her towel. Rivulets of water run from her collarbone and down her chest as she walks toward you.

To anyone else she would look fierce, like a lioness stalking her prey, confident and lithe in her movements. And she does look stunning, your breath catching as your eyes meet when she moves to stand between your spread thighs. But you see her. You can see the hesitation in those pretty green eyes that search yours from under thick lashes.

It's still there. The fear that she's not worthy of your time, your love. That she's too broken to be what you need.

You'll spend the rest of your life showing her that's a lie if she'll let you.

Her hands run the length of your thighs, pushing up the hem of your sleepshirt as you hold her face in your hands.

"So beautiful." You capture her mouth with yours, hungry and desperate to feel her against you.

Your hands caress her jaw before moving lower, grazing her shoulders, brushing away whatever laid heaviest there, before sliding further down to her breasts.

Natasha gasps into your mouth as you pluck and pull at her nipples, tugging on a line that runs straight to her core.

"Please," she groans against your lips.

"Please, what?" You tug harder on her nipple until she gasps and whines, pouting that you're making her use her words.

"Need you. Please. Touch me."

Her skin is soft and dewy against your lips when you wrap your lips around her breast. The sweet taste makes your eyelids flutter shut and you groan around your mouthful.

"Oh, fuck," she cries out and pulls at your hair as you lick and suck at her breast.

"Taste so good, baby. So perfect. Perfect fucking tits."

Her head falls back, mouth open and breathing heavy as her wet red hair tumbles down between her shoulder blades.

Your hands palm her ass cheeks, tugging her closer, squeezing the plump mounds between your fingers.

"Yes, baby, please," she moans when her exposed folds rub up against the cotton of your panties. You can feel how wet she is through the thin fabric.

"What do you want, baby? Want me to make you feel good?"

She looks down at you, at where you've been busy sucking new bruises into her skin. Doing your best to mark her as yours.

"Fuck yes. Make me feel good, baby."

She squeals when you grab her hips and throw her down on the bed. You know your grin is positively wolfish as you climb over her, tugging off your sleep shirt. Natasha's eyes fall to your breasts as she scoots back on the mattress, her mouth open and practically panting as her gaze skims your nearly bare body.

"Like whatcha see?"

"You know it, baby."

You laugh and fall to your stomach between her legs. Her thighs are creamy and soft and spread for you so beautifully.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy." You kiss down the inside of her thighs, nipping and sucking little love bites into her soft skin.

She inhales sharply when you ghost over where she needs you most to press kisses to her soft tummy. The scars there hold so much of her shame, the most uncomfortable parts of her past. It's a blessing, a gift, for her to show those parts of herself to you. And you treat them as such, every scar, every mark getting its own soft, loving kiss.

Her hips twist under your steady hands, trying to push you towards her center.

"Alright, alright," you laugh and nip at her hip, kissing your way down to her mound.

"You can spend all day down there another time, you sap. I wanna come all over your- ahh!"

Natasha cries out as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck.

"Oh fuck, baby. That's it."

You run your hands down her thighs to get knees and push them up to her chest, keeping your mouth on her pussy, licking and nibbling at that sensitive bud.

"Open up for me. Lemme see."

Nat gasps, her nails digging into her thighs as you spread her lips open with your thumbs and fuck her right hole with your tongue. She's so fucking tight, clenching around the muscle as you lick into her.

"Tight, creamy little pussy. This is my pussy. Right, baby? Say it."

You slap your hand down on her messy cunt.

"Yes! Yes, baby, it's yours. Your pussy. Fuck!"

Satisfied, you dive back in, licking and sucking at her lips, her clit until her legs are shaking around your head.

"I'm gonna come, fuck I'm gonna-"

You pull back and slap her pussy again and again.

"Ahh!"

"Come for me, then. Fucking come."

Natasha screams and comes when you shove your tongue deep in her pussy. Her juices spill over your tongue and you lap up all of it, as much as you can.

"C'mere."

Nat pulls you up by your chin and licks you clean, your chin, your cheeks. She kisses you, moaning into your mouth at your combined flavor.

"Good?" She nods her head, practically purring. "Want more?"

"Oh god, you're gonna be the death of me."

#lmk if you want more domestic natxreader #this was fun #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fan fiction #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff headcannon #black widow x f!reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x f!reader #black widow fan fiction #black widow smut #black widow one shot #black widow headcannon #black widow fluff #my fics #i wanna write more domestic nat 🥺

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banabotch · 11 days

Text

Chemistry

Description: Some things are given the perfect name. Natasha finds beauty in that. Some things are and sound as they appear, nothing deeper hidden underneath. Just a word and an obvious definition. That’s why she’s a fan of one-night stands. It’s not deep. It’s one night. Then, it’s over. So, you can imagine she’d get upset when one moves in.

Warnings: (Nat x OC! Series) smut, cringe-worthy awkwardness, angst, fluff, death, war, typical MCU stuff, trauma

(Prologue)

Lucky didn’t even begin to describe the way Kora was feeling. She was dreading going out at all, feeling out of touch in the crowd since being a mother. She had a teen pregnancy. Sure, she was an adult. 18. That didn’t mean she hasn’t missed out.

She got pregnant in highschool, and she could deal with that. She could handle the rumors that got out of control, the dirty looks, the rude teachers. None of it bothered her, not at first.

Then, her daughter came into the world. She couldn’t go to school. She didn’t trust anyone to watch her baby while she was there. That meant she couldn’t go out, unless it was child friendly.

News Flash: Highschool and college students aren’t child friendly.

With all the change, she was forever grateful to keep Anna. Her best friend for life, her ride or die, her family. But Anna was a kid too. She was still young, still experiencing. Kora didn’t blame her for choosing a fun time over her.

It was only natural for a kid to want to have fun. Kora understood, because she longed for that same carelessness and spontaneity. She didn’t blame her friend at all, but it still sucked. She had no support system, even now.

Kora loves her daughter more than anything; there is nothing that could replace the fulfillment of being a mom, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the loss of connection to her youth. She could feel it, and it made her nervous.

She considers herself lucky, yes. The bar isn’t, by any means, packed. In fact, there were only a few people occupying the space. It eases her mind, being less overwhelming than a nightclub. She doesn’t want random people grinding up on her or slipping something in her drink. She wants a good fuck, and that means being pickier. Unfortunately, her luck didn’t supply her confidence. That’s a job for liquor.

She makes her order: a screwdriver, double. Kora always found that alcohol provided her with lust. She found it particularly hard to see more than aesthetics without substances. Even with them, she preferred to close her eyes, preferred the absence of them, of who was fucking her. It often made her feel weird; different; outcasted. For a girl already so set apart from her age group, from society even, it only added fuel to the fire. So, she drank.

“Another?” The bartender asks, a thin line of sweat on his brow, rag thrown over shoulder, looking down at her. One could say the man was gorgeous, and Kora noticed. She looked at him a moment, considering his words, feeling the beat of the music thump around her and the heat of her drink swishing down her chest towards her liver. She could use another.

“Yes.” She doesn’t have to ponder on it for long. She’d been there 2 hours now, drinking and drinking, starting to worry that maybe she isn’t as pretty as she thought. She had a few guys come up to her, but none were attractive.

Come to think of it, she doesn’t think anyone hot ever had come up to her before. If it did happen, her guess is their mouth made them ugly. She wonders if she would mind taking the bartender home.

She supposes that she would, if the opportunity arose. There’s something about men she can’t have that turns her on. It’s exciting, being desired so badly that a man would risk his job to be with her.

“Penny for your thoughts? A drink?” A woman speaks beside her, drawing her out of her head and back into the dark room. She swirls the last of her drink in the bottom of her glass, hesitating. Something inside her is bubbling. She figures she’s excited to make a new friend.

“It’s not much of a party in here, is it?” Kora smiles, gesturing to the quiet atmosphere. The woman is pretty, that’s for sure. She doesn’t look like she belongs in a place like this. It’s so run down, gloomy, and cheap. It’s not the setting Kora would imagine to meet someone that looked like her.

“That’s why I like it.” She smiles back, ordering that drink with an air of comfort. Kora assumes she’s a frequent flier, maybe even friends with the bartender, a man she thanks by the name of Kevin. She calls him Kev, flashes a smirk, and returns her attention to her drink.

“You don’t like parties?” Kora can’t stop herself from asking, the question leaving her lips before she can so much as think about it. Something about the woman is captivating and Kora can’t look away.

“Most nights, I don’t. You’re looking for one?” Her eyebrow raises, drawing attention to the woman’s eyes. They aren’t brown, but they seem dark from where she sits. Kora finds herself leaning forward, trying for a better look. She blushes at the realization of her actions, leaning back in her seat awkwardly as she runs a hand through her hair, similarly raking through her mind for an appropriate response.

“No. No, I was just thinking that it’s surprising a bar this close to the university isn’t packed.” Kora’s blush deepens at the look she receives from the other woman. She can’t decipher what it means, but it’s gone soon enough.

“Are you disappointed?” She questions, finishing her drink and waving for another.

“No. I was relieved, actually.” Kora smiles, looking away from the woman’s cherry red lips and the way they press firmly against her glass.

“Oh?” She smirks, raising her brow, yet again. This time, Kora only glances at her for a second, looking at her own drink, and taking a sip before responding.

“My friend wanted me to get laid. Although, most the guys in here are old, so I think I’m off the hook.” Kora laughs, glancing back at the woman. She doesn’t know why she’s talking so much, rambling on to someone she only just met.

“You don’t want a good fuck?” She asks, her bluntness throwing the girl off-guard. Kora’s surprised she didn’t blush, or choke on her drink. The woman asked the words casually, gluing her eyes to Kora’s as if she hadn’t been the one speaking, as if she had only been listening; observing.

“Not from an old man.” She laughs, looking around the room again, as if to solidify there was nobody to catch her eye.

“Their loss.” Her voice is low, and Kora feels her heart speed up. The woman looks so casual and confident that Kora is desperate to appear a similar level of carefree.

“They’re too fragile, I think.” Kora doesn’t know how she meant for it to come off. She’d never have this conversation sober. Maybe that’s why she got drunk.

“So you like it rough then?” She smirks, watching an embarrassed blush color the girl’s cheeks.

“I don’t know. I definitely don’t like it weak.” She smiles, taking another sip of her drink. There’s nearly an air of awkwardness, one Kora knows is her making, but the other woman paints over it quickly.

“Has no younger man tried to pick you up?” She gestures to the rest of the bar, which has increased in size since Kora first arrived. Kora notices, as the woman moves, that the light bounces off her hair, making it shine in an almost red hue. It makes her wonder what color it really is, if it feels as soft as it appears.

“They have.” Kora avoids the woman’s intrigued gaze. She feels embarrassed, as if she’s been caught acting a way she’s not supposed to.

“I don’t doubt it.” She sounds so sure, so much so that Kora can’t help but glance up, almost as if to see if her face told another story.

“You asked?” Kora is not easily distracted by flattery, even when drunk. She’s suspicious now, her own eyebrow raising with a scrunch.

“That, I did…I wanted to ask why you haven’t gone with them, but that seemed too crass.” Her voice sounds slightly unsure to Kora. She appears utterly at ease, as if she’d just spoke about the weather. It confuses Kora slightly, who feels a strange sense of far-off excitement at what it could mean.

“Oh.” Kora doesn’t know what to say. However, she is desperate to keep the pretty woman talking. “I guess they just weren’t good enough.” Kora mentally curses herself at the arrogance, but the woman is only amused.

“So you play hard to get?” She smirks at this, takes a drink, and Kora looks away.

“Not usually.” She blushes, embarrassed by how easy she must sound. A woman as pretty as the one before her has likely had many men kneeling at her feet. Kora sees no possibility of this girl going home with just anyone.

“What changed?” The woman speaks again, turning her body slightly, as if to make the other girl more comfortable or open.

“I haven’t been satisfied.” Kora almost slaps a hand over her mouth. Her words came out sultry, sexy, and with a sense of challenge. The alcohol must’ve gave her more than confidence.

“Yeah? That’s a shame.” Her voice is raspy, and her pointer finger runs the rim of her glass. Kora feels her eyes burn with gloss, as if watching that act had burned a hole, all the way down to the apex of her thighs.

“It is?” Kora feels her eyes snap to the other woman’s, desperately trying to read the words. They could mean anything, if she really thought about it.

“If I had a pretty girl like you, well…” The woman smirks, taking a swig of her drink, and emptying the glass. Kora notices herself watching as the alcohol is pushed down the woman’s throat. She notices the eyes smugly looking over at her, waiting for the moment Kora realizes that she’d been caught. Kora catches her eyes, but surprises the woman.

“Well?” Kora pokes, trying her best to appear the way the woman was. She keeps eye contact, straightens out her posture, and tries her best to look neutral. She can’t find it in herself to not see how this goes, but she doesn’t want to look desperate.

“Well…” A devious and arrogant glint passes over her eyes, “I’d fuck you just for saying that.” The words sucked air from Kora’s lungs and lit a fire below her stomach.

“Too bad nobody has me.” She shrugs, a playful glint in her eye as she mixes her drink slowly with the umbrella straw.

“Oh, no. That’s no bad thing, sweetheart.” She purrs, causing Kora to look up in confusion.

“Why’s that?” The other woman is confusing Kora in many ways, but at this, she’s starting to think it’s just a game. It’s fun, but not quite what she’s looking for.

“If nobody has you, that means I get to fuck you and not feel bad about it.” She states, finishing her drink without even the slightest reaction.

“You think you’re gonna fuck me?” Kora may be affected by the woman’s words, but something inside her wants to play with the other woman too, payback almost. She was on the edge of disappointed, about to jump off and kill the question of her desire. The woman had put her there and pulled her back just as carelessly.

“You don’t want me to?” Her eyebrow raises, an amused expression raising her face. Kora hates how the woman can keep her cards drawn in close, how she remains so constantly cool and sexy.

“I-What if I didn’t?” She poses the question with procrastination, part of her scared of her own answer, of her own desire.

“I’d call you a liar.” She states, drawing over the bartender to close her tab. Kora can’t find a response, blown away at the knowing arrogance of the woman before her. “Look, I’m heading out. You can come with me, or you can stay here. I don’t care.” Kora watches as the woman stands, pulling out a wad of cash to count, before leaving a generous tip. Kora notices even her actions are careless, as if she had no concern over getting mugged. It turns her on, makes her feel strangely safe. No woman is stupid enough to be careless in New York City.

This woman? She lacks fear, which Kora finds enthralling. As the woman turns to leave, she finishes her drink and runs after her, gripping a surprisingly muscular arm to steady herself. For the first time in years, Kora is excited.

—-

A sound akin to a squeak slipped from Kora’s mouth when their lips smashed together. It felt tingly. It made her tingly. The woman’s mouth was warm, really warm. It made the cool air of the hotel room seem a little more cold, or maybe that was the fan. She couldn’t think about it. When hands cupped her jaw, Kora found herself leaning into it, enjoying it. She got lost in it.

She whimpers when she’s slammed against the wall. The woman pushes closer to her at the sound. She’s getting more confident, more aroused. Kora never thought a kiss could feel so good. She wondered how the rest of the night would go when she already felt like this. It made the Apex of her thighs feel warmer.

A hand drops to her neck, wrapping around the back, pulling her into the woman. Kora’s own hands set themselves on the woman’s hips, feeling her curves, sliding up her tank top to touch the soft skin of her waist.

The woman groans at this, pulling back to leave hot kisses down Kora’s jaw, heading to her neck, where her pulse thuds and her heavy breathing only gets heavier. A soft moan leaves her mouth when the redhead finds her sweet spot, pulling the skin tight and into her mouth, caressing the sting of her teeth with a wet tongue.

Kora raises a hand to the red hair in her line of sight. She sighs at how soft it is. It feels better than she had imagined. She runs her fingers through it, and she can’t help herself. She tugs. A grunt falls from the woman’s lips, who was working on slipping the dress past Kora’s shoulders. The woman allows herself to be tugged up, back into a hot and heavy kiss.

A firm grip lands on Kora’s hips. They’re pulled up and into the other woman, who grinds back, and Kora moans. The hands slide down, feeling for the bottom of her dress, sliding up her thighs, revealing her lacy panties. A strong thigh slips in between her own and she can’t hold herself back. She grinds down, feeling her throbbing get better.

She lets herself fall into it, back and forth, back and forth. When she fails to kiss back, lips leave hers and drop to her neck again, sucking harsher. The hands on her hips guide her, moving her again and again against the rough fabric of the woman’s jeans. Even as she shudders, as one hand finds the woman’s hair, and the other slips under her black leather jacket, feeling the tight muscles of her back shifting with movement, the repetition stays the same. Even as she moans, as she clutches the woman tighter to her, breast to breast, and face falling into the crook of the neck before her, the woman keeps moving her.

Forward, now back, forward, now back. Forward and her stomach is clenching, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Slightly faster and she can only focus on the coil in her belly. It’s getting hotter, twisting harder, and she knows she’s close to getting what she so badly wants.

“You’re moaning so pretty for me, sweetheart.” That’s all it takes. Just 7 words wrapped in the sweet sound of her voice, dripping with sex. Kora’s thighs clench around the woman’s. She gasps against her neck, letting herself come undone, arching back into the wall behind her, feeling the familiar warmth of lips returning to her neck.

The woman stretches her high, continuing the grind against her thigh, feeling the warm wet path of juices on her leg. She sighs at the feeling, at the woman grasping onto her, at the sweet taste of sweat on her neck, and the soft skin under her dress. She can feel the girl shift, the overstimulation likely growing uncomfortable. The woman loves it. She wants more.

“Please.” Kora pants, the sound coming out at the level of a whisper, with the tone of a whimper. She doesn’t know why she’s begging, or how to ask for what she wants, but the woman appreciates it nonetheless. She can tell by a groan at the words.

She’s pushing them backwards, further into the room. Kora’s knees hit the mattress, and she climbs back shakily, situating herself comfortably in the center, the woman staring her down, taking in every inch of Kora.

It almost leaves her uneasy: the hungry look on her face. If she wasn’t feeling the same way, she’d close her eyes. But she keeps them open, locking them with the woman, seeing what she missed in the bar. They’re green. They’re sharp and careful and calculating. They’re bold and make her want to look away, to cower. She blushes instead.

Those eyes gloss just a tad more, getting closer and closer, until they drop to the dress, to her hips. She climbs up, on all fours, hovering over Kora, looking down at her with pure lust. She takes in the sight. The straps to her dress are still pulled over her shoulders, down her arms. Her collarbone is exposed, and the woman runs her eyes over it, jogging down to her cleavage and walking lower to the curves accentuated by her dress. She smirks at her thoughts; reveling at the body below her; ready for some real fun.

Slender hands slide down under Kora and pull her up. One hand holds her like this, steady in the air. Kora nearly moans at the display of strength. Her hand falls to the woman’s arm, feeling her up, all the way to her shoulders. The woman unzips Kora’s dress, a slight blush rising up her neck while she’s being felt.

Suddenly, Kora drops. A gasp leaves her lips, blush darkening. The woman smirks again, watching her body react to the fall. Her breasts bounce, her arms brace, pushing her chest up, and the dress slides further up her thighs as her leg comes up to steady herself. The woman smiles, but it’s not sweet or comforting. It’s dangerous.

Her dress is removed delicately but quickly, slipping down her waist without the slightest scratch. She’s surprised by this. Although, that emotion could be the product of the woman’s warm body slipping between her legs, pushing her deeper into the bed.

It all feels so good. The weight, the way hands gripped her hips, felt her stomach, her breasts pressed against the other woman’s. She’s never been with a girl before, and Kora finds herself slightly anxious. She doesn’t know how to make the other woman feel good too.

Her own hands fall back into the red hair. She loves the silky texture, and even more so enjoys the feeling of soft lips on hers. She decides to take more control, sliding her mouth across the woman’s jaw, feeling her clench, dragging her fingertips over the tight muscle. She places a kiss there, and continues down. The girl’s neck is nearly burning, but it feels nice. It’s like hot tea on a night without sleep, warming her insides, tasting so sweet, and filling her head with a fluffy swirl of daze.

The woman smells like sweat and honey. Kora finds herself breathing it in, almost as if to save it for memory as she licks a stripe up her neck, stopping occasionally to suck and wrap a leg around the woman, pulling her further into Kora. The woman breathes heavier, but doesn’t allow this for long.

“Tsk, I’m not the one getting fucked tonight, am I?” Her voice is raspy, dark, and oh so pleasant to hear. The words turn Kora on even more than she’d like to admit, more than she understood to be possible. That, accompanied by the woman gripping her jaw, forcing her face closer. Their breaths mingle, Kora’s lips tickle with the air, her nose picking up the sweet scent of whiskey.

“No.” Kora breathes, letting the woman pull back.

“That’s right. So be a good girl and keep these hands to yourself.” Kora watches the woman grab her wrists, pulling them up above her head. Her hips raise, gliding along the woman’s toned torso. The pleasure only lasts a second, a hand firmly holding her hips down into the mattress. A pout finds her lips and the woman smirks.

Kora’s hands are left lying there, her hips devoid of relief, and the woman sinks lower. Their eyes are linked, a never ending staring contest taking place. Kora is curious. She doesn’t know what’s going to come next. The woman is craving a reaction.

A manicured hand runs up Kora’s chest, snapping the strap of her bra against her skin. Kora gasps, the slight sting matching the fire in the woman’s eyes, the contact making her all the more wet.

Her other hand starts at Kora’s calf, running up lightly, reaching her knee, her lower thigh, and just slightly higher. She’s right below where she’s needed, just watching, running her thumb back and forth in a featherlight manner. She watches Kora’s chest rise and fall with heavy pants, the glazed look in her eyes, the twitch of her hips, the tight hold on the sheets above her head. The woman doesn’t linger here long and for that, Kora is glad.

The hand on her thigh stops moving. She leans back on her legs, her hands pulled to her own thighs. She looks contemplative; excited but undecided. Then, she climbs up. She straddles a leg, pushes her knee up into Kora’s sex, and drops her torso over the other girl. Kora moans, grinding down on her again. With hands holding her up on either side of Kora’s head, the woman smirks.

“Arch for me.” Kora is taken aback, but does as she’s told. Her breasts touch the woman’s above her, with only the fabric of her bra keeping her from feeling more than a light skim over her nipples. Just then, the woman reaches under her, undoing the clasp on her bra as if having read her mind. She pulls it off gently, sucking in a breath at the sight. Kora blushes.

“So pretty.” She purrs, gliding a black fingernail over her collarbone, down, down, down, until it brushes against the soft skin of her nipple. Kora’s stomach flexes, her hands gripping the sheets tighter, anticipation filling her veins, raising goosebumps on her skin.

“Thank you.” She breathes, her cheeks burning hot at the look she receives. Kora feels desired and equally so, desire. The woman turned her head just slightly at the gratitude, confusion tugging at her brow only for a millisecond, before she relaxes and a smirk grows again. Something about Kora’s words seem to turn her on.

Kora gasps as a warm, wet mouth lowers on her lower breast, sucking slightly. Her other hand rises to give attention to the other. She sharply tugs at the nipple, surprising Kora, whose back arches slightly, a pretty noise escaping her mouth while her hand drops to the woman’s hair. She runs her fingers through it, holding the back of her head to ground herself. The woman groans against her, a ripple of vibration releasing a soft whine from Kora.

“Did the pretty girl forget?” Kora stills at the words. She hadn’t realized she’d gone against the rules. She rolls her eyes, annoyed.

“Must have.” She snarks.

“Your hands stay up here.” She practically growls, firmly holding her wrists above her head with a challenge. When Kora realizes she can’t pull away, her legs clench around the woman’s waist, and she sighs. She hadn’t expected the woman to be so strong.

Pressing her hand over Kora’s underwear and hearing a gasp, the woman smirks. “For someone so wet, you really should listen…Only good girls get to cum.” She whispers in the girls ear, shrugging as she moves her hand away from the soaked cloth and the hips so desperately searching the air for contact.

“Wait…please.” Kora begs, the ache between her legs beginning to pulse. She can’t remember ever being so worked up before. She also can’t remember sleeping with a woman.

“Only this once…because you asked so kindly.” She purrs, ripping the panties from her skin. Kora hears the fabric rip and a hand hushes her complaints, settling itself over her lips. Excitement flows through her veins and a finger slips through her folds. She gasps, lifting her hips into the feeling, satisfaction filling her breaths as her clit receives much missed attention.

As it starts slow, with soft circles around the bud, Kora begins to shift around, pushing into the hand that only pulls back to the same level of ghostly pressure. The feeling is good, but not enough. She can’t stand the lightness of the touch, the breeze of her fingers, instead of their full presence.

“I need more. Harder.” Kora begs, her words muddled by the hand covering her mouth. She locks eyes with the woman who had situated herself straddling a hip, one hand still hiding Kora’s lower face, the other below sight.

“Harder? What’s the magic word?” She husks, turning her hand to drag her fingers down Kora’s mouth, pulling her bottom lip out, feeling it shake with anticipation.

“Please.” She breathes, watching with hooded eyes as the woman takes her in completely, as if she had to consider Kora’s body, as if she wasn’t sure if she felt like giving in so easily, as if she longed to watch a struggle.

“Good girl.” She purrs, smirking as she soaks in the sound of the moan pulled from the girl beneath her. She’s enjoying this too. Kora can tell. She can feel the wetness on her hip, the wetness that’s discolored the jeans she still wears, making Kora frown. She wants to see skin too.

“Take off your clothes.” Kora pants, almost moving her hands to help. She caught herself before she could, her arms only slightly twitching with the thought. Either by this, or her words, the woman’s eyes light up. Kora feels uneasy by it, in an exciting way.

“And I thought you had manners.” She says raspily, pulling away from Kora’s body with a teasing frown. The girl stops herself from protesting the lack of contact, instead watching the woman unbuckle her jeans, pull the zipper down teasingly slow, and begin to wiggle out, looking up through her lashes as she makes eye contact, savoring the moment, the look on Kora’s face, the feeling of air brushing her damp skin.

She slides her jacket off her shoulders, folding it in half and tossing it onto a chair near their bed. Kora’s legs shift together, and the woman notices, but so does Kora. Kora notices the toned muscle and prominent veins on the woman’s arms, the skin of her lower belly, as that too becomes exposed, and the hunger she feels. She aches to reach up and run her hands over her stomach, to feel the ridges in her abs. She’d enjoy any contact at all.

“Better?” The woman asks, her eyebrow raising in question. Kora nods, having enjoyed watching every sliver of skin become exposed while the tanktop came off. She feels awe-struck, lying there, staring up at the women who’d yet to touch her again. “Use your words.” She orders, crossing her arms over her chest, covering the black design on her bra.

“Yes. Much better. Please fuck me.” She whines, begging, pleading with her. Kora’s sex feels uncomfortable. It’s pulsing, begging for contact, aching so badly to be filled. She’s desperate. The woman loves desperate.

Slowly, the woman sits how she had, sliding her hands over the girl’s stomach, using it to steady herself as she straddles Kora’s hip, sighing at the pleasure of it. She looks up, taking in Kora’s breasts, their perkiness, her neck, littered with a hickey or two, her mouth, open and panting, her arms pulled up over her head, and her hands that take hold of the comforter, yet again. She grins, watching the girl’s hooded eyes widen and her mouth part further with a hoarse moan as she slams her fingers into the girl’s pussy.

In: harsh and deep, out: pulling against her spongy walls, each thrust searching deliciously for that one special spot. Kora closes her eyes, her face scrunched in pleasure, her mouth hung open, silently moaning.

Gasp after gasp, and she feels herself getting closer and closer. Her stomach feels like it’s shriveling up, sucking for air, for release. Then, it stops. Nothing is inside her anymore. She feels her sex clenching around nothing, her eyes opening in confusion. The woman waiting for her, for those glossy eyes to open.

Just as Kora moves to speak, to question her, it starts again. It’s slower this time, it’s not enough. She feels herself clench again, sucking the woman’s hand further inside her. Suddenly, she gasps, stars lining her vision as if she had stood up too quickly. Her hips shoot up, making the woman slide down her thigh, a trail of wet heat following her. The woman moans, throatily, unexpectedly, and it’s a noise that has Kora’s thighs shaking, awaiting more pleasure.

“Keep your eyes open this time.” The woman almost looks annoyed at her, setting her hand on Kora’s lower stomach, pressing her weight into it as she pulls herself back to her prior position. Kora moans at the pressure of her hand, pleasantly surprised at the feeling.

Kora doesn’t have time to respond. The words are stolen from her tongue and her mind when two fingers enter her this time, gliding against that spot gracefully.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” She groans, skillfully fucking Kora whilst maneuvering up her body. Kora moans, her hooded eyes glossed over so much that she wonders if tears will fall. The slender fingers pump into her faster, and Kora feels it all. Every edge and side of them rolls smoothly against her walls. She feels almost perfectly full, another finger stretching her slightly.

“Oh my go-od.” Her whole body begins to shake, the sting of the stretch lighting the match in her belly, fireworks just seconds away from releasing from their container. Lips press softly against her neck, a vast difference from the hard thrusts of her hand and the rough grind of her wrist against Kora’s clit.

Kora heard the pops of the beautiful lights in the sky. She must have, because her ears are ringing and her vision is gone and all she feels is pleasure. She’s sure she’s moaning, she has to be. It feels so good. It lasts longer than expected, the woman stretching it out with lazier thrusts and gentle caresses on her breasts.

It’s then that Kora knows she’s screwed.

#avengers #natasha romanoff #marvel #natalia romanova #natalia romanoff #natasha x oc #fan fic #fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #prologue #black widow #wlw tag #wlw love #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut

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brightnote · 4 months

Text

MARIA HILL IN WHAT IF HAPPY HOGAN SAVES CHRISTMAS WHAT IF .. S2 (mostly) SLAYS!!

spoilers for What If Happy Hogan Saves Christmas

Die Hard-esque ✅

Snowman pin ✅

Snark about Stark ✅

HAMMER MEETS HILL!! ✅

A little Hill action (before she gets sidelined female character treatment) ✅

DARCY AND HILL ✅ (we could have more of them if Marvel wasn't the worst)

Maria Hill goes from broken leg to walking on it just fine ✅ (I assume she pulled the glass out of her leg herself??)

I know Maria had to get hurt for Happy to save Christmas but could she have had a little more action please? PLEASE? EVEN IN THE CARTOON CAN SHE NOT BE SIDELINED and be more useful / helpful? It was still probably the most of her we ever got to see doing something

Anyways a HIll/Hammer run in is something I have always wanted tbh I was not disappointed just wish there was more! My favorite line of the whole show came from their interaction and you will know it when you hear it it was A+ Hill level snark.

it was silly and funny and wild and Natasha is in a ballet costume so ya know what just expect it to be fun and it won't disappoint in that way but it will be a little sad when Hill is like "my leg is broken" and is then like walking around helping Happy and Darcy with JARVIS lol or maybe she has the highest pain tolerance in the world.

Pretty sure MCU saw that fan freak out/rage after they killed her off and were like okay maybe we should give her more to do like people have been asking for for twelve years!

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the-widow-sisters · 1 year

Photo

A sister always keeps you guessing,

But she’ll be there through thick and thin,

For every loss and every win,

Indeed, she is your greatest blessing...

Original Fic

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v3nusxsky · 11 months

Note

Hi i’d like to request maybe a Natasha. So Natasha ‘hates reader’ but then there the only ones available for a mission, then the 1 bed trope w hopefully smut? X

Bed situation

*Authors note~ my first Natasha fic I'm so excited and my first one bed trope I'm gonna leave the smut as implied but I hope that's okay so there’s always room for a part two *

Trigger warnings~ flufff

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

Being on a mission with the black widow was certainly something else. The mission was a simple one, disarming the guards and retrieving some data being kept. An overnight stay was required due to the time you needed to complete your mission, so when you landed it wasn't unexpected you'd both head to the hotel to drop your clothes off and remain hidden. What you thought was going to be a room with two beds was a room with one. Great. You had to share a room with the one agent who hated your guts. It wasn't a secret that Natasha would remove herself from any situation that meant being alone with you.

"Um do you want the bed? I'll take the floor" you mumbled avoiding eye contact. "Oh no, I can't have the starks brand new pride and joy. I'll have the floor you have the bed princess" she deadpanned before moving to create a make shift bed on the other side of the room. Yep, this was going to be awkward experience for you both. You somehow managed to grab some sleep, Natasha was up and ready before you were, completing your mission was simple enough and you ended back up in the hotel room two hours after completing it. Both of you had managed to escape rather intact, minus Natasha having bruised ribs from protecting you. Settling into your retrospective places you couldn't seem to let sleep take you, knowing the redhead was hurt and you blamed yourself, it didn't help with her slight groans and shuffling indicate she wasn't able to get comfortable either.

"Nat? Get up here" you mumbled turning to face her. "What? No I'm fine go to sleep" was all you got in a reply. But your stubborn nature didn't take that lying down. "For gods sake Natasha get up in this bed or so help me I'll be worse than anyone you can imagine" you practically growled. Unsure if it was the pain or sheer tiredness but you were pleasantly surprised to see her coming to lay next to you. "If you hog the blankets, I'll tell everyone you snore" she threatened causing you to giggle at her, "sure sure Natty." A comfortable silence settled over you both only disturbed by the sounds of little breaths. "Nat?" You whispered hoping she was asleep. "Mhm?"

"Why do you hate me so much?" You were cursing your voice for exposing how vulnerable you were by asking that question. "I don't hate you" she relied back without even missing a beat. "I can't be around you, I don't trust myself to not show weakness with you. You make me feel out of control" she whispered back so quietly you almost missed it. "It's not weak Natty" you murmured holding her gaze, "you make me feel out of control too, but there's no one else I'd rather be out of control with."

"Kiss me" she murmured causing you to pause, "what?" "Kiss me" she repeated but a bit firmer now. Before slamming her lips to yours in a passionate kiss, one that you'd been waiting for. Hands came to the others hair as you pulled one another closer. The black widow slipped her toned thigh between your legs causing you to gasp onto her lips. "Tasha" you sighed happily causing her mouth to move to your neck. It wasn't long before she began to suck on your pulse point and encouraged your hips to rut against her thigh. "Nat" you panted "we can we you're hurt." Your brain short circuiting now. "Dekta let's sleep and then when we are healed, because I know your hurt too, we can do things slowly and right" she murmured against your neck. "I'm still gonna want kisses" you pouted causing Natasha to laugh at your antics. "Funnily enough this wasn't the bed situation i thought we'd be in, but I'm glad it's with you Dekta."

Word count~ 722

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #nat #natasha x y/n #natasaha romanoff #Marvel #marvel fox #black widow #black widow fan fic

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bigbadripley · 1 year

Note

Funny stoned Yelena and reader bro

A Thousand Ants

Pairing: Stoned!Yelena & Stoned!GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of being high, to very hungry people, can be seen as romantic but no direct relationship establishment, no use of y/n

"You know what sounds good?" Yelena started, voice floating through your ears and echoing around your brain. Her accent was exciting, and you only ever really thought about it when you were high. All the other times, you were used to it. The two of you were lying on the floor surrounded by chip bags, having just finished a movie you barely remembered. "Everything sounds good." You mutter, rolling over onto your elbows. "Chicken and waffles from that one place." She said, ignoring your answer. You thought about it right away and agreed. "Yes! With Texas Pete!" You exclaimed, falling back onto your side and staring at the side of Yelena's face. She was beautiful as her eyes stayed glued to the ceiling. Moments like these made being alive so unique, and you knew you would never get a moment exactly like this again. "The popcorn up there looks like a thousand little ants just marching away." She said with a giggle. Her laugh was always infectious, and you laughed with her before you spoke again. "Mmm, popcorn sounds good."

#yelena belova #yelena x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #x you #x reader #gender nuetral reader #black widow #marvel #drabble #marvel drabble #marvel fanfic #marvel mcu #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu #fan fic #fan fiction #tw: weed

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mcu-fan-fics-blog · 1 year

Text

Misunderstanding The Assignment

Mini Series (Not My GIF)

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1115

A/N: Sometimes things don go the way we want them to... That doesn’t mean that we can’t enjoy the ride. I’ve had this idea for a while now as some of you know, but I think I finally found the right way to frame it. There will be more installments. If you like it let me know ;) ILY

Working in SHIELD changed you. That much was obvious, your discipline was through the roof, your mind was sharper than you ever thought it could be, and let's not even get started with the trust issues you’ve gained along the way. Then again maybe the mind thing isn’t quite there yet. See you could get so focused on somethings that you'd completely block everything else out. You practically lived under a rock in every aspect of your life except your work. You were always on top of that. Which is why you found yourself in the current predicament. See you’d been out on a mission when Clint came back with one of his projects and you weren’t really paying attention when he told you about his most recent assignment...

Natasha, who was she... She was the Black Widow. Not on your side that was what you knew about her. Color yourself surprised when you find Clint and her in the training room the day after you got back from your mission. “I see we let anyone in here these days.” You say lightly directing yourself towards Clint. He sighs. “Y/n play nice... This is Natasha Romanoff. She’ll be under my supervision, and yours too hopefully.” He says smiling lightly Clint was one of your closest friends and sometimes he took advantage of that. “How long are you going to be gone this time?” You already know where this is going. “Boss wants me back for at least a month, two and I get some brownie points.” He tells you knowingly. “So you bring back Natasha, then you dump her on me. Natasha who if I remember correctly... was your target. Someone you don't trust, someone I don't trust. And you leave?” You question.

He simply nods. “Come on Y/n do me this favor. You know how the boss can get sometimes, especially now.” You knew... Laura was newly pregnant of course she’d want Clint home. You sigh and he smiles knowing he’d already convinced you. “As long as you give credit where credit is due you hear me Barton.” He nods again. And finally someone shuffling catches your eyes. “Well Y/n this is Natasha. Natasha I'm sure you heard you’ll be under Y/n’s supervision for the time being. All I ask is that you behave.” There’s a small smile that plays on her lips. “I think that I can manage that.” With that and some other formalities Clint makes his way out of the training room. “I don’t trust you.” Is all you say. She tensed. “I’ve heard stories... very colorful....” Natasha goes to say something but you stop her. “But for some reason Clint wants to, so there must be something he sees in you.”

The eye contact is intense to say the least but neither of you waiver so you continue. “I am not your friend, nor will we be. We will train. I'll teach you some of the basics here at SHIELD then we’ll go our separate ways.” She nods in understanding. “One last thing, you mess up and you won’t be letting me down, you'll be letting Clint down. You do that, I'll hunt you down, and take you out myself.” This seems to irritate Natasha. “I’d like to see you try.” A condescending smirk on her face. “You don’t trust me, I get it.” Her accent heavy. You nod and don’t push her anymore. “Tomorrow at 4 in the morning we will meet her to assess your skills. Then some basics lay of the land and all here at SHIELD.” She nodded and made her exit.

You weren't necessarily happy with this development. Clint had a way of weaseling out of things when his family was involved. You couldn’t blame him, but still you were annoyed. The next day things didn’t go smoothly to say the least. “This did not have to escalate this far.” Was all you said between ragged breaths. See you were currently pinned on the floor with your arm suspiciously num and a stinging pain every time you took a breath. You’d barely gotten a couple of punches out before she was all over you. Maybe you should’ve looked deeper into her. You were definitely missing something. She was in a different mindset when you attacked, you saw the moment the switch flipped in her. You also heard when she zoned back in. She gasped and immediately released you.

She tried to get ahold of you again, but you didn’t let her. “You’ve done enough.” Other agents had already surrounded the two of you. It took two agents five minutes to pop your arm back in place and another one to walk you to the infirmary. Maria had already been informed and was waiting for you. “Is she a liability?” That was all she asked. “Fury will pull the plug if you think this won’t work.” You knew she was worried. You also knew that, that wasn't true. “You flatter me…” She chuckled. “Fury’s got a lot of stake in this. Natasha has a lot of stake in this…” You nodded. “It’s alright officer, I’m not pressing charges.” You joked. “I’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.” You finish off.

Someone had been stalking your door, you had a feeling of who it was. You opened the door before she could leave. “You here to finish the job?” You jabbed not so lightheartedly. It took her a moment to process your words, and another to school her features. “If you were a ‘job’ I would’ve finished it.” You chuckled. “You almost did…” You didn’t throw it in her face this time, just softly pointed it out. “I’m sorry..” , “It was my fault…” the statements left your respective mouths at the same time. You both acknowledged the statements, and made no move to take them back. “I mean it, I shouldn’t have pushed.” She nodded, accepting your reasoning. “I mean it too I am sorry for you arm… And your ribs.”

You went back into your room and left the door open for her to follow and she did. “You have some very powerful friends here.” You pointed out. It was somehow all pilling in front of you and it was all you could focus on. This was a mission, she was a mission. “Why.” It was all you asked. You knew better than to think this was only because of her skills, sure they were a part of it but, why her? She blanched at the question. And again you saw her slip a mask on. “We’re not friends nor will we ever be.” You nodded. With that she left and that was that.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #MCU #Marvel MCU #MCU fic #mcu fanfic #Black Widow #blackwidow movie #black widow x female reader #black widow x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanof x reader #clint barton #fanfiction #fan fiction #mcufam

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megamindsecretlair · 25 days

Text

The Secret Jatemme Files

Do not copy or repost my work. Reblogs are encouraged. Do not use my work to train AI. 18+ only. Minors do not interact. Multiple uses of n-word.

Jatemme x Black!reader Fics

Foolish - heavy use of n-word

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slightly-smarter-nat · 2 years

Note

If your requests are still open, could you write one where Natasha got really drunk at one of Tony’s famous parties at the compound, and when R helps the Russian to her room. Natasha would ask R to stay tonight, which she does, and Nat reveals she has feelings for R? And then R is caught off guard and because of the alcohol in Natasha’s system, her walls are down and she’s emotionally vulnerable and disheartened because she thinks R doesn’t love her back? But R reveals she in love with her too and hopes she remembers in the morning. And Nat does and it’s a very fluffy ending. Please and thank you! I live your fics!!

Drunk On Love || Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst- ends in fluff; mentions of alcohol consumption; explicit language; intoxicated characters; mentions of painkillers. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 9027 words.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request anon, I apologise it’s so late. I kind of went off topic with the request, so to the anon that requested this fic, if you would like me to re-write it more specifically to the request, I’ll happily do so. I hope you all enjoy! Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

*Italics/boldness indicate dialogue from the show the Reader and Natasha are watching.

‘Anna please, I-it’s not what it looks like! Me and Martha are-‘

‘What Daniel? Good friends? Platonic or romantic? God, you can’t even make your own mind up until you’re both under each other doing god knows what.’

‘Hey, that’s not fair. You know I loved you, yet you threw me to the curb like I was a piece of trash-‘

“You know what is trash, this show.” You remark towards Natasha as the two of you mindlessly watch TV after promising yourselves to have a relaxing, once in a lifetime day off from being world saving heroes.

Natasha glares towards the screen, concentrating on the drama unfolding in front of the two of you- and attempting to keep up with the current storyline of the show, “You’re the one who put it on, and besides it’s rather entertaining when you figure out what the hell they’re talking about.”

You laugh at her words as you shuffle further into the cushioned couch; throwing your feet up on the coffee table in front of you to replicate the optimum comfort position of complete and total relaxation, “In my defence, there was nothing else on and- wait Martha is walking towards the kitchen where Daniel and Anna are arguing!”

Natasha instantly grabs an Ash shaded pillow from beside herself to hug in support and in anticipation of the drama that is about to commence, “Oh god, this can’t be happening.”

Part of you notices the rare and yet delicate occurrence of Natasha being completely relaxed enough to let out this side of her. A side you often see and cherish; knowing your best friend trusts you enough to see what she’d consider and definitely deny to be her ‘soft side’.

However, escaping from your thoughts, you subconsciously drop your feet back to the carpeted floor as you lean forward towards the TV, losing yourself in the chaotic scenes on the scripted, yet somewhat addictive new reality show playing out.

‘Please, just hear me out-‘

Daniel’s plea is silenced with a deafening strike across his face-delivered by a vengeful hand belonging to Anna.

Having lost yourselves in the show, Natasha and yourself release a gasp in unison; not expecting the rather hysterical character to deliver such a harsh statement through her actions, opposed to her words.

As you study each pixel conforming on the screen in front of you with a newfound interest, you unfortunately start to pick at the skin encasing your nails- a nervous and unbreakable habit you have yet to overcome.

Natasha’s ears pick up on the telltale signs of your destructive actions, knowing the unique clicking sound resounds when you’re in deep concentration or in deep trepidation in concern with something.

“Y/n/n, you’re doing it again.” Natasha gently scolds your habit, causing you to snap out of your TV induced trance and notice your now red and broken skin. You silently curse yourself as the irksome stinging sensation makes itself known on your now raw skin.

Natasha shakes her head as she guides her gaze back to the TV screen, “I thought you were using that nail polish I gave you to stop you from dissecting your nail beds?” You groan at Natasha’s question, knowing she’ll refuse to drop the topic now that she is aware of its occurrence once again.

Harvesting a deep breath, you center your tone before answering the red head, knowing she’s only trying to support you, “I did… but I ended up picking it all off during Steve’s latest briefing on our upcoming mission schedule.”

Natasha smirks at the irony of your conflicting actions with the mechanism designed to refrain you from messing with your nails entirely, “Okay, I’ll cross that one off the list as a failure. What about using bandages across your nails?” Natasha moves through her mental list of ways to help you kick your unwanted anxious habit, knowing it’s becoming an insecurity of yours.

In sync with Natasha, the two of you raise your feet from the ground and bury them underneath your bodies as you move to address each other further, “I tried that one already, they just irritate me throughout the day. Plus Parker thought it was double-sided tape and had the audacity to think I was replicating his ‘sticky fingers’ situation.”

Natasha lets out a low chuckle at your statement, though not hesitating to guide her amused gaze towards your stern one.

However, only a few seconds pass before the two of you break out into laughter; never having a dull moment between the both of you.

“Well, I know one technique we haven’t tried if you’re up for it y/n?” Natasha says evenly, keeping her gaze locked on yours.

You can’t help but fidget under her gaze, long forgetting the show on the TV, but happily becoming lost within Natasha’s ethereal sea of green irises, “W-what is it?” You practically whisper, studying her face intently as you await her suggestion.

Natasha silently reaches for one of your hands, delicately brushing over your skin as she encases her hand with yours in a supportive manner.

You watch her actions in surprise, sure you’ve held hands with her before, but this time you’re convinced that the initial touch of her skin on yours was electric.

Natasha gently pulls the hand taken towards herself to place on the cushion obtained earlier, “This way, if you try to do it again, you’ll have to go through me in order to do it.” Natasha says with a tilt of her head, attempting to ignore but most likely enjoying the heated blush working its way up your neck and across your cheeks from her actions.

You attempt to stagger out a response, knowing your feelings for Natasha are ever increasing, yet part of you wants to deny them in fear that she doesn’t return your affections- in turn the current situation is proving that task difficult. Natasha isn’t exactly the most open book of all, deciphering her feelings towards others is a challenge in itself.

Having words fail you, you allow yourself to bow your head slightly and escape her curious gaze. What she’d do to have a moment to hear your thoughts on her outgoing movement- little did you know, her heart is near enough hammering out of her chest, fearful that you’d reject her motion of love in the most subtle way she can ponder without giving you an opportunity to outright decline her care.

“Y/n-“ Natasha finds it within herself to push you for an answer to silence her tormenting thoughts. That is until she hears the bellowing voices of Yelena and Kate travelling down the hallway and into the living area where the two of you are currently occupying.

Your gaze snaps towards the former Widow and Archer, loosening your hand away from Natasha’s in fear of creating a tense, yet ecstatic questioning session from Yelena at the contact-knowing Yelena is desperate to see you and Natasha become a couple. You’d hate to create a false sense of hope, not only for Yelena, but for yourself too.

Though, Yelena has never shied away from creating ‘coincidental’ circumstances of you and Natasha being paired up for every training session; team task and missions. That cannot work wonders between the fears surrounding rejection surging through Natasha and yourself; but it has made you somewhat closer.

As you turn yourself on the spot to give the two women your undivided attention; you fail to see the flash of hurt run across Natasha’s features at your effort to distance yourself from her in the presence of her Red Room Sister and Kate. Her hands now feel cold from the loss of your warmth that she so desperately craves.

Kate takes quickened steps to reach the back of the couch before Yelena, who wanders over with her hands nestled in a pair of the many pockets decorating her impressive and rather practical hunter green vest.

“Hey guys, what are you two up to?” Kate asks curiously as she goes to lean across the back of the cushioned couch to spy what plays on the screen central to the room.

You smirk as you go to reply to the Archer, “Oh we’re just watching some lame show-“ Before you have a moment to finish your explanation, Kate eagerly and enthusiastically interrupts your words.

“No way! You’re watching ‘Heartbreak in New Asgard?! I love this show!” Kate exclaims as she attempts a graceful clamber over the backing of the couch to lumber herself in between you and Natasha.

You groan in discomfort as she uses a tightened grip on your head to assist herself over- allowing Yelena’s disturbed gaze to land on her disheartened sister, “Sestra, are you okay?”

The saddened features tainting Natasha’s face snap back into that of a stoic nature, displaying an unreadable resting face for the Widow, shielding herself from further pain of sympathetic questioning she’d rather escape, “I’m fine, why are the two of you here?”

Natasha quickly dismisses Yelena’s concern, sending a pang of turmoil through the blonde assassin with her miserly tone. However cryptic Natasha may be, Yelena never fails to notice a shift in Natasha’s demeanour; though she also knows never to push Natasha to open up, she’ll come to her when she’s ready- she hopes.

Yelena clears her throat as she eagerly moves her gaze away from Natasha, “Kate Bishop and myself are planning on working on some well needed combat training. Isn’t that right, Kate Bishop?” Yelena teasingly directs towards her newly acquired friend, knowing Kate’s impressive and enhanced Martial Arts are in no way of a comparison to Yelena’s extensive Red Room training-yet.

Kate moves to rest her elbows on her knees, leaning forwards in fondness of the show commencing, “Huh? Yeah, yeah sure whatever you say Yelena. Sounds awesome.” Kate mumbles out in response, not caring to take in the conversation playing out between the Widows, but directing her entire attention on her favourite guilty pleasure.

You wave a hand in front of Kate’s face, laughing at the way her vacant expression signals out your action to follow along the show, “I think we’ve lost her.” You announce, causing Yelena to groan.

“Ugh, you are impossible Kate Bishop.” Yelena lets out, knowing a mass effort will now be required to remove Kate from her current area of fixation.

“Anyway, we wondered if the two of you wanted to join us. You can see how well I kick Kate Bishop’s ass. My current record is under two minutes.” Yelena proudly announces to Natasha and yourself; secretly hoping it’s enough to entice the two of you to join the training session.

You go to respond positively to the question put forward, until you catch Natasha’s eye; part of you wonders if the furrowed gaze is begging you to reject Yelena’s offer and stay with her a bit longer. Having a sudden urge to bask in the lone company of Natasha, you conform your answer.

“Thank you Yelena, but Natasha and I are having a chill day so no training is allowed- Romanoff’s orders.” You say in a light manner, hoping to not offend the younger Widow, but assert your promise to Natasha.

Natasha releases a relieved sigh, though she adores Yelena, she knows she has a better chance of moving things forward with you if the two of you are alone.

“Sestra, maybe another time we can see your self declaration of superiority over Kate’s skillset.” Natasha addresses Yelena, hoping no offence has been caused towards her sister on her part.

Yelena can only smile in response, knowing her offer was likely to be declined in favour that the somewhat undetected, yet mutual pining between her sister and her friend would advance into something more.

“I’ll hold you to that Sestra.” Yelena moves to bring Natasha into a heartfelt hug; striking the opportunity to whisper supportive words into her Sister’s ear in the hopes that she will lift her dismal mood.

The words remain unintelligible to you, until your attention is peaked from Yelena blowing a wave of nuisance air into Natasha’s ear; causing the redhead to shove the blonde away with an amused mumble of ‘grow up’.

Yelena chuckles in giddiness, never passing the opportunity to tease her Sister in the most troublesome way she can muster to think of, “Okay Sestra, okay we’ll get going and leave you to whatever this is-“ Yelena waves a finger between Natasha and yourself, earning an eye roll from her Sister; “Come on Kate Bishop.” Yelena attempts to remove herself and Kate from the situation.

Kate waves Yelena’s words away with a dismissive hand, “Shhh, it’s getting to the good part. They’re about to make up.” Kate lets out with her enrapt gaze remaining upon the TV.

Yelena releases an unamused sigh as she goes to lift the Archer up by the purple collar of her combat gear; causing Kate to follow the forceful tugs from the couch she wishes to remain on.

Kate releases several protests of annoyance at Yelena’s incessant tugs; grasping the message that it was in fact time to leave.

You and Natasha shake your heads at Yelena’s antics, she never fails to amuse the two of you.

Just as the two women move to leave the room and bid you a goodbye, Tony Stark decides to grace the room with his presence.

Yelena moves to nudge Kate, stifling a laugh enough to let her words out, “Oh, look Kate Bishop, it is the grown man that I made cry the other day. How exciting.” Yelena teases, never one to shy away from putting Tony in his place from his vulgar words.

Tony firmly shoves his hands into the compact pockets placed on his custom made jacket, giving his throat a clear in the process, “Belova, a pleasure as always.” He sarcastically remarks as he moves towards the couch; ignoring the shared amusement being vocalised by Kate and Yelena on the way to their destination.

Tony removes one of his hands to bring it towards your head, ruffling your hair into an unwanted mess as he goes to address you, “How’s my favourite Avenger doing on this fine day?” Usually when he directs such a title to yourself it’s because he wants something from you- you dread to think what it could be this time.

You groan in irritation as you slide away from his vexing movements, “I was okay until you showed up Tony.” You grumble as you try to style your hair down from its now hectic state, courtesy of Tony Stark himself.

Tony smirks in response, loving the practical sibling rivalry the two of you unknowingly created from your friendship.

As Tony is an intelligent man, he knows not to replicate his actions of greeting with Natasha, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to display an unfriendly manner to his pestering ways.

He nods his head in Natasha’s direction in greeting, “Widow.”

Natasha folds her arms with a gentle sigh in response, “Stark.” She simply lets out, loving the way she can intimidate Tony with just her presence alone.

You stare at Natasha in wonderment, “Okay, you’ve got to teach me how you do that.” You say in reference to the successful taming of Tony that Natasha can so easily manage.

Natasha smirks in pride, grasping onto that small essence of rendering you stunned. That is until Tony invades the conversation.

“You love it really, y/l/n. Anyway I have some very exciting news to share with you y/n.” Tony announces as he rubs his hands together in motion of hyping up his upcoming statement.

You twist your facial features slightly in curiosity, and a mixture of hesitancy, “Oh god, what have you done now?” You question in uneasiness.

Tony scoffs at your words, “What makes you think it’s something bad, in fact I am offended at your negative tone towards my ingenious idea-”

Natasha picks up the conversation from her point of view, “In all fairness Stark, as of late, your plans have ended in complete and utter chaos- no offence.”

Tony waves a dismissive hand towards Natasha, “Offence taken. Anywho, before I was rudely misjudged, I’ll tell you what I need you for. Tonight I’m throwing a totally kick-ass, ‘you have to be there’ party and you’re coming; no arguments.”

You drop your mouth in protest, “Wait, what?! No way, why?!” You practically stutter out, failing to recall even putting your name forward for this extravagant idea.

Tony rolls his eyes as though the reasoning would have become obvious to you upon revealing his request, “Okay, I may, or may not have announced that you’d be a guest of honour per se to show off our newest Avenger to some of the board members at some new, rival tech company trying to out-do my image. Regardless, your ass better be there or I’ll have J.A.R.V.I.S wake you up every morning at 2 am for two months.”

You shake your head in annoyance, “Not like I haven’t been on the team for ten months already.” You mumble alongside a dramatic shift of your body and folding of your arms for good measure.

Tony shrugs at your statement, “You win some, you lose some kid. Widow, you are of course invited, and by that I mean you have to be in attendance also.”

Natasha widens her eyes as she goes to object to Tony's offer, “No, I was serious when I told you I would not attend anymore of your ridiculous charades that you so adamantly hold for no reason. I’m not going; in fact, I have plans.” Natasha simply claims.

The ending of her statement catches your attention, causing you to snap your gaze towards Natasha in a questioning manner- she hasn’t mentioned any unknown plans throughout the entirety of the day.

Tony smirks in a mocking manner, “Let me take a wild guess and put forward that it will include something as mind-blowing as your current activity of choice. I would never have thought you’d stoop so low as to resort to watching trashy TV on a weekday Romanoff.” Tony clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth several times to add to his disapproval of Natasha’s refusal to go to the party scheduled.

Natasha shrinks into herself lightly, choosing to contain the thought in her head that she may or may not have been considering catching up on the series later on in her room, “…no, plus y/n put this on. I’m not interested in the slightest.” Natasha firmly rejects the idea of being engrossed with the show, avoiding suspicion.

You turn to Tony with a smile, knowing that if you’re going down in regards to Tony’s party, Natasha is going down with you, “Don’t listen to her, it’s her most favourite show in the entire worl-“ Your exaggerated statement is put to a halt once you feel a firm strike to your chest, originating from Natasha’s pillow being swung towards you in hopes of silencing your teasing.

“That’s enough out of you y/l/n.” Natasha playfully scolds, grabbing the pillow once more to place back on her lap.

Tony shakes his head as he attempts to refocus the conversation, “Romanoff, I can assure you that this party will be one to remember. For all the right reasons of course; give me one more chance to prove it to you. If I’m wrong, I’ll even watch whatever monstrosity is captivating you all so much on the screen. What do you say Widow?”

Natasha bites her lip in thought, part of her wants to join in on the fun of having the team together for some drinks and a bit of dancing. Though she also wants to have an easy night as previously planned with you.

Tony attempts his best pout, unintentionally putting Natasha off the idea more with his odd choice of convincing.

You reach over to nudge Natasha’s knee with your hand to gather her attention, allowing her gaze to fall to you, “I’ll definitely go if you go. That way we can still hang out together and control the hectic levels of fun I’m sure Stark is so desperate for us to have.” You say lightheartedly, hoping to convince Natasha to join you.

Natasha thinks on your words for a moment, deciding that a night in your company will be perfect, no matter the setting.

With that notion in her mind, she gives you and Tony a nod of approval, “Alright, I’ll be there.”

If only Natasha knew what she was getting herself into.

———-

*The Party*

You harshly throw yourself down into a sitting position on one of the many couches decorating the frenzied, yet remarkable party playing out within the Compound.

Through your heavy actions, you earn a distasteful glare from Yelena as she mumbles several curses in Russian before addressing you properly, “Watch yourself y/n, you nearly made me spill my beer; this jacket isn’t cheap you know- well so the guy told me as I stole it from him-“

You raise a surprised eyebrow at her words, earning an eye roll from the blonde, “Oh come on, I am totally kidding… well not entirely, I needed information, he wouldn’t give it to me, blah, blah you know how the story goes.”

You let out a light laugh at her words, failing to see where the story was heading, and opting for the safe option of not asking anymore questions in regards to the topic- the less you know the better, “Sorry Lena, I’m just exhausted. I’ve been here for forty minutes and already I’ve had to display fake smiles; engage in exasperating small talk and in all honesty I’ve lost count with how many strangers I’ve had to shake hands with to please Tony Stark himself. That man is a nightmare.”

Yelena smiles at your dismal tone, allowing your features to cross in confusion, “What?” You ask.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Let’s just say Stark has a surprise waiting for him in his room upon his return, courtesy of Kate Bishop and myself, that he will truly hate, and in your current predicament, I think you will love.” Yelena proudly takes a mouthful of the bitter and intoxicating beer in her grasp- revelling in the knowledge that through the shared boredom of her and Kate they can produce the most mischievous plots known to the existence of the Avengers.

You release a satisfied breath at Yelena’s cryptic words, allowing a surging happiness to course through your system that all this hassle will be worth it by the end of the night- you hope.

“See, I knew I liked you for a reason Belova.”

Yelena hums in acknowledgment, “What is not to love, I am pretty cool. Though, something tells me I am not as cool as Natasha-“

Without even moving your glance towards Yelena, you send her a warning jab with your elbow, earning a menacing chuckle from her as she goes to take another sip of her beer.

Before another word can be uttered, Wanda and Kate take a seat on the opposing couch- having collected their choice of beverage to get them through the night. You give them a nod in greeting as they direct quick ‘hello’s’ towards you; having seen Maria Hill quickly making her way towards your newly formed group.

“Hey, have any of you seen Carol? I’ve literally searched the entire Compound and I cannot find her anywhere.” Maria frustratedly lets out.

Wanda tilts her head in thought until she opens her mouth in realisation, “Oh, yes she is currently challenging Thor to an arm wrestling match. They’ll be on the third floor most likely.” Wanda reveals with a smile, hoping to ease any worry within Maria.

Maria groans in annoyance, “Of course she is, man she’s a hard one to find when you need her. Um, how do you get to the third floor again?” She asks unsure, knowing the Compound is like an endless maze thanks to Tony’s continuous modifications of the building.

You gather yourself up to stand by Maria, readying yourself to point an arm out to direct her gaze to the concealed staircase used to access the third and fourth floor.

Before you can verbally direct Maria, your eyes land on quite potentially the most magnificent sight to ever be graced upon you.

Natasha slowly makes her way into the colossal room, allowing her viridescent eyes to roam the guests dancing and mingling their way across the open space.

Her image is flawless; her wine red and signature hair perfectly reflects the multitude of colourful lights that easily roam their way throughout the room; her chosen outfit entailing a ravishing black dress that hugs her body to an impeccability that can only belong to Natasha Romanoff herself. However, the detail that traps your attention most is the cherry shaded lipstick blanketing her addictive, plump lips.

Having noticed your engrossed state, Wanda takes it upon herself to guide Maria over to Carol herself; biting her lip at the blaring thoughts your mind can conjure in appreciation for Natasha’s goddess capabilities.

The nearing of clicking heels snaps you out of your own mind, as Natasha spots you from a far and eagerly makes her way over to you.

You allow yourself to close the distance at a heightened pace, refusing to withstand another second without Natasha being near you.

Through your diverted attention, you frustratedly stumble towards Natasha; who luckily stabilises you with ease, “Oh, careful y/n. I’ve not even been here for ten seconds and you’re already falling for me.” Natasha teases with a smirk.

You quickly compose yourself and mumble a ‘thank you’ towards her before finding your voice, “You wish Romanoff.”

Unbeknownst to you, she truly hopes she has such an effect on you.

Filling the silence, a sharp pain strikes you at the back of your neck, producing a grimace from you as you notice a metal bottle cap drop to the floor, beside your foot. You turn to the direction of its supposed origin- noticing the impressed faces of Kate and Yelena at the obtaining of your attention.

“When you are quite finished drooling- I mean talking to my Sister. Would you be so kind as to fetch us some more drinks.” Yelena taps her empty bottle in emphasis of its now drink-free state.

You roll your eyes with a shake of your head at Yelena words, turning your sight back towards Natasha who is failing to stifle a laugh at Yelena’s teasing, “I swear I’m going to kick Barton’s ass for teaching Kate that bottle cap trick.” You rub your neck in a soothing motion from the strike inflicted by the Younger Archer.

Natasha hums in agreement, knowing Clint has the tendency to show certain members of the team the more rebellious tricks opposed to the ones instructed for delivery by S.H.I.E.L.D.

“So, can I get you something to drink? My treat.” You remark, knowing it’s an open bar and hoping to catch a smile from Natasha.

She doesn’t disappoint as her alluring smile forms at your offer, “Hmm, surprise me.” She responds, earning an unexpected ‘oh’ from you.

“I’ll be right back, Miss Romanoff.” You take your leave to collect the drinks requested by your closest teammates; hoping to rush back so you don’t get dragged across the room to meet another one of Tony’s guests that he insists you greet.

Natasha watches you go before finishing her journey to the area of couches you were occupying before her arrival.

As she goes to sit down in a vacant seat, she intentionally ignores Kate and Yelena, who in their less than sober state have taken it upon themselves to replicate yours and Natasha’s conversation- with some additional kissing noises and outrageous flirtation that has Natasha contemplating in the not so subtle act of bashing their heads together, in hope of knocking some maturity into them- hope being the key word.

Luckily for you, but not so lucky for Natasha, a rather giddy and lightheaded Tony makes his way over to her; having made thorough use of his own open bar.

“Widow! Natasha! There you are, I have been searching all over for you, you little minx.” The little filter that Tony had in the first place has completely shattered with each dose of alcohol that he has consumed over the party’s duration.

Tony shuffles over to the seat next to Natasha, causing her to move over quickly to avoid Tony’s lack of awareness of his surroundings to cause him to unintentionally sit on her lap.

As he snuggles his way into the seat, he nods his head towards Yelena and Kate, not caring to strike up a conversation with the two, “Now, Romanoff, part of me thought you’d be too, well your earnest self to attend my little shindig.”

Natasha decides to entertain Tony in his current state, knowing he’ll soon move on once his boredom reaches its peak, “Oh really, why is that may I ask?”

Tony sways his movements slightly to turn towards Natasha, intaking a deep breath to keep his thoughts in check, “Well, to put it quite simply Widow; you’ve lost your touch. You’re not as fun and exciting as you once were. We want the old Romanoff back-“ Tony interrupts himself with a strike of a firm hand towards his leg, directing attention to his apparent plea.

Natasha scowls at Tony, “What are you talking about? I haven’t lost my ‘touch’.” She attempts to defend herself, forgetting that Tony’s mind is not of sober thoughts.

Just as Tony goes to open his mouth once more, you arrive back to the area; passing over Yelena’s and Kate’s drink as they mindlessly take them from you, having lost themselves in their own conversation.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask cautiously, noticing the unnerving glare Natasha is directing at Tony- who seems completely unphased and unaware of the impact of his words.

“Oh, just telling Widow here how boring she is now, and how we’re all glad she could join us.” Tony rambles on, attempting to grab at the chilled beer in your hand that you gathered for Natasha.

You swiftly pull it away from him, “Tony, stop being an ass. Nat is probably, actually no, is the most entertaining member on this team. Natasha and boring don’t mix.” You effortlessly defend Natasha, knowing insecurities of her impression towards the others has come up in conversation. Yes, Natasha is a confident woman, though the inflicting damage caused by the Red Room still infiltrates her mind in cruel and vile ways in which she feels as though she has to change the person she was created to be, to be the one the team loves and supports.

Tony obnoxiously blows a surge of air through his lips in disbelief, “Please, we all know I am the most interesting member present. I mean, take this example for instance: if we got a rock, a plain, ordinary rock, I would find it highly taxing and difficult to differentiate between Romanoff and this boring rock that I somehow acquired.” Tony loses himself in his mindless babbling.

You look over towards Natasha, feeling your heart pang in turmoil at her disheartened features. All of her tormenting worries are being announced right in front of her; assisting in the miserable tears cascading down her face.

You go to reach out for Natasha before she abruptly stands up and removes herself from the scene.

The sudden action captures Yelena’s attention, filling her with concern for her sister.

“Nat? Sestra!? What is going on?” Yelena loudly questions, noticing your fuming gaze towards Tony.

Tony sleepy looks over each member present, completely unaware of the hurt caused by his stupidity in the moment, “Since Romanoff has left us in such a hurry, can I have her beer?” Tony reaches out once more for the drink furiously clutched in your hand.

You choose to slam the bottle down on the table placed in front of the couches, not caring over the alcohol now tainting the surface, “You’re lucky you’re not wearing it Stark.” You harshly direct towards Tony, opting to leave and find Natasha in hopes of consoling her.

Yelena watches the scene unfold in puzzlement, Natasha has never walked away in such a manner before, allowing her to conclude that Tony has struck a nerve with her.

Tony lazily moves forth to claim the unattended beer; ignorant to the enraged stares being directed towards him by the two younger Avengers.

——————-

You don’t know how much time has passed, but in the duration you’ve failed to locate Natasha.

With endless apologies and light shoves, you make your way through the crowded room; eyes scanning frantically in hopes that you’ll find Natasha and attempt to fix the mess created by Tony.

Frustration gets the better of you, as you rub your hands across your face to centre yourself, you’re running out of not only ideas, but places to search.

As your hand moves to cover your mouth, you spot Wanda, Maria and Carol clambering in a drunk manner up a set of stairs; releasing bouts of roaring laughter as they desperately clutch onto each other to avoid a nasty fall.

With your luck thinning out, you push your way towards them rapidly, considering the possibility they may have seen Natasha.

“Guys, have you seen Nat?” You breathlessly ask, feeling the effects of not only the exertion to travel throughout the compound as quickly as your legs can take you, but the rising heat of the hectic room.

Carol pouts in thought, “Urm, Nat? Which one is that again?” She asks Wanda and Maria, who find her fake confusion comedic.

“Carol-“

“Oh, the one with the shield huh? Or is it the bow and arrow set? I can’t quite remember-” Maria dazedly asks you, struggling to maintain focus on your features as she sways towards Wanda for stability.

“Can you all stop acting like complete and total jackasses and answer my question?!” The raise in your voice snaps a partial moment of sobriety into them.

A flash of red passes through Wanda’s irises as she attempts to assist you with her mystic abilities, “She’s at the minibar, you know the one where Thor stores the Asgardian liquor?”

Your eyes light up at Wanda’s answer, finally being one step closer to finding Natasha, “Wanda, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much!” You shout as you jog towards the specified location.

You make it across to the minibar in record time, refusing to waste one more second. As you release that final push through the remaining guests that stand in your way, that’s when you find yourself witnessing the rather destructive behaviour Natasha is displaying.

She readies herself another shot of what can be presumed to be one of Thor’s many alcoholic delights that decorate this area of the room.

With one quick swirl of the liquid filling her miniature glass, she releases a breath and quickly downs the shot in one; barely flinching at the burning sensation making its way down her throat.

As you near Natasha further, the drunken features that have progressed are obvious: her usually impeccable posture is slouched across the bar as she desperately raids the supply available to her; her eyes are glazed with a depressive shine- a battle between the red strain of her tears against her vivid green eyes highlights her sorrow further.

Just as Natasha goes to pour herself another drink, you place your hand slowly across the opening of the glass; preventing her from serving another round of regret and earning a scoff from a displeased Natasha.

“Move your hand, I won’t ask again.” Natasha grumbles, her voice carrying a huskiness to it that is most likely from the continued burn of each drink she has ingested.

You use your hand to slide the glass away from her and across the bar, “Natasha, maybe you should slow down. I know you’re upset, but Tony had no right to-“

Natasha staggers back more forcefully than the two of you would have expected, causing you to reach out to keep her in balance, “God y/n, I’m fine. I’m doing what I’m supposed to at parties, getting wasted and having fun. Since, I-I apparently don’t know what that is-“ Natasha rambles on her drunken words, quickly dismissing your concern.

You sigh at her state, hating the fact that she truly believes drinking her problems away will bury them- though they always find a way to re-surface, usually in the morning with a hangover on the side.

“Nat-“

Natasha shakes her head to silence you, “No, I didn’t ask for your help or your pity. Now you either join me and have fun, or you can go away.” She releases a heavy breath at her own words, knowing the alcohol is catching up with her and flooding her bloodstream.

As you move to grab the bottle Natasha is choosing to hug close to herself, a tightened grip is placed on your shoulder, “Ahhh, there you are Widow, we missed you over in our little corner-“ Tony decides to implement himself in an unwanted scene.

Natasha picks up the bottle of liquor and takes an immense gulp from its contents as she storms away from Tony. You try to follow her, until Tony stops you once more, “That reminds me, I need to introduce you to-“

You audibly groan at Tony’s incessant disregard for Natasha’s feelings, “Tony! I do not give a fuck about who you want me to meet. I’m trying to clean up a mess that you caused since you’re clearly too self absorbed to deal with it on your own tonight-“

Tony turns his features down in a rare calmness, seemingly taking your sour words towards his behaviour.

That is until Yelena rushes towards you, “Y/n, where’s Natasha!?”

“She was just here until-“ Your words are drowned out by the thunderous beat of the speakers placed around the room, as they begin to blast out a steady beat belonging to the iconic song ‘Hypnotize’ by The Notorious B.I.G.

Tony releases an ear-splitting set of whistles as his eyes land on the scene that the crowd around you eagerly rush towards.

As Yelena and yourself look towards your left, you’re met with quite frankly a horrifying scene of Natasha hoisting herself up on a steel table.

Without a second thought, you rush towards the edge of the table. Having to listen to the crowd now encouraging and cheering Natasha on for her drunken performance.

Natasha effortlessly moves to the beat resounding throughout the Compound, playing up to the chants of her name as she swings her arms in calculated movements to the rest of her body.

Each sway of her hips allows her to sink further into her routine, losing herself in the music.

Yelena attempts to catch Natasha’s attention, though the music easily overpowers any protests made, not that Natasha would listen to reason anyway.

Natasha rubs her hands across the darkened material of her dress, accentuating her features concealed by the tailored covering.

You can only watch in disbelief from the side, mortified that the situation has escalated so quickly.

As the music continues, so does Natasha’s movements. She picks up in confidence and drops her knees to surge back up into a twirl, earning a chorus of cheers.

As Natasha drops to her knees completely in front of you, she uses her focused gaze to study you; choosing to thrash her arms and body in rhythmic ways. You shake your head at her behaviour, especially when she chooses to caress your face with a gentle hand before pushing it away suddenly, attempting to get a reaction out of you.

Failing to do so, Natasha shrugs and manoeuvres herself back on her hands and knees, using the flat surface of the table to assist her movements easily. She lazily lets her hair dangle down as she continues to move her body to the music.

With a forceful flip of her head, she resumes a standing position, allowing her feet to mindlessly move for her. Though, the surrounding crowd heightens as the song goes on, causing spillages from glasses to splash wherever they may please. Natasha’s foot catches on a spillage of Vodka, causing her to slip off the table.

You instantly unfold your arms and catch her before she can hit the floor. The crowd failed to notice her fall, too engrossed in the music and atmosphere.

Natasha wraps her arms around your neck as you attempt to stand her up. However, from her drunken state and constant twirls, her head takes a turn for the worst and sends her vision spinning. She chooses to fully relax into your arms, refusing to stand.

Yelena grabs Natasha’s arm in order to pull her up some more, “This is not like her at all, I do not know what to do.” Yelena announces, worried for her Sister.

“Lena, I’ll look after her and make sure she is okay. You go find the others and try and get everyone to go home.” You offer to Yelena, knowing her increased worry may not be the best for the situation regarding Natasha currently.

Yelena nods and gives you a grateful smile; briefly hugging Natasha before making her way across the room.

Having time to ground herself, Natasha stands up slightly. You move a steady arm under her as she wraps one arm across your shoulder, giving her the guidance needed to stagger out from the crowds.

As Natasha is incredibly unsteady on her feet, her constant sways and staggers resort to you practically carrying her to the elevator; deducing that stairs to the Avenger’s living quarters may not be suitable for Natasha at this moment in time.

Taking the last steps towards the elevator doors, you tighten your grip on Natasha as you use your free arm to press the ‘call’ button for the elevator.

In the distance the music slowly dies down, allowing you to hear Natasha’s words, “That was such a good party, we should do more things like that, huh y/n/n.”

You find yourself agreeing with Natasha, hoping to keep her awake enough and in light spirits to make the journey back to her room easier.

As the doors open, you guide Natasha forward, until she refuses your help and leans against the bar fixed onto the wall of the modern elevator. You make a point to stay close to her, knowing her confidence in her own balance is greatly misjudged.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, can you take us to the living quarters level please?” You input your desired floor choice to the A.I. system, receiving confirmation.

“No, let’s go up to the roof, the stars will be out and we can look at each and every one of them.” Natasha slurs out.

You shake your head at her words, “I think what you need is sleep.” You direct towards an unimpressed Natasha.

She pouts her lip in challenge at your words, “Well maybe sleep needs me, did you consider that y/n?” Natasha asks seriously, causing you to chuckle at her confusing remark.

“I do apologise Nat, how silly of me for not considering that option.” You play along, allowing Natasha to rest her head on your shoulder at your agreement.

“Mhm, very silly. Hey J.A.R.V.I.S, did you see me dance?” Natasha sleepily questions the A.I. as the elevator shifts in movement to journey upwards towards the correct floor.

“Indeed Miss Romanoff, it was rather… splendid.”

Natasha closes her eyes and beams at J.A.R.V.I.S’ words, earning an eye roll from you, not forgetting the stress it caused to Yelena and yourself.

As you arrive at the designated floor, you whisper to Natasha in order to not disturb the serenity created from the sudden silence, “Hey, we’re here.”

Natasha intakes a sharp breath through her nose as she goes to move forward, though this time she reaches out for your help- which you gladly provide.

You pace yourself towards Natasha’s bedroom door, only experiencing the odd trip from her unsteady feet.

Once you make it, you’re stopped by Natasha’s curious questioning, “Why are we here? This isn’t my door.”

You frown at her words, “What do you mean? This is your door Nat.”

Natasha shakes her head defiantly, “No, this isn’t my door, my door is charcoal coloured.”

You look towards the charcoal door in front of you, smirking at the realisation that the alcohol isn’t done influencing Natasha’s serious nature.

“Well if it isn’t your door, who’s is it?” You question.

Natasha studies your face intently, quite possibly attempting to gauge an answer from you, “Hmm, I guess we’ll never know.” Natasha sighs out eventually.

You hum in agreement as you input Natasha’s passcode on the Lock Screen sealing the door- having exchanged each other’s passcodes for any late night visits the pair of you have picked up on along the months of your ever-growing friendship.

Once the code is accepted and a successful beep is heard, you push down on the handle of the door and enter Natasha’s well organised room.

Natasha gazes in astonishment at the tech, apparently never having seen it before- rejecting the possibility of her daily use of the tech to enter and lock her own bedroom.

As she slurs out her pure amazement at the action carried out, you guide her into her room and gently allow her to sit on her bed, moving to switch on the closest light.

As the desk light partially illuminates the room, Natasha flinches at the bright source, grumbling some curses at the pain straining her eyes.

She uses her hands to rub at her eyes in an attempt to work out the pain, unknowingly smudging her once perfectly kept mascara across her eyes.

As she looks up at you, you notice her make-up predicament and move towards her en suite to fetch several make-up wipes to remove the excess marks now smeared across her face.

“Come here.” You say as you sit next to her, guiding her gaze towards you as you gently move the damp wipe across her face delicately.

Natasha closes her eyes and relaxes into your movements, not having the energy to do much else and feeling the initial buzz of the alcohol wearing off.

As you continue to clear her face, she mumbles out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“What for?” You speak gently as you concentrate on your task.

Natasha opens her eyes once she feels your movements stop, reaching for another wipe to remove her lipstick, “For looking after me, for always being there for me. For being you.” She lets out slowly.

“Always Nat, you’re one of the most important people in my life, I’d do anything to be there for you.”

Natasha’s head suddenly lolls to the side, causing you to put your hands up either side of her to prevent her from falling until she steadies herself- tiredness settling in.

As a few seconds pass for Natasha to regain herself, she speaks once more, “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier when you tried to help me.”

You wave a hand to dismiss her words, “Don’t worry about it, you were upset and Tony was being an asshole. I get it.”

As you go to bunch the used and now dried out make-up wipes, Natasha suddenly finds herself asking, “W-would you maybe stay the night?”

Her eyes widen momentarily in fear of rejection, until you smile at her words, “Yeah, of course I will.”

Natasha feels a bubbling of excitement in her stomach, with having you taking care of her and willing to stay, she uses her missed opportunity from earlier in the day to fuel her newfound confidence from what she can only assume to be the alcohol, “Y/n, I have feelings for you. Not like a best friend kind of way, more of a I want to spend every waking minute of everyday loving you kind of way.-“

You freeze in your place, never expecting those words to ever leave Natasha’s mouth- of course you’ve hoped for them, but to hear them out loud is everything you could have dreamed for and more.

Unfortunately for Natasha, she doesn’t have insight to your mind and fails to notice the now heart fluttering thoughts bursting with the idea that Natasha reciprocates your love clouding your mind.

Natasha retreats into herself, silently scolding herself for being so careless with her emotions. How could she be so naive to think you’d feel the same way, she should have never assumed you’d automatically understand her love for you. She should have never got into this state because now she could have cost herself your friendship.

Natasha continues to torment herself, unwillingly reliving the haunting lessons and words originating from the Red Room itself.

That is until you speak up, “Natasha, I have feelings for you too-“

Natasha meets your gaze with tear filled eyes, to which you instantly move closer to wipe away any that dare to escape.

She can’t help the sobs that escape her, pure relief of knowing you feel the same way about her as she does for you.

You steadily bring her into a hug, choosing to shuffle the two of you back towards the headboard of the bed and seeking a more comfortable position.

Natasha moves herself to lay against your side as you draw soothing circles across her arm. From the mixed emotions of the night and the alcohol, it was bound to end in tears, she’s just thankful to have you here to comfort her.

“I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way.” Natasha sniffles out, causing you to give her a reassuring squeeze.

“Nat, I’ve always known how much I love you. Everything about you is so captivating. You never fail to make me smile or laugh; you’re always there for me when I need you. You make me want to be the best version of myself Natasha. I know I’d be lost without you, because without you Nat, life would lose all meaning. You give me so much to look forward to, it was just being able to hang out with you and see your mesmerising smile in the morning; that or some sarcastic remark that I should probably take offence towards but you’re so quick witted, I’ll let it slide. Though now, I get to look forward to so much more, like-“

You choose to look down and come to the realisation that Natasha is asleep, soft snores sounding from her as she uses half of your body as a designated pillow.

Refusing to disturb her peacefulness, you relax your body into the mattress and allow a form of slumber to overcome you, not before whispering a soft ‘goodnight’ to Natasha, finally knowing that the woman that stole your heart all those months ago, is the woman you’ll happily love for the remainder of your days.

———-

A soft heat spreads across your cheek as your eyes flutter open from the sunlight that trickles through the gaps of open blinds across the room from you.

In your sleepy haziness, it takes you a moment to register your surroundings, until the events of the previous night come rushing back to you.

A slight shift from the woman beside you catches your attention, as does the sticky note attached to her shoulder. You slowly move to peel it away, successfully not disturbing Natasha as you move to read the note.

‘It is about time you two declared your undying love for each other!

Y/n, thank you for taking care of Natasha and always being someone we can all rely on.

Sestra, I have left some painkillers and water on the side for your undoubtedly raging headache- and yes I will be back in the morning to remind you of all the embarrassing things you got up to.

Lena. ’

You smile at the handwritten note, looking over to see the stated painkiller and water combo for Natasha’s awaiting hangover on her desk- Yelena must have come in to check on Natasha after everyone went home.

Your thoughts are disturbed when a rather groggy Natasha speaks, “My head feels as though the Hulk himself has played football with it.”

You chuckle at Natasha’s words, loving the way she snuggles further into your embrace. As you are about to ask Natasha how she is feeling, she beats you to the mark with her own question.

“So, you love me huh?” Natasha suddenly asks.

You look down to see her eyes now fixated on your face, “I wasn’t sure if you would have remembered.” You let out, relieved beyond compare that Natasha recalled the conversation from the night before.

“Of course I do, when you love someone for all that time and they say it back; you make a point to remember it y/n/n.” Natasha smiles up at you, admiring your beauty up close, desperate to stay in this moment forever- despite the throbbing head and burning throat.

“Now, if you really do love me, then you’ll get me some painkillers and-“

“Already taken care of.” You pass Natasha the note left behind by Yelena. She squints furiously as she attempts to decipher Yelena’s note, widening her eyes and closing them several times to work the tiredness out of them.

Natasha groans in displeasure once she reaches the end of the note, “Oh god, was I really that bad last night?” She asks as she uses the note to cover her embarrassed features.

You tilt your head in pretend thought, “Well… yes, you were very soft and it was quite the experience but don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Natasha playfully smacks your arm, moving herself to hide her head under her pillow to mumble out a false ‘I hate you’.

You laugh as you remove the pillow from her face and lean down to see her, taking care not to disturb her pained head too much, “I love you too.” You reply in the same manner as Natasha, allowing her to lean up and place a soft, yet well worth the wait kiss on your lips.

As you pull away, you fail to disguise the blush spreading across your face; using Natasha’s tactic of using the pillow to shield your face from her teasing manner.

A few stolen kisses; many whispered ‘I love you’s’ and unlimited heartwarming hugs later, you could finally admit that life couldn’t be more perfect.

It’s safe to say that you’re officially drunk on love.

————————

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