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nataliasquote · 16 days

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Midas Touch | n romanoff

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #wlw #angst #AU #forbidden love #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #rich wife aesthetic #natasha romanoff hot #black widow

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My Songbird | 1 | n romanoff

Summary: The best days of high school happen in summer and Willow doesn’t want these days to end. Life just feels sweeter this way

Warnings: homophobia (it’s set in the 70s), casual weed consumption, mentions of traditional negative parenting, underage drinking

Pairings: Natasha x Willow (O!C)

wc: 4.7k

note: the first part of the ‘My Songbird’ series! I’m so excited to get this underway just in time for spring. Whilst this does include the secret relationship between Natasha and Willow, this story will also follow Willow’s struggles of not fitting in with society and her parents’ views :)

-⧗-

There was no better feeling than this.

The wind flying through her hair that streamed behind her as she peddled faster down the street and blew the ties that held her top closed at her front. The sun was warm and kissed the skin on her knees through the branches as she cycled beneath them, taking a harsh right down the streets she knew so well.

She waved to her neighbours and poked her tongue out at the kids who yelled out her name, busy playing with the hosepipe to try and cool off from the beating midday sun. Sweat beaded across her cheeks but she didn’t care. It was just as at home there as her freckles were, brought on by weeks of laying out in the sun.

Her bike clattered to the ground and she sprinted off the second her wheels hit the long grass, ignoring the way the blades tickled her bare legs. She heard laughing and shouting and the sound of water.

The sounds of her summer.

“Willow! What took you so long!” A voice yelled from the middle of the river the moment she came into view. The girl grinned and dropped her bag at the base of the large tree they always sat under.

“I’m sorry! Pa wanted my help in the shop!” She untied her white cross-over top and wriggled out of her denim shorts, tossing them messily in a pile on her backpack along with her converse. A floral orange bikini now adorned her body and she took a couple of steps back before running to the riverbank edge and jumping into the water, completely soaking everyone else inside.

Willow broke the surface of the water and slicked her unruly hair back out of her face, basking in how delicious the heat of the sun felt on her wet skin.

Natasha, who was spitting water out of her mouth thanks to her, now watched on with a slack jaw, almost drooling at the way the sunlight caught her girlfriend. These weeks in the sun had done wonders for her complexion and she glowed almost golden, the lighter highlights in her dark hair still catching the light even wet.

“You’re not allowed to do that when everyone is watching,” she hissed, sneaking up behind Willow and wrapping her arms around her waist under the water. The girl blushed and pressed a kiss to Natasha’s lips before looping an arm around her shoulder and turning to the rest of their friends with a grin.

“What did I miss?” She asked, looking at Wanda mostly, who was the biggest gossip in their group. She somehow knew the weirdest secrets about everyone in the town, sometimes even before they knew themselves.

“Bucky managed to break the rope swing and I found out yesterday night that Carol and Valk made out at Tony’s party.”

Willow’s jaw dropped and she turned to Natasha who just nodded in confirmation.

“Remind me to never be late again!”

Wanda chuckled. “You know that never works.”

Willow looked shocked and shoved water her way, accidentally imitating a full blown water fight. It sprayed everywhere, even soaking Steve’s clothes that were folded the closest to the water’s edge. They all panted hard, the laughter breaking out amongst them not helping them to catch their breath. Eventually everyone retired back to the tree, lounging around in the bathing suits in the comfort of the shade.

Natasha leaned up against the bark and stretched her legs out in front of her, to which Willow immediately seized her spot on Natasha’s thighs, resting her head on her plush skin. Her wet hair felt slightly gross but the redhead didn’t mind, only smirking down at her whenever their eyes met. Willow flung one arm over her face to try and shield the sun. What a stupid day to forget sunglasses.

Snacks were shared around; hard candies, chips, cola and several boxes of fruit courtesy of Steve’s mother. Willow sucked on a cherry flavoured lollipop and blinked up at Natasha, her lashes still dark from the water. Natasha gritted her teeth and pulled the red candy out of her girlfriend’s mouth, wiping the smirk clean off her face.

“I know you know what you’re doing,” she said, waving the treat in front of her face. But Willow just raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, laying her red stained tongue flat against her bottom lip and chin. The others didn’t pay attention to the two girls, very much used to their way of flirting.

“You are unbelievable,” Natasha gave in and pressed the round lollipop against Willow’s tongue, much to the brunette’s delight. She wrapped her lips around it and hollowed her cheeks, never once breaking eye contact. “Stop it.”

Willow shrugged but couldn’t hide her smile so she sat up and settled between Nat’s legs, tugging her arms around her waist so they rested together on her stomach.

“You guys want one?” Wanda reached into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out three joints, holding them like a winning set of cards in poker. Steve quickly shook his head, never one to dabble in that. Bucky accepted, as did Natasha, classically.

“Thanks Wands,” Natasha said as she accepted the joint, holding it out for the other girl to light. “Wanna shotgun me, baby?”

Willow did not need to be told twice. She placed her lollipop back in the wrapper for safe keeping and straddled Nat’s lap, waiting for her to inhale. She opened her mouth and accepted the smoke that Natasha pushed into it, goosebumps igniting along her damp skin at the hand now placed on the curve of her lower back. She exhaled away from Natasha’s face and tilted her head up to the sky, letting out another breath.

They shotgunned a few more hits before Willow tapped out, the light buzzy feeling in her head enough for now. Her father would go crazy if he knew she was smoking like this so she had to keep it to a minimum when he was home. Plus, her high came from watching Natasha take her own hits, the joint resting casually in her fingers as she rested back against the tree trunk. She was so effortlessly cool that Willow just wanted to kiss her and never stop.

“You’re all going to Tony’s again later, right?” Wands asked, only to be met with a host of nods. Being seventeen and on summer break meant no responsibilities and more parties. And whilst Tony was a stuck up asshole, he did host the best parties, no questions asked.

“I can get my sister to give us lifts home if you need?” Bucky offered, snuffing out his joint and leaning back on his elbows. If Willow ever thought about dating a guy, his physique would have her drooling, but now she just appreciated it like any normal person would.

“Please!” She said. “No one is getting out of drinking tonight. I didn’t steal a bottle of cherry schnapps for nothing.” One bottle from her father’s shelf wouldn’t be missed, right? “Are you selling tonight?” This was directed at Wanda who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Probably. The crowds are big enough there and they’re all rich enough so I can really overcharge.” The typical hippie, Wanda sold weed at many of the parties, the floral bag tied around her hips far from an innocent coin purse. “If I make big then we are hitting the carnival next week hard!”

“That’s next week?” Willow asked, her eyes widening in surprise. The days all blurred into one during summer and she wasn’t even sure what day it was today. But it didn’t matter to her. “Steve, you are going down at Bucket Ball.” She narrowed her eyes and he did the same

“You’re sure about that?”

“Deathly.” Willow was never serious and her smile broke her focus, making her lose the rather short game of no blinking. Steve just raised his hands in surrender and Willow leaned back against Natasha’s bikini clad chest, muttering to herself about how she was going to beat him.

The group lounged around in the sun until it slowly began to set. Willow slipped her shorts on over her still damp bikini but stuffed her top into her backpack, really not bothered about how little clothing she had on. And Natasha definitely didn’t complain. They all pedalled home to their separate locations except Willow and Natasha, who made a quick pitstop at the Romanoff household so Nat could grab her clothes and everything else she needed to get ready. Willow sat on the curb with her legs outstretched, tapping the toes of her shoes together as she waited for Nat. Her hair had dried a frizzy, curly mess but she really didn’t care.

Natasha came running out five minutes later, her backpack a lot more full than it was before. They hopped on their bikes and raced each other back to Willow’s, Nat winning by a fraction of second. It wasn’t fair really, she was on the closest side of the road.

Their bikes were abandoned on the front lawn before they both raced up the front steps, giggling like children as they crashed into the house. Nat grabbed Willow by the waist and kissed her cheek and nose before darting in the kitchen and leaving behind a blushing mess of a girl.

Mrs Jenkins was hunched over a chair and trying unsuccessfully to get a pouty four year old to each the crackers on his plate. Willow’s little brother was adorable and his eyes lit up as Natasha gave him a small wave as she entered.

“Hi Mrs Jenkins, Hi Elliot,” she said, taking a seat on the bench under the window. “How are you?”

“Oh Natasha, how many times have I told you to call me Nancy! We are far past those formalities.” She always greeted the young girl with a tight hug and it truly was one of Natasha’s favourite greetings. The woman was so soft and warm, so maternal, and she really tried to savour the hugs she received. “I’m good, thank you dear. You’re looking well, such rosy cheeks.”

Natasha smiled and ducked slightly behind her hair, subconsciously hiding behind her hair. “Willow and I had a race back here and it’s already super hot outside, as you know. Elliot’s grown so fast! You’re such a big boy already!”

Nancy smiled fondly at her son and stroked his blonde hair back away from his forehead, having given up on making him eat his snack. He was fixated on Natasha, as usual, so any attempts she made were fruitless.

“He’s growing up too fast, that’s for sure.” Both women laughed. “Can you believe he’ll be five by the end of summer?”

Natasha shook her head and crossed her legs beneath her. “I remember when he was a baby and Willow would always complain about how much he cried.” Nancy looked as if to say ‘that’s about right’. “I’m always available to babysit him if you need me to.”

“Your mother is so lucky to have you, Natasha. I need to know where I went wrong with this one.” She jabbed her thumb over at Willow who had hopped up onto the counter and taken an apple from the fruit bowl beside her. She was oblivious to the fact that she was being talked about and crunched happily before biting a small piece off to pass to her brother in front of her. Typical. Of course he accepted food from her.

“You didn’t go wrong anywhere with her,” Natasha said in a softer tone, enamoured by how gentle Willow was with her baby brother. She was a wild soul but that suddenly switched when she was around him and as much as Natasha loved the thrill of the whirlwind that was her girlfriend, her tender side was so special because it was so rare and real.

Mrs Jenkins glanced over her shoulder towards the living room with a wary look, making sure her husband was out of earshot. “Don’t let James hear me say this, but I’m glad you’re able to tame her. I was worried she’d never settle down but you’ve worked magic with her somehow.”

It was really hard being anything but heterosexual in this day and age, and to most people in the town, including Willow’s father Jameson, Natasha and Willow were nothing more than best friends. Their friendship group really didn’t care who dated who, and Willow’s mom was strangely accepting, but that was about the extent of it. Public displays of affection were certainly limited.

“I am here, you know? I can hear you.” The disgruntled girl spoke up.

“I know,” her mother replied. “And get off my counter, how many times have I told you?”

“But it’s comfy,” Willow muttered to herself as she reluctantly slid off and leaned against the cupboards instead.

“I don’t care. Chairs were invented for that reason. Even Elliot knows that.”

“Sure sure, compare me to the golden child, why don’t you.” She disappeared out of the kitchen and Nancy rolled her eyes lightly. She really could never win with Willow. Her stubborn nature could not be tainted, no matter how hard anyone tried.

“There’s a party later so I should probably go and get ready,” Natasha said, looking for a reason to excuse herself. Nancy waved her on and told her that their dinner would be brought to Willow’s room once it was ready. Always looking after her children, and this extended to Natasha too, whenever she was around.

The crackly sound of Silver Springs rang gently through the record player as Willow dropped the needle and flipped onto her quilt, screwing up her pillow in her arms. Her bikini stuck to her skin uncomfortably but she barely noticed it. The way all the muscles in her back simultaneously relaxed as she lay down felt a lot better and she let out a small groan.

“Hey birdy,” Natasha said as she sat down on the bed beside her, tracing gentle shapes on the exposed skin of her back. “You’re the golden child to me, you know that, right?”

Wilow scrunched her nose up at the old nickname, having not heard it in years. Natasha started using it after Willow kept wearing tops with large sleeves that closely resembled wings, and it weirdly stuck.

“I don’t need to be the golden child,” she grumbled. “I’m leaving here as soon as I can, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Wherever you go, I go.” Natasha held out her pinky and linked with Willow’s, kissing their interlocked fingers softly. “I’ve always had a soft spot for rebellious girls.”

“Well don’t let my father hear you say that.”

Double checking that the bedroom door was indeed closed, Natasha leaned down and pressed her lips to Willow’s and cupped her jaw, guiding her in a kiss that left them both breathless. It was only quick, that’s all they could do. A heavy make out would be saved for later that evening, in some closed off room in Tony’s house where they could be alone with each other for as long as they wanted. And no interruptions.

“We wouldn’t want him to know how much of a blushing mess I make his daughter.”

Willow smirked and reached her hand up to stroke Natasha’s freckled cheek. “He’d kill you with his bare hands. And then probably send me to a nunnery or boarding school in Switzerland.”

“My birdy, a nun? Pigs will fly before that could ever be a possibility.” Willow opened her mouth to speak and then realised Natasha was indeed right, and she didn’t like that. Hooking her legs around Nat’s hips, their bodies swiftly flipped over so Willow was now on top and she smiled cockily before climbing off her completely and wandering over to her window.

“He probably wishes there’s somewhere that would turn me into a son that he can manipulate into taking over the family business,” she muttered, mainly to herself but Natasha still heard her words over the music. The way Willow was treated by her father was unfair, but unfortunately common. Jameson Jenkins didn’t get a first born son who could help him run the shop, so he resented his daughter from the moment she was born. And her fiery spirit certainly didn’t help her case either.

“If that was the case, then we’d cease to exist. Because as much as I like you, I could not date a guy.” There was an underlying seriousness to Nat’s words and she gently took Willow’s hand, looking over every detail on the face she could draw in her sleep. “I benefit from his loss, really.” There was a sparkle in Natasha’s eyes and Willow couldn’t help but laugh. That girl always knew how to make light of a dire situation.

“Have fun with that thought whilst I go shower.” Natasha dropped her hand and watched her leave before wandering over to the old crate that Willow used to store her records. The more well played ones donned dog eared covers, and Natasha sifted through these to find what she was looking for. Despite her love for Fleetwood Mac, Natasha was forever a Zeppelin and Hendricks girl, and the opening riff of ‘Fool in the Rain’ had her grinning madly as it cracked away on the record player.

Spinning and dancing around the room on her toes, the redhead made her way over to Willow’s closet and sifted through the clothes, deciding that she would be the one to pick what her girl would be wearing to the party. A brown mini skirt caught her eye and she tossed it onto the bed behind her, a few more items following quickly in its wake.

Trusty bell bottoms to match her own, a pair of flared striped pants, a few of the cross over tops that Willow was so obsessed with, and a denim jumpsuit that had Natasha biting her lip. It looked small on the hanger and she knew instantly how good it would hug her curves, and the halter neck and open back still daring enough to suit Willow’s madness.

All the other clothes seemed mediocre in comparison and Natasha quickly placed them back in the closet, leaving her new favourite item of clothing hanging casually on the doorknob. Her own outfit hung opposite to avoid wrinkles and even without seeing them on she knew they’d be looking hot tonight.

The bedroom door opening behind her made her jump and Willow poked her head around it sheepishly, her wet hair falling over her shoulder. “Did I hit you?”

“No, you just scared me.”

Willow hummed and grabbed the comb from her dresser to start painstakingly detangling her curls. Clad in nothing but a faded old oversized surfing tshirt courtesy of Wanda’s many trips around the world, Natasha had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the bare expanse of Willow’s legs. They were still damp from her shower and her skin looked so soft she just-

“Stop staring and go shower. You smell like the river and it’s bad.” Willow smirked at Natasha through the mirror in front of her and the redhead glared but disappeared into the bathroom anyway without another word.

Willow opened the large windows on the far side of her bedroom to allow the evening breeze to flow into her room. Golden hour had begun and it basked her room in a gorgeous orange glow, catching on the coloured glass shards that were strung up around her mirror.

Her mother slipped a tray of pasta and vegetables through her door which Willow gratefully accepted and sat cross legged on her floor to begin eating. Call her weird, but one of the best feelings was the way her hair slowly dried in the warm breeze. It was just so calming, so relaxing.

Natasha returned ten minutes later and they quickly ate, chatting and gossiping between each mouthful. Her father poked his head through the door to grunt a quick hello, but Y/n didn’t entertain that so he swiftly left. Natasha just smiled politely when he acknowledged her presence.

“I see you already picked out my outfit,” Willow said as her fork hovered by her lips. A tomato fell off but she didn’t bother trying to retrieve it so Natasha quickly swiped it up. “I like it.”

“Me too. And I’m not in the mood to watch you try on twenty different outfits, no matter how hot you look in them all.” Willow shot her a look and blew a stray curl out of her face. “Don’t give me that, birdy, you know that’s exactly what would have happened.”

“Maybe I am like my father, because he hates smartasses too!” She jabbed her fork in Natasha’s direction, bearing her teeth at the laughing redhead leaning against the legs of her vanity.

“You won’t hate me when I’m done with you,” Natasha answered, suddenly jumping up and pulling Willow over to the bed. “Lie down, I want to do your makeup.” Natasha pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her lap, grabbing her makeup pouch that had been tossed onto the comforter. Willow didn’t protest, or rather she couldn’t, not with Natasha’s body weight pinning her down.

The record had stopping playing but neither of them moved to flip it over, so the sounds of squeals and laughter drifted in through the open window, families spending their summer evenings in their spacious back yards. Willow closed her eyes as Natasha swiped her brush over her lips, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Nat didn’t add much makeup, not wanting to take away from her sunkissed natural beauty. A small smear of blush, some orange and brown on her lids and a stroke of mascara. Subtle, but just enough to highlight her best features.

The redhead sat back on Willow’s thighs and admired her handiwork, nodding to herself with her lip pulled between her teeth. “Not bad, not bad.”

“Not bad?” Willow exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting to. “Natasha you better not have mucked up my face!”

“Better see for yourself.” She moved to the side so Willow could race over to her mirror, expecting to see an absolute wreckage judging by Natasha’s reaction. But what she found was the simplest yet most effective make up look she’d had in a long time and she closed one eye to examine the soft orange hue.

“Nat, this looks so cool! Don’t scare me like that again.” She turned around with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side.

“I’m sorry, but your reactions just make it so much fun.” Their relationship was full of jokes and banter, bouncing off each other with smart remarks and quick comebacks. That’s how they managed to pull off the best friend card so well. They really were the best of friends.

Willow flipped the record and they both finished getting ready, wriggling into their outfits and touching up their hair as the cherry print alarm clock on Willow’s bedside table kept reminding them how late they were.

Natasha had blow dried her hair so it now tumbled around her shoulders in voluminous waves, combined with her dark winged eye liner and dark red top to make Willow pause with a hair tie between her teeth.

“Please never stop wearing those jeans,” was all she said before turning back to the mirror to finish pinning up her rather messy half up style. Willow had let them air dry so they were not uniformed at all, but the unruly look suited her far better.

“These?” Natasha turned to the side and smoothed her hands over her butt, frowning at the way the tight back material hugged her figure. “Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“Never.” Willow didn’t even turn around. Asking Nat to wear the jeans was purely a selfish move and she would stand by that until her dying day. “Can you grab my shoes?”

“Sneakers or heels?” Natasha held up a red pair of platform heels that complimented her top nicely but Willow turned her nose up. “Sneakers it is.”

“I pick comfort any day.” Hair done, lips glossed, sneakers laced, they ran down the stairs at the sound of a honk, Willow smuggling the bottle of cherry schnapps inside her jacket that she was going to ditch the moment they got into the car.

Bucky waved from the passenger seat as the girls sprinted across the lawn, leaping over their bikes that they’d thrown down earlier. Willow climbed into the back and Natasha followed, pulling the cab door shut of the red Ford F250.

“You ladies look good,” Bucky’s sister, Becca, called out. She worked in the mechanic shop on the edge of town and was a few years older than the rest of them but still knew how to have a good time. Plus she was the only one with a fully functioning car after Steve totalled his at a stop sign.

“Thanks, Bec. You don’t look so bad yourself Bucky.”

The man in question tugged at the collar of his shirt proudly. “What can I say, decided to make the effort. We won’t be this young forever.”

Willow and Nat shared a look before they started chuckling. “You sound like an old man.”

“Sometimes I think he is,” Becca agreed, smiling at the girls in her mirror.

“Does that mean you need picking up at ten tonight?” Natasha teased, knowing full well that the time was nine pm. She just loved to rile him up.

“Can we kick them out here?” Bucky asked as they pulled up to a stop light. “Just open the door and make them walk the rest of the way?”

“No, but you can walk if you want to.” The downside of having an older sister… she always sided with everyone else. Bucky sank into his seat and muttered under his breath, disgruntled. Or, that was until Willow waved a bottle in front of his face.

“Don’t be sad, it’s party time. You get the first sip.” He craned around to smile at her before untwisting the cap and taking a rather big gulp from the bottle. The taste wasn’t the best but he took another sip before handing it back. Natasha was next, knocking back hers like a true professional. “Ok please leave some for me!”

“Don’t worry birdy, I will.”

Willow seized her bottle from Natasha’s grip and tucked it between the door and her body, away from everyone. “Bec, I would offer you some but I don’t want to be dragged down with you if you get pulled over. I wouldn’t be allowed to see Wanda ever again.” Wanda’s father was a cop, which was ironic considering the illegal activities his daughter was the centre of right under his nose.

“You’re all good, Willow. I don’t know how you kids drink that stuff.”

Willow sank back against her seat, the leather sticking to her exposed back. “It’s definitely a Barnes thing, this ‘old person’ talk,” she muttered to Natasha who snorted. “You’d think I was visiting my grandparents.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Good. Glad to see your old age hasn’t affected your hearing.” If Becca wasn’t driving she would have reached behind and slapped Willow, who definitely deserved it. Her cocky smirk in triumph was infuriating to say the least and Natasha was thoroughly entertained.

Luckily for them, the Stark’s long drive came into view and the truck started to crawl up the gravel driveway, bumping over the uneven ground.

Tony Stark lived on the largest estate in the town. His parents were both in business and spent a large part of their year in the city, leaving their house and land to the questionable hands of their twenty year old son. Whether they knew of what went on whilst they were away, nobody knew, but Tony’s parties were unbeatable and unmissable.

The three of them piled out of the truck and waved goodbye to Becca before they assessed the scene in front of them. There were people everywhere; some they recognised, some they didn’t. But the unfamiliar faces didn’t deter them and Willow slipped her fingers into Natasha’s as they walked into the main entrance.

With the warm summer night air, the sound of good music and dancing, and Natasha right by her side, Willow felt on top of the world. She hated the small town life but wouldn’t trade this summer for the world.

#my songbird au #natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x o!c #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #steve rogers #70s #70s aesthetic

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