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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

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it came like a postcard | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter twelve | chapter thirteen: she stayed the same

chapter summary: there was nothing more bitterly endearing than the postcards she'd receive of you every year. postcards from your travels, milestones, everyday life. a life that she was not a part of anymore. a life that she was exiled from until she finally sees you again.

warnings: angst; non-aggressive fighting, minimal shouting, one-sided anger, guilt. smut; dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader | minimal mommy kink, degradation, slight choking, hair-pulling, spanking, light hints of exhibitionism. cheating, possessiveness

a/n: and she lives!!! hi! i'm alive. i know i've been completely m.i.a for 2 months, but i have been terribly busy, and i desperately needed to take time for myself. regardless, i am back. and i really do thank you for the anons who worry about me, and the people who asked how i've been. i see those messages, i just didn't have the mental capacity to reply yet, but really it means a lot that people care enough to ask. i love you all always! mwa

hands tugged at your hair.

you chanted billy's name in your head.

this was supposed to be done in your honeymoon. but you knew your fiance would never have it in him to pull your hair so hard that your body is forced to arch back.

billy billy billy billy billy billy billy billy billy.

"children always think they do it better than their parents. always so full of themselves," she whispered in your ear, her hand snaking to wrap around your throat to hold you harder against her chest, her lips on your ear. your left knee was barely staying atop your vanity, your arm was extended to hold yourself up, pushing against the mirror while your other was reaching back for her neck.

for a moment, you got a glimpse of yourself; your mouth open, your back arched, your lace—oh so expensive—dress hiked up to your hips, and your boyfriend's mother whispering in your ear: "but let's be honest. mothers always do best."

and then with some repulse, she curls her fingers inside you. and you have let the loudest moan you have ever in years.

"aww," she pitied. "you. fucking. whore. you missed me haven't you?"

you don't know how you got there. but she does. she remembers every second that led up to that moment right there.

from the christmas cards billy would send home of the two of you kissing, or holding hands, or on some trip, to finally, an invitation.

she traced your golden name on the front of the card, and every letter she knew you so carefully wrote for every invite. she ran her fingers through the hard paper, most especially the front. basking in its memory of your touch, hoping that she may feel the last bit of the touch you left on it.

and then suddenly, she's there. her son, the same one she hadn't seen in so long was there. he was near the front shaking hands with the entering guests. she was at the back, near the snacks table. she was holding a glass of champagne, an arm crossed over her body.

and then he saw her.

the way he walked down the aisle towards her in his white suit, and a black handkerchief so neatly tucked in his pocket. his hair slicked back, his shoulders broader, him a little taller.

he extends his hand for a handshake before he gently pulled himself into almost a two second hug that merely truly was a pat on the back and a gentle hi.

"i didn't think you'd come," he said.

"i was invited, wasn't i?"

he cleared his throat, looking away. "yes," he says.

there was a silent pause. "where's the lucky girl?" she asks, taking a sip of her drink.

she sensed hesitation in him. she knew he wanted to hug her, to hold her, to feel her motherly warmth like he hadn't for a long time. but there was a line between them. while they hadn't talked in years, there was a part of her that wondered if what kept them apart was you. had you told him? if you had, she wouldn't be here wouldn't she? had you told him she made you uncomfortable then? maybe something less worse than her fucking you. had you initiated the no contact?

but who was she kidding really? she knew it's her. it's always her. she forced a wedge between them because she hadn't called. because she hadn't asked how he's been, where he went. because the guilt hit her finally. because she was too much of a coward.

he cleared his throat again. "she wouldn't want to see you," he'd said in his big manly voice.

she was fazed almost—his voice had grown so much. he was no longer the 12 year old who would insist he deserves a bowl of ice cream through the gap between his teeth and his lisp; he was no longer the 18 year old who demanded her to give his bestfriend a better grade.

he was no longer the kid she used to take on midnight motorcycle rides, the kid she'd tuck to bed after reading a children's book to, the kid she'd hug to sleep in her bed in wanda's absence.

he was all grown up. and she should assume. so were you.

and you were.

she knew that because she watched you grow in the postcards she was sent. but it hadn't truly hit her until she found you. until she saw you through your vanity mirror. your face looked more mature, your hair was different. something about what she saw made her think that you were no longer the girl who was struggling to keep it down, laughing while trying to walk the pavement to the door from your dinner date.

so much of you had changed. and she knew that from a mere glimpse of you.

and then she caught your eye.

she hadn't realized how much more your face could drop until she saw it happen. it's like your face became too foreign of your smile. like you hadn't done it properly for awhile.

"mrs. romanoff," you said.

she felt chills, a sharp line that went down her back, and then goosebumps on her arm. mostly she felt something in her heart, a small pinch to the chest at how truly you've grown. away from her, apart from her, distanced from her reach. your voice was a little deeper, more controlled, smoother. more so, it was cold. free of any form of emotion, or love for her name.

you spoke like a stranger. like someone who hadn't told her "i love you". like someone who hadn't memorized her name. like someone who's never said it.

"y/n." she swallowed the lump in her throat. "how are you?"

"i'm good." you tell her. "billy's outside."

"i know, i saw."

"then why are you here?"

you weren't looking at her. in fact, you continued on your routine like she wasn't there at all.

"i wanted to see you."

"why?"

thoughts raced her mind. the words brewed in her stomach, it came up her throat but she swallowed it back down, only allowing a lie to come out of her mouth. "i wanted to congratulate you."

"i think you're better off congratulating your son than your former student, don't you think?"

she didn't say anything. she couldn't. but she couldn't leave either. she's here. she's a few steps away from you. seven years she's waited for this. what is stopping her? why couldn't she say more? why couldn't she come closer?

"why did you leave?" she finally said after what felt like an eternity. "why did you leave me, y/n?"

you froze.

slowly, you turned to face her. "you are the last person to ever have the right to ask me that."

"i always do what i don't have the right to, don't i?"

you chuckled bitterly. "you do," you tell her. "somehow, i get the sense you're proud of it."

"makes life more fun."

"was it fun?"

"what?

"was it entertaining to you, mrs. romanoff?" anger was starting to build up your voice. memories of your freshman year flashed through your mind.

"what is?"

and she seemed as clueless as ever. so you stopped. you took a deep breath, let yourself calm down for a bit. and you swallowed every word that now might be your only chance of saying.

'it's been seven years.' you reminded yourself in your head. 'i'm happy with billy. i don't need this. i've moved on.'

except you haven't. you wanted to scream at her. you were only nineteen. and frankly, you actually loved her. and she used you. she made you betray the two people who cared for you over some revenge she was never entitled to pull you in the middle of.

"i think you should go now," you tell her, unable to look even at her figure through the mirror.

she didn't move. she didn't say anything. she was just standing there, as if waiting.

"mrs. romanoff, i'm sure you and your wife has been assigned seat outside," you say breaking through the silence. "please."

"was that why you left?"

you weren't sure what about her words flipped a switch inside you that all the words, the anger, the feelings, the emotions that you swallowed came hurling back up. but you kept it in. you kept it in your throat just enough that you were able to turn to her slowly, finally meeting the eyes you were so keen on denying you longed for; and tell her in the slowest way possible, "what?".

"was my wife the reason you left?"

your face wrinkled in so much disbelief at how nonchalant she was. at how she asked that as if she were only truly curious without care. more so at how she deliberately left out the questions that she should be asking.

'are you okay?'

'were you okay before?'

'after all these years, are you okay?'

at most, what she should be saying is 'i'm sorry'. but no, who would natasha romanoff be if not an unapologetic disciplinarian who likes to take advantage of her students to get back at her cheating wife.

"you have some nerve, mrs. romanoff," you say with such infliction she physically felt all your rage from just a simple sentence. "you have some nerve even coming here after what you did."

you, at the point, were already facing her, finger pushing at her from across the tight room. your bridesmaids are waiting outside, your mother who's fresh out of rehab for the 9th time, and your stylists who you all made wait so you can escape to the small closet with the vanity and breath.

"you left," she told you with not a hint of anger, or resentment, but rather you got an ounce of condescension as if you were back in her classroom, just the two of you, and she points out a fact you already knew.

it was ironic how it riled you up the same way it used to. but truly, while things remain as stronger than time could ever be, things change. the chill down your spine wasn't like the goosebumps you'd get before. it was sharp, fast. like a calculated knife swiping across your skin just enough to hurt, but never enough to draw blood. there was a pulse not where you used to always find it where it shouldn't be, not between your legs but in your temples.

and suddenly you were back to being the 18 year old demanding that she looks at you. that she stops ignoring you.

except this time, you weren't sure what you were demanding her of. were you demanding that she understands? that she apologizes? that she accepts her fault?

"you used me!" you yelled at her, emotion flowing out of your mouth. "i was ninenteen! i was an innocent kid, and you used me!"

"i—" you didn't know what she was trying to say. was she going to deny it? was she going to apologize?

something inside you regretted that you didn't let her say anything. but you knew, had she looked at you with sympathetic eyes, had she apologized, had her body relaxed, had she looked at you like she'd loved you for the longest time, even if it were as fake as everything she used to show you; all anger will cease.

"it wasn't real." your throat closed. and your tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. and she wasn't doing anything. not frozen—just unwilling to move. and somehow, the way she looked at you, straight through you like she's watching tv, made you realize that... she wouldn't understand. "but it was real to me."

pause.

you hear murmuring outside until it stopped altogether. and then you heard footsteps. then a knock.

"babe, are you ready?"

billy.

it took you all the power you knew you had barely of to tear your gaze away from her and wipe your tears.

"30 minutes baby," you shout at him back before you realized you actually wanted to escape and decided to head for the door to go to your fiancé.

"i'm sure you'd look absolutely perfect," you hear a smile from his voice. "i'll come back in a bit, i'll just talk to the coordinator."

natasha stops you in your tracks right when you were about to pass her. right when your arms were not even an inch apart, so close to brushing but far apart that your skins never touched.

"im sorry," she whispered. you feel her reach for you, then her hand holds yours, and your skin burns against hers with all the longing of the seven years packed with her absence.

you looked at her. it was no crack in her stoicism; it completely shattered before you. and then you finally see her. you see her shoulders drop, and the ends of her lips twitching. you see her emerald green eyes, the way it craves for you; her eyebrows, the way they plead for you. you see her, you see her look at you, you see the way she calls for you.

"please don't go," she whispers so intimately. even in an empty room, she kept it so closely between the two of you. the warmth of her words, the heat of her skin, too close that it melts you.

and while reason fought with you. while wanda's voice repeats a 'she used you' in your head, it was always countered with 'but she won't be here had it not been real'.

her touch lingers. and it burns, and her warmth set you aflame. and you were on fire. your robe felt like it was raging with flames. and your body aches.

with no further thought, you pull her into a searing kiss. your arms took hold of her red locks. shifting constantly, unable to get enough of the feeling of her strands entangled between your fingers.

her hands roam around your body, taking in as much of you as she could. you could feel her hands everywhere, like she was trying to fit seven years worth of you in a minute. and you are completely unable to compose yourself, moving your body so impossibly closer, looking for more ways to feel her; from desperately trying to hang your leg by her waist, to forcefully pulling yourself against her that you feel she might fall.

your kiss was wet, sloppy, hungry, desperate, passionate, everything that set your soul alight. saliva drips from your mouth down to your chin. you weren't aware whose it was. but you feel her snake a hand in between you and she swipes a thumb under your lips to clean it up.

she pulls away a little looking at you while she sucks the saliva off her thumb. and that—that very gesture, the way she looked at you, the way her other hand holds your lower back and supports your body that hers is so heavily pressed on—was what silenced all reason in your mind.

you grabbed her lose tie, and her hand instinctively goes to grip your neck, and you both pull each other back into your kiss. this time, you walk back, pulling her in the process until you hit your vanity.

you both scrambled to get each other's clothes off, but to no avail, she settles with your robe barely falling off your shoulders, and her silk white top untucked.

you were sure if anyone were outside, that the grunts, the breaths, the subtle whimpers were everything that they can hear. and when you should truly care most, when your soon-to-be husband is within the building welcoming guests for your own wedding that's to happen in about an hour, and the people who matter most has seen his mother enter the room which the only noises coming out of at this moment were your wet kissing, this moment when reason fights hard for a place in your head, you don't care.

"don't..." you stopped her when she slows down. when she gently tries to lift you up the vanity while a hand runs up your thigh so soft, so smooth, so teasing. when her kisses slows down, and she takes more control, and it cleans up a little. you moved away, taking grasp of her wrist. "don't make love to me. at the very least, you owe it to billy to let him have that."

you see something inside her dull. the flurry of colors behind her green eyes gets the tiniest gray tint. and she stiffened.

for a moment you thought she'd stop. but then her features hardens, her jaw clenches, her shoulders raise.

and then she harshly took a handful of your hair and pulled your head back until you were practically resisting of pain and fear she might break it. her lips hover not even an inch above yours as she closely examines your face.

"if you wanted to be fucked hard, you could've just said so," she tells you. and then she manouvers you around, carrying you and practically throwing you against the wall, her body pressing heavily on yours. "but that's my bad, of course you want to be fucked," she says. "you're a slut."

she rode up your robe, and your lace dress underneath it, spreading your legs further apart until one of your knees lay heavily on the edge of your table.

"please..." you whimpered, face pushed hard against the cold surface of the mirror.

she trailed a soft line up your leg, her touch spreading fire to your skin, a pulse to your insides, heat to your core.

your whimpers filled your room. the sound of your submission, the smell of your desire filled her senses. she never thought a day would come that she would have you in her hands again. most especially, not in this way.

"you can be patient, no?"

you gasped when she cupped your sex with her palm. she lowered her body, and pressed it hard against your own. her other hand tucks a portion of your hair behind your ear so it's not covering your eyes.

"i think, you need to learn to be patient, darling," she whispers against your ear.

you felt her weight. and her warmth, and somehow, with the very little reason left in your body, you remembered the door. you remembered the sound it made when billy knocked on it.

billy.

your billy.

her son billy.

you couldn't move. the weight of her body held you in place. but you forced your hand to find the back of her head. you resisted the moans. you resisted the uncontrollable urge to grind against her arm by forcing yourself still.

"nat, we can't," you whispered. "we can't do this here."

suddenly, she was rubbing your pussy. with the entirety of her palm. she was rubbing your swollen nub, and your hole, and everything that her palm covered. your mouth dropped wide open to let out the most animalistic moan you had absolutely no control of. and then she pulls your hair back so your ear is right where her lips were at.

"says who?" she pushed. "you're an adult now, you can do whatever you want."

and then there was wanda.

and then wanda was whispering in your head: "you're just a kid,"—and you wanted to pull away. "she shouldn't have taken advantage of you." you can't move. your body refused to. instead, you drank on her heat, and her warmth, and her. "she was trying to get her revenge on me."

your mind said no. you hoped your body was strong enough to do the same. it wasn't. instead, you could feel the tears forming in your eyes as your inhibitions slowly faded away.

you were like a puppy in heat. squirming under her, unable to control what desire flowed through your veins. "then tell me, who do you belong to?" she said, her voice a seductive whisper. "i don't touch what's not mine."

you chose to silent the thoughts that screamed in your head. the voices that shouted of anger, reason desperately trying to be heard.

"you." your voice was eager and you had absolutely no remorse for your words. "i belong to you." and somehow, though disguised by the desire you had for her, in your very core, and hers, you knew it was true.

so just like that, her fingers started rubbing tight circles against your clit. the pressure from her touch even against your clothed core emitting a loud pornographic moan from you that even you didn't know you can make.

"such a slutty little mouth you have," she cooed against your ear, holding you still with her hand against your throat and the other rubbing your center. "i want to hear all the sounds that pretty little mouth can make."

you grinded against her fingers, your eyes closing shut as you've fully given into the pleasure of her touch, intoxicated by the kisses she left across your back.

"y/n? are you okay?" but then you heard his voice from the other side of the door, and the moment you did, natasha's finger entered your dripping cunt with no warning, starting in an incredibly fast pace, pumping into you hard and fast.

your eyes shot open, thinking—hoping that after hearing his voice, the desire you have for the lady fucking you right now would be washed away by the thought of the man you're meant to marry in half an hour. you thought you'd push natasha away and run back into the arms of your fiance.

but when your head turned towards the door and all you thought then was the woman behind you, you knew that not even your fiance's voice, his face, or him can control what eager desire you had for the woman. the desire you've long had for her.

"y/n, what's going on, i can hear your voice. are you crying?" the man asked again, interrupting the moans you tried hard to swallow down.

"i..." you managed to let out, looking pleadingly at the woman with eyes that wished for her to slow down.

"go on. answer him," she said, completely ignoring you as she added on another finger, your hips grinding against her palm for some friction against your clit. "or would you rather he hears your slutty moans?"

you could feel that coil in your stomach beginning to tighten with your eyes starting to water in sheer pleasure. you turned your head back towards the door, huffing as you held back your moans, chasing for your orgasm.

"im okay, billy!" you practically yelped his name coming out as an unintentional moan when you've reached the peak of your orgasm, having now natasha help you ride it down. "im..." you panted. "im okay. just trying to get into my tight dress." you said.

"do you need me to help you?" he says, then he chuckled, "i know im not meant to see my bride but i'll close my eyes!" though you had no remorse for your actions, not for your words, not for your desires, billy's innocence didn't fail to make your heart ache in guilt.

you opened your mouth in an attempt to speak but before any words could come out of your throat, natasha's fingers had already beaten them as it slid through your mouth, hearing a soft, "clean them."from natasha.

the way she had her fingers in your mouth; the way she spoke, encouraged, urged when her son was merely a door away from her made you wonder if she felt what you did at this moment: guilt. her son being outside should make what she's doing with you slightly harder but it didn't. natasha was not troubled by any guilt as she bent you down the table, holding you down with both of your hands on your back, her hand keeping them in place.

she pulled your panties down, and the skirt of your dress even further up; her eyes falling immediately on your ass that she stared at with admiration. then her hand rubbed softly against your exposed ass.

she could hear your whimpers, that moan you let out when you felt the cold air against your dripping cunt, or the heavy breaths of you just waiting for what she'd do next.

her fingers ran through your folds, smearing the wetness that gathered on your hole. she bent down, her body pressing against you and her mouth on your ear.

"you're not married yet so there wont be anything wrong if i do..." she trailed off her words into a sudden slap on your ass that had you yelping in pain.

"what was that?" billy asked. "y/n, are you sure you're okay?" you didn't say anything. "will you open the door for me please?"

another slap was planted on your ass. and a couple more that in your head you counted to be 15. each one leaving a hard painful sting on your skin that as much as it shouldnt have, had added into the pleasure of having been bent across the island, exposed under natasha's eyes.

"billy..." you huffed, tears falling from your eyes in both pain and pleasure of natasha's every slap. "i think you should... go," you said, heavy breaths in between your words.

there was silence.

"y/n i—" he hesitated.

you hummed feeling natasha's fingers ghosting against your clit again. "is my little whore scared that her boyfriend would hear her slutty moans?" natasha asked, her fingers lightly pinching your clit that sent waves of pleasure over your stomach.

you whimpered, letting out a weak yes before suddenly feeling her entering 3 fingers inside of you. fucking you in a merciless pace that had you moaning so loud you were sure billy heard every slutty moan that came out from your lips.

"your pussy is so tight, baby."

but frankly, you didnt care. you were far too focused on the pleasure natasha is giving you that if everyone were to hear you, you won't even bother. the way her fingers pumped into you, filling you up and sending you over the edge with every twist and every shift in angle.

"y/n, my mother is here..." he finally says. reason shot up your brain. and you feel a stutter in natasha's pace. but she didn't stop. she continued on, now even harder than ever that you feel you are losing your mind. "have you... gotten the chance to talk to her?"

"oh god mommy please..." you moaned out, unable to keep it in, moving your hips to match every thrust of her expert fingers. "please... please... please..."

your mind left no space for billy though you try to force him in it. you feel his hesitation. you feel his doubts. you know the questions that raise his mind. but you didn't care. you were chasing the high you have longing for, for years.

"you're such a desperate little whore aren't you?" she cooed. "whores dont get to come."

she pulled out.

and then it dies down.

you came back from your high, the cloud from your judgement faded. and you were suddenly scrambling to cover yourself before billy could even think of unlocking the door with the key on the desk outside.

you didn't think of looking at natasha. not one second. not even at her white-stained trousers, or her brown boots underneath. you fixed your hair, you closed your robe, and you opened the door to billy, welcoming him to yet another one of your mistakes.

natasha remained invisible behind you.

she was set to the side, flicked off, disregarded. as she should've. then regret surged through your muscle, guilt through your every vein.

what had you done?

and once again, as he always have, and as he promised to always do, he opened his arms for you, welcoming you into his warmth, washing you away of your sins, as if his hug reinstills you of your virtues, and your truth, and who you are, which is beyond this, which is all that he truly sees.

he spared a glance at natasha, before leading you out of the room, safe in his arms, safe from harms way. and neither of you ever looked back.

you walked out on her.

for the second time.

but this time, she actually saw you. she saw you walk out of the door, she saw you leave, she saw you choose someone who isn't her.

this time she wasn't holding any flowers as she walked through the door of her home. water dripping from her hair, petals drenched with the heavy showers of what she read her city should be clear of for today.

this time, her wife wasn't in the kitchen. lifeless flowers on the floor yet they're of color, a candle rolled off an empty paper bag by the threshold.

this time, no realization hit her. her brain didn't have to process anything, she didn't have to stand frozen, with her hands shaking denying every bad thought that raced her brain.

this time, she had no wife to run to. no wife to pull off the floor to question what she'd done to you. no wife to cry to her to tell her you had ran off with billy. no wife to tell her you were gone. that your mother was being released, and you chose to go back to her with billy.

you left her before. you left her again.

and much like the last, she no longer has you. except this time, she won't ever have you back.

#ath: natasha romanoff series (wasn't midnight rain)#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu smut #billy maximoff #billy maximoff fanfic #billy maximoff x reader #billy maximoff x you #billy maximoff imagine

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scarlettsandmaroons · 2 years

Text

she is midnight rain | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter one | chapter two: she doesn't think of me

chapter summary: you just learned that your soon-to-be professor is straight up terrible. and in an attempt to drop out of her class, you instead became the target of her humiliation. you just knew you will hate her as she will you.

warnings: evident mommy issues (not really into depth)

a/n: im very excited to write this series (that's a lie, i'm only excited about the smutty parts, the beginning, not so much). will be trying to post an update every other day ꒰ ⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷⸝⸝꒱

for all your years in high school, and the very few months you had before college, you didn't have a plan. you didn't know where you wanted to go. you didn't know what you wanted to take. there were too many choices. or maybe there's barely any. you just couldn't choose for yourself, you couldn't decide.

when you don't have a mother or in your case, when you have a mother who chose her boyfriend over you, you don't really have anyone telling you what to do, where to go. and maybe some people would love the same freedom that you had, but with that freedom was misguidance. you had nobody to help you choose, nobody to guide you, to teach you, to tell you what's best for you. you have to decide all that.

but when nobody told you what was best, what was the standard for best, how could you possibly have known. how could a child understand what was best for her when she was taught nothing about the sort.

you didn't know what you wanted, and your best judgement told you to trust in your friend and follow billy maximoff. he was your bestfriend. your other half. the only person you can confide in. you knew that you had to study where he would. you couldn't possibly survive on your own. you needed him to guide you. to tell you what to do. to protect you.

"you're in mrs. romanoff's class."

you were snapped out of your thoughts. you've been staring at the field the entire time. at the massive open field between the campus and the gate. you didn't know how long you've been here, for a moment, you didn't even remember billy being in front of you holding your class schedule.

"y/n, yoo-hoo. are you okay?" billy waved a hand in front of you. "what are you thinking?"

you sighed, "i can't believe i'm in college now and i still don't know what to do." you said, looking over billy's shoulder and getting once again lost in your own head. "how am i going to survive..."

"well, i'll survive." he said proudly, earning back your attention. you almost scowled at him for being a show-off. but he smiled at you. a soft reassuring smile. "i'll survive for the both of us." he said.

your heart fluttered a little. you didn't have a mom. or a dad. or siblings. but you had a family. you had billy.

"i know what i'm going to be. i have a plan. and while you don't have any for yourself, i'll carry you." he says.

you looked at your watch. freshman orientation is in a few, and seeing your attention on the clock sent billy the hint that you both should get going. nevertheless, your conversation didn't end as you both walked into the campus.

"how will you carry me?" you mused, not returning the same sentiment he sent you as you simply humored his words.

he held the straps of his bagpack. "mmmm..." he started thinking, "i'll get a job as soon as we graduate. you can stay with me and my parents until i get my own place which i'd be glad to share with you." he says. "that way, you can finally move out from your mum's house."

"that's... very free-loader of me." you chuckled, visualizing the life you'd share with your friend.

"well, you're my free-loader." he looks at you all giddy. "that's what friends do, right?"

you sighed, "yeah."

billy never had a good relationship with his twin brother, tommy. tommy decided to stay with his father after their parents got a divorce. billy on the other hand, stayed with his mother as she remarried.

you've never met mrs. maximoff's new husband. in fact, it's been a really long time since you'd seen billy's mom. the last time you saw her, she had some sort of a 50s haircut. from what your bestfriend tells you, she went through quite a few hair phases from a shoulder length side part to a long-haired rebonded look. at some point, you know she went crazy and got a full head of tight blonde curls. that was her, "going through a hard time with my husband so i must do something so incredibly different with my hair" hair. she went back to the normal big curls, fluffy airburn hair after she remarried though.

that's how close you were with billy. you were his sister, almost. you knew everything about him. even about his mother's haircuts half of which you're sad you weren't around to see.

"mr. stark's coming by for the orientation, did you know that?"

you looked at billy. "the rich guy who owns stark industries?"

"yeah. he's a friend of my moms and dad's."

"no way?!" you all but gasped. you did coo in shock a bit, looking at him with widened eyes. "damn, it must be nice to be connected to him." you say, your mind going on to imagine what your life would be if you were as rich as him. or even connected to him. then you wouldn't have to think about all the important decisions you need to make.

"he's connected to a lot of the professors here." billy mentions. "mr. rogers, mr. banner, mr. barton. but he's closest to mrs. romanoff. they're best friends." he looks at his watch. "i think he's here for the engineering department though. he's funding them lots."

"mrs. romanoff?" you ask, complete disregarding his following statement.

"he's the reason why mrs. romanoff met my parents." he says.

"i'm in her class right?"

you haven't taken a look at your timetable yet because billy has held onto it since it was given to you. eyeing all the names of your professors and giving you some kind of commentary about them. he knows a lot about them. mrs. maximoff used to be a professor here, and for the entirety of high school, billy frequented this very campus.

"yeah." he scoffed. "good luck."

"why? is she mean?"

"terribly." he says. "she's nice, but as your professor? she'll eat you alive."

you were in two of mrs. romanoff's classes, unfortunately for you. you had her in english literature, and business economics. and until classes had officially begun two days after your orientation, stories of how horrible she is; from how she failed more than half of the total students she's had in her lifetime, to how much she enjoys either suspending, or expelling her students over the littlest inconveniences became the center of all your conversations with billy. for someone who knows a lot about her, you wish he had gotten her instead of you. now the dreading fear of seeing her live up to your horrible expectations of her with you is just crippling.

"i'm dropping out of mrs. romanoff's classes." you blurt out during billy's long monologue of the stories he's heard about the professor.

he looked at you, "no! i didn't mean to scare you." he almost laughs. "she's actually really nice!"

you shot him a sharp glare. if he dares to defend mrs. romanoff after all the stories he's told, then he's better off shutting his mouth.

"yeah, no. too late."

there was a part of you that tugged at the idea of actually doing it. if there were something that stopped you, you would so give into it and drop it. you simply needed to know that you wanted to do—that you can do something about it so you can lie yourself into thinking that you have, this new life of yours, under control. and you were lucky enough to just serve into that purpose as you were unlucky enough to have stumbled upon a wooden door that had mrs. romanoff's name spelled out in gold letters.

natasha romanoff.

billy has been talking this entire time, explaining to you how mrs. romanoff could've been better than what he initially led you to believe. you've been taking mental notes but you haven't really been paying attention, so you only got, "she's the best professor here. constantly commended by the dean himself" and "her class is the hardest to get into. only the best of the best can get into it—"

you heard nothing further as you started fixating on how there was absolutely no way of telling if she was in as the massive window deemed useless with the blinds covering it. despite your efforts in trying to take even the smallest peak inside, no luck.

you can turn away. but you're here now. besides, not knowing whether or not she's in isn't really an inconvenience worth turning away from.

perseverance glinted your eyes. you weren't giving up. you put a hand on the handle, "y/n, no, she—", and you went in without hearing out billy, or even giving the chance for anyone to let you in.

you have to transfer out of her class before you have to go in it. as uncomfortable as this might be, it's this, or a whole year or more worth of wishing you got out when you could.

inside was a woman sitting at the desk just a few steps away from you. it was a relatively average sized room. it wasn't too small. not too cramped. but it wasn't too big either. not too empty. the walls of either sides were bookshelves. the back wall, a massive window overlooking the entire front of the school.

the woman lifted her head to see you, and immediately, you were taken aback by her... beauty. the features that are of the ordinary, but on its entirety, with all of it combined, created this image of the goddess sitting in front of you.

you melted. you pictured her to be an old woman, but now you see why everyone was so intimated by her. her simple gaze, and unmoving disinterest of your presence made you feel so small. to have such a gorgeous woman look at you like you didn't matter, exactly the way that she did you, is so intimidating. so belittling. yet, you were enamored. you were captured by her. she was just simply mesmerizing. satisfying.

she had red hair. massive curls that cascaded down her shoulders as if so intricately placed to look so neat and clean. she had a side part, though, it was barely noticeable as the part was a lot closer to the center than it should be for a side part. her eyes were so brightly... emerald. despite of the shadows created by the light behind her, it stayed so vibrant. like a gem. she had such a beautifully molded nose. and red lips. you wanted nothing else but to stare at her forever.

"i suggest you start saying something now, before this intrusion of yours becomes the reason why your time here ends."

her voice sent chills down your spine. you felt goosebumps. all the hair in your body rose. her voice was so terribly cold. she was composed, and calm. and had not a care in the world, especially you. the way she delivered it with such disinterest, almost in a condescending way made you feel so small. it gave you all the more reason to drop out.

she was looking up at you. her chin was resting at the back of her hand where she had a pen between her fingers.

she made your heart race in fear.

"i'm in your class." you take a deep breath. "i'd like to drop out."

you see the end of her lip twitch almost in amusement when her eyes dropped to the papers on her desk. she fixed her posture and started fixing the mess she had laid out. she did it so painfully slow as if you weren't there. but when she stood up, placing both of her hands on her desk, you knew she wasn't trying to torture you. the way the end of her lip raised into the slightest grin made you realize she was having her fun with you. like one of the students she'd amuse herself with first, embarrass, torture, belittle, before kicking out. almost like you were a toy. one of the many for her.

you gulped.

"tell me, miss y/f/n y/l/n. why do you want to drop out?" she asks, slowly going around her desk before she gestured to a chair in front of it—not to offer you a seat, but to require you to do as she wants, and sit down. "you haven't even seen me in class yet. i doubt you even had the chance to attend your very first class which you will soon miss if you continue to—waste, my, time."

you gulped again. something about the way she stares at you while she walks to the small table by the bookshelf where she had a few glasses and whiskey made your throat dry.

"i heard stories."

"i assure you, miss y/l/n," you flinched a bit when her glass hits the surface of her desk, later followed by her body dropping to her seat in the most elegant way. "whatever you heard is true."

goosebumps again. not good goosebumps. "please let me leave because i want to cry" goosebumps. her eyes were piercing through you, you can't imagine moving. to even relax your shoulder and somehow offending her with the slight movement is such horror for you.

she took a sip from her drink. before letting the glass hang barely by her fingertips as she leans closer to you, her chin resting once again on the back of her hand.

"how old are you?" she asks.

"i just turned 18." you answer quickly as if it would disappoint her if you waited a beat.

"what is something worth knowing about a y/f/n y/l/n?" you didn't notice the way your name rolled off her tongue. you didn't notice she knew your name this entire time. she said it with such grace. never had your name sounded so foreign. so new. so beautiful.

something about her was pulling you in. sucking you into her. and you weren't sure if it was the fear of getting kicked out, or just because of her sheer charms that made you blurt out every thinkable thing about you.

"i'm 18. i just turned 18." you started, taking a deep breath in and calming yourself down when you realized how quick you were talking. "i can't drive for the life of me. i hate milk. i'm plainly unhealthy. i don't drink vitamins. or eat an average amount of nutrients and meals in general. i'm nocturnal, i can't fall asleep at night. i love juice, soda, everything but water. i have a complicated relationship with my hair. i..." the realization stunned you. the realization that you were sitting in the office of who you heard was the strictest professor in this very university, telling her about the most absurd, uninteresting things about you, when you might just be on the very verge of getting kicked out of your bestfriend's dream university.

you calmed yourself down. you tried to rid yourself of the panic you resorted to burying deep deep down, you fixed your posture, cleared your throat, and in the most modulated voice that you can harness within yourself, you said, "i am ambitious, strong, independent—" that's a lie. "bright, optimistic, and persistent. and i really want to have the opportunity to begin my year in this university—" hopefully not in your class. "because i know that i have the exact amount of wit, and dedication this school is looking for in a student." i don't want to be in your class. "if given the opportunity to... in a different class wherein i can flourish."

"well," she says as if impressed. you stood up when she did, giving her a hopeful expression like that's going to boost your chances of getting out of her class without suffering the grave consequences she's known to give.

she moved around the table again, this time, moving slowly towards you. step by step. closer each passing second. and when the two of you were finally faced to face with each other without the desk between you, her small smirk dropped. "no." she says in a way that showed you how amused she was of putting your efforts of coming in here to waste without sounding anywhere besides stern.

"what?"

"i said no."

"no, what?" at this point, you were in distress. but you tried your best to hide it. you weren't very successful though. your voice raised, though you all but shouted.

her left hand rested on the surface of her desk when she leaned her hip against it, tipping her head slightly to the side, "look, miss y/l/n, i did not just waste all this time getting to know you and your... habits, just for you to drop out of my class."

her tone was unkind. she was cold, and stern. and she wanted nothing but to get her way. your attempts gave her mere amusement. she didn't acknowledge you, or your request, she just wanted to see the way your face would contort in shock when she declines you after letting you think your efforts would get you anywhere.

"but, mrs. romanoff—"

"BUT...! miss y/l/n—" she didn't shout, but the way she said it, the way her voice raised. you wanted to crawl into a cave and cry. especially with the way her eyes lingered on a little too long on yours before she looked away and returned to her seat. "i could so easily penalize you for entering my office with no permission." her tone was mad. graceful, elegant. calm and collected. but mad. "i would have you suspended if i didn't appreciate your... attempt, to even come inside my office, to speak to me and look me straight in the eye requesting me for something... you're gutsy. you could've used that in my class instead."

you weren't going to win.

today, you realized, that mrs. romanoff will always have the power. and if you can't handle that, then you're better of leaving the school.

she's dreadful. she's dark. she's the storm that angers the seas. and the rain at midnight. she is going to potentially ruin your chances of succeeding in this university—in life, and you will... hate her as you are now definitely sure she will you.

"i'll see you later."

you did see her later. a blissful 2 hours without her was replaced by dread when the moment you sat on the very back of the lecture hall, she came in. everyone stood before her, as if it were highschool, and you just went with it. just a mere clack of her high heeled shoes had everyone on their feet, their hands on their chest as if she was a goddess to be worshiped.

"good morning, everyone."

nobody spoke, it was mere silence after a beat of her greeting in which she gestured everyone to sit. you hid behind a tall man. the lecture hall was packed. although, there were a few empty seats up front.

"i'd like to begin today with..." she didn't have much with her. she only had a clipboard which she places on her desk. she took quite a while adjusting. but when she did; when she was leaning back on her seat, her legs elegantly crossed, where her hands rested on her knee, she looked straight ahead. and for a moment, you thought you can feel her eyes boring through the people you're hiding behind of and staring at you. "i have absolutely zero tolerance for any of your bullshit." all the calmness of her tone before was replaced by a sheer sharpness. "you either do as i say, exactly as i say it, or you leave this classroom. better yet, this school. are we clear?" she was stern. and you were scared. "now," she says with an exhale. "you at the back," you froze. "are we clear with that?"

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