#natasha romanoff has a heart

[ageofevermore]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME

SUMMARY — she was the best thing that has ever happened to you, but it seems every move she’s ever made has led to this moment. long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you, i was screaming, "long live all the magic we made", and bring on all the pretenders, one day we will be remembered

WARNINGS — canon endgame events, grief, vormir, heavy heavy angst, im warning you this is literally just reader reliving natasha’s final moments alive

You should’ve known what would come of a day that started with gloom hanging over your head, but truthfully, nothing could have prepared you for losing her.

The compound was quiet. It had been for years. Very little through traffic and when it did come, the tone was somber and voices were quiet, carrying a heavy grief that time was only able to amplify, not dull. Your own voices were quiet with it, and tears were spilled routinely, your minds not about to comprehend that the Avengers had lost, and that half the population was gone because of it, Wanda included. She wasn’t the only one though. Bucky was gone, Peter, Sam, and Maria, Fury too. All of the handprints you’d made in the sand had been washed away by an angry tide, and those that remained, only a few, didn’t survive without thick distance and tension growing between them. You couldn’t be together without feeling the weight of what was missing. What you failed to save. Clint was off the grid, Tony was hidden away in a cabin with Pepper and a kid that didn’t know how close she was to having never existed at all, and Steve was out chasing ghosts. The team that had been assembled to save the world had fallen apart, and in the place of heroes were severely traumatized kids wearing adult clothing.

When Tony came to you, after Scott Lang returned from the quantum realm, saying he had found a way to bring everyone back, you should have turned him away. You should have slammed the door in his face and retired to bed beside Natasha, but you didn’t. You would never give up on Wanda, on all of the innocent lives that had chances to be lived again, but had you known you would lose your purpose in the wake of being a hero, you would have taken some steps differently. You would have found a way for everyone to survive, even if the ground opened beneath your feet in the process. But you didn’t do that, and Natasha was gone, and Wanda was traumatized and heartbroken, and you were just alone. Your best friend was back, but your purpose was gone. Natalia Romanov was so much more than just your partner turned girlfriend, or the assassin with a ledger dripping in blood. She was the reason you got up in the morning, the reason you watched so many crime documentaries at midnight, the reason you could only sleep on the left side of the bed even if she wasn't home, because there was a chance she would sneak through that heavy door at one am and crawl in beside you. That chance didn’t exist now. But crime documentaries and American Pie did, but you would never experience them again. Not if you could help it. It hurt too much. Even without them, the only thing that consumed your mind was her last day, and how you wished you would have known what was to come. Maybe you shouldn’t have promised whatever it takes, or let her tell Steve she’d see him in a minute, tempting fate was never a card you should play and you knew that and she knew that, but you both had been so confident. How much worse could things get? You’d both had that mindset. You shouldn’t have. You never thought that you would return without her, with salty tears in your mouth and a heart half empty in your chest, beating, but for what reason. Natasha was dead. Surely there was nothing else to live for. No purpose to serve.

That morning, it had been cold, you remember that much. You had rolled out of bed with tension in your shoulders and an ache in your bones that you tried to ignore and instead put in all of your energy and hope into reversing the blip. It was a spring afternoon in upstate New York, and the biting cold should’ve been your first indication that something was off. For weeks prior, the sun had beat down on pavement relentlessly and left it scalding as a result, but that day, although sunny, there was a strong wind coming off the shore and rustling leaves with strength strong enough to create a rustling sound around the compound. Being together didn’t help the clench in your gut either, it felt strongly of poisoned nostalgia, a painful weight surrounding you that dwelled on how members were missing, how even if you were all together again for the first time in five years, pieces of you were missing. There was a chance this wouldn’t work, and you knew if it came down to that you’d never be together again. This was the Avengers last call, none of you could handle this pain again if things went south. You wish you would’ve cherished that poisoned nostalgia more, and how Natasha grabbed your hand as you lined up to invade the past, but like you’d been doing, you pushed everything aside to focus on the mission.

You’ve never been cold like you were on Vormir. It felt like the marrow inside your bones had frozen over and your blood had turned to slush, but Natasha’s hand was warm when she grabbed you and pulled you along with her, giving you no time to dwell on how dry and unwelcoming the atmosphere was. You wish you would’ve told her how badly your belly clenched with dread the deeper you got into the planet, but you kept quiet, mind set on bringing Wanda and everyone else back. Your girlfriend didn’t seem to notice anything chilling about the planet, keeping a neutral expression that was borderline amazed by everything she was seeing. Never in a million years did you think you’d be exploring an alien planet in the past, searching for a magical rock that would bring half of Earth's population back, but at the time, you were too in your head to really take the beauty in. Even now, you couldn’t appreciate the purple undertones of everything, or the illuminating green glow that lit up the sky.

What’s engraved in your memory isn’t the scent of dirt or dried blood, you couldn’t get that lucky to just remember the little things, instead, its like an endless movie reel in your heart of the feelings you barely had time to recognize as her hand tightened in yours when you realized your fate. When the both of you realized that only one of you was going home and that one of you was never leaving. It feels easier to think of it like that. To think that she’s still there, still breathing, exploring an alien planet and not dead on a pile of rocks, probably just bones at this point, but you know that she's not out exploring, finding a way back to you. Even if you try to forget, the sight of her sprawled on the ground haunts your dreams without your permission. The pool of blood that gathered around her still makes you sick, but even with Wanda tampering in your mind, no amount of scarlet magic can take that image away. She was never supposed to die for the cause. She was never supposed to die at all. In your perfect fantasy, the both of you lived until a hundred, and you had kids, and grandchildren, and a life that was dedicated to more than just the Avengers. That was never in the cards for either of you. Somewhere in your belly you know that, but love had made you blind. When you try to sleep at night, even now, months later, you can still hear the last conversation you had, and how the wind had swept beneath her body and sent her falling, and the sound of her hitting hard ground with no cushion. You can still feel her let go of you. Giving into her fate with ease. Your knees are scarred from the jagged rocks you landed on when you fell to your knees and sobbed for her. When you watched her plummet to her death. It’s a traumatic event that no amount of therapy can heal. You left a piece of you on that planet, and it's still there. No amount of Wanda’s care and comfort can take that hurt away from you. You lost half of yourself that day, and the part that remains is dying slowly every day.

“You don’t have to do this, Nat. We can find another way.” Your words feel obvious, but Natasha’s determined. She’s not scared of dying, you know that she’s never been. She’s faced death so many times that it feels liberating to be the one in control now, but you’re not ready to let her go. It’s selfish, you know that it is, but she’s the best thing that's ever happened to you. She’s supposed to stand by you forever, but here’s fate, forcing you into a goodbye that you’re not ready for. That you will never be ready for.

“There is no other way, detka. You know that.” Her words cut you. She doesn’t mean to hurt you, its the last thing she wants, the last thing she wants you to remember about her, but she sees no other option here. Her mind is made up. You’ve got an entire life to live, but she’s already found salvation. She’s been haunted since she was only a few months old. You've taken away her pain, made her smile, but her eyes are always going to be cold. You're the only thing that kept her holding onto nothing, but it’s time to let go. She has the opportunity to do good; to be good. This was always it for her.

“We can find another way! We will! Think about this, Nat!” You don’t know when you started crying, but you flinch when a hand cradles your cheek so delicately it's almost not there at all and a calloused thumb brushes hot tears from your cheeks. You grab her wrist, pressing her hand against your skin harder. If this is the last moment you have, you don’t want ghost light touches, you just want her.

“This is how it was always meant to be. This was always the endgame for me.” Your girlfriend, a bruised little girl who was forced to take on too much at too young, is the bravest woman you’ll ever know. She’s your heart. The only reason you get out of bed and keep going. She’s your motivation. She’s your inspiration.

“I want to be your endgame!” You choke on the words, feeling like you’ve just been suckerpunched in the gut, but Natasha barely winces.

“You’ll find somebody else.” It’s a promise, spoken so lightly that you almost didn’t hear it, but you did.

The words make you flinch, your eyes bleeding hurt that you can’t hide anymore. You don’t care how selfish you’re being, or how hard you’re making this for her, she needs to understand that you’re willing to lose everything else if it means keeping her. “I don’t want anyone else, Nat! I want you!”

“I know you do, malysh. But that isn’t in the cards for us.” She’s crying now, and it breaks your heart, but you're frozen in place, clinging to the hand that’s still against your cheek. You try to reach for her, to brush the tears from her porcelain skin that’s too pretty to be wet with tears, but you’re completely frozen in place.

“We can write our own cards!” She shakes her head, a sad smile on her trembling lips.

“P-Promise me that you’ll find somebody else. Promise me that you’ll live the rest of your life with no regrets. That you’ll be crazy and reckless and get far far away from the compound and get that bungalow on a beach somewhere. Maybe hawaii.”

“I want that with you! I want sunsets on a beach with you! I want crazy and reckless and freedom with you!”

The tears are falling faster now, and her chin quivers so violently the first time she opens her mouth to speak no words come out. The world is sparkling around her, the green of the sky so dainty it feels wrong to be having this conversation beneath it. “I was enchanted to meet you, but you have to let me go now. You have to let me do this. To wipe out my ledger. To mean more than he thinks I can. Okay? O-Okay? Can you do that for me? Can you let me be who I want to be? A hero?”

“You already are, Nat.” You mean that with everything in you. She’s the bravest woman you know, the only person who would ever be able to overcome everything she’s done. But she’ll never see that. She’ll never be able to see that she’s still an innocent, that she’s still pure and with everything that she does she’s wiping out her ledger. But if this is what she needs, if this will finally convince her that she’s not the monster she dreams of, you can let her have this. You can let her go.

Her eyes pinch shut, and a single tear falls down her face. It’s painfully poetic, like every move she’s ever made has led to this moment. “If you have children someday, please tell them my name.”

She’s afraid of being forgotten. Somehow that hurts more than her willingness to die, then her thinking she’s a monster. She thinks she’s forgettable. She thinks you’re not going to carry her in everything you do for the rest of your life. “You will be remembered. If the only thing I do in this life is keep you alive in memory, then I’ll have lived the best, fullest life.”

A smile pulls at her lips, and it feels so wrong to see in a moment like this, but you can’t help but smile with her. “I had the time of my life fighting with you.”

A sob breaks through your chest, shaking your entire body, and you crash into her with a force, trying to memorize every curve of her body against yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much. I love you. I love you.” You can’t stop, you need her to know. She needs to know that she was loved here, that she wasn’t just a temporary thing. She’s permanent. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to you. Even if she never escapes this planet, and never gets to live in a bungalow on the beach, and never believes that she’s a hero, she needs to know that she was so so loved and cherished. It’s the only thing you’ve been trying to convey for the last twenty years.

Her hands push you away from her, but youre not willing to let go so soon. You’ll never be ready to let go, but you let her create distance, soon, distance will be the only thing you have. Her hands cup your cheeks, her thumbs digging into your skin so harshly you know you’re going to bruise. Soon, the only thing you’ll have left of her physical body is bruises on your face. “I have loved every single moment I got to spend being yours. I love you. I love you. I love you.” How can she be thinking of you at a time like this? How can she be so selfless when you’re so selfish?

“I know.” Ugly sobs echo around the deserted planet, heavy heaves tearing you apart as she detangles herself from you and prepares to jump. She has all the power here. She’s in charge. It should overcome you with pride, seeing her so full of confidence and certainty, but it breaks you apart instead.

The last words off her lips before she’s just a pile of flesh at the bottom of a mountain are tattooed in your memory. “Live for me.”

[amandafaganofficial]

Stark! The Musical - A Tribute to the MCU

Marvel tumblr, could you do your thing? I'm trying to spread the word to Marvel fans and I thought I'd come here. I've been working on this musical for over 4 years and my producer and I plan to pitch it soon! I want to keep the story of the original Avengers alive with this project, particularly Tony Stark and his character arc. This is a love letter to all the Marvel fans of the world <3

Watch the full trailer here: https://youtu.be/BL83K31q730?si=prFZvm9uCdECRbF5

[thena0315]

Rest In Peace to Legends

[soliloquent-stark]

💌 ctrl-alt-deceit by soliloquent

17,1k words // pairing: tony stark & steve rogers

—⎊—

"Tony,

I've completed the background check on Steven Rogers, and there's something big you need to know. Like, massive security-threat level big.

I'm sorry, sugar. He's bad news."

or: A corporate espionage story told solely through excerpts from CEO Tony Stark's inbox. Featuring romantic pining, delightful office lunches, sarcastic super-geniuses, intense investigations, revolutionary nanotechnology research, unhinged arch-nemeses, haunting ghosts from the past, and an endearing emoji overload by a witty Peter Parker.

[natsarrownecklacx]

decided to write a full fic based on this and oh god help i am toooo gay

[inkblot-inc]

Natasha totally dresses up on New Year’s Eve hoping to catch Jaws’ attention and it works very well. Jaws almost walks into a table of food because they’re too busy staring at Nat. Luckily Wanda was able to stop that with an amused snort.

Natasha knows exactly what will catch Jaws' eye too. Her acting coy when she finally meets up with Jaws during the party 🤭

Both Jaws and Natasha are standing by the open bar, Natasha standing behind the counter. "Do I want to know what that was earlier? You almost knocked over half of the refreshment table,"

"Yeah no, Sam just told me there was, uh, a chocolate fountain brought in for the party," they sporadically moved their hand gesturing to the table and the turn of events. "Got a little excited, you know,"

"I'm glad Wanda was there then. Wouldn't want you to ruin your suit. Very fetching by the way." Natasha reaches up to smooth her hand over Jaws' shoulder in a light motion, removing some imaginary wrinkle.

"Thanks, Stark is good for some things apparently," Jaws' eyes go to Nat's hand and move down her arm before taking in the rest of her outfit up close.

"See something you like?"

Jaws nods a few times with an off-tempo bounce, "Hell yeah- I mean- you look friggin' stunnin' tonight, Natty. Is that dress new? I definitely would've remembered you buyin' THIS"

"It was one of the things I bought for tonight, so I'm glad you like it, detka." There's more warmth in her eyes than there was before.

"I'm gonna like everythin' you wear, Natty. You buy anythin' else I should know about?"

Only one side of Natasha's lips turn up in her usual teasing smirk. She goes to lean up by Jaws' ear, "You'll have to wait until later before I can show you properly, rybka. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Jaws eyes give a slow blink, their smile growing further on their face. "I do like surprises..."

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hospital Flowers pt.2

Pt.1

TW: SADNESS

She didn't wake up.

Yes, Aurelia's heart was beating and she had some brain activity, but she wasn't awake. The only sign she was alive was the steady rising and falling of her chest and the beeping from the heart monitor.

Her favorite flowers filled the room along with balloons and 'get well soon' cards.

Someone was always at Aurelia's side, trying to get her to wake up. Telling stories in hopes of her brain recognizing them in her post surgery, comatose state.

Seventy-five hours later and some people were slowly beginning to lose hope. Others clung to it like a lifeline and refused to let go.

Tony sat by her side, holding her hand, talking about how he felt when he heard he was having a daughter. When he first saw her big green eyes and heard her first cry, how that was possibly the greatest moment of his entire life.

"When I heard, I was terrified, of course. . . I didn't want to be like my father, and so I was involved as much I could be during your mom's pregnancy. . . By the forty week mark, she was pretty tired of both of us, but she loved you. I loved you then and I love you now. . ."

Ha! I wasn't even born yet and she was already tired of me. I miss mom.

Silence filled the room.

"Then when you were born at forty weeks and two days, I had a new fear. . . That you'd be exactly like me— a hard-headed genius with anxiety levels through the roof. . . But the moment I saw you open those stunning green eyes of yours, my heart absolutely melted and I knew right then that you'd be amazing, and I was right. . . I'm lucky to have such an amazingly sweet girl as my daughter, even if her fiancé does wear spandex. . . I love you, Aurelia Marie Stark. . . Please wake up."

I'm trying to. . . I love you most, dad.

He stood and kissed her forehead, letting Peter have his seat. "Talk to her, kid. The doctors recommend it."

Peter nodded and Tony left.

"Hey, Lia! Its me, Peter. . . I remember this one time you picked me up from school, and I had been having a bad day. I didn't want to talk about it, so you took me to McDonald's and we sat in the far corner, away from everyone."

I remember that too. . .

He teared up and attempted to blink them away, before giving up and letting them fall.

"You didn't pressure me into talking or anything. . . But you told me some embarrassing stories from your childhood, like the time you face planted at a pageant and laughed so hard you snorted." He smiled lightly as the tears continued to fall.

Dad laughed so hard with me that he got kicked out and I got disqualified, I don't think I ever told you that part. . . Oops.

"It really cheered me up. . . You've always been good at cheering people up, which is why you can't leave us. You have to fight and come back. Mr Stark will be lost without you. . . And so would I. You're my sister." He cried.

"I wouldn't want to live in a world where my sister was gone. . . I couldn't handle it. . . We love you so much."

I love all of you so much, I'm trying so hard to come back to all of you. . . Be my brave little brother until I'm back. I love you so, so much Pete.

"You did good, Queens." Steve said, clapping his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Your aunt has to leave, but she says you can stay as long as you're with one of us."

Peter stood from the chair and embraced Steve — something he had never done before. Shocked, Steve took a moment to process it before returning the embrace.

"Get my sister to wake up. . . Please."

"I plan to."

"Good." Peter said before leaving the room.

Steve sat in the chair and scooted closer to the bed. He recited every healing prayer he learned from the church and his mom at least once before sighing and dropping his head to the bed.

Almost eighty hours and there was still hope.

"I need you to wake up for me, Sweetheart. . . We have plans, you know? We're getting married next October and going wherever you want to go for the honeymoon, and we'll get out of Brooklyn, as much as I love the place, I can't hold on to my past like that, especially since you're my future. . . Maybe I'll take a page out of Clint's book and build you a farm and let you have as many animals as you want and name them whatever you please. . . I'm sure Maverick would be much happier on a farm than in the city." He smiled lightly, grasping her hand.

"If you can hear me, I need you to know I love you. . . And once we're married, I want to start a family. . . As many children as your heart desires."

I can hear you loud and clear, Captain. . . I want Three. Two boys, one girl, but I'll be happy regardless. . .

"We can paint the nursery and put together the furniture, and I already know you'd be the most fantastic mother because of how you've been with Peter and the trick or treaters on Halloween. . . Knowing you, you have everything planned out, especially the names for our children and the color swatches for the entire house, including the nursery."

Of course I do, I'm a Stark, we're professional planners. . . I miss you, Steve. I'm going to come back to you, I promise.

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

Then there was something so light he almost missed it. Almost.

The feeling of her hand tightening around his.

"Aurelia?"

I'm coming home.

He released her hand. "I promise you, I'll be right back."

Sound was an odd thing.

She thought they were conversations in her head, but they weren't. With most of her senses asleep, she heard with a clarity she hadn't had before.

As soon as Aurelia felt a shift, sound began fading away like the music does at the end of a song. Then it started low and garbled. It slowly rose in volume and became more clear, like she was mentally turning a radio dial.

She sucked in a shallow breath and winced. It felt like she inhaled sandpaper.

She opened her eyes and everything was bright and blurry. She saw vague shapes that looked like multiple people, but quite frankly she was confused, tired, frustrated, and overall done.

"What?" She rasped, moving her head to the side and closing her eyes again.

"Well miss Stark, you're awake. Welcome back."

"Clearly." She groaned

"You should get some rest to reacclimate. We'll check on you in a little bit to make sure you're readjusting to your surroundings."

"Water?" She let the obvious question pierce the air as she opened her eyes once again. Everything was less blurry.

Tony and Steve helped her sit up and Natasha passed her the water. Aurelia downed it within seconds.

"We'll let you get some rest, but don't think about the situation too much. Everything will be alright now. . . We're glad you're awake again." Natasha patted her knee lightly and escorted everyone out of the room, except three.

Moment by moment things were coming back. Memories. Unobstructed vision. But it wasn't instantaneous.

That's how it remained for a week. . . Aurelia trying to figure out where she was (though she was reminded daily), frustration, anxiety, resting, talking more and more every day.

After the week she was almost back to how she was before.

Even at almost, Steve loved her anyway.

She remembered that she loved Steve.

Another two days and she went home with everyone, Tony deciding the tower was the safest bet until she was back to 100%, or as close as she would ever get again.

They knew she was better when they found her play fighting Thor outside of a cushion fort with foam swords. What? A girl has to play a little bit sometimes.

What happened after?

Aurelia learned to kinda trust cars again.

Steve and Aurelia got married the next October 31st in a private ceremony at an undisclosed location in New York City.

They spent sixteen days in Italy as their honeymoon.

They arrived home just in time for Thanksgiving and to announce their first pregnancy.

They bought an old farm house in Connecticut

Sarah Natalia Rogers was born September thirteenth the following year.

Two years later, Elijah James Rogers stole hearts on November 3rd.

Almost two years after that, Catherine Virginia Rogers was born on March 10th.

Natasha was named the godmother of all three.

Bucky is Sarah's Godfather.

Sam is Elijah's Godfather.

Thor is Catherine's Godfather. (Literally)

They grew old and had a good life together.

Everyone else did the same.

Because at the end of it all, they deserved to be happy.

[therealmairon]

My favorite part about fanfiction is when the author gives a character an unexpected trait/hobby or interest, and it's just so refreshing to see a new take on this person like "oh, Natasha Romanov likes peppermint tea and hot cocoa and she really can't stand black coffee (too bitter), and she likes soft smelling body soaps/butters like strawberry, peppermint, or lavender; and someone on the team needs someone to talk to about a nightmare/past trauma? She's got em! And she's not just a cold hearted assassin who refuses to show people she cares about a little love, and no, her favorite color is not black, it's red thank you very much, and she likes wearing pretty dresses to parties and reading Jane Austen."

[awanderingmuse-ficrec]

Advanced Culinary Training

Fandom: The Avengers

Author: thegracious

Rating: General

Warnings: Strong Language

Word Count: 4,789

Pairings: Stucky, Pepperony

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Jarvis, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, The Olds

Tags: Cooking, MasterChef AU, Barnes is sassy, but is now on TV, Grilled Cheese is his specialty, The Olds, Barnes has eaten a seal before, and a bear, Humor, Fluff, Infinite Coffee Verse

Barnes discovers MasterChef. MasterChef discovers Barnes.

OR

Barnes trades in villainy for reality TV. He's not entirely sure if it's better.

OR

How Barnes whooped HYDRA's ass with a grilled cheese sandwich.

[syrma-sensei]

Just rewatched The Avengers like for the 38833782199237th time, and man I'm in tears.

[gayerthanevertbh]

good girls have gone… bad?

summary: her sister has been on your thoughts ever since you became friends with yelena. you two exchanged a quick gaze, and you both wondered right away who natasha romanoff was. sleeping with your best friend's sister isn't such a bad idea, considering yelena left you to spend some time alone with natasha, right? you knew she was way older than you, and you loved that.

warnings: smut, age difference (reader is 21; natasha is 37) blowjob, natasha has a penis, dirty talking, and more - 18+ minors dni

note: i'm back! i'm sorry if i haven't been updating, if i have to be honest i lost interest in this account. but now that i'm back, i think i'll be writing here more often! i apologize if there are some errors with this fic

“I have to get my report card at uni today,” While I was engrossed in a vlog on my phone, Yelena let out a sigh as she devoured her bag of chips. “Are you okay being alone here for now? I mean, you’re with Natasha. So you’re in good hands.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Your sister doesn’t talk much.”

“She has a day off from work; give her a break.”

I laughed involuntarily. “Even though she’s not at work, she doesn’t talk much. She’ll talk if we want something for dinner or something.”

"I believe she is simply shy," Yelena kissed me on the forehead and said as she got her bag off the couch. “Listen, call me if you need anything. Just hope that I have a signal.”

I smiled at her as she departed, leaving me in solitude within the living room, embracing the tranquility. Yelena and I have been friends since senior year, which I find amusing considering that I have always seen her at school since I was a freshman. It's etched in my memory how she was the one who reached out to me initially, and from there, we embarked on a whirlwind of parties and adventures. Over the course of the past two years, she became the sole person I could rely on. We were supposedly living together at our university, but she mentioned that I could sleep at her place any time whenever we’re on campus since her place was conveniently located nearby. Then, upon encountering her sister, Natasha Romanoff, my heart seemed to come to a halt.

She was absolutely stunning, without a doubt the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She had a chic, cropped hairstyle, delicate hands, and a radiant smile that seemed to stretch for miles whenever I caught a glimpse. I found everything about her quite appealing, including her tendency to be more reserved in conversation. I often pondered whether or not Yelena had parents, but she remained tight-lipped on the subject. She only shared with me that from a young age, Natasha whisked her away from their parents and they began their life in New York. Her sister has always been the one supporting them financially, which is why she has been consistently absent. However, Yelena's admiration for her sister knows no bounds.

It was sweet, which made me jealous sometimes. 

As I made my way back to Yelena's room, Natasha emerged from her own room, a warm smile gracing her face.

“I assume Yelena’s not at home?”

I shook my head. “No, she’s getting her report card at university today.”

“Oh,” She let out an exasperated sigh and casually leaned against the wall. “And you? You’re not getting your report card?”

“I already got it; my parents weren’t so proud this time.”

“What did you fail?” She let out a soft laugh, fixing her gaze on me intensely, causing a knot to form in my stomach. I'm not sure if it was positive or negative, but her intense gaze made my heart skip a beat.

“Finance,” I murmured. “I didn’t focus with that subject that much, which I completely regret.”

I heard her giggle again, and it made my heart race even faster. When I give it some thought, I realize that Natasha and I are similar in one area: sex. I don't discuss it with Yelena or my other friends, but I don't feel embarrassed talking to Natasha about it. Although we've never actually done it, we were both flirtatious about it. Natasha usually asks me to come to her room while Yelena is sleeping, where she usually spends her time masturbating at the foot of the bed. And when it was my turn, I would smother my fingers when Natasha expressed her wish to touch me. 

In her bed. 

The following day, we just look at each other as if nothing had happened and don't discuss this. Since Yelena didn't seem suspicious, which I was grateful for, I carried on doing this with Natasha until she eventually became tired of me. I was probably just another girl in her view, someone to be used. She was, nevertheless, to me like the book that I couldn't put down. I was drawn to her and wanted to spend time with her.

I could never acknowledge such a thing.

“I was wondering if...” Her mouth became silent as she walked over to me, smirking, and brushed her delicate fingertips over a strand of my hair. “Maybe you’d join me in our secret affair?”

I snorted. “Affair? Natasha, we aren’t in a relationship.”

"Well, it would be impolite to suggest that we watch porn together or something; you are aware of the subject."

I debated whether or not to do it today because Yelena might return at any moment. I sighed heavily and shook my head because she had not told me what time she would be home. It was a bad idea, because if that turned out to be true, we could be caught.

But it wouldn’t hurt to do this... Right?

“Okay,” I whispered to her as she trailed her fingers on my collarbone. “Take me to your bedroom.”

“Shit,”Natasha whispered, holding on to her mattress sheet. “That feels so good, baby. K-Keep going; don’t stop.”

I stared at her face, contoured with lust,  and bobbed my head up and down. Considering that her cock felt erect in my mouth, I find it fascinating how much this makes her want to engage. She lifted her hips a little as I licked and sucked on the tip of her dick.

“Good girl,” She whispers, pressing my head farther down as she runs her fingers through my hair. “You like that? You like my cock in your mouth?”

I let out a quiet affirmation as I sensed a certain anticipation on my tongue, observing her eyebrows furrow each time I took her length into my mouth. “You’re so big,” I withdrew my mouth from her cock and caressed her whole length, filling the room with loud, sloshing sounds. “I’ve never done anything like this, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah?” She gently sat up on the bed and slapped the head of her dick onto my lips by grabbing the base of her length. “Open up, sweetheart. I need to cum in your throat.”

Ideally, I would prefer that not to occur. I had to taste her, though, because it was Natasha. Heck, I didn't even give a damn if Yelena was home right now. All I wanted was for this to occur, for her to require my presence. I bobbed my head angrily and made gag noises as I sucked on her dick once more.  

It turned on Natasha even more as I did so. 

“You’re so warm, fuck...” I knelt on the bed as her words faltered. "You're such a slut for my dick, look at you. Tell me, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

More than you could ever know. 

She was probably amazed at my ability to pull off such a feat as she watched me in disbelief as I placed her genitalia into my mouth. The action caused me to cough a little, and I choked on her genitalia right away. And I pulled my head back. She pouted, her whole length smeared across my face as she gripped the back of my head. "Baby, I thought we were just gon' talk dirty to each other."

I whimpered. “I needed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah? You needed me?”

“So bad,” I whined as I kissed her length. “Please don’t stop.” 

“Open your mouth.”

She fucked her cock by pushing it back down my throat. Hard. I throw my eyes back, and Natasha's hips falter as she strikes the back of my throat. She recoils her head. “I’m going to cum down your throat, and you’re going to swallow it, okay, baby? You are so good for me, so so good...”

If I were the only girl in the world, I would do this every single day. However, I was aware that I was probably not destined for her because she was much older than I was and I was too young. People will make judgments; she wouldn't think that of me.

Natasha remained motionless for a few moment before turning to face me with a broad smile. "You feel like you're wet to me?" I moaned around her cock as she reached for my covered cunt and gripped it. "Oh my god! Fuck, keep doing that, baby girl.”

I kept moaning all over her length as she quickly and forcefully fucked my mouth, causing me to gag every time her tip touched the back of my throat. I was her sex toy, and I never wanted to be anything else once she put both of her hands on the side of my head.

“I want to fuck your pussy,” She continued to fuck my mouth like an animal while whispering in a rough manner. “I want to—ugh—I want to rip your pussy apart, especially that throat of yours. I bet you’re so tight, baby. Fuck, I can imagine myself ripping you open.”

Rip me open, make me fall apart. I’ll be anything to you, anything. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Natasha drew her length a bit and rolled her hips against my face, her cockhead resting on my tongue instead. “I’m going to cum on your tongue and you better swallow it; don’t waste any drop.”

She was hooding her eyes and idly stroking her dick when I parted my lips wide for her. She glanced at the door once, then grabbed my jaw and drew me in. “Here it comes, baby. I-I’m going to cum—fuck almost there just... Argh!”

She stroked her dick widly as she came onto my tongue. She kept stroking her length, and I had to close my eyes because I could feel some of her semen falling on my face. However, she released all of it on my tongue. Slapping her tip on my face and smearing her length all over it, Natasha let out a long, raspy moan. “You look so pretty in my cum.”

“You c-came a lot...”

With a nod, she reclined on the mattress. "Yes, I did. It's been a while since I've truly done that," she says, continuing to stroke her dick, albeit more slowly. I got up and grabbed the closest towel I could find after realizing that I had to go before Yelena could see or smell the sex in this room. "Are you sure you haven't done that with anyone?"

“I never give blowjobs,” I stated with a small voice as I wiped off my face with a clean towel. “When was the last time you had a girl suck on your dick?”

Natasha was standing in front of me as I turned around. As soon as she gripped my waist and drew me even closer to her body, I felt my breath catch. She let out a long breath and muttered, "You were the first person to give me an orgasm in a very long time, darling."

I chuckled lightly. “I thought you’d never do something like that. With me, at least.”

“You’re very pretty,” She pulls down my shorts, gesturing for me to roll my eyes back as she holds her dick in her palm. “Can I feel you? Just a bit? I just... I want to imagine what it’s like to feel your pussy rubbing on me.”

I gazed into her eyes, taking note of the intensity of her desire. So I lowered my panties to my mid thighs and touched her cock, gently stimulating the sensitive area. We both felt a rush of pleasure as Natasha leaned her head against my shoulder, drawing me in closer to her.

“You’re making me hard again,” She whimpered and pressed her cock against me, causing me to scream quietly. “Oh shit, you are tight!”

“Fuck, Nat—Yelena could go home any minute!”

“Just one minute,” she begged as she looked at me in the eye. “Baby, let me fuck you.”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered and felt myself being pushed against the edge of her desk, her hands hoisting my legs up. “Oh god—”

"God, I’m about to rip you open here,” Natasha spoke with such assurance that it began to pique my interest. I bite my bottom lip as she retreats a little and thrusts back into my cunt. “Let it all out, baby girl. Let Daddy hear you—”

“Y/n, I’m back!”

“Shit!” I exclaimed and pushed her away, pulling up my shorts. She immediately grabbed her boxers and wore them before I reached for the door. “Natasha, she can’t see me like this. Or you like this!”

“Just hide here for a moment,” Natasha led me into her bathroom, responding to my request. I widen my eyes in anticipation, waiting for her next words. “Just for this moment, okay? I’ll handle everything.”

I recognized what I had done as soon as she shut the door. I looked so desperate that I should never have given Natasha a blowjob in the first place. I shook my head carefully, running my fingers through my hair. "What did I do?" Sitting on the floor, with more memories of us playing along in my thoughts, I asked myself. Was I a lousy friend? Would Yelena even accept me if I was?

I don’t know. 

hehe let me know if i should make this as a story

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Two

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis, pregnant reader, brief smut, pregnancy, daddy kink, Wanda being a Natasha hater, dark Natasha if you squint, violence, organ trafficking, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is not proofread y'all so I might edit, please excuse my silly and stupid mistakes; English is not my first language. A friend requested this to me, they said they requested it to a writer here but unfortunately they went on hiatus, so here I am bringing their ideas to life, xo.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

You stared at Natasha in disbelief, hurt and anger warring inside of you as you watched her settle in your shared bed.

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

And suddenly all of the emotions and doubts and fears that you had been pushing aside came rushing back to the surface.

⧗

You paced nervously in your shared bathroom. You had taken not one, but three pregnancy tests, just to be sure. Each one showed the same result: 2 lines=positive. The news had your heart racing. You knew Natasha was coming back today, and the timing of these tests was undeniably nerve-wracking.

"Fuck this…this can't be."

Just as you were contemplating how to break the news, JARVIS’s calm, artificial voice filled the room through the speakers. "Miss Y/L/N, the team has returned. Your partner Agent Romanoff is back."

Panic set in as you realized Natasha could walk in at any moment. You scrambled to hide the pregnancy tests, fumbling with them in your haste. Shoving them into a drawer, you quickly composed yourself, though your heart continued to race.

Before you could even make it through the door Natasha stepped into your shared room, her expression hard and distant. She barely glanced at you as she set her bags down. "Hey," she said curtly.

Your eyes suddenly lost its light when you were welcomed by her cold demeanor. This wasn't the welcome you were used to. Typically, when Natasha came home, she'd greet you with a rose or a small souvenir, accompanied by her warm kisses and affectionate hugs. Sometimes, she would throw you over her shoulder and you ended up tied up in your shared bed. On occasions when you were the one returning from a mission, she would shower you with kisses and hugs the moment you stepped through the door. Sometimes she would even pick you up directly from the mission site, bringing you back to a room meticulously prepared with rose petals on the bed and a luxurious bathtub filled with rose petals and wine. Those gestures always made you feel cherished and loved.

But now, it is different.

"I uhm, I made you cookies baby and your favorite hot chocolate. I know how much you missed them, you know the last time we called…" You scrambled through your words as you noticed Natasha eye you like a predator watching its prey, she slowly dropped her bags and walked towards you.

You were just wearing one of her shirts that is oversized to you and a pink underwear. She reached your face, it was oh-so-gentle, her thumb brushing your cheek, as if you're going to break. She hummed as you talked and scrambled your words. You were falling for her once again as you stared at her eyes…you watched as her eyes slowly dilated. Your eyes grew bigger with panic, but when you were about to pull out from her embrace that's when her other hand gripped your ass and immediately pulled you with a bruising kiss. You moaned, gripping her biceps as her tongue fought its way to your mouth. You felt her hips and her hardened length bucked towards your throbbing core.

"I’ll take a shower." She said as she pulled away, leaving you on edge. She moved past you, heading straight to the bathroom without another word or touch.

You were left alone, gasping for air with an aching heart and a confused mind not to mention the needy ache on your throbbing core. But you immediately brushed your feelings off, you gave her a benefit of the doubt. Missions can be tough at times, you think to yourself so you just went to your shared closet and grabbed some fresh clothes for her to use, you also put some pajamas for yourself.

Couple of minutes after, you went about preparing the bed, expecting Natasha to rest after her shower or maybe you can still talk, you think to yourself once again.

What if she didn't want this?

You screw your eyes shut as you fluff the pillows and tidying up the sheets on your shared bed.

Maybe I’ll just move out and not tell her about it. I’ll just raise our child alone and…I—

You were standing by the bed, lost in your thoughts, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You let out a small gasp, startled by the unexpected embrace.

Natasha smirked against your neck as she felt you jump a little in surprise. She enjoyed the way your body reacted to her touch, and the way you were always on edge whenever she was around.

"I don't remember you wearing this pajamas before I got in the shower, hm?" She whispered seductively, she almost growled in your ear. "You seem distracted, baby."

"Daddy can fix that."

"B-but, wait, Natty, love? Can we talk?"

Natasha was on a mission to make you forget about whatever it was that was on your mind, to make you forget about anything else but her. Her kisses and touches were relentless as she continued to explore your body with her cold hands fresh from the shower, slender fingers digging into your waist before going under your shirt and slowly reaching for your nipples.

"We need to talk," you gasped out, trying to push her away. But it was like trying to move a boulder—she was really determined, like she always is.

"No talking," she whispered against your neck. "Just us."

"Nat, please…" You whined as she soothe her tongue that's gently lapping over yet another mark she just made on your skin.

"Please what, baby?" She smirked, when she felt you tried to pull away, she pressed herself firmly against your back.

"We need to tal—"

"Hm, but we're talking now, love. Aren't we?" Not letting you finish your words.

Natasha watched you as you pulled away from her grasp, her expression betraying no emotion as you pleaded with her to talk. She then chuckled low in her throat, clearly enjoying the way you were pushing her away. Her smirk grew wider as she sensed your frustration.

"Come now, love," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Is there really something so important that we need to talk about right this instant? I'm so tired after that mission, I'd rather just relax with you."

Frustration and anger bubbled inside of you, and you lost it.

"No Natasha! We need to talk now," you almost screamed, your voice filled with desperation. "This can't wait."

Natasha paused for a moment, her eyes flashing with irritation as you screamed at her saying her full name. She was not used to it, and for being disobeyed, let alone shouted at.

"And why can't it wait, huh?" she asked, her voice cold and calm as she leaned back against the bed. "It's late and I'm tired. The mission was exhausting and I’ll just sleep now."

You stared at Natasha in disbelief, hurt and anger warring inside of you as you watched her settle in your shared bed.

The words echoed in your mind.

I am with a child Nat…your child.

And suddenly all of the emotions and doubts and fears that you had been pushing aside came rushing back to the surface.

⧗

As you opened your eyes, you immediately noticed the absence of Natasha beside you. Groggy and still half-asleep, you looked around the room, searching for any sign of her. But she was nowhere to be found. You sat up in bed, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. You rushed to the bathroom and barely made it in time to throw up into the toilet. As you knelt there, feeling weak and dizzy, you realized that you hadn't felt nauseous like this since...since you were pregnant.

After a few minutes, you rinsed out your mouth and stood up, feeling the room spin around you. You braced yourself against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

Suddenly, the voice of JARVIS broke through the silence. "Agent Y/L/N, I have been informed that the Avengers have been summoned for a mission today. Agent Romanoff is currently in the meeting room now together with the team."

As you sat there, trying to process the information that JARVIS had given you, the artificial intelligence noticed your distressed state. "Is everything alright, Agent Y/L/N? Do you need me to call Agent Romanoff?"

You quickly shook your head, trying to hide the panic that had surged through you at JARVIS's suggestion. "No, no, that's alright," you said quickly. "I'm fine, really. There's no need to call her. I’ll be there in a minute."

You silently cursed the presence of JARVIS in your room. "Stupid AI," you muttered to yourself. "Why does he have to be installed everywhere in the compound?"

You breathe, touching your tummy before you proceed to clean the bathroom, the sight of the toilet with your puke making your stomach churn, but you pushed through the nausea and cleaned it thoroughly anyway. Once you were done, you cleaned yourself and moved to the bedroom and quickly dressed yourself, putting on your mission gear. Your eyes fell upon the box of cookies that you had made for Natasha. They sat there, untouched, you felt your heart ache once again and a tear rushing down your cheek. You grabbed several of the cookies and stuffed some into your mouth.

As you walked at the compound Wanda saw you, she noticed the tears streaming down your face. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her words carefully chosen.

"My cookies are good, right?" You asked between sobs.

Wanda stood there, stunned by your question and your emotional response, she carefully chose her words to avoid upsetting you further. "Of course they taste good, love," she replied. "Where's Nata—"

But before she could say anything more, you immediately shoved a handful of cookies into her mouth with your free hand, not wanting to hear the name she's about to mention. Wanda's eyes widened in surprise as she tried to speak, but her words were muffled by your sweet cookies.

As you cried and leaned against Wanda, she patiently let you rest on her shoulder. Even with her mouth still filled with your cookies, she gently reached up to pat your head, offering what comfort she could.

"Shh, it's okay," she tried to comfort you, her words slightly muffled by the food in her mouth.

As your tears began to subside, Wanda gently spoke up. "Hey, Y/N, I think they're waiting for us in the Quinjet now." You nodded and managed to compose yourself and brush off the last remaining crumbs of the cookies out of your suit.

The two of you started making your way towards the Quinjet when you saw Maria.

"Cookie?" You offered her.

Maria looked at you and glanced at Wanda that gave her a just take it or else she'll have a tantrum look. Maria looked skeptical at first, but she knew better than to refuse. Reluctantly, she accepted the last cookie from you. Your smile widened as she ate the last crumb of the cookie.

"What's wrong with her?" Maria asked Wanda as they both trailed behind you.

Wanda's reply came in a low hiss, her irritation palpable. "I don't know! She was crying. And I am going to kill your buddy!"

You turned to look at them but just as you turned around, your eyes narrowed as you picked up on the hint of irritation in the voice of Wanda. Their words were instantly replaced with fake smiles as they noticed your suspicious glare.

As the three of you reached the Quinjet you felt a bit more steady now that you had gotten your emotions under control.

You watch Maria and Wanda get past you before you speak silently aloud, addressing the unborn child in your stomach. "Please be good to mommy okay? We're going on a mission now," you said softly. "I promise you, this will be the last one. Afterwards, I'll retire."

The words were meant as a promise to both the child growing inside you and to yourself—this mission would be your last as an agent.

Before the three of you could come in. The atmosphere onboard the Quinjet was tense as JARVIS addressed the team, scanning the three of you. The AI's voice chimed in, breaking the silence.

"There appears to be a pregnant agent among the three of you."

Wanda, Maria, and yourself froze in your tracks, exchanging nervous glances with each other. The revelation had sent a wave of trepidation through all of you.

JARVIS continued speaking.

"Furthermore, it is suggested that they must not participate in this mission. It is imperative that they rest and refrain from engaging in any strenuous activities."

You felt the weight of JARVIS' words settle upon you, the realization that you were in fact the pregnant agent in question sinking in.

"Stupid AI." You muttered as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That's not me, I just fucked Darcy last night." Maria held both of her hands in the air.

"What the hell? You didn't need to tell us that!" Yelena shouted in disgust.

"I told you they were doing it. Give me my 20 dollars, Sam." Tony celebrated and pointed a finger gun at the Falcon.

Sam went behind Steve and whispered, "Let me borrow 20 dollars."

"My money can wait, Cinderella!" Tony laughed as he patted Sam’s shoulder.

The moment Maria spoke up, causing the team to gag at her blunt revelation, your heart skipped a beat. Everyone's attention was suddenly drawn away from the earlier revelation of this stupid AI, and you breathed a small sigh of relief.

But as you glanced over at Natasha, you could still feel her eyes boring on you. Her gaze was intense, and you could sense her suspicion. The tension in the air was thick as the team attempted to process Maria's blunt statement.

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked at Wanda, silently pleading with her through your eyes. She picked up on your silent plea, understanding the truth that lay hidden beneath your words.

Emotional in the morning, check. Wanda began, as if ticking off a list in her mind. Cookie cravings, check.

This may not be a complete list but I know it's not me.

You watched her standing beside you, she was fidgeting but in her mind everything was just hitting the nail on the head. Then, with a moment of hesitation, Wanda closed her eyes and spoke three simple words.

"I am pregnant."

Your eyes widened in shock as Wanda spoke up. The team wasted no time in congratulating her, enveloping her in hugs and celebrations.

"You're pregnant huh?!" Yelena shrieked in excitement, she was the first to pull her in a tight hug.

"Yeah it's me!" Wanda winced slightly, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie she was covering up on your behalf.

"We have a little witch incoming, yeah?" Steve’s eyes sparkled with joy.

Tony couldn't help but chime in as well, a smirk on his face. "We didn't bet on this one, Wilson."

Sam chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, I know."

As Natasha approached Wanda to offer her congratulations, Wanda's usual soft demeanor vanished. Her anger and frustration with Natasha over the previous situation with you were evident even though she has no idea about it.

"Congratulations, Wanda." Natasha spoke gently, extending a hug.

But Wanda swiftly deflected her affection, stepping back to maintain a distance. "Save it, Natasha," she responded curtly.

Natasha, trying to shrug off Wanda's cold approach towards her, mentally blamed it on the emotions associated with pregnancy.

"Must be those pregnancy hormones," she murmured under her breath.

As the team continues to surround Wanda, she snuck a glance in your direction. You mouthed a silent "thank you" to her, acknowledging the sacrifice she had made. In turn, Wanda mouthed back a quiet, "Take care and the baby," her words carrying a deep undertone of understanding and worry.

Suddenly, Natasha walked towards you and asked, "Are you okay?" she gently touches your arm. But you ignored her question, choosing to remain silent. Your mind was elsewhere, torn between gratitude towards Wanda for what she did for you and a deep desire to keep your own pregnancy hidden from the team and even from the mother of your child.

Without responding to her, you gently shrugged her hand off your arm and moved past her, walking into the Quinjet. You avoided her gaze, not wanting to betray your emotions.

The Quinjet lifted off, leaving behind a scene of excitement and well wishes for the witch. You retreated into the corner, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your own presence.

As the aircraft ascended, you instinctively placed your hand on your stomach, gently caressing the growing life within.

The team received a mission assignment from Fury to infiltrate a hospital involved in illegal organ trafficking, targeting children. The focus was the children's wing, and the objective was to put an end to the operation. It was emphasized that no stone should be left unturned to ensure the safety of the children involved. The intel also suggested the involvement of Hydra's experimentation. While specific details about their latest projects remain undisclosed, their history in this regard is grim.

Maria approached you, her expression was serious as she sat down beside you. "Left wing, that's ours."

"And it's the center of the operation, correct?" You confirmed, a pit of anxiety knotting in your stomach.

She nodded. "That's right. The operation is taking place there. You ready for this?"

You subconsciously once again placed your hand on your stomach and took a good look at Natasha who was piloting the Quinjet.

"Yes," you murmured, though the nervous tremble in your voice gave you away.

⧗

"Guys."

Natasha, Bucky, and Bruce exchanged looks of concern as they heard Wanda's voice through their comms.

"Wanda?" they called in unison.

Bruce was the first to speak. "You shouldn't be on comms right now. You're supposed to be resting. I'll call Dr. Cho to check on you."

Wanda winced at the mention of Dr. Cho, once again reminded of the cover up she had to do…or the lie rather. She knew the truth, but she couldn't reveal it to the others, she's not in the right position to say it.

The three immediately noticed Wanda's distress and exchanged alarmed glances.

"What's wrong, Wanda?" Bruce asked.

"Where's Y/N?" Wanda hurriedly asked.

"She's out now on the mission with Maria." Bucky informed Wanda through comms.

"I knew this was going to happen. Fuck!" Wanda hissed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Natasha's brow furrowed, barely glancing up from her mission report at the mention of your name.

"Bucky, get her back in." Wanda immediately demanded, ignoring the presence of Natasha through the comms.

Natasha’s confusion deepened, and her frustration grew as Wanda demanded someone else to get her girlfriend back to the Quinjet. "And why should he do that?"

"Just get her back in!" Wanda insisted, her voice rising slightly.

Natasha's frustration peaked, realizing Wanda was deliberately shutting her out. But she remained calm, not wanting to distress her, "Wanda, you must be tired. Right now you should be focusing on yourself and the baby. Y/N will be fine, don't worry. She's good at looking out for herself."

Wanda’s irritation boiled over, her patience wearing thin. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath as she whispered.

"She might have a hard time looking out for two."

"What? What do you mean, Wanda?" Bucky asked once more, trying to grasp the meaning behind Wanda’s words.

"Maria can handle herself just fine, Wanda. Y/N doesn't need to look out for her." Natasha responded dismissively, trying to reassure her once again that you don't need to look out for your partner.

But clearly, Natasha knows nothing.

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant, Romanoff! Your girlfriend might have a hard time looking out for herself and for the baby growing in her stomach! So right now, Romanoff I need you to get your girlfriend out on that mission before anything happens to her!" The anger of Wanda echoed through the earpiece of the three Avengers.

"I had to cover up for her earlier, I’m not the one who's pregnant, she was. She doesn't want anyone to know, even you, Natasha, ‘cause it seems like you don't have time to talk about it." Wanda gritted her teeth as she revealed the cover up she did for you.

Then suddenly an urgent call for backup was heard through the comms.

"Back up, we need back up!"

It was Maria, her voice sounding strained and her signal cutting in and out.

"Natasha! Y/N…I can't see Y/N, Y/N is taken!"

Natasha's blood ran cold at Maria's words. The word sent a shiver down her spine, and her heart thumped heavily against her chest. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"No," Natasha whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear and anger welled up within her as she heard the words.

Without a moment's hesitation, they heard Tony respond, "I'm on my way, Maria. I'll get there as soon as I can. And you Romanoff, you have to get your girlfriend!"

Wanda hissed harshly to Natasha through the comms, "If anything happens to my bestfriend and my niece I will kill you myself, Natasha. I will fucking kill you myself."

Natasha's jaw clenched at Wanda's harsh words. She knew she was only expressing her fear and concern for you and the baby, but the threat still stung.

She gritted her teeth and muttered a retort.

"I will kill myself if I won’t be able to save them. So save it, Wanda."

⧗

The room was eerily quiet, a chill running down Natasha's spine as she scanned her surroundings. She cautiously stepped forward, her senses on high alert. Suddenly, a figure lunged from the shadows, but Natasha was quick to react. Before they could make a move, Natasha had kicked away their weapon and delivered a swift punch to their stomach.

Another figure appeared behind her, but Natasha swiftly dodged the attack and delivered a well-placed kick to their chest.

As she fought off the attackers, Natasha unsheathed her batons, the metal gleaming in the dim light. With a flick of her wrist, she extended them and began to whirl them around, blocking attacks and delivering precise strikes to vulnerable spots. Meanwhile, she kept her other hand free, ready to use her widow bites at a moment's notice.

Natasha's heart raced as she sprinted through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing against the cold concrete. Natasha's mind went on high alert the moment she entered the room and saw you lying unconscious on the bed and a doctor preparing some medical supplies beside you. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight, her adrenaline pumping through her veins, making her nerves tingle.

The doctor spoke up, his voice breaking the tense silence in the room.

"You finally came," he said. "Your wife's been waiting for you.”

"Who are you?!" Natasha's voice held a dangerous edge, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the doctor, her gun pointing at him.

The doctor raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a smug look on his face as he regarded Natasha's gun pointed in his direction.

"Now, now, Romanoff," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern. "You wouldn't want to cause any distress to Mrs. Romanoff here, would you? You might wanna put that gun down."

Natasha’s grip on her gun tightened momentarily before she reluctantly began to lower it. She didn’t want to risk endangering you further by provoking him.

The doctor smirked, clearly amused by her cautiousness. He knows damn well how much power he holds now that he has you captive.

"I'm Doctor Strange. And…I am your wife's doctor for today. She's your wife right? Girlfriend? Partner..? Whore? Whatever you want but I prefer that we call her your wife, okay Romanoff?"

Natasha’s heart plummeted as he pulled out a surgical knife, her fear instantly skyrocketing.

"Don't! Do not fucking touch her, I’ll make you regret it!" she snarled, but he seemed unbothered by her threat.

Strange smirked, the glint in his eyes making Natasha's skin crawl. He began to rip your suit open, exposing your stomach.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger but also fear for you.

The doctor chuckled, his expression smug as he began to apply some ultrasound gel to your stomach, his eyes glued to your bare skin.

Strange's tone was mocking as he asked Natasha a question that cut straight to her heart.

"Did you know she was pregnant?" he asked, as if he were casually inquiring about the weather.

Natasha swallowed hard, she almost choke with her words, "I uh...I didn't..."

"You didn't know until now did you?" Strange chuckled, a sadistic smirk on his face not letting her finish, "Oh, that's a shame," he taunted.

"You are a bad mother."

Natasha flinched as the words hit her, and for a moment, she was speechless. The words stung, even more than any physical blow could have.

Her mind flashed back to the night before this mission. She remembered that you had tried to talk to her, begged her to have a conversation but she dismissed you.

Now she hated herself for that, the realization hit her with a sickening weight, and she silently berated herself for her ignorance. You shouldn't be here if she listened to you.

Strange hummed as he began to move the transducer around your stomach. He looked up at Natasha, a sly smile on his face.

"I wasn't always a doctor, you know," he said, his tone almost nostalgic. "In fact," he continued, his gaze returning to the monitor. "I started out working with Hydra when my sister died."

"You might have heard of them, right? For sure you intel already informed you that. Not exactly the most upstanding group of people." He murmured.

"Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!"

Natasha's eyes flickered towards the ultrasound machine, her heart pounding as she saw a life, her offspring on your stomach. The sight of the tiny, flickering image of the baby inside you softened her expression momentarily.

Strange chuckled as he watched Natasha. He leaned casually against the counter, one hand resting on the ultrasound machine before he got back to examine your stomach once again.

"As I was saying," he continued, his tone casual. "I didn't want to remain a lowly foot soldier forever," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I wanted more power, more control. So I branched out on my own."

Strange pressed the transducer deeper into your stomach, causing you to whimper in pain.

"Don’t—"

The doctor immediately pointed his finger in the air, shushing her.

He then continued, his tone nonchalant, his gaze fixed on the monitor, watching the image of your stomach intently. "I started my own precious business and then…"

"Everything I'd worked for, years of hard work and sacrifice!" he spat out, the pressure of the transducer increased and he watched how it dug deeper to your stomach on the monitor. "And you, Avengers just waltz in like they own the place and ruin it all!"

Strange paused, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. The pressure on your abdomen loosened slightly before he glanced at Natasha, his expression almost apologetic.

"Sorry," he said, his tone smoothing back to its usual calm. "I didn't mean to shout. It's bad for the baby, you know." He chuckled softly, his hand gently caressing your stomach.

Natasha's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Strange's expression shift from calm to enraged in an instant. His words and his behavior were unpredictable, and that made her more anxious. She maintained a facade of calm, her eyes never leaving you.

"Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place." He smiled, an evil one, his eyes flicking up to Natasha, wanting her to take a good look on the monitor.

Natasha's expression remained neutral, her eyes fixed on the ultrasound monitor as Strange pointed out the growing body of your baby.

"Isn't that nice?" he said, his tone clearly a mockery.

"Must be hard," with a sinister edge to his voice. "Knowing there's nothing you can do to protect what's most precious to you."

The doctor's laughter was cold and cruel. But what was truly horrifying was the way his gaze dropped to your abdomen, and he began to caress your stomach with a gesture that made Natasha's skin crawl.

"All you can do is watch and pray I don't do anything...unwanted," he repeated, his tone sickly sweet.

He then slowly grabbed the surgical knife and his eyes scanning Natasha's face for any reaction. A cunning smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he noticed her flinch.

"Oh, did that scare you?" he asked, his voice dripping with menace. "Why are you scared? You're not the one lying on this table?"

He chuckled darkly, waving the knife in front of her face.

Strange's fingers continued to play with the knife, slowly twirling it around in his hand. He seemed to take pleasure in seeing how it made Natasha uneasy. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded against her chest as she watched him.

She tried to keep her emotions in check, desperately wanting to remain calm, but the sight of the gleaming blade in his hand made her instinct scream in alarm.

Strange leaned back, the knife momentarily forgotten in his hand as he turned his attention to your still unconscious form. He moved closer to you, his fingers gently prying your eyelids open.

"Beautiful eyes," he commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. "These eyes could be a valuable asset to the right people."

Natasha's ears perked up at Strange's words, a lump forming in her throat as she realized his intentions.

"What the fuck did you say?"

"Oh, Romanoff. Your baby might hear you curse. You'll kiss your baby with that mouth?"

He moved away from examining your eyes, setting the knife down on the counter. He reached for a file that was among the various medical supplies and paperwork scattered around the room. He flipped through the pages, reading aloud to Natasha.

"Martin Joseph Novarich," he said, his eyes scanning the file. "He's just eight years old. Familiar with the name?”

Strange continued to read from the file, oblivious to Natasha's inner struggle.

"The boy has a rare genetic disorder that affects his eyesight," he said. "He needs a corneal transplant to restore his vision, and the process requires a perfect donor match. And his father, the president, is willing to do anything to save his only child.”

Strange smirked, his eyes scanning Natasha's face.

"Think about it," he said, his tone almost teasing. "Your wife's eyes could give the president's son a new lease on life. Or her liver could help someone else in desperate need."

Her anger flared at his words, her muscles tensing as she struggled to control her emotions when he started listing off your organs one by one, suggesting that it could be used for donation. The thought of your organs being harvested like some kind of donor bank was almost too much to bear, it made her skin crawl, it made her blood boil.

"And let's not forget," Strange added, a sly note to his voice, "that she might have more than just one healthy organ."

"She's an agent," he pointed out. "She probably leads a healthy lifestyle, so her organs are likely in great shape. And I think yours too, Romanoff.”

Strange suddenly put on a fake frown, pretending to be remorseful as he took a glance on your abdomen.

"Oh, my apologies," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "I almost forgot about the poor, innocent child in your wife's stomach." He grabbed a cloth and wiped the gel out of your skin’s abdomen.

He then trailed the knife over your stomach, Natasha's breath hitched in her throat.

"Don't," she hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare.”

The doctor continued to trail the surgical knife and then he finally nicked the skin on your abdomen, Natasha's face contorted with anger and horror.

"Oops…too late. Just a small one, don't worry." Strange chuckled darkly, his eyes locking with Natasha's. Her eyes trailing between the knife and on your stomach.

A loud booming sound rang outside the room, startling both Strange and Natasha. Seeing an opportunity, Natasha reached for the gun she had to put down earlier. She aimed it at Strange, who slowly raised his hands in surrender.

In a desperate move, Strange pushed your bed towards Natasha, trying to interfere with her aim and make her miss. However, Natasha was too quick and too skilled. She pulled your bed towards her and immediately placed your unconscious state behind her back making sure that your bed was within range.

She immediately turned when she heard a clinking sound. Natasha fired, the bullet hitting Strange in the shoulder.

"I missed." Natasha sighed as she placed the gun at your bed. "That was a very dumb move doctor."

Natasha's voice was icy as she spoke, her eyes locked on Strange's face.

"You know what, doctor?" Natasha set the gun down on your bed. Her hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it before moving slowly and gently over your stomach, wiping away some of the blood that slowly dripped there.

Natasha walked over to where the doctor was cowering, a surgical knife in her hand. She knelt in front of him trailing the knife in the wounded shoulder.

"I am a great shot when I'm pissed."

She then held his shoulder ignoring his startled yelp of pain, she deftly used the knife to dig deeper into his shoulder, intent on retrieving the bullet lodged there. She extracted it from his flesh.

As she dug deeper, working to extract the bullet, Strange cried out in pain. But instead of feeling any remorse, Natasha felt a deep sense of satisfaction at seeing him suffer. She knew she had the upper hand now, and she was going to make him pay for what he had done to you.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she muttered, her eyes fixed on his face. “I told you, I’ll make you regret...”

"Touching..."

"My..."

"Wife! "

With a final tug, Natasha finally got the bullet with a satisfied smirk briefly crossing her face. Natasha picked up the gun from your bed, loaded the bullet back in the chamber and spun it slowly with a flick of her wrist.

She turned her gaze back to Strange, who was still reeling from the pain. Her voice was low and dangerous as she spoke.

"And doctor," she said, the gun pointed straight at his head.

"I don't waste a bullet. Ever."

Next

[just-aake]

Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies. 

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life. 

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power. 

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you. 

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends. 

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place. 

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it. 

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar. 

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward. 

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull. 

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur. 

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…? 

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions. 

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously. 

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support. 

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you. 

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building. 

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes. 

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering. 

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus. 

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat. 

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible. 

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes. 

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her. 

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge. 

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?” 

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression. 

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.” 

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks. 

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence. 

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding. 

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better. 

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?” 

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight. 

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?” 

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings. 

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?” 

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options. 

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life. 

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory. 

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement. 

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms. 

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again. 

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors. 

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger. 

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer. 

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship? 

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself. 

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side. 

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze. 

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews. 

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?” 

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 2

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

[bellaveux]

AND I LOVE HER | n. romanoff x fem!reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader | navigation

summary: natasha’s heart has always been yours, but after your relationship deepens with a one-night stand, she struggles to find the right words and the perfect moment to confess her true feelings.

content warnings: 18+ MDNI. natasha romanoff x fem!reader, fluff, soft!natasha, medic!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn ish (?), pining, natasha being absolutely in love, mentions of drinking/alcohol, injuries, starts off with smut; top!natasha, bottom!reader, oral (r! receiving)

word count: 12.7K+

Natasha could barely think.

The hallways of the compound are quiet, the distant hum of Tony’s party barely reaching this far. The dim light casts long shadows against the sleek walls, flickering slightly as if they’re unsure of its own presence. Footsteps stumble softly over the polished floor, the sound swallowed by the thick air of anticipation that clings to the both of you. Your breaths are uneven, soft laughs and giggles falling from your lips, heavy with the weight of unsaid things and the burn of too much alcohol. Fingers, eager and trembling, trace the curves of bodies, sliding beneath fabric and finding warmth. Her lips meet yours again, desperate and searching, leaving a trail of stolen kisses as the two of you move—half blind, half guided by something stronger than sight. You didn’t need words; the world outside the glow of this narrow hallway is distant, unimportant. All you cared about now is her, how she pulls you closer, leading you closer to her room just ahead.

Natasha could barely think at all. Everything in her mind blurred, thoughts slipping through her fingers like water as soon as they tried to form. The only thing she could focus on was you. The taste of your lips. Sweet and intoxicating. The way they fit perfectly against hers, they’d been made for her to kiss. It sent a shockwave through her body each time your mouths collided, obliterating any coherent thoughts. Her hands, strong and firm, moved on their own, gripping your waist, sliding up your back, over the silk of your dress, desperate to feel more of you, to pull you closer until there was no space left.

She couldn’t think, didn’t want to think.

All that mattered was this—your body pressed against hers, trapping you between her and the door of her room, the soft moans that escaped between kisses, the way her heart pounded in her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her lips. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and she never wanted it to stop.

The warmth of the alcohol buzzed through Natasha’s veins, making everything feel hazy and wonderfully unreal. Having you in front of her like this, in her arms, underneath her hands, felt unreal. Her head was light, the edges of the world around her blurred as she kissed you, deepening the pleasant fog in her mind. The room tilted slightly every time she pulled you closer, but she didn’t care—if anything, it made the moment feel even more like a dream she didn’t want to wake from. The sharp edges of her usual control were dulled by the alcohol, making her bolder, less cautious. She found herself giggling against your pretty mouth, a sound she barely recognized as her own, drunk on both the wine and the feel of your beautiful body.

With shaky hands, Natasha reached behind you, her lips trailing your neck in sweet, wet kisses as her fingers fumbled for the zipper of your dress. She found the zipper a second later and slowly, deliberately, began to tug it down, feeling the tension in the material as it loosened around your body. The sound of the zipper sliding down was almost lost in the charged silence, but Natasha heard it, like a release of everything she’d been holding back. When the zipper finally reached the end of its line, Natasha let out a deep, shuddering sigh against your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

“Fuck, detka…” Natasha closes her eyes, letting her hands draw away from your back to trail them down to your thighs, her palms flat against your skin as they push the fabric of your dress upwards.

You can feel the pads of her fingers finding their way up, playing with the soft lace of your panties. Natasha moved slowly, savoring the moment for as long as she could. Her mouth paints your skin in light hickeys, trailing downwards to the valley of your breasts while you bring your hands up to run them through her red hair, pulling on it slightly to kiss her deeply once again.

“N-Natasha, please…” You muttered against her lips.

You could feel it—the way Natasha’s lips curved into that maddeningly smug smirk against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. It was as if Natasha knew exactly what she was doing to you, and of course, she did. Your skin burned where Natasha touched you, her fingers trailing with deliberate slowness, as if savoring every reaction, every trembling gasp.

“Please, what, krasivaya?” She asked, her voice low and seductive.

You whimpered, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, trying to tug her jacket off of her. “I need you... Please… Hurry…”

“You are so impatient,” Natasha smiles and kisses you softly. “I’m getting there, darling. Don’t worry.”

Your fingers fumbled with the edge of Natasha’s suit jacket once again, and your movements hurried, almost desperate, as you tried to push it off her shoulders. A soft whine escaped your lips, frustration mingling with the need that pulsed through you, but Natasha just smiled against your mouth, pausing the frenzied kisses for a brief moment. She pressed a softer, lingering kiss to your lips, calming the storm with her gentleness, before reaching up to shrug the jacket off herself. It slipped down her arms and hit the floor in a whisper of fabric, and then she was back, her hands finding your face, her lips capturing hers again.

Natasha guided you backwards with a practiced ease, never breaking apart from your lips. Her hands found their way to your thighs once more, fingers gripping the soft skin through the fabric of your dress. With a fluid motion, she lifted you off the ground, pulling you close as your lips collided again, more urgent this time, more desperate. Your legs instinctively wrapped around Natasha’s waist, your bodies fitting together as though they’d done this a hundred times before. Natasha’s grip tightened, the strength in her arms steadying them as she carried you across her room, never once faltering. The bed was just a few steps away, and the world outside your heated breaths felt impossibly distant. When she reached the edge of the mattress, Natasha lowered you down gently, her hands still firm on your thighs.

God, she’s always wanted to see you like this. Natasha had often imagined what it would be like to see you in this exact moment, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. You were sprawled across the bed, her bed, your dress now a loosely draped, tangled mess that did little to cover your body. Your hair, once neatly styled, now fell wild and disheveled around your flushed face.

With a sense of urgency, Natasha’s fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress. The fabric slipped slowly away from your shoulders, revealing the expanse of your skin beneath, and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. As the dress fell away, pooling around your waist, Natasha’s eyes roamed over your curves, your breasts, with a kind of awe that was both intense and profound. The sight of you, bare and vulnerable before her, ignited something deep within Natasha—sending a wave straight to her core. Every inch of your skin seemed to glow under the dim light. You were so beautiful.

Natasha pulled on your dress until it was completely off of you, mindlessly throwing it behind her, her eyes never leaving your body. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, each one more stubborn than the last as she tried to hurry through them, her impatience palpable. Her gaze never left you, a vision she could scarcely believe was real. The way you looked at her—eyes heavy with desire, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath—only made Natasha’s hands more unsteady. Her shirt slipped open, one button finally giving way, then another, watching how your lips were slightly parted, breathless. There was a hunger in Natasha’s stare, an urgency she couldn’t suppress, as if unbuttoning her shirt fast enough might bring her closer to the moment she’d been silently craving for longer than she cared to admit. She could feel the warmth of your gaze on her, too, as each button gave way, the fabric parting to reveal the skin beneath.

“You’re so beautiful, Natasha,” you said breathlessly.

She smiled again, leaning down to kiss you between the valley of your breasts, “I’ve got nothing on you, detka.”

Natasha leaned down, hovering over you, her lips pressing softly against your neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. She lingered there for a moment, savoring the way your pulse quickened beneath her kisses as soft gasps escaped your mouth. Each touch was careful, brushing against the delicate skin just below your jaw, then down the hollow of your throat. Natasha’s kisses grew bolder with each passing second as they moved further south, grazing the curve of your collarbone to the swell of your breasts.

You laid back, closing your eyes as her lips explored your skin and the pads of her fingers softly rolled over your hardened nipples. A sigh falls from your mouth as Natasha’s breath glides closely over your chest, her lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking softly. Her tongue darts out, swirling around it, and your hands find themselves resting against Natasha’s shoulders, pulling her even closer.

“Spread your legs, for me, baby,” Natasha whispered against your stomach, her hands gently guiding your thighs apart as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You parted your legs without a second thought. But the reality of it—the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your breath hitched and your body responded with such raw, trusting openness—made Natasha’s heart pound in a way that left her almost dizzy. She could feel the heat radiating between them, the anticipation thickening the air as she pressed closer, savoring every trembling moment. Natasha felt that she could die happy right here, with you beneath her, so vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

God, you were so pretty.

Her fingers traced the delicate edge of your lace panties, her touch light and almost absentminded as she toyed with the fabric. She could feel the softness of the lace under her fingertips—the way it barely clung to your skin. Natasha didn’t rush—she liked the slow burn, to see you squirm, itching to get her to touch you, the way your breath hitched each time her fingers lingered a little too long or dipped a little too close to where she knew you wanted her the most. Natasha’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, catching the mixture of frustration and desire there, and she couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged on her lips as she continued to play with your panties.

“Natasha, please… Touch me, already…”

She licked her lips, parting them slightly as she listened to your pretty voice begging for her. Fuck, it was making her feel dizzy. “Gonna make you feel so good, angel. Trust me.”

Then, your hand found Natasha’s with an urgency that spoke of all the words she couldn’t say, fingers wrapping around hers and guiding underneath her panties. The fabric felt impossibly thin over her hand, and the wetness, the heat radiating from your skin sent a wave of electricity through Natasha that left her breathless. You were so wet, oh, fuck, and for a moment, Natasha forgot how to breathe, how to think—everything narrowed down to this simple, maddening desire.

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” You whispered.

The sigh that escaped Natasha’s lips was involuntary, a soft sound of surrender, as she let herself be led by your need, her own mind dissolving into the heady rush of desire that clouded everything else.

The teasing only lasted so long before something snapped inside Natasha, a sharp, undeniable urge taking over, using her other hand to grab your wrist and pin it down against the mattress. She wanted to be the one to do it—to touch you, to make you come. Her finger hooked around the delicate waistband of your lace panties. There was no hesitation as she tugged them down, the lace slipping effortlessly over your hips. Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest as she discarded the fabric, her breaths coming quicker now, driven by the sheer intensity of her need.

Natasha nodded her head absentmindedly, her mind drowning in thoughts of you and your pussy. She said quietly, to herself almost, “Wanna fuck you…”

Her hands found their way under your thighs once more, lifting them up slightly, spreading them even wider as she leaned down to face your glistening pussy. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t give you a single warning, before she dove right in, licking a stripe through your folds, collecting your sweet wetness on her tongue.

Your moan was deep, guttural, a sound that reverberated through the quiet room as Natasha’s tongue ravaged you. It was as if every nerve in your body lit up at once—a shockwave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. Instinctively, your legs tightened around Natasha’s head, your thighs trembling as they pressed against Natasha’s cheeks, holding her there. Each flick of Natasha’s tongue against your pussy sent you spiraling further, your moans growing louder and needier, echoing in the space around them. Your fingers tangled in Natasha’s hair as she fucked you, gripping tightly as your hips began to move on their own, seeking out every bit of friction you could find. Your whole world narrowed down to this one moment—Natasha’s mouth on you, the unbearable pleasure building inside you, and the primal need to keep her right where she was, between your legs.

Natasha felt like she’d stumbled into heaven itself. It was intoxicating—every taste, every subtle movement. Your body trembled under her touch, and Natasha reveled in it, savoring the way your flavor spread across her tongue, sweet and delicate. She moved slowly, deliberately, wanting to make this moment last forever, her hands gripping your thighs as if she were anchoring herself. Natasha closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the taste of you, thinking that she could stay here forever—right here, where nothing else existed but your taste, your scent, and the soft, breathless sounds that escaped her lips. You tasted better than Natasha had ever imagined—sweet, salty, intoxicating, like some forbidden nectar she had been craving for far too long. It felt like drinking water after wandering in a desert. Every lick, every pressure of her tongue, flicking against your clit, delving into your pussy, made Natasha feel like she was floating. She devoured you.

“Fuck, Natasha—“

Natasha could feel the shift in your body before you even registered it yourself—the way your muscles tensed, your breath catching in your throat as Natasha’s tongue became rougher, sucking on your clit harshly without mercy. It was a subtle change at first, just the slightest arch of your back. She could sense the way your body was coiling tight, your hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white, as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control. But the more Natasha pressed into her, the more she felt you surrender, hips lifting off the bed, with each swirl of Natasha’s tongue. The low, broken sounds spilling from your lips were growing desperate, and Natasha knew you were close; she could feel it in the way your thighs trembled, in the way her head tilted back, and in the way you tried to pull away slightly, as if you were scared of your own climax.

“N-Natasha… ‘Tasha, I-I’m cumming… I–“

Then, it snapped. Your body arched and trembled, reaching the peak of your pleasure, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm as you moaned her name aloud. Natasha’s hands were steady and guiding on your thighs as she licked you softly, helping you ride through the waves, making sure you could feel her—and only her.

“That’s it, baby…” She murmured against you.

When you began to calm down, Natasha pulled back slightly, giving you space but keeping her gaze fixed strictly on you. The sight of you, your body still quivering and your eyes fluttering open to reveal those pretty eyes of yours, struck Natasha as the most beautiful thing she has ever witnessed. You were trembling so much, and Natasha couldn’t help the smug smile that appeared on her face.

You were still trembling, your body humming with the aftershocks of release, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. But even in your dazed state, you reached out instinctively, your hands searching for Natasha, needing to feel her, to ground yourself in the warmth and presence of the woman who had just unraveled you completely. Natasha didn’t hesitate. The moment your fingers brushed against her, Natasha leaned in, wrapping her arms around your trembling body. Natasha found your lips again, kissing you deeply, the kiss not hurried or frantic like before, but slow and full of something deeper—something that tasted like promise, like... devotion. You could taste yourself on her lips, and Natasha couldn’t help but melt as you moaned softly into her mouth.

Natasha hovered above you, leaving just the barest sliver of space between the two of you. She pulled back, barely a centimeter, her breath mingling with yours, warm and uneven. For a moment, Natasha did nothing but stare, her gaze locked on your half-lidded eyes, the way they fluttered with each rapid breath. Your chest rose and fell beneath her, still struggling to catch your breath, to stop your body from trembling, your lips slightly parted and glistening. Natasha couldn’t help but smile softly, taking in the sight of you like this—disarmed, vulnerable, beautiful in a way that made Natasha’s heart ache with affection. Fuck, she wanted to stay here forever.

“Hi,” you whispered breathlessly, almost with a shy smile.

“Hi,” she murmured, her smile growing. Then Natasha brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers lingering there as she asked, “You okay?”

You nodded, still catching your breath, but your smile grew a little wider, a little surer. “More than okay,” you replied softly, your hand finding Natasha’s hand and squeezing it gently. “You?”

Natasha’s smile deepened, a rare, genuine expression that felt as natural as breathing in this moment. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m good.”

She found herself lost in the quiet afterglow, her gaze lingering on you with a kind of reverence she rarely allowed herself to feel. You looked so peaceful now, your face still flushed, and your hair fanned out against the pillow. There was something so effortlessly captivating about you—something that made Natasha’s heart stumble in her chest every time she looked at you like this. The way your lips curved into a soft, contented smile, your eyes half-closed and still dazed with pleasure, made Natasha’s breath hitch.

She could almost feel the words forming on her tongue before she even realized it.

I love you.

Natasha blinked. She almost said it. The words pressed against her tongue, desperate to be spoken, to be released. But just as quickly, she swallowed them back. It was a truth that had settled deep inside her, so much so that every time she looked at you, really looked at you, it almost felt impossible not to say it. You looked so peaceful, so breathtakingly beautiful in the dim light of her room, your lips still slightly parted as if caught in a dream. Natasha’s fingers brushed gently against your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw as she stared, mesmerized. In this moment, you were everything to her—so pretty, so real, and so entirely hers.

God, she wanted to say it.

But, for the first time in as long as she could remember, fear gripped her. Not the kind of fear she was used to—the physical, tangible kind that came with a mission or a fight—but something deeper, something far more terrifying. Would it be too fast? Would you feel the same way? Would you say it back? The thought twisted in her chest, making her hesitate. Natasha wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this unsure. She wasn’t scared of much in life, but the possibility of rejection—of putting her heart on the line and finding out it wasn’t enough—was enough to keep the words trapped inside.

She stayed silent, her gaze lingering on you with a tenderness she couldn’t fully express, her heart aching with the love she didn’t dare speak.

Instead, she kissed you again—slowly at first, as if savoring the taste of your lips might somehow drown out the urge to confess. The kiss deepened quickly, turning desperate and consuming, a way to silence the fears that clawed at her insides. Natasha’s hands roamed over your body once more, fingers tracing familiar paths, as if she were trying to memorize every inch of you, to carve this moment into her memory so it would never fade. The world outside this room ceased to exist; all that mattered was the way you responded to her touch, the soft gasps and whispered sighs that filled the air between them. 

Natasha didn’t stop, couldn’t stop—each kiss, each touch, every moan, became a plea for more time, more of you, as if by making love to you again and again, she could delay the inevitable, could keep the fragile bubble of this night from bursting. The hours slipped by in a blur of passion and quiet intensity, the darkness outside deepening as Natasha pressed closer, held you tighter, and chased the fleeting moments that seemed to slip through her fingers like sand. It wasn’t enough—it would never be enough—but for now, it was all she had.

And so she loved you through the night, as if time itself could be bent to her will, as if each kiss, each whispered name, could stave off the dawn just a little longer.

In the morning, you were gone.

Natasha woke slowly, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her as she blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she reached out instinctively, her hand searching the space beside her, expecting to find you. But all she felt was the cool, empty sheets where you had been. She let out a quiet sigh, already knowing why. Your work started early—too early—and you were always gone before the sun fully rose, slipping out of bed with a quiet grace that Natasha admired but, at times like this, resented.

She stayed there, her hand resting on the vacant spot beside her, feeling the absence like a weight on her chest. The room was too quiet without your soft breathing; the lingering scent of your hair was still faintly on the pillow. Natasha turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind a haze of thoughts she couldn’t quite pin down. She knew you had to go—it was just how things were—but that didn’t stop the hollow ache that settled in her stomach, the longing for just a few more minutes of your presence.

After a while, Natasha sat up slowly, her movements sluggish and heavy as the quiet of the morning settled around her. The moment she lifted her head from the pillow, a dull, throbbing ache bloomed at her temples, spreading like a slow wave of discomfort. She groaned softly, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as if that might somehow lessen the pounding in her skull. The aftermath of last night’s drinks had finally caught up with her, and it wasn’t letting her forget it.

Natasha let out a breath, trying to shake off the haze of exhaustion that clung to her, but the effort only seemed to make her head spin. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind, but it was no use. The room felt too bright, the air too still, and the emptiness beside her in the bed only added to the strange sense of disorientation. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as the movement sent another jolt of pain through her head. It wasn’t the worst hangover she’d ever had, but it was enough to make her wish she could just lie back down and sleep it off—except, of course, that spot next to her was still cold and empty, and there was no comfort in the silence.

She turned her head toward the nightstand, squinting against the light as her eyes landed on a small note propped up beside a familiar pill bottle. She blinked, then reached for the note, the crinkling sound of paper somehow comforting in the quiet room. The words were written in your neat, slightly slanted handwriting: “Thank you for last night. And don’t forget to take these! :)” The smiley face was unmistakably you—a touch of warmth that made Natasha’s chest tighten in the best way.

A slow smile crept across her lips as she read the note again, and again... and again. The headache still pulsed faintly behind her eyes, but it suddenly didn’t feel as bad. The simple gesture, the thoughtfulness of it—you thinking of her in the early morning hours, leaving behind something to make sure Natasha would be okay—it was enough to make everything else fade into the background. Natasha picked up the pill bottle, shaking it gently, then set it back down with a soft chuckle.

Without thinking, she lay back down, the note still clutched between her fingers. She held it up, her gaze tracing over your handwriting, memorizing the curves and loops of each letter. It was such a small thing, but it felt monumental, a tangible reminder that you had been here, in her room, in her bed, that you’d thought of Natasha even after leaving.

But as the days passed, you and Natasha slipped effortlessly back into your familiar routine, all filled with work. The compound buzzed with its usual activities, and you moved through your tasks with the same blend of efficiency and warmth that Natasha had come to rely on. Your conversations flowed as seamlessly as they always had, punctuated by laughter, talks of work and her health, and shared moments of quiet understanding.

Yet, for Natasha, everything had shifted subtly, profoundly.

Every glance, every casual touch between the two of you now felt charged with an intensity she couldn’t ignore. The way your eyes lit up when you spoke, the way you brushed against Natasha in passing—it all sent jolts through her, leaving her with a physical ache that was almost unbearable. Natasha found herself hanging on to every word you said, her heart racing whenever you came near, her fingers almost itching to reach out and close the space between the two of you.

When you brushed her hand against Natasha’s, it was no longer just a simple touch; it was a spark that set Natasha’s entire being on fire. The way your laughter filled the room, how you tilted your head just so when you were focused on your work—it was all consuming. Natasha wanted to pull you close, to kiss you with a hunger that had been simmering just beneath the surface, to feel the softness of your lips against hers and lose herself in you. Natasha wanted more than just the stolen moments and the shared smiles; she wanted everything with you. The thought of a future, of waking up to you beside her every morning.

“What’s going on with you?”

Natasha blinked, momentarily disoriented, as Steve’s voice pulled her out her thoughts. They were in the midst of their mission, moving through the dimly lit corridors of an abandoned warehouse. The mission was progressing smoothly, as always, but Natasha’s mind had been elsewhere, lost in a whirl of thoughts and emotions that had nothing to do with the task at hand.

Steve’s brow was furrowed with concern as he looked at her, his sharp eyes catching every nuance of her distraction. It was clear that her usual focus and sharpness were missing, and that was something Steve didn’t overlook, especially in the midst of a high-stakes operation.

Natasha hesitated, her mind racing to regroup, to push aside the tumult of feelings that had been gnawing at her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Just a lot on my mind,” she said, forcing a casual tone that didn’t quite match the tension in her voice. She adjusted her stance, trying to redirect her focus back to the mission. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Steve studied her for a moment, clearly not convinced. “Natasha,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “We’ve been through this before. If something’s bothering you, you need to talk about it. We’re a team.”

The sincerity in his voice made Natasha’s chest tighten. She appreciated Steve’s concern, but the truth was, she even didn’t know how to articulate the whirlwind of emotions she was experiencing.

Natasha sighed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. She knew Steve was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to share what was really troubling her. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, her voice firmer this time. “I’m fine... I’ll get it together.”

Steve gave her a scrutinizing look, clearly still concerned, but he nodded. “Alright. But if you need to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, Steve.”

The mission was successful. As usual.

On a calm Sunday morning, Natasha sat at the counter, methodically biting into her peanut butter sandwich as she half-listened to Steve’s low murmur about the latest Avengers briefing. The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning light that filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the polished surfaces. Steve was nursing a steaming cup of coffee, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newspaper spread out before him.

The soft sound of footsteps nearing drew Natasha’s attention as you walked in, your presence immediately changing the room’s dynamic.

You greeted them with a quick, cheerful “Morning, guys,” before heading straight for the coffee machine, your voice carrying the easy warmth that Natasha had come to crave.

“Hey, (y/n). Just brewed a pot,” Steve said.

You thanked him with a kind smile and moved quickly, grabbing a cup of coffee from the counter and casting a fleeting, soft, lingering smile in Natasha’s direction as you filled her cup. The smile was fleeting but full of unspoken warmth, a subtle connection that spoke volumes in its brevity.

Natasha’s reaction was immediate. She paused mid-bite, the sandwich almost forgotten as she watched you with an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed. Her fingers faltered, the sandwich slipping back onto her plate with a soft thud. She nodded at you, a nervous, shy smile tugging at her lips as if she were trying to hold on to that fleeting moment.

Steve, who had been watching this exchange with an increasingly amused expression, couldn’t help but chuckle softly. The realization hit him with a sudden clarity. Natasha’s distraction, the lingering thoughts that had clouded her focus during the mission—it all made sense now. The way she looked at you, the way her entire demeanor changed in your presence—it was a classic case of being head over heels.

“Well, well,” Steve said, his voice low and teasing as he took another sip of his coffee. “I think I just figured out what’s been on your mind.”

He shot Natasha a knowing grin, his eyes sparkling with understanding. Natasha looked up, caught off guard but with a soft flush creeping up her neck.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, though her tone was already betraying her discomfort.

Steve’s smile widened. “Nothing, just an observation.” He took another sip, enjoying the moment of revelation. “Seems like someone’s made quite the impression.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, trying to mask her embarrassment with a playful scowl. “I suppose I can’t keep anything from you,” she said, shaking her head but unable to suppress the fond smile that tugged at her lips.

“Looks like it,” he said.

Natasha sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as she rested her head on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. “What do I do?” she muttered, her voice muffled by the countertop.

Sam strolled into the kitchen just as she had asked this, his expression a mix of curiosity and mischief. He took in the scene with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Confess immediately,” he said, his tone light but resolute. “Don’t overthink it. Just go for it.”

Natasha looked at him in disbelief, an eyebrow raised as if she were silently asking how he could possibly know about all of this. Steve, who was leaning casually against the counter, gave Sam a sidelong glance.

“Hey, maybe ease into it a bit,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “What about asking her on a date? A nice, romantic dinner—something where you can talk, you know.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, no,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “A dinner date sounds nice and all, but if you’ve got feelings, you might as well just lay it all out there.”

Natasha lifted her head slightly, her gaze shifting between Steve and Sam; her expression caught between exasperation and hope. “So, you both think I should just... tell her?”

Steve nodded, his expression encouraging. “Yeah, but maybe take the chance to make it special. It’s not just about confessing—it’s about showing her how much you care.”

Sam shook his head with a smirk. “Or you could just cut to the chase. No need for all the pomp.”

Natasha sat in the quiet of the kitchen, the hum of the morning routine a distant backdrop as she contemplated the contrasting pieces of advice she had just received. She already knew she had to tell you. The doing is what’s got her in a slump. Steve’s suggestion of a romantic dinner held a particular allure, painting vivid pictures in her mind of you dressing up all pretty just for her, a soft glow of anticipation in her eyes. She imagined the two of you sitting across from each other at a candlelit table, the air filled with the intimate murmur of conversation and the soft clink of glasses. Yet, Sam’s more direct approach was equally compelling. The simplicity of confessing her feelings outright, of stripping away pretense and diving straight into the heart of the matter, had its own raw appeal. The idea of bypassing all the elaborate gestures, cutting straight through to the essence of her emotions, felt refreshingly honest, more her style.

She tried Steve’s idea first. She had it all planned out, chose a restaurant she thought you’d like, take you out for a walk under the moonlight, and then she’d tell you everything.

But her attempts to ask you out on a date seemed to be thwarted by an endless stream of interruptions. Each time she mustered the courage to approach you, the timing was never right. One time, as Natasha approached the med bay with a hopeful resolve, she was met with the sight of your hands deftly tending to a newly injured agent. The room was filled with the hum of medical equipment and the urgent tones of your focused attention, making it impossible to find a moment of privacy.

Another time, Natasha had managed to catch you alone, only for a sudden emergency to arise.

“I’m so sorry, Nat,” you had said.

Natasha shook her head and urged you to go with a pained smile, telling you that she’ll just find you again later. The sound of the alert echoed through the compound, pulling you away with swift urgency as you dashed off to respond to the call. Natasha watched with a sigh, frustration and longing mingling in her chest as you disappeared down the hallway.

Even when she did manage to find you alone, the med bay door would swing open with startling regularity, admitting a new batch of agents or staff members needing your expertise. Each interruption was a jarring reminder of the busy, unpredictable world they inhabited, leaving Natasha grasping at fleeting opportunities that never quite materialized.

With every failed attempt, Natasha’s patience was tested. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, the universe was determined to keep her moments with you brief and fragmented. But, even then, Natasha’s resolve only deepened, determined to find the right time with you.

The next day, Natasha found herself lingering outside the med bay, her shoulder resting against the doorframe as she watched you from afar. You were sitting at your desk, completely absorbed in a thick, worn book. Your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, a stray strand of hair falling across your forehead as you absentmindedly brushed it away. The soft glow of the med bay’s overhead light bathed you in a warm, gentle hue, casting delicate shadows on your face. Natasha stood there, quietly captivated by the sight, her heart swelling with an almost unbearable tenderness.

There was something so achingly beautiful about the way your eyes flicked across the page, your lips occasionally curving into the faintest hint of a smile at whatever she was reading. The world outside the med bay seemed to fade away, and for a moment, Natasha felt like she could stand there forever, simply watching you.

“You can come in, Natasha,” she heard you say, your eyes never leaving the pages of your book.

Natasha blinked, startled by your words. She hadn’t realized she’d been standing there long enough to be noticed. Clearing her throat, she pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the med bay, the familiar scent of antiseptic and coffee mingling in the air. You still hadn’t looked up from your book, your eyes tracing the lines of text with an almost lazy ease, but there was a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“You always seem to know when I’m around,” Natasha said, trying to keep her voice steady as she moved closer to your desk. She felt a strange mix of relief and nervousness—the comfort of being near you and the anxiety of what she wanted to say, what she’d been trying to say for days now.

You finally looked up, your eyes meeting Natasha’s with that familiar warmth that always made her heart skip a beat. “You’re not exactly subtle,” you teased lightly, setting the book down. “And I like it when you drop by.”

Natasha smiled, but it felt more like a grimace, her nerves getting the better of her. She shifted on her feet, hands fidgeting at her sides. “I just... wanted to see how you were doing. You’ve been busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You tilted your head, studying Natasha in that way that made her feel like you could see right through her. “I’m fine, and you’re not interrupting,” you said softly, your smile fading into something more serious.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. This was the opening she needed—the perfect moment to say what she’d been practicing in her head over and over again. But the words seemed stuck, tangled up in her chest. She could only nod, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to summon the courage to speak.

“Natasha…” Your voice was gentle, coaxing, and when Natasha finally looked up, she found you watching her with that same patient expression, as if she already knew what Natasha was struggling to say.

“I—” Natasha started, then stopped. She bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “I… just wanted to see you,” Natasha finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t exactly what she had planned to say, but it was the truth, raw and unfiltered.

Your expression softened even more, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You closed the book; your full attention now on Natasha.

“Well, you’ve found me,” you said, your tone playful but laced with something deeper, something that made Natasha’s pulse quicken. “What’s on your mind?”

“Uh, I’ve been... meaning to ask...” Natasha began, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability that made you pause, your full attention on her.

Your gaze softened as you waited patiently, sensing that whatever Natasha was about to say was important. The air between the two of you felt charged, thick with anticipation, as if this moment could be the beginning of something they both had been skirting around for too long.

But just as Natasha opened her mouth to continue, the sharp ring of her phone cut through the tension like a knife. The sound startled you both, and Natasha’s expression immediately shifted from hesitant to frustrated as she pulled the phone from her pocket. A quick glance at the screen told her all she needed to know: Fury.

Fuck. She sighed, feeling the weight of the moment slip away from her. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to you. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as if delaying the inevitable.

You gave her a small, understanding smile. “You should take it. It’s probably important,” you said softly, though Natasha could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes.

Natasha sighed and nodded, the frustration still gnawing at her as she swiped to answer the call.

“Yeah?” She said into the phone, her tone clipped, already mourning the lost opportunity.

As Fury’s voice filled her ear, Natasha couldn’t help but glance back at you, who had returned to your book but seemed distracted, your eyes not really seeing the words on the page. She wanted to be here with you and wanted to finish what she’d started to say. But duty called, and as much as she resented the timing, Natasha knew there was no escaping it. Still, as she listened to Fury’s instructions, her mind lingered on the words she hadn’t yet spoken.

Natasha left the med bay with a heavy heart, her footsteps echoing down the sterile, polished floors of the compound as she moved with practiced efficiency. The cool air felt harsh against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that had lingered in your presence just moments before. She didn’t want to leave, not when she had been so close to finally asking you out, but Fury’s voice in her ear had been all business, pulling her back into the world of missions and danger. The life she had known so well before you had started to change everything. Now, as she moved toward the hangar, readying herself for a quick mission, Natasha couldn’t shake the image of you sitting at your desk, so patient, so understanding, yet so distant now as the demands of her duty called her away from you once again. The familiar rush of adrenaline from the impending mission did little to dull the ache of leaving you behind, and as Natasha climbed into the Quinjet, she realized that no matter how many missions she completed, this—the moments with you—was the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose.

Natasha arrived back at the compound two nights later.

It was the kind of hour where everything felt suspended in a heavy, muffled silence. The Quinjet landed with a low hum, its lights cutting through the darkness, but Natasha was too tired to appreciate the quietness of her arrival. Her body ached with every movement, bruises blooming across her skin in angry shades of purple and blue. Her nose was still bleeding, a thin trickle of crimson slipping down her lip that she wiped away with the back of her hand. And then there was the stabbing pain in her side—a broken rib, she was sure of it. Exhausted, she stumbled down the ramp, each step sending a sharp jolt of pain through her chest. When she finally reached the dimly lit corridor, she paused, leaning against the cool metal wall for support.

She tapped into her comm, her voice rough and weary as she asked, “FRIDAY, is anyone in the med bay right now?”

The calm voice filled the space around her, gentle but clear. “Doctor (L/n) is in, Agent Romanoff. Would like me to alert her?”

A wave of relief washed over her, mingled with a touch of dread. You. Of course, you’d still be there.

“N-No, I’ll just… I’m heading there right now.”

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, pushing past the pain as she straightened up. She had barely been able to ask you out before she left, and now she was coming back bruised and broken, needing you in a different way. With a heavy sigh, Natasha started down the hallway. She trudged through the corridors of the compound, her footsteps uneven. The sterile white walls of the hallway seemed to blur as she moved, the intensity of her injuries casting a dull haze over her vision. Her breath came in shallow, labored gasps, each inhale sharp and punctuated by the searing pain in her ribcage. The normally comforting hum of the compound’s ventilation system felt intrusive.

As she approached the med bay, the dim light spilling from under the door painted a faint golden streak across the floor, guiding her weary steps. Natasha’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the button on the wall, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of her flushed skin. The door opens automatically, and the slide is loud in the quiet space. The med bay was bathed in a soft, muted glow, its organized chaos of medical supplies and equipment casting long, flickering shadows. Her eyes scanned the room, searching through until they settled on the figure she had hoped to find. You stood at a workbench, your focus intent on preparing some medical supplies. The sight of you, so absorbed in your work, made Natasha’s heart ache. The exhaustion and pain seemed to fade a little in your presence even as Natasha forced herself to step inside.

You continued your meticulous arrangement of medical supplies, your back turned to the door as you muttered, “If you’re here for a minor issue, just fill out the form and I’ll get to you when I can.”

Your voice carried the practiced tone of someone who had dealt with countless interruptions, your focus unwavering.

Natasha let out a pained scoff, the sound escaping more sharply than she intended. The noise drew your attention, and you froze mid-motion, your hand hovering over a box of bandages. You turned slowly, your eyes widening as you took in Natasha’s battered appearance. The sight of Natasha, bruised and bloodied, caused your heart to skip a beat, her professional mask slipping away to reveal a raw edge of concern.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, as you took an instant step forward, your gaze fixed on the blood trickling from Natasha’s nose and the pained grimace on her face. “What happened?”

The words came out in a rush, your earlier dismissal forgotten as you rushed to Natasha’s side, your hands already reaching out to help, your eyes filled with a mixture of shock and worry.

Your hands moved with practiced urgency as you guided Natasha to one of the beds, the action firm but gentle. You eased Natasha down onto the cushioned surface, your eyes darting across the extent of Natasha’s injuries with a rapid, assessing glance. Your breath hitched slightly as you took in the sight of Natasha’s battered body—the bruises spreading across her skin, the telltale signs of pain in her face, and the blood that marred her otherwise stoic appearance.

With a quick, deft motion, you reached for a nearby first aid kit, your movements efficient despite the visible tremor in your hands. You worked with a calm resolve, your mind focusing solely on the task at hand.

“Okay, let me take a look,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with concern.

Your fingers were careful as they moved to inspect Natasha’s broken rib, pressing gently to assess the injury while avoiding exacerbating the pain. Your gaze remained focused on Natasha, your eyes reflecting a deep well of worry and care.

You reached up slowly, cradling her face with your gentle hands, a move that made Natasha close her eyes in relief, feeling your palm rest softly against her face. As you cleaned the blood from her face and applied a fresh bandage, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Natasha’s eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort.

Later, as the night wore on, you kept working and carefully prepared an elastic bandage, your fingers moving with practiced precision. You already administered the painkillers, watching as Natasha swallowed them down with a grimace, and handed her anti-inflammatory pills with a soft reminder to take them regularly. Now, as Natasha sat upright on the edge of the medical bed, her shirt discarded, you gently guided her to lift her arms.

The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of the bandage as you began wrapping it around Natasha's torso. You always loved Natasha’s body, beautiful and athletically toned, but seeing her buried up like this was a sight you weren’t too fond of.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, the pressure firm but not too tight, offering support without constricting Natasha's breathing. Each pass of the bandage was done with utmost care, your fingertips brushing lightly against Natasha’s skin. Your eyes flickered between your work and Natasha’s face, making sure you weren’t causing any unnecessary discomfort. The bandage gradually wound around Natasha’s ribcage, securing the fractured bone in place, and you took your time, ensuring it was both comfortable and effective. As you finished, your hands lingered for a moment, her touch lingering in a quiet, intimate gesture of care before she finally stepped back, her eyes meeting Natasha’s in a silent exchange of concern and unspoken words.

“You should lay down,” you said sternly, and she obeyed with your help.

You stepped back from Natasha, your eyes scanning over the finished bandage job with concern, then made your way to the cabinets behind you.

As you turned and walked away, Natasha couldn’t help but let her gaze linger, her eyes tracing the subtle sway of your hips as you walked. Despite the dull ache in her ribs and the sting of her cuts, Natasha found herself distracted by the sight of you, the way your hair fell prettily around your face, and the confident yet graceful way you carried herself. It was ridiculous, really—how someone could look so effortlessly beautiful at this time of night. But that was you, distracting and disarming, making it nearly impossible for Natasha to focus on anything else. You were always beautiful. She would never stop thinking it. The pain in her body dulled just by watching you, and Natasha couldn’t suppress a wry smile at the thought.

A part of her, the part she tried to keep buried beneath layers of stoicism and professionalism, kind of liked being in this position. Being injured wasn’t ideal, of course, but if it meant that you were the one taking care of her—if it meant those gentle hands tending to her wounds, those soft eyes watching her with concern—well, it wasn’t all that bad. Natasha leaned back on the medical bed, trying not to wince as she adjusted herself, her mind already anticipating the feeling of your cool hands against her skin again.

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, your mind racing, already mentally cataloging what she needed—an ice pack for Natasha’s ribs and creams and ointments to treat the cuts on her and the bruises on her body. You moved quickly, your hands working automatically as you gathered the items—a tube of antibiotic ointment, a small jar of healing cream, and the ice pack she swiftly prepared, cracking it to activate the cold. You worked quickly and efficiently, but the image of Natasha’s bruised and bloodied face lingered in your thoughts, pushing you to hurry back. With everything in hand, you returned to the bed.

Swiftly, you pulled a chair over, your movements deliberate as you positioned yourself close to Natasha, almost too close, yet Natasha found herself craving the proximity. Your expression was a mix of concern and something else—something sharper, like a restrained anger simmering just beneath the surface. You dipped your fingers into the ointment, your touch cool and soothing as you began to apply it gently to the cuts on Natasha’s face. Your gaze never left Natasha’s, your eyes searching for answers even before you spoke.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Your voice was low and stern, the tone almost scolding.

It carried an edge that made Natasha’s chest tighten, but not with fear—with something warmer, something that made her want to smile despite the situation. And she did, her lips curving upward, unable to hide her amusement at how your concern manifested in this sharp, almost angry way. She knew it wasn’t anger, not really. It was worry and frustration that you couldn’t have prevented this, that Natasha had come back to you bruised and broken.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Natasha replied softly, her voice tinged with that smile she couldn’t quite suppress.

But she didn’t give you the full story just yet, savoring this moment where your hands moved so carefully over her skin, applying the ointment with such focused tenderness. Natasha liked this—liked seeing you flustered, your emotions so close to the surface. It made her feel important, seen.

Your fingers paused for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied Natasha’s face. You didn’t seem convinced by the lightness in Natasha’s tone, but you didn’t push—at least, not yet. Instead, you took a deep breath and resumed your work, the soft pad of your thumb smoothing ointment over a particularly nasty cut on Natasha’s cheek. Natasha winced slightly. She could sense the underlying tension in you—the way your jaw clenched ever so slightly, the way you focused a little too intently on the task at hand.

“You know that’s not what I asked,” you said quietly, your voice still holding that stern edge, though there was a softness there too, a plea for honesty.

You didn’t look up as you spoke, your attention fixed on her injuries, but Natasha could feel the weight of your words. It wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper, a fear that gnawed at you every time Natasha walked out of the compound on a mission. And now, seeing Natasha like this, bruised and battered, only made that fear surface all the more.

The redhead sighed, her smile fading as she let her gaze drift away from your face, staring at some indeterminate spot on the wall.

“It was a solo recon mission,” she finally said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Things went south, and I had to engage. Took a few hits, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Your hands stilled again, this time longer, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating from you, though you still kept your touch gentle. You finally looked up, your eyes locking with her green ones.

“You always say that,” you muttered, your voice stern and laced with exasperation. “You always downplay it, like it’s nothing. But look at you.”

Natasha met your gaze, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. She wanted to reassure you, to say something that would ease that worry etched into your face, but the words caught in her throat. So instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your wrist.

“I’m okay, milaya,” Natasha said softly, and this time, the smile that curled her lips was tender and genuine. “I promise.”

You didn’t reply right away, but you didn’t pull away either. Your fingers lingered on Natasha’s skin, and for a moment, you simply stayed like that, the air between you thick with tension. Finally, you exhaled a soft, resigned sigh as you resumed your work, the sternness in your expression giving way to something more vulnerable, more caring.

“Just... try to be careful. It’s not like you to be making mistakes,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, and Natasha felt her heart clench at the raw emotion behind the words. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded eagerly, her words catching in her throat.

You shook your head, a soft, almost exasperated sigh escaping your lips as you reached out, gently cupping Natasha’s chin to turn her face towards you. She allowed it, letting you guide her, the warmth of your hand against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. You leaned in closer, your brow furrowing as you examined the other side of Natasha’s face, your eyes darkening when you saw the bigger bruise that had bloomed there.

“Natasha...” you whispered, your voice laced with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

Your touch was featherlight as you carefully dabbed ointment over the bruise, your movements slow and deliberate, as if you were afraid of causing more pain.

But Natasha barely felt the sting. No, her mind was somewhere else entirely.

You were so close now, closer than you had been all night, and all Natasha could think about was how your breath ghosted over her skin, how your lips hovered just inches away. The scent of your shampoo filled her senses, clean and familiar, and Natasha’s gaze drifted to those lips—soft, plump, the same lips she remembered so vividly from that night, the lips that had been moaning her name all night. Her heart thudded in her chest, drowning out everything else. The pain, the bruises, the mission—they all faded into the background. All that remained was the memory of those lips, how they’d felt against hers, the way they’d made her forget everything but you.

Natasha swallowed hard, fighting to stay present, but it was useless. Her green eyes lingered on your mouth, tracing the curve of your lips and the way they moved as you murmured soft reassurances. Every part of Natasha ached to close the distance, to taste those lips again, to lose herself in that same rush that had consumed her that night. It was maddening how badly she wanted it—how badly she wanted you.

And for a moment, just a fleeting second, Natasha wondered if you felt it too—if you could feel the tension crackling in the air between you, the way Natasha’s pulse quickened under your touch. But she couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t think of anything but how close you were and how desperately she wanted to close that gap.

Your hand lingered for a moment longer, your fingers brushing over Natasha’s skin gently. And you were just about to pull away, to turn your attention back to the supplies on the tray beside you, when she felt it—a sudden rush deep in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. The words she’d been holding back for so long, the ones that had burned at the tip of her tongue for what felt like forever, finally pushed their way out, unbidden and unstoppable.

“I love you.”

It was barely a whisper, but in the quiet of the med bay, it sounded deafening. Natasha hadn’t meant to say it, not like this, not when she was bruised and battered, vulnerable in a way she hated to be. But the moment had slipped through her fingers, and now the words were out there, hanging in the air between you.

You froze, your fingers still resting against Natasha’s face, your eyes widening slightly as the words registered. For a split second, there was nothing but silence, a silence so thick and heavy that Natasha almost couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t planned this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that she might lose control, that she might let her guard down so completely. But it’s so hard not to when she was with you.

But then your eyes softened, your expression shifting from shock to something Natasha couldn’t quite read—something gentle, something that made Natasha’s heart pound even harder. Your hand moved again, this time not to turn away but to cradle Natasha’s face more firmly, your thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

“Natasha…” You whispered, your voice barely audible, and there was a tenderness in your tone that made Natasha’s breath hitch. Your eyes searched hers, as if trying to find the truth behind the words, to make sure you hadn’t imagined them.

But Natasha couldn’t take them back now. She didn’t want to. The weight of them had already lifted, and even though her heart was racing, even though her chest ached with the fear of what might come next, what you might say, she didn’t regret it. All she could do was hold your gaze, waiting, hoping that somehow this wouldn’t be the moment everything shattered.

The redhead leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she let the warmth of your palm soothe the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. The confession had slipped out too quickly, too easily, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t stop herself. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the feelings she’d kept buried for so long were rushing out.

“I’ve always loved you,” Natasha murmured again, her voice steadier this time, though still soft, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to her. She opened her eyes again, finding your gentle gaze still locked on hers, wide and searching. Natasha’s heart pounded as she watched the emotions flicker across your face—surprise, confusion, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

You didn’t pull away. If anything, your grip on Natasha’s face tightened, your thumb gently brushing against the curve of her cheek. The silence that followed wasn’t as suffocating as before, but it still held weight, heavy with what Natasha had just said. She could see you processing it, trying to make sense of the sudden shift of the words that had come so unexpectedly. But Natasha didn’t waver. She let herself sink into the moment, letting herself be held by your gaze and by the feel of your hand on her skin. She’d always known that her feelings for you ran deep—deeper than she’d ever allowed herself to admit.

“(Y/n)…” Natasha murmured, her voice soft but more certain. She tilted her head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, her lips lingering there for a moment as you let her words sink in. She wasn’t asking for anything, not really. She just needed you to know. To understand.

Your eyes flickered with uncertainty, a shadow of doubt crossing your expression. It wasn’t like Natasha to confess anything so personal, so vulnerable, especially when it came to her feelings. It left you reeling. You searched Natasha’s face, looking for any hint of insincerity, any sign that this might be some sort of joke. But all you found was the steady, unwavering gaze of someone who had just bared their soul.

“You’re not joking?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with disbelief. There was a softness in your tone, a hint of hope that you almost didn’t want to acknowledge.

Natasha’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. She shook her head, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Why would I be joking?” she replied, her voice firm, carrying a quiet confidence that left no room for doubt.

There was no teasing in her expression, no hint of the usual playfulness that often accompanied her words.

This was different. This was real.

“You’ve just... never said anything... Before, I mean,” you tell her, drawing your hand back slightly only for Natasha to hold your wrist still. You took a deep breath. “You’ve always said that you don’t like getting too attached to anyone.”

Natasha’s gaze softened as your words hung in the air. It was true—she had always been the one to keep her distance, to draw a line between herself and everyone else. Attachment was dangerous. It made you vulnerable; it made you weak. And in her line of work, weakness could get you killed. She’d lived by that rule for so long that it had become second nature, a part of who she was.

But looking at you now, with the worry and confusion etched across your beautiful face, Natasha felt all of that unraveling. The walls she’d built so carefully over the years crumbled piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the raw, undeniable truth of what she felt.

“I know,” Natasha said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that matched the heaviness in her chest. She hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain something she’d never really let herself admit. “I said that because I thought it would make me lose focus. But with you…”

She trailed off, her eyes searching yours, hoping that somehow you could understand what she was struggling to say. “With you, it’s different. It always has been. I didn’t want to admit it, maybe because I was scared… scared of what it would mean. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this... like I don’t want this.”

“I’ve actually been trying to ask you out on a date these past couple weeks.” Natasha took a breath, her hand moving to cover yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Had it all planned out... But I never found the right time to ask you.”

You smiled softly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied, shaking her head.

Your smile grew, the tension in your shoulders easing as you absorbed Natasha’s confession.

Her hand remained on yours, her thumb still brushing lightly against your skin. “But if, for whatever reason, you don’t want to or... don’t feel the same way... that’d be okay. It’ll take me a while to get over, but I don’t want to force you.”

Your heart ached at the thought of Natasha being hurt and her struggling through rejection. The sincerity in Natasha’s voice, the way she laid her feelings bare with such honesty, made your decision clear. You reached out and shook your head, your thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Natasha,” you said softly, your eyes meeting hers.

The words seemed to hang in the air, a delicate promise of something new, something hopeful. Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she processed your words.

“And... I’d really love to go on that date with you.”

Natasha’s heart leaped at your response, relief and joy flooding through her. The uncertainty that had clouded her mind for weeks, the fear of rejection, seemed to dissipate in an instant. Your smile, soft and warm, was like a beacon of hope that cut through the fog of Natasha’s doubts. The way your eyes sparkled with affection made Natasha’s chest tighten with a happiness she hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel before.

“Yeah?” Natasha’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if she couldn’t quite believe the words that fell from your mouth. She imagined every negative scenario and had been bracing herself for disappointment, for the possibility that her feelings might not be reciprocated, and to hear your affirmation was everything to her.

Your smile grew even wider, your eyes meeting her green ones with a tenderness that made Natasha’s breath catch.

“Yeah,” you said softly, her voice steady and sincere.

Natasha’s thumb gently caressed your hand, her gaze lingering on your face. “I’m really glad to hear that,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “Just... let me know when you’re free, and we’ll make it happen.”

You give her a look. “How about when you’re fully healed, hm?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the warmth in her eyes as she met your playful gaze.

“Deal,” she said with a grin, her voice carrying a note of playful defiance. She shifted slightly on the bed, trying to ease her discomfort, but her smile remained. “I guess, to make sure I heal properly, I’d have to let you take care of me a little longer. Not that I’m complaining about that.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not,” she said, her tone teasing yet affectionate.

Natasha’s heart swelled at your words, the playfulness in your voice making her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t expected.

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her, “Now, let me finish. You’re distracting me.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and she sighed, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Okay, baby. I’ll be good,” she replied, her voice low and tender, the endearment slipping out naturally, almost as if it were second nature.

Your cheeks flushed deeper, your eyes flickering up to meet Natasha’s for a moment before you quickly looked away, trying to maintain her professional composure. Both the embarrassment and focus in your expression were endearing, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel like she was over the moon.

As you continued your work, gently dabbing the last of the ointments and soothing creams on her, Natasha stayed quiet, simply enjoying the sight of you and the way you moved with purpose and care. There was something comforting about being cared for by someone she loved, and in these moments, Natasha felt grateful and at peace.

When you finished, you pulled away to clean your hands as Natasha laid her head back against the adjustable bed, the head of it raised up comfortably for her to lean against. She let out a quiet breath as her head sank into the pillow. The tension that had coiled through her muscles slowly unwound, leaving her feeling weightless, almost serene. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft smile played on her lips. The cool air of the med bay, the distant hum of machines, all faded into the background as she focused on the lingering warmth of your touch, the way your fingers had brushed against Natasha's skin so gently.

The pain that had been gnawing at her ribs was a dull, distant ache now, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. She let herself sink deeper into that feeling, savoring it, her thoughts blissfully quiet for once.

She was content—more content than she could remember being in a long time. This was enough—your presence, the gentle care you had shown, the soft, lingering scent of antiseptic, and something sweeter, something uniquely you. Natasha's smile deepened, and she sighed softly, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection. She could stay here forever, knowing you were right next to her.

And then, just as Natasha felt herself drifting on the edge of sleep, she heard your voice—soft, tentative, pulling her back from the brink.

“Natasha.”

“Hm?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t think I’ve said it yet,” she heard you say, your voice shy but sure. “But, I love you, too.”

Natasha's eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, her heart skipping a beat as she registered the words. She lifted her head, her gaze locking onto your face, which was now tinged with a soft blush. For a moment, Natasha just stared at you, caught off guard by the sudden rush of warmth spreading through her chest as she looked at you. You stood there, absentmindedly wiping your hands clean. But your usual composed demeanor was now softened, your shyness making you seem even more beautiful in Natasha’s eyes. The way you flushed, the way your lips curled into that shy smile—it all felt like a dream.

Without thinking, driven purely by instinct, Natasha tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp protest from her broken rib. Her only focus was you—your face, your lips—drawing nearer, as if she were being pulled by an invisible force. She needed to close the distance; she needed to feel those soft lips of yours against hers.

But before she could move any closer, your hand was there—firm yet gentle—against her chest, guiding her back down with a tender but insistent pressure.

“Whoa, hey,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern as you kept Natasha in place, your touch more soothing than restraining. “Don’t move. You need to minimize all movement.”

Natasha let out a frustrated exhale, her pout unmistakable as she stared up at you, caught between longing and the dull ache in her side.

“You seriously expect me not to kiss you after you just told me you love me?” She murmured, her voice tinged with a playful defiance, though her body reluctantly surrendered to your care.

“Yes, I do.”

But your lips curled into a knowing smile as you saw the frustration in Natasha’s eyes. With a gentle, playful smile, you leaned down, your lips barely brushing Natasha’s in a tender kiss. The contact was fleeting, but it held a promise of more. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips instinctively moving toward yours in a desperate attempt to deepen the kiss. She sighed against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your lips finally pressing against hers. She felt a surge of warmth as she reached for you, her hand finding its way to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, trying to pull you closer.

But your hand remained steady on Natasha’s chest, a gentle reminder to keep still. You pulled back just enough to keep the kiss from deepening, her breath mingling with Natasha’s as you looked down with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said softly, her tone both affectionate and teasing. “I do believe I told you to rest.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a playful pout, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gazed up at you, her thumb caressing the skin behind your ear as her hand rested against the side of your neck.

“You know,” Natasha said, her voice a sultry whisper, “I’m starting to think you enjoy having this kind of power over me.”

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you gave her a sexy glance. “Maybe,” she admitted, her smile widening.

Natasha grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she relaxed back against the pillow. “Well, if this is what it takes to get more of those kisses,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “then I might just have to let you boss me around a bit longer.”

Your cheeks flushed with a soft pink, your eyes shining amusement. You leaned down again, giving Natasha one last gentle peck before pulling back, your hand still resting lightly on Natasha’s chest. You pulled back slightly, your expression softening as you met her eyes.

“Rest,” you said sternly, though your voice held a trace of affection. The authority in your tone was undeniable, but it was softened by the warmth of her gaze.

Natasha’s smile lingered, a hint of playful defiance still dancing in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied softly, her voice carrying a teasing edge despite her agreement.

She sank back into the bed, the pain in her ribs momentarily forgotten as she focused the thought of your presence, your gentle hands, and your soft, delicious lips. As Natasha lay back against the pillow, her body finally succumbing to the soothing embrace of rest, contentment washing over her. The pain in her ribs seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the warmth of your presence.

Later, opening her eyes for a moment, she could see you sitting beside her, comfortably nestled into that same chair, now with a book in your hand. The sight of you getting ready to be absorbed in your reading, keeping Natasha company as she rested, filled her peace.

She reached out to you with a quiet, unspoken need, finding your hand resting gently on the bed. Noticing the gesture, you let Natasha’s fingers settle softly into your own, allowing your hands to rest together against the cool sheets. With a soft smile, you held the book in your other hand, the pages casually open, resting comfortably on your lap. As Natasha’s fingers intertwined with yours, your touch remained light and soothing, squeezing softly as you held her hand. As her eyelids grew heavy and the soothing pull of sleep began to claim her, she relished the comfort of your hand in hers. The warmth of your fingers, soft and steady, felt perfect in hers. The subtle pressure of your grip was calming, intimate, and gentle, wrapping Natasha in a warmth she’d like to keep forever. Knowing you were there eased Natasha into that peacefulness she aimed to never lose.

And with a soft sigh, Natasha closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic sound of your gentle breathing lull her into a serene sleep. Her thoughts drifted, focused on dreaming of you, excited for what the future had in store for the two of you. The gentle light of the bedside lamp cast a warm glow—with Natasha’s face peaceful in sleep, and you occasionally glanced down at your joined hands before returning to your book.

note: i think i may have gotten carried away womp womp (also there’s no masterlist yet for natasha since this is my first one)

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, age gap relationship (W=35, R=20) W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

[inkblot-inc]

After Jaws and Natasha get together, they totally flirt when the spar. Because it’s fun and they like to see if they can actually distract each other enough to get the upper hand. It tends to work better for Nat than Jaws but Jaws will never complain about ending up beneath Natasha. Even on the training mat.

I touched on this a bit here

Jaws is always happy to see Natasha on top of them, no complaints there.

For sure Nat distracts Jaws more, the distracting/flirty bit is more in her wheelhouse, so it's kind of a given. BUT- let's not overlook that there are times when Jaws has gotten the drop on Nat too 😌

Jaws is smirking down at Natasha, their hands holding her wrist to the mat. "You gotta be on your back sometimes Natty, take a load off."

Natasha merely raises a brow, "Enjoy it while you can, Tiger."

Jaws' head tilts to the side a bit, "I'll be enjoyin' it later too, maybe you'll even refresh my memory what it looks like to see you this way."

"I certainly will,-"

Steve stops hitting his punching bag, "Right here? IT'S NINE IN THE MORNING YOU TWO!"