#natasha romanoff imagines

[romanovthinkver]

i miss natasha so much. it’s actually crazy how she can fill up my heart with happiness every time i look into her green eyes or see her red hairs. i fall in love with her every time i read about her, keeping the memories alive, in every role she has in that story. for me they are glimpses of natasha’s lives across the multiverse where, despite her dark past, she’s finally happy and is loved.

still i miss her so much till my heart screams begging to have her laying beside me while i get lost in her skin scent and strong arms. i want her for me only for a day, i want to hold her hand, feel her soft lips, hear her laugh, her raspy voice, everything. only for a day.

i miss natasha, i miss her russian wods, her toughness of a powerful woman, i miss everything about her. i wish she could be mine for a split of time and then give her to the universe again. i want to slow dance with her, lay my head on her shoulders and share with her soft pecks watching at the end of the day fading away in my arms.

[scarletts-scribbles]

Sleeping Beauty

⁀➷ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Hey! I am so sorry this took so long! Things got busy and life was in the way so enjoy an almost 4k long saga of pure Nat fluff as a humble apology <3 (excuse editing mistakes, its too late :,)

⁀➷ Summary: The 5 times Natasha Romanoff falls asleep where she shouldn't and the 1 time she does.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Falling asleep was usually done in a bed. Preferably a comfy bed with a large spread of blankets to nestle into. That was your idea of a good place to sleep at least. However, as you’d come to learn, Natasha wasn’t exactly picky on where she chose to sleep.

The first time it had happened, the two of you were on a long train journey across Europe. You had been tasked with a mission in Prague, and Natasha insisted on accompanying you – which of course, you didn’t object to. Despite the urgency of the mission, the train ride had offered a rare moment of respite from the chaos of your usual lives.

You were only a couple hours or so into the half-day long journey when Natasha had seemingly lost interest in the book she’d been reading over, shifting in her seat as she folded the corner of her page and set the book on the small accompanying table. The train the two of you were riding was fairly modern, which made a pleasant change for once, so the luxury having a table with your seats was definitely something she was going to make use of.

You glanced over down at her, observing her subtle movements. She caught your gaze and offered a small, mysterious smile before leaning back in her seat. She sat there for a moment before you heard her shift again, this time you felt Nat’s head come to rest against your shoulder, her whole body leaning into your direction as she cosied up to you.

“You quite comfy there?” You teased gently, earning herself a small laugh as the redhead hid a smile against your shoulder.

"Very comfy," She replied, her voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You make a good pillow."

The corners of your lips rose into an amused grin, “Is that so?” You rolled your eyes playfully as your hand came to settle on the back of her head, fingers running softly through her gorgeous red curls.

As the rhythmic clattering of the train wheels continued, Natasha's breathing gradually slowed, and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against your side. The next time you’d looked down at her, her eyes had fluttered closed. Not in the way that someone rests their eyes but in way that someone closed their eyes after they’d given into the lull of sleep.

My, my, Natasha Romanoff. How you weren’t going to forget this.

You stole glances at her every now and then, admiring the serene expression on her face as she surrendered to sleep. It was a side of Nat that few were privileged to see – she was vulnerable, peaceful, and utterly captivating. Her usually alert demeanour softened in slumber, her features smooth and unguarded. Usually, this type of vulnerability was reserved for spaces where she couldn’t be witnessed but here, she was, curled up on your shoulder, sound asleep for the world to see.

You didn’t dare to disturb her, afraid that any sudden movement might wake her up. Instead, you shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position, careful not to jostle your sleeping girlfriend too much.

But as time passed, you found yourself growing accustomed to the weight of her head against your shoulder, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. It was a sensation you hadn't expected to enjoy as much as you did, feeling oddly content in this shared moment.

･ﾟ:

Now that was the thing about Natasha, she never failed to surprise you. Natasha Romanoff, the dangerous Black Widow herself. You could’ve never imagined she could possibly be so soft like this. It was from that moment onwards that you’d started to take a more thorough note of her sleeping habits.

The next memorable time had been only a few short weeks later. The pair of you had returned home from your mission and after a day or two settling back in, you both had to do the one thing every Avenger dreaded.

Mission reports.

They were just so boring! Of course, you understood why they were necessary for health and safety and such, but those reasons never seemed to be enough encouragement to sit from the hours of typing up, signing and filing documents. But it had to be done.

At least this time you had Natasha with you. The pair of you always did yours together anyway so being on joint missions just simplified the task. It wasn’t hard by any means, just very, very tedious.

You let out an exaggerated sigh as you stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of you, scattered across the table. Natasha, ever the professional, sat next to you, her expression stoic as she typed away on her laptop. The dim lighting in the room only added to the monotony of the task at hand.

"Nat, how do you manage to make something as bland as just typing sound so deadly?" You quipped, earning a small smirk from her, “You type with such assertion. It’s honestly impressive.”

She glanced at you over the rim of her reading glasses (the ones which you’d picked out for her even though she had insisted she hadn’t needed them) her green eyes locking onto yours. "Practice, darling. Lots and lots of practice."

As you both continue typing away, the monotony of the task begins to take its toll. After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finally pushed her laptop away and stretched, her muscles groaning in protest. "I think we've earned a break, don’t you?" She suggested, looking at the clock on the wall. "Why don't you go grab us some food? I'll stay here and finish up the last bit."

Relieved to escape the paperwork for a while, you agreed eagerly. "Food sounds good love. What are you in the mood for?"

She thought for a moment before replying, "Surprise me. Just nothing too greasy, please."

You nodded, standing up and stretching your own tired limbs. "Got it. Mind if I go take a short walk first, I could really use some fresh air, be back in a bit?"

“Yeah of course sweetheart,” Nat smiled and waved you off, “Take your time darling, we’re in no rush.”

You stretched out your arms as you stood up, shaking out the dull aches that had formed before moving round to Nat’s side of the table to plant a sneaky kiss to her cheek, “I won't be too long, maybe half an hour at the longest.”

Your kiss left her warm inside, and you shot her a small wave as you headed out the room. You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you’d started walking around the compound. The heating had been set so it would be comfortably warm for the two of you and the sudden chill of the outside air had you snapping awake. Going for a quick walk didn’t take long, all you really wanted to do was move around a little so after 15 minutes or so, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and made a pickup order at a local takeout place.

You’d decided pasta was a safe bet for dinner. Plus, you’d added a fruit smoothie for Natasha too. It didn’t take long to collect your food; it was only a short walk away and they’d actually made it fairly fast. In total you’d taken around 25 minutes or so, not too far from your estimate and you hummed to yourself casually as you made your way back the meeting room where you and Natasha had set up in.

As you approached the meeting room, you had to balance the bags of food in your arms, you pushed the door open gently, trying not to disturb Natasha in case she was still working. However, what you saw instead made your heart melt.

There she was, slouched over slightly in her chair, her head resting on folded arms with her curly red hair falling messily onto the desk. The dim reflection of light from her open laptop cast a gentle glow on her peaceful face, accentuating the tired lines that usually went unnoticed.

The sight of your girlfriend snoozing was adorable. You could never quite understand how just small redhead could be so cute. Gently, you reached out to brush a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face, helpless to stop your lips from forming into a soft smile.

The bags of takeout were momentarily forgotten as you carefully set them down on the nearest surface. Sitting down you turn her laptop to face you and quietly get on with completing what was left of her report. The weight of the day's responsibilities seemed to fade away as you typed, your prior displeasure being replaced by a quiet contentment in simply being with her.

It didn't take long to complete and after finishing up the report, you closed her laptop gently and put it away before you gathered the takeout bags and set them on the table, arranging the food neatly – it was still warm luckily.

With a tender smile, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Natasha's forehead, eliciting a soft murmur from her. It warmed your heart to see her so at ease, even amid her exhaustion.

Settling back into your chair, you allowed yourself a moment to simply watch her slowly come round from sleep and as Nat stirred awake, blinking sleepily, you couldn't help but chuckle softly at her drowsy expression. "Hey there, sleepyhead," you whispered affectionately, reaching for her hand. "Dinner's ready whenever you are."

･ﾟ:

Some people like to say that twice is coincidence but three’s a pattern. And this was certainly a pattern if you’d ever seen one. But you never expected it to happen twice in the same day. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing or anything, if anything you found it adorable that she trusted you enough to be vulnerable and open around.

You loved that she was so comfortable around you. And that comfortability really came to show a few months later when the pair of you had headed down to the gym to train together. The gym had become your shared haven, a place where the two of you could escape the stresses of daily life and focus on the physical and mental benefits of training.

On this particular day, the gym was buzzing with activity. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the occasional thud of medicine balls hitting the floor filled the air, Clint and Thor could also be heard grunting and throwing playful insults as they sparred together. Natasha and you decided to take residency in your usual corner.

As you both warmed up, you couldn't help but notice that Nat seemed a bit more fatigued than usual. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the subtle signs of a restless night, and the weariness that clung to her movements. Now that you thought about it, you faintly remembered being woken up by her tossing and turning and you began to wonder if she had even managed to get any sleep at all. You couldn't help but worry about pushing herself too hard.

"Come on, Natasha," you said, concern lacing your voice. "We can take it easy today. It's okay to rest. We don't have to push ourselves so hard every time."

But Nat only flashed you a tired smile, appreciating your concern. "I know, but I need this today. It's my way of clearing my mind and getting a bit of release.”

You nodded but as the session progressed, you made sure to keep a watchful eye over her, just to make sure she wasn't overexerting herself – you knew exactly just how she could get carried away. Yet despise her obvious fatigue, the two of you moved seamlessly through various sets of weights, pushing each other to improve.

Eventually, it was obvious you both needed a short break. Natasha stretched, taking deep breaths to regain some energy. You suggested finding a quiet spot to rest for a few minutes, and she agreed. You both settled down, and Nat leaned against the wall, closing her eyes briefly. After a few minutes the fatigue seemed to catch up with her all at once. She let out a soft sigh, and without intending to she let her head drop and gave into the exhaustion that had been lingering since the night before.

You observed as Natasha's breathing steadied, her features relaxing as she drifted into an unexpected slumber. A small smile played on your lips as you realised just how tired she must have been to actually fall asleep amongst the general clatter of background noise.

“You with me Widow?” You cooed in a low voice, hand coming to move aside a strand of sweat soaked hair from her face, biting back a smile as when she slowly woke back up, mumbling something incoherant to herself before looking up at you through sleepy eyes, “Awh look at you nodding off like that, come on baby, that’s enough for one day.”

You gently helped Natasha to her feet, supporting her as she rubbed her eyes and stretched. She blinked groggily, her eyes meeting yours. A faint grin tugged at the corners of her lips, appreciating the care in your voice.

“You awake enough to go get something to eat or do you wanna go get cosy on the sofa for a bit?”

“Can we watch a movie or something?” Natasha murmured softly, her hand finding your own and intwining her fingers in your own.

Of course you agreed. Nothing sounded better than to cosy up and snuggle whilst you watched a film together. It was especially nice considering how it’d give Nat a chance to unwind a little, finally letting her actually rest. Not just saying shes resting then going about her day as usual like she’d normally do.

You settled onto the sofa, Natasha snuggling close, her head finding a comfortable spot in your lap. Gently, you began to massage her scalp, feeling the tension slowly dissipate under your touch. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as you scrolled through the movie options, eventually settling on Lion King, knowing it was one of her favourites.

The movie began to play in the background, but your all attention was on the peaceful expression settling across Nat's face.

“Oh my sleepy baby girl, again?” You whispered knowingly, recognising the way that her blinking began to slow, taking longer and longer for her to reopen her eyes, “Natty sweetheart, if you’re this tired do you not want to go up to bed? It’d be a lot comfy than sleeping on me my love.” You asked, your hand finding its way to her hair, gently massaging her head of red curls.

Your question fell on deaf ears however as Natasha had already given in and let herself fall back asleep. This wasn’t a problem of course, for now you’d be content to hold and watch over her as long as she needed.

･ﾟ:

By now you’d gotten used to Natasha’s sleeping patterns by now. It was an endearing habit by now. Still despite everything, she’d never complain or whine, always content just to fall asleep where she was.

You’d always reminded her that she only had to ask and you’d be more than happy to get cuddled up in her bed with, but she’d never found it in herself to ask.

Your favourite time it happened was only recently. You and Natasha were attending one of Stark’s galas, truthfully the pair of you didn’t really care much for them but Tony had insisted on everyones attendance so you’d both decided to dress up for the occasion.

Natasha looked stunning, her gorgeous curves being accentuated by a beautiful black dress. You were beyond proud to have her on your arm.

As you entered the grand ballroom, Nat's soft hand in your own, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her. The way she carried herself with such confidence and grace never failed to captivate you.

The dim lights and elegant decor created the perfect backdrop for the event. As the gala continued the unfold, the two of you shared tales, whispered secrets, and effortlessly danced the night away. The drinks seemed to flow endlessly. Eventually you made the smart decision to switch to plain soda, meanwhile Natasha kept going.

Seeing her like this certainly wasn’t something you were used to. “I’m Russian, I can handle it.” This was her usual go to phrase when it came to drinking. You’d never seen her like this, spinning around your arms dizzily as a vodka-fuelled blush danced across her cheeks.

Despite her insistence that she was fine, you couldn't ignore the signs of her growing inebriation. Her once graceful dances turned into playful stumbles, and her words started to slur.

“Nooo, I’m fine, really, come, come dance with me.” Natasha smiled giddily, letting her hands flow over you and she span.

With a playful smile, she urged you to join her on the dance floor once again. As you twirled around together. The spinning and laughter continued until, inevitably, fatigue slowly began to creep in.

In the quiet moments between songs, she leaned on you, her eyes betraying the weariness beneath the intoxication.

You took this as sign to ease her away and you’d managed to get her settled in a small seating area away from the main floor. Now that she’d slowed down, she finally seemed to feel the effect of her drinks hit her. Her wide-pupils gazed up at the ceiling, adorably rambling off in incoherent babbles.

“Do you think we should get you to bed darling?” You smiled innocently, your hand slipping down her dress to rest against her slightly overheated skin.

She closed her eyes, still smiling up at you “Mm’ just fine here wi’ my favourite pilla’.”

“Your favourite ‘pilla’, hm baby?” You chuckled, shaking your head as she sleepily cuddled into your shoulder.

As Natasha drifted into a tipsy slumber, you couldn’t help but cradle her gently, even though this may not have been the most convenient of situations but you were certainly going to enjoy it.

･ﾟ:

Now all things eventually come to an end. Movies, books, and for the two of you, Nat’s little habit was about to be broken.

She’d come home late that night looking a look paler than usual, well, pale for Natasha’s standards anyway. When she’d left this morning her hair had been beautifully plaited, now her curls just hung loosely by her shoulders.

Nat shuffled into the living room where you’d been perched up with a book, kicking off her shoes and letting her bag fall to the floor as she came and nestled into your side.

“Long day?” You murmured softly, setting your book aside as you opened up the fluffy grey blanket you’d had previously draped over your knees to allow her to snuggle beneath it instead.

She simply nodded, biting back the urge to whine, “I hate those stupid meetings.” She grumbled, her voice holding the dragging weight of exhaustion.

Governor meetings were something every Avenger had to attend. They were painstakingly private about it meaning you were never allowed to accompany each other to them. The meetings varied a little from person to person but the main just of it was answering a long series of very repetitive questions and going through countless past missions and their details. Having to sit and listen as some fancy higher ups tried to pick you apart for every individual detail and mistake - and well, with Nat’s reputation of being constantly on Ross’s nerves, they weren’t going to go easy on her.

Nat rubbed her temples, a headache pounding behind her eyes. "And the fluorescent lights in that room... ugh, they're the worst," she added, wincing at the memory of the harsh glare. Her voice was a little raspy, most likely the result of having to constantly explain herself to idiots for the entire day.

You gently massaged her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles, “Do you want me to get you anything for that headache my sweet girl?” Your voice was kept low as your offered, not wanting to run the risk of making it any worse.

Your girlfriend sighed, leaning into your soothing touch. "Just some water would be nice," she replied, her eyes closing momentarily. After handing her a glass of water, you noticed her head nodding forwards slightly as she fought to stay awake.

"You look like you could use some rest," you suggested gently, anticipating her usual move to drift off to sleep on you whilst you stayed cuddled on the sofa.

But to your surprise, the redhead looked up at you with a faint, almost anxious smile. “Could you... carry me to bed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, clear vulnerability thickening her tone.

You weren’t sure you’d heard her correctly at first. You asked her to repeat herself to which she barely mouthed her prior words. You were helpless to stop your heart from melting at her request, realising just how drained the poor thing must be feeling. "Of course, my dear," you replied tenderly, carefully scooping her up into your arms, cradling her close as you carefully made your way into your bedroom, “I told you Natty, I’ll always be here to take you to bed.”

There it was, the moment Nat had finally asked to actually go to bed for once. It was a long time coming and you’d loved being with her for every step of the way, even if it had involved her falling asleep in some pretty less-than normal places.

As you laid her down on the bed, Natasha snuggled into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily, her heavy eyes already drifting shut.

With a soft smile, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Anytime my love. Just close those eyes and get some rest, I'll be right here the whole time."

And right there you stayed, arms wrapped around her and the woman you loved slept against your chest in your shared bed. Finally she was getting the rest she deserved and there was nowhere else you’d ever want to be.

･ﾟ:*

〚 Masterlist! 〛 ೃ༄ 〚Join My Taglist! 〛

@lovelyy-moonlight

[spiderfunkz]

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where the avengers team thought it was a good idea to spend the holidays in your cabin by the woods. where they know you and nat won't get along well, but hey, it's not an avengers holiday without a bit of drama.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where she secretly gets jealous when steve holds you by the waist to help you balance while you put the star on top of the tree. where she'll 'accidentally' spill hot chocolate on your shirt so you can borrow one of hers, because apparently 'hers fit you the best'.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where you find her up late at night drinking half of your bottle of wine. where she'll complain that she couldn't sleep because it was 'too cold'. where you'll eventually join her to the point you're both drunk and laughing, where you actually start to get along for once.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where all of that wine makes natasha drunkenly confess to you. and since you have been drinking the wine too you didn't process it correctly. but as everyone says, drunk words are just sober thoughts. thoughts that both you and nat have been hiding.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where nat wakes up in your bed with you sleeping beside her, her head dizzy from last nights wine. she must've complained too much about her room being too cold to the point you suggest sleeping in your bed together.

where you wake up with nat staring at you confused, rubbing her head. "what are you doing in my bed?" you groan, rubbing your eyes as you try to remember what led to this. "you snore loudly." she replies, causing you to roll your eyes. "get out of my bed. you have your own room here." you stare, natasha smirks teasingly before getting out of your bed.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where a small saying leads into a heated argument. too heated the point nat pins you near one of the door frames that leads to a hallway. where you'll send her a flirty remark before looking up to see she's under a mistletoe you strategically hung.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where she'll look up to see the mistletoe, one of her hands still pinning you against the door frame. "are you scared of a little fake plant?" you'll challenge her, "no." the tension between you and her growing. "well then do it." you smirk, "do what?" — "kiss me." and so she did, which left you speechless and blushing.

"do you want me to do that again? this mistletoe isn't going anywhere."

requested by @patriphagy ! (my reqs for nat r open btw)

[imaginedanvrs]

cancer's a bitch

masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

2.3k words

warnings: reader has cancer and there's no happy ending. major character death

summary: at a time you need her the most, Natasha is nowhere to be found

“The results came back positive. I’m sorry. The next steps will be to start…” You couldn’t hear anything past that. It became white noise to the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, an instant emphasis of your ebbing mortality. 

  You knew about all the treatments your doctor was trying to explain to you, you had been on a deep dive down the web about them every night since you first went seeking help about your suspicions. Now that they were confirmed, you wondered who you should tell first. How could you even begin to find the words to tell anyone that you had cancer? 

  That was all you could think about on the journey home. Natasha would be there and you weren’t sure whether to tell her outright or wait for the right time. You wouldn’t know how much of that you had until you knew how your body took to the treatment. Best case scenario, the chemo would nip it in the bud and never return. It would be a thing of the past before you could fully process it as a terrifying present. Worst case scenario… Well, it didn’t do to think about it. 

  You needed to talk to Natasha. 

  When you finally got home, your heart plummeted further at the sight of your girlfriend packing. You knew that the frantic nature she took to grabbing items meant that she had been called on a last minute mission and that it was probably urgent. You also knew that she could be gone for some time. It could be weeks - weeks you would spend relaying the difficult conversation in your head. Weeks you could spend without her there to comfort you in your crushing fear for your life. 

  “Hey, babe,” you greeted as you hung up your jacket. If her mind wasn’t so preoccupied with work she would have asked where you’d been. 

  “Hi. Sorry I know we had plans tomorrow but I’ve been called away,” Natasha told you without looking your way, too focused on filling her bag as quickly as possible. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched the redhead for a moment, debating whether or not to ask her not to go. You had never done that before, nothing had been that important. 

  “You think you could skip? I need to talk to you,” you muttered, threading your fingers together to stop them trembling. 

  “I can’t skip a mission for a date, detka,” Natasha huffed. You swallowed. 

  “It’s not that,” you said with a forced chuckle. “I’ve just been to the-”

  “Y/n, I need to go,” she told you pointedly. 

  “There are other agents.” You didn’t mean it to sound like a plea, to sound like a child trying to convince their parents not to leave them on the first day of school. 

  “It’s important,” Natasha said, zipping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “There are things going on that you don’t understand.” That hurt. 

  “Natasha please,” you tried, not caring how desperate you sounded. Still, she continued for the door. Maybe if she had looked at you properly instead of kissing your cheek in passing, she would have seen the worry written over your features in bold. “Please don’t go.” 

  “I love you, I’ll see you soon,” she called over her shoulder.

  “I love you too but I-” you were cut off by the apartment door closing in your face. “I’m not well,” you whispered. She was already gone. 

*

There were numerous people you could have called to pick you up from your first round of treatment. It was also highly recommended. You were exhausted, but taking a taxi home was the easiest solution, because it meant you didn’t have to tell anyone where you were.

  It had been a couple weeks since your diagnosis and Natasha still wasn’t home. You still weren’t sure how to approach the subject with anyone you knew, counting on your girlfriend to hold your hand through the process. But she wasn’t there by your side and she wasn’t there to take you home. 

  Wanda would have been a good person to tell. She was the kind of friend who would drop everything to be with you when you needed her. She would have picked you up. She would have pulled over to hug you when you began to cry silently in the back of the taxi. She would have figured out a way to call Natasha home but she couldn’t…because she was imprisoned. 

  The battle of Leipzig airport hit the news by storm, as did everything that followed. Half were imprisoned and the rest were either on the run or playing lap dogs to the government, leaving you alone. Upon hearing that your girlfriend was an outlaw, you were able to piece together that you wouldn’t be seeing her for a long time. Nor would you see your friends. You were deserted. 

  You collapsed over the toilet once you were home, bringing up the contents of your stomach as your weakened knees groaned in protest from the impact. They were already bad - your legs - having been the area the cancer was attacking, but every short track you made seemed to make the pain worse. So much so that you were tempted to let the exhaustion overtake you on that very bathroom floor. You just wanted to close your eyes in hopes of having a short break from your reality. 

  Instead, with a small whimper, you forced yourself up and towards the bedroom. The sheets didn’t smell like Natasha because you had had to wash them a few days prior. You had sprayed some of her perfume on her side of the bed but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t her. Still, you clung to her pillow as if it was, imagining her strong arms wrapping around your frame tenderly. She always protected you in your weakest moments, except that one. Except the worst. 

  Weeks turned into months and things became considerably harder. The pain was progressing with the cancer, working its way deep into your bones despite the aggressive treatment you had. At the start, a bad day was not being able to make it into work. After months, a bad day was not being able to get out of bed. The treatment wasn’t working. 

  “We need to operate,” your doctor told you. You peered at the frown lines along his forehead, wondering how many people he had given that news to before you. How many people had sat in the chair you were in, listening to the doctor tell them their body was failing to fight off a biological evil? Were their loved ones sitting in that office with them, occupying the empty seat next to you? Were they waiting outside? Were they a phone call away? You should call your parents. Nothing buried the hatchet like telling your parents you were dying, right? 

  You didn’t want them though, you wanted Natasha, wherever she may be. She could be dead. Perhaps if she was, you would be together sooner than it would take for her to come out of hiding to see you just once. You didn’t want that. You weren’t that selfish. You hoped she was okay, better than you at least. But you were selfish enough to wish she would come see you, just once. It would be dangerous, stupidly reckless. There were no doubt eyes on your home at all times, waiting for Natasha to come back for you. That was why she couldn’t come. Yet you still couldn’t help but think fuck the risk, please just come hold my hand. 

  That was all you could think as you were wheeled into surgery and when the mask was placed over your face. You didn’t wish for success or recovery. You wished for her. You were naive to even try. She wasn’t there when you woke up and even though you hadn’t expected her to be, it still hurt to see the visitor chair next to your bed empty. You weren’t desperate for company, if you were you would have called your parents. You had always prided yourself on handling things on your own, even the burdens you could share with others. So no, you didn’t want sympathy, cards, flowers or visitors. You didn’t even care that you still had to get a taxi home instead of having someone waiting for you in their car. You just wanted a text from your girlfriend, to know that she was still out there somewhere thinking of you - caring about you. 

  Even after a year, you refused to give up on the dream Natasha would some day come home. You still celebrated your anniversary. You celebrated her birthday. You placed a present under the small tree for her on Christmas, leaving it there even after you took the tree down. You left the first aid kit on the windowsill in the bathroom. You always made sure there was a fresh pb&j sandwich on the kitchen counter when you went to bed. Even when keeping the apartment clean and tidy became too difficult for you, you ensured that anything Natasha might need, should she come home, be out ready for her. 

  After two years, your doctor refused to continue your treatment. It was causing internal bleeds. It was stripping you of energy you didn’t have to start with. It made you sick. You were entering stage four, something that didn’t always mean you were approaching the end of the road. But in your case, you were. 

  Then, finally, you received a text. 

  Unknown number: new jersey, tmrw. I’ll send you an address once you land -n

  You blinked at your phone. You weren’t going to make it downstairs, never mind to the airport. There was a high chance Natasha had destroyed the phone as soon as she sent the message, but you had to at least try and find a way to say what you needed to. 

  Me: goodnight, see you in the morning :) 

  It was code, something you had come up with years ago. It was a text you had always dreaded receiving but had never pictured yourself sending. Why would you? Your girlfriend was the spy who’s life was always in danger in some sense, yet it was you preparing for what would come next. 

  You closed your eyes, content in the fact you had managed to say goodbye in some sense. It wasn’t the way you wanted, but it was better than nothing. 

  You awoke, two days later, to the sound of your window being opened. You opened your eyes but couldn’t raise your eyelids more than half way, adding to the poor visibility the night time provided. You only saw the figure when it moved, but you weren’t alarmed by the presence of something unknown no matter what it could mean. You hoped it meant you weren’t going to be alone when you went, no one deserved that. 

  “Y/n,” Natasha’s name pierced through the room. Your breath hitched in your throat but you were unable to answer. Your throat was sore and you hadn't had a drink in a long time. You didn’t have the strength to grab the glass on your bedside table. 

  Natasha turned the lamp and you really wished she didn’t. You didn’t know what you looked like, but the last time you saw your reflection you were greeted with someone you didn’t know. Would Natasha see it that way? Wonder where her girlfriend had gone? She had always been an expert on concealing her emotions, but her shock then was clear. Not just that, she was scared. You knew that feeling all too well. It had taken her place as the one constant in your life. 

  “What…are…” She was at a loss for words, you noted. She took a tentative step that allowed her to be close enough to see the tears brimming in her eyes. God, you always loved those emerald eyes. 

  Natasha brought the glass up to your lips and you managed two sips before turning your head away. “What do I do?” She asked, voice shaking. Your hand managed to find hers, linking them together with the intention of never letting go until you had taken your last breath. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing your hand. You managed a smile. “I love you so much.”

  “Love you.” There was so much more you wanted to say. How much you missed her, how you had waited for her to come home. You wanted to rush her out of the apartment under the fear she would be caught, but you also wanted to tell her that you had been hanging on for her, keeping the grim reaper outside your door until you were ready to take his hand. 

  “God I…” Natasha also had a lot she wanted to say. She wanted to tell you how not a single day went by where she didn’t want to come running home or at least send a text. How she regretted ever joining a battle that seemed so insignificant in comparison to you laying there. She wanted to tell you about her family and how much she had told them about you and that they had even promised to keep an eye on you as she continued on the run. She wanted to tell you that she was going to be at a loss without you, but seeing the exhaustion on your face, she didn’t want to keep you from your rest any longer. You had waited long enough for her. 

  “It’s okay. You can go now. I love you so much and I’ll never stop loving you. You’ve done so well and I’m so proud, you can go to sleep now.”

  Natasha didn’t want you to see her cry. It took all of her will power to hold it back until the final rise and fall of your chest. She bit back a sob, watching the light in your eyes finally dim so that they could take their place among the stars.

[dawnoftime22]

thief.

| N.R

Warnings: None

Summary: When you go about making your meal for breakfast, it had mysteriously disappeared, leading to an obvious suspect of a redhead.

Word Count: 784

Category: fluff<3

A/N: I've missed writing fluff very very much and this was for @ncsdlr, inspired by their post of nat so here's a cute short little fic about it :]

| Started on 06/03/2024, 5:53 AM |

| Finished on 06/03/2024, 8:58 AM |

Main Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

“What's yours is mine, is it not?"

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You stood in the kitchen, making a delicious sandwich for breakfast and maybe even to enjoy later after training if you don't finish.

At the moment, you were alone up until Thor walks in, going off to the pantry cabinet, assumingly looking for a poptart or cereal for his morning breakfast.

You turn from your plate of sandwich, walking to the fridge and opening it to grab some water. But when you close it and go back to take a bite of your food, it had disappeared, only a few crumbs of the bread and the sauce you put a trace of evidence of your sandwich that once existed right there.

"What the...Where did my sandwich go?" Your voice was full of confusion and shock as you blink, staring at it. Then, you look around, and notice Thor first, standing in the kitchen with you.

"Thor," you say, your expression deadpanned, and he pops his head out from behind the cabinet door, his mouth open in the way you called his name. He hadn't done anything, and even just by the tone of your voice, he knew you were accusing him of something.

Then he notices your empty plate that had a delicious looking sandwich he once saw when he walked in. You couldn't have finished it in seconds. That's when he figured out why you looked a little ticked.

"I did no such thing! I have been standing right here, and my hands are empty." He gestured with his hands, his face in utter disbelief. Your eyebrows furrow further in thought.

"Who is it then?" You raised your hands, your eyes still focused on him. He grabs a box of pop tarts out from the cabinet, opening it to slide a packet out. He looks up at you before going to the microwave, but he stops in his tracks.

"Just make...another one." He pauses in between his words as he notices a redhead passing by, holding an oddly similar sandwich to yours, chewing carelessly. He was too afraid to point it out, knowing the assassin might just kill him if he does.

But you see his eyes following something behind you rather than looking directly at you, so you slowly turn to look at who was there.

A small gasp escapes you. Natasha, stood right beside your empty plate, having come from nowhere. She was staring right at you, holding the exact sandwich you had just made minutes ago, that had disappeared.

"Thief," you exclaim, walking closer to the kitchen island where she's at and putting your hand on it, holding yourself against it. She swallows before speaking up.

"It's not stealing if you left it there," she shrugs, the sandwich moving along with her hand, and you had to process her words for a moment until you let out a small laugh.

"That's the same thing." You tilt your head slightly as you said it, her sentence making no sense. If it was anyone else, you might have already chased them around the room already to retrieve your sandwich.

"Why didn't you just make one yourself?" Thor had left the kitchen by now, enjoying his pop tart by himself while you and Nat continued your playful conversation.

"It's not the same," she says, and at that, you shake your head. Her face was calm, but her eyes held a hint of teasing.

"Well, then, you could have just asked," you mumble. Nat stays quiet, studying your face. She could have just asked, but she also loved poking at you for fun.

"Now I need to make another one." You complained as you pick up your plate, about to go grab the loaf of bread once again while your stomach complained at the late breakfast.

"You can have it back." She holds out the sandwich to you, even though it was clear she had already eaten more than you thought she had.

"No, you've already had a bite of it, keep it." Or more so, multiple bites. You wave your free hand that wasn't holding the plate dismissively, not minding since it was well...Nat, but you were a tinge upset.

She sees the adorable pout your face held, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"I'll make one for you, how's that?" Nat stands up from the barstool standing tall for the kitchen island, moving to the counters to grab the ingredients. When she turns her head to look over her shoulder, she takes your smile as an acceptance.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed your sandwiches that you had, one being 'accidentally' made for the other, and one being especially made for the other.

--------------

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[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hi there ! Can I request Natasha Romanoff x reader smut? I thought maybe Natasha x virgin!reader first time OR it can just be Nat’s and reader’s first time. (Please make it super soft🥺🥺)

Okay but anon that idea is literally so cute wtf 😖💗 this is shorter than I intended it to be but I hope you enjoy it regardless 

Sidenote: mалыш means baby in Russian (to the best of my knowledge) 

Taking It Slow (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, reader is a virgin, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of a safeword (although it's never used), soft top Natasha, bottom reader 

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" 

Natasha's brow was furrowed with concern as she leaned over you on the bed, gently brushing your hair from your face. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." You looked up into her loving eyes, knowing she would take care of you. "Just...take it slow, okay?" 

"Of course, mалыш." She pressed a soft and loving kiss to your lips before working her way down the rest of your body. Your jawline, neck, collarbone, none of it went untouched. She kept going until she got down to your thighs, where she settled herself between them. 

"If at anytime you want me to stop, just let me know, okay? Do you remember our safeword?" 

You nodded your head yes, to which Natasha clicked her tongue at you. "Honey, I need verbal confirmation if you want this to happen." 

"Yeah, I remember it," you said, anticipation building. 

"Good. Use it whenever you want to stop, okay? I don't want your first experience to be an uncomfortable one." 

"Okay, I will." 

Satisfied with your response, she began leaving kisses on the inside of your thigh. Occasionally you felt her nip at your skin, a sign that she was gently marking you up, leaving hickeys wherever her mouth would go. 

You sighed contentedly before letting out a series of soft moans as she moved her mouth from your thighs to your glistening pussy. She pressed gentle kisses on the sensitive area, and you could feel her smirk against your skin when you let out a sudden gasp at her lips moving up to your clit. 

She was toying with you, and you knew it; but you loved it regardless. 

You felt as she pressed feather light kisses to your clit, giving you just enough friction to feel it but not nearly enough to be able to properly get you off. 

As much as you wanted to grind up against her face, you knew you had to remain patient if you wanted to be able to truly enjoy this. You had waited this long, surely you could wait a little bit longer. Still, Natasha no longer teasing you and just getting on with it would certainly be nice.

"Nat, please." You whined, your hand going to rest on her head lightly. 

"Oh, sweetheart." She peered up at you from between your legs, a visible smirk on her face. "I suppose I have been teasing you a little too much, huh? Let me fix that." 

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt her move her tongue along your already wet folds, eliciting a moan from you so loud your neighbors could definitely hear it.

At least she wasn't teasing you anymore, but that still meant you had a long night ahead of you. 

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[wandaspup]

Head empty: Natasha in overalls working on cars with grease spots on her forehead and cheek and some on her finger tips. Her delicious toned ass on display when she bends down, her neck muscles rippling when she stretches out and that big bulge between her legs waiting for you to get down on your knees and service her after her hard and long day at work.

[ichorai]

the scientist & the assassin ; natasha romanoff.

read part two ; afterlife.

pairing ; natasha romanoff x gn!scientist!reader

synopsis ; fragments of time with your girlfriend, soon-to-be-wife, natasha.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, established relationship, scientist au

warnings / includes ; a bit of cursing, blood/injury, set before civil war era, avengers found family trope idec, sexual innuendos, bucky and sam annoying reader lol, steve being an absolute sweetheart, mentions of fire, liho cameo, mentions of yelena

main masterlist.

JANUARY.

Small sparks flew up from the welding torch as you worked the blue flame over the metal, eyes narrowed with concentration. It was a delicate process, and you were taking extra caution not to mess the process up. You were building new protective gear on Nick Fury’s request, and had to make sure that it was without fault. 

Your girlfriend of three years, however, clearly had other plans. Natasha was leaning against your workbench, brows quirked as she repeated the question that had flown right over your head in the midst of your fixation.

You hastily turned the fire off and shoved the protective welding mask away from your face so you could properly look at her. “Huh? Did you say something?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, though not without a ghost of a grin to her lips. With a sigh, she asked the question for a third time. “I know you’re busy making all your little gizmos and gadgets… but are you coming to Tony’s party?”

A beat of silence. You blinked in confusion. It was only then did you realize that your girlfriend was all dressed up, face dolled up with flawless makeup, donned in a silken, viridescent dress that complimented her figure beautifully. “What party?”

“The annual New Years’ party—Tony’s asked you to come a million times. You’re not gonna leave me all alone with him, are you?” Natasha asked, walking closer to you until her nose was only an inch from yours, placing her hands on the lapels of your lab coat, tugging you closer.

A gulp lodged in your throat. “No, ma’am,” you murmured, lips dipping forward to catch hers. 

She leaned back before you could, however, tilting her head expectedly. There was a playful glint to the deep green of her irises. “Go get ready, then. I already laid out a matching outfit for you to save you the hassle. Who knows… maybe we can leave a bit early too…”

Before she could finish her sentence, you were already shirking off your white coat, hurrying out of the laboratory to get changed for the party. Natasha couldn’t help the amused smile gracing the corner of her lips as she watched you scramble away.

FEBRUARY.

Blood dripped from her cheek. Her hair, her dress, her legs. She was drenched in it.

A shuddering sigh of exhaust fell from her split lips. She gingerly slipped out of her heels, holding the two of them in one hand and walking up to the house barefoot.

“Nat,” you whispered in part-horror, part-concern at her bloodied state when you swung the door open.

“It’s not mine,” she hoarsely mumbled, slipping past you, bee-lining towards the bathroom, in dire need of some cleaning.

Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, plagued with memories of the bloodbath of a mission. There were many questions you wanted to ask her, but you held your tongue. She was in no state to answer your barrage of queries, and needed nothing more than someone to care for her, for a change.

Gently, you took her crimson-slickened hands within yours, uncaring of the blood smearing on your skin. You led her to the rest of the way to the bathroom, gently telling her to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. A small towel cloth was dampened beneath the faucet, and you slowly cleaned off the delicate wounds littered over her arms, her face, and her abdomen. The two of you were completely silent, basking in the comfort of being there for each other. Natasha’s green eyes shone with simultaneous gratitude and hollow trauma. For a moment, it appeared as if she was going to weep, but she kept the tears at bay.

Once you cleaned off most of the blood, you left the bathroom to fetch her some of her sleep clothes—which was really just a worn, sleeveless shirt of some obscure rock band you didn’t recognize, and a soft pair of basketball shorts. She had wiped away the rest of the blood when you came back, stripping her outer layers and shirking them into the sink to wash later.

For now, the both of you just needed to sleep.

She slipped on the pajamas, before settling into the bed with a lethargic sigh.

“Thank you,” she croaked out just as you clambered beneath the blankets on the other side of the large bed.

You hummed in response, roping her close to you, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline. This time, Natasha had to willfully force the urge to cry away.

“Get some rest, Nat. I love you,” you said into her skin.

Natasha relaxed into your hold, eyes drooping shut. She wanted to say that she loved you back, but found that she was already falling into a deep slumber.

MARCH.

“What about Jennifer? She’s in the analytics department,” said Natasha, sipping on her iced tea as she eyed Steve expectantly. “I can set you up with her if you want.”

The blonde man shifted uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know, Nat—”

“For God’s sake, Nat, stop it already!” you exclaimed, but not without an exasperated smile to your lips. “Look at him, you’re embarrassing the poor guy. Sorry, Steve—she’s just looking out for you.”

The hundred-year-old man smiled handsomely, forking some scrambled eggs into his mouth. “It’s fine. I’m not really looking to date at the moment… still trying to figure out how things work this century before I can really settle down.”

“Well, you take your time, Steve,” you told him gently.

“You sure? Rumor has it Allison from human resources has had her eye on you for a while—ow! I was joking!” she exclaimed when you sharply elbowed her in the ribs. “But, really, Cap… I’m happy you’re taking your time.”

The blonde hummed gratefully. “What about you two? Any plans on…” He gestured vaguely, which made you and Natasha glance at each other with a grin.

Your girlfriend scoffed, the green of her eyes glimmering with mirth. “Why? You wanna be the best man?”

Steve seemed to splutter at that, vehemently trying to backtrack. Heat flushed his cheeks a soft pink hue.

“I’m just pulling your leg, Steve,” Natasha quipped, playfully kicking at his foot beneath the table. “Lighten up, will you?”

“We haven’t even spoken about marriage yet,” you chimed in, smiling warmly at the ex-assassin. “But who knows? Maybe we will soon.”

APRIL.

Nails tapped loudly against the surface of the table she was sitting on, legs crossed as she languidly leaned back, staring up at the artificial white lights of the laboratory. She was saying something—something about her last mission with Tony. 

Judging by her expression you quickly stole a glance at, you could tell that she was complaining. There was a slight knit to her brow, and she was frowning ever so slightly.

You made quiet, absentminded noises of acknowledgement as she told her story, nodding emphatically. You were working on a device to immediately disable strong magnetic fields, tinkering with the small bits and pieces with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe I should just stop worrying about him—it’s not my problem if Tony drinks until he can barely stand up…”

She trailed off, tilting her head back down to watch you work. With an amused scoff, she said your name. Without taking your eyes off your work, you merely hummed, “Mhm?”

“You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said, have you?”

Hopping down from the table, she made her way closer to you, her fingers nimbly slotting beneath your chin. You met her gaze, briefly glancing down at her parted lips, skin flushing with embarrassment. 

Sheepish, you grinned apologetically. “Sorry, Nat.” She arched a sharp brow and you winced. “I love you…?”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha acquiesced, a ghost of a grin tracing the corner of her lips. “I love you, too.” She let you go to haul herself back up onto the table, swinging her legs in an almost child-like manner. “Anyways, as I was saying…”

MAY.

Sunglasses, glasses of chilled orange juice, and warm sand beneath your feet.

Closer to the beach’s shallow waves, Bruce, Steve, and Clint were playing with a frisbee, while Tony and Thor were off on a ski-boat, skimming across the waters much faster than they probably should be going. The team was on a little mini-vacation, needing some well-deserved rest after going on nonstop, continuous missions.

A book was cracked open on your lap, one that you had been meaning to start for ages now, but never had the time before. Beside you was your girlfriend, lathering sunscreen over her arms and exposed skin. “Did you put on sunscreen?” she asked you, offering the bottle.

“Yeah,” you replied, prying your eyes away from the novel to press a kiss to her cheek, and then another to the side of her nose. 

She grinned beautifully, the green of her eyes gleaming with fondness. “You’re such a nerd. Who brings a book to the beach?”

“Well… look who’s dating the nerd who brought a book to the beach?” you replied with a level tone, trying your best to suppress your growing smile.

Huffing in amusement, Natasha lightly shoved you, taking another sip of her orange juice. “God, it just feels like we never get to fully relax like this, you know? I wish every day could be like this.”

Shutting your book, you placed it off to the side and shuffled closer to her, curling an arm over her shoulders. 

“Yeah,” you hummed, tracing aimless shapes along the skin of her arm. Hesitant, you spoke up again, “Hey, you remember when Steve asked us about getting married?”

“Mhm?”

“Well, uhm…” you started, but thought better of it, not wanting to ruin such a perfect moment as this one by forcing your girlfriend into a commitment you weren’t even sure she really wanted.

When you trailed off, Natasha pulled away from you slightly, her head cocked in an expectant manner.

“If you’re not gonna ask me, then I will,” she told you with a laugh to her voice. “You wanna get married?”

For a moment, you spluttered for words, not expecting this turn of events. 

“You… Nat, are you sure?” you rasped, cupping her face gently. “I don’t want you to rush into anything. Yes, a thousand times yes, but fair warning—it means you’ll be stuck with me forever. Forever is like… a really long time.”

Natasha hummed, leaning forward until your nose brushed against hers. Gods, you loved this woman so fucking much. 

“Sounds like a nightmare,” she whispered, a ghost of a smile to her lips. “Sign me up.”

With that, she kissed you, tasting of orange juice and a tiny bit of sunscreen.

JUNE.

Sam and Bucky hovered around your lab like a pair of incessant flies that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much you swatted at them. 

“Don’t touch that, Bucky,” you found yourself saying nearly twenty times, followed by an exasperated sigh as he would proceed to prod and poke at the machinery. 

Sam was no better, asking you about a million questions in regard to all the different gadgets and gizmos in progress.

On a normal day, you usually wouldn’t let these two into your lab, but you were ordered to fix and improve both of their broken comm links, and made the terrible mistake of inviting them to come watch. Of course, they grew bored of watching you toy with wires and circuits, opting to wander around your lab with wide, curious eyes.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked, holding up a small, black cube half the size of his palm.

“Collapsible motorcycle,” you replied, briefly glancing at him, before returning your gaze to your work on the table. “Just don’t press the button on the bottom.”

Whistling with clear impression, Sam looked nearly tempted to try it out. But he knew you would slice his hand off if he did, so he set the cube back down. “That’s sick, man. Who’s it for?”

“Nat,” you said. “Made it for her. It’s still in its testing phase—I’m hoping it'll be all done and ready by her birthday.” 

Bucky glanced over Sam’s shoulder to look at the cube. “I like riding motorbikes,” he said. “Could you make me one?”

“Unless you could get Fury to order me, that’s a no,” you huffed out with a mild laugh. “I barely agreed to fix your comms for you—which, by the way, how did you even break them this bad? Did you guys pour a bucket of water over and stomp on them, or something?” 

At the memory of Bucky and Sam both accidentally tumbling into a river during a mission, they both grimaced.

“Something like that, sure,” said the century-old man, wearily pulling at his face.

“That’s not fair,” Sam, a full grown man, just about whined. You halted in your ministrations, raising a brow. “How come you don’t make us any fancy little tools or weapons or bikes or magical gizmos, but you make ‘em for Nat?”

Scoffing, you dipped your head back down to continue polishing off their comms. “Yeah, well, she’s my fiance.”

“And?” said Sam, placing his hands on his hips. “Am I not your best friend? Is Mr. Cyborg here not your second best friend?” 

Another deeply amused laugh rumbled from within your chest. “With how you two are behaving, I’d say Steve is my best friend right now.”

The two were left sulking in your lab for the next hour, with Bucky nearly catching on fire when he picked up a flamethrower disguised as a potted plant. Both of them left with charred fingers, singed eyebrows, and about half a dozen of your tiny gadgets stuffed within their pockets.

JULY.

It was Steve’s birthday, which meant Natasha organized a barbecue in Clint’s large backyard. There were red, white, and blue streamers hung up over the trees and over the house’s porch, several star-shaped lanterns decorating the wooden tables set out. Bruce and Tony were manning the grills, while you were playing a game of catch with Peter and Clint’s kids. The rest of the Avengers were gathered by one of the tables, piling up their plates high with food.

The air was heavy with the mouth-watering aroma of cooking hot dogs, grilled corn, and juicy burgers. Dessert was an assortment of cookies, an array of melting popsicles, and a large blue birthday cake that made Steve smile so wide it was yet to leave his face.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Natasha speaking to Thor, her hand extended out to him as the God inspected the ring on her finger.

“A grand ring, that is!” the Norse God bellowed. “Green suits you, Natasha.”

“Thanks, Thor,” said your fiance, grinning warmly. The two walked off to grab some hotdog buns and harass Tony to hurry up with cooking.

The ball nearly hit you in the face because you were so busy staring at Natasha, stopping inches from your nose when Peter darted forward with his near inhumane reaction time to grab it away. 

“Woah!” he exclaimed, afraid to have accidentally hurt you by hurling a fast ball at you when you weren’t even paying attention. “Sorry, are you okay? What are you looking at?” 

You pursed your lips, glancing one last time at Natasha. A blush creeped up your neck. She was going to marry you soon. How on earth did you get so lucky?

“Nothing, kid. Come on, hand me the ball, why’d you stop?” you cleared your throat in a fruitless attempt to play it off.

Peter followed your line of sight, brows raising when he caught sight of Natasha now showing off her ring to Steve and Bucky. He smiled slightly, but didn’t say anything about it, instead tossing the ball right back to you (which you still somehow missed catching).

AUGUST.

“Here,” you said, handing her the steaming mug of coffee, just how she liked it—dark with a tiny bit of sugar. “You okay? You’ve been more quiet than usual the past few days.”

The two of you leaned against the balcony’s railing, watching the sun rise over the cityscape, painting the sky a myriad of soft oranges and clementines and tangerines. With your free hand, the other being occupied by your own hot cup of tea, you wrapped around Natasha’s waist, tugging her close. You pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, brushing an errant strand of hair falling away from her loose braid.

“Sorry, I’ve just recently been thinking,” she whispered, a bit distant. “My sister is out there, somewhere. Sometimes I think it’s best to just give her her space, since she hasn’t reached out, either. Maybe she doesn’t want to see me ever again—after all, I’m a living, breathing reminder of the Red Room. The terrible things we were forced to do. I’m not too upset about it… it’s not like we were a real family, anyway. I don’t know. I guess I just miss her.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to tell her. Go find her sister? Forget about her? Tell her to think about it some more? Natasha rarely ever spoke about her past, much less her temporary ‘fake’ family.

A frown crossed over your lips, brows divoting. “Nat, if your sister really wanted to see you, she would reach out. You’re an Avenger—it’s not that hard to find you. You can’t really say the same about her… you don’t know a single thing about where she might be now. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Natasha sipped on her coffee, blowing out a tired sigh. Tears warbled over her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, sniffing slightly.

“Do you think she remembers me?” her voice broke just a bit. “Because sometimes I forget what her face looks like. Did she have blue eyes, or were they green like mine? How blonde was her hair? What did her smile look like? I… I’m scared I’ll just completely forget and I won’t ever see her again to—”

“She remembers,” you murmured in response. “You were her sister. She’d remember.”

Another sniffle. Natasha wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand. 

“God, sorry. I’m such a mess,” she croaked, laughing bitterly.

“And I love you anyway,” you told her, kissing her just below her watery eyes. “Come on—let’s go watch some TV.”

SEPTEMBER.

The wedding was a small, quiet event. 

You, Natasha, and the rest of the Avengers family were once again gathered in Clint’s expansive yard—though, this time, everybody was dressed much more formally than they had on Steve’s birthday. The ceremony was full of tears and sniffling, tissues and running mascara. 

The vows you had written for Nat were long and nearly ramble-y, whilst hers were perfectly short and to-the-point.

Once Bruce had officiated the two of you (having learned how to do so online), you had embraced each other with a watery kiss, grinning against one anothers’ lips. The rest of the group had burst into raucous applause, Tony and Steve the loudest of them all, the two of them being the best men of the wedding.

Then came the food and the dancing, which lasted well into the night.

She was glowing the entire time. Your wife was glowing.

And when you told her so, she smiled, all wide and toothy. “It’s just nervous sweat,” she replied with a laugh as you gripped her waist tighter, before twirling her around in your arms.

“God, I love you,” you murmured, pressing your forehead against hers. 

The green of her eyes sparkled with your words. “I love you, too. I can’t believe we’re married now.”

“Take your time,” you hummed. “You’ve got the rest of your life to get used to it.”

OCTOBER.

Your sleeves were rolled up to your elbows, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth. The table was a mess, covered in orange mush, a dozen knives, and your phone playing a video on how to properly carve a pumpkin.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath when you messed up the shape, letting out a long, drawn-out groan. “Why is this so hard? It’s just a pumpkin!”

When you glanced at Natasha and her fruit, you weren’t at all surprised to see that she was well into carving an intricate, detailed design with wide eye-holes and gnarled teeth.

“It’s not that hard,” she replied with an easy smile, clearly amused at your struggling. “What’s going on with you? You’re usually really good with your hands.”

Heat flushed up your neck and spidered across the skin of your cheeks at the hidden insinuation behind her words. “I don’t know,” you huffed, wiping down your hands on the apron you were wearing. Usually you weren’t one to give up so easily, but you had been tinkering with several new task-droids, and there was no better time than now to test them out.

“What are you doing?” she curiously asked once you slid off your seat, reaching into one of the cabinets to pull out the little cuboid robots. “God, it feels like I’m in a Black Mirror episode,” she murmured, watching them come to life and start carving up your pumpkin for you with tiny microblades after you input a design for them to work on.

“San Junipero Black Mirror or Metalhead Black Mirror?” you replied, propping your face up on an elbow as you watched the small bots diligently work. 

Your wife scowled, her sharp brows divoting. “Definitely Metalhead.”

The both of you shuddered, before you dipped forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’m gonna make us a batch of cookies—at least that I know I can’t mess up.”

NOVEMBER.

A wince, a frown, an uncomfortable shift. Natasha was used to pain, and was taught from a young age to steel herself, but the wounds usually never got this bad.

There was a deep slash across her stomach, dark blood dousing the entirety of her abdomen, dripping down her sides and leaking off the lab table you had set her on. You tried to be gentle while you cleaned her up, tried to be quick with the stitches to lessen the pain—but the wound was tender and wide, and you had to slow down to be careful.

The entire time, your face bore an expression of pure worry and concern.

“I’m sorry,” she hoarsely whispered, lips twisted into a grimace.

“For what?” you quietly mumbled, focused on fixing her up.

She blew out a pained sigh as you started another stitch. “For making you worry. I shouldn’t have gone on that mission, I know.”

“Well, you did,” you lightly replied, teeth gnashing together. “No reason to dwell on it. It’s okay, Nat. I’m not mad at you.”

There was a beat of silence. She laid back, fists clenched by her sides as she endured through the pain.

“Just disappointed?” she asked, gingerly laughing, despite the pain it brought to her chest.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I am. I just don’t like seeing you pointlessly throwing yourself headfirst into a suicidal mission, just to come crawling back in shreds. I also don’t like seeing you hurt because I love you, and I need you to be more careful for me.”

Natasha pursed her lips. Her green eyes flashed with pain when you wiped away the excess blood. “Okay,” your wife croaked. “I love you, too.”

DECEMBER.

“Open it!” you goaded, nudging Natasha to the suspiciously unwrapped box. 

Her green eyes were narrowed as she shot you a warning look. “I swear to God, if a fake snake is gonna come flying out like last time—”

“It’s your birthday, I would never!” you interrupted impatiently, gesturing to the box once more.

With a huff, Natasha peeled back the loose lids of the cardboard box, making a noise of surprise upon seeing a little black cat curled up inside, snoozing contentedly. 

“Oh, my God. You got us a little kitty,” she crooned, slowly picking the cat up. The black-pelted feline purred at the contact, nuzzling her dark nose against Natasha’s face. “This is literally the best thing you’ve ever gotten me. It beats anything you’ve ever made for me!”

Clearing your throat, you toyed with the collapsible motorcycle you had hidden in your pocket. “Well… don’t say that too quickly. You wanna name her?”

Natasha stroked the cat’s dark head, her hazel eyes happily blinking shut. “Liho. It means misfortune in Russian—black cats are bad luck, right? She’ll have to prove her name wrong.”

“Liho,” you parroted, smiling so wide it was a wonder your face didn’t split into two. 

With a grin, Natasha placed Liho back down on the ground, who took to weaving between both of your legs, her fluffy tail curved around your shins. 

“God, I love you,” your wife suddenly announced, cupping your face between her palms and littering several chaste kisses all over your cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re gonna love me more after this,” you told her, brandishing the small black cuboid from your pocket. “Come on—I’m gonna have to show you this outside. Let’s go, Liho.”

The three of you made your way out of the house, Liho silently following along like a shadow. You beamed brightly at the small cat, then at your wife, who was squinting against the sharp sunlight, smiling nonetheless. It was all so perfect, nearly too good to be true.

Until the collapsible motorcycle burst into flames while you were trying to uncollapse it, which had Natasha yanking the curious Liho away from the growing fire as you ran into the house to grab the extinguisher.

Alright—maybe not entirely perfect… but amazing nonetheless. 

“Happy birthday?” you sheepishly said as you doused the flames away. “That was, uh… that was supposed to do that.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, setting Liho back down before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You can clean that up later. Let’s go cut the cake—maybe we can skip on blowing out the candles this year.”

As the three of you made your way back inside the house, Natasha glanced down at the little black cat trotting in front of you. “She’s living up to her name so far. God, I can’t believe you got me a cursed cat for my birthday.”

[themultitaskingposer]

Natasha: truth of dare

Y/N: truth

Natasha: how many meals did you eat since yesterday?

Y/N: dare

Natasha: go eat something

Y/N: I don't like this game

[skylarinfinity]

kate : [staring at natasha while drinking her coffee] did every russian call people with their full name?

natasha : [looking up from her breakfast] what? of course not, what make you think that?

kate : it's yelena-

natasha : that's yelena, she... she just different-

[yelena and male reader walk into the kitchen side by side]

yelena and male reader : hello kate bishop, good morning!

[kate looking at natasha with raised eyebrow]

natasha : [sigh] listen here kate bishop- oh lord it's is russian thing...

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy

[magecrafts]

MENACE

natasha romanoff x reader ; you've never been more helpless. nat likes you best like that.

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, cnc, unsafe bdsm practices, no aftercare, somnophilia, heavy choking, one single mention of medical kink

RATED E FOR EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT ; 18+

a/n: i think i remember how to do this. cheers.

Natasha Romanoff is grumpy when you meet her (and sporting a week’s worth of insomnia under her eyes and wearing a tee that’s a little too tight, too, but as appealing as both of those are neither endears you as much as her furrowed brow and little frown).

Two weeks later you’re on recon with her, some assignment dropped into your lap an hour before wheels were expected to be up.

“You’re going into the field, rookie,” Stark told you, and, “Romanoff will babysit you, but if you’re as good as your resume claims you shouldn’t need her.”

Recon only. No engagement unless necessary.

The two of you post up in a slimy cave high in the mountains, half a mile above the entrance to a long forgotten mine that may or may not be the newest hideout of one of Stark’s most-wanted. It’s a stupid assignment, Stark could have sent drones, but you reckon he just wants to see how well you do with bullshit assignments, last minute takeoffs, and taking orders.

“Could be fun,” Natasha says, dangling a flask in front of your face.

“Is this a test?”

She smiles.

An hour later you’re tipsy and breaking a protein bar in half to split for dinner.

“I know this is bullshit,” she says, and to her credit she does sound apologetic, “but Tony likes to test people. He wants to see you prove yourself, you know, make it known that you’re as competent as you are on paper.”

You can’t say that’s not fair. This is, after all, no nine-to-five, but, “How am I supposed to prove myself when there’s fuck-all to do?”

Natasha laughs.

An hour later Natasha’s her own stoic version of piss drunk, you’re far worse off, and you’re staring at each other with a vigor that would scare the hell out of you even if she weren’t your immediate supervisor.

But you’ve always liked fear.

You make the first move: you crawl onto her lap, sink down against toned thighs, and tuck in. Her lips are warm, softer than you’re used to, and she doesn’t protest. She licks into your mouth and clamps her hands around your thighs and though you’ve never crossed a boundary like this before, you can’t see yourself ever going back.

Natasha makes the first move next time.

When she asks you out for drinks the week after you return you assume the address she sends you will be a bar.

It’s her apartment.

Bold.

She answers the door in black fatigues and a tank top and takes you right to her bedroom, sinks down on the edge of the California king, and puts you on her lap. She likes you there, where she can reach all of you, where your chest presses up against hers, and your mouth is right there for the taking. She’s gentle until you push your hands through her hair and tell her, “You don’t have to be so nice, you know.”

She’s never gentle after that.

She likes throwing you around, and likes that you can take it, knows it makes your heart flutter and your cheeks flush when she reminds you time and again how much stronger than you she is. On your back is how she likes you best, with your legs spread open and your knees pushed back as close to your chest as they’ll go.

Sometimes she’ll clamp a hand around your throat and dig her nails into the soft skin beneath your jaw until you can’t breath and you’re clawing at her arm and your vision’s starting to go. Sometimes she won’t let go at all, not until you slip away and your body slackens and she’s left fucking a fake cock into your helpless cunt.

You don’t know what she does to you when you’re out cold until she starts to film it.

Filthy fucking videos, those are, full of her laughter and your inability to protest while she does things like stuff her fist into your sloppy hole or perform a full pelvic exam wherein she dons rubber gloves and leaves you gaping around a speculum far longer than any licensed practitioner ever would.

“Look at you,” she’ll say later after she slaps you back to consciousness and queues up her newest video, “you’re so easy to break.”

It’s easier when you come back to with your mouth empty; when she brings you back and you’ve still got your own panties stuffed into your mouth she never lets you pull them out to catch your breath until she’s had her fun holding you down while you struggle to regain your hold on the world.

Sometimes you wake back up on your own while she’s in the middle of things. You either love or hate those times the most, but you’re never sure which.

“...doesn’t matter if you don’t want it,” she’s saying this time, and she’s blurry above you (and there are three of her and three sets of nails carving jagged red lines down your torso, but you know there will only be one of each in a minute or two), “gonna fuck your whore pussy anyway and you’re going—to—take—it.”

“—Nat—”

“Look who’s awake.”

You can hear the smirk in her voice, can see the bright white glare of her cell camera, and you’re sure you look like hell and that she’s going to give you shit for that later, but that’s the least of your worries.

“Stark should fire you,” she says. “Maybe he will once he finds out you’ve been getting your stupid hole stuffed on camera for months. Or maybe he’d like your little videos. Maybe he’d even want a turn with you, huh? Would you like that?”

No, but only because by her rules you're not allowed to think about anyone else like that.

But you can't say that, not unless you want her to go and make it happen. You learned long ago that Natasha Romanoff is nothing if not genuine in her threats.

“Maybe I would,” you say, low and hoarse, and it almost sounds like a growl.

She finds a pressure point and digs in, and, “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” she says, and you’re out again.

The next morning you wake up to the sun cutting through the window and warming your bare back, waking with you the memories of the night before and bringing it all to a boil in your belly. You want to relive them. You want her to fuck you again, to stuff you full and flood you with desperation and desire.

She pulls the sheets from your body and flips you onto your back, coasting a hand up your shin as she settles at the foot of the bed.

“Show me your pussy,” she says, soft, mocking, like she’s requesting the easiest thing in the world from the dumbest little thing she’s ever met.

Your knees part, legs falling open without thought, and you can tell the slick between your thighs from the night before is still there.

She lifts her brows and looks.

“You look sloppy,” she says, pulling your lips apart and dragging a nail over your clit. “Let me make it worse.” She slaps you before you have time to think and though it hurts it’s the lingering sting that pulls a cry from your throat. It’s been a while since she’s hit you like this, between the thighs, where the shame hurts worse than anything else.

The next time you see it coming, but you don’t stop her. You don’t even bother to keep your legs from trying to clamp shut when she slaps your cunt for the second time, you just screw your eyes shut and force your legs open again because for that you know she won’t stop until you’re crying and begging her to do something—anything—to get you off.

It takes you a minute to focus up when she’s done, to familiarize yourself with the steady throb between your legs and the warm pressure of Natasha pushing something into you.

She’s kneeling between your legs, hands clamped around your thighs to keep them apart as she lazily fucks into you with a cock as thick as your forearm.

“Look at that,” she says with a little laugh. “Even when you’re looser than a ten-cent hooker I can still find something to stretch you out with.”

And you know she can feel you clenching as she tries to ease out, like you’re pulling her in, and if she were any man she’d be spent in sixty seconds or less, but her stamina knows no bounds and even as your hole gushes with relief she’s still driving into you, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[romanovthinkver]

imagine humping natasha’s big cock. she’s leaned on the propped pillows on your bed with a smirk and watches you pathetically rock your hips on her clothed bulge. black boxers coated on your mixed juices, her fat big tip pocking, begging and seeking sone friction. you wine a lot wanting your daddy to grip at your hips to go faster, but natasha would only tsk.

you woke me up wanting my cock, little one, it’s all yours but daddy will not help you. use your strength on rocking your hips instead on whining.

fuck baby girl, look what you’re making at daddy’s cock. do you see baby, mh? a perfect cock slut that’s what you are.

what is it baby? can’t cum without daddy’s help mh? so pathetic. daddy always has to do all of the work because my dumb little baby can’t hump this big cock.

natasha, in the end, growl getting rid of her drenched boxers and proceeds to fuck you roughly; slapping your ass till it colours red and your pussy stuffed with her cum.

inbox is open to requests

[delfiore]

—DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT. (1/3)

pairing: natasha romanoff x android!reader

synopsis: you are sent to gain intel on the black widow by the organization that made you. a relationship with her makes you realize the joys of being human.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: this idea has literally been in my draft for almost two years now lolz

PART II, PART III

When you were activated, you were fully aware of your mission. You gained access to the instructions in nanoseconds; find information on the mind control mechanism used by the Red Room, and retrieve concrete formulaic data.

Tony Stark rarely opened interviews for a lab assistant, but you were invited right away for your ‘excellent display of scientific knowledge and skills in the laboratory’.

You anticipated your moments to be present in the lab. You knew Stark was working on improvements for Black Widow’s electro shock weapon. You stood a little straighter, looked a little too focused on reorganizing Stark’s projects, just to conceal your interest in the woman.

When she entered the lab, you let her eyes linger on you a little, before looking up. Her eyes were greener than you had thought.

Mission Log 001

First contact made. No sign of hostility. Amicable acquaintanceship expected.

FD700-16.

You went on your first date with Natasha a couple of months after your first meeting, all the while you made sure to play your part well. She took you to a fair down by the piers, where you pretended to miss your shots when trying your luck at the shooting range, so that she could display her skills and win you a teddy bear. By the end of the night, Natasha had felt comfortable enough to hold your hand as she walked you home.

“Tonight was fun,” she laughed quietly, the way lovesick teenage girls do.

“Yeah, it was,” you sighed.

All of your research told you the Black Widow rarely showed her true self to people. Even amongst her own Avengers teammates, Hawkeye was the only one she truly trusted. And yet, she grabbed your hand gently, and leaned in to kiss your cheek, and giggled when she pulled back.

“Goodnight.” She said, her voice as soft as the night’s winds.

You watched her leave for a moment before going back inside.

Your maker entrusted you to succeed. You were reminded of it everyday by the engraving on the sole of your foot that read ‘Property of VULCAN’. And you will.

You learned that Natasha liked to used sly comments to deflect personal questions. She could be very charming when she wanted to, but also genuine. You needed to appear harmless. So you opted for brighter colors in your outfit for the date in which Natasha asked you if you wanted to be in a relationship with her.

“Would you maybe . . . wanna be my girlfriend?” There was an unusual meekness to her demeanor that you haven’t really seen since your first date, but it made you all the more fascinated with your subject, and how multi-faceted she could be. Is this what all humans are like?

How do I be more like them?

“If not you, then who?” You let her swoop you into a feverish kiss.

For a moment, you felt at ease, light, human.

Mission Log 063

Subject has made advances and suggested a romantic relationship. Relationship established.

FD700-16.

You played along being her lover, all the while sending detailed information about her back to headquarters, where your maker, a man you only knew as Caesar, would receive them.

She also told you about her sister, and her adoptive parents one day when she came back from visiting them. She said they would be thrilled to meet you. You smiled and said you’d love to come to hear all the embarrassing stories about her when she was a kid.

They served you all the wonderful Russian delicacy when you came to visit which you were grateful for, and for the fact that you were made with a sense of taste and a digestive system. Yelena defended you from her parents when Alexei and Melina kept asking you too many questions. Her family was a weird bunch, but they worked together. You almost felt like you belong.

Mission Log 078

First contact made with agents from 1992-1995 Ohio mission.

Alexei Shostakov (adoptive father)

Melina Vostokoff (adoptive mother)

Yelena Belova (adoptive sister)

FD700-16.

Every touch, every hug, every kiss you shared with Natasha, you acted to perfection. It was imperative that she be convinced you loved her for you to gain her trust. You let her glide her hands anywhere she wanted along your body, touch you with the intensity she deemed right.

For the first time, you were shown the way humans show affection on a deeply personal and intimate level. This was what sexual intercourse was, you thought. You were aware that you would never be one of them, but you didn’t hold back sighs and moans of content when Natasha kissed you and touched you in all the ways that stimulated all the right nerve endings.

Though when Natasha lay naked beside you, her eyes closed as she slept soundly did you get the chance to really look at her without worrying about how she would look at you. And if you knew anything about beauty, you’d say it was her.

Caesar was getting impatient to find more information on the chemicals from the Red Room, so you needed to hurry on your search of the location of the file.

You tried to slip the conversation in as smoothly as you could, whenever it was just you and Natasha, whenever her guard was down. She never suspected a thing, and told you that the formula had been copied onto a disk, which has since been destroyed.

“I just think that it’s horrible.” You mumbled. “The key to weaponizing free will all contained in a tiny disk.”

“Okay, little Detective.” She chuckled and kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna crash now.”

You nodded and snuggled back into her arms.

“I love you.” She murmured.

You bit down on your teeth and held her closer.

Perhaps you loved her too.

“Close down for the night, will you?” Stark said before grabbing his coat.

“I will, Mr. Stark.” You nodded with a smile.

You watched him walked through the door of the lab. Once you were sure he was out of sight, you found a place to sit down, pretending that you were resting so as not to raise F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s suspicion.

Mission Log 085

The formula had been duplicated onto a disk, but subject thinks it has been destroyed.

Standby until further useful information is acquired.

FD700-16.

The next day, you woke up to a distressing message from Caesar:

“Advancing on Avengers Compound on the 25th. Retrieve the disk before then, or you’re shut down.”

The 25th was next Saturday. There was a coldness that ran down your back, a chilling dread at the pit of your stomach. Dread, fear. These feelings couldn’t have been in your original program, you were built to be fearless, but Caesar also built you to learn. Just like you learned to love Natasha.

Your Natasha.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep. It was a rare occurrence to see her let down her guard like this. She had just returned from a mission that took two weeks, and you convinced her to get a full night’s sleep instead of working on reports right away.

You let your fingers glide along her fringes, moving them out of her shut eyes, down to her cheekbones, then ghosting ever so slightly over her lips. You had become so familiar with her plump lips, and the way they behave like creatures in their own rights. Most of the time, you wished to press your own against them, and the pillowy sensation of it gave you what one could only describe as bliss.

“Morning,” she mumbled sleepily.

It was just the two of you here, the morning was early and still. Caesar could never take it away from you. You made sure to store this in your secret compartment, in which you only kept the most important files. Funnily enough, it was full of her.

You knew this day would come, you’d have to do what you were sent here for. But it didn’t hurt any less. You wanted to laugh: you have learned to hurt.

Mission Log 085

Give me two weeks. I’ll have it before then.

FD700-16.

At breakfast, you barely had the stomach to eat anything. You needed to come up with a plan to find the disk without Nat noticing. Every scenario you calculated resulted in the biggest catastrophes, none of them a happy ending.

Happy endings are for humans, not androids.

You felt a hand press against your thigh, and Nat was looking at you with a concern smile. “You okay, honey?” She asked. You felt tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. In a twisted scenario you conjured, void of the logical algorithm you were installed with, you saw yourself happy with Natasha. You wanted to throw your arms around her neck, and cry and confess everything, hoping that she had the heart to forgive you.

Instead, you only smiled, and intertwined your hand with hers. “I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy,” you lied.

A couple of days passed, and still, you heard nothing back from Caesar. You could only hope that he heeded your request.

The time not spent worrying about Caesar’s next move, you spent thinking of a way to extract the information you needed. You thought about texting Yelena or Melina to ask about it, but it would seem way too suspicious for Natasha to ask about something so important over text. So you opted for sweeping through her laptop. Sometimes what you seek lies right under your nose.

And rewarded you were. You found a lead in a file buried deep inside harmless looking files, titled ‘Photos’. The file needed decoding, but nothing that you couldn’t handle in a few minutes. You hovered your pinky over the USB hub, and when the tip of it morphed into a port, you quickly copied the file over.

“What are you doing?” Your blood ran cold. Natasha was walking over to you, unalarmed. Thankfully you were sitting against the bed frame.

“Just shopping around for ideas for Saturday night,” you shrugged casually, retracting your pinky. “What are you wearing?”

She let out a quick laugh. “You know I don’t care for Tony’s parties, so whatever’s on top of the pile.”

“And somehow you always manage to look gorgeous. Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” You teased, setting the laptop aside.

A blush crept onto Nat’s cheek, as she found your hand to press a light kiss to it. When she looked back up at you, there was a tenderness in her eyes that made your knees buckle.

“I love you,” she confessed, “I never thought I’d ever be so happy. But you, you just—“ She shook her head with a smile, “you might have saved me.”

You were at a loss for words. There was an uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach; pain, guilt, anger, you didn’t know. You loved her too, so much, and this moment should have been beautiful.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Nat cooed softly, wiping away at the corner of your eyes.

You only brought your arms around hers and kissed her deeply, afraid your words might fail you. Natasha, I’m not human, I’m a machine, I’m a spy, I was sent to ruin everything, you wanted to blurt out.

I’m not worthy of your love.

“I love you too,” you said instead. “So much.”

As much as a machine can love.

You spent the day tangled up in Natasha’s arms, warm and loved, until you receive Caesar’s message:

“New objective - FD700-16:

Eliminate Natasha Romanoff. Effective immediately.”

PART II, PART III

[spiderfunkz]

✧.* FLOUR N COOKIES.

— summary : when baking cookies with natasha turns into a flour fight.

— word count : 0,6k

— warnings : fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, nat & reader live together, flour fights, pet names, nat being a tease.

a/n : it's october so the autumn-y fics r here !! also i am a firm believer that nat struggles to do basic cooking.

baking was something you've always loved to do, since ever. you loved the process of buying the ingredients, picking the flavours, toppings, decorations, everything.

you especially loved baking for other people. it's your way of showing that you love and care for them, a love language sort of.

and it's always been a tradition for you to bake fall cookies for your friends. today, you were baking them for clint.

it was the perfect time to bake. the weather was perfect, it was foggy but not too foggy since you could still see the reflection of sunlight. the music was playing in the background, and nothing could possibly ruin this you thought.

tying your apron, natasha walks in to help.

"you look good in that apron." she smirks.

you ignore the comment as you grab the eggs from the fridge. "stay focused, we need to finish these cookies."

"well, i'm more or so thinking that you should wear that apron more often." she teases. "these cookies are for clint. realistically, you should be taking the lead." you reply.

"i've never baked before."

"ever? in your entire life? not even once?"

"i'm pretty sure that's what the word never means." — "do you at least know how to crack open an egg?"

you were met with silence. is she serious?

"just crack these eggs to that bowl, please." you point. "like this?" she asks.

you stare at her in disbelief. she seems confused, possibly wondering what she did wrong.

"you know, maybe, without, the eggshells."

she looks down at the bowl, "i think we should leave it. crunchy cookies, you know? it adds more protein, so it's healthy." she awkwardly smiles.

"whatever, i'll just pick the eggshells out." you carefully grab the slippery shells.

"soooo.. what's next?" she wipes the egg residue on her pants. "i'll whisk the wet ingredients, you can help me by grabbing the flour and baking soda."

natasha nods, as she grabs the ingredients you asked for from the cabinets above. "you know i've always wanted to do this with someone." she says, toying with the bag of flour.

"yeah well, this feels more like a me effort instead of a team effort." you state. "there's no me in team." natasha replies.

"yes there is. there's an 'e' and an 'm'." you stated.

"you're so smart, detka. keep blabbering. see what happens."

was that a threat? you look up from the bowl to see her grab a handful of flour. "put that down. don't get closer." you commanded.

"or what?" — "or the cookies won't get done, and clint will have over-floured cookies."

natasha shuffles forward.

"nat. i swear. i just cleaned the floor this morning."

"i'm not even moving."

"i can see you shuffling towards me."

"i'm standing very still. actually, here, catch!" she throws the flour to you. your clean apron was now covered in flour.

"oh you are so gonna regret that, natasha."

you swiftly grab a handful of flour from the bag, throwing it right on her black top.

natasha gasps, before throwing another handful to your direction.

this went on for a good minute before natasha finally stopped it by grabbing the bag from you.

"okay, okay! time out. i've got to take a picture of you, you look like a ghost!"

"really? because you should really look in the mirror, natasha. i can barely make out the red in your hair right now."

she glances at the reflection of the fridge. "that's. rude."

"who looks like a ghost now?"

"you still do. if i poured the mixture on you with chocolate chips and put you in the oven, would you become a cookie?" she jokes.

"don't you dare mess with the mixture."

"don't worry, love. i'd still love you if you were a cookie." natasha smiles.

[imaginedanvrs]

where did you go?

part 1, part 2 l masterlist

natasha x reader. after a week of your worst nightmares coming to life, you come back a different person and Natasha tries desperately to retrieve your old self. but you just don't let her

word count: 9k

warnings: mentions of kidnapping and torture (not in the kinky way this time), canon marvel type injuries, shock, dissociative amnesia, depression, break up, alcoholism

The world around Natasha thrummed endlessly as she continued to climb past the speed limit that she took no care for. Even in her state of distress, she maintained the reflexes and awareness that made her one of the few people who could drive so fast down the cramped street without issue (or fine) until she pulled up as close as she could to the city hospital. The redhead knew the way to the ward they kept you on as precisely as she did her own home, having been to that very building enough times for her teammates. She had always prayed against all odds that she would never have to go there for you, especially since you disappeared a week prior. 

  “Miss Romanoff?” A timid nurse asked when Natasha crossed her path.

  “Where is she?” Natasha demanded at once as she scanned the immediate area. 

  “Room six, but I should warn you-” the nurse called but the redhead had already started down the corridor towards your room, ignoring the warning that would have made the next few minutes marginally easier to process. 

  “Malysh,” Natasha breathed her first sigh of relief in a week as she stepped into your room and closed the door behind her without looking away. Your head was turned towards the window on the opposite side of the room and you didn’t acknowledge the sound of your girlfriend’s voice. Natasha simply assumed you were asleep at first and crept across the room to the chair, pausing when she saw your eyes were open but that they didn’t appear quite right. They were unfocused and frozen and the Avenger realised with a sharp pang that there was no brightness to them. It wasn’t just your eyes either. 

  “Hey,” your girlfriend greeted tentatively as she sat down and watched you with great apprehension. You were paler than she had ever seen and the scratches that Natasha would have usually tended to were the least of her concerns. 

  “Hey,” you whispered back, your gaze remaining locked on the window. Natasha willed herself to smile at the mere fact she had received some kind of response. 

  “It’s okay, I’m here,” she continued as she took your frail hand in her own.

  “M’here,” you repeated. Natasha’s weak smile faltered. 

  “Y/n?” She asked, watching you closely as she felt her entire body freeze in anticipation.

  “Y/n,” you repeated again though your voice was indicating that you were already growing tired. Natasha didn’t have a response of her own to that, she merely stared at the blank features of the woman she adored. 

  “Miss Romanoff?” A new voice called. Natasha tore her eyes away from you and turned to the door where a doctor was making her way into the room with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’ve got some concerns.”

  “Tell me yours first,” the redhead said adamantly, wanting answers instead of pity. Pity wasn’t going to help either of you and she needed to know what she had to do to get you back to her. 

  “We’re not too concerned about the physical injuries. She’s got some broken ribs and some lung damage we want to monitor but she’s going to be alright,” the doctor informed as she glanced your way. 

  “She doesn’t look alright,” Natasha commented bluntly. 

  “Look…a’right,” you echoed on cue. 

  “It might be shock,” the doctor said with an edge of uncertainty that told Natasha the doctor was relatively new to delivering news like that. If she wasn’t so impatient for answers she would have been gentler with the young woman. 

  “Or?” She pushed. 

  “Miss l/n is scheduled for a scan tomorrow to rule out brain damage.” An uneasy silence filled the room for a few uncomfortable moments as Natasha struggled to process what the news meant while avoiding looking directly at you, suddenly unwilling to see your dull eyes that couldn’t meet her own. But she didn’t let go of your hand, even if it was unnaturally still and cold. 

  “So if it’s just shock, she’ll snap out of it?” The Avenger queried, as though she wasn’t only preparing for the worst outcome. You had always been the optimist in the relationship. 

  “With time, yes,” the doctor confirmed with a confidence Natasha was glad to hear. 

  “And if it’s not,” she pushed. 

  “Then we’ll assess her for the best course of action.” Natasha thought that sounded as though it was fresh out of a med school textbook. 

  “Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.” 

  “She’s in the best place right now,” the doctor added upon seeing Natasha’s clear agitation. 

  “Thanks,” she repeated, knowing there was no denying that fact. Even the Avengers came to hospitals when they needed urgent attention as there were only so many resources and personnel at the tower or even the S.H.I.E.L.D base. 

  With a polite nod, the doctor left Natasha in your company. The redhead still didn’t look at you, even when you began to mutter again. “Six’een…four…” you continued on as though you were giving your girlfriend some kind of code just to see her sweat to solve it despite spending a sleepless week doing exactly that as she pulled every recourse into finding you. She had failed. When the hospital had rang her, they told Natasha briefly about how a vehicle had pulled up just a couple feet short of the ER entrance and left you there. She hadn’t found you, your captors had simply given back your corpse. 

  “It’s okay,” Natasha whispered, her vision blurring as she pulled out her phone with her free hand and forced herself to do something proactive instead of just sitting there waiting to see how bad the news she would receive in a few days would be. 

  “S’kay,” you copied as Natasha sent out an abundance of messages to her team and other useful contacts about your arrival at the hospital, willing at least one of them to be able to track down the people in that vehicle. She couldn’t let herself be consumed by anger and revenge in that moment, not when she needed to stay by your side, but Natasha found it challenging to put those impulse feelings aside when your hand felt weightless. She brought your knuckles up to her lips and placed a tender kiss to them just as a tear rolled onto your hand. 

  “Yeah,” she breathed out, letting herself imagine for a moment that your words were your own. “You’re gonna get better and we’ll go home and I think we should go away on a trip once you feel up for it,” she continued to believe. 

  “Trip,” you picked up. 

  “Exactly, baby,” Natasha smiled through her increasing tears. Your face remained blank. 

  Natasha stayed in that uncomfortable hospital chair for the rest of the day and through another sleepless night with you. Once it got past midnight and you showed no signs of taking your focus off of the window and letting yourself rest, one of the nurses gave you some medication to help and an hour later you were finally asleep. She should have been relieved at the sight, but it only made Natasha wonder how much of your time away you had spent unconscious. What the fuck had they done to you? Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know until you were ready to tell her about it, though that was hard to believe given how many torture methods Natasha knew of and could picture vividly being inflicted on you. She always thought she could keep you safe from ever being subject to those darker horrors in the world, and instead it had made you captive to them. 

  “I can feel your insomnia from here,” Wanda called, snapping Natasha out of one of her rare trances of being stuck in her own head. “Sorry, I knocked,” the Sokovian added as she lingered by the door and her gaze flickered to you. “They told me what’s going on,” Wanda continued as she made her way across the room to the chair next to Natasha. “You should go home and get some rest while she’s getting the scan. I’ll stay,” she offered as she sat down and finally looked at you properly. The shock that flashed quickly across her features was not lost on Natasha. 

  “Sixteen…four…thirty…” you muttered as you stared straight ahead.

  “She keeps doing that,” Natasha said. “Can’t you do something?” It was the first time Wanda had ever heard her mentor sound so helpless and it took her a moment to force herself not to give Natasha a sympathetic smile. “Can’t you just reach in and pull her out?” The redhead continued as she stared at Wanda. 

  “I don’t think I should risk making it worse,” the brunette admitted as you continued to mutter disjointed numbers to yourself. 

  “You think that’s possible?” Natasha asked with a hint of disdain. Wanda knew her teammate wasn’t frustrated at you, but if she allowed her sleep deprived state to take control of her emotions then she would only become more bitter. 

  “I think that her mind is fragile and now is not the time to go rooting around in it,” Wanda stated with a bluntness that Natasha needed to hear. She didn’t respond and the pair sat in silence for a while until several nurses came into the room to take you away and Natasha immediately stood up to follow. “Nat,” Wanda called with a gentle hold on her arm. “Go home. We’re not going to get any answers straight away and if we do I’ll call you,” Wanda tried to reason but the redhead refused without any real consideration. 

  “Can you just get some clean clothes and my toothbrush? I’m not going anywhere,” Natasha insisted as she went to follow the nurses but Wanda pulled her back once more. Natasha felt her anger boil over and was about to make some demands she would regret but thankfully never got the chance to voice them because Wanda pulled her into a tight hug. She froze instinctively until her muscles trembled under the stress and embraced the younger hero. 

  “I don’t know what to do without her,” Natasha admitted as tears welled in her eyes for the umpteenth time. 

  “She’ll be back soon and she’ll need you when she is. Go get some rest,” Wanda spoke into her shoulder until Natasha gradually pulled away with a weak smile. 

  “Not yet,” she said, wiping her tears defiantly and starting down the hall after you. 

*

“So she’s fine?” Natasha asked as she stared down at your unchanged features several days later. She frowned, admittedly having only prepared herself for the worst possible answers from the doctors and wasn’t quite sure how to handle the fact that you were merely in deep shock. It was good news, of course. It was just something that no amount of medicine would cure, nor was there a clear path for Natasha to walk with you to bring you back to your original state. How was she meant to find you? 

  “We’re arranging some meetings for her to see a psychologist and ideally she’ll be discharged in a few days,” the doctor informed. 

  “Right,” Natasha muttered. Bringing you home would be for the best. You would rest in your own bed, eat your comfort food and watch your favourite shows. She would run you a bath and use your favourite bubblebath that had been discontinued months ago when Natasha had hidden one away for when she thought you would need it most. She would take you on the walk routes you always enjoyed the most and hold your hand tight so that you had nothing to fear. She’d listen when you were eventually ready to talk about your week away. She would help you get better. 

  You stirred from your sleep and Natasha observed you closely. Usually she didn’t even realise when you woke up because you remained just as still until you began to mutter again, but that time you shifted in the bed and the only sound to be heard was the small grunt of discomfort at the back of your throat. “Detka?” Your girlfriend called.When your eyes slowly opened, they met hers. “Hey,” she greeted with a smile of relief and moved closer, causing the chair to screech and you to flinch. Natasha winced at your reaction but didn’t let it deter her. “How are you feeling?” She asked, taking your change as hope that you would respond. 

  “Tired,” you whispered as you took in her dishevelled appearance. She was still the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. You reached out tentatively and stroked her cheek with the back of your pointer finger, finding her soft skin to be the familiarity you needed along with her voice and smile. 

  “I bet,” she chuckled softly. You looked exhausted though she would never tell you that. “I missed you,” she told you, searching your eyes for the glimmer of adoration she always saw in them when you looked at her. They were just as dull as they had been a few days prior and when you offered her a small smile, that also failed to reach your eyes. 

  She’s been through a lot, Natasha told herself when she felt her uneasiness arise. “They said you can come home soon,” she told you when you didn’t respond. You nodded a little and looked away from the redhead to take in the small room and the busy hallway outside. Natasha watched as you turned your attention elsewhere and tried to push aside the pang she felt in her chest. There were a lot of feelings coming too close to the surface that she didn’t want or expect. Nothing about the scenes that had been playing out in that hospital bed had been as Natsha expected. 

  “Do you want me to get someone?” Natasha asked in an attempt to get any kind of response from you again but you simply shook your head. For the first time since Natasha had met you, she didn’t know what to say. 

  “You look tired,” you commented after several silent minutes. 

  “I haven’t slept,” Natasha admitted with an honesty she had always promised to have about her wellbeing. 

  “Maybe you should go home,” you said without looking at her. Your girlfriend stared at your side profile, not quite believing what you had said. Did you not want her there?

  “Are you sure?” She asked, not having anticipated leaving the hospital grounds unless you were with her. 

  “Yeah, go get some sleep,” you encouraged with another disguised smile. 

  “Okay,” Natasha said, standing slowly. “Just call me if you need me,” she placed your phone down on the bed next to you. The screen had been replaced. It used to be covered in scratches but perhaps it had cracked badly when you were taken so Natasha had it fixed. Or maybe it was a new phone entirely. 

  “Yeah,” you agreed though somehow Natasha wasn’t convinced you would. 

  “I love you,” she told you at the door. 

  “I love you too,” you didn’t hesitate to reply and noticed the redhead’s shoulders dip slightly. You felt bad at that, knowing that in practically asking her to go you were giving her more reason to worry when she had no doubt done enough of that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to handle her doting presence in that moment. 

  You were overwhelmed and struggling to ignore the flashes of your captivity as bile rose in your throat. You weren’t there anymore, you were safe. There was no reason to keep thinking about it, but you couldn’t stop. Sixteen. It was far too much, too intense. The room was too bright and even Natasha’s lingering presence filled the space too much after so much solitude. Four. It was too loud outside, too open, too much air, not enough. I can’t breathe. Then the machines next to you joined the chaos and suddenly you weren’t alone again. There was so much going on, so much to process. Voices were calling but you didn't want to listen. 

  I can’t do this, just turn it all off. 

  And then it was settled. Everything was peaceful and indifferent. It was manageable and the storm finally stilled. You breathed out and felt the air rush gently past your lips as you settled back into the pillow that cushioned your head and felt the sheets under your fingertips. It’s okay, you thought even though you couldn’t quite place how you ended up in a hospital bed. 

  Sixteen, four, thirty, nine. That was all you could recall.

  The memories returned in patches throughout the day, building and building until you found yourself far too high up and stumbled off of that sharp ledge again. That happened four more times before you went home. 

*

Natasha was good to you as you recovered. Too good. She was patient, understanding, helpful and incredibly caring and you offered her very little in response. She continued to come and visit you though only for a few hours at a time, able to tell when you became too tired and had enough of any company. It hurt her everytime she left, more so as she didn’t know it hurt you too. You didn’t know how to tell her that. You didn’t know how to express how overwhelming it was to have the flashes of your torture strike you like a knife even though you were always waiting on edge for it to hit. 

  Natasha wasn’t entirely oblivious to it all. She saw how your heartbeat was always unusually high on the monitors just like your blood pressure when anyone came to check it. She knew that you didn’t sleep unless you were given something to help and that you rejected the tablets more often than not. She noticed how you constantly eyed the door and the tiles in the ceiling. She knew that you weren’t eating or drinking enough and how laboursome it was just to go to the bathroom and back. Your girlfriend could tell you were struggling, she just didn’t know how much because you wouldn’t tell her. 

  On the day you were discharged, you dreaded going home because it would be harder for you to hide your episodes and nightmares Natasha had yet to witness. You felt guilty for not seeking comfort in your shared apartment with your girlfriend and you really couldn’t have asked for her to be any more supportive about the whole ordeal, so why couldn’t you simply lean into it? 

  The first thing you noticed when you stepped into your apartment was the strong smell of disinfectant that meant Natasha had gone on one of her cleaning frenzies in your absence. She only ever did that on the rare occasions she had some time off from work and you weren’t around and once you had even come back to her scrubbing the ceiling. You had told her to get a hobby and she had threatened to throw the bowl of dirty was over you. 

  Natasha began saying something about ordering takeout to which you silently nodded as you took in the apartment like the first day you moved in together. It didn’t have the same homey feeling you once got the moment you stepped through the door, nor did it provide you the same comfort you could seek after a hard day. First your girlfriend and then your home, why did nothing so stable and familiar feel safe? You breathed out steadily, heading for the bathroom as you felt the panic spread through your nerves and missing Natasha’s concern as she watched you go. 

  The rest of the evening continued on those unsteady grounds that the redhead was cautious to step on. Once the meal arrived and Natasha put one of your favourite shows on the tv, she sat down on the sofa you always curled up together on and stared at her food container when she noticed you sit down on the arm chair that only ever seemed to be used by guests. You didn’t acknowledge the tv much and only picked at your food, feeling Natasha’s gaze on you even when she tried to be subtle. You never used to, but your paranoia made you conscious of things like that.

  “Do you want me to run you a bath? I kept a bottle of that bubble bath that was discontinued,” Natasha offered and you suddenly became aware of how little you were giving back to her.

  “No thanks,” you muttered, feeling a queasiness come on. 

  “What can I do to help you?” She asked after a long beat passed. You didn’t look at her because you knew that if you did you would see a face that would only make you feel more guilty. She just wanted to help and you honestly had no idea how to let her do so. “Do you want to talk to Kate? Or Wanda? Or-” Natasha suggested after sumising that you weren’t going to open up to her any time soon and she didn’t want you to keep things to yourself longer than necessary. 

  “No,” you cut her off. You had absolutely no intention of reliving the past week to anyone, you just wanted to forget about it. 

  “That therapist’s office isn’t far and it’s not until late morning so I was thinking we could-” 

  “I’m not going,” you interrupted again and carried the first clear defiance Natasha had seen on you in months. 

  “Why?” She pushed with a frown.

  “I don’t want to talk to a shrink,” you insisted. The irony of that wasn’t lost on the redhead. She had said the same thing numerous times ever since she joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

  “You should talk to someone,” Natasha pushed, unknowingly aggravating you further.

  “Why? It won’t change anything. Most of the time I can’t remember it anyway,” you told her as you actively avoided her searching gaze. 

  “That sounds like all the more reason to go,” Natasha frowned. She was no psychologist herself, but she knew that wasn’t normal. “Please, y/n,” she pushed as new worries sprang to the front of her mind. 

  “No, Nat. It’s my choice,” you snapped, putting your mostly untouched meal down and getting up from the chair without letting your girlfriend get another word in. 

  “Fuck,” Natasha muttered as she heard you close the bedroom door, making your message clear. She’s pushing me away, Natasha realised with a sense of dread, and it was because she was trying to help. 

  Natasha slept on the sofa that night, forcing herself to give you the space you clearly needed. She was restless and awake more than asleep as she considered everything she could that you would want. It shouldn’t have been so hard for someone who had known you for so many years and dated you for three of them to figure out what support you needed, until Natasha recalled the dullness that hadn’t lifted from your eyes in the past week. It wasn’t the you she was used to, it was someone else, someone she didn’t know. 

  The moment a small whimper could be heard from the bedroom, the spy sat bolt upright on the sofa and listened closely for you, finetuning her senses the way she had been trained to. Another whimper closely followed and Natasha’s fears forced her to her feet and through the apartment, anticipating the worst as she grabbed the handgun concealed in the kitchen and threw open the bedroom door. She didn’t relax when she assessed that you weren’t in danger, finding your distress equally alarming. 

  “Hey,” Natasha said gently as she put the gun down and crouched in front of your sweating form. You were crying out weakly as you struggled against the duvet you had gotten wrapped around you in your unconscious panic. Natasha swiftly untangled you from your bindings and in doing so woke you up. The way you kicked away from your girlfriend upon seeing her stand over you would be an image Natasha wouldn’t be able to forget for some time, even as she gave you her assurance. “It’s just me, you’re safe,” she told you. 

  You panted as you stared back at Natasha with wide eyes until it eventually clocked in your mind that her words were the truth. “Hey,” she greeted again as she tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. You made no move to embrace her like you used to after a bad dream, only glancing around the room as your breathing began to steady. “If you want to talk about it I’m-” 

  “No,” you denied without hearing her out. “But…” you started with uncertainty. “If you want to stay…” you shrugged and Natasha understood that that was the closest she was going to get to an invitation. She smiled in the dark and slipped into the bed beside you as you lay back down without closing the space that seemed too grande to the redhead and cramped to you. It was a compromise that Natasha hoped would put you on the right track. 

*

Another week passed without any progress on finding your captors. Natasha rarely left the apartment so all of the chasing she did was done on her own laptop from the sofa while you distanced yourself in the bedroom. She had agents and teammates following up on any leads she found but they all came up empty. The redhead had only asked you once if there were any details about your captors or where you were kept that you could remember though you shut her down quick enough for Natasha to know it was best not to ask again. 

  Natasha was beginning to suspect that the only way she could bring you any comfort was to kill the people that took you because you were responding less and less to her approaches while isolating yourself more. You wouldn’t go to therapy, even when it was suggested you could attend online and you declined any visitors that came to see you. You rarely stepped foot outside the bedroom and never left the apartment. You weren’t eating or drinking enough or washing as much as you used to. You didn’t even show any interest in the tv, adamant on spending most hours in bed by yourself. You wouldn’t let her comfort you after your nightmares and had yet to witness any of your episodes that you locked yourself in the bathroom to endure. You wouldn’t accept help and you weren’t getting better. 

  “Hi,” Wanda greeted Natasha with a warm hug. 

  “Thanks for coming,” the redhead said as she glanced in the direction of your room that was starting to feel less like a shared space. “She won’t want to see you though,” Natasha warned. 

  “I remember how that felt,” Wanda shrugged simply. “She needs this,” she said as she walked through the apartment with Natasha following a few steps behind. 

  “Hey, y/n,” Wanda greeted gently after knocking several times. Natasha watched from the doorway as the younger hero ventured into the dark room and over to the curtains that she pulled back half way. You didn’t respond, merely pulling the duvet up in hopes that Wanda would take the hint and leave you alone. She didn’t, deciding to open a window an inch to let the cool autumn air in. 

  “I brought you bubble tea,” she said as she placed the peace offering down on the bedside table next to you. “I thought you could use it,” she added as she sat down on the floor next to your side of the bed, content to keep talking to you for a while even if you weren’t going to answer. She knew that you were awake. 

  “Kate’s been asking after you,” the Sokovian continued. “They all have actually, but Kate the most.” You didn’t want to see them. You didn’t want to see anyone. You were fully aware that you weren’t the same person that they knew and you didn’t know how to get that person back. It would only be so long before they all grew tired of who you were becoming, especially when they finally realised that their attempts to help you were futile. You didn’t think Natasha was far off from that conclusion herself and as much as you wanted to stop it happening, you simply didn’t have the energy. 

  Your girlfriend shifted her weight as she watched from the doorway and Wanda nodded at her to give you both some time. She closed the door behind her though Wanda felt her linger outside for a moment before leaving. “She wants to help,” Wanda told you. “You need help, y/n.” You pulled the duvet down slightly and opened your eyes for Wanda to offer you a small smile. 

  “I’m just so tired,” you whispered hopelessly. 

  “I know. It’s exhausting having to relive it constantly,” Wanda admitted. “That’s why you need to get out of bed and focus on something else.”

  “Then talk to a shrink to bring it back up again?” You questioned sceptically. 

  “To help you manage it,” she corrected. You weren’t convinced, but you reached for the drink and took a sip of the sweet liquid that touched your dehydration. “Do you want help having a shower or bath?” Wanda offered. 

  “Maybe tomorrow,” you dismissed.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Wanda insisted with a smile you couldn’t return. She stayed with you for a while longer, though after that your responses grew thinner and thinner until eventually Wanda said goodbye and left you to fall back into a shallow slumber. 

  “How is she?” Natasha asked when she saw Wanda reamurge. 

  “Struggling,” Wanda admitted. “I’m going to come back tomorrow though and see if I can get her up.” Natasha nodded, thinning that it would be good for someone other than her to try and get you out of bed. “How are you doing?” The brunette asked with concern. 

  “I’ll be okay when she is,” Natasha dismissed. 

  “You need to look after yourself too though,” Wanda pointed out though she could tell that was the least of her mentor’s concerns. “Any new leads?”

  “All dead ends,” Natasha huffed. “Fuckers.”

  “We’ve got the best people on it, we’ll get them,” Wanda assured. Natasha wasn’t sure she could wholly believe that, but it was all she had to cling onto in hopes of getting you back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call if you need me,” Wanda said with a supportive smile that lifted Natasha’s spirits more than anything else had that day. Unfortunately, her hopes that Wanda was what you needed were humbled the next day when the Sokovian stepped foot inside your bedroom again to find you far less reluctant than the day prior. 

  “Come on, y/n. You agreed,” Wanda tried to reason calmly though it did nothing to ease the temper you seemed to have woken up with. 

  “I’m not a child,” you snapped. “I’ll get up when I’m ready.” Natasha watched from the doorway as the younger Avenger didn’t allow her patience to waver. 

  “You’ll feel better once you’ve had a wash and we can change the sheets so you-”

 “Leave me alone,” you interrupted with desperation, too embarrassed to admit that the thought of just having a brief wash was too much. Something that used to be so thoughtless and simple had turned into anything but as you anticipated every step involved now that you weren’t moving on autopilot anymore. Even the thought of changing your clothes and coming back to clean sheets you used to love the smell of seemed as though it would just be a disruption to the only safe space you had. There were too many changes, too much going on and too many thoughts. 

  Then, like a punch to the gut, your mind replayed how you had been washed when you were taken and it was so surreal that you swore your skin ached as it recalled how strong the water hose had been and how it had been so cold that there might as well have been spikes of ice in that water that sliced you. You never even fully dried in the damp room before it happened again. Sixteen. “Four…thirty,” you muttered as you hugged your knees and fought back the memories that flooded past your barricades. “Nine,” you continued in search of something to ground yourself to. 

  “Y/n?” Wanda noticed your trembles grow as you blocked out the world around you and incidentally kept everything you were trying to escape in. Trapped with them. Again. 

  “Sixteen…four,” you repeated over and over like a charm to ward off evil but you just weren’t strong enough on your own. 

  “Honey, breathe,” Wanda coaxed but you couldn’t hear her or your girlfriend as she crouched by your sides and tried to take a hold of your shaking hands. 

  “Nine,” you muttered for the last time when suddenly it was all gone and you were back in the room with the two women who noticed the change immediately. 

  “Malysh?” Natasha was the first to speak. 

  “Hey,” you greeted with a sleepy smile. 

  “What’s going on?” She asked, trying to appear far more calm than she was. 

  “Don’t know,” you admitted with a frown. 

  “How do you feel?” Wanda added. 

  “I’m not sure,” you admitted with an uncomfortable uncertainty, feeling that brief stillness become disturbed. 

  “Maybe you should jump in the shower to wake yourself up a bit,” Natasha suggested. You paused, trying to place your finger on why that suggestion didn’t feel right but when you couldn’t identify any legitimate reason not to, you agreed, missing the look exchanged between the pair as you got up and trudged through the apartment to the bathroom. 

  “I’ve got it,” you dismissed when you noticed Natasha trying to join you. She nodded respectfully as you closed the door, then peered back into the bedroom where Wanda remained as puzzled as she was. 

  “What the hell was that? I’ve seen her have panic attacks before but that was different,” Natasha stated as the pair began stripping the bed as swiftly as they could. 

  “I don’t know,” Wanda muttered, stuck with the image of your distress. 

  “Wands, can’t you do something?” Natasha asked not for the first time. 

  “You know it’s not ethical.”

  “But letting her suffer is? She needs meds but without going to the doctor she won’t get them,” Natasha pointed out though that very fact had been on Wanda’s mind for the past few days. She had considered trying to use her powers on your mind to relieve some of the tension your memories placed on it, but she had never done anything like that before and it wasn’t the time to try. 

  “She responds more to you than she has to me ever since she came home,” the widow voiced with a jealousy she knew she had no right to express, but it hurt to see that your friend was somehow doing more for you than she was. 

  “Maybe I just got to her on a better day,” Wanda shrugged in an effort to appease the redhead. She wasn’t convinced, yet Wanda had no other answer to offer.

  Meanwhile, you let the water run through the shower and stared at it with great apprehension. You didn’t make a move to take your clothes off, unable to determine why you felt so uncertain to step under the water. Hesitantly, you took your clothes off one by one as the steam began to fill the room and stuck your hand under the water once you were ready, only to withdraw it with a sharp hiss. You turned the temperature down, waited several moments, and tried again. Better. A lot better once you were under the shower entirely. You dipped your head and allowed yourself some time to let the warm water cleanse your body tenderly then got to work with the soap. 

  “I’ve got you some clothes,” Natasha called from behind the door once you turned the water off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you opened the door several inches and took the clothes with a muttered ‘thanks’ that your girlfriend almost missed. You dressed swiftly and when you were done you stepped out to see that the bed had been made up with fresh sheets and there was a hearty smell of a home cooked meal filling the apartment. You immediately recognised it to be one of Wanda’s Sokovian dishes that she always enjoyed cooking for the team and must have made extra to bring back for you and Nat. 

  “Hungry?” She asked when she noticed you eyeing up the dish she was reheating the meal in. 

  “A little,” you admitted. Even with the enticing smells that greeted you, you didn’t have much of an appetite. “Aren't you meant to have this one with red wine?” Natasha’s eyes snapped to you and Wanda paused briefly. You looked between the two and rolled your eyes, knowing what they were thinking but walking over to the cupboard to retrieve the bottle anyway. 

  “Not necessarily,” Wanda said a moment too late. Your mind was made up and after two weeks hiding out in bed, you just wanted to feel like you were having a normal meal with your friends. 

  “But preferably,” you countered as you placed the three glasses and bottle on the coffee table, entirely aware of the look the pair exchanged when your back was turned. 

  “Maybe we should save it for another night,” Natasha suggested. 

  “Guys, it’s fine,” you insisted as you poured yourself a glass and wished they would both stop looking at you like that. Regrettably, the pair gave in as they plated up the three dishes and brought them over to eat in front of the tv. You remained in the armchair, as you always did, and although Natasha would have much preferred to feel you curl up with her, having Wanda accompany her on the lonesome sofa was a nice change. 

  The two avengers barely touched their drinks though your glass was empty by the time you decided you were done forcing yourself to eat more than you could stomach. After the faint buzz hit you, you wanted to polish off their glasses for them, but you knew that in doing so you would be trying your luck with the pair. You were playing a dangerous game as it was, but for the rest of the evening, neither of them mentioned it. 

  Wanda went home not long after you all finished clearing away and you wondered how long you could leave it before retiring to bed yourself and whether or not to let Natasha know she was welcome to join you. For sleep only. You hadn’t let her touch you since the hospital, shying away from all physical contact despite the way it made your girlfriend wince. You knew that your slow progress was hurting her because she felt responsible, but you still couldn’t snap yourself out of the trance that made anything comfortable feel painful. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around it yourself, especially as every time you tried it sent you into a spiral that ended with you struggling for air. 

  “I think I’m gonna watch some tv in bed for a bit,” you told Natasha. She looked up at you with an understanding smile. God, she’s too good to me. When will she realise that?

  “Okay.” You lingered in the doorway. 

  “Wanna join?” You asked as you picked at the wood in the frame and noticed your girlfriend’s features brighten. 

  “Yeah, I’ll be in soon,” she told you with a beam as she finished up the work she had only just begun on her laptop.  All for you, of course. 

  By the time Natasha joined you, you were in bed but still scrolling through the shows and films offered to you and ended up letting the redhead decide on something. “You did good today,” she told you once the show started playing. 

  “Thanks,” you muttered, unsure what else you could say. 

  “If you want to go out tomorrow, I’d be happy to go with you,” she continued. “Even just for a small walk.” You nodded, but the unease you felt told you that wouldn’t be happening. “If you want to,” she added, probably noticing your hesitation. You should have taken her up on the offer and you did miss being outside, but the mere thought of stepping out of the safety of your apartment made you feel sick. There was no telling what awaited you and there was no guarantee that Natasha could prevent it. 

  “Are you missing anything important at work?” You queried, though the change in subject wasn’t lost on Natasha. 

  “There’s a few other Avengers and an entire organisation that are filling in for me,” she quipped off handedly. You hummed. 

  “But you’re a workaholic,” you pointed out not for the first time since you started dating the redhead. “I feel bad that I’m keeping you here.”

  “You’re not,” she was quick to input, even though you both knew that was a lie. 

  “Okay, let’s say I’m not. Shouldn’t I be trying to like…do things on my own?” You asked. Natasha paused and wondered if you were trying to push her further out of your space. It wasn’t, not consciously, and she seemed to buy that when you glanced her way. 

  “Maybe I could go in for a few hours tomorrow,” she tested for your reaction. “I’ll keep my phone on.”

  “Okay,” you half smiled and settled into the bed more with a strong sense of apprehension as to whether or not you had made the right choice in trying to get Natasha out of the apartment for a few hours. 

  You didn’t sleep much that night and you knew that Natasha didn’t either. There was an anxious hum that charged above your bed as you both thought about what your days would entail without one another. Natasha would be thinking of you constantly and it didn’t help that you had recently developed the habit of ignoring your texts. You, on the other hand, realised that you weren’t going to be entirely sure of what to do with your privacy, but you did want it. Natasha clearly wasn’t as keen because the next morning she must have assured you five times that her phone would be on and that you could call whenever you needed her, or anyone else. It was the first time you had ever watched her leave later than planned. 

  You admired the stillness of the apartment for a while. The busy hum of the city on the other side of those walls continued to emanate through, but the apartment itself was entirely void of the frantic energy it had been consumed in for the last few weeks. It was finally just you. You enjoyed that fact for the first half an hour, wandering freely through the space and relishing in your own company, until your mind had enough of the rare peace and insisted you return to panic.

  Suddenly, you vividly recalled what it had been like the last time you were entirely alone. You unwillingly thought back on the gas that had been expelled into the black box you were contained in and how soon the chemicals had dug their way into your conscience to twist it in the most unnatural fashion. You remembered how it had fried all logic and precisely compromised every one of your senses that still felt surreal. You recollected the feeble attempts you made to cling onto what you knew to be real but that it proved impossible when the enemy you were losing to was yourself. 

  Sixteen. Four. Thirty. Nine.

  Your head was spinning wildly as you stumbled into the kitchen. Your memories forced themselves so far to the front of your brain that you weren’t even sure of what you were doing when you swiped at one of the cupboards and accidentally threw it open. The sunlight streaming into the apartment caught onto the bottles and without a moment’s consideration, you grabbed the nearest one and took a sip. Then another. Then another as you dropped to the floor and begged for the alcohol to tackle your thoughts for you. You couldn’t do it alone. 

  More sips until eventually a light fog began to blur the images behind your eyes. It still wasn’t enough so you continued until the fog grew heavier and the images were finally obstructed. It wasn’t a victory by any means. It was simply a rest. The best one you had had since you were left outside the hospital. 

  You glanced down at the light bottle and realised with a drop that it was empty. Natasha would surely notice a missing bottle given that you didn’t keep many so you quickly took out your phone, ignoring the various messages, and ordered another one for you to swap out. It was only once you paid an additional fee for it to be delivered within the next ten minutes did you realise that you were going to have to leave the apartment to retrieve it downstairs. It was a daunting thought, but you were all too aware that it seemed far more manageable with the liquid courage in your system. 

  Fortunately, it didn’t take more than five minutes for you to descend the five flights of stairs, bin the bottle, retrieve the new one and scale back up to your apartment. Though your heart had been pounding the entire time, you felt good that you had managed to pull it off successfully and in the midst of the relief, you hadn’t even taken a moment to consider that the stress of what you had done was because it wasn’t right. All of that was to avoid your girlfriend finding out that you had been drinking, yet you never gave a second thought to it when your head felt lighter on your shoulders than you could recall it being in a while. 

  You emptied part of the bottle and placed it back where the previous one was with a sense of satisfaction before sitting in the armchair for your last hour of peace. With the slight intoxication, it went by faster than you anticipated. Maybe it was also down to the alcohol, but when Natasha stepped through the doorway and set her eyes on you, her expression was unreadable. 

  “Hi,” you greeted with some uncertainty. 

  “Hey,” she muttered back as she took her jacket off. You couldn’t help but think back on how you used to greet each other when you got home. A tight hug, a small kiss that usually led to more, conversation, smiles, laughter. Love. You felt your gut twist uncomfortably as Natasha trudged through the apartment to the kitchen without looking at you. It seemed as though the moment you had been awaiting was growing closer. Natasha had enough. You had to give her credit for dealing with you as long as she did. That should have been your cue to stop her and start to put things right, but you couldn’t do that to her, you couldn’t get her to carry the dead weight much longer. It wasn’t fair. 

  “How’ve you been?” She asked from the kitchen. 

  “Okay,” you answered, pulling at a thread in the armchair. “How was work?” It was a small domestic attempt Natasha took no notice of.

  “I texted you,” she told you instead. “Called a few times too.”

  “My phone’s on silent.”

  “Then what’s the point in having it?” She asked, her voice full of unspoken accusations without realising how right she was. 

  To order booze behind your back. You didn’t answer and Natasha didn’t follow up. 

  You didn’t say another word to one another that night and the tension that filled the apartment was almost suffocating. The alcohol in your system wore off far too quickly for your liking and made the evening considerably tougher. You considered, countless times, going to your girlfriend to explain yourself to her. But how could you? How could you tell her that you had seen her, and many many others, in that basement where you were kept? How could you tell her that you had lived out your darkest nightmares and that she had been right there inflicting them? How could you tell your girlfriend that even though you knew none of it was real, you were scared of her? You never did and as the days blurred into weeks, the tension in your apartment reached its long awaited breaking point. 

  If you were being completely honest with yourself, you started to depend on the drinks. You never let yourself think about it long enough to conclude that what you were doing was wrong, not when the result of it was the only respite you ever got from your mind. You could never drink Natasha’s surveillance, but it didn’t prove to be a problem when your girlfriend fell into her own harmful habit of spending most of her time and work. She didn’t want to be around you.

  You stopped forgetting about what happened once you were reacquainted with the entire collection of memories of what happened. There were no brief moments where you couldn’t recall your torment ever happening, leaving your only respite to be alcohol. You didn’t intend to depend on it, but you did. 

  Natasha never noticed. On the days where you had too much, you simply put yourself to bed after brushing the taste and smell of alcohol away and it was too easy for Natasha to perceive it as ‘one of those days’. You rarely spoke to each other. You rarely looked at each other. You both allowed for your love to be buried on the rubble of the ruins you created, still alive and too stubborn to let go but lost from view. 

  One night, you let yourself get too carried away. You were slumped against the cupboards on the kitchen floor as you tried to make sense of the spinning apartment when Natasha came home. She froze at the sight of you clutching her vodka bottle that you always claimed to hate the taste of. You had grown numb to it recently. 

  Your girlfriend stepped towards you cautiously and crouched down as you registered her presence with the same far away look in your eyes she had seen in the hospital. She thought about it every day. “Y/n?” She asked as she gently grabbed the bottle but you yanked it out of her grasp and back towards your chest. “Don’t do that,” she muttered, heart cracking as she took in your unkempt appearance. How had she let you get like this? You grumbled incoherently in response. 

  “Come on, you need to throw up,” she coaxed, trying to keep her voice steady as she placed a hand on your arm but you shrugged her off. “Why won’t you let me help you?” She sighed, not expecting a response. 

  “Why do you want to?” You bite, eyes holding a harshness Natasha had never seen in you. 

  “Because I care about you, y/n,” she tried. “I love you and I want you to come back to me,” the redhead admitted with a crushing desperation. You loved her too, so much, but you were drunk and you were pissed off at the world. 

  “Is that it? Really?” You interrogated with an obnoxious slur to your speech. “It’s not because of any guilt you might be feeling?” Natasha frowned and backed away slightly as she stared down at you. “Tell me honestly.”

  “I wish I had been there-” She tried, no stranger to the guilt you were inflicting.

  “Why would that have mattered? They would have just seen you and tried again another time,” you told her as you grabbed at the kitchen counter behind you and hauled yourself up onto unstable feet. Natasha immediately sprang to catch you as you toppled.

  “Y/n-”

  “Don’t touch me!” You screamed as you gripped the counter with a steel force and glared at the woman desperately trying to help you. “I can’t look at you without seeing them.” You muttered though the words were etched into Natasha. She unknowingly held her breath as she processed what you had just said and realised she had finally gotten her answer as to why you were so distant. “Leave,” you spat.

  “What?” The redhead felt her legs become numb.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t continue to be a target,” you told her as your fear creeped into your drunken resentment and it all came to the surface unceremoniously. 

  “What do you mean?” She whispered despite already knowing.

  “It’s your fault. They took me to get to you and you didn’t even come and save me,” you told her, tears streaming down your face that your girlfriend so desperately wanted to wipe away as she held you. 

  “I tried, I tried so hard,” Natasha told you as her voice shook as much as her hands that she fought to keep by her sides. “I did everything I could and-”

  “And in the end they just gave me back. What if the next ones don’t feel so generous?” You questioned, unrelenting in your pain you were pushing onto your partner in an effort to escape it yourself.

  “We’ll figure something out, I’ll teach you self defence,” she tried but you didn’t want to hear it. 

  “I thought I was going to die…and I wish I did.” Natasha stared at you through the blur of tears, knowing that you were drunk but that it didn't mean you didn’t mean it. In fact, it made undeniable sense. “I would rather be laying dead in that room right now than have endured a second of what they did.” You told her honestly. “So get out.”

  “Y/n-” The attempt was futile. 

  “Get out!” You broke, unable to handle any more. There was no going back on what you had said and there was no undoing the past. You were done and too exhausted to see it any other way. 

  “I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered as she stepped away in defeat. You wouldn’t listen to reason, not from her.

  “Sorry doesn’t fix what you’ve done.”

[dawnoftime22]

i don't know.

| N.R

Warnings: long windup to a mental breakdown, loss of breathing, numbing day, vent fic, maybe some bad writing here and there? r loves waffles

Summary: When everything, such as emotions, ends up building away a little too much, the days start to blur together until you soon break. But Nat was there every part of the way.

Word Count: 3k

Category: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort(?)

A/N: hi my darlings :] its a new year and I just wanted to say I love you all and I am so so proud of you for just being here. you are not alone in whatever you're facing. things are hard sometimes and this was hard to write but you make me smile when I see you in my notifs <3 hugs to all of you, you're doing amazing

I hope this fic brings you comfort as it did for me

| Started on 12/11/2023, 7:29 AM |

| Finished on 08/01/2024, 2:05 PM |

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

"my love. listen to me. breathe, let go, and focus on you and your surroundings. you're safe."

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It was yet another day. Another tiring day. You haven't gone through it yet, but you sure didn't get much rest even though you've slept.

You sigh, and turn your back on the bed. Nat was sleeping beside you, but you were too caught up in zoning out to move closer to her. And you didn't want to wake her yet.

Nothing has even happened today and still, you can't bare to think about anything. Perhaps all your emotions are catching up, and at that thought, you turn your face into the pillow.

Another few minutes pass by with you staring at the ceiling, turning until your leg and arm was dangling off the side of the bed, or face down on your pillow. It didn't take long for your temptation to shuffle closer to Nat to take over though.

You slowly put your arms around her and snuggle closer to her, taking comfort in the warmth of her body. With her being a light sleeper though, she starts to stir awake. Her eyes open and her arms move to hold yours.

"Morning, любовь (love)." She whispered, her voice raspy, but her words filling the room and your heart with warmth with even the smallest way. Maybe this day won't be so bad...Maybe this day won't be so bad.

She turns in your embrace and looks at you with gentle half-lidded eyes, her nose brushing against yours ever so slightly with the fact that you were face-to-face. She could see it in your eyes already, something was off. She moves herself up to leave the softest kiss on your forehead. You could've broken there already, but you didn't. You didn't.

You rest your head against her chest, a small pout making its way to your face. She runs her hand through your hair and holds you for a few more minutes, the both of your breathing being able to be heard as if on whispering volume, but it was there, and gentle.

Soon she pulls away, dragging herself up to a more sitting position, leaving you beside her stomach level. You assume she was about to get up to do her morning routine, and you were about to prepare to pull her back to bed.

"What do you want for breakfast?" She asks, and the question almost made you confused, because you were expecting she would go for her morning run, but it seems, she wants to do something else.

With the simple question, you manage to make up an answer. Although it did take you a few minutes, with your jumbled up mind.

"Waffles." She smiles, having heard that answer several times. Nat gently nudges you to move you to the pillow instead, and goes to get up from the bed.

"Wait," you say suddenly, capturing her arm before it could be out of your reach. She turns back to you, a gentle and curious look upon her face.

"Are you staying?" You ask, your voice being nothing more than a whisper. But the little shakiness it holds doesn't pass by her ears.

"Of course I am." It was a rather simple answer. But the touch of her hand against yours and her eyes meeting yours was more than enough of a promise.

She gives you a small smile before going into the bathroom with her towel, the shower soon being an occuring noise coming from the bathroom.

Your eyes glide over to the window, the view being buildings and the sky filled with fluffy clouds. Your mind strayed. The running water was the only other thing you could focus on.

When Nat came out, she was wrapped into a towel. You pull the covers closer to yourself and curl up under them, feeling colder from just the gusts of wind the ceiling fan is making. Were you only sick and gathering a fever? No. No, that wasn't it.

You turn to look back at Nat, and she was fully clothed already. You watch her walk towards the bed, reaching out her arm to put the back of her hand against your forehead. It wasn't warm. She must know something is up already.

"Shower, okay? Or, you won't get any waffles." She says, her fingers moving a stray hair out of your face, but looking at you with raised eyebrows.

"Is that a threat?" You finally give her the smallest raise on the corners of your lips, and it took everything in her not to cheer.

"Yes, it is!" She said jokingly, her voice further away now that she went out the door, but the volume made it so that the words reached your ears. You shake your head, the sound of her voice being the most adorable thing to you.

You lay your back against the bed once more, staring up at the moving ceiling fan. Today is going to be a long day.

Some movement could be seen in the corner of your eye, and you almost thought Nat was back already, but then when you look, you only see a black furry animal coming to visit you.

Liho jumps up on the bed, and stares at you with her yellow eyes. The cat walks closer, and you go to pet it, the soft fur precious against your gentle hands.

It's cold nose touches you, and at it, you smile. You had forgotten cats had cold noses. Liho steps back a bit, and you tilt your head, wondering about her next move.

She leaped to the other side of the bed, going above your legs to reach to where Nat usually lays, and meows at you.

With your head and eyes following her movement, it soon went up to where the bathroom is. You blink at it for a second or two, making up decisions in your head.

Soon enough, you willed yourself out of bed by slowly going to a sitting position, to letting your legs dangle at the side of the bed, and finally, with hesitancy, getting up.

You were about to go search the closet for an outfit to wear, but then you see at the edge of the bed, a folded hoodie and your favorite sweatpants prepared already, by perhaps, Nat.

Your heart warmed at the caring gesture she did. With the more courage, you make your way to the bathroom to take a warm shower, hoping that the day will only get better.

When you got back out, the fluffy towel kept you feeling cozy, and you got your clothes on. By the time you look to the door and walk to the kitchen, Nat was sitting at the kitchen island, ready with two plates of waffles.

She glances up and sees you, a soft smile present on her face. What got you so lucky to have someone like her? You sit down in front of her, and enjoy the waffles she prepared, the soft texture of your hoodie giving as much comfort as the warmth of the waffle soon going in your mouth.

The rest of the day then consisted of you being unable to focus on anything. You couldn't read, and you couldn't do your hobbies without straying off to doing something else such as staring off into space or just laying on the couch or bed doing nothing.

You yawn, for the tenth time the past hour. But you weren't sleepy. Gosh, you were tired though. Nat was beside you on the couch, working on something on her laptop while you scrolled endlessly on your phone.

Her eyes go over to you, before flickering back to her laptop, her hands then moving to turn it off and close it. She turns her head to you, and the attention you feel from the side has you looking away from your phone and instead, at her.

"Do you wanna sit down outside? The sun's going down." She tilts her head towards the door, then goes to glance at the window in the living room, it having a view of the sky slowly changing color.

Your eyes had a certain shine on them when they laid upon the window, the colors and the way the sunlight does a shape of the window somewhere on the floor finally captured an attention of your auto-pilot mind. You nod at Nat's question, a quiet "Yeah," making out of you.

"Look," you say, just as Nat was about to get up from the couch. She looks down and was just as entranced as you were at the scenery in front of her.

"You should take a photo." She encourages you with a small smile and stands up. You take out your phone and find a perfect angle to grab a picture. Also making sure the exposure is on the perfect level.

"I'll make us hot chocolate, yeah? You can go out first so you don't miss the first few minutes." Nat says, going to the kitchen. Liho enters the scene, and lays down on the carpet just next to where it seeped in the sun, and you just had to take another picture.

After you were satisfied, you push yourself up with your hands and make your way to the door, slowly opening it and going out, leaving it open just a crack so Nat could come outside easier.

A golden sunset spreads throughout the place. The sun paints the sky a lovely shade of orange mixed with light blue, and a tinge of pink. You admire how smooth the gradient is.

The wooden texture of the floor makes itself known on your hands as you shuffled to rest your back against the wall of the house, but you slide your hands into your pockets comfortably.

The door opens, and Nat comes outside with two fresh mugs of hot chocolate. One being coffee though, for herself. She was quick. In your peripheral vision, you could see her sitting next to you on the porch, and hand you one mug.

You turn your head to look at her, and you reach up with one of your hands that held you up to grab the hot chocolate. The warmth made itself comfortable in your hands as you clasped it lightly to not burn yourself, but making sure your grip wasn't too loose.

You take a deep breath in, and let it out as a long sigh, not meaning to do it so audibly. Natasha takes notice of this, and her eyes drift from the view of the sunset, over to you, seeing just how lost in your head you were.

"Are you okay детка (baby)?" She starts gently with a simple question. She knows today was one of those days.

"I don't know," you say. It was honest. You don't know what you've felt for a while, but it was certainly gnawing at you for something. Some kind of release. You just didn't have time or energy to in the past few days.

"You've been off the entire day." She adds, her voice laced with concern, but no judgement. She put her mug to the side after another sip, her focus all on you while you tried to keep yours on the sunset.

"I just wanna stay home right now," you whisper. It's not that she was about to ask you if you wanted to go out, but rather, just the fact that you felt comfortable and safe at the moment. This is home. She's your home.

Nat's eyes roam your face, searching for all the thoughts you're thinking. But she couldn't really read your face. Perhaps because, you didn't know what you were feeling either. Sad? Mad? Stressed? Anxious? So many feelings available to name, but all you felt was a sense of heaviness.

"...I feel like falling apart anytime." that was the only other thing you could say. Your voice quiet, so quiet she could only hear it because she was right beside you.

It clicks in for Nat, and she understands fully. She's done it herself, countless times. And you were there nearly every single time. Feelings being kept and slowly overflowing, until everything in the past few months catch up.

You tried everything within you not to. You tried. But it's not possible with how much you've already tried avoiding your emotions. The birds chirped and flew off home while the sun sank down.

Nat hears a small sniffle and a quiet but sharp intake of a breath coming from you, until another slightly louder sniffle comes out, and you turn your head to face her. She sees your eyes glistening with tears, and she takes in her own breath to not cry herself. To see you in such a state left a crack in her heart.

Her arms instinctively goes to pull you closer and hold you, and that was when you broke. You hid in her neck and sobbed in her embrace, your tears staining her shirt.

It was unusual, but not the first time you've broken down like this. Nat was still getting used to saying assuring words, but she thinks about all the things you've said to her before, and tries her best to use it in her own ways.

She gently runs her fingers through your hair, holding you safely. She could feel your body shaking, and your chest going up in hiccups from your breathing between your sobs.

"Oh, солнышко (sunshine)." She whispers softly, so softly. The sounds of your cries made her frown. She knows you can hold too many things in sometimes, but this was...heartbreaking.

Your fingers were gripping her shirt, afraid that perhaps, she'd disappear. But you can hear her heart beating, being so near to her chest while you were at her neck.

When she hears you taking too many, far too many breaths, she knows she has to step in. She leans back a little to see you, and you look up at her with your tear filled eyes.

"Look at me...follow my breathing, alright? I don't want you to lose it." She says, her head moving with her movement, but her voice was gentle, yet firm enough for you to keep a focus on her.

She takes a deep breath in from her nose and lets it out from her mouth, encouraging you follow. You eventually manage to do it, after a bunch of hiccups, and slowly regain your normal breathing. Nat nods slightly, her hands moving up to move your hair back, showing more of your face and hoping it makes breathing easier for you, giving you space.

"Take your time, дорогой (darling)." Her eyes move back to yours, the green in her pupils holding the look of a forest. A peaceful one.

"There you go." She quietly said, leaning in to rest her forehead against yours, the touch comforting you. She gives you a small reassuring smile before going up and laying a kiss on your forehead.

"You'll be okay." Your teeth catches your lip as you look at her, and she can tell there were thoughts racing in your head. She runs her thumb lightly on your lips, making you let go of it.

Once again, a black furry cat enters your vision, and it goes in between you and Nat, making the both of you look down for a moment.

You, with your cheeks stained with your tears, Liho walks up to you and rubs her head and body against yours, the gesture making your heart melt.

A teary laugh comes from you, and you reach out to touch it, the soft fur going against your hand. Liho, too, was concerned it seems, from how long you've been sitting outside, but also moves to go to Nat, checking on her too.

The redhead picks the cat up, petting it for a few seconds before setting it aside. Liho sits down, watching the two of you before her attention went to the streetlights turning on. You two stare at her for a bit until your eyes meet each other once more.

She shuffles closer to you once again and you rest your head against her shoulder, the heaviness in your own shoulders and heart having faded away in the mental breakdown. You felt steadier again, just a little more.

"I love you, okay?" She whispered, her eyes on the wooden floor the porch held, but her focus being all on you.

"I love you, too. So much." You couldn't be more grateful for her. She would always be there for you, whether it be through the hard times or the light and happier times.

Liho turns back to you two and goes to lay down between your bodies. The cat always managed to find a way to come in the right times, too.

With every small step you've taken before, you knew you've come this far not to just stop. Even when it's hard. But even so, you shouldn't always hold yourself too strong. Emotions are complicated. That's just how it is, but letting go could always be a relief.

Here you were in the moment, breathing and living with your heart beating lively in your chest. The gentle touch of Nat's fingers brings you back to reality.

Everything was going to be okay.

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