please-destroy

[please-destroy]

Jurassic Heart

Natasha Romanoff x Clumsy!Dork!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

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‘You’re allowed to look.’ The beautiful red-headed woman told you with an obvious grin. You didn’t dare, keeping your gaze firmly at eye level and flushing obviously with embarrassment.

‘No, really.’ The woman insisted lightly. Her teasing tone made you certain that she’d caught your lingering stares from across the room. 

‘I just think your costume is really cool.’ You told her embarrassedly, trying to swerve the implication that you’d been looking at her breasts. 

‘Not as cool as yours.’ She leaned forward so you could hear her over the thrum of music. Her finger tapped the side of your wrist. Her touch made your skin tingle.

‘I’m Natasha.’ She called out and her head tilted invitingly. The small braid woven into her long hair caught your eye.

‘(Y/N)’ You replied with a nervous smile. 

‘How did you end up here?’ Natasha raised her eyebrow like she knew it would be a good story. You swallowed nervously, aware of how out of place you seemed at a party like this. 

‘I’m just an intern.’ You told her, trying to rub the back of your neck and hitting yourself with the spiky wing that was part of your costume. You winced in surprise and Natasha’s lips twitched with a small smile.

‘You’re cute.’ Natasha determined and her finger tapped the side of your wrist again. Your cheeks suddenly felt unbearably warm. You hadn’t expected her to flirt. 

‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.’ You replied unthinkingly. Your eyes widened with momentary panic as you heard the truth fall from your mouth.

Natasha’s teasing smirk faded as she registered your words. Her head tilted curiously. Your gazes tangled up for a moment and you tried to take a mental picture of the colour of her eyes. 

After a moment, Natasha's touch trailed down your wrist as she went to take your hand instead.

‘Let’s get a drink.’ She decided, leading you over to the bar. 

.

The bartender, dressed as someone from the stone age, couldn’t stop staring at the front of Natasha’s costume either. 

‘I like your, uh, little arms.’ She told Natasha with an overfriendly smile as she made up her cocktail.

‘I bet you do.’ Natasha replied with polite but clear disinterest.

You felt her thumb draw patterns on the back of your hand. Your stomach flipped.

Don’t screw this up. Your mind warned you immediately.

You pushed the thought away, you didn’t have a clue what you were doing anyway. 

You accepted a drink from Natasha gratefully. 

You raised the glass to your mouth and watched Natasha bite an olive from a cocktail stick in her martini. You faltered and wondered if you were having a fever dream.

‘Uh.’ You tried to start a conversation. You tried to think of something to say that wasn’t ‘Lips’, ‘Natasha’ or most embarrassingly ‘Bite Me.’

‘Our costumes match pretty well.’ Natasha looked you up and down thoughtfully, mercifully ignoring your awkwardness. 

You remembered how to function and nodded as you sipped your drink.

‘I wasn’t sure what the ‘Historic Moment’ theme meant on the invitation.’ You murmured, voice lowering automatically now that you were standing together at the quieter edge of the bar.

Natasha glanced over at the crowd on the dance-floor. You followed her gaze, scanning a sea of people wearing the sexiest outfits imaginable that could barely be called vintage.

You looked back at Natasha, taking the opportunity of her distraction to glance down again at the front of her dress. 

Unlike your own, Natasha’s costume couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to assemble. 

All she’d done was tape two tiny T-Rex arms to the bustiest part of her green dress. 

You’d both come dressed as dinosaurs, but you knew for certain that your own homemade pterodactyl contraption was not attracting the same appreciative glances as Natasha’s.

You’d stared at her chest, deep in thought. When you looked back up, Natasha was waiting patiently for your attention. 

‘Oh no.’ You mumbled, moving to hide your face with your hands. You forgot about the attached string pulley system again. You smacked yourself in the face with your own pterodactyl wings. 

You fought the tears that sprung in your eyes at the surprise hit. The wing looked absurdly soft but there were still metal coat hangers underneath the fabric.

You screwed it up. Your mind whispered.

You stared up at the assortment of loose balloons that bobbed against the ceiling. You tried to recollect yourself. You wished desperately you hadn’t worn such a lame costume. 

You jumped when Natasha’s hand touched your cheek. She hummed gently as her thumb brushed your skin.

‘That looked sore.’ She murmured, her eyes catching yours. There was a heartbeat. You felt the steady thump of the loud music through your feet. 

You noted absentmindedly that Natasha’s eyes were a much prettier green than her costume. You realised you could barely remember your own name when she looked at you. 

Natasha moved closer. Her lips brushed your cheek and shivers went through you. Her hand slid along your waist, just under the hem of your costume.

You breathed out slowly as her lips left your cheek. Natasha gave you a careful smile, assessing your reaction silently. Her hand didn’t leave your waist.

‘Come and meet my friends?’ She offered, her fingers drumming a soft pattern against your body. 

You started to nod, before you hesitated.

‘My costume.’ You mumbled. ‘I should take it off.’

Natasha smirked. 

‘Maybe later.’ She told you and it sounded like a promise. 

.

You let her lead you down some stairs and around the side of the large dance floor. You didn’t realise that you were in the VIP section until you saw Tony Stark approaching you.

His eyes scanned across Natasha’s costume, lingering obviously on the tiny T-Rex arms. Then, he glanced at yours.

‘Glad someone got the right idea.’ He declared, gesturing down at his own Freddie Flintstone costume. ‘I thought Out of Time was self explanatory. But it looks like a slutty ABBA reunion out there.’

His eyes flickered over your costume again. 

‘You work for me?’ He asked neutrally. You nodded, gulping automatically at his tone. You suddenly imagined having to tell people that you’d been fired because you pretended to be a dinosaur at your boss’ party.

‘Good.’ He said abruptly. ‘That wing mechanism is fantastic.’

Natasha’s hand slid easily out of yours as Tony moved to introduce you to his friend. You gave her a helpless look. Natasha gave you a small wave, eyes twinkling.

You watched her attention flicker to a group of women in the corner and she wandered over with a familiarity that told you they were good friends.

Captain Rhodes was deeply impressed by the wings on your back and the unnecessary features that you’d added to them just for fun. He murmured something distractedly about military tech and then went to get another man. Before long, there were several people asking you questions about the home-made contraption. You tried not to seem nervous, sipping your drink and pretending like any of this was normal. 

A server wandered past the group and Tony grabbed two drinks from the tray. Calmly, he offered you another glass of the same drink that you’d just finished. Then he started asking you about your internship and the other projects that you’d been working on. You stumbled over your words as you tried to explain how much the 6 month opportunity meant to you.

You tried to ignore the voice in your head worrying that you were screwing it all up again. 

Tony stayed silent as you talked. It made your ramble feel even more out of control.

.

‘Tomorrow is a new day.’ He declared when you finally lapsed into silence. ‘Actually.’ He corrected himself dryly. ‘It’s a New Year.’

You nodded unsurely.

‘Time for a new, permanent contract I think.’ He shared a conspiratorial look with the others in the group.

You followed his gaze, catching the approving nod of Captain Rhodes.

A sudden rush of pride for your silly costume filled you. Your cheeks hurt trying not to smile too wide as you realised that you’d just been hired by Tony Stark personally.

Something about your rush of happiness turned your gaze back to Natasha like a magnet. 

She was sitting alone on one of the small sofas to the side of the VIP area. She was already looking at you, her expression soft.

Without thinking, you directed your smile at her. 

Natasha smiled back brightly and you noticed the way it made her eyes crinkle. She nodded at the space next to her and you found yourself shrugging off the harness that held your wings and handing the contraption to Colonel Rhodes.

You walked over to Natasha, leaving Tony and the others to continue their discussion.

Natasha’s gaze wandered along your bare arms, exposed without the clunkiest part of your costume. As you sat down, her arm slipped easily around your side. She felt warm pressed against you. You found yourself leaning into her touch. 

‘Having a good time?’ She asked you, like she couldn't tell already. 

‘I think tonight has been better than my whole year.’ You told her seriously and Natasha laughed. You swallowed an overwhelmed feeling. Her laugh was quieter than you expected but you felt it vibrate through you. You wished you could replay the sound forever.

‘It’s only ten minutes until midnight.’ Natasha said suddenly a moment later. You heard the question behind her words. You looked at her curiously. 

You wondered how she’d ended up here at this party without someone to kiss at midnight. 

Natasha looked away self consciously and you realised she could see the question in your eyes. 

You reached out, letting your fingers brush her wrist. 

‘I’d like to kiss you.’ You told her honestly and Natasha gave you a shy smile. 

‘Now or at midnight?’ She teased and her hand brushed your knee.

You felt so grateful for Natasha already. 

‘Let’s make it special.’ You decided. 

Natasha’s head tilted and you realised that she hadn’t expected your answer.

You shrugged nervously.

‘You’re special.’ You mumbled, feeling all of a sudden too much like a teenager at prom.

Natasha hummed a sceptical sound and you knew her disagreement wasn't another tease. You paused unsurely.

‘So, how was your year?’ You asked carefully. 

Natasha glanced away then. Her arm moved away from you as she reached for her drink and took a casual sip.

‘There were ups and downs.’ She answered after a moment.

.

Her tone was light but it made your heart sting.

‘Maybe next year will be better.’ You said, as you moved your hand to find her free one.

Your fingers tangled loosely together and you gave a light squeeze. Natasha looked down at your hands but she didn’t speak.

After a moment, she bumped her shoulder with yours.

‘Do you know what’s gonna happen at midnight?’ You asked, gesturing over to the packed dance floor that was only becoming more crowded as the New Year approached.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

‘You know the ball drop in Times Square?’ She asked. ‘Tony’s going to drop his own version. Except this one will look more like a meteor falling from the sky.’

.

There are few points in your life where a decision is crucial. This was one of those times.

You stood up, tugging at Natasha’s hand as you did.

She looked up at you curiously.

‘Dinosaurs don’t do well with meteors.’ You told her seriously. 

Surprise flickered over Natasha’s face but she let you lead her away.

.

The stairs to the rooftop took several minutes to climb. 

You both gasped when you opened the last door and stepped into the freezing night. Natasha huddled close to you as you stood huddled together, watching the dial of your watch count down the last minute.

You started counting aloud when there were ten seconds left until midnight. You rubbed Natasha's bare arms gently, trying uselessly to protect her from the snow that had started to fall.

When your countdown reached 8, Natasha started counting with you. Her green eyes held yours intently. 

When you reached 5, Natasha licked her lower lip and you swallowed nervously.

As you both said 3, you tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Your fingers brushed her small braid. Your hand stayed by her face, cupping her cheek carefully. 

By the time you got to 2, you watched her nervous huff of breath like sudden fog in the cold air.

At 1, you leaned forward, and so did she.

As midnight arrived, you heard fireworks begin to pop across the city. You lost yourself in Natasha. You couldn't remember who you were before her lips had found yours.

Her fingers slipped into your hair as she encouraged you to kiss her again. She didn’t need to. You didn’t want to be anywhere else.

.

When you broke apart at last, there was a half beat where you weren’t sure what to do. 

‘Don’t laugh.’ Natasha told you seriously and you watched as she plucked the T-Rex arms from the front of her dress. You gave her a soft smile. You felt dazed, heavy with attraction and light with relief. 

In the first few seconds of the brand new year, you felt completely free.

You opened your arms when you realised Natasha’s intent. Natasha pressed herself against your chest and you wrapped your arms around her. The tip of her nose was ice cold when she buried it into the crook of your neck.

‘We’re the last two dinosaurs.’ She mumbled and her hot breath sent tingles down your spine.

‘We already survived the meteor.’ You smiled, arms tightening around her. 'It's going to be a good year.'

[please-destroy]

Afterglow

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 4k

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‘It’s nothing.’ Scarlett defended. Her hand dropped from her lower back. She stood straighter. You dropped your eyes to the floor at her tone, heat crawled up your neck.

It wasn’t nothing. 

You’d only been hired as her assistant a month ago, but you knew it wasn’t nothing.

.

You didn’t meet her in person until after you’d gotten the job. 

At your interview, conducted over zoom, Scarlett Johansson had explained her skin-care line would be launching before the end of the year. She’d detailed the lengthy list of job responsibilities with an edge to her voice. Even through the screen, you’d caught the challenge in the tilt of her chin. 

The unspoken dare. If it was too much for you, back out now.

You only smiled.

‘I’d love the opportunity.’ You told her sincerely.

Scarlett’s eyebrow raised. For a moment, you thought you saw a sparkle of humour in her eye. Then, the tension returned.

‘I’ll be in touch.’ She told you, ending the call before you could respond again.

The job contract, the NDA and the practicalities of relocating for your new job took two weeks. 

.

There was something Scarlett did not mention on the phone. 

You knocked on her door on the first day. 

You’d already been let through security checks at the gate. You knew you were expected.

Scarlett opened the door. 

You were anticipating her to be very tired, exhausted even. Scarlett was currently on a virtual press tour for her new movie. 

You were not expecting her to be so.

Pregnant.

Scarlett’s face was smooth, except for subtle lines of tension around her eyes. She waited, holding the door ajar, daring you to comment. 

You glanced at the cardboard boxes lining the hallway behind her. 

‘How can I help?’ You asked, feeling your senses come back to you. 

You followed Scarlett through to her own kitchen. Even walking behind her, you felt in awe. You savoured the moment out of her sight to let the shock of her pregnancy run through you.

No-one knew.

You’d been watching her press junket interviews for the past few days, calling it work prep. There had been no indication. No hint at all.

You tried to wipe your expression blank again when Scarlett next turned to face you. The same warning was written across her face. You let a belated congratulations die in your throat.

‘I have a busy day.’ She told you in a tight voice. ‘I have video interviews scheduled back to back.’

You gave a silent nod. Scarlett gestured to yet another taped cardboard box sitting on her kitchen counter. 

‘I need to move him out.’ She continued. 

You kept your face frozen. Colin Jost, your mind supplied helpfully. You’d been researching your boss, more work prep.

‘I need you to move him out.’ Scarlett corrected herself. She gave you an assessing look. Disappointment swirled in her eyes as she took in your stunned reaction.

You snapped back to the moment. 

‘Of course.’ You murmured, trying to calm your reeling mind. You moved over to the kitchen counter and the box.

Scarlett stepped away from your advance automatically, heading over to the door. 

The distrust in her body language trickled over you. You blushed in embarrassment.

‘The NDA.’ She reminded you bluntly, voice rasping. 

‘The iron clad one I signed?’ You asked, voice too innocent.

For a moment, a hint of humour sparkled in Scarlett’s eye. Exhaustion cut through it quickly. 

‘I’ll be back later.’ She told you evenly, before she left the room.

When she was gone, you nearly had a panic attack. 

Standing alone in her kitchen, staring at a box of her ex’s belongings. 

Scarlett Johansson was beautiful. You closed your eyes and knew she was embedded in your brain. 

It didn’t matter. 

The box was heavy as you lugged it through to sit with the others in the hallway. You walked through her house numbly, searching out more cardboard boxes. You avoided only the room that you could hear her laughing in. You found half a dozen more heavy boxes. 

Back breaking work on your first day should have been a red flag.

Still, you’d never had a pregnant boss before. You found yourself grateful that you’d been designated the task. You didn’t like to think of her doing it herself. 

You spent the next half hour pacing unsurely around the kitchen. At last, Scarlett came through at lunchtime. 

There was nothing subtle about her exhaustion or tension now. Her hair was tied back, it made her look drawn. 

A buildup of questions fell from your mouth before you could help it.

‘Can I get you something to eat? Who should I call about the boxes? Is there anything else I can do?’

Scarlett stared at you for a moment in the doorway. You watched her exhale in frustration. Alarm flared inside you.

‘I don’t have time for lunch. I have back to back interviews.’ She told you, voice simmering. ‘If it’s not in front of me right now, I don’t have time to eat it. I assumed that was clear.’

An apology caught in your throat as she unlocked and slid her phone across the now bare kitchen counter. 

‘He’s my last missed call.’ She told you bluntly. ‘Tell him to pick the boxes up.’

You nodded nervously, searching for the contact hurriedly. 

Scarlett moved to the fridge.

She stared at the contents with a kind of misery that told you how hungry she was.

Her expectation that you’d have known to prepare lunch was unreasonable, but you still felt awful.

‘I’m sorry.’ You squeaked out before she left again. 

Scarlett gave you a wry smile, it didn’t meet her eyes. 

‘I’m fat enough already.’ She shrugged, nodding down at the bump.

Your chest felt hollow with her joke, her final acknowledgement of the pregnancy. 

Colin Jost answered the call immediately. This was not surprising. There were fourteen missed calls from him on Scarlett’s phone. 

‘Scarlett.’ He sounded relieved. 

‘This is Scarlett’s assistant.’ You cut in immediately, not wanting there to be any confusion. 

You arranged for the boxes to be collected that afternoon by his own assistant. 

Impossibly, Colin had sounded tenser than Scarlett had. Guilt had dripped from his words and you didn’t want to imagine why.

.

You were dismissed when Scarlett next left her office. 

This time, you hovered at the foot of the stairs. Scarlett was notably ungainly as she walked down them, hand gripping the railing. 

Your heart caught in your mouth with a panicked premonition of her falling. Scarlett was very pregnant. Her centre of balance was clearly off. 

You moved to climb the stairs, ready to help before you could think it through. 

Scarlett froze midway down. 

Her eyes flashed dangerously at your presumption.

Cautiously, you backed down from the stairs.

‘My daughter will be home soon.’ She informed you, in the same blunt tone as earlier. ‘You can go now.’

You nodded silently, not admitting that you’d snuck a look at her schedule whilst her phone was unlocked. 

Scarlett gave a careful sigh then. You glanced up at her, still several steps above you on the staircase. 

‘I should have been more prepared for today.’ She admitted suddenly, shifting slightly with the discomfort of standing. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

‘Okay.’ You said simply, not sure where you stood at the end of your first day.

You left the house. You ignored curious texts from friends wondering about your new mysterious job. You ignored the fact that, all things considered, your new boss had not been fair to you at all.

Instead, you wished desperately that you’d been brave enough to insist on making her dinner.

That night in bed, you stared up at your ceiling, trying to imagine what the next day would bring.

The next morning, with not nearly enough sleep, you found out.

.

It did not take you long to become good at your job. If you were being honest, this was because you thought of little else.

Your job had two main parts. 

The things you were asked to do. 

The things you were not asked to do. 

You excelled at the first but you lived for the second.

Scarlett’s calendar was colour coded within the first week. You parsed through various scheduled appointments, altering as many as you could so they didn’t overlap with her time with her daughter. 

You didn’t expect recognition for it. You lived for the small smile Scarlett gave when she checked her phone and saw the afternoon clear yet again.

Her favourite lunch was chicken salad. Soon enough, you could’ve prepared it in your sleep. 

Scarlett never thanked you directly. 

You didn’t need her to. Her voice softened towards you. You thought about it at night. You thought about a lot of things you shouldn’t.

.

You never touched Scarlett. 

Not that you were expecting to. 

A flush crawled up your neck every morning just from looking at her. You couldn’t get used to being close to someone so beautiful.

But, you didn’t even touch Scarlett in passing. You brought her lunch up to her office every day. Every day, she would lean subtly away from you as you put the plate on her desk. 

You would hear her breath catch in discomfort. She radiated tension at your proximity.

You tried not to let it bother you. You hoped desperately that she couldn’t see your crush, even though it felt painted on your skin.

.

And then, one morning, Scarlett met you impatiently at the front door. Her hair was tied back neatly. You understood the visual clues immediately. She had a professional meeting scheduled soon. You remembered her talking about potential investors the day before.

‘I have a call this morning.’ Scarlett confirmed, matter of factly. ‘I’m already late and I need you to take notes.’ 

You nodded, eyes widening in surprise. This was not usual. Scarlett’s office door stayed shut for most of the day, and you didn’t disturb her when it was closed.

Scarlett turned to hurry up the stairs, making you immediately nervous. Your hand hovered secretly at the small of her back as you walked a half step behind her. 

She handed you a notebook when you reached her office. Her fingers dragged over the back of your hand. Scarlett went very still. You forgot to breathe. 

She turned back to her desk and you caught the pink flush to her cheeks.

Longing burned in the pit of your stomach. The back of your hand was seared with her fingerprints. 

When the call began, you sat to the side of her desk, just out of sight.

You realised quickly why Scarlett had implored you to sit in. Distracted didn’t cover it. She couldn’t sit still. You watched her fidget in her seat for thirty minutes, barely remembering to nod at the right moments. 

Your attention stayed on her as you wrote out your notes. 

Discomfort was to be expected. You tried to remind yourself that it was inevitable. Scarlett was only becoming more pregnant. 

You watched her subtle winces as she continued to readjust herself in the office chair. 

There was an inevitable date approaching that neither of you had discussed. Scarlett hadn’t confirmed a thing, but you were sure she had entered her third trimester now. 

The call ended at last. 

Scarlett’s focus turned to you immediately. 

‘I’m hungry.’ She informed you pointedly. Her words took you by surprise. She never acknowledged the meals you were preparing for her. She’d never commented about the dinners you’d begun to leave stacked in her fridge before you left.

‘Okay.’ You agreed, waiting for her to stand first. 

Scarlett looked back at you, impatiently. 

There was an awkward silence before you realised she wanted you to leave first. You exited quickly, staring at the floor in embarrassment.

.

It didn’t take long to prepare a snack in the kitchen. 

You focused on the task angrily, wishing you were brave enough to ask the questions that were burning inside you. 

You’d been in this job long enough now and still every conversation was stilted and formal. 

Scarlett was very cautious about what others could see. Nobody in her family even seemed to know she was pregnant. Or at least, no one was checking in. 

You could see the cracks in the cold facade of it all. The brief pain on her face when she rejected an incoming call. 

You wished you could see all of her, not just the cracks. 

The obvious discomfort you’d noticed today felt like the final straw.

.

Still, you watched her descend the stairs surreptitiously.

Every few steps, Scarlett paused and her eyes squeezed tight with pain. Once, she pressed her knuckles hard against the small of her back. 

You didn’t say anything when she entered the kitchen. 

Her eyes were determined, the challenge in the tilt of her chin always present. Her hands were carefully at her sides. She walked straighter than ever. 

You didn’t move away from the counter, blocking her path to the plate you’d prepared.

You tilted your chin in an imitation of her own expression. Irritation crossed Scarlett’s face as she met your gaze. After a moment, her hand moved subtly to press against the small of her back again. 

‘How can I help?’ You asked, quietly but firmly. Scarlett startled at your question.

You looked pointedly down at her hand.

‘It’s nothing.’ Scarlett defended.  Her hand dropped from her lower back. She stood straighter. You dropped your eyes to the floor at her tone, heat crawled up your neck.

It wasn’t nothing. 

You were getting sick of this. Renewed strength brought your eyes back up to meet hers. 

‘How can I help?’ You repeated your words to her calmly. You tilted your chin again in defiance, it was more demand than question.

You stared at each other for a long time.

Scarlett’s attention flitted to the snack that you’d prepared. Suddenly, it was her who was looking down at the ground.

You watched as the cracked pieces of her broke entirely. 

She stretched her hand out, leaning against the counter and relieving the pressure on her back.

‘Please.’ She whispered, admitting everything. 

You stepped forward. Your hand touched her back gently, unsurely. Scarlett’s breath hitched.

‘Lower.’ She whispered, something almost humiliated in her tone. 

You moved your hand obediently.

Scarlett moaned between clenched teeth when you found the spot.

Slowly, but surely, you pressed the heel of your hand against her back. 

Scarlett gave a strangled whimper, leaning automatically into your touch. You moved the pressure in a slow circle, trying to ease out the pain. 

Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand, muffling the noise. Her eyes were closed, but you saw a tear slip down her cheek.

When Scarlett turned around a few minutes later, she did not look like the woman you’d been working for. 

Defeat tangled with embarrassment in her expression. 

You watched her unsurely, not knowing what to say. 

Her voice cracked. 

‘I’m just so tired.’ She admitted, purposefully avoiding your stare.

.

Touching her now was easier. 

You took her hand, soft and warm in yours. It felt perfectly weighted. Gently, you led her to the sofa. 

Scarlett had never sat on it. Not whilst you were here. She gripped your arm suddenly as she lowered herself carefully down onto it. Shame tinted her cheeks pink. You understood abruptly that she would need a hand up from it too. 

Annoyance flared at her relentless stubbornness.

Scarlett exhaled shakily at the relief of a comfortable seat.

She looked over and caught the frustration written across your expression.

‘Y/N’ She murmured lowly, uncertainly. A shiver went down your spine at the way she said your name. 

‘You’re still hungry.’ You said quietly, getting back to your feet. Scarlett’s face burned with embarrassment as she watched you leave. 

When you returned, she was sitting as straight as she could on the soft sofa. Despite your frustration, it made your lips quirk upwards. 

You placed her plate down on the coffee table. 

You didn’t speak as she ate. Instead, you played nervously with your fingers. You tried to find the right words. 

You waited until you heard the plate thud back against the table. 

‘I want to take care of you.’ You whispered at last, staring at your hands. ‘I know it’s my job. But, I want to do it too.’ 

Scarlett didn’t speak. Your strange confession hung in the space between you.

Your skin tingled and your heart jumped erratically in your chest. You took a chance, glancing over at her. Scarlett’s eyes closed for a brief moment. You recognised the expression on her face. She was also trying to find the right words.

‘It always.’ She started unsurely. ‘It always goes wrong.’

Your head tilted in confusion. Scarlett gave a sad smile. 

You looked down at her belly and she followed your gaze. 

‘I’m sick of being disappointed.’ Scarlett’s voice caught, tangling with a raw pain. Her hand curved across her front. The action was stilted, as if her stomach was still unfamiliar to her. 

‘But, it’s me.’ She whispered, voice cracking open now. Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling, and you watched them fill with tears. ‘It’s always my fault.’

You wanted to help. An ache rippled through you.

You touched her leg. Scarlett froze.

She caught your gaze, and your intention too. 

She shook her head suddenly, you saw the tears slip down her cheeks.

‘Don’t pretend.’ She whispered now, almost begging. ‘Just, please, don’t pretend to care.’

‘I don’t know how.’ You murmured.

You leaned closer, giving yourself up to the want of her. 

Her lips were fuller than you expected. You could taste the salt on them.

Scarlett’s fingers were shaky as she touched the nape of your neck. 

Shivers rippled down your spine.

You kissed her harder and she responded in kind. 

Scarlett’s fingers tangled in your hair now. Her grip was sudden and tight. You felt her desperation in the curl of her fingers.

Blindly, you searched for her other hand, resting at her side. Already, the warmth of it was familiar. You held it tightly in yours, Scarlett exhaled slowly.

You leaned back to look at her. The flush of her cheeks doused you with affection and arousal. 

‘Scarlett.’ You said unthinkingly, enjoying the sound of her name on your tongue. 

She didn’t look up at her name, still focused on your lips. 

‘You’re perfect.’ She murmured, trailing a finger along your cheek and down the side of your neck. You wondered if she could feel your jumping pulse. ‘You’re not going to stay.’ 

Anger flared through you now. Indignity at being judged by other people’s mistakes.

You moved to kiss her collarbone harshly. Your teeth stung her skin as you nipped and sucked. Scarlett moaned into your ear. She fidgeted on the sofa as you left wet marks across her exposed skin. She grabbed at the sofa cushion to the side of her. 

‘I just want to help.’ You murmured determinedly, planting one last kiss just below her ear. Scarlett whined, her head tilting back.

You moved to kneel on the floor. 

You settled between her legs, fingers tugging down her pants. Everything felt predetermined. Maybe because you’d dreamed it. Maybe because it was always going to happen.

You looked up at her as you spread her legs. Scarlett was looking down at you, her pupils had dilated entirely. Everything felt right. You had wanted to be here for so long. 

You dragged your nails up her bare thighs. 

‘Thank you.’ Scarlett rasped and your heart clenched at the strange insecurity of it. You wanted to be here, you didn’t know how to tell her again.

Instead, you licked along her cunt. You could taste her already, coating your tongue. Scarlett couldn’t reach you from around her stomach. Your eyes flitted up to see her nails digging into the sofa cushion. Her head tilted back against the sofa, eyes closing.

She mumbled something quietly to herself. Annoyance continued to flicker inside you. You wanted to hear her.

You pressed your tongue hard against her clit and made her scream instead. 

When you were done. When she’d fidgeted against your wandering tongue. When you could taste the sweet tang of her in your mouth. When you would never think of anything else ever again. When she was trembling. You looked back up at her.

Scarlett’s hair was mussed, her mouth was parted as she panted. 

Scarlett was undone. 

You kissed her clit lightly, giving her one last aftershock before you slid her pants back up her legs. She acquiesced limply, still not quite in the room.

You sat beside her on the sofa, enjoying the weird domesticity of her afterglow. You rested your head against her shoulder feeling her chest move with each ragged breath. 

Your heart was still pounding beneath your ribs, trying to adjust to the new way the world was hung.

After a minute, you felt Scarlett tense again. You knew she was going to speak. 

‘What now?’ She asked bluntly, words purposefully calm. You lifted your head and read the challenge in the tilt of her chin. You knew instinctively that she was daring you to leave, readying herself for it even now. A strange, soft affection built in your chest. You realised that you would always win her dares.

You took her hand in yours. You weaved your fingers together and held tight. The warmth of her skin trickled inside you. 

You didn’t speak. Neither did she. 

You watched her thumb rub circles against your knuckles, enraptured.

.

(Some time later)

.

‘It won’t stop.’ Scarlett looked down at her phone cradled in her lap. Her voice was tight.

The phone buzzed in her hand, over and over as the news stories rolled in. You sat next to her, on the edge of her bed. You touched her very rounded stomach, still covered by the dress she’d worn to the earlier meeting. 

Even now, you found yourself hesitant to touch her, for so long she’d been your boss. 

Scarlett gave you a searing look. You weren’t sure if she regretted it. The public announcement of you. The personal assistant turned girlfriend. The implications for her, her sexuality, her career, her expected child. 

Her phone kept buzzing as more implications rolled in. You watched the headlines appear on the screen, one after another.

You watched Scarlett’s forehead crease with worry. Your stomach clenched, the moment felt unbearable.

You touched her shoulder, your fingers slipping under her sleeve. Her skin was warm. Scarlett’s breath caught. 

‘You’re all I think about.’ You told her, letting your mind cloud with familiar want. 

Scarlett’s lips parted. She watched you, something still unsure in her eyes. You scratched her skin lightly. Her eyes closed.

Her phone slipped in her grip and the buzzing became louder. Her gaze returned to it.

‘I can’t ignore everyone. It’s not polite.’ She snapped suddenly. 

With confidence you rarely had, you moved to stand in front of her. You pulled at the phone in her grip, Scarlett released it with unexpected obedience. Maybe she could see your mood better than you could feel it. 

You let the constant tug between your souls pull you forward. You leaned down, letting your lips find each other. You pressed yourself against her front, feeling her bump brush against you. 

The air was thick with anticipation. You slipped the vibrating phone beneath the skirt of her dress.

‘I have no interest in being polite or heterosexual.’ You whispered against her ear. Scarlett gave a soft cry and her hand twisted the fabric of your shirt.

You pressed the phone higher, letting it sit against the familiar cotton of her underwear. Scarlett moaned. She gripped your shoulder with sudden fierceness, holding you in place. 

You moved your fingers over the elastic of her panties, desperate to feel her. The vibrating phone stayed cradled against your palm, pressed to her.

Scarlett was slick against your skin. She started to whine, her neck falling back as she held you tighter. You kissed her neck, letting your teeth graze her skin.

Your fingers moved inside her with every vibration, Scarlett jolted against you. Her eyes were screwed tight, her cheeks flushed. She called your name, over and over. 

Her walls tightened around you at last and she screamed into the room. 

In the moments after, she lay back against the bed. You slid the dress up to kiss her exposed stomach. Scarlett’s breathing was still heavy as she reached for your hand, slipping her fingers between your wet ones. 

You kissed damp cotton and whispered a secret there, just to make her body twitch.

[please-destroy]

Request for Requests

Hello, I’m looking to do a mini writing challenge in January. 

I’d be really grateful if anyone had any requests they’d like to submit for it here: @historyofstoriesendingsadly

There's more info in the pinned post on that blog.

[please-destroy]

No Matter What

Pregnant!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

.

You hadn’t been given enough time. You lay flat to the ground as the explosions around you continued with an unrelenting pace.

You couldn’t move. The hot trickle of blood running down your calf told you enough. You’d been watching the thick white cloud of gas roll slowly towards you, and now it was here.

You could feel the cool moisture as it cloaked your bare ankles, beginning to envelope you.

You continued trying to inch your phone out of your pocket, twisting yourself awkwardly with the action. 

The part of you that was still clinging to hope needed her desperately. All you wanted was to hear Wanda’s voice telling you it would be okay. 

You couldn’t let yourself think about the baby. You didn’t think losing your future would hurt like this. You didn’t expect to feel such grief when you were the one dying.

It felt like fingernails raking along your throat when you choked on the realisation that you’d never see the baby. You’d never know if they really did have Wanda’s eyes. Your chest went tight with the hope that they did. 

You brought your phone level to your face, wincing at the brightness. 

One text, Wanda.

‘Stay safe, check in when you can, we miss you.’

You dropped the phone and closed your eyes. The clouded air smelled sweet, you could taste aniseed. You couldn’t call her, you were out of time.

You hoped the baby had Wanda’s smile too. Selfishly, now, you hoped that little pieces of you would be in there too. That people would still talk about you. You didn’t want to be another ghost, another unspeakable shadow that haunted the corner of Wanda’s eye.

You slipped into delirium a moment later and unconsciousness a minute after that.

.

You had plenty to live for, but when you heard your name being called you still didn’t want to wake up.

Your eyes shuttered open and you gasped out a breath like it was your first. You’d been moved, the gas was gone, the air seemed clean.

It took a moment to recognise the inside of the helicarrier. Even longer to understand it was Natasha who was underneath the industrial gas mask. 

You lost control of your panic, hyperventilating at the shock of her appearance. The rattling sound of her gas mask filtering the air was unsettling. It also meant there was still danger. Your hand went to your throat in confusion. Why weren’t you wearing one too?

‘You’ve been infected.’ Natasha called, staying carefully away from you in the med bay. ‘We think it's hallucinogenic, your pupils are blown wide.’

As if Natasha's words were a premonition, the world around her started to tilt. The edges of her figure started to blur and merge with the background. You tried not to fall back on the stretcher as the dizziness hit.

‘Wanda.’ You huffed out, fighting against the heaviness dragging you back under. You tried to find Natasha’s eyes behind the dark tinted glass of the helmet. Tears pricked your eyes, you could feel yourself slipping away. You were out of time again.

You felt a hand grip your arm at the last moment.

‘No matter what.’ Natasha’s voice assured you. It was the promise she’d made you a long time ago, Wanda would always be kept safe.

.

The next time you woke up, you were in a small room. The walls were concrete, the floor was concrete, the door was metal. 

You crawled to the corner, trying to remember if you’d been captured. Your mind felt heavy, thoughts blurring together.

Then, you heard her. 

A high pitched scream slid through the crack under the door, you flew against the wall at the shock of the sudden noise.

You lurched forward as you recognised it, stumbling to your feet. Your hands found the door handle. 

The scream came again, louder this time.

‘Wanda.’ You cried out, trying desperately at the door. It wouldn’t budge. Her screams sounded mangled now, choking off into sobs. 

Where was she? What were they doing to her?

You remembered nothing else as you slammed your shoulder against the door, shouting out your wife’s name.

The screams got louder and consequent images flashed through your mind. They were torturing her. The worst thoughts filled your mind. You were sure you could smell blood. Wanda must be close. You shouted again, slamming yourself desperately into the door.

Then, Wanda screamed your name and something inside you stopped responding. A feral panic made you more animal than human. 

You were going to have to get through concrete. Your fingernails scraped down the walls, the only thought driving you was that Wanda was on the other side. She wouldn’t stop screaming.

The disorientation was overwhelming, you lost yourself completely in the haze of her ceaseless screams.

Eventually you came to, seeing the bloody tracks already scraped into the wall. You knew it must have been you, but you couldn’t remember.

.

Natasha’s voice echoed suddenly into the room. Your head spun as you sought her out wildly. The room was still empty.

‘Wanda.’ You choked out, tears immediately flooding your cheeks in relief that someone could help. You couldn’t focus on what she was saying. 

‘You need to get Wanda, please Nat, please. They’re hurting her.’

Wanda’s screams began again, echoing off the walls and ricocheting around your mind. Your nails scratched your scalp as you fell to your knees.

You heard Natasha’s voice again, muffled and distorted like she was somewhere underwater.

‘Why are you still here?’ You screamed at the door. ‘Why aren’t you helping her?’ 

You buried your head in your hands, muffling another scream that bubbled out of you.

Confusion turned to rage and you seethed at Natasha’s continued unmoving presence behind the door. You hated your own uselessness. 

‘What about the baby?’ You shouted again, hearing the desperate edge plaguing your own voice. ‘Please Nat, please, she’s pregnant. They’re gonna kill her.’

You broke off into a cry at the words. You couldn’t hear anything but the neverending screams. 

You curled yourself against the wall, shakes wracking your body. You wondered how you could ever have feared death for yourself. 

Now Wanda was dying, she was being murdered. You’d never see your baby. The last piece of her was going to die along with her. You couldn’t fix it.

Your screams mixed with Wanda’s and you felt the emptiness slam into your own chest, like your baby was dying inside of you instead.

You wanted to die. You wanted it all to be over. There wasn’t anything else.

Wanda’s screams quietened and you sat, taut with the tension of waiting desperately to hear her and also dreading her voice.

Were they letting her rest, or was she finally dead?

Your heart beat stuttered erratically as you waited for some noise. Time dragged hellishly. Now, the silence was the worst of all. 

You drew your knees up to your chest, burying your face against them. You started to sob, some animalistic moan building in your chest at the inexpressible pain.

No future. No baby. No Wanda. 

Would there even be bodies to bury? You choked on the thought, and you heard your cries like they were someone else's.

.

Natasha’s voice echoed into the room once again. You froze at the sensation, looking around desperately for her figure. A grim hope flared in your chest once again. Natasha could still get you out, even if she wouldn’t help Wanda and the baby.

Once you were out of this room, you could get to them. You could still try.

‘(Y/N?)’ You recognised your name in Natasha’s voice, she sounded panicked. 

You lifted your head fully to lean against the wall, waiting for her to tell you the news you didn’t know how to hear. You were too late.

‘Wanda’s okay. She’s okay. Remember? No matter what.’

Your eyes closed at Natasha’s words, somehow, inherently, you trusted them.

‘No matter what.’ You rasped out, throat wrecked from your own screams. You heard Natasha’s message. There was still hope, this was still part of the mission.

As if called upon by Natasha’s words, Wanda’s voice returned again. 

Now, you heard the soft scared whimpers that you’d only heard before when you’d held her through the worst of nightmares.

‘Why is she still crying?’ You moaned out desperately, confusion clawing at you.

‘Your mind is playing tricks.’ Natasha told you again.

Wanda started begging. Begging for the baby, begging for you. You heard her desperate pleads and bile rose in your throat.

Natasha was lying. There was no way that your mind could invent this. 

You lay against the cold concrete floor, wishing you had been killed in one of the explosions.

They were still hurting her. You could picture the sharp knife from the way she whimpered quietly. She’d always been scared of knives. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You closed your eyes, desperate for unconsciousness.

You no longer had any concept of time. You only opened your eyes when you next registered a change in Wanda’s voice.

She was calling your name. It was soft like air. Your head flew up from its place on the floor and you turned disorientedly to find her. Before you could scramble to your feet, you registered her voice.

‘(Y/N) loves you.’ Wanda’s voice came softly into the room. You were sure the sound was sneaking in with the bright cracks of light surrounding the door. You inched closer, wanting to be near her more than anything in the world.

‘Even when I’m not here. (Y/N) is going to love you extra just for me.’

Your stomach rolled as you realised who Wanda was saying goodbye to. Misery pinned you to the floor. You stared upwards, unable to do anything but listen, as Wanda comforted the baby she knew she’d never see. 

Tears flooded down your cheeks and numbness started to creep in.

Time dragged on. You stayed close to the crack of light by the door. Your hand trailed the concrete wall miserably, wishing you could touch her skin instead.

Wanda was crying to herself somewhere nearby. You didn’t want her to be alone. Why didn’t she know you were here and that you loved her? Screams choked and died in your throat, knowing they’d be as useless as the ones you’d made before.

The worst part of their torture was the monotony of it all. You didn’t know how many times they brought Wanda to the edge of death, until her screams were uncontrolled and her desperate cries for you filled up the awful tiny room. But, every time they stopped, the only real certainty was that they’d start again.

You thought you might have slept, but time moved differently now. Your dreams seemed like reality and the two felt increasingly indistinguishable. You only stopped crying as the thirst began to kick in.

.

Eventually, small pieces of reality started to trickle back in. Thick white gas and metal faces swam abstractly in your mind. You clung to these thoughts hoping there’d be some clue in them to lead you to Wanda.

It took forever until you remembered Natasha’s words on the helicarrier.

Knowing that you were hallucinating didn’t help as much as you’d hoped. You knew it wasn’t really Wanda now. 

Still, the cries sounded real. Image after image of her lying dead just behind the metal door attacked your mind.

You couldn’t trust that she and the baby were safe. 

You tried to block out her voice, begging again for you to be spared.

You’d have thrown up. But, you hadn’t eaten either. Thirst parched you and your stomach felt hollow. You kept staring at the ceiling. 

You started hearing the desperate wails of an infant and you closed your eyes again. Waves of agony rolled through you at the sound and the urgent need to find your child. 

Wanda’s baby was screaming and that meant she was gone.

You started to cry again.

.

The bolt of the door scraped open slowly and, at first, you were sure it was another hallucination. You could see Natasha’s face this time.

Her hand extended out with a water bottle in it. Her eyes stared deep into yours.

‘Wanda is okay.’ She said clearly. ‘Do you understand?’ You tried to nod as new sobs of relief flooded through you. You believed her. You started to rock yourself again. 

Natasha crouched down next to you, one hand on your knee.

‘Quarantine is over.’ She told you succinctly, forcing the water bottle into your hand until you took it, obediently starting to drink. You emptied it in a few gulps, your thirst reminded you of the eternity you’d spent in here.

‘How long?’ You croaked out. 

‘Two days. We told her the mission got extended.’ Natasha’s tone told you how little she’s enjoyed keeping your pact.

‘She doesn’t know?’ You checked.

‘She’s not here.’ Natasha told you, as if this was answer enough.

You tried to speak again, but your throat closed up.

‘You can see her now.’ Natasha said simply, taking your hand and pulling you to your very shaky feet. You used her hand as a crutch as you moved gingerly towards the door. 

The corridor outside was unfamiliar, but you knew it was the Avengers Medical Wing from the logo on the wall. First you entered a small room, a fresh set of clothes lay folded. A bathroom stood off to the side. Natasha waited outside the door as you hurried through the tasks.

Soon, you shuffled through to a generic waiting room. Clint sat on one of the uncomfortable seats, head in his hands as he stared at the ground. He looked up as soon as he heard you coming.

‘Fuck. You look like shit.’ His eyes tracked your face worriedly. You didn’t have the energy for a comeback. You kept moving forward, turning your head only as you passed him.

‘Thank you.’ You told him. Clint glowered, knowing you meant keeping Wanda in the dark. He left quickly, kicking over a chair as he left the room. You understood why he couldn’t say ‘You��re welcome’.

Natasha’s arm moved tentatively around your shoulders but she didn’t make you slow your pace. You moved to the elevator, pressing the button for the floor you shared with Wanda.

You ached at how close she’s been the whole time.

‘And she’s fine?’ You checked again.

Wordlessly, Natasha handed you over your phone. The battery was nearly dead, but you saw the list of texts and calls. Wanda was safe, but she knew something was up. You swallowed nervously.

The doors opened onto your floor and you moved forward to the last door between you and Wanda. 

Natasha stayed in the elevator.

‘Thank you.’ You remembered before the elevator doors closed. Natasha just nodded once, and her eyes filled with a rush of worry you’d never seen before.

‘No matter what.’ She muttered. And you nodded. She didn’t know yet, but she was going to be a godmother soon.

.

You turned back to let yourself into the apartment. Your hand was shaking as you gripped the door handle. That recurring image of Wanda lying bleeding on the floor flitted through your mind.

You opened the door, fearing your worst nightmare. You held your breath.

Your first and only thought when you saw her, was that she was safe.

Wanda was sleeping in a chair, somehow sitting half upright. It looked uncomfortable. If her eyes had been open she’d have seen you enter, obviously having fallen asleep facing the door.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. 

Your mind chanted the only thing you’d prayed for in the last two days.

You moved wordlessly into the room, only knowing you wanted to touch her. To feel her warm and pressed against you.

Your hand grazed her arm softly. Wanda’s eyes opened instantly at the touch. She gave a small gasp at the sight of you.

‘I’m back.’ You said unnecessarily, trying to remember how to smile.

Wanda’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sob. Her cries were horrifyingly familiar to you. You knelt in front of her, trying to block out the sound automatically. Your hands gripped her thighs and your lips touched her belly, pressing a kiss there. 

You tried to remind yourself of reality.

Wanda’s hands gripped your shoulders, and you looked back up to her teary face.

‘Thank God.’ She mumbled, shifting forward in her seat. You rose to stand as she did the same, catching her in an embrace as she fell into your arms.

‘They wouldn’t tell me anything.’ She mumbled into your shirt.

 ‘Oh God, I thought they didn’t know how to tell me -.’ Wanda’s words trailed off into another round of sobs. 

You focused on the feeling of having her in your arms.

‘It was just a mission that ran long.’ You soothed, feeling her hot damp tears soak through your shirt. Wanda’s fingers clung to your shirt. 

‘You didn’t text me back.’ She whimpered. The aching familiarity of the sound reminded you all over again.

‘I wanted to.’ You promised, tears starting to run again down your own cheeks.

‘Are you okay?’ You had to ask, the fear of everything still eating you up inside. ‘And the baby?’

Wanda moved back in your hold, eyes searching yours. 

‘We’re fine.’ She whispered to you softly and you saw the tear tracks staining her face. ‘All we needed was you.’

You nodded dumbly, swallowing the hot lump in your throat.

Wanda’s fingers slid into your hair and she pulled your face to hers.

Her lips were soft, tasting a little of salt after all the tears. Her warmth was familiar, her touch held you safe.

You were home.

‘I’ll always come back.’ You mumbled a moment later against her lips, knowing now how difficult that promise was. 

‘No matter what.’

[please-destroy]

River

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

.

There were two of you. You knew that from the start. You did not ask about her.

You were in love. You wanted to be.

When she took your hand, her fingers would thread slowly with yours. Your heart beat stronger with her gentle touch. You ignored the cool metal of her wedding band.

You pretended that no one else loved her like you did.

Her lips were always rougher than they looked. You lived for the feel of them on your skin. 

Sometimes, she told you about her wife. Only in passing, only in reference to their shared life. Mentions of weekend trips and dinners after work.

At first, you listened eagerly. Naive and envious in the same breath, you longed for a life just like it. Most embarrassingly, you started to hope for it. You remembered small details purposefully, how she always forgot to wear sunscreen, that she hated the stress of driving to new places. 

You didn’t ask her to choose you, not yet. But, now she was with you in your daydreams.

.

Months passed like water pouring out. You let each one wash over you.

She rented an apartment in the city just for you to share. Soon, it felt more like home than your own cheap rental. 

You found yourself on your lunch breaks at the cafe, living for her short texts, laughing at her snarky complaints. 

In the evenings, her nails scraped through your hair and you felt alive. 

Winter froze the city but you’d never felt warmer. 

She saw you the day after Christmas. You’d already decorated a small tree in the apartment. Her long dark hair sparkled under the strings of lights that you’d hung. She smiled with a special kind of relief when you told her about the takeout that you’d ordered. 

You listened to her quiet murmurings about the exhausting holiday season trapped with a woman who only drained her.

She gave you a watch that felt too expensive to sit on your wrist. You glanced down at it while you ate your takeout, feeling unspeakably special.

You gave her polaroids that you’d been very shy to pose for. 

She left the next morning, extra early to ensure she was on time for some obligation at her wife’s work.

You lay an extra hour, tangled up in the sheets, realising that you didn’t know who you were without her.

She had flooded your veins, watering down whatever had made you up before. You decided that you liked it.

She called you on New Year’s Eve; she’d bailed on some party just to speak to you. You could hear the frustration simmering in her tone. You ached at her unhappiness, but you also thrived on the feeling of being wanted by her. That you could be her place to turn to. 

At last, she said the words that you’d been praying to hear.

She was ready to end her marriage. 

The new year began with fresh anticipation. 

.

January ended and nothing had changed. 

.

You tried to be patient, waiting for her to tell you about divorce papers or formal separations.

You saw her more than ever in that sacred apartment. But, the precious lingering moments started to feel sluggish. You felt like you were on the edge of something real. You awaited the promised vacations, the shared domestic life, your own evening dates in fancy restaurants. 

The delay made you feel more stained by everything you’d done together. Reality began to feel heavier. 

In the evenings with her, you’d curl in her arms and let the white sheets take away the sin of it all. Slowly, in those quiet moments together,  she started to tell you all the details of her marriage. 

The words seemed unstoppable, unflinching in their honesty. At first, you felt proud that she could confide in you.

She listed the reasons that she’d strayed, the reasons that she’d found you.

The abstract wife who’d never seemed real, now became increasingly formed.

‘Natasha’ started to haunt your dreams.

You heard bitter stories about Natasha’s crippling fear of intimacy, the impact it had on everyone close to her. How frustrating it was. The way she distrusted simple kindness. The holidays she had ruined with her petty arguments. Her insecurities that never seemed to go away. 

Natasha’s motives seemed twisted, illogical, cruel, as you were told them. The stories seemed like bad fairy tales but you listened patiently to each one.

She continued to confide in you. Stories from years ago and moments from her day to day. You waited for the inevitable conclusion to be reached, for the logical choice to separate from the villain in every tale. 

All you seemed to get were more bitter stories.

.

You started to feel like a stone embedded in a riverbed, caught in the constant stream of water but never quite dislodged enough to break free.

You started hearing the bias in her stories, the cruelty of her tone. You started seeing a side of her that you didn’t want to.

More than anything, you found yourself starting to root for another woman who could only hate you. 

Natasha was so much stronger than either of you. 

Snippets of description lingered in your head, even when you were alone. 

Sometimes, sitting in your own apartment, you tried to imagine what shade of green Natasha’s eyes were. If she was really so tiresome or just not as self-interested as her wife.

You’d spent half a year living for the moments in that apartment. For warm towels wrapping around you, soft sheets and tangled limbs. The fleeting comfort of being held from behind, warm kisses on your bare shoulders.

You’d felt precious, like a gift meant for her. Someone to be cherished.

Now, you looked at yourself, staring back in the foggy bathroom mirror and knew that you were unloved.

You realised that your eyes were empty. You had stopped trying to be someone you liked.

You felt drained and understood at last that you were being used. .

You realised that you didn’t covet another woman’s wife. You didn’t covet anything at all.

You felt like an empty vessel, now filled to the brim with someone else’s bitterness.

You wanted yourself back. You broke free.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from you finished something that should never have been started. 

You didn’t give her a reason. You couldn’t think how to justify yourself. How to explain that you hated the way she talked about her wife. How you were starting to hate yourself. That her adultery was suddenly unforgivable.

You felt like an accomplice to something gut-twisting.

.

It was the precipice of summer now. You blocked her number when texts and calls continued to flood your phone.

You took extra shifts at the cafe. You’d grown distant from friends during the winter and now you tried your best to make amends. 

Each apology was painful and awkward, forcing you to confront your own selfishness when close friends gave you long overdue life updates. 

When you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were brighter. Every new morning, you hated yourself a little less.

You started walking more, trying to fill time that had been saved for her. You took detours to and from work, listening to thudding music through cheap earphones. You tried to leave your mistakes behind. Putting distance between you and your regrets.

You couldn’t walk away from the guilt. Thoughts of Natasha were inescapable, regret took a heavy seat on your heart.

.

It was a Saturday afternoon, simmering with uncomfortable city heat. 

You walked back to your apartment lethargically, sweat sticking your shirt to your back.

There was a woman standing in the dim hallway, just outside your door. 

Fear pinned you to the spot. The world moved in slow motion as she turned to face you.

Her red hair was braided back. Her jaw seemed tight, but her lips looked too soft for words. Anger flickered behind her green eyes. 

‘I think you know my wife.’ She spoke clearly, the crisp words slicing through the air between you.

‘Fuck.’ You whispered, doused in sudden icy panic.

.

You knew you were a homewrecker. You hadn’t realised that it was an Avenger’s home.

Your stomach sank through the floor as you warily regarded her at the end of the hallway. Natasha Romanoff was capable of anything. You’d heard rumours that she was super human. 

She was also hypnotising with her casual beauty. 

Her eyes were a deeper green than the woman you’d imagined. 

Silence stretched between you. You waited in fear.

Finally, Natasha nodded her head toward your front door.

The pointed reminder of social etiquette threw you off. You huffed an embarrassed breath as you hurried forward to unlock it.

You held the door open and Natasha walked past you. You caught the way she held her breath as she passed by you. You felt her disgust like a harsh blow to the chest. You reminded yourself it was the least you deserved.

An apology burned in your chest, desperate to be spoken aloud. 

Standing in the centre of your shitty small apartment, Natasha turned back to you. Her diamond stud earrings stood out comically in the dingy room. 

‘I hear we are in love with the same person.’ She commented, looking you straight in the eye. Her hands were buried deep in her leather jacket’s pockets, but you could make out the clenched fists. 

Her tense frame seemed sharply vulnerable. She was much smaller in person.

‘I think we’ve known different people.’ You replied cautiously, sympathy beginning to build in your chest. 

‘You need to leave her alone.’ Natasha bit back and her eyes flashed suddenly.

‘We’re not-’ You stumbled over your words, rushing to correct her impression. ‘We ended it. Everything.’ You cleared your throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Natasha blinked with clear surprise; she ignored your apology completely. 

‘What do you mean?’ She asked, voice dropping unexpectedly. Your gaze lowered to the ground, hot shame burned through you.

‘It lasted six months and ended three weeks ago.’ You answered factually, hating the taste of the truth. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You added again uselessly.

Natasha’s expression closed off and for a moment she was very still. Then, she moved suddenly across your apartment. The heel of her hand slammed against your wall, leaving a clear dent. You watched her forehead tilt forward, leaning heavily against the old wallpaper.  You heard her rapid breathing. Every inhale was drawn shakily. 

Your next apology died on your lips. Tears burned in your eyes. You hovered in awful limbo in the centre of the room.

Slowly, Natasha faced you again. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she wasn’t crying. She swallowed once. Her gaze dropped and she stared down at your wrist. Distress flickered behind her eyes.

You followed her stare to the wristwatch that had stopped feeling special a long time ago. Wordlessly, Natasha reached up to her earrings, undoing them one after the other. She threw them with unerring aim onto your side table.

‘There.’ She murmured, sounding broken in ways you couldn’t comprehend. ‘You might as well have all my Christmas presents.’

Nausea rose like a tidal wave as you tried to swallow down your disgust.

‘Oh God.’ You whispered in horror, unclasping the watch and throwing it onto the nearby sofa.

Natasha’s focus returned to you. Her lip twitched with a strange, resigned half smile.

‘You’re not special.’ She commented neutrally. ‘And neither am I.’

You shook your head with automatic fervour.

‘You’re a superhero.’ You countered quietly, unable to meet her eyes all over again.

Natasha’s hand brushed her cheek harshly and you realised that she’d started crying. 

‘I wreck everything.’ She muttered harshly and you recognised her honesty as another sign of your irrelevance to her. ‘Everything I touch, I ruin.’

‘You’re an Avenger.’ You tried to speak up again. You’d been fucking her wife, who’d been complaining whilst she’d been saving the world. Everything was so twisted. 

‘They just point me at the right targets.’ Natasha whispered. ‘It’s what I was made to do. I’m not made for anything else. I can’t even make a fucking marriage work.’

It felt like pieces of the room were falling down around you. The woman you had no right to speak to was imploding quietly at the edge of it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You whispered one last time.

The apology seemed to snap Natasha out of her misery. She blinked away the tears clinging to her eyelashes and straightened up.

‘I don’t even know why I bothered you.’ She admitted tiredly as her hands slipped back into her pockets. You caught the reddened palm of the one that had hit your wall. ‘I should go.’

As she took a step toward the door, you took a step forward too.

‘Your earrings.’ You began, eyes darting unsurely to the watch that you realised was also technically hers. 

Natasha caught your hesitation and sudden exhaustion rinsed her face clean.

‘They’re not worth saving.’ She murmured in dismissal.

‘Don’t tell anyone about this.’ Natasha added in a tighter, controlled voice, before shutting the door with abrupt finality. 

Your next hesitation was short lived.

‘Wait.’ You called suddenly, hurriedly following her out into the hallway.

Natasha turned around at your voice. Fresh, private tears stained her cheeks.

‘Can I give you my number, just in case?’ You asked nervously, hand already reaching in your pocket for your phone.

‘Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?’ Natasha bit out so harshly that you flinched.

‘Because who else can you talk to about this?’ You retorted with sudden certainty.

Natasha’s mouth shut abruptly.

You reeled off your number aloud, Natasha didn’t write it down but she stayed stoically until you’d finished speaking.

When you returned to your apartment, you sat on your sofa and stared up at the cracked ceiling, thinking about the mess you’d made. The pain you’d inflicted on someone else.

Natasha’s eyes were going to haunt you forever.

.

Natasha called you three days later. You answered the unknown number unsurely. You were on your lunch break, sitting on a step just behind the heavy fire exit door. The warm breeze barely made the summer air tolerable.

Your throat closed at her voice. 

‘There’s definitely someone else.’ She told you, without preamble. You felt sick, you realised how little you wanted to have this conversation. You felt like you owed her everything.

‘How do you know?’ You asked, forcing your voice to be even.

‘How do you think I knew about you?’ Natasha retorted, voice deceptively cool. ‘Did you think that she’s subtle?’

You stood up, beginning to pace with the phone pressed to your ear. 

‘Are you going to confront her?’ You asked, wondering if she was looking for courage.

‘No-’ Natasha’s voice faltered obviously, as if your question had thrown her. ‘No, it’s not that simple.’

‘She’s being cruel.’ You whispered, thinking guiltily back to the horrible things that Natasha’s wife had said about her. 

‘I can make this work. Natasha replied, voice cracking. ‘I just need another chance. I just need to-’

‘You can’t push all this bad shit down, that’s not balance.’ You heard yourself advising in a low voice.  ‘You’re the only person here who hasn’t done anything wrong.’ 

Natasha hung up the phone.

You spent another afternoon filled with regret.

.

The next evening, she was standing outside your door again. You tried not to be relieved to see her again. 

There was something laughably put together about her professional outfit. The black suit jacket was pristine. 

You let her in this time without hesitation.

It felt like a movie cliche. Natasha sat tensely on your sofa. You sat nervously beside her. She put her head in her hands and you watched the way her jacket went taut against the curve of her spine. 

‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Natasha whispered into her hands. ‘I’m so ashamed.’

Your heart shattered silently. You didn’t understand. 

‘This isn’t your fault.’ You murmured softly.

Natasha adjusted, crossing her arms tightly as she sat up straighter. 

‘I promised her that I’d get better.’ Natasha told you, in a voice dripping with self loathing. Her tone was too cold, you found yourself resisting the urge to shrink away from her.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked hesitantly.

The line of Natasha’s jaw tensed before she answered. Her long straight hair was loose, obscuring her face slightly. Her eyes flickered to you and you remembered how little she must trust you.

You lifted your hands in mock surrender.

‘What I meant to ask.’ You corrected hastily. ‘Is, do you want a drink?’

Real surprise flooded Natasha’s face at your words. Still, you didn’t miss the way her shoulders relaxed at the turn in conversation. She swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding wordlessly. 

You left for the kitchen, returning with an unopened bottle of vodka.

Natasha took it silently, unscrewing the cap between her thumb and forefinger. 

‘I hate that I’m here.’ She admitted after lifting the bottle to her lips. 

“I hate what I did.’ You admitted readily too.

‘Stop saying that.’ She advised suddenly, twisting the gold band on her finger. ‘It doesn’t make anyone feel better, except you.’

You nodded, feeling embarrassed.

‘When I told my boss that I was getting married. He said it wasn’t something I could do well.’ She confessed suddenly. Natasha made you feel invisible, her eyes skated over you as she spoke.

You didn’t matter to her. You had no right to.

‘Pain only makes us stronger.’ She breathed softly and the sound filled the hesitations between her words. ‘I don’t know how to deserve her but I have to keep trying.’

‘She doesn’t deserve you Natasha.’ You hated yourself completely. You knew she couldn’t hear you, that your opinion held no weight and it was your own fault.

Natasha took another drink from the vodka bottle.

‘I get stuck behind these walls in my head.’ She mumbled in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t be normal.’

A lump rose in your chest. Her words were unbearably sad. 

Your hand moved carefully to rest in the space between her shoulder blades. Natasha flinched away sharply.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She told you angrily and you felt yourself truly want to die.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered, embarrassed tears filling your eyes.

The air was stifling as you fought to keep your breathing even.

‘Every time I look at you, I think about her fucking you.’ Natasha continued, anger flowing through her, uncontrolled. She slammed the bottle down on the side table and fear iced up the back of your neck. 

‘Do you think I just fucking forget about that?’ She asked cuttingly, getting to her feet.

There was an awful pause. Then, with sudden clarity, you felt brave. You owed Natasha everything, no words could tear you down lower.

‘Do you forget when you’re with her?’ You asked, standing up too.

‘You have a wife who is breaking your heart.’ You heard your voice growing stronger and you barely recognised yourself. ‘Do you think she loves you? Do you know what she says about you?’

Natasha’s face went ashen.

‘You are better than her.’ You continued fiercely. ‘I can’t forget the things I did either. The only person who can live with themself is her.’

The silence that met your words was pervasive. You could hear your refrigerator humming in the other room.

.

Natasha ran her hand through her hair, leaving it messier than before. Another piece of her collected image fell apart.

‘I’m trying.’ She muttered brokenly. ‘I’m trying so hard.’

‘It’s not your fault that she’s hurting you.’ You countered quietly, feeling self-conscious after your outburst.

Natasha gave you a strange look, filled with twisting guilt that you recognised too familiarly. 

‘It is.’ She whispered in a cracked voice. 

She sank back down onto your old sofa. 

‘Fuck.’ She muttered, rubbing her face briefly with her hands. ‘I love her. I do love her.’ She started quietly, twisting her wedding band harshly.

‘But, everything is hard.’ Natasha confessed, staring down at her lap. ‘And I asked her to be patient with me, but I can’t figure out how to make myself change.’

You watched Natasha with bated breath. It felt cooler suddenly, like a breeze had finally found its way into your shitty apartment.

‘Don’t fucking change.’ You determined firmly and Natasha turned to stare at you in shock. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ Your confidence came from a certainty in your chest. 

‘There’s nothing wrong with how you love people.’ You continued. ‘Your love has saved so many fucking lives.’

Natasha watched you like an unsure child.

You felt stronger, closer to a freedom that only her happiness could bring.

‘You’re not failing by being yourself.’ You continued to assert. ‘You can’t be.’

‘I really do love her.’ Natasha murmured and you realised that she was looking at you differently now.

You hoped she knew that you were on her side.

‘I know.’ You reassured her softly. ‘Love shouldn’t be this hard.’ 

‘Believe me, I know.’ You added in a mutter under your breath. 

A short laugh left Natasha unexpectedly.

You fought a tiny smile as the air settled, drenched in unspeakable relief.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from Natasha finished something that should never have been started. 

She didn’t need to give a reason. But, she did.

She explained how much she hated the way that her wife talked to her. She wrote that her adultery was unforgivable.

At last, you felt like an accomplice to something good.

.

It was autumn when you next saw Natasha. 

She walked into your cafe like she was a regular. A hush fell over the busy establishment. Whispers of Black Widow circulating faster than the caffeine did.

Her hands rested on the counter and you noted the absence of her wedding ring. Natasha caught your gaze and she smiled simply.

‘When’s your break?’ She asked, as you began filling the coffee cup.

You sat together, on the step just behind the heavy fire exit door. Natasha’s shoulder was pressed against yours. The cool air was made pleasant by your warm coat.

Natasha told you that things were easier now. 

She had better friends than she’d ever realised. She told you about Friday movie nights with some people from work. She told you about the cat that had moved into her new apartment, only a few weeks after she had.

You sipped on your coffee as you listened, not tasting anything except its warmth. 

You asked carefully if she still spoke to her ex-wife. 

Natasha shook her head and gave a gentle laugh. Her hair caught the autumn light and you realised suddenly that it was made up of many shades of red.

Before she left, Natasha gave you her number. 

.

You didn’t text her. 

Natasha was a better person than you. She was brave, strong and kind. 

You’d been granted more forgiveness than you deserved. 

Natasha’s eyes finally stopped haunting your dreams.

.

It was the start of winter when Natasha called you. She invited you to the next Friday movie night with her friends, she was hosting it at her apartment. You didn’t realise how easy it was to say yes, until you did.

The streets were icy when you walked over that evening. Natasha wore an oversized wool jumper and leggings when she answered the door. 

She’d invited you earlier than anyone else. She offered you a glass of wine and introduced you to a black cat that slunk away from you in distaste. 

There were various framed photos placed around the living room. Natasha was smiling in every single one. 

More people arrived and soon the small gathering felt like a party. 

Natasha introduced you to each new guest as an old friend. You caught the way her work friends exchanged curious glances. 

More wine was poured and soon a cheesy romcom occupied the room’s attention.

Her living room now held more people in it than there were comfortable seats and so Natasha sat on the floor, just in front of you.

Somewhere, between the wine and the easy laughter, and Natasha’s back pressed comfortably against your legs, you started braiding a piece of her hair.

You watched the way Natasha smiled to herself, pink cheeks from the alcohol.

.

The new year began better than the last.

[please-destroy]

First Fall of Snow

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

.

‘Downstairs in ten minutes.’ Natasha walked right past you with her matter of fact greeting.

You held your tongue but your gaze caught Tony’s knowing one. You rolled your eyes at his smirk, every morning was the same.

You kept quiet as you stood up from the breakfast table. Your muscles ached with anticipation for the inevitably exhausting sparring match.

It was just a regular Tuesday.

You never thought you’d be used to such a rigorous regime.

.

You’d first been identified for the Avengers’ Initiative after you’d tipped off the authorities about a human trafficking ring in New York. 

It had been the scariest moment of your life. Your sixth sense for reading other people’s intentions was something that you’d always wanted to keep hidden. You were terrified of what might happen if the wrong people found out.

You couldn’t explain how you’d learned about the criminal gang. You’d hesitated to even call the police.

In the end, you’d left the anonymous tip and intended to leave the city too.

A nondescript van had been waiting for you at the airport instead. 

Director Fury had recruited you right then, on the drive back into the city. 

You’d been wary of the prickling warning signs that even his presence gave you. You’d reminded yourself that complicated intentions were not always bad ones.

Instead, you’d focused on Agent Hill, sitting across from you in the van. Her piercing stare was steady and integrity radiated out from her. 

You decided that there were worse organisations to join.

It had taken Shield less than a day to move you into the Avengers Tower. 

It had taken Natasha Romanoff just over a week to return from her mission and take over your training.

.

The first time you saw her, you were playing video games in the shared living area of the Tower. At her entrance, you automatically stood up from the sofa.

Her hair was braided neatly back. Her gym clothes were non-descript. 

She was so beautiful that it stung.

Natasha’s stare was assessing. She asked you a question. You watched her lips move as you forgot how to process the English language.

Tony muttered something rude from his seat to the side of you. 

‘Downstairs in ten.’ Natasha simply announced, leaving you to scramble back to your room and change into some gym clothes. 

Everything about Natasha’s entrance felt purposeful. 

You wondered if she was careful with her intentions around you, or if she really lived in such a steady state of calm. 

You were already impressed before you’d even walked into the gym. 

When you entered, Natasha looked small from across the room. More ironically, she looked harmless too.

She had a knee pressed against your throat in the first twenty seconds.

A sixth sense was definitely useful but your lack of defensive skills was a glaring weakness.

You quickly learned that Natasha Romanoff did not tolerate weakness.

.

That year, you watched the first New York City snowfall through the highrise windows of your new home. 

You also received purpling bruises as if they were early Christmas gifts.

Your life stopped being your own. Your diet was prescribed. Your training was exact.

By the New Year, you were exhausted, tired and painfully aware of your lack of ability.

You considered quitting the team every time that you walked into another sparring session. Great opportunities were only great if you wanted to have them. You’d never wanted to be a fighter.

.

There was one morning when you took an unexpected hit from Natasha. She caught you unexpectedly from the side and you tumbled sideways, slamming into the hardwood floor unceremoniously. 

You lay on the ground, trying to catch your breath as you watched Natasha walk away with some otherworldly grace to the side of the gym. 

Your gaze landed on the door at the farside of the room. You felt the sudden urge to walk out. All this pain and your progress was hardly noticeable. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted to do more than leave.

For the first time, you felt Natasha’s intentions shift in front of you.

‘Go on then.’ She called out before taking a gulp from her water bottle. 

It had taken nearly six months for her to break a sweat whilst sparring with you. Your eyes caught on the wisps of hair that escaped her braids. They were curling slightly as heat radiated from her. She seemed more beautiful now than ever.

‘If you can’t take it, then you can leave.’ Natasha continued, voice openly challenging. Her eyebrow raised daringly as she stared at you.

It was a front. Your sixth sense pricked as Natasha’s disappointment filled the room.

You thought of all the lives that you could have saved. All the bad intentions from stranger’s that you’d chosen to ignore.

You got to your feet slowly. 

Agent Romanoff could walk through fire unscathed. You wanted to be that brave. 

You owed it to the people who had died because of your hesitation.

The feeling of Natasha’s satisfaction was overwhelming. The only hint of it on her face was the smallest of smirks.

It was hard not to have a crush.

Natasha was unshakeable. You were never good at feeling steady.

You were careful not to assume even a friendship with her. 

It had happened naturally with the other Avengers but with Natasha there was a tension in the air. 

Maybe, it was because she’d seen you at your least competent.

Maybe it was because you wanted Natasha to like you far too much to risk the rejection. 

.

Soon enough, the summer sunshine returned to New York. You watched the trees change in Central Park.

You buried your feelings. You worked harder in every workout. 

Training started to feel like all you had, days merged together. You let it be enough. You lived for the brief cracks in Natasha’s calm mask. The flicker of a smile, the passing of a water bottle when you’d finally earned a break.

.

Somehow, living with the Avengers, each day felt endless but whole months could fly by.

The rhythm of meeting Natasha in the gym was second nature to you now. You came to breakfast already in your workout clothes. 

You took the employee staircase at the back of the building down to the gym, learning to shave a minute from your journey time.

Natasha had demanded high performance from you since the day she’d met you. Finally, you were learning how to give it.

.

It was as you hurried past the large window on the staircase landing, that you saw the first snowflakes flutter down over the city.

Your heart stopped at the sight. You wondered if the seasons could really change so fast.

You paused on the staircase and gripped the bannister. You saw the well-defined muscles in your own arm tighten.

Deja vu coated you like its own fresh flurry of snow. You remembered the aching bruises that you’d had the last time you’d seen a view like this.

You felt peaceful and victorious as you stared out. Your shallow breaths misted the cold window. 

You let yourself lose track of time.

You jolted when you heard the swinging door shut below you. You looked over the bannister. 

Natasha stared back up at you, arms folded in an imitation of impatience. 

‘Ten minutes.’ She reminded you, as if it was still your first day. 

You smiled.

Maybe it was because of the way her short ponytail bounced as she craned her neck upward.

Maybe it was because of the fresh snow on the windowsill and the feeling in your veins like you might finally have made something of yourself.

Maybe it was because nothing sounded better than spending another morning with Natasha.

You smiled wider. 

You realised that you couldn’t stop. Your cheeks stung with the electric buzz of happiness.

You felt an answering ripple in Natasha’s calm exterior. 

Confusion rolled through her as her head tilted curiously. You saw her crossed arms tighten. 

‘I can’t believe it’s been a year.’ You said softly. ‘Thank you Natasha, for everything.’

Natasha blinked twice and her eyes seemed impossibly wide from your higher up position. 

She shrugged and her voice rasped when she next spoke.

‘You’re the one who did all the work.’ Natasha reminded you. ‘You’re the one who didn’t give up.’

You didn’t know how to acknowledge all the credit that she was shrugging off.

You started to walk down the rest of the stairs.

‘Sometimes, I think about all the things I could have done.’ You confessed suddenly. ‘All the lives I could have saved if I’d been prepared before.’

Natasha’s breath caught and you felt a wave of shock shatter through her emanating confidence. 

‘And now, I’ll never have to hesitate again.’ You continued, as you closed the distance between you. It was warmer down here, standing away from the large window. 

Impossibly, Natasha felt closer now than she’d ever been before. 

You paused as her arms slowly unfolded and her hands moved to her sides. You caught the brief movement of her fingernails digging into her palms.

‘I know that exact feeling.’ Natasha rasped out. 

Her voice was a whisper and you focused on her lips as you tried to catch every word. 

Her hands tightened into fists again.

‘There was this place called the Red Room.’ She told you with the same tightness. ‘It took me years to end it.’

The air was filled with brokenness. For the first time, Natasha seemed fragile. Her eyes darted between you and the bright light of the window. 

Every instinct told you what to do next. You still paused. 

You’d learned how to fight with Natasha. You’d taken blows and bruises nearly every time you’d sparred together. Never had you been so hesitant as right now. 

Your fingers slipped carefully in between her tight ones. You slowly loosened her fists, rubbing out the tension in her knuckles. 

Natasha’s intentions shifted one more time. 

Your own attraction mirrored hers. Your eyes focused back to her lips.

Sudden shyness prickled at the back of your neck. It could only be Natasha’s.

You froze.

Natasha’s jaw clenched as she caught your reaction. 

You realised how exposed you must make her feel.

Natasha’s eyes darted away again for a split second. Embarrassment filled you.

You followed her gaze and caught sight of the snow falling outside. 

Your shoulders loosened. You’d spent a whole year stepping out of your comfort zone. You knew how to be brave now. You knew because of Natasha.

You gently interlaced your fingers with Natasha’s again and gave a soft squeeze. You took a step back toward the staircase.

‘Come on.’ You said. ‘I want you to see the snow.’

Natasha followed you readily up the stairs to the landing with the large window. 

You looked over the city together, your shoulders touching. Neither of you spoke.

Natasha’s breath started to fog up the window pane. 

You turned to face her slowly. Natasha’s cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were wide and she looked younger.

Hesitation gave way to anticipation. 

Your hand touched her waist.

She was gentler than you expected when she pressed her lips against yours. 

You felt her happiness like it was your own.

[please-destroy]

The 26th of December

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count 4k

.

You first met at the Shield base. She was ahead of you in the cafeteria line.

Natasha was alone. You’d never seen her before and you guessed she was a new agent. She was slightly jittery. She held herself unnaturally still but her eyes darted around the room. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. 

Her red hair was tied back in two perfect braids, her pale face was fresh except for dark shadows under her eyes. You stood next to her in the line, holding a plastic tray and feeling like a school-child all over again. 

Natasha held an apple in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Her grip made the plastic crackle. 

‘You know, it’s not so bad here.’ You mused aloud after a minute, enjoying the way her head whipped around at the sound of your voice.

Her breath hitched and then she regained herself. You watched her expression move immediately from panic to calm. You took note of the emotional control. Not a typical rookie agent. 

‘Maybe for you. They’re training me with Robin Hood.’ She answered after a beat.

‘Oh.’ You pretended to consider. ‘Well then, I guess you’re fucked.’

Her answering laugh rasped through you like an electric current.

.

You ended up sitting at the same table,whilst you ate. Natasha was a mix of conflicting signals. Her smile was easy but it rarely reflected in her eyes. Her shoulders were loose, but her posture was stiff.

She ate her apple slowly. You tried to make small talk between bites of your own meal. You started to hear the trace of a Russian accent in her short responses. 

Natasha was down to the apple core before she told you anything about herself. Even then, it was just fragments. She’d made a deal with Agent Barton, she’d held up her end of the bargain, now she was here.

You didn’t press for more details. You didn’t think you could.

Instead, you pushed your plate to the centre of the table and gestured to the untouched fries.

‘Well.’ You said lightly. ‘Maybe this ridiculous place can be your home.’

Natasha’s lips twisted into something too complicated to be a smile.  

‘I don’t think I know what home is.’

You glanced at her hand, sneaking to grab a fry. You grinned.

‘Don’t worry.’ You promised. ‘It’s not that complicated.’

.

Conversation with Natasha was like trying to fill in a blank sheet of paper. Sometimes, you felt like your threw conversation topics into the air, trying to guess what she wanted to talk about.

It was easy to spend time with her. Despite different routines and training, you made a habit of eating together.

The habit became easy.

Every mealtime, you found yourselves together at the same time and same place. 

.

Through her first months at Shield, you watched Natasha’s demeanour change. 

Her smile became easy with others. She didn’t tense up in crowds anymore. When your friends came occasionally to sit at your table, she always seemed to welcome the company. You couldn’t tell for sure if she liked them but she never seemed to hesitate when she found herself in a group. 

She definitely preferred socialising with you there. You knew she’d declined a few bigger get-togethers with other agents. 

You thought maybe she liked that you’d known her so long. Longer than anyone except Agent Barton.

Her eyes sparkled whenever she started talking about an inside joke between the two of you. If people were around, she’d meet your gaze daring you to share the story behind it.

Your mind still lingered on what she’d said about home, on the first day that you'd met her.

You wondered what she thought about it now.

.

Every so often, you’d catch the mask slipping. A wince after training, when she sat down at the table. A worried expression that smoothed itself immediately into an easy smile. A momentary stormy look aimed at nothing in particular.

The shadows that lingered under her eyes, darkening and fading with a cyclicality that worried you. 

Sometimes, she’d steal a piece of food from your plate and give you a look too fatigued to be playful.

It was after one of those looks that you invited her back to your rooms at the Shield base.

You had to finish some work, you told her, but you’d like the company anyway.

It felt obvious, like a natural next step that should’ve happened months ago.

You couldn’t help lighting up inside when she said yes. 

.

That evening you typed on your laptop from the sofa, enjoying absentmindedly Natasha's exploration of your space. Her casualness was undercut by tiny hesitations. 

She wandered in and out your kitchen like she was on a guided tour, you heard muffled noises and knew she was rustling through your rarely used spice rack. She wandered back through to your living room, and you tried not to smile obviously when she touched the edge of your fluffy rug experimentally with her foot. She studied the cushions on your sofa and the house plant by the door. You watched her finger trail down the spines of several books on your bookshelf. 

Every time she moved on from something, you waited for her to finally settle. To sit next to you on the sofa, to switch on the TV, or start to talk. 

It was when you heard the rubber duck squeak in your bathroom, that you finally understood. Why would she know how to make herself at home?

‘Natasha.’ You called, looking up from your laptop screen. Natasha’s head popped around a doorway.

You smiled automatically and watched her match it with a smile of her own.

‘You know, you can do whatever you want here’ You told her, tone light but still serious. ‘Mi casa es tu casa.’

Natasha rolled her eyes. You knew then that you’d been too forward. You’d acknowledged her discomfort but she hadn’t wanted you to see it in the first place.

You didn’t feel sorry. You meant what you said. You rose from the sofa to make you both some coffee. 

You touched her shoulder with absentminded affection as you walked past. Natasha went still at the action. You turned before you entered the kitchen, wanting to double check if the touch was okay.

You watched Natasha smile secretly down at the ground. She lifted her head, feeling your gaze and rolled her eyes again. Her smile only got stronger. 

You walked into the kitchen feeling lighter than air. When you returned five minutes later, Natasha was sitting cross legged on your floor. 

She gave you a small smirk when you handed her the coffee mug. You sat on the sofa, just to the side of her. You watched silently as she ripped blank pages out of one of your old notebooks. Her fingers worked deftly as she made snowflakes, origami shapes and chains of paper dolls. 

You watched her with a mix of awe and something undefinable. You thought about home. How the definition of it was starting to change for you too.

After some time, you couldn’t help but reach over, picking up the red biro pen that was lying on the coffee table. Natasha startled then relaxed readily, when you moved to sit beside her. She watched as you messily coloured in the hair of the nearest paper doll. The bright red was almost obnoxious.

Natasha elbowed you lightly when you scribbled ‘Romanoff’ on the doll’s dress.

When Natasha left, you hung the paper dolls above the TV.

.

Agent Barton told you about Natasha’s dilemma before she did. You’d never spoken before but when he caught up with you in the hallway, he addressed you by your first name. It took you a moment to realise that he knew exactly who you were. It turned out, Natasha talked a lot about you. 

Natasha’s annual vacation time was mandatory and had to be taken, but she hadn’t booked any of it. Clint didn’t need to explain why. You’d known Natasha for nearly six months now and she’d never spoken about anyone except the people she’d met since joining Shield. 

Clint lay the problem out matter of factly. 

Natasha had nowhere to go and she didn’t seem to want to leave.

It was the easiest solution you’d ever come up with.

.

You found Natasha in weapons training. She was easy to spot with her usual red braid falling down between her shoulder blades. Her arms were raised as she aimed a gun. Ears covered and focus exact. 

She still spotted you almost immediately. 

You waved awkwardly as she lowered her gun and removed her ear defenders. 

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’

Natasha’s head tilted. At first, you thought she hadn’t understood the question. It took a second, before you realised that she didn’t understand why you were asking. She thought it was obvious that she didn’t have plans.

‘Maybe we could rent a place for the vacation time.’ You suggested. ‘We could go somewhere snowier than here.’

Natasha watched you for a long moment and then you watched her lips life into a small smile.

‘I like snow.’ She said at last. 

.

The next few weeks passed slowly. A new anticipation crept into your life. You rented a cabin in the middle of nowhere for the holidays. In theory, it was the perfect background for an idyllic snowy Christmas. Trees surrounded it on three sides, it was one step away from a true nature retreat. 

When you described the vacation home to Natasha. She’d just nodded seriously, like you were giving her a rundown of details for a future mission. You tried not to let her reaction worry you, she was relatively quiet for the rest of the day.

The next day, Natasha joined you for breakfast with obvious intent. Before you'd had time to say hello. Natasha asked you about the clothes and other essentials you were planning to pack. You found yourself head first into a detailed conversation, full of follow up questions about things like the capacity of your car trunk.

It was then, as she nodded seriously to each of your answers, that you realised. Natasha didn't know what to expect.

The realisation made you feel a sudden sense of responsibility and freedom. Natasha had no expectations for what the holiday could be. But she'd still said yes. It was a good feeling to be trusted.

You observed her sitting across the table. Natasha chewed her lower lip as she thought about her next question. Her fork spun thoughtlessly against her plate.

You realised, that everyone in this place knew either Agent Romanoff or the Black Widow.

You were the only one who knew Natasha.

Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly, her voice came out quieter and she leaned forward slightly. 

‘Could we?’ She hesitated. ‘Should we bring fairy lights? Would that be festive?’

You’d never smiled harder in your life.

‘Yeah.’ You agreed enthusiastically, reaching over to pause her fork mid-twirl. ‘That would be amazing.’

You’d once sat opposite a blank page but now Natasha was a watercolour.

.

The vacation time came at last and together you drove away from the Shield base full of anticipation. 

Natasha was silent, her focus turned to the world passing outside the car window. You fiddled with the radio and tried not to overthink her quietness.

Just over an hour into your drive, you realised that her eyes were sparkling. Another quick glance over to her and you saw the small smile hidden on her lips.

You let some of your excitement trickle back in. You switched the radio to Christmas music and watched her hand quietly tap against her thigh.

Natasha was your best friend. She was starting to become your family. 

You felt your heart squeeze with a new happiness when you heard her deep intake of breath as you drove up to the cabin. The wooden exterior was framed with a thousand golden fairy lights. You’d called the rental agency and asked for a favour. You hadn’t been able to resist.

You watched Natasha’s expression as she stepped out of the car. For the first time, any trace of uncertainty was forgotten. Her wide eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. 

Her foot crunched on the frozen ground and her eyes shot to the snow covered forest floor with a muted joy. You laughed and her gaze found you instead. Her red hair was loose and long, she’d combed out her braids during the car ride. It framed her face prettily. 

Natasha rolled her eyes at your expression but then she started to smile widely.

You held up a finger in a silent request for her to wait a minute before you hurried to the trunk of your car. You fished in your bag for a few moments and retrieved a pair of festive felt reindeer antlers. 

Your face hurt from smiling so hard as you walked back and fixed the pair of antlers onto Natasha’s head. Natasha’s bare fingers reached up and traced the soft material. Her expression was undecided and then it relaxed into another bright smile. For the first time, your heart pounded nervously at her proximity. You’d never seen someone look so beautiful. Natasha moved her head and the bells on the antlers tinkled.

‘Come on.’ You murmured, another persistent smile tugging at your lips. ‘You’ll get cold.’

.

The next few days were illuminating. It became clear just how embedded Natasha’s lifestyle was, as you watched her invent and stick to a new regimented schedule. There was something fascinating about how naturally she followed a routine, even with no real pressure to keep it.

Early morning runs, chopping wood for the stove, yoga, completing stolen work assignments, reading spy novels, undertaking thorough research into unusual topics.

Your schedule was something different. Unlike Natasha, you reverted immediately to a more relaxed way of life, happily shaking off the Shield agent lifestyle. 

You woke later in the day, always after the sun had decidedly risen. You scrounged breakfast from the fridge. You let any passing whim decide your day’s activity. A stroll to find a nearby frozen lake, a sudden urge to make gingerbread.

You realised soon enough that Natasha’s busy schedule was really paper thin. It only took an invitation and she was eager to join yours instead. She told you all about her spy novel when she joined you on your rambling walk to find the frozen lake. She told you about trying to run in the snow outside as she helped with the icing for your gingerbread house. 

That was the other thing that you were starting to notice about Natasha. You’d known her for nearly a year now. You knew you liked her company. You could tell she liked yours. You realised that every minute you spent together only made you want a thousand minutes more.

On the third morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee. You opened your eyes readily, you’d been moments from waking up at your usual time anyway. Natasha cleared her throat and you startled before seeing her standing awkwardly in the doorway. She was holding two mugs of coffee, clearly unsure. 

You smiled automatically at the sight of her. Natasha’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled too. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail and she was wearing green winter pyjamas, straight from a cheesy catalogue. 

‘Morning.’ You yawned as you sat up.

‘Morning.’ She echoed, handing you the coffee.

‘You’re the best.’ You mumbled happily, taking a sip.

You felt Natasha hesitate, trying to decide if she should leave. You patted the bedspread beside you. It was an easy invitation. Natasha curled up in the space next to you, hands cupping her mug.

‘I like your pyjamas.’ You said with a smirk.

‘Shut up.’ She said dryly, but you could tell she was pleased. 

‘Very festive.’

.

You drank coffee in silence for a few minutes and then you started to talk. 

At first it was light things, another book she’d just read, how cold it was that morning. 

.

Then the conversation shifted. She started to tell you real things.

Pieces of childhood. The way the tree branches bowed over the walls of her childhood home. The deep chill of Russian winters. Her favourite American Christmas movie. Where she’d been when she first saw it. 

You thought about all the light talking she’d been doing this vacation as you passed your days together. You wondered if she’d been trying to find the courage for this. With every smile or nod from you, the words kept coming from Natasha. Difficult things. Happy memories that lived with an undercurrent of sadness.

You felt a lump in your throat listening to her, wishing you could explain how much you liked hearing her talk like that. How much you liked her.

It was all special.

.

That Christmas Eve, you suggested a drive to the nearest town for supplies. Natasha looked confused but she only smiled and agreed. She didn’t mention your full kitchen pantry and stacked fridge, already full to the brim with enough ingredients for a full Christmas dinner.

This time, she didn’t stare out the car window for the journey. Instead, she played with the radio dials until she found a Christmas song to sing along to. Her quiet singing made your chest tight with an overwhelming kind of feeling.

You pulled up outside a second-hand store. Natasha looked even more confused as she read the sign on the store. You dragged her in with you to pick up the order that you’d called ahead to see if they had in stock.

In the car, Natasha held the DVD of her favourite American Christmas movie like it was her first ever present.

You only pulled the car over one other time. The very last Christmas tree left in the parking lot beside the small hardware store was cheap and hard not to take pity on. 

Together that afternoon, you adorned the tree with some fairy lights taken from the outside porch and for the rest of the evening, Natasha made paper decorations. You put on an old CD of Christmas music that you'd found, before sitting next to Natasha and starting one of the spy novels that she'd already told you the entire plot of.

As she made the decorations, Natasha began to sing again.

.

You didn’t swap presents on Christmas Day. 

Natasha had asked you about that weeks before and you’d promised her not to worry. 

It started like the days before it,  Natasha walked into your room with her usual quiet hesitation and two mugs of coffee. She started grinning when she saw you, sitting up and ready with the pair of reindeer antlers already on your head. 

She gave you your mug and curled familiarly into the space beside you.

‘What do you want to do today?’ She asked, the question feeling completely natural after the last week. 

You turned your head towards her and watched Natasha try not to laugh when your antler’s tinkled.

‘I want to see the best Christmas movie that you’ve ever seen.’

Natasha's eyes closed when she smiled in response. Her head rested gently against your shoulder.

Spending a day with Natasha was the easiest way to spend a day.

It was a good Christmas.

.

Natasha nudged your door open on the morning of the 26th of December. Your last vacation day. You were already awake; she offered you your coffee before she started to speak. You held your breath in anticipation when she cleared her throat nervously.

‘I wanted to say thank you.’ She said carefully. ‘For letting me come here.’

She stood awkwardly at the foot of your bed. She was still wearing her festive pyjamas and you thought that they might be your favourite thing in the world. Her hair was tied back in its usual long braid. She chewed her lower lip and you watched her eyes try to dart nervously before she focused them on you.

‘Natasha.’ You tried to find the right words, cupping your hot mug. ‘You’re my favourite person in the world. You don't have to say thank you. It wouldn't feel like home without you.’

That was the moment. When the last piece clicked. 

You watched Natasha walk slowly around your bed. You watched her place her coffee mug on the nightstand. You felt the bed shift as she crawled into the familiar space beside you.

Her thumb brushed your cheek when she kissed you. Her touch was warm from the coffee mug.

She tasted like home.

.

Things fell apart slowly and then all at once. 

.

You returned to the real world. 

Natasha’s training had been becoming more specialised for a long time. Director Fury’s plans for her became clearer and more intentional. Her time was less her own. 

You were careful never to push. Natasha became more distracted, her eyes held their secret exhaustion again.

You cherished her when she was there. The first time an additional training session ran through your usual time for dinner, you didn’t let yourself be upset. 

That evening, you heard a knock on your door and knew it was her. Natasha's tired eyes were worried and full of unspoken guilt. You pulled her towards you with a feeling of sudden urgency and happiness that came from the simplicity of seeing her standing there.

You kissed her for a long moment and Natasha met your lips with eager relief. Then, you led her to your sofa, ignoring her protests as you insisted on trying to find enough food in your rarely used kitchen to constitute a meal for her. 

She slept in your bed that night, curled familiarly into the space next to you. You listened to her steady breathing and knew that you loved her in a way that wouldn’t change.

Her missions got longer. Natasha was trusted with more. She saved more lives with each mission and you watched her start to forgive herself for the things she could barely say aloud.

You did your best to accept that Natasha might choose a future that didn’t include you so easily. She was exceptional, in her kindness, bravery and skill. 

You knew Natasha could feel the impending future too. The busier she became with work, the more effort she made to spend every other moment with you.

You felt like a pocket of steadiness in her world of chaos. You knew it was a privilege.

.

You can't always hold onto your home.

.

Natasha was given a long-term undercover mission. When she told you about it, you felt a horrible sinking in your chest. It was a feeling that you’d been anticipating.

You knew what her job meant and you knew her talent at it. 

All you could really think about in that moment was that she’d clearly been crying. Her shaky breathing stuttered as she tried to tell you the news. 

You wondered if you knew her so well, or if she wasn’t trying to hide at all from you anymore.

You hugged her tightly and tried to absolve her of her guilt. 

She was going to miss your next Christmas. 

You kissed her forehead and told her that you loved her. Natasha tangled her fingers with your own. She squeezed your hand tight. She kissed the back of your hand softly.

The next day, you walked her to the airstrip. You felt unnaturally still as you tried to stop your chest from heaving with a loss it could already feel. 

Before she walked onto the jet, Natasha turned around. Her small, awkward wave echoed your own. You watched her braids hit her back as she turned again and walked onto the aircraft.

.

Months passed.

You lived a strange empty life.

You didn’t remember the world before Natasha, you still expected to see her at every mealtime.

Christmas day arrived.

You decorated your small plastic tree with the paper dolls that had hung above your TV for nearly two years. You watched a Christmas movie that was someone else's favourite.

.

On the 26th of December, you got a phone call. It was Clint and it was the middle of the night. You were in your car before he’d finished talking. 

.

Home is the place that you are loved.

.

You found her about a mile from the Shield base, it was just past midnight. 

Natasha was walking along the side of the river with her hood up, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights. 

She noticed you almost immediately. She came to a stop, eyes wary and shoulders braced.

You gave a small, awkward wave and she remembered herself. 

She moved toward you, pace quick. 

When she reached you, her head pressed desperately against your thick winter jacket. 

You kissed the soft fabric of her green hood and held her tight.

The sound of the river and the shaking of her cries. 

.

Home was in the sound of the river and the shaking of her cries.

[please-destroy]

Snowglobe

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: ~500

.

You had to hurry to catch up with her. Natasha was halfway down the next street before you’d even left the museum. 

‘Wait up.’ You said breathlessly. Natasha stopped in her tracks, turning to you with an easy smile. 

‘Where did you go?’ She teased, head tilting familiarly. 

You offered out the gift wordlessly. 

Natasha stared down at your hands. Her expression filled with surprise, muted shock. A silence followed.

'No. Don’t.’ Natasha said at last, pushing it back towards you. 

You laughed unthinkingly, not sensing the tug of something else beneath her words.

‘It’s not that bad.’ You teased, shaking the snowglobe slightly.

Natasha shook her head and you saw the confusion cross her face.

‘It’s not. That’s not -’ She stumbled uncharacteristically on her words. Loose strands of hair escaped her braid; they blew softly in the cold wind.

Your eyes softened as you watched her, as you began to realise.

‘I should have gotten you something better.’ You apologised gently. ‘I just saw it in the gift shop and I wanted you to have it.’

Natasha glanced up at you, eyes piercing with something you didn’t recognise.

‘Why?’ She asked bluntly. 

You searched her face, making sure you answered the right question. 

‘Because I love you.’ You told her slowly.

Natasha blinked in surprise. She blinked again. You watched her hesitate, watched her try and find the right words. She stared deeply at the snowglobe resting in your open palms.

‘It’s for me?’ She asked at last, voice brimming with something new. Something secretly hopeful.

‘Yes.’ You promised, kissing her quickly. Tears pricked your eyes. You hadn’t realised. This was brand new for her.

.

Pieces clicked together, like some abstract jigsaw. 

Every date you went on, she saved the cinema ticket, the admission pass, the receipt. 

‘Just making memories.’ She’d told you once with a shrug. 

.

‘Like a gift?’ Natasha checked, staring at your hands like they held something momentous.

‘Yes.’ You repeated, trying not to let emotion crack into your voice.

Natasha tore her eyes away from the snowglobe. She looked up at you uncertainly. Her eyes were glistening.

‘What do I do with it?’ She asked in a low voice. 

Your heart tugged at the simple question. Your mind burned with the question. Had no-one ever given her one before? You already knew the answer.

 You tried to give a casual shrug as you offered the snowglobe out once more.

‘Keep it?’ You suggested, lightly bumping your hip against hers through the thick fabric of her coat. 

Natasha’s shy smile grew as she took the gift. 

She held it tightly in her gloved hands as you started walking together along the street.

Before you turned the next corner, Natasha slowed her pace and you turned to look at her questioningly.

‘I love you too.’ She said hurriedly, brushing her lips against your cheek. ‘I love you too.’ 

Natasha’s past made your chest ache. You smiled anyway.

You held open every single door between the street and your apartment. 

Natasha’s cheeks glowed with warmth. 

She kept the snowglobe clutched tight against her winter coat, smiling like it was her first Christmas.

[please-destroy]

Mittens

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

Tony laughed loudly when he first saw the grey woollen hat. 

It had a white pom pom on the end and Tony snorted when he caught sight of it bouncing.

Natasha paused momentarily and her eyes flickered over to him, sipping coffee as he read over a Stark Pad.

‘Sorry.’ He grinned unashamedly. ‘It’s just not very Black Widow.’

Natasha rolled her eyes pointedly, before letting your hesitant tug on her hand pull her away.

In the elevator, you watched the quiet embarrassment roll through her. Natasha regarded herself in the mirrored walls as you descended the skyscraper. Her eyes lingered on the hat. 

Her gaze wasn’t critical. You almost wished it was. There was something childish in her vulnerability. You read the indecision in the way she bit her lip. 

Your heart seized with a strange sadness. You’d never really seen how Natasha viewed herself, not until then. Tony’s comment had thrown her completely off.

Just before you reached the ground floor, Natasha’s hand raised to remove the hat. You instinctively lifted your fingers to brush her wrist. She froze at your touch.

‘Leave it.’ You murmured, taking the moment for a brief kiss of her cheek. ‘You look great.’

Her voice was husky in uncertain disagreement.

‘I look ridiculous.’

‘You look cute.’ You promised truthfully, your lips lingering next to her cheek. ‘That’s not a crime.’

Natasha took a small breath and you heard the shakiness of it. Your arm wrapped around her side. 

You met her gaze in the mirror, just before the doors parted.

‘Cute.’ You repeated, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled as her smile returned. 

.

You couldn’t be certain, but you had a suspicion that the moment in the elevator didn’t leave Natasha’s mind. You knew for sure that it didn’t leave yours.

You settled together into your planned day of Christmas shopping as you wandered through the cold, busy streets. You passed a clothes store with a large winter sale on, and both slowed down to peer into the window. Inside the store, you walked thoughtlessly in sync. Together, you roamed through the aisles with that easy familiarity that comes with time. 

When you found the mittens, you held them up questioningly to her. They were the same silver grey as her woolen hat.

Natasha’s face smoothed immediately. You watched her begin to dismiss your suggestion automatically as a joke. 

Then, you saw the same lingering uncertainty return to her face.

‘I don’t know.’ She admitted suddenly and her voice was raw. 

Customers weaved around you, uninterested in anything but the retail deals on offer.

‘I’ve never had mittens before.’ Natasha told you, unwarranted embarrassment flitting into her expression. 

Your stomach flipped and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was her shyness at such a minor secret.

‘Then, these are a must buy.’ You determined with sudden decisiveness, taking her hand and leading her to the checkout.

.

The cashier easily read your relationship as you approached the counter. Despite the bustle around you, she gave you both a small smile, handing the mittens purposefully over to Natasha.

Maybe it was the cold, but Natasha’s cheeks were glowing pink before you’d left the store.

Her woolen mittens matched her hat. Her pleased smile matched her eyes.

That was when you decided that the day was going to be something else.

.

Natasha’s brow furrowed in confusion when your course altered. You led her purposefully across the busy street, away from the storefronts. 

She first protested as you weaved through the pop up stalls, selling anything from winter themed street-food to Christmas tree baubles. She reminded you about the presents that you both still needed to buy.

As you approached the ice rink, Natasha stopped in her tracks entirely. She stood a few feet away from you with wide eyes.

Her head shook slowly. 

‘No.’ She whispered, her mittens slipping self consciously into her coat pockets. ‘I don’t know how.’

You shrugged, keeping your eyes steady on her.

‘We don’t have to.’ You promised, never wanting to scare her. 

You closed the distance between you carefully. Natasha’s lips were pressed together. The same nervous indecision worried her expression. 

‘I don’t know how.’ She repeated in a small voice, the words almost an apology.

You brushed her shoulders gently.

‘That’s not a crime.’ You hummed softly. ‘Do you want to try?’

Natasha’s stare was sudden and piercing. There was something unashamed now about her exposed vulnerability. She didn’t mind that you had seen her quiet fear.  

Pride stamped your chest as you realised that Natasha knew you were on her team.

You anticipated her answer before she said it.

Before anything else, Natasha was brave.

‘Okay.’ She determined, a soft mitten seeking out your own gloved hand.

.

The next few minutes moved with surprising simplicity. You brought back the skates from the rental desk.

You laced up your pair quickly, excited to get on the ice.

Natasha started laughing gently beside you.

You looked over and caught her grin. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. She raised her mittened hands helplessly and you started smiling too.

You knelt before her, tying up her laces with extra care. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha murmured as you finished. You glanced up, surprised by the rush of warmth you felt from her gaze. 

A mitten brushed your cheek softly, and you felt your smile widen at the touch.

.

As you stepped onto the ice, Natasha’s grip was tight on your hand. 

The fairy lights above threaded together like a wedding arch.

You took an extra step forward, ready to skate. 

Natasha hesitated and you turned around, ready to skate slowly backwards as she practiced.

Your breath caught as you watched the lights sparkle in her eyes. The green and gold dappled together and Natasha seemed ethereal.

You could read the worry on her face before she said it aloud.

There was something inexplicable about the glowing softness of her. The woolen hat, the ringlets, the reddened cheeks.

Natasha’s lips parted as she exhaled anxiously.

‘I love you.’ You told her, because it was the only thing to do.

Natasha’s breath caught and her eyes sparkled impossibly more.

‘That’s not a crime.’ She considered aloud, her grin teasing.

You kissed her gently, wanting to live in this moment forever. 

She tasted much warmer than you’d expected. 

When your lips parted, Natasha hummed in satisfaction. Her forehead affectionately touched yours. The feeling of being entirely wanted spread over you like a blanket.

Natasha wobbled on the ice, but you held her steady. 

Christmas music crackled over the overhead speakers.

For a moment, there were only the bright lights and the pair of you. 

Then, with alarming speed, two teenagers skated past. You both startled.

Natasha sighed gently as she extricated herself from your hold. 

‘Come on.’ She said, taking your hand resolutely in her mittened one.

‘It’s time to go fall on my ass.’

[please-destroy]

A Place To Be

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

.

You’d been training for this your whole life. 

It had taken effort, determination and skill to become one of the best Shield agents. It was a long journey but you were starting to be proud of the person you’d become. 

You hadn’t ever thought about one day becoming an Avenger, it didn’t seem like something that could be possible. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing when you were called to Fury’s office. Your mouth hung open as he explained that the request to join had come from a member of the team itself. 

Fury had gone on to outline your new training regime and the changes that this promotion would involve. Every detail, from moving to the Avengers Tower to training with Captain America felt like a dream.

You lay that night, your final night in the Shield Residential Quarters, and stared up at the familiar grey ceiling. It was hard to sleep, the events of the day had already felt like a perfect dream. You thought about the request to join. You felt confident it must have been Clint Barton. 

You’d trained in the presence of both Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton before and you’d naturally excelled at target practice, especially from long distances. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d notice.

.

Moving into the Avengers Tower was daunting. Carrying a rucksack with your most prized possession, you gazed around at the bright modern interiors. 

You’d disembarked from a Quinjet on the roof, before being directed through the building by the AI system. Standing there in a communal living room, expecting  your arrival were the other Avengers. 

You were surprised by the openness of the team to a new recruit. Each person greeted you with real warmth when they met you for the first time.

Natasha’s enthusiasm was the most muted. From the beginning, you noticed a carefulness whenever she addressed you. She gave you a small wave in greeting, instead of the hug or handshake offered by the others. She held back quietly as the team asked you questions and welcomed you to the building. 

You worried self consciously that she could tell just how excited you were to meet her properly. It was impossible to work at a place like Shield without admiring or envying the legend of the Black Widow from afar. Even small details from her missions spread like wildfire around that organisation. You’d heard every impressive rumour about Natasha Romanoff. 

Your paths had barely crossed during her time at Shield, but Natasha had always been unforgettable. 

You remembered the first time she’d smiled at you. It was during one of the target practice sessions that you’d excelled at. Clint had whooped loudly when you’d made an unlikely shot. The loud celebratory noise should have been what you remembered most from that session. But instead, it was Natasha’s pleased smile, arms crossed from where she stood quietly by the door. 

She’d looked beautiful. It had struck you then, and it still struck you now. 

Secretly, more than any other worry you had about Natasha’s quiet behaviour. You were afraid that maybe, despite your best efforts, she could tell you had a crush.

.

Your first in-the-field mission as part of the Avengers was an opportunity to shadow Natasha through an intel gathering assignment. 

You obediently hurried to the briefing room, following an announcement from the building’s AI that an Avengers meeting had been called. You sat in the chair next to Tony, and did your best to focus as the mission was outlined. 

You tried not to look too pleased as the realisation dawned on you that it was a mission for you to join. You were keen for an opportunity to prove yourself as part of the team.

.

Natasha approached you as soon as the meeting was done. You gave her a small smile.

‘I thought wearing necklaces was against Shield protocol.’ Natasha told you bluntly. The smile dropped from your face.

‘Yes. But this is the Avengers. (Y/N)’s playing in the big leagues now.’ Tony reminded her, brushing past the pair of you to exit the room.

‘I’ll keep it tucked under my clothes.’ You tried to assure her, hand reaching automatically to touch the silver charm around your neck. Natasha’s eyes were drawn to the movement. Your throat tightened at her attention.

‘It was from someone who cares about me.’ You added quietly, unable to help being a little defensive.

Natasha’s eyes glanced briefly back to your face. She looked thoughtful.

‘Lucky you.’ She murmured after a moment. You stood dumbly, watching her leave and feeling entirely off balance from the encounter.

.

Your first mission as an Avenger was a shitshow right from the start. 

Unexpected threats, incorrect mission information and a thunderstorm. 

You felt out of your depth from the very beginning. Soon enough, the fatigue of relentless combat began to wear you down even further. 

Natasha led you through the mission with ruthless efficiency. She undoubtedly kept you alive that day. She calmly refused offers of back-up over the comms. Her assuredness was almost undermined by the bullets ripping through the air above your heads. 

She was the best fighter you’d ever seen up close. She moved with a fluidity that reminded you of dance choreography. She never seemed to hesitate, moving from one action into the next. 

You did exactly what you were told; you trusted her instincts more than you trusted yourself.

.

The only time you felt at all useful was at the end of the mission, when you drove the car back to the pick up point.

Natasha had successfully retrieved the information but at the cost of a knife wound to the thigh.

She was dressing the wound herself, using the first aid kit found in the car’s glove compartment. You watched her carefully from the corner of your eye. Despite your worry about her injury and your own poor performance during the mission; you took a moment to marvel at how impressive Natasha had been to watch. She made being brave look easy.

It was only when Natasha’s leg seemed completely bandaged that you felt confident enough to talk. You reminded her quietly about the painkillers that she hadn’t yet touched.

Natasha refused, waving her red-stained hand back at you tiredly. You pressed your lips together, trying to think of a way to change her mind. You fiddled with your necklace absentmindedly, one hand on the wheel. 

‘You need them more.’  Natasha told you, glancing obviously at your own swollen wrist. 

You felt sudden unexpected heat burn your cheeks. Your wrist injury had come from an embarrassing trip and fall. Natasha’s leg wound had come from highly skilled hand to hand combat. Embarrassment flooded you as you realised how incompetent you must seem to her.

You took the painkillers silently and didn’t speak for the rest of the drive. 

.

For the rest of the day following that mission, you were dreading hearing Natasha’s report about your performance. It kept you up that night, like the stress of an upcoming exam result. You knew it couldn’t be good. Natasha clearly thought that you couldn’t even handle a swollen wrist.

You couldn’t have been more surprised when Steve’s hand rested kindly on your shoulder the next afternoon.

‘Sounds like you survived quite the mission.’ He told you simply. ‘Nat said you coped really well, all things considered. Just need a bit more practice with heavy fire scenarios.’

You only nodded in response, startled by the feedback. You wondered if that was what Natasha had really told him. You felt a growing certainty in the pit of your stomach that Steve had censored her report to be kind. 

You imagined Natasha asking Clint why he’d wanted you to join the team. You couldn’t get the image out of your head. It felt too plausible.

.

The next time you saw Natasha was in the communal kitchen area. She hesitated when she looked at you. You felt embarrassed when she glanced down at your now bandaged wrist. The silence between you lengthened uncomfortably. 

After that, you were purposefully quieter around Natasha, a weird kind of shame filling you whenever you caught her eye.

Natasha reflected your energy perfectly back. You often made elevator journeys together in that tense silence that always seemed to linger between you. You’d start to play with your necklace awkwardly and Natasha’s eyes would follow the movement.

Then, you’d think back to her chastisement about wearing it before that first mission and embarrassment would flood you again. 

.

Soon enough, life at the Avengers Tower began to settle into something like routine. The living quarters and regular team practice were effective in helping you get to know your teammates. You began to consider the other Avengers as some of your closest friends. 

As winter approached, you started to take on occasional planned missions with different individual members of the team. You didn’t get assigned again to Natasha. You tried not to think about why.

Though Natasha never avoided you, her carefully neutral tone told you that the awkwardness of your first mission together had not been overcome. 

.

The others definitely noticed the tension between the pair of you. It stood out against your comfortable dynamics of the rest of the group.

Soon, you started to notice their schemes to get the pair of you closer. 

Tony kept trying to encourage Natasha to give you flying lessons in the Quinjet. Every week Steve suggested that you partner up together for some additional training exercise. 

You never said no and neither did she. You never followed up on the suggested plans either. You let them float away, schedules becoming full at the last minute.

.

By the time December rolled around, you’d barely shared a handful of sentences with Natasha and every single one of them had been work-related.

So, when Tony held out an upturned Iron Man helmet filled with folded pieces of paper and told you to pick out your Secret Santa name, there was only one Avenger that you didn’t want to get.

‘This says Natasha.’ You eyed the paper suspiciously, wondering if it was bad luck or another sneaky scheme by the rest of the team to encourage the pair of you to make friends. ‘Do all the other papers say Natasha too?’

Tony snorted. ‘Please. If I was going to cheat at Secret Santa, then all the names in there would be mine.’ He snatched the helmet back before you could see for yourself and hurried away along the corridor.

You never got a definitive answer about the cheating. 

.

You did get a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Bruce when you asked him quietly for gift ideas for Natasha. 

You were trying not to let the upcoming Secret Santa ruin the holidays for you. But the prospect of buying Natasha a present was beyond intimidating.

Bruce’s first story didn’t help you at all. He told you about the birthday party that the team had planned for Natasha the year before. Clint had loudly protested the idea from the start. He’d argued it was pointless, given that no-one even knew her correct birthday. 

Still, the plan had gone ahead with the surprise party scheduled for an upcoming Saturday. Tony had sourced several extravagant presents on behalf of the team. 

You perked up at this part of Bruce’s story, hoping to get some inspiration for Secret Santa. 

Bruce mentioned the full range of brand new Stark industries tech that had been procured as presents and your hope flattened out. He hadn’t been kidding about extravagant.

Natasha must have gotten wind of the team’s intentions. She disappeared without a trace on the Friday night before the party. She reappeared back in the Tower on the following Monday morning, as if she’d never left.

Within an hour of her return, all the expensive waiting wrapped presents with her name on them had disappeared from the Tower. 

Tony still made occasional comments about it under his breath, but no one had ever addressed it directly with her. When Natasha didn’t want to talk about something, it was hard to bring it up.

Your nervousness shifted now into a feeling of dread. You felt frustrated at the practical stranger that you’d only ever wanted to like you. You were certain now that Natasha was going to hate whatever you bought her.

.

After the ominous story from Bruce, you spent the next few evenings alone in your room, scrolling endlessly through online lists for gift ideas. 

It was during one of these evenings that Natasha burst into your room unexpectedly.

Her eyes scanned the space, finding you instantly. She didn’t move closer.

‘I have you for Secret Santa.’ Natasha informed you tensely. You fought the annoyance that bubbled up inside you at her stressed tone. You weren’t hard to buy presents for, especially not compared to her.

‘Right.’ You replied, trying to keep your own tone calm.

‘What do you want?’ Natasha asked directly, her eyes focusing intensely on yours. You stared back at her, unable to believe what she’d just asked. You felt like another mission she’d been assigned to.

Something in you snapped, like a release of tension from every silent elevator ride you’d ever shared with her.

‘Just get me whatever you’d like me to have, Natasha.’ You replied harshly. ‘That’s exactly what I want.’

Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. You watched her try to assess your tone and your words. You didn’t like the feeling of it.

You looked away, staring back at the laptop screen and trying to blink away the embarrassing tears of frustration. 

Natasha left then. You shut your laptop and covered your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. You hated that she saw you as such an inconvenience.

Now, you were certain you’d be getting an information pamphlet on Not Being Such A Little Bitch for Christmas.

In the end, you asked Clint for help. He gave you exactly one suggestion and you took it tiredly. A bottle of vodka was about as impersonal as Natasha felt to you these days anyway.

.

The team did the gift exchange on the 23rd of December, before those with holiday plans needed to leave. You certainly didn’t have any plans to head away for. You’d already moved away to work for Shield, and then again for this job. No one you knew even lived on this side of the country. 

You didn’t mind too much, in fact you were beginning to look forward to it. Eating a takeout meal in the Avengers Tower seemed like a novel enough way to spend the holiday.

The present exchange had a warm atmosphere from the start. The tacky plastic Christmas tree that Clint had obviously found in a dollar store seemed more cheerful than the professionally decorated one that lived in the main lobby. 

Your eyes kept flickering over to Natasha as she played with the fake pine needles absentmindedly. Her hair was tied back, not in its typical braid, but in a loose ponytail. It flicked over her shoulder every time she glanced between the little tree and the rest of the team. 

She’d dressed casually for the event, wearing black jeans, a black top and an oversized red hoodie. Her small smile was soft and her shoulders seemed relaxed. It was the first time you’d ever seen her look so unguarded.

You and Natasha were the last to exchange your presents. What you already knew became clear to the team. You’d both gotten each other in the Secret Santa draw. You swapped the gifts carefully. 

‘You first.’ Natasha nodded, something surprisingly tentative in her expression.

Natasha’s gift was small. Not wrapped, it sat in a plain gift bag. There was a small box and a white piece of card. You read the card first. 

‘I knew you’d make a great Avenger. 

Thanks for proving me right. 

Natasha.’

The words were simple, her signature looped itself prettily across the bottom of the card.

Your heart dropped in surprise. Your eyes found Natasha’s and a hot rush of emotion rose up inside you. Natasha gave you her small smile, it looked almost shy. 

She’d had faith in you from the start. She’d been the one to request your transfer into the team. You hadn’t even thought she’d remembered you at Shield. The smile she’d once given you in the training room flashed through your mind.

The heat rushed to your cheeks. You realised how much of her personality had gotten lost in translation. You remembered her offering you painkillers when you were hurt. You’d heard criticism in her kindness. You hadn’t been fair at all.

She nodded once at the box in your lap and you remembered the gift itself. You opened the box hesitantly, aware of the others’ curious stares.

Inside the box was a necklace. Your breathing shallowed out as you processed it. The charm was the same red hourglass that was the insignia of the Black Widow. 

You wiped the unexpected tears from your face. You caught Natasha’s look of anticipation and tried to smile back. Your ‘Thank You’ got lodged in your throat.

Natasha’s smile widened a little. She moved now to open your present. 

The change inside of you was abrupt. Suddenly, the world moved in awful slow motion. You felt hot shame build up inside your throat. 

You watched her pull the bottle out of the badly wrapped packaging. You watched her swallow as she realised what it was. Disappointment flickered briefly over her face before her expression shuttered itself into a neutral one.

You could tell she was aware of the onlookers. Natasha laughed once, dryly.

‘Thanks.’ She said to you, eyes still on the bottle. Her voice rasped. ‘I do like vodka.’

Now, an awkward apology got caught in your throat. Your hand wrapped itself tightly around the velvet necklace box. The room was quiet, you watched Natasha’s shoulders subtly tense.

‘Tony, maybe it’s time to order the takeout.’ Bruce suggested suddenly. All at once, the room around you became busy again. 

Natasha excused herself immediately to put her gift in her room. Her smile seemed honest, but you caught the emptiness behind her eyes when she turned away. 

Your gaze trailed after her until Tony blocked your view abruptly, asking if you wanted any wontons.

.

The urgent call for the Avengers to assemble came before the takeout had even been ordered. 

You were the only one left behind. There was no time to even debate you joining them; the team had left the Tower immediately. The emergency was upstate and two civilians had already been killed. There wasn’t even time to include you on the comms.

You spent the rest of the day waiting worriedly. You watched the news just to have a way to feel connected. 

You kept hold of the jewellery box, your thumb rubbing worried circles against the velvet.

The All Clear update only came through in the evening. You finally called in the takeout order, knowing the whole team would be starving upon their arrival. 

Everyone, except for Clint and Natasha, entered together. Your eyes scanned the elevator worriedly as it opened up on the floor.

‘Clint had to head straight to his folks for Christmas.’ Steve told you quickly, noticing your obvious concern. ‘I guess Natasha went with him.’

Disappointment flooded you. Clint wasn’t due back for a full week. You wondered if Natasha would be away for that long too.

You ate in silence, brooding over your missed chance to even thank her properly. You owed Natasha more than one apology. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket midway through the meal.

You slid it out to see a text from Clint.

‘Gone straight home for Christmas with family. Can you check Tasha got back safe?’

You read the text over again unnecessarily. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and quietly excused yourself from the group.

.

You headed straight to Natasha’s rooms in the Tower, two floors down in the elevator. You tried hesitantly to enter, expecting the door to be locked. But, the handle turned.

Natasha was sitting on the wide windowsill. Her eyes were rimmed red and she was staring out at the skyline of New York. You saw the bottle of vodka balanced between her legs, already half drunk. You felt sick.

She turned at the sound of you. Her long hair hung loose, framing her face. Her smile was too sad to seem genuine. 

The room felt too quiet.

‘I’m sorry.’ You told her immediately, rushing out the words that you’d been wanting to say all day.

‘For what?’ She asked softly. You couldn’t tell from her head tilt if the question was genuine.

‘I should have.’ You began to answer anyway, gesturing over at the vodka bottle. ‘I should have.’ You hesitated, trying to find the right words.

‘That was the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.’ Natasha told you suddenly. 

Disbelief clouded your mind for a moment. You paused in confusion.

‘It’s the only Christmas present I’ve ever had.’ Natasha added quietly, the side of her head resting against the pane of glass.

‘I thought you didn’t like presents.’ You admitted after a moment. Natasha’s eyebrow raised and you could feel her surprise at your words. 

‘Bruce told me about your almost birthday party.’ 

Natasha laughed once then. The laugh was genuine but the tone of it made you feel sick.

‘My mother abandoned me in the street. Why do I need a present for that?’ The hurt in the words stung sharply.

Natasha shut her mouth quickly then and you could tell that she was fighting not to cry. You watched her jaw tense. A tear rolled down her cheek and she rubbed it away. 

Your heart ached sharply. You wondered if anyone really knew Natasha. If everyone made assumptions, like you. 

You walked across the room. You noticed how harshly her hand had touched her cheek, seeing the reddened mark from the contact. 

You noticed her shoulders stiffen slightly at your proximity.

‘I think you’re exceptional.’ You told her softly, sitting along the same windowsill and facing her.

Natasha snorted, her eyes drifted between the view of New York and you.

‘That’s because I can kick your ass.’ She said lightly. You watched her try to crack a smile to relieve the tension. 

You stretched your leg out slowly and nudged hers with it. Natasha’s eyes met yours immediately in response, the half smile frozen on her lips.

‘No.’ You said firmly. ‘It’s because you are so kind.’

Natasha blinked at you in surprise. A frown pulled at the edge of her mouth, her disagreement was immediate.

‘You don’t know that.’ She muttered harshly. ‘I’ve done terrible things.’

Her thumb traced the glass rim of the open vodka bottle as she looked down at it.

‘Where did those birthday presents go then?’ You asked, already having guessed the answer.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

‘Those were ridiculous. Too expensive. Tony went beyond overboard.’ She told you, focusing completely on the vodka bottle now.

‘Someone always needs them more’ You murmured, echoing the words she’d once told you when you’d offered her painkillers. 

Natasha’s look was appraising as it focused back on you. Her eyes widened slightly and you wondered if it was at the accuracy of your memory or your guess.

Her mouth relaxed almost imperceptibly.

‘Not to mention this.’ You continued quietly, opening the small velvet box that you’d been carrying around all day. Your fingers trailed along the necklace chain.

‘I just figured you liked jewellery.’ Natasha muttered and her eyes glanced over to the necklace that you were wearing.

‘It’s perfect.’ You told her as you undid the clasp of the necklace around your neck, removing it and placing it on the window ledge between you. 

Slowly, you took the new necklace out of its box and began to loop it around your neck.

‘You don’t have to do that.’ Natasha told you, looking exhausted and embarrassed all at once. She watched you warily.

You ignored her, finally managing to hook the clasp together. 

Then, you moved to stand behind her.

‘Lift your hair.’ You told her softly. 

Natasha looked up at you, obviously confused. You picked up your old necklace from the window ledge.

‘No.’ She refused as the realisation hit her. 

You stayed steady in your resolve, waiting quietly. 

Natasha’s green eyes studied you, she looked uncertain. After a long moment, she lifted her hair up. 

You looped the necklace around her neck and fastened it carefully. Your fingers brushed her skin and you felt her shiver slightly.

Once you were done, you rested your hand tentatively on her shoulder. Natasha was only wearing her black top now and you could feel the warmth of her through the fabric. 

‘Happy Christmas, from someone who cares about you.’ You told her simply. 

You wished desperately that you had written it on a card like she had. You felt exposed as your words hung for a moment in the air between you. 

Then, Natasha’s hand moved silently to cover your own, holding it still against her shoulder. Your breath caught.

‘You want some?’ Natasha said after a moment, her knee nudging the vodka bottle.

.

That year was the first time you didn’t have any place to be for Christmas. 

So, you found one with Natasha.

[please-destroy]

Temper Temper

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + Family.

Word Count 1.4k

Follows on from the last few stories I've posted on here.

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‘She might have had a good reason.’ You reminded Natasha as she gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. You sent a prayer ahead to Yelena waiting for you in the school office. Natasha had been seething since she’d received the call about the fight.

‘It’s her temper.’ Natasha muttered quietly as she pulled into a space in the school’s parking lot. You leaned over, running your hand soothingly along her tense shoulder. Natasha’s eyes closed for a brief moment.

‘She’s got fire.’ You corrected, knowing how easily Natasha saw her own fears reflected back in her daughter. ‘Just like you.’ You reminded her softly.

Natasha let out a long breath.

‘If she hurt someone-’ She whispered.

‘Let’s wait for the facts.’ You interceded, brushing your thumb over her wedding ring absentmindedly. ‘But, even if she did.’ You paused, making sure Natasha was looking at you. ‘That’s not on you.’

Natasha’s lips pressed together and she didn’t reply. You didn’t push your point any further.

Yelena was easy to spot, sitting outside the principal’s office. Her hair was a deep shade of blue and it stood out against the bland beige walls of the hallway. She looked over at the sound of your footsteps. You saw the nervous anticipation on her face as she caught Natasha’s expression.

To anyone else, your wife was the picture of careful neutrality. Yelena knew better than to believe it, you watched her swallow nervously. You felt a small spike of anxiety as you noticed the cut on her lower lip. It had swollen slightly, making her look like she was pouting. She seemed younger than ever.

You slowed slightly whilst Natasha walked directly over. She moved to stand directly in front of Yelena, imposing despite the fact they were nearly the same height when both standing. Yelena’s chin tilted up defiantly and you tried to prepare yourself. 

‘You got in a fight.’ Natasha stated quietly, letting her disappointment seep into the air.

Yelena glanced at you, eyes suddenly filled with nerves. 

‘That’s not what happened.’ She hurried out. ‘Those girls were-’

‘I didn’t ask for an excuse.’ Natasha interrupted, voice deceptively calm. ‘Those girls are a grade younger than you.’

You moved forward, seeing some of the pieces that they were both missing. You were sure Yelena had been provoked, you were certain Natasha’s anger came from fear of her own influence. 

Yelena always wanted to hear stories about Natasha’s superhero life. Now, she was getting into physical fights. It wasn’t hard for Natasha to find a correlation.

The sound of footsteps behind you drew your attention along with Natasha’s and Yelena’s. The principal gave you a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

He moved past you, unlocking his office door and holding it open for you all to enter. You purposefully moved to walk in between your wife and your daughter. 

Natasha took your hand automatically as it brushed hers. You reached for Yelena’s but she yanked it back. 

Quiet concern filled you. Getting into a fight at school was bad, but losing Yelena’s trust was going to be much worse.

There was a tense silence as you all took your seats in the school office. The principal leaned forward on his desk, fingers drumming out a rhythm on the hard surface. Natasha’s jaw tightened and you knew the sound was setting her on edge.

‘Today has not been a good day.’ He hummed out thoughtfully to the room and you tried to swallow your own annoyance at his officious tone. Unable to help it, your arm moved comfortingly around the back of Yelena’s chair. You heard her breathe a little steadier. 

‘Are the other girls okay?’ Natasha asked suddenly, voice tight. The principal nodded.

‘Relatively.’ He answered and his gaze flickered to Yelena. 

‘And you?’ He asked simply.

‘Fine.’ She replied bluntly, sitting stiffly in the chair. 

‘There are going to be big changes, going forward.’ He addressed you and Natasha now. ‘This will not happen again.’

Natasha nodded immediately, shooting another disappointed look over at Yelena. You resolved to enforce some space between them as soon as this meeting was over. Everyone needed a moment to calm down.

‘I hope you’re still happy to keep Yelena enrolled here.’ The principal continued seriously. ‘She really is a wonderful student.’

Natasha froze next to you. You glanced at Yelena in confusion, but she kept staring forward, obviously unwilling to engage.

‘Why wouldn’t we?’ You prompted carefully. 

‘We think the bullying has been going on for months.’ The principal informed you in a softer tone. Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable seat.

‘The what?’ Natasha asked now, and you could hear the shock in her voice. Your heart started sinking before the principal confirmed it.

‘There’s been a social media campaign by several students targeting your daughter.’ The principal answered bluntly. 

Natasha was out of her chair before you could think of moving, going to stand next to Yelena. There were many moments when Natasha seemed achingly maternal. Her instinctive need to protect her daughter was the most obvious to see.

‘What sort of campaign?’ You asked the principal,, not quite sure you were ready to hear the answer.

‘It’s nothing.’ Yelena muttered now, furiously avoiding Natasha’s searching gaze.

‘From what I can gather, it was mainly focused on your wife.’ The principal informed you quietly. 

‘No.’ Natasha breathed out.

Her hand touched Yelena’s shoulder and you watched as Yelena flinched away from the comforting touch.

The principal’s eyes scanned the scene and he nodded to himself once. 

‘I’ll give you a moment.’ He said, rising from his chair and moving to leave the room.

The door had barely shut before Yelena spoke up.

‘Don’t make this a big deal.’ She directed to the pair of you quietly, with an enforced stillness similar to her mother’s earlier . ‘It was just some stupid comments online.’

‘Did they upset you?’ You asked her bluntly, already anticipating how much Yelena was going to try and minimise the incident. 

There was a slight pause and then Yelena nodded curtly.

‘I’m going to kill them.’ Natasha murmured and her hand fell from its position hovering above Yelena’s shoulder. 

You stood up before she could make a move for the door.

You touched Natasha’s arm, trying to calm the fresh panic you could see in her eyes. Her gaze clung to you, trying to ground herself. 

You looked back reassuringly at your wife, promising to fix what she didn’t know how. 

You turned to address your daughter, feeling the familiar uncertainty of a new parenting situation.

‘You are so brave.’ You told Yelena simply, finally getting her to raise her head and look back at you. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could tell us.’ 

Yelena’s gaze flickered to Natasha and then back to you. You all understood what she didn’t say. Natasha curled in on herself subtly. You brushed along her tense shoulders soothingly.

‘I just got confused.’ Yelena mumbled now, obviously on the verge of tears. ‘I didn’t think they’d actually do anything.’

Now, when she looked at Natasha, her stare was pleading. Yelena had always wanted to be like her Mom. 

‘I didn’t hit them back or anything Mom, I swear.’ 

Natasha knelt down in front of Yelena’s chair. Yelena looked down at her Mom now. Natasha’s chin tilted upwards as she started to speak.

‘I’m sorry.’ Natasha said abruptly, the words a little choked. Her hand reached up, thumb brushing Yelena’s cheek. 

‘I’m so proud of you.’ Natasha told Yelena softly. 

Yelena’s expression relaxed and you knew it was the only thing she’d wanted to hear. 

‘Thanks Mom.’ She said shyly, a tiny smile growing on her face.

You moved forward too, your other hand moving to rest on Yelena’s nearest shoulder. Yelena flinched obviously and then stilled herself purposefully.

The realisation hit Natasha first. She groaned exaggeratedly. Your gaze flickered in confusion between the pair of them. 

‘Please tell me you haven’t been hiding an injury this whole time.’ Natasha prompted teasingly.

‘I haven’t been hiding an injury this whole time.’ Yelena parroted back. Her wide smile was mischievous as Natasha rolled her eyes at the blatant lie. 

‘Why am I always taking someone to the Emergency Room?’ You said loudly, sighing dramatically as you fished out your car keys from your pocket.

‘Because we both have tempers.’ Yelena sang back to you, repeating one of Natasha’s favourite declarations.

‘No.’ Natasha corrected suddenly. She gave you an affectionate glance and your heart filled with a tender rush of love. 

‘We’ve both got fire.’

[please-destroy]

Legacy

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + Family

Word Count: 1.7k

You can definitely read this on its own. Or it can follow on from the last few stories I've posted.

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You heard the front door slam and winced automatically. Every day seemed to hold another fight between your daughter and your wife.

When Natasha had told you she was picking your daughter up from school, you’d bitten your tongue. You heard the raised voices in the hallway and sighed slowly.

You braced yourself as you rose to join. This didn’t feel like much of a family these days. You felt like more of a peacekeeper than a parent or a partner.

You paused behind the closed door when you heard your daughter yell.

You tried to click pieces into place before you joined them. Something about her hair and her choice.

You heard the low murmur of Natasha’s voice. She always went quiet in fights with your daughter. Some legacy of her past that still made her wary of the impact of raising her voice, of losing her temper entirely.

You couldn’t hear her words but her anger was unmistakable. You opened the door hurriedly. Two pairs of eyes landed on you at once.

Your daughter rushed to get the first word in, as if you were the judge and jury of this argument.

‘I already bought the stuff.’ She told you determinedly. Her fingers gripped her backpack fiercely.

You caught Natasha’s desperate look at you and sighed quietly. Whatever was going on, you knew Natasha was silently asking for your support for a reason.

You tilted your head at your daughter and waited for more information. You hated playing this balancing act.

‘I’m going to dye my hair blue’. Your daughter continued. Her brown eyes flashed suddenly with something that was entirely Natasha.

‘No you’re not.’ Natasha interrupted suddenly from beside you. Her arms moved to cross in front of her. Sometimes, the two of them reminded you more of sisters than mother and child.

There was a pause. You saw the look on your daughter’s face and realised she was trying to prepare herself for her next words. You cringed in anticipation.

‘I know you had blue hair.’ Your daughter accused Natasha abruptly.

The air left the room as you both froze. Your eyes scanned Natasha’s immediately. You hadn’t known that, but you could tell immediately that it was true. Natasha blinked back her obvious shock. You resisted putting an arm around her shoulders. You didn’t want to take sides, but you felt the ache of Natasha’s past like an old wound.

‘I saw the pictures.’ Your daughter added, her arms moving to cross themselves, just like Natasha’s.

An acutely vulnerable and threatened look crossed Natasha’s features. Her eyes were unseeing as more emotions rolled through her. You tensed nervously. She looked murderous. A line had been crossed.

‘Those pictures are private.’ Natasha said in a low voice. A shiver ran down your spine at the sound. ‘You had no right - ’.

‘I’m your kid.’ Your daughter interrupted, her voice rising higher with hysteria. She blinked away her tears angrily.

‘Where are those pictures now?’ Natasha’s voice stayed a growl. You found yourself stepping forward. It was too late to keep the peace, but you felt the situation slipping closer to words that couldn’t be unsaid.

Your hand brushed your daughter’s shoulder.

‘Hey.’ You called calmly and your daughter’s eyes flickered warily up to you. ‘We can talk about dyeing your hair later. Get your mom’s pictures.’

‘No.’

Your jaw clenched in frustration, you took a deep breath. You felt the oncoming explosion, you didn’t know if you could stop it.

You felt Natasha seethe obviously. You loved her well enough to sense how hard she was working to stay cool. You didn’t know the context of the pictures, you were certain of their importance to her. 

‘Give them back to me.’ Natasha said one more time, and you knew it was the last warning.

‘I get to have some pieces of you.’ Your daughter declared suddenly. Her voice was wavering obviously, the angry tears still stained her cheeks.

‘You don’t get to have that piece.’ Natasha shook her head fervently. ‘Give me back my fucking photos.’

‘Fuck you.’ Your daughter retaliated, and the words fell out her mouth like she’d been waiting to say it.

Something hardened in Natasha as the words landed, you watched her try and ignore it.

‘Pictures.’ You iterated again, firmly. Your voice stayed level. You knew the unbearable tension couldn’t release from Natasha until she had them back.

You didn’t realise there was more your daughter might say. Her fingers fumbled with the front zipper on her backpack, she rummaged inside and produced a single strip of photos. Your eyes clung to the produced glossy strip of paper as she threw it in the air and floated to the ground.

There were two girls in the pictures and your heart twisted in further understanding. You noted the bright blue hair that caught the eye easily. 

Natasha snatched the photos so fast, they hadn’t even reached the ground. You should have anticipated her next move. Your daughter certainly didn’t. Natasha plucked out the box of hair dye from inside her open backpack in one smooth motion. 

The outrage in your daughter’s face would have been comical if it didn’t make you so nervous.

‘Fuck you.’ She said again and this time the words came out in a desperately controlled voice. She’d pitched it lower and you wondered if she knew she was imitating her mother.

‘You never wanted me.’ She accused Natasha now, voice cracking. Tears started streaming down her face again as the deeper hurt was exposed.

‘We both know I’m not even yours. Now, you won’t even fucking let me look like you.’

Natasha sagged immediately with the weight of your daughter’s words. You saw the horror and shock weave through her furrowed brows. Her mouth fell open.

Your daughter didn’t see any of it.

She crumpled down to the ground in a motion that ached with familiarity. For a moment, you remembered those first moments of her learning to walk. The strongest part of that memory was Natasha’s smile when your daughter had chosen to stumble clumsily over to her.

You didn’t need to look at Natasha to know she’d felt the words like a sucker punch. You crouched down next to your daughter. 

‘You are and have always been the best thing in both of our lives.’ You told her quietly. Your daughter didn’t stop crying. Her arms circled her knees. 

Natasha moved closer, hesitancy laced her movements and you could feel the nerves emanating from her. This was everything she’d ever been scared of. You felt her anticipating more rejection from the person who could hurt her most. Your hand moved to brush the back of her nearest leg soothingly. 

‘Your mom loves you completely.’ You said simply and your daughter’s chin tilted reluctantly towards you. She shook her head disbelievingly. You saw the deep insecurity and wished desperately to remove it.

‘I always thought I might have children.’ You continued carefully, trying to decide what you could share as you spoke. ‘But, for your Mom, that wasn’t even a dream she was allowed to have.’

Your daughter’s face twisted as she tried to process the words. Her eyes flickered uncertainly up at Natasha. You followed her gaze and caught Natasha’s ashy expression. She was still caught, waiting for more rejection.

‘Do you understand?’ You pressed softly, and your free hand reached out to your daughter’s knee. ‘You are better than she could have ever dreamed.’ 

You felt Natasha kneel down beside you too, she took the hand you’d had on her leg and held it in hers. Your fingers interlaced automatically and, when she squeezed it, you felt the cool of her wedding ring against your warm palm.

‘Not to mention, you are already so alike. It’s ridiculous.’ You added, letting your tone get lighter. Somehow, just having them sit closer to each other, reassured you.

Natasha outstretched her free hand, with the previous photos purposefully on display to your daughter.

‘You see that other girl?’ She murmured. Her eyes caught yours intermittently, seeking reassurances You squeezed her hand and gave her a careful smile. 

Your daughter nodded, silent with the expectation that this was important.

‘She’s my family.’ Natasha stumbled. ‘Or the closest I ever had to it.’ She corrected embarrassedly. She took a shaky breath before continuing. 

‘And, that’s why you’re named Yelena. After her.’ 

Yelena stared back at Natasha, surprise and curiosity entirely replacing her earlier hurt.

‘Where is she now?’ She asked immediately, her voice hoarse from crying.

‘I don’t know. But I love her. You remind me of her every day.’ Natasha answered simply.

I know I’m not your Mom, not biologically.’ Natasha’s eyes met yours and you saw a longing in them that you never wanted to see again.

‘But I want to be.’ She admitted softly.

Your daughter’s hand reached out for her mother’s. Things settled inside your heart, a heaviness lifted from the air.

‘Maybe.’ Yelena started, face filling with a small smile. ‘Maybe I could dye my hair red instead.’

Natasha regarded her with a new softness, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards too. They understood each other so much better than they thought. 

You rolled your eyes as you got back to your feet, pulling the pair of them up along with you.

‘Just what I need. Double the trouble.’ You teased, barely able to keep a straight face as Natasha swatted at your arm halfheartedly.

Yelena grinned up at you. Her hand slipped out of yours as she moved to wrap her arms around Natasha’s waist. Her head buried against Natasha’s front. Your daughter was growing up, but she was still so young. 

The tentative tenderness in Natasha’s answering hug was more precious than you could ever explain. Her hand slipped out of yours too as she moved to rub light circles on Yelena’s back.

‘I’m really sorry.’ Yelena mumbled.

‘I know.’ Natasha soothed and she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair. 

Yelena moved back a little and you watched her head tilt up as she regarded Natasha. Natasha smiled familiarly back.

‘Whatever colour you want. I’ll help you dye it.’ Natasha promised her quietly. ‘But, you’re already my daughter. You always have been.'

‘I’m yours.’ Yelena affirmed as her rested back against her mother. Natasha’s lips brushed her hair as she held her tight against her.

The world had finally righted itself and you found yourself sighing in relief.

[please-destroy]

A Perfect Mix

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + Family

Word Count: 1.8K

This follows on from the last fic I've posted.

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Noone saw Natasha’s strengths as a mother like you did.

There was something almost clumsy about the force of her love.

When Yelena was born, Natasha had been overwhelmed with the feeling. When she first looked down at the baby in her arms, Natasha forgot how to breathe. You watched the beginning of an uncontrollable love. 

Yelena had always looked up to Natasha with a wide-eyed awe. Even when she was very little, if Natasha came into the room, Yelena’s gaze would find her, following her every movement excitedly. 

Natasha had never expected to be the favourite parent, not even for a brief moment. Yelena quickly reset her expectations. She wasn’t shy in showing her delight for her Mom. You watched her smile and coo and giggle easily just at the sight of Natasha. 

At first, Natasha had been careful, almost shy in her responses to her daughter’s affection. She held Yelena carefully, like she was the most fragile thing in the world. She couldn’t help but give Yelena her softest smiles. 

You loved seeing this side of her. You knew Natasha’s gentleness better than anyone. It was a trait that she couldn’t help with the people she loved. In the past, you’d felt her try to avoid it. A fear of rejection and vulnerability that you could forgive easily.

Yelena made Natasha brave. She loved Natasha and she expected Natasha to love her too.

Natasha never let her down.

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The very first time Yelena had walked, she’d wandered unsteadily over to Natasha. You’d swallowed a cheer of excitement, scrambling to find your phone to record the moment.

Yelena’s face had split into a delighted grin, thrilled that her newly acquired skill was helping her get to her Mom faster. 

When she made it, Natasha scooped her into a careful hug and you watched her eyes close. 

It was only when you heard her murmur ‘Well done’ in a choked voice that you realised she was holding back tears. 

Yelena was special. Just by being herself, she made Natasha feel special too.

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You started to become stubborn in your belief that Yelena was a perfect mix of yourself and Natasha.

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You explained your theory to Natasha one night as you were both on the verge of sleep. You felt Natasha’s gaze clinging to you through the dark, in that hopeful way that made her seem young. You felt her fingers lazily tracing your pulse point.

‘You’re brave and kind. And so is she.’ You explained simply. 

Natasha hesitated at the compliment; her fingers paused for a moment on your skin but she didn’t vocalise any disagreement. Yelena’s emerging personality was undeniably similar to Natasha’s.

After a moment, Natasha cleared her throat and asked. 

‘What about you?’

You grinned in anticipation, your answer well prepared. 

‘Well.’ You started slowly, reaching to find Natasha’s face in the dark, your thumb brushing her lips to ascertain their exact location. ‘She’s incredibly smart, of course.’

You moved closer to Natasha in the bed. You could feel her smile of agreement beneath your thumb. 

Natasha was trying to be lowkey about her belief that Yelena was the world’s next great genius. But you’d caught her the other day, very preemptively, researching a Stark scholarship programme for high achievers.

‘And I know she’s so smart because she figured out immediately that Natasha Romanoff is the best person in the world.’

You kissed Natasha quickly before she could roll her eyes or argue your point. Instead, you felt her smile harder against your lips, clearly aware of your scheme.

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Even though she’d had it her whole life, Yelena’s faith in her mother always seemed completely fresh. You loved that it had never wavered. 

You could tell it scared Natasha.

You knew the pressure of that faith weighed heavily on her. Yelena trusted her wholeheartedly because she loved the Mom she’d always known. At first, she couldn’t conceive of the person Natasha had been before that.

It was when Yelena turned four that she first understood what her extended family had been hinting at every time they visited. After an afternoon spent with some of Natasha’s closest friends, ‘Avenger’ was no longer a meaningless word to Yelena. Instead, it became a special term of honour used by those around her. 

The leap of understanding wasn’t hard for her. For Yelena, her Mom was already a superhero.

Now, almost relentlessly, she would crawl onto the sofa next to Natasha and ask for stories. 

Yelena had a way of sneaking up on you. Natasha fell for it every single time. Sometimes she’d find herself cornered unexpectedly and catch your eye from across the room. You’d just grin back knowingly. Yelena would twist pieces of Natasha’s long hair as she asked for yet another story from her past. Natasha’s hand would stay pressed lightly at the small of her back, making sure her enthusiastic climbing never ended badly.

Natasha’s voice always sounded gravelly when she told those stories. For a woman trained in hiding her emotions, her subtlety was often forgotten. Natasha’s eyes would flicker nervously over to you whenever she obviously abridged a more traumatic story. 

At first, she was hesitant to ever mention the alien invasion in New York, sure it would give Yelena nightmares. Eventually, she’d brought it up hesitantly, recounting it more like a fairytale than anything else. 

Yelena, of course, latched onto the idea with more enthusiasm than anything before. She built aliens and spaceships out of cereal boxes. Her favourite game was pretending to be an Avenger saving the world from an other-worldly danger. Even when she asked Natasha to play with her, Yelena always insisted on being the Black Widow. Nothing made you laugh harder than when Natasha was relegated to play the role of ‘Hulk’ in her own story.

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It wasn’t surprising that Yelena asked for a Black Widow action figure doll for Christmas that year. Nonetheless, you felt a kind of sharp pride when you read through her list for Santa. It was more crayon than words but you immediately recognised the red black widow symbol clumsily drawn in the centre of the page.

Yelena asked you twice to put an urgent stamp on her letter, clearly sceptical of non-reindeer delivery services.

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You didn’t tell Natasha about Yelena’s request, happy to wait for her reaction on Christmas Day. 

You were grateful for Yelena’s love of your wife’s alter-ego. You loved the way that the ‘Black Widow’ had become something more simple in your family; an easy shorthand for your wife’s bravery. 

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Having Yelena in your lives now made Christmas twice as exciting and intense. You loved it. 

The day began with the simple perfection you cherished. 

Natasha gave you a sleepy smile over a cup of coffee, loose pieces of her tied back hair floating around her head. Her red and white pyjamas were patterned in a Christmas theme. Her fluffy reindeer socks had been a present unwrapped earlier.

Yelena screamed, half wild with holiday excitement, as she unwrapped the Black Widow box. She hugged the plastic casing and turned to you both with shiny eyes and an overwhelming smile.

You smiled back immediately, loving the feeling of sharing her joy. You listened to her excited chatter, holding out the box so you could get a better look.

You didn’t get a chance to see Natasha’s reaction, before you felt a hurried movement to the side of you.

Natasha left the room abruptly and your heart sunk with the dawning realisation that you’d misjudged the moment. You followed her covertly, leaving as soon as Yelena turned to Lila for help getting the doll out of the packaging.

You found Natasha silently shaking in the hallway, her back pressed to the wall. You recognised the emotions that had come to an unexpected head. Natasha would never call this feeling anxiety. Still, her eyes clung to yours, seeking the grounding that you knew how to give her. 

The sinking feeling in your chest crystallised. Natasha looked small, her arms wrapped around herself. 

You realised suddenly, that Natasha didn’t see herself in the stories that Yelena loved. You thought of all the details that Natasha omitted in her careful retellings. 

Black Widow didn’t make her feel brave. Only her family did. 

You moved towards her carefully, hugging her in an expression of unspoken regret and comfort. Natasha fit so familiarly in your arms. As always, you revelled in the nearness of her. Natasha’s warm embrace was home. Her head rested slightly on your shoulder and the comfortable silence between you stretched out. Her breathing steadied in the quiet seconds that followed. You felt calmer too, as if you could feel her slowing heartbeat in your own chest.

Family made you feel brave too.

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The door from the living room was flung open less than a minute later. Yelena’s unaware delight was almost painfully endearing. 

‘Mama.’ She called out to Natasha. You barely had time to open your embrace before Yelena was confidently sneaking between the pair of you. She lifted the doll above her head so that Natasha could have a better look. 

‘I love her.’ She declared and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face.

You tried to take the pressure away from Natasha as best you could, redirecting Yelena’s focus.

‘Santa must have read your list baby.’ You told her, brushing loose hair away from her eyes. Yelena gave you a secret smile, obviously remembering her earlier worries about the North Pole’s mailing system. 

Your attempt was ineffective. Like a magnet, her attention returned to Natasha.

Sometimes, Yelena didn’t seem quite as unaware as you believed. You weren’t sure what she read in Natasha’s often hesitant gaze. Her arms wrapped around Natasha’s leg confidently and you watched her squeeze tightly. 

‘Don’t worry Mama, I still love you just as much.’ Yelena assured her seriously, cheek pressed against her Mom’s side. 

Natasha met your gaze as her hand moved with instinctive protectiveness to the space between Yelena’s shoulders. There was a lightness in her eyes and you smiled knowingly. 

Yelena’s serious tone was starting to sound a lot like your own. Another part of the perfect mix. 

‘Well, I win because I love you the most.’ Natasha replied playfully, letting any last remnants of sadness evaporate. In one quick movement, that had taken years of confidence for Natasha to do casually, she lifted Yelena up above her head, swinging her exaggeratedly back and forth until she started shrieking with laughter. 

Their matching grins looked like reflections of each other. It was right then, alone together in the hallway, that you realised Natasha’s faith in Yelena was just as absolute.

When she caught her breath, cheeks flushed from excitement. Yelena turned to you eagerly.

‘I need to have a doll of you for my birthday.’ She informed you. 

‘There is no doll of me.’ You commiserated teasingly as you all headed back to the living room together. Natasha’s hand slipped around your waist, just as her other one rested on Yelena’s shoulder.

‘Oh don’t worry.’ Natasha told you, a glint of mischief behind her reassuring smile. ‘We’ll make sure to find one.’

[please-destroy]

Someone Familiar

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K

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Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.

Natasha did not believe in luck, only the absence of it. You could understand why good things made her nervous. You saw the effects of her childhood, of her entire life, every day.

Your relationship had clashed with Natasha’s understanding of the world. She’d told you, on your second date, that love was for children. Her brow had knitted in confusion when that had made you kiss her harder.

Natasha saw herself as fundamentally lacking because of her past. Natasha radiated steady love and then wondered why you trusted her.

You knew it was tied to the graduation ceremony that she’d been subjected to in the Red Room. It had taken years for her to believe in your relationship, in the simple success of it.

In a way, you understood her hesitance. There were too many pieces that had fallen into place. Too many hurdles cleared at the last second. 

Together, you had already built something better than Natasha had ever hoped for. Then, one day, you asked her to build something new together.

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You took the positive pregnancy test when Natasha was on a mission. You’d been trying for several months already. 

Each negative test had stung more than either of you knew how to process. Everytime, your heart would sink heavily and you’d try to smooth out your expression. You’d meet Natasha’s wide-eyed stare and watch a raw anxiety wash over her. You hated that look more than anything. Natasha had held your hand and taken a leap of faith with you. With every negative test you felt like you were letting her down, asking her to have hope when there was no guarantee. 

There was always an awful kind of silence after a negative result. Hearing Natasha’s shallow breaths echoing in the tiled bathroom. You’d bring your arms around her slowly, only tightening your hold as she folded into your arms. You’d wrap yourself around her softly, like a blanket, making your own heavy disappointment lighter so that you could carry some of hers.

‘It’s only negative this month.’ You would remind her carefully, repeating words you weren’t sure that you believed. After a moment, Natasha would kiss your cheek and you’d know by the way she avoided your lips that it was meant as an apology. Natasha was always apologising for what she couldn’t give you. 

Natasha didn’t chase happiness, because she didn’t know how to have it. 

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When she first met you, every moment together felt a little frantic. She held your hand on unofficial dates and you watched her unsurely, waiting for her to change her mind. Kisses felt unintentional, hurried but passionate as if neither of you could help it any longer. 

You couldn’t decide who this woman was, why the pieces of her didn’t quite fit together. You wondered when Natasha was ever just herself.

Initially, you only saw it in glimpses. But, Natasha shone through the smallest of cracks.

At night you faced each other in the bed, restfully watching each other in the silence. There was an electric kind of comfort in the space between you. It was those silent moments, in between heartbeats and shallow breaths, that made you certain of Natasha. That you fit together in a perfect way. 

Natasha would lift her hand hesitantly and run her fingers over your skin. She drew light patterns that never seemed to end. You watched her marvel at the fact you were still in her bed. That you weren’t leaving. That you thought you could be whole with her. 

For you, pregnancy was a dream worth chasing. A future that you could build with the person you loved. For Natasha, making a family was soaked in her own failing. The way she saw herself was unfair, it was untrue. Still, the feeling lingered.

It was past midnight when you took the positive pregnancy test. You’d had an inexplicable feeling and you’d been correct.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You barely recognised the person you saw, the giddy excitement reflected in your eyes. Natasha wasn’t there, but you heard your own hitched breaths echoing in the room and felt your joy double on her behalf.

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You made no plan for how to tell Natasha. You knew the news would be surprise enough. 

In the end, you didn’t even have to say the words.

Natasha walked through the front door around midday. A scheduled mission had overrun and she’d come home straight from the formal debriefing. You were leaning awkwardly against the back of the sofa, perched in anticipation as soon as you heard her car pull into the drive. 

Subtle tension left Natasha’s face when she entered her home. Her smile widened in pleasure at the sight of you. Your returning one was soft and careful.

Natasha scanned your expression casually as she walked towards you. There was a second of normalcy where you met her unsuspecting smile. Your rapid heartbeat thudded in your own ears. Her scan of your face faltered and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Your smile widened as her eyes searched yours more closely. Your head dipped briefly in confirmation.

Natasha exhaled all at once, as if she’d finally been allowed to breathe. She dropped suddenly to her knees, a few feet from you. Her hand touched her own waist, bracing as the shock rolled through her. Her mouth stayed open but no air reentered her lungs.

You moved forward instinctively and your hand touched her shoulder. Natasha’s eventual inhale was long and ragged. Her hand brushed the back of your leg. You’d become adept at reading the muted signals of Natasha’s emotions. For the first time, there was nothing subtle in her expression of surprise.

Your hand moved to brush the top of her head, trying to ground her in the reality of the good news. Natasha looked up at you and her eyes had the same sparkle that you’d seen in your own in the bathroom mirror. You grinned familiarly. 

Now that Natasha knew, the reality was settling with you too.

Her hands slid hesitantly under the front of your shirt. Her fingers grazed your stomach reverently. The warmth of her touch settled your jittering nerves for a moment. She started drawing light patterns across your skin and her lips pressed against your midriff. You loved her completely.

Natasha’s hands continued to trail up your sides as she returned slowly to her feet. Now, her fingers touched your face. She looked at you like you might not be real. You could feel the tremor in her touch.

‘Are you sure?’ She asked you suddenly, fingers stilling against your cheeks. You smiled even wider. You nodded again. 

‘We’re having a baby.’ You said simply. The words sounded too much like fantasy. You took her hand and led her to the bathroom, to show her the test that had confirmed every impossible hope.

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Natasha moved into a new kind of overdrive from that day forward. Nine months stretched before you like a precarious blessing. 

Natasha gravitated around you whenever she could. The casual hand around your waist became a constant when you were together. There was a redheaded shadow for every mundane errand. It was flattering and a little unnerving to have such unadulterated attention. 

Still, you saw the lingering carefulness in the way Natasha looked at you. The insecurities that led her to seek out reasons to touch you. It was fear that made her throat close up when you wondered aloud about baby names.

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You were sure that Natasha was waiting anxiously for the bump to appear. 

One morning, you caught her lingering, arms folded as she leaned against the bedroom wall. You were half naked, removing your pyjama top, when you noticed her interested gaze. You smirked as you turned around, lifting your clean shirt from the bed.

‘You can see your baby whenever you want.’ You reminded Natasha lightly, filling with a gentle kind of love for her. You held your smirk, waiting to see hers in return. 

Your heartbeat stumbled when she glanced back at you with a hesitant incredulity. You placed the shirt back on the bed and reached out to Natasha instead. Natasha moved closer, her eyes watching your bare stomach nervously.

You ignored the way her stare made you feel like a stranger. She was always familiar to you.

Slowly, you pressed her hand softly against your stomach. Natasha knew your body well enough to recognise the slight change that couldn’t yet be seen. Her other hand moved to mirror the first. You felt her warm palms slide hesitantly along your bare skin. Your breath hitched and Natasha blinked in surprise at the effect of her touch. You watched her expression change as she felt the first proof that the baby was there. Her eyes flitted up to meet yours and you recognised what you saw there. 

Natasha loved the baby already. You wanted to tell her that you understood, that you felt the same.

Your throat closed up when Natasha’s lips found your collarbone. 

Suddenly, she was whispering hurried ‘Thank yous” against your skin. You moaned at the brush of her lips, though her words didn’t sit well with you. You wondered if Natasha understood how much the baby was already hers to love.

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Natasha would have walked through fire with you. Still, you hated having to make her watch your morning sickness unfold. The waves of nausea found you in sudden onslaughts throughout the day. 

You tried to push through it, ignoring Natasha’s clenched jaw as she watched you gingerly pick at your food.

Every time you ended up running to the bathroom, Natasha insisted on sitting with you on the miserable cold tiles. Her hand rubbed familiar circles along the small of your back. Her touch was filled with concern, but it still soothed you. Natasha always brought you balance.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself crying at every mealtime. The morning sickness refused to lessen and a new sort of uselessness flooded you whenever you couldn’t keep a meal down. Each time, Natasha wiped your tears silently before she cleared away barely touched dishes. You watched her move through the kitchen, her eyes closing for long moments as she fought her own frustrated tears.

You could feel Natasha’s misery at being unable to fix it for you.

The feeling of failure only highlighted your wife’s resilience. 

Natasha tried every non-threatening food she could think of. She returned from grocery shopping with bags filled with the blandest foods imaginable. 

Nothing worked. 

You tried to hydrate as much as possible, tried to frame whatever food you did keep down as a positive. Still, you knew Natasha was starting to internalise your continued sickness as part of her own incapability.

Everything that she cooked or scoured from the shelves at the grocery store was rejected emphatically by the baby.

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At last, your body finally granted you reprieve, just as the doctor had assured Natasha on several occasions. 

You woke from an afternoon nap, indulging in the lazy weekend feeling of being at home with your wife. Selfishly, you loved being sure of Natasha’s proximity in the house. You wondered absentmindedly if Maria had had a heart attack when Natasha announced she was going to take all her unused time off, effective immediately.  

You wandered sleepily through to the kitchen and over to Natasha. She was sitting with her back to you at the counter, scrolling on her laptop.

You rested your chin on her shoulder, snaking your arms around her back and letting out a satisfied sigh. Natasha let out an answering huff of laughter, leaning back slightly into your hold. There was a small jar of caviar open on the table. You knew she was sneaking it whenever she thought you wouldn’t have to see it. Your nose still scrunched at the thought of consuming something so fishy.

‘I want Mac n Cheese.’ You mumbled unthinkingly as a yawn overtook you suddenly. 

Natasha stiffened in her chair and she turned to face you. 

Her hand touched your chest, tilting back slightly so she could better assess your yawning expression.

‘Really?’ She asked you carefully. ‘You’re hungry?’

You smiled suddenly with the realisation that you were finally feeling able to eat.

‘All I want is Mac ‘n Cheese.’ You confirmed readily. Natasha got to her feet instantly. She looked at you for a moment and you revelled in the fondness of her attention. Her hands squeezed your shoulders in obvious satisfaction.

‘I have to run to the store.’ She rushed out hurriedly, kissing your lips briefly but emphatically. 

Natasha’s love felt like a hot shower, encompassing and addictive. You watched her fly through the house, grabbing her keys and wallet. Her enthusiasm for you caught like a lump in your throat. You fought tears as you gave her a half wave, matching her wide grin as she glanced back before heading out the door.

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Natasha’s mac and cheese tasted like heaven. As you helped yourself to a third helping, you began to feel sure that this was also your first craving.

Natasha had barely eaten any herself, continually putting her fork down as she watched you moan with delight with each bite. You grinned unashamedly, too blissed out from the relief of keeping the food down and the deliciousness of the meal itself.

‘How have we never eaten this before?’ You asked Natasha dramatically. Her answering smile was soft. 

‘I had it a lot as a kid.’ She answered succinctly. Your surprise was evident, her reply was not what you’d expected. You tried to comprehend the Red Room ever providing Western classic dishes.

Natasha’s head shook in anticipation of your confusion.

‘I spent a few years in Ohio.’ She told you, a tightness in her voice as she forced a casual stab at some pasta with her fork. ‘It was an early mission.’

You stayed silent, knowing far more was omitted than what had been shared. Natasha stabbed another piece of pasta and you reached out automatically to touch her arm. Natasha glanced back at you and suddenly, she looked much younger.

You hated the people who had taken her childhood.

‘Was Mac n Cheese your favourite food?’ You asked, ignoring how strange it was for such an unassuming question to hold such weight. Natasha looked down at her plate when she shook her head. The food started to rest more heavily in your stomach.

‘Not my favourite.’ Natasha clarified in a carefully level voice. ‘Someone else’s.’ She paused again, choosing the right words. ‘A friend’s.’

Natasha looked back at you and you met her gaze steadily. No part of Natasha hinted that she felt off balance. Still, you caught the nervous energy emanating from her.

Your thumb brushed her arm soothingly and you didn’t ask any follow up questions. You both knew that she never had any friends in the Red Room.

‘Maybe it’s the baby’s favourite too.’ You said lightly, trying to alleviate the unspoken sadness that had settled between you. 

You stood up, moving to clear the dishes. You took the opportunity to kiss Natasha’s forehead.

‘At least it’s not caviar.’ You muttered teasingly, stealing Natasha’s fork and the piece of macaroni on the end of it. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and you knew she was settled by your familiar tease about her favourite food.

She stood up too, moving behind you suddenly. Her arms stretched around you to take the empty dishes from your hand, a silent insistence to leave the clearing of the table to her. Her lips touched your cheek and you felt immediate warmth spread through you at her affection. Pregnancy made Natasha’s love even more overwhelming.

Her lips lingered by your ear.

‘That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time to teach them about having good taste.’ Natasha promised you, kissing you again before taking the dishes to the kitchen.

You stayed quiet, hiding a sudden beaming smile. You wondered if Natasha realised that she’d started making plans as a Mom.

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Natasha circled the date of your sonogram on the calendar. 

The calendar was already your favourite item in the whole house. Natasha had bought it a few weeks after you’d found out that you were pregnant. She’d filled in every important date that she could think of before hanging it in the front hall. 

You had a suspicion that she was trying to recreate the domestic family life that she’d seen played out in movies. Natasha, the professional spy, was not who you’d expect to display important upcoming dates for anyone to view. 

Your heart felt fuller and heavier when you saw Natasha attempt to become the Mom she wasn’t quite sure how to be.

You ached when you realised how little she had to go on. Natasha could learn anything and you watched her work to understand what she was missing. 

Her bedtime reading became exclusively books for expectant parents. She studied with a quiet purpose that made you wonder if she was expecting a test at the hospital.

As the day of the sonogram approached, the two of you mentioned it less and less. There was a heightened feeling of anticipation that was hard to acknowledge. 

You knew that Natasha didn’t actually care about the sex of the baby. Natasha didn’t believe in horoscopes either. Still, you’d found her plotting out the zodiac the other day, trying to figure out which star signs were likely for your baby.

Natasha was impatient to know her kid better. You related to the feeling entirely.

The silence on the drive to the appointment was full of awkward anticipation. You tried not to focus on your growing need to pee. They’d told you to drink some water before the appointment and you’d gone a little overboard. You turned on the radio for distraction, tuning in unexpectedly to a ‘Cheesy Hits’ station. 

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers filled the car and relieved the tension. Natasha’s fingers started tapping out the beat on the dashboard. The shift in the air was tangible and, suddenly, you felt like you were going on an adventure together. 

‘Dolly for a girl and Kenny for a boy?’ You suggested with a smirk, making sure to keep your eyes on the road ahead. Natasha was not thrilled by your insistence on driving today and you were determined to be the perfect model of safety behind the wheel.

Natasha leaned back against her head rest and you could feel her eyes on you as she turned to face you.

‘Mickey or Minnie.’ She suggested drily.

Your lips pressed together as you tried not to laugh. 

‘Barbie or Ken.’ You countered and Natasha snorted. There was silence in the car and you knew Natasha was trying to think of something to make you laugh.

‘Kermit or Miss Piggy.’ She suggested suddenly and you found yourself desperately trying not to pee as you drove.

The giddiness you felt, as you checked in at the reception, reminded you of that first day together when you’d known that you were pregnant. Natasha’s fingers were interlaced with yours and her touch grounded you. 

You didn’t speak in the waiting room, filled with a shared understanding of the moment. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave your belly. The baby was part of you and so was Natasha. The three of you felt like one person.

Natasha told you that the jelly was going to feel cold before the nurse could. You wondered if she knew it from movies or from her studying. 

Natasha was trying so hard to be a good mom. Things were already too heightened and you started crying unexpectedly. Natasha used her free hand to stroke your hair comfortingly.

‘Soon.’ She promised soothingly and you knew she thought you were crying with anticipation of the scan. 

Natasha made your heart beat. 

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the baby’s heart beating too.

When the grainy black and white image of your child appeared on the screen, Natasha stopped squeezing your hand. Your eyes moved between the screen and her expression. Unadulterated longing was written across her face. Her eyes turned to you and you met her gaze readily. Her desperate hope mellowed as she watched your steady joy.

Natasha’s smile turned wide and free. You had never seen her entirely unburdened before. Your eyes turned back to the screen, loving your baby entirely. 

The nurse informed you that it was a girl and the announcement didn’t even register. Natasha started crying, burying her head against your shoulder. Your arm curved around her back automatically. The nurse smiled at you and you smiled back. You felt free too.

You started laughing when you were back in the car. Elton John played out the speakers and Natasha stared down at a picture of your baby.

‘That’s your daughter.’ You reminded her happily. Natasha shook her head but her eyes stayed fixed on the picture.

‘I’m dreaming.’ She said dazedly and something about her tone made you blink back tears again. 

You didn’t have the right words. 

Instead, you placed Natasha’s hand back onto your rounded stomach. There was no absence of proof now that her dreams were coming true.

You didn’t drive back home immediately. You couldn’t resist heading to the baby store instead. When you took a left turn and Natasha realised your intention, she sent you an indulgent smile.

You wandered through the baby clothes section with a languid kind of confidence. You were going to have a daughter. Your skin tingled with happiness.

Natasha sought out a store assistant as you browsed. She wanted to know about the safety ratings on cribs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you heard her begin the interaction by announcing that she was expecting a daughter. The store assistant answered her questions readily and caught your interest in the clothing section of the aisle.

‘These are always my favourite.’ She told you conspiratorially as she approached, picking up a onesie that read ‘World’s Best Sister.’

‘We don’t need that.’ Natasha informed her immediately in a level voice. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her corrective tone. 

‘Not yet.’ You added, sharing a smile with the store assistant before turning back to face Natasha. 

You expected to see playful exasperation in her expression. Instead, you saw a fierce and inexplicable kind of hurt. Natasha’s gaze was painful to meet. The store assistant saw it too, she placed the outfit back and moved away quietly.

‘Natasha.’ You started hesitantly, feeling entirely unsure of yourself. Natasha just shook her head. Everything felt raw and you knew from the way her eyes darted around the store that this wasn’t the right time.

You kissed her cheek in wordless apology. You led Natasha out of the store, expecting some insistence that you should finish browsing. Her continued silence made you worried. 

You saw the way that she swallowed uncomfortably and felt a corresponding lump rise up in your own throat. You didn’t have to understand the sources of Natasha’s pain to feel it too.

You let the Cheesy Hits station continue to play as you drove home. The silence was tense, but the music still offered some sort of reprieve.

You started humming along as the tune of ‘American Pie’ began to play. At first, you didn’t notice the change in Natasha’s breathing. Her hand gripped your arm suddenly and you startled at the unexpected touch.

You glanced over to her and caught her struggling to take a breath. Illogically, your first thought was that she was choking. Then, you heard her rattling inhale and recognised the panic attack. 

Anxiety flooded you too as you tried to keep driving safely. 

‘What is it?’ You asked stupidly as you started moving hurriedly through the lanes of traffic.

Natasha’s words were fearful and they didn’t make any sense.

‘I think my sister is dead.’ She told you as the shaky breaths turned to ragged sobs. 

You pulled over at the side of the road. You moved towards Natasha, ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the other cars rushing past.

‘Breathe love.’ You directed her calmly, resting your hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her.

With military effort, Natasha forced herself to breathe regularly. The sound was still shaky and her inhales were desperate. You’d never seen her spiral like that before.

You turned off the radio unthinkingly and Natasha sagged with a weighted kind of relief. You glanced at the car speakers in alarm. You tried to guess what her words could have meant. 

Natasha’s breathing regulated and you confirmed your suspicion.

‘The song?’ You checked carefully. Natasha nodded once, blowing out a slow breath.

‘You have a sister?’ You asked now and she nodded one more time, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You nodded too, trying to reconcile this new piece of information.

‘At the store.’ You began softly as the pieces clicked. Natasha gave you a pained look in confirmation.

‘That song was her favourite.’ She told you in between carefully controlled breaths.

You couldn’t help your eyebrows raising in confusion. The song was too American to fit with Natasha’s past. In a flash, you remembered the Mac and Cheese. You remembered her ‘friend’ in Ohio, you wondered how long that early mission could have lasted.

‘I don’t know where she is. She could have died in the Red Room.’ Natasha confessed and her eyes were filled with an awful self-loathing. You wondered how long she’d been living with this private grief. 

‘Can you track her down?’ You asked her unsurely, feeling the conversation drain away all your earlier joy.

‘I mean, can we track her down?’ You corrected immediately, because Natasha wasn’t doing this alone.

‘No.’ Natasha shook her head and her voice caught. ‘She, uh, she wouldn't want to see me.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ You prompted quietly and Natasha nodded. 

‘We’re not. We weren’t real sisters. There was a mission. It was all pretend.’

You could see the guilt resting on Natasha’s shoulders, you watched her bend forward under the weight of it. Her hands covered her face briefly. 

‘That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real.’ You reminded her quietly. ‘Blood doesn’t make family.’ 

You took her hand then, it felt too cold. Instinctively, you covered it with both of your own, trying to give her warmth. You ignored the fleeting concern that Natasha wouldn’t see her daughter as really hers either.

Natasha shook her head slowly and abruptly you were sure that you’d said the wrong thing.

‘It felt too real.’ Natasha murmured. ‘She was too young. She didn’t know the truth. Not until they sent us back to the Red Room.’

‘Oh, Natasha.’ You said softly, because your heart was breaking. Your arm slid softly along her arched back.

Sometimes, you could imagine Natasha as a kid, the abandoned girl that monsters had raised. You had seen how protective Natasha was of you, of the child that was still inside of you. You imagined another little girl, trusting Natasha as family. 

You ached for Natasha’s loss, for the failure you knew she saw as hers.

.

‘She might be living happily somewhere, just like you.’ The words fell out of your mouth that evening. You were already in bed, you’d placed the sonogram photo on top of your nightstand. Your mood had swung sharply all day between bubbling joy and weighted tension. 

Natasha was undressing at the foot of your bed. Her breath caught and she looked at you. You saw the same desperate longing in her eyes as you had at the sonogram. You felt the urge to keep speaking.

‘If she’s anything like you. She’ll be busy causing trouble and making a family of her own. She’s your sister, it’s not impossible.’ 

The images sounded too fantastical and you paused uncertainly. Natasha’s eyes clung to yours. She moved over to you, hands touching your thighs as she crawled up the bed. Natasha looked vulnerable and your eyes searched hers carefully, trying to determine what she was looking for.

She lifted your top slowly and pressed her lips to your belly. You watched her reverence and felt a slow heat build inside you. Natasha kept moving up your body and you felt her breasts brush over you as she curved herself around you.

When she reached your mouth, she leaned in to kiss you. There was the slightest hesitation and then you felt her gratitude for your farfetched comfort. Giving Natasha hope was all you knew how to do.

Natasha pressed her lips against yours for a second time. When the kiss broke, more words fell from your mouth.

‘What was her name?’ You asked simply.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha replied and the sound of it was precious.

.

You celebrated Natasha’s birthday on the 1st of December. It was unlikely to be her actual date of birth, but it was the one she used. All Natasha knew was that she’d been born in winter. 

Your baby was also going to be born in winter, but not until the new year. You felt too large now, missing the simple flexibility that you’d taken for granted your whole life.

You’d had plenty of time to think of a birthday present for Natasha. A Russian ballet had seemed like a risky surprise. You’d asked her about it before you’d booked the tickets. 

Natasha’s smile had been shy at your suggestion.

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She informed you hesitantly and you wondered if you’d ever stop finding new ways to love her.

Her birthday had been a languid and casual affair. You were getting tired more easily and yet hormones had woken you before daybreak with unbearable excitement. 

Your eagerness had lasted through most of the lunch at her favourite restaurant. Natasha had flushed self-consciously in front of her friends when you kissed her enthusiastically after she cut the cake. 

Clint’s sarcastic applause seemed to rally Natasha and she marked your nose teasingly with a piece of frosting just to make him roll his eyes.

By the time you returned home, you were living in a new state of exhaustion. Natasha ended up driving in silence whilst you napped in the passenger seat. 

You knew she didn’t mind. Natasha gently led you back into the house and onto the sofa. Your eyes barely opened, trusting her guidance entirely. You remembered nothing after the moment your head had touched the sofa cushion.

You startled awake when Natasha’s fingers lightly touched your shoulder. You smiled lazily when you saw her face hovering above yours.

‘Happy Birthday!’ You told her, arms going wide in a half stretch and half celebration.

Natasha stared down at your upside down smile and blinked back tears. 

You were no stranger now to sudden rushes of happiness. You moved her hands over to your belly. 

‘You can’t get one of these every year.’ You mumbled, still sounding half asleep. ‘Takes much more baking than a cake does.’

Natasha laughed easily, the sound bubbling up in a way that was rare for her. You grinned with satisfaction and your eyes closed for another brief moment as you soaked in the warmth of it.

Natasha helped you to sit up. She lingered awkwardly next to you on the sofa. You knew instinctively what she wanted to do. You lifted your top slightly and gave her a knowing smirk.

‘Love you.’ Natasha mumbled as she kissed your bump. Her cheeks reddened and she purposefully avoided your eye contact as she straightened up. Still, her hand reached out to help you as you moved to leave the sofa. 

When you stood up, you didn’t let go of Natasha's hand. You tapped her wrist twice and Natasha turned to face you automatically.

‘You can’t be shy about loving your daughter.’ You reminded Natasha quietly, trailing your fingers up and down her bare forearm. 

Natasha’s embarrassment flickered for a moment and then turned into something quieter. Her lips touched your neck as she brought you close to her. You felt her cheeks touch your skin as she started to smile widely.

‘I can’t believe I have a daughter.’ Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. 

You grinned suddenly, hearing the dawning realisation in Natasha’s voice that never went away.

‘I can’t believe I married such a MILF.’ You teased back, arms wrapping around her. Natasha’s head tilted and she left small kisses up the side of your neck.

Since your second trimester, Natasha could turn you on with a wink. You moaned loudly at the sensation of Natasha’s lips on your skin and you felt her smile again.

‘Ballet.’ You choked out, trying to stay focused. ‘Ballet, Birthday.’

‘Ballet.’ Natasha repeated and her lips met yours in a gentle kind of kiss. 

‘Birthday.’ She told you, before kissing you again. 

‘Baby.’ Natasha added and her hands touched your stomach again. Her eyes were bright with excitement and you felt her joy like it was your own. 

You leaned forward yourself now. Your cheek brushed hers as you moved next to her ear. ‘Boobs.’ You whispered, reaching up to squeeze them meaningfully. 

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. Her smile seemed permanent as her gaze trailed over you.

‘Bedtime.’ She promised and you tried to ignore the way heat pooled between your legs. It was going to be a long night of anticipation.

.

You watched Natasha far more than you watched the ballet dancers. Everything captivating in their performance was reflected in the focus of her attention. Her eyes were fixed on each dancer in turn as they made impossible moves seem effortless.

You found yourself coming out of a trance at the interval. Natasha turned to look at you and you watched her lips draw back into a smile. 

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She told you again and the thought of it made you smile. You tapped the top of your belly.

‘Maybe she’ll want to be one.’ You pondered playfully, reaching for the brochure resting in Natasha’s lap.

“What name should we pick?’ You considered thoughtfully as you began to suggest the names of various listed dancers.

Natasha’s hand on your thigh silenced you before you could finish half-seriously suggesting ‘Katarina.’

‘We can’t call her something Russian.’ Natasha informed you obviously. Her voice was light, but you could almost taste the sudden tension in the air.

You tilted your head questioningly.

“Why not?’ You challenged immediately. 

‘She’s not Russian.’ Natasha answered simply and you recognised the resoluteness in her eyes. You’d been together long enough to anticipate each other’s arguments. Still, you refused to give up.

‘Her mother is Russian.’ You emphasised pointedly. 

‘Not really. Not biologically.’ Natasha countered with a sudden softness. You hated that her tone had changed to appease you. 

‘I’m naming her Natasha Jr.” You decided stubbornly, rubbing wide circles over your belly in an attempt to calm yourself in the large theatre. ‘Good luck avoiding the child support payments.’

There was a pause as Natasha considered your expression. You refused to look at her, staring determinedly at the empty stage below you. If you focused on your anger for too long, you knew that you’d end up crying.

After a moment, Natasha’s head moved to rest on your shoulder. The moment settled immediately between you. You knew she was thanking you for loving her so certainly. You found her hand, still resting on your thigh and held it gently.

Those who’d left the theatre during the interval began to return slowly to their seats.

‘My mother was in the ballet.’ Natasha said quietly into the loud chatter that surrounded you. You fought the urge to turn your head. Instead, your arm moved instinctively around her shoulder, squeezing lightly in comfort. Natasha’s head tilted on your shoulder as she focused down at your bump.

‘I mean, I used to pretend she was.’ Natasha corrected herself. ‘I always wanted to go to the ballet, in case she’d recognise me in the crowd.’

You didn’t speak for a moment. Natasha had been too young, it was unbearable.

‘It’s hard.’ You began hoarsely, in the moments before the ballet resumed. ‘Things have been so unfair for you, but that’s made you exactly who you are.’

The tears began to catch up with your words.

‘And you’re going to be such a good mother.’ You choked out, feeling sadness like a tremble through your skin. 

Natasha didn’t say anything in return. She shifted in her seat slightly, moving almost imperceptibly closer to you. 

When the ballet finished and everyone around you moved to their feet, Natasha finally looked at you.

‘I love you.’ She reminded you quietly as she took your hand. You gave her a small smile.

“I know.’ You assured her, because you did.

.

You hadn’t known how to tell Natasha that you weren’t looking forward to Christmas. You’d entered your third trimester and begun to dread any days that called for increased stamina. 

More than anything, you’d found yourself desperate for the moments when it was just you and her. You were on the precipice of something new and you found yourself seeking comfort in the steadiness of what you’d already built with Natasha.

You should have known that you didn’t need to tell her. 

When you woke on Christmas Day, it wasn’t because of the alarm that you’d set the night before. Natasha was sitting up in the bed next to you, engrossed in a parenting book that you’d left wrapped under the tree the night before.

You hummed lowly in sleepy confusion, shifting in the bed as you tried to piece together the unexpected morning. You should have already been driving to see Clint’s family. Natasha looked down at you and everything about her smile was calming. Her hand brushed the top of your head and you felt assured that everything was going to plan.

‘Don’t worry.’ Natasha murmured and you couldn’t help yawning. ‘I only opened the one present.’

You nestled into Natasha’s side as you fell back asleep. Her hand stayed resting lazily on the top of your head. You loved all of Natasha’s warmth. 

You hadn’t bought any one big gift for Natasha this Christmas. You’d noticed in past years that, more than anything, she seemed to get a thrill just from the act of unwrapping. You had a feeling it was another way that she chased the American fantasy that she’d seen in movies.

Natasha’s giddiness on Christmas morning was your favourite thing. You watched her surreptitiously from the sofa as she opened each of your gifts in turn. You never took a photo of her though, the look in her eye seemed too precious to share.

Natasha was completely herself on Christmas morning. It was magical.

At last, she opened the present that you were most nervous for her to see. You held your breath as Natasha unwrapped the wide book eagerly. She stilled as she read the simple cover.

‘Becoming Mom.’

Natasha turned to the first page unsurely. She startled in surprise, just like you’d anticipated. She’d known that the photo inside had been taken, but she’d never looked at it herself. 

You’d offered your phone to the nurse during the sonogram. 

Natasha’s cheeks were tear stained in the picture and her hand was clasped loosely with your own. The other touched unthinkingly at her own waist, as if the baby on the screen might as well have been inside of her. 

Everything about her emanated a precarious kind of bliss.

Natasha closed the book suddenly and glanced back up at you.

‘The rest is for you to fill in.’ You mumbled unsurely, feeling a sudden need to avoid Natasha’s gaze. Natasha had never looked more vulnerable than in that photo. Everytime you looked at it, you loved her more fiercely than ever. 

Natasha didn’t love herself like you loved her. You weren’t sure what she was going to say. Her pause lasted an eternity.

Finally, Natasha’s choked voice cut through the silence.

‘I look like a Mom.” Natasha said quietly, and you decided that you’d never stop falling in love with her.

‘You are a Mom.’ You reminded her surely. Natasha’s hands moved to your stomach and suddenly you felt like time had lost all meaning. You felt like you’d always known her. Her touch felt more familiar than your own.

‘I love you.’ You told Natasha softly. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched upwards immediately. When she looked up at you, her eyes glittered. 

‘I know.’ She replied simply, and you knew that she did.

.

Before lunch, Natasha led you out into the backyard to show you your present. You were having Mac and Cheese for Christmas lunch, saying farewell to a food that was now steeped in different layers of nostalgia.

The air was crisp and immediately you were grateful for Natasha’s insistence that you wear a jacket. Natasha’s cheeks turned red as she stood to your left hand side in an attempt to buffer you from the icy wind.

When you turned the corner, you saw what Natasha had made for you.

The wooden swing and slide set stood perfectly in the corner of the backyard. You gripped Natasha’s hand tight at the warm rush of being loved entirely. Suddenly, the air didn’t feel cold at all. Tears threatened as you tried to process the emotion.

The swing was too big for your baby, it would be years until your daughter could play on any part of the structure. You didn’t care. It made everything better. Natasha had planned for years in the future.

‘I had one like this in Ohio.’ Natasha told you with a serenity that you didn’t expect to hear. Her eyes trailed over the swing set as she spoke. ‘I know it’s not quite right for now, but it was my favourite place in the whole world.’

‘Why?’ You asked timidly. You’d loved Natasha for years already. You realised you were in love with a sun that was still rising. 

Natasha started walking again. Her hand slid around your waist, slipping down to squeeze your ass once familiarly, before resting at your hip.

When you reached the swing, Natasha gestured for you to sit and you did. Your fingers tangled in the metal chain as you watched her face in anticipation. You knew that she’d heard your question.

‘Whenever I was swinging, I would close my eyes.’ Natasha started, and you knew she’d spent the silence planning out her answer in her head. ‘And when my eyes were closed, I could pretend that my parents had bought me the swing set. That people loved me, really loved me, because how else could I have something so nice?’

Her hand covered yours on the cold metal chain. Natasha stood next to your shoulder. You closed your eyes, imagining the impossible feeling that she’d described to you.

You gripped the chain heavily as you pulled yourself back to your feet.

‘I need to show you something.’ You told her as you led her back into the house. You walked quickly, feeling certain of what you were about to do but entirely unsure of Natasha’s response.

You picked up the baby book that had been left on the kitchen counter and handed it back to Natasha.

‘Look inside.’ You directed her with an encouraging gesture. Natasha’s eyes dropped down to the book. She turned the page again, this time moving past the one of her at the sonogram.

The next page had been specially embossed. You’d glued in the card that was presented there. Natasha gripped the book tightly as she read the subsection title.

‘Yelena, aged 0 - 1 month’

When Natasha looked back at you, she seemed uncertain. 

‘After her Mom’s sister.’ You said, feeling uneasy about her lack of response. Your fingers played with the edge of your jacket and you found yourself avoiding her eyes.

‘We don’t have to do it.’ You hedged carefully. ‘I just want her to have a piece of you that can’t be taken away.’

Natasha didn’t speak and you glanced back up. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar love in your wife’s eyes.

“And you won’t let me call her Natasha Jr.’ You added pointedly, with a sudden urge to lighten the mood.

The book snapped shut abruptly. Natasha moved towards you so suddenly that you didn’t have time to register her proximity before her lips were on yours.

Natasha filled your senses with a perfect familiarity. You loved the heat of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against you, the touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss. 

Natasha was home and you couldn’t feel lost anymore.

Sharp relief flooded you as you realised that your daughter was going to have the name that you’d been hoping for. 

The kiss broke at last and your hands moved to Natasha’s shoulders as you tried to look at her face. Natasha took a small step back, eyes still closed.

A wave of understanding rushed over you.

‘You don’t have to keep your eyes closed.’ You promised Natasha softly. ‘I’ll still love you when they’re open.’

Natasha’s lips twitched into a shy smile and slowly she opened her eyes.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha repeated as her hands trailed up your sides and gently lingered at the top of your bump.

‘We can save Natasha Jr for the next one.’ You teased again and Natasha smiled wide. 

Her hand pressed lightly on the back of your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.

[please-destroy]

Gentleness

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

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Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. 

.

Natasha loved having plans to look forward to. Sometimes, you thought she enjoyed the anticipation as much as anything else.

You didn’t need to be a psychologist to figure out why. Natasha’s past spoke for itself. 

A memory of your first Christmas together still haunted you. Natasha had picked up her first present from under the tree. She'd smiled in a way that made her eyes sparkle and then she'd made a joke. ‘It’s not empty!’ 

Your heart had twisted painfully when you tried to match her smile. In an instant, you recalled the story she'd once told you about the pretend Christmas in Ohio. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat at the memory. Remembering the realities of her childhood would never sit easily for you.

Natasha noticed your half-hidden discomfort immediately. Her face became something more neutral, her smile dimmed. She’d mumbled an apology and then opened the present quietly.

By the time she was opening her second present, everything was back to normal. Her easy smile had seemed completely natural.

The rest of the day’s plans had gone perfectly.

.

For a long time, you remembered the sick feeling left in your stomach after that day. You hadn’t recognised her fake smiles then, but you knew them now.

Natasha’s past spoke for itself. The hard part was that Natasha knew it too. You wondered what she thought of herself.

You wondered about the blame she couldn't ever seem to put down, about the pieces of herself that she tried to make smaller.

.

You told her about your weekend date plans on Monday. It was nice to have another reason to look forward to Saturday. It wasn’t anything crazy, just dinner at her favourite restaurant.

.

Saturday rolled around and Natasha was definitely sick. You noticed in the morning, but you were wise enough now not to point it out.

When she could barely keep her eyes open during lunch, Natasha finally admitted that she had a headache. 

You rubbed small circles on Natasha’s back, filled with quiet concern as her shoulders hunched forward with discomfort. 

You didn’t correct her, but you knew it wasn’t just a headache. 

She did her best to finish her plate of food, looking miserable with every bite.

It was hard to watch Natasha’s obvious distaste, it was intolerable to watch her suffer through it. 

Natasha could push anything too far.

‘Just leave it, love.’ You murmured at last, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. ‘Maybe, you’ll feel hungry later.’

Natasha’s skin was noticeably warm against your lips. Her eyes closed heavily at your touch. 

She sagged slightly with the relief of quitting the meal. 

Worry simmered inside you, you hadn’t expected her to give in so readily. You were uncomfortably aware that it was impossible to know how much pain Natasha was hiding. 

It was her job to hide it. It was also her nature.

You pressed another kiss to her hair as you stood up to collect her plate. 

For a long moment, Natasha’s head rested heavily against your front. 

Your fingers brushed through her hair instinctively. She let out a contented sigh as you massaged the side of her head. 

‘Maybe I need to go to bed.’ She admitted at last, in a hoarse voice.

‘Okay.’ You agreed readily, not missing the way Natasha’s eyes were reluctant to stay open now.

Your brow furrowed when you watched her gingerly get to her feet. 

‘Want company?’ You tried gently, not liking the idea of leaving her alone. 

Natasha shook her head immediately.

‘I’m already ruining your day.’ She answered in a tight voice, eyes crinkling with pain as she forced them open to meet your gaze.

You didn’t push. She was in too much pain for an argument. 

‘Sleep well.’ You murmured as she left the room. 

.

You managed to wait out an hour.

Natasha was usually a light sleeper, but still you decided it was worth the risk of waking her. 

Natasha’s determination to always seem fine only ever succeeded in making your worry stronger. 

You pushed open your bedroom door tentatively.

Your big bed made Natasha look very small.

She was curled tightly in the centre of it. Her head had slipped from the pillow and her hair was wild from distressed movement.

Her gaze flitted over at your arrival, but no other part of her moved. 

Fresh tear tracks stood out against her pale cheeks. An aspirin bottle stood on the nightstand.

‘Natasha.’ You murmured, unable to help the wave of anxiety seeping into your voice. 

Natasha’s hand moved hurriedly to brush the tears from her face.. 

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, voice thick from crying. 

You didn’t say anything because the last thing you wanted was an apology. 

You knelt by the side of the bed, so that your face was level with Natasha’s. 

You stretched your hand out carefully and brushed back her hair. 

Your touch was extra tentative, Natasha deserved only gentleness.

You rubbed your thumb slowly against her temple and Natasha’s eyes shuttered immediately. 

She made an instinctive sound close to a whimper and your heart squeezed with the sudden rush of love and concern.

‘I’m worried.’ You admitted freely. Natasha’s eyes peeked open apprehensively and you watched her patiently. You both knew that you had every right to be.

‘I’ve been getting migraines.’ Natasha admitted reluctantly, her fingers tracing small patterns across your arm. ‘I think the painkillers are helping, they just need a minute to work.’

Her focus stayed pointedly on your arm and you understood that she hadn’t enjoyed making the confession. You loved her too deeply for words.

‘Have they ever been this bad before?’ You asked and Natasha’s head shook imperceptibly. 

You crawled forward on the bed to kiss her forehead again. Your hand touched her cheek and you felt the wet of fresh tears. 

You wrapped your arms around her immediately and Natasha shifted so that her head was buried against your chest. 

You knew she wanted the space to cry privately, even though she also wanted you close by.

It was a compromise you made easily. It was good to have her in your arms.

‘I’m sorry.’ She mumbled into the fabric of your top. She repeated the words before you had the chance to respond.

You hated that she was apologising for her own pain. You hated her implication that she was an inconvenience to you. Words failed you abruptly as the lump caught in your throat.

Instead, you kept up your steady massage of Natasha’s temples, letting her mumbled apologies give way to quiet moans of relief.

‘We don't have to cancel.’ Natasha quietly told you after a moment. ‘I don’t want to ruin the evening too.’

You pretended not to hear the suggestion of still having your date night when she was obviously in pain. You tightened your arms around her instead.

‘You’re not doing anything wrong.’ You reminded her softly, your voice barely more than a hum.

You felt Natasha’s breath catch. You felt the hesitancy that tingled over her skin as she went still. You felt her disagreement without words.

‘It’s not your fault.’ You reminded her again. 

Her head tilted upwards so that she could face you. 

‘We had plans.’ Natasha said carefully. You read yet another apology in her green eyes. The guilt radiating from her was almost unbearable. You remembered that Christmas morning, when Natasha’s joke had fallen flat and she'd blamed herself.

All you wanted was for her to be herself around you, without worrying about your sadness.

You gave Natasha a small smirk.

‘Well you’re already moaning in bed, so I think the date’s been pretty successful.’ You teased her lightly.

There was a pause before Natasha’s face flushed with amused exasperation and she hit your arm lightly. 

Despite the silliness, you knew you’d said the right thing. Her small smile was full of relief. The whole room felt lighter.

Natasha stretched upwards to kiss you and you leaned down slowly to meet her lips. 

You felt her smile press against your own.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered, not even pretending to mean it.

‘Sure’ Natasha sounded pointedly disbelieving.

Your smile kicked up a notch. You kissed her again. 

‘Really sorry.’ You added with faux seriousness. ‘That was very inappropriate.’

Natasha moved silently back to her earlier position, head comfortably against your chest. 

Her hand moved to rest on your stomach too.

‘No.’ She murmured with vulnerability that had always been private before now. ‘It was perfect.’

You caught a glimpse of Natasha’s secret smile and let the sweet warmth of it fill you up too.

You also remembered the exhaustion and pain that Natasha was barely repressing. 

You stayed purposefully silent for the next few minutes, watching as Natasha’s eyes drifted closed again. You let the steady rise and fall of your chest be the only movement in the room. 

You made sure to keep stroking her hair gently.

Natasha deserved gentleness.

.

Life is what happens when you're busy missing other plans. 

[please-destroy]

Magic

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

1.6K

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That morning, Natasha came to breakfast brimming with excitement.

You sensed the change in her energy immediately. You ate together at the cafeteria every day, the rigid Shield routine making your schedules generally easy to coordinate. 

You observed her subtly. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. 

Her long red hair was tied back in the usual ponytail. She wore an oversized grey t-shirt and leggings. She looked typically effortless. 

She tapped her fork against the side of her plate.

‘What?’ You asked at last, not able to stand the suspense any longer. 

Natasha looked up from her breakfast and her eyes were electric. So was her smile.

 ‘Are you free this afternoon?’ She asked you, ignoring your own question.

‘Yeah.’ You replied, elongating the sound as you tried your best to read her expression. 

Natasha nodded to herself and glanced down at her plate, You kicked her foot lightly under the table. 

Natasha’s attention snapped back to you and you noted just how bright her smile was. 

‘What do you have planned?’ You smiled back automatically.  

Natasha propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin against her hand. She shrugged her shoulders playfully. Your attention caught on her eyelashes. You pushed down the familiar feeling of attraction. 

‘Wanna have a sleepover?’ She asked you suddenly. The nervous excitement was almost buzzing from Natasha’s skin now.  

Understanding flooded you all at once. 

You forgot sometimes, because it was so easy to be Natasha’s friend.

You forgot that you were her first one.

‘Of course.’ You answered immediately, reaching over to steal a piece of food from her plate. Natasha’s reactions were always better than yours. She swatted you away easily.

.

You made plans to meet Natasha outside that afternoon. 

She refused to tell you where she was. Instead, she sent you a text with a picture of the view from where she was sitting and a smiley face.

You rolled your eyes at her teasing treasure hunt. Natasha was your favourite person. 

She was lying out on the grass behind one of the Shield residential buildings. 

Her eyes were crinkled, squinting from the sunshine as she identified you from a distance. 

Her wave was small. It seemed understated, but you knew she wasn’t this enthusiastic with anyone else.

Natasha got to her feet to greet you, her sunglasses were pushed up into her hair.

You caught her momentary hesitation and you opened your arms with the steady confidence you knew she sometimes needed.

Natasha hugged you with a subtle relief. 

You loved that she was beginning to trust in your friendship. You didn’t mind being patient.

You lay together in the warm sunshine for a few more hours, revelling in the lack of Shield tasks to do. Inevitably, the conversation kept moving back to your evening plans.

Natasha was going to cook you dinner.

She gave you an excited smile when she told you.

Her ear piercings glittered in the sunlight. 

You loved her. 

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The sunshine made you sleepy and you ended up lying back with your eyes closed. Natasha kept her fingers resting gently at the top of your head, picking up her book and flitting through the pages artfully with one hand.

Natasha woke you as the sun was starting to slip behind the taller buildings. 

You smiled automatically when you opened your eyes to the sight of her.

Natasha insisted on carrying your overnight bag as you walked back to her place. 

You let yourself acknowledge your own excitement as you entered her apartment.

You’d only ever visited her place once before, a few months ago. You remembered it mostly for the sparse decoration. 

Now, subtle pieces of her personality had started to clutter the space. It looked much better for it.

Natasha walked proudly through to the living room, it took you a moment to understand her purposefully slow gait and side glances. To realise what she wanted you to see.

Your mouth opened in surprise at the fairy lights that she’d hung along the far wall. 

‘Wow.’ You commented, your heart twisting in a strange way. No one had any idea about this side of Natasha.

Natasha flushed, pulling her hair out of the pony tail and letting the wall of red hair partially obscure her. 

‘It’s silly.’ She murmured.

‘No.’ You smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I think it’s the best.’

You sat together on the sofa and at Natasha’s insistence, you chose something to watch on her laptop. As the evening went on, you noted all the new pieces around you that had been chosen by Natasha. The cartoon Easter bunny on the mug she offered you. The leafy green plant that took up a corner of the room. A birthday card you’d sent her. You tried not to smile too obviously.

.

Natasha made far too much pasta for dinner. You watched her brow furrow in frustration as she realised. 

You told her you didn’t mind but she shook her head.

‘I should have checked the recipe.’ She muttered to herself harshly. Natasha was rarely angry at anyone but herself.

You placed your hand on her shoulder and Natasha’s breath caught. Slowly, you felt the tension leave her. 

‘Sorry.’ She murmured softly after a moment. 

You wrapped an arm around her, giving her a careful side hug. 

‘Don’t apologise.’ You commanded easily. ‘This day is already the best day.’

Wordlessly, Natasha turned around in your hold. Her face buried against your shoulder as she hugged you tightly.

Her vulnerability settled in your chest. 

‘Come on.’ You suggested in a gentle tone. ‘Don’t worry. I know how sleepovers work.’

You led her back to the sofa and Natasha sat down, her head swivelling in confusion as you sat behind her on the very back of the sofa. 

You nodded over to her laptop.

‘This time, you pick.’ You prompted as you split her hair into several pieces and began a simple braid. Natasha’s lips pressed together and you sensed her quiet gratefulness. 

You squeezed her shoulders with your knees affectionately.

As the opening credits of a Julia Roberts rom-com sailed past on the screen, Natasha hummed to herself in satisfaction. 

Slowly, she leaned against your left leg.

You stayed still after you’d finished the braid, not wanting to disturb her. Natasha seemed to have become slowly engrossed in the movie. 

You tried to pay attention too. 

Absentmindedly, Natasha picked up your hand. She threaded her fingers with yours and let them rest near her shoulder. 

You felt shaky with a rush of love.

You tried to remind yourself that this didn’t mean the same to her. You closed your eyes, giving up on the movie entirely as you tried to ground yourself.

Natasha wasn’t your girlfriend. 

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t ruin her first ever friendship. It wasn’t fair. 

When the movie finished and the end credits were rolling, you looked down at Natasha for the first time. 

You should have guessed something was wrong from her silence.

‘Hey.’ You worried immediately as you registered the tear tracks staining her cheeks. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

Natasha’s lip trembled at your acknowledgement. She kept staring at the laptop screen.

‘I’m sorry.’ She told you, and for a brief illogical moment, you thought she was still talking about the pasta.

‘What’s wrong?’ You repeated, as slow rising panic filled you. Natasha had never cried in front of you before. 

You tightened your hold of her hand. 

‘I love you.’ Natasha whispered. You could feel the shivers running down her spine. 

Shock flooded you. 

‘You love me?’ You repeated dumbly. 

Natasha took a shuddering breath. 

‘I don’t want to ruin this.’ She mumbled as she got to her feet. ‘I know it must sound ridiculous.’ 

Your joined hands broke as she started to walk away. 

You watched her clench and unclench her fingers. You realised she was trembling all over. 

‘Natasha.’ You whispered.

‘I just hoped that maybe you might see today.’ Natasha continued nervously, her Russian accent catching at the end of each sentence. ‘That I can be normal, you know?’

She turned to you and her smile made your heart ache.

‘I know that you know some of the things I’ve done.’ She whispered sadly.

.

You’d been part of the extraction team from Budapest. Natasha had never mentioned that mission, but you’d seen the blankness on her face when she’d first arrived at Shield Headquarters. You’d read through her file once. Lots of it was guesswork, but it couldn’t all be wrong.

When you’d first become friends, you’d noticed the constant dark circles under her eyes that told of nightmares you couldn’t imagine.

You didn’t hold the things in that file against her. Natasha already held them against herself.

.

You stood up from the sofa and took a step forward. 

Natasha huffed a nervous breath, brushing a loose piece of hair away from her face.

You took her hand again, and watched a sweet relief calm her expression.

At last, you understood the feeling that was written across Natasha’s face.

You’d been feeling it just as long as she had. 

‘I do know some of the things you’ve done.’ You acknowledged slowly, watching Natasha’s lips part with shallow breaths. ‘There are things I know that you don’t talk about.’

You heard Natasha’s breath catch. You watched her go still with nerves.

‘But that doesn’t stop me loving you. Because I already know your heart.’

You kissed Natasha softly. Her lips pressed hurriedly against yours. 

Kissing Natasha felt like fire in the rain. 

When you broke apart, Natasha’s smile was vulnerable and bright at the same time.

Her skin sparkled under the fairy lights. 

She looked like magic.

[please-destroy]

A Lifetime

Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 1.5k

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Her words:

‘Life is just a series of moments.

I didn’t understand what you meant when you told me what you wanted. You asked for a lifetime with me.

I didn’t know that I could love you like that.

Not that I didn’t. 

You were already my family. You had been since that day in the park. When I sat between your legs on the grass, and we drank lemonade in the sun. 

But I didn’t know that I could. I didn’t think I had permission. 

And when you asked me for a lifetime, I told you of course. But, it wasn’t until that night that I really thought about it.

You were sleeping next to me with this smile on your face, and I knew it was because of me. I touched your fingers because you’d left them lying on my chest. And I realised right then, that you were the only person I wanted to be with. And that now, I was going to get a lifetime because you wanted me too.

When no one’s ever seemed to want you, it’s hard not to hold onto whoever does. I kept joining these families of misfits that didn’t quite make sense. I kept trying to become a person who belonged to something.

Then, I met you.

You don’t remember it. But, there was a night at that bar. The one across the street from our first apartment, with the green door.

I told you about some of it there. I knew you’d seen the gaps in me, but I didn’t know if you’d seen what was missing, what should have been there.

You were so focused on peeling the label off your bottle and, somehow, it made everything easier to say. I didn’t know if I was saying it for you or for me. I hadn’t told anyone those things before. 

I talked about all the parts of me that won’t heal right, no matter how hard I try.

And when I stopped speaking, I realised I didn’t know what you were going to say. And you looked up at me, with this silly smile on your face, and your hand outstretched with your palm up. 

And I realised you’d been tearing me a paper heart the whole time.

I don’t have baby photos, but I have that heart. I lost a lot of chances in life, but I know that I won one with you. 

Life is just a series of moments.

You held my hand when they gave me that shot at the hospital. Noone’s ever done that before. I’d told you it wouldn’t hurt. I told you I wouldn’t even feel it. You kissed my forehead. You wanted to be there just in case. 

You were the first person to really want me. And, you were also the best person to want me.

Wanting you back was so easy. 

I hadn’t thought of anyone like that before. Not in that way. Everything felt transactional or hurtful. I didn’t realise that there was anything in between.

You bought me a balloon. It’s so silly even saying it. Because it wasn’t the balloon. Or that day together at the beach. 

It was when I let it go and it flew away. I didn’t want you thinking that you could have me just by buying me a balloon.

I thought you were going to be so angry when I did it. I think I wanted another reason for you to walk away.

Your eyes looked so warm in the sunshine. You squeezed my hand and I remember you said that you liked watching it fly away. You told me that you liked watching me be free as well. 

That’s why I bought you that painting of the girl with the balloon for our anniversary. I knew you’d love it because the girl looks so happy. I knew you’d understand why it made me think of you.

Life is just a series of moments.

You kiss me in elevators. You pull me onto your lap when I walk past you in the morning. You tell me stories that you’ve saved up just for me.

When you asked me for a lifetime, I told you yes, because I want that too.

Our lives are going to be a series of moments. I want to spend them all with you.’

.

The day it happens:

She takes your hand outside the building, her touch makes your skin tingle. Natasha’s eyes are hesitant. She smiles nervously. 

You squeeze her hand and she blinks with subtle relief. Her smile gets wider, floating like a small boat on the ocean. 

You walk together to the front of the small room. Yelena catches your eye. She’s sitting it the very front row. She’s holding a smartphone upright on her lap, almost submerged by her fluffy coat. You direct a tentative smile at the phone’s camera. Melina is watching from the far side of the room. Natasha hadn’t expected her to come.

Natasha’s hand is still in yours. Everything about her feels warm.

Maria is standing ahead of you. You don’t know her well, but she was Natasha’s choice.

When you stop in front of her, Maria nods her head and you feel something universal shift as the moment begins.

Exchanging the vows would be easy, except Natasha’s looking right at you. She’s wearing a red dress. She wore it on your first date. Your heart is beating through your chest. 

Natasha tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. Her voice hitches and you feel like you’re in a dream. 

The world pauses when she speaks. 

‘Life is just a series of moments.’

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When Natasha finishes, her throat is hoarse. Her words linger in your heart, ready to become embedded in your soul. There are tears in her eyes and she blinks self consciously. 

You squeeze her hands gently between yours. You want her to know it’s okay, that there are tears burning in your eyes too.

Before Natasha says I do, she nods twice to herself, swallowing obviously before she says the words.

She slides the ring over your knuckle and you feel the eyes of the room fall to your finger. You start to smile because the cold metal feels new but Natasha’s touch feels eternal. 

And then you notice that Natasha has started crying, happy silent tears that make you forget your own name.

Your own vows aren’t quite right, but they never would be. There’s a lump in your throat just looking at her. 

After you say I do, you tap the back of her hand with your thumb. I really do, You add emphatically, just to see her smile.

Natasha holds your gaze when you slide her ring onto her finger. 

Her eyes are always a darker green than you expect. Maybe you just see more of her each time you look. 

.

At last, on Maria’s word, you kiss her. 

It occurs to you that you have known Natasha for a thousand sunsets. You have lost count of her kisses. You wonder when gravity left you and she became your anchor to this world instead.

She is the place that will always be your home. 

Her warm lips brush yours like they do every day. You feel your own tears on your cheeks. You will always be her something familiar. 

.

You shoot another small smile at Yelena and her smartphone camera when you leave the room. You are still holding Natasha’s hand, but now your thumb is rubbing the back of her wedding ring. 

Yelena insists on taking photos of you both outside. Natasha’s smile is glorious.

.

There is no after party, no-one else knows. 

You take a taxi back to your apartment. Natasha opens a bottle of champagne and you sit together on the wooden floor of your living room with a pizza box between you.

Earlier, you’d both promised not to eat on the brand new sofa and risk a stain. This is your ridiculous compromise. 

You watch Cheaper by the Dozen because Natasha likes films with big happy families. It feels like an acknowledgement of the future you want together. The champagne hits as the sequel begins. You lay your head on her shoulder as the night slips away. Her hand brushes your neck. You both laugh when her ring gets caught in your hair. 

Every part of your day felt momentous as if you’d hit a big scene in the story of your lives. But the moment is stretching out and you think it might last forever.

Natasha brings back another bottle of champagne and when she returns she kneels over your outstretched legs. She kisses your neck, her free hand twisting in your hair. 

You skim the hem of her dress, careful and longing.

You both forget the champagne. 

You wake up the next morning, and the perfect moment has stretched into the next day.

Natasha is lying next to you. You can tell from the shadows under her eyes that she will wake up tired. You see the red dress thrown on the floor, you spend a minute grinning at the ceiling. 

This moment will go on forever. She will always be.