#Natasha Romanoff x Reader

[salem-witch-slut]

The Madness In Me

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You and Natasha get infected with an alien aphrodisiac that is supposed to induce heat cycles in many species. How will you both cope with this issue? (We all know how)

WARNINGS: SEX POLLEN, enthusiastic consent, drug-induced sex, masturbation, fingering (N!receiving) pussy eating, (r!receiving), violent sex, mutual pining, confessions of love, reader is described as agoraphobic (fear of being in unsafe, unfamiliar environments), no use of y/n

WORD COUNT: 6.1K

This was why you never left the fucking compound. This was the exact reason that you never left when Natasha asked you to come with her somewhere. You told Steve to leave you alone, made aggressive backhanded comments to Rocket, even threw things at Rhodey when he asked for an extra set of hands in the field.

You were an office person. Your job was to keep paperwork in order, make calls, and… do office shit! You weren’t meant for the field, you had no desire to explore the outside world, and you certainly weren’t created for literal space. But everybody was indisposed with other assignments and only you and Natasha were around to help Nebula with something in space.

It should have been a simple task: collect data of the tremors on the planet, run scans, and return the data back to the compound where you could ship off the readings to Carol, wherever she was out in space. The atmosphere was breathable, but lower gravity than Earth so your footsteps were heavier and you felt less balanced.

Natasha was trying not to smirk as you looked so out of your element here, kneeling into mystery colored dirt and plunging several spikes into the ground to pick up the tremor readings. You were trying to ignore her, looking forward to curling up in your bed tonight and forgetting about the terror you felt when passing through the jump point.

“Not meant for space, Nat,” You mumbled, connecting the sensor to the wires and waiting for it to turn green. Natasha knelt down next to you and gently nudged you with her arm. “I’m serious, I want to go home like, now.”

“Do you ever stop complaining?” Natasha rolled her eyes. You looked up and tried not to stare at the way her red roots were starting to overtake the blonde on her head. “We are in literal space, and you can’t stand it.”

“Maybe I’ve got minimal agoraphobia, who knows,” You sighed, running your hands through the dirt under your knees and seeing the sensor start to blink an aggressive yellow color. “Fuck sake, what now?”

“You placed the sensors incorrectly,” Nebula’s voice spoke through the comm on your chest and you flinched. “Do you need any assistance? The diagram was clearly marked—”

“No, I’ve got it Nebula,” You turned off the comm and sighed, pulling out the left most sensor and readjusting the probe so you could properly plunge it into the dirt. “God, why does she always sound disappointed in me?”

“That’s just her voice,” Natasha wiggled one of the sensors, trying to get it exactly like the diagram. She was focused on her task, and you were focused on yours… So focused that you didn’t notice your comm blinking angrily. Nebula was trying to tell you something, but you were ignoring the comm, just simply thinking that she was trying to boss you around again.

…If only you had listened to her.

Nebula was trying to warn you about the pocket of liquid your sensor was far too close to. The pressure under the surface of the dirt was high, and you pierced it just right. That was the cause of the tremors, alright. 

In mere seconds, both you and Natasha were knocked down into the dirt, covered in a translucent red liquid that was far stickier than you were comfortable with. It went up your nose, down your throat, every single part of you was drenched in the fucking substance that felt like it was humming with life. Natasha was just the same, rolling over on her side and coughing aggressively in order to get the liquid free from her throat.

Your entire body hurt, and you looked up at the ship just in time to see Nebula running down the ramp of the spacecraft and approaching you and Natasha. She scowled, looking down at you and crossing her arms. “I tried to tell you to be careful.”

“Next time,” You coughed, spitting out the goop and standing off the ground. Natasha stood up with you, flicking her hands out and trying so hard to get the substance off her body but it was clear that the only way it was coming off was with a high-pressure shower. “Next time, I’m fucking staying home.”

It didn’t take long for the ship to return to Earth. But in that time, you felt like your skin was literally on fire. The heat under your clothes was almost unbearable and you practically stumbled out of the ship towards the compound where you were finding a bathroom and stripping off your sticky garments immediately.

Natasha must have been feeling the same because her face was red, not because of that sticky liquid, and was almost ripping at her shirt as she went to a separate room to take her own shower.

Your clothes sat in a pile on the floor as you stepped into the coldest shower ever, sighing with relief as the heat began to dissipate and you washed away the sticky mess that was the mystery planet gunk staining your skin. It left a red tint behind on your skin that you hated, but at least the feeling of rolling around in glue was gone.

Hands slid across your skin as you tried to make this last, basking in the cold. Your fingers trailed over your belly and then down lower, pausing and feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. There was a residual part of your body that was radiating a painful heat… and not only heat. You turned off the water to your shower and looked down, seeing your arousal literally dripping down your legs.

“What the…” You shuddered, your stomach twisting as you grabbed a towel and began drying your body off. The towel rubbed all over your skin, hands shaking like crazy as you dried your hair and then dragged the fabric between your legs. The contact against your cunt was enough to make you cry out in agony, legs shaking and knees buckling as you hit the ground and curled up. “F-f-fuck…”

This was bad. But who could you even call for this? Who could help you? This had to be a medical issue, right? This wasn’t like your ovulation week or anything, this was nearly unnatural. You’d never been so aroused and wet in your damn life.

“Friday,” You mumbled out loud to the AI that watched over the compound. If Tony could see you now, he would be laughing his ass off. “W-What’s wrong with me?”

“Just a moment,” Friday said, and you could assume she was scanning you. “Internal body temperature is 101 degrees Fahrenheit, and heart rate is 120 resting… Should I call for a medic?”

“No,” You mumbled, standing off the ground and reaching for the robe off the back of the bathroom door, sliding it over your sweaty skin and plopping onto the bathroom floor. “No, this is too embarrassing… Get Nebula, please Friday. She’s from space, she should know what’s wrong with me.”

“I have alerted Nebula. Are you alright, miss?”

“M’fine Friday,” You sighed, pulling your legs to your chest and trying to ignore the ache between your legs… was this happening to Natasha too? Oh, you shouldn’t have thought about that. The thought of Natasha Romanoff in the same state as you, on the ground with her arousal dripping down her thighs… You pulled your hand away from where it was circling your clit at an agonizing rate.

Muscles burning, heart rate through the roof, skin crawling, stomach churning… You were in agony when Nebula came in as you were laying on the floor in nothing but the bathrobe. Sweat dripped from your face as you looked up just in time to get face-to-face with a furry creature that a long time ago would have freaked you out, but you knew Rocket when you saw him.

“The hell did I miss out on?” He looked up at Nebula who scowled before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you off the floor like you didn’t weigh a damn thing to her. Cyborg muscles, you assumed… It was comforting. Her synthetic hands were cold in comparison to your burning hot skin, and you leaned against her touch despite her seemingly indifferent to your affection.

“What’s wrong with me, Rocket?” You sobbed as Nebula sat you down on the counter while the raccoon jumped on the surface next to you and sniffed your body. The scent of the ooze still lingered on your skin, and residue was left behind in a red tint in your hair.

Rocket immediately began laughing. “Just a guess, but smells like a very damn strong dose of pohlavívan sludge.”

“In English, dammit—”

“It’s a chemical used in making stimulants to induce heats for a lot of species in the galaxy… and a very potent aphrodisiac that is sold in some alcohol on Hasbinth V,” Rocket explained as he grabbed at your face and moved your hair away.

Your pupils were dilated and just from your scent alone, Rocket knew what the problem was without a doubt. “Girl, you are horny out of your frickin’ mind—”

“WHAT?!” You shrieked, jumping up and wrapping your arms around your stomach. “I was drugged? Are you k—No, no, no, there’s an antidote, right? There’s always an antidote for—”

“Sorry sweetheart,” Rocket shook his furry head, much to your embarrassment and dismay. “Nothin’ to do but wait ‘til it stops.”

When you glanced at his crewmate, Nebula seemed to look at you with… pity? Either that, or she was uncomfortable just being in your presence. You gulped, asking the question that you didn’t want to ask. “How long?”

“Heat cycles for most species last a week… but humies don’t get them so maybe a few days less than that?” Rocket was in thought, or perhaps he was enjoying your agony far too much as you groaned and pushed your legs together and sunk down on your knees again.

If he said something else, you didn’t hear him. The only thing on your mind was the unbearable throb between your thighs and how you just wanted to touch yourself until the pain ceased finally… But apparently, you had days for this. And Nebula’s last words before she left with Rocket were the worst things you could hear. “It’s going to get worse. We’ll figure out a quarantine situation for you soon… Rocket, we need to check on Natasha; she got hit with the sludge as well.”

“Are you kidding?!” Rocket started laughing. “The assassin and the girl afraid of going outside get doused with liquid sex on the one day I’m busy? I’m not missing anything ever again.”

How could it possibly get worse?

Worse. Worse, worse, so much fucking worse.

It had only been a day for you into quarantine and you felt like you were going to rip your hair out! Your skin was crawling, your face was burning, and you simply stopped wearing anything below the waist because it would just get soaked in seconds from how bad your cunt was dripping… It was humiliating. You felt like a dog in heat.

With every spare second you had, you were touching yourself. Any thought you had was perverse, and you couldn’t stop yourself from having vulgar desires about literally every single woman within your life. You drooled over your memories with Wanda Maximoff before she disappeared into dust and how her touch always felt electric for you. Thoughts of Nebula and her cold stare as she held you down that one time was addicting.

Carol Danvers came to mind and you imagined the being of the cosmos fucking you mercilessly like the beast she was and it had you sobbing as you rutted against the bedsheets that were soaked with your juices, and your sweat.

But the thing that did it for you? Natasha… Oh, the beautiful and sweet Natasha Romanoff… The woman who was suffering just as you were on the other side of the fifth floor where you two were being kept. The thought that she was rubbing herself down on her bed or plunging her fingers into her cunt as well was the thought that had you cumming several times over.

Tears streaked your face as you bit down on your bottom lip and humped at your pillow like some sad fucking desperate teenager. Your clit was rubbed raw at this point, and your cunt was pulsing painfully, but you couldn’t stop. Every time you came, you felt a momentary reprieve of bliss and the shivers would stop, before it came right back and the cycle started all over again.

The only way you got to sleep was with the injections that Rocket brought to you. Nebula was expecting you to have adverse reactions to him when he entered your room, but you seemed to be less than indifferent to his presence. In fact, it was like that with every man that entered your room.

Steve had gone to check on you, and Rocket warned him that you were basically feral and wanted to fuck anything with a pulse, but not him. You looked up at Steve and sobbed before burying yourself under the blankets and hiding.

The opposite was the case when Nebula first entered your room after the symptoms got worse. You knew that once this was all over, you could never look at her the same after you had almost jumped on top of her.

It was the fever talking… and acting… and—Fuck, your own touch wasn’t as helpful as it was before. As the hours dragged on, you felt like your hands were going numb and your heart was practically breaking with how much pain you felt. It was with shaky hands that you reached for the injection on the table next to your ruined bed and jabbed the large needle into your leg.

A small trickle of blood oozed from the puncture wound as you injected the mixture of sedatives into your body and you felt the relief of sleep slowly approaching. The last thing you did was put the used needle down into the incinerator trash can before passing out in your mess. The syringes on your table were labeled with a single word. “SNOW”.

You were happy to rest your burning body, closing your eyes and immediately passing out, drooling on your mattress with the pillow nestled between your thighs. As the hours carried on, your scent just got stronger. You were unconscious for quite some time, but it turns out, someone else couldn’t sleep at all.

Your scent was too strong. It was driving her fucking insane. She couldn’t control herself even if she wanted to. In mere moments, the poor ex-assassin was crawling into your bed, and she didn’t care if you were asleep; she was eating your pussy.

Natasha grabbed at your body and turned you over on your back, pulling the pillow out from between your legs and practically drooling over how your wetness was sticking to the fabric before she bent down and put her entire mouth over your cunt like it was all she needed to survive.

You didn’t react for a good long while. The sedative mixture in the syringes were heavy duty stuff, and for almost forty minutes, Natasha was simply indulging herself on you like you were the most decadent snack she’s ever had and she just couldn’t get enough.

With one hand, she reached down and pressed her fingers against her clit, groaning against you as you squirmed in your sleep slightly, clearly stirring awake after the assassin’s tongue was attacking your cunt for over half an hour. She was basking in your taste, your juices smearing on her mouth and dripping onto the wet bed sheets as she dug her fingernails into your left thigh.

The pain woke you first. The way her nails bit into your skin had you squeaking in pain as you sat up and looked to see what was the culprit. And then the pleasure hit you. Holy fuck did the pleasure hit you. It was completely different from you touching yourself; Natasha was so good. She was so fucking good at this that you felt yourself close to cumming already.

“N-N-Nat!” You stuttered, a loss for words. Natasha looked up through her blonde hair messily splayed all over her damp, sweaty face as she refused to let up. Her tongue pressed flat against your hole and slowly pushed it in. The noise you made was guttural and savage. “Fuuuuuhuuuck!”

Natasha didn’t stop even for a second. In fact, her own hand abandoned her pussy and she forgot about her own pleasure for a moment, the thought of your release in her mouth taking over her entire being. Her green irises were almost overtaken by her blown out pupils. She had tunnel vision. You were at the end. And she ignored the ache in her jaw as she felt your thighs tremble in her hands.

You met her fiery gaze and she saw a small string of drool drip from your lips and she latched her lips around your clit, sucking and making your eyes roll all the way back in your head. That was your final stretch.

Your body arched off the bed and you let out a shriek of euphoria, reaching down and grabbing at her short blonde hair, fingers curling in Natasha’s locks as she felt your taste flood over her tongue. She was in heaven. You had never seen Natasha like this before, and you were upset that it had taken this long for her to eat your pussy like she was a woman starved.

The trembles of your climax began to slowly wear off as you panted, heart racing as you saw Natasha slowly sit up from the bed, your arousal dripping from her lips and her hair a downright mess. She smelled so good, and looked even better. Her skin was glistening as she collapsed on top of you, her arms caging you into the mattress. 

“What are you doing to me?” Natasha panted, but there was no bite in her voice. The tone of her commanding words had your knees weakening again as you reached up and tangled your fingers in her hair. 

“What you do to me,” You said, leaning up a little as you teased the assassin with the promise of a kiss. Your lips were centimeters apart as her mouth hovered and she pressed a single kiss to your nose. Both of you couldn’t stop your heavy breaths as she saw how your eyes were just as dilated, knowing that this was the sludge forcing her hands… And yet, this feels so, so right. 

“Pretty girl,” Natasha teased, her tongue licking at your bottom lip as you whimpered, your knee slipping between her legs and pressing up against her core. The sound she made was enough to have you climbing the walls. The teasing was over as you reached for the back of her neck and pulled her down. 

It was unlike you to feel dominant in your life… Your short list of lovers could attest to that; you were always the submissive type in the relationship. And yet, the aphrodisiac working in your body was screaming to take control. Fingers twitched as you fought your natural instincts for the ones forced into your brain by the drug. 

The kiss was broken when your hands dug into Natasha’s ass, nails biting her skin as she gasped and looked into your eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears as she rolled her hips, grinding her slicked pussy down against your thigh. 

“Y-You know,” You panted, guiding her hips into your leg and shivering at how warm her cunt was on your skin. You wanted nothing more than to fuck the assassin senseless. “This is… j-just that sludge, right?” 

Natasha laughed, tossing her head back for a second as her sweat dripped off her nose. “Is it though, sweetheart?”

You stopped. Your body seemed to shudder all over as you rested both hands on her hips. “Nat, what are you–”

“Later,” She begged, her fingers sliding across your body and pausing to grip at your breasts, squeezing and kneading at the flesh enough for your eyes to roll back in your head. “We’ll talk later… Right now, I need you.” 

How could you say no to that? 

Your fingers grabbed the back of her thighs and in seconds, Natasha was on her back on the bed with you grabbing at her wrists, holding them above her head into the pillow. That beautiful blonde hair with the red roots peeking through was splayed across your sheets. Her skin was glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly with every hard breath she took. 

Natasha Romanoff was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your entire life. 

“Fuck,” You said. You couldn’t think of anything else to say. You dropped down and your lips pressed into hers, hands releasing her wrists as they curled into the bedsheets and you put your knee right back to where it was before. 

Natasha whimpered, her hips bucking up to meet your leg as it felt like shocks going all over her body. In her normal state, this friction wouldn’t have been enough to get her off, but with the drug making everything more sensitive, Natasha swore she could cum just like this. But you weren’t satisfied with it. 

Your right hand slid down from the sheets, caressing over her body and raking your nails over her flat abdomen before sneaking between her legs. The kiss broke as she spread her thighs apart for your fingers. When they came in contact with her cunt, Natasha let out the most unhinged noise of pleasure you’ve ever heard in your entire life. 

You wanted to hear more. Your fingers circled around her clit and Natasha bit her lip, something in her fighting the noises she wanted to make. You weren’t having it as you bent down and kissed the woman’s neck. 

“Come on, Widow,” You teased, your fingers rubbing at her in tight circles and making her even wetter, if that was at all possible because she was already dripping. “Walls are soundproof… Give me all you’ve got.” 

When your teeth sunk into her neck and you slipped your middle finger into her slick pussy, Natasha was past holding herself back. Her entire spine arched off the bed and she gasped, her eyes rolling back and her body reacting to your touch in the most delicious way possible. 

She was so sexy, so fearless, so everything you admired in a woman and now all of your infatuation for the audacious assassin was coming to a point. You had always loved Natasha, and now you were able to show her. You could actually show her how you felt. Without the sludge drug going through your body, you would never have the confidence to even touch this woman, let alone kiss her. 

Things between you two had always been flirty, even before the attack that wiped out half of the universe. Natasha would walk by your office and smile at you, and you would blush before going back to your job. Maybe you would see her outside of your office when she was walking with Steve or Sam. She could smell your shampoo when you walked by and the smell of vanilla was always one of her favorites. 

She liked your fearlessness, even if you were simply afraid of field work. You took the job with the stipulation that you wouldn’t have to do field work, and your place would be behind a desk forever. And then, half of the organization vanished. Your work was forced to change and you didn’t have a choice but to sign your new contract and adapt. 

Much to Natasha’s pleasure, you were more active outside of your office. And there were many times when you would go with her outside of the compound… And then you went to space. You and her went to space. Natasha and you went into outer space, got hit with pohlavívan sludge, and now because of one off-world assignment, you two were about to fuck like rabbits in heat. 

The Widow looked down, watching your wrist flex as you pushed another finger into her cunt and she saw stars behind her eyes, her inner walls squeezing your digits and making you pant with pleasure. It was like you could feel what she was feeling, your heart skipping beats as the scent of her arousal was flooding your senses and clouding everything you once knew.

“Ohmygod,” Natasha cried out. Her eyes were watering as she held the sheets, lifting up her right leg and resting her calf on your shoulder. A growl left your throat as you doubled down and started moving your fingers faster, stretching her around them and feeling her warmth and wetness soak you from the wrist down. “Fuck, fuck that’s it… D-Don’t stop…”

“Never,” You whispered, leaning down and pressing your nose against her cheek. Her moans and whines drowned your senses, encouraging your movements. 

The blonde couldn’t hold it back even if she tried. Never before has she been able to cum so quickly before. Her eyes crossed and rolled all the way back in her head as she reached up for your shoulders and dug her nails in, screaming with blistering gratification. You gave a breathy laugh before it faded into a groan, feeling her nails scrape across your back. 

Natasha created a puddle under her, staining the mattress and ruining the sheets even more than you could have done on your own. You gasped, resting your head against her shoulder as you breathed her in, basking in her aftershocks and gently rubbing at her clit with your thumb as you continued to stroke her inner walls with your fingertips.

The moment carried on for at least a minute before both of you were snapped out of your stupor at a soft beeping sound. 

“What the hell is–” Natasha said, looking around the room for a second before her question was answered. 

“Warning, heart rate levels dangerously high,” FRIDAY spoke over the intercom in your room, a blush turning your entire face red. “Wounds detected. Shall I call for assistance, miss?” 

“No!!” Both you and Natasha screamed, silencing the AI in the walls instantly. You never wanted anybody to see Natasha the way you are seeing her right now. Very carefully, your fingers slipped free from her cunt and she gasped, her nose going into your neck as she wrapped both arms around you and whimpered. 

“Shhh… Shhh, I got you, Nat,” You cooed sweetly, not really sure where this confidence came from. Was it actually the drug making you like this, or were you always capable of this deep down? “Just breathe baby, that’s it… Just breathe for me…”

Natasha’s heart calmed down gradually. You waited patiently for her to pull back away from your shoulder and when she did, you smiled, pushing her blonde hair away from her eyes and seeing that her climax had given both of you a momentary reprise from the stupid aphrodisiac that would be taking effect again in no time. 

“There you are,” You said, rubbing your thumb over her cheek. “You okay,mílaja?”

Natasha blushed at you speaking Russian, chuckling as she reached up with both hands and held your cheeks. “Never better, detka.” 

You rubbed your nose against hers teasingly as a shiver raced down your spine, feeling an odd sensation of wetness on your back. You reached over your shoulder and felt something warm and wet coat your fingertips. When you pulled them back, blood coated your fingertips. Damn, she cut pretty deep huh?

“Jesus,” You cursed, raising a brow as Natasha frowned and immediately began to fuss at the wound she caused. When she managed to wiggle out from underneath you, she saw the lines from her fingernails going down your back and a small amount of blood trickled from the wounds and streaked your skin. 

“M’sorry,” Natasha leaned down and gently kissed your shoulder, wishing she could have held it together and not have caused you harm. “We should… we should get cleaned up, huh?” 

“Yeah,” You agreed, slowly crawling off of the mattress and cursing at how wet the sheets and fabric were under your hands. “We… really fucked this bed up.”

“Don’t worry,” Natasha smirked, reaching for your hand and pulling your body against her own. Your spine pressed into her chest as she leaned forward, her lips ghosting on the shell of your ear and making you shiver. “There’s lots of other places in your room we can ruin too… We’ve got nothing but time.”

It was like her words reactivated the arousal in you. The momentary reprieve ended as your pupils widened and overtook your eyes again as you leaned into her hands, grabbing at her ass from behind you and breathing heavily. “Shower?” 

“Shower. Now.” 

The two days continued just like this. You two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other the entire time. The sludge had made it so your stamina was nearly limitless and you could continue without needing a breather or a break. Natasha was resilient and strong, and she was able to handle anything you threw at her. 

True to her words, you two fucked on every single surface of the room. The showers, the bathroom sink, the kitchen sink, the bed, the floors, the couch, the reclining chair, even in the closet. The room reeked of sex and it felt like you could never get enough of Natasha grinding against your face. 

Your favorite thing quickly became eating her out while she was standing up. You liked how her knees would wobble as she got close and she had to grab the surface she was leaning against in order to not collapse on the floor. 

Natasha found her favorite position. She loved sliding her own slicked cunt against yours, juices mixing together as she held you down and fucked herself against you like it was her fucking birthright. You made the cutest sounds when she dominated and she couldn’t get enough of it. 

With both of you breathing in that small window of clarity after another earth shattering orgasm, Natasha reached for the remaining two syringes on the nightstand, offering one to you as she panted and tears streaked her face. 

“Need to stop,” Natasha panted, ripping the cover off the needle as she looked in your eyes and inserted the sedative into her arm. You nodded quickly, following her and injecting yourself with the SNOW. She used the last of her strength to incinerate the used needles before collapsing next to you on the floor, legs tangled in the wet blankets as your body curled around her own.

 It was ten full hours later before both of you woke up. Sunlight streaked through the window as you slowly began to blink, attempting to wake up and come back to reality. For a second, you felt fine… and then it all hit you at once. 

Your head was pounding. It felt like a hangover times ten. Your entire body was sore and screaming, muscles aching and your stomach growling with ferocity as you rolled over and pushed your entire face into the wet pillow behind your head. 

“Fuck,” You cursed, wanting it to stop already. It wasn’t until you heard a similar groan that you opened your eyes and saw Natasha looking just as ragged as you, if not worse. Deep, dark circles were under her eyes. Her hair was a total mess, and her neck was littered with bruises and bite marks. You flushed, remembering that you were the one to leave those marks. 

“Goddammit,” Natasha groaned, rolling onto her side as she faced you and rubbed her whole hand across her face. It wasn’t until you saw her eyes that the realization set in… The drug was out of your system. Her irises were normal. She wasn’t trying to jump you the second you woke up. 

You two were fine now… Oh shit, you two were fine now… You two fucked nonstop for three days!

“FRIDAY,” You said, voice hoarse and cracking. “Are we okay?” 

A second passed before a beep went off. “All traces of pohlavívan sludge have been removed from your systems. Vital signs, stable.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you flopped on the ground and reached out for Natasha’s hand. To your surprise, she didn’t refuse your touch. In fact, she scooted closer and pressed her forehead against yours, breathing you in like your presence could cure her aches and pains. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, reaching out with her other hand and pushing your hair out of your eyes. You smiled, nodding a little as you lifted up her hand and kissed over her knuckles. The moment was sweet and you were happy to live in it. 

“We uhm,” You swallowed hard. “Should we… talk about this or…”

Natasha rolled her eyes before she leaned forward and captured your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. Your eyes widened. This was way different than before. There was no drug working through your systems to force your hands; Natasha was kissing you and meaning it this time. You melted and returned the kiss, resting a hand on her cheek and relaxing visibly. 

When the kiss broke, the assassin smiled warmly and rubbed her thumb across your cheekbone. “I love you… and this isn’t the drug talking this time, detka… I really love you.”

You thought you were going to cry. “I love you too, Natasha… Fuck, I love you so much it’s sickening.” 

She rolled her eyes before scooting even closer and wrapping her arms around your body and shoving her entire face into your chest. You both reeked and were covered in sweat and cum, but you still couldn’t stop touching each other no matter what…

It was a sweet moment. 

And then the door opened and you reacted on instinct. Without a second thought, you were grabbing at the bedsheet and wrapping it around yourself and Natasha who looked up and saw two people entering the bedroom, and a much shorter, furrier creature slipping between the other two to approach both of you on the floor. 

“Steve, you could fuckin’ knock you know!” You shouted at Captain America who immediately looked away from the scene and tried to hide the redness on his cheeks. 

Rocket ran on all fours towards you as he looked at your eyes and sniffed your skin. “Drug’s completely dissolved. I’m impressed humie… Didn’t think you’d make it through this shit.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Natasha said in an accusatory tone as Nebula stepped around the mess of the room, seeing that you used all of the sedative syringes and blew through the water supply that would normally last a normal human a week, but it barely lasted three days with you and Natasha.

“Lesser humans would not have been able to keep up with the sludge working through their systems,” Nebula spoke. “Many that have ingested the substance did not survive. Their hearts stopped.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell us this earlier?!” You wrapped protective arms around Natasha as the thought of her heart stopping made you so uncomfortable that you felt your skin crawling and your heart racing. “We could have died!” 

“But ya didn’t,” Rocket said, that smug little grin making you scowl. “Both of you are fine. Got through it just fine and now you’ve both had the wildest sex of your lives.” 

“That’s enough,” Steve pushed the door open, keeping his eyes away from both of you. “Let’s give them privacy and a chance to clean up. Come on.”

When the room cleared out, you shared a single look with Natasha before both of you started laughing. So all of this could have been fatal. And the damn raccoon (not that he would admit to being that), had no intentions of telling either of you. And he just let you two fuck senselessly for days because, what, it was funny? 

And deep down… it kind of was funny. 

Both you and Natasha were forced to wear turtlenecks for a few days to cover the hickeys left behind. Steve couldn’t look at either of you without blushing. 

[incorrectquotesmcu]

[Natasha and you are getting married]

The Priest: Do you have any vows?

Natasha: Yes, I do. Y/N, not only are you the love of my life but you’re also my best friend and you got a friend in me. You’ve got troubles, I got them too. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. We’ll stick together and we’ll see it through cause you got a friend in me.

The Priest: Isn’t that the song from Toy Story?

Natasha: They love that movie.

Y/N, crying: I do!

[fandomnerd9602]

Naturally

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

In one universe, your mate was the doe hybrid Wanda Maximoff. In this other universe, your animal-human hybrid mate was your best friend.

Natasha Romanoff. Your wolf pal and fellow co-owner of the Westview Animal Hybrids Sanctuary.

She was your best friend, you started the sanctuary after serving in the armed forces together. The sanctuary’s staff was made of your former teammates including Natasha and her sister Yelena.

Honestly, you had to ask yourself how you hadn’t fallen for her sooner. She had your back and you had hers. You’d laugh at each other’s hidden jokes. Yelena would occasionally give you and her sideways glances.

Natasha felt her feelings stir for you. Every time you smiled in her direction, she could feel her tail begin to wag. Her ears would fall happily a little every time she heard your footsteps.

One such incident happened as you were helping to move supplies into the new Westview Sanctuary complex.

She heard your footsteps. Her tail wagged happily, her ears dropped, and then she saw you hauling boxes in. The light catching your arms just right. Natasha found her heart racing. And then your eyes met hers. Your mouth formed into a gentle smile.

“Hey Natasha” you said with a smile.

“H-hey you” she tried to form a sentence

“Can you—“

“Yeah?” Her tail starred wagging furiously

“Can you get the door for me? I just need to move these things into your office”

“Oh right”

It was driving her nuts. She was head over heels in love with her best friend. It felt so amazing and yet so forbidden at the same time. The mere thought of you was driving her crazy.

Little did your wolf pal realize you were having the same thoughts and the same dilemma. The only difference was you put your frustrations into working out with Yelena.

“You practically wear your heart on sleeve, (Y/N)” the blonde haired wolf snickers at you.

“What are you talking about, Lena?” You give her a slight angry yet confused look

“Oh do not play dumb with me,” she shakes her head, “you and Nattie are totally into each other”

“Me and Natasha?” You try to hide the growing blush on your face. “She’s my best friend, closer to a sister”

“I’m her sister, she does not look at me the way she does at you”

“You’re crazy”

“No you are (Y/N). I’ve only seen Natasha happy around you.” Yelena replies. “You both work so hard for the Sanctuary to run, you deserve to be happy together”

“Thanks Lena,” you sigh, “you’re actually really insightful”

“Thanks. But touch my mac and cheese again and I will kill you” she flashes her claws at you playfully.

Yelena walks out of the gym as Natasha walks in. “go get your chew toy, Fifi” the blonde wolf tells her red headed sister.

“What?” Natasha asks.

She walks up to you, a gentle smile on her face and an enticing swish to her tail.

Natasha picks up a pair of boxing gloves and tosses another pair to you. “You look confused, Chief,” she says with a smile.

“Had a lot on my brain, Nat,” you shrug, “how are the other hybrids adjusting?”

“We got several choosing or calling dibs on rooms,” she replies.

“And you?”

“I’m partial to the little cave out in the courtyard. I’m gonna put in a flat screen, a couch, a kitchenette and a foosball table”

“Foosball? You know I would kick your butt at that!”

“Or you might be too busy staring at it” she mutters

“What?”

“What?!” She blushes. “L-let’s go a round. You and me right now!”

“You’re on, wolf pal of mine!” You jump into the boxing ring and Natasha joins you

By the end of the round, you were pinned to the mat and Natasha was straddling you.

“I win” she purrs

“No contest” you respond. The two of you just look at each other. Her reddish brown wolf tail swishes as she looks at you adoringly.

You were left all sweaty and Natasha noticed, her heart racing with excitement and anticipation. How badly she just wanted to bend further down and kiss you right then and there.

“G-Good job” she tries to say but every part of her brain was on the fritz. “I’m gonna…go…for a run”

Natasha ran off to the sanctuary running track. You were only left with your thoughts.

This line of work you entered with your two best friends was difficult, prone to more bouts of heartache and pain. But if you were going to share that life with anyone, you wanted it to be with her. Her smile, her sense of humor, the way she always knew what to say. You loved her more than anything in the world.

You ran out after her. “Natasha!” You shouted, “wait up!!” She, due to her wolf like agility, was already running laps around the track.

Her mind was racing. It wasn’t right. You were her best friend; you were full human, she was a hybrid. She had a past involving the Red Room. You only dealt with the Red Room on raids. She was—

“Natasha!” Your voice broke through her rampant thoughts.

“H-Hey (Y/N), what’s up?” She said as she came to a halt

“Well besides my best wolf friend running out on me, not much,” you shrug. “Nat I need to tell you something”

“And I need to tell you something too” her eyes show a bit of worry.

You and her found yourselves trying to formulate what to tell each other. And then it all came out as a combined word salad: “I’m in love with you…wait!…what?!…you love me??”

Natasha found herself blushing and her tail wagging furiously, “f-for how long?”

“As long as I can remember. And you?”

“Military training. Day one.” She answers with a giggle. “But I’m a hybrid. A wolf hybrid. I-I’m not sure what the rules are about this”

“You’re still human.” You shrug, “besides we’re best friends and we love each other. What more does anyone need to know?”

“Could you really love me? I mean with my past and…”

You kiss her cheek, “I can and I do”

Natasha’s eyes water up with joyful tears, “oh malysh”

She launches into your arms, hugging you tightly. Natasha pulls back, giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. You gently take her face in your hands.

“I love you Natasha Romanoff. You’re my best friend. My love. My everything.”

“You’re my everything,” she whispers as she closes the distance between her lips and yours.

Her tail wags happily, she wraps her legs around your waist and the sudden shift in balance causes you to fall to the soft grass lawn.

You share a little laugh with your best friend and someday very soon, mate.

“Get a room…or a cave” Yelena laughs from the track although inside she was cheering for you and Natasha.

It was a long road ahead for you and Natasha. A road full of tears and laughter. A road of fear and courage. Honestly, you were looking forward to walk down that road, hand in hand with the wolf girl of your dreams.

Loving her just came so naturally.

Tags @supercorpdanbeau @lifespectator @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @revanshand @iiconicsfan25 @deafeningsharkslimeempath @jacenradio7 @aloneodi @ab1nsur @iamnicodemus @pinklawyerwinnerzonk

[wandaslovey]

just thinking about soft!mommy!wanda and mean!daddy!nat having different ways of punishing reader 😵‍💫 wanda likes edging and nat likes overstim

don’t even get me started… imagine you purposely being bratty all day since you’re two girlfriends hadn’t been giving you enough attention during the day. i mean they had work to do but fuck that, right? they should be giving you attention 24/7!

your insistence on being whiny and bratty never diminished, even as the hours dragged on. not after the many gentle reminders from wanda and not after the (not so) empty threats from natasha to put an end to your attitude.

the 6th time you went into wanda’s office to stamp your foot and whine about not having her attention, she finally caved, curling her finger to beckon you to stand in front of her. you pad over to her desk, clutching a weighted plushie close to your chest. she gives you a stern once over, gripping onto your hip to pull you closer.

is whining the correct way to get attention?

you shake your head, the stuffed animal you were holding now lifted to partially obscure your face in delicate shame.

no baby, it’s not. here..c’mere.

she spends the next hour, teasing and edging you. she brings you to the edge several times as she has you in her lap, then sprawled over the desk and then finally laying across the couch cushions on the sofa against the wall. you whine and mewl, begging for release each time she edges you. every time she starts up again, it’s something different. she uses her tongue, her fingers, a combination and even has you fuck her thigh like the needy slut you are. by the 7th time she’s edged you, you’re sobbing and crying for your release.

shhhh, sweetheart. you wanted this, remember? you wanted mommy’s attention.

natasha had been in her office listening to the scene unfold just next door. she grinned wickedly to herself as she figured it was just about time to unpack the strap she had been hiding in her work pants all day and fuck her little girl till her brain were nothing but mush.

she easily follows the sound of your pitiful whimpers, entering wanda’s office. she walks over to the couch where you lay, wanda’s fingers currently pistoning in and out of your dripping hole.

i think it’s my turn now, hmm? after all the little brat needs her daddy to check her attitude too.

wanda lets natasha take her place, except this time instead of being edged, natasha roughly fucks her fingers inside of you, eagerly sucking your swollen clit into her mouth which instantly sends you into your first orgasm of the evening.

just the first.

after making you cum twice with her mouth, she pulls her thick strap out of her pants, fucking you with it as she has a possessive hand wrapped around your throat. she grunts filthy praises in your ear as you babble nonsense and cry beneath her. when she switches positions, now having you on your hands and knees and her hand clutching onto a fistful of your hair, you cum two more times in this position.

unable to resist the delectable sight of her wife fucking you, wanda decides to join in, stepping in front to kiss you passionately while she tweaks and twists your delicate nipples.

that’s right, detka. take it. take daddy’s cock.

ohh, you look so pretty milaya

come on. one more. one more malen’kaya shlyushka

the two of them send you hurtling over the edge for the fifth and final time. your vision blurs and your limbs shake as your arms finally give out and you fall limply against the couch.

your mind was nothing but a muddled mess by the end. they both kiss you gently, praising you for taking everything they gave you so well.

(god, i love wandanat😩)

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 7

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has to face the harsh reality that she can’t help everyone.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 3790

“Whitney Frost, daughter of Byron Frost—a typical Wall Street tycoon,” Tony’s voice echoes through the phone as he reads out the details FRIDAY managed to dig up.

On Natasha’s screen, she can see multiple files and articles pulled up on Tony’s monitors, the holographic images casting a blue glow on his face as he continues.

“There are plenty of articles about her earlier years. Standard socialite magazine garbage—life of a spoiled rich kid, extravagant parties, lavish vacations. You get the idea.”

Natasha lets out a dry scoff at the irony, her lips curling slightly. 

“Coming from the playboy billionaire who once blew up half of his mansion?”

Tony gasps theatrically, placing a hand over his chest in a wounded gesture. 

“Watch it, Romanoff. I’m helping you here.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha nods. “My bad. Please, continue.”

Tony huffs, turning his attention back to his screens. 

“After her father’s death, she goes dark for a couple of years. No public appearances, no sightings—nothing. Coincidentally, around the same time, reports start cropping up about a new leader rising within one of the East Coast’s major crime families. Descriptions of the leader consistently include one distinct detail: a golden mask, giving them the title–”

“Madame Masque,” Natasha finishes for him, her tone flat.  

“Bingo,” Tony confirms. “Over the years, she’s pulled off some pretty big moves. Arms deals, arson, major heists—she’s dangerous, Nat.”

There’s a shuffle of papers in the background, and Peter’s voice chimes in. 

“I don’t get it, Mr. Stark. If she was already rich, why turn to crime?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“It’s not always about money,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just about power and control.” 

A brief silence follows, the weight of her words sinking in. 

Tony’s expression darkens slightly, and even Peter doesn’t offer a rebuttal. They all know Natasha is right. 

People like Whitney thrive on domination, bending others to their will. 

Natasha’s frown deepens, her thoughts drifting back to the night before—the memory of you leaving with Whitney still fresh and raw. She exhales slowly, the sting of hurt in her chest flaring again, though she pushes it down. 

Suddenly, Tony’s voice cuts through the quiet. 

“Okay, I can’t ignore this anymore. What are you doing?” 

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion as she glances at the screen. “What do you mean?”

Tony leans closer to the camera, pointing a finger at her with exaggerated disbelief.

“Why are you bottle-feeding that cat like it’s a baby?”

Natasha pulls Widow closer, cradling the tiny feline protectively against her chest. In her free hand, she holds a small baby bottle filled with water, offering it near the cat’s mouth. 

“She still won’t eat complete meals,” Natasha explains defensively. “At least this way, she’s staying hydrated.” 

Widow lets out a faint, sad meow, turning away from the bottle and burrowing deeper into Natasha’s arm. 

Natasha sighs softly, her expression tinged with disappointment as she looks down at the cat.

Peter’s voice pipes up from off-screen. 

“Miss Romanoff, I could go pick up some different kinds of cat food if you’d like?”

Before Natasha can respond, Tony waves him off. 

“Great idea, kid. Take my card and have at it.”

“Awesome,” Peter replies, his excitement evident as he disappears from view. 

As soon as Peter is gone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Was that really a good idea?”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” 

“So, what is it?” Natasha asks knowingly. She can tell Tony got rid of Peter so that he would not hear whatever it is Tony was holding back. 

“Some tough love,” he says bluntly, his relaxed demeanor shifting into something more serious. He leans forward, fixing her with a pointed look. “Look, Nat, if your friend is running with people like Whitney Frost, you might need to face the facts.”

“Which are?” Natasha’s tone grows colder, her jaw tightening.

“She’s a criminal,” Tony states flatly, the words landing like a stone.

Natasha’s frown deepens, the label grating against her as she reflexively clutches Widow a little tighter. “And?” 

Tony sighs, shaking his head as if she’s missing the obvious. 

“You need to start treating her like one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow. 

“Did you forget I used to be an assassin?” she counters, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“And now you’re an Avenger,” Tony fires back without missing a beat. “Not everyone’s like you, Nat. Not everyone wants to change.” 

The silence stretches between them, tension simmering as Natasha processes his words.  

Seeing her still hesitant to accept the fact, he adds softly, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t even want it.”

Natasha frowns, her eyes drifting down to the little cat in her arms. She strokes her fur delicately, and Widow returns a faint purr in response, though she still refuses to move much more than that. 

“Send me everything you have on Whitney and Madame Masque,” Natasha says, her determination resolving. 

She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

Tony studies her for a moment, his expression knowing before he sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“Already done.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A deep sigh escapes Natasha as she rubs her tired eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The hours have stretched into the late night, a glance at the window and then at the clock on her tablet confirming just how much time has passed.

Beside her on the couch, Widow is curled into a small ball, her tiny body seeming to shrink further with every passing moment. 

The meal Natasha had prepared for her earlier sits barely touched—a few nibbles at best.

Though, in her tired mind, Natasha can’t help but let a stray thought creep in: maybe her cooking is bad enough to deter a cat. 

The self-deprecating humor makes her sigh again, a sure sign of just how drained she feels. 

Setting the tablet on the table, Natasha leans back against the armrest of the couch, her head tilting to rest against the cushion. She raises an arm to cover her eyes, allowing herself just a brief reprieve, not planning to sleep but needing the darkness to ease the strain from hours of research. 

For a while, the silence wraps around her like a blanket. 

Natasha focuses on her breathing, the steady rise and fall helping her ground herself. 

Eventually, she debates whether she has it in her to dive back into her work for the night when a sudden movement shifts at her side. 

Tiny paws pad up her torso, and then a soft weight settles against her stomach.

A familiar, distinct meow breaks the quiet—a chirping, happy sound Natasha hasn’t heard from Widow in days. 

She freezes, her body going rigid as suspicion blooms in her chest. Breathing slowly, Natasha tries to maintain her sleeping position so as not to give herself away.

Widow’s sudden shift in mood—it could only mean one thing.

“I know you’re awake,” your voice cuts through the stillness, warm and teasing from just above her.

Realizing she’s caught, Natasha exhales softly with a mix of both relief at your presence but also mild frustration at the fact that you were able to sneak up on her again. 

She removes her arm from her eyes, blinking up to meet your gaze.

You’re leaning casually against the back of the couch, your head tilted and resting atop the cushion, a small smirk on your lips. 

“It’s way too early for you to have fallen asleep,” you tease lightly, your voice carrying that familiar playful lilt. 

Your attention shifts to Widow, who’s now eagerly leaning against the cushion to lick at your outstretched hand. 

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” you coo, your tone softening as you address the little cat.

Widow chirps again, louder this time, in agreement and nuzzles against your hand with obvious affection. 

Natasha can’t help but scoff, shaking her head at the way the two of you seem to operate as a perfect team.

Carefully, she sits up, trying not to disturb Widow perched atop her. 

However, the movement brings her face unintentionally close to yours. She stills as she realizes the proximity, her lips parting slightly as the quip she intended to deliver gets caught in her throat. 

Instead, all that escapes is a soft exhale. 

Your smirk falters, replaced by a small, almost sad smile. Your eyes search hers, lingering as if you can see something more beyond her carefully maintained exterior. 

The intensity of the moment steals Natasha’s breath, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. 

Breaking the tension, you lift a hand into view, holding up a bag of takeout containers.

“I brought dinner,” you say softly, the warmth in your tone cutting through the charged silence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits cross-legged on the couch, a takeout box resting limply on her lap as her attention drifts away from the half-eaten meal inside. 

Instead, her gaze falls on the two of you. 

You’re seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, also cross-legged, with Widow nestled comfortably in your lap. 

The little cat looks more content than she has in days, her tiny paws resting on the edge of the table as she eagerly eats the torn-up pieces of meat you prepared for her. 

A wave of relief washes over Natasha at the sight of Widow eating normally again, her movements lively and natural. It eases the knot of worry that’s been sitting in her chest, but as always, her focus inevitably drifts to you. 

It’s a pull she can’t resist, her gaze lingering on the subtle details in your expression, the quiet ease with which you handle the moment. 

Natasha absently stirs the noodles in her box, her mind turning over the question she’s been holding back since you arrived. It gnaws at her, but finding the right way to ask feels like navigating a minefield.

“How…” she begins, her voice hesitant, but the words falter. 

Natasha bites her lip, uncertain whether she has the right to pry into your life any deeper. 

You glance up at her, catching on to the unfinished question. Setting your takeout container on the table, you tilt your head slightly, offering her an easy opening. 

“How am I here?” you ask knowingly, your voice gentle.

Wordlessly, Natasha nods, grateful but wary of the answer.

“You didn’t look at the USB?” you ask, a touch of curiosity in your tone. 

Natasha shakes her head. 

“I was busy worrying about more pressing matters,” she says, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Widow, who’s still munching happily in your lap. “And anyway, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to have it in the first place.” 

You huff lightly at her words, and with an amused shake of your head, you turn Widow to face you, your fingers gently scratching behind her ears. 

“You were supposed to give it to her,” you chide playfully. 

Widow lets out a small, sassy meow, as if to argue her point, and then wiggles free from your grasp. 

Natasha watches with mild curiosity as the little cat pads over to the side table, where the USB has sat untouched for days. Widow grabs the small device in her mouth and trots back toward Natasha. 

Stopping at her side, Widow drops the USB onto Natasha’s lap with a decisive plop before looking up at her with a smug little chirp, her tail swishing behind her. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile as she picks up the USB. 

“Thank you,” she remarks dryly, her tone soft but teasing.

Widow lets out a pleased meow, circling once before hopping back into your lap, her little body nestling comfortably against you. 

Natasha’s gaze shifts to the USB, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully, before lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“So,” she says, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity, “what exactly am I going to find on here?” 

You glance down at Widow, stroking her head absently as you answer, your voice steady but carrying an undertone of something more. 

“Whitney had a scheduled meeting out of state with some buyers tonight.” 

At the mention of the other woman, Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines. 

“So this is…?”

“Everything you need to finish your original mission,” you reply evenly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “The buyers’ identities, their locations, the details of each weapons deal. Enough to track them down and stop the weapons from being used in the wrong hands.” 

Natasha studies you closely, her sharp instinct catching on to the underlying reason for your sudden assistance in her original mission. 

“To shift my attention from Whitney.” 

Your silence at her pointed remark is telling. 

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, the unspoken truth hanging between you. She tilts her head, her voice firmer now. 

“Why are you protecting her?” 

You flinch slightly at the accusation, your hand pausing mid-stroke on Widow’s fur. After a moment, you let out a sigh, your gaze drifting downward. 

“You know, it wasn’t always like this between us,” you say quietly. 

Natasha stays silent, letting you continue.

“Her dad—her real dad—was the original leader of the organization,” you explain, your voice tinged with something softer, almost nostalgic. “I met her when she was training to take over his position. Or, rather, she found me. I was just a simple thief back then. But not to her.”

You pause, your hand resuming its slow strokes over Widow’s fur as you collect your thoughts. 

“She made me an offer—something I never expected. Another opportunity for my life. To join her. She saw something in me. Something…more.”

The words hang in the air, and Natasha feels a pang of understanding, recalling her own experience from the past. 

“It felt good,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having someone look at you like that, like you’re worth something. Like you could be more than you ever thought of yourself.” 

You let out a soft, bitter chuckle. 

“She’s always been good at that. Making you feel special. Like you’re the only one who matters.” 

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly, her arms folding across her chest as she listens. She doesn’t interrupt, sensing the weight behind your words.

“No matter what she did—how far she went—I always found a way to forgive her,” you continue, your tone darkening. “Until I couldn’t anymore.” 

There’s a long pause, the quiet broken only by the faint sounds of Widow’s contented purring. Finally, you lift your gaze to Natasha’s, the vulnerability in your eyes stark, unguarded, and disarming.

“And then I met you,” you say softly, your voice carrying a bittersweet edge. “And for a while, I felt that same thing again. That feeling from the beginning—when it was just lighthearted, fun, and flirty, intoxicating even.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her chest tightening at the quiet admission. The honesty in your words cuts through the usual banter and teasing, leaving her unsure how to respond.

“But I already know how this ends,” you add, your voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’ve seen it before. And I can’t…” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, the words left unfinished. 

Natasha watches you closely, her sharp gaze softening despite the weight of your rejection. She leans forward, her voice low but steady in understanding. 

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.” 

Her tone shifts, gaining a quiet intensity and insistence.

“But you don’t need to stay with her either. We can figure out a way to disengage the bomb without you returning to her. A way to keep you both safe.”

Your gaze lowers, regret flickering in your expression. When you finally speak, your voice is heavy with sorrow.

“I have to go back.”

Natasha’s lips part in protest, her brows knitting together in frustration, but before she can speak, you cut her off, your tone firmer now.

“Not because of the bomb,” you clarify. “But because of what I did to her.”

You rise slowly, retrieving the tablet from the table, its screen still displaying the research Tony sent on Whitney. Sensing the shift, Widow hops into Natasha’s lap, purring softly as Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself.

Sitting down beside her, you scroll through the files until you find what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you turn the screen toward her. 

Natasha scans the report, her frown deepening with each line. 

It details a failed raid on a Stark Industries facility, ending in a catastrophic explosion. Operatives were killed or gravely injured. Their leader, however, was not discovered among those found.

“I abandoned her that night,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “None of that would have happened if I had stayed.” 

“You don’t know that,” Natasha counters firmly, her gaze snapping to yours, her hand reaching out instinctively to rest atop yours.

A faint, sad smile tugs at your lips at her touch, and you shake your head slightly.

“I appreciate the thought,” you reply, your voice tinged with bittersweet humor, “but we both know that’s not true—especially considering how I’ve managed to sneak past Stark’s defenses twice now without any problems.”

The smirk you add at the end is small, almost fleeting, but it carries a sting of truth that Natasha can’t ignore.

You’re exceptionally skilled. She can’t deny that.

Your fingers brush hers lightly, tracing the bandages covering her knuckles. A contemplative sadness crosses your face.

Then slowly, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft, almost apologetic kiss against her skin before lowering it back onto Widow’s fur.

“I’m not innocent here, Natasha,” you continue resolutely, your voice low, as if the words are for you as much as for her. “I never was.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens at your words, but she doesn’t interrupt as you continue. 

“I owe her a lot,” you admit, your voice heavy with the weight of your past. “She gave me a chance when no one else did. She saw something in me that I couldn’t. And yet…” Your voice falters slightly, but you press on.  

“I still betrayed her in the end.”

Your gaze shifts to Natasha, your eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that makes her chest ache. 

“You deserve more than to wait for me to eventually do the same to you,” you say softly. “More than I already have.” 

Natasha’s chest tightens, the quiet ache spreading as she watches you, her gaze taking in every flicker of pain and regret etched across your features.

But this time, it’s not sadness that rises within her—it’s anger. Not at you, but at everything else.

At Whitney, for manipulating you. At the circumstances that have pushed you to this breaking point. And most of all, at the invisible chains of guilt that hold you hostage, preventing you from seeing a way out.

Her hands twitch, the urge to reach for you almost overwhelming. She wants to close the distance between you, to grasp your shoulders and shake you free from the weight of your past, to tell you that this isn’t your only option.

But she hesitates, her fingers curling into fists as she forces herself to stop.

Forcing you to accept her help, no matter how badly she wants to, would make her no different from Whitney. It would just be another form of control, another pressure you don’t deserve.

And Natasha refuses to become that.

Instead, after a long pause, she speaks with quiet determination.

“What will happen to Widow?” 

You look down at the small cat, curled up peacefully in Natasha’s lap, and sigh. 

“I can’t bring her back with me,” you admit, your voice thick with regret. “But I’ll stay with her as long as I can tonight. Make sure she’s okay, and I’ll explain it to her—let her think it’s like last time, when she stayed with you while I was away.” 

You glance at Natasha, searching for her response. 

“If…you’re still willing to take care of her?”

Natasha straightens slightly, her expression softening as a small smirk forms on her lips.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Your lips twitch into a faint smile at her answer, gratitude flickering in your eyes. 

But Natasha isn’t done. She leans forward, her tone resolute as her gaze locks onto yours.

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself,” she says, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “If you feel guilty about what you’ve done, you can always make it right for yourself. You still have that choice.” 

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, an unspoken plea woven into her steady tone. 

Natasha’s expression holds no judgment, only quiet insistence and something deeper—hope.

The silence that follows feels fragile, as if it could shatter at the wrong move. 

Widow shifts slightly in her lap, her tiny body curling closer as her soft purring fills the space between you. 

It’s a faint sound, but comforting nonetheless, grounding you in a moment that feels far too heavy for words.

For a fleeting second, Natasha sees something in your eyes—an almost imperceptible flicker, as if her words might be reaching you. 

But then your gaze drops, breaking the connection, and the moment slips away. 

Without a word, you gently lift Widow from her lap, cradling her with the same care Natasha has come to associate with you, and rise to your feet. 

Natasha sits up a little straighter, her sharp eyes following your movements as you step toward the hallway, your figure outlined by the dim glow of the room.

“Try to get some rest, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone steady but carrying a subtle finality that roots her in place. You pause just before disappearing from sight, your head turning slightly as if debating whether to say more.

“You, out of everyone, deserve it.” 

The words linger in the air long after you’ve gone into your bedroom, wrapping around Natasha like a quiet echo. 

She stays where she is, her fingers drifting absentmindedly over the fabric of the couch where you’d been sitting just moments ago, as if tracing the memory of you.

The warmth of your presence is gone, replaced by an emptiness that spreads through the room, making it feel colder, quieter. 

Natasha exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch and staring at the space where you had disappeared from her view. 

She knows you meant those words for her, but the ache in her chest tells her they’re something you’ve denied yourself for far too long. 

“So do you,” she whispers into the empty room, her voice barely audible but filled with a longing that she knows you’ll never let yourself hear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: Fair warning, I believe there’s only a couple parts left in this series. But don’t quote me on this cause we all know I’ve never been good at predicting the number of chapters left. Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

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[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part three (8.929 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It may have been two years since the events, but you still can't stop think about what you've lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

“I am a hero,” you whispered in your breath, “and that’s what heroes do,” you added, repeating the sentence once more. You were trying to find a little bravery in this mantra, the one you needed to push your limits a little further.  Yet, all you find in these words is deep despair, because a part of you knows that they are not true — and you are not a hero. Not anymore. You tried to believe Fury’s lies. You wanted to believe them, and deceive yourself because it gave you a bit of hope, a reason to carry on, but the illusion couldn’t last for eternity. What’s a hero when they are hated by the whole world? A villain.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader (platonic), Other Avengers x R. Angst with comfort, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, severe injuries, no happy ending.

| Author's notes — This is the last part of the "Devious Lies" serie, and I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Many people would say that you are not a hero, not anymore. You have lost this title years ago, the day you revealed your true face to the world by cheating on Natasha —; how could they trust someone with their lives when that person can’t even remain loyal to their girlfriend? A hero is not a human, it is a perfect being that exists for the sole purpose of saving the world, and making children dream. You exist only to give hope to the population, but there is none once they discover that you are just like any of them, someone full of flaws, and failures, just a mess —; just human. 

Who knows the horrible things you might have done in the past, or the numerous lies you could have said to twist the reality? Not them, because they know nothing of the truth behind your departure, but they were still convinced that you were a monster who had been lying to them all this time, and it was too late to undo their hatred. A few days had been enough for rumours to spread, suddenly everyone had a story to share that proves how wicked you were. These stories have slowly replaced those of your greatest achievements, the many times you saved the world now forgotten in favor of all the little things you did wrong.

And you know these stories by heart because you have read about them in newspapers, heard them on television and in cafés. Wherever you go, these rumors follow you, they stick to your skin like an obsessive ex that won’t let you go, even after several years. The people never forget, nor they forgive.

Yet, none of them had the courage to hate you to your face. No, it was always behind your back, a bunch of glances they thought were discreet and whispers as soon as you turned around. You might not be their hero anymore, but you haven’t lost your abilities, and they are aware that you could easily kill any of them in less than a minute. But, instead of letting the anger consumes you, you pretended to not see the fear in their eyes, mixed with hatred. Except that, the longer this situation lasted, the more difficult it became for you to ignore their hostility. You would lie if you said it didn’t bother you to see these emotions replace the admiration that used to sparkle in their eyes.

If you are being honest, you have thought about it, about killing some of them. These thoughts come to your mind more times that you care to admit —; it would be so easy to snap their necks so you will never hear their hateful whispers again.

What do you have to lose anyway?

Nothing you haven’t already. At worst, they will send you in prison, but to your exhausted mind the idea sounded more tempting than repellent. Sometimes, you think about it as a sweet dream, and it brings you some peace —; if you were in prison, you would be blessed with ignorance. If you were in prison, they would have a real reason to use these slurs. If you were in prison, you would eventually be where you deserve to be. But, no matter how many times you thought about it, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and so, instead, you shut yourself away in your crappy apartment, where you could no longer harm anyone.

—   —   — 

“But you are still a hero,” the man told you. It was months ago, almost a year, and it was the first time you had seen Fury since the events that led you to take a break. 

A break that was coming to an end, and that you were desperately trying to prolong. Unfortunately, the man is as stubborn as you are, and he is determined to convince you to return to the field. He needs you, and that is obvious, even though those words haven’t crossed his lips. You can feel his desperation. 

You disagree with him. 

You are not a hero, and he definitely doesn’t need you. There are dozens of agents more talented than you are, dozens of promising, and less controversial, souls who deserve a chance. He should better abandon you now, and let you rot in your apartment, because he will be disappointed sooner or later. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you stayed quiet, because the words were stuck in your throat.

“Don’t tell me that you are that kind of agent?” he asked, to fill the silence. The tone of his voice had changed slightly. There was something petty about it, something that is crawling under your skin —; it is the disappointment that his words carry. Yet, you have no idea what he is talking about —; “that kind of agent”? The worlds held no meaning to you, but you could still feel that they didn’t bode well, and that you didn’t want to be that kind of agent. You can see his eyebrows rise in anticipation of an answer you can’t give him.

“What kind?” you asked back, without any conviction, just because you know that is what he expects. You accompany these words with a sigh.

You are not in the mood for this kind of game. You only want one thing, and it is to go back to your apartment, to slip back into the comfort of your sheets and stay there for days to come. In fact, you may never leave them ever again. That is the only place where you can ignore the world, where all your worries disappear along with the rest. The only place where you do not need to be human, or pretend to be strong, where you can be a mess, and no one would be here to judge.

You were really not comfortable at the idea of coming here, to Fury’s office, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. 's headquarters, and being there makes the feeling even worse. He promised you that no one would know, but how could he be sure? The mere thought that one of them could see you there makes you nervous, and prevents you from concentrating.

What if it happens?

What if, despite Fury’s promises, you run into one of them?

You have no idea what you might tell them if it happens. Is it better to beg for their forgiveness, or would it be too much? You bet they wouldn’t even listen to you, anyway —; they haven’t in the past, why would it be different a year later?

Maybe they won’t even acknowledge you, and you should probably do the same —; but wouldn’t it be worse? You are not sure that you could handle this possibility, that you could walk by the people that once were your family as if they were complete strangers.

Maybe it is better if they decide to scream —; that is what a part of you is craving for, no matter how twisted it can be. Because, if they scream, if they still hate you, it means that they care, right? No one would take some of their time and energy to yell at someone they don’t care about, right? Because it wouldn’t make sense.

“The kind that does it for fame,” he replied, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was so intense that it made you want to disappear. You hate it, the way he looks at you, as if he knows all the secrets of your soul, and so you are fidgeting in your seat, unable to stay still because of your nerves.  

“No, I am not,” you sighed the words that you knew the man was expecting you to say, falling right into his trap. You are conscious of it, but you are too exhausted to fight, and it is way much easier to give the man what he wants.

Yet, your voice is full of uncertainty —; does it make you a bad person to want to stop helping people? At least, that is what he seems to be suggesting, and maybe he is not wrong. Maybe the only reason you want to stop is because you are selfish —; anyone with your skills wouldn’t hesitate to save the world. But not you, not anymore. Why? When did you become one of the bad guys, one of those who don’t care about others?

You want to tell him — to yell at him — that it is not about lost celebrity, that it was about being hated by almost every soul living on earth, but the words get stuck in your throat —; what’s the difference, after all? Are you really gonna let people die because they do not like you, is that the kind of person you became? No, it is not, and it will never be.

“Does that mean I can count on you?” he asked, and you answered with a murmured yes, because that is what he wants to hear, and because you only want this conversation to end. From the very moment you sat on this chair, you have been eyeing the exit, and you are more than willing to give the man what he wants in exchange for the right to leave.

—   —   —

“I am a hero,” you whispered in your breath, “and that’s what heroes do,” you added, repeating the sentence once more. You were trying to find a little bravery in this mantra, the one you needed to push your limits a little further. 

Yet, all you find in these words is deep despair, because a part of you knows that they are not true — and you are not a hero. Not anymore. You tried to believe Fury’s lies. You wanted to believe them, and deceive yourself because it gave you a bit of hope, a reason to carry on, but the illusion couldn’t last for eternity.

What’s a hero when they are hated by the whole world? A villain. It has been several years since you lost the title of hero. It is not about your great successes anymore, it is about all the mistakes you have ever made, the ones that make you detestable in the public’s eyes. Now, you are just an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and a controversial one at that. You are the rotten apple that the direction doesn’t really know what to do with. They might desperately need you — or, more accurately, your skills — but they do not want the world to discover that they didn’t fire you despite what they had announced to ease the minds.

Nevertheless, you had agreed to pretend, and to play Fury’s little games, because you didn’t know what else to do. You have been a little lost since you left the team, and the missions you were regularly sent on were a good distraction, but it has been months now, and you do not have the energy to pretend anymore.

Once this mission is over, the first thing you are going to do is to tell the man that it is over, you are quitting — yeah, you are going to leave the agency, and start a new life. The idea sounds appealing, and warms you heart with an emotion you thought you had forgotten; a will to live. You have waited long enough. You are not sure what you are going to do yet, but you know that it will be better — anything would be better than your current life. It will be a second chance, and a real one this time. Maybe you will change your name, and your face, and so you could be anyone you want to be — someone that no one hates. 

But, for now, the only thing you want is some rest. Slowly, your limbs become numb and, soon enough, you are not able to walk anymore, the ground disappears beneath your feet and you collapse into the snow, your legs unable to support the weight of your body. 

Maybe that is your second chance, you thought. Maybe the afterlife will be gentle.

It is so tempting to just close your eyes, to let the cold soothe your pain, and take all your worries away. You don’t know how long you have been walking, wandering around, waiting for help that may never come — probably for days. Days that seemed like an eternity. You were trapped in a landscape that you would surely have found magnificent, had the circumstances of your presence here been different.

The snow falling from the sky covers everything, and not an ounce of greenery escapes it. Yet, the sight wasn’t comforting — it was threatening, and scary. It was so cold that you couldn’t feel your fingertips. Everything was white, and all looked the same, turning the forest into a maze with no way out. The trees rose up, mocking and oppressive, as if they were only waiting for the moment you would give up.

Be patient. It will be soon, you thought, as your body hit the ground in silence.

You hardly notice you’ve fallen. You don’t even have the strength to try and get up, but maybe you don’t want to. The snow forms a gentle embrace, and you feel it begin to cover you in white too. Soon, you are going to disappear, and you’ll become a part of the landscape — How is it going to take, for nature to hide your body, to make it seem like you have never been here? A few hours? And how long would it take for them to find you? Probably more time. Who is “them”, anyway? You are not sure someone is coming from you, and despite your hopes, it is more likely that they won’t come. Did you forget that you have no one? If people do not care enough to show up at your funerals, do you really think that they would go to the trouble of looking for you in the middle of nowhere? What an idiot you are, you should know, by now, that there is no hope.

No one is coming. 

Even though the idea might sound sad, it brings a small smile to your face, as well as a weird sense of comfort — The peace you’ve been looking for is eventually within your reach. Soon, the world is going to forget your name, and your story. Maybe they won’t even know that you died here, alone in the woods, where no one can find your body.

You have tried to warn them about the situation. A last desperate plea for help to be sent, but you never found out if they got your message because your broken radio had died before they could confirm. Despite being an experienced agent, you have been caught out of guard by the situation — Should you wait for them here, or should you try to find a way back home on your own? The decision was made for you when the enemies started looking for you, there was no way you could escape them by staying in their base. Outside, you could hide more easily, and maybe even find a way out of here.

Yet, the days went by, and all you have done is get lost in the forest, a labyrinth made deadly by the snow and very low temperatures. There is no room for life in this place, and the fact that you survived for a few days is a miracle in itself.

You were perfectly aware of the risks when you accepted the mission. There are always high risks in this profession, and you were prepared to take them all, even the most irrational ones because nothing scared you — That’s your strength, you’ve never shied away from a mission. You knew that it wouldn’t go on forever, and that the risks you were taking would eventually lead to your demise — But who cares? Not you, nor Fury. Maybe it was exactly what you were both looking for-; the man wanted a soldier, and you wanted a way to die with dignity, which is exactly what he offered you.

And so, you accepted every mission he presented to you, worked on every file that was put on your desk without thinking twice about it. There was always a good reason to accept, many lives to save, and countless threats to the world, and for that, you were willing to take the risks that nobody else wanted to take. That’s what heroes do, right? They put their lives in line, for the sake of the population. 

So far, you have done surprisingly well, successfully returning from each of your missions. Yet, you knew it was only a matter of time before you ran out of luck. Maybe your current situation is solely your fault, for thinking that you could keep pushing your limits indefinitely — For forgetting that you are not a hero, only human. The blood between your fingers is there to remind you of that. It is red, as the one of all the people who live on this planet, and you can pretend all you like that you are a hero, but you’ll never be able to escape your condition, that of being human.

Yet, there is something oddly comforting in watching your blood staining the snow. Something that cradles you until your eyes close, something that helps you accept your destiny. These bloodstains are the silent promise that peace will soon arrive, the peace you have waited patiently for for years.

—   —   —

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” the woman screamed, her voice echoing throughout the room. No one dared looking at her, everyone avoiding her gaze. The team had just returned from yet another search mission, one of their last hopes of finding you, only to inform her that they had lost track of you — Again. 

The woman knows that she should not have listened to Clint when he told her that she’d better stay in the Quinjet and rest, something she has clearly been lacking in recent days. He even promised her that he would do his best. They all promised, but it was just lies. 

Natasha has waited for them for hours, obviously unable to rest because she was so consumed with anxiety. She had walked the whole length of the Quinjet more times than she can count, waiting for their return. When they came back empty-handed, she was furious. Not only they didn’t find you, but above all they had lost the only hint of your presence that they had managed to find since the search began, almost a week ago.

If she had been with them, things would have been different. She would have found you, she is sure of it — because she would have refused to come back before that happened.

Everything now seemed hopeless, and everyone was aware of this. That probably explains why they are abiding her gaze, not to escape her anger, but because they do not want to witness the pain they could read in her eyes. The spy had always been good at hiding her emotions, and no one had ever been able to read her — even after you left, two years ago, she remained composed — but her mask had started to crack in the last few days, and everyone could now see her worries. 

Natasha was the one who insisted for the Avengers to come for you, and although she insists that this decision is only motivated by her duty, everyone knows there is more to it than that — Feelings that the years had not erased, strong ones that she had buried, but which were resurfacing since she learned that you were in danger. You are her weakness, you are the only one that can make her lose her temper that easily, it is as if she was suddenly a child again — One with emotions too big for his understanding. It is like two years ago, when she saw the pictures and felt her heart being shattered.

“It is okay, I am sure that we are going to find her,” a voice raised, and it was Fury’s. The man was the only one to be brave enough to do such a thing, the only one who didn’t fear the redhead, even though he was the one who should be most wary. The man is standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his arms crossed — They could have been talking about their next meal, and he would have had the same fucking attitude, she thought. “She is strong, and smart. I am sure she will find a way to survive, do not underestimate her, Romanoff,” he calmly added, but his disastrous attempt to calm the atmosphere has the opposite effect — All she wanted to do was to violently rip the expression on his face, she couldn’t stand the overconfidence she could read on it, and the calmness that didn’t fit with the seriousness of the situation. 

“You know nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth, the only way she had found to not scream at him, “you are just trying to make yourself feel better about what’s happening because it is your fault. One of your agents is going to die, and it is all your fault!” she yelled the last sentence, unable to keep her voice low as she felt the rage building inside her. The man didn’t even care, he sees you as an asset, not as a human.

“She is an agent, Romanoff, and one of the best. It is her job to take risks, and she knew them before accepting the mission. This regrettable accident is no one’s fault,” he said, unimpressed by the redhead’s outburst.

“Oh, please!” she exclaimed with a bitter laugh, “this mission wasn’t risky, it was suicidal, and you are perfectly aware of that. No one in their right mind would have accepted it, but she was vulnerable, and you knew it, and took advantage of her state to get what you wanted!” she had moved closer, until she was almost spitting in his face, until the accusing finger she was pointing at him almost touched his chest. She knows the man and his tricks, she knows that he always finds a way to get what he wants. “I hope it was worth it because, if we don’t find her alive, I’ll make sure to bury you next to her grave,” she spitted, not even trying to hide her threat — No, not a threat. It was more than that, it was a promise. 

Those are the last words she said before leaving the Quinjet.

They have been looking for you for days, and everyone is painfully aware that the chances of finding you are diminishing with every passing minute. Yet, the woman is not ready to stop, not until she has hugged you one last time, dead or alive. Looking for you was no easy task, and every clue they have found eventually led to a dead end — You are too skilled for your own good, she thought, and it was almost frustrating. If it wasn’t for your skills, and your ability to disappear without leaving a trace, they would have found you days ago. If it wasn’t for your skills, Fury would have never sent you on this mission alone, and he definitely wouldn’t have waited for so long before sending a rescue team.

The woman had to beg him, to scream, for him to accept to give in some pieces of information about how you were doing. He said that you were fine. He said that you were fine, but it was just a lie. He looked at her, promising that nothing would happen to you, but he only said that to get her out of his office. As she later learned, the man had no idea of how you were doing because it was a no-contact mission, and if you gave them news, it would only be to share bad ones.

She heard the message you sent, a plea for help playing on a loop in her mind. Despite the poor quality of the transmission, and the cut words that prevented them from understanding your situation clearly, she could feel your fear, one that made her blood run cold — The woman has never heard you being so scared before.

Fury has waited two days before sharing the message with her. He said that he was positive you would find a way out on your own, and it would be too risky to send a team there when they had no idea how the situation was, but she hadn’t listened to him. All the woman could see was how he almost ruined every chance to rescue you for some ego problems, and foolish confidence — Everyone knows that after two days the chances of finding a missing person alive are slim. 

She hates him for that. She hates him for allowing you to die.

Or maybe it is herself that she hates, for letting you down years ago, when you needed her the most — If she hadn't, none of that would have happened, you wouldn’t have taken such risks in the hope of achieving some kind of redemption.

“What do you want?” she asked curtly to the person that was following her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was — Steve. In recent years, the man had developed the bad habit of following her wherever she went, convinced that she needed him.

“You forgot that,” he said, and she looked over her shoulder at the jacket in his hands. A wry smile appeared on her lips at the sight of the garment.

“Because I don’t need it,” she sighed, her tone as cold as the forest because of how exasperated she was by the way the man was trying to play hero. Maybe he was one for the rest of the world, but the woman definitely didn’t need to be saved, and especially not by a man that is convinced he knows everything better than everyone else.

“And, how exactly, do you expect to be able to help her if you are freezing to death?” He asked, trying to coax her into taking the jacket — But only someone who doesn’t know her well could imagine having any chance of convincing the woman.

“Did you forget where I am from, Roger?” She asked back, stopping in her tracks to face him, the sudden act surprising the man who almost ran into her, “If you are cold, then you can go back to the jet. No one asked you to follow me. So now, shut up or leave me alone,” she warned him before resuming her journey, the man at her heels. Natasha wasn’t walking in the forest for pleasure, and she couldn’t afford any distraction.

The woman has to concentrate to make sure she doesn’t miss any traces of your presence. These are rare, almost imperceptible, and easily hidden by the snow. She needs to be sure that she won’t miss anything, and that is something she can’t do if the centenarian doesn’t stop rambling in her ears.

Fortunately, the message seems to have got through because not a word was spoken for the next hours, and the two Avengers just walked in silence. Only the snow crunching under their feet broke the heavy silence. It had been hours, and the landscape didn’t seem to change, giving the impression that they were walking in place, or that they were going in circles. No matter where her eyes landed, all she could see were snow-covered trees, but that was until she spotted it. It was almost invisible, but there was no way she was going to miss the only thing that wasn’t white in the landscape — A red stop. A spot of blood, probably caused by a few drops, but that was leading to a trail staining the forest’s perfect white coat.

“Wait! Where are you going?” the man exclaimed when he noticed that his partner had run off, but he got no answer. His eyes weren’t as sharp as hers, and so he didn’t notice the stains straight away.

When he finally catches up with the woman, he was so taken aback by the scene that he was unable to move, or speak. It was so unexpected that he felt like he was daydreaming, and wondered if it wasn’t the cold that was causing him to hallucinate.

There, a few meters away from him, the redhead was kneeling in the snow. She was close to a body whose identity was in no doubt — You. Suddenly, all he can see is the rigidity of your body, the bluish tint of your lips, the snow that is covering your face, but above all the scarlet puddle that is staining the snow, so big that no one could miss it.

“Give me the jacket,” she asked him, her tone firm despite the obvious tremor in her voice. Her eyes never leave you, even for a moment, perhaps because she was afraid that you would disappear, and that she would lose you, again. “Steve. The jacket,” she asked again, but more urgently this time, “give me the fucking jacket, and go get the others!” she repeated, and the shout seems to shake the man out of his torpor because he eventually hands her the jacket before running off, in the direction of the jet. 

Natasha didn’t look back, but she heard his footsteps in the snow as he walked away. Now alone, she gently lifts your body, wrapping you in the jacket, and even pulling the hood down your face to protect you from the snow and wind. She can’t help but let her hands linger on your visage, her thumb gently tracing your features, then brushing past your now blue lips to eventually follow the wound on your cheek.

For a few seconds, she allows herself to get lost in the familiarity of your face, but the blood that is left on her thumb after she ran it over your cheek brings her back to reality — You are dying. Maybe you already are, dead. Yet, there is not much she can do before the arrival of the rest of the team, except praying to all the gods whose names she knows, even though she has never believed in them — Please, if you exist, it is the moment to do something good, she thought, and the woman was so deep in her thoughts, trying to keep the last shred of sanity she had, because the last thing you need is for her to lose her temper, that she missed it at first, those words that came out of your mouth.

“What?” she asked, a little abruptly, as her eyes fell on your face. Your expression hadn’t changed, your eyes were still closed, and so were your lips, giving the impression that she had imagined the whisper. “Did you say something?” She nevertheless asked, and several seconds passed in silence. She felt the hope that had made her heart beat being replaced by despair, until she notices the trembling of your lips as they try to come to life. At first, no sound escapes, only a whimper that breaks her heart. “Shh, it is okay, take your time, baby. You can do it,” she quietly encouraged you as she noticed your struggles. 

Her hands cup your face, and the warmth of the contact, accompanied by the circles her thumbs are tracing on your cheeks, is comforting. It helps you to ignore the pain for a moment. The gesture even gave you the strength to talk.

“You..,” you started, but this simple word requires so much effort that you need to catch your breath before continuing. “ ..came..,” you eventually added, the second word coming out as a broken whisper, and the woman has to be close if she wants to understand what you are saying.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, “yes, I did. W- We are all here, baby,” she softly replied, her voice trembling slightly because of emotion, just like her hands as she continued cradling your face. 

They are here? All of them? You thought, and the realization brings tears to your eyes. The woman can also feel tears welling up in her eyes, and you can see them. Yet, she should not cry. She has no right to cry when you need her to be strong and calm your fears. The woman knows it and yet, she can’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. For so long, she had hoped to see you again, prayed for a second chance even though she knew she didn’t deserve it, but she hadn’t imagined that life could be cruel enough to offer her what she most wanted under the worst circumstances — Once again, she was about to lose the most important person in her life.

“Is.. that.. end.. ?” You painfully asked the woman. 

You have once heard a belief saying that the Angel in charge of helping a soul to travel to the other side always takes the appearance of the person the deceased loved the most during their life. You wouldn’t have expected anyone but the redhead to be yours. You may have tried to hate her for years, but the truth is that you have been unable to stop loving the woman.

“Because..,” you continued, but were stopped by a violent coughing fit. “Am.. ready.. now..,” you eventually managed to say. You want nothing more than to touch her face one last time, but your body refuses to listen to your desire and, as you try to move your hand, all you manage to do is to wiggle your fingertips — But it is okay, you thought. You are content enough with being able to see her one last time, and knowing that her comforting touch is the last thing you would feel before Death wraps its arms around your body, taking you somewhere where pain does not exist. 

“The.. end?” The woman repeated after you, a bit confused at your words, and you can tell because of how her eyebrows are knitted together. “Oh no, honey, it is not,” she whispered, trying to bring you a bit of comfort. “You are going to be fine, I promise,” she said, repeating those words a few times, unsure if they are really meant for you.

“I.. know.., I.. believe.. you..,” you whispered back.

“Then stay with me, baby, okay? Keep your eyes open for me, please. Just a few more minutes, and then everything will be fine, I promise. Do you think you can do that for me?” She started rambling when she noticed that you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Yet, it doesn’t seem to work as she watches you slowly slip into unconsciousness. “Tell me, love, where does it hurt? Could you do that for me?” She attempted, hoping that the question would be enough to ground you, to keep you here, with her, until the others arrive.

“Everywhere..,” you whispered, and it was the last thing you said. You were in so much pain that your whole body was numb, and you could barely feel something, unable to tell the difference between your arms and legs.

You are not sure what happened next, or how long it was before the rest of the team arrived, because despite Natasha’s attempts to encourage you to stay awake, you ended up losing consciousness. The last thing you were aware of was the sound of a vehicle, along with a few words that were yelled, and even if you couldn’t understand what they were saying, you were able to grasp the urgency in their tones. The last thing you remember was being lifted. That is when you knew you could do, before the arms that were carrying you were comforting, they were the promise that everything would be fine now.

After all, she promised. Didn’t she?

—   —   —

It was all a lie, when she promised that things would be okay now.

Since the very moment you have opened your eyes, after a few days spent in a coma, the world has been nothing but pain. She had promised you a world where suffering doesn’t exist, but had given you the exact opposite, every day being worse than the one that preceded it. Your wounds won’t heal, and despite the weeks that had passed, you were unable to walk properly, or anything without help. Every step you make, every breath you take, are the reminders of what was taken from you.

You had wished for Death. You had waited for the moment you could leave this world almost impatiently, but when the time eventually came, you were brutally ripped from Its arms. When the woman wrapped her arms around you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, whispering the promise that everything would be fine now, you naively believed her. It is not before it was too late that you realized your mistake. You have thought that the woman you saw was your angel, but it has only been Natasha, a human, with her flaws and mysteries.

Why did she even decide to come?

The question has not left your mind since you opened your eyes. It raises a feeling of confusion, and anger, because there is no explanation you could think of that would make a bit of sense.

You have not talked since they brought you there, at the compound. It is a place that you’ve never thought you would ever see again, but mostly a place you never wanted to return to. At first, they thought that you just needed a bit of time to adapt, but the days soon became weeks, and you remained locked in your silence despite their many attempts to encourage you to say a few words. The only sounds they have heard coming from you are the whimpers of pain that sometimes fall past your lips.

Natasha has tried to speak to you, but you would always ignore her questions and ramblings. Yet, it has never stopped her from trying. Even though she is not sure that you can hear her, even though whenever she enters your room, she finds you looking out of the window, staring blankly. The woman had stopped closing the shutters a while ago, so you would always have something to look at, but you probably didn’t even notice the difference. It seems that your mind is somewhere else, somewhere she can’t reach.

You are far from here, from this room you hate with your whole heart but that you can’t leave despite your desires. A room that is not yours, and certainly not home despite what they may say, and you would rather be anywhere else, even if it means locking yourself in your thoughts. 

It is something they would have known if they had asked you, but apparently they didn’t think to ask for your opinion when deciding your future. The Avengers Tower is quiet, and comfortable. Somewhere you are familiar with, and where you would be able to get the care you need — The perfect place. The only place. You have no family, no friends, that could have agreed to take care of you until you are back on your feet. The Avengers may not be your family anymore, but they are the only ones who have agreed to bear this responsibility — Or most likely they felt like they had to. You probably want to be here as much as they want you to be there, and you know that they are silently praying that you will go away soon. You are the constant reminder of what they want to forget.

And so, you have slowly found comfort in your own mind. The only place where they can’t bother you, where suffering and time does not exist. Except that, as the days go by, it gets harder to ignore the woman. She is the only one who has never given up, always trying to talk to you when she comes to your room, even though you have never replied once. Whenever she comes to bring your meal, or your medicine, or help you to change, she would stay a bit longer, rambling about anything that comes to her mind — And you hate it. You don’t care about her last mission, nor do you care about the last movie she has seen. 

When she is here, time seems to flow slowly, minutes becoming a painful eternity. You wish the woman would understand your silence as the sign that you don’t want to talk, but it is apparently not a sufficient clue because she has never stopped talking.

The last thing you want is to get out of your caparace, because you don’t want to see what is outside, but it becomes almost impossible to ignore the world when the woman keeps invading your bubble. Her voice, her soft touches,.. they held a new promise — Everything will be fine, she continues saying, but now you know it is not true. You have fallen for her lies one time, and promised to yourself that you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. These touches didn’t bring you any comfort, only frustration which then turned into anger. You have felt it boiling inside you for days now — Until you couldn’t bear it any more.

“Why?” You whispered. The woman was helping you to put on clean pyjamas, and you think she was rambling about her day when you cut her off with your question.

You are not sure why you have decided to talk that day. You are not even sure that it was your decision, the broken whisper falling past your lips before you could realize what was happening. You wish you could take back your word, but it was too late. The woman was as surprised as you were, judging by the expression on her face. Her lips are moving, but it is her turn to be at a loss of words.

Somehow, the hesitation you could read on her face made yours disappear instantaneously. Suddenly, you didn’t want to stay silent anymore. You wanted to be heard, to get the anger out of your body because you couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore.

“Why?!” You repeated, but this time you yelled the question. At least, it was the intention, but after so much time without talking, the word was nothing like a scream, only a strangled cry. Yet, despite your voice being weak, you realized that you didn’t want to stay quiet anymore — Not now, when you just got it back. Not when there are so many things you want to say, to scream in their faces.

“Why what?” She softly asked, stopping what she was doing for a second. Her hands were resting on your knees as she was talking. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, and had to lower your head a little to meet her eyes. Yet, she doesn’t dare to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds.

You scoff when she looks away, doing the same thing as you can feel tears coming in your eyes. She must not see them. “Playing games, are we?” You said back. Your tone is venomous, your words rude, and meant to hurt the woman, even though she took care of you the past few weeks.

It may sound unfair to treat the woman after all she has done for you — After she saved your life. Yet, she is still the one who dumped you years ago, the one who broke your heart, ruined your life, and made promises she couldn’t keep. The truth is that, if you can’t handle her presence, it is because you know that you don’t want her to be really gone — You shouldn’t, but you want more of it, more of her and her reassuring presence. Her sudden gentleness, after she pushed you away so violently, is building your hopes back up. A feeling that is painful when you know that they would never become a reality.

“Listen,.. I-,” she sighed, but before she could find the right words to answer your questions, you cut her, again. You already had enough, wanting this conversation to end, and now.

“If you can’t give me an honest answer, then I don’t want to listen to you,” you abruptly said, warning the woman that she should carefully choose her next words.

The woman may want to say something, but when she opens her lips, no sound comes out — Because she has no idea what to say. The truth is that Natasha is as confused as you are, the same unanswered questions occupying her mind. She doesn’t know why she went after you, and the lack of response keeps her awake at night. 

The woman simply knew that she needed to be there, that her place was by your side, and no word was strong enough to describe how worried she had been about you all this time, a feeling that has lingered inside her since you left. She pretended not to care, tried to bury these feelings as she had been raised to do, but it never really left.

You had poisoned her soul, her heart.

But you know. You already know the answers to your questions, you only asked because you wanted to hear them from her mouth. You want her to admit that her actions were only guided by her guilt, not by the love she pretends to bear for you, because that is the only way you would be able to get rid of the painful hope that, maybe, things could go back to the way they used to be.

But obviously she wouldn’t say that. 

The great Natasha Romanoff would never admit that she is selfish, and imperfect. 

That she is far from the hero everyone thinks she is.

“Get. out,” you eventually asked the woman. She has hesitated, and missed her chance to say something. “GET OUT,” you yelled when you noticed she was about to protest, “LEAVE ME ALONE,” you added, pushing the woman who was kneeling in front of you with all your strength. When she didn’t budge, it only added to your distress.

For once, she listened to you, and left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and just like that you found yourself plunged into the silence you’ve been longing for — Yet, it didn’t feel as comforting as you expected it to be.

Somehow, since that day, you have only felt worse. Since you have found your voice again, you only used it to express your anger, yelling at anyone trying to get into your room. It has been several days now, that your cries have been echoing in the tower, making it clear that you wanted to be left alone. If the past few weeks you have been bearing Natasha’s presence, it wasn’t the case anymore, and now the woman couldn’t even do something as simple as knocking at your door without you screaming. You do not want to see, hear, or feel her — Even the mere thought of the redhead was too much.

All of them had tried to step in your room, convinced they would be the one able to calm you down, but everything they achieved was to worsen the situation. Eventually, they stopped coming, giving you the loneliness you thought you wanted — Then why are not feeling better, now that you have what you asked for? 

You are torn apart by contradictory feelings and needs, unable to quite understand what is going on in your mind — It is obvious that you don’t want to see Natasha. And yet, everytime someone other than the woman opened this door, you felt disappointment filling your heart. Maybe that is why you yelled, why you were so angry. 

When they eventually stopped knocking at your door, you caught yourself hoping for them to come back. Your days are now an endless succession of hopes, built up at every sound of footsteps in the corridor, and disappointments, when you eventually hear them going away. She has proven you right, you thought. She has proven to you that she doesn’t care, and you have used up all your tears crying over this idea, days and nights. 

You wish you hadn’t said those things, that you hadn’t screamed at the woman, because you were now missing her presence. Her gentleness may have been annoying, but it has been so long since the last time someone has been this gentle with you, that now it was gone, you were craving to get it back. She gave you a second chance, and you have thrown it away for what? Nothing.

It took a few days before you eventually decided to leave your room. It was not by choice, obviously, and you only agreed to leave the comfort of your bed because of the hunger that was slowly gnawing at your insides. The last meal you got was the same day as the last time you saw Natasha, and you knew you couldn’t go much longer without eating. At first, you told yourself you would endure the pain, that you deserved it for what you did to the woman, but it didn’t make it more bearable, and you eventually gave in.

The plan you made in your mind was easy — Waiting for the night to come, make sure that no one is awake, and then quickly getting down to the kitchen. Only a few minutes, only time to grab some snacks before making it back to the comfort of your room. Yet, you should have known that things never go as they are meant to.

The journey to the kitchen was everything but easy. You have probably been a bit too optimistic about your ability to walk when you thought about your plan. The pain in your leg was so intense that you were only able to take a few steps before collapsing, and had to almost drag yourself down there. Every step felt like running miles, leaving you short of breath. And yet, despite all your efforts, despite your strong will, you were eventually forced to give up when your legs have once again shifted under your weight, leaving you on the ground, unable to get up despite your attempts. 

When even crawling felt too demanding, you were left with no choices but to wait for someone to rescue you. Suddenly, you were submerged by an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, and shame, that only worsened when you heard footsteps. You didn’t say anything, and only closed your eyes, hiding your tears behind your eyelids. You were softly praying that whoever is here would ignore your limp figure, scattered on the living-room’s floor, and do whatever they came here for as if you weren’t here. 

“Oh sweetie, no.. I won’t do that,” a feminine voice softly said, and you immediately recognize it as Wanda’s. It holds a gentleness that is unique. 

Your suspicions are confirmed a moment later, when the woman kneels beside you. For a second, you thought about pushing her away, especially when her hand brushes your hair out of your face. The witch is aware of that, but she also knows that, deep down,  behind the walls that you’ve built to protect yourself, you were craving for her attention. That’s why the woman didn’t remove her hand right away, a sad smile stretching her lips when she realized how you were leaning into her touch.

“Are you hungry?” She eventually asked, and you opened your eyes, a bit surprised by the sudden question. You blink, twice, unable to give the woman a verbal answer — But she doesn’t need one. She is perfectly aware of why you came downstairs, and she doesn’t need to use her mind-reading abilities to know that, already aware of how you have been refusing to eat anything for the past few days. “Good,” she whispered, careful with her words. She couldn’t risk you shutting down, again. “Because I was cooking, but did way too much for one person,” she explained, smiling.

It is a lie, and you both are aware of that. 

It is past midnight, and the woman was probably just looking for some water. She definitely wasn’t cooking, and is probably not even hungry, but she knows that this innocent lie would help you to feel less guilty. The woman knows how stubborn you can be, and how you would probably have refused if she had proposed to cook you a meal, scared of wasting her time. Yet, she couldn’t let you go back to your room with only a snack. You need energy, if you want to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

“Come here,” she said when you hesitantly nodded, “let me help you,” she added, and you didn’t protest when the woman wrapped her arms around you — Her embrace was soft, and comforting. 

“I got you,” she whispered in your mind, “everything will be fine now,” and, this time, the words felt true. It has been a long time since you felt as safe as you did in the Witch’s arms, the woman being the only one who has never treated you differently, or hated you for what happened years ago. She was the hope that things could work out. 

THE END. —

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @liasxeatt, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[stayevildarling]

can i request a natasha romanoff x female avenger reader when they are together for years then they are celebrating their anniversary but Natasha kind of forget about it cause of their work. When they are about to sleep reader said 'you forgot about our anniversary' leaving Natasha with a confused look but reader sleep it off. Fluff or ended up with smut i think? its up to you hehe love your fics!!!

- 🤸‍♀️

Natasha Romanoff x Reader- Falling back into us

A/N: Loved this request!! tysm dear anon🥰

tw/tags: established relationship, female avenger reader, smut (reader recieving, tasha recieving) oral, toys, fluff/hurt/comfort

word count: 3k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The days slowly slipped into weeks as life continued at its brutal pace. Both Natasha and you had been busy lately, days filled with missions or training and just overall Avenger things. And there was no inbetween, either missions where the earth was in your hands and about to end if the Avengers didn‘t save it or boring missions where you and Natasha often joked about any of the recruits being able to do those.

Having been beside each other for years, Nat and you would often be sent on missions together, it being your preference in order to keep an eye on each other but also because how effortlessly you both worked alongside each other. A glance was often enough, communicating in silence when either of you noticed a threat, knowing the other‘s move, Natasha always able to tell when something made you uncomfortable and you equally knowing if something triggered her and reminded her of her past.

And the two of you knew just how to soothe each other after a mission, long baths together, eating your comfort meals together or going out together, mostly enjoying the quiet embrace of each other and in each other‘s arms. Natasha and you had settled a while ago, your relationship a little bit of a rollercoaster at the beginning when you joined, as the Black Widow couldn‘t keep her eyes or hands off you but at the same time didn‘t want to commit, due to her past. But slowly the two of you got closer and now neither of you would have it any other way.

The last few weeks had been especially rough, missions after missions, some short ones and some long ones, some with and some without the Black Widow as the world was a little all over the place at the moment. Today had been another busy day, Tasha still on a mission, set to return tonight, you in and out of meetings with Tony and some other Avengers, all while training some newer recruits while still needing to look after your own form and stay on top of your shape. You knew it was your anniversary today, the two of you having talked about it once in the past few weeks but the subject not coming up anymore.

And you knew Natasha wasn‘t one for big sappy gestures but somehow you wanted to make her return special. Usually if she‘d be gone and you would await home for her, there would be a home cooked meal waiting for her and in return, if Tasha was waiting for you there would be pizza and some beers and the two of you loved both equally. Still you opt for your girlfriends favorite meal, beginning in the early hours of the evening and humming quietly to some music, the thought of the redhead in your arms soon, filling you with excitement. You decided on some cold beers still, assuming she probably needed them, as well as some candles and flowers. Usually the Black Widow would spoil you with the occasional gift or flowers and you noticed she never recieved flowers half as often as you do, the redhead appreciating other things more but still you wanted to make her feel special.

By the time you are finished, you draw her a bath and getting her some comfortable clothes ready and some warm towels, hoping the state she would be in, wouldn‘t be too bad. Time passes slowly and as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, your eyes read over her text of her being home a little later. In the end, you opted for a book and sat on the bed, leaving the door open and giving you the perfect view of her return, excited to run into her arms and enjoy dinner and maybe a bath with her, depending on her mood. But Natasha returned much later, there having been some initial issues with the mission and then some delay on getting home. She had been impatient, despite the missions success, wanting nothing more than to get home to you and coat your face with kisses.

By the time she steps through the now quiet apartment, the smell of food instantly hits her and she smiles to herself a little, loving you even more for this being her return ritual even after all this time. She sees the candles and flowers and wonders just what she had done to deserve this, a little oblivious with the stress from the past few weeks. After setting her bags and parts of her uniform down, she steps further into the apartment only to find your sleeping form on the bed, phone beside you and book still tugged in your lap, the signs evident that you wanted so badly to wait up for her. She wastes no time in silently making her way over, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing for a moment. With practiced ease she blows out the candles, putting the food in some containers for tomorrow before disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returns, hair still damp she smiles as she sees your chest rise and fall gently, wasting no time to get into bed with you and wrapping her arms around you. Sleepily and subconsciously you pull her closer, your arms wrapping around her. „I‘m back detka, sorry it‘s so late“ she whispers apologetically as you mumble something incoherent into her chest. „What did I do to deserve all that?“ she whispers and you open your eyes a moment before whispering „You.. forgot about our.. anniversary?“ but before you can say anything else, you cozily wrap into herself further and drift off to sleep. Natasha‘s features falter at your statement, having been so busy she completely forgot the date today. Guilt fills her further as she remembers the conversation you both had about it a few weeks ago, now understanding the flowers and the lengths you went through for her tonight.

She sighs to herself as she tries to relax, her limps and muscles tired from the mission but her mind wide awake. The redhead can‘t help but feel like she failed you, being Avengers was tough without a doubt as well as important but you had always been more important to her and she can‘t help but feel like she failed you. She stares at the ceiling for a while longer, the image of you snoring softly in her arms relaxing her and shushing the thoughts on her mind until her body eventually forces her to sleep. By the time you wake up next, the sun blinds you for a moment and you sleepily remember Tasha returning home last night, the memory of her laying in your arms filling you with a sense of comfort and safety but as you turn, you notice her absence and your eyes widen for a moment as she would usually sleep in after a mission, the two of you eventually getting up after some cuddles and reconnecting.

Before you can step out of bed however, the door to your bedroom opens, exposing the redhead with a tray in her hand, her features both apologetic and guilty. „Good Morning detka“ she greets you, walking towards you with some fresh pastries, juice and coffee, as well as a little vase with a flower inside. You frown, knowing Tasha certainly wasn‘t one to get up this early in the morning after a mission. She sets it down beside you on the table before straddling you, plastering your face in kisses that have you giggling. „I‘m so sorry I forgot“ she whispers and you furrow your eyebrows for a moment before realizing yourself what the two of you had missed the night before. „It‘s okay Tasha I promise“ you struggle in between her kisses.

She stops her movements to look at you for a moment before whispering „It‘s not“ her features utterly serious as you see the guilt in her beautiful eyes. „You do everything for me detka, your my rock and I‘m sorry I forgot, you went through so much effort and I-„ before she can finish you shut her up with a kiss, your eyes sparkling as butterflies errupt in your stomach. „Tasha- we can celebrate today, it doesn‘t matter“ you reassure and her features ease as she relaxes into you further. The two of you stay like that for a while, your eyes locked onto each other. „You hungry?“ she asks with a smile, glancing over at the tray beside you. „Yes“ you mumble as she begins rambling about the food choices but before she can list them further you kiss her again, more passionately this time as your tongue enters her, leaving her gasping for breath. „Not for that though“ you whisper before her puplis blow and a low chuckle escapes her.

Without warning she flips you both around, the Black Widow on top of you as she begins exploring your body with her mouth and hands, her fingertips soft on your skin despite her lips leaving dark hickies all over you. And despite all this time, Natasha would always explore your body as if it was the first time, treating you as if you are the most delicate thing on this planet, despite her ruthless pace at times. „Tasha“ you moan as she moves lower and lower, having undressed you with ease, leaving you completey exposed. She doesn‘t waste any time as soon as she sees your glistening core, her tongue diving right inside you as a gutteral moan escapes you. Your girlfriend eats you out with ease, moaning at the taste of you, devouring you as if you are the last meal on earth and she is starving. Your fingers find their way to her hair, pulling slightly at every sensation. „You taste so good detka“ she whispers, her mouth on your clit sending vibrations through you.

„Tasha please“ you whisper and she glances at you, her eyes filled with lust and a deep desire to please you before she attacks your clit again, your hips bucking and before you can say anything else, her fingers enter you, slow and gentle at first to ease you into it but as soon as those familiar screams fill the bedroom, she wastes no time in getting you close, her fingers hitting all the right spots as she begins curling them, your hips bucking into her face as you grip the sheets, chest heaving and words leaving you, the only noises, moans and the occasional screams. „God“ you moan, which causes her to look at you, her fingers still inside you as your walls clench around you. „I‘m not god detka“ she teases but you can‘t hear her, too taken back by the ecstasy of it all and before you know it, her mouth is on your clit again, your juices beginning to flow into her mouth and your girlfriend picking up the pace again.

„Cum for me detka“ she demands and it‘s all you need to send you spiraling over the edge, your body trembling as her fingers still inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm as she licks you clean, sucking all your juices, leaving you a panting, moaning mess. Once she pulls her fingers out, she holds them to your mouth and you open, tasting yourself on her fingers, which sends a low moan her way. She gives you time to adjust, crawling on top of you as she kisses you sweetly. „Breathe detka“ she instructs and you open your eyes, remembering you forgot to breathe for a moment due to your orgasm. As soon as your eyes find hers, you can‘t help yourself, ignoring the slight aching of your body and the exhaustion, as you lay her next to you, attacking her swollen lips, your tongue entering her again. „Eager are we?“ she teases and you bite her lip in response, knowing it‘s her weakness and shushing her quietly.

You take your time to undress her, kissing every inch of her body, a new bruise and cut that formed from a mission, despite the eagerness and the equal want, this being essential to you always. Natasha‘s head moves to the side, giving you perfect access to her neck as she moans your name, your fingers slowly travelling to her clit and exposing her soaked center. „I love you Tasha“ you whisper as you travel lower, your tongue licking through her folds and collecting her juices. She watches your every move, closing her eyes as you your tongue explores her, gently. Without warning you take the small vibrator from the other side of the bed, having hidden it there while she was fucking you senseless. As soon as she feels the cold sensation on her clit, her eyes open, eyebrow furrowing but as soon as you hold in the button, the familiar vibrations spread through her, causing her eyes to widen and her breaths to become unsteady.

You can tell she wants to scold you for surprising her like that but the pure desire takes over as you hold it firmly against her clit, her body shivering at the vibrations as you didn‘t bother with the first few low settings, going max straight away. Your fingers dive into her with ease, her walls instantly clenching around you, her eyes finding yours, mouth slightly agape. „Detka.. don‘t stop“ she whispers and you smile, not planning on doing that anytime soon. You switch your movements from time to time, letting the small vibratior travel lower and lower before it enters her, your mouth attacking her clit before slowing it all down, leaving her a breathless moaning mess.

Knowing her body so well by now, you can tell she is close, letting the small vibrator enter her again as her hips begin bucking against you. Your hands travel to her nipples, pinching them gently before your mouth settles on her clit again. „Detka..“ she moans and before you know it you send her spiraling over the edge, her orgasm washing over her as her nails settle on your back, leaving marks. Before she can calm down fully and slow her breathing you take out the toy, abandoning it somewhere closeby before your tongue enters her again, wanting to lick up all her juices. Her eyes widen at the sensation and you smirk once you realize she is close yet again. „Cum for me Tasha“ you encourage her before entering her again and without warnig her juices fill your mouth, causing you to moan as you clean her up.

Her breathing is heavy as you settle on her chest, laying in her arms and watching her coming down from her high. Once she opens her eyes, her eyebrows are raised and you can tell you would pay for this next time but it‘s replaced by love seconds later as her thump wipes over your mouth, cleaning some of her arousal from your face. The two of you stay like this for what feels like forever as you steady your breathing together, your hearts beating in synch against each other‘s chest and falling deeper into the moment and holding each other. It takes a while before you move again, the smell of food causing you to lick your lips, which Tasha can tell. She stands up for a moment, getting dressed again and helping you into your own clothes before she hands you a pastry.

„Juice or coffee?“ she asks softly and you smile at her before whispering „Juice please“ she hands you a glass and you can‘t help but wonder why she set on such fancy cutlery and glasses this morning. „Couldn‘t you find the regular cups?“ you tease but Natasha remains quiet as she stands beside you, waiting for you to see. And just as you are about to drink, you see something sparkling in there and carefully take it out. The sight of the ring with a small but beautiful diamond takes your breath away and you look at her in shock, not understanding at first. It‘s when she drops on one knee that the picture falls into place, when your full name leaves her lips so perfectly. „Detka I love you“ she begins, your eyes already glistening with tears as she is still kneeling in front of you, holding onto your hand.

„I never want to stop coming home to you, be badasses on missions together and I never want to miss anything like this ever again“ she confesses and the tears flow freely now as she carries on. „Will you be my wife?“ she whispers, her own eyes sparkling and all you can do is nod, completely taken away by what is happening. She smiles to herself as she carefully puts the ring on your finger, having planned this for a while, this not necessarily how she wanted to do it but then her not being one for great gestures either and you both preffered it this way. Once she stands up, you pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her as you kiss her. She wipes your tears gently, a proud smile on her lips as she admires the ring and how hot you look as her soon to be wife.

Once you calm down and realize this isn‘t a fever dream, your eyebrows furrow as you meet her eyes. „Tasha I thought you didn‘t want-„ you begin but she stops you. „I know darling, I never thought this was for me but I never want to be anywhere else than with you ever again“ she confesses. And for the remainder of the day you stay in each other‘s arms, Natashas confession having taken your breath away, never expecting this when first meeting the Avenger, certainly not expecting this when you woke up this morning but neither of you would have it any other way. And one thing was for sure, Tasha would never forget an Anniversary again after this.

[whatidonthaveanyhomework]

Enjoying the view?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: basically Natasha takes care of you after a long day (with sex)

Warnings: smut, dom Natasha, sub reader, degradation, mommy kink, biting(?), slight overstimulation, aftercare, subspace

A/N: I’ve never written anything before so idk how good this is, please don’t be mean to me

—————————————————————————

You stumble into your house, tired from your day at work. You had overslept and spent the entire day running from meeting to meeting. All you really wanted to do was come home and spend time with your girlfriend. As you step into the house, you’re greeted with the scent of pizza in the oven. In the kitchen you find Natasha tossing a bagged salad. As you enter the room she comes over to you and leans in for a kiss. 

“Hi detka,” she mumbles against your lips, pulling you into a tight embrace. You breathe in the scent of her shampoo, reveling in the soft domesticity of the moment. 

“Hi love,” you respond, as Natasha pulls back, placing another quick kiss on your lips before returning to her salad. 

“How was your day?” She asks, pouring the salad dressing packet into her salad as you lean against the island in your kitchen. You sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Well, I woke up and my girlfriend wasn’t there to kiss me, and then I nearly missed the bus, and then Steve sent me to all my meetings and then all of Wanda’s since she’s on sick leave, and I got curry on my pants at lunch,” you complain. Natasha gives the salad a final toss before pulling you into another hug, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. 

“I’m sorry angel. That’s exhausting,” she consoles and you nod, pulling her body closer to yours.

The timer on the pizza beeps, and Natasha pulls away, placing an apologetic kiss on your hairline. She takes the pizza out of the oven, and the two of you set the table to eat. 

During dinner, Natasha keeps close to you, always in physical contact with you in some way. You lean into it, grateful for the comfort in your tired state. After dinner, the two of you head upstairs to shower before getting in bed. You climb into the shower and take turns washing each other before changing into pajamas and climbing in bed together to watch a show. 

Climbing into bed, Natasha pulls you onto her lap, holding you against her body tightly. You place your head on her shoulder to admire your girlfriend, noticing her soft lips and ample cleavage her tank top provides. You breathe in her scent, mostly ignoring the show you’ve both seen a million times. 

Natasha looks down at you, an amused smile gracing her lips. 

“Enjoying the view?” She teases and you blush, casting your eyes downward, and nod. 

“Yes Natty,” you say, suddenly very shy. Natasha chuckles softly, lifting your chin with a single finger to meet her gaze. You look into her eyes, and see them darken, heat pooling at your core. Natasha pulls you in, lips meeting. 

The kiss starts soft, but quickly turns more passionate as Natasha takes control, forcing your tongue back into your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation, and Natasha pulls you impossibly closer, her fingers tangling in your hair as the other hand grips your waist. 

Throwing your arms around her neck, you move to straddle your girlfriend’s lap. Natasha trails kisses down your neck, and you sigh at the sensation. She finds your pulse point and sucks on it, leaving a mark. You whimper, wanting more. 

“Oh darling, is someone needy?” She asks in a condescending tone that goes straight to your core. “I need words, detka,” she says, as you try to retake control over your voice. 

“Yes.” You whine, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. 

“Well, I guess we should do something about that, shouldn't we detka?” She asks, her voice dropping an octave. You nod adamantly as she maneuvers the two of you so that the two of you are laying on the bed, with her on top of you, straddling your waist. Natasha yanks your (her) shirt off your chest, which she quickly follows with her own. 

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sight of your girlfriend shirtless on top of you, and you nearly moan when she grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down to kiss you again. 

The kiss is all tongue and teeth and you groan as Natasha bits softly on your bottom lip. 

“Oh, does my babygirl like it when I bite her?” She asks. 

“Yes Mommy,” you sigh out, desperate for her to touch you. Mercifully, she also seems desperate to move her touch lower, and runs one of her hands over your chest, rolling your nipple between her fingers. 

“Fuck,” you cry, back arching up into her body and squeezing your legs together to try to aliviate the ache. Natasha lightly slaps your chest, and you can feel more arousal pooling in your underwear. 

“Watch your language detka,” she commands. “Only good girls get to come.” You nod, breaking eye contact. 

“‘M sorry Mommy. I’ll be good,” you say, and are rewarded a moment later by Natasha’s mouth on your chest as her hands travel down to your stomach, tracing random patterns there before following lower, lifting your hips to pull your pajama pants off. 

She pulls your legs open, dragging her nails lightly down the inside of your thighs. Bringing her hand further up, she ghosts her fingers against your folds over top of your underwear before pressing softly on your clit. You whine, but hold still, knowing Natasha won’t take kindly to you chasing her fingers. 

“Please touch me,” you wine, earning a low chuckle as the redhead slips your underwear off and starts lightly rubbing circles around your clit. You whimper, rolling your hips lightly against her finger. 

“Hold on a second sweetheart.” She said, removing her hand from your clit and planting an apologetic kiss on your lips. You grumble at the loss of friction, pressing your legs together to try to alleviate the ache between them as Natasha rummaged through her nightstand drawers.

“Ah ah keep those legs open for me love,” Natasha said, yanking her harness over her hips. You pull them apart again, whining.

“None of that sweet girl. Let Mommy take care of you,” she said, teasing your entrance with the tip of her strap before sinking into you. You let out a strangled moan. 

“Oh baby do you like that?” Natasha teases, thrusting into you hard and deep. 

“Y-yes Mommy,” you respond, eyes rolling back in your head as you hold the sheets below you in a death grip in an attempt to ground yourself. Natasha speeds up, enjoying your desperate state. You bite your lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure mounts inside you. 

“Ohh baby you look so pretty falling apart for mommy,” Natasha says. She leans down over you, grabbing one of your boobs to gain leverage so she could thrust harder into you. 

“Mommyyyyy,” you moan out. 

“What do you need, princess?” She asks, leaning closer to ghost your mouth. 

“C-can you please bite me?” You ask, your breathing speeding up as you approach your climax. 

“Aww, my dirty girl wants to be bitten?” Natasha mocks, kissing your neck lightly. 

“Please mommy I’m so close I’m so close please bite me,” you cry out. 

“Ok honey, you can come whenever you like,” Natasha says. She bites the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, and the coil in your stomach snaps. Pleasure washes over you, and you cry out, clinging onto Natasha. However, Natasha keeps going. 

“M-mommy what are you doing?” You ask, the overstimulation a little much. 

“Mmh-sorry princess mommy’s just so close,” Natasha says, her hips becoming erratic as the strap slams into you, hitting her clit just right. A couple seconds later, she lets out a low groan as she grips you tightly, coming. Then she collapses on top of you. 

You lay there together for a couple seconds before Natasha pulls you into a soft kiss. 

“Are you ok angel?” Natasha asks, softly tracing her hands across your body. 

“Of course mommy,” you say, pulling her back on top of you, just needing to feel her skin on yours. 

“Ok good. You did so well.” She praises, stroking your hair. The two of you stay there for a while, holding each other, before Natasha starts to pull away again. You tighten your grip on her, confused as to why she’s moving. 

“I’m sorry baby girl I have to pull out so we can clean up for bed,” Natasha says, and you reluctantly let her pull away and out, grimacing. 

“Ssh it’s ok baby,” Natasha coos, pulling you back into her arms and picking you up to carry you to the bathroom. She gently wipes between your legs with a wet washcloth, and then proceeds to lovingly wash your face and do your skincare routine for you. You lean into her touch, dimly aware of what’s happening, until you feel her place something in your hand. 

“Hey babygirl,” Natasha says as she sees your eyes focus on her. “Can you brush your teeth for me?”

You nod, lazily running the toothbrush across your teeth, as your girlfriend quickly gets herself ready for bed. She then takes the toothbrush from you, and a few moments later she’s hoisting you up and taking you to bed. She tucks you in before cuddling up behind you. 

“Night angel,” she whispers, kissing the side of your head.

“Mmm love you,” you mumble. 

“Love you too sweet girl.”

—————————————————————————

thx for reading, pls don’t plagiarize me

[kneecapsbelong2me]

Marvel Women x Diabetic!Reader HCs:

When your blood sugar is low

Characters: Kate Bishop, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers

A/N: this can be read as platonic or romantic! Also, world diabetes day was last week, but here we are.

Kate Bishop:

Before you met, the food scene at Kate’s apartment was dismal

The only things she ever really kept on hand were boxed Mac and cheese, microwave popcorn, and chocolate bars

Now, (in addition to real food and snacks you can eat more regularly) Kate’s apartment is filled with all of your favorite carb-filled, high glycemic index snacks and drinks

When you go low, she’s immediately offering you everything under the sun

If your favorites are from abroad, she WILL order them, shipping costs be damned

If you’re having a super mild hypo, she’ll pop downstairs and grab you a slice of pizza

Kate Bishop is a bit of a hoverer

Constantly checking in to make sure your sugar levels aren’t going down further

She HATES waiting 15 minutes to see if you’re back above 70 mg/dL (3.9 mmol/L)

Lowkey more anxious about it than you sometimes

“Are you sure you’re not going to collapse?”

“Kate, I’m only at 68, and I had a snack. I’m fine.”

“That is not fine!”

Natasha Romanoff:

Natasha is super observant (obviously, she’s a spy)

Seems to know you’re going low before you do

Will tell you to check your blood sugar because she’s noticing you look a little shaky and out of it

Other times will rummage through your bag and hand you a pack of gummies just as you’re about to tell her you feel low

She keeps little hard candies/gels hidden in the most random places for you

Once you were out and she pulled a candy from a pocket in her shirt you didn’t realize was there

Will never force you to do anything, but will give you her hardest stare if you don’t immediately treat your low (especially if you wear a continuous glucose monitor [cgm])

“I don’t even feel shaky, and you know this thing sometimes shows false lows,”

“I can tell you’re about to go low. Here, drink this.”

“Where were you hiding a juice pouch?!”

“I have a lot of things hidden on my body,”

“IS THAT A GRENADE??”

Maria Hill:

When she found out you were diabetic, Maria did a whole bunch of research, including on the signs of hypoglycemia and how to treat it

She has your lows down to a science

If you have a cgm, she definitely has the app on her phone so it tells her when you’re going low

If the cgm says you’re low, but you don’t feel the symptoms, she makes you check with the finger stick

Has things portioned so each serving has exactly 15 grams of carbs

Makes sure you eat a more substantial snack with protein in it once you’re back in range

Keeps a journal of the dates/times you go low and how effectively different treatments work for you

“I think you should start having an afternoon snack. I’ve noticed you have the most hypoglycemic incidents an hour or two before dinner.”

“Hmm, okay. But only if you take a break and have a snack with me.”

“If that’s what it takes, deal.”

Wanda Maximoff:

Wanda is an even bigger worrier than Kate

She’s lost so many people in her life, and she’ll be damned if she lets you die from something she can directly stop

She keeps a closer eye on your blood sugar than you do

Like Maria, if you have a cgm she has the app to track

Wanda makes sure EVERY alarm is turned on and at the highest volume

When you go out, she carries more snacks than you do

If you have glucagon, Wanda keeps a dose with her, even if you also have one on you

The instant she knows you’re low there is a candy in your hand (before you can even access your own stash)

“If that doesn’t do it, I have three juice boxes, two packs of fruit gummies, and about two dozen hard candies in my bag,”

“Geez, Wanda. That sounds heavy. Which one of us is diabetic again?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay!”

“Sorry, I know. Thank you for caring so much about me.”

“Of course.”

Carol Danvers: 

You go low while on Carol’s ship once, and she gives you juice from an alien planet and it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever tasted

She finds out how much you like it and goes back to the planet just to buy it for you so she always has some on her ship

Forget a phone app, Carol has low glucose alerts hooked up to all of her tech no matter what technology you use

She somehow managed to get your finger stick connected to her suit and her ship

If she happens to be off-world and she gets an alert about you going low, she stops what she’s doing to text you

But if she’s “close,” no matter where she is on Earth (or near it) when you go low she will use her super speed to get to you, even if you assure her your fine

“Carol, you really didn’t have to leave your meeting with Fury for this. I have my own snacks.”

“I know, but I’m planetside and I have that juice you like.”

“Thanks for always taking care of me.”

“Of course, I’ll always be here when you need me.”

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Y/n: "shark infested waters" oh mean like their home?

Natasha: detka I came to the beach to relax. Now shut the fuck up.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Doctor, Doctor

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

Summary: The tide is pulling you in and you are getting to weak to stop it.

Warnings: bad mental health, implied suicidal thoughts, implied past abuse, therapy, Sam is a good guy, non-sexual nudity.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

The pacing was the only thing keeping you grounded. So you paced: 5 steps in one direction, then five steps in the other. Everything around you turned to white noise. Not that there were many people in the Avenger’s compound. The world seemed to be holding on by a thread as fires spread across the globe. The only people that could put out those fires were the Avengers. The team was spread worldwide, and since you weren’t part of the team, you couldn’t know the specifics. You had half the mind to hack into FRIDAY to get updated everyone. With the stress of not knowing how the team was doing, combined with the sleepless nights due to nightmares, you were on edge.

It seemed your mind and body had enough. You were at your wit’s end. Each night, your mind creates horrific scenarios of those you love. Your hands were covered with so much blood. Your mind was having a hard time separating your nightmare and reality.

Usually, you would ignore it, push through, and hope your mind would figure itself out. That was past you, and you were trying to be better. You wanted to enjoy the life you were living with the people in it, but you weren’t sure if you could do it on your own.

But admitting you needed help was a weakness, and a weakness meant death. Honestly, you were proud of yourself. The person you were now was leaps and bounds from who you were in the Red Room. Still, these habits were hard to break. His voice was still engraved in your head. “Hey,” you jumped at the sudden voice and the hand on your shoulder. You put your hands up, ready to fight. “Sorry,” it was Sam. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed lost in your own head.”

“Yeah,” you put your hands down. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well.” His eyes scanned you over.

“Do you want to get out of the compound?”

“Please,” you said. If you weren’t so desperate for a distraction, you would have hated how weak you sounded. Sam smiled, and you followed him to the garage. The silence was comforting. Sam was special. His presence was calming, like a lifeboat in a raging storm at sea.

As he drove away from the compound past the small nearby town, he turned down a nonpaved road. You raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you taking me out here to kill me?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Please, like I could kill you,” he teased, sparing you a glance before focusing back on the road. “And if I managed to kill you. Natasha, Yelena, Alexei, Carol, and Melina would be on my ass. Nooo, thank you,” he paused. “I would never know peace.” You rolled your eyes.

Finally, he parked in a small lot. There was only one other car. You followed him out of the car and took a deep breath in. The air was crisp. It felt cleaner somehow. “Ready for a hike?”

“Are you going to be able to keep up?” The man glared at you.

“I don’t know why I try to be nice to you, Black Widows.” You chuckled.

“Come on, Sam,” you smiled. “I’m following your lead.” You followed him to the start of the trail. He filled the silence with stories from his childhood and his family in New Orleans. But most of the walk was spent in silence besides the crunch of the leaves and sticks at your feet. With each step you took, the weight on your shoulder seemed to disappear.

You smiled at the couple who walked past you on their way to the car. Soon enough, you reached the end of the trail and at the top of the mountain. The scenery around you felt otherworldly. The air was crisp and cool. In one direction, you could see the other mountains part of the range surrounded by green trees.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was a vast and brilliant blue. Birds were flying at your level. There was a beauty at the top that you forgot existed in this world. “So,” you looked at Sam. “Wanna talk about why you were pacing a hole in the ground?” You smiled and sat down on a rock.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you said. Some days, I feel like I have it together, like there isn’t this crushing weight, but recently, I feel like I can barely hold my head above the water. " You picked up a stone and threw it up and down. The tide keeps trying to drag me under, and I’m afraid. " You let the stone drop back to the ground. I might stop fighting so it can take me out to sea.”

There were so many dark thoughts that echoed inside your mind. On certain days, listening to those thoughts seemed easier than fighting them. “And I know,” you continued before Sam could speak. “That I have so many people on my side that support me and count on me, but I am so fucking tired,” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I just want it all to stop.” You admitted. “I mean, the world will keep spinning, right? Even if I’m no longer in it.”

You heard the man let out a low hiss. You weren’t suicidal, but it seemed easier. “Ours would stop,” Sam finally said. “Our world would stop spinning.” You reopened your eyes to see Sam walking towards the edge. “Have you ever been sky diving?” He looked over his shoulder as you shook your head. “I should take you,” he looked back at the view. “It is the most freeing and adrenaline-pumping thing a person could do. I love it.”

You stood up slowly and walked to stand next to the man. “I’ve been on a roller coaster, does that count?” He slapped you playfully. “Why did you ask me that?”

“In sky diving or even for us Fly Boys on the team, you have to have complete trust in the people that you don’t necessarily see,” you frowned, a little confused. You have to trust the pilot, trust the instructor leading the pilot, and trust the people who packed your gear that they did it correctly. Blind trust is terrifying,” he said and touched your shoulder.

Trust. So much of your trust has been broken. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered. The man smiled.

“Then trust me when I say this,” he took a few deep breaths. “I think you need to see a therapist, and I can find you a good one.”

“No,” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and headed back down the trail.

“Wait, ugh, hold on,” you heard him quicken his pace to catch up to you. “Look, I can’t imagine what that sick bastard put you and your sisters through, but I’ve lost someone because they couldn’t fight the tide. I will not stand by and watch it happen to you,” His confession stopped you and turned around to face him. “An old service buddy of mine,” he answered the question before you asked. “The weight of what happened over there got too much, and he let himself drown.” He took a few steps closer to you. “My mama said every soul that touches us leaves a mark - some as gentle whispers or bold strokes - but their imprints remain even when they’re gone. You’ve shaped our lives by being in it, and there is no going back.” You felt your chest tighten. Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the ground.

“I trust you to find me a good one, Samuel,” the man laughed and put his arm around your shoulder.

“If I find you a good one, can I push you out of a plane?”

*

It was to disguise your trip to the city to check on a few Widows who had recently been exposed to the red dust. You felt bad about telling a white lie, so you visited a few of them; one was going to school, and another was starting a business. It made you happy that they were getting out of this life.

Now, you were sitting in Dr. Sabrina Hale’s lobby. Your leg was shaking, and you were gripping your jeans. You felt like you were going to be sick. Anxiety swirled in your stomach. Like Sam, you needed to believe in the blind trust of this stranger. “Hi,” you looked at the doctor. The woman was pite - her black hair was cut shoulder length, and her blue eyes seemed to have a caring presence. “My name is Sabrina. It is nice to meet a friend of Sam’s.” You introduced yourself and shook her hand. “Please come in.” You followed her into the office.

Her office was much bigger than you expected. It had a large window overlooking the city, and her wooden desk was in front of it. Next to it was a couch with a chair. In the corner, there was a small table with chairs covered with coloring pages and art supplies. The most striking detail about her office was how decorated it was. There were plants in every corner and pictures on the wall documenting her travels and her family.

“Sit where you are comfortable,” you sat on the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she grabbed a travel mug from her desk and sat in the chair beside you.

“I will start off this session by saying that everything you say here is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said, crossing her left leg over her right.

“And if I don’t say anything?” Sabrina shrugged.

“Then we stare at each other for an hour in silence. Regardless, I still get paid,” you let out a dry laugh and stared out her window. “Sam told me you work with the Avengers, so I can guess whatever is haunting you isn’t pretty,” you scuffed, folded your hands, and rested your forearms on your thighs. “I tell my patients that you get out of therapy based on what you put into it. You need to want to be here. You want to get better.” Sighing, you stared at her.

She had a small smile on her face. Her eyes were so kind; they seemed to stare into your soul. “Do have any siblings? I have an older brother and a younger sister.” She was the middle child, and that made sense. Middle children were known to struggle with a sense of identity. Every piece of decoration showed you a piece of who Sabrina is. They also were known to rebel - her nose ring and sleeve of tattoos gave her away. But you snapped out of that. Sabrina was here to help you. She was not your target.

“Yeah, I have two younger sisters,” you smiled. “We aren’t related by blood.”

“Family is family,” she said. “Blood doesn’t matter.” You nodded and felt better that she had the same viewpoint as you. “Who annoys you the most?”

“Excuse me?” You were shocked by the question. Sabrina laughed.

“Come on. You are the older sister; your younger siblings must annoy you.” You chuckled and leaned back on the couch. She was right. It got on your nerves when Natasha left her pointee shoes lying around. Yelena had the annoying habit of putting her dirty laundry with yours so you would do it. You smiled again.

“They both do things that get on my nerves, but I love them.”

“I love mine too,” she said. “We got these tattoos together.” She turned her arm over to show you the artwork forever marked on her skin. It was like the work of three birds on a branch.

“Did it hurt?” You questioned. “The sleeve, I mean.” She watched as you looked over your sleeve.

“The first one did,” she answered. “After so many, you get numb to the pain.” Her blue eyes were watching you closely. Missing how your body tensed at the comment was not hard for her. “Are you numb to it all? After everything you’ve been through.”

You were unsure how to answer because you weren’t numb. You felt everything. Every hand that hurt you. Every bullet and knife slash that pierced your skin. That was why you wanted it all to stop. You shook your head. “I feel it all,” you whispered. “I wish I was numb to it all.”

“It’s good that you are feeling,” she told you. It means you can still be pulled back. You can be saved. The question is,” You watched her stand up and walk over to the mini-fridge. She grabbed out a small water bottle and walked back to you. “Do you want to be saved?” she asked while handing you the bottle.

She was extending an olive branch, waiting for you to take the first step—blind trust. Like sky diving, you needed to trust that everyone did their job to ensure you would survive. You wanted to be saved because there was so much life you wanted to see. You took the water bottle. Sabrina smiled and sat back down. “Good, the ball is in your court,” she said. “Lead me in whatever direction you want.”

*

“I’m going for a run,” you said while you entered the common area. Yelena watched you grab water from the fridge. “I’ll be back.”

“Do you want a running partner?” Natasha asked, but you quickly shook your head.

“It will be quick,” you smiled. “Figure out what you guys want to do for dinner.” You called out before putting on your headphones and left out the side door. Yelena frowned as you left. Twice a week, you leave the compound and go on a run. You went alone every time, no matter who asked you to join. Natasha walked over to the window, and Yelena got up from the couch to join her.

“She’s hiding something,” Natasha said. Yelena nodded in agreement.

“Do you think she’s cheating on Carol?”

“God no,” Natasha shot that idea down. “I just wish she trusted enough not to have to hide.” There was no way to hide the hurt in Natasha’s voice.

“She’ll come around,” Yelena smiled. “She always does.”

*

“Still hiding away, I see,” you rolled your eyes. You were video chatting with Sabrina for your weekly season. Your back rested on the tree trunk while you sat on the forest floor. There was a thin layer of sweat on your forehead from your run. “Why don’t you trust them with this?”

“I do trust them,” you defended. “I just-” you trailed off. It was one of the annoying things about Sabrina. She was patient - too patient for your fucked up mind. “I don’t want to seem weak.”

“Admitting you need someone to help you through your mind does not make you weak,” she told you. “I think it makes a person very strong.” You sighed and looked past your phone to the wilderness around you. “Trust is a thread that holds relationships together,” you looked back at Sabrina. The doctor was drawing in her sketchbook. It was something she always did during your sessions. You never asked what she was drawing, and she never showed it to you. She put the sketchbook down when she saw that you were looking at her. “When it frays, even those who care the most are left powerless to help. Doubting those who care for you builds walls, not of protection, and in the end, loneliness becomes your only certainty.”

“What are you getting at Hall?” You asked. The doctor was spinning a pencil in her hand.

“You are at a standstill,” she said. “You will not continue to heal unless you trust them with this side of you. But also trust yourself.”

“I do trust myself,” she looked at you like she did not believe you. The only way to survive in this world was to trust yourself.

“To an extent, yes, you had to trust yourself because who else would you trust? But I want you to trust yourself to be vulnerable and to feel weakness. You do not have to be the strong one all the time.”

*

Natasha’s door was open when you knocked on it. Yelena was on her bed while they were sharpening some of their knives. “Are you going to throw one of those at me?”

“Do you deserve to have a knife thrown at you?” Natasha questioned. You shrugged.

“Depends on who you ask,” you smiled and walked into her room. You found some space on her bed and sat down. Yelena handed you a knife and a sharpening tool.

The repetitive action of sharpening a blade was calming. It was nice to spend time with them. “Do you have something on your mind, sestra?” Yelena asked. You smiled and looked over the knife. Flipping it over, you stared at your reflection.

“Sam helped me find a therapist,” you decided to rip off the band-aid. “I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now.”

“That’s great,” Yelena said. “I’m so proud of you.” You looked down, embarrassed by the praise.

“Why did you wait this long to tell us?” Natasha asked. You sighed and, when you were done, handed the knife to Yelena.

“Million-dollar question, right?” Natasha chuckled. “I guess I didn’t want to seem weak to you guys. Hell, not even Carol knows.” You picked up another knife to begin the process again. “I trust the two of you with my life,” you began. “But I’ve learned that I don’t trust myself to be vulnerable or weak. If I’m not the strong one, then what is my role? What is my purpose.” Natasha took your hand to stop you from sharpening the knife.

“You just have to be our sister,” she said. “That’s all we want.” You smiled.

“Sometimes I wish life was kinder to us,” you admitted. “We were far too young to be subjected to the darkness.”

“We got each other out of it,” Yelena smiled.

“The best thing to come out of the Red Room,” you joked.

*

You stayed awake until Carol returned from space. “Jesus,” she jumped when she opened the door to her room. “You scared the shit out of me.” You giggled and stood up from her bed.

“Sorry,” you smiled and closed the distance. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised,” she said, wrapping one arm around your waist while closing the door with the other. She pulled you flushed to her chest. “Hi baby,” you felt the words rumble from her chest. I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you kissed her cheek. “How was space?”

“Good,” she sighed. “Tiring, but I kicked ass and looked good while doing it.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“You always look good,” she covered her mouth as she yawned. “Come on, my captain, let’s get you to bed.” Carol shook her head.

“Shower with me first, then bed,” she kissed you softly. “I promise to behave.”

That was hard to believe, but you followed her to the bathroom. This type of intimacy and trust was new to you. Showering with someone was never slow and sweet. It was usually against your will, dirty, and fast. Carol taught you differently.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her—naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her - naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

“Krasivyy (beautiful),” Carol mumbled. The words she knew in Russian were few, but she knew the ones that made you smile.

“No funny business,” you warned, pulling the Avenger into the water. She insisted on washing your hair first. The way her fingers massaged into your scalp made your body feel boneless. Once your hair and body were clean, you returned to the favor.

Carol hummed. “You have magic fingers, baby girl.” You chuckled and kissed her shoulder.

Once the soap washed off Carol’s body, you turned off the water and dried yourself off. You took some of Carol’s clothes to change into and climbed into bed. Instantly, Carol pulled you into her arms. Like with your sisters, you decided to rip the band-aid off. “I’m seeing a therapist,” you said. Sam found me one based in the city.” She put her finger underneath your chin and forced you to look at her.

“Do you like her?” You nodded. You liked Sabrina. She was annoying and got underneath your skin, but she forced you to face the hard parts of your psyche. “Proud of you, baby,” she kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter. Her fingers ran through your hair, bringing you closer and closer to sleep.

Carol was proud of you, as were Natasha and Yelena. It felt good to hear. “I love you,” you mumbled against Carol’s chest. The tide was all-consuming. You felt breathless and weak, but you were working on fighting the waves. You were proud of yourself, too.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Benched

Summary: You’re cut from participating in missons for the foreseeable future; the news was delivered by none other than your girlfriend, Natasha. The torturous break from Avenging seems to be unfair... until you hear the other perspective. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 2,393 Warnings/Themes: Angst, fluff, gun use, killing, repressing memories

“I’m sorry?” You weren’t sure if you had heard Natasha’s words correctly; her serious tone didn’t match the saddened look on her face. She was standing across from you as you sat at the empty conference table, summoned only moments ago by the Widow herself.

“We’re benching you from missions until we feel you’re ready.” They didn’t sound any more real this time, either. Natasha, your mentor and girlfriend was telling you to sit the next few missions out. Actually, she was forcing you to sit every mission out for the foreseeable future. You were furious, but tried to keep composed as to not dig a deeper grave.

“Until you feel I’m ready? That’s subjective, how long will it take?” You questioned with crossed arms, your shoulders stuck by your ears out of defense. You’d never been like this around Nat; closed off, defensive, angry. She’d never needed to bar you from missions like this, so it was a first for the both of you.

“We feel your actions on the last mission require some time off.” She explained, noticing the unrelenting confused yet frustrated expression on your face. Natasha felt bad, she was only following the orders of her superiors. They believed that making her relay this information would soften the blow, but as your girlfriend it didn’t make it any easier.  “Look,” She walked around the table, sitting beside you. Her hand found your knee, a soft touch forcing you to unfurl your brows slightly. “This isn’t a punishment. We just want to make sure you’re okay mentally after what happened.”

She was referring to the events of yesterday's mission, something you had hoped would just get buried under the rug. It was supposed to be a simple interrogation; the team would press the target to find some confidential information. The only issue was that the target had a liking for pushing people’s buttons. His jabs were relentless, spitting insults about the people he’d killed like they were nothing.

You were only supposed to hold the gun to his head in a daunting, coercive way. So you did, for a while anyways—until he stated something you didn’t believe was humanly true.

“I don’t regret killing them.” His words had turned your blood to ice, the pointer finger stationed over the trigger shaking out of anger. He was talking about the people he killed to get close to the Avengers. Some of them being your family, the people you loved most. His greedy play was wiping pawns off the table, when in reality they were more than just objects. Natasha was originally reluctant to include you on this mission, due to your emotional connection. But this man had targeted many of the Avenger’s closest relatives, so if she benched you she’d have to bench everyone else.

It turned out she’d have to bench you anyways, as you broke protocol within seconds of his nasty comment. The gun echoed through the cellar you were all stationed in, the man suddenly going quiet as his head lolled to the side. The main source of intel for one of the biggest missions was dead. Everyone’s heads turned toward the responsible weapon; there you were, eyes wide with a smoking gun still held to his head.

After being escorted back to the compound between silent teammates, you locked yourself in your room for the night. Natasha tried to come in, knocking on your bedroom door every so often with tempting offers of cookies or movie nights, but you wouldn’t budge. The next morning, hushed whispers greeted you the second you entered the kitchen. It was obvious they were talking about you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You knew what you did was wrong, and were ready to move on. So, you acted like it didn’t happen.

Maybe that worried the team even more, especially Natasha. You weren’t one to move on from things so quick, especially considering the grudge you held for the man responsible for all that death. Breaking protocol like that and shooting an important hostage was even more out of character, you knew the importance of his intel. Running on impulse, especially in regard to your emotions was unusual, it would be for any trained agent.

But it all caught up with you, and clearly the team discussed a plan of action behind your back. They believed your slip up was more than just a mistake—that there was something deeper behind it. It was slightly offensive, seeing them assume you were emotionally inept that they didn’t even include you in the conversation. You didn’t even think hard enough on what happened to realize maybe they were right; instead you shoved it deep down inside. Now, the truth was facing you head-on, and there was no escaping it.

This isn’t a punishment? You repeated Natasha’s words in your head. It sure felt like one, your favorite thing in life being withheld like a kid getting their iPad taken away. Everyone knew how much your work meant to you, so why would they take away the one thing you loved doing? Besides, you felt fine mentally. The past was in the past, and you were ready to move forward.

“I’m fine, I swear. Please, Nat—don’t take me out of the running just because I made a mistake.” You pleaded, looking to her with a softened expression. The two of you were close, having been in an official relationship for months now. But this was uncharted territory, and the thread connecting you both was slipping as this new side of you was showing. It was her turn to become defensive as she withdrew her hand.

“A mistake? You killed our most important hostage! If you weren’t one of our top agents, Fury would’ve had you fired!” She was right, but you weren’t going to admit that. Instead you huffed, leaning back in your chair as your gaze found anywhere to look but at Natasha.

“I couldn’t let him get away with what he did.” You muttered, shaking your head. Natasha took a deep breath, concern slowly rising across her face. It was easy to see the hurt on your face, even without directly mentioning your family. They were your everything, and he killed them like they were nothing. But two wrongs don’t make a right, every agent knew that. You should’ve known that. And she didn’t want you to jeopardize your job—your passion, over your stubbornness. She leaned toward you slowly, her eyebrows lowering.

“See, this is what scares me. You knew we’d find justice eventually, but you could’t wait and it blew the entire mission.” Natasha spoke carefully, her words making your stomach churn. Scared?Blew the entire mission? Even for her, these were hasty conclusions to draw.

You crossed your arms again. “What are you insinuating?” To say you blew the entire mission was harsh, even if it was true. An agent would never blame another, not directly like this; especially when that agent was your girlfriend. You knew there was more to it, the ice hidden underneath her tone queued you in.

“That now your family will never get the justice they deserve.” Her words are like knives, stabbing straight into your heart. You weren’t sure if she was trying to break you, or if she truly felt this way. That your mistake cost the entire mission, one that was supposed to avenge your dead relatives. Your eyes went wide with shock, expression frozen as you processed the very words that left her lips. They weren’t coming from your girlfriend; the girl you loved would never say such a thing.

Natasha doesn’t flinch, yet unbeknownst to you she was heartbroken on the inside. You both felt like a stranger was standing opposite, your actions and her words causing a rift between the connection that was strong mere days ago. You were impatient, emotional, and couldn’t follow the stupid protocol, and now it may have cost your job and maybe even your girlfriend.

Your eyes narrowed, oozing with betrayal. “You don’t mean that.” Words softer than the hardened expression painting your face, you were almost speechless. Once again, Natasha left you questioning if what she said was actually true, or just a figment of your imagination.

She nodded once, slowly, like a predator bowing its head to prey. You were officially benched, and there was no arguing your way out of it.

—————-

2 weeks, 4 days, 1 hour, and 37 minutes had passed since you were forced to stay within the many walls of the compound. Not like anyone was counting, though. Although spacious and full of various forms of entertainment, the large facility made you feel restless after the first day. You grew bored, itching to get your hands on new cases or even old mission reports.

The quinjet was taunting you. Standing outside the large glass window, calling your name as you sat inside waiting for the go-ahead. But as the hours, days, and weeks passed, it never came. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha since the fight—only exchanging quick glances through narrowed eyes or inconspicuous expressions in passing. Instead, you bothered everyone else about it.

“No, you’re still on temp-leave,” someone would say. “Take some time to relax, focus on yourself.” More voices would eventually join in. It was unrelenting; the only ‘self-care’ you cared about was the one thing that genuinely made you happy: Avenging. But everyone was stuck following orders, keeping you locked inside the compound with your own self to blame.

When everyone left you alone at the compound to go on missions, It gave you time to reflect. You paced the halls replaying the mission over and over, eventually shaking your head as the memory morphed into the shape of your family. You didn’t want to think about them, so you simply filled your time with busywork in order to keep the hurt at bay.

After picking up a few new hobbies, discovering some newfound talents, and recovering old favorite pastimes, you still felt a hole where Avenging used to be. You missed it, and this time off was making you feel worse, if anything. On the 20th day, you built up the courage to talk with Natasha. She was tame the past few days, finally offering you the occasional smile when you made the team dinner, or handing you baked goods when she went on her usual coffee run.

Natasha was sitting in the empty living room, typing on her laptop as she glanced between the screen and some mission reports. “Hey,” you spoke softly, sitting down on the couch opposite of her. Her green eyes popped up, eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly. You had her attention. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have belittled my actions that hurt other people, it was truly more than just a mistake and I feel terrible about it.” You were speaking truthfully, and Nat could tell; but she wasn’t satisfied.

Shutting her laptop, she stacked her work off to the side with full intrigue. “Tell me, have you thought about your parents during this time off?” She questioned. You swallowed thickly, immediately regretting your half-assed apology when there was more to it than just feeling bad about your actions. You hadn’t thought about your parents, mostly on purpose; and Natasha was hoping to get after exactly that.

“Look, love,” Her tone softened slightly, and the use of the nickname made you feel even the smallest bit more comfortable. She was still yours, and you were still hers, it was all just on hiatus for the moment—like your job. “This break wasn’t supposed to be time for you to feel bad about what you did. It was time for you to process what happened.” Natasha stood, moving to sit next to you as her words made the air catch in your lungs.

“You can’t change the fact your family has passed, and I need you to have a chance to grieve before we send you back onto the field.” To an average person, everything she was saying made sense. But the issue was, you didn’t want to pause and take the time to process what happened. You wanted to swallow it all and move on to whatever job would come next. But Natasha knew the dangers of that.

You took a deep breath, your gaze finding the floor. “I told you, Nat. I’m fine to go out onto the field. I’ve thought over everything and I feel ready.” You countered, eyes meeting hers as you really tried to convince her. She found your hand, gripping it tightly with both of hers.

“Then tell me exactly what he did to your parents.” Her words hit your chest like a boulder, all of the air you once had no longer existing as your breathing stopped. It was a test, and she knew you wouldn’t be able to answer without breaking down. And fortunately for her, it worked. Tears welled in your eyes, the flood of emotion hitting the wall you built in an attempt to avoid it. But it wasn’t strong enough this time, Natasha knew all the right buttons to push. You gave in, allowing each tear, each sob, to have a chance to see the light as you leaned into Natasha.

“That’s it.” She cooed, pulling you close into her shoulder. Her hands ran through your hair, offering a comforting touch you desperately missed. The person she loved dearly was slowly coming back, the agent who wasn’t just a stone-cold face ready to suppress all emotion in the name of work. Being an Avenger wasn’t just about being brave for others, it was about being your best self so you were capable of offering that support on the field. The entire time, you missed the true meaning of the hiatus.

But now, you were back on track. Natasha was glad to see you finally start the long road to processing your grief, and she’d be there the entire journey. You were grateful to have her, and suddenly even more grateful she gave you the time off in the first place. If you weren’t so naive and stubborn, maybe it would have been easier for you in the long run. But that didn’t matter, because with Natasha, time felt like it didn’t exist.

[waaayoutofline]

Murder On The Dancefloor (part 3)

(from the When the Cat and the Mouse Go For a Midnight Dance series) | Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: Nothing too explicit. Just angst-

WORD COUNT: 3849

A / N: Helloo! So, this is a lengthy one. Remember when I said that this was a trilogy? Well, clearly not-There will be at least one more xd Thank you all for reading and interacting <3

***

When it came to Agent Natasha Romanoff, the word easy was never in your vocabulary. If anything, your dynamic was the opposite. Between the two — both so different, so stubborn and set in your own ways—peace never had a chance to take root.

But as you two glided onto the dance floor with a scary synchronization, an old ‘70s song playing softly, that elusive word was the only one that came close to describing the moment.

It was staggeringly, painfully easy.

The redhead took the lead almost instantly, with a grace and serenity that seemed worlds away from her usual strict persona. The lights cast errant glimmers of gold and silver over her, making her pale skin seem to glow. The faint scent of her perfume left a trace in the air that you couldn’t help to notice.

In these fleeting instances, the woman you’d been at odds with for years seemed subtly, strangely changed.

As if swaying to the beat, guiding you effortlessly through each step, was something she was born to do—like reuniting with an old friend from the past.

You might’ve been confident in your own skill, but you were briefly relieved that Natasha clearly knew what she was doing. If you hadn’t known her better, you might have mistaken her for any of the prestigious dancers here.

Struck by the unfamiliarity of the moment, you were startled back by the countdown of Ethan Cole.

“One, two, three, one!” With that, the music changed to a more upbeat song, and everyone sprung into action. 

With a firm grip on your waist, Natasha pulled you closer to her, her lips lightly gracing your ear. You could feel the warmth of her body contrasting against your usually chilled skin. 

”So, what now?” She blurts out, straight to the point. You create some just enough distance to blink up at her innocently. 

“Oh, whatever do you mean?” You asked sweetly. The redhead didn’t even blink as she stared you down with an unimpressed look.

”Please, we both know you're not planning on winning this with the honour of sportsmanship, so let's cut down the chase.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Oh, perhaps she did know you. 

“But that’s my favourite part!” You practically whined. 

She was right, of course. You weren’t stupid enough to let season veterans surpass you so easily. “You wound me, Natasha. I can play nice, y’know.” You defy, but she merely looks at you. 

“Perhaps. But you don't really want to, do you?” She mutters, lowly enough to almost get engulfed by the base notes of the song. But you hear it loud and clear, the words sending a pang of excitement which further increases as you see the tiniest of smiles graze her lips. “So, who is it going to be first? The Barbie and Ken you have been eying up since we first arrived? Or perhaps that one couple who just came out from a 70s disco ball special magazine? 

Your smirk went into a full-blown grin. ”Ah, perhaps some of my mischievousness has rubbed off on you.” You taunted defiantly. 

“You wish” She scoffed, now with a small smirk of her own. This was no different from your usual banter, but instead of the underlying aggressiveness, there was just harmless playfulness. It felt familiar but strange all the same. 

“Just…-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes with a playful huff. “Don’t worry. It’ll be a… bloodless murder on the dance floor. Just try not to kill the groove, and we’ll get that pass.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow at your quip, a glint of challenge in her eye. Before you could process it, she pulled you in close, spinning you around with a swift, practised move. In an instant, you found yourself pressed against her, her hand settling confidently on your hips.

Heat flushed your cheeks as her face leaned in close to your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You could practically feel the overconfidence radiate off of her when she whispered, “Oh you got it twisted Raven. You will be the one trying to keep up with me.”

You gulped, not really knowing how to react to this sudden shift in her attitude. No, you were the one who usually teased her, not the other way around. It was throwing you slightly off balance. 

After another beat, she spun you around again, bringing you face to face. You pray to the high heavens that she doesn’t notice the slight pink on your cheeks. 

As if on cue, a call of ‘The all together’ rang out. In the blink of an eye, the dancers fell into a line formation, their bodies synchronized, down to the stomps on the ground. Arms raised in a clap, performing a series of dramatic moves in perfect unison.

You seized the brief moment of distance from your peers to gather your thoughts. This wasn’t the time to lose focus. No, you were here for a reason. This time there was something higher at stake.

Natasha distracting you shouldn’t even be a factor! But ever since stepping onto the floor, it was as though she had done a complete 180 on you.

The intensity rose, some couples are already being disqualified, but there were still too many people left, you realized. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath. Concentrate, Raven.

Graciously, Natasha seemed to float above the air as she reached for you again. Once you two were together again, you scanned the other participants' positions, trying to find an opening.

A sigh escapes you, thinking how easy it could have all this been if Natasha didn’t force you to play nice. 

As the two of you engaged in some movements, you eyes landed on the various couples. Some were already moving with  impressive confidence, reaching cockiness. 

You cursed softly under your breath. This just barely started and you already have seen someone being spun through the air like a helicopter. 

But if they think they are going to get away with victory, you are going to prove them wrong.

”Move us to the right.” You mutter in her ear as she pulls you in close after yet another crossed movement. Surprisingly enough, the redhead complies, easily moving you around to where you desired. 

Rolling away, you “accidentally” flex your leg, just in the nick of time to make a woman trip and fall on her backside. 

There was a commotion as the girl’s partner stumbled, desperately trying to catch her up, but it was too late. One of the judges noticed the mistake and promptly disqualified the two. 

The girl, red-faced with fury and indignation, started throwing accusations in your direction, her words growing more frantic as she was pulled away by her partner—and eventually by Cole himself, who seemed to have none of it. Her protests were muffled by the booming call of the “All Together.”

Natasha stepped up beside you, gawking. 

“What?” you said, shrugging and refusing to look her way. “It got the job done, didn’t it?

Her lack of answer was enough for you.

Your attention shifted to an obnoxiously coordinated trio of men directly in front of you. You rolled your eyes, already setting your sights on them. Before you could make your move, Natasha’s hands found their way to your hips, effortlessly guiding your body to the rhythm. 

Her movements were fluid, her touch steady, and your coordination fell perfectly in line as though you two have been practising this for weeks. Was there anything she wasn’t good at? You asked yourself in a mix of confusion and subtle admiration. Not that you would ever confess the last one of course.

As she extended both your arms outward, her free hand brushed over your shoulder in a deliberate motion. Your breath hitched, your eyes fluttering slightly at the unexpected gentleness. You weren’t used to this—weren’t used to her like this.

“I know that glint,” she muttered near your ear, her voice knowing. “Got another victim in your sights, don’t you?”

You hummed in confirmation as you guided her with your eyes to the next person to sabotage, not trusting your voice to sound steady. Natasha caught on to your plan as you slipped from her grasp, gracefully executing a cross-body turn. 

She was quick to guide you back into rhythm as you swooped in, swiftly grabbing the thin strap of one of the competitors’ dresses. With a tug, the whole dress fell, pooling at the woman’s feet.

A gasp escaped the blonde as she scrambled to cover herself, fleeing in panic with her partner chasing after her.

“That was mean,” Natasha admonished, though the laugh she barely stifled betrayed her. The corners of her lips twitched upward, and for a moment, the guarded edge that so often was present in your exchanges softened under the shimmering light of the mirror ball.

“Oh? Is Agent Romanoff actually having fun?” you teased, unable to hide your delight at the rare shift in her demeanour.

Natasha huffed, but the faintest trace of a smile lingered on her lips, betraying her amusement.

It caught you off guard. The usual tension and harshness that defined your… relationship, seemed to dissolve in the glimmering light. For once, there was no mission, no stakes—just the two of you, sharing a laugh in a moment that felt painfully human. Having a nice, casual moment

A voice laughed mockingly in your head at that. 

This went on for a while to the point where even less people remained. The only issue was that the quality of them was also notoriously good.

Through the speakers, one judge announce a small break time. The competitors were expected to keep a bit of a groove going, but it was also a chance to grab some refreshments. It did give you an idea.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you said softly, stepping away from Natasha. Before she could ask what you were about to do, you managed to slip through the crowd, your movements fluid enough to blend in with the rhythm of the room.

Spotting the drinks table ahead, you made your way toward it, gliding with purpose. You glanced around, making sure the coast was clear, then discreetly twisted the hidden compartment on your ring, revealing a small amount of white powder. Just as you were about to mix it into the lemonade, a familiar presence stopped you.

Natasha.

This time, she succeeded in intercepting you, catching your wrist. Her grip was firm but not rough. 

“Raven—” She started, with doubt. It wasnt as accusatory as usual, but it had enough distrust.

“Natasha,” you interrupted, mimicking her tone, though the seriousness on her face made you falter slightly. 

The playfulness from earlier was briefly diminished, replaced with a slightly sharper gaze that meant business. 

Of course. You were briefly enchanted by your timed truce. Natasha’s trust in you still remained as fragile as always.

You sighed, deciding to drop the act. “Geez relax, I’m not poisoning anyone. It’s just laxatives,” you admitted with a chuckle. “Lame, I know, but effective.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied you, searching for any sign of deceit. But you held her gaze steadily, unflinching. After a tense moment, she finally released your arm.  “Thank you,” you said while forcing a grin, stepping past her toward the table.

 You didn’t know why her distrust stung, it wasn’t like the two of you were friends.

“Now shoo—you’ll scare off the boys.” You winked with an overexaggerated enthusiastic expression before turning back to your task, feeling her eyes linger on you for a moment longer before she moved away. Quickly putting in the powder, you stirred the drinks, stood pretty and waited. 

Quickly enough, the trio of men from before approached you, each one wearing what they likely thought were “million-dollar” smiles. You greeted them warmly enough, keeping your expression as unassuming as possible.

“Hey there. Saved some drinks for us?” one asked cockily.

Feigning shyness, you nodded and held out the drinks.

“I’ve been watching you,” another added, his voice dripping with confidence. “Quite the pretty thing with some decent moves, aren’t ya?” His eyes gave you a once-over, and you fought the urge to roll your own. Oh, you’d been watching them too, alright.

You accepted the compliment with a small, bashful smile as they eagerly grabbed their drinks, clearly parched.

They didn’t hesitate, drinking quickly. It didn’t take long for discomfort to show on their faces. Their grins faltered, replaced by pained grimaces, and just as quickly as they had arrived, they were stumbling away, clutching their stomachs.

You finished your own drink with a satisfied grin, which you quickly replaced with one of feigned confusion.

However, your moment of triumph didn’t last long. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Montgomery’s sharp gaze locked onto you. 

You froze briefly, then scanned the dance floor for Natasha, only to realize that she had noticed too. When her eyes met yours across the room, an unspoken understanding seemed to pass between you.

Before you could process what was happening, Natasha moved swiftly. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the participants crowding the drink table, she slipped out of sight, disappearing behind the curtains. A moment later, you caught a glimpse of her grabbing Montgomery—the older woman’s face twisting in surprise—before they both vanished from the floor entirely.

You blinked, momentarily stunned.

Huh. You didn’t think she had it in her to play along with your games. 

She soon enough came out of the shadows, moving towards you as if nothing happened, just in time for the dance to resume. Guiding you yet again to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but so sneaker. She huffs while moving to position. 

“That was reckless.” She comments. You shrug, hands returning to your rightful place. 

“What’s life without a little risk? Besides, now we only have two judges to care for.” She doesn’t look necessarily pleased with your justification, but relentless nonetheless. 

“Spin me around.”  You muttered, subtly patting your chest with your free hand. Always observant, Natasha caught the motion, her curiosity piqued as her eyes followed the movement. When she didn’t respond, you felt slightly put off.

“Natasha?” you called again, your tone playfully insistent.

When her gaze finally locked with yours, you seized the moment, winking with a knowing smirk and raising your eyebrow, questioning.

It could have been the rising temperature or the suffocating heat of the lights, but you were certain the blush that crept up to her ears was very real. Ah, got caught.

She was embarrassed, you realized. It felt a bit nice, seeing for once the imperfect and human person under the secretive superspy. Not that she would ever really show you willingly, you thought. 

Finally, she lifted both your arms with deliberate ease, guiding you into a smooth spin. With flawless timing, you used the momentum to grab the butter packet you snatched from the snack table, flicking it right under the heel of a currently spinning dancer.

Grinning with satisfaction, you watched as the pair stumbled when she slipped and lost their footing, resulting in yet another immediate disqualification.

This pattern continued throughout the night. Your personal favourite moment came when you managed to slip one of your lacy thongs into the pocket of an unsuspecting male dancer. The garment was just visible enough for his partner to spot it, her face twisting in fury before she slapped him hard across the cheek.

Hiding in Natasha’s arms, you parted away from her chest as if startled by the scene, gasping dramatically.

“Wasn’t that one too far?” Natasha murmured, her tone low, brushing past playful. “I think you just broke a relationship.”

You shrugged, your smirk teasing as you feigned innocence. “Hey, I paid the price,” you said with a light-hearted tone, but then your grin turned sharper, your eyes glinting with mischief. You leaned in as if to share a secret.  “I looked really, really good in those.”

Your voice dipped just enough to charge the air, and as you pulled back, you met Natasha’s gaze through your lashes, your head tilted ever so slightly in a challenge.

You didn’t miss the way her breath hitched. The mask of her usual composure faltered, her eyes darkening ever so slightly as her grip on your waist tightened. For a fraction of a second, you felt her fingers curl against you, her control slipping.

“Careful,” she said finally, her voice low and rough, almost a warning.

She knew what you were doing. You were using the same techniques that seemed to be engraved in you. The seductiveness, the calculated teasing. A mechanism. 

It was one thing that set her off, not knowing when the real you started or ended. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m just practising.” This made Natasha’s eyebrows furrow, a characteristic wrinkle appearing right above her nose bridge when she was confused. You always noticed it because, well, it was probably the expression you made her feel the most.

“The slick brunette seems to hold Harper’s attention. I’m going to redirect it to me,” you said with confidence. But before you could head to the judge’s table, something tugged at you. 

Ugh, Natasha couldn’t seem to let you go. If it were any other circumstance, you’d be flattered, really.

You turned around again, fully expecting a judging look and a disapproving frown. Or even something you were all too familiar with in your life—people who looked at you as if you were a nuisance, always glancing down at you from above their shoulders.

But no, what you encountered was… worry. A strange, almost foreign expression in Natasha’s repertoire that she had reserved for you, and one you’d never seen directed at you. 

But there was no mistaking it. Her eyes seemed to glimmer, her lips tugging downward in clear displeasure. Her mouth opened slightly, but only a shaky breath escaped for a few seconds before she seemed to regain her composure.

You had never seen this kind of worry on her face, not when it came to you.

Finally, Natasha straightened, her body language shifting into something calmer, almost careful, as she stepped toward you. 

“There’s no need for that.” she said, her voice soft, as if she were trying not to scare you away.

Still confused by the sudden change, you tilted your head up to meet her gaze. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

Her expression, however, didn’t relent. The weight of her concern hung heavy in the air, and you hated it. You hated the shift in the atmosphere, the way her focus seemed entirely locked on you, unyielding. It was making you restless.

This just didn’t happen between you two. It couldn’t.

Your dynamic was never like this, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a spark of resentment at her sudden change. 

You’d bantered, teased, and danced around each other almost two years now. You couldn’t allow her to start caring—not like this.

“But you don’t have to.” she shot back firmly, as if sensing your inner turmoil. “I just…we have an actual shot at winning now. Let’s just keep doing what we’ve been doing until now.”

You huffed, glancing around as if to find some excuse to shake this off. “Natasha, look around. We’re down to the final six. Any trick we pull won’t go unnoticed now.” You tried to sound exasperated, but there was a small tremor in your voice. “C’mon, it’s not like I’m going to sleep with him,” you added, trying to inject your usual teasing tone, but it came out with a shaken breath of desperation.

Desperate for her to return to normal. Desperate for her to stop caring so suddenly and openly. Desperate for things to go back to the way they were. You couldn’t stand this.

Your banter with Agent Romanoff was one of the few steady things in your life. It was entertaining yet distant, predictable yet invigorating—like a perfectly choreographed dance. It was something you relied on, something easy and familiar. Something you desperately needed. 

“Don't say that just— I know that you can, but why do it just now? I…we—are going to find another way that doesn’t involve you seducing the pig.” She insisted. As if also, somehow, begging. You didn’t need to hear the words between the lines to understand. You could see it in her.

You both knew it. Not only that, but you were both trained for it—trained to wield your bodies like mere tools for any ends, stripped of your identities for however long it was necessary to get the job done. But the weight of that knowledge, the sheer detachment it demanded, always gnawed at your soul, voracious and unrelenting.

You two fought. She clearly disliked you. So why was she acting like she worried?

It wasn’t meant to be like this. You both weren’t meant to be like this. Frustration starts to build at her sudden change. How dare she take this away from the briefest of moments?

But this wasn’t Natasha, you realized as you dared to meet her gaze again. Her stormy sea-green eyes had shifted into something softer, something more vibrant—a glimmering jade.

No, this wasn’t Natasha Romanoff.

This was a rough sketch of Natalia Alianova Romanova.

A mystery you hadn’t unravelled.

For the first time since meeting her, you felt your blood drum faster, your chest tightening with a nervousness you hadn’t experienced in years. You had always known how to handle the ruthless, unflinching Agent Romanoff. But standing before Natalia?

You were at a loss.

And you were too weak to handle it. 

Releasing an exasperated breath, you broke the now unbearable eye contact and drew in a steadying breath. This was going too far—you wouldn’t, couldn’t, let it. So, when you opened your eyes again, any trace of Y/N Y/L/N faded into the recesses of your mind, locked away and chained.

When you spoke to her again, it wasn’t you any more, not quite—it was Raven. Every grin, every flicker of movement, every perfectly placed mannerism was calculated, deliberate, practised.

You saw the realization hit her, the weight of it sinking like an anchor in the sea-green depths of Natasha’s irises. Her expression barely shifted, but you could feel it. The tension, the shift, the subtle acknowledgment that you had drawn a line between you both, a barrier she wasn’t meant to cross. But she did. 

”Don’t worry, Agent. I’ll get us those passes.” You smirk, overconfident, but even you could feel the detachment in your own voice.

Slipping away, you managed to avoid her brief disappointment. Finally being able to just breathe normally, you shook your head.

Something between you and Natasha had shifted. You felt it in the erratic thrumming of your heart, like a bird desperate to escape its cage, and the faint tremble in your knees that betrayed your composure. You didn’t know how to handle it—weren’t even sure if you could.

At the table, your hands quivered, a crack in the carefully constructed mask you wore. With a subtle clench of your fists and a steadying breath, you forced the tremor away, slipping into the practised ease of a smile. Whatever had just passed between you and Natasha—it couldn’t matter.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

[stuiie]

Chapter 42 - The Color of You

Guess what? My hotel does have Wi-Fi! It’s not the best, but hey, it’s better than nothing. I’ve been soaking up all the gorgeous sights here (seriously, it’s stunning), but I also managed to spend a good chunk of my 14-hour flight writing. So, I figured—why not share what I worked on?

Honestly, I have no clue if it’s any good because my brain’s been on vacation mode, but I’m just going to throw it out there and hope you enjoy it!

[yelenasdiary]

Binge watching The Walking Dead with Nat 🥰

[rewiringtoheal]

This Pain Is Temporary

Anna x Fem!Reader

He's Just Not That Into You AU

Summary: I was watching this movie and had a lot of what if questions. What if the main cast actually all communicated with each other? What if Anna actually had some character development? What if Reader was a variation of a female Conor Barry who got a clue? And how would these differences lead to Anna genuinely falling in love with Reader.

warnings: very slowburn, angst, worse before better, eventual fluff.

You feel used. This person that you love…loved?? You aren’t really sure anymore of your feelings toward Anna. It was never simple with her. And truthfully, you wish you could go back to your blissful ignorance.

 You had been so thrilled when she told you she was finally ready to take the next step with you. A real relationship with the girl of your dreams. Having your heartfelt love confession be returned and then making love for hours was more than you ever could have hoped for. 

You now knew it was all a lie. And that Anna was a very skilled actor. In your excitement you had raced home the next morning to tell your best buddy Alex and his new girlfriend GiGi the news. After showing them a picture of Anna and you. The night of bliss quickly turned sour; GiGi hesitantly told you that Anna was the same woman that had a very recent affair with her best friend's husband. And everything the past few months had started to make sense. How Anna would constantly ignore your calls but somehow always be available when she needed her emotional needs met. And finding out that the only reason she wanted a relationship with you was because the man of her dreams wouldn’t leave his wife was heartbreaking. How could you be so stupid? And how could you be so blind to the type of person Anna really was.

You felt a hand squeezing your knee bringing you back to the world around you. You  see GiGi’s hand retreating and her eyes filled with sorrow. You muster up a strained smile.

“Well, at least I had my dream girl for a moment even if it wasn’t real. Looking back, I kinda see now that she treated me like shit but I was so lost in her. I can’t believe I was so blind to her selfishness. And now this…I don’t think I ever really knew her at all,” you say somberly.  

Alex let out a deep sigh, “Dude I don’t really know what to say. She did really shitty things but maybe she's not a shitty person. The moments you had together weren’t all fake. The parts of herself she showed you are probably real. And you can love those parts and still be hurt that she lied about her feelings for you.”

You give a weak chuckle, “You’re right..but I don’t know how to deal with this. I do still love her even if she used me. I see it so clearly now. I’m the back up plan. The person she really wanted hurt her so she chose the safe option.”

Gigi looked at you, her eyes filling with sorrow, “Sometimes people don’t know what they have until it's gone. She is making awful decisions and it’s hurting everyone around her. Deal with this by loving yourself first. I know it's hard but she doesn’t appreciate you. And only wants you when she has no one else.”

That was hard to hear but Gigi was right. You need to take care of yourself. For months you have been putting all of your energy into Anna. Being there for her emotionally, picking up her dry cleaning, giving her rides, and loving her to the best of your ability. All to realize that she never really cared about you, not even as a friend. A friend wouldn’t play with your feelings like this.  

You continue to chat with your friends for a little while longer. Eventually you grow too sad and too tired to keep up the conversation. You excuse yourself for the night and head up to your bedroom. Not in the mood to do your night time routine you just chuck off your clothes, put your cellphone on your night stand and cuddle under the covers. 

Your mind keeps turning in circles as you lay there. The happiness you had felt earlier today has turned into a deep sadness. And for the first time since Gigi told you about Anna you allow yourself to cry. As silent tears move down the contours of your face you burrow into your pillow; just praying to yourself that you can fall asleep. Anything to stop the pain. 

You briefly wonder if Gigi’s friend Janine is in the same state you are right now. You know more than likely she is worse off than you. Janine's entire life is in shambles. Her husband is awful no doubt about it but you just can’t wrap your head around Anna getting involved with a married man. Nothing makes sense anymore but maybe you never had a clue to begin with.