#Natasha Romanov x you

[unholyhelbig]

Can we please please PLEASE have part two of Brackish?

Title: Brackish [Part Two] | Read Part One Here

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3454

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, mentions of ice baths, cannon typical violence, nightmares, physical testing, murder, KGB conditioning, Horrible grammar I don't proofread!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: Totally wasn't expecting the response the first part got, thank you so much! Truthfully this ask and the draft was sitting in my inbox for months. This is just a bunch of fluff. I don't know where to take it from here. Hopefully you enjoy!]

You’d woken up screaming, something that never bothered Daniel Whitehall. There were stretching corridors that were damp from broken pipes and water buildup. It smelled thickly of metal and never offered any kind of warmth. It carried your agony like a music box, or a greeting card. It had amused him- his men. So, you did your best to swallow your distress. But sometimes it was impossible to tamp things down in the bridge between sleep and alertness.

It had been three days and you still expected to be jerked back into the reality. A frigid tub of ice and metal under Whitehall’s hand. You must have lost your grip on reality and the Avengers Tower, Agent Romanoff and her rigid kindness, was all a mental tactic, to account for the trauma. You’d finally been broken.

But no: Right now, as you woke up screaming as the hours rolled into the fourth day, she was there. The bed was too soft. You’d learned, and sleep did not come easy. But you drifted off in spurts and woke with air caught in your throat. Never yelling. Never in such a panic.

You didn’t remember what had startled you, but there was a cool hand against your cheek and another one splayed against your chest and worried green eyes peering into yours. You moved to fight back, wanted to push the limbs away until you realized who they belonged to. Until you breathed in that polished scent.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over her wrists.

She was a busy woman. You’d realized that over the past 72 hours. Agent Romanoff was in high demand, her signature was required on countless documents and many with downturned eyes stalked up to her with a nervousness that you didn’t quite understand but, you were beginning to.

After some persistent pushing from Natasha on the second day, you’d agreed to blood tests, to EKG’s and other medical trials to make sure you were relatively healthy after years of captivity. She’d promised to stay, and she did. While a certain heat and embarrassment colored your cheeks at the unspoken request, she saved your dignity that morning by not brining it up.

Natasha frowned, didn’t say anything but applied a short pressure to your jaw with her thumb before guiding a glass of water to your hand as she lowered herself to the bed. “Sip this, all of it until it’s gone. Don’t gulp, it’ll hurt your stomach.”

You nodded, doing as you were told. She watched you carefully until you finished the glass. You wanted to cower under her scrutiny, but your heartrate had slowed by the time you’d drained the water and she’d taken it the moment it was empty, her hand on your knee as a grounding source. She was like that, you’d learned, attentive and able to read what you needed though you’d not found your voice to ask.

There wasn’t a clock in the guest room. You didn’t know what time it was, but no morning light seeped through the crack in the door and sleep still clung to you like a heavy blanket. You let out a deep breath and pressed your head against the wall behind you, tempted to let your eyes droop shut, but stopped from the fear of another scream ripping through you.

“The nightmares won’t go away. They’ll come less and less, but they’ll always be there.” She swallowed audibly, ran her fingers over a raised pink scar from a blade, or a bullet, or some type of metal that could easily tear skin against her exposed muscle. “What you went through isn’t easily forgotten. You can manage the symptoms, push it to the back of your mind during your waking hours but it’s hard to fight that kind of thing when you’re asleep. You’re guard can’t always be up.”

You nodded, working your hand through your damp hair. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t” Natasha assured “Would you like me to stay?”

More than anything. It felt like crossing a line. There wasn’t a chair in the guest room. It was fairly sparce. A bed and a nightstand and lamp that had bathed you both in a soft golden glow. It would be easier to tell her no, to ask her to leave. But your chest wouldn’t forgive you for that.

So, you scooted over, looked at her expectantly, going as far to peel back the duvet. Natasha huffed out something akin to a laugh and laid in the spot that you had just vacated. You could feel the heat of her skin, the closeness of her as you lowered yourself down next to her. She paid you a mercy by turning the lamp off.

The two of you lay, shoulder to shoulder, breath synchronized. You couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t. Your entire body was wound up. While Agent Romanoff’s presence was a balm, it also wound you up like a spring. You were conscious of every movement. Every twitch of your finger and tense of a muscle.   

“It scares me that I can’t remember things.”

You could hear Natasha turn her head in the dark, the shift against the pillow. Her breath was warm against the side of your face. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, a stone on the center of your chest. You couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable- this at ease- in a long time.

“Do things come back when you sleep?”

It was her job, you knew, to pull things from you. In exchange for a bed and warm meal, you’d give her anything. She had quiet eyes and a quietness to her that gave away the fact that she was examining you methodically. But there was something else there that you couldn’t pinpoint. Something caring.

You turned onto your side, facing her, curling up more for your own comfort. “More of a feeling than a memory. Being there, I recall everything. Whitehall, his brainwashing, his tests and his tortures. His why’s and his motives are foggy. It was like he just wanted to inflict pain. But at his core. At Hydra’s core, I know that’s not true.”

Natasha adjusted on the bed, turned to face you. Inches apart. Her nose was close enough in the dark to bump against your own. Neither of you spoke for a moment, hands brushing closely like a bridge uncrossed.

“I worry that they changed me in way’s that can’t be unchanged, but can’t recall who I was before they’ve changed me. That they kept me alive because they were… succeeding in something that they hadn’t before.” You let out a heavy breath, it splayed hotly against Natasha’s chest, warmed her. “That deep down inside, something uncontrollable is there.”

Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat that could only be described as a whimper. Tentatively, she’d shifted in the quiet, had found the edge of your jaw in the darkness and traced the sharpness of it with her touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaned into it.

Soon, her palm was against your cheek, warm from the prospect of sleep. Her hold soft as she pulled you forward, the initial shock of the swift movement replaced by that detergent scent and the instant comfort. An undignified grunt escaped you when you slotted so perfectly against Natasha’s front.

You’d learned rather quickly that she liked to show her protection.

When your blood had been drawn, the tech on the medical floor insisted of her credentials but quickly blanched with a glare from the Black Widow herself and the assured hand at the base of your spine. You’d shown your strength during the physical trials as they monitored your heartrate during a mile run, and Natasha had watched with a warning stare as another tech adjusted the censors.

And now, she wrapped her arms around your center and hooked her leg over your own. She was tense until she felt the coolness of your nose against her pulse point, the way you nuzzled against her, sighed into her comfort instead of tensed, as if she feared of rejection.

“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was a rumble, your ear this close to her chest. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”  

There was a sensor under your collarbone, one on either side of your chest, and another directly under your ribs. Two more that had been stuck to your abdomen. The adhesive was unbearably itchy, and you had half the mind to tear them away. A huff pulled uncomfortably at you. Another huff earned you a sharp glare from the woman wrapping your hands.

Natasha was on her knees for you. Not for you, but certainly in front of you. Either way it made you blush profusely. She worked with intention, making sure that the next trial they were putting you through was safe enough for you to participate in. A tech had offered to do this for her. For you. But she’d refused.

“Stop pouting, sweetheart. This is the last one and then they’ll leave you alone for at least the weekend.”

“Promise?”

Natasha sighed and her exhale was hot against the skin on your chest, forming a valley of goosebumps. You swallowed back a shiver. “No. Now sit back.”

You did as you were told, all the while, another SHIELD tech kept a keen eye on the both of you. Nameless, faceless, dressed in black. You almost preferred them this way. Whitehall was a constant for you, a villain that always signified a form of hurt and anguish. The constant revolving door of men and women made it impossible to link a test with a face.

Natasha was almost the opposite. You were starting to associate that piney, vanilla bergamot scent of hers with safety. It scared you. Her hands were assured and so were her movements. You were very aware that she had been with you nearly all hours of the day since you’d been pulled from the wreckage of all you’d known for possible years. Stockholm syndrome, some would call it.

You approached it with reckless abandon. You didn’t care. She was warmth. She was opposite of ice baths and frigid water that you choked on until you blacked out. She was lean muscle and healed scars and tender green eyes. She made it easier to think. She gave orders that were easy to follow: To sit back. To Stop Pouting. To Get some Sleep. You could do those things. Those things were easy.

“We’ll start at a weight of fifty and steadily increase until you cannot support the bar any further.” The nameless, dark-eyed man said, not looking up from his tablet. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable during the test, please alert me or Agent Romanoff. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, laid back on the cool bench and adjusted yourself until you stared up at the metal ceiling. It looked taller from this angle, impossible to reach. Black weights were saddled on either side. Agent Romanoff’s presence was at your six the entire time. Lingering, watching with careful and apt attention.

“Alright. You may begin. Make sure not to lock your arms.”

The bar was nothing in your hands, a slight nuisance, if anything. Ever-so-slowly the weight was increased: Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. All the way to 700 before another huff left your lungs, chin tipping towards Natasha as you stared up at her. Pouting. You were absolutely pouting.

They were being methodical about this, and that also meant it was taking ages. One of Natasha’s brows was quirked and she worried the nail of her thumb between her teeth as they upped the weight to a solid 1,000. You adjusted your hold on the bar. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no strain, no sweat. No spike in heartrate.  

“Okay. I think we know enough.” Natasha finally barked. “Right?”

“But I-“

“Right?”

Sure, it had only been a few days, but you knew that tone and it was enough for the SHIELD agent to snap his jaw shut and for you to replace the bar before sitting back up. The test, you were sure, was far from over. But there was such a finality in the demand.

You knew you had some strength to you, sure. Daniel Whitehall wouldn’t keep you locked up the way he did, in a steel-enforced cell, if that weren’t the case. The binds you’d sometimes recall were much too thick for anyone that had the normal stamina, someone who could survive his trials. You don’t remember being tested like this before, your limits pushed.

The SHIELD agent tapped at his screen, letting out a non-committal noise “Well, your strength is remarkable. You say you don’t remember a thing? I think you could benefit from some memory recovery sensory therapy.”

Natasha rumbled in the back of her throat, snatching the tablet from the man before shoving him roughly from the room. You watched the display with raised brows, the protective edge to her that you knew was there, but hadn’t been privy to at this degree. He protested, but didn’t’ overtly stop her. Not even when she slammed and locked the door with the waggle of her fingers and the lowering of the blinds.

“The know at all’s from logistics get on my nerves.”

She wouldn’t look at you, instead clicking off the screen and throwing the tablet onto the counter. There was a light blush to her cheeks. You peeled off your shirt, almost in habit now, leaving you in nothing but one of the agencies issued sports bras. The adhesive was getting too irritating.

Your eyes lingered on her. “Uh-huh, is that all?”  

“Yes, that’s all.”

But when those deep green eyes snapped up to yours, the way her breath hitched betrayed her. You’d effectively flustered the Black Widow herself and it brought a sort of heady confidence to you that you quite enjoyed. You ripped the sensor from below your ribcage away, the stickiness making an odd noise as it pulled away.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about, what he was suggesting is out of the question. They’ve run enough tests on you to determine that Hydra didn’t place any type of chip in your brain. They didn’t change your bone density or alter your blood chemistry. With your added strength, your speed.” She closed the distance between you, ripping another sensor off with little abandon, her hands cold against your skin. “We’re looking at an infinity stone.”

You grunted under her touch, fingers soothing over the spot she’d just torn, a silent apology. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Wanda Maximoff, do you know her?”

You shook your head, remaining still as she moved to the next sensor. Agent Romanoff pulled with the same quickness as before, but was softer with her hands, instantly using the coolness of her palm to quiet the sting that soon followed. You’d given up peeling them away yourself. Instead, you peered up with her with watery eyes, blinking and doe-like. They’d melt her if you weren’t careful, and it seemed like you never were.

“Hydra conducted experiments on Wanda and her twin brother Pietro using something called the Mind Stone. A very powerful mineral that ultimately should have killed them, but it didn’t. It changed their DNA and gave them abilities. Pietro super-speed and Wanda the ability to manipulate the world around her.” Natasha’s voice was smooth as she spoke, the final sensor ripped away, you watched her do it, frowning at the red mark it left behind.

After a few moments of labored silence, she dragged her touch feather-light against your jaw and guided your attention back to her own. “They think Whitehall got ahold of the power stone, and they think it was used to torture you for years to replicate the success achieved with the Maximoff’s.”

“I don’t think he was very successful,”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your chin, not enough to wound, never enough, but a soft warning. “Nonsense. You’re more capable than you think.” Her thumb ran over the blush that was suddenly running across the bridge of your nose and your cheek. “Let’s take a break from all these boring trials. I want to show you something.”

There was a basement that resided below the cacophony of spruced up cells in the Avengers tower. You’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Romanoff and watched as the numbers descended. Her scent had soothed you, even as the cold infiltrated the elevator and reminded you too much of a metal tub, safe for the water.

It jolted to a stop before the anxiety swirling in your lower belly could solidify. Natasha led you into another corridor that looked like all the other corridor’s in the tower. She walked with no urgency and you followed with the same pace. Finally, you reached another non-descript door, only accessed by the card on Agent Romanoff’s belt.

You were hit by the sharp scent of decaying paper, quiet leather and dust. There was a coolness here. A dull light that Natasha flicked on. A heaviness that reminded you of a library. There was a history here that told you it hadn’t been accessed in a long time.

Copy boxes lined bookshelves bracketed to the walls, a single table with a few chairs sat pushed in the corner. Natasha seemed to know exactly where she was going, exactly the files she was looking for. “We’re a multi-trillion-dollar organization, yet, all of the incriminating evidence about the Avengers exists in this singular room.”

You flinched, eyes meeting Natasha after she hauled the off-white box to the center of the table. You watched her carefully, not moving from your rooted spot at the edge of the doorway. You blinked at her, mouth slightly agape. She was trusting you with this. She was trusting you with this?

“Natasha you can’t… you don’t have to…”

“I want to. Come, sit.”

The chair was frigid against your skin, the whole room kept tepid to preserve the documents. Natasha sat adjacent to you, your knees brushing in a surge of warmth. Neither of you moved to pull away. She pushed the box to the far end and pulled out the first file, edging her fingers against the manila.

Before she could pry the cover back, you gripped her hand, squeezed it with fervor. “Wait, you can’t do this. Agent Romanoff, if you… if you tell me this, and I’m- if Whitehall did something that fundamentally changed me and I turn around and betray you, then I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“Mm” She hummed, frowning down at the file. “There’s more to you than that.”

“And if there’s not? I don’t even have a name, and you’re about to trust me with everything from your past, everything you’ve worked so hard to scrub. I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything, darling. I didn’t scrub anything, I embraced it.”

Her other hand engulfed the one that had covered the one that had grasped her own. You hadn’t realized that you were squeezing so hard for purchase. Goosebumps covered your entire body, and you were trying not to tremble. It felt as if your bones were trying to claw their way from your skin. You ground your teeth together to keep them from clacking.

Natasha’s hand left yours for only a moment, peeling the cover of the file back, moving it in between the both of you. “I was born in Stalingrad Russia, indoctrinated into the Red Room by a man named General Dreykov. The Red Room was a program designed to create sleeper agents utilized by the KGB. Young girls were taken against their wills and molded into perfect killing machines.”

Your thumb moved over her knuckles, scarred from years of strain. She grasped back, grounding herself.  

“For years, I was just that. Ruthless. Cruel. I spilled an impossible amount of blood because that’s what I was trained to do. It was a cycle. Wake up, kill, sleep. Wake up, kill, sleep. Sometimes they’d throw a little torture in there just to spice things up.”

You knit your eyebrows together, a small whimper escaping you.

 “Tough room.” Natasha gave you a sad smile “milaya devochka, eventually, someone saw through the dripping ledger and what Dreykov had done. They saw me. That made a world of difference when the programming I had was all I’d ever known.”

You swallowed thickly, fingers tracing a raised pink scar at the edge of her palm. You let out a shaky breath. “And you… can be that person for me?”

“I’d like to be.”

[Dt: @ima-gi--na-tion, @l0nelyish, @taliiiaasteria, @ahintofchaos, @redhoodte]

[please-destroy]

Someone Familiar

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K

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Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.

Natasha did not believe in luck, only the absence of it. You could understand why good things made her nervous. You saw the effects of her childhood, of her entire life, every day.

Your relationship had clashed with Natasha’s understanding of the world. She’d told you, on your second date, that love was for children. Her brow had knitted in confusion when that had made you kiss her harder.

Natasha saw herself as fundamentally lacking because of her past. Natasha radiated steady love and then wondered why you trusted her.

You knew it was tied to the graduation ceremony that she’d been subjected to in the Red Room. It had taken years for her to believe in your relationship, in the simple success of it.

In a way, you understood her hesitance. There were too many pieces that had fallen into place. Too many hurdles cleared at the last second. 

Together, you had already built something better than Natasha had ever hoped for. Then, one day, you asked her to build something new together.

.

You took the positive pregnancy test when Natasha was on a mission. You’d been trying for several months already. 

Each negative test had stung more than either of you knew how to process. Everytime, your heart would sink heavily and you’d try to smooth out your expression. You’d meet Natasha’s wide-eyed stare and watch a raw anxiety wash over her. You hated that look more than anything. Natasha had held your hand and taken a leap of faith with you. With every negative test you felt like you were letting her down, asking her to have hope when there was no guarantee. 

There was always an awful kind of silence after a negative result. Hearing Natasha’s shallow breaths echoing in the tiled bathroom. You’d bring your arms around her slowly, only tightening your hold as she folded into your arms. You’d wrap yourself around her softly, like a blanket, making your own heavy disappointment lighter so that you could carry some of hers.

‘It’s only negative this month.’ You would remind her carefully, repeating words you weren’t sure that you believed. After a moment, Natasha would kiss your cheek and you’d know by the way she avoided your lips that it was meant as an apology. Natasha was always apologising for what she couldn’t give you. 

Natasha didn’t chase happiness, because she didn’t know how to have it. 

.

When she first met you, every moment together felt a little frantic. She held your hand on unofficial dates and you watched her unsurely, waiting for her to change her mind. Kisses felt unintentional, hurried but passionate as if neither of you could help it any longer. 

You couldn’t decide who this woman was, why the pieces of her didn’t quite fit together. You wondered when Natasha was ever just herself.

Initially, you only saw it in glimpses. But, Natasha shone through the smallest of cracks.

At night you faced each other in the bed, restfully watching each other in the silence. There was an electric kind of comfort in the space between you. It was those silent moments, in between heartbeats and shallow breaths, that made you certain of Natasha. That you fit together in a perfect way. 

Natasha would lift her hand hesitantly and run her fingers over your skin. She drew light patterns that never seemed to end. You watched her marvel at the fact you were still in her bed. That you weren’t leaving. That you thought you could be whole with her. 

For you, pregnancy was a dream worth chasing. A future that you could build with the person you loved. For Natasha, making a family was soaked in her own failing. The way she saw herself was unfair, it was untrue. Still, the feeling lingered.

It was past midnight when you took the positive pregnancy test. You’d had an inexplicable feeling and you’d been correct.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You barely recognised the person you saw, the giddy excitement reflected in your eyes. Natasha wasn’t there, but you heard your own hitched breaths echoing in the room and felt your joy double on her behalf.

.

You made no plan for how to tell Natasha. You knew the news would be surprise enough. 

In the end, you didn’t even have to say the words.

Natasha walked through the front door around midday. A scheduled mission had overrun and she’d come home straight from the formal debriefing. You were leaning awkwardly against the back of the sofa, perched in anticipation as soon as you heard her car pull into the drive. 

Subtle tension left Natasha’s face when she entered her home. Her smile widened in pleasure at the sight of you. Your returning one was soft and careful.

Natasha scanned your expression casually as she walked towards you. There was a second of normalcy where you met her unsuspecting smile. Your rapid heartbeat thudded in your own ears. Her scan of your face faltered and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Your smile widened as her eyes searched yours more closely. Your head dipped briefly in confirmation.

Natasha exhaled all at once, as if she’d finally been allowed to breathe. She dropped suddenly to her knees, a few feet from you. Her hand touched her own waist, bracing as the shock rolled through her. Her mouth stayed open but no air reentered her lungs.

You moved forward instinctively and your hand touched her shoulder. Natasha’s eventual inhale was long and ragged. Her hand brushed the back of your leg. You’d become adept at reading the muted signals of Natasha’s emotions. For the first time, there was nothing subtle in her expression of surprise.

Your hand moved to brush the top of her head, trying to ground her in the reality of the good news. Natasha looked up at you and her eyes had the same sparkle that you’d seen in your own in the bathroom mirror. You grinned familiarly. 

Now that Natasha knew, the reality was settling with you too.

Her hands slid hesitantly under the front of your shirt. Her fingers grazed your stomach reverently. The warmth of her touch settled your jittering nerves for a moment. She started drawing light patterns across your skin and her lips pressed against your midriff. You loved her completely.

Natasha’s hands continued to trail up your sides as she returned slowly to her feet. Now, her fingers touched your face. She looked at you like you might not be real. You could feel the tremor in her touch.

‘Are you sure?’ She asked you suddenly, fingers stilling against your cheeks. You smiled even wider. You nodded again. 

‘We’re having a baby.’ You said simply. The words sounded too much like fantasy. You took her hand and led her to the bathroom, to show her the test that had confirmed every impossible hope.

.

Natasha moved into a new kind of overdrive from that day forward. Nine months stretched before you like a precarious blessing. 

Natasha gravitated around you whenever she could. The casual hand around your waist became a constant when you were together. There was a redheaded shadow for every mundane errand. It was flattering and a little unnerving to have such unadulterated attention. 

Still, you saw the lingering carefulness in the way Natasha looked at you. The insecurities that led her to seek out reasons to touch you. It was fear that made her throat close up when you wondered aloud about baby names.

.

You were sure that Natasha was waiting anxiously for the bump to appear. 

One morning, you caught her lingering, arms folded as she leaned against the bedroom wall. You were half naked, removing your pyjama top, when you noticed her interested gaze. You smirked as you turned around, lifting your clean shirt from the bed.

‘You can see your baby whenever you want.’ You reminded Natasha lightly, filling with a gentle kind of love for her. You held your smirk, waiting to see hers in return. 

Your heartbeat stumbled when she glanced back at you with a hesitant incredulity. You placed the shirt back on the bed and reached out to Natasha instead. Natasha moved closer, her eyes watching your bare stomach nervously.

You ignored the way her stare made you feel like a stranger. She was always familiar to you.

Slowly, you pressed her hand softly against your stomach. Natasha knew your body well enough to recognise the slight change that couldn’t yet be seen. Her other hand moved to mirror the first. You felt her warm palms slide hesitantly along your bare skin. Your breath hitched and Natasha blinked in surprise at the effect of her touch. You watched her expression change as she felt the first proof that the baby was there. Her eyes flitted up to meet yours and you recognised what you saw there. 

Natasha loved the baby already. You wanted to tell her that you understood, that you felt the same.

Your throat closed up when Natasha’s lips found your collarbone. 

Suddenly, she was whispering hurried ‘Thank yous” against your skin. You moaned at the brush of her lips, though her words didn’t sit well with you. You wondered if Natasha understood how much the baby was already hers to love.

.

Natasha would have walked through fire with you. Still, you hated having to make her watch your morning sickness unfold. The waves of nausea found you in sudden onslaughts throughout the day. 

You tried to push through it, ignoring Natasha’s clenched jaw as she watched you gingerly pick at your food.

Every time you ended up running to the bathroom, Natasha insisted on sitting with you on the miserable cold tiles. Her hand rubbed familiar circles along the small of your back. Her touch was filled with concern, but it still soothed you. Natasha always brought you balance.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself crying at every mealtime. The morning sickness refused to lessen and a new sort of uselessness flooded you whenever you couldn’t keep a meal down. Each time, Natasha wiped your tears silently before she cleared away barely touched dishes. You watched her move through the kitchen, her eyes closing for long moments as she fought her own frustrated tears.

You could feel Natasha’s misery at being unable to fix it for you.

The feeling of failure only highlighted your wife’s resilience. 

Natasha tried every non-threatening food she could think of. She returned from grocery shopping with bags filled with the blandest foods imaginable. 

Nothing worked. 

You tried to hydrate as much as possible, tried to frame whatever food you did keep down as a positive. Still, you knew Natasha was starting to internalise your continued sickness as part of her own incapability.

Everything that she cooked or scoured from the shelves at the grocery store was rejected emphatically by the baby.

.

At last, your body finally granted you reprieve, just as the doctor had assured Natasha on several occasions. 

You woke from an afternoon nap, indulging in the lazy weekend feeling of being at home with your wife. Selfishly, you loved being sure of Natasha’s proximity in the house. You wondered absentmindedly if Maria had had a heart attack when Natasha announced she was going to take all her unused time off, effective immediately.  

You wandered sleepily through to the kitchen and over to Natasha. She was sitting with her back to you at the counter, scrolling on her laptop.

You rested your chin on her shoulder, snaking your arms around her back and letting out a satisfied sigh. Natasha let out an answering huff of laughter, leaning back slightly into your hold. There was a small jar of caviar open on the table. You knew she was sneaking it whenever she thought you wouldn’t have to see it. Your nose still scrunched at the thought of consuming something so fishy.

‘I want Mac n Cheese.’ You mumbled unthinkingly as a yawn overtook you suddenly. 

Natasha stiffened in her chair and she turned to face you. 

Her hand touched your chest, tilting back slightly so she could better assess your yawning expression.

‘Really?’ She asked you carefully. ‘You’re hungry?’

You smiled suddenly with the realisation that you were finally feeling able to eat.

‘All I want is Mac ‘n Cheese.’ You confirmed readily. Natasha got to her feet instantly. She looked at you for a moment and you revelled in the fondness of her attention. Her hands squeezed your shoulders in obvious satisfaction.

‘I have to run to the store.’ She rushed out hurriedly, kissing your lips briefly but emphatically. 

Natasha’s love felt like a hot shower, encompassing and addictive. You watched her fly through the house, grabbing her keys and wallet. Her enthusiasm for you caught like a lump in your throat. You fought tears as you gave her a half wave, matching her wide grin as she glanced back before heading out the door.

.

Natasha’s mac and cheese tasted like heaven. As you helped yourself to a third helping, you began to feel sure that this was also your first craving.

Natasha had barely eaten any herself, continually putting her fork down as she watched you moan with delight with each bite. You grinned unashamedly, too blissed out from the relief of keeping the food down and the deliciousness of the meal itself.

‘How have we never eaten this before?’ You asked Natasha dramatically. Her answering smile was soft. 

‘I had it a lot as a kid.’ She answered succinctly. Your surprise was evident, her reply was not what you’d expected. You tried to comprehend the Red Room ever providing Western classic dishes.

Natasha’s head shook in anticipation of your confusion.

‘I spent a few years in Ohio.’ She told you, a tightness in her voice as she forced a casual stab at some pasta with her fork. ‘It was an early mission.’

You stayed silent, knowing far more was omitted than what had been shared. Natasha stabbed another piece of pasta and you reached out automatically to touch her arm. Natasha glanced back at you and suddenly, she looked much younger.

You hated the people who had taken her childhood.

‘Was Mac n Cheese your favourite food?’ You asked, ignoring how strange it was for such an unassuming question to hold such weight. Natasha looked down at her plate when she shook her head. The food started to rest more heavily in your stomach.

‘Not my favourite.’ Natasha clarified in a carefully level voice. ‘Someone else’s.’ She paused again, choosing the right words. ‘A friend’s.’

Natasha looked back at you and you met her gaze steadily. No part of Natasha hinted that she felt off balance. Still, you caught the nervous energy emanating from her.

Your thumb brushed her arm soothingly and you didn’t ask any follow up questions. You both knew that she never had any friends in the Red Room.

‘Maybe it’s the baby’s favourite too.’ You said lightly, trying to alleviate the unspoken sadness that had settled between you. 

You stood up, moving to clear the dishes. You took the opportunity to kiss Natasha’s forehead.

‘At least it’s not caviar.’ You muttered teasingly, stealing Natasha’s fork and the piece of macaroni on the end of it. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and you knew she was settled by your familiar tease about her favourite food.

She stood up too, moving behind you suddenly. Her arms stretched around you to take the empty dishes from your hand, a silent insistence to leave the clearing of the table to her. Her lips touched your cheek and you felt immediate warmth spread through you at her affection. Pregnancy made Natasha’s love even more overwhelming.

Her lips lingered by your ear.

‘That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time to teach them about having good taste.’ Natasha promised you, kissing you again before taking the dishes to the kitchen.

You stayed quiet, hiding a sudden beaming smile. You wondered if Natasha realised that she’d started making plans as a Mom.

.

Natasha circled the date of your sonogram on the calendar. 

The calendar was already your favourite item in the whole house. Natasha had bought it a few weeks after you’d found out that you were pregnant. She’d filled in every important date that she could think of before hanging it in the front hall. 

You had a suspicion that she was trying to recreate the domestic family life that she’d seen played out in movies. Natasha, the professional spy, was not who you’d expect to display important upcoming dates for anyone to view. 

Your heart felt fuller and heavier when you saw Natasha attempt to become the Mom she wasn’t quite sure how to be.

You ached when you realised how little she had to go on. Natasha could learn anything and you watched her work to understand what she was missing. 

Her bedtime reading became exclusively books for expectant parents. She studied with a quiet purpose that made you wonder if she was expecting a test at the hospital.

As the day of the sonogram approached, the two of you mentioned it less and less. There was a heightened feeling of anticipation that was hard to acknowledge. 

You knew that Natasha didn’t actually care about the sex of the baby. Natasha didn’t believe in horoscopes either. Still, you’d found her plotting out the zodiac the other day, trying to figure out which star signs were likely for your baby.

Natasha was impatient to know her kid better. You related to the feeling entirely.

The silence on the drive to the appointment was full of awkward anticipation. You tried not to focus on your growing need to pee. They’d told you to drink some water before the appointment and you’d gone a little overboard. You turned on the radio for distraction, tuning in unexpectedly to a ‘Cheesy Hits’ station. 

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers filled the car and relieved the tension. Natasha’s fingers started tapping out the beat on the dashboard. The shift in the air was tangible and, suddenly, you felt like you were going on an adventure together. 

‘Dolly for a girl and Kenny for a boy?’ You suggested with a smirk, making sure to keep your eyes on the road ahead. Natasha was not thrilled by your insistence on driving today and you were determined to be the perfect model of safety behind the wheel.

Natasha leaned back against her head rest and you could feel her eyes on you as she turned to face you.

‘Mickey or Minnie.’ She suggested drily.

Your lips pressed together as you tried not to laugh. 

‘Barbie or Ken.’ You countered and Natasha snorted. There was silence in the car and you knew Natasha was trying to think of something to make you laugh.

‘Kermit or Miss Piggy.’ She suggested suddenly and you found yourself desperately trying not to pee as you drove.

The giddiness you felt, as you checked in at the reception, reminded you of that first day together when you’d known that you were pregnant. Natasha’s fingers were interlaced with yours and her touch grounded you. 

You didn’t speak in the waiting room, filled with a shared understanding of the moment. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave your belly. The baby was part of you and so was Natasha. The three of you felt like one person.

Natasha told you that the jelly was going to feel cold before the nurse could. You wondered if she knew it from movies or from her studying. 

Natasha was trying so hard to be a good mom. Things were already too heightened and you started crying unexpectedly. Natasha used her free hand to stroke your hair comfortingly.

‘Soon.’ She promised soothingly and you knew she thought you were crying with anticipation of the scan. 

Natasha made your heart beat. 

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the baby’s heart beating too.

When the grainy black and white image of your child appeared on the screen, Natasha stopped squeezing your hand. Your eyes moved between the screen and her expression. Unadulterated longing was written across her face. Her eyes turned to you and you met her gaze readily. Her desperate hope mellowed as she watched your steady joy.

Natasha’s smile turned wide and free. You had never seen her entirely unburdened before. Your eyes turned back to the screen, loving your baby entirely. 

The nurse informed you that it was a girl and the announcement didn’t even register. Natasha started crying, burying her head against your shoulder. Your arm curved around her back automatically. The nurse smiled at you and you smiled back. You felt free too.

You started laughing when you were back in the car. Elton John played out the speakers and Natasha stared down at a picture of your baby.

‘That’s your daughter.’ You reminded her happily. Natasha shook her head but her eyes stayed fixed on the picture.

‘I’m dreaming.’ She said dazedly and something about her tone made you blink back tears again. 

You didn’t have the right words. 

Instead, you placed Natasha’s hand back onto your rounded stomach. There was no absence of proof now that her dreams were coming true.

You didn’t drive back home immediately. You couldn’t resist heading to the baby store instead. When you took a left turn and Natasha realised your intention, she sent you an indulgent smile.

You wandered through the baby clothes section with a languid kind of confidence. You were going to have a daughter. Your skin tingled with happiness.

Natasha sought out a store assistant as you browsed. She wanted to know about the safety ratings on cribs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you heard her begin the interaction by announcing that she was expecting a daughter. The store assistant answered her questions readily and caught your interest in the clothing section of the aisle.

‘These are always my favourite.’ She told you conspiratorially as she approached, picking up a onesie that read ‘World’s Best Sister.’

‘We don’t need that.’ Natasha informed her immediately in a level voice. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her corrective tone. 

‘Not yet.’ You added, sharing a smile with the store assistant before turning back to face Natasha. 

You expected to see playful exasperation in her expression. Instead, you saw a fierce and inexplicable kind of hurt. Natasha’s gaze was painful to meet. The store assistant saw it too, she placed the outfit back and moved away quietly.

‘Natasha.’ You started hesitantly, feeling entirely unsure of yourself. Natasha just shook her head. Everything felt raw and you knew from the way her eyes darted around the store that this wasn’t the right time.

You kissed her cheek in wordless apology. You led Natasha out of the store, expecting some insistence that you should finish browsing. Her continued silence made you worried. 

You saw the way that she swallowed uncomfortably and felt a corresponding lump rise up in your own throat. You didn’t have to understand the sources of Natasha’s pain to feel it too.

You let the Cheesy Hits station continue to play as you drove home. The silence was tense, but the music still offered some sort of reprieve.

You started humming along as the tune of ‘American Pie’ began to play. At first, you didn’t notice the change in Natasha’s breathing. Her hand gripped your arm suddenly and you startled at the unexpected touch.

You glanced over to her and caught her struggling to take a breath. Illogically, your first thought was that she was choking. Then, you heard her rattling inhale and recognised the panic attack. 

Anxiety flooded you too as you tried to keep driving safely. 

‘What is it?’ You asked stupidly as you started moving hurriedly through the lanes of traffic.

Natasha’s words were fearful and they didn’t make any sense.

‘I think my sister is dead.’ She told you as the shaky breaths turned to ragged sobs. 

You pulled over at the side of the road. You moved towards Natasha, ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the other cars rushing past.

‘Breathe love.’ You directed her calmly, resting your hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her.

With military effort, Natasha forced herself to breathe regularly. The sound was still shaky and her inhales were desperate. You’d never seen her spiral like that before.

You turned off the radio unthinkingly and Natasha sagged with a weighted kind of relief. You glanced at the car speakers in alarm. You tried to guess what her words could have meant. 

Natasha’s breathing regulated and you confirmed your suspicion.

‘The song?’ You checked carefully. Natasha nodded once, blowing out a slow breath.

‘You have a sister?’ You asked now and she nodded one more time, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You nodded too, trying to reconcile this new piece of information.

‘At the store.’ You began softly as the pieces clicked. Natasha gave you a pained look in confirmation.

‘That song was her favourite.’ She told you in between carefully controlled breaths.

You couldn’t help your eyebrows raising in confusion. The song was too American to fit with Natasha’s past. In a flash, you remembered the Mac and Cheese. You remembered her ‘friend’ in Ohio, you wondered how long that early mission could have lasted.

‘I don’t know where she is. She could have died in the Red Room.’ Natasha confessed and her eyes were filled with an awful self-loathing. You wondered how long she’d been living with this private grief. 

‘Can you track her down?’ You asked her unsurely, feeling the conversation drain away all your earlier joy.

‘I mean, can we track her down?’ You corrected immediately, because Natasha wasn’t doing this alone.

‘No.’ Natasha shook her head and her voice caught. ‘She, uh, she wouldn't want to see me.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ You prompted quietly and Natasha nodded. 

‘We’re not. We weren’t real sisters. There was a mission. It was all pretend.’

You could see the guilt resting on Natasha’s shoulders, you watched her bend forward under the weight of it. Her hands covered her face briefly. 

‘That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real.’ You reminded her quietly. ‘Blood doesn’t make family.’ 

You took her hand then, it felt too cold. Instinctively, you covered it with both of your own, trying to give her warmth. You ignored the fleeting concern that Natasha wouldn’t see her daughter as really hers either.

Natasha shook her head slowly and abruptly you were sure that you’d said the wrong thing.

‘It felt too real.’ Natasha murmured. ‘She was too young. She didn’t know the truth. Not until they sent us back to the Red Room.’

‘Oh, Natasha.’ You said softly, because your heart was breaking. Your arm slid softly along her arched back.

Sometimes, you could imagine Natasha as a kid, the abandoned girl that monsters had raised. You had seen how protective Natasha was of you, of the child that was still inside of you. You imagined another little girl, trusting Natasha as family. 

You ached for Natasha’s loss, for the failure you knew she saw as hers.

.

‘She might be living happily somewhere, just like you.’ The words fell out of your mouth that evening. You were already in bed, you’d placed the sonogram photo on top of your nightstand. Your mood had swung sharply all day between bubbling joy and weighted tension. 

Natasha was undressing at the foot of your bed. Her breath caught and she looked at you. You saw the same desperate longing in her eyes as you had at the sonogram. You felt the urge to keep speaking.

‘If she’s anything like you. She’ll be busy causing trouble and making a family of her own. She’s your sister, it’s not impossible.’ 

The images sounded too fantastical and you paused uncertainly. Natasha’s eyes clung to yours. She moved over to you, hands touching your thighs as she crawled up the bed. Natasha looked vulnerable and your eyes searched hers carefully, trying to determine what she was looking for.

She lifted your top slowly and pressed her lips to your belly. You watched her reverence and felt a slow heat build inside you. Natasha kept moving up your body and you felt her breasts brush over you as she curved herself around you.

When she reached your mouth, she leaned in to kiss you. There was the slightest hesitation and then you felt her gratitude for your farfetched comfort. Giving Natasha hope was all you knew how to do.

Natasha pressed her lips against yours for a second time. When the kiss broke, more words fell from your mouth.

‘What was her name?’ You asked simply.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha replied and the sound of it was precious.

.

You celebrated Natasha’s birthday on the 1st of December. It was unlikely to be her actual date of birth, but it was the one she used. All Natasha knew was that she’d been born in winter. 

Your baby was also going to be born in winter, but not until the new year. You felt too large now, missing the simple flexibility that you’d taken for granted your whole life.

You’d had plenty of time to think of a birthday present for Natasha. A Russian ballet had seemed like a risky surprise. You’d asked her about it before you’d booked the tickets. 

Natasha’s smile had been shy at your suggestion.

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She informed you hesitantly and you wondered if you’d ever stop finding new ways to love her.

Her birthday had been a languid and casual affair. You were getting tired more easily and yet hormones had woken you before daybreak with unbearable excitement. 

Your eagerness had lasted through most of the lunch at her favourite restaurant. Natasha had flushed self-consciously in front of her friends when you kissed her enthusiastically after she cut the cake. 

Clint’s sarcastic applause seemed to rally Natasha and she marked your nose teasingly with a piece of frosting just to make him roll his eyes.

By the time you returned home, you were living in a new state of exhaustion. Natasha ended up driving in silence whilst you napped in the passenger seat. 

You knew she didn’t mind. Natasha gently led you back into the house and onto the sofa. Your eyes barely opened, trusting her guidance entirely. You remembered nothing after the moment your head had touched the sofa cushion.

You startled awake when Natasha’s fingers lightly touched your shoulder. You smiled lazily when you saw her face hovering above yours.

‘Happy Birthday!’ You told her, arms going wide in a half stretch and half celebration.

Natasha stared down at your upside down smile and blinked back tears. 

You were no stranger now to sudden rushes of happiness. You moved her hands over to your belly. 

‘You can’t get one of these every year.’ You mumbled, still sounding half asleep. ‘Takes much more baking than a cake does.’

Natasha laughed easily, the sound bubbling up in a way that was rare for her. You grinned with satisfaction and your eyes closed for another brief moment as you soaked in the warmth of it.

Natasha helped you to sit up. She lingered awkwardly next to you on the sofa. You knew instinctively what she wanted to do. You lifted your top slightly and gave her a knowing smirk.

‘Love you.’ Natasha mumbled as she kissed your bump. Her cheeks reddened and she purposefully avoided your eye contact as she straightened up. Still, her hand reached out to help you as you moved to leave the sofa. 

When you stood up, you didn’t let go of Natasha's hand. You tapped her wrist twice and Natasha turned to face you automatically.

‘You can’t be shy about loving your daughter.’ You reminded Natasha quietly, trailing your fingers up and down her bare forearm. 

Natasha’s embarrassment flickered for a moment and then turned into something quieter. Her lips touched your neck as she brought you close to her. You felt her cheeks touch your skin as she started to smile widely.

‘I can’t believe I have a daughter.’ Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. 

You grinned suddenly, hearing the dawning realisation in Natasha’s voice that never went away.

‘I can’t believe I married such a MILF.’ You teased back, arms wrapping around her. Natasha’s head tilted and she left small kisses up the side of your neck.

Since your second trimester, Natasha could turn you on with a wink. You moaned loudly at the sensation of Natasha’s lips on your skin and you felt her smile again.

‘Ballet.’ You choked out, trying to stay focused. ‘Ballet, Birthday.’

‘Ballet.’ Natasha repeated and her lips met yours in a gentle kind of kiss. 

‘Birthday.’ She told you, before kissing you again. 

‘Baby.’ Natasha added and her hands touched your stomach again. Her eyes were bright with excitement and you felt her joy like it was your own. 

You leaned forward yourself now. Your cheek brushed hers as you moved next to her ear. ‘Boobs.’ You whispered, reaching up to squeeze them meaningfully. 

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. Her smile seemed permanent as her gaze trailed over you.

‘Bedtime.’ She promised and you tried to ignore the way heat pooled between your legs. It was going to be a long night of anticipation.

.

You watched Natasha far more than you watched the ballet dancers. Everything captivating in their performance was reflected in the focus of her attention. Her eyes were fixed on each dancer in turn as they made impossible moves seem effortless.

You found yourself coming out of a trance at the interval. Natasha turned to look at you and you watched her lips draw back into a smile. 

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She told you again and the thought of it made you smile. You tapped the top of your belly.

‘Maybe she’ll want to be one.’ You pondered playfully, reaching for the brochure resting in Natasha’s lap.

“What name should we pick?’ You considered thoughtfully as you began to suggest the names of various listed dancers.

Natasha’s hand on your thigh silenced you before you could finish half-seriously suggesting ‘Katarina.’

‘We can’t call her something Russian.’ Natasha informed you obviously. Her voice was light, but you could almost taste the sudden tension in the air.

You tilted your head questioningly.

“Why not?’ You challenged immediately. 

‘She’s not Russian.’ Natasha answered simply and you recognised the resoluteness in her eyes. You’d been together long enough to anticipate each other’s arguments. Still, you refused to give up.

‘Her mother is Russian.’ You emphasised pointedly. 

‘Not really. Not biologically.’ Natasha countered with a sudden softness. You hated that her tone had changed to appease you. 

‘I’m naming her Natasha Jr.” You decided stubbornly, rubbing wide circles over your belly in an attempt to calm yourself in the large theatre. ‘Good luck avoiding the child support payments.’

There was a pause as Natasha considered your expression. You refused to look at her, staring determinedly at the empty stage below you. If you focused on your anger for too long, you knew that you’d end up crying.

After a moment, Natasha’s head moved to rest on your shoulder. The moment settled immediately between you. You knew she was thanking you for loving her so certainly. You found her hand, still resting on your thigh and held it gently.

Those who’d left the theatre during the interval began to return slowly to their seats.

‘My mother was in the ballet.’ Natasha said quietly into the loud chatter that surrounded you. You fought the urge to turn your head. Instead, your arm moved instinctively around her shoulder, squeezing lightly in comfort. Natasha’s head tilted on your shoulder as she focused down at your bump.

‘I mean, I used to pretend she was.’ Natasha corrected herself. ‘I always wanted to go to the ballet, in case she’d recognise me in the crowd.’

You didn’t speak for a moment. Natasha had been too young, it was unbearable.

‘It’s hard.’ You began hoarsely, in the moments before the ballet resumed. ‘Things have been so unfair for you, but that’s made you exactly who you are.’

The tears began to catch up with your words.

‘And you’re going to be such a good mother.’ You choked out, feeling sadness like a tremble through your skin. 

Natasha didn’t say anything in return. She shifted in her seat slightly, moving almost imperceptibly closer to you. 

When the ballet finished and everyone around you moved to their feet, Natasha finally looked at you.

‘I love you.’ She reminded you quietly as she took your hand. You gave her a small smile.

“I know.’ You assured her, because you did.

.

You hadn’t known how to tell Natasha that you weren’t looking forward to Christmas. You’d entered your third trimester and begun to dread any days that called for increased stamina. 

More than anything, you’d found yourself desperate for the moments when it was just you and her. You were on the precipice of something new and you found yourself seeking comfort in the steadiness of what you’d already built with Natasha.

You should have known that you didn’t need to tell her. 

When you woke on Christmas Day, it wasn’t because of the alarm that you’d set the night before. Natasha was sitting up in the bed next to you, engrossed in a parenting book that you’d left wrapped under the tree the night before.

You hummed lowly in sleepy confusion, shifting in the bed as you tried to piece together the unexpected morning. You should have already been driving to see Clint’s family. Natasha looked down at you and everything about her smile was calming. Her hand brushed the top of your head and you felt assured that everything was going to plan.

‘Don’t worry.’ Natasha murmured and you couldn’t help yawning. ‘I only opened the one present.’

You nestled into Natasha’s side as you fell back asleep. Her hand stayed resting lazily on the top of your head. You loved all of Natasha’s warmth. 

You hadn’t bought any one big gift for Natasha this Christmas. You’d noticed in past years that, more than anything, she seemed to get a thrill just from the act of unwrapping. You had a feeling it was another way that she chased the American fantasy that she’d seen in movies.

Natasha’s giddiness on Christmas morning was your favourite thing. You watched her surreptitiously from the sofa as she opened each of your gifts in turn. You never took a photo of her though, the look in her eye seemed too precious to share.

Natasha was completely herself on Christmas morning. It was magical.

At last, she opened the present that you were most nervous for her to see. You held your breath as Natasha unwrapped the wide book eagerly. She stilled as she read the simple cover.

‘Becoming Mom.’

Natasha turned to the first page unsurely. She startled in surprise, just like you’d anticipated. She’d known that the photo inside had been taken, but she’d never looked at it herself. 

You’d offered your phone to the nurse during the sonogram. 

Natasha’s cheeks were tear stained in the picture and her hand was clasped loosely with your own. The other touched unthinkingly at her own waist, as if the baby on the screen might as well have been inside of her. 

Everything about her emanated a precarious kind of bliss.

Natasha closed the book suddenly and glanced back up at you.

‘The rest is for you to fill in.’ You mumbled unsurely, feeling a sudden need to avoid Natasha’s gaze. Natasha had never looked more vulnerable than in that photo. Everytime you looked at it, you loved her more fiercely than ever. 

Natasha didn’t love herself like you loved her. You weren’t sure what she was going to say. Her pause lasted an eternity.

Finally, Natasha’s choked voice cut through the silence.

‘I look like a Mom.” Natasha said quietly, and you decided that you’d never stop falling in love with her.

‘You are a Mom.’ You reminded her surely. Natasha’s hands moved to your stomach and suddenly you felt like time had lost all meaning. You felt like you’d always known her. Her touch felt more familiar than your own.

‘I love you.’ You told Natasha softly. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched upwards immediately. When she looked up at you, her eyes glittered. 

‘I know.’ She replied simply, and you knew that she did.

.

Before lunch, Natasha led you out into the backyard to show you your present. You were having Mac and Cheese for Christmas lunch, saying farewell to a food that was now steeped in different layers of nostalgia.

The air was crisp and immediately you were grateful for Natasha’s insistence that you wear a jacket. Natasha’s cheeks turned red as she stood to your left hand side in an attempt to buffer you from the icy wind.

When you turned the corner, you saw what Natasha had made for you.

The wooden swing and slide set stood perfectly in the corner of the backyard. You gripped Natasha’s hand tight at the warm rush of being loved entirely. Suddenly, the air didn’t feel cold at all. Tears threatened as you tried to process the emotion.

The swing was too big for your baby, it would be years until your daughter could play on any part of the structure. You didn’t care. It made everything better. Natasha had planned for years in the future.

‘I had one like this in Ohio.’ Natasha told you with a serenity that you didn’t expect to hear. Her eyes trailed over the swing set as she spoke. ‘I know it’s not quite right for now, but it was my favourite place in the whole world.’

‘Why?’ You asked timidly. You’d loved Natasha for years already. You realised you were in love with a sun that was still rising. 

Natasha started walking again. Her hand slid around your waist, slipping down to squeeze your ass once familiarly, before resting at your hip.

When you reached the swing, Natasha gestured for you to sit and you did. Your fingers tangled in the metal chain as you watched her face in anticipation. You knew that she’d heard your question.

‘Whenever I was swinging, I would close my eyes.’ Natasha started, and you knew she’d spent the silence planning out her answer in her head. ‘And when my eyes were closed, I could pretend that my parents had bought me the swing set. That people loved me, really loved me, because how else could I have something so nice?’

Her hand covered yours on the cold metal chain. Natasha stood next to your shoulder. You closed your eyes, imagining the impossible feeling that she’d described to you.

You gripped the chain heavily as you pulled yourself back to your feet.

‘I need to show you something.’ You told her as you led her back into the house. You walked quickly, feeling certain of what you were about to do but entirely unsure of Natasha’s response.

You picked up the baby book that had been left on the kitchen counter and handed it back to Natasha.

‘Look inside.’ You directed her with an encouraging gesture. Natasha’s eyes dropped down to the book. She turned the page again, this time moving past the one of her at the sonogram.

The next page had been specially embossed. You’d glued in the card that was presented there. Natasha gripped the book tightly as she read the subsection title.

‘Yelena, aged 0 - 1 month’

When Natasha looked back at you, she seemed uncertain. 

‘After her Mom’s sister.’ You said, feeling uneasy about her lack of response. Your fingers played with the edge of your jacket and you found yourself avoiding her eyes.

‘We don’t have to do it.’ You hedged carefully. ‘I just want her to have a piece of you that can’t be taken away.’

Natasha didn’t speak and you glanced back up. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar love in your wife’s eyes.

“And you won’t let me call her Natasha Jr.’ You added pointedly, with a sudden urge to lighten the mood.

The book snapped shut abruptly. Natasha moved towards you so suddenly that you didn’t have time to register her proximity before her lips were on yours.

Natasha filled your senses with a perfect familiarity. You loved the heat of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against you, the touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss. 

Natasha was home and you couldn’t feel lost anymore.

Sharp relief flooded you as you realised that your daughter was going to have the name that you’d been hoping for. 

The kiss broke at last and your hands moved to Natasha’s shoulders as you tried to look at her face. Natasha took a small step back, eyes still closed.

A wave of understanding rushed over you.

‘You don’t have to keep your eyes closed.’ You promised Natasha softly. ‘I’ll still love you when they’re open.’

Natasha’s lips twitched into a shy smile and slowly she opened her eyes.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha repeated as her hands trailed up your sides and gently lingered at the top of your bump.

‘We can save Natasha Jr for the next one.’ You teased again and Natasha smiled wide. 

Her hand pressed lightly on the back of your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.

[ivyasproperty]

Cuddle bug

natasha.r x fem!reader

summary — after returning from a long mission, all you want to do is just slip into the covers of your bed with a certain redhead.

warning(s) — none ><

word count : 412

A/N : it's quite short since i don't rlly know what to write, oops

men / minors dni!

You had just set foot into the compound after returning from what was the longest mission of your life. You swear that that mission had taken at least 9 hours worth of your precious time, when really it was just 2 hours.

You had planned on getting a small snack to eat once returning on the quinjet, but your legs had a mind of its own as it lead you to your room. But as you wait in the elevator, you don't think you mind the change, considering the fact that you'd be able to see your girlfriend. You didn't get a chance to say bye and give a farewell kiss since Steve dragged you out of the compound before you had a chance. And because of that, you ended up being moody the entire mission.

As soon as the elevator had reached your floor, you bolted out the opened metal doors and went right to your room. You slammed the door open, expecting to see a certain redhead, but no one was there. You looked around your room, but nothing had changed, meaning she hadn't been inside your room ever since she left. Sure Natasha was a trained assassin, but there would at least be a few traces if she was here, for example, the sweet smell of her vanilla perfume that you loved oh so much.

As you were taking off your combat boots, you were startled as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You didn't even have to look behind you to know who it was, already familiar with the way Natasha wraps her arms around you. You let out a loud sigh as Natasha let go of your waist and started massaging your shoulders, the tension already fading.

"How was your mission, malyshka?", you just replied with a hum, too tired to form words, all you wanted to do was just lay on top of your bed until the next day arrived. You dragged Natasha with you to your bed, laying down and signaling for her to do the same. She had no complaints and just got under the covers with you, spooning you from the back.

It was times like these that brought you the utmost joy, just being in Natasha's arms brought you happiness. You let your eyes fall shut, letting your muscles relax as you felt her breath hit your neck. You vaguely remember a fluttery feeling in your stomach before letting sleep consume you.

A/N : sorry for such a short one D: i didn't know how to continue with it so i just decided to end it like that, now that i look at it, it seems kinda rushed but whatever, hope you enjoyed it! xoxo

[ncis-nerd]

haunted house

about: you knew this was a bad idea but you did it anyways 🤷🏾‍♂️

ship: wandanat x reader

"Go on now!!" The group of sorority girls huffed, pushing you closer to the old, eerie house that had been abandoned for years. You had heard of a couple who lived in that house. Everyone suspected them of being witches.

The town assumed the couple were stealing streys for their witchy sacrifices and their last straw was the beloved town cat, milo, going missing. A little girl scout claimed she saw the red-headed owner pick up the cat and take her away. The people of the town burnt down the house with the couple still inside.

And now here you were, interrupting their peace. Your sorority sisters insisted if you spent the night in there, then you'd officially be one of them. No more nights of hazing and other cruel sorority pranks.

"You're not chicken, are you y/n?" one of the girls spoke. "No! no, i'm not, " you exclaimed, your eyes on the door knob covered in dust. "Then go in." the girl spewed.

You inched closer to the door, pushing it open slowly. A creeking sound filled your ears, you slowly began to walk in. The door slammed behind you.

You jumped, that wasn't funny. "g-guys??!! let me out!!" Your fists banged on the door as you heard the girls run away screaming.

You took a deep breath, they obviously had to be playing a trick on you right? They were just trying to scare you. They didn't want the hazing to end. you convinced yourself.

As time passed you grew bored. No phone signal, you decided to go exploring. You scan the room, your options lie in going the only creeky stairs or one of the many doors on the first level.

As you start to head for the stairs, you hear a cuckoo clock. Startled, you bump into two figures behind you. A scream exits your mouth.

"woah, woah.." a soft voice exclaimed from behind you. You turned around and to your surprise there was a tall brunette with blue eyes and a slightly shorter woman with blonde hair.

"not to be rude but what are you doing in our home, stranger?" the shorter woman questioned, with a raised eyebrow.

"y-your home?" you froze, was this the Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff?! aren't they dead?? Tou thought to yourself.

"Yes our home." The taller woman, you deemed to be Wanda spoke. "I thought no one lived here?" You mumbled. "Oh no, that's just a rumor, dear." Wanda responded.

a rumor

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didn't the town burn them alive?

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your sight goes black as you hit the ground.

part 2?

[makeitmakesomesense]

Eyes Closed

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 11: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 11th of January, which is 'prom'.

Fluff and gentle smut contained below.

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You were in bed. The darkness had crept into the room slowly, just like the silence. You turned on a light but it wasn’t enough for that kind of darkness. 

You thought about her. You tried not to worry.

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‘I know, I know.’ Natasha called out as soon as she entered the room. Your mouth dropped as you stared in shock at her appearance. Blood stains coated her face and suit. You could barely see her skin beneath. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed with a nonplussed expression on her face. 

‘I feel like Carrie at the prom.’ She yawned as she unzipped her blood-soaked suit to her waist, revealing her toned stomach and sports bra. 

Natasha reached up to her hair then, ready to undo the end of her usual braid. She groaned as she remembered her more intricate hairstyle made up of several smaller braids.

‘Here, love.’ You slipped off the bed and walked to her. ‘Let me help.’

Natasha tilted forward, her head pressing tiredly against your shoulder as you worked to undo each braid. You tried not to hesitate as you worked around the hair matted with even more blood.

When you were done, you resisted the instinct to kiss her.

‘This might be your most disgusting post-mission look.’ You said wrinkling your nose at the pervasive smell of the dried blood. 

Natasha gave you a sarcastic thumbs up as she headed to the ensuite bathroom.

‘Guess you won’t be joining me.’ She commented dryly as the shower began to run. 

‘It’s so hard to say no.’ You grinned, grabbing your phone and keys and heading out of the room. ‘I’ll bring you back sustenance.’ You promised as you left. 

You returned soon enough, a peanut butter jelly sandwich in one hand. You’d cut the crusts off. Natasha didn’t actually care about the crusts. That wasn’t why you did it. 

You knocked the door as you entered. Natasha was lying on her stomach, sprawled out on the bed, wrapped in a fluffy white robe that she’d stolen a million years ago from a fancy hotel. It was tied loosely, already half off one shoulder. You could tell she was naked underneath. Her long red hair was damp, combed through and already curling at the ends. 

She turned at the sound of the door. Her attention immediately fell to the plate in your hands. 

She made a happy noise, muffled by her pillow as she rolled over onto her back. She shuffled to a seated position in the bed.

‘Give.’ She demanded teasingly as you held out the plate. 

Natasha noticed the missing crusts. Her delight was easy to see. She covered her face and gave a laugh. 

‘I’m special.’ She teased.

‘Yep.’ You agreed simply and sat down next to her, your arm automatically snaking around her waist. 

Natasha leaned against you like you were her support pole. She chewed slowly on the sandwich, her eyes closed with the first bite and she nodded happily to herself.

‘Good?’ You checked teasingly. 

Wordlessly, she gave you another thumbs up.

When the sandwich was done, Natasha fell backwards onto the bed. With great effort she moved back to her starfish position across the centre of it. 

You felt yourself finally approaching the moment. The time for acknowledging what she was obviously avoiding. 

The energy had been too light since she got back. It had been a bad mission. 

‘I’m so tired.’ Natasha mumbled finally against her pillow. 

You crawled over to lie beside her. You brushed her damp hair away from her face.

‘What kind of tired?’ You prompted gently. Natasha’s eyes screwed tight against your gaze.

‘A lot of people died.’ She murmured at last. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

She opened her eyes again and met you with a heavy stare. You recognised the swirling regret and thought inexplicably about ocean waves crashing over rocks.

‘I should’ve-’ Her voice cracked. 

The rush of love was overwhelming and you leaned forward with the sudden, aching, urgent want to kiss her.

Natasha clung to your lips needily, her fingertips brushed your jaw. 

Her lips were cracked and the sensation brought you back to yourself. You cupped her cheek gently as you slowly encouraged Natasha back to a sitting position. 

‘You’re thirsty.’ You hummed out as Natasha’s lips continued to brush yours over and over again. 

Natasha’s eyes briefly squeezed shut again and then she nodded. 

You left the bed to retrieve her water bottle on the other side of the room. Natasha unscrewed the top and wordlessly drank it all.

Your stomach twisted as you watched her.

It could be a symptom, sometimes, of the bad missions. Not giving herself what she needed. Punishing herself for things that weren’t her fault. 

Natasha put the empty water bottle back on the nightstand. She turned back to you with the same hidden sadness in her eyes. Still, she gave you a small smile. 

You reached forward again with a surge of the same want. You left a trail of the softest kisses along on her neck. You could smell the familiar mix of her body wash and that scent that was only Natasha. 

Natasha hummed with pleasure. You felt her body rise and fall as her breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths. You tugged the white robe gently away from her shoulder, and then again, until you’d removed it all the way.

Natasha acquiesced readily to the direction of your touch. There was a relief almost in the way she was naked next to you. As if the pretence could leave her. 

She arched her back dramatically and you watched the muscles move and stretch. Then, she returned her body easily to its most comfortable bad posture. 

Natasha looked at you again and, this time, her gaze was easier and her smile was warm. 

A longing caught itself in your throat. 

Hesitantly, you touched the old scar that sat between her shoulders. Evidence of another mission survived, another risk taken.

You pressed a little harder and Natasha moaned in response to the pressure on the fatigued muscle just beneath the skin.

You adjusted yourself back on the bed, propping yourself up on your knees. You kissed the base of her neck as your thumbs began to rub concentric circles over her shoulder blades. 

Natasha murmured your name. Her back arched again in pleasure. 

‘You are brave.’ You told her, consumed with the constant need to take away her pain. 

You kissed her again, trailing a path down the curve of her spine.

‘You are strong.’ You murmured, your mouth grazing past another nameless scar. 

You felt the rise and fall of Natasha’s chest against your lips. The steady proof of her existence; all you could hope for.

‘You are trying your best.’

Your thumbs brushed lightly over the large, fresh bruise that sat under Natasha’s ribcage. Natasha stiffened.

You ran your hands soothingly back up to her shoulders and then around to cup her soft breasts.

‘And, you are always, always forgiven.’ 

You felt Natasha’s limbs loosen unthinkingly with your words and then, slowly, you felt her muscles tighten again with a different want. 

Natasha murmured your name again. And then again. You listened to the longing soaked into her voice. 

You squeezed her breasts slowly before moving around to stand in the space in front of her seated position on the bed.

You reached over and took a pillow from the bed. You held it to the back of Natasha’s head and gave her a teasing smile as you pressed her gently in encouragement to lie back. 

Natasha’s fingers caught the front of your shirt automatically as she let her torso go flat against the mattress. 

Her feet were still touching the ground. You watched her hip bones cant upwards towards the air in this new position.

You lost yourself briefly in the act of just looking down at her. At the softness and sharpness that made Natasha's body the only one that you craved. 

Natasha’s eyes were half-shuttered as she watched you too. Her smile was easy but you caught the swirling of a thousand emotions that sat beneath her stare.

It was enough for you to drop to your knees.

You spread her legs slowly and slid between them. The steady warmth of her was your favourite heat. 

Another anchor that promised you she was here. 

You stretched out your arms, letting your fingernails brush back and forth along her toned stomach. You didn’t waste any more time. 

Slowly you ran your flat tongue along her pussy. There was the familiar tang of her body wash  and the taste that could only be Natasha. 

Natasha groaned above you. You felt her stomach muscles tighten under your fingers and knew that she was already close. 

You moved on instinct, your eyes closed as you lost yourself in the sounds of her hums and sighs. The heat of her against your tongue spread through you. You let your tongue arc and flatten, finding the rhythms that caused her breathless moans. 

You felt her tensing. Felt the pleasure inside her become a desperate need. You used your hands to keep a steady pressure against the urgent movement of her hips. 

Natasha gave a strangled cry and in the midst of it you heard your name. You pressed again and again with your tongue. You felt her body wind itself tighter and tighter and then undo itself all at once. 

You tasted the dripping want and heard the soft pants of something achieved. 

You gave one last lick along her pussy. 

‘Good?’ You murmured, as you moved back to survey Natasha. 

Natasha didn’t move or speak. Slowly, as if with great effort, she gave you a silent thumbs up. 

You breathed a laugh, kissed her one more time and got to your feet.

You headed to the bathroom, grabbing a flannel and running it under the warm water. You returned and gently washed between her legs. 

Natasha’s eyes were fully shut now. 

You leaned forward and Natasha moaned in automatic pleasure at the sudden heat of your body against her bare one. 

‘Bed, love.’ You whispered, pulling the covers back and coaxing her gently. 

Natasha acquiesced and you watched her crawl beneath the warm covers. 

You left and got yourself ready for bed too. 

Just as you were about to slide under the covers, you heard the first snuffling noises of Natasha pressing herself comfortably into her pillow. 

A moment later, you clicked off the light on your nightstand.

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You turned to face her. Natasha’s face was framed by her own messy curls. You thought about her. About the sadness that you could always see unless her eyes were closed. You tried not to worry.

Natasha snored suddenly and the sound was another steady proof that she was here. You closed your eyes and finally slept. 

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[florencebirdsong]

Mmm being moved into the tower but Natasha keeping you a secret. It’s still the early days of the avengers but she wants to keep you close. The more awareness the public has of her the more she’s needs to protect you.

You love being able to see her all the time. Getting to hold her everyone night is a privilege you haven’t had before.

Wanda is aware of another mind on the highly restricted floor. She knows Natasha well enough to trust her judgement but eventually she asks to meet you. You project so much love and warmth that she can’t resist. It’s been missing from her life for so long.

Falling in love with you is easy from there. Natasha is reticent but Wanda has held her interest for a while now and having someone else as fiercely protective as her is a comfort.

You adore having your loves so close. You spend every night they aren’t on a mission curled between them. Walking to soft kisses and even softer words. It’s heaven. And it’s so easy to follow their rules. Maybe in another life they feel restrictive. But in this one you only feel safe and loved. You couldn’t wish for anything more.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Solnyshko - Natasha Romanoff x gn!Reader

A/N: I really really wanted to write a small thing for Natasha, so here we are. I set this in a 2012ish era, which is why the Avengers live at the Tower and such. I might do something more with this Reader and their powers in a future story as well.

Also, solnyshko means little sun in Russian. It’s the only potentially gendered language in the fic

Dividers by @/whimsicalrogers

CW: fluff, language, soft Natasha, Natasha speaks Russian, Reader is a former SHIELD agent, Reader has powers, failed missions, mentions of blood and injury, very very light angst, a forehead kiss, soft ending, probably ooc Natasha

640 words

“Hey, Nat,” you greet the red-haired Avenger with a sleepy smile. “Early morning, huh?”

“Good morning, solnyshko.” Natasha smiles back at you, handing you a cup of tea. “I should be saying that to you. You look like you’re still half-asleep.”

You laugh and rub the back of your neck, taking a sip of your drink. “I feel like it. I dunno how you can do early morning missions. I feel like shit.”

Natasha just smiles and pulls out a seat for you at the table.

You’re a former SHIELD agent. One of Barton’s old teammates. You’ve known Natasha since the day she joined.

Now you’re an unofficial member of the new team. The big team. You deal with the remnants of SHIELD for them and they help you train your powers.

You don’t have anything really special. No magic or anything. But your light powers come in handy for making illusions and you’ve been called in several times to help out with Loki when he comes to Earth. So all in all, you’re not complaining.

You take a seat at the table and enjoy the bits of morning you have. You’re leaving in an hour and you want to savor your last moments with the team.

Well, the members of the team who are up. Cap comes in before his morning run, but doesn’t stick around for long. Tony passes through briefly to grab a cup of coffee. The others, you know they won’t be up for another couple of hours at least.

So you enjoy your morning with Natasha. It’s been a while since you and her chatted, and you enjoy the conversation.

Eventually your time is up.

“Wish me luck,” you tell her with a wry smile.

She laughs and gives you a fond look. “You’ll do great. You’re our best, after all.”

You laugh at that and head on out.

Your return isn’t nearly as happy or cheerful.

The mission was a failure. Despite your best efforts, your target got the jump on you and shot you four times. You’d barely made the journey back, your wounds bleeding profusely.

By the time you’re sent to the medbay, you’re woozy with loss of blood. Your steps are sluggish and you lean against the wall for support.

There’s a voice calling your name. Then arms sliding under you, scooping you up.

There’s hair as red as blood brushing against your face. And then your eyes shut.

When you open them again, you’re in your room at the Tower. Your body aches like hell, but you can feel all your limbs.

You shift your arm, your muscles groaning in protest. Still, you force yourself up a bit, before a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“You gotta lie down.” It’s Natasha, looking rather tired and weary. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Fuck the doctor,” you mutter, trying to get up further.

Natasha gently pushes you back down. “Not the time, solnyshko.”

You don’t resist further. Instead, you sigh and stare up at the ceiling. “The mission failed.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We had bad intel.” She toys with the sleeve of your shirt. “Our inside man was a double agent.”

“Still. I could’ve done better.”

She gently flicks your forehead. “Don’t play that game. You did what you could. Getting shot like that would put anyone out of commission.”

You look at her. At her red-as-blood hair. “Even you?”

She smiles faintly. “Even me.”

It makes you feel a bit better and you nod. “Thanks.”

She leans in and kisses your forehead. “Always.”

A yawn overtakes you and you groan softly. Natasha laughs a little. “Go back to sleep. Your wounds need time to heal.”

You yawn again and nod, letting your eyes close. “Goodnight, Nat.”

Her fingers find yours and she gives your hand a light squeeze. “Goodnight, solnyshko. Sweet dreams.”

[wandasgf]

Okay but what about g!p Nat getting r pregnant at a one night stand. R actually being yelenas best friend who always said her sister is off limits and told nat her friends are off limits. Nat being a player. But like a happy ending

KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF mdni. 18+

pairings ; natasha romanoff + f ! reader (romantic), yelena belova + f ! reader (platonic), wanda maximoff + f ! reader (platonic)

summary ; you know you shouldn't, really you do, but there's just something about natasha that pulls you in and wraps an iron chain around your heart

warnings ; fade to black smut (i'm the worst, i know), natasha has a penis, unprotected sex, pregnancy, top ! natasha, bottom ! reader, tiny bit of angst, intoxication, morning sickness

wc ; 2.5k~

a/n ; i hope this is what you were looking for !! i got a liiiitle carried away with this i think. also this is not proofread ! (also, please do not use the term 'g!p', just say 'character with penis' please !)

“She is off limits, Natalia. I can see that look in your eyes, she’s too nice for you.”

“She is no good for you, Y/N. Don’t fall for her annoying charms.”

That is what Yelena had said to both of you, separately, of course, the first time you met her sister. For Natasha it was a thinly veiled threat and for you it was a warning– Natasha was no good, she would break your heart. 

That was about four years ago and while the two of you tried your best to respect Yelena’s wishes, you more so than Natasha, it was getting increasingly harder to deny the attraction you felt towards each other. You never wanted to cross Yelena’s boundaries, she was your best friend since you two were old enough to walk. A betrayal like that would shake your friendship in ways you didn’t want to think about. 

You understand that Yelena just wants the best for you, knowing of her sister’s habit of sleeping with girls only to leave them in the middle of the night and suddenly forget they exist, but there was just something that wouldn't stop tugging you towards Natasha. There was no denying her attractiveness, anyone with eyes could tell that the redhead was attractive, but it was the way she treated you that really had you weak in the knees. She was frustratingly charming and stupidly sweet. When Yelena was around to shoot daggers at her for her flirting, she claimed that she was just being friendly. 

“What’s wrong with being nice to a pretty girl, Lena?”

You two had shared more than a few tender moments alone, but nothing past a soft kiss and a quietly whispered ‘You know we can’t’ that always left Natasha wanting more of you. She knew you wanted to respect Yelena, she did, and she lov– liked you for how much you cared for her sister, but God, she wished you cared a little less. She wished you were a little more selfish, a little more willing to let her have you. 

Natasha doesn’t know when she developed actual feelings for you past physical attraction, and she’d rather not think about it, if she were being honest. It didn’t matter what she felt for you if she could never act on it, if it would make her feel rotten for acting on it, for crossing a boundary Yelena had set and you were trying your hardest to set yourself. So, she did what she’d been doing best for the past three years: slept with almost every girl that the only gay bar in Ohio had to offer. 

It’s not like the both of you hadn’t tried to move on, but nothing ever seemed to stick. None of the girls Natasha slept with made the burning hole in her chest ease its aching, and no one you ever tried to date could ever compare to Natasha. Even that pretty blonde pilot with the same type of dominating presence couldn’t tear your heart away from the Russian. You think you might have to try and erase Natasha from your memory, but even then you don’t think it would work. Your heart would still remember her. 

Too many drinks and Yelena’s birthday party is how you ended up here, in the one place you shouldn’t be. Natasha just looked so pretty tonight, even wearing something so simple as her usual leather jacket and black jeans, you finally just couldn’t contain yourself. You two are in the guest bedroom of Yelena’s apartment, Natasha’s hands gripping your waist as you grind against her lap, your hands tangled in her hair. 

This is the first time the two of you had gone past a soft kiss or a gentle hand brushing against each other. It’s been four years of torture, trying to deny each other of what you both wanted, and now that you have it, it doesn’t seem like either of you want to let go. Natasha had been a little shocked when you barged into the room she was occupying for the night, but who is she to deny you when you were all red cheeked and asking for her to please kiss you?

“Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs, breathless as she pulls away from your lips, her hands stilling your hips. God, she wants to keep going, but she could taste the liquor on your lips, and the last thing she wanted to do was let you do something you’d regret. You try to chase her lips, a pout making its way onto your features, but she holds you back. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Just looking at you, Tasha.” You grumble, trying to press your lips to hers again. 

“Hey, hey, come on. Listen to me for a minute, okay?” She reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear and brushes her thumb across your cheek. The touch feels like electricity shooting through your body and you wish she would just stop trying to talk to you. Does she not want you like you want her?

“You know, once we do this there’s no going back, Y/N. You have to be sure, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes. Please, Tasha, I want you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

And, well, who is Natasha to say no to that?

It isn’t until Natasha sneaks out of the room at 4am to get a drink and she’s confronted with Yelena in the kitchen that she realizes what she’s done. Yelena has never told her that anyone is off limits besides you, and she can’t even keep it in her pants for one night? (She knows it’s been four years, but you’ve only approached her like this the one time.)

She tries to act like nothing is different, like she’s just grabbing some water, but Yelena raises an eyebrow at the difference in the air around her sister. She’s not as stupid as the two of you seem to think she is, she’s noticed the downright disgusting tension between the two of you and the horrible lovey dovey eyes her sister makes towards you. 

“You break her heart and I break your ribs. Got it?”

Natasha chokes on her water, she would’ve thought she’d be a little more concerned for her heart, but this is fine, “Got it.”

And then Yelena is walking out of the kitchen to go to her own room. On her birthday? You two just had to do it on her birthday? Unbelievable. 

Since that night, you and Natasha had gone on a couple of dates and you’ve been trying to spend as much time with each other as possible. You hadn’t slept with each other since, it was hard to find the right opportunity while she was staying with Yelena for the next month while her house was being renovated and your roommate Wanda always seemed to be at your apartment lately. 

About a week later you woke up feeling like something was off. You didn’t know what it was until your body was moving on its own accord and you found yourself rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. God, you hoped you weren’t getting sick. As you sat with your back leaning against the cool glass of the shower, you closed your eyes for a second before it hit you. 

Natasha didn’t wear a condom. 

Oh God, Natasha didn’t wear a condom. You scramble to get yourself up and brush your teeth before rushing out of the bathroom and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and an old college sweater of Natasha’s that she left a couple of nights ago. What time is it? You pat your pockets and then fish out your phone, 7:56am. Okay, the pharmacy should be open by the time you get there. 

This is fine, it’s probably nothing. You’re probably just sick, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten as much candy as you did, but Natasha was so happy to get you something you liked and you were really craving it. You tug on your shoes and you’re out the door and walking down the street in less than two minutes. 

The walk to the pharmacy is relatively short, you chose an apartment in the city, so nothing is more than a 15 minute walk. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you pick out one of the many options and you walk to the checkouts, but not before grabbing a chocolate bar. You’ve been really wanting one for days now, but that has nothing to do with this, you just like chocolate, that’s all. You groan, what are you even trying to do right now? Convince your subconscious that you’re not pregnant?

The walk back to your apartment seems like it takes forever and you don’t even need to drink a bunch of water because your nerves are making you feel like you’re going to piss your pants anyway. 

Wanda chooses the exact moment you start pacing in the bathroom to come out of her room, concealing a yawn behind her hand. “Y/N, why are you doing laps in the bathroom? If there’s a bug somewhere just kill it.”

“No, I’m not– there’s not a bug, Wands. I’m just…” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your, well, Natasha’s sweatshirt, “I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause. 

“You think what?!”

“Don’t say that like that! It’s not a bad thing I think. I just– I just don’t know how Natasha will react.” You wrap your arms around yourself and deflate a little bit, just the idea of Natasha being upset has you acting like a kicked puppy.

Wanda softens and walks towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug, “I’m sure Natasha will react just fine. And if she doesn’t then that’s her problem, not yours.” You lean into her and let yourself relax for a minute. You hadn’t known Wanda for as long as Yelena, you only met in your freshman year of college, but you consider her one of your best friends. 

“Y/N… I think you should take a look.” Wanda had taken a quick peek at the test over your shoulder, and she squeezes you softly before pulling away. 

You turn around and try your hardest not to feel too scared. Either outcome is fine, right? 

Two lines. 

You were pregnant.

Tears start to prick at your eyes and you’re not sure why, but you find yourself turning and hiding yourself in Wanda’s arms, not able to stop yourself from crying. You only just started properly seeing Natasha, what if she hates you? What if she never wants to see you again? What if–

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. She won’t hate you.”

Wanda’s soothing voice reaches your ears and you realize you must have been saying those things out loud. You nod against her chest and sniffle, trying to get yourself to stop crying. You had to tell Natasha, you have to get yourself ready and make yourself look presentable. 

Wanda helps you get ready, telling you soothing things every once in a while when you start to worry again, trying to reassure you that Natasha isn’t going to hate you. And, if anything, this is Natasha’s fault anyway, but she doesn’t say that part. She drives you to Yelena’s apartment where Natasha is staying for the time being and gives you a reassuring smile, saying she’ll be waiting right outside if you need her. But if you don’t come out in 15 minutes she’s leaving because she has to go open the bookstore for Darcy. 

You give her a weak nod and walk the now intimidating path up to Yelena’s apartment. You stand outside for a whole two minutes before getting the courage to knock. You knew Yelena wasn’t home and that it would be Natasha to answer the door. The blonde went to kickboxing every Saturday morning and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. 

Natasha is a little surprised to see you standing outside her door at 8:30 in the morning, but then she takes in your slightly red eyes and still tear stained cheeks and she’s ushering you inside with an arm around your waist and a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you hurt? What happened? Do you need me to call Yelena? What’s going on?” The words tumble from Natasha’s lips before she can stop them, the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe overpowering anything else she might have wanted to say. Like how cute you look in her sweater. 

You shake your head and suddenly there are tears in your eyes again and your bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, p–please don’t call Yelena. I just– I need to talk to you.” You’re trying not to cry again, but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know how to break the news in a way that won’t destroy the only thing you’ve wanted for the last four years. 

The concern in Natasha’s eyes isn’t making this any easier as she takes you over to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and taking your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Alright, we can talk. You can talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

“I-I…” Your fingers twitch nervously in her hands, “Natasha, I’m pregnant.” And the confession ruins any chance you had of stopping yourself from crying, afraid she’s going to push you away or yell at you or tell you to get out or–

Natasha’s eyes widen and her breathing stops for a moment, you���re pregnant? But you hadn’t slept together since– Oh. Oh. 

And then she snaps back to the present where you’re crying and she’s frozen like an idiot. And she’s gotta do something before you come to the wrong conclusion. This should be fine, though, right? She loves you, she can do this. She can do this, can’t she?

 “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” She speaks softly, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with her thumbs. She takes one look at your face and now she’s trying to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah, baby? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.” She brings your head towards her chest and wraps one arm around you while the other strokes your hair. You’re crying harder now, but you think maybe they might be relieved tears, happy ones, even? 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, she can do this.

[scarfacemarston]

hi! could you do something to do with natasha’s protectiveness?? :)

For Female readers because this was originally part of WLW week! Here ya go! Hope you like it. Please like and reblog if you'd like!

She was reluctant to get into a relationship with you partially because she was worried she wasn't good enough for you but also horrified of anything happening to you. The idea of more red being added to her ledger, and it's you? It gives her nightmares.

She tries to respect your space and privacy, but it's incredibly difficult for her. One, she never had any space or privacy, and two, invading people's privacy and space is her job and has been for decades.

However, she will occasionally check on you from a distance when you're at work or running errands if she feels there is an actual threat. It makes her feel guilty, but she justifies it by considering your safety. 

She always wants you to text her when you've come home if she's not there.

Natasha insists on giving you self-defense lessons, even if you feel like you can't be athletic enough. It doesn't matter if it's light martial arts, gun shooting training, or even throwing an object the right way to knock someone out; she needs you to learn something.

Leaving you is a struggle for Natasha, but her job remains vital to her identity. Despite her love for you, she can't abandon her responsibilities. In her absence, she relies on others like Yelena or Steve to ensure your safety. Lots of hidden weapons and supplies are around your place, hidden in places you didn't even know about! 

You've never had to go on the run before, and it's unlikely to ever happen. Natasha would much rather use herself as bait than let that happen and disappear for a while, but she has sat you down and warned you that since you're in a relationship with her, it's not out of the question. 

It's hard to be separated from her, especially on long missions with no contact, but she'll find a way to surprise you whether it's a delivery of your favorite donuts at your work place, your favorite flowers delivered to you, or even a postcard from your "roommate from college". (Regardless of if you went to college or not.)

Sometimes, you get a kick out of what disguises she'll appear to you in or what vehicle she'll show up with.

[thelovelylolly]

Hey can you make a fic where r is tony daughter and dating natasha

Morgan is a newborn wich brings out their parental side while babysitting morgan the entire team kinda surprised not used to this behaviour and natasha just goes 'yeah i'm definitely making her my wife'

Parental Side

Summary : While babysitting your new little sister with the rest of the team, your parental traits come out and Nat decides right then and there that she wants to marry you. Warnings : fem! reader (but thats it) Notes : this request is so cute, i love it! thank you for requesting it :) i did make it so pepper is the reader's step-mom and the blip didnt happen so i hope you dont mind that!

The moment you met your little sister, you fell in love with her. You were a bit hesitant when you found out your dad and step-mom were having a kid since you were a grown adult, but all of that went away the moment you saw Morgan. She was the cutest little thing and a little ball of sunshine in your family's life.

One day, you offered to babysit Morgan to let your mom and dad have a break. You brought Morgan to the compound so you could still get some work done, but you also knew the team loved her, too.

As soon as you walked through the door with Morgan in your arms, you were swarmed by your team members. You handed Morgan off to Rhodey, since he was the one you trusted most with your little sister, before going to the living room area to set up her things.

You placed a blanket down along with her toys, making sure to move anything dangerous out of the way so Morgan couldn't grab anything.

"I'm surprised Tony would let Morgan out of his sight."

You turned around and saw your girlfriend, Natasha, standing there with her arms crossed and a smile on her face.

"Me, too. I promised him I'd only let certain people hold her, I'd only feed her the things he packed, all that stuff. I'm also very protective of her, so dad knows I'd never let anything happen to her," you replied as you finished setting up Morgan's little area.

You stood up, smiling at Natasha.

"You're cute, you know that?" Nat said, pulling you in by the waist.

You laughed. "You remind me everyday, Nat."

"It's because it's true," she replied before giving you a quick kiss.

You heard Rhodey and the others approach you two so you pulled away. You instantly reached for Morgan, who babbled as she reached for you. Rhodey handed her to you and you sat on the ground with her in your lap.

The others sat around you and watched as you played with Morgan. You could feel their eyes on you and you had the urge to yell at them to go back to work, but you didn't care. You just wanted to play with Morgan.

"I'm surprised," Sam said quietly while standing next to Nat.

"Surprised at what?"

"I've never seen her so...parental. I mean, she's one of the younger team members so she's never had to be parental. Tony, Rhodey and Steve usually have to parent her," Sam explained. He turned to Nat, who's eyes were locked on you. "Why aren't you surprised?"

"Well, after she was born, Tony became extremely protective and parental. Beforehand, he was-"

"A playboy?"

"Yes," Nat answered with a laugh. "Maybe she gets it from her dad. Maybe her parental side only comes out when it's her own baby sister."

Sam looked between you and Nat, a smirk forming on his face. "What are you thinking, Nat?"

"Oh, nothing. Just how I wanna marry her."

Sam patted Nat on the shoulder. "You're going to give Tony a heart attack."

"That's the plan."

You looked up at Nat, a big smile on your face. Morgan was happily blabbering as she played with her little toys. Nat blushed and smiled back.

You were the woman that Nat wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She loved you and seeing you with Morgan just made her want to marry you more.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Reunited

Summary:  After being deployed for 8 months, you return home to surprise your family.

Warning: Alternative Universe - No modern setting, fluff and angst, reader is the military and Natasha is a military wife, mention of violence/death, no usage of Y/n 

Word count: 2.3k 

‘The girls made sure to pick out loads of snacks for you and the crew. So make sure you share. There is something for your eyes only so please keep that to yourself. I countdown the days until you are home. All my love.’ You smiled as you reread the letter from your wife two more times. For the past 5 months, you survived on these letters and short phone calls from your family back home. You loved serving your country, it was the greatest honor but a wife and two kids at home made it harder to leave. “Is that from the misses?” Clint asked. You took the other envelope out before he took the box from you.

“Of course it is,” Maria said, joining Clint as he dug through the box. She chose a small can of Pringles. “Look at that smile.” You rolled your eyes, used to the teasing from them.

“Is this for us to share?’ Bucky asked, walking up behind you and grabbing the envelope in your hand.

“Hands to yourself, Barnes,” you said, placing the envelope in your pants pocket for later. “We all can’t be lucky enough to serve with our partner.”

“Ain’t lucky for us,” Maria mumbled, throwing a package of nerds to you. “Especially when you walk in on them.” Bucky’s ears turned pink but he shrugged his shoulders. He took a bag of trail mix. This was one of the reasons you hated the thought of retiring. You found a family amongst the men and women you served with. You were part of an elite group of soldiers that the US government sent in for Black Op missions. Under the command of Nick Fury, the team consisted of you, Maria Hill, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers. They were your brothers and sister but you could not wait to be home.

*

‘Everyone loved the snacks you picked out for them. I’m pretty sure they ate more of them than me. I told a local jewelry maker about you and the girls and how much you mean to me. So she made me three moon necklaces and a sun for me. She said it symbolizes that even though we aren’t together physically I’m always with you and you are with me. Similar to how the moon and sun can’t exist without each other, I’m not me without you. I can’t wait to be home with my girls. All my love.’ Natasha finished your letter. She wanted to reread it but Rose and Hailey were excitedly waiting for her to put the necklaces on. So she did. Once the clasp was in place, they kissed her on the cheek and ran outside to join the other kids. It was a spring day and the Romanoff house was filled with people, food, and laughter. Natasha sighed, stood up, and walked into the kitchen. Laura was there, cutting up a watermelon. “How was the letter?” She asked.

“It was nice hearing from her,” she held up her necklace. “Mind putting this on for me?” Laura nodded, taking the necklace and looking over the charm.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, placing it around Natasha’s neck. Laugher pulled the two mothers to look out of the kitchen window and out into the backyard. They watched as Cooper picked up Rose from behind and threw her into the pool. It was moments like this that Natasha wished you were home to witness them in person and not as a video or photo. Natasha would always support you and she knew you were doing great things but she missed you. Each deployment never got any easier. Laura sighed, putting the freshly cut watermelon into a bowl.

“It never gets easier, does it?” Natasha asked, looking at her friend.

“No,” Laura whispered. “I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

*

The party was over and the house was quiet. When it was quiet, it was hard for Natasha to mask how much she missed you and your absence affected her. She sat in bed with a photo album in her lap. She seemed to get sentimental whenever you sent a letter. Natasha worked at a gym as a personal trainer and Clint, who was a mutual friend, recommended you to try it out. As the story goes and a fact you liked to remind Natasha, she hated you. She thought you were cocky, arrogant, and annoying. But you were persistent and determined to break down Natasha’s walls. It worked and she was grateful you were patient and understanding. She grew up in the foster care system, bouncing between homes. Now she had everything she dreamt of as a kid; a wife that loved her, beautiful girls, and a house filled with love.

The bedroom door slowly opened and saw Rose and Hailey holding onto their stuffed animals. “What’s wrong, printsessy (princesses)?” Natasha asked, noticing their blotchy cheeks from their tears.

“We miss Mom,” Rose whispered. “Can we sleep in here?” Natasha smiled, placing the photo album on the nightstand.

“Come here,” she held open her arms as the twins climbed onto the bed and settled in on either side of her. Now that they were closer, Natasha saw it was the Build-A-Bears you got for them with a recorded message for their birthday.

“When will she be home?” Rose asked.

“Soon, moya lyubov' (my love),” Natasha kissed her head. The real answer was 4 more months.

“Do you think she’ll bring us another gift?” Hailey asked. It made Rose laugh so Natasha let the comment slide.

“I bet she will. Now let’s get some sleep.” The girls climbed underneath the covers and cuddled up against Natasha. “I love you, my sweets.”

“Love you too, mama.”

*

“Thank you for picking me up,” you said to Wanda. “I wanted to surprise Nat.”

“It’s no problem,” she smiled. “I almost had a heart attack when your name popped up on my phone.” You chuckled. You were home 2 months early. Usually, Natasha would be waiting for you at the airport with the girls and the signs they made. Instead, you called Wanda, your next-door neighbor. She and her husband, Vision, had twins of their own. Vision was in the military as well but was stationed locally in the cyber division. “Do you want me to record it?” Wanda asked. “I do love those military reunion videos on YouTube. They make me cry every time.

“That would be great,” you cried watching those videos as well. But right now you were focused on not throwing up all over Wanda’s car. Your leg was bouncing, you were so nervous.

“Hey,” Wanda said, pulling down the familiar neighborhood street. “It’s okay. She and the girls missed you.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You admitted.

“Well don’t do that,” she deadpanned. “I just got the car detailed.” Her joke caused a momentary break in your anxiety and you laughed.

“Thank you for that,” you said as she parked the car in the driveway. You looked at your home. The driveway was covered in artwork from the girls and the plants had newly planted plants, that you knew Melina helped Natasha. Your wife did not have a green thumb. You got out of the car with your duffle bag over your shoulder. Wanda was right behind you as you rang the doorbell. You shifted on the balls of your feet as you waited. You’ve been pinned down by enemy fire, watched a van blow up right next to you, and had to administer first aid to save a falling soldier. But as you waited for the door to open, you were so nervous, terrified. Finally, the door opened and there she was, dressed in her typical workout outfit - black leggings and an oversized graphic T-shirt. Her red hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. “Hi,” you whispered.

*

Natasha had to be dreaming, right? There were 2 more months left of your deployment so why were you standing in front of her? With no sign of injury and wearing your off-duty uniform. You were here. You smiled, chuckling. “I haven’t seen you this shell-shocked since the day I asked you to marry me.” You teased her. Your small jab pulled her out of her trance. She dropped her pre-work bottle to the ground and ran over to you. You dropped your duffle bag to the ground and caught her in your arms. The force made you stumble slightly but you stayed on your feet. “Your home,” she mumbled against your neck. Her voice shook with emotion.

“I’m home, baby,” you said. “I’m home.”

*

“Rose and Hailey Romanoff,” the camp counselor called into the small gym. “Your mom is here to pick you up.” Her name made Hailey look towards the door and the small pause got her out of the small dodgeball game.

“You're out Romanoff!” Eric called out.

“That doesn’t even count,” Hailey said, walking over to the sideline where Rose was sitting. “I was distracted.” Rose giggled.

“You're so competitive for no reason,” she teased her sister. Hailey rolled her eyes. “Do you think we have a doctor’s appointment?” Hailey shook her head as the followed the counselor out of the gym and down the hallway of the school.

“Mom is usually good at reminding us. Maybe babushka (grandma) and dedushka (grandpa) came for a surprise visit.” Hailey loved her grandparents especially when she convinced Alexei to wrestle with her. Rose smiled.

“Or maybe Auntie Yelena came with Fanny and Lucky.”

“What about Aunt Kate or do you like Lucky more than her?” Hailey joked, watching her sister blush.

“You know that’s not-” The words died on her lips as they rounded the corner.

“What’s wrong?” Hailey looked away from her sister to the normal check-in and check-out area, expecting to see Natasha but no. She saw you.

“Mom!” They cried out, breaking out into a full sprint towards you. You knelt as they collided with you.

*

‘My girls,’ you thought as you hugged them. They looked so much like Natasha, fiery red hair and Rose had your eye color. Their heart was beating so fast, mimicking the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. You felt their tears on your neck. You looked over their shoulders and saw Natasha, tears in her green eyes. But she refused to let them fall. “What are you doing here?” Rose asked.

“Finished the mission early,” you said, pushing tears off her face.

“Did-did you beat the bad guys?” Hailey asked, refusing to get out of your arms. You didn’t mind, you’d hold them forever.

“Of course, I did, sweetheart,” you kissed her head. “Come on, let's go home.” You groaned as Hailey still refused to let go.

“Actually,” she said. “Can we get ice cream?”

*

“Are you watching the videos again?” You looked away from your phone and saw Natasha stepping out of the bathroom, wearing an old training shirt of yours and sleeping shorts. You placed your phone on the nightstand.

“You know if we post those videos with sad music,” you sat at the edge of your bed, parting your legs so Natasha could stand between them. “We could go viral.”

“Oh really?” She questioned. You hummed, kissing her stomach through the cotton shirt, and rested your hands on the back of her thighs. Natasha used her pointer finger underneath your chin and forced you to look up at her. She traced the slope of your nose and the bags underneath your eyes.

“Were you telling Hailey the truth when you said you stopped the bad guys?” You grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.

“We did,” you whispered. You never spoke about what you did overseas. Some of the missions were classified and you didn’t want to haunt the dreams of your family. “But some civilians didn’t make it.” She nodded, kissing your forehead and leaving her lips there. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her lips. “How long do we have until the girls come in?” She smirked.

“Not long enough so get your mind out of the gutter,” you pouted as she turned off the main light and you got into bed. “They’ll be at camp tomorrow and I’ll be all yours.” She said, settling in next to you and resting her head on your chest. You tightly wrapped your arms around her.

“I’ve missed this,” you whispered, taking a deep breath in her vanilla lotion. You felt her tears stain your shirt but you didn’t draw attention to them. You let her cry until you heard her quiet sniffles. It was your turn to lift her chin with your finger. “Do you want me to retire?” You asked. Her green eyes widened, a little red from her tears.

“You're too good at what you do,” she whispered. She was right in a way. You were an excellent marksman, hostage negotiator, and interrogator. But someone could replace you. Fury always had soldiers in mind to join the team. “You’ve saved so many people.”

“But I’m missing so much here,” you said against her lips. “I would need to do one more and I can be done with full benefits.”

“Okay,” she said, fully connecting your lips. You loved kissing Natasha. Her lips were soft and warm against yours.

“Okay,” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

*

When you woke up, Rose and Hailey were cuddled between you and Natasha. They were holding the Build-A-Bear stuffed animals you got them. You smiled, kissing both of their foreheads. Serving this country wasn’t worth missing. Your girls were your world. You needed to be home not across the sea in another country. “Mommy,” Rose mumbled.

“What’s up, baby?” She turned around to face you. Her eyes were barely open.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” she said, cuddling up against you. You closed your eyes, feeling tears swell.

“I know. One more,” you promised. “One more then I’m done.”  

[unholyhelbig]

I have a whump prompt I found on pintrest: "Baths were used as a form of torture against reader. They were forced to sit in icy water for hours on end or they were repeatedly held under until they blacked out. When they get rescued, and then are given a bath, they freak out and try to stay away from the water."

Title: Brackish | [read part two]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3280

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, ice baths, abuse, starvation, drowning, panic attacks, imprisonment, vomiting, blackouts, Canon-typical violence, horrible grammar. I stuck with the request, please respect your triggers!!!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: God damn, I haven't written about Romanoff in so long, it truly does feel so good to write about her again and it seems like Tumblr is seriously lacking in fics lately! I miss my bby girl!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Natasha Romanoff’s eyes were something cold and calculated that reminded you too much of the cell that the unnamed agency had pulled you from twenty-four hours before. They’d seated her across from you in the darkened room, the cold metal chair digging into your spine uncomfortably, but comparatively comfortable compared to the floor you’d slept on for an indiscernible amount of time.

She regarded you with discontent, an icy type of green that you were sure would give way to a critical glare in a matter of moments. Still, you didn’t waver. Something she wasn’t used to. They’d sent her in after the overly-muscled-man with a soft blue stare and another one with a goatee from the early 2000’s and an attitude that matched.

You hadn’t broken for either of them. It was the classic good cop, annoying cop routine. Natasha Romanoff was clearly the bad cop. They hadn’t pulled her at first and you knew it was because of where they had pulled you from. A facility that was filled with nothing but bad cops. Worse than bad cops. Cops that had dissected you, pulled out all of your organs and stitched you back up incorrectly just for the hell of it.

“Do you speak?”

Natahsa’s own voice was raspy from disuse. She’d given up on the silent game now that it had been over an hour. Her manicured fingers had fallen onto the metal table and left rings of warmth on the surface. You watched as the disappeared.

She reached across the length of the table, movements assured. You tracked her with your stare but still flinched when she placed her warm fingers under her chin and lifted it, eyebrows furrowing. “There’s a scar over your larynx. Did they cut deep enough?”

You leveled her with a glare of your own and wrenched away from her touch. Yes, you could talk. They’d spared your vocal chords. You just didn’t want to speak with her. With any of them, for that matter. They’d taken you from one cage and thrown you right into another. Even if this one had heating and a plush bed it was a cage all the same.

A huff left you, instead. You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back in your seat, lifting a sculpted eyebrow. If you looked hard enough you swore that there was the slightest curve of a smile on Natasha’s lips. You wondered if they were interrogating the others that they pulled from the wreckage of the Hydra base, or if they only had eyes on you. If she only had eyes on you.

“Family, then?” She tapped her fingers impatiently. “Anyone we can notify?”

You tilted your head to the side, keeping your expression neutral. Though the subject matter was a sore spot, something raw like sunburn after a long day at the beach, it was something that your brain had forced itself to forget for your own good. Her tactics were useless.

Truthfully, you could feel exhaustion tugging at the back of your eyes. It would be easy to give up now, to slump forward and lay your head on the cool exterior of the table. Would it be so bad to give up to an agency such as this one?

When muscle-man was in here earlier, you could smell the sweetness of coffee on his breath. It was laced with hazelnut, and it was oh so different than the sour stench of alcohol that often joined the spit that coated your face when Hydra agents swished saliva around their mouths and flung the viscus at you.

Goatee was well groomed and slicked his hair back with a beautifully scented hair gel that carried an evergreen odor. It was the closest you had gotten to the outdoors in decades. You had nearly folded then, for the simple fact that you wanted to close your eyes and imagine what it would feel like to brush the tips of your fingers against the sappy needles.

Agent Romanoff flicked her gaze past your unmoving form to the reflective glass behind you. A two-way mirror, you knew. They’d been watching you for ticks this entire time, some indication that you would break and then shatter so they could pick you back up in your moment of need. They were talking to her through an earpiece that was miniscule enough that you couldn’t see it. Impressive.

“Okay,” She leaned back in her own chair, defensive demeanor seeming to soften in the slightest. Her jaw unclenched and her eyebrows unfurrow. There was a beauty to her that was unassuming even in the blaring lights above. This time her voice was lower. “Alright. Well, if you’re going to be stubborn, we might as well clean you up, get some food in you. We can’t have you rotting away in an interrogation room, can we?”

No- you supposed they couldn’t. Hydra would do the exact opposite. They’d haul you into a cell that was soaked with the scent of urine and cold and desolate and scattered with the blood of others. Already, this was an improvement.

You wouldn’t let them know that. You wouldn’t let Agent Romanoff know that.

There were cuffs around your wrists, bound tightly, but not uncomfortably. The metal was heavy, and your arms hung at your front. You allowed yourself to be hauled to your feet with dizzying deftness. Unsteady, nauseous. Natasha smelled nice and clean, and her body was warm just from its proximity to you. Base instincts told you to flinch away. Baser instincts told you to crash into her. You fought both valiantly and allowed her to lead you into a plain looking hallway.

Neither of you spoke and you were thankful for Agent Romanoff letting you set the pace. It was hard to walk. Whitehall would bark out orders and you were often hauled to your feet, dragged with a quickness that would give you no choice but to fight until layers of tissue ripped from your fingers as you fought. And fight you did. Teeth and nails until everything was raw and bloodied.

Now that you were alone, mostly alone, away from the prying eyes of the men behind the two-way glass, you relaxed your shoulders and felt the breath in your lungs leave with a little less tension. Unlabeled rooms were on either sides of the corridor, yellowed light spilling from select ones, your stare tracing the golden color.

Eventually, Natasha stopped at one that looked like all the others. She used a keycard on her belt until a magnetic click sounded. When she pushed it open it reveled something of a hotel room. Windowless, but cozy: a queen-sized bed, a television with a screensaver of a beach with flowing water, a desk and a closet, a bathroom that was larger than the cell Hydra had kept you in for an indefinite amount of time.

 It was a hell of a prison, but the door locking with a mechanical click reminded you that it was a prison all the same, your gaze hardening against the outline of the entrance at the noise. Agent Romanoff watched you carefully. Tenderly. It squeezed at your chest.

“I’m going to take these off now.”

Natasha edged her fingers against the cuffs, pressing the right combinations that released them. Instinctively, you rubbed your hands against the raw skin. They weren’t too tight. Just phantoms of the metal and the freedom that you were craving.  She tossed them on the bed with little regard.

You tracked her as she walked into the bathroom, flicked on the lights. “I’m sure you want some privacy right now. I’ll stay in the room but you have to crack the door. Standard precautions and all that. I’m sure you understand. We can’t leave you alone just yet.”

Natasha turned to you, green eyes still filled with a tepid worry. “Bathtub is just through there, already run. Towels and a fresh set of clothes are set out.”

Your fingers tightened around your stomach with fervor. It was an involuntary motion. The fabric that was stained and crusted in your own blood and sweat crinkled under the motion. It would be noticeable to a blind man and it was certainly noticeable to a trained agent. You must have paled. Must have shown some form of trembling panic. Your façade had cracked in the slightest form that piqued Natasha’s interest.

“I can sit with you, if you’d like.” Natasha sounded out.

No, no, no. That would make it worse. She could easily put her hands on your shoulders and dunk you under the water. The second you let your guard down, nothing was stopping her from holding you against the basin until you lost consciousness.

“Bathtub,” The whimper left you. The first word that you’d said since being taken from the Hydra compound. More of a whispered plea than anything. Your nails were digging so heavy into your ribs that they were drawing blood, such a small pinprick.

“Can’t”

Another punctuated word. Your throat was closing. It felt like it was closing, skin cold. They would use bags upon bags of ice in a metal tub. Whitehall claimed the practice taught patience. That sitting until your lips were blue and your skin was numb kept you vigilant. Unfeeling. Trained well and good.

When you did something against his diligent conditioning, he’d shove you under. Wait until the shock of cold made you black out, steal the air from your lungs and make you choke on the icy cold before pulling you back up and forcing you to sit in your own trembling mess for hours on end, just to start the process all over again. Hours morphing into days.

“Bathtub”

You were clawing at your throat now, trying to force air into it, like your nails would slash into the soft skin of your throat and allow the breath to flow freely. You were cold everywhere, nearly numb in the extremities. The stinging had moved from your sides to your collarbone. You were scratching at yourself. Had to make sure you were real, not submerged. Not drowning.

Agent Romanoff, at some point, had moved closer to you. That clean scent pulled into your lungs frantically. You were breathing, you knew logically that you were. Her warm hands gripped yours and pulled them away from your chest as she pressed your back to the coolness of the wall.

“Hey… Easy, easy”

Your arms were crossed over your chest, Natasha applying pressure to the center of the ‘x’ she had formed naturally. She pressed her whole body close to yours. Warmth. Security. The exact opposite of the ice bath that Whitehall would constantly dunk you into.

Tears streaked down your face, small cries escaping you as you let your head drop back against the wall. Natasha held you steady. Her eyes search your expression. She applies just the right amount of weight to you to help you breathe. You sniff hard. Swallow harder.

Soon it’s just the sound of your breath mingling with hers, of the air pumping into the room through the vent in the corner. You’re thankful that the room is fortified for sound. Much unlike the cells at the Hydra compound. Suddenly, and not for the first time today, you’re thankful for a lot of differences between the place you’d been pulled from the and place you’d been pushed into.

“Don’t suppose you have a room with a shower,” You huffed out.

Agent Romanoff scoffed, let her head fall just above your shoulder with a thump. “Yeah. I think I can figure something out.”

‘Figuring something out’ to Natasha meant taking you from the generic room on the basement level of the Avengers tower and moving you without consequence up to what you assumed was her floor. Something of a penthouse that overlooked the city.

A blanket of stars that rivaled the real nighttime sky. It was dizzying to you. You didn’t want to linger on the gesture for too long. She was being kind and had brought you down from a panic attack with the swiftness of a trained hero. You were sure that they made her take a course in that.

It was decorated smartly and smelled of vanilla. The elevator opened directly into her living area, large and stretching and chrome in a way that was not too garish. Agent Romanoff did not seem guarded about allowing you into her home. This was her home.

She removed her earpiece and set it on the table by the elevator as if it were car keys and not her lifeline to the man with the goatee and the muscle-man. There was an ease to her shoulders that showed she trusted you. Or at the very least, that she could take you.

You followed her like a lost puppy, taking stock of the modern art on the walls as she led you to a bathroom. The primary objective. This time, there was no bathtub, an obvious relief. Just a frosted shower that was as elegant as the rest of the residence.

“I can sit with you.” She offered again, this time, less cautious.

“Please.”

It wasn’t so much as begging as a simple answer to her simple question. Natasha was a gentleman and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, making a show of clamping her hand over her eyes and crossing her legs at the knee. You scoffed and stripped and closed yourself into the shower before turning on the water, flinching under the cold spray for just a moment.

There was relief there, in the growing warmth of the water and the way the dirt and blood and grime washed down the drain. Your muscles trembled under the heat as they began to loosen. You breathed. You clenched your eyes shut, letting the drops of water fall from the curve of your nose. It felt safe to close your eyes with Agent Romanoff right outside the glass plating.

Her shampoo smelled like her. Clean. Comforting. Soon the water ran clear, and you accepted the clothes that she gave you with gratitude unmatched. Still guarded but less-so. There was a pinkness on Agent Romanoff’s cheeks, as you dressed in a labored silence that you easily attributed to the thick steam the two of you breathed in. It crept silently past the hand that hid her eyes from the world.

Instead of leading you back down to the cell, to the room, she’d taken you to her kitchen. Told you to sit down. Now that you had a change of clothes, a t-shirt that was soft as if it’d been worn a million times before, and a pair of gray sweatpants that you had to cuff at the ankles, you felt better. Well enough not to curl into yourself as much. Less of a stranger in your own body but still a passenger waiting for instructions that Natasha was happy to provide.

“I don’t have much. It’s pretty late, so if you’re willing to forgive microwave pizza, so am I.” She turned from the fridge and you gave her the smallest bit of a nod that she found endearing. “Perfect. I’m afraid I’m no chef.”

You watched her curiously as she loaded up the plate with cold slices of New York style pizza. Even now, the scent hit you and made your mouth water. It was simple, probably a few days old and certainly not as good as it would have been fresh, but your stomach clenched in want all the same.

At the Hydra compound, it had been the same thing when they decided to grant you food. A slathering of white rice and tasteless gravy. Sometimes a chunk of stale white bread to soak up the soupy gruel if you were lucky. You often weren’t but by the time they’d slide the frothy tray through the bottom of the latch in the darkness you were too starved to care.

The first time you’d eaten too quickly to digest it properly and promptly vomited it back up. Whitehall was not pleased. He’d dug his boot into the tenderness of your ribs as a punishment for being ungrateful for what he’d provided you. You weren’t permitted food again for another three days after that.

Natasha slid the plate in front of you now, watched as you shrunk in front of her, lifted your eyes to her own as if waiting for permission to touch the food. Her eyebrows knit together. She attempted to lighten the mood “Lactose intolerant?”  

“No,” You whispered with a laugh, “No, I don’t know. I… why are you doing this?”

The chair creaked as she sat back, a baffled expression on her face. “It’s my job.”

“There’s more than that. You could have left me downstairs to fight off that panic attack on my own, but you didn’t. You walked me through it and then brought me into your own space and let me shower and gave me your own clothes and your own food. I don’t… that’s not part of the job descriptions, I don’t think. I don’t deserve any of it.”

“And who told you that?” Natasha huffed out a breath, lifted her chin towards the plate. “Eat. I know you’re starved.”

She hadn’t answered your question. Not really. But an order was what you needed right now and it was enough to get you to give in to the hunger clawing at the base of your stomach. After the first bite- the first time you had flavor in god knows how long, you gave in and started taking larger portions. The desire for something human swallowed you whole, and happy hums of satisfaction brought a small smile to Agent Romanoff’s face.

Natasha ate slower than you did. With the poise of someone who had once been starved, but had pushed through that haze. When you’d both finished, she moved the plates to the sink, turned to you and rested her palms against the edges of the counter with a question on tip of her tongue.

“I don’t feel comfortable sending you back down there. I have a guest room, more than one, actually. I know that you’ve been through a lot. Too much for any one person to go through in a lifetime. Logically, it’s not safe to have you in my home. I know that and you know that.”

She paused, as if she were waiting for you to object. But you didn’t. She was right. Agent Romanoff was trained. There was good reason to have you locked up downstairs and you were perfectly fit to move back to that room. The idea of the bathtub being just behind a door made your spine stiffen, but it was manageable. It had to be manageable.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat at the thought. Something that the agent again noticed in the quietness of her own home.

“You are the only one we pulled from that compound who was not there willingly, but I assume you know that.” She hugged herself, something subtle. Something grounding. “If you are to stay here… with me. I’d like to know what to call you.”

You squeezed your fingers into the palms of your hands, letting the pressure soothe you for a moment, and then released the hold. A weighted warmth falling heavy on your shoulders, almost as if Agent Romanoff’s body was still pressed against yours like it had been downstairs to quell the anxieties that bubbled up.

“I don’t know,” You shook your head, a small pout forming against your lips. “I don’t think I’m supposed to remember.”  

[please-destroy]

Magic

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

1.6K

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That morning, Natasha came to breakfast brimming with excitement.

You sensed the change in her energy immediately. You ate together at the cafeteria every day, the rigid Shield routine making your schedules generally easy to coordinate. 

You observed her subtly. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. 

Her long red hair was tied back in the usual ponytail. She wore an oversized grey t-shirt and leggings. She looked typically effortless. 

She tapped her fork against the side of her plate.

‘What?’ You asked at last, not able to stand the suspense any longer. 

Natasha looked up from her breakfast and her eyes were electric. So was her smile.

 ‘Are you free this afternoon?’ She asked you, ignoring your own question.

‘Yeah.’ You replied, elongating the sound as you tried your best to read her expression. 

Natasha nodded to herself and glanced down at her plate, You kicked her foot lightly under the table. 

Natasha’s attention snapped back to you and you noted just how bright her smile was. 

‘What do you have planned?’ You smiled back automatically.  

Natasha propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin against her hand. She shrugged her shoulders playfully. Your attention caught on her eyelashes. You pushed down the familiar feeling of attraction. 

‘Wanna have a sleepover?’ She asked you suddenly. The nervous excitement was almost buzzing from Natasha’s skin now.  

Understanding flooded you all at once. 

You forgot sometimes, because it was so easy to be Natasha’s friend.

You forgot that you were her first one.

‘Of course.’ You answered immediately, reaching over to steal a piece of food from her plate. Natasha’s reactions were always better than yours. She swatted you away easily.

.

You made plans to meet Natasha outside that afternoon. 

She refused to tell you where she was. Instead, she sent you a text with a picture of the view from where she was sitting and a smiley face.

You rolled your eyes at her teasing treasure hunt. Natasha was your favourite person. 

She was lying out on the grass behind one of the Shield residential buildings. 

Her eyes were crinkled, squinting from the sunshine as she identified you from a distance. 

Her wave was small. It seemed understated, but you knew she wasn’t this enthusiastic with anyone else.

Natasha got to her feet to greet you, her sunglasses were pushed up into her hair.

You caught her momentary hesitation and you opened your arms with the steady confidence you knew she sometimes needed.

Natasha hugged you with a subtle relief. 

You loved that she was beginning to trust in your friendship. You didn’t mind being patient.

You lay together in the warm sunshine for a few more hours, revelling in the lack of Shield tasks to do. Inevitably, the conversation kept moving back to your evening plans.

Natasha was going to cook you dinner.

She gave you an excited smile when she told you.

Her ear piercings glittered in the sunlight. 

You loved her. 

.

The sunshine made you sleepy and you ended up lying back with your eyes closed. Natasha kept her fingers resting gently at the top of your head, picking up her book and flitting through the pages artfully with one hand.

Natasha woke you as the sun was starting to slip behind the taller buildings. 

You smiled automatically when you opened your eyes to the sight of her.

Natasha insisted on carrying your overnight bag as you walked back to her place. 

You let yourself acknowledge your own excitement as you entered her apartment.

You’d only ever visited her place once before, a few months ago. You remembered it mostly for the sparse decoration. 

Now, subtle pieces of her personality had started to clutter the space. It looked much better for it.

Natasha walked proudly through to the living room, it took you a moment to understand her purposefully slow gait and side glances. To realise what she wanted you to see.

Your mouth opened in surprise at the fairy lights that she’d hung along the far wall. 

‘Wow.’ You commented, your heart twisting in a strange way. No one had any idea about this side of Natasha.

Natasha flushed, pulling her hair out of the pony tail and letting the wall of red hair partially obscure her. 

‘It’s silly.’ She murmured.

‘No.’ You smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I think it’s the best.’

You sat together on the sofa and at Natasha’s insistence, you chose something to watch on her laptop. As the evening went on, you noted all the new pieces around you that had been chosen by Natasha. The cartoon Easter bunny on the mug she offered you. The leafy green plant that took up a corner of the room. A birthday card you’d sent her. You tried not to smile too obviously.

.

Natasha made far too much pasta for dinner. You watched her brow furrow in frustration as she realised. 

You told her you didn’t mind but she shook her head.

‘I should have checked the recipe.’ She muttered to herself harshly. Natasha was rarely angry at anyone but herself.

You placed your hand on her shoulder and Natasha’s breath caught. Slowly, you felt the tension leave her. 

‘Sorry.’ She murmured softly after a moment. 

You wrapped an arm around her, giving her a careful side hug. 

‘Don’t apologise.’ You commanded easily. ‘This day is already the best day.’

Wordlessly, Natasha turned around in your hold. Her face buried against your shoulder as she hugged you tightly.

Her vulnerability settled in your chest. 

‘Come on.’ You suggested in a gentle tone. ‘Don’t worry. I know how sleepovers work.’

You led her back to the sofa and Natasha sat down, her head swivelling in confusion as you sat behind her on the very back of the sofa. 

You nodded over to her laptop.

‘This time, you pick.’ You prompted as you split her hair into several pieces and began a simple braid. Natasha’s lips pressed together and you sensed her quiet gratefulness. 

You squeezed her shoulders with your knees affectionately.

As the opening credits of a Julia Roberts rom-com sailed past on the screen, Natasha hummed to herself in satisfaction. 

Slowly, she leaned against your left leg.

You stayed still after you’d finished the braid, not wanting to disturb her. Natasha seemed to have become slowly engrossed in the movie. 

You tried to pay attention too. 

Absentmindedly, Natasha picked up your hand. She threaded her fingers with yours and let them rest near her shoulder. 

You felt shaky with a rush of love.

You tried to remind yourself that this didn’t mean the same to her. You closed your eyes, giving up on the movie entirely as you tried to ground yourself.

Natasha wasn’t your girlfriend. 

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t ruin her first ever friendship. It wasn’t fair. 

When the movie finished and the end credits were rolling, you looked down at Natasha for the first time. 

You should have guessed something was wrong from her silence.

‘Hey.’ You worried immediately as you registered the tear tracks staining her cheeks. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

Natasha’s lip trembled at your acknowledgement. She kept staring at the laptop screen.

‘I’m sorry.’ She told you, and for a brief illogical moment, you thought she was still talking about the pasta.

‘What’s wrong?’ You repeated, as slow rising panic filled you. Natasha had never cried in front of you before. 

You tightened your hold of her hand. 

‘I love you.’ Natasha whispered. You could feel the shivers running down her spine. 

Shock flooded you. 

‘You love me?’ You repeated dumbly. 

Natasha took a shuddering breath. 

‘I don’t want to ruin this.’ She mumbled as she got to her feet. ‘I know it must sound ridiculous.’ 

Your joined hands broke as she started to walk away. 

You watched her clench and unclench her fingers. You realised she was trembling all over. 

‘Natasha.’ You whispered.

‘I just hoped that maybe you might see today.’ Natasha continued nervously, her Russian accent catching at the end of each sentence. ‘That I can be normal, you know?’

She turned to you and her smile made your heart ache.

‘I know that you know some of the things I’ve done.’ She whispered sadly.

.

You’d been part of the extraction team from Budapest. Natasha had never mentioned that mission, but you’d seen the blankness on her face when she’d first arrived at Shield Headquarters. You’d read through her file once. Lots of it was guesswork, but it couldn’t all be wrong.

When you’d first become friends, you’d noticed the constant dark circles under her eyes that told of nightmares you couldn’t imagine.

You didn’t hold the things in that file against her. Natasha already held them against herself.

.

You stood up from the sofa and took a step forward. 

Natasha huffed a nervous breath, brushing a loose piece of hair away from her face.

You took her hand again, and watched a sweet relief calm her expression.

At last, you understood the feeling that was written across Natasha’s face.

You’d been feeling it just as long as she had. 

‘I do know some of the things you’ve done.’ You acknowledged slowly, watching Natasha’s lips part with shallow breaths. ‘There are things I know that you don’t talk about.’

You heard Natasha’s breath catch. You watched her go still with nerves.

‘But that doesn’t stop me loving you. Because I already know your heart.’

You kissed Natasha softly. Her lips pressed hurriedly against yours. 

Kissing Natasha felt like fire in the rain. 

When you broke apart, Natasha’s smile was vulnerable and bright at the same time.

Her skin sparkled under the fairy lights. 

She looked like magic.

[demonicbaby666]

Y/n: I'm in Spain, but without the s 

Nat: So...

Nat: You're in pain?

Y/n: Sorry typo, I meant without the p 

Nat: That's not how you spell insane 

Nat: This is also a verbal conversation

Y/n: Think you missed the point of what I said...

[ncis-nerd]

secrets untold au

[Insert Header Here]

Ship: Wife N. Romanov x Boss W. Maximoff x College Student Reader

First Day - wanda x reader

about: y/n, a college student starts her new internship. she is off to a rough start but don't worry it gets better.

Unforgettable Rain - wanda x reader , wanda x nat , slight nat x reader

about: wanda asks y/n to come in on her day off, to "file papers". is that it or did she want something more?

[wonderingnerd]

Beautiful

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Relationship: Natasha Romanov/reader

TW: hinted mentions of sexual assault and child sexual abuse (not at all in depth, but it is hinted, so stay safe if you’re thinking on reading this)

.

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Natasha knows she is beautiful, she has always known it. It was hard not to know it when this was the one of the only compliments she received growing up. Not that she knew it was a compliment. For her, before leaving the Red Room, ‘beautiful’ was mainly a description of a physical trait, something she wasn’t able to control just as much as she wasn’t able to control the color of her eyes or how red her hair was. It was hard to see ‘beautiful’ as a compliment when that was the reason of why she had adults thirsting over her.

When she finally left the Red Room for her first mission, Natasha began to understand that ‘beautiful’ was a trait people liked. It was a trait people looked for and trusted almost blindly. Specially men. And she started to understand why Madame B talked about her beauty as much as she talked about her skills. Of why she complimented Natasha so much for the stares she received of the men inside the Red Room.

After she defected to SHIELD and even around the Avengers, Natasha began to see her beauty as toxic. For her, it was the same as the amazing glow of radioactive substances — ‘beautiful’ and deadly. Her beauty glowed on her and could — should �� warn everyone of her deadliness. Stay back. She is ‘beautiful’. She is deadly.

Unlike her, you are pretty. You have a beauty so different from hers that she can’t think of you as something as toxic as ‘beautiful’. You are pretty, you glow in a non-toxic way, you shine in liveness. You two are opposites in that way and Natasha was afraid you would leave her when you finally realized what her beauty was truly about.

But now, looking at her own sobbing reflection on the elevator chromed door, her hand crouching the sugar packet she got for her coffee, she is trying to understand how you can say she is beautiful and not sound at all as all the other compliments she has always related to ‘beautiful’. She is trying to understand how you can say that as if you are talking about her soul and not about her body. And while you get the hot cup of coffee and destroyed sugar packet from her hands, she finally begins to understand why people think ‘beautiful’ is a compliment. When you hug and hold her as tenderly and you can, when you repeats all the beautiful things you like about her, not fully understanding what triggered her crying but wanting to help nonetheless, Natasha melts and finds ‘beautiful’ a beautiful word for the first time. And, praying that your pretty shine continues to overlight her toxic glow, she finds your lips while you are still speaking ‘beautiful’.

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This was a challenge by @vancityfire13 on the @runawayswrite and, against my best judment on how to manage my time, it took me 1.5hour to write, edit and post it. The challenge was “exactly 25 sentences and include 1 of these 3 things: a sugar packet, an elevator or a reflection”. My crazy mind said “lab, are you kicking me? No, we’re gonna focus on this instead of chem rn and yeah, we gonna use the whole prompt even if we could choose only one of those things”. 

I’ll probably post it in ao3 when I have a break from study.