#black widow fanfic

[xoxoavenger]

Did You Hear About the Girl Who Lives In Delusion?

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

summary: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice on Vormir, throwing Y/N into a depressive state that she can't get out of.

word count: 2456

warnings: major character death, reader has depression, title based off a taylor swift song

Falling Avenger Masterlist main masterlist

"Come on, Y/N," Natsaha whispered, holding her best friend up. Y/N had been knocked against the rock wall by Thanos, and Natasha could feel the blood from her head coating her fingers. "Please, please," She begged, tears in her eyes. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if Y/N had died before she was able to reveal her feelings.

Natasha - killer of men and a ruthless badass - was too afraid to tell her best friend that she was in love with her.

Natasha felt the tears run down her face, which was strange because she couldn't even remember the last time she had cried. She pulled Y/N to her lap, fearing it was already too late. She wasn't sure how long she stared at her best friend's face, willing her eyes to open. She was still breathing, thankfully, but Natasha had lost all sense of time. She wasn't sure how long Y/N had been knocked out for, and she wasn't sure if Y/N even had brain function at this point. Medical things weren't her forte.

"Sam!" Natasha heard Rhodey call out. She whipped her head, confused as to why people were just walking around. Something had to be off - where was Thanos? Why weren't they fighting h-

"Tasha?" Y/N's voice pushed all the thoughts in Natasha's head out. She took a deep breath, as if she finally could get air into her lungs, and helped Y/N sit up. "What happened?"

"Thanos threw you into a rock wall." Natasha answered, swiping some of Y/N's hair out of her face. "Shuri will be able to fix you right up. You'll be okay in no time." Natasha wanted to pull her close and never let go, to murder Thanos for even thinking about hurting her, but Y/N was strong and independent and Natasha wasn't even sure that was something she would like. So instead, she kept her voice low and even, the same it always was.

Natasha got up and pulled Y/N to her feet, and together they began running, watching everyone look at each other and begin to congregate into one group with sad faces. A quick look before they had even joined showed that they were missing quite a few heroes, and everyone was looking down in defeat. Where was Sam? Where was T'Challa, Wanda, Vision, Bucky?

"Oh my God," Y/N gasped as she saw Visions grey body on the ground. Her thoughts raced as she tried to figure out what was going on, why no one was fighting Thanos. "Where is he?" She asked, and everyone know who she was referring to as they all looked to her with tears falling down their faces.

"He left." Thor said, his voice so low and sad that it made Y/N want to reach her hand straight through Thanos' body and pluck his heart out. These people were her family, the only one she knew. She didn't like when they were hurt - she hated the past few years they were split. This was a different kind of hurt.

"Well, where's he going?" Y/N asked, as if it were the most obvious question. She couldn't believe that they were all gone. She couldn't just stand and mourn people who they were going to save. Steve stood up shakily from his spot on the floor, his eyes moving everywhere except hers. "He can't have all the stones. Right?" She knew by now that she was wrong, knew that they had lost, but she didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it. They were the Avengers - even if things had been rocky the past two years. They didn't lose.

She couldn't lose.

"Right?" She repeated, this time more quiet, more shaky. Her breath began to come in pants, tears falling from her eyes with no warning. She thought about Sam, her best friend, who was apparently gone now. About Wanda, who had gone through the pain of losing her lover to a genocidal tyrant.

And what about the people who were still there? Okoye, who lost her king. Steve, who lost his best friend. Thor, who lost, well, everything.

She quickly turned to see Natasha, standing right behind her, a hand on her stomach and tears leaking out of her eyes slowly but otherwise a complete statue. Y/N ran the short steps to her, taking Natasha into her arms and holding tight.

"Please, please tell me you're real. That you won't leave." Y/N begged, heaving breaths as she sobbed into Natasha's shoulder. It came all at once, the unbearable emotions of everyone being gone. Losing was too much to handle, even if the blame couldn't be placed fully on one person.

"I'm here. I promise. I'm not going anywhere." Natasha tightened her arms around Y/N, her own tears falling. She hadn't even realized that she was crying until she felt the dampness on her face, her throat tight and breathing unregulated. That made her freak out even more, and the only thing grounding her was Y/N, who was holding her like she would leave if she wasn't close enough.

"Tasha," Y/N cried, her hands clutching Natasha's vest. She felt her knees give out, and Natasha slowly lowered them to the ground.

They lost.

~

In the five years that Y/N and Natasha had started living at the Compound, alone, Natasha still hadn't managed to tell Y/N her feelings. She hasn't been able to say it, no matter how close she's gotten.

How close they've gotten.

Natasha is sure Y/N can feel it. She has to. When they watch movies together, when they make dinner together, that one time they even danced together.

She doesn't gain the courage until it's too late.

They volunteered to go to, knowing they were the best suited for the two person job. They were the most in tune, worked the best together. No one knew what to expect at this place; all the other times were ones that they had lived through. But not this one. They had no idea what they were walking into.

"Incase we don't make it back," Natasha started as they climbed up the mountain. It was now or never.

"Stop," Y/N's voice was shaky but confident, her eyes cast down. "We're gonna make it back." She couldn't afford to think any other way.

"You don't know that," Natasha started. She needed to say it, needed Y/N to know before it was too late.

"Natasha, daughter of Ivan," A cloaked man starts, gathering their attention.

They're silent as they walk up the mountain, both of their minds reeling. Y/N knows what Natasha is gonna say - she can feel it too. She's been in love with Natasha for years, too afraid to say anything. Natasha is this beautiful creature, full of love and hurt and want and Y/N wants to give it all to her. She has never felt this way about anyone.

But she cannot for the life of her spit it out, and she is not going to let Natasha say it out of fear that one of them is going to die.

"A soul for a soul," Y/N felt her heart drop. This wasn't a fight. "An everlasting exchange."

They turn to each other, Y/N's breathe hiccuping.

"He's lying." She whispers, walking closer to Natasha. "He has to be." Natasha takes a deep breath, not looking at her.

"Thanos came here with his daughter. He left, she didn't." Her voice is low and resigned.

"Okay," Y/N paces back. "In that case, you should know something." Y/N puts her hands on her waist and turns around.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it." Natasha says, her face annoyingly still and unreadable.

"We're not getting out of this." Y/N says, her breath hitching. "One of us has to," When the tears start to fall, Natasha has her arms around her.

"Whatever it takes." Natasha says, holding Y/N as she sniffles.

"For the record," Y/N says, pulling herself away. She steps far enough back that Natasha won't be able to grab her with her lightning fast reflexes. "I said 'I love you' first." She doesn't wait for Natasha to respond, doesn't even wait to see her reaction. She's running toward the edge on the mountain as fast as she can.

She's not fast enough, because Natasha tases her with a Widow Bite. She falls to the ground with a yelp, her body lighting up in pain.

"I won't let you die." Natasha says. She goes too slow, because Y/N kicks her legs out and tripping Natasha.

"And you think I'll let you?" She grunts, standing and running again. She jumps, trying not to be afraid of death. She almost closes her eyes when she feels herself get yanked. Natasha is with her, Y/N's hand around her arm to keep her from falling.

"Y/N." Natasha whispers, watching as Y/N tries to unhook herself. Natasha has tied her to the mountain, rendering her unable to fall.

"How could you?" Y/N yells, tears falling down her face. She tries to move to get Natasha with both hands, but she can't reach.

"I love you," Natasha tells her, and Y/N feels sick.

"I can't let you go!" She cries, heart shattering.

"It's okay," Natasha smiles before pushing away from the wall and slipping out of Y/N's grasp.

"No!" Y/N's hand grasps air, watching Natasha fall until she hits the ground. Y/N throws herself against the wall in agony.

Her best friend, her love, is dead.

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them back up she's laying in water. She can feel the stone in her hand, but she can't bring herself to move. She can't think. She doesn't want to even be there.

It should have been her.

She sits up, looking up at the stone. Natasha gave her life for this stone, so she could live; she can't give that up. She uses her GPS to get back to the Compound.

Her home was gone.

She feels sick when she gets back to the present, standing on the glass contraption. She blinks for a couple seconds, hearing everyone speaking.

"Did we actually pull that off?"

She wants to say no, wants to yell at everyone, but she's not sure she can even move now.

"Where's Nat?" Bruce asks. Y/N looks up, eyes clouding with more tears.

"She's gone." She can barely get the words out before she's falling, Steve catching her as she drops the stone. She feels like she can't breathe, and she lets her eyes close in hopes that she won't wake up.

~

Everything is gone. Everything is gone. The compound is gone and her personal belongings are gone and she. is. gone.

Steve leaves soon after, and with him Y/N's last hope at getting help. No one else understands, and they also lost things so no one realizes when Y/N starts to go insane.

It starts with her buying things that remind her of Natasha. She even gets pointe shoes, since Nat's were destroyed. She has pieces of Natasha's stuff that she's taken from museums, Sam helping her not get in trouble. But it's been months, and everyone knows that she's struggling, but no one knows how to help her. She's like a ghost, haunting the halls of Steve's small apartment. She has him for a couple days, but then he leaves her. He leaves to be with Peggy, and Y/N can't be with Natasha.

She throws up, brushes her teeth, then doesn't eat again until Bucky comes over two days later.

"Y/N?" Bucky let himself into the apartment using Steve's key after he knocked for a couple minutes with no answer. Bucky expected the apartment to be a mess after Steve left, but it looks exactly the same as the last time he was here. It looks far too similar, actually, and it makes Bucky start to panic slightly. He looks further into the apartment, not sure what's happening.

He finds her in her room, on the ground with a sheet wrapped tightly around her. For a moment, he can't breathe; he thinks she's dead.

"Y/N?" He whispers, kneeling next to her. She's breathing, and he tries to let out a small breath. She has her eyes open, just staring blankly. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?" Bucky looks at what he can see of her body, and she looks fine.

"Buck?" She whispers, finally moving her head to look at him. Her voice is croaky, as if she hasn't used it in a while. Bucky quickly does the mental math and realizes that Y/N probably hasn't seen anyone since Steve left. He immediately feels guilty for not checking in on her, even though he's been working through his own hurt.

"Are you hurt?" Bucky repeats again, and Y/N shakes her head, eyes clearing. She tries to get up, but Bucky has to help her with how weak she is.

"What are you doing here?" She asks quietly, letting him lead her to the kitchen.

"No one has heard from you in days, Y/N. What have you been doing? Are you eating?" He knows he's asking too many questions, but he can't help himself.

"It's been days?" She asks, because it feels like it could have been either minutes or centuries, not in between. She feels like Natasha has been gone for years, but she finds herself forgetting Natasha isn't gone if she doesn't remind herself every day.

"Why don't you come to my apartment? Stay with me for a little bit?" He offers it as if he isn't going to carry her out of here if she doesn't listen to him. She turns and stares at him, and he knows she needs some actual food, and somewhere to sleep. This could be good for him, to the able to actually nurture and take care of someone. He wants to help after all the years he's caused hurt.

He knows about Y/N and Natasha.

He can't help the feeling of wanting to ask as she grabs a pair of pointe shoes, new and unused, and Natasha's first ever Widow Cuff, which Bucky was pretty sure was in the Smithsonian in the Avengers section. He wants to ask when Y/N stays silent the entire ride to his apartment. But he knows that what Y/N and Natasha had was special, and he's sure that it's too raw. He understands, and as much as he wants to share his pain, he'll wait until Y/N's ready.

He hopes that one day, she'll come to him and they can talk about it. But until then, he watches her run her fingers over the satin on the pointe shoes and stare off into the distance, as if reliving something over and over again. Time doesn't move for her, but he hopes that it will soon. 

//

tags: (not tagging my regular tags bc this is a fem x fem and all my other tags are male x fem, so let me know if you want to be tagged in natasha fics in the future!)

[avengerscompound]

Magic Fingers

Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff Word Count:��520 Rating/Warnings: M (Brief mentions of sex)

His fingers moved - gentle and dexterous - scratching over her scalp and untangling the knots. They were calloused from hard manual use and moved with a practiced ease, completely different from the rough tug of the brush she was used to.

It made her scalp prickle in a warm pleasant way and she felt her muscles relax in a way that was so rare and novel to her.  She considered herself a hardass, but right now, she was soft like putty, leaning into the hand like a cat.

No one ever believed Natasha when she said she didn’t dye her hair.  She didn’t blame them for it.  It was an unusual shade - more of a blood red than ginger or honey blonde.  It was an asset to her.  Men loved the red hair.  They wanted to touch it, to have it curled around their fingers or bunched in their fists.  They wanted to know if the carpet matched the drapes.  They wanted to pull it from behind and hold her in place.

They were disgusting and she hated it, but it had made her job much easier to do.

These days, she didn’t much like people touching it at all.  She’d still allow it on occasion.  It wasn’t as if she avoided going to the salon.  But after years of strangers who seemed to think the way to gain ownership of her was to claim her hair first, she preferred if people didn’t touch it at all.  Not lovers.  Not stylists.  Not friends wanting a girl's night where they drank red wine and braided each other’s hair while they talked about boys (not that Natasha had friends like that).

Clint though - Clint was different.

He touched her like she was precious and fragile.  It was not a feeling that she was used to but it was one she could get used to.  He threaded his fingers through her hair, running them over her scalp.  The man hated magic and yet he had the magic touch.  She wanted so much when he played with her hair like this and yet she was completely content at the same time.

Clint Barton - archer, Avenger, ass.  He might just be the love of her life.

She rolled closer to him, her eyes fluttering closed and she made a sound that was way too close to a purr.  Clint laughed and his nails scratched softly down the back of her neck.  “What was that, Nat?” he asked.  “Did you turn into a cat?”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him through narrowed eyes.  “Shut up and kiss me already.”

He laughed more, but he didn’t push it.  He knew enough to know how much of a joke she could take.  Just like her hair, he was careful with her emotions.  He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

As they kissed, she reached up and pushed her hand into his hair, gently scratching her nails over his scalp.  He purred and leaned into her more.  It was nice to know that they shared a weakness.  One more sign he was her perfect match.

[axinite25]

Kate Bishop dies on a Thursday

SUMMARY: Kate Bishop is living the same day, over and over, and every day she dies. Luckily, she doesn't remember any of it.

But Yelena does.

Words: 23,364

Chapter: 1/1

[stevenssacrab]

Collision

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: On a routine bike ride through your local park, you meet a beautiful stranger in unique way.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mentions of blood, and wound care, descriptions of a bike accident

Word Count: 1.0k

a/n: Just a lil short and sweet one, with the ever beautiful Natasha :D

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

The cool autumn air gently nips at your skin, your cheeks round and rosy pink; you always loved a good evening bike ride around your local park; you first started it as a way to get the daily exercise, but you've grown to love the repetitive motion of pushing the petals, and the wind blowing past your face. Today was particularly beautiful; the sun was setting, a ray of crimson and amber painting the sky.

You like to use this time to unwind and think of nothing substantial, no deadlines, upcoming events, or obligations; be in the moment. As you round your 2nd lap around the park, you’re stuck on whether you should do another lap, while deep in thought, you don’t even see the person riding straight for you at an ungodly speed.

“Hey! Watch out!” A bystander yells, but it is already too late; time slows each second longer than the last as you come speeding toward this woman on her bike; there is no avoiding it; it is already happening. You collided with a painful crack, sending you flying over, landing hard on your shoulder, and tumbling forward.

When you open your eyes, you're greeted by a gorgeous woman, her face etched with worry. Her mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything she's saying. You're lost in her eyes, a beautiful mix of blueish green with flicks of amber; she slowly waves her hand in front of your face, snapping back into reality.

"Hello? Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't see you until it was too late." she said, her eyes scanning you for injuries, her face dropping when she saw blood coming from your forehead. "Oh my god, I have a first aid kit in my car; I'll be right back," she said quickly; you watched her run away and disappear momentarily behind the trees; you were inspecting the damage when you heard footsteps running toward you. Your eyes scan over her physique; you definitely overlooked that before.

"Okay, let me take a look," she said smoothly, setting the kit down next to you; she cracked open a water bottle and grabbed your hand; she softly put the water bottle into your hand.

"Here, take this," she says while grabbing a packet of ibuprofen; handing you the tablet, she patiently waits for you to do as instructed; you stare at her, mouth agape, "please," she says, gently motioning at the medication, you obey and swallow the pill, you're staring at her, thoroughly aware that you still haven't spoken a word.

"Th-thank you," you say meekly; you look at the palms of your hands.

"You're welcome," she chirps happily, "Let me take a look," she says, cracking open another water bottle; she pours it onto a towel and gently pats your forehead clean.

"So, what's your name?" she asks, focused on your wound.

"Y/N," you say gingerly, using the opportunity to take in every detail of her face, noticing the 2 moles on her cheek.

"You know it's rude to stare?" she quips, never breaking her focus.

"I-I'm not staring; you're just, in front of me is all." you defended

"Uh-huh, sure," she says cockily, flicking her eyes down to meet yours, you try to hold contact, but when she looks at you, you feel as if she's staring right into your soul.

"So, what do you do?" she asks, trying to fill the silence.

"I'm a firefighter," you say proudly.

"Oh, well, that's unexpected," she says, searching for the Neosporin, "how is a firefighter so clumsy?" she teases, her lips coming to a smirk.

"Clumsy? I'm pretty sure you ran into me," you laugh back.

"Why don't you let me make it up to you over coffee?" she says slyly, her eyes snapping to your lips and then back to your eyes.

"Hmm, I suppose," you tease back as you grab the Neosporin from the kit, handing it to her; she generously applies it, eyes watching your face for any hints of pain.

"Do you live around the area?" she asks, firming her hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, like a 5-minute bike ride from here," you say; you're usually not this open with your personal information, but something about her, you know she's one of the good ones; she grabs a large bandaid and cautiously covers the wound.

"There you go, all better." She leaned back and started putting all the supplies away.

"Oh, let me help you," you say, suddenly moving to help, you knock over the entire box.

"I'm sorry, let me help you," you say; you kneel down and frantically clean up the mess.

"Y/N, relax," she says calmly; she kneels down and helps you clean up.

"Not clumsy, huh?" she says coyly, lifting her brow slightly.

"I'm not. I'm just nervous," you laugh, nervously staring at the ground.

"Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" she questions, slowly closing the space between you, inching closer like an apex predator. You don't know what else to do; you are reduced to a stuttering mess, slowly getting pushed into a nearby tree.

"I-No, I just-" you stutter out; you bump into the tree, suddenly aware of how close she is; you stare at her, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Shhh, it's alright, Y/N," she shushes, gently grabbing your hand; you jump at the sudden contact but instantly melt into her touch.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" she asks sweetly.

"Okay," you say simply, leading her out of the park.

"I'm Natasha, by the way," she says, bringing attention to the fact that you hadn't even asked what her name was; you smack your palm to your forehead, shame engulfing you; how did you forget to ask for her name?

"I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask your name, ugh," you sighed heavily, hitting your face with your hands.

"It's okay," she laughs, breaking any tension you had left in you. "I mean, I did crash into you, and you did land pretty hard," she says gently, thumbing over your knuckles.

"Thank you for taking care of me," you say shyly, avoiding eye contact, "Well, this is me," you say; you let go of her hand and reach for your keys; you do it slowly; you don't want this to end.

"I'll see you this weekend, right, for that coffee?" she asks, patiently awaiting your answer.

"Yes, definitely."

[writing-house-of-m]

Cold hands, Warm hearts

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Natasha warms you up on a cold day with an impromptu date

A/N: This is for @esouliie ! You can all thank her for this because I don't know when I would have gotten something new finished. This was also the result of there being way too many 'missing Natasha hours' recently (I've also been having a lot of 'missing Wanda hours' too and have re-watched WandaVision because of it). But, everyone... this fic... is so freaking cute and I hope you all think so too. Happy reading and let me know who you think!

"Hey," you hear a familiar rasp from over your shoulder. 

You didn't think you would hear from her so soon. She told you she was going to be busy, which is code for ‘away on a mission’, so have kept yourself occupied for the last few weeks trying not to think of the red head. Which is easier said than done. 

Every morning when you wake up disappointment fills you not seeing her there. Your intertwined lives are now routine. 

It is hard to adjust when she is away, especially when it is for weeks and what feels like no end in sight. On top of that, with missions like these, there is no communication between you to fill the Natasha shaped hole in your life. 

Sometimes you wonder if it would be easier to be involved with someone else, anyone else for that matter, but the thought is gone as quick as it comes because no one could ever replace the way she makes you feel. 

The first week of her absence you filled your free time as much as you could by catching up with friends and family. You constantly found yourself avoiding the question about why you have been so distant recently. It was the one thing Natasha requested from you - not telling anyone about your relationship with her - to, in her words ‘keep you safe'. 

You still remember the way she looked at you. It was the first time you could see past the facade she held, seeing the worry linger in her eyes for a split second. The intensity of her gaze and her hesitance was a strange thing to witness. When you nodded your head in agreement her smile was soft, almost relieved. In that moment you realized you would agree to anything she asked just to see that vulnerable side again. You felt privileged. 

This second and third week have been much slower, a lot of your time has been spent in the four walls of your apartment because of last minute canceled plans and much needed maintenance needed around your home. 

So you decide today, cold be damned, you will be taking a walk through your local park. You shared this little wonder of a place with Natasha in your fourth month of being together, happy to be able to reveal a bit more of you and your life. 

It is a public place, more people pass by here than in the street where you live. But you got to show Natasha all the overlooked secrets; little winding paths that lead to flower gardens, a pond hidden behind some bushes and the gargoyles you can see from one spot when standing in a specific angle by a monument in the center. You even pointed out some regulars you see because of all your time here. From the confined elderly wanting a bit of liberation from their mundane lives to daring children trying to climb the tallest tree they can find. 

A breeze rushes past, the cold chilling you to your bones and you inwardly curse at yourself. Trust you to have picked the coldest day for some freedom. Initially, the brisk air was making you regret your decision, that was until the sun came out. It didn't do a whole lot against the freezing temperature, but it did look pretty against the frost and ice distracting you from the chilly weather. 

The way the sun's rays shine between the branches that stretched out over your head reminded you of spring time and how much you couldn’t wait for the season to change. 

Just as you were about to get out from the clearing for some much needed sunlight and heat on your face, that’s when you heard Natasha. 

It has been so long you think you are hearing things, that is until you turn your head and see her. The long army green coat she is wearing almost makes her look taller. 

Almost. 

Strands of red hair peek out from the beanie Natasha is wearing, a braid is tucked into her pulled up collar and she has a soft smile on her face. One you have noticed she reserves for you. 

It takes everything in you to not run over and jump into her arms, to press your nose into her neck to get a smell of the home you have been craving. 

Big scenes are not her thing, you’ve learnt. 

Instead your eyes drop to her gloved hands holding two hot drinks which takes you out of your stupor and smiling brighter in return. You almost want to ask how she knew where you were but then remember her profession. 

"You look cold," there is a playfulness to Natasha’s voice matching her smirk. 

Regardless of how wrapped up you are, you know your scarf hasn't done much to stop your face from getting cold, it must be covered in a light blush. 

"I could say the same about you," you raise an eyebrow with your own smirk. A noticeable pink tint is adorning her cheeks and nose from the cold bite of the air. You wonder how long she has been trailing you. 

Natasha's smile widens as closes in and hands you one of the cups. You take off your gloves, shoving them into your pocket to allow the heat to bring back the feeling in your frozen hands as you bring it to your nose to take a whiff. Your favorite, of course it is. 

She leans in and pecks you on the lips, her still warm palm from the drink sinks into your cheek making you forget about the kiss of the sun you were walking towards. Natasha disappoints you with how short her lips are on yours, you were hoping for something that was more than just a split second considering how long it has been. 

Although Natasha pulls back it is only by an inch as she remains close to ask, "Where are you going?" 

Her voice is low and her warm breath is a nice contrast to the icy wind. 

Your eyes flutter close as you revel in her presence and soak up the warmth she brings. Brushing your nose against hers you reply, "Wherever my feet take me," you smile and open your eyes to the green ones you selfishly wish to keep to yourself. "I'm glad I have some company now," you whisper. 

"I hope you weren't expecting anyone else," Natasha says with a twitch of an eyebrow. 

You shake your head. "Definitely not," you say, pressing a small kiss to her lips, one that lasts longer than the mediocre one she gave you. "I missed you." 

You like seeing her like this. Carefree. Soft. Unguarded. 

Well as unguarded as can be, it was something you picked up in your first few months of spending time together - Natasha is always alert. The way her eyes flint around every so often, looking around to quickly survey her surroundings, always cautious of any lingering threats. To the untrained eye it looks like she is taking in the scenery, but you know after knowing her for as long as you have. 

Over time it is a habit you have even picked up from her, making you wonder if there are things she has picked up from you. 

Natasha stands by your side allowing you to loop an arm around her waist while you take a sip of your beverage. It leaves a warm trail as it makes its way down your throat. It still isn't as warm as the way Natasha makes you feel though as cheesy as that may sound. 

"Thank you for this, I didn't realize how much I needed it," you say, signaling the paper cup. 

She smiles at you to acknowledge your gratitude. "You're never one to think ahead, plus I saw you shiver," Natasha remarks. 

You scoff, shaking your head, "I did not shiver." 

Some children are laughing not too far in front of you which distracts both of your attentions away from your conversation. A large puddle of water has frozen over and seems to be the main source of entertainment for the little gang. 

The two of you stop to watch their innocence, a pang of jealousy hits you because of how carefree and innocent they are. Not a single worry showing on their faces in this cruel world. 

You have been fortunate to only hear about the atrocities always going on. More so since you started to date Natasha. She doesn't go into detail about her line of work but the faraway look she has on her face sometimes after certain assignments tells you all you need to know. It fills you with pride knowing you are Natasha’s source of domestic normalcy. 

One of the snuggly wrapped up boys slips and tries to regain his footing before he falls to the ground making you let out a breath of laughter. The scene is something straight from a cartoon as the boy tries to find balance when trying to stand again while the rest laugh at him. A boy in a puffy gray coat, who is howling with laughter, loses his feet from under him sending him straight to the ground landing on his butt making the rest of them exclaim even louder. 

The smile you see in your peripheral vision tells you Natasha is enjoying this too. 

"How long had you been watching me before you decided to come over, stalker?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

"Long enough to see you shiver," Natasha accuses in her husky voice. 

You bark out a laugh, "I do not shiver!" 

"Yeah, yeah, you keep lying to yourself," Natasha smirks. 

You spend long minutes, people watching while sipping on your drinks and basking in this precious stolen time you get to spend with each other. 

The children are fewer now, some of them have left with their parents while the rest stay. They have started a game to see who can stay on their feet the longest as they try to knock each other down. 

Sometimes you forget Natasha’s past, what little you know of it, and almost ask about her childhood. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking 'What did you get up to as a kid?’ 

Instead, you face Natasha as she continues to stare on at the scene; her side profile is enough to show her fatigue. You place your empty cup on the wall beside you so you can take her face in your hands. 

Natasha takes your lead to turn in your direction allowing you to take in all of her features. 

"You look tired," you whisper in concern as your thumb rubs along her cheekbone. 

"Gee, thanks(!)" Natasha chuckles at her own sarcasm. 

"Nat," you start, ready to reprimand her for not being serious. 

"We’ve had some long days. But don’t worry, I'll be off for the holidays,” Natasha replies. “You'll have me for two weeks. That’s enough time for you to get sick of having me around. By the end of it you’re going to want to be rid of me." 

"Impossible," you say without thinking then lean in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. 

Natasha turns her head slightly to meet your lips, sighing when she allows herself a moment of being wrapped up in you. 

A buzzing sound makes you stop before you can deepen the kiss any further. You let out a breath of disdain from Natasha’s phone ruining your moment. Natasha smiles at you apologetically, taking the device from her pocket. 

While Natasha checks the notification you give her some privacy, picking up both empty cups to discard them. 

When you return and meet Natasha's eyes, the sparkle that was there just moments ago has faded as regret takes over. She is being called back. 

"Three more days, then you're all mine, Romanoff,” you smile. “And for a whole two weeks!" you exaggerate in hopes to lessen the blow of her having to leave. "How did I get so lucky? I guess I'm being spoiled this season." 

You know you succeed when you see the corners of Natasha's lips raise slightly before she holds onto your coat and pulls you in kissing you again. 

Her phone buzzes impatiently, interrupting you again . 

"I have to go," Natasha says, her warm breath fanning over your face as she rests her forehead against yours. ”But just know, I’m the lucky one here.” 

You smile at her confession and revel once more in the warmth she provides before you have to face the harsh cold that comes with the Winter months alone. 

Kissing Natasha’s forehead you meet her loving green gaze once more. "Come back to me," you breathe out as light as the breeze chilling you. 

"Always," Natasha says, sweetly and just as quiet. Her voice carries the weight of more than the one worded sentence she has spoken. 

Taking a breath, Natasha gives you a final peck before she drags herself away from you. 

Your arm stretches out as Natasha walks away, your hand lingering in hers for those extra few seconds of comfort. But mostly because you don't want to let her go. 

Saying goodbye is always difficult no matter how short the visit. 

As you watch her walk away you think about the first time you met the assassin. 

Out of all the windows in the city Natasha crashed through yours. Your shock had you frozen in place until she tried to stumble out of your apartment but collapsed from fatigue because of the fight she had just endured. 

After getting over the fact an Avenger covered in dirt and blood had ruined your new rug, you used your limited first aid knowledge to nurse her back to health. When she awoke a few hours later, she told you just how crappy of a job you had done. 

What got Natasha’s attention was when you quipped back saying you should have let her bleed out to make a quick buck off of all of her equipment to pay for the damages she caused. 

When she left a short while later you didn’t think you would ever see her in person again. You were looking forward to being able to tell all the people in your life about the encounter with an actual superhero. 

Reality hit you in the gut with the name of ‘Non Disclosure Agreement’ and a clean up crew which you couldn’t be mad about. 

Unbeknownst to you, after your first meeting Natasha couldn't stop herself from wanting to see you again. Her mind drifted to the ‘kind’ (your words not hers) stranger who applied sloppy bandages to her arm and stomach. The messy job would have gotten infected if she hadn’t woken up. Natasha caught herself smiling at the memory too often and had to force herself to be present for work. 

Life went on and your encounter felt less and less real as each day passed. Until one evening, while in your office building working late, you received a call telling you you were needed on the roof. Skeptical as you were, you obeyed thinking of the promotion you had been working so hard toward. 

What you hadn’t expected was a fully healed Black Widow to emerge from the shadows, playfully schooling you to not comply with shady orders received late at night. Then insulting you with how boring your life was and how you should learn to cook for yourself instead of wasting all your money on take-out. 

Surprise was an understatement and instead of letting that show, like your mouth wasn’t already slightly hanging open from the shock while she spoke, you decided to play Natasha’s game and call her out for the stalker that she was. 

Since then your meetings have been sporadic but it didn’t stop you both from falling for each other. Who knew a year and a half on you would be in a relationship with each other, life would have made more sense if you had stopped talking. But you have defied the odds and are still going strong. 

When you make it back to your apartment you find flowers waiting for you on the kitchen counter making you smile. A card attached to them with a message in Natasha’s handwriting that reads ‘3 more days ♡’ makes you feel like your heart is going to burst from emotion. 

Needless to say that smile never left your face throughout you making dinner all the way up until the moment you go to bed that night. Natasha somehow always has a habit of making you feel like a giddy teenager. 

You couldn’t wait to see her again. The gift you have been wanting to give to her for a few weeks has been hidden under your towels in the kitchen cabinet. You can only hope she doesn't already know about it. 

The next time you are together you are going to give her a key to your apartment so that she knows she will always have a place to come back to. 

A place she can call home. 

[cuinaminute229]

Lemonade and sweet tea

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

warnings: fluff, mostly smut, 18+ only

a/n: this was originally only fluff, no idea what happened but now it's fluff with ✨spice✨ also @family-house-of-m cause you asked so nicely enjoy some spicy fluff that probably sucks lol

....

The smell of grilled cheese and hotdogs fills the kitchen. It’s the weekend, a mid-afternoon that warms the grass and concrete sidewalks along the road.

The windows and the backdoor are open to let the breeze run through the house, a few glasses of lemonade and sweet tea sit atop the table with pink straws and polka dots painted plastic cups.

You glance up from where you lean against the counter, a knife in one hand and half of a sandwich in the other, a smile lifts your lips when you catch sight of her in the doorway.

“Did you lose a bet?” You tease her softly as you place the food and utensil down before walking over to her. Her glare is playful as she watches your every movement, hands on her hips as you step up right in front of her. She's dripping wet, droplets of water still clinging to her skin along with the smell of chlorine from the pool.

“I did not lose a bet, I was pushed.” She explains and you bite your cheek to suppress a grin.

“The great Natasha Romanoff let her guard down enough to be pushed into the pool? By a child no less."

Natasha narrows her eyes at you and you realize it's too late to step back because her eyes are bright and gleaming as she pushes forward and wraps her arms around your waist, trapping you in her grip with a low chuckle as you yelp and try to push her away. “Nat, no!”

She’s fast and smooth with her motions as her hands sneak under your shirt as she pulls you even closer, a smug expression on her face as she places a kiss on your cheek.

“Guess who’s soaked now?” Her whisper is low and suggestive and her fingers flex against the muscles of your back when you shiver at her tone.

“You are evil.” You tell her, voice concrete in your conclusion. She smirks as you give in and returns her embrace. Dancing your fingers up the length of her back, finding purchase at the black tied strings of her bikini top.

She raises an eyebrow at you and pushes you back with slow calculated steps until you meet the edge of the counter.

“Clint and his kids are here Nat.” You remind her as her hands wander, nails scratching lightly as she gives you a smirk.

“We'll be quick babygirl.” Her voice is a seductive purr, a dark gleam in her eyes before she captures your lips in a deep kiss.

A hum leaves you as she maneuvers her grip so she can lift you to sit on the only free space on the counter, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip as your breath hitches. Her hands slide over your thighs, pushing the fabric of your skirt up to reveal more smooth skin, urging your legs apart so she can step into the available space.

She pulls back to kiss the soft slope of your throat, nibbling a spot that she knows will make your knees weak. Her hands once again travel under your tank top to dance along the curve of your waist and stomach. You bite your lip as your gaze trails over her shoulder to eye the open door. The warm air brushing through the kitchen in a gentle breeze, a reminder of the heat of summer and sun.

“We can’t,” You try to push her away, hands on her shoulders as the chance that you could be caught creeps into your mind. “Nat.”

She bites the slope of your neck making you shiver. Her tongue soothes the mark she's left, breath hot and heavy as she trails kisses to your shoulder, teasing the edge of your collarbones. “Relax, we can. The kids are having a water balloon fight. We’re fine.”

She pushes the damp fabric of your shirt up with a deadly smirk and you let her toss the shirt away.

“You are evil.” You remind her, voice not as sarcastic as you want, sounding too breathless. You run your hands up her arms to loop them around her shoulders, fingers tangling in her auburn hair. Strands sticking to her jaw and neck as you brush her hair from her face.

“And yet you love me.” Her expression is smug, eyes bright as she keeps eye contact, letting her hands roam, touch soft and teasing.

You hook your legs around her waist, the denim shorts she’s wearing damp and rough against your thighs. “I do love you, always. I married you after all.”

She kisses you again, slow and savoring like she’s planning on taking her time, drawing it out until you can’t even think past the brush of her fingers and lips. Her hands grip your hips, a touch possessive as she pulls you impossibly closer, you groan at the motion and you feel her smile against your lips.

Natasha ducks her head and presses an open-mouthed kiss against the bruise she's left to admire, smirking as your fingers dig into the muscles of her shoulders, nails dragging softly. As her hands trail up the soft skin of your stomach, your fingers tug at the tied knot of her top.

“You have to be quiet.” She reminds you with an impossibly gentle kiss, and you swear she's teasing you on purpose.

"I'm always quiet." You tell her, your stare is intense as you slowly undo the strings, the tiniest smirk on your face when you see her swallow as her top comes loose. You spread your fingers over her newly exposed chest, an innocent smile on your face.

"That," She smirks as she leans forward. You scrape your nails along the muscles of her abdomen as she pushes her chest against your own, drawing a sigh from your throat. "Is a lie."

The contact is dizzying, the heat of her skin, the way she breathes heavily against your lips. You roll your hips for more contact, shameless in your need.

You kiss her like you're starving, like you will never get enough. You kiss her as a moan crawls up your throat, and you can only concentrate on all the places she's touching you.

You ache for her in every single way possible.

The graze of her nipples and the exploration of her hands, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ribcage. The rough fabric of her shorts when she grinds her hips into you.

The heat of her is intoxicating, the gentleness, everything.

"You are," your breath hitches when she drags a nail over the curve of your breast. "such a tease. And a liar."

Natasha pulls back just slightly, nipping your bottom lip as her hands find purchase on your thighs. "Whatever do you mean?" She mumbles with a smirk.

"I thought we were going to be quick?" You raise an eyebrow as her, one hand tangling in her hair as she holds your gaze, eyes burning with a hunger that ignites you.

She leans forward and kisses your lips before she ducks her head and nips at the swell of your breast. Your fingers tighten in her hair as a shiver runs up your spine and she hums against you.

Natasha slides her hands underneath the bunched up fabric of your skirt, nails scratching lightly as her fingers slide up the expansion of your inner thighs.

She is so close to exactly where you need her most and yet she pauses and pulls back to look at you. Her expression is horribly smug when a whine escapes you. "What if I want to take my time? What if I want to devour you?" Natasha's voice is a purr, deep and promising.

“Fuck,” The word is a whimper, breathless even and you would swear your blood is on fire with how she's looking at you.

Natasha hums in agreement. One hand slips around your waist while the other grips your thigh like she never wants to let go.

When she brushes forward, nose bumping against yours, she smiles. Mumbles your name before capturing your lips in a desperate kiss that steals the ability to breathe.

You cup her face in your hands as you give in. A needy whine escapes when she teases you, fingers grazing over blazing heat.

As she pushes forward, her other hand brushes your hair out of your face, and she growls into the kiss. "I can feel how much you want me,"

Your breathing is ragged and a gasp escapes when she enters you with two fingers.

Natasha teases the twitching muscles of your back, tracing the length of your spine. Her touch is light enough to tickle if you weren't concentrating on the fact she's yet to move her finger.

You tighten your legs around her, try to pull her even closer than she already is so you can chase what's just out of reach but she doesn't budge, only smirks at your impatience.

A frustrated huff leaves you as you pull her into another kiss. You whimper when she pulls back enough to exhale against your lips.

"Someone's impatient." She teases you, fingers curling just to see your response. A curse rushes out of your mouth and your thighs twitch.

"Having fun aren't you?" You raise an eyebrow and force a sigh, trying to steady your breathing so she doesn't know exactly how much she's affecting you. It doesn't work.

"Drawing it out makes it so much more," she kissed you again, "enjoyable." The word is a satisfied purr and your knees tremble.

She moves her thumb to press exactly where you ache for her, adding just enough pressure for you to grind against her hand. A curse dies on your tongue with a strangled moan.

Your nails dig into her shoulders as she moves to kiss the spot behind your ear. Natasha chuckles quietly into the sensitive skin, causing you to tremble in her hold.

As soon as she starts to move, as soon as she starts to fuck you in earnest, curling her fingers and whispering praises against your neck, you swear you're going to pass out.

You lean forward and brush your nose against Nat's shoulder, breath hitching when her fingers find a sensitive spot.

As you dig your teeth into her shoulder, the smooth skin muffles your whine as she rolls her hips forward.

You swear your entire body trembles.

"What the hell is taking so - OH MY GOD."

You press your face into Natasha's neck with a groan, embarrassment rising goosebumps on your shoulders as you hug her against you.

A door slams shut and you feel her chuckle at being caught and she bites at your earlobe.

“Focus on me, just me," Natasha murmurs. She brushes her nose against yours as she changes the angle of her hand, adding another finger when you roll your hips and beg for more.

“Please, please, please Nat.” You whimper and you swear you can hear her smirk.

Natasha dips her head to press a kiss to your neck, teeth scraping gently at the bruise she's so proud of. "Are you going to come for me, sweetheart? Come on, I've got you." She coaxes softly.

Natasha tightens her arm around your waist and pulls you into a kiss that makes your head spin and your breath hitch as she brings you over the edge.

The orgasm slams into you hard enough that you see stars. Your choked cry becomes a whimper when she doesn't slow her pace, drawing it out until you can't breathe anymore.

Natasha hums, and kisses your jaw as you bow your head, breathing heavily.

You whine, exhaling softly and you have to actually think as you ease your grip on her waist so Natasha can step back. “Fuck.”

Her fingers glisten in the afternoon light and your lungs refuse to work as she sucks a finger into her mouth. You whimper as you watch her, eyes fixated on her lips.

She smirks when she releases her finger with a pop. Hold your gaze as she continues with her other fingers.

“You’re going to kill me.” You whisper, and a shiver dances along your skin.

She looks impossibly smug.

Your fingers grasp her hip as you watch helplessly.

“Don’t forget to breathe baby,” Natasha reminds you softly.

You suck in a breath as she leans forward, a soft smile on her face and she cups your face, pulling you into a kiss. You moan when you taste yourself on her tongue.

“You… you need to,” You sigh against her lips. “Apologies to Clint.”

“It’s his fault.” She murmurs before kissing you again.

“It’s your fault.” You correct her, looping your arms around her neck to keep her close.

“Cause I’m evil?” She asks with a small smile and you hum in agreement.

"Obviously."

....

[inlovewithfairies]

I'm trying to raise funds for an adventure*, anyone want to commision a fic?

I promise in the last 3 years my writing got way better.

* I do have a day job but bruh our economy is baaaaad these days

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 29 - fatigue

Warnings: none I can think of

Word Count: 1.3k (gif not mine)

Summary: everyone is tired

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist.

.

Maria yawns.

Knocking on Clint’s door, it feels like déjà vu.

To her surprise he’s awake and comes to the door quickly.

“You look like shit,” she tells him bluntly.

“Yeah,” he replies.

She follows him in, worried.

“What happened?” she asks, as he offers her coffee.

She nods, and he makes another pot, standing looking at her with sunken eyes. His movements are clumsy, unlike him.

“You’re not sleeping,” she assumes.

“Nightmares,” he confirms.

Maria nods, her worry deepening.

“Are they getting bad again?”

Clint doesn’t answer, occupying himself with making her a drink.

“Yeah.”

He hands it over and she sips it, not commenting on the strong taste and bitterness of it.

“Stay here,” she offers, “sleep or rest if you can.”

He shakes his head.

“I can’t… I got…”

“Natasha, I know, I can go?”

She can tell how truly shit he feels, because he considers it before refusing again.

Maria sighs.

“How about half a day? I’ll go on to make sure she’s okay, and then you can come in and finish the day?”

Clint looks around, eying the couch.

“I’ll knock you out myself,” she offers.

Clint gives her a half smile.

“Thanks.. I just… there’s these dreams and sometimes they just stick.”

She frowns.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A look of fear passes across Clint’s face, an honest moment, before the relaxed expression returns.

“No, not really,” he answers.

Maria sips her coffee, wincing this time.

“Anything I should know, before I see her?”

Clint looks uncertain.

“She has a letter for Olivia. She wants to get it to her. She said anyone could read it, but I think it’s private. She also went into archives yesterday. I don’t know what information she found, but I don’t think it was what she wanted.”

Maria nods.

“I.. Uhh.. I don’t think she’s sleeping either.”

Maria finishes her coffee and stands.

“Thanks for coming over.”

Maria grabs her keys.

“You’re on the way.”

They both knew it was a lie.

“Just… try and get some sleep okay?”

Clint nods, running his hand over his face and sighing heavily.

“And eat and drink something.”

She stops at the door, “something that’s not coffee.”

He stands with her and pushes air out of his lips in a huff.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches her leave, closing the door gently behind her.

.

Maria thinks now her offering of donuts and coffee for Natasha seems stupid, as she knocks at the door.

She berates herself, moving from foot to foot.

The door opens and she notes the look of surprise on Natasha’s face.

“Your face is looking better,” she tells her, noticing the raw healing skin on her forehead.

“I did a good job.”

The small half smile that Natasha gives is short lived, but returns when she holds up the coffee and donuts.

“Where’s Clint?”

Natasha always seems so even, her voice never raising, but Maria thinks she can tell when she’s worried; her voice goes quieter.

Maria wonders if she knows the tell.

The question is quiet, reserved in its essence, but to Maria it betrays the worry.

“He’s fine. He’s coming in later.”

Natasha opens the door wider, allowing Maria inside.

The space is perfect and neat, like no one lives there. Natasha could leave and they wouldn’t know this had been her room.

She wonders where all the little things are that Clint had given to her.

The small knick knacks are likely hiding somewhere, just not in plain sight.

“Do you want to spar later?” Maria asks on a whim.

Natasha’s face lights up.

“Yes,” she replies, and then, maybe because she replied quickly, “I’d like that.”

Natasha chews on the offered donut, and sips at the piping hot black coffee, and not for the first time, as they sit in silence, Maria wonders if they could be friends.

.

The first hit is tentative.

Maria stops and looks at her.

“What the fuck was that? If you’re going to hit me, just do it.”

Natasha nods.

“Are you sure?”

Maria rolls her eyes.

“Do you need a safe word?”

Natasha's question makes her bark out a laugh.

“You’ve been sparring with Clint?”

Natasha nods.

“His safe word is yellow.”

Maria laughs again.

“Sure, yellow. Three rounds, 3 minutes. That work for you?”

Natasha nods.

They start again.

This time, the punch comes straight, Maria moves to the left and dances back.

It’s clear that Natasha has been trained. In what martial arts? She’s not sure. It seems to be a combination of many, and the integration of all.

She throws a kick, and feels her legs being swept underneath her, falling she grabs onto Natasha, almost climbing her and pulling her down with her.

It almost works.

Natasha pushes back and allows Maria to stand.

They circle each other.

Throw in a series of jabs and punches, hooks and kicks to the body and head, the timer seems to be at a stand still even as the seconds count down.

Maria feels herself become tired.

She’s been slacking.

Her early morning run had only been 3 miles instead of her usual 8, and her weights program was sorely neglected.

Angry at her own poor time management, she makes it to the final round of 3 minutes and groans.

Natasha looks around, finding the drink fountain and moves to go fill two paper cups.

They sip the water in silence, both leaving a puddle of sweat underneath them.

“I’m done,” she announces, laying back, letting her chest heave. Natasha may have kicked her ass, but she feels it wasn’t woeful on her part either.

“That was enough.”

Natasha nods, eyes watching, her breath under control much sooner than Maria’s.

“Thanks,” she replies. “I’ve earned some sleep.”

Maria closes her eyes, choosing to ignore Natasha’s statement and the implication that rest is only earned, and not just a part of the human experience.

“Yeah,” she replies, “me too.”

.

Fury rubs his eyes, removing his patch and flipping it up onto his head.

“What do you think?”

Coulson leans back in the chair, glancing at the proposal, he doesn’t answer, still reading through the document.

“I think I’m tired,” he replies, passing the papers back over and shrugging.

“I think it’s a good idea. You can’t do anything else. You can’t kill her after all she’s done, you can’t send her away, and this might be the only way she’s accepted.”

Fury staples the paper, the large confidential in red over the top of it.

“Well, there’s a long way to go before that happens, but the small strike teams have worked for us before.”

Coulson nods.

Fury stands and heads to his filing cabinet, putting the papers inside.

“I’ll take it to the WSC tomorrow, they’ll agree.”

He holds up a bottle of brown liquid and offers it across to Coulson.

Nodding, Coulson produces two glasses from the cabinet behind him.

“I think she’ll do some good. I mean look at all she’s inadvertently accomplished being locked up? She’s been here just over six months and already we’re better off.”

Fury pours the alcohol.

“Do you think Barton knew what he was getting into?”

Coulson shakes his head.

“Did you?”

Fury replaces his eye patch, his look of intensity returning as he sinks further into his chair.

“No. I don’t suppose I did.”

“I think he’ll be okay. There are worse things than having a widow as a partner.”

“What about Maria?” Coulson asks.

“What about her?”

“She’s too good an agent to not be part of a team.”

Fury considers the words, considers Maria and how efficiently she’s managed everything, from reporting to debrief to mission planning.

The intelligence involved in the way she handled herself.

“You’re going to need someone by your side too,” Coulson reminds him.

Fury sips his drink, the long drag helping him think.

“Yes, I suppose I will.”

The two men sit in the office, the world dark as they continue to talk into the night, though fatigue drags at both of them.

.

[peavhyshy]

- 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 I (𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗔 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗘𝗡 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦)

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: in which you write an article on how to lose someone in ten days to prove to your best friend it's not about looks but about how you act in a relationship.

Warning: n/a

Words: 2,514

Series Masterlist

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 I

❝You seriously think you can get a girl to fall in love with you in just ten days❞

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗠𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗟𝗘 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨��� 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗨𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗢𝗠 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨. You longed for a chance to write about more serious subjects, something that could truly make a difference. Just as you thought you were about to lose your mind in thinking of what your career could be, you noticed your best friend Wanda approaching her cubicle.

Wanda’s red eyes and tear stained cheeks made your heart ache. ‘’Y/N just can’t find the right guy.’ Wanda choked out, trying to hold back her tears. ‘’I mean, is there something wrong with me? Am I just not attractive enough?’

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder. ‘’Girl, you’re gorgeous, any guy with a brain would be lucky to have you. It’s about how you’re always depending on these guys for your happiness and acting a bit… you know needy,’’ You said softly, trying to offer some insight.

Wanda sniffled, dabbing at her green eyes with a tissue you have given her. ‘’Huh, I never thought about it like that.’’

Inspired by Wanda’s situation, You decided to write an article to help Wanda but also to challenge yourself as a writer. ‘’Hey, I’ve got an idea. What If I write an article on how to lose someone in ten days by, like, imitating your behaviors? That way, I can show you it’s not about looks but about how we act in relationships.’’

𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗥, 𝗔 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦. Her boss, David, a middle-aged man with graying hair, raised an eye at her proposal.

‘’You seriously think you can get a girl to fall in love with you in just ten days?’’ he asked skeptically.

Natasha nodded, her green eyes sparkling with determination. ‘’I know I can. And when I do, I want to lead on our next big advertising campaign.’’

Her boss chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘’Alright, Romanoff. You’ve got yourself a bet. But remember, the company ball is in ten days, so you better work fast.’’

Natasha grinned, feeling a bit of thrill at the challenge.

𝗬𝗢𝗨, 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗟𝗘 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗔, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗣𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗜𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗕𝗢𝗦𝗦. You walked the hallway to your boss’s office, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you walked into the office your boss, an older woman with a stern expression, looked up from her computer. ‘’Y/N, what can I do for you?’’ she asked, her voice firm but polite.

You swallowed nervously before speaking up. ‘’I have an idea for an article I’d really like to write. It’s a bit different from my usual ‘how-to’ pieces’ pieces, but I think it could be important and engaging for our readers.’’

Your boss Pepper raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. ‘’Go on.’’

‘’Well, the article would be about how to lose someone in ten days by imitating certain behaviors,’’ You explained, your voice gaining confidence. ‘’I want to show that it’s not about how a women looks but how we act in relationships.’’

Pepper leaned back in her chair considering your proposal, after a moment, she nodded. ‘’Y/N, I like the idea. It’s refreshing and could be a nice change of pace for our magazine. Go ahead and start working on it. I’m looking forward to reading the final piece.’’

You beamed, thrilled that your boss was on board with your idea. ‘’Thank you so much! I won’t let you down.’’

As you left the office, you felt more motivated than ever to write your article.

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗟𝗘 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗖, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗖𝗘, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗖𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗔 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘. You decided to sit down with Wanda at her apartment with some coffee to discuss Wanda’s relationship patterns hoping to come up with the ten steps that could lead to a breakup.

‘’Wanda, I need your help. I want to identify ten behaviors that you think would make someone break up with you. Can you tell me how you’ve acted in your past relationships?’’

Wanda sighed, stirring her coffee thoughtfully. ‘’Well, I guess I’ve been pretty clingy. I always want to be with my partner, like, all the time.’’

‘’Okay,’’ You said, jotting down a note. ‘’That could be Step !: Be overly clingy.’’

Wanda nodded, then continued. ‘’I also get really jealous. I question them about every person they talk to, and I get upset if they want to spend time with their friends.’’

You scribbled more notes. ‘’Step 2: Show excessive jealousy.’’

As you two continued to your conversation you guys made more steps:

Be overly clingy.

Show excessive Jealousy.

Constantly seek validation and reassurance.

Be overly possessive of their time and attention.

Make your partner feel guilty for wanting space.

Ignore your partner’s interests and focus solely on your own.

Be overly critical of your partner’s actions and choices.

Overreact to small issues and turn them into major arguments.

Expect your partner to solve all of your emotional problems. a

Constantly bring up past mistakes, even if they’ve been resolved.

𝗬𝗢𝗨, 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗔, 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗟 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗜𝗠𝗟𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗧 𝗕𝗔𝗥, 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗨𝗡𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗗. The bar atmosphere was lively, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air. You found a table near the back and settled down, ordering drinks.

Across the bar, Natasha sat with her coworkers Clint, Maria, and her boss David, discussing her bet and scanning the bar for a suitable candidate. Clint’s eyes landed on you, who was animatedly chatting with your friends. ‘’How about her?’’ he suggested, nodding in your direction.

Natasha followed her gaze and studied you for a moment. You seemed interesting and confident, and Natasha felt a spark of curiosity. ‘’She could be the one,’’ Natasha agreed, taking a sip of her drink. ‘’I’ll make my move.’’

David leaned back in his chair, smirking. ‘’Good luck, Romanoff. Remember, you only have ten days.’’

Natasha nodded and stood up, smoothing her clothes and taking a breath to steady her nerves. As she approached the table she couldn’t help but notice the warm friendship between the three girls.

‘’Hi,’’ Natasha said, flashing a charming smile at you. ‘’I’m Natasha. Mind if I join you?’’

You looked up, your eyes meeting Natasha’s, and you felt a flutter of surprise at the sudden introduction. ‘’Uh, sure. I’m Y/N, and these are my friends Wanda and Carol.’’

As Natasha settled into her seat, you were the first one to break the ice. ‘’So, Natasha, what brings you the bar tonight?’’

Natasha smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘’Well, my coworkers and I were just unwinding after a long day at the office. How about you?’’

Carol chimed in, taking a sip of her drink. ‘’We’re doing the same, just trying to relax a bit. What do you work in?’’

Natasha hesitated for a moment. ‘’I work in advertising. It’s pretty exciting most of the time, bur it can be stressful too.’’

Wanda nodded understandingly. ‘’I can imagine. Y/N, Carol, and I both work at an magazine, so we know a thing or two about stress.’’

At one point, Carol brought a recent article you had written. ‘’Y/N’s last piece on the best local coffee shops was fantastic. You should give it a read, Natasha. She’s a talented writer.’’

Natasha smiled, faking interest. ‘’I’ll definitely look it up. I’m always on the hunt for a good coffee shop.’’

As the night went on, you guys had a good time laughing, sharing stories, and enjoying a few too many drinks. You felt the effects of too many drinks and began to sway unsteadily on your feet.

Natasha, noticing your condition, decided to step in and help. ‘’Hey, Y/N, you look like you might need a hand. Let me walk you to your car.’’

You were ever so grateful for the assistance leaned on Natasha as you made your way out of the bar. ‘’Thanks, Natasha.’’

‘’Don’t mention it,’’ Natasha replied, her voice warm and friendly. ‘’We all have those nights.’’

As you guys reached your car, Natasha helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were comfortable before closing the door. Natasha scribbled her number on a piece of paper and handed it to you. ‘’I had a really great time tonight. If you’re ever up for it, maybe we could go on a proper date sometime.’’

Your checks flush as you take the paper with a smile. ‘’I’d like that, Natasha. I had a great time too.’’

With a final wave, Natasha closed the door and watched as you called a rideshare to take you home safely.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗭𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗘, 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗕𝗢𝗦𝗦, 𝗣𝗘𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗦, 𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗬𝗘𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗨𝗦𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗨𝗣𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗟𝗘𝗦. The room was buzzing with energy as everyone was prepared to share their ideas.

Pepper started the workshop, her voice confident and authoritative. ‘’Alright, everyone, let’s get started, I want to hear about the articles you’re working on and get a sense of how things are going, Who wants to go first?’’

Jane Foster, a science writer, eagerly raised her hand. ‘’I’m working on an article about sustainable energy solutions for the future. I think it’s going to be really informative and eye-opening.’’

As each employee shared their ideas, the atmosphere in the room became more open and calm. Shuri starts to speak animatedly. ‘’My article is about the intersection of technology and fashion. I’ve been exploring some cutting-edge designs that incorporate smart fabric and wearable tech. It’s fascinating!’’

Darcy says with a grin on her face. ‘’I’m working on a piece about the most bizarre scientific discoveries of the year. Did you know that scientists recently found a species of fish that can walk on land.

‘’No way! That’s insane, Darcy. Can’t wait to read it.’’ Carol says, smiling at Darcy.

‘’That sounds amazing, Darcy. It’s such a amazing topic and to think I’m boring you guys with my ‘how-to’ articles.’’ You say, impressed.

Finally, it’s Wanda’s turn to speak. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes filling with tears as she began to talk about her article on navigating heartbreak and healing after a breakup. ‘’I’m writing about… how to heal after a breakup,’’ Wanda’s voice broke, and she wiped away a tear. ‘’It’s something I’ve been going through a lot of recently, and I think sharing my experience could help others.’’

The room went silent, and Carol reached out to place a comforting hand on Wanda's shoulder. ‘’I’m sorry, Wanda. We’re all here for you.’’

You chimed in, your voice supportive. ‘’Your article is going to help a lot of people, Wanda. You’re doing something really brave by sharing your story. And that’s why I’m writing my how to lose somebody in ten days article’’

Wanda nodded grateful for the support of her friends and co-workers, Pepper spoke up, ‘’Thank you for sharing, Wanda. It’s important for us to cover a wide range of topics, and your honesty will resonate with our readers.’’

Everyone shared their ideas and got feedback and the workshop actually proved to be productive.

𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗦𝗔𝗧 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗥, 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗗𝗢𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗔𝗝𝗔𝗥 𝗔𝗦 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗧 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗪𝗔𝗬, 𝗕𝗢𝗧𝗛 𝗗𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡.

‘’So, Nat, you’ve got ten days to make someone fall in love with you, and then lose them,’’ Clint said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘’What’s your plan?’’

Natasha sighed, tapping her prn against the notepad on her desk. ‘’I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve come up with a few steps that should do the trick.’’

Clint raised an eyebrow, curious. ‘’Alright, let’s hear them.’’

Natasha began listing her ideas.

First, I need to reel them in. Show genuine interest in their life, be charming and attentive.

Next, I’ll start to open up about my own life. Share personal stories to build trust and connection.

Then, I’ll plan a romantic date. Something special and memorable to really solidify the bond.

After that, I’ll start to become a bit needy. Text and call more frequently, maybe even show up unannounced.

For step five, I’ll start to become overly possessive. Question their friendships, demand more of their time.

With step six, I’ll introduce some jealousy. Flirt with someone else in their presence, just enough to make them doubt my loyalty.

Next, I’ll pick fights over trivial things.

For step eight, I’ll become a bit controlling. Start making decisions for them, and criticize their choices.

Then, I’ll drop the bomb. Reveal a secret that could potentially shatter their trust in me

Finally, when they’re at their breaking point, I’ll push them away for good. Make it clear that I’m not the right person for them.

Clint nodded slowly, impressed by Natasha’s thorough plan. ‘’Well, that sounds like a sure way to lose someone. But are you sure you want to go through with this? It seems like an awful lot of emotional manipulation.’’

Natasha hesitated for a moment thinking back to her pleasant encounter with you the other night. ‘’I know it’s not ideal, but I have to win this bet. It’s about more than just pride and getting the next big advertising campaign. It’s about proving that I can succeed at any challenge.’’

𝗔 𝗙𝗘𝗪 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥, 𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗗𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗩𝗘, 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗨𝗣 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨.

Natasha: Hey! Y/N It’s Natasha from the other night. I hope you’ve recovered from the other night. I was wondering if you’d like to join me at a boxing match this Friday? I think it could be a fun first date.

You: Hi, Natasha! I’m feeling much better, thanks for asking. A boxing match sounds like a great idea! I’m in!

When Friday arrived, you and Natasha met outside the arena, both excited. As you took your seats you decided it was time to start implementing your plan. You glanced at Natasha, putting your first step into action being overly demanding. ‘’Natasha, I’m really thirsty. Can you go grab me some sparkling water? I don’t want to miss the beginning of the match.’’

Natasha, determined to show her charming and attentive side of her plan, agreed without hesitation. ‘’Of course! I’ll be right back.’’

Natasha returned to the seats just as the match was about to start, a sparkling water in hand. You looked at her apologetically. ‘’Actually, I changed my mind. Can you get me a soda instead?’’

Trying to not show her frustration, Natasha plastered a smile and headed back to the concession stand. Throughout the night, you continued to be demanding, asking Natasha to fetch you snacks and making her miss the crucial moments of the match. Natasha worked hard to be attentive and understanding.

As you left the arena, You smiled, ‘’Thanks for tonight, Natasha. I had a great time, despite my many requests.’’

Natasha smiled and shrugged. ‘’No problem, Y/N. I enjoyed it too.’’

You said your goodbyes and parted ways.

[moiravim]

Widow friends

PLATONIC Yelena Belova x GN!Reader

•Yelena met you from her sister. You worked with Natasha and the avengers for a few years but since endgame you've spent most of your time with Yelena.

•You and Yelena work together than usual friends. The second you two met you just clicked. You're opposites and similar at the same time.

•Yelena is protective of you and uses the excuse 'it's what Nat would've wanted'. For example, when a group of friends were harassing you and Yelena cussed them out, scaring them off.

•You try giving Yelena a better taste in food but she insists Mac and cheese with hot sauce is the best.

•During the events of the Hawkeye series, you being in denial over the fact of Clint killing Natasha. Yelena convincing you it's true, pretty much manipulating you.

When the truth comes out she'll apologize for any arguments caused by her but will refuse to say you were right.

•Having 'sleepovers' every night up to the point where your roommates.

•"Can I make dinner tonight?" Yelena asks with excitement in her voice. "As long as you don't make Mac and cheese with hot sauce...". She made mac and cheese with hot sauce. (This most definitely happened).

•Every once in a while she'll get nightmares or flashbacks of Natasha and you'll have to comfort her.

•Over all, you and Yelena are an inseparable pair. The two of you get along better than any of the other avengers and will always stick together.

[justiceiswater]

sweet babies! so soft and precious and full of hesitant glances and touches. i love the slow and steady pressure nat put on her so she didnt scare her off. gently hitting on her lol

Sweet

Summary: (Natasha x  shy!reader) Your old friend Sam recruits your help for a low-key work party, ya know, at the Avengers Compound. Of course you’re the type of soft-hearted civvie that could fall head over heels for a particular red-headed assassin while you’re there.

Prompt/Request: This is not exactly the silly drunken interaction @whyhello-there requested… There are drinks and it’s lighthearted, but it’s more a bunch of sober spies being cute than it is drunk shenanigans.

Warnings: A little swearing, FLUFF

Word Count: 2518

Keep reading

[chaxan08]

Yelena: Our relationship is strictly professional.

Kate, sitting on Yelena's lap: Absolutely, only business.

[just-aake]

Flustered Crushes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The Black Widow does not get flustered. So why is it that Natasha can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of you?

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2795

At the edge of the bustling hangar bay, Natasha leans against the cold, metallic wall, her arms folded tightly, a faint frown etched across her brow as her sharp gaze observes the scene unfolding before her. 

Near the base of the Quinjet’s ramp, you are engaged in animated conversation with Carol Danvers, who happened to arrive at the compound for a quick visit precisely when you returned from your mission.  

You've been with the Avengers for a few months now, a former SHIELD agent seamlessly adjusting to the team dynamics. 

Over time, you've connected with everyone—including her. 

So, Natasha’s made an extra effort to help you feel welcome. 

Clint often teases her about her behavior, insisting her attentiveness borders on something more personal, something like a…crush. 

Natasha dismisses his comments each time with a roll of her eyes. 

She’s just being nice. 

After all, it's only natural to want a solid, dependable relationship with a new teammate, especially someone she'll be working closely with.

That’s the only reason why she came to greet you when you return from your mission.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she stands there, alone, on the sidelines…not with you. 

Natasha watches Carol say something that makes you laugh, causing her faint frown to deepen.

The flash of amusement in your eyes as Carol grins back makes Natasha roll her eyes and look away, unable to take the sight anymore as a pang of irritation tightens in her chest.

She tries to shake it off, but it doesn’t disappear.

After all, it’s not like she got here an hour before your scheduled return and waited to see you…just to end up watching as the blonde space beauty swoop in, effortlessly captivating your attention.

Deciding she’s had enough, Natasha pushes herself off the wall, preparing to leave.

However, her abrupt movement catches others around her off guard, and she ends up bumping into a passing cart loaded with tools and equipment. 

A clattering sound echoes across the hangar as wrenches and bolts spill onto the floor. 

Natasha curses softly under her breath, a mix of pain and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she drops to gather the scattered items, apologizing hastily to the technician she collided with before quickly exiting the area.

In her haste, she doesn’t notice your gaze, the subtle smile tugging at your lips as you follow her with amused eyes, tracking her every flustered move across the hangar bay, even as she slips away without a backward glance.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So, how’s it going with your crush?” Clint asks, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Natasha.

Natasha shoots him a warning look that would strike fear into the most fearsome of villains.

Without a word, she grabs the coffee pot, filling his mug before pouring some for herself. She replaces the pot with a decisive click.

“There is no crush,” she states firmly, taking a sip as though punctuating her denial.

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks skeptically before continuing, “Whenever Y/n’s around, it’s like you lose all of your charm and coolness.” 

Natasha gives him an unimpressed glare. 

“Really? Coolness? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Clint smirks, raising his mug in mock salute.

“Ask me again after I finish this coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, holding her mug close, feeling the warm comfort seep into her hands.

Just as she brings it to her lips, the doors swing open, and Tony strolls into the kitchen, spotting them with their drinks. 

“Oh, coffee! Pour me a cup, Romanoff.”

“Pour your own,” Natasha mutters, savoring her next sip. 

Tony feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. 

“FRIDAY, remind me, who owns this building?” 

“You do, sir,” the AI replies smoothly. 

Tony gestures upward triumphantly at her before pointing towards the kitchen. 

“So, technically, that machine is mine, the beans are mine, and...oh, right, that pot of coffee is also mine.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes but eventually reaches for the pot, lifting it begrudgingly.

Tony holds out his mug with a victorious grin. 

But just as she hovers the pot above his cup, she stops short.

“A ‘please’ once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he gasps in exaggerated disbelief as Natasha raises a brow in expectation.

Huffing, he mutters, “Can I have some coffee, please?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Natasha quips with a smirk, preparing to pour him his coffee.

At that moment, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal you, fresh from your morning workout, dressed in your training gear.

You walk by the kitchen, spotting the other Avengers gathered around. 

A delighted smile spreads across your face. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some, too?” 

Natasha’s response is instant. 

“Sure, I’ll make you a new pot.” 

Her tone is warmer than usual, surprising even herself.

You beam at her, and Natasha feels herself pause, momentarily captivated by the sight. Distracted, she almost misses your following words. 

“Thanks, Natasha! Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

You slip through the doors, leaving Natasha blinking, still trying to regain her composure. 

Tony watches with raised eyebrows. 

“Wait a second—she didn’t even say ‘please,’ and you’re making her a whole new pot?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she holds the pot just out of reach of Tony’s mug. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” 

Tony grumbles before muttering a grudging “Yes, please.” 

Satisfied, Natasha pours the coffee, keeping her focus steady. 

“Natasha?” your voice catches her off guard, and she glances up to see you poking your head back into the room. 

“Yes?” she replies a little too quickly, immediately focusing on you. 

Both Clint and Tony fall silent, watching the two of you with curious eyes. 

“Steve’s got a mission tomorrow,” you explain. “Would you mind if I train with you in the meantime?”

Natasha’s mind races for a moment before she steadies herself to answer.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Anytime you want.” 

“Great!” you say enthusiastically before glancing worriedly at the counter. “I think that’s enough coffee.” 

Natasha follows your gaze, eyes widening as she realizes Tony’s cup is overflowing, dark liquid pooling across the counter. She yanks the pot away with a muttered curse. 

“Oh sh—!”

Tony steps back just in time, glaring down at his soaked countertop.

“Really, Romanoff? This is a new suit!” 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grabs paper towels, unruffled by his dramatics. 

“Calm down, it barely even touched you.”

You let out a small laugh. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, shooting her a smile as you exit.

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her attention lingering on the door.

Clint chuckles as he takes another sip, eyeing her knowingly. 

“You’re right, Nat. It’s not a crush,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s way worse.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha flashes one of her most charming smiles, leaning just slightly forward as the receptionist fumbles through her files, cheeks tinged with a rosy hue under Natasha’s intense gaze. 

“Here you go!” the receptionist says, her voice soft as she hands over a key card. “I’m sorry again for the mix-up.”

Natasha’s fingers rest lightly over the receptionist’s hand as she accepts the card, her eyes warm and a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

“No problem at all,” she replies, her tone smooth. “I don’t mind the delay with such lovely company.” 

The receptionist blushes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giving Natasha a flustered smile. 

Natasha’s confident smirk grows as she watches her charms take effect. 

Quick and efficient, she slips the USB drive from the computer, seamlessly hiding it under her palm as it rests over the key card. For a moment, she feels pleased with herself, effortlessly pulling off her usual charisma.

See, she thinks to herself, Clint has no idea what he’s talking about—she’s got plenty of charm.

“Nice job, Natasha,” your voice suddenly crackles in her earpiece, startling her. 

Her hand slips in surprise, almost knocking over the items on the counter. She turns it into a casual adjustment, but not before the receptionist gives her a curious look. 

Natasha quickly smiles, grabbing the key card and offering a polite nod before walking away toward a secluded corner of the lobby.

Pressing a finger to her comms, she mutters, “Y/n? Where’s Clint?” 

“He had to step out for a minute,” you answer. “He asked me to take over. Is that okay?” 

“No–I mean—yes, of course,” Natasha says, the words tumbling out a bit too quickly. 

She straightens, running a hand through her hair as she tries to regain her composure. It’s not like she hadn’t expected you to assist with missions, but the thought of you watching her…

She tamps down the sudden flutter in her chest and forces herself to stay focused.

“Your next target is on the same floor as the key card you just picked up,” you continue, your voice warm and steady in her ear. 

“Got it.” 

“I’ll explain what you’re looking for.”

Natasha nods and begins striding toward the elevators, hoping her sudden focus will drown out the distraction of your voice in her head. 

She tells herself it’s just a mission—professional, routine.

But now, with you guiding her through the next steps, each word falling from your lips makes it harder for her to maintain her usually calm, steady demeanor. 

Her heart beats a little faster, and her cheeks feel a bit warmer than they should. She brushes off the thoughts and keeps walking, determined to stay cool and collected.

“Um…Natasha?”

She stops mid-step. “Hmm?”

“You’re…going the wrong way.”

Natasha freezes, blinking in surprise. She glances around, realizing she’s heading in the opposite direction from the elevators.

A wave of embarrassment sweeps over her as she lets out a quiet curse under her breath.

“Right,” Natasha says, turning with as much dignity as she can muster, her face heating as she finally heads in the correct direction.

Oh, she thinks to herself, she’s definitely going to kill Clint.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha steps out of her room, her leather jacket slung over one arm as she adjusts the zipper. 

Your voice calls her name from down the hall, catching her off guard and making her slam the door shut in a startled motion. She spins to face you, only to be tugged back by an unexpected resistance.

Natasha looks down with a sigh, spotting her jacket sleeve caught in the door. Tugging at it proves ineffective, as it stays firmly wedged in place.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Natasha hastily shoves the jacket behind her back, trying to appear composed. She leans casually against the door, hoping the awkward moment has gone unnoticed.

“Hey,” you greet with a warm smile as you reach her.

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha replies, attempting a relaxed tone.

You eye her with a hint of curiosity. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Natasha says quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Just, um, examining the door. Thought it could use a closer look.”

Your brows raise in amused surprise at her peculiar explanation, but you let it go. 

“Well, once you’re done with that,” you say, playing along, “I made a reservation at that new place downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“Just the two of us?” The words slip out before Natasha can stop herself. 

A flicker of excitement and amusement crosses your face as you nod. 

“Yeah, just us,” you say softly.

Natasha’s heart gives a small flutter, but she maintains her composure. 

“I’d love to,” she says, a smile slipping through despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“Great, it’s a date,” you say, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the garage.” With a playful smirk, you add, “After you finish your ‘inspection,’ of course.”

As you walk toward the elevator, Natasha watches you with a lingering smile.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally frees her jacket and heads to the garage a few minutes later, finding you waiting by her motorcycle.

You hop on behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist in a snug embrace. 

The warmth of your presence makes her feel a fluttering sensation in her chest she can’t shake. Distracted, Natasha blindly reaches for her helmet and slips it on—only to be met with complete darkness.

With a soft sigh, Natasha’s head drops to her chest, realizing she put it on backward. 

The chuckle that escapes your lips behind her is quickly muffled as you clear your throat, your hands reaching to help her. 

You gently remove the helmet, your fingers brushing her cheek as you pull it off.

When Natasha glances back, she catches the playful look in your eyes as you bite back a grin.

Seeing this, Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen and start over? I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

You laugh, unable to hold back anymore. 

“Oh, I know all about the smooth and charming Black Widow,” you say, your gaze warm and teasing. “But I think this side of you is pretty cute too.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks at your words, and Natasha takes the helmet, this time slipping it on correctly, with a soft smile she can’t quite hide anymore.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s another one of Tony’s famous parties, where glittering lights reflect off polished floors and music pulses softly through the spacious hall. 

In the middle of the dance floor, beneath the warm glow, Natasha sways with you, her hands resting gently on your waist as you move together to the rhythm of the soft melody. 

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in and drawing her closer until your lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Natasha smiles softly against your lips, and as you pull back, she rests her forehead gently against yours, eyes half-closed in a moment of quiet contentment. 

Even as the music fades into the background, her hands remain firm on your waist, as if she has no intention of letting go.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” you suggest, glancing over at the bar lined with sparkling glasses.

Natasha only pulls you closer, her fingers brushing lightly along the small of your back as she murmurs, “Or…we could stay right here and have another dance.” 

Her voice is a soft suggestion, and she leans in slightly, her green eyes filled with warmth and alluring charm.

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across your lips. 

“It’s cute how you’re trying to be smooth.”

Natasha’s expression shifts, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, though the faintest blush colors her cheeks.

With a playful glint in your eye, you tilt your head at her in challenge. 

“How long has your bracelet been stuck to my dress?” you ask, giving her a teasing look.

Natasha glances away, the blush deepening as she realizes she’s been caught. She’s spent the past few moments subtly trying to free her wrist from your dress, but to no avail.

“In my defense,” she murmurs, attempting to deflect, “you distracted me with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You chuckle softly at her excuse, reaching up to pull her even closer. With a playful grin, you press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning in to whisper against her ear.

“Think of the bright side—if you can’t get it loose, I’m sure you could just rip this dress off me.”

Natasha’s breath catches, and for a split second, she’s utterly still, her mind stalling at the suggestion. 

You pull back just enough to watch her expression, and a delighted smile grows on your face as she stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered, clearly caught off guard.

It only takes her a moment to catch on, her eyes narrowing in realization as she shakes her head with a playful huff. 

“You’re trying to embarrass me on purpose,” she accuses, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Unashamed, you bite back a laugh and nod. 

“It’s nice to see the calm and collected Black Widow all flustered for once.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a smirk as she pulls you flush against her, her free hand sliding up your back, fingers grazing along your spine. She leans in, her lips just a breath away from yours, the warmth of her gaze intense.

“Only for you,” she murmurs, her voice a hushed promise before closing the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes you forget the world around you, the room fading away as you melt into each other’s embrace.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a short fluff with a soft Natasha that I had finished some time ago. after everything that has happened yesterday and today, I wanted to give some kind of happier distraction, even if it may be only a temporary escape from everything. I’m still going between disbelief, sadness, and anger myself about the situation while also trying to be prepared to continue on. But hopefully, this was able to bring some of you some sort of break from everything else.

[writing-house-of-m]

Falling for you

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha is in love with you and decides to tell you

A/N: I was so impressed with myself when I came up with the title lol The request can be found here. Comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

Prompt: "Oh, I'm falling in love."

"It was when I saw you giving flowers to Wanda once. I saw the gesture and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The way you looked at her. I wanted someone to look at me like that. I learned afterwards not 'someone,' I wanted you to look at me like that.

"It was as if my mind held up a queue card telling me how I felt about you. I realised, 'Oh, I'm falling in love,' but the more I thought about it the more I realised I've been in love with you for a while and I didn't know what to do."

Natasha started speaking after you made a joke about her playing hide and seek. Nobody knew where she was when you noticed her missing for a while and got curious where she might have been. She was looking out at the view motionless before you got there for you don't know how long.

You regret making your joke.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. Maybe because I'm sick of holding it all in.

"In the red room it was always 'love is just something used to brainwash childish minds', 'A chemical reaction, nothing more' and for the longest time I agreed. I have never experienced it before and didn't think I ever would…

"Until you."

She looks at you emotionally. It's the most vulnerable you have seen her. The 'Black Widow' on the verge of tears because of you,

"Natasha,"

And there is nothing you can say to make her feel better.

"I do love you, just not in the same way. I'm really sorry," you see in the way Natasha drops her head, the devastation she is feeling, "but my heart will always belong to Wanda."

She lets out a sad laugh, looking out at the setting sun in the horizon, orange and pink painting the sky, "Figures," she scoffs, "the person I fall for, already taken," she says, sniffling.

There are a few moments of tense silence before you decide to break it, in hopes to lighten the mood a little, "Well, if it's any consolation Wanda aspires to have your 'hot bod'," you jest, then raise your hands and eyebrows innocently, "her words, not mine."

It does make her laugh but shortly after, silence prevails and you both bask in it. You stay there in each others presence long after darkness takes over and white dots fill the night sky.

…

Shortly after your conversation on the roof you move out of the compound. It was something you and Wanda had been discussing anyway but you thought it would be easier for Natasha if you weren't there. To you it would have felt like you were rubbing your relationship in her face after her confession. But for Natasha, she missed seeing you everyday.

As always life continues, work takes over. Your time together is reduced to when you are assigned to the same missions. Natasha realises quickly her feelings for you will never falter. So she makes the most of the time she gets with you.

It doesn't take long for that to be taken from her as well.

…

Natasha felt your presence missing from this world. Prior to everything that happened, you hadn't been at the compound for the longest time but at least she knew you were out there and happy. But now? There was a gaping hole in the shape of you that was missing and it was unfair for everyone, not just herself.

It is why she makes the decision to go to Vormir.

The world is better with you in it.

Even if she won't be here to witness it.

As she is falling to her demise, the sound of wind rushing past her ears she closes her eyes to see your smiling face.

The memory of you stood on the rooftop trying to make her laugh. The picture can be compared to a piece of artwork with the way the warm setting sunlight hits off your skin and makes your eyes shine.

Natasha is glad to have such a picturesque image of you in her final seconds that she can find comfort in behind her eyelids.

Despite the cold climate and the circumstances her body is filled with warmth knowing she is the reason there is the possibility to bring you back. At least then you will have a chance at starting that family you and Wanda announced.

As that final image slips away along with her consciousness, Natasha thinks about the fact that even though she could never have you. You always had her.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐨

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: listened to juno in the car and had this idea 😋

summary: based on the song by sabrina carpenter (you babytrap nat); g!p nat, college!au, natasha's kind of a fuckboy

warnings: contains quite a bit of smut (hence the 18+ tag), babytrapping (= mildly toxic relationship?), buff athlete nat because that’s a warning in itself

word count: 11k (i fear it’s gotten impossible for me to write anything under 5k words lol)

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Initiating public sex in front of your friends should never be a good idea.

When you're as bored as you are right now, though, that opinion quickly begins to waver.

Hand under your shirt, your head on her shoulder. The movie you're watching is one you haven't seen before. Teen pregnancy, Michael Cera, indie soundtracks, yawn. You sigh, first quietly, then a little louder.

Natasha's nose brushes against your temple. Her hand travels higher up, fingers grazing your bra.

"Not a fan?", she mumbles. You lean into her, feeling her bicep against your shoulder. "We can ditch them."

"No." It's been a while since you last had time to spend with your friends. It's also been a while since you didn't sneak off early to fuck each other brainless. "Let's stay", you say, turning your head. "At least so we can see whether they actually fall for each other."

"No offense, but who would fall for that guy? Even I would look better in those shorts."

"Don't disrespect Michael", you mumble, smiling. "Also, you'd need bigger ones to fit everything, babe."

In front of you, Clint rolls his eyes. He lets out the longest sigh known to man and turns his head, his expression lacking any amusement whatsoever. He should be used to this kind of behavior, but to be fair, he just wants one night where your shameless PDA doesn't ruin everything.

"Alright", he says. "One more comment like that and-"

"God, you're a prude." She throws her empty red solo cup at him and he jumps up. "Chill."

He directs one last warning glare at you both, then he plops back down onto the floor. As soon as he's distracted again — drinking beer, talking to his girlfriend — she pulls you closer. Your hand finds her lower stomach, gently pressing against it.

Her breath hits your ear when she exhales, hot and slow. Your hand moves a little lower. Not too far, just enough to flirt with the limit. Her fingers curl into the soft skin of your stomach.

She doesn't say anything, though. Your fingertips dance over the fabric of her sweatpants. They graze the bulge there, prominent even when she's not hard, before finally cupping it. A sharp breath escapes her.

Still, she doesn't stop you. Her eyes stay glued to the screen, where Juno is currently giving birth. The way she's staring makes it seem like she's actually invested in what's happening, but you know the truth. One wrong move, and she'll either embarrass herself — or ruin her pants.

Or both. Most likely both.

You already look irresistible enough, wearing that sinfully short skirt. With your legs tucked under your butt and your vanilla perfume clouding her senses, your hand on her cock can only lead to a disaster.

"Y/N", she whispers through gritted teeth. You palm her crotch and feel her harden.

"Mhm?" You lean in and press your lips to her jaw. Red lipstick stains her skin. It's a sight so satisfying that you keep trailing kisses across her cheek.

Natasha closes her eyes. A noise, muffled and quiet, gets stuck in her throat. You scoff and move your hand to wrap your fingers around her length, only the fabric of her clothes separating you.

"What is it?", you ask, giving a few testing strokes. She shakes her head and you finally hear that soft whimper you'd been waiting for. "Aw, poor baby. All worked up."

In front of you, Steve mumbles something. He gets up, but before he can turn around and catch Natasha and you in this compromising situation, you move and quickly sit on her lap.

Bad idea. This might be worse than the almost-handjob you were about to give her.

Steve doesn't notice anything, but you do. Her head falls forward to lean against your shoulder, her hands grip your waist. You shift and grind against her boner, feeling her tip rub against the wet patch on your panties. At least your skirt hides everything.

You rub against her with more insistence, eyes closing. Her cock, though still clothed, fits perfectly between your folds. If you try hard enough, you can pretend she's inside of you.

"Fuck", she moans. You reach behind you to squeeze her, squeeze any part of her you can reach. "Fuck, I'll come."

Clint pauses, then slowly turns his head. You go completely still, eyes fixed on the tv and your hands folded in your lap. He knows you better than to believe this little act you're putting on, though.

You're surprised he doesn't drag you out by your collars, but you get sent back to your dorms anyway.

"Idiot", you say, grabbing the front of her letter jacket. You pull her into a deep kiss, her hands roaming your body. Salt and butter, sugar and green apple. The snacks of the evening created an addictive taste, and you silently thank Clint for not getting garlic knots again.

"You started it", she pants, trailing her lips down your neck. Your back hits the wall of the dormitory, her hard-on pressing against your hip. Her hand disappears under your skirt and palms your crotch, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties. You're dripping down your thighs. "And I'll end it. Fuck."

You moan, the sound a little too obvious. It's quiet outside, apart from the occasional hum of car engines in the distance. Due to it being a Tuesday night, there are no parties. Most people are either in their dorms or pulling an all-nighter in the library. If anyone's got their window open, they'll hear you.

Natasha sinks her teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, a little louder, and she shushes you by nudging your panties aside with her fingers.

"Quiet", she mumbles, voice gentle like a praise. "Quiet for me, baby."

You writhe when she pushes two fingers into you. They slip in easily, your folds slick with wet heat, and immediately begin thrusting into you. You buck your hips to meet her movements, but she pulls out before you can even get started.

"Hey", you protest, ignoring the fact that she's already got her arm wrapped around you. Fingers in her mouth to lick off excess moisture, she pulls you toward the entrance. "Nat, I'm horny."

"Where's your roommate again?"

"Huh?" You frown, then lightly slap her chest. "Right! Good call."

She laughs quietly, the sound rough and strained, and walks up the stairs. Her hand moves to dip under your skirt. She gropes your ass, kneading the flesh. "I seriously don't know how you got into college, baby."

"Wow. Here I was, considering head tonight, and you made me change my mind."

"Oh, please." She pushes open the door and walks you to the bed. As soon as she's seated, you straddle her and wrap your arms around her neck. Her hands are under your shirt before you can even kiss her. Her tongue brushes against the seam of your lips and you open your mouth.

You grind against her boner, which only makes the ache between your legs worse. Natasha breaks the kiss to tug off your top. Her eyes dart a little lower, zeroing in on your chest. Full breasts, spilling out of a lacy bra with tiny hearts embroidered in it.

Her face sinks to bury itself between your boobs. You feel wet kisses on your skin.

"Taste so good."

"Nat."

"So soft."

"Nat."

She huffs, but doesn't look up. Her hands move your hips, making you rub against her cock. The crotch of her sweatpants is stained with a little wet patch. "What?"

"I want you to fuck me, not make out with my breasts all night long."

You feel the heat of her cheeks. Smirking faintly, you run your hand into her hair.

"Screw you."

"I'm trying." You twist a strand of her hair around your finger and tug. "Come on. I thought of a new position we could try."

That manages to make her look up, though she seems skeptic. It's almost like a game you've been playing — who can come up with the wildest position? Anything counts, as long as it leads to at least one of you having an orgasm.

"You better not disappoint this time", she says and kisses your jaw. Her hands splay out on your ass, fingertips brushing under the fabric of your panties. "That last one was a letdown."

You hum. You have to agree with her here — sidesaddle riding doesn't work no matter how you interpret it, apparently.

"This one's good", you say, getting off her lap. She groans.

"We could pause the game", she pleads, making puppy dog eyes at you. It's a fun game, sure, but sometimes, she wants to see your face while she fucks you. "Just tonight."

You tilt your head at her, eyebrows raised in silent approval for her to keep going.

"I'll let you top", Natasha adds. That's enough for you to be sold.

. . .

When you wake up, it's because of someone knocking on the door.

At first, you don't notice it. Too tight is sleep's grip on you, too warm is your bed. You're curled into Natasha, her arms wrapped around you and holding you close. But then they knock again, more insistently this time, and you sigh.

You squint to block out the sun and get up, stepping over the empty ramen cups you discarded on the floor after a late-night craving. Behind you, Natasha mutters something and rolls over. You slip into a loose shirt and open the door.

Randy, your resident advisor, pauses when he sees you. Messy hair, a thin shirt that barely reaches your thighs, your neck littered with marks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Yes?", you drawl. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His freckled face flushes pink and he coughs. "Come on, I don't have all morning."

"There, uhm- there was a noise complaint", he says, fingers drumming against the clipboard he for some reason always carries around. "From one of the other students."

You give him a blank stare. "Okay?"

"No, not okay. Look, I don't care what you do in your free time, but maybe keep it down? The walls are quite thin, and the excessive noise, uh..." He sighs, eyes flitting down your body again. He shifts awkwardly, clipboard angled a bit, and you realize that he's trying to conceal a certain problem he's run into.

If the situation was different, you'd be irritated. But watching Randy, the 30-something guy who started working here two years ago, stumble over his own words and stutter like a nervous first grader, is too amusing to genuinely get pissed.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Deep breaths, honey. Don't faint on me."

He tries to glare at you, but fails miserably. "Y/N, I'm being serious. Others want to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll tell Nat."

Behind you, Natasha groans into your pillow. "Tell them to mind their own business", she mutters, voice rough with sleep. "Or move the fuck out."

He briefly peeks into the room, then directs his attention toward you again. You give him a challenging look.

"Nat", he repeats. The way he says her name does manage to irritate you now. You know what others think of her. You also know they're not entirely wrong. "Oh, yeah, fine. Good."

"Good", you repeat, stepping back with one hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and Randy? I know you've been getting, like, zero action lately, but I just woke up. Not even you can be that desperate. Maybe touch some grass?"

He lets out a choked sound. Before he can say anything, you wave two fingers at him and close the door.

"Buh-bye!", you call, just before the door snaps in. You twirl around and spot Natasha, still half asleep and sprawled out on your bed. Her red hair is loose for once, messy and soft, and you ignore the urge to get back into bed with her.

She hums, stretching like a cat, all lazy smiles and toned arms. An admittedly enticing sight. "Got rid of him?"

"Oh yeah." You run your hand along her arm. "I kinda feel bad for the guy."

"Don't. He's a creep." She puts her hand on the back of your thigh, tugging on it. If you didn't know better, you'd think she's scared you'll just slip away. "Feel bad for me. The abandoned girlfriend."

You huff, not budging. You'd love to go back to bed, but you have other things to do.

"Classes", you remind her, turning away. You take off your shirt and she groans. "Shower, too." Your panties follow. This time, she lets out a full blown moan.

You turn around and give her an unimpressed (albeit slightly amused) look. "And that is why we got a noise complaint."

"Come on", she whines. "Not even professors like their own classes. You can afford ten more minutes, baby. I won't even make you put on your clothes again."

"You say that like it's supposed to benefit me."

"It benefits both of us." Natasha grunts and finally sits up, slouching. Her arms are crossed over her lap as her eyes travel up and down your body. It takes you a second to realize why.

She tilts her head, cheeks pink. The expression on her face is both guilty and hopeful, like she's weighing her odds. A productive day or a few more minutes — maybe hours, if she plays her cards right — in bed with her?

Her chances aren't looking too bad.

"You can't be serious", you deadpan. Of course, she is.

"I'll be quick."

"You're never quick!"

"You can't blame me for that", she retorts. "God, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you for the next few hours?"

"Next few 'hours'? Babe, you have practice today. Plus, I wanted to go shopping."

Natasha flops onto her back dramatically. It gives you a full view of her body, head to toe, with her not-so-little problem included. You bite the inside of your cheek frustratedly as you realize she's chipping away at your resolve.

"Practice isn't that important", she mutters, her forearms covering her eyes.

"Babe, you're team captain", you say, turning around. Focus on something else, anything else. If you cave, you will definitely be late. Or, worst case scenario, you won't leave your dorm before lunchtime — again. "Just...take a cold shower. I'll see you tonight."

She mutters something about 'showers being a scam' under her breath, then finally gets up. You watch her gather her stuff and get dressed, but you keep her letter jacket clutched to your chest. She raises her eyebrows and reaches out her hand.

"No."

"That's mine."

"Nope."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but ultimately just kisses you before slipping into her shoes. She can't help it — she's weak for you.

"I'll get you back for this", she says, then the door falls shut behind her.

. . .

The basketball circles the hoop once, twice, leaving everyone on the edge of their seats.

One leg crossed over the other, you lean forward. Red lips part slightly, manicured nails dig into the thin skin of your knee. All eyes are on the ball, which wobbles — but then it slips off and bounces away. You groan and toss your head back.

"Come on, Romanoff!", someone next to you shouts.

"Damn it", you curse. You go to her games all the time, and usually, you enjoy it. Watching her miss a shot, however, is not the most pleasant part of the experience.

Natasha runs her hand over her hair, clearly frustrated. She's been off her shooting game today, and she doesn't know why. She's not doing anything different.

You watch her trail backwards, bouncing on her heels and her eyes locked on the hoop. When she hears her team's complaints, she turns around. She yells at a teammate, then at a player from the opposite team, before the coach calls for a timeout.

She jogs to the bench, snatches her water bottle, and tips her head back to take a swig. Baby hairs stick to her sweaty temples, the veins on her arms popping. You lean forward.

"Nat!"

She looks up, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Then she realizes it's you and, just like that, her scowl softens. She glances at her team to check if anyone's watching her before approaching you. You're in the first row, right next to the home team's bench, so all she has to do is lean on the barrier separating the seats from the court.

"Hey", she says.

"'Hey'? Are you kidding me? What the hell was up with that shot?"

Natasha frowns and huffs. "Alright, I don't need a lecture right now. So unless you want to kiss me for good luck-"

A girl from her team — one you don't know too well — nudges her. Natasha barely glances at her, but it's enough for you to lean forward and tug at her ear.

"What the fuck!"

"I'm serious! You missed by, like, half a mile."

The glare she gives you is deadly, but you deserve it. You are being a little unfair. For good reason, though: whenever you're there to berate her, she suddenly starts playing much better. It's like magic. She needs a healthy dose of bullying from you for her performance to be at its peak.

"Alright", she snaps. "Be my guest. Suit up and try, if you think you'll do better."

"Oh, no." You reach up and brush your fingers along her jaw before resting them under her chin. "You're the best, aren't you? So show me that's true, and I'll reward you. But losers don't get a reward."

"You drive a hard bargain", she mutters. You smile innocently and tap her bottom lip. "Fine. Fine, I'll...do better, I guess."

"That's my girl", you purr and, with a light push against her mouth, send her back to her team.

The game continues.

Before halftime, Natasha's team was trailing 34-37, but after some strong defense and a layup, the score is tied again. That is, until the opposing team hits a couple of shots.

You're agitated, but confident. At least you're pretty sure you are.

Most of her games are like this. Her team needs to be slightly behind for her to be able to give it her all. You convince yourself it won't be different this time, either.

Eyes zeroed in on Natasha, you watch her every move. How she dribbles the ball, weaves through the defenders, loses the ball again. The game is a close one. They're playing against one of the better teams this time, and it shows.

It's a back and forth between the teams. The opposing team gets a small lead, which is quickly lost thanks to another shot. During the last minute, they're tied again. Teams are trading baskets, but you don't know whether you should stay positive.

For a while, it looks bad. Time is running out. Then, in a split second, Natasha is open at the top of the arc. The pass is fast, almost too high, but she catches it. Your breathing stops for a moment and you barely manage to restrain yourself from jumping up from your seat.

Five seconds left. The team's are neck-and-neck. Natasha has the ball.

Three seconds left. She makes her move, stepping back for a three-pointer. She rises, muscles coiled, and lets the ball fly.

One second left. After cutting through the air and briefly hitting the hoop, the ball swishes through the net.

66-64. The buzzer sounds. Her team has won.

You're on your feet before you realize it, yelling along with the audience. Natasha's team crashes into her the second she's back on the ground, but she only lets them slap her back and punch her arms for a few seconds before she weaves through the small crowd.

You hop over the barricade and into her arms, not caring about the fact she's all sweaty. Her lips press against your neck, her hand rubs up and down your back. She spins you around.

"You did it!"

"Because of you."

"That shot was amazing. More of that, please."

Natasha laughs, low and rough and exhausted, and tips her head back to look up at you. You smile and kiss her. She tastes like salt and Gatorade.

"Still the best?", she teases after pulling away. The soles of your sneakers make a quiet thudding sound against the vinyl floor.

"Always", you promise, pecking her lips once more. Natasha smirks and tugs off her jersey to hand it to you. With the fabric gone, she's almost naked. Only a sports bra and shorts cover her body. You earn a few stares from the opposing team, who isn't used to your little ritual, but you don't notice. It's a nice view, so you'd be an idiot to look at anyone but her.

You put on the jersey and let her pull you into her side again. She kisses you, slow and unhurried, while leading you back toward her team.

It's a last minute decision from the team to go to a bar together. Natasha takes a quick shower before you leave, now wearing something more comfortable. Getting her to dress up is a losing battle, so you don't even try this time. Plus, there's something distinctly attractive about the grey sweatpants she's sporting (or rather, what she's sporting inside the grey sweatpants).

You stay glued to her side pretty much all night. You're in her lap, her arm firmly holding you in place. The bass makes the ground vibrate and the alcohol is clouding your senses, but it's still early enough for you to be somewhat aware of reality.

You lean your cheek against her temple, then turn your head to brush your lips against her skin. She hums and squeezes your thigh, but her attention wavers. Two girls approach her, both of them around your age and probably fellow students.

Natasha glances at them, eyebrows raised. You cup her nape and brush your thumb against her hairline.

The girls smile, a little too brightly, and start talking about the basketball game. They're shameless — even with you, wearing Natasha's jersey and sitting on her lap, they're still going on and on about the game and the shots she made.

With every word that leaves their glossy pink lips, Natasha's focus on you slips more and more. Her hand on your thigh loosens. Her gaze, first flickering between you and the others, starts to linger on them. Her lips curve into that confident little smile you know too well.

You roll your eyes and scoot off her lap. If she has to do this, you don't want to be present. You excuse yourself and go to the restroom, where you freshen up. More lipstick, more perfume. You lift the front of Natasha's jersey and take a whiff to see whether it smells. It's not horrible, but noticeable enough, so you decide to change into the top you brought.

When you return to the bar, Natasha has leaned over to the girls. Arms crossed on the bar's counter, a lazy smirk on her face. The post-game glow is on full display. She tilts her head and mumbles something. It takes you a moment to realize she's flirting.

The girls are delighted. Giggling, shrugging, leaning forward as well. Their expressions indicate they clearly believe at least one of them has a shot. You understand why — Natasha, even after getting into a relationship with you, never quite got rid of her fuckboy-image —, but that doesn't mean you're not furious.

You want to compose yourself, you really do. You're pretty sure this isn't what it looks like, anyway. Fingernails digging into your palms, you watch them for another moment. Then, Natasha subtly bites her lip in that way that first drew you to her, and you've had enough.

You're next to her within seconds, your hand wrapping around her wrist. She lets out a grunt as you drag her away, leaving the two girls speechless and mildly annoyed.

"Have you lost your mind?", she complains, finally finding her voice again. You're already halfway into a bathroom stall.

"Have you?", you snap, pushing her inside and slamming the door shut. Natasha pauses, her eyes traveling up and down your body. The top, almost translucent and leaving little to the imagination, has her more than a little distracted. "My face is up here, you bastard."

"What? Hey!" She frowns. "What happened? What'd I do?"

There's a significant height difference between her and you, but it's not like that ever bothered you. You shove her against the wall, your eyes blazing. Her first instinct is to step forward — she's taller, all shoulders and muscle —, but she can tell you're pissed. Once she realizes she's fucked up, she lifts her hands and almost shrinks under your glare.

"Are you playing dumb? Don't play dumb!"

"What are you even- I was talking to them! They asked about the game!"

"You were flirting!"

Natasha scoffs, her cheeks a nervous-rosy pink. It'd look cute if you weren't about to slam her head through the plastic wall of the stall.

"I wasn't 'flirting'", she argues. "I was talking to them."

"No", you retort. "You were flirting. I could tell. They had that glittery look in their eyes stupid bitches get when you're close to them."

She blinks, caught off-guard, and her head tilts. The word you used is one you usually stay away from. The second you start cussing out other girls? Okay, now she knows you're mad mad.

"Baby", she says slowly, "I swear we were just talking. Nothing else. I don't give a fuck about anyone but you, and you know it."

"Right." You let out a bitter laugh. The sound makes her stomach tighten. "That's good to hear. Maybe it'd be believable if you hadn't tried to-"

The door of the bathroom stall next to yours opening cuts you off. You pause and turn when you hear the quiet pattering sound. Toilet paper rips. The person flushes. Then, shuffling of feet. It takes unbelievably long, and you let out a long sigh.

"Can you hurry?", you finally bark, and the person drops their purse. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry!", they say, their voice a squeak, and leave the stall. Water runs, more paper towels, then the door falls shut. You turn to Natasha again, whose ears are as pink as her cheeks.

You raise your eyebrows, as if daring her to say something. Her mouth opens, then closes, and she rubs the back of her neck.

"Okay", she says. "Maybe it was flirting, in a way. I didn't mean to, though."

Your fingers tighten on the front of her zip hoodie. Her eyes widen in silent panic.

"You can't flirt without meaning to flirt!"

"You totally can", she says, her back thudding against the wall once more. "Can you stop that?! Jesus, you're scary."

That last bit is mumbled, but you hear it anyway. It's enough to make you laugh — a sound that slips out unintentionally — but you quickly shake your head.

"I can be way scarier, you know. This is nothing."

"I totally believe that", she says, frowning petulantly. "You're turning into a tiny terror."

Despite your anger, your lips twitch again. Your grasp on her hoodie loosens, your scowl softens the tiniest bit. It's enough for Natasha, who first tried to gauge your mood for a few seconds, to take a leap of faith.

"The sexiest tiny terror", she adds, pulling you closer. You sigh. "My tiny terror. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

"This feels like manipulation, babe."

Her eyes light up — babe. She's getting somewhere.

"It's not", she promises, kissing your forehead. Her hands roam your sides, your hips, and slip under your top. "I'm being serious. Scout's honor."

"You're so full of shit."

Natasha grins and keeps kissing your face. Your cheeks, your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth. Unfortunately, each press of her lips against your skin softens you further. You'll probably just have to accept she's an expert at buttering you up.

"Come on now", she mumbles, her mouth against your ear. You giggle quietly when her tongue briefly flicks against your earlobe. "You know you love me."

"I must've done something terrible in my past life to deserve this."

She hums, her hands palming your sides. You exhale and lean into her, willing yourself to not give in — and failing. Her lips brush against your neck, sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin, and a shiver rolls up your spine.

Without really noticing, you press closer. Natasha's fingers find the clasp of your bra and swiftly unhook it.

"Hey", you protest, trying to bat her hand away. She buries her face against your neck, but doesn't budge. Her hand slides around to your front. "I can't believe I put up with you."

"Me neither", she mumbles, smirking faintly. "I'm a lucky idiot."

"Well, that's true."

Natasha kisses your neck, then your shoulder. Her hands push up your top and reveal your skin inch by inch. Your breath stutters when, suddenly, the roles are reversed and you feel your back against the wall.

Your hands come up to tangle in her hair. She grips your thighs and mouths at your neck.

"You're not forgiven, you know."

"Sure."

Her teeth sink into your neck. You barely manage to speak.

"I mean it."

Underwear around your ankles, you help her tug her sweatpants down. She struggles with the condom, but once the piece of plastic is wrapped around her cock snugly, she holds your hips in place and buries herself inside you. No time to adjust — she sets a fast pace.

The back of your head hits the wall and you let out a moan. Natasha keeps rutting into you, moaning breathily, your hands in her hair and her hands gripping your ass. She stuffs you up to the brim, cock pulsing and twitching, and pounds into you relentlessly.

Right as you're just about to tumble over the edge, the bathroom door opens again. You feel a moan rise up in your throat and quickly slap your own hand over your mouth, stifling the sound. Natasha laughs breathlessly, but then whines against your neck.

Whoever entered seems oblivious. They're on the phone, talking rapidly, while water flows in the background. You hear the clinking of stilettos on tiles and then smell a faint waft of some overly sweet perfume.

This whole situation usually wouldn't pose much of an issue. You're close enough, and you know from experience that you can keep quiet when needed. But Natasha, being who she is, slows down. Her grip on you loosens, her movements are drawn-out. Your thighs tremble and you groan against your own palm.

"I'll kill you."

"Ssh, baby", she mumbles, dragging her lips along your jaw. Her hips meet yours, again and again and again, but she's going too slow to really achieve anything. "Don't get us caught."

Every deliberate roll of her hips sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You whimper and bite down on your palm harder, meeting her movements with your hips. The pressure increases, and so does the need to push Natasha to go faster. Your thighs clench around her, but all she does is smile against your neck. You rock against her hips, desperate for more.

"Fuck you", you hiss, but the words die on your tongue when she picks up the pace. She ruts into you, urging you closer to the edge while you wrestle with the impulse to shout her name.

"I love you", she says, each word punctuated by a soft grunt. The bathroom door falls shut, and you finally get coaxed into that sweet high of mindless oblivion.

. . .

The sun is long gone, replaced by the milky light of the moon that's seeping into the library.

Natasha called it a 'study-session', hoping it'd turn into something else entirely. But exams are coming up, and as much as you'd like to hide in the encyclopedia aisle and hook up again, you'd rather she passes.

You're sitting on the table in front of her, with her head in your lap, as you test her knowledge on the subject. Sports Law — something you've only gotten familiar with since dating her.

"That's wrong", you say, running your fingers through her hair. "It's title IX of the education amendments of 1972. You should know that, babe."

She groans and turns her head, burying her face between your thighs. You smile faintly and drum your fingers against her scalp.

"Who cares? I'll pass, anyway. I always do."

"I want you to ace this one, though."

"Pipe dream."

"Nat."

Another groan. She pushes up the fabric of your shirt and shifts, her lips brushing against your lower abdomen. You bite back a soft sound of pleasure.

Not now. You have other things to focus on. But god, her hands start massaging your thighs, and her lips feel warm and plush, and the library seems empty enough. Heat pools in your lower belly and you quickly shove her off you.

"No", say, voice strained. "Study. Now."

"You're boring", Natasha mutters, grabbing the book and skimming the pages. "I know all of this. It's easy."

"You got four questions wrong", you counter, glancing at the screen of her phone when it buzzes. Her wallpaper flashes on the screen — a picture of you, only wrapped into silky bedsheets, with kiss marks on your shoulders and your hair a mess. But that's not what catches your attention. It's the message that just popped up.

A girl named Tara.

Natasha lifts her head and peeks at her phone. You snatch it before she can reach for it.

"Who's that?", you prompt.

"A girl from Sports Economics", she says, sitting up. She tries to grab the phone, but you hold it out of her reach. "Babe."

"Why's she texting you at midnight?"

"Not sure", she replies, irritated, and tries to grab it again. Her fingertips brush against the edge of the phone. "I could tell you if you'd let me read the damn text."

"She always texts you this late?", you ask, glancing up at the phone.

A simple message — hey, you awake? :) — but still unexpected enough to annoy you. You squint and try to look at her profile picture.

"Hold on, is that the girl who said hi to you in the cafeteria the other day? The one with the pink eyeshadow?"

"Yeah", she says, her arm dropping in defeat. "Tara. Like I said, I know her from Econ."

"It's midnight", you mutter, bringing the phone back down. Before Natasha can protest, you've used her face to unlock the phone and opened the chat. Natasha rolls her eyes and huffs, so you pinch her bottom lip. "You should tell her to find some new makeup. I thought she was fighting for her life against allergies."

"You're mean."

"Her makeup sucks."

"Doesn't make it any less mean", she argues, resting her head on your lap again. She sighs, eyes closing, and waits for you to finish whatever you're doing. "Still scrolling?"

"It's a long chat", you mutter, thumb swiping over the screen. Luckily, the messages seem innocent enough. At least Natasha's do. "She wants you."

"I'm pretty sure she's straight."

"Nat", you say, putting her phone aside. "Straight girls want you, too."

She looks up, smirking. You flick her forehead.

"Ow!"

You narrow your eyes at her, watching her rub the spot you flicked. "You're enjoying this."

"I am", she says bluntly. "You're going on and on about some girl I really don't care about."

"She cares about you", you argue. "In the past, that seemed to be enough."

Natasha scoffs and sits up, leaning back in her chair. She studies you for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, then sighs. Her legs stretch out under the table.

"Exactly", she finally says. "In the past. Not now, not last week, but when it didn't matter."

"I feel like some things don't stop mattering."

"Like my love for you", she flirts. You kick her side and she lets out a quiet 'oof'. "What'd I do to deserve that, huh?!"

"You can't flirt your way out of everything, you know!"

"I'm not flirting my way out", she protests, looping her arms around your waist and tugging you closer. You sigh, thighs snugly wrapped around her torso. "I love you. Nothing can change that."

"No?" You give her a skeptical look. She just shakes her head and leans in, pressing a few kisses to your chest.

"No", she mumbles. "I love you. Period. Now stop worrying."

You stare at her as she nuzzles and kisses your chest, slowly moving upwards. Her thoughts are somewhere else already, whereas you're still stuck. Tara, the girls at the bar, the stares Natasha gets all day long. Your worries, fears, and how easily she can dismiss them. How, when you're mad, she manages to worm her way out of just about everything.

Smooth words and soft touches are her specialty. She uses them like a tool, which can be hot, but also incredibly frustrating. You know why it's so easy for her — because she knows you'll stay. You won't leave. She claims that the same thing is true for her, but maybe she'll need to prove that.

The thought creeps in slowly, dangerously. It's nothing more than a small, fleeting idea at first, but the longer you watch her, the more drawn to it you become.

Natasha says she's yours. She says there's nothing to worry about. You'd love to know whether she actually means that.

She loves you, after all. Logically, she'd love a tiny version of you just as much.

"Hey", you mumble, eyes focused on her. She pauses, lips pressed to your jaw. "You seem distracted."

"Can't help it. I'll need a different study-buddy to be able to concentrate on anything but you."

"Oh yeah?" You glance at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. Almost 1am. "It's late, you know. We might as well leave."

She hums against your skin and looks up. "Your dorm's still empty?"

"Mhm", you say before you're able to reconsider this whole plan. "We got the whole room to ourselves."

"Well then", she says, getting up and pecking your lips, "what are we waiting for? Let's go."

The hallway is as empty as the library was. Natasha presses you against the wall, caging you in between a corner and her body, and kisses you. Hands bunch up your shirt, feel heated skin. You wrap your arms around her neck and hum into the kiss.

Her hand dips into the back pocket of your jeans. She fishes out the key to your dorm, then leads you down the hallway. One arm wrapped around your waist, she unlocks the door using her free hand.

Bodies tumble onto the mattress together. Breathy laughter, stripping of clothes, bare skin on bare skin. Natasha turns, opens the drawer of the nightstand next to you to look for condoms, but you tug her on top you again. She doesn't resist and kisses you, lips moving and messing up your makeup.

You feel her nestled inside of you, every vein and throb noticeable. She grabs and angles your thigh for deeper access, her moans mingling with yours. Lipstick marks smudged on her cheek, hickeys on your chest. The bed frame hits the wall with every thrust, muffled thuds filling the air.

Her hand finds your lower belly, pressing down on it. Natasha feels her own outline through the soft skin and groans quietly. Teeth nip at your neck, her hips meeting yours a few more times. Then, the anticipated release and the relief that comes with it.

Warmth pools deep inside of you. It drips down your thighs, staining the bedsheets, but all you manage to do is turn your head and bury your face in her neck. Your fingers brush against your stomach, and the full acceptance of what might happen starts to set in.

. . .

Weeks have passed. Late spring has turned into something resembling an early summer.

A little '+' confirms it.

You're alone when you take it. It's quite early, not even 6am, but you got woken up by someone yelling in the hallway. The test was right next to you, lying on your nightstand like a bad omen, then you finally grabbed it and got up.

Taking it wasn't hard, but checking the result is. You stare at the test in your hand, your brain too tired and sleepy to process everything. Leaning against the wall of your dorm's bathroom, you try to let reality sink in. It doesn't feel real. Not yet, at least.

Knowing it is real helps, though. You put the test aside and exhale, fingers drumming against the tiled wall behind you. Your thoughts are more of a mess than you thought they'd be.

It was a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive decision. It was also incredibly stupid. Yet you're here, eyes glued to the ceiling, and find yourself regretting nothing at all. At this point, not even the thought of her reaction scares you.

She said she loved you. All you're doing is putting that love to the test. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Bullshit. You know you've fucked up.

You meet her after class, as you agreed on earlier that morning. She seems calm, happy, completely oblivious to what secret you're (literally) carrying with you. Hands on your waist, she pecks your lips, then she grabs your backpack and slings it over her shoulder.

It's a warm afternoon, so you head to the mall. You grab a few things you need — new pajamas, some shampoo, a water bottle to replace the one you lost. Natasha tosses a pack of condoms into the shopping cart and you barely stop yourself from reacting too obviously.

On your way out, you pass a store that exclusively sells baby-related items. Strollers, onesies, highchairs. You avert your eyes and stay close to Natasha's side.

Late evening. You're back on Clint's couch, passing around pizza and trying to decide on a movie. Clint complains about Laura's last pick — Juno — which, apparently, most of you didn't like too much.

Natasha pulls your legs over her lap, lightly massaging your shin. She's only in a white tank top that leaves her shoulders and arms on full display. You'd be distracted if you weren't worrying about other things already.

"I wasn't a fan, either", she says, glancing at Clint. "But I did like what it led to."

"Right. I swear to everything that's holy, if you start something like that again-"

"Seriously, calm down." She raises her eyebrows. "Keep ranting like that and poor Laura will think you're going celibate."

He rolls his eyes and slumps into the couch, one hand swatting at her. She laughs and bats him away. When she glances at you, she notices how quiet you are, and nudges you.

"You're unusually non-hyper verbal, baby."

"I'm good", you say, stretching. "Just...bored."

You're not bored. You're far from bored. But you needed an excuse. However, Natasha takes it the wrong way, and a tiny smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?", she says, running her hand higher. First it touches your knee, then it brushes under the hem of your dress. "Bathroom's empty. Maybe we'll even make it into the bedroom. I heard Mr. Prude over there got a new mattress."

"Romanoff, I will-"

"Shush." She raises her eyebrows at him before leaning closer to you. Her breath fans your cheek, her voice is a raspy murmur. "If you want us to ditch them, just tell me. I'll get us outta here."

"I'm fine", you assure her. "Just get me a beer."

Natasha nods and turns, grabbing a can from the ice bucket they prepared. She cracks it open right as you realize you probably shouldn't drink it.

"Actually", you stammer, "I'm good. None for me. Thank you."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment on it. Shrugging, she takes a sip.

"Sure", she says. "I can get you a coke?"

"No, thanks." You shake your head and sink into the cushions, trying to keep the heat from your face. It's difficult, though, and it only gets worse when a character in whatever movie you're watching (truthfully, you aren't paying much attention) is revealed to be pregnant.

You rub your neck, throwing glances at Natasha every now and then. She's still oblivious. Then, she catches you staring, and her head tilts in silent question. You pause before getting up and dragging her along.

"What...?"

"Not in my bed!", Clint shouts.

"We're not having sex!", you yell back, slamming the door to his bedroom shut.

"We're not?"

You turn toward Natasha. "No", you say, awkwardly crossing your arms. "We're not."

"Shame", she says, smirking, and pushes her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She studies you for a moment and her smirk softens. "You alright?"

"I'm fine", you lie. "We need to talk, though."

Her smirk disappears entirely. She frowns, her gaze steady and attentive. Alright, you think. You're mine now. Have fun finding out about it.

"Talk?", she says, leaning against the closet. "About what, baby? Did you do something?"

"Uhm..."

"You did?" She grins faintly. "Wow. Didn't expect that to ever happen. How bad is it?"

"It's not funny", you say, plucking at the strap of your dress. "You won't be grinning like that once I tell you."

"Don't underestimate me", she teases, hands slipping out of her pockets to rest on your arms. "Anything can be funny, if you're looking at it the right way."

"Oh yeah?" You pause. "How funny is us being in this for the long haul?"

"Not very funny, honestly. I wouldn't mind, though."

"Mhm." You tilt your head. Your heart beats faster and faster, but at this point, you have to say it. "Good to know."

"It is?" Natasha hums and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your nose. "Want to make it official, or why's that?"

"I mean, having a baby is pretty official."

The second those words leave your lips, Natasha freezes. First, she just stares at you. Her hands drop to her sides. She takes a step back, then another, her eyebrows furrowed and confusion etched into her face.

The gears in her head start turning. She tries recalling whether you've been using protection, but then her brain fails her, and she exhales sharply. Silence lingers, heavy and uncomfortable, before she finally blurts out.

"We're what?"

"I'm pregnant", you say. "Took a test. It's positive."

"You...I..." She rakes her hand through her hair, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Another step backwards, and her back collides with the wall. "We were careful."

"Oh, no." You watch her, growing more worried. "We weren't. Not that night after the library."

Natasha looks at you. Her brain eventually catches up.

"Oh, fuck", she curses. "Fuck. Y/N!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?!"

"Can you calm down?" You tilt your head. "You said you're in it for the long haul, no?"

"You can't be serious!"

"Uhh, guys?"

You whip around. The door is still shut, but Clint is standing behind it.

"What?", you call, irritated.

"Look, no idea what the hell is going on in there, but if you need help..."

"No help. We're fine."

"Are we?", Natasha hisses. You look at her.

"Oh, relax", you say, rolling your eyes. "You'll live."

She lets out a panicked wheeze and scrubs her hand down her face. You're being too calm, too nonchalant, whereas she feels like she's about to have a dozen panic attacks at once. She's not one to let herself get tied down. At least, that's what she always told herself. You may have changed that belief, but old habits die hard.

"I can't have a kid now! I- I have practice, I have games!" Then, as if the thought just hit her: "This is like a teen pregnancy."

"You're in college."

"Same thing!"

"Absolutely not the same thing", you argue, stepping closer. "Look, it won't be easy, but it could be worse. I mean, you love me — now imagine how much you'll love a tinier, cuter version of me."

She shoots you a glare, her breathing still uneven and rapid. "Don't think you can get much tinier."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Absolutely not", she mutters. "Pretty sure that's what got me into this mess."

"You're saying I should've gotten railed by someone else?"

Another glare. This one shuts you up. Natasha turns, looks out the mirror, glances at the striped bedsheets and the painting on the wall. Finally, she looks at you.

"I shouldn't even ask, since you seem perfectly fine", she mutters, crossing her arms. "But what about you? You okay? I mean..."

"I'm fine", you say, more quietly now. She nods and looks away again. You step closer and cup her face, standing on your tiptoes to litter small kisses across her cheeks and forehead. With every touch, her panic softens into mild anxiety. Then, at last, her arms wrap around your waist.

You look at her. Natasha exhales sharply, like she's trying to make peace with it all. She doesn't smile, but her fingertips graze your lower belly.

"If we're doing this", she mumbles stubbornly, "I get to teach them basketball."

"Fine."

"They get a jersey. A tiny one. With my number on it."

You sigh. "Sure."

"Also, no more junk food. The baby eats what you eat."

You scoff, squishing her face. She gives you another halfhearted glare.

"I will end you", you say, squeezing again. She shakes her head and tries to pull away from your grasp. "I mean it! What's life without fries?"

"Depressing", she says, hands sliding to your front and then back to your waist. "But healthier for whatever is growing inside you."

Your expression turns deadpan. "It's a baby."

"Show me an ultrasound first."

"You know what, maybe I did make this up."

..."Excuse me?!"

"I'm kidding!"

"No", she protests. "Now I want to see a doctor's note."

You let out a long exhale and pull her closer, your face against her neck. You press a kiss to her pulse point to keep yourself from slapping her. Sometimes, you wonder whether she's annoying intentionally.

But then, she softens. Her arms wrap around you, muscles enveloping you in safety and warmth, and her lips press kisses to your hair. Her heartbeat against your ear, her scent everywhere around you, you feel yourself melt a little.

"If this is real", she says, shushing you before you can interfere, "I'll do my best, alright? I'm not good at sticking around. I know that. But you have made me stick around, and I'm sure the baby will only make me stick around longer."

"'Longer'", you mumble, voice muffled, "better mean forever in this case."

"I said what I said."

"Romanoff."

She laughs, still shaking a little, and tightens her hold on you. Her nose is buried in your hair.

"We're also finding an apartment", she murmurs. "The dorm's too small. Can't fit a crib in there."

"Obviously."

"And we're not telling the others. Not yet."

You hum, hands sliding under her top and feeling the muscles on her back. Her skin is warm and smooth, making you press closer to her. She groans softly.

"No?", you ask, drawing shapes on her lower back.

"No. Not until I don't feel like passing out just thinking about it."

You laugh, fingertips pressing into her skin. You look up at her and smile. The smile you get in return is a bit strained, but her hands come up to cup your face. You lean in and kiss her.

First, it's soft and slow. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. A quiet hum comes from her throat.

Then, you're walking backwards. You feel the mattress against your legs. You pull away and raise your eyebrows.

"Now?"

"Cut me some slack. I need to relieve stress."

You huff, but she's got you on your back before you can say anything else. Your hands fumble with her hair, releasing it from the loose bun, and watch the red strands come free. She hums and kisses your shoulder.

Her hand dips under your dress, traveling upwards until her fingers reach your stomach. She touches it, tentatively, before fumbling with your underwear. You let out a sound of approval, head dropping onto the mattress.

"This baby better not change anything", Natasha says, bunching up your dress around your waist.

"Change what?", you ask lazily.

"This. Us." She leans down and kisses your thigh. "You know what I mean."

"I truly don't."

She palms herself through her sweatpants, her eyes shooting you an unimpressed look. "You can't be that dense. Jesus Christ, my child is going to be a moron."

You scoff and flick her shoulder, but there's a faint smirk on your face. This is good. This is safe, familiar. "Can't believe I let you knock me up."

Natasha smiles. For a split second, her fingers twitch against your lower stomach before she focuses on pulling your underwear down. As if on instinct, she reaches for the condom in the pocket of her sweatpants, but then pauses. She glances at you. A look is exchanged, and you both start laughing.

It's slow, this time. Slow and lazy, unhurried. Your earlier 'fight' scared Clint off, so he doesn't even interrupt you. Neither of you is sure what's coming next, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

. . .

By the way Natasha is staring at the screen, you'd think she's seeing an alien.

Truthfully, it might be one. You're not sure. All you know is that the white blob does not resemble a human in the slightest.

You glance at the ob-gyn, who seems unfazed. She keeps moving the transducer over your gel-slicked stomach, making the image on the screen waver. Finally, she stops and hits a button. The image freezes.

You squint at the screen. A blob. A vaguely human-shaped blob, maybe, but still a blob.

"There's the baby."

You look at Natasha. She raises her eyebrows, seeming helpless. Where?, she mouths.

The doctor is used to this. She doesn't even need to ask you anything to zoom in and point again, but it only helps minimally.

"Oh, yeah", Natasha finally lies. "I see it."

"Yeah", you add, trying to avoid the ob-gyn's eyes. "It's cute."

The woman sees right through you. She smiles faintly and prints the picture for you, then she wipes your stomach down with a few paper towels. "It's fine if you don't see it", she says, throwing the towels away. "Most parents don't. Babies do look a bit deformed in the beginning."

"But it's healthy?", Natasha asks.

"Completely healthy. Don't you worry." She smiles and tugs off her nitrile gloves. "I'll be back in a minute, alright? Feel free to look at the image and play 'Where's Waldo.'"

You hum noncommittally and glance at the ultrasound picture. Still a blob.

Natasha's fingers twitch against her knee and she shifts. All of this is becoming way too real way too soon.

"It's gonna come out looking like a real person, right?", she mumbles, frowning.

"You're kidding."

"Sorry, but it looks like something you'd see under a microscope."

You grab the first thing you find — your cardigan, bunched into a ball — and toss it at her. She catches it and spreads it out over your legs.

"Nice one", she says drily. "Come on, you can't tell me that looks like a baby."

You roll your eyes and glance at the picture again, fingers brushing over the glossy surface. She's right. It doesn't even resemble something supposedly alive, let alone a human being. But it is a human being, according to the doctor, and that's all you need to know.

"Maybe it's taking its time getting cute."

"That'll take a while."

"I hate you."

. . .

Nobody knows. Not yet. But hiding it is getting harder with every day.

Basketballs bounce, shoes squeak, the air smells of sweat and gym air. You watch the ball be thrown in your direction and you catch it, then toss it aside.

It was a flirty text that led you here. You were in bed, drunk on sunlight and half-asleep, when your phone buzzed. The picture you got was one you couldn't complain about — Natasha, in front of a mirror, only wearing boxers (just slightly tugged down to reveal an additional sliver of skin) and a bra. A picture taken in the locker room of the gym, right before practice. It was enough to get you semi-conscious and shoo you out of bed.

Practice is over now, so you walk onto the court. Natasha wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, her hand sneakily moving to your stomach — still pretty flat, but your shirt hides the tiniest of bumps.

"You did good", you say, smiling, and cup her face. The heat is making the ends of her hair curl, and strands of baby hair stick to her sweaty temples. You scrunch your nose, brushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "Really good. But that last shot was...meh."

"Criticizing me?" She scoffs and presses her lips to yours. Around you, her teammates talk and grab their stuff before heading to the showers. "A little more support would be appreciated, you know."

"This is me supporting you", you point out, walking her out of the gym. "What else do you want me to do, huh? Cheer? Fetch some water?"

"I wouldn't say no to seeing you in a cheerleading uniform."

You scoff, your hands wrapping around her lower arm as you lead her across campus. Only a handful of students passes you — it's summer, and most people are either visiting their families or vacationing. Not you and Natasha, though. You're spending your free time looking for an apartment.

"You'll have to wait around 6 more months for that." You pause, quickly re-calculating. "I think. My brain isn't working the way it's supposed to."

"Nothing new", she mumbles, shooting you a smirk when you jab your elbow into her side. "Kidding, kidding."

She squeezes your waist and leads you to the campus parking lot. She's still in her jersey, all sweaty from practice, but you have an appointment for an apartment viewing soon. Actually, you've got a whole list of apartments you want to look at. Natasha is taking apartment-hunting very seriously.

Too seriously, you're starting to think. Suddenly, not only the size of the apartment and the neighborhood where it's located are important, but also a bunch of things that are, in your humble opinion, simply not relevant.

"This next one has a basketball court nearby", she says, adjusting your seatbelt for you. "Good for early practice, you know. For the kid."

You raise your eyebrows. "For our fetus?"

"Hey, never too early."

You keep your thoughts on that matter to yourself.

At the apartment, the landlord shows you around. Kitchen, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms. Everything seems to be going fine. Despite still being in a sweaty jersey, Natasha manages to make a good impression. Then, he dares ask about your current family situation. That's when the usually so composed woman starts stuttering.

"Well, engaged. I guess. I mean, not yet, but in a way. Uh...fuck. Y/N?"

You glance at her, frowning. "Engaged? Where's the ring, then?"

Natasha looks at you. The panic in her eyes almost makes you laugh.

"Are you engaged or are you not?", the landlord asks. "It's fine if you aren't. Not that important, really."

"We're not", you say. "One day, though. Or so I hope."

"Yeah, yeah", Natasha says, still stressing. "One day."

A few more apartments you look at are enough to wear you out. You collapse onto the bed in your dorm, face buried in your pillow and one leg hanging over the edge. Natasha sits next to you and squeezes your butt, smiling.

"Hey", you mutter, voice muffled.

"Hey yourself", she teases. Her hand travels lower, tickling the inner part of your thighs. You squirm and she laughs quietly. "Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Can't blame you for that, baby." She leans in, pressing a kiss to the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts. "Want me to order dinner?"

You glance at her, eyes lighting up with hope. "Pizza?"

"We said no junk food."

"You said no junk food."

"Think about the baby", she says, tugging at your shorts. "Mhm, you could take these off."

You snort and kick at her blindly. You manage to hit her in the ribs. She lets out a grunt and pinches your butt cheek. You roll over, one cheek reddened from the pillow, and give her a challenging look. "Ouch! Come on, I'm growing your kid. Least you can do is get me a pizza."

Her fingers trail up your spine. Before you know it, she's lying behind you with her front against your back. Pressed together from head to toe, not an inch of space separates you.

She kisses the back of your neck. Her hand rests on your stomach, rubbing gently. "You're right", she mumbles. "You've trapped me. Pizza it is."

The words trapped me make your cheeks go warm. You snuggle into her and ignore the guilt and satisfaction warring inside you. This is something she'll find out about one day. Maybe. But right now, you're too happy in your little bubble to make it pop.

"I want garlic bread, too."

"So demanding." She hums and dips her hand into the front of your shorts. Her bulge presses against your butt. "How hungry are you, exactly?"

You whine softly. With the pregnancy making your body overly sensitive, every little touch sends sparks of want through you. Heat pools in your lower belly and you shift, grinding against her. She hums, her fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. White lace is revealed, and she moans.

"Really hungry, actually", you mumble, squirming. "But I'm willing to wait."

"Thank god", she says, peppering your shoulder with kisses. "I was considering jerking off in the bathroom otherwise."

"Gross."

"Love you too."

Natasha somehow manages to place the order. It's difficult, though, especially when you roll over. One leg hooked over her waist, she whines and rocks her hips against yours pathetically. You laugh and then moan, feeling her hard-on nudge all the right spots.

You bury your face in her neck and place kisses until her entire neck is covered in lipstick. Finally, she tosses her phone aside. You both ignore the sound of your roommate's lamp crashing to the ground and instead focus on each other.

. . .

Natasha was never one to get easily distracted by an audience.

Now that there's a tiny viewer in the stands, though, that has changed.

Niko is barely old enough to stay awake for longer than two hours, but that doesn't mean he can't go to his mom's basketball games and watch. One hand wrapped around your finger and earmuffs that look way too big on him, he's undeniably the star of the stands.

You thought he'd be a tiny you. As it turned out, Natasha's genes are a little too stubborn for that. His eyes are still baby-blue, but the redness of his hair is unmistakable. Paired with the matching jersey he's sporting, you feel like you're carrying a much smaller version of her around.

You ignore the looks and the delighted whispers. As always, your focus is on Natasha. That's something that, even now that you have a baby, never changed. It's her game. She's the important one here.

You watch her dribble the ball as she scans the court. Focus unwavering, she dodges a defender and leaves them stunned. With one leap, she soars into the air and lets the ball swish through the net.

Not too long ago, you would've jumped up and cheered. But you don't want to jostle the baby too much, so you settle for clapping awkwardly while holding Niko in one arm.

Natasha turns, eyes glistening, and spots you in the crowd. You take Niko's hand and make him wave at her. Her smile only widens.

Minutes later, the buzzer sounds. Another victory.

Natasha comes rushing to the stands before anyone can even attempt to congratulate her. She helps you over the barricade, then takes off her jersey to hand it to you. The piece of fabric is swapped for the baby, who clings to her like a little koala.

"Did you see that?", she asks, breathless, and pats Niko's back when he starts fussing. "What a shot!"

You nod, laughing, and kiss her cheek. Sweaty as always. And, also as always, you don't find it in you to care.

"I did", you say, putting on her jersey. "Much better than in that first halftime, babe."

"Yeah?" She looks at the baby. He's still fussy, one hand grasping at her shoulder. "What about you, bud? You like it?"

"Didn't even cry once", you say, brushing your fingers over his tuft of hair. "Which is a miracle."

"It definitely is."

You linger by the barricade, talking and smiling, exchanging quick kisses. Natasha's teammates approach you to ask whether you want to go out and celebrate, but you decline. They leave, buzzing with joy, only for a few girls to introduce themselves to Natasha.

This time, all they get is a brief smile. She kisses Niko's cheek and leads you away from the court, away from the crowds, away from the noise.

"Not gonna stay and talk a bit more?", you tease. It's surprising, how much has changed. Her habit to flirt excessively seems to be gone. It's something you're thankful for — having to fight her about that was tiring.

Natasha shakes her head. You walk through a hallway, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and turn a corner. The locker room is empty when you enter it.

"Nah", she says, sitting down on a bench. She gently takes the earmuffs off Niko's head and watches him yawn. "I'd rather get home. He looks tired."

"He is, yeah."

"You're tired, too", she points out. You tilt your head and smile faintly.

"And here I thought I applied enough makeup."

"Don't worry, you're gorgeous. But you also look tired."

No point in denying that. Niko is merely four months old, and he's far from sleeping through the night. In addition, Natasha is unable to get up most nights, since practice and the games are demanding. She tries her best to juggle college, basketball, and an infant.

"Fine", you admit. "He kept me up all night. But I'm okay, I swear."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'd look more put together, but you try applying lipstick while holding a squirming baby."

Natasha laughs and reaches up to take your hand. You're on her lap before you know it, nestled against Niko. She kisses your shoulder.

"You look put together", she assures you. "Tired, but put together."

You smile and lean into her. Her arm is strong around your waist, biceps swollen and veins popping, and you turn your head to kiss her cheek.

"All for you", you mumble. Then, you tap Niko's nose. "This' all for you, too."

"Oh, I know." Natasha nuzzles her face against your shoulder. "Lucky me. Lucky you. We're all lucky."

Lucky you, indeed.

[inlovewithfairies]

OPEN REQUESTS!

Halo, i want to write some blackhill in this beautiful day of fuck secret invasion i write soft drabbles so if u want to send me a prompt or comment something you would like to see in something i write on my own i'll be grateful <3