#black widow x reader

[arlana-likes-to-write]

One More

Part 2 of Reunited

Summary: When your phone rings, you know it will be your last one before retirement. Unfortunately, it does not go as planned.

Warning: (spoilers in the warnings) nightmares, PTSD, mention of war displacement, kidnapping, torture, death, killing, blood, angst with a happy ending, injuries, non-sexual nudity

Word Count: 18K (I am so sorry)

You sat up quickly, chest heaving and a thin layer of sweat covering your body. With a glance, you saw Natasha still asleep. Good. You would have hated yourself if you woke her up. You threw off the blanket, and your legs shook as you entered the bathroom. Your mind was hazy as you closed the door, flipped the lights, and turned on the shower. You stepped underneath the water without bothering to strip out of your clothes. The cold water shocked your system, and it pulled you out of your nightmare-induced haze. You slide to the ground and let the water fall on you.

The nightmare was a recurring one. Although the setting changed, the main idea remained the same. You were unable to keep your family safe. You had one job, and you couldn’t do that.

Suddenly, the water was shut off, and you blinked slowly. “Are you with me, Detka?” a voice asked.

You knew that voice. It wasn’t Fury barking orders or the sound of your girls screaming for you. The voice was warmth, safety, and peace. It was Natasha. Slowly, you nodded. “Can I touch you?” You hesitated but nodded anyway. But your wife saw your hesitation and knelt in front of you. She kept her hands to herself until you reached for her. A silent way to tell her you needed her. Her hands were warm, a sharp contrast to your cold skin. You shivered. “Do you think we can get out of the shower, or do you want to stay here for a little while?”

“Stay,” your voice shook. Standing sounded exhausting, and if you stayed in the bathroom, you wouldn’t have to face the outside world. In here, you were safe. You felt your throat burn as you kept the tears at bay. The only thing that kept you from slipping back into your nightmare-fueled mind was your wife’s warm hands. “I’m sorry,” you finally spoke. “You shouldn’t have-”

“Hush, my love,” she gently cut you off. “Just focus on my hands and breath. You are safe here.” You nodded and let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t the first time you woke her up from a nightmare; you knew it would not be the last. You would wake up and sit on the couch at the beginning of your relationship. You wouldn’t share what your mind created and refused any help from Natasha. As you grew as a couple, you learned to lean on her. The cold began to affect you.

“Can we get out?” You whispered. She nodded with a smile and helped you stand up. You felt like a toddler, unable to do anything for yourself, as Natasha stripped you of your wet clothes and dried you off. Once you were dried, she pulled you back into the bedroom.

“Do you want new clothes?” You shook your head and pulled her into your arms.

“Want you,” you mumbled against her skin.

“Okay,” Natasha whispered. “Go lay down,” you hesitated, not wanting to let her go, but you did as you were told and lay back in bed. Natasha undressed quickly and joined you. You rested your head on her chest, and her fingers ran through your hair. Her free arm wrapped around you. The steady beat of her heart was a gentle reminder that she was alive and safe. Your nightmare was wrong; you weren’t too late to protect her. “Do you want to talk about it?” She broke the silence. You looked up at her.

“Bad guys got to you and the girls. I couldn’t protect you,” she carefully pushed away a few tears.

“It is not only your responsibility to protect this family,” Natasha whispered. We are a team.”

“Nat,” she moved up suddenly and forced you to move with her.

“We are a team, my love,” she said, connecting your hands. I know the things you’ve done and the enemies you’ve made, but we protect this family together,” you kissed her hands. I am here for you like you are here for me, okay?” You nodded. “I need to hear you say it.” You pulled her onto your lap, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

“Okay,” you said against her lips and kissed her. The kiss was slow and gentle as if you were afraid the other would break. Your hands tangled in the soft strands of her hair as the kiss deepened. Your tongue swiped against her lips, and her mouth opened. A soft sigh left her mouth, and you captured the sound. It was easy to get lost in the sounds that Natasha made and how her hips rolled against yours. Your lips traveled down her neck, and you left no skin untouched.

“We can’t do this right now,” her voice was breathy, clearly affected by your actions.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” you would never force her to have sex. You bite down on her neck, and she moans loudly. “Sh, baby, we don’t want to wake the girls.”

“Then you better keep me quiet,” you smirked against her skin. You were so in love with your wife that it made you lightheaded. Sometimes, you thought you were dreaming. You never thought this would be your life: a roof over your head, a woman you loved in your arms, and your kids, who were asleep in their room. Soon, you would be retired, and this would be your life forever.

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“You look like shit,” Clint took Natasha’s empty seat. She and Laura were at the bar getting drinks. It was a lovely day, so your family, the Starks, and the Bartons decided to visit the local water park. You pushed your sunglasses up to your forehead. “Well, you look tired.” You smiled and crossed your arms, watching Rose and Hailey climb around the water castle.

“Woke up from a nightmare last night,” you looked at your friend. “Nat found me completely out of it in the shower,” Clint nodded.

“Laura has found me in the snow only wearing my boxers,” you sighed.

“Do you regret being part of the team?” He stopped staring at you and looked at his kids.

“Yes and no,” you waited for him to elaborate. “We did some good work with the team and saved many lives, but we’ve missed a lot here and have done some pretty horrific things in the name of justice.” You chuckled, resting your arm on your knee. Horrific things were an underestimate. You killed, lied, and tortured in the name of getting the bad guys. “One more for you, right?” You nodded.

“What about you, old man?” You teased. “How many more do you get in you?” He rolled his eyes.

“Two more, maybe three, depending on how they go.”

“You’re in my seat, birdbrain,” Natasha said, holding two drinks. Clint flipped her off and moved back to his seat with Laura. Here you go, dorogoy,” she handed you your drink. It remained in her hand. You were distracted by the red one-piece she was wearing. “My eyes are up here,” you smirked and took the cup.

“Thank you,” you shared a quick kiss before she sat down.

“What were you and Clint talking about?” She asked.

“About last night,” you took a sip. Since you weren’t the biggest drinker, it was lemonade, and you told Natasha you would DD. “He said I look like shit.”

“I’ll kill him,” you smiled at the deadpan look on her face. You knew she meant business.

“Down, kotenok (kitten),” you squeezed her hand. You sipped on your drink while you watched your daughters wait for the giant barrel to fill with water and dump on them. They were all carefree, untouched by the evil in the world. Maybe it was unfair to be jealous of a child. The shrill sound of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. You glanced at Clint, who was looking for his phone. That was not a good sign. You grabbed your phone from your backpack and saw the message from Steve - You’re needed. Assemble. Sighing, you hit your phone against your hand.

“Last one,” you looked at Natasha. There was a soft smile on her face. You grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“One more,” you repeated. “One more.”

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“Well, well, well,” Maria said as you walked to the front with your bag over your shoulder. You rode with Clint to headquarters to get debriefed before heading to the airport. “Heard from the big man that this is your last mission.” She held open the door for you both. You nodded.

Natasha had to be in the room with you while you were on the phone with Fury. It was a roller coaster of emotions - intense guilt, relief, sadness. You saw Fury as a father figure. He took a chance on you when no one else would. But he was proud of you and started the process of your retirement. “What do you have planned with all this free time?”

“Ton of sex,” Clint answered. Rolling your eyes, you slapped him on the back of his head. You ignored his grumbling protest as he rubbed his head.

“We still have a lot of sex even with the job, thank you,” he scrunched his nose in disgust. “Nat and I have been thinking about traveling with the girls. But we’ll see,” you opened the conference room door, and Bucky and Steve were already there. “Hey, lover boys,” you dropped your bag on the floor and sat across Bucky. “How have you been?” It had been a few months since the last mission, so catching up with the team was nice. Minus Clint, you only saw the others when you were called in. Since you were retiring, you made a mental note to invite them over more. They were your family, best friends, and people who would give their lives to save yours. You loved them.

The team stood at attention when the door opened. Fury walked in, followed by Sam Wilson, second in command on the other team. He was a good man and never afraid to crack a joke.

“At ease,” Fury said. You sat back down. “This is an exciting mission. It will be our last one with Viper,” your team cheered, and Clint grabbed your shoulders to shake you. You rolled your eyes and pushed the man off of you. You thought the nickname was stupid. But Clint called you once, and it stuck. Every time you heard the name, it reminded you of the one time you disobeyed a direct order. You were a good soldier and followed orders without a second thought. But when Maria and Fury told you to stand down and wait for backup to arrive, you disobeyed, turned off your coms, and rescued the hostage. If you waited, they would have been killed. Clint said you moved like a snake, quick and precise. He called you Viper while Fury chewed you out.

“Speech, speech, speech,” Bucky cheered.

“I can not wait not to have to deal with your ugly mug,” you flipped him off. He threw his empty coffee mug at your head as retaliation, but you ducked it out of the way. This was what you were going to miss.

“Alright, children,” Fury chuckled. “Second, Sam Wilson will be joining us.” Now you could join the celebration as the man sat beside Maria.

“Where are you shipping us off to, boss?” You asked and crossed your arms.

“We’ll be headed to the border of Ukraine and Russia. We’ve been asked to help refugees leave the country,” you nodded. It was a straightforward mission and not the first time you’d been asked to help people displaced by war. You would distribute food and water, provide security, and entertain the kids. Hopefully, it would be a quick in and out, and you’d be home with your girls.

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“Sam joined the team,” you told Natasha. Your phone rested on your shoulder as you prepared your weapon case.

“I guess Fury found your replacement,” you chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, really good,” you said. You knew the team would be fine without you; even the second team was qualified. “I promise,” you reassured her. You knew she was worried about you. “I just miss you and the girls already. How are they?” Natasha sighed.

“They miss you. Do you want to talk to them?” You wanted to, but you knew if they got on the phone and told you to come home, you would.

“I’ll talk to them when we touch down,” Again, she sighed. “I’ll be safe, baby; you know I always am.” You never told her where you were going or what you were doing. One, it was a security clearance, and two, you never wanted to burden her. There was some close class; you were shot, broke your leg, and had a few concussions. On the other side of the phone, you heard the doorbell. “Are you expecting someone?” You could barely make out the excited yells of the twins.

“Oh fuck me,” Natasha mumbled.

“I wish,” you smirked and left the armory. “Who is it?”

“My fucking parents,” she said. “I may have slipped that you got called in, and they just showed up. Ugh, I may kill them,” you smiled. You liked her parents. Alexei’s chaotic nature and Melina’s dry humor were a perfect dynamic, but you knew it could get on Natasha’s nerves.

“Please don’t, baby,” you said.

“I have to go. Call me when you can,” you smiled. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” you hung up and looked at your lock screen. It was your family at the twin’s party that you barely made it home for. This was why you wanted to be done, not to miss anymore.

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“Mama, I appreciate you and Dad coming, but you did not have to drop everything and come,” Melina waved the redhead off.

“It is the summer. We have it off, and we miss our vnuchki (granddaughters),” Before they stopped over, they must have gone to the grocery store because they brought in bags of food. Usually, they put in a grocery order to drop off when you were deployed. This time, they came along with it. While Natasha and Melina put the food away, Alexei was in charge of entertaining the girls. “You and the girls must be excited, right? This is her last one?” Natasha nodded.

She was ecstatic about your retirement. Natasha would always support you, but when she was happy, you decided to step away. Every time you were called away, anxiety tormented her, wondering if you were going to be okay. “You know, I did not like her at first,” Melina said. Oh, Natasha was well aware. Her mother made it very well known that she disapproved of her relationship.

“I know,” Natasha grabbed the cutting board and washed the strawberries to cut them up. “You made it loud and clear.” Her mother dared to smile.

“But I am glad you are happy,” she said. That is all I have ever wanted for you and your sister.” Natasha knew that, too, and you made her happy. It was strange how similar your past was to hers. You were two young girls desperate for a family. You found family servicing, while Natasha found it in Yelena, Melina, and Alexei, who saved her. Now, you both had a family, and Natasha loved watching you be a part of the family.

Your love for their girls made Natasha fall in love with you repeatedly. She was glad you would witness more milestones in person, not through a photo or video.

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“Shol’ko tebe nuzhno (how many do you need?)” You were grateful now more than ever that your wife and in-laws were Russian. It was easy to communicate with some of those at the camp. The woman held up four fingers, and you gave her four water bottles. “Vashi malyshi golodny (are your little ones hungry)?” Three kids held tight to their mother, terrified of you and your team. You understood why. Soldiers stormed into their homes, dragged their father to the middle of the town square, and shot him along with the other men. Then, a new group of soldiers brought them here. It had to be overwhelming and terrifying. A little girl nodded her head. You smiled and whistled. Maria looked over to you and walked over with a box of snacks. “Vyberite nekoyoryye (pick some),” you told the kids. They looked at their mother for permission. Once she nodded, they dove into the chips, crackers, and cookies box. The three kids took two bags each. “Naslazdat’sya (enjoy),” you waved and walked to the next group.

“You are so disgusting cute with kids, and it’s gross,” Maria teased. You rolled your eyes. Are you and Nat thinking about having more?” It was something you hadn’t talked about, especially given the nature of your job.

“Not sure,” you smiled at the boy as you gave him water. “I guess anything can happen when you retire,” you felt a tug on your shit and looked down. It is the little girl from the mother of three. You expected her to ask for more cookies, but she raised her arms and asked to be picked up. Oh, your heart. Smiling, you dropped your case of water and picked up the girl. Her heart burrowed in the crock of your neck. “Kak vas zovut (what is your name)?”

“Anna,” she whispered. Maria picked up the rest of the water.

“See, disgustingly cute,” you chuckled and ensured Anna was comfortable in your arms before walking over to the tented area. While Clint dug into a Cheetos box, Bucky and Steve organized the shipment.

“That better be part of your snacks, Clinton,” he flipped you off.

“Yes, it is. Laura packed me some before I left. You are free to have some,” he said. “Whose the little girl?”

“Her name is Anna,” Maria told him. She took a liking to our Viper. “You carefully sat down and moved Anna onto your chest.

“You guys are jealous I can make friends wherever I go,” you softly said. You heard Anna’s quiet snores.

“I don’t think they count when those friends are half your size,” Bucky teased.

“They must sense her motherly instinct,” Steve said. “She likes being called mommy outside of the bedroom.” You flipped him off as your team laughed.

“Shut up, Rogers,” you smiled. “What about you and Buck? Wanna have kids one day?” The blonde soldier looked at his boyfriend.

“Maybe one day,” Steve said. “When the fighting is done.” Sam walked over with a case of electrolyte drinks and began to hand them out. You took a sip of the bottle, wrapped your arms around Anna to keep her safe on your chest, and before you closed your eyes, you saw Clint taking a picture of you. When you and Natasha discussed trying for kids, it scared the shit out of you. You had no actual role model to help you be a parent. Yours were more worried about their business instead of their daughter. Something inside you clicked when you held Rose and Hailey for the first time. It was your most significant accomplishment; no medal could compare to it.

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Hailey hated school. It was unfair that it was summer, and she was forced to do work. Even Melina and Alexei were on vacation. However, it was better than being in ‘real’ school. Hailey liked the flexibility of homeschooling, and it helped that Rose, Tommy, and Billy were in the same class.

They were outside in the backyard of the Stark house. Hailey could see Wanda peek out the window every once in a while to check on them. She had to admit that Hailey was jealous of Billy and Tommy because they had both of their parents’ homes. Hailey missed you. She tried not to show it, but when you called, and she got to talk to you, she had to force away her tears. So she did what she does best and joked about everything.

Tommy groaned, and Hailey glanced up at her book. He was already looking at her. It smelt of trouble. “We overheard our dad talking to our mom about the mission your mom is on.”

“Tommy,” Billy warned, but he ignored his brother.

“It’s dangerous. She and the team are helping refugees escape a country torn apart by war,” Hailey kept her eyes locked on Tommy.

“Doesn’t matter how dangerous it is,” Rose said. “Mom always comes back home to us.” It was true. You always came home; when you were back, it was like you never left. You fell back into the routine the family had. Tommy smirked.

“They offered it to Peggy’s team, but I guess she turned it down,” he said. “Because it is so dangerous.” Hailey narrowed her eyes at him.

“What are you getting at, Maximoff?”

“Your mom is going to die.” You and Mama always said she was impulsive. She acted before she thought. She often solved problems with her fist and not her words. This was one of those times she punched Tommy. The force sent him flying out of his chair.

“Hailey!” Rose yelled, but Hailey ignored her sister and jumped on Tommy’s chest. She got a few good hits before Billy pulled her off him.

“What is going on?” Wanda asked, rushing over to them. It looked bad. Blood was pouring out of Tommy’s nose, and Hailey’s fist was bruising. No one would talk badly about her mom, even if someone she called were a friend.

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Hailey was rubbing her knuckles; they hurt, but she kept her thumb on the outside like you taught her. She kept her head down even when Wanda came in and sat beside her on the bed. “I had to call Natasha,” Wanda told her. “The other three aren’t talking, so I’m hoping you can tell me what caused the fight,” Hailey shrugged. Sighing, Wanda gently grabbed her hand and unfolded her fist. She placed a bag of frozen peas in her hand. Hailey let out a slight hiss from the pain. “Tell me what happened. You know your mom is going to want to know what happened.”

“Mama,” Hailey corrected. “Mom isn’t home. She’s never home.”

“It’s her job, honey,” Wanda cooed and pushed Hailey’s hair behind her ear. “But this is her last tour. Then she’ll always be home, and you’ll be sick of her.” Wanda tried to make light of the situation. Hailey smiled, but Tommy’s words echoed in her head.

“What if she doesn’t come home and something bad happens?” She asked and looked at Wanda. “Tommy said she went somewhere really dangerous, and she’s going to die!” Hailey cried. Tears started to run down her cheeks. “I don’t want my mom to die.”

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In the beginning, Natasha thought the couch was a dumb purchase. It was too big for a family of four, but you were persistent that it would be perfect for movie nights. So you compromised: You could get the couch if you built Natasha a small ballet studio in the basement. It was the first project you finished before you left when duty called. Now Natasha loved the couch, and you were right. It was perfect for movies.

Her girls were cuddled up by her side. Kate and Yelena were on one side, and there was still enough space for Melina and Alexei to watch the movie. Her family was together besides you. Wanda told her about the fight and what Tommy said. Her neighbor promised that the boy would be grounded, but Natasha was more worried about her abnormally quiet daughter. When she picked them up, Hailey refused to talk about what happened. Even her sister took up Hailey’s value of silence.

Natasha kissed the top of Hailey’s head and snuggled closer to her. “Mom is going to come home, right?” Hailey whispered. She tried to keep her voice quiet to avoid disrupting the movie.

“Of course, baby,” Natasha said. “She always comes home to us.”

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“Samuel,” you groaned. “Pass the ball to me, not 10 feet in front of me,” you huffed as you moved Anna up your back. Her arms wrapped tighter around your neck, almost cutting your air supply off.

“Sorry, Viper. Playing soccer wasn’t on my entrance exam to the academy,” Sam said. You laughed. It was a great pass, and if a 60-pound girl weren’t dangling on your back, you would have had it. Anna was attached to your hip from when you woke up until she returned to her mother for bed. It was cute, even though she reminded you of your girls at home.

However, your job was to provide security and supplies to the refugees. Your team liked to have some fun with them. So you, Steve, and Sam found a soccer ball and started a pickup game. At first, Anna joined the other kids and chased after the ball. However, it took one accidental shove from a boy to send the girl to the ground, and she asked to be on your back. Besides, you liked listening to Anna’s laugh. It made the situation she found herself in better.

The work was slow. Only small batches of people could leave each day. It broke your head when you told a family they had to go. But you knew they would be safe. However, you were unsure when they could come home when they asked. With the ongoing war, there may not be a home to return to.

“Here,” Sam ran up to you with a water bottle. Carefully, he put the open bottle to your lips. You got a good portion of the liquid on your shirt.

“Thanks,” you deadpanned, and Anna giggled at your antics. You and the team had been here for a week and a half. While you worked, you overheard conversations between the refugees that you quickly translated into your head. They couldn’t keep track of who was winning this ‘war.’ You never asked Fury who these people were fleeing from. It made no difference to you. The people here were trying to survive.

Then, the peace was shattered.

Gunfire - a rapid, staccato from the gate. Your team wasn’t the only military unit assigned to this camp. Today, you weren’t assigned to the gate. Anna’s arms tightened around your neck, almost crushing around your windpipe. Unfortunately, you had to set her down. “No! No!” She struggled.

“Anna!” You placed her on the ground and knelt to her level. “Go to your Mama. Stay hidden,” you heard Steve call out your name. Not your nickname but your real name. You knew it was bad. “I will find you.” Tears were swelling in her eyes and running down her cheeks.

“Safe,” she said, throwing her body back into your arms. “Stay safe.” Anna hugged you as tight as she could.

“Run, little one,” you stood up and watched her run off.

“Viper!” You caught the assault rifle without looking towards Maria.

“Where do you need me?” You asked, taking the safety off.

“West side with Wilson. Barton and I will take the East while Barnes and Rogers are at the front.” She instructed.

“Got it,” you smiled at your Commander. Are there drinks on you tonight?” Maria chuckled, shaking her head.

“You are impossible.” You shrugged and ran to the West side. Sam was already in position. The man smiled at you.

“Got you a few more of these,” he handed you two magazines.”

“Always thinking, Falcon,” you placed them on your vest. “Stay close. Stay vigilante,” you squeezed his shoulder. “We will make it out of this. Besides,” you smirked. “Hill is buying the first round.” Sam huffed out a laugh.

“People on the second team think you are insane,” you laughed. You’ve heard the stories, most of which are just legends and myths. But the good thing about a legend is that there is a tiny element of truth.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion rocked the eastern side. Screams followed. The refugees scattered, running for cover as people dressed in black tactical gear. Your heat dropped to your stomach - fear paralyzed you as you thought of Maria and Clint. But they were capable soldiers.

Besides, an explosion on the south wall caught your attention. Similar to the east side, a group of armed soldiers came through. Shit. They were moving towards the tent that Anna and her family were in. “Viper, go,” Sam said. “I got this side.” You wanted to run and protect that little girl and her family. However, the insurgents gave you your answer. The west side exploded. You acted on instinct to push Sam to the ground and covered your body with his as debris fell to the ground.

Your ears started to ring, but you got to your knees. A soldier from a different team took a round to his chest, crumbling to the ground next to you. You couldn’t remember his name. Raising your gun, you squeezed the trigger. One of the assailants dropped. Another flinched as a bullet grazed their shoulder, but the rest kept coming. They moved like ghosts, slipping between shadows.

It meant one thing: this attack was planned.

Sluggishly, you started to stand as a blade of pain ripped through your side—the blunt impact air from your lungs. You stumbled back and stared at the person who attacked you. Their gender was hidden behind their tactical gear, but they were shorter than you. Soon, you were surrounded. The yells and screams of the camp around you turned to white noise. All that mattered was getting out of this situation.

To your shock, they rushed you at once. Hands seized you, rough and unyielding, and dragged you to the ground. You fought, elbows slamming into bodies. A knee was pressed to your chest and pinned you.

Above you, a face was hidden behind a mask, with only their eyes visible—cold and calculating. “She is the one,” the figure muttered.

The figure was female. That wasn’t a surprise, but they sounded so young. One of the assailants hit you with the back of their gun. Darkness was creeping in. You struggled to fight it. The last thing you heard was the yell of the surviving refugees and the fading crackle of gunfire.

Then-nothing.

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“Viper, Viper,” your name was repeated repeatedly. It was an annoying mantra that pounded against your skull, and you groaned.

“5 more minutes, Ria,” you mumbled. The sound of Maria’s pained laughter jolted you awake. “Fuck my head,” you groaned and pushed your palms to your temples. It felt like the morning after drinking with Steve and Bucky. They treated shots like sips of water. You rolled on your back and blinked your eyes a few times so the room could come into view. “Are you okay, Hill?” You asked. She let out a shaky breath.

“Ribs are bruised, and my ears are still ringing from the explosions, but I’m good,” you nodded. Your ears were ringing, too. You remembered pushing Sam to the ground as bullets flew above you. Touching the side of your head, you felt dried blood. Slowly, you sat up. You were in a cell with bars on all four sides, and Maria was across in her cell that mirrored yours. Cells were up and down this hallway, but no one else was there. Maria was sitting on the back wall with her arm around her ribs.

“Natasha is going to kill me,” you chuckled. Maria laughed but grimaced in pain.

“How are we getting out of this, Viper?” You clicked your tongue on the top of your mouth.

“I’m working on it. " You had promised to return home and were going to keep that promise.

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Everything was muffled. It was like Clint was in an episode of The Peanuts, and the adults were talking. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and he was in a hospital bed. Not in Ukraine. Not in a refugee camp where gunshots ran and explosions rattled his bones. He was safe, but who wasn’t? “Clint? Clint? Are you up?” He saw Sam sitting next to him. “Can you hear me?” He could, but the ringing in his ears grew, and it sounded like Sam was in a fish bowl. His voice was distorted and echoed. “I’ll go get a nurse.” He spoke slowly and left. Sam was alive and safe. Good. No, he had to figure out about the rest of his team.

The doctors diagnosed him with NIHL (noise-induced hearing loss) and gave him hearing aids. The damage was caused by years of explosions during his years of service. The diagnosis signed his ticket home. He knew he could no longer be an active team member and was waiting for Fury to deliver the news. “Bucky is in surgery,” Sam spoke slowly and softly so Clint could get used to the hearing aids. “An explosion took off his arm. There was so much blood.”

“Jesus,” Clint mumbled as he sipped the water the nurse had brought him. Where are we?”

“Fury got us to Poland while a medical team and the secondary team got to send to help the refugees,” Clint was glad there were some survivors. “From our body cams, it was a well-organized attack. They struck us and captured some of the young girls. Stark and his team are reviewing the footage now,” Okay, that is where Clint wanted to be. He was going to save those girls that were taken. First, he needed to check on you, Maria, and Steve. Carefully, he stood up and cringed at the ache in his bones. Damn, maybe he was getting too old for this.

“Thanks for the update,” he grasped the man’s arm. “How are you, Falcon?”

“Just a grade 1 concussion. It would have been worse if Viper didn’t push me out of the way,” just the mention of your nickname tugged at Clint’s heart. He needed to see you and confirm you were safe. He figured you were with Fury going over the next phase of the plan since Sam did not include you in his update. Sam grabbed his wrist as soon as his hand left Sam’s arm. “Clint,” the man said slowly. His eyes told him everything.

“Where is Viper?” Clint asked.

“MIA,” Clint turned to look at Fury, who entered his room. “Her and Maria both.” It was hard to read the man. Clint could never figure out what he was feeling.

“Send me back,” Clint insisted. His boss glared at him with his good eye.

“And do what, Barton? Wander the border between Ukraine and Russia until you find them.” It was a stupid idea, but you and Maria were his friends long before he was on the team. Hell, you guys were family. “You are to go home. You are medically discharged,” Fury relaxed his posture. “Go be with Laura and the kids, Clint.” He was being sent home while you and Maria were being subjected to horrific things. But it was an order.

“I want to be the one to tell Natasha,” he said, feeling his throat dry. “She’ll take it better if it’s coming from me.”

“Request approved.” Fury took a few steps forward and touched Clint’s shoulder. “We’ll bring them home.” Clint knew they would, but in what condition?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The silence was killing you. You and Maria tried to fill, but your injuries were aching. You were trained for moments like this. Everyone called it hell week, and the instructors taught you how to survive the most difficult situations. Torture was a mind game, a cat-and-mouse chase on who would lose first. “I would kill for a cheeseburger right now,” Maria said. You shook your head with a smile. “I’m not lying. A big burger with a side of onion rings and a tall milkshake.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall. “Come on, Viper. What food do you want now?” Your stomach growled.

“My mother-in-law’s piroshki,” Melina would make it every time she visited. “It’s a little puff pastry with cheese, potatoes, and meat.” One night, Melina found you after a bad nightmare eating the leftovers. You knew she did not like you - the reason was why it was still a mystery. That night, you had a heart-to-heart with her over a plate of piroshki and a bottle of wine.

“Mhm,” Maria moaned. “I love cheese.” You chuckled, but the sound of a door opening cut it off. You stayed still, and a group of girls stopped before your cell. They weren’t much older than your girls, 15, maybe 16. Two were armed with AK-47s. The closer to you pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a small part of the cell.

“Put your hands through,” she ordered. Her voice was laced with a Russian accent. It was a weird deja vu moment. The girl was a splitting image of a young blonde you saw pictures of in a photo album and a photo strip on the side of Natasha’s bed. You refused to follow orders, and the girls with the guns pointed them at you and Maria. “I will not ask again, Viper. We have orders to bring you unharmed, but we can use force if you and Commander fail to comply.”

She sounded like she was trained in a military setting. What was going on here? You were told that many war-torn countries looked to fill their armies with children. But seeing it in person was unsettling. Slowly, you stood up and put your hands through the opening. Handcuffs were placed on wrists. Your eyes locked on Maria’s. You tried to communicate your thoughts and comply with more straightforward commands, and it was not worth getting hurt this early on.

Once Maria’s cuffs were on, they unlocked the main door, allowing you to leave your cell. It was a smart formation. You and Maria were between the four girls, and the barrel of their AK-47 was pressed against your back.

The girl in front led you up a staircase and pushed open the door. So you were in the basement of a school. You walked past lockers and classrooms that were transformed. Some looked like regular classrooms with desks and a chalkboard. In comparison, others were empty, except a ballet bar. Every room had a window to look into it.

You were brought to the main entrance and saw two armed guards. They weren’t young girls but closer to your age. You walked to where the principal office would be. The door was opened, and you and Maria were pushed inside. There was a fire that was lighting up the room. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the heat from the fire. A hand on your back pushed you further into the room, where a man sat behind a desk. His eyes trailed up and down your body. Behind him was a woman. Her blonde hair was cut short, and she wore a navy blue skirt and shirt. “Please have a seat,” the man said. There was no choice as you were forced to sit down in front of the desk. The four girls took their spots at each corner, standing at attention and waiting for their orders. You could tell it was something they’d done before.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked. A kettle was already boiling. Still, you and Maria remained silent. The woman scuffed. “It is rude not to treat your host without respect.” She walked over to a table where the kettle was. You saw photos hanging above it, but you were too far away to make out what they were.

“It’s also rude to not make introductions,” Maria said.

“And kidnapping,” you mumbled. The man smiled, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. It was unsettling.

“Welcome to shkolv v kransoy komnate,” the red room school, you translated in your head. “Here, we pride ourselves in developing elite soldiers,” She returned with two cups of tea, and he took one. “Thank you, darling,” she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“You make soldiers out of young girls,” you clarified.

“Look at them,” the woman pointed to the girls in the corner. These girls were trash, thrown out into the street. We recycle the trash, and we give them purpose. We give them a life. “That was up for some debate.

“What do you want from us?” Maria questioned. The man sipped on his tea.

“You two are world famous. The Viper and the Commander. We have a new shipment of recruits and want you to train them.” Shipments? These girls weren’t shipments. They were human beings, but they spoke about them like they were cargo. It was making your blood boil, and you struggled to keep cool.

“What if we refuse?” you questioned. Are you going to have one of those girls put a bullet in our head and call it a day?” The man chuckled and held up a photo. The young girl closest to him walked over and took it without a word. She handed it to you, face down. You hesitated but turned the photo over.

The instructors taught you how to contain your emotions in the same hell week. They said your captures would say and do things to get underneath your skin. Your captures wanted to cloud your judgment. Angry and fear were powerful and dangerous to feel.

When you flipped the picture over and saw a picture of your girls, keeping your face neutral was near impossible, and your hand crumbled on the edge of the photo. The photo was taken at their home school program when you were at last deployment. How long were your family being watched, and you weren’t there to protect them? “Beautiful children,” he said. Finally, you tore your eyes off the picture. He knew he won and trapped you into a deal by dangling your family above your head. “Show your friend,” you showed Maria the picture. Her face stayed composed, but you heard the sharp inhalation.

The man stood from his chair and circled to the front of his desk. “From here on out, you will work for me. Every order will be followed. Do you understand?”

“Who the hell are you people?” Maria questioned. You were wondering the same thing.

“It is our network of Widows that help us control the scales of power,” the woman walked over to the girl who reminded you of Yelena. She pushed some of her blonde hair out of her that didn’t make it into the braid. “One command, the oil and stock markets crumble. One command and a quarter of the planet will starve. Our Widows can start and end wars.” They were insane. You had no other way to describe them.

“And now,” the man said, putting his hand under your chin and holding you in place. You will be part of it. " He dropped his hold on you, but you could still feel it there. Take them back to their cell.”

As the four girls lead you out of their office, your eyes found a picture on the bookshelf. Your stomach dropped. It felt like you were on a roller coaster which you hated going on. The twins and Natasha always made fun of you when you would hold the bags while she took the girls on the ride. They could never understand how you could jump out of a helicopter, but roller coasters were a no-go for you. But now your stomach was flipping, and you tried to calm your face as you saw a younger version of your wife in the picture. Young Natasha was at a ballet bar with the woman you just meant behind her. Now, it was impossible to get your emotions buried down. Your Natasha was here. These monsters hurt your beautiful, strong, and kind wife. At that moment, you knew. You were going to burn this place to the fucking ground.

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“Girls, do you have your backpacks? Natasha asked.

“Yes, Mom!” They called from their spot on the couch. She saw their backpacks on the kitchen table. At least they were packed. Natasha suggested going to the National Mall with Alexei and Melina. She thought it would be a nice way to spend time together as a family. The busier Hailey and Rose were, the easier it was for their mind not to wander to you, especially with what happened between Hailey and Tommy. The hurtful words the boy said were still fresh in Hailey’s mind. Natasha could tell. She caught Hailey looking at pictures of you around the house or at the garage door opening to see you walk through it.

The doorbell rang, and before Natasha could get to it, she heard the door open, and her girls exclaim, ��Uncle Clint!” Usually, the unexpected visit would be welcomed, but it froze Natasha in her spot in the kitchen.

“Hi, kiddos,” her friend said. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s in the kitchen,” Rose answered. Natasha heard their approaching footsteps. “We are going to the Lincoln Memorial.” Thankfully, Melina walked from their guest room.

“Sounds fun,” Clint forced a smile. He stood in front of Natasha, dressed in his off-duty uniform. She could pick out new bruises and cuts from their latest mission. Was he wearing hearing aids now? “Hi Nat,” Melina glanced between the two.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go help your grandfather,” Melina said. “His outfit is a little extreme.” The twins giggled and ran off to their grandfather. As Melina passed Natasha, she kissed her daughter on the temple.

“Were you able to bring her home?” Natasha asked once she was alone with him. If anything, she could do was give you a proper burial. It was what you deserved. Clint twisted his hat in his hands.

“She’s MIA,” Clint told her. “Her and Maria were taken after a refuge camp we were ordered to protect was attacked,” he exhaled slowly. “Bucky was in surgery, Steve was shot, and Sam and I were the least injured,” Natasha blinked at the man. Missing. You and Maria were missing. Kidnapped and taken to go who knows where and the rest of the team were in shambles. She was getting flashbacks of her childhood - the smell of death and the rocking of shipping containers that sometimes kept her up at night.

“Clint,” she said slowly and felt her knees buckle. He was quick to catch her before she hit the ground.

“I know, I know,” he kept repeating. “I’ll find her. I’ll bring her home. I promise.”

Everything happened in a blur around her. Clint helped her tell Melina, which her mother told Alexei. Somehow, her house was filled with people—Laura and her kids, Wanda and the twins, and Yelena. Even with all these people, she felt alone. But she had her girls to worry about. When her chest was aching, and she wanted to overcome the agony she was feeling, she tapped into her training, pulled up her mask, and pretended to be strong.

Natasha sat down with Hailey and Rose in their room with Melina, and the door closed. She told them the truth; she never liked lying to them. Watching their faces fall and the light leave their eyes was heartbreaking. “Mom is missing,” Rose said slowly as if she was trying to understand. Natasha nodded.

“Yes, but all your aunts and uncles are looking for her.”

“And Aunt Maria is with her,” Natasha nodded again at Rose’s statement. She turned to look at Hailey, who was holding onto the necklace you gifted them. The girls never took them off.

“The bad guys took Mom,” Hailey whispered. “Why did she leave us if it was dangerous?” Natasha watched tears leave Hailey’s eyes. Carefully, the girl climbed onto Natasha’s lap and burrowed her face into the crock of her neck. Natasha felt the tears against her skin. Melina walked into the room, and Rose hugged her right.

“Your mother,” Melina said. “Is strong just like her girls and wife.” She ran her hand over Hailey’s back and then to Natasha’s cheek. It was subconsciously for Natasha to lean into her mother’s touch. “It is okay to be safe and scared now, but believe in it and have hope you will all be together again.” Natasha closed her eyes and felt a few of her tears out that Melina’s hand caught.

This was supposed to be their last one. The last one to endure as a family. Why was this happening now?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Your time in the service taught you a number of things: teamwork, the importance of companionship, and critical thinking. Above all else, it taught you patience. Some would argue you lacked patience, but you were patient when it mattered.

Patience won Natasha’s heart, gained the trust and acceptance of your mother-in-law, and allowed you to mediate fights between your daughters. Now, you were lacking that very skill.

Your fingers were interlocked behind your neck, squeezing the tension you carried. The silence was maddening and taunting. So you filled it with pacing - the sound of your boots hitting the concrete floor. “Maybe if you pace some more, you’ll pace a hole into the floor, and we can escape through it,” you glared at Maria, who was lying on the ground. An arm was thrown over her eyes. While you paced, Maria tapped her foot. You weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand still.

“I have to get out of this fucking cell,” you said. Maria scuffed.

“Yeah, no fucking shit,” you stopped pacing and grabbed onto the bars. Your head hung low. “I’m guessing you didn’t know,” you glanced up as Maria stared back at you. “About Nat. I saw her picture, too.” You let out a shaky breath and shook your head.

No. You had no idea the true horrors of your wife’s past. It wasn’t easy for either of you to open up about your life before you met each other. As your relationship grew, so did the trust. But why would she keep this from you? “I need to get out of here,” you repeated.

“And do what? Burn this place to the ground, kill those bastards, and save the girls?” Yes! Yes! That was precisely the plan.

“Yes,” you told her.

“God, you are reckless,” you stood up straighter but kept your hands on the bar. “You know Fury was worried about putting you on this team. He said that big heart of yours was going to get you killed.”

“Do you expect me to sit here and watch while innocent children are getting tortured into soldiers?”

“No!” Maria slammed her hand against the floor. “I expect you to think, Viper. We have no way to reach the team. We have no idea where we are or how large their operation is,” she pushed herself up, and you saw the slight wince. Her ribs were still bothering her. So think, plan, then engage, or you’ll never see your family again.”

Patience. You needed patience and a clear head to make it through this. Going rouge wasn’t going to help. It was only going to endanger your and Maria’s life. You squeezed the bars and sighed. “You’re right,” you slowly sat down and crossed your legs. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s why I’m in charge, and you aren’t,” she managed to make you chuckle. Maria moved closer to the set of bars, and you were face-to-face with each other. “I’m jealous of you,” your eyes widened in shock. “You have something to pull you away from all of this,” she waved her hand in a circle, but you knew what she meant. The service. The team. All the fighting and bloodshed for national security would be over for you. Your family gave you an option to walk away.

“What about Danvers?”

“Please,” Maria rolled her eyes. “I think she’s married to her job, and I’m the other woman.” You chuckled softly.

“You could walk away for yourself,” you whispered. “Might be better than why I’m leaving.” You would die for this job if it weren’t for Natasha or your daughters. For the longest time, it seemed like the only option. The core saved you; the only way to repay it would be to die for it. That idea seemed lonely.

Before Maria could respond, you heard the main door open and scrambled to your feet. Maria was slower to get up. This group was smaller than before: two instead of four. Still, it was the same blonde from before. “Hands through,” she ordered, and you listened.

“What’s your name?” you asked the blonde. She seemed surprised you asked a personal question, but she recovered quickly.

“Mila,” she answered. You smiled.

“Beautiful name,” Once Maria was handcuffed, she opened the cell doors. You stood between Mila and the girl with the assault rifle.

Think, plan, and then engage. That was the motto of the team. Think - you knew you needed to get out of here, save the girls, and return to your family. It is an enormous task, but not impossible. The problem was there were questions you needed answers to. How were they running their operation? How many guards were on their payroll? How many girls were there? Plan and engage would have to wait until you could answer some questions.

Mila opened two metal doors and led you into a large room that used to be the school’s gym. “Welcome to the first training,” the man said, his hands together. This is your new group.” The tip of the assault rifle pushed you forward.

In front of you was a group of girls between ages 6 and 13. A quick count in your head: there are 12 in total. They were dirty, bruised, and terrified. You forced your hands into a tight fist to stop yourself from punching him. All around the border of the room were guards armed with assault rifles.

You drew your focus back to the girls, eyes squinting at them. They looked familiar. The explosion may have rattled your brain more than you thought. It clicked when a young girl looked up from previously looking at the floor. Her eyes locked on yours. “Anna,” you mumbled. All these girls were from the refugee camp. Her eyes went wide at the realization of who you were. You tried to convey with your face to stay, but she refused.

It happened quickly. Anna stood up and pushed her way through the crowd. Immediately, the guns were pointed at her.

“Vniz (down),” you ordered to her. Anna went down, and you rushed forward, sliding onto your knees so your body covered hers. “Vse normal’no (it’s okay),” you whispered into her hair. You saw her grab onto her shirt. Her entire body was shaking. “Sh,” you cooed. “Be strong, little one.”

“Interesting,” you heard his footsteps walk over. His hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you up. Once you were up, the man grabbed Anna and dragged you to her feet. “You have a little pet,” he said.

“Don’t hurt you,” you moved forward. You felt a kick to the back of your knee and fell forward. The muzzle of the gun was on the back of your head.

“What is your name?” he asked her. You were shocked by the way Anna struggled against him. “What is her name?” he asked you, but you remained quiet. You heard the safety of the gun click.

“Anna,” Maria answered. “Her name is Anna.” You glared at your friend and shook your head.

“Anna,” he pulled the girl closer to him. Her eyes danced over her. You have a fire in you. It reminds me of someone else,” he whispered the last part. That is enough for today.” Once again, you were brought to your feet and brought back to your cell.

But the entire time you walked, your mind was somewhere else. In that slight reaction, you learned something. He graved control, order, and submissiveness. Someone fought back and won. And you knew exactly who it was.

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Clint’s first stop was the medical unit of SHIELD. He had a quick meeting with Dr. Cho about his condition and the steps he could take to regain his hearing. He was barely paying attention. His eyes were glued to Steve. The blonde looked like he hadn’t slept since the attack. Dr. Cho handed him a pamphlet and sent him on his way. Immediately, he walked over to Steve and sat down. “He hasn’t woken up,” the blonde said. “The doctors said that it’s normal, but it’s killing me,” Clint nodded and saw Bucky lying in bed. His arm was missing, and his gaze covered the missing limb. “How’s Natasha?” Steve asked. Clint wasn’t sure.

“She’s holding it together for the girls.” Once he was done here, he checked on her again. Right now, Laura and Wanda are looking after her. “How’s the shoulder?” Steve’s left arm was in a sling.

“Bullet went right through,” Steve sighed. “Destroyed some of the muscles, so I’ll be out for a while,” the blonde ran his good hand through his hair. “We fucked up on this one, didn’t we?” That was an understatement, but Clint knew you would never blame them. It was part of the job. Sometimes, the mission went wrong.

“One hell of a last one for her,” Clint tried to joke, but Steve frowned.

“Hell of a last one for all of us, I think.”

He stepped away and found an empty room to take his hearing aids out. It was a feeling he was trying to get used to. Every sound was different, more intense, sharper. At the moment, the team had no leads. No group was taking responsibility for the attack. Facial recognition was a dead end. The only thing they knew was their attackers were girls between the ages of 10 and 16.

It was maddening. The longer they went without information, the less likely they would find you alive. That thought turned Clint’s stomach. Sighing, he placed them back in his ears and pulled out his phone. Laura answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?” He hated how worried she sounded.

“Yeah,” he licked his lips. “I just needed a break, and I wanted to check in. How are they?” Laura sighed.

“Hailey and Rose have been quiet. The kids are trying to get them to play, and Natasha,” she paused. “I don’t know Clint. I’m worried.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you coming back here or back home?”

“Probably there,” he answered.

“Okay. She needs you,” Clint closed his eyes. “I know you want to be there and help, but-”

“I’ll leave here soon,” he cut her off. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he hung up before she could say anything else. It was a little selfish of him. If he were here, he wouldn’t see the hole left by your absence, and the guilt wouldn’t be as strong. If he were here in his mind, you wouldn’t be gone.

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Nights were Natasha’s least favorite when you were deployed. It made your absence more challenging than it already was. Now, with the knowledge of you being gone, the night was the worst. She changed into one of your long sleeves and walked to her daughter’s room. The door was cracked open, and Natasha peered inside. They pushed their beds together and had one giant sleepover with the Maximoff twins, Lila and Nate. It looked cramped, but Natasha was thankful her girls were sleeping. The only kid that was missing from the cuddle puddle was Cooper.

But Natasha found the eldest Barton quickly. He was sitting awake in Hailey’s bean bag chair, but she could tell he was fighting sleep. Cooper sent her a small wave, and Natasha titled her head in question. “Keeping watch,” he whispered. “It was the only way they’d fall asleep.”

She was grateful for the eldest Barton. “Get some sleep,” she whispered. “If you need me, come get me.” Cooper gave her a thumbs up and got comfortable in the chair. Natasha quietly closed the door and continued to the kitchen, which wasn’t empty. She knew he would be there with a bottle of whiskey. He was expecting her, too, indicating by the second glass. Wordlessly, he poured the glass, and she sat next to him. They drank in silence until Natasha’s glass was almost halfway gone. “It wasn’t your fault, Clint. I don’t blame any of you for what happened.” Her friend sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“They both saved lives. She pushed Sam to the ground, and Maria got to me.” That sounded like you and Maria. You were always ready to save others before yourself. Natasha smiled.

“Then I’m glad I’m not mourning your life while worried about my wife’s life,” Clint looked at her.

“We’ll bring her home,” he promised. Natasha finished her drink and poured herself another. She wasn’t dumb. She knew he phrased the sentence to avoid saying “alive” or “dead.” They would find you and Maria, she had no doubt. But would you be alive? Natasha wasn’t sure.

Yelena was worried when Natasha told her you and she would try to have kids. She knew her sister would be a great mother but worried about how she would handle the responsibility of being an aunt. Over time, she learned to love her nieces and fell into her role quickly. She prided herself on understanding their cues. She could stop a fight before it broke out. If Rose was feeling overwhelmed, Yelena knew how she liked to decompress. At her office at work, each bad she had, and various places around her home, she kept fidget toys for Hailey.

Now, they were quiet. They barely greeted her and only took a pop tart to eat, even when Yelena was cooking other food. At least they were eating. They sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Yelena kept her eye on them while finishing breakfast. The house was filled with many people, so many bellies needed to be filled.

She felt a hand on her lower back and a kiss to her temple. “Morning, sweetheart.” Yelena smiled as Kate sat down at the counter with her laptop.

“Are you working?” Yelena asked.

“I want to re-watch the body cam footage with fresh eyes. We must be missing something,” Yelena turned her back to Kate and poured coffee for both of them.

“Isn’t that a breach of security?” the blonde asked. She wasn’t sure how Natasha dealt with the stress of watching you leave. She was thankful Kate never saw combat. Her girlfriend was in the cyber division alongside Vision. Yelena would leave her veterinarian job and have dinner with Kate almost every night. There was no need to worry about her girlfriend’s safety. Kate shrugged.

“As long as I don’t get caught,” the blonde rolled her eyes and placed Kate’s coffee beside her. With a quick kiss on Kate’s cheek, she was about to resume cooking when she saw the footage Kate was watching.

It was like someone injected ice into her veins. She felt frozen in her spot. A lot of Yelena’s childhood was fuzzy. She had no memory of her biological parents, and she bounced between foster homes. Until a woman brought her to a place of nightmares, hours were spent training with a gun in her hand she could barely hold. She tried to forget all of it. Sometimes nightmares woke her up, and Kate had to calm her down, but she never told her what they were about. But then she met Natasha, Melina, and Alexei. The place of nightmares offered a light at the end of the tunnel because she got a family, and her family got her out. Melina promised them they were safe - that the claws of that place could no longer get to them.

“Hey, Kate, can you watch the food? I want to check on Nat,” Kate nodded. Immediately, she closed her laptop and took Yelena’s spot in the kitchen. Yelena quickly walked to her sister’s room. Her mind was spiraling. It couldn’t be them. Melina told them he was dead and that they were safe. The sight in front of her pulled her out of her thoughts.

Natasha was asleep. Her breathing was muffled, no doubt from her tears, and Yelena wasn’t blinded to the half-empty liquor bottle on her nightstand. Carefully, Yelena closed the door. It was unfair to Natasha to deal with this problem. It could be nothing, and Natasha needed sleep. Sighing, Yelena went to find Melina. Her mother was in the backyard, working on a garden bed. Melina looked up and frowned. “What’s wrong? Is it the girls? Natasha?” Yelena shook her head.

“I think I know who attacked the camp,” Yelena said, playing with the rings on her fingers. Melina stood up and whipped the dirt off her hands onto her pants. “He’s alive, mama,” she whispered. “The Red Room is back.”

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At this point, you were used to the routine. Mila would come with another girl, and they would bring you to the gym. They were also responsible for bringing you food, to the bathroom, and for providing medical treatment. It seemed Dreykov and Madame B wanted you and Maria in tip-top shape.

Dreykov. At night, you would whisper his name as a mantra. You heard it from some guards as you passed. Like their boss, they had an ego. So many times, you saw them mess with the girls. They would drag some of the older girls away, and when they returned, the guards would have a smirk on their faces while the girls had new bruises.

Their rotation seemed random. Maybe that was the point of keeping you and the girls confined. But there were always two at the front entrance and one by the armory, which was locked with a fingerprint scanner.

From your analysis, this ‘school’ was the only one, but they had girls stationed worldwide. The girls who graduated were called Widows. This leads you to another question on your list: How was Dreykov able to manage all of them? The man was a monster, but he ran an organized operation.

“Again,” you translated Maria’s order into Russian. The group reran the move you and Maria taught them. It was a simple one-leg take down. It required a solid stance that attacked one of your opponent’s legs. You would use your strength to off-balance your opponent. They ran it a few times, and right away, you could see who was stronger than the others. God, you hated this. You felt like a monster.

A loud commotion drew your attention. The metal doors swung open, and Madame B came in with her hand tangled in the girl’s hair. You believed her name was Emilia. She was one of the girls that would sometimes be with Mila. She was set to graduate soon.

“Attention,” the woman ordered. The group you were teaching quickly stood up, arms behind their back and posture straight. They created a circle, and Madame B and Emilia stood in the center. “A little lesson for all of you,” Maria looked at you, confused by what she said. It was Dreykov’s slow step that forced you to look forward. He stood between you and Maria. “That your loyalty is to us. Your life is in our hands,” she released Emilia’s hair. The poor girl fell to her knees. Her tears were silent, but you could see them. “If we smell disloyalty, it is over.”

The feeling of dread filled your stomach. Surprisingly, Emilia pulled herself up, kneeling tall and proud. You and Maria took a step forward. “I would not do that,” Dreykov mumbled. “Or do you forget who you serve?” Your feet became glued to the spot as Madame B raised her gun.

“Fuck you,” Emilia hissed. Then the gun went off, and Emilia fell back. Her blood pooled on the gym floor. The girls in the circle flinched from the sound. You could see Anna’s body shaking with fear.

Death was something you were used to. You’ve seen it, caused some of it, and tried to stop it. Emilia was not the first child you’ve seen die. But something inside you snapped. A blinding rage filled your body. “A shame,” you looked at Dreykov. “She had potential.” He kissed the jewel he wore around his neck. “Dispose of her.” Dreykov turned to leave the gym.

“You are a coward,” you said and turned around to look at him

“Excuse?” He asked.

“Did I stutter? You are a fucking coward. Is that why you chose little girls? You knew grown men wouldn’t listen to you,” you took a step forward and ignored the way Maria said your name. Not Viper. Not your code name. Dreykov chuckled. “You are weak. You and that bitch,” you gestured to the woman behind you. Emilia was no more than 15. Her whole life was ahead of her, and she was robbed of it. Dreykov’s smile dipped slightly.

“Do not start something you can not finish,” he warned. You laughed.

“Oh, I’ll finish it, and when I’m down with you, no one is going to recognize you,” you said, taking a few more steps forward. “You think you are unbeatable, yet I know someone who beat you,” you smiled and leaned next to his ear. “Natasha.”

You broke something inside of him because he punched you. It wasn’t strong, but it surprised you, and you stumbled back. You went to fight back but, “Viper!” You looked at Maria. She was on her knees with a gun to the back of her head. You looked behind you, and the girls were in a similar position.

“Don’t you see,” Dreykov began to circle you. “Real power comes from undetectable influence. I believe someone needs to be reminded of it.” A quick kick to the back of your knees sent you tumbling forward. He was quick to grab you by your chin. “Guards tie her up.”

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Natasha woke up to silence, which was odd because of how packed her house was. She splashed cold water on her face and took pain medication. She kept her long sleeve on and walked into the living room, where she found Yelena, Melina, and Alexei. They were whispering in Russian and stopped when they saw Natasha. “Where are my daughters?” she asked.

“At Wanda’s,” Melina forced a smile. “Can you sit with us?” Natasha hesitated.

“Did they find them?” Yelena shook her head.

“No,” she simply said, patting the spot beside her. “Kate is going to show you the body cam footage from the team,” she looked at her family, confused.

“I don’t want to see this,” Natasha stated. “I don’t.” Alexei placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It is important, malen’kaya roza (little rose),” he said. “And we will be right here, okay?” No, she wanted to scream. Instead of that, she nodded, and Kate came from the kitchen. She placed her laptop on the coffee table.

“Fury gave us clearance, so we aren’t breaking any laws,” Kate teased. Natasha was grateful for the girl’s attempt to make light of the situation. Her palms felt sweaty, and she rubbed them together. Kate opened the laptop and hit the space bar to play the video.

At first, Natasha was unaware of why they were making her watch this. Kate edited the footage so she was watching four views at a time—yours, Sam’s, Maria’s, and Steve’s. She was watching Sam’s while he passed you a soccer ball, and you laughed when you missed it. It tugged at Natasha’s heartstrings, watching you play with the little girl on your back.

Suddenly, it changed. Everyone was taking fire while gunshots rang and explosions rocketed the cameras. She saw the people responsible for the attack on Steve’s camera first. They moved with precision - with agility that was taught. The same way Natasha and Yelena were taught. Those lessons came to her in the form of nightmares now - hours spent at a ballet bar or with a gun in her hand. But it was impossible. The Red Room was gone.

“Dreykov,” she mumbled and slammed the laptop closed. Her hands shook as she stared at Melina. “You told us he was dead. You promised that we were safe.” Melina’s face paled.

“I thought we were,” she said. “He was in there when the building exploded,” Natasha vividly remembered that day. She sat in the passenger seat while Melina drove the car. Sometimes, the heat of the explosion kept her up at night. Kate stood up from her kneeling position.

“I need all of you to come down to headquarters and tell us everything you can remember about Dreykov,” she said. “The more you tell us, the better the odds of finding her and Maria are.”

Once upon a time Melina and Alexei made Natasha promise to never speak about the Red Room. Yelena was to young to fully understand what they were trained to do. For a young age, so much blood covered Natasha’s hands. Her ledger was just as long as yours. She was lucky Melina and Alexei saved her or she would have been killed or in jail for her crimes.

As she sat with Fury and Peggy Carter, Melina made sure all of them received pardons for the crimes they committed under Dreykov’s abuse. Once the deal was created and her family signed it, Natasha began to tell her story.

She was taken from a foster home and placed in a shipping container along with other girls. It reeked of blood and death. She thought she was going to die in there. Soon enough, the doors opened, and men with guns ushered them out. At the time, she was grateful to be out of there and able to stretch her legs and smell the fresh air. But she was walking into hell where every order had to be followed. In the first week, Natasha was covered in bruises and got her first kill. At 8 years old, her hands were covered in blood.

For the next 5 years, the Red Room was the only life Natasha expected to live. Until she was paired up with Yelena to act as sisters along side Melina and Alexei. When the mission was completed, the couple refused to return. They rang and planned to stop them.

Natasha told your colleagues about sitting in the driver’s seat of a car she helped steal. She gave Melina the all-clear when she saw Dreykov in the window. The entire city block went up in smoke. The family had to hide in Budapest for two months until the heat died down.

“Where could they be?” Peggy asked. “Where would Dreykov hide them?” The family stayed quiet and glanced at each other.

“We do not know,” Alexei said. Fury scuffed and shook his head. He stood up from his chair and rounded to stand behind it.

“I find it very hard to believe,” he leaned back in his chair. “From your story, you were Dreykov’s head scientist,” he pointed to Melina and looked at Alexei. “And you were his right-hand man. Then you,” he locked eyes with Natasha. “You were his pride and joy. The best soldier to come out of the Red Room.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.

“We thought he was dead,” Natasha said. “We’ve been in the States for years. If I knew where my wife was, I’d tell you, Fury.” This was another reason Melina wanted to keep all of this a secret. Once people find out, they are treated as enemies.

“The only reason we knew it was the Red Room was because I saw the body cam footage,” Yelena explained. “We don’t work for him. We want them back home just as much as you do.” Natasha looked at Melina. Her mother was oddly quiet. She only spoke when spoken to.

“What is it, mama?” Natasha asked. Melina sighed and sat up straighter in her seat.

“If it is Dreykov,” she said. “Then I may know where he is hiding. It is a long shot, but clearly, you have zero leads.” Fury rolled his one good eye.

“You could have started with that,” he said. “Let’s go bring our girls home.”

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Breathe, you thought, breath. It was a mantra that you kept repeating in your head. Breathe. Slow down your heart rate. Keep calm. There was some pain in your shoulders, but you ignored it. That pain was going to be the last of your worries. “What do you think he’s going to do?” Maria asked. You opened your eyes to see your friend leaning against the bars.

“Nothing good,” you said, using your upper body strength to lift yourself up. It provided some relief to your shoulder. “It’s not gonna be pretty. You-” You licked your lips. “You don’t have to watch.” Maria scuffed and shook her head.

“We are in this together,” she said. “I’m not letting you face him alone, even if it was your dumbass that got yourself in this mess.” You smiled, chuckling softly.

There were words you wanted to say to Maria that seemed trapped in your throat. I’m sorry. Thank you. If I don’t make it, tell my family I love them. But you kept them away. Because if you said them, you would be admitting defeat. You were going to put up a fight against him. You chuckled instead. “Do you remember that prank we pulled on Fury?” At first, you saw confusion on Maria’s face, but then it hit her. She smiled.

“When we died, his eye patch pink or put rhinestones on the back of his trench coat that spelled Sexy Pirate?” You laughed, a real laugh that caused your sides to hurt. Oh, the look on Fury’s face was priceless. You were sure he was going to arrest you and throw you in the RAFT.

However, Fury was a good sport about it and got his revenge with extra workouts. He was a good man. Sighing, you looked at the ground. “I’m sorry,” you finally admitted. “That I got us into this mess.”

“Don’t do that,” you looked at her. “Don’t make it sound like we aren’t getting out of this together. That man has got nothing on you, you hear me?” You nodded. “Say it then.”

“I won’t let him break me,” you said out loud. “I won’t let him win.”

That man was not going to kill you. You were going to see your family again. The main door opened, and you heard the sound of multiple footsteps bouncing off the wall. You watched Maria tense up. “Come, children,” Dreykov’s voice said. “We have something planned today.” Behind the man were four girls, one of them was Mila and a girl close to her age. The other two were younger, maybe 7. You believed they were the strongest out of the group at the refugee camp. “Open the door.” He instructed. Mila opened it. “How are we doing?” His question was directed at you.

“Peachy,” you smiled. “You know I’m just hanging out.” You emphasized on the word ‘hanging.’ Maria groaned and hung her head.

“See, you have been a throne in my side, but you are hilarious,” Dreykov laughed. You weren’t sure if you should accept the compliment, so you shut your mouth. “She is the perfect example of how to act under intense pressure.” The man circled behind you. You hated that you no longer were in your eyesight. Tiring to keep your body relaxed, you locked eyes with Maria. She offered you a smile. “Does your military do a hell week?” You kept quiet. “I asked you a question,” his hand gripped the back of your neck. “Answer it. Tell them what it is.” The four girls stood at each corner of the cell, with Mila being the closest to the door.

“Yes,” you finally answered. He hummed for you to continue. “Each branch does it differently, but it usually consists of 5 1/2 days of cold, wet, brutal operational training on fewer than 4 hours of sleep.” Yours was for 2 weeks. You thought you wouldn’t make it through, but Maria helped you through it. She became one of your best friends after that.

“In this hell week, did they teach you torture techniques?” Dreykov walked to your right side. You nodded and were surprised he allowed you to answer non-verbally. “Have you tortured someone before, Viper?”

You had and you hated every second of it. When you returned home, you refused any touch from Natasha. You were a monster. “I have,” you answered. “But torture is a last ditch effort.”

“Explain.” You rolled the tension out of your shoulder.

“We try to get people to cooperate without physical violence. Most times people are willing to help us before it gets to that point,” you clenched your jaw. “Others are more stubborn.” The man laughed.

“So is this my last ditch effort.” To your surprise, you smiled.

“Probably, I’ve been told I can be difficult,” Maria let out a forced laugh. Dreykov smiled.

“Open her cell,” he gestured to Maria with a flick. The girl across from Mila went over to Maria and opened the door. Your friend remained in there, eyes narrowing at the man. “I would like to remind you, Commander, that I am still very much in charge. I will kill her. Understood?”

“Yeah. Crystal.” Maria took a few steps out of her cell.

“Excellent. Like I said, we have something fascinating planned,” Dreykov walked behind Maria. You kept your eyes on him the entire time. “We get to learn from the best,” he placed both hands on Maria’s shoulders. The woman tensed. “Torture her.” Maria recoiled forward so his hands fell back to his side. Her back was to you as she faced the man.

“You are out of your fucking mind. You are insane like actually insane.” Dreykov frowned.

“I am of sound mind,” he said. “I brought you here to teach my girls. This is the perfect way to learn. A hands-on experience.” Maria laughed - a full belly laugh that forced her to bend down.

“Oh, you are crazy. I’m not hurting her. So you are going to have to kill me and call it a day.” Maria crossed her arms. Dreykov looked at her then to you. His face was indifferent as if the thought of killing Maria was an afterthought - something as simply as crossing a name off his to do list.

Her death would haunt you more than a few scars and bruises. “Ria,” you whispered. “Do it.” Maria’s eyes snapped to you.

“You can’t be serious.” You smiled.

“Come on Hill,” your voice was soft. “I’m a lot tougher than I look.” Maria huffed - tears burning in her eyes. “Do it.”

Now you weren’t insane or crazy or had some pain kink. The plan was tactical. Maria was part of that same hell week and taught the same techniques. So, she could make the torture look real but cause less harm. While she entertained Dreykov, you had to come up with a plan.

Many believed torture in an interrogation was ineffective and counterproductive means of gathering information. Primarily, it generated false or misleading information. It was a delicate balance of pain to keep a person honest. You preferred psychological instead of physical. You used environmental manipulation, loud music or light control. As Clint said many weeks ago, you’ve done horrific things in the name of justice. The man you interrogated was part of a human trafficking ring that operated in the states. The information you got shut down the operation.

A hand grabbed the strands of your hair and pulled your head back. The pain brought you back to reality. You felt Maria’s breath on the back of your neck. “Clock is s ticking.” She mumbled. Maria understood your plan. She would stale as you came up with a way out of here.

But what the hell was the plan? How the hell were you going to escape while you were chained up and Dreykov was watching you like a hawk? The man seemed untouchable, indestructible. The Red Room went under the radar for years. Although it was a horrific endeavor, you were impressed with the level of sophistication.

Even the most powerful men had weaknesses. George Washington was a brilliant leader but struggled with tactical planning. While Genghis Khan was a brilliant military leader, his reign was marked by brutality and violence, which ultimately led to the decline of his empire. Niccolo Machiavelli believed power could only be gained through exploitation, and he was wrong. Those who relied on manipulation were often isolated and ineffective.

Isolated and ineffective. At Dreykov’s core, he was alone. So many people surrounded him because he manipulated them to fear him. “Enough,” Dreykov ordered. The sound of his voice made you flinch. You were so deep in your head that it startled. Now more present you felt the ache in your body. Damn, maybe Maria wasn’t holding her punches. “Girls,” it was on command that the four girls drew their pistols at you and Maria. Shit, you weren’t aware they were carrying weapons. “Step away from her.”

You heard Maria take a step back. Two of the girls followed her with their guns. Suddenly, Dreykov’s hand wrapped around your throat. “Why is she holding back, my flower?” You swallowed.

“So what now?” You asked instead of answering. “You’re gonna fold me into your pathetic little puppeteer act?” The grip he had on you lessened slightly.

“Pathetic?” You scuffed.

“Yeah, what would you call it?”

“I would call it-”

“When was the last time you had a conversation with somebody that wasn’t forced to talk to you?” You cut him off. The grip tightened—hook, line, and sinker. You tried to keep your heart steady even when you wanted to panic. His grip wasn’t suffocating, but you hated the feeling of his hands on you. “Besides,” you continued. “How put together are you? When 4 of your people escaped and left you.” It was a shot in the dark that the rest of your family was part of this circus. You were right by the vein that started to pulse in Dreykov’s forehead.

“They ran away,” he said through gritted teeth. “The real war is fought here in the shadows.” You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t fight in the shadows you hid in the dark. You are nothing. You have nothing.”

“There are 50 people in the world-” you scuffed.

“Oh, stop it.”

“Don’t tell me to stop it.” The pressure on your neck increased. You laughed. The sound echoed against the walls. It turned into a cackle as your airways began to be cut off. Somehow, you found the strength to swing closer to his face.

“If I don’t tell you when to stop, how will you know when to shut up!” You should have seen the punch coming. You giggled. The punch hurt but you’ve been punched harder by your daughters. “Come on. You don’t think I can take a punch.”

The strength behind his punches increased, it rocked you back. You leaned your head to side and spit blood onto the floor. “My god, you are weak,” you taunted. Suddenly, Dreykov grabbed the gun from Mila’s hand. The barrel of the gun was pressed against your chest. Oh. Well, that was unexpected.

“Who is weak now?” He asked. On paper probably him if he needed a weapon to showcase his strength. “You and Natalia and everyone else will never understand the power I had.” You hated the way he said her name.

“Then do it,” you whispered. His hand flinched slightly.

“What?”

“Pull the trigger,” you said. “Ubey menya (kill me).”

“Viper,” Maria warned. You hated putting her in this position, but it was a gamble you had to take. You used the rest of your strength and swung yourself over to him. You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer. The barrel shifted to point under your chin.

“Shot me!” You yelled. “Do it!” The sound of your voice echoed against the wall. Dreykov struggled against you, but you were stronger. Until he used the gun and hit you on the side of the head.

Black dots covered your vision and the man stumbled backwards. In your pain filled haze, you saw a key fall out of his pocket. Quickly, Mila covered it with her foot. Dreykov was blind to it - to busy trying to regain his composure. “You are as crazy as they say,” you chuckled.

“Yeah well its part my charm.” Gods above you felt like you were going to throw up. Concussions were no joke. Dreykov forced the gun back into Mila’s hand.

“Come, girls.” Dreykov ordered. “There is work to be done.” He filed out first and Mila was the last to leave and locked the door behind her. You gave her a small smile because the key was still on the ground.

“You are fucking insane,” Maria raced to be in front of you and cupped your face in her hands. You chuckled, removed your head from her hold to spit more blood on the floor.

“Key,” you mumbled. Maria looked confused. “Key,” you repeated and gestured to the corner. Maria followed your movement.

“You son of a bitch,” she quickly picked it up. “How did you know he had the key on him?”

“Didn’t,” Maria unlocked the metal cuffs around your wrist and you fell into her arms. “Wasn’t part of my intentional plane.” Carefully, she lowered you to the ground with your back against the wall.

“So what is the plan?” Your friend asked as she stood before you with her hands on her hips.

“Break down his ego and escape,” you shrugged. “But first I need a minute.” You closed your eyes, gave her a thumbs up, and was welcomed by darkness.

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“Hey,” you were woken up by Maria gently shaking you. You wanted to slap her hand away and go back to sleep. You were dreaming of Natasha and your girls. That dream was so much better than the hell you were living in. “Come on,” your eyes fluttered open. Before you could open your mouth to speak, you leaned to the side and threw up. Yup, it’s definitely a concussion. “Hot.” You rolled your eyes and spit more out. “Someone is coming.”

You gave her a thumbs-up and forced yourself to stand. If Dreykov was coming back to finish the job, you would stand to face him. But the footsteps were different from his. These were light and hurried. “Anna,” you whispered as you saw the little girl. Mila was next to her with keys in her hands.

“Hurry, hurry,” Anna said, pulling on Mila’s arm. You could tell the older girl was losing her patience, but she kept it to herself. Finally, the cell opened, and Anna ran inside. Maria was quick enough to step in front of her.

“Easy, easy, our friend isn’t feeling well.” You smiled but waved her over. Gently, Anna pushed her body against yours. You hugged her back and looked at Mila.

“What’s going on?” You asked the older girl.

“Scouts reported the military on the school’s property,” Mila explained. She stood at attention as if she was giving a report to her superior. “They called for a code 8,” you and Maria looked at each other. Mila huffed. “Mobilize all available personal. Shoot to kill.” Your stomach plummeted but the military was here which mean it could be your team or somebody else that could help.

“What are you doing here?” Maria questioned. Finally, Mila’s tough exterior crumbled. She looked like a girl her age.

“If anyone can stop them, it’s you two,” she whispered. They will be distracted from stopping the soldiers from getting it. This may be our only shot.”

She was right. A new sense of energy and strength rushed through you. They were distracted, plus Dreykov’s ego took a major hit when he failed to shoot you. “She’s right,” you said and turned to Maria. “I think I can stop him.”

“You can barely stand,” Maria deadpanned. You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off the wall. You were a little dizzy, but you’ve been through so much worse.

“I’m fine,” you looked at Mila. “Do you have a weapon?” She nodded and unclipped a pistol from her waist. “Give it to Maria.” Unfortunately, the girl followed the order perfectly. “If they called for a code 8 only the most trained girls are facing the military so the kids from the refugee camp are still in the school,” you looked at Maria. “Find them and get them out.” Your friend sighed.

“I hate this.” You chuckled.

“Go with Ria,” you told Anna. Thankfully, the girl pulled away from you and grabbed Maria’s hand. She whipped her tears.

“What about me?” Mila asked.

“You are going with Maria too,” the girl frowned.

“But I can help. I can fight.” You shook your head and took a few steps forward. Kneeling to her level, you put your hands on her shoulders.

“I am so proud of you,” Mila tensed up, not used to this type of physical comfort. “But now you are going to get out and be free. No more fighting.” You hugged her gently and she felt like you hugging Natasha for the first time. Tense. Awkward. Soon she relaxed into your body.

“No more fighting.”

“Exactly,” you ended the hug and cupped her face with your hands. “You’ve done so well,” you smiled. “Now leave the fighting to the adults.” Mila nodded.

“We should get going,” you stood up and watched Maria lead the two girls out of the basement. You leaned against the metal bars of the cell.

“Shit,” you mumbled. Maybe Maria was right but like hell you were going to tell her that. All you had to do was buy them some time. Sighing, you made your way out of the basement without chains or cuffs.

The first step of the plan was to get the armory without being detected. There was no one around - no guards, no girls being dragged to whatever lesson. Just eerie silence. The silence was the worst.

Each step forward was quiet and calculated. The last thing you wanted was to give away your position. You made it to the armory without any issues, and the door was left open. It rang a warning bell in your head. For as long as you were here, you never saw this room not guarded. Quickly, you went inside and grabbed an assault rifle with a few magazines, two smoke grenades, and a pistol. “Hey,” you spun around and shot the guard without a second thought. His body crumbled to the ground with a pool of blood around his head. You knelt beside his body and took his communication device. At least you’d be able to hear how the fight was going.

You put the pistol on your hip and aimed the assault rifle down the hall as you began to walk forward. Each guard you came across was killed without much of a second thought. Maybe later you would mourn their death but right now they were just as bad as Madame B and Dreykov.

Checking one of the classrooms you saw Madame B’s body - a single gun shot to the head was her cause of death. You wondered if it was Maria. The technique was flawless, but you continued to Dreykov’s office.

When you were in front of the door, you took a deep breath in and slowly let it out before opening the door. There he was - sitting in his chair with his back to you. It would be so easy to end it all, but you hesitated to pull the trigger.

Once upon a time when you were a kid, you played soccer and your father was the coach. He would say before you received the ball you should know where you are going to pass it. If you hesitated it was to late. He would tell you all the time that was your problem. In big game moments, you would panic and hesitate. The same could be said while serving. If the enemy was faster than you, it could result in your death.

The reason for your hesitation was the office looked different than the last time you were here. Dreykov was staring at screens that came down from the ceiling. The screen in the middle was the biggest, with pictures of girls flashing across the screen. On the right side, two screens showed the battle outside. On the left, those were turned off. “It’s over, Dreykov,” you finally spoke. “You’ve lost.”

“That would mean you agree I have won before,” he spun around in the chair. “How is my Natalia?” You squeezed the grip of the gun.

“She is safe and loved like all those girls you kidnapped will be too.”

“No, no, no, he stood up and shook his head. “She’s a traitor. All of them are. They turned their back on their people. On their blood,” he picked up a picture from his desk and shattered it against the wall. Your eyes flickered to the shelf of photos and saw the one with Natasha missing. “I gave her a home. I gave her love.”

“Like hell you did,” you took a few steps closer to the man. “She’s dead, by the way. Your little puppet master. A single gun shoot to the head that my friend probably did.” There was no trace of guilt sadness, or grief in the man’s expression. “I can guess your death will be more violent if you don’t get on the ground when they come through the door.”

“You know,” Dreykov laughed, ignoring your warning. “I thought with you here we could build something beautiful,” he began to fidget with the necklace around his neck. The man wasn’t one to fidget. “Maybe with you here, the others would come home.”

So you were bait as well. A final act for Dreykov to have his pride and joy back. “Instead of teaching our Widows how to fight, you gave them something else. Hope,” he wiggled his finger at you. “And that was not a nice thing to do.”

Something felt wrong. “Dreykov, stand down,” you ordered. “Get on your stomach with your fingers interlocked behind your head.” The smart thing to do would be to put a bullet right between his eyes, but he had answers to some of your questions. The Red Room would not be truly gone until his network of Widows were saved.

“We could have done so much good. If only you cooperated,” he ripped the chain off his neck.

“I won’t ask again.”

“Our Widows could have stopped and started wars. Controlled the scales of power,” it was the same speech Madame B gave to you to explain who they were. This time it felt different. Every time he said ‘our’ it sounded like he was talking about you and him. Our Widows. Our girls. Our children.

“Enough!” You ordered. The man stopped mid rant.

“Tell Natalia I said hello,” he raised his hand up and rushed it forward. There was no hesitation when you shot him - directly in the chest. Death would be instant but the red of his blood covered your eyes so you shot again. Then again. And again. Until your magazine was empty. His body fell backwards with a thud. You dropped the gun to the ground and walked over to his body. The adrenaline was leaving, and you began to feel the effects of your injuries. There was so much blood around his body.

You bent down to grab the necklace and saw the similar cut out on his desk. You frowned as you rubbed your fingers over the jewel. Dreykov wasn’t the type to try to kill himself. So what was this? As you tried to line up the placement, your vision went crossed and you began to see double. Falling to your knees, you caught yourself by your forearms on his desk. Finally, you lined it up and heard the click of the gem locking into place. The screens behind you turned on, and you turned around to watch. It was a map of the world. Every few seconds, you would see a dot appear. This was his web of Widows. “Fucker,” you mumbled.

But why show you? That question could be for another night. Now it was time to sleep.

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Once again, you were awoken by a repetitive sound. When you woke up from inside the cafe, it was Maria’s voice saying your name over and over again. This time it was beeping. The annoying and constant sound that you wished would stop. You wanted to go back to sleep now that you were in a bed and no on the concert floor of the Red Room.

There was another sound. If you strained your ears hard enough, you heard humming and felt soft fingers run up and down your arm. Natasha. The humming wasn’t to a specific song and it was an act you loved to catch her in. Mostly it happened when she was in the kitchen or sewing together a new pair of pointee shoes. Sometimes, you wouldn’t disturb her and watch her complete the task and the song. Other times, you would pull her into your arms and dance to the song she was singing. Her voice always calmed you; it was a blanket of safety.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and were thankful the lights were dimmed. The humming stopped. “No,” you groaned, turning your head to face your wife. “Keep singing,” Natasha blinked at you, her green eyes taking in your appearance. You were taking her in as well, capturing every detail. She was exhausted, bags underneath her eyes. Still she looked beautiful. “Hi baby,” you smiled.

Her hands shook but you were gently as she cupped your face and traced the new cuts and bruises. You could feel tears forming in your eyes. “You killed him,” Natasha finally spoke. The mention of the man that hurt your family sobered your feelings. “You killed him,” she repeated when you remained silent.

“I did,” you said. “They won’t be able to hurt you, Yelena, Melina, or any little girl ever again. He’s dead. You are finally safe.” A sob escaped past your wife’s lips. Without any hesitation, you ignored the pain that radiated from your body and hugged her. She slumped against you. You felt how tired she was.

In the back of your mind, you knew a conversation would need to be had. You wondered why she kept this part of her past hidden from you. All that could wait when you both needed to be in each other’s arms. “I’m hurting you,” she mumbled and tried to escape the hold you had on her. You shook your head.

“Don’t care,” you replied. “Missed you to fucking much.” Natasha chuckled but managed to remove herself. She ignored your pout and sat back in the chair. After all she was right, the adrenaline was wearing off and you could feel the injuries you endured. She smirked as you sat up more, wincing at each movement. “Shut up,” you teased and took her hand.

“One hell of a last one,” Natasha smiled. You chuckled with a shake of your head.

“Where are the girls?” You asked. You were itching to see them.

“With my parents and Yelena,” Natasha answered. “This has been a lot for them.” You could only imagine what the twins went through but also knew it was a lot for Natasha. From the moment, you and Natasha started dating she’s seen the affects on your deployment more than anyone. Each physical and emotional scare you bared, she carried too.

“A lot for you as well,” you guessed. Natasha lifted your hand and kissed your palm. You left your hand on her face.

“I am glad you are done,” she admitted. “I’m happy that you are letting someone else be the hero. You’ve earned your rest.”

Once Natasha notified your doctors that you were awake, they gave you a quick check-up. They explained every injury you withstood and the recovery process. It was routine at this point. Finally the doctors were done and you were growing impatient to see your girls. Natasha sent a text to Yelena to bring them up while you ate. “I miss Melina’s cooking,” you said. “Do you think she can sneak in some food?” You had nothing against hospital food, but it was bland. You were craving anything with flavor.

“You have learned of my unique set of skills,” Melina entered your hospital room. “And you want me to sneak you food in.” You smiled at your in-laws.

“Start small. Then we start planning to take over the world,” you teased. You ignored the groan from your wife. Melina chuckled and walked over to your free side. She leaned into hug you. It was much softer than the hug between you and Natasha.

“I am glad you he could not break you. You kept your heart,” she whispered and kissed your cheek. You nodded, to chocked up with emotion to find any words. You turned your attention to Alexei.

“Go easy on me papa medved’ (papa bear),” the Russian rolled his eyes and hugged you softer than Melina.

“My girls are strong,” he said. “I knew you would come home.” You let out a shaky breath and found yourself lost for words again.

“Alright,” you heard Yelena’s voice from outside the room. “What did we talk about?”

“Be careful because mom is healing,” you knew you were a goner when you heard Rose’s voice. Your throat burned as you kept the tears at bay. The twins walked in with Yelena behind them. The air was sucked out of your lungs.

“Mom!” Hailey cried. Whatever Yelena told them went out the window. The twins rushed to the hospital bed and climbed their way into your open arms. Their hands gripped onto the flimsy hospital gown so tightly that you knew they were going to rip it. You burrowed your face into their hair and finally let some of your tears fall.

“No more fighting bad guys?” Hailey questioned. You shook your head.

“No more fighting,” you kissed both of their heads. “I’m done.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The medal felt heavy around your neck and every time you tried to take it off someone would come behind you, slap you slightly on the back of your head to keep it on. Maria had one similar, while the rest of the team had various ones. The party was in full swing after the ceremony that honored you and the others for going above and beyond the call of duty. You were watching Bucky and Steve mess around with your daughters. It felt nice to have both of your family’s together. Sipping on your water, you felt Natasha’s arm sneak around your waist and pull you closer to her. “Whatcha thinking about baby?” She asked.

“Just about what’s next,” you smiled. “Ready to see the world as a civilian.” Natasha hummed in response and leaned against you more.

“I heard Paris is lovely this time of year,” you chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “So is the Maldives, Bahamas, and Italy,” you turned to face her and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“Yeah?” You chuckled. “Do you have a list of every destination you want to visit?” She nodded and bit her lip. “Well you know what they say happy wife, happy life.” You kissed her slowly. The party disappeared around you. All that mattered was the woman in your arms. Now, it was your job to make her and your daughters happy. There was no place you rather be.

[marvelseries19]

CASTAWAY

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female agent reader

A/N: So... It's been a while. In case you didn't read a recent post, I just finished nursing school, which is why I've been busy. I have some free time before I can find a job, so I decided to try to resume my writing.

I was watching the Tom Hanks movie Castaway, and this came to my mind. I hope you enjoy. It will probably be between four to five chapters, maybe. I have most of the first two already done, so I hope to be able to post regularly. I do wish to read your feedback about this. It will be mostly angst with some fluff somewhere.

About the rest of the series and stuff, I have no idea when and if I will finish them, I have like no good ideas for them, and like I said, I've been busy and going through the worst writer's block ever, so I haven't been able to get anything done. If you have any ideas or suggestions even requests, I'm open to reading them. Also, please go to my last post, there's more info and stuff. Enjoy :)

Summary: A mission gone wrong. A missile strike. A Quinjet lost at sea. Stranded on an uncharted island, wounded and alone, you cling to survival with nothing but your training and the engagement ring around your neck.

Back at HQ, your fiancée is told to accept the worst. But she refuses. Because if her soon-to-be wife is still out there, she’ll tear the world apart to bring her home.

Warnings: +18. Descriptions of injuries. PTSD, and probably more.

MASTERLIST

Chapter one... [coming soon]

[thesvnandthemooon]

How would you say Nat handling reader's crazy out of this world cravings? Like in 12 midnight reader will wake Natasha up, crying or all mad wanting some yogurt but it has to come from this one specific store or something😂 when Natasha comes back you would only eat a spoonful and then you will make her eat it or else you'll cry and won't talk to her until the next dawn😂

ooh yes, pregnancy cravings!! they were fun for you and torturous for nat 😋

you craved the most vile stuff. seriously. hot cheetos dipped in vanilla pudding, peanut butter on cold pizza, canned sardines and onions. and if you got a craving during a basketball game? tough luck for the audience. no matter how gross your latest concoction was — if you craved it, you ate it.

natasha almost threw up a few times, too. you made her try something once and she almost spewed it right into a potted plant. when you reminded her about the raw eggs in her protein shakes, though, she quickly shut up.

also, you definitely woke her up at 3am a few times. nat’s a deep sleeper, especially since practice and school tire her out. you shook her shoulder anyway, until she finally jerked awake (and nearly fell out of bed).

did she complain? yes. did she get dressed immediately? also yes. and if she had to drive to ten different grocery/convenience stores to find those mango-mochis you asked for, then she’d do that. though by the time she arrived, you were asleep; which led to her researching your newest craving whenever you told her about it, just so she’d know where to find it.

after a while, she started carrying your cravings around, too (if possible). sour gummy worms? in her backpack. pistachio cookies that cost half a fortune? neatly stored in a tupperware box in her car. cherry juice packs? in her locker.

she made sure she wouldn’t run out (because she genuinely cared, but also because you were a mess wherever your cravings couldn’t get satisfied immediately). imagine the horror when you were stuck in traffic on the highway once, and you reached for the cookie box only to find out it’s empty. natasha turned red when she realized — a few hours prior, she’d gotten into her car, hungry and tired from practice. she’d seen the box with the two cookies and decided to have a bite, since your craving seemed to have moved onto lemon poppyseed muffins.

you stared at the box, then glanced at her. that was all it took for you to realize what’d happened. you didn’t start yelling or screaming, no. you started sobbing. like, the-end-of-the-world-is-near sobbing. full on tears and sniffles, with your hands covering your face. natasha had rarely felt this guilty. she ended up going to the bakery that sells the cookies instead of driving to her favorite sports store.

also, since we’re on the topic of crying over random foods: you definitely cried in a grocery store a couple times. like when they were out of your favorite flavor of yogurt, so you broke down in the dairy aisle and cried until natasha picked you off the ground and bought literally every flavor of yogurt they had.

you opened every single one of them once you got back to your dorm. mainly because none of them seemed to hit the spot. strawberry? yum, but no. vanilla? ew. cookies and cream? atrocious. in the end, natasha was doomed to finish 14 different flavors of yogurt on her own. of course, you woke up at 4 in the morning just to ask if she left any of the key lime pie yogurt. cue another sob-fest.

she definitely tried to keep the unhealthy cravings restricted, but it was no use. you fought tooth and nail to get that pizza with peanut butter.

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter Six

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns that she and R aren't friends

W/c: 3.9k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of. MENTIONS OF STERILIZATION

Dreykov was, by all means, a busy man. With a facility of over two hundred girls to keep track of, he needed precision in every aspect of his "business." The girls rarely saw him unless he found one interesting. And as you knew, you were his topic of interest, along with Natasha.

On days like today, he'd pull you into his office and have you sit with and observe him. It was all part of his game, and it was working. You were scared shitless, and you tried not to show it. You sat up straight, shoulders squared and hands folded on your lap. The air in his office was tense, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

You weren't a scared little girl. Not anymore. There were papers stacked in neat piles on his desk, reports on training progress, mission briefings, and names with numbers beside them—statistics, not people. You didn’t have to look closely to know what they meant.

You were looking at him, watching his hands shuffle through the files, and he was aware of it. His gaze was trained on the paper in his hands, and you didn't miss the ghost of a smirk on his face. You were staring again. You knew better.

You tore your eyes away, pointing to the glass case on the wall beside his head. This was also a part of his game. Making you wait there. Making you sit with him and keep your attention on him. It was all part of making you afraid, and you knew that. So instead, you focused on the objects in the glass case, the shiny things inside. A gold ring, a necklace with a ruby pendant, and a gun.

You heard the shuffling of papers, then silence.

"You understand, don’t you?" he mused, flipping a page without looking at you. You hadn't realized he'd even spoken. You directed your gaze to his. His eyes were still trained on the paper, and a chill ran up your spine. He finally looked at you, and there was something dark in his expression.

"I do, sir," you told him, your voice soft. "I understand."

"Do you?" He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk.

You nodded, swallowing thickly.

"My Widows are some of the best in the world," He mused to himself mostly. He truly didn't care if you responded, you think. You nodded. It was always better to agree."This is how control is maintained. Not through brute force alone, but through order." He gestured vaguely to the reports. "Through strategy."

He stood, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor cutting through the silence. He walked around the desk and came to stand behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. His breath was warm on your neck, and you shuddered.

"Your training has been going well," His voice was soft and low, and he pressed his lips to your ear. "You're useful to me." He said.

You knew he only said these things to make you feel good, but it worked. The praise washed over you, and you suppressed a smile. You had to fight the urge to lean into him and instead sat still as stone.

"Thank you, sir," you replied, your voice quiet.

He hummed, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. He was so close.

"I think I need two things from you," He whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

"And what are those, sir?"

"I will be sending Natasha Romanoff on her first mission," He continued, and you tensed. "I would like for you to watch her. You're a valuable asset to me. If she fails, it could jeopardize my operation."

"Yes, sir." You wondered why he didn't just send one of the older widows.

"You'll leave tomorrow," he said. "I have a few other matters to attend to." He looked down at you with a heavy gaze. "And I want to speak with you privately."

"Yes, sir," you replied, meeting his stare. His hand was still on your shoulder, his thumb tracing circles into your skin. You felt goosebumps rising where he touched. He was so close. You wanted to move away from him. You wanted to shrink away from his touch.

But you didn't.

You were trained not to.

So you sat there, waiting for him to move, but he didn't. He just watched you, his eyes raking over your form.

You shifted under his gaze. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

He blinked as if pulled from a thought. His grip tightened, fingers pressing down until the weight of his hand became unbearable—until it felt like he was pinning you to the chair.

There was a knock at the door, and the tension snapped in half. Whatever pain you were about to endure by his hands could wait.

Dreykov pulled back, his expression unreadable. "Enter."

"Antonia and Georgina are here, sir," A soldier announced.

He exhaled sharply as he had already forgotten this interruption was coming. He gestured the soldier away. "Send her in."

The woman who entered wasn’t much older than you. Maybe seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Former Widow. You recognized her. Not her name, but her face.

In her arms, she carried a little girl.

Brown hair. Brown eyes. Wet cheeks.

Antonia.

Dreykov’s daughter.

The child clung to the woman’s neck, her tiny hands fisting into the fabric of her shirt. The woman didn’t look at Dreykov or even acknowledge his presence. But the moment her wide eyes landed on you, her expression darkened.

She knew you.

And she didn’t like you.

The woman set the child down on the floor and stepped away. Dreykov didn't take his eyes off you, but he spoke to the girl, his tone stern. "Come here, Antonia."

The child obeyed, shuffling her little feet over to the desk. She stood before it, staring up at her father. Dreykov turned to the child, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards.

"How was your lesson?" he asked her.

Antonia didn't answer. She was staring at her shoes, her face a mess of tears. "I didn't like the teacher." She mumbled.

Dreykov chuckled. "You mustn't cry, my dear," he said, reaching out and placing his hand on the girl's head. She flinched at his touch but didn't pull away."It's a weakness." He finished.

His hand fell from the child's head, and his eyes flickered to you. "You can go," he said, nodding toward the door.

You stood quickly, practically tumbling over your feet in a rush to leave the room. It felt weird seeing Dreykov be almost fatherly to the little girl. You moved quickly, your legs carrying you out of his office before you could even process the tightness in your chest. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing him in with her.

Antonia couldn’t be older than five. Still small enough to be carried in someone’s arms. Still young enough to cry without shame. But even now, she was learning that weakness wasn’t allowed. Learning that flinching at his touch meant nothing if she didn’t pull away.

She was the spitting image of her father. The same sharp features. The same cold eyes. But there was something of Georgina in her, too, softer and fragile.

Not that it mattered.

Not in this place.

You clenched your fists, trying to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. Why was it bothering you? You’d seen Dreykov take an interest in girls before—handpicking, molding, turning them into weapons or something worse. You knew what happened to the women he kept.

Would Antonia be any different?

Would you?

The thought made your stomach churn.

There was no leaving. No, after this life. You had always known that. You had never wanted to be one of them. The women who stayed by his side. The ones who weren’t discarded but kept. The ones who belonged to him in a way that no mission, assignment, or Widow ever could.

Georgina had once been like you. A favorite. Chosen. And now, she was nothing more than an extension of his will, an obedient shell.

You swallowed hard.

Would that be you one day?

Would there come a time when you stopped fighting? When you let him own you completely?

*******

Natasha didn’t particularly have a least favorite lesson until she was introduced to the different aspects of beauty.

She had been inducted into makeup.

It was a class for the older girls—a technique designed to make them appear more mature, polished, and useful. A skill not just for blending in but for becoming exactly what was needed.

She sat stiffly in front of the mirror, her expression carefully blank. The instructor, an older woman with hard lines carved into her face, stood beside her. Her voice was sharp and clinical, rattling off step-by-step instructions like they were assembling a weapon.

“Foundation first.” A compact was placed in front of her. “You need a flawless base.”

Natasha dipped the sponge into the powder, pressing it against her skin. It felt foreign, suffocating. The fine dust clung to her, sinking into the grooves of her face. She tried not to grimace.

“Now, the eyes.” A pencil, cool and sharp, was handed to her. “Liner should be subtle. Just enough to make them striking.”

She dragged it along her waterline, the unfamiliar pressure making her blink rapidly. Her fingers twitched to wipe it away. She wasn't sure she was doing this correctly. Her hands were unsteady and uncoordinated.

"Good. Now mascara. Don’t blink too much."

Natasha obeyed. She always obeyed.

Lipstick came last. A deep shade of red—bold, adult. She hesitated for half a second before pressing it to her lips, dragging it across.

"Perfect." The instructor stepped back to assess her. Natasha met her gaze in the mirror, and something cold settled in her stomach.

She looked different. Older. Sharper. Someone else entirely.

"How does it feel?"

The words sat on the tip of her tongue. Wrong. Too much. Like I can't breathe.

Instead, she answered, "Fine."

The instructor nodded approvingly. "You'll get used to it."

"Madam," Natasha pondered. "Can I be excused?"

"For what reason?"

"I don't feel well."

The instructor's expression softened a fraction. She was not heartless. "Of course. Go. We'll continue this lesson another time."

Natasha slid out of the chair, careful not to smudge the lipstick, and fled. She didn’t know where she was going but needed an out. She was headed for the infirmary, hoping she could feign a headache to receive a little time away, when she noticed you walking into the room. She moved herself against the wall, making herself as small as possible to avoid seeing you. She was still upset about the other day. You'd told her to bomb the match so she wouldn't be sent on a mission. In theory, it sounded great. Missions weren't her favorite thing to do here. But then she'd gotten punished for not putting in her all. The instructors weren't happy, so they gave her extra work and made her clean the training rooms. She didn't have a problem with doing it. It was the fact that she hadn't known she'd be moving up a rank.

Moving up a rank in the Red Room meant something rare—trust.

Not freedom, not really, but a loosening of the reins. It meant she had proven herself competent and reliable. It meant fewer eyes watching her every move and fewer punishments for the smallest missteps. It meant they expected her to succeed now.

And she hadn’t even known.

Her stomach twisted. She pressed tighter against the wall, watching you disappear inside the infirmary.

You hadn’t warned her. Not about that.

You had told her to throw the match—to lose on purpose. And like a fool, she had listened. She thought she was playing it smart and avoiding something worse. Instead, she had humiliated herself. She had been reprimanded, punished, and set back. And yet, somehow, they were still sending her on a mission.

Natasha moved like a shadow, silent and unsure, as she pushed open the doors to the infirmary. There were no guards here at this time, and it seemed you knew, too. She pressed close to the wall, edging toward the cracked door like she had months ago. It wasn't like her to spy, but still, she needed to know more about you. She needed to know what she was dealing with.

******

You didn't know why your first stop was Nora's office. She was much too busy for your dramatics. But you needed the slightest bit of comfort she offered. The slightest bit of touch she would give when you would allow her. Nora was your favorite person in the Red Room. She wasn't stiff and cold like the other widows of her age. Nora was the closest thing you had to safe.

She wasn’t warm, not exactly—no one in the Red Room was—but she wasn’t cruel. She was blunt, whereas others were deceptive and awkward, and others were polished. She had been cycled through this place more times than you could count, yet somehow, she still had pieces of herself left.

That was why you came to her.

She didn’t coddle, didn’t pretend. She didn’t try to pry you open like a puzzle to be solved. She let you exist, let you take what you needed—whether it was silence, a brush of fingers over your wrist, or a conversation where neither of you said exactly what you meant.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you have any aspirin?"

Nora sighed. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"Yes," you told her, but it wasn't entirely true. Your head hurt, but it wasn't a physical ailment. It was the pressure, the constant fear, the unease. Of course, you couldn't tell her that. You hopped up on the exam table, watching as she typed away on her computer, and tried to steady your breathing.

She stood, rifling through the cabinet. "You're not supposed to have those," she told you, glancing at the screen. "But I think we can make an exception."

"Thank you." You reached for the pill bottle, but she shook her head.

"I'll get it," she said, handing you a small cup of water. She handed you the cup, all the while studying you closely until you drank the entire thing. "You're worried about something."

"I'm not," You said through clenched teeth.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"I'm not," You insisted. "I'm...tired."

She watched you closely. "It's not like you to ask for pain medication."

"I had a long day," You replied, looking down at your hands.

She nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on your face. "You've been tired a lot lately."

You shifted, avoiding her gaze. "Well, you try being fourteen and learning to be a Widow."

"I've done it three times," She muttered playfully. Nora hummed, letting the conversation settle for a moment before switching gears. "Andrey was asking about you again."

You barely held back a grimace. Of course, he was.

"He’s persistent," she added, her voice laced with something unreadable. Amusement? Annoyance? It was hard to tell with her sometimes.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "He’s disgusting."

Nora’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t look surprised. "He’s useful."

You scoffed. "To who?"

"To you," she said simply. "Boys like him are predictable. You should use that."

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling against your palms. "I’d rather not. All boys his age want is one thing, and I'm not interested in giving it to him."

"That's not always true," Nora argued, her tone flat. "They're easy enough to control."

"Easy for you, maybe," you grumbled.

"And easy for you."

You sighed, shifting. "I don't want to do that if I don't have to." You mumbled, knowing that she would understand. "If I get too close, He'll take what he wants anyway."

Nora was quiet for a moment, her sharp eyes scanning your face. Then, she sighed. "That’s the way of things, isn’t it?"

You didn’t answer.

She leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose. "I won’t tell you what to do. But I will tell you this—you should never let them see what you hate."

You swallowed, pressing your nails into your palms. "I know."

"And if he ever steps out of line—"

"I’ll handle it," you cut in.

Nora gave you a long look, then nodded. "Good."

After a beat, you asked, "Why does he like me so much?"

She could tell you weren't talking about Andrey anymore.

"Because you're special," Nora said, her tone softer than before.

You looked down at your hands before looking at her with shining eyes. "I don't want to be special." You shook your head. "I want the procedure." You said suddenly.

Nora’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes flickered—understanding, maybe, or something close to sorrow.

"You don’t mean that," she said, but there was no challenge in her voice. Just quiet certainty.

"I do," you insisted. Your throat felt tight. "I don’t want to be looked at like that. I don’t want to be wanted like that."

Nora exhaled slowly, studying you. "It won’t change everything," she said finally. "Not the way you think it will."

You swallowed hard. "But it would change something. I wouldn't end up like Georgina."

"It's too early," Nora denied you. "You've not graduated yet. You have two more years."

"And after that?" You pressed, trying to hide the desperation in your voice.

Nora frowned, her brow furrowing. "Why is this coming up now? What's happened?"

You didn't answer her.

"Y/N," She pressed.

"He's sending me on a mission," You muttered, looking down at the ground. "With a new girl. Natasha."

Nora's frown deepened. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

You didn't speak for a moment. Then, you nodded, exhaling slowly. "It's okay," you told her. "I just...want something to change."

Nora didn't say anything for a moment. Her eyes were fixed on you, her expression unreadable.

"Have you ever wanted to be a mother?" you asked.

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden change of topic.

"I can't say I have," She answered truthfully.

You sighed. "Neither have I."

Nora didn't reply, just stared at you.

"Do you think my mother is still looking for me?" You asked. "If she could find me. If she were alive?"

"You've had a long day," Nora said instead of answering.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

"Go to your quarters," She instructed. "Try to rest."

"Yes, ma'am," you said, standing from the table. You glanced at the bottle of pills in her hand.

"One more," Nora said, placing it in your palm. "It will help you sleep."

"Thank you," you murmured.

She didn't reply; she just returned to the computer.

You made your way out of the room and back towards the hallway. You stopped short when you heard a shuffling behind you. You turned your head, glancing back towards the doorway.

Natasha was standing there.

Her eyes were wide, her face flushed.

"I knew you were there," You sighed, disappointed. "You really should work on being more subtle."

"What happened back there?" Natasha asked. "What procedure are you talking about?"

You studied her. She was curious. Always too curious.

You shook your head and walked away instead. When you first began talking to Natasha, you thought you could be close. You thought she was someone you could befriend. It was a stupid thought. A childish one.

No one here was your friend.

Not even Nora.

You weren't going to make the mistake of getting close to her again.

She was only a mission.

***

Natasha sat in the darkness of her room, the sound of your footsteps still echoing in her mind.

The procedure.

What was it?

And why did the thought of it terrify her?

It wasn't her business. It was none of her concern. And yet, it gnawed at her. Like an itch, she couldn't scratch like a splinter stuck beneath her skin.

You were a mystery to her. One she had thought she was slowly solving. But now, it felt like she knew even less than before. She exhaled sharply, shifting to sit cross-legged on her bed. Her body ached from the day's training, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere—on you, the secrets you carried, and what Dreykov wasn’t telling her.

And the mission.

Her first real mission since Ohio.

In just twelve hours, she’d be leaving the Red Room for the first time, sent into the world like a knife drawn from its sheath. Dreykov hadn’t given her many details—only that it was necessary. If you were going, that meant it mattered. You were almost two years older than her, more experienced, more trusted. You had done this before.

Natasha had not.

She could only hope she did well. 

******

A few hours later, Natasha hadn’t anticipated what would happen before the mission. Her briefing had been minimal. Cryptic at best.

She stood at the foot of her bed, head bowed, eyes lowered, waiting. The footsteps of a soldier approached, steady and unhurried. A blindfold was secured over her eyes—tight, rough fabric pressing into her skin. She didn’t flinch. She would have to get used to this.

Hands gripped her arm, guiding her forward. She followed without resistance. She was pushed into the back of a van, her body colliding with another.

Your voice came, low and steady, near her ear.

"Don’t panic. It’s just to keep us from knowing the way out."

She swallowed, forcing her breath to stay even.

She wouldn’t panic.

But she hated this already.

The van jolted forward, the engine rumble masking the sound of breathing around her. Natasha kept still, her body tense, fingers curled into fists in her lap. The tight blindfold pressed into her skin, forcing her to rely on her other senses.

She could feel your shoulder against hers, solid and unmoving.

She exhaled quietly, focusing on the weight of it, grounding herself.

She hadn't anticipated this.

Minimal briefing, little preparation—she had expected that. But the blindfold, the silent transport, the feeling of being nothing more than cargo—was new.

"How long?" she murmured.

A pause. Then, your voice was softer than before. "A while."

She nodded, shifting slightly. The van was crowded—she could hear the steady breathing of at least two others. Maybe more. It smelled of steel and oil, the faint trace of sweat clinging to the air.

She focused on the movement, counting each turn and each stop, trying to map the route in her mind. It didn’t take long to realize how impossible that was. The roads twisted, and the speed changed at random as if you were deliberately being disoriented.

You sighed beside her as if you knew exactly what she was doing. "Don’t bother."

Natasha turned her head slightly. "You don’t want to know where we are?"

"I already know what matters," you muttered. "In a few seconds, you will feel a pinch. Don't fight it."

"What?"

"Now," you whispered.

A hand seized her shoulder, and she felt the sharp bite of a needle sinking into her neck. She froze, fighting the instinct to pull away. The pressure released, and the grip on her shoulder loosened.

"What was that?" she hissed.

"Just a precaution," you murmured, your words slightly slurred. She couldn't ask the next question on the tip of her tongue before she felt the world around her become unsteady. She leaned against your shoulder, unable to hold herself up any longer.

"It will be alright," You assured her.

Natasha nodded, though her movements felt heavy and slow. The last thing she heard before her world went black was the sound of your voice saying

"Rest."

----->

[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.

[purifiedclitoris69]

Statements

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Shield agent!reader

Summary: Assumptions are made about the relationship you have with Natasha, so you took it upon yourself to make a statement :)

Your relationship with Natasha is built on years of trust, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding that comes from living in the shadows of espionage. You met when she first joined SHIELD, and while she was still finding her footing within the organization, you were already established as a specialist sniper—someone who worked alone, took the impossible shots, and disappeared before anyone even knew you were there.

At first, your relationship was purely professional. You recognized each other as dangerous and highly capable, but there was always a quiet pull between you. Over time, through shared missions, late-night debriefs, and the rare moments of quiet in a world full of chaos, that pull became something more. It wasn’t dramatic or rushed—it was a slow burn, a natural evolution of two people who understood each other better than most and yearned to show one another a genuine love.

Now, after almost 3 years together, your bond is unshakable. While the Avengers see you around the compound, they don’t truly know the depth of what you and Natasha have. They assume your relationship is casual, just a convenience in a life full of uncertainty. But in reality, Natasha loves you fiercely, and you love her just as much. You’re her safe place, the person she trusts with the parts of herself she doesn’t show anyone else. When the world feels too heavy, she turns to you—not for protection, because she doesn’t need it, but for the rare comfort of knowing she’s not alone.

You don’t need grand gestures or constant declarations. Your love is in the quiet moments—the way she always finds her way to you after a mission, the way you instinctively reach for her hand under the table, the way she relaxes against you when no one is watching. To the outside world, you might just be another agent who occasionally lingers at the compound. But to Natasha, you’re home.

—————————-———

Wanda was the first to recognize the depth of your relationship.

It was early—early enough that most of the team was still asleep or barely functioning. The compound was quiet, save for the soft hum of the coffee machine in the kitchen. You stood by the counter, leaning against it, eyes still heavy with sleep as you waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

Natasha, still in her sleep shorts and one of your old SHIELD t-shirts, wandered in with a yawn, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She didn’t say anything as she approached—you felt her presence before you saw her. Without hesitation, she walked straight into your space, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face into your chest.

"Mm. Too early," she mumbled against you.

You huffed a quiet laugh, your hand instinctively coming up to rub slow, soothing circles on her back. "You say that every morning, but you’re always up before me."

She hummed but didn’t respond, just tightening her grip around you as if she could steal some of your warmth. You didn’t mind. In fact, moments like this were your favorite—the ones where she let her guard down, where she wasn’t the Black Widow or an Avenger, just Natasha, just yours.

Neither of you noticed Wanda standing by the doorway, frozen mid-step. She had come in for coffee but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Natasha—fierce, guarded Natasha—melted completely against you.

Wanda had always assumed your relationship was casual. Everyone had. You weren’t around often, and Natasha never entertained deep conversations about her personal life. But standing there, watching the way she clung to you, the way your hand moved over her back with the kind of practiced ease that spoke of years of familiarity, Wanda realized they had all been wrong.

This wasn’t casual. This was love—deep, unwavering, and so achingly real.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but eventually, Natasha stirred, tilting her head up to look at you. "Coffee ready?"

"Almost," you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so natural, that Wanda almost felt like she was intruding.

Before Natasha could move away, you leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Go sit. I’ll bring you a cup."

Natasha didn’t argue, just gave you a sleepy, content smile before releasing you and making her way to the kitchen table.

Wanda finally decided to make her presence known, clearing her throat as she stepped fully into the kitchen. "Morning," she greeted, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she grabbed a mug and you unpromptedly filled it for her greeting her with a kind smile and filling Nat’s next, starting another pot for anyone else who might want it.

Natasha, already seated, just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Wanda glanced between the two of you, then just shook her head, her smirk widening. "Nothing. Just... you two are cute," she blew on her coffee.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. Meanwhile, you simply handed Natasha her coffee before grabbing your own along with d the morning crossword, completely unfazed.

Wanda took a sip of her drink, still smiling to herself. Maybe the rest of the team had been blind to it, but now she knew the truth—Natasha Romanoff was hopelessly, completely in love.

—————————-———

The next person was Steve. You had gone on another lengthy mission; it had kept you away for weeks longer than either of you liked. You had kept in touch when you could, brief calls and cryptic messages, but it wasn’t the same. And now, finally, you were back.

Steve wasn’t looking for either of you when he entered the common room. He had just been passing through, planning to grab something from the kitchen before heading to the gym. But as soon as he stepped in, he stopped in his tracks.

The lights were dim, the soft crackle of the old record player filling the space. An oldie—something slow, something familiar. And in the center of the room, barely swaying to the rhythm, was you and Natasha.

She was pressed against you, arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers idly playing with the hairs at the back of your neck. Your hands rested on her waist, holding her close as if you needed to feel her warmth to believe this moment had finally come after weeks of waiting.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need. The way Natasha clung to you, the way you held her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, it said everything.

Steve had never seen her like this. Sure, he had seen her care about people, had seen her protect and fight for those she loved. But this? This was different. This was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, completely at peace. Safe. Home.

He felt like he was intruding on something sacred, so he took a quiet step back, turning to leave—only to nearly bump into Bucky.

“what’s with the face?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at the look on Steve’s face.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “Nothing, just—” He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Bucky. “You and Sam better stop checking Nat out so much.”

Bucky scoffed. “What? We don’t—”

Steve gave him a knowing look.

Bucky shifted. “Alright, maybe Sam does. I just—y’know, appreciate a good—”

Steve cut him off. “Don’t.”

Bucky smirked. “Okay, but why the sudden warning?”

Steve shook his head again, that small smile still lingering. “Because they’re in love. Like, really in love.”

Bucky frowned. “I mean, yeah, I figured they were serious, but—”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “Not just serious. Not just together. In love.”

Bucky studied him for a second, something unreadable passing over his expression before he nodded. “Alright,” he said simply.

Steve gave him a final glance before clapping him on the shoulder and walking off, leaving Bucky standing there, a little quieter than usual.

Because if what Steve was saying was true, then it wasn’t just Natasha they had underestimated. It was you.

—————————-———

The true statement was made in the compound gym.

The gym was alive with movement—punching bags swinging, the clatter of weights, and the rhythmic sound of fists meeting training dummies. You had just finished some shooting drills when you decided to swing by, knowing exactly where Natasha would be.

Sure enough, there she was, moving like a force of nature. Every strike was precise, every kick sharp. She was a sight to behold—dangerous, powerful, and effortlessly graceful.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.

You noticed Sam and Bucky standing off to the side, arms crossed, observing her with a little too much focus. Eyes tracked her every movement, and while you weren’t necessarily the jealous type, and were well aware how gorgeous Natasha is; people couldn't help but be enamoured by her, however weren’t about to let this slide.

You strolled up beside them, tilting your head. "Enjoying the view?"

Bucky, to his credit, immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. I was admiring the technique, alright?" He nodded toward Natasha. "She’s one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen."

You eyed him for a second before nodding, accepting the explanation. Bucky was a lot of things, but he wasn’t dumb enough to cross that line.

Sam, however—

"Look, I’m just saying," Sam started, his eyes still trailing Natasha as she wiped sweat off her forehead. "It’s not my fault she moves like that. That’s a distraction."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sam glanced at you, then seemed to realize way too late that he had just said that to the one person who could make him regret it. "Uh—"

"You know what?" You rolled your shoulders, tossing your towel aside. "I feel like I haven’t sparred in a while. What do you say, Wilson? A little one-on-one?"

Sam hesitated, looking between you and Bucky, who just took a step back, clearly enjoying the fact that he wasn’t involved.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "I mean, no offense, but I’ve got wings, I’ve fought aliens—"

"You’re standing here watching my girlfriend train. I just want to see how you train too." you cut in, smirking.

The room went silent for half a beat before Bucky let out a low chuckle. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Clint grinned, nudging Wanda. "Five bucks says Sam regrets this immediately."

Natasha, who had been too focused on training to notice the exchange earlier, finally turned toward the group, eyebrow raised. "What’s going on?"

Wanda smirked. "Your sniper just challenged Sam to a sparring match because he got caught staring at you."

Natasha let out a small laugh, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she walked closer. "Oh, I have to see this."

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. "Y’all are ridiculous. But fine. Let’s do this."

You stepped onto the mat, rolling your shoulders as Sam joined you. He gave a cocky smirk. "You sure you wanna do this? I am pretty fast, you know."

You just smirked back. "We’ll see."

Steve, ever the responsible one, clapped his hands. "Alright, keep it clean."

The second Steve gave the go-ahead, you moved—fast.

Sam barely had time to react before you were already in his space, effortlessly dodging his first strike. You didn’t just block—you controlled. Every punch he threw was sidestepped. Every kick, redirected. You weren’t just fighting Sam. You were toying with him.

The smirk on his face started fading as frustration crept in. "Damn," he muttered, throwing another punch. You caught his wrist, twisting him off-balance before sweeping his legs out from under him.

Sam hit the mat with a grunt.

From the sidelines, Bucky let out a whistle. "That looked like it hurt."

Clint was grinning beside Nat.

Wanda shook her head in amusement. "He walked right into that one."

Sam groaned but pushed himself back up. "Alright, alright—lucky shot."

You didn’t respond. You just motioned for him to try again.

This time, he put more effort into his attacks, but it didn’t make a difference. Every move he made, you were already three steps ahead. You parried, countered, redirected—all with ease.

After a few more humiliating takedowns, Sam finally dropped to the mat, breathing hard, lying flat on his back. "Damn. Alright. Message received."

You crouched down beside him, grinning. "Good. Maybe next time, you’ll keep your eyes to yourself playboy"

Sam exhaled, closing his eyes. "Noted."

You stood up, offering him a hand. He took it, groaning as he got to his feet. "You really don’t like people looking at her, huh?"

You shrugged, "I know she can handle herself, I just felt like making a statement today," you smiled stepping off the mat and walking to Nat

"Possessive looks good on you," Natasha said with her signature smirk

Without a second thought, you grabbed her by the waist and kissed her—really kissed her—right in front of everyone. It was slow, deep, and left no room for doubt. Natasha, normally composed, melted into you, gripping your bicep to steady herself.

When you pulled back, she was a little breathless, a rare blush dusting her cheeks.

You smirked. "See you at dinner, love."

And with that, you walked off, leaving Natasha still catching her breath.

Clint let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Wanda smirked. "That was a statement,” Natasha throwing a towel at her, mumbling out a whatever and heading to the lockers

Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder. "So, you still gonna stare?"

Sam rolled his eyes taking a tired seat on the bench "I hate you all."

[romanoffshouse]

Y/N: Bye Natasha!

Y/N: Bye Tony!

Y/N: Bye Steve!

Y/N: Bye Bucky!

Y/N: Bye Natasha!

Tony: You said 'Bye Natasha' twice.

Y/N: I like Natasha.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

��𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝐝𝐚𝐲: 𝟎.𝟏𝟒 - 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Bodyguard!Natasha x fem!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, top!Nat, bottom!reader, bratty!reader, slight brattamer!Nat, age gap, car sex, spanking, manhandling?, hair pulling, strap on,

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Natasha is your new bodyguard, who’s not willing to put up with any of your bullshit

𝐀/𝐍: we hit 2000 followers so I got something special planned after kinktober

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧e

Natasha kept her Rey Bens on while she waited outside the college you were attending, you were practically fresh meat in her eyes with your 19 years of age. She would love to leave all this behind and settle down alone somewhere in the wilderness. But Natasha needed your dear daddy's money first, so she was stuck as a glorified babysitter. 

She heard the passenger door slam shut when you entered on your goddamn phone like always. "I thought the driver was gonna pick me up" She scoffed, and asked himself if school uniforms always looked so... slutty "Gotta take up with me" She murmured watching you from the corner of her eye, she knew you why your last bodyguard was fired and it was getting harder by the minute not to step in his footsteps 

You didn’t honour her another glance as you stared into the passing trees and cars which flashed by your eyes as he drove down the streets. Which greatly annoyed Natasha, you weren’t supposed to ignore her like that, like she didn’t even exist to you. She wanted you to look at her with those big doe eyes, while you begged her for more. 

“You’re just gonna stare out the window like that?” Natasha scoffed but still got no reaction from you. “Take that damn things out-“ She reached over and before you could even register she had pulled it out your ear, throwing it in the backseat. 

“They were expensive” you snapped “I don’t fucking care now stop throwing a damn tantrum and relax” She murmured out her knuckles turning white by how hard she was gripping the damn wheel. How she would love to fuck that damn attitude out of you. “Dick” I mumbled under your breath just quite enough for Natasha to overhear. 

“You’re just gonna sit here and pout like a brat?” She asked, not getting an answer from you. “If you behave like one maybe I should just lay you over my knee and give you what brats deserve” She spat and you could clearly see the anger in her eyes. 

“Oh kinky” Your voice was addictive as you teased the older woman “Ist that an invitation?” You could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she was thinking what to make of that statement. 

Without another word she pulled into an empty park deck and searched for the most desolate place in it. When the engine shut off the room was filled with uncomfortable silence. “Get your damn ass in the back I’m teaching you a lesson” She murmured and you listened. 

She put you over her lap, her hands massaging the flesh of your ass. “You’re such a damn brat” Natasha had to laugh “A damn slut too. Oh what would your dear old man say if he saw you like that” She teased knowing her words would get you. 

But you could only whimper when her hands hitched your skirt up to reveal some pretty pink panties. “I’m sorry” You whined hoping she’d go easy on you now “You’re only sorry because I called you out on your bullshit” 

“You’re gonna count each spank, understood” Natasha asked, her voice filled with mockery. You nodded fast to get it over with in hopes she would  maybe touch you more sensually after. The first slap was almost careful to test water with you, but it still made you yelp. “O- one” you stuttered gripping her leg harder. 

Another smack this time harder “two” She had to smile at your desperate sounds “You’re so cute making those sounds I almost have pity for you” She smirked and you heard how she was savoring this moment. It was satisfying to finally show your place. She adjusted your panties over your cheeks again, her hands cold against your hot flesh. “Such a pretty girl” She cooed, reaching out for your hair to pull your head up “You're a pretty girl isn’t that right?” You moaned out at the word feeling your panties starting to wet “I’m your pretty girl”

By the tenth smack she had brought you to tears, your massacre running down your cheeks and it made Natasha just all the more desperate for a taste. “Learned your lesson baby?” she cooed her hands rubbing over your sensitive skin. You nod wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes. Natashas strong hands pulled you up to strangle her lap. “You want a reward now, don’t you baby girl” She sweetly kissed your neck. 

“Yes” You whispered, hiding your face in her shoulder. You could make out sounds of her jeans opening to reveal her gritty strap “your so wet baby” she hushed pulling your panties to the side “all for you” Natasha hummed satisfied with your answer, she guided you down on her strap only after the tip you were already clinging to her shoulders for dear life. “Aw” She mocked “Is my cock to big for your little pussy” You nodded tears staining your shirt “then you’ll have to learn to take it” 

She guided you further down her strap, you couldn’t help but moan at her intrusion. Once you were bottomed out by the older woman you could swear you’d feel her at your cervix. You started to move up and down her strap, the bouncing making your breaths giggle in her face as licked over your perky nipples. You cried out with each move of your hips, wishing that the older women would just help you. 

But she was busy worshipping your chest, peppering light kisses over your soft skin as she listened to the sweet melody of your moans. “Such a good girl” She whispered, rubbing her thumbs over your sensitive nipples, making you squeak.She noticed your tired expression as you started to feel the burn in your muscles , you simply weren’t used to having to work for your pleasure. 

“You’re you” You cried, after what felt like an eternity for your legs with still nothing to make up for. Her hands went to your waist keeping it grounded, which also made you release a sound of disagreement. “Such a brat” She chuckled.

“You can’t even make yourself cum huh? Guess you’re so dumbed down you need my help with everything” She spat guiding your hips at a much faster pace. She vigorously fucked into your puffy pussy making you squeal like an abused puppy. 

“Fucking slut got what she fucking wanted huh.” She grabbed your hair pulling it back “You gonna cum whore? Gonna cum on my cock like a bitch?” You cried out once more, loving the way she treated you. “Fuck yes” She chuckled still moving you at a fast pace, the harness felt so good against her clit. “Yeah cum on my cock” 

With a few more harsh fucks you came over her lap falling into her embrace. “Good girl” She whispered, her hands rubbing you back. “Did I hurt you baby?” You shook her head recovering from your orgasm. “No, I’m fine… but you didn’t cum” She chuckled “I’m alright, the vision of you was enough for me, but we have to get going before your daddy fires me because we’re so late”

[notanactressyayy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . Natasha and you were the only 'constant' in each other's lives. poor you, to think you could get over her so easily.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — making out, g!p Natasha, guided masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, swearing, homesickness, fluff, reconciliation.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english isn't my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. been in love w Nat for a damn long time — i've been away for a while, but turns out i can't really live without her. i miss my red so much :(

Natasha Romanoff rarely had the chance to see the same face twice. She saw a lot of people throughout her life — as a spy, as a superhero, or simply as Natasha. The thing is: it was unlike she would return to a place she’s been before. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be on the run. Thus, she traveled around the whole world, and saw thousands, millions of different faces. Destiny made sure not to let her cross paths with the same individual again. It wasn’t only the diversity of people that she witnessed, though. This woman saw the world. She knew life’s ups and downs, and at some point in her life, she just got used to the idea that it would forever be like this: boring. Boring experiences, boring women, boring men, boring relationships. Nothing was ever exciting, thrilling. It felt like she was advanced in time, and the rest of the world wasn’t following her. This wasn’t a complete lie, she got her maturity at a very young age, which made her pay the price now, in adulthood. 

For a spy, the most important thing is to learn not to be caught off guard. But it seemed like life was never on Natasha’s side. And this time — it felt good. Oh, it felt so good. 

At first, she didn’t want to get high hopes. It would be just another temporary friendship to help her pass time, nothing more. However, you managed to surprise the red haired Avenger in the best way possible. When she decided to spare a little time of her life and get to know you more, it was really mind-blowing the side of herself she discovered. She never thought she could actually be.. giddy. Like a silly, hopeless romantic girl. That is what she became whenever it was time to see you. She got excited. Actually excited. She couldn’t see through you, read your emotions or body language, like she did with other people; It was a natural thing, sometimes she didn’t even mean to do that. But you, something within you, kept her at bay. Like you effortlessly turned Natasha into a normal woman. Somebody who could love. Somebody that wasn’t raised and enhanced to be a killer. Not that you went through anything like she did, but you weren’t naive. You showed her that people didn’t necessarily have to be traumatized to be aware of things, of reality, of the surroundings. And for her, you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world. Inside and out. She adored you. 

Opening up was never easy. Revealing the broken parts of herself wasn’t like having a simple chat. But patience is a virtue and thankfully, you followed that say just fine. Little by little, the secrets came out. Most of the parts you already knew — it’s not like she wasn’t a worldwide known superhero. What you mostly had to acknowledge were her feelings, the point of view of the little girl who was experiencing it all, and becoming a strong woman, with built up walls around her heart. Doing that was no problem. Natasha couldn’t be more thankful. 

She couldn’t be more infatuated. More in love.

She’d always remember that one day: in the bar with her team, and you — chattery, music, tons of drinks and laughter. Stolen glances. Stomach butterflies, wild. The moment Clint pulled Laura a little closer to himself, and Tony kissed Pepper’s cheek. How she used that as an excuse to pull you into her lap. Your breath getting labored. Eyelashes gently fluttering, to the point she could count them. Your gentle yet tight grip on her shoulders. Your goddamn eyes staring right into hers. And the part where everything would change: her own bodily reactions to all those little details about you. When you restlessly shifted on her lap, quietly gasping when something poked you through your dress. Eyes going wide at the bulge showing on her black jeans. 

From that point on, you belonged to her.

Or so, she thought.

The sex was great, but she was in conflict — she couldn't tell if the only reason for it to be that enjoyable was because you were both tipsy, almost drunk, or if it was really meant to be that way. It felt right, yes, to have you in her arms like this — naked, piles of discarded clothes laying by her bed.. the sound of your quiet snoring as you cuddled into her. It was also a relief to her. To have someone care for her, desire her, after so long, after forever. The night had been amazing. She was a mature woman anyway, wasn't she? She could sort her feelings out without messing up everything.

Wrong. By the morning, everything would change.

You stared at her as she got up and got dressed again, eyes still a little blurry from sleep, eyebrows ceasing into a small confused frown. "You're not staying?" you'd ask, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, bringing up the sheets to cover your unclothed body. "Ugh, my head hurts like hell,"

"Got things to do." she simply answered, cradling the side of your face and kissing your forehead. You could swear the look on her face was.. apologetic. She tilted her head towards the nightstand, where some aspirin and water waited for you. "Take these. I'll text you later."

"Okay.." you mumble, disoriented. As she leaves, you reach out, shoving the aspirin in your mouth and downing the pills with water. Was there something you were missing? Because all you could remember was how good her hands felt on you, the way they wrapped around you neck while she—

You shook your head, lying down again, and closing her eyes. All the fun and pleasure you had been given from the previous night was slowly vanishing and being replaced by a feeling of uncertainty and confusion. Natasha was an enigmatic person, okay, but you thought you knew her better. She had no reason to leave you just like that, especially when she had already vented about all her past experiences, flaws and failures. Nah, it was probably nothing, you were overthinking. Perhaps she indeed had something important to take care of. You closed your eyes as fatigue took over, and slept for a little bit more.

Natasha went back to her apartment — one of her apartments, and for the whole day, her thoughts ran like crazy. Her emotions were all over the place. She had just fucked her best friend, the one person she felt comfortable and at ease with. She considered her feelings carefully; this.. dinamic, between you two, had not been platonic for a considerable amount of time. But not being platonic doens't necessarily means being romantic. It could either be love, or lust. What happened the day before was carnal, once the two of you were way too much in a drunken haze to actually feel anything.

And, like always, Natasha didn't want to think about falling in love. She felt scared just by thinking about this. It was a new territory, one she wasn't willing to deep dive in. So she took her phone and deeply sighed, opening her chat with you.

"Yesterday was fun. But I need some time. I don't think this can work. Hope you're doing okay. xx"

That text just completely shattered you.

You had no idea what you did wrong. It was not like Natasha was pushing you away forever — but while being with her, the only thought running through your mind was: I wanna be with her. I wanna explore this with her. And Natasha didn't give a single sign that she thought the opposite. You felt... disappointed. With yourself and her. For hoping.

Yeah, getting involved with an ex kgb Avenger killer spy probably wasn't the best idea.

You wouldn't simply forget everything you shared together, so the easiest way here not to create a big tension was.. being fake. The two of you weren't stupid, you were aware of the unspoken feelings going on. But what happened that night should not happen again. So your friendship was what prevailed. A friendship like the start. But obviously, with a few changes. Natasha and you didn't lose touch — on the contrary, you were closer than ever. You spoke and flirted (a lot), but with one small rule, a rule that you subconsciously added to this.. situationship. No feelings involved. It would be singularly that. Friends, some casual hookups, and nothing else.

It didn't last, because that's not what you both wished, longed for.

Little by little, this turned boring again. Not that you were the boring one and she just didn't realize this before. Far from that. The thing was: Natasha and you were supressing your feelings, consequently, supressing all the thrill, the delicious tension that hanged in the air whenever she, once again, crossed paths with you. The russian wanted nothing more than just grab you and kiss you hard, pour all the emotions that she kept bottled up throughout her life into the kiss. But unfortunately, she couldn't. She had a duty to fullfil, as someone born, destined to save the world.

And with all of this, you and her settled a distance. You with your previous and trivial life, and her, saving little girls from bad guys, and bringing down cats from tall trees. It was truly shocking: one day, you lived for Natasha Romanoff. She was your everything and everything you'd ever want. In a blink of an eye, it ended. You followed your paths, like two completely different people, with different purposes.

Right person, wrong time.

Fool her, to think she could get over you that easily. Poor you, to try and put that inside of your head as well.

Sometimes, when normally doing daily tasks, you would catch yourself thinking about her — when you were going to watch TV and put your legs on the coffee table, instead of simply sitting. It was an habit of hers. Or when eating something with peanut butter. It was her favourite late night snack. When it rained. She liked to watch the rain. With somebody else's hands on you. It wasn't right. It was never right to have somebody else touch you. You were constantly thinking about your life before things with her changed — the memories brought comfort, a sense of nostalgia.. at some point, you weren't living in the present anymore. Just faking. Faking your feelings. Pretending it was okay to let her go.

This woman ruined you for everything and everyone else.

Natasha could relate to that. In a life that could be resumed in one word: a 'whirlwind' of a life, and you were her only 'constant' among all of this... she couldn't bear this anymore.

So she made an important decision.

The decision was today.

Today: she'd take you out again, praying that, if not reconciliation, she wanted at least to say everything she had to say. Because if life taught her one thing, was to make choices that she wouldn't regret in the future. And it was damn right she would regret choosing not to meet you tonight.

Sitting in the stool of the bar, in a more secluded corned, her eyes followed your figure as you approached — purse hanging on your shoulder, dress exposing your back and a little bit of your waist, eyes so awfully soft and gentle as you looked at her. It wasn't fair. A pang of guilt hit her hard. Oh, she regretted letting that go. She wanted you to be mad at her. But you were not. She shakily rises to her feet to kiss your cheek as you stand in front of her, thankfully not stumbling. Your eyes lock again, already in a trance. Just like that other day.

"How are you doing?" you ask. Natasha could cry. She missed that voice everyday. "Did I take too long? I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't worry." she swallows hard. You both sit on the stools by the countertop. When the bartender comes, the redhead dismisses him. She wanted the two of you sober for this. "I'm... so much better now that you're here, honestly. How about you?"

"Amazing." you chuckle, tilting your head to the side and watching her. She didn't change a bit. Hair braided, black jeans, leather jacket. That was your Natasha. "I didn't expect you calling me here, to be honest..—"

"Me neither." she admits, in a whisper. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, eyes involuntarily starting at your mouth. She sighs and looks into your eyes. "But I had to... I can't get you off my mind."

Her sincerity never fails to amaze you. With each second that passes, the butterflies in your tummy return, to remind you of the past — feelings and sensations resurfacing. You bite on your bottom lip and look around the bar, quickly scanning to see if there was anybody paying attention to the two of you. Maybe a few eyes here and there, which didn't linger. Everyone else was too busy minding their own business — and it's not like you'd care if someone was staring anyway. Natasha turned some heads. You felt greedy for that. You were the one having her. The only one having her.

"You live in my head rent free, Natasha." you tell her, voice having a sultry edge to it. You slowly stand, walking closer.

You take her hands and open her arms — making it possible for you to straddle her thigh. She tenses almost immediately. Her head tilts up to stare into your eyes, arms circling your waist to keep you close, where she wanted. You shake your head when you see a small frown between her eyebrows — lips pressing against that small spot, coaxing a little exhale of hers. She missed you. Everyday. Every minute. She wanted that respect and care all the time.

"What are we even doing here?" she whispers, so quietly you almost can't hear it. Her hands cup your waist and gently roam up and down your sides, palms brushing against your bare skin every now and then, all thanks to the waist slits of your dress. Your face leans closer to hers, noses bumping — the smallest of touches, making you both crave what you once had. "Why didn't I just invite you to my place right away?"

"I don't know. Why didn't you?" you raise one eyebrow, fingertips caressing her jawline. Her hands give your waist a squeeze — and you almost moan. She swore she could hear it. It replayed in her head, the beautiful sounds you made for her. She wanted to hear them again. She was going to make you sound like that again.

It wasn't just a physical thing — your body and mind craved her touch, her presence, so much that just the mere thought of being on her bed again got you soaked. She felt something wet through the rough fabric of her jeans, and that got her brain spinning. She fell for you hard. So painfully hard.

"Let's get out of here," she groans, hands firmly grabbing your thighs and lifting you up — wrapping your legs around her waist and carrying you out the pavement. Her hardness pressed right against your core — you blushed, hiding your face on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck.

In a heartbeat, you were back at your house.

Your place, because it was the fastest way, when taking the cab. No words were exchanged, not yet. The aching, burning need had to be taken care of first — before properly talking. Your back hits the wall hard as Natasha pushes you against it — her body trapping you between herself and the hard surface — hands hardly, possessively holding you by the hips. Desperately, even. Making sure you wouldn't slip away from her grasp. Her lips dance with yours, tentatively, yet naturally, tongues tasting one another after what felt like centuries. She felt so good, tasted so good.

"Nat..—" you moan against her lips, having her bottom lip trapped between your teeth, then releasing it. Your forehead against hers, eyes soft and filled with desire. Your hands hold her cheeks, traveling to her jaw. Needily, you press kisses to the side of her throat, breathing shaky, heart hardly thrumming. "I never stopped thinking about you..."

"Yeah?" she hums, grabbing the hem of your dress and lifting it up, bunching the fabric by your hips. Her fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and pull them down, pooling around your feet — making you gasp, and pull away from her neck. Eyes wide open. The air hits your heat, making you needier for her.

You almost mewl.

"God, I need you." Natasha utters. She grabs you again and smashes her lips against yours once more, now with so much more passion, more need, more anxiety. Her bulge presses against your now unclothed wetness, coaxing a tiny cry of need out of you. You breathlessly pull away from her, reaching down and fumbling with the buttons of her jeans — until she stops you.

"No—"

"Quiet." she shushes, maneuvering you back, until your body hits the mattress. She climbs onto the bed and stays in a kneeling position, hungrily taking you in. Messy, needy, all for her. Sober, like she wanted planned from the first time. "That dress goes off."

Her voice is commanding, yet not harsh — and her eyes betray her a little. Her eyes are almost pleading, that it is clear how much she needs this. To have you all to herself, to show you how much she wants that. Her underwear becomes even more tight as she sees your trembling fingers, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside, lips parted. Just by her look, you can tell she wants the bra off, too. So you reach behind your back and grants her silent wish, breasts now exposed to her sight.

"There you are..." she moans to herself, shamelessly taking in the sight of you. You're a work of art. With her hand, she coaxes your knees open, and parts your legs. "My... you're so wet. So perfectly wet."

"You're still with a lot on.." you quietly complain, feeling hot and shy at the same time. But her gaze is enough to wipe away the confusion from your eyes. She had a plan.

"Touch yourself for me." she breathes out.

Your eyes briefly widen with the unexpectedness of this statement. You had certainly done this before — touched yourself thinking of her — but the idea of showing this, while she watched, never crossed your mind. But it wasn't an unpleasant idea. It was actually... hot. Sensual. They darken, pupils blown wide as you make yourself comfortable against the pillows, eyelids fluttering as your legs spread a little more, palm resting on your stomach, then moving down. Deliberately, it reaches your sex, a shakily sigh leaving your lips when your middle and ring finger collect some of the slick coat covering your sensitiveness, using it to slowly rub your clitoris, getting you to gasp louder.

"Natasha..." you whisper, eyes falling close, thoughts wandering.

Wandering back to the start — when you first discovered your feelings for her, then the climax, when you both got in bed due the alcohol — then the aftermath, when you needed her so much, felt so alone at night, that your fingers were the only solution. Little wet sounds echo within the room as you rub circles on yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure, that it doesn't take long for the pit in your stomach to manifest itself.

"Faster." Natasha rasps out, taking her jacket and quickly throwing it away. She pulls her tank top over her head, then undo the buttons of her jeans — leaving the bed, just so she can get rid of all the uncomfortable fabric, and climbing it again. She crawls closer to you — eyeing you as you worked on your pussy, her hands caressing your thighs, adding to the stimulation.

"Please...!" you whimper, doing as you're told — rubbing yourself faster — slipping one of your fingers inside your entrance, almost cumming, that quickly. "Please, I need you..!"

"I need you too," she moans to herself, and harshly grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away. You moan loudly in protest — Natasha wouldn't tease you. Not today, when you both needed each other so much. She discards her undergarments, finally — groaning as she's set free. Your eyes lock on her hard length, which was practically hitting her abs now.

"Put it inside me." you beg, grabbing her shoulders to pull her closer. She hovers over you, bracing herself on her forearms, on each side of your body. Your fingernails gently graze her back. Natasha was feeling so much, so much more than she ever felt. Your eyes were sparkling so much, like you were crying — shimmering with the depth of your adoration for her. You grab her cheeks and press your lips to hers, in a gentle peck. Knowing her past, she didn't have to explain her reasons for what had happened. She was scared before, and you respected. "Go on. Love me."

She couldn't wait no longer. She lowers her forehead to your shoulder and places her hands on your hips — her chest against yours, as she lined herself with your hole, effortlessly pushing inside. Stretching you out, like she once did. Having the chance to hear that delicious sounds again.

"You're mine... shit," she groans, rolling into you gently, getting you used to the feeling first. You're so tight, so perfect around her. Natasha's overwhelmed. Her hands press against the base of your throat, squeezing firmly, yet leaving enough room for air. She's so hot. "That pussy is mine. You're mine. You're all mine—"

"Yes," you moan, wrapping your legs around her middle. You wouldn't take long to come tonight. Maybe she'd make you come over and over. She rocks into you, pace not too slow, not too fast. Just right. The right tempo to bring you both the pleasure and connection you so much needed. "Mhm.. fuck, Nat, missed your cock,"

"You're gonna take it over and over—" she comments — kissing your shoulder, roaming her hands up your body, her right palm cupping your breast and giving it a firm squeeze. Your head lolls back, mouth opening to allow a satisfied moan out. "I'm never fucking letting you go again,"

She accelerates, pulling almost all the way out just to slam back into you again — feeling her climax approach. She moves her mouth close to your ear and moans — her own sounds now mixing with yours.

"Natasha...! Fuck, you feel soo good," you gasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you get closer. She takes the hint immediately, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up, allowing her a better angle. "Ah, gimme more,"

"My greedy girl," she groans, her head tilting back. Her cock twitches inside of you — precum already painting you white. She glanced down at where your folds swallowed her, eyes darkening impossibly more. "You're so goddamn tight... 'm not gonna last, moya krasivaya malysha,"

"Okay.. 'ts okay... Cum with me..." you beg her, tangling your fingers into her red strands of hair, pulling her down more, so her forehead rests against yours — the eye contact increasing the intimacy of the moment. She didn't know what to expect now. Didn't know what to think. Only that she had to fill you up.

"C'mon.. nhg, darling.. c'mon.. cum around me," she encourages, feeling her own legs shake as her orgasm washed over her.

She grabbed your hips hard and slammed into you — once, twice, three times, filling you up with her hot release. You squeezed your eyes shut as your body shuddered forwards, breasts pressing against her own as a long, strangled moan flowed out of you, nails digging into her back, pressing her body against yours as you finished. Your walls clenched around her cock, swallowing her more, not allowing her to pull away just that. "God.. I love you!"

Natasha blinks, not sure if she heard right. Her heart squeezes in her chest, arms wrapping around your body. Her back hits the bed and she flips you on top of her, still inside of you — but now, her member softened. The adrenaline was running wild, but you had calmed down a little bit. Just a little. Because this time, it wasn't pure sex. It was lovemaking.

Your face is buried in her chest as she brings up the covers, creating a cocoon of warmth around you. She buries her face into your hair and inhales deeply, staying silent. Just to process things.

"I love you, too. So so much." she murmurs into you hair. She felt terrified to say this. But once you're someone who she already showed her scars to, it's not that bad anymore.

"You do?" you ask expectantly, feeling tired, drowsy. Natasha smiles at that. She feels her eyes burning with heavy emotion. She nods.

"Yes... I love you so much." she confirms, softly stroking her hair, brushing some strands away from your sweaty forehead. "And I want you to be mine. Will you be mine?"

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend after the sex?" you chuckle quietly, but happiness was evident in your voice. Now you could sleep at peace. The first night of rest you'd have in a long time. In the arms of the woman you cherished, worshipped.

Natasha had won now. She was so fucking relieved. All because of a phrase.

"Of course I will, you idiot."

"I'm never, ever, ever letting you go again." the room is messy, smell of sex lingering around you. But now things were sorted out. By the morning, you could have a more direct, serious conversation. For now, you'd rest together, wrapped up in each other's arms, like it was always meant to be.

[waltermis]

THAT'S WHAT WE'VE BEEN SAYING!

[younswnn]

Y/n : [drawing in the living room, minding her own business]

Y/n : [sneezes]

Clint, from the vent : Bless you.

Y/n, looking around : G-God?

Clint, accidentally bumps his head : Jesus Christ!

Y/n : JESUS CHRIST!?!!?!

Nat, watching the whole scene : No baby, that’s just uncle Clint from the vent [laughs]

[rewiringtoheal]

My Soul Aches For Your Touch

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with a spouse can be challenging, especially when children and mundane tasks take up so much of the day. Sometimes you have to do something drastic in order to shake things up.

warnings: 18+, minor DNI, Reader has a penis, smut.

A/N: This one is a labor of love, nervous to release it into the world but happy it's complete. First time writing anything like this. I tried my best.

Natasha stared at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her had softened quite significantly with the domestic life she has been leading. Long gone were the days of powerful thighs and toned arms from countless hours spent in the training room. She knows she still looks beautiful, shapely even but she can’t help scrutinizing the ways in which she has changed. Not just physical changes but the emotional ones as well. The once unphased Black Widow now a mother and wife who wears her heart on her sleeve. She was barely on the cusp of 35 yet she sometimes felt like a has-been stuck in the same boring routine; having traded in saving the world for morning school drop offs. 

Don’t get her wrong, she loves her life. She has everything she had ever dreamed of and never truly dared to hope for. The most amazing spouse and two children who mean the absolute world to her. The changes that have been made to her mind and body over time are a testament to them. And the prolonged feeling of being loved and safe; they have instilled within her. But there was something missing in this wonderful life that left her feeling unfulfilled. A silent yearning to feel desirable again.

She needed a change of pace, desperately. Nothing too drastic, just something to knock her out of the rut she’s been in. If she is honest with herself, she wants to feel like her younger self used to; powerful and untouchable. A world renowned spy with a sexual prowess that rivaled none; making men and women alike beg for a chance to warm her bed.

Which is why despite her nerves she has decided to go through with this tonight. 

She finishes styling her signature auburn curls, the soft waves cascade down her back and shoulders, framing her face in a way that brings attention to supple lips coated in a subtle pink lipstick. She went a bit lighter on the mascara and eyeliner as well, wanting her natural features to shine through, and the green of her eyes had definitely become the star of the show. She smirks, trying to emulate the confidence that used to be second nature to her. 

Before the feelings of embarrassment could take root and she lost the will to continue this facade, she turned on her heels and strode into her closet, determined to find an outfit that would turn heads tonight. She wanted something that showed off her sex appeal; which she knew she still possessed. It just wasn’t something she flaunted anymore. 

She wanted something that was sexy yet sophisticated, settling on an understated black dress and a pair of matching pumps. The light pink lingerie set she had underneath would be quite the surprise for whoever would be finding themselves in her bed. She hopes the discovery makes their heart race. 

She felt a flicker of guilt twist in her stomach at the sensual thought, or perhaps just her nerves continuing to act up. Natasha compartmentalizes those thoughts away as she dresses quickly. It was sister’s night this evening and Yelena’s girlfriend’s family was hosting a bit of a soiree. And her goal for the evening was quite different to her baby sisters.

She took one last glance at herself, making sure she looked put together. She smirked again, this time she truly felt like her old self. For the first time in a long time she felt sexy and emboldened; it was a nice feeling. She turned to leave the walk-in closet, pausing at the entryway, her eyes briefly catching sight of her spouse's dirty boxers haphazardly thrown into their laundry basket. They’re covered in crocodiles with little sunglasses on them. The sight makes her heart pang with sorrow as she fiddles with her wedding ring, taking a deep breath she wiggles the ring until it slides off her finger, before placing it in her jewelry box.   

The front gate alarm pings, signaling that Yelena and Kate have arrived. She shakes the anxious thoughts from her mind not wanting to think about this any longer; steeling her resolve she makes her way out to her ride.

xXx  

You were in desperate need of a thrill. The life you had was one you coveted but the mundane activities that were expected of you everyday had grown rather dull. You knew that doing the same old things wouldn’t get you the results you wanted so you decided to shake things up. Instead of heading straight home after a long day of work, you decided to take up your client's invitation to her fancy soiree. 

After greeting Eleanor Bishop with a warm hello, you head straight toward the bar, asking for an old fashioned with an orange twist. You take a slow deep drink, enjoying the first initial burning sensation that hits the back of your throat. Gently, leaning against the bar you allow the alcohol to settle into your system and just bask in the ease at which it puts your mind. 

You let your eyes sweep across the room looking for a woman that peaks your interest. You knew you weren’t going home alone tonight; a beautiful woman warming your bed may just be the key to shaking up the monotony. You take note of several gorgeous women, some twirling around the dance floor and some chatting amongst peers, when a shimmering waterfall of red caught your eye. 

Your eyes zero in on her, she’s mingling with a group of socialites, an heiress in her own right perhaps. Not an outlandish guess with how she carries herself and the beauty that radiates from her. She’s made to be the center of attention and you can tell she revels in it. It’s not long before the belle of the ball is asked to dance. Some tall aristocrat; he’s handsome you suppose if you're into that sort of thing.  

You take another swig of your drink, allowing yourself to watch her move across the ballroom. The embodiment of grace as she dances.

You were mesmerized by the woman, and there was no way that pretentious asshole was going to be the one taking her home. Her fiery mane shimmered underneath the ballroom lights, the soft curls bouncing with every graceful movement. The black dress she was wearing had your mouth watering; every movement allowed you to see delicious amounts of ivory skin. Her curves were on full display; the thought of sinking your teeth into that voluptuous backside had you weak in the knees. And that damn smirk she’s wearing almost does you in; you swear she’s taunting you.

You want to worship every inch of her. It’s what she deserves being that damn fine. And you know for a fact that this yuppie won’t get on his knees for her.

You shoot back the rest of your drink, before setting down the empty glass, and making your way towards them.

“Excuse me, sweetheart, would you mind if I cut in?” You say almost breathless.

She’s even more gorgeous up close. 

xXx

She had seen you walk in a while ago, the warm greetings exchanged with Eleanor Bishop and the casual way you were leaning against the bar aroused her curiosity. And the form fitted black suit you were wearing aroused more than that. You looked dashing to say the least. 

She felt your gaze linger on her as she socialized, it exhilarated her to be watched in such a shameless manner. You did nothing to hide the desire, lighting up your eyes, your intentions quite clear. 

She smirked before accepting an invitation to dance from a rather stiff businessman, wondering just how far she would have to push you for you to be the one asking. Never taking into account that you would interrupt them. It was bold of you and she was pleased with your actions. 

With your offer accepted the nameless man left without making a scene; just slight disappointment in his eyes. She didn’t even feel a hint of remorse as you took her in your arms. 

She felt a shiver run up her spine as you took command of the dance. Leading her around the ballroom with a finesse that comes with years of practice. 

The two of you moved through the dance with a sensual grace, your bodies flowing together seamlessly, the passionate embrace amplifying the flirtatious atmosphere.

The warmth of your body, the smell of your cologne, and your hungry gaze had Natasha burning with desire. She hadn’t been this turned on in quite some time. 

As the dance was coming to a close she decided she couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of your company any longer. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

You nodded without hesitation, grabbing her hand with tenderness as you led her out of the ballroom. She waved to Yelena before they got too far away, letting her sister know where she was headed. The blonde was grinning ear to ear. 

xXx

The car ride to their final destination was taking entirely too long. She was enchanted by the way your tongue darted out to lick your lips and the subtle bouncing of your left leg. It was one of the only indications she had that you were just as impatient as she was. The other clue she had to go off of was the generous outline of a semi-erect penis making itself visible in those deliciously tight pants of yours. She needed the fire burning between her legs to be satiated this instant. The hand caressing Natasha’s inner thigh was not helping matters.

“Pull over.”

“Sweetheart, we’re almost there.”

She didn’t care. All she cared about was the deep ache she knew could only be satisfied by your cock. As need and lust consumed her; every rational thought left her mind. 

She grabbed the hand resting on her thigh, slowly dragging it up to stroke against soft pink panties, the groan you released let her know you could feel how wet she was. 

“Pull the damn car over, now”

“Fucking hell, you’re already so worked up babe.” You husk, as you pull over onto the side of the road, safely parking. 

Natasha slides into your lap in a hast, “You have no idea.” 

xXx

You situate the seat so she’s comfortable, before pulling that tantalizing mouth of hers into an earth shattering kiss. She whimpers as your assault on her mouth turns frantic; wanting nothing more than to consume her. Delicate hands weave their fingers through your hair, as you work to undo the zipper on the back of her dress. You break away from the kiss briefly to peel it down Natasha’s arms, and to pull the black material down her body to pool around her waist. Fuck, the lacey pink bra covering her breasts makes your cock throb with need. 

Your eyes watch goosebumps erupt on Natasha’s heaving chest; as her flushed skin adjusts to the cool air. She tilts your head up, kissing you hard and desperate. Your tongues massaging one anothers in tandem, every once in a while pausing to suck and swirl your tongues into the caverns of each other's mouths.  

Your arms slip around her sides, fingers caressing the smooth skin of Natasha’s back before unclasping her bra and shimming it down her arms. Discarding it without care as your lips leave that additive mouth of hers to kiss along her jaw. She squirms in your lap, as you nip and lick your way down the line of her throat, leaving a trail of red marks in your wake. 

You pull back and admire the intoxicating woman before you. Those gorgeous emerald eyes that bewitched you from across the ballroom are now blown black with a carnal hunger and her lips are kiss swollen. That lovely shade of pink lipstick is smeared down her chin. And her neck is painted in your love-bites and saliva. She looks wrecked. You could come at the sight alone. 

“Are you going to stare at me all night or are you finally going to touch me?” 

She looks pleased by your admiration, despite what her words may otherwise imply.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been touching you but I promise you’re going to be able to feel me everywhere in a second.”

The pair of soft full breasts attached to this divine being are too tempting to ignore any longer. Your lips descend on her right breast with utter devotion, your tongue flicking over a pretty pink peak; coaxing it taut. Before pulling her nipple into your mouth and suckling. 

She arches into you with a breathless moan, offering more of herself up to you with fervor. As you show equal amounts of attention to each breast your hands caress Natasha’s sides, slowly making their way to her backside. You drag the dress up her hips and expose her center, sliding her panties to the side, your fingers slip through damp curls with ease to massage her clit. 

Natasha shudders from the contact, intuitively grinding her hips into your fingers. She revels in the friction for a little while, feeling the pressure begin to build, and knowing that she needs you inside of her right now. Her hands slide down to your belt buckle, yanking it open, you lift your hips up allowing her to drag your slacks and boxers down in one foul swoop. Her fingers wrap around your thickness with enthusiasm; her hand stroking in a firm but gentle caress.

“Hmm, fuck. I need you so bad.” You groan, thrusting into her hand. 

“Me too, baby. I need you inside me.” Natasha mewls.

Natasha slows her movements, grabbing your tie pulling you into a passionate kiss, her hips lifting up and with your guidance sinks down onto your cock. 

Her back grows taut, needing to take a minute to adjust to the feeling of being so full, before she starts rolling her hips. You grip her backside and begin to thrust up into her. She chants your name as you pick up the pace. Natasha matches your rhythm with vigor, her breath labored as she slams down onto you.

Natasha’s hands find purchase on your shoulders, her fingers crumpling the fabric of your suit jacket as she slides up and down against you. You can’t believe you bothered to get it pressed when this is the only way it should be worn; rumpled and covered in her slick. She rests her forehead against yours, panting into your mouth as your lower halves move in tandem. 

She is so tight and so incredibly warm. You continue to pump into her, her slick wet heat engulfing you as you feel the walls of her core beginning to flutter. With determination, you shove your hand between your gyrating bodies, your thumb sliding through soaked folds to massage her clit. 

You feel her inner walls clamp around you before she lets out a cry of your name, her nails sink into the back of your head and neck as she comes hard against you. The intense stimulation is too much for you to bear as you follow her over the edge with a grunt. 

She continues to keep you close as her breathing begins to mellow out, you sprinkle every inch of bare skin available to you with kisses as she begins to untangle herself from you. Natasha chuckles as she takes in your appearance, your expensive suit is wrinkled beyond repair and your skin is coated in a sheen of sweat. It fills her with a deep sense of satisfaction to have done such a number on you. 

Her eyes flick down between her legs, catching sight of the barely visible waistband of your black boxers, straining against your muscular thighs. They are too dull for her taste. 

“You know the suit was so sexy on you but I have to say I am not a fan of these underwear.” Natasha says, gaze returning to you and it’s full of mischief. 

You look up at her and grin, “Well the next time we fulfill one of our fantasies I promise I’ll buy a new pair of quirky animal boxers. Maybe some polar bears or something.”

She laughed and bit her lip, “Oh, I appreciate the consideration, Detka…” she trails off, lost in thought for a second, “Now tell me more about these fantasies of yours.”

You reach down grasping her left arm, pulling her hand up landing playful nips to the tips of her fingers. “Oh sweetheart, I’ve got so many fantasies revolving around you. Some new ones involving that damn lingerie set. You look so fucking sexy in pink.”

You note the subtle mood shift, the sadness and vulnerability now in Natasha’s eyes, it makes your heart weep.

“Yeah?” She asks tone so hopeful

You knew that the two of you had been stuck in a rut as of late, the monotony of family life not leaving much room for the two of you to nurture your relationship; emotional or sexual. There was a strict schedule for everything concerning the kids and with the long hours you worked, it left a lot of your marriage up in the air. Only really having time for quickies in the shower or watching a movie together at the end of the day. That is if your kids didn’t interrupt the two of you. 

When you were young the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other and you know that love changes over time. This however was different and unacceptable to you. Natasha was the love of your life, the sexiest woman in the world in your eyes and the fact that she no longer knew that was gut wrenching. As you look up into her eyes, seeing all the love, hope and desire for you there, you know from this moment on you would do anything to make her feel like the strong, sexy and courageous woman you know her to be.

And after tonight, you know that the fire that burns between you two is still there. All it needs is a little coaxing to ignite it and you were damn sure going to keep that fire fed from now on.

You lift your hand up to caress her cheek, “Natasha, I know our relationship has fallen to the wayside a bit since the kids were born but sweetheart you are still so damn sexy to me. I love you so fucking much. And I am so sorry for letting it get this bad.” 

“I love you too, baby. Please don’t put all of this on you. I know I haven’t been making our marriage a priority either…I’m sorry for that.” Natasha kisses the corner of your mouth. “It’s a relief that after all this time you still think I’m sexy.” She chuckles, gesturing to herself with contempt. “I know I don’t look like I used too.”

“The fact that you don’t believe that your fucking gorgeous and that I crave you like a person in hell craves ice water is on me.” You implore her to see the truth in your words. “I am going to do everything I can to make us a priority again. I'm done always putting the kids first. You deserve to be loved and fucked to your hearts content.” Your voice holds conviction. 

Natasha yanks on your tie pulling you in for a passionate kiss. “Well in that case…maybe we can take advantage of the kids staying with your mom tonight. You can show me just how much you crave me, baby.” 

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.” You help Natasha slide back over into the passenger seat, and get your clothes in order. “That being said, when we get home Mrs. Y/L you're putting your wedding ring back on.” You send her a playful glare, as you restart the car. “If I ever see that finger bare again…there will be consequences.”

Natasha giggles, “Consequences huh?...mhmm.. I’d like to experience that but…” She winks at you. “It was definitely a bit of a risk I took, I'll admit. I won’t be taking it again. Now drive, baby.”

It was an exhilarating night for the both of you. And as you head down the road toward your shared home, it feels like the beginning of a brand new adventure. 

[rach-maximoff]

Wanda: What is one thing nobody knows about you?

Y/N: I get jealous when my phone dies.

Wanda:

Natasha *from across the room*: Y/N we talked about this.

[thesvnandthemooon]

short n’ sweet au

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

natasha romanoff x fem!reader, college!au

cute headcanons bc i can’t stop thinking about them

• nat watching you take off your makeup. every night, without fail, she’ll sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch you (once niko is born, she’ll obviously hold him in her lap so he can watch his mommy too <3)

• nat will adjust your necklaces/straps/rings/whatever just to have an excuse to touch you

• pinky promises!! always holding out her pinky for you to intertwine it with yours

• natasha doesn’t get nervous often, but when she does, it’s adorable. she’ll grab your hand and play with your fingers, twist your rings and massage your palms. if there’s a sharpie nearby, she’ll draw little shapes and hearts, too (and a dick, just to add the cherry on top)

• your legs/heels are killing you? she’s definitely carrying you on her back, especially after a long night out and especially once you’re pregnant. the best part is that it doesn’t even faze her. you’re tiny compared to her, so she can easily carry you around. and if you want to sit on her shoulders? hell yeah. she’s used to the feeling of your thighs around her head anyway

• also defo picks you up and puts you on random surfaces. the kitchen counter, the table, the sink in the university’s bathroom. she doesn’t even know why, she just does it

• pulling nat in by her jersey when she gets jealous and watching her melt into a fucking puddle like yes she’s an actual softie <3

• sitting/napping between her legs when she’s playing video games and noticing how her voice gets softer when you doze off. she’ll still trash talk her teammates but at least she won’t wake you doing it

• sleeping in just her letter jacket. literally nothing else. just the jacket. and it kills her

• lipstick smudges everywhere. her neck, jaw, abs, thighs. pressing your lips against every part of her body until she’s breathless and so hard she can’t form a single coherent sentence

• biting her bottom lip while kissing just to hear her moan. bonus points if you’re grabbing the front of whatever she’s wearing

• nat kissing you while you’re in the middle of talking, but especially if you’re rambling or close to starting a fight. yes, she can end a fight that hasn’t even started

+ pregnancy/baby bonus 🍼

• nat kissing your cramping legs and massaging them and actually feeling so so bad

• nat cannot cook. like, at all. but when everything was making you nauseous during the first few weeks of pregnancy and you couldn’t eat anything without throwing it back up? she was in the kitchen all the time, trying new recipes, swapping ingredients, perfecting the seasoning, until she found a food that was safe

• kissing your belly pre-basketball game for good luck 😭 and if she feels the baby move, it’s basically guaranteed they’ll win

• using nat as your personal heater and her being more than happy to let you do it

• nat downloading a contraction timer app but panicking and pressing the wrong buttons when you’re in labor

• you leaving lipstick kisses on niko’s cheeks because it’s adorable (and nat wondering why the fuck you’re painting her son)

• natasha carrying niko around like he’s a football. not because she doesn’t know how to properly carry him, but because she thinks it’s funny

• bringing him to practice and games and nat carrying him onto court. her teammates love him and always give him little high-fives (even if nat has to help him with those)

• you told natasha not to swear around the baby. she forgets every time, though. you get mad every time as well. especially when your toddler drops the f-bomb one day

• nat definitely talks shit about other babies at least once, even if you tell her not to do that (though you can’t really disagree when she says: “ours is cuter”)

• her lifting him into the air like simba (picture cam from modern family but less dramatic)

• niko helping you get ready once he’s older: pretending to put your lipstick on you, holding your jewelry…and being all like “mama pretty” (the baby fever oml)

• he’s a mini-nat and it shows. putting his hands on his hips, raising one eyebrow, saying “watch it” when he’s mad at someone

• matching jerseys!!

[cjjohansson]

- dirty girl -

natasha romanoff x reader - 18+ - smut - reader has a penis - 1.7k

“This is the best idea you’ve had…” You moan as Natasha pulls you into her bedroom, pushing you up against the door and pressing hard kisses into your neck. Your hands comb through her hair to get a firm hold of her, pushing her harder into you, her hands moving to unbutton your shirt. 

“Don’t know how your ex-girlfriend would feel about it though…” You groan after she scratches her nails down your chest towards your trousers.

“How about we don’t talk about my ex while we do this? Huh?” Natasha mumbles back against your lips her hands finally undoing your trousers and pulling them off of your hips, watching them fall to the ground. 

“Now, you either fuck me or you can go back to the party, your choice. I know which one I’d prefer…” Natasha says as she takes a step back, pulling her dress off of herself and leaving her standing in white lacy lingerie. 

You don't bother answering, you simply take a step forward, your hands falling on her waist as you pull her into yourself and meet her lips.

Both of your hands roam each other's bodies, your hands squeezing her breasts while hers go for your crotch. 

“Fuck, you're so beautiful.” You moan as you start moving your hands south, the wetness already clinging to her panties. Your underwear becomes tighter having to accommodate your length. 

Natasha makes quick work pulling your boxers down, your member standing at attention as she takes off her lingerie at record speed. Pulling you down onto the bed leaving you to lay on top of her, her legs instantly surrounding your waist as your member rubs against her wet, slick folds. You both can't stop the moans falling from your lips.

“Now fuck me…” Natasha smirks, her legs tightening around you as you waste no time entering her.

“Shit!” You practically shout, her wet walls tightly contracting around you to accommodate your length. You press your hips slowly against her own, letting her get used to your size before she whimpers and nods her head for you to finally move. 

Natasha’s moans drown out your own, pure pornographic screams falling from her lips as your hips move at an animalistic pace. You’ve wanted this since the moment you laid eyes on her but she had been taken, but now your time is finally here after her breakup only two weeks ago. You should feel guilty, but with the moans falling from her lips, her nails scratching down your back and the way she clenches around you so hard that you can hardly pull out, the guilt leaves you as you completely become focused on her. 

“FUCK-ing hell, you feel so good!” Natasha screams, her body stilling before she falls over the edge, her body then convulsing as she lets go. You slow your thrusts letting her ride her high before you pull out and sit on your heels, watching her cum drip down herself. 

Your member throbs, begging for release. You need to cum. 

Natasha’s eyes meet yours before she smirks, rolling over onto her stomach, and moving to arch her back while on her knees and turning her head to you. 

“What are you waiting for?” She husks, arousal swirling in her eyes as she wiggles her ass towards you. You jump on her instantly. Filling her whole while grabbing her hips and pulling her down hard onto yourself over and over to meet your thrusts. You won't last long, not with this view. Not with your hands gripping her hips so tightly you're sure that you're going to leave bruises. Her curves perfect as you get lost in them. 

One of your hands leaves her hip, grabbing her hair to pull her back flush against your chest. Your hand moves to her neck to hold her against you securely. Her head leans against your neck, her mouth right next to your ear, moans and gasps leaving her lips only driving you crazy. 

“Natasha?” Someone speaks through the door, your thrusts stopping for a second before you recognize the voice. Her ex. 

“Answer her.” You whisper to her, your hips starting to move again as she shakes her head no.

“Answer her, or I stop.” Your hand tightens around her neck, her eyes bore into yours as she clenches around you over the threat. 

“Yeah?” Natasha says shakily, her mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips start moving again. 

“Good girl.” You whisper. Her eyes roll into the back of her head in response.

“Can we talk? Please?” Natasha's head lulls to the side, her teeth biting into your neck to hide another moan from a hard thrust she is given. 

“Now isn’t a good time!” She shouts back. A moan slips through as she speaks. 

“Natasha, are you okay?” Her ex says again, but Natasha can’t respond, too lost in the pleasure she is receiving when your hand leaves her neck and moves to her clit, rubbing hard circles onto her as you finally near your own orgasm, wanting her to fall apart with you. 

“Ugh, Fuckkkk, I’m-I’m fine!” Natasha moans, no longer caring about being heard through the door. 

“You dirty fucking girl. You want her to know someone else is in here fucking you, don't you? I bet she never made you feel like this, huh? Couldn't fuck you as well as I am?” You moan against her neck, letting your teeth sink into her and sucking, making sure to leave your mark.

“No, she didn’t! Shit! I’m gonna cum!” Natasha breathes into the room, your thumb speeding up on her clit as you somehow get your thrusts to speed up even more as you near the edge yourself.

“Natasha! I’m coming in!” The door bursts open. 

Natasha’s head turns towards the door, her body convulsing as you meet her hips a final time, your own orgasm flashing through you as you paint her walls white, your cock throbbing inside her, her cunt squeezing you for every last drop as her ex stands at the door staring at Natasha falling apart for you. 

You blink and her ex is gone, door wide open as your body falls back against your heels, Natasha's body moving with yours as she sits comfortably on your cock as she continues to squeeze you tightly, making your dick hard all over again. A groan falls from both of your lips as you pant into the room. 

“Well, that was…HA, well.” You mumble. Your breathing all over the place over what just happened. 

“That, that was…wow…” Natasha whispers against your neck.

You go to move her off you, worried about how she might be feeling over everything that has just happened. But you stop when Natasha turns her head, her mouth moving over yours as she slips her tongue into your mouth, one of her hands resting on the back of your head to hold you against her, while her hips slowly start to grind down on you.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m definitely not done with you yet.”

[just-aake]

Whispered in Russian

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha teaches you how to speak some Russian during your time together on a mission.

A/n: this was inspired from a request. Not sure if it was what you expected but I hope you'll still enjoy it.

Warnings: fluff, suggestive themes, cursing, Russian translations from google (because I unfortunately do not know the language)

Words: 3250

“Bron' dlya Nataliyi Romanovoy.”

Natasha’s Russian accent flows effortlessly, her voice smooth and confident as she speaks to the front desk receptionist. Her tone carries the ease of someone completely at home in the language. 

It’s a voice you’ve grown intimately familiar with—not just as her teammate for years but also as her partner.

Which also makes it easier to pick up and piece together some of the words, though you’re still far from being fluent. 

Reservation for Natalia Romanova, you translate silently.

The receptionist offers a polite smile, tapping away at her computer until she finds the reservation. With a nod, she retrieves a key card and slides it across the counter to Natasha.

“Dobro pozhalovat, gospazha Romanova. Vot vashi klyuchi ot nomera.”

You listen intently, trying to match the sounds to meaning, but the words come faster than you can process. Your grasp falters after the first few phrases. 

Welcome…Romanova…key

You almost have it, but the rest slips through your mental filter, lost in the quick flow of syllables. Before you can catch up, the receptionist continues in a kind but rapid tone.

“Esli vam ili vashey zhene potrebuyetsya pomoshch, pozvonite na resepshn, i my s radostyu vam pomozhem.”

At that, Natasha’s lips quirk up in a small, amused smirk. The expression is subtle but unmistakable, and it draws your curiosity. 

You glance at her, silently asking what amused her, but she offers no explanation, only thanking the receptionist with a graceful nod as she takes the key card. 

“Spasibo,” Natasha says, her voice as composed as ever.

Thank you. 

That part you recognize immediately, the basic phrase standing out like a familiar face in a crowd.

Natasha’s hand finds your waist as she guides you away from the desk, her touch grounding and affectionate. 

Still, your mind lingers curiously on the exchange. 

Once inside the room, you dive into setting up your equipment for the mission, carefully pulling out the listening gear from your bag. 

Meanwhile, Natasha checks the room methodically, her eyes scanning for anything amiss. She ends her sweep at the window, drawing back the shutters slightly to observe the building across the street—the one where the targets work at.

“What did the receptionist say to you at the end?” you ask, your curiosity finally spilling over as you adjust the calibration on the gear. 

Natasha glances over her shoulder at you, a glint of amusement in her eyes. She takes her time responding, watching as you work with meticulous focus.

“She said if we needed anything, we could call the front desk,” Natasha replies casually, her tone almost too neutral.

You pause, narrowing your eyes as you turn to face her. 

“That’s it?” you ask, skepticism lacing your voice. “Then why did you react like that?”

The smirk you’d noticed earlier reappears, tugging at the corners of her lips. Natasha steps closer to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning in.

“Zhena,” she repeats slowly, enunciating the word with deliberate care. Her breath is warm against your skin as she presses a quick, affectionate kiss to your cheek. “It means ‘wife.’ She called you my wife.”

“Oh,” you reply, your heart fluttering at the thought. 

You fall silent for a moment, processing, before quietly repeating the word under your breath. 

“Zhena,” you murmur, practicing the pronunciation like a secret you want to keep safe. You say it again, slightly louder, trying to mimic Natasha’s intonation.

Natasha’s expression softens as she watches your reaction, her smirk giving way to a small, genuine smile.

Once satisfied with your attempt, you nod firmly, confidence growing. 

Your gaze shifts to the small table in the corner of the room, and something catches your eye. You gesture toward it, brow raised.

“Well,” you say, “that explains the bottle of champagne.”

Natasha follows your gaze, her chuckle warm and rich as she spots the chilled, unopened bottle perched beside two crystal glasses. 

“Hill said this was the only room available,” she replies, her fingers tracing soft patterns at your sides. Her voice drops slightly, the edge of a smirk returning to her lips. “Guess that means we’re playing newlyweds.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, leaning against her as you ponder the situation. 

“Alright,” you nod thoughtfully, “and it won’t look suspicious if we don’t leave our room much since, technically, we’re on our honeymoon.” 

Natasha’s smirk deepens, her eyes glinting with mischief. She tilts her head closer, her lips brushing lightly against yours. 

“Oh, that sounds fun,” she murmurs, her tone dropping into a suggestive lilt.

You roll your eyes, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrays your amusement. 

“I meant it’s a good cover for our mission,” you say pointedly, pulling back just enough to regain your composure. You gesture toward the gear on the table before raising a brow at her. “Or did you already forget the reason why we’re here in the first place?”

Natasha doesn’t answer immediately. 

Instead, her smirk shifts into something a little more daring as she tightens her hold on your waist before pulling you flush against her. Her lips ghost over yours again as she leans in, just close enough for her voice to drop to a whisper.

“I’m multitasking,” she teases, the husky tone sending a shiver down your spine before she closes the small distance between you two.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Some time later, after you two manage to refocus on the mission, you settle in to monitor the listening equipment. 

The two of you wait patiently, earpieces in place, scanning for the key information you need.

But after a few hours of static-filled recordings, indistinct conversations, and absolutely nothing useful, Natasha notices your shoulders beginning to tense with exhaustion. 

She rests a hand on your arm. 

“Take a break,” she offers softly. “I’ll keep watch for now.”

You hesitate, but the encouraging smile on her lips convinces you. 

“Alright,” you relent, stretching out your stiff shoulders before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Once inside, the hot water works wonders, the steam easing the tension in your muscles. 

You feel the stress of the mission starts to melt away, but as you finish, you realize you’ve made a small mistake. 

You forgot to grab your change of clothes for the night. 

With a sigh, you wrap the towel around yourself, water still clinging to your skin, and step out of the bathroom.

The cool air sends a shiver through you as you pad quietly toward your bag.

Natasha’s back is to you as she speaks on the hotel phone. 

Her voice flows smoothly in Russian, soft but clear, and you catch a few familiar words—borscht, pelmeni, blini—dishes you’ve heard her name before.

As you rummage through your belongings, it hits you: she’s ordering dinner. You smile to yourself, amused by the domesticity of the moment, even in the middle of a mission. 

Not wanting to take any longer, you quickly grab what you need, tossing your bag back in its original position as you hear Natasha finish up.

“Da, prosto ostav’te—blyat…”

The abrupt edge in Natasha’s voice pulls your attention, her sudden exclamation making you look up in curiosity.

Her words have stopped mid-sentence, her lips parted slightly as her eyes roam over you. Her gaze lingers on the droplets of water still glistening on your skin, the curve of your shoulders, and the towel that clings just a little too loosely to your body.

It takes her a moment to catch herself. Natasha clears her throat, her voice steadier as she quickly finishes her conversation. 

“Prostite,” she mutters into the phone. “Ostav’te yedu u dveri. Spasibo.”

You pause where you stand as you attempt to piece together what she just said. Your limited Russian skills manage to translate fragments: leave…food…door. 

It’s enough to guess that she told them to leave your dinners outside the room so they won’t come in and see all your equipment set up.

But you also notice that there’s one word missing from the sentence—the one she exclaimed earlier.

It lingers in your mind, unaccounted for, and you try remembering how Natasha said it.

“Blyat…” you repeat, testing the word carefully, sounding it out until you nod in satisfaction, confident you’ve got it.

A low groan comes from Natasha, prompting you to look back at her. Her eyes are noticeably darker now.

“Bozhe moy…” Natasha mutters under her breath, shaking her head lightly in exasperation.

Your brow quirks in amusement at her tone, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a curse word—just something someone would say when they’re surprised or frustrated,” Natasha says stiffly, her voice a little strained, though she manages to seem mostly composed.

Her eyes eventually betray her, though, drifting back to the droplets of water sliding down your skin. 

“So what’s the translation?” you press, crossing your arms at her vague response. The motion inadvertently shifts the towel, loosening it further.

Natasha’s jaw tightens. Her gaze flickers to the towel, and she exhales sharply through her nose, her control clearly fraying. 

Even though she looks like she’s about to close the distance between you, it’s clear she won’t answer your question, which makes your expression fall lightly into a mock disappointed pout.

“You said you’d help me improve my Russian during this mission,” you remind her, your tone innocently light as you step closer to stand in front of her. 

The memory of her promise lingers in your mind—how she’d caught you practicing in secret and insisted you ask her for help whenever you needed it.

Her lips twist in hesitation, probably also remembering her promise, and for a moment, it seems like she might resist.

But then she relents with a sigh. 

“It’s basically like saying ‘fuck,’” Natasha explains, her voice low and even. She fixes you with a pointed look, her gaze burning as she adds, “As in, you surprised me, standing half-naked in the middle of the room like this.” 

A laugh escapes you, though your cheeks warm at the intensity of her gaze. You move to hover a hand above her chest, tracing a finger lightly against the edge of her tank top.

“Were you surprised…or frustrated?” you ask, your tone full of mischief. 

Natasha shoots you a warning look, one that says you already know the answer.

“I don’t think learning Russian curse words was part of your original goal here,” she counters, her voice tight.

“Who says I haven’t learned some phrases already?” you reply with a playful shrug.

Her eyebrows lift, intrigued. “Like what?”

You shake your head, refusing to elaborate. “I’m still practicing my pronunciation.”

Natasha smirks, leaning closer. “I can help.”

The listening equipment chooses that moment to beep suddenly, interrupting your conversation, as it signals incoming noises.

“Too bad we’re still on the clock,” you quip with a teasing smile.

Natasha’s attention flickers reluctantly to the gear, her expression briefly clouded with disappointment.

You take the opportunity to head back to the bathroom and finish up.

As you go, a smirk tugs at your lips, the Russian phrase you’ve been practicing simmering in your mind.

Just as you step through the doorway, you hum thoughtfully, your voice low and deliberate as you mutter under your breath—just loud enough for Natasha to hear.

“How did it go again...trak-hni…menya…trakhni menya…”

You don’t need to turn around to know the effect your words have. Natasha’s sharp intake of breath is unmistakable, and your smirk widens in satisfaction. 

Behind you, Natasha freezes, her lips parting slightly, her entire body going still as she processes what you just said. The weight of your casual tone and the boldness of your phrasing leave her momentarily stunned.

By the time she regains her composure, you’ve already disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.

A low, disbelieving chuckle escapes her after a moment, followed by a quiet grumble as she mutters to herself, “Of all the times to be on a mission…” 

Natasha shakes her head and exhales, grabbing the earpiece with a resigned sigh.

Sliding it back on, she tries to focus on the task at hand, her eyes scanning the equipment as if sheer willpower could drown out her thoughts.

But her gaze betrays her, drifting back toward the bathroom door.

It lingers there, her resolve wavering as the temptation to follow you creeps in, tugging at her self-control.

Her mind conjures an image of you inside—water still clinging to your skin and your voice low and teasing as you repeat the Russian phrase for “fuck me” over and over again. 

The imagination is enough to make her swallow hard, her grip tightening on the table’s edge.

With a sharp, frustrated exhale, Natasha forces her attention back to the mission, her eyes narrowing as if determination alone could block the distractions. 

And she does succeed in regaining her composure eventually, though, every now and again, your voice echoes in her mind—soft, playful, and full of mischief.

Each syllable you murmured is as clear as if you were still standing there, taunting her with that dangerous smirk.

The corners of her lips twitch despite herself. 

You’ve always told her how much you love hearing her speak in Russian—how the sound of it stirs something in you. 

Natasha had always found your words amusing, but hearing you just now, with your hesitant yet deliberate tone, she’s beginning to understand exactly what you meant.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After dinner, Natasha takes it upon herself to continue monitoring the listening gear, insisting that you rest up first after the long trip here and the exhausting setup.

Her tone left little room for argument, so you relented, knowing how stubborn she could be about these things and the fact that she is more than capable of staying concentrated on the task for longer than you can.

Hours pass, the rhythmic static and indistinct chatter from the equipment blending into the quiet of the room.

Natasha barely notices how late it’s gotten until she feels your arms wrap gently around her shoulders from behind.

You lean in close, your warm breath brushing against the side of her head as you carefully remove her earpieces. 

“Poydem so mnoy spat’,” you whisper softly.

Natasha’s lips curve into a small, pleased smile at your perfect pronunciation. Turning to face you, she raises a brow, her expression amused.

“Did you learn that specifically for moments like this?” she teases.

You smirk back at her. 

“With how often you lose yourself in work, I figured learning how to call you to bed should be one of the first things I perfect.” 

Natasha shakes her head fondly, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. 

“Of course you would,” she murmurs, but there’s no mistaking the affection in her voice.

Obliging you, she removes the rest of the gear and allows you to pull her gently from the chair toward the large bed.

As she moves, her gaze flickers to the nightstand, catching sight of your tablet screen. The familiar display of the language-learning app you’ve been using to practice Russian glows faintly in the dim light.

Settling in beside her, you lie back against the pillows while Natasha props herself up on one elbow, her head resting on her hand. Her green eyes glimmer with a soft light as she looks at you, a small smile playing on her lips.

“You know,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “I’m sure I can teach you Russian better than that app.” 

Her comment makes you laugh lightly. 

“I know, but our free time doesn’t always line up for me to get a lesson from Ms. Romanoff,” you tease, smirking.

“It’s Mrs.,” Natasha corrects, her playful smirk matching yours. “Don’t forget, we’re technically married right now.”

You smile, your gaze softening as you look at her. 

“Right. How could I forget that you’re my ‘zhena?’”

The word slips out in a playful, teasing tone, but it has an unexpected effect.

Natasha’s heart flutters so much at hearing you call her your wife in Russian that she has to look away for a moment to regain her composure. 

Her expression is tender when she looks back at you, her other arm moving around your midsection and pulling you closer. 

“I have time now,” she offers, her voice low. “Anything you want to learn?”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your chin as you consider. 

“Alright, how do you say…‘you look beautiful?’”

Natasha’s smile widens slightly. 

“Ty vyglyadish’ prekrasno,” she replies smoothly.

You repeat the phrase under your breath, scrunching your face slightly in concentration as you practice. Once you’re confident enough, you turn to her with a gentle smile.

“Ty vy-glya-dish’ prekrasno,” you say, your pronunciation close but not perfect.

Natasha chuckles softly in amusement when she realizes you just wanted to say the phrase back to her. 

“Are you trying to make me fall for you even more by complimenting me in Russian?”  

You smirk playfully. “Depends. Is it working?”

Huffing lightly, Natasha rolls her eyes, though there’s a clear fondness in her exasperation. She looks away briefly, but you catch her cheek gently, turning her gaze back to yours.

“How do you say…‘I love you?’” you ask softly, your voice tinged with both curiosity and affection.

Natasha’s expression softens further, her features open and vulnerable as she answers. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she says, enunciating each syllable carefully for you. 

“Ya tebya lyu…blyu,” you repeat slowly, trying to mimic how her lips move, but the last syllable doesn’t quite land how it should.

Natasha chuckles lightly, her hand moving to cup your chin. 

“When you say ‘lyublyu,’” she explains gently, “you have to purse your lips more.”

You try again, adjusting your pronunciation, and then glance at her for confirmation. 

“Like that?” you ask innocently, unaware that you had said it perfectly, making Natasha’s heart beat a little faster at the sound of your voice saying those words to her in her native language. 

“Say it again,” Natasha murmurs, her voice soft. 

Focusing intently, you follow her previous instructions.

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

Just as you say the last sound, Natasha leans in suddenly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Your smile grows against her mouth as realization dawns that she made you repeat it for her benefit. 

“Mmm, you’re teasing me when you're supposed to be teaching me,” you murmur lightly in reprimand.

Natasha pulls back slightly, her green eyes glinting with playful mischief. 

“Maybe I just love the way you say it,” she counters, her tone low and warm. 

You huff lightly, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation before scooting closer.

Natasha relaxes fully into the bed, letting you rest your head on her shoulder and tuck your face into the curve of her neck. Her arms wrap around you, holding you in a soft embrace.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Natasha’s voice breaks through, gentle and curious. 

“What made you decide to learn Russian?”

There’s a brief pause as you consider her question, and then you tilt your head to look up at her, your eyes filled with affection. 

“Russian is a part of who you are, Natasha,” you say earnestly. “Where you came from. To learn another way to connect with you…” You trail off, your soft smile widening. “Who wouldn’t want to do that?”

Natasha’s heart swells at your words, and for a moment, all she can do is hold you closer, her fingers brushing lightly over your back.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she whispers, her voice barely audible but still filled with the depth of her feelings for you.

You settle back against her, smiling into her shoulder, your voice gentle as you reply.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: got distracted by a cute request and made another little fluff fic. thank you for reading! Now I'll get back to working on my series. 😅

Also here are the translations below:

“Bron' dlya Nataliyi Romanovoy.” - Reservation for Natalia Romanova.

“Dobro pozhalovat, gospazha Romanova. Vot vashi klyuchi ot nomera.” - Welcome, Mrs. Romanova. Here are your room keys.

“Esli vam ili vashey zhene potrebuyetsya pomoshch, pozvonite na resepshn, i my s radostyu vam pomozhem.” - If you or your wife need assistance, please call the front desk and we will be happy to assist you.

“Spasibo,” - Thank you

“Zhena,” - Wife

“Da, prosto ostav’te—blyat…” - Yes, just leave it—fuck...

“Prostite, Ostav’te yedu u dveri. Spasibo.” - Sorry, leave the food at the door. Thank you.

“Blyat” - fuck

“Bozhe moy…” - My god...

“...trak-hni…menya…trakhni menya…” - ..fuck...me...fuck me...

“Poydem so mnoy spat’,” - Come to bed with me

“Ty vyglyadish’ prekrasno,” - You look beautiful

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” - I love you