#natasha romanoff

[miss-carter]

natasha + tank top

[natsaffection]

Redline. (Bonus 3) | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), crash, blood, broken bone (detailed), panic attack

Word count: 8,1k

A/N: There’s no tissue emoji, so I’m just using this one instead: 🧻

The first rays of morning light spilled through the sleek, minimalist bedroom, painting the polished surfaces in soft hues of gold. Natasha was already awake, her gaze fixed on her laptop screen as her fingers danced over the keyboard. Notes, timings, strategies, all meticulously checked and double-checked, as she always did on race days. It was her ritual, her way of ensuring everything went flawlessly.

But even while immersed in her work, her eyes flickered toward the bed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. You were still tangled in the blankets, one arm flung over a pillow, your hair a beautiful mess against the white sheets. The peaceful rise and fall of your chest was one of Natasha’s favorite things to watch.

Natasha pushed away from her desk, stretching slightly before walking over to the bed. She perched on the edge, her fingers delicately sweeping a stray lock of hair from your cheek.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Natasha murmured, her voice a soft blend of fondness and amusement. “It’s almost time to get ready.”

A sleepy groan escaped your lips, your eyes squeezing shut tighter as if to keep the morning at bay. “Five more minutes…” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You say that every morning, and somehow it always ends up being twenty.”

You cracked open one eye, your lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Natasha quirked a brow. “If you don’t get up soon, you’ll be the one explaining to the fans why their favorite driver was late.”

That got your attention. Your eyes fluttered open fully, the warmth of sleep slowly giving way to the familiar rush of excitement. Today was another race, another chance to prove yourself, not only to the world but to yourself.

“Fine, fine, I’m up.” You sat up, rubbing your eyes before glancing at Natasha with a sleepy smile. “You’re already in boss mode, huh?”

“Someone has to keep you in line.” Natasha replied with a smirk, but the glint in her eyes was nothing but adoring. “Now, I made you coffee. It’s waiting in the kitchen. I’ll get your things ready.”

“Have I mentioned you’re amazing?” You stretched your arms above your head, the early morning light catching your features in a way that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat.

“Once or twice.” Natasha’s voice softened, her hand resting on your shoulder. “But I like hearing it.”

You reached up and captured Natasha’s hand, bringing it to your lips for a gentle kiss. “Well, you are. Absolutely amazing.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed, but her composure never wavered. “And you’re a dork. Now, get moving. We have a race to win.”

Within thirty minutes, you were showered, dressed, and already buzzing with pre-race energy. Natasha was all precision and efficiency, double-checking every little detail before you left.

The drive to the racetrack was relaxed, filled with quiet conversation and the comfortable silence that only comes from years of understanding. Your fingers laced through Natasha’s as she drove with her usual cool confidence, the city blurring past the windows.

“Ready to meet your fans?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways at you.

A grin spread across your face. “Always.”

The moment you arrived at the paddock, you could hear the hum of excitement from the fans gathered just beyond the barriers. As you stepped out of the car, the familiar chants of your name echoed through the air.

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!”

You beamed, your nerves melting away under the warmth of the crowd’s enthusiasm. Natasha watched from a few steps behind, arms crossed, her expression softening as she saw you stop to sign autographs, exchange kind words, and take selfies with your adoring fans.

Natasha joined you by the barrier. A few fans squealed, not just for the famous driver but for the woman standing at your side.

“Alright, alright.” Natasha said with a half-smirk, “You’ve had your fun. Let’s get you to the garage before you start signing every piece of merchandise in this city.”

You laughed, but Natasha could see the energy it gave you. You were glowing. And today, Natasha would do everything to make sure your star kept shining.

The energy in the paddock was electric, the kind of buzz that seeped into your veins and made you feel alive. Natasha guided you through the usual pre-race routine like clockwork, her presence as steady as ever. But there was a warmth to her efficiency that only you could feel. A care threaded between every checklist and instruction.

As you made your way to the garage, you glanced over at Natasha, your fingers twitching slightly with pre-race nerves. Natasha caught the movement instantly. “Cold feet?” she asked, one eyebrow arching in concern.

“Just the good kind of nerves..” you replied, offering a crooked smile. “The ‘I’m ready to crush this’ kind.”

“Good.” Natasha nodded, her eyes scanning the garage as you entered. Technicians hustled around you, final checks and adjustments happening in a blur of motion.

The minutes ticked by as you completed your pre-race rituals, your muscles thrumming with the familiar cocktail of nerves and excitement. As the call came for drivers to take their places, Natasha walked alongside you to the car.

You slid into the driver’s seat, your hands instinctively reaching for the steering wheel as you settled in. Natasha leaned over the side of the car, her gaze locking with yours. “Remember, no heroics. Just smooth and clean. You’ve got this.”

“Got it, boss.” You winked, your cheeky grin making Natasha roll her eyes, though her expression softened with pride.

The engines roared to life all around you, but your focus remained on Natasha until the last possible moment, the warmth of her touch lingering long after she stepped away.

The race began with a thunderous surge of power, tires squealing against the track as you pushed your car to its limits.

The race was going perfectly. Almost too perfectly. Your grip on the steering wheel was firm but relaxed, your breathing steady, your focus unshakable. The crowd’s roar was a distant echo, dulled by the padded embrace of your helmet. Lap after lap, the world narrowed to nothing but the track before you and Natasha’s calm, measured voice in your ear.

“Just a few more laps, Y/n. You’re holding the lead beautifully.” Natasha praised, her tone laced with that signature coolness but layered with something deeper. Pride. Relief. Love.

You grinned despite yourself, eyes flickering briefly to the rearview mirror. The pack was behind you, clawing at your shadow, but your speed was unmatchable today. You were flying.

Then, out of nowhere, chaos erupted. A sharp, metallic scream tore through your headset, the sound of metal against metal. Tires shrieking. Engines spluttering into desperate, dying growls.

“Car pileup! Sector 3! Repeat, multiple cars down!” The voice from Race Control was pure panic, barely able to keep its terror in check.

Your stomach twisted. Your eyes snapped to the bend ahead. It was supposed to be an easy maneuver, just a clean sweep around the corner before the long straight. But the corner wasn’t clear.

Smoke billowed, thick and acrid, curling into the sky like dark fingers clawing upward. Amidst the haze, the glint of wreckage shone with a wicked brightness, metal torn and twisted like paper. Two cars tangled together, blocking the track almost completely.

“Oh, shit…” Your voice came out cracked and trembling, your foot already slamming on the brakes. But there was no time.

No way to avoid it.

“Y/n, slow down! Pull to the left!” Natasha’s voice cut through your ear, sharp and desperate, the cool edge of her usual calm utterly shattered. “Y/n, now!”

You tried. God, you tried. The wheel jerked beneath your hands as you swerved left, but another car had already collided with the wreckage, spinning out of control and slamming into your side. The crash happened so fast, it was nothing more than a nightmare stitched from metal and fire.

The sound of steel shrieking against steel filled your ears, your body thrown forward as your car skidded violently against another. Pain flared across your ribs, your shoulder slamming into the frame, your head knocking against the padded helmet hard enough to leave your vision blurred.

Then, just darkness.

The crash happened so fast, it was nothing more than a nightmare stitched from metal and fire. Meanwhile, in the control room, Natasha was frozen. Her fingers dug into the edge of the console, knuckles white, her eyes glued to the live feed that displayed nothing but a burning mess of wreckage and smoke.

Around her, the other team managers were reacting, shouting commands, issuing urgent instructions, some already sprinting toward the exit. But Natasha couldn’t move. She was locked in place by the overwhelming dread that had wrapped itself around her like ice.

“Romanoff! What the hell are you doing just standing there? Move!” A voice snapped her out of the icy paralysis gripping her. A hand on her shoulder was rough, shaking her out of her trance. She could barely see him through the haze of panic clouding her vision, but his eyes were sharp and urgent.

“I-” Natasha choked on her words, her voice cracking. Her mind was torn between the control room’s blinking screens and the burning wreckage outside.

“She’s out there..” she rasped, her voice thick and guttural.

“I know.” The men replied, his jaw clenched. “And so is my driver. We’re going to find them. Now, get in the damn car.”

Natasha barely registered the way Daniel’s fingers curled around her arm, dragging her toward the emergency exit. The world around her was a blur of frantic shouts and blaring alarms. All she could hear was the faint, distorted echo of your last words over the headset.

She felt like she was choking. The memory of your grin, your careless confidence, your unwavering faith in her guidance, all of it tore through her with the cruelty of broken glass.

They reached Daniel’s car, the bright red vehicle roaring to life the moment he turned the key. Natasha threw herself into the passenger seat, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

“Buckle up.” He snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. But Natasha barely heard him. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, each one worse than the last.

What if it’s worse this time? What if your car is nothing but wreckage, your body broken beyond recognition? She swallowed thickly, her nails digging into her own palms until pain flared in her hands. “Drive faster..”

“I’m going as fast as I can without crashing us both..” He shot back, his eyes locked on the road as the car shot down the access lane toward the accident site.

The air between them was electric with urgency, the silence filled with the muffled rumble of engines and the distant screams of the crowd. The crash had spread like wildfire, multiple cars caught in the violent mess of twisted metal and scorched asphalt.

“Natasha.” Daniel’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. His eyes flicked toward her, his own panic tightly controlled, channeled into cold determination. “We’ll find them. Y/ns strong. She’s a fighter. You of all people should know that.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the problem.” she whispered. “She’s been fighting her whole damn life. And if it’s bad this time…if it’s worse…”

The wreckages came into view, a horrifying sprawl of debris and smoke. Cars were scattered across the track, crumpled like toys thrown aside by an angry child. Marshals were already swarming the area, trying to contain the chaos, but there was nothing contained about the devastation before them.

Daniel slammed the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. The instant they stopped, Natasha was out of the passenger seat, her feet pounding against the asphalt as she ran toward the destruction.

They split up, their desperation spurring them in opposite directions, both of them scanning the wreckage with feverish intensity.

The smoke was thick, burning her throat, her lungs. She stumbled over a shattered piece of debris, her legs threatening to buckle under her. But she kept going. Because she couldn’t stop. Because you were out here. And Natasha was not going to leave you alone.

Her voice tore from her throat as she called out, her screams swallowed by the chaos around her. Her eyes scanned the mess of broken vehicles and frantic medics, her throat raw from shouting your name. The world was a blur of flashing lights, shouting officials, and the terrifying echo of her own heartbeat.

And then, through the haze of smoke, she saw it. Your car. It was half-crushed against another, the nose twisted, panels ripped apart like some brutal sculpture. But even more incredible was what Natasha saw beside it.

You.

Natasha’s breath seized in her throat as she saw the way your body sagged between the medics’ arms, your head lolling forward like you could barely hold it up. The paramedics were lowering you carefully to the ground, their words a mess of urgent commands and rehearsed reassurances.

She was at your side in an instant, her knees almost buckling with sheer relief and terror all tangled together. “Y/n. Hey. I’m here. I’m right here..”

Your eyes flickered open at the sound of her voice, dazed and unfocused. The dark glass of your helmet’s visor was cracked, splintered lines running through the surface like spiderwebs.

“Natasha..?” Your voice was barely a whisper, your lips chapped and trembling.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here. You’re okay..” Natasha said, her voice tight and trembling. Her hand wrapped around your gloved fingers, gripping them like a lifeline.

The medics were already circling like vultures, one of them barking orders into a radio while the other started running through the protocol.

“We need to get her helmet off, check her breathing. Possible concussion. Someone get the stretcher ready!”

Natasha’s fingers tightened around your hand, her gaze locked on your face. “Stay with me, okay? You’re doing great. Just stay with me..”

The medic nearest to you was speaking calmly, his gloved hands gentle as he reached for your helmet. “Y/n, I need to take this off, okay? It’s going to hurt a bit, but you’ll be able to breathe better. Just stay still.”

You nodded, though the motion was clumsy, your head barely moving. “’Kay…Just…just don’t leave..” you slurred, your gaze sliding to Natasha’s face with a desperation that nearly broke her.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha promised, her voice hoarse. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

The helmet came off with a sickening scrape of broken metal against skin. Natasha’s breath hitched as her eyes caught the glistening trail of blood running down your face from a vicious gash torn across your eyebrow. The cut was deep, the blood so dark it looked black against your skin.

Natasha’s gasp was almost a sob. “Oh God… Y/n…”

But your gaze was unfocused, your breathing shallow. “I…I’m fine. Just…just a little dizzy..”

The medic’s gloved hands were already pressing gently against your head, checking for fractures, murmuring reassurances you couldn’t hear. Natasha’s eyes traced every drop of blood, every twitch of pain on your face.

“Y/n, I need you to try and stay awake, alright?” the medic continued, his tone calm and firm. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Your voice was sluggish, your words slurred. “Uh…Head…and…foot. Really hurts..”

The medic’s eyes dropped to your leg, and Natasha followed his gaze. Then her stomach dropped to the ground.

Your right foot was twisted at a sickening angle, the racing boot visibly swollen. But worse than that, the thing that almost made Natasha vomit, was the jagged, broken bone protruding just above your ankle, blood pooling against the fabric.

“O-Oh God..” Natasha whispered, her voice barely more than a strangled breath. Her hand squeezed yours so tight she feared she’d break something.

“Dammit, we need to get her stabilized.” the medic barked, his voice now laced with something that sounded far too much like fear. “Get the stretcher over here, now!”

Your head was already turning, your glassy eyes trying to make sense of the panic around you.

“W-What’s… going on?” you slurred, your gaze starting to drop downward, toward the carnage of your own leg.

“Hey, hey.” Natasha’s voice was sharp, her free hand reaching to cup your face, gently turning your head back to meet her eyes. “Look at me. Just look at me, okay? Everything’s fine.”

“But…my foot…” your brows furrowed, your voice fractured by pain and confusion.

“It’s fine.” Natasha lied, her own voice shaking. “You’re going to be fine. Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t look down.”

The stretcher arrived, more hands pressing around you, securing your neck, your broken leg. Natasha hated the way they moved you, the way your face twisted in agony, the little gasps of pain you couldn’t quite suppress.

But even through the horror, your fingers clung to hers, your grip as tight as you could manage.

“N-Nat…?”

“I’m here.” Natasha’s voice was firm now, as solid as steel. “I’m not leaving you. Not for a second.”

They loaded you onto the stretcher, the medics shouting orders Natasha barely registered. Everything was a blur, but her gaze never left your face.

“Talk to her.” one of the medics said to Natasha, his tone harsh with urgency. “Keep her awake. We can’t risk her passing out before we assess the damage.”

“Y/n, sweetheart, listen to me.” Natasha said, her own panic buried deep beneath the surface of her voice. “You’re going to be okay. You’re too damn stubborn not to be, right?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a shuddering gasp. “Y-Yeah…stubborn…that’s me…”

“Damn right.” Natasha’s thumb traced over your knuckles, her own hands slick with blood. “You’re not leaving me, you hear me? You’re staying right here with me.”

“’M not… leaving…” your words were fading, your eyelids drooping as shock and pain clawed away at your consciousness.

Natasha felt her own breathing hitch, her voice breaking. “Good. That’s good..”

As the medics lifted the stretcher and began moving it toward the waiting ambulance, Natasha followed, her hand locked around yours like a lifeline.

Minutes later, the ambulance tore through the streets like it was chasing time itself, sirens wailing into the sky, the city blurring into light and sound. Inside, Natasha sat wedged against the wall, one hand gripping the steel bar, the other never leaving yours.

Your eyes fluttered, trying and failing to stay open. Your skin had gone an ashen shade beneath the streaks of blood, your chest rising and falling in shallow, unsteady rhythm. Every time the medic adjusted your leg, you whimpered, barely a sound, but one that carved itself deep into Natasha’s chest like a knife.

“You’re okay.” Natasha whispered over and over, her voice cracking around the edges. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment they reached the emergency bay, the ambulance doors burst open. Lights flooded in, followed by the blur of movement , gurney wheels on concrete, shouting voices, cold air rushing through the gap before the building swallowed them whole.

“Female, 23, compound fracture to the right foot, deep laceration above the right eye, suspected concussion.” the paramedic rattled off as they passed the threshold of the hospital.

A woman stepped forward, tall, composed, sharp eyes framed by silvering curls tucked behind her ears.

“Get her into Room Five-” she ordered, but the moment her eyes fell on Natasha, her entire posture shifted. Her brows lifted slightly, the recognition instant.

“Get the VIP trauma room prepped now. Clear the hallway. Tell imaging to stand by.”

Natasha stayed right at your side as the gurney wheeled through wide corridors, glass doors flying open before them like water parting.

“Vitals are unstable.” one of the medics said. “BP’s dropping.”

Inside the trauma room, the chaos turned clinical. Machines hummed to life, IVs were connected, and gloves snapped into place.

The nurse stepped up beside and leaned over you with practiced precision. “My name is Helen. I’m going to check you, okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”

You blinked slowly, your gaze unfocused. “Mhmm…”

“Good. Stay with me.” Helen reached up and shone a penlight into your eyes. “Natasha, any known allergies?”

“No. No allergies..”

Helen nodded quickly. “What’s your full name?”

Your lips moved, the sound faint. “Y/n…L/n.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“’M…I was racing…”

“She’s lucid but foggy.” Helen muttered. “Pupils are sluggish. Concussion confirmed.” She gently wiped away blood from your temple, exposing the deep gash beneath. “We’ll stitch this after scans.”

Then a second nurse moved to the foot of the bed, starting to unwrap the temporary support on your leg. The second she shifted it, you jolted violently, a strangled cry escaping your throat.

“Careful!” Natasha snapped, stepping forward, her own panic flaring. “Her foot-”

The nurse paused, her expression grim. “Confirmed compound fracture. Bone’s fully through.”

“Prep for OR.” Helen said calmly.

But that calm shattered the second the word OR hit your ears. Your chest hitched. Your eyes widened. And just like that, the panic flooded in.

“No. No-no no no!” Your voice cracked as your hands reached for anything, the rail, the blanket, Natasha. “Not surgery, not again, please don’t- don’t-”

“She’s panicking..” Helen said immediately, eyes darting to the vitals monitor. The heart rate was skyrocketing.

Natasha, cupping your face. “It’s okay! It’s just a bone, baby. Bones heal, you hear me?”

“It is-” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “It’s happening again..I’m gonna be stuck- I won’t”

“You can, and you will, you hear me?” Natasha said, forcing her voice to be stronger than the tremble in her own heart. “It’s not your spine. It’s not your nerves. It’s one damn bone..”

You were trembling, head jerking side to side as if trying to run from the memory crawling up from your past.

“She has trauma from her last crash..” Natasha said, looking up at Helen. Helen’s jaw clenched, then her expression shifted. “Alright. I’ve got her.” She turned to the nurse by your feet. “Touch her toes.”

The nurse blinked. “What?”

“Touch her toes.” Helen repeated. “Y/n?” She turned back to you, voice soft now. “Can you feel this?”

The nurse pressed gently along the top of your foot, just above the exposed break.

You gasped but nodded. “Y-Yeah…I feel it..”

Helen leaned in, voice low and firm. “That means your nerves are fine. You’re not paralyzed. Your body’s okay. The surgery is to fix something fixable. We are not going to let this become what it was last time.”

Natasha watched as the words landed, saw the slow, shaky exhale leave your lungs. Your hand, still clinging to Natasha’s, loosened just slightly.

Helen stood, her eyes flicking over the vitals. The panic was still too high, pulse, blood pressure, breathing all elevated. Too dangerous for surgery in that state. She turned to Natasha quietly.

“She’s too wound up to go in like this.” Helen said under her breath. “We’re putting her under now. I’ll make the call.”

She gave a small nod to a nearby nurse, a younger man already prepping the IV line. He moved with practiced hands, drawing a small vial from his tray and inserting it into the port.

“It’s going to hit fast.” Helen said. Natasha knelt beside you again, brushing damp hair away from your pale forehead. “Hey, baby. They’re going to give you something to help you sleep now, okay? Just sleep. That’s all.”

You blinked slowly, tears still welling in your lashes. “You’ll be there…when I wake up?”

“I’ll be the first face you see.” Natasha whispered, kissing your temple. “I swear to you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The nurse pushed the medication in, and within seconds, your body began to still. Your breathing evened out slightly, your trembling stopped. Your eyes fluttered. “I love you…” you murmured, barely audible.

Natasha’s throat closed up. “I love you more.”

And then your eyes slipped shut. The panic was gone. Replaced by a terrifying, aching silence. Helen gave Natasha a nod. “You did good. Now let us take care of her.”

The stretcher rolled out, the surgical team falling into step. Natasha followed them to the doors of the OR, only stopping when Helen placed a firm hand on her arm.

“She’s in good hands now.” she said gently. “But you need to breathe. Sit. And wait. And when she wakes up, she’s going to need you.”

Natasha stood frozen as the doors swung closed. The surgical wing was too quiet. Too white. Too sterile. Too full of time that refused to move.

Natasha sat down on a hospital bench just outside the OR, elbows on her knees, fingers tangled in her hair. The double doors to the OR stayed shut, a glowing IN USE light above them. Mocking her.

She had tried to sit still. To breathe. But her leg was bouncing uncontrollably, and every minute that ticked by felt like someone carving another line into her spine. The guilt was crawling up her throat like bile. I promised her I’d protect her. She trusted me with everything.

“Natasha.”

She flinched, eyes snapping up. Yelena stood in front of her, pale and tight-jawed, still in her coat like she’d run straight from her apartment the moment she heard.

“You okay?” Yelena asked softly.

Natasha scoffed, a bitter sound. “She’s in there with a fucking broken foot and a head wound, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

Yelena didn’t respond immediately. She just sat down beside her, shoulder brushing Natasha’s, grounding her like an anchor in a storm. Natasha swallowed hard. “It’s my fault.”

“No.” Yelena said firmly. “No, it’s not.”

“I put her back in the car! After everything she went through. After that crash. After her body was wrecked the first time. I pushed her. Because I missed the racer in her.” Her voice cracked. “Because I wanted to win..”

Yelena looked at her, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t force her to drive, Natasha. You believed in her when no one else did. That’s why she came back.”

Natasha looked away, lips pressed into a line. “And now she’s bleeding in an OR again. Screaming. Panicking. Because all I ever do is bring her back to the pain.”

There was a pause. Then Yelena sighed and dug into her coat pocket.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you yet..” she muttered, pulling out her phone. “But…they’re waiting for news. I called them.”

Natasha blinked. “Who?”

Yelena’s lips pressed together. “Her parents. They’re on the line.”

Silence. It was a full second before the weight of the words hit her like a wrecking ball. Natasha’s body went stiff. Her fingers curled in her lap. Her breath froze in her lungs.

Your parents.

“Oh god..” she whispered. “Yelena, what the hell am I supposed to say to them?”

Yelena’s voice softened. “You tell them the truth.”

“No. I- I can’t! I told them I’d keep her safe. I promised them..” Natasha’s voice cracked, her hands shaking again. “They trusted me. After the last time? They didn’t even want her back on the track. I had to fight for her, with them. And now she’s in a damn OR again and I—”

“Natasha.” Yelena turned to her, firm now. “They’re scared out of their minds. They need to hear from the one person Y/n trusts most.”

Natasha looked at the phone in Yelena’s hand like it was a bomb.

“She’s their daughter.”

“And she’s your everything.” Yelena said quietly. “So breathe. And talk to them.”

Natasha reached out with a trembling hand and took the phone. “Hi. This is… this is Natasha.” Her voice was hoarse.

There was a pause on the other end, and then a voice. Soft. Tight with worry. Your mother.

“Where is she? Is she okay? What happened? Natasha, w-what happened to our daughter? P-Please don’t say-”

Natasha’s throat closed up. Her free hand gripped the edge of the bench like she needed to hold on to reality. She tried to answer, but nothing came out at first. Not a word.

Then finally, broken and quiet, she whispered:

“I’m so sorry.”

Natasha’s hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, her voice cracking with every word.

“Yes. She’s in surgery..”

Pause. Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes. A broken foot. And a concussion.”

Her gaze kept flicking toward the double doors of the OR, her eyes raw and burning from the unrelenting tears she refused to fully shed. The sterile lights above buzzed with cold indifference.

“She’s alive. The doctors..They’re doing everything they can.”

Her fingers clenched tighter around the phone, knuckles white.

“I-I’ll call you back when I know more, okay? I promise.” She clicked off, the phone slipping from her grip and landing heavily on the floor.

Yelena bent down, picking it up, her own expression unreadable. “I’ll let them know when she’s awake.”

“Thanks..”Natasha rasped. Her voice was shredded, hollow. Her entire body trembled with the effort of holding herself together.

Minutes turned to hours. The cold, merciless kind of waiting where every passing second felt like a punishment. Natasha’s mind kept churning over every horrific possibility. What if the concussion was worse than they thought? What if her leg was so damaged she could never drive again? What if she woke up and decided Natasha had pushed her too far this time? What if she never woke up?

The doors finally swung open with a soft whoosh. Natasha shot to her feet so fast her vision spun. A doctor stepped out, flanked by Helen. Both of them wore weary but steady expressions. Natasha’s stomach twisted. Her nails dug into her palms.

“Miss Romanoff?” the doctor began. His voice was calm, measured. She hated how clinical he sounded.

“Yes. I’m-” Her voice cracked, too sharp, too desperate. “Is she…is she okay?”

“The surgery went smoothly.” the doctor continued. “The bone was successfully reset and secured. The nerve function in her leg is undamaged, which means with proper rest and rehab, she will make a full recovery.”

The words crashed over Natasha like a tidal wave. A violent rush of relief so strong her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

“S-She’s okay?” Natasha breathed, her voice trembling.

“She’s stable.” the doctor confirmed, his gaze sympathetic now. “We’re moving her to recovery. She’ll be groggy when she wakes up, but she’s going to be fine.”

The tears Natasha had been holding back finally broke free, spilling down her cheeks unchecked. Her shoulders shook, her breathing turning into something ragged and uncontrollable.

“Thank you. Oh God, thank you…” Her hands flew to her face, trying and failing to hide the ugly sob that tore its way out of her throat.

Helen reached out and squeezed Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure no one bothers her while she recovers. I’ve already spoken to security. No paparazzi, no press. And if anyone tries, they’ll have to get through me.”

A wet, broken laugh slipped from Natasha’s lips. “Thank you. You don’t know…you don’t know how much this means.”

Helen’s smile was brief but genuine. “They’ll be bringing her out in a few minutes. She’s going to need rest, but you can be there when she wakes up.”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion. But beneath it, there was hope. Raw and fragile, but alive. She glanced over at Yelena, who had been standing just outside the doctor’s conversation, arms folded tightly across her chest. Their eyes met, and Yelena gave a short nod.

“See? She’s tough as hell.” Yelena said, her voice rough with emotion she wasn’t about to admit. “Just like you.”

Natasha didn’t have words. She just nodded.

When Helen patted her shoulder one last time and turned to leave, Natasha couldn’t help herself. She reached out and threw her arms around the nurse.

Helen stiffened, caught off guard, but only for a moment. Then her arms wrapped around Natasha, gentle and reassuring.

“She’s going to be fine.” Helen whispered, her voice low and steady. “And so are you.”

Natasha pulled back, wiping furiously at her eyes. “I just…thank you. Thank you for everything.”

The walls were a soft cream, the blinds drawn to shield from the press of evening light. The private VIP suite was spacious, silent, and most importantly: protected. No noise. No reporters. No cameras.

Just Natasha.

She sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on her knees, fingers curled into her palms. Her heart still hadn’t stopped racing. The image of you, limp and bloodied on that stretcher, still looped in her mind like a cruel replay she couldn’t turn off.

Now, you lay before her. Wrapped in white hospital blankets, hooked up to monitors, your head gently bandaged. Your leg was elevated and braced in a temporary cast.

But you were breathing.

Natasha didn’t take her eyes off you for a second. A soft beep from the monitor spiked, just slightly. And then a subtle twitch in your fingers.

Natasha shot up from the chair, her heart lurching. “Y/n?” she whispered, stepping closer.

Another twitch, your head shifted faintly, your lips parting as your brows drew together in faint discomfort.

“Hey..” Natasha said softly, her fingers brushing your hand. Your eyes blinked open, slow, uneven. Cloudy from anesthesia. Your gaze was unfocused at first, drifting past Natasha like you weren’t really seeing her.

“Where…?” Your voice was raspy, so soft it was almost inaudible.

“You’re in the hospital..” Natasha murmured, her thumb stroking gently across the back of your hand. “You were in a crash. But you’re okay. You’re out of surgery. You’re safe now.”

You blinked again, your pupils beginning to center, focus returning in slow, heavy waves. You winced, your free hand moving slightly toward your head.

“Easy.” Natasha said quickly, gently taking your wrist. “You’ve got a concussion, and a cut above your eye. But you’re stable. They stitched you up.”

You blinked, your breathing beginning to pick up as awareness started setting in. “My leg…”

“It’s just broken.” Natasha said softly. “But the bone’s set. They fixed it in surgery. The nerves are intact, full feeling. You’re going to walk. Drive. Everything.”

There was a beat of silence, and then your eyes finally locked onto hers , really saw her. And the tears welled almost instantly.

Your fingers tightened weakly around hers. “You didn’t leave..”

“Never.” Natasha breathed. “I held your hand through the whole thing. And I’ll be right here for every step of what’s next.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes beginning to close again. “You’re warm…”

Natasha smiled gently, brushing the hair back from your bandaged brow. “That’s the morphine talking, baby..”

A small, dopey grin formed on your lips. “Good… I don’t wanna feel anything right now.”

“You don’t have to.” Natasha murmured. “You just sleep. I’ve got you.”

You blinked once more, and then slipped back into sleep, but this time, it was peaceful.

Natasha sat back down, still holding your hand. She wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.

The early morning sunlight seeped through the blinds, a soft glow painting the hospital room in warm hues. It was quiet. Peaceful. Almost enough to trick Natasha into believing the nightmare was over.

Almost.

She hadn’t slept. Not really. She’d spent the night in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside your bed, her legs curled up, one hand still clutching yours like a lifeline. Every time you so much as twitched, Natasha’s eyes would snap open, her pulse spiking until the monitor’s steady beeping reassured her you were still okay.

But now, in the calm glow of morning, your eyes fluttered open again. Slowly. Blinking groggily against the light.

“Nat…?” Your voice was raspy, hoarse from disuse and the effects of anesthesia.

Natasha sat up straight, fingers lacing through yours. “I’m here.”

Your gaze slowly focused, your lips twitching into a weak, lopsided smile. “Still here…”

“Always.” Natasha said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck..” Your brow furrowed, your hand drifting toward the bandage on your forehead. “My head feels… foggy.”

“You had a concussion.” Natasha explained, her thumb tracing calming circles on your palm. “You might feel a little fuzzy for a while.”

You nodded, your gaze sliding down the length of your body until it landed on your elevated leg. The bulky cast was awkward and ugly, but Natasha had never been so relieved to see something so damn unappealing.

“Leg’s broken?” you asked, your voice too casual, like you were trying to make the truth sound less real.

“Yeah.” Natasha’s voice was gentle. “Clean break, though. They fixed it up good. The nerves are fine. You’ll be walking in no time.”

You swallowed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “So…not like last time?”

“Not like last time.” Natasha reassured, her voice steady and strong. “This one’s just a bone. It’ll heal.”

Your eyes glossed over with relief, the shaky exhale escaping your lips almost like a sob. “I really thought…I thought it was all happening again.”

Natasha’s chest tightened. “I know. And you pushed through it. You’re…You’re so damn brave.”

Your fingers tightened around hers. “I was a mess. Crying, panicking…that’s not brave..”

“Want me to argue?” Natasha’s voice cracked with a teary smile. “Because I will. And I’ll win.”

A half-laugh, half-sob slipped from your lips. “God, you’re stubborn.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Their fingers stayed entwined, the silence between them comfortable for a few precious moments. Natasha watched the way your breathing evened out, your expression softening into something like peace.

But before she could fully relax, the door creaked open. Natasha’s head snapped up, eyes blazing with protective wariness.

Yelena stepped in, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp as always. But she wasn’t alone.

Behind her were two familiar faces. Your parents. Natasha’s stomach clenched, guilt and terror slicing through her chest like a knife. But their eyes weren’t on her. They were on you.

“Y/n?” your mother’s voice cracked, the sound ragged with emotion.

Your eyes widened. “Mom? Dad?”

And then the tears came. From all of you. Natasha started to pull back, to give them space, but your hand tightened around hers, refusing to let her go.

But her gaze drifted to your parents, waiting for them to tell her off. To say this was her fault. That she’d broken you all over again. But instead, your mother walked over, reached out, and hugged Natasha. “Thank you…for being here for her.”

Natasha nearly collapsed from the sheer relief that tore through her. She glanced at Yelena, who gave her a subtle nod of approval. And somehow, that made the world seem just a little bit safer.

Your parents stayed for a while, their voices a soft blur of relief and love as they hugged you, whispered words of comfort, made promises of being there every step of your recovery. Natasha mostly stayed quiet, her fingers still wrapped around yours, never letting go.

Eventually, they slipped out for a much-needed break, some coffee, air, anything to relieve the ache of hours spent in panic. Yelena went with them, promising Natasha a few minutes alone with you.

Now, the room was quiet again. And your eyes found Natasha’s, searching for something unspoken.

“Everyone’s okay, right?” you asked, your voice still rough but stronger now. “The other drivers? From the crash?”

Natasha hesitated for a split second. “Yeah. Everyone made it out. Some got pretty banged up, broken ribs, concussions. But no deaths. They’re all alive.”

You let out a slow, shaky breath. “Thank God. That crash was…”

“Horrific.” Natasha finished for you, her gaze dropping to your hand in hers. “I saw it happen on the monitors. It was like…like a nightmare.”

“It was..” you admitted, your expression darkening. “Everything just…closed in. There was nowhere to go. Just metal and fire.”

Natasha’s thumb traced over your knuckles. “And you still fought your way out. You’re stronger than you think.”

“Not strong enough to keep my cool.” You laughed bitterly, your gaze slipping away. “I was a total wreck. If you hadn’t been there to talk me down, I don’t think I would’ve—”

“Stop.” Natasha’s voice was firm, cutting through the doubt like a knife. “You did everything right. You survived. You held on. And you’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Your eyes softened. “And you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A soft knock on the door pulled their attention. It swung open to reveal Helen, clipboard in hand, her expression calm but focused.

“Mind if I do a quick check-up?” Helen asked, her voice gentle. “I just need to make sure everything’s looking good.”

“Yeah, sure..” you mumbled, offering a weak smile.

Helen stepped in, eyes flicking between you and Natasha with that same warm but professional gaze. “Nice to see you looking a little less like roadkill.”

“That’s a real compliment right there..” you replied with a ghost of a grin.

“Hey, in here? That’s high praise.” Helen approached the bed, her eyes scanning the monitors before she leaned over to inspect the bandage on your forehead. “How’s your head feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea?”

“Uh…a little dizzy, but nothing terrible. Just… fuzzy.”

“That’s expected.” Helen said, her fingers carefully pressing around the bandage, checking for swelling. “The cut’s clean and stitched up well. We’ll keep an eye on the concussion, but I think you’re already doing better than most would.”

You managed a wry smile. “I guess I’m not most.”

Helen’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “No, you’re definitely not.”

She continued her examination, clicking her pen against her clipboard before moving toward your elevated leg. Her fingers traced gently along the edges of the cast, checking the exposed skin for circulation.

“Any pain? Tingling? Numbness?” Helen asked, all business now.

“Pain, yeah..” you admitted, your fingers twitching against Natasha’s hand. “But no tingling. I can…I can feel everything. Well, as much as you’d expect, I guess.”

“That’s excellent.” Helen nodded, glancing at the monitors again. “The break was nasty, but they did a damn good job putting you back together. You’ll be out of here sooner than you think.”

Your shoulders relaxed visibly. Natasha felt the tension drain out of her too, her chest loosening with every word Helen spoke.

“So…I’m not gonna be stuck in a bed for months again?” your voice was small, laced with a vulnerability that made Natasha’s heart twist.

Helen’s gaze softened. “No. You’re not. You’re going to heal. And once you’ve done the proper rehab, you’ll be walking again. Racing again, if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes flickered to Natasha’s, an unspoken question hanging between you. Natasha nodded, her grip tightening. “You’ve got this. And I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Helen straightened, tapping her clipboard lightly. “I’ll come back in a few hours for another check. Just get some rest and, for God’s sake, take it easy.”

You smirked, though your eyes still brimmed with exhaustion. “Yes, ma’am.”

Helen headed for the door but paused, looking back at Natasha. “And you. You should rest, too. You look worse than your patient.”

Natasha managed a shaky smile. “Not leaving her.”

“I figured.” Helen said, her own smile gentle. “But the offer stands.” With that, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving you and Natasha alone once more.

Hours later, Natasha’s legs felt heavier than concrete as she wandered through the hospital corridors. The bright lights, sterile air, and endless sea of white walls were all starting to blur together. But she needed to do something other than just sit by your bed and replay every horrific second of the crash over and over.

So she’d gone to fetch food. Something decent, not the bland garbage most hospitals served. Because you deserved better. Always.

The cafeteria was practically empty, just a few staff members drifting like ghosts through the aisles. Natasha grabbed a couple of pre-packaged sandwiches, bottled water, and fruit cups. Nothing glamorous, but it would do.

The walk back to your room was shorter than she expected, but when she turned the corner to the private suite, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Two interns were standing just outside the door, talking in low, excited voices. “Holy shit. That’s really her. Y/n. The Y/n.” The first one whispered, his voice barely restrained from outright squealing.

“I know, right?” The second intern shook her head, eyes practically sparkling. “She’s, like, legendary. After that last accident years ago? And then her comeback? It’s insane. And now she survived this? She’s got to be superhuman or something.”

“I would kill for a chance to talk to her. Even just an autograph.”

“Forget an autograph. Just seeing her — that’s like…damn. It’s like meeting a god.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed, gaze locking onto the interns like a hawk zeroing in on prey. She took a slow, deliberate step forward.

The interns saw her. And the joy drained from their faces like someone had flicked a switch.

“OO-h..” the male intern whispered, his eyes widening in terror. “That’s Natasha Romanoff…”

“No freaking way…” the girl muttered, her voice trembling.

Natasha’s eyes burned as she approached them. The sandwiches and drinks felt like dead weight in her hands. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. The look on her face was enough.

The interns immediately stammered out awkward apologies and practically sprinted down the hallway. Natasha’s gaze followed them until they disappeared around the corner. Only then did she let herself breathe.

She hated it. How the vultures were already circling. How they saw your pain as some kind of heroic legend instead of a goddamn near-death experience. How they would never understand what it was actually like.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet safety of your room.

Your eyes were half-closed, but the second the door creaked, you blinked awake. And the lazy, knowing smile that spread across your lips nearly undid Natasha entirely.

“What’s got your murder face on?” you murmured, your voice a touch stronger now.

Natasha grumbled something incoherent and kicked the door shut behind her, the metal click a satisfying note of finality. “Just some idiots loitering around like they think this is some kind of theme park.”

“Fans?” you asked, smirking even as your eyelids drooped.

“Interns. But yeah, pretty much.” Natasha muttered, striding over to the bed and placing the plastic tray of food on the bed table. “I swear, they’ve got no boundaries. And if anyone else hovers near your door, I’m personally throwing them out the goddamn window.”

Your grin widened. “I love it when you get all protective. Makes me feel special..”

“Because you are special.” Natasha’s voice softened, and the tension in her shoulders finally eased. “And you’re still not eating this crap alone. I’m not getting scolded by you for making you eat hospital food again.”

“Oh nooo, can’t have that..” you joked, but your eyes shone with warmth.

Natasha slid the table closer to the bed, opening one of the sandwiches before nudging the fruit cup toward you. “Eat. And drink this water. No arguments.”

“Bossy.” you mumbled, but your fingers reached for the cup obediently.

Natasha’s gaze remained locked on you, tracing every detail of your face. The way your eyes still fluttered with fatigue, the way your lips twitched as you fought through the pain. It hurt to watch. But it was better than not seeing you at all.

Once she was convinced you had eaten at least a few bites of the food, Natasha leaned forward and gently tugged the sheets, sliding you slightly over on the mattress.

“What…what’re you doing?” you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“Making room.” Natasha replied bluntly.

She kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed beside you, and settled herself down against the pillows. One arm curled protectively around your shoulders, pulling you gently against her own chest.

“You don’t have to-” you started.

“Shut up.” Natasha’s voice was soft, but the underlying force of it silenced you immediately. “You’re not getting rid of me. I’m staying right here. Whether you like it or not.”

You chuckled weakly. “Guess I don’t really have a choice, huh?”

“Nope.”

The warmth of your body against her own was more comforting than Natasha could have imagined. She felt the weight of exhaustion settle over her like a heavy blanket, tugging at her limbs and mind with quiet insistence.

“Nat?”

“Hm?” Natasha’s voice was already thick with sleep, her fingers gently stroking your arm.

“You’re the best.”

The only answer was a soft, barely audible snore. You smiled, your head nestled against Natasha’s shoulder, your own body easing into the kind of rest you hadn’t felt since the crash.

They were okay. Somehow, against all the odds, they were okay.

-

-

-

-

[ramp-it-up]

Commentary: I was all IN on this AU. But alas. Didn’t have the focus. I loved it. Need to revisit. Fun fact: every time someone reblogs this, I don’t see it because I have one character blocked, lol. Need to unblock them. I guess. 😒

Shield High School Faculty and Staff

Mr. Nicholas Fury, Principal

Science

Dr.Bruce Banner Mr. Anthony Stark

Biology/ Chemistry Physics

Wrestling Forensics

Social Studies

Mr. Sam Wilson (Dept. Chair)

Government/Economics

Track

Mr. James Barnes Mr. Steven Rogers

World History US History

AP European History Baseball

Chess club

Math

Mr. Peter Parker

Calculus

Golf

English Literature

Mr. Loren Olson

British and World Literature

Fencing

World Language

Ms. Natasha Romanoff

Russian

Gymnastics

Electives

Mr. Eric Masterson

PE and Driver’s Education

Football

[lesbiianpeach]

summary: Natasha returns home after days of not seeing her beautiful wife, she can't wait to catch up, to be able to feel her perfect wife, Natasha couldn't ask for a better companion, she Natasha loved coming home and being welcomed by her.

warnings: 18+, sex with feeling, oral reader!receiving, top!Natasha sub!fem!reader, fingering, nicknames in Russian, smut. AN: I don't use Y/n or any kind of variation of [name] in my fanfics, I use nicknames, in this fanfic Natasha calls the reader princess and wife.

Natasha was busy being an avenger, she had been tired for a few days since she came home and saw her wife, Natasha was sitting in the driver's seat driving home, going back to her wife to her world. Before leaving the tower she texted you to let you know she was finally coming back.

Natasha was anxious, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove, when the redhead saw the house where they both lived she smiled at the thought of finally going home, finally being able to hug her wife and smell her, touch her, hear her laugh. When the redhead parked the car in the garage, she walked down to the door with a smile on her face, knowing that as soon as she opened the door she would see you.

As soon as she opened the door she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, Natasha looked at you and wrapped her arms around you, closing the door with her foot - hey love, how are you? - she said kissing the top of your head and moved a hand to your cheek caressing it.

-I missed you Tasha - the red-haired woman smiled and moved closer to kiss your lips lovingly, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being with you again, of being able to touch you while keeping your body close to hers.

-I understand princess, I missed you too - Natasha said pulling away from the kiss and looked at you with love and affection. Natasha moved her hand to your waist and began stroking in light circles. - I missed seeing you so much, feeling you close to me - Natasha said as she moved closer to kiss your lips again, she loved being close to you, when she moved away from your lips she bent down to kiss your neck leaving a few hickeys. 

-Tasha, not here - his protests made her laugh slightly and lift her head from his neck and kiss his lips again.

-ok моя дорогая жена, how about we go to the bedroom instead of me having you in the hallway - she said taking his hand, Natasha wanted more than anything to be able to feel your taste on her lips to feel your spongy walls squeeze her fingers as you came in them.

Nasha opened the bedroom door to see the plants you'd persuaded her to put in the room, she smiled and walked over to sit on the bed, pulling you onto her lap - love, let me have you, please - Natasha's tone was almost pleading, begging you to let her have you on a plate.

-But what about you Tasha? - His concern for her pleasure put another smile on her face, she looked into his eyes and stroked his hair.

- oh my love, you're so adorable, but you'll be able to reciprocate that later I promise, but for now, I just want to have you on my lips, can you do that for me princess? will you give me your permission? - she said, moving her hand to remove your blouse, she saw you nod and shake hers. - Words моя любовь, I need words. - she said, throwing her blouse on the bedroom carpet.

-Yes darling, I understand and you always have my permission Natasha - Natasha kissed your lips quickly and went back to kissing your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites, she left a bite followed by a hickey on your pulse point, drawing a weak moan from you. She pulled away slightly from your neck and looked at you before kissing your neck again, now moving to your collarbone.

She took advantage of the cue and moved her hand to her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh between her fingers she moaned at the sensation of her breasts in her hand, she had missed it so much, he left a few more hickeys on her neck before starting to trace a path of kisses towards the valley of her breasts, she moved her hand from her right breast to her waist, massaging it. With her right breast free, she moved her mouth to her nipple, kissing it and sucking on it with a light bite - I've missed you so much, my love, you're still so perfect - she said, pulling away from her right breast while her hand squeezed her left nipple. 

Without warning, she changed position, taking you off her lap and lying on your back on the bed, her hand that was on your waist moving to the hem of your shorts, she gently lowered it, letting her see your already wet panties. - You're already perfect for me, love - she said, throwing the shorts on the floor, not sure if they had fallen on the carpet. Natasha, who was on her left, lifted her leg and placed it on her shoulder, kissing her thigh, leaving light marks. The marks would be lighter than those on her neck, but they would certainly leave marks.

She moved her free hand up the wet fabric of your panties and began to make light circles as she kissed your thigh looking down at you, watching you moan at the slightest touch of her on your covered pussy. - Yes love, keep moaning for me, don't hide any sweet noises for me - she said as she moved her finger to your panties to take them off.

She took off her panties and left them on the bed as she kissed her way from your thigh to your crotch, she moved her thumb to your clitoris, she began to circle your clitoris she looked at you closing her eyes at her light touch. - Tasha please - your plea made her stop the movement of her thumb a little, she bent down and moved her mouth to your clitoris, she closed her lips on your clitoris sucking it while moving her finger to your folds, she sucked your clitoris while gently adding her finger to your pussy.

She moaned into her clit as she felt its sticky walls squeezing her finger, she looked at you, her hand clenching the sheets and her eyes closed, this renewed her determination, Natasha was sucking her clit and added another finger to her pussy, she moved her fingers in and out of her entrance, she lowered her tongue to lick her arousal that leaked onto the sheets, she moaned at the taste of you and reinforced the movement of her fingers and tongue, when his hand went to her hair and her moans got louder Natasha knew you were close to cumming and at that moment all she wanted was to feel you cum on her lips, he continued the movement of his fingers in her pussy the wet noise being heard, her back arching when a loud moan of her name came from her lips, she moaned when she felt you cum in her mouth, she closed her eyes enjoying the taste of you.

-That's right, good girl, you did so well - she said, pulling away from you, her hand on your thigh, massaging the soft flesh and looking up at you, panting, sweat dripping down her face as she did so.

-Tasha I love you- her breathless voice made Natasha smile at you, she saw your hand reach out and she took it and moved closer and kissed you. 

- I love you too princess - she kisses your cheek and walks away to the bathroom, taking a towel and wetting it a little to make it damp, she returns to the bedroom and gently wipes your thighs with the damp cloth. - I missed you, love - she said lovingly as she looked at you while she put the towel on the bedside table and lay down, pulling you into her arms.

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Clint: Dude, why are you always “Nat this! Nat that!”?

Y/N: What, when?

Y/N: By the way, Nat looks amazing today—

[widowlyy]

💉 Uncongratulations, Unthank You

analysis. Money was hard, especially working as a waitress fulltime for income. Especially when your wife is an alcoholic who wastes all your earned money on beer and gambling. When you find out you're pregnant, you couldn't think your day could be worse until you find out your new doctor is an agitating, adorable, dork. pairings. Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill (married), Hela x Reader (married), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (cheating, affair later on), Reader x Wanda Maximoff x Rio Vidal (iconic platonic trio) warnings. alcohol consumption, hints of manipulative relationship, unwanted pregnancy

an. uploading again due to catching up on challenge, i know denny wenny was excited for this one. @thewidowsledger

tags. @fxckmiup @ihartnat @scarlettbitchx @moimmmm

wc. 2.3k

Your hands kneaded the dough softly as you finished mixing the ingredients. Sugar, butter, flour. Sugar, butter, flour. Your thoughts were quiet, nauseous enough as you put the pie in the oven to bake. Clapping your hands together as you put the already made pies towards the counter near the burners where Agatha would scramble eggs, before the sound of a door opening had your senses widen.

“What’s the flavor today?” Agatha asked as she went to check on the supplies for eggs, tomatoes, anything else she would require for today. Her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun with a blue cap on, blue polo and jeans. You quirked a brow before wittily replying.

“My day has been shit pie,” You snarked slightly, checking the time as you tied the white sash over your waist atop of the short pink dress you wore for the work uniform. Your hair was put in two dutch braids which ended off in a neat ponytail, swallowing slightly as you saw the glare.

“Y/N,” Agatha responded sharply, before you rolled your eyes, “Honey my Blackberry Exploded pie,”

Agatha sighed, she wiped the counters before the ding of the door cut off the tension as a familiar ginger walked in followed by a darker-haired woman.

“You two are late,” Agatha scolded as Wanda came to hug you as she kissed your cheek in greeting. Rio scoffed, snapping out, “You can kiss my ass, there’s no such thing as late,” 

Agatha glared, before grumbling, tossed you three a washcloth and washing sprays as you started cleaning. Customers started walking in, and at your station Fury had sat himself down, Nicholas J. Fury, the man who started this diner himself. Fury’s diner and pie shop, you put the cleaning utensils away and grabbed a menu for the elder.

“Good morning Nick, what would you like today?” You offered, handing him the menu as he looked up at you before he started his rant.

“It’s too hot in here Y/N, can you turn the air on,” Cranky as usual, you patted his shoulder and reassuringly smiled.

“I’ll tell Agatha,” You reassured, before he snapped back, “Tell Agatha it’s too hot in here, anyways. I’d like my eggs scrambled, the ‘Honey my Blackberry Exploded’ and tomato on the side. I want the tomato on a separate plate,”

You scribbled that down in the notepad, nodding before you added on, “And to drink?”

“Coffee, but I want water to come first. Coffee comes with the meal, not before, not after. With the meal,” Fury stated, you felt more nauseous than ever. The bile in your throat threatening everything, “The coffee has to come with the meal, Y/N, what’s the matter, am I making you that sick?” 

You rushed out of the main room to the bathroom, Agatha stepped out from the kitchen, “Hey! Y/N, where are you going? You have a customer to serve!” Wanda dropped everything and followed, Rio lifted the finger to Agatha before waltzing into the bathroom after the two of you and Agatha snapped out, “Get back to work!” “Make me bitch!” The familiar bickering between Rio and Agatha started to occur, Agatha who pouted had grumbled, “Don’t make me say it again!” Silence emitted from the bathroom, the cook tapped her foot against the flooring before continuing on, “You’re getting one more chance!” …

“I can dock your pay!” Hopelessly, she was bickering with a wall at this point. Rolling her eyes as she walked back into the kitchen.

You were in a cubicle hunched over before walking out. Going to the sink to wash your hands, hands found your shoulders before you murmured out, “I’m fine Wands, really, we need to go,” You spun away from the ginger before Rio grabbed you and spun you around while slamming a box into your chest back to the cubicle with a lifted brow. Concern was on her face before tutting out, “We aren’t leaving until you pee on the stick,” A groan had left your lips, taking the pregnancy test with you to the cubicle. Stress was consuming you, after you did your business. You went over to the sink and set a timer on your phone, before going back to the three before complaining, “It was a stupid mistake! I was drunk, I shouldn’t of slept with Hela,” The mention of your wife had you recoil, you don’t know what changed, was it the alcohol? You pushed your face into your hands as a sigh left your lungs, Wanda rubbed your shoulders before offering out, “Look, you need to leave Hela. She ain’t good,” “I have no money Wands, she takes everything just for bottles of beer, if I leave her I have nowhere to go,” You told the two again, shaking your head, “Hela wasn’t always like this, she’s just going through something,” 

“Look, dump her, you can stay with me,” Wanda suggested again, eyes roaming over to Rio for help as the woman shrugged, before Rio added on, “Especially for that baby,” “I’m not pregnant, it’s going to be negative!” You snapped, the ringing went off. Before you knew it you were on your feet and moving to the sink. Picking up the test, two lines. You groaned and threw the test in the trash before sighing, “I’ll figure something out, I promise, but let’s just go,” s soft and reassuring for you before you shook your head, “No I can’t possible do this, I’ll be fine, the test is negative,”

“Honey, positive or negative you need to get out of there,” Rio added on, a brow quirked before the ringer sounded from your phone. You walked over and flipped the test over and you felt everything slow.

Sugar. Butter. Flour.

You walked out of the bathroom after the two, noticing your spouse sitting among the stools at the bar. You went on over, hands slightly shaky before asking softly, “Hela? Honey? What are you doing here, you’re supposed to be working,”

“Well I quit that job, Stark said I was late, complains I’m always late. I don’t fucking care!” She snapped out, rough hands grabbing your soft hands, eyes softening as a pie was slid between the two of you, and she took a bite.

“How much money are you making? Because this won’t do,” A frown found your lips, worry finding your mindset as you opened your pouch and handed her the dollars.

“You said my pie is so good I could open up my own pie shop,” You murmured, a questioning look found your face before your wife actually looked you in the eyes. She scoffed.

“Well, I only said that back then so I could butter you up and put a ring on your finger, now give me my kiss,” You leaned in, pressing a peck against Hela’s cheek. She ran a hand over your hips before asking, “What’s going on with you? All the sudden your tits are bigger, are you doing some sorcery to make me fuck you more?”

You winced, letting out a quiet sigh at her antics. It wasn’t until Hela stood, pressing a haste kiss against your lips before pulling back, “well, I’m going out to the casino, I’ll see you soon,”

And just like that, your wife left the diner. You pulled out your phone and went outside for a moment, calling your local doctors office to schedule an appointment after your shift. Taking a moment to process everything before you turn to go in the kitchen, snagging the ingredients that your doctor loved. Baking a quick pie before you went back to work.

Sugar. Butter. Flour.

Your mind was racing, a freshly made pie was sitting in your hands and you couldn’t help but think that everyone’s eyes were on you, talking about you. Knocked up. You saw how some heads ducked in to talk, you swallowed before a nurse walked out, “Y/N,” As your name was called, you stood up. Following the nurse, after getting your height and weight you were led into a room and you sat on the examination table, common questions were asked before you had your bloodwork done. What were you kidding? If you were actually pregnant what would you do? Your spouse was a wreck, you were hardly surviving on money and worst of all is that you don’t want this baby. The pie was held in your lap as you waited for Doctor Danvers, it wasn’t until a knock sounded and the door opened to show a stranger. Who the hell was this woman? She was fit, biceps slightly showing through the white coat and her hair was neatly tied back in a bun.

“Ms.L/N,” She pronounced your last name wrong, and as your brows pinched and jaw opened about to correct her she stumbled over her feet and the stool that was near the examination table as she slipped, caught herself with her hand on the floor and pushed herself up. “It’s L/N,” You retorted, noticing her scratch the back of her neck, a brow furrowed. Just as she was about to apologize you snapped out, “Where is Doctor Danvers?” “Errrm, right, Doctor Danvers is.. semi-retired?” She responded to your question, green eyes analyzing your frame. You were gorgeous, but she mentally slapped herself. She was married with a wife, and she shuffled, “I’m the new doctor here, Doctor Romanoff, two weeks in, from New York, originally Russia,” “I don’t care where you’re from! You are not my doctor,” You snapped, cutting her off and sending Natasha a glare that could shatter glass as you roughly turned your head away. 

“Okay, if you are that uncomfortable with me as your new doctor, can I refer you to someone else local?” She asked, eyes flitting over to the pastry in your lap as you slid it off of your thighs before you shook your head. Giving up, you dragged a hand down your face in exasperation. “No, it’s fine, but you’re not my doctor,” You grumbled, and she noted how stubborn you were. She held the clipboard and sat down on the stool that she tripped over. A brow quirked. “So, why are you in here today, Mrs.L/N,” She once again pronounced your last name incorrectly, it was agitating. Maybe a little bit cute, but mostly agitating. You nibbled on your bottom lip to help with the stress before dropping the bomb.

“I’m pregnant,” You rumbled grumpily, arms wrapping around your lower abdomen.

“Congratulations!” She enthusiastically added on after your statement, but she took a note to sit her ass back down when you looked back over and glared at her.

“I’m not happy about it, I don’t want it,” You snapped, seeing her eyes fill with concern. It wasn’t the first time she heard it, but coming from a gorgeous woman like you brought up a surprise.

“So, I can refer you to–,” “No, I’m keeping it, I’m not that cruel,” You murmured out sheepishly after, fingers picking at the beds of your nails as you exhaled softly, before the harsher voice came out, “it’s not a party though,” “Okay,” She murmured, clicking her pen and writing down in the notes box of her sheet, before mumbling quietly enough for you to hear, “it is not a party,” Another knock sounded on the door, and Doctor Romanoff stood up and went to the door to gather the file the nurse handed her. A small conversation picked up, you listened quietly before the door shut again and the redhead walked behind you back to her stool and opened the file. “So, Ms.L/N,” Finally she pronounced your last name right, a sigh left your lips as you rubbed your temples with your fingers before she announced, “You’re pregnant! Uncongratulations!”

“Unthank you!” You retorted back, biting down sharply on your tongue before you groaned to yourself. “The receptionist will hand you a packet of dos and don'ts, alongside good and bad foods. No coffee, alcohol, much more,” Natasha told you, she stood up and patted you on the shoulder before you slammed the pie into her chest carefully so it would not make a mess. “Here, have it, it was Doctor Danver’s favorite pie. Honey with roasted walnuts and a hint of marshmallow,” You murmured softly, eyes meeting Natasha’s before she nervously chuckled. “I don’t really eat pastries or sugar-y foods that much anymore. Not good for me,I kinda wanna live long” She held the pie in one hand, and scratched the back of her neck in the other. “Well my mama told me that you can live for as long as you like as long as you do what your heart wants you to do,” You pouted, eyes daring the doctor to decline your offer as she sighed. Giving in and setting it to the side. “Okay, I’ll take it, just call me or the office if you have any concerns or questions,” She spoke softly. Eyes soft, before she was going to go to the door you spoke out again.

“How pregnant am I?” you asked softly, turning slightly to look at the doctor. “Very much pregnant,” She responded, turning her shoulder slightly to get another look at you You scoffed, before groaning out, “I meant weeks,” “Oh! Oh! Sorry, weeks, about eight so you have a while,” She answered, before opening the door and holding it for you to leave. “Please Y/N, do call if you need anything,” She said softly, you simply nodded before leaving. Her eyes shut as she closed the door and pressed her forehead into the wood. Taking a moment to process, before turning to the pie. She bit on her lower lip, she really shouldn’t. Innocently looking at it before locking the door and grabbing a fork. Placing the utensil back down as she debated.

After a bit, she lifted it up and dug it into the pastry and took a bite. Moaning at the flavorful tastes on her tongue, it was delicious. Spooning mouthfuls as she favored the dish, now she knew who to rely on for pies. In hope you don’t go to another doctor. 

[unholyhelbig]

Hi,

I love the fics and honestly think you’re one of the amazing writers in here.

I was wondering about the Wandanat x reader fic the beast you’ve made of me, I was wondering if there will be more parts ? As I read the last part there is on there and I wanna know what happens next

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,212

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, cannon-typical violence, mentions of pain, sweating, general mentions of pain, gun use, horrible grammar I don't proof read we know this

[a/n: hi! God, it's been months. I had a bit of writers block when it came to this one but I'm back on my Wandanat bullshit, so thank you all for your patience. Not sure how I'm feeling about this one.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The Avengers compound had an extensive library that was settled with a thin layer of dust. Most of the editions were well past your time this go around. Not the dozens of other lives you had suffered through. The spines were bound in genuine leather and the pages crackled when you pulled them apart. You would wager that no one had been here for a long time, at least, not in the last decade.

Wanda’s hazel eyes tracked you from left to right, and then left again, as you paced the carpeted floor. Large stretches of golden sunlight were interrupted by her shadow, her silhouette suffering your constant movement. It was warm in here, much too warm for your liking. Your skin felt damp.

“Okay, you’re making me nauseous.”

Wanda had stood up during your last lap and you ran directly into her. Every spot where her skin touched yours burned viciously and you were thankful for the already present heat masking your blush. The Witch gently closed the book and you reluctantly let her take it from you.

“I fear that Grimms Fairytales are not going to be of much assistance here, darling girl.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but snapped your jaw audibly shut. Darling girl was bold. Sure, she’d sprinkled a few leg-weakening pet names in there, but this nearly seemed deliberate. Your mind was swimming too much to hold onto that life raft at the moment, so you let out an indignant huff.

Wanda had been tasked with watching you. Steve didn’t say it outright, but you knew that Thor’s visit had him shaken, figuring that if the woman in front of you could deliver some tilting blows to Thanos himself, she could probably handle you.

Natasha was buzzing with anger, nearly vibrating out of her skin. Her wife didn’t’ make a move to comfort her, explaining to you that when Natasha got like this, it was better not to poke the bear with a stick unless she wanted to lose a hand, or both.

It left the two of you in the library that had considerably less answers than you were anticipating. The mythology section of the collection was empty save for the book that Wanda had just pried from your hands. The only wolf had gobbled up a poor, defenseless grandmother before stealing her nightgown.

She watched you carefully for a few moments before she adjusted the pillow on a window seat and sat until she looked relatively comfortable. She’d taken your only distraction from the pain that still ebbed against your side from broken glass. You started to fidget.

“Come here.”

“What?”

She sighed and patted her lap, like the answer should have clicked in your head right away. It certainly didn’t. Not only were you searching her face, but your own mind for what she wanted you to do.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“This morning. I almost took you and Natasha out in the non-date kind of way.”

She scoffed again, murmuring a simple ‘come here, then.’ That left no room for argument. Your body seemed to give in when you sat next to her on the cushion, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. God- maybe you were tired.

Wanda guided you gently until your head was laying on her lap. You breathed in her scent, like fresh rain over lilacs. She carried the same floral shampoo that Natasha did, but somehow, it hung sweeter on her skin. You were tense, relaxing under her nimble fingers as she started to glide them in a steady rhythm through your hair.

A content sigh, laced with the smallest bit of a growl, escaped you as you finally gave in and curled closer to her. You could feel your eyes grow heavy, the comfort of her simple touch settling over you like a blanket.  

“Go ahead and sleep, baby.”

“m’don’t want to hurt you,”

“You won’t.” Wanda assured, “I’ll protect you.”

Affection bloomed from the center of your chest. You turned your head, looked up at her. There was so much care in her gaze. She smiled softly down at you, moved her fingers across the small scar under your right eye, a constant reminder of crumbled ice on a fateful day.

“Don’t give me that look. I mean it. Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll keep the memories at bay.”

Her reassurance seemed to be enough for you to give in to the remaining exhaustion, your cheek back against the soft fabric of her pants, breathing in that intoxicating scent. Wanda’s fingers continued to trace patters at the small of your neck, through your hair. You swore, you heard her release a hum in a melody you couldn’t place, before you allowed yourself to sleep.

Wanda Maximoff had known pain before. It attracted like a magnet, dutifully dragging the metal of unwanted memories back to the surface each time she got too close. She’d been good, she’d been bad, and most of the time, she conceded to being both. There was a thin line that she threaded, and Natasha Romanoff loved her immensely on either side.

There was anguish radiating off you in waves. She felt the emotion in her fingertips where they met your skin, so soft and pale with exhaustion. This was the first time in the last two weeks that she had seen an expression of peace across your features, and she quite liked the image.

The witch could feel your curse pulsing through your veins, just as much as she could feel your warm weight against her lap. You let out the softest bit of a whimpered breath and snuggled closer, as if she were your liferaft on a choppy sea.

She was growing exhausted herself. While she’d had a certain fondness for her godly teammate, his sneering display in the conference room had left her rattled. The sun that flowed through the room was warming her, but not to an uncomfortable degree. She leaned back on the window and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of your steady breathing.

“You need to wake up, miss.” Wanda was leaden with sleep, eyes heavy and taking in lungful’s of grassy scent. The ground beneath her was damp, but soft, so she pressed her cheek closer to the moisture and tried to bat away the presence pestering her.

“Please, I’ll take no pleasure in leaving you. Not with it out here.”

It. Such a simple, yet vague word that ebbed away at the last of the tiredness that plagued her. Since she was a girl, even before the poking and prodding of Hydra’s sadistic minds, she could tell the difference between a dream, and reality.

Life had a haze to it, a softness around the edges that her dreams rivaled. They felt all the more real than her daily endeavors, and at first, that sent a steel rod of fear through Wanda. But, she’d grown to love the control she held over her dreams. They all meant something, perhaps more than her waking hours.

When she sat up, her head rushed with blood with a comfortable and familiar whoosh. The person kneeling next to her was a stranger. A slight thing with dark skin and cornflower eyes. They blinked curiously at Wanda. A long and scruffy beard hung from their chin, full of small flowers, embedded in the curls. They had a feminine figure, a masculine expanse of shoulders.  

They smirked at her. “You do not have to stare, miss. I am well aware of what I look like.”

“No, that’s not… I didn’t. You’re lovely.”

Blush had found its way to Wanda’s cheeks, and she allowed herself to be pulled to her shaky feet by the stranger. They smelled of sugar, and the slightest hint of cinnamon that reminded Wanda of a kitchen after a meal had been cooked. They smiled more genuinely this time, and the tension seemed to exit the conversation as soon as it had entered.

“What’s your name?” Wanda asked.

They frowned. “I don’t think I have one anymore. Now, we really do need to get a move on. Do you hear the thunder?”

She didn’t hear a thing past the bubbling stream and the desperate squawks of birds’ way up in the trees. These woods were lovely, but she had no time to ponder them. The nameless stranger took long strides towards their destination, and while Wanda hadn’t a clue what they were running from, she didn’t want to stick around and find out.

The stranger seemed to know where they were going, hopping easily over logs, and letting their bare toes curl into the dampness of the stream. Wanda’s fingers brushed across leaves, and rough tree bark. Though the compound was surrounded by forest, it was much too manufactured. This was wild, this made her want to howl into it’s silence.

“The beast has been pulling against us lately,” they explained, reaching a hand out and helping Wanda over a large, smooth boulder that had been warmed expertly by the sun. “For decades, we’ve known peace in our own right. As peaceful as one can be against their will. As far as prisons go, this is a beautiful one.”

Snowcapped mountains stretched far into the sky, into the endlessness of nature. She’d been imprisoned and this did not seem like one. There was room to roam, there were crops, and animals that stalked through the same trees they did. She had no right to judge-however- dreaming or not, their struggle was not her own.

“Come, I am not alone.”

Wanda was lulled with kindness, and well aware that nothing could hurt her here. She followed the Stranger to a small cabin that cut through the clearing in the forest. A stone well was nearby, as was the looming skeletal structure of a barn, slanted and rotten through.

The Stranger knocked and did not wait for an answer before pushing her way into the home. The same scent they carried bombarded Wanda with warmth. Oil lamps, and books were strewn about. It was cluttered, but comfortable. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, and a large-bearish man turned towards them, a book dwarfed within his paws.

A woman was at the stove, slowly turning a stews content around. She flicked glowing green eyes in their direction, lilting her head like a curious feline. Her movements were catlike and calculated, teeth pointed into little knives.

“They do not have names either.” The Stranger nodded solemnly.

“How long have you been here?” Wanda asked.

The bear man responded in his deep, jaded voice “Forever.”

“The dwarves, they tricked us. All of us.” The cat woman scooped broth, potatoes and carrots into separate bowls, the yellow steam curling around the oil lamp and it’s flickering flame. She frowned. “Something from each stolen in order to prevent Ragnarök.”

Wanda had heard that before. Thor said it; the second coming, an apocalypse of Asgard. It was the catalyst for your imprisonment in the first place. She was having trouble grasping the purpose of the stranger, of the cat woman and the bear man, and the place her conscious was lingering in now.

“Their chains were not strong enough. They needed elements from nature to make binds that would hold a Beast as large and dangerous as the one that they feared.”

Bear man hoisted himself from the sofa in front of the fire. He wedged a crutch under his arm that Wanda had not noticed at first. He walked with a limp and loomed above her, covered in hair, claws as long as her fingers. She gazed up at him, suddenly surrounded.

“The sound of a cat’s footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of birds.” The Stranger explained. They plopped down in a creaky kitchen chair, reached for the stew before the Cat woman batted their hand away.

“All of that… for chains?”

The Stranger sneered, plucking a flower from their beard and plopping the color in the middle of the bland stew. “It’s worked, hasn’t it?”

When she stirred, the sun had lowered significantly from its point in the sky. A sorbet glow moved across the discarded book of mythology and a blanket had been draped over her shoulders. She woke gently, as she always did, with a certain degree of elegance that evaded most of the avengers.

Natasha was at the one table in the room, her chin resting on her folded arms. She’d been watching Wanda for some time now; the slow rise and fall of her chest, the comfortable expression on her face while she held you. She still held you now, her grip tightening in her own sleep.

Adoration had replaced the anger in Natasha’s eyes from earlier in the day. Though, her knuckles were wrapped in a thin layer of gauze, a clear sign that she had taken most of her frustrations out on a punching bag in the gym without the proper precautions. Wanda fought the urge to press her lips against them, to soothe the pulsing pain.

 “She’s really taken a liking to you,” Natasha whispered. Her voice held no malice, no jealousy. It was like a soothing balm, despite the small frown that formed against her features. “I put myself between her and a literal God today. A friend.”

“It’s naive of us to think of her as helpless.”

You were curled so easily into Wandas side, soft snores escaping you. Your fingers had found purchase in the fabric of the blanket, pulling it close, wrapping yourself up. It was the most peaceful she had seen you since you’d met. She ached to hold you in the same way, but swallowed the feeling in exchange for letting you rest.  

“In the atrium the other day, she couldn’t take a punch. I think this version of her is helpless. If what Thor is saying is true, then she could bring about the apocalypse.”

“Yes, in Asgard.”

Natasha breathed out, traced her fingers over the soiled gauze. She couldn’t look Wanda in the eye when she used this pleading tone. She would fold for her wife, and fold for the girl that she held in her arms. They were much too persuasive.

“Do you blame her? She was prosecuted simply because of her lineage. The whole family was. I don’t think Loki is a good guy, especially after what he did. But when you’re born into a world that thinks you’re a bastard, a mistake, and treats you like one, it’s easy to fall into the projected legends, don’t you think?”

The spy let the statement linger. Her entire life she was trained to be a killer to the point where her own thoughts were blurred into nothing but a red ledger. It had taken Clint Barton to pull her out, one single person to rip her from a life of killing. Maybe you just needed someone to care.

A small, content whimper escaped you, and Natasha looked at the way the golden sunset highlighted your features. You’d pressed yourself even closer to Wanda, if that was possible. The Witch stared at you with a soft gaze.

“What do you suggest we do, darling?” Natasha asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“They are going to bring the fight to us, stop at nothing until they have her back in chains.” Wanda frowned, a small crinkle of frustration smoothing against her nose. “We bring the fight to them. We fell Asgard before they can fell us.”

Natasha’s warmth was inevitable as she adjusted your stance. Her amber scent filled your lungs stronger than it ever had before. All of your senses were on fire. Every inch of her lean figure was pressed against your back. She gently corrected your hips, aligning them with the target.

She was taller than you by a few inches, her breath hot on your cheek and smelling oaky. You struggled not to sigh into her.  That would be wrong. She was Wanda’s wife, and they were in a committed and happy relationship.

They both flustered you beyond comprehension. Wanda had her soft touches and her commanding tone. Natasha with her assured guidance and rumbling voice. The pet names, and the lingering hands had you reeling.

“Okay, kitten, it’s important to keep your arms slightly bent.” Her hands trailed down your arm, sending shivers that you couldn’t suppress up your spine. You could feel her grin, whole body flushing with soft pink color. “Good girl. Now you’re going to aim slightly left of your target and gently squeeze the trigger. You’re going to get some kickback, so watch your nose.”

You pulled in a steadying breath. Natasha’s hands wandered around your waist and to your stomach. Again, she corrected your stance. It was ever-so-subtle. You closed your eyes for a short moment, trying to focus before pulling the trigger.

It was loud, making your ears ring. The kickback was rough against your wrist, but Natasha held you steadily. The fact that she was holding you at all made you dizzy. You’d blown a few holes through the target at the far end of the range, all just south of the belt.

“Well,” She chuckled, leaning her chin against your shoulder. “That’s one way to do it. Not necessarily fatal, but I’m sure they’ll wish it was.”

You crinkled your nose and set the gun safely down as she had instructed. Everything about it felt unnatural but you wished for her to keep holding you close as she was. You knew that she was trying her best. Both she and Wanda were. But guns weren’t your thing. Neither was hand to hand combat or the blood tests, or the stretching days of sleep deprivation.

You were aching for your routines with Jennifer in the legal offices and the shitty lifetime movies and the sodium-filled takeout that the two of you would indulge in over box wine. All things that you took for granted. All things that you ached so heavily for you could cry. It was a pit in your stomach so dense you could almost feel it.

In fact, you could feel something. A cold sweat that you attributed to the proximity of Natasha started to collect in the palms of your hands and the small of your neck. But it was quickly spreading.

Natasha seemed to notice, moving her hands to your hips and frowning at you. “You alright, volchitsa?”

“I don’t like guns,” You swallowed the muted nausea, leaning your back against the nearest wall, reveling in the coolness. “Is it hot in here?”

“No, but you’re burning up.”

She was a spy. You don’t know how you thought you could get one over on her or ignore the sudden turn of your stomach, not when a sharp pain ripped through your middle and dropped you to a knee with an indignant huff. Sweat dripped off the tip of your nose. She stabilized you with a swiftness that only she could.

“I can’t quite seem to stop embarrassing myself in front of you, can I?” You whimpered out.

“No, you really can’t.” Natasha carded her fingers through damp hair, the motion soothing. “You going to knock out on me? Go to another time period?”

You grit your teeth, tucked your head “Don’t think so, this is different.”

It was different. Something was clawing deep within you, wanting to get out. The arm that wasn’t holding you up found purchase around your midsection as if it were trying to keep your insides in. She saw the desperation in your eyes. Must have, because you were moved back to the safety of your room.

You were not delusional. It was a prison cell, a fancier version of the holding container that they’d kept you in before. It was meant to keep you in just as much as it was meant to keep everyone else out. Natasha had tucked the gun in the back of her pants before leading you back here. Carrying you, perhaps. You’d been too disoriented to know.

“It’s… hot” You said again, curled in on yourself at the edge of the bed “You don’t think it’s hot?”

Before she could answer you were pulling your shirt off, pleased by the temporary relief that it granted you. Then the jeans and the socks. This left you in a pair of tight boxer shorts and a sports bra. The lights were too bright and your skin felt like it was crawling.

“FRIDAY.” Natasha called out, tracking you carefully “Can I get a reading on vitals, please?”

A mechanical voice recalled. “Body temperature: 232 Fahrenheit, Heart Rate: 325 BPM.”

“Perfect. Please send Wanda down right away.” Natasha dragged her gaze up and down your mostly nude body. “I believe I’ll need my wife’s assistance.”

“Right away, Mrs. Romanoff.” FRIDAY responded. “Temperature is now reading 245 Fahrenheit.”

Stupid fucking robot.

You’d turned on your side now, the sheets beneath you saturated in sweat. Your breaths had changed from soft pants to deep growls of discomfort. All you could feel was heat and sharp pains. This is what you had imagined death to feel like. These horrible waves of discomfort that were never ending.

“I think,” You turned your face into the mattress fully, snarling something deep and wild. Natasha’s hand was on your back as a grounding force. “fuck.”

“What is it baby?” She was pleading with you. A brokenness in her voice that you’d never heard from her before. One that you wanted to stop. You wanted everything to stop. “How can I help you?”

“You need to… leave… don’t want to hurt you.”

You repeated the same sentiment that you had with her wife just hours before. Natasha wanted to deny you. Of course, you wouldn’t hurt her. But then your spine shifted under her palm. Each vertebrae seemed to quake and clack together as if a handler had moved the handle of a whip at the base. You groaned and clenched your fingers into the fluff of the mattress at the motion. You were in insurmountable pain, and she could do nothing to stop it except obey.

“Okay,” Natasha whispered, not sure of herself. “Okay. I’ll be right outside that door. FRIDAY will monitor. Helen is on her way.”

She got a choked groan in response. Willing herself to leave was difficult. Closing the door behind her was worse. She found herself in the same observation room that was mute to your screams. Deep in her gut, she knew what was happening. It was logical. It was in all the horror movies. It would be impossible to witness much less go through.

Wanda burst through the corridor, her socks skidding on the linoleum. Natasha softened her crash landing with her shoulder, didn’t try to push her back but kept her from going further. She’d learned long ago that telling Wanda not to do something would get her nowhere. It would set her back ten paces, perhaps even twenty.

“What’s happening? propustite menya, ya khochu yeye uvidet'.”

Natasha shook her head, resolute. “It’s better if you don’t. She’s in pain.”

“And you’re out here?” a raw type of accusation surged through Wanda’s words, she moved to pushed past Natasha again, was stopped once more. She could overpower her wife, but knew better not to. Instead, nailing her with an exasperated glare. “Why?”

“She asked me not to, begged me. Y/n just figured out what she is and now it’s coming to the surface. She wants to lick her wounds in peace. We should grant her that at the very least, even if we want to storm in there and nurse her through it.” Natasha’s voice cracked, she blinked, looked away dejectedly. “She knows we’re here. Right here.”

Wanda crossed her arms over her chest, clearly unhappy, but conceding. She stalked over to the viewing window guiltily. Natasha felt as if you were more of an animal than ever, trapped within these four walls.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, baby?” She couldn’t peel herself from the door, had her eyes clenched shut. There was a pounding headache.

“Where the fuck is she?”

That got her away from the wall, pressing her fingers up against the window, breath fogging the glass. Wanda was true to her word. The bed was empty. The containment unit was empty. The entire room was visible from where the two of them stood.

“FRIDAY I need a location on y/n?” She was met with silence, tepid green eyes meeting Wanda’s with nothing short of fear. “FRIDAY?”

With a fizzled snap, the lights flickered out, plunging the two of them into darkness. Natasha felt her heart in her throat for a single moment. A fearful and tense moment that instantly dried her throat in the pitch black. Her forehead thumped against the glass in annoyance. In defeat.

Behind the glass, something that suddenly seemed as thin as paper, two glowing eyes stared unblinkingly at her. Tracking her in ways that she could not track back. Warm breath fogged up the divider. She could feel it, touch it

“Shit” Natasha drew out the word. “Do you think she’s pissed I keep calling her kitten?”

Taglist💕: @dannipotatoo, @non-binary-frogking, @mysticalmoonlight7, @metanoiablxxm, @coxlong, @b3nzzzzz, @simpforlizzie, @delulu-bayolet-era, @dorabledewdroop, @crescentcrush, @roselockwood, @ellieromanov, @leenasayeed, @theowlappears, @pitifulbinx, @pepemyfantasy, @tekanparadiae, @skittlebum, @mariabeloskivismyoc, @natsbiggestfan1, @marvelwomen-simp, @cinffy23, @kyky-maximoff, @natalierushmansstuff, @bstvst, @lezzylover, @404-almostdone, @mishimrno, @maxidentbby, @shayarshucky, @merlinsouls, @neothepotato, @aliherreraaa, @olicity-boo, @tarathia, @thinking1bee, @shayarshucky, @bstvst, alowint, jono723, kaosrsing, gemz5, inarayofmoonlight, just4natasha, woow-ies,

[cjjohansson]

natasha and y/n texting -

y/n: you know i respect you, right?

nat: yeah…why?

y/n: cos when i get there it’s gonna look like i don’t for a little while, not until im done with you

[chrisrobbins2012]

I loved her.she was truly queen of marvel

#an adorable assasin

[yelenabemylova]

marvel masterlist / requesting guidelines / other fics

natasha romanoff / black widow

epiphany

bi wife energy

wisdom teeth

favourite things

charmed

support

lethal poser

clingy

bioluminescence

made to be broken

shut up

flu (ft. maria)

in the kitchen humming

birthday

us against the world

misfortune

picnic

my shirt

seasonal depression

christmas presents

escape

green jumper

wanda maximoff / scarlet witch

ADHD

3am

a kaleidescope of butterflies

what's going on?

her princess

sick

yelena belova / black widow

morning

safe and at peace (ft. kate)

kate bishop / hawkeye

safe and at peace (ft. yelena)

not okay

who's keeping score (gamer kate au)

jealousy, jealousy

guilt

maria hill / director hill

softie

flu

bathtime

agatha harkness / death's ex

sugar mommy au

red wine supernova (agathario x reader au)

[swan-of-sunrise]

Heaven-Sent

Summary: The morning after Steve and (Y/N)’s much-anticipated first time together, as shown through the eyes of a romantic and love-struck super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for implied sexy times

A/N: Hi there! Since the last couple of Superhero Snapshots were on the angsty side, I figured that you guys deserved some fluff and a hint of spice, so here it is! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Heaven-Sent November 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

Ignoring the super-soldier serum flowing through his veins and putting aside his role as the leader of the Avengers, Steve Rogers’ morning routine was remarkably ordinary. He was roused from his slumber by the shrill sound of his alarm clock at five-thirty and was out the door by five-forty-five, embarking on his early morning run; the others found it challenging to keep pace with him, so he often only had his battered MP3 player and its many energizing playlists for company. When he promptly returned to the Avengers Facility at seven o’clock, he took a shower and headed to their shared kitchen to whip up some breakfast just as his sleep-riddled teammates began to emerge from their suites. During missions, his morning run became his morning push-ups-and-sit-ups regiment and his breakfast usually consisted of instant coffee and granola bars, but the routine remained regardless.

That particular morning, however, Steve was slowly roused from his deep slumber by the warm rays of sunlight streaming in through the bedroom windows and the chirping of birds in the trees outside. With a content hum, he unfurled his arms from around his pillow and rolled over onto his back, bringing a hand up to rub at his sleep-filled eyes and stifle his exhausted yawn; he blinked his eyes open, momentarily surprised to find himself lounging in (Y/N)’s bed, but memories of the night before flooded his mind when he spotted some of their clothing strewn across the floor and a familiar black lace bra dangling off of the bedside lamp’s shade, prompting a love-struck grin to slowly spread across his face as he replayed the beginning of their perfect evening together…

“So…” (Y/N) slowly began, a bashful grin spreading across her face as she turned to face him and held her hands behind her back. Her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkled under the dim glow of the overhead porch light, and Steve found himself stunned by her beauty for the umpteenth time that evening; he’d done everything he could not to ogle her all throughout dinner, but the off-the-shoulder black cocktail dress hugged her curves in the most scintillating way and its daring neckline nearly brought him to his knees in the middle of the restaurant.

Steve chuckled and mirrored his girlfriend’s stance with a playful smile. “So…?”

The historical-fiction novelist took a step forward, and the look of desire in her intense gaze forced him to swallow thickly and hold his breath in anticipation. “We’ve had a wonderful evening together and I really don’t want it to end just yet, so would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee, huh?” Steve moved closer and pretended to ponder her question. “Well, it all depends, sunshine.”

(Y/N) softly bit her crimson-hued bottom lip and tilted her head to the side in faux inquisitiveness. “On?”

“Whether you’re inviting me inside for a cup of coffee…” One of Steve’s hands moved to rest on her waist while the other cupped the warm skin of her cheek, the both of them leaning in towards one another. “Or if you’ve got something else in mind.”

“You’re a very, very intelligent man, sweetheart.” The historical-fiction novelist’s breath fanned over Steve’s lips but before they could connect with hers, she flashed him a mischievous smile and slipped out of his embrace to stand at the porch railing; he grinned at her unabashed teasing and followed after her, standing behind her and wrapping his hands around the railing to cage her in between his arms “As a matter of fact, there is something else I had in mind.”

Bending down, Steve nuzzled his nose against her neck and breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume, her breath hitching when his lips purposefully brushed against her pulse point. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” (Y/N) hummed as she turned to face him, leaning back against the railing and looking up at him through her long lashes while a seductive smile played on her lips. “And I’ve got a feeling that you’re thinking of the same thing that I am. Would you like to know how I know?” Steve, entranced by how beautiful she looked in the pale moonlight, wet his dry lips and mutely nodded. “Because you’re looking at me like I’m the most profound revelation of your life.”

“You are…” Steve slid his arms around his girlfriend’s waist and pulled her against his chest, all too aware of her elevated heartbeat and the lustful gleam in her eyes as he met her heavy gaze. “You’re my everything, baby. My Tiny Dancer, remember?”

Bashfully smiling at his use of his special nickname for her, (Y/N) slung her arms around his neck and dreamily sighed. “Just when I think I couldn’t possibly fall any deeper in love with you, you go and say the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard and I go weak at the knees.”

“And I’ll gladly catch you each and every time, sunshine; if I could, I’d hold you in my arms forever, just like this.” Steve’s gaze flicked down to focus on her purple garnet pendant, a wave of insecurity suddenly taking hold and causing his heart to race. “For full transparency, though, I…um, I haven’t really done this since before I went into the ice. I’ve been on dates, of course, and I’ve gotten a couple of bases in but…well, no home-run this century.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to-”

“I do!” He hastily interrupted and blushed at his over-eagerness. “Believe me, I can’t think of anything I wanna do more than to take you inside and make love to you, but…” Taking a deep breath, Steve glanced up to meet the historical-fiction novelist’s understanding gaze. “I just want tonight to be perfect for you, and I’m afraid that it won’t be.”

(Y/N)’s eyes softened as she cupped his face between her hands and gently stroked his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. “But don’t you see, sweetheart? It’ll be perfect because I’ll be with you.” Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest as he stared at her in silent admiration. “Oh God, was that too cheesy? I’m-”

Steve’s lips descended onto (Y/N)’s and interrupted her rambling apology; he poured all of his love and lust for her into his kiss, holding her even tighter and reveling in the feeling of her body pressed against his. (Y/N) recovered from her surprise and eagerly reciprocated, deepening their kiss and drawing a breathy moan from him when her fingernails scraped along his scalp as her fingers carded through his hair. When they finally broke apart for some much-needed air, Steve trailed kisses along her cheek and jawline, whispering against her flushed skin, “I want this, (Y/N). I want you.”

“I want you too, Steve,” (Y/N) breathed, tilting her head to the side and drawing him closer as he pressed kisses onto the soft skin of her neck. “I think…oh, sweetheart…I-I think it’s time to take this inside before we traumatize the neighbors.”

With great reluctance, Steve pulled himself away and offered her his hand with a smile. “Lead the way, baby.”

The historical-fiction novelist latched onto his hand and practically dragged him over to the front door; when she dropped his hand to rummage through her purse for her keys, he stood behind her and rested his hands on her waist, biting his lip in amusement when she struggled to unlock the door and cursed under her breath. “You’d better not be laughing at me back there,” She warned without any real anger in her voice as she turned the key in the deadbolt. “Otherwise, this night’ll end before it’s even begun.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior…” The moment the front door swung open, Steve scooped (Y/N) up into his arms with ease, grinning mischievously as she burst into a flurry of surprised giggles. “Mostly.”

“Mmm, I’m counting on it.” Smirking, (Y/N) looped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and Steve lost himself in the blissful feeling of her lips on his as he carried her into the house and kicked the front door closed behind him…

With a satisfied smile on his face, Steve crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, happiness blooming in his chest as he let out a content sigh. It had been the single most enjoyable night of his life – their movements fervent yet oh so gentle as they drew both sinful sounds of pleasure and bursts of shy giggles from one another, their joined hands pressed against the soft sheets as they surrendered themselves over to their desires, their shared passion finally reaching its highest crescendo as a galaxy of stars exploded in Steve’s line of vision and (Y/N) buried her face in his neck to muffle her beautiful gasps – and he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it other than divine. He hadn’t been drunk since 1942 but that night, he was intoxicated by her; her warmth, her softness, her scent, her unconditional love…everything about her drove him beyond madness, clouded his mind in the best way imaginable until only thoughts of her remained. Being with (Y/N) was the closest he’d ever felt to anyone before or after emerging from the ice, the closest he’d ever felt to heaven itself, and the culmination of their most carnal passions only confirmed what he’d known to be true for months: (Y/N) (Y/L/N), his beautiful, intelligent and courageous sunshine, was the love of his life.

Steve glanced over at (Y/N)’s vacant side of the bed and was starting to wonder where she’d gone when he heard the faint sound of his girlfriend singing along to a cheerful ‘60’s Motown song in the kitchen; the smell of maple syrup and pancakes drove any lingering immodest thoughts from his mind as his stomach growled, and he huffed out a quiet laugh before getting up to slip his boxers on and quietly padding down the hallway. When he reached the kitchen, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, a familiar warmth blooming in his chest as he studied his girlfriend from afar.

The historical-fiction novelist hadn’t noticed his presence, too engrossed in flipping pancakes on the griddle and singing along to the lively song that was playing from Sam’s stereo system; she was wrapped in a satin cherry blossom-patterned robe and a cheery smile illuminated her features as she sang, a smile that adorably widened when she flipped a pancake high into the air and successfully caught it on its descent with a plate while she swayed to the upbeat tempo. With the ongoing editing of her second soon-to-be released novel and the added stress of balancing their blossoming relationship with his unpredictable mission schedule, it was good to see her so relaxed and carefree for a change, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a surge of masculine pride for the part he played in her cheerful mood.

“Now this funny feeling has me amazed, don’t know what to do, my head’s in a haze, it’s like a heat wave! Yeah yeah, yeah-” (Y/N) twirled around in a circle and yelped in surprise when she finally noticed Steve, almost dropping the heaping plate of pancakes but quickly stopping herself as she flashed him a sheepish smile. “Um…surprise! It’s no secret that I’m not the best cook in the world, but I do know how to read the instructions on the back of the Krusteaz bag and I figured your super-soldier stomach was in need of sustenance, so I hope that you like pancakes.”

Steve hadn’t woken up with the expectation of getting emotional over a plate of slightly-overdone pancakes but there he was, standing in the messy kitchen with his eyes stinging and a lump forming in his throat as his kindhearted girlfriend beamed at him. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had made him breakfast – or any meal, for that matter – and while he’d always thrived as a caretaker to others and valued his independence, a part of him always wondered what it would feel like to be the one being taken care of for a change. I don’t think I’ll ever have to wonder again, he thought to himself as his smile slowly widened. He crossed the kitchen, his hands gently cupping her cheeks and angling her face upwards to give her a tender kiss, pulling away with great reluctance and finally finding his voice. “I love pancakes. Thank you, sunshine.”

(Y/N)’s eyes softened as she smiled back, and it was clear to see that she understood the implications behind his appreciation. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She handed him the plate and nodded towards the stools at the kitchen counter. “Now, dig in before they get cold while I finish making mine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chuckling, Steve took a seat and began pouring a liberal amount of maple syrup over his pancakes while (Y/N) dolloped more thick batter onto the hot griddle. “So, did you…um, did you have a good night?”

Steve mentally kicked himself for sounding so awkward but his girlfriend thankfully took his discomfort in stride. “I had a fantastic night, actually.” She tipped some coffee into her ‘Professional Bookworm’ mug and slid it across the counter towards him, and Steve caught the apprehension that quickly flashed across her face when her eyes timidly met his. “And you?”

“It was perfect, sunshine. You were perfect,” Steve assured her, his hand reaching across the counter to rest atop hers as he continued. “Trust me, I’m not exaggerating when I say that last night was the best night of my life.”

(Y/N) self-consciously ducked her head at his earnest words and affectionate tone and Steve’s heart swelled at the sight. He started on his breakfast while she finished preparing hers, unable to keep the content smile off his face and unwilling to take his eyes off the historical-fiction novelist as she worked; she seemed to be having a similar dilemma herself, nearly dropping the bottle of orange juice at one point and being forced to rescue a pancake from a charred fate not too long after, all because she’d been distracted by his smiles and heated gaze. When she took a seat beside him at the counter, her bare knee brushed against his and sent a pleasant jolt up his spine, the pleased smirk playing on her lips confirming that she knew exactly what sort of affect she had on him; It took me ninety-seven years, but I finally understand what it means to see heaven on earth, he thought as he smiled contentedly into his coffee mug.

“Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?”

Steve looked up from his pancakes to see an endearingly inquisitive expression gracing his girlfriend’s features. “Of course.”

“When did you finally…seal the deal?” (Y/N) inquired; there was no trace of jealousy in her tone or resentment in her eyes, only innocent curiosity. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I was just wondering whether it happened before or after Project Rebirth.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind answering, sunshine.” Shrugging his shoulders, Steve took another bite of food and downed it with another sip of coffee before answering. “It was after; I’m pretty sure my asthma alone would’ve killed me if I tried doin’ anything like what we did last night before the serum.” She giggled a little at that and he felt himself starting to blush as he continued. “Yeah, it happened while I was on that damn USO tour of America in the summer of ‘43. We’d just finished up a show in Buffalo when one of the chorus girls found me hiding out backstage and asked me if I wanted a drink; from there, one thing led to another and then…” He chuckled to himself. “It was okay, I guess, and Joanie was nice enough but after a few weeks of sneakin’ around with her, I decided that I’d rather just wait for the right partner and we decided to break it off. Besides Joanie, you’re the only other woman I’ve ever gone all the way with.” (Y/N) nodded in understanding and Steve was suddenly filled with a little curiosity himself. “Is it okay to ask about your-?”

“Of course it is, Steve!” The historical-fiction novelist quickly reassured him, resting her hand on his forearm and giving him an encouraging smile. “Two of the best things about the twenty-first century is the rejection of purity culture and the encouragement of open communication within relationships. My first time was during my freshman year of college, with my boyfriend Travis; just as we were getting into it, he smacked his head on the corner of my dresser and had to get four stitches at the E.R., so I suppose you could say that it was a night to remember.”

Steve winced. “Please tell me it got better from there.”

“With Travis? Nope, that asshat dumped me a week later with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, but there were a couple of other guys after him. I dated Kenneth throughout my first year of grad school – he was sweet, but our masters degrees took us in two different directions and we decided to call it quits – and I went on a couple of dates with Marc, a Marine between deployments I met when I went out for drinks with Sam at Barracks Row; we both knew it wasn’t anything serious and while he was a perfect gentleman, I could tell that he was struggling with some personal issues and wasn’t really in the right mindset for a relationship. A couple of months after Marc and I went our separate ways, my dumb-ass roommate decided to try and race Captain America around the National Mall and…” She took another bite of her pancakes and gave him a flirtatious wink. “Well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Steve repeated with a bashful grin that widened as his super-soldier hearing picked up her elevated heartbeat and warming skin.

The two of them enjoyed the rest of their breakfast together, listening to Sam’s Motown CD and chatting about anything and everything that came to their minds. When they finished eating, Steve offered to clean the whole kitchen himself but after a lighthearted debate regarding the unspoken rules of hospitality, he reluctantly agreed to wash the dishes while (Y/N) dried and put them away. The historical-fiction novelist sang along to each song that played without missing a single lyric and Steve even found himself humming along while they worked, smiling to himself as he reveled in the charming domesticity of it all; for the briefest of moments, he allowed his eyes to drift closed and he worked to commit their perfect morning to memory, not wanting to forget a single moment of it. I’d give everything I have if it meant I could spend every morning of the rest of my life like this, he silently admitted to himself, opening his eyes to steal another glance at (Y/N) and finding himself admiring the way she practically glowed under the morning sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window.

After rinsing the last of the soap suds down the drain, Steve switched the faucet off and turned away from the sink. “There, all done. You know, we make a pretty good dishwashing duo-”

Steve’s words were abruptly cut off when (Y/N)’s hands cradled his face and she pulled him close before crashing her lips against his, causing him to grunt in surprise as his hands landed on her waist to stabilize her. The softness of her lips on his coupled with the taste of maple syrup caused Steve’s mind to go blank, and his eyes slid closed in bliss while he returned her tender kiss; his arms wrapped around her waist and when he tugged her closer, she gasped against his lips and he chuckled before kissing her with renewed passion. While one of his arms held her securely against him, his other hand slid up her satin-covered curves and caressed her cheek, her flushed skin nearly scorching the pad of his thumb as it skimmed the length of her cheekbone. With a pleased hum, the historical-fiction novelist buried a hand into his mussed hair, the feel of her nails scratching along his scalp forcing him to suppress his desperate moan; his efforts were immediately dashed when her other hand sneakily found a home at the back of his boxers and playfully squeezed.

“Christ, baby,” Steve groaned against her smiling lips as a spark of desire igniting within him. In an instant, he lifted her up with ease and set her down onto the kitchen island before trailing kisses along the exposed column of her throat, murmuring against her heated skin, “You’re kind of a tease, you know that?”

(Y/N) giggled as his lips latched onto the delicate patch of skin just below her jawline. “It’s not my fault that you’ve got one fine ass, sweetheart. I was simply admiring a masterpiece.”

Reluctantly drawing away from her neck, Steve’s head tilted to the side as he studied his breathless girlfriend, a loving smile spreading across his face that was accompanied by the smallest of head-shakes. “The only masterpiece I see is sittin’ right in front of me, sunshine.” (Y/N) beamed and her eyes shone with tender affection as she leaned forward and kissed the bridge of his nose; Steve’s hands firmly grasped her waist, fingers flexing along the soft satin of her robe when she initiated another passionate kiss and his need for her growing stronger with every caress of her lips.

Before either of them could deepen their kiss, the buzzing of Steve’s cell phone filled the kitchen and abruptly brought them back to reality. (Y/N), nearly panting as she rested her forehead against his and unwound her arms from around his neck, flashed him a dazed sort of smile and nodded. “Go ahead and get that, I’ll just sit here and catch my breath.”

Steve chuckled, giving her another kiss before crossing into the living room to retrieve his crumpled slacks he’d discarded on the floor the night before; fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, his brow furrowed when he saw Natasha’s name appear on the screen and he quickly answered the call. “Nat?”

“Wow, someone sounds a little crabby this morning. Sleepless night?”

Steve’s eyes flicked over to (Y/N), who’d hopped down from the counter and was going along scooping up the trail of clothes that led to her bedroom, and he smiled to himself before answering, “Yeah, something like that. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a lead on Adrien Pullman, one of Rumlow’s mercenary friends; our intel puts him and his crew in a safe house about five miles outside of San Juan.”

“How fresh is this intel?”

“Farm-fresh. It’s your call, Steve, but I don’t know when we’re gonna get another chance like this.”

Leaning against the back of the couch, Steve ran his free hand through his hair as he weighed the situation, ultimately coming to the conclusion that the spy was correct. “All right, we’ll go. Get Sam and Wanda up to speed on Pullman and his crew, and I’ll meet you guys at JBA in an hour.”

“Will-do. Oh, and tell (Y/N) I said hi!”

“I-wait, how’d you know I was with…?”

“I’m a trained spy, Steve; you’ve got that ‘I got laid last night and I’m wasting the morning away basking in the glory of my smoking-hot author girlfriend’ lilt in your voice.” Natasha’s blunt explanation caused Steve to blush and she snickered. “And I’ll bet you anything that you look like an heirloom tomato right now. See you in an hour, and don’t forget to wear protection!”

Steve’s blush darkened as the spy abruptly ended the call, and he tossed his cell phone onto the couch before chuckling at himself; ninety-seven years old and I’m blushing like a goddamn teenager, he silently observed, a smile reluctantly forming on his lips at the absurdity of his circumstances. “Steve?” He glanced up to see (Y/N) standing in front of him, their clothes slung over her arm and a concerned frown on her face. “Everything okay?”

“A last-minute mission to Puerto Rico just came up, and I’ve gotta be at Joint Base Andrews in an hour.” He offered her an apologetic look and reached out to take her free hand. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I was really looking forward to spending the day with you.”

With an understanding smile, the historical-fiction novelist leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss onto his forehead, waiting until his gaze met hers to speak. “Sweetheart, I’m dating Captain America; last-minute missions and cancelled plans are pretty much a given in your profession, and I’d be naïve not to understand that by now. All that matters to me is that after Cap gives ‘em hell out there, Steve Rogers comes home safe to me.”

If Steve hadn’t been leaning against the back of the couch, his girlfriend’s sweet sincerity and the kindhearted gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes would’ve instantly made him go weak at the knees; instead, he brought their joined hands up to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss onto her knuckles before breaking out into a dopey smile. “You’re heaven-sent, you know that?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was thinking about you,” (Y/N) softly replied, kissing the bridge of his nose and giggling when his face scrunched up at the ticklish sensation. “C’mon, super-soldier, I’ll drive you to Joint Base Andrews after we take a shower.”

Steve’s brow shot up in surprise. “We?”

“I, um…well, yes? Y-You know, you’re right, that was a little presumptuous of me, just forget I said anything-”

(Y/N)’s anxious rambling was cut off when Steve surged forward and captured her lips in a searing kiss; the pile of clothes were unceremoniously dropped onto the ground and her arms wrapped around his neck as she returned his kiss with equal enthusiasm. When a lack of air forced them apart, Steve smirked roguishly at (Y/N) as she worked on catching her breath. “I’ve never showered with a beautiful dame before, but I’ve always wanted to.”

The historical-fiction novelist hummed in playful interest. “Is that so? Well, we should really remedy that, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve agreed and with a teasing grin, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bathroom while their lips pressing together in a ravenous kiss.

Arriving at Joint Base Andrews over fifteen minutes late, Steve said his goodbyes to (Y/N) at the main gate and jogged across the tarmac to the Quinjet, where Natasha and Sam were impatiently waiting on the aircraft’s extended ramp and a bored Wanda was levitating his vibranium shield into the air with her powers. Sam ribbed him for his uncharacteristic tardiness, eying the fading love bite on his neck with a mixture of pride and apprehension, his sibling-like relationship with (Y/N) no doubt conflicting with his happiness for him, and Wanda handed over his shield before reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a ten dollar bill, which Natasha smugly accepted as they trooped up the ramp. Steve was unfazed by his teammates’ behavior, entirely consumed with thoughts of (Y/N) and the passion-filled morning they’d shared; it looks like we’ve created a much more pleasurable morning routine to stick to, he smiled to himself, changing into his uniform and whistling a light-hearted tune all the while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I've tried writing smut several times over the years, and I've pretty much accepted that this is as close as I'll ever get to giving you guys spice lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Stumblin’ In Book VI: “Endgame” Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @fanficfandomlove @momc95 @savedbystyle @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @crowleysqueenofhell @mary1raven @groovy-lady @ljej95 @toostrangerkid @prettysbliss

[arlana-likes-to-write]

FYI. The goal is to post Part 2 of this lovely story tomorrow but I reserve the right to post it on Saturday so I don't rush it.

This story is going to be over 11k. Get ready!

Reunited

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

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

Word count: 2.3k 

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

Keep reading

[autumnistic-danmei]

Steve, admiring Bucky from a distance: He could end my life any time and I’d thank him.

Natasha, tired of his oblivious pining: I’d thank him too.

[avengerscompound]

Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff Loki: Agent of Asgard (2014) #1