#nothing like a professional talking passionately about their field.... dreamy sigh

[semlposting]

i need weatherbox carnally

[wolf-555-writer]

Secrets To Keep

A little somethin’ I wrote. Enjoy :)

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: There are enough secrets within SHIELD. It’s built on secrecy. But some are more important to be kept than others. For the sake of keeping your job and your fellow redheaded Agent’s job. Can you keep a secret?

Word Count: 2,937

   A firm knock on one of the neutral white doors inside a long, monotonous corridor. Natasha opens. “Hello Agent Romanoff”, a stern voice speaks. She nods curtly as a gesture of greeting. “I’m here for the- uh, mission prep”. Scanning the hallway first, the Agent walks inside as Natasha makes room by stepping back and opening the door further. She closes it immediately after. A black-greyish jacket with a SHIELD logo on its back is hanging on a chair and a pair of widow bites are neatly placed on a wooden desk next to a thigh holster holding a Glock 26. The blinds of the two large windows are half closed. Yet, a small amount of sun rays still manage to pass through which ensure just enough light to see the most beautiful woman in front of you with ease.

“Seriously, was that the best you could do? ‘Mission prep’?”. Visibly hurt by her mocking comment you scoff. “Sorry, okay. I’m not the master spy here”, shrugging your shoulders, “I’m just a simple agent. Besides, I had other things on my mind”. A perky grin appears and Natasha responds, “Hmm, I wonder what that might be…”. Without hesitation she moves closer and kisses you on the lips as her hands make their way to the back of your neck smoothly. Arms wrapped around her waist tightly, you press her body against yours as if you hadn’t felt her in ages. After your lips parted, you assure her, “Next time I'll think of something better, okay”. And the next time, and the next time after that… Thinking back to what Natasha had said, “SHIELD is basically all about keeping secrets. Everyone has them here, so what difference would one more make?”. She was obviously right. Not about the difference it would make, though. Because when it gets out, serious consequences will follow. Without a doubt. But those worries quickly fade due to the current sight in front of you. Natasha has taken off her shirt, showing her lean waist and well developed muscles. She rests her arms on your shoulders and raises her eyebrows. “Phone?”, is the only word that comes out. “Oof, that just hurts. Simple agent or not, I ain't no amateur Nat. I left it in my locker at the training facility. You?”. She grins, “It's turned off”, and moves her eyes to the desk where you see the piece of tech behind her arsenal of weapons. Can’t be too careful.

Her lips touch yours again, but this time with more passion and desire. She pulls on your shirt as it lifts up, exposing the skin on your lower back. Her hands feel warm and soft now that they make their way upwards, sending ripples of pure joy through your entire body. The heated kissing is interrupted by your shirt that needs to pass. The item of clothing is tossed away quickly, ending next to Natasha’s near identical one. She starts to undress further while you sit on the edge of the bed to loosen the laces of the combat boots. Cocking an eyebrow at the redhead. “See something you like, Romanoff?”, you tease, seeing Natasha glance at you while she bites her lip. “Oh, I see a lot that I like…”. Not getting enough time from the redhead to remove your pants as it’s still dangling around your knees when you hit the soft mattress. You try to wiggle your legs in a way that the thick slacks come off and it lands on the floor beside the bed. Sensing the warmth and weight of Natasha’s body on yours, you let out a long breath and close your eyes. Her lips touch the skin on your neck, your chest and you feel her red hair tickle while she hovers over. Opening your eyes, you stare at her. Both your hands on her hips while she sits upright on top of you. She runs her left hand through her hair to get it out of her field of vision. A cheeky grin forms at the corner of her mouth as her intense green eyes stare down at the person underneath her. Eyes still locked on the woman on top of you, wanting to never lose sight of her. She leaves you completely breathless. Everytime. Over and over again.

How in the world did I get so damn lucky?

Natasha’s lovely voice snaps you out of dreamy thought. “So, how was your day?”. “Come on Nat”, you look away and sigh, “You for real? You wanna talk about that right now?”. “Well, yes, I’m just interested in your daily activities, or stuff that bothers you. That’s no crime, is it?”. Meanwhile playfully drawing with the tip of her index finger over the muscles in your abdomen that have become sore from the killer workout earlier. She sure as hell knows how to get your blood pumping. And especially, how to make you wait. “Of course not. I would happily tell you all about that. But… I don’t know how much time we have now, so-”. At that imperative statement, intensified by your sad puppy eyes, she places both hands on the pillow, each one beside your head, giving you an exclusive view. “You got no patience at all, you know that don’t you”. Your hands slowly start to move up her waist, towards one of the only two pieces of clothing she’s still wearing. “Yeah, I’ve been told it’s one of my many charming qualities. But I mean…”, letting your eyes drift away along her fine features, “can you blame me?”. She laughs, “Just shut up”. Her lips centimeters away from yours, you can almost taste that addictive sweetness again, a wide smile present on your face. Then she stops and freezes. By now you've surely waited long enough, right? It’s not funny anymore. You shake your head confused and cease the unstrapping of underwear. “What’s wrong?”

“Romanoff? I know you're there”, followed by a fist banging on the door. “Shit”. “Is that-”. “Shhh”. Natasha grabs her pants and shirt and slips them on in seconds. Never seen anyone dress that fast before. While you stay quiet, pulling the sheets to cover your almost naked body and to hide your presence, Natasha opens the door just a crack. “Yes?”. “Did I interrupt someth-”. “What do you want Barton?”, Romanoff interjects.

“We’re expected for an emergency briefing. Coulson called us in. Didn’t you check your phone?”. Natasha ignores his last remark and replies, “Ok, I’ll be right there. Give me a couple seconds to get ready and get my gear. You go ahead, see you there Barton”. Almost back to complete privacy, closing the limited air gap, when Natasha’s movement is countered. Barton presses up against the door with force which is clearly noticeable in his voice. “And what about (Y/N)?”. “Yeah, what about (Y/N)?”. “Do you know where she is? She’s also needed and doesn’t answer her phone too. Quite a coincide-”. “Nope. Just check the training facility, she's probably there. See you in the briefing room”, and with a final, powerful push she shuts the door in his face.

A short lean against the doorframe and a muffled sigh that couldn’t possibly be described as relaxing turns into instant action. Natasha strides to the desk with two long paces. “Get up, we gotta move”. The rule seemed obvious at the time. She grabs her phone and can't help but think that it wasn’t the smartest move. That maybe the two of you have been too careful. You climb out of the bed and pick up the black pants of your SHIELD uniform to put it on. “Does he know?”, you ask, reaching for the shirt on the floor while pulling the pants up. “No he doesn’t, but hurry. He’s looking for you and we can’t be late (Y/N). Not again”. Noticing a pinch of distress in between the lines. But mostly annoyance caused by Barton showing up in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“I knew it!”, a voice from the hallway shouts out. Natasha dashes to the door and swings it open, causing Barton to almost fall over from leaning against it. Apparently still in the wrong place. He looks at you with wide eyes as you’re busy with putting on the shirt in haste and switches to Natasha again. “I knew it”, he repeats with less volume and a grin reaching from ear to ear.

Natasha stays quiet, staring at Barton with a piercing gaze that screams nothing good. “What the hell man”, you call out as you’ve joined Natasha, swiftly tucking the shirt in to give a more professional appearance. Not that it matters anymore, because the damage is already done. At least you're fully dressed again - finally.

“We need to go”, Romanoff states blankly and marches off. Without saying another word about what just happened, you both follow the redhead. An awkward silence hanging around the three agents now that Barton managed to squeeze himself in between Natasha and you. She feels a pair of eyes trained on her and sighs as she eventually ends the absence of sound.  

“Just-”, she raises her arms, agitated by the turn of recent events, but drops them just as fast as a sign of surrender. “Keep it quiet okay. I’d like to stay in SHIELD, keep my job”. “Yeah, and me too”, you add firmly. Worries rising to the surface once more. 

“I would never screw you over like that, Nat. You know me. (Y/L/N) here on the other hand…”, motioning at you with his thumb, “I’m guessing gets enough screwing”, he snickers. “You think you’re very funny, don’t you Barton”, you say annoyed, glancing at him with narrowed eyes. “On occasion, yes”. “Jokes aside, I’m dead serious, Clint”, Natasha expresses. He better not make another joke, you recommend inside your head. For his own sake, judging by Natasha's, well, everything. “I know, Nat”. He gives her a small nod. “My lips are sealed. You can trust me”. A short, reassuring smile appears on Natasha’s features. Confirmed what she already knows. Of course she can trust him. 

En route to the briefing room, in a more crowded hallway now with Barton leading the way when he gazes over his shoulder. “So… how long has ‘this’ been a thing?”, he asks, pointing his finger to connect the two of you. With an inquiring look in his eyes, unable for you to see, he rubs his chin as if buried in deep thought. After a few seconds of intense thinking Barton turns around. “I’d say somewhere after that covert mission in Berlin two weeks ago. Probably needed to share one room, with only one bed. No doubt. It always starts like that. Always”. You and Natasha exchange a look. She chuckles lightly. A suggestive smirk on your face when you respond, “This ‘thing’ has been going on a lot longer. But Berlin was much fun, I’ll give you that”. The disbelief in his eyes made Natasha add, with a quick wink, “Let’s just say we’re good at keeping a secret.”

Barely recovered from all the new information Barton received this afternoon he notes, “But now it’s like, our little secret, isn’t it”. At these words Natasha shoots you a glance. One you recognize all too well. “No, we ain’t gonna do that”. “Admit it, it would make it a lot easier”, she whispers with clenched teeth. “No no, way too messy. I gotta stop you there Nat, not a good idea. This is your assassin brain talking”. “Too messy?”, she scoffs. “Do you even know me? I've got my ways (Y/N), you don't even want to know...”. “True. I don't. Ever”. Even though she has dropped her reinforced steel walls around you, it still remains a mystery what goes on in that head of hers. Maybe for the best.

“What you guys talking about?”, Barton questions as he stops to open the two glass doors blocking the current path. “Uh, nothing. Hope we’re not too late”, you quickly cover and all enter. Standing at the other end of the circular conference table, Coulson looks up from the file he’s holding and flatly states, “Agents, you're late. Close the door. Quickly. We have an important mission to prepare for.”

“Mission prep, huh”, Natasha repeats while she eyes you. Shut up, you mouth to the agent in question. You'll have to do what you've been doing for a while now. With success, fortunately. Flip the switch and be an agent again. Same goes for Natasha. Be each other's colleagues, and just that. How long will we be able to keep this up? You shortly look at the Russian spy. How long will I be able to keep this up? To hide it, you rethink as Coulson's words fly past you. One thing's for sure, whatever happens, I won't ever regret the time spent with this amazing woman, with whom I've secretly fallen in love with…

BONUS: The concise, but clear briefing finished rapidly and you march towards one of the quinjets that’s ready for takeoff. The gear needed for the assignment already packed inside. Clearly a serious matter of urgency behind it, you reckon, suddenly starting to feel guilty about your lateness. You pinch your shirt awkwardly, pulling it down and square your shoulders. Something’s off. Coulson is leading the way and in the distance you spot some other agents waiting on the aircraft, all geared-up. Not like Barton, Romanoff and you. Natasha and Clint are walking in front of you, just chatting, completely relaxed. Not like you. “Hey, pssst”. You tap Natasha’s shoulder. She turns her head over the spot you’ve touched with an expression that reads, what? “Just- come over here”, you signal with your hand as unseen as possible. She slows her pace. “What is it?”. “I think I’m wearing the wrong shirt”. “What do you mean wrong shirt? We have to gear-up on route. Did you already forget what Coulson said to us minutes ago?”. She laughs, but you can’t seem to share it with her. “Well, this is not mine, that’s what I’m saying”. You grab a piece of fabric of the dark shirt to show. Now that Natasha understands what you really mean, she’s trying her best to keep herself from bursting into laughter. “That explains why mine is a little more ‘loose’”. “And mine too tight…”, you grunt. “Can't we like, switch or something?”. “When do you honestly think we can do that?”, she voices discreetly, both stepping on the tailgate of the plane. “I don’t know, maybe-”. “Just accept it for now”. “But-”. “We’ll swap shirts after the mission, okay”. A low growl escapes your mouth. She’s right, you have no other choice at the moment. There’s no time. You grab the gear reluctantly while dropping your shoulders and sigh. Perhaps a little too loud.

“Everything alright, Agent (Y/L/N)?”. Coulson’s sudden presence behind you surprised you and with one quick movement you turn around, a poker-faced expression. “Yes sir, all fine”, you lie. Probably for the best, all things considered. Or not? “Well- actually, it’s not fine”. You reconsider. Should I tell? I’m sick of the secrets. But I can’t, I really can’t. I know damn well what the consequences are... “Sir”, you begin, scraping your throat. The Agent in charge of the operation waiting patiently for the words that are about to be spoken. “I would like to apologize for being late to the briefing earlier”. “Oh, it's all cleared up. Just don't let it happen again Agent (Y/L/N)”. “How so?”. “Agent Barton explained the situation”. Did he now? Feeling a slight panic, but mostly anger boiling inside your stomach. “Sir, just out of interest, what did he tell? To make sure he isn’t covering for my very own mistake. The truth is more important”. Except in this case of course. “He told me that you were with Agent Romanoff”. Not making it better Barton… The idea formed by a certain redhead's assassin brain doesn’t sound so bad anymore. “Did he also say what we were doing?”. “I’m not sure why you want to know all this, but he said Agent Romanoff and you were training in close-quarters combat. Correct?”. We were surely close, very close, though not a lot of combat involved… “Almost sir, we were actually training our knife-fighting skills. Don’t want to be stabbed in the back by surprise”. Shooting a quick glance at Barton, who returns a way too excited smile your way. “Usually I take my phone with me on the mat, but this time I left it in the locker”. Technically not a lie, one of the few truths to your story. “Luckily Agent Barton was there to bring you and Agent Romanoff in”. “Yes he was”, you agree, trying to sound as neutral as possible. Coulson continues. “I haven’t had the time to tell, but Agent Romanoff and you did an excellent job in Berlin a couple weeks back”. “Thank you sir. I thought so too, if I may say”. Replaying some images of that mission in your mind, but definitely some other scenery than to what Coulson is referring to. You buckle up and hear him speak. “Agents, last mission briefing in 30, just before we’ll touch down. Be ready”. Wishing you could go back to Nat’s room, the moment just before Barton ruined all the fun, and without this cramped shirt on. Actually, without any clothing on. You sigh once again. This is going to be a long day…