#somehow giving natasha romanoff

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

[redroomreflections]

Let's Make A Movie

Natasha Romanoff xfem!reader

The Loud House Universe

The one where they make a tape ;)

Warnings: bondage, strap use, penetration, things only married couples do of course /s ;)

w/c: 2.9k

Making a sex tape was never on your list of things to do. It's just one of those ideas that fell into your lap. The idea of being able to watch and replay your time with Natasha became more enticing the more you thought about it. When you brought it up to her she'd been weary of your requests but on board. She had stipulations though. You couldn't show her face, and it could only be viewed in the bedroom. That was all well and fine. If anything, those two rules were a turn-on. Oh, and she wanted to top you.

It couldn't be a manufactured moment. It needed to be organic and real. It had to be raw and unhinged.

So, you waited. It didn't take long. Your sex life was great so it wasn't like you had to wait for her to initiate anything. The opportunity presented itself within a month. You were in the tower this time, the high-security building feeling more private than your own apartment somehow. You had been in the midst of a heavy makeout session when she reached for the camcorder. You were a little embarrassed by how fast you'd set up the camera but it had paid off.

"Is it recording?"

"Uh-huh."

Natasha hummed, taking the camera from your hands and moving away to get the right angle.

"You have a minute to get naked, baby," She teased.

"What happens if I don't?"

"Then I don't get to fuck you and you don't get to fuck me"

That was an empty threat, she would let you fuck her either way. Still, you complied and stripped, the cool air of the room making your nipples perk.

"On the bed," She commanded.

You moved to lay back on the bed, looking up at her with anticipation. You were already wet, pussy clenching at the sight of her. knowing that the camera was there somehow added to your heightened senses.

She was dressed down in a tank top and underwear, and her hair was wild. Her makeup had smudged slightly, her lips swollen from kissing. Her green eyes looked black, her pupils blown. She was beautiful. She set the camera down and crawled on the bed, kneeling over. She stroked your neck with one hand, managing to keep her balance, as she pulled you in for another kiss. You could taste the vodka on her tongue.

Her kisses were aggressive and possessive. She kissed you like it was her only chance. Like the world would end in a second. Like it was her last meal. Her hand gripped the side of your face as her other moved down to play with your nipples. it would be a lie to say you weren't already wound up. Natasha kneaded and pinched, noting how your kisses became sloppier as you struggled to breathe through her ministrations. She gave your nipple one last tug before traveling further down, running her fingers along your ribs, then your hip bones, finally dipping a single digit into your dripping heat with no warning.

"Shit, Nat," You whined, head falling back onto the pillows.

"God, baby. You're so wet already."

Natasha was the most observant woman you'd ever met. She could tell if your day was off or if something was bothering you with just one look. The same skills translated to the bedroom, or at least, the porn studio. You smiled in your head at the inside joke.

"What's funny?" She asked as she took her finger from your pussy, collecting your juices, before swirling it over your nipple.

"Nothing. You're just driving me crazy."

"Good." She said before dipping her head to take your nipple into her mouth. She flicked the nub with her tongue before biting down softly.

"Fuck," You hissed, bucking your hips up into her.

"Easy, sweetheart. We're gonna take our time tonight."

The promise of a drawn-out night made you clench. She chuckled, her breath tickling your breast. She switched breasts, sucking the other nipple into her mouth. She wanted to tease you. Wanted to see how needy she could make you. It was hard for her to not give in and fuck you herself. She knew she'd cave eventually.

"Mmm," You moaned, your hand going to the back of her head to get her closer. She suckled your breasts, licking, biting, and pulling at them. By the time she was done, they were hard and swollen.

She moved her head lower, licking your skin until she got to your belly button. You were a mess of arousal and her spit, your pussy aching for her attention.

"You want my mouth?" She asked, lips trailing even lower.

"Yes."

"Where? Be specific."

"I want your mouth on my pussy."

"I think I have other ideas," She said.

You were confused at first until she began to move her mouth up again. Your disappointment must've been evident because she chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll give you what you need. But not yet. You can handle a little more teasing, can't you?"

You nodded and she grinned, "That's what I thought." She leaned over to the nightstand, rummaging through it before pulling out a few items.

"You're tying me up?" You questioned.

"Only for a little bit."

She moved the pillow you'd been leaning against, moving it off to the side.

"Hands up," She ordered.

You followed her directions, lifting your arms above your head. She bound your hands together, securing them to the headboard.

"Comfy?"

"Yeah,"

She kissed you again, softer than the previous ones. It was tender and loving. When she pulled away, her expression was one of pure adoration.

"What do you say, if you need to stop?"

"Red."

"Good girl."

Natasha's fingers trailed down the valley of your chest and stomach, stopping just shy of your throbbing pussy. She spread your legs and positioned herself between them. She lowered her head to your left thigh, peppering it with kisses. Then she nipped at the flesh.

"Ow!" You squeaked.

She did the same to the other thigh. Then the next. The bites got harder each time. Soon enough, there was a ring of teeth marks on your thighs. They stung, and you were sure they'd leave bruises.

"You're marking me up, Tasha."

"I know," She said. She moved down to your thighs and positioned them so that you were open just enough to place the vibrator between them. Then she tied your ankles.

"Are you gonna fuck me with that thing?"

"Yes. But I'm not done yet."

"Not done with what?"

"With you," She answered.

She placed the vibrator on the first setting and held it against your pussy, making sure to press it against your clit. The feeling made you gasp. She moved the toy up and down, slowly.

"Wait, wait, Nat, fuck, wait," You begged. She had the decency to wait.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine it's just..." You breathed.

She removed the toy and kissed the side of your head.

"Thank you," You sighed.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. Not yet."

"Okay,"

Natasha kissed the corner of your mouth. It was so innocent. She kissed your cheeks, and then your forehead, and the tip of your nose. Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke, "I'll try to be easy. But I'm not promising anything."

"Okay,"

She pressed the toy against your clit again. The vibrations were soft, but you were already sensitive.

"Oh God," You groaned.

"Too much?"

"No, keep going,"

Natasha moved the toy from your clit to your entrance. She pressed the toy inside you. The stretch was nice and you clenched around the object.

"Shit," You arched your back. With your legs and feet bound you couldn't move as much as you wanted. She removed the toy to place it at your clit again, readjusting your hips, before allowing the vibrator to rest there. Your hips twitched.

"Fuck,"

"Good?"

"Mmmhm," You nodded.

She kept the vibrator at a slow pace, watching as your eyes fluttered. She loved seeing you like this. Helpless.

"You look so pretty, baby,"

You were too busy concentrating on the pleasurable sensations to respond.

She reached over to the nightstand, taking the camcorder in her hand to get a closer look. Her rule of keeping your faces out of it had gone out of the window. She wanted to capture everything about you that made you sexy.

"Open your eyes," She whispered.

You listened, opening your eyes and staring up at her. Her hair was mussed and her lips were plump and shiny. Her breasts heaved with every breath she took.

"You're so beautiful," You told her.

She blushed, smiling, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen,"

"Sweet talker," She said. She directed the camcorder to your face, focusing on your lips. Then she directed it to your breasts hard and shiny with her saliva, the toy, and the apex of your thighs.

"How are you doing?"

"Feels good, Tasha,"

"You look like you're having a good time,"

Your only response was a nod.

"Can I go harder?"

"Please."

She turned the vibrator up. The sensation was overwhelming. Your toes curled. You didn't know what to focus on. The toy, her stare, or the camera.

"Jesus, Tasha," You cursed. The sensations felt overwhelming yet so damn good.

"How many times do you think I can make you cum?" She asked.

"Fuck, Tasha. I-I don't know,"

"I think I can get at least three."

"Shit, I-" You couldn't finish your thought, the orgasm hitting you out of nowhere. You hadn't realized how close you were.

"Oh fuck, Tasha." You moaned. Your thighs tried to close but they were tied down, your pussy pulsed, and you arched your back, the toy only pressing into your clit the more you bore down.

"God, look at you," Natasha murmured.

When the pleasure finally subsided, you were a panting mess. You couldn't speak, not that you could even if you tried.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"Did you like that?"

"Mmm."

"You came so hard, baby." She placed the camera down again. "Can you give me another one?" She pushed the toy back to your entrance, thrusting it into you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nat." You were hypersensitive, but the pleasure was worth the ache.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little,"

"I can stop,"

"No, please don't,"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please,"

"Good girl," She praised.

Natasha was rough, her thrusts unrelenting. She was focused on nothing else but the way you moaned and squirmed, the way you cried out. Her nails scraped against your belly, digging into your sides.

"Fuuuuck," You keened.

"God, you're so perfect, baby."

You couldn't even respond, you were too consumed with the ecstasy. She reached for the camera again, recording your flushed and sweaty face.

"I love you," She told you.

"L-love y-you too," You gasped.

"I'm gonna make you cum again. Are you ready?"

"Yeah,"

She thrust the toy in and out of you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," You chanted. Your thighs trembled and your hips jerked, but she kept them in place with her free hand.

"Open your legs," She demanded as you struggled against your restraints. You did as told and she repositioned the toy. She turned it up to the highest setting.

"Tasha, Tasha, oh God,"

"Just let go," She urged.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your jaw fell open. Natasha's voice was distant as the blood pounded in your ears. It was too much.

"I-I-I'm gon-gonna,"

"Go ahead, baby."

You came. Your vision went white, your body seized, and you cried out.

"Shit, baby," Natasha cursed.

The waves of pleasure hit you again and again. It felt like an eternity before the high began to fade. She allowed you to come down this time, watching as your chest heaved, before she placed the camera down again.

"What's your color?"

"G-green."

"Good. Can I get another one? I'll be gentle."

You were exhausted, but the thought of her bringing you to another climax was too tempting.

"Yes,"

Natasha removed the toy from your entrance. You felt empty. She crawled over you, straddling you, reaching down to expose her clit. She positioned herself just above your pelvis bone.

"Ready?"

"Mmmhm,"

She rubbed her clit against you, grinding her hips. It wasn't about getting you off this time. She needed to chase her own orgasm. And, well, you had to admit that it felt really fucking good.

"F-fuck," Natasha moaned. Oh, how you wished you could touch her. She spread her wetness over you, her juices mingling with yours, as she dripped.

"You feel so good, baby,"

Her hips jerked and stuttered, and you could tell she was close. She placed her hands on your shoulders, effectively pinning you down, as she used you for her pleasure. She rutted against you harder, faster, her clit catching the right spot, and she came.

"Shit," She gasped. Her mouth was parted, her head falling back. She rode out her orgasm before her body collapsed. She buried her face in your neck, still breathing heavily.

"You're amazing," You praised, "So good. So pretty."

Natasha smiled, kissing your shoulder, before laying her head on you.

"Are you going to untie me now?" You asked.

"In a minute." She breathed. It was almost like something else entirely came over her. "You're like my doll." She mused.

"Am I?"

"Mmm, my favorite plaything." She said. "I could just fuck you all night if I wanted. Make you come until you beg me to stop." She leaned up, planting a kiss against your lips. Then another one. And another.

"I would let you, if you wanted,"

"That's good. Cause I'm not done." She said, "I'll never be done with you. You're mine."

"I am," You agreed. She reached up to untie you, massaging your wrists.

"Turn over," She demanded.

You were exhausted.

"It'll feel good. I promise."

You rolled over onto your stomach.

"Are you okay?"

"Green,"

"Good,"

Natasha positioned her body against yours, her breasts resting on your back.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," She whispered. You could tell by her fumbling around that she'd gotten the strap. A rare occasion for her to wear it. You guess for your sex tape it would be appropriate.

For the next few minutes, Natasha treated you like a doll. She used her strength to position you, your face resting against the pillows, as she forced you to arch with your ass in the air, perfectly ready for her. She rubbed the toy against your wet slit.

"Ready, baby?"

"Fuck, please."

"Mmm, that's a good girl."

Natasha thrust into you. You were a bit overstimulated. Her thrusts were rough and the angle allowed her to hit deeper. You didn't know if you'd be able to handle it. But she promised you would feel good. You trusted her.

"Fuck," She cursed, "You're so tight, sweetheart."

"Tasha,"

"I got you."

She thrust harder. Faster. One of her hands moved to grip your hip, the other tangling in your hair.

"Shit, shit, shit," You whined. The slight ache had turned into something new. You felt so full and hot. The pleasure was so intense that you could feel it at your fingertips.

"You take me so good, baby. So fucking good."

"Fuck,"

"You look so beautiful, all tied up and fucked out,"

"Mm,"

She opened your ass cheeks, never stopping her thrusting but to spit on the puckered hole.

"Tasha,"

"Shh, I'm taking care of you,"

Natasha's finger probed the area before pushing in. The feeling was new. Her thrusting became softer and the pace slowed but never stopped.

"Does it feel good?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so good, Tasha. Oh, fuck."

"I knew you could handle it,"

She used her other hand to take control of your hips, all you could do was grab onto the sheets, as you laid open-mouthed.

"I'm gonna make you cum again."

"Yes,"

"Yes what?"

"Make me cum. Please."

Natasha leaned down to rest against your back. Her breath was hot and the added weight made you feel pinned. It was the last push you needed. Your body seized and you cried out. Your eyes fluttered, but she didn't stop.

"Tasha, wait, it's-"

"It's okay. I'm not done."

The pleasure was blinding. It hurt. But it was the most satisfying pain. Natasha pulled her finger out, changing hands and reaching down to rub your clit.

"Shit, fuck,"

"Good?"

"Mmhm,"

"Are you going to cum again?"

"Mm, I can't."

"You can," She insisted.

Her movements were sloppy, and you were sure the bed would collapse soon.

"Cum for me," She begged.

"Fuck, Nat, oh God, I-I'm-I'm-fuck, fuck,"

You came. Your orgasm is more intense this time. Your hips moved of their own accord, not knowing whether to push her away or keep her close. Natasha's thrust never faltered.

"One more, sweetheart. Come on."

"Tasha," You sobbed, "I can't,"

"Yes, you can,"

Her thrusts got slower, shallower.

"Breathe," She said, leaning over to whisper in your ear. Her thrusts slowed. She ground into your ass, drilling the cock into you, while her fingers toyed with your clit.

"That's it, baby. Just let go."

Your body went rigid, and a scream caught in your throat, as the orgasm ripped through you. You collapsed. Your legs gave out. You couldn't think. Natasha fucked you through it as she sweet-talked you.

"I know baby," She said. "I know your pussy feels so good right now. It's what you needed." She eventually slowed her hips.

"Thank you," You slurred, barely able to stay awake.

"No, thank you," She laughed.

Natasha pulled the cock out, undoing your restraints.

"You were so perfect."

"I feel drunk." You sighed. She leaned over to kiss your back, rubbing your ass cheeks, and pressing her thumb against your hole. She wanted more but she knew tonight this was your limit.

"Tasha,"

"I love you."

"Love you, too,"

(if you know how many times Natasha made R cum you get a cookie)

[bellaveux]

Helloo!! can i ask you a fic where reader is obssesed with cooking/baking and is really good at it and nat loves to eat whatever reader gives to her, super fluff! I just love the way someone can mix some things together and make it taste good tho i'm not able to :P

taste of home | n. romanoff x fem!reader

genre: fluff

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: natasha loves your cooking, especially when it’s made just for her. after being away on a mission, she finds herself missing not just your food, but you in general—and everything that comes with being home.

content warnings: fluff, kissing, soft!natasha, reader is good at cooking but nat will probably start a fire lol

word count: 2.4k

Natasha was never really one for cooking. She was great at a lot of things—following orders, handling high-pressure situations, even outsmarting some of the most dangerous people in the world—but somehow, cooking always felt like it required a kind of patience she didn’t have. Following instructions? Sure. That part was easy. But there was something about the process, the time it took, the attention to detail that seemed to escape her. It wasn’t that she didn’t try, but everything she made always came out either too bland or a little burnt. Even the simplest meals seemed to mock her, reminding her that not everything could be solved with precision and efficiency. She found herself more often than not reaching for a jar of peanut butter, slathering it on some bread, and then calling it dinner. It was easier that way—quick, no mess, no stress.

But then there was you. You made cooking look like second nature, your hands moving with a kind of ease Natasha envied. Your meals were homemade, warm, and full of flavor, and every bite left Natasha wondering how something so simple could taste so perfect. It was one of the many things she loved about coming home—knowing that you would have something on the stove or in the oven, filling the apartment with a warmth that Natasha had never really known before.

She had long grown accustomed to the food she encountered on missions or during her travels—unremarkable meals in sterile hotels or bland, quickly prepared rations. The food rarely satisfied her; it was functional at best, a means to an end rather than something to be enjoyed. She could eat it, of course, but it never brought her the kind of comfort she craved. It was always your cooking that had spoiled her palate for anything else.

When Natasha found herself hungry and miles away from home, away from the large apartment you shared with her, she would think of you, and it was like a switch would flip. The image of you standing by the stove, a warm promise of something delicious, would fill her with an eager joy that made the waiting almost unbearable. In those moments, she would dream of coming home, of the way you would smile at her, greeting her with a gentle kiss, as you stirred a pot or slid a dish into the oven, the kitchen filling with the rich, inviting aromas of a meal made with love. It was a small, comforting certainty that awaited her after each mission.

Natasha found something inexplicably thrilling about watching you cook. It wasn’t just the delicious meal you made for her that excited her—it was the sight of you looking so beautiful, the way you moved effortlessly around the kitchen, lost in your own world. It was endearing. She’d often stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a small smile, just observing, feeling a flutter of warmth in her chest. Your delicate brow furrowed as you tasted and adjusted seasonings, your hands deftly working with ingredients. She always finds it hard to resist the urge to come up behind you, wrap her arms around your waist, litter kisses against your shoulders, listening to your laugh.

Steve glanced over at Natasha, noticing the faint, almost imperceptible smile playing at her lips. They were both sitting in the Quinjet, the low hum of the engines filling the quiet space as they cruised back home after a grueling two-week mission overseas. He hadn’t seen Natasha this relaxed in a while, and he certainly didn’t expect to catch her lost in thought, eyes soft, her usual sharp focus dulled into something more distant.

“What’s got you smiling?” Steve asked, his voice breaking the silence.

Natasha blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, her smile fading just slightly as she looked over at him. She shrugged, trying to play it off, but Steve knew her better than that.

“Nothing,” she said, but there was a lightness in her voice that didn’t match her usual tone after missions.

Steve raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “Right. I’ve never seen you smile after two weeks of dealing with mercenaries and sleeping in freezing bunkers.”

Natasha couldn’t help but smile a little wider at that, shaking her head. She glanced down at her hands, fingers brushing the edge of the seat. Her mind was drifting to you, as always. Just the thought of walking into their apartment and seeing you there, warm and welcoming, was enough to make her feel like she could breathe again. She thought about you standing in the kitchen, an apron tied loosely around your waist, cooking something that would inevitably taste better than anything Natasha had eaten on the mission.

“I’m just... thinking about home,” Natasha finally said, her voice softer now, a warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of you waiting for her.

He grinned knowingly at Natasha’s response, his tone teasing as he leaned forward a little. “Yeah? Got someone waiting for you?”

A faint heat rose to her cheeks, though she masked it quickly, rolling her eyes at his question. “Something like that,” she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward again.

Steve laughed softly. “You don’t have to hide it, you know. I think it’s nice. You deserve something—someone—good to come home to.” His voice was genuine, and when she looked up at him, she could see the sincerity in his eyes. It meant a lot coming from Steve.

“Yeah,” Natasha murmured, her mind drifting back to the image of you back in the apartment. There was something grounding about knowing she had someone to come home to, someone who made the hard world that surrounded her a little softer. Her smile deepened at the thought, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee. “I guess I’m pretty lucky.”

Steve glanced at Natasha, his smile lingering for a moment before his gaze shifted out the window. The horizon stretched before them, the compound slowly coming into view, nestled miles away. He watched it quietly for a moment, the soft hum of the Quinjet filling the air.

Natasha leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms above her head with a sigh. "I’m also pretty excited to eat something that’s not the stale food they pack us for these missions." She wrinkled her nose, thinking about the bland, vacuum-sealed meals they'd had for the past two weeks. "If I have to eat another energy bar, I might lose it."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, nothing like field rations to make you appreciate real food." He took a sip from his water bottle, glancing at her with a teasing grin.

Natasha was never a picky eater. But throughout the two weeks away from you, she didn’t eat as much. The food they had packed was functional—protein bars, dehydrated meals, and tasteless energy snacks meant to keep them going. But Natasha could only force herself to eat the bare minimum, just enough to keep her energy up for the task at hand. Meals usually felt like a routine, not something to enjoy, and as the days dragged on, her appetite shrank even more. She ate just enough to keep herself going, but it never felt satisfying.

And she was grateful to have something, of course—yet each bite only reminded her of what she was missing. But out in the field, food was just fuel, but at home, when you cooked, it was more than that. It was comfort. It was love. And as much as Natasha needed sustenance, she craved that feeling more.

After what felt like the longest mission in months, Natasha finally stepped off the Quinjet and into the compound, exhaustion clinging to her bones. The familiar hum of the base was a strange kind of comfort, but all she could think about was getting back home. Back to you. After sending you a quick text, she moved quickly, her mind already half out the door as she peeled off her tactical suit and threw on something more casual. Her simple black leather, jeans—nothing special. Her body was sore, her muscles tight from the mission, but the thought of seeing you made everything easier to bear.

Natasha sped through the dimly lit streets of New York in her sleek black car, the city blurring past in streaks of neon and headlights. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, excitement building in her chest. She could feel the familiar hum of the engine beneath her, but her mind was already miles ahead, picturing you waiting for her at home. The drive felt agonizingly slow, even though she was pushing the speed limits, navigating the familiar route with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. Every red light felt like an eternity, every stop a moment too long. She wasn’t one to rush, usually careful and calculated, but tonight she wanted nothing more than to be home, to see you.

Finally, her building came into view, and Natasha parked quickly, barely able to contain the smile that tugged at her lips as she made her way inside.

You always missed her when she was away on longer missions. And you tried not to think about it too much, but every night, you’d catch yourself making enough food for two, even though you were the only one there to eat it. Tonight was no different. You made enough for two, like always, as if some part of you knew Natasha would be back soon. As you reached for a spice jar, the soft click of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment. You paused, your heart skipping, your hand stilling over the stove.

The door creaked open, and you felt a familiar flutter in her chest. You heard the soft jingle of car keys and the faint click of the front door closing from the kitchen. The footsteps that followed were gentle, and you could almost picture Natasha’s careful movements—the way she set down her bag and slipped off her shoes.

You continued to stir the pasta, your smile remained soft. After a beat, you felt Natasha’s strong arms wrap around your waist, sending a shiver of delight down your spine. Your breath hitched slightly, a contented sigh escaping your mouth as you leaned back into Natasha’s body.

“Hi,” you let out a soft laugh as Natasha’s lips brushed softly against your shoulders, trailing delicate kisses along the curve of your neck. Each touch was light, almost hesitant, but full of love. You laughed softly, the gentle tickling sensation making your shoulders shake as you tried to stifle her giggles.

Natasha mumbled quietly back against your skin, the vibrations from her voice causing a shiver of delight. The sound was barely audible, but it was filled with tenderness. Natasha’s kisses continued, mingling with the soft laughter that filled the kitchen.

“Hi, baby,” she repeated, her chin now resting atop your shoulder, looking down at the stove where your hand mixed the pasta gently. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you said, turning the stove off, the sizzle of the pasta fading as you gently moved to turn in Natasha’s hands.

Her arms kept you close to her body, and before you could fully turn around, Natasha’s lips found yours. She sighed against them, feeling you smile softly against hers. Your hands found their way to her face as her hands squeezed your hips firmly.

 You pulled away from the kiss, your hands moving up to cradle Natasha’s face gently. You studied her for a moment, your brow furrowing as you took in every little detail—the slight hollowness in her cheeks, the way her body felt just a tad bit thinner against yours. Your thumb brushed softly along Natasha’s jawline, your voice soft with concern.

“How was the mission?” You asked, using your middle finger to brush a couple strands away from her face to tuck it behind her ear.

“Long,” she sighed, leaning in closer to your touch.

“You look a little skinnier,” you murmured, your eyes searching Natasha’s. “Have you been eating?”

Natasha gave a small nod, but it wasn’t convincing. You knew her too well. Knew how missions drained her, how she barely ate more than she had to, always brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

“You should eat more, Natasha,” you said quietly, your hands still holding her face as if you could protect her from the world, if only for a moment.

“I’ll eat when you cook for me,” Natasha’s eyes softened as she stared down at your lips, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. “I like it when you cook for me.”

You exhaled softly, your lips curving into a gentle smile as Natasha’s fingers lightly traced the edges of your waist. You could see the sincerity in her gaze, the way her tiredness seemed to melt away just being here, just being with you. It made your own heart swell.

"Let’s eat, then,” you replied, your smile widening as you brushed a thumb tenderly over her cheek.

Natasha pulled you closer, if it was even possible; her voice was a low murmur against your neck, her lips grazing the soft skin there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “What if… I had some dessert first before dinner?”

You let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes even as a coy smile tugged at your lips. “Very funny, Romanoff,” you replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when your fingers tightened in Natasha’s shirt. You gently nudged her back with a soft, playful push. “Go get the plates.”

Natasha chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. She quick kiss to your lips again, lingering just long enough to leave you wanting more before finally pulling away. Her hands trailed down your sides as she stepped back, a grin still playing on her face.

"Fine," she said, her voice light as she moved toward the cabinets.

She set the plates on the table, her movements slower than usual, as though savoring the moment. When she finally sat down and took her first bite, the rich, creamy taste of your truffle pasta hit her immediately. It was delicious—better than anything she could’ve imagined after two weeks of bland mission rations. She let out a contented sigh, her shoulders relaxing, the tension of the last few days melting away. You sat across from her, watching with that soft, knowing smile, and all Natasha could think was how much she loved this—loved you. She loved the way you took care of her without even trying, loved the way you made coming home feel like a blessing. For the first time in weeks, Natasha felt truly at peace, and as she took another bite, she couldn’t help but think that there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

navigation! (natasha’s masterlist is still in progress lol)

[notanactressyay]

— ₊˚⊹ 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐬

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . she takes her time to explore you closely, as if compensating the time she didn't notice your true needs.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — reader being needy, swearing, pet names, making out, oral, strap on, begging, possessive Nat, multiple orgasms. r receives all. soft sex. no real plot.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . just because i'm in need of a very soft Natasha to take care of me. 😣

fic started: june, 23, 2024, 11:55pm. | finished: june, 25, 2024, 11:42pm.

dividers belong to: @/anitalenia and @/rookthornesartistry ₊⊹

you weren't sleeping. your eyelids were shut, but she could tell you weren't asleep. she felt your heavy breathing, and how changed depending on her actions. under the covers, the only thing separating you both being the silk sleepwear you were in. the thin shorts rolled up whenever she shifted, and the skin to skin contact coaxed a small whimper out of you. Natasha was used to sleeping only in her lingerie, and the fact you wore babydolls didn't bother her — not at all. she could use it to her advantage. to tease you, when she felt like doing so.

the room became a hundred times hotter as she nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, emphasized by your body lotions. her palm slides under your top, pressing flat against your stomach, counting the exact amount of times you inhaled and exhaled. rapidly.

"is there a reason why you're still awake, dorogaya?" she purrs into your ear. the groan you let out, as if admitting you got caught, amuses her. you turn around in the embrace, so now you're both face to face. "no no no. let me rephrase. is there a reason why you're still awake, and letting me touch you like this?"

you sigh, hand moving up to cup her cheek. she leans against your palm, but keeps the questioning, almost teasing look up. you decide to stay silent, for a while. the reason was almost.. silly, in your point of view. but Natasha knew you. more than you knew, in more ways than you could imagine. so she took note of your response and continued with her test.

she pulls you closer, and her hand moves from your stomach to your waist, giving it a light squeeze. her fingertips are delicate against your skin. you sigh quietly, grabbing a strand of her red hair and begining to twirl it on your fingers. "i miss you."

"you miss me?" she inquires softly, eyeing you up and down. she had imagined it was something to do with that, but not that you'd stay awake at night missing her without reaching out for her.

"i mean.." you clear your throat, not knowing how to put your thoughts, desires, into words. "it's not your fault. it's just.."

it was just the fact that you missed being truly seen. taken care of. the last times you and Natasha had sex were extremely rushed, since she had to be awake early in the morning, or for whatever reason. but now that she had taken a break from missions, it could be the perfect chance for you to properly catch up.

"just tell me." the redhead demands. she leans on her ewbol, next to your head, looking down into your eyes. her hair gently falls against your face, and you tuck the locks behind her ears.

"can you.." you sigh. a timid smile tugs on your lips, your voice barely audible. "can you make love to me?

her eyes brighten up, lips parting to say something, but closing afterwards. god, imagining you saying it was something, but hearing you ask for it? her heart melted completely. the woman leans down, face close to yours. she slowly begins to pull the blankets downwards, to the end of the bed. "ask me again, baby."

"Nat," you shakily breathe and glance at her hand, heart beating faster in anticipation. "fuck me, please."

"oh, shit," she mutters to herself. for such a long time, she wanted to properly have her way with you, and the fact you took so long to ask disappointed her somehow. but it wasn't time for that.

she sits up on the bed, both hands grabbing your waist and pulling you onto her lap, so you're straddling her. the sudden action makes you gasp, which turns into a giggle as you see the sparkle in her eyes. your hands grab her shoulders, and you hold onto each other, pressed up, finally, closely. she doesn't want to talk, but makes sure her eyes passes you the message. don't ever hesitate on communicating with me again. your eyes close, enjoying her proximity, the fuzzy feeling her closeness gave you — before she grabbed your chin, and claimed your lips with hers. you almost immediately moan, returning the slow kiss.

seconds go by of your lips just being pressed against one another, so just then her tongue would slip in your mouth and dance with yours. you felt so warm, everything was warm. especially the spot between your legs. her nails graze upon your back, making you shiver and want to get rid of those clothes as soon as possible. as you pull away from the kiss, a small strand of saliva still connects you, and neither of you bother to break it.

"i'll take me time with you," her lips trail kisses down your chin, to your shoulder blade, hands tightening on your torso. "take it as an apology for not giving you what you deserve, malyshka."

"Natasha," you moan, head tilting back. you allow your weight to fall on her, body completely in her grasp, utterly hers — to do as she pleased. "i-i don't blame you.. you don't have to—"

"quietly, now," she husks out, forcing your head to look at her.

she wanted you to know you could openly tell her your desires and fantasies, she needed you to. and in case that possibly happened again — you, hiding yourself — the spy needed to know every little spot that made you moan out her name, all the ways she could make you go crazy for her. make you come so much, just to remind you all she wanted to do was make you feel good, make you satisfied.

"take those pajamas off." the redhead commands gently, tugging on the silk fabric and quickly standing up from the bed.

your breath hitches again, watching her figure leave the mattress. you oblige, pulling the top over your head, and sliding the shorts down your thighs. Natasha walked over to the closet, which was coincidentally by the window. it was late night, so the moonlight shone on her hair — the beautiful red locks falling down her back. that woman, so goddamn gorgeous. your eyes were locked on her figure as she slowly god rid of the wine-red lace underwear that once covered her. she was now nude, and purposefully showing herself to you. what couldn't get better, did — you were almost drooling now. she took the strap you most liked from the dresser's drawer, putting on herself and tightening it on her hips.

"underwear off, too, princess. do i gotta remind ya?" she smirks and walks over to you, winking. when you strip out of it, she kneels down in front of the bed and pats the end of the mattress. "c'mere."

you certainly got wetter with that. crawling over, you sat where she wanted you, feet now touching the floor. she kisses your knee, and thighs, slowly spreading them. her face slowly approached your core, eyeing you intensely.

"god, you're visibly dripping." she moans, placing her hands on your hips to pull you towards her. so, she devours you.

your head tilts back instantly. the walls feel like closing in, all the sounds suddenly dying around you and the only thing you could focus on were the sensations. Natasha's experience never showed more until now — lips slowly, but surely sucking on your clitoris, then her tongue, sliding in between your folds, going deep into you.

"mhm, fuck," your mouth parts, fingers making a makeshift ponytail of her hair to get it out of the way. your body arches forwards, meeting the thrusts of her tongue in and out you. she finds your g-spot, contently humming to herself as you moan louder. "yes, yes, don't— d-don't stop,"

that familiar feeling of a knot building inside your lower stomach starts to wash over you as long as she repeats her motions, but now, it just feels.. more. it has something else to it when the person's determined to do something. doesn't take long before your eyes squeeze hard, a gasp escaping your throat, and Natasha feels your walls clenching around her tongue.

"i'm coming, i'm, i—" you quickly mutters as you come. the russian's mouth opens wider, welcoming in your sweetness. her hands gently grab onto your ribs to contain the spasms going through your body. she smiles.

"good job," she coos, pressing a kiss to your hip and crawling upwards again. she gives you time to enjoy and recover from your first high. but it was only the start.

"feel s'good, Nat," you whimper, eyebrows furrowed as you reach out for her. seeing you like this did something to her. "more."

"you want more, don't you?" she hisses, body hovering yours. her hands grab your hips, shifting your position on the bed so that you're even more in display for her. "that's good, detka. i was just making sure you're wet enough for me to fuck you, like i really want to."

she spreads your legs once more, and without warning, lines the strap towards your entrance and shoves into your pussy with little effort. you gasp loudly, feeling sensitive but deliciously filled, after so long. Natasha takes your legs and throw them over her shoulders, allowing you to feel her deeper and deeper, allowing her own body to press up against yours — hard nipples rubbing against themselves, sweaty skins gliding on each other. she gasps as well, feeling more connected to you than ever. she wondered, how good it would be to actually feel your cunt clench around her. that drove her wild. the silicone material drags up across your walls, just to completely slam in again, hips slapping soundly.

"please, oh, my goodness," you mutter, grabbing onto Natasha's arms tightly, keeping her close. her body rubbed against yours with each thrust, and you both still felt like it wasn't enough. "i fucking love you,"

"i love you so, so much, krasivaya," she huskily manages, breathing rapidly and squeezing your body with all her might. "so beautiful taking all of me."

you're barely aware of what you're doing as your hands caress up her back, shoulders and neck, savouring the feeling of her skin, and the little scars that painted the canvas of her body. the fake cock snugly brushes over and over in you, it gets hard to hold back the moans you let out in Natasha's ear. she pounds into you quickly, surprisingly finding somewhere else which made you cry out.

"oh, please, Nat," you beg, back arching off the bed. your hands slid down her hips, giving her rear a squeeze, encouraging her to go faster. "right there. right fucking there."

"so eager." she hums, continuously hitting where you wanted, before you couldn't take it anymore. your legs shook as another heavenly pleasure consumed you, an almost embarrassing moan coming out of you.

"Natasha~" your head fell back against the pillow, nails scratching her back, cum soaking the length of the toy.

your eyes stayed close for a long while — you weren't even sure how long, just when she started with slow thrusts, that eventually quieted down, and the before you knew, her head was resting right above your heart. weakly, she pulls out of you and sets the toy aside to be cleaned later.

"feeling better, baby?" she murmurs. you smile softly, satisfied. you don't speak yet. she sees your expression of bliss, and that was enough for her. "promise me you wont hide your desires from me anymore?"

you breathlessly sigh, and nod. "i promise,"

she cuddles up against you and brings you to the top of the bed with her, properly laying down on the pillows. the blankets were probably on the other corner of the world right now, but you were both too warm still, so they weren't needed.

"thank you, Nat," you murmur, curling yourself up into her. her hand cradles the back of your head, feeling your messy, tangled hair.

"always, my girl." Natasha gives your lips a final peck, and don't say anything else, nor do.

you both relaxed, but the most important, you felt cared, loved. it was undescribable how glad you were for having that woman in your life, in all aspects.

[munariplans]

forty, love | part 3 | natasha romanoff

part 3 of forty, love | read part 2

synopsis: nothing's changed, or everything's changed, really, in the years away from you. natasha doesn't know which is better.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 5k words

a/n: the final part to this very wonderful series. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. as always, thank you for your support.

masterlist

working up the courage to approach you after the match felt like having to work up the courage to approach you at graduation, except this time, she was being pushed around by a swarm of other reporters, cameramen, and the fans, all trying to get a glimpse of the winner of the grand slam. it was no longer the college’s favourite tennis player that she was seeing, no, it was almost as if she was looking at a completely different person. 

you were grinning from ear to ear, unbothered by the fans coming in swarms and happily signing each ball, each cap, each shirt that was passed your way. natasha assumed when you were in the position that you were in, paying fan service to the fans was the least you could do. the crowd was singing your name, and natasha was getting drowned out by people who were much taller, much bigger, and louder than her.

but then, by a stroke or luck, or mere fate, your eyes were roaming the crowd again, as if looking for someone. you were smiling and laughing with everyone around you, but your eyes betrayed the intention behind your search. somehow, this time, you caught natasha’s gaze in the crowd, among the many fans towering over her, among the cameras over her head obscuring your view. your smile faltered in the slightest bit, and natasha’s heart dropped. 

it was going to be like a repeat of graduation. it was going to be you, telling her no, not to come any closer again, and forcing her to retreat. it was you refusing to take her back, even then, even now. she took one step back, almost stepping on the foot of a photographer behind her, when you suddenly pulled your manager in by the collar, and whispered something to him. she saw his eyes shift to her as well, and he nodded, walking towards her while you returned your attention to the people around you. natasha found herself being escorted to your dressing room.

you only came in half an hour afterwards, when natasha had finished biting the last of her fingernails, and paced around the room about a hundred times by then. but when the door unlocked and you stepped in, it felt like natasha’s breath was knocked out of her lungs again. 

“hi,” you started, giving her a small smile. you were carrying the trophy natasha watched you receive with joy earlier. but then, you set the trophy down behind you, not even giving it a second thought when you returned your attention to the woman before you. you had decided natasha was more important in that moment. 

it was awkward at first; speaking after years of no contact. “hi.”

“you came.”

she wanted to say of course, i watch every single match of yours, but instead, she uttered, “yeah, my company sent me. i was covering the finals.”

you chuckled, nodding. you took the seat across from her, trailing your eyes up and down natasha. you thought she still looked like the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. natasha caught you casually glancing at her fingers, and at the absence of a ring on the fourth one, you were ashamed that she had seen your expression brightening. 

you cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “you did what you always wanted to do. i always told you journalism was much more fun than chemical engineering.”

natasha couldn’t control the laughter that bubbled at her throat, remembering all the times she complained to you of how much she hated her degree, no matter how good she was at it. she always had a fondness for covering stories instead. you had been supportive of her pursuing her dreams, but she had wanted to be practical. you were proud that she was finally doing it then. “yeah, i tried my hand at a smaller firm after college, then i got this opportunity and…”

“...and you’re amazing at it. like i knew you always would be.”

she blushed brightly, fingers digging into the couch she was sitting on. then, she sat up. “but you! look at you…winning a grand slam, finally.”

it was your turn to get a little shy, sneaking a look back at the trophy, the shining Tiffany silver, and shrugging. “i won a grand slam.”

“congratulations.”

you thanked her, replying with, “it’s been a long time coming. i think…and i’m sure you know, you knew, that it’s all i ever wanted ever since i started playing. and now…it feels a bit surreal.”

“you deserved it more than anyone.”

there was no smugness, or arrogance, in your expression. it was one of quiet relief. natasha thought you still looked so beautiful when you sighed, nodding towards her in happiness. 

then came the reason for why you had invited her to your dressing room. “i was very happy to see you. i thought i’d seen you, from way down in the court and you were in the hospitality suite, but i thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. and then you came to see me after the win, and i knew it…it hit me like a ton of bricks.”

natasha’s lips were already quivering, watching you nervously profess to her of the reality that she too, had been experiencing, since seeing you again. “i was very happy to see you too.”

the glint in your eyes twinkled, knee bouncing in excitement as you heard her words. you had doubted if natasha was happy, or even willing to say yes, when you had asked your manager to ask her if she wanted to see you after. you were half-expecting her to say no, or to leave after a brief congratulations with you, but she stayed. the both of you stayed, in that dressing room for hours after, catching up and laughing and talking like the years had never passed. you forgot that natasha was once your best friend before she became the love of your life. 

and at the end of the day, when your team had to inevitably ask you to leave the room so they too, could pack up and return to celebrate, you were yearning not to have the time with natasha come to an end. you asked her if she had work to do, or any other players to interview or cover for, but when she said no, and looked back at you in hopes for something more, you decided to risk the chance.

“would you…want to go get dinner with me then?” you asked, fingers gripping the ends of your racket bag strap, drumming in anticipation. 

the look of surprise on her face caught you off-guard for a moment. “y-you don’t have plans? to celebrate?”

she watched you sheepishly admit, “to be honest, no. i didn’t expect to actually win the slam and…and i usually celebrate by myself, alone in my hotel room. which i know is pretty lame, and boring, but i just like to–”

“–to take it all in.” 

“you remember,” you grinned, and at natasha’s laugh, it grew even wider. you had missed hearing that laugh so much. 

she nodded, affirming you, “i remember. and i would really like to, getting dinner with you.”

–

you asked natasha if it was okay, for old time’s sake, that the both of you visited a diner a little outside of town. a little afraid that she would be upset that you weren’t taking her for an upscale restaurant, or high-end steak place, considering your status and the occasion then, but she said yes. she found that your preference for the little things never really changed, including your love for the nostalgia of celebrating the way the both of you celebrated in your years in college. 

with a fry in your mouth, you watched as natasha let out an uneasy chuckle halfway through dinner. then, she joked, “i guess you only stopped your losing streak after you left me, huh? maybe i was what was weighing you down for so long, stopping you from winning a grand slam earlier.”

“you weren’t.” natasha was a little taken aback at the seriousness, and the hint of vexation, of your tone. your expression too, had gone solemn.

“i–i mean–”

“–you weren’t the cause of my losing streak, natasha. and you definitely were the reason for my winning of a grand slam so early in my career. i want you to know that.” you were all i thought about before, during, and after my matches. you were all i ever thought about. 

she nodded, indicating that she understood. the atmosphere had gotten awkward again, no thanks to natasha’s self-deprecation. but you let down your own guard a bit, and offered her a taste of your drink. 

inevitably, you also asked, “how’s steve? did you and him make it? are you guys still together now?”

it was natasha’s turn to laugh, quite incredulously this time, to your face. your eyebrows raised, she let out another snort before she managed to calm herself down. “n-no! steve and i…we were never a thing. and we would never be, because…”

“...because?” you continued, but then natasha did a gesture, a flick of her wrist downwards, and her eyebrows telling you what it was suggestively, and it hit you. oh. oh.

the fit of giggles and chuckles that left the both of you at the same time was infectious, as both you natasha leaned forwards with how hard you were laughing. her hair shrouding a little of her face, she was still incredibly breathtaking even as she was snorting and laughing her heart out with you. you almost hadn’t wanted the moment to end, pure joy indescribable in both your faces. 

the both of you talked, and talked even more, into the night. it was like the years had never passed, like nothing had ever changed. at dessert, she even spotted another couple ordering a milkshake, and plucked up the courage to ask you, “can we share a milkshake too?”

your eyes travelled to the couple, and the memories of how the both of you would head to the diner for your weekly cheat meal and share a milkshake after when you won matches all returning to you then. it was a bittersweet memory that you enjoyed very much with natasha.

she always liked the flavour with chocolate ribbons, and you loved vanilla. in the past, you would argue over the flavour that you would order, the other never backing down on their insistence for the superior flavour. 

natasha, noticing your silence, and longing gaze at the couple, suddenly cleared her throat nervously. maybe it was too much, maybe she was being too much. “it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to. you’re probably on a strict diet now, and it’s probably weird, to share a milkshake with someone who’s like a stranger, and–”

you returned your gaze to her, smiling. “–we can share a milkshake.”

you flagged the waitress down, and natasha’s heart skipped a beat when you told her that you wished to order a milkshake with chocolate ribbons without so much as a thought for your own preferred flavour. she remembers as well as you did of your little fights.

when the milkshake arrived, you even grabbed the little bottle of sprinkles by the table, and let it pour all over the top of the whipped cream, just like how natasha liked it. you remembered everything. 

she caught herself from reaching over to kiss you, many times, as the both of you inserted straws into the drink and began sipping the sweet treat.

you could tell natasha was longing for something more, still. she guessed she hadn’t realised how much she had really missed you; of course she did, she always did, but seeing you in the flesh again, spending the night and catching up with you, it felt like she was taken back to a happier, simpler time. natasha never realised just how much she had lost, being apart from you.

however, on the other hand, you were scared, and doubtful, of the woman before you. had natasha really changed, or grown up, you weren’t sure. for all you knew the reason she was making you so happy, and was being so kind, in the moment, was all because you had won the grand slam. if you hadn’t, things would have been completely different. you couldn’t be more wrong. 

natasha never cared about the grand slam, or the trophy you carried in, or even your career at all. all she wanted to see was you, and all she wanted was you. she just missed you.

you let natasha finish the shake, and when she did, you joked this time, “have you gotten enough insider scoop for your coverage of the US Open, then, ms. romanoff?”

you gestured towards the clip-on name tag natasha still had on her breast pocket, grinning at the title of senior reporter. it fit her so well. but that smile quickly disappeared, when instead of laughing along with you, natasha suddenly looked down, pushing the milkshake away dejectedly. a hurt look flashed onto her face, before she tried hiding it under the guise of looking away at something else. 

“you think i said yes to dinner with you so i could get information for my firm?”

damage control. damage control, now, the sirens in your head immediately rang, as you sat up straighter, panicked at hearing her voice crack. “n-no, no. of course not. i was kidding, i didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“i’m not using you, if you think that’s what this is.”

“of course, i didn’t…” you choked on your words, “...that wasn’t in my mind at all. i trust you, natasha.”

it was a relief to hear, of course, but the sting was still there. however, in your desperation, and perhaps regret, still, you reached out your hand, holding hers, and natasha physically melted into your touch. “please, please believe me. it was a joke, which i realise now is a badly made one. i never meant for it to sound like you were using me, because…because i really enjoyed tonight. i really, really wanted to hang out with you, and this is the best way i thought we could celebrate my grand slam. i’m sorry.”

after all this time, natasha thought, she somehow still had you wrapped around her finger. she rubbed her thumb over yours, and nodded. “i understand. apology accepted.”

afterwards, you offered natasha a deal; free VIP passes to any future matches she wished to watch you in, in exchange for her forgiveness of the crudeness of your words. she found it adorable that you were still so apologetic, and touched when she got reminded that this was precisely the person she fell so hard for. 

– 

natasha appeared for almost every single match that you played when she had pockets of breaks away from work. wherever you were on the court, you could look up to find her there; smiling encouragingly and cheering you on regardless of the scores. even when there were so few spectators that she was only one of a handful, and even when it was a match that drew in the thousands. 

you often hung out after, and outside, the matches, natasha following you around the country when she secured a promotion that allowed her the flexibility to work remotely, and became, as one could call it as accurately as they could, best friends. you talked to her about your woes and struggles of your schedule, and she noticed that you loved it when she talked about her journalism too. she was there for you as much as you were there for her through it all this time. 

still, natasha always wishes there could be something more. it could have been pure selfishness on her part, or dissatisfaction from something unfinished, but was it so wrong to want to keep you all to herself? often, when she toured around with you for your matches, she would catch the occasional pining gaze of others upon you, wanting to experience what it was like to have a champion for a partner, and it would fuel her blood boiling at people who she barely even knew. other times, when there were celebrities, or public figures, who flirted with her in interviews, and she was in your presence, it almost made her even more upset when you would only look briefly in her direction, almost trying to gauge her response, before looking away again. was it so wrong for you to want her again?

this time, she was there to love you and support you through your losses. though you were no longer the irrational, insecure, and doubtful youth player that you were in your college days, a loss was a loss and it would still hit a professional player as hard as it would a rookie when it came to feeling like you could have done better. when your confidence was shaken, natasha would be there to hug you after your matches, whispering words of encouragement and telling you that you did your best out there. you hugged her back just as tight. when you received an unfair result, natasha was there to shit talk the umpire just as much as you were, allowing you to crack a grin and eventually end up laughing along with her on the poor person that was destined to give you the poor score. and finally, when you tell her that she could skip the next match if she wanted because you feared the result, she told you that she wasn’t going anywhere, and she would be just as happy to see you as she would be in any other match. 

eventually, natasha proposed that the two of you forget about tennis altogether when you were alone and outside of the tennis courts. ice cream hangouts became simply talking about the flavour of the month instead of the impending match the following day, picking her up after her shifts at work became a nice solace for enjoying the music on the radio instead of talking about strategies that you could have used in matches earlier in the day, and movie nights became a time for you to rest your laurels for a bit, and lean your weight against natasha, to take away your stress and sorrows for the week instead of thinking about tennis the whole time. natasha would never know it was the respite you had so badly craved ever since you started playing professionally, and the closest thing to a work-life-balance you had between tennis and the woman you loved.

in those moments, natasha refused to talk about anything, or touch anything remotely close to tennis, when she was with you. she had reminded you that she was there to hang out with her friend outside the court, not the professional tennis player, and while it took you some time to dissociate your identity from all that you knew, which was tennis, you began to learn to like the person you were outside of the sport as well, all thanks to her.

and eventually, natasha noticed, you finally allowing yourself to look at anyone else in the face after losing matches, ready to confront and thank the crowd for their support, still. you seeking her for comfort after certain hard matches, instead of her coming to you, you letting someone else in to the world that you had carved a path for all by yourself, all those years ago. and with a support system like natasha, it was hard to lose many matches, not when you found confidence independent of your results and began climbing up the ladder to become one of the top tennis players of all time. 

maybe the both of you had just grown older, maybe you both matured out of your college ways, or maybe something was different now; the way you would look at each other across the room and know, just know, what the other was thinking, what the other wanted. maybe something really had changed, when you would catch each other’s smiles and finish each other’s sentences. maybe natasha had changed, and so had you.

it was after a gruelling day in the office, natasha remembered, she wasn’t so sure of the date, but she had been of the time. she hadn’t asked you to, and she certainly told you to just go home after your match, since you would be tired and drained from the day, but you waited, in your car, until nearly 2 in the morning to pick her up and get her home safe. she had come out in a hurry, apologising for keeping you waiting and being so mentally exhausted from work herself. but you had gotten out of the car, and, taking her stuff away from her to load it into the back, you had come back for her afterwards, pulling her in for a tight, comforting hug before she could even open the car door. natasha immediately felt all of the stress and worries for the day melt away into the ground then, almost whimpering with how comforted she felt being in your arms. she felt like she could cry. 

“it’s okay. you did great today.” you said, smiling down at her.

“how would you know?” she muttered into your sweater, letting you rock her back and forth for a minute, “you were busy being amazing at tennis.”

“i asked my manager to record you on the news while i played. watched it after. incredible how you could look so cool even when you’re delivering the news.” you got what you wanted when you heard her chuckle, finally letting go after making sure she knew she was off duty, and with you now.

your tennis rackets and equipment were still in the back of the car, and natasha got reminded just of the day you had before you even came to pick her up. “how was it? the match?”

you kept your answer brief, already driving into the parking lot of the diner the both of you first went after your grand slam win. natasha was craving for a milkshake after a long day. “i won.”

“that’s great!” she exclaimed, and you nodded, thinking that no matter how great it felt to win, somehow, the feeling of being able to see natasha after a long day felt even better.

the both of you ate in the car after, natasha laughing about a stupid thing your coach had told you during training, and you listening intently as she told you about a new unfolding story she was covering. it was safe, and familiar, and everything you had wanted after a match. 

it was the way that natasha wiped a crumb off your cheek, eyes glistening with something you always knew was more than friendship, fingers soft against your skin. the realisation that you had always known, but never dared to admit, all came rushing back. it was now or never. you never wanted her to be apart from you ever again.

“natasha.”

she was busy finding the sprinkles in her shake. “mmm?”

“do you think we’ve changed?”

she paused for a moment, looking up at the dashboard, before letting out a nervous snort. “what makes you say that? what a serious topic for tonight.”

“because i’ve changed. i think i’ve changed, a lot.” you angled your body to face her fully, inviting her to do the same. she sensed the shift in emotion in your tone, and finally turned to look at you. your stance mirrored that of the one you had displayed so many times in the past, when you were apologising to her after a bad fight the both of you would have.

you continued. “i’m not…that kid anymore. that angry, hotheaded, smug, and insecure kid you knew back in college. i-i think i’ve changed, i’ve grown, and i don’t ever want to go back to what i was back then.”

“i know,” natasha probed, “i know you’ve changed. i’ve seen it in person.”

you nodded, biting the corner of your lip, and natasha sighed. “and i’ve changed too. i’m not someone…who projects her desires, her insecurities of losing, onto someone else anymore. i’ve found peace with myself, and the time apart from you…it’s really helped me find myself and what i wanted for my future. winning clearly doesn’t matter to me anymore, and though it is nice, i think being able to enjoy and live in the moment, with people i cherish and love, that’s what’s more important.”

“i’ve changed because of you.” the both of you managed to say at the same time, sending shocked looks to each other at least, before natasha laughed nervously and you grinned with your heart pumping in your chest.

she motioned for you to speak first, seeing as you had something so earnest on the tip of your tongue. “i was going to say…i’ve changed, and everything’s changed, but i don’t think i have loved you any less, over the years. my love for you, it is the one thing that’s remained the same.”

natasha knew and didn’t know what was happening, both at the same time, until you reached over the console, and held her shaking hand. “i still love you, i always have, over the years, until now. and i know you might call me stupid, or even rash, for trying to repair something that we clearly thought was broken back in college, but…but i think we can make it work, this time. i think we can try again, and have the love we always dreamed of back then, now, as adults.”

at her stunned silence, you persisted, “i’m not saying you have to say yes now, or for us to get back together now, but i want you to think about it. really think about it, because i am certain that you are the one i have always loved, and you are the one i want to spend the rest of my life loving. so–”

“–yes.”

it was your turn to stare at her in shock. “...yes?”

then, natasha had tears down her eyes again, this time filled with joy and relief, as she threw herself over the console, and into your arms. “yes, yes, you idiot! yes i’ll get back together with you, yes i want to love you for the rest of my life as much as you want to love me.”

she felt you chuckle in relief through her arms, bringing her in for a kiss right after.

– 

“do you think you want kids? soon?” the topic had come up before, and while the both of you had discussed it briefly, it had never come to any real conclusion. natasha, naked and vulnerable and laying in your arms then, years after your confession outside the diner in your car, asked again. 

you were still catching your breath  beside her, the activities of the night after such a win tiring you out more quickly after the activities in the day.  “i want whatever you want.”

“well…” natasha drew circles on the bare skin of your back, “...i want them. pretty soon. i think we should start a family.”

she felt your smile against her own skin, nodding in agreement. “sure.”

“sometimes i see the kids that show up at your matches, up in their parents arms and wearing your caps to cheer you on, or even the ball girls and boys eagerly rushing in and out to help you during the matches, and i can’t help but want them then and there. even now, i can’t help but want them right now, with us, in this moment.”

you leaned over to kiss her sensually, cradling her face in  your hands, before returning, “my love, are you saying you have baby fever during my matches? and not a lovesick, guttural, lusting feeling for your fiancee that is playing–”

“–oh shut up!” she groaned, throwing a pillow at your face, “you’re the one that brought that stupid trophy to bed before you even thought about bringing me on it!”

she pointed towards the trophy at the end of the room, that natasha had almost kicked in frustration when she came in after her shower, sported in a brand new lingerie set just for you, and caught you hugging it and trying to fall asleep. you had to remind her that doing so would have broken your heart, and definitely your proposal to get married with her.

she felt herself being rolled over then, out of sight of the trophy, as you nipped on her skin and apologised until she gave in again. she always gave in when it came to you. “sorry. got jealous that my very beautiful, very sexy fiancee is busy looking at how cute the kids that support my matches are, instead of me. totally my fault.”

the glare natasha shot at you was met with another kiss that made her melt, but you weren’t free just yet. she rolled you back to straddle you, hands pushing against your shoulders to say, “i still want the kids.”

“my god, woman,” you sat up, pulling her down with you, “you just fucked my brains out, and we have a wedding to attend tomorrow. let me marry you first tomorrow, and we’ll have the kids after, okay? one thing at a time.”

it was getting pretty late, as she reluctantly grumbled her agreement. she was already breaking rules by sleeping with you the night before her own wedding; but how could she not? when her bride looked as gorgeous as the one she was snuggled up with, natasha didn’t mind breaking a few rules.

“fine, but if you dare bring that godforsaken trophy tomorrow, baby…”

that sprang your eyes open, lulling you out of the sleep you had been succumbing to. “come on, it’s wimbledon, i won wimbledon! don’t you think people deserve to see a wimbledon trophy in the flesh once in their lives?!”

“but not at our wedding!”

[reginaphalange2403]

Never Again

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Despite an intense dislike for one another, you and Bucky begrudgingly get paired together for a mission. You’re forced to look past your differences when things so south.

Warnings: Canon level violence, asshole Bucky (at first), enemies to lovers vibes, other mcu characters make appearances. Word count: 6.1k

a/n: AHHHH my first fic in like 6 months! this is also the first time I've ever written for Bucky or written anything like this. It was a lot of fun and I hope I did him justice lol. Enjoy!

The loud hissing of the Keurig was a rude awakening to your 7am start to the day. Unfortunately, Steve had decided to hold a team conference meeting at 8. Why he chose to annoy you all like this, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you fucking done yet?” You instantly recognized the deep, rough voice muttering under his breath behind you. Bucky had his arms folded and was impatiently waiting for you to finish up at the machine so he could make his own cup.

“Already have a stick up your ass today, huh Barnes?” You spit back at him before moving to let him use the Keurig.

“Well, I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the first thing I saw when I came down the stairs.” 

Damn. That stung. “Have you ever been nice for once in your life? Or is being a dick just a permanent part of your personality?” 

At your words, Bucky looked up at you and feigned offense “Oh, I’m nice” He assured you in an almost sweet tone, before turning cold again “…to people that deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, muttering a ‘whatever’, and left the kitchen to go take a seat in the conference room. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an atypical conversation for you to have with Bucky. Ever since you had joined the team almost a year ago - at Natasha Romanoff’s request - Bucky had been anything but welcoming. At first, you thought it was just friendly banter, him trying to sarcastically intimidate you, but it was clear by now that he genuinely had a deep distaste for you. 

Soon enough, everyone else started to file in for the meeting. Nat smiled as she took the seat next to you, her regular spot, and quietly started asking you about your morning. Bucky was the last one to enter the room, and by that point the only seat left was the one on your other side. 

He glared at you as he sat down. 

“It’s not my fault you’re always late to these things” You quipped under your breath.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart” Bucky frustratingly muttered, and you quickly opened your mouth to reply before Natasha interrupted,

“Don’t bother with him, Y/N. He’s always a grump in the mornings” 

‘No, he’s always a grump to me’ you thought to yourself, but kept your mouth shut. 

“Good Morning, everyone” Steve finally got started with the meeting, a cheery grin on his face that was all too happy for 8am, in your opinion.

“As you all know, for months now we’ve been trying to track down where exactly Ian Haverford and his men have been setting up camp and operating their illegal activities” Most recently, the team had been working on taking down a group of rouge scientists. They had somehow been creating and using a serum that was similar to the super soldier serum. A antidote that made them have increased strength, speed and agility. They then used their new enhancements to rob and kill storeowners, evade the police, and then subsequently sell the drugs and weapons that they had stolen. 

“We’ve finally located their compound, up in rural Virginia, we-“

“What he meant to say was I located their compound in Virginia” Tony cheekily butt in. 

Steve sighed, having to stop his own eye roll, “Fine, yes, Tony located the compound. Anyway, as I was saying…We believe that that’s where they’re making the serum. The sooner we go in, the less time they have to continue using the serum and giving it to more people. Now, I didn’t necessarily think this was a task we all needed to partake in. It really only requires two people to take down Haverford and gather intel on what chemicals they’ve been using”

Steve took a big breath before revealing who he had assigned to the mission, knowing he’d have hell to pay, “Y/N and Bucky will be heading to Virginia tomorrow morning-“

“Are you serious Rogers?!” You immediately confronted Steve’s decision as you heard Bucky next you,

“You’ve got to be kidding me” He mumbled, clearly as annoyed as you were.

Steve put his hands up defensively, “I know the two of you don’t always get along, but I was hoping this assignment would allow you to work together and actually have to interact beyond your bickering” 

You had never been on a mission with just Bucky before. Of course, the two of you had been on missions with the rest of the avengers together, but never just the two of you. 

Steve continued, “Besides, we need someone who’s a super soldier to infiltrate the compound. Bucky has the strength and speed to match that of Haverford’s people. And Y/N, you also have enhancements, it makes sense to send the both of you in together.” He concluded by basically saying his decision was final, and that you and Buck would be leaving on a quinjet first thing tomorrow.

During your years in the red room, you had been injected with various substances and drugs that over time had enhanced your agility, flexibility, reflexes and even your sight. But you didn’t see how that made you a necessary aspect to this assignment. You were sure Steve was just using that as an excuse, he really just wanted you to get along better with Bucky. 

Speaking of which, Buck stood up from his chair as you looked over at him, he glowered at you for a moment before scoffing, “Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it” and with that he left the room. 

You stayed, waiting for everyone else to file out so that you could speak with Steve privately. Natasha gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your shoulder, as she was the last one to head out after talking to Steve for a while herself. You were always sort of jealous of their friendship. Of course, you had Nat. Who was your closest confidant in the group. But you also wanted to be close with the guys as well. You supposed Steve was your friend, but sometimes it felt like he looked at you as more of a younger sister. 

Finally, it was just you and Steve alone in the room and you were still sitting in your same seat, Steve standing at the head of the table. He tilted his head towards you and quirked his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something. 

“Why does he hate me?” You asked quietly. You had always wanted to go to Steve for advice on how to handle Bucky, but never wished to cause a rift in their friendship or make Steve feel like he was put in the middle of something.

His eyes went soft and he sighed, “Oh Y/N” He began gently “I know it may come off that way, but Buck doesn’t hate you. He just…” Steve looked to find the right words, “has a hard time handling his emotions and how he feels about people… especially people that bring up past trauma for him” 

Steve’s little hint helped you clue in to what he was trying to imply. You knew that Bucky had a history with the red room, long before you ever did, but you never really knew the details of it or how he was involved. You were saved from Dreykov almost a year ago when Natasha returned to destroy him. You were one of Yelena’s closest friends and she had introduced you to Nat, who then saw how skilled you were and decided to invite you to join the avengers, since you really had no other home to go to. Yelena meanwhile, had wanted to enjoy her freedom a little more and chose to see the world a bit before deciding to join any sort of vigilante team. Though Natasha always held out hope that she would finally join one day when she felt ready. 

“But Nat’s from the red room too!” You defended yourself, “And Bucky treats her perfectly fine! It’s not my fault that my past is what it is. I can’t help the fact that I was raised there, why does he have to hold that against me?” You started to get emotional and Steve could tell, so he began to try and explain his friends behavior.

“Well, he’s gotten to know Natasha for a few years now, so I think they’re on better terms. Plus he kinda owes her one for how she saved both our asses during the whole…sokovia accords thing” Steve said the last part quietly while sort of shamefully looking down. Despite the fact that it was worked out now, that whole incident with him, Tony and Bucky still deeply bothered Steve to even bring up.

He continued after a moment, “He doesn’t hold it against you Y/N, it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t like the memories you bring up for him, the things you remind him of. And he doesn’t know how to properly process and work through them, so instead he just takes out that pent up anger and self hatred on you. It’s not fair to you, but it’s also not your fault.”

“Get him to see a therapist then” you muttered.

Steve scoffed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

He then walked around the length of the table to where you were sitting and gave you a pleading look, “Just give him a chance. Hopefully this mission will be the thing that finally gets him to see you in a different light. I know it’s hard to believe, but he really does have a sweet, soft side under all that brooding, if you dig deep enough” And that was what Steve left you with as he walked out, leaving you alone to mull over what he had said. 

———————

For the rest of that day, you and Bucky both avoided each other. You spent most of the afternoon locked up in your room or in the gym, perfecting a few moves with Nat’s help in preparation for your assignment. You didn’t see Bucky all day, you assumed he also was doing his best to not run into you.

Now, you were seated across from him on the quinjet, an awkward silence taking up the majority of the ride to a rural part of Virginia. He barely even looked at you for the entire 2 hour flight. Mostly staring down at his hands with airpods in, or having his head tilted back and eyes closed. As you neared the end of your trip, jet about to touch down, you noticed Bucky finally didn’t have headphones in, so you decided it would be a good time to set some things straight before you literally went into battle with him.

Cautiously, you spoke up, “Look, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye but we really need to-“

He cut you off sharply “Once we touch down I’ll take the northeast side of the compound and you can take the south side. They apparently keep their lab in a big room on the south side, so you head that way and ransack the lab while I take down Haverford, who’s quarters are up in the north end. Got it?” Not even listening to what you had tried to say, Bucky simply started barking out a game plan at you.

“Sure, but I was saying that we-“

Bucky sighed dramatically, “Look Y/N, we just need to do our damn jobs and get this over with. Alright?”

“But Steve said-“

“I don’t care what Steve said.” He snapped, “I’m not here to make nice.”

And with that, you sat in silence again for the last few minutes of the flight. The quinjet landed in an open forrest area, roughly a 10 minute walk away from where Haverford’s compound was supposed to be. Of course, you couldn’t land right next to it without risking them hearing and giving yourselves away. So, you and Bucky began the short trek to the complex, once again in complete silence the whole way there. 

Finally, you arrived upon a large monster of a building. It took up almost the entirety of the empty field that it occupied, with no windows around it whatsoever. To anyone else, it looked like from the outside to be just an eery abandoned building. You and Buck snuck around to the backside where a hatch door was used to get into the lower level of the building. 

“When we’re done,” Bucky finally spoke for the first time in over 15 minutes “How about we meet up back here at this door, so that we can leave asap and not waste time trying to find each other in this fucking maze. Good?”

You swallowed, remembering the “plan” Bucky had laid out earlier on the jet. You really didn’t feel right about splitting up with him. The compound was massive and neither of you had ever navigated it before. Sure, Steve had shown you a basic floor plan of it and talked about where he believed they were making the serum, but that was it. You didn’t know your way around this territory, and you didn’t know what Haverford’s men were like.  And on this mission, it was just you and Buck. You didn’t have the other avengers around to look out for you, or be your eyes and ears over the comms. 

“Bucky, I don’t know if we should separate. This place is big.” You finally admitted.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle” He grumbled out, which should have sounded like a compliment but came out as more of something to shut you up and get on with it.

“But what if one of us gets injured or can’t find our way back to the door?” You asked, embarrassed to be admitting your nerves to him. Bucky could see for a moment that you were genuinely anxious about this.

“We have the comms in our ears,” He began in a slightly softer tone than he had ever spoken to you before, “If you need help, just talk to me. I’ll be in your ear the whole time” 

You nodded, still a little worried but trying not to show it.

“Splitting up is the fastest way to do this. And the faster we get this done, the less time we have to spend together.” Ah, there was the Bucky you knew. Back to making jabs at you. That was the last you spoke before he broke the door open and you were in.

—————————

As discreetly as possible, you made your way through the compound, quietly trying to get to the south wing without being heard or seen. Steve said that they most likely were keeping their lab in the largest room in the building, which supposedly should be through the last door on the south side. As long as you could find it, get the records and evidence that you needed, and get back to the exit in time to meet Bucky, you’d be fine. 

You could hear Bucky through the comms, sounds of grunting and punching obviously coming from him fighting Ian Haverford’s men that he had come into contact with. 

“Looking for something princess?” You immediately stopped in your tracks at the sound of a deep sinister voice snarling at you. Whipping around, you saw one of Ian’s goonies standing just a few feet from you. 

Instantly he charged at you, but it was nothing you hadn’t ever dealt with. Before he could grab you, you took hold of his arm and twisted it behind his back, affectively turning his entire body away from you. Then, using the Widow’s Bite armor that were around your wrists, you tased him in the neck, causing him to fall completely unconscious.

It was then that you realized you had made it to the end of the hallway, and thus the last door which was supposed to be their lab. Prepared for men to potentially be in there, you unholstered one of your firearms, and promptly kicked down the door.

To your shock, the room had no occupants. You quickly reached over to find a light switch, and what you saw next was infuriating. It indeed was Ian Haverford’s lab. Full of tables and stations that held different mixed drugs and chemicals that he was using to create his own super soldier serum, one that he then used on himself and his accomplices. You also saw a station that was entirely made up of a large desktop connected to multiple computers. 

You started to make your way towards the computers so that you could plug in your hard-drive and collect the data that would supply the team with how Haverford had been making the serums. But before you could get there, a white, powdery substance started to sprits down from what looked like emergency sprinklers that were on the ceiling. The substance reeked like chemicals, similar to that of bleach but not as strong. You began to cough a little, trying to wipe the shit out of your face and eyes. You had no idea what the fuck it was or what it might possibly do to you. 

“Bucky” you half coughed half called his name into the comms, “Bucky something happened”

“What?” He grunted out, clearly still in the middle of fighting someone.

“I just got sprayed with some kind of white powder stuff. I don’t know what it was. It must have been part of some kind of booby-trap that they had on the lab, since I kicked their door in, it went off.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky immediately asked, seeming genuinely worried. 

“Yeah I mean, nothings happened yet, I’m still fine. But-“

“I’m a little busy Y/N, if you’re fine for now, just get the data from the lab and head out fast. I don’t have time to keep talking” he quickly rattled off to you, and you heard a loud scream coming from a guy that Bucky obviously just injured. 

You swallowed, still very nervous about whatever the hell just happened to you, but you didn’t want to distract Bucky any further and potentially get him hurt, “Alright. On it.” 

Plugging the hard-drive into the main desktop, you waited patiently as thousands of files started to download from Haverford’s database. As you stood there and waited, an annoying, high pitched ringing began to go off in your ears. At the same time, your vision slowly started to blur slightly, as if you were wearing the wrong prescription glasses. A lump formed in your throat and your heart practically dropped into your stomach, you hated to admit it, but this was deeply scaring you. You’d never been poisoned before. 

You rubbed your eyes, hoping maybe it would help, but nothing happened, the blurriness just got worse. On top of that, your head started to pound, most likely due to the loud obnoxious ringing. It was the powder, you knew it had to be. What else would just suddenly start causing all this? 

“Y/N? You still good?” You heard Bucky ask through the comms, clearly still preoccupied with something else but wanting to check on you. 

You debated telling him about your symptoms. You were teammates, he should know. But on the other hand, It was just a few mostly mild symptoms, and the files were almost finished downloading anyway. You’d grab the hard-drive, run out of the compound and meet him in just a few minutes. You could make it until then. Plus, you didn’t wish to further annoy or distract him from fighting. 

“Yeah. Still good!” You tried to sound as enthusiastic and convincing as possible. It must have worked, because he didn’t question you further. 

Standing over the counter, still waiting for the files to be done, you leaned over the table a bit and made the idiotic decision to close your eyes for just a second, trying to relieve the headache. 

A moment later, you felt a sharp, intense fiery pain in your abdomen as someone reached from behind you choking your neck and thrusting a knife into your stomach. You were paralyzed for just a second with fear, not even able to cry out. The ringing in your ears was so bad, you must not have heard anyone come in. 

Trying to ignore the pain, you instinctively kicked your right leg back hard, hitting the man in the groin and causing him to fall to the ground. However, on his way down, he didn’t miss the chance to slash you in the calve with the knife he had been holding. The stab was so quick you could only gasp in pain. A gasp Bucky must not have heard as he was fighting his own battles. 

Turning around, you fumbled for your firearm for a moment before finally getting it out and being able to pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his chest. Stumbling backwards a bit, you started to feel lightheaded and you were reminded of the red hot pain in your stomach. You placed a hand over the side the feeling was coming from, and immediately felt a sticky hot liquid coat your fingers. 

You didn’t have time however to investigate the stab wound, because as you glanced up, you could see through your blurry vision that 3 more men were walking in through the kicked down door. 

Lazily raising your gun again, gripping the table to keep from toppling over, you aimed as best you could, with ringing ears, blurred vision and now two stab wounds. Thankfully, your training in the red room had taught you how to aim with even a blindfold on, and with a few quick shots, the men were taken down, now lying limply on the ground in front of you. 

Bucky heard the gunshots through the comm, but since you never called his name or made a noise that would indicate you needed help, he assumed you had it under control. 

You let the gun fall from your hand, now that you were alone and for now, out of danger, you were finally able to feel the extent of your injuries as the adrenaline wore off. Ever so slowly, you peered down at your stomach and saw that the hand you’d been holding there was almost entirely now coated in blood. Without meaning to, you fell to your knees, which then painfully reminded you of the other deep wound in your calve. However, you were so tired, and the loss of blood was making it hard to do anything other than focus on breathing.  

You knew you needed to alert Bucky. You couldn’t just lie here and wait, you didn’t have that kind of time. 

“Bu-Buck” you whimpered, trying to be loud enough that the comm would pick it up. But even just trying to talk was proving to be exhausting. You knew you were losing what was probably a lot of blood. Wet hot tears started to roll down your face, you were dangerously close to just giving in to the blood loss induced exhaustion and closing your eyes.

——————

Bucky, meanwhile, had finished taking down the men on the other half of the facility and was waiting for you outside at the spot you’d both agreed you would meet. He spoke over the comms, “I took down Haverford and his men. I’m out here now. Hurry up.” Short and to the point. How he always was with you. 

Immediately, more tears welled in your eyes at hearing his voice. You were desperate, in pain, and exhausted. Despite having a deep distaste for Bucky, you knew you needed him. You needed him to come and find you. You didn’t have enough strength to speak, but luckily the sound of his voice finally brought your own voice back and you mustered up a deep, pathetic and painful whine from the back of your throat…and it was enough to be caught over your ear piece. 

He stood there for a few minutes, getting antsy. Especially since he didn’t hear fighting noises over comms, he assumed you were just taking your sweet time making it back to him.

After a bit of waiting he sighed, grumbling “C’mon Y/N, what the fuck could you possibly-“

His complaining ceased as soon as he heard your one singular cry through the comm. Bucky’s eyes went wide, heart dropping into his stomach. He’d never heard a sound like that come out of you before. 

“Y/N?” He called your name in an almost scared tone, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Bucky swore under his breath, “I’m coming, just hang on” he made that promise to you like it was an oath, and raced back inside the building. 

Sprinting to the side of the compound that you were tasked with handling, Bucky searched frantically through the hallways, popping his head into every room trying to find you….until he did.

You laid there, blood seeping across your shirt and a pool of it surrounding your one injured leg. The men that you had disarmed and killed were sprawled out around you. 

After his initial shock wore off, Bucky ran to you, kicking one of the dead arms dealers out of the way to get to you. He dropped to his knees, eyes scanning your wounds.

“Oh, Y/N” He whispered with guilt and sorrow dripping from his tone. A million emotions flashed across his face. Including anger at the men who had attacked you, but mostly at himself for allowing this to happen. 

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the tears finally flowed freely now. Aside from the pain, you were relieved. Despite you’re not getting along, in this moment you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to hold you, and tell you everything was going to be just fine.

“Okay” he whispered in a stunned tone, trying to calm both you and himself down. His hands hovered over your body as he took in your wounds and decided what he needed to do. 

 “Okay, alright.” That time, it came out more sure, “It’s alright, doll. Just keep breathing for me.”  He tried to comfort you as he whipped out his phone and let Tony and the team know they needed medical there immediately.

Bucky then swallowed, giving you a remorseful look for what he was about to do. 

“Okay sweetheart,” he began tenderly, as he took off the black jacket he had on, and then promptly ripped the sleeve of it off with his metal arm. 

“I’m gonna have to tie this around your leg to stop the bleeding. It might hurt a bit, but I gotta do it” He gently explained what he needed to do, waiting to see a sign in your eyes that at least you understood. You gave him a very weak nod, and that was all he needed to then wrap the sleeve tightly around your upper calf. 

He was right, it did hurt. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected or weren’t prepared for. However, you believe Bucky only told you about having to wrap your leg, in order to half distract you from what he did next. 

A blinding, nauseating pain quickly overcame you as he took the rest of the jacket he had, and with his metal arm and half his body weight, pressed it over your abdominal wound.

You immediately cried out and instinctively reached for Bucky’s arm, trying to push him away. 

“Shhh, I know, I know baby” Bucky, who almost sounded pain-stricken himself with guilt, began to hush you, “I know it hurts, but I have to, I have to” He grabbed your hand that had tried to push him away, and let you squeeze the life out of his own as he continued applying pressure. His thumb softly grazed your knuckles, trying to soothe you. 

While continuing to comfort you, Bucky began to look around as if he expected someone else to also come to your aid. It was then that he realized he’d need to get you out of the building in order to get you onto the quinjet. There was no way the medical team would be able to find their way around in here to get to you in time. And he could see that you’d already lost a lot of blood, and even with the tourniquet and pressure he applied, you were still losing some. 

He took a breath, staring into your eyes with a serious yet remorseful look on his face, “Ok doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you out, but we can’t let up pressure on your wound” he explained, “So, I’m gonna need your help.”

Bucky then took the hand of yours that he was holding and gently guided it over to your abdomen. Lifting the jacket, he placed your hand over your own wound, you whimpered a little at the contact. Bucky swallowed, “I know doll, but I need you to put pressure on it like I was, okay? Can you do that for me?” He looked at you pleadingly, praying that you understood what he was saying.

Having to bite your own lip to keep from crying out again, you started to press down on your stomach with the little strength you still had. Bucky could tell you were trying by your obvious change in facial expression, “That’s it. Just like that, that’s my girl” he praised, quickly swiping one of your tears away. It wasn’t a lot of pressure, but it would do. 

Ever so gently, trying to avoid hurting your injured leg, Bucky gracefully slipped his arms underneath you and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest. You moaned a little at the shift in movement, “Shhh, I got you doll. I got you” he whispered into your hair as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck. 

He quickly made his way back out of the compound with you in his arms, thanking god when he saw the medevac quinjet was already out there waiting for you guys. Bucky tenderly laid you down on the stretcher, taking hold of your hand again as soon as he was able. 

“She was poisoned with something and then stabbed in her lower left calve and left quadrant of her abdomen” He immediately started rambling off what had happened to the medical team and Dr. Cho. 

“Poisoned with what?” Someone asked, he didn’t see who it was cause he wasn’t taking his eyes off of you. 

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, “I think she said it was white and powdery, I can’t remember.” Internally, he was kicking himself so hard for not having immediately ran to you when you told him about the poison. He shouldn’t have just written you off and told you to deal with it. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things. 

Bucky sat on the little bench in the quinjet right next you, still holding your hand, while the team got to work on your injuries. Technically, he should have been sitting at the front of the jet, out of their way, but no one was going to tell an upset Bucky Barnes what to do. 

As they began working your leg, removing the tourniquet and getting a shot of lidocaine ready to numb the area, you saw them preparing the syringe out of the corner of your eye. You begin to hyperventilate, letting out a small whimper of fear. You hated all things medical, which stemmed from a deep rooted fear that dated back to your red room days. After years of being practically experimented on and shot up with god knows what, you didn’t particularly love the sight of needles. Even if you knew you were in a safe environment. 

Bucky, who was still diligently sitting right beside you, immediately recognized your anxious reaction. He too knew that fear all too well. While he didn’t like to admit it, his time as the winter solider and being left at the hands of hydra often caused him to have visceral reactions to medical paraphernalia. 

“Hey, hey” he softly called to you as he gently held your chin and brought your face to meet his, “It’s alright doll, you don’t have to look down there. Just look at me. Right at me.” He held your eyes, squeezing your hand a little tighter to let you know he was there. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me, Y/N. I’m right here” And that’s how you eventually went unconscious, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he quietly shushed you and ran his hand through your hair.

——————

The harsh lights of the medical wing practically blinded you as you tried to let your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings. 

“Hey hon” you heard a soft voice coming from your right side, whom you instantly recognized as Natasha. 

“Well there she is” another voice, coming from your left who you thought was Steve, spoke up, sounding relieved at the fact you were awake. Your suspicions were proven correct when Steve leaned over slightly into your line of view. 

“Welcome back, Y/N” he smiled, clearly exhausted but delighted by your opened eyes. 

Your voice came out raspy and weak as you spoke for the first time, “H-how long have I been out?”

Natasha grabbed a cup from off your bedside table and offered you some water as Steve answered you,

“About three days. They had to get the bleeding under control and repair a portion of your stomach that was perforated. They also gave you some antibiotics to combat whatever the hell it was you were poisoned with,” he explained, “they seem to be working though. Doc says as soon as you’re strong enough, you can finish recuperating in your own room” He ended his spiel with a smile, but there was still one question he hadn’t answered that you were desperate for.

“W-Where’s Bucky?” You wondered why he wasn’t here, as you didn’t see him next to Steve or Nat. 

“He’s right here, Y/N” Steve motioned to the back of the room where you couldn’t see, but Bucky was standing in the corner, eyes red and sunken in like he’d been crying. He immediately picked his head up when he heard you mention him. 

“He hasn’t left this room in three days” Steve whispered to you in a hushed tone, hoping Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Nat cleared her throat, “We’re just gonna go get some coffee” she looked at Steve and jerked her head towards the door, beckoning him to follow her. They both left, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves. 

Slowly, Buck made his way over to your bed, taking the seat that Steve was just in. 

He was almost fearful of what to say, surprised that you had even asked for him in the first place. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, and was positive that when you woke up, you’d want nothing to do with him. And he wouldn’t blame you.

“Hey doll” he croaked out, voice sounding strained, “How’re you feeling?”

You swallowed, “My stomach hurts, and I have a headache” you admitted, still in a bit of pain from your wound healing. 

Bucky nodded, “Do you want me to get the doctor? They might be able to give you more pain meds.” He asked, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. You didn’t know, but for the past three days Bucky had remained diligently at your bedside, alerting medical staff of any slight change in vital signs or if he thought you were cold and needed more blankets. He’d only left a few brief times when Steve had to force him to go eat or use the bathroom. 

You shook your head, “no, no I’m okay. Promise” You offered him a slight smile. 

Bucky stared down at his hands for a moment before he spoke up again, “Y/N, I am so so so sorry. This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you and not had us split up.” He spoke with such guilt and shame you almost felt bad for him, “I was so focused on my own agenda and being a dick to you, that I completely ignored when you needed help. I can’t even-“

“Buck,” you interrupted him, reaching over and grabbing his hand with the little strength you had, “this isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who stabbed me. That’s it. No one else’s” As much as you knew he fucked up with the way he treated you, you certainly didn’t think he should have to take responsibility for you getting hurt. 

“But if I had come as soon as you said you were poisoned, if I had just listened to you instead of choosing to be an asshole, you probably wouldn’t be in this hospital bed” he insisted, eyes getting watery. 

“Well, you were an asshole, I’ll give you that.” You smirked at him, trying to get him to relax, “but you also saved my life.” Bucky looked up at you, “You tied the tourniquet which kept me from losing more blood, and then made sure I didn’t have a panic attack on the quinjet. You might have fucked up a little Bucky, but you certainly made up for it” you gave his hand a little squeeze. 

For the first time since you went under surgery, Bucky smiled, “All the same, I’m never separating from you during missions ever again.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, “that sounds a little suffocating, don’t you think?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Not to me. Nothings ever happening to you while you’re under my watch again”

“Well if that’s the case,” you scooted over a little in the bed, “will you keep me warm before I freeze to death in here?” You were genuinely very cold and were hoping for someone to bring you another blanket, but you supposed having Bucky there would do.

He chuckled softly, “you got it.” Lowering the hospital bed rail, Bucky climbed in and laid down next you, pulling you up close to him with his arm around your shoulders. 

He placed a brief kiss along your hairline, “get some rest, doll. I’ll be right here.” 

————-

Taglist: @patzammit @dpaccione @fdl305 @gh0stgurl

[stayevildarling]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader - Pink Skies

A/N: I'm not exactly sure how I got this idea but it has been on my mind for ages. I miss Natasha so much 🤍 Title is inspired by the song ,,Pink skies'' by Zach Bryan.

Prompt: Natasha and you have always had a special connection. One day a mission goes severely south and the two of you are separated but somehow still find each other's love and connection in the silence.

tags/warnings: mention of blood, mention of guns, mention of violence, mention of bomb, mention of snowstorm, mention of malnourishment, mention of suicidal thoughts, lots of angst/hurt, comfort at the end

word count: 7k

translation: detka=baby

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay , @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometime , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @stepintomyworld , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

As you stumble into the briefing room, feeling both tired from the last few missions lately and many nights preparing for this mission, in all sorts of ways, you instantly notice the tension in the room. There is a shift, the usual pre mission buzzing replaced by something quiet, something dark and you could swear that you could hear the other's thoughts and the concern about this mission. A dim light filters through the room and you take a seat at the table, the other Avengers filtering in one by one, their faces both serious and filled with something else that you can't quite read yet. The mission was clear and it had been for weeks since Tony had mentioned it for the first time.

An old HYDRA base in a remote location in the middle of the Siberian wilderness. It had been located buried under thick ice and snow for decades but recently discovered through one of Tony's channels. And it was believed to hold critical intel, weapons that could seriously harm the outside world if it got into the wrong hands. It had taken weeks of preparation, new gear, new costumes, hours and hours of meetings, filling out reports and gathering ideas. And as you glance at the team again, you notice how much it had tired them, no mission lately having been this big in preparation alone and you notice there that the ,,something else'' in their faces must be the fact that the mission itself would be even harder.

You sit at the table, your arms crossed, listening intently as Steve outlines the plans once more. Your eyes drift across the table, scanning the others, when they reach hers. They linger on Natasha for a moment longer, too long. She is focused, her eyes sharp and calculating but you notice the subtle tension in her jaw and you knew it meant she was worried. Natasha and you had been working side by side for years now ever since Yelena dragged you out of the Red Room and into the Avengers compound, knowing your talents are too great to be wasted by a normal life. They had taken you in, Natasha under her wing and it didn't take long before you joined missions and the compound became your home, the team your family.

She gives you a small nod as she notices your lingering eyes, pulling you out of your thoughts, a silent reassurance that everything would be okay. Her expression softens for a moment before she focuses on the briefing again. And despite you needing to do the same really, your eyes linger for a moment longer, the familiarity in her green eyes, the sense of home. Now, Natasha had been your home for years, pretty closed off when she first met you but quickly noticing how alike you are, how you share the same pain, the same scars from your past. She took you under her wing, teaching you how to become an Avenger by training with you and how to become part of the Team by taking you to Pizza and Game nights and keeping you company for Tony's ridiculous parties. And the two of you had grown closer, from weekly training sessions to weekly movie nights and the two of you bickering which action film to watch. From only one of you joining the team on missions, to you both being essential for the team in different ways. From shy glances with tight jaws to lingering glances in the meeting room, fingers interloping on a dark night or shoulders touching while sitting and watching the sunset on the rooftop.

,,and that's when you come in'' Steve explains, bringing you back into reality and stopping your daydreaming about a certain redhead. ,,We need to move fast, in and out before anyone knows we are there. Y/N you will be leading the infiltration team. Natasha you will provide overwatch. The rest of us will secure the perimeter and handle extraction'' he explains, glancing around the table.

You nod, absorbing the same details you had been listening to carefully for the past few months. There isn't much time to think about anything other than the mission, but as the team begins to get ready, you feel Natasha's presence beside you. As your eyes meet hers, you take in her uniform again, her long red hair and the braids and the familiar safe green eyes locking with your own, almost completing each other.

,,Be careful out there'' she says quietly, her voice low enough that only you can hear her. Her Russian accent slips slightly and you know her well enough by now to know, there is something unsaid in her voice and behind her green orbs. ,,You too'' you reply with a smile, your tone matching her softness. ,,I'll see you when this is over'' you announce. She looks at you with something intense in her gaze, as if she wants to say more but then she just nods and you both turn to go your separate ways and into this mission.

The Quinjet hums lowly through the sky a little while later, your team already on the way, the other teams on your intercoms. You are nervous, beyond nervous as this really wasn't one of your usual missions. So far you had been fighting off the bad guys, mostly missions that would take at most a few days, some undercover ones taking longer but this was something else. With Tony's technology it doesn't take nearly as long as it should and after dozing off for a little while, you hear some ruffling and the announcement over intercoms that you are fast approaching.

Now neither of you had expected the storm and weather to hit as hard as it did. Of course, Tony had brought on some scientist and weather experts to prepare you for the conditions, making sure your gear and costumes as well as boots are made for this. Each of you had a tracker that was nearly indestructible as well as a backpack with essentials if the weather would hit as expected. But the storm was much faster and harder than anyone could have anticipated. What was supposed to be a quick in and out operation, turns into chaos within minutes. The blizzard almost swallows everything, including nearly the Quinjet and before you know it your communication lines are down and your team is getting separated.

You push forward, despite the low visibility and the freezing cold on your skin, determined to complete this mission. You almost reach the target location, despite not having a map or a way to communicate, remembering the maps from all the meetings and the large bridge you are currently trying to cross when an explosion suddenly rocks the ground beneath your feet. A landmine must have been hidden underneath the snow, the blast sending you tumbling down a ravine. The fall feels endless and the only thing you can see as you drop is darkness and snow before you fall to the floor, the snow at the bottom of wherever you are shielding you from any serious back injuries.

For a moment you simply lay there in the darkness, struggling to comprehend what just happened as the pain ripples through your body, your ears buzzing and your vision blurring from the impact. Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as you try and assess the situation, having been in predicaments plenty of times as an Avenger and long before in the Red Room. Your leg is bleeding, a deep gash from the fall that the snow hadn't prevented. A part of you knows how hopeless this truly is, your comms are shattered as well as both of your trackers and your phone certainly would have broken in the backpack.

After a moment you practically jump up, shaking some of the snow off, for now ignoring the pain in your body as you try and reach for your phone but just as you expected it shattered from either the blast or fall. You sigh as you reach for one of your torches, and you find yourself inside a tunnel, the drop too far to attempt to climb back up and so you begin walking, having tended to the wound with one of the first aid kits in your backpack for now. After hours and hours of walking, you realise it's the tunnel connected to the HYDRA base but you couldn't access it as you had none of the equipment to get inside the huge metal door. You practically slide down the door, the only light source your torch as you sit there, hoping the team that was supposed to infiltrate this part and get inside to eventually show up and take you with them.

But as the hours pass, eventually two days of staying in the same location, you know it's hopeless and that no one will show up. You decide to leave a note, having brought a notebook and pen on your mission for whatever reason you can't really remember now, telling them that you are alive and would try to find your way back to them, leaving it by the large metal door. The way out of the tunnel is harder than anything you had ever done before, endless walking, endless different ways to turn, getting lost, eventually feeling like you would never get out of there but finally after more hours of walking, you manage to make it to the end, breaking a metal bar before you slip past it and finally seeing the sky again. However, to your disappointment you are in the middle of nowhere, no way of knowing where the team had begun this mission, where you had landed initially.

All you can see is endless white, some trees and mountains to either side but no sign of any civilisation let alone any Avengers anywhere. And that's the first time you break down, knowing how truly screwed you are and that the likelihood of finding you was incredibly low at this point. The cold seems to seep into your skin and bones as you begin walking towards the trees and into the mountains, knowing you couldn't stay in the endless white forever and knowing your best chance at survival would be to do this the old fashioned way. As soon as you reach the forests, still covered in snow but much less cold and wet, you collapse onto the floor, taking the backpack off yet again and laying out your only belonging for the foreseeable future.

Inside you find, the torch and multiple batteries, your first aid kit, the notebook and pen, some water inside a large bottle, multiple protein bars and electrolyte packets as well as a foldable emergency blanket, a knife and obviously your weapons. A part of you is glad Tony decided to go this overboard as many of the Avengers had protested on carrying all of this equipment, claiming they don't need it, but you couldn't be more grateful to the old man right now insisting on you all carrying it, knowing you needed this more than ever if you want to survive. You try and remember the maps and what they said about the nearest city incase of an emergency landing on the way there or back but you remember them saying it was miles away, hence the multiple teams and Quinjets especially equipped for this type of mission.

Natasha lingers on your mind, the way her hair looked so beautiful the last time you saw her, the smile on her face and the worry. You wonder what she is thinking, if she is looking for you, if they are even back yet and know this mission failed. You know she must have watched the fall with her team and you pray that they don't assume you are dead and would look for you because you know this was nearly impossible. With the rest of the day, you decide to use one of your old Red Room methods to tell the time, using your instincts and mostly the sky to guide you, knowing if you lost track of time eventually this would catch up with you and be a great danger. And so you scramble for any dry wood that you can find, using your skills to make a fire in order to finally warm up and find some shelter, knowing the chance of wild animals was low with this weather but knowing it wasn't impossible. With the knife in your hands, you close your eyes but sleep remains a stranger at first and so you simply stare at the sky, turning different shades as the night carries on and somehow your thoughts only linger on Natasha and wanting to get back to her.

The next day, you decide to carry on walking, trying to find water and moving on. You aren't sure what is driving you forward, whether it was your will to survive, wanting to get back home to your family and team, knowing your chances of surviving this are pretty low. But you carry on, through the mountains, through the forests filled with snow, the snowstorms following you wherever you go as you keep your feet moving, despite every single bone in your body hurting and every single thought in your head telling you to just lean against one of the trees and await your faith. For the days to follow you keep pushing, especially through the night, knowing it was much safer for you to find sleep and rest during the day. And you had managed well, surviving of water and the occasional fish you managed to find on your way through the mountains and the occasional frozen pond or lake that you managed to break through with your knifes, knowing you needed the stuff in your backpack for tougher times to come.

Eventually after days of walking, trying to push the pain and the cold aside, you find shelter in a small cave, hidden from the wind and storms. It wasn't much but enough to get you rested, knowing you needed a good nights sleep to restore your energy. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to converse heat and look out at the storm outside. The sky had turned a deep pink as the sun dipped below the horizon, and for a moment, the cold stops as you think about Natasha again, wondering if she was maybe looking at the same sky, thinking about you. A part of you wishes you would have told her, told her how your heart beats for her, how you only managed to heal the scars of your past with her by your side, how she made every ugly thought about yourself beautiful, how she healed the most broken parts of your soul and how she had lifted you up from the most darkest of times. You wish you would have told her about how much your hands and knees shake whenever you are near her, at the beginning certainly from nerves but eventually from butterflies as they would erupt in your stomach whenever you are near her.

Neither you or Natasha had been the cheesy type, the ones with big love confessions or maybe even the type for a relationship, knowing you had both dedicated your life to a greater goal. But as the sky turns dark and the cold returns, you wish you would have told her, knowing it would have never changed your fate but you wish she would have known, known that there was someone out there who loves her deeply, more than the air in their lungs, more than the blood in their body keeping their heart pumping. You would give your life for Natasha at any given moment and you hate yourself for the possibility of her never knowing how you feel, never knowing whether she may feel the same, whether the glances truly meant something, the shoulders brushing against each other, the pinky promises or the smile she had reserved for you. Despite the heartache, the thoughts of Natasha bring you comfort and you eventually manage to find sleep again, your body finally getting the rest you needed.

The next morning, the storm had mostly eased and as you walk out of the cave, backpack on your back, you know this is your chance to finally get some miles in, knowing if you walk through the large fields of nothing, skipping the mountains and hills that you may actually be able to get anywhere, knowing the possibility of getting caught in the storm was there but with no way of contacting anyone and slowly loosing your sense of time, you push forward, the thought of Natasha still lingering on your mind.

Meanwhile, Natasha storms into her room, banging the door shut on her way in. Another day of trying to find you, another day of returning to the scene where everything went wrong. Another day of searching for clues, any sign of you being alive. It had been weeks since the mission went south, weeks since you had been gone. She had replayed the moment in her mind a thousand times, watching you fall, searching for something she missed, any clue that could lead her back to you. But the snow and ice of Siberia had swallowed you and they never even managed to find the entrance to the HYDRA base where you had left your note, leaving nothing behind but silence.

She stares out the window at the compound grounds, her hands clenched into fists. The others had tried to convince her to stop this, especially Clint, knowing how much this was draining her and urging her to take a break. Telling her over and over again to let the search teams handle it but she couldn't, not with the thought of you out there, alone as it kept her awake at night. Natasha hadn't cried once since the day you vanished. She couldn't afford to, not when every ounce of her energy had to go into finding you and getting you back. But the weight of it all, the feeling like it was her fault, how she should have been with you, told you the words that lingered on her mind before you two said goodbye, suffocated her. She hadn't told anyone how much it hurt, how much she was blaming herself, how she could still hear your voice, feel your touches and how much she missed them, usually you being the one the redhead would confide in.

Natasha blinks away some tears as she looks over a small crumpled piece of paper, a note that you scribbled down during a debrief months ago, a joke about how ,,we always make it back''. It was stupid really, a throwaway comment but she holds onto it like a lifeline, hoping your words are true, hoping one day she was going to train with you again, make silly pinky promises to you and laugh with you until her belly would hurt. The ink had long faded where she had unfolded and refolded it a hundred times but the words still linger, as she traces them with her fingertips, each night before attempting to get some sleep but failing most of the nights.

,,Y/N'' she whispers as she continues staring out the window ,,Where are you?''. She doesn't expect an answer. She had been asking the same question for weeks and the silence was always the same. But in her heart she knows she will find you one day. You are out there and she knows it. She just has to keep looking.

The remainder of the day she spends looking over mission reports, watching the footage they had over and over despite the low visibility due to the storm but she couldn't stop, not yet. ,,Tasha, you gotta stop'' Clint says as he watches her in the common room, working effortlessly without taking any breaks. ,,I won't stop'' she mutters, shooting him a glance and he lets it go, knowing how much this means to her. The Black Widow carries on, spending every single day in finding you, talking to the team who got separated from you, working with Tony and the others. The lonely evenings, she would spend on the rooftop, your usual spot, watching the pink skies and thinking of you, praying for your safety.

--

The weeks had slowly turned into months and you are at the end of your strength. Every step feels like it could be your last, another snowstorm after another, your body numb to the cold at this point. Despite finding the occasional shelter here and there, often finding water due to the unlimited snow and the occasional scrap of something your body was giving up. You had no strength to keep going, to fight through mountains of snow and the occasional wild animal. You are tired and the last cave you hadn't left in days, your supply of food from the backpack long gone, as well as anything really, the batteries having run out, the pages from your notebook filled with your writing and sketches and so the only thing you had was your water bottle and yourself, the thoughts of giving up and that no one would ever find you.

The nights were the hardest, when the temperature dropped and the darkness would close in around you. But even in your exhaustion, you managed to keep your ritual, looking at the pink skies and thinking of Natasha. It had become your safety, a reminder that Natasha was waiting. Even if you didn't know for sure she was, it was the only lingering hope that you could cling on. Now, you had been so exhausted that you never noticed the snow beginning to thin lately, patches of bare earth visible between the drifts, a sign that you may finally be close to reaching the edge of wilderness. Despite your stomach hurting from starvation, your mouth dry from the lack of water, every single bone in your body hurting from the cold and the walking. But the real battle was your mind, the lingering thoughts of whether you should give up, knowing how pointless this truly was and that despite it all, they never found you, knowing how highly trained and equipped the avengers are and you couldn't shake the thought that they had abandoned you, never found you.

You knew how to make this painless, a quick sudden death within an instant, barely any pain, having learned this in your past also. And you considered it tonight, whether to finally give up and to let go. Using the back of the notebook to write a final note incase anyone would ever stumble upon this cave, despite the unlikelihood of that scenario. Tonight had tested you in ways you hadn't been tested before, not in the years of the Red Room, the killing and the abuse you had endured for years. Interrogations when your cover was blown when they beat you over and over, breaking your fingers or leaving many emotional scars. All your head keeps telling you is that you couldn't make it home, that there was no one waiting at home, how they had given up on you. Your family had given up on you. You take a shaky breath after finishing your writing, before laying down, using the backpack as a pillow, the knife in your palm before looking up.

And until now you hadn't seen it, the small hole above you, enough to give you a glimpse of the sky and to your surprise it was pink again. Now the sky hadn't been pink in a while, causing your usual bright thoughts of Natasha to vanish, replaced by darker ones, hopeless ones. But right now she's back, causing you to drop the knife as you close your eyes and think of her. You can see her in your mind, her red hair flowing freely, her smile, that specific one she had reserved for you, the smirk when you would make fun of one of the guys after a mission or a debriefing. Her usual tough hands, often rolled into fists whenever she would take someone out or was hitting the punching bag in the gym hard, this time holding your own in your daydreams, much softer and less rough. You can almost feel her and maybe it's the fact you hadn't really had a lot of water in the past few days or the lack of food but right now she is here in the cave with you, smiling at you as she lays beside you, using her soft hands to move some strands of hair from your features and wipe your tears.

Eventually the exhaustion creeps in, the knife remaining beside you, Natasha having replaced the dark thoughts as sleep washes over you. And you would never know but Natasha was staring at the same sky, once again sitting on your spot on the rooftop, hoping you are out there, hoping she was going to get to see you again. The Black Widow had struggled lately, losing her balance a little bit as she would fight Tony almost every day, blaming him for this mission, blaming Steve for the way he planned the mission, blaming your team for letting you go down the bridge alone but mostly blaming herself. She had went back to the mission site multiple times, trying to find anything but the HYDRA base was buried under the snow now, the storms that had passed burying the entrance and your note from the beginning. She hates herself for letting you go alone, for watching from above rather than being beside you. She should have pushed harder not to have you in the dangers of this mission and most of all she regrets never having told you. Told you that you are the one she can relate to due to your shared past, how she suffered the same nightmares, the same trauma and thoughts. How you are her safe haven, how she trusts you and knows you have her back.

How Natasha had been in love with you from the first moment she saw you walk inside the compound with Yelena. How she pushed the thoughts away for months until she couldn't keep her distance. How she accepted being friends as she assumed it was best but how it had killed her every second of every day and especially now. She wishes she never wasted any of it. She wishes she would have held you when watching movies together, she wishes she would have kissed you as you sat beside each other on the rooftop and most of all she wishes she would have told you before you left on this mission. How she has no idea whether you love her, the others, especially Yelena having of course mentioned it and teased the redhead about it but how she needed you to know, even if you didn't love her back.

The next morning as you wake up, your breath instantly hitches, remembering the night before and how close you had been to giving up. You pack your bags before stepping out of the cave and as soon as you do, you notice it immediately. The change of scenery, how the snow was slightly lighter, some green sticking out from underneath and then you see it, far in the distance, having to squint your eyes in order to make sure it's real. Movement in the distance. Tears pour down your cheeks as you begin running, knowing you needed to save your strength but not caring. Any possibility of movement was good and you needed to get there, knowing with how low you are running on everything, this was maybe your last chance. It takes you all day, the sky filled with darkness and stars but eventually you find the lights, a small town approaching and again you begin running after seeing the first sign of civilisation in months. You basically collapse into the village before a family approaches you, the woman instantly offering you water and food.

They offered you a phone and shelter but you didn't want to risk a single thing, knowing how these remote areas could be filled with soldiers and you aren't educated enough on what kind and so you decide to let the man drive you into the nearest city the next day. That night as you lay awake in the small barn they offered you for shelter, you look at the sky, it too late to be pink but you think of Natasha and seeing her again, this time falling asleep with a smile on your face.

The journey home had taken you longer than you could have imagined, they drove you to the nearest city before you had to take a boat in order to get to the nearest airport. Now, being an Avenger came with it's perks, not needing a passport handy necessarily and being able to use secure connections. You remembered an old friend living a couple of countries away and so you gave him a call and he agreed to send one of his jets to fly you back home. And after some more hours of endless travelling, this time with enough food, water and warmth, you finally make it home. You know you should call, let them know but a part of you simply wants to get back, fall into Natasha's arms and finally tell her about all the things you had experienced on this journey and how you only managed to come home due to her and the pink skies.

It seems like almost nothing has changed when you walk into the compound, the facial recognition still having your data saved. With ease, you walk past the empty common room, the empty gym and the briefing room, trying to find a sign of someone. Now due to your exhaustion you hadn't realised it was the middle of the night and when that thought registers you sigh, wondering where she may be. ,,JARVIS?'' you call out quietly as you make it into an elevator ,,Yes Ms Y/N?'' he asks and you ask him the question that lingers on your mind. ,,Miss Romanoff is currently on the rooftop'' he explains and your eyebrows furrow for a moment before you make your way up there, wondering what she is doing up there. It only takes a few more stairs before you find the open door and the angel you had been thinking about sitting at the edge, staring into the distance, her hair falling freely, just the way you had remembered it.

,,Natasha?'' you call out but she remains quiet and at first she ignores it as your voice had lingered on her mind for so long, often tricking her as you would appear beside her while training or with the others but she had to learn it wasn't you and simply her thoughts and aching heart. ,,Tasha?'' you try again and this time her head instantly snaps, noticing how it sounded too real to be her imagination. Her face turns from serious to shocked in an instant and she jumps to her feet quickly before she stands there, staring at you in disbelief, the same clothes from that day, despite them being ripped, the same backpack, your same beautiful face despite the bruises and cuts. The same beautiful you, despite how you look thinner, tired and pale.

,,Y/N?'' it's barely above a whisper, her voice breaking as she takes some steps towards you. You notice her hesitation and how she seems scared that this isn't real, that if she touched you you may disappear again. ,,Are you really here?'' she whispers and you look up at her, the exhaustion stretched into every line of your face, but your eyes are the same, the same sparkle. ,,Natasha'' you repeat, unable to form any words at this point.

The moment stretches for a while but before you know it, she runs up to you and you find yourself in her arms as she squeezes you tight and you remain like that as you finally collapse into her arms, having made it home. You cling to her, scared if you let go you may find this a dream and that you are still in one of those caves, that you would wake up and find the endless whites again. Sobs wreck through your body, despite you not wanting her to see any of this but you couldn't hold back.

,,I thought.. I thought we lost you'' she whispers into your hair, her voice shaking with the weight of everything unsaid. ,,I thought I'd never see you again'' she admits, her own tears lingering in her green eyes.

,,What happened?'' she asks as she pulls back, wiping your tears with her thumb. ,,A landmine I think'' you try and collect yourself again before she tilts her head as she listens to you intently. ,,Where have you been?'' she asks confused before you fill her in, on the endless white, the storms, the caves, the town after months, and using one of your contacts to get back. Her jaw drops as your words register before her eyebrows furrow. ,,You just got back?'' she asks a bit dumbfounded before you nod. ,,So you haven't seen anyone? no one knows? we need to get you to med bay'' she urges and you simply nod, too tired to argue with her and knowing you really should have done those things before.

Natasha reaches for your hand as she walks you into the elevator and into med bay, finding one of the night doctors and leaving you in their hands for a moment before waking the others. By the time they return you are in one of the beds, on fluids and pain medication as they had treated you to your injuries. Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bucky and the others stand around your bed, seeing you soundly asleep from both the exhaustion and medication as they stare at each other in disbelief. ,,She made it back'' Steve shakes his head in surprise, not able to imagine what you must have been through these past few months.

,,How is she Doc?'' Tony asks as he looks at you in concern. ,,There are signs of severe malnourishment, dehydration and a leg injury'' he begins speaking. ,,We have given her fluids, pain medications and something to get her to rest'' he explains and Natasha anxiously begins biting her lip at hearing his words. ,,She should make a full recovery but needs rest for now'' he acknowledges and the others sigh in relief. They stay with you for hours before they leave it to Natasha, knowing she was the one truly wanting to be by your side. The doctor had given her your backpack and she found the notebook inside, unsure what to do with it just yet.

She knows the first thing they would do in the morning is need to follow up on this mission and she assumes being able to find some intel and despite the doubts, Natasha begins reading. She finds your pages about how the mission had gone south, how you had walked through the roughest blizzards, how you hadn't eaten in days, before she reads her name for the first time. She reads all the pages until her eyes burn, the confessions how you had found another pink sky and how it reminded her of you and by the last page she is in tears. Seeing how you are so close to giving up and the little line you had written for her in case she ever finds you. Her head falls into her hands as she begins sobbing, tears of relief and sadness rolling down her cheeks as she couldn't be happier to have you back but couldn't be more heartbroken for what you had endured, sincerly hoping it would have been her instead.

The redhead reads over your lines over and over again, unable to believe what you had endured and knowing the strength it truly took to walk through the hell that you had walked through. She reads over the lines of the pink sky and how it reminded you of her and her heart aches and beats faster at the same time, knowing she had been the reason you carried on and found your way home. Natasha had never known what it truly felt like to be loved wholeheartedly but reading every single one of your thoughts, the raw truth behind them makes her emotional in a way that she had never been before. The redhead remains by your side, not thinking about leaving for a second, not caring remotely about the meetings, the mission or any of it, all she wants is to be near you.

It takes a good day until you are out of it, the meds wearing off slowly and she remains right there, holding your hand when you wake up shaking and gasping for breath as the nightmares of the cold wreck through your body. She gently shushes you back to sleep as she lays beside you, figuring the blankets aren't warm enough and wanting to keep you close, still worried if she so much as blinked you may disappear again. By the time you finally wake up fully, you blink a few times, the reality of having found your way home settling in fully. Natasha lays beside you as you are wrapped in her arms, smiling softly at you as your eyes meet her green ones.

,,Hey there'' she softly whispers, her eyes filled with relief and something you can't quite read. ,,How you feeling?'' she asks and you nod in contempt, not fully ready yet to talk as the moment is too precious. The two of you stay like this for a while, soaking in each other's warms before the sunrise greets you and warms your cheek. ,,You hungry?'' Natasha asks, figuring you would want a whole buffet at this point. ,,Yeah'' you whisper softly and she offers a hand to you before guiding you outside of med bay, having cleared it with the doctors as you didn't need any further treatment for now.

,,Where are we going?'' you ask a little confused, figuring she may just take you into the common room and the kitchen. ,,Let's get you cleaned up hm?'' she suggests and you nod as you realise you are outside of your room, almost having forgotten the way there. As soon as you step inside you notice how it had been kept clean, but not by any staff. There is something more personal about it, the windows open for fresh air, the vase that you would always fill with your favourite flowers filled with some fresh ones and as you glance at Natasha standing behind you, you quickly connect the dots. ,,How about you get a shower and I'll make you some food'' she suggests and you nod, before disappearing into the bathroom for a while.

You had briefly showered when making it back to civilisation but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of a shower in your own bathroom, the warmth healing your skin and a fresh set of your own clothes. When you return a while later, Natasha is sitting by the small kitchen island, some coffee, orange juice and breakfast waiting for you and you smile, wishing this was your reality, wishing this could be the scene in front of you every morning. The two of you sit in silence as you begin eating, enjoying each other's company but the air is thick with unspoken truths and things on each other's mind.

,,You know..'' she begins as she glances at the cup of coffee in her hands. ,,You really could have called'' she sighs but a smile plastered on her face. ,,I know I should have, I'm sorry'' you apologise, seeing the concern written across her features. Silence fills the room again and before either of you can speak, you are interrupted by a knock on your door, Bucky requesting you both in the meeting room. The two of you sigh, having enjoyed the moment up until now before joining the others. The reunion is filled with emotions as you reunite with some of the others and Natasha watches silently from the other end of the room, having dreamed about these moments for so long.

,,You were right to never give up'' Clint whispers as he lingers beside her. She glances at him, giving him a brief smile before he begins speaking again. ,,Finally gonna tell her?'' he asks but before she can reply, Tony requests everyone by the large meeting table, ready to talk the details through and just exactly how this mission went south. You tell them about it all, the entrance to the HYDRA base you had found but that you expect it to be covered by the blizzard now and unable to get to, you tell them about the landmine and what had happened, talking through every single detail of your reality from the past few months. Steve and Tony are quick to plan some further steps, deciding whether to abandon the mission or try to find the base one more time and you find yourself stealing away, not wanting any part of this mission anymore and the memories haunting your mind.

Natasha watches you leave, figuring you need some quiet, wanting to give you the space instead of hovering by your side all day but when you fail to show up for dinner, she tries finding you and succeeds immediately as she finds you on the all too familiar rooftop, watching over the sky. ,,Hi there'' she greets you softly as she takes a seat beside you. ,,Hi'' you whisper, too caught up in the moment to find any more words. The two of you remain silent and there is something bittersweet about this moment, watching the pink sky together, this time side by side rather than from afar. ,,Y/N'' Natasha begins and you find your eyes meeting her own, locking almost instantly. ,,I-'' she begins but pauses, unsure how to say everything that is lingering on her mind. ,,I need to tell you something'' you interrupt her, the past few months having given you a new courage that you never seemed to have found before.

,,Every day while I was out there.. I..'' you begin but pause yourself, finding it hard to repeat the painful truth. ,,I know detka'' she interrupts you, causing your breath to hitch. ,,I have read them'' she admits, avoiding your gaze. ,,I don't know if you feel the same and I would never want to ruin what we have but I want you to know that I came home because of you'' you admit and this time her gaze snaps right back to you, unable to believe the words coming out of your mouth and that there is still a doubt within you that this wasn't mutual. ,,And if- this is silly then..'' you begin rambling, feeling unsure by her silence but before you can say another single word her lips suddenly crash onto your own, taking you by surprise, your eyes widening at first before they close, fully embracing the kiss, feeling every single emotion, every single flashback. ,,I love you detka'' she whispers after the two of you pull away and your eyes remain on her, before they find the pink sky again, your shoulders now leaning against each other before your head rests on hers. ,,I love you Nat'' you whisper.

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 8

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You attempt to return to your previous way of life, one without Natasha or Widow, while Whitney discovers an unacceptable revelation.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 4576

Your footsteps are light, barely making a sound as you move through the dimly lit room. The figure lying on the couch is finally resting, her breathing steady, her brilliant green eyes hidden behind closed lids. 

But as you reach her side, you notice the faint pinch of her brows—a small but telling sign of a troubled sleep. 

Gently, you place the curled-up bundle of fur in your arms onto the cushion beside her. 

Widow doesn’t stir much as you settle her near the redhead. 

With a realizing glance at the absence of any comfort on the couch, you go back to your room, retrieving a blanket. 

When you return, you pause for a moment, taking in the person before you. 

Natasha’s face, so often guarded and composed, looks almost softer in rest, though the faint crease in her brow remains. 

Quietly, you unfold the blanket and drape it over her, your movements slow and delicate, as if the sheet might somehow shield her from whatever dreams are troubling her. 

Your hand stills as she shifts slightly, her head turning toward you. For a brief, tense moment, you freeze, holding your breath as you watch her, waiting to see if she’ll wake. 

But her eyes remain closed, her breathing steady. 

A stray strand of red hair falls across her face from the movement, and before you can stop yourself, your fingers lift to brush it back. The touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if afraid of breaking the moment. 

Her brow twitches slightly at the contact, her expression scrunching faintly in reaction, though it’s more of a reflex than wakefulness. 

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips at the sight. 

Slowly, you pull your hand away, straightening up, but before you can step back, you feel a gentle tug on your wrist. 

Looking down, you see Widow’s tiny paws wrapped around your hand, her claws pressing lightly into your skin.

Her yellow eyes, now awake, tilt up at you, curious and questioning. She goes to open her mouth as if to make a sound, but you quickly raise a finger to your lips in a silent, shushing motion. 

At your gesture, her small mouth snaps shut, following your request. Widow tilts her head at you before glancing back at Natasha, then back at you. 

Coming to a decision, the little cat shifts on the cushion, her grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly, as if trying to drag you closer to the resting Avenger. 

A quiet laugh escapes you, more a huff of breath than a sound, and you crouch down to meet Widow at eye level. 

You shake your head at her before nodding pointedly at the redhead and giving the cat a gentle wink. 

Widow seems to understand your silent directions, her claws releasing your hand reluctantly, though she takes a moment to nuzzle against your fingers one last time before padding closer to Natasha. 

She circles on the cushion once, twice, before settling in beside Natasha’s arm. Widow burrows herself carefully under it, her small body fitting perfectly against Natasha’s side. 

Almost unconsciously, Natasha shifts toward the warmth, her arm curling protectively around the little cat as her expression softens, the lines of tension in her face easing at last. 

You straighten slowly, watching the two of them for a moment longer. A faint smile lingers on your face as you take a silent step back, turning toward the door. 

Under Natasha’s protective embrace, Widow’s wide yellow eyes follow you, watching your every move until you slip out of the room.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~ 

The guards stationed outside barely spare you a glance as you enter the mansion’s perimeter, and you offer them none in return.

They know who you are—or more specifically, what you are to their boss—and that knowledge alone is enough to keep most of them from daring to cause you any trouble. 

The air inside the sprawling estate feels suffocatingly familiar, the scent of polished wood and faint traces of Whitney’s preferred perfume triggering memories you’d rather leave buried. 

You move through the halls with automatic precision, the pathways etched into your mind from the years you spent living here. Every turn is automatic, every step calculated, your body remembering the routes even if your heart no longer feels at home. 

Reaching your old room, you pause. Your gaze lingers on the door, your instincts prickling with suspicion. 

Something feels off. 

Your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob, twisting it carefully. The lock clicks open with no resistance, though you know for a fact you had secured it before you left. 

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, laced with frustration. 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath.

Pushing the door open fully, you step inside, your eyes sweeping across the familiar space.

Everything appears untouched at first glance, but your attention is quickly drawn to the figure sitting at the edge of your bed, her presence commanding despite her relaxed posture.

“You’re back early,” you remark, your voice calm, carefully neutral. 

Half-shadowed by the dim light, Whitney’s lips curve into a small, knowing smirk. She leans back on her hands, her fingers splayed against the silk bedspread, her legs crossed elegantly at the ankles.

“And you’re out late,” she counters smoothly, her tone carrying a disarming casualness.

Tilting her head slightly, the gold mask glints in the exposed night light as she studies you with a look that feels too calculated to be innocent.

“Wanna tell me where you’ve been?”

In the past, her question would have sounded harmless to your ears—a simple inquiry you’d answer without a second thought, trusting her completely. 

But now, the words land differently. 

The casual tone feels deceptive, masking something deeper. It’s not a request; it’s a test, a command cloaked in false sweetness. 

For a moment, you hold her gaze, weighing your response. Her expression doesn’t shift, but the stillness in her posture speaks volumes. 

Whitney doesn’t need to explicitly demand answers. Her presence alone does the job. 

“I went back to my place to grab some things,” you reply plainly, your tone deliberately calm as you turn away from her. 

Moving toward the couch, you shrug off your jacket, letting it slide from your shoulders. 

But as your hand grips the fabric to fold it, something makes you pause.

This isn’t one of your jackets.

A small smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush over the familiar black leather, realizing you must have grabbed Natasha’s jacket without even noticing.

The faint scent of her still clings to it, grounding you for a fleeting moment. 

“This is your place,” Whitney’s voice comes from behind you, smooth and controlled. “Anything you needed, I could have gotten for you.”

Before you can respond, her arms snake around your waist, her movements deliberate as her chin comes to rest lightly on your shoulder. 

She holds a neatly wrapped box in one hand, extending it up toward you.

Folding Natasha’s jacket carefully, you place it on the couch, out of Whitney’s line of sight, and take the box from her.

Removing the lid, you reveal a sleek new phone nestled inside.

“It’s the latest model,” Whitney remarks, her tone casually proud. 

You huff softly, disbelief flickering across your face as you close the lid. 

Your phone had mysteriously disappeared a few days ago, and you don’t need to guess too hard about who’s responsible.

Placing the box back in her hand, you keep your tone light but firm. 

“Thanks, but I’ll keep looking for mine,” you say evenly. “There’s stuff on there that’s important to me.”

A soft scoff comes from Whitney as she tosses the box dismissively somewhere. 

“You mean pictures and videos of that cat,” she says, her tone mocking.

Your response is immediate, unflinching.

“Like I said—important to me.”

Her grip tightens slightly at your tone, her voice dropping into a whisper as she leans closer, her breath brushing against your neck. 

“I’m trying to help us start over here,” she murmurs, her tone softening in a way that feels practiced. “So that we can be like we were before.” 

The cool touch of her mask grazes your skin, a stark reminder of who she is to the world—and to you now.

It’s impossible to ignore the difference. 

She straightens as you turn in her arms, her hands lingering on you as if reluctant to let go.

Not able to see her whole expression, your hand lifts hesitantly, brushing the edge of the metal mask that conceals half her face. 

“You used to never wear this around me,” you remark, your voice low but steady.

Her reaction is immediate—her head pulls back sharply from your hand, her gray eyes narrowing in warning. 

“That was before you decided to abandon me,” she snaps, her tone colder now, tinged with a bitterness you’ve come to expect.

Your expression shifts to something unreadable, neutral, as you lower your hand to your side. 

“Maybe we’ve just become different people,” you reply softly. 

Whitney’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Slowly, her hands move to the back of the couch, her body leaning forward deliberately, effectively boxing you in. 

“No,” she counters firmly, her tone quiet but laced with steel. Her gaze hardens, cutting through any remaining facade.

“Just you. I haven’t changed.”

She leans closer, her voice dropping into a whisper, each word delivered with precision.

“I used to be your everything. And I still can be.” Her eyes search yours, unrelenting.

“Just let me back in. Only me.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication, as her gaze pierces yours.

“You owe me that much,” she finishes, her voice soft but pointed, the accusation embedded within her tone slicing through your resolve. 

You close your eyes briefly, the guilt rising like a tide within you, threatening to pull you under.

Her words strike deep, tugging at the cracks in your armor where your past with her still lingers. 

Memories of shared moments—of trust, dependence, and betrayal—flood your mind, blurring the lines between who you were then and who you’ve become now.

Releasing a deep breath, you open your eyes to meet hers. Slowly, you lift your arms and wrap them around her, pulling her into a loose embrace. 

The motion feels mechanical, more an attempt to appease than a genuine act of comfort. 

“Okay,” you mumble softly, your voice muffled against her shoulder. 

The word feels heavy in your mouth, weighted with the concessions you’re making and the pieces of yourself you’re once again offering up to keep the peace.

Whitney’s arms tighten around you in response, her grip possessive as she burrows closer.

Her voice is quiet, almost tender as she whispers, “Good girl.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~ 

One Year Ago

Whitney sits at the head of the table, her eyes scanning the agreement laid out before her—terms negotiated between two minor rival crime families trying to end their long time feud.

The dim light from the chandelier above casts a soft glow on her polished gold mask, which rests on the table beside an opened bottle of wine.

She leans forward slightly, her slender fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. Raising it to her lips, she takes a measured sip, her movements slow and deliberate as she reclines in her chair. 

The quiet moment of control is interrupted when two hands suddenly appear from behind her chair, moving toward her neck.

Instantly, her eyes narrow, the faintest flicker of paranoia flashing through her mind. Her fingers tighten on the glass, her muscles coiling in preparation for defense.

But then a cool touch of metal brushes against her collarbone, accompanied by a familiar voice.

“A lovely necklace for a beautiful woman,” you murmur, leaning into view with a slight smirk on your lips. 

Whitney’s grip on the glass relaxes, her wariness dissipating as she recognizes you. Her gaze flicks to the side where your face is now close to hers, and she allows herself a faint smile.

After clasping the ends of the necklace, you move to the edge of the table, taking a seat. 

Whitney brushes a strand of black hair behind her shoulder, reaching up to hold the necklace to the light. The jewels catch the glow, casting tiny reflections across the room.

“Nice work,” she remarks, her hand sliding effortlessly to rest atop your leg. Her touch is light, almost casual, though the possessiveness in the gesture is unmistakable.

“The job wasn’t too difficult for you, was it?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning back on your hands.

“Your tip was spot on as usual,” you reply, your tone carrying an easy confidence. “Though, you’d think for something so precious, they’d have stored it in a high-security bank locker or something. Not just a simple safe in their bedroom closet.”

“The rich always think they’re untouchable,” Whitney remarks, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. 

You place your hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before lifting it to your lips. Your kiss is soft, featherlight, and the smirk that follows makes her eyes gleam.

“Are you?” you tease, your tone warm with amusement.

Whitney’s smirk widens, her posture relaxing slightly.

She loves this expression of yours—the one that focuses entirely on her, the affection in your eyes reserved solely for her.

But the moment is short-lived. 

A black blur suddenly darts across the table behind you, landing neatly on your lap.

Widow nuzzles against your side as she settles, her small head tilting up to look at you with an affectionate chirp. 

Whitney’s lips press into a thin line as you release her hand, your attention immediately shifting to the small animal. 

Your fingers move instinctively to scratch behind Widow’s ears, and a soft, fond smile crosses your face—one Whitney had always believed belonged exclusively to her. 

“Well, Widow also made it easy too,” you add, your voice light as you stroke the feline. “She had the little girl and her family completely smitten with her adorable little face. Once she got in the house, she unlocked a window for me to slip inside. In and out, no alarms, no fuss.”

You squish Widow’s face gently, bending down to nuzzle your nose against hers. 

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” 

The cat lets out a happy meow, nuzzling closer to you, and your soft laughter fills the room.

Whitney exhales sharply, turning her head away in frustration.

The growing sense of regret bubbles in her chest—the regret of ever letting that cat into your life, of allowing her to claim a piece of your heart that once belonged entirely to her.

The thought eats at her, fueling the slow burn of jealousy simmering beneath her composed exterior.

Whitney reaches up, her fingers deftly unclasping the necklace, and with an almost dismissive motion, she tosses it onto the table.

The clatter of jewels against wood echoes sharply in the quiet room. 

Pushing her chair back, she stands with deliberate purpose, her movements measured, her posture rigid.

The sound pulls your attention immediately, your laughter fading as your gaze follows her movement.

Your eyes flick to the discarded necklace, then back to her. Tilting your head slightly, your smile dims into an expression of cautious concern.

“Everything okay?” you ask, your voice careful, as if trying to gauge the sudden shift in her mood. 

Whitney straightens further, her figure towering over you, a shadow of elegance and control.

Her sharp gray eyes flick briefly in irritation to Widow, who is contentedly nestled in your lap, before returning to you.  

“I have some people coming for a meeting tomorrow,” Whitney says, her tone vague, deliberately nonchalant. 

You know her too well to miss the subtext.

Your criminal expertise has always lied elsewhere: stealth, cunning, and precision.

The darker side of her world has never been yours, and you’ve never wanted it to be.  

Your head tilts downward slightly, your gaze drifting to the side as you process her words. You don’t press her for more details; experience has taught you better. 

Instead, your hand moves to the golden mask resting on the table, the cold metal a stark reminder of who Whitney is and the role she has in her world.

Wordlessly, you lift the mask and place it into her hand.

There’s no judgment in the gesture, just quiet understanding. When your eyes meet hers again, you offer her a small, faintly resigned smile.

“Okay,” you reply simply. 

Cradling Widow carefully in your arms, you stand and move toward the hallway leading to your room where you’ll likely remain until she concludes her business. 

The following day, Whitney sits at the head of the same table, her posture composed and commanding.

Her golden mask conceals half of her face this time, its gleam catching the dim light. 

Before her, the two crime family heads sit across from each other, their voices raised in a heated argument as they hurl accusations back and forth.

“We put up that necklace as collateral, and now that we’ve repaid our end, you’re saying you won’t give it back!” one of the men shouts, his face red with frustration.

“I’m saying I don’t have it with me at the moment,” the other counters coolly, his tone dripping with indifference.

“I knew we should’ve never trusted you people!” the first man snaps, his fist slamming against the table.

Whitney leans back calmly, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest of her chair.

Her gray eyes shift to one of her guards, who slips into the room silently and gives her an affirming nod. With a flick of her fingers, she motions for him to proceed.

“Gentlemen,” Whitney interjects smoothly, her voice cutting through their bickering like a blade. “I believe I can give an answer to this little situation of yours.”

At her signal, the guard drags a struggling figure into the room.

The man’s head is covered with a bag, his muffled protests filling the tense air. The guard forces him to his knees, holding him firmly in place.

“Let me go! I’m innocent!” the man pleads, his voice trembling.

Whitney rises gracefully from her chair and approaches the tied-up figure. With a single, fluid motion, she rips the bag from his head, revealing his panicked expression.

“Seeing how the last person to have the necklace was you,” Whitney says, her tone icy, “you can see how hard it is for me to believe that.” 

The man recoils at the sight of her, his fear evident as his wide eyes dart toward the others at the table. His gaze locks onto one of the heads, his desperation palpable.

“You have to believe me!” he pleads. “I didn’t take the necklace! It was secured when I checked yesterday!”

The other family head narrows his eyes at the man, his tone accusatory. 

“So he is one of yours. I knew it. He probably already sold it. That piece was worth millions! How do you expect to pay us back?”

The room erupts into chaos as the two men begin shouting at each other, their accusations flying back and forth. 

Whitney remains silent, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she watches them unravel. She waits patiently, knowing the exact moment to step in and present herself as the solution to their disputes. 

It’s a calculated move, one that cements her position as the one they can trust—or fear—to lead them through any crisis. 

A faint creak of the door interrupts her focus. Her sharp eyes flick toward the edge of the room just in time to catch a black blur before it is pulled back, disappearing through the crack. 

Her gaze hardens as she briefly glimpses your face through the opening before you vanish from her sight. 

Her smirk fades instantly.

Cursing under her breath, Whitney excuses herself with a clipped, “I’ll be back shortly,” and strides purposefully after you without waiting for a response.

When she reaches the outside of your room, she pauses, removing the mask from her face. Her expression shifts as she pushes the door open. 

The dimly lit space greets her, and her eyes quickly settle on you, sitting on the couch with your back to her. Your shoulders are hunched, your figure curled protectively around something in your arms. 

She doesn’t need to guess what it is.

Your voice breaks the silence, soft and tinged with quiet devastation. 

“Did you know?” you ask, the words trembling slightly. “When you sent me for that necklace, Whitney…did you know this would happen?” 

She doesn’t respond immediately, but her silence is telling, the weight of it hanging in the room like a verdict.

You’ve already pieced together the truth. 

“Don’t hurt that man, Whitney,” you say, your voice firmer now, though it carries a note of pleading. “Not for something I did. Please…just let him go.”

After a brief moment, Whitney finally moves. She steps forward slowly until she’s standing directly behind you. 

Her sharp gray eyes darken as they linger on the little creature in your arms, the one offering you comfort—comfort that before, she was the only one to provide. 

The cat raises her head briefly at her approach, its yellow eyes narrowing at her before turning away dismissively and nuzzling closer in your arms.

A flicker of irritation crosses her face, a crack in her composed demeanor, before she smooths it away, her expression shifting back to something controlled, deliberate.

Her arms snake around your shoulders, wrapping you in a firm embrace. Her chin rests lightly atop your head as she holds you close, her body caging you in. 

“Alright,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost soothing. 

She feels the tension in your shoulders begins to ease, your body instinctively relaxing into the familiar warmth of her embrace at her apparent acceptance.

Her arms tighten around you subtly, the gesture more possessive than affectionate, as her voice drops to a low whisper against your hair.

“Whatever you say,” she breathes, the words deceptively gentle.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~ 

Present Day

Whitney steps into your room, her gaze immediately falling to your figure leaning against the armrest of the couch, your back turned to her.

The soft light from a nearby lamp casts faint shadows across the room, illuminating your distracted posture.

As she strides further inside, her eyes catch on something on the side table—a piece of old newspaper, its yellowed edges curling slightly and its headline stark in black ink: “Tragedy Strikes: Family Caught in Crossfire During Criminal Shootout.”

Her eyes narrow as they drift to the faded photograph accompanying the article. The image is grainy, but the family’s figures are clear—a man standing beside his wife, their hands protectively on the shoulders of a little girl nestled between them. 

The man’s face tugs faintly at her memory, though it’s blurred by time, his panicked pleas of innocence echoing faintly in her mind.

Her fingers curl around the edges of the paper before crumpling the article in her hand.

She thought she had buried all the traces of this incident. Though she isn’t surprised. She knows you must have hidden pieces of it away, unwilling to let go of the memory–of the guilt.

It’s evidence. Evidence of the first crack in your trust in her, a fracture she’s spent trying to patch and conceal.

Regaining her composure, she moves to stand just beside the couch, her imposing figure looming slightly behind you. 

Her gaze narrows when she notices your hand absently tracing the black leather sleeve of the jacket you’re wearing. Something about the way you touch it makes her stomach twist.  

Her lips press into a thin line, her irritation bubbling beneath her composed exterior. She calls your name, her voice sharp yet measured.

Once.

Then again. 

The second time, you snap out of your thoughts, your posture straightening as you turn to face her.

Your eyes blink a few times before focusing on her, as if dragging yourself back to the present. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice soft, distracted. “What did you say?” 

Whitney studies you intently, her gray eyes sharp as they search your expression. She keeps her features impassive, but her mind is racing.

It’s not the same.

You’re here, by her side again, but the look in your eyes isn’t what it used to be. She knows it too well to see the difference—that far-off gaze, the way your attention seems divided. 

It’s a silent confirmation of what she already suspects. 

That not every piece of your heart belongs to her anymore, maybe even less so now than before.

That’s not acceptable. It never was. 

“I have a job I need your help with,” Whitney says finally, her tone carefully casual, though the edge of control is there. She extends a folded paper toward you. “It’s a request from one of my father’s old clients. They’ve asked us to retrieve something for them.”

You take the sheet from her, unfolding it as your eyes scan the text. Your body tenses as you reach the description of the target, realization dawning instantly.

“But this is—” 

“Another chance,” Whitney cuts you off smoothly. Her hand moves with practiced ease, tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet hers. The pressure is light, almost tender, but her intention is clear.

Her gray eyes bore into yours, sharp and unyielding, her voice dropping to something quieter but no less insistent.

“This time, we’ll finish the job together,” she says, her words laced with a promise—and a warning. “Like we were supposed to.”

There’s a pause, and then you nod, your voice soft but resigned. 

“Okay.”

Whitney watches you closely for a moment longer, her eyes searching for any hint of defiance, but you remain still.

Satisfied, she releases your chin, her touch lingering just a second longer than necessary before stepping back. 

Before she can fully turn away, your hand catches her wrist, stopping her in place. Your voice drops into a whisper, tentative, almost pleading.

“You’ll keep your promise?”

Whitney hesitates for the briefest moment, her rehearsed reassurances ready to spill out. 

But then her gaze flickers to your bed, and she freezes. 

Nestled among the folds of your sheets is something that sets her teeth on edge—a small cat toy, unmistakably styled after a red-haired figure.

The bright, taunting hair is an unwelcome reminder of her.

The sight stokes her irritation, her fingers tightening slightly into a fist.

“Whitney?” you press again, your voice drawing her attention back to you.

She releases her grip, smoothing the tension from her features with practiced ease. A small smile curls her lips, carefully crafted to appear genuine, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Of course,” she replies, her tone deceptively warm, masking the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Her mind races, calculating. There’s only one way to ensure your attention—and your heart—returns entirely to her once more.

To make sure there are no more pesky little distractions.

No more rivals.

And this time, she won’t get caught breaking her word to you.

Not again. 

This time, everything will fall perfectly into place.

Because heroes die all the time. 

No one would question one less Avenger in a dangerous world like this.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

a/n: Didn’t have time to make a fic for the holiday so I decided to post this instead. Hope you all have a restful and happy Thanksgiving! Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

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[goldenempyrean]

Hey there, I have a specific Nat request! Natasha and the reader both come down with a nasty case of the flu but are determined to join the rest of the team on a mission. However, Tony, known for his germaphobia, firmly refuses and quarantines them in their rooms for their own good. Left alone in the compound, Natasha and the reader care for each other and grow closer as they bond over their shared illness. When the team returns, they find Natasha and the reader fast asleep together on the sofa, having found comfort in each other's company during their time of need.

Stuck With Me

〚 Notes - I feel like I haven't written Nat in ages, I was meant to post this ages but never finished! Hopefully you enjoy :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You and Nat both get sick and can't go on a mission with the team. At least you can keep each other company 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2300 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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It wasn’t supposed to go like this. The team was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the upcoming mission, the air thick with anticipation and purpose. Everyone was in high spirits, except for yourself and Natasha, who were huddled together in the corner of the briefing room, looking utterly miserable. 

A couple of days ago, the whole of the Avengers had been made to be some PR, and as such you and the rest of the team had spent the day interacting with the public. Everything had seemed fine at the time. Oh how that’d change. 

That morning, you had blinked slowly as you woke up and instantly regretted it. The first thing you registered was pressure, deep throbbing pressure nestled behind your sinuses snd temples. You rubbed your eyes and groaned quietly. This couldn’t be good. 

Beside you, Natasha stirred, you could hear her groan too followed by a deep, rough cough as she pushed herself to sit upright. She cleared her throat and looked down to you, her expression noticeably softening when she took in your flushed features. 

“You too?” She asked quietly, you could tell from her voice she wasn’t feeling well. Her tone was quieter, more reserved. Not to mention the thick congestion which blurred her words. 

You shivered and shuffled up to her, through the thin fabric of her shirt it was hard to miss how warm she felt and you let your head rest against her, “You’re warm.” You mumbled, pushing the back of your sleeve against your nose as you felt it run a little. 

"I think we caught something," Nat grumbled, her voice coming out raspy and sore. 

"No kidding," You mumbled hoarsely in agreement, “But from where?” 

She thought for a moment, eyes narrowing. "PR day. All those handshakes, the photos... people everywhere." She scrunched up her nose before she stifled a sneeze against the back of her hand,  "Did you get your flu jab?” She sniffled, the question popping into her mind. She’d been meaning to get hers but life was just busy and she hadn’t gotten round to it yet. 

Your eyes widened and you gave her a knowing look, “Oh shit.” 

“Oh shit indeed.” 

** 

If only this hadn’t happened today. Today, yourself, Nat and the rest of the avengers were meant to be setting off on a mission to Wakanda to assist in the ongoing vibranium crisis. It was to be an all hands on deck affair, every last pair of hands needed. 

So instead of curling in bed where you should’ve been, the two of you decided it would be better to drag yourselves down to the meeting room and sit through debriefing like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

You honestly don’t know how you’d thought that you’d somehow get away unnoticed. It was painfully obvious something was wrong. Natasha was as white as a ghost and couldn’t go more than a few minutes before giving into a liquid sniffle, all just to keep her nose from running. Just beside her, you were shivering, visibly and helplessly, all while you couldn’t stop beads of sweat from forming on your forehead.  

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Tony had almost yelped when he entered the room and caught sight of the pair of you, “These two are absolutely not coming anywhere near this mission.” 

You groaned inwardly. Of course, Tony would be the first to notice. He had an uncanny ability to pick up on things he didn’t like - germs being at the top of that list. 

Natasha didn’t haste to shoot him a glare, usually in any other circumstance this would’ve been enough to make him back off but the effect was ruined when her breath hitched and she immediately curled into her hoodie with a series of damp sneezes. 

Tony visibly flinched, his hand already reaching for a sanitiser bottle he seemed to have materialized out of thin air. He pointed toward the door. "Out. You two are quarantined," He decided firmly in a tone that read there was no room for argument. "There's no way I'm letting you infect the rest of us, especially me.” 

Steve and the others had arrived by this point and were murmuring agreement. Somewhere in between Steve trying to rationalise with an ever, stubborn Natasha and Tony shrieking about infection, Bruce had ran down to medical and grabbed a first aid kit. 

When he returned, he kneeled down and pulled out a thermometer from the box. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” He reached forward to take her temperature but she held a hand out to stop him from getting closer. 

“Wait.. I need to-“ Her eyes fluttered shut as she quickly turned to the side, burying her face into the crook of her elbow just as a series of harsh sneezes burst out of her, “Hh'kshhh! Hih'tshh! Heh’ktsch!" 

“Bless you.” You murmured softly. You tried to close your eyes to get some relief from the throbbing in your temples but you jumped a little at the feeling of a thermometer being rolled over your forehead. You had forgotten that Stark had insisted on buying the fancy kind. 

The device beeped its verdict and Bruce sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as he stood back up, “Nat 38.2, Y/N 38.5. In no way shape or form are either of you up for this. You’re both at serious risk of dehydration. You need to rest.”  

“Quarantine. Both of you.” Tony repeated though he’d noticeably taken a few large strides backwards. He pointed towards the door wrinkling his nose in disgust before looking up at the ceiling, “FRIDAY, disinfect the room after they leave. Use the strong stuff.” He exaggerated a shudder as Nat fell into a particularly rough coughing fit. 

“Scratch that, disinfect everything they’ve touched. I want this contained.” 

The system announced a “Yes, sir.” and you couldn’t help but groan in defeat. There was no way the two of you would be able to get out of the now and you shivered once more as you dragged yourself up out of the chair you’d being huddled in, pulling up Natasha to stand up next to you. 

Natasha looked like she wanted to argue, but the effort of coughing left her too exhausted to put up much of a fight. Her posture sagged slightly as she stood, clearly feeling every bit as lousy as you did. You gently nudged her, signaling it was time to go, and she gave a reluctant nod. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of sitting out on such an important mission, but it was becoming increasingly clear there was no way around it. 

You caught Nat by the arm gently as she wobbled on her feet. Before the pair of you left, she shot Tony one more withering glare, though it had less of its usual sting. She stifled another sneeze into her elbow, her breath shaking as she sniffled miserably. Tony, ever the kind, sympathetic gentleman of course, took another step back, waving his hand in the air like he could physically push the germs away from himself 

“What are we meant to do now.” You mumbled after you’d left the room. When the others left you’d have the whole compound to yourself, usually in any other scenario the two of you would make good use of the alone time but there was no way either of you for feeling up for that. 

"I don't know," Natasha rasped, her voice was sounding a little worse from coughing, "Sleep, I guess." She sniffed again, her nose still red from the constant sneezing and rubbing. “Or we could stage a jailbreak. Sneak onto a jet before they leave.” 

You chuckled quietly then coughed and chuckled again, “Sorry love but if you think we’re gonna be able to sneak past them while coughing up a lung then you’re more feverish than we thought.” You reached out to rub her back when she started coughing again, “Besides I don’t think you’re up to flying, do you?” 

“Maybe not.” She rasped after catching her breath. The pair of you were just about to turn to make your way to your bedroom when you had a different idea. 

“How about we grab some blankets and cuddle up in one of the living rooms, grab some supplies and camp in there? That way we can watch some movies or something if you’re feeling up to it.” 

Natasha gave you a tired but grateful smile, her green eyes heavy with fatigue. "That... doesn't sound half bad," she admitted in a hoarse whisper, sniffling again as she rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. "But if we're doing this I wanna rewatch the Star Wars movies.” 

You shot her a knowing grin, “My, my. Natasha Romanoff, the great Black Widow is a secret nerd. Who would’ve guessed?” That earned you a small nudge in reply and on the way, the two of you headed to a storage closet to grab  

as many blankets as you could carry without falling over whilst Nat grabbed a large box of tissues and headed off to get some medicine. 

You’d just settled down on the sofa of the common room when Nat shuffled in holding a bundle of things in her arms. Tissues, cough medicine, a thermometer, two hot water bottles and your matching water bottles.  

Originally, you had seen them being sold in a little shop whilst you were out one day. A clear, hard plastic bottle but with a little cartoon of the Black Widow on it. You’d bought it instantly and it had become the main bottle you’d use.  

Of course Natasha had blushed with embarrassment the first time she’d seen it but she couldn’t deny the action was adorable. So the next time she went out, she had gone out of her way to buy a matching bottle. This time one with a little cartoon of you in your fighting outfit. 

She set the supplies down on the coffee table in front of you before flopping down on the sofa next to you, immediately she regretted letting go of her hot water bottle and grabbed it, cradling it for a moment as she got warm before tucking it under her hoodie. 

“You need anything else?” She shook her head and you cleared your throat before reaching to pick up the remote to start the first movie before handing it to her as you remembered that you had no idea which order the movies went in. 

The corner of her mouth quirked a little as a smile played on her lips, “Episode IV, no prequels first.” She began to explain why it was so important even though it went right over your head anyway, “We watch in release order, we’re not heathens.” 

You nodded along, pretending to understand the logic of watching the Star Wars movies in release order, though to be honest, most of the reasoning had gone straight over your foggy, headache-riddled brain. She rambled on for a little, and you occasionally nodded to signify you were still listening until she eventually pressed play, and the familiar fanfare and iconic text crawl started to roll up the screen.  

For a moment, you both just sat there, quietly watching, the only sounds in the room the hum of the TV and the occasional sniffle from Nat. Her head slowly started to lean onto your shoulder, and without even thinking, you shifted slightly to let her rest more comfortably. The warmth from her hot water bottle radiated through her hoodie and into your side, a comforting presence. 

"You okay?" You murmured softly, glancing down at her. She looked exhausted, her eyes half-lidded as they flickered between the screen and you. 

"Mm-hmm," She mumbled, though her voice was so thick with congestion it came out as more of a hum. She snuggled in closer, her hand absentmindedly toying with the sleeve of your shirt. "This is perfect," She whispered hoarsely, her body sagging into yours with that telltale heaviness of someone about to drift off. She was perfectly still for a few minutes until you felt her chest rising suddenly as she sat up quickly and rubbed at her nose, “F-fuck I-” She tried to warn, luckily you knew what she needed but you still barely had time to pass her the tissues before she set off into a flurry of sneezes. 

“Bless you,” You replied softly after each one, watching as she blew her nose and gave you an apologetic look afterwards which made you respond with a gentle kiss to her forehead, “You can’t help it love, don’t worry.” 

The rest of the week was spent the same way, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa together. You’d hold her close when she was shivering and she’d periodically swap out a cloth to place on your forehead. Napping had become the biggest part of the day, the two of you sleeping with arms wrapped around each other. It had been during one of these naps when the team had finally arrived home. Clint had come clambering in, looking to kick back and watch some trashy TV after days of concentration but what he was met with instead was a huddle of blankets and two sniffly girlfriends tucked up in each other's arms. 

He couldn’t resist snapping a quick photo, one which he totally wouldn’t use for blackmail in the future. He smiled softly as he saw how relaxed the both of you looked and quietly tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly and writing a note not to enter. There was no point waking the pair of you up, not when you both looked so peaceful. He’d simply wait to tease the pair of you when you were feeling better. 

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[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

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: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

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

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

[togrowoldinv]

Memory

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You feel like you’ve met her before, but you just can’t remember when or how. It turns out there’s a lot you don’t remember

Note: Hey y’all. I have been swamped these last couple of weeks studying for and taking a part of the cpa exam, but I finally had a free moment to have some fun. I went and saw Argylle, so this is loosely inspired by that. Enjoy it!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

The room is silent aside from the clicks of a keyboard as Natasha tries to break through a firewall. She’s smart, but the person who created it is slightly smarter than her.

The redhead smirks when she is one step from breaking through, but her cheekiness doesn’t last. An alarm sounds and she’s met with at least ten agents swarming all around her.

“Oh hey, guess you guys found the party,” she says in her usual cool under pressure tone.

She uses the agents’ hesitation to begin attacking them to deal the first blows. She takes them down two at a time until there’s only one left. She knows who he is.

“Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Natasha asks.

“You know what I want,” he says.

“And you know what I want,” Nat replies.

The two of them keep their guns in ready position. Nat alerted for backup, but she knows most likely she’ll have to handle this on her own.

“Where is the woman?” The man asks. He shakes his gun at Nat. She sees a weakness in the way he’s holding it. He won’t last.

“If you give me the intel, I’ll give you her location,” Nat says.

“You’re lying!”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m telling you the truth. They’re never really that different, right?”

“Drop your weapon,” he tries another tactic.

Natasha just smirks. She moves her left arm down and the man mistakenly thinks she’s giving in. The moment he shifts his aim Nat takes a shot at him. It’s an easy shot for her.

He goes down and Nat finishes gathering her data from the computer before she quickly gets out of the building. That backup she was waiting for finally arrives as she’s making her way outside.

“Thanks for the help,” she says sarcastically as Steve opens the door for her.

“Sorry,” he says. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. What were you even doing here?”

“Gathering intel,” Nat says simply. She shows him the flash drive and he just shakes his head. “The more I can find out the better I can help her, Steve. It’s an easy choice to make.”

“Nat, she’s so far gone,” he tries. “It might be worth stopping.”

“I’ll never give up on her. She’ll be herself again. I know it,” Natasha says. “Now, will you help me get this to Stark to decode?”

“Of course I’ll help you, Romanoff.”

She nods in thanks. For the rest of the drive, Natasha thinks about what her next step should be. There’s no easy fix to this situation. She needs to go where her mind works best.

Meanwhile, you are working on cleaning tables when the most beautiful woman walks in. You’ve seen her in here several times since you started working here.

She always sits at the table in the corner and orders coffee and a piece of chocolate pie. It’s always the same thing. You’ve never waited on her before, but somehow the stars align today and you’re covering that section.

You walk to her table and take a deep breath. She’s even more beautiful from this close up.

“Hey, how are you today?” You ask her.

“I’m okay,” she replies. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” you say. It’s your typical response when a customer asks you that question. “What can I get for you, ma’am?”

She orders her usual. You feel her eyes linger on you as you pour the coffee and bring her slice of pie to the table.

Something feels familiar about the way she smiles at you in thanks.

“Do I know you?” You ask her. She doesn’t reply, but you notice she looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just that I had some memory loss so I’m just not quite sure who I know at this point.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry,” she says. “I don’t think we know each other though, no.”

“You seem familiar,” you tell her.

“Well, I am an Avenger so maybe that’s it,” she says. “I’m Natasha.”

“Right. The superheroes. It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” you say. “I’m y/n.”

You hold out your hand for her to shake. When she does, you swear there’s still a lingering feeling that you know her. Maybe you’ve just seen her on television.

“I better get back to work,” you say.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” Natasha says.

She stands from her chair and drops cash on the table. Walking towards the door, she stops short and turns back to look at you. You offer her a smile that she returns.

With that, she disappears into the city. The rest of the day goes by seemingly without any other excitement. You can’t stop thinking about your interaction with the woman, which is why you thought you were dreaming when she shows up at your door.

You blink hard to try and wake up, but the reality is that she’s truly here.

“Natasha?” You ask confusedly.

“I don’t have time to explain,” she says. “Can I come in?”

“I- what? Okay?”

She takes that as a yes. She walks inside and goes straight to the corner of the room where she picks up a piece of the floor to reveal a secret storage area.

Natasha fills her bag with the weapons that were stored under the floor.

“What is happening?” You ask her.

“Just trust me,” Nat says.

“I just met you today and you somehow know about this secret area of my house I didn’t even know about. And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies. “Come on. Get some shoes on. We have two minutes.”

“Two minutes before what?”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer before a loud bang comes from outside. A series of car doors close simultaneously.

“Look, I know you don’t know me but you have to trust me. These guys are after you and if we don’t bail in the next thirty seconds we’re dead. Got it?” Natasha says.

“What?” You ask. It seems to be the only word in your vocabulary right now.

She grabs your hand and pulls you through your house. Once you’re outside, you go through the fence to the neighbors yard.

“Here,” Nat says, pulling you to a motorcycle that’s waiting there.

“I am not riding on that,” you say.

“Then you’ll be dead within minutes. Come on, y/n,” Nat says. She puts the helmet on your head involuntarily.

You have no choice but to listen to her. Hopping onto the bike, you hold on tight to her middle as she drives through the streets. At some point, a van is tailing the two of you. Natasha turns down every alleyway and street she can to get you away from the tail.

“When I say jump, you’ve got to jump!” Nat says over the roar of the engine.

“What?”

You’re quickly approaching a road that you can see has no end. She drives full speed ahead before letting go of the handlebars.

“Jump!” Nat shouts.

You cling onto her as you both jump. You have no idea how far the drop is but somehow you land in water. Natasha pulls you to the surface quickly.

You get to shore and try to gather yourself some. You’re so confused about all of this.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Am I okay?” You ask her. “Seriously, you’re asking me that? I don’t know who you are or what’s happening. We just got chased by a van through town and jumped off a motorcycle into a fucking lake. Do you think I’m okay?”

The woman has the audacity to smile at your words.

“I’m sorry, do you think this is funny?” You ask her, feeling fury seethe inside you.

“No,” Natasha says too quickly. “No, it’s just- nevermind. We have to get to the Avenger’s compound.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you tell her matter of factly.

“Y/n-“

“Don’t!” You interrupt her. “Just leave me alone.”

Nat raises her hands in surrender and watches as you walk away. She lets you get ten steps ahead before she follows after you.

“I told you to let me be.”

“You’re up there all alone. I just happen to be walking in the same direction,” Natasha reasons. “Although, the compound is the other way.”

Despite the fact that you were just doing insanely dangerous tasks with her, you feel a certain safety in her presence.

“Why should I go with you?” You pose a question.

You notice her hesitation in answering. Like she wants to tell you something but she just can’t.

“If you just come with me, I’ll explain everything there. Okay? Please give me a chance,” Nat says. “I won’t be responsible for them finding you and finishing the job.”

“What job? I’m just a waitress. Who could I possibly have wronged?”

“I promise I’ll explain later,” Nat says. “Please follow me.”

You relent and follow her. There’s no reason for you to trust her but somehow you do. It doesn’t take long to get to the compound once Nat hot wires a car.

“Y/n?” A girl asks when you are inside. You look at her despondently and she frowns. Natasha gives he’s her a look.

You follow Natasha to what seems to be a laboratory. There’s a large screen on the wall.

“Ah welcome,” a man says. You recognize him as Iron Man. “You’re just in time.”

“For?” You ask.

“The truth,” another man answers. You’re pretty sure he’s Captain America.

Before you can speak again, photos of you litter the screen. There are some of just you and some of you and the other Avengers.

“What the hell?” You wonder aloud.

“Y/n, we wanted you to remember on your own but it’s taking too long,” Tony Stark explains. “Natasha tried to jog your memory just by being in your presence, but that didn’t work.”

“So I do know you?” You ask the woman.

“You know all of us, y/n. You’re an Avenger.”

“But I’m- no. I’m a waitress,” you say. Your head feels like it’s spinning.

“That’s what they made you think, but you’re not. You’re a special agent,” Steve says. “And one of the best.”

“I don’t believe you. This is all a joke, right?”

“It’s not a joke, y/n. Why do you think we knew those people were after you? Or that I knew about the floor in your house?” Natasha asks.

“That’s easy. You’ve been spying on me.”

“No,” she says simply.

“Then how?” No response. “This is just insane. I’m leaving.”

You start to walk away. You hear Natasha’s footsteps behind you.

“Natasha,” a warning voice comes from Tony. “Don’t.”

“You know what, you go ahead. Take a car of ours, y/n,” she says.

She holds up a pair of keys. You reach for them, but instead of giving them to you she throws a punch your way.

You surprisingly dodge it with ease. Natasha smirks at the way you look at your arms in confusion.

“How did I do that?”

“Come on, throw one,” she taunts you.

You do your best to punch her, but of course she dodges it. You spar back and forth until you’ve both had enough.

“Great, now that that’s over. Do you believe us?” Tony asks.

“I’m not sure,” you say. “How could I not know I’m an agent?”

“Brainwashing,” Natasha answers. “Very effective brainwashing.”

“But why?”

“Because you were going to uncover a huge invasion of Hydra in the government,” Steve explains. “We still can’t find the data that you had before they took it from you and erased all of your memories.”

“So the memory loss, that was a real feeling I was having?”

“It was,” Nat says. “The reason why wasn’t a car accident as they told you though. They captured you and essentially knocked you senseless.”

You rub your hands over your face as you try to take all of this in. Just a few hours ago you thought you knew who you were, but they’re telling you something completely different.

“We wanted you to remember on your own, so it might not be so overwhelming,” Nat says.

“So, we’re all what? Coworkers? Friends? I don’t remember any of you, or anything you’re describing,” you say.

“We’re friends,” Steve says. “You’re friends with all of us and with Nat-“

“Steve,” Nat interrupts. “She doesn’t need to hear that right now.”

“I don’t need to hear what?”

There are shouts down the hallway that interrupt your conversation. Tony suits up and Steve grabs his shield.

“Get her to safety,” he tells Nat.

She grabs your hand and takes you down the hallway to a door and down a ton of stairs. Nat locks a door behind her once you’ve reached the lowest level.

“They’ll handle them,” Nat says. “But the further you are from the fight the better.”

“What was Steve going to say?”

“Hm?”

“About you and me,” you prompt her.

Natasha tears her eyes from yours much the same way she did when you questioned if you knew her earlier.

“Natasha, please just tell me. Clearly, everything I thought I knew was a lie. What’s one more thing?”

“Okay,” she agrees. “We were- you and I were together.”

“Together?”

She nods.

“Define together. Like dating?”

“Kind of yeah,” she says. You look at her for more details. The silence prompts her to continue. “We were married. We are technically married.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you were ready to learn that,” Nat says.

“So that’s why you knew your way around my place?”

“Our place,” she says. “But they moved all of my stuff out before you went back there.”

“Natasha, I don’t- I can’t remember anything,” you say.

“I know,” Nat says sadly. “We kept our distance once we realized what they did to you, but we’ve never stopped making sure you were safe.”

You hear the sound of the fight getting closer. Natasha reaches for your hand. She places a loaded gun in your palm.

“I want to remember.”

“You will,” Nat says. “But right now, you’ve got to fight.”

To be continued…

[redroomreflections]

Just Once More

Natasha Romanoff xFem!Reader

Missed Connections Universe - you can read here.

Summary: Princess Natasha of Russia, is to be wed to Prince Amir of Senoria, the only problem is his younger sister catches her eye.

This installment: Natasha is lonely while Prince Amir is away.

Warnings: Cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, virginity loss

Note: Another contribution to society. It was in my drafts and I left it here to rot like all my other drafts. Then I picked it up because I was inspired by kinktober.

w/c: 6.3k

The heavy silk sheets felt more like a cage than a comfort. Natasha turned onto her side for what felt like the hundredth time that night, her restless body unable to find peace. Her eyes remained wide open, staring at the ceiling, while her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t quiet.

The palace was silent. Too silent.

She could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second pulling her further from any chance of sleep. The bed, grand and soft, offered no relief from the gnawing ache in her chest. The emptiness beside her, Amir’s absence, was supposed to be a reprieve. But all it did was remind her of how far apart they had grown—how hollow everything between them had become. She supposed they had a good marriage so far. They barely bickered, hung out often, and had a lot of fun together. He simply didn't feel like a husband. She didn't love him. Not in the romantic sense at least.

She exhaled sharply, frustration building as she twisted the sheets around her fingers. She thought she’d be better at this by now—this life of royalty, this performance. But the truth lingered just below the surface: no title, no crown could cover the fact that she couldn’t give him what he needed. What they expected.

An heir.

The word itself made her feel sick.

Natasha's jaw tightened as she turned over again, her back now facing the wide, empty room. The weight of it all pressed down on her, a constant, heavy reminder of her failure. It wasn't just Amir. It was the whispers in the halls, the subtle looks from the court, and the cold distance that had grown between her and the man she had promised to stand beside.

She couldn’t do it anymore. Not tonight. In the darkness, Natasha pushed the covers off her, the chill of the night air hitting her bare skin. She moved with quiet determination, slipping out of bed and reaching for the robe draped over a nearby chair. As she tied it around her waist, her heart pounded—not from fear, but from the desperate need for something real, something she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Her feet moved before she could think to stop them, carrying her toward the door. She didn’t need to think. She knew where she was going. Natasha glanced down the hall, ensuring it was empty before slipping out of her room. The palace was asleep, its inhabitants tucked away in their rooms, none the wiser to her midnight escape.

The sound of her bare feet against the cold marble floor echoed softly as she made her way to your bed chambers. It was quiet on the trek from her sleeping quarters.

Your room was closer to the guest wing than hers. A benefit of being a royal sibling, she thought, as opposed to the consort of one. The palace had never felt quite like home to her, and her husband never like a husband.

But you? You were something else entirely.

Natasha was used to the feeling of loneliness, but somehow it had intensified over the past six months, growing heavier as time went on. In the midst of it, you were the bright spot in her otherwise monotonous life.

Your friendship came as a surprise. Natasha had always been the odd one out, an outsider, someone to observe rather than befriend. She found that you were the total opposite of your brother. While he was all business and formal, you were warmth and at ease. Where Amir’s touch was distant, and calculated, yours was always genuine, whether a brush of fingers in passing or a comforting hand on her arm when she needed it most. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything—it couldn’t. But the line between what was and what wasn’t had blurred long ago, and tonight, it had all become too much to ignore.

Natasha slowed her steps as she neared your door, her heart pounding louder than the soft footfalls on the marble behind her. She pressed her hand to the cool wood, hesitating for a brief moment. What was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to be here, not like this, and certainly not while Amir was away. But the ache in her chest, the unbearable weight of everything she couldn’t say, pushed her forward.

You were the only one who made her feel like herself again, the only one who didn’t look at her and see a crown, or a title, or a failure. She'd kept her promise not to tell your secret. You had intentionally kept your distance because of it. Though she couldn't figure out why. Her hand came to the door in rapid succession. One. Two. Three.

There was no turning back now.

She listened intently, her head cocked slightly as she tried to make out any signs of movement from inside. A faint rustling sound caught her attention, and she took it as an invitation to push open the door.

"Y/n?" She asked softly.

"Who is it?" Your voice sounded, a bit confused. "Natasha? Is that you?"

"Yes. May I enter?"

"Of course."

You had been in bed when she'd knocked, your feet propped up against the pillows as you read a book. You sat up in bed, the delicate fabric of your nightgown shifting as you moved. It was a simple slip dress, made of soft, lightweight material that clung loosely to your form, falling just below your knees. The top was sleeveless, dipping low between your breasts, the neckline accented with a fine lace trim.

You placed your book down, sliding off the edge of the bed and walking towards the door.

"Is everything alright?" You asked. "It's a little late."

"I know," Natasha sighed. "I just..."

You opened the door wider, a soft smile gracing your lips as you stepped aside.

"Come in."

Natasha looked around. It's the first time she's been in your bedroom. Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the space before stepping inside. The room was cozy, far more inviting than her chambers. A soft glow emanated from the single lantern on your nightstand, casting warm shadows across the walls. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from the small bundle of dried flowers near the window. It was a different than the cold, impersonal decor of her room, which always felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.

She lingered by the door, her fingers brushing the smooth wood as she took it all in. Everything about the space felt more... you. The personal touches, the lived-in comfort, the warmth—it made her realize how lonely she felt in the stark emptiness of her quarters.

“This is... nice,” Natasha said, her voice quiet, almost as if she didn’t want to disturb the peace of the room.

You closed the door behind her, the soft click cutting through the silence. “It’s nothing special, really,” you shrugged. “Just a place to sleep.”

Natasha's eyes flickered to the bed, where you’d just been lounging, the impression of your body still visible in the rumpled sheets. For a moment, she was tempted to tell you why she was there—how the weight of her title, her inability to provide an heir, and the growing distance between her and Amir were suffocating her. But the words lodged themselves in her throat, heavy with the burden of expectation.

"Ah, missing my brother aren't you?" You guessed.

"Yes," she nodded, not bothering to hide the lie.

"That's why you're here?"

"Yes."

"Oh." You looked away for a moment, clearing your throat before meeting her gaze. There was a brief silence as the weight of your words hung in the air. Natasha could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, though you tried to mask it with a soft smile. It made her chest tighten, a pang of guilt twisting in her stomach. She hadn’t come here to talk about Amir, but how could she explain that without unraveling everything?

You gestured towards the bed, inviting her to sit. Natasha perched on the edge of the mattress, the soft comforter a stark contrast to the stiff, unwelcoming sheets in her room. She ran her fingers over the fabric, letting herself get lost in the simple act of touch.

You walked over to the nightstand, the floor cold against your bare feet. You turned back to Natasha, a playful glint in your eye. “Would you like to play a game?” You opened your nightstand drawer and pulled out a well-worn deck of playing cards, the corners slightly frayed from use.

“I thought you might be missing my brother,” you teased, fanning the cards out in your hand. “But maybe you just need someone to play with.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile, the weight of her worries momentarily lifted by the simple gesture. “What do you have in mind?”

You grinned, shuffling the cards with a practiced hand. “How about a classic game of Rummy? Or we could play a round of Blackjack—unless you’re feeling lucky.”

“Blackjack sounds good,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

As you both settled onto the edge of the bed, the tension in the air faded, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. You dealt the cards, the quiet shuffle and snap of the deck punctuating the stillness of the night.

You slid the deck over, and she took it. She dealt out the rest of the cards, taking a moment to glance at her hand.

"So, how's life as Princess Consort of Senoria soon to be future Queen," You asked.

Natasha frowned slightly, her fingers tapping idly on the cards in her hand. "It's been good."

"Just good?" You arched an eyebrow.

Natasha shrugged, the question weighing on her mind. It was the first time she'd been asked that question, and it wasn't one she had an answer to. "I think things are going well."

"You mean my brother hasn't been showing you a good time?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. No, no. We've just been busy. There's a lot of things going on and we've had our projects."

You smirked. "Well, if you ever want a better tour, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"When you're not avoiding me?" Natasha blurted.

You stopped, surprised at the sudden candor. You hadn't expected her to be so direct, especially not about that. You paused, a guilty expression washing over your features.

"I wasn't..." You shook your head. "I have my own life to live."

"And yet, here you are," she pointed out.

"In my bedroom yes," You nodded. "It's usually where I am at this hour."

Natasha pursed her lips. She didn't believe you, and from the way you averted your gaze, neither did you. You hadn't seen each other outside of public events since the wedding. You liked it that way. Less room for confusion.

"Something's bothering you," You guessed as you played your hand.

"How would you know?" She shot back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well, I haven't seen you in months, so..."

Natasha's gaze fell, her hand hovering over the cards. She didn't know if she could trust you. You tilted your head, studying her expression closely. “You know, if you wanted to talk about it…” You began, trailing off as Natasha shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed her.

“Are you?” You pressed gently, your curiosity piqued. “It’s been six months, and I can’t help but notice how you light up around others, but you seem… different around Amir.”

Natasha sighed, her gaze dropping to the cards in her hand. “It’s just… there’s a lot of pressure,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone expects me to provide an heir, and it feels like every day that passes just adds to that weight.”

You nodded, absorbing her words. “That’s a heavy burden to carry,” you said softly. “Have you talked to Amir about how you feel?”

“He’s… focused on his duties,” She answered a hint of sadness in her tone. “I don’t want to add to his stress. He has so much to manage already.”

“But you matter too, Natasha,” You urged, your brow furrowing. “You’re more than just a title. You deserve to be happy, to feel supported.”

A flicker of vulnerability crossed her face. “I don’t know if he sees me that way,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Sometimes I wonder if he even notices I’m struggling.”

You squeezed her hand gently, determined to show her that she was not alone. “He should,” you said firmly. “You’re not just a consort; you’re a partner. He needs to know how you’re feeling.”

Natasha met your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in her eyes. “You make it sound so easy,” she replied, a small smile breaking through her sadness. “But it’s not.”

“Maybe not easy,” You agreed. "I know my brother." There was a pause.

"Can I ask you a question?" Natasha asked. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Shoot." You said as you reached over for a sip of water.

"How much do you know about sex?"

You choked on the sip of water, trying to cover up the cough. "Not a lot."

"You seem very informed," Natasha countered.

"I've read a few books." You set down your goblet. "Listened to stories as you have done. I think you'd know more than me. Seeing as you've done it and all."

"Not willingly." She muttered and your eyes widened. "I don't mean he's hurt me. I just...it's not exciting. I used to hear the handmaidens talk back in the palace at home. They would describe it with such passion and emotion."

"And you're not getting that?" You cringed. Hearing of your brother and Natasha in bed was the last thing you needed.

"I don't even think we're having sex," she admitted. "He's good to me. He's gentle. I feel things but..."

You let out a groan. "God, you are my sister now and I never needed to hear this."

"I'm sorry," She frowned. "I have no one to speak of this with."

"Why not your mother? Surely she can help."

"My mother?" She blanched. "No. Absolutely not. She's more old-fashioned. She thinks I should fulfill my duties and that's it. What if things we are doing currently is what prevents us from having an heir? What if I'm not doing something right?"

You shifted a bit. "I don't know if I'm the person to ask about this."

"Please," she begged. "You're the only one I can trust."

"Alright, alright." You sighed. "Look, you just need to focus on the act and not what happens after."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, enjoy yourself. Do what feels good, not what Amir wants."

"He's my husband," Natasha blinked.

"Exactly."

"So, I should do what makes me happy?"

"Exactly," You repeated. "Do something for yourself. I think he would enjoy it." You would need to wash your brain after this conversation.

Natasha bit her bottom lip, considering the idea. Maybe you were right. Maybe she did need to take control of the situation, rather than let Amir lead. Maybe if she tried something different, she would feel more connected to him.

She took a deep breath. "Is that what you do?"

"What?"

"Do you do what feels good for yourself?"

You stared at her for a moment. "That's not appropriate."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not married," You countered. "It's different."

"How?"

"It's just not the same," You shook your head.

"But..." Natasha paused. "Are you not satisfied either?"

You blinked. "Natasha, it's not about satisfaction."

"So, you are?"

"This is not the conversation I was expecting to have with you," You mumbled, your cheeks heating up. Natasha deflated. It seems she would be getting nowhere. Not that it was any of her business.

"I'm sorry," She muttered.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not."

"Hey," You took her hand. "If you're not happy then do something about it."

"What if I'm not supposed to be happy?"

"Then make the most of what you have." You offered her a kind smile. "There's more to life than just a marriage, Nat."

She returned the smile, grateful for your friendship. Maybe things weren't so hopeless after all. Maybe she could find a way to make things work with Amir. And maybe, just maybe, she could be happy.

"I don't want to go back to my room," Natasha said. "It's lonely."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"Really?" Her eyes lit up, a look of excitement flashing across her features.

"Of course," You nodded. "I mean, I'd feel bad kicking you out."

"Thank you," She smiled. "I'll be gone in the morning. You won't even know I was here."

"Oh, I'll know," You chuckled.

"Well, then maybe we'll have breakfast together," She suggested. "Would that be alright?"

"I would love that," You grinned. "But I need to get some sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow." You returned the deck of cards to your nightstand. You reach over to turn off the lantern.

Natasha's expression fell, a slight pout forming on her lips. She stood, turning away from you, to take off her robe and drape it over a nearby chair. As Natasha moved away to remove her robe, you felt an unexpected flutter of nerves in your stomach. It was one thing to share a space with her while playing cards, the tension between you eased by laughter and light conversation. But now, as the soft fabric slipped from her shoulders and hung over the chair, the atmosphere shifted.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything other than the way her silhouette contrasted against the dim light. The way she carried herself was both confident and delicate, a combination that left you feeling unsteady.

Your heart raced as you considered the implications of her staying the night. It was thrilling, yet terrifying. The very idea sent a rush of warmth through you, mixed with the fear of crossing an unspoken boundary. What if she misread your kindness? What if this moment changed everything between you?

“I—uh, I’ll just,” you stammered, trying to regain your composure. You busied yourself straightening the covers on the bed, your hands fidgeting nervously as you avoided looking directly at her. “I’ll get you some blankets.” You said, inadvertently referring to the way her nipples hardened at the slightest bit of cool air.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, her voice cutting through your internal disorder. She folded her arms over her chest. You finally met her gaze, and the warmth in her eyes made your heart skip. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m fine.”

Her reassurance did little to calm your nerves. You could feel the weight of the silence stretching between you, thick with unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings. “It’s just… I want you to be comfortable,” you managed, trying to maintain a casual tone while your heart raced.

“Trust me, I am,” she said, took a step closer on her side of the bed, she smiled.

You took a breath. She was right. It was just a friendly gesture. There was nothing more to it. You were just being polite. You forced a smile and climbed into the bed, slipping beneath the sheets. Natasha hesitated a moment, then joined you.

She rested her head on the pillow, lying on her back. You matched her position. She could barely make out your features in the dim light.

"So, you are to marry Hosi of Wakanda?" She asked.

"I guess so," You sighed.

"I'm sure he will treat you well."

"Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation."

"Which is?"

"He's a good man."

"That might be the problem," You muttered. "He's a man."

Natasha's brow furrowed slightly, catching the hint of your reluctance. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the weight of your thoughts, but the truth lingered in the air between you. “It’s just… I’m not really into men, you know? Hosi might be a good man, but he’s still a man.”

A flicker of understanding crossed Natasha’s face, and she leaned back against the bed, her expression softening. “I see.”

“It’s complicated,” you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper as if saying it out loud might somehow make it more real. “I’ve known for a long time that I’m attracted to women, but it doesn’t matter. In this world, it’s expected that I marry a man. That I produce heirs. That I fulfill my duty.”

“Doesn’t sound like a life you want for yourself,” Natasha observed gently.

You looked away, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. “It’s not. But what choice do I have? I can’t just defy my family. I can’t risk their wrath. And besides,” you sighed, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “who would want me? A woman who loves women? That’s not exactly what the kingdom needs.”

Natasha regarded you with a seriousness that made your heart race. “You deserve to be happy, regardless of what anyone else thinks. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your desires for the sake of duty.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and profound, as you wrestled with the truth in them. You wanted to believe it, to embrace the idea that your happiness mattered. But the constraints of your reality weighed heavily on you, and fear clawed at your throat.

"If you could marry anyone and be anywhere what would your wife be like?"

"She'd be someone who understands me."

"Who's that?"

"I don't know." You answered honestly. "She'd be kind. She'd be fierce."

"And?"

"Smart, strong." You sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," She assured you. "It matters to you."

"I don't have the luxury of choosing." You sighed. "I just wish I'd taken the chance to lie with Akira before this marriage."

"Akira?"

"The woman from the ball in your kingdom. The handmaiden," You reminded her.

"Did you have feelings for her?"

"No," You admitted. It wasn’t entirely the truth. She didn’t need to hear it. "I didn't. It was just physical."

"Ah," Natasha nodded. "How do you imagine it would be with a woman?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Princess," You teased.

"Well, you're my friend. I want to know what makes you happy," She answered earnestly.

"I suppose it would be tender," You pondered. "Caring, passionate."

"And how would you imagine the act itself?"

You paused. The question had thrown you. You had never spoken of sex, or pleasure, in such detail with anyone before. And now, here you were, lying in bed with your brother's wife, discussing intimacy.

"I'm not sure," You replied carefully, uncertain how to respond.

"You've never pleasured yourself?"

"Of course, I have," You laughed, hoping to dispel the sudden tension. "That's the question you've been trying to get me to answer all night."

"How do you touch yourself?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer?" You quirked an eyebrow. "You're a married woman now, remember?"

Natasha blushed. "It's not a sin to be curious."

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow, facing her. "Well, when I'm alone and there's no one to interrupt, I start by undressing. I let my hands wander over my body, feeling the warmth of my skin."

"And then?"

"I imagine what it would feel like if it was someone else touching me." You continued, your voice dropping to a low whisper. "I close my eyes and pretend that it's a lover's hands on my skin, caressing me, bringing me pleasure."

Natasha's eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place.

"Do you think of a specific person?" She asked.

"Sometimes."

"Who is it, usually?"

"It's not always the same person," You answered, evading her question.

"So, it's not the same person each time?"

"No," You replied, your breath catching as Natasha's hand brushed against yours.

"So, it changes."

"Yes." You closed your eyes. Her hands rest on your, encircling your wrist. Your skin is hypersensitive to her touch as she strokes your inner wrist. "You are my brother's wife."

"And that bothers you."

"It shouldn't."

"But it does."

"Can we not do this?"

"Do what?"

"This," You gestured between the two of you. "Don't do something you are going to regret. "

"Do you think I'm not going to regret this?"

"Regret what, exactly?"

"You and me, lying in this bed together, talking about these things."

"I'm unsure," You furrowed your brow.

"What do you want, Y/N?"

"I shouldn't have brought you here."

"But you did. Why?"

"You said you were lonely," You answered. "I didn't want you to feel that way."

"I appreciate the sentiment," She replied.

"I didn't want you to sleep alone, and I didn't want to wake my servant."

"That's not an answer."

"What do you want from me?" You questioned. "What are we doing?"

"We're just talking."

"About sex."

"About pleasure."

"You're my sister-in-law."

"That doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

"We can't go down this path," You sighed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because," You struggled to find the words. Before you could silence the thoughts racing through your mind, Natasha leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn't passionate or life-changing. It was a simple pressing of lips. It ignited a fire deep within your belly. You could taste the remnants of wine on her lips.

She pulled away, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Is that not okay?"

"You're my brother's wife," You repeated, almost as if reminding yourself.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Natasha whispered, her lips mere inches from yours.

"This is dangerous," You warned, your resolve crumbling.

"Only if we let it be," She murmured, closing the distance between you once again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. Her lips were soft and warm, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you crackled with tension and desire. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the need for more consuming you. You let out a moan as Natasha's tongue danced with yours. Her hands were on your skin, exploring, caressing, bringing you closer to her.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your heart racing. You knew that if you kept going, there would be no turning back. But the look in Natasha's eyes was enough to convince you that you didn't want to turn back.

"Natasha, are you sure about this?" You whispered your voice husky with need.

"I want this," She answered, her eyes dark with lust. "Do you?"

"Yes," You breathed, losing yourself in the moment.

You surrendered to her, giving in to the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface. You gripped the fabric of her dress as you kissed her. Your tongues danced, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Natasha's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, teasing.

The heat between you was intoxicating. You could feel her body pressed against yours, the heat of her skin searing into yours. You wanted more. You needed more.

You pulled her dress off and tossed it aside. You couldn't get enough of her. Her skin was soft and warm, and the feeling of her body against yours was exhilarating.

Natasha's hands explored your body, tracing the contours of your curves. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You moaned as her fingers trailed over your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh. She swirled her thumb over your nipple, toying with it through the fabric.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this before?" She asked. Her question was met with a quiet whimper. She leaned forward and caught the hardening bud between her lips. You gasped as she suckled it, sending bolts of pleasure through you.

"Never," You breathed, the word coming out as a moan. Of course, you'd come close to this but you never allowed anyone to touch you so intimately. There had been quick fumbling and the ghost of fingers along your body but nothing like this. Natasha's mouth was talented, so wet and warm. It took everything you had not to come from the stimulation.

"You're sensitive," She hummed, moving her attention to the other side. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," You moaned as you rested a hand on the back of her head. "Don't stop."

"I won't," She promised.

You let yourself sink into the sensation, the feeling of her lips on your skin, her tongue swirling around your nipple, her hands caressing your body. You knew it was wrong to be here with her like this. You'd hate yourself in the morning. But right now, all you could focus on was the pleasure, the exquisite feeling of her touch.

Natasha kissed a path down your body, her tongue tracing a trail along your skin.

"Take this off," You muttered to her as you pushed at her shift. You needed some form of control in this situation. If you let her take charge, there would be no stopping this.

Natasha obliged and tossed the garment aside. She resumed her exploration of your body, her lips trailing lower and lower. She tugged at yours too, pushing it over your head.

She returned to her position at your chest. She nipped at the sensitive skin of your stomach. You shuddered and arched into her, craving more contact. Her hands skimmed up the length of your thighs, pushing them apart. She settled herself between your legs, her breath hot against your skin.

You watched her with bated breath as she moved her mouth to the apex of your thighs.

"Fuck," You swore as her tongue traced a path along your inner thigh.

"Does that feel good?" She asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Yes," You breathed. "Don't stop."

Natasha chuckled softly, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. She resumed her exploration, her lips moving closer and closer to your core. She'd never done this before. Neither had you. You'd had lovers but they'd never gotten this far. It had always been hurried, awkward encounters that had left you wanting. But Natasha... Natasha knew exactly what she was doing.

She kissed your mound. Your legs trembled, and you fought to keep them open. You wanted to give her access to everything. Her tongue traced a line along the seam of your pussy, teasing and tasting. You whimpered, unable to hold back. Natasha seemed to like the taste of you as she licked again.

"I thought you didn't know about this," You muttered as a curse formed on the tip of your tongue. "Where did you learn?"

"I've read a few books too," She answered, her voice thick with desire.

"And books taught you how to do this?"

"I like to learn new things," She smirked before flicking her tongue against your clit.

Your body tensed, and you gasped, the sensation so intense.

"Natasha, fuck."

She hummed in response, the vibrations driving you wild.

You reached out and buried your fingers in her hair, needing something to ground you.

"Who knew the princess knew such colorful words," She teased as she pressed her lips to the sensitive bud.

"Shut up and keep going," You growled, pulling her back to you.

Natasha chuckled but complied, her tongue exploring the length of your sex. She teased and tasted, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, the tension coiling in your core.

She lapped at your clit, drawing the sensitive bud into her mouth. You moaned, the sound reverberating off the walls. She looked up, her green eyes meeting yours, and you felt the coil in your belly tighten.

"I want to make you feel good," She whispered, her voice husky with desire. "I want to watch you fall apart."

"Keep doing what you're doing," You breathed.

Natasha smiled and dipped her tongue into your folds, fucking you with her tongue.

You cried out, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Natasha, I'm going to-"

She didn't let you finish. She slid a finger inside you, curling it, stroking that perfect spot. The slight pain of being penetrated for the first time caught you off guard. You tightened your legs around her head, and Natasha groaned against you. The sensation drove you over the edge, and you came hard, crying out as the pleasure washed over you.

Natasha rode out the waves of your orgasm, her tongue lapping at your juices.

You fell back against the pillows, panting, the aftershocks rippling through your body.

"That was... incredible," You gasped, the words barely audible.

Natasha chuckled and crawled up beside you, her fingers still slick with your arousal.

"I hope that was okay," Natasha said shyly.

"That was... better than okay," You sighed, the pleasure still lingering. You quite enjoyed the ache between your thighs.

"So, that was your first time?"

"It was," You confirmed. "And you? You've never done this before?"

"No," She shook her head. "You were the first woman I've been with."

"So, how did you know what to do?"

"I told you," She replied, a smirk on her face. "I like to read."

"Books don't teach you how to do that," You insisted, shaking your head.

"I'm naturally gifted then," She shrugged.

"You're insufferable," You rolled your eyes, despite the smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm not the one who's insufferable," She grinned, leaning in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on her lips. It was erotic and intoxicating. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I want to pleasure you too," You whispered against her lips. "Of the two of us, you're the one who hasn't had an orgasm before."

"Is that what it's called? What just happened to you at the end?" Natasha asked.

"That was an orgasm," You nodded.

"That's a strange name for it," She chuckled.

"Well, that's what it's called," You shrugged. "What would you call it?"

"I'm not sure," She said thoughtfully. "Something nicer than an orgasm."

"An 'orgasm' is a perfectly fine word," You laughed.

"It's not," She shook her head.

"What books have you been reading?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, the usual," She shrugged, feigning innocence. "Poetry. The Bible."

"You've been reading erotic poetry," You laughed.

"Perhaps," She winked.

"Then it's only fair that I should return the favor," You replied, leaning in for another kiss.

"I'd like that," She murmured.

You rolled her onto her back, taking the opportunity to explore her body.

Her skin was soft and warm, and she squirmed beneath your touch.

You trailed your fingers over her breasts, teasing her nipples. She gasped, arching into your touch.

"Do you like that?" You whispered.

"Yes," She breathed, her voice thick with desire.

You bent your head, capturing a nipple between your lips. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue around the hardened bud. Natasha moaned, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her.

"Fuck," She swore, her voice cracking.

"Good girl," You smirked, the praise escaping your lips before you could stop it. Your fingers trailed a path down her body. She was soft to the touch, her body trembling under yours.

"Y/N, please," She begged, the desire in her voice evident.

"I've got you," You soothed, your hand moving between her thighs. You felt around the soft curls of her pussy,

"Fuck," Natasha gasped as your fingers brushed against her folds. You dipped a finger inside, finding her soaked with desire.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," You whispered, your voice full of promise.

"Please," She breathed.

You slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure through you.

"That's a good girl," You cooed, her pussy clenching around your finger.

"It feels good," She whimpered, her hips bucking.

"I know, sweet girl," You soothed.

You added a second finger, curling them, stroking that perfect spot. Natasha cried out, the sound echoing off the walls. You could tell she was close, her body trembling beneath yours. You kissed her quickly, swallowing her moans, hoping that one of the guards wouldn't come to investigate.

"I want you to come for me," You whispered, the words coming out as a command.

Natasha cried out, her orgasm hitting her hard. You rode out the waves, continuing to stroke her, drawing out her pleasure.

"Good girl," You praised, pulling her into a deep kiss.

"That was amazing," She gasped, the words barely audible. "Are you sure this was your first time doing that?"

"It was my first time doing it to someone else," You reminded her. "Though I'm sure you wouldn't like to hear about me and Akira."

"No," Natasha shook her head.

"Well, now we're even," You smiled.

"Thank you," She murmured, snuggling closer to you.

"I didn't do it for thanks," You replied, stroking her hair.

"Can we do it again?" She asked.

"Natasha," You began. You didn't want to disappoint her. She was still your brother's wife.

"Please, just once more," She begged, her eyes pleading.

"Just once more," You relented, unable to deny her.

"Good," She smiled, capturing your lips in a kiss.

"And after that?" You asked, breaking the kiss.

"We'll see where the night takes us," She replied, her eyes full of mischief.

You surrendered to her, losing yourself in the pleasure and the sin.

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Keeping it quiet

Paring: Innocent!reader × dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, (legal) age gap, amab!nat, oral, fingering, p in v, pet names, implied aftercare, secret relationship, breeding kink, unprotected sex, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.2k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: sorry for the long wait but here I am

Masterlist

Today was supposed to be a normal BBQ like your family had had so often in this warm summer months but ever since your father invited his collegue over to join something changed. Ever since you met Natasha Romanoff about 3 months back you couldn't stop thinking about her. She might have been old enough to be your mother and a friend of your father but you couldn't denie the fact that you were attracted to her like flies to the light. She was a true charmer excatly knowing what to say and to do. You never felt uncomfortable around her even though she blatanly flited with you. Her touch somehow always lingering on your skin when the two of you were alone. It was only a matter of time until you ended in Natashas bed legs widely spread as she savoured your taste. So the time flew sneaking around your parents watch as you kept your illicent affair hidden falling head over heals for the older woman. Today was one of those days where Nat came over to your parents place and just couldn't keep her hands of you.

Like always Natashas steps were light on the cold tiles of the french villa your family owned. Sometimes you thought she was an actual spy. You didn't hear her standing in the kitchen in skimpy clothing preparing something for dinner as you mindlessly hummed along whatever Taylor Swift song was currently on the radio. "What are you doing bunny" She sneaked up behind you pressing her front into your back her crotch againt the swell of your ass. "Just doin' a salad you know" She humped checking out the area to see if your parents were around before doing anything further. Her hands came up to your hips pulling your behind harder against her crotch. "Natty please" you whined as she smirked pressing her nose against your neck smelling the expensive perfume she had gotten you. "We can't not here" your breathing was heavy uneven "What if my parents see?"

"They're in the garden trust me bunny" She whispered her strong hands trialling up your sides to your chest. Even though your body was betraying you leaning into her touch seemingly begging for more you couldn't give in just yet. You wanted to show her how you infact could be stronger than your most animalistic thoughts. "Natasha not now" she groaned into her hear making you feel the wettnes betwen your owm legs. "Fuck bunny I can't wait to feel your tight little pussy pulsing around me begging me to let you cum. And then after you had your sweet sweet release I'm gonna breed you're dripping with my cum" she whispered into your ear before pushing herself from the counter leaving into the garden. Of course she wouldn't actually get you pregnant you where on the pill and you weren't sure if she was even fertile. It was more of her kink she had explained to you.

The rest of the night you two kept your play up. Acting asif you couldn't care less what the other was doing in front of your parents. Still you couldn't help but admire her beautiful features as she had some boring converstaion with your father about politics or what ever. What really interested you would be the time spend between the sheets with her as she would show you all her passions and desires. After what seemed like hours you finally snuck your way into the guest room. She was spread wide on the comfortable mattress only wearing a wifebeater and her chequered boxers. "There's my bunny eh" she turned her head towards you as you made your way over to the bed swinging your hips . You sat down deside you before turning to kiss you roughly slipping her tongue into your mouth as you shifted to strangle her waist feeling her growing erection as you rolled your hips against her crotch.

"Fuck Bunny" she breathed out as she gripped onto your hips stilling you in place. "let me get you ready first" she whispered flipping you to lay under her as she kissed your neck down reamoving your cami top in the process. She took on nipple in her mouth slightly sucking on it before her big hand started playing with your other nipple rubbing over it. You let out quiet whippers as she switched sides. After what she deemed to be enough attention to your chest she kissed her way down to your panties nibbling on the skin of your hips. She made sure to leave hickeys in her way. You tried your best go keep it quiet but when Nat did her thing it was hard. Natasha kissed your clit through the soaked through panties pulling them down only to revel your sticky heat.

She made a bold lick from the end of your pussy right up your puffy clit swirling her trained tongue around the erected nub. Her scarlet lips attached to your clit sucking on it making you cry out as you tried to close your legs around her head but she kept them spread. She slowly inserted two of her long fingers into your clenching hole as you quietly cried out for mor and more. Natasha moved her fingers roughly and fast not giving you time to adjust. "Fuck your so tight" she groaned pumping her fingers even faster. “Natty ‘m close so close“ You felt your release close enough to grab but then Nat pulled her dripping fingers from your heat leaving you high and dry. “W-What?” You mumbled out opening your eyes again only to see Natasha smirking down at you “I want some fun too honey“ she smirked flipping you to your knees pushing your hips up as you arched your back showing off both your tight holes to her.

You heard her removing her boxers she already was rock hard for you her reddened tip leaking with pre cum as she expertly spits on her shaft spreading the slick over it. She moved closer pushing her tip to you clit enjoying the sight of you bucking your hips desperately trying to find your pleasure. “Ngh Tasha please” you begged making her listen slowly pushing in making you gasp at the feeling of being stretched out like that. She gave you time to quickly adjust before picking up pace fucking you hard and rough as she had a death grip on your hips. You couldn’t care less about the bruises as you pushed your face into the pillow muffling your sounds. With Natasha whimpers and the sound of skin slapping your moans filled the hot summer night air hoping your parents couldn’t hear you.

You kept clenching down on Nat she grabbed onto your shoulders. “Fuck ‘m gonna breed that little pussy ngh… I’m gonna make you so full of my cum“ you whined out before the coil in your stomach snapped and you came hard Natasha following soon releasing her white seed deep inside your whomp. She proceeded to help you through your orgasm even cleaning you up before cuddling you to sleep her arms tightly around your smaller body.

:)

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (4)- Fighting The Enemy

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 2.3k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence and murder, dark thoughts

—

Crimson stained your hands, the warm liquid slowly dripping down your forearms as you leaned over the body, fragments of skull blending with flesh and brain being held in your trembling hands.

Eyes pleaded you for their life as you stood over their body, words spilling desperately out of their lips as they stared up at you, begging for you to take mercy. Their pleas were cut short, blood splattering on the floor behind them, the life gradually draining out of their eyes.

A gut wrenching cry was torn out of their throat when your hand forced its way past skin and bones, fingers roughly gripping onto their intestines, squeezing with vigour for another primal sound to be ripped out of them before pulling hard, their body falling limp to the ground. A small squelch follows when you drop the organ next to their corpse, not even giving the scene a second glance.

Your hand hits the side of your head as you twitch it to the side, shaking the thoughts out of your mind, trying to focus on your mission.

Your mind was slowly fracturing into pieces, various memories flooding your thoughts as you walked through the eerie hallway, boots echoing in the abandoned space. You weren't sure what had happened, the only thing that you knew for certain was that you were to obey. You didn't have a choice. It was engraved in you. Listen to them. Kill for them. That was all you had to do.

No we don't.

We are better than them.

We aren't a toy for them to play with.

Your jaw clenched at the irritating voice sounding around in your head again, merging with the violent flashbacks, further adding to your unpleasant mood. You were a weapon. Weapons didn't need to think. They just kill. Yet, the incessant part of you was adamant we were stronger, more powerful than them, we could do anything if you just gave over control.

Yes, see, you're getting it now. Give me control.

"So what? You can murder everyone," you mutter out loud, the mask muffling your words as you argue with your alter ego, knowing that, despite the things you have done based on the flashbacks, the things they have done... They were darker, more sinister, they enjoyed it. You didn't. You never would. You did what you had to do to survive.

It's what they deserve.

You want to scream at the voice, begging it to shut up. Yes they deserve to die for what they had done to you but you weren't going to be the ones to kill them.

Every time you come back, you somehow try to be more virtuous.

It groans, a scoff leaving you. You were trying to make up for the things you had done, be a little more merciful, there was nothing wrong with that.

You can't. We can't be good anymore. There's no point in trying to redeem us. We're already a monster, there's no changing that.

At its words, you remain silent, doing your best to ignore them as you wander through the hallways, your eyes focussing on small indents on the wall.

A violent scream was torn out of you, your hands doing everything in their power to stop the guards dragging you back to your cell, your veins burning with agony as the serum entered your bloodstream. Your fingers dug into the concrete, leaving indents as you pried away at the stone, desperately trying to stop them from taking you back.

You shook your head once more, the painful memory soon fading away, leaving you confused. You suddenly seemed to recognise the building you were in, your fingers slotting against the marks, the handprints slightly smaller, your mind too broken to place the significance of the memory.

Pushing down the screams echoing in your mind and shaking off the further memories that invaded your thoughts, you worked your way around the building, searching for the room you were instructed to find. All you knew was that there was a flash drive in there that Hydra needed to keep out of the Avengers' hands, the team apparently gaining intel on this base.

You weren't expecting them to locate it yet nor for them to be in the base, but your general warned you to stay on guard, the order more difficult than expected due to the instability of your mind.

You were nearly at the room but a gnawing feeling made you pause in your tracks, head tilting curiously at the room you were stopped outside of, your hand moving without thought to open the door, revealing the dark and empty concrete cell. You swallowed nervously at the sight of dry blood staining the walls, the floor and even parts of the ceiling, another flashback painfully invading your minds, causing you to lose focus.

***

"I don't have a good feeling about this Steve," Natasha mutters while the two of them enter the base, Wanda entering through a different exit, the team confident in her magic ability and training to handle herself.

"Neither," he sighs out in agreement, their bodies almost silently walking through the abandoned building, Natasha taking the corridors to the left while Steve went right, splitting off to cover more ground.

Nerves etched away at Natasha, the spy confused at the sudden emotion she was feeling. She never got nervous, so why was she on edge? Her gun was firmly gripped in her hand, creeping through the hallways with it raised, ready to fire if needed.

Emerald green searched through various corridors, her eyes glossing over with crestfallen look at the marks all over the wall, indicating a clear struggle all the way down the hall until it reached the isolated steel door at the end. Natasha was already walking towards the room when a quiet, pained noise caught her attention, her finger ready on the trigger as she rounded the corner, pausing at the sight before her.

Your ominous figure stood facing an empty room, hands twitching by your side, unaware of the spy near you, or the Captain who rounded the corner on the other side of the hallway, pausing when Natasha signalled for him to do so.

"Don't make me kill them," you almost whimper out, lost in a spiral of memories, your mind replaying the broken memory. "They're just children."

"I won't repeat it again Soldat," his voice low and commanding at your ear, malice lacing his next words, "Don't leave the room until every single one of them is dead."

Steve raises his shield ready to throw at your words, confusion written across his and the redhead's face.

I told you. We're a monster.

Snapping at the voice inside your head, your fist collides with the wall, trying to express your anger, confusion and hurt, when the sound of metal gliding through the air reaches your ear, body turning to the side, hand catching the vibranium disk.

Steve's face pales a little at how unaffected you were by his throw, most people being knocked back a little, his expression swiftly switching to shock when it's thrown back forcefully at him. He has to take a couple steps back when he catches it to stay balanced, your body making it's way over to him, eyes slowly becoming lifeless as you flicker between having and losing control.

He uses his shield to protect him when your fist collides with the metal, a loud noise reverberating around the room, a gunshot being added to the mix when a bullet slices through your leg, jaw clenching at the pain. You grit your teeth, swinging your other arm to hit the side of the blonde man, a groan escaping him at your strength while he goes to parry your other punch, you injured leg swiping at his knee, knocking him back to the ground.

While the man climbs to his feet, a pair of thighs wrap around your head, trying to force your body to the ground, unable to beat your strength. Wrapping your arms around the back of her body, her elbow being brought down on whatever part of you she could reach, you push her body into the nearest wall, her back painfully banging against it.

The sound of boots approaching quickly causes you to pull away from the wall, slamming the body down against the floor, a small cry escaping her before you lower your body, merely evading the punch from the man and tackling his body to the ground, shield clattering next to him.

Your legs straddle his stomach, grip tight to prevent his movements while your hands goes to his throat, merciless with your grip as his face starts to turn red. Your thumbs dig in harshly against his airways, his hands prying at your own, fingers digging in painfully with the amount of strength he was using making your grip falter, hands reaching to the red and blue metal disk.

Fear glosses over in his eyes as you raise the shield into the air, attempting to bring it down on his throat when his hands clutch at the bottom of it, desperately trying to stop you. Your eyes are dark, no ounce of humanity left in them as you press down harder, the edge of the shield pressing lightly against his throat as he fights for his life,

To catch him off guard, you lift the shield, his fingers slipping off it and enabling you to abruptly bring it back down.

His hands only just block his neck in time, a muffle groan leaving you at the pain radiating throughout your body, electricity coursing through your body from the small device attached onto your neck. The device causes a sense of Deja vu to flicker across your mind, ignoring it as you stagger to your feet, turning to the redhead who raises her gun at you.

Blood oozes out of your leg from where she last shot you, Steve regaining his breath as he slowly pushes his body off the ground, your gaze locked on the woman in front of you, familiarity causing your head to tilt while you stare at her, waiting for her next move.

You can see her hesitation, her finger hovering over the trigger as the barrel is aimed at your face. You take a step forward, daring her to take the shot when she swiftly lowers it, another bullet lodging itself into your body, pain radiating from your side.

You fall to your knees at the pain, her gaze flickering to the man behind you, his hands grabbing the shield once again. You close your eyes, focusing on the sound of his movements to imagine his stance, visualising his body behind you and waiting for the gap to present itself. When he goes to swing the metal at you, you press your hand down into the ground, using it to spring your body off the concrete as you spin around, kicking your leg out to strike into his side.

A loud snap can be heard as the force of your kick splinters his ribs, his body falling to the concrete while he takes in sharp breaths, anguish evident on his face as he holds his side.

You're certain that if he was human the impact would have killed him, instead it merely immobilises him, your attention returning the woman you think you know.

When she keeps her gaze on you, the firearm still aimed at you, you can feel annoyance and anger enter your mind as she hovers her finger over the trigger, not wanting any more bullets to be lodged inside you. Your fingers deftly wrap around the handle of the blade in your pocket, swiftly pulling it and spinning it between your fingers as you wait for her to make the first move.

Confusion sneaks onto your face when she merely smirks at you, her gaze flickering behind you for a brief second. Without even thinking, you turn and launch the knife at the other figure, the metal blade being encased in red tendrils of magic before it clatters to the ground, the brunette's eyes glowing red.

There's a glint of recognition in her eyes when she sees you, her magic abruptly travelling towards you and wrapping around you, the tendrils seeping into the side of your head and into your mind.

You're powerless against her magic, an animalistic noise being torn out of you as more gruesome flashbacks swarm your mind, hands desperately clutching at your head to make it stop.

Natasha watches with a pained look, your cries of anguish stirring something inside her while Wanda lets out a small cry at the things she was seeing in your mind.

You fall to your knees roughly, fingers digging into the side of your head as you try to make it stop, you need to make it stop.

Ending the pain for the both of you, Wanda navigates her way through your fractured mind and eventually manages to get your body to fall unconscious, your body limp of the ground as the witch wipes the tears off of her cheeks, staring at the redhead opposite her who has curiosity written across her face.

"I don't know how long I can hold her," she says to the assassin, her magic still flowing around your head as she tries to keep you still.

"Can you hold her until we get back to the tower?" Natasha asks, making her way over to Steve who is still in agony on the ground. She slowly helps him to his feet, careful not to hurt him anymore while turning her gaze back to the witch.

"I think so," she says a little nervously, focusing on her magic.

"Good, let's get her on the jet, Fury's going to want to know what's happened." Everyone agrees with Natasha's plan, the magic encasing your entire body as you're lifted into the air, the redhead aiding the injured super soldier towards the jet.

What could possibly go wrong?

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

First Encounters

Daddy!Natasha x reader warnings: 18+ Dom!Nat, Daddy!Nat, switch!Reader, Nat has a cock, dirty talk, degradation, marking, breeding, mention of aftercare word count: 716 a/n: This is my first time posting a fic to tumblr or anywhere actually. I have proofread, but I am human.

“This is your room. So please once you’re all settled in let us know and just have fun.”

“This is your room. So please once you’re all settled in let us know and just have fun.” Tony tells you before exiting the room. You look around your room looking like someone’s sex dungeon. You lick your lips as you go through the different toys laid out with a smirk adorning your face before there is a knock at your door.

Walking over and opening it slightly finding Natasha Romanoff standing before you. “Oh hi Natasha. Did you need something? I was just about to get started unpacking.” You say with a smile.

“Mind if I come in Y/N?” You open the door just enough for her to slip in and once the door is closed you’re being pushed up against it. Her hips grinding into your ass and you can feel her package against you, assuming it’s a strap you smirk and reach back to grab it, but quickly realize it isn’t a strap, Natasha actually has a cock.

“N-Natasha...” She shushes you, wrapping a hand around your throat while she cranes your neck to the side leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses over your skin. “F-fuck...” She leaves love bites along your jaw and neck.

“I’m going to ruin you my little puppy.” A throb between your own legs at the nickname. “You’re going to call me Daddy and we’re going to have a good time. Do I make myself clear?” Her authoritative voice left no room for argument,

“Yes Daddy please fuck me!” You could feel her smirk against your neck as she pulled down the shorts you were wearing along with your black lacey panties. You can now feel Natasha’s cock between your legs, rubbing through your wet folds.

“So wet already puppy. Are you that needy for Daddy’s cock?” She growls against your ear.

“Yes Daddy.” You feel her line up her cock pushing inside of you, both of you moaning at the feeling.

“Fuck such a tight puppy...” She gives you almost no time to adjust to her length as she grabs your hips, digging her nails in as she mercilessly pounds into you a mix of pain and pleasure at first until you get used to it. She bites your shoulders and back making sure to leave her marks all over you. Showing the others she claimed your body first.

“Going to breed this slutty pussy so you can be full of my babies. You'll look so good full of my babies. Do you want my babies inside of you puppy?” Natasha asks and all you can do is nod dumbly as she sends you further into subspace each thrust, each word, each mark pulls you deeper.

You knew everyone could probably hear you at this point with how loud you got, but none of it mattered right now as Natasha kept pushing you towards the edge as she pounded you against the door.

“Ah...Daddy gonna cum! Can I cum Daddy please!?” You moan out and you can almost feel Natasha smirk at you.

“Beg puppy. Let me know how badly you need it.”

“Need it so badly Daddy. Please! Wanna cum with Daddy and be full of Daddy. Daddy’s cock makes me feel so good!” You somehow manage out through the haze she’s put you into.

“Good puppy. Go on. Cum all over Daddy’s cock. I can feel you tightening around me.” You moan out, rocking your hips back trying to get Natasha impossibly deeper into you as she moans out, painting your insides white as she bites into your shoulder harshly.

“F-fuck...Daddy...” Your body starts to collapse, legs giving out on you, but Natasha catches you.

“I’ve got you. You did so good for your first time Y/N. I can’t wait to keep breeding my puppy.” Natasha buried you in kisses as she took you to the bathroom to clean both of you up in the shower and provide you with some much needed aftercare and even offering to help you get unpacked since she took up some of your time.

From just this first interaction as their play toy you knew you were going to have a great time here. Even if Natasha is the only one like this you knew she’d make it worth taking this job with how much fun you had.