#this was so perfect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plasticl0ve · 4 months ago

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HELLO WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKKKKKKK

AND I LOVE HER | n. romanoff x fem!reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader | navigation

summary: natasha’s heart has always been yours, but after your relationship deepens with a one-night stand, she struggles to find the right words and the perfect moment to confess her true feelings.

content warnings: 18+ MDNI. natasha romanoff x fem!reader, fluff, soft!natasha, medic!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn ish (?), pining, natasha being absolutely in love, mentions of drinking/alcohol, injuries, starts off with smut; top!natasha, bottom!reader, oral (r! receiving)

word count: 12.7K+

Natasha could barely think.

The hallways of the compound are quiet, the distant hum of Tony’s party barely reaching this far. The dim light casts long shadows against the sleek walls, flickering slightly as if they’re unsure of its own presence. Footsteps stumble softly over the polished floor, the sound swallowed by the thick air of anticipation that clings to the both of you. Your breaths are uneven, soft laughs and giggles falling from your lips, heavy with the weight of unsaid things and the burn of too much alcohol. Fingers, eager and trembling, trace the curves of bodies, sliding beneath fabric and finding warmth. Her lips meet yours again, desperate and searching, leaving a trail of stolen kisses as the two of you move—half blind, half guided by something stronger than sight. You didn’t need words; the world outside the glow of this narrow hallway is distant, unimportant. All you cared about now is her, how she pulls you closer, leading you closer to her room just ahead.

Natasha could barely think at all. Everything in her mind blurred, thoughts slipping through her fingers like water as soon as they tried to form. The only thing she could focus on was you. The taste of your lips. Sweet and intoxicating. The way they fit perfectly against hers, they’d been made for her to kiss. It sent a shockwave through her body each time your mouths collided, obliterating any coherent thoughts. Her hands, strong and firm, moved on their own, gripping your waist, sliding up your back, over the silk of your dress, desperate to feel more of you, to pull you closer until there was no space left.

She couldn’t think, didn’t want to think.

All that mattered was this—your body pressed against hers, trapping you between her and the door of her room, the soft moans that escaped between kisses, the way her heart pounded in her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her lips. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and she never wanted it to stop.

The warmth of the alcohol buzzed through Natasha’s veins, making everything feel hazy and wonderfully unreal. Having you in front of her like this, in her arms, underneath her hands, felt unreal. Her head was light, the edges of the world around her blurred as she kissed you, deepening the pleasant fog in her mind. The room tilted slightly every time she pulled you closer, but she didn’t care—if anything, it made the moment feel even more like a dream she didn’t want to wake from. The sharp edges of her usual control were dulled by the alcohol, making her bolder, less cautious. She found herself giggling against your pretty mouth, a sound she barely recognized as her own, drunk on both the wine and the feel of your beautiful body.

With shaky hands, Natasha reached behind you, her lips trailing your neck in sweet, wet kisses as her fingers fumbled for the zipper of your dress. She found the zipper a second later and slowly, deliberately, began to tug it down, feeling the tension in the material as it loosened around your body. The sound of the zipper sliding down was almost lost in the charged silence, but Natasha heard it, like a release of everything she’d been holding back. When the zipper finally reached the end of its line, Natasha let out a deep, shuddering sigh against your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

“Fuck, detka…” Natasha closes her eyes, letting her hands draw away from your back to trail them down to your thighs, her palms flat against your skin as they push the fabric of your dress upwards.

You can feel the pads of her fingers finding their way up, playing with the soft lace of your panties. Natasha moved slowly, savoring the moment for as long as she could. Her mouth paints your skin in light hickeys, trailing downwards to the valley of your breasts while you bring your hands up to run them through her red hair, pulling on it slightly to kiss her deeply once again.

“N-Natasha, please…” You muttered against her lips.

You could feel it—the way Natasha’s lips curved into that maddeningly smug smirk against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. It was as if Natasha knew exactly what she was doing to you, and of course, she did. Your skin burned where Natasha touched you, her fingers trailing with deliberate slowness, as if savoring every reaction, every trembling gasp.

“Please, what, krasivaya?” She asked, her voice low and seductive.

You whimpered, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, trying to tug her jacket off of her. “I need you... Please… Hurry…”

“You are so impatient,” Natasha smiles and kisses you softly. “I’m getting there, darling. Don’t worry.”

Your fingers fumbled with the edge of Natasha’s suit jacket once again, and your movements hurried, almost desperate, as you tried to push it off her shoulders. A soft whine escaped your lips, frustration mingling with the need that pulsed through you, but Natasha just smiled against your mouth, pausing the frenzied kisses for a brief moment. She pressed a softer, lingering kiss to your lips, calming the storm with her gentleness, before reaching up to shrug the jacket off herself. It slipped down her arms and hit the floor in a whisper of fabric, and then she was back, her hands finding your face, her lips capturing hers again.

Natasha guided you backwards with a practiced ease, never breaking apart from your lips. Her hands found their way to your thighs once more, fingers gripping the soft skin through the fabric of your dress. With a fluid motion, she lifted you off the ground, pulling you close as your lips collided again, more urgent this time, more desperate. Your legs instinctively wrapped around Natasha’s waist, your bodies fitting together as though they’d done this a hundred times before. Natasha’s grip tightened, the strength in her arms steadying them as she carried you across her room, never once faltering. The bed was just a few steps away, and the world outside your heated breaths felt impossibly distant. When she reached the edge of the mattress, Natasha lowered you down gently, her hands still firm on your thighs.

God, she’s always wanted to see you like this. Natasha had often imagined what it would be like to see you in this exact moment, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. You were sprawled across the bed, her bed, your dress now a loosely draped, tangled mess that did little to cover your body. Your hair, once neatly styled, now fell wild and disheveled around your flushed face.

With a sense of urgency, Natasha’s fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress. The fabric slipped slowly away from your shoulders, revealing the expanse of your skin beneath, and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. As the dress fell away, pooling around your waist, Natasha’s eyes roamed over your curves, your breasts, with a kind of awe that was both intense and profound. The sight of you, bare and vulnerable before her, ignited something deep within Natasha—sending a wave straight to her core. Every inch of your skin seemed to glow under the dim light. You were so beautiful.

Natasha pulled on your dress until it was completely off of you, mindlessly throwing it behind her, her eyes never leaving your body. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, each one more stubborn than the last as she tried to hurry through them, her impatience palpable. Her gaze never left you, a vision she could scarcely believe was real. The way you looked at her—eyes heavy with desire, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath—only made Natasha’s hands more unsteady. Her shirt slipped open, one button finally giving way, then another, watching how your lips were slightly parted, breathless. There was a hunger in Natasha’s stare, an urgency she couldn’t suppress, as if unbuttoning her shirt fast enough might bring her closer to the moment she’d been silently craving for longer than she cared to admit. She could feel the warmth of your gaze on her, too, as each button gave way, the fabric parting to reveal the skin beneath.

“You’re so beautiful, Natasha,” you said breathlessly.

She smiled again, leaning down to kiss you between the valley of your breasts, “I’ve got nothing on you, detka.”

Natasha leaned down, hovering over you, her lips pressing softly against your neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. She lingered there for a moment, savoring the way your pulse quickened beneath her kisses as soft gasps escaped your mouth. Each touch was careful, brushing against the delicate skin just below your jaw, then down the hollow of your throat. Natasha’s kisses grew bolder with each passing second as they moved further south, grazing the curve of your collarbone to the swell of your breasts.

You laid back, closing your eyes as her lips explored your skin and the pads of her fingers softly rolled over your hardened nipples. A sigh falls from your mouth as Natasha’s breath glides closely over your chest, her lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking softly. Her tongue darts out, swirling around it, and your hands find themselves resting against Natasha’s shoulders, pulling her even closer.

“Spread your legs, for me, baby,” Natasha whispered against your stomach, her hands gently guiding your thighs apart as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You parted your legs without a second thought. But the reality of it—the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your breath hitched and your body responded with such raw, trusting openness—made Natasha’s heart pound in a way that left her almost dizzy. She could feel the heat radiating between them, the anticipation thickening the air as she pressed closer, savoring every trembling moment. Natasha felt that she could die happy right here, with you beneath her, so vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

God, you were so pretty.

Her fingers traced the delicate edge of your lace panties, her touch light and almost absentminded as she toyed with the fabric. She could feel the softness of the lace under her fingertips—the way it barely clung to your skin. Natasha didn’t rush—she liked the slow burn, to see you squirm, itching to get her to touch you, the way your breath hitched each time her fingers lingered a little too long or dipped a little too close to where she knew you wanted her the most. Natasha’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, catching the mixture of frustration and desire there, and she couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged on her lips as she continued to play with your panties.

“Natasha, please… Touch me, already…”

She licked her lips, parting them slightly as she listened to your pretty voice begging for her. Fuck, it was making her feel dizzy. “Gonna make you feel so good, angel. Trust me.”

Then, your hand found Natasha’s with an urgency that spoke of all the words she couldn’t say, fingers wrapping around hers and guiding underneath her panties. The fabric felt impossibly thin over her hand, and the wetness, the heat radiating from your skin sent a wave of electricity through Natasha that left her breathless. You were so wet, oh, fuck, and for a moment, Natasha forgot how to breathe, how to think—everything narrowed down to this simple, maddening desire.

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” You whispered.

The sigh that escaped Natasha’s lips was involuntary, a soft sound of surrender, as she let herself be led by your need, her own mind dissolving into the heady rush of desire that clouded everything else.

The teasing only lasted so long before something snapped inside Natasha, a sharp, undeniable urge taking over, using her other hand to grab your wrist and pin it down against the mattress. She wanted to be the one to do it—to touch you, to make you come. Her finger hooked around the delicate waistband of your lace panties. There was no hesitation as she tugged them down, the lace slipping effortlessly over your hips. Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest as she discarded the fabric, her breaths coming quicker now, driven by the sheer intensity of her need.

Natasha nodded her head absentmindedly, her mind drowning in thoughts of you and your pussy. She said quietly, to herself almost, “Wanna fuck you…”

Her hands found their way under your thighs once more, lifting them up slightly, spreading them even wider as she leaned down to face your glistening pussy. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t give you a single warning, before she dove right in, licking a stripe through your folds, collecting your sweet wetness on her tongue.

Your moan was deep, guttural, a sound that reverberated through the quiet room as Natasha’s tongue ravaged you. It was as if every nerve in your body lit up at once—a shockwave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. Instinctively, your legs tightened around Natasha’s head, your thighs trembling as they pressed against Natasha’s cheeks, holding her there. Each flick of Natasha’s tongue against your pussy sent you spiraling further, your moans growing louder and needier, echoing in the space around them. Your fingers tangled in Natasha’s hair as she fucked you, gripping tightly as your hips began to move on their own, seeking out every bit of friction you could find. Your whole world narrowed down to this one moment—Natasha’s mouth on you, the unbearable pleasure building inside you, and the primal need to keep her right where she was, between your legs.

Natasha felt like she’d stumbled into heaven itself. It was intoxicating—every taste, every subtle movement. Your body trembled under her touch, and Natasha reveled in it, savoring the way your flavor spread across her tongue, sweet and delicate. She moved slowly, deliberately, wanting to make this moment last forever, her hands gripping your thighs as if she were anchoring herself. Natasha closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the taste of you, thinking that she could stay here forever—right here, where nothing else existed but your taste, your scent, and the soft, breathless sounds that escaped her lips. You tasted better than Natasha had ever imagined—sweet, salty, intoxicating, like some forbidden nectar she had been craving for far too long. It felt like drinking water after wandering in a desert. Every lick, every pressure of her tongue, flicking against your clit, delving into your pussy, made Natasha feel like she was floating. She devoured you.

“Fuck, Natasha—“

Natasha could feel the shift in your body before you even registered it yourself—the way your muscles tensed, your breath catching in your throat as Natasha’s tongue became rougher, sucking on your clit harshly without mercy. It was a subtle change at first, just the slightest arch of your back. She could sense the way your body was coiling tight, your hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white, as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control. But the more Natasha pressed into her, the more she felt you surrender, hips lifting off the bed, with each swirl of Natasha’s tongue. The low, broken sounds spilling from your lips were growing desperate, and Natasha knew you were close; she could feel it in the way your thighs trembled, in the way her head tilted back, and in the way you tried to pull away slightly, as if you were scared of your own climax.

“N-Natasha… ‘Tasha, I-I’m cumming… I–“

Then, it snapped. Your body arched and trembled, reaching the peak of your pleasure, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm as you moaned her name aloud. Natasha’s hands were steady and guiding on your thighs as she licked you softly, helping you ride through the waves, making sure you could feel her—and only her.

“That’s it, baby…” She murmured against you.

When you began to calm down, Natasha pulled back slightly, giving you space but keeping her gaze fixed strictly on you. The sight of you, your body still quivering and your eyes fluttering open to reveal those pretty eyes of yours, struck Natasha as the most beautiful thing she has ever witnessed. You were trembling so much, and Natasha couldn’t help the smug smile that appeared on her face.

You were still trembling, your body humming with the aftershocks of release, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. But even in your dazed state, you reached out instinctively, your hands searching for Natasha, needing to feel her, to ground yourself in the warmth and presence of the woman who had just unraveled you completely. Natasha didn’t hesitate. The moment your fingers brushed against her, Natasha leaned in, wrapping her arms around your trembling body. Natasha found your lips again, kissing you deeply, the kiss not hurried or frantic like before, but slow and full of something deeper—something that tasted like promise, like... devotion. You could taste yourself on her lips, and Natasha couldn’t help but melt as you moaned softly into her mouth.

Natasha hovered above you, leaving just the barest sliver of space between the two of you. She pulled back, barely a centimeter, her breath mingling with yours, warm and uneven. For a moment, Natasha did nothing but stare, her gaze locked on your half-lidded eyes, the way they fluttered with each rapid breath. Your chest rose and fell beneath her, still struggling to catch your breath, to stop your body from trembling, your lips slightly parted and glistening. Natasha couldn’t help but smile softly, taking in the sight of you like this—disarmed, vulnerable, beautiful in a way that made Natasha’s heart ache with affection. Fuck, she wanted to stay here forever.

“Hi,” you whispered breathlessly, almost with a shy smile.

“Hi,” she murmured, her smile growing. Then Natasha brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers lingering there as she asked, “You okay?”

You nodded, still catching your breath, but your smile grew a little wider, a little surer. “More than okay,” you replied softly, your hand finding Natasha’s hand and squeezing it gently. “You?”

Natasha’s smile deepened, a rare, genuine expression that felt as natural as breathing in this moment. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m good.”

She found herself lost in the quiet afterglow, her gaze lingering on you with a kind of reverence she rarely allowed herself to feel. You looked so peaceful now, your face still flushed, and your hair fanned out against the pillow. There was something so effortlessly captivating about you—something that made Natasha’s heart stumble in her chest every time she looked at you like this. The way your lips curved into a soft, contented smile, your eyes half-closed and still dazed with pleasure, made Natasha’s breath hitch.

She could almost feel the words forming on her tongue before she even realized it.

I love you.

Natasha blinked. She almost said it. The words pressed against her tongue, desperate to be spoken, to be released. But just as quickly, she swallowed them back. It was a truth that had settled deep inside her, so much so that every time she looked at you, really looked at you, it almost felt impossible not to say it. You looked so peaceful, so breathtakingly beautiful in the dim light of her room, your lips still slightly parted as if caught in a dream. Natasha’s fingers brushed gently against your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw as she stared, mesmerized. In this moment, you were everything to her—so pretty, so real, and so entirely hers.

God, she wanted to say it.

But, for the first time in as long as she could remember, fear gripped her. Not the kind of fear she was used to—the physical, tangible kind that came with a mission or a fight—but something deeper, something far more terrifying. Would it be too fast? Would you feel the same way? Would you say it back? The thought twisted in her chest, making her hesitate. Natasha wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this unsure. She wasn’t scared of much in life, but the possibility of rejection—of putting her heart on the line and finding out it wasn’t enough—was enough to keep the words trapped inside.

She stayed silent, her gaze lingering on you with a tenderness she couldn’t fully express, her heart aching with the love she didn’t dare speak.

Instead, she kissed you again—slowly at first, as if savoring the taste of your lips might somehow drown out the urge to confess. The kiss deepened quickly, turning desperate and consuming, a way to silence the fears that clawed at her insides. Natasha’s hands roamed over your body once more, fingers tracing familiar paths, as if she were trying to memorize every inch of you, to carve this moment into her memory so it would never fade. The world outside this room ceased to exist; all that mattered was the way you responded to her touch, the soft gasps and whispered sighs that filled the air between them.

Natasha didn’t stop, couldn’t stop—each kiss, each touch, every moan, became a plea for more time, more of you, as if by making love to you again and again, she could delay the inevitable, could keep the fragile bubble of this night from bursting. The hours slipped by in a blur of passion and quiet intensity, the darkness outside deepening as Natasha pressed closer, held you tighter, and chased the fleeting moments that seemed to slip through her fingers like sand. It wasn’t enough—it would never be enough—but for now, it was all she had.

And so she loved you through the night, as if time itself could be bent to her will, as if each kiss, each whispered name, could stave off the dawn just a little longer.

In the morning, you were gone.

Natasha woke slowly, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her as she blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she reached out instinctively, her hand searching the space beside her, expecting to find you. But all she felt was the cool, empty sheets where you had been. She let out a quiet sigh, already knowing why. Your work started early—too early—and you were always gone before the sun fully rose, slipping out of bed with a quiet grace that Natasha admired but, at times like this, resented.

She stayed there, her hand resting on the vacant spot beside her, feeling the absence like a weight on her chest. The room was too quiet without your soft breathing; the lingering scent of your hair was still faintly on the pillow. Natasha turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind a haze of thoughts she couldn’t quite pin down. She knew you had to go—it was just how things were—but that didn’t stop the hollow ache that settled in her stomach, the longing for just a few more minutes of your presence.

After a while, Natasha sat up slowly, her movements sluggish and heavy as the quiet of the morning settled around her. The moment she lifted her head from the pillow, a dull, throbbing ache bloomed at her temples, spreading like a slow wave of discomfort. She groaned softly, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as if that might somehow lessen the pounding in her skull. The aftermath of last night’s drinks had finally caught up with her, and it wasn’t letting her forget it.

Natasha let out a breath, trying to shake off the haze of exhaustion that clung to her, but the effort only seemed to make her head spin. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind, but it was no use. The room felt too bright, the air too still, and the emptiness beside her in the bed only added to the strange sense of disorientation. She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as the movement sent another jolt of pain through her head. It wasn’t the worst hangover she’d ever had, but it was enough to make her wish she could just lie back down and sleep it off—except, of course, that spot next to her was still cold and empty, and there was no comfort in the silence.

She turned her head toward the nightstand, squinting against the light as her eyes landed on a small note propped up beside a familiar pill bottle. She blinked, then reached for the note, the crinkling sound of paper somehow comforting in the quiet room. The words were written in your neat, slightly slanted handwriting: “Thank you for last night. And don’t forget to take these! :)” The smiley face was unmistakably you—a touch of warmth that made Natasha’s chest tighten in the best way.

A slow smile crept across her lips as she read the note again, and again... and again. The headache still pulsed faintly behind her eyes, but it suddenly didn’t feel as bad. The simple gesture, the thoughtfulness of it—you thinking of her in the early morning hours, leaving behind something to make sure Natasha would be okay—it was enough to make everything else fade into the background. Natasha picked up the pill bottle, shaking it gently, then set it back down with a soft chuckle.

Without thinking, she lay back down, the note still clutched between her fingers. She held it up, her gaze tracing over your handwriting, memorizing the curves and loops of each letter. It was such a small thing, but it felt monumental, a tangible reminder that you had been here, in her room, in her bed, that you’d thought of Natasha even after leaving.

But as the days passed, you and Natasha slipped effortlessly back into your familiar routine, all filled with work. The compound buzzed with its usual activities, and you moved through your tasks with the same blend of efficiency and warmth that Natasha had come to rely on. Your conversations flowed as seamlessly as they always had, punctuated by laughter, talks of work and her health, and shared moments of quiet understanding.

Yet, for Natasha, everything had shifted subtly, profoundly.

Every glance, every casual touch between the two of you now felt charged with an intensity she couldn’t ignore. The way your eyes lit up when you spoke, the way you brushed against Natasha in passing—it all sent jolts through her, leaving her with a physical ache that was almost unbearable. Natasha found herself hanging on to every word you said, her heart racing whenever you came near, her fingers almost itching to reach out and close the space between the two of you.

When you brushed her hand against Natasha’s, it was no longer just a simple touch; it was a spark that set Natasha’s entire being on fire. The way your laughter filled the room, how you tilted your head just so when you were focused on your work—it was all consuming. Natasha wanted to pull you close, to kiss you with a hunger that had been simmering just beneath the surface, to feel the softness of your lips against hers and lose herself in you. Natasha wanted more than just the stolen moments and the shared smiles; she wanted everything with you. The thought of a future, of waking up to you beside her every morning.

“What’s going on with you?”

Natasha blinked, momentarily disoriented, as Steve’s voice pulled her out her thoughts. They were in the midst of their mission, moving through the dimly lit corridors of an abandoned warehouse. The mission was progressing smoothly, as always, but Natasha’s mind had been elsewhere, lost in a whirl of thoughts and emotions that had nothing to do with the task at hand.

Steve’s brow was furrowed with concern as he looked at her, his sharp eyes catching every nuance of her distraction. It was clear that her usual focus and sharpness were missing, and that was something Steve didn’t overlook, especially in the midst of a high-stakes operation.

Natasha hesitated, her mind racing to regroup, to push aside the tumult of feelings that had been gnawing at her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Just a lot on my mind,” she said, forcing a casual tone that didn’t quite match the tension in her voice. She adjusted her stance, trying to redirect her focus back to the mission. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Steve studied her for a moment, clearly not convinced. “Natasha,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “We’ve been through this before. If something’s bothering you, you need to talk about it. We’re a team.”

The sincerity in his voice made Natasha’s chest tighten. She appreciated Steve’s concern, but the truth was, she even didn’t know how to articulate the whirlwind of emotions she was experiencing.

Natasha sighed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. She knew Steve was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to share what was really troubling her. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, her voice firmer this time. “I’m fine... I’ll get it together.”

Steve gave her a scrutinizing look, clearly still concerned, but he nodded. “Alright. But if you need to talk, I’m here.”

“I know, Steve.”

The mission was successful. As usual.

On a calm Sunday morning, Natasha sat at the counter, methodically biting into her peanut butter sandwich as she half-listened to Steve’s low murmur about the latest Avengers briefing. The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning light that filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the polished surfaces. Steve was nursing a steaming cup of coffee, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newspaper spread out before him.

The soft sound of footsteps nearing drew Natasha’s attention as you walked in, your presence immediately changing the room’s dynamic.

You greeted them with a quick, cheerful “Morning, guys,” before heading straight for the coffee machine, your voice carrying the easy warmth that Natasha had come to crave.

“Hey, (y/n). Just brewed a pot,” Steve said.

You thanked him with a kind smile and moved quickly, grabbing a cup of coffee from the counter and casting a fleeting, soft, lingering smile in Natasha’s direction as you filled her cup. The smile was fleeting but full of unspoken warmth, a subtle connection that spoke volumes in its brevity.

Natasha’s reaction was immediate. She paused mid-bite, the sandwich almost forgotten as she watched you with an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed. Her fingers faltered, the sandwich slipping back onto her plate with a soft thud. She nodded at you, a nervous, shy smile tugging at her lips as if she were trying to hold on to that fleeting moment.

Steve, who had been watching this exchange with an increasingly amused expression, couldn’t help but chuckle softly. The realization hit him with a sudden clarity. Natasha’s distraction, the lingering thoughts that had clouded her focus during the mission—it all made sense now. The way she looked at you, the way her entire demeanor changed in your presence—it was a classic case of being head over heels.

“Well, well,” Steve said, his voice low and teasing as he took another sip of his coffee. “I think I just figured out what’s been on your mind.”

He shot Natasha a knowing grin, his eyes sparkling with understanding. Natasha looked up, caught off guard but with a soft flush creeping up her neck.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, though her tone was already betraying her discomfort.

Steve’s smile widened. “Nothing, just an observation.” He took another sip, enjoying the moment of revelation. “Seems like someone’s made quite the impression.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, trying to mask her embarrassment with a playful scowl. “I suppose I can’t keep anything from you,” she said, shaking her head but unable to suppress the fond smile that tugged at her lips.

“Looks like it,” he said.

Natasha sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as she rested her head on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. “What do I do?” she muttered, her voice muffled by the countertop.

Sam strolled into the kitchen just as she had asked this, his expression a mix of curiosity and mischief. He took in the scene with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Confess immediately,” he said, his tone light but resolute. “Don’t overthink it. Just go for it.”

Natasha looked at him in disbelief, an eyebrow raised as if she were silently asking how he could possibly know about all of this. Steve, who was leaning casually against the counter, gave Sam a sidelong glance.

“Hey, maybe ease into it a bit,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “What about asking her on a date? A nice, romantic dinner—something where you can talk, you know.

Sam rolled his eyes dramatically, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, no,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “A dinner date sounds nice and all, but if you’ve got feelings, you might as well just lay it all out there.”

Natasha lifted her head slightly, her gaze shifting between Steve and Sam; her expression caught between exasperation and hope. “So, you both think I should just... tell her?”

Steve nodded, his expression encouraging. “Yeah, but maybe take the chance to make it special. It’s not just about confessing—it’s about showing her how much you care.”

Sam shook his head with a smirk. “Or you could just cut to the chase. No need for all the pomp.”

Natasha sat in the quiet of the kitchen, the hum of the morning routine a distant backdrop as she contemplated the contrasting pieces of advice she had just received. She already knew she had to tell you. The doing is what’s got her in a slump. Steve’s suggestion of a romantic dinner held a particular allure, painting vivid pictures in her mind of you dressing up all pretty just for her, a soft glow of anticipation in her eyes. She imagined the two of you sitting across from each other at a candlelit table, the air filled with the intimate murmur of conversation and the soft clink of glasses. Yet, Sam’s more direct approach was equally compelling. The simplicity of confessing her feelings outright, of stripping away pretense and diving straight into the heart of the matter, had its own raw appeal. The idea of bypassing all the elaborate gestures, cutting straight through to the essence of her emotions, felt refreshingly honest, more her style.

She tried Steve’s idea first. She had it all planned out, chose a restaurant she thought you’d like, take you out for a walk under the moonlight, and then she’d tell you everything.

But her attempts to ask you out on a date seemed to be thwarted by an endless stream of interruptions. Each time she mustered the courage to approach you, the timing was never right. One time, as Natasha approached the med bay with a hopeful resolve, she was met with the sight of your hands deftly tending to a newly injured agent. The room was filled with the hum of medical equipment and the urgent tones of your focused attention, making it impossible to find a moment of privacy.

Another time, Natasha had managed to catch you alone, only for a sudden emergency to arise.

“I’m so sorry, Nat,” you had said.

Natasha shook her head and urged you to go with a pained smile, telling you that she’ll just find you again later. The sound of the alert echoed through the compound, pulling you away with swift urgency as you dashed off to respond to the call. Natasha watched with a sigh, frustration and longing mingling in her chest as you disappeared down the hallway.

Even when she did manage to find you alone, the med bay door would swing open with startling regularity, admitting a new batch of agents or staff members needing your expertise. Each interruption was a jarring reminder of the busy, unpredictable world they inhabited, leaving Natasha grasping at fleeting opportunities that never quite materialized.

With every failed attempt, Natasha’s patience was tested. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, the universe was determined to keep her moments with you brief and fragmented. But, even then, Natasha’s resolve only deepened, determined to find the right time with you.

The next day, Natasha found herself lingering outside the med bay, her shoulder resting against the doorframe as she watched you from afar. You were sitting at your desk, completely absorbed in a thick, worn book. Your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, a stray strand of hair falling across your forehead as you absentmindedly brushed it away. The soft glow of the med bay’s overhead light bathed you in a warm, gentle hue, casting delicate shadows on your face. Natasha stood there, quietly captivated by the sight, her heart swelling with an almost unbearable tenderness.

There was something so achingly beautiful about the way your eyes flicked across the page, your lips occasionally curving into the faintest hint of a smile at whatever she was reading. The world outside the med bay seemed to fade away, and for a moment, Natasha felt like she could stand there forever, simply watching you.

“You can come in, Natasha,” she heard you say, your eyes never leaving the pages of your book.

Natasha blinked, startled by your words. She hadn’t realized she’d been standing there long enough to be noticed. Clearing her throat, she pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the med bay, the familiar scent of antiseptic and coffee mingling in the air. You still hadn’t looked up from your book, your eyes tracing the lines of text with an almost lazy ease, but there was a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“You always seem to know when I’m around,” Natasha said, trying to keep her voice steady as she moved closer to your desk. She felt a strange mix of relief and nervousness—the comfort of being near you and the anxiety of what she wanted to say, what she’d been trying to say for days now.

You finally looked up, your eyes meeting Natasha’s with that familiar warmth that always made her heart skip a beat. “You’re not exactly subtle,” you teased lightly, setting the book down. “And I like it when you drop by.”

Natasha smiled, but it felt more like a grimace, her nerves getting the better of her. She shifted on her feet, hands fidgeting at her sides. “I just... wanted to see how you were doing. You’ve been busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You tilted your head, studying Natasha in that way that made her feel like you could see right through her. “I’m fine, and you’re not interrupting,” you said softly, your smile fading into something more serious.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. This was the opening she needed—the perfect moment to say what she’d been practicing in her head over and over again. But the words seemed stuck, tangled up in her chest. She could only nod, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to summon the courage to speak.

“Natasha…” Your voice was gentle, coaxing, and when Natasha finally looked up, she found you watching her with that same patient expression, as if she already knew what Natasha was struggling to say.

“I—” Natasha started, then stopped. She bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “I… just wanted to see you,” Natasha finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t exactly what she had planned to say, but it was the truth, raw and unfiltered.

Your expression softened even more, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You closed the book; your full attention now on Natasha.

“Well, you’ve found me,” you said, your tone playful but laced with something deeper, something that made Natasha’s pulse quicken. “What’s on your mind?”

“Uh, I’ve been... meaning to ask...” Natasha began, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability that made you pause, your full attention on her.

Your gaze softened as you waited patiently, sensing that whatever Natasha was about to say was important. The air between the two of you felt charged, thick with anticipation, as if this moment could be the beginning of something they both had been skirting around for too long.

But just as Natasha opened her mouth to continue, the sharp ring of her phone cut through the tension like a knife. The sound startled you both, and Natasha’s expression immediately shifted from hesitant to frustrated as she pulled the phone from her pocket. A quick glance at the screen told her all she needed to know: Fury.

Fuck. She sighed, feeling the weight of the moment slip away from her. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to you. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as if delaying the inevitable.

You gave her a small, understanding smile. “You should take it. It’s probably important,” you said softly, though Natasha could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes.

Natasha sighed and nodded, the frustration still gnawing at her as she swiped to answer the call.

“Yeah?” She said into the phone, her tone clipped, already mourning the lost opportunity.

As Fury’s voice filled her ear, Natasha couldn’t help but glance back at you, who had returned to your book but seemed distracted, your eyes not really seeing the words on the page. She wanted to be here with you and wanted to finish what she’d started to say. But duty called, and as much as she resented the timing, Natasha knew there was no escaping it. Still, as she listened to Fury’s instructions, her mind lingered on the words she hadn’t yet spoken.

Natasha left the med bay with a heavy heart, her footsteps echoing down the sterile, polished floors of the compound as she moved with practiced efficiency. The cool air felt harsh against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that had lingered in your presence just moments before. She didn’t want to leave, not when she had been so close to finally asking you out, but Fury’s voice in her ear had been all business, pulling her back into the world of missions and danger. The life she had known so well before you had started to change everything. Now, as she moved toward the hangar, readying herself for a quick mission, Natasha couldn’t shake the image of you sitting at your desk, so patient, so understanding, yet so distant now as the demands of her duty called her away from you once again. The familiar rush of adrenaline from the impending mission did little to dull the ache of leaving you behind, and as Natasha climbed into the Quinjet, she realized that no matter how many missions she completed, this—the moments with you—was the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose.

Natasha arrived back at the compound two nights later.

It was the kind of hour where everything felt suspended in a heavy, muffled silence. The Quinjet landed with a low hum, its lights cutting through the darkness, but Natasha was too tired to appreciate the quietness of her arrival. Her body ached with every movement, bruises blooming across her skin in angry shades of purple and blue. Her nose was still bleeding, a thin trickle of crimson slipping down her lip that she wiped away with the back of her hand. And then there was the stabbing pain in her side—a broken rib, she was sure of it. Exhausted, she stumbled down the ramp, each step sending a sharp jolt of pain through her chest. When she finally reached the dimly lit corridor, she paused, leaning against the cool metal wall for support.

She tapped into her comm, her voice rough and weary as she asked, “FRIDAY, is anyone in the med bay right now?”

The calm voice filled the space around her, gentle but clear. “Doctor (L/n) is in, Agent Romanoff. Would like me to alert her?”

A wave of relief washed over her, mingled with a touch of dread. You. Of course, you’d still be there.

“N-No, I’ll just… I’m heading there right now.”

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, pushing past the pain as she straightened up. She had barely been able to ask you out before she left, and now she was coming back bruised and broken, needing you in a different way. With a heavy sigh, Natasha started down the hallway. She trudged through the corridors of the compound, her footsteps uneven. The sterile white walls of the hallway seemed to blur as she moved, the intensity of her injuries casting a dull haze over her vision. Her breath came in shallow, labored gasps, each inhale sharp and punctuated by the searing pain in her ribcage. The normally comforting hum of the compound’s ventilation system felt intrusive.

As she approached the med bay, the dim light spilling from under the door painted a faint golden streak across the floor, guiding her weary steps. Natasha’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the button on the wall, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of her flushed skin. The door opens automatically, and the slide is loud in the quiet space. The med bay was bathed in a soft, muted glow, its organized chaos of medical supplies and equipment casting long, flickering shadows. Her eyes scanned the room, searching through until they settled on the figure she had hoped to find. You stood at a workbench, your focus intent on preparing some medical supplies. The sight of you, so absorbed in your work, made Natasha’s heart ache. The exhaustion and pain seemed to fade a little in your presence even as Natasha forced herself to step inside.

You continued your meticulous arrangement of medical supplies, your back turned to the door as you muttered, “If you’re here for a minor issue, just fill out the form and I’ll get to you when I can.”

Your voice carried the practiced tone of someone who had dealt with countless interruptions, your focus unwavering.

Natasha let out a pained scoff, the sound escaping more sharply than she intended. The noise drew your attention, and you froze mid-motion, your hand hovering over a box of bandages. You turned slowly, your eyes widening as you took in Natasha’s battered appearance. The sight of Natasha, bruised and bloodied, caused your heart to skip a beat, her professional mask slipping away to reveal a raw edge of concern.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, as you took an instant step forward, your gaze fixed on the blood trickling from Natasha’s nose and the pained grimace on her face. “What happened?”

The words came out in a rush, your earlier dismissal forgotten as you rushed to Natasha’s side, your hands already reaching out to help, your eyes filled with a mixture of shock and worry.

Your hands moved with practiced urgency as you guided Natasha to one of the beds, the action firm but gentle. You eased Natasha down onto the cushioned surface, your eyes darting across the extent of Natasha’s injuries with a rapid, assessing glance. Your breath hitched slightly as you took in the sight of Natasha’s battered body—the bruises spreading across her skin, the telltale signs of pain in her face, and the blood that marred her otherwise stoic appearance.

With a quick, deft motion, you reached for a nearby first aid kit, your movements efficient despite the visible tremor in your hands. You worked with a calm resolve, your mind focusing solely on the task at hand.

“Okay, let me take a look,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with concern.

Your fingers were careful as they moved to inspect Natasha’s broken rib, pressing gently to assess the injury while avoiding exacerbating the pain. Your gaze remained focused on Natasha, your eyes reflecting a deep well of worry and care.

You reached up slowly, cradling her face with your gentle hands, a move that made Natasha close her eyes in relief, feeling your palm rest softly against her face. As you cleaned the blood from her face and applied a fresh bandage, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Natasha’s eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort.

Later, as the night wore on, you kept working and carefully prepared an elastic bandage, your fingers moving with practiced precision. You already administered the painkillers, watching as Natasha swallowed them down with a grimace, and handed her anti-inflammatory pills with a soft reminder to take them regularly. Now, as Natasha sat upright on the edge of the medical bed, her shirt discarded, you gently guided her to lift her arms.

The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of the bandage as you began wrapping it around Natasha's torso. You always loved Natasha’s body, beautiful and athletically toned, but seeing her buried up like this was a sight you weren’t too fond of.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, the pressure firm but not too tight, offering support without constricting Natasha's breathing. Each pass of the bandage was done with utmost care, your fingertips brushing lightly against Natasha’s skin. Your eyes flickered between your work and Natasha’s face, making sure you weren’t causing any unnecessary discomfort. The bandage gradually wound around Natasha’s ribcage, securing the fractured bone in place, and you took your time, ensuring it was both comfortable and effective. As you finished, your hands lingered for a moment, her touch lingering in a quiet, intimate gesture of care before she finally stepped back, her eyes meeting Natasha’s in a silent exchange of concern and unspoken words.

“You should lay down,” you said sternly, and she obeyed with your help.

You stepped back from Natasha, your eyes scanning over the finished bandage job with concern, then made your way to the cabinets behind you.

As you turned and walked away, Natasha couldn’t help but let her gaze linger, her eyes tracing the subtle sway of your hips as you walked. Despite the dull ache in her ribs and the sting of her cuts, Natasha found herself distracted by the sight of you, the way your hair fell prettily around your face, and the confident yet graceful way you carried herself. It was ridiculous, really—how someone could look so effortlessly beautiful at this time of night. But that was you, distracting and disarming, making it nearly impossible for Natasha to focus on anything else. You were always beautiful. She would never stop thinking it. The pain in her body dulled just by watching you, and Natasha couldn’t suppress a wry smile at the thought.

A part of her, the part she tried to keep buried beneath layers of stoicism and professionalism, kind of liked being in this position. Being injured wasn’t ideal, of course, but if it meant that you were the one taking care of her—if it meant those gentle hands tending to her wounds, those soft eyes watching her with concern—well, it wasn’t all that bad. Natasha leaned back on the medical bed, trying not to wince as she adjusted herself, her mind already anticipating the feeling of your cool hands against her skin again.

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, your mind racing, already mentally cataloging what she needed—an ice pack for Natasha’s ribs and creams and ointments to treat the cuts on her and the bruises on her body. You moved quickly, your hands working automatically as you gathered the items—a tube of antibiotic ointment, a small jar of healing cream, and the ice pack she swiftly prepared, cracking it to activate the cold. You worked quickly and efficiently, but the image of Natasha’s bruised and bloodied face lingered in your thoughts, pushing you to hurry back. With everything in hand, you returned to the bed.

Swiftly, you pulled a chair over, your movements deliberate as you positioned yourself close to Natasha, almost too close, yet Natasha found herself craving the proximity. Your expression was a mix of concern and something else—something sharper, like a restrained anger simmering just beneath the surface. You dipped your fingers into the ointment, your touch cool and soothing as you began to apply it gently to the cuts on Natasha’s face. Your gaze never left Natasha’s, your eyes searching for answers even before you spoke.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Your voice was low and stern, the tone almost scolding.

It carried an edge that made Natasha’s chest tighten, but not with fear—with something warmer, something that made her want to smile despite the situation. And she did, her lips curving upward, unable to hide her amusement at how your concern manifested in this sharp, almost angry way. She knew it wasn’t anger, not really. It was worry and frustration that you couldn’t have prevented this, that Natasha had come back to you bruised and broken.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Natasha replied softly, her voice tinged with that smile she couldn’t quite suppress.

But she didn’t give you the full story just yet, savoring this moment where your hands moved so carefully over her skin, applying the ointment with such focused tenderness. Natasha liked this—liked seeing you flustered, your emotions so close to the surface. It made her feel important, seen.

Your fingers paused for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied Natasha’s face. You didn’t seem convinced by the lightness in Natasha’s tone, but you didn’t push—at least, not yet. Instead, you took a deep breath and resumed your work, the soft pad of your thumb smoothing ointment over a particularly nasty cut on Natasha’s cheek. Natasha winced slightly. She could sense the underlying tension in you—the way your jaw clenched ever so slightly, the way you focused a little too intently on the task at hand.

“You know that’s not what I asked,” you said quietly, your voice still holding that stern edge, though there was a softness there too, a plea for honesty.

You didn’t look up as you spoke, your attention fixed on her injuries, but Natasha could feel the weight of your words. It wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper, a fear that gnawed at you every time Natasha walked out of the compound on a mission. And now, seeing Natasha like this, bruised and battered, only made that fear surface all the more.

The redhead sighed, her smile fading as she let her gaze drift away from your face, staring at some indeterminate spot on the wall.

“It was a solo recon mission,” she finally said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Things went south, and I had to engage. Took a few hits, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Your hands stilled again, this time longer, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating from you, though you still kept your touch gentle. You finally looked up, your eyes locking with her green ones.

“You always say that,” you muttered, your voice stern and laced with exasperation. “You always downplay it, like it’s nothing. But look at you.”

Natasha met your gaze, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. She wanted to reassure you, to say something that would ease that worry etched into your face, but the words caught in her throat. So instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your wrist.

“I’m okay, milaya,” Natasha said softly, and this time, the smile that curled her lips was tender and genuine. “I promise.”

You didn’t reply right away, but you didn’t pull away either. Your fingers lingered on Natasha’s skin, and for a moment, you simply stayed like that, the air between you thick with tension. Finally, you exhaled a soft, resigned sigh as you resumed your work, the sternness in your expression giving way to something more vulnerable, more caring.

“Just... try to be careful. It’s not like you to be making mistakes,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, and Natasha felt her heart clench at the raw emotion behind the words. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded eagerly, her words catching in her throat.

You shook your head, a soft, almost exasperated sigh escaping your lips as you reached out, gently cupping Natasha’s chin to turn her face towards you. She allowed it, letting you guide her, the warmth of your hand against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. You leaned in closer, your brow furrowing as you examined the other side of Natasha’s face, your eyes darkening when you saw the bigger bruise that had bloomed there.

“Natasha...” you whispered, your voice laced with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

Your touch was featherlight as you carefully dabbed ointment over the bruise, your movements slow and deliberate, as if you were afraid of causing more pain.

But Natasha barely felt the sting. No, her mind was somewhere else entirely.

You were so close now, closer than you had been all night, and all Natasha could think about was how your breath ghosted over her skin, how your lips hovered just inches away. The scent of your shampoo filled her senses, clean and familiar, and Natasha’s gaze drifted to those lips—soft, plump, the same lips she remembered so vividly from that night, the lips that had been moaning her name all night. Her heart thudded in her chest, drowning out everything else. The pain, the bruises, the mission—they all faded into the background. All that remained was the memory of those lips, how they’d felt against hers, the way they’d made her forget everything but you.

Natasha swallowed hard, fighting to stay present, but it was useless. Her green eyes lingered on your mouth, tracing the curve of your lips and the way they moved as you murmured soft reassurances. Every part of Natasha ached to close the distance, to taste those lips again, to lose herself in that same rush that had consumed her that night. It was maddening how badly she wanted it—how badly she wanted you.

And for a moment, just a fleeting second, Natasha wondered if you felt it too—if you could feel the tension crackling in the air between you, the way Natasha’s pulse quickened under your touch. But she couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t think of anything but how close you were and how desperately she wanted to close that gap.

Your hand lingered for a moment longer, your fingers brushing over Natasha’s skin gently. And you were just about to pull away, to turn your attention back to the supplies on the tray beside you, when she felt it—a sudden rush deep in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. The words she’d been holding back for so long, the ones that had burned at the tip of her tongue for what felt like forever, finally pushed their way out, unbidden and unstoppable.

“I love you.”

It was barely a whisper, but in the quiet of the med bay, it sounded deafening. Natasha hadn’t meant to say it, not like this, not when she was bruised and battered, vulnerable in a way she hated to be. But the moment had slipped through her fingers, and now the words were out there, hanging in the air between you.

You froze, your fingers still resting against Natasha’s face, your eyes widening slightly as the words registered. For a split second, there was nothing but silence, a silence so thick and heavy that Natasha almost couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t planned this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that she might lose control, that she might let her guard down so completely. But it’s so hard not to when she was with you.

But then your eyes softened, your expression shifting from shock to something Natasha couldn’t quite read—something gentle, something that made Natasha’s heart pound even harder. Your hand moved again, this time not to turn away but to cradle Natasha’s face more firmly, your thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

“Natasha…” You whispered, your voice barely audible, and there was a tenderness in your tone that made Natasha’s breath hitch. Your eyes searched hers, as if trying to find the truth behind the words, to make sure you hadn’t imagined them.

But Natasha couldn’t take them back now. She didn’t want to. The weight of them had already lifted, and even though her heart was racing, even though her chest ached with the fear of what might come next, what you might say, she didn’t regret it. All she could do was hold your gaze, waiting, hoping that somehow this wouldn’t be the moment everything shattered.

The redhead leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she let the warmth of your palm soothe the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. The confession had slipped out too quickly, too easily, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t stop herself. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the feelings she’d kept buried for so long were rushing out.

“I’ve always loved you,” Natasha murmured again, her voice steadier this time, though still soft, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to her. She opened her eyes again, finding your gentle gaze still locked on hers, wide and searching. Natasha’s heart pounded as she watched the emotions flicker across your face—surprise, confusion, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

You didn’t pull away. If anything, your grip on Natasha’s face tightened, your thumb gently brushing against the curve of her cheek. The silence that followed wasn’t as suffocating as before, but it still held weight, heavy with what Natasha had just said. She could see you processing it, trying to make sense of the sudden shift of the words that had come so unexpectedly. But Natasha didn’t waver. She let herself sink into the moment, letting herself be held by your gaze and by the feel of your hand on her skin. She’d always known that her feelings for you ran deep—deeper than she’d ever allowed herself to admit.

“(Y/n)…” Natasha murmured, her voice soft but more certain. She tilted her head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, her lips lingering there for a moment as you let her words sink in. She wasn’t asking for anything, not really. She just needed you to know. To understand.

Your eyes flickered with uncertainty, a shadow of doubt crossing your expression. It wasn’t like Natasha to confess anything so personal, so vulnerable, especially when it came to her feelings. It left you reeling. You searched Natasha’s face, looking for any hint of insincerity, any sign that this might be some sort of joke. But all you found was the steady, unwavering gaze of someone who had just bared their soul.

“You’re not joking?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with disbelief. There was a softness in your tone, a hint of hope that you almost didn’t want to acknowledge.

Natasha’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. She shook her head, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Why would I be joking?” she replied, her voice firm, carrying a quiet confidence that left no room for doubt.

There was no teasing in her expression, no hint of the usual playfulness that often accompanied her words.

This was different. This was real.

“You’ve just... never said anything... Before, I mean,” you tell her, drawing your hand back slightly only for Natasha to hold your wrist still. You took a deep breath. “You’ve always said that you don’t like getting too attached to anyone.”

Natasha’s gaze softened as your words hung in the air. It was true—she had always been the one to keep her distance, to draw a line between herself and everyone else. Attachment was dangerous. It made you vulnerable; it made you weak. And in her line of work, weakness could get you killed. She’d lived by that rule for so long that it had become second nature, a part of who she was.

But looking at you now, with the worry and confusion etched across your beautiful face, Natasha felt all of that unraveling. The walls she’d built so carefully over the years crumbled piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the raw, undeniable truth of what she felt.

“I know,” Natasha said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that matched the heaviness in her chest. She hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain something she’d never really let herself admit. “I said that because I thought it would make me lose focus. But with you…”

She trailed off, her eyes searching yours, hoping that somehow you could understand what she was struggling to say. “With you, it’s different. It always has been. I didn’t want to admit it, maybe because I was scared… scared of what it would mean. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this... like I don’t want this.”

“I’ve actually been trying to ask you out on a date these past couple weeks.” Natasha took a breath, her hand moving to cover yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Had it all planned out... But I never found the right time to ask you.”

You smiled softly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied, shaking her head.

Your smile grew, the tension in your shoulders easing as you absorbed Natasha’s confession.

Her hand remained on yours, her thumb still brushing lightly against your skin. “But if, for whatever reason, you don’t want to or... don’t feel the same way... that’d be okay. It’ll take me a while to get over, but I don’t want to force you.”

Your heart ached at the thought of Natasha being hurt and her struggling through rejection. The sincerity in Natasha’s voice, the way she laid her feelings bare with such honesty, made your decision clear. You reached out and shook your head, your thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Natasha,” you said softly, your eyes meeting hers.

The words seemed to hang in the air, a delicate promise of something new, something hopeful. Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she processed your words.

“And... I’d really love to go on that date with you.”

Natasha’s heart leaped at your response, relief and joy flooding through her. The uncertainty that had clouded her mind for weeks, the fear of rejection, seemed to dissipate in an instant. Your smile, soft and warm, was like a beacon of hope that cut through the fog of Natasha’s doubts. The way your eyes sparkled with affection made Natasha’s chest tighten with a happiness she hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel before.

“Yeah?” Natasha’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if she couldn’t quite believe the words that fell from your mouth. She imagined every negative scenario and had been bracing herself for disappointment, for the possibility that her feelings might not be reciprocated, and to hear your affirmation was everything to her.

Your smile grew even wider, your eyes meeting her green ones with a tenderness that made Natasha’s breath catch.

“Yeah,” you said softly, her voice steady and sincere.

Natasha’s thumb gently caressed your hand, her gaze lingering on your face. “I’m really glad to hear that,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “Just... let me know when you’re free, and we’ll make it happen.”

You give her a look. “How about when you’re fully healed, hm?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the warmth in her eyes as she met your playful gaze.

“Deal,” she said with a grin, her voice carrying a note of playful defiance. She shifted slightly on the bed, trying to ease her discomfort, but her smile remained. “I guess, to make sure I heal properly, I’d have to let you take care of me a little longer. Not that I’m complaining about that.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not,” she said, her tone teasing yet affectionate.

Natasha’s heart swelled at your words, the playfulness in your voice making her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t expected.

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her, “Now, let me finish. You’re distracting me.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and she sighed, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Okay, baby. I’ll be good,” she replied, her voice low and tender, the endearment slipping out naturally, almost as if it were second nature.

Your cheeks flushed deeper, your eyes flickering up to meet Natasha’s for a moment before you quickly looked away, trying to maintain her professional composure. Both the embarrassment and focus in your expression were endearing, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel like she was over the moon.

As you continued your work, gently dabbing the last of the ointments and soothing creams on her, Natasha stayed quiet, simply enjoying the sight of you and the way you moved with purpose and care. There was something comforting about being cared for by someone she loved, and in these moments, Natasha felt grateful and at peace.

When you finished, you pulled away to clean your hands as Natasha laid her head back against the adjustable bed, the head of it raised up comfortably for her to lean against. She let out a quiet breath as her head sank into the pillow. The tension that had coiled through her muscles slowly unwound, leaving her feeling weightless, almost serene. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft smile played on her lips. The cool air of the med bay, the distant hum of machines, all faded into the background as she focused on the lingering warmth of your touch, the way your fingers had brushed against Natasha's skin so gently.

The pain that had been gnawing at her ribs was a dull, distant ache now, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. She let herself sink deeper into that feeling, savoring it, her thoughts blissfully quiet for once.

She was content—more content than she could remember being in a long time. This was enough—your presence, the gentle care you had shown, the soft, lingering scent of antiseptic, and something sweeter, something uniquely you. Natasha's smile deepened, and she sighed softly, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection. She could stay here forever, knowing you were right next to her.

And then, just as Natasha felt herself drifting on the edge of sleep, she heard your voice—soft, tentative, pulling her back from the brink.

“Natasha.”

“Hm?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t think I’ve said it yet,” she heard you say, your voice shy but sure. “But, I love you, too.”

Natasha's eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, her heart skipping a beat as she registered the words. She lifted her head, her gaze locking onto your face, which was now tinged with a soft blush. For a moment, Natasha just stared at you, caught off guard by the sudden rush of warmth spreading through her chest as she looked at you. You stood there, absentmindedly wiping your hands clean. But your usual composed demeanor was now softened, your shyness making you seem even more beautiful in Natasha’s eyes. The way you flushed, the way your lips curled into that shy smile—it all felt like a dream.

Without thinking, driven purely by instinct, Natasha tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp protest from her broken rib. Her only focus was you—your face, your lips—drawing nearer, as if she were being pulled by an invisible force. She needed to close the distance; she needed to feel those soft lips of yours against hers.

But before she could move any closer, your hand was there—firm yet gentle—against her chest, guiding her back down with a tender but insistent pressure.

“Whoa, hey,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern as you kept Natasha in place, your touch more soothing than restraining. “Don’t move. You need to minimize all movement.”

Natasha let out a frustrated exhale, her pout unmistakable as she stared up at you, caught between longing and the dull ache in her side.

“You seriously expect me not to kiss you after you just told me you love me?” She murmured, her voice tinged with a playful defiance, though her body reluctantly surrendered to your care.

“Yes, I do.”

But your lips curled into a knowing smile as you saw the frustration in Natasha’s eyes. With a gentle, playful smile, you leaned down, your lips barely brushing Natasha’s in a tender kiss. The contact was fleeting, but it held a promise of more. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips instinctively moving toward yours in a desperate attempt to deepen the kiss. She sighed against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your lips finally pressing against hers. She felt a surge of warmth as she reached for you, her hand finding its way to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, trying to pull you closer.

But your hand remained steady on Natasha’s chest, a gentle reminder to keep still. You pulled back just enough to keep the kiss from deepening, her breath mingling with Natasha’s as you looked down with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said softly, her tone both affectionate and teasing. “I do believe I told you to rest.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a playful pout, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gazed up at you, her thumb caressing the skin behind your ear as her hand rested against the side of your neck.

“You know,” Natasha said, her voice a sultry whisper, “I’m starting to think you enjoy having this kind of power over me.”

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you gave her a sexy glance. “Maybe,” she admitted, her smile widening.

Natasha grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she relaxed back against the pillow. “Well, if this is what it takes to get more of those kisses,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “then I might just have to let you boss me around a bit longer.”

Your cheeks flushed with a soft pink, your eyes shining amusement. You leaned down again, giving Natasha one last gentle peck before pulling back, your hand still resting lightly on Natasha’s chest. You pulled back slightly, your expression softening as you met her eyes.

“Rest,” you said sternly, though your voice held a trace of affection. The authority in your tone was undeniable, but it was softened by the warmth of her gaze.

Natasha’s smile lingered, a hint of playful defiance still dancing in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied softly, her voice carrying a teasing edge despite her agreement.

She sank back into the bed, the pain in her ribs momentarily forgotten as she focused the thought of your presence, your gentle hands, and your soft, delicious lips. As Natasha lay back against the pillow, her body finally succumbing to the soothing embrace of rest, contentment washing over her. The pain in her ribs seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the warmth of your presence.

Later, opening her eyes for a moment, she could see you sitting beside her, comfortably nestled into that same chair, now with a book in your hand. The sight of you getting ready to be absorbed in your reading, keeping Natasha company as she rested, filled her peace.

She reached out to you with a quiet, unspoken need, finding your hand resting gently on the bed. Noticing the gesture, you let Natasha’s fingers settle softly into your own, allowing your hands to rest together against the cool sheets. With a soft smile, you held the book in your other hand, the pages casually open, resting comfortably on your lap. As Natasha’s fingers intertwined with yours, your touch remained light and soothing, squeezing softly as you held her hand. As her eyelids grew heavy and the soothing pull of sleep began to claim her, she relished the comfort of your hand in hers. The warmth of your fingers, soft and steady, felt perfect in hers. The subtle pressure of your grip was calming, intimate, and gentle, wrapping Natasha in a warmth she’d like to keep forever. Knowing you were there eased Natasha into that peacefulness she aimed to never lose.

And with a soft sigh, Natasha closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic sound of your gentle breathing lull her into a serene sleep. Her thoughts drifted, focused on dreaming of you, excited for what the future had in store for the two of you. The gentle light of the bedside lamp cast a warm glow—with Natasha’s face peaceful in sleep, and you occasionally glanced down at your joined hands before returning to your book.

note: i think i may have gotten carried away womp womp (also there’s no masterlist yet for natasha since this is my first one)

#natasha romanoff x reader #IM FKN SOBBING HELP #this was so perfect #L is for the way you look atme

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