Oakley

she/her | 20 I write fanfics of fictional women Requests: Closed • No one is permitted to stealing my work or reposting it as their own •

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[fetusgooseandjuice]

Spilled Sodas

Pairings: Cassie McKay x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Cassie drags you to a Dodgers game with the promise of making it a date, she fucks it up. Now, she has no choice but to make it up to you.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Mild angst | Cassie being a jerk and then showing how downbad she really is | Smut - Fingering (Reader!Receiving), Oral (Reader!Receiving)

Traffic moved toward the stadium in slow waves, the city highlighted gold by the evening sun. The windows were cracked just enough to let cool air move through the car, carrying distant noise from outside.

Cassie looked completely relaxed behind the wheel.

One hand rested at the top of the steering wheel while the other stayed spread across your thigh, fingers warm against your skin. Every so often her thumb moved without her realizing it, small, absentminded strokes while she talked.

“And if they keep playing like they did last week,” she explained, eyes still on the road ahead. “They’ll probably keep this lineup through postseason.”

You looked over at her from where your head rested against the seat. “I know you think I understand what you’re saying.”

She frowned slightly. “But you do understand. I explained this earlier.”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just listening because your voice is nice.”

That pulled a soft chuckle out of her. “Well thank you, baby. For putting up with me.”

“Mhm.”

She shook her head in amusement.

The closer you got, the thicker traffic became. Cars packed around you with Dodgers flags hanging from windows, groups of people crossing streets in jerseys and caps.

Cassie kept talking anyway. She just got like this when she was excited about something. She couldn’t exactly help it, but you didn’t mind.

“And Garcia swears they’re gonna fall apart by August, but she says that every season so nobody listens to her anymore.”

You hummed quietly, tracing your fingers along the frays of your shorts. “Who’s the one you said takes baseball weirdly seriously?”

“Langdon.”

“The one with the hair?”

That pulled a snort from her. “Yeah, babe. The one with the hair.”

You nodded like that meant something to you. Truthfully, most of Cassie’s coworkers blurred together after a while. You knew stories more than faces at this point.

“You should’ve heard them arguing,” Cassie said, smiling to herself now. “It went on for like half the shift.”

That argument is precisely how you got here in the first place.

Earlier that week, the emergency department had been unusually calm for once. Someone had the Dodgers game playing near the nurses station while everybody worked, and at some point Garcia made a comment about the team blowing the series.

That should’ve been the end of it.

Instead, Langdon argued back. Then Santos joined in. Then Whitaker started looking up stats on his phone while pretending he didn’t care enough to participate.

Ahmad simply made the entire thing worse—always one to add fuel to the fire.

He’d turned around in his chair and started collecting predictions from everybody like he was hosting some kind of game show instead of working another security guard shift in the Pitt.

Garcia said the Dodgers would lose.

Langdon insisted they’d win in six.

Santos mostly participated to annoy Garcia.

Whitaker claimed everybody was overreacting while continuing to contribute statistics nobody asked for or paid any attention to. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, he mentioned he had two Dodgers tickets he wasn’t going to use because his brother canceled on him at the last minute.

That was when the bet stopped being casual.

Ahmad immediately decided whoever guessed the series outcome closest got the tickets.

Cassie had only joined because everybody else was already involved and in the end, the Dodgers won exactly the way she predicted they would. Which meant she walked out of her shift with two tickets and an ego big enough to be genuinely irritating about it.

You still remembered the way she came through your apartment door that night.

Still in scrubs, bangs messy from a twelve hour shift, exhausted, but smiling so hard the second she saw you that you knew immediately she was about to ask for something.

“What?” you asked from the couch before she could even speak.

Cassie dropped her bag by the door. “I have a surprise.”

“Should I be scared?”

“No, you should be proud of me.”

You laughed skeptically at your girlfriend. “Okay, let me rephrase that. What did you do?”

“I won.”

“You saying that with no context is terrifying.”

Cassie walked over to the couch, already digging into the pocket of her scrub pants before pulling out the tickets.

Your eyebrows lifted immediately. “Those are real?”

“As real as they get.”

You took them from her carefully, looking down at the Dodgers logo printed across the front. “You won baseball tickets?”

“I won the bet.” Cassie explained, sitting down beside you close enough that her knee pressed against yours.

“Cass…”

“I know, I know.” she said quickly, gently pulling the tickets from your hand and setting them down on the coffee table. She took your free hands into hers like she was trying to coax a shy puppy out of its cage.

“I don’t even like baseball.”

“But you like me though, right?”

You looked at her unimpressed.

Cassie was sitting up straight, watching you carefully now. She looked excited, but quieter about it suddenly, like she truly cared what your answer would be.

“We don’t have to stay the whole game,” she assured. “I just thought it’d be nice.”

“You want to spend your Friday night explaining baseball to me?”

“I want to spend my Friday night with you.”

That was the problem with her sometimes. She said things like that so simply that it made it hard to argue back.

“And,” she added after a second. “I’ll make it feel just like a date. Promise.”

You narrowed your eyes at her slightly. “A baseball game.” you said bluntly.

“A date at a baseball game.”

“I bet that sounded different in your head than it did out loud.”

Cassie laughed then, leaning closer until her shoulder bumped yours. “Come on,” she said softly. “Please?”

And honestly, it wasn’t really the tickets that convinced you.

It was her.

The way she looked genuinely excited at the idea of bringing you somewhere she loved. So eventually, after enough convincing, a kiss to your cheek, and Cassie promising multiple times that she wouldn’t spend the whole game neglecting you for baseball—you agreed.

Now, sitting in the passenger seat while stadium lights glowed ahead of you, you were starting to think maybe it had been worth saying yes after all.

Cassie pulled into the parking lot slowly, rows of cars stretching around you. “You look beautiful by the way.” she said suddenly.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward your outfit before she parked expertly between two cars.

You’d spent longer getting ready than you originally planned to. Jean shorts, white top, the oversized Dodgers jersey Cassie insisted you borrow hanging open over it all.

A little more makeup than you usually wore on a daily basis, mostly because she kept calling this a date all week and somewhere along the way, you began treating it like one too.

“You already said that before we left,” you reminded her.

“I know.” Cassie shut the car off, looking over at you fully now. “Just felt like telling you again.”

Warmth crept up your face before you looked away toward the windshield. She reached over, brushing her fingers briefly against your thigh again before opening her door. She fell into step beside you, immediately reaching for your hand as the two of you started toward the entrance.

The stadium felt different once you were actually inside it. The music, the announcers, the buzz of thousands of voices blending together—everything echoed. People moved with trays of food and drinks through the crowded walkways while the smell of popcorn and hot dogs hung in the air.

Cassie walked slightly ahead of you, turning back every few seconds to make sure you were still there despite her firm grip on your hand.

You let her pull you toward concessions first, mostly because she looked so confident weaving through the stadium like she’d done this a hundred times before.

Popcorn. Nachos. Two drinks.

You watched her while she waited for everything, the way she shifted her weight impatiently from foot to foot, already glancing around toward the field every few seconds like she was trying not to miss anything before the game had even officially started.

It was kind of adorable.

She balanced the food carefully while leading you toward your section, occasionally stopping to look at signs overhead before continuing down another set of stairs.

“You really know where you’re going,” you said.

Cassie glanced back over her shoulder. “I studied the map.”

“You studied the map?”

“So I knew where to go. I didn’t want to have you just walking around.”

The way she said it made your heart skip a beat in your chest again—because of how hard she was trying to make this enjoyable for you.

Cassie let you slide into your seat first before sitting beside you, setting the popcorn between your legs and drinks in the cupholders.

You looked around, and it was actually kind of nice. The sky had gone fully dark now, the lights shining against it while people settled into their seats all around you.

Cassie watched your face carefully for a second. “Well?” she asked.

You looked over at her. “Okay. I kind of get why people like this.”

A grin spread across her face immediately. “Yeah?”

“Don’t get too excited.”

“Too late.”

Cassie relaxed back into her seat beside you and when you shifted closer, she adjusted. Her arm stretched around the back of your seat so you could tuck yourself against her side comfortably.

“There you are,” Cassie murmured quietly.

You peered up slightly. “What?”

“You finally stopped acting like I kidnapped you.”

“I’m still deciding, thank you.”

Cassie chuckled, looking down at you for a second before smiling to herself. A few minutes later, she reached into the popcorn bucket and held a piece near your mouth without saying anything.

You stared at her and she just lifted her eyebrows slightly.

You laughed under your breath before leaning forward enough to take it from her fingers.

“See?” she said. “You’re already getting into the baseball experience.”

“It’s just popcorn.”

“It’s stadium popcorn. Different thing entirely.”

You rolled your eyes a little, but you were smiling.

At one point, while you were simply watching the field more than actually paying attention to it, she turned your head slightly and kissed you quick enough that it almost caught you off guard. Just one soft press of her lips against yours before she leaned back again like nothing happened.

You looked at her.

Cassie fought back her grin as if she was trying to seem oblivious, eyes already drifting back toward the field again. “What?”

“Nothing.”

But warmth lingered in your chest afterward anyway—and for a while, you really did think the night was going to be fun.

Then the game started.

The crowd got louder, thousands of people focused in the same direction all at once, and beside you, Cassie changed with it.

The second the players ran onto the field, she was on her feet with everybody else around you, clapping loudly, yelling toward the field with a grin wider than you’d seen all night.

The sudden noise and movement from her startled you enough that you jerked slightly where you sat—previously cuddled up to her side.

At first, you tried following along.

Every few minutes the crowd exploded over something happening on the field you didn’t understand quickly enough to follow. And every time it happened, Cassie got pulled into it instantly.

Even though you didn’t understand most of what was going on, you had to admit the concentrated look on her face was cute. She’d lean closer to you between plays so you could hear, explaining things quickly while still watching the game.

“That guy’s been struggling all season, so if he gets on base right now—”

The entire crowd roared before she could finish explaining and Cassie stood right back up with them, eyes fixed on the field while people around you shouted and clapped.

You looked out at the game, trying to figure out what everyone was reacting to, but by the time you understood where to even look, the moment was already over.

For a while, you didn’t really mind.

You mostly watched her.

The way she hunched forward during close plays. The way she reacted half a second before the crowd sometimes, like she already knew what was about to happen.

She looked happy, and honestly, that was enough.

But eventually, you started feeling the distance between you grow anyway.

“Cass, look at that guy on the screen—”

“Wait, hold on, baby.” Cassie said, her hand falling to our arm briefly as if to stop you while her eyes stayed fixed ahead. “I think they’re reviewing the play.”

You nodded along, but it quickly started happening more. Every time you tried getting her attention, the game interrupted first.

“Cass—”

“Hold on.”

“Wait, look—”

“One second, baby.”

And after a while, you mostly stopped trying.

You just huffed, slouching back into your seat while the game pulled more and more of her attention away from you a little at a time.

It almost seemed like she acknowledged strangers more than she did you, as she talked with the people sitting beside you over bad calls made by the umpires.

The worst part was she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

Then the home run happened.

One second everybody was tense and focused—the next, the entire stadium exploded into screaming.

“Holy shit!”

Cassie sprung up suddenly and her knee slammed into the seat hard enough to jolt the drink from the cupholder. You barely even had time to react before freezing cold soda spilled down the front of your shirt and straight into your lap.

The shock of the icy drink made you suck in a breath immediately, and Cassie froze immediately. Her face fell and her eyes dropped to your soaked clothes before widening.

“Oh shit—baby.” she dropped back into her seat, grabbing the few napkins from beside the popcorn bucket so fast they nearly tore in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she rambled. “I’m so sorry.”

She started trying to blot the soda from your shirt frantically, despite clearly realizing that there was way too much for a few napkins to fix.

“I didn’t even—fuck.” Cassie looked up at you again, guilt written all over her face.

“It’s okay,” you said, even though your voice came out tighter than you meant it to.

She kept trying anyway, dabbing uselessly at your clothes while apologizing under her breath. You looked down at yourself for a second before exhaling quietly through your nose.

And suddenly the whole night hit you all at once.

The noise.

The crowdedness.

The constant feeling that you’d come here to spend time with Cassie, while she came here to watch baseball.

You caught her wrist gently, stopping her movements. “Cass,” you said, and her eyes found yours immediately. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

Her expression fell even further, like she knew there wasn’t really anything she could say right now that would help. “Okay,” she said softly.

You nodded once before stepping past her and disappearing up the row of stairs.

— —

By the time you came back, your shirt was still damp. Not soaked anymore, but enough that you could still feel it clinging uncomfortably against your skin underneath the jersey.

You walked back down your row expecting to find Cassie completely focused on the game again. Instead, her head lifted from the field almost instantly the second she saw you.

Relief crossed her face so fast it made your chest ache a little despite yourself.

“There you are,” she stood to let you pass before holding out a folded blue Dodgers hoodie from the merch stand in one hand, your favorite candy awkwardly tucked into it.

You blinked once.

Cassie rubbed the back of her neck lightly and swallowed. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she admitted quietly.

Some of the irritation in your chest loosened at the embarrassment she obviously felt, and you took the hoodie carefully from her hands. “Thank you.”

“Is your shirt stained?”

“A little.”

“Yeah,” Cassie muttered. “I’m really sorry about that.”

Then, before you could answer, the crowd erupted into angered remarks at something happening on the field again.

Cassie’s gaze flicked to the field on instinct. “Oh—wait wait.”

She sat back down quickly, eyes already returning to the game while you pulled the hoodie over your damp shirt.

A second later she leaned toward you again, pointing towards the players. “Okay, this is what I was trying to explain earlier.”

And the rest of the game passed exactly like that. Cassie zeroed in on the game just as she was before, and you now wanting nothing more than to just go home.

— —

When the game finally ended, the entire stadium was on its feet. The Dodgers won, and Cassie looked thrilled. She laughed, already speaking before the two of you had even fully stepped out of your row.

“I told you they’d pull it off,” she said, looking over at you with flushed cheeks and that same bright excitement she’d had all night. “Did you see that last play?”

You smiled faintly. “Mhm.”

Cassie continued on while the two of you slowly moved with the crowd toward the exits, her hand finally finding yours. Most of it faded together after a while—something about pitching, something about defense, players names you still didn’t know.

You just listened quietly beside her.

The parking lot was chaos afterward, headlights stretching endlessly between rows of cars while people yelled across the lot still riding the energy of the game.

Cassie was still riding the high of the win too. She kept talking as she drove, replaying moments from the game out loud, occasionally shaking her head and laughing to herself when she got to a part she still couldn't believe happened.

You listened with your head resting against the window.

Every now and then you'd hum or nod just enough to acknowledge you were listening, but the conversation never really became a conversation.

When the car came to a stop at a red light, Cassie’s hand settled back onto your thigh, warm and familiar just like it had been earlier.

Only this time, you turned slightly toward the window without really thinking about it.

Cassie noticed anyway, her words trailing off for a second before she glanced over at you briefly. “You okay?”

You kept your eyes on the passing lights outside. “Yep.”

Then the light turned green. She looked at you for another second like she was trying to decide whether she believed that, but decided to drop it, her gaze falling back on the road ahead.

By the time Cassie pulled into your apartment complex, you felt drained.

The second the car stopped, you reached for the door, and the sound of it shutting behind you made Cassie pause.

Not just because it was loud— but also because you moved fast too. You were already halfway up the walkway before she'd even grabbed her keys.

And the moment she'd ignored at the red light returned to her mind immediately. When she finally caught up to you, you had gotten the apartment door unlocked.

"Hey,” she said.

You didn't stop.

The door swung open as you stepped over the threshold, and Cassie barely caught it before it closed on her. Inside, the apartment was quiet. After spending three hours in a packed stadium, the silence felt eerily strange.

Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft click of the door shutting completely. Behind you, Cassie dropped her keys onto the counter, the sound echoing through the room.

For a second she just watched you.

You kicked your shoes off by the door and headed toward the living room. The Dodgers hoodie followed next, pulling it over your head and tossing it onto the couch.

The shirt underneath clung to your skin.

Hours later, the soda had mostly dried, but it left behind a tacky material that stretched across your stomach every time the fabric shifted.

God, you wanted a shower.

“Okay,” Cassie finally spoke up, her voice breaking through the quiet. “What’s going on?”

You shrugged off the button up jersey she insisted on you wearing, discarding that onto the back of the couch as well, leaving you in a white tank top. Cool air finally hit your skin, and it felt refreshing after the long game you’d sat through.

"Nothing's going on."

"Come on, I know that’s not true."

“Everything’s fine, Cassie.”

"Baby,”

You rolled your eyes, huffing in annoyance before finally deciding to look at her. She was still standing by the front door, her hands on her hips as she studied you carefully.

You broke eye contact first. "Next time just take Langdon."

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and Cassie's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

You shrugged. "You would've had more fun."

"With Langdon?"

"Or Santos. Or Garcia. Whoever else."

Cassie looked genuinely baffled. "Where is this coming from?"

"You spent the whole night talking baseball with the people around us anyway."

A small crease appeared between her brows—she still wasn't following. "Okay..."

You laughed quietly to yourself, shaking your head, because somehow she still didn't get it. "You know what? Forget it."

You turned toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, however, Cassie caught your wrist before you could get very far. Not roughly, just enough to stop you.

"Hey."

You glanced down at her hand wrapped around your arm, then back up at her. "What?"

"What are you actually upset about?"

The question irritated you immediately and you pulled your wrist free.

"What am I upset about?" you stared at her for a second in disbelief that she even had to ask. "Cassie, I just sat through two and a half hours of baseball."

At that, a smile immediately threatened to appear on her face.

You pointed a finger at her. "Stop it."

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, trying and failing to hide it. You shook your head and started pacing toward the couch.

"I don't even like baseball. I spent the entire night pretending to understand what was happening."

"I know, baby. And I appreciate you for that."

"Yet somehow you're still looking at me like I’m a joke."

The amusement faded from her face instantly at your words. Maybe she should be taking this more seriously than she was. "Then tell me what I'm missing."

You stopped pacing now to actually look at her. "I went because you wanted me there." your voice came out quieter this time.

Cassie's expression visibly softened from the change. Like the irritation had faded and a tinge of vulnerability began to emerge even if you didn’t mean for it to.

"I thought I was finally gonna spend a night with my girlfriend after a busy couple weeks." you said, continuing before she could respond. "I got ready, I stood in front of my closet for twenty minutes trying to figure out what you wear to a baseball game."

Her eyes moved over your outfit automatically—or what was left of it, but she remembered exactly how you looked before you’d left the house.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Not teasing, but fond. Which somehow made you more annoyed.

"I was trying to look nice."

"You did look nice."

"That's not the point."

"Then what's the point?"

"The point is that I felt like I was sitting next to the commentator instead of my girlfriend the entire time."

Something shifted in Cassie's face, you saw the way it fell immediately. The realization or at least something close to it.

Good, maybe she was finally listening.

"And then you dumped your soda on me."

Cassie groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh my God, that was an accident—"

"I was marinating in Coke for hours. I still am."

“Okay,” despite herself, she let out a short, humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. "Okay, yeah. That was pretty bad. You still looked cute in the hoodie, though."

"Cassie."

"I’m sorry."

You stared at her blankly, like you were trying to confirm if she was actually being serious before sighing and shaking your head.

"I should've just stayed home."

"Baby, no—"

"I would've had a better time if I did."

“Come on, don’t say that.”

She watched as you began collecting your clothes from the cushions, and reached for you. Her arms went to wrap around your waist, but you stepped back before she could fully touch you.

Cassie's hands dropped, and so did her expression.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Baby—"

"Not right now." you inhaled through your nose as you turned and headed down the hallway. "I still feel gross."

This time, she didn’t try to stop you. Her mouth opened only to close when she couldn’t find the right thing to say, if there even was such a thing in that moment.

A few seconds later, she heard the bathroom door shut, the sound ringing through the apartment. Cassie stood in the living room for a second longer before slowly sinking onto the couch.

Her eyes landed in the direction of the bedroom you left.

Then on your abandoned shoes by the door.

And finally on the empty spot beside her.

At first she just stared, then squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back into the cushions, mentally cursing herself for how stupid she’d been. The more she replayed the night, the worse she felt.

Because she recounted the amount of instances you'd tried to spend time with her while her focus was somewhere else.

A knot formed in her stomach.

Then the spilled drink.

At the time she'd been focused on cleaning up the mess and getting you something to cover up with. Now all she could picture was you sitting there uncomfortable for hours while she kept talking about the game.

The realization made heat creep up the back of her neck.

Fuck.

Cassie pressed her lips together. You hadn't been asking for much.

Just her attention. Just a date. Just her.

She thought about the drive home and how quiet you'd been. How she'd filled every silence with baseball again. How she'd only asked if you were okay when you physically pulled away from her.

She let out a heavy sigh, because you were right.

— —

The apartment was still buzzing with silence when you stepped out of the bedroom.

The shower had helped—maybe not with your mood, but at least you no longer felt like dried soda was glued to your skin. You’d changed into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, the clean set of clothes making you feel refreshed.

Cassie looked up the millisecond she heard you coming down the hallway.

She’d remained in her spot on the couch the whole time you were gone. Not watching television, or scrolling on her phone. Just sitting there. And the second she saw you, she straightened slightly.

She watched as you made your way over to the kitchen, mentally debating if now was the time, before deciding to follow. The couch cushions shifted under her weight as she stood up.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her feet brushing against the floor, slow.

As if she were approaching cautiously because she wasn’t sure how you’d react. Her shoulders dropped a little when you ignored her, only opening a cabinet to grab a glass.

“Baby,”

This time a faint hum left you.

Not exactly an answer, and also not completely disregarding her. You filled the glass from the refrigerator water dispenser, and Cassie appeared behind you a few seconds later. She didn’t touch you, but she was close enough that you could feel her presence.

“I’m sorry.”

You took a sip from your cup. “Hm.”

Cassie sighed, the sound carrying a little frustration with it. Because for someone who spent all day talking baseball, she suddenly couldn’t figure out what to say.

You downed the rest of your drink and set the glass beside the sink, turning to leave again. But before you could get more than a step away, Cassie’s hand closed gently around your wrist.

The movement happened so quickly you barely processed it.

One second you were planning to leave, the next you were being spun back around and your feet had left the floor. She lifted you like you weighed absolutely nothing and set you on the countertop.

Immediately, she stepped between your knees and her hands braced themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping within her arms.

Your eyes widened as you blinked at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get you to listen to me.”

“I was listening to you.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, the action alone telling you she didn’t believe that for a second.

“No,” she denied slowly. “You might’ve been listening to my voice but you weren’t hearing what I was saying.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, doesn’t feel too great does it?”

That response shocked her into silence, and her mouth pressed into a thin line. Your arms folded across your chest as you looked past her shoulder toward the living room, toward anything except her stare.

Clearly you were still very upset.

For a moment neither of you said a word.

Cassie eventually inhaled a deep breath before speaking up. “You were right. About everything.” she started softly.

Your jaw tightened immediately.

You hated hearing that because it made it harder to stay angry.

For the last hour you’d been mentally preparing for this exact conversation. Planning what you were going to say and how you were going to say it. Now, she was agreeing with you.

It was annoying.

“I didn’t realize how dismissive I was being, and I hurt you.”

A quiet sigh escaped through your nose that Cassie noticed instantly.

“You weren’t there because you wanted to watch baseball.” she said. “You were there because I asked you to be.”

Your fingers tightened around your folded arms. The words landed harder than you wanted them to because that was exactly it. You hadn’t gone for the Dodgers, you had gone for her.

“I keep thinking about you trying to talk to me.” Cassie’s voice stayed quiet. “I remember now, and I hate that I brushed you off the way I did.”

Your eyes dropped briefly to the counter between you at the memory of how upset you gradually became, how embarrassed you were.

“I was so excited about the game, but that’s not an excuse.” she watched your face carefully when you continued avoiding her gaze.

“I meant it when I said I wanted it to be a date.”

Your gaze flicked back to her at that.

For the first time since you’d come out of the shower, and Cassie’s eyes softened immediately when she realized she’d finally gotten your attention.

“I wasn’t lying.”

You looked at her—really looked at her, and the sincerity in her gaze made all of your built up walls nearly crumble on the spot.

“I just got carried away.” a tiny smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “And apparently I turned into some crazed Dodgers fan.”

Your lips twitched before you could stop them, and immediately your mouth flattened again.

But it was too late.

“There she is.” a faint warmth appeared in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes and looked away again. “Don’t ruin it.”

The smile that spread across Cassie’s face was soft, relieved. Like she’d been waiting all night to see even the slightest crack in your stubbornness.

Cassie slid her hands to your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter and against her front. This time you let her, and a warm kiss landed against your cheek.

Then another.

“Cassie.” you warned.

And another.

“Yes, baby?”

“You think you can fix everything with kisses?”

“I can try.” she pressed another to your jawline. “Is it working?”

Her hands settled on the top of your thighs, and you became suddenly hyperaware of how close she was standing. The argument had distracted you from it before, but now there was nothing else to focus on other than her.

She pulled back to look at you, and your gaze dropped to her hand placement for a second before meeting hers again.

“You know,” she said softly. “You’re really cute when you’re pretending you’re still mad at me.”

You scoffed immediately. “You’re not completely off the hook yet. You’re still in trouble.”

“Yeah?”

“Very serious trouble.”

She breathed out a sigh. “I guess that just means I’m gonna have to make it up to you.” her hands glided higher as her mouth returned to your neck.

You fought to keep your eyes open at the feeling of her soft lips on you. Your head tilted to give her more room against your better judgement. As much as this is how you wanted your night to go—you were still pissed at her.

“Hm?” she murmured, her mouth trailing further down. “Are you gonna let me make it up to you, babygirl?”

A gasp caught in your throat when her teeth grazed your skin. She paused at your pulse point, focusing on that spot for a moment as she nipped gently before soothing the bite with an opened mouthed kiss.

Her lips then captured yours.

The way she kissed you so deeply honestly caught you off guard. It was different from the quick, brief pecks she’d given you earlier before the game. Like she wanted you to feel how sorry she really was instead of just saying it.

You soon pulled back just enough to get some air, your lips barely brushing hers. “Better get on with it before I change my mind.”

Cassie chuckled and she didn’t give you time to respond before she hauled you off the counter. A startled gasp escaped you and you clung to her instinctively, legs tightening around her middle and arms wrapping around her shoulders as she carried you towards the bedroom.

The door clicked shut with a nudge of her foot, and the mattress dipped under your weight as Cassie laid you down, crawling to hover over you. Your hands tugged at her jersey and she instantly pulled it over her head, tossing it somewhere on the floor. You always loved the feeling of her skin on yours.

Her mouth found yours once more. Cassie’s hands wasted no time in gliding up your sides, the usual coldness of her hands a sharp contrast to the warmth of your freshly washed skin. Your shirt was soon bunched up above your chest, and a shiver ran down your spine when her thumb brushed over your sensitive nipple.

You gasped lightly into the kiss, and Cassie smiled victoriously. She parted from your lips, trailing kisses down your throat until she reached your breasts. She focused on the left one first, her mouth closing around the areola as her tongue swirled around your nipple.

Heat shot straight to your core, soft whimpers falling from your lips at the stimulation. Her hand cupped the right one, giving it a firm squeeze before her fingers began toying with the hardened bud.

She pulled, twisted, rubbed—you could feel your panties getting embarrassingly soaked by the second from the way they were sticking to you.

Cassie switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. Her tongue circled around your nipple before latching back on. Only when your hips began bucking up into her did she chuckle, taking the hint.

Her hand traveled lower until they reached the waistband of your shorts, slipping beneath the fabric. She was instantly met with dampness, your slick generously coating her fingers. Your breath hitched at the feeling of her touch exactly where you needed it.

She pulled off your breast with a grin. “Jesus, baby.” she teased, her fingers sliding under your panties to run along your slit. “This wet for me already?”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the comment, but a moan was forced out of you at the sudden intrusion of her two fingers. She chuckled at the look of pleasure that settled on your face. Your eyes had fallen shut and your head rested back into the pillows.

“Fuck—Cassie,”

“Yeah, baby? That feel good?” she drew back before pushing in again, curling her fingers once she was knuckle deep. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

The spot she was hitting so accurately made your walls clench around her fingers, eager to keep them inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as she fucked you slowly, and you thought she was finally going to give you what you’d been waiting for, but all of a sudden—she pulled out.

Your eyelids flew open. “Cassie,” you groaned, staring at her in annoyance.

She was walking a fine line from earlier and you still weren’t particularly happy with her, so this was in no way helping her case, but she paid no mind to your scolding.

“Relax, baby.” she said, sitting up to pull your underwear and shorts down your legs. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Cassie ran her hands soothingly along your calves as she returned to her position between your thighs. She laid flat on her stomach and let your legs drape over her shoulders, now staring directly at your dripping cunt.

You had expected to be met with more teasing—Cassie loved to make you wait and get you all riled up before giving you what you wanted. You’d anticipated maybe another finger that she would refuse to sink in deep enough to satisfy you, or maybe a stroke of her tongue that she wouldn’t let you feel long enough to actually be pleasurable.

That’s why your breath caught so roughly in your throat when she dove in like a woman starved. You weren’t prepared for the way her tongue glided through your folds with a delicious pressure that made your eyes roll back into your head. When she reached your clit she sucked hard, moaning into you at the taste she never got tired of.

The vibrations made you cry out and your legs tried to involuntarily shut around her head, but her hands wrapped around your thighs to keep them open.

“Oh, fuck—Cass—”

Cassie ate you out desperately, her mouth working wonders on your cunt—like all she wanted was to make you feel good after a night of making you feel like shit.

She traced her tongue around the sensitive bud before closing her lips on it and sucking firmly in a way that had you keening and your hips bucked on their own accord.

Her tongue ran along your slit, probing at your aching hole for a moment before pushing all the way in. Your hands grabbed at her, looking for anything to hold as her tongue fucked deep into you.

You made the mistake of looking down at her at that moment, because her gaze was already locked on you.

The sight of your girlfriend—who you were thoroughly pissed off at not even a half hour ago—lying between your legs with your arousal glistening on her face as she fucked you with her tongue could have made you cum on the spot if you weren’t deliberately holding yourself back.

Her eye contact remained unwavering, and the attention would have been overwhelming if it wasn’t exactly what you had been wishing for all night. You were the first to break it, your eyes closing as keeping them open proved to be impossible with the pure ecstasy running through your body from her ministrations.

Your hand tangled in her hair and she groaned when you tugged, but she didn’t stop you. You were getting close, and she knew it from the way your walls were tightening around her tongue. Her thumb began to rub circles into your clit. Your other hand finally released its grip on the sheets to find her.

“Fuck, please—Cass, please—”

It was too much and not enough all at once, you couldn’t decide whenever to push her away or pull her closer. She used her free hand to lace her fingers with yours, offering a grounding touch as she doubled down on her efforts.

Her tongue curled, finding that angle that made you cry out for her. A few more perfectly timed thrusts and a particularly hard rub at your clit, and you were falling over the edge.

Your back arched as you went silent, and Cassie had to pry your clamped thighs open so she could fuck you through it properly. It washed over you in waves, and when you eventually came down you had to push her away to get her to stop.

She gave in to your protests and sat up, gently guiding your legs back down to the bed. Your chest heaved as you tried to regain your air, and the fucked out expression on your face made her smile.

Cassie probably didn’t look any better.

Her hair was disheveled, and she wiped her face that was most definitely covered in your slick with the back of her hand. She moved to hover over you, her forearms resting on either side of your head. She brushed your hair back from your forehead as she peppered kisses across your cheek.

“My sweet girl,” she murmured. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You hummed lightly, your eyes still shut as you allowed your body to come down from your high. She connected her lips with yours, and you moaned quietly at the taste of yourself still evident in her mouth.

Cassie pulled away, pecking your lips once before sitting up. She unzipped her pants that were somehow still on and kicked them to the floor before sliding back into bed beside you. She tugged the blanket over your naked body and gathered you into her arms.

The apartment had gone quiet again, but this one was comfortable. Not the tense silence that had followed your earlier argument.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

“Mhm,” you responded. “Can we just stay like this for a bit?”

Cassie pressed her lips to your hairline. “Yeah, of course, baby.”

You laid against Cassie for a while, basking in that post-sex bliss. You traced absentminded circles against the back of her hand where she intertwined your fingers, and neither of you seemed particularly ready to move.

Cassie was the first to break the silence.

“I really am sorry.”

You smiled faintly. “I know, Cass. It’s okay.”

“No.” she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “No it’s not okay.”

That made you turn your head, and she was already looking at you.

“I don’t ever want to be the reason you have a bad day.” she let out a quiet breath. “You’re supposed to enjoy being with me and I just hate knowing I made you feel alone while you were sitting right next to me.”

You watched her for a moment before reaching up to smooth down her bangs on her forehead.

“You did.” you said, and her eyes visibly saddened. “But…” you smiled a little. “You made up for it and I forgive you.”

Cassie chuckled lightly. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You laughed before focusing in on her hand again. After a moment, you spoke up. “You know…I never told you this.”

“What?”

“I still have no idea what an inning is.”

Cassie stared at you in disbelief for exactly one second before she broke out into a grin. “You sat through that whole game,”

“Mhm.”

“And you still don’t know?”

“Nope.”

She shook her head, laughing. “I must be a pretty shit teacher then.”

You smiled to yourself and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’d do it again, though.”

Cassie looked up in shock. “You would?”

“Yeah.” you said. “It was nice at first. You know, before the game started.”

Her expression softened as she looked at you, and she leaned in to kiss you softly. “You have no clue how much I love you.” she murmured against your lips. “Next time I’ll make sure it’s actually worth it.”

“I know you will, and I love you too.”

She would definitely be calling out of work next weekend to take you on a proper date.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Endorphins

Pairing: Cassie McKay x Fem!Reader

Summary: When your body can’t seem to let go of the flu, Cassie seems to have a better idea on how to help.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Smut: Fingering (Reader!Receiving), Oral (Reader!Receiving), Praise, Marking | Medication

A/N: First time writing smut so don’t judge too hard lmao

The first time you woke up, it was dark enough that you couldn’t even process what had dragged you out of your sleep.

One second you were warm beneath the blankets, tangled up in Cassie’s hoodie that you’d stolen from the floor earlier that night, and the next there was a violent twist in your stomach that had you jerking upright with a sharp breath.

Your head spun instantly.

“Shit—”

You barely got the word out before you were throwing the blankets off yourself and stumbling toward the bathroom.

The apartment was pitch black except for the faint glow of the microwave clock in the kitchen. Your feet hit the cold hardwood of the floor too hard, your balance way off as the nausea climbed fast and unforgiving up your throat.

You made it to the toilet just in time and your knees hit the tile painfully as you threw the lid open.

The sound echoed horribly in the tiny bathroom, making the pounding in your head feel even worse. Your stomach cramped again, emptying what little was in it to begin with while tears burned at the corners of your eyes from the force of it.

You heard movement behind you just a second before gentle fingers gathered your hair away from your face.

“There you go,” Cassie murmured softly, gingerly rubbing her hand along your back.

You froze for a second, and suddenly the exhaustion and embarrassment came crashing down all at once. “You’re awake?” your voice came out weak and strained between breaths.

Cassie’s hand slipped beneath your shirt, the skin to skin contact providing more comfort than you would’ve expected in this situation.

“Yeah, I heard you run in here. I just came to check on you.”

God, you hated being sick.

Especially like this—when Cassie had just worked a fifteen hour shift at the emergency room.

“You had work.” you muttered miserably. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m glad you did, baby. Wouldn’t want you going through this alone.”

Another cramp twisted through your stomach. Cassie instinctively lightened her caresses on your back at the way your face screwed up while you leaned heavily against the toilet seat.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

You nodded even though you obviously weren’t.

Cassie knew you well enough not to call you out on it immediately. She just stayed there with you, steady and warm behind you while the nausea slowly settled enough for you to breathe normally again.

When you finally leaned back against the cabinet with a shaky exhale, Cassie crouched beside you.

Her dark red hair was messy from sleep, oversized sweatpants hanging low on her hips, one of your old t-shirts wrinkled on her frame.

She looked exhausted to say the least.

Which only made the guilt worse.

“Cass,” you whispered. “Go back to bed. I’m okay now.”

She gave you a pointed look immediately. “You were just throwing up not even two minutes ago.”

“I know, but—”

“And you’re sweating. I can see it.”

“It’s probably something I ate.”

“You said that during dinner too where you barely ate your food.”

You sighed in defeat.

Cassie brushed her thumb beneath your eye gently before standing up and grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet. She turned on the sink and ran it under the cool water before kneeling in front of you again.

“Come here, babygirl.”

You complied and let her wipe your face carefully. The coolness on your skin did wonders for how hot you were feeling, but you would never tell her that.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” you mumbled.

Her expression softened instantly.

“Baby.” her voice dropped into that quiet tone she only used with you. “I’m your girlfriend. That’s literally part of the job description.”

Despite everything, you huffed a tiny laugh.

Cassie smiled softly. “There she is.” she murmured.

She helped you rinse your mouth out before pulling you carefully to your feet. The second you stood, the dizziness hit hard enough that you swayed.

Cassie caught you immediately.

“Whoa, okay.” her hands settled firmly on your waist, holding you steady. “Easy.”

“I’m fine.”

She snorted lightly at that.“So if I let go of you right now, you won’t collapse on me?”

You huffed and let her walk you back toward the bedroom. The room felt too warm now, and your skin felt clammy beneath your sweatshirt as Cassie pulled the blankets back for you.

You crawled in slowly and she tucked the sheets around you when you settled.

Cassie disappeared into the hallway for less than a minute before returning with a glass of water, setting it on your nightstand.

“Take small sips if you wake up nauseous again, okay?”

You nodded sleepily and she climbed back into bed beside you, pulling you carefully against her chest.

“You don’t have to stay awake,” you told her.

She simply shushed you. “Just go to sleep, baby.” she said, but despite your words, her hand still rubbed slowly along your spine until you fell asleep.

The second time you woke up, you knew immediately something was really wrong.

Everything hurt.

Your body ached like you’d been hit by a truck, weak and sore beneath the blankets. Your throat burned to the point even swallowing had you wincing. Your skin felt unbearably hot while somehow still leaving you shivering.

And your head—jesus christ.

It felt like your skull was splitting apart.

You whimpered quietly and pressed your face deeper into the pillow as if that would take any of the pain away.

Beside you, Cassie stirred instantly.

“Hey, you okay?” her voice was thick with sleep but alert underneath it.

You barely cracked your eyes open. “What time is it?”

Cassie reached for her phone, flipping it over and watching the screen light up. “Just after five.” she said, setting it back on the nightstand.

You groaned and slumped back into the pillow. Your forearm came up to cover your eyes.“Head hurts really bad.”

Cassie was already moving, the back of her hand coming to lay across your forehead. Her expression changed immediately.

“Oh, baby.” she sighed.

“What?”

“You’re burning up. You’re definitely running a fever.”

You squeezed your eyes shut again at her words, a groan leaving your sore throat. You felt the bed shift beneath you as she sat up fully.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?”

You had to think about that for a second. “Not really.”

Her fingers pressed tentatively around your abdomen, probably performing one of her doctor exams. “Any stomach pain?”

You shook your head weakly.

“Sore throat?”

“Mhm.”

“Body aches?”

“Yes.”

“Obvious headache,” she murmured to herself.

You peeked one eye open to find her already fully awake now, mentally sorting through symptoms with the kind of focus she used at work.

“Feeling congested at all?”

“A little.”

She hummed thoughtfully.

“The flu?” you guessed.

Cassie nodded her head, an empathetic expression on her face. “Probably.” she leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead despite your clammy skin.

“I’ll get you some medicine.”

You watched her disappear into the bathroom before returning a moment later with water, a pill bottle, and a thermometer.

She tucked the thermometer beneath your tongue. When it beeped a few seconds later, she checked it and sighed.

“102.8.”

You collapsed back against the pillow with a tired whine.

Cassie handed you two pills, watching until you actually swallowed them before setting the water aside.

“Try to sleep a little more, okay?”

“What about you?”

“I’m staying right here.”

Your brows furrowed. “But you have work in a couple hours.”

Cassie’s lips pressed into a thin line—that stubborn thing she always did when she’d already made up her mind.

“Now that’s not for you to worry about, baby.” she said.

Which meant absolutely nothing because she’d already decided. Too exhausted to argue, you let your eyes close again while she rubbed slow circles into your arm until you drifted off.

When you woke again, sunlight was now trying to peek in through the curtains.

You blinked sleepily at the clock.

10:07 AM.

The apartment was quieter, and that was when you realized Cassie was no longer beside you. Then somewhere down the hall you could hear the cabinets opening and closing softly, and the low hum of the coffee machine.

Your head throbbed dully against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt sore and heavy beneath the blankets, like gravity had doubled during the hours you were asleep.

It’d gotten a little better, though, with the help of the medicine.

Cassie appeared in the doorway carrying a mug in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, dark red hair still messy from sleep despite the fact that she’d clearly been awake for a while.

You frowned in confusion at the sight of her.

“Why are you still home?”

Cassie handed you the mug carefully. “It’s tea. Honey and lemon.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyeing her with suspicion. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I called out.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Cassie.” you chastised.

“What?”

“You can’t call out of work because I have the flu.”

“Um, I absolutely can.”

“But you worked all night already.”

“And now I’m taking care of my girlfriend who’s sick and needs me.” she explained like it should’ve been obvious.

The guilt returned, twisting hard within your chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Baby,” Cassie sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you, her thumb coming up to gentle brush against your heated cheek.“I called out because I wanted to. Robby can get mad at me all he wants but the most important thing to me right now is you.”

You looked down at the tea, fiddling with your fingers as you avoided eye contact with her. You probably sounded ridiculous right now.

“I just feel bad.”

Her expression softened again. “You know how many times I’ve taken care of strangers when they were sick?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m supposed to be your relaxing day off.”

Cassie smiled a little at that. “You think taking care of you isn’t relaxing?”

You gave her an unimpressed glare. “I’m all sweaty and gross and probably contagious. What part of that sounds relaxing to you?”

“Yes, you are contagious,” she admitted lightly, shifting to lie down next to you. “But you’re still my favorite person and just being with you is relaxing.”

Your chest ached warmly at that and now you regret ever questioning her.

Cassie brought the back of her hand up to your forehead again. “Fever’s still there, the medicine should’ve kicked in more by now.” she murmured. “How’s the nausea?”

“Gone.”

“Headache?”

“Still awful.”

“Body aches?”

“Yes.”

Cassie sighed quietly. “Okay.” she muttered to herself, and grabbed the bottle off her nightstand to hand you two more pills.

After swallowing back the medicine, you curled up on your side and tried to get comfortable, letting your eyes fall shut again. Cassie sat against the headboard, beginning to scroll through her phone while keeping an eye on you as you rested.

Sleep started to overtake you easily— that was until you felt a tickle against your neck.

You cracked an eye open as much as you could, and were met with dark red strands of hair just at the cusp of your peripheral.

Her lips brushed slowly along the edge of your jawline, leaving gentle pecks in their wake.

“Cass,” you groaned as she adjusted you, guiding you just slightly so you were laying fully on your back.

The woman in question simply hummed in response, her hands sliding under your shirt to caress the smooth flesh of your waist. Her cool hands were a sharp contrast to the warmth of your feverish body.

You felt her lips on your neck now, immediately drawn to the spot just below your ear that sent shivers down your spine every time.

“Cass,” you muttered again. “What’re you doing?”

“Mm, what does it look like I’m doing, baby?” she smirked against your skin. She knew exactly what she was doing. “I’m trying to help you feel better.”

“And how exactly is this going to make me less sick?”

“Endorphins.”

Your brows furrowed at her answer. “What?”

“Endorphins,” she repeated. Cassie’s mouth trailed up to press open-mouth kisses behind your ear, occasionally biting gently at the cartilage.

“The body naturally releases endorphins in response to pleasure—dopamine too. Which helps with mood, pain, and can support your immune system.” she explained, all while trying to achieve her apparent goal that was becoming more obvious of marking up your skin.

It was hard to concentrate on her words with her ministrations, but you registered enough to understand what she was thinking.

“You cannot be serious, Cass.” you murmured in disbelief.

She parted from your neck to capture your mouth in a gentle, but firm kiss. “I’m always serious when it comes to my girl's well-being.” she spoke against your lips.

“That is not—this is not—” you cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. “I think this is a terrible idea.”

“Then stop thinking and just let me take care of you, baby.” she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Cassie’s lips made their way around to the front of your throat, creeping lower as she sucked and bit lightly. She began shifting down your body, her kisses following the path.

Your collarbone, down your sternum, all the way to your abdomen. Her hands made themselves busy gliding up and down the length of your bare waist, gradually pushing your shirt higher and higher until it bunched up under your breasts.

Suddenly, she stopped halfway at your stomach where she had a good enough angle to look up at you. Her blue eyes locked onto your heavy, tired ones—and for a moment—she’d forgotten all about her idea.

Cassie rested her chin against your stomach, peering up at you. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her voice now softer than it was just a second ago as her thumbs drew comforting circles into your sides. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

God, the things she did to you even when you felt like your body was actively dying. You were hot and cold at the same time, sweating, probably one wrong breath away from coughing up a storm, and your head felt like it was going to claw its way out of your skull.

Yet, despite all that—you weren’t exactly opposed to the idea of having Cassie touch you right now.

Not with the way she was looking at you with those soft blue eyes as if you were the center of her universe, and not with the way she turned you on so embarrassingly quickly just with a few caresses and the sight of her looking up at you from below like that.

You shook your head, your hand coming down to brush her bangs that desperately needed a trim away from her face. “I want you. Please.”

Cassie smiled softly. “Well,” she started, continuing to move lower down your stomach, nipping gently at the exposed skin and soothing it with her tongue. “I can’t say no when you ask like that, can I?”

You huffed. “Better not. You’re the one who started this, remember?”

She finally settled between your legs. “You’re right,” she said, and as if to apologize, pressed kisses all across both of your thighs. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Focusing back on the task at hand, she was now face to face with your panty covered core. You’d lazily kicked off the pants you’d been wearing at some point during your tossing and turning, the fabric only amplifying the heat of your fever.

Cassie wasn’t complaining, it made her job easier now as her fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. You used what little strength you had to lift your hips and she slid them down your legs, tossing them randomly on the floor.

She rested between your thighs and your breath hitched when she ran her fingers through your folds, slick collecting around them. To her genuine shock, you were really wet. Not that she didn’t know if you were actually turned on or not, she just wasn’t sure how your body would react while being so sick.

“Fuck, babygirl.” she murmured. “Guess you really needed this, huh?”

The tips of her fingers grazed your entrance, dipping in slightly and pulling out before you could even really feel it. She circled your clit, spreading your wetness and repeating the same action.

After another minute of her teasing, you huffed. Growing frustrated, you took matters into your own hands, your fingers lacing through her hair. You tugged, and pulled her into you, her mouth instantly latching onto your cunt.

A breathy moan fell from your lips at the feeling of her tongue on you, and Cassie couldn’t help but grin into you.

“Bossy even when you’re sick?” she chuckled, her words slightly muffled with the way her mouth was currently busy.

“You said you were helping me feel better.”

“I was getting there. Patience, yeah?” she scolded teasingly, but gave in anyway.

Two fingers prodded at your opening before pushing inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, and your eyes fell shut when her lips attached to your bundle of nerves at the same time.

She fell into a steady rhythm instantly.

Her fingers curled up into you with each thrust, her tongue toying with your clit at the same time. Cassie had always been good at multitasking—her job in the ER demanded it constantly. She fucked you slow, yet deep, burying her fingers to the hilt each time she pushed in.

She didn’t want to overwhelm you, especially given your current state.

“F-fuck, Cass,” you whined out, letting your head fall back.

Cassie looked up at you from her position between your thighs, smiling as she curled her fingers again. A groan escaped her throat when your grip on her hair tightened from her efforts.

“Good?” she spoke against you.

You gave a quick nod. “Mhm…”

She brushed a particularly good spot, and your hips bucked up involuntarily, a louder moan slipping from your lips.

“Yeah?” Cassie focused on finding that spot again, and couldn’t help the smug grin tugging at her lips from the pure blissed out expression on your face when she hit it again.

“Right there, babygirl?” the vibrations of her voice carrying through your clit, only adding to the pleasure she was pulling out of you.

“God, y-yes. Cassie, please. Don’t stop.”

You were close, and she knew it.

The subtle trembling of your thighs, the way you pressed your head back against the pillows, the vice-like grip you had on her dark red hair as if you were afraid she’d pull away.

Suddenly, you felt her mouth detach from your clit.

An annoyed whine fell from your lips, but she didn’t leave you waiting for long when her thumb quickly replaced it, rubbing firm circles into the sensitive bundle. Cassie crawled back up your body to hover over you, her free forearm resting next to your head to hold herself up.

“You’re so cute like this, you know?” she whispered into your ear, her teeth grazing the shell of it. “Just absolutely stunning. My beautiful girl.”

She felt you flutter around her fingers and your hands came up to clutch her shirt. You gasped when she hit your g-spot again. “Cass, I-I’m—”

“Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

One more perfectly angled thrust and your mouth dropped into a silent scream, back arching off the bed into her as your orgasm washed through your body. Your thighs squeezed tight around her hand, but she tried her best to fuck you through it.

It took a few moments, but once it passed you slumped back into the bed, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. Cassie kissed a line under your jaw as her fingers slowed to a stop, allowing you to come down.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, baby.” she murmured against your neck.

After a minute, your thighs finally released her hand and she took that as her sign to pull out. Her other hand came up to gently brush away the hair stuck to your forehead, coaxing you out of your post-orgasm daze.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You with me?”

You stared at her for a second before lightly shoving her shoulder, huffing out a laugh. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

“What?” she exclaimed, grinning at your amusement. “It made you feel at least a little better, didn’t it?”

“I am not answering that question.”

“Oh, come on.” she chuckled. “It was a great idea and you’re not even gonna tell me if it worked?”

You rolled your eyes, but she didn’t miss the smile tugging at your lips. “Ask me again after I take a nap because I don’t think I can stay awake another minute.”

Cassie’s expression softened as her thumb caressed your face. She leaned down to press her lips to yours in a chaste kiss. “I love you. So much.” she whispered into the kiss.

“I love you too, Cass.” you said, and she smiled when you couldn’t fight back a yawn. “But now you’re definitely going to get sick too.”

She shrugged, rolling off of you and settling down in the space next to you. You instantly curled up into her side, your head resting on her chest as her arm came up to wrap around you.

“I’m not complaining as long as you take care of me too.”

She really didn’t need to ask—you’d do anything for her.

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Hey yall, thank you so much for all the support you’ve given me on Port In The Storm! I know some of you are assuming it’s over since all three parts of the main story have been posted, but don’t be sad because I don’t plan for it to go anywhere!

Just like I did with my Soulmates AU, I want to write additional parts that cover ideas I had for Natasha and Reader that didn’t make it into the main story, or things that you guys would want to of them see too! I know my bio says requests are closed, but if there’s something you want to see in this AU, feel free to send it!

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Port In The Storm - Part 3/3

Pairing: Farmer!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After finding you outside her farm in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and skittish, Natasha takes you in and gives you a place to stay. You begin to form an unexpected bond, but you know all good things are never permanent for you. Natasha can only hope you decide to trust her enough to let her in, and you can only hope you’re able to overcome your fear enough to do so.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Light hints at sexual exploitation | Mentions of a parent death and absent father

By the time you’d been staying with Natasha for nearly a month, things had started to feel different. Not in a bad way, but actually the complete opposite.

You weren’t magically healed or fixed, but you were doing a lot better.

The days had fallen into a routine that you hadn’t realized you were slipping into until it was already there. Wake up. Help with whatever needed doing. Try not to hover. Try not to apologize too much. Try not to feel like you were taking up space you hadn’t earned.

Some days were easier than others.

Some mornings you woke up already tired, your body tense before you even opened your eyes. Some nights you laid on the couch staring at the ceiling, listening to the house settle, convinced you heard something that wasn’t there.

You’d had nightmares before.

Small ones.

The kind that made you wake up sweating but unable to remember exactly why.

This one was different.

This one felt too real.

That night, you curled up with your blanket the way you always did, and laid down on the couch with your hands tucked against your chest. The house was quiet. The clock ticked. Insects buzzed softly somewhere outside.

You weren’t thinking about Dreykov when you fell asleep, or Madam B.

You were thinking about how Fanny had climbed halfway into your lap earlier and refused to move, nudging your hand until you pet her. And how when you’d looked up, you’d caught Natasha watching the two of you with something almost unreadable in her expression.

Content, almost soft. It made something in your chest feel strange in a way you’d never experienced before meeting Natasha.

But that was what made it worse.

Because when the dream started, it didn’t feel like a dream at all.

You were on the couch, exactly where you had fallen asleep. The room was dark, moonlight shining in through the windows. Everything looked the way it usually did. Everything looked real.

You were awake, and you knew it.

Then you heard the door creak open. No knock, no sound of the latch being fiddled with as if it was already left unlocked. Your heart dropped instantly as footsteps crossed the floor.

Slow. Familiar. But not Natasha’s.

You tried to sit up, yet you couldn’t move. It was like you were trapped inside your own body.

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway.

Madam B.

She looked exactly the same. Hair pinned back neatly. Dress unwrinkled. Expression pleasant in that way that never meant anything good.

Behind her, just barely visible in the low light, was Dreykov.

He didn’t step inside. He never had to in order to control a room. The authority in his presence was enough to make people obey.

Your heart was pounding so hard you weren’t sure how it didn’t wake you up.

“There you are,” Madam B said, her heels clicking against the wood. “You didn’t think you could just leave, did you? After everything we did for you?”

You shook your head, breath coming shallow and fast.

“I didn’t—I didn’t—”

She reached you in three steps. Her hand came down onto your shoulders, pushing you further into the cushions.

“No,” you whispered. “Please. I didn’t do anything.”

Dreykov loomed behind her, silent, watching. He was always watching.

“We gave you everything.” Madam B said. “And you still owe us.”

She grabbed your wrists, pinned your arms and held you down. Her fingernails were painfully sharp as they dug into your skin.

You started to struggle. Your body moved now, frantic and clumsy, but it didn’t matter. She was stronger than you remembered.

She always was.

“I don’t work anymore,” you cried. “I don’t—I don’t do that anymore—”

“That's enough.” Dreykov said finally as he stepped forward.

Madam B hauled you upright, forcefully yanking you off the couch. Your feet barely had a chance to touch the floor.

“No,” you tried to say, but it came out weak, broken.

You kicked, and twisted, and clawed uselessly at her sleeve. Panic ripped through you so fast it felt like your body was tearing itself apart as she dragged you toward the door.

“No,” you gasped. “Please—please—”

She didn’t even look at you. When she yanked you harder, when your feet left the floor, when your throat locked, you screamed.

And your eyes flew open.

You jerked up, your heart hammering so hard it hurt. Your lungs burned like you hadn’t breathed in minutes. Your hands clawed at the blanket, at the air, at anything you could find.

“No—no—no—no—”

“Hey. Hey. You’re okay.”

You felt gentle hands on your arms. They were warm, grounding.

“Hey, look at me,”

You did.

It was Natasha. Her hair was loose, falling messily around her shoulders. She must have just woken up.

She was kneeling in front of the couch, one hand on your forearm, the other hovering like she wasn’t sure if she should touch you more.

Your vision kept blurring with tears, and the room wouldn’t stop moving. “They were here,” you choked. “They were—”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know.”

Your chest hitched violently. You tried to curl in on yourself, but you couldn’t stop shaking enough to do so.

“I heard you from the kitchen,” she continued. “You were screaming.”

You dragged in a breath that your lungs desperately needed. “They were going to take me back.” you whispered.

Natasha didn’t contradict you. Didn’t tell you it was just a dream, or that it wasn’t real. She just watched you, eyes heavy with something that looked dangerously close to concern, or maybe fear.

For you.

She stood abruptly. “Get your boots.”

You blinked at her. “What?”

“Boots,” she repeated. “Jacket too.”

“It’s—” you glanced toward the dark windows. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know.”

“I—” you swallowed. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“You’re not sleeping right now anyway,” she said, like she knew your mind was still racing. Somehow, she was right. “And I’m not going to let you sit here with your heart trying to break its way out of your chest.”

You hesitated.

Everything in you wanted to just curl up into the couch with your blanket and disappear.

Natasha softened. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll just walk.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere.”

That almost made you laugh, and you didn’t have the chance to say anything else before Natasha was already moving, holding out your boots and jacket she’d grabbed from the front door.

So you took them.

The gravel crunched softly under your boots as you followed her down the path that cut through the edge of the farm. The night air was cold, but it helped. A little. The kind of cold that brought you back down to earth. To reality.

Natasha didn’t try to fill the silence. She walked beside you, not too close, but just enough for you to know she was there. Like she was guarding you but didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed by it.

You were still halfway stuck in the nightmare. Your body had woken up, but your mind hadn’t caught up yet.

Every shadow looked suspicious. Every sound made your shoulders tense. You kept replaying the feeling of their hands on you, of being dragged, of not being able to move.

Fanny padded along beside you, tail low, ears perked like she knew something was wrong.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth. Counting steps. Grounding yourself. Trying not to spiral.

After a few minutes, Natasha finally spoke.

“You don’t have to,” she started. “But do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head immediately. “No. Not really.”

She nodded like she’d expected that. Like she respected your boundaries.

“Okay.”

And she left it there.

That almost made it worse.

Because she didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Didn’t make you feel like you owed her an explanation. She just kept walking, as if she was willing to walk in silence all night if that’s what you needed.

You stared at the ground. You thought about how she’d come running when you screamed. How she hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t asked questions. Hadn’t told you to just go back to sleep. How she was here, right now, walking through the cold with you when she could be warm in her bed.

You swallowed.

You told yourself you didn’t want to burden her. That you were too much.

But the thought didn’t stick the way it used to. Because if she’d wanted you gone, you wouldn’t be here and neither would she.

“My mom died when I was eight,” you said suddenly.

Natasha nearly stopped in her tracks, but she quickly masked her surprise and looked at you, waiting for you to keep going if you wanted.

You hadn’t meant to say it. It just came out.

You stared straight ahead, your heart pounding in your ears.

“She got sick.” you continued, your voice quiet. “She tried to hide it at first. I think she just didn’t want to scare me.”

Your throat tightened at the distant memory. “She got weaker. Then one morning, she just didn’t wake up.

Natasha’s gaze dropped and her jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“I didn’t really know my dad,” you went on. “He was never around. I don’t even remember his face that well. So after she died, I guess I had no one.”

You shrugged as if it was nothing. As if you’d gotten used to being disappointed. To living with the terrible hand of cards life had dealt you.

“I lived on the street for a bit. Stole food. Slept wherever I could.” you hesitated at what came next. “Then Dreykov found me.”

Natasha exhaled slowly through her nose at the name. If she had any idea exactly who that man was and what he had done the day he showed up at her doorstep, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold herself back knowing what she knows now.

“He said he’d take care of me. And he did, I guess. Technically.” you let out a humorless laugh. “It felt like I’d finally been saved.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, but her expression changed. Softened. Saddened. You swallowed, suddenly embarrassed for ever believing that had been true.

“Then when I got older, Madam B said it was time I started earning my keep. Called it work.”

You didn’t look at Natasha.

You couldn’t.

“I didn’t know any better. I just did what I was told to survive.”

Your chest felt too tight, and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes again. There’s no way Natasha would still look at you the same way. Not after everything you’d just dumped on her.

Natasha turned fully toward you.

Her face was tight. Not angry, not crying. Just restrained. And sad. Like she was holding something inside herself so it wouldn’t explode.

“You never had anywhere else to go,” she said.

It wasn’t a question.

You shook your head.

“Until now.”

That was the part that made you break. You hated that it did. “I thought if I ever left, they’d find me. And he almost did.”

Natasha stepped closer. Not touching. Just closer than she was before. “You’re safe here,” she told you.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, that’s what scares me.”

Her eyes softened at the admission. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know how to be safe.” you said. “And I don’t know what happens when I mess it up.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then spoke gently as she carefully chose her words. “You’re not going to be punished for being human.”

The words landed heavier than you expected. You nodded like you understood, but your chest ached in a way that said you didn’t. Not yet.

“And you don’t have to be perfect,” she added. “Not with me.”

You looked at her.

Really looked at her.

She meant it.

And somehow, after everything, that was what finally made your shoulders drop. Not all the way. But enough.

Fanny brushed against your leg and bumped your hand with her head, prompting you to give her a few pets. It probably relaxed you more than it did her.

And for the first time that night, the silence didn’t feel so dangerous to you anymore.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

To your surprise, nothing changed.

That was the strangest part.

After the night you told Natasha everything, after the nightmare, the walk, the words you hadn’t ever planned on saying out loud, you half expected something to shift.

For her to look at you differently. For her to hover too much or distance herself out of disgust. For her to treat you like glass or finally realize you weren’t worth it.

But Natasha didn’t treat you differently.

She still passed you coffee in the mornings without comment. Still asked if you wanted eggs or toast. Still watched Fanny steal your socks and pretended not to notice when you let it happen. Still helped you when you held tools wrong. Still stood too close sometimes without realizing it.

And somehow, that was harder than if she had changed.

It left you unsure what to do with yourself.

About a week after the nightmare, you were outside with Fanny, sitting on the bottom step of the porch while she gnawed on a stick like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sky was bright as could be, and the clouds stretched thin like cotton.

Natasha came out of the barn, wiping her hands on a rag.

She stopped when she saw you.

Not in a dramatic way. She just paused. Like something had suddenly come to her mind.

“You ever ridden a horse?” she asked.

You blinked and shook your head. “No.”

“Want to try?”

You thought about it for a second. Out of all the things she’d taught you about the farm, this would one hundred percent be the most difficult. You didn’t know how to control a horse. But again, you didn’t know how to do any of what you could now before Natasha.

“Sure,” you finally decided.

Immediately you regretted it.

She led you toward the fence line where one of the horses stood, chewing lazily at the pile of hay. The horse lifted her head when Natasha approached, ears flicking.

“This is Willow,” Natasha said, resting a hand against the horse’s neck. Willow immediately leaned into the touch.

You stared at her. “She’s huge.”

“She’s a horse.” Natasha replied.

“That does not make me feel any better.”

Natasha smirked faintly, running her hand down Willow’s neck in a slow, comforting motion. The horse snorted softly, clearly pleased with the attention. You watched the way Natasha handled her. Gentle but sure, like she trusted the animal completely.

“She won’t hurt you,” Natasha assured. “She’s the calmest one I’ve got. If she were any more relaxed, she’d be on the ground.”

Willow flicked her tail at the praise.

Fanny, apparently deciding this was her moment, trotted over and sniffed Willow’s leg like she was inspecting her. Then she sneezed when a piece of the horse's fur snuck up her nose.

Willow lowered her head and snorted in Fanny’s face.

Fanny barked, obviously offended.

You laughed before you could stop yourself. Natasha’s gaze found you. Just a quick look. But it lingered longer than she meant for it to.

“See?” she said. “Even Fanny likes her.”

You eyed Willow again. Then Natasha. Then Willow.

“Okay,” you said. “But if I die, this is your fault.”

Natasha’s mouth curled upward. “Noted.”

She showed you how to stand beside the saddle, how to place your foot in the stirrup. Her voice was calm, and patient. She didn’t rush you at all.

“Put your weight here,” she explained. “Then push up.”

You tried.

And you barely made it off the ground before embarrassingly wobbling back down, but you expected that.

“I hate this,” you muttered.

Natasha’s hands found her hips as she forced herself to look at the ground, her shoulders trembling as she tried not to snicker.

“You’re laughing,” you accused.

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I absolutely am not.” she cleared her throat to compose herself. “Just try again.”

You did. This time you got a little higher. Then slipped, grabbing onto the saddle in a panic. Fanny barked like she was enjoying watching you struggle.

“Oh my god,” you said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

She barked once more and flopped down in the grass, her chin resting on her paws, settling in to watch the show.

Natasha stepped closer, placing one hand lightly at your waist. “You’ve got it,” she gently encouraged. “Lean into it.”

You suddenly became intensely aware of her hand. Of how close she was. Of how steady her voice sounded. You nodded, even though your brain had stopped functioning momentarily.

You tried again.

This time, you made it.

Barely.

You landed on the saddle awkwardly, stiff as a board. “I’m up,” you exclaimed, like you didn’t quite believe it.

Natasha looked up at you, her eyes softening. “Yeah,” she said. “You are.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest stupidly, and all you could do was swallow nervously.

You adjusted your grip on the reins, unsure what to do with your legs, your hands, your entire body. Your posture felt wrong. Too stiff. Willow shifted beneath you, and you froze, deciding it was probably best to sit still like a mannequin instead of an actual person.

“I don’t think she likes me.” you murmered.

Natasha huffed a small laugh. “She likes you just fine. You’re just…very tense.”

“Well, I’m sitting on a living animal.” you said like it was obvious. “That feels like something I should be tense about.”

She stepped closer, resting a hand on Willow, the other brushing briefly against your calf as she adjusted your foot in the stirrup. The contact was quick. Still, it sent a strange, warm jolt through you.

“Relax,” she told you gently. “She can feel everything.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Right. That just makes it more likely I’ll fall and break a leg.”

She smiled at that, just a little, like she was trying not to laugh. You glanced down at her, suddenly very aware of how high up you were, and how close she was. Close enough that if you leaned the wrong way, you’d probably tip straight into her.

“I feel ridiculous,” you admitted.

“You look fine.”

You squinted at her. “You’re lying.”

She shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

You huffed, and Willow flicked her ear back like she was listening. Remember what Natasha had said to do, you exhaled, trying to let the tension drain out of you. Willow took a few slow steps forward, testing you. You wobbled instantly.

Natasha immediately followed Willow’s movement, one hand hovering near your knee, not quite touching.

“You’re okay,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

Willow sighed softly, her ears twitching.

Just when you were starting to think maybe you can do this, something bursted out from the brush nearby. A bird, probably. You never saw it.

But Willow did.

She startled, jumping sideways with a sharp grunt.

You yelped as your balance vanished instantly. Your hands slipped, your body leaned, and gravity pulled you sideways with her.

And then suddenly you weren’t falling.

Natasha reacted fast, her arms wrapped around you and pulled you free of the saddle, bracing your weight against her as your feet just barely touched down. One second you were sure you were about to eat dirt, and the next, you were pressed against her, her grip firm and steady.

You clung to her without thinking, your hands gripping instinctively at her jacket. A part of you was shocked at how safe you felt, half in her arms, despite falling off a horse a second ago.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice low.

You nodded, breath uneven. “Yeah. I think. That was—”

“Unexpected,” she finished.

“Terrifying.”

She gave a quiet huff of amusement.

Willow stood calmly now, blinking slowly, ears flicking like she hadn’t just nearly paralyzed you. Fanny trotted over, sniffed your boots, then licked your hand like she was checking to make sure you were okay.

After that, she sat down and glanced between you and Natasha, her head tilted. The look made you painfully aware of the fact that you were still in Natasha’s arms.

You shifted, finally pulling back just enough to breathe normally again. “Did you see that?” you asked Fanny, pointing at the horse. “I almost died.”

Fanny simply wagged her tail.

You turned to Natasha, then added, “And before you say anything, I told you. If I died, it was going to be your fault.”

Natasha shook her head, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you were so sure Willow was the calmest horse you had.”

Natasha’s grin grew even more despite herself. “She is the calmest horse I have.” she said. “You’re just dramatic.”

“Rude.” you muttered, but the corners of your lips pulled upwards anyway.

She lingered there for a second longer than necessary, like she was making sure you were actually okay, like she wasn’t quite ready to step away yet. And when she finally did, you felt it again. That unfamiliar, stupid little absence in your chest.

You told yourself it was just leftover adrenaline. That was the only logical explanation.

But the way your pulse still felt uneven, the way you kept catching her looking at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention as she adjusted the saddle on Willow, didn’t feel logical.

It felt like something else was there.

And for once, you didn’t feel the need to run from it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You were kneeling in the chicken pen, collecting the good, edible eggs when Natasha appeared. Her boots half untied, hair braided back as usual, holding two fishing rods like a lightbulb had suddenly gone off in her head in the middle of preparing lunch.

“Do you want to go fishing?” she asked.

You blinked up at her. “You fish?”

She gave you an unimpressed look. “I live on a farm.”

“That does not automatically mean you fish.”

“Come on,” she pleaded. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you’d like it.”

You let out a sigh, setting down the basket of eggs. “Right now?”

She shrugged. “We’re both awake. The creek is probably calm today. Seems like a good enough reason.”

You considered it.

You didn’t know anything about fishing. Not even the basics. You didn’t know how to hold the rod or how to tell if a fish was actually biting or if it was just water doing what water does.

But she was standing there, sunlight catching in her hair, looking at you like she wasn’t expecting anything from you despite her obvious excitement for teaching you to fish.

“Sure, why not.”

Her mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile.

The creek sat just behind the house, winding through a thin line of trees that hid it from anyone who wasn’t looking for it. The water was clear enough that you could see the smooth stones beneath the surface, worn down by years of gentle movement.

Sunlight filtered through the branches, reflecting off the water in certain areas. It smelled like wet earth and something faintly sweet.

Natasha walked a few steps ahead of you, carrying both fishing rods. She had a small tin of bait tucked under her arm, and every now and then she glanced back to make sure you were still following.

Fanny trotted between you, nose to the ground, tail wagging lazily as she investigated every stick, every leaf, every insect.

“So,” you said after a moment, squinting at the water. “What if I’m really bad at this?”

Natasha glanced at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You probably will be.”

“Wow.” you said, though you smiled anyway.

She shrugged, but there was something warm in her eyes. “The chickens scared you. You were bad at chopping wood. You fell off Willow multiple times. But you made it through all of them.”

“I almost had a heart attack each time.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re very dramatic, you know?”

You huffed, but you were still smiling.

She stopped near a bend in the creek where the water slowed and deepened slightly. The surface rippled gently, sunlight flashing across it.

“This is a good spot,” she decided.

You eyed the water suspiciously. “Do the fish know that?”

She handed you one of the rods. “Well, we’re about to find out.”

You took it carefully, like you were still unsure of this whole thing.

She knelt beside you, setting the tin down on a flat rock. “Okay. First rule. Patience.”

You stared at her. “I already don’t like this.”

She chuckled and began attaching the bait to the hook with quick, practiced fingers. “You don’t need to yank. You don’t panic. You let the line do the work.”

You nodded along even though you knew you were probably going to end up doing the opposite.

She showed you how to cast, stepping behind you just slightly to guide you. She demonstrated once. It was smooth and controlled. She made it look easy.

Then she handed the rod back to you.

“Your turn.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, then swung. And way too far. The hook whipped backwards and snagged onto a low branch behind you.

Fanny barked and ran over to the tree, jumping at the branch as if she was trying to retrieve the hook for you.

Natasha froze and slowly turned.

You closed your eyes. “Don’t say it.”

She bit her lip to stifle her laugh, but failed.

“Oh my god,” you muttered.

She reached over, carefully freeing the line. “Okay. Try again. Maybe a little less…enthusiasm this time.”

“I was just trying to be confident with it.”

“You were violent.” she adjusted your grip on the rod, her fingers briefly brushing yours. It was accidental, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Looser,” she said quietly. “You’re gripping it like it’s going to fly out your hands.”

“I guarantee there’s an extremely high chance it will at some point.”

She snorted at that.

You tried again. This time, the line sailed out over the water, landing with a soft splash, and you looked back at her like you’d just performed a miracle.

Her gaze on you was warm and fond. “See?” she said. “You’re learning.”

Your chest warmed stupidly, again. You stood there, watching the line bob gently on the surface as the quiet stretched.

You didn’t get a bite for a while. You shifted your weight to one foot, then shifted it back. Tried to fan yourself with your hand. Stared at the water as if you expected something magical to happen.

“How long is this supposed to take?” you asked.

Natasha shrugged, leaning against a tree. “Minutes. Sometimes hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “Hours?!”

She smirked. “That’s fishing.”

You sighed and then looked back at the line. Fanny appeared beside you, sticking her nose experimentally near the water, and then suddenly snapping at it.

“See?” you said. “Even Fanny doesn’t like this.”

“She’s chasing her reflection.” Natasha deadpanned.

You watched the dog as she trotted along the creek, occasionally biting at the water when it splashed her too roughly. It made you snort aloud.

A few minutes passed before Natasha spoke up again.

“You’ve got one.” she said.

You blinked as if you’d zoned out. “What?”

“You’ve got one right now.”

You had completely missed the tug. You panicked and yanked, too hard. The line snapped upward, the hook coming up empty.

You stared at it. “I—”

Natasha bit her lip again, a grin tugging at her lips. “That one’s on you.”

“I didn’t even feel it!”

She chuckled. “They’re sneaky sometimes.”

You huffed and casted again. This time, you felt it when the fish took the bait. The line pulled tight and you eyes widened as you began to reel.

“Natasha—Natasha—Natasha.”

“Easy, slow down.”

You reeled, too aggressively, again. The fish surfaced, flopping around in the air, and then slipped free from the hook. You scoffed loudly, raising your hands in disbelief.

Fanny barked like she was mocking you.

Natasha laughed as you stared at the water in betrayal.

“That was rude.”

“I think you scared it.” she said.

“I was excited!”

She huffed a chuckle, attaching another piece of bait for you. “I could tell.”

You tried again. By the third time, you were doing a lot better. Your movements were slower. More careful. More patient. And when you felt the line jerk, harder this time, you tried to follow her instructions.

“Oh—oh—Natasha,” you called out. “I’ve got another one.”

She straightened and came to your side instantly. “Easy. Reel it in, slow.”

You tried. You really did. But when the rod bent sharply, your balance faltered, and your boots slipped on the muddy bank. You shrieked.

“Wait—don’t—”

She was too late.

Your foot flew out from under you and you went down with a splash, cold water soaking you instantly as you landed on your back in the creek.

You gasped, half laughing, half shocked.

Then you heard Natasha’s laugh despite her clear attempts at restraining herself. “Oh my god.” she said, breathless as she came to the edge of the water. “Are you okay?”

You sat up, water dripping from your hair, eyes narrowing. “Oh, so you think this is funny?”

She bit her lip, trying to stop the smirk tugging at her mouth.

That sealed her fate.

You grabbed her wrist and pulled. She had just enough time to yelp before she went in with you, face first, water soaking her pants as she landed beside you with a splash.

Natasha looked up, sputtering water from her mouth, brushing back the hair that came loose from her braid and stuck to her face. She stared at you in shock. You stared back, already grinning at the sight of her in the same predicament as you.

Both of you then bursted out into giggles.

Fanny lost her mind. The dog barked eagerly from the bank, tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggled, sprinting back and forth like she couldn’t decide who to rescue first.

“You’re a menace.” Natasha said, sitting up from where she laid on her stomach in the water.

“You laughed at me.” you shot back. “That’s on you.”

She shook her head, still chuckling. Her eyes then began to rake over your body, as if she hadn’t forgotten the way you’d tumbled in just a minute before despite your laughter at it.

“You alright?” she asked again, quieter this time.

You nodded.

Something about the way she was looking at you in that moment made your chest feel too full. Her concern softening into admiration, water dripping from her lashes, sleeves rolled up, entirely focused on you.

You swallowed, realizing how close to you she was sitting. For some reason you didn’t think. You leaned in and kissed her before your brain even had the chance to catch up.

It was quick. Soft and gentle. More like a question than anything else.

Natasha froze, but only for a split second before she was kissing you back. Her lips moved with more certainty than yours, and her hand came up to rest lightly at your cheek.

Then reality suddenly hit you all at once.

You pulled back fast, your heart racing. “Oh god—I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I—”

She didn’t let you finish. Her lips were back on yours the moment she understood your panic. Natasha reached out, steadying you again as she kissed you slowly, with more intention than the first one. Her hand was warm against your jaw.

You froze. Then melted instantly.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours. “You don’t have to apologize for that.” she murmured. “Not ever.”

Your breath shook. “I just—” you started, but struggled to find the words.

“I know.” she reassured gently.

“I don’t know how to do this.” you whispered. “I don’t know how to…feel this. Or be with someone. Or—”

“Then we figure it out.” her thumb brushed your cheek gently. “Together.”

You leaned in again and you didn’t want to have to pull away. The creek kept flowing around you. The world stayed exactly the same.

But something between you didn’t.

And for the first time, change somehow didn’t scare you.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Port In The Storm - Part 2/3

Pairing: Farmer!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After finding you outside her farm in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and skittish, Natasha takes you in and gives you a place to stay. You begin to form an unexpected bond, but you know all good things are never permanent for you. Natasha can only hope you decide to trust her enough to let her in, and you can only hope you’re able to overcome your fear enough to do so.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Light hints at sexual exploitation | Physical violence | Bruises

It had been over a week.

Ten days since the farm had gone quiet in a way Natasha didn’t known how to name despite only housing you for less than a day. Ten mornings of folded blankets left untouched on the couch. Ten nights where Fanny still lifted her head at the door like she expected someone to come back through it.

Natasha hadn’t gone looking.

She told herself it was out of respect. That you had made your choice. That chasing you down would’ve turned kindness into something else entirely. Still, the thought of you had stubbornly settled in.

Town came into view just before midday, dust kicking up beneath the wagon as Natasha guided the horse down the stretch of road. The air smelled different here. It was heavier, crowded with smoke and people. She didn’t stay long in town unless she had to.

Today, she had to.

She stopped near the produce stall tucked between the general store and the blacksmith, where crates were already stacked high with early harvest goods. The man waiting there was broad shouldered and sunburnt, hat tipped back on his head as he wiped his hands on his trousers.

“Romanoff,” he greeted easily. “Right on time.”

“You know I always am,” Natasha replied, hopping down from the wagon with practiced ease. “Crops held up better than I expected after the storm.”

He peeked into the crates as she began unloading, inspecting the bundled greens, the sacks of grain, the crates of apples. He picked one up, turning it over in his hand.

“Good color,” he observed. “You’ve got good soil out there. Nice and quiet land.”

“And that’s the way I like it,” Natasha chuckled lightly.

He snorted. “Well you can’t argue with that.”

They worked in easy silence for a few minutes, the transaction routine. When everything was accounted for, the man reached into his pocket and counted out the payment, pressing the bills into her palm.

“Price still fair?” he asked.

“It’ll do,” Natasha said, tucking the money away.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded toward the road. “You don’t stay long when you come through.”

“Well there’s not much reason to.” she replied honestly. “Everything I need is back at the farm.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged.

She climb into the wagon again, clicking her tongue to set the horse moving. As she turned down the main stretch of town, she felt that sense of being watched, assessed. The town always had a way of doing that.

Which is why she meant to leave straight away.

But as she passed the general store, she remembered the nearly empty tin on her shelf back home. Salt. She’d meant to pick some up last trip and forgot. It wasn’t something she could go without for long, not with winter coming soon.

She slowed the wagon.

“One stop,” she muttered to herself, guiding the horse toward the hitching post.

She tied the reins, gave the horse a reassuring pat, and headed down the street on foot. The usual commotion of the town pressed in around her. Laughter spilling from doorways, boots scuffing, the clink of glasses and coins.

She kept her eyes trained forward.

The general store was just past the saloon.

The Red Room.

Natasha didn’t look at it as she passed. She didn’t need to. The place carried a weight she could feel even without meeting its windows. The low hum of music bleeding through the walls, the laughter pitched just a little too loud to be genuine.

She was almost past it when she heard the voice from the alley beside the saloon.

Harsh. Cutting. Sharp enough to slice through the noise of the street. Not loud enough to draw a crowd, but enough to be heard by someone who knew how to listen.

Natasha slowed. She hadn’t meant to stop. She had no reason to. But something about the tone snagged her attention.

Then she heard it.

You.

The desperate apologies. The way someone spoke at you, and the way you didn’t have the courage to say anything remotely disrespectful back in return.

Natasha turned toward the alley, and then the sound cut through the space, unmistakable in its harshness.

A slap, and her hand curled into a fist before she’d consciously make the decision to move.

~ ~

The man smelled like whiskey and smoke.

You noticed it the moment you stepped up to him from behind the counter, the sharp sting of alcohol layered over sweat and tobacco. He was already watching you too closely, gaze sliding over you like you were something to be assessed rather than addressed.

“Didn’t think I’d get you today,” he said, lips curling into something that might’ve been a smile. “Thought Madam B kept her favorites busy.”

You forced your expression to display politeness. You’d learned that trick early on. Smile without warmth. Keep your eyes blank. Don’t give them anything they could claim later.

“Afternoon,” you greeted. “What’ll you have?”

He ordered without looking at the board. He didn’t need to. He’d been there often enough to know exactly what he wanted. While you poured the drink, his hand settled on the bar, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm that grew louder the longer you took.

When you slid the glass toward him, his fingers brushed yours. Lingering.

“Back room,” he instructed, already pushing off the stool. “Madam B said you were available.”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t been made aware of that. Hadn’t agreed to it.

You’d dealt with this man before.

He was rough. Unkind.

And you didn’t think you could handle that today.

Your eyes flicked instinctively toward the far end of the bar where Madam B stood, counting coins with her back turned, seemingly relaxed and unconcerned with anything happening around her.

The man leaned in closer. Close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Don’t make this difficult.”

You swallowed.

“I can’t.” you whispered.

The words were soft. Almost swallowed by the noise of the room, the clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, the just barely out of tune piano. For a second, you thought maybe it would pass. Maybe he wouldn’t hear it.

He did.

His brow creased. “The hell you mean you can’t?”

“I just…I can’t,” you repeated, steadier this time. “Not today.”

The man laughed under his breath, like you’d just told a joke he didn’t find particularly funny. “You’re funny,” he said. “Madam B don’t pay you to be funny.”

“I know,” you replied. Your hands curled behind the bar, fingers digging into the wood to keep them from shaking. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t…right now.”

That was when his expression shifted. Not anger yet. Something colder. Appraisal.

“Then get someone else,” he snapped. “Or get Madam.”

“I will,” you said quickly. “I’ll get her.”

You stepped around the counter, relief flickering faintly in your chest despite knowing you weren’t out of the woods just yet. Madam B was there before you could take two steps.

“What seems to be the problem?” she asked pleasantly, her voice smooth as polished glass.

The man scoffed. “Your girl here thinks she gets to say no.”

Madam B’s eyes landed on you. The pleasant curve of her mouth didn’t move, but something behind her eyes hardened.

“Is that so?” she wondered.

You nodded once. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I just can’t take him today.”

Madam B only smiled wider. “Of course you can,” she said, tone light, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You must be confused, darling.”

“I’m not.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. The silence that followed was brief but absolute.

Madam B’s hand closed around your arm. “Come with me,” she demanded, her smile still lingering, uneasy. “We’ll get this sorted out right away.”

Her grip tightened as she steered you toward the back door, nails pressing hard enough to draw blood. You didn’t resist. You knew better than that. The room swallowed you whole, noise rushing back in as the door swung shut behind you.

The back corridor smelled like old smoke and something else unpleasant.

Madam B didn’t stop until you were outside, the door slamming open into the narrow alley behind the saloon. The music dulled instantly, replaced by the distant hum of the street and the drip of water from the gutter.

Madam B released you only to shove you back against the brick wall.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” she asked, the charming act gone now, voice sharp and low. “You don’t get to decide who you take.”

“I wasn’t trying to decide,” you explained. “I just—I couldn’t with him today. I can take someone else. I can work longer—”

Madam B laughed. Short and humorless. “You’ve embarrassed me,” she snapped. “In front of a paying client.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Intent doesn’t matter,” Madam B cut in. “Perception does.”

She stepped closer until there was nowhere left for you to retreat. “People don’t come here to be told no. They come here because they expect compliance. And you—” her finger jabbed sharply into your chest, “—are not special enough to forget that.”

Your jaw tightened. Your eyes burned, but you refused to let the tears fall. You stared at the brick just over Madam B’s shoulder.

Madam B’s gaze narrowed at the lack of reaction.

The slap came fast.

Your head snapped to the side, the sting blooming hot across your cheek as you stumbled further into the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, a sharp gasp tearing free before you could stop it.

“There,” Madam B said contently. “That’s what it takes to make you remember?”

She leaned in close, voice dropping to a low hiss. “You don’t refuse clients. Ever. And if you try it again, I won’t be the one correcting you.”

Madam B barely had time to straighten before someone grabbed her.

The force came from behind. Firm and unyielding. Fingers locked onto her shoulder and hauled her back, hard enough that her spine met the brick wall with a dull, jarring thud. The air left her lungs in a sharp burst as a solid forearm came up and pressed across her throat, pinning her there.

Natasha stood in front of her.

Her expression wasn’t fuming. It wasn’t furious. It was cold and calm. That was probably the most chilling part.

“Who the hell do you think you are,” Natasha’s voice was low. “Putting your hands on her like that.”

Madam B’s surprise flickered into anger almost immediately. She scoffed, her chin lifting despite the arm at her neck. “This matter doesn’t concern you.”

She glanced briefly over her shoulder, tracking where you stood pressed against the wall a few steps away just to check on you. One hand hovered near your cheek like you weren’t sure you should touch the sting blooming there yet.

Your eyes were wide, glassy. Not crying, not yet, but stunned, shaken in that quiet way Natasha recognized immediately from the night she took you in from the storm.

“It does now.” her forearm pressed harder, just enough to make Madam B’s breath catch. “You don’t touch her again.”

Madam B only laughed thinly. “What? You think you can just take her?” her eyes flicked to where you stood just behind Natasha, calculating. “She’s not going anywhere until she makes back every penny she owes.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched tighter.

She eased the pressure just enough to free one hand, reaching into her coat and pulling out a thick fold of bills, edges worn soft from use. She didn’t count it. Didn’t hesitate. Just shoved it into Madam B’s chest, the force of it knocking the breath from her again.

“That’s enough,” Natasha said. “And if it isn’t then you can figure out another way to make your money because she’s done.”

Madam B’s eyes dropped despite herself and her fingers curled around the cash. Natasha didn’t give her more time to change her mind.

She stepped back, releasing her grip fully, already turning away like the decision had been made the moment she’d heard your voice in the alley.

Madam B slumped along the wall, coughing once, glaring, but she didn’t follow.

Natasha crossed the short distance to you in three strides. Up close, the red mark on your cheek stood out starkly against your skin. You looked at her like you weren’t quite sure this was real, like the rug might be pulled out from under you any second.

She reached out slowly, and took your hand. Her grip was firm, grounding as she guided you out of the alley and into the open street.

You stumbled once, breath hitching as reality finally caught up with you, and Natasha slowed instantly. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, panic seeping through now that the moment had passed. “I can’t just leave. I can’t—he’ll—”

Natasha stopped.

She turned fully toward you, hands settling on your shoulders. Your breath stuttered, but you didn’t pull away. If anything, you leaned into her, just an inch, like your body trusted Natasha even while your mind scrambled for reasons not to.

“Look at me,” Natasha said gently.

You did.

Your eyes were wet now, fear and guilt and disbelief all tangled together. The faint red mark on your cheek made something ache in Natasha’s chest.

“Do you want to stay here?” she asked.

The question was simple, but it still made you swallow nervously. Your eyes traveled back toward the alley, then returned to Natasha. You shook your head.

“No.”

That was enough for her.

Natasha nodded once, something inside her settling into place. “Then come back with me,” she said.

You didn’t answer right away.

The word hovered just behind your teeth, held back by habit, by fear, by the quiet voice that told you taking things offered never came without a cost.

Natasha didn’t rush you. She didn’t push, didn’t try to coax you. She simply waited.

Finally, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Okay.”

Natasha nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Come on.”

The wagon waited where Natasha had left it. She climbed up first, checking the seat, adjusting the blanket she’d left there. Then she turned and offered her hand.

You hesitated only a moment before taking it.

Natasha’s grip was steady enough that you didn’t have to scramble. She helped you up, made sure you were settled, adjusting the blanket without asking, tugging it around your legs.

“I’ve got one more stop,” Natasha said as she took the reins. “Won’t take long.”

You nodded, your eyes locked onto the street ahead. “Okay.”

The stop was quick. In and out. A few coins exchanged, a sack tossed into the back of the wagon. Natasha didn’t stay long, only having a brief conversation with the shopkeeper. She climbed back up, clicked her tongue, and the wagon rolled forward.

The noise of town began to fade slowly as the wagon rolled on.

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been holding yourself until that moment. Your shoulders dropped, just a little. Your hands loosened in your lap. The knot in your chest didn’t disappear, but it stopped clawing for your attention.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

Natasha kept her eyes on the road, posture easy but alert, one hand resting loose on the reins. She didn’t look over at you, didn’t try to fill the quiet. She just let you breathe, for probably the first real time since you left the farm.

You watched the buildings slip away behind you. Each mile you put between yourself and the town felt like pressure easing off your lungs.

The wagon creaked softly beneath you.

Then Natasha spoke.

“Who was she?” the question landed gently, her curiosity mixed with concern.

She didn’t mean to pressure you, but you stiffened anyway.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt. Your eyes staring straight ahead, fixed on nothing in particular, mouth opening once before closing again.

“Madam B,” you said finally. “Dreykov owns the place, but she keeps track of all the girls. Who owes what. Who takes each client.”

Natasha nodded, slowly. Her eyes still focused forward.

She didn’t push. Didn’t ask what had set the woman off, didn’t ask what had happened before she walked into that alley. She already had a decent idea, and if you wanted to fill in the gaps, you would.

The wagon rolled on, the sound of the wheels filling the silence. After a few more minutes, you shifted beside her and drew a breath that shook despite your effort to steady it.

“Why did you do that for me?” you asked, your voice softer this time.

Natasha was quiet for a moment longer than necessary. She adjusted the reins again, mostly to give her hands something to do.

“I didn’t really think about it,” she answered.

That wasn’t entirely true. Of course she’d thought about it. The money. The risk. But none of that was what mattered in that moment, and she wasn’t about to put the weight of it on you.

“You were cornered,” she continued. “And she was hurting you.” she paused for a brief second. “That’s where I stopped weighing my options.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. You’d never had anyone step in like that before. Not for someone like you. Your gaze drifted over despite yourself, landing on Natasha’s profile.

“You didn’t have to.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose. She knew that. She just didn’t know how you expected her to see you like that, and keep walking. To let it be your problem to handle alone.

Another stretch of road passed beneath you.

“I’ve been around people like her,” Natasha said. “They don’t stop unless someone makes them.” she looked at you this time, just long enough to meet your eyes. “And I wasn’t going to leave you there.”

Natasha’s voice softened without her meaning for it to, and something else in her chest softened even more. “You trusted me enough to come back,” she reminded you. “That has to count for something, right?”

You looked down at your hands, fingers curled loosely in your lap. You hadn’t even realized you’d trusted Natasha until now. It had just happened, the way you lean toward warmth without thinking when you’re cold for too long.

The wagon rolled on, the space between you light as the ride back to the farm continued. Quiet in a way that made you feel a type of security you hadn’t felt in a while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A week had passed since Natasha brought you back.

It was quieter than town had ever been. Not just less noise, but less tension. No voices raised through thin walls. No footsteps outside your door at odd hours. No waiting for something to go wrong. The days played out gently, almost predictably. Cool air in the mornings, warm light creeping across the fields, the low, steady sounds of the farm waking up around you.

It should’ve been comforting.

Instead, it felt strange. Almost unsettling. Like your body hadn’t yet learned that it didn’t need to be on guard all the time.

You’d expected to feel like a guest. Or a burden.

Someone only temporarily tolerated. But Natasha moved around you like your presence made sense here, like there was nothing unusual about another chair pulled up to the table or another pair of boots by the door. She didn’t hover, didn’t watch you like you might disappear again.

She just adjusted. Made space for you.

But still, the guilt lingered.

So you asked for one thing.

To help.

You didn’t want to just exist in her space. Didn’t want to feel like something she’d picked up and set down out of obligation. You wanted to earn it. Wanted your hands to be useful, your presence justified. Wanted to feel like you weren’t someone she’d just rescued, but someone who belonged here because they worked for it.

Natasha hadn’t argued. She’d studied you for a long moment, quiet and unreadable, then nodded once.

“Alright,” she’d said simply. “We’ll start small.”

That was how you ended up standing in the dirt behind the house with a metal bucket held in your palms, staring down a cluster of chickens like they were a threat she hadn’t been properly warned you about.

“They’re staring at me,” you said quietly, shoulders tense, eyes flicking between each of them.

Natasha leaned against the fence beside you, arms crossed loosely. “Yeah,” she said. “They tend to do that.”

“They’re judging me.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. “They judge everyone.”

You shifted your weight, the grain inside the bucket rattling softly. “Are you sure they don’t bite?”

“I’m sure,” Natasha said. Then, after a pause just long enough to be suspicious. “Most of the time.”

You shot her a look. “That’s not reassuring.”

She shrugged, unapologetic, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “You’ll survive.”

You took a cautious step forward. Instantly, the chickens surged closer, feathers rustling, bodies pressing toward the fence all at once. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh—oh no,” you murmured. “Why are they moving like that?”

“They know food when they see it.”

“I don’t like how fast they know.”

Natasha pushed off the fence and stepped closer. Close enough that you could feel her presence at your side without her touching you. “Just toss some out,” she instructed calmly. “They’ll focus on that.”

You reached into the bucket, grabbed a small handful, and scattered it. For a moment, nothing happened.

You let out a careful breath. “Okay. Okay, maybe this isn’t so—”

Just before you could finish your sentence, one of the hens launched itself straight toward your chest.

You yelped. Sharp, undignified, and stumbled back, nearly dropping the bucket as wings flapped far too close to your face.

“Nope,” you said immediately. “No. I’m done. I changed my mind.”

Natasha laughed before she could stop herself. It just slipped out, and for a moment it softened everything. She was already moving, one hand catching the bucket before it tipped, the other landing lightly on your arm to steady you.

“Easy,” she said, still smiling. “She’s not trying to hurt you.”

“She flew at me,” you insisted, pointing accusingly at the hen. “That one. That one has intent.”

“That’s Agnes,” Natasha replied. “She can be rude sometimes.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “You named her?”

“She earned it.”

Another chicken flapped too close and you leaned toward Natasha without thinking, your shoulder brushing her arm. The movement was instinctive, happening before you could stop it. And you froze the second you realized what you’d done.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Natasha said immediately, her voice lower now. Her hand stayed on your arm, warm and comforting. “You’re fine.”

She didn’t make a thing of it. Didn’t tease. Didn’t tell you to relax. Just stayed there, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got you,” she added quietly. “I’m watching them.”

Something in your chest eased at that. You nodded, trusting her without stopping to question why it felt so easy with her. Why your body believed her before your mind could catch up.

She showed you again, slower this time. Where to stand. How to scatter the grain wider. How not to let them crowd you.

You followed her lead, movements awkward but determined. When another chicken jumped, you flinched, but you didn’t retreat.

Natasha just watched you with a soft grin. “See?” she said, a hint of quiet pride in her voice. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

You let out a breath that turned into a reluctant laugh. “I feel like I’m losing a fight I didn’t agree to.”

“That’s the farm for you,” she chuckled, crossing her arms and taking a step back to let you work.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. And you kept going, Natasha close enough to make you feel safe, yet far enough to let the task feel like yours.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Another week passed, almost without you noticing it.

That alone felt strange.

Back in town, at The Red Rood, time would drag. Each day something to get through rather than live. Here, it slipped by almost effortlessly.

Mornings blurred into afternoons. The routine settled in easily. You still woke up tense sometimes, still caught yourself listening for sounds that never came, but you were adjusting.

You were still careful. Still mindful of yourself. But it didn’t take quite as much effort anymore.

Natasha noticed, even if she didn’t say anything.

That morning, she handed you a pair of gloves without comment and jerked her head toward the chopping block set a little ways from the house.

“Firewood’s getting low,” she explained. “Thought we could take care of it before it gets cold again.”

You nodded instantly. Too quickly for someone who’s never done it before. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

She glanced at you, one eyebrow lifting just slightly. “I should probably show you first.”

“Right,” you said, then added softer as if remembering yourself. “If you don’t mind, please.”

The chopping block was worn smooth in the middle, years of use carved into it. A stack of logs sat beside it. The axe leaned against the stump, heavier looking than you’d expected.

Fanny trotted over the moment you stopped walking, tail wagging like she’d been invited personally. She sniffed at the logs, sneezed, then sat down a little too close to the stump.

Natasha threw her hands out in disbelief. “You’re sitting in exactly the worst possible place right now.”

The dog simply stared at her with a panting smile on her face, choosing to stay put.

Natasha sighed. “You’re going to lose a tail one of these days.”

Fanny tilted her head and whined, clearly unimpressed at the statement.

She demonstrated first. She set the log, raised the axe, and brought it down clean. The log split with a sharp crack.

Your eyes widened despite yourself. “Okay.”

Natasha glanced at you, then back to the stump, her voice softer when she spoke. “Hey. Don’t psych yourself out.” she encouraged, like she was reminding you to breathe. “It doesn’t have to look like that yet.”

“I’m not—” you stopped before you could finish the lie. “I am. I am psyching myself out.”

She stepped aside, handing you the axe handle first. “Just take it slow.”

You wrapped your hands around it. The weight surprised you, dragging your arms down a little.

You swallowed. “This is starting to feel like a bad idea.”

Natasha huffed a quiet laugh and shook her head, amusement soft at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll be fine. Just take it slow.”

“That’s what you said about the chickens.”

“And you lived to talk about it.”

“Barely.”

Natasha couldn’t stop the grin that snuck onto her face before noticing your completely improper positioning when you stepped up to the stump.

“Alright,” she sighed. “The first thing is your stance.” she nudged your foot with the toe of her boot. “Wider. You don’t want to wobble.”

You adjusted accordingly, immediately feeling awkward. “Like this?”

“A little more.” she stepped closer behind you, and gently shifted your shoulders. You froze for half a second, your heart racing from nothing that had to do with the axe in your hands or the log you were about to chop.

“There,” she said and stepped back. “That’s better.”

You lifted the axe, too stiff, too careful, and brought it down. It clipped the edge of the log instead of the center, knocking it off balance. The wood rolled off the stump and hit the ground with a dull thud. You froze, staring at it like it had personally betrayed you.

“Hey,” Natasha said, calm as ever. “That’s normal. Happens all the time.”

You let out a shaky laugh you hadn’t planned on. “Liar.”

This time she smiled, small and warm. “Alright. Maybe not all the time. But you’re doing fine.”

Natasha reset the log for you and stepped back, allowing you to try again. “Remember, feet shoulder width apart. Try putting one hand near the head and one lower down. You don’t want to muscle it, you want to let gravity do the work.”

You nod like you understand. You absolutely do not. You try again. This time the axe bites into the wood, barely, lodging itself there instead of splitting anything. You stared at it for a second, then gave the handle an experimental tug.

Nothing.

The mess up sat there. Stuck, and seemingly unfixable in your racing mind, making your stomach drop.

“Oh.” you muttered. “I broke it.”

You tried again, pulling harder. The log wobbled, the whole stump shifting beneath it, and panic flared hot and immediate in your chest.

Natasha was beside you before you could say anything else. “You’re okay. This happens a lot too.” she reassured, already reaching for the handle.

She braced the stump with her boot, one hand steadying the wood while the other closed over the axe handle above yours. Her grip was firm, practiced.

“Pull straight up,” she directed gently. “Don’t try to fight with it.”

You did as she said and together, you worked it free. The axe came loose and the log toppled onto its side.

You exhaled slowly, stress spilling out of you all at once.

You glanced at her, startled by how close she was, then looked away just as quickly. “I just—sorry,” you said, the apology slipping out on instinct. “I know I’m slowing you down.”

“You’re not,” her response was immediate, like she was sure of it before you even spoke. “And I wouldn’t be here with you if I minded.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You were still getting used to not being corrected for even the most minor mishaps, to being spoken to like you mattered instead of constantly being talked down to.

You reset the log and tried again.

Slower this time. More careful and deliberate. The axe came down, and split the log. Unevenly, sure. But it split nonetheless. You blinked at the wood that now laid on the ground beside the stump, broken into two separate pieces.

“I did it.”

Natasha smiled as she looked at you. Not big or overly exaggerated. But proud and genuine.

“You did.”

Something warm settled in your chest at that. Pride, maybe, from doing it all on your own. Or relief, from not being completely helpless.

You kept going. Missed once. Landed another. Your arms burned, but you didn’t mind. Natasha stayed close, helping you when needed, catching the axe once when it slipped too far sideways.

At one point, Fanny darted in again, snatched a piece of bark, and bolted across the field like she’d stolen something valuable.

“Hey!” you called out, laughing. “That’s not yours!”

Fanny did not care. She skidded to a stop a few yards away, dropped it, then wagged her tail like she expected you to chase after her.

So you did, because who were you to let a dog pick on you like that.

Natasha watched quietly from the stump, arms crossed, axe resting against her leg. Something inside her eased at the sight of you. Laughing, unguarded, distracted, and it did something to her chest she didn’t have the words to describe.

She didn’t realize how much she was hoping to see that until now.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

part 3 tomorrow!

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Port In The Storm - Part 2/3

Pairing: Farmer!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After finding you outside her farm in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and skittish, Natasha takes you in and gives you a place to stay. You begin to form an unexpected bond, but you know all good things are never permanent for you. Natasha can only hope you decide to trust her enough to let her in, and you can only hope you’re able to overcome your fear enough to do so.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Light hints at sexual exploitation | Physical violence | Bruises

It had been over a week.

Ten days since the farm had gone quiet in a way Natasha didn’t known how to name despite only housing you for less than a day. Ten mornings of folded blankets left untouched on the couch. Ten nights where Fanny still lifted her head at the door like she expected someone to come back through it.

Natasha hadn’t gone looking.

She told herself it was out of respect. That you had made your choice. That chasing you down would’ve turned kindness into something else entirely. Still, the thought of you had stubbornly settled in.

Town came into view just before midday, dust kicking up beneath the wagon as Natasha guided the horse down the stretch of road. The air smelled different here. It was heavier, crowded with smoke and people. She didn’t stay long in town unless she had to.

Today, she had to.

She stopped near the produce stall tucked between the general store and the blacksmith, where crates were already stacked high with early harvest goods. The man waiting there was broad shouldered and sunburnt, hat tipped back on his head as he wiped his hands on his trousers.

“Romanoff,” he greeted easily. “Right on time.”

“You know I always am,” Natasha replied, hopping down from the wagon with practiced ease. “Crops held up better than I expected after the storm.”

He peeked into the crates as she began unloading, inspecting the bundled greens, the sacks of grain, the crates of apples. He picked one up, turning it over in his hand.

“Good color,” he observed. “You’ve got good soil out there. Nice and quiet land.”

“And that’s the way I like it,” Natasha chuckled lightly.

He snorted. “Well you can’t argue with that.”

They worked in easy silence for a few minutes, the transaction routine. When everything was accounted for, the man reached into his pocket and counted out the payment, pressing the bills into her palm.

“Price still fair?” he asked.

“It’ll do,” Natasha said, tucking the money away.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded toward the road. “You don’t stay long when you come through.”

“Well there’s not much reason to.” she replied honestly. “Everything I need is back at the farm.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged.

She climb into the wagon again, clicking her tongue to set the horse moving. As she turned down the main stretch of town, she felt that sense of being watched, assessed. The town always had a way of doing that.

Which is why she meant to leave straight away.

But as she passed the general store, she remembered the nearly empty tin on her shelf back home. Salt. She’d meant to pick some up last trip and forgot. It wasn’t something she could go without for long, not with winter coming soon.

She slowed the wagon.

“One stop,” she muttered to herself, guiding the horse toward the hitching post.

She tied the reins, gave the horse a reassuring pat, and headed down the street on foot. The usual commotion of the town pressed in around her. Laughter spilling from doorways, boots scuffing, the clink of glasses and coins.

She kept her eyes trained forward.

The general store was just past the saloon.

The Red Room.

Natasha didn’t look at it as she passed. She didn’t need to. The place carried a weight she could feel even without meeting its windows. The low hum of music bleeding through the walls, the laughter pitched just a little too loud to be genuine.

She was almost past it when she heard the voice from the alley beside the saloon.

Harsh. Cutting. Sharp enough to slice through the noise of the street. Not loud enough to draw a crowd, but enough to be heard by someone who knew how to listen.

Natasha slowed. She hadn’t meant to stop. She had no reason to. But something about the tone snagged her attention.

Then she heard it.

You.

The desperate apologies. The way someone spoke at you, and the way you didn’t have the courage to say anything remotely disrespectful back in return.

Natasha turned toward the alley, and then the sound cut through the space, unmistakable in its harshness.

A slap, and her hand curled into a fist before she’d consciously make the decision to move.

~ ~

The man smelled like whiskey and smoke.

You noticed it the moment you stepped up to him from behind the counter, the sharp sting of alcohol layered over sweat and tobacco. He was already watching you too closely, gaze sliding over you like you were something to be assessed rather than addressed.

“Didn’t think I’d get you today,” he said, lips curling into something that might’ve been a smile. “Thought Madam B kept her favorites busy.”

You forced your expression to display politeness. You’d learned that trick early on. Smile without warmth. Keep your eyes blank. Don’t give them anything they could claim later.

“Afternoon,” you greeted. “What’ll you have?”

He ordered without looking at the board. He didn’t need to. He’d been there often enough to know exactly what he wanted. While you poured the drink, his hand settled on the bar, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm that grew louder the longer you took.

When you slid the glass toward him, his fingers brushed yours. Lingering.

“Back room,” he instructed, already pushing off the stool. “Madam B said you were available.”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t been made aware of that. Hadn’t agreed to it.

You’d dealt with this man before.

He was rough. Unkind.

And you didn’t think you could handle that today.

Your eyes flicked instinctively toward the far end of the bar where Madam B stood, counting coins with her back turned, seemingly relaxed and unconcerned with anything happening around her.

The man leaned in closer. Close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Don’t make this difficult.”

You swallowed.

“I can’t.” you whispered.

The words were soft. Almost swallowed by the noise of the room, the clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, the just barely out of tune piano. For a second, you thought maybe it would pass. Maybe he wouldn’t hear it.

He did.

His brow creased. “The hell you mean you can’t?”

“I just…I can’t,” you repeated, steadier this time. “Not today.”

The man laughed under his breath, like you’d just told a joke he didn’t find particularly funny. “You’re funny,” he said. “Madam B don’t pay you to be funny.”

“I know,” you replied. Your hands curled behind the bar, fingers digging into the wood to keep them from shaking. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t…right now.”

That was when his expression shifted. Not anger yet. Something colder. Appraisal.

“Then get someone else,” he snapped. “Or get Madam.”

“I will,” you said quickly. “I’ll get her.”

You stepped around the counter, relief flickering faintly in your chest despite knowing you weren’t out of the woods just yet. Madam B was there before you could take two steps.

“What seems to be the problem?” she asked pleasantly, her voice smooth as polished glass.

The man scoffed. “Your girl here thinks she gets to say no.”

Madam B’s eyes landed on you. The pleasant curve of her mouth didn’t move, but something behind her eyes hardened.

“Is that so?” she wondered.

You nodded once. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I just can’t take him today.”

Madam B only smiled wider. “Of course you can,” she said, tone light, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You must be confused, darling.”

“I’m not.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. The silence that followed was brief but absolute.

Madam B’s hand closed around your arm. “Come with me,” she demanded, her smile still lingering, uneasy. “We’ll get this sorted out right away.”

Her grip tightened as she steered you toward the back door, nails pressing hard enough to draw blood. You didn’t resist. You knew better than that. The room swallowed you whole, noise rushing back in as the door swung shut behind you.

The back corridor smelled like old smoke and something else unpleasant.

Madam B didn’t stop until you were outside, the door slamming open into the narrow alley behind the saloon. The music dulled instantly, replaced by the distant hum of the street and the drip of water from the gutter.

Madam B released you only to shove you back against the brick wall.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” she asked, the charming act gone now, voice sharp and low. “You don’t get to decide who you take.”

“I wasn’t trying to decide,” you explained. “I just—I couldn’t with him today. I can take someone else. I can work longer—”

Madam B laughed. Short and humorless. “You’ve embarrassed me,” she snapped. “In front of a paying client.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Intent doesn’t matter,” Madam B cut in. “Perception does.”

She stepped closer until there was nowhere left for you to retreat. “People don’t come here to be told no. They come here because they expect compliance. And you—” her finger jabbed sharply into your chest, “—are not special enough to forget that.”

Your jaw tightened. Your eyes burned, but you refused to let the tears fall. You stared at the brick just over Madam B’s shoulder.

Madam B’s gaze narrowed at the lack of reaction.

The slap came fast.

Your head snapped to the side, the sting blooming hot across your cheek as you stumbled further into the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, a sharp gasp tearing free before you could stop it.

“There,” Madam B said contently. “That’s what it takes to make you remember?”

She leaned in close, voice dropping to a low hiss. “You don’t refuse clients. Ever. And if you try it again, I won’t be the one correcting you.”

Madam B barely had time to straighten before someone grabbed her.

The force came from behind. Firm and unyielding. Fingers locked onto her shoulder and hauled her back, hard enough that her spine met the brick wall with a dull, jarring thud. The air left her lungs in a sharp burst as a solid forearm came up and pressed across her throat, pinning her there.

Natasha stood in front of her.

Her expression wasn’t fuming. It wasn’t furious. It was cold and calm. That was probably the most chilling part.

“Who the hell do you think you are,” Natasha’s voice was low. “Putting your hands on her like that.”

Madam B’s surprise flickered into anger almost immediately. She scoffed, her chin lifting despite the arm at her neck. “This matter doesn’t concern you.”

She glanced briefly over her shoulder, tracking where you stood pressed against the wall a few steps away just to check on you. One hand hovered near your cheek like you weren’t sure you should touch the sting blooming there yet.

Your eyes were wide, glassy. Not crying, not yet, but stunned, shaken in that quiet way Natasha recognized immediately from the night she took you in from the storm.

“It does now.” her forearm pressed harder, just enough to make Madam B’s breath catch. “You don’t touch her again.”

Madam B only laughed thinly. “What? You think you can just take her?” her eyes flicked to where you stood just behind Natasha, calculating. “She’s not going anywhere until she makes back every penny she owes.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched tighter.

She eased the pressure just enough to free one hand, reaching into her coat and pulling out a thick fold of bills, edges worn soft from use. She didn’t count it. Didn’t hesitate. Just shoved it into Madam B’s chest, the force of it knocking the breath from her again.

“That’s enough,” Natasha said. “And if it isn’t then you can figure out another way to make your money because she’s done.”

Madam B’s eyes dropped despite herself and her fingers curled around the cash. Natasha didn’t give her more time to change her mind.

She stepped back, releasing her grip fully, already turning away like the decision had been made the moment she’d heard your voice in the alley.

Madam B slumped along the wall, coughing once, glaring, but she didn’t follow.

Natasha crossed the short distance to you in three strides. Up close, the red mark on your cheek stood out starkly against your skin. You looked at her like you weren’t quite sure this was real, like the rug might be pulled out from under you any second.

She reached out slowly, and took your hand. Her grip was firm, grounding as she guided you out of the alley and into the open street.

You stumbled once, breath hitching as reality finally caught up with you, and Natasha slowed instantly. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, panic seeping through now that the moment had passed. “I can’t just leave. I can’t—he’ll—”

Natasha stopped.

She turned fully toward you, hands settling on your shoulders. Your breath stuttered, but you didn’t pull away. If anything, you leaned into her, just an inch, like your body trusted Natasha even while your mind scrambled for reasons not to.

“Look at me,” Natasha said gently.

You did.

Your eyes were wet now, fear and guilt and disbelief all tangled together. The faint red mark on your cheek made something ache in Natasha’s chest.

“Do you want to stay here?” she asked.

The question was simple, but it still made you swallow nervously. Your eyes traveled back toward the alley, then returned to Natasha. You shook your head.

“No.”

That was enough for her.

Natasha nodded once, something inside her settling into place. “Then come back with me,” she said.

You didn’t answer right away.

The word hovered just behind your teeth, held back by habit, by fear, by the quiet voice that told you taking things offered never came without a cost.

Natasha didn’t rush you. She didn’t push, didn’t try to coax you. She simply waited.

Finally, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Okay.”

Natasha nodded. “Alright,” she said. “Come on.”

The wagon waited where Natasha had left it. She climbed up first, checking the seat, adjusting the blanket she’d left there. Then she turned and offered her hand.

You hesitated only a moment before taking it.

Natasha’s grip was steady enough that you didn’t have to scramble. She helped you up, made sure you were settled, adjusting the blanket without asking, tugging it around your legs.

“I’ve got one more stop,” Natasha said as she took the reins. “Won’t take long.”

You nodded, your eyes locked onto the street ahead. “Okay.”

The stop was quick. In and out. A few coins exchanged, a sack tossed into the back of the wagon. Natasha didn’t stay long, only having a brief conversation with the shopkeeper. She climbed back up, clicked her tongue, and the wagon rolled forward.

The noise of town began to fade slowly as the wagon rolled on.

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been holding yourself until that moment. Your shoulders dropped, just a little. Your hands loosened in your lap. The knot in your chest didn’t disappear, but it stopped clawing for your attention.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

Natasha kept her eyes on the road, posture easy but alert, one hand resting loose on the reins. She didn’t look over at you, didn’t try to fill the quiet. She just let you breathe, for probably the first real time since you left the farm.

You watched the buildings slip away behind you. Each mile you put between yourself and the town felt like pressure easing off your lungs.

The wagon creaked softly beneath you.

Then Natasha spoke.

“Who was she?” the question landed gently, her curiosity mixed with concern.

She didn’t mean to pressure you, but you stiffened anyway.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt. Your eyes staring straight ahead, fixed on nothing in particular, mouth opening once before closing again.

“Madam B,” you said finally. “Dreykov owns the place, but she keeps track of all the girls. Who owes what. Who takes each client.”

Natasha nodded, slowly. Her eyes still focused forward.

She didn’t push. Didn’t ask what had set the woman off, didn’t ask what had happened before she walked into that alley. She already had a decent idea, and if you wanted to fill in the gaps, you would.

The wagon rolled on, the sound of the wheels filling the silence. After a few more minutes, you shifted beside her and drew a breath that shook despite your effort to steady it.

“Why did you do that for me?” you asked, your voice softer this time.

Natasha was quiet for a moment longer than necessary. She adjusted the reins again, mostly to give her hands something to do.

“I didn’t really think about it,” she answered.

That wasn’t entirely true. Of course she’d thought about it. The money. The risk. But none of that was what mattered in that moment, and she wasn’t about to put the weight of it on you.

“You were cornered,” she continued. “And she was hurting you.” she paused for a brief second. “That’s where I stopped weighing my options.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. You’d never had anyone step in like that before. Not for someone like you. Your gaze drifted over despite yourself, landing on Natasha’s profile.

“You didn’t have to.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose. She knew that. She just didn’t know how you expected her to see you like that, and keep walking. To let it be your problem to handle alone.

Another stretch of road passed beneath you.

“I’ve been around people like her,” Natasha said. “They don’t stop unless someone makes them.” she looked at you this time, just long enough to meet your eyes. “And I wasn’t going to leave you there.”

Natasha’s voice softened without her meaning for it to, and something else in her chest softened even more. “You trusted me enough to come back,” she reminded you. “That has to count for something, right?”

You looked down at your hands, fingers curled loosely in your lap. You hadn’t even realized you’d trusted Natasha until now. It had just happened, the way you lean toward warmth without thinking when you’re cold for too long.

The wagon rolled on, the space between you light as the ride back to the farm continued. Quiet in a way that made you feel a type of security you hadn’t felt in a while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A week had passed since Natasha brought you back.

It was quieter than town had ever been. Not just less noise, but less tension. No voices raised through thin walls. No footsteps outside your door at odd hours. No waiting for something to go wrong. The days played out gently, almost predictably. Cool air in the mornings, warm light creeping across the fields, the low, steady sounds of the farm waking up around you.

It should’ve been comforting.

Instead, it felt strange. Almost unsettling. Like your body hadn’t yet learned that it didn’t need to be on guard all the time.

You’d expected to feel like a guest. Or a burden.

Someone only temporarily tolerated. But Natasha moved around you like your presence made sense here, like there was nothing unusual about another chair pulled up to the table or another pair of boots by the door. She didn’t hover, didn’t watch you like you might disappear again.

She just adjusted. Made space for you.

But still, the guilt lingered.

So you asked for one thing.

To help.

You didn’t want to just exist in her space. Didn’t want to feel like something she’d picked up and set down out of obligation. You wanted to earn it. Wanted your hands to be useful, your presence justified. Wanted to feel like you weren’t someone she’d just rescued, but someone who belonged here because they worked for it.

Natasha hadn’t argued. She’d studied you for a long moment, quiet and unreadable, then nodded once.

“Alright,” she’d said simply. “We’ll start small.”

That was how you ended up standing in the dirt behind the house with a metal bucket held in your palms, staring down a cluster of chickens like they were a threat she hadn’t been properly warned you about.

“They’re staring at me,” you said quietly, shoulders tense, eyes flicking between each of them.

Natasha leaned against the fence beside you, arms crossed loosely. “Yeah,” she said. “They tend to do that.”

“They’re judging me.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. “They judge everyone.”

You shifted your weight, the grain inside the bucket rattling softly. “Are you sure they don’t bite?”

“I’m sure,” Natasha said. Then, after a pause just long enough to be suspicious. “Most of the time.”

You shot her a look. “That’s not reassuring.”

She shrugged, unapologetic, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “You’ll survive.”

You took a cautious step forward. Instantly, the chickens surged closer, feathers rustling, bodies pressing toward the fence all at once. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh—oh no,” you murmured. “Why are they moving like that?”

“They know food when they see it.”

“I don’t like how fast they know.”

Natasha pushed off the fence and stepped closer. Close enough that you could feel her presence at your side without her touching you. “Just toss some out,” she instructed calmly. “They’ll focus on that.”

You reached into the bucket, grabbed a small handful, and scattered it. For a moment, nothing happened.

You let out a careful breath. “Okay. Okay, maybe this isn’t so—”

Just before you could finish your sentence, one of the hens launched itself straight toward your chest.

You yelped. Sharp, undignified, and stumbled back, nearly dropping the bucket as wings flapped far too close to your face.

“Nope,” you said immediately. “No. I’m done. I changed my mind.”

Natasha laughed before she could stop herself. It just slipped out, and for a moment it softened everything. She was already moving, one hand catching the bucket before it tipped, the other landing lightly on your arm to steady you.

“Easy,” she said, still smiling. “She’s not trying to hurt you.”

“She flew at me,” you insisted, pointing accusingly at the hen. “That one. That one has intent.”

“That’s Agnes,” Natasha replied. “She can be rude sometimes.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “You named her?”

“She earned it.”

Another chicken flapped too close and you leaned toward Natasha without thinking, your shoulder brushing her arm. The movement was instinctive, happening before you could stop it. And you froze the second you realized what you’d done.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Natasha said immediately, her voice lower now. Her hand stayed on your arm, warm and comforting. “You’re fine.”

She didn’t make a thing of it. Didn’t tease. Didn’t tell you to relax. Just stayed there, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got you,” she added quietly. “I’m watching them.”

Something in your chest eased at that. You nodded, trusting her without stopping to question why it felt so easy with her. Why your body believed her before your mind could catch up.

She showed you again, slower this time. Where to stand. How to scatter the grain wider. How not to let them crowd you.

You followed her lead, movements awkward but determined. When another chicken jumped, you flinched, but you didn’t retreat.

Natasha just watched you with a soft grin. “See?” she said, a hint of quiet pride in her voice. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

You let out a breath that turned into a reluctant laugh. “I feel like I’m losing a fight I didn’t agree to.”

“That’s the farm for you,” she chuckled, crossing her arms and taking a step back to let you work.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. And you kept going, Natasha close enough to make you feel safe, yet far enough to let the task feel like yours.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Another week passed, almost without you noticing it.

That alone felt strange.

Back in town, at The Red Rood, time would drag. Each day something to get through rather than live. Here, it slipped by almost effortlessly.

Mornings blurred into afternoons. The routine settled in easily. You still woke up tense sometimes, still caught yourself listening for sounds that never came, but you were adjusting.

You were still careful. Still mindful of yourself. But it didn’t take quite as much effort anymore.

Natasha noticed, even if she didn’t say anything.

That morning, she handed you a pair of gloves without comment and jerked her head toward the chopping block set a little ways from the house.

“Firewood’s getting low,” she explained. “Thought we could take care of it before it gets cold again.”

You nodded instantly. Too quickly for someone who’s never done it before. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

She glanced at you, one eyebrow lifting just slightly. “I should probably show you first.”

“Right,” you said, then added softer as if remembering yourself. “If you don’t mind, please.”

The chopping block was worn smooth in the middle, years of use carved into it. A stack of logs sat beside it. The axe leaned against the stump, heavier looking than you’d expected.

Fanny trotted over the moment you stopped walking, tail wagging like she’d been invited personally. She sniffed at the logs, sneezed, then sat down a little too close to the stump.

Natasha threw her hands out in disbelief. “You’re sitting in exactly the worst possible place right now.”

The dog simply stared at her with a panting smile on her face, choosing to stay put.

Natasha sighed. “You’re going to lose a tail one of these days.”

Fanny tilted her head and whined, clearly unimpressed at the statement.

She demonstrated first. She set the log, raised the axe, and brought it down clean. The log split with a sharp crack.

Your eyes widened despite yourself. “Okay.”

Natasha glanced at you, then back to the stump, her voice softer when she spoke. “Hey. Don’t psych yourself out.” she encouraged, like she was reminding you to breathe. “It doesn’t have to look like that yet.”

“I’m not—” you stopped before you could finish the lie. “I am. I am psyching myself out.”

She stepped aside, handing you the axe handle first. “Just take it slow.”

You wrapped your hands around it. The weight surprised you, dragging your arms down a little.

You swallowed. “This is starting to feel like a bad idea.”

Natasha huffed a quiet laugh and shook her head, amusement soft at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll be fine. Just take it slow.”

“That’s what you said about the chickens.”

“And you lived to talk about it.”

“Barely.”

Natasha couldn’t stop the grin that snuck onto her face before noticing your completely improper positioning when you stepped up to the stump.

“Alright,” she sighed. “The first thing is your stance.” she nudged your foot with the toe of her boot. “Wider. You don’t want to wobble.”

You adjusted accordingly, immediately feeling awkward. “Like this?”

“A little more.” she stepped closer behind you, and gently shifted your shoulders. You froze for half a second, your heart racing from nothing that had to do with the axe in your hands or the log you were about to chop.

“There,” she said and stepped back. “That’s better.”

You lifted the axe, too stiff, too careful, and brought it down. It clipped the edge of the log instead of the center, knocking it off balance. The wood rolled off the stump and hit the ground with a dull thud. You froze, staring at it like it had personally betrayed you.

“Hey,” Natasha said, calm as ever. “That’s normal. Happens all the time.”

You let out a shaky laugh you hadn’t planned on. “Liar.”

This time she smiled, small and warm. “Alright. Maybe not all the time. But you’re doing fine.”

Natasha reset the log for you and stepped back, allowing you to try again. “Remember, feet shoulder width apart. Try putting one hand near the head and one lower down. You don’t want to muscle it, you want to let gravity do the work.”

You nod like you understand. You absolutely do not. You try again. This time the axe bites into the wood, barely, lodging itself there instead of splitting anything. You stared at it for a second, then gave the handle an experimental tug.

Nothing.

The mess up sat there. Stuck, and seemingly unfixable in your racing mind, making your stomach drop.

“Oh.” you muttered. “I broke it.”

You tried again, pulling harder. The log wobbled, the whole stump shifting beneath it, and panic flared hot and immediate in your chest.

Natasha was beside you before you could say anything else. “You’re okay. This happens a lot too.” she reassured, already reaching for the handle.

She braced the stump with her boot, one hand steadying the wood while the other closed over the axe handle above yours. Her grip was firm, practiced.

“Pull straight up,” she directed gently. “Don’t try to fight with it.”

You did as she said and together, you worked it free. The axe came loose and the log toppled onto its side.

You exhaled slowly, stress spilling out of you all at once.

You glanced at her, startled by how close she was, then looked away just as quickly. “I just—sorry,” you said, the apology slipping out on instinct. “I know I’m slowing you down.”

“You’re not,” her response was immediate, like she was sure of it before you even spoke. “And I wouldn’t be here with you if I minded.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You were still getting used to not being corrected for even the most minor mishaps, to being spoken to like you mattered instead of constantly being talked down to.

You reset the log and tried again.

Slower this time. More careful and deliberate. The axe came down, and split the log. Unevenly, sure. But it split nonetheless. You blinked at the wood that now laid on the ground beside the stump, broken into two separate pieces.

“I did it.”

Natasha smiled as she looked at you. Not big or overly exaggerated. But proud and genuine.

“You did.”

Something warm settled in your chest at that. Pride, maybe, from doing it all on your own. Or relief, from not being completely helpless.

You kept going. Missed once. Landed another. Your arms burned, but you didn’t mind. Natasha stayed close, helping you when needed, catching the axe once when it slipped too far sideways.

At one point, Fanny darted in again, snatched a piece of bark, and bolted across the field like she’d stolen something valuable.

“Hey!” you called out, laughing. “That’s not yours!”

Fanny did not care. She skidded to a stop a few yards away, dropped it, then wagged her tail like she expected you to chase after her.

So you did, because who were you to let a dog pick on you like that.

Natasha watched quietly from the stump, arms crossed, axe resting against her leg. Something inside her eased at the sight of you. Laughing, unguarded, distracted, and it did something to her chest she didn’t have the words to describe.

She didn’t realize how much she was hoping to see that until now.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Port In The Storm - Part 1/3

Pairing: Farmer!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After finding you outside her farm in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and skittish, Natasha takes you in and gives you a place to stay. You begin to form an unexpected bond, but you know all good things are never permanent for you. Natasha can only hope you decide to trust her enough to let her in, and you can only hope you’re able to overcome your fear enough to do so.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Light hints at sexual exploitation | Bruises | Trauma responses

The storm came over the farm the way it always did out there. Quiet at first, almost deceptive, and then everything hitting all at once. The sky had been dark all evening, clouds pressed heavy like they were waiting for permission to let go.

By the time Natasha reached the far fence, the wind had turned sharp, slicing through the seams of her coat, rain already slanting sideways and soaking her sleeves. She should’ve moved faster.

She knew that. The horses had been restless since dusk. Their ears flicking back and forth, hooves stamping against the dirt, sensing the pressure change long before she’d been willing to admit the storm was coming.

She’d underestimated it. Again.

“Alright,” she murmured, tugging the gate open as another gust of wind snapped at her coat. “In you go.”

The horses shifted, snorting, crowding toward the stable. Natasha guided them in with practiced ease, hands steady even as rain plastered her hair to her temples. Fanny stuck close by her side, circling once before sitting near the fence, her head lifted, eyes trained on the dark stretch of road beyond the pasture.

The American Akita’s fur was already slick with rain, but she didn’t seem to care. Fanny never did. She enjoyed tagging along for whatever chore Natasha had to handle, treating it like an important shared duty rather than work.

Natasha latched the final stall door shut, and that was when Fanny barked.

Not playful. Not excited.

But sharp. Alert. A warning sound that cut clean through the echoes of the storm.

Natasha froze, one hand still resting against the stable door. “Fanny?” she called, raising her voice just enough to carry over the wind.

The dog barked again, stepping forward, muscles taut beneath her thick coat, then stopping short like she was waiting for her signal.

Natasha followed her gaze.

At first, she thought it was nothing. Rain distorted everything out there. Shadows stretched, lightning flashed too fast to trust. But then another bolt split the sky open, white and blinding, and for a split second the land was illuminated clearly.

A woman.

Walking along the road.

No horse. No wagon. No lantern in hand. Just a coat pulled tight around her frame, head bowed against the rain, steps uneven, like she wasn’t fighting the weather, but rather exhaustion.

Natasha’s brow furrowed. No one walked this far out unless they had to. No one sensible, anyway. And certainly not in a storm like this.

She shut the stable door and started toward the road, boots sinking into the mud with each step. “Hey!” she called, lifting her voice without shouting, careful not to startle whoever this was any more than they already might be.

You startled anyway.

Your shoulders jerked up, your whole body flinching like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You turned too quickly, almost tripping over your own feet, eyes wide and searching. When you saw it was just another woman standing there, no horse, no weapon, your breath still seemed to catch regardless.

“I—I’m sorry,” you said immediately, words tumbling over each other in a rush. “I didn’t mean to—I can leave, I was just—”

“Hey,” Natasha said, slowing her approach, hands lifting slightly, palms visible and open. “You don’t need to apologize.”

You nodded. Once. Then again. As if apologizing was a reflex, something ingrained too deeply to stop even when it wasn’t necessary.

Rain stuck your hair to your cheeks, the strands clinging to your skin. Your eyes flickered everywhere but Natasha’s face. The road ahead, the fields stretching out on either side, the dark sky overhead, like you were tracking something Natasha seemingly couldn’t see.

“Are you alright?” Natasha asked, keeping her voice low, comforting. “Storm’s not too kind to folks on foot.”

“Yes,” you answered too fast. Then, quieter, like the truth was catching up to you, “I think so. I’m fine. I just—thank you for asking, but I’ll get out of your hair now.”

You took a step past Natasha, then hesitated. Your hands tightened inside the sleeves of your coat, fingers curling like you were bracing yourself.

That was when Natasha noticed the trembling.

It wasn’t obvious. Not the kind people noticed right away. Just a subtle shake under the rain. But once Natasha saw it, she couldn’t unsee it, and something settled uneasily in her chest.

“You’re a long way from town,” she commented, mostly an observation. “And it’s only getting worse.”

“I know,” you replied. “I didn’t mean to come this far. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

There it was again.

Natasha couldn’t help but make a mental note of it. The constant apologies like you seemed to expect immediate irritation in response.

Fanny padded closer, nose lifting as she sniffed curiously, tail giving a tiny wag. You flinched at the movement, shoulders tensing, then relaxing just a fraction when the dog sat instead of advancing toward you.

“She won’t hurt you,” Natasha reassured softly. “That’s Fanny. She’s technically my sister’s, but I take care of her while she’s out of town.”

You swallowed, observing the dog. “She’s…cute.”

The word surprised a soft laugh out of Natasha before she could stop it. “Yeah,” she said fondly. “She knows. Careful not to inflate her ego any more than it already is.”

Thunder cracked overhead, close enough that the ground vibrated beneath your feet. You winced, shoulders drawing inward instinctively, visibly trying to make yourself smaller.

That decided it for Natasha.

“Why don’t you come inside,” she offered. “Please.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden suggestion. “I couldn’t. I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Natasha said, calm but firm in a way that didn’t leave much room for argument. “Just until the storm passes. You can warm up. Dry off. Rest your feet.”

“I really shouldn’t,” you murmured, shaking your head even as you stayed rooted in place. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Natasha stepped a little closer, not too much, but just enough that her voice didn’t have to fight against the wind anymore. “You’re not,” she gently assured. “And I won’t leave someone out here in weather like this.”

You finally looked at her properly.

Really looked.

Your eyes were cautious, searching, weighing the offer and the intentions behind it. Natasha simply held your gaze, letting the answer be entirely yours to decide.

“…Okay,” you finally nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Natasha turned back toward the house, adjusting her pace so you could walk beside her without feeling rushed. She noticed how carefully you kept your distance, like you were afraid of taking up too much space.

“I’m Natasha,” she said after a moment.

“Y/n,” you replied. “Thank you. Truly. I—I promise I won’t stay long.”

Natasha glanced at you, taking in the curve of your mouth, the way rain traced the line of your jaw. There was something soft there beneath the fear, something quiet and guarded.

“Take all the time you need,”

Inside, the warmth of the fire wrapped around you immediately. Wood creaked softly as it settled, walls holding the storm at bay. The rain still hammered the roof, but here it was muted, distant.

You paused just inside the doorway.

Water pooled at your boots, darkening the worn floorboards. You stood there as if you’d crossed some invisible threshold you weren’t sure you were allowed to step over, hands fidgeting at your sides, fingers brushing the seams of your coat, then retreating again like you didn’t quite know where to put them.

Natasha noticed immediately.

“Go ahead,” she ushered gently, toeing off her own boots near the door. “You can come in.”

“I am in,” you said, head tilting slightly like it should’ve been obvious. Then your face flushed, heat creeping up your neck as if you’d misspoken. “I—sorry.”

Natasha ducked her head to hide a small smile, not wanting to draw attention to it. She set the lantern down on the table and glanced at the damp trail you’d left behind as you took a few tentative steps farther into the room, eyes scanning the space like you were memorizing exits.

“You’re soaked through. Let me grab you something dry.”

“Oh—no, that’s really not necessary,” you said all at once, words mushing together. “I don’t want to—I can just—”

“You’ll catch a cold,” Natasha interrupted softly. “And I’ve got plenty.”

You hesitated, eyes flicking toward the door like you might bolt if given even half a reason. The storm rattled the windows behind you, thunder rumbling again, and after a long moment you nodded.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

Natasha didn’t comment on the apology. She simply disappeared down the hall before it could settle too deeply between you.

She returned a moment later with a folded pair of clothes. Fresh but clearly well worn, fabric softened with use. She held them out without comment, not pushing them into your hands, just offering.

“You can change by the fire,” Natasha said. “Or I can step out.”

“No—I mean—the fire’s fine,” you decided quickly, then added, quieter, “If that’s alright with you.”

“It is.”

Natasha turned her back anyway.

She busied herself at the stove, filling the kettle with water, setting it to heat. The familiar motions grounded her. Hands steady, movements practiced. Behind her, she heard fabric shift, the soft sound of wet cloth being peeled away, the faint hitch of your breath as you tugged free of damp layers.

“You don’t have to rush,” Natasha told you quietly. “Take your time.”

She turned as she reached for the mugs, and caught more than she meant to.

Just a glimpse.

Firelight traced your bare skin before the cloth replaced it, the moment fleeting but unmistakable. Enough to see what the rain and darkness had hidden.

Bruises.

Faded yellows and greens along your ribs, older ones healing unevenly. Darker marks near your shoulder, newer, blooming deep and angry like they hadn’t yet been given time to recover. The pattern clearly wasn’t accidental.

Natasha looked away instantly, throat tightening as if she’d swallowed something sharp. She focused on the kettle, on the steam curling upward, on the way her fingers had gone rigid around the handle.

Someone had hurt you.

The realization settled heavy and cold in her chest, followed quickly by something else. Anger, sudden and protective, coiling low in her stomach.

She wouldn’t ask. Not now. Not when you stood just a few steps behind her, unaware you’d been seen, and finally trusting her just enough to let your guard waiver in the warmth.

When Natasha turned back, you stood awkwardly near the chair, clothes folded neatly in your arms like you weren’t sure what to do with them. Your hair still dripped slightly, as the heat of the fire coaxed the damp away.

Natasha poured the tea, hands steady despite the storm that had shifted inside her. She crossed the room and held the mug out. “Here, I’ll trade you.” she said, voice gentle and unchanged.

You stared at the mug for a brief moment, as if inspecting it, as if making sure it was truly meant for you. Then you handed the damp bundle of clothes over and accepted the tea with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“I’ll—I’ll give these back as soon as they’re dry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Natasha brushed off as she draped the wet clothes carefully over the backs of the kitchen chairs so they could air dry. “They’re just clothes.”

She took her own mug and moved to the couch, sinking into it with a soft exhale. The fire cast warm light across the room, shadows dancing lazily along the walls. When she glanced back up, she realized you hadn’t followed.

You stood exactly where Natasha had left you, tea held in both hands, shoulders tense, eyes flicking uncertainly between the chair and the door like you were weighing whether staying was a mistake.

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “You can sit,” she said. “Anywhere you like.”

You just blinked, surprised by the permission. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,”

You hovered another second before perching on the edge of the chair across from the couch, posture careful, like you were ready to spring up if asked.

The both of you sat in silence for a moment. The fire crackled softly. Rain tapped steady and rhythmic against the windows. The world felt smaller here, contained.

After a beat, Natasha spoke. “What had you out there tonight? Not many people come out this way, even on a sunny day.”

Your grip tightened around the mug. Your gaze dropped to the tea, watching the steam rise and disappear.

“I—” you hesitated, breath catching, the word stalling before it could become anything solid.

Natasha saw it immediately. The tension snapping tight, the way your body began closing in on itself.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha apologized. “You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” you said quickly, lifting your head. “It’s—it’s okay. Really.”

You swallowed, shoulders curling inward just a little. “I just needed to get away for a bit. Things got…overwhelming.”

Natasha only nodded, choosing not to press. “That happens.”

You glanced up at her then, tentative, as if testing the space between you. When Natasha didn’t push, didn’t pry, something in you seemed to loosen, just a fraction.

You took another sip of tea, then yawned. The sound was small, involuntary. You flushed immediately, lifting a hand like you could apologize it away.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” Natasha chuckled softly. She leaned forward, setting her mug on the table. “You look exhausted.”

You shrugged, but the motion lacked conviction. Your eyes were heavy now, blinking slower, the adrenaline finally draining away.

“You can stay the night,” she said, already standing. “Storm’s nowhere near done yet, and you’re in no shape to walk anywhere.”

“Oh—I couldn’t take your bed—”

“I wasn’t offering it,” Natasha replied, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “Couch is more than comfortable. There are extra blankets in the chest.”

She crossed the room and pulled them out. Thick quilts, softened with years of use, smelling faintly of soap and woodsmoke. She set them within easy reach, careful not to crowd you.

“I’ll be down the hall,” Natasha added. “If you need anything. Water. Food. Or if you just can’t sleep.”

You looked at the blankets, then up at Natasha. Something quiet and grateful flickered across your face.

“Thank you,”

Natasha nodded once, letting that be enough. She dimmed the lantern, leaving only the firelight, and gave you the space you clearly needed for the night.

~ ~

The morning came gently.

You woke to warmth first.

The weight of blankets pressed reassuringly over your body, heavy in a way that felt comforting rather than confining. The fire in the hearth had burned low overnight, embers glowing dull red beneath a thin layer of ash, giving off just enough heat to keep the chill away.

For a few quiet seconds, you lay there disoriented, staring at the ceiling, unsure where you were or why you didn’t even feel the need to run despite the uncertainty.

Then the smell reached you.

Rich. Savory. Salty.

The house creaked softly as it settled, old wood stretching and relaxing with the coziness of the morning.

From the kitchen came the low, steady clink of a pan, metal meeting metal, followed by the unmistakable sound of sizzling. The rhythm of it was unhurried yet purposeful.

You pushed yourself upright slowly, as if moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile calm had found you. The blankets slid down to your waist, and sunlight filtered through the window, pale and clean after the storm, dust motes drifting lazily through it as it painted the room in warm gold.

For a moment, you simply sat there.

Taking it in.

Natasha stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, hair pulled back and out of her face. She moved easily, like this was a morning she’d lived a hundred times and expected to live a hundred more.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of you.

“Morning,” she greeted, voice warm as she gave a small smile. “Hope you’re hungry. I’ve got bacon and eggs.”

Something in your chest jumped sharply at the casual kindness of it.

But then as it sank in, your feet hit the floor almost immediately.

“Oh—I can help,” you said quickly, already crossing the room before Natasha could turn back to the pan. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late, I can—just tell me what to do.”

Natasha turned fully then, taking in the way you hovered, already braced for instruction or correction. She noticed the way your hands twisted together, fingers worrying at each other like they needed something to hold onto.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Natasha said gently. “I’ve got it. It’s okay.”

“But I should—” you started, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t want to just—sit around—”

Natasha softened her voice even further, lowering it so it didn’t feel like a command. “Just sit. Eat. That’s all I need from you.”

She held your gaze when she said it, steady and unflinching, offering certainty without pressure.

You hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to the table, then back to Natasha, like you were waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, your shoulders eased just a fraction.

“…Okay,” you agreed.

You moved to the table and sat, posture careful, knees drawn in slightly beneath the chair. Natasha watched you for a moment longer than necessary, something warm and unfamiliar stirring in her chest.

A pull. A need to make sure the chair was comfortable, the food was filling, the silence wasn’t too uneasy.

She turned back to the stove before you could catch her staring.

The bacon crackled softly as she plated it, the eggs steaming and cooked to perfection. She paused, then added a little extra to your plate before setting it down in front of you.

“Here,” she said. “Eat.”

You stared at the plate like it might vanish if you didn’t focus hard enough. “Thank you,” you murmured, then picked up the fork with careful deliberation.

Natasha took her own seat across from you, resting her elbows lightly on the table. She didn’t eat right away. She watched instead. Subtle, unobtrusive.

Observing the way you took your first bite, the way your eyes fluttered closed for half a second before you caught yourself and straightened.

“How’d you sleep?” Natasha asked.

You paused, fork hovering midair. “Um…good,” you said after a moment. Then quieter, like the truth was still surprising you, “Better than I expected.”

Natasha smiled faintly at that, something easing in her chest. “Good.”

You ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, punctuated only by the scrape of cutlery and the low pop of the dying fire. Outside, the farm gleamed clean and fresh, puddles reflecting the pale sky.

“I’ve got a few things to do today,” she said casually, more to fill the space than anything else. “Fence needs checking after the storm. Horses will be restless. Fanny too. She hates it when routine gets disrupted.”

You nodded along, but Natasha noticed the way your movements slowed, the way your gaze dropped to your plate. Something closed off again, subtle but unmistakable.

Natasha leaned back slightly. “You don’t have to go anywhere,” she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Not today. Not tomorrow. You can stay as long as you need.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “I couldn’t—”

“You can,” Natasha protested gently. “And you don’t owe me anything for it.”

The words seemed to settle slowly, but before you could respond, a knock came sharp and sudden, a solid rap against the door that cut clean through the quiet of the kitchen.

Natasha looked up first, rising from her chair. It was early for visitors, especially this far out. She wiped her hands once on a towel and crossed the room, steps unhurried even as her attention sharpened.

Natasha reached the door and pulled it open.

Cool morning air spilled inside along with the scent of damp earth. An older man stood on the porch, hat in his hands, coat still darkened with rain from the night before. His eyes were sharp, scanning past Natasha almost immediately, lingering just a beat too long on the interior of the house.

“Good morning,” he said. Polite. Measured. “Sorry to bother you so early.”

“Oh, that’s alright. What can I do for you, sir?” Natasha replied evenly.

The man shifted his weight, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. “I was wondering if you might’ve seen a young woman passing through here. Would’ve been walking. Came through sometime last night.”

It wasn’t the words that caught your attention.

It was the voice.

Behind Natasha, a chair scraped softly.

You went rigid.

The color drained from your face so fast it was almost startling. Your fingers tightened on the edge of the table, knuckles blanching as if you needed something solid to keep yourself anchored. You didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

You just shook your head.

Once. Twice.

Barely noticeable, but unmistakable.

Natasha saw it out of the corner of her eye.

Saw the fear, raw and unfiltered, flash across your face like you’d been struck. Saw the way your shoulders curled inward, like you were bracing for impact.

That was all the answer Natasha needed.

“No,” she said calmly, maintaining her composure. “Haven’t seen anyone.”

The man studied her. His gaze stayed on her face for a long moment, searching, like he didn’t want to believe her. Natasha met his stare without blinking.

Finally, he nodded once. “Alright. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Safe travels,” Natasha said, forcing a kind smile.

He hesitated another second on the threshold, eyes flicking past her shoulder one last time, then stepped back. His boots thudded softly against the porch as he turned and walked away, disappearing down the path.

Natasha closed the door slowly.

Only when the latch slid into place did she turn around.

You were still seated, hands clenched in your lap now, chest rising and falling too quickly. Your eyes were fixed on the door like you expected it to open again at any second.

The breath shuddered out of you, thin and uneven, like it had been trapped in your lungs the entire time.

Natasha didn’t rush toward you.

She moved back to the table and sat down slowly, deliberately, like she was trying not to spook a skittish animal. The chair dragged softly against the floorboards, and she rested her forearms on the table, leaving space between you. Close enough to be present, but not too close to feel intimidating.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Your breathing began to even out, though your fingers were still curled tight in your lap, nails digging into fabric. Your gaze stayed fixed on the door, like part of you was standing on the other side of it.

Natasha waited until the tension eased just a fraction.

Then she spoke.

“Do you mind telling me who that man was?” her voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness beneath it.

Not suspicion. Not accusation. But real concern.

You winced anyway.

Your shoulders drew in, chin tucking slightly, eyes dropping to the table as if the wood grain suddenly required your full attention. You swallowed once. Then again.

“I—” your voice faltered. You cleared your throat. “That’s Dreykov. He…he owns a place in town.”

Natasha didn’t interrupt. She didn’t fill the silence. She simply nodded once, encouraging you to keep going without demanding it.

“It’s called The Red Room,” you continued quietly.

Something shifted behind Natasha’s eyes.

She knew the name.

Anyone within a day’s ride knew The Red Room.

Officially, it was a saloon. Whiskey, cards, music drifting out into the street. It looked ordinary enough if you weren’t looking too hard. Unofficially, it was something else entirely. The kind of place people went to get lucky with the pretty bartenders, and to forget their spouses for a night.

Natasha had passed it before on supply runs she didn’t like to linger on.

She kept her expression neutral.

“I see.” she said evenly.

Your fingers tightened again. “I…work there.”

The word came out wrong. Too flat. Like something you’d practiced saying just in case someone would ask.

Natasha’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “Work how?”

You hesitated, breath stalling in your chest. When you spoke again, it was soft and careful. “I pour drinks,” you explained. “I talk to people. I…I do what I’m told.”

You didn’t look up.

Natasha didn’t push for more. She didn’t need to. The picture painted itself in between the pauses, the bruises, the fear that had hollowed you out at the sound of one man’s voice.

“And you owe him.” Natasha said. It wasn’t a question.

You nodded.

“Yes.”

The word was barely audible.

“For room and board,” you added quickly, like you needed to justify it. “For food. For taking me in when I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Your shoulders rose defensively, preparing for judgment.

It never came.

Natasha leaned back slightly, inhaling through her nose, grounding herself before she spoke again. Anger simmered low and steady in her chest at the situation you were put in.

“And he came looking for you.” she continued calmly.

You nodded again, tears gathering but not falling. “He doesn’t like it when people leave without permission.”

Natasha held your gaze now, steady and unflinching. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. He doesn’t own you.”

Your breath hitched at that. Your eyes finally lifted, searching Natasha’s face like you were waiting for the sentence to finish. To twist, to take itself back.

It didn’t.

Natasha continued, quieter but no less firm. “And if he comes back here, that becomes my problem too.”

Your eyes widened. “I don’t want to put you in any danger—”

“You didn’t.” Natasha reassured immediately. “But I just need to know what I’m dealing with.” She paused, then added, “And I need you to know that you don’t owe him anything.”

You pressed your lips together, a single tear finally slipping free and tracking down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, embarrassed, but Natasha pretended not to notice.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Natasha nodded once and a silence fell between you. Not heavy. Not uncomfortable. Just space. The kind you give a wound so it can breathe instead of being pressed and prodded. The fire crackled softly behind you, and outside, the morning carried on as if nothing in the world had shifted at all.

Natasha broke the quiet first, her voice natural in a way that made you feel more relaxed. “I’ll be heading out for a bit. Firewood needs hauling, and that fence won’t fix itself.”

You nodded, your eyes still fixed on the table. It was easier than looking at Natasha after that. “I can help—”

“You can rest,” Natasha cut in gently. “And that’s not a request.”

You huffed a small, embarrassed laugh, the sound thin but genuine, and finally glanced up. “Okay.”

Natasha stood, gathering the plates from breakfast, and began to clear the table. She moved with a quiet awareness of you the entire time. Not watching you outright, but keeping track of you in the way one does with something fragile without wanting it to feel suffocated.

You remained seated for a while, then eventually curled up on the couch, blankets pulled around your shoulders like you were still unsure you’d earned the comfort.

Fanny trotted over not long after, nails clicking softly against the floorboards. She paused, glanced once at Natasha for permission, then hopped up with a low huff and circled before settling beside you. You startled at first, then relaxed when the dog pressed her warm weight against your side.

“Oh,” you murmured, surprised. Your hand hovered uncertainly above Fanny’s head before resting there, tentative at first, then firmer as the dog leaned into the touch.

Natasha watched from the doorway.

Something in her chest eased at the sight. Your shoulders lowering, your breathing slowing as Fanny anchored you to the present in a way words couldn’t.

Still, beneath that easing sat a tight, restless knot. The man’s voice. The way you had gone still. The knowledge that danger didn’t disappear just because a door had been closed.

When Natasha finally stepped outside, the air smelled clean, scrubbed raw by the storm. She split wood with measured force, the steady rhythm grounding, but her thoughts refused to settle. She kept seeing your bruises in firelight, hearing the apology woven into every sentence you spoke.

Inside, you listened to the sounds of work drifting through the walls. The thud of an axe. The creak of wood. The world continuing to spin despite you.

Guilt gnawed at you.

Natasha had offered safety without hesitation, comfort without expectation. And already, you had brought danger to her door. You could still hear the man’s voice, polite, probing, and imagine him returning, less patient next time. The thought of Natasha having to handle that because of you made your stomach twist.

This wasn’t permanent. You knew that. It couldn’t be.

Natasha had her farm, her animals, her quiet life carved out with care. You didn’t belong in it. Not when you carried so much baggage with you.

You moved slowly, quietly, and changed back into your own clothes. The familiar fabric was rougher, colder, after the borrowed warmth of Natasha’s. You folded the clothes Natasha had given you with careful precision, smoothing out every crease, aligning edges until they sat just right.

At the kitchen table, you set them down neatly. Then you hesitated, fingers hovering, before finding a scrap of paper. The note you left was simple. Too simple, maybe.

Thank you.

You paused at the door, taking one last look at the space you’d finally been allowed to feel the safest you’d felt in forever.

Fanny noticed you first. The dog lifted her head, ears perking, tail giving a hopeful thump against the floor, then stopping when you reached for the door. A low whine slipped from her throat, confused and unhappy.

“I know,” you whispered, crouching just long enough to brush your fingers through the thick fur along Fanny’s back. “I’m sorry.”

Fanny followed you to the threshold, whining again as you stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind you. The sound lingered even after you started down the path, a thin, aching thread tugging at your chest.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

By the time Natasha returned inside to fetch a coil of rope a couple hours later, the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

The couch was empty. The blankets folded back neatly. Fanny lifted her head, ears pricking, tail thumping once against the floor before stalling.

Natasha’s gaze drifted to the kitchen table where the clothes she’d lent you were folded and stacked ever so carefully. Beside them lay a small scrap of paper, the edges torn unevenly.

Natasha picked it up.

Thank you.

Her chest tightened. Not with anger or blame. But something heavier. Worry. Something she hadn’t expected, a tether to the absence of you, who had trusted her, however briefly it was.

She sank into a chair, hands brushing over the note, reading and rereading the words. The brevity didn’t lessen the weight. Fanny padded closer, nudging Natasha’s knee with her damp nose. Natasha’s fingers absently scratched behind the dog’s ears, and for a moment, the quiet pressed against her chest.

The emptiness of the house, the idea that you had returned to a place that would demand more from you than Natasha could protect you from. She allowed herself to hope that you might come back. That you might need her again. That you might, somehow, be willing to let her in.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

part 2 tomorrow!

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Port In The Storm - Part 1/3

Pairing: Farmer!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After finding you outside her farm in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and skittish, Natasha takes you in and gives you a place to stay. You begin to form an unexpected bond, but you know all good things are never permanent for you. Natasha can only hope you decide to trust her enough to let her in, and you can only hope you’re able to overcome your fear enough to do so.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Light hints at sexual exploitation | Bruises | Trauma responses

The storm came over the farm the way it always did out there. Quiet at first, almost deceptive, and then everything hitting all at once. The sky had been dark all evening, clouds pressed heavy like they were waiting for permission to let go.

By the time Natasha reached the far fence, the wind had turned sharp, slicing through the seams of her coat, rain already slanting sideways and soaking her sleeves. She should’ve moved faster.

She knew that. The horses had been restless since dusk. Their ears flicking back and forth, hooves stamping against the dirt, sensing the pressure change long before she’d been willing to admit the storm was coming.

She’d underestimated it. Again.

“Alright,” she murmured, tugging the gate open as another gust of wind snapped at her coat. “In you go.”

The horses shifted, snorting, crowding toward the stable. Natasha guided them in with practiced ease, hands steady even as rain plastered her hair to her temples. Fanny stuck close by her side, circling once before sitting near the fence, her head lifted, eyes trained on the dark stretch of road beyond the pasture.

The American Akita’s fur was already slick with rain, but she didn’t seem to care. Fanny never did. She enjoyed tagging along for whatever chore Natasha had to handle, treating it like an important shared duty rather than work.

Natasha latched the final stall door shut, and that was when Fanny barked.

Not playful. Not excited.

But sharp. Alert. A warning sound that cut clean through the echoes of the storm.

Natasha froze, one hand still resting against the stable door. “Fanny?” she called, raising her voice just enough to carry over the wind.

The dog barked again, stepping forward, muscles taut beneath her thick coat, then stopping short like she was waiting for her signal.

Natasha followed her gaze.

At first, she thought it was nothing. Rain distorted everything out there. Shadows stretched, lightning flashed too fast to trust. But then another bolt split the sky open, white and blinding, and for a split second the land was illuminated clearly.

A woman.

Walking along the road.

No horse. No wagon. No lantern in hand. Just a coat pulled tight around her frame, head bowed against the rain, steps uneven, like she wasn’t fighting the weather, but rather exhaustion.

Natasha’s brow furrowed. No one walked this far out unless they had to. No one sensible, anyway. And certainly not in a storm like this.

She shut the stable door and started toward the road, boots sinking into the mud with each step. “Hey!” she called, lifting her voice without shouting, careful not to startle whoever this was any more than they already might be.

You startled anyway.

Your shoulders jerked up, your whole body flinching like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You turned too quickly, almost tripping over your own feet, eyes wide and searching. When you saw it was just another woman standing there, no horse, no weapon, your breath still seemed to catch regardless.

“I—I’m sorry,” you said immediately, words tumbling over each other in a rush. “I didn’t mean to—I can leave, I was just—”

“Hey,” Natasha said, slowing her approach, hands lifting slightly, palms visible and open. “You don’t need to apologize.”

You nodded. Once. Then again. As if apologizing was a reflex, something ingrained too deeply to stop even when it wasn’t necessary.

Rain stuck your hair to your cheeks, the strands clinging to your skin. Your eyes flickered everywhere but Natasha’s face. The road ahead, the fields stretching out on either side, the dark sky overhead, like you were tracking something Natasha seemingly couldn’t see.

“Are you alright?” Natasha asked, keeping her voice low, comforting. “Storm’s not too kind to folks on foot.”

“Yes,” you answered too fast. Then, quieter, like the truth was catching up to you, “I think so. I’m fine. I just—thank you for asking, but I’ll get out of your hair now.”

You took a step past Natasha, then hesitated. Your hands tightened inside the sleeves of your coat, fingers curling like you were bracing yourself.

That was when Natasha noticed the trembling.

It wasn’t obvious. Not the kind people noticed right away. Just a subtle shake under the rain. But once Natasha saw it, she couldn’t unsee it, and something settled uneasily in her chest.

“You’re a long way from town,” she commented, mostly an observation. “And it’s only getting worse.”

“I know,” you replied. “I didn’t mean to come this far. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

There it was again.

Natasha couldn’t help but make a mental note of it. The constant apologies like you seemed to expect immediate irritation in response.

Fanny padded closer, nose lifting as she sniffed curiously, tail giving a tiny wag. You flinched at the movement, shoulders tensing, then relaxing just a fraction when the dog sat instead of advancing toward you.

“She won’t hurt you,” Natasha reassured softly. “That’s Fanny. She’s technically my sister’s, but I take care of her while she’s out of town.”

You swallowed, observing the dog. “She’s…cute.”

The word surprised a soft laugh out of Natasha before she could stop it. “Yeah,” she said fondly. “She knows. Careful not to inflate her ego any more than it already is.”

Thunder cracked overhead, close enough that the ground vibrated beneath your feet. You winced, shoulders drawing inward instinctively, visibly trying to make yourself smaller.

That decided it for Natasha.

“Why don’t you come inside,” she offered. “Please.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden suggestion. “I couldn’t. I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Natasha said, calm but firm in a way that didn’t leave much room for argument. “Just until the storm passes. You can warm up. Dry off. Rest your feet.”

“I really shouldn’t,” you murmured, shaking your head even as you stayed rooted in place. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Natasha stepped a little closer, not too much, but just enough that her voice didn’t have to fight against the wind anymore. “You’re not,” she gently assured. “And I won’t leave someone out here in weather like this.”

You finally looked at her properly.

Really looked.

Your eyes were cautious, searching, weighing the offer and the intentions behind it. Natasha simply held your gaze, letting the answer be entirely yours to decide.

“…Okay,” you finally nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Natasha turned back toward the house, adjusting her pace so you could walk beside her without feeling rushed. She noticed how carefully you kept your distance, like you were afraid of taking up too much space.

“I’m Natasha,” she said after a moment.

“Y/n,” you replied. “Thank you. Truly. I—I promise I won’t stay long.”

Natasha glanced at you, taking in the curve of your mouth, the way rain traced the line of your jaw. There was something soft there beneath the fear, something quiet and guarded.

“Take all the time you need,”

Inside, the warmth of the fire wrapped around you immediately. Wood creaked softly as it settled, walls holding the storm at bay. The rain still hammered the roof, but here it was muted, distant.

You paused just inside the doorway.

Water pooled at your boots, darkening the worn floorboards. You stood there as if you’d crossed some invisible threshold you weren’t sure you were allowed to step over, hands fidgeting at your sides, fingers brushing the seams of your coat, then retreating again like you didn’t quite know where to put them.

Natasha noticed immediately.

“Go ahead,” she ushered gently, toeing off her own boots near the door. “You can come in.”

“I am in,” you said, head tilting slightly like it should’ve been obvious. Then your face flushed, heat creeping up your neck as if you’d misspoken. “I—sorry.”

Natasha ducked her head to hide a small smile, not wanting to draw attention to it. She set the lantern down on the table and glanced at the damp trail you’d left behind as you took a few tentative steps farther into the room, eyes scanning the space like you were memorizing exits.

“You’re soaked through. Let me grab you something dry.”

“Oh—no, that’s really not necessary,” you said all at once, words mushing together. “I don’t want to—I can just—”

“You’ll catch a cold,” Natasha interrupted softly. “And I’ve got plenty.”

You hesitated, eyes flicking toward the door like you might bolt if given even half a reason. The storm rattled the windows behind you, thunder rumbling again, and after a long moment you nodded.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

Natasha didn’t comment on the apology. She simply disappeared down the hall before it could settle too deeply between you.

She returned a moment later with a folded pair of clothes. Fresh but clearly well worn, fabric softened with use. She held them out without comment, not pushing them into your hands, just offering.

“You can change by the fire,” Natasha said. “Or I can step out.”

“No—I mean—the fire’s fine,” you decided quickly, then added, quieter, “If that’s alright with you.”

“It is.”

Natasha turned her back anyway.

She busied herself at the stove, filling the kettle with water, setting it to heat. The familiar motions grounded her. Hands steady, movements practiced. Behind her, she heard fabric shift, the soft sound of wet cloth being peeled away, the faint hitch of your breath as you tugged free of damp layers.

“You don’t have to rush,” Natasha told you quietly. “Take your time.”

She turned as she reached for the mugs, and caught more than she meant to.

Just a glimpse.

Firelight traced your bare skin before the cloth replaced it, the moment fleeting but unmistakable. Enough to see what the rain and darkness had hidden.

Bruises.

Faded yellows and greens along your ribs, older ones healing unevenly. Darker marks near your shoulder, newer, blooming deep and angry like they hadn’t yet been given time to recover. The pattern clearly wasn’t accidental.

Natasha looked away instantly, throat tightening as if she’d swallowed something sharp. She focused on the kettle, on the steam curling upward, on the way her fingers had gone rigid around the handle.

Someone had hurt you.

The realization settled heavy and cold in her chest, followed quickly by something else. Anger, sudden and protective, coiling low in her stomach.

She wouldn’t ask. Not now. Not when you stood just a few steps behind her, unaware you’d been seen, and finally trusting her just enough to let your guard waiver in the warmth.

When Natasha turned back, you stood awkwardly near the chair, clothes folded neatly in your arms like you weren’t sure what to do with them. Your hair still dripped slightly, as the heat of the fire coaxed the damp away.

Natasha poured the tea, hands steady despite the storm that had shifted inside her. She crossed the room and held the mug out. “Here, I’ll trade you.” she said, voice gentle and unchanged.

You stared at the mug for a brief moment, as if inspecting it, as if making sure it was truly meant for you. Then you handed the damp bundle of clothes over and accepted the tea with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“I’ll—I’ll give these back as soon as they’re dry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Natasha brushed off as she draped the wet clothes carefully over the backs of the kitchen chairs so they could air dry. “They’re just clothes.”

She took her own mug and moved to the couch, sinking into it with a soft exhale. The fire cast warm light across the room, shadows dancing lazily along the walls. When she glanced back up, she realized you hadn’t followed.

You stood exactly where Natasha had left you, tea held in both hands, shoulders tense, eyes flicking uncertainly between the chair and the door like you were weighing whether staying was a mistake.

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “You can sit,” she said. “Anywhere you like.”

You just blinked, surprised by the permission. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,”

You hovered another second before perching on the edge of the chair across from the couch, posture careful, like you were ready to spring up if asked.

The both of you sat in silence for a moment. The fire crackled softly. Rain tapped steady and rhythmic against the windows. The world felt smaller here, contained.

After a beat, Natasha spoke. “What had you out there tonight? Not many people come out this way, even on a sunny day.”

Your grip tightened around the mug. Your gaze dropped to the tea, watching the steam rise and disappear.

“I—” you hesitated, breath catching, the word stalling before it could become anything solid.

Natasha saw it immediately. The tension snapping tight, the way your body began closing in on itself.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha apologized. “You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” you said quickly, lifting your head. “It’s—it’s okay. Really.”

You swallowed, shoulders curling inward just a little. “I just needed to get away for a bit. Things got…overwhelming.”

Natasha only nodded, choosing not to press. “That happens.”

You glanced up at her then, tentative, as if testing the space between you. When Natasha didn’t push, didn’t pry, something in you seemed to loosen, just a fraction.

You took another sip of tea, then yawned. The sound was small, involuntary. You flushed immediately, lifting a hand like you could apologize it away.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” Natasha chuckled softly. She leaned forward, setting her mug on the table. “You look exhausted.”

You shrugged, but the motion lacked conviction. Your eyes were heavy now, blinking slower, the adrenaline finally draining away.

“You can stay the night,” she said, already standing. “Storm’s nowhere near done yet, and you’re in no shape to walk anywhere.”

“Oh—I couldn’t take your bed—”

“I wasn’t offering it,” Natasha replied, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “Couch is more than comfortable. There are extra blankets in the chest.”

She crossed the room and pulled them out. Thick quilts, softened with years of use, smelling faintly of soap and woodsmoke. She set them within easy reach, careful not to crowd you.

“I’ll be down the hall,” Natasha added. “If you need anything. Water. Food. Or if you just can’t sleep.”

You looked at the blankets, then up at Natasha. Something quiet and grateful flickered across your face.

“Thank you,”

Natasha nodded once, letting that be enough. She dimmed the lantern, leaving only the firelight, and gave you the space you clearly needed for the night.

~ ~

The morning came gently.

You woke to warmth first.

The weight of blankets pressed reassuringly over your body, heavy in a way that felt comforting rather than confining. The fire in the hearth had burned low overnight, embers glowing dull red beneath a thin layer of ash, giving off just enough heat to keep the chill away.

For a few quiet seconds, you lay there disoriented, staring at the ceiling, unsure where you were or why you didn’t even feel the need to run despite the uncertainty.

Then the smell reached you.

Rich. Savory. Salty.

The house creaked softly as it settled, old wood stretching and relaxing with the coziness of the morning.

From the kitchen came the low, steady clink of a pan, metal meeting metal, followed by the unmistakable sound of sizzling. The rhythm of it was unhurried yet purposeful.

You pushed yourself upright slowly, as if moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile calm had found you. The blankets slid down to your waist, and sunlight filtered through the window, pale and clean after the storm, dust motes drifting lazily through it as it painted the room in warm gold.

For a moment, you simply sat there.

Taking it in.

Natasha stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, hair pulled back and out of her face. She moved easily, like this was a morning she’d lived a hundred times and expected to live a hundred more.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of you.

“Morning,” she greeted, voice warm as she gave a small smile. “Hope you’re hungry. I’ve got bacon and eggs.”

Something in your chest jumped sharply at the casual kindness of it.

But then as it sank in, your feet hit the floor almost immediately.

“Oh—I can help,” you said quickly, already crossing the room before Natasha could turn back to the pan. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late, I can—just tell me what to do.”

Natasha turned fully then, taking in the way you hovered, already braced for instruction or correction. She noticed the way your hands twisted together, fingers worrying at each other like they needed something to hold onto.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Natasha said gently. “I’ve got it. It’s okay.”

“But I should—” you started, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t want to just—sit around—”

Natasha softened her voice even further, lowering it so it didn’t feel like a command. “Just sit. Eat. That’s all I need from you.”

She held your gaze when she said it, steady and unflinching, offering certainty without pressure.

You hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to the table, then back to Natasha, like you were waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, your shoulders eased just a fraction.

“…Okay,” you agreed.

You moved to the table and sat, posture careful, knees drawn in slightly beneath the chair. Natasha watched you for a moment longer than necessary, something warm and unfamiliar stirring in her chest.

A pull. A need to make sure the chair was comfortable, the food was filling, the silence wasn’t too uneasy.

She turned back to the stove before you could catch her staring.

The bacon crackled softly as she plated it, the eggs steaming and cooked to perfection. She paused, then added a little extra to your plate before setting it down in front of you.

“Here,” she said. “Eat.”

You stared at the plate like it might vanish if you didn’t focus hard enough. “Thank you,” you murmured, then picked up the fork with careful deliberation.

Natasha took her own seat across from you, resting her elbows lightly on the table. She didn’t eat right away. She watched instead. Subtle, unobtrusive.

Observing the way you took your first bite, the way your eyes fluttered closed for half a second before you caught yourself and straightened.

“How’d you sleep?” Natasha asked.

You paused, fork hovering midair. “Um…good,” you said after a moment. Then quieter, like the truth was still surprising you, “Better than I expected.”

Natasha smiled faintly at that, something easing in her chest. “Good.”

You ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, punctuated only by the scrape of cutlery and the low pop of the dying fire. Outside, the farm gleamed clean and fresh, puddles reflecting the pale sky.

“I’ve got a few things to do today,” she said casually, more to fill the space than anything else. “Fence needs checking after the storm. Horses will be restless. Fanny too. She hates it when routine gets disrupted.”

You nodded along, but Natasha noticed the way your movements slowed, the way your gaze dropped to your plate. Something closed off again, subtle but unmistakable.

Natasha leaned back slightly. “You don’t have to go anywhere,” she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Not today. Not tomorrow. You can stay as long as you need.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “I couldn’t—”

“You can,” Natasha protested gently. “And you don’t owe me anything for it.”

The words seemed to settle slowly, but before you could respond, a knock came sharp and sudden, a solid rap against the door that cut clean through the quiet of the kitchen.

Natasha looked up first, rising from her chair. It was early for visitors, especially this far out. She wiped her hands once on a towel and crossed the room, steps unhurried even as her attention sharpened.

Natasha reached the door and pulled it open.

Cool morning air spilled inside along with the scent of damp earth. An older man stood on the porch, hat in his hands, coat still darkened with rain from the night before. His eyes were sharp, scanning past Natasha almost immediately, lingering just a beat too long on the interior of the house.

“Good morning,” he said. Polite. Measured. “Sorry to bother you so early.”

“Oh, that’s alright. What can I do for you, sir?” Natasha replied evenly.

The man shifted his weight, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. “I was wondering if you might’ve seen a young woman passing through here. Would’ve been walking. Came through sometime last night.”

It wasn’t the words that caught your attention.

It was the voice.

Behind Natasha, a chair scraped softly.

You went rigid.

The color drained from your face so fast it was almost startling. Your fingers tightened on the edge of the table, knuckles blanching as if you needed something solid to keep yourself anchored. You didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

You just shook your head.

Once. Twice.

Barely noticeable, but unmistakable.

Natasha saw it out of the corner of her eye.

Saw the fear, raw and unfiltered, flash across your face like you’d been struck. Saw the way your shoulders curled inward, like you were bracing for impact.

That was all the answer Natasha needed.

“No,” she said calmly, maintaining her composure. “Haven’t seen anyone.”

The man studied her. His gaze stayed on her face for a long moment, searching, like he didn’t want to believe her. Natasha met his stare without blinking.

Finally, he nodded once. “Alright. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Safe travels,” Natasha said, forcing a kind smile.

He hesitated another second on the threshold, eyes flicking past her shoulder one last time, then stepped back. His boots thudded softly against the porch as he turned and walked away, disappearing down the path.

Natasha closed the door slowly.

Only when the latch slid into place did she turn around.

You were still seated, hands clenched in your lap now, chest rising and falling too quickly. Your eyes were fixed on the door like you expected it to open again at any second.

The breath shuddered out of you, thin and uneven, like it had been trapped in your lungs the entire time.

Natasha didn’t rush toward you.

She moved back to the table and sat down slowly, deliberately, like she was trying not to spook a skittish animal. The chair dragged softly against the floorboards, and she rested her forearms on the table, leaving space between you. Close enough to be present, but not too close to feel intimidating.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Your breathing began to even out, though your fingers were still curled tight in your lap, nails digging into fabric. Your gaze stayed fixed on the door, like part of you was standing on the other side of it.

Natasha waited until the tension eased just a fraction.

Then she spoke.

“Do you mind telling me who that man was?” her voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness beneath it.

Not suspicion. Not accusation. But real concern.

You winced anyway.

Your shoulders drew in, chin tucking slightly, eyes dropping to the table as if the wood grain suddenly required your full attention. You swallowed once. Then again.

“I—” your voice faltered. You cleared your throat. “That’s Dreykov. He…he owns a place in town.”

Natasha didn’t interrupt. She didn’t fill the silence. She simply nodded once, encouraging you to keep going without demanding it.

“It’s called The Red Room,” you continued quietly.

Something shifted behind Natasha’s eyes.

She knew the name.

Anyone within a day’s ride knew The Red Room.

Officially, it was a saloon. Whiskey, cards, music drifting out into the street. It looked ordinary enough if you weren’t looking too hard. Unofficially, it was something else entirely. The kind of place people went to get lucky with the pretty bartenders, and to forget their spouses for a night.

Natasha had passed it before on supply runs she didn’t like to linger on.

She kept her expression neutral.

“I see.” she said evenly.

Your fingers tightened again. “I…work there.”

The word came out wrong. Too flat. Like something you’d practiced saying just in case someone would ask.

Natasha’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “Work how?”

You hesitated, breath stalling in your chest. When you spoke again, it was soft and careful. “I pour drinks,” you explained. “I talk to people. I…I do what I’m told.”

You didn’t look up.

Natasha didn’t push for more. She didn’t need to. The picture painted itself in between the pauses, the bruises, the fear that had hollowed you out at the sound of one man’s voice.

“And you owe him.” Natasha said. It wasn’t a question.

You nodded.

“Yes.”

The word was barely audible.

“For room and board,” you added quickly, like you needed to justify it. “For food. For taking me in when I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Your shoulders rose defensively, preparing for judgment.

It never came.

Natasha leaned back slightly, inhaling through her nose, grounding herself before she spoke again. Anger simmered low and steady in her chest at the situation you were put in.

“And he came looking for you.” she continued calmly.

You nodded again, tears gathering but not falling. “He doesn’t like it when people leave without permission.”

Natasha held your gaze now, steady and unflinching. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. He doesn’t own you.”

Your breath hitched at that. Your eyes finally lifted, searching Natasha’s face like you were waiting for the sentence to finish. To twist, to take itself back.

It didn’t.

Natasha continued, quieter but no less firm. “And if he comes back here, that becomes my problem too.”

Your eyes widened. “I don’t want to put you in any danger—”

“You didn’t.” Natasha reassured immediately. “But I just need to know what I’m dealing with.” She paused, then added, “And I need you to know that you don’t owe him anything.”

You pressed your lips together, a single tear finally slipping free and tracking down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, embarrassed, but Natasha pretended not to notice.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Natasha nodded once and a silence fell between you. Not heavy. Not uncomfortable. Just space. The kind you give a wound so it can breathe instead of being pressed and prodded. The fire crackled softly behind you, and outside, the morning carried on as if nothing in the world had shifted at all.

Natasha broke the quiet first, her voice natural in a way that made you feel more relaxed. “I’ll be heading out for a bit. Firewood needs hauling, and that fence won’t fix itself.”

You nodded, your eyes still fixed on the table. It was easier than looking at Natasha after that. “I can help—”

“You can rest,” Natasha cut in gently. “And that’s not a request.”

You huffed a small, embarrassed laugh, the sound thin but genuine, and finally glanced up. “Okay.”

Natasha stood, gathering the plates from breakfast, and began to clear the table. She moved with a quiet awareness of you the entire time. Not watching you outright, but keeping track of you in the way one does with something fragile without wanting it to feel suffocated.

You remained seated for a while, then eventually curled up on the couch, blankets pulled around your shoulders like you were still unsure you’d earned the comfort.

Fanny trotted over not long after, nails clicking softly against the floorboards. She paused, glanced once at Natasha for permission, then hopped up with a low huff and circled before settling beside you. You startled at first, then relaxed when the dog pressed her warm weight against your side.

“Oh,” you murmured, surprised. Your hand hovered uncertainly above Fanny’s head before resting there, tentative at first, then firmer as the dog leaned into the touch.

Natasha watched from the doorway.

Something in her chest eased at the sight. Your shoulders lowering, your breathing slowing as Fanny anchored you to the present in a way words couldn’t.

Still, beneath that easing sat a tight, restless knot. The man’s voice. The way you had gone still. The knowledge that danger didn’t disappear just because a door had been closed.

When Natasha finally stepped outside, the air smelled clean, scrubbed raw by the storm. She split wood with measured force, the steady rhythm grounding, but her thoughts refused to settle. She kept seeing your bruises in firelight, hearing the apology woven into every sentence you spoke.

Inside, you listened to the sounds of work drifting through the walls. The thud of an axe. The creak of wood. The world continuing to spin despite you.

Guilt gnawed at you.

Natasha had offered safety without hesitation, comfort without expectation. And already, you had brought danger to her door. You could still hear the man’s voice, polite, probing, and imagine him returning, less patient next time. The thought of Natasha having to handle that because of you made your stomach twist.

This wasn’t permanent. You knew that. It couldn’t be.

Natasha had her farm, her animals, her quiet life carved out with care. You didn’t belong in it. Not when you carried so much baggage with you.

You moved slowly, quietly, and changed back into your own clothes. The familiar fabric was rougher, colder, after the borrowed warmth of Natasha’s. You folded the clothes Natasha had given you with careful precision, smoothing out every crease, aligning edges until they sat just right.

At the kitchen table, you set them down neatly. Then you hesitated, fingers hovering, before finding a scrap of paper. The note you left was simple. Too simple, maybe.

Thank you.

You paused at the door, taking one last look at the space you’d finally been allowed to feel the safest you’d felt in forever.

Fanny noticed you first. The dog lifted her head, ears perking, tail giving a hopeful thump against the floor, then stopping when you reached for the door. A low whine slipped from her throat, confused and unhappy.

“I know,” you whispered, crouching just long enough to brush your fingers through the thick fur along Fanny’s back. “I’m sorry.”

Fanny followed you to the threshold, whining again as you stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind you. The sound lingered even after you started down the path, a thin, aching thread tugging at your chest.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

By the time Natasha returned inside to fetch a coil of rope a couple hours later, the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

The couch was empty. The blankets folded back neatly. Fanny lifted her head, ears pricking, tail thumping once against the floor before stalling.

Natasha’s gaze drifted to the kitchen table where the clothes she’d lent you were folded and stacked ever so carefully. Beside them lay a small scrap of paper, the edges torn unevenly.

Natasha picked it up.

Thank you.

Her chest tightened. Not with anger or blame. But something heavier. Worry. Something she hadn’t expected to feel for you, who had trusted her, however briefly it was.

She sank into a chair, hands brushing over the note, reading and rereading the words. The brevity didn’t lessen the weight. Fanny padded closer, nudging Natasha’s knee with her damp nose. Natasha’s fingers absently scratched behind the dog’s ears, and for a moment, the quiet pressed against her chest.

The emptiness of the house, the idea that you had returned to a place that would demand more from you than Natasha could protect you from. She allowed herself to hope that you might come back. That you might need her again. That you might, somehow, be willing to let her in.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Port In The Storm

Pairing: Farmer!Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After finding you outside her farm in the middle of a thunderstorm, cold and skittish, Natasha takes you in and gives you a place to stay. You begin to form an unexpected bond, but you know all good things are never permanent for you. Natasha can only hope you decide to trust her enough to let her in, and you can only hope you’re able to overcome your fear enough to do so.

Authors Note: New year, new AU! This has been in the works for a solid month, so I’m excited it’s almost done and I get to share it!

Main Story

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

—————

Additional Parts

Coming soon…

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Safe

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: When you are taken, Natasha has to be your knight instead of your girlfriend.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: Kidnapping | Injuries | Blood | Weapons

Authors Note: This is another oneshot connected to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

Authors Note Pt 2: Not sure how this ended up being so long but I hope ya’ll enjoy lol

Other Oneshots: Forever | Promise | Perfect | Enamored

(Takes place at around 18 years old, after Natasha completes her training in the main story: Soulmates)

The corridor was quiet and dim, a pocket of stolen silence in a castle otherwise alive with clattering footsteps, distant laughter, and the resonance of violins warming up. You’d slipped away under the excuse of fixing your gown, but really, you just needed one more moment with her before the night swallowed you both in obligations and duties.

You leaned back against the wall, the heavy fabric of your dress brushing your ankles as Natasha stepped closer. Her polished armor caught what little light slipped through the hall, but her eyes, those soft, steady eyes, were all on you.

“You know,” she murmured with her signature smirk, arms folding across her chest. “Most Princesses would be greeting their guests or rehearsing their speech right about now.”

You arched a brow at her, lips curving into a grin. “And most knights would be ready at their assigned posts. Not sneaking away with said princess.”

Natasha’s mouth twitched like she wanted to argue, but instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if weighing the thought for a brief moment. “Fair point.” she admitted, her voice low, tinged with amusement.

You caught her hand before she could think about pulling away, threading your fingers through hers. “But in my defense, you make it very difficult to focus on those things looking like that.”

She wasn’t wearing anything special, just her usual uniform. Her hair was pulled back into a singular braid, baby hairs escaping to frame her face in a way that was unfairly perfect.

Natasha’s mouth curved, but her tone was softer than her smirk suggested. “You always say that like I’m the one distracting you when really it’s the other way around.”

Your chest gave a little flutter at that. You let your gaze linger on her. On the familiar lines of her face, the steady warmth in her eyes, until she reached up, brushing a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear with feather light care.

Your hand rose almost without thinking, sliding to the back of her neck, pulling her just close enough that your lips met hers. It was slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that made the quiet corridor feel like the only place in the world.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting briefly against hers, Natasha’s eyes searched your face with that same quiet intensity she always carried. She let out a soft hum, her hand still lingering at your cheek.

“You’re nervous.” she murmured.

Not accusing, just observing.

Like she’d felt it in the way your lips had trembled ever so slightly against hers, or how your shoulders hadn’t quite relaxed in her arms. But then again, she always seemed to notice the things you hid well from others.

You let out a quiet breath, though your stomach did twist anxiously. “A little. First event I’ve planned on my own. I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

Natasha tilted her head knowingly, almost offended that you’d ever doubt yourself so much. “You haven’t forgotten anything,” she stated simply. “And even if you have, no one would notice. They’ll be too busy looking at you.”

You felt your face heat up at that, rolling your eyes.

“Careful. Keep talking like that and I might start to think you’re in love with me or something.”

Her gaze didn’t waver for a second. “Maybe you should.” she said softly, leaning down to you again, her lips firmer against yours this time.

She lingered longer, like she wanted to kiss away every negative thought you were having about tonight. The familiar strength and warmth of her made your chest loosen, the nervous knots easing by the seconds.

Natasha’s hands had migrated down to brush against the fabric of your dress before settling on your waist, while yours found purchase at the nape of her neck. But just as you were melting fully into her, a familiar voice carried down the corridor.

“Y/n, sweetheart?”

You stiffened, lips still hovering dangerously close to Natasha’s. Your mother’s heels clicked steadily against the marble as she approached. By the time she came into view, you and Natasha had parted, but just barely. And not nearly enough.

When her gaze landed on the two of you, she halted in her tracks, her expression somewhere along the lines of resigned and baffled. “Of course. I should have known.”

“Mother,” you greeted, a bit too quickly, though your lips still curved with the remnants of a forced smile.

She crossed her arms and breathed out a long sigh, like she’d just caught a child sneaking candy. “Honestly, I should start scheduling extra time before events just to account for the two of you hiding away in corners.”

“Mother I—” you began, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“Not the time for excuses, darling. Your lips are redder than roses, and your hair—” she gestured pointedly, “—looks as if someone’s been running their hands through it. I don’t suppose I need to ask who.”

You flushed instantly, dropping your gaze, but your mother only gave a small shake of her head, “Go. Freshen up. Then get yourself out to the ballroom immediately, please.”

Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, the kind that invited no argument. The corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her faint amusement, before she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving you and Natasha in the quiet corridor once again.

You let out a long breath, pressing your forehead against Natasha’s chest. “She’s going to tease me about this for weeks.”

Natasha chuckled softly, her hand still warm at your waist. “She’s right, by the way. Your hair’s a mess.” her fingers brushed quickly at it, only making it worse, and the two of you broke into quiet laughter.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The ballroom of the castle had never looked more radiant. Light from the golden chandeliers spilled across the freshly polished marble floors, catching the glitter of jeweled gowns and the gleam of finely polished knight armor.

Banners bearing your family’s crest hung proudly from the high walls, and long banquet tables groaned beneath the weight of delicacies bought from the finest places across the kingdom.

The first ever event you planned entirely on your own, and despite the nerves dancing in your stomach, you held your chin high.

Weeks of preparation had led to this night. The kingdom’s annual charity event expanded into something greater. An opportunity for neighboring kingdoms to gather, negotiate, and contribute to relief efforts for struggling villages after a harsh winter.

Your parents had agreed to let you take the reins on this one, and now every pair of eyes seemed to be on you.

You stepped forward, breath caught in your chest. The hush was absolute, and for a heartbeat, your mind went blank. But then you found Natasha across the room. Her crimson hair was unmistakable and instantly drew your eyes to her.

She was stationed close enough to see, but just far enough to blend in with the other guards. Her posture was perfect and she looked every inch the knight she had been trained to be since childhood, but her eyes were fixed only on you,

It was grounding. Comforting.

“Good evening everyone,” you started, your voice steadying as you spoke. “This gathering marks something very dear to me. For the first time, I have been trusted with the privilege of arranging this event on behalf of my family, and I can only hope I did not disappoint my mother.” you added the last bit for comedic relief to cope with the nerves running through your veins.

Laughter and chuckles erupted in the ballroom at the comment, easing your anxieties just a little.

“My wish tonight is not only for aid to reach the towns who need it most, but that the bonds between us and every community here will grow stronger.” you glanced amongst the audience briefly before finishing. “We are stronger together than apart, and I hope we never forget that.”

Applause and cheers rippled through the room, though your mother and fathers smiles and approving nods meant more than any clapping could.

As you stepped back, Natasha shifted ever so slightly in her stance. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but her eyes softened in a way they never did when she was on duty.

Pride.

For you, for what you managed to pull off tonight, and probably for everything you’ve ever accomplished.

The kind that only she would ever allow herself to show you, even if it was hidden behind the steel of her armor and training.

The music began then, the piano and violins swelling as dancers swept onto the floor. Guests mingled, glasses clinked, and servants carried trays of wine and appetizers between groups.

Conversations buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter. You drifted among them, greeting people warmly, kindly accepting compliments about the event's elegance, and answering questions about the relief efforts.

At one point, your aunt had caught your hand and gave it a soft squeeze to gain your attention, leaning in so you could hear her better. “You’re doing a really good thing here, darling. I am so very proud of you.” she said, and the satisfaction you’d already felt simply grew.

Then at another, an older noble chimed in during a later conversation. “This is all very admirable, Your Highness, sure. But do you really think you can handle matters of state better than your father?”

You did find that question a bit out of pocket, but addressed it the same as you did others with a steady smile

As the night went on, you found yourself near the refreshment tables, where Lady Hill approached, her teeth glinting in the candlelight as she grinned at you.

“Your Highness,” she said smoothly, bowing low and gently bringing your hand to her lips for a polite peck. “It is nice to finally see someone take matters into their own hands. You’ve given this kingdom a fine future to look forward to.”

You smiled at the commendation, but pulled your hand out of hers to grab a glass of wine from the table. Even though you couldn’t see her, you knew your girlfriend had her eyes on you and didn’t want her to have another reason to punch the woman in the nose.

Mostly for Natasha’s reputation, but also Maria’s safety.

“Well thank you, Maria. I’m glad to see my goals are being achieved so efficiently.” you responded, and the noble gave a wink before taking her own drink and drifting away.

From across the room, Natasha’s eyes followed the woman, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

Steve Rogers, standing a few steps away with his hands folded neatly behind his back, allowed himself a small smirk. “The Princess sure is making quite the impression tonight, huh?”

“She always does.” Natasha kept her composure, but her displeasure at Lady Hill’s little stunt was evident in her voice. “But she’s handling herself and that’s all that matters.”

It’s no secret to anyone that you were an impressive woman, but Natasha trusted you wholeheartedly and didn’t mind having to ward off some unwanted attraction towards you every once in a while if it meant being the one you chose.

The night pressed on smoothly, filled with laughter, dancing, and clinking glasses. It felt, for the first time, like you were truly stepping into your role. Not just as a daughter of the crown, but as a leader in your own right.

Eventually, you ran into your mother and father again. Your mother’s hand was light on your arm as she stopped you, her voice light and energetic.

“Sweetheart, have you had the chance to speak with the Duke of Asgard yet?” she asked, gesturing to the man beside her. “He’s been waiting for a word with you, and it would do well for him to see the future of this kingdom is as gracious as it is capable.”

Your father gave you an encouraging nod, though his smile carried a hint of teasing as he bent down to murmur in your ear. “Don’t keep him too long, though. That man could talk the ears off a statue.”

You suppressed a sigh and nodded, smiling kindly at the Duke and holding out your hand for him to shake. “Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Your mother patted your shoulder, satisfied, and your parents drifted back into the crowd of nobles, leaving you near the edge of the ballroom.

It was then that a waiter approached, his tray balanced effortlessly in one hand, glinting crystal glasses filled with pale gold wine arranged neatly upon it. He bowed his head respectfully as he held the tray closer.

“Your Highness,” he greeted with an almost too kind smile. “Might I offer you a drink?”

You hesitated only briefly considering you’d already had a couple, before taking one of the glasses, murmuring a polite thank you. The stem felt cool between your fingers as you lifted it to your lips.

The waiter lingered a fraction too long, giving a small, practiced smile that made the hairs on the back of Natasha’s neck stand up.

Her instincts flared instantly, subtle but undeniable. Something wasn’t right.

At first, you thought it was the heat of the chandeliers, the press of bodies in the ballroom. You lifted a hand to your temple, brushing it off with another polite smile when the Duke, who you learned was named Thor, commented on your sudden paleness.

But as you swallowed another mouthful, a strange warmth began to pool low in your stomach. Your limbs felt a tad heavier, your balance faltering ever so slightly.

Steadying yourself, you blinked, and for the briefest moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of Natasha across the room through the crowd, her gaze flicking to you with that same sharp attention she always carried when it came to your well being.

You forced yourself to offer her a faint smile, as though to say ‘I’m fine’, before turning back toward the man droning in your ear. Yet, even as you nodded along, the edges of your vision began to blur. The sound of violins swelled, louder than it had a moment before, pressing insistently against your skull.

You lifted the glass again in a half hearted attempt to cover your unease, but the scent of the wine now carried a pungent bite that made your throat tighten.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Thor asked, clearly concerned. Though his face seemed distant, features melting into indistinct shapes as you struggled to focus.

“I—yes,” you murmured, setting the glass on a nearby table with more force than you intended. The stem clinked hard against the wood, drawing a few curious glances.

A thin sheen of sweat began to bead at the back of your neck. You took a step backward, intending to excuse yourself, but the ground seemed to tilt unnaturally, as though the entire hall had shifted beneath you. The chatter around you suddenly sounded muffled, then too sharp, like a chorus of overlapping voices you couldn’t quite understand.

You felt the pulse pounding in your neck.

Too fast. Too heavy.

And through it all, you could feel her gaze, unrelenting, unblinking. Natasha hadn’t moved from her post, but it was as though she’d sensed the exact moment your body betrayed you.

She noticed before you even reached her. Your stride was wrong. Clearly too loose, too wavering. Your usually poised posture was broken, shoulders sagging, mouth parted as though forming half words.

“Princess?” Natasha broke formation, abandoning her post and moving to meet you halfway. Fury might scold her later, but in that moment her gut feeling overruled every protocol that was drilled into her brain.

You didn’t know when your steps had veered toward her, only that Natasha’s presence was suddenly all around you. The scent that was hers alone engulfed your senses as you stumbled forward, your body nearly collapsing against the solidness of her chest.

Natasha caught you firmly, single handedly holding you upright.

“Y/n,” she whispered urgently, keeping her voice low to avoid causing a panic. “Look at me. What happened?”

Your lips parted and Natasha bent closer, trying to decipher what you were saying, but only mumbles came out. Slurred syllables, almost childlike.

Her hands were steady on your arm and back as she began to guide you gently toward a quieter corridor. “Ok, you’re okay,” she murmured, voice low and comforting despite her own uncertainty. “You’re just a little lightheaded. I’ve got you, princess.”

The room spun as you followed her, your legs trembling slightly. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the warmth in your chest now mingled with a creeping panic.

“Nat…” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I don’t…I don’t feel good.”

Natasha’s chest tightened. “I know. Just keep walking. I’m right here.” she swept her gaze over your face.

The unfocused eyes, the sluggish breathing, the slight tremor in your hands.

Drugged. Her intuition, strengthened by years of training, screamed it.

Before you could take another step, a servant halted you in your tracks, his voice laced with a false concern and practiced smoothness. Natasha caught it immediately.

His hands twitched toward your arm too quickly, too eager. “She must have had a little too much to drink,” he chuckled, stepping forward. “I can take her up to her chambers, if you’d like.”

Natasha’s hand tightened on your arm, pulling you slightly behind her. “No,” she said firmly, scanning the room with meticulous movements. “I’ve got her.”

Her eyes swept the hall, but the crowd was too dense, too loud. Where was Steve? Or Clint? Where were the other guards stationed?

The servant’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. A subtle calculation that left Natasha feeling uneasy.

And in that instant, before Natasha could react fully, another figure emerged from the pool of guests. Quick, precise, and practiced. One movement, and suddenly, you were being ripped from Natasha’s grip, and pulled through the oblivious crowd.

Natasha’s hand shot out after you, fingers grazing air. “Y/n!” Her voice tore across the ballroom, panicked and too loud, too desperate for a guard who was supposed to blend seamlessly into the background.

A few heads turned at the sound, confusion rippling amongst guests nearby as Natasha shoved her way through the crowd, searching, but you were already gone.

She spun around almost aimlessly, her eyes scanning the ballroom. Nothing. No flash of your gown. No sign of the figure who had taken you.

In a split second decision, her boots hit the ground hard, making a direct line for the head of the Royal Guard. Her armor clinked with each hurried step, her presence earning startled looks as she pushed past the line of guards who hadn’t yet realized anything was wrong.

Commander Fury stood at the far end of the hall near the podium, his eyebrow already raising at her rapid approach.

“Sir,” Natasha hissed the moment she reached him, voice tight with urgency. “The Princess has been taken.”

Fury’s one good eye stared her down for the briefest moment, his jaw clenching, but he didn’t waste time questioning. His voice carried across the hall, firm and commanding at the other guards.

“Lock this castle down. Now!”

The shift was immediate and the music shattered as guards posted along the walls snapped into motion.

Clint swung down from his post on the balcony, landing with a steady thud before adjusting the bow on his shoulder. He pushed through the crowd, his eyes sweeping the room with focus, and fell into step beside Fury.

Steve had already stepped forward, voice carrying authority as he barked orders at the nearest, younger guards. “Secure every door in this castle. Nobody leaves until we’ve accounted for everyone.” they scrambled to obey, passing on the message to other guards.

Natasha didn’t move at first, her eyes fixed on the place where she’d last seen you. Her chest was tight, her hands trembling ever so slightly where they curled into fists.

Then she forced herself into motion, shoving through the sea of people until she reached Fury’s side again. Clint and Steve were already there, their expressions grim.

Fury focused on Natasha, his tone lowering but no less sharp. “Romanoff, you’re going to walk me through every damn detail you noticed. Every face, every move, everything.”

Natasha’s mind replayed the moment in agonizing clarity. Your weight in her arms, the way your eyes had fluttered, unfocused, the slick hand that had yanked you away before she could draw a breath. She swallowed down the rising panic and squared her shoulders as she stood in front of her commander.

“The Princess came to me. She was completely out of it. Drugged, I suspected. I tried to get her away from the public, but a servant distracted me and someone else took her.”

The words scraped against her tongue, every syllable laced with guilt, but she had to say it if they were going to find you.

“They were quick, precise. Like they knew exactly what they were doing.”

Clint was already eyeing the servants lingering near the walls with suspicion, his hand adjusting the bow slung over his shoulder. “They must’ve slipped in with the catering staff. A big event like this, too many new faces.”

Fury’s jaw tightened as he swept his gaze across the room. He was running through every possible angle.

Entry points, blind spots, guard placements, anything that would give him even a hint of where you’d been dragged. Time was ticking. If they didn’t get a direction now, you’d be gone before they—

“Fury!”

A voice boomed across the ballroom, deep and commanding enough that the entire room seemed to pause. Fury turned.

The King and Queen were cutting across the floor toward him.

Your mother moved quickly, though her steps were shaky, her hand clenched around the pendant at her throat like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her face was pale, eyes scanning every corner as if you might be hiding behind a column or tucked under one of the tables.

Your father, on the other hand, had the kind of anger that came from fear. Stiff shoulders, clenched fists, jaw locked so tight Fury could practically hear the grind of his teeth.

“What is going on?” the king snapped again, breath short. “Where is our daughter?”

Fury didn’t flinch. He’d seen this reaction from parents before. Ones who didn’t have the power to command a country, but the same fear lived in all of them.

“Your Majesties,” he said, calm and steady. “The Princess has been taken.”

Your mother sucked in a shaky breath, covering her mouth with her free hand. She looked like her knees might give out.

“But I promise you,” Fury continued quickly, “we are doing everything we can to get her back.”

The King stepped closer, eyes sharp with panic. “Then why aren’t you already—”

“That’s why I need to go,” Fury cut in gently but firmly. “In order to find her, I can’t be standing here explaining what we don’t know yet. My team is already acting, and every second counts.”

Your father stared at him, his breath coming unevenly, his chest rising and falling too fast for a man who was trying desperately to stay composed. After a long moment, he gave a tight nod.

Your mother reached out and touched Fury’s arm, not commanding, just pleading. “Please,” she said. “Bring her back to us.”

Fury softened only a fraction. “We will.”

Then he was on the move again, already switching back into the ruthless, precise focus he needed with Steve, Clint, and Natasha hot on his heels.

“Rogers, get the outer guards on every gate and checkpoint. I want the exits sealed and the perimeter covered. No one in, no one out.”

Steve nodded once, already moving to relay the command.

“Barton,” Fury continued. “Take the upper floors. Balconies, rafters, anywhere someone could’ve hidden to watch the Princess’s movements. If they had eyes on her, I want them found.”

Clint gave a curt nod before jogging off toward the stairs, two younger guards falling in step behind him.

Fury finally turned to Natasha. “Romanoff, take the lower halls. Check servant routes, kitchens, storage, any passage that leads outside. If they’ve got her out of the ballroom, they’re headed for an exit.”

The redhead straightened, expression unreadable but her eyes dark with urgency. “ Yes, sir.”

“Move,” Fury barked, and within seconds, the grand ballroom had erupted into motion. Knights fanned out through the castle, guests being ushered aside.

The celebration had turned into a lockdown.

Natasha was already headed for the servants corridors, her pulse drumming in her ears as the sound of the closing doors echoed like thunder through the castle walls.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your body didn’t feel like your own.

Your legs hung uselessly, dangling in the air as the man carrying you adjusted his grip under your knees. Your head lolled against his shoulder, every movement making your skull throb in slow, nauseating pulses. The voices around you blurred together, low, hurried, panicked, but pieces of them still cut through.

“Keep her still.”

“We don’t have time for this. Move.”

“Where the hell is Ronan? He should’ve cleared the way by now.”

Your eyelids fluttered. The world swayed sideways, then righted itself, then tilted again. Someone jostled you, and your stomach lurched. Everything felt smeared at the edges, drifting.

But even half conscious, your body recognized one thing.

You were in danger.

Your fingers twitched. Then curled. They found the soft fabric of the man’s tunic. You tried to push off of him, not even close to effectively, but enough that he grunted and readjusted. You didn’t know what you were doing, you just knew you had to do something.

“Stop—moving—” the man carrying you hissed, adjusting your weight as you kicked weakly against his thigh.

“Knock her out if you have to. We’re already behind schedule.”

That voice belonged to someone ahead, the leader, probably, judging by the tone. He walked a few paces ahead, dark coat swaying with each hurried step as he pushed open a side door into a narrow passageway.

You felt the shift in air immediately.

Cooler. Stale. Less perfumed than the ballroom.

Servant corridors.

His words sparked something in you. Fear, panic, adrenaline. You gathered what little strength you had and twisted, jerking your head forward and sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder.

He shouted a sharp, startled sound and jerked violently, nearly dropping you completely.

“You little—”

His hand came down fast.

Crack.

A sharp, ringing pain exploded across your cheek, and your head whipped to the side. Your vision doubled, then blurred entirely. Blood filled your mouth, metallic and warm, sliding down your lip. You felt something drip from your nose, thicker, warmer, and hit the marble floor with a soft, wet tap.

The men didn’t pause.

“Enough,” the leader snapped sharply. “Save your tantrums for when we’re not about to get caught.”

“Then tell her to stop moving!”

“We can’t ask her, can we? Just get her downstairs.”

They rounded another corner, plunging deeper into the bowels of the castle. The air grew colder. Damper. The lighting dimmed, flickering from torches rather than chandeliers. Your head knocked against the man’s shoulder with each descending step down the narrow staircase.

Wine cellars.

Even in your hazy state, the scent gave it away. Oak, dust, sweetness from aging barrels.

The men pushed into the wider cellar room, shadows stretching long across the floor. Rows of barrels lined along the walls. Racks of old bottles glimmered faintly. And at the far end a reinforced wooden door.

The escape route.

One of the men ran for it immediately, grabbing the iron handle and yanking hard.

It didn’t budge.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

“What?” he hissed, rattling the lever like it might suddenly submit out of fear. “It was supposed to be open.”

“Maybe Ronan got delayed,” another man said.

“Or caught,” the third muttered.

The leader shoved past his men to reach the cellar door, mumbling a string of curses under his breath as he grabbed the iron handle, ready to set fire to whoever in his team screwed up, but then the lock clicked from the other side.

A second later, the door eased open.

A man stood there, breathless, hair disheveled like he’d sprinted the whole way. Ronan.

“You’re late,” the leader snapped.

Ronan didn’t flinch. “Nearly got caught disabling the lock. The guards started sweeping early.” His eyes flicked briefly to you, slumped, barely conscious, blood at your lip, and then back to the others. “Move. The tide’s right where we need it. Boat’s ready.”

The men didn’t waste another second. The one carrying you hoisted you higher, grunting from the effort, and followed the others through the open door.

Cold night air hit you immediately.

The shift from the heavy, stale damp of the wine cellar to the crisp, salt tinged breeze of outdoors made your eyes flutter open wider for a moment.

Just a moment. But long enough to see the blur of dark stone walls of the castle fading further away, the faint glow of torches lining a narrow path, the glint of moonlight on water in the distance.

The docks.

Gravel crunched under their boots as the men hurried you forward. The leader barked orders under his breath, urgency in every word.

“Hurry, and keep her head down. We’re too exposed out here.”

Ronan jogged ahead, scanning the shadows, checking the path like he’d rehearsed it a dozen times. He motioned sharply when the shoreline came into view.

Small mooring posts, dark water brushing against the wooden planks, and a low, nondescript boat tied loosely at the end of the pier.

“That’s it,” Ronan hissed. “Get her in before the patrol comes back around.”

The men moved faster.

Your head lolled against the shoulder carrying you, vision swimming as the world around you tilted and swayed. Your limbs felt heavy, boneless. But somewhere deep in the fog of whatever they’d drugged you with, panic still flickered and pushed your body to resist. Your fingers twitching, your muscles tightening as the pier came into view.

The man holding you felt it.

“Don’t start again,” he seethed, his grip tightening painfully around your legs. “You want another hit? Because I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

The new voice cut through the night like a blade.

Cold. Sharp. One you’d recognize anywhere.

The man carrying you froze and everyone snapped their gazes toward the voice.

And Natasha stepped into view.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Natasha was on the move before the ballroom doors even stopped swinging behind her.

The moment Fury assigned her the lower halls, her feet were already carrying her there. Long, purposeful strides down the narrow servant corridors. Her pulse thudded in her ears, each beat louder than the last, but she forced her breathing to stay steady.

Panicking wouldn’t help you.

Finding you would.

The lower wings were cramped and dim, lit by wall torches instead of chandeliers. The sounds from the ballroom faded behind her, swallowed by tighter stone walls and colder air. She passed linen carts, storage closets, a row of empty scullery rooms.

Nothing.

She kept going.

“Romanoff,” a young guard called as she swept past him. “What’s going on?”

“Have you seen anyone come through here?” Natasha asked without slowing her pace.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not since the kitchens closed for the event.”

She didn’t waste time responding. She pressed forward, scanning every corner, every door left ajar.

Still nothing.

Her stomach twisted. You could be anywhere. The castle was enormous, full of hidden servant routes and back passages and old architectural quirks no one bothered to map properly.

Her jaw clenched.

She turned another corner, and stopped when a tiny shape on the floor caught her eye.

She crouched, brow furrowing. A dark dot on the stone. Almost too small to notice. She brushed her thumb against the edge of it, not enough to smear, just enough to feel the tacky pull.

Blood.

Not enough to mean something catastrophic. No. It wasn’t smeared or pooled, just fallen. Dropped.

Her chest tightened.

It was a sign.

A very small one, but in this moment, it was everything.

She stood and looked ahead. The corridor sloped downward into older parts of the castle. Fewer torches, less light. Quieter.

A place someone could disappear without passing through any main exit.

Natasha swallowed, her throat dry.

“Okay,” she whispered under her breath.

She followed the path, eyes sharp, steps quick but cautious. Another drop appeared several feet ahead. Faint. Barely visible unless you were looking for it. A heel mark in dust followed. Then a scuffed scrape, where someone had maybe pivoted or stumbled.

Not a struggle, but not a smooth movement either.

Natasha’s heart hammered harder.

She descended a tight set of stairs, the air cooling with each step until the scent hit her.

Wine cellars.

A place rebels and criminals loved. Lots of exits. Lots of dark corners. Loud events above often drowned out whatever happened down here.

She continued forward.

The huge wooden cellar door at the end of the room had been forced open slightly, its lock hanging crooked as if someone had picked it. Or broke it.

Natasha slipped through, hand resting lightly on the dagger at her hip.

Cold night air hit her immediately. The wind carried the distinct smell of seawater. And faint voices, male, hushed, urgent, drifted from the path that led down toward the docks.

She couldn’t make out words, but she knew one thing with complete certainty.

You were with them.

Her pace quickened, boots silent on the stone as she followed the curve of the outer wall down toward the water.

Then she heard it.

Footsteps on wood. The creak of the dock.

Natasha emerged at the edge of the pier and froze.

A small rowboat tied at the end. Four men. And in the arms of the biggest one.

You.

Barely conscious. Head lolling. Hair falling across your face as he adjusted his grip. Her stomach dropped so violently she thought she might be sick. Before she could think, the man holding you snarled, tightening his hold.

“Don’t start again,” he hissed at you. “You want another hit? Because I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?”

The words left Natasha before she even registered her mouth moving.

Every head on the pier whipped toward her, but as Natasha stepped into view her eyes were only on you.

“Let her go,” she said. Calm. Too calm.

Her stance was steady, but her eyes weren’t. They were burning.

“What the hell—” one of the men started, but didn’t get the opportunity to finish when their leader reacted immediately.

He grabbed you, ripping you away from the man holding you. Yanked your barely conscious body upright with a rough jerk that tore a strained, raw sound from your throat, and locked his arm across your chest.

Cold metal pressed against your skin, a knife edge sliding up until it nestled under your jaw.

Your body flinched at the contact. Or tried to. The movement made your vision spark white.

The man felt it. And he dug the blade in just enough that you felt the kiss of the edge nick the surface of your skin.

Natasha’s breath stopped.

“Let us go,” the man demanded, dragging you back a step. “Let us walk out of here, and she lives.”

Natasha didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She couldn’t.

She knew there was nothing she could do. No angle. No shot. No opening. Not without risking that blade slicing straight across your neck.

Her hands flexed uselessly around the grip of her dagger.

Your eyes found hers. Glassy, unfocused, pleading without words. Natasha felt something inside her shatter.

The man began backing down the pier, tugging you with him. Your feet scraped along the wooden boards, your knees buckling with every dragged step.

“Don’t follow,” he warned, pressing the blade harder into your neck. You sucked in a breath at the bite of pain when it nicked your skin.

Natasha didn’t follow.

But she also didn’t back off.

She didn’t trust her voice. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t make this worse, so she kept silent. The helplessness crawled up her spine, foreign and nauseating. She was used to being in control. To having options. To always knowing the next move.

But there wasn’t one.

Not until a faint whistle cut through the deafening silence.

Natasha recognized it half a second before it even hit.

Thwip.

The arrow dug itself in the forearm of the man holding you against your will. He shouted, his grip spasming and jerking the blade the wrong way. It sliced across your neck. Sharp, shallow, but real.

And everything happened at once.

He dropped you.

You didn’t even feel the wood of the pier slam into you. Your body simply gave out, collapsing like every muscle had finally decided to surrender.

Heavy footsteps thundered behind Natasha. Clint sprinted past her, bow still raised, eyes calculated. Steve, Fury, and more than half a dozen guards flooded the docks, their weapons drawn.

“Restrain them!” Steve ordered.

Chaos suddenly erupted.

Two men were tackled straight off the boat before they could react. Ronan tried to jump into the water, but was grabbed by two knights and slammed onto the dock. Their leader cried out as another guard yanked his wounded arm back and pinned him hard onto the boards.

Natasha didn’t go for them, she made a beeline for you.

She was at your side in an instant, knees hitting the pier, hands moving to pull you up gently from the cold wood.

“Hey, princess,” she breathed out, one shaking hand finding your cheek, faintly running her thumb over the bruise that was beginning to form there. “Stay with me.”

Natasha’s gaze swept over you as she inspected for injuries. The bruise on your cheek, the cut on your lip, the dried blood under your nose made her jaw clench.

Blood, thin but too bright, trickled from the laceration at your neck and she pressed her gloved fingers against the wound, steady and firm. You winced, but you didn’t pull away. For the first time since they’d taken you, your body leaned toward the touch instead of away.

“It’s okay,” Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. “I’ve got you this time. You’re safe now. Just stay awake, stay with me, just—”

But the moment you felt the tenderness of her hand, the moment you heard her voice, your body finally felt okay to let go. Your eyelids drooped, and before Natasha could stop you, your eyes fluttered shut.

“Y/n—”

No answer.

“Y/n. Hey. Open your eyes.” she was now panicking as her free hand gently, but frantically tapped at your unharmed cheek.

Still nothing.

Natasha hovered above you, breath shaking, hand firm on your neck to slow the bleeding. She could hear the guards behind her dragging the men away, could hear Steve giving orders, could hear Fury snapping commands.

But none of it mattered.

Not when you weren’t answering her.

Her hand pressed more firmly over the cut. You didn’t even flinch. That’s when the panic finally cracked through the surface.

“Clint!” she barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.

He appeared from the mayhem of the pier, bow still in hand, breathing hard. “Yeah? Oh hell.”

“I need you,” Natasha snapped, already beginning to lift you. “We’re taking her to the infirmary now.”

He didn’t question. Didn’t hesitate. Just darted to her side, to help support your weight. Natasha kept your head against her shoulder, one arm around your back, the other hand never leaving the pressure on your wound.

“Careful,” she muttered, even though she wasn’t letting him carry anything but your lower half. “Don’t jostle her.”

Clint nodded reassuringly. “I’ve got her. Just tell me where you need to go.”

Natasha stood, lifting you with a gentleness that didn’t match the urgency swimming in her eyes. “Straight to the infirmary,” she said. “And don’t let anyone stop us.”

Clint glanced at her, then at your unconscious figure, then back at her. “She’s gonna be okay, Nat.”

But Natasha didn’t answer. She just held you close to her and took off running.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The infirmary smelled faintly of lavender and antiseptic. A scent you’d always associated with scraped knees as a child, not nearly being killed on a dock. Nurses moved quietly around the room, checking your pulse, cleaning the cut along your neck, tending to the bruises blooming across your skin.

Your parents were at your bedside, your mother seated so close her fingers never left your hand, your father standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder like he was keeping her from falling apart.

Outside the door, muffled voices echoed down the corridor.

Natasha, Fury, Clint, Steve.

Your mother kept glancing toward the noise, her eyes swollen and red, every unfamiliar sound making her jump. Outside, Natasha stood rigid while Fury paced in a tight line.

“They’re all in custody,” Steve was saying, arms crossed over his chest. “They’ll each be questioned separately.”

“They’re not getting far,” Fury added. “Not after what they pulled tonight.”

Natasha nodded, but her mind wasn’t with them. She kept looking through the small window on the infirmary door.

At you.

Your unusual stillness, the discoloration from the bruise along your cheek.

Clint noticed her wandering mind and bumped her arm gently to bring her back. “She’s safe now.”

But that didn’t ease the tightness in her jaw.

Fury finished the debrief, dismissed them, and as the group turned to leave, Natasha didn’t move. She stayed rooted in front of that door for a beat, then slowly, cautiously, pushed it open.

Your parents looked up immediately.

For a moment, Natasha froze, unsure if she was intruding. But your father stepped aside, guiding your mother up with him. Her eyes softened when she saw the way Natasha hovered near the doorway, hesitant, almost afraid.

“Natasha,” she said quietly. “Come in.”

And before Natasha could second guess herself, your mother crossed the room and wrapped her in a warm, steady hug.

Natasha stiffened but quickly melted, just barely, the way she only ever did with people she trusted. Your mother’s hand came up to the back of her shoulder in that gentle, comforting way she’d always had with her.

When she pulled back, your father stepped forward.

“Thank you,” he said, and there was no royal authority in it, just a father’s gratitude. “For bringing her back to us.”

Natasha nodded, but the words didn’t land the way they were meant to.

Thank you.

She didn’t feel worthy of them.

Not when the image of you on that dock limp, bleeding, barely conscious was still carved into the back of her eyelids. Not when she could still feel the slip of your blood drying on her hands.

She couldn’t accept his gratitude. Not really.

I didn’t bring her back unharmed.

I didn’t keep her safe the way I swore I would.

But she didn’t say any of it. She just nodded once, tight and quiet, and kept her eyes on you.

Your mother squeezed Natasha’s forearm gently. “Stay with her. She’ll want you close.” they slipped out together, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

And suddenly the room felt too quiet.

Natasha moved toward your bed like she was walking into something sacred. Her breath hitched at the sight of you up close in the bright lighting. Bruised cheek, split lip, a bandage at your throat where the knife had cut.

Her eyes glistened. She blinked hard, but tears still slipped free.

“I should’ve been faster,” she whispered, sitting in the chair pulled up to your bedside. “I should’ve stopped them before they ever touched you.” her fingers hovered an inch above your arm, not touching, terrified that even the slightest contact might hurt you. “I should’ve been better—God, I’ll be better for you.”

Her voice broke on the last word. She dropped her head, shoulders trembling as she forced herself to steady her breathing.

And then your fingers twitched.

Natasha’s head snapped up instantly. “Y/n?” she breathed.

You stirred again, a soft wince pulling at your brow. Your breathing hitched, uneven, and your eyelids fluttered like they were too heavy to lift. When you finally gathered the strength to open them, they stared blankly.

Unfocused. Dazed. Searching.

You blinked at the ceiling first, then at the unfamiliar walls, the IV at your hand. Then your gaze landed on the figure beside you. Your breath caught and your body tensed all at once.

Panic hit you like a jolt of lightning.

You lurched upright as if someone had grabbed you, eyes wide, chest heaving, scrambling back against the pillow with a choked, terrified sound, your mind still half trapped in the wine cellar, on the pier, on the cold knife at your throat—

“Hey—no, no, my love—hey—”

Natasha was on her feet instantly, hands raised in front of her in surrender, her voice low, soft and urgent. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s me. It’s just me.”

Your breathing came too fast, shallow and frantic. Your eyes darted everywhere. The doorway, every corner of the room, as if expecting one of them to step out.

Natasha moved slowly, deliberately, like approaching a frightened animal. She lowered herself onto the bed, keeping a careful distance.

“You’re safe,” she repeated, gentler this time. “You’re in the infirmary. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Your gaze snapped back to her and recognition finally broke through the haze.

“Nat?”

It was barely a whisper. Broken. Small.

Her chest tightened at the sound.

“Yes,” she breathed, smiling through the tears she didn’t bother wiping. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay. You’re really okay.”

You sagged into the bed, the fear in your body draining all at once as a sob caught at the back of your throat, relief barreling into you so suddenly it hurt.

Natasha finally reached for you, slow and careful, giving you every chance to pull away. Instead, the second her hand touched you, you launched forward. You grabbed fistfuls of her tunic and buried yourself against her, trembling so hard she felt it through every layer of cloth.

Your face pressed into the warm curve of her neck, breath hitching against her skin like you were afraid she might disappear again.

Natasha’s heart broke.

She wrapped her arms around you as if anchoring you to her, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “You’re safe now, princess. I swear it.”

You didn’t calm right away.

It took time. Long, drawn out minutes before the panic in your body began to loosen its grip. Your sobs softened. Your breathing slowly aligned with hers. Your fingers, once locked in panic, curled into her with something softer, something seeking comfort rather than survival.

Only when your shaking eased did Natasha shift enough to see your face. “There you go,” she murmured, tucking your hair back and out of your face. “Breathe with me. Just like that.”

You blinked slowly, your lashes brushing your cheeks as her eyes searched yours like she was memorizing every tiny shift in your expression.

“What…what even happened? I don’t…remember all of it.” you finally said.

Natasha inhaled sharply, quiet, almost like she’d been hoping you wouldn’t ask yet. Her thumb brushed your cheekbone, gentle even as her jaw tightened.

“You were drugged,” she said softly. “A fast acting sedative was put into your drink. That’s why everything feels…blurred.” her gaze dropped for a second, as if she couldn’t bear the memory of you unconscious in someone else’s arms. “They used the commotion of the gala to take you. Slipped you out through the servant corridors.”

You swallowed. Your recollection was fuzzy, like you were trying to piece together a dream that you only remembered parts of.

“Did they say why?”

Natasha hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hated saying it out loud.

“Fury’s still interrogating the ones we caught.” her voice stayed low, but you heard the tight coil of anger underneath. “But it seems like they wanted leverage. A bargaining chip against the crown. Someone of high value.”

You stiffened. This all happened because they wanted you. “You mean me.”

Natasha’s hand instantly moved to cover yours. “Hey. Don’t go there. That’s not what I meant.”

But her eyes told you she was thinking something else entirely, something weighing heavily on her, something she was trying very hard to hide.

And you knew her too well.

“Nat,” you murmured, catching her hand before she could pull away fully.

She didn’t look at you.

“Natasha.” A little firmer.

Her jaw twitched once, then twice, then she finally met your gaze. And the guilt poured out of her in complete silence. Her eyes were glassy again, the muscles in her throat shifting like she was swallowing the same words over and over.

“I should’ve stopped them,” she finally breathed, her voice gone thin and frayed at the edges. “You came to me. You were drugged and you still came to me. I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve gotten you out faster. I should’ve—”

“Natasha.” you squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. Not in agreement, but in pain. In pain at her failure to keep you safe. In pain at the fact she was the reason they were able to hurt you, let alone lay a finger on you.

“You were hurt,” she whispered. “Right in front of me. And I—” her voice cracked, barely audible. “I’m supposed to protect you and I couldn’t even do that. I failed you.”

Your heart twisted. She wasn’t just explaining what happened, she was reliving it all over again.

You reached up, cupping her cheek gently. “You saved me.”

Natasha didn’t answer. Her throat bobbed once, a small tremor running through her body like she was still fighting to keep herself together in front of you.

“Nat,” you said again, softer this time. “Look at me.”

She did, and the guilt in her eyes nearly undid you.

“You found me,” you whispered. “You brought me back. I’m here because of you.”

The tension in her face faltered, just slightly, like she wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite let go of the blame she’d wrapped around herself.

You brushed your thumb over her cheek. “I’m okay. And you didn’t fail me.”

Natasha let out a slow, unsteady breath. The kind a person releases when they’ve been holding it far too long, and she leaned into your palm as if your touch was the only thing tethering her in place.

The warmth between you settled again, gentle and fragile. You swallowed, eyes drifting toward the narrow infirmary cot you are laying in. The sheets still looked too empty, and felt too cold.

“Nat?”

Her attention snapped back to you instantly, alert, worried. “Yeah? What do you need?”

“Can you get in here with me?”

Natasha froze for just a moment. You watched her eyes soften, watched the instinctive ‘yes’ in her eyes, and then the hesitation take over.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been through—”

“I’m sure,” the certainty in your voice was reassuring. “I just need you close.”

That was all it took.

She nodded once, and moved slowly, careful, as if the cot might break or you might wince in pain if she shifted too fast. She slipped under the covers beside you, leaving enough space for you to choose how close to be.

You didn’t hesitate, nestling into her, fitting yourself against her chest like you belonged there, and Natasha’s arms enveloped you. One under your shoulders, one across your waist, holding you steady against her.

She exhaled into your hair, her breath warm against your scalp. “Is there anything you need?” she murmured, brushing her thumb absently along your arm. “Water? More blankets? Pain medicine? I can get—”

“Just you,” you whispered, your fingers curling around the fabric of her tunic. “Just…stay.

Her eyes softened in that way they only ever did for you. She nodded before she could even form a sound and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer to her if that was even possible.

“I’m not going anywhere.” she said, as if she’d somehow made it a truth instead of simply a promise. “Not now, not ever.”

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Enamored

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: Your not so perfect attempts at having your first time with Natasha.

Warnings: Spicy and suggestive themes (not fully smut i’m so so sorry i just sucked at writing it)

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

Authors Note Pt. 2: This took me entirely too long to write I know but I hope ya’ll like it 😭

Other mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise | Perfect

(Takes place after Natasha returns from her commission in the main story: Soulmates)

You were sat against the headboard of Natasha’s bed, reading the book you’d started earlier in the day when the knight finally emerged from the bathroom.

The top of her lounge shirt was damp from her wet, red hair despite her attempts to dry it with a towel. You shut your book after marking your place and set it on the nightstand, now more interested in your girlfriend.

“Did the shower help at all? Are you still feeling sore?” you asked.

“A little,” she tossed the towel in the laundry basket with a sigh, “I should’ve expected that, though. There was hardly any time to rest during the day and the beds on the ship are nowhere near as comfortable as yours.”

“Oh, Nat,” you cooed as she sat down at the foot of the bed.

Tonight was Natasha’s first night back from her overseas commission. After being gone for three weeks she’d finally returned a few hours ago and you couldn’t be more relieved to have her back with you.

You maneuvered yourself so you could sit behind her. Your hands made their way up her shoulders, quickly finding knots in the muscle so you began to massage them away.

She sighed again and you felt her relax back into your touch, “Is this helping?”

Natasha quickly nodded her head, “A lot. Thank you.” she said, so you continued your ministrations.

“So aside from the sore muscles, how did it go? Do you know if you’ve completed your training?”

“I don’t know yet, but Fury seemed pretty pleased with how everything turned out so I think I did.” the redhead said.

You shifted so you could look over the knights shoulder at her side profile. “That’s amazing, Nat, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, princess.” she reached a hand up to place it over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, “But I won’t know for sure until tomorrow.”

“Well no matter what happens I’ll be proud of you either way,” you said.

Natasha turned her head to meet your gaze, but her eyes quickly flickered down to your lips instead. She’d gone torturously long without being able to feel them on hers.

The redhead closed the short distance between the two of you for a soft kiss. You paused your movements on her shoulders so a hand could cup the side of her face, your thumb stroking over her cheek.

After a moment you pulled away, but the young knight didn’t let you go very far when her arms snaked around your torso and her forehead rested against yours.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, her breath fanning over your mouth.

You tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as you looked between each of her green eyes. It wasn’t often that Natasha wore her hair down.

It was always pulled back into some form of a braid for her work, so you appreciated whenever you got to see the red strands fall freely.

“I missed you too.” you softly spoke, “I mean, if you couldn’t already tell with the way I barely gave you time to get off the ship before I jumped on you.” you both laughed.

Slowly, you leaned back in and connected your lips again. This one felt different compared to the kiss you’d just shared. It felt more passionate, as if the weeks spent away from each other were now catching up to you.

Natasha shifted her body to face towards you more, finding it easier as she no longer had to crane her neck. One of her hands left your waist and found purchase on the skin of your thigh left uncovered by your nightgown.

Much to your dissatisfaction she broke away from your lips, but you didn’t have to sulk for long when she began trailing kisses down your neck. You let out a shaky breath and allowed your eyes to shut, but you felt her stop once she reached your bare shoulder.

When you opened your eyes, you found her already looking at you.

“Is this okay?” Natasha asked. “I know we haven’t…you know…before.” she cringed at her awkwardness, “But we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her in awe. At the way she never failed to look out for you and make sure you were comfortable.

“It’s okay, Nat. I want to.”

The redhead grinned at your consent and continued where she left off.

She slid the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder to make room as she gently nipped and kissed at the skin. The hem of it rode up on your thigh as her hand slowly inched higher and higher.

Your hand tangled into Natasha’s hair as your eyes fell shut again, a blissful sigh escaping you at the feeling of her. You felt her kiss a path back up to your lips, capturing them with her own as she began leaning over you. You took this as your sign to let her push you onto your back.

Just as her unoccupied hand fell to your back to guide you down onto the bed, there was a knock at the door. You’d barely gotten time to react before it swung open.

“Natasha, make sure you remember—” the voice began to speak yet quickly stopped after seeing the scene in front of them.

You jumped away from each other, creating as much space between the two of you as possible but it didn’t matter at that point. Melina stood in the doorway with her jaw dropped to the floor and eyes wide.

“Mom! What are you doing!? You do know it’s common curtesy to knock!?” Natasha rushed out, running a hand through her hair.

“I did knock, honey. Though, I didn’t wait for an answer. I see now that I probably should’ve…” she trailed off, glancing between the both of you.

You felt exposed under her gaze as you fixed the strap of your nightgown on your shoulder and pulled the hem down to cover your legs.

“Well did you need something?”

Melina now focused on her daughter, “I was just coming to remind you of the debriefing with Fury to go over everything tomorrow.”

“Yes, mom, I already know. I spoke with him about it.” Natasha said.

“Okay, I was just checking.” the woman explained as she began to make her way out of the room. “Don’t stay up too late, girls. And Y/n, please remember to cover up. Wouldn’t want anyone seeing those marks now would we?” she smirked before shutting the door.

Your hand instinctively came up to clutch your shoulder only to see that Melina was right.

A moment of silence passed when Natasha flopped backwards onto the bed with a groan.

You laughed at your girlfriend.

“I don’t suppose you still feel like doing this?” she asked.

You just shook your head and gave her a soft smile, “I think we should just stick to cuddling for tonight. I don’t particularly like the fact that your mother basically just watched you almost undress me.”

She chuckled, “Sorry, princess,”

“It’s fine. I liked it.” you admitted.

The redhead opened her arms invitingly with a smirk, “Good to know.”

You happily crawled into her arms and made yourself comfortable on top of her.

~ ~ ~

It’d been a week later when you guys tried again.

Your parents were hosting a ball at the castle as a charity event and despite your disinterest in functions like these, you obviously had no choice but to attend being the Princess.

What made it worse was Natasha telling you she wouldn’t be able to make it as her father had asked for her help with something.

Without her company it was difficult to avoid the elders that would question your future plans for when you become Queen, and the entitled kids of nobles who’d make terrible attempts at flirting although your relationship with the redheaded knight was well-known.

So that’s how you found yourself at the drink table for a much needed break from all the conversing. Though it was quickly cut short when Lady Hill had come to your side.

She came from a noble family whom your parents liked and always appreciated the help they provided whenever it came to the Kingdom. Through your families relations, you’d become friends with their daughter, Maria.

The brunette had always been a bit flirtatious towards you, though, that’s just how she was. Natasha on the other hand wasn’t very fond of that.

“Not enjoying the party, Your Highness?” she asked, reaching for a glass and taking a sip.

After taking a long gulp of your own drink you shrugged your shoulders, “It’s alright. I wish people would just start questioning my parents instead of me, but what can I do.”

“You could dance with me.” Maria smiled, “If people see that you’re occupied then they’ll have no choice but to leave you alone.”

Quickly, you shook your head and gave her an apologetic look, “Oh, that’s okay. I really should be getting back out there, but thank you for wanting to help.”

“Are you sure?” The brunette asked before smirking, “You know I’d make sure to give you a fun time.”

Before you got the chance to respond, hands covered your eyes and you felt a body against your back. You were about to push them away and scold the person until you heard them speak.

“Guess who,”

You would recognize that voice anywhere. Their hands fell from your eyes as you turned around to see your redhead smiling at you.

“Nat!” you grinned and wrapped your arms around her shoulders for a hug the best you could without spilling your drink on her.

“Hey, princess,” she said.

As her arms wrapped around you she made eye contact with the woman still standing there over your shoulder and sent her a glare, though Maria simply brushed it off.

“Lady Hill,” Natasha greeted her with a nod when you pulled away.

She returned the gesture, “Nice to see you again, Natasha. I was just asking the Princess if—”

“I heard you.” the redhead interrupted. “And I thought I heard her say that she was okay, so do you need anything else? I need to borrow her for a moment.”

Maria chuckled and shook her head, “Not at all. She’s all yours.” she smiled politely at the knight and watched as Natasha took your hand to lead you away, “I’ll see you around, Your Highness.”

You bade her goodbye before following your girlfriend. She’d dragged you through the crowd and towards a back exit of the ballroom. It was isolated and hardly anyone was back there.

When Natasha turned to you she was met with your face sporting a big grin. The redhead raised her eyebrows at your expression.

“What?”

“You know, I think this little war you have going on with her is all one sided.” you teased and the knight just rolled her eyes. “Maria is a good person and she respects us both enough to not actually try anything.”

“Well,” Natasha wrapped her arms around you to pull you towards her, “I guess I just wanted to give her an extra hint, and I’m happy to say she got the message.” You giggled and Natasha leaned in to give you a soft kiss.

It was short, but it still awakened the butterflies in your stomach. You pulled away with a sudden confused look and wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

“What’re you doing here? I thought you had something to do with your father.”

“I did,” she said, “But Yelena agreed to help him instead as long as I brought her food. And I’m glad I did so that I could stop Maria from trying to take what’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow and a smirk took over your confusion as you leaned closer to her, “Oh, so I’m yours now?”

She closed the distance separating you even more as if it were a challenge, “You’ve always been mine, Princess.” Natasha whispered against your lips before connecting them with hers tenderly.

“Oh really?” you managed to mutter between kisses.

“Mhm.”

“Prove it.”

Your words made the redhead pause. She pulled away just enough to get a good look at your face to determine whether or not she correctly interpreted what you’d said.

The two of you hadn’t taken that step yet. When you tried before the last person who you would want to walk in, had walked in. But when the look in your eyes confirmed her thoughts, she smiled softly.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we left right now?” she asked.

You quickly scanned the room. Your parents were nowhere in sight. The elders who’d been pestering you earlier were immersed in yet another round of gossiping. Everyone seemed to be doing fine in your absence.

“I’d say we have a couple hours until I have to be back to start saying goodbye to all the guests.”

Natasha grinned, “I think we can make that work, yeah?”

“I think you might be right,” you giggled.

Giving her one last quick kiss to her lips, you took her hand into yours and made a B-line towards the stairs.

As you swiftly maneuvered through the crowd you avoided making eye contact with people as to not draw their attention. To anyone watching you in this moment from afar it would look as if you were on a mission they had no business interfering with.

The staircase had come into view and you were almost there, only for a figure to step out in front of you. You’d paused in your tracks so abruptly in order to stop yourself from running into them that Natasha had collided with your back.

“Y/n, darling! There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking for you!” your mother said.

You had to hold back a panicked look from taking over your features, and prepared to make up some type of excuse.

That you needed a few moments to get some air away from the party. Or that you suddenly weren’t feeling well and wanted to go up and rest for a bit.

But she hadn’t given you the chance to say anything when she continued talking, “Come with me, please. I have someone over here I’d like for you to meet.”

Words stuttered on the tip of your tongue as your mother was quick to wrap one arm around your shoulders.

“Mother, I—”

“Sorry to steal her from you, Natasha. She’ll come find you in a little bit.” she apologized to the redhead and your hand slipped out of hers as you were led away by your mother.

“It’s—” Natasha started to say, but at that point you two were too far away to hear her, “…Okay.”

Your head whipped around to look back at your girlfriend who stood there dumbfounded, “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to her.

Natasha just gave a small smile, letting you know that she wasn’t mad at you and watched you disappear from her line of sight.

What did it take to get some alone time in this castle?

~ ~ ~

The next time you tried was a few days later.

Your mother and father had left early in the morning, and would be gone all day due to a full schedule of council meetings.

Technically, you should have been at those meetings too. But you dreaded the idea of sitting through hours of political talk when you weren’t Queen and it wasn’t time for you to worry about those responsibilities yet.

In order for your parents to agree to let you sit this one out, you were to have a study day with Ms. Harkness instead.

She’d tutored you plenty of times when you were younger and not yet of age to begin fulfilling your duties. So it was a fair compromise.

Natasha on the other hand wasn’t exactly thrilled to know that you had the castle to yourself for the day, and yet you were too busy to have some alone time with her.

After a few sparring matches with Yelena in the courtyard that ended in the blonde quitting and dramatically accusing her of cheating, the young knight decided to check on you.

She navigated her way through the castle corridors until she reached the library where you usually study. However, she barely entered the room when Ms. Harkness appeared in front of her.

“It’s not often I see you in here Miss Romanoff,” the woman greeted.

The redhead kindly smiled, “I was actually just looking for Y/n. She is in here, right?”

“She is,” Ms. Harkness confirmed. Natasha attempted to move past her to find you, but the woman stepped in front of her again, “But the Princess is currently occupied and it’s best if her studies remained uninterrupted.”

Natasha huffed. You’d been cramped up in the library practically since the moment you woke up, so she hadn’t had a chance to see you yet.

“Could I just have a minute please?” the knight asked, “It’s kind of an emergency…” she added, hoping it would sway the woman’s decision.

Ms. Harkness eyed the young girl for a moment before humming, “Wait outside.”

Natasha did as told and waited outside the library, making herself comfortable leaning against a wall.

A few minutes must’ve passed when she finally saw you come out. You made eye contact with your girlfriend, and she noticed the almost panicked look on your face.

“Nat? Is everything okay? Ms. Harkness told me it was an emergency,” you said, clearly worried.

“Everything is fine, princess,”

“Then what’s—”

You didn’t get even halfway through your sentence before Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek to pull you in for a kiss.

The suddenness of it shocked you and your hands grasped at her forearms to steady yourself, but you quickly reciprocated nevertheless.

Her lips moved against yours tenderly and for a moment, everything around you was forced to the back of your mind.

She pulled away after a few seconds, but still hovered close, “Hi,” the redhead whispered.

You smiled softly, “Hi,”

Natasha leaned in again and you met her halfway. Her hands slid down to your waist to pull you closer and yours went up to her face as you deepened the kiss.

Your lips molded with hers perfectly, and you had no intention of returning to your studies anytime soon when Natasha was kissing you the way she was.

When air became a necessity, you parted again.

“So just to be clear,” you said as you attempted to catch your breath, “There’s not really an emergency? You’re okay?”

The redhead chuckled and rested her forehead against yours, “I’m okay, princess. Just wanted to see you.”

“That’s sweet,” you smiled faintly before pouting, your hands coming down to smooth out the fabric of her clothes on her shoulders, “But don’t scare me like that again, please.”

Natasha pecked you in apology, muttering a ‘sorry’. She’d planned to let you get back to Ms. Harkness then, but a gasp broke through the intimate moment.

“Oh!” one of the maids exclaimed and both of your heads whipped to look at the woman, “My apologies, Your Highness. I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll be on my way now.” she said and hurried away.

You shared a look with Natasha shared, and then your chuckles filled the silence.

“I guess we probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” the redhead commented.

Your teeth nipped at your lip as you thought for a second before fighting off a grin. Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed at the look on your face.

“What are you planning?”

You didn’t answer her.

Instead, you grabbed her hand and led her through the hallways until you reached the stairs. The knight didn’t question your motives, already piecing together what you had in mind.

When you reached your bedroom you shut the door and locked it, keeping that in mind from your past mistake. The moment you turned back to her, Natasha was already bringing you in for a kiss.

She walked you backwards, both of you breaking into giggles when you almost tripped over your own feet. Natasha placed her hands on your hips to steady you, and led you until your lower back bumped the edge of the dresser.

Her lips trailed down your neck in search of that spot she learned you liked. When she heard your breath hitch, she chucked against your skin.

Your hand gently tugged at her hair to pull her away and bring her in to kiss you instead. In a moment of boldness, your fingers trailed down and began fiddling with her clothes. That was when a thought came into the redhead’s mind that made her hesitate.

“Wait,” Natasha murmured and pulled back. Before you could panic she continued, “Isn’t Ms. Harkness expecting you? I don’t think we should do this right now if we have to be quick. I want to take my time with you.”

You smiled at the sincerity in her words. Your arms came up to wrap around her shoulders and pull her back into you.

“No,” you said, and your girlfriend looked at you confused, “I might’ve convinced her to let me off the hook for the rest of the day, so I’m all yours.”

Natasha smirked at the news and bent down to grasp the back of your thighs, lifting you into her arms. You yelped and tightened your hold on her as she walked over to the bed. She gently laid you on your back before crawling over you and smiling down at you.

Leaning in, she softly connected your lips and you smiled into the kiss. You couldn’t help but gaze into those vibrant green eyes of hers the moment you pulled away.

You were completely and utterly enamored by her, and the redhead felt the same as she looked at you.

“I am so in love with you,” Natasha whispered.

She beamed at the toothy grin on your face, “I’m so in love with you,” you said.

At that, she tilted her head down and you met her in the middle, not expecting to pull away for a while now.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Enamored

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: Your not so perfect attempts at having your first time with Natasha.

Warnings: Spicy and suggestive themes (not fully smut i’m so so sorry i just sucked at writing it)

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

Authors Note Pt. 2: This took me entirely too long to write I know but I hope ya’ll like it 😭

Other mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise | Perfect

(Takes place after Natasha returns from her commission in the main story: Soulmates)

You were sat against the headboard of Natasha’s bed, reading the book you’d started earlier in the day when the knight finally emerged from the bathroom.

The top of her lounge shirt was damp from her wet, red hair despite her attempts to dry it with a towel. You shut your book after marking your place and set it on the nightstand, now more interested in your girlfriend.

“Did the shower help at all? Are you still feeling sore?” you asked.

“A little,” she tossed the towel in the laundry basket with a sigh, “I should’ve expected that, though. There was hardly any time to rest during the day and the beds on the ship are nowhere near as comfortable as yours.”

“Oh, Nat,” you cooed as she sat down at the foot of the bed.

Tonight was Natasha’s first night back from her overseas commission. After being gone for three weeks she’d finally returned a few hours ago and you couldn’t be more relieved to have her back with you.

You maneuvered yourself so you could sit behind her. Your hands made their way up her shoulders, quickly finding knots in the muscle so you began to massage them away.

She sighed again and you felt her relax back into your touch, “Is this helping?”

Natasha quickly nodded her head, “A lot. Thank you.” she said, so you continued your ministrations.

“So aside from the sore muscles, how did it go? Do you know if you’ve completed your training?”

“I don’t know yet, but Fury seemed pretty pleased with how everything turned out so I think I did.” the redhead said.

You shifted so you could look over the knights shoulder at her side profile. “That’s amazing, Nat, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, princess.” she reached a hand up to place it over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, “But I won’t know for sure until tomorrow.”

“Well no matter what happens I’ll be proud of you either way,” you said.

Natasha turned her head to meet your gaze, but her eyes quickly flickered down to your lips instead. She’d gone torturously long without being able to feel them on hers.

The redhead closed the short distance between the two of you for a soft kiss. You paused your movements on her shoulders so a hand could cup the side of her face, your thumb stroking over her cheek.

After a moment you pulled away, but the young knight didn’t let you go very far when her arms snaked around your torso and her forehead rested against yours.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, her breath fanning over your mouth.

You tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as you looked between each of her green eyes. It wasn’t often that Natasha wore her hair down.

It was always pulled back into some form of a braid for her work, so you appreciated whenever you got to see the red strands fall freely.

“I missed you too.” you softly spoke, “I mean, if you couldn’t already tell with the way I barely gave you time to get off the ship before I jumped on you.” you both laughed.

Slowly, you leaned back in and connected your lips again. This one felt different compared to the kiss you’d just shared. It felt more passionate, as if the weeks spent away from each other were now catching up to you.

Natasha shifted her body to face towards you more, finding it easier as she no longer had to crane her neck. One of her hands left your waist and found purchase on the skin of your thigh left uncovered by your nightgown.

Much to your dissatisfaction she broke away from your lips, but you didn’t have to sulk for long when she began trailing kisses down your neck. You let out a shaky breath and allowed your eyes to shut, but you felt her stop once she reached your bare shoulder.

When you opened your eyes, you found her already looking at you.

“Is this okay?” Natasha asked. “I know we haven’t…you know…before.” she cringed at her awkwardness, “But we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her in awe. At the way she never failed to look out for you and make sure you were comfortable.

“It’s okay, Nat. I want to.”

The redhead grinned at your consent and continued where she left off.

She slid the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder to make room as she gently nipped and kissed at the skin. The hem of it rode up on your thigh as her hand slowly inched higher and higher.

Your hand tangled into Natasha’s hair as your eyes fell shut again, a blissful sigh escaping you at the feeling of her. You felt her kiss a path back up to your lips, capturing them with her own as she began leaning over you. You took this as your sign to let her push you onto your back.

Just as her unoccupied hand fell to your back to guide you down onto the bed, there was a knock at the door. You’d barely gotten time to react before it swung open.

“Natasha, make sure you remember—” the voice began to speak yet quickly stopped after seeing the scene in front of them.

You jumped away from each other, creating as much space between the two of you as possible but it didn’t matter at that point. Melina stood in the doorway with her jaw dropped to the floor and eyes wide.

“Mom! What are you doing!? You do know it’s common curtesy to knock!?” Natasha rushed out, running a hand through her hair.

“I did knock, honey. Though, I didn’t wait for an answer. I see now that I probably should’ve…” she trailed off, glancing between the both of you.

You felt exposed under her gaze as you fixed the strap of your nightgown on your shoulder and pulled the hem down to cover your legs.

“Well did you need something?”

Melina now focused on her daughter, “I was just coming to remind you of the debriefing with Fury to go over everything tomorrow.”

“Yes, mom, I already know. I spoke with him about it.” Natasha said.

“Okay, I was just checking.” the woman explained as she began to make her way out of the room. “Don’t stay up too late, girls. And Y/n, please remember to cover up. Wouldn’t want anyone seeing those marks now would we?” she smirked before shutting the door.

Your hand instinctively came up to clutch your shoulder only to see that Melina was right.

A moment of silence passed when Natasha flopped backwards onto the bed with a groan.

You laughed at your girlfriend.

“I don’t suppose you still feel like doing this?” she asked.

You just shook your head and gave her a soft smile, “I think we should just stick to cuddling for tonight. I don’t particularly like the fact that your mother basically just watched you almost undress me.”

She chuckled, “Sorry, princess,”

“It’s fine. I liked it.” you admitted.

The redhead opened her arms invitingly with a smirk, “Good to know.”

You happily crawled into her arms and made yourself comfortable on top of her.

~ ~ ~

It’d been a week later when you guys tried again.

Your parents were hosting a ball at the castle as a charity event and despite your disinterest in functions like these, you obviously had no choice but to attend being the Princess.

What made it worse was Natasha telling you she wouldn’t be able to make it as her father had asked for her help with something.

Without her company it was difficult to avoid the elders that would question your future plans for when you become Queen, and the entitled kids of nobles who’d make terrible attempts at flirting although your relationship with the redheaded knight was well-known.

So that’s how you found yourself at the drink table for a much needed break from all the conversing. Though it was quickly cut short when Lady Hill had come to your side.

She came from a noble family whom your parents liked and always appreciated the help they provided whenever it came to the Kingdom. Through your families relations, you’d become friends with their daughter, Maria.

The brunette had always been a bit flirtatious towards you, though, that’s just how she was. Natasha on the other hand wasn’t very fond of that.

“Not enjoying the party, Your Highness?” she asked, reaching for a glass and taking a sip.

After taking a long gulp of your own drink you shrugged your shoulders, “It’s alright. I wish people would just start questioning my parents instead of me, but what can I do.”

“You could dance with me.” Maria smiled, “If people see that you’re occupied then they’ll have no choice but to leave you alone.”

Quickly, you shook your head and gave her an apologetic look, “Oh, that’s okay. I really should be getting back out there, but thank you for wanting to help.”

“Are you sure?” The brunette asked before smirking, “You know I’d make sure to give you a fun time.”

Before you got the chance to respond, hands covered your eyes and you felt a body against your back. You were about to push them away and scold the person until you heard them speak.

“Guess who,”

You would recognize that voice anywhere. Their hands fell from your eyes as you turned around to see your redhead smiling at you.

“Nat!” you grinned and wrapped your arms around her shoulders for a hug the best you could without spilling your drink on her.

“Hey, princess,” she said.

As her arms wrapped around you she made eye contact with the woman still standing there over your shoulder and sent her a glare, though Maria simply brushed it off.

“Lady Hill,” Natasha greeted her with a nod when you pulled away.

She returned the gesture, “Nice to see you again, Natasha. I was just asking the Princess if—”

“I heard you.” the redhead interrupted. “And I thought I heard her say that she was okay, so do you need anything else? I need to borrow her for a moment.”

Maria chuckled and shook her head, “Not at all. She’s all yours.” she smiled politely at the knight and watched as Natasha took your hand to lead you away, “I’ll see you around, Your Highness.”

You bade her goodbye before following your girlfriend. She’d dragged you through the crowd and towards a back exit of the ballroom. It was isolated and hardly anyone was back there.

When Natasha turned to you she was met with your face sporting a big grin. The redhead raised her eyebrows at your expression.

“What?”

“You know, I think this little war you have going on with her is all one sided.” you teased and the knight just rolled her eyes. “Maria is a good person and she respects us both enough to not actually try anything.”

“Well,” Natasha wrapped her arms around you to pull you towards her, “I guess I just wanted to give her an extra hint, and I’m happy to say she got the message.” You giggled and Natasha leaned in to give you a soft kiss.

It was short, but it still awakened the butterflies in your stomach. You pulled away with a sudden confused look and wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

“What’re you doing here? I thought you had something to do with your father.”

“I did,” she said, “But Yelena agreed to help him instead as long as I brought her food. And I’m glad I did so that I could stop Maria from trying to take what’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow and a smirk took over your confusion as you leaned closer to her, “Oh, so I’m yours now?”

She closed the distance separating you even more as if it were a challenge, “You’ve always been mine, Princess.” Natasha whispered against your lips before connecting them with hers tenderly.

“Oh really?” you managed to mutter between kisses.

“Mhm.”

“Prove it.”

Your words made the redhead pause. She pulled away just enough to get a good look at your face to determine whether or not she correctly interpreted what you’d said.

The two of you hadn’t taken that step yet. When you tried before the last person who you would want to walk in, had walked in. But when the look in your eyes confirmed her thoughts, she smiled softly.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we left right now?” she asked.

You quickly scanned the room. Your parents were nowhere in sight. The elders who’d been pestering you earlier were immersed in yet another round of gossiping. Everyone seemed to be doing fine in your absence.

“I’d say we have a couple hours until I have to be back to start saying goodbye to all the guests.”

Natasha grinned, “I think we can make that work, yeah?”

“I think you might be right,” you giggled.

Giving her one last quick kiss to her lips, you took her hand into yours and made a B-line towards the stairs.

As you swiftly maneuvered through the crowd you avoided making eye contact with people as to not draw their attention. To anyone watching you in this moment from afar it would look as if you were on a mission they had no business interfering with.

The staircase had come into view and you were almost there, only for a figure to step out in front of you. You’d paused in your tracks so abruptly in order to stop yourself from running into them that Natasha had collided with your back.

“Y/n, darling! There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking for you!” your mother said.

You had to hold back a panicked look from taking over your features, and prepared to make up some type of excuse.

That you needed a few moments to get some air away from the party. Or that you suddenly weren’t feeling well and wanted to go up and rest for a bit.

But she hadn’t given you the chance to say anything when she continued talking, “Come with me, please. I have someone over here I’d like for you to meet.”

Words stuttered on the tip of your tongue as your mother was quick to wrap one arm around your shoulders.

“Mother, I—”

“Sorry to steal her from you, Natasha. She’ll come find you in a little bit.” she apologized to the redhead and your hand slipped out of hers as you were led away by your mother.

“It’s—” Natasha started to say, but at that point you two were too far away to hear her, “…Okay.”

Your head whipped around to look back at your girlfriend who stood there dumbfounded, “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to her.

Natasha just gave a small smile, letting you know that she wasn’t mad at you and watched you disappear from her line of sight.

What did it take to get some alone time in this castle?

~ ~ ~

The next time you tried was a few days later.

Your mother and father had left early in the morning, and would be gone all day due to a full schedule of council meetings.

Technically, you should have been at those meetings too. But you dreaded the idea of sitting through hours of political talk when you weren’t Queen and it wasn’t time for you to worry about those responsibilities yet.

In order for your parents to agree to let you sit this one out, you were to have a study day with Ms. Harkness instead.

She’d tutored you plenty of times when you were younger and not yet of age to begin fulfilling your duties. So it was a fair compromise.

Natasha on the other hand wasn’t exactly thrilled to know that you had the castle to yourself for the day, and yet you were too busy to have some alone time with her.

After a few sparring matches with Yelena in the courtyard that ended in the blonde quitting and dramatically accusing her of cheating, the young knight decided to check on you.

She navigated her way through the castle corridors until she reached the library where you usually study. However, she barely entered the room when Ms. Harkness appeared in front of her.

“It’s not often I see you in here Miss Romanoff,” the woman greeted.

The redhead kindly smiled, “I was actually just looking for Y/n. She is in here, right?”

“She is,” Ms. Harkness confirmed. Natasha attempted to move past her to find you, but the woman stepped in front of her again, “But the Princess is currently occupied and it’s best if her studies remained uninterrupted.”

Natasha huffed. You’d been cramped up in the library practically since the moment you woke up, so she hadn’t had a chance to see you yet.

“Could I just have a minute please?” the knight asked, “It’s kind of an emergency…” she added, hoping it would sway the woman’s decision.

Ms. Harkness eyed the young girl for a moment before humming, “Wait outside.”

Natasha did as told and waited outside the library, making herself comfortable leaning against a wall.

A few minutes must’ve passed when she finally saw you come out. You made eye contact with your girlfriend, and she noticed the almost panicked look on your face.

“Nat? Is everything okay? Ms. Harkness told me it was an emergency,” you said, clearly worried.

“Everything is fine, princess,”

“Then what’s—”

You didn’t get even halfway through your sentence before Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek to pull you in for a kiss.

The suddenness of it shocked you and your hands grasped at her forearms to steady yourself, but you quickly reciprocated nevertheless.

Her lips moved against yours tenderly and for a moment, everything around you was forced to the back of your mind.

She pulled away after a few seconds, but still hovered close, “Hi,” the redhead whispered.

You smiled softly, “Hi,”

Natasha leaned in again and you met her halfway. Her hands slid down to your waist to pull you closer and yours went up to her face as you deepened the kiss.

Your lips molded with hers perfectly, and you had no intention of returning to your studies anytime soon when Natasha was kissing you the way she was.

When air became a necessity, you parted again.

“So just to be clear,” you said as you attempted to catch your breath, “There’s not really an emergency? You’re okay?”

The redhead chuckled and rested her forehead against yours, “I’m okay, princess. Just wanted to see you.”

“That’s sweet,” you smiled faintly before pouting, your hands coming down to smooth out the fabric of her clothes on her shoulders, “But don’t scare me like that again, please.”

Natasha pecked you in apology, muttering a ‘sorry’. She’d planned to let you get back to Ms. Harkness then, but a gasp broke through the intimate moment.

“Oh!” one of the maids exclaimed and both of your heads whipped to look at the woman, “My apologies, Your Highness. I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll be on my way now.” she said and hurried away.

You shared a look with Natasha shared, and then your chuckles filled the silence.

“I guess we probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” the redhead commented.

Your teeth nipped at your lip as you thought for a second before fighting off a grin. Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed at the look on your face.

“What are you planning?”

You didn’t answer her.

Instead, you grabbed her hand and led her through the hallways until you reached the stairs. The knight didn’t question your motives, already piecing together what you had in mind.

When you reached your bedroom you shut the door and locked it, keeping that in mind from your past mistake. The moment you turned back to her, Natasha was already bringing you in for a kiss.

She walked you backwards, both of you breaking into giggles when you almost tripped over your own feet. Natasha placed her hands on your hips to steady you, and led you until your lower back bumped the edge of the dresser.

Her lips trailed down your neck in search of that spot she learned you liked. When she heard your breath hitch, she chucked against your skin.

Your hand gently tugged at her hair to pull her away and bring her in to kiss you instead. In a moment of boldness, your fingers trailed down and began fiddling with her clothes. That was when a thought came into the redhead’s mind that made her hesitate.

“Wait,” Natasha murmured and pulled back. Before you could panic she continued, “Isn’t Ms. Harkness expecting you? I don’t think we should do this right now if we have to be quick. I want to take my time with you.”

You smiled at the sincerity in her words. Your arms came up to wrap around her shoulders and pull her back into you.

“No,” you said, and your girlfriend looked at you confused, “I might’ve convinced her to let me off the hook for the rest of the day, so I’m all yours.”

Natasha smirked at the news and bent down to grasp the back of your thighs, lifting you into her arms. You yelped and tightened your hold on her as she walked over to the bed. She gently laid you on your back before crawling over you and smiling down at you.

Leaning in, she softly connected your lips and you smiled into the kiss. You couldn’t help but gaze into those vibrant green eyes of hers the moment you pulled away.

You were completely and utterly enamored by her, and the redhead felt the same as she looked at you.

“I am so in love with you,” Natasha whispered.

She beamed at the toothy grin on your face, “I’m so in love with you,” you said.

At that, she tilted her head down and you met her in the middle, not expecting to pull away for a while now.

~ end ~

[fetusgooseandjuice]

i wanna write a kate bishop fic bc i’m going through another phase so send any ideas please 😭✋

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Perfect

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: Natasha becomes insecure about her place in your life.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Tony Stark being a jerk

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline! Also I have deleted this post and reposted it so many times because it wasn't showing up in the tag at first lol

Mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise

(Takes place before Natasha proposes in Forever)

“Great work today everyone, but stay behind just for a moment as we should have a guest arriving any minute now.” commander Fury said.

Natasha wiped her forehead with a towel before taking another big gulp of water. Her and the rest of the knights had just finished their weekly training session, and were now cleaning up to return home.

“If it’s another one of his war buddies coming to help tell all of their ‘stories in battle’ again, I’m slipping out the back gate.” Clint muttered.

The redhead rolled her eyes and chuckled, “You act as if you actually have somewhere else to be that’s not here.”

A playful scoff left the man, “I’ll have you know that I have a date later, and I’d prefer not to smell like dirt and sweat when I see her.”

Clint Barton was the first friend Natasha made when she began training to become a knight years ago. He specialized in archery, and would often help teach the trainees the ways of the bow and arrow.

He met Natasha after the arrow she’d shot nearly took the man’s head off— hence why her area of specialty was always hand-to-hand combat.

That was the first and last time he chose to stand off to the side whenever she held the weapon. From then on, he made a point to always stand behind her instead.

“Oh, so Laura finally agreed to go out with you?”

He shrugged with a smug smirk, “She was bound to say yes eventually,”

“May I have your attention everyone!” commander Fury’s booming voice sounded, interrupting their conversation.

Beside him now stood a familiar face.

“This is Lord Tony Stark,” he began, “He has been so kind to take the time to design us some new armor and weapons, so make sure to pick yours up from the armory at some point and thank Lord Stark on your way out. You’re all dismissed.”

At that, everyone moved to finish packing up and begin heading out.

Natasha was acquainted with the noble. His name had sometimes come up during your rants about the meetings you’d attended that day. Needless to say he was a genius, but at times could be a little self-absorbed and insensitive.

“As smart as that man is he sure can say some really dumb stuff.” Natasha remembered you saying.

She quickly grabbed her bag and made her way toward the exit of the training grounds, leaving Clint having to jog to catch up with her.

“So now you seem to have somewhere to be too,” he teased.

The redhead didn’t have the chance to make another playful remark as a smile overtook her features that’d be difficult for anyone to miss.

“Y/n is coming home from her trip to the neighboring kingdom tonight, and I want to do something nice for her.”

Clint raised his eyebrows, “Does this ‘something nice’ have anything to do with that ring in your bag?”

She’s had the ring for almost a month now. Yelena and her mother helped to pick it out, but she was still thinking about how and when to pop the question.

“Not yet,” Natasha said, “I haven’t spoken to the King and Queen about it, and I want it to be perfect when I ask her so I still have planning to do.”

The archer scrunched his nose in a faux look of disgust, “God, when did you become such a romantic? What are they feeding you over there in that castle?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “You’ll understand if things work out between you and Laura.”

As they approached the exit gate, the face of Lord Stark became clearer. He was exchanging a few words with each knight as they left, some deciding to shake the nobles hand as well.

When it was their turn, Clint gave a firm nod of his head and held out a hand for Lord Stark to shake.

“I wouldn’t suppose some new bows and arrows were included in this upgrade as well?”

Lord Stark raised his eyebrows, “Wouldn’t be much of a weapon upgrade if I left those out now would it?“

As Clint thanked him, Starks eyes now focused on Natasha when she stepped up, giving him a small smile of gratitude.

“Thank you for helping us out. It is much appreciated.” she said.

“Of course,” he gave a nod of his head. Just as the pair of knights went to leave he spoke up again, “Romanoff, right? The one with the Princess?”

Natasha turned back to him with a look of confusion etched on her face at the reason for his question.

“That would be me,” the redhead answered. “May I ask why?”

“No reason. Just surprised you two are still together is all.”

“Excuse me?”

Lord Stark laughed lightly, “Oh don’t get me wrong it is adorable. You know, the whole childhood sweetheart thing.”

“So what seems to be the problem?” a displeased frown settled upon the knights eyebrows.

“I’m only shocked she isn’t bored of you yet with how long you’ve been together.” he chuckled, “I mean she is the Princess. Plenty of people have their eyes on her, and who’s to say she hasn’t been looking at them too?”

“What’s it to you?” Natasha snapped, “What is the point you’re trying to make here?”

She didn’t even know why she still standing there listening to him, much less engaging in the frustrating conversation.

“Relax, I was only joking. No need to get so defensive.” the noble chuckled.

“Well then I guess I failed to understand what was funny about anything you said,” Natasha said as she readjusted the bag on her shoulder, “Have a good rest of your day, Lord Stark.”

With that, the redhead brushed past the man and stormed out of the courtyard.

She didn’t know how she managed to stay talking to him for that long, but she knew if she stuck around any longer things probably wouldn’t have ended the best way for either of them.

The archer was quick to catch up to his best friend, a look of concern now sat on his face.

“Are you alright, Nat?” he asked, “The nerve of that man is insane.”

Natasha nodded, “I’ll be fine, I just needed to walk away.”

“You know nothing he said is true, right?” Clint assured, “Y/n loves you and everyone can see that. They’re blind if they don’t.”

“I know,” she said, “I just want to get back and clean up before she gets home. You should probably do the same.”

As hesitant as he was to leave his friend alone, she was right. “Okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

Natasha agreed and said her goodbyes to the man before they went their separate ways.

When you arrived home in the evening, the knight had asked the cooks to prepare your favorite to eat. She’d gathered both of your families in the dining room to share the meal, knowing how much you enjoyed family dinners after being away.

Everything appeared to be just as you had left it. Your mother and Melina were busy with their normal chatter; your father and Alexei chiming in as well. Natasha and Yelena were engaging in their everyday sibling banter.

But despite that Natasha didn’t seem like herself.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was wrong, but it was clear that something was up based on the way she’d occasionally zone out. You’d have to call her name multiple times to gain her attention again.

Even then, she was tense and had a distant look in her eyes. As if she was afraid to look at you for too long.

“Is everything okay, Nat?” you’d asked her several times throughout the night.

Each time she flashed you her usual charming smile that always made you melt, and responded with an “Of course I am, princess. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You weren’t totally convinced.

The suspicions you had were confirmed as everyone was finishing up the last of their dinner and began cleaning up. The redhead had excused herself from the table, but never returned.

About a half hour had passed when worry had finally got the best of you, and you decided to search for your girlfriend. You first looked in the places she frequented most in the castle, but every room you searched you came out empty handed.

With one last place in mind, you made your way through the halls and out the front doors of the castle.

~ ~ ~

Natasha nocked the arrow onto the string and drew it back just as Clint showed her many times before, her eyes locked in on the target set up across the training grounds.

She took a deep breath in, releasing it completely before letting the string go. The arrow slid off her fingertips as it shot through the air and past the target, missing it completely.

The knight huffed and let her arms drop down to her sides as she stared at the still untouched bullseye despite her having shot four others before that.

“I think you’re supposed to be aiming for the target, you do know that right?”

Natasha turned to see you making your way over to her. She laughed and set the bow down as she sat on the grass. You joined her, deciding that this was more important than your mother lecturing you over the dress that would inevitably become dirty.

“I guess today is just not my day,” she shrugged.

“Anything you want to talk about?” you wondered, giving her the floor to speak freely, “You weren’t exactly acting like yourself at dinner.”

Natasha should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to hide this from you. You knew her like the back of your hand, and vice versa. Nothing ever got past the other.

“I just missed you is all,” she answered, giving you a small smile for extra reassurance.

Once again, you weren’t fooled.

“I missed you too, Nat. But that doesn’t explain it since I’m home now.” you said.

The redhead went silent, chirping from the crickets hiding out in the trees filling the air instead. She had no grounds to deny your words because she knew you’d see right through her.

“So what’s actually going on? Did something happen while I was gone?”

Natasha shook her head, “It’s nothing, really. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Well it’s a little too late for that,” you lightly chuckled, “And it’s clearly something if it’s bothering you this much. Was it something I did?”

“No!” she quickly assured, “God no, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“So then talk to me, my love. Please,” you pleaded and reached to take her hand, your thumb stroking over the back of her palm.

The knight sighed and forced herself to look straight ahead. The gentleness in your eyes made her want to tell you everything.

Every thought she’s ever had, every secret she’s ever kept, every feeling she’s ever felt. That’s just the effect you had on her.

You made everything okay.

The worries and stresses plaguing her mind just seemed to dissipate little by little until they were gone whenever she was with you.

And as much as Natasha fell in love with you because of that, she was now questioning if she even deserved to have you look at her the way you were.

“Do you ever think about what it would be like if you’d chosen someone else to be with?”

Your eyes slightly widened as your mouth opened just to shut again multiple times in disbelief.

“What?”

Out of all the things you could’ve predicted her to say, that was not one of them.

“You’ve never been with anyone before me. We became exclusive as teenagers, and you just stuck with me.” Natasha explained, and you nodded to confirm what she said was true.

“Do you not ever wonder what it’d feel like to be with someone else?”

“Nat, where is this coming from?” you asked, “Have you been thinking about that for a while, or did someone say something?”

The redhead finally looked at you, sadness evident in her gaze, “Lord Stark stopped by during training.” she said, and you had a good idea of where this was going now.

“He made us some new equipment and when I went to talk to him, he said he was surprised you were still with me. That he was shocked you hadn’t gotten bored yet.”

You had first hand experience working with the noble during council meetings for the kingdom and his ideas were beneficial, but he was also notorious for his filterless mouth.

A sigh left your lips and you squeezed her hand, “Nat, I don’t think Lord Stark has ever kept a woman around for more than a few weeks, so he’s probably familiar with people getting tired of him.” you chuckled.

Natasha cracked a smile, but it was short lived.

“You don’t think he has a point, though?”

“No, I do not.” you said. You wish you could slap Lord Stark for making her feel like this. “I’ve never wanted anyone else because I found everything I need in you.”

The redhead looked down at your connected hands, fighting the urge to fidget with your finger she hoped to soon have decorated with the ring in the bag lying next to her. She opted to interlace your fingers instead.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me just because I’m your first relationship.”

“Oh, Nat. Come here,” you tugged on her hand and guided the knight to lay on her side, her head resting safely in your lap. “You don’t understand how perfect you are.”

Your fingers began to run through her messily braided her, brushing back the loose strands from in front of her face. Natasha immediately relaxed under your touch.

“Perfect might be a bit of a stretch,” she murmured.

“I don’t think it is,” you disagreed, “You look out for your parents, and Yelena, and the people you love. Even people you don’t know because you’re so selfless.”

Now that you’ve started, you could probably go on for hours about all the reasons you chose Natasha Romanoff over anybody else. You probably would because it’s clear she needs to hear them in this moment.

“And you’re just as sweet with me. The way you take care of me. The way you always know what I need before I even know myself. It’s like you have a sixth sense,” you giggled and you felt the redhead chuckle against you too.

“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you because to me you’re just so perfect in every way imaginable.”

That was when Natasha decided to maneuver onto her back instead, now staring straight up at you.

“There you are,” you grinned softly down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Your head tilted as your fingers continued to card through her red strands, “For what?”

“I don’t know why I was acting like that. I was being ridiculous.”

“Nat, you were not being ridiculous. You were feeling vulnerable and that’s okay. You don’t have to act like you’re fine when you’re not around me.”

“I know,” Natasha said and took your freehand to bring it up so she could press a kiss to the back of it. “I know, princess. I love you so much,”

You smiled softly at her and leaned down enough to connect your lips. It was slow and gentle, you just wanted her to know you were here and not going anywhere.

When you pulled back you didn’t go very far, your face still hovering centimeters above hers, “Hey,” you mumbled.

She opened her eyes at that to meet your gaze.

“It’s you, and it’ll only ever be you. Okay?”

Natasha softly smiled against yours lips and nodded, “Okay,”

You gave her one last peck before urging her to sit up when you began standing, “Alright, now show me how it’s really done.”

The knight stood up as well and watched you pick up her bow along with another arrow from the bag. She rose an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she looked at you amusingly.

“What are you doing?” Natasha chuckled.

You pushed the weapon into her hands before backing away, “I want to watch you practice,” you answered simply.

Natasha shook her head, “As much as I love it when you watch, I think you’d just be disappointed.”

“Come on, just try one more time, please?”

Of course, the redhead struggled to say no to your face. Natasha sighed and turned towards the target once again, correcting her stance like she’d done earlier and nocked the arrow.

Drawing back the string, she precisely aimed the arrow and exhaled a deep breath before letting go. The knight expected it to miss by a long shot like they had earlier, but was proven wrong when it landed dead center in the bullseye.

You had an innocent smile on your face when Natasha turned to look back at you, like you had known she’d hit the bullseye when you first forced the bow into her hands.

“What was that about today not being your day?” you wondered.

God, you really did make everything okay.

Natasha broke into a big grin and motioned you towards her, “Come here,” she said.

Your head tilted slightly at her request, but still made your way over to her, “What?”

She just chuckled. “I want to show you how to shoot a bow,”

The redhead was now realizing that she’d probably be needing that ring much sooner than she originally thought.

~ end ~

Authors Note PT 2: I don’t know if I like this one but here it is! Also I finally decided to give the commander a name and add in Clint bc you can’t have a Natasha series without her best friend ofc

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Perfect

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: Natasha becomes insecure about her place in your life.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Tony Stark being a jerk

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline! Also I have deleted this post and reposted it so many times because it wasn't showing up in the tag at first lol

Other mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise | Enamored

(Takes place before Natasha proposes in Forever)

“Great work today everyone, but stay behind just for a moment as we should have a guest arriving any minute now.” commander Fury said.

Natasha wiped her forehead with a towel before taking another big gulp of water. Her and the rest of the knights had just finished their weekly training session, and were now cleaning up to return home.

“If it’s another one of his war buddies coming to help tell all of their ‘stories in battle’ again, I’m slipping out the back gate.” Clint muttered.

The redhead rolled her eyes and chuckled, “You act as if you actually have somewhere else to be that’s not here.”

A playful scoff left the man, “I’ll have you know that I have a date later, and I’d prefer not to smell like dirt and sweat when I see her.”

Clint Barton was the first friend Natasha made when she began training to become a knight years ago. He specialized in archery, and would often help teach the trainees the ways of the bow and arrow.

He met Natasha after the arrow she’d shot nearly took the man’s head off— hence why her area of specialty was always hand-to-hand combat.

That was the first and last time he chose to stand off to the side whenever she held the weapon. From then on, he made a point to always stand behind her instead.

“Oh, so Laura finally agreed to go out with you?”

He shrugged with a smug smirk, “She was bound to say yes eventually,”

“May I have your attention everyone!” commander Fury’s booming voice sounded, interrupting their conversation.

Beside him now stood a familiar face.

“This is Lord Tony Stark,” he began, “He has been so kind to take the time to design us some new armor and weapons, so make sure to pick yours up from the armory at some point and thank Lord Stark on your way out. You’re all dismissed.”

At that, everyone moved to finish packing up and begin heading out.

Natasha was acquainted with the noble. His name had sometimes come up during your rants about the meetings you’d attended that day. Needless to say he was a genius, but at times could be a little self-absorbed and insensitive.

“As smart as that man is he sure can say some really dumb stuff.” Natasha remembered you saying.

She quickly grabbed her bag and made her way toward the exit of the training grounds, leaving Clint having to jog to catch up with her.

“So now you seem to have somewhere to be too,” he teased.

The redhead didn’t have the chance to make another playful remark as a smile overtook her features that’d be difficult for anyone to miss.

“Y/n is coming home from her trip to the neighboring kingdom tonight, and I want to do something nice for her.”

Clint raised his eyebrows, “Does this ‘something nice’ have anything to do with that ring in your bag?”

She’s had the ring for almost a month now. Yelena and her mother helped to pick it out, but she was still thinking about how and when to pop the question.

“Not yet,” Natasha said, “I haven’t spoken to the King and Queen about it, and I want it to be perfect when I ask her so I still have planning to do.”

The archer scrunched his nose in a faux look of disgust, “God, when did you become such a romantic? What are they feeding you over there in that castle?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “You’ll understand if things work out between you and Laura.”

As they approached the exit gate, the face of Lord Stark became clearer. He was exchanging a few words with each knight as they left, some deciding to shake the nobles hand as well.

When it was their turn, Clint gave a firm nod of his head and held out a hand for Lord Stark to shake.

“I wouldn’t suppose some new bows and arrows were included in this upgrade as well?”

Lord Stark raised his eyebrows, “Wouldn’t be much of a weapon upgrade if I left those out now would it?“

As Clint thanked him, Starks eyes now focused on Natasha when she stepped up, giving him a small smile of gratitude.

“Thank you for helping us out. It is much appreciated.” she said.

“Of course,” he gave a nod of his head. Just as the pair of knights went to leave he spoke up again, “Romanoff, right? The one with the Princess?”

Natasha turned back to him with a look of confusion etched on her face at the reason for his question.

“That would be me,” the redhead answered. “May I ask why?”

“No reason. Just surprised you two are still together is all.”

“Excuse me?”

Lord Stark laughed lightly, “Oh don’t get me wrong it is adorable. You know, the whole childhood sweetheart thing.”

“So what seems to be the problem?” a displeased frown settled upon the knights eyebrows.

“I’m only shocked she isn’t bored of you yet with how long you’ve been together.” he chuckled, “I mean she is the Princess. Plenty of people have their eyes on her, and who’s to say she hasn’t been looking at them too?”

“What’s it to you?” Natasha snapped, “What is the point you’re trying to make here?”

She didn’t even know why she still standing there listening to him, much less engaging in the frustrating conversation.

“Relax, I was only joking. No need to get so defensive.” the noble chuckled.

“Well then I guess I failed to understand what was funny about anything you said,” Natasha said as she readjusted the bag on her shoulder, “Have a good rest of your day, Lord Stark.”

With that, the redhead brushed past the man and stormed out of the courtyard.

She didn’t know how she managed to stay talking to him for that long, but she knew if she stuck around any longer things probably wouldn’t have ended the best way for either of them.

The archer was quick to catch up to his best friend, a look of concern now sat on his face.

“Are you alright, Nat?” he asked, “The nerve of that man is insane.”

Natasha nodded, “I’ll be fine, I just needed to walk away.”

“You know nothing he said is true, right?” Clint assured, “Y/n loves you and everyone can see that. They’re blind if they don’t.”

“I know,” she said, “I just want to get back and clean up before she gets home. You should probably do the same.”

As hesitant as he was to leave his friend alone, she was right. “Okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

Natasha agreed and said her goodbyes to the man before they went their separate ways.

When you arrived home in the evening, the knight had asked the cooks to prepare your favorite to eat. She’d gathered both of your families in the dining room to share the meal, knowing how much you enjoyed family dinners after being away.

Everything appeared to be just as you had left it. Your mother and Melina were busy with their normal chatter; your father and Alexei chiming in as well. Natasha and Yelena were engaging in their everyday sibling banter.

But despite that Natasha didn’t seem like herself.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was wrong, but it was clear that something was up based on the way she’d occasionally zone out. You’d have to call her name multiple times to gain her attention again.

Even then, she was tense and had a distant look in her eyes. As if she was afraid to look at you for too long.

“Is everything okay, Nat?” you’d asked her several times throughout the night.

Each time she flashed you her usual charming smile that always made you melt, and responded with an “Of course I am, princess. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You weren’t totally convinced.

The suspicions you had were confirmed as everyone was finishing up the last of their dinner and began cleaning up. The redhead had excused herself from the table, but never returned.

About a half hour had passed when worry had finally got the best of you, and you decided to search for your girlfriend. You first looked in the places she frequented most in the castle, but every room you searched you came out empty handed.

With one last place in mind, you made your way through the halls and out the front doors of the castle.

~ ~ ~

Natasha nocked the arrow onto the string and drew it back just as Clint showed her many times before, her eyes locked in on the target set up across the training grounds.

She took a deep breath in, releasing it completely before letting the string go. The arrow slid off her fingertips as it shot through the air and past the target, missing it completely.

The knight huffed and let her arms drop down to her sides as she stared at the still untouched bullseye despite her having shot four others before that.

“I think you’re supposed to be aiming for the target, you do know that right?”

Natasha turned to see you making your way over to her. She laughed and set the bow down as she sat on the grass. You joined her, deciding that this was more important than your mother lecturing you over the dress that would inevitably become dirty.

“I guess today is just not my day,” she shrugged.

“Anything you want to talk about?” you wondered, giving her the floor to speak freely, “You weren’t exactly acting like yourself at dinner.”

Natasha should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to hide this from you. You knew her like the back of your hand, and vice versa. Nothing ever got past the other.

“I just missed you is all,” she answered, giving you a small smile for extra reassurance.

Once again, you weren’t fooled.

“I missed you too, Nat. But that doesn’t explain it since I’m home now.” you said.

The redhead went silent, chirping from the crickets hiding out in the trees filling the air instead. She had no grounds to deny your words because she knew you’d see right through her.

“So what’s actually going on? Did something happen while I was gone?”

Natasha shook her head, “It’s nothing, really. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Well it’s a little too late for that,” you lightly chuckled, “And it’s clearly something if it’s bothering you this much. Was it something I did?”

“No!” she quickly assured, “God no, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“So then talk to me, my love. Please,” you pleaded and reached to take her hand, your thumb stroking over the back of her palm.

The knight sighed and forced herself to look straight ahead. The gentleness in your eyes made her want to tell you everything.

Every thought she’s ever had, every secret she’s ever kept, every feeling she’s ever felt. That’s just the effect you had on her.

You made everything okay.

The worries and stresses plaguing her mind just seemed to dissipate little by little until they were gone whenever she was with you.

And as much as Natasha fell in love with you because of that, she was now questioning if she even deserved to have you look at her the way you were.

“Do you ever think about what it would be like if you’d chosen someone else to be with?”

Your eyes slightly widened as your mouth opened just to shut again multiple times in disbelief.

“What?”

Out of all the things you could’ve predicted her to say, that was not one of them.

“You’ve never been with anyone before me. We became exclusive as teenagers, and you just stuck with me.” Natasha explained, and you nodded to confirm what she said was true.

“Do you not ever wonder what it’d feel like to be with someone else?”

“Nat, where is this coming from?” you asked, “Have you been thinking about that for a while, or did someone say something?”

The redhead finally looked at you, sadness evident in her gaze, “Lord Stark stopped by during training.” she said, and you had a good idea of where this was going now.

“He made us some new equipment and when I went to talk to him, he said he was surprised you were still with me. That he was shocked you hadn’t gotten bored yet.”

You had first hand experience working with the noble during council meetings for the kingdom and his ideas were beneficial, but he was also notorious for his filterless mouth.

A sigh left your lips and you squeezed her hand, “Nat, I don’t think Lord Stark has ever kept a woman around for more than a few weeks, so he’s probably familiar with people getting tired of him.” you chuckled.

Natasha cracked a smile, but it was short lived.

“You don’t think he has a point, though?”

“No, I do not.” you said. You wish you could slap Lord Stark for making her feel like this. “I’ve never wanted anyone else because I found everything I need in you.”

The redhead looked down at your connected hands, fighting the urge to fidget with your finger she hoped to soon have decorated with the ring in the bag lying next to her. She opted to interlace your fingers instead.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me just because I’m your first relationship.”

“Oh, Nat. Come here,” you tugged on her hand and guided the knight to lay on her side, her head resting safely in your lap. “You don’t understand how perfect you are.”

Your fingers began to run through her messily braided her, brushing back the loose strands from in front of her face. Natasha immediately relaxed under your touch.

“Perfect might be a bit of a stretch,” she murmured.

“I don’t think it is,” you disagreed, “You look out for your parents, and Yelena, and the people you love. Even people you don’t know because you’re so selfless.”

Now that you’ve started, you could probably go on for hours about all the reasons you chose Natasha Romanoff over anybody else. You probably would because it’s clear she needs to hear them in this moment.

“And you’re just as sweet with me. The way you take care of me. The way you always know what I need before I even know myself. It’s like you have a sixth sense,” you giggled and you felt the redhead chuckle against you too.

“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you because to me you’re just so perfect in every way imaginable.”

That was when Natasha decided to maneuver onto her back instead, now staring straight up at you.

“There you are,” you grinned softly down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Your head tilted as your fingers continued to card through her red strands, “For what?”

“I don’t know why I was acting like that. I was being ridiculous.”

“Nat, you were not being ridiculous. You were feeling vulnerable and that’s okay. You don’t have to act like you’re fine when you’re not around me.”

“I know,” Natasha said and took your freehand to bring it up so she could press a kiss to the back of it. “I know, princess. I love you so much,”

You smiled softly at her and leaned down enough to connect your lips. It was slow and gentle, you just wanted her to know you were here and not going anywhere.

When you pulled back you didn’t go very far, your face still hovering centimeters above hers, “Hey,” you mumbled.

She opened her eyes at that to meet your gaze.

“It’s you, and it’ll only ever be you. Okay?”

Natasha softly smiled against yours lips and nodded, “Okay,”

You gave her one last peck before urging her to sit up when you began standing, “Alright, now show me how it’s really done.”

The knight stood up as well and watched you pick up her bow along with another arrow from the bag. She rose an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she looked at you amusingly.

“What are you doing?” Natasha chuckled.

You pushed the weapon into her hands before backing away, “I want to watch you practice,” you answered simply.

Natasha shook her head, “As much as I love it when you watch, I think you’d just be disappointed.”

“Come on, just try one more time, please?”

Of course, the redhead struggled to say no to your face. Natasha sighed and turned towards the target once again, correcting her stance like she’d done earlier and nocked the arrow.

Drawing back the string, she precisely aimed the arrow and exhaled a deep breath before letting go. The knight expected it to miss by a long shot like they had earlier, but was proven wrong when it landed dead center in the bullseye.

You had an innocent smile on your face when Natasha turned to look back at you, like you had known she’d hit the bullseye when you first forced the bow into her hands.

“What was that about today not being your day?” you wondered.

God, you really did make everything okay.

Natasha broke into a big grin and motioned you towards her, “Come here,” she said.

Your head tilted slightly at her request, but still made your way over to her, “What?”

She just chuckled. “I want to show you how to shoot a bow,”

The redhead was now realizing that she’d probably be needing that ring much sooner than she originally thought.

~ end ~

Authors Note PT 2: I don’t know if I like this one but here it is! Also I finally decided to give the commander a name and add in Clint bc you can’t have a Natasha series without her best friend ofc

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Promise

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: The first time you patch up an injured Natasha.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Descriptions of wounds | Terribly written medical talk | Mentions of violence and knives

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

Mini-oneshots: Forever

(Takes place around 17 years old)

You entered the castle with your mother at your side. You had just finished sitting in on a meeting that your parents had attended with some of neighboring kingdoms.

With you finally becoming of age to understand at least the majority of what they were discussing, your mother and father wanted you to get some first hand experience at helping to make important decisions.

As you talked you rounded the corner to the hallway that held the library where you'd planned to get in some studying, but the words coming out of your mother's mouth had faded to the back of your mind once you saw Yelena rushing towards you.

She looked frantic, but you noticed how she toned it down to a more presentable manner after laying eyes on the Queen beside you.

Your eyebrows furrowed seeing her approach you as though she were on a mission, and your mother had now stopped talking realizing that you were no longer paying attention.

"Hey, Yelena. Is everything okay?" you greeted the blonde.

Yelena looked between the two of you before answering, "Yeah. Yeah, I just needed you for...something...real quick."

Your mother cleared her throat to get your attention, "I'm going to go find your father. Don't forget to look over the information from today, okay honey?"

"Of course." you nodded your head in understanding, "I'll see you later." you said before she excused herself.

You turned back to the blonde with a now more concerned look, "What's going on? What's wrong?" you asked.

She almost struggled to find an answer before responding, "I think it's better for you to just see for yourself..." Yelena trailed off as she grabbed your wrist into her hand and led you through the hallways.

The two of you ended up in front of your bedroom door which confused you even more as she pulled you inside and quickly shut the door behind you, but your heart dropped at the sight in front of you when you turned around.

Natasha was sat on your bed looking as if she'd just been in a fight.

A bad one at that.

Her face was scuffed with dirt, her knuckles were bloodied and bruised, but that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst part was the area on her shoulder that her hand was clutching to stop it from bleeding, but you could see it clearly wasn't doing a very good job.

"I tried to take her to the infirmary, but she wouldn't go. She told me to bring her to you, but one of the maids said that you weren't here so I had to go find you." Yelena explained.

"Oh my god, Nat. What happened?" you asked as you rushed to your girlfriend’s side.

Your eyes zeroed in on the open wound on her shoulder. Her breath hitched when you moved her hand out of the way to get a better look. You muttered an apology before putting her hand back and quickly grabbing a hand towel from your closet.

"You should see the other guys." the redhead chuckled but her smile was replaced with a wince when you moved her hand again to use the towel to apply pressure instead.

Natasha knew you didn't find her joke very funny based on the glare you sent her way.

"She got into a fight with some thieves down at the docks. I told her it wasn't a good idea, but she wouldn't listen and now here we are." Yelena said.

This time it was Natasha's turn to glare at her sister for ratting her out, but Yelena didn't pay any mind to the look she was given.

"Jesus christ," you mumbled. "And you decided you wanted to bleed out on my bed right now instead of in the infirmary with a doctor because?"

The redhead winced again when you shifted to be able to inspect the rest of her body for any other injuries, "I thought you would be able to treat it. Didn't your parents make you take first aid lessons from the doctor a few years ago? You know, for your studies?"

"Yes, but the doctor at the infirmary is a professional." you counteracted. "They would do a much better job than I would at making sure this doesn't get infected."

"Please, Y/n." Natasha said, "I could get in so much trouble if my commander found out I was getting into fights before I even finished my training."

You sighed as you thought for a moment. She's obviously set on not going to the doctor, and you have to do something soon to stop it from getting worse so you really had no choice.

As you stood up from the bed the knights eyes followed you, "Take your top off and keep putting pressure on this." you told her before making your way to your bathroom.

Yelena took this as her cue to leave, "I'm gonna go now. I'll come back to check on you in a bit." she said and Natasha nodded, watching her slip through the door and shut it behind her.

After a little struggle the redhead managed to eventually pull her shirt over her head, leaving her in a tank top.

When you returned a moment later you had a clean towel and a first aid kit in hand. You sat back down next to her and removed the dirty towel to begin cleaning her wound.

It wasn’t as bad as it had looked before when you finally got the bleeding to stop. Either way seeing her like this scared you more than you’d let on.

You worked in silence for a while. The only sounds filling the room being the occasional winces and grunts from Natasha when the pain hurts a little more. Each time you mumbled a quick "sorry" before continuing.

"Are you mad at me?" Natasha spoke into the quiet air.

You didn't answer right away which just worried her even more, but when you did it wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"No," you responded, "I'm not mad at you. You just scared me, I mean what were you even thinking?"

“I don’t know,” the redhead said, “I don’t even know if I was thinking. I just…reacted.”

Natasha watched your concentrated face. Sometimes she couldn't help but just stare at it. At this point she had every detail of it memorized like the back of her hand. Which wasn't very helpful when she was currently being scolded by you.

"Did you even have any of your equipment when you decided to pick a fight with them?" you asked.

The young knight shook her head, "No, but I couldn't just watch it happen. There were four of them and one of them had a knife. I had to do something or else people might’ve gotten hurt.”

“People did get hurt, Natasha. You got hurt.”

Natasha hung her head in defeat at your words. “I know.” she said. “I know and I’m sorry for putting you through this. You shouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of my actions. It’s not fair to you.”

You sighed and put down the supplies you were using so you could finally look at her. She held a guilty expression and it made you feel bad for getting upset with her. Your hand came up to her face in an attempt to wipe away some of the dirt with your thumb and fix her messy hair.

“Nat, I get that you just wanted to do the right thing. That’s one of the things I love most about you.” you spoke softly and she gave you a small smile, “I just worry so much. This could’ve been so much worse than some bruises and a knife wound.”

“I got lucky, I know.” she admitted. “Yelena was right I should’ve listened to her and it was stupid of me not to.”

Your gaze went back and forth between both of her eyes. You could’ve gotten lost in her vibrant green orbs if you didn’t still have to finish patching her up before someone came looking for you.

“Just promise me that you’ll be more careful going forward. I don’t want this to ever happen again because I love you too much to be able to handle it if it did.”

Natasha quickly nodded her head, “I promise, and I love you too.”

You leaned in to connect your lips in a soft kiss, needing a reminder that she was here with you and safe.

The redhead obviously didn’t want you to pull away with the way she chased after your lips when you pulled back. You had to press your hand against her chest in order to keep a distance between the two of you.

“As much as I would love to keep going, I think you might need a few stitches to help that shoulder heal.” you said.

Natasha just groaned. She wasn’t even sure if the dissatisfaction she felt was because she had to go through the pain of getting stitches, or because you broke the kiss. The redhead came to the conclusion that it was because of both.

The noise made you giggle and you began sifting through the first aid kit for a needle and some thread. “I’ve only ever practiced this using fruits, so bear with me. I still think you should’ve gone to the doctor instead.”

She just shrugged her uninjured shoulder, “Why would I when I have my own personal nurse right here. And she’s cute too.” Natasha smirked.

You playfully rolled your eyes at that last comment, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself there. I still have to take a look at those knuckles and clean your face up.”

“What? I thought you liked my face.” she pouted.

“You know I do, but I don’t like the fact that it looks as if someone just dragged you through the dirt.”

Natasha scoffed, “For the record, I won, of course. They were after that bakery you love by the boats. The owner said that my next order would be on the house as a thanks for my help, so I think you should be thanking me.” she spoke proudly.

You just stared at your girlfriend in disbelief. As much as you didn’t understand how she was able to laugh and joke about the situation, you appreciated it because it took your mind off of the bad thoughts that clouded your mind.

It reminded you that your Natasha was still there and you couldn’t be more grateful for her.

“Instead of thinking about that you should be figuring out how you’re going to hide this from your parents when they come back from their trip.”

~ end ~