Phantoga

21 y/o Imagine, if you would, a possum but with slightly more anxiety. But with access to Ao3 In speaking of Ao3, mine is Phantoga I’ll take requests anytime

[huesohnobro]

When I Go, Bury Me in Six Feet Of Snow

Black Widow x Reader

12k+ Words, Smut about halfway through!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, brief suicidal ideation, blood and fighting, angst, Natasha being just so hot with you

Description:

You are an agent for shield who has been serving for a long time, sometimes this means facing tough missions, and even tougher choices.

Natasha is always there to put you back together in the best way you respond to.

This is my first time writing smut, I hope whoever reads this enjoys it as much as I did writing it!!

You had been doing this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean any of it gets easier. You had mentored plenty of young agents, had run endless combat and infiltration scenarios for those who were green to the field, had put in more work than all but two agents in all of S.H.I.E.L.D., said agents now being your fellow “superheroes”.

You had never had to, however, explain to set of twins that no, you cannot just give Captain America vertigo to get out of PT. Your brows pinched at the young twenty-somethings overlapping voices, rubbing your temples in slow circles as you sighed and stood from the desk of your “office”. It was really just a room in the compound you had commandeered for battle and mission preparation a couple of times before being sent out, but eventually somehow a desk and Stark brand computer found its way into the glassed in space, as well as various other accoutrement.

Maps of various countries, a small coffee machine (courtesy of a certain archer), photographs from missions and group outings, a cat tower for the various roaming felines of the Avengers, souvenirs from choice missions of your past, and now two far too powerful college-aged kids.

“Okay so, stop me when I say something wrong here- Your original plan was to invade his mind-” the witch nodded sheepishly, her dark hair waving down her shoulders as she did,

“But you felt that might not go over well considered your… past.. So instead you agreed to send a psy-pulse to his ear drums while running him forward at 40 miles per hour.”

The fairer of the Maximoff twins grinned proudly up at you, platinum-bleached hair shocking against the silver-blue of his jacket. 

“No no, that would be a lie. It was 40 kilometers per hour, not nearly as fast, I could’ve made it much worse if I counted by miles.”

Another deep exhale streamed through your nose, you couldn’t tell if you should be frustrated by the two, or slightly proud of their pseudo-delicate application of their respective powers.

“Okay kids-”

The witch shifted in her seat, arms crossed as she refused to make eye contact, dark lashes and darker eye makeup to divert her gaze from your gently disappointed one, “We’re 22.”

You walked around your desk to their side, knowing where they were coming from but rolling your eyes at both the technicality and their lack of understanding regarding the essence of your point. 

“Exactly, now, as I was saying. You’re being placed under new supervision within the program due to this incident.”

The speedster’s grin faltered slightly as Wanda finally looked up at you, her eyes watery with the idea that she and her brother caused too much trouble this time. She knew she should’ve reeled him in.. now Steve wouldn’t forgive them, and missions would be awkward, and they’d be alone with themselves again and-

Her tanned, ringed hands reached out to clasp her brother’s slender ones as they waited for you to continue. 

“Relax, no one is mad at you, if anything Rogers is impressed with your advanced planning skills.” 

The corner of the witch’s mouth curved up, matched by her brother.

“So impressed in fact, he decided that you two needed a program more specialized to your unique abilities and strategic prowesses. You’ll be mentored by myself and Agent Romanov now.”

The two froze, a deep groan coming from Pietro’s throat as his head fell into his hands as Wanda spoke up, albeit calmly, for the two of them.

“Isn’t that a… bit much?”

“Not at all, you’re dismissed.”

The twins both rose, muttering to each other in their native tongue as they made their stage right exit. They were right to grumble, your reputation as well as Natasha’s preceded themselves. With Natasha’s enhanced physical prowess, and your control over your own power alongside of your own personal infiltration and combat expertise, you made a formidable duo with countless hours of experience. 

You both had to, after all. Your individual pasts had made you into the… well. Hero wasn’t the right word for you. Maybe for Natasha, but not for you. Soldier, that was more accurate.

You had undertaken some arduous tasks for the safety of the people, had run some difficult courses. 

No one got that like Natasha, except maybe Clint, you like to think that’s what drew you together. You didn’t care about the blood on her hands, or the voices that haunted her nightmares, you saw the force for good that she could become better than anyone. Who were you to judge after all, you had been a force of destabilization, of neutralization and subduement, a force of harm weaponized for the greater good, for as long as you can remember.

The fact that you reminded her of home was probably also a bonus, to be fair. The Russian loved the cold despite herself, associated it with her “foster” family more than her time in the red room, and so the fact that you had the genetic ability to manipulate, produce, and become ice. Molecular Cryo-kinesis, Tony had called it, you remember when you had first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., the hours spent in their labs as they studied your limits, your form, the way you still remained somehow.. Organic. 

You remember the first time you were shattered, you remember how Natasha had pieced you together, waited with you in the hospital rooms that glared with far-too-bright of fluorescent lighting for the two of you, was the first and the last person to make sure you were okay. It was so soon after Clint had recruited her that it was well, shocking. It cemented your personal bond and loyalty to her in a way that no mission alone ever could.

You don’t remember exactly when your friendship, your bond had turned physical, you just knew it would never feel right with anyone else, never had felt right with anyone before she had touched you after that fateful night…

She was excited to whip the Maximoff’s into shape with you, had told you during a late night spent together with a bottle of wine and an empty compound. 

You had chilled the glasses yourself, just the way she had liked it, picked the movie you knew she would like best, and in turn she brought the snacks and the blanket she knew you loved most.

Truly the fact that you ended up undressed in her bed, yet again, later in the night was sheer romantic coincidence. 

With your office now empty, and your stomach grumbling slightly, you made your way to the kitchen. The TV was on in the common room, some SNL rerun that Steve had Bucky watching because the show was “a great way to get in touch with the times” as Sam pointed out every secret little reference and piece of historical knowledge necessary to help his friend better get the comedian’s skits. Now that you thought about it, it was entirely possible that the Winter Soldier was where Wanda had gotten her more-intense eye makeup from; you’d have to ask her about it, or recommend some of the albums you had listened to in younger days for her to give a try.

It was in the kitchen that you had found your spy, resting her weight onto the counter by her elbows as she peered through the bar to the television, winking at you as you entered her temporary domain. Silent recognition of each other and what you meant to each other filled the room as you reached into the fridge for packed leftovers. The nature of your relationship to the spy was, well, private. Not out of necessity, but rather the desire to have something, one sole thing, to yourselves in your crazy world of superheroics. 

“You start on the twins' endurance training program yet, Frosty?”

A twisting feeling stirred in your gut as she smiled at you, the nickname was a favorite of hers for you. It made you smile. You silently prayed to the gods above as you removed the lid from the food container, hoping for something good to grace your eyes and the microwave rather than some sad chicken and rice meal that Steve swore was worth the macros. 

“I thought Ms. ‘I swim for an hour and then immediately go for a jog to decompress’ would want to handle that. I’ll get on it though, I already took care of the enhancement and power efficacy routines”

Marinated beef and broccoli stared back at you, the dish you had made for the group just two nights before, sliding easily into the microwave. Natasha turned to face you, twinkle in her eye and easy smile present as she spoke

“Well, that just leaves strength and agility then,” 

The timer went off quickly, meaning either Tony or Peter likely modified the microwave to supe it up.

“You take agility, I take strength?”

The tupperware was hot in your hands as you made the suggestion, digging into a silverware drawer for the right fork. 

“Why not give me both, Frosty?”

You hummed and rested your back on the edge of the counter next to her, leaning close and smirking as she took the fork from your hands and stole the first bite of your, apparently now shared, dish.

“We both know I’m stronger than you Tash, you want me to prove that to you again?”

Her laugh was light, beautiful as she lightly bumped you with her shoulder.

“I can think of a few ways for us to do that.”

Your banter, and your lunch, was interrupted by the buzzing of a pager clipped to your belt. The assassin and you froze, she had a similar one on her at all times, it was for special purposes.

Missions that the team couldn’t handle the weight of, missions that were dirty, a higher than average burden on your average hero.

The jobs you did weren’t the kind of thing you sent an avenger to do, they weren’t good for PR, they didn’t make headlines. They were wiped from records, hidden deep into files, scrubbed from the memories of survivors with specially formulated technology.

It was the kind of work that the two of you specialized in, but only you were being called upon this afternoon. It made you wonder what exactly Fury was about to ask of you that it needed solo execution, it made Natasha’s skin crawl with the possibility of you getting injured. She kept a brave face, had to due to who was just outside of the room. You left the food for her and gently took her hand into yours before squeezing it and walking away. 

It took you an hour to get briefed on the mission, an hour to prepare for the infiltration and extraction, and three to travel to the winter snow cloaked country in which the base you were soon to raid was hidden. A splinter cell of HYDRA shacked themselves up in the frozen wilds of Canada and had been sloppy about their trafficking in of young men and women with specific genetic markers traceable to their birth. A S.H.I.E.L.D. plant had reported the bunker’s findings, research on genetic strands and lines that cause meta-human status, research on how to forcibly trigger such.. Mutations.. to activate. 

Fury was smart, the topic hit close to home. You weren’t ever quite human to begin with, neither were these kids. The case reminded you of the Maximoff twins, and that made you just angry enough not to question why Fury wanted the research brought to him rather than destroyed where it was collected.

Your mission was simple: Get in, set detonation charges across the facility, steal any files that exist regarding their mutate research, leave and bring the house down so that no one could ever use the facility for anything ever again. Eliminate anyone who gets in your way, and leave nothing but a pile of rubble in the snow. 

It was a perfect environment for you after all, they wouldn’t be expecting just one person to come if someone did want to halt their efforts. 

They certainly wouldn’t be expecting someone from the morgue.

The hero operating under your codename was thought to be long dead, after-all. A noble sacrifice made in the Ultron Crisis to save the life of Hawkeye and an unknown young man. 

It was Hill’s idea, to show that the Avengers truly do risk everything for the people, and so that there would be a more personal link for America to mourn the loss felt all over the world.

As far as the splinter cell knew, Glacier was long gone.

It's a shame really, that you were on a blackbird flying at breakneck speeds towards them.

The chill of the air felt natural as you manipulated the snow to cover your tracks on the ground behind you, running ahead towards the base and leaving the jet in the middle of the woods, a safe place to rendezvous. Breaking in was simple enough, light security outside, anyone who could have caught you frozen into a husk of a person that once was, and shattered with the force of your fist. You entered through a ground ventilation access point, freezing hand and foot holds into the walls in order to climb higher, having memorized all paths through the building hours before. Staff at the facility was minimal, a necessity to keep the secret of their work. Eight guards on floor one, ten on two, thirteen guards and four scientists on the floor that you needed to extract the information from, according to intel. 

You prayed, for their sake, that the information was accurate as you placed the first charge of many onto the vent wall, setting and arming more as you travelled before exiting into the empty hall of the third floor. They were the first of many, individual pieces for set up nestled into pouches placed strategically on your body for ease of access and defense. Placing your hand on the wall, you felt for any vibrations before flash-freezing the concrete to cook any wiring, melting the water taken from the air as fast as it was crystalized and sneaking towards the point of interest. Three men stood before you, likely more behind the door, it didn't matter. 

None of them did, only the objective was of importance.

Opening your palm, you crystalized the air around it to form a knife, launching it from your crouched position towards one of the HYDRA guards, his body crumpling to the ground as his comrades began to shoot in your direction. Freezing your body, you launched a path of ice forward and used it to slide into the nearest goon. As he took the hit, he also took aim, forcing you to grab the barrel of the gun. The bullet hit the palm of your hand, jamming it in the opening of the now useless piece of metal machinery. A flash of fear could be seen in his eyes as you struck your palm against his chest, a spike of ice tearing through him as you shoved him into the third attacker. You speared them both clean through with ease, their last breaths visible in the air as red lights began to flash and a siren whirred in the halls.

Gunshots were suspicious, the reaction was probably granted from the control room, though it likely means that the emergency order was sent from a different location of the building. 

Taking a deep breath, you blasted the door that blocked you from the research and the monsters who conducted it with cold energy that coursed through your veins. 

It was a good thing you had fueled up on the jet, this much usage of your power would fatigue you without proper diet-prep. 

You hoped the team’s dinner was going well tonight, it was Wanda’s day to cook. That was always exciting.

There was simultaneously a scramble and a mad dash from the inhabitants of the room, “civilians” making a rush attempt to escape up to the surface as soldiers attacked you. You thrived in the rush, sending walls of ice to box in who you could to be dealt with later, maneuvering around combatant after combatant to get to the central data-bank where you slid in your drive. Your frozen body tanked the bullets for you, but you had to admit to yourself somewhere inside that you were getting tired. As the files began to download, you cased the bank in a protective shell. Couldn’t risk a lucky shot ruining your hard work so far, and so came the task of subduing the room. Fighters came at you in throngs, gunman posted at the wall to cover their more brawling inclined companions. It was smart, turn the fight into a jumping, overwhelm and dismantle. By all means it would have worked on anyone else.

It’s not the best option when someone can make a copy of themselves that freezes whatever it touches on contact, or when the poor soul who touched the copy could then be manipulated into becoming a spear against their friends. 

Sharp points shot out of the perma-frosted corpse. A fitting end, according to you. This is what happens to those who play god, this is what happens to those who subjugated and treat other human beings as disposable lessers.

The rest of the room was easy enough to handle, morale by that point had been broken, and your blood had begun to run cold.

Your head swam as you melted the ice around the cpu, removing the flashdrive and slipping it into your pocket. You were so tired.. You burned more energy than you intended during that fight, maybe you shouldn’t have given Tash your lunch earlier. 

Your hands shook as you rigged the data storage to explode, the flashdrive in your pocket feeling heavy as you looked up at the screen. It was then that you caught what was projected upon them. Experiment numbers, chamber locations, protocols. All information transferred to you now, but more importantly people in need of saving…

People like you.

People like Wanda and Pietro.

You knew what you had to do, you couldn’t just leave them here, they were too young, didn’t understand what they had become, were too important to be left here to rot under rubble, were in need of your help. 

You scanned the floor for a weapon, snatching a gun off of the floor mid step, looking high as the alarms blared and lights flashed in warning. Anything that you could use to defend yourself outside of your powers would be a small boon, an opportunity for a quick reprieve so you could start to recharge. 

Four targets for extraction, one down, three to go. Your head swiveled around as you rushed through the halls, searching for any cameras that may be tracking your movement, your ascent and depositing of items specially tailored to bring the facility into the cold earth. You wondered how the prisoners would react when you found them, if they would be grateful, perhaps angry, definitely terrified. You would hold on to hope for them, it was all you had during times and actions like these. 

So you ran and you wondered.

You wondered if they would acclimate well to the environment in the tower, wondered if they would need help with schooling when they were deprogrammed, and you wondered if they would be friends with the current kid-avengers. You wanted that for them, some semblance of normalcy.

Your imagination was halted as you reached the first door, reaching into your belt and pulling a taser from it. You never personally saw the combat potential of it, given the numerous other ways you had to stop someone in their tracks, but Natasha insisted that you kept one on you. 

“You need options for when you’re tired, you can’t just blast your way through everything.”

At the time you thought she was teasing you for your lack of finesse with your abilities, but you’d have to genuinely thank her for the gift when you returned to her. Taking the taser, you jammed it into the doors locking mechanism and pressed the trigger, circuitry frying and sliding the metal panel open. 

God.. she couldn’t have been older than sixteen, the girl before you. She shrank into the corner as you stepped in, jumpsuit torn, skin dirty and scratched. She looked up at you with wide eyes glowing, a slight vibration in the air building as her fear did. You raised your hands in front of you as you lowered closer to her height, crouched down and offering a hand out to her carefully. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m here to get you out.”

She flinched on the word out, the red lights outside making your form seem more intimidating to her, but you didn’t move until she reached out for you. When you picked her up, you did it as though a father would their child who had just stumbled: carefully, gently, placing her on solid feet before ushering her through the door. She muttered something low, in a language you hadn’t practiced in quite some time.

You’d have to brush up for her, so that she’d have someone to talk to, someone who knew how smart she was in her home language so she wouldn’t have to worry about any false inadequacies.

There were two more in the hall after her, one older, one younger, two boys who looked nothing alike but had the same hunger and fear in their eyes. The older of the two took more coaxing, but recognized the other experimentation victims at your side, choosing trust over terror.

It was a choice all of you had to make at some point in your life, you were glad his came today. 

You led them efficiently, a human bulwark to keep them steady as they walked through the trauma filled halls. It was going well, all according to plan and then some.

You knew somewhere deep down that you had gotten off too easy, were too lucky.

The physical toll of maintaining your frozen form was mounting, all but the offensively oriented covering of your arms dissipating as you navigated the emptied and bloodied halls.

Emptied except for one person: waiting by the sole exit with a sinister smile and para-military uniform. When he spoke, his voice was accented in the way that was indistinguishable, as though he never spoke as solely himself, and therefore had no true place of vocal origin.

“If you wanted to take the merchandise for a test run, you should’ve gone through proper channels. I’m afraid I’m going to have to end your little game of playing savior here, however.” He sighed as he loaded a gun with some strange, fluid, capsule. “We do not allow for free trials, and so I will be having to take both yourself and the chattel behind you with me as payment for your fun.”

He took aim, and as he pressed the trigger on his weapon, you did the same for yours. Only one shot rang out though, bullet piercing the man’s liver as a red mist filled the air, surrounding you and the young ones behind you. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, but it was too late for the others. As you turned to face them, you watched and listened as bodies contorted and deep, guttural noises ripped through their throats. 

It was grotesque, the way their powers changed their skin and bone and muscle into something that could only half-way handle their might. Their screams were constant as you tried to console them, but something in them was too far gone.

The force caused by the gas had broken their minds. 

You just had to wait for them to burn out, then you could take them home, get them medical attention, that escape and peace that they deserved.

You just had to wait.

Waiting was easier said than done when the older of the two rushed you, body moving as though on autopilot, hands reaching into the floor and coming back made of the same concrete. His body was covered in stone grey as he rushed you, slamming his fist towards your ribs. You blocked with your arms, bruising force cracking the ice that covered them and knocking the gun from your grip. You grit your teeth and focused on amplifying your defense, you couldn’t hurt him.

A knee crushed into your abdomen, knocking the breath out of you as the girl rose to her feet, red energy filling her eyes. You swore the air beside you sizzled before the shot was fired, clipping your ear with immolating heat, the kind that cauterized the wound before it was even allowed to bleed. 

You dropped low and swept the stone-man’s feet, diverting what little energy you had to spare to your shin in order to make the impact count. He stomped down, clearly a more inexperienced fighter, mind-numbed anger the only expression on his face as you rolled away. Another blast from the girl cut down your arm with precision, almost like she could sense where you were and weren’t frozen..

Infrared vision was always a problem for you.

Rolling to your feet, you stood between the two fighters. In your peripheral you could see the crumpled mess of the body that once was the third victim. Bile rose in your throat as you taunted the boy, getting him to rush into you as the girl fired another shot. This time it was a concentrated beam rather than a singular optic blast, cutting your rib before you vaulted over the wall that rushed towards you. She had potential to her, they both did. You’d help them explore it.

You had to, all that you needed to do was outlast.

You were built to last, you could do this all day.

Apparently they could too, the heat of the laser had melted part of the boy’s abdomen and yet he still stood. Based on the depth of the cut though, there was something tender hiding underneath, something you knew to target. Quickly you grabbed the gun, and made the calculated risk to shoot the rock-covered combatant in the head to stun him. 

It worked, a little too well for your taste. It was like he had never been dazed before, his steps stumbling as you rushed in. Reconfiguring the ice, you concentrated it to your forearms and fists. You dug deep with your punches and elbows, hitting the melted spot with your dominant strikes repeatedly, bringing the goliath down to his knees. Your breath turned to one of relief. You could focus on one opponent now, albeit an opponent that wanted nothing more than to cook you, to cut you apart.

Goliath and Cutter.. Good names for when… well you could worry about that when you got them out.

 As Goliath fell, a searing beam shot out towards you; on reflex you used your shoulder to shove Goliath forward into the beam’s blast, tucking down and shoving the body towards Cutter. You thought she would stop when the blast hit her companion, you would use the opportunity to subdue her, and then finish off the man in black who caused this altercation to take place.

You thought she would stop.

When you felt the beam start to saw through your arm and shoulder as they supported Goliath, you wanted to believe you were a step out of place.

The blood that warmed your suit wasn’t yours. You knew that, you knew that.

You couldn’t accept that. 

He went dead-weight on you as the beam ended, crushing weight crumbling to the side. A lighter weight shoved you to the ground in the next minute, the ice on your body dissipating completely alongside your hope.

You were so fucking tired. Exhaustion consumed your body as you looked into charged red eyes, as you felt weaker hands hold on to your throat, crushing your windpipe.

You closed your eyes and let yourself sink. It would all be over soon, you felt yourself go numb. It was like she was siphoning your energy into her deadly gaze. Maybe it was for the better, your day of reckoning had come.

You wondered how everyone would feel, when you failed to make it home. You wondered if your body would be recoverable as your fingertips reached into the pocket with the detonator. The charges had a shared timer of five minutes. Ample time for her to get out without that sick fuck who’s laughing behind you, or ample time to be crushed alongside your soon to be corpse. 

You wondered what movie the team would watch tonight, what breakfast they would eat tomorrow, how long it would take for Fury to break the news to them that you were done.

You wondered what Clint would do with your office, if the archer would force everyone to leave it as a ghost’s memorial. You wondered what Natasha would do with your clothing, if she would steal that same jacket of yours she always does or if that would be too painful for her now.

You wondered what she would say for your funeral, the real one rather than the press tour. 

You wondered how different her actual speech would be compared to the one they played on the news.

You saw her as you felt heat emanate from the young girl’s eyes, her red hair in dappled sunlight, the way she smiled when you brought her the coffee she liked, the way she looked at you when the two of you were alone…

Your body reacted without your input, some deep force inside of you that counteracted your choice to allow yourself to die. Your subconscious knew what it wanted, and as always it took it in the brutal fashion necessary to get you away. A burning smell scented the air as you opened your eyes, removing your hand from the girls face to find it covered in a thick layer of ice, smoke and gristle seeping out from underneath. The girl’s body fell onto you, twin holes burned through her skull. 

You moved in a fugue state during those last three minutes, but the greater picture was clear to you as you made your escape, the key things that needed to be reported to fury later on.

The base was cleared, and detonated as you walked away into the snow covered forest, vision blurred and head pounding from your wounds.

The drive was safe on your person, files uncompromised and able to be utilized for later research by S.H.I.E.L.D..

There were no survivors.

The blackbird was devastatingly quiet on its return flight, filled only with the sound of you treating your wounds and eventually your filing of a report to send to Fury during your trip. You only looked at your hands after… you knew you would have to verbally confirm with him the mission report, as well as deliver the payload as soon as you landed.

It came too fast for your liking, you felt as though you should’ve been standing trial… he didn’t care.

You completed the mission, you neutralized all targets, succeeded with all deliverables. You were a good soldier, it didn’t matter than you lost control.

All that mattered was the objective, and that was completed.

Your mind was a haze as you were driven back to the compound. Eyes glassed and far away as you snuck in through a lesser used entrance. You couldn’t look at them, you couldn’t face them, they were heroes. You were an asset, an out of control monster who had made herself into a valuable resource. You made a beeline for your room, locking yourself in to change out of your now damaged mission suit into a normal tee-shirt and comfortable pants.The softness of the fabric was more than you deserved at the moment. You knew this to be true as you lay on your floor. 

Your suit was in tatters, but you couldn’t give it to Tony, not yet. How could you face him, how could you tell him what happened when all it did was highlight your disgusting nature.

How could you call yourself an Avenger when you had slain who very well could’ve been the future of the team. The future alongside the twins your heart so dearly cared for..

How could you train Wanda and Pietro when you had murdered them in a different form? How could you help them adjust, help them improve, usher them into becoming the man and woman they are meant to be when you just cut down two others just like them.

They were so young.

You were young once…

That didn’t matter any more. You weren’t human, you hadn’t been since your mutation catalyzed. Now you were this.. The thing that S.H.I.E.L.D. had made you.

You laid there until you couldn’t hear anyone outside anymore, until restless energy buzzed under your skin, begging to be let out.

The only person who could do that for you was Natasha… the only person who could understand was Natasha… you needed to go to her.

You know she was made aware when you had returned, always was despite your best efforts, something about cutting a deal with Tony that no one else knew about. Through thick and thin, FRIDAY always made her aware of your existence, of your still beating heart pumping through the halls.

You like to think that's why she was always ready for you, that devil's bargain.

Your feet dragged as you silently stalked through the halls, soul guiding you more than mind to the outskirts of Natasha’s abode. You stared at the door for what felt like an hour, mental war raging on whether or not you deserved to see her. No matter if you did or not, she always knew what you needed, always knew your body and your mind.. Natasha was always there for you. The resentment and loathing coursing through you quieted as you put your hand to the door, you waited as a soft voice told you to enter.

Natasha knew, she always knew, you never had to explain anything to her. Never had to present anything to her, had to pretend around her. You just had to “be” around her.

You wanted to be around her. Your heart knew this fundamental truth, even though all you could think of, could hear, could see, could feel, could taste was your misery and the weight of what you’d done.

Your thoughts stopped as soon as you laid eyes on her, all thought being replaced with her, only her as you touched her door and heeded her beckoning.

The door opened, your shadow looming against the gently illuminated floor. Candles scented and lit the room, swathed it in a proverbial fog of vanilla and lavender that led you to the figure sat before you. The couch in Natasha’s room was old, worn soft by heavy usage prior to its inevitable exodus from the tower’s common living area. Rather than being shucked to the streets, the team’s red-headed assassin saved it and brought it into her abode.

She had a knack for that sort of thing.

Natasha sat waiting, you knew in your heart but not yet in your head that she was only waiting like this for you. Right arm rested on the back of the couch, she lolled her head in your direction with an easy smile and a wolf-like stare; the candles made her eyes glow. She looked ethereal, and so you were drawn into her presence like a poor sailor to that of a siren: only you were far more fortunate. 

Your feet were rooted to the floor when you stepped in front of her, haunted eyes peering down at the relaxed figure before you. It was a look she had seen before, it was a look she had given you before in the late hours of the night. You had always embraced her warmly in those times of panicked or dissociated need, and she would always comfort you in them as well. She thought you looked like shit. Beautiful shit, her shit most importantly, but still like shit. The shake to your breath was unmistakable, as was the glassed over look in your eyes. When you entered her room it was with an almost perfectly covered limp, but she knew what she was looking for when it came to you.

“Are you going to talk to me yourself or will I have to go back to Fury for more information?”

Your shoulders tensed, fists clenched like you were ready to strike.

“So you…. You know what happened.. What I’ve done.”

The assassin’s gaze softened, her eyes searching your reluctant ones as she stood, reaching to cup your face. You flinched away from her when she moved, your body felt colder than usual under her fingers.

Tonight had gone badly… she hadn’t seen you like this in years, since the Avengers initiative had begun.

“I know what the paperwork shows, right now I’m here for your side of the story, not whatever bullshit Fury and Hill are going to put into the mission logs.”

She lightly put her palm on your ribs, noting the way your body tensed up immediately as her warmth met yours. She’d get you to med-bay in the morning… Right now making sure you were mentally and emotionally stable was more important.

You shook slightly under her touch, refusing to make eye contact with her as you grabbed at her shirt, practically crushing the fabric between your fingers to keep her close.

“I… I couldn’t stop myself… I was going to die and I couldn’t stop myself.”

She walked you back towards the couch, sitting you down at her side and holding you close. She rubbed your back as tears slowly rolled down your cheeks in your admission, voice cracking with the weight of your recent past.

“They were kids, Tash… and I- I wanted to lay there.. I was ready, I swear I was ready to go, to be done with it all.”

Natasha’s heart cracked, just a sliver of it breaking off of her at the implication. At the weight of your words.

“They couldn’t have been older than Peter.. She had me down, I was so tired and she had me down and I was ready to take it, to let her judge me… Then I thought of you, and I lost control.”

This wasn’t blame, Natasha knew that, there was no harshness to your voice, just sorrow and need.

“I killed her.. She was beginning to trust me and I… I killed them all. I was supposed to save them, we would’ve had three new recruits and-”

Your breath shuddered, heaved as she held you tighter in her arms, listening without judgement, without resentment or hatred. There was only acknowledgement and understanding in Natasha’s gaze as you looked at her face.

The face you fought for, the face your body killed for despite the best wishes of your mind.

She kissed your forehead gently before thumbing away your tears, gently pulling you back into a standing position so she could look fully at you.

Her eyes were reverent as she spoke, her hands taking yours firmly.

“We all at times must become monstrous in order to protect and come back to what we love… that does not mean we are monsters ourselves. Do you remember who told me that?”

Your eyes finally met hers, blown wide by the use of your own words against you.

“We always find ourselves trapped in what ifs in our line of work, in the what could have beens, the endless possibilities that we prune for the needs of the people. Of our people.”

Her eyes burned into yours, the heavy feeling in your chest slowly, surely, being lifted enough for you to see her. To see her love for you even in this bleakest of personal moments.

“When we met, I called you soft. Sweet, too compassionate, and crazy for how you treated me with such open understanding. Even when I came to you covered in blood. During those early days you confused me so much, malysh..”

Her lips turned up in the corners, not quite a smile, but a humored look as the candle light made her hair shine like fire.

“Do you remember what you told me? When I blew up at you after the mission in Chile, when you consoled me even as I bled on your carpet and seethed about how you could never understand?”

Your dour, crestfallen face lifted for the briefest of seconds at the memory. It was one of the first instances that you truly knew each other, a basis to what brought you back bruised and haunted into the compound rather than dead.

“I… I never told you what I did for a living.”

She nodded, threading her fingers in between yours. “Yes, and that we are <i>not<i> what we do for a living. I will continue to love you, to respect you, to want you even after this, and after everything else you or I may do. You are my person.”

Wet tears shone under her eyes as her voice cracked. 

“And despite what you may think you have become, I’m happier that you are here with me rather than under the snow where I cant hold you… where I can’t see how beautiful you are or feel how loved, how known you make me.” 

Your knees practically knocked together as you lowered yourself onto them before her, placing your head into her lap. Somewhere inside you still felt sickened with yourself, flames of disappointment and self-loathing threatening to burn the fragile peace Natasha has created within you. Her hands smoothed over your shoulders before carefully taking your face and pointing it towards hers.

“Tell me what you need baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath shuddered out slowly through your mouth before you spoke, guilt and need swirling in your chest and cerebrum.

“I just need you…I always need you.”

Natasha tried not to giggle in the moment, for fear of scaring you away. It had been so long since the tables had been turned on her like this, usually she was the one begging for you after a difficult day. Part of her wanted to relish in the moment, to be greedy and savor your need for her, to dig into your chest and crack open the shell that held such gooey feelings as your desire and adoration. The other parts of her knew better, knew this was a practiced dance between the two of you, and that to change the steps would be sacrilege.

Pushing your head back, she nodded and spread her legs

Your arms wrapped around her calves as she pushed your head back, nodding and spreading her legs. Her gaze was tempered as it focused upon you, a silent reassurance of your actions. Slowly, reverently, you trailed your hands up her legs, feeling the strength hidden beneath both the fabric and her skin. You only stopped when you reached her belt, cold fingertips slipping under the leather wrapped around her waist before gripping on and pulling yourself closer with it as though it were a lifeline. She had done the same to you before on the dance floor in the past, tugging you close, staking her claim to you and any opportunities you may give through the simple act of slipping her hand into your belt and tugging your hips into hers. She cited the heat it brought to your cheeks and the sparks of frost it brought to your palms as all the motivation she needed to grab onto you in that manner. Tony’s parties, like many things in your life, felt so much better with the assassin in attendance; but now was not the time to contemplate such feelings. Natasha spread her legs carefully, allowing for your chin to rest between her thighs as she brought her left hand to cup your cheek. Sliding from the side of your face down to your jaw, her hand was cool, grounding as you pressed your now cooling cheek into the warmth of her thigh. A soft smirk spread onto her lips with the act, sighing with satisfaction as your grip tightened. The day had been hard, and you were so, so tired. You need her, and she will take from you until you are whole again. Only she can stir your soul from its zombified daze, only she can spark life back into the husk that your work has made you become on this night; as though she was a mad scientist with a patchwork corpse. 

Only Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, could put you back together. That is why you kneel before her with begging eyes and bated breath. 

“Take it off of me, no looking away either. I want you to see just how much I’m enjoying this, how much I’m going to make you enjoy this.” 

Your body was practically buzzing as she forced your gaze to remain on her, your neck jerking back slightly against her grip on instinct: some small, animal part of you warning you of the dangers of the woman before you. None of that mattered to you though, not when she was so firm and reassuring, so real against you. You reached for the clasp to her belt with unsure hands, the unruly energy within you threatening to crystalize upon your skin in an explosion of cold. You couldn’t lose control like that tonight, not again. The only thing to do is to give control to her, that is the only way to feel safe within yourself before the sun rises. 

You ignore the layer of frost that overtakes the leather of the band around her waist when you take it off of her. She does not.

Manicured nails scratched quickly at the back of your neck, the quick rush of pain running down your body, pulsing at the center of your core once it finished its race. Your gaze refocused upon her, commanding green eyes taking you in as you maneuvered the hem of her slacks past her hips, authority holding you in place as though with a spell. Her lips glisten as she opens her mouth to speak, and you’re filled with the urge to taste whatever balm is covering them if only to feel more of her against you. 

“Don’t make me tie you up, are you really so pathetic that you can’t keep your little magic tricks under control on your own?”

The words stung beautifully as she said them, a whimper leaving your sore throat as you sank lower into her, your hands planting on either side of her onto the couch’s fabric. Beautiful constellations of crystalline water began to spread from your nails up to your elbows, all under her calculated gaze. The way she looked at you was degrading, like you were beneath her not just physically, but spiritually as well: a pathetic excuse for a soldier, a hero, a lover. 

You weren’t pathetic in your outside life, but she knew thats what you needed to be tonight.

Her pupils dilated as you nodded, warm hand trailing down your shoulder before leaving you completely, only for that warmth to be concentrated on your chin as she lifted your gaze with two fingers. 

“You want to be able to touch me, don’t you baby?”

You salivated at the notion, quickly tilting your head down to kiss her palm, lips reverent against her skin.

“I.. more than anything mistress, I want to make you feel good.”

Her gaze softened as you bowed before her. “I know.” 

She knew as the frost collected on your forearms. 

“I need.. I need to make you feel good,” your head was swimming with the scent of her skin, with the invisible smoke of the room, with your mistakes and your failings from earlier in the day and how they looked at you when-

“Stop.”

The word cut clear into the fog of your mind, like the warm sun of the spring through the melting snow of the winter.

“I know exactly what you need, and I’m going to tell you exactly how to do it. Doesn’t that sound nice baby?” She smiles as you nod, your fingers clenching onto the fabric of the slowly freezing sofa, “You’re going to do everything I tell you, and if I catch you looking at anything that isn’t me,  if I catch you thinking about anything that isn’t me, if I catch you touching anything that isn’t me, we’re going to have a problem. Do you understand?”

You glanced at your wrist, the lattice structure upon it, and felt a wave of nerves. What if you couldn’t do what she asked of you? What if you hurt her? What if you froze her, ripped her flesh with condensed water the same way you had torn through others?

You had this worry every time the two of you collided. 

“What did I say about not looking at me, hm?”

And every time, without fail, she and the rules the two of you have placed soothes your soul.

You returned to looking at her, deep breath rattling through your lungs. 

“Thaw yourself out, I only want you that cold when you’re inside of me.”

Her word was law, and so as though you were mandated by heaven above, the ice imbedded in your skin disappeared into you, and your hands returned to the hem of her pants in order to fully remove them from her.

“Good girl”

She lifted her hips, leading to the inevitable exposure of her smooth, creamy skin to the warm air and your ravenous gaze. She glowed under the candle-light, your muscles tensed like a live wire as you waited for your next order, hands flexing open and closed as you stared at the treasure that rested between her thighs. She was so devilishly, tortuously kind to you. The strings of her thong rose up her hip bones like perfectly traceable lines, a beautifully intricate scrap of fabric was all that laid between you and well-kept perfection. You waited for her order, a dog with a treat tantalizingly placed in front of its drooling, fanged maw. She wasn’t soaked, not yet, but you watched and waited as your little game, your little play at self control, made her wetter over time. 

“Stand up, slowly. Let me look at you.”

She could see the bruises, the frozen-over cuts that were patched and stitched together earlier that day, she could see the tiredness in your bones, the wear and tear in your muscles, the devotion to her and what the two of you are together in your eyes, the tense edge to your jaw because she wouldn’t let you have her yet: she could see you. All of you. 

“I want you to pick me up, and then I want you to undress me, and if you want your reward you’ll thank me after. Understand?”

“Yes mistress, whatever you want.” 

Your hands ached to feel her

“Anything?”

There was a poorly veiled taunt in her words, meant to bait you. You took it happily.

“Anything… whatever you want, nothing feels as good as serving you, nothing feels as good as being yours does. I want to make you feel that good.”

Natasha didn’t have enough words in the English nor the Russian vocabulary to tell you in that moment how much you truly meant to her, didn't have a way to make you understand how her heart soared at your admission. She hoped that her care, that her actions would convey it for her tonight.

“Baby.. you know better than to tempt me, don’t you? Get to work.”

You sprung into action, scooping her into your arms, her front to yours as her legs wrapped around your waist, keeping her stable as you walked the two of you to the nearest wall. Your forehead rests against hers, breath condensing in the air as you hold her steady, one hand clutching her hip as the other rested flat on her stomach. You could feel the string of her thong against your palm, your thigh finding its home between her thighs as she unwrapped her legs from your back. She was so warm, so alive, so beautiful against you, you found yourself whispering so as you dragged your hand up from where it rested above her heat up towards her chest. Her shirt lifted along with your arm, her breath hitching as you tugged the article of clothing upward, envigored by the mere glimpse of lace beneath. You think your heart stopped for a minute, your hands spontaneously lowering their temperature as you reached her chest. God… everything about her was perfect, the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed tantalizingly close to your waiting mouth, the way her nipples hardened under the chill of your hand and the friction of the lace, the slight grind of herself against your thigh. Yet another whimpering breath tore itself from your throat, your concentration flickering from her mouth to her chest and back again. A hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you in, soft lips meeting yours in the same way the water meets your skin in a shower, warm and rushing, comforting in its raw embrace. 

Cherries, she tasted like cherries and roses, her tongue coaxed your mouth open as you put a hand under the cup of her bra, gasping your next breath into herself as you pinched her nipple and tugged lightly. She pulled away before you did, your lips greedily trying to follow hers during their exit

“Rip it off, you don’t have to hold back with me love..”

You shuddered, dipping your head to her collarbone, tongue trailing frost up to her ear as you licked up the column of her throat to the shell of her ear, earning yourself a flash of delicious, earned pain as her nails raked down your back in response. The noise that came from you was broken, her eyes glowing in the candlelight yet again, holding you almost like she was pinning you down instead of the other way around. 

Your hands reached around her to unclasp her bra, but the pain came again, sharp breath leaving your nose, steaming out around the two of you as the widow leaned in again. “I didn’t tell you to take it off nicely, I told you to rip it off of me. Do you not remember how to listen anymore?” “I’m sorry.. Its just… its so pretty on you, it feels… expensive.”

She laughed softly, the worry in your eyes too genuine to be an act for the scene as she took your hand into hers and brought it to the front of the lace that stood between you and her bust. “It is expensive, baby… that's why I want you to break it for me. Be a good girl for your mistress and tear it apart so I can get a new one.” “Can.. Can I rip the new one too?”

She smirked as you pulled your arm back, the enrapturing silk tearing into ribbons, frozen solid once your gaze landed on her, bound to shatter as the once-together fabric fell upon the ground.

“You can rip as many as you want love, I’ll find a way to put everything back together when you’re done.”

You know she truly does mean everything as your nose is pushed into her chest, a soft moan leaving the both of you as your cooled tongue and hands roam. Nimble fingers snap the string of her thong soon after, leaving her bare against the wall, vulnerable to your machinations yet completely in control of your imminent futures. 

Rough yet practiced hands aided the red-head in grinding her hips down, her momentum fluid, steady, your hands placed more to keep you stable than her. A pale hand cups the back of your head, pulling you back down into her, into her scent, into her sweat, into her heat, into her essence. Her skin pinkened under your frigidity, a tantalizing shiver ran up Natasha’s spine, your fingers retracing that path of her heightened nerves. It was like the edge of a knife running across her synapses, sharp and strangely burning as it cut through practically everything else that she felt. A low gasp brought you back to your senses, the lack of fabric rubbing against your clothing reminding you of your end of the sacred deal you had made earlier in the night, forcing you into clarity that warmed your hands to a more tolerable level.

Tugging her gently, you lead Natasha from the wall to her bed, freezing sensitivity easing ever so slightly as you took her step by step from the wall to her mattress. You had undressed your goddess, and now it was time to pay tribute to her grace. 

“Thank you, Mistress-” the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, you crawled slowly on top of her, the fabric of your pants brushing across her body while lowering her into a laying form. With two arms you held yourself above her body, you placed a kiss on her shoulder as you lowered yourself down her torso, lips chilled as they trail to her collar, the hollow of her throat, down to her nipples. You looked up at her through your lashes as you swirled your tongue slowly around one of the peaks, sucking it into the warmth of your mouth before breathing cold onto the sensitive flesh as you take it between your teeth. “Thank you for the opportunity to see you like this, to touch you like this, to be used like this, only by you.” Your praise was sung to you by the curve of her arched back, by the litany of soft, choked gasps and small moans. You felt high on her, lowering a hand to graze the delicate skin of her inner thigh up into her apex as you dragged sharp teeth down to her navel. Her hand cupped the back of you head as you traveled along the carved path of her body, two fingers running slowly from her slit upward, feeling her wetness and the quick convulsion your action produced. 

“God you’re so desperate you can’t even wait for my permission to touch me fully? You were doing so good baby, what happened to wanting your reward?”

Your heart dropped at her dulcet tone, the green-eyed woman slowly rising onto her elbows, the incriminating evidence of your fingers as bright as the sun in the low lighting of the room.

“I-”

She silenced you quickly, maybe she wasn’t as entranced as she seemed to be initially by her touch. And yet, if you had been paying attention you would’ve seen the quiver of her thigh, the shake of her wrist as she reached for yours, pulling your hand in front of her, the way her pupils were dilated as she licked your fingers clean of her taste.

You sat, dazed yet back in that electrified state as she sat herself up, pushing you roughly onto the bed you briefly held her to, sauntering over to the remains of her thong and taking them into her hand. As you sat and watched her, she took your jaw back into her hand, her thumb placed onto your tongue to pry open your mouth fully, replacing her hand with the purest taste of her laid on fabric in order to prevent you from speaking. She straddled your hips, arms wrapping around your shoulders as your hands found her waist, the two of you panting in tandem as the haze of each other consumes you both.

Maybe she wasn’t entranced, or maybe she just knew what you needed. To be used, to be good, to be whole. 

You tried to talk, to plead your case, but any attempt at salvation was met with sharp, remedying pain as she forced you to look at her.

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this, love. Honestly its better for me if you don’t get to talk at all.. It means I get to hear more of those cute little sounds of yours… Don’t give me that look, you did this to yourself. You know better than to take more than you’re given, don't you? I thought I trained you better than that…” 

You squirmed slightly under her weight, her body pressing directly into your sensitive, covered, core. “I’m going to give you a choice, since you wanted to disobey. Does that sound fun baby?” Despite yourself, despite your better judgement, you nodded in agreement to her idea,

 ‘Anything to see her happy,’ you thought, ‘Anything to get to touch her again’.

“You or me.” 

Her tone was flat, simple, laid out as though she was having you choose what ice cream flavor you preferred to eat.

“Either you choose yourself, and don’t get to touch me for the next week, or you choose me, and I don’t let you touch yourself for the next week. This would include any chance of me touching you as well. ” 

Her smile was calm yet cruel, her eyes showing the full extent of her gleeful infliction of misery upon you.

“That’s a fair price to pay for your ignorance I think, how about you?”

The tightening of your grip was harsh and quick, corrected rapidly by a burning glare and the removal of her underwear from your mouth. “Choose quickly baby, or you’ll get neither one.”

She knew from the moment she proposed the two options to you which one you would take, especially considering the outcome of your mission, the outcome that she was soothing you from, but she had secretly hoped she was wrong, that you’d be selfish.

“You, I choose you- I… I can’t..”

“I know, baby, I just thought I would offer you the opportunity.” Her arms wrapped around your back as she pulled you close, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek, her eyes meeting yours after pulling away to find a hopeful, yet broken, determination.

“Touch me, my body is yours to touch, yours to feel, yours to fuck, and it’ll be yours to hold when we’re done. Give me what you need, that’s how I’ll get what I want. Get back to work, love.” 

Such a gracious opportunity was not yours to squander, replicating your position from before, you found yourself on top of her yet again, this time with full permission to act in whatever manner pleased your mistress, pleased Natasha, your Tash, the most. Slowly you eased a finger into her, lowering the temperature of your hands ever so slightly to heighten the sensation of your motions, slowly, surely beginning the final care of your lover. She gasped with indignation at the sudden change, a playful glare cutting you down to size, your shoulders tensing as you felt lithe fingers trace your side. 

“I sincerely hope you didn’t take what I said about being frozen inside of me earlier seriously, for my sake.”

It shocked you into a quick spurt of laughter, the finality and resolution of punishment hanging over you lightening into a different kind of emotional release at her playful quip.

“No ma’am.. I have.. I have more control than that.” “Very cute, but you gave that all over to me for tonight. Remind me what I told you earlier about thinking about anything other than me?”

Your arms bent, the weight of your hips sinking into hers as her fingers ran across the hills and valleys of your ribcage.

“Not to.”

You didn’t want to think of anything outside of her.

You wanted, you needed, all you could do was give in to the woman who controlled you from below. As your mouth explored her body, your hands were tasked personally with maintaining your rhythm, the strong, steady beat that drew such lovely noises from Natasha’s throat, even more prevalent when you added a second finger. Your muscles burned with the effort of pumping your fingers into Natasha, pressure and speed practiced, honed specifically to bring your assassin to the edge as she arched into you completely, your hips grinding into the mattress as your arm wrapped around her back, pulling her more upright and shifting her towards your lap, her legs wrapped around you once more as you used your hips to aid your momentum. Sharp teeth sunk into sugar spun flesh with bruising, marking force, force that Natasha brunted proudly, with honor as you brought her higher and higher. No one else could do this, could be this, could make her feel what she feels in this very moment as your breath steams around her neck, as the heel of your palm rubs against her clit with every thrust, as she felt herself drip down your wrist and onto the once pristine sheets. No one could make her a mess like you, no one else would ever get the pleasure of it if she had her way on it. 

Many women described their lovers as lines of fire as they worked their proverbial magic upon them. Natasha couldn’t help but scoff at that idea after meeting and being with you, fire had nothing to do with the heat you caused, she knew that intimately as the pressure placed on her clit increased due to the shift of her weight in your lap. She knew she would always prefer your slightly chilled embrace as you slid her back onto the mattress, the halo of her hair mussing itself on the satin of her sheets. 

The chill of your breath ran down her body as you stilled your fingers for a moment, mouthing at her hip bones to leave purplish-red blooms upon them to be hidden later. Your mouth lowered further yet, hovering over her center as it glistened, the most tempting jewel inside of a dragon's hoard, the most desired dish at the king's banquet. 

“You don’t know how lucky I am to get to be the one who does this to you, to taste you like this.”

Your tongue flattened against her clit and dragged upward, warm middle transitioning to a cold tip circling the sensitive collection of nerves. Your fingers moved inside of her as your tongue did, laving over her only to occasionally suck her clit into your mouth to deepen the focus upon her. Writhing muscle transitioned from hot to cold with prodigal timing, with the exact level of control and practice demanded and worked into you by your lover.

The stimulation was growing to be too much in the most wonderful manner, her hands reaching out without her mental input to pull you into a searing kiss, sloppily breathing and moaning into your mouth as she tore into you with her hands. Picking apart every little thing that you ever were and ever will be, taking all into herself and putting you back together piece by piece through memory and admiration alone. As you gave, she took, she took your desolation, she took your need, she took your love, and she took you. Your fingers curved perfectly inside of her, she was seeing stars and you were so lost in the way she sounded, the way she tensed, the way she pulled you closer even as all of you burned with fatigue, that she knew you couldn't tell. 

Her body quaked, her nerves exploded with fire as you held each other close, time stopped, such an abstract concept didn’t matter when it was so totally eclipsed by the pleasure you had brought her. With tense and shaking thighs she trapped your body into place, breathing into you as you poured your all. She couldn’t trust herself not to move as her hips bucked and twitched against you, against her better judgement, against the composed demeanor she so professionally maintained. It felt like she had been struck by lighting, the ice and bone of your body lighting her hotter than any material, and star known to man or any creature beyond, trapping her soul in this moment shared between the two of you. Release was something Natasha always craved in some manner, whether it be from her past, from her expectations of herself, or whether it be the kind only you could give her. Your working presence shocked her into glorious tension, energy sinking deep from her flesh into her bone marrow, it felt like if you kept going she would explode,

In a way she did, when she finished, locking you into a cutting vice as she choked out what little noises she could still make while you carefully removed your hand from her and settled her into your side. Her suddenly tightened muscles relaxed as she pulled your head into her neck, loosening her grip, loosening her smile, melting into both you and the sheets as she relaxed post orgasm. Slow, calming breaths and your steadfast presence eased her through the aftershocks, the light of her candles bathed her sweat-covered body in a golden glow. She looked beautiful as you slowly rose to look at her, more so than any flower, than any painting, than any sunset, than any individual snowflake. You had made the right choice in the end… What a blessing it was to touch someone as divine as she.

As you found your footing, you took a minute to breathe and watch Natasha stretch out on the sheets you had just ruined together. You’d replace them when you felt more lucid, for now you were single minded in your purpose. With steady feet and blank mind you roamed the empty halls of the compound, the familiar path leading you to the kitchen in order to make a small sandwich for the assassin, the familiar comfort of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich a guilty pleasure of hers. With a sandwich and cup of water in tow, you tread your way back into the warm vanilla scented room, looking at the bed to find it empty. The twist of your heart was dampened by the sound of pooling water in Natasha’s bathroom, and the smell of some minty, eucalyptus mixed bath salt emanating from the door. Placing the food items onto her nightstand, you walked into the bathroom, vision met with the gymnastic form of your beloved perched upon her bathroom counter. 

“Hey there frosty, wanna get out of those clothes for me?”

Your clothes… you had come to her straight from debrief. You barely had changed, the under-clothing of your usual uniform still mentally chained onto your body, a chain that could only be broken by the salvation the red-headed woman could provide. 

“I might need help with that, if a certain someone were to offer it.” She chuckled lowly as she slid off of the counter, naked form pulling you into her as she slowly raised your shirt above your head. Your skin had new marks, but the same softness to it as she felt your shoulderblades, pointing her hands down to run them across the length of your back to reach your pants, sliding them off of your hips so you can kick them down. A gentle kiss was given to you, calmer, slower than before as you removed your underwear, her hands resting on the small of your back as you held each other.

“Get in the bath with me?” Natasha’s voice was gentle, hopeful, all encompassing with her offers.

“I’ll try not to make it too cold.” 

Hot water engulfed your calves as the two of you stepped in, Natasha sinking first so that you could lay your back down onto her chest. Massaging your shoulders and traps, she felt your resistances lower, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as the hot water and steam surrounded and filled you both.

“You won’t… I know you have more control than that.”

[mutantdiaries]

Kurt took the Photo

[laserwalnut]

Strong as fuck ice piggy

[violetsandmoss]

GYM DAY

You(human!f) head to the gym to start getting you know able to run more than five blocks without perishing. You think you won't last a month. Until you meet Sage- the easy going werewolf gym employee. She pulls you in and you incite her interests.

NSFW MINORS DNI

Contents: sapphic sex. Thigh riding. Shameless flirting. Princess treatment. Tooth rotting nicknames. Destruction of security camera ( whoops) Dubious werewolf activities in the locker room: face riding and edging.

Part 2 and more from your gym werewolf girlie available on request. Hmu!

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

New year? New stronger you!

Yes you were going to get a gym membership and start working out!!! It was an exciting idea at first. Cute water bottle? Even cuter stickers on it? Check and check!

Immediately dread weighed down your feet, slowing your formerly enthusiastic gait to a crawl. It was hard working out in gyms frequented by monsters. Who wouldnt be when there were creatures lifting the weight of small cars without breaking a sweat. Meanwhile you struggle to hold 50lbs.

But you hauled open the door and signed up. The first day was intimidating but you promised yourself one month and then youd let yourself consider giving up.

But you stayed far longer. There was one major motivator: Sage.

With dark blue hair and muscles you dreamed of she ran circles around your head whenever she was on shift.

Occassionally she’d get irritated enough that she’d start shifting and that- at first was scary. But then the fear turned into blatant lust. The moment the claws elongated you were wet.

The time she chased down the person who stole your water bottle? Trotting back from the parking lot without breaking a sweat? Claws out. Fangs visible.

Your heart racing. You take it back with a gaping jaw.

“If that happens again ill shred her face off, princess.” In a show of comradery, Sage pats your back and your mind promptly ceases to function. She smelled even better up close. Dear god save you.

Youre fairly certain you blabbered out a long thank you.

What you were certain of is the lingering stares through the machines you share with her over the next couple of weeks.

The way she sidles by and asks you if you need a spotter or if you were familiar with the

machine.

“Not as familiar as I want to be.” You grouse pausing a work out to chat. Leaning on the

treadmill guard rail catching your breath. “I keep falling off.”

Sage joins you leaning on the rail, her forearms swell and her biceps ripple. Your heart pounds watching her lips quirk to a wry grin. “Why don't we work on getting more familiar?” She smoothly proposes. “And don't worry about falling off. I’ll catch you.” She winks and your heart races. Your palms sweat. She's breaking your resolve every second.

“Yeah, yeah I would like that.” Looking down at both your shoes you take a deep breath. “Uh, Sage right?”

“You remembered? Impressive, I hate the name tags. Bit like a dog collar if you ask me.” She remarks leaning in closer, a lopsided smile growing. “Though, I'm not against collars.” Her tone drops off as she murmurs, “for the right person.”

Unable to stop yourself, you giggle. “The right person huh? I wonder how someone qualifies for that?” Looking back up at her you're struck by how beautiful her smile is. How easy going and placid. How safe she is for a werewolf. Then again maybe you had some preconceived ideas of werewolves to uncover….

She shrugs. “Ehh tons of ways to apply for that job. And you're in luck,” she taps your arm with her tattooed finger. “The position is currently open.” Slowly she was leaning closer to you, her tone dropping to a whisper.

You’re gravitating towards her too. Completely enamoured with her gold eyes and freckled cheeks. God she was so beautiful.

“Know anyone interested, you send them my way princess.” She hums, her fingers sliding up your arm to fiddle with the strap of your top. “I assure you the interview is quite enjoy-”

Before she can finish. Before you can finally kiss her a scream interrupts your blissful moment.

Sage is gone in a blurr. The door to the locker room banging violently. All sorts of terrifying snarls and squeals erupt from the changing area.

Stomach twisting you join the gathering crowd. “Is sage okay?”

“Oh yeah, the other guy? Probably not so much.” The harpy at the desk sighs, her hand still rubbing a sobbing patron's shoulder. “Stalker went into the changing room looking for a fix. Sage has it under control.”

You take over comforting the patron until Sage emerges hauling a bloody vampire in her wake.

His face was slashed and beaten.

“You.” Piercing yellow eyes land on you and for once you feel afraid. Sage’s lips coat in blood as she gives her staining fingers a long lick. “Stay after hours. I need to fill out paperwork.”

Brushing by your frozen body on her way back to the office you hear a feral snarl. “I Hate

incident reports.”

So you wait. You wait until the patrons room mate came to get them. You wait until the harpy leaves giving you a saucy wink that leaves you stammering. “It's not what you think!!” “Oh it SO is!” She cackles, closing the door behind her, locking it from the outside.

Oh god.

You were locked inside the gym with the sexy werewolf…

Flustered, you go to the changing rooms to grab your wash cloth for the showers. Wetting it down you turn the corner and find Sage already emerging from the office.

“Sage! Towel.” You offer meeting her halfway. Gingerly dabbing off the blood on her hands.

“Awww, thank you princess paperwork.” She jokes watching you with keen interest as you wipe the dried blood from beneath her reverted nails. “You are the paperwork, aren't you?”

Laughing, you shake your head. “ Shut up and let me see your face.”

“What? Cant get enough of my pretty face?” She teases bending, laughing as you man handle her cheeks. Scrubbing to get the blood off.

“You’re so messy!!” Scolding her hadnt been your idea of flirting. But already you’re swooning as her nose twists. You cant have her just standing around bloody like a feral dog.

Pouting down at you her lip pokes out. “But princess, that's your job. I get all messy and you clean me up.” She giggles low and nefarious, brows rising“ if you're applying for it.”

Looking at the cloth in your hands, another shy giggle escapes. “You know,” lower lip tugging into your mouth you rock up onto your tip toes to get closer to her. Hand bracing on her shoulder. “I am formally applying. Can you put in a good word for me?”

Sage’s lips thin and a dry laugh escapes. Gazing down through her thick lashes, she bites her lip. Her fang visible once more. And once more your body responds with a surge of adrenaline.

But you were exhausted and sweaty and already far too sore. Instead you swallow a tonic of arousal and fear.

“Consider yourself hired, princess.” Tracing down your neck and then down skimming the scoop of your gym top. Lewdly checking out your breasts without a hint of embarrassment. “You're a pathetically sweet little lamb, i love it.” Sage murmurs. Her finger runs a scorching trail along the top of your breasts.

Unable to stop it, you snort. “Predator and prey. Really?” Tilting your head studying her expression, she was difficult to read. Her unbothered confidence hid that unhinged ferality you had witnessed earlier. Her claws had shredded that man’s face with ease.

And it only made you wetter.

“Reality from where I am.” When she shrugs with that disarming lazy smile her shoulders ripple in absolutely illegal ways.

Oh that is unfair. Just cruel. Your eyes catch, fully ensnared in the trap her body set. With every inch of body your eyes travel you become more and more aware of the growing wetness between your legs. Of the need to press your thighs together. “From where you are i want to-” but the words die on your tongue. You almost admitted it. You almost admitted to wanting to taste her.

Fuck! Hand over your mouth you try and steady yourself.

“Want to what? Dont leave me hanging, sweetie.” Sage’s voice dropping huskily, bracing against the wall beside your head. “Want to?” Her sharp claws drum against the tile wall.

Clack.

Clack

Clack

Squeezing your eyes shut your head shakes again and again. “No, no i can't. It's not right.” Stammering you try and focus on the beating of your heart over the drumming of her nails.

But Sage’s breath is against your ear now. The smell of her body and shampoo fills your nose.

The mouth watering fragrance she wore.…

“Why?” The low growl makes you want to whimper but you swallow it. “Youre at work!”

“Mmmm gyms closed little lamb.” Her hair brushes against you setting your skin on fire. Reminding you oh so generously of that fact you were trying to forget: “it's just you and me.”

It was. Lights off and dead as a grave. Except for Sage.

“C-c-c-cameras!” You add, trying to keep your sanity with her body heat tingling your skin. Her breath fanning against your face.

She laughs, loud and sinister against your ear. Only to drop her lips to tease the sensitive skin of your neck. “A good thing for us to watch later.” Her smirk presses against your skin. “Dont you think? Would it be fun? Watching it together.”

Your body shakes. “Oh, that could be hot.” Thinking of all the things she could do while you were in her grasp. That you could do to her. Reaching out you instinctively grab onto her large bicep, a much needed anchor.

“Right? Watch it while you sit on my lap.” Her lips place open sloppy kisses against your throat, humming each time. “My fingers inside you while i suck on your cute tits.”

Unable to stop the moan your hips needily shift. The mere fantasy of Sage had plagued you for weeks and now she was talking about this?!

All you could think of was her breasts pressing against your back. Your legs pulled apart with her fingers buried in your pussy. Shed probably growl a lot wouldn't she??

Your mind short circuits.

You meant to say something. Anything. And you do. But it isnt what you expect.

No, instead the word “please” wrings out like the pathetic little thing she had said you were. Your hands clasp over your face. She was right, you WERE pathetic.

But only for her….

“Please? Then tell me what you want, right now?” Sage prompts her fingertips to glaze along your exposed side. “You want to be my little chew toy, princess?” She inquires lustily devouring you with another look up and down your body.

“I want to kiss you!” You blurt out, still hidden behind your fingers. Fingers which she easily pries away from your face.

One by one she uncovers you. A cocky satisfied smile on her face. “Is that so?” Leaning in Sage’s grin grows, “are you hungry, princess?” Her powerful fingers latch onto your jaw, preventing you from escaping. “You want a taste of my lips?” Leaning down her nose rubs against your cheek. Taking a steady whiff of your scent. Her body pressing against yours, “I can give you an appetizer. Hmm?”

Nodding you lean up. She meets you halfway with a hungry growl resonating through her throat.

Her lips caress your’s in hungry pulls. Open mouth sampling and nudging you along.

Your arms wrap around her neck as her hands slide down to rest on your hips. Her tongue playfully runs along your lips. Eagerly you lick along hers, tasting her chapstick. Moaning against her lips you welcome her into your mouth where your tongues slowly ebb and flow against one another.

Her jaw works you low and slow. Hungry and deep. Your breathing hitches against her and you break the depth to shallow short kisses. Only until you caught your breath. Then it's back-

Back into the deep end with her thigh pressing between your leg. Teasing you by pressing up until your moan breaks the kiss. Your hands falling to her shoulders with a fragile whimper. Her muscular thigh placed perfectly. “Sage,” you exhale, eyes searching her face for any hints of her next move.

Pulling back with a final nip to your lower lip, she smirks. Sage’s fingers are still firmly clutching your chin. The intensity of her attention seers you. It incites you. “You're so soft and naive.” She drawls, eyes still clinging to your lips like an abandoned lover. Wanting nothing more than another round. “ Do you not realize how dangerous I am?”

Eyes rolling at the cliche talk your hands drop to her waist. “Sage? Shut up.” Grasping her ass you give her firmness a squeeze. Watching with growing confidence how her eyes flutter closed and she takes a steadying breath.

“God I love bratty princesses.” She groaned, pressing her thigh up against you to watch you squirm. “You’re so fucking cute what if i break you on accident?”

Your brow arches.

“Not the sexy break, princess. The hospital break.” She clarifies. Too bad you're ignoring her.

Leaning up you nuzzle against her neck. “C’mon, Sage, devour me. I'm your paperwork right? You have to do me properly.”

Sage laughs, boxing you in with her arms. Ducking down she tastes your lips again. But this time with such intensity you had no choice but to fall limp and let her have full control. Her tongue was surprisingly long and it took a moment to realize how much better that made the kiss. How much louder you moan as she works your mouth again and again.

Dutifully filling out her paperwork.

Your hands cling to her. The kiss becomes messier. Strings connecting your mouths and your moans and whimpers becoming louder and deeper. She was unlocking a deeper desire. Which

Sage fully manifests when she grabs your ass, pulling you down and along her thigh.

Crying out in the kiss you begin shaking at how good she felt. How hard her thigh was against your aching clit. She moves you again and again until your hips rub on their own accord. Taking up your own frantic pace against her, your hands grabbing the straps of her sports bra. Properly humping her thigh. A broad smile on her lips as you continue trembling harder and harder.

When you cum you fall against the wall. She pursues you, still sucking on your tongue and lips.

Finally twisting your head away, you pant staring up at her. “That was so good.”

“I know,” Sage wipes your mouth clean with her thumb. “ I'm such a good girl, arent I?”

“You are.” You purr low. Sage was instigating you so well.

Your finger latches upon your top. “Let me nourish you.” Tugging down the fabric exposing your breast, a soft puff of air escapes Sage’s lips.

Your eyes meet hers. Both equally hungry as you cradle your breast towards her. “Drink.”

Her lips latch round your nipple, taking you into her mouth without a hint of teeth. Instead Sage sucked and lathed until your head was falling back against the wall. Her hand covers yours, keeping you securely in her mouth. With every sharp suck and moan your hips begin to rock.

She suckled on you with such fervor your legs began to shake. Knees weakening as pleasure built you higher and higher. As you gaze over her shoulder you finally notice the security camera.

Fuck!

Only vaguely aware of how prominently placed the security camera is. The red blinking light blurring as pleasure filled your vision.

It made you wonder what your face looked like. Was it cute?

Whenever your eyes drift down they meet her sharp yellow gaze. Staring up at you with

predatory hunger. Its in one of these moments, with your hand clutching the back of her hair that you cum.

Sage grazes a fang along your breast shaking you to the core. Straightening her back a wicked smirk graced her face. Admiring her work. Shed made you breathless and left your lips puffy from her rough kissing. Your nipples erect and aching for her to return.

“Sage.” You breathe huskily, eye fucking her just as roughly as she had sucked your tit.

Her claws sink into the rest of your shirt, with a simple tug she pops your other breast out exposing you completely.

The smirk only grew. “Oh, princess.” Sage’s tongue inches out licking her lips. “ You’re spoiling me.”

Face burning your hands rest upon her arms. “Are you-”

Before you can finish she briskly interrupts, “in heat?”

“Not what I was going to ask…” you mumble, rubbing your face bashfully. You had heard tales of how intense werewolf heat could get. It had left all sorts of imagery in your mind. Especially the week Sage missed work and you connected the dots.

It was then you had realized you wanted to be the one easing her discomfort. You wanted to be the one in between her legs. Not another werewolf. Especially not a male werewolf. A spike of possessiveness like you'd never known rises into your hand. Your hand on her arm is tightening.

“If I was, I would have taken you into the store room and had my way with you.” Sage growls low, a wicked smirk snaking across her lips.

Eyes snapping up your brow raises. Head tilting you lean in. “Oh??” PLEASE PLEASE SAGE. PLEASE. Your thighs rub together instinctively.

“Oh.” Sage mimics tilting her head, studying your entire person. “Yes. How do you feel about being tied up and used for hours?”

“Oh? Oh!!! Uhm!!” Your eyes found that red light again and she joined your gaze. “Now??” You ask nervously.

“Mmmm. Oh! Shit. I forgot about those. I will take care of that, don't worry princess. As for the rest, I want to play more.” Ducking in she presses a kiss against your temple.

Your eyes slip closed and another hands perching on her shoulders, “I would like that.”

“We are far from finished, right?” She clarifies, waiting for your response and when you nod with a bashful giggle her body relaxes.“Good.”

Playing with strands of your hair, Sage’s smile turns lazy again. Sniffing the strands in her hand deeply, memorizing your shampoo.

Your scent.

Sage glanced over her shoulder and then returned, booping your nose with every word. “Im going to go and erase the footage.” Stopping her finger falls to run along your lips. There her eyes stay and you debate on sucking onto her rough finger. But before you can she continues. “ You go to the locker room, yeah? “

You nod and Sage’s smile grows. Another sweet soft kiss lands upon your temple. “Locker room, and do us both a favor? Lose the clothes.” Her hand drops, snapping your waist band, “they're in the way.”

Departing to the changing room you check that its empty. Stripping as you go. Its only on your way back to put your clothes on the bench do you begin to feel self conscious. Running a hand along the curves of your body you bite your lip. Sage seems to really like you. So why were you anxious now? Maybe because of all the mirrors. The changing area was either a narcissist’s dream or a social anxiety nightmare.

So preoccupied you dont notice Sage until its too late. Her hands perch upon your shoulders, head resting upon her hand from behind. Gazing into the mirror at you. A wide grin on her face.

“Hey Princess.”

“Hi Sage.” You greet awkwardly, leaning to kiss her temple.

She nuzzles your hair again and again. Hands falling to grope along your hips. “Feeling good?” Sage inquires pausing to look at your face. Scanning for discomfort.

“Yes, really good. Just a bit anxious.” You explain fidgeting with your hands. “I haven't had sex in a locker room before.”

“Not many people have.” She reassures rubbing your sides in a soothing manner. “ its quite niche. It is a kink for some people though.”

Your brows shoot up and you stare meaningfully at her.

“Not exactly mine. But that bench and i do have history.” She remarked sheepishly. “Its uh, real good for when i'm in heat.”

“Oh my god. I will never see that bench the same!” You groan in dismay. Hand swatting at her.

She lets out a barking laugh. “Want me to fill your head with ideas? Or shall i treat you lile the princess you are?”

Blushing you fidget with your fingers. Toes curling against the cool tile. “Uhm princess treatment please!”

“Anything for my princess.” Sauntering passed, Sage lays back on the changing room bench. Face up, she gestures you over to her. “Sit on my face?”

“What?!” You stammer looking down at how she lay on the changing bench. Crop top exposing her abs AND her cleavage in illegal ways. Blue hair laying all sorts of ways on the wooden bench. Her arm hair alone made you sweat. But now?

Now you were imagining if she had a full bush or not. If she would shower with you afterwards so you could wash her hair and sud up her muscular thighs. Maybe even touch her cun-

“Sit on my face. Please?” She interrupts your thoughts with a fang filled smile. “C’mon. Thats right, straddle me.” Sage walks you through, her deep voice steady and smooth even helping with your shakey legs. “Now,” her hands grip your thighs steadying you above her face. Smiling reassuringly at you. Her thumbs rubbing soothingly, “just sit.”

“Like, this?” Slowly you lower yourself. Her breath grows stronger and hotter, panting against your skin. The moment you get close she takes a long deep SNIFF. Her nose is burying against your mons, a low growling moan emanating from her throat.

Inhaling your purest scent again and again. Each one has her grip traveling from your thighs to your ass and back again. Sage lets out a soft canine whine and her pupils blow wide with excitement. “Oh, princess. You spoil me.”

You feel heat growing on your face and pooling in your core. “Is it- uhm yknow- okay?” You almost think you can manage until you realize youre in full view of the mirror wall. You can see her arms swell and her gaze transfixed upon your cunt.

“ You’re perfect, sweetling.” Sage yanks you down flush against her. Nose inhaling sharply. Her pronounced nails digging into your thighs, you hold your breath. Body shaking with anxious anticipation. Until the moment finally came and her nose and lips touched you so intimately you gasped.

Her name is trembling from your lips. Hands lacing into her thick hair. Her nose enthusiastically rubbing along your clit. Her hands guide the roll of your hips, increasing your pressure and intensity with each kiss on your folds.

Then to your surprise her lips latch around your clit. Sage sucks. Your body shocks to life, voice growing louder and frailer with each passing second. “Please! Yes! Sage!!”

Alternating between humming and sucking Sage sends you on a roller coaster of pleasure.

One where every moment was captured by the changing room mirror.

Every bounce of your breasts and flex of her arms pulling you back down to her lips caused you to soar higher. Was it bad? To be hypnotized by the way your own breasts bounce and jiggle? Or was it just the sight being so new and erotic that you didn't feel ashamed. Instinctively your hands rise to rub and twist your nipples. Only making you wetter. Only making you gasp and your hips stammer against Sage’s fantastic mouth.

The way she growls and moans only fueled the idea she was actually eating you. Each scrape of her fang along your thigh sent you stammering and whimpering like a fawn.

It takes one more harsh suck and a round of humming on your clit for you to cum. Squirting all over her beautiful face. Sage moans beneath you, pressing you up to lap your pleasure from your body. Each lick has you gasping and shaking.

Then before you can move she yanks you back down. Her tongue plunging into your soaking cunt.

Crying out loudly your hands dig into her hair. Hips rubbing down as her long tongue thrusts deeper than any human tongue could. When it finds your g spot and starts rubbing?

All you can do is: ah! ah! ah! ah!

Cunt rubbing down on her as your thighs tremble and your body wavers. Her hands move to hold your hips, helping you stay upright as she rocks your world in entirely new ways.

Tears streak down your face as she edges you. Again and again she brings you to the point of cumming and then pulls back. Looking up from between your legs or placing soft kisses along your trembling folds and pulsating clit.

“Sage, please!” You whine. “Please please please?”

“Mmmmm.” She drawls out tilting her head to loook at you. “Nah! You're too cute like this!”

“Saage.” You whimper again.

“Mmm i will if you touch your clit and play with your tits.” She offers smirking against your thigh.

Reaching down your finger finds your throbbing clit and you moan instinctively your hips start rocking. Your other hand cupping and harshly squeezing your breast. Hips rocking faster with every touch to your body.

You can feel Sage watching you. Her eyes eating up every motion and every squeak that

escapes your lips.

Finally she returns to you. Pulling you back down so she can tongue fuck your pussy. Again and again her tongue finds every pleasure point inside you. Your fingers work your clit harder and harder until finally you reach your peak.

Sage licks you clean, her face dripping with your cum when she guides you to sit on her lap.

Shaking from exertion you watch her sit up, her face glistening and eyes wide with excitement.

“Sage…”

“Hey, howre you feeling?” Her lips catch yours in a soft kiss.

You moan, tasting yourself upon her tongue.

She shifts you to nestle in her lap. Arms languidly wrapping around you. Her head resting on yours.

“Good.” You finally answer. “So good.”

“Good for a second date?” Sage asks, sounding nervous for the first time.

Looking at her in the mirror you squeeze her tightly. “Second date only if i get to see your tits.”

[dchuntress]

look, the odds of even getting a canonically confirmed women-liking / sapphic alison blaire is like 0.1% these days, but i still have my thoughts & ideas on what the Hypothetical Dazzler's Girlfriend In Canon situation should perhaps look like! specifically her first girlfriend bc for the most part, i don't really care about dazzler's "endgame" as much as i care about her relationships with women :) so please just humour me real quick besties lgbeets

creating a new oc to be ali's girlfriend: this is a trend in dc comics usually, and i think it's like, the safest thing comics do? tbh, i am 50-50 on this for alison; i think there's a LOT of fun and amazing things the right writer can do with this :)

the x-women: by default, i'd be able to ship and envision dazzler with the majority of the mutant ladies, it works! most mutants know alison more or less, plenty of overlap situations, and you don't HAVE to do the extra effort to establish that relationship; chances are, she already knows them! my personal picks for this should be the outback women and the x-terminators; revisiting the outback era with a sapphic lens could be SO interesting considering the sheer plot, emotions, and angst that can be explored, and the x-terminators would be a fun and perfect opportunity to show queer alison because that mini comic is so gay already LMAO

by extension, a canon character she's already interacted with: she-hulk, the a-force, and the likes of them, as well as fellow famous women ^_^

a canon character that's... a random choice, but could still work?: idk uhhhhhhh daisy johnson???????? valkyrie???? kate bishop???? white fox????

bring back a character from dazzler's 80s series to be her girlfriend: a blast to the past AND someone she has established history with from the 80s? honestly, this is something i would genuinely love, i do find myself shipping alison with her civilian cast ladies whenever i read her 80s solo

the sister or ex-girlfriend of a canon ex-boyfriend: an addicting trope, really; the odds of marvel reviving candy southern and pairing her up with dazzler to spite & haunt warren are low but NOT zero, heh

objectively terrible ideas, girl why: spiral, mystique, selene, kimura, talon... i don't hate these women per se, but WHY fuck up dazzler's friendships by having her willingly date someone who hurt them?? alternatively, alison dating a friend's mom NVFKVKD not in a "first gen vs second gen way" but in a "why the fuck is dazzler dating A Regular Old Het-Assumed Woman WHO'S MY MOM??????? ALISON I'M OLDER THAN YOU WHY ARE YOU MY STEP-MOM NOW WTF???"

side note but actually i don't think i'd be that made if marvel went all the way and made dazzler's canon lesbianism a fucking nightmare for rogue in every single angle LMAO

poly situation?: eh, sure, put her into an established wlw relationship, if they're happy so am i

gimmicked queerness: dazzler has a secret girlfriend, but they're NEVER shown explicitly. marvel makes everybody happy because anybody can easily hc any character as this secret girlfriend and writers don't ever have to commit

gamified queerness: marvel does a reader poll where we decide who gets to be her girlfriend; all the women of earth 616 are now in a literal dating gameshow where they must qualify to be Dazzler's First Canon Girlfriend. hunger games style

crossover: dc women, lara croft, dispatch's prism, eh. very unlikely but you never Know (i am insane none of these are happening in my lifetime bro)

[maxislvt]

i would pay real money to physically own at least 5 to 10 issues of alison doing a dating show whether it be mojoverse or album promo nonsense. i think she’d have a lot of fun! anyways random alison girlfriends ideas

Emma - in my head, I think Emma finds herself at least semi seriously concerned about Alison by nature of her wanting eyes and ears on anyone that’s a big influence on how people view mutants. Alison is Emma’s like,,,most beloved soft power tool.

Ororo - Outback era but also what if the two biggest lover girls in the world started dating. i’d be sick to my stomach they’d never get off each other

Selene - We’ve already talked about it privately but it’s definitely one of those one million Insane life events that Alison thinks is totally normal and casual. (She also probably just wanted to check on Lois)

Anna Marie - Anna just there for fun, BUT i think it’d be really cute if Anna won the ridiculous dating show and they had like a cute little reconciliation date at the end.

Laura - “do nothing. win” type of situation, but also i feel like she’s casually right about Every fun fact the host asks about Alison

Jen Walters - Idk much about her but she seems like the type to commit to a bit and just have fun

[dchuntress]

dazzler in the x-terminators group chat:

[thinking1bee]

Come to Daddy One Shot

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Tags: Porn With Lots of Plot, Soft Smut, Black Widow!Natasha, Assassin!Reader, Crude Humor, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Marital Problems, Subpar French, Angst, Fluff, Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU, Graphic Injuries, Mentions of Vomiting, R Being Gay All Around, Nat Seems Like a Bitch But is Ride and Die for Her Wife, 18+ Audience

Word Count: 24.8K

Everything Taglist:@ara-a-bird @iliketozoneout @unholyhelbig @owloftheshadows

It started the way that it always did:

Slow.

So slow that at first, you didn’t notice that it was happening until it was too late. It crept like a shadow. The distance. The silence. The way that something wedged itself between you and her even though you couldn’t put a name on it. Things weren’t always like this. At one point, your wife was your best friend. She was the best part of the morning and the best way to end the day. Your day hinged on her smile, on the way she told you about her life when you shared cups of tea with her. There were moments when you truly loved her…

...and then, there were moments like these. Ones where you wanted to throttle her neck. Lovingly, of course.

Today, Natasha Romanoff was more of a roommate than a wife. She was a person that knew the more intimate parts of you and still left the bed ice cold. At some point, her words had become monosyllabic. The conversations were shallow. Where there was once intimacy, there was now a gaping space between you both that no bridge could gap. You supposed that it wasn’t all Nat’s fault. It took two to tango, and it took two to make the relationship work. You knew that, which was why you couldn’t completely put the blame on her. Life was getting in the way, like it always did. As of late, work was more demanding than usual. More time abroad meant less time with the missus. It didn’t really give you time to communicate, or to see her. There were some days where all you could do was send her a text when you were away from her for several weeks at a time. Natasha did the same whenever she went on her work trips. You could own up to that. You could admit, readily, that the distance that hooked its teeth into you like a parasite didn’t get here by accident. However, what you couldn’t understand was why every effort that you made to get closer to her was immediately blue-balled.

It was insane how most days felt like you were caressing a brick wall where a human body should be. Whistling air had more of a response than she did. Every time you greeted Nat and asked her how her day was, she would always respond with “good”. Nothing more. Nothing less. Conversations consisted of the weather and of stocks. Never in your life had you owned a stock. You could better understand calculus than learn whatever the hell a stock was. Every interaction was so… impersonal. It was like exchanging pleasantries with a neighbor and not coming home to your wife. It was years of this, of this devolution of your marriage. Of pointless talks and unsaid words. It broke down, piece by piece, until it landed you here. In marriage counseling.

You were sitting beside Nat, and she was as poised as ever. She wore a crisp, black pants suit, one that conformed to every inch of her muscular body. Not a single red hair was out of place, and she wore a mixture of black and gold makeup around her eyes to bring out the green color in her irises. She smiled easily, relaxed and within her element. You wore a blue dress shirt with two of the buttons undone to show off some of your tattoos on your upper chest. It was just as clean and pressed as Nat’s outfit, with tailored black slacks and simple shoes. This was what things were turning into. You, her, and a shrink.

“What brings you in today?” Dr. Banner asked.

That was a great question. Why were you here? It wasn’t like you cared. You’ve long since accepted this relationship for what it was: dead. You gained nothing from being here. At the same time, you wouldn’t lose anything either. The only reason why divorce wasn’t on the table was because your financial and physical life was so entwined with Nat’s, that it would be a bitch to sort out legally. You didn’t have the desire to go through that, and you knew that Natasha felt the same or she would have proposed divorce herself a long time ago.

“I don’t believe that we need to be here,” you answered.

Dr. Banner was an older man, one ravaged by a rough life or the passage of time. You couldn’t tell. Either way, he looked exhausted in more ways than one. His salt and pepper hair sat heavily in a thick mop of unruly curls on his head. You could see the slight bags beneath his eyes and behind simple glasses. His brown eyes were dull and slightly blood shot. He wore a simple white, button-down shirt, khaki-colored slacks, and shoes. His office was simple and, yet, expensive. On the walls hung multiple and various PhDs. They were all different, all of them encompassing different subjects of academics. There was one for psychology and biochemistry. You even saw one for nuclear physics, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was more of a hobby than a day job to him. With degrees like that, there was no way that Dr. Banner was listening to people bitch and moan about their marital problems.

He had three massive bookshelves, all ceiling-to-floor length, and all filled with hefty and thick textbooks. On his desk sat some knickknacks, like fidget toys for moments when he felt restless. Behind him was a coffee pot with coffee that looked like it sat in there for way too long. In the corner was a stainless-steel, smart mini fridge, one that you could easily hack if you wanted to fuck with him. Dr. Banner's microwave rested on top, just as lavish and expensive looking. On the opposite far corner was a desk dedicated to paperwork that rested neat and tidy in their folders. At least you and Nat weren’t the only fucked up couple out there. You could make out the various last names written in his handwriting, and he seemed to be a very popular therapist. Of course, before coming here, you looked him up and saw the stellar reviews that were left for his practice. Someone went as far as to call him a “miracle worker” and you wanted to scoff. If he, somehow, managed to save your relationship, then you would call him Jesus because he would have performed a literal miracle. 

He looked at you first, his eyes seeming to observe you as they shifted up and down minutely. Then, his gaze turned towards Natasha, doing the same as he assessed the situation and what exactly he was about to get himself into. Seconds passed before Dr. Banner nodded and came to a conclusion. It was like he understood what was happening, like he’s seen this a million times before. He cleared his throat and slipped his glasses off before resting them on the polished wood of his expensive desk.

“Let’s start with something easy. How long have you been married?”

“Nine years,” you answered.

“Ten.”

Natasha was still seated easily in her chair with her hands folded into her lap. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t indifferent. Natasha wasn’t enjoying herself, nor did she seem to hate the idea of being here. For once, she was hard to read, and the idea of that made something hot bristle in your chest. When she corrected you, it was with a neutral tone and a straight face.

“Nine years,” you tried again.

“Ten,” she immediately corrected.

You looked at her, and she looked at you, meeting your gaze without so much as a flinch. Without saying or doing anything, she dared you to say something else, to try and correct her even when she believed herself to be in the right. You sighed, conceding, when to you, it wasn’t even that serious. Of all the things to fight about, this was where Nat wanted to stand her ground?

“About nine to ten years,” you relented uneasily.

Dr. Banner didn’t say anything. Not immediately. He observed the dynamic between you two, his eyebrow raised inquisitively as he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them.

“And how did you meet?”

At that, Natasha smiled fondly. Her lips quirked into something shy and reserved, something you hardly saw these days, as she looked at her hands in her lap. You couldn’t help but do the same as you reminisced. The smile that graced your features was genuine and heart felt. It almost felt like yesterday, when things were easy and simple.

***Paris, France: About Nine to Ten Years Ago***

The city was an utter mess. Explosions rocked through the atmosphere. Concrete, dust, and debris belched into the sky, smothering the sunlight from view. People were running. Screams and yells filled the air as the sounds of feet stampeding down the streets rivaled against the sounds of abject terror. Paris was nothing but catastrophe and conundrum, and it was all your fault. You’d just assassinated their president, and the police force and the National Gendarmerie were storming the streets in full force, barking out orders left and right. You? You were sitting at the bar and staring at your phone, watching as your bank account updated. Over five hundred thousand dollars were deposited into it, and you sipped on your vodka as sirens filled the air. Behind the bar, the bartender looked uncomfortable. His eyes looked at everything except you and inwardly, you smiled. Good. You were just another clueless tourist. You motioned towards him to get his attention.

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” you asked, pretending to feign confusion. He blanched at your accent when you purposefully made it horrible.

In this case, the best way to blend in was to stick out. Playing the part of a foreigner trying to fit in was the best way to do just that.

“Le président vient d'être assassiné. Ils recherchent une femme seule.”

A single woman, huh? That presented a problem. It was just you, and you pocketed your phone right as a group of police officers entered the bar and searched the area. Luckily, there were more people than just you and the bartender. Others came here when they decided that not being a part of the panicked frenzy that was outside was their best bet at remaining safe. So, you had some time to come up with a plan, but not much.

If you ran now, you’d look guilty. If you let them take you in, you would be utterly fucked. Though you were dressed like a tourist, you still had most of your gear on you. That included your gun and the detonator to the series of bombs that you placed. Not smart, if you were honest, but you expected more security and a fight on the way out. The fact that the president was in there alone was either a huge mistake on their part, or a stroke of luck for you. Your extraction ride wasn’t set to show up until 24 hours from now. Unfortunately, you had nothing but time. For now, it was just you and the hope that you could keep yourself alive.

You turned to grab your drink as you considered what you were going to do, when she entered the bar. What you noticed first was her red hair. It was like a fiery halo around her head, billowing just above her shoulders as the curls bounced in the shifting breeze. What you noticed next were her eyes. They were sharp, attentive. A green like you’d never seen before. They scanned the room, taking in everything in a matter of a few seconds. Lastly, you noticed her dress. It was very out of place given the situation. Unless she was out on a date, that suddenly got cut very short because of you, wearing a cocktail dress in the middle of the day was unheard of. It was nothing frilly or flashy. It was a simple black. Nothing more. No decorations or anything that would draw the eye to it, for that matter. It had long sleeves that stretched down the length of her arms and ended just past her wrists. Its only defining characteristic was the slit that traveled from the floor up to her thigh. It left one flawless and muscular thigh on display as she stood in the entrance. An officer was shouting at her in French, his hand wrapped tightly around her arm, but she paid him no mind as she looked around the room. Finally, her eyes landed on you, and in this weird moment of synchronicity, it was like you both came to the same conclusion, like you both drew the same plan. You downed the rest of your drink, inconspicuously readjusted your gun in its holster, and stood up to approach her.

“Excusez-moi,” you said to the police officer.

He turned to look at you, his eyebrows rising in shock like he was just noticing you there for the first time. You slipped your hand seamlessly into hers, which she took, and she excused herself from him to stand by your side. It was natural, slipping into a role so effortlessly that you wondered if she’d done this before. She leaned against you and kissed your cheek while offering you a blinding smile. It actually made your heart flip in your chest.

“Elle est ma femme. Arrêtez s'il vous plaît.”

The officer snatched his hand away from her like she was on fire, his eyes shifting between you and her, like seeing two women together was so unheard of. You met his eyes evenly, inviting him to say something more as he stuttered.

“Je suis désolé,” he mumbled before turning on his heel and exiting the bar.

You hummed in amusement, watching the man retreat like a scared dog with its tail between his legs. Then, you looked at the woman, the praise sitting on the tip of your tongue for her performance, when you noticed a deep cut on her cheek. Whatever you were going to say was immediately forgotten as concern took over. You took her chin gently into your hold, angled her head back, and examined her cheek to see the extent of the damage. It looked fresh, like it happened within the last ten minutes. Blood and pus still seeped from it, the edges of her skin red, raw, and inflamed. Maybe if you’re able to treat it now, it wouldn’t scar too horribly.

Your focus was solely on her cheek, so you didn’t notice the way her breath hitched. You didn’t see her nibble on her bottom lip, nor did you see the way her eyes widened as your fingers turned her head gently from side to side. She swallowed thickly, her nostrils flaring as she watched your eyes assess the injury.

With a gentle caress to her cheek, in the space that wasn’t injured, you stepped away from her briefly to talk to the bartender about housing accommodations. He informed you that the bar also doubled as a hotel, and since you were already here, you requested a room for the night. Unfortunately, he told you that his establishment was full, that the mass panic from today’s assassination pushed everyone to find shelter while the country reeled. You insisted that you’d pay for a room, any room for that matter, and you’d pay it with cash. To show him that you meant business, you pulled out a neat clip of folded euros and showed it to him. That seemed to pique his interest, his pupils expanding as he fished for a key. You paid the man generously, took the key, and returned to the woman who hadn’t so much as shifted from her spot.

It was odd how things turned out. You went from not having a place to stay, to now having a bed to sleep in with a woman by your side. Not that you were planning anything. You’d give her the bed, and you could sleep on the ground for all you cared. At least you had a roof over your head.

You expected the woman to drop the pretense since no one was looking now, but she still took your hand and followed you up the three flights of stairs that it took to find your room. By that time, police swarmed the building, going from door to door and demanding to see the occupants inside. You kept your eyes forward while this beautiful stranger followed you. Once you found the room, you unlocked it, ushered her inside, and made a show of closing the door slowly. You wanted those police officers to see that you weren’t alone, and that there was no need to knock on this door again. Once you closed the door and locked it, you leaned against it and listened to everything going on outside. Muffled voices. Barked orders. The sounds of feet shuffling to comply. Paris really was the dream city. The woman did the same, joining you against the door with her ear pressed against it. She met your gaze, and you gave her a crooked smile, one that she returned eagerly.

“Natasha.”

You took her hand and shook it gently.

“Y/n.”

Again, your gaze dropped to the cut and the drying blood around it.

“Let’s do something about that.”

You stepped away and made your way to the bathroom, taking in all the exit routes in case things went south. The room was bigger than you expected, but it still only had one bed. As far as hotel rooms went, this one was pretty basic. Some furniture. A television. A bathroom. A complimentary coffee pot that housed prepackaged instant coffee. It had the necessities. And to your delight, it also had a small med kit. You grabbed it and took it back to the bed where Natasha was already sitting. You went back to the bathroom to wash your hands thoroughly, and when you returned, you saw Natasha thumbing through the supplies. You put on the gloves provided by the kit before nudging her hands away with your arm. She looked at you, her expression light.

“You don’t have to do that. I can manage.”

You just shrugged. “Maybe, but I want to, unless this will make you uncomfortable.”

That made her pause, an expression you couldn’t quite decipher taking over her features. It was like…it surprised her to see you so considerate of her comfort. She realized that you hadn’t touched her or done anything to her that was outright aggressive or sleazy. Natasha knew what she looked like and knew that some people couldn’t help themselves. All it took was one flirty look before the lines of consent were blurred horribly. You sat just a little further away from her to not crowd her, and when you did touch her, it was with a gentleness that she could refuse at any moment. You weren’t forcing yourself on her, even with you trying to help. All that Natasha knew was your name, and yet, she knew that if she told you to stop, you simply would. No questions asked. She raised a perfect and flawless eyebrow before she nodded.

“Alright.”

You nodded, immediately focusing on the task at hand. You opened a few alcohol wipes, some swabs, an ointment, and bandages.

“Look towards the wall and tilt your head to the side,” you said, your voice gentle. Nat hummed, a small smile playing on her lips as she adjusted herself.

The moment that she was in position, you got to work. Under the light of the room, you could see it much better. It wasn’t a cut, but a graze. The edges of her skin were cauterized while blood wept from the heart of it. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you grabbed an alcohol wipe.

“Did a bullet graze you?”

Nat’s smile turned into a full-blown smirk, one that had quite the effect on you. “You’re good.”

You took the wipe and began to clean the outside of it, doing your best to not agitate the wound in the process. Natasha didn’t wince. She didn’t make a sound of pain, but her breath hitched, the sound sharp and full of everything that she was trying to hold back.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

Nat shrugged minutely, making sure not to move too much.

“You’re taking this remarkably well for someone who was shot.”

“Shot?” she echoed. “Hardly. They couldn’t even hit me properly.”

That made you chuckle as you continued cleaning. You removed as much dried blood and dirt as you could before cleaning the wound itself, using gentle touches and muted movements.

“You’re still lucky,” you added, and she looked at you without moving her head too much.

“You’re not French.”

“Neither are you.”

That made her smile again. You grabbed a bandage and prepped it before softly applying some antibacterial ointment.

“This next part is going to suck,” you warned.

Natasha sucked in a bracing breath right as she felt your fingers pinch her wound together. That one made her visibly blanch, the color draining from her face even though she was stone still. You apologized again and moved quickly, keeping the skin pinched while gently applying the bandage. When it was in place, you released her immediately and created some distance between you and her. Nat released the breath she inhaled moments ago, her hand coming up to gingerly touch the bandage.

“Thank you,” she murmured genuinely as she met your eyes.

“I don’t know if I got to it before it scars, especially since pieces of it were cauterized, but it’s better than getting an infection.”

Nat smirked again, agreeing of course, but not saying anything as she watched you take off the gloves and toss them into the trash.

+++

One thing that you will give the people of France was their resilience. That even with what was currently happening, they still managed to make the best of a situation. Paris was on lockdown. The people were under a curfew. The streets were full of government soldiers while the federal building you blew up several hours before was still in flames. The screams had long since quieted. The only noises that marred the night were the sounds of sirens and the loudspeaker repeating the curfew at regular intervals. You single-handedly managed to flip this city upside down, and yet, on the building where you and Nat were staying, there was a party. Well, to call it a party was generous. It was more of a get-together. A gathering of a handful of people who weren’t afraid, and others pretending not to be. It was a moment when people could forget what was happening, could forget that the city came to a screeching halt in that matter of a few hours. You and Nat decided to join, not having anything better to do, and you were glad that you did. In your hand was an expensive bottle of wine that you were nurturing. Natasha had a shot glass and some vodka. There was a bonfire, music, drinking, and dancing. People talked, danced, and you were sure that there was a couple doing more than that in the corner, if the breathy moaning that you heard was anything to go by.

You watched it all, admiring the resilience of it all as you took another sip of the wine. It was a red one, luxurious, one that was handed to you by a kind stranger who had no idea what it was worth. Another stroke of luck for you. Nat sat by your side, content with watching the people like you were. You watched her as she prepared another shot. Sure fingers steadied the bottle as she poured. In the humid air, a drop of condensation ran down the glass and over fulgent skin. As she raised it to her lips, Nat paused. It was like she knew that she was being watched because she turned to look at you immediately. You didn’t look away, beyond indifferent of the fact that Nat caught you staring. She raised an eyebrow in intrigue, watching as you smiled at her and raised your bottle a little.

“To surviving the night,” you said, the offered toast sitting between you and her.

“до дна,” she added as she also raised her glass and clinked it against your bottle.

You raised your eyebrow but didn’t comment on her words, opting to just accept it for what it was as you took a generous swig of wine. You were buzzed, not aiming to get shit-faced, but more than happy to be in the clutches of inebriation. Natasha swallowed her shot before she set down the glass and looked at you.

“She speaks,” she began as she stood up in front of you and offered her hand to you. “But can she dance?”

You chuckled, looking away from her as a blush filled your cheeks. The music was still playing. The fire was still burning, adding to the heat of the summer night as smoke still wafted into the night sky. Soft voices and conversations surrounded you. People were dancing, but to call yourself a dancer would be a complete lie. You were a trained assassin, but even you could admit that you had two left feet. You tilted your head to the side as you looked at her, your smile wide and genuine. Even under the glow of the fire, Natasha was ethereal and breathtaking. A perfect smile. Green eyes that glowed with mirth. Features that were as soft as the night. Everything about her radiated beauty.

“You know, you’re literally too good to be true,” you said to her instead.

“And you’re drunk,” she retorted as her smile widened.

You shrugged as you swirled the wine, the liquid sloshing against the sides of the bottle. “Drunk mind, sober thoughts.”

It was Natasha’s turn to blush. Her hand was still extended, the offer still there, but when you didn’t move, she took the initiative for you. She took your hand and eased you onto your feet, where you swayed minutely under the effects of the alcohol. Then, she escorted you to the impromptu dance floor. From there, she wrapped her arms around her neck while you respectfully placed your hands on her hips.

She scoffed and it took you by surprise. You were just about to ask her if you’d overstepped, when Natasha grabbed your hands and moved them up to her waist, just below the swell of her chest.

“I’m not a nun, детка. Hold me like you mean it.”

Her eyes flashed, the salacious look within them making the forest green ripple as she met your gaze. The moment that she said it, it was the exact moment you adjusted your grip again. Your thumbs shifted so that they were rested just against her lower ribs. It was a daring move, one that Natasha seemed to enjoy when she moved impossibly closer to you. You felt her arms wrap loosely around your neck and rest easily on top of your shoulders.

“I want to be respectful,” you replied drunkenly as you sank into the warmth of her body.

The space between you and her grew quiet as you swayed to the music. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged. Full of tension. Full of something more that you didn’t want to read into just yet. Though you didn’t want to figure out what it was, you couldn’t deny that it was there. It sat heavily on your skin, making your fingers twitch against Nat’s body. She smiled knowingly, her lips just a tantalizing breath away from your ear as she whispered to you.

“Are you always this shy?”

You swallowed thickly while choking out a small laugh. Natasha knew the effect that she had on you. She could feel it when your pulse thumped against her arms. She could see it in the way your pupils dilated every time you looked at her. She could see it every time your gaze dropped to her lips. At this point, you didn’t even have to say it out loud. Natasha knew that you were attracted to her, and if she were honest, she was just as attracted to you too. She’d wanted to close the distance between you and her since you protected her at the bar. Everything else that came after, including patching her up, was just foreplay.

“Only around women I find attractive,” you admitted.

“You find me attractive?” she asked coyly.

“Yes.”

You didn’t even hesitate. The admission was freely given as you looked at her lips once more. This time, instead of returning your gaze to her eyes, they lingered there, right at her lips, at the part of her that was drawing you in the most. Through your drunken haze, you imagined how soft they would be, how pliable and warm and electric...

A soft, husky chuckle drew your attention away from Natasha’s lips and back to her eyes. They were twinkling now, and you watched, jealously, as she took her lower lip and nibbled it gently between her teeth. That lip should be between yours and you both knew it.

“This is cute, watching you stare and pout like I’m not literally in your arms right now.”

You huffed, and it would have been a full laugh if you weren’t so out of it right now. “I’m drunk.”

“So am I,” she countered easily, her voice like silk.

“We just met.”

“That we did.”

“I’m not in the business of one-night stands,” you tried again.

It wasn’t like you were trying to dissuade her. You wanted this more than anything because you knew that neither of you were stopping at just a kiss, and if Natasha let you, you were going to devour her in every way that you feasibly could. You wanted her to know that if this were to happen, then you weren’t going to up and leave. If she decided that for herself, that the situation was different and all that she wanted was to fuck, then so be it. You’d admit that it affected you, but in the end, it was her decision. Natasha looked at you, her head tilting to the side curiously as she stared deep into your blown pupils. She was searching for something, and you let her. You let her search until she was satisfied, until she found whatever it was that she was looking for. You watched as she came to a conclusion, and a shy smile of her own overtook her features.

“You’re being serious.”

It wasn’t just a statement. You could hear the surprise in her voice. She said it like you were lying to get into her pants. Worst yet, she was willing to entertain you, regardless of if she wanted to or not. You could feel your face contort, the smile falling away slightly to reveal the empathy that you were feeling for her. You knew what that was like. Honey potting wasn’t a stranger to you in your line of work, and it was extremely rare for you to enjoy what you were doing when it was just seducing, and sometimes, fucking, your targets to get what you needed for your job. You didn’t want Natasha to be another face that faded in time. Something about her was drawing you in. Far be it for you to believe in love at first sight or soulmates, but you were willing to bet that what you were feeling now was something close to it. If nothing else, you respected her. So, you let your arms fall away and you took a step back.

“We don’t have to do this,” you said to her, your voice clearer than what it’d been a few seconds ago. You wanted Natasha to hear the truth in your words. “I don’t want it if you don’t either. We can conclude the night, and you can have the bed. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. I can go to the front desk to get some more sheets.”

You began to step away, but a strong and gentle hand grabbed you by your wrist. In an even stronger yank, you were pulled towards Natasha, stumbling a bit at the suddenness of the movement. Then, in the next second, your lips crashed into hers. You inhaled a sharp breath through your nose, stiffening at such a brash action. Already, an apology was on the tip of your tongue, some awareness trickling into you the moment it happened. You assumed that it was an inebriated accident, and that you were drunker than you assumed that you were, but then, Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek. Her lips moved against yours, and she deepened it. It took another drunken second to realize that this was deliberate. She wasn’t pulling away from you. It took another second more to realize that she initiated the kiss when you weren’t moving fast enough for her. You could tell that she was encouraging you, especially when her free hand guided your arm to wrap around her body. You did just that, taking her into your hold and holding her close like she would slip away at any moment.

Whatever you thought her lips were going to feel like, reality immediately put it all to shame. To say that they were soft was a huge understatement. They were like silk against yours. Pliable and warm. Delicate and silky. You couldn’t help the whimper that vibrated through your throat the moment that you felt Natasha. One kiss. Just one, but it was earth-shattering all the same. It rocked you to your core, upending your already drunken state. It made you dizzier than you already were, and you allowed yourself to sink deeper into her. Natasha was smiling against you, her lips moving against yours in a way that made your brain fog over. You pulled back once, meeting her eyes, and seeing nothing but heated want and excitement in them. You smiled too, holding her closer and feeling her warmth while your lips chased her.

True to what you thought, it wasn’t just one kiss. It was another. And another. And another. And another, until her tongue was in your mouth, her body was in your hold, her back was pressed against the nearest brick wall, and her legs were wrapped around your hips.

Distantly, the party continued, with some people cheering you and Natasha on as you fell deeper into each other. She giggled against your mouth when someone jokingly yelled at you to get a room, and suddenly, it was the best idea on the planet. Your hands gripped her thighs to hold her close, soft and warm flesh against the calluses on your palms. You couldn’t help yourself when you caressed her, greedily reveling in everything that she was offering. Natasha’s fingers tangled into your hair while her short and manicured nails lightly scratched your scalp. There wasn’t a feeling quite like this, quite like kissing this enigmatic woman in your hold. At the end of the day, she was a stranger, and yet, you knew that after this encounter, you would never be the same again.

You’re not quite sure how you and Natasha made it back to the hotel room. You remembered the commute in broken flashes. The party. The laughter. The wine bottle that you abandoned next to the bonfire. You remembered the fire escape door groaning in protest the moment that you opened it. The hinges screeched, the metal and rust grating loudly in the dark staircase. There were more kisses. More giggles. More touches. More, more, more of her. Then, there was the room. The door barely closed before clothing littered the floor. Her dress. Your shirt. Her hitched breath as you snapped off her bra in one practiced move. Natasha sighed when you kissed her on her collar bones, her head tipping back as she hugged you closer with sure hands. You drowned in her, submerging yourself into her body as you worshipped her with each layer of clothing that she allowed you to remove. She was equally as attentive. Touching, grasping, and caressing every inch of you that she could as she undressed you meticulously.

When Natasha was completely naked and sprawled out on the bed below you, you took the moment to drink her in. Really drink her in. In the low, ambient lighting of the room, what you noticed was that she was covered in marks. New bruises and old. Scars that faded in time. Burn scars. Evidence of past battles that you knew nothing about. It wasn’t going to stop you, unless she wanted you to stop, but you did hesitate. Natasha seemed to see the brief pause that you took because she looked at you. Her eyes widened when she looked down her body, as if remembering what littered her skin. She opened and closed her mouth while struggling to come up with some sort of explanation. Immediately, blood flooded her cheeks, but it wasn’t a blush born in the moment.

No.

This was something else. You could see the fear and nervousness twist her facial features. Such emotions didn’t look fitting on her, like seeing them on someone that walked into the bar so confidently several hours before this moment was stranger than having a literal stranger naked beneath you. You could tell, just by looking at Natasha, that these were all foreign emotions for her as well. It was like watching someone discover that they could do something that they always thought they were incapable of doing. She swallowed thickly and began to sit up, her hand reaching for the blankets to cover herself. Natasha’s lips parted to say something, but you beat her to it, deciding then and there to grab the blankets to stop her. She let you, the cotton sheets slipping from her grasp as you threw them to the side. Then, you eased yourself down her body, meeting her steady gaze, and settling yourself between her open legs.

“You don’t have to explain a thing to me,” you whispered as you pressed a filthy kiss against the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. You met her eyes, willing her to listen to the sincerity of your words.

“Not.”

Kiss

“A.”

Kiss

“Thing.”

Natasha’s eyes widened before pleasure fully began to take over. The initial shock faded to make room for something that she could no longer ignore. And you could smell her. Her arousal. Her desire. It filled your senses and made your mouth water. You ached for a taste of her. To let her fully consume you the way that you’ve been wanting since the moment she kissed you on the ceiling of the hotel. Sure fingers threaded into your hair as she gently guided you to where she needed you to be. She watched, enthralled and mesmerized, as you took her all in. Natasha was on the receiving end of innocent devotion. She was going to be with someone in a way that has never happened to her before.

The truth was that Natasha Romanoff wanted this. She’d never wanted something so bad in her life. If she didn’t have your mouth on her within the next second, she was sure to combust. Already, she could feel your breath. Heavy pants of warm air brushed over her soaking and sensitive flesh, and it was becoming harder and harder for Natasha to keep still under your hold. You pressed a kiss, light and gentle, over her clit, and you were rewarded to hear her whimper. It was nothing dramatic. It was as soft as a whisper and equally as muted, like she was surprised to hear such a sound leave her mouth. You smiled as you felt what this was doing to her. Your teasing. Her thighs flexed, and if you had your fingers inside her, you were sure to feel her body clench around you. Her back lightly arched off the bed, and you chuckled, the sound deep and cocky.

“Is this pussy mine for tonight, sweetheart?” you cooed against her as you pressed another consuming and teasing kiss against her thigh.

Your tongue reached out to lick the small bit of smudged desire across tender skin, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you. Fuck. She was delicious. Tasting every bit as good as a woman is supposed to. Some salt from dancing and being human. All musk. All her.

It took a few deep breaths of steady breathing before Natasha was able to answer. Her fingers gripped your hair tighter as she tried to think through the haze that suffocated all rational thought.

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t help you along,” she finally answered, her voice breathless.

“And yet you’re here, under me, leaving a wet spot on the sheets when I haven’t even done anything to you yet. So, I’ll ask again. Is this pussy mine?”

To drive your point home, you licked her, full bodied, warm and wet, but it wasn’t where she needed you to lick. You went lower, licking the few drops of come that trailed down her center and smudged near her ass. You licked in a place no other person has dared to venture, the tip of your tongue teasing the tender flesh of her ass. You even pressed in, gently easing a bit inside of her before immediately withdrawing and savoring her taste. Natasha was in shambles. Your move had the desire affect on her when her thighs closed around your head and her breath hitched.

“Yes!” she breathed, her chest rising and falling, and her voice weak. “Fuck, it’s yours!”

That was all you needed to hear. You did away with all the teasing when you could feel Natasha shaking in your hold. You settled each leg over your shoulders, ensuring that she was comfortable and you had a good hold onto her, before diving in. You didn’t even ease her into it. What you did before was a prelude to what was going to happen. She had her warning. Immediately, your lips found her clit, sure and gentle, and you eased it into your mouth before you laved it mercilessly with your tongue. Natasha spasmed, her jaw dropping and her legs falling open when you began to sooth the throbbing ache that’d plagued her for hours now. She cursed as she began to roll her lips and chase after the pleasure that you were giving her. You weren’t nice about it. No part of you was aiming to be neat. You devoured her, the entirety of your face pressed against her core as you continued to move your tongue against her. Her juices coated your cheeks and chin, and you made it your personal mission to have the taste of her scorched and imbedded into your memory.

Natasha was a quiet lover. She was moaning and whimpering, but it was reserved. Quiet. Almost shy. However, what she couldn’t make in sound, she made in actions. You were sucking on her clit, your hands keeping her legs apart to give yourself unrestrained access to her. And Natasha? She was fully fucking your face. Her hips moved unabashedly against you, rutting against you with shameless abandon. One hand freed itself from your hair to tease a nipple between her fingers.

“Fingers,” Natasha moaned. “Now.”

You chuckled against her, loving the way she was ordering you around as you acquiesced to her command. It was hot watching her succumb to this and to you. She allowed you access to her body, and not only were you going to respect her, but you also weren’t going to squander this moment. You pulled away to slip two fingers into your mouth, and you pressed them against your tongue, lubing them with a combination of your spit and her come. She watched you closely, her eyes darkening further when she watched you remove those fingers with a lewd, wet pop. Then, you were aligning them with her core, gently easing them in before sinking them just enough to curl them. Natasha gasped, her eyes threatening to roll to the back of her head.

You fingered her for a few minutes as you allowed her body to adjust. The moment that it did, the exact moment that you felt her suck your fingers in deeper, was the moment you leaned down to take her clit back into your mouth. She was already close, but this was torture. Your fingers massaging that spot within her with devastating precision. Your lips and tongue sucking her clit until you could literally feel it throb in your mouth. It was too much. The energy withing Natasha’s body rose until it reached a threshold.

“I-I’m-” she tried, her voice suddenly cutting off. “I’m gonna-”

Oh, you knew. You could literally feel her body tensing. Her pussy squeezed your fingers. Her hips bucked against your tongue wildly, the rhythm devolving the closer she got to her orgasm. Now that she was here, Natasha was moving without rhyme or reason. She was gone, completely lost to the demands of her body. Through it all, you had no intention of stopping. Not even to answer her. Instead, you hummed, your dark eyes greedily opening to watch her. Natasha’s back was arched to the max. Her head was thrown back, her sweaty, red hair fanning out over the pillow. More moans spilled out of her, her breaths sawing in and out from dry lips. Her thighs were shaking despite her moving hips. You had to watch her. You had to watch her fall over the edge, and your humming seemed to be the catalyst to such an event. Feeling the vibrations against her clit sent Natasha over the edge. Her breath froze in her lungs the moment the orgasmic bomb detonated within her. She shook, her body straining against the waves of pleasure that washed over. You didn’t stop. You watched it all, not blinking once. Blood rushed to Natasha’s cheeks, and she released the loudest moan yet when she was finally able to suck oxygen into her aching lungs. You felt a small burst of fluid splash against your fingers, lips, and chin, and you growled hungrily as you tried to drink it down. There was no way that you would let the sheets absorb what was meant for you.

Natasha’s orgasm consumed her, drowning and overtaking her completely. To date, it was the strongest one she’d ever had. It wasn’t even one that she had to fake. It was as real as gravity, and it ravaged her. You kept going, prolonging everything as she fought to hold her grip on reality. She could feel it from the roots of her hair and to the tips of her toes. The best orgasm she’s ever had, and you were the one to give it to her. With your caring nature and gentle touches, it was like you knew what she needed without her having to say anything. Natasha has always favored gentle sex due to the life she’s lived, and despite the debauchery of you devouring her and making a mess of it, you were still gentle. Infinitely so.

Even as she began to come down, you were gentle with it, easing her back into her body with kitten licks and gentle rolls of your fingers inside of her. By the time Natasha was able to breathe and bask in the afterglow, you were cleaning her up with your tongue, careful not to overstimulate her. Natasha was having a heard time accepting what just happened, and she laughed, actually laughed, in disbelief. That happened and she threw her arm over her eyes as her free hand untangled itself from your hair to run her fingers through the tangles she created. You leaned into her touch, still licking, still tasting, and still savoring her as you smiled.

“Something funny?” you asked, your voice husky.

Instead of answering, Natasha removed her arm to look down at you, her eyes bright with a perfect eyebrow elegantly raised. Her cheeks were flushed, the change in skin tone bringing out the cute dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her skin glossy with it, and you had more filthy daydreams of running your tongue over her just to taste the salt. Natasha reached down to grab you and pull you up her body. You smirked, expecting a kiss, but that’s not what happened. The moment that you were in line with her, and just as you were about to press your lips against hers, Natasha wrapped her legs and arms around you before twisting. Your center of gravity was thrown off when you felt yourself fall to the side, and you flailed a bit before your back hit the bed. Suddenly, you were on your back and staring at the ceiling while Natasha straddled your stomach. She’d switch positions in a show of strength, and as you breathed, you could feel Natasha’s wet pussy pressing against your skin.

Your eyes were wide at what just happened, but the moment your brain caught up to your body, you smiled and rested your hands on her thighs. Natasha looked at you devilishly as the tip of her tongue licked at her bottom lip. She reached behind her with sure fingers and a confidence unmatched to touch you. You sighed, your legs falling open automatically as you felt her fingers part your center. Immediately, they went towards your entrance, the tips dipping in teasingly before she slowly removed them and brought them to her mouth. She hummed, her smile curling sharper as she sucked you clean from her skin. She removed those fingers from her mouth before using that same hand to grab your throat. She wasn’t aggressive, and if anything, it was mostly pressure against your collarbones, but you went pliant under her. Natasha watched as your eyes dilated and your breathing became heavier. Her smile became mischievous as she parted your legs with her own and settled between them in the available space. Just moments before, you were teasing her for how wet she was before you ate her out. Now that it was your turn, you could feel how drenched you were. Eating her out really did something to you, something feral and borderline inhuman. It was the hottest thing that you’ve witnessed in a while, and watching Natasha come because of you was the equivalent of someone hooking a car battery to your arousal and flooring the gas pedal.

The moment that you spread your legs, you felt cool air against your pussy. You swallowed thickly, watching her closely to see what she would do. Natasha watched you, her hand holding you down to the bed while her other caressed its way down your body and to your center.

“My turn,” she whispered before you felt two fingers sink themselves into you.

+++

The city was loud last night, and the following morning, the noise had hardly quieted. Sirens still cut through the morning air. Voices still echoed down the halls of the hotel. The city was still under lockdown, but you were just waking up. You slept like the dead, when Natasha let you that is, and it was some of the best sleep that you’d ever had. You blinked against the morning light, your head rising from the pillow as you looked around groggily. You were on your stomach with it cuddled into your hold. Your body ached deliciously, a testament to what Natasha put you through last night. Your hair was in complete disarray, and the bed was in no better shape. If anything, some of the sheets were hanging off the sides of the mattress, the edges of it sprawled across the floor. Some of the sheets were pulled from the corners and tangled into themselves haphazardly on the mattress. It looked like something had torn the bed apart, and you couldn’t help the giggle that left you. It was short-lived though because something about the room wasn’t right. Something was missing.

And it was the woman you hoped to share the bed with.

You noticed immediately that her side of the bed was cold, and though you were disoriented, you knew that you were alone in the hotel room. You sighed and let your head flop onto the pillow as you released a breath. No strings attached. That’s what you said, and you meant it. Still, you hoped that last night had been something more than just a hookup. You checked your phone and noted the time. You still had a few hours until you had to leave for your extraction point, and with the city on lockdown, getting there will be no easy feat. You might as well shower and get ready now.

You were just sitting up and stretching the soreness from your muscles when the door opened. Startled, your hand automatically reached for the gun you had, training it towards the intruder, when a familiar face strolled in. Natasha. In her hands was a tray full of food and drinks, and she was closing the door behind her when she looked up to see a gun pointing at her.

“Well,” she said easily, smiling even when you lowered the gun into your lap. “It wasn’t the hello I was hoping for.”

“You’re unsurprised to see me with this?” you asked.

“I undressed you, sweetheart. I had to get through the gun before I got in your pants.”

You laughed. “Touché.” You hesitated as you watched her carry the food closer to you. “I thought that you left.”

“Oh?” she said as she balanced the tray easily in one hand. She used her other to take your gun and place it on the nightstand. “You assumed that?”

You felt horrible for doing so, but previous experiences taught you that people will leave before they stay. You’ve woken up in plenty of cold beds that had nothing to do with seduction in a work setting.

Natasha didn’t expect you to answer, and she didn’t push for one. Instead, she placed the tray on your lap before leaning in and kissing you deeply. You hummed into it, reveling in the press of her lips against yours, and secretly, enjoying the moment of domesticity. The moment she pulled away, she plucked some bread from the platter and smiled at you.

“Eat, sweetheart. I know what I did to you last night.”

That was putting it lightly. When you looked down to see what food she brought, you noticed the deep, dark marks that she left across your upper chest. You’d been too into the moment to realize what was going on, but now that you could see yourself in the light, you were covered in bruises. You could still feel her teeth sinking into your body last night, and you ran a finger lightly over the welts with a dreamy smile on your face. Natasha watched you, her expression light as she ate in silence. She was wearing the same dress from last night, not having any other clothes to change into, and you watched as the sun bathed her in light. Everything about her was just as breath taking as it was when you saw her in the bar. Now that she was glowing, you couldn’t help but take her in.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“So are you,” you quipped and she smiled.

“That I am.”

She sat back on the bed with her back against the headboard and reached for one of the cups of coffee that she brought. You focused on eating and enjoying the quiet morning. All things considered, it was rare for you to have a morning after. This was nice. You wrapped the sheet around your body to preserve your modesty as you dug into the food. You didn’t realize how famished you were until you bit into some fruit and groaned. Natasha’s smile widened, but she remained silent. You devoured the food before you, enjoying every bite and savoring all the flavors until everything was consumed.

When you were finished, Natasha took the dishes and the tray, and sat it on the floor away from the bed. You watched her, some nervousness seeping into you as you mustered up the courage to talk about the elephant in the room. Last night. It happened, and despite you wishing that it’d been a drunken hallucination brought about by your loneliness, the woman that rocked your world for several hours last night was now seated beside you. She was just sitting up and turning to you when you released a breath and threw caution to the wind. It was now or never, and the more you thought about it, the faster that you were going to chicken out.

“Um, Natasha, about last night? Nothing needs to come from this. I’d understand if it was just one night.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression still relaxed and light as she let you finish your spiel.

“And I know that I said that I don’t do hookups, but last night was amazing. I had fun and I hope that you did too.”

When you were done, you looked up to see her watching you with unwavering green eyes. At first, you couldn’t gauge her reaction. It was unnervingly stoic. Nothing about her betrayed what was going through her head, and you couldn’t tell how she was taking all of this. You’ve had guns pointed at you. You’ve survived knife fights, explosions, botched missions, and the occasional torture session on the extremely rare times that you were caught during your missions. You lived through each and every occupational hazard that came with your line of work. Bottles of ibuprofen and the occasional therapy session became your saving grace, and you were still alive today, worse for wear, but none of it compared to this one moment. You’re not entirely sure if Natasha blinked. If her chest wasn’t rising and falling from her breathing, you would have assumed that she died on the bed. Which would be your luck. You just had some of the best sex of your life with one of the most beautiful women alive, and she died the next morning. Typical.

You cleared your throat, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t said anything at all. You were going to vomit, and you wondered if it would just be best to get up, get dressed, and leave. Your heart thundered wildly behind your chest, and it wasn’t until you released an unsteady breath did Natasha finally hum. She tilted her head to the side in contemplation, her eyes not leaving you as she thought about what you said.

“You’re intriguing,” she began, and you swallowed thickly, confused as to what that could mean.

“T-Thank you?”

She smirked. “You’re intriguing and enigmatic. Last night was wonderful and I’m infinitely glad that you also had a wonderful time.”

Calling it a “wonderful time” would put it extremely lightly. It was one of the best nights of your life. Not simply for the sex, and not because you had a successful mission. It was because of Natasha, the woman in front of you that made you feel important and heard.

“How about we meet up in the near future and do this right?” she suggested. Her voice was serious and her green eyes were bright.

You gave her a wide smile, one that displayed the hope that you felt. “I’d like that.”

+++

“Why does it looked like you were attacked by a vampire?” Kate asked you when you finally returned to the office later in the day.

You were exhausted and jet lagged. Since Paris was still on lockdown, you had to leave the city and go to the southern countryside to get extracted back home, and it sucked. You had to bribe a taxi driver with an insane amount of euros to drive you there because no one else was brave or daring enough to do it otherwise. If it came to it, you weren’t necessarily above stealing a car, but you had to be smart with the situation. Even when you traveled with a native, you were stopped seven times by French authorities because they were still looking for single female tourists. Unluckily, you fit the description. It took so much longer to reach your coordinates, and you were nervous that you were going to miss the time window. The agency that you worked for was not forgiving.

You sighed as you sauntered towards your desk, and when you didn’t answer, Kate took matters into her own hands. She reached for the collar of your shirt and yanked the material away from your skin to get a better look. The moment that she did, you batted her hand away and scowled, but it was too late. Kate gasped dramatically, her smile curling into something mischievous like the Grinch.

“You got laid!”

“Can you shut up?!” you hissed between your teeth. You grabbed her hand and yanked her into your office before anyone could hear. “Damn! Not everyone needs to know.”

Kate, undeterred by your reaction, cackled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Finally! I was waiting for you to finally get slutted out. How was it?”

You groaned, sinking into your desk chair with your fingers rubbing your temples. Kate hovered close by, her eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. It was clear that she wouldn’t leave unless you told her everything that happened.

“Why are you so interested in this?” you asked her instead.

“Because someone owes me two hundred dollars and I was starting to think that you were going to die a virgin.”

“W-Whaaa.... Two hundred dollars?!?!”

Kate’s bet on your ability to get laid gave you emotional whiplash. It took a moment for you to realize that she’d bet money on you at all, and that if you hadn’t met Natasha, she would be out of a sizeable stack of cash. Served her right when you thought about it.

“What the hell do you mean right now?? I haven’t been a virgin since college,” you pointed out.

“Oh please,” Kate scoffed. “It’s been so long that I thought your hymen was going to weave itself back together.”

You blanched and frowned. “That’s so sick and wrong.”

Kate waved away your revulsion as she steered the conversation back to her topic of interest. “Dude, don’t be a prude! How was it???”

You rolled your eyes. Kate was your best friend. You’ve known her since you both were in diapers, and it just so happened that you both got hired at the same agency. A decision that you wondered whether it was on purpose. Despite her rambunctious personality, Kate was one of the top agents in her division. She knew how to get shit done and deliver the results that the bosses wanted. You just wished that one of her special skills was knowing when to be discreet at work.

“It was good,” you told her. Kate raised her eyebrows, not satisfied with your answer, and you sighed. “It was great, actually. Better than great. I swear it changed my whole outlook on life.”

Despite the awkwardness surrounding the discussion of your night, you found yourself smiling. You could practically feel Natasha’s hands and mouth on you as you thought about it. You could still feel her fingers sinking into you, curling just right, hitting that spot within you that you didn’t know existed. You could feel her tongue laving on your clit, sucking it gently into her mouth to make you cry out. You swallowed thickly and blinked hard to force yourself back into the present. Kate was smiling devilishly as she leaned on your desk.

“You’re fucking smiling,” she stated triumphantly, her smile curling into something on the border of wicked. “Oh my god, I know that she made you come.”

“Multiple times,” you answered with a smile.

At that, Kat cackled. Literally cackled. She threw herself away from your desk and swung your door open excitedly. She was a few steps down the hall when you heard her voice.

“Pay up, bitches! Baby girl got her eggs cracked!”

A chorus of groans and sighs echoed down the hallway. Someone grumbled about how it was that she cheated, which would be impressive. You’re sure that Kate was not above hiring someone for you if that meant that she won the bet, but you knew that running into Natasha was a happy accident. You scoffed and signed into your computer. Unlike her, you had work that you needed to do. Paperwork needed to be signed and sent off. Your equipment needed to be turned in and cleaned. You had to get ready for your next mark, so you concentrated on what you needed to do while making a mental reminder to shake Kate down for a cut of her winnings. You’d be damned if she made money off you and didn’t share it.

After Paris, you saw Natasha multiple times. You agreed to take it slow, to really get to know each other. The chemistry was there, but a relationship took more than that, and you wanted to do things right. It was a few years of dating her for a while before you tied the knot. In that time, you learned that she worked as an international assistant, which helped you because she did travel a lot. That meant that she wouldn’t really notice how often you were gone for your job. You didn’t want to tell her about your life as an assassin, so you told her that you were a bureaucrat. It made sense. You worked at a desk and had a job that focused more on paperwork than the bigger picture. It wasn’t a complete lie...but it also wasn’t the total truth. You made sure that your work didn’t bleed into your home life, and in retrospection, you may have done too well of a job. You genuinely don’t remember when things became so stale. What was the tipping point? When did it all come to a screeching halt? You remember the moments when you were excited to come home and greet your wife. Then, you’d spent countless hours being around her because it felt like there wasn’t enough time in the day. There was intimacy. There was sex. There was laughter. There were all the things that made a house a home...

Nine, or ten, if you were Natasha, years have passed, and here were how things ended. Marital mediation.

Bruce stared at you as you recounted a tame version of how you and Natasha met. No one needed to know how it was you got to Paris or what you were doing there. You explained the bare minimum, and Bruce, to his credit, smiled and listened.

“It sounds like it was an unusual circumstance that led to you meeting each other. What I am sensing is a bit of a communication barrier,” he began and you had to stop yourself from making an outward reaction.

No shit, Sherlock. If it really was that easy, then you wouldn’t be here.

“Why don’t we reconvene after two weeks, and we can pick up from where we left off?” Bruce suggested.

“Sure, Doc,” you said as you stood up and offered your hand to Natasha. She took it automatically, a reflex that she gained from you always doing small things to help her through life. “Whatever you say.”

Natasha gave him a cordial nod before she headed towards the door of his office. You did the same, following her as you released a tired sigh.

Why did this feel like such a huge waste of time?

+++

“I have to go out of town for a work conference,” you said as you packed a bag.

Truthfully, you were leaving town for a mark in Mexico. You just received the assignment today and needed to be in position by midday tomorrow, or else your window would close. It’d been two days since your appointment with Dr. Banner, and things slid back to normal too easily. The same monotony greeted you the next morning when you opened your eyes. You saw the same bedroom. The same opulent mansion. The same expensive kitchen. The same circular driveway. The same massive garage. All things considered, you shouldn’t complain. You and Natasha lived in one of the nicest and richest neighborhoods in New York. It was where the nouveau riche lived, where money and wealth were flaunted to its max. It was easy to buy this house and to fill it with two expensive cars. It was easier still to fill the house with expensive artwork, exorbitant vases, lavish sculptures, and extravagant marble. Back then, you and Natasha were excited at your combined wealth, able to spend on things that thrilled you. Years ago, it was marble and silk rugs. Now, you couldn’t care less. It was all a part of your everyday life. Every two weeks, you’d pay someone well above their rates to clean the mansion. You hired a gardener to do the same around the yard, or else the HOA would fine you. At the end of the day, it meant nothing. It wasn’t your priority. Your priority was sitting a few feet away from you, her attention not even on you.

Nat hummed, her reading glasses perched low on her nose as she read a book. Her hair was thrown into a loose bun. She wore a simple tank top and shorts that displayed much of her flawless skin. At least she looked relaxed as she crossed one leg over the other. Natasha barely spared you a glance as she idly turned a page and continued reading.

“Dinner is at eight.”

It always is. You leaned over to press a kiss against her cheek, and she let you, subtly leaning into the contact as she hummed in acknowledgement. When you went to press a kiss on her lips, she raised an eyebrow, suddenly aware of how close you were to her. Nat leaned back, her eyes on yours as she frowned.

“I’m not really in the mood.”

That was all she said, and you swallowed thickly as you tried to choke down the hurt. You didn’t even want sex, which is what she assumed that you wanted. You just wanted to kiss your wife the way that you used to. You stood up straight and watched as she went back to her book, her attention moving away from you in a way that made your heart throb. Maybe it really was time to call it. Maybe it was time to end the relationship and move on. Honestly, you couldn’t keep doing this. Talking to Dr. Banner about how you met made you realize just how much you missed the passion and the intimacy in your relationship. You missed small things like conversations and laughter. This wasn’t what you needed, and you hated that what started as the best part of your life was about to end here. You sighed, zipped your duffel bag closed, and swung it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Again, Nat hummed and nodded, not saying anything. By the time you made it to your car, you realized that not once did she say that she loved you. The words sat empty and unsaid in your chest, and you wondered at what point in your marriage did you realize that you said them for the last time to the one person that you loved most on this planet.

+++

“Jesus, Natasha. Why not just make her sleep on the couch?” Maria grumbled as she typed furiously on her computer. “Or better yet, why not divorce her?”

Nat looked at her harshly, her green eyes cutting, her arms crossed, and her shoulders straight. She wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response because Maria knew how she felt about the situation. It wasn’t that easy. How could she go about telling her wife and her best friend that she was a part of a secret government agency. How could she tell you that she was an Avenger, and one of the most famous ones at that? It wasn’t something that rolled off the tongue. At first, Natasha refused to tell you because she was worried about your safety. She fabricated the lie out of necessity. When she met you in France, it was to gather intel on the president, though by the time she arrived, he was already dead. That annoyed her, because she went there for nothing, but then, she met you. And she had the best night of her life. Despite all the things that didn’t add up about you, like the gun that you managed to smuggle into the one country with the most stringent gun laws, Natasha was happy to fall for you and to fall in love with you.

But life got in the way. Though she was an Avenger, her skillset was in espionage and assassinations, which meant that by choice, her face and likeness couldn’t be plastered all over the news. It would take seconds for her past to come back to haunt her, and that was something that she didn't want to happen to you. Natasha didn’t want you to be used against her. For her safety and yours, the world knew her by her alias. The Black Widow. The sharp, crimson hourglass symbol was her calling card. It was how her assignments knew who she was. It was the last thing that they saw before she put a bullet between their eyes.

“Natasha,” Maria said as she turned her attention away from her computer. “Seriously, just call it. The relationship is dead. What you had is gone. The excitement was there but now things are getting in the way.”

“Things like SHIELD,” Nat clarified.

The Avengers weren’t as much of a problem these days. Fury only assembled them when things had gone to shit. World-dominating gods, murderous AI robots, and a galactic warlord hellbent on the destruction of the universe were all valid instances when the Avengers were called to save the world. But that was back when you and Natasha were dating. It was easier to explain her weeks long absences in your relationship. Now, most of the Avengers were more or less retired because things had finally settled down. Fury wasn’t going to let her retire any time soon, not that she wanted to. She thought that she could balance her life, but now Natasha couldn’t ignore what was going on with her relationship with you. She cultivated a career in which she could read people like a book. She knew their tells. She knew when they told lies. She knew exactly what to do to manipulate a situation to achieve her desired outcome. However, when it came to you, she didn’t know what to do. She hoped that the appointment with Dr. Banner would reveal something, but all it did was make her wish for the things that she used to have.

“Most people don’t have jobs that require them to kill or fuck people to topple governments and regimes,” Maria pointed out.

Natasha rolled her eyes though it was a true statement. “I’m thinking about telling her the truth.”

“You’d better tell Fury first. You know that he’s going to make her sign a stack of NDAs.”

Maria was all about her job. No one knew where she lived, not even Fury. She kept her life a complete secret and Natasha was the same. The only people that knew of you were Maria and Fury. Not even the Avengers knew about you, and that was how Natasha wanted it. There were very few people that she trusted in life. She talked about you regularly to Maria than anyone else because she usually had sound advice, and Maria knew not to tell anyone about Nat’s personal life. As for the advice, today was not a good day apparently. If her only advice was to divorce you, then Natasha was in trouble.

“I wish that I can tell you that everything will be sunshine and rainbows, but you know better than anyone else that the world doesn’t spout bullshit like that. I say divorce her and move on. Life’s too short and you can find someone else that you can be yourself with. If not, tell her the truth and get ready for the consequences, whether good or bad. But whatever it is you’re going to do, do it.”

Maria turned around and handed Natasha a folder.

“What’s this?” Nat asked as she opened it and flipped through it.

“Your next assignment. Your target took the bait and is headed to Mexico right now. We just got confirmation.”

SHIELD has been tracking this target for months. Whoever they were, they were good. Professional. Clean. Expertly trained. They were thorough with their intel and clean with their kills. Fury always knew that there were rival companies, and as long as they worked on their own turf, then it wasn’t a problem. With this one, they were getting cocky. It got to the point where they sent them after one of his SHIELD agents, and they were good enough to kill their mark. Since then, it was an all-out war to figure out who this agent was and how to kill them. Fury wasn’t suicidal enough to go after the company, but he was livid enough to place a mark on their most prized assassin. It just so happens that this assassin was assigned the bait like Fury hoped would happen. It wasn’t something that he wanted to concern Natasha with, but with his mark evading every other agent, it was time to send out the best of the best. Who better than an Avenger?

“Midday,” Maria clarified as Natasha skimmed the dossier. “One chance.”

Natasha nodded and was just about to get ready for her mission when Maria stopped her.

“And stop icing out your own wife. It sounds like she’s trying. Why not meet her halfway and stop making things harder than they need to be?”

Nat looked at her. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like she’s hiding something from me.”

Maria frowned. “Like what? You checked her job and it seems legit. You tailed her one time, and she went everywhere that she said she’d go. She isn’t having an affair. She doesn't have a secret love child or family. You covered all of your bases. What’s there to hide?”

At that, Nat couldn’t answer, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t full suspicion, but there were things nagging at her, things that she couldn’t shake. Natasha hadn’t forgotten about the day that she met you, but it made her wonder why a civilian would have access to a gun if they were just touring. It was something that she completely forgot about. In addition, you were secretive. Not in the way that would suggest that you were unfaithful, but in a way that made Nat believe that whatever it was, it was impacting her relationship with you. Small things. Little secrets. More that made Nat feel that she wasn’t the only person hiding something. Far be it for her to suddenly be a hypocrite. Natasha couldn’t call the pot black without being the kettle herself. Maria made a decent point, but Natasha couldn’t ignore her own instincts. She didn’t have an answer for Maria but that didn’t stop the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. Yes, she was hiding something, but she knew that you were too, and she didn’t know if she was ready to learn what it was.

+++

It was blistering hot in Mexico. It was the kind of sweltering that made you wish that removing your skin was an option. The dry, desert heat was hell on you as you got to work setting up your perimeter. The sweat that ran down your back did very little to cool you down. If anything, it was incredibly itchy as it soaked into your clothing. You scratched your forehead again as salted tracks trailed down your flushed skin.

Sniper? Check. RPG? Check. You mentally ran through your checklist to make sure you had all your gear. Satellite laptop. Sniper rifle. Detonator for the bombs you placed. Your Kevlar vest, which you had on. You were already camouflaged to blend into the environment, to make it harder for your target to spot you until it was already too late. You were lying on your stomach, the dirt and dust blowing around you with the breeze. The sun was cooking you alive, and you’ve already had to kick three scorpions away from you. It wasn’t the worst conditions to work in, but you had to admit that these weren’t ideal.

Luckily, your target would be arriving any moment now, and you prepared your sniper. You already had a plan. Kill the mark with your sniper. Blow up the vehicle using the RPG. Snipe anyone else to clean up the scene. Detonate the area. It wasn’t the cleanest, but it was the most effective. It’d burn away most of the evidence and the explosions would scramble what was left. Then you could go home.

In the distance, something was headed your way. You could see dust belching into the air from the tires of a lone vehicle on the dirt road. Perfect. When you checked your watch, you breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Right on time. You settled onto the ground and kept your head low, closing one eye while using the other to peer into the scope. As the vehicle got closer, you took note of all who were inside. Your target was in the back seat and sitting on either side of him were two bodyguards. There was another driving the car. You frowned, leaning back from the sniper to look around. This was the only car out there. If this was such a high-profile target, why were there only a total of three bodyguards? It didn’t sit right with you, but you put all this effort into setting up and you weren’t going to leave empty-handed.

You forced away all your concerns as you returned your eye back to the scope. You slowed your breathing, deep inhales of dry heat filling your lungs as you counted in between heartbeats. Your finger readied over the trigger, prepared to pull it when you felt like you had the shot. You would have taken it if it weren’t for the glint of light that distracted you. At first, you thought that it was the sun and you readjusted yourself minutely to get away from the glare. But then, it happened again. A flash of light, fleeting, there and gone, but it was distracting. You pulled away from your sniper with a groan and looked around you. That’s when you saw it. In the distance, behind the bright sunlight, so small that you overlooked it, was a shadow. It looked like a small hump, something that could be mistaken as a rock if it weren’t so smooth. Something about it wasn’t right. You lowered your sniper and grabbed your binoculars to look through them. That’s when you saw it. That shadow wasn’t a rock. It was a person, and you could see that something was aimed right at you.

Your eyes widened, reflex kicking in when your brain was too slow to think through the situation. You rolled right as you heard something ricochet off the ground. Not even a second later, you heard a crack through the air. You knew what that was. The sound of metal against rock rang dissonantly through your ears harshly enough to make them ache. It filled you with a harrowing truth.

Someone was trying to kill you. You were quick as you grabbed your sniper and aimed. You didn’t look through the scope, not knowing how much time you had before they tried again to shoot you. You had your Kevlar, but even that wasn’t strong enough to stop sniper rounds. You pulled the trigger, the gun jerking with enough recoil to strain your wrist. You winced but you were already moving. It missed your attacker by a few meters, but it bought you some time. You pivoted the sniper and aimed it at the car that was just about to drive by, the window to execute your job rapidly closing. You breathed hard as your pulse thundered rapidly through your grip. You pulled the trigger only to miss. Instead of hitting your target, you hit one of the bodyguards. The driver slammed on the brakes, the car coming to a screeching halt just as another bullet sailed over you to embed itself into a rock behind you. 

“Fuck this!” you snapped as you pushed the sniper away.

You were already compromised. There was no way that you could get this done when you knew that someone was fucking up your perimeter. You grabbed the detonator and pushed the button. It clicked and beeped just as the ring of bombs that you placed earlier exploded in a near perfect circle. You hoped that your mark was in the perfect spot to get blown sky high, but the real reason why you pushed the trigger was to create some cover. Sand belched into the sky and completely engulfed the sun. It drowned everything in dust and muddy brown. The air became dry and chalky, but you were already moving. You grabbed the RPG and aimed it at the last place that you saw your assailant.

“Shoot this,” you mumbled as you fired the missile.

It cut through the dust cloud, the smoke and debris curving and folding around the projectile as you watched it zero in on its target. Seconds later, you heard another violent explosion before another dust cloud polluted the blue sky and clean air. You were already moving, grabbing everything and throwing it onto your motorcycle. You were just throwing on your helmet when you felt something slice your upper arm. You grunted, barely able to hear another shot before you kicked the bike to life and drove away. The adrenaline was numbing the pain from being grazed, but you could feel blood soaking into your shirt and dripping down your skin. You ignored it, doing everything that you could to put distance between you and whoever that was. You grabbed all your gear so there was no chance that you would be discovered, but that was the least of your worries. Your boss was going to rip you a new one. And it was like he knew what was going on because you could hear a call being patched into your helmet. You swallowed thickly and answered it.

“What happened?” he asked as the voice modulator distorted his words.

“There was another player in the field,” you answered as you revved the engine. “The mark got away.”

You didn’t need to verify. You didn’t get a chance to shoot him.

“Clean. It. Up,” the voice barked. “You know what happens. You have twenty-four hours.”

You didn’t get the chance to respond. The call suddenly cut off, and you swore harshly. You had eyes in the sky. Kate was your camera man and would have stayed behind to fly the drone even after you fled the scene. If there was anything to help you identify your attacker, she would have seen it. You whipped out your phone and dialed her number. Kate picked up on the first ring.

“Dude! What the fuck was that?!”

“I don’t know but I sure am interested to find out,” you replied as you switched gears and raced back to your agency.

+++

Natasha couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry. She was barely able to dodge those shots, but she didn’t survive the RPG unscathed. Something was cutting deep into her back, luckily high enough to miss vital organs, but still deep enough that it fucking burned in agony. She ripped the mask off her face, and spat out the dirt in her mouth, as she kicked away her sniper and shook the rocks and dust from her body. Something was dripping down her forehead, and when she reached up to wipe it away, Natasha realized that it was blood. Her own. There was a shallow cut on her hairline, and in comparison to every other injury she’s received at this job, she really didn’t give a damn. She rolled onto her feet easily, despite the pain that flared sickeningly in her back. She was already reaching for her phone and calling Maria. She answered immediately.

“Get me satellite images and a ride home,” Nat said calmly. Maria didn’t ask any questions. Natasha could hear her typing on her keyboard.

“This doesn’t sound like a mission success,” she commented after a minute.

“I want to find out who exactly that was. I want to know everything about them, and I want to know how it is that they keep getting away.”

On the phone, Nat’s voice was calm, but underneath, she was seething with rage. Her hands were shaking, and whether it was from anger or from the injury, she couldn’t tell anymore. All that mattered to her was that she found out who did this and quickly because she wasn’t going to let them get away. It wasn’t about reputation. This was, officially, personal.

+++

Hours later and you were back in New York. Your arm ached fiercely, the graze you received throbbing under Kate’s administrations. She was cleaning it thoroughly, using Q-tips and antiseptic to clean the blood, dirt, and grime. She was pinching it closed now, using strong fingers to compress the skin and bandage it. You were reviewing the footage from every angle imaginable, watching it all until you saw something of interest: the indiscernible insignia on the person's uniform. All you could see was that whoever it was had red hair and was clad, head to toe, in black. You reviewed the footage for an hour now as Kate patched you back together, and it seemed as though you weren’t getting anywhere. This was a professional. There were no defining marks. No tattoos. Just hair in a neat braid and a body suit that hid everything from sight. You were just about to give up when you saw something that made you stiffen.

Kate noticed immediately and pulled away. “Are you okay?”

“Look at this,” you said as you pointed out the red on the side deltoid of her uniform. 

Kate was finished and she cleaned up the supplies, took off her gloves, and threw them away before leaning closer to the computer screen. At first, she couldn’t see what you were talking about, but then her blue eyes widened in recognition. You watched her pale, fearing that she saw the same thing that you were seeing. The sharp edges of the blood red hourglass figure. Everyone knew what it meant and who that was. 

“Oh fuck, dude…” Kate breathed as she slumped back into her chair with nervous eyes.

For once, she didn’t have anything to say. No jokes. No quips. No sassy one-liners. You almost wished that she did joke because it would alleviate the seriousness of the situation.

“Why is the Black Widow trying to kill me???”

“I don’t know,” Kate answered uneasily. “But you’re lucky that you got away at all. She only does covert missions. If you’re on her radar, you’re as good as dead.”

You wanted to snap at Kate, but you couldn’t produce the words. Because as harsh as the words were, she was right. She was bone-chillingly right. The Black Widow wasn’t the average assassin. She went after the worst of the worst marks. She was queen of the assassin underworld. Not just by name but also by reputation too. She never let a mark get away. Until now…

The video was still playing, but you weren’t paying attention. You needed a plan and now. By now, she had to know who you were. Even the cleanest person on the planet couldn’t evade her forever. And you were good, but you weren’t her. You were mentally running through all the resources you had available to you when Kate suddenly gasped. It snapped you out of your chaotic train of thought. You jumped in your seat to look at her, but her attention was glued to the screen. You watched too, you jaw dropping when you saw the Black Widow rip off her mask to reveal… your wife???

Kate was already on her feet, the chair tipping back from the sheer force of her movements. But you were still. Stone still.  You weren’t reacting because what you were seeing wasn’t making any sense to you. You’d seen it with your own two eyes and yet, your brain refused to accept it. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Natasha Romanoff was the Black Widow, and she was trying to kill you. Your wife of nine to ten years was trying to take you out.

Suddenly, it was all making sense. The cold shoulder. The clipped responses. The years of her drifting away from you. It was all adding up. Every interaction. Every rejected show of affection. In all this time, you wondered why, and it looked like you found your answer.

You watched as Natasha reached into her phone to make a call, but the world was already blurring around you. The floor was opening up to swallow you whole, and it felt like you were about to be sick. You could hear Kate’s voice, but it echoed hollowly in your ears. All you could do was sit at the chair and stare vacantly at the screen as you watched the love of your life grab her sniper and walk off camera. 

+++

Natasha was hunched over in a chair with an ice pack on her head and Maria tending to her wound. She was stitching it up now, the needle and thread working through sensitive flesh that she already numbed with a shot. Nat was tired and weary as her hands idly typed on the keyboard. She was watching the footage now, barely paying attention to it when it felt like her heart was beating in her head instead of her chest.  She was covered in dried sweat, smudged dirt, and flaking blood, but she was alive.

“Almost done,” Maria said when she felt Nat shift in her seat. 

She didn’t answer. Fury already knew the situation. He wasn’t displeased, at least, not fully. He knew that Natasha always delivered on a job, but he was not happy that her mark got away at all. She was going to deliver. Not a threat but a promise. Natasha always did.

Nat wasn’t watching the footage, not really. Her fingers were idly messing with the controls but then, she saw something that made her eyes harden. It was a quick clip, a frame where the smoke and explosions weren’t obscuring everything. It wasn’t a lot, but enough when there was finally a close up of the face that she was trying to see. Before this point, you were as good as the claims said you were. Precise. Controlled. Clean. Efficient. You camouflaged yourself so well that if it weren’t for your equipment, Nat wouldn’t know where to look. It seemed like this was a waste of time, watching footage of your fight until she was able to see a clip of your face. That’s when she froze it and leaned in. She squinted her eyes like they could discern between the pixels through sheer force of will. At first, she was confused, her mind refusing to accept the reality in front of her. She was staring at you.

Your face and likeness filled the screen, and for the first time in years, the carefully curated façade that Natasha had created throughout the years finally cracked. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she froze in her seat. She didn’t make any noise, but what she couldn’t say, her body spoke for her. Maria saw the way that she stiffened, and her cutting eyes snapped to the computer screen. Immediately, she leaned over Nat’s shoulder and halted.

“It looks like your wife does have some secrets of her own. She’s the mark that’s evaded us for months?”

Maria was surprised and Nat could hear it in her voice. Even this revelation threw her off. Natasha was still stuck on the fact that this was her target and that she tried to kill you. Maria must have been several steps ahead of her because she grabbed her chair and whipped it around so that Nat faced her. 

“Don’t complicate this,” she said, her eyes hard as she looked into hers. “Don’t make it harder than what it needs to be. She’s your target. Nothing more. Do what needs to be done.”

Natasha didn’t answer. She just stared stoically at Maria, no emotions betraying her or her inner turmoil. As much as she didn’t want this to be the truth. It was. You were her target. Knowing that the target was her wife changed nothing. It didn’t change her mission. It didn’t change what needed to be done. No matter how much Natasha didn’t want any of this to be true, it was, and she needed to separate herself from the situation and carry out her duties.

Maria was finished cleaning Nat’s injury by the time she learned of what you were. So, Nat locked her computer, grabbed her keys, and went home without saying another word. If she was going to do this, Nat was going to have to be meticulous about it. She didn’t know what you knew just yet, and she didn’t want to reveal her cards until she was sure of the situation. This was all going to end tonight, and by morning, Natasha would be a widow.

+++

Natasha was already home by the time you parked in the garage, and you sat in the car while staring into the lion’s den. You didn’t have a plan. You drove home in a trance, your hands shaking even as they gripped the steering wheel. Now that you were home, you were just going to have to wing it. By now, she knew. Natasha had to. She was the best of the best. Of course she knew. It would be naïve to waltz in there and expect anything less. So, you steadied yourself and got out of the car. Your feet carried you to the front door where you opened it to find Natasha waiting for you on the other side. She showered and changed clothes, wearing something expensive, red, and elegant. A dress in the situation it would seem. You showered too, putting on the emergency clothes that you had packed in your office. You were wearing a crisp, white dress shirt, and loose pants. Yes, it was out of place, but no one would suspect anyone dressed in anything expensive to be a suspect of anything criminal. So, you fit the part, pretending to come home after a long day in the office. Natasha was wearing an effortless smile but behind her eyes was something uneasy. For once, her emotions betrayed her, and you took note of it even though you didn’t react to it.

“Hey, baby,” you began, testing the water. You pressed a kiss on her cheek and she let you. “How was your day?”

“Rough,” she answered easily. “A contract fell through and things are a bit hectic in the office.”

You smirked knowing that you were the contract that managed to get away, but you played it off as a reaction to her day. You followed her into the kitchen, taking note of anything that seemed out of the ordinary. So far, nothing was amiss. Everything was as it should be. Marble. Elegance. Ostentatiousness. Nothing was out of place, and you followed Natasha to the dining room. That’s when you saw the food rested on the dinner table. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and bread rolls were all placed meticulously on the table. It all smelled good, and you looked at her in surprise.

“You cooked?”

“It’s a special day,” she answered as she gave you a wine glass and poured red wine into it.

When she stepped away to put the bottle down, you sniffed the fluid wearily, wondering if she would stoop so low as to poison it. That didn’t seem like something the Black Widow would do, but then again, you couldn’t say that you knew your wife as well as you thought that you did. You swallowed thickly, watching as Natasha worked in the kitchen. It was odd seeing her so suddenly domestic. It was a red flag, especially when she hadn’t been like this in a long time. Natasha seemed to sense your hesitation because she suddenly stepped towards you. She smirked and took the wine in your hand, tipping the glass until it met her lips and she took a deep drink. She hummed appreciatively as she continued to the dining room. 

At least you knew that the wine wasn’t spiked. You took a drink, letting the wine sit lightly on your tongue before swallowing. As you sat at the table, you watched as Nat removed a large butcher knife, and despite trying to remain easy and relaxed in her presence, you stiffened. She looked at you, smirking again as she ran the knife against the meat fork. You’re sure that you smiled too though you could feel your heart drop out of your ass.

“I hope that you’re hungry.”

You swallowed and forced another easy smile. “Starving. Work was a killer too.”

“Oh?” Natasha inquired. “How so?”

“I wasn’t able to do the job that I needed to do,” you said as you watched her closely.

 Natasha was carving pieces of meat easily, the knife in her hand slicing through breast like a hot knife through butter. Fucking great. Did she sharpen it?

“Something got in the way.”

At that, Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that whatever it was, it’ll be handled.”

It was then that your smile turned genuine and a tad bit dark. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

She prepared the plates, yours first and then hers, before she sat across from you at the large dining table. She was still playing this role, acting like the devoted wife, you noticed. Well, two can play this game. For a while, you both ate in silence, taking uneasy bites as you watched each other closely. At any moment, someone was going to make the first move, and you watched closely to see if it was going to be Natasha. You watched as she finished off the rest of her wine, and you got up to refill it for her. It wasn’t because you were doting on her, but because you wanted to watch the way that she stiffened when she saw you approach her. You didn’t say anything as you smiled and poured her more wine.

“Thank you, baby,” she said genuinely, her confusion evident in her voice.

You smiled and cocked your head to the side, done with the charade. Instead of placing the bottle back on the table, you held it to the side, away from you and her. Then, you let it go. The bottle raced to the floor, the wine within it sloshing against the glass. It should have smashed on the floor. That’s what should have happened. Red wine should have stained the Persian rug. Glass should have littered the floor. Instead, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, caught the bottle. Her sure hand wrapped around it, grabbing it and holding it before it could shatter on the floor. She froze, her eyes round as she stared at her hand like it betrayed her. Nat realized what happened, but it was too late. Way too late. That was all the confirmation that you needed, because normal people didn’t have reflexes like that, especially assistants, since that’s what she claimed to be in your relationship with her.

Natasha let go of the bottle and you both watched as it crashed to the ground and shattered on the rug. Red stained white and bled through into the hardwood, soaking the varnish and leaving a stain that you didn’t give a fuck about right now. Natasha stared at you, frozen in place, and you stared back. Then, you both snapped into action simultaneously.

“I’ll clean that up,” you said at the same time as when Natasha said:

“I’ll grab a towel.”

You both disappeared down the halls, going in separate directions. Natasha claimed to be getting a towel, but she was cutting through the kitchen. That wasn’t where you kept the towels. You claimed to clean the spill, but all the cleaning supplies were in the kitchen. No. You were moving towards the office because built into the wall was a hidden panel. You pressed against it, the panel hissing to give way for a scanner. You pressed your hand against it, the machinery inside of it whirring as it scanned your handprint. It flashed green and opened a small door beside it. Within it was a simple gun. You assembled it, loaded it, and cocked it.

That’s when you noticed just how quiet it was in the house.

You slowly made your way back to the kitchen, checking corners and dark spots along the way.

“Nat?” you called out when you got back to the kitchen to still find it deserted. The wine bottle was destroyed. The rug was unsalvageable. And she was nowhere to be found. “Baby?”

The cutting sound of tires squealing on cement grabbed your attention. You turned to the window just to see Nat’s car peel out of the garage.

“Fuck!” you swore as you started running. By the time you made it out of the house, she was on the main road and speeding away.

“Son of a bitch!” Nat swore from within her car as she shifted gears.

She was supposed to stand her ground. She was supposed to finish this once and for all, but she fucking choked! Natasha Romanoff never choked. It was a damn embarrassment but seeing you had done something to her. She wasn’t sure what, but it was enough to make her hesitate. Nat shook her head, her frustration high and her adrenaline higher as she stepped on her clutch, shifted gears, and made a sharp right. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to put as much distance between you and her as possible.

You were cutting through the neighbor’s yards and vaulting over fences. You had Natasha in your sight as she made turn after turn without rhyme or reason. You couldn’t let her get away. You would be utterly fucked if you didn’t take care of this. But the truth of the situation was sitting heavily on your mind even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You had every opportunity to do something in the house. A knife to her stomach. A book to the back of her head. You could have grabbed her and snapped her neck. There was never a shortage of ways to kill someone, and you took none of them. What were you planning on doing once you caught up to her? You didn’t know.

And you weren’t going to find out.

You weren’t paying attention to your footing. Up until now, you were climbing and flipping around your obstacles despite how tired and injured you were. Up ahead was a white picket fence, a brutal mockery of the American dream that you would never achieve now, and you went to jump from one of the lower beams of wood. Instead of supporting you, it snapped under your weight. It was supposed to help you vault over the barrier in your way, but you crashed into it. The air whooshed out of your lungs forcefully, your body folding over the fence as you came to a screeching halt. That’s not all that happened. Natasha rounded the corner, her sports car racing down the road towards you when you finally caught up with her. When you crashed into the fence, your finger was curled too much around the trigger. You squeezed it when you crashed into the wood that crushed your chest. Your resulting shot was sent right through Natasha’s windshield.

She slammed on her brakes, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

You heard the loud crack of the shot echo through the night. You also heard Natasha’s tires squeal to a screeching halt. Your ribs hurt, but it didn’t compare to the icy terror that ate through your veins at your blunder. The shot was dangerously close to her head, something that she dodged in time by sheer force of luck. You looked between the gun and Nat, your face twisted in horror at what you’d just done. Yes, the goal was to kill her… you think, but this was by accident. A complete accident. Your ribs ached in a way that you haven’t felt since the Ass Whooping of ’04 ™️, as Kate loved to put it, but you dislodged yourself from the broken fence and climbed under it. You held the gun up and in the air. Your other hand was open with the palm facing out in a state of surrender.

“Whoa, whoa! It was an accident!” you called out to Nat.

Whether she heard you or not was beside the point. Natasha’s face hardened into something murderous and scary. From where you were, hundreds of feet away from her, you could see the moniker of her Black Widow title come to life. It wasn’t hatred you saw. That would make this easier and less terrifying if you were honest. You were seeing a complete personality shift from the woman that you loved. Your wife. Your best friend. She was looking at you like she was painting a target on you through imagination alone. It reminded you of those old Looney Tune cartoons where the bull would lose its mind the moment that it saw red. That’s how Natasha was looking at you.

You could hear her engine rev as you stood frozen in front of her car, bathed by the glow of her headlights. A warning, or a promise, you couldn’t tell.

“Nat, baby, please! I swear that it was an accident.”

She smiled, something twisted, cruel, and very much unkind. You heard her shift into gear, her feet stepping onto the clutch and the gas as the tires began to spin on the asphalt. Her car lurched forward, the smell of burning rubber and smoke an assault on your senses as she raced toward you. You had a split second to react, and you jumped right before her car could splatter you on the road. Your body landed harshly on the windshield, your fingers curling around metal and your gun as you looked at her. You couldn’t even be mad that she was willing to run you over. After all, you almost, and accidentally, shot her.

“Nat, babe, we should really talk about this,” you told her as you were jerked to the side by another violent turn.

Nat pursed her lips, her expression hardened and unyielding. She was swerving now, trying to get you off her car, but you were holding on.

“Come one, Nat!” you tried as you scrambled onto the roof of the car. She clenched her teeth hard enough to shatter her jaw in any other circumstance. “We don’t have to do this!”

At that, she scoffed, the first hint of a smile cracking through her exterior. You couldn’t see it as you pressed yourself against the roof of the car. You needed a way in, and you saw it. The rear window. Using your body weight, you leaned over with your gun and shot into the glass to bust the window out. Once the glass shattered, you twisted your body into the available opening, your body landing on expensive leather and broken glass. Nat looked into her rearview mirror in shock as she watched your back land unceremoniously on the seat. She didn’t think about her next moves. She was already reacting. Her hand threw her door open, and she dived out of her moving vehicle.

“Look!” you exclaimed as you sat up, but the only thing that greeted you was an empty seat, a speeding car, and the driver’s side door wide open despite how fast the car was going.

You looked out of the rear windshield to see Nat roll to a stop on the road and get onto her feet. Her chest rose and fell as she watched her car take you further away from her. You pounded on the windshield, knowing that it was futile, but unable to help yourself.

“Natasha! We need to talk!”

It was the last thing she barely heard from you before she watched her car hit a bump, veer slightly to the left, and crash through a metal guardrail that separated the end of the road from the plummet of forest trees. The car was immediately sent downhill before she heard the first collision of metal against wood. It was a second more before the headlights completely disappeared in the shadows of the forest. Nat needed a plan. Now.

+++

You’re quite surprised that Nat’s stunt didn’t kill you. Maybe being in the back seat saved you, even as her car crashed downhill, flipping, folding, and buckling around the trees in the way. By the time the car settled, you were upside down, the vehicle on its hood while leaves and branches rained down around you. You had a cut on your eyebrow, but that was the extent of your damage. You managed to pull yourself free through one of the windows that didn’t completely collapse. Wiggling and crawling through broken glass and shattered debris was the treacherous part of freeing yourself from Nat’s mangled sports car, but it was doable as you dragged yourself to your feet. You groaned and cracked your neck, taking deep breaths to settle the dizzying feeling that you felt before you climbed back up the hill that had tried valiantly to take you out. Nat wouldn’t go far. You knew that. She would stay where she had the home field advantage, where she knew the map intimately. She went home, and that’s where you were going to go as well.

The mansion was eerily quiet when you entered. It was also very dark. There were too many rooms to check, and Nat could be anywhere. She could be upstairs or down. You were going to have to tread carefully.

You entered through the backyard and crept inside, your footsteps sure and quiet. You knew that no matter what, you were stepping into a trap. Regardless of whether you made noise or not. You were on edge, as prepared as could be. It was how you heard the cock of a shotgun in the silence. It was a room over, but it was warning enough when you immediately dropped to the floor. Just a millisecond later, Natasha shot three gaping holes into the wall, cocking the shotgun each time. Drywall and plaster exploded outwards, raining on you as you covered your head with your arms. Each shot rattled your eardrums. It was loud. Vociferous. Thunderous. Nerve wracking. Each shot got closer to you as you crawled away. More dust imploded inward to pelt you in wood and plaster. Then, there was an eerie silence. There was an additional cock of her shot gun, but another shot never came. Instead, Nat let the dust settle as she stepped further away from the wall.

You froze in place too, your head still tucked beneath your arms for protection like that alone would stop a shotgun shell from ripping you apart. You were breathing hard, your breath puffing into the dust and drywall that caked against sweat and skin. From the next room, you heard a slight chuckle.

“You alive in there, baby?”

You slowly got to your feet, moaning and pretending to be injured as you used one of the holes as a lookout to find Natasha’s location. She was right by the stairs, kneeling and ready with her shotgun pointed in your general direction. You weren’t going to waste time. As she drew closer to the sounds of what she thought was you in pain, you pointed your gun out of the hole and fired several rounds. All of them missed, just like her next shot missed you. You rolled out of the way and into the kitchen, hiding behind the cabinets as you thought about what to do. You needed a distraction, and a big one, especially when Natasha started to fire indiscriminately into the kitchen. Shells tore through the wooden cabinets and decimated the marble countertops. One shot cleaved its way through the refrigerator, splattering food and drinks around the area. Glass shattered. Dishes were destroyed. Nat was leveling the kitchen one shot at a time, and that was when you found your distraction. A gas pipe that led to the stove. It was exposed when Natasha shot the wall and revealed it, and luckily, it was already stripped of its outer protective shell. You grabbed a kitchen knife from one of the nearby drawers and chopped at the rest of the pipe. You needed to expose it as much as you could. The room needed to be flooded with methane.

“You’re shooting is horrendous, baby girl!” you quipped right as you dodged another shot.

Another sure cleave of your knife against the metal created the opening that you needed. You forced it open some more with strong fingers, using your muscles to pry it apart so that natural gas leaked into the open air. When it began to spill into the kitchen, you dropped from sight and crawled away.

“Surely the Black Widow can do better than that!”

Natasha scoffed, her smile spreading as she stepped into the kitchen. Her shoes crunched on broken glass, chips of marble, and wood splinters. She just got a glimpse of your leg disappearing into the next room when she raised her gun and fired once more. But it was that shot that started a chain reaction. The room suddenly erupted into flames, a cloud of destruction billowing up and out. You had to completely drop onto your stomach to keep from getting scorched. Natasha had to drop her gun and jump to the side to avoid getting engulfed.

The blast was strong enough to blow the windows out of the kitchen. Glass shards shot out from the frames, sharp and dangerous, and landed in the yard. Natasha landed in a heap right as the explosion completely swallowed the room and bathed it in fire and light. You felt the flames lick hotly against your back as you covered your head with your arms. The fire died as quickly as it started, and soon, it was just billowing smoke and the smell of potential carbon monoxide poisoning as fresh air rushed into the house.

It was a second before you could move, but when you finally looked up and over, you saw that Nat was right beside you. She realized that as well, her eyes blinking away ash and dirt as they widened. The reality of her situation dawned on her all at once. Nat was unarmed. You, however, had a gun. You snapped into action, lifting your weapon to point it at her, but Natasha was quicker. She twisted her body, her leg kicking out to smack the gun from your hold. It flew across the room, skittering across the floor and out of sight. You didn’t let it deter you as you shook the pain free from your hand. You were both on your feet, facing each other with your hands curled into fists and raised in front of you.

There were no more words and no more quips. You threw the first punch, a punch that Nat dodged before whipping around and landing a kick on your lower back. You felt something crack, a hip, maybe, or something else important, but you pushed through it with a grunt. You kept going, faking another punch that Nat fell for before you landed a gut-wrenching upper cut to her stomach. You heard her breath wheeze forcefully from her lungs as she bent over. You followed it up by grabbing the back of her head and slamming her face into your knee. Not hard to break her nose. Never that, but hard enough to stun her. It worked. Natasha lost her footing before she fell to the ground, her head spinning and her lungs aching for oxygen. You smirked as you wiped your mouth and circled around her a bit, catching your breath and watching her as she shook the pain from her head. You curled your hands into fists again and settled into a stance as you waited.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you encouraged seductively. “Come to daddy.”

Natasha smirked, despite what just happened, and when she was able to gather her bearings, she looked around. In front of her was a small, metal knickknack, probably bought when one of you went on an international job, and some curtains that she’d yet to hang up. She grabbed the knickknack, the thing surprisingly heavy and sturdy in her hold, and she wrapped it in the curtains to make a makeshift sling. You hadn’t seen what she’d done, at least, not in time to dodge it. When she suddenly jumped onto her feet and whipped around, her weapon smashed into your cheek. It didn’t shatter any of your teeth, but the attack was harsh enough to slice your cheek open from within. Pain exploded behind your eyes as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. In the next breath, Nat slung her weapon in an arc and used it to uppercut your jaw. This caused your head to snap back violently enough that your neck cracked. You swore that your vision winked. The feeling of your jaws slamming into each other was enough to make a sharp throb ricochet through the bone. You lost your balance and fell backwards into a dresser behind you. It was solid and unyielding, so you slid off it and settled against the wood heavily as your head spun. Natasha laughed as she stepped up to you and kneeled, her body threatening to straddle your lap if she sank any lower against you.

“Who’s your daddy now, baby girl?” she shot back.

Then, Nat surprised you. She cupped your cheek tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. She caressed you before standing up, moving away from you, and tossing her sling to the side. If you weren’t so dazed, you’d say that this was the gentlest that she’s treated you in a while. Though you couldn’t enjoy it to its fullest extent, it still made you smile as you spat out the pooling blood in your mouth. Already, the gash on your inner cheek was starting to sting.

Natasha was moving, but to where you didn’t know. Not that you were going to let her get far. You struggled to your feet with stars still dancing in your line of vision, and you grabbed her from behind. This caused you both to stumble and fall again. Again, Nat was quicker as she flipped you off her and forced you to land on your back. The air was knocked out of you again and you groaned, but you couldn’t stay dazed for long. Despite your stunned state, you rolled out of the way just as Nat’s heel shot down. Its intended target was your ribcage, but her foot landed forcefully with a crack of her shoe. You grabbed her leg and used your arm to lock it in place against you. Natasha tried to wrench herself free, but you kept an iron grip around her as you tried to think.

When it came to hand-to-hand combat, it was clear that Natasha was superior. In the past, you didn’t take it all that seriously, saying why would you need to worry about it if you had a gun? Well. Look at what was happening to you now. Natasha could easily beat the shit out of you. You’ve heard all the Black Widow stories. If you weren’t immediately shot to death, then she’d beat your ass into submission, and you had a front row seat to how true that was turning out to be. You had to get a gun. Now! You suddenly twisted, throwing Natasha off balance. She crashed onto the ground with a grunt, and you kicked your foot into her ribs. It didn’t slow her down, not as much as you hoped. She was already moving, snapping up to her feet at the same time as you, and you faced each other. This time, Nat was the one to throw the next punch. You blocked it with your arm, pivoting on your feet to smash the bony part of your elbow into the back of her head. Nat swore when she teetered forward. Hell. You did too when pain ricocheted up your arm. You hit your damn funny bone hard enough that you lost all feeling in your arm.

It was embarrassing how Natasha was able to recover quicker than you. She grabbed your arm, the one that you could still feel, and twisted it excruciatingly behind your back in a direction that it was never meant to go. You sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, your eyes widening as Natasha forced you against the nearest wall. Pinned there by your wife’s strength, you struggled to free yourself, your movements doing nothing except exacerbate the pain in your shoulder. You were covered in sweat, dirt, drywall, and soot. Natasha wasn’t any better as she breathed harshly against your neck. That’s when you realized it. She was so close to you, so close that you felt her breath, and so close that you snapped your head back and smashed it against her forehead. Nat gasped, her hands letting you go to grab her face. While the move did its job and freed you from her grip, it did nothing to help any of the other injuries that you sustained to your head. You swayed, surely concussed when a wave of nausea washed over you. The sudden need to vomit overtook you, and you leaned against the same wall that you were pinned to.

Natasha was trying to stay upright, but when she swayed, she opted to lie on the floor before her body made the unilateral decision to make her collapse against her will. She was sprawled out on the rug, her chest rising and falling as she stared, wide-eyed and disoriented at the ceiling.

“Fuck…” you swore as you sagged heavily against the wall and rubbed the back of your head. It was throbbing.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed as she slung an arm lightly across her eyes.

It was unorthodox, but the break was needed. Both of you weren’t as young as you used to be, or else this could have gone on longer. While you kept up with your physical fitness, it was getting harder to deny the truth that you were at the mercy of your body.

The nausea subsided, but your body made room for something else. The aches and pains that you sustained from your fight. Your ears were ringing from the blast in the kitchen. You were hurting in ways that you haven’t felt in a really long time. Natasha was in the same predicament though she was handling her pain better than you were. She was good. She’d train for this. Natasha was the Black Widow, but she was also human. Not even she could think beyond what happened to her body during this ordeal.

Several minutes passed before you looked at Nat. She was slowly sitting up, using her arms to support her upper body and weight as she gazed at you.

“Ready?” you asked as you pushed yourself away from the wall to take your stance.

“No,” she answered truthfully, but she stood up and prepared herself as well.

You attacked first, spinning on your feet as you attempted to land a kick. Natasha caught your leg between her arm and her body. She wrapped her arm around you before she used her other to grab the rest of you. That’s when you found yourself airborne. Natasha hoisted you up and tossed you to the side, albeit not effortlessly. She strained, a grunt exploding from her mouth as she picked you up, whipped you around, and threw you away from her. You weren’t in the air for long, but that didn’t stop the world from tilting sickeningly around you before you landed haphazardly on the unforgiving ground. Natasha was already approaching you, her steps sure though she was still rubbing her ribs. She meant to kick you, but you reached out, grabbing the closest thing to you to protect yourself. In your hands was a throw pillow, one that was, somehow, undamaged from the fight. Nat’s kick connected with cotton and stuffing, and you used one of your legs to kick her away from you. She lost her balance, landing heavily on one knee, the bones thudding against the hardwood floor. You sat up, throwing the pillow at her while making a quick escape.

Natasha pursued you, her breaths heated and exhausted as she watched you run back towards the kitchen. She wondered what it was that you were after, then, she remembered. Your gun. She kicked it away from you near the kitchen, and if that was the case, then she could get her shotgun that she was forced to drop in the explosion.

You found your weapon first, cocking it to make sure that it was loaded before you turned around. Only to stare at a barrel aimed directly at your chest. Nat was already there, the shotgun in her hands and aimed at you as she stared at you. You were close enough to feel steel pressing against you, just as Natasha was close enough that she could feel your heavy breaths brush against her face. Your gun was aimed at her as well, the nozzle just mere inches from pressing into her. It was quiet, saved from the laborious breathing that filled the air. Natasha was so close to you. Close to you in a way that you hadn’t felt in so long. Despite this being a fight, this was intimate. The closeness. The vulnerability. Knowing that you held her life in your hands just as she held yours. One pull of the trigger and it could be over for you or for her. Fight or flight stole your ability to think straight. Discovering that your wife was an Avenger was like suddenly discovering that gravity was fake. It was so much to accept and process at one time. But here and now, and in this moment, you could think straight. You met her eyes, her intense stare focused on you, and you realized something.

It was the same eyes that you fell in love with. The same forest green. The same intensity. The same sharpness. Everything that drew you into her. All Natasha. It made you realize something in that moment while you were beating each other’s asses. It made you realize that the love that you had for her wasn’t gone. It was muted. Hidden and smothered behind years of lies and deceit, never being able to be yourself around her because you had to hide a huge chunk of who and what you were from her. Despite the blood flooding your mouth, and the hurt ribs, and the sore jaw, and the fact that she drove her car off the road with you still in it, something was becoming increasingly clear. You still very much loved her.

“You know what I thought when I first saw you?”

Nat blinked, completely taken aback by the change in topic. She didn’t drop her guard or the shotgun, but she did raise her eyebrow in intrigue. “What?”

You got this faraway look in your eye as you reminisced about what it was like to see her in Paris. You surprised yourself by smiling.

“Holy shit,” you whispered as you echoed your first thoughts about her. “This is the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen.”

Natasha cocked her head to the side. She was slightly hunched over, her ribs protesting from the kicks you landed on them just moments before. She was covered in soot and drywall. Her hair was a mess of sweat and tangles. Her clothes had been the true casualty of your fight. The red color of them was stained, and the clothing was ripped, but she was still so beautiful and breathtaking. Even after you put her through hell. You giggled again, and you wondered if you hit your head too hard during the fight, or if this was still the effect that Nat was having on you even after all these years.

“God, I hope she’s gay,” you finished.

That one caused Natasha to laugh. Fully laugh. She winced at what it did to her ribs, but the smile was so genuine. It felt like you hadn’t seen it in years, and even after all this time, it was still the very thing that made your world spin. You were still facing each other, still had your guns pointed at each other, but the tension had bled away to make room for a lightness that you missed so fucking much. Natasha’s smile slowly fell away when she remembered where she was, who she was fighting, and what led to this moment.

“Are we really doing this?” she asked.

Surprisingly, you laughed, the sound leaving you in choppy bursts. Despite how easily it fell from your lips, it was devoid of any humor. You don’t even know why you did it, but it was already out of your mouth and sitting heavily in the air. You could feel tears flooding your eyes at the impossible choice that was before you. Because when you really broke it down to what it was, to the bare amount of information that you needed to understand what was going to happen, it wasn’t a choice. Not really. You had to kill Natasha who was your wife, the love of your life, and your best friend. It was that or be burned by your agency. And if you really considered it, you weren’t bound by duty. Not in the slightest. You didn’t give a fuck about your job like that. The harrowing truth was that someone was going to die by tomorrow, and the choice was either you or her.

You swallowed thickly, the tears that you were trying to fight still spilling down your cheeks. You lowered your gun until you eventually let it fall to the floor. The metal clattered loudly, but you didn’t care. Your eyes were still on Natasha Romanoff.

“I can’t do it,” you whispered. “I can’t.”

You stepped forward until you felt the nozzle of her gun dig into your chest, the metal cold and biting.

“I can’t do it, Nat. I never could, and I won’t. Do what you have to do. Just know that I love you and I always have.”

Nat froze, her eyes widening when she saw you ready to sacrifice yourself for her. It made her hesitate, the adrenaline flushing from her system to make room for something else that was making her heart beat frantically in her chest. The admission of your love broke her because she realized that she couldn’t do it either. She had every opportunity to take you out long before she reached this point. Before she was pointing a gun at her wife. She meant everything that she said to Maria. She loved you irrevocably. This wasn’t going to change anything, and the moment she realized that was the moment she lowered the gun and set it down on the ground. In the next, her lips were pressed against yours.

It didn’t matter how much it hurt when you felt Nat kiss the life out of you. Your body protested, but you didn’t give a damn because Natasha was kissing you. You groaned, letting her press you against the wall with her weight while her hands roamed your body. This was what you needed. You needed the release, the expression of love, and the need to show her that you loved her so, so much. Nat was kissing you hungrily, losing herself to the feeling of you. Her hands began to tug at your shirt, her desperation clear in her movements. You let her rip open your shirt, the buttons popping off under her strength as your hands tugged up her dress until the tattered material was bunched in your grip.

Your kisses were hungry and depraved. When Nat pulled away to kiss your neck, you felt teeth scrape your skin. You hissed, but not in pain. You were aching for her, pushing her away from you only to grab her hand and pull her upstairs to the bedroom. It was the cleanest part of the house. The first floor was completely leveled thanks to your fight, and when you made love to your wife, you wanted nothing in the way. You pulled Nat into the bathroom, turning on the water in the walk-in shower. Soon, steam began to fill the bathroom as you ripped Nat’s dress off her body. Bruises were already beginning to mar her skin. Red and purple danced across her, and as gently as possible, you kissed the area, uncaring of the dirt that layered her skin. You were already kneeling at her feet, your knees protesting against the tiled floor, but it wasn’t going to stop you. Your hands grabbed her underwear and ripped the garment down her legs, tossing it over your shoulder the moment it was off.

Immediately, your tongue sank into the heated desire of her pussy, and Nat groaned as she tangled her fingers into your hair. You were gentle but hurried, your mouth latching on to her clit while your hands palmed at her ass to keep her pressed against your face. You were buried in her, uncaring of oxygen as you drank her down. It was a taste that you missed, gluttony filling you to the brim as arousal and spit began to drip down your chin and neck. As much as it felt so fucking good, and as much as Nat wanted you down there until her legs couldn’t take it anymore, she had other things on her mind. Using her grip on your hair, she pulled you away from her. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused as your chest heaved. Already, so much of her was smudged across your chin and cheeks. It was a beautiful sight, but one that Nat would have to revel in later.

She helped you to your feet and resumed undressing you hurriedly. Like you, she caressed and kissed all the parts of you that she hurt. Your chest. Your stomach. Especially your head. You didn’t protest, and watching her take care of you was making your legs shake. When you were as naked as she was, Nat pulled you into the shower with her. She made quick work of cleaning you and herself, washing off the dirt and grime from downstairs. The smell of soap filled the air as she cleaned and kissed you, whispering words to you that made you nibble your lip in anticipation.

When she was done, and you were both cleaned, Nat pulled you out of the shower. She dried off while you did the same, the towels abandoned on the floor in haste.

“Bed. Now,” Nat commanded, her voice dark and feral with want.

You were on the mattress before the strap was even secured to her hips. The toy was lubed in a blink of an eye, and Nat was in between your legs with her lips kissing you messily on your neck. Your hands were already clawing at her back as she thrusted her hips gently. The toy parted your center, the thick and textured red silicone brushing against your soaked core and your sensitive clit.

“Be loud for me, sweetheart,” Nat breathed into your ear as she positioned herself. “I need to hear you.”

You were just about to nod, but she was already pushing inside. The stretch was glorious. It burned and ached, the intrusion something that you hadn’t felt in a while but missed all the same. Natasha worked her cock into you using shallow thrusts, taking her time despite wanting nothing more than to devour you whole. You appreciated her care, pulling her down into a sloppy kiss as she thrusted into you until her hips met yours. You were so fucking full. Her strap pressed against all those familiar spots that already had you panting and holding on to her. Your nails dug into her back while you whimpered. Nat smiled, her gaze soft and full of love. She was still gentle, but forceful, with her movements. When she pulled out, it was until nothing but the tip was still nestled in you, the emptiness jarring enough that you opened your mouth to protest. But what came out when she fucked her cock back into you weren’t words. You cried out in ecstasy, your head digging into the pillow as pleasure detonated within you. It exposed your neck to her, and she wasted no time covering it in marks while her hips drove into yours at an intensity that was insane. Natasha wasn’t fast. She never believed in speed. She loved to exercise power, fucking into that one spot inside of you so thoroughly that tears filled your eyes. Your moans of pleasure filled the room along with the wet squelches of your desire.

“Fuck yes,” she growled into your ear while her hands twisted themselves into the sheets for stability. “That’s it, baby girl.”

Her words were driving you wild. Her thrusts were driving you crazy. It was all so much, the stimulation teetering into something so strong and profound that you weren’t sure that you were ready for it. You could feel it now. The pleasure was licking a delicious trail of heat and energy up and down your body. The orgasm was growing in your stomach with every strong slap of her hips. The bed creaked. The headboard knocked against the wall. Your moans were loud and wanton, your nails biting into Nat’s back. You were never this loud during sex, but Nat was pulling it out of you against your will.

“I love you so fucking much,” Nat whispered into your neck. Her face was buried there, her nose breathing you in while she rocked your body into oblivion. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You were too far gone. There was much to atone for. The lies. The fighting. And everything else in between. There was so much to make right, and that was something that you would focus on in the future. Right now? With your mind a jumbled mess of sex, pleasure, and Natasha? There was only one thing that you could focus on. Your love for her. It spilled out of you just as your climax reached a threshold.

“Fuck!” you cried out. “I love you! I love you! I love you!”

You could do nothing but chant it while your orgasm ripped through you. Nat felt you clench around her strap, and she moaned along with you. She loved this. She loved seeing this. She missed being the reason why you were like this. She held you tighter, fucking you through an orgasm so strong that it stole your breath and made the tears run down your cheeks. She didn’t stop when you clenched around her. She prolonged everything even when she felt your come coat her in a tiny burst of scorching fluid. It was the hottest thing that Nat’s seen in a while, watching you make a mess on her as she fucked as much as she could out of you. It was enough to coat the toy and her thighs, the wet, sinful passes of silicone into your body rivaling your moans and her grunts.

It took a moment to come back into your body, but Natasha was there, stilling her movements when she heard you take a deep breath. She kissed you, softly, deeply, consuming you in a way that made you feel loved, held, and cared for. When she pulled away, she leaned her head against yours, breathing you in while she closed her eyes. There was so much that she needed to say, but this was enough. The closeness. The quiet. Feeling you come back to your body while your heart settled in your chest. There was a small wet patch in the sheets, one that was rapidly cooling beneath you, but whether you knew that it was there, you weren’t reacting to it. Nat didn’t care either, more than eager to let your come soak into her skin if that meant she could hold you closer.

Nat didn’t pull out. She was more than content to lay on top of you, forcing you to cock warm her as she held you close. You didn’t mind either when you held her close and combed your fingers through her hair. She was quiet, her eyes closed as she soaked in the moment with you. You were floating, your post coital bliss turning your muscles into jello as you let yourself melt into the bed.

“Defect,” Natasha said suddenly.

“What?”

“Defect,” she reiterated. “Come to SHIELD and become an agent there.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Hasn’t your boss been trying to kill me for years?”

Nat shrugged. “Yes, but once he learns of the situation, he’ll realize that there’s value in keeping you alive and you working for him. He’d be stupid not to. He knows your stats and practically has your kill score memorized. You’re the best of the best.”

“I’m not the Black Widow,” you said skeptically as you cupped Nat’s cheek. At that, she smiled and leaned into your touch.

“No, but you are her wife. A wife that she is particularly protective of, may I add. I would sooner haze SHIELD to the ground than let you go.”

That made you laugh, and her eyes twinkled as she took in your smile and your mirth.

“If you can get me there in one piece, then it sounds like a plan.”

Your agency will be gunning for you at any moment. You were sure that they already put a hit out on you for failing to clean up the mess that was your mission. You weren’t concerned, and neither was Natasha. She was sitting up, her hips already pressed against yours as she sat back onto her knees. Her hands grabbed your thighs and spread your legs wider as she began to roll her hips. Your eyes widened as a ripple of pleasure danced through your body.

“I’ll get you wherever you need to go, baby,” she husked, her voice low and full of desire. “But enough of that. I have so much time to make up for.”

It was your only warning before she thrusted into you again, her eyes darkening as she drank you in. Her hands held you close to her, her fingers digging into the fleshy parts of your ass as she used her momentum to fuck you onto her strap. You couldn’t stop the moan, some slight sensitivity making you clench and suck her in deeper.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” she whispered to you. She was smiling, full and deep as she held you impossibly closer.

“I-” you tried, but you choked on a gasp, one caused by the woman who was now pounding into you. “Shit...I love you too. So, so much.”

[huesohnobro]

This is fucking peak I adore your brain

[huesohnobro]

Earthly Desires

Natasha Romanoff x reader Bridgerton AU

Chapter 1: And Despite My Frustrations, He Must Need Me

Bridgerton AU Fanfiction wherein the reader poses as a man in society in order to keep her family and her house both safe and in society, and yet despite this finds herself both entranced by and yet too afraid to interact with Natasha for the fear of what it may mean for them.

Slowburn with eventual smut if all goes to plan! Partially inspired by Shakespeare's the Twelfth night and how I feel when listening to Pierce the Veil!

7.8k Words

The air was sweet,  perfumed with flowers long in bloom and the warm breeze that carried across the Ton. Hoof beats, foot falls, and wheels across cobble could be heard all around, manors surrounded by bustling maids and manservants, as well as families returning from winter affairs. All was right as the carriage arrived at the front of your family’s summer home, the promises of excitement and courtship hung heavy in the air as you adjusted the cuffs of your tailcoat. Your sister, Selina, beamed up at you, for finally at the age of ten and eight she was ready to be presented to the rest of society, a privilege you had lead your other siblings through deftly as the Lord of your great house. Selina’s eyes twinkled with warmth as she took your hand into hers, a gentle squeeze pressed into your skin as she buzzed with both excitement and something deeper, something hidden. 

“If you’ll allow me.. I’d like to relish these last few moments with my sister before she disappears for the season.”

You huffed out a small chuckle, eyes filled with mirth as you spoke.

“I do not disappear, I just gain a new set of responsibilities, you know this.”

She looks out the window, shaking her head as the carriage draws to a stop, a deep breath fills her chest and makes itself home within her.

“Your body may not disappear but.. Part of your spirit does when you become my dear brother. I do so wish you could just stay my sister a touch longer.”

Your eyes scanned the length of her side profile, brows furrowing as you tried to read her now deepened expression

“Do you.. Love me less as your brother..?” 

A touch of hurt entered your tone, this was part of who you had become as much as anything else was, it had been many years since you were anyone else during the season of the sun. Being a man for you held the same comforts as being a woman, though different anxieties, different risks. 

Selina shook her head rapidly and took your hands into hers once more, placing them together on your knees. 

“Of course not, I simply wish you did not have to pretend to be someone different yet similar for the Ton to accept you… to accept us.”

Acceptance was hard won in the Queens land, your sister was right to be anxious for it, especially now that she would officially make her entrance into society. Few families had it, and many yearned for the favor of it, the favor of their grand Queen. Favor earned protections that family alone could not gain, as well as duties and consequences… You had known this from a young age, it was what drove you to become the person you are today.

As the eldest it was your duty to protect your family, rather than simply yourself, and so you would face whatever challenges may come this year as you had since you were one and five: boldly and head on. 

You would struggle however necessary if it meant your sisters could live the life you no longer had the opportunity of.

The carriage door opened with a rush of sunlight, the brick face of your manor greeting the two of you as kindly as the manservant who held his hand out to help down your younger counterpart. The servants had tended to the space well during your absence, likely due to the maintained presence of your second sister and her husband in the abode. You remember how happy Lucia was when she was wed, you remembered what a grand affair you and the grooms family had made their union-

You remember how anxious it had made you.. For being family had made you privy to his secrets, and he privy to yours. 

He was gracious, accepting of it, though perturbed by the burden you had deigned to carry on solely your now squared shoulders.You remember his hearty laugh when he realized the trickery of it all, his eyes widening when he realised he too in all of his “intelligence and wisdom” had been fooled. The two of you had spoken of it at length following the wedding and the reveal, over brandy and cigars and alongside his now beloved wife.

He was tickled by the sight of you and his wife, both with their hair down, though only one in a tailcoat that matched his. He had offered to take the burden from you, to become the lord of the house in your stead, to allow you to live as a lady fully, to court and marry and fret no longer about business and appearances and allegiances. 

Both you and Lucia had laughed in his face that night, she knew how dearly you held your position. It was not every day that a woman, whether in secret or in the view of the public, held such power.

You knew that your time as a lord was dear to you for other reasons though, for it is improper.. Sinful even, for a woman to speak to another Lady in the salacious manner that manhood afforded you.

Even if you were “fully” a lady, as your “fellow” man suggested to you, you’d never wed. You’d never be fully happy without power in your hands and the opportunity to have a woman at your side if just for one night.

You’d just be some spinster on a shelf, and that was no life for you to live.

The house of Lord Garrington, Lucia’s beloved, was in full bloom now that Selina and you had arrived. Though the house was technically the manor of your name, and therefore yours to upkeep and reside in permanently, you had decided that the home should belong to the newly-wed couple when you were gone. It was helpful to have Lord Garrington as an ally, now you only had to do two thirds as much paperwork as before. Lucia’s taste in men truly was a blessing for the house as much as your continued prosperity and livelihood was, you’d have to remember to commend her yet again in her love-match one of these days. Instead Selina and you walked towards the engraved oaken door, the work of art swinging open without fanfare as twinkling brown eyes met the pair of you, a hearty laugh ringing out into the air. Lord Garrington stood before you, smiles about as you clasped his rough-worn hand into your own.

“M’Lord it has been far too long, is that a hint of stubble I see on your chin?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and clapping a hand down onto his shoulder, Selina running off to find her beloved Lucia. 

“Dearest brother, the day I grow a stubble is the day that you finally beat me in cards. It shan't happen without considerable factors being influenced.”

“Even so, it is good to have you back in our home, the walls have missed you, as has my dear wife,” Garrington’s shoulder bumped yours as he lead you inside and towards the salon where the girls were undoubtedly chatting, “Though if you ask her she’s been so preoccupied with the matter of who the newest additions to the Ton are that she wouldn’t dare think of your long carriage ride to stay with us.”

Your brows furrowed once more, new people in the Ton meant new chatter yes, but also a new house to learn and eventually conduct business with or against. You would have to do your best to not partake in gossip, for those were the dealings of Ladies.

“May I ask if this family has a name, or shall I find out on my own by hunting for it on the dancefloor of the innaugural ball?”

Your tone was slightly sarcastic as you spoke, your voice taking on a deeper intonation than how you had spoken in the carriage. Garrington, ever the gentleman, pretended not to notice the change, instead stopping in front of the salon door before opening it. 

“Romanova, I believe. I have heard rumors that it is a woman and her sister sent here from Russia in order to find a suitor for the younger of the two. The older is a spinster, quite the serious one if word serves me correctly.”

You hummed, both in curiosity and understanding.

“Well then, let us hope she is serious enough to make a sensible deal for the betterment of both of our businesses.”

Garrington's brow raised, his arms crossed over his chest. “ Do you recognize their name?”

“Of course I do, but more importantly I recognize the opportunity to expand out dealings into the east should the Lady of the house be so kind.”

You’d have to get your proposal together, as well as figure out which business would suit Russian sensibilities the best, but first, it was time to re-unite with your sister.

Natalia Romanova is many things: the creme de la creme of nobility in her home land, famed for her cold wit and unnerving countenance, and beloved daughter to Melina and Alexei, long may they rule their house. She is a calculating woman who can wrap many around her finger, and have even more swear their allegiance to her for simply the chance to court her.

She is also deeply unimpressed by both England and its men, as she is with all other lands and all other men. 

Men were often boorish, self obsessed creatures with the sole goal of siring a son to take over their work when they inevitably passed far too early from their unruly life-styles. Natasha had no interest in such trivial matters as child-rearing, not when she had a sister to raise and strategic bonds to make for the betterment of her house and its affairs. 

Her mother had lamented her spurning of men, bemoaned the way she had cast them aside in all manners outside of business, however Natalia relished her status as a “spinster”. 

Being on the shelf granted Natasha a sort of social freedom seldom afforded to the other ladies of the Ton, and she intended on using that freedom to her utmost advantage this season.

It would be Yelena’s first outing in the English-style social scene, something Natasha had not experienced since she was much smaller. 

Now though, at twenty and eight, she was no longer in the limelight, instead she could rest comfortably as her sister’s chaperone.

What a beautiful thing it is, to be at your sister’s side. What a beautiful opportunity of which has been gifted to Natalia, to protect her beloved Yelena from the same aggression and disrespect that was afforded to her in younger times. She could only hope her sister was gracious enough to see her chaperone duties as necessary in the same way. 

For now, Yelena and her would be preoccupied with adjusting to the temporary English way of life, and more presently the settling of both selves and possessions into the newest addition to their stock portfolio. There were paintings to hang, maids to give station to, manservants to assign to various horses, and most anxiety inducing of all: there would inevitably be guests to host.

House Romanova-Belova was expected to be a gleaming one: with the military successes of father Alexi, as well as their noble country’s political ties to the Queen’s beloved Prussia, many things were likely to be expected. A marriage into their house was an advantageous one for any young suitor, the ladies of the house knew this well, however Natalia intended to capitalize upon it. 

To do so meant to take guests and meetings as soon as possible, an attempt to seem warmer than both their reputations and their demeanors may lead others to believe, a controlled glimpse of imperfection in order to lull passer-throughs into a false sense of security. Such a philosophy is what lead Natalia to this moment, sitting before a man she had never seen before and, frankly, never wished to see again. He droned endlessly about seemingly nothing, all in a vain attempt to convince Natalia he was worthy of catching a glimpse of her sister. She could feel the seconds ticking by and her eyes falsely rolling back into her head with every blink she stole, the wafting steam from her cooling tea seemingly more free than she was in this moment. On and on he droned until, seemingly, even God had had enough of his incessant noise. A manservant, clad in rich scarlet walked forward into the salon, a golden platter holding a small, stamped envelope with her name written in lush black ink. The reprieve allowed for the red-head to send away her guest, making up some false Russian superstition about guests and mail, bending the wannabe suitor’s lack of cultural knowledge to her will. 

She ripped open the paper in the same way a cat would a cheap toy, lazily but with sharp eyes. The paper was crisp and smooth under her digits, the flowery writing detailing a ball for herself and her debutante to attend, the very first of the season. Themed and planned to perfection, to miss the first ball would be to throw oneself into the ocean with no life-preserving technology. No, the only ocean Natasha desired to wade through was that of the suitors that would inevitably want to dance and speak with Yelena, a fate that would be all but ensured by her attire.

A trip to the mademoiselle would take care of the problem of attire, this was certain. Natalia was far more concerned with the matter of social knowledge, of knowing who was who and what they may be involved in, and especially whether these involvements were public or more… taboo. Knowledge was power, and the red-head’s father had taught her to grasp any and all power that came her way, naturally or otherwise. Natalia had known the information she desired would not simply be the talk of the Ton, no, she needed a more… official source. 

A visit to the queen was customary when a family of nobility and station such as hers moved into her lands, a formal meeting usually that could prove to be advantageous if Her Majesty approved of your person. Natalia had been pushing the meeting back as far as she could, desiring to settle into her new homefront and coach Yelena on English sociability a bit before coming before the throne. 

Natasha would push back no longer, there was personal stake in such an affair now, as well as mutual personal gain for both parties involved.

What a beautiful thing it was for Natasha: one of many, all to be used to her advantage. 

The palace was as grand as it was wide, a veritable oasis of both luxury and soft power being flexed at every opportunity, a place as rich as it was empty, as looming as it was opulent. In a strange way it reminded Natalia of home, the decadence and power radiating from the architecture she used to dance around as a little girl. To say they were of the same magnificence would have been a personal affront to the woman, but as she stood before the red brick surrounded by the cries of animals as foreign to this land as herself, she understood briefly why the English found themself once grand enough to own the world. As the manservants led her through the foyer into the Queen’s personal salon, Natalia couldn’t help but notice the level of care and detail placed into every inch of the royal abode. Careful marbling, hand carved pillars, portraits painted with what could be assumed to be irreplaceable tints, such luxury surrounded the noble figurehead: it made it all the stranger to Natalia that with a home such as this one, the queen was so preoccupied with the social scene of the Ton which she ruled over. 

When Natalia was brought before the Queen, she reacted as anyone would when being confronted by something beautiful and yet subtly dangerous: a loss of breath, the sudden swimming of the thoughts in her head, a violent curiosity as to how soft the fabric of her silken dress was, and how much softer was the skin below?

Such thoughts would be considered a crime should they be heard, such a realization was not uncommon for Natalia when presented with a beautiful woman. 

The Queen’s smile was easy as the red-head entered, watching as Natalia curtseyed low as was customary in the court. When Natalia was announced, the manservant proudly crying out her name as both God and her ancestors intended, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dismay at the butcher’s cut of a pronunciation from the man. The court, despite the Queen’s beloved family in Prussia, was not practiced in the language of her home.

When Queen Charlotte spoke, it felt as if the air in the room was forced into a standing position, every atom of every molecule arranging themselves into perfect form so as to not displease her majesty. 

“Natalia, a powerful name, as beautiful as that is I can see the intricacies of it causing issues within society.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she rose from her bowed position, hands folded neatly before her abdomen as she was trained to do, schooling her features into the picture of grace. Her accent was thick as she spoke, a song of her origin, hiding the indignation in her words.

“And what do you suppose I should do, your majesty? I was born with this name, I do not wish to change it, that would be to change who I am to both you and myself.”

The grand woman before her, hair done perfectly, skin painted like that of a work from the renaissance, seemed to falter. It was for only the slightest of moments, a gleaming and fleeting flash of empathy in her irises. It did not meet the whole of her face, it barely swirled through the whole of her eyes, but for that fleeting pause Natalia knew that the matter was one of genuine empathy, and deeper yet one of familiarity. 

The Queen’s, or perhaps simply just Charlotte’s, voice rang true as she spoke next.

“It will not be a change in any way that is permanent, only an adaptation. You will do it for my sake, as well as my sanity, for I cannot condone the disrespect of such a prestigious guest while in my presence. I would like to grace you with a name for while you are here, one of the crown, one of the Lord should you take it.” 

Natalia’s fingers twitched in their own grip, this was a key matter of social survival and yet it grated against her.

“I am baptized under my name, the Lord has already graced me as who I am, as who I have been for all of my time on his earth.”

“Well, if you will not take the name then perhaps you are not as prudent as your family history has led me to believe.”

The Queen’s words cut deep, as if she knew exactly which strings to pluck in order to play the Russian like one of her orchestra’s many fine instruments.

Her next ones would be the final word on the matter of the Russian’s name, damning and blessing all at once.

“You will go by Natasha when in England and her territories, and now that I have decreed it as so, I pray you are as intelligent as rumor leads me to believe.” 

The woman upon the throne smiled easily down at the red-head, changing the subject so deftly after her mandate that any room for questioning or complaint was crushed in an instant.

“Onto more pressing matters, your father recently defeated Napoleon and his armies, yes?”

Defeated was a rather nice way to put it, Napoleon was humiliated, his men were decimated, woefully unprepared for the conditions of her home.

“Yes, decisively. Its truly such a shame that so many people had to die solely because of the hubris of of man. It pained my father to burn the earth of our home, but the results of such an affront were worth more than a hundred fires.”

A strange sense of pride welled up in Natasha’s chest as she spoke of the invasion and how her father’s men had handled it, of the plague and the starvation that was subjected upon their enemies. A valuable lesson, perhaps many, could be found within the suffering of those months. Many lessons were found in suffering, this Natasha knew well. She wondered what England would take from her next to remind her of such a thing.

The queen smirked yet again, gesturing for a man servant to fetch her something only they knew of from the wordless exchange.

“Yes, short men often have such intolerably large egos. I am glad that your country could put at least one into his place. I cannot wait to see how many more men you and your people sort out”

Natasha’s chest warmed at the sentiment, once again for the briefest of moments finding a sort of kinship within the regal woman before her.

“Perhaps you would do me the kindness of allowing me to know just what men here in your Ton require sorting,” Natasha’s eyes once again took a cat-like quality to them, her accent coating each word in balm as they were sent out, “so I may avoid them, of course.” 

The suggestion made the queen chuckle, and as simply as that the two ladies were in a form of kahoots with each other, each privy to a joke that only the other knew existed.

“Well, you certainly cannot avoid them all my dear, but if you were to try here is what I would tell you…”

And so the two spoke, and they laughed gently, plotted boldly, until it was time for the lady of house Romanova-Belova to take her leave in preparation for future festivities.

As you lead your sister into the ballroom, you couldn’t help but imagine her as one of the characters in the fairytales you used to read her as a small child. The way the satin folds and lace detailing shimmered and moved as though they were made of water, black and silver waves and crests surrounding her body and enchanting passerby, it was simply magical. Selina deserved as much, she had prepared painstakingly for this very moment, for this very debut, and you had been at her side for all of her teachings. Watching her take to the floor was like watching a swan glide upon the water for the first time in a long while: graceful yet nervous, unaware of what the unexplored depths may hold for her. Your own outfit was tailored to match hers, an exercise in both house synergy and making it easy for your darling sister to find you within the throng of people. Silver details on your petticoat matched a silver ascot and jewelry, glimmering with a sense of daring beneath the light of the chandelier against the abyss of your jacket and the expanse of your skin. The two of you both stuck out in the bright summer decor, spots of deep soil in a veritable garden of roses and lillies and people hoping to be seen and selected to rise from a flower to the status of a gem. Your hand stayed firmly and comfortingly rested upon the small of Selina’s back, ushering her through the crowd in order to better scope the scene. You wanted to ensure someone caught her eye, rather than the other way around, for your sister was the prize to be won in your mind. You had taken painstaking efforts to ensure Selina thought of herself in a similar manner, her confidence and self worth was more important to you than what the others may whisper about her.

Let them talk of her easy smile, of the way she glides seamlessly along the maarbeled flooring, let them whisper of her sharp wit and burning eyes, of the challenge yet glory and nobility she presents with simply a breath.

Let them all whisper, let the fair Lady Whistledown write of your esteemed house in her column, it would matter not in the end. 

Selina spoke for herself, she walked for herself, danced for herself, and most of all courted for herself, all under your watchful eye. 

Your eyes met many in the crowd, some filled with admiration, some with bane no doubt fueled by the boisterous and outspoken nature of your family, or perhaps fueled by the successes your house held in other fields. As you pushed your hair back from your temple, you thought of the men who would come to you tonight all but clamoring for the opportunity to collude with you in the market. You thought of their hungry smiles and their sweetened words, you remembered the challenge they presented, the desire to rid yourself of them all as they descended like vultures upon your estate and dealings. Men were such hungry creatures, ever hunting and consuming and leaving behind naught but bones and marrow for the rest of the people around them to feed upon. You wondered how similar you become to them in times such as these, how your face changed and your shoulders squared in denial or acceptance as these men both young and old approached your sister and yourself. You wondered how they mentally prayed for the opportunuity to approach when you left, to speak with you relations alone and away from her eagle-eyed chaperone. 

You wondered if you truly saw all of man, or if you only knew what you did because of how they relaxed when they believed no ladies were around to hear their rakish tales and unscrupulous habits.

“Brother, must you follow me so closely, I fear you are scaring away the eligible and desirable alike.” 

Selina’s complaint was spoken with a soft giggle laced within, an inside joke between the two of you coming alive as the orchestra swelled. 

“I’m afraid I must, dearest sister of mine, or else some old man may come to speak to you of his hunting trips or some other thrilling affair of his. Perhaps the Duke of Kent?”

You watched as her face soured at the idea, a shrinking in worthy of a portrait before she lightly shoved your shoulder, stepping out of your reach and rocking back and forth upon her heeled toes as she spoke.

“Do you not have business to attend to? Or perhaps some old man of your own to be entertained by? I’m sure there is plenty to be spoken of on the terrace.”

You scoffed, your eye contact accusatory as you stared at your baby sister, arms crossing in front of your bound and coated chest as a brow raised towards your hairline. 

“And why, pray tell, do you know of such conversations?”

Selina’s face paled at your insinuation, your line of questioning being broken by luck, or perhaps God, as a young man approached and stole both of your attentions. He bowed deep before the lady of the house, sparkling eyes looking up at her as he asked for the chance to be added to her dance card. 

You had recognized the young man, his family was one of the many that benefitted from your trade business, from your ships and cargo, they had delighted in the products that you had brought up from both the east and the south. He had a good head on his shoulders, a quality that was rare in men of his age. Outside of his intelligence, the man’s family dealt in a business you had a great deal of respect for, as their house produced some of the finest thoroughbred’s you had ever seen. 

Selina had a peculiar look on her face as he flirted coyly at her, one could confuse it for being a cross between confusion and contempt should they not look at the deeper picture. When she looked to you, you nodded firmly, a warm smile planted on your face as the black and silver of her dress swished around the rich blue of his coats, gloved hands meeting with and being pulled to dance by lively and warm skin. 

After Selina went to the dancefloor, the rest of the ball became rather routine: bow to the ladies as they walked by, joke softly with the mothers toting around their young ones in the hopes of being seen by someone grand and marrigeable, exchange sips of brandy and deep chested laughs with the men of status who deigned to try their romantic luck for what felt to them to be the hundredth time. Everything was just so, the music, the food, the conversation, all perfectly normal.

Then you caught a flash of red hair in the light of the crystal chandelier, and suddenly it felt as though all of time had frozen. 

Porcelain skin glowed dewily beneath the light, verdant eyes lay piqued beneath dark yet precise makeup, lashes cuaffed upward as if to draw you in. Blood red silks draped around a lithe body, deep black designs trailing down the long skirts of her dress and hemming her neckline. Flaming locks were braided back expertly, bedecked with gold and black jewelry that matched what glinted on her arms and at her neck. You were tantalized with the thought of the jewelry against her chest, of the feeling of cool metal pressed against your back or your palms, of the promise of smooth skin expanded upon gentle sinew, the kind that surely could only be built by dancing. She walked with a poise that forced the gaze to follow, shoulders and head standing still as if she was floating across the ballroom floor. She was, in a word, enchanting. 

Her gaze was sharp as her eyes met yours, her body freezing just as your own was as the two of you took each other in. You felt a pain in your chest as she gazed upon you, for you knew deep in your heart that this was as close as you could allow someone as beautiful, as ethereal as she, to knowing you truly. 

No, you were better suited to late night debauchery and secret rendezvous, to a quiet aching for a love as unabashed and free as the kind you coaxed your sisters into, to a life unsatisfied and far away from one as glorious as the woman who stared back at you. 

You looked away as the dread began to morph into longing, a deep breath rattling in your chest as you straightened your shirt and jacket, desiring a stiff cup of punch in order to dim the roar of desire in your chest and in your brain. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so strongly about a woman upon first impression, you were unsure if you ever would again for as long as you had lived.

You felt something in you burning as you turned your back to her, or perhaps there was something burning the back of your skull as you drank, some inescapable voice telling you to turn around, to go and speak to her, but to do such a thing would be unseemly. Surely a woman such as she was married, and only here to chaperone her relations similarly to yourself. Surely she had a husband to stand at the side of, to laugh with and murmur softly into the ear of, to hold and be held by with a soft yet insistent grip. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, your throat closing slightly with nerves as you caught her quickly turning her head away. Her teeth pearled white as she spoke to an esteemed lady, her shoulders back and her head held high, gesturing lightly with high gloved hands. You searched for a ring upon them, the ridge of raised fabric where one would lie, anything to dissuade yourself from the delusion that maybe you could speak with her in the way a lord would a lady of whom he had interest. 

You begged the stars above and the liquor in your glass for any sign that you should act, for any valid reason other than the flutter of your beating heart that you could have a word with her.

To do such a thing would be to defile her, even if in secret, for you would be forcing the sin of your womanhood upon her under the guise of being a true and proper lord.

Surely she had someone to return to, someone to lock eyes with other than the Lady and yourself. 

And yet she glanced time and time again, green swirling into view as she spoke and charmed and introduced the blonde at her side to mothers and daughters alike. She was playing a game of allegiance making, and she was a deft player. 

It was her turn to look away this time, her conversation with the madame in front of her seemingly ended, and therefore her tenure in that spot terminated.

When Natasha’s eyes first met yours it was as if she was plunged deeply and inescapably into the snows of her homeland: comforting and numbing and chilling her to the bone seemingly all at once. Her ears began to ring, her stomach began to turn, and her mind began to race with dread, for she had never found a man to be so captivating before now. Your appearance lacked any of the roughness that dissuaded her from others of your sex, nor did you leer as you made eye contact with the military daughter. It felt as though you were peering into her spirit rather than simply taking in her body, as if you would have stared at her in the same way should her corporeal form change in some drastic or subtle manner. 

You were polished, more so than any other man she had seen at this affair, carefully put together layer by layer in all things as you stood. Neither cloth nor hair was out of place as she took in your frame, dark fabrics covering strong and disciplined shoulders. There was a softness to your eyes as the two of you gazed that Natasha found.. Enchanting. The way your nose sloped and your chest rose and fell with each breath you took.. She wondered what it would be like to be pressed against you, being held and simply breathing with you rather than whatever this was, than whatever duties or tasks she had to complete for her family and country at this ball. She wondered what your scent was, if it was as strong as your body or as soft as your gaze, she wondered what you would sound like when calling for her.

She felt sick at these flights of imagination, of these visions of fanciful desire, she had never been so taken by it before, she swore such things off at a young age.

She swore them off for she had no interest in men, nor their affairs, she had no interest in anyone outside of herself and her family name…

But now, in England, her name has been taken from her alongside her resolve to be alone. She could have swooned, could have stood there for an eternity, that was until you looked away. She watched how your muscles tensed from afar, shame heating her chest as she was left to escort her sister and wonder what it all meant.

The taste of misery was thick on her tongue as she carried forward, taking the time to speak to a high ranking lady and introduce her sister to the woman, the two of them chatting lightly about the marriage scene and how delightful the ball was. Her heart called to her, begging to look again if only for a moment, as she had never felt anything with such strength before, not since her time on the stage. She hadn’t tasted such fleeting desire in years, had not begged for her brain and body to move and be moved since she twirled to symphonies. 

Alas, she stood and waited, gazing at the back of your figure for as long as her conscience would allow her to. Her hands clenched into themselves, gloved fingers pressing into glove palms, the older woman before her droning onward to Yelena about some insignificant yet ever present tip on how to act. 

Never before had she wished to be in her sisters place, prim and proper and toting a dance card and listening to men blabber about useless subjects such as virility and a womans place. She never would desire such girlish things again should she not see you, and yet she stared and glanced and stole every piece of you that she could from the distance that lay between you and her. 

She wanted it to be over, but she stood and waited. When she saw your neck twitch in her direction, her shame coaxed her gaze elsewhere, finally paying attention to the blue matriarch in front of her. 

The erratic beating of her heart was counter to everything she had ever known and thought of herself, she knew nothing of you except the way you looked, and yet her hands and her mind and her heart all itched and yearned for more. 

She would not go to you, she is a spinster and you are a charming young gentleman… she would do you a dishonor by acting as though the two of you were the same. Instead she walked away, in search of a young gentleman that would catch Yelena”s eye the same way you had hers.

You haunted her that night, no matter where she ran to, who she spoke to, what she partook in, you were just in sight with some young woman who you were no-doubt chaperoning. You smiled just as warmly as she thought you would, all polite hand placements and sweeping gestures when introducing the promising young woman to others.

You were also all hushed tones and quick feet as you continuously walked the woman who matched your style of dress back to one single suitor, over and over. She felt as though she was apart of your conspiracy in that way, her chest warming at your continued and valiant dedication to the woman you escorted. 

Perhaps she was your sister or cousin, Natasha dared not to think of the possibility that she was someone closer to you, that she came from you in some way rather than simply being just connected to you. 

The thought of you going home tonight and sharing the joy and excitement of your efforts with another woman tore at her, for some reason. 

That was not the kind of woman she was. Natalia was not jealous, was not some yearning debutante who chased after the first man who caught her fancy, did not weep at the idea of going home to a cold bed in her manor.

Perhaps Natasha did… though that was not who she was truly.

Perhaps Natasha had fallen ill, and every time she looked at you she felt it more, a coincidence to be explained away…

And yet when you smiled at your ward, she felt a sense of longing… of desire to be in on the joke, of desire to be the reason that you were smiling in that way.

Surely Natasha was ill. Surely there was nothing else she could be, for this land would not continue to change nor affect her heart and spirit. 

Love was for children and fools, and she was neither. 

Love was what your eyes seemed to be full of as you fetched and spoke and mingled and guided. That must mean you are a fool, for there was no other way that someone such as yourself moved so freely. 

Yes, the freedom of it all was what intoxicated her, nothing else… Not enchantment, not beauty, nothing else.

And yet your eyes met again, more intentionally this time, and in that momentary bliss all of the freedom you had suddenly rushed into her. The crowd lightened, and it seemed as if the sea of bodies between you and her cleared. Both of your debutants were gone, off in some corner of the room or wrapped in some spiraled clench on the dance floor, and there the two of you stood. It was as natural as anything, a man and a woman taking achingly slow steps towards each other as strings chorused in the background. On opposite sides of the room, the two of you walked to the center edge, both dressed in black, both feeling trepidation yet excitement. You could feel your spirits rise and fall simultaneously, for there was no way she could possibly be approaching you the same way you were her, surely her beloved walked just behind you at the same pace. 

Yet she looked only at you, not over you, not around you, but at you, in your eyes, at your soul. And so you continued your walk forward, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your pants for the fear that she should feel your anxiety through her gloves before you could ever say a word to her. She stepped forward, maneuvering gracefully around the bodies both mortal and celestial that conspired to keep you apart, holding her head up high so you may notice her grace alongside her beauty. She stepped towards you knowing that if you were even half as kind as your countenance allowed her to think you were, then you would be everything she was taught to ever dream of. You stepped towards her with racing thoughts of how you could court her as you were now, and how you could court her at all times, prayers melting upon and coating your tongue for solely the chance to know and be known by her. To love and be loved by her even if from afar, for the touch of her closely would burn away your flesh and all of the sin it held inside its vessels would surely burn away at her magnificence. 

She walked towards you, she was a meer ten, maybe fifteen feet away, when the two of you stopped walking, for someone more important crossed between both of your paths. 

The Queen had finally arrived, and so all in the building bowed deep in reverence to her, fanfare bursting into both of your skulls. According to the masses this would make the soiree official, more so than before, a gift of prosperity and importance being afforded to the host, no matter if the woman was late or on time. When it was time to stand, you were gone from Natasha’s view, pulled off in some direction by the younger girl in the black and silver dress, her mouth running rapidly and her face contorted in what was assuredly some form of anxiety. As you soothed her, your eyes searched for crimson hair in the regrouping crowd, as if the words of comfort would somehow transfer psychically to her rather than being lost in the dull roar of the crowd.

Natasha was sure her heart had stopped, beats slowing in time with your growing distance. 

She was doomed to be alone, she was doomed to think of you for the rest of her time walking this earth, searching for your eyes and your smile in the faces of men who could never compare to even the slightest glimpse of you.

Natasha was not sure of her convictions as she left the ball, though the fact that she could no longer see you brought a temporary sense of comfort. Loading into the carriage, she stared into her sister’s eyes and waited for her to speak, to voice her feelings on the people and the music and the soul of the affair. Instead they sat for a minute, silent and knowing that each had something uneasing their stomachs and yet unwilling to spill their guts upon the carriage floor.

When Natasha had turned in for the night, candles snuffed and papers put carefully away and dresses removed, she thought of nothing outside of your face, and heard nothing outside of your distant laughter.

In her dreams she felt nothing but what she imagined it would be like to be loved by you, to be home with you, to allow yourself into her completely.

In her next waking she felt nothing but despair, but this was not new to Natasha, and so she went into her office to receive any new letters.

There was one from a house of great esteem, for they had just joined with House Garrington and expanded greatly, a Viscount desired to speak with her regarding a business opportunity. “Lady Romanova-Belova” had been called for specifically, rather curious in Natasha’s opinion, the lack of assumption that there was a lord, or perhaps the knowledge that there was not. They would be meeting within the coming week, should Natasha agree. 

She decided that she should, and went on about her day and her purposeful forgetting. 

When the day of meeting between the two houses had come to pass, all was quiet save for the birds when the morning arrived. There was the paper, and the walking of people on the roads. There were shoppers and nobility promenading in the hopes of catching the eyes of the ones they desired. There was the warm sun hanging in the sky, and the sweet breeze perfumed by daily activities and the efforts of bees. 

You arrived on the door-step of House Romanova-Belova with no fanfare, nor the clopping of horses hooves as you had chosen to walk the scenic road. You gave your hellos to the waitstaff, had tipped the doorman and the woman who had taken your coat generously, and had waited patiently to enter the lady’s salon. While you may not be a suitor, you were still a gentleman, and so it was proper to meet in clear view of many that the salon provided, rather than the unscrupulous privacy of an office or other such room. 

When you were bade entrance, the sun kissed your skin, and you could not help but notice how beautifully the fire of the sky had cast its light upon the room and what it held. It was as if the sun was proud to illuminate the lounge, it made you proud to walk into such a space, to be revered by the sun as the Lady of the house was.

Your gaze swept the room, until finally it was time to turn your gaze upon the madame of the home. When your eyes caught hers, your throat cleared and then tightened.

Your heart began to race, she was even more beautiful in true light, suddenly time froze once more.

[huesohnobro]

You Dont Love Her

The full completed work of You Dont Love Her!

In which the reader is a demonic cult leader/organized criminal in search for something deeper, so deep in fact that she is willing to kill for it, and Natasha is both her greatest enemy as well as her dearest... something.

Also in which Wanda and Natasha bond, and Wanda fights to keep Natasha safe by any means necessary.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38195857

[nakakabaliw]

buying groceries for a bunch superpowered teens aint easy.....

[patrickdiomedes]

[thorias]

I mean

[nams69420]

“Naaaah, I’m not gonna do sumn for love month”

……I lied.

[lecstat]

CINEMA! 🇵🇷

cr: patrick fallon, thearon henderson, neilson barnard, chris graythen

[cherry-vanilla-pepsi]

fire your heart pt 1

pairing: ceo!natasha romanoff x fem!reader, fwb!wanda maximoff x reader

summary: following the firing of a big industry ceo, natasha breaks things off out of fear (& definitely without communicating that fear). you make it a problem for her with the help of your friend, wanda maximoff.

content warnings: mdni, slight angst with lots of suggestive content, mentions of sexual activities but no detailed smut yet, eventual smut (in pt 2), power dynamics, reader is written to have hair long enough wanda can twirl it in her finger, some use of y/n

word count: 2.5k

note: i've been looking for inspiration and it's so unfortunate that it came from the ex-nestle ceo. also, i wanted this to be a natasha romanoff fic but fwb!wanda is kinda hot so she's a star in this. part two coming eventually, but this did take me months to finally post so...

----

"i think we should end this."

it wasn't the first time those words were uttered, but it was the first time it came from natasha. your mouth curved into a smile, mouth bracing itself for a laugh until you looked at her face. the grim look. her eyes cold and detached. very noticeably not looking at you.

"wait, are you being serious? i thought you were mocking me." you removed your head from her naked chest, sitting up in silk sheets. her arm dropped from around your shoulders to your waist from the movement, but she didn't move it.

you didn't understand how she could make that face and say those words with her arm around you protectively.

"this could ruin my career, everything i've worked for." she still wouldn't look at you.

"yeah...mine too. that's what i said to you when we started this in the first place. i have more to lose here than you do! and you are the one that told me not to worry about it."

"well, i was wrong."

this time, she looked at you. the sharpness of her tone and her gaze told you she had made up her mind. you've seen that look in meetings and when she has told a stranger to back off from you at a bar two towns away. you've never had it used on you. until now.

"i'll have carson drive you home," she said, looking away again.

you stared at her, mouth agape. you wanted to say fuck you for doing this, for ending it when she wanted to, on her terms. for fucking you right before doing it too. she was being a coward, but your voice couldn't form the words. not when you were still naked in her bed and in utter shock. so you left. you didn't let carson drive you home no matter how many times he insisted and pleaded that it was 'the boss's orders'. you didn't really give a fuck about what natasha wanted anymore. so you took the subway that natasha never let you take to and from her apartment. and you walked three blocks with only the light of the streetlights back to your place.

----

you suppose you should be grateful natasha broke it off before the company party a month later. you had planned to spend the 'end of third quarter' celebration party avoiding eye contact with the ceo because there was no way you could avoid eye-fucking her if you saw her in that tailored dress she had tried on in front of you two months prior. but now, you didn't need to resist - you didn't want to see her. you definitely didn't want to see the long-legged brunette hanging on her arm.

"i thought you said these parties were fun." wanda, your date to tonight's soiree, took a long sip from her wine glass, red pigment staining the rim.

"they are fun." of course, they were fun. previously. back when you and natasha were together in secret, avoiding each other but always catching each other's eyes. her hand subtly pinching your hip as she reached past you to grab her drink from the bar. you would leave in separate cars headed to the same destination, your knuckles knocking on her apartment door even if she already knew you were coming, already got word from the doorman that you were headed up and already saw you on the security camera situated just above the door's trimming. she'd open the door, pull you in and take you right against it as soon as it was shut. it was one of your favorite games you played every time.

wanda raised an eyebrow at you, "right. maybe you and i define fun a little differently."

you smiled. a sneaky, little smile while your fingers brushed her hip. "i don't know, wanda. i think we have the same idea of fun."

wanda looked down at where your hand now sat just above the curve of her ass that her dress highlighted beautifully. she looked back up at you, a smirk setting in her features. her head tilted.

"if you're not having fun, wanda, i can give you something fun to do," you took a step closer to her, closing the gap between you. enough to be intimate but not enough to become an h.r. problem. thus far.

the sadness from the "breakup" lasted about a week. then, you finally looked up at natasha during one your team project meetings and saw dark circles under her eyes you knew were not from overworking. you knew she had an intense skincare regimen to make it look like she slept a full eight hours even if she had spent all day in the office and all night rutting her strap into you. her tired, sad eyes and weak smile were evidence that she was devastated from the split too. and that realization brought you into a rage. a rage you hastily relayed to wanda. wanda let you feel sad the week prior and let you feel angry then, too. she listened to your rants that often ended up sounding a lot more like declarations of love, but always told you you were right and that natasha was an idiot. it was exactly what you needed.

in the third week, you had a calmed down a bit. every time a reminder of natasha or something she did or said or liked or didn't like came up, it would send you on another tirade but you were moving on! you just needed to get it all out of your system. one night, you and wanda were watching black swan on her couch and your thighs clenched together when natalie portman and mila kunis started making out. three weeks without sex shouldn't feel like a long time, but natasha had used sex as a way to blow off steam after a tiring day at work just as much as she used it as a show of passion. so, you were used to sex on a regular basis. natalie portman's heavy breathing and moaning was not helping you out here. thus began wanda's joking that made you grumble but quickly transitioned into teasing touches with soft fingertips and condescending flirtations that made you whine for all different reasons. when you came on wanda's tongue that night, you thought maybe you had blown off all the steam you needed in that release and finally gotten the redhead out of your system. wanda was exactly what you needed.

"were you this much of a brat for natasha at all these parties?"

her name landed like a slap to the chest, briefly taking you aback and stealing your breath, but you steeled yourself. "i don't want to hear her name right now, thank you."

"don't act like you're not turned on by the fact that she could look over any minute and see us this close. you don't think i know you invited me here to get a rise out of her?" wanda retorted.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you scoffed.

wanda chose to ignore your indignation. "i certainly hope you get it. you're a handful," she muttered that second part.

"so are you gonna fuck me or not?"

"i will. but you'll wait for it." she took a strand of your hair and twirled it in her finger.

it's a shame a pretty woman like wanda couldn't distract you from the sound of natasha's velvet voice ordering "one red and one white, please. thank you, sir." besides your little game with natasha, company parties had one other consistency: the bar was always free. it was a lesson in self restraint for many young employees. a show of stinginess for older employees who refused to tip in the absence of payment. natasha, ceo of the company, dropped two fifty dollar bills in the tip bucket sitting on the bar. natasha dropped a fifty for every drink she requested at the company parties.

she had a habit of doing that sort of thing - carelessly overpaying, flaunting her money around, not because she wanted anyone to know she had it, but because she really just didn't care for it. it used to make you swoon. every time she dropped her heavy black credit card down on the corner table hidden in the back of a restaurant. every time a wire was sent to your bank account when you were out with your friends. every time a package mysteriously appeared outside your door holding lingerie, every book by some author you mentioned twice, a dress in the color she said she liked on you, a white noise machine after you said the city was sometimes too loud for you to sleep, a vibrator with instructions to wear it on your next date, or three bottles of her favorite wine from italy while she was on a business trip. now, it just seemed pretentious enough to roll your eyes -- a habit she always hated. something she tried to spank out of you every time you did it.

so of course, her gaze found you.

"y/n, good to see you! i hope you're enjoying yourself," she greeted cheerily but you could see the edge in her words when she glanced over at wanda.

"i am." you decided to take one out of her book by hardly looking at her.

"you must be wanda, right? i'm natasha. i've heard so much about you." natasha turned her attention to wanda.

wanda smiled innocently, "is that so? i didn't realize you were so close with the ceo, y/n."

you held back a laugh because pretty brunette was the only one outside the joke. wanda knew how close you and natasha were. natasha knew that wanda knew. it had been a fight to convince the ceo that you should be able to tell one friend about your little affair. you didn't think it was fair that her driver and doorman and cleaner and chef and assistant were all privy to your secret relationship while you couldn't tell a single soul. so after feeling like you were losing a never-ending battle, you bat your eyelashes and kissed down her body and ate her out until she couldn't say anything but a sleepy, breathless "yes" when you asked one more time during post-sex cuddles.

natasha smiled tightly, "i try to get to know all my employees."

wanda hummed. "and do you work here as well?" she asked, directing her attention to the brunette to natasha's right. their arms were interlocked in a comfortable ease that made you suspect the physical intimacy was nothing new to them. you took a sip of your whiskey ginger and felt a burning in your chest. from the alcohol, of course.

the brunette chuckled, "no, no. i'm just an old friend of natasha's from school."

"amanda is also too humble. she's a pediatrician at nyu langone hospital," natasha's eyes flickered to watch your expression.

"how impressive" was your reaction. it truly was impressive but that made it all the more agitating to admit. she's beautiful and smart and successful and exactly natasha's age and she can hold onto her arm without her career blowing up.

"y/n is in our business development department. she's been working on a big project to expand our market capitalization," natasha explained to amanda.

"very nice! i see you're keeping my friend here in business," amanda commended you with a graceful smile. she really is perfect.

out of the corner of your eye, you could see wanda dramatically downing the remaining ounce of wine in her glass.

"would you like another? sir-" natasha started.

"no, thank you, natasha. we are actually going to start heading out," wanda replied. she tried to hide her smirk when you whipped your head towards her in surprised glee. you failed to hide your expression and natasha saw.

"oh, are you sure? it's still quite early." natasha's eyes were on you even though wanda would be the only one to entertain further conversation, if only to keep you waiting just a second longer.

"yes, unfortunately, we have a prior commitment to attend to. it was a lovely party," wanda explained however mendaciously. she took your glass into her free hand, "i'll go put these down. meet me by coat check, babe."

you appreciated how petty wanda could be. the pet name drew a blush from you and a subtle tick in natasha's eyebrow. wanda turned on her heel without so much as a final goodbye to natasha or amanda. you realized after a seconds too long pause that you had been watching wanda leave right in front of your ex ceo.

"i- i'm going to coat check," you stuttered before gaining your composure. "it was nice to meet you, amanda. have a good night," you farewelled, trying your best to keep your eyes off of the redhead.

"you too, y/n," amanda smiled a perfect toothy smile. she is infuriating.

"see you on monday, y/n." perhaps it was just your ego in the moment, but it seemed like natasha might be panicked by the idea of you going home with wanda. you and wanda had a past that she was well aware of. your friends with benefits situation wasn't new. it existed longer than you had known natasha and clearly, it would exist past her as well. so maybe you had invited wanda tonight to get a rise out of her. it worked, didn't it?

the line for coat check was nonexistent given the night had only just begun with coworkers starting to feel the light effects of their first drinks. wanda reached you just as you tipped the worker handing over your's and wanda's jackets. october had brought in a light chill that couldn't be denied once the warmth of the sun had vanished for the day. wanda's leather jacket provided much more protection to the cold than your light blazer, but you had a double shot of whiskey and hot attraction on your side so maybe you would be just fine.

"ready, babe?" she winked at you with a devious smile that held multitudes.

"she's going to murder me on monday because of you," you lamented.

"oh, don't think about what she's going to do to you on monday. don't you wanna know what i'm going to do to you tonight?" wanda spoke lowly into your ear, reaching for the faux leather in your hand.

for now, you could forget the hidden traditions you made with natasha at these parties. you could pretend she wasn't looking at you from across the room when she should have been moving on to mingle with other colleagues and low-level employees. you could pretend you weren't anticipating how she would look at you on monday, whether it would be a longing, everlasting glance as she strutted to her office or an angry, jealousy-ridden stare that made goosebumps cover on your skin. you could look at wanda and her dark brown hair and beautiful body and perfect eyes and know you were in for a good night. and maybe one good night with a friend could be enough.

[puncertainty]

comic by my buddy jack. illustrations by me

[pragnificent]

This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life. 

[thingsamylikes]

I reblogged her late last year and my 2024 has been very satisfying work-wise and (secure enough to not stress out) money-wise so far. Money Snake is wise and good.