on knees for Scar and Liz

(23) she/her, just reading and reblog-ing

[lizzielillvr]

I just know that I need top!zora x reader x top!natasha 🤤

[westwriteswhatever]

By Chance

G!P Natasha Romanoff x Florist/Streamer Reader

Summary:  Natasha was stressed. Her life was filled with responsibility, even more now that she had to train the new recruits for the next three months. Not finding the same relief she had once felt after working out, she started watching a gaming streamer. Finding that your voice relaxed her and eased the tension in her body.

She walks into a flower shop, needing to buy flowers for Wanda’s birthday. You welcome her warmly. Wait, why does that voice sound so familiar?

Warnings: G!P (N), smut, yearning, jealousy, fluff

Word Count: 9k

Minors DNI

---

“Thank you for stopping by! I hope your girlfriend likes the bouquet,” you say brightly to your last customer of the day.

The bell on the door chimes as they exit and you let out a sigh of relief. It had been a busy day, rather a busy week with a multitude of events that called for bouquets, arrangements, etc. 

You were always grateful to be the go to florist for weddings, holidays, and anniversaries. At times for more somber reasons like funerals, but you were able to leave a lasting memory for your customers with the care you put into their requests.

Being a florist and owning your own shop was something you always aspired for and it brought a lot of meaning into your life. Seeing people at their happiest and at their lowest points was something you didn’t take for granted and always gave it your best.

Though, being empathetic and connecting with customers didn’t cost you anything and felt natural, you needed some time in your day to focus on yourself and relax. 

You did that through gaming which became a hobby a few years ago. Being able to immerse yourself into another world and focus on only that was something that took your mind off the responsibilities that came with being an adult. 

Wanting to connect with others who enjoyed the same hobby, you started streaming a month ago in hopes of meeting or creating a community of people with interests similar to yours. It had started off slow, which was to be expected, but soon you had people joining your stream and chatting with you.

You loved the small community you had and was grateful to have something to look forward to after work. You enjoyed talking about your day and hearing about the lives of others and the different games they were playing. 

You chose to stream without a camera because you wanted this to be completely separate from your normal life and were a bit too shy to put yourself completely out there. Thankfully those in your community didn’t mind and stuck around for you and your personality.

–

After closing up the shop, you arrived home and began settling in for the night. Doing your usual routine of showering, making dinner, and preparing for your stream.

You do your routine of making sure all your equipment is working, your connection is stable, and at last, you press “Go Live”.

–

Natasha turned on the TV and connected to the live stream of the only person who brought her peace for the past two weeks.

It was Natasha’s turn to train recruits for the next three months which had begun a month ago. Being as skilled as she was as Black Widow, training people who didn’t know their asses from their elbows was headache inducing. Not to mention the overconfident recruits who felt that they were above the training they were receiving.

Exercising had been a way for her to release stress and still was, but recently it hadn’t felt like enough. She wanted a way to relax at the end of the day and discovered gaming. After exploring a few games she learned that while she did enjoy it quite a bit, she found more joy in watching people playing after stumbling upon a videogame streaming site.

She came across a channel called, “Y/N’s Corner” and was immediately hooked. Your soft and gentle voice brought her a sense of calm that she hadn’t experienced in a while. Like the stresses of the day and the responsibilities she had didn’t matter for the time that she watched your stream.

Listening to your little rambles about your day as you traversed throughout whatever game you chose to play made her smile without realizing. You were just the right amount of casual and competitive that kept her engaged. Hearing you laugh brought a sense of warmth in her chest that she couldn’t explain and she wondered what you looked like when you were laughing. 

She never chatted, rather, was a silent supporter and showed up whenever she could when she saw the notification that you went live. Always thankful for the unknown streamer that allowed her to go to sleep in peace.

After your stream ended for the day, Natasha laid in bed thinking about what she needed to do the next day and remembered it would be Wanda’s birthday. Tony would be throwing a party for the occasion and she didn’t want to show up empty handed. Maybe flowers? she thinks as she drifts off to sleep.

–

After a few deliveries, it had been a slower day at the shop. Considering how busy it had been the past week you couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved to have a breather. 

It was nearing the time to close and the sun was starting to set, creating a warm hue throughout the shop. Shadows casted from the dissipating light were all around you in the shape of flowers as you began doing a few closing tasks around the counter.  

The bell chimed as a customer entered the shop and you looked up to see a distracted redhead examining the flowers near the door. You couldn’t help but pause as the setting sun made her look like she was glowing. Her hair looked fiery but soft at the same time and her green eyes were shining from the reflection of the light. The green dress she was wearing accentuated her eyes even more.

You shook your head, remembering that you have a job to do and need to lock in. 

“Hi, welcome in! Is there anything specific that you’re looking for?” you say with a bright smile.

Her eyes snap to yours and looks at you as though she recognizes you from somewhere.

“Not anything specific,” she says while squinting at you. “It’s my friend’s birthday and I wanted to get her some flowers.”

Choosing to ignore the looks she was giving you, you respond “That’s very sweet of you. Did you want to choose a few flowers for a bouquet or select a premade one? Or I can select a few for you.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you select a few to create a bouquet?” the redhead says.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you say while walking around the counter. “Do you happen to know what flowers your friend likes?”

“I don’t, sorry. I know that flowers have a meaning behind them and I’d like to convey our friendship and hope for her happiness, if that’s helpful at all.”

“It’s very helpful,” you say while scanning the shop. You pick up a yellow freesia and hold it up to her. “This, for example, conveys friendship in flower language. While a yellow daisy represents happiness. There’s a lot of combinations to choose from to convey what you want to express to the person you’re giving them to. My job is to try to make it presentable at the end,” you say with a laugh.

“I don’t know if my friend will understand the meaning of them,” she says with a little smile. “Hopefully the feeling will be conveyed anyway. I think my friend likes pink. What about these ones?” Glancing at you while pointing to some pink hyacinths.

“Oh, so you’re doing my job for me now?” you say playfully. “Those are pink hyacinths. They represent playful joy. I think they’d add a pop to the bouquet. I was starting to get worried that it was getting too yellow.”

“I had to throw in a suggestion considering I hardly gave you anything to off of,” she says with a smirk. “I think three different types of flowers should be enough. I don’t want to hold you up any longer.”

You gather a handful of each of the flowers and move behind the counter to start arranging them.

“You’re not holding me up at all. What’s your name by the way?” you ask while multitasking to fill the silence.

“My name is Natasha. What’s yours?”

“I’m Y/N.” Pointing to your name stitched into the fabric of your green apron.

Natasha looks surprised that she didn’t notice as she looks down to where you’re pointing.

You catch her attention again, gesturing to the ribbons. “What color ribbon would you like to be tied around the bouquet?”

Her eyes move to examine the ribbons. Smirking, she says, “Let’s go with scarlet.”

You pull up the total as you do the finishing touches on the bouquet.

Natasha pays as you hand her the finished bouquet. Her fingers brush yours as she looks up and gazes at you. It feels like the noises outside come to a quiet and it’s just you and her, hands touching, looking at each other as though you were both exactly where you needed to be.

“Thank you so much for your help today Y/N,” she says softly while looking down at where your hands are touching. 

You looked down as well, feeling shy all of a sudden. “It was my pleasure. I really enjoyed helping you today and I hope your friend likes the flowers.”

Her hand moves away from yours as she grabs the bouquet from you fully. You immediately miss the bit of warmth that her hand had given you but shake it off as you look up to give her a soft smile.

“Have a great rest of your day Natasha. If you’re ever in need of flowers again, you know where to find me.”

“Of course. You’ll be my go to girl,” she says with a playful smile. She turns to leave and you find yourself staring at her as she walks away.

With her hand on the door handle she turns around to look at you. Even though the sun had set a bit more than when she first walked in, she still looked as radiant to you as when she first entered. 

Her eyes shining like emeralds linger on your face as if memorizing you before smiling and walking out the door.

You inhale deeply, realizing that you hadn’t been breathing during the short staring contest. You feel your heart beating a little faster and wonder what it was about her that made you feel this way.

You could only hope to see her again as the shop was encompassed in darkness as the sun fully set.

—

Natasha walked back to the Tower, holding the bouquet securely against herself as though it were something precious and fragile. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she ruined the beautiful arrangement you had made for her.

She looked back on the interaction she had with you and wished it could’ve been longer. When you had first welcomed her in she felt startled to hear the same voice she’d heard last night on stream. The same voice that would quiet the worries in her mind and soften the shell she surrounded herself in.

At first she thought it was just a coincidence, someone with a similar voice. Your laugh though, was unmistakable. That laugh that carried an ease to it and was so infectious that she couldn’t help but feel lighter while hearing it. 

She’d always wondered what you would’ve looked like laughing, and seeing it in person was even more than she could’ve imagined. Your eyes brightened with a little crinkle in the corners of your eyes that she found endearing. The way when your laughter would slowly die down and turn into a soft smile.

You brought the same sense of peace that she felt while watching your streams but the feeling was even deeper while talking to you in person. She felt a pull towards you that she couldn’t quite explain and secretly hoped to see you again soon. 

Maybe tell you about how Wanda liked the flowers tomorrow as an excuse to visit you, she thought as she entered the tower and stepped into the elevator to go up to the party.

The elevator doors open to loud music and a sea of people that Tony probably invited. She scans the room to find the birthday girl leaning against Vision and talking animatedly to some members of the team.

She makes her way through the crowd with light steps, gracefully avoiding bumping into other partygoers until finally arriving in front of Wanda.

“Natasha you’re finally here!” Wanda exclaims excitedly. 

“Yes, sorry I’m a bit late. I was grabbing these for our beautiful birthday girl,” she says while handing Wanda the bouquet.

“These are gorgeous Natasha. I didn’t take you for one to know flower language or did you just take a lucky guess and happen to choose the ones that mean friendship?” Wanda remarks with a teasing lilt while giving Natasha a hug.

“Hey, I can be sentimental too you know,” Natasha states exasperatedly. “But yes, the florist was the one who helped me with the meanings behind the flowers and choose them. The pink one was my lucky guess.”

“I figured,” Wanda says with a laugh. “Thank you anyways. I love them. I guess I’ll have to pay them a visit when I want to change the flowers in my room.”

“You should. The florist’s name is Y/N she’s really–”

“Rushman! You’re needed behind the bar,” Tony calls from somewhere nearby.

“Unfortunately duty, or I guess I should say the Tinman, calls,” Natasha says while rolling her eyes. “I’ll catch up with you whenever you decide to freshen your drink. Enjoy the party Wanda, you deserve it.”

Wanda gives Natasha another hug before Natasha walks to take over as makeshift bartender.

Charming the guests came naturally to her as she made their drinks. Fake smiles and polite pleasantries. Never anything below surface level despite the many advances made towards her. 

After a few hours she was relieved of her duties and decided to call it a night. The forced smiles had taken a toll on her social battery. She wishes Wanda a happy birthday one last time and says her goodbyes to the team before heading back to the elevator to go to her room.

She releases a sigh of relief as she closes the door to her room, taking off her heels and begins getting ready for bed.

It was late and she knew that the chances of you streaming were low, but decided to check anyway as she opened her laptop. She was happily surprised to see that you were live. Her body relaxed into the bed the moment she heard your voice. You sounded a bit congested compared to earlier, but maybe her speaker was the problem.

“Haley is so hot but so rude in the beginning. I know she gets better but do I really want to marry someone who was mean to me until I gave them gifts? Leah feels more stable and more wholesome. Sigma67, hell no I’m not marrying one of the bachelor’s. Sebastian? I may as well marry a rock at that point.”

Natasha chuckles quietly as she hears you continue to rant about the marriage candidates in the game. Feeling her eyes slowly begin to close to the soothing tone of your voice.

“If I could marry Krobus I would. They’re the only one that never disappoints me, doesn’t get jealous, gives me buffs. What’s not to…”

—

Natasha woke up feeling refreshed. She had a rare day off and was looking forward to resting her voice from yelling at recruits.

After finishing her morning routine she joined the team for breakfast in the common room. Everyone but Steve was fairly hungover so it was a quieter morning with Wanda cooking, Tony grumbling about how much his head hurts, and Vision watching over everyone. 

You stayed in the back of her mind all throughout and she wonders if it’d be too soon to pay you a visit. She continued to consider this while going through her workout and while she headed to her room to shower.

While showering, she convinces herself to go, not to see you, but to let you know how much Wanda loved the flowers. Definitely not because she already missed your smile.

She changes into jeans, a white shirt, a leather jacket, and a baseball cap. It was much earlier than yesterday when she visited your shop and she hoped she wouldn’t be catching you at a busy time.

She turns the corner to see the white door of your shop but pauses when she sees a sign on it.

The sign on the door read, “Closed today, sorry:(“

While your handwriting and frowny face looked adorable, she felt a wave of disappointment wash over her when realizing she wouldn’t be seeing you today. 

Hopefully you’d be streaming today so she could at least hear your voice, she thought as she trudges back to the tower.

—

The day passed by slowly and it was finally around the time you normally stream. Natasha had her laptop open, ready to watch whenever you went live.

This went on for a few hours, with her tidying up her room, doing her nighttime routine, all the while checking her laptop every few minutes. The notification of you going live never comes.

Maybe you’re taking a break today too,” she thought, trying not to be too disappointed. 

Realizing you wouldn’t be streaming today, she put one of your previous streams on, hoping that it would have the same effect. She felt herself relax a bit, but missed hearing new stories about your day and worried about why you had closed today.

—

Sleep had not come easily. Natasha woke up throughout the night, pausing to listen to you, then going back to sleep. Apparently there was something special about hearing you talk live. Or perhaps after meeting you, she wanted more.

The combination of the change in routine and her lack of sleep forced her into a lousy mood that she wasn’t afraid to show.

After getting ready for the day and changing into her workout attire she walked into the common room for breakfast. Everyone was already seated as she made her way to the end of the table next to Steve and Tony.

“Wake up late, Romanoff? That’s unusual for you,“ Tony quipped.

“Finally got your head out of your ass, Tony? That’s unusual for you,” Natasha snaps back with a glare.

“Jeez, who rained on your parade today?”

“Stop provoking her, Tony. You’ll just make it worse,” Steve says, glancing between them. “Nat, is something wrong?”

“What’s wrong is both of you spreading your testosterone and not minding your own business.”

“What am I supposed to do about–”

“Tony, let’s just eat quietly.” Steve, sensing her mood, picks up his fork and silences Tony.

—

Natasha slams her jacket down on her bed. It felt like everyone was getting on her last nerve today. Tony with his constant comments, the recruits being incompetent, and most of all you still not going live today.

You didn’t stream for another two days and Natasha was losing it. She had checked your shop to see if you were open, under the guise of surveying the area, only to be disappointed each time. The rain cloud that was forming on the first day only grew and she wasn’t afraid to strike lightning down on anyone who tried to mess with her. Or breathe within five feet of her for that matter.

She was towards the end of sparring training with the recruits and everyone had been paired up except the odd number that got stuck with Natasha. She took her time making small jabs until she caught them off guard and slammed them into the mat with more force than necessary. Finally dismissing everyone for the day.

The recruits grumble about how harsh she had been the past few days as they walk to the locker rooms. 

She releases a tense sigh. The days felt slower without you, like she was just going through the motions to get to the end, only to start over again the following day.

She felt a desperation in her chest that she had never felt before. How could you affect her this way when she barely knew you? Sure, she watches your streams and knows small details from the anecdotes that you shared, but those were simple. What she felt when she met you was like she was behind a door that could bring her happiness. Unlocked and inviting. She just wasn’t sure if she was brave enough or trusted what was beyond.

She made her way up to her room to shower, passing by staff and team members who took one look at her expression and scampered away. 

Her head felt clearer after showering but there was a lingering feeling of exhaustion that wouldn’t go away. With dark circles under her eyes and heavy shoulders, she made her way to her laptop, deciding to catch up on reports to get her mind off of you.

The streaming site was still open from when she had played one of your past broadcasts the night before. She was about to close the tab when she saw a notification on the top right of her screen indicating that you had just gone live.

The exhaustion she felt washed away into disbelief. Completely disregarding the reports she needed to finish, she found her way to your channel and heard you greeting everyone.

Your voice sounded a bit scratchier and you spoke quieter, but the complicated feelings in Natasha’s chest dissipated. She felt lighter than she had in days. It was you. You that had been on her mind, you that brought quietness in the chaos of her life, you that she had missed even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“Sorry for not streaming these past few days without any notice. I ended up getting a cold and was confined to the dungeon that is my room and the cell that is my bed. I’ve been symptom free for the past day – throat is still going through it as you can hear. Hopefully I won’t sound like a gremlin for too much longer.”

Natasha caught herself smiling softly the entire time you were talking and laughing along with you. Your giggle might’ve been the cutest thing she ever heard. She was glad to hear that you were okay and still had your infectious positivity. 

You couldn’t talk as much as normal, as you were protecting your throat, but Natasha savored the bits and pieces of you talking about your cold as if it was an adventure.

“And then I literally sneezed 10 times in a row. I thought that was it for me – with no one to bless me and all. It’s a miracle I survived without any blessings.”

 Natasha listened for as long as she could, but felt herself slowly dozing off. The lack of sleep finally catching up to her as though hearing that you were okay was the permission she needed to rest peacefully.

I hope the flower shop is open tomorrow, she thought before letting sleep take over her.

—

You woke up feeling better than you had for days. Your throat didn’t feel like it was on the verge of shriveling up every time you talked and your complexion looked better as you tested your voice in front of the mirror of your bathroom.

“You’ve been symptom free for 36 hours. It’s time to get back on the saddle and work.” Hyping yourself up while walking to your closet.

Deciding on a gray long sleeve shirt and blue jeans you head out to the door to put your sneakers on before finally departing for your shop. 

It felt good to be walking the familiar route after being trapped inside for a few days. Other shop owners stop you to ask where you’d been. You retold the story of your cold in the most dramatic way possible as they laugh along with you, handing you little treats as a way of saying “We’re happy to see you back and hope you’re feeling better.”

After finishing your tale, you bid them farewell as you made the rest of your way to your shop. Taking note of the sign on the door that you haphazardly wrote when you realized you were too unwell to open.

You unlock the door and take everything in. The automatic watering system thankfully had done its job. Your plant babies were still thriving. Your green apron is still hanging near the counter. The fresh smell of the flowers gives you energy.

It hadn’t been long but you had missed this. You loved the routine you had of taking care of the flowers and managing your shop. 

You walk through the space, going around the counter to put on your apron. Starting your opening tasks before finding yourself at the door ready to kick off the day.

You saw customers already waiting outside the door, some being regulars that you felt grateful to. You turn the closed sign to open and open the door with a smile.

“Welcome in!”

—

It had been quite the rush until you were in the last half an hour of being open.

Regulars had stopped by when they noticed you were open and new customers joined when they saw how popular your shop was. You caught up and laughed with them as you navigated the shop to help them find what they were looking for. Helping others who were unsure, until everyone left with smiles on their faces and flowers in hand. 

The sun was low in the sky. You felt sapped, but filled with warmth. You hadn’t been gone for long, but the reception you received filled you with gratefulness.

You were tidying up around the floor when you saw pink hyacinths in the corner of your eye. You brush the petals gently with your fingers. Natasha suddenly came to mind. The sun had been setting like it was now and you remember how drawn you felt towards her.

Is it weird to feel this way towards someone I’ve only interacted with once? you thought, reminiscing about the interaction.

While lost in thought, the bell chimes and you glance up.

You lock onto familiar green eyes, the same eyes you were just picturing. Your heart flutters as you glimpse down at her lips that were curling into a smile.

You try to muster some courage. “I guess you couldn’t stay away. Back for more?”

“I did say you’d be my go to girl,” she says with an easy smile. “Plus, my friend adored the bouquet you made her for her birthday.”

“Hey, you chose one of the flowers so it was a team effort,” you say grinning at her. “What’s the occasion today?”

She looks caught off guard but quickly answers, “Just something for myself.”

“Nothing wrong with some self love.” You cringe inside at your response. Normally you were charismatic with your customers, but with Natasha you couldn’t stop your nervousness.

“Yes, exactly,” she responds seriously. “Can you choose a few flowers for me to create a bouquet like you did last time? I’m not familiar with that many so I’d really appreciate it, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Already looking around for the flowers that came to mind when you thought of her, you shot her a smile. “I’m more than happy to.”

You pluck some light red carnations, pink tulips, and white orchids from their containers with decisiveness. 

Natasha watches you with fondness as you begin wrapping the flowers in floral wrap.

“Are you not going to tell me the meanings of the flowers this time?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, forgetting that she’d probably be expecting you to explain the meanings like you did last time. Contemplating if you should lie, you decide you should do your job properly.

“The light red carnations mean admiration, the pink tulips mean gentle affection, and the white orchids mean beauty,” you relay quickly while pointing to each one. Looking away to not see her reaction.

You don’t see Natasha change from looking at you with fondness, to looking at you with so much tenderness that even she’s surprised at how you can make her melt with just a few words.

“Can I get a bouquet of these as well?” she asks while pointing to the container of white gerbera daisies.

“Of course,” you say while going around the counter to retrieve them. Relieved that she wasn’t asking further about your selection of flowers for her.

You wrap the daisies while she watches your hands work. The silence felt more comfortable than it did the first time she had visited.

You bring up the total for the bouquets after finishing the wrapping, handing them to her after she pays. She only grabs one of the bouquets, leaving the bouquet of white gerbera daisies in your hands.

“Those are for you,” she says leaning forward with a soft smile. “New connections.” She turns around and walks out the door. Leaving you with just the sound of the bell’s chime, a racing heart, and an astonished expression.

—

Ever since Natasha had gifted you the bouquet, she had been visiting you everyday around the time you closed. 

She would help you move the heavier pots and containers that you normally struggled with, with ease. She’d sweep the floor for you and wipe the windows even though you protested against it. After the first few days you started joking that she was an honorary worker.

The conversations started gradually, just learning bits and pieces about each other. You learned that she was Russian, that she has a sister who she loves but tries to hide it, that she learned ballet when she was younger. You could tell that she didn’t like to share much about herself, so you gratefully held the pieces that she did share close to you.

After two weeks, she nervously told you that she was a part of the Avengers with Black Widow being her alias. 

“How could you let me charge you for the flowers?” you shriek.

“That’s what you’re focused on?” she asks, amused. Her shoulders lose their tension.

“I mean, for someone who’s saved the world a couple times, the least I could’ve done was give you some free flowers,” you mutter regretfully. 

She looks down at her hands, rough from her training and field experience. “I thought you’d treat me differently considering everything I’ve done in the past is out there.” 

You consider her words before reaching for her hands. Holding them in yours gently as though she were precious. To you she was.

“These past few weeks I’ve gotten to know Natasha. Not Black Widow. I know Natasha can’t tell the difference between a hydrangea and a dianthus even though I’ve told her at least 100 times,” you say with a playful eyeroll. “I know Natasha is a menace if she doesn’t have a coffee at 3 o’clock on the dot. I know that Natasha loves her friends and family even when she’s complaining about them.”

You rub the back of her hand with your thumb. “And I know Natasha that’s allowed herself to tell me pieces of herself even though it’s difficult. That’s the person who I want to continue to know and learn about, past be damned.”

She looks at you, eyes glistening, as though you hung the stars and the moon.

“I guess I’ll have to keep telling you more about me,” she murmurs, holding your hand back.

—

It had been a month since Natasha started visiting your shop regularly. Helping you close at the end of the day had become a part of her routine. You and her had gotten even closer after she told you what she does. Even bringing you to the tower a few times, in which you were endlessly entertained by F.R.I.D.A.Y.

She wasn’t sure how to define your relationship. It felt like an in between where she accepted how she felt about you, but was too afraid to risk what you guys had currently. She had convinced herself that she was satisfied with how things were as long as she had you, her sunshine, in her life.

That is, until she walked to your shop and paused at the door to see a man leaning against the counter. Far too close to your personal space. Natasha could tell he was flirting with you and she felt her chest tighten.

She knew you were popular in the area. People from other shops often brought you gifts in the form of baked goods and other items from their shops. She always figured that you’d probably have some admirers, but seeing it in person brought a twinge of irritation that she wasn’t anticipating.

She wanted to stop him but knew she didn’t have the right. You weren’t hers. People were allowed to be interested in you and she had to be okay with that. She told herself this, but imaging you with someone else felt unbearable. The facade of being satisfied with just being friends cracking.

While lost in her thoughts you notice her at the front. Wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with her leather jacket that you had become so familiar with. The man, who was leaning far too close to you and only talking about himself, had blocked your view of her. You wave at her, catching her attention.

She looks conflicted as she walks through the door. You lean back from the counter, letting the man know you would be closing soon. Essentially dismissing him without saying it outright.

He gets the idea and walks out, grumbling about how women never give men chances.

“Are you ready for your closing shift?” you ask with a grin.

She looks lost in thought as she absentmindedly murmurs, “Yeah, let’s get started.”

Normally she’d chat with you while you guys went through the checklist of tasks. Today she was quiet. Seemingly engrossed in what was preoccupying her mind.

Maybe she’s tired today, you thought while moving the last pot into place and closing out the register.

You turn to look at her, only for her to already be watching you. Her face fills with determination as she locks eyes with you.

“Do you want to hang out at the tower today?”

Your eyes widen. Figuring that she wasn’t in the mood to talk today. You would never turn down an opportunity to spend time with her though.

“Of course. You just can’t get enough of me huh?” 

“I really can’t,” she says softly, moving towards you. She reaches her arms around you, untying the back of your apron and gently maneuvering the neck loop over your head. “Ready to go?” she asks next to your ear.

She moves away to put the apron on the hook near the counter. 

You're glad because you’re sure if she was still next to you that she would be able to hear your heart beating a mile a minute. Did she know the effect she had on you? There’s no way she didn’t. You had known that you had feelings for Natasha for a while now. At times you thought she might feel the same way, but she never pushed the boundaries of friendship. So you always held yourself back.

It was the first time you felt that maybe just being friends wouldn’t be enough. Your heart wanting more. To be hers and for her to be yours. You just didn’t know how to make that step forward and if it was worth risking everything.

You both walk to the door together, her holding it open for you before you lock the door.

The evening was warm as you both made your way to the tower. You felt yourself gravitate towards her, bumping into her occasionally. Apologizing each time with a shy smile.

Her hand brushes yours as she gives you a smile, telling you not to apologize when you’re about to open your mouth to say sorry again. Your hand felt electric where she had made contact.

You enter the tower together and head to the elevator. She presses the button for her floor.

You’d only been to her room twice, both briefly. You felt glad that your relationship with her was progressing and maybe she was putting more trust in you.

She leads you to her room, closing the door but not turning around.

“Nat?”

—

So many thoughts were racing through Natasha’s mind. Should she risk everything? If you didn’t feel the same way, how would you guys go back to how you were before? Would you even be in her life after this?

She looks down and notices her usually steady hands, shaking. She was terrified of not having you with her. 

She swallows the fear down, the feeling of wanting more – to have you be hers overtaking her as she takes a deep breath and turns around.

“Y/N,” she says with as much confidence as she can muster. It was now or never. It was time to allow herself to open the door.

“We haven’t known each other for that long but the moment I walked into your shop to buy flowers that day, I knew I was a goner for you. You’re on my mind all the time. When I see the sunset, I think of you. When there’s flowers on the side of the road, I think of you. Even when I’m brushing my teeth, I think of the silly faces you make at me when we’re closing the shop and I can’t help but smile and wish you were there with me.”

She takes a shaky breath before saying, “I might’ve been a goner even before that. Your voice, your laugh, your cute giggles, have brought me so much peace even before really meeting you. Over two months ago I came across your stream and I was hooked. Hearing about your day and watching you play games with your adorable commentary became a part of my routine. When I went to get flowers the day we met, I didn’t know it was you until I heard your laugh. I’d know that laugh anywhere. The same laugh that felt like it was lifting the burdens of my day away. I didn’t mean to hide that I knew about your stream, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m sorry for keeping it to myself all this time.” She finds the courage to look at you.

You’re staring at her. Eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what she was saying.

She prepares herself to be rejected. She’d told you this too late.

“Y/N-”

“Nat,” you say, cutting her off. “For a master assassin you’re not very good at hiding things.” You say with humor in your voice, eyes filled with warmth.

“The first time you allowed me into your room I happened to see your laptop open. I promise I wasn’t peeking on purpose! It was just right there, and I saw my channel on your screen. If I clocked you as a stalker, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You walk forward until you're standing right in front of her. Her eyes tracking you the whole way.

“The day we met I knew there was something different about you. When you walked in, I was floored. I almost couldn’t do my job because I was so lost in your eyes,” you say with a sweet laugh. You reach your hand up to cup her cheek, smiling up at her adoringly. “And then our hands touched, and it felt like it was just you and me. Like we were meant to be there together. I didn’t think my feelings could grow even further, but every time we talk I just want more. More time to talk to you, more time to look at you – just more of you.”

“I was yours the moment we met,” she murmurs while leaning down before pausing halfway. “Is this okay?”

Instead of answering, you close the distance. Your lips meet as you wrap your arms around her neck.

She wraps her arms around your waist, like she originally wanted to when she took your apron off but couldn’t find the courage to. Wanting to be as close to you as possible – finding it just wasn’t enough.

She lightly bites your lower lip, asking permission. You part your lips, allowing her tongue access as she starts walking you backwards slowly against the wall. Your bodies pressed tightly together as she leaves you breathless.

With one kiss, Natasha was already addicted. Feeling like she couldn’t get enough of you. You had her in a haze and she wanted to be as close to you as possible. She slowly dragged her hands under your shirt. Feeling the warmth of your bare skin as she held your waist. She pulled her head back slightly to look at you. Gazing at you with a wordless question that you understood immediately. 

You lean your forehead against her shoulder and murmur, “I want you.”

“I’m yours,” she says, sliding her hands down to the back of thighs and lifting you. Carrying you towards her bedroom.

You let out a startled laugh. Kissing below her ear as she lays you down onto the bed.

She leans down on top of you, supporting her weight with one arm as she gazes at you lovingly.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper. Your cheeks heating up from her gaze.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the only thing that matters.”

“Maybe you are.” She leans down to kiss your neck. You jolt, feeling her lips suction onto your neck, leaving her mark on you. 

She brings her hand down to the hem of your shirt, looking up from where she’s leaving another mark, asking for permission silently.

You sit up, allowing her to slide your shirt off. She looks at you like she can’t help herself before reaching behind you for your bra clasp. Looking at you to see if it was okay.

“I trust you, Natasha,” you say before brushing your lips against hers. Hoping she understood that you wanted to give her everything.

You hear the click of the clasp being released as the straps of your bra loosen. She slides them off your arms and tosses your bra aside. She presses her hand to your shoulder, laying you back down.

She gazes down at you adoringly before murmuring, "Gorgeous.” She leans down, kissing between your breasts before turning her head to take one of your nipples in her mouth. 

It wasn’t your first time, but everything with Natasha felt different. New. Like your sensitivity got turned up a few notches. You felt yourself reacting to every swipe of her tongue. The pressure of her fingers gripping your breast. All culminating into the growing wetness you felt between your legs.

You weren’t the only one reacting. You could feel her length pressing against your thigh through her jeans. Your shaky breaths when she would lick your nipple and sharp intakes of breath when she would suck a bit harder drove her crazy. 

She gave your other breast the same attention before kissing down to your stomach. Covering every inch of you with kisses like she were on a mission.

You tugged on her jacket, wanting to feel her warmth more clearly.

She slips out of her jacket, taking off her shirt and bra in the process. You admire her body openly and wrap your hand around one of her biceps. No wonder she was able to carry everything with ease when helping you. Her strong muscles flex in your grasp.

She hides her flushed cheeks in your neck as she moves her hand downwards. Her fingertips resting on the button of your pants. 

Kissing over the marks she made, she undoes the button of your pants and zipper and slides your pants off. She drags her fingers over your underwear until she reaches the spot where your arousal has gathered. You were already soaking and she hadn’t even truly began.

She let out a breath against your neck before leaning back to drag your underwear down your legs. A string of your arousal shining as she fully removes them.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she mutters.

Her thumb presses lightly against your clit and you twitch from the sensitivity. She presses harder and circles her thumb, forcing a moan out of you.

“Mmm-” Your cheeks heat up from hearing yourself and move to cover your mouth.

Natasha grabs your wrist and presses it into the bed. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. I love the sounds you make. Let me keep hearing them,” she whispers while her fingertips move downward until she’s at your entrance.

She doesn’t give you a moment to feel shy before swirling your arousal on her middle and ring finger. She looks up, looking for approval.

You give her a small nod, feeling safe with her.

Her fingers slowly enter you and you feel yourself tighten at the intrusion. She rubs circles into your hip to ease you and you feel yourself relax.

She starts slowly, setting a leisurely pace. Her fingers drag against the spot inside you that forces breathless moans out of you. You feel her thumb return to its spot on your clit, continuing its ministrations from earlier while thrusting her fingers into you faster.

You feel your mind become hazier as you get closer to reaching your peak. A part of you wants more of her. To be full of her.

You reach towards her, touching her cheek. “Nat,” you say breathlessly. 

Her fingers pause – eyes filled with worry that she might’ve hurt you. “Is everything okay baby?”

“Everything is okay,” you say, trying to ease her worries. Shyly looking down, you bite your lip. Finally peeking up to see her looking at you with a mix of worry and adoration. Your chest fills with warmth as you find the courage to say, “I don’t want to cum without you inside of me. I want to be even closer to you.”

It’s like a switch flips in Natasha as she eases her fingers out from inside of you and begins unbuttoning her jeans. 

You could see how hard she was from how her cock was straining against her boxers, creating a tent. You reached out, rubbing her length through the fabric and noting how thick she was. She inhales sharply at the feeling.

You push her boxers down, not being able to be patient anymore, as her cock springs free and hits her stomach. You could see the head of her cock glistening as precum dribbled down her length. 

You lay back down as she shuffles forward until her shaft is rubbing against you. She slides herself on your slit, gathering slick and bumping against your clit as she thrusts upwards.

Your arousal was down to your inner thighs from how turned on you were.  It didn’t take long for her cock to be covered in you and she lines herself up to your entrance.

She cups your face with her hand, rubbing her thumb across your cheek. 

“I’ll take it slow. You let me know whenever something doesn’t feel right, okay?” She looks at you seriously.

You wrap your arms around her neck to pull her closer to you so you’re face to face, Leaning up the rest of the way you kiss the corner of her mouth. Smiling against her lips you respond, “I promise I will.”

She brings you into a deep kiss – slowly beginning to press herself into you. The stretch feeling impossible at the beginning. You suddenly feel grateful that Natasha had stretched you out a bit earlier.  

She makes her way into you. Inch by inch. You grip her biceps as she continues. The head of her cock finally hitting the deepest part of you. The sound of your pants filling the room.

She rests her face against your neck. Staying still to allow you to accommodate to her size. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” she breathes out.

“I’m that good already?” you say playfully through uneven breaths.

She pauses for a moment before pulling out halfway and thrusting back into you with force. You release a startled moan.

“I’m that good already?” she says looking at you with a smirk.

“The absolute bestest,” you say with a teasing glint in your eyes.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. She presses her lips against yours and you feel yourselves both smiling into the kiss. Her hips gradually move away from yours as she begins a slow, but steady pace.

Everything with Natasha felt perfect. Her caring demeanor, the way she looked at you like you were her world, even the random playful banter when you were making love. You wanted everyday and every moment for the rest of your life to be with her.

You feel the stretch start to feel more manageable, Natasha reading your expression, increases her tempo. Hitting the exact spot inside you that makes you feel like you’re losing control with every thrust.

You feel tears start pooling and falling down the sides of your cheeks at how intense everything felt. At the overwhelming adoration you have for her. At the love you feel building for her, even in the short amount of time you’ve known each other – knowing that this love would only continue to grow.

She wipes your tears away, matching your expression of love for her as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. You memorize her face at this moment, cheeks slightly flushed, pupils dilated, her red hair disheveled, but most of all – her tender expression.  Like she was memorizing you too.

Your hands grip the sheets as you feel your climax steadily approaching. She reaches for your hands, uncurling your fingers and interlocking them with hers. She presses your hands into the bed on both sides of your head as shifts to change her angle, hitting even deeper inside you. You wrap your legs around her waist, wanting her closer to you.

Your moans reverberate next to her ear, her strokes becoming erratic. Too lost in your pleasure to feel smug about the effect you have on her.

“I’m close, baby,” she groans, trying to make the moment last longer. Unsure of where to finish.

You wrap your legs tighter around her waist. You look up at her with pleading eyes.  “Inside please. It’s okay.”

That sets something off inside of Natasha – gripping your hands tighter, her thrusts shallow but don’t lose their intensity. Your walls tightening around her as you sit on the verge of climaxing.

“Fuck, baby-” she moans shakily before making a final rough thrust, reaching as deep as you can allow.

You feel the warmth of her seed filling you to the brim and beyond. Your legs shake against her waist as you reach your peak. Your vision blurs from the pleasure. Clutching her hands until your knuckles turn white. Letting out a broken moan that sounds like her name.

She murmurs quiet praises into your ear. Making slow thrusts to help you ride out your orgasm. She releases one of your hands to cup your face.

“This feels like a dream,” she whispers, still breathless.

You gently grab her hand, maneuvering it until her palm is resting over your heart. Finally able to speak after coming back down to Earth.

“I’m right here. I’m yours. You have my heart,” you say softly but with conviction.

She leans down, giving you a deep kiss that she hopes conveys her feelings, unable to put them into words.

“And I’m yours. Always, as long as you’ll have me.”

“This coming from my biggest fan?” you question, giving her a mischievous grin.

She throws her head back, letting out an unrestrained laugh at your cheekiness. Yeah, she’s in love, she thinks to herself. 

She gives you a playful smack on your shoulder.

“Domestic violence already!" you shriek dramatically.

“What have I gotten into?” she says, shaking her head trying to give you a disapproving look but failing.

You pull her into a tight hug. “No take backs,” you say softly.

“Never,” she says, holding you tighter. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Now and in the future.”

“Forever,” you whisper, picturing it.

—

The sun casts a red orange glow around your flower shop. Its fading rays shine off the leaves of the flowers, and glint off the shelves.

The bell chimes as a customer enters. Red hair accentuated by the remaining light.

“Is it too late to buy something?” she asks while looking around.

“It’s a bit last minute but I guess I can make an exception,” you respond while hiding a smile. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No thank you. I know exactly what I’m looking for,” she says while grabbing a bouquet of red roses. “I’ll just take these today.”

You ring her up while trying to keep an air of professionalism. “Receipt today?”

“No thank you, ma’am.” Her act finally cracking as she smiles at you. The soft smile she only gives when you two are alone.

She hands you the bouquet, brushing your hair behind your ear. It was longer than it had been a year ago.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” she says softly, voice filled with love.

You rush forward, giving her a kiss that has her stumbling backwards before catching herself. Your eyes shine with love as you look at her.

“I love you too,” you say against her lips.

“Sorry I’m a little late getting out today. Let me just finish up so we can leave for the restaurant,” you say while removing your apron.

“Take your time, gorgeous. We’re in no rush.”

“Maybe if my part time closer showed up on time I would’ve been done already,” you say with faux discontent. Glancing back to give her a pointed look.

She lets out a laugh filled with amusement. “Aren’t they just terrible?”

“Just the worst,” you say while reaching to hold her hand.

You both walk toward the door. She pauses right before, leaning down to give you a sweet kiss before opening the door. You walk out together, looking forward to all the anniversaries, memories, and love that will only continue to grow in the future.

–

This is my first time writing a fanfic. Hopefully I did okay 😅. I haven't done any creative writing since I was in my freshman year of university. I got interested in this fandom late last year and reading other writer's fanfics have brought me a lot of joy. I was originally writing this for myself, but I wanted to maybe give that same joy to others. I have a handful of other fic ideas, so feedback is always appreciated. Sorry if my formatting was poor at times. If you want to see my journey as I improve my writing, please give a follow! Thank you for reading! 😊

[snowseasonss]

shy, so shy

natasha romanoff x f!reader

After months of careful courtship, Natasha's shy omega finally gathers the courage to climb into her lap and ask for the one thing the alpha’s been restraining herself from taking.

summary: smut, p/rn no plot, A/B/O dynamics, alpha!natasha, g!p natasha bc female alphas have dicks, omega!reader, courting to mates, shy reader, top!natasha, bottom!reader

Courting a shy omega requires patience.

Natasha Romanoff has many skills—precision, discipline, control—but patience is not the one people usually expect from her. Still, when it comes to you, it comes easily, because pushing you has never been an option. From the very beginning you startled easily, your gaze dropping whenever attention lingered too long, your voice so quiet Natasha often had to lean closer just to hear you.

Even the first time you met, when the faint sweetness of your scent caught her attention across the room, you had looked like you might bolt the moment she approached.

So Natasha learned quickly to move slowly. She asked before touching you, let her hand hover before resting against your back, and waited for you to lace your fingers through hers first. Every step forward during the months of courtship had been something you chose, not something instinct forced between you.

Sometimes that meant quiet dinners where the most contact you shared was your knee brushing hers under the table, or long walks where your shoulder eventually leaned lightly into her arm. To anyone else it might have seemed like nothing was happening, but Natasha understood what it meant for you to move even an inch closer.

Which is why tonight feels different.

You’re sitting on Natasha’s bed, the thick furs beneath you soft and warm as you wait. The room is dim except for the low glow of a lamp, warm light catching in the red of her hair as she moves around the room with that quiet confidence that always makes your stomach flutter. Your hands rest nervously in your lap while you try not to fidget too much, but your heart has been beating fast since the moment she arrived.

Natasha climbs onto the bed beside you, one knee pressing into the furs as she settles near the edge. The mattress dips under her weight, her presence warm and solid at your side. For a moment she looks toward you, green eyes soft but attentive, before turning slightly to reach toward the nightstand behind her.

It’s such a small movement. Just a brief twist of her shoulders as she leans away to grab something. But it gives you exactly the moment you need.

Before you can overthink it, before the courage slips through your fingers, you shift forward. Your hands land lightly on her shoulders as you climb into her lap in one quick, nervous motion.

Natasha freezes.

The thing she’d been reaching for is forgotten as she slowly straightens beneath you, eyes lifting to meet yours. For a moment she doesn’t move at all, clearly surprised to find you suddenly sitting there, perched awkwardly in her lap with your cheeks already burning.

Your fingers twist nervously in the fabric of her shirt.

Natasha’s hands hover for a second before settling carefully at your hips, steadying you so you don’t immediately retreat. Her touch is warm and grounding, thumbs brushing lightly along your sides as she studies your face.

Her voice drops softer when she speaks.

“Sweetheart…”

Your gaze drops instantly to her collarbone, heat flooding your face as you try to force the words out. You’ve imagined this moment for days, practiced what you might say, but now that you’re here everything feels tangled in your chest.

You swallow.

“Natasha,” you mumble quietly.

She waits.

That’s the thing about her—she always waits. Your fingers curl tighter in her shirt as you finally manage to say it, voice barely above a whisper.

“Will you… make me your mate?”

For a moment the room goes completely still.

Natasha doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, green eyes fixed on you as the words sink in. Her hands tighten slightly at your hips, instinct flickering behind her expression before she reins it in again, the way she always does.

You feel suddenly exposed sitting there in her lap, heart racing as you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing, if you’ve rushed something you shouldn’t have.

“Sorry,” you add quickly, voice small. “I just thought— I mean— if you didn’t want to—”

Natasha’s hand lifts from your hip then, fingers sliding gently beneath your chin.

She tilts your face up just enough so you have to look at her. The expression on her face is something deeper than surprise now.

Something warm. Something almost reverent.

“Omega,” she murmurs softly, thumb brushing along your jaw,

Your breath catches. Natasha exhales slowly, her forehead lowering until it almost touches yours. The scent of you—nervous, sweet, hopeful—fills her senses in a way that makes her chest tighten.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

As Natasha's words wash over you, a soft, relieved sigh escapes your lips, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Her thumb continues to trace the line of your jaw, her breath warm against your face. You lean into her touch, your body relaxing incrementally. When you open your eyes again, there's a newfound confidence in your gaze, a spark that wasn't there before.

You lean in, pressing your lips softly against hers. It's a kiss you've shared many times before, but this time, it's different. This time, it's a promise. Natasha responds instantly, her mouth opening to welcome you in. Her hands leave your hips to wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your fingers release their grip on her shirt, sliding up to tangle in her hair, holding her to you as if afraid she might pull away.

But Natasha has no intention of stopping. Her hands roam your back, her touch firm and sure. She pulls you tighter against her, her body pressing into yours as she rolls her hips, seeking friction. You gasp into her mouth, your body responding instantly, your hips grinding down onto hers. You can feel the hard length of her through her pants, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Natasha's hands slide up your abdomen, her fingers tracing the curve of your breasts through your clothes. You whimper, your body arching into her touch. She takes the hint, her hands moving to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off in one smooth motion. Her gaze drops to your chest, her eyes darkening with desire. She leans down, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin, licking a hot trail up your neck.

You moan, your head falling back to give her better access. Her hands cup your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden into peaks. You grind down onto her again, seeking more, needing more. Natasha chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. She pushes you back onto the bed, her body following yours down.

She sits back on her heels, her gaze roaming over your body. You blush under her scrutiny, your hands moving to cover your face. Natasha reaches out, gently pulling your hands away.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart," she murmurs. "You're beautiful."

She leans down, her tongue flicking out to taste your nipple. You gasp, your hips lifting off the bed. She chuckles again, her hands moving to your pants, pulling them down your legs. You're left in your panties, your body on full display. You blush again, but Natasha's gaze is full of appreciation.

She leans down, her tongue licking a hot trail up your thigh. You whimper, your hips lifting to meet her. She hooks her fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them aside. She settles between your legs, her breath hot on your core.

You moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. Natasha chuckles, her tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp, your body arching off the bed. She licks and sucks, her fingers sliding inside you, curling to hit that sweet spot. You whimper, your body writhing beneath her.

"Mm...! ah... ah! oh!"

Natasha adds another finger, stretching you, preparing you. You're so turned on, so wet, you can feel it coating your thighs. Natasha moans, the sound vibrating through you. She pulls back, her fingers leaving you. You whimper at the loss, your eyes fluttering open to find her stripping off her clothes.

She's naked in seconds, her body lean and muscled. You blush again, your eyes dropping to the hard length of her. She's so big, so thick. You're not sure you can take her. Natasha sees the uncertainty in your eyes, leans down to kiss you softly.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "We'll go slow."

She positions herself at your entrance, her hands gripping your hips. You take a deep breath, your eyes fluttering closed as she pushes inside. You gasp, your body stretching to accommodate her. She's big, bigger than anything you've ever felt. She pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust.

You whimper, your fingers digging into her arms. She leans down, her lips finding yours, her tongue sliding into your mouth. The kiss distracts you, makes you relax. She pushes in the rest of the way, her hips meeting yours. You moan into her mouth, your body clenching around her.

Natasha starts to move, her hips pulling back and pushing forward in a slow, steady rhythm. You moan, your body meeting hers, your hips lifting to take her deeper. She growls, her pace picking up, her thrusts becoming harder, more insistent.

You're panting now, your body writhing beneath hers. You can feel the pressure building, your body tensing as you get closer and closer to the edge. Natasha leans down, her teeth sinking into your neck, marking you as hers. You cry out, your body convulsing as you come, your orgasm ripping through you.

Natasha continues to move, her body grinding into yours. You can feel her growing inside you, her knot locking you together. Your wet cunt stretched around the spot on her dick that keeps swelling. She's obsessed with watching you wrap around her, spreading around her knot before she reaches a point she cannot pull out. She leans down, her teeth sinking into your neck again, this time deeper, marking you as her mate. You cry out, your body convulsing again as another orgasm rips through you.

You're panting, your body boneless as Natasha leans down to kiss you softly. "I love you, omega," she murmurs. You smile, your eyes fluttering closed as you drift off to sleep, Natasha's body still locked with yours, her arms wrapped protectively around you. "I love you..."

note: this is a quick smut one shot, no plot really. whoops

[just-aake]

Whispered in Russian Part 3

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Part 3 of Whispered in Russian. Natasha taught you Russian, so it shouldn't be that hard to teach her daughter.

A/N: this was inspired from a request. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: fluff, suggestive themes, pregnancy talks, Russian translations from google

Words: 6137

Natasha takes a slow breath, rolling her shoulders once and cracking her neck like she’s about to prepare for battle.

“Alright,” she says gravely, eyes narrowing as she lifts the spoon. “Final stretch.”

In front of her, perched in the high chair, sits her one-year-old daughter, Lena, who’s far too interested in everything except the spoon. Green eyes, unmistakably like hers, track Natasha’s movements with intense curiosity. One small hand grips the edge of her bib, fisting the fabric like she’s bracing herself.

She lets out a soft, questioning babble, something between a coo and a complaint.

Natasha’s expression softens instantly.

“Ne volnuisya (Don’t worry),” she murmurs, her Russian slipping in without thought, the cadence low and soothing. “My spravimsya (We’ve got this).”

The effect is immediate. Lena giggles, feet kicking lightly as she pats the tray in front of her with growing excitement.

That earns a quiet smile from Natasha, pride flickering across her face before she schools it into mock seriousness again. She raises the spoon carefully and opens her mouth wide.

“Ahhh…”

Lena blinks once and then mirrors her perfectly, mouth opening in a delighted, exaggerated “ah,” chin tipped up expectantly.

Natasha bites back a laugh as she guides the spoon forward steadily. The food disappears without incident.

“There we go,” she murmurs, gentle as she wipes the faintest smear from Lena’s chin with her thumb.

No mess. No spills. A miracle.

Natasha sets the spoon down with a satisfied plop and claps her hands once in triumph.

“Molodets, zayka moya! (Well done, my little bunny!),” she coos.

Lena’s face lights up. She squeals and immediately claps too, enthusiastic and wildly off-rhythm.

“Oh?” you call as you step out from the hallway. “And what did our little Lena do?”

Natasha looks up immediately and rises to meet you, pressing a familiar kiss to your cheek before answering, pride warm in her voice. 

“She finished her entire breakfast with no mess.”

As if summoned by the praise, Lena continues clapping, clearly still riding the high of her accomplishment.

Natasha glances back at her daughter and nods solemnly.

“Da, molodets (Yes, well done),” she affirms, as though addressing a fellow Avenger after a successful mission.

Lena beams, kicks her feet against the chair, and squeals again.

You laugh under your breath, warmth filling your chest until Natasha’s attention shifts back to you, and her smile falters. Her eyes drop, taking in the unmistakable sight of your SHIELD uniform.

“Where are you going?”

You wince a little, already feeling guilty about the whole situation.

“Something’s acting up in the security system,” you explain. “They need me to take a look. It shouldn’t take long.”

Natasha leans back against the counter, folding her arms across her chest.

“What about breakfast?”

You wave a hand lightly, stepping a half-step farther from the stove, where the scrambled eggs sit waiting in the pan. Your face scrunches faintly at the usually rich and buttery smell that now suddenly feels overwhelming.

“It’s okay. I’m not really hungry,” you say.

Natasha’s brows furrow deeper.

“You’re always hungry in the morning.”

You offer a small apologetic shrug.

“Guess my stomach’s feeling weird today.”

That doesn’t reassure her at all. Natasha’s eyes sharpen, scanning you head to toe. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t go then,” she says, voice lowering in concern, before her lips twist slightly, disappointment slipping through before she can hide it. “Plus, I thought we could start on the Russian lessons today with Lena.”

From the high chair, Lena watches the two of you closely. Then suddenly, she crosses her arms too. It’s less intimidating and more like she’s hugging herself, but the intent to copy her mother is unmistakable.

She follows it up with a dramatic raspberry in your direction.

You gasp softly, pressing your hand to your chest as if wounded. 

“Nu vy moi malyshi…(Oh, my poor little babies…),” you say, looking at the two of them with pouts on their faces.  

You cup Natasha’s cheeks first and pull her closer, kissing the tip of her nose, then her cheek, and then finally her lips, lingering just long enough to feel her soften beneath it.

“Prostite menya? (Forgive me?),” you whisper against her lips.

For a second, Natasha remains firm in her stance before she exhales, resignation already creeping in, and shakes her head.

“Your Russian,” she mutters. “It’s becoming a dangerous weapon.”

You smirk, pressing one more kiss to her lips. 

“I learn from the best,” you tease.

Then you turn your attention to the other Romanoff in the room.

“And what about you, hm?” you murmur, crouching just slightly so you’re at her eye level. “Does my little Lena want a hug from her mommy?”

The answer is immediate. Lena’s arms shoot forward, fingers opening and closing urgently as she babbles with determined insistence. There’s no hesitation in her actions, just complete confidence that you’ll hold her.

You lift her easily and spin once in place. 

Lena lets out a delighted shriek, head tipping back as laughter spills freely from her, one tiny hand clutching at your collar as the other wraps around your shoulder.

Natasha watches the exchange with a long but fond, exaggerated sigh.

“I can’t believe she folded instantly,” she says, shaking her head. 

You grin, pressing your forehead gently to Lena’s. 

“Well, she’s just copying you,” you say softly. “Aren’t you? Copying your mama?”

“Mmm,” Lena hums happily, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, and then she promptly shoves a fistful of your uniform collar straight into her mouth.

“Ah. Nope,” Natasha says immediately, stepping in. She carefully pries the damp fabric free and scoops Lena back into her arms. “We are not eating tactical gear today.”

She settles Lena against her hip, then looks back at you. The humor fades just enough to reveal something steadier underneath.

“Be careful,” she says seriously.

You smile, light and reassuring, even as you reach for your keys. 

“I’m just going to headquarters.”

Natasha steps closer anyway. She rests her forehead against yours, eyes closing for a brief second, as if anchoring herself with your presence.

“Still,” she whispers. “Ya tebya lyublyu. (I love you.)”

You open your mouth to reply, but a small hand presses against your cheek first.

“Mmbuhmm,” Lena echoes solemnly from between the two of you, clearly convinced she’s participated correctly.

You laugh softly and press a kiss to Lena’s chubby cheek before leaning in to kiss Natasha, gentler and lingering, pulling away only until you feel her hum of satisfaction.

“I’ll see you two tonight,” you say.

At the door, you pause and look back once more. 

Natasha stands in the kitchen holding Lena, both of them watching you like it’s the most natural thing in the world to wait for you to come home.

You give them a little wave, and then the door closes behind you. 

The quiet settles in quickly afterwards.

Almost immediately, Natasha feels Lena shift in her arms. She looks down and sees it—the glassy eyes, the way her bottom lip trembles just slightly as she stares at the spot where you’d been.

Natasha reacts without hesitation.

“Ya zdes, zayka moya, (I’m here, my little bunny),” she murmurs softly, turning Lena inward so her full attention is pulled away from the door. 

Lena blinks through her blurry eyes, focus snapping back as Natasha’s face fills her vision. Her fingers curl uncertainly against Natasha’s shirt, and she glances once more toward the door before letting out a small, wavering sound.

Natasha bounces her gently, swaying just enough to be comforting.

“Come on,” she says lightly. “Want to go play in your castle?”

That does it. Lena’s eyes widen, interest overriding sadness instantly at the suggestion of playing with one of the many toys the other Avengers have gifted her. She pats Natasha’s shoulder insistently like she’s already decided where they’re headed.

Natasha exhales in quiet relief, a soft laugh slipping free.

“Alright,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss into Lena’s hair as she turns down the hallway. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha carefully eases the baby bottle from Lena’s loose grip, pausing when her daughter makes a tiny sound in her sleep. 

But Lena doesn’t stir any more than that. She remains sprawled comfortably atop her chaotic nest of plush toys, one leg thrown over a stuffed bear, lashes resting softly against flushed cheeks.

Natasha exhales in relief when she sees that Lena is still fast asleep after she completely removes the bottle from her grip. She stays there a moment longer, crouched beside the couch, just watching. The rise and fall of Lena’s chest. The way her fingers twitch occasionally, like she’s chasing something pleasant in her dreams.

Peaceful and safe. 

It still feels unreal. There was a time when Natasha was taught that she could never have something like this. The Red Room made sure of that. Made sure of many things. And yet here she is, kneeling in the quiet of her own living room, watching her daughter nap without fear.

Her little miracle. 

A soft chime breaks the silence.

Natasha’s head snaps up instantly, spine straightening as every instinct she’s ever honed clicks into place. The security notification echoes faintly through the house, indicating there’s movement at the front door camera.

She glances back at Lena, still soundly asleep.

Careful not to make a sound, Natasha rises and slips her hand into a hidden compartment along the wall. Her fingers curl easily around the grip of a handgun as she moves toward the entryway.

At the security panel, she taps the live feed. Her shoulders drop immediately. She tucks the weapon away with an irritated sigh and unlocks the door just as it swings open.

Yelena breezes inside without hesitation, already scanning the house.

“Where is she?” Yelena demands, eyes darting from room to room.

Natasha shuts the door behind her with an exasperated sigh.

“Hi, Yelena,” she says dryly. “Nice to see you. My day’s been fine, thanks for asking.”

Yelena reappears from the hallway and gives her a flat look.

“If I wanted to see you, I would’ve just called,” she says, planting her hands on her hips. “Now, where is my niece?”

Natasha rolls her eyes and turns toward the living room.

Yelena follows and pauses when she sees Lena bundled among blankets and plush toys.

“She’s napping,” Natasha reveals.

Her gasp is immediate and offended.

“Ah, suka, (Ah, bitch),” she says sharply, shooting Natasha a glare. “You changed her nap schedule.”

“I did not,” Natasha replies, leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed. “She just wore herself out faster today.”

Before Yelena can argue, a soft, sleepy sound drifts up from the couch.

“Mmm…shu…ka…”

The world stops. Natasha and Yelena stand frozen, staring at each other with increasingly horrified and panicked expressions.

Yelena breaks first, exhaling deeply. 

“Oh shi—”

Natasha’s hand clamps over Yelena’s mouth with lightning speed.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses.

Slowly, they both lean over the couch and look down.

Lena is sitting up now, hair tousled, eyes heavy with sleep but very much open. She blinks at them curiously, then presses her tiny hand over her mouth, mimicking her mama’s action.

Natasha immediately lowers her hand from Yelena’s face.

“Maybe,” Yelena whispers carefully, “we heard wrong.”

Natasha gives her a warning glare. Then she moves quickly to Lena, scooping her up with practiced gentleness.

“Hey, zayka moya (my little bunny),” Natasha murmurs softly, smoothing a hand over Lena’s hair. “Did we wake you?”

Lena rubs at her eyes, then squints at Natasha. Her gaze drifts to Yelena, and then back to Natasha.

“Su…ka,” she mumbles hesitantly.

Natasha’s smile freezes for one second before she adjusts Lena against her shoulder, cradling the back of her head protectively to keep her from seeing her true feelings on her face. She looks over her daughter’s shoulder.

The glare she gives Yelena is lethal.

I am going to kill you, she mouths.

Yelena lifts both hands instantly. 

“You said she was asleep!”

“You’re going to help me fix this,” Natasha says calmly despite everything, rocking Lena back and forth while internally spiraling.

“How?” Yelena asks. “She already said it.”

Natasha starts pacing as she thinks.

You cannot find out that your daughter’s first word is a Russian curse word. That simply cannot happen.

“I just need to teach her something else,” Natasha decides aloud.

She stops and turns Lena to face her.

“Right, Lena?” she says gently. “You’ll learn a different word for mama.”

Lena babbles happily in response, then reaches toward Yelena, making grabby hands.

Natasha sighs as Yelena takes her.

“I don’t know,” Yelena says, bouncing Lena lightly and poking her side until she giggles. “You can’t really control what she says. She’s a baby.”

Natasha rubs a hand over her face, then glances at the clock.

You won’t be home for hours. Plenty of time.

“I taught her mother Russian,” Natasha mutters. “I can teach my daughter one different word.”

“Suka! (Bitch!)” Lena chirps brightly, patting Yelena’s cheeks.

Natasha groans, dragging both hands down her face.

Yelena grins.

“This is going to be fun,” she says cheerfully.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It turns out this is not fun. Not even a little.

By the second hour, Yelena’s smug amusement has worn thin, reduced to the occasional snort from the kitchen. By the third, Natasha’s confidence has cracked completely, splintering under the weight of repetition, tiny fists, and one extremely committed toddler mouth.

Now she’s kneeling on the floor beside the couch, one forearm slung over the cushion, her forehead pressed into the fabric in quiet, undignified defeat. The tight braid she’d started the morning with has loosened, strands slipping free to tickle her cheek and cling to her neck with the faint sheen of sweat.

On top of her head sits Lena. Well—half sits, half sprawls.

Lena hugs her mama’s head like it’s a plush toy, chubby cheek mashed into Natasha’s hair as she shoves a determined fistful of red strands straight into her mouth. One socked foot kicks lazily in the air, heel thumping against the couch in an idle, content rhythm.

“Lena,” Natasha pleads, her voice muffled and roughened by fabric. “Please. Say anything else.”

“Mmmmbof,” Lena replies cheerfully into Natasha’s hair, and then blows a wet raspberry for emphasis.

Natasha groans.

From the kitchen doorway, Yelena watches the scene with open fascination, leaning against the frame as she crunches loudly on a snack.

“Wow,” she drawls. “Truly groundbreaking teaching methods. How did you ever manage to teach your wife Russian?”

Natasha shifts just enough to breathe, carefully prying her hair from Lena’s grip before lifting both hands to cup the toddler’s ears. She tilts her head just enough to glare at her sister.

“The same way we made Lena,” she says flatly.

Yelena chokes, sputtering and face blanching as she bends forward, one hand braced on the doorframe.

“Ew,” she gasps once she recovers, recoiling dramatically. “You two are lucky that sorcery is required. Otherwise, this place would be crawling with tiny children screaming Russian obscenities.”

Natasha smirks, victorious for exactly half a second, before it softens as she looks back down.

Lena is now copying her. She presses her own tiny hands over Natasha’s, squishing her ears, eyes sparkling with triumph.

Natasha exhales a laugh and slides her hands down to Lena’s cheeks instead, thumbs brushing gently. Lena giggles and squirms, grabbing at her own little boots and rocking in place with uncontained delight.

“Mmmbuv,” Lena babbles happily.

Natasha leans in, resting her forehead against her daughter’s, nose brushing nose.

“Would you like that, zayka moya (my little bunny)?” she murmurs. “A little sister. Just like Aunt Yelena. Causing you trouble every time she visits.”

“Hey!” Yelena protests, abandoning the doorway to lean her forearms over the back of the couch.

Lena laughs at the raised voice and turns toward her aunt, face lighting up.

“Suka (Bitch),” she announces proudly.

Yelena snorts and lifts her hand for a high-five.

“You said it.”

Natasha slaps Yelena’s hand away mid-air without looking.

“Don’t encourage it.”

Before Yelena can retaliate, a phone rings, echoing in the room.

Natasha freezes for half a beat before reaching into her pocket. She glances at the screen, displaying your name, and answers immediately, her voice smoothing into practiced calm despite her internal panic.

“Hey,” she greets casually.

“How are my two favorite girls?” you ask.

Natasha’s eyes flick down to Lena, who is staring at the phone with far too much interest. Natasha subtly turns away, covering the microphone with her palm in case the little girl gets any idea to blurt out her new favorite word.

“Everything’s good,” she says quickly. “She napped early. And Yelena’s been here.”

“Uh oh,” you tease.

Despite your kidding tone, Natasha’s stomach drops anyway, panic flaring sharp and fast.

“There’s no ‘uh oh,’” she says too fast. “Everything is fine.”

“Smooth,” Yelena whispers.

Natasha shoots her a warning look.

“…Okay,” you say slowly, skepticism bleeding through just enough to make Natasha wince. She’s already mentally rehearsing how to recover when you speak again.

“Actually, I called to see if you can bring me the USB drive from my desk? I need it to override some stuff here, but I forgot to bring it with me.”

Relief hits her like a wave at the change of subject.

Natasha glances back at Lena, who is now wielding a plush toy like a weapon while Yelena defends herself with another, dramatically collapsing every time she’s struck.

“Sure,” Natasha says. “I’ll ask Yelena to watch Lena.”

“I got her!” Yelena calls, already scooping Lena up.

Natasha gives her a thumbs-up before returning her attention to you.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, Natasha.”

She exhales, shoulders finally loosening in relief. Then your voice comes back, softer, quieter.

“Ya tebya lyublyu. (I love you.)”

Natasha melts instantly, ducking her head to hide the smile that spreads across her face.

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu (I love you too),” she replies, warm and sincere.

She ends the call and turns, only to find Lena staring at her, transfixed, like her eyes are absorbing every little interaction.

Natasha pastes on a reassuring smile and presses a kiss to Lena’s hair before moving to grab the USB from your desk. When she comes back, Lena is giggling in Yelena’s arms, delighted by ridiculous faces and exaggerated noises.

Moving towards the front, Natasha slips on her jacket and grabs her keys, then stops in sudden realization.

Laughter is no longer echoing in the home. 

Natasha turns back around to find Lena’s eyes locked on her.

She isn’t squirming playfully in Yelena’s arms anymore. Instead, her little hands are clasped in front of her chest, fingers twisting together like she’s holding herself together. 

With her mama’s gaze on her, her lower lip trembles. Not a cry yet, just the fragile warning of one. Meanwhile, tears begin to pool, bright and unshed.

Something in Natasha’s chest cracks clean through.

She crosses the room in three quick strides and takes Lena without a word, pulling her close.

“Nope,” Natasha mutters, already adjusting her against her shoulder. “We’re going together.”

Lena exhales shakily and melts into her, fingers clutching at Natasha’s jacket as she buries her face into her collarbone.

Natasha grabs Lena’s jacket and little hat, bundling her up with efficient tenderness.  

When she finishes, Lena clings to her tighter, arms wrapped firmly around her neck.

Yelena leans against the hallway wall, watching quietly.

“What if she says it in front of her?” she finally asks.

Natasha opens the door and glances back coolly.

“Then I’m telling her it’s your fault.”

“Hey—!”

The door shuts. Behind it, Yelena huffs before shuddering at the thought of facing your wrath.

“Ah,” she mutters. “Suka (bitch).”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha chuckles under her breath as Lena arches backward in her arms, nearly upside down, her tiny boots kicking the air happily. The lights of the SHIELD headquarters reflect in her bright eyes while she twists left, then right, offering enthusiastic waves to every agent who so much as glances her way.

Each returned wave earns a delighted squeal.

“Careful, Lena,” Natasha murmurs, though there’s no real bite to it. One arm stays firm around the toddler’s waist while the other braces her back, years of balance and instinct making the movement effortless. “You’re going to launch yourself at some point.”

Lena only giggles harder, flopping dramatically in the opposite direction as if to test the theory.

Eventually, Natasha eases her upright again, cradling her securely against her shoulder as they step into the control room. The hum of computers and overlapping voices fills the space, screens glowing in neat rows.

The sudden change in stimulation seems to settle Lena. She relaxes almost instantly, pressing her cheek against Natasha’s shoulder, thumb brushing absently against the collar of her jacket.

“Mma…mmbu,” she mumbles into the fabric.

Natasha turns her head slightly, brushing her lips over Lena’s temple.

“What was that, zayka moya (my little bunny)?”

Lena lifts her head, clearly preparing to repeat her gibberish, but she’s interrupted.

“Well, look who decided to finally come for a visit.”

Natasha doesn’t need to turn to know that voice.

Tony Stark steps away from a cluster of agents hunched over a console, a playful smirk already in place. He tugs lightly at the cuffs of his jacket as he approaches, hands slipping into his pockets.

He nods once at Natasha in greeting. 

“Romanoff.”

Then he tilts his head dramatically at Lena.

“Mini Romanoff.”

Lena beams at the attention and claps wildly, the sound echoing faintly in the control room.

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Tony?”

He hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward the console behind him.

“Well, when your wife couldn’t figure out what was wrong, she called me to take over,” he says with exaggerated humility. “At least someone recognizes my genius.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow slightly. That’s strange. You wouldn’t just give up on a problem like that.

Lena watches the shift in her mama’s expression closely. Her little brows furrow in concentration as she studies Natasha’s face, processing it.

Then, with perfect timing and confidence, she looks at Tony and points her finger at him.

“Suka (Bitch).”

The word rings out far clearer than any of her previous babbles. The room instantly goes quiet.

Tony’s eyes widen comically. His head snaps toward Natasha, then back to Lena.

“Nat. You didn’t—”

“I didn’t,” Natasha cuts in firmly, tightening her hold on Lena in immediate defense.

Tony lets out a disbelieving huff of laughter, shaking his head.

“Oh, wait until Captain hears about this.”

Natasha steps forward and grabs the front of his suit, fingers fisting into the fabric near his collar.

“Are you really sure you want to do that?” she asks calmly. Her tone is not loud. It doesn’t need to be for one to hear the threat underneath.

Tony clears his throat, attempting to appear unaffected.

“Kidding. You know I was kidding.”

Unfortunately for him, during the intimidating conversation, Lena found something far more interesting in her observation of her mama.

Before anyone can react, her tiny fist wraps around his tie and yanks hard.

Tony’s composure vanishes as the silk tightens instantly around his throat.

“Uh—Nat—” he chokes, both hands flying up to try and pry her fingers loose. “Your child—she’s—”

Oblivious to his choked gasps, Lena shrieks in delight, swinging the captured tie back and forth like a trophy.

Natasha watches for a moment, just long enough for Tony to suffer, before exhaling through her nose.

“Otpustí, zayka moya (let go, my little bunny),” she murmurs gently against Lena’s hair.

Immediately, Lena freezes mid-swing and turns her head to look at Natasha, surprised. Her free hand floats to her mouth.

“Mmm?” she questions softly.

Natasha gives her a solemn nod.

Lena looks back down at her clenched fist. Then very slowly, her fingers uncurl until the tie drops. She leans forward to watch it fall, then looks up at Tony with wide, innocent eyes.

“Gah?” she offers, like an apology.

Tony attempts to maintain an offended expression. It lasts approximately two seconds before he looks away, rubbing at his throat.

“It’s fine,” he rasps. “I didn’t need to breathe anyway.”

Natasha huffs a small laugh, adjusting Lena higher on her hip. Then she scans the room.

“Now, where’s my wife?”

Tony, still disentangling the abused tie from around his neck, gestures vaguely down the hall.

“She said she wasn’t feeling good, so she went to the medical bay.”

Natasha straightens immediately, the humor draining from her face.

“Why did you tell me that sooner?” Natasha demands.

Tony waves the wrinkled tie at her.

“Because I was being strangled by your daughter.”

Lena claps proudly at that, clearly interpreting it as praise.

Natasha’s lips twitch despite herself, but the smile fades quickly.

You hadn’t said anything about feeling worse when you called her. 

“Mma..mm?” Lena questions as she observes the frown on her mama’s face.

Natasha presses a gentle, reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple.

“Come on,” she murmurs softly. “Let’s go find your mommy.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha hears your voice before she sees you. She’s just rounding the corner outside the medical bay doors, Lena balanced comfortably on her hip, when your tone carries down the hallway.

“And I’m telling you, it’s not possible.”

Inside, Dr. Cho sighs, patient but clearly at the end of her explanations. 

“Look. I don’t know about the mystical parts of the process. You’d have to consult with Doctor Strange about that. However, I do know the medical parts. And the results are clear. You’re—”

“Natasha!” you call abruptly.

Natasha steps into view just as you straighten on the edge of the medical bed, clearly having cut Dr. Cho off mid-sentence. Your eyes are slightly widened in surprise, almost panicked.

Dr. Cho gives you a look when you subtly wave her away. The kind that says we are not finished. But she merely gathers her tablet and paperwork with composed efficiency before turning to Natasha with a nod.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.”

As she passes, Lena twists in Natasha’s arms to watch her go. Tiny fingers lift in a delayed imitation of a wave.

“Buhba,” she mumbles.

Dr. Cho smiles at the toddler and waves back before slipping out. 

“Oh?” you coo immediately, arms extending toward your daughter with grabby hands. “Is my little Lena trying to say her first word?”

Natasha stiffens almost imperceptibly, eyes darting to Lena in panic. But thankfully, no Russian curse word falls from her lips. Instead, she reaches out to you also.

“Mmm,” Lena coos excitedly.

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Natasha crosses the room and gently transfers Lena into your waiting arms. The toddler immediately melts against your chest with a contented hum, one hand fisting into your shirt.

Natasha watches the two of you for a long, fond second. Then reality returns. She steps closer and presses the back of her hand to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly. “Stark said you weren’t feeling too great.”

You press your lips together before nodding.

“I’m fine.”

You don’t look at her. Instead, you adjust Lena in your lap, smoothing her hair, kissing the top of her head.

Nothing about the way you responded and how you’re acting reassures her at all. Natasha crosses her arms.

A beat later, Lena crosses hers too, looking up at you expectantly.

Between the two of them, you stand no chance. You glance briefly at Natasha before adding softly, “It’s nothing, really. Just some nausea.”

Her eyes narrow.

You shift, looking everywhere but at her.

That’s all the confirmation she needs.

You sigh when you glance back at her once more and see the look that tells you she’s caught you.

Resigned, you pat the spot beside you.

Natasha sits without a word.

“Mmm?” Lena coos curiously when you pass her back. 

Natasha settles cross-legged on the bed beside you, placing Lena in her lap, arms wrapped securely around her little body.

She waits as Lena also fixes you with a similar curious expression.

You inhale deeply.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago,” you begin slowly, “when Lena got sick, and we stayed home to take care of her?”

Natasha’s hold tightens instinctively around the toddler at the memory. Feverish cheeks. Sleepless nights. Cold cloths and whispered lullabies.

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“Well…I was supposed to go see Doctor Strange that week for my usual appointment. But I forgot. Everything was so chaotic. Lena had the fever. We weren’t sleeping.”

Your words start to tumble over each other.

Natasha reaches forward and takes your hand, her thumb tracing slow, steady circles over your knuckles. The simple motion calms you instantly.

A second later, a smaller hand settles halfway over hers and halfway over yours.

You laugh softly, giving Lena’s hand a grateful pat before lifting your gaze back to Natasha.

“Do you remember,” you ask carefully, “after that…when Lena spent the weekend with your parents?”

Natasha’s mouth curves into a slow smile. Her thumb slides to the inside of your palm, pressing there with deliberate pressure.

“I definitely remember that,” she murmurs, her voice dropping lower.

You huff at her, warmth rising into your cheeks, but the smile fades as your eyes fall to your tangled hands. You swallow, steadying yourself, gathering your nerve.

“Natasha,” you say gently.

She tilts her head to meet your lowered gaze. 

“I’m pregnant.”

The words settle between you, and everything in the room seems to still.

Stunned, Natasha simply blinks, still processing the revelation. Her gaze drops to your stomach, then lifts back to your eyes, searching your face as if trying to decide whether your words are real.

“Natasha?” you prompt softly, waving your fingers in front of her face.

“Mmma?” Lena adds, peering up at her mother’s stunned expression. She reaches up and pats Natasha’s cheek insistently.

That breaks the spell.

Natasha exhales.

“Wow,” she breathes. “I…wow.”

You smile nervously and lift your hand to cup her cheek.

“Ya lishil tebya dara rechi, lyubov moya? (Have I left you speechless, my love?)”

A soft laugh escapes her. She brings your hand to her lips and kisses your knuckles.

“Vsegda. (Always.)”

Her green eyes steady on yours.

“How do you feel?” she asks quietly.

You look down at your hands in your lap.

“Surprised,” you admit. “Though that explains the recent morning nausea.”

Natasha’s expression shifts immediately, protective instinct snapping into place.

“And I thought it was my cooking,” she says lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Now that I know, I’ll make you something for it tomorrow morning.”

You smile gratefully. Then your fingers start picking at the edge of the med bed.

“I’m also…embarrassed,” you confess. “I should’ve been more careful. Especially since magic is involved in all of this.”

You gesture between the two of you and point at Lena, who tilts her head curiously at you.

Natasha takes both your hands firmly, stopping the anxious motion.

“Hey.” Her voice is steady. “Don’t forget that I had some responsibility in this, too.”

You laugh softly before intertwining your fingers with hers and pulling her hands close to your chest.

“And honestly…” You hesitate. “I’m a little excited.”

You look up at her, a vulnerable expression on your face as you gauge her reaction.

“But what do you think?”

Natasha glances down at Lena, who is staring at her intently, head tilted, thumb resting against her mouth.

“Mmm?” Lena prompts.

Natasha smiles. Then she looks back at you without any doubt or hesitation.

“I’d love to have another child with you.”

Her hand cups your cheek. She leans forward and kisses you softly. When she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours.

“Ya tebya lyublyu. (I love you.)”

You smile, but before you can respond, a tiny hand wedges between your faces, patting Natasha’s cheek insistently.

“Mmmbuv…mmam,” Lena babbles.

You laugh and gently cup her cheeks.

“I think she’s trying to copy her mama again.”

Natasha pauses and remembers how Lena has been watching her all day while babbling what she initially thought was just gibberish, but now she wonders. She tilts her head and meets Lena’s gaze directly. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu (I love you),” she says, slow and clear.

Lena’s brows knit together in fierce concentration before she reaches up and cups Natasha’s cheeks in both hands.

“Lu…bu,” she says proudly.

Natasha’s smile grows, and she nods, repeating the word more slowly. 

“Lyu–blyu.”

Lena presses her lips together, studying Natasha carefully, and then suddenly dissolves into giggles.

“Lyublyu, mama.”

Everything stills. Natasha’s breath catches before a soft, disbelieving laugh escapes her as she pulls Lena close, pressing kisses into her hair.

“Molodets, zayka moya (Well done, my little bunny),” she affirms proudly.

Lena giggles, clapping her hands happily. The sight fills her with pride and excitement.

“Well,” Natasha murmurs thickly, glancing at you over Lena’s head, her eyes shining, “I guess we’re doing this again then.”

You scoot closer, resting your head on her shoulder while your hand gently brushes over Lena’s hair.

“You’re a good mom, Natasha,” you say quietly, knowing how much she worried the first time you had Lena.

Natasha leans into you, humming softly in contentment as Lena plays with both of your hands. The moment settles into a warm, peaceful stillness until Natasha suddenly stiffens.

“Actually…” she begins, a nervous edge creeping into her voice. “I have a confession.”

You lift your head, looking at her curiously.

She winces a little before admitting, “Those weren’t Lena’s first words. And before I tell you what they were…just know it was Yelena’s fault.”

Your brows rise higher as you wait for her to continue.

Meanwhile, Lena laughs and claps her hands, happily watching the two of you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You move quietly toward the couch, careful to keep your footsteps soft against the floor. The glow from the television washes the room in flickering light, painting everything in slow-moving shadows. Leaning over the back of the couch, you peek down at the two figures curled together.

Natasha is fast asleep, her head tipped slightly to the side, one arm wrapped securely around Lena. The toddler is tucked into her like a tiny echo, cheeks pressed against Natasha’s collarbone, lashes resting heavily against her skin. A blanket has half-slipped to the floor, forgotten sometime during the movie neither of them managed to finish.

Your chest warms at the sight. For a moment, you just watch them breathe, slow, even, and perfectly in sync.

Gently, you reach forward and ease the remote from Natasha’s loose grip. The television clicks off, and the room settles into a softer, quieter hush. You lean farther across the couch to place the remote on the table, careful not to jostle them.

Your face ends up inches from Natasha’s.

Before you can react, she tilts her chin up and steals a kiss, catching your lips in a slow, mischievous press. 

The soft gasp that escapes you only seems to amuse her. You feel the curve of her smirk against your mouth as her hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers warm and familiar as she draws you closer.

You melt into the kiss, one hand bracing against the back of the couch. It lingers, gentle and unhurried, until you finally pull away, resting your forehead against hers. Your breath mingles with hers as you give a quiet shake of your head, a fond reprimand in your eyes.

“Ah, ty melkiy prokaznik (Oh, you little sneak),” you murmur softly. 

Natasha’s smirk widens, her tongue brushing over her lips as though savoring the moment. Her voice drops to a whisper meant only for you.

“Talking to me in Russian is just going to make me want you more.”

You huff a quiet laugh, tapping the tip of her nose lightly.

“Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s bring Lena to her room.”

Your hand slides to her jaw, thumb brushing along the edge of her cheek as you tilt her face up and graze your nose against hers. Your voice lowers, teasing and warm.

“Then you can see how many Russian curse words you can pull from me.”

Her eyes darken instantly, a spark igniting behind them as she watches you straighten.

Carefully, you slip your arms beneath Lena and lift her from Natasha’s embrace. The toddler stirs only slightly, curling instinctively toward your warmth, her small hand fisting into your shirt.

Natasha rises beside you, her palm settling naturally at your waist. With her free hand, she brushes a loose strand of hair from Lena’s sleeping face, her expression softening into something quieter.

Even half-asleep, Lena finds Natasha’s fingers and holds on, tiny grip, stubborn and trusting as she cuddles closer to your chest.

Three heartbeats in this loving home.

And one more on the way.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading!

[juiles]

The daycare worker.

Requested: no lmao. This is for me lmao.

Triggers: none. just pure fluff.

Summary: you are a daycare worker but you are with Nat and Wanda.

A/N: i’m really happy with this. It’s just pure fluff lmao.

—————————————————

Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff were two of the most feared avengers. They were very good at what they did and were easily two of the strongest. They were in a relationship. Everyone knew that. What they didn’t know was their other partner was just a normal person. You. You were just a normal human being with a normal job but your home life was anything but normal. You spent dinners with gods and millionaires. You had movie nights with Nat and Wanda. You had prank wars with Sam and Clint. At the ripe age of 25 you had a very chaotic home life but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Sweetheart.” Natasha woke you gently, one hand smoothing your wild morning hair. “Your shift starts in 30 minutes and you know how Wanda gets if you don’t eat.” She received nothing back except for a small grunt. A laugh bubbled up out of the assassins mouth. “Sorry I don’t speak caveman. Come again?”

You peeked your head up from the comfort of the pillow with a small glare gracing your features. Your blue eyes piercing through the assassins carefully placed facade. She gave a soft smile and booped your nose causing you to scrunch it up before burying your face back into the pillow. “No.” Was all you have the redhead. She sighed.

“I guess I’ll have to call in the big guns.” She said with a smirk settled on her face. “Oh Wanda!” She said a little louder causing the witch to pop her head through the ensuite door. “Someone won’t get out of bed for work.” She smiled seeing a smirk gracing the brunettes face.

Wanda made her way over, you curled up, protecting your stomach knowing fine well she was try and tickle you. “Oh detka.” She said in a sing song voice. Her fingers immediately found a spot in between your chin and shoulders bringing a squeal out of you as your body recoiled from the incoming appendages. Your black bob flopped into your face as you finally looked up at the two in front of you.

“I hate you. Both of you.” You mumbled sitting fully upright pushing the wild hair out of your face. A yawn slid out of your throat as your body stretched upwards, hands in the air, shirt that looked suspiciously like Nats riding up to show your midriff before you relaxed your body again.

“Sure you do babe.” Wanda said pressing a kiss to your head as she went back to the bathroom with a laugh. You glared at her retreating form and Nats form standing in the door frame. “What would you like for breakfast detka?”

“Toast and OJ please…” You said your legs swinging off the bed to finally stand. “Oh protein. Uhm… sausage.” You gave a sweet smile to Nat before making your way into the now vacant bathroom.

You did your morning routine and came out, dressed in some black leggings and a shirt with a dinosaur on it for dino day. Your shirt black hair was clipped up with a T-Rex shaped claw clip and you had T-Rex earrings in. As you stepped out of your room, bag in hand, Tony stopped and stared at you.

“So are you aiming for dino chic or what?” The man said with an eyebrow raised. You laughed and shook your head looking over at the man.

“It’s Dino day Tony. We’re learning all about dinosaurs.” You said as Wanda came up behind you.

“I think you look adorable detka.” The brunette said pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Of course you do.” Tony snorted but ruffled your hair as he continued on his way to his lab. You grunted and as you and Wanda walked to the kitchen together, you fiddled with your hair clip trying to get it to sit right again.

You walked into the kitchen as Nat placed your plate on the counter beside a cup of orange juice. You plopped down at the island and with a mumbled thank you, you started eating. Nat had gotten into the habit of making you breakfast because you had a bad habit of waking up and heading straight for your shift with no breakfast which in your field, meant low energy which didn’t work.

The preschool in the building was how you had meet your girlfriends. They had been walking past one day and saw you. The way you were squatting to the kids level to make eye contact. They way you had been holding the little girls hands as you spoke to her softly. The two women then would go out of their way to walk past the window to catch a glimpse of you. Whether you were cuddling an upset toddler or colouring with the preschoolers, you looked like you fit right into their world.

The way your blue eyes shone when you saw a kid excel in a new activity or the way you watched the kids faces when they learned a new skill. They could see just how much you adored the job you had chosen. It took them 5 months of watching before they finally felt ready to talk to you.

It was wanda who spoke to you first. She had waited outside of the preschool after your shift. You had bumped into her and had immediately started apologizing to the Avenger but all she did was laugh.

The brunette and redhead had intimidated you at first but something about them dragged you in. Something kept you wondering what their next move would be. You had seen them hovering outside the preschool but had no idea it was to catch a glimpse of you. You hated how you looked after work most of the time, your hair was usually everywhere and you always looked tired. They thought it was the cutest thing in the world.

You would spend your evenings with the two women, them enthralled when you spoke about the kids in your care, or as you called them, your kids. The way your eyes would gleam when you spoke of them warmed the women’s hearts.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a hand being placed on your thigh. Your eyes flicked over to the redhead who had sat beside you silently with a cup of coffee. “You were lost for a moment detka. You okay?”

A hum was the response as you finished off the OJ in front of you. “Just thinking about how we met.” You mused as you stood to bring your dishes to the dishwasher but before you could get two steps in, Wanda had already taken the dishes from you. “I have two hands Wands. I can put dishes in the dishwasher.” You said, hands on your hips with a smirk on your face.

“Yeah but i’m here to do it for you.” The witch smiled sweetly before she stepped up in front of you and wrapped her arms around your waist. “Plus I get a thank you kiss if I do it.” You breathed a laugh and pressed your lips against hers as your hands snaked around her neck, pulling her closer. She melted into the kiss before you had to pull away.

“I’m going to be late for work. Which is impressive considering I live in the same building.” You say with a laugh. “I’ll see you two after work?” You ask, twisting out of the witches arms and step towards the assassin. A chaste kiss is pressed to her lips before you are out of the door leaving both women standing there with smiles ghosting their faces. Who would have thought. A witch and an assassin taken down by a simple daycare worker.

[marvelselfinserts]

This is just fluff and not a nat x reader🙂.... avengers x fem reader🤣where shes literally the most sweetest soul ever but when she's mad she's scary asf? Like maybe on a mission and someone made fun of her family or someone and she just snaps and everyone is like "remind me not to get on her bad side".... please if you can?

Kind-Hearted

Avengers & Fem!Reader [A/N] Ahhh I loved this request so much!! Hope you enjoy my lovely leenlynn 😘😘

There’s a running joke in the Avengers that you’d picked the wrong job. Whilst you’re a good fighter and an asset to the team you’re also the softest person any of them have ever met. All of them have to be careful with you because it doesn’t take much to make you cry – if you think someone’s upset with you then you’re immediately upset too. Every time there’s a sad scene in a movie you’re sniffling and reaching for the tissues. Even on missions you’ve been known to shed a few tears if one of your teammates or a civilian gets hurt, no matter how minor.

Tony always jokes that you’re too kind-hearted for the job and you always retort that that’s the reason you’re perfect for the job. You care deeply about people and you want to protect them “So you always wanted to be an Avenger?” Wanda asks you one day.

You shake your head “Avengers weren’t really a thing when I was a kid, there was no team. I’d heard about Captain America and I’d seen Iron Man on the news. What I really wanted to do was be a Doctor.”

Natasha raises an eye-brow “What, like a surgeon?”

“No, a GP. I read an interview with one somewhere and she said that people come to her at their most vulnerable for help and advice. That really stuck with me.” You think for a moment “And I guess it’s like that with our job. We help people at their most vulnerable. We save their lives. I always wanted a job where I make a difference and it doesn’t get any better than this really.”

Wanda thinks about that for a moment “You don’t ever get stressed though? What about when we make the wrong call? People’s lives are on the line.”

“Oh it’s super stressful but that just makes it worth doing. It’s hard but I like the challenge of making decisions in the heat of the moment. We can only do our best.”

“You never seem super stressed.” Clint says, having eavesdropped on the conversation “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard your curse. Or get angry.”

You laugh “I curse all the time!”

“Bullshit you curse all the time!”

“He’s right though, I’ve never seen you get angry.” Wanda says “Not even when Peter broke your favourite mug.”

“Well, he’s a kid and it was an accident.” You say “Besides, it was only a mug.”

Tony laughs “You’re such a softie. It’s adorable.”

You roll your eyes “I’m not a softie; I just know how to express my emotions in a healthy way. Might be worth looking into sometime Stark.”

Tony simply rolls his eyes and smiles. As far as he’s concerned, you are a softie. Even Wanda and Natasha have to smile, agreeing with Stark’s sentiment though they’d never admit it out loud. That’s why everyone likes you though. All the Young Avengers always want to be paired with you during training because no matter how bad they mess up you always remain calm “Just try again,” You always encourage “You’ll get it eventually.”

They follow you around like lost puppies, looking for advice and guidance because they know no matter how many times you have to explain something you’ll do it until they get it and you won’t get mad at them. If bad news needs breaking to the grumpiest Avengers or SHIELD agents they send you to soften the blow. You’re the sunshine in the Avengers compound – the reliable one.

You’re particularly protective of Kamala, one of the youngest Young Avengers which is why you’re reluctant when Steve agrees to let her on a mission with a team of you “What if something happens out there?” You ask worriedly.

“Kamala has proved herself.” Steve reassures you “For someone so young she’s one of the most powerful assets we have and a great team player. She’ll be fine.”

You frown, not convinced but it’s not your call to make. You look at Kamala “You be careful out there. If you need help with anything I’ll be there, okay?”

Kamala barely hears you such is her excitement to go on her first mission. Sure, she saved Jersey City and she’s been on a mission with Captain Marvel herself but this is her first Avengers mission and she’s absolutely buzzing, practically bouncing off the walls. You give Steve a look who just holds his hands up “I’ll keep an eye on her too. She’ll be fine.”

To Kamala’s credit she is fine. A little excited but she takes the mission seriously, respecting the orders of the Avengers and not putting herself in any unnecessary danger. Your heart swells with pride as you see her fighting, unable to believe how much she’s improved over the last few months. The mission is nearly over so you take a second to just watch her, your expression fond when she’s suddenly thrown off her feet by an enemy who then grabs her by her hair. Kamala’s face screws up in pain and she squirms, trying to get out of his grasp.

You’re over there within seconds, grabbing him by the arm and pulling it back so hard that it nearly breaks “She’s a fucking child!” You snarl “Don’t you dare touch her!”

The enemy is practically whimpering and snivelling in pain when you pull his arm back even further, barely reacting when you finally hear the snap of his bones. You pull him up to his feet by the collar of his shirt and then throw him clean across the room “Try picking on someone your own size you fucking coward! You try that shit again and I’ll snap your fucking neck, do you hear me? Do you fucking hear me?”

You practically stomp across the room, ready to keep kicking this guy’s ass when Steve grabs you by the shoulder “Y/N… Y/N, that’s enough.”

You glare at him and are about to argue back but then you see the worried expression on Kamala’s face. Immediately you soften, crossing over to her and gathering her in your arms “Are you okay Sweetie? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Kamala hugs you back, almost in disbelief “I’m okay… Are you?”

You notice that most of the Avengers are staring at you now, practically open-mouthed and you smile “I’m fine. Just… Protective of the people I care about.”

“Tell me about it.” Tony mutters, his eyes wide and his jaw slack “Remind me never to get on your bad side Y/N, Jesus.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty scary Y/N!” Kamala says.

“Only when she wants to be.” Steve says with a smirk “But yeah. Best not to get on her bad side.”

“She broke that guys arm, it was crazy, I heard the bone snap and everything-” Kamala begins talking a hundred miles a minute.

You roll your eyes but smile, slinging your arm around Kamala’s shoulder and heading back towards the Quinjet. Everyone else is still shocked in the change of your demeanour and you’re surprised by their shock. Having a kind heart doesn’t mean you’re a pushover. Part of what had attracted you to be an Avenger rather than a Doctor in the end was so you could look out for the people who truly needed you to. You wanted to be there for the people who couldn’t stand up for themselves. Nobody was going to get bullied or treated unfairly on your watch. Sure, you were scary – but only when you needed to be.

[randomgirlduh]

Lawfully Acquired Spouse - Natasha Romanoff

pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x Reader

summary: one drink turns into several. you accuse a very patient stranger of kidnapping you. unfortunately, she’s your wife.

tags/warnings: established relationship, married couple, drunk reader, funny drunk, chaos night out, protective Nat, Wanda is TIRED, accidental flirting, domestic fluff,reader has no survival instincts.

author's note:  hi 🤍 i’m supposed to be studying for my exam on thursday (as i said, supposed), but somehow this turned into me projecting my inability to drink responsibly onto reader. that one’s on me. Wanda being done with everyone and Natasha having infinite patience felt inevitable.

english isn’t my first language, so please be kind. i’d love to hear what you think, comments always make my day.

You’re halfway through putting on your jacket when Natasha looks up from the couch.

“You’re not wearing heels.” she notes.

You freeze mid-zip. Slowly turn. “Why does that sound like an accusation?”

“It’s an observation,” she says calmly. Too calmly. “When you don’t wear heels, you drink more.”

“That is fake data.”

Natasha smiles like she has spreadsheets.

You narrow your eyes. “You cannot possibly have—”

“I have charts,” she says. “Trends. A very upsetting bar graph.”

You laugh, walking back toward her. “I am going out for one drink.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Two,” you amend. “Max.”

Nat stands, steps into your space, and fixes your collar with unnecessary precision. “Text me when you’re done,” she says. “I’ll pick you up.”

“I can Uber.”

“Absolutely not,” she says. “I’m picking you up.”

You grin. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“You're my wife, so yes.” she agrees easily.

You lean in, kiss her—soft at first, familiar, then deeper because she hums against your mouth and her hand slides to your waist like it belongs there. Because it does.

She pulls back just enough to murmur, “Behave.”

You smile sweetly. “Never.”

Two hours later, the bar is loud, sticky, and absolutely not designed for the amount of chaos currently occurring inside it.

Everyone said just one round.

Everyone lied.

One drink becomes two. Two becomes celebratory. Wanda is sipping slower than everyone else, Maria is already laughing too loud, and Carol has decided tonight is a physical challenge night.

“Carol,” Wanda says, blinking slowly. “Why are you on the floor?”

“For pride…” Carol says, already lowering herself.

“I can do twenty push-ups!” Carol announces.

A group of random men at the next table perk up immediately.

“I’ll do thirty.” one of them says.

Carol cracks her knuckles. “Count me in.”

You’re half-slouched on the couch, cheering with full confidence and zero balance.

You clap weakly from the couch. “GO MUSCLE LADY!”

“FIVE—” Carol shouts.

Wanda? absolutely done.

She’s seated at the table, nursing the same drink she’s had for an hour, eyes glazed with the resigned patience of someone babysitting a disaster.

You’re on your third—fourth?—drink, perched dramatically on a barstool, telling a bartender a very emotional story about how your wife once reorganized the entire spice rack alphabetically and you’ve never recovered.

“And she smiled,” you whisper, hand over heart. “Like it was normal.”

The bartender nods solemnly. “That’s terrifying.”

“It was hot.” you correct. “But terrifying.”

Then, across the room, Wanda watches you stand on a chair to cheer Carol on.

“Ten! Eleven! Twelve! CAROL YOU’RE A NATIONAL TREASURE—”

Carol collapses onto the floor, laughing. The men look like they might pass out.

Wanda sighs, pulls out her phone.

Natasha is halfway through paperwork when her phone rings.

She answers immediately. “Is she okay?”

Wanda doesn’t bother with greetings. “Well…she’s not hurt.”

“Wanda...”

“She is, however, extremely drunk.”

Nat exhales through her nose. “Where are you?”

She gives the address.

“I’m on my way.”

“She says she’s married,” Wanda adds.

Nat pauses. “…Yes.”

“And that she’s waiting for her wife.”

Nat closes her eyes. “I’ll be there in ten.”

You’re mid-sentence—something about proposing to your wife again because she deserves it—when Wanda touches your arm.

“She’s coming.”

You blink. “Who?”

“Wife.” Wanda says flatly.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “My wife.”

“Yes,” Wanda replies. “That one.”

You frown. “You’re confusing me.”

“I know.”

Wanda glances at the door, then at you.

“Okay. Show’s over.”

Natasha walks in.

Nat laughs the second she sees you.

“Oh, you’re funny drunk,” she murmurs. “I forgot about this version.”

You spot her immediately. You always do.

Your face lights up like she personally invented electricity.

“Ooooh,” you breathe. “She’s pretty.”

Nat steps closer. “Hey, baby. Ready to go home?”

You recoil like she’s crossed a line.

“Absolutely not,” you say. “I’m married.”

“Yes,” Nat replies patiently. “To me.”

You gasp.

“Nonono,” you say, shaking your head. “My wife is hot.”

Nat smirks. “Correct.”

“And intimidating,” you add. “And she would never approach me like this.”

Wanda points at Nat. “That’s literally her.”

You shake your head. “Nonono. Don’t confuse me. She’s blonde.”

Nat’s smile turns wicked. “You’re married to a redhead.”

You lean closer, squinting harder. “That is exactly what a stranger would say.”

She sighs fondly. “You’re impossible.” “I will scream.” you warn.

Before you can react, she grabs you—efficient, practiced—and hoists you over her shoulder like you weigh nothing.

Maria chokes on her drink. Wanda laughs so hard she has to grab the counter. Someone whistles. 

“HEY—” you protest, dangling upside down. “Put me DOWN. I don’t KNOW you.”

Nat pats your leg. “Relax.”

“I’M BEING KIDNAPPED.” you announce to the room. “BY A… VERY ATTRACTIVE WOMAN.”

“Your wife.” Wanda says.

“I will be reporting this,” you insist. “To my wife!”

Nat starts walking toward the door, unfazed.

You squeal.

“HEY—” you smack her back weakly. “Wanda! WANDA I’M BEING TAKEN.”

Nat gives your ass a firm pat. “Behave.”

You gasp. Loudly. “SHE TOUCHED ME.”

“That's my ass,” Nat says calmly. “I’m allowed.”

“She’s gonna be so mad,” you continue. “She doesn’t like strangers touching me like that.”

Nat adjusts you higher on her shoulder. “She’ll survive.”

“I don’t know that.” you argue, upside down.

Carol waves happily from the floor. “Bye!”

The car ride home is… a lot.

You’re slouched in the passenger seat, gazing at Natasha like she hung the moon.

“You drive so well,” you say.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very strong.”

“I know.”

Five minutes pass.

Then you turn your head.

“…You’re very pretty,” you say thoughtfully.

Nat smiles without looking over. “Drink your water.”

“And your arms,” you continue. “They’re… disrespectful.”

She laughs softly. “Careful.”

You lean close, lowering your voice like it’s confidential.

“If I wasn’t married,” you say, “I would absolutely flirt with you.”

“Oh?” Nat glances at you.

“Yes. But I’m a faithful woman.”

“Good to know.”

You lean closer. “Are you single.”

She laughs. “No.”

“That’s a shame,” you say sadly. “My wife would hate you.”

Nat glances at you. “Why?”

“Because I’m flirting with you.”

You suddenly freeze. Eyes widening.

“Oh my God.”

Nat raises an eyebrow. “What.”

“I cheated,” you whisper.

She blinks. “You did not.”

“I emotionally cheated,” you insist. “With… you.”

Nat bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “Baby…”

You clutch your chest. “She’s going to be devastated.”

“I think she’ll survive.”

“No,” you say solemnly. “She loves me.”

Nat reaches over, laces her fingers with yours. “I love you.”

You stare at her hand. At her face.

“…Wait.”

The realization hits you like a freight train.

“Oh.”

She smiles gently. “Hi.”

“You’re my wife.”

“Yes.”

“I flirted with you.”

“Yes.”

You think for a moment. “That’s okay then.”

Nat laughs so hard she has to pull over.

At home, she changes you into comfy clothes while you narrate everything.

“These are my pants,” you inform her. “They are very soft.”

“I know,” she says. “I bought them.”

You pause. “…You’re incredible.”

She tucks you into bed.

You immediately sit up. “Wait...”

“What?”

“You still haven’t proven you’re my wife.”

Nat arches an eyebrow. “How would you like me to do that?”

You think hard. Way too hard.

“…Show me your scar.”

She lifts her shirt just enough to reveal it.

You gasp. “MY WIFE.”

She smiles. “Sleep.”

Morning comes with consequences.

Your head is pounding. The light is offensive. Your mouth tastes like regret.

Nat is already awake, sipping coffee, watching you with entirely too much amusement.

You groan. “Why are you smiling?”

“You told a stranger you’d report me to your wife.”

You bury your face in the pillow. “Did you… did you carry me.”

“Yes.”

“And then?...”

She smirks. “I patted your ass.”

Your eyes fly open.

“You did WHAT??????”

She leans down, kisses you slow and smug. “You didn’t complain.”

You groan again. “Next time I’m wearing heels.”

Nat smiles. “I’ll update the chart.”

[randomgirlduh]

Awfully in Love - Natasha Romanoff

pairing: Natasha x Reader

summary: years into loving you, Natasha still looks at you like it’s the first time.

still obsessed. still deliberate. still choosing you…every day.

tags/warnings: established relationship, still obsessed Natasha, domestic softness, british reader.

author's note: hi 🤍 i’m very fond of the idea that some loves don’t calm down with time, they become intentional. this is years in, still obsessed, still choosing each other. natasha loving like this felt inevitable.

thank you for reading, i’d love to read your thoughts in the comments. english isn’t my first language, so please be kind.

They’ve been together for years.

Long enough that it’s not a secret. Long enough that no one questions it anymore. Long enough that you think you’re used to the way Natasha looks at you.

You’re not.

Because Natasha Romanoff loves like she’s discovering it for the first time, every single day.

You’ll be talking about something completely inconsequential, like how you never quite got used to American bread, and she’ll be watching you like this is the most important conversation she’s ever been part of.

“Nat,” you say, amused. “You okay?”

She blinks. “Yeah.”

She’s lying. But not in a dangerous way. In a soft one.

Years ago, she learned the rhythm of you. The way your accent thickens when you’re tired. The way you get quieter when you miss London, even though you insist you don’t. The way your hands always find her without thinking.

None of it ever stopped being new.

Sam once made a comment, something about how it’s been years, how she could stand to chill.

Natasha didn’t even look up from where you were curled into her side.

“No.” she said simply.

And that was that.

She still memorizes you like you’re temporary. Still kisses you like she’s proving a point. Still reaches for you in her sleep, as if afraid you’ll disappear between one breath and the next.

“You know you don’t have to look at me like that...” you tease one evening, catching her again.

“Like what?” she asks.

“Like you’re in love with me.”

She smiles. Soft. Dangerous.

“But i am.”

There are days when she listens to you talk about London—again, for the hundredth time—and she doesn’t tune out a single detail. Still imagines you there. Still wants to learn every version of you that exists, and every one that almost did.

You catch her one night, tracing circles on your wrist, thoughtful.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you ask.

She hesitates. Then, honestly: “I still can’t believe I get to love you.”

That’s the thing.

Natasha doesn’t love you like it’s safe. She loves you like it’s deliberate.

Like a choice she keeps making, over and over, long after the novelty should’ve worn off.

And if anyone ever asks who Natasha Romanoff is, the answer has never been clearer.

She is the woman who survived everything and still chose love. Still chose you.

Which is how she ends up here.

Standing in the kitchen, years into this, watching the universe briefly misalign.

It happens by accident.

You’re tired, half-distracted, holding a mug in your hand when you say it.

“Did you put the trash out?”

The word barely leaves your mouth before Natasha freezes.

Actually—freezes.

She turns slowly, narrowing her eyes like she’s assessing a threat.

“The what?”

You blink. “The trash.”

She stares at you, genuinely offended.

“No,” she says calmly. Too calmly. “Try again.”

You frown, confused. “Nat, I’m literally asking if you—”

“The bin,” she interrupts. “You mean the bin.”

You laugh. “I’ve lived here for years. I’m allowed to say trash.”

Natasha steps closer, lowering her voice like this is serious.

“No, you’re not.”

You snort. “Why not?”

“Because,” she says, like this should be obvious, “that’s not how you say it.”

She reaches out, cups your face with one hand, thumb brushing your cheek like she’s grounding herself.

“You say bin,” she continues. “And flat. And petrol. And you complain about the loo being too small.”

You grin. “Wow. You’ve been keeping track.”

“I keep track of everything,” Natasha replies without hesitation.

This isn’t new.

Years together and she still corrects you gently, reverently, like your Britishness is something precious she’s responsible for preserving.

Once, you said sidewalk instead of pavement and she physically stopped walking.

Once, you ordered fries instead of chips and she stared at the menu like it had personally betrayed her.

“You’re becoming American,” she’d said quietly. Horrified.

You tease her about it now.

“What, scared I’ll lose my accent next?”

Her expression shifts instantly. Serious. Soft. Intense.

“Don’t,” she says. “I love it.”

Not in a playful way. In a this is part of how I love you way.

You lean into her touch, amused. “You’d still love me if I said trash.”

She exhales, forehead resting against yours.

“I would,” she admits. “But I’d be upset about it.”

You laugh, kissing her. Natasha kisses you back like it’s instinct—like time hasn’t dulled a single thing.

Later, when someone overhears her gently correcting you again, they roll their eyes.

“It’s been years,” they say. “You still act like it’s the first time.”

Natasha doesn’t deny it.

Because every time you speak—accent intact, British words slipping out like muscle memory—it still feels like a gift.

And Natasha Romanoff has never learned how to love anything halfway.

[marvelselfinserts]

got a very fluffy request! but if you don’t want to write that’s okay!

so I was thinking, reader gots almost raped and natasha goes and comfort her(in her way of caring) and the night finishes with they cuddling together <3

Thank you for reading!

Safe and Sound

Natasha Romaoff x Fem!Reader TW's: Harassment, attempted sexual assault - nothing described in graphic detail [A/N] Thank you for the request lovely, hope you enjoy this one 😘

Natasha knows something wrong the moment she gets back to the compound. Reading people is one of her specialties but you’re easier than most to Natasha given that you’re her girlfriend. She knows you better than anyone. You’re trying to play it cool but Natasha knows something has happened.

You’d been out with some friends from college – you’d invited Natasha, wanting to show her off but she hadn’t been in the mood for dancing or interacting with strangers “You’re not gonna come and protect me?” You’d teased as you were leaving.

Natasha had scoffed “You don’t need protecting idiot. You can take care of yourself.”

Of course you can – you’re both Avengers. Natasha never worries about you when you’re out. If anything were to happen you could handle yourself. Most people know you’re Avengers and they act accordingly, not messing with you. Oh some men have tried, wanting to look tough in front of their friends but a couple of viral videos of them getting their asses handed to them had put a stop to that.

Natasha watches as you brush past her and head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. She frowns, leaning over to touch a tear in your dress “What happened here then?”

“Nothing.”

Your response is quiet and Natasha can hear the wobble in your voice, as if you’re on the brink of bursting into tears. You take a long sip of your water and Natasha puts her hand on your back, rubbing it in slow circles “Yeah, I’m sure your dress being torn and you acting super weird is ‘nothing’.”

Before Natasha can even register what’s happened you put down the empty glass and snuggle into her arms, wrapping your own around her waist as you bury your head in her chest. Natasha reacts immediately, tightening her arms around you and leaning her head against yours “Alright.” Natasha mumbles, glancing up at Sam and Steve who are sat at the table, watching you both with concerned expressions “Let’s go to my room. You don’t need an audience.”

Keeping her arm firmly around you Natasha steers you towards her bedroom, glaring fiercely at anyone who so much as glances at you. Nobody dares look for too long. Once you’re in her room Natasha pulls you to the chair near the window, sitting and pulling you into her lap. Natasha loves her bedroom but it’s only thanks to you. When she’d first moved into the compound the concept of decorating her space hadn’t crossed her mind. It had been you who’d dragged her around the furniture store, telling her to pick things she liked.

“But what’s the point?” Natasha had asked as you’d both looked at the very chair you’re sitting in now “It’s just a room to sleep in.”

“The point is it’s your safe space.” You’d replied “It should feel comforting and warm. Somewhere that makes you want to return home.”

Natasha hadn’t really understood that until she’d been finished. This room was everything she’d wished she’d had as a kid. Her own space to breath, to feel, to live. Natasha does feel safe in here. But she feels safest when you’re here too “What happened?” She asks now, her head leaning against yours.

“It’s really nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh and would you accept that explanation if I was the one crying after coming home from a night out with a torn dress?”

“I’m not crying.” You mumble, ignoring the salty tears that are starting to drip down your cheeks “And it’s not torn that bad, I bet Wanda could fix this-”

“I bet she could but I’m still interested in how it happened.”

You cover your face with your hands “Fuck…”

Natasha rubs her hand up and down your back and keeps her head leant against yours. She likes to be in control, to know what’s going on and it kills her that you’re often reluctant to open up when you’re upset. Natasha knows she’s a hypocrite – she likes to deal with her own problems, not burden her loved ones with them. It’s something she’s been working on. Opening up to you. But only if you do the same.

“There was this guy.” You eventually mumble “In the club. Wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Natasha closes her eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of his head “What was he doing?”

“At first he came over and told me I was pretty then asked if he could buy me a drink. I said no, told him I was taken. He started saying that he couldn’t see a wedding ring so I reiterated I was happily taken. It didn’t deter him though. If I tried to dance with my friends, he was there, grabbing me, even when I pushed him away. I told security but they just shrugged and said he was free to dance where he wanted.”

Natasha’s expression darkens “But he was grabbing you!”

“I know but they didn’t seem to care. Eventually my friends suggested going elsewhere so we were all walking to the next club when I needed to adjust my shoe. I told them to keep walking, that I’d catch up but- Well, he’d followed us. He grabbed me, tried to drag me into a dark alley. He took me off guard; my dress got torn in the scuffle before I came to my senses and kicked his ass.”

Natasha doesn’t like that this guy followed you but she can’t help feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction at the thought of you beating the shit out of this creep “Is he still out there?”

“I flagged a police car, told them what had happened. They said they’d take him in, come here tomorrow to take a statement but that they didn’t think it would go anywhere because it was his word against mine. Managed to get a few good hits in though, hopefully that asshole will think twice next time.”

“Still spooked you though.” Natasha says rather than asks.

You nod, taking her hand in yours and intertwining your fingers “Just makes me so mad. All I wanted to do was dance with my friends and he just… And at least I can defend myself. There are so many girls out there who can’t. The police were kind to me, they believed me but you hear stories all the time about women who weren’t believed. It’s like I have privilege ‘cos I’m an Avenger. Another girl might’ve got arrested for defending herself.”

Natasha nods “I know. Makes me mad too.” She kisses your forehead “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Like you said, I can protect myself.”

“You shouldn’t have had to. I am proud of you though. My brave, tough girl.” Natasha presses slow, loving kisses to your cheek “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Why don’t you get out of this dress and into those comfy pyjamas that look super cute on you and we’ll cuddle for the rest of the night?”

You nod, disappearing to your own room to change. Natasha takes a moment to let out an angry breath, running her hand through her hair. How dare someone put their hands on her precious girl? Natasha doesn’t know what this guy looks like but she’s half-tempted to find out everything she can about him, to hunt him down and make him pay herself. She clenches her fist. Hopefully they’ll keep him behind bars for tonight at least. It’s not enough but it’s at least something. She hopes he’s still hurting, that you managed to get a few good bruises on him. She’s known you to break a guys ribs before. Natasha can only hope.

You reappear in Natasha’s room and her expression immediately softens as she climbs into the bed, pulling you into her arms and pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head “There you go, you always look so sweet in those pyjamas.”

“You make me feel like a baby when you say shit like that.”

“You’re my baby.” Natasha teases, tucking your head under her chin “How are you feeling now?”

“Better now I’m with you.” You mumble, pressing your face to her chest. It’s true, you always feel better when you’re near Natasha. You can protect yourself but sometimes it’s nice to know that you don’t have to, that Natasha is there to keep you from harm “I love you.”

“Love you more.” Natasha murmurs “I’m gonna hold you until you’re sick of me.”

“You could hold me forever and I wouldn’t get sick of it.”

“Then I’ll hold you forever.”

You huff “I’m tired but I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Why don’t we lie here and cuddle while listening to music?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Natasha calls out to Friday, asking her to play the night-time playlist the two of you had curated a while ago before kissing the top of your head again as the room fills with low, soft music. You close your eyes, taking comfort in Natasha’s warm embrace. Natasha’s not ready to sleep yet either. She’s perfectly content to hold you in her arms until sunrise when you face your problems together. What happened with that guy can wait. For now, you both take comfort in each other. Safe and sound, right where you belong.

[yanttzz]

My Wife, Even Better

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha calls you girlfriend and you correct her

Word Count: 300+

Genre: fluff

A/N: Happy New Year!

The compound gym was usually quiet on Sunday mornings. Except for today, when a group of young trainees from junior program had been invited to tour the Avengers facility. Wide-eyes kids, all of them staring at everything like it was magic.

You were supposed to demonstrate a simple disarm. Simple.

But the trainee you partnered with moved faster than expected, swinging the practice staff at your head with way too much enthusiasm.

You didn’t even think. Your body reacted on instinct.

You ducked low, swept his legs in one clean motion, caught the falling staff mid-air, spun it around your wrist and tapped it gently against his shoulder in the universal “you’re out” signal.

The entire room gasped.

One of the kids whispered, star-struck, “She’s so cool…”

And before you could say anything, you heard Natasha’s voice ring out from across the room, loud, proud and absolutely smug:

“That’s my girlfriend, you suckers!”

Nat was standing there arms crossed, smirk sharp enough to cut glass, absolutely preening.

You helped the trainee to stand and then turned to Natasha with a smirk.

“Your wife, Nat.”

The kids gasped. Natasha froze for a second, then her smirk deepened into something warmer, brighter.

She closed the distance in two slow steps, eyes gleaming.

“My wife,” she echoed, voice dropping like she liked the taste of the word, “Even better.”

A couple of the trainees whispered excitedly, one of them whisper-shouting, “She’s married to Black Widow!”

Natasha ignored them completely, her attention fixed entirely on you as she took your hand and tugged you closer.

“You know,” she murmured, low enough only you could hear, “you showing off like that is extremely attractive.”

You raised a brow, “Didn’t mean to show off.”

“Liar,” she said with a soft laugh, “Good thing you’re my wife or I’d have to fight half these kids for your attention.”

You squeezed her hand, still smirking, “Relax, Nat. They’re all terrified of you.”

Her smirk returned full force, “Even better.”

Tag list: @mirage018 @yelldontwhisper @canvascoloredin @perfectlyfoggycloud @taliiiaasteria @checkenlittlsblog

[s-zys-world]

WAR BETWEEN RELATIVES

SUMMARY: You attended the Kardashian-Jenner Christmas Eve party with Kendall, but instead of sticking by her side, you spent most of the night with the kids. Kendall noticed, and got a little jealous especially when she found out one of her nieces had a crush on you.

WARNING: nothing, pure fluff

YOU’VE never been the kind of person who likes to show off. You stay quiet—on social media, and even more so in real life. No matter how much your managers and countless others urge you to be more visible, more present, more out there, you simply can’t force yourself to blend in with the noise and perform like everyone else.

Social media is a vast world. It helps people; it helps careers. You’re grateful it exists—after all, it’s where you rose, where your name traveled, where you became known as a singer-songwriter. It gave you a voice that reached far beyond what you ever imagined. But with that fame came something else: a life far more public than you ever wanted.

And because you’re low-key by nature, the more you retreat, the more people want you. Fans ache for glimpses of you. Paparazzi trail your shadow, hoping to catch even the smallest detail they can turn into a headline. The irony? They almost never succeed.

Being low-key isn’t just a preference for you—it’s a craft. A quiet game you’re very good at. To you, low-key means being elusive, moving unseen, mastering the art of subtlety.

Sneaking away. Slipping through moments unnoticed. And truth be told, you enjoy it—far more than anyone realizes.

You love staying hidden during your free time—when it’s no longer about fans or what they call fan service. You treasure anonymity, the quiet, the freedom of being unseen. And maybe—just maybe—that’s one of the reasons Kendall fell in love with you. You’re a celebrity, yet your life remains a riddle, a mystery no one can fully solve.

No one truly knew you until Kendall stepped into your world. She knows you. And you know her. Both of you are low-key, calm, effortlessly chill—but undeniably fun to be with. That’s how you clicked. That’s how the relationship began.

Being part of the same industry, each with your own following and noise trailing behind, you made a conscious choice to keep your love private. A secret shared only with those closest to your hearts. And those people are the Kardashian-Jenner family—only them, and no one else.

Of course, fans began to suspect something. They caught you on what looked like a date at a restaurant you were certain you had rented out just for the two of you. Paparazzi snapped a photo—nothing dramatic, just the two of you talking, existing in the same space.

Naturally, the media pounced. Half of them sensed something real, something more. The other half denied it outright, insisting you were just friends, even labeling you both as very straight—which couldn’t be further from the truth. People love pretending they know you, even when they don’t.

But have you ever confirmed anything to the media about the relationship? No.

Because first of all, you’re afraid it might ruin Kendall’s image as a supermodel. You know how unforgiving the world can be, how unkind it still is to queer people. Second, neither of you is out. And it’s not easy to tell the world you’re in love with someone whose appearance is like a literal goddess.

And last, most important of all, you don’t want your quiet, hard-earned harmony to be swallowed by media chaos. Your life was peaceful the moment you came into this world, and you don’t want to shatter what’s left of that calm, even if fame already cracked it when you became a singer.

As you’ve always said, the media is the most terrifying, and most useful, thing that exists.

So no. There was never going to be a public announcement. It never crossed your mind. Not once.

Not until tonight.

Not until you saw your girlfriend walking around the Kardashian-Jenner mansion in nothing but pajamas, dressed just like everyone else, as if she belonged nowhere else but here, helping her family with something.

You were invited to celebrate Christmas Eve with them, what was supposed to be a family-only gathering. Just the sisters and their devastatingly beautiful, kind, and loving mother.

But Kris Jenner herself invited you, saying you were part of the family now. She may, or may not, have invited Kylie’s new boyfriend, Timothée Chalamet, too. And Kourtney’s husband, Travis Barker.

So you’re relieved you’re not the only one who isn’t blood-related. Still, a small part of you misses Scott. He was the first to welcome you, even without sharing blood with the family himself.

At least his kids are here. Your favorite kids, aside from Tantum, of course. Tantum will always sit at the top of the pyramid of your favorite third-generation Kardashians. Sweet kid. The best, really.

“Tell me one reason why can’t I have at least one TikTok with her?” North asks—the teenager you’ve grown close to, maybe because her rebellious phase mirrors one you survived yourself.

“She can’t, baby. People will assume she’s dating Aunt Kenny,” Kim says, helping Khloé and the other kids bake cookies.

“Well, it’s not like I’d announce she’s dating my aunt. And if they assume—so what? It would be the truth,” North presses. “Why bother hiding when it’s just two people in love? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The words land like a quiet slap of reality. She's right you thought.

“That's a cap,” Penelope adds, helping Kendall, Mason, and the others set up the enormous Christmas tree. “What’s wrong with a woman being in love with another woman?”

On the other side of the room, you’re holding Stormi when you glance at Kendall. She’s already looking at you.

You can’t read her expression. It’s unfamiliar. And even after six months of dating Kendall Nicole Jenner, she still surprises you. Usually, she never hesitates to express what she feels. But now, something is holding her back. And you don’t know what it is.

For a moment, longer than it should be, no one answers the two curious teenagers. No one can. Because the question is yours to answer. Because those two teenagers are right.

“Nothing is wrong with that,” you finally say, breaking the breathless silence that blankets the mansion. “It’s just...that people still aren’t used to it. They’re not open-minded about these things, at least, that’s how it looks from where I stand.”

You make your excuse—and every eye in the room turns to you. Even Travis and Timothée are watching now, their expressions soft with pity. Because deep down, they know the truth: they get to announce to the world that they’re dating a Kardashian, and you don’t. All because you’re a woman who loves another woman.

Because in society’s eyes, a same-gender relationship is still branded as wrong, as sin—when it has always been nothing but love. You didn’t choose this to be defiant. You simply fell in love with a woman.

And it isn’t your fault that feelings don’t come with an off switch.

As the words leave your mouth, your gaze drifts back to Kendall. Her jaw is clenched now, tight, restrained—holding back everything she wants to say but won’t. You see it clearly this time.

“Why do you care what other people say?” North presses, her voice steady, fearless. “You are you. Don’t let their words control your life.”

Another truth. Another clean hit to the chest.

Kendall nods, silently backing North up. And that’s when it clicks, you finally understand what her heart has been screaming while her mind keeps it locked away.

You’ve never really talked about this with Kendall, but you know her. When she loves, she loves loudly. She likes to show off. She likes the world to know who she’s with. Yet with you, she’s quiet.

People ask her if she’s in a relationship. She can’t say no, because she’s with you. But she can’t say yes either, because outing your relationship on her own would be selfish, careless, unfair.

“I don’t care if people hate me for dating a woman,” you say honestly, finally breaking eye contact with Kendall and turning to North. “But I can’t tell people I’m dating your Aunt Kenny if it means they’ll hate her. They’re not open-minded with this kind of topic yet... so there's an 80% chance people will loathe her to see us date... and I don't like that.”

North’s smile spreads—genuine, but sharp with understanding.

“So you’re not afraid to come out because people might hate you,” she says slowly. “You’re afraid they’ll hurt my aunt. You’re protecting her.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say,” you reply, smiling back.

And the moment the words settle, the entire room lets out a collective aww, leaving you flustered, exposed, yet strangely lighter than before.

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you!” Kris says, ever the dramatist, her eyes misting as she pulls you into a hug. She thanks you for being such a good girlfriend—to your girlfriend. Praise follows from every corner of the room, people admiring how you chose Kendall before yourself. Khloé, of course, breaks the softness with humor.

“Aww—anything but a ring and a wedding. Get out of my house!” she yells, tossing a handful of M&M’s your way.

You catch one with your mouth effortlessly. The kids gasp, delighted, and just like that, the moment shifts. Laughter replaces sentiment. Attention rerouted. Topic changed.

As the adults drift off to prepare for the Christmas midnight countdown, you end up with the kids—alongside Timothée, who’s basically a kid himself, teaching them silly M&M tricks Mason sneaked from his mom. You join in, showing off your own: circling the candy across your knuckles, tossing it into the air, catching it cleanly with your mouth. The kids try. They fail. They beg you to teach them. You do, gladly.

But somewhere between the laughter and sugar, you feel it—something off.

At first, it’s North. She’s nowhere to be found, which isn’t strange. She disappears like that sometimes, off doing her own thing. She’s a teenager. Comes with the territory.

Then you notice Penelope.

She isn’t playing. She’s tucked into the corner of the couch, quietly eating, watching the rest of you with calm, distant eyes. And the sight of her hits you in a familiar place.

She reminds you of Kendall.

Kendall does that too—slips away when her social battery drains, choosing solitude to recharge her spirit before rejoining the world. But with Penelope, you know it’s more than that. Distance, at that age, carries weight.

You know the truth.

That kid has a crush on you.

Her mother mentioned it when you were first introduced to the family. You noticed it too—the way the kids swarm you like you’re Santa Claus come early. All of them, except Penelope. She keeps her distance. Always watching. Always quiet.

Just like Kendall once did.

Before you ever dated, Kendall watched you the same way—from afar, silently, with something unmistakably close to admiration.

So you walk over to Penelope. No ill intent. No lines crossed. You just want to be close, to belong to this loud, loving family, and maybe, in a small but meaningful way, make a teenager’s world a little brighter.

Because having a crush on someone older, and having that crush gently acknowledged, not encouraged, not dismissed—just seen… That’s a rite of passage. And Penelope deserves that piece of her teenage story.

“Are you good?” you ask, sitting beside her.

Penelope looks at you like she’s been caught doing something illegal—eyes wide, cheeks blooming red. You give her a small smile, gentle and sincere.

“Y-yeah. I’m good,” she stutters. She even scoots a little farther away, as if your shoulders brushing was a scandal of its own.

God—you almost laugh. She’s that red.

“Then why aren’t you joining the fun?” you ask softly. “Is solitude more comfortable? Can I join you?” You pause, amused. “No pun intended.”

She says yes again—still a stuttering mess. It’s adorable. Painfully so. You notice how she steals glances at you when you look away, and the moment you turn back, she pretends you don’t exist.

She’s like a teenage version of your girlfriend—who’s currently in the kitchen, helping out and probably butchering a cucumber again.

“I heard you wanted one of my albums signed,” you say. “That’s on your wishlist, right?”

Penelope nods, eyes glued to the M&M in her hand, too shy to meet your gaze.

“You could’ve just told me,” you tease lightly. “Santa isn’t going to break into my house, hand me your gift, then ask for change.”

“Santa isn’t real,” she mutters, then adds, “and Mom said I should buy it instead of asking you… to support you.”

You frown. That’s not how you want people to support you—but you know how this industry works. Still, this kid? She’s family now.

“There are lots of ways to support me,” you say gently. “You don’t have to spend your money. Next time you want an album signed, just call me or Auntie Kenny. We’ll give it to you.”

She finally looks at you. Her smile blooms, bright and unguarded.

“Really?” she asks.

You nod. She squeals and throws herself into your arms, hugging you tight. The room notices. Everyone does—including Kendall, and of course, Penelope’s mom. Kourtney raises an eyebrow, amused. “Penelope, don’t steal Auntie Kenny’s girlfriend. You don’t want her entering Christmas girlfriend-less.”

“Mom, shut up!” Penelope groans, pulling away and hiding her face with her hands as laughter fills the room.

Kendall blinks, confused. “What are you guys laughing about?” she asks, looking at you like an innocent puppy.

“Penelope has a crush on Aunt Y/N,” Mason says casually.

“MASON, SHUT UP!” Penelope yells. “I hate you guys!”

She bolts, running upstairs to hide. North finally reappears and volunteers to go after her. You want to help—but you’re drained. So you just call out after her, voice loud and sincere.

“It’s okay, Penelope! I don’t mind!”

You hope it’s enough. Because you know how mortifying that kind of moment feels, and you’d never want her to feel ashamed of something as simple as admiration.

“You guys are evil for that,” you say, laughing along with them. The teasing lingers for a bit before the conversation drifts elsewhere. Nearly half an hour passes before Penelope returns with North. As soon as she sits beside you, you check on her.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine… I’m sorry about that.”

You shake your head, genuinely unfazed. “Don’t be. Having a crush is normal. There’s nothing embarrassing about it—trust me.”

“She’s right.”

You look up to see your beautiful girlfriend walking toward you. Kendall doesn’t hesitate—she settles onto your lap, facing her niece.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a crush,” Kendall says gently, stroking Penelope’s hair. “It’s normal. It’s part of growing up.”

North, half-absorbed in her phone, casually chimes in, “That’s 100% legit. I used to have a crush on her before Aunt Kenny even introduced her as her girlfriend. Heck, even Mason likes her.”

That catches you off guard. You look at Kendall, waiting for confirmation—but she’s just as surprised.

“Really?” Kendall asks. “You guys had a crush on my girlfriend?”

North hums and shrugs like it’s nothing.

Kendall scoffs. “Unbelievable. Am I the only one in this room who didn’t know you all liked my girlfriend?”

Her voice rises slightly, and you can’t help but giggle. Instinctively, Kendall wraps her arms around you, possessiveness slipping through—soft, instinctive, and ridiculously adorable.

“Pfft, not that big of a deal, Aunt Kenny,” North says.

“Actually,” Kendall replies, “it is a big deal. Because now I can’t trust any of you around my girlfriend. What if one of you steals her from me?”

“Kenny—” you start, but Mason cuts in.

“No one can, Aunt Kenny. Trust me. I tried.”

You turn to him, brows furrowed. “When?”

“I DM’d you before. You ignored me. Not even a seen.”

Whether it’s truth or bluff, you don’t care. You just laugh it off.

“Good,” Kendall says firmly, tightening her hold on you. “No one’s stealing my girlfriend. None of you.”

“Oh baby, relax,” you tease, pinching her waist. She complains, squinting at you. “Hey—don’t do that. And no, I won’t stop. Stay out of this. This is a war between relatives.”

You grab her waist and turn her fully toward you.

“And you already won,” you murmur. “So why bother warning your enemies?”

The words come out softer—lower—more intimate than you intended. You lean in and peck her nose.

“I suggest you take the prize and quietly walk away from the war.”

You seal it with a quick kiss. Kendall flushes instantly, cupping your face, about to kiss you back until...

“Please get a room,” Kylie interrupts. “Travis and Kourtney’s PDA is already enough. Give us a break.”

“Oh please,” Khloé says. “you’re the one to talk when you have a partner as well. Kendall, Kylie, Kourtney—get out of my house. I don’t need to see couples being affectionate, it's disgusting!”

“Oh, you’re just jealous the teacher rejected you,” Kourtney shoots back.

“Ohhh, burn,” you say loudly—accidentally in perfect sync with Mason, North, and Timothée.

“I know,” Khloé snaps. “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t shoot your shot.”

“Honestly, you should,” you add casually. “Because I did—and look what I got.”

You stand up suddenly, lifting Kendall effortlessly into a bridal carry.

“Oh my God!” she yelps, clutching you tighter and lightly smacking your chest.

Kim walks in with trays of cards, rolling her eyes. “Okay, we get it. You all have partners. Khloé and I don’t. Let’s just get this night over with—Christmas is almost here.”

And so the night goes on.

The Kardashian-Jenner family fills the house with laughter—games, kids sprawled asleep on couches, and later, just the adults, wine in hand, talking about life.

A life you finally allow yourself to imagine.

A life where you can stand beside Kendall and say—out loud, to the world—that she’s yours.

And she is the best thing that ever happened to you.

Even if she’s dead serious about this so-called war between relatives.

Which is funny.

And somehow—will never ever not be funny.

But yeah, she's dead serious about her war between relatives.

[e-afterlife]

𝐓𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐚

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Chapter : 1/1

Words : 7k

Toska: Russian, Noun TOS-kah An immense, quiet ache of the soul. An anguish from the bottom of the heart.

Summary :

5 times Natasha failed to get you under the mistletoe for a kiss and the 1 time it worked. OR : Natasha Romanoff having beef with a bunch of green leaves.

AN: Merry Christmas to those who celebrates <3

⧗ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Natasha tore her gaze away from you the moment she noticed the mistletoe.

It was instinct, really. Years of training have wired her brain to clock environmental details without conscious effort: exit routes, reflective surfaces, hidden cameras, the way a room felt before it turned dangerous.

The mistletoe was harmless. Technically.

But it registered all the same. Green sprigs tied together with a thin red ribbon, hanging deliberately at the intersection of two hallways just outside the common room - right where she had been heading before you intercepted her.

Someone had put it there on purpose. Or, well, for a very specific purpose.

Natasha filed the information away. 

Because you were standing directly beneath it.

You were mid-sentence, talking about something inconsequential - movie night schedules, maybe, or the way Stark insisted on playing the same three holiday songs on loop like psychological warfare. 

Seriously, though, how many times was he going to play Joe Williams' Jingle Bells before it became illegal? No matter what remix it was, it was getting on her nerves.

Natasha shook herself out of it, watching your hands move as you talked, expressive and familiar. You looked relaxed. Comfortable. The kind of comfort that settled into Natasha’s chest and refused to leave.

But the mistletoe was still there, hovering above you like a dare.

Okay... 

She had options.

Option one: She could interrupt you smoothly, smile, keep it casual. Make a joke about traditions, tilting her head just enough to draw your attention upward. If you laughed, if you stepped closer - good. Very good. If you did not, she could deflect, turn it into banter. Low risk. Medium reward.

Option two: She could wait until you finished talking, then step forward and lower her voice. Say something honest while still keeping it open. 'You know, that’s funny, we’re standing in a very specific spot right now...'. Let you decide what to do next, put the control in your hands. She did not like that one very much. Terrifying. But... fair?

Option three: She could not say anything at all. Just reach out, let her fingers brush your wrist, test the space between you. Read your reaction. Pull back if she had to. 

Natasha was very good at reading reactions.

She was very good at a lot of things.

She executed none of them.

Instead, she kept glancing up.

The mistletoe stared back at her, smug. Accusatory. Like it knew exactly what she was failing to do.

You kept talking - because, of course you did. Your voice faded in and out as Natasha’s attention fractured. She nodded at the right moments, hummed acknowledgment when expected, her body running on autopilot while her mind ran simulations that somehow all ended the same way: her doing nothing. Again.

This was ridiculous.

She had jumped out of planes with no parachute for Chirst’s sake. She had dismantled criminal empires with nothing but a fake name and a shitty burner phone. She had seduced ugly arms dealers, uglier war criminals, men who would probably have killed her - or at least tried to - without blinking if she slipped up and failed her act.

And yet.

Asking you for a kiss felt like stepping into traffic.

Blindfolded.

With headphones on.

And her limbs tied together.

She risked another glance upward.

Yep, still there.

Still directly right above your head. Still mocking her.

Natasha’s jaw tightened.

You paused mid-word, tilted your head slightly to study her face with that quiet attentiveness that always threw her off.

"Is there something on my face?" You asked, confused.

Natasha bit back the first sarcastic response that came to mind.

There was no reason to snap at you just because her own thoughts refused to cooperate. That had become a bad habit lately - sarcasm, sharp edges, emotional walls snapping into place before she could stop them.

It was just a stupid plant. Not even a full plant. Just a couple of stupid leaves. Even worse.

"No." She said immediately. The simple word came out rougher than she intended, clipped and impatient. She winced internally, but kept her expression neutral, controlled.

There was something above your face, though.

She did not say that part out loud.

You blinked, then smiled faintly.

"You were making a weird face."

"I don't make weird faces." Natasha shot back, defensive. 

She was also painfully aware that you had a point.

She made a conscious effort to smooth out the tension in her shoulders.

You snorted, giving her a look.

"You absolutely do."

"I do not." Natasha insisted, voice flat - but the corner of her mouth twitched.

This was familiar ground. This she could do. Trading dry remarks, standing a little too close, pretending the static in the air was nothing more than faulty wiring in the Compound.

The mistletoe remained, though.

You shifted your weight, stepping closer without really thinking. And Natasha had to consciously stop herself from leaning in too. The space between you narrowed. She caught the scent of your shampoo. Something clean, fruity more than floral. Her fingers curled at her sides.

She knew she should say something.

But just because she knew did not mean she did, though.

Because what if she was wrong?

What if the mistletoe was just decoration to you? A joke. A seasonal cliché that did not mean anything unless someone gave it meaning - and what if you did not want that meaning with her?

Natasha had survived on certainties most of her life. This was not certain. This was hope, and hope was dangerous.

You bit your lip as the silence stretched, glancing past her toward the common living room.

"So... I should probably grab some coffee before your sister drinks it all again."

A safe subject, Natasha appreciated it.

She nodded, shoving her hands in the pockets of her combat pants to keep herself from doing something stupid, like reaching out.

"Yeah... good idea. She has no shame." She muttered, voice dry.

You hesitated, like there was something else you might say. Natasha held her breath.

Then you smiled again, warm and uncomplicated.

"I'll see you later?"

A part of her wanted to seek you out, grab your arm, ask you to stop, ask you to stay, ask you for something - anything so the moment would not just end.

Instead, she just nodded.

"Later." Natasha confirmed, forcing herself to give you a nonchalant smile. 

If her eyes lingered on you as you walked down the hall - her expression carefully neutral but her pulse loud in her ears - she did not acknowledge it.

And just like that, you were out from under the mistletoe, the moment dissolving as if it had never existed at all. 

When you were fully out of sight, Natasha finally looked up properly.

The leaves swayed slightly, disturbed by the air you had left behind.

She exhaled through her nose.

"Traitor." She muttered under her breath, refusing to look up again as she walked away. 

She refused to give the mistletoe the satisfaction.

She told herself it was nothing. Just bad timing. Just a stupid decoration. You had not even known it was there. There will be other chances, maybe other moments that did not hinge on a plant and a tradition she never grew up with anyway.

Still.

Later that night, as she was laying awake and staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, she could not stop thinking about the way you stood beneath it without ever looking up once.

And how she stood right there, with you, and did absolutely nothing.

- ⧗ -

Friday movie night with the team was supposed to be safe.

That was the logic Natasha used, anyway. Low stakes. Low lighting. No missions, no expectations - just a bunch of couches, blankets, snacks, a screen way too big, and the collective truce the Avengers had formed around not saving the world for a few hours. If anything went wrong, she could always blame the movie. Or Stark. Usually Stark.

She noticed the mistletoe the moment she walked into the common room.

Of course she did.

It had been added since the last time she was here, hung deliberately above the kitchen threshold leading into the lounge. Subtle, but not subtle enough. The ribbon was a slightly different shade of red than the other. 

Natasha stopped just inside the doorway, taking the situation in.

You were already there, curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket pulled over your legs, arguing with Wanda about the movie selection. Something animated. Something with mystery. Something with laughter. Your face lit with easy amusement as Tony and Sam joined the debate. You looked comfortable. Happy. 

Natasha felt the familiar, unwelcome warmth bloom in her chest.

She grabbed a bowl and moved into the kitchen area, loading it with popcorn like it was a task she had been assigned. She added a little extra without thinking - her muscle memory kicking in - because she remembered of course, that you liked it better that way.

She reached the threshold.

And stopped.

Accidentally. Well, on purpose.

Natasha positioned herself directly beneath the mistletoe, angling her body just enough that it looked natural. Like she was just... paused. Like waiting for something mundane. Perhaps waiting for the microwave to finish or the kettle to boil.

Except the microwave was off. So was the kettle. 

She stood there anyway, her eyes drifting back to you - silent and traitorous, begging you to turn around.

And you did. 

You looked up, as if sensing her gaze. Your eyes met hers across the room, and for a heartbeat, everything went quiet. The movie menu hummed softly in the background, waiting for everyone to settle in. The world narrowed to the invisible line stretched between you and her. The moment stilled, almost unnaturally so. Natasha thought that was it. Her fingers flexed around the rim of the bowl. You would probably say something. You would notice for sure, right? You would come here, deeming she was taking too long for your liking. You would smile like you did last time and maybe this time you would look up. Maybe this time she would not have to explain anything at all.

She did not look away.

She actually let herself hope.

You blinked, then smiled, nodding towards the bowl in her hand. 

"You good?" You mouthed to her from your place on the couch, pointedly ignoring the bickering still unfolding beside you.

Natasha opened her mouth. 

The words were right there. 'I'm fine,'. Or 'Almost done.', 'Just waiting.' Something simple, easy, believable. 

She could even flirt 'Why? Missing me?'.

She had done it so many times before. She was good at playing things off -  at making things light when they were not. She was good at flirting too.

Instead, she just stood there. With stupid popcorn and mistletoe above her head. Like an absolute  idiot.

She nodded, managing a soft smile.

You smiled back, winking, then turned back to Wanda to finish your argument about why the original was better than the sequel. You did not look up. You did not notice the mistletoe. Or maybe you did and looked away for that exact reason. 

Natasha’s grip tightened on the bowl as disappointment washed over her - quick and sharp, like cold water down her spine.

You had not noticed. Of course you had not. 

Why would you? You just... smiled and turned away like it was nothing, like she was not standing there with one of your favorite snacks and a stupid tradition dangling above her head. Pretending she was absolutely, unequivocally not waiting.

"Nat?" Steve's voice came from behind her.

She flinched internally, but she did not show it. She turned, eyebrows lifting in polite attention. 

Steve fully stepped into the kitchen, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater. He glanced around before frowning down at the popcorn bowl. 

"Did we run out of napkins? Tony sa-"

Natasha could kill him.

She could do it cleanly, efficiently. No mess. 

Outwardly, she just sighed. 

"They’re in the drawer next to the sink."

"Oh. Right." He followed her gaze, stepped forward - then his eyes flicked upward, the mistletoe hanging awkwardly just above his hair.

Steve's eyes widened a fraction. His mouth opened without any sound. His cheeks flushed almost immediately. 

Natasha felt like she had been dunked into freezing water this time.

She looked at the mistletoe.

Then Steve.

Then back to the mistletoe.

She stared. Steve stared back.

She would have found his expression hilarious under any other circumstances. Right now, she wanted to scream.

Steve smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Oh, uh, hey... I mean. We don't have to b-"

"No." Natasha said quickly, a little too fast, a little too sharp. She cleared her throat before shoving the popcorn bowl into his hands and stepped sideways - retreating fast, like she had just remembered something urgent or classified on the other side of the room.

She grabbed a stack of napkins as quickly as she could and did not look back. 

She absolutely did not look at you either.

When she finally sat down - deliberately choosing a spot not directly beside you, because that felt safer now - you glanced over with a smile.

"Hey, did you get the good popcorn?" You asked, looking at her expectantly.

Natasha exhaled, tension bleeding out of her shoulders. This, at least, she could handle.

"Who are you taking me for, huh?" She replied, nodding toward Steve as he passed you the bowl, cheeks still faintly pink.

You hummed in approval, settling back as the lights dimmed and the opening credits rolled.

Natasha leaned back, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Movie night was supposed to be safe.

But it was fine. She was not waiting for anything. She just wished - briefly, foolishly - that you had looked up. Maybe things would have been different then. 

Maybe something would have happened then.

- ⧗ -

Perhaps she should have accepted Steve's kiss under the mistletoe the other day. 

Strange thought, she knew.

And Natasha did not really believe in all that stuff in the first place, but nothing, absolutely nothing, had gone as planned since then - as if there really was some kind of stupid curse attached to refusing a kiss beneath a stupid couple of festive, green leaves. 

Since then, a black cat - frankly annoying - kept showing up outside her quarters, yowling to be let in. Natasha did not even know how the damn thing had gotten into the compound in the first place. Yelena had been insufferable, somehow managing to be even worse than usual. Your Christmas present was late, and although Natasha claimed she did not care and insisted it was not stressing her out, she still caught herself thinking about it at inconvenient hours.

On top of that, Clint had seen straight through her act and had not let up since. Constant teasing. Casual comments. Invitations to come over for Christmas with her girlfriend - you - said with just enough innocence to make it unbearable.

Natasha had not slept properly in what felt like weeks but was probably months if she really thought about it. 

She was one bad day away from letting the damn cat into her quarters and killing her supposedly best friend.

And now this?

This was simply the last straw. It was deliberately meant to mock her, there was no other explanation.

So yes, maybe she should have accepted Steve's platonic kiss under the mistletoe.

Because right now, the cover was fucking with her head.

That was one of the first thoughts Natasha had as you walked into the hotel ballroom on her arm - your posture relaxed, your fingers resting easily against the inside of her elbow, your body angled just close enough to suggest intimacy without exaggeration. 

You looked like a couple who had done this a hundred times.

You had not.

Your cover identities were printed cleanly in her mind: names, anniversary date, shared backstory, the small lies that make the big ones believable. A couple. Together long enough to be comfortable. Long enough to touch without thinking.

Natasha was very good at this. She should have been glad to do this with you as her partner, really. Yet it felt like a poisoned gift.

She leaned in slightly, her breath ghosting your ear. 

"Come on," she murmured, discreetly tugging you closer. "Gimme a pretty smile. I saw eyes on us."

And you did. God, you did it so easily. 

The room was dressed for the holidays. Everything looked expensive, tasteful, just the right amount of excess. Soft music was playing. Pretty low lightning. People in suits and dresses, most of them pretending they were not here to trade secrets under the guise of champagne and charity.

Natasha clocked the target immediately - across the room near the bar.

But then she saw it as well. Again. The thing that refused to leave her alone, following her everywhere she seemed to meet you. The thing that haunted her thoughts.

Mistletoe.

It was hanging above a narrow archway just a few steps away. Green, full, carefully placed. The kind of thing meant to encourage exactly the sort of behavior your cover required.

Her pulse stuttered. 

She was going to lose her fucking mind.

Until you saw it too this time. She knew you did because your fingers tightened against her arm. Just slightly. You tilted your head towards her, voice low enough that only she could hear.

"You seeing this?" You murmured, eyes flicking up again.

Natasha was suddenly very aware of the warmth of your fingers and the faint scent of your perfume.

Her chest tightened. She kept walking and did not change pace.

"Yeah. I see it."

This was different.

This was not hope. This was not timing or miscommunication. This was protocol. 

A couple not kissing under mistletoe was noticeable. Suspicious. The kind of detail that lingered in the wrong mind. If anyone was watching - and someone always was - you should do it. 

You knew it. Natasha knew it.

She had done far worse things for far worse reasons.

Natasha angled her body slightly, shielding you from most of the room. 

"We should..." She said quietly.

You swallowed, meeting her eyes. 

"Yeah," you agreed. "We probably should." 

Neither of you moved.

The air between you felt charged in a way it never had before. This was something dangerously close to real, and Natasha suddenly noticed everything - the warmth of your hand as your fingers twitched, the change in your breathing, the way your gaze flicked to her mouth and back up.

She told herself this was fine.

This was just part of the job.

Except she did not want it to be part of the job. Or of any job.

But since when was she lucky enough to have what she wanted?

She lowered her voice, offering you a practiced smile. 

"Follow my lead?"

You nodded and Natasha leaned in.

Not fast but not hesitant either. Just enough to close the distance, to make it look natural. Her hand settled at your waist, fingers resting there like they belonged, like she had done it a thousand times and knew the shape. 

You inhaled sharply, and for one terrifying second, she thought you might pull away.

But you stayed and Natasha could feel your warmth. Your proximity. The possibility of it.

She thought that was it this time. It had to be. She could feel your breath mingling with hers, your lips hovered so close she could almost feel them.

So, of fucking course, something had to go wrong.

"Guys, problem."

The voice cut through both your comms - urgent and clipped.

Natasha froze, eyes briefly flicking to yours.

Her jaw tightened as she pulled back just enough to be able to breathe again. 

"Go." She whispered, trying not to crumble as you pressed your forehead to hers, trying to maintain your cover, holding the illusion.

"Changes of plan, target’s mobile," Clint grunted. "Heading toward the service corridor now. Armed."

The moment shattered. You pressed your lips into a thin line, quickly glancing around the room.

Natasha stepped back, her hand dropping from your waist like it never belonged there. Her face reseted into something cool and professional, eyes already scanning the corridor Clint indicated.

"Sorry," she murmured, besides not being entirely sure why she was apologizing. "We’re moving."

You did not argue. You rarely did.

You pivoted smoothly, fingers slipping into hers as you laughed softly, leaning into her like you were tipsy. You headed for the exit together, mistletoe disappearing behind you.

No kiss.

No questions.

No witnesses.

The mission proceeded without incident after that. The extraction was clean. The intel was solid. The debrief was efficient. Everyone congratulated everyone else on a job well done.

Natasha nodded in the right places. Answered when addressed. Kept her expression carefully neutral.

But something had shifted.

Later, when you were the only two left in the room, shaking off your cover identities, Natasha caught her reflection in the mirror.

She looked... tired.

You hovered nearby, awkward in that way that suggested you wanted to say something but did not know how. Natasha felt it like pressure against her ribs.

"We did good today." You said eventually.

Natasha sighed, looking at you in the mirror, her reflection meeting yours.

"Yeah," she said softly. "We did."

A beat passed.

She turned slowly, leaning back against the edge of the table behind her. The mission clothes were gone, swapped for casual sweatpants that felt heavier than it should. Her fingers tapped once against her thigh.

She could still feel where your lips almost touched hers. Like a scar that was not there yet but already hurt like hell. Natasha decided it was better to shove those thoughts down deep and locked them away. Because feelings were not an option for people like her. Or at least, she liked to pretend that was the truth.

"You good?" You asked, smiling softly, fingers twitching at your sides, aching to slip into hers again. 

Natasha looked up, forcing something that resembled a smile onto her face. It came out too tight.

She considered lying.

Instead, she exhaled loudly.

"Mhm, just thinking, you know." 

You smiled faintly, eyes trailing over her features. 

"You’ve been doing that a lot lately."

She did not respond. Because the truth was too messy, too complicated and ridiculous to put into words.

Every time there was a reason, something got in the way. Every time there was logic, or tradition, or an excuse that made it safe - the universe intervened. Interrupted. Redirected.

Like it was warning her.

Like it was telling her to stop looking into this.

And maybe it was the truth. Maybe this was not supposed to happen.

Maybe she was misreading everything. The looks. The closeness. The way you fit so easily into her space. Maybe that was just what happened when you trusted someone with most of yourself. When you worked well together.

Natasha had survived by knowing when to listen to patterns.

And the pattern felt clear.

You pursed your lips, fingers tapping against your side before you eventually made up your mind and headed out of the room. 

"Well... Good night, Nat. Try not to think too much, yeah?"

Natasha waited until you were gone before letting her shoulders slump.

Her fingers curled into a loose fist at her side - not from anger. From absence, from the ghost of something that almost was, again and again and again.

"Good night." She whispered to the empty room - too late, too soft for anyone to hear.

Somewhere, in some other hallway, there was probably another mistletoe hanging over a doorway, waiting to be noticed.

Natasha decided she was done looking.

- ⧗ -

She planned this one. 

Because if the universe was not on her side, she was done waiting for it to change its mind. She was going to provoke it. She was done waiting for it to happen. She had enough, she was going to make it happen herself. 

So she thought. 

And thought.

And planned.

She told herself it was tactical. The debriefing room was neutral territory. Routine. Boring enough that no one looked too closely at such small details.

And you were always early.

So was she.

She taped the mistletoe up the night before, using a strip of clear adhesive she kept tucked in the back of her desk drawer. It was small, totally unassuming and easy to miss if you were not looking for it.

But she was looking for it.

The next morning, she arrived ten minutes early, coffee in hand, heart steady. The room was empty, the table pristine, the chairs pushed in neatly. The mistletoe hung exactly where she intended - above the narrow space at the head of the table, just inside the entrance, where people inevitably paused before taking their seats.

She stood beneath it and waited.

You arrived two minutes later.

Natasha felt you before she saw you - the shift in the air, the quiet recognition that had become instinctive. She looked up just as you stepped into the doorway, hair still damp from a rushed shower, tablet tucked under your arm.

"Oh, morning, Nat!" You said easily, lifting your mug for a sip.

"Hey, morning." She replied, eyes tracking your movements.

You walked toward her without thinking, stopping just across from her at the head of the table. Close enough that she could smell the content of your mug. Close enough that she had to consciously slow her breathing.

The mistletoe hung between you, right above your heads, she knew it.

You did not notice it. Yet.

Impatience twisted in her chest, sharp and unfamiliar. Hope followed close behind. She cleared her throat.

"Before everyone gets here..." She started, carefully.

You glanced up at her, attentive. 

"Yeah?" Your eyes eventually caught the sight of the green leaves between the two of you, lips parting.

This was it.

She was about to say it. About to point out. About to make it obvious enough that neither of you had to second guess anything ever again.

And then -

Her phone buzzed.

Natasha closed her eyes for half a second, wincing.

"Shit, sorry," she muttered, glancing at her screen. "I’ll be right back, please just... hold on."

You smiled without thinking, waving her off. 

"Take your time."

She stepped out into the hall, answering the call in clipped, efficient tones. It was nothing urgent. A scheduling clarification with Maria. Something that absolutely could have waited.

It took two minutes.

Two ridiculously small, tiny insignificant minutes.

When Natasha walked back into the debriefing room, the first thing she saw was Steve Rogers’s broad shoulders.

Because he was standing where she had been standing.

Where you had been standing with her.

And you were still there, now right in front of him, chin tilted up and cheeks flushed with laughter at the look on his face.

Steve had leaned in.

It was quick. Very polite. Barely a brush. An awkward peck and undeniably platonic that meant nothing and fulfilled everything.

Steve pulled back immediately, ears red.

"Relax, Rogers." You laughed, warm and totally unbothered, patting his arm before heading to your usual seat as Sam and Bucky entered the space as well, bickering as usual.

Natasha stopped in the doorway.

Her body went very still, a tight and foreign feeling locking at the base of her throat.

Steve noticed her and froze like he had been caught doing something illegal. 

"Nat, h-hey!"

She nodded, not finding her voice.

Controlled. Professional.

She took her seat without another word.

The rest of the team quickly filtered in, filling the room with chatter and motion. Clint even kissed Wanda's cheek as they both entered the room at the same time - the green thing she did not want to name anymore hanging between them. 

The meeting began. Slides clicked past on the screen. Mission updates, logistics, timelines.

Natasha did not miss a single detail.

She also did not stop glaring at Steve, she could not help it.

He tried not to look at her. When he eventually did, he looked apologetic. Mortified. He had not meant anything by it - she knew that. He saw mistletoe, thought rule, followed it like the decent, well-adjusted person he was. 

That was what made it unbearable.

You sat two seats down from her, faint smile lingering as you tapped notes into your tablet. You did not look uncomfortable. You did not look regretful or conflicted.

You looked normal.

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She knew she did not have a right to this feeling. She had not say anything. Had not claimed anything. Had not acted when she had the chance, instead walked away when it mattered.

Still, it burned.

She kept her hands folded on the table, fingers laced tightly together. Kept her expression unreadable.

When the meeting finally ended, chairs scraped back and people stood.

"Hey, Nat? Didn't you want to talk to me before we started?" You asked, linguering by the door.

Natasha shook her head and watched you leave like most of the time.

When the room eventually emptied, she reached up and tore the mistletoe down in one clean motion. The tape peeled away without resistance.

She stared at the small green bundle in her hand.

This one was on her. She set it up, planned it, and gave herself the opening.

And still - still - it went to someone else.

Natasha dropped the mistletoe into the trash on her way out.

- ⧗ -

She did not overthink this one. 

That was what she told herself when she asked you.

It was casual, deliberately so. A quiet moment at the end of the team training session, both of you leaning against the railing overlooking the gym floor. Sweat cooling over your glistening skins. She kept her tone even, relaxed.

"Movie night tonight, my place?" She asked.

She did not clarify further. She did not explain, she simply let the words sit there and hoped they mean what she wanted them to mean.

"Sure, I'd like that." You smiled, nodding eagerly. 

Natasha spent the rest of the day pretending this was nothing.

She did not rush back to her quarters. She did not obsessively check the time. She absolutely did not stand in front of her closet longer than necessary.

She did, however, clean.

Her quarters were already pretty immaculate, but she slightly straightened the throw blanket anyway. Adjusted the lighting to something softer. Lined up the drinks on her counter with unnecessary precision.

And then there was the mistletoe.

She hesitated, holding it between her fingers.

It was smaller than the others. Unassuming. Harmless, really. So, how bad could it possibly be this time? 

She sighed, telling herself it would be the last time. 

She taped it carefully to the ceiling above the couch - not directly overhead, just enough that it might be noticed if someone looked up. If you looked up.

Eventually. Possibly. Maybe.

She stepped back and assessed the room.

She felt... hopeful.

That should have been her first warning.

The knock came right on time. Natasha’s heart kicked against her ribs as she crossed the room, smoothing her expression into something calm. She opened the door - 

And found her sister standing there, grinning like she had won something.

"Hey, sestra. Movie night!" Yelena announced, already stepping inside. "I brought the good snacks."

Behind her, Wanda waved two bags of chips with a beaming smile on her face. 

"Hope that’s okay."

"I’ve never been in your quarters before. This is so cool!" Kate bounced on her heels, eyes sparkling. 

Natasha blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"...What?" 

But they were already moving inside, already settling in, already making themselves comfortable like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Why are you looking at me like that? This was your idea." Yelena snorted, cheerfully flopping onto the couch, grumbling about it being way better than the one in her own quarters.

"No. It was not." Natasha replied carefully, trying not to let her voice sound like she was on the verge of strangling someone.

Wanda paused, sensing the shift. 

"What? But, wait, Yelena sai-"

"What are you talking about? I heard you asked her earlier." Yelena continued cheerfully, waving toward you as you appeared at the doorway. "Thought it was a girls’ night."

You hesitated when you saw everyone else, then smiled sheepishly. 

"Hey...?"

Your hand found hers automatically, squeezing once, almost in quiet apology.

Natasha felt something inside her give way. 

Her fingers curled around yours without thinking. Her eyes softened despite her best effort.

"Hi."

"You okay?" You asked quietly, fingers lingering, thumb brushing her knuckles.

Natasha looked around the room. Yelena sprawled against the cushions like she lived here. Wanda was already opening snacks with a joyful smile on her face. Kate was admiring the view from the window.

Her hand stayed where it was.

"Fine." She replied, meeting your gaze again.

It was not, not really. It was not what she planned at all, at least.

Her eyes flicked upward. The mistletoe was still taped above the couch. Still waiting.

Her stomach dropped.

"Mhm, make yourself at home, I guess." She muttered, already moving.

She circled behind the couch, reached up, and tore it down in one swift motion - stuffing it into her pocket before anyone could say a word.

Kate squinted, looking confused. 

"Was th-"

 Natasha dropped onto the couch and lobbed the remote at her.

"Nothing," she said sharply, fixing Kate with a look that made her close her mouth really fast. "It was nothing. Come on, I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie."

The movie started eventually, once everyone agreed on which one to put on. Laughter filled the room, snacks were passed, someone complimented the lighting - making Natasha bite the inside of her cheek. Wanda curled up at one end of the couch. Yelena kicked her boots off without asking.

You sat beside Natasha, close but not close enough. Your knee brushed hers occasionally, familiar and warm.

She did not try again.

She did not angle herself closer. Did not wait for a moment when the others were distracted.

She did not look for openings anymore.

When the second movie ended and everyone started talking over each other, your head nearly resting on her shoulder, Natasha stood. 

"I’m calling it a night."

"Already?" Yelena pouted.

"We have been at it for three hours. We have training tomorrow." Natasha reminded her, collecting the empty glasses around the living room, pointedly avoiding looking at you.

"You’re so old." Her sister laughed, rolling her eyes as she headed for the door.

You lingered, concern flickering as you stood to help tidy up. You bumped her shoulder lightly while the other girls walked out - too engrossed in their argument about the movie to care. 

"Hey, grinch. You’re sure everything’s alright?"

Natasha glanced at you, not moving away but not closing the distance either.

"Yeah, of course."

Her voice came out sharp. Unnecessarily so. She was not angry at you - far from it - but the way things went tonight hurt. And she hated how much it had gotten under her skin.

"Just tired. Yelena can be quite exhausting, you know."

You huffed out a laugh, smiling at her, disappointed but understanding. 

"Well, good night, Nat. Thanks for tonight, it was pretty fun." You said softly, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek before leaving her quarters as well.

Her lips twitched at the contact.

She waited until the door closed behind you before exhaling. 

Natasha pulled out the mistletoe from her pocket and stared at it for a long moment. Then she dropped it in the trash.

She did not put it back up, she did not keep it.

She sat on the edge of her bed, hands resting on her knees, letting the quiet settle. It felt like aborting a mission.

But some things were not meant to be forced.

Some things were better left alone.

And some things, no matter how badly she wanted them, were never going to be hers.

- ⧗ -

The compound smelled like pine, sugar cookies, and burnt popcorn. Because yes, Yelena had tried to make fudge for them and yes, it went horribly wrong. 

Natasha knew better than to intervene. She slipped past the kitchen, carrying a tray of eggnog Wanda had thrust into her hands, and made a strategic retreat while the smoke alarm screamed behind her. 

Yelena shouted something very offensive at it in Russian.

Part of the festive chaos, she supposed.

You were already there, perched on the arm of the couch with a mug of hot chocolate cradled between your hands, laughing softly at something Sam was saying. 

Natasha watched you for a second too long, heart doing that stupid thing it did when you were close. Skipping, stuttering, acting like it had not learned its lesson after the past few weeks. She shook her head once, telling herself rather firmly not to think about it. About you.

She set the tray down in front of the couch, teeth sinking into her lower lip.

You looked up at her and smiled. A little sheepish. A little teasing.

"Tryna get me drunk, Romanoff?" You murmured, and for a moment, the room and the chaos shrunk. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, lips tugging into a smile she did not bother hiding.

"Would that be so bad? I feel like we might need it. I mean-" She gestured vaguely at the chaos. "Look at this." 

You laughed, warm and bright, and for a heartbeat everything else fell away.

It always did when you were around.

Natasha shook herself out of it, eyes drifting towards the fireplace, pretending to check the stockings, but she kept one eye on you. 

The party ebbed and flowed. Clint had already left to see his family. Sam and Bucky were deep in a heated argument about Die Hard. Tony was trying to tug Pepper away. Kate was helping Wanda salvage the fudge while Yelena was trying to put a scarf around her dog - who absolutely did not want it.

Natasha glanced around, heart tightening. There was laughter everywhere. Light everywhere. Presents everywhere. And still - none of it mattered, because all she wanted was you.

She shook her head for what had to be the hundredth time that night, scolding herself for being so hopeless and pathetic and...

Fortunately, before anyone knew it, it was time for presents. You and Natasha sat cross-legged on the floor with the pile of gifts. The team exchanged small presents, teasing and laughing. Natasha’s gift for you was the last you opened. You unwrapped it carefully - and your breath caught as you lifted the lid.

Inside was a beautiful sweater, with an embroidered image just above where the heart was supposed to be. You recognized immediately - it was a photo you took at some bar after your first mission with the whole team. You were all squished together and asked the first passerby to take the picture for you. You were still in your uniforms, sweaty and dirty, but it was one of your favorite memories of the time. With your family. And Natasha knew it. 

You ran your fingers over the stitching, eyes wide and damp with emotion.

"Oh... Nat," you whispered, heart full. "This... I love it." 

Something tight in Natasha's chest finally loosened. She had almost backed out a dozen times. Almost gave up on the idea more than once after convincing herself it was too much. But seeing you now, eyes shining, a soft smile on your face made it all worth it.

She shrugged, trying not to look too pleased. It was not working.

"Yeah? I'm glad. Thought you might like it." She whispered, clearing her throat.

You hugged the gift to your chest, still looking back at her. 

"I... I can’t believe you thought of this. It’s perfect."

Natasha had to look away. Because your face was too soft, your eyes too bright. And her heart, well, it was a traitor.

"You're welcome," she said, trying to downplay it. "Merry Christmas."

You smiled widely, standing up with your little pile of presents and walked them to the edge of the kitchen island. You quickly pulled the sweater on, adjusting the hood and melting in its warmth. 

Your eyes flicked to the mistletoe hanging in the small archway between the lounge and kitchen. A tiny, dangling sprig of green, perfectly placed, perfectly harmless. Right where you were. And suddenly, an idea formed. You felt a surge of boldness as your eyes settled back on a certain redhead. You took a deep breath, you could always blame the alcohol if it did not work out - but somehow, part of you already knew it would.

"Hey, Nat?" You murmured, catching her attention. "Can you... come here for a sec?"

Natasha looked up, seeing you bathed in golden light from the tree, wearing her gift like it meant something. Like it mattered.

Like you were the one who planned this.

She hesitated, eyes glancing around suspiciously. Then took a step, then another. Until she was standing directly in front of you, close enough to feel your warmth, to see the flicker of determination in your eyes.

You reached up, fingers curling into the fabric of her soft shirt, tugging her just an inch more until there was no space left between hesitation and action.

"Don’t tell anyone else I said this but... Thank you so much for the best gift." You whispered against her ear, arms wrapping around her in a tight hug.

Natasha inhaled sharply. 

She had not expected the hug, but her whole body relaxed into it anyway. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you like she had been waiting to do this for far too long.

"You're welcome, really." She murmured, smiling into your shoulder.

You pulled back with sparkling eyes, teeth sinking in your lower lip as you glanced above, making sure she followed the movement.

Natasha’s breath hitched in anticipation, the hair at the back of her neck standing up as if to indicate her where to look.

Mistletoe.

Again.

But this time - it was not part of her plan. It was not a mission trick. No alarms. No interruptions.

It was just you. Smiling at her like you knew it had been there. Like you had known all along how to break through every wall she had ever built.

And maybe you did.

The noise around you faded. The laughter. The music. Yelena’s off-key singing.

Just this moment. Just here.

Natasha looked at you, emotions thick in her throat. She did not trust herself to speak. Her gaze softened, tension draining out of her all at once to spark between you instead.

She took a small breath, lips stretching into a small smile at the expecting look on your face, then tilted her head closer.

You closed the rest of the distance. Your lips met hers halfway, soft at first, testing, savoring, mindful of the people around.

Natasha let her eyes flutter shut. She kissed back immediately, fingers finding yours and lacing together as if she was anchoring herself in this moment, finally letting herself give in. 

She forgot everything. All of the reasons why she should not do this. All of the people around. The past year of waiting. The tension she felt whenever you were too close. She forgot everything, and just focused on you. Your soft lips against hers, moving gently.

It was just a kiss. Just a kiss, but oh God, Natasha felt light-headed. She pulled you closer, her free hand gently cupping your cheek to make your lips meet hers again in a better angle - kissing you again like she had been starving for it.

Somewhere behind you, someone wolf-whistled.

Neither of you really cared. There was just this, the warmth of her, the quiet thrill of finally crossing the line you both danced around for so long.

You pulled back first, foreheads touching, breath mingling as you grinned.

"Finally." You whispered, lips stretching into a grin.

"Finally...?" Natasha echoed, huffing a quiet laugh. She opened her eyes slowly, meeting your gaze again. "Oh, I'm sorry. You were getting impatient?"

Her heart was pounding like she had just run a mile. Her thumb brushed your bottom lip, affectionate and unguarded.

"You literally have no idea how many times I tried to get you under a stupid mistletoe to ask you for a kiss." She grumbled, frowning slightly.

You smiled, eyes warm and amused.

"Yeah? Well," you said sweetly, shrugging. "You got me under one now. Merry Christmas, Nat."

She laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief before leaning in to press a quick and victorious kiss to your lips - under a stupid sprig of green that had never had any real power at all.

The two of you stayed there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other while the party roared back into existence around you.

This time, the kiss was hers to claim. The chaos of the party and your friends’ teasing could wait - because right now, everything felt exactly, wonderfully perfect.

Because this time, it worked.

⧗ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[randomgirlduh]

Just a Trend - Natasha Romanoff

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

summary: a quiet afternoon at the compound, a silly TikTok trend, and a kiss that had been waiting longer than either of them realized.

tags/warnings: domestic fluff, kissing, soft natasha.

author's note: hey! this is my first time writing something like this in a very long time. i’ve been seeing this trend on tiktok for a while and thought it would be cute to write something inspired by it.

also, english isn’t my first language, so sorry if there are any mistakes. i hope you enjoy it 🤍

The compound felt slow that day, the kind of quiet that settled in when no one was rushing anywhere and nothing needed immediate attention. The living room lights were dimmed just enough to feel warm, and the TV was on more out of habit than interest. Y/N was stretched out on one side of the couch, phone in hand, scrolling lazily while the movie played in the background.

Natasha arrived the way she always did, effortlessly blending into the space. A soft “Hey,” and then she sat down beside her, close but unassuming, like she belonged there. Their shoulders brushed, familiar contact neither of them acknowledged. Natasha didn’t move away. She never did.

They stayed like that for a while, half-watching the movie, occasionally commenting or laughing quietly at moments that weren’t even meant to be funny. Natasha leaned back into the couch, relaxed, legs stretched out, one arm resting along the back cushion behind her. It wasn’t quite touching, but it was close enough to feel intentional. Y/N stole glances when she thought Natasha wasn’t looking, missing the way Natasha glanced back just as often.

Her scrolling slowed when she landed on a video that made her pause.

"Kissing my best friend to see his reaction"

Y/N glanced sideways at Natasha. She looked calm, focused on the screen, expression soft in a way she rarely let anyone see. Comfortable. Careful. The idea felt silly, harmless even, but it lingered longer than it should have. Natasha always did that to her.

After a few more minutes, Natasha sat up slightly. “I’m gonna grab a snack,” she said, already standing. “Be right back.”

Y/N nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral as Natasha headed toward the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight, she leaned forward and placed her phone on the coffee table, angling it casually against a stack of magazines. The camera faced the couch, subtle enough to go unnoticed, like it had just been set down and forgotten.

Natasha returned not long after, bowl in hand, and dropped back onto the couch with the same ease as before. Their knees bumped gently. Natasha glanced down at the contact, then didn’t move away. Instead, she shifted just enough that their legs stayed pressed together.

The movie kept playing, but neither of them was really paying attention anymore. The room felt quieter, heavier in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable. Natasha turned slightly toward her, eyes soft, like she was waiting for something without knowing what.

Y/N turned her head to look at her.

Natasha noticed immediately, gaze lifting to meet hers. There was a pause, small and fragile, before Y/N leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss was soft and careful, unhurried and warm.

Natasha stayed still for a heartbeat, surprise flickering across her face, but it didn’t last. She melted into it almost immediately, like she’d been bracing herself for something she secretly wanted. Her hands came up instinctively, cupping Y/N’s face, thumbs brushing gently against her skin as she kissed her back with quiet certainty.

When they pulled away, neither of them moved very far. Natasha stayed close, her hands still resting on Y/N’s face for a moment longer than necessary, like she was grounding herself in the feeling. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“Took you long enough,” she murmured softly.

Y/N blinked, breathless. “You knew?”

Natasha shrugged slightly, forehead brushing hers. “I hoped.”

Then she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N’s forehead, unhurried and intentional. Natasha shifted first, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in without asking, like it was already decided. Y/N let herself be guided closer, fitting easily against Natasha’s side.

Natasha adjusted them both until Y/N was curled up against her chest, legs tucked in, head resting just below her collarbone. She rested her chin lightly on top of her head, one hand tracing slow, absent-minded patterns along her arm. Comfortable. Protective. Like this had always been the plan.

The movie continued to play in the background, completely forgotten. The compound stayed quiet and warm, unchanged, except for the way everything suddenly felt softer.

On the coffee table, the phone remained where it had been left, recording nothing more than an ordinary afternoon that had quietly turned into something else entirely.

Natasha held her a little closer, like she wasn’t going anywhere.

And neither of them felt the need to move.

[yanttzz]

Talk To Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You love talking to Natasha, because she always listen (and because you don't have who other to talk to). But you stopped when she got mad at you for talking.

Word Count: 1300+

Genre: angst, fluff

The mission had been rougher than usual. 

Nothing Natasha couldn’t handle, but enough to leave her exhausted. Too many hours without sleep. Too many close calls.  

By the time the quinjet landed, every muscle in her body ached. She wanted a shower, a little quiet, maybe something warm to drink. Nothing more.  

The compound halls were mostly dark, everyone either asleep or in their rooms. Natasha moved silently, her hair still damp from the rain she’d flown through. 

She stopped by the kitchen to get something to drink. The kitchen at night was always her favourite place. It was quiet, dim and soft. Her little slice of peace before collapsing into bed.  

She expected silence.  

But instead, she walked in and froze at the sight of you.  

You were perched on the counter, legs swinging, the fridge light glowing behind you like a cheap halo. You looked comfortable. At ease. Like this was your safe place too.  

You glanced up when you heard her footsteps and your entire face lit up. 

“Oh, I didn’t think anyone was still awake,” you said, voice warm, “I was just getting a snack and then I remembered something and I figured I’d wait a bit in case you came back tonight.” 

Natasha blinked slowly, exhausting pulling at her expression as she shrugged off her jacket. You didn’t notice how drained she looked. You only noticed that she was here. 

“And uh... how was the mission? I mean, obviously you’re back, so you survived, which is great, but I bet it was stressful and you’re probably hungry. Did you know elephants actually...” 

You were already rambling before she reached the kettle. Your hands moved animatedly, your voice spinning from elephants to cream sauces. Every thought tumbling out of you with that bright, breathless energy Natasha usually found comforting.  

Usually. But she had been awake for nearly 36 hours. Her head throbbed. Her nerves were raw. And you continued without noticing. 

“...and I tried that pasta recipe you taught me, but I think I whisked the sauce wrong. Do you whisk sauces? I'm not sure, I probably whisked the wrong thing honestly, but anyways...” 

Natasha sat heavily on the stool at the counter, rubbing her eyes. Your voice kept going. Soft, cheerful and relentless.  

“And I was thinking that tomorrow, if you’re not too busy, we could try making it again, because even though it tasted kind of okay I think I messed up the...” 

“Please, stop!” 

The words landed sharp enough to slice through your sentence.  

You blinked, “Oh. Sorry, was I...” 

Natasha pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, “Can you just... stop talking for one minute?” she snapped, “You talk too much sometimes. You don’t have to fill every second with noise. I just... please. Shut up for a second.” 

The kitchen felt instantly colder. You didn’t speak. Didn't try to explain. Didn't even breathe for a moment. 

Natasha didn’t look back at you. She just pushed away from the counter, mumbling something about sleep and disappearing down the hallway. 

You stayed frozen on the countertop, fingers curled tightly against your palms, the familiar warmth in your chest extinguished in one clean blow.  

You had thought she liked listening. 

You had thought she liked you. 

~ 

The next day silence replaced everything. 

When Natasha entered a room, you left. Not dramatically, just quietly, quickly, like a shadow slipping away from the light. 

You barely said a word. Not to Natasha, not to the others. But it hit Natasha harder that anyone. 

The first morning, she assumed you were still waking up.  

The second, she frowned when you answered her “good morning” with a quiet nod and escaped immediately. 

By the third, she stood outside the gym for a full minute, watching you wipe down equipment, headphones on, pretending not to notice her. 

“Hey,” she tried. 

You only murmured, “Don’t worry. I'm almost done,” and left the room before she could say another word. 

On the fourth day, Natasha walked into the living room only to watch you stand up mid-conversation with Wanda and disappear without a glance.  

Wanda frowned after you. 

Natasha felt something twist painfully inside her. 

On the fifth day, the silence felt like punishment. 

But the worst part was the part that made Natasha’s stomach drop. It was the way you refused to even look at her, as if eye contact alone was too much to risk. 

Natasha couldn’t take it anymore. 

She went straight to your room. No knocking. No waiting. 

She opened the door to find you sitting on the bed, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves covering half your hands as you stared at the wall like it was safer than anything else. 

“Okay,” Natasha said, closing the door behind her, “That’s enough. You’re going to talk to me.” 

You didn’t move. She came closer but kept a careful distance. 

“Detka.” 

Nothing. Her voice softened in a way only you ever heard. 

“Please.” 

You swallowed, looking down, “I thought that’s what you didn’t want. Me talking.” 

Natasha looked like you’d stabbed her, “What do you mean?” 

Your fingers tightened in the fabric of your sleeves, “You said I talk too much,” you whispered, voice thin, “That I should shut up. So I did.” 

Natasha took a slow step closer, shaking her head immediately, “Y/N… I was exhausted. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean...” 

“But you did,” you said quietly, finally lifting your eyes to meet hers. The hurt there made Natasha’s breath catch, “And you were right.” 

Natasha froze, “Right?” 

You nodded, a broken little movement, “I do talk too much. I don’t know how to shut up. I don’t know how to be… quiet like the others. I ramble. I overshare. I get excited and I don’t stop to think and I annoy people.” 

Natasha’s chest tightened painfully. She shook her head again, more desperate this time. 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

Your laugh cracked halfway through, “Nat, you literally told me to shut up.” 

Natasha flinched like you’d struck her. 

“That wasn’t about you,” she said softly, “It was me. I was tired. I took it out on you. And it was wrong.” 

You shook your head, eyes dropping again, voice trembling. 

“It’s pathetic, you know,” you whispered, “How much I talk. How much I rely on you. How you’re the only person I feel comfortable rambling to. The only person I talk to at all.” 

Natasha slowly sat down beside the bed, close enough to reach you if you let her. 

You didn’t look up. 

“I don’t have family. I don’t have friends. I don’t have anyone,” you said, voice almost too quiet to hear, “Just you. And I ruined even that.” 

Natasha exhaled sharply, emotion tightening her throat. 

“Stop,” she whispered, leaning forward slightly, “Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true.” 

“No,” Natasha said, more firmly, “It’s not.” 

You blinked, startled by the sudden strength in her tone. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Natasha continued, her voice gentling again, “I did that. With one careless sentence. And I’ve regretted it every second since.” 

You swallowed hard, looking at your hands. 

Natasha hesitated, then reached out slowly and gently touched your wrist. 

“Hey,” she murmured, waiting until you looked at her, “You’re not too much. You’re not annoying. And you’re definitely not pathetic.” 

Your eyes glossed with tears you tried to blink away. Natasha leaned a little closer. 

“I miss your voice,” she whispered. 

You froze. 

“I miss the way you talk about things that excite you. I miss listening to you. I miss how… alive you sound when you ramble,” she swallowed, voice almost breaking, “I’ve missed you every single day you’ve been quiet.” 

Your breath hitched. 

“You really… want me to talk again?” 

Natasha nodded immediately, almost desperately. 

“I want you,” she said softly, “just as you are. All of you. Every word.” 

You breathed out shakily, and for the first time in days, your voice didn’t sound hollow. 

“…Okay.” 

Natasha’s shoulders dropped in relief. She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for five days. 

“Good,” she whispered, eyes softening, “Now come here.” 

This time, when she opened her arms, you didn’t hesitate. 

You sank into her and Natasha held you like she’d been waiting forever for you to let her. 

Tag list: @mirage018 @yelldontwhisper @canvascoloredin @perfectlyfoggycloud @taliiiaasteria @checkenlittlsblog

[idkhyi]

Jurassic survival

Zora Bennett x Reader

Age gap and smut

Reader without a survival instinct

Words: 2883

English is not my native language

You don't know what you were thinking when you agreed to this trip with your friend's family and her boyfriend. Now you were screaming desperately for help in the direction of a boat that was apparently coming to assist. To make matters worse, before the accident, you were lying down trying to get a tan, only wearing a Brazilian-style bikini. But you managed to quickly grab a shirt which, unfortunately, was transparent and quite thin.

You managed to climb onto the boat with the help of a blonde woman who, upon seeing your state, brought you inside and wrapped you in a towel.

While the others talked with your friend's family, the blonde woman carefully guided you further inside; you were scared and trembling. She offered you a piece of clothing, and you accepted with a nod.

When you returned to where everyone was, you sat huddled in the corner. The blonde couldn't take her eyes off you, but she knew how to hide it.

"Do you know what brought your boat down?" a man asks. "I don't know, it was a creature about sixty feet long," your friend's father replies.

"Did it have a serpent body? A large head and a long snout?" "Yes, yes," your best friend responds, still nervous. The man continues to ask questions, but you don't pay attention. You study your surroundings, and the blonde woman notices.

Another man, who you discover is named Duncan, asks what you were doing in the middle of the sea with a child. Teresa takes a deep breath while her father argues with the man. You stand up, your arms still wrapped around your body. "What are you doing here? What are you doing here with all this equipment?" A man, overly well-dressed for the location, tries to approach but stops. "That's none of your business," he says sharply to you. "Hey, hey, hey," the blonde says, glaring at him, but then gives a laugh with false nervousness. "We're going to take a small detour to pick up something important."

A discussion starts again; your friend begins to speak loudly, demanding an answer. Her father asks everyone to calm down. In the middle of all the arguing, something hits the side of the boat, knocking you to the floor. "What the hell was that?" You ask as you try to stand up, but the boat begins to get rough and sway from side to side. The blonde was close to you and helped you up. "Stay away from the edge of the boat," she says before running off.

You are desperate, and everything worsens when you see a man being dragged away by a dinosaur. You scream so loud that your friend, who is already scared, shudders. Everything starts to get rough again. Your friend grabs your hand while her boyfriend is thrown against the wall. Your little sister hangs onto the boat's railing and narrowly escapes.

Another strong wave and you are thrown to the outside area of the boat, but you manage to get up and run to the back where your friend's father and sister are. You start to tremble as you watch everything around you, and it only gets worse when you hear Teresa's scream, followed by Xavier throwing himself into the sea. Your friend's father looks at you, and you already understand that you are going to jump. He tries to calm the child, and when he jumps, you close your eyes tightly.

Some screams are heard, but you try to ignore them. Grabbing a life vest, you take a deep breath, and just as you are about to jump, arms grab your waist. "You're not doing that; we have to stick together," the blonde woman shouts at you. Your feet hit the floor, and you try to break free as she drags you inside. "They are my friends," "What the fuck, let me go," your screams are desperate as you struggle in her arms. "We're already far from them; stop fighting." You start crying when she lets go, but everything is still agitated. She runs outside again while you try to hold on to something. A few minutes later, a loud bang is the warning that you have reached dry land.

Slowly, you get out of where you were, and the woman helps you descend from the boat. Your breathing is ragged, and your hands are shaking. You look at the sea and see some dinosaurs near the boxes. Your heart speeds up even more, and Zora places herself in front of you.

A scream echoes, and you realize what happened and close your eyes tightly. "Calm down," she says, and you just nod frantically as tears stream down your face. You should have jumped with your friend's family; now they must think you only thought of yourself.

Zora stared at you and took a deep breath. Now she felt a kind of obligation, which was to take care of you and get you off the island alive. A young woman with her whole life ahead of her. She couldn't lose anyone else who was close by.

"What the hell, now we have this brat," a man shouts, and your expression of sadness immediately turns to anger. "I'm not a brat, who do you think you are to talk to me like that?"

"Hey, calm down," the blonde says to you. "And don't call her that," she gives the man a death stare. "Fine, if you want to adopt her for the rest of the mission, but don't let her interfere with our plans. I won't pay for her."

"What the hell is this mission and why are we on this damn island?" You shout once more, looking at the woman in front of you.

"Calm down, young lady," "I'm tired of you asking me to calm down, what the hell, I'm without my friends now and apparently I'm with strangers who came to play survival for a weekend?"

"I told you she was a brat."

"SHUT UP" you both scream at the same time.

Zora takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes again. "My name is Zora. I'm sorry you're here, but I promise I will do everything to get you out of this place alive."

You calm down a bit and look at her. "My name is Yn," "A beautiful name," she smiles slightly at you, still trying to maintain her calm. "Yn, do you promise me that you will stop screaming or asking questions during our time here?" "I promise I'll try." "That's already progress."

You are walking beside Zora. Your mind is on your friend and her family. Are they still alive? You don't like to show weakness; you've shown too much for one day. You refuse to cry, and Zora notices this.

When you entered a stream to continue your path, you simply didn't care anymore. Your fear of snakes and other animals that could be in that water was too much. Not to mention the greater fear you are feeling all the time, the risk of a dinosaur killing you at any moment. Your hands trembled slightly, and you moved even closer to Zora in that moment. She had been observing everything about you since the moment she rescued you. She felt your fear being fed even more with each passing moment, so she delicately took your hand and intertwined it with hers.

You looked at her, trying to hide your surprise, and gave a small smile of gratitude. Duncan looks at Zora and gives her a smile. You realized you were starting to attract attention, so you lowered your head and tried to pull your hand away, but she didn't allow it. "Don't mind them; I'll keep you safe."

Night arrived, and your fear increased. Few words were exchanged since the moment on the beach. When the group found a place that might be safe to spend the night, but with their guard up, they began to organize themselves for rest.

You sat down, leaning your back against a large rock, your hands wrapped around your legs. You searched for the blonde's gaze and realized she was finishing a conversation with the group. When she finished her little talk, Zora approached you and sat beside you.

You looked at her and took a deep breath before starting a conversation in a low tone. "I want to apologize for freaking out on you earlier today." "You were scared; it was natural." She replied, offering you a gentle smile.

When you were already falling asleep, she moved even closer to you and offered her shoulder for you to lean on. It wasn't the best night's sleep of your life, but you were feeling safe.

Early in the morning, the group started moving. Everyone realized you had absolutely no survival instinct. Well, you tripped three times because you were easily distracted. Deep down, they were betting you would be the next to die. You also thought the same thing.

Your eyes shone when you saw the dinosaurs; you had never been so close to one. In that moment, Zora only moved away from you to collect the DNA sample.

When you arrived at the cave, she refused to leave you alone with the men. And you didn't want to distance yourself from her either; she was the only person there who gave you a sense of security. Everything was new to you at that moment: the giant eggs. When the Quetzalcoatlus appeared, you let out a scared scream. Zora grabbed your hand and put you behind her.

Your moment had arrived, you were sure. Your heart was racing, and tears were streaming down your face. The rope was still tied to you. When Henry was in danger and Zora went to help him, you were pulled, and a scream alerted the blonde. "I'm going to die, damn it, I'm going to die."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," the older woman said desperately when she saw you hanging, and the rope about to snap. She used all her strength; you weren't heavy, but with the friction, the rope gave way.

"FUCK," she screamed as she heard your scream diminish. Zora didn't waste time and ran out of the cave towards where you were.

When your body touched the ground, you let out a laugh of relief, and the tears started flowing again. You were alive, somehow, but you were.

Zora found you and ran to you, checking for any signs of serious injury. "I'm fine, I'm alive," she let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. "You're alive."

Night arrived, and you reached the extraction point. You screamed for your friends. You wouldn't leave that island without them. Everything was happening so fast. You found your friends, and your friend ran towards you. When she saw Martin, she screamed, "He threw me off the boat," "You threw her off the boat?" Your voice was strained. A fight started, and he pulled a gun on you.

Zora was already on her way to take the gun from him when you had to run again. Your friend's hand didn't let go of yours, and you ended up separated from the blonde. You entered an abandoned convenience store, and Zora was outside figuring out a way to get out of there alive.

Your heart, for the thousandth time in these days, was racing more than it should. Fear always paralyzed you. Your body was acting on its own. When you were inside some tunnel, you didn't even know what it was. A loud noise snapped you out of your trance. Zora appeared, quickly drew her pistol, and started shooting. You closed your eyes tightly, and when the dinosaur died, she approached you. "Never leave my side again," her voice was firm, and you could only nod. She grabbed your hand and started looking for an exit.

Another obstacle, the day couldn't get any worse. Your friend's sister ran to open the gate. Everything was going wrong. The D-rex was approaching. She put you behind her, and unconsciously your hands squeezed the older woman's waist tightly.

Zora's heart pounded when her friend offered to save the group by distracting the dinosaur. At first, she refused, but when she carefully analyzed the situation, she could only hope for a miracle that he would make it out.

She helped you climb into the raft and jumped in right after. Your heart was beating so fast, and your breathing was ragged. Your hands were trembling, and Zora sat in front of you, holding your hands. "You're fine," "We're leaving here now; the danger is over," Zora's voice was shaky because of all the events; her mind was on her friend. "My dear, I protected you as I promised at the beginning," "I'm fine, I'm alive, you protected me," you said more to yourself than to her. Zora left a kiss on your forehead before being startled by the flare.

"We're going back," she shouts with great hope of getting her friend back.

The way back was peaceful. You were holding hands with your friend and, at the same time, in the arms of the woman who had looked after you. If it weren't for her, you would be dead, never seeing your family and friends again. You owed her everything.

When you arrived at the location where the team had been for the last time before setting off for the mission, Zora helped you out of the raft and didn't let go of your hand. You were still close to your friend.

Your mind was so tired that you weren't able to keep up with everything around you. All you knew was that everyone would go to a nearby hotel until they went their separate ways the next day.

Your friend's father and sister stayed in one room. Your friend and her boyfriend in another, and you were alone in a room. Zora stayed alone in a room, just like the others.

Your eyes wouldn't close. You tossed and turned. Despite the exhaustion, it was almost impossible to sleep. When your eyes closed, you saw the last few days. So, in the middle of the night, you knocked on her door, afraid of being refused.

Zora Bennett didn't do relationships; she had commitment issues; she was bad with feelings. She always ended up hurting someone. She blamed it on her lifestyle, but those days were over. After this mission, she was going to stop for good.

She didn't want to corrupt you, your innocent soul. However, when she heard the knock on the door, she couldn't ignore it. She wasn't capable of that.

She quickly got up and opened the door. When she saw you standing there, she made space for you to enter. Words weren't necessary in that moment. When the door closed, she hugged you and led you to the bed. You finally managed to sleep, embraced by her. Zora left kisses on your head. She inhaled the scent of your hair, the hotel shampoo smell.

She slept for twelve hours straight. She deserved it after the past few days. You, on the other hand, ended up sleeping for fifteen hours straight. She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw and felt was you hugging her, your grip, which had lightened during the night. Zora didn't move until you woke up.

When you woke up, you tried to move away, but she didn't let you. Your gaze met hers. "You're so beautiful, darling," your breath caught, and your eyes closed. The older woman closed the distance between you, and you surrendered completely.

You couldn't speak, only writhe as Zora's hands roamed your body. She moved on top, and when you gained distance, your shirt was removed. The blonde's gaze dropped from your eyes to your breasts. She approached again and took one of your already hardened nipples with her lips. You let out a moan.

She descended, distributing kisses along your body until she reached your lower half. She removed the remaining clothing and licked your vagina from bottom to top. Your hips involuntarily moved upwards. She sucked your clitoris before running her tongue over it. You closed your eyes and started to grind on her face. Two of the blonde's fingers began to toy with your entrance. Your moans started to become muffled because of the sheet you were biting at the moment. After a few minutes, you started convulsing with pleasure in the mouth of the woman who saved your life.

Zora hugged you, helping you through the orgasm. You kissed her and spoke incoherent words. As soon as you recovered, she got rid of the last of her own clothes and connected her intimacy with yours. You bit a part of the blonde's arm to keep from moaning loudly. She let out muffled moans, and her eyes were closed. Your hips were in a desperate dance. You wanted her to climax; she deserved to climax whenever and however many times she wanted. With a husky, muffled moan, she came undone inside you.

"You won't escape that easily, my princess."

"I want to be only yours, Zora."

[marvelselfinserts]

hi! idk if ure taking requests still buttt it's raining outside, im all cozied up, and i just cant stop thinking about (early relationship) reader and nat cuddling in bed and talking while waiting for the sunset.

that is until they both come to a disagreement about something or r brings up someone that nat is jealous of and doesnt like. things just get a tad bit heated—or at least thats what natty thinks– and she's expecting r to walk out and get mad like her exes did and feels bad about it, but instead, r just.... stays... and cuddles up even more, if that's even possible considering how close they are already.

r is all pouty (but not mad, contrary to what nat thinks) but cant bring herself to leave the bed bc hello! she's way too sleepy still and it's just a silly little disagreement that can be fixed over bfast. plus, their gf is way too warm and cosy. meanwhile the gf in question is overthinking and all—

ahhhh and the rest is up to u ! @_@ just let it end with fluff fluff fluff pls! i wanna be happy with nat :D

thank u so much & love ur works aaa !!!

Cozy

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader [A/N] Cute request! Thank you so much lovely ❤️ Hope you enjoy 😘

Rain pelts against the window and you can hear the wind howling, the trees rustling outside. You’re nice and warm though, cuddled up in your girlfriends’ arms in her bed as you watch the rain, waiting for the sun to set. It’s been a long day – you’d both been woken early to gear up for a mission you were supposed to leave for tonight only for it to turn out to be a false alarm. You and Natasha had returned to her place, both of you collapsing onto her bed without discussion, wrapping yourselves in each other’s embrace.

“I love you.” Natasha mumbles, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you more.” You mumble back.

Natasha’s fingers run through your hair, and you practically purr with pleasure. Life doesn’t get better than this. Awful weather outside but you’re safe and warm in bed with your favourite person. Your relationship is still relatively new but you’re already pretty sure that Natasha is the one. That person who you’ll spend the rest of your life with.

You run your fingers up and down Natasha’s bare arm “You’re so pretty.”

“Shut up, you’re way prettier.”

You smile, nuzzling into Natasha’s chest “Let’s just stay here for the rest of the night.”

“What about dinner?”

“We’ll order something. I’m not letting go.”

Natasha smiles, stroking her hand through your hair “Sounds good to me. We could watch a movie or something.”

“Oh My God, yes.” You look out the window again, hoping it keeps raining like this. The sound of the rain hitting the window, of the window whipping the trees around and feeling warm inside makes you feel so comfortable and cozy. Outside the sun is slowly starting to set, the thick clouds outside making it darker than usual.

“Carol kicked my ass at training today.” You tell her.

Natasha frowns “I’ll kick her ass.”

“It was good though. She’s so powerful, I like training with her. The more I work with her the stronger I’ll get and the better I’ll be out in the field.”

Natasha can’t help the sour feeling of jealousy that spreads through her. Since Carol had officially joined the Avengers a couple of months ago, you’d been choosing to train with her most days. Deep down she knows your reasoning makes sense – Carol is very powerful; she’s a great asset to the team. You’d been injured pretty badly after a mission last year and Natasha knew you’d been working harder than ever so you’d be sharper and better prepared going forward. She knew all that, but it still didn’t help that irrational feeling of jealousy – why didn’t you want to train with her? Natasha was a good fighter too.

“I wish I had powers like her.” You say thoughtfully, your gaze still out the window, unaware of how grumpy Natasha’s expression has turned “She’s so cool, she-”

“Why don’t you date her instead then?” Natasha snaps.

As soon as the words are out of her mouth she wants to take them back. Natasha sighs, closing her eyes. Why does she always do this? She gets jealous and then her temper gets the better of her. That’s why her previous girlfriend broke up with her. And the one before that.

You look up at her, surprised “What are you talking about?”

“You keep going on about how great she is! I’m great too y’know, I can take down ten men without any fancy powers-”

“I never said you weren’t great! But… Well, you must admit, Carol is pretty cool, it would be awesome to be able to fly and have powers like that-”

“Just shut up about Carol! Jeez.”

You pout sulkily and Natasha takes a shaky breath. This is it. It was inevitable. This is the moment where you’re going to climb out of this bed and leave her alone. Realise that you deserve better than her mood swings and her snapping. Everyone does eventually; you’re not going to be any different.

You’re still pouting as you wrap your arms tighter around her, snuggling into her chest again. Natasha’s nice and warm; you could sit here forever even if she is being grumpy. Maybe you had been a bit tactless talking about Carol while the two of you were cuddling though – it didn’t exactly set the mood. You’d only been excited to increase your stamina and improve your fighting skills. They were good – but definitely not up to scratch with Natasha’s.

Natasha is surprised when she feels you snuggle into her and now, she’s not sure what to do. Why aren’t you storming out? Her own arms tighten around you involuntarily, as if to stop you if you did suddenly decide to try and move. She leans her head against yours, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo, taking the opportunity to memorise everything about you for when you inevitably decide to get up and leave.

You are oblivious to Natasha’s racing thoughts as you yawn, your gaze still out the window as you watch the rain grow even heavier. As the rain grows heavier so do your eyelids and before you realise it they’re fluttering shut, your head lolling against Natasha’s chest.

She nudges you “Are you seriously falling asleep!?”

You groan “Well, I was until I was flung around like-”

“How can you fall asleep when our relationship is falling apart?”

“… What?”

“You’re planning on leaving me yet you’re still here, cuddled up to me, it's not exactly fair-”

“Can we like slow down a second and go back a few paces? Because what in the honking heck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you realising you’re better off without me and leaving me because that’s what everyone else did-”

“What? I’m gonna get up from this lovely cozy bed just because you got a bit snippy about me banging on about Carol?” You roll your eyes and poke Natasha’s ribs “You idiot.”

Natasha yelps at the poke but doesn’t let go of you “I’m serious! I’m so horrible, I don’t know why I’m like this, I-”

You put your hand on her face and whisper “Shh, I’m enjoying our cozy vibes.”

“But I wanna-”

“Natty, you’re still talking.”

“I want to talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry I kept talking about Carol when it was clearly winding you up.”

“I- No, you shouldn’t be apologising. I should apologise.”

“Okay, apologise then.”

“I- Yeah, okay, I was getting there-” Natasha sighs “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I don’t- I don’t know why I do that; I don’t mean to.”

“S’Okay” You say easily, nuzzling into her chest again.

Natasha groans “Will you snap back at me?”

“Why?”

“So we’re even! Say something mean.”

“Nat, you… Aren’t that great at archery.”

Natasha’s eye-brows furrow “What?”

“Your knife throwing and hand-to-hand skills are great, but archery is definitely the one area I’m better at than you. I’ve been thinking it for a while, glad I got it off my chest.”

Natasha rolls her eyes “You’re an idiot.”

“Well now that’s not very nice. I might have to leave you for that.”

Natasha looks down at you, rolling her eyes again at your cheeky grin “You’re actually- You’re really not mad at me?”

“I mean I’m not thrilled about being snapped at but it’s not the end of the world. I’m not going anywhere anyway.”

“But I-”

“Can you stroke my hair again please?”

Natasha groans but resumes her fingers running through your hair. You’re really something else. Has she finally found someone willing to put up with her bullshit? The rain is still intense outside, and your eyes begin to flutter closed again. Natasha can’t believe you’re falling asleep on her but as far you’re concerned these are the perfect conditions for an amazing nap. Your girlfriend’s warmth combined with the comforting sound of the rain outside.

Natasha kisses the top of your head, her arms tight around you. She’s not letting go. No chance.

[s-zys-world]

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO - 2

SUMMARY: You're a famous singer-songwriter, and Kendall Jenner has been your friend for years. But now, that friendship is ruined after you confessed your love for her and she rejected you. Little did you know...

WARNING: angst maybe??

Third Person POV but focused on Kendall

After that show where you confessed to Kendall, she hasn't called you since. You still interact sometimes, talking via chat, but never in person. She messages you now and then asking how you are and things like that, but now it's rare.

Maybe twice a month, unlike before when you would talk almost every day across all her social media platforms. It's obvious that Kendall is avoiding you, and even though that hurts you, you understand it.

In Kendall's defense, she is only avoiding you because she's terrified that anything she does will just become another bridge leading you to fall for her even harder.

Kendall could not afford making you love her more. And it's not because she hates you. It's not because she dislikes the idea that you are in love with her. And definitely not because she wishes you weren't in love with her.

It is because of one thing.

Kendall, despite her over-the-moon confidence, still doubts herself when it comes to love. For years she's been dating different guys, only to end up breaking up with them. Having her heart shattered into pieces so many times makes her believe love is not on her side. Heartbreak is too much; she thinks love is against her.

First and foremost, her first-ever heartbreak almost drove her insane. Then, heartbreaks followed in a domino effect until her father's transition from a man to a woman made her soul feel like it had left her body.

For her, she supports her dad in whatever he wants, but thinking of what her mom might be feeling makes her chest ache so bad she could feel herself about to faint.

It was a different kind of heartbreak that made her believe the luck of love was never on her side. It will never be on her side. Years and years, heartbreak after heartbreak, without experiencing the true heart-racing feeling of love, made her feel numb. She is tired of loving someone because she believes it will only hurt her in the end.

And now, the idea of you loving her...

You reciprocating the love she has for you...

That's kind of messed up for her.

Because the truth is, Kendall and her boyfriend broke up for one thing and one reason only. It was because her boyfriend knew Kendall had a secret feelings for you.

Of course Kendall tried denying it, but it was getting harder and harder to believe a lie when her actions said the opposite. Because when Kendall was in that relationship, whenever you called, she was there. She was your one-call-away, as though you are Kendall's entire world and her boyfriend noticed it—pathetically so.

From the small gesture of Kendall making an effort to attend your world tour in Southeast Asia when she was in the northern country of the damn map... To the big gesture of creating multiple accounts just to vote for you at the Grammys, defending you from your haters on her dummy account, adjusting her schedule just so the two of you can hangout a lot, and constantly liking and reposting edits of you on TikTok on her dummy accounts as well.

That's how her boyfriend knew Kendall was in love with you, and that's how they broke up. Because Kendall is indeed in love with you, too.

Kendall knows it—has known it—and she’s tried her damnedest to bury it beneath cool smiles and poised silence. Long before you ever realized you liked her, she had already fallen for you. God, she liked you even before you knew she breathed the same air, walked the same earth.

And she meant every word she said on that Keeping Up With the Kardashians episode, the one where she declared to the world that you were her gay awakening. Because Kendall is gay—but only for you. She likes you so much it drives her to absurd choices: pouring her feelings into other people instead of the one person who truly holds them.

Why? Because Kendall fears three things with a bone-deep ache: the shattering of your image, the cracking of her own, and the collapse of the friendship you built together—one she cherishes even more fiercely than the one she shares with Hailey Bieber.

She loves you so intensely she locked her feelings away just to keep you close. And now that you’ve confessed, and Kendall realizes you feel the same, the emotion flooding her chest isn’t joy.

It’s fear.

Fear of wrecking what’s precious.

Fear of hurting the very hearts she wants to protect.

Fear of the world’s judgment.

Fear so sharp it tightens her ribs, even as her own mind scoffs that she’s being dramatic, foolish.

She’s Kendall Jenner—the Kendall Jenner. Highest-paid supermodel. A woman sculpted into the fantasies of millions. Someone who should carry confidence like a second skin. So why does it slip through her fingers now?

Because it’s you.

Because you are Kendall Jenner's kryptonite. And losing you—losing you to her own love-curse—that would break her heart in ways she knows she’d never recover from. It would be the final crack that makes her whole world fold in on itself.

So instead of confessing back in that bathroom, instead of kissing you, brushing away the tears trembling on your lashes, pulling you into her arms like she’s dreamed of a thousand quiet nights…

Kendall stepped back. She left you. And it carved a distance that wasn’t rejection, wasn’t disgust—nothing close to be honest. It was a silent message etched in the air between you:

She’s the one who has to back away. Because she sees herself as the volatile one. The one who could hurt you without meaning to. The one who loves you so fiercely she’s terrified of ruining you. She’d rather bear the ache alone than ever gamble with your heart.

And now she’s carrying that heartache square in her chest, lying in bed with nothing to anchor her except the glow of your face on a screen. She scrolls through every clip she can find—your interviews, the grainy, illegally filmed concerts, the soft-focused edits of you that flood TikTok.

It’s you. Only ever you.

Months have slipped by since she rejected you, and she regrets it with a weight so heavy it’s begun to crack the foundations of your friendship. In losing your love, she somehow lost the closeness you once had too.

So she clings to memories, reaching for a past she can’t touch. She watches you through pixels, thinks of you endlessly—day and night, without pause—wondering where you are and what you’re doing.

You’ve been filling her mind more than usual these past few days. Truth is, you never leave her thoughts, but it’s worse now that her birthday is close. She’s turning thirty, and every year you used to coax her into throwing a party she never actually wanted.

You lived for celebrations; she hated them—especially with a packed schedule looming the next morning. But she loved you enough to host those parties anyway, as though you were the one being celebrated.

It’s wild, a little absurd—but that’s how fiercely she loved you.

“Kend—not again…” Khloé barged into her room without even a knock, her frustration sharp but familiar. Kendall barely reacted, her eyes glossy, too used to this routine to flinch.

“Kendall, honey. Stop pining after a woman you can literally call.” Khloé grumbled, snatching the remote and switching off the TV. Kendall, eyes glossy with tears, didn’t resist, didn’t even turn her head to protest.

They’d been looping through this same scene for days. Kendall had grown used to it. Khloé hadn’t. And she shouldn’t be expected to—she had never once seen Kendall heartbroken like this.

Kendall, the girl who could be cheated on and still walk away without letting the world crumble under her feet. Kendall, who never allowed sorrow to make a home in her chest.

Until now. Until she rejected the one person she truly loved—out of fear.

“And you need to stop lying in bed eating a full damn meal like this. Pull yourself together!” Khloé snapped, but there was nothing cruel in it—just the ache of someone who knows exactly how deep her sister’s love runs.

Since she practically raised Kendall, she notices everything—the shifts in her voice, the tremors in her silence, even the fears Kendall herself refuses to acknowledge. And this? This was something she knew before Kendall ever said a word.

Khloé snatched the tray of food off the white bedsheets, and that small act was enough to finally pull Kendall’s eyes toward her.

“Leave me alone,” Kendall muttered, sounding more like a sulking child than a grown woman. Khloé only rolled her eyes.

“In this state? Hell no. I’m done watching you mope like this. Get up, sweetheart—we’re planning your birthday party.”

“I don’t want a birthday party, Khloé! I just want to be alone. Do you even understand me?”

Her voice cracked, louder than she intended, the kind of outburst that instantly shut down Khloé’s stern, motherly instincts. Kendall wasn’t looking for someone to scold her or force her to move. She didn’t need a guardian. She needed a sister—someone who would simply sit beside her and hold the silence with her.

So Khloé swallowed her urge to lecture and eased herself down beside Kendall, who was now lying flat on her stomach, face buried in the sheets as though the softness might muffle the hurt trembling through her.

Khloé didn’t touch her, didn’t rush her—she just sat there, present, steady, offering the quiet kind of comfort Kendall could actually accept. Silence wrapped around them like a heavy blanket, the kind that makes every breath feel louder than it should. Kendall stayed facedown on the mattress, refusing to show even an inch of her face, while Khloé watched her—stunned, honestly—because she had never seen her sister fall apart like this. Not this deeply. Not this helplessly.

“Talk to me, Kenny,” Khloé murmured, her voice soft enough to bruise. The gentleness only twisted the blade in Kendall’s chest. Guilt pressed at her ribs; she hated snapping at the one person who had always stood solid behind her. She wanted to apologize, to turn and meet her sister halfway—but grief was heavier. And thinking of you made it almost impossible to breathe.

“I miss her…” Kendall whispered, her voice muffled by the pillow she was practically hiding inside.

“I know you do, baby. But let me ask you something.”

That made Kendall lift her head, just enough to meet Khloé’s eyes. She wiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks, hands trembling like she wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. Khloé held her gaze. In that quiet exchange, something unspoken passed between them—reassurance, understanding, a kind of sisterly warmth that told Kendall she wasn’t alone even when she felt like it.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while,” Khloé began carefully, “but it never felt like the right moment.” A breath. A beat. A truth hovering on the edge.

“So tell me, Kendall… are you really afraid that being with Y/N will ruin everything?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping into a place only raw honesty can reach.

“Or are you terrified because her love might finally give you the hope, the peace, the stillness you’ve been craving for years—but you’ve grown so used to chaos that you don’t know who you are without it?”

Khloé’s question didn’t just land—it cracked something open in her. Because yes, she was afraid. And maybe she’d named the fear wrong all this time. Khloé had pointed straight at the truth she’d been too ashamed to admit.

Her life was chaos.

It had been chaos since she was a teenager with cameras shoved in her face, since the world watched her family unravel and rebuild on-screen like it was their weekly entertainment. A “lovely yet dramatic circus,” as she used to call it—half-joke, half-resentment she never voiced.

And her relationships?

Every guy she dated left with the same complaint: you spend more time with her than you do with me.

As if choosing you—your warmth, your calm, your soft companionship—was a crime she couldn’t stop committing. Her world became a spectacle everyone consumed, including you. You once admitted you watched every episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. From the pilot to the finale.

She wasn’t embarrassed of her family, never that—but she feared what you saw during those years. The fights. The tears. The mess. Not because she thought you’d judge her. No—your reaction never scared her.

It was your peace she was terrified of shattering. Your quiet, steady life. Your family who stayed out of the spotlight, who behaved like real people, not characters on a global stage. Your parents—kind, sweet, simple. Your younger sister, the one Kendall liked to tease you about, pretending she preferred the girl more than you.

Your life had harmony in it.

And Kendall admired it so deeply it almost hurt. She envied the soft rhythm you lived by, the one she could never seem to find for herself. And she feared dragging her storms into your stillness. Feared that loving you would swallow you whole in the chaos she’d grown to accept as her home.

But more than that—She feared the peace you offered. She feared how badly she wanted it, how much she longed to rest in it, how foreign it felt to imagine a life not drowning in noise.

Yes, Kendall Nicole Jenner was afraid. Afraid she’d lose your friendship. Afraid she’d lose herself. Afraid her love would come out warped, heavy, tangled with all her unhealed pieces. She loved you so fiercely that the thought of ruining you—of hurting you—made her chest collapse.

Because to her, you are a sanctuary. And she is a wildfire. And in her mind, opposites don’t attract. Opposites destroy each other. That’s the lie she’s been clinging to. The one keeping her from you.

"I love her," was all Kendall could manage to say. She simply couldn't admit her own fear to her sister, and not because she was afraid of being judged. It was because she desperately wanted to deny that truth about herself and the profound love she held for you.

"I know, Kenny. But here’s a word of advice: Fear is just an emotion. Your fear is only a lesson in how to live with it without letting it seize control of you. Fear is nothing if you just... don't give a f*ck about it." The sincerity radiating in Khloe's voice was so palpable that Kendall felt her words weren't being forced upon her mind, but were instead slowly, smoothly, and gladly sinking into her consciousness.

"Look, Y/N is out there—the very girl you admire—confessing her love for you. And you love her back. I'd say go for it and don't give a single care about whatever you're afraid of. Because if there is an emotion stronger than fear? It is love."

"It doesn't make sense, right? But it will soon enough. And I’m not saying you should practically ignore what you feel. Work on it, baby. And when you’re done, talk to Y/N and sort this thing out because honestly, I still believe your best friend is in love with you."

Kendall frowned at her sister's words, her expression turning sharp. "What?"

Khloe merely shrugged, a hint of knowing amusement in her eyes. "She seemed to be smitten with you still. I watched her interview last night on Jay Shetty's podcast on YouTube, and all she talked about was you... your friendship..."

Kendall holds her frown like armor. What Khloe just told her can’t be true—she refuses to believe it. Not for a second. Because in her mind, she’s certain of one thing: she’s seen every interview, every clip, every fleeting video ever released about you.

She knows your words by heart, and she knows you never once mentioned her in any interview. And there’s no new appearance with Jay Shetty—no surprise segment, no secret confession, no podcast, nothing.

None of it lines up. None of it feels real.

“You don’t believe me?” Khloé asked, meeting Kendall’s gaze head-on. Kendall looked back at her as if she were staring at the biggest liar in the family.

When Kendall still didn’t answer, her eyes lingering stubbornly on her older sister, Khloé scoffed, rolled her eyes, and stood up. She grabbed the remote, opened YouTube, and typed in Jay Shetty Podcast.

The moment the search results appeared, Kendall’s eyes widened. There you were—right on the latest thumbnail. Khloé pressed play. Kendall sank back into the bed, her eyes now locked on the television, watching you speak effortlessly with the host. Comfortable. Relaxed. Real. At first, she barely listened. She was too busy admiring the way you were dressed. Kendall had always known this about you, you could wear anything and make it look impossibly expensive. You had that effect on people. And Kendall, like everyone else, was already under your spell.

You were only wearing a brown sweater and black pleated pants. That was it. Simple. Nothing loud. And yet you looked like you’d just stepped straight off a Paris Fashion Week runway. Beautiful without trying. That, too, was one of the many things Kendall loved about you.

As the video played on, you spoke about your life—about stories Kendall already knew by heart. She noticed how comfortable you were with the man across from you, and the realization made her chest warm.

Because Kendall knew the truth: most of the time, you hated interviews. You hated being cut off. You hated being restrained. You loved to talk, really talk. You loved to ramble, to laugh, to explain yourself freely. And seeing you do exactly that now? It softened something deep inside her. She made a mental note to message Jay later, to thank him for giving you the space to be yourself.

And if the topic was you, your endless talking, and all the reasons Kendall loved you, well, the podcast had already proven every single one of them. The way you immediately handed Jay water when he coughed. The way your voice stayed gentle and calm while acknowledging and talking about the hate you're getting for being an open bisexual despite being a part of a religion that considered the LGBTQ+ community as sinners. The way you chose your words carefully, as if they carried weight, because they did.

Every little thing about you felt dangerously easy to fall for.

“I hear this a lot,” Jay said on the screen. “It’s hard to do things—even the things you once loved. Sometimes… you just need inspiration.”

You nodded. Then smiled.

“We do. We all need inspiration,” you said. “It’s like a magnet—it pulls us, pushes us forward, makes us better. And for me…” You laughed softly. “For someone who writes her own songs, I need inspiration to give people better music. Better lyrics to sing and feel.”

Then your voice dropped, sincere and steady. “And I think I already have the best inspiration to keep going in this industry.” And just like that, Kendall's heart began to hammer hard inside her chest. As you continued speaking about your inspiration, you explained how it didn’t just make you a better singer, a sharper songwriter, or a more grounded influencer—but a better person.

And Kendall knew.

You were talking about her.

The realization settled into her chest like warmth after a long winter. She had never imagined she could have that kind of effect on you. You—someone she already saw as whole, as kind, as impossibly good. The idea that she had helped shape you into something even better felt unreal.

Kendall Jenner, of all people, found it difficult to believe. Because from the very first moment she met you, you were already better than most. That was one of the reasons she fell for you—your humility, your gentleness, the way kindness lived in your bones. You were so kind it almost felt fictional, as if the world didn’t deserve someone like you.

And that scared her.

It made her feel like she had to protect you from the world—because the world was cruel, and you were far too soft for it. Because people would see your kindness and try to take it from you. Use it. Break it. A quiet truth hit her then, sudden and heavy:

God, she loved you.

And only now was she fully realizing it. Her love for you had grown so deep, so fierce, that it had outgrown her fear. On the screen, Jay leaned forward slightly.

“Do you ever feel like taking a risk, though?” he asked. The conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you—something Kendall admired deeply. But at that question, as she waited for your answer, her heart tightened. She didn’t know why she felt nervous. She just did.

You smiled.

“I would risk it all,” you said without hesitation. “I’ve always believed it’s better to take the risk than to do nothing. A little challenge to spice up life—it makes living more fun. And honestly… it’s the better way to live.” And somewhere on a quiet bed, with the glow of the screen on her face, Kendall felt both terrified and completely in love.

“I would always take the risk,” you said softly. “In love. In life. In everything.”

Khloé scoffed beside her. “For a woman who’s been rejected, Y/N is one hell of a fearless woman.”

But Kendall didn’t hear her. Your words kept echoing in her mind, over and over, like a confession meant only for her. You would take the risk. Yes… Kendall already knew that.

But the question that trembled in her chest now was heavier than anything else:

What about me?

Would you still take the risk if the risk was her? Would you still choose to leap if Kendall reached for you this time? And the sharpest question of all, would you still accept her, knowing she was the very person who had once broken your heart, left you alone and broken on a bloody bathroom?

The screen flickered quietly in the room, but Kendall was no longer watching the interview. She was staring straight at the consequence of her own fear. At least for a moment...

Until...

The conversation shifted, softly, treacherously, toward relationships, and Kendall’s mind short-circuited on impact.

Then something strange happened. A scene that felt random, misplaced, something that should have been edited out like the rest of the cut podcast moments, played instead. Your phone rang. You excused yourself. And unlike every other time, you answered.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you said. The room on-screen waited. So did everyone watching. A thousand silent questions flooded the air—who was on the other end of that call? Who could possibly be important enough that you wouldn’t ignore them?

Your smile widened. Your cheeks tinted pink.

“I’m on Jay Shetty’s podcast,” you said softly into the phone. “Do you want to say hi?”

Apparently, the person said yes—because you lowered your phone and turned to Jay and the staff.

“Do you guys mind if my girlfriend says hi?”

“No, not at all. Please do,” Jay replied. And just like that, Kendall’s heart collapsed in on itself.

Girlfriend.

Kendall didn’t even know you had one. When did that happen? Who was she? When did you move on from her? Who is your girlfriend? Who was she? How did you two meet? Is she perfect for you? Who was she?

“Oh… I didn’t watch this part,” Khloé said quietly, guilt and unease braided into her voice. But Kendall didn’t blame her. It was obvious her sister hadn’t finished the episode. Earlier, Khloé had been so sure—so confident—that you had feelings for Kendall, that you had spoken about her openly. Khloé would never hurt her on purpose.

But Kendall? Kendall could devastate herself effortlessly. You having a girlfriend. Announcing it yourself before the paparazzi or the media could touch it. Controlling the narrative the way you always did. Secretive. Careful. Precise.

That was so you.

“Hi, guys!!” the voice on the line chirped brightly—so high-pitched and cheerful that Kendall couldn’t immediately recognize it. Until Jay said the name.

“Is that the Hailee Steinfeld?” You beamed and nodded, pride written all over your face. You didn’t even need to answer.

“Yup, that’s me! I’m so sorry for disturbing I didn't even know she's~”

After that, Kendall didn’t hear another word. The sound drained from the room. From the house. From the world. Her ears rang until everything else turned into distant static.

And then the truth landed.

She lost you.

Kendall lost you.

And as if fate wanted to twist the knife deeper, she lost you to the very woman you once admitted you had the tiniest, most harmless crush on, specifically on her Kate Bishop role. The same woman who had openly said she’d liked you for years. Who openly talks in interviews how gorgeous, perfect, kind, and lovely you are. One Kendall didn't expect to be her competitor in the game of winning your heart.

Kendall didn’t just lose you. She lost the game.

And oh, how she wished she had reached for you before the moment you ever confessed.

Now, all she could do was wish, quietly, helplessly...

that you might one day love her the way she loves you.