Avoiding every mistletoe (Until I know It’s true love)
PROMPTS: Shy Natasha Romanoff and Lab Assitant!Reader
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader
Tags: Fluff, awkward and clumsy Nat, Tony's lab asistant reader, christmas fun! ( posting this during actual christmas), meddeling avengers, a sprinkle of hurt/comfort.
Summary —> Ever since Natasha met you, Tony's new brilliant assistant, she has been down bad. But her sudden lack of confidence around you banishes every hope for her to make a move. Christmas is around the corner, and the team knows about your superstitious nature. There seems to be a clear answer: Mistletoes.
Warnings: Descriptions of making out, but not explicit sexual content.
November was in full swing at the Avengers Tower, which meant sophisticated red, green, and gold decorations adorned every surface, Christmas songs played on an endless loop through the speakers, and the unmistakable aroma of gingerbread wafted (somehow) through the air.
As was classic Tony Stark fashion, a lineup of extravagant holiday parties had already been scheduled and meticulously planned for execution. Natasha Romanoff though was already dreading it.
Hoping to avoid any unnecessary interaction, she quietly sneaked into the communal kitchen, intent on grabbing a couple of waffles Wanda had made earlier. But as soon as she stepped in, she felt the weight of several pairs of eyes on her back.
“Ah, Miss Romanoff, there you are!” Tony’s voice rang out, cheerful and full of purpose. He was already decked out in one of his newest suits—sharp, festive, and annoyingly ostentatious.
Sighing, Natasha turned around, realizing it was too late to make a run for it. She was greeted by the sight of her team sprawled across the couches and armchairs in the lounge, each of them absorbed in their own activity, but now casually watching Tony’s sudden commotion with mild interest.
“Morning,” Natasha grunted, reluctantly moving to join them, plate in hand.
“Just the person I was looking for!” Tony said, flashing a shit-eating grin as he patted the empty space beside him on the couch.
Instead of humoring him, Natasha settled herself on the fluffy rug in front of the coffee table, placing her plate down without a word.
“You are officially invited to the pre-Christmas party hosted by moi,” Tony declared dramatically.
“Tony, you literally held us hostage at one last week. I still have a hangover,” she deadpanned, recalling flashes of the chaos where even she had gone overboard with the alcohol, thanks to Sam Wilson’s stupid drinking games.
“Oh, come on! This one’s different. It’s intimate—just for us heroes and co,” Tony countered, undeterred. Then, leaning back smugly, he added, “I even got the space lady to come. How awesome is that?”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Oh don’t be boring. Where’s the wild Natasha Romanoff we all love?” Tony teased, grinning as if to provoke her.
“Easy. She doesn’t exist,” Natasha replied flatly, cutting into her first waffle. She let out a satisfied hum at the sweet taste.
“These are amazing, Wanda,” she said, looking over at the young witch.
Wanda, sitting comfortably on a loveseat, smiled warmly at the compliment. “Thanks, Nat.”
“Is it a new recipe?” Natasha asked, curious.
“Yes, actually. I added a bit of cinnamon and—”
“Okay, okay!” Tony interrupted, baffled by the lack of attention he was receiving, looking bewildered between them two. “Let’s get back to the main thing here. Are you coming?”
At Natasha’s reluctant silence, Steve stepped in with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Natasha. I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior.”
“Ugh, boring—” Tony groaned, dragging the word out in sing-song. But under Steve’s hardened stare, he sighed in defeat. “Fine. It’ll be a cozy hangout. No traces of fun or whatever,” he relented, raising his hands in mock surrender.
Taking another bite of her waffles, she carfulkly took a sip of her coffe, trying to hide her smirk as she sees Tony waiting in anticipation fo her response. “Fine.”
Tony threw a punch onto the air, clapping in victory. “Carol is coming you said?”
He nodded proudly. “Yeah I managed to rope her and her little sidekick in. There is also the kid, Clint and his family…”
”Dont forget Strange.” Bruce, who just entered the living room reminded. Tony grumbled a bit at that.
“Yeah, Houdini too. Scary lady and Patch eye…god were those hard to convince— Oh and my lab assistant too.” Nathasa choked at that.
”Assistant? She practically takes over your lab.” Bruce chuckled.
Tony rolled his eyes, but there was no hint of malice. If anything, a spark of pride made his eyes a bit brighter. “Yeah well, I taught her well. Did you knowl that last week she-“
Nathan’s brain disconnected at a scary speed after those words. Images of you hit her hard, and she could already start to feel her heart race a bit.
Y/N Y/L/N was Tony Stark’s most recent lab and tech assistant, and to say he was impressed would be an understatement. After reviewing your résumé, Tony had practically declared you a godsend. You were one of the rare people who could keep up with his eccentricities, effortlessly managing the stream of tasks he threw your way. It didn’t take long for you to earn a permanent spot at the Avengers Tower.
Natasha remembered the first time she saw you as if it were yesterday. She had been on her way to ask Tony for a replacement for her gauntlets after a particularly rough mission. When she stepped into the lab, though, she was surprised to find someone else hunched over the workbench.
Frowning, Natasha set her hand on the fingerprint scanner, the door sliding open with a soft whoosh. At the sound, the stranger turned around, and Natasha froze in place.
For her, the world seemed to stop spinning, settling into an almost unnatural silence. You were… ethereal.
In her life, Natasha had faced aliens, wizards, and even sentient robots. So how far-fetched was it to assume she was now standing face to face with an angel?
Even though you didn’t know her, a gentle smile settled on your lips, your gorgeous eyes peering at her with almost childlike curiosity. Natasha stood there, frozen in place, unable to move. It wasn’t until something shifted in the silence that she remembered to breathe again.
Startled, she realized she hadn’t moved from the doorway. The door had automatically closed where she stood, trapping her.. Embarrassed, she quickly stepped forward, pushing herself to snap out of it.
And, of course, she had to stumble. The gauntlets she was holding slipped from her grip and fell to the floor with an unforgivable thud. Cringing, she immediately knelt down to retrieve them. What she didn't expect was for you to do the same, even if your movement were more calm.
She flustered when she dared to look up, finding your own awaiting gaze. “Well, if they weren't broken before, they sure are now.” You joked with a smile, tone teasing but not judging.
Blinking, Natasha started sputtering, not really knowing what to say. Or how. “Yes.”
“Yes” is what her stupid brain decided to go for. Even thinking about it even now, her face scrunch with self embarrassment. What was even happening? Taking a breath, she redirected her eyes to the ground. Right, the gauntlets. They are broken. Need them fixed.
Finally standing up, she forced her body not to fidget. As if sensing this, you offered a hand to her. “Y/N Y/L/N, Mr.Starks new hire here in the lab.”
Tentatively, she accepted the shake. Her mind hanging on how your hand seemed to fit into hers. “Natasha Romanoff. Um, avenger.”
God what’s wrong with her? You giggle at that, and the sound is enough to get her out of her head. Of course that the sound is also beautiful. Was there anything about you that wasn’t? Why is she even think that?
“I know. Pleasure to meet you, Ms.Romanoff. So…may I help you with those?” You ask, your hand still being held by hers. Noticing this, Natasha removed her grip as if you were burning.
“Please.” She ended up saying, utterly embarrassed by her behaviour. Still, you gave no sense of judgment, only nodding and taking her over the workbench.
She stayed with you all that evening. And most of the next ones after that.
Her infatuation with you only seemed to grow since that first meeting, and the others quickly picked up on it. They saw it in the way Natasha—the most grounded person they knew—started sputtering and flustering whenever she talked to you. The unshakable confidence she was known for seemed to melt under the warmth of your sunshine smile and the twinkle of mischief in your eyes.
And as much as they insisted for her to make an actual move, Natasha refused.
“Uh-oh, I know that look.” Wanda sang, like a high school girl teasing her friend in high school when they listened the name of their crush. Rolling her eyes, Natasha scoffed.
”Oh, but there is.” Clint, who was watching Sam and a struggling Bucky play Mortal Combat added, not even looking away from the screen. “Your pupils practically shape into hearts— likes a lovesick puppy. It’s almost painful to watch.
You were too good for her, Natasha decided on her own. You were like the sun, kind and warm, gentle in a way that it was entirely selfless. Natasha's life was one of dangers and precautions, she didn’t want to expose you to any of the threats that surrounded her lifestyle.
Even if she ached to be close to you, call you her own.
“Now it’s the time to make a move. Who knows? Maybe you will find each other under the mistletoe.” He adds with a wink.
Tony hummed. “Hm, that’s actually a good idea.”
Her head whipped toward him. “Don’t even think about it, Stark. Besides, that’s a stupid tradition. How do you even know that Y/N would willingly kiss someone just because a stupid parasitic plant is above her?”
They all laughed at that.
“Our Y/N? Please. She practically had a mental breakdown when I broke a mirror in the lab the other day,” Tony quipped, grinning.
Wanda nodded in agreement, casually flipping through the pages of her book. “Yeah, once she made me search the entire tower for something made of wood to touch, just so I wouldn’t jinx the next mission after I mentioned a hypothetical worst-case scenario. Still don’t get that one.”
Natasha’s face went pale at that, remembering a conversation she’d once had with you. You had mentioned that, while you didn’t fully believe in superstitions yourself, your family did, and it had resulted in some strange and unshakable habits for you. “Better safe than sorry,” you had said with a shrug.
A cold sweat made her tremble slightly, worsening by all of a sudden interested and sneaky grins on her friends faces.
Whatever, she still can not go.
When you confirmed your attendance, you clapped excitedly, rambling about how fun it would be to spend your first Christmas together. You even brought it up when she bought you lunch—a frequent occurrence, since you often got so engrossed in your work that you forgot to eat. Natasha would be lying if she said your words didn’t tug relentlessly at her heart.
And so, there she was, surrounded by the thrumming chaos of an all-together gathering, overwhelming decorations, and overly festive arrangements at every turn. Anxiety prickled at her as she glanced toward the newly decorated attic. They couldn’t possibly have infested the entire place with mistletoe, right?
On every doorway, on the stairs, in the high columns and ceilings, even on top of the Christmas tree, scattered around—everywhere she looked, there it was. Mistletoe.
Trying to shake it off, Natasha focused her attention on the ground, her sharp gaze scanning for the culprit behind this festive ambush.
“Tony!” she half-yelled, her steps quick and deliberate as she marched toward the eccentric billionaire, who was in the middle of a conversation with Pepper.
His head whipped toward her, a flicker of fear flashing across his face before his usual smug smirk returned.
“Care to explain?” she demanded.
“Explain what, exactly? My fantastical abilities to host, or…?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.
She glared furiously. “Aw, c’mon, don’t look so grumpy, Grinch! This is a time of tradition, joy—”
“And manipulation?” she interrupted through gritted teeth. “This is way too much.”
Despite her glare and the unmistakable edge in her voice, Tony remained unfazed. If anything, his amusement only grew. He glanced over her shoulder, his expression brightening as he perked up.
“Well, complaints are non-refundable. Sorry, it’s the new policy. If you’ll excuse me, Pepper needs me to sign some super high-confidence document, right, dear?”
Pepper frowned. “What are you talking ab—”
Before she could finish, Tony gently grabbed her hand and began steering her away, the two trailing off into the crowd.
Natasha was about to follow and press him further, but a voice behind her made her freeze.
She turned around, and suddenly, everything seemed to slow down for her. There you were, wearing a comfy red sweater, black jeans, and a pair of Mary Janes. Your hair, usually tied back for work, was flowing freely, framing your face. It was a simple, casual look, but Natasha felt her face heat up at the sight of you.
As you got closer, alarm bells blared in her mind. Her eyes darted upward, and her stomach dropped. One of those dreaded mistletoe clusters hung right above where you were heading.
Panicking, she practically sprinted toward you, desperate to avoid both of you standing under it. But she miscalculated her speed, and before she knew it, she was barrelling straight into you.
You let out a startled huff as her momentum almost knocked you over, but her quick reflexes kicked in, and she steadied you before you could stumble.
“Geez, Romanoff,” you joked, brushing yourself off as you smiled up at her. “We just saw each other this morning. Did you miss me that much?”
Your teasing tone and warm voice snapped her out of her panic, but the damage was done. Natasha’s heart was hammering in her chest, her senses overloaded as she became acutely aware of how close you were. The soft warmth of your body pressed lightly against hers, the delicate scent of cocoa beans, coconut, and something distinctly you filling the air around her.
Her cheeks burned as her mind scrambled for something—anything—to say as she looked down at you, mortified. Luckily for her, your attention diverged when someone from the staff (who even brings staff in closed up parties?) bough a chocolate fountain in a rolling chair. “No. Way.— I thought he was kidding!”
And just like that you went off excitedly, a silhouette of dust being the only trace of you left. Sighing, Natasha brought her hand to her racing heart, trying to figure out a way to survive this evening.
Her eyes opened again in determination, she was going to take off these damned things, starting with the one right on top of her.
This task, however, grew increasingly difficult as the evening wore on. Between being roped into endless conversations, you constantly looking out for her (and her desperately trying to avoid you), and the absurd number of mistletoes everywhere, Natasha felt like she was fighting a losing battle. It was as if they were multiplying before her very eyes.
Her frustration peaked during a particularly embarrassing moment—one where, of course, you were the witness.
After listening to Peter and Kamala endlessly gossip about high school drama, Natasha had collapsed onto the sofa, her patience hanging by a thread. As her gaze wandered across the room, her eyes landed on the ceiling—and there it was. Another mistletoe. This one was perched slightly higher than the others, hanging right above the beanbag chair where you often sat. Of course.
Those strategic bastards.
Taking advantage of everyone being distracted in the kitchen, she sprang into action. With no ladder in sight, she grabbed a nearby chair and carefully climbed onto it. Still too short to reach, she braced herself against the shelves, stretching precariously as she balanced. Every slight wobble of the chair made her heart lurch, but she pressed on, determined to remove the offending decoration before anyone noticed.
But of course, that was the moment you walked in, calling for her.
“Nat? Aren’t you hungry? I saved you some of those little pies you like so much—”
Your voice startled her, and she immediately looks down at you. Her grip slipped briefly, the chair wobbling dangerously beneath her.
“Y/N! Shit—” she hissed, her heart leaping into her throat. Scrambling to steady herself, she clung to the edge of the shelf and managed to avoid completely losing her balance. She froze, her cheeks heating as she realized you were staring at her, bewildered.
“What… are you doing?” you asked, the corners of your lips quirking up in confusion and slight amusement.
Blushing furiously, Natasha’s mind scrambled for a reasonable explanation. “Um… I was just… looking for Clint? You know how much he loves to hide up here.” she said with a nervous laugh, trying to sound nonchalant.
Before you could respond, someone brushed past you, momentarily breaking the tension.
It was Clint, holding a bottle of rosé wine, with the kids trailing behind him. “No alcohol until you’re 21,” he announced, his tone firm but playful.
“But I am 22!” Kate argued.
Clint snorted. “Sure you are.”
As they disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your attention back to Natasha. Arching an eyebrow, you crossed your arms, your curiosity clearly not satisfied.
“Oh, great! There he is!” Natasha blurted, clinging to her flimsy excuse. She waved awkwardly in Clint’s general direction, desperate to change the subject. “Let me just—”
But as she began stepping down, her foot slipped on the edge of the chair. She let out a startled gasp as she lost her footing entirely.
She even tried to gain support in enemy territory.
“Steve!” she called out. The man looked over at her and clearly tried to sneak off, but it was too late. “Just how many are there?” she asked, her desperation evident. So far, she’d removed eight mistletoes and had endured three risky situations where she’d practically had to run away from you.
“Of what?” Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink, feigning ignorance.
Natasha huffed, crossing her arms. “Please, let’s skip the act. I know you also took part in this.”
Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable but gullible. Natasha sighed in exasperation. “Come on, Steve, you’re the most reasonable one out of all of them. Just tell me where the rest of the mistletoes are!”
She could see the guilt on his face—he was clearly uncomfortable. Steve Rogers wasn’t a man who lied easily. As he opened his mouth, clearly about to crack, Sam and Wanda swooped in.
“What are we talking about?” Sam asked with a goofy smile, casually draping his arm around Steve’s shoulders as if shielding him from her interrogation.
Natasha’s left eye twitched. “You know exactly what, Wilson.”
“Hmm, do I?” Sam teased, his grin widening.
Natasha ignored him, focusing on her second-best shot, since it was clear Steve wouldn’t be of much use now.
“Wanda,” she said, turning to the witch, “how many mistletoes are there?”
Wanda shrugged, playing innocent.
“If you tell me…,” Natasha added, her voice turning sly, “I’ll lend you those boots of mine you like so much.”
Wanda hesitated at that, her composure faltering slightly. “… The ones with the metal buckles?”
“The ones with the metal buckles.”
Wanda’s eyes glinted with temptation as she weighed her options. But after a brief internal debate, she furrowed her brow and firmly shook her head and crossed her arms. “No. We’re doing this for your own good, Natasha.”
Natasha laughed forcefully, her expression taut with frustration. “For my own good? I’m losing my sanity over here, Wands.” Her tone was sharp, but her forced smile remained plastered on her face.
Just then, a voice cut through the air, making Natasha freeze.
“Have you guys seen Natasha? I swear I just keep losing track of her today,” you said, your voice light-hearted as you spoke to Bruce and Tony.
The group perked up at your words, and Natasha’s head snapped toward the sound of your voice. There you were, standing across the room, looking as radiant as ever as you chatted with the two men.
As Tony and Bruce were about to point in her direction, Natasha didn’t waste another second—she quickly ducked behind the rolling chocolate fountain cart, slipping out of sight just in the nick of time.
It all came down to the climax of the party. Most of the children were asleep by now, and only the closest circle remained. Natasha was exhausted but relieved. She had finally managed to get rid of all the mistletoes, even if, in doing so, she had humiliated herself in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
Now, she could finally relax and hang out with you. Or at least, that’s what she thought. A wolf whistle and cheers erupted from her friends, who had formed a circle outside on the terrace. Curious, she approached, only to regret it immediately as she was squashed between Steve and Bucky.
Her face went pale as she saw the final mistletoe, hanging right above you and a smug Carol Danvers. In her frantic pursuit of avoiding standing under a mistletoe with you, someone else had managed to get there before her. This outcome was far worse, and dread filled her as she watched the scene unfold.
She couldn’t stand it. The way Carol got closer with bravado and you, with a smile (it was more polite and friendly than anything, but at that moment she didn’t see it like that), made her heart drop.
The world once again slowed down, but this time it was for her and you. And she just couldn’t stand it. Shattering the slow-motion moment, her mouth and body moved faster than her mind.
“Wait! You’re supposed to kiss under the mistletoe, not near it! I mean—look at that angle, it’s tilted and all wrong. Besides, is it me or are the leaves…wait, let me just scoot over here—” she muttered, pushing her way through the onlookers to get to the mistletoe. Everyone went quiet in surprise as she reached it and caressed the leaves. You just stared at her, but she seemed to pay no mind. “Ah, as I thought! These leaves are all dried. How about we replace it? Here, I know where we can find a suitable one. Will you come with me, Y/N?”
Without thinking, she took your hand and practically dragged you away, turning back toward the group. “We’ll be right back.”
Everyone remained quiet as they watched the two of you disappear.
“Here, let me just…” Natasha started, trying to find her card in her pockets. “Where did I—ah, here.”
With quick motions, she attempted to swipe the card to unlock her room. You stood behind her, watching her increasingly desperate attempts to open the door.
“Nat…” you started softly.
Chuckling awkwardly, she waited for the green light, but it still wasn’t processing for some reason. “These are so annoying. I keep insisting to Tony that he should just put in a code, but he doesn’t listen—”
“Typical of him, I know. Let’s try again.” Waiting for the red light to turn off, she swiped again, and this time the light turned green. “There, finally.”
You tried calling her again, but she interrupted. “Sorry for the wait. There are some left in my room, let’s just pick one and…” She said, turning the handle and opening the door, knowing that all the stolen mistletoes were in the corner.
“Natasha!” You finally yelled, making her turn around with wild eyes. Uh oh, you almost called her Natasha.
Your face held no negative feelings, only the patience you were known for. “Nat.” Slowly, you grabbed her trembling hand and got a bit closer. Your worry made her squirm.
“What’s going on?” you started softly, as if trying not to scare her. The consideration and gentleness in your voice made her almost burst into tears. “You’ve been behaving… strange this entire party. Running around all over the place… avoiding me.” You whispered the last words, clearly pained, and her heart shattered.
The last thing she wanted was to make you feel bad. “Did I do something wrong?”
Your question was so raw, your expression vulnerable, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms, kiss you gently, and reassure you that you didn’t—couldn’t—do anything to upset her. But she couldn’t, and the knowledge of it broke a little bit more.
“No, no, of course not. It’s just—” She started, her words getting stuck in her throat, unsure of how to put them together. “The others decided to put the place swarming with mistletoes.”
You looked at her in confusion. “Okay…why?”
Refusing eye contact, Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding so loudly that she thought you could hear it. Without dropping your hand, she stepped a little closer, her legs slightly trembling. She figured the best thing to do was to just say it and get it over with. She had already been making a fool of herself the entire day. But saying it was harder than she thought it would be. The fear of rejection was suffocating her.
“Because…” Finally daring to look at you, her neck reddening all up to the point of her ears, being suddenly conscious of the warmth radiating. “Because they know how serious you are about superstitions. And that if we got caught under one, then I… then I would finally dare to kiss you.”
The admission came as a whisper, shame and embarrassment hitting her like never before. It was as if she was going to combust from the inside. A pause hung between the two of you, each second of it feeling like a stab straight to her chest.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine losing you. You had become so close this year, and to think that just a couple of silly words could ruin everything was killing her. Her eyes closed tightly, waiting for the worst—a rejection, disgust, or just pity. Any of these would shatter her.
But it never came. Instead, she felt warmth—a gentle caress on her cheek, you softly urging her to open her eyes and look at you. Your face was far from the rejecting one that Natasha’s brain had conjured. Instead, it was a reassuring one, with a bright smile like the one you first gave her the day you met, your eyes soft and bright under the lights.
She blinked, as if the soft touch had pulled her back from her darkest places. Her heart seemed to stop, no longer beating out of fear but for hope. Because as she studied you, she saw nothing but kindness and happiness.
“You… you’re not upset?” she asked, as if it were too good to be true.
Your smile widened, laughing softly under your breath at her surprise. “Nat, how could I ever be upset? I—” This time it was you who searched for the right words, your cheeks flushed with a lovely rosy color that Natasha couldn’t help but find fascinating. “How could I, when I’ve been waiting for you to do this for quite some time?”
Your admission hung in the air, like a symphony. Natasha could feel the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. “You have?”
“Of course I have.” You confessed, as if the question were ridiculous to even ask. “You’ve been everything my heart has been yearning for, Natasha.”
Natasha sure wasn’t a poet, but right now she was seeing the world as one. The way in which your words embraced her, your slightly dilated eyes looking at her as if she was the only one on your mind.
Was this what the others saw? The look she has been too oblivious to see?
She wanted to hit her head in frustration, all the time wasted because of her doubts. But she was free of them now, having you as her savior.
Getting closer, she dared to pull you closer by your waist, marveling at how it felt in tandem with her movements, as if you two had done this a thousand times before, in different lives, before this one.
“So… you’re telling me I made that champagne pyramid fall all over Fury for nothing?” she asked, as if it were a secret.
You laughed loudly at that, remembering the moment when Natasha stumbled all over the table later on in the evening. Everything seemed to make sense now.
“You know…” you started, the laughter dying down as you softly tucked a piece of Natasha’s hair behind her ear, your touch lingering on her jaw. “For someone so intelligent and charismatic, you sure are clumsy at times.”
Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile. “Only because you…” she started, but caught herself, her eyes slightly widening.
You arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Only because of that? Do I make you nervous, Romanoff?” You grinned, adoring the way she seemed lost for words.
Sputtering, she tried to defend herself, but someone beat her to it.
“Very much so!” Tony yelled.
Your eyes snapped toward him, only to see the team huddled up behind the corner.
You snickered, Natasha flustered. “What are you…? Go away!” She hesitated.
Tony smirked. “Not so fast, Romanoff! You have to kiss.”
Confused, she followed his hand motion, only to see a mistletoe floating with surrounding red magic.
“Damn it, Wanda…” she muttered, but you just laughed at your friend’s antics, hiding your face in her shoulder.
Natasha’s attention shifted back to you, her smile filled with adoration. Finally, you peered up at her.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she started shyly, not wanting to pressure you into doing anything. But you only got closer to her.
“I don’t know, I think you do owe me a kiss,” you replied with a grin. “You know, to balance the universe.”
“Yeah…” she muttered, eyes lowering. “To balance the universe.” She reaffirmed, leaning down. But before her lips touched yours, she gripped you and dragged you both into her room, slamming the door shut. She ignored the muffled complaints heard from the hallway as she pinned you against it, wanting to have you all to herself.
Connecting her eyes with yours, she searched for any trace of doubt, but found nothing but darkened irises. Hesitation left her once and for all as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours. She sighed, and everything else seemed to fade into the distance.
The kiss was slow at first, gentle and tentative, giving you both time to discover each other. But the passion, held back for so long by insecurities and “what ifs,” broke free like a dam, intensifying everything tenfold. Her hand gripped your waist slightly harder, while one of your hands trailed up to her hair, tugging it just enough to make her shudder. Urgently, she pulled you even closer, as if afraid you might disappear.
Her breath quickened as she felt your body pressed against hers. The kiss deepened, turning frantic with all the pent-up desire. Suddenly, you tugged at her bottom lip, almost provocatively, as you looked up at her through your eyelashes. Natasha groaned, her heart racing. It was like seeing a whole new side of you, and she just couldn’t get enough.
Licking into your mouth, she hummed as your knees seemed to buckle, holding your hips to make sure you didn't fall. No, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when she finally had you in her arms.
You could feel the tension in her body as you traced her shoulders and back, her muscles tensing with every movement. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of you, kissing you—consuming you with everything she had.
It left you breathless. If anything, air became the only obstacle, the only force capable of separating you. Both gasping for breath, you didn’t dare to say anything for a moment, just taking in the overwhelming sensation of being so close, so lost in each other.
“You know, technically…” you started slowly, a playful smirk on your lips. “Technically, you interrupted my kiss with Carol before.”
As soon as the words left your mouth, her grip on you tightened, a small growl escaping her at the thought of anyone else getting the chance to do what you had just done. But you quickly calmed her, softly cupping the side of her face. “So, you owe me another kiss.”
She looked at you with darkened eyes, a mix of desire and challenge in her gaze. “I guess you’re right… We wouldn’t want to have bad luck.”
“Of course not,” you repeated, your lips brushing against hers as you gently guided her closer. “You know how superstitious I am.”
“Yes, I do,” she whispered, a teasing smile crossing her face as she closed the distance.
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