My cards are on the table

25 . She/Her

[makeitmakesomesense]

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[makeitmakesomesense]

The Future Is Now

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: ~500 words

A/N: Thank you very much to @tmblrfics-i-luv for the bullet point fic request. This was fun!

If infidelity is hard for you to imagine. 

It is because you are not inclined to it.

The first time you caught her eye. That day in the bookshop. You thought about the future.

Not explicitly, not in any great detail.

Just the feeling of it.

The warmth in your chest.

It’s what made you smile.

When she smiled back, you assumed it was for the same reason.

The stilted conversation about a favourite book. The spark in the air.

The first date.

The second.

Natasha with her pleased smile. Waiting for you in the coffee shop. Hand lifting into an unthinking wave to catch your attention.

As if you could miss her.

Memorising the way her hair moved when she laughed. 

Standing awkwardly outside the movie theatre, stamping your feet in the cold. Natasha appearing suddenly from the sea of passersby. Her smile widening to a grin at the sight of you. The whiteness of her teeth catching your attention in the dark night. 

The quick kisses.

The slow ones.

The privilege of soft touches. 

A million secret smiles. 

Endless images forever replaying in your mind.

Dreaming about her. 

Letting yourself smile at the thought of her.

Holding hands at a fairground. Her grey woollen hat. 

Her nose crinkling when she laughs.

Trying to fall asleep in her car. Her hand resting on your lap for hours.

Her happiness feeling like yours. 

Introducing you to her friends. The nervousness behind her smile.

Holding her hand tight. Staying calm. Not for you, but for her. 

Being your best version on her worst days. 

Dancing in the kitchen. Her bare legs brushing past you. Her wide smile with a mouthful of cereal. 

Aching goodbyes. 

Relieved smiles.

Feeling at home.

Feeling like home. 

If infidelity is hard to imagine. It’s because you are not inclined to it.

Some people are.

The tension in her friends’ faces when they see you again.

The wrong answer given to a careful question.

The twisting discomfort in your stomach.

Wet cheeks.

Not being able to catch your breath. 

Staring at a wall.

Feeling more alone than you ever did before.

A future falling away in your mind.

Her explanations giving you hope.

Trying to move past it.

Her phone lighting up with an unsaved number.

The sudden chill spreading between you.

The shouting.

Her raised voice scaring you. 

The world feeling unrecognisable.

Walking away with nothing left.

Praying to never see her again.

Not getting your wish three times over. 

Staring at the ceiling, begging for a dream that’s not about her.

Seeing a picture of her and someone new. 

Waiting for them to break up.

(Still waiting)

Catching her eye from across the street. 

Cold dread in the pit of your stomach. Standing still as people brush past you.

Seeing a glimpse of her future.

Feeling the emptiness of your own.

Remembering that look in her eye. That day in the bookshop.

A/N:

P.S. Bullet point requests remain very welcome. <3

[makeitmakesomesense]

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: I wrote this a thousand years ago for a bullet point fic request. Very much the angst to fluff experience.

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Natasha was mad at you.

Natasha was always mad at you.

She was tired of you too. You knew that already.

You tried.

You didn’t just love her for her best days.

Work became stressful for her. You tried to help.

It wasn’t hard to love her extra. You thought about Natasha all the time.

You ran her baths after missions.

You made her dinner every night.

You didn’t tell her about the awful days at your work. You kept quiet about the redundancy fears.

Natasha’s job was life and death. Natasha was already getting tired of you.

Natasha rarely touched you. You tried not to see it.

You took every opportunity to be close to her. You couldn’t help it.

Natasha was like breathing. You didn’t know how to stop.

You braided her hair as she watched TV. She radiated tension every time you started, as if your proximity was unsettling to her. 

You felt her slowly relax beneath your fingers. You felt her slowly forget your presence. You pretended it was intimacy.

Natasha started staying late at work. She started grabbing food on the drive home.

You tried not to be clingy, but you’d already built your world around her.

Natasha told you that she could run her own baths.

The redundancy scare was over at work before she’d ever asked about your day.

You stopped ignoring the signs.

You said something one night when she came to bed.

It was the worst timing, but it was hard to find a good moment with someone who didn’t want you around.

Natasha was wearing an oversized shirt. It used to be yours. An aching familiarity washed through you.

Her legs were bare, your mouth went dry. You caught her eye. 

Natasha’s irritation at your attention was barely hidden.

The unfairness caught in your throat. Your mouth twisted with the bitterness.

‘Stop hating me.’ You pleaded into the quiet room. Your bones ached.

You felt Natasha’s silent shock.

You’d been putting bandaids on everything for too long. You’d forgotten how to speak your mind.

Your hands clenched and you let more of the feeling escape.

‘I’m trying to love you.’ You heard yourself whimper. You felt like dust in the air. You felt like the person Natasha saw. 

Your shoulders crumpled forwards and you drew your knees up in front of you.

It was already too late.

Tears ran down your cheeks and you pressed your face into your hands.

‘Y/N’ Natasha started and she sounded unsure. You didn’t know what she was thinking. You didn’t know her.

‘I’m not even asking for it back.’ You cried, unable to look at her. You were too small. ‘Just please let me love you. Because I can’t stop.’

Your fingers clung to the bedcovers.

The bed dipped beside you. Your heart stuttered at Natasha’s presence. You hated your heart.

‘Y/N’ Natasha repeated, and you knew she was crying.

You felt your sobs turn hysterical. Natasha’s hand rested tentatively between your shoulder blades.

You hated everything. You felt too touch starved for even this. Her hand burned against your back. 

Sudden awareness flooded you. You realised that Natasha was faking this. You remembered the skin crawling feeling of being unwanted. You shrugged away from Natasha’s touch.

Her hand dropped immediately to her lap. You blinked away the tears clinging to your eyelashes and tried to look at her.

‘Don’t fake it.’ You told her quietly, and a steady certainty washed over you. ‘You can go.’

Natasha’s cheeks shone with tear tracks. Her mouth opened but she didn’t speak.

‘I never meant to make you feel trapped.’ You told Natasha. Her wide eyes watched you. You caught the reflection of your own pain. 

Her hand fidgeted suddenly in her lap. A phantom urge from when she used to want to touch you.

You looked away and Natasha stood up.

You heard her leave the bedroom.

You felt relieved and you felt empty. 

Life was thawing, you were unfreezing.

You still loved Natasha. You were burning inside. 

You didn’t expect her to come back.

She knocked the door uncertainly as she opened it.

Your eyes clung to hers again.

Natasha hesitated at the sight of you. Her hand gripped the side of the door. 

‘I can’t take it.’ She whispered, her voice scratching in her throat.

Your jaw tightened. Her words felt unfair.

‘I can’t take it anymore.’ Natasha continued, and suddenly her voice was rising higher. Her hand left the door and clenched itself into a fist.

‘You keep giving.’ Natasha shouted into the room and you felt her frustration with you sharply. ‘You won’t stop being there.’ 

Natasha’s lips pressed together as she started to cry again. She shook her head in silent distress.

You found yourself getting to your feet. 

You watched Natasha’s misery turn half hysterical.

She shook her head more emphatically and you froze across the room from her.

‘No.’ She muttered distractedly through the tears. ‘I can’t take it. You can’t keep giving me everything.’

‘Natasha.’ You started, not knowing what else you could say. 

‘You shouldn’t have to be my family.’ Natasha moaned out suddenly and her arms wrapped tightly around herself. ‘I can’t take that from you too.’ She whispered. 

You braced Natasha’s arms just as she started sinking to the ground. 

Natasha tilted forward and you felt her panicked breaths against your neck. Her arms gripped you desperately.

You wrapped her in a firm hug. You held her close for as long as you could.

Natasha’s breathing evened out slowly against your chest. 

Slowly she moved back.

You recognised the lonely look in Natasha’s eyes. 

You kissed her lips once, softly.

Natasha’s breaths were shallow. Her eyes were shining. 

‘I’m not giving when I’m with you.’ You told Natasha simply. ‘I’m wanting. Always wanting. So much, I feel greedy.’

You watched her read the truth in you.

Natasha’s lips pressed together. She nodded wordlessly and a tear fell. You understood what she couldn’t say.

Her fingers trailed down your arm. She found your hand and held it tightly.

‘You love me?’ You asked quietly, because you couldn’t help but check.

Natasha nodded. ‘So much.’ She added quietly

Fear rippled through her. You squeezed her hand in reassurance.

‘Then, we’re already a family.’ You whispered as you moved your face closer to hers.

This time, Natasha kissed you.

You felt the truth of everything in her lips.

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A/N: P.S. Did you get my super subtle hint about wanting some bullet point fic requests?

[makeitmakesomesense]

Not Until You

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This is based on an excellent prompt from a lovely anon. Just a heads up there is a domestic violence plot line in this. It also uses a prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 18th of January, which is 'flashbacks'.

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There is a difference between being lonely and being alone. 

Natasha had never been sure which she was. Not until you.

Natasha was good at making friends. She could be charming. She knew how to make someone feel like the centre of her universe. It was part of her job and she was always excellent at her job.

You didn’t feel like a job. 

Natasha first saw you at the Avenger’s Compound reception desk. It was the private desk, used mainly to help coordinate the various members of the team. 

You were clearly new. You were spinning behind the desk in your office chair. Your eyes were closed to stop yourself getting dizzy.

Natasha cleared her throat to get your attention. You fell off the chair in shock. 

You were laughing as you let her help you back to your feet. Your laugh was contagious, Natasha felt herself begin to laugh too. 

You checked the official schedule on your computer and told her the updated location of her next meeting. 

‘Don’t fall off again.’ Natasha warned you as she left, her teeth flashing in a delighted smile. 

‘Can’t make promises I might not keep.’ You teased with one more spin. 

Natasha thought about you for the whole meeting. When it was over, she went back to reception. 

You looked up from your screen when you heard her approach. Your smile went wide when you recognised her. 

Natasha stopped awkwardly at the desk. She realised, for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do. Her lips parted a little and she tried to think of something to say.

You watched, amused grin only getting wider. You tapped a pen against your chin. 

‘Wanna show me where to get lunch?’ You suggested after a moment. ‘I’m the new kid.’

Natasha nodded wordlessly. You stood up and paused for a moment. 

You looked down at your seat and then back at Natasha. 

‘Do you want to have a go?’ You offered seriously.

Natasha’s lips quirked automatically. 

With her eyes closed and her legs pulled up at an awkward angle, Natasha felt your hands on the back of the chair. She felt the sudden push and the sudden whirling air around her. 

She laughed suddenly without meaning to. As the chair slowed, she opened one eye. When she looked at you, you started to laugh too. You leaned forward and lightly brushed the wildest strands of her hair back into place.

‘Sorry about that.’ You said so happily that Natasha knew you didn’t mean it. 

Natasha stood up from the chair, willing away the residual dizziness that she’d been trained to easily withstand. She grabbed your hand on impulse. 

She led you to the wall of elevators and down to the cafeteria. 

Once you’d bought your lunches, you sat together in the bustle of the loud cafeteria.

Natasha had never had an easier conversation. You smiled and made jokes with just the right dryness to make her smile too. You asked her the kind of silly questions no-one had ever thought of before. 

Natasha found herself explaining the plots of her favourite Bond movies, moving her hands as she imitated the big explosions. You rested your elbow on the table and your head in your hand. You watched with a simple kind of interest. 

It made Natasha feel like someone new. A different kind of attention to anything she’d experienced before. 

It took nearly an hour for you to mention your partner. You checked your phone and Natasha caught sight of the many unread texts. You explained easily how much your boyfriend wanted you to have a good day. 

Maybe Natasha would have noticed something. Later she thought about it. 

She could recall the details in hindsight. The way you stopped eating after you saw the texts. The way you kept checking your phone for his reply. 

Maybe Natasha would have noticed, if she hadn’t been so disappointed. 

.

Natasha started to tell herself that maybe her favourite people were not meant to be romantic interests. 

She was still luckier than she ever expected. She had best friends so beloved that they had become her family. 

Still, she was not unaware of the pattern. The people she liked the most usually didn’t have other intentions than friendship. She wondered sometimes if it was subconscious. If she liked them because they weren’t interested in her. Not like that. 

She wondered about it, but she’d never really worried about it.

Not until you.  

. 

As time moved on, you became friends with all the Avengers through your job. You started hanging out once in a while, invited to spend time with the team as a whole. 

Natasha worried about everything. The more she saw you. The more she worried. 

It was so easy to be casual around you. To acknowledge the longing that had started to eat at her insides. 

Natasha realised that she had not just spent her life alone. Natasha had spent it lonely.

You were so casual. It made her sick with fright. 

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When you first came to a Friday movie night with the team, you walked in and Natasha watched your eyes light up with happiness at the sight of her. You made a beeline for the space next to her on the sofa. Your shoulder pressed against hers unthinkingly. 

Trying to seem relaxed, Natasha reached for a spare cushion to hug against her chest. She watched the movie with glazed eyes, her skin aching with a want that she hated herself for having. The desperate want to be allowed something like this.

You were not having the same concerns. When Tony loudly insisted that you all stay to watch the sequel too. You yawned quietly and tucked your feet up on the sofa. You tugged at the cushion in Natasha’s hands. You smiled reassuringly at her wide-eyed confusion and wordlessly placed the pillow onto her lap. 

You rested your head there and turned back to the movie. 

Natasha stared down at you, her heart in her mouth. It took five minutes until she was brave enough to rest her hand on your shoulder. Your hoodie was oversized, she wondered if it belonged to your boyfriend. 

The movie was nearly over when a strange man burst through the Common Room door. Tony was on his feet in half a second, with a repulsor already on his hand and ready to fire.

Natasha’s instincts hesitated with the need to protect you.

The man’s mouth dropped as he took in the sight of the Avengers. He raised his hands in exaggerated surrender. He laughed once and the sound was laidback. 

‘Sorry man.’ He nodded at Tony. ‘I was worried about Y/N.’

Tony’s repulsor dropped to his side. 

‘You’re the boyfriend.’ He stated with muted relief. 

The man smiled. His attention turned to focus on you. Natasha watched the slight tightening of his eyes. The flicker of his gaze between you and her. His pause on Natasha’s hand, still unthinkingly on your shoulder. 

‘Sure am.’ He said slowly. ‘I’m sorry to ruin the evening. I was waiting to pick you up and I got worried when you didn’t show.’

Natasha watched you scramble for your phone between the sofa cushions. The screen lit up and she saw the many missed calls and the litany of messages. Then, she saw the lockscreen of you kissing him. 

Natasha felt like the smallest person in the world. Shame rose like a lump in her throat and she tried to swallow it down.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You mumbled to the room, running your hand distractedly through your hair. ‘I completely forgot the time.’

Tony made a melodramatic tutting noise. 

You hurried out of the room, your boyfriend’s arm slung easily around your shoulders. 

Natasha wondered if the feeling in her gut was jealousy.

She’d never felt it before. Whatever it was, it was something new.

.

Natasha had never had a birthday party before. She hadn’t even thought about it. It was one of the simplest parts of always being alone. 

Except this year, when Tony made his annual joke about throwing her a party, Natasha found herself shrugging rather than showing him the middle finger. 

Tony had grinned victoriously as he promised to organise it all on her behalf.

Natasha invited you in person. She walked over to the desk where you spent most of your days. Her hands were in her pockets in an effort to look casual. You were tapping a pen against the desk absentmindedly, clearly lost in thought. You smiled when you caught sight of her. It was smaller than usual but you were clearly still pleased to see her.

Natasha’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. 

‘Hi.’ She said simply, beginning the speech she’d rehearsed in her head more than once. ‘I’m having a party on Wednesday. Just a small thing with a few friends. If you’re free, you’re invited.’

The words came out strangely and Natasha winced internally. She sounded too neutral, too factual. 

You tapped the pen against your mouth. Your brow furrowed as you thought about it. Natasha tried not to worry too obviously. She hadn’t actually expected it to be a difficult question for you to answer. Her  fingers began to tap on the top of the desk.

‘What sort of party?’ You asked after a moment. 

‘My birthday.’ Natasha answered, voice small and tight. ‘I don’t know the exact day. So I’ve never had a party before. But this year, I just thought-’

The uncertainty in your eyes changed to quiet resolve. You gave Natasha a gentle smile. Your hand reached over the desk and grabbed her fidgeting one. Natasha’s hand went still at your touch. 

‘I’d love to.’ You promised readily. You squeezed Natasha’s hand softly. ‘I’ll be there.’ 

Your smile turned playful. ‘And I know exactly what to get you.’ 

.

Natasha spent most of Wednesday with a knot in her stomach. It was rare for her to not be able to anticipate something. Tony had refused to share any details. She kept trying to picture what a birthday party designed specifically for her might be like.

When, that evening, she walked to the Avenger’s common floor, her question was thoroughly answered. 

Her five favourite people stood in the centre of the room. At the sight of her, they gave a messy, uncoordinated cheer. Natasha stood in the doorway, as a new kind of feeling rolled through her. She didn’t have time to take it in.

Clint walked over, placing a cheap birthday hat on her head and hooking the elastic under her chin. He hugged her with the steadiness that came from being family. 

You were the next person to hug her. Natasha forgot to wipe the dazed look from her face as you bounded over. Your hug was tight and sudden. Natasha returned it automatically.

‘You deserve the world Natasha.’ You whispered, kissing her cheek. Natasha felt her mouth go dry, already at a loss for words.

You moved your attention then and, with great focus, attached an oversized ‘Birthday Girl’ badge to the front of Natasha’s sweatshirt. Then, you squeezed her hands in yours.

Natasha stared down at the upside down letters on the badge and prayed to some higher power that she would remember every detail of this moment. That she might always feel like this.

The party was loud, people talked and chatted so enthusiastically that the room felt full. Cheesy music played from the ceiling. Cheap decorations littered every surface and wall. Multi-coloured balloons bounced haplessly around the room.

You pulled Natasha over to a far corner of the room after she’d finished saying hello to everyone. You gestured over to your present as you approached. 

‘Happy Birthday.’ You beamed, awaiting her reaction. 

Natasha stopped and stared in shock. Then, her lips pulled back into a wide smile and she laughed loudly. The laugh was contagious and you started to laugh too.

An office chair stood in the corner of the room. A large pink ribbon had been stuck to the fabric seat. 

‘I’ve thought it all through.’ You teased happily. ‘We can have races in the hallway.’ 

Natasha kept smiling at your explanation. Then suddenly, without expecting it, her face twisted into something much more overwhelmed. You watched as she fought to hide the expression. 

You paused unsurely and then with a small hesitation you reached for her hand.

‘I wanted to get you it.’ You started quietly. ‘Because of that first day we met.’ 

You gave Natasha a tentative smile as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it in hurried embarrassment. 

‘I wish you could have seen your face.’ You kept talking softly. ‘When you were spinning around. Natasha. I’ve never seen someone look so free.’

Natasha hugged you with sudden, tight fervour. She murmured a thank you and then she murmured an apology.

You hugged her back wordlessly, letting the perfect moment linger.

.

A hand grabbed your shoulder and your world fell apart. 

‘What the fuck.’ Your boyfriend seethed in your ear. You felt yourself fall out of Natasha’s embrace. 

Natasha stared at you and your boyfriend, tear tracks still on her face. Her eyes widened with confusion. 

Your boyfriend grabbed your wrist sharply and pulled you out of the room. You heard the silence of the room behind you, like it was the loudest sound in the world. You felt empty inside. Your mind returned to a place that was its own prison.

.

The silence of the room lingered once you’d left. Natasha felt the group looking uncertainly between each other. At last her worried gaze met Tony’s. His expression was tense, his jaw tight. He nodded slightly and wordlessly Natasha walked with him out of the room. 

They heard you before they found you. 

A quiet cry of pain that made Natasha’s heart thunder. 

She followed the sound to the right room.

She threw open the door to find you and your boyfriend behind it. You looked small with your back against the wall as he stood over you. You were already crying. Your hand was cupping your cheek. 

Natasha’s hand found a man’s throat. 

In many ways, Tony’s presence was a blessing. Thoughtless murders were rarely good ideas. Tony ripped your boyfriend out of Natasha’s grasp and pulled him out of the room. Natasha watched the iron man suit still forming around his body as he walked.

Abruptly, Natasha’s attention turned back to you. The world crumbled as she watched you silently. Your body heaved with sudden, uncontrolled sobs. 

Carefully, desperately, Natasha drew you into a gentle hug. You fell into her arms, your head pressing against her body as you only cried harder.

Natasha’s hands rubbed soothingly along your back. Her body burned with emotions she couldn’t explain. Sadness and love and self-loathing. 

She kissed your hair and hummed a tuneless sound. She’d done that once, trying to comfort her little sister in a dark shipping container. She wondered why she’d never thought of that memory before.

It took a long time for you to speak. When you did, your voice was shaky.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You croaked out, face still pressed against Natasha. ‘I’m so sorry. I ruined your party.’

You pulled back and tried to make eye contact with Natasha, wiping tears hurriedly from your face. 

Natasha was too busy examining the marks on your skin. Her thumb brushed your reddened jaw with the lightest touch. You fought the unthinking instinct to flinch. 

‘You’re not alone.’ Natasha said simply, her heavy stare flickering over to meet yours. ‘Whatever you need. Whatever that means for you. You’re not alone.’

You forced yourself to give a smile. It was the habit that had always kept the world at a distance. 

Natasha let out a long breath. Her lips tugged with sadness as your smile began to crumble under her steady stare. 

Natasha’s mind filled with sudden flashbacks. All the moments she never let herself think about.

She remembered the Red Room and the sounds of little girls trying not to cry at night. Trying to find the girl with reddened eyes the next morning, and offering to braid her hair. Hugging her sister for the last time. Maria finding her in a storage closet and gripping her hands as tight as she could when her first mission went wrong and she forgot how to breathe.

‘When we feel our most lonely.’ Natasha whispered. ‘Sometimes that’s how we learn not to be alone.’

When you started crying again, Natasha cried too. The sadness was contagious but it wasn’t bad. 

She’d never felt so glad of someone else. 

Not until you.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

Two Trees

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is a lovely prompt from a lovely anon. There is some angstier themes (kidnapped!reader). It also uses a prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 17th of January, which is 'nerve'.

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When you were in high school, you read a poem. It was about love. It talked about two trees growing into one. You thought it was stupid. 

You don’t anymore. 

When your life tangles with someone else, it is impossible to see a world without them. There is no sense in thinking separately. The future has become a shared prospect. Together, you will grow endlessly towards the bright sun that lives above your heads.

There is no longer a world without them. The person you were before them is no longer there. If you ever have to live after them, you will be someone else then too.

You have not lost yourself in this process. You have become something more. 

.

You are standing across the room for Natasha. You are at a party. A social event for important people to meet the Avengers in person. Your gazes meet automatically when people say stupid things. You share knowing smiles. Every thought runs between you wordlessly. 

Natasha is your most familiar sight.

You have spent more time looking at her than anyone or anything else in the world. The reverse is true for her.

This is, in itself, a miracle.

She sips her drink and grins at you. Her wedding band is clinking against the glass. It is scuffed from time. She wears it occasionally on missions. You like that it has been to so many places. You love that it follows her to the places that you can’t go.

You squeeze her gently when you walk past. Natasha kisses your cheek. You raise no eyebrows from the people around you. This is familiar to them too. 

You go to the quietest drinks bar, secluded in a much smaller room. The crowds tend to congregate in one place, no matter the space available. 

You order a drink and revel in the sudden silence of the empty room. 

You take one sip and know something is wrong. It should be the easiest moment to resolve. You stand up, ready to go and find Natasha in the sea of people next door. You will only need to look at her. Natasha will understand. 

You stagger as it hits you, a hand covers your mouth. 

The world goes dark as a heaviness forces your eyes closed. 

.

Natasha becomes uneasy three minutes later. It takes her another four minutes to check every room and the bathrooms too.

The alarm is raised. 

You are already in the back of a van. You are being taken to a place you can’t imagine. 

.

There are hells that can be endured. There are hells that can’t be.

This is somewhere in the middle.

.

Natasha finds herself staring in a bathroom mirror 48 hours later. She hasn’t slept. She hasn’t eaten. She doesn’t recognise herself in the mirror. She cries because your toothbrush is next to hers.

Her body curls in half because it can’t ever separate itself from the person who is gone. 

.

They keep asking you for information. They are under the impression that you have secrets. You have nothing. You are kicked for sport. 

.

Three months without a single clue. 

Natasha is found one night, freezing and standing on a balcony. The people who care about her start to take shifts watching her. 

It is not the pain that is intolerable. It is realising there might be no end to it.

Natasha repeats the same fruitless steps again and again. 

.

They don’t give you enough water. 

It’s not on purpose. You are locked in some basement that people easily forget.

The lack of food is on purpose. You can’t tell what is hunger and what is injury. You just know you can’t move.

You lie on concrete floors and wonder when you’ll die. Your skin itches with a feeling like a disease. 

.

Natasha has resorted to hunting down anyone who might want to hurt her through you. 

It is a terrible plan. The alternative is inconceivable. 

Natasha cuts her hair when she is sick of being the person who is dying inside. The first cut with the scissors sends a clump of hair to the ground with a soft thump. 

Natasha wonders if she will look like who she was before you. She curls up on the tiled floor and cries until she is sick.

.

They remember you again. 

You are useless. They have realised this. They visit without the same expectations.

They ask you other questions. About fucking Natasha. About hurting her. About doing both things together. They laugh about it.

This is recreation for them. You don’t remember how to have feelings like you did before.

You know you are grateful that you have been remembered. 

.

Natasha gets an alert from Tony.

One of the missing bar staff from the party has finally resurfaced on some CCTV footage. The man is filmed laughing as he walks down the street, talking on the phone to someone. 

Natasha plays the footage on repeat as she waits. 

It takes Tony an hour to produce an address. 

.

When the basement door skitters off its hinges. You can only stare at it. 

Natasha’s silhouette fills the empty space. The bright light of the world behind her burns your eyes. You turn away. 

.

Her fingers tremble when they touch you. Her shallow breathing is too loud.

.

You are briefly in an induced coma. There is a medical team trying to heal injuries sustained over 9 months.

.

Natasha only has the nerve to watch from the far side of the room, her back pressed against the wall. 

She wonders if happiness is something she has lost. 

.

When you begin to wake up, tears run down your cheeks before you open your eyes. You wake with a  feeling that nothing will ever be good again. 

You listen to Natasha’s shallow breathing across the room. After a while, you swallow and groan. You don’t remember how to be alive. You have spent too long trying not to die. 

You open your eyes and look at Natasha, standing against the wall.

You can tell that she is afraid.

.

Natasha’s brain has filled with a fuzzy blankness. She wonders how long she can stare at you. How long until your face is familiar once more. How long until she loses you again.

She splays her palms flat against the wall behind her. She keeps staring.

.

You watch Natasha with her palms against the wall. You have rarely seen her act so completely on instinct.

She feels out of control. 

It takes a moment for you to realise that you do too. 

You nod wordlessly and Natasha blinks in understanding. Her shoulders dip with the sudden weight of being seen. 

.

Natasha tugs at her shorter hair. She is self-conscious. 

The practical choice still seems too severe. It looks uncaring. It is a person that she doesn’t want to be anymore.

.

You tilt your head in confusion when Natasha starts tugging at her hair. 

She’s changed it. It looks so clean that you almost feel jealous. Your own hair is limp and bedraggled. 

She tugs it again, too hard.

You give a hoarse attempt at a wolf-whistle. 

.

Natasha freezes, her fingers still clinging to the ends of her hair. Her lips part in barely hidden shock.

.

You nod pointedly at her and then you wink. 

.

Natasha rolls her eyes slowly and there is a twisted kind of misery behind them. It is the conclusion of the endless pain. She has remembered what it is to be near you

Tears cling to her eyelashes. Natasha’s lips pull into a reluctant, inevitable smile. 

.

You give a barking laugh. It is a noise you can’t remember ever making before.

.

Natasha walks forward like the sound is a siren call. She crawls onto the bed with you. She will curl into your side until you finally become one stitched together soul. She doesn’t want to be alone again. 

She will always be alone if she is not with you.

.

You stroke her head gently. It is automatic. It is the familiarity that comes with endless time. 

Your wedding band catches slightly in her hair.

.

Natasha smiles against your neck. 

She loves that ring. It has followed you to the places that she couldn’t go.

.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

The Next Copernicus

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This is a lovely prompt from a lovely anon. It also uses a prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 16th of January, which is 'golden'.

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Sometimes Scarlett gave you a look. 

It was a careful kind of look. A cautious smile and a long stare. 

It was gratitude. 

Usually, you’d reach for her hand. You’d give it a small squeeze and let her smile widen with the easy pleasure of being together. 

You didn’t say anything because she didn’t need to be grateful. You had no right to expect a beautiful life to be simple. For one thing, it wouldn’t be half as interesting.

.

The introduction to Scarlett’s daughter was always going to be a slow one. You supported it readily. It was easy to tell that they were each other’s world.

When Scarlett talked about her daughter, you could tell you were listening to her biggest fan. It was the kind of endless love that can’t hide itself. A dry comment about her never-ending princess phase, sounded too tender to be sarcasm.

Scarlett asked you about the future after only a few dates. You could tell she was nervous about bringing it up. She told you that she knew it was stupid to be asking. She told you she didn’t really expect any answers. 

You’d been expecting the conversation. With her career, an international co-parenting arrangement and a young daughter. Scarlett was like the sun in a complicated solar system. There was no question of expecting all the sunlight for yourself.

You told her that. In a stumbling explanation that sounded silly to your own ears.

Scarlett’s smile softened. She gave you a careful kind of look.

‘I’m not really the sun.’ She said after a moment. ‘Sometimes none of it is easy. I’m not easy. Sometimes I’m horrible. I’m mean and tired and stressed because everything is going wrong and it feels like my fault.’ 

You remembered the last date you’d had with her. It had been the evening after Scarlett’s daughter had left to stay with her father. Scarlett had barely mentioned that fact in passing when she’d invited you to her house.

Something had felt off from the start. A quiet exhaustion from her that you couldn’t place. Scarlett kept closer to you than usual but you could tell her mind was farther away. She started telling you she was worried about a new project she’d signed up for, and then she trailed off halfway forgetting her train of thought.  

She’d offered to cook on the phone, but when it got late she just shrugged and suggested take out instead. She drank more wine than usual, in that melancholy way that means it’s not about the wine. You could tell she didn’t like her home so empty. When you suggested staying over, she’d looked relieved. 

Scarlett’s life was complicated in ways that you knew you didn’t understand.

.

‘I’m not the sun.’ Scarlett repeated carefully, her tired stare willing you to heed the warning.

‘Okay.’ You’d shrugged, with a smile full of playful disagreement. You reached out casually until your hand brushed her arm.

You pretended to hiss out as you yanked your hand back. You pretended to cradle it to your chest.

‘Wow you’re like a million degrees.’ You muttered. You glanced back up to Scarlett and her smile full of exasperated fondness. 

You pretended to squint, shading your eyes. ‘Sorry, you’re just so blindingly bright.’

Scarlett smacked your arm playfully and then she kissed you with an urgency that told you everything she didn’t say.

.

You first met Scarlett’s daughter through a series of carefully constructed casual meetings. You came to hang out with her and Scarlett for a few hours one Saturday. You’d arrived more prepared than you’d ever been for a job interview.

Your Disney Princess knowledge was immediately to the test and you rattled off information confidently about Elsa and Anna and the overall state of Arendelle. 

After you made a comment about something being ‘so Olaf’, Scarlett turned to you with an exaggerated look of surprise.

‘I studied.’ You whispered with a wink as you grabbed her empty coffee mug and left to go refill it. Scarlett’s lips pressed together as she tried not to give you her widest smile. 

You smirked knowingly as you left.

.

It took six months to get to an easy rhythm. 

The first time it happened, Scarlett called you with barely hidden delight in her voice. She told you that her daughter had asked if you were free that Saturday. And if you’d ever been to see the ducks at the local park.

The stamp of approval from Scarlett’s daughter was slow to achieve and then unwaveringly absolute. She held your hand for an hour, pointing out the best parts of a park that was very ordinary. She explained which ducks were nicer than the others.

That night, after her daughter had gone to bed, Scarlett stood with you in the kitchen. You were going to leave any minute but the triumph of the day had kept you a little longer. A glass of white wine in one hand. Scarlett undid her hairstyle, letting the loose hair frame her face. Her eyes glittered when she looked at you. Unthinkingly perfect. 

Scarlett moved closer to you, she let her head rest on your shoulder. You swayed together to imaginary music. You kissed her hair and let the golden waves fill your mind. She was daylight in the morning, even at night. 

.

Going public was a phrase that you started to hear more and more. You must have missed the first time Scarlett had tentatively dropped it into a conversation. You’d clearly missed a few more cues. 

That’s what you learned when Scarlett returned to the bedroom to wake you up, still in her gym clothes from an early morning workout.

There was something confrontational about her stance at the end of the bed. The sharpness in the way she busied herself, changing into her clothes for the rest of the day.

‘You practically live here already.’ She told you in a slightly tense tone. 

‘I do.’ You agreed unsurely, trying not to look as sleepy as you felt. 

‘I know it’s horrible when a relationship goes public.’ Scarlett continued with a brittle kind of force. ‘No-one knows that better than me. It’s always horrible. It’s never easy. Last time -.’ She hesitated as she caught herself falling into a story about her ex. 

‘He hated it.’ You surmised carefully, offering her a cautious smile. 

‘Yes.’ Scarlett’s gaze turned worried now. She threw her t-shirt into the laundry basket. She paused for a moment, pretending to look out at the view of the backyard. After a moment, she asked quietly.

‘So, what about you? Would you hate it too?’

‘Being with you?’ You teased, leaning forward to touch her bare back reassuringly. You felt her relax at your touch. ‘Being with you anywhere, any time, any place. That’s the dream.’ 

Scarlett pressed her back against you and you heard her sigh. She reached for your hand and gave it a wordless squeeze. 

You yawned suddenly, your body reluctantly accepting that you were definitely awake. 

‘I don’t know how you can sleep so long.’ Scarlett teased suddenly as she turned and reached around your body for a fresh t-shirt. 

You rolled your eyes and pretended to look outraged. ‘Hey! Do you know how hard it is to try and fall asleep next to the sun?’

You felt the playful whip of the t-shirt against your shoulder and the stupid smile spreading across your face. 

.

Nothing was going to plan. 

The live Frozen show was everything Scarlett’s daughter had dreamed about. 

The traffic meant you were probably going to miss the first ten minutes. 

You were all officially blaming the traffic and not Scarlett’s urgent work call that had delayed leaving in the first place.

You sat in the back of the taxi, talking to her daughter and pretending Scarlett didn’t look stressed out of her mind. You watched her in the corner of your eye, refreshing her email impatiently for whatever they’d promised to send on the call. 

You were engaged in a lengthy discussion of ranking all the best Disney princesses. You were asking every follow up question you could think of, just to make the conversation stretch out. 

Scarlett shot you a look of quiet stress and you tried to give her a small smile. Her expression shifted into one of disappointment. At herself, at her unrelenting work life. The complicated balance you would never understand. 

‘Which princess is your Mom?’ You asked loudly, giving Scarlett a pointed grin as you sat back and let her daughter present one of her favourite discussion topics. 

When the taxi finally pulled up outside the theatre, there was a brief moment when everything felt lighter than air. Your arm was around Scarlett’s waist, her hand was on her daughter’s shoulder.

As you left the taxi, you realised you were just down the street, as close as the taxi could get to the front of the theater. 

You heard the first click and felt Scarlett tense instantly beside you.

It was something like facing a swarm of animals. 

You met an onslaught of paparazzi like you had never experienced before. You moved forward instinctively, leaving Scarlett’s daughter sandwiched safely in the space between yourself and her mother. You pushed forward, trying to clear a path through the sea of shouting people. 

Despite the bedlam, you heard one of the worst noises you’d ever heard. 

Scarlett’s daughter let out a quiet, worried cry. You felt yourself react before your mind had engaged. 

You spun around, lifting her up easily. You didn’t have time to understand what had scared her.

‘Hey. Watch it.’ You snapped at the crowd. ‘You could hurt my kid.’

You felt the burrowing of a small face against your neck and knew your only option was to get to the theater as fast as possible. 

You didn’t pause until you were inside the silent theater lobby. A member of staff gave you a wide eyed look. 

Scarlett came in behind you a moment later. 

‘Sorry.’ You murmured, as you walked over to give her a careful hug. ‘I thought hurrying was our best option.’ You gave a meaningful glance at her daughter. 

Scarlett wrapped her arms around the pair of you. She kissed her daughter’s head. She gave you a look full of warmth. It told you everything you needed to know. You smiled back and reached down to let her daughter stand back on the ground. 

You took one of her daughter’s hands and Scarlett took the other.

‘Please can we hurry up.’ You pretended to whine suddenly. ‘I really don’t want to miss my favourite songs.’

Scarlett gave you your favourite fond smile as you all walked together to join the audience. 

.

In the brief respite between two songs enthusiastically chanted by the very loud audience, you leaned over to Scarlett.

‘Two suns.’ You told her with a smile. Scarlett’s head tilted in confusion as she leaned closer. 

‘I’m the next Copernicus.’ You told her stupidly. ‘I’m the first person to realise.’ 

Scarlett looked at her daughter, standing out of her seat and ready to sing loudly again. 

‘Two suns.’ She murmured. 

You nodded with fake solemnity. 

‘No wonder we always need the air conditioning on.’

Scarlett gave you a look. It was a careful kind of look. A cautious smile and a long stare. 

You reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze. You let her smile widen with the easy pleasure of being together. 

You couldn’t ask for anything else.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

.

[makeitmakesomesense]

The Limits We Reach

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1K

A/N: This is a wonderful prompt from a lovely friend. It uses a prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 15th of January, which is 'tongue-tied'.

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You are in the training room. It is past midnight and you are watching her. Natasha hits the punching bag with the same unflinching rhythm.

You are standing behind her in the doorway. You watch the muscles in her shoulders coil and spring. Sweat has curled the strands of hair at the base of her neck, the rest hangs in a short ponytail that swings with every punch. 

You wonder if she will ever stop.

You clear your throat and watch the briefest pause in her movements. You feel her waiting. The pressure makes you tongue-tied. Natasha keeps punching and you know that she doesn’t want to hear you anyway. 

You walk back to your room, to the food laid out on the dining table. You pack it up wordlessly into tupperware containers. You don’t eat anything. You feel empty inside and eating only reminds you that it can’t be fixed.

You are lying in bed staring at the ceiling when you hear the front door open and shut. You turn away from the bedroom door when you hear her approach. Natasha pauses to assess your faux steady breathing as you pretend to sleep. You know it doesn’t fool her. She walks through to the bathroom and after a moment you hear the shower run. 

Tears stain your cheeks before you realise that you are crying. You wonder if anyone really wants to know you.

Natasha pulls back the covers and lies beside you. Silence stretches out. You know she isn’t sleeping.

Ever since they told her about this mission. About the young girls suffering and the scale of it. She can’t sleep.

She trains like her effort will correlate to lives saved. Natasha feels out of control. You know her.

Your heart is breaking from too many things. Under the sheets, you slide your hand over to touch her warm skin. Natasha tenses.

You pull your hand back to your own chest. You fight the urge to cry harder, you fight to keep your lungs breathing steady. You bunch the fabric of your t-shirt tightly in a fist and try not to make a sound.

Natasha is gone when you wake up. 

.

Loneliness is the latest epidemic. 

The headline accompanies the breakfast news broadcast on the TV.

You sip your morning coffee and try not to think about it.

A tupperware is missing from the fridge and you know that Natasha will not be back for lunch. 

You spend the day with your thoughts for company.

When the evening gets long again and Natasha doesn’t appear, you begin to worry.

There is the gnawing discomfort of being alone.

There is the shame of being touch starved in a bed next to someone you love. 

Worst of all is the fear that Natasha will die. That you are wasting time.

You don’t find her in the training room, you don’t find her anywhere. You pad through the empty halls and you try to decide if she’d leave without telling you.

If there is a place past the hell you are currently in. (If you are about to find it.)

.

Natasha is in the weapons training room. The sharp sounds of a gun being fired set your teeth on edge. It has always set your teeth on edge. 

In another time, Natasha has held you for the fight scenes in movies. She has pressed her lips to your hair. She has been comfort.

You feel incapable. You don’t know how to be hers. 

Natasha turns when she senses your presence behind her. She pulls back the ear defenders so they hang around her neck. She holds the gun casually. You feel the built in terror rise as you can’t look away from the gun.

You swallow and stumble over your question. The only one you ever think to ask.

‘Are you okay?’

The gun twitches in Natasha’s hand and you take a step back. It is instinctive. It is embarrassing.

Natasha rolls her eyes. 

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and beg your tears not to fall. This is ending. This is over. This cannot be love.

‘I’m fine.’ 

She intones it with an obvious implication. Her hand twitches again and the gun moves. You flinch back automatically. She is doing it on purpose.

You force your gaze upward to meet Natasha’s. 

Her jaw is tense. Her eyes are tired. She is stubbornness and misery. 

She blinks a few times too quick and you see her again.

She is scared. She is small. She is the girl in the cargo container, lying to her sister that things will be okay. 

You can’t tell if she loves you. You know that she did once. Every time she held your hand. Every time she smiled that hopeful smile. Every time, you knew.

You don’t look back down to the gun, even though the vague outline of it in your periphery makes you want to claw at your chest.

You look at Natasha’s eyes. The tightness in her jaw. The tilt of her chin and the smallest furrow of her brow.

She might not love you. But you might never stop.

‘I love you.’ 

You force the words out. Your mouth twists into a smile that can only be sad. 

You leave and try not to think about the way it doesn’t matter.

.

Natasha leaves for her mission the next day.

You find yourself in the place that is worse than hell.

(You only find out when she’s already gone.)

.

The mission is supposed to last three weeks. It ends up taking a month and a half.

You have moved out before the second week begins.

.

You realise that the empty feeling comes from having a heart that is too heavy. You don’t know what to do about it. 

All you have is the hope that it will be easier.

.

Natasha calls you. 

The contact flashes up on your phone and you answer without thinking. Your heart is too heavy and it’s full of her. 

‘I did it. I can’t believe. I did it.’ 

She sounds dazed. She sounds like she has witnessed a miracle. You grip your phone tightly because her voice is better than you remembered. Natasha talks about the mission and the words are hazy as you process only the joy behind them.

‘I can’t wait to see you.’ 

The words are tagged on at the end. 

You will always be an afterthought. You hang up.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

.

[makeitmakesomesense]

Hard To Find

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is from a ridiculous prompt from a lovely friend. It uses a lovely prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 14th of January, which is 'psycho'.

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You received a letter. It was simple, if a little formal. It had one request. 

You showed up obediently at the Shawarma place the very next day. Your heart in your mouth at the thought of seeing her. Two men walked in at the same time as you. You noticed the same letter clutched in the hand of the taller one. It made you nervous. 

You looked back down at the name signed on your letter. It steadied you. You would go anywhere for Natasha. You always would. If she wanted you. You’d be there.

The dimly lit establishment was empty. Only a young, blonde woman sat inside at one of the central tables.

The man to your right smiled as he looked around.

‘Wow.’ He said softly. ‘This place takes me back.’

The other man was too busy staring at the blonde woman. 

‘She found you.’ He muttered at last in a tight voice. ‘I told her it was psycho to go back there. But she did.’

The woman nodded simply. She seemed young, maybe in her mid-twenties. She had an unnerving composure, a perfectly controlled casualness. 

She reminded you of Natasha. Not in looks. But in the way she held herself. Not Natasha’s daughter. But definitely Natasha’s someone. 

Her long blonde braid was intricate and beautiful. It ached with the familiarity of someone who wasn’t here.

‘I know you were all expecting my sister.’ The woman said calmly. ‘She’s still on the run.’ 

Her eyes flickered between the men on either side of you. They shifted uncomfortably.

‘If she doesn’t want to be found -’ The bearded man started uncomfortably. 

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. Her petulance was undermined as she played nervously with the rings that decorated her fingers.

‘Of course, she wants to be found. Everyone wants to be found.’

The woman’s gaze turned to you. You felt the intensity behind her eyes. You met it readily. 

‘Just by the right people.’ The woman finished softly, her stare continuing to pierce you. ‘I’m Yelena.’ She introduced herself at last. 

You cleared your throat and answered with your own name. 

Steve Rogers introduced himself and then Clint Barton did. You only nodded as you processed their names. It felt a lifetime ago when she’d told you about them. 

You remembered Natasha, cross-legged on your living room floor. Eating take out chinese food and doing impressions of the other Avengers. The men she laughed at so easily that you knew she must love them,

‘You’re the closest thing she has to family.’ Yelena echoed, almost accusingly. ‘You are the people she loves the most.’ She paused and gave a dangerous smile. ‘Apart from me of course.’

‘I’m retired.’ Clint was the first to speak. His shoulders hung with a heavy kind of fatigue. A guilt that comes from inaction. ‘I can’t find her now. It would compromise my family. I thought Tash-’

Yelena cut him off. 

‘Steve?’ 

You turned too, to look at the man on your right. You wondered how he’d managed to sneak successfully into the center of New York city. His name was on all the wanted lists right next to Natasha’s. And, now that you were looking at him, he was not the kind of man who could go unnoticed in a crowd. 

Steve smiled with inherent politeness.

‘I’ve found a safe place that might work.’ He offered carefully. ‘I’m staying there with some friends now. Natasha would be more than welcome -’

This time it was you who cut him off. 

‘Why isn’t she already there then?’ You felt yourself bite out. A thousand sleepless nights worrying about Natasha suddenly rearing up angrily. ‘If you’ve found a safe place to hide with your friends. Why isn’t she already there?’

Yelena hummed an approving noise and your focus turned back to her. She nodded at you in encouragement.

You felt a longing surge up inside you. The impossible one. The one you rarely let yourself feel. 

‘Of course.’ You choked out. ‘Of course. I’d love to see her. But. After everything that happened between us. I don’t think she’d ever want to see me again.

Your confession rang in the air and you felt the urge to cringe from it. The things that you couldn’t undo.

‘Natasha told me, don't worry. Let me worry about that.’ Yelena assured you, standing up from the table and stretching out her arms leisurely.

‘You two can go.’ She dismissed the men off-handedly, ignoring them with obvious disgust. 

Yelena offered you her hand to shake. You took it readily. You realised abstractly that this all might be a trap. There were a million and one variables that you hadn’t considered. 

You had a life. Not a very interesting one, admittedly. But you had a job, and a cramped apartment and two annoying roommates. 

You had a heart that was finally almost ready to heal. 

The restaurant door slammed shut behind Clint and Steve. You flinched, remembering the echo of another time.

After a moment, Yelena reached under the collar of her shirt. She pulled out the silver arrow charm on her necklace, letting it rest on full display again. 

You stared at it for a long moment. You realised the answer was simple. You loved Natasha. 

You were nothing like an Avenger. You knew nothing about survival. You knew her smile in the mornings. You knew the weight of her head on your shoulder. You knew the touch of her lips on your skin.  

Yelena watched the expression on your face. She patted you on the shoulder.

‘Come on. You look like you need an adventure.’ She encouraged simply as she walked you to the back door. 

Together, you climbed the rickety fire escape upwards. 

When you reached the roof, Yelena made a grand gesture towards the quinjet that she’d clearly landed there earlier. 

‘I’m glad that didn’t take long.’ She muttered as she unlocked the jet and welcomed you aboard. ‘I could not figure out the right button to make it invisible.’

You waited nervously in the middle of the jet as Yelena programmed in a flight path. You suddenly felt very out of control.

Once you were in the air, Yelena turned back to you. She grabbed your hand and pulled you down with her as she sat cross-legged on the hard ground. 

‘So, tell me what happened with you and my sister.’ She directed calmly.

You promptly exploded. You jumped immediately back to your feet.

‘You don’t actually know?!’ You hissed, rubbing your hand through your hair as you started to pace the small room.

Yelena waved her hand casually in the air. ‘Not specifics. Just that it didn’t work out.’

‘Oh my god.’ You felt yourself start to hyperventilate. Your hand covered your chest. ‘We need to turn this jet around. Oh my god.’

Yelena hopped back to her feet, grumbling a little about assassins having stiff joints. She grabbed your arms and forced your attention back to her.

‘Calm down.’ She ordered. 

You noticed abruptly that she was smaller than Natasha. You wondered vaguely how it was possible for her to be even scarier. 

‘It can’t be that bad.’ Yelena determined in a calming voice. ‘It really can’t. Just tell me what happened.’

‘We had a fight.’ You blurted out suddenly. Yelena’s grip loosened and she nodded for you to continue. ‘It was my fault. I told her she wasn’t letting herself be happy. Always putting other people first. Never trusting the people who cared about her.’

You gulped, feeling the burn of threatening tears. 

‘She, uh-. She left and it was bad. I thought we’d broken up. I was sure we had.’

You felt Yelena tense in front of you.

‘It had been nearly a month of radio silence.’ You whispered now. ‘And then Natasha showed up on my doorstep unannounced. She’d been called out on an undercover mission. That's why she hadn't answered. She hadn’t been ignoring me.’ 

You brushed a tear from your cheek. Loathing yourself as you repeated the story.

‘I was halfway through getting ready for a date when I answered the door. She took one look at me and she just knew.’

Yelena stared at you for a long moment. Her brow furrowed as she lost herself in thought. 

‘Okay.’ She said at last. ‘You’re right. Natasha might kill us both.’

.

The quinjet landed in a small clearing in the middle of the Norwegian forest. Yelena hurried you out and turned you in the direction of a lone trailer in the near distance. She patted you on the back and it didn’t reassure you. 

You looked back to Yelena, trapped between the longing and the fear. 

Yelena’s gaze turned sad. She gave you a small shrug.

‘You’ve got to try.’ She told you.

You nodded, turning back to look at the trailer. She was right.

.

You knocked on the trailer door. You were shaking. 

There was a noise inside the trailer and then silence. 

After a moment, the door opened. Natasha Romanoff stood there, a gun in hand. Her long red hair framed her face messily. Her dark, oversized hoodie made her look smaller than you remembered.

You watched her mouth fall open. 

You felt the longing inside you surge into its own creature. You tried to smile.

‘Hi -’  You started nervously. 

Natasha interrupted you with a sudden hug. You staggered slightly at the force of it. Her arms wrapped around you tightly. You swallowed the choking realisation that you were wanted.

Abruptly she pulled back. Her green eyes scanned yours worriedly. Her hand cupped your face, desperately tentative. 

‘Are you real?’ 

‘Yes.’ You felt the tears running down your cheeks. ‘And I’m so glad you’re safe.’

Natasha started crying too. She reached out shakily to find one of your hands. You watched her press her lips to your knuckles. You felt the warm breath on your skin as she found the courage to speak.

‘I thought you'd moved on. That day, when I came back.’ Natasha whispered at last. ‘I don’t. I never. I never wanted to get in the way.’

The fragments of your barely glued together heart fell apart again. 

You leaned forward and kissed Natasha carefully. Slow and lingering, it felt like coming home.

You let the aching longing become what it had always been. You pressed your forehead against Natasha’s. You listened to the sound of her shallow breaths. She squeezed your hand tightly. 

‘Natasha, you can't be in the way.’ You promised desperately. ‘You're everything I wanted to find.’

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

.

[makeitmakesomesense]

The Games We Play

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Day 13: I've merged a amazing request from a lovely friend. Also the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 13th of January, which is 'combat'.

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‘You just go up to her.’ Tony explained, looking down at the tiny screwdriver he was twirling between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s really not that hard.’

‘For you.’ You grumbled, crammed next to him on the small sofa. ‘You lack any real social skills.’ 

Bruce returned to the room and offered you a mug of herbal tea. You wondered if the tea had been part of his agreement to move into the Tower permanently.

‘We all lack social skills.’ He reminded you pointedly as he sat on an armchair on the other side of the tiny room. ‘You just need to spend more time with her.’

You rolled your eyes and pretended that his suggestion didn’t make you nervous. ‘I do spend time with her. I see her every day. We’re literally coworkers.’

Tony slid off the sofa and onto his knees. You both watched as he began his third attempt at constructing the IKEA bookcase. You watched as he flicked through the instruction guide and barely hid your smile. He’d flung it confidently over his shoulder on the first attempt. 

Tony glanced over and caught your smirk. He gave you an unimpressed look. He gestured suddenly between yourself and him.

‘No.’ He corrected dryly. ‘We’re co-workers. Natasha is your wannabe fuck buddy and you’re just being a pussy. ’

You glanced to the plate of cookies that Bruce had placed decoratively on the coffee table.

The urge to fling one at Tony’s head was suddenly overwhelming.

Bruce made a pained noise and you looked up guiltily. He shook his head and you took a sip of your tea, trying not to look sheepish. 

‘It’s not about the amount of time you spend together.’ Bruce tried again, reaching for one of the cookies himself. ‘It’s about the quality of time you spend together.’

Tony swore suddenly, dropping two pieces of wood that he’d been trying to jam together, and returning angrily to the instruction guide. 

‘Find a shared interest.’ Bruce advised, his expression wary as he observed Tony flipping the screwdriver over and using it as a makeshift hammer. ‘Think of a hobby or an activity that you’d both like to do together.’

You sighed as you heard the accidental innuendo. You leaned forward to grab a preemptive cookie.

‘I can think of a hobby you can do together.’ Tony smirked. 

You threw the cookie and watched it smack the side of Tony’s head before crumbling pathetically onto Bruce’s brand new carpet. Tony didn’t flinch.

Bruce put his head in his hands and gave a quiet sigh. After a moment, he gave you a resigned look and handed you the plate of cookies. 

‘Take these to the common area.’ He directed. ‘It’ll give you a reason to talk to her. Remember, try and find something you can do together.’

.

You walked into the shared kitchen space of the Avengers Tower holding a plate of cookies and feeling a little bit lame. Natasha and Clint were sitting at the kitchen island. There was a bottle of beer next to each of them. Natasha was laughing easily at some story of Clint’s. Before you could pick up the details of it yourself, you recognised his mime of a sudden explosion. 

‘And, that.’ Clint finished, raising his beer. ‘Is why you never trust a snowman.’

In wordless agreement, Natasha leaned forward and clinked her bottle with his.

Clint straightened up slightly as he noticed you approaching. Natasha followed his gaze, her head slowly turning to face you.

Fuck she was hot. You tried not to stare obviously. 

Natasha smiled at the sight of you. Her hair hung over her shoulder in the simple braid that had quickly become your favourite. She nodded in greeting and held up her half-drunk beer.

‘Want one?’ 

You felt your grip tighten on the plate of cookies.

‘That’s okay.’ You mumbled. ‘I just had some tea.’

Natasha smiled again. You realised as you approached, that she was sitting cross legged on her bar stool. You tried to imagine yourself even attempting that. 

‘How’s Bruce liking his redesigned rooms?’ Natasha asked.

‘Good. Good.’ You nodded a few too many times. You held out the cookies awkwardly. ‘He, uh, he wanted me to bring these up.’

Clint rubbed his hands at the sight of the plate. 

‘Excellent.’ He said as he began to pile a stack of cookies in the crook of his arm. 

You stared at him, decidedly unimpressed. 

‘For us to share.’ You clarified.. 

Clint rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated scan of the room.

‘Just us three here.’ He nodded down at the last two cookies remaining on the plate. ‘And there’s still some for you.’

He grabbed his beer bottle by the neck and nodded goodbye to you both. 

You exchanged a look with Natasha, expecting to share a stupid comment about Clint. 

Natasha’s expression took you off guard. 

‘Hi.’ She said softly. Her attention was careful, more focused than you’d ever felt it before.

‘Hi.’ You breathed out, suddenly aware that this was one of the very few times you’d ever been alone together.

Cautiously, you found the nearest bar-stool and hopped onto it. You reached for one of the final cookies at the same time as Natasha. Your fingers brushed hers and you tried to keep your face casual, even as your hand faltered. 

When you looked back to her, Natasha’s eyes seemed darker than you expected. There was something behind them that you didn’t understand.

‘So..’ She began in a meaningful tone.

‘Do you like video games?’ You blurted out, panickedly trying to remember Bruce’s advice. 

Natasha looked thrown for the briefest instant. Then her face smoothed into a relaxed one. 

‘I dunno.’ She shrugged with a smile, taking a bite of her cookie. ‘I’ve never played one.’

.

You found yourself a few minutes later, clumsily trying to remember how to set up the Nintendo Wii console that Tony had once purchased for the common area. Natasha sat on the sofa behind you, patiently waiting. You knew she was watching you intently. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up at the attention.

At last, as the game began to load, you turned around and gave her one of the plastic steering wheels. 

Natasha looked down at it with amusement. 

‘So, it’s really just a driving game?’ She checked, pretending playfully to steer it in the air. 

‘Exactly.’ You gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And don’t worry about remembering all the controls on your first go. It’s easiest to learn by playing it.’

Natasha kicked her feet up onto the scuffed coffee table and leaned back against the sofa cushions. 

‘Sounds good to me.’

A few minutes later, you stared dumbly at the screen. 

A Second Place sticker was stamped next to your Yoshi. 

Natasha’s Princess Peach celebrated her easy, dazzling, victory. 

‘That was fun.’ Natasha commented lightly. ‘Do you want to play again?’

You lost three more times in a row. Somehow, with every race, Natasha’s Princess Peach managed to get even faster. 

‘How. Are. You. Doing. That?’ You breathed out in a strangled voice when she won the race before you’d even started your final lap.

Natasha gave you a sparkling smile. ‘I think it gets easier the more you play.’ She said with an easy shrug.

‘Right.’ You muttered dryly, still looking disbelievingly at the screen. ‘Yeah that makes sense. I mean, I’ve only been playing for a couple years.’

‘Do you want to be Princess Peach?’ Natasha teased. ‘Maybe she’s good luck.’

You couldn’t help laughing loudly. 

‘Natasha.’ You said slowly, unable to do anything but smile when she looked at you like that. ‘I think you’re the good luck.’

Natasha breathed a laugh, her voice much lower than your own. 

‘Then maybe, one day, I’ll have to drive you some place.’

‘Uh huh.’ You said absentmindedly, trying to ready yourself as the next round of the game began.

.

A few days later and you were incredibly brave. Without the excuse of cookies, you asked Natasha if she wanted to try another game with you.

‘Okay.’ Natasha said, her smile a little careful. 

‘It’s called Just Dance.’ You told her. ‘I think you’ll have fun, it’s just dancing. The songs are cheesy and there’s a guide to follow. And, don’t worry, everybody is kinda bad at it.’

‘That’s a relief.’ Natasha grinned, slipping off her bar-stool and following you through to the TV with the Wii console. ‘I haven’t danced in years.’

As you stood together in the middle of the room, waiting for the game to load, Natasha turned to look at you. There was that look in her eyes that you didn’t recognise. An intensity that felt almost overwhelming. You watched Natasha hesitate to speak. You gave her an uncertain smile. You caught the way her breathing quickened and suddenly it clicked.

‘Don’t be nervous.’ You tried to reassure her. You reached out and touched Natasha’s arm gently. ‘If you want, I’ll go first and you can see it’s not that bad.’

Natasha swallowed and then her expression flickered into something much calmer. ‘Okay.’ She said quietly, moving to sit back down on the sofa. Her legs folded automatically underneath her. Her braid fell forward over her shoulder.

You swallowed an urge to tell her how beautiful she looked. Shoulders relaxed, curled like a cat in her grey sweats and black tank top. 

You turned back to the Just Dance loading screen and prepared to make a fool of yourself.

You earned yourself a decent score for Toxic and turned back to Natasha, grinning and panting slightly.

She gave you a tiny round of applause. 

‘You go.’ You encouraged her, touching her shoulder again as she stood. ‘It’s fun, I promise.’

Five minutes later, you heard the final notes of ‘Only Girl (In The World.) and wondered how it had happened again.

Natasha turned around, not a hair out of place.

‘That was fun.’ She smiled. 

You nodded. You hadn’t actually realised it was possible to only get Perfect scores for an entire song. 

‘And…’ You started hesitantly. ‘You haven’t danced before?’

Natasha tensed a little, before her voice turned decidedly calm. 

‘Well, I learned ballet in the Red Room.’

You looked up, recognising the moment of insecurity that wasn’t entirely yours to understand. You gave her a soft smile. 

‘I bet you were an excellent dancer.’ 

Natasha’s lips twitched upwards into an answering smile. 

‘Maybe.’ She started hesitantly. ‘Maybe, we could try dancing together, to some other kind of music.’

You nodded.

‘Definitely.’ You grinned. ‘I think Tony already has a copy of Just Dance 3. I bet I can get him to loan it to us.’

Natasha’s jaw tensed briefly and then it relaxed, silently she gave you a small nod. 

Something seemed off. Briefly, you worried that you’d suggested the wrong thing, that she might not want the others to know about her dancing around with you in the living room. 

‘Or maybe we can keep it just between ourselves.’ You hurried out, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. ‘I like that it’s just for us. Maybe I can find another game for us to play.’

Natasha stared at you slowly and then her smile widened into something that made your heart rate quicken. 

‘Any time.’ She promised, reaching out to brush your hand lightly with her own. ‘I’ll be there.’ 

.

The next day, you found Natasha again in the kitchen. The others were there and you watched as Bruce and Tony exchanged a meaningful look when you arrived with a laptop under your arm. 

Natasha gave you a knowing smile when she saw you. 

‘See you later.’ She called out to the others, her arm moving casually around your shoulders as you began to walk together towards the sofa. ‘We’ve got a play date.’

You groaned internally when you heard Tony wolfwhistle behind you.

Natasha sat close to you on the sofa as you opened your laptop and began to boot up the game. 

‘What are we playing today?’ She hummed curiously. Her voice was so close that it made you shiver. You wondered if your pulse was jumping out your neck. You could feel the warmth emanating from her.

‘It’s called the Sims.’ You whispered, voice suddenly a little hoarse. ‘It’s like a simulated reality. You can build pretend people and houses and play out their lives.’

‘That sounds-’ Natasha hesitated. ‘Do you fight in it? Is there combat?’

You gave her a funny look.

‘Not really. You just pretend whatever you want to happen.’ 

Suddenly, sitting this close to Natasha, you couldn’t help but notice her new ear-stud.You pointed shyly up to your own ear and then nodded back at her. 

‘It looks really cool.’ You told her softly, forgetting for a moment all about the game.’ 

Natasha looked briefly thrown by the compliment. She blinked slowly. 

‘Thank you.’ She said, giving you a hesitant smile back. You both looked shyly away from each other.

After a moment of awkward silence, her shoulder bumped yours playfully.

‘Maybe we could make a pretend me and you?’ She suggested teasingly looking back at the laptop screen. ‘And then we can play happy families.’

You grinned happily, moving the cursor to start the game.

‘Now you’re getting it.’

It took an hour for you both to design characters that you were happy with. 

There was something much more intimate about this game than the ones before. You were sitting unthinkingly close together on the sofa. Natasha’s soft voice humming different ideas to you as you designed the lookalike sims. 

Just before you started your next task - designing a house. You stood up and offered to get some drinks from the kitchen. 

You returned a few moments later, drinks in hand. You nearly dropped Natasha’s beer when you took a look at the screen.

‘I thought I’d try and get started on building something.’ Natasha said easily as she noticed you approaching. 

‘That’s -uh.’ You stuttered, handing her the beer without your eyes leaving the screen. ‘That’s the Tower.’

Natasha shrugged casually. ‘Only a couple of the floors. And the paintings aren’t an exact match, obviously.’

You placed your drink on the table and covered your face in your hands. You took a deep breath.

You felt Natasha’s hand brush unsurely along your curved spine.

‘Are you okay?’ She asked cautiously. 

‘How could you build that, without ever playing before?’ You whined more to yourself than to Natasha.

There was a hesitation, an awkward beat of silence.

‘I’m sorry.’ Natasha said in a very quiet voice. ‘I can delete it. I didn’t mean to ruin the game for you.’

You turned to look at Natasha. You touched her hand in automatic reassurance. You squeezed it carefully, wondering if you were imagining the slight shaking.

‘No, I’m sorry.’ You said, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. ‘God, I’m so stupid.’

‘No you’re not.’ Natasha countered firmly. ‘Please don’t say that.’

‘I am.’ You muttered more to yourself. ‘I don’t even want to play these games with you.’

You felt Natasha tense suddenly under your touch. Abruptly, she pulled away from you.

‘We don’t have to spend time together.’ She told you in a suddenly very level voice. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

You wondered how you could be so bad at saying something so simple. 

‘Natasha, all I want to do is spend time with you.’ You rushed out suddenly. 

Natasha’s lips parted slightly in shock. You watched her eyes skitter over your face as she read every facet of emotion there. You just kept speaking, unable to stop.

‘I just wanted to get to know you better. And I talked to Tony. And Bruce. Because it’s so hard, you’re so incredible and I didn’t even know where to start.’

Natasha swallowed, and for a moment her eyes looked so wide you worried that she was afraid. Then she blinked a few times in quick succession. You ploughed on with your clumsy explanation.

‘So, I, I needed a reason. To talk to you. And spend time together. And I thought video games, because I’m actually quite good at them. Well,’ 

You corrected yourself with a rueful smile. You started playing nervously with your fingers in your lap.

‘I’m average person good at them. And it turns out you’re gifted person good at them. At every game too. Which is kind of amazing actually. But it just means that there’s nothing about me that’s impressive. Not really, not like you.’

There was only silence when you finally managed to cut off your ramble. You took a deep breath, your heart in your mouth as you waited for Natasha to respond. 

You watched her swallow again before she spoke. 

‘You really like me?’ She asked, in a quiet, rasping voice that you’d never heard before.

You nodded fervently.

‘I’m not impressive.’ Natasha told you after a moment. ‘Not at all.’

Her eyes met yours, full of an unmistakable insecurity. She swallowed again. She folded her arms nervously across her chest. 

‘I’m good at driving, but I don’t have anywhere to go. And I learned how to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.’ Natasha cut herself off with a sad laugh. ‘And I don’t know how to have the life I want, even if I’ve learned how to pretend.’

You paused and let the heavy words sink in. You thought about the things you still didn’t understand. The things you might never get entirely.

‘Natasha.’ You said hopefully, reaching out hesitantly to rest your hand over hers. ‘Will you be my Princess Peach?’

You watched Natasha’s expression shutter with relief. Her smile was instinctive. She closed her eyes and gave you a hurried nod. She tilted forward, moving impulsively closer to you. 

Your lips found hers. The kiss was simple, warm and desperate. You felt Natasha’s light breaths against your skin. A sudden, sparking happiness made your chest tight.

Blindly, you closed your laptop and tossed it on the sofa behind you.

After a minute, you paused to look at each other. Natasha’s smile grew wider when she looked at your dazed expression. Gently, her hand cupped your cheek. You felt her thumb brush your skin with a reverence that you could only accept.

‘Maybe I did win.’ You whispered after a moment. 

Natasha laughed suddenly, tilting your chin so you were at the perfect angle. 

‘Shall we play a game?’ She intoned dramatically as she brought you back to her lips.

.

.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

.

[makeitmakesomesense]

Lessons in Networking

Angelina Jolie x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Day 12: I've merged a lovely request from a very lovely friend. Also the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 12th of January, which is 'thigh'.

The first time you saw her, she became embedded. 

You were a small part of a big movie. A well reviewed movie. A talked about movie.

You found yourself on a sudden award season treadmill. A thousand parties, a thousand opportunities to network. The string of scheduled get togethers that everyone referred to as ‘doing the circuit’.

You weren't made for this world. You were terrible at networking. And circuits made you think of racecars. 

You knew you wouldn’t be here again. You knew it was the movie that had brought you here, the unexpected artistry of the director. The project had been exceptional, not you.

You knew that you’d most likely only have a single lap of this ‘circuit’. 

You didn’t mind. You enjoyed savouring the ridiculous world you’d briefly entered into. Rooms full of ego, and name dropping and mind numbing small talk from people obviously scanning the room for someone better to talk to. 

You didn’t mind. Not at first.

It turned out that this was a very long circuit, very intense circuit. You were starting to feel exhausted.

.

You found yourself at another party. Another thinly veiled excuse for the most opportunistic to network and the largest egos to be catered to. 

It had started as a seated dinner thing. The food had been pretty good, even if you didn’t recognise what the dishes were supposed to be. You’d been at a secondary table for the movie you’d been a part of. Seated with people you’d made too much small talk with already. 

Everyone else had been excited to get up and mingle as soon as the meal was over. There’d been a steadily growing group of people congregating by the open bar. 

You stayed sitting. You sipped a glass of water and stared into the mid distance. The hum of so much talking was giving you a headache. You couldn’t decide if you were doing the right thing, just sitting here. If you should be forcing yourself to mingle, to make acquaintances and exchange numbers.

A producer gave you a friendly wave as she walked past, arm in arm with a famous actor that you recognised on sight. You could tell she didn’t really remember you. You’d noticed that a lot of people waved just in case. Better to be over friendly to the nobodies than be called impolite. You waved back, trapped by social convention. 

As they walked past, the producer glanced over to another table, then back to her actor friend. You caught the exchanged look of silent derision. 

You followed their gaze over to another almost empty table. Just like yours. 

Angelina Jolie sat alone.

She was taller than you expected, holding herself with unthinking excellent posture. She was sipping a glass of wine, a neutral expression barely covering her obvious discomfort. You glanced around the room, wondering who she was meant to be with. An A-lister alone at a party like this. It never happened. 

You tried to understand. 

You caught sight of a few people at the bar, looking in her direction with an obvious longing. But there was no-one who seemed to actually be going over to talk to her.  You chewed your lip.

You looked back at Angelina Jolie.  She was running her thumb absentmindedly over the crystal wine glass. Her silver dress glittered like it was made of starlight. She looked otherworldly.

You wondered if maybe she didn’t want the attention, if there was some unspoken rule to leave her alone. She was the one choosing to stay seated, after all. You tried to imagine what would happen if she joined the people at the bar, if she would be subsumed into the crowd?

You and her were the only two left still sitting at a table. 

You watched a short, awkward moment when her eyes filled with optimism as a person walked past and gave her a brief wave. You caught the strange, pained, neutral expression that returned to her face when they didn’t stop to talk.

Angelina Jolie.

You tapped the side of your glass. It felt reckless. Almost criminally reckless. It also felt obvious. You wouldn’t be at another party like this. There was only so much damage you could really do. 

You took a deep breath and got to your feet. You picked up your glass of water with a thundering heart and walked over to her table. 

Angelina’s face shuttered with momentary surprise. Her mouth moved automatically to a polite smile.

‘Hello.’ She said in a voice much softer than you expected. ‘I don’t think we’ve met?’

Briefly, you forgot how to process the English language. Her unfiltered attention was completely overwhelming. You felt a strange mix of self loathing and panic as you tried to recollect yourself.

‘No.’ You said finally, brain on auto-pilot. ‘I don’t think we have.’ 

Angelina gave you a look full of patience and you wondered mortifyingly if this happened often. You felt like the eyes of everyone in the room might now be trained on you. You didn’t dare look back to the bar. 

Angelina’s hand stretched out towards you.

‘I’m Angelina.’ She said with a friendly smile. ‘But a lot of people call me Angie.’

‘Y/N’ You shook her hand cautiously. Her skin was much cooler than you expected. Or maybe you were just feeling very warm. ‘Do you mind if I sit?’

‘Not at all. Please. Yes.’ Angelina gestured to the empty seat beside her. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder as she moved. 

There was something clumsy about her phrase and the accompanying gesture. You watched a flicker of self consciousness as she registered it too

‘Thank you.’ You gave a tentative smile as you took the seat. 

You felt the horrible threat of a lingering silence as you both hesitated. Then, you both tried to speak at once.

Angelina laughed suddenly. The melodic sound sent a jolt right through you. 

‘You go first.’ She nodded at you.

‘I was just saying. This is my first time at a party like this.’ You stammered out. ‘I don’t know if I like it.’

Angelina’s mouth stayed closed but her lips twitched into an amused smile. The spark in her eyes encouraged you to go on.

‘Everyone is so-’ You hesitated, suddenly aware that you were talking about a room full of her peers. Possibly her friends. Then you remembered that she was sitting here completely on her own. 

‘So-?’ Angelina prompted teasingly, elongating the sound.

‘So focused.’ You answered unsurely. ‘On careers and networks and really boring small talk.’

Angelina laughed again and then she shrugged in agreement. Her fingers tapped the side of her wine glass.

‘You only have to stay for the first 45 minutes.’ She told you. ‘That’s the secret. You can sneak out after that and people barely notice.’

You felt your eyes roll automatically. ‘Oh sure.’ You couldn’t help smirking as you took a sip of your water. ‘I’ll remember that for all my future tours of the circuit.’

Angelina nodded again, and you caught the playfulness in her gaze. She copied your action, taking a sip from her wine. 

‘The networking doesn’t really get easier.’ She said simply. ‘There’s just more to remember, more -’ She paused as her eyes flickered over to the crowded bar behind you. A heaviness returned to her expression.

‘More baggage.’ She finished carefully. 

Her eyes returned to you, the full force of her attention made you a little dizzy. 

‘Tell me about you?’ She asked with a simple curiosity. 

You did. 

A relatively succinct history of the life that had led you to here. Of your very limited resume and the reasons that you had enjoyed your last role. As you trailed off, Angelina smiled.

‘See.’ She said, clinking her glass lightly with yours. ‘You are good at networking.’

You pretended to check the time on your phone, balanced precariously on your thigh. 

‘Well that’s a relief.’ You grinned as you looked back up at her. ‘Because I’m scheduled to leave in 12 minutes.’

Angelina laughed loudly again, and for the first time since you’d first seen her across the room, she looked genuinely happy.

She clinked her glass with yours again. There was something almost goofy about her wide smile. You matched it automatically with one of your own.

‘What a coincidence.’ She teased dryly. ‘So am I.’

.

12 minutes later, you left a party alongside Angelina Jolie.

Her number was already in your phone, saved as 'Angie'.

.

You wondered if maybe you should give lessons in networking.

.

.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

.

[makeitmakesomesense]

Eyes Closed

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 11: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 11th of January, which is 'prom'.

Fluff and gentle smut contained below.

.

You were in bed. The darkness had crept into the room slowly, just like the silence. You turned on a light but it wasn’t enough for that kind of darkness. 

You thought about her. You tried not to worry.

.

‘I know, I know.’ Natasha called out as soon as she entered the room. Your mouth dropped as you stared in shock at her appearance. Blood stains coated her face and suit. You could barely see her skin beneath. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed with a nonplussed expression on her face. 

‘I feel like Carrie at the prom.’ She yawned as she unzipped her blood-soaked suit to her waist, revealing her toned stomach and sports bra. 

Natasha reached up to her hair then, ready to undo the end of her usual braid. She groaned as she remembered her more intricate hairstyle made up of several smaller braids.

‘Here, love.’ You slipped off the bed and walked to her. ‘Let me help.’

Natasha tilted forward, her head pressing tiredly against your shoulder as you worked to undo each braid. You tried not to hesitate as you worked around the hair matted with even more blood.

When you were done, you resisted the instinct to kiss her.

‘This might be your most disgusting post-mission look.’ You said wrinkling your nose at the pervasive smell of the dried blood. 

Natasha gave you a sarcastic thumbs up as she headed to the ensuite bathroom.

‘Guess you won’t be joining me.’ She commented dryly as the shower began to run. 

‘It’s so hard to say no.’ You grinned, grabbing your phone and keys and heading out of the room. ‘I’ll bring you back sustenance.’ You promised as you left. 

You returned soon enough, a peanut butter jelly sandwich in one hand. You’d cut the crusts off. Natasha didn’t actually care about the crusts. That wasn’t why you did it. 

You knocked the door as you entered. Natasha was lying on her stomach, sprawled out on the bed, wrapped in a fluffy white robe that she’d stolen a million years ago from a fancy hotel. It was tied loosely, already half off one shoulder. You could tell she was naked underneath. Her long red hair was damp, combed through and already curling at the ends. 

She turned at the sound of the door. Her attention immediately fell to the plate in your hands. 

She made a happy noise, muffled by her pillow as she rolled over onto her back. She shuffled to a seated position in the bed.

‘Give.’ She demanded teasingly as you held out the plate. 

Natasha noticed the missing crusts. Her delight was easy to see. She covered her face and gave a laugh. 

‘I’m special.’ She teased.

‘Yep.’ You agreed simply and sat down next to her, your arm automatically snaking around her waist. 

Natasha leaned against you like you were her support pole. She chewed slowly on the sandwich, her eyes closed with the first bite and she nodded happily to herself.

‘Good?’ You checked teasingly. 

Wordlessly, she gave you another thumbs up.

When the sandwich was done, Natasha fell backwards onto the bed. With great effort she moved back to her starfish position across the centre of it. 

You felt yourself finally approaching the moment. The time for acknowledging what she was obviously avoiding. 

The energy had been too light since she got back. It had been a bad mission. 

‘I’m so tired.’ Natasha mumbled finally against her pillow. 

You crawled over to lie beside her. You brushed her damp hair away from her face.

‘What kind of tired?’ You prompted gently. Natasha’s eyes screwed tight against your gaze.

‘A lot of people died.’ She murmured at last. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

She opened her eyes again and met you with a heavy stare. You recognised the swirling regret and thought inexplicably about ocean waves crashing over rocks.

‘I should’ve-’ Her voice cracked. 

The rush of love was overwhelming and you leaned forward with the sudden, aching, urgent want to kiss her.

Natasha clung to your lips needily, her fingertips brushed your jaw. 

Her lips were cracked and the sensation brought you back to yourself. You cupped her cheek gently as you slowly encouraged Natasha back to a sitting position. 

‘You’re thirsty.’ You hummed out as Natasha’s lips continued to brush yours over and over again. 

Natasha’s eyes briefly squeezed shut again and then she nodded. 

You left the bed to retrieve her water bottle on the other side of the room. Natasha unscrewed the top and wordlessly drank it all.

Your stomach twisted as you watched her.

It could be a symptom, sometimes, of the bad missions. Not giving herself what she needed. Punishing herself for things that weren’t her fault. 

Natasha put the empty water bottle back on the nightstand. She turned back to you with the same hidden sadness in her eyes. Still, she gave you a small smile. 

You reached forward again with a surge of the same want. You left a trail of the softest kisses along on her neck. You could smell the familiar mix of her body wash and that scent that was only Natasha. 

Natasha hummed with pleasure. You felt her body rise and fall as her breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths. You tugged the white robe gently away from her shoulder, and then again, until you’d removed it all the way.

Natasha acquiesced readily to the direction of your touch. There was a relief almost in the way she was naked next to you. As if the pretence could leave her. 

She arched her back dramatically and you watched the muscles move and stretch. Then, she returned her body easily to its most comfortable bad posture. 

Natasha looked at you again and, this time, her gaze was easier and her smile was warm. 

A longing caught itself in your throat. 

Hesitantly, you touched the old scar that sat between her shoulders. Evidence of another mission survived, another risk taken.

You pressed a little harder and Natasha moaned in response to the pressure on the fatigued muscle just beneath the skin.

You adjusted yourself back on the bed, propping yourself up on your knees. You kissed the base of her neck as your thumbs began to rub concentric circles over her shoulder blades. 

Natasha murmured your name. Her back arched again in pleasure. 

‘You are brave.’ You told her, consumed with the constant need to take away her pain. 

You kissed her again, trailing a path down the curve of her spine.

‘You are strong.’ You murmured, your mouth grazing past another nameless scar. 

You felt the rise and fall of Natasha’s chest against your lips. The steady proof of her existence; all you could hope for.

‘You are trying your best.’

Your thumbs brushed lightly over the large, fresh bruise that sat under Natasha’s ribcage. Natasha stiffened.

You ran your hands soothingly back up to her shoulders and then around to cup her soft breasts.

‘And, you are always, always forgiven.’ 

You felt Natasha’s limbs loosen unthinkingly with your words and then, slowly, you felt her muscles tighten again with a different want. 

Natasha murmured your name again. And then again. You listened to the longing soaked into her voice. 

You squeezed her breasts slowly before moving around to stand in the space in front of her seated position on the bed.

You reached over and took a pillow from the bed. You held it to the back of Natasha’s head and gave her a teasing smile as you pressed her gently in encouragement to lie back. 

Natasha’s fingers caught the front of your shirt automatically as she let her torso go flat against the mattress. 

Her feet were still touching the ground. You watched her hip bones cant upwards towards the air in this new position.

You lost yourself briefly in the act of just looking down at her. At the softness and sharpness that made Natasha's body the only one that you craved. 

Natasha’s eyes were half-shuttered as she watched you too. Her smile was easy but you caught the swirling of a thousand emotions that sat beneath her stare.

It was enough for you to drop to your knees.

You spread her legs slowly and slid between them. The steady warmth of her was your favourite heat. 

Another anchor that promised you she was here. 

You stretched out your arms, letting your fingernails brush back and forth along her toned stomach. You didn’t waste any more time. 

Slowly you ran your flat tongue along her pussy. There was the familiar tang of her body wash  and the taste that could only be Natasha. 

Natasha groaned above you. You felt her stomach muscles tighten under your fingers and knew that she was already close. 

You moved on instinct, your eyes closed as you lost yourself in the sounds of her hums and sighs. The heat of her against your tongue spread through you. You let your tongue arc and flatten, finding the rhythms that caused her breathless moans. 

You felt her tensing. Felt the pleasure inside her become a desperate need. You used your hands to keep a steady pressure against the urgent movement of her hips. 

Natasha gave a strangled cry and in the midst of it you heard your name. You pressed again and again with your tongue. You felt her body wind itself tighter and tighter and then undo itself all at once. 

You tasted the dripping want and heard the soft pants of something achieved. 

You gave one last lick along her pussy. 

‘Good?’ You murmured, as you moved back to survey Natasha. 

Natasha didn’t move or speak. Slowly, as if with great effort, she gave you a silent thumbs up. 

You breathed a laugh, kissed her one more time and got to your feet.

You headed to the bathroom, grabbing a flannel and running it under the warm water. You returned and gently washed between her legs. 

Natasha’s eyes were fully shut now. 

You leaned forward and Natasha moaned in automatic pleasure at the sudden heat of your body against her bare one. 

‘Bed, love.’ You whispered, pulling the covers back and coaxing her gently. 

Natasha acquiesced and you watched her crawl beneath the warm covers. 

You left and got yourself ready for bed too. 

Just as you were about to slide under the covers, you heard the first snuffling noises of Natasha pressing herself comfortably into her pillow. 

A moment later, you clicked off the light on your nightstand.

.

You turned to face her. Natasha’s face was framed by her own messy curls. You thought about her. About the sadness that you could always see unless her eyes were closed. You tried not to worry.

Natasha snored suddenly and the sound was another steady proof that she was here. You closed your eyes and finally slept. 

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

Starry Night

Natasha Romanoff x Jealous!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Day 10: I've merged a very fun request from a lovely anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 10th of January, which is 'religion'.

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Your linked hands swung absentmindedly in the space between you. 

Natasha’s head tilted as she observed the painting.

After a moment, you felt her attention inevitably turn back to you. You tried to focus on the brushstrokes, the colours, something. At least this one wasn’t about religion.

‘What do you think?’ She prompted.

‘I like the stars.’ You said carefully.

Natasha’s lip twitched. 

‘That’s good. Given it’s A Starry Night.’ She rasped dryly.

You nodded, pretending to keep staring at the painting. Natasha brought your hand to her lips and held it there for a moment. 

Your focus turned readily  to her. It was much more enjoyable anyway, watching her look at the paintings.

‘What do you think?’ 

Natasha glanced back at you. Her eyes crinkled with a more hesitant smile.

‘I love it.’ She admitted. 

You leaned forward and kissed her cheek, ignoring the bustling crowds of tourists around you.

You stayed together, lost in the tiny moment, until a short woman elbowed her way in front of you to take a photo of the painting. 

Natasha’s eyes were full of mirth as she pulled you back to the centre of the room. Her arms snaked around your waist as she stood behind you. 

‘What do you want to look at next?’ She asked softly, her head resting on your shoulder.

You chewed your lip and tried to decide. The paintings all looked the same to you. 

This trip was already perfect without the art. It had been Natasha’s idea. A tentative gift for your one year anniversary. A long weekend spent in Paris. 

It was strange to live, for even the briefest of moments, as if you weren’t part of the Avengers team. Your life had become something unrecognisable in the time that you’d been part of it.

Now, here in Paris, you’d never seen Natasha so relaxed, so completely herself. 

The very first evening, she’d disappeared out of the apartment almost as soon as you’d set your luggage down. She’d returned within minutes, holding all the components for a charcuterie board and a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine.

You’d wanted to unpack and get organised after the long flight but Natasha had insisted that you join her on the balcony. You’d sat together for hours, sharing food and drink and staring out at a nighttime view that didn’t seem real.

You’d understood the magic then. Slow kisses that heated the chilled night air. The sparkling lights of the city reflected back in Natasha’s eyes.

Nothing in any gallery could beat that. 

‘You choose.’ You told Natasha, leaning back in her arms as you surveyed the gallery room. ‘I always like your choices best anyway.’

Natasha hummed to herself, trying to decide. You let yourself focus only on her. The constant thrum of people wandering around the room created an almost overwhelming level of background noise. 

At last, Natasha nodded over to another painting, one with two women watching each other in bed. 

You smiled before you could help it, remembering that morning. 

‘Okay.’ You agreed. 

Suddenly, you felt Natasha stiffen behind you. Then, after a moment, you felt her purposefully relax. You were immediately on high alert. You scanned the room with a new intention, trying your best to identify any threat. 

Your attention caught immediately on a woman across the room. Her stare was entirely focused on your girlfriend. 

‘Is everything okay?’ You asked tensely, staring at the woman whose focus refused to flicker from Natasha’s face. 

Natasha moved easily from behind you to by your side. She looked distracted but her smile was reassuring.  

‘Yes.’ She promised. ‘I know her. Let me go say hello.’

You watched her walk away from you over to the strange woman. The beautiful Parisian woman. The upsettingly beautiful Parisian woman. 

You watched Natasha kiss her cheeks and hug her. You watched their obvious delight at reconnecting. You watched the disgustingly beautiful Parisian woman reach up to touch a piece of Natasha’s hair, you watched her mouth form a comment about its new length and colour. You watched Natasha smile shyly. 

You felt small and then you felt angry. You felt an instinct lock your body in place.

It took a minute for Natasha to look over to you. She took a few steps back in your direction, not quite closing the distance. 

‘There’s this wine.’ She started, clearly excited. ‘I’ve been looking for it all weekend. Elodie knows this place that sells it. It’s right around the corner’

You kept your expression neutral. You hated that Elodie was obviously looking over at you. 

‘Do you mind if we-?’ Natasha trailed off, gesturing between herself and the woman who you were going to make a voodoo doll of later. 

You nodded, throat tight. 

Natasha kissed your cheek.

‘Stay, enjoy the art. I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone.’ She promised, an excited glint in her eye. 

You watched Natasha’s hand brush Elodie’s back as they walked out together. 

When you were finally alone in a sea of strangers, you let the feelings wash over you in quick succession. 

Jealousy. Hurt. Anger. 

Your fingernails dug into your palm as the feelings simmered. 

Who the fuck was Elodie?

You walked blindly past the remaining masterpieces and headed for the exit.

Natasha caught a hold of you in the foyer. She looked startled to see you there. 

She nodded back to the endless gallery rooms and gave you a curious smile. 

‘Have you seen it all already?’ She teased lightly.

‘Mmhm’ You hummed tightly. ‘Let’s go back to the apartment.’

Your sharp tone set off the first alarm bells. You watched the realisation dawn on Natasha’s face, the slight widening of her eyes. 

You didn’t give her a chance to speak. You walked out the building and headed towards your apartment. 

Natasha kept pace at your side. You could feel her nervous glances towards you. Her hesitating indecision to say something. 

Something about your stony expression kept her quiet.

By the time you’d reached the apartment, after climbing the endless winding staircase inside the building’s courtyard, the unspoken tension was almost at a boiling point. 

Natasha’s tote bag clinked occasionally as her new purchase bumped against her keys. Your jaw tightened every time you heard it.

You opened the door and walked straight to the kitchenette. Natasha followed cautiously behind you.

It occurred to you then that you’d never had a proper fight before. Never had a reason to be really angry. More than a year had gone by in relative peace. 

Until Elodie. 

You opened the fridge door violently and pulled out the ingredients for lunch automatically. 

You could feel Natasha hovering in your blind spot. 

You hooked a dining chair with your foot and pulled it out from the table.

‘Sit.’ You directed tightly. ‘I’ll make us some lunch.’

Natasha sat with the obedience of a hostage victim. 

You arranged the jars of beurre de cacahuètes and confiture next to the wooden chopping board and placed the bread that Natasha had bought fresh that morning on top of it. You yanked open the cutlery drawer and retrieved the large bread knife.

You felt Natasha wince behind you. You ignored her as you started sawing at the bread.

‘So.’ You said loudly. ‘How do you know Elodie?’

Natasha’s hesitation this time was blatant.

‘Uh.’ You heard her stall for time. You sawed quickly through your first slice and tossed it onto the waiting plate. ‘From a long time ago.’

‘Mmhm.’ You hummed again, eyes trained on the moving knife. ‘And you knew each other well.’

You didn’t frame it as a question but Natasha answered anyway.

‘...Yes.’

‘Very well.’ You said under your breath, tossing another brutalised slice of bread onto the plate. 

‘...Yes.’ Natasha said with obvious alarm as you began to hack at the loaf again. 

‘Lucky Elodie.’ You muttered bitterly. ‘I bet you’ve got wonderful memories of Paris together. Did you drink that wine on a balcony with her? What sort of name is Elodie anyway? I mean that’s practically too French. I mean come on. It’s like a Russian girl being called-’

‘Natasha.’ Natasha supplied.

You kept moving your knife thoughtlessly. 

‘Exactly. Whatever.’ You cut yourself off into abrupt silence as you stewed internally on things you really shouldn’t say aloud.

‘Y/N.’ Natasha called out carefully.

‘What?’ You snapped.

‘Love. You’re sawing the chopping board in half.’ You froze and stared down at the small pile of sawdust mixing with the breadcrumbs. You yanked the knife abruptly out of the wooden board and placed it down on top of it. You stared for a long moment at the counter. You couldn’t escape the truth of it. The fear that ached behind everything.

‘Did you take her to see those paintings before?’ You asked at last in a small voice. ‘Before me?’

‘Love.’ Natasha said quietly again in a low voice that always made your insides go warm. You heard her move closer and felt her arms wrap around you, tentatively. You let your back press against her.

‘Before you.’ She murmured slowly, and you felt each word vibrate through you. ‘I know it’s not that simple. But before you nothing really mattered.’

Her lips touched your neck and you let your eyes close. You thought about her and you. About the 400 nights you’d spent together. About the sleepy mornings and the date nights and the future plans. 

You thought about the painting you’d seen of the two women watching each other in bed.

‘Before you.’ Natasha whispered again. ‘There was art and good food and fancy wine.’ Natasha’s hand trailed lightly down your front and the back up. Your head tilted back and Natasha dragged her finger along your exposed neck. 

You thought about the starry night reflected back to you in Natasha’s eyes. 

Your body shuddered as Natasha’s fingernails tapped gently over your trachea.

All you could hear were her soft breaths and your shallow ones.  ‘Before you. I wasn’t me.’

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

A Long Time Coming

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: This is from a heinous prompt from a heinous friend. It is silliness and then it is smut. It also uses a lovely prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 9th of January, which is 'jokes'.

Sometimes, when you were caught in a moment alone with Natasha, there was this spark.

Her tongue touching her teeth when she smiled her brightest. Her shoulder bumping yours in elevators. Her dry jokes as you made it through the hardest days.

There were other times too. Crumpled in the kitchen when the darkness got too much. Your hand at the small of her back. Her chin resting on your own shoulder as you gazed out at a world that would never be the same. 

There was a spark. If you were honest, there were embers now. A gentle flickering in your lower stomach. A heat that burned gently.

A wanting. 

It wasn’t on the table, not for either of you. Maybe five years ago, maybe before everything had fallen apart. Now your lives were about solving the world’s problems not your own.

Natasha was the bravest person in the world. She was efficient too. You’d barely wrapped your head around the possibility of time travel before Natasha had organised the task force to achieve it. 

She was the bravest person in the world. That’s why no-one blinked when she volunteered first to save it. 

She dressed in the futuristic white suit and stood in the designated place. She glanced at the others and then at you. Her tongue touched her teeth when she smiled wide, she gave you a thumbs up. 

The complex machinery, that filled the room, hummed and sputtered.

And, then, Natasha disappeared. 

The fallout took its time to be alarming. 

The lights in the room flickered uncertainly for a few moments. You waited, trying not to think about Natasha being so far away, so out of time. You waited for Dr. Banner to press the button that would bring her back. 

He pressed it at last. And then you watched his brow crease in confusion. He pressed it again. And again.

You started hyperventilating when it became clear. 

So far away. So out of time. 

Natasha was smaller than people realised. More fragile too. 

Dr. Banner and Steve Rogers debated the technicalities of the situation for over an hour.

You paced the room, caught up with a need to search the world for someone you wouldn’t find.

Eventually, you heard them coming to a conclusion. It was her suit. The wires that crossed at the front of the chest, there must have been a fault. 

You weren’t as brave as Natasha, you weren’t as efficient either. Still, you did your best. It took another hour for you to be suited up and ready for the hopefully simple mission. They were careful not to change any setting on the machine. 

Theoretically Natasha had been sent back a decade to New York City. Theoretically that’s where you should be going too. 

You were given a quick tutorial on removing the chest-plate from the suit and resetting the wires. If everything went to plan, it would be a simple rescue. 

You didn’t bother pretending that it might be. 

You stood in the centre of the room and listened to the machine begin to whir and hum. You closed your eyes and opened them somewhere new.

Green.

Your first and only thought as the colour overwhelmed you.

So much green.

Foliage like you’d never seen before. A sea of large fern plants that towered above you.

Definitely not New York City. You spun in a circle as you tried to assess your location. Maybe the rainforest? But surely the rainforest would have more rain and more forest?

Your eyes quickly scanned the landscape, a view of rolling hills that were covered in the strange vegetation that you could not place. 

You heard a sudden noise to your left and startled. 

Natasha Romanoff was barreling towards you. Dirt spattered her face. Her eyes were wide with uncharacteristic panic. Her bare arms were littered with scratches.

You blinked.

Her bare arms.

She wasn’t wearing her suit. She was barely wearing anything. Your throat tightened as you registered her sports bra and shorts. You didn’t have time to think before Natasha’s hands were gripping your arms. 

Her heavy panting filled your ears as she leaned in.

‘Run.’ She said. ‘We have to run.’

You didn’t hesitate. Natasha’s grip on your hand was iron tight as she dragged you lithely through the undergrowth. You did everything you could to keep up and not fall over.

After a few minutes, Natasha finally slowed her pace. Her head swivelled around, ascertaining the safety of your new location.

Abruptly, she exhaled in relief. Then, she turned back to you and wrapped you in the tightest hug.

‘I’m so glad to see you.’ She muttered breathlessly against your shoulder. 

You hugged her back, half relieved and half panicked.

‘Natasha.’ You started unsurely. ‘Where the hell are we? When are we?’

Natasha pulled back and held your face between her hands. You stared into her eyes, realising suddenly that her pupils were extremely dilated. 

‘I don’t know how to tell you this.’ She said thoughtfully.

You braced your shoulders. 

‘Just tell me. Get it over with.’

Natasha took your head and swivelled in 90 degrees. You stared in the direction she'd pointed you towards. You scanned the horizon and tried to understand what you were missing. Your heart leapt in horrible realisation. A giant tree, relatively far away. The tree seemed to be eating its own leaves. You blinked and tried to make sense of it. The tree moved slowly forwards.

Dinosaur. 

Your mouth fell open in an ‘O’ shape.

You glanced back at Natasha. She was staring at your open mouth and wearing an expression you'd never seen before. You closed your mouth self consciously.

‘Oh my God.’ You choked out. ‘Oh my God.’

Natasha’s fingers dug slightly into your scalp. 

‘I know.’ She breathed, her stare still intent on your lips. You stared at her in confusion. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow.

‘Natasha.’ You tried, wondering what kind of trauma could have occurred to make her this distracted. Her gaze glanced back to you. She chewed her lower lip and gave you a small smile. 

‘Yeah?’

‘Where’s your suit?’ You asked slowly, feeling increasingly alarmed.

Natasha released your face as she waved her hand thoughtlessly in the air. Her cheeks were still flushed, even though you'd been standing still for several minutes.

‘Back where I landed.’ 

She gestured vaguely to her right. 

‘Just next to the swamp.’ She paused with obvious disorientation then recollected her train of thought. She frowned. ‘It got all sticky.’

‘The suit?’ You checked, keeping your questions as simple as possible. ‘It got sticky from the swamp?’

Natasha shook her head. ‘No. It got sticky from this huge plant.’ Her hands echoed her words with a large gesture into the air.

‘Can you take me there?’ You prompted gently, holding her hand carefully in yours. 

Natasha’s stare focused intensely on your joined hands. You squeezed her hand and asked the question again. Natasha’s eyes dragged themselves slowly up your body to meet your stare.

‘Yes.’ She said breathlessly, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. ‘But it makes me crazy.’

‘What does?’

‘The sticky stuff.’ She swallowed dryly. ‘That’s why I took it off.’

‘Crazy, like dizzy?’ 

Natasha nodded, a sudden look of panic in her eyes. ‘Yes.’ She lied badly. ‘Kind of.’

‘Kind of.’ You prompted gently, giving her hand another squeeze.

Natasha’s eyes darted wildly from your hands to your face, to your…chest.

‘Horny.’ She said breathlessly. ‘Kind of horny.’

Your mouth dropped into an ‘O’ again, and Natasha crossed her legs uncomfortably. She closed her eyes and took an unsteady breath. You promptly shut your mouth. 

‘That must be… distracting.’ 

Natasha nodded slowly, and her eyes reopened with an obvious kind of longing in them. 

You resolved to be decisive. To be professional. This was a mission. You tried to ignore the low burning heat that already lived in your stomach. 

‘Well, we need you in the suit to get home.’ You told her seriously. ‘So let’s find it as fast as possible, and try to limit our exposure to whatever that sticky stuff is.’

Natasha nodded again, lips pressed tightly together. Her jaw ticked as her eyes wandered distractedly over your body again. 

There was a concerningly loud crash in the distance. 

‘Oh.’ Natasha murmured absentmindedly. ‘That’ll be the dinosaurs.’

Her free hand moved to your waist and you felt her nails dig into the firm fabric of the suit. Trying to tug you closer her.

You shook your head wordlessly and started leading her in the direction of the swamp and her missing suit.

Natasha walked obediently just behind you. You turned occasionally to check if you were still heading in the right direction. Every time she nodded, her stare never wavering from your ass. 

You forced yourself to keep walking. You had to be the professional. 

You noticed the foliage around you darken slightly, a sign of the nearby water source. You tried to keep your focus on the mission. On the very obvious and very real danger that you found yourself in. 

You paused to determine your next path. Natasha's hands covered your ass and you pretended not to feel the light squeeze.

As you got closer to the swamp, Natasha started walking faster so she could be next to you. Her arm snaked around your waist again. You could feel the warmth radiating out from her. You could see it in her flushed cheeks. Every time you looked over at her, Natasha flushed harder.

Sometimes, you felt her hand wander downwards along your body. Carefully, you moved it back to your waist.

Eventually you came to a clearing. There were obvious signs that someone had been here before. Natasha’s eyes widened in recognition.  After a moment, she pointed to the far corner of the clearing. There, you saw the previously-white suit discarded on top of a small boulder. 

You swallowed nervously. 

‘The suit needs a repair.’ You told Natasha shortly, her arm still eagerly around you. ‘I’m going to fix it before you put it on.’ 

You tried to let go of Natasha as you walked over to the suit. But she clung determinedly on. You didn’t bother fighting it, aware now that the best thing to do was get you both home as fast as possible.

When you reached the suit, you saw it was indeed coated in a sticky golden substance. You crouched down and grabbed a nearby twig, using  it to scrape away most of the viscous liquid.

Then, you kept your focus steady, barely letting yourself breathe as you popped out the covering and repeated the repair instructions you’d been given by Dr. Banner. You tried not to worry about the stickiness that brushed against your fingertips.

You were putting the panel covering back onto the suit when it started. 

An itching sensation across your body. An itching that soon became something else. A burning. Like a thousand sparks against your skin. Fireworks. You were burning. Wanting.

You were wanting. 

Her.

You felt yourself shuddering. A sudden dryness in your throat as you tried to swallow. A sudden desperation. A cluttered mind.

‘Oh no.’ Natasha mumbled somewhere above you. 'Are you okay?'

You started panting. You couldn't remember words. All you could do was tug at her hand. The wanting was blinding. 

Natasha crouched next to you. Your heart started pounding immediately.

You could feel the sparking electricity from her proximity. As if she was lightning and you were the perfect conductor.

‘Natasha.’ You murmured at last. You heard the obvious neediness in your voice. The wanting. 

Natasha smiled widely as she took you in. 

‘Oh, good.’ She half-moaned as she moved closer, filling up your vision and your world. You felt her hands tangling forcefully in your hair. You toppled backwards against the forest floor. 

Somewhere deep down in the back of your mind, you wondered what kind of insects lived in the mud next to a Jurassic swamp. 

Then, Natasha’s tongue ran along your neck and you forgot your own name. Her lips were on you eagerly. Her mouth was kissing and biting as she made her way to your mouth.

Natasha straddled your waist as her tongue entered your mouth. The kiss was long and slow. Then she pulled back, her arms reached over her head as she removed her sports bra hurriedly. You could feel her hips moving, as she tried to press herself against your body.

Automatically, your hand found its way between her legs.

Natasha groaned loudly as she enjoyed the immediate friction of your palm. She leaned forward, her arms resting on either side of you.

Your vision filled now with her breasts. They were bouncing as she moved. A heavy softness that made you tilt forward. Your tongue found her nipple, swirling eagerly over the sensitive area. 

You felt the wetness through the fabric of her shorts. Your hand slipped under the material. She was soaking wet, coating your palm immediately.

You understood suddenly. Why she loathed her suit. Why she'd ripped it off. You felt your own hips buck desperately, hopelessly. You paused, trying to remember the way to take off the complicated garment.

Natasha’s hand tugged forcefully at your hair. Your attention flew back to her.

Her eyes shuttered closed with the nearness of her orgasm. Her hips bucked desperately against your bare hand.

‘No.’ She moaned selfishly, biting down hard on her lower lip as she continued to rock. ‘You can come later. Let me finish first.’

You obliged easily. Her breasts pressed themselves closer again and your attention returned to them. You kissed and licked and sucked. The heel of your hand pressed against her clit over and over. Your fingers moved inside her with the rocking of her hips.

Natasha cried out loudly when she came at last. Her eyes were squeezed themselves even more tightly shut.

You startled at the sudden sound, as reality crept briefly back. Then you laughed. 

‘I thought that was a T-Rex.’ You told her stupidly. 

Natasha smiled happily down at you. Her tongue touched her teeth. Her once braided hair was completely wild. Her breathing was shallow. Her body relaxed. 

Her eyes were no longer dilated. 

‘Mmm.’ She hummed in pleased thought, her hand trailing down your suit. ‘We should go somewhere with a bed. So we can do that again.’

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Natasha was no longer the bravest person in the world. 

You were.

You waited 97 million years for an orgasm.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

The Competition

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Day 8: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 8th of January, which is 'daylight'.

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There is no point trying to be second best. 

You’ve lived by that motto your whole life. You know it’s served you well because your life has been going exactly like you hoped. You’ve been recruited into the latest Shield training class. 

This is just another opportunity for you to excel in. You don’t let yourself consider another option. You stand in the training room with the other agents, waiting for your first lesson to start. You can’t help sizing up the others. You watch their movements and try to assess their fitness, their likely agility. You listen to their conversations and try to assess their intelligence too. 

You are smarter. You are fitter. You are faster. You stretch your arms in anticipation. Someone will be the best recruit and it will be you. 

A final trainee enters. 

You try to figure her out immediately. Her eyes are roaming the room, not quite nervous but not confident either. She’s not that tall. Her red hair is tied back in perfect dutch braids. It makes her look like a child.

You dismiss her readily. Your focus returns to another recruit, whose muscles are flexing obviously with the smallest movement. You bite your lip trying to determine if their muscle density will affect their agility. 

Your eyes glance briefly back to the new girl. She is staring at the same recruit. Her fingers tap thoughtfully against her thigh. 

She is the only one other than you not engaging in small talk. Instead, her gaze scans the sea of people, just like you.

You take another more considered look at her. She’s fit, much more than you’d noticed at first. The kind of fitness that’s built for agility as much as strength. 

Her eyes turn to you. The sudden, sharp green stare makes you certain that she’s intelligent too. You can feel her reading you, as her eyes shamelessly roam over your body.

After a moment, the girl’s lips draw back over her teeth and she smiles. There’s a feral confidence to it. It puts you on edge. You smirk back and pretend not to be intimidated.

The trainer enters at last and the group of recruits become eager and pathetic in front of a clear leader. You hang back, listening quietly. You make sure to keep the other girl in your sights. 

The trainer asks you all to introduce yourselves. 

‘First names for now.’ She directs with a smile. ‘We’re not agents yet.’

The girl is called Natasha R. 

There are two Natashas in this group of recruits. You almost feel bad for Natasha M. You can already predict that she will be known as ‘the other Natasha’ after today.

The trainer begins with a speech about comradery, about finding your people. You watch Natasha’s expression shift to boredom. She taps impatiently against her thigh. You try not to smirk obviously. 

The trainer suggests that everyone partners up. You’ve all had basic sparring training before today. This is a chance to see how you compare to your peers. 

Your eyes meet Natasha’s before the trainer has finished speaking. She flashes the feral smile back at you. Adrenaline begins to flood your body as you move to the nearest training mat and try to ready yourself.

Natasha slams you against the mat before you’ve had time to think about reacting. The air is thrown from your chest. You try not to look as disoriented as you feel, as you roll back to your feet. 

‘Excellent work, Natasha’ The trainer shouts from the other side of the room. You watch Natasha M. look up hopefully, before her face caves with disappointment. You let yourself prickle with the indignity of being second best. 

You huff a breath and ready yourself for another sparring round. You are back on the floor before you’ve had a chance to blink.

.

Natasha slams you against the training mat for the thousandth time. 

You glare at her, chest heaving desperately. Your face is sticky with heat and sweat. Natasha grins smugly. Her dutch braids are still perfect. She doesn’t offer you a hand up.

You hate her. You actually loathe her. 

You are seething with bitter fury by the time you get to the cafeteria. You stand in the line for lunch food thinking about the first person to ever stand between you and being the best at something. You try to recall each brief moment before she knocked you to the ground. You try to assess her fighting style. What you could have done differently. 

You lift your plastic tray and walk to the communal table that is almost entirely populated by the other recruits from your class. You sit at one end and take an angry bite of your apple.

Natasha is sitting at the other end. She’s surrounded by the eager recruits. They’re asking her questions, unphased by her cool tone and indirect answers. It’s pathetic. You crunch your apple again. They always cling to a new leader. Natasha’s calm gaze meets yours. She smirks and you know she can tell that you’re jealous. You clench your jaw and glare angrily back. You hope she can hear the Fuck You echoing in your mind. 

The amusement in her eyes tells you that she can. 

.

You spend a month getting your ass kicked. 

That isn’t strictly true. 

You are excelling in some areas.

Noone is more loyal to the fitness regime. Noone is more committed to learning how to fight better. Noone is putting more time in at weapons practice. 

You are doing very well at trying hard.

Natasha is barely trying and she is easily better than you. She makes the class look like complete amateurs.

You do the only thing you know how to do; you try harder. 

What stings more than the rest, is the special treatment that Natasha seems to get. 

The first time you see her and Hawkeye interact, you don’t actually believe your own eyes. She’s a new recruit. Agent Barton is calling her ‘Tasha!’ and giving her a half hug as he walks past your table with his own tray of food. 

Natasha M. looks so despondent when she hears the nickname that you wonder if she’s going to drop out soon.

Natasha only rolls her eyes and makes a biting comment about his choice of lunchtime food. The other recruits tense up for a moment until Agent Barton’s barking laugh catches them all off guard again. 

You watch Natasha from your usual place at the far end of the table. It is the first time you have ever seen her uncertain. 

You decide she is probably dating Agent Barton. It must be a secret they’re trying to keep. He’s not a direct superior so there’s nothing officially wrong with it. It just doesn’t look good. Not for a new recruit. 

Natasha tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes glance back over to Agent Barton’s table on the other side of the room. 

You pretend you don’t feel jealous.

.

In the earliest hours of the morning, you go to the gym. 

You do this sometimes, it’s a good time to know you’ll be alone. To put in some earphones and forget everything except your heart pounding and your limbs aching. 

You are not alone. 

Natasha is already in the large room. She’s wearing a black sports bra and shorts. She is running like a gazelle on a treadmill, her back is to you.

You let the heavy door slam itself shut, just to watch her flinch. 

She switches the machine off as she turns around, her glare already fixed in place. 

Your chest seizes when you realise that she has obviously been crying. You stare at her stupidly. 

‘What do you want?’ Natasha spits through clenched teeth. Her cheeks are flushed red. You can’t tell if it’s the exertion or something else. 

You feel like you’ve caught an apex predator in a moment of weakness. You can tell she feels cornered, vulnerable. The urge to win tempers into something different. You don’t want to see Natasha’s weakness, you just want to be better than her best. 

‘I bet I can run faster than you.’ You gloat loudly and begin to walk towards her. 

Natasha’s expression shutters with sharp relief, then she gives you her most savage smile. She nods to the treadmill beside her.

You have never run faster or farther. You will not let yourself lose this race. You have been training too hard. By the time the first rays of daylight are streaming into the room, you are still neck and neck with Natasha. 

She is the first to quit. She switches off her machine without a word and turns to leave. She gives you the middle finger as you breathlessly huff a victorious laugh.

.

That day, on the training mats, you sense Natasha moving more obviously as you begin to spar. She wins every time, of course. But later, when you stand in the line for the cafeteria, you realise that you have begun to understand her fighting technique. 

They have run out of apples today in the cafeteria and you barely notice, too lost in your own thoughts.

You sit down at your usual end of the table. Your gaze snaps up when someone whistles. 

Natasha’s smirk is tiny. Everything about her seems playful. She takes an extra apple from her tray and throws it gracefully. You feel the eyes of the other recruits follow its arcing trajectory, right into your hands.

After weapons training that afternoon, Natasha catches your arm in the hallway. 

‘Do you spend every night running your ass off, just to keep up with me?’ She teases snarkily.

You roll your eyes, hating the way you have started to like her. 

‘No. Not every night.’ You answer deadpan.

‘Good, so you’ll be free tonight.’ Natasha says simply. She tells you the number of her room. Then, she gives you a pleased smile. With her perfect braids, she becomes the picture of innocence. 

‘Those braids make you look like a child.’ You snap at her, pulling your arm out of her hold. 

You hear her laugh behind you and smile to yourself. 

.

You arrive at her door that night. You knock twice before the door swings open. 

Natasha is not the girl you have known before. 

Her loose red hair holds the obvious kinks from her recent braids. She looks tired, the simple fatigue of surviving a busy day on very little sleep. She’s wearing an oversized tourist t-shirt that you presume is covering shorts. 

‘Wow.’ You tell her bitingly. ‘You look like shit.’

Natasha laughs loudly and lets you in. 

She offers you a beer and you take it as you sit on the edge of her bed. She sits beside you, clinks her bottle with yours and takes an absentminded swig. You marvel silently as you realise that she is still drinking alcohol regularly and outperforming all of you so easily. 

Her shoulder bumps yours uncaringly as she brings one leg up to her chest and casually hugs her knee. Your eyes skim the perfectly toned muscles without meaning to. Natasha’s gaze flicks to you and she smirks knowingly.

‘Keep it together.’ She chastises teasingly. You grin back. 

‘I will.’ You promise readily. ‘I’m here to find out all your secrets.’

Natasha’s mouth presses together and for a moment she looks deadly serious. Then she raises her eyebrow and grins back. 

‘What do you want to know?’

She tells you a lot of things. Raised in a competitive household, with no allowance for failure. She talks about sisters, plural. She’d always naturally excelled but she also never stopped pushing herself. Her words skim lightly over concepts like discipline and punishment. You understand the implication.

You don’t feel pity, only respect. She did everything to be the best. 

You tell her the words that you’ve lived by since childhood.

There is no point trying to be second best. 

Natasha’s sudden gaze burns with the recognition that you might really understand what she means.

‘Exactly.’ She breathes, and then she laughs again. She looks down and her fingers brush over your forever-calloused knuckles. 

‘Exactly.’ She whispers again. 

.

After that, the world is hung on a different axis. 

You are the final convert to the Natasha fan club. You think you might be the only member she cares about. The competitive edge is always there between you, but now it’s decidedly friendly. Every smile between you is playful. Every sharp comment is teasing. 

You go back to her room again a few nights later. 

She tells you a little about Clint, nothing more than a friend of a friend who’d recommended her to the Shield training programme. But mainly, she asks a lot about you. You find yourself admitting things you’ve never said aloud before.

When the night ends, she leans forward and kisses your cheek. She plays it like it’s a natural end to the night and you don’t let yourself react. Not until you’re back in your own room, touching your warm cheek and wondering if it could mean the things you have begun to hope for.

.

There is an inevitable rule about trying to keep a secret in an espionage organization. Either no-one knows or everyone does.

Natasha M is the one who tells you. She has that red flush on her cheeks that reveals how pleased she is with her secret. She whispers it excitedly to a group of you as you make your way to the training room.

‘Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. Mysterious and Lethal Assassin. Product of the Red Room. Missing, Presumed Dead.’

She pauses as she hammers home her point. 

‘It’s her.’

Your world implodes.

You stand in the training room with the rest of the recruits. Your skin is prickling with a feeling that you don’t recognise. A betrayal unlike anything you could have imagined. The others are nervous and chattering. You can feel them looking in anticipation at you. Natasha’s undeniable favourite. 

Some of them clearly thought you might have known her secret. They don’t anymore.

Natasha walks into the training room. She is flanked on her left by Agent Barton.

You realise that he is not an old friend. He is the agent that captured her. 

You feel a sudden rage like you have never felt before.

You pull away from the crowd, ready for a fight that you know you can’t win. 

You start spitting insults before you reach her. You call her a traitor and a liar. You only feel angrier when you watch her purposefully neutral gaze brush over you.  

You rush forward and are stopped by Agent Barton’s arm as it catches you by the waist and pulls you resolutely towards the door.

‘Don’t do this.’ He warns quietly as you shout things you never thought you’d say. ‘We’re her family.’

‘Oh please.’ You yell back, hurling your final words at Natasha, as you fight his grip. ‘She has a family. She’s a widow.’

.

You are excused from training. Agent Barton leaves you in disgust, sitting in an empty classroom where they occasionally teach the theory behind different fighting styles.

.

You go to the cafeteria at the usual time and take your usual tray over to your usual group. They welcome you with a support that you’ve never felt before. You realise suddenly that your enraged episode earlier has only impressed the other recruits.

You don’t need to guess who is missing from the table, you follow their pointed glares easily. Natasha sits alone at another table. Her face is perfectly neutral. She crunches on an apple. Your jaw tightens.

You take a seat with the usual group and try not to think about the way your gut is twisting. The other recruits tell you all the latest rumours. About what the Red Room does to create their monsters. The famous crimes against Shield operatives committed by the Black Widow. A haphazard list of her likely kills that is growing by the hour. 

You think about their stories. You think about the things Natasha told you that first night in her room. Competition, discipline, punishment. 

Agent Barton’s words about family get caught in your head. 

Natasha stands and leaves the cafeteria. She doesn’t falter at the muttered insults that she must be able to hear. Her face is schooled into a perfect facade of calm. At last, her eyes meet yours, and you see the smallest crack.

You push away the tray with your half-eaten meal. 

A person beside you snickers and you catch the end of a snide comment. You grip the edge of the plastic tray and feel a familiar anger inside you. You look around the table. Natasha M smiles eagerly back. She leans forward with another joke to share. 

You push away from the table and get to your feet. They are eager and they are pathetic. You don’t want to be their next  leader.  

.

You knock once on Natasha’s door. She doesn’t open it. 

You knock again. There is only silence.

You go to the gym.

She’s there, of course, running so fast that her legs are blurred. You wonder if they’ve checked her speed against the land mammal record.

You let the heavy door slam behind you, just so she’ll know you’re there.

Natasha turns off the treadmill and comes to a stop. She doesn’t turn around. You can tell that she knows it’s you. 

You walk over and watch the tension rolling out of her. She is gripping the bar on the treadmill. You look at her knuckles, calloused from a lifetime of effort. 

You are just like her. 

Her shoulders curve as she leans forward, crying silently. 

Your jaw tightens. 

You hate seeing Natasha’s weakness. You cannot tolerate a world where she is not the best. 

Carefully, you reach out and press your hand to her back. You can feel the bumps of her spine against your palm. Her chest heaves with silent sobs. 

Wordlessly, Natasha turns around. She buries herself against your front. You hug her tightly. You can feel her crying harder. Unthinkingly, your fingers trace her perfect braids.

You lead her back to her room when she is no longer crying. Your tight hold of her hand leaves no room for misunderstanding. 

She sits stiffly on her bed and you bring her over a glass of water. She takes it and sips quietly. You can see the hesitation in her side glances.

There is something unfixable now. Some part of the illusion that is gone forever. 

You reach over to Natasha and undo the ends of her braids. Slowly, you unwind them until you can run your fingers easily through her wavy hair. Your fingertips brush her skin and you hear her sigh. 

You move her hair to the side and press a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

You feel the shudder run through her at the touch of your lips. 

She takes your hand and slowly directs it to her breast. You squeeze it automatically and Natasha moans. The glass of water moves to a side table and Natasha’s hand comes to cover your own. She squeezes her own breast harder and then moans louder. 

You smirk as you realise you will have to work harder if you want to be as good as her.

You kiss along her neck, your teeth nipping at her soft skin. Natasha’s hips shift needily on top of the bed and your breath catches. 

Natasha hesitates then. You hear her take a deep breath. Her thumb brushes your calloused knuckles. She doesn’t look at you.

‘Even now?’ She breathes at last.

You close your eyes. Her back is pressing against you. You can smell the sweat on her skin. She is warmth and you are wrapped around her. 

‘There was never any competition.’ You tell her with your lips on her skin.

.

.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

Rarely

Natasha Romanoff x Reader + WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Day 7: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 7th of January, which is 'alpha'.

.

‘Is this seat free?’ 

You could tell from her voice. The confidence, the heat behind it. You could just tell.

.

‘Sure.’ You gave a shy smile and hurried to clear the tray with empty mugs that cluttered the table. 

Her hand brushed your wrist. 

‘Let me?’ She offered, taking the tray and walking it back to the coffee shop counter.

Your stomach did nervous flips as you watched her walk away. 

She’d left her leather jacket hanging over the back of the seat opposite you. Underneath was a white tank top. Her long red braid found a space between her toned shoulder blades. 

You watched her lean over the counter to the barista and order something new. Her smile was quick and easy to appear. She was making the barista laugh. Her ear piercings glittered under the lights as she laughed too. 

You pressed your tongue hard against your teeth and tried not to look nervous as she walked back. 

You only noticed the second mug when she put it down in front of you. 

‘I got you the same as before.’ Her voice rasped.  ‘As a thank you.’

‘Oh.’ You stammered unsurely. ‘You didn’t need to thank me for that.’ 

The woman leaned back against her seat, her posture far too relaxed for the hard backed seat. Her head tilted and she smiled. She shrugged and took a sip from her own drink. 

You dragged your focus down to the book you were supposed to be reading. You could barely make out the blur of words on the page. You bit your lip and willed yourself to think about the story you’d been enjoying until a few minutes ago. You were just sharing a table, it didn’t mean anything.

At last, you finally immersed yourself back in the story. You lost track of time, before suddenly remembering the coffee that you hadn’t got to yet. You reached out absentmindedly. The back of your hand brushed someone else’s. You startled immediately. 

A gentle touch guided your hand to your own coffee mug. 

‘That one’s yours.’ She told you, her eyes sparkling with obvious enjoyment.

‘Right.’ You swallowed nervously, throat suddenly too tight to even try to take a sip. 

‘My name’s Natasha.’ The woman told you then. 

‘Y/N’ 

It took a moment for you to realise her hand was still touching yours. Your breathing went shallow. She was leaning forward in the white tank top.

‘Natasha.’ You repeated dumbly.

Her head tilted as she waited for you to say something else. You tried to think of something, anything to say, anything else to focus on.  Your eyes caught on the dangling trinket close to the area you were trying not to stare at.

‘I like your necklace.’ You said lamely. Natasha’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. Her thumb brushed the back of your hand. 

(You went home with her.)

.

It was easy to follow Natasha. She was the alpha type. Her shoulders always relaxed, a smile ready whenever she wanted it. A look in her eyes that promised to tell you everything. 

You didn’t worry about making it anything official. You wanted to like how easy it was.

Sometimes she’d call and meet you some place. The boardwalk, a museum. You’d spend the afternoon together and enjoy the simplicity of it all. Walking with her arm around your shoulders and her fingers draped for you to play with absentmindedly. The soft squeeze of affection when you said something that made her laugh. 

She remembered your coffee order, from that first day. She’d rattle it off along with her own in cafes and restaurants, like it was second nature to her. 

You learned how to use the coffee machine in her apartment. How to run your fingers through her hair and kiss her at the crack of dawn, so she’d stay patiently in bed and wait for you to come back with two hot mugs. 

.

Everything was easy with Natasha. Until it wasn’t.

.

You met Wanda on a Friday evening. She broke your heart. 

You knocked on Natasha’s door, wondering if she might be free.

A beautiful redhead answered. Not the one you’d been expecting. 

You heard the words come out of your mouth. 

‘Is Natasha in?’

You looked at the woman, long hair rumpled and in nothing but an oversized shirt. A shirt you’d borrowed once before. 

She opened her mouth to answer. 

You didn’t wait to hear it. You left with tears of embarrassment and hurt already streaming down your cheeks. 

You ignored your phone the next time Natasha called. And the next. 

It was embarrassing. It was meant to be easy. There’d been no rules with Natasha. It wasn’t her fault you’d caught feelings.

.

You went to your favourite cafe the next day, trying to shake off the moroseness that you’d woken up with. 

The barista smiled at the sight of you. She made your order before you asked for it. That was something. 

You found a table in the back corner, took out your book and tried to reset. You lost yourself in someone else’s story.

‘Is this seat taken?’

You could tell from her voice. The confidence, the heat behind it. 

It was Natasha. Your stomach twisted with panic. You closed your book and rested it on the table.

You looked up and met her gaze. The easy smile was long forgotten. Her stare was heavy. Her brow creased in worry. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ You said carefully.

‘Please.’ She tried again, voice gentle. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the table.

You felt yourself start to tremble as tears threatened. You tried not to look at her.

‘It’s just.’ You started shakily. ‘It’s just - I think I like you a lot more than you like me.’

There was a pause. Then, you felt Natasha’s hand cover your own, still resting on the cover of your book. She brushed the back of your hand more softly than you had ever been touched before.

‘I don’t think that’s true.’ She murmured. ‘Not at all.’

You met her stare and wondered if anything was true. You wondered if it was wrong to trust someone because of the way they touched you.

You swallowed again and nodded once.

‘Okay, you can sit.’

Natasha did.

She talked about the things you didn't know. The things she should've told you. It was simple when she laid it out. Not complicated or cruel. 

She loved Wanda and Wanda loved her.

They were happy, the easy kind of happy that comes along rarely. 

You nodded when Natasha said that, feeling an imaginary knife twist inside you.

Natasha paused for a moment. 

‘Rarely.’ She said carefully, her fingers finding yours again hesitatingly. They tangled together in a way that made your heart thump loudly. ‘Rarely doesn’t mean just once.’

They were looking for something else. Someone else. Natasha had met you and known immediately. It was hard to know how to ask. How to explain the situation. 

Sadness tugged at Natasha’s gentle smile.

‘That’s why she was there. We wanted to tell you. We wanted to ask you then.’

For the first time, you watched Natasha hesitate. She took a deep breath, trying to find the words.

You leaned forward. You let your thumb brush the back of her hand. 

‘Tell me about her?’ You asked softly.

Natasha’s eyes closed for a second, she squeezed your hand gently. A small smile appeared on her face again.

‘I don’t know where to start.’ 

You thought about the woman you’d seen for the briefest moment. Your instant recognition of her undeniable beauty. The calmness that had radiated from her. The obvious empathy in her eyes that had stung so badly before. 

Natasha hesitated and then she asked more tentatively than ever.

‘Would you - Would you like to meet her?’

.

Wanda entered the cafe with a clear nervous tension. She scanned the room for a moment until her gaze met yours. She gripped the strap of her handbag tightly.

You smiled shyly and watched her loosen with sudden relief. You gave a small wave and watched her fingers loosen immediately to return the gesture. 

You felt Natasha’s pleased attention shifting between you as Wanda walked towards the table. She walked with a simple poise that you could tell was natural. Her long auburn hair was gathered into a claw clip at the back of her head.

She took the vacant seat next to Natasha. 

Wanda looked at you, with a kind of intensity you’d never experienced before. Then, she gave you a hesitating, hopeful smile. 

‘Hi.’ She said, glancing to Natasha beside her for reassurance. Her shoulders relaxed again when she met Natasha’s smile.

‘Hi.’ You replied, skin humming with anticipation. Your fingers tapped nervously on the cover of your book.

Wanda glanced down at the new drinks already on the table; Natasha had brought them over moments before. 

She looked at the mug of hot tea waiting for her, and then the coffee sitting beside you.

‘You like coffee?’ Wanda asked uncertainly, clearly trying to find a piece of conversation to begin with.

You smiled. You glanced at Natasha and then back at her. You reached for your mug and brought it to your lips. You shrugged.

‘Yes. But I like tea too.'

.

(You went home with them.)

You already knew how to use the coffee machine at their apartment. How to run your fingers through their hair and kiss them at the crack of dawn, so they'd stay patiently in bed and wait for you to come back with three hot mugs. 

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

.

[makeitmakesomesense]

The End of It

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: A/N: Day 6: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 6th of January, which is 'internet'.

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‘It’ll be so nice.’ The babysitter said with a smile. ‘Having some time, just for the two of you.’

You kept a fake smile plastered to your face. You glanced at Natasha. Her fake smile was always so much better than yours. 

‘You really deserve the break. You guys are like the nicest family.’ The babysitter said now. She was looking between you and your wife with an admiring smile. 

You slipped your hand around Natasha’s waist and pretended not to feel her stiffen at the touch. 

.

You offered to drive first and Natasha didn’t say anything. Five years of marriage and silence was easier than talking. 

You reversed out of the driveway, taking the shortest route to the highway. As you merged onto the busier road, Natasha spoke beside you.

Her tone was flat. 

‘Do you still want to get a divorce?’ 

You stared forward, your hand gripped the steering wheel. Somewhere far ahead, a car horn blared.

‘You know that I do.’

Natasha’s head turned back to lean against the car window.

.

You drove in silence to the hotel. It was thirty minutes away, Natasha’s choice. You hadn’t complained, given everything. You wondered if she was going for a kind of symmetry. 

It was the same hotel chain as the one you’d visited on your honeymoon. It made you feel a bit sick. 

Natasha went to the front desk and checked in. You stood a few feet back and waited with the two small suitcases. You stared at the luggage and realised that you could have shared one bigger bag. You tried to remember if you were ever in sync.

Natasha walked back to you, hotel keycard in hand. Her sunglasses were pushed up into her red hair. She’d cut it a few years ago. The new look had seemed severe at the time. Now, with her lips pressed tightly together, it suited her perfectly.

She didn’t look at you. She caught the handle of her wheeled suitcase and dragged it casually behind her. 

You tried to ignore the sudden flare of annoyance as you were forced to follow behind. The lingering feeling of not being wanted.

When you reached your suite, you watched as Natasha threw her backpack onto the desk in the corner. She dragged her suitcase around to her side of the bed and slipped casually out of her heels. 

You stared at the crumpled backpack. Everything else about Natasha’s life was always so put together. The backpack was the exception. She’d bought it when your first daughter was born. You stared at the backpack, suddenly frozen in place.

Memories demanded your attention. You'd used watched it swing casually from Natasha’s shoulders on every family day out. Your daughter had scribbled over the front of it after a particularly perfect day at the zoo. You’d waited for Natasha to lose her temper when she saw the scribbles. Instead, she’d just laughed.

‘I love giraffes.’ She’d cooed happily, lifting your daughter on her lap and giving her an eskimo kiss. 

You’d wondered then. Why had you expected something else. Why her smiles were becoming surprising.

Natasha walked back over to the desk now. 

She unzipped the backpack and started to rummage inside it. She hooked the leg of the chair with her ankle and dragged it out from underneath the desk.

She glanced back at you and nodded directively at the chair. 

Simmering frustration was becoming your default. You tensed your jaw as you walked over to take the indicated seat. 

You’d been the one to ask for the divorce but Natasha was the one who’d tersely demanded this. A weekend break away from the kids as a cover to get together and figure out the exact details. 

At last, Natasha pulled out a notebook. She turned around and moved to sit on the desk beside you. Her legs swung back and forth as she opened the book to the right page. You tensed your jaw at the swinging motion, everything casual she did seemed to set you on edge. The implication that she didn't care. It was a pretence but it was a cruel one.

Natasha opened the notebook at a neatly filled out page. Even at the funny angle, you recognised a checklist of topics to cover. 

Natasha cleared her throat, she clicked the pen in her hand decisively. Then, she looked up at you. Your gaze met her calm one.

Immediately, Natasha started to cry. 

.

You got to your feet instantly. 

A decades old instinct made you cup her face. Your fingers tangled in her hair. Natasha’s body curled forward as she shook with silent tears. Her hand gripped the front of your t-shirt. 

The heaviness inside you was beyond words. Your bones were lead. You leaned forward to kiss her hair. Natasha pushed you away. 

You stumbled back before regaining your balance. You watched Natasha cover her face and cry harder. Her sunglasses fell from her head, clattering to the ground. 

You left the room and waited in the lobby. You connected your phone to the free internet access and stared at it blindly, willing yourself not to break down.

.

You gave it an hour before you returned to the room. Natasha was waiting for you. She was lying on her side of the bed on top of the pristine covers. She was wearing a white hotel robe. Her hair was damp and the ends were already curling. She glanced up at you as you walked in. Her eyes were rimmed red, but her expression was stony. 

‘Are you ready to talk?’ You asked quietly. 

Natasha folded her arms but she didn’t speak. 

Five years of marriage and silence was easier than talking. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. 

‘Do you want to talk about custody?’ You tried, voice carefully passive. You knew it was the conversation that you were both dreading the most. 

Natasha looked towards you but her gaze didn’t meet yours.

‘Fifty-fifty.’ She murmured, eyes trained an inch to the left of you. You nodded. It was a good place to start. 

‘We can make it work around your schedule.’ You promised suddenly. It had kept you up at night. Weirdly, more than anything else. The idea of Natasha losing time with her kids because she was away saving the world. ‘We’ll adapt it so you really do get half the time.’

A lone tear rolled down Natasha’s cheek.

You tried to speak again, but your throat tightened unbearably. Instead, you left to take a shower. 

.

You ordered takeout to the hotel that evening. You walked out to meet the delivery driver in the parking lot. He gave you a nonplussed look as he handed over the plastic bag with a single portion of food inside. You still felt self conscious. You hated people thinking you were lonely.

That’s why this had taken so long to unravel.

You returned to the hotel room. Natasha was sitting on the desk again. Her half eaten burger ordered from room service was next to her. She was still in her robe, but it was coming loose. She didn’t seem to care. Her bare legs swung back and forth, determined to annoy you.

You dragged the desk chair a few feet further away from her and took a seat. Once she had finished eating, Natasha watched you instead. You tried to ignore her. It was strange having this much attention on you. Life was so easily full of other things. Kids. Life. Work. 

Just as you started to pack up the empty container and plastic cutlery, Natasha cleared her throat.

You looked over to her. She was playing with the end of the dressing gown cord, wrapped loosely around her waist. In another, less sad, lifetime it could have been flirting. Instead, you recognised the anxious gesture. 

‘Why do you want a divorce?’ Natasha asked at last. 

It had been three weeks since you’d first brought it up. Natasha had barely said a word since. She'd been avoiding this question. You realised now. You felt your heart breaking one last time. 

‘You’re not happy.’ You said with simple sadness. ‘You haven’t been for a long time.’ 

‘I don’t think I make you happy.’ You admitted. 

Your throat burned as you forced the final words out without tears. 

‘I’d give you anything Natasha.’ Your face cracked into an automatic smile as you savoured the feel of her name on your tongue. It would never not be special. ‘Let me give you this.’

The silence was unbearable.

You stared down at the ground, you leaned forward in your chair as the hollowness in your chest became hard to bear. 

Natasha’s hand brushed the back of your neck. It was a gesture so familiar, you felt like you’d known it your whole life. 

‘I don't want anything else. I just want you.’ 

When you looked up, you met her green eyes and couldn't help but love her.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[makeitmakesomesense]

The Early Morning

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 5: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 5th of January, which is 'blind'.

It is just past the middle of the night. You have officially entered the early morning. You find yourself awake. You went to sleep right after your last mission. This is your consequence. 

You don’t try to fight it, instead you roll out of your bed and make your way to get something to drink. Ever since Vision and Wanda have become part of the Avengers, things have been a little different. You’ve all done your best to welcome them to the team, but they have kept to themselves far more than you expected. The changing dynamics have been something to adjust to.

You let yourself enjoy the easy peace of the quiet nighttime. 

You walk to the kitchen and freeze for a second. 

Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Her hair is wet. Her face is ashen and her hands are cupping a hot mug of tea. Her eyes flit wearily to you. 

You hesitate, not sure how to approach. You’ve never spoken to her alone.

‘You okay?’

Wanda turns back to her tea, she doesn’t answer. 

You watch the ends of her hair drip onto the tiled floor. 

You refill the kettle and turn it on. You take a seat next to her. 

Wanda’s wearing a grey sweater. It’s too big for her. The sleeves have ridden up and her forearms are exposed. Goosebumps coat her skin. 

You try again. Something more direct. 

‘Are you cold?’

Wanda’s eyes meet yours and you know that she is. 

The kettle boils and you stand up, your hand touches her shoulder as you pass by. You feel her shudder.

You bring her a new mug. The steam curls promisingly above the liquid. Wanda leans over it. Her hands wrap around the ceramic, even though it must be burning hot. She shudders again and closes her eyes.

You sit next to her with your own mug and think.

Dim light seeps through the large windows and illuminates Wanda’s face. Her eyes have dark shadows under them. You can tell she must not be sleeping. You wonder where Vision is.

As if she can read your thoughts (and you can’t help wondering if she can). Wanda answers your silent question.

‘Viz doesn’t sleep. Not like people do. It’s more... robotic.’

You picture immediately a long cable connecting the android to a computer. You push down the ridiculous image that's probably not so far from the truth. You nod at Wanda silently encouraging her to continue. 

‘At night, he goes offline. Really offline. Missiles could go off and he’d be blind to it.’

You try to understand the subtext of Wanda’s words. There’s a strange suspense to your next question, it is the possibility that she might say yes. 

‘Do you worry about that? About missiles going off?’

Wanda smiles at you. Her head tilts. It could be playful if her eyes weren’t full of pain. 

‘It’s all I worry about.’

You give a half smile back, you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

‘I’ve done all my sleeping for tonight.’ You tell her carefully. ‘If you want someone there… someone awake. I was going to watch a movie anyway and I can put on headphones.’

Wanda takes her first sip of the slowly cooling tea. 

‘Thank you.’ She says a moment later, her small smile now weighted with relief.

Wanda follows you back to your room that night. She waits for you to prop some pillows against the headboard and lie back on one side of the bed. She falls readily onto the other side of the mattress. 

She’s not self conscious, not like you’d half expected. 

She sinks into the bed like it’s been calling her for days. You listen to her breathing even out before you put on your headphones.

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It becomes a routine of sorts. Your new sleep schedule is not nearly as difficult as you expect. You switch your mindless after-dinner screen time with an early nap.

Wanda knocks on your door in the early hours of each morning. You plug in some headphones and watch whatever film you can think of.

Wanda lies beside you. Now that the worst of the sleep deprivation has abated, she is slower to fall asleep. Sometimes you even talk for a few minutes, about the day before or the film you’re planning to watch. 

It’s easy to talk to Wanda, much easier than you ever expected. You try to understand the distance she’s always kept from everyone on the team except Vision.

Each morning, you wait patiently for the inevitable long pause in coversation, for the moment that her eyelids slowly start to close. 

There is something comforting about her steady breathing beside you.

It is too easy to be comfortable. Despite your best efforts, it only takes a week for you to become lulled to near sleep yourself. 

You’re not quite asleep, you’re still following along with the dialogue from the movie. But your mind has drifted and your eyes have closed. 

They fly open at the first feeling of movement beside you. You startle suddenly as you understand your inadvertent mistake. You move backwards unthinkingly and hit your head sharply on the edge of the headboard.

You hiss out and apologise automatically. 

Wanda is still lying in the bed next to you, she has turned to face you. Her head is resting on the pillow. She looks exhausted with a different kind of fatigue. She sits up very carefully, as if her presence is inherently scary.

You don’t know how to explain. That your automatic panic came only from the disorientation of nearly falling asleep by mistake. 

Wanda speaks before you can. Her mouth twists into the same bitter smile that you’ve seen once before. She is watching you rub the sore spot at the back of your head.

‘It’s your amygdala.’ She explains.

‘What?’ You ask unsurely.

‘That’s why you’re afraid.’ 

‘My amygdala.’ You repeat dumbly.

‘Yes. Vision explained it once. It’s what makes you afraid of me, even if you don’t want to be.’ Her words are rehearsed. They sound calm but you can hear something else simmering behind them. ‘Your amygdala knows the danger that comes with being near me.’

‘And what about Vision’s amygdala?’ You ask sharply, suddenly hating the implications of her words. ‘How does he manage?’

‘It’s synthetic.’ 

‘That’s lucky.’ You comment dryly.

She stares at you seriously. An overwhelming loneliness fills her eyes. 

‘Yes.’ Wanda says quietly, looking down at the bedspread. ‘It is.’

You watch Wanda leave. 

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You spend the day caught between a wish to apologise and a lingering uncertainty that something else is wrong. Something more complicated than you’d realised.

You seek out Natasha in the end, trusting her advice and needing someone to speak to. You find her as she’s leaving a boardroom after a meeting. She invites you back into the room and you sit together. You start to tell her about Wanda. You try to state the facts. The sleep deprivation. Vision’s words. Her isolation from the team. 

You hope you don’t sound biased, you hope your concern doesn’t seem excessive.

Natasha’s lips twist and you can tell she doesn’t like the details either. She tells you other things, small moments she’s noticed. Their separate meals from the rest of you. His frequent appearances in Wanda’s room without warning. How it's the one thing he can’t seem to learn not to do. A sudden lengthy monologue about the benefits of Stark’s technology, unaware of Wanda stiffened posture beside him.  

You exchange a long look with Natasha, it holds something that you recognise in your bones.

You decide to worry together. 

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That night you find Wanda before the time she usually comes to your room. It is just past midnight and she is sitting at the dining table. Her dark hair is wet again. 

She startles violently when you call her name. Her shoulders relax immediately as she turns to find you. 

Wanda stands suddenly and moves to the kitchen counter. You watch her refill the kettle and turn it on. She takes out two mugs. She smiles at you again. There’s relief in it. 

‘Good evening.’ She says at last. Her fingers tap out a steady rhythm against the marble countertop. 

She notices you watching and her hand stills suddenly. She stares down at her fingers. Her mouth closes and her jaw ticks. She is lost in thought. You know she is remembering your last encounter.

This time, you speak first. You start slowly.

‘I’m not afraid of you.’ You tell her carefully. 

Wanda doesn’t look up. You watch the familiar bitter smile that makes your gut twist unhappily.

‘Then you are not paying attention.’ She says simply. 

‘I am.’ You counter stubbornly. 

‘We can’t change who we are.’ Her voice is monotone and you can tell that she is quoting someone else. ‘We can’t relinquish the dangers that comes with our power.’

‘But we can always have family.’ Your argument is quiet. ‘We can still have love and care. We can forgive ourselves for who we are.’

Wanda goes very still. After a moment, she reaches for the kettle that has now boiled. You watch her pour the water into the two waiting mugs.

‘Vision -’ She begins at last, looking at you unsurely. ‘It’s hard’

‘What is?’ 

She hands you a mug of tea and you watch her grip her own drink like it’s a life support system. 

‘He would never do the things I’ve done.’ Her voice cracks with barely repressed guilt. ‘It can be hard to not feel alone.’ 

You drink your tea and watch her for a moment. Wanda's breathing is shallow. Her pupils have dilated in the dim light. Her dark eyes are watching you, waiting. 

‘I would’ve.’ You confess softly. ‘If I’d been you. I think I would have done the same things.’

A thousand emotions flit through Wanda's expression. It settles somewhere between fear and longing.

You move forward and place your mug on the countertop, carefully you take Wanda’s from her too. When her hands are free, you hold them gently in your own. 

She grips them tightly. You can feel her shaking. 

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ You offer softly. ‘Just for a few days. We can borrow a car. We can go right now.’

Wanda is so close to you now. You feel the hitch in her breath as you much as you hear it.

Wanda’s expression fills with the same look of longing and she glances outside at the full moon that is brightening the darkest part of the night. 

‘Viz’ll wake up soon.’ She hesitates. ‘He hates it when I leave this place.’

You shake your head. You give her a small smile. ‘Natasha said they’re using his offline time tonight to update some of his old programming. Getting rid of some of the biases that Tony created back when it was only Jarvis.’

You pause. Wanda is looking at you like the world is something new again.

‘We have time.’ You tell her and it feels like a promise. 

Her small smile is full of sudden happiness.

Wanda leans forward and her head rests against your shoulder. There is a weightlessness to her tired relief.

You are grateful that your amygdala is very real. That you can feel this entirely.

‘Okay’ She says finally against your shirt. ‘Do you mind if I sleep while you drive?’

You laugh and wrap your arms around her. The wet ends of her hair drip onto your arms.

You leave the Compound before the sun has risen.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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