Jealousy, Jealousy (Queen!Natasha Romanoff x female reader)
“Even if your pretty mouth wants to deny it, your eyes are telling me everything about how wet you're getting right now.”
summary: You're the lover of the queen Natasha and tonight you went out. She is jealous about you choosing time with other people over time with your queen. When you come back she makes sure you know who you belong to... (royal au)
warnings: smut in the end, thigh riding, neck kisses, alcohol
a/n: English is not my first language, pls be kind 😘
Natasha sat in her bed, bored and tense at the same time. The cool night air coming into her room from the balcony brushed against her bare legs, giving her goose bumps. She pulled her black dressing gown tighter around her body. The sun had long since set, and she tried to guess from the position of the stars how much time had passed since you left.
She hated it. You could be with her right now, your head resting in her lap, her gentle fingers stroking your head. But instead, you were out celebrating the birthday of that ugly woman who looked like a clown in armor. She detested Agatha, simply because she was friends with you. Natasha wasn't childish; she had more pride than she would forbid you from having contact with others, but she was jealous nonetheless.
A few hours ago, she had helped you get dressed, critically observing you and deciding which dress showed too much skin and which one you were ultimately allowed to wear.
She knew that you wanted to go to the tavern for the birthday party, where the knights of the royal guard also drank. And Natasha knew the men of this disgusting city and what they would do to pretty girls like you. She didn't trust Agatha either; she saw the look she gave you when you walked past her. She would have loved to have her eyes gouged out and knew that as queen she had the power to do so, but you'd be so mad at her.
She felt powerless. At least she had been able to choose your dress and do your hair. Now she sat here, playing thoughtfully with her necklace and staring into the fire. You had told her to go to bed in case you were late, but how could she sleep when Natasha saw people everywhere who wanted to devour you?
•.•.•.•.•.•.•.• .•.•.•
Meanwhile, you were dancing and having fun. The music was loud, people were laughing. It was crowded, it was packed with people, but you were fine.
You knew how jealous Natasha was, but she had no reason to be. You were faithful. And you loved her, but you also needed your freedom.
You danced with different people, you danced in groups,
arm in arm in a circle. With Agatha, of course. It was nice, but at some point you started to feel a little tipsy. The alcohol was in your blood and you knew your limits, besides, Natasha hated it when you got too drunk. And she was already in a bad mood.
You said goodbye and were escorted back to the castle by the guards, finally standing in front of Natasha's door. Light shone through the gap at the bottom of the door; of course, she hadn't gone to sleep.
You knocked quietly and then slipped inside. She was sitting in bed leaning against soft pillows, holding a book in her pointed fingers, which she immediately put down when you opened the door. With a neutral look, she looked at you.
“You're late,” she said sharply.
You smiled apologetically, still standing at the door.
“And you're still awake.”
“Come here.”
She reached out her hand to you. You jumped onto her bed and sat down on top of her. Your arms wrapped around her neck, her hands landed on your thighs.
“I missed you,” you said with a sincere smile.
Green eyes sparkled suspiciously at you, like a cat's. She tilted her head and looked you over.
“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it to make me feel better?”
“Of course I mean it.”
“You're late,” she repeated, as if still waiting for your explanation. Her hands pressed firmly against your thighs.
“Did you have fun?”
You nodded.
“Very. It was nice.”
It was hard to find the right words to satisfy her. Her gaze was searching, scrutinizing you as if she were looking for clues that you were hiding something.
“Did anyone want something from you?”
“Natasha, of course not.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Did anyone touch you?” she continued in a soft voice, stroking your hair as if it were a work of art.
“Is this an interrogation?”
“Did someone touch you?”
She simply repeated her question, noticing, of course, that you weren't answering.
“There were a lot of people, we were dancing,” you muttered, nervously playing with the bow on her dressing gown.
“Of course we touched each other. But does that matter?”
“You tell me.”
You closed your eyes and forced yourself to smile. She made it difficult for you to be happy to see her.
“I just want your touch,” you explained and looked at her again.
“The rest doesn't matter, darling. You know that."
You leaned down to kiss her, but she pushed you away.
“You smell of alcohol,” she said bitterly.
“And of people. Go and wash yourself, I've had a bowl of water prepared for you.”
Your eyes darkened at the rejection, you climbed silently off the bed and ran sadly into the next room. As she had said, there was a large bowl of water and a sponge waiting for you. You began to untie the strings of your dress when she suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Let me do it,” Natasha said quietly and came over to you. She took off your dress and undid the clips in your hair. You couldn't tell if she was still secretly looking for evidence to confirm her jealousy. But she wouldn't find anything.
The water was ice cold as she began to scrub roughly over the bare skin of your body with the sponge. You just stood there and let her do it. For Natasha, it was as if she were freeing you from all the foreign traces on your skin. As if she could scrub all of that off you. Her hands were not gentle. Afterwards, she rubbed you with one of her expensive lotions, and she was much more affectionate toward you. You were supposed to smell like her again. She combed your hair and dripped high-quality oil into it. It was her ritual to make sure you were hers, and you let her do it, knowing she would be more relaxed afterwards.
Finally, she slipped one of her dressing gowns over you.
“Now you look better,” she murmured, stroking your shoulders.
“Are you satisfied now?” you asked quietly.
“Don't say that,” she ordered and smiled.
“It sounds like I'm usually unbearable.”
“Sometimes it is.”
She rolled her eyes and led you back to her bed.
“Whatever these evenings, these strange people give you, I could give you all of that and so much more,” she said softly, stroking your hair. “You hurt me by preferring the company of drunks to mine.”
“And you hurt me when you think I do it because I want to be around drunks,” you replied hurtfully, taking her hand out of your hair to squeeze it gently.
“Besides, it was a birthday.”
“Is a birthday more important than my feelings?” she asked angrily, pulling her hand away from yours.
“You're being unfair, stop it,” you hissed, and she raised her eyebrows.
“I think I'm being very gracious to you for all the things I allow you to do.”
“Allow?” you repeat incredulously and stand up. You have been patient with many of her whims, but it makes you angry when she treats you so condescendingly.
“Your jealousy makes you so annoying sometimes. You can find someone else to keep your bed warm tonight.”
You stood up and wanted to leave the room, but before you could even touch the door handle, she grabbed you from behind by the hips and pressed you against the wooden door. Her body pressed tightly against yours.
“Then find yourself a new queen,” she whispered with moist breath directly into your ear, while her hands pinned your wrists to the door behind you.
“Because you're forgetting who you're talking to.”
Your eyes fluttered up to hers, your knees went weak. That's how she always got you. You felt her angry heat, it transferred to you, gave you goose bumps. Natasha's lips twisted into a grim smile at your sudden silence.
“Stop pretending you find this repulsive when you're standing here in front of me like this,” she said through clenched teeth, pushing her hips further against yours. “Even if your pretty mouth wants to deny it, your eyes are telling me everything about how wet you're getting right now.”
“You're terrible — oh...”
A moan escaped you involuntarily. Her knee forced your legs apart and nestled perfectly into the gap between them, as if it had been made for it.
“Oh yes, I'm so cruel,” she said ironically and began to rub her bare knee rhythmically against your wet heat. She was driving you crazy, you should have been angry with her, but she was literally starting to fuck your thoughts out of your head.
“Shut up already,” you gasped.
You wanted to free your wrists to press your hand against her mouth, but her grip was ironclad. Her smile widened.
“You should see yourself,” she purred, leaning forward to kiss your neck. Her teeth gnawed at your tender skin, leaving marks. You knew how much she loved to mark you, whether it was with her expensive lotion or little reminders of her rough love on your skin.
You gave yourself completely to her, there was no other way. In the end, she always got what she wanted. After all, she was the queen.
The neon buzz of New York flickered like a restless heartbeat outside the window of the luxury penthouse suite. The city below danced in colors, electric pinks, deep indigos, fleeting flashes of gold, but none of it could hold a candle to the fire simmering just beneath Natasha Romanoff’s skin.
You were laughing again.
Not at her. Not even with her. But at something he said. Some famous brand ambassador with a face sculpted by fame and a smirk that knew it. You were seated beside him on the low velvet couch in the VIP lounge, dressed in a sleek black outfit Natasha had helped pick out just hours ago. The same outfit that now drew his eyes like a moth to a flame.
She watched from across the room, a glass of neat vodka sweating in her hand, lip curled in an almost imperceptible sneer. No one else would notice, but you would. If you had looked her way.
But you didn’t.
You always looked at her. You always felt her.
Until tonight.
Natasha tilted the glass to her lips, sharp gaze never leaving your face. You smiled at him, David, was it? And leaned closer to hear what he was saying over the bass of the lounge music.
Her fingers clenched around the glass.
This is why she hated this city sometimes. It was beautiful, in a sleek, soulless kind of way. Towering buildings, everyone pretending not to look as they looked. The glitz, the pace, the perfect image. The performance of it all.
And now here you were, dazzling in the center of it like some kind of fallen star, and her, your girlfriend, your partner, the one who held your secrets in the middle of the night, she was suddenly an afterthought.
“Someone looks like they’re about to cause an international incident,” a voice teased beside her.
Natasha didn’t need to look to know it was Yelena. The blonde dropped into the chair next to her with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, sipping on something aggressively pink and fizzy.
“She’s working,” Natasha said coldly.
Yelena raised a brow. “You mean you are working. She’s networking.”
Natasha turned her head slowly. “Same thing.”
“Mm. Except only one of you looks like she’s about to shoot a man in the face.”
“I’m not going to shoot him,” Natasha muttered.
“Yet.”
The glass cracked slightly under her grip.
Yelena sighed and leaned back. “Possessive Natasha is not my favorite Natasha. Remember Bali? The tattoo artist?”
“He touched her.”
“He touched her shoulder.”
“With both hands.”
Yelena smirked. “You’re insane.”
Natasha’s eyes slid back to you. You were reaching for your phone now, showing something to David, who laughed and nodded. His hand brushed your knee.
She stood.
“Oh no,” Yelena said, groaning. “Natasha. Come on. Don’t be that girl.”
“I’m always that girl,” Natasha said flatly, placing her empty glass down.
The city outside blurred behind the tinted windows as Natasha pushed open the door to the lounge’s rooftop garden, where you’d slipped away to take a call. You were leaning on the railing, your voice soft and low. The wind played with your hair, New York’s skyline casting a surreal glow across your features.
She closed the distance in silence.
You startled when her arms slid around your waist, but relaxed almost instantly, leaning into the warmth of her.
“You disappeared,” you said.
“You were busy,” she replied.
You turned to face her, raising a brow. “Is that what this is about?”
Her grip tightened slightly. “He was flirting.”
You laughed, not unkindly, but it stung anyway.
“Nat…”
“I’m not in the mood to be brushed off.”
“I wasn’t brushing you off.”
“You didn’t even look at me.”
Her voice was calm, but it was that dangerous kind of calm that meant she was either going to shut down completely or set something on fire. With Natasha, there was rarely an in-between.
You studied her face, taking in the rigid line of her jaw, the flicker in her eyes.
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
You tilted your head.
“…Yes.”
A beat passed. Then another.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you said softly. “It’s a business trip. That’s all. I was being polite.”
“He touched you.”
You smiled faintly. “He touches everyone. He’s American. You know how they are.”
“Do you like him?”
That made you blink. “No. Nat, come on—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
You frowned. “I’m not. I only want you. You know that.”
Her eyes searched yours. “Then look at me like you mean it.”
You didn’t hesitate. You reached up, cradled her face between your palms, and leaned in until your foreheads touched.
“I only want you,” you whispered. “Always have.”
Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut. Her arms encircled your waist again, but this time slower. Possessive, yes, but also afraid. Like she was holding something too good, too rare, too fragile.
“You drive me crazy,” she murmured.
“I know.”
She pulled you in for a kiss, deep and hungry, more claim than affection. The wind howled softly around you, the buzz of the city dimming beneath the sound of your breathing.
She kissed you like she needed to drown out the neon lights. Like she could survive on you alone.
And maybe she could.
Later that night, in the dim light of the suite, you traced your fingers over her shoulder, the way you always did after you made up. Her skin was warm, muscles relaxed but still humming with tension.
“You really don’t like this city, huh?” you asked.
Natasha glanced at the ceiling. “It’s not that. The city’s fine.”
You smiled against her shoulder. “Then what?”
“It’s…shiny. Everything’s curated. Controlled. It’s like being back in the Red Room.”
You stilled. “That bad?”
“No. But it makes me feel…not real. Like I’m back on display.”
You nodded slowly. “I understand.”
She looked at you then. “You looked perfect tonight.”
You chuckled. “That sounds like a complaint.”
“It is. You were too perfect. They all looked at you.”
“They can look. You’re the one I go home with.”
Natasha rolled onto her side, facing you. “He asked for your number.”
You laughed. “He did not.”
“I heard him.”
You smirked. “And what did I say?”
She waited.
You leaned closer. “I said I am taken.”
“And?”
You brushed your lips against hers. “I said I am…dangerously taken.”
Natasha’s eyes gleamed, that dark gleam that always preceded something sinful. “That’s right.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “God, you’re such a menace.”
“Say that again.”
“You’re such a—”
She silenced you with a kiss, deep and slow, until you forgot your name, the hotel, the skyline. All of it.
The next morning, you woke to a quiet room and a note on the pillow.
Had to meet Yelena. Didn’t want to wake you. Back soon. Try not to break hearts while I’m gone.
—N.
You smiled to yourself, pulling the blanket tighter.
Later, while getting dressed, you noticed a little box on the vanity. Inside, a simple necklace with a small red stone. Not flashy. But it felt like Natasha: elegant, dangerous, deliberate.
You wore it the rest of the day.
Every time someone looked at you, you touched it. Every time you smiled at a client or shook hands with someone too familiar, you remembered the weight of her gaze.
By the time Natasha returned that evening, she didn’t need to say anything. She just looked at you, saw the necklace, and smiled like she owned the world.
Because in her mind, she did.
She had you.
And in this city, under all its lights and lies, Natasha knew that was the only thing real.
For natasha, you could do one where she finally lets reader help her after a particularly hard mission. It could be an injury or just being soft with her and letting her feel that (it’s totally up to you) big fluff and cuddles and affirmations, the works yenno?
-🐋
So sorry this took me so long!
Don't Joke Tonight
Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader
________________
The knock wasn’t playful.
That was the first thing you noticed.
Normally when Natasha showed up at your door, it came with a smirk. A raised brow. A low, “You busy?” that absolutely did not mean conversation.
Tonight it was quiet.
Three slow knocks.
You opened the door and immediately felt it, something off.
She wasn’t bleeding badly. Just a shallow cut near her temple and a rip at her side. Nothing catastrophic.
But her eyes weren’t sharp.
They were distant.
“Hey, assassin,” you said automatically, leaning on the doorframe. “Miss me already?”
Usually that earned you a lazy grin.
Tonight she just looked at you.
“…Can I stay?” she asked.
Your teasing died instantly.
“Yeah,” you said, softer. “Yeah, come in.”
She stepped inside without another word. No swagger. No deliberate brushing of shoulders. No low comment about how you look better in her bed than she does.
She just stood there in your living room like she wasn’t sure what to do next.
You shut the door slowly.
“What happened?”
She shrugged, too quick. “Mission.”
“That’s not an answer.”
A pause.
Then, quietly, “It got messy.”
She swayed slightly like she didn’t realize she was doing it.
You moved without thinking, hands landing gently at her waist.
She went still.
Not defensive.
Just… aware.
“You’re shaking,” you murmured.
“I’m not.”
She absolutely was.
Her jaw clenched, like she hated that you noticed.
“Sit,” you said gently.
She didn’t argue.
That alone told you how bad it was.
You guided her to your couch, kneeling in front of her to examine the cut at her temple.
“It’s nothing,” she said automatically.
“Shh.”
She watched you while you cleaned it. Not in that heated way she usually did when you were this close.
This was different.
Her eyes tracked your face like she was grounding herself in it.
“You’re quieter than usual,” you murmured.
She hesitated.
“I miscalculated,” she said finally.
You glanced up. “Meaning?”
“I didn’t see someone in the building.”
Your chest tightened.
“A civilian,” she clarified. “He ran when he heard the gunshot. I didn’t expect it.”
Your hand slowed.
“He’s fine,” she added quickly. “But for a second I thought…”
She stopped.
Thought what?
You didn’t push.
Instead, you reached up and brushed your thumb gently along her cheek, just beneath the cut.
She leaned into it.
Barely.
But she did.
“You don’t have to be alone after missions,” you said quietly.
“I’m not alone,” she deflected.
“You know what I mean.”
Silence stretched.
Her hands slid down to your hips, familiar territory, muscle memory from all those nights that started with flirting and ended tangled in sheets.
But this time her grip wasn’t possessive.
It was anchoring.
“I don’t want to go back to my room,” she admitted.
The vulnerability in that simple statement hit harder than anything else tonight.
“Then don’t.”
Her thumbs pressed into your sides, subtle pressure like she was making sure you were solid.
“You’re not going to make a joke?” she asked softly.
You understood immediately.
Usually you would. You’d tease her for being clingy. Tell her she was getting soft. Make it easy.
But tonight she didn’t want easy.
“Not tonight,” you said.
Her breath left her slowly.
You stood and took her hand.
“Come on.”
She followed you to your bedroom without the usual tension crackling between you. No playful tugging. No whispered promises.
Just quiet.
You sat on the bed and gently pulled her down with you.
She hesitated for half a second, like she wasn’t sure she deserved comfort that didn’t have a price.
Then she crawled into your space.
Not on top of you.
Not straddling your lap like usual.
She lay on her side and tucked herself against you, face pressed into your shoulder.
It stole the air from your lungs.
Her arms slid around your waist slowly, cautiously, like she expected you to push her off.
You didn’t.
You wrapped your arms around her immediately.
She exhaled.
A shaky sound she tried to hide.
“You’re okay,” you murmured into her hair.
“I know.”
But her fingers tightened in your shirt anyway.
“You did what you had to.”
“I know.”
Her voice was softer now. Less controlled.
Your hand moved to the back of her neck, thumb tracing slow circles through her hair.
She melted under it.
Actually melted.
“I don’t like when it gets loud,” she admitted quietly.
You paused. “Loud?”
“Too many variables. Too much chaos.” A swallow. “I prefer control.”
That made sense.
“You had it,” you said gently. “You came back.”
Her grip tightened.
“I always come back to you.”
The words slipped out like they weren’t meant to.
You went very still.
“…Yeah?”
She didn’t answer.
Just pressed her face closer into your shoulder, like she could hide there.
Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.
Her leg slid between yours, not suggestive, just instinctively seeking warmth. Seeking contact.
“Stay,” she murmured.
“I’m right here.”
“No,” she said, voice muffled. “Don’t move. Just… stay like this.”
You tightened your hold around her.
Her breathing started evening out slowly, but every so often her fingers would twitch like she was reliving something.
So you kept talking quietly.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
She didn’t argue.
Didn’t deflect.
Just held you tighter.
After a long moment, she tilted her head up slightly.
Her eyes weren’t sharp anymore.
They were tired.
Soft.
“You don’t have to let me stay,” she said quietly. “This isn’t part of our… arrangement.”
There it was.
The hook-up boundary.
The thing you both pretended kept it simple.
You brushed her hair back from her forehead.
“Maybe I don’t want it to be just that.”
Her breath caught.
“You’re shaken,” she warned softly.
“I’m serious.”
She searched your face like she was trying to detect a lie.
“Don’t say things you’ll regret in the morning,” she murmured.
“I won’t.”
Silence.
Then, slowly, she leaned up and kissed you.
Not heated.
Not hungry.
Soft.
Slow.
Careful.
Like she was afraid to break something fragile between you.
You kissed her back just as gently, hand cradling her jaw.
When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours.
“You feel different tonight,” she whispered.
“Good different?”
Her lips brushed yours again, almost absentminded.
Summary: The world can be wrong about many things, but nothing stings Natasha more than seeing them being wrong about who you're with.
Warnings: fluff
Words: 3382
The screen shifts to shaky phone footage, showing smoke pouring from the broken glass. In the next moment, you’re framed in the window, soot streaked along your cheek, hair wind-tossed from the draft. You look back once, making sure every civilian is clear, then leap.
The crowd screams as the building erupts behind you, fire sweeping outward in a large cloud.
You drop fast, arms tucked protectively around your head, and then a flare of red light curls around your body, catching you mid-fall. Your momentum slows sharply, not enough to be graceful, but enough to turn certain death into a messy tumble.
Wanda is a blur below, her hands glowing scarlet. You land right on top of her with a winded grunt from both of you.
A helmet-cam catches the moment your palms brace on either side of her head and your forehead presses against hers for half a second in adrenaline shock.
You can only blink at each other as Wanda’s lips part in stunned relief.
The camera freezes at that moment, displaying the image on the screen.
“And there it is,” the news anchor trills. “The fall that launched thousands of fan edits. With recent rumors of two Avengers dating in secret, many are speculating that maybe this duo are more than just teammates.”
Natasha stabs the remote so hard the plastic creaks as the screen goes black.
You’re lounging against her shoulder, scrolling your phone. Natasha’s arm is casually around you like it always is at home, but her jaw is clenched tight.
“Natasha.” You nudge her ribs lightly. “You gotta stop watching those segments. They’re just baiting fans and inventing drama because they’re bored.”
She huffs, arms crossing beneath you in a show of indignation.
“I know,” she mutters. “I know. I just don’t understand how they’ve managed to ship you with every single one of them except me.”
Your brows rise, lips twitching in amusement.
“Oh?”
“Don’t ‘oh’ me.” Natasha sits forward, affronted, gesturing with both hands. “Steve puts a hand on your shoulder one time—one time—and suddenly you’re America’s sweethearts.” She mocks in a sugary voice, “‘Look at the way Captain America looks at them,’” before scoffing.
You swallow a laugh, choosing patience over teasing—she doesn’t get vulnerable often, and you aren’t about to take this moment from her.
Natasha continues, winding herself tighter.
“And then two minutes later you practically tackle-hug me and all the comments say—” she tosses her hair dramatically, “‘Aww, best friends.’ Best. Friends.”
She spits the phrase like it’s stale vodka.
You snort, burying your face in her hoodie.
“They’re not wrong. You do give extremely best-friend energy.”
The death glare she shoots you is legendary.
“You’re my partner,” she growls, low enough that it isn’t a performance but the truth. Possessive. A little jealous. A little…wounded. “They fawn over everyone else at every little thing—Tony, Sam, Wanda, even Clint once—and then look at you hugging me and suddenly it’s a wholesome friendship montage?”
You slide your phone aside and shift to face Natasha fully, fingers brushing her wrist under the blanket.
“Does it bother you that much?”
Natasha lifts her chin stubbornly. “No.”
You raise one brow.
“…Maybe.”
Your hand slides up her forearm.
“We know what we are,” you say softly.
“We do.” Her voice drops, quieter now. Less jealous, more vulnerable. “I just…” she searches your face. “I don’t like people getting it wrong.”
“That we’re just friends?” you tease gently.
“That you’d look at anyone else like that,” she corrects without hesitation. Then, softer, like it slips out, “I like being the one you fall on.”
The heat rises between you at the double meaning. You kiss her shoulder, slow and reassuring.
“You’re the only one I’d fall for.”
Natasha goes completely still. A quiet breath catches in her chest, and then bit by bit, her edges soften.
“Sometimes,” she admits quietly, eyes flickering up to yours, “There are still moments I can’t believe you did.”
You gently guide her chin toward you and close the distance, brushing your lips to hers in a slow, reassuring kiss.
Her hand rises to cradle your cheek, returning it with a tenderness she rarely shows anyone else.
You pull back before she can chase after you, pressing your forehead to hers with a teasing smile.
“Next time I’m leaping out of a burning building,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along her jaw, “I’ll aim for you instead of Wanda.”
Natasha’s lips curve immediately, an amused, pleased glint sparking in her eyes.
“Good.”
The word lands warm and possessive between you. A beat passes, close enough to feel the steady rise of her chest under your hands, before she adds, voice low and teasing.
“Then we can spend time together in the med bay when you break my ribs from the impact.”
A surprised laugh slips from you before you steal a quick kiss from her.
“Romantic.”
“It is,” she answers with that familiar Natasha sincerity, the kind that makes your pulse jump. Her arm slides more firmly around your waist, tugging you closer until there’s no space left. “And you’re right. Let the internet have its delusions.”
You blink, momentarily thrown by how easily she accepts it. Some small suspicious part of you arches a brow, half expecting another grumble or glare toward the TV. But you barely have time to process it before she tugs you fully into her lap with quiet, decisive strength.
Your breath hitches at Natasha’s stare, locking onto your mouth like she’s been waiting all day for this moment. When she kisses you this time, it’s deeper, slower, but also grounding. A claim made not through jealousy, but certainty.
Her fingers slide to the back of your neck, thumb brushing the pulse point she never misses. She kisses you like you’re something she earned. Something she refuses to relinquish.
“I have you,” she whispers against your lips, voice soft in a way that only exists in rare, fragile pockets of privacy like this.
You lean into her, fingers curling into her shirt, forehead still resting against hers as you breathe her in.
“And don’t you ever doubt that.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
The steady hum of the jet lulls you awake, a gentle vibration beneath your cheek where it rests against Natasha’s shoulder. For a moment, you stay there, suspended between sleep and consciousness, breathing in the faint scent of leather and whatever subtle perfume she always somehow smells like, even mid-mission.
“We still have a few hours to go,” Natasha murmurs, voice soft, fingers brushing absent-mindedly through your hair. “You should rest a little longer.”
You breathe out a half-formed agreement, eyelids drooping again as you nestle closer. She warms your side in a way no blanket could. But before sleep finds you again, a flicker of pale-blue light catches your eye from the corner of your vision.
You crack one eye open, curiosity tugging you awake.
The phone’s screen illuminates Natasha’s face, her jaw tight and lips drawn into a subtle pout she’d deny with her last breath. The crease between her brows is small but telling to you.
You sigh softly, blinking yourself fully awake.
“Careful,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep, “if you glare any harder, your phone’s going to combust.”
A tiny, amused huff escapes her, but the sadness remains ghosted beneath her expression.
“Listen to this,” she mutters, then reads in a flat, unimpressed tone: “Long-distance lovers? Not even space can separate them.”
She tilts the phone toward you. The image is a freeze-frame of you mid-wave at Carol, who hovers in the air effortlessly, one arm braced around a hunk of falling steel, as if it weighs nothing.
You don’t need to be a mind reader to feel the pinch in her chest.
Natasha scrolls down a little, and the next headline pops up before she stops it.
“5 Facts You May Not Know About the Black Widow’s Past”
The breath leaves her in a tight, controlled exhale, one of those quiet ones she does when something stings, and she refuses to bleed in front of anyone.
The phone clicks off, and darkness replaces the glow.
“We don’t owe them anything,” she says, voice low and tired. She lets her head fall back against the cold metal bulkhead with a soft thud. “But still…I can’t help wanting them to know you’re mine.” Her tone softens to something rawer, more fragile, barely above a whisper. “That I can have someone.”
Her eyes flick toward you, guilt tugging down her lashes.
“Is that selfish?”
You don’t answer with words right away. Instead, you slide your hand down her arm, fingers tracing the line of muscle to her wrist, then lower, until your fingers lace with hers. You squeeze once and meet her eyes.
“Not at all, Natasha.”
Then you lean back into her shoulder, thumb brushing slow circles across her knuckles, grounding her in return. She doesn’t say anything, but her grip tightens like your touch is the first deep breath she’s taken in minutes.
“If the world knew how easy it is to love you,” you murmur, lips brushing her collar as you speak, “I’d be the one getting jealous of everyone who wanted you.”
For a second, she goes very still, like she’s swallowing something thick. Then a soft chuckle falls from her lips.
“Well,” she murmurs, turning her face just enough to press a quiet kiss into your temple, “luckily you’re the only one.”
You should be relieved that she’s feeling slightly better, but instead, something twists in your chest.
Her words echo in your mind—that I can have someone—and it stings more than you expect, enough that your lips flatten, a slight frown tugging at you before you can stop it. That she still believes she needs to prove she’s worthy of love—prove she can have you—burns at something tender inside you.
You turn your face into her shoulder anyway, not wanting her to see the way it hits you. Your nose nudges the fabric of her suit, grounding yourself in her warmth as you swallow down the ache.
Natasha leans ever so slightly, resting her head against yours, unaware that you’re fighting back the urge to tell her she deserves the world and every version of softness in it.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
The mission goes sideways in the final minutes as it always does. A rooftop extraction, comms fried by interference, backup still five minutes out. Smoke drifts up from the crumbling stairwell, debris rattling as another explosive tremor shakes the building.
“Natasha,” you call through the static, “you need to get out now.”
The harness digs into your ribs as you drop down from the adjacent building, boots scraping the side, one hand white-knuckling the line as you try to find the floor she’s on.
“Working on it,” she grits out, the calm hiding strain, her boots skidding across the floor as the structure groans beneath her. She darts straight toward the blown-out window.
Panic claws up your throat, choking you the moment you spot her, realizing what she’s about to do.
“Natasha—!”
She meets your eyes across the distance, steady and sure. And with no hesitation. She jumps, flying through glass and smoke, body arcing out of the window toward you.
You brace instinctively, reaching your arms out, lungs locked, praying—
The impact slams into your chest as her arms snap around your shoulders, your hands grab whatever you can: her suit, her waist, anything to secure her against you.
Then gravity takes over. And you both plummet.
The harness cord whips, screaming through the rig. You swing violently into open air, the two of you tangled together, spinning, dropping weight, dragging the line faster than it should.
“Hold on!” you gasp, not sure if you mean to her or to yourself.
The line finally snaps taut with a brutal jerk, halting your freefall just a few feet above the pavement. The world lurches as you both slip, momentum ripping you down the last stretch anyway.
You both hit the ground and roll, limbs tangled in a chaotic knot, her elbow jamming into your ribs as your harness bites in deep until eventually dust settles around you in a soft gray cloud.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
You just breathe each other’s air, stunned, alive, and shaking.
Natasha’s fist is still twisted in your vest, like letting go would send you both right back into the fire. Her forehead rests against your collarbone, chest heaving softly.
You press a trembling hand to her back, feeling her, real and warm, against you.
Eventually, she exhales a tiny, disbelieving laugh against your neck.
“…ow,” she groans, and then she rolls off you with a hiss of breath, flopping onto her back beside you on the pavement.
You turn your head toward her, still panting, before relief crashes over you so fast your vision blurs. You roll yourself to hover above her and grab her face with both hands, scanning for blood even as she blinks at you, dazed and sheepish and annoyingly beautiful, covered in soot.
“You—are absolutely insane,” you choke out, voice trembling. “You jumped out of a burning building with no plan.”
A faint smirk curves her lips.
“My plan was you.”
The knot in your chest unspools so fast your eyes sting. You grab her suit collar, pulling her toward you just enough to press a shaking kiss to her lips, tasting smoke and adrenaline and the dizzying relief of still having her.
Her fingers bury in the front of your suit like she needs you just as fiercely.
When you pull back, you rest your forehead against hers, trying to catch your breath.
“You deserve everything, Natasha,” you murmur, the words trembling out of you before you can temper them. You need her to feel it, not as a comfort, but as truth.
Her breath still comes ragged from the fall and the kiss, smoke streaked across her cheek, and her hair is still wild from the leap she never hesitated to take.
But the second the words leave your mouth, something in her stills. Then softens. That guarded tension she always holds, the armor she wears sometimes even in quiet moments, loosens like your voice unlocked it.
Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, they shine with that same stunned, fragile wonder she wore the first time she let herself believe you wanted her. The same disbelief, still there under the strength, but met now with a certainty she never used to have.
Natasha tilts her chin up, brushing the barest breath of a kiss to your lips.
“I know,” she whispers, voice breaking soft in a way she would never let anyone else hear. “I have it right here.”
And everything else — the sirens wailing, the cameras flashing, the roar of the collapsing building behind you — it all falls away.
All that matters in that moment is the two of you.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
The medical bay lights are dim, all machinery soft-humming, and shadows stretching long across sterile white. Your phone screen is the only bright thing in the room, painting your face in pale blue as you scroll lazily.
Natasha is warm along your side, tucked into you like she belongs there, head in the crook of your neck, one arm draped over your stomach beneath your shirt, fingers rubbing slow, absentminded circles into your skin. The faint throb of bruises reminds you of the fall, but having her weight pressed into you makes the ache feel like background noise.
As you mindlessly scroll, you eventually come across a headline, bold and impossible to ignore. A still shot accompanies it: soot-smeared faces, tangled harness straps, your hands bracketing her jaw, her lips caught against yours, chaos in the background.
Confirmed? A New Power Couple in the Avengers
You blink, startled, then huff a breath through your nose in amusement. Tilting your head, you nudge Natasha’s temple gently.
“Natasha…”
She groans, weariness coating her voice, and nestles deeper into your neck briefly before grudgingly lifting her head a few inches. Her tone is rough with exhaustion.
“What?”
You turn the screen slightly. “Look.”
Her eyes squint at the article blearily, then widen just enough to show she’s processing it. A beat passes. Then another. You brace for a reaction, a celebration maybe.
But instead, she merely exhales through her nose, unimpressed.
“Took them long enough,” she mutters.
“Well,” you tease softly, brushing your cheek against her hairline, “looks like the internet doesn’t think we’re just best friends anymore.”
Natasha lets out a delicate scoff and lowers her head dramatically back onto you, settling comfortably into your collarbone.
“I don’t care what the internet thinks anymore,” she mutters with practiced disinterest, though the softness in her tone betrays her. “I know the truth.”
You feel it this time in her words. You feel her believing it, truly this time. Your chest warms, thick with quiet affection, and you press a kiss to the crown of her head.
“Never doubt it,” you murmur into her hair.
Her answer is a soft hum, content and sure. She shifts down again, fitting herself perfectly against you.
“Now go to sleep. Once we pass Dr. Cho’s check-up tomorrow, we can finally leave this place and go home.”
You chuckle lowly, thumb brushing the back of her shoulder as you go to turn off your phone, except your thumb slips and the screen scrolls farther. A new post catches your eye.
“Huh,” you mumble, purely reflex, interest piqued.
Natasha shifts slightly, but her head doesn’t lift.
“What?” she asks, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
“Nothing,” you say quickly, far too suspiciously, locking the screen.
You don’t even get half a second before she pinches your side under the blanket. You yelp, twisting as she smirks against your neck.
“Natasha!”
Her voice is low, amused, and dangerous in that playful Russian spy way of hers.
“Tell me.”
You squirm, laughing quietly.
“Okay, okay—fine! It’s just—” you lift the phone again “—there’s a poll. People voting on who fell in love first.”
Natasha snorts immediately.
“The internet always finds something new to gossip about.” She shifts slightly, settling again with lazy confidence. “Besides, we already know the answer.”
You hum, nodding sagely. “We do.”
The phone is clicked off, and darkness returns to gentle quiet.
You settle in fully in the bed beside her and pull her closer, chin resting on her hair. Then, very casually, very innocently, you add.
“Obviously, I fell in love with you first.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Natasha lifts her head and hovers above you, brows raised. Her lips curl slowly and dangerously.
“No, you’re wrong,” she says. “I fell in love with you first.”
You blink at her, equal parts amused and incredulous.
“Are you seriously thinking you’re the one who fell first? When I asked you out?”
Her eyes narrow, but there’s a sparkle there, an unguarded warmth mingling with the challenge.
“I am not going to lie here,” she states, voice both velvet and steel, “and let you discredit my months of silently suffering and pining for you.”
A laugh bursts from you, soft and delighted. Your arms loop around her neck, pulling her down until your foreheads brush.
“Agree to disagree?” you whisper.
Natasha dips lower and presses a kiss to your jaw, a slow and lingering touch that pulls a soft exhale from you.
“Mmm…no.” She pulls back just enough to smirk against your skin. “It simply means I have to prove it.”
“Prove you loved me first?” you murmur, leaning up, brushing your lips against hers, breath catching.
She hums in confirmation, eyes half-lidded, voice dropping to a tender whisper that feels like a promise.
“Prove I love you more.”
A shiver runs down your spine at the quiet conviction in her tone. You tilt your mouth to hers, lips brushing softly.
“I can’t wait for the challenge,” you breathe against her.
Her smile is small and dangerous and impossibly soft all at once as she kisses you again, slow and gentle, claiming in a way not to win, but simply because she can.
Summary: Navigating jealousy was a hard thing to do for Natasha, because that would mean she also had to face the truth. But after Steve asked you out, she knew she had to do something about before she broke. Maybe the night will be her best ally.
you don’t have permission to translate/repost my work anywhere. Please be respectful. Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated. MDNI — Regina.
A/N: I’m sorry for the delay, you have no idea how many drafts I deleted before getting this the way I wanted. Highly offended that you guys liked the first chapter more than the second one hahaha :( Anyway, enjoy! ♡ see you guys soon and thank you for the support!
CHAPTER INSPIRED BY: Yo no soy celoso - Bad Bunny
Series masterlist || Main masterlist
Natasha Romanoff was not the jealous type.
She didn’t have to be. Girls fawned over her, fought for her attention, wanted to be hers even if it was just for a night and they always wanted for her to call back. The redhead was always the first choice, everyone else was a consolation prize.
So why on earth was this feeling running through her veins?
Jealousy was a powerful and uncomfortable feeling. It ignited every inch of her skin, made her ears ring and her heart beat so fast that she felt it was about to jump out of her chest.
The worst part was knowing she had no right to be jealous. You were just having sex, no feelings, no string attached and barely friends.
But watching you give Alexander your undivided attention, laughing at silly jokes and being curled up next to him as he played video games and you ordered food was driving her crazy.
After she fainted, Natasha regained consciousness just to find almond eyes looking at her with insufferable amusement and yours a little worried. So not only was she burning with jealousy, but she also got her ego shattered.
And she locked herself in her room, but your giggles reached her ears every time to the point she ended up putting on her headphones with the volume all up just to muffle the sound and probably her thoughts.
The presence of Alexander was rubbing her off, as if someone was stealing something from her, threatening to ruin whatever you two had.
The redhead fought every thought, of course she did. She didn’t own you, not even when the sex got hot and possessive and you claimed to be hers. But it was just that, sex with no attachments or serious commitment.
Natasha also didn’t have a lot of information about you, that was the only thing that made her feel a little justified about her feelings.
You were insanely private. She came to realise that every bit of yourself that she knew was because you wanted her to or because she observed.
Every time Natasha asked something, the immediate response would be a chuckle. Sometimes, you just pretended you didn’t hear her. Best case scenario, she got a short response that left no room for more.
It wasn’t like she needed to know everything or that she cared, Natasha was just curious — or that’s what she kept telling herself every time her heart fluttered when you actually gave her something.
That Saturday was probably the longest one in her entire life and not in a good way. She barely left her room, all of her friends were busy and honestly she was too caught up trying to bury her feelings that she didn’t want to go out.
By the time Alexander left, Natasha was already asleep but not even in her dreams was she left alone.
Over the previous days, Natasha started to dream about you and they weren’t exactly wet dreams. No, the redhead started just picturing silly moments around you. Dreams so soft and warm that every time she woke up, it was like she was given an energy shot.
Of course, she blamed the whole sex thing for your presence in those dreams. Not that you were relevant or something, her mind probably just chose you because you were now a constant in her life.
But that night, her dream — well, nightmare was entirely about you with Alexander.
The thing about nightmares was they tended to be clearer than a dream. She got under so much distress, that her own body started to react while she slept.
You hugged him and her fists clenched. You kissed his cheek and her jaw tightened. You looked at him with soft twinkling eyes full of love and devotion and her heart raced.
She woke up sweaty, tense and her heart hammering like never before. It was like dying in her sleep because with jealousy arrived that little and annoying voice in her head that chanted over and over again the same thing.
That should be me.
If only Natasha wasn’t so stubborn, if she only had the courage to face the truth, if only she wasn’t an idiot sometimes, maybe she would get what she wanted.
And that was a big maybe.
The other side of the coin, you, was as stubborn and stupid like Natasha Romanoff.
It was easy when you didn’t know Natasha that much. Having sex with someone that is known for refusing a serious commitment was easy because you didn’t think you could change her, you just went with it.
But days passed, months even, and fights happened but not as much, she started being around you more and you found out Natasha was someone easy to like and not because of her looks but because when her fuck girl facade wasn’t around, she actually was a smart and goofy human being.
Natasha walked around the world with a confidence that bordered arrogance. She was charming, flirty and sometimes too smart for her own good. She thrived on attention as much as you did, she loved the spotlight and she loved knowing how much people desired her.
However, behind the scenes when no one was watching and in the middle of her solitude, Natasha was soft and sweet. The redhead was the type of person to remember how you loved your coffee, to remind you to eat and to even sat and help you study when you struggled.
Natasha Romanoff was the ultimate golden retriever.
In so many ways she was just like you and at the same time so far away from the woman you were. She balanced you out, she pushed your buttons and they were always the right ones. It was like being around someone that knew you too well without trying really hard.
And that was the scary part because a different set of feelings started to ignite inside of you. They were quiet, not invasive but terrifying. And you forced yourself to believe it was friendship, it had to be and it would be.
Just as much as Natasha thought she had no right over you, you thought you had no chance into taming that woman.
You craved each other more than any of you wanted to admit and not just physically but in every other aspect.
Natasha didn’t stop fucking around, she just wasn’t doing it that much because you kept her satisfied — or that was what she told herself.
You sometimes let her hang a little more after sex because it would definitely be mean to kick her out when she just gave you a mind blowing orgasm, not because you liked the warmth of her body and the soft kisses she placed when you were wrapped in the sheets.
Natasha sometimes joined you during your time over the treadmill and you sometimes jumped into the ring as she tried to teach you how to spar.
You both were starting to hang more without noticing it; the sex kept happening but it wasn’t the main event now, it was a side effect, a benefit.
Again, two sides of the same coin. Stubborn, stupid and awfully terrified of facing the truth.
You both were falling in love.
(—)
Natasha started to be hyper-aware of people around you and their behaviour.
She knew you were college’s golden girl, the one everyone desired and couldn’t have and there was a little pride in being the one that managed to do it but they didn’t know that and Natasha couldn’t tell.
So she had to endure watching every ridiculous attempt of people trying to gain a little of your attention. And you, for someone that loved turning people down as if it was your pride and joy, were awfully kind with others.
In fact, the only one that got rejected and mocked around was Natasha. At least directly.
The rest got sweet smiles, sometimes pity looks and when they kept trying without taking a no for an answer they got mean comments wrapped in softness.
Honestly, you were the devil in disguise and as amusing as it was watching people try to get you, it was also infuriating.
Natasha couldn’t just walk right up to you and place her arm around you to scare them off. You probably would kill her if she did and she didn’t have the right to do it.
The redhead was doomed to only watch and sometimes break whatever that was on her hand.
It was a game changer when Steve Rogers decided to try his shot because he didn’t know Natasha and you were sleeping together, he also was Natasha’s friend and the redhead was about to lose her mind.
It was a beautiful Wednesday. You were wearing a sundress that almost made Natasha pass out again when you walked out of your room; mustard yellow with little white flowers that reached a little above the knee and had bows over the shoulder straps.
Your hair was up in a ponytail with soft locks falling and a yellow bow placed above it that made you look so innocent and so cute. And for once you weren’t wearing heels but sandals, making you look much tinier than you already were.
You were sitting at the outside stone tables next to Wanda and Pietro. The three of you were chatting, studying and having lunch since you had a free period and so did Natasha.
She was watching you from three tables away, listening to Clint and Steve talk as she pretended to be thinking about her essay when in reality she was just thinking about dragging you to the closest bathroom stall and lift that pretty dress.
Then, Steve said your name.
“Do you think she will say yes? I know my chances are very thin but she’s always so soft around me” Steve said with dreamy eyes, watching you giggle at whatever Pietro said.
Natasha looked at him and blinked like he just said the most stupid thing. And maybe it was, but it was also hard to know because you actually liked Steve, as a friend.
“I don’t know, man, you are already her friend” Clint said, barely looking from his notebook “She doesn’t date friends neither”
“Yeah, why trying? Girls actually like you, why her?” Natasha tried to sound casual, not like someone trying to push her friend as far away as she could from the girl she secretly liked.
Steve sighed “You live with her and you don’t see the appealing?” Natasha shrugged and Steve chuckled “It must be nice not catching feeling for someone. Well, she is really kind and smart”
“She is a bitch when she wants to” Natasha offered, gaining a glare from Steve and she smiled “I live with her, I see what you don’t”
Yeah, she saw what every other person in campus wanted. You naked and moaning her name, begging her to never stop. And your kind and smart self. But the statement was true too, you were a bitch when you wanted to.
“No, you just love to push her buttons” Clint chimed in, deciding his own essay was going nowhere with those two talking “When I tried, I saw her just as a pretty face. But she’s actually an amazing friend”
“That she is” Steve smiled softly and Natasha was about to break something “I’ll ask her out, worst case scenario she says no and I laugh and tell her it was just a joke”
“Or you could just ask another girl out. Heard Peggy Carter was asking about you” Natasha insisted and Steve furrowed his brows “She’s cute”
“You probably fucked her already” Steve retorted and Natasha shook her head.
“Not my type” she grinned and Clint snorted.
“Your type is anything that moves, Romanoff” Clint teased and she rolled her eyes “But the Peggy part is actually true, she asked about you”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see about that. In the meantime…” Steve stood up and Natasha jolted.
“Where are you going?” she rushed to ask and Steve just smirked.
“To try my shot” he shrugged.
Her ears started to ring and her heart started to race because not only was she jealous, but she was praying you broke Steve’s heart so she didn’t have to face her friend.
(—)
You said yes.
Natasha heard the awful news when Steve came back with a bright smile and asking her if he could borrow her bike. And the redhead forced a smile and said yes because what else was she supposed to say?
She tried to look as a supportive and proud friend when in reality, she was burning on the inside with anger and jealousy. Why on earth did you say yes?
In reality, you said yes because you didn’t know Steve meant it as a romantic date. On the contrary belief, you didn’t know about Steve’s crush on you. It might’ve been obvious to everyone but not you.
Steve was always so sweet and charming with everyone, not just you. He was a gentleman with every woman, the type that stood up when a girl arrived to the table, the type that opened doors and not once did he look at their ass.
He was your friend and you cared for him as such, how would you know that he was interested in you when he behaved with you just like he did with everyone else?
By the time Natasha arrived home after a long and endless sparring session. She didn’t even tried to fuck you earlier and let you leave for dance practice. She needed to blow out some steam before she actually picked a fight with her friend.
You were curled up watching TV, still wearing your sundress and Natasha wondered what you wore for dance practice. Amelia was gone and the only thing keeping you company was some iced tea and your show.
“Watching TV on a Wednesday night? Did someone die?” Natasha teased, sitting next to you not close but enough.
You flipped her off “So funny. I actually finished everything. You are just late”
Natasha snatched your tea from your hand and ignored your glare as she took a sip and placed it over the coffee table.
“So sweet, were you waiting for me?” she grinned and you snorted.
She was right, you just didn’t want to admit that.
“I was enjoying the silence as I tried to catch up with my show” you shrugged and slid closer to her “Now that you are here, it’s over”
“For someone so smart, you enjoy Love Island too much” she also moved closer and her hand landed over your thigh “Mind if I change the show?”
Your eyes looked down, calloused fingers caressing your thigh and damping your underwear because Natasha had that effect on you.
Lately, her touch, her scent, her voice even turned you on faster than anything. Your body buzzed with need when she was around and as much as you wanted to turn it off, it wasn’t happening so you just went with it.
“Sure, I’ll head to bed” you murmured and she looked at you “What? Are you trying to have a movie night, roomie?”
“Why not? Roomies also do that, right?” she whispered and you hummed “Want popcorn?”
“I’m fine but if you go to the kitchen I want more tea, please” you asked softly and she nodded.
There was also that domestic routine between you. Natasha learned to clean after herself immediately after Wanda mentioned how much you struggled with things being out of place. You let her borrow your special blanket and sometimes cooked for her, although Natasha was the better cook.
You helped each other, sometimes had silent study sessions and you even had full weekends around each other as if going out pained you too much to leave the house when in reality, you just wanted to hang a little more.
Natasha came back with your iced tea refilled and some popcorn for her. You raised a brow at her lack of drink for herself and she smirked.
“We are sharing”
“No, we are not” you smacked her hand away when she tried to grab your cup “Stop it, it’s mine”
“Learn to share, princess” she tried again and you moved your hand away “You will spill it and you will make me clean”
“Then stop trying” you grunted and she laughed “Get your own tea”
“Yours tastes better” she insisted and finally grabbed your cup, although she was sure you let her win “Horror or comedy?”
“Surprise me” you said defeated as you grabbed your blanket.
Natasha picked whatever movie she found first, it really didn’t matter when you were looking so hot next to her and her mind started imagining how well the movie night could end if she played her cards right.
However, you weren’t paying so much attention since your phone kept buzzing. At first, Natasha didn’t mind. Then, she peeked just a little when you giggled and saw Steve’s name on the screen.
She faked a yawn and wrapped an arm around you and you snorted as she pulled you closer. Her body buzzing with jealousy and possessiveness, fighting the need to throw your phone away.
“Subtle” you teased, not minding when her arm secured you closer to hers and you locked your phone as you rested your head over her shoulder “Look at us, being decent around each other”
“Yeah, it’s easier when you are not being a bitch” she teased and you punched her abdomen making her wince.
“And you ruined the moment” you straightened up and went back to your phone. Natasha’s jaw tightened when you opened again your conversation with Steve and she took away your phone “Hey! That’s mine”
“We are watching a movie, be respectful” she retorted as you rolled your eyes and she pulled you closer again “I heard you are going out with Steve, do you think that’s a good idea?”
You furrowed your brows and looked at her with confusion. Natasha’s fingers curling on your side as if you were about to vanish from her side. But her scent was clouding your judgement, being so close to her was enough to make you lose reason when she smelled so good after a workout.
“Why wouldn’t it be? If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are jealous” you murmured, resting your head again on her chest unaware of her tensed state at your words “He is my friend”
“He is in love with you” she said sternly and you looked at her, snorting “I’m serious”
“Aw look at you, being a protective friend over Steve” you grinned and Natasha rolled her eyes “He is not, he is just being nice” your hand started caressing her thigh, moving up and making her lose focus for a moment “Besides” your hand wrapped around her cock and started rubbing it over her sweatpants “I don’t date, you know that and he knows that”
Natasha moaned, her dick reacting instantly at your motions and you smirked. Her grip tightened around you and her blood kept boiling with jealousy when she imagined you doing the exact same thing to Steve.
“I don’t think he knows” she breathed out and you raised a brow.
“And I don’t think you should care that much” you pointed out and tugged the waistband of her sweatpants “If I misread his intentions, I will let him know”
You knelt in front of her and Natasha’s mind felt hazy. You tugged her sweatpants down and your tiny hand wrapped around her length, jerking her off to get her fully hard.
But she kept picturing you with him, with Alexander, with every person that dared to talk to you. The sight was getting her hard but her skin kept buzzing trying to rip out the truth from her throat.
“I don’t think you should go out with him” she whimpered when you licked the tip and doe eyes looked at her.
“Stop talking about Steve, it’s turning me off” you said sternly.
Your tongue traced a line from the top to the base and Natasha moaned. You smirked as your hand kept pumping her and the redhead tossed her head back when you wrapped your lips around her cock.
Natasha always got impressed by your skills. You were the only one that gave her a proper blowjob, the one that had the power to make her see stars and last so little.
Her hand fisted your ponytail and helped you bobbed your mouth, gagging noises muffling a little her own mind as she tried to focus on you and not the feeling that was burning in the pit of her stomach.
Was Steve going to have the privilege of learning about your skills too? Would you kneel in front of him like you did with her?
She pushed you down with more force, trying to remind you that she was better, so much better. And you tried to relaxed your throat, choking on her cock as your skin flushed and tears pricked in your eyes.
You tapped her thigh when your lungs started burning and tears rolled down your cheeks but Natasha was barely there, her mind driving her body to claim you in the only way she could.
Natasha wasn’t your girlfriend, she didn’t want to be, but in bed she should be the only one that could ruin you and she was planning on that.
You forced yourself up, mascara ruined and a string of saliva left behind as Natasha moaned at your sight. You didn’t say anything, you were loving the strength and the power she had.
You moved your hand up and down, eyes focused on Natasha as her grip tightened around your ponytail. Then you went back to suck her dick and she jerked her hips up, fucking your mouth with purpose, listening to your gagging noises and praying that Steve would never hear them. No, they were for her ears only.
Doe eyes met darkened green eyes and maybe if you weren’t so turned on, you would see the jealousy that were clouding them. The way Natasha’s features were hardened by the need to claim you as hers and only hers.
“Will you do this to him?”
The words left her lips before she could register them and you only moaned, vibrations sending pleasurable waves up her body and she stood up with your mouth wrapped around her.
She took off her tee, tossing it somewhere over the floor, the movie playing on the background and her abdomen on display just for your eyes only as she fucked your mouth.
“Do you think he will know how to properly fuck your slutty mouth?”
Your mouth popped around the tip, her dick almost resting against your cheek and almost as big as your small head as your hands moved up and down and your eyes were drunk on her.
Maybe her words shouldn’t turn you on as much as they were doing it, maybe they should be flaring alarms in your mind and making you stop but they were doing quite the opposite. They were making you wet, electrifying your skin with need and you wanted more.
But the reason was that you thought they weren’t real, you were lacking to see that Natasha meant them. As if she was role playing thinking you would actually sleep with her friend, as if the jealousy was just coming out to play to turn you on and not because she was losing her mind.
Because Natasha couldn’t be seriously jealous, right?
Natasha Romanoff jealous of someone else getting their hands on you sounded ridiculous. That would mean she’s catching feelings and Natasha had very proudly announced to the world she would never do it, no one would ever chain her into monogamy.
As they say, never say never.
“Maybe I should try it, don’t you think?” you provoked her, trying to get more of the same reaction from her.
Her jaw tightened and she pushed your mouth back in place, your eyes rolling back and she kept fucking your mouth. Her forehead sweaty and her hips moving desperately.
You were playing. She was not.
“No, you won’t” she said through gritted teeth, her face red with anger and you moaned “You are my slut, only mine”
You moved back, pre-cum and drool dripping down your chin as you looked at her with eyes darkened by desire. You loved when Natasha treated you like that, possessive and commanding. When she degraded you instead of feeding your ego with hollow praises.
“Then show me, Nat. Or I will let him ruin me before you can”
Natasha growled and pulled you up. Usually, she was more gentle when manhandling you but that night she really couldn’t care less about your well-being when you were fuelling her anger.
She captured your lips in a claiming and possessive kiss, moving with desperation and anger as her feelings pulled her mind in every direction. Your fingers tangled with her hair as she undid your ponytail and then her lips moved down to your jaw and then your neck.
In a swift move, she sat on the sofa with you straddling her lap. Her teeth sinking in your skin and her lips sucking with purpose. You moaned, too drunk on the moment to actually stop her because Natasha had never marked you until that night.
Her hands ran up your thighs, sneaking under your dress and hooking her fingers on the waistband of your underwear. You stood up to take them off quickly and went back to position as she went back to mark you.
You were grinding your hips as she undid the bows over your shoulder straps and left a trail of bruises down your neck onto your collarbone and then down your chest.
You weren’t wearing a bra that day and maybe she would’ve made a snarky comment about it but she only felt more jealous, thinking that anyone could’ve seen your hardened nipples or down your cleavage when she should be the only one.
Natasha moved her hands onto your ass, lifting your dress up around your waist and hands squeezing your naked ass making you moan even more.
An idea ran through her mind and she moved you around, bending you over her knee with your ass in the air and you whimpered.
“You know, maybe I should be more rough with you” her fingers caressing your soft skin and then the first slap came, making you whimper and trying to stand up but she held you down “None of that, princess. You want to be a slut, then let’s treat you like one”
Another spank came on your other ass-cheek and your fists clenched as you bit your lip, skin burning and your slick dripping down your thighs.
“Natasha, that hurts” but you moaned as she smacked your ass again.
“You seem to like it” she smirked and continued “He is my friend, you know? Imagine how heartbroken he will be when he finds out I’m the one that fills you up”
At some point, between slaps, you stopped fighting and your body started leaning back seeking more. The line between pleasure and pain already blurred. Your head lolled against her thigh as she continued, her own dick aching against her abdomen at your sight.
“Daddy, please” you moaned, your mind barely registering your words and she chuckled.
“Daddy, hm? Much more kinkier than I thought” she mocked and your cheeks flushed, but before you could take your words back, she pushed two fingers inside of you and your knees clasped together as you whimpered “So fucking wet, is it because of me or him?”
“Please, Nat-“ you grunted when she pumped her fingers and her other hand slapped your ass “Oh, fuck”
“No Nat. It’s daddy now, princess” she commanded and you moaned at her words, pushing your hips back for her to continue “Answer me, does thinking about him make you this wet?” you mewled as her fingers moved faster, hands trying to grab whatever was around you to ground yourself “Answer, princess, or I will stop”
“N-no, he doesn’t” you cried out, your abdomen tightening as your nails scratched her leg “I’m wet because of you, daddy” she pumped faster and her thumb reached your clit, rubbing fast and you moaned “Please, I’m so close”
“I know you are because I know your body” she reminded you and you whimpered “No one knows your body the way I do, keep that in mind” your toes curled, legs moving desperately as she worked between your legs and her other hand fisted your hair, pulling you up “Come, princess, make a mess around my fingers”
And you did, your ears ringing as you screamed out her name. She slowed down her movements as you were panting and then you watched her lick her fingers clean and you collapsed against her legs.
“That was…” but Natasha cut you off, moving you up and taking off your dress. She sat you on her lap, your back facing her chest “Nat, I need a… Fuck” she whimpered as she rubbed her cock against your slit and when you looked down, you watched her slid inside of you with ease as you tried to steady yourself with her shoulders “Don’t m-“
Natasha wasn’t waiting, her fingers hooked around your hips and helping you bounce on her. You whined and that would usually be enough for her to slow down but she was driven with her own need to ruin you.
“He’s probably not as big as me” she murmured in your ear, one hand wrapped around your throat and pulling you back. Your head resting against her shoulder as she slid down to move her hips more freely “Not as good as me. You hear that?” your slick was dripping, moist noises filling the room along with the movie credits and you moaned, hiding your face in the crook of her neck with shame “He won’t do that to you, princess”
“Please, don’t stop” you murmured against her neck and you sucked on her neck making her whimper “Nat-“ she slapped your thigh and you whimpered “Daddy, please, I’m so close again” you whined.
She forced you to turn your face as much as you could to kiss you as her fingers rubbed your clit once again. You could feel her cock twitching inside of you but Natasha didn’t seem anywhere close to come.
No, Natasha needed to ruin you all night and she would do so until your date with Steve or at least until you dropped the idea of going out with him. Whatever happened first.
You bit her lip forcefully and she grunted, feeling the way you clenched around her. Your arm hooked around her head, pulling her closer to your lips as you kissed and moaning against her lips as you came again, your body shuddering over hers as she held you down.
She stopped moving but didn’t pull out and you were too tired to ask her to move. Natasha kissed the back of your neck as you panted and her hands caressed your body.
“How is it that you haven’t cum?” you murmured and Natasha chuckled, helping you up and turning you around and making you straddle her hips again “Am I losing my magic?”
“On the contrary, your magic is working way too well” she whispered and you weren’t sure if she was talking about sex but she silenced your mind by kissing you again “Let’s go to bed, I’m not finished with you yet”
“Nat, we have class tomorrow” you tried to excuse yourself but she was already standing up with your body wrapped around her and walking to her room “I thought it was my bed’s turn, I won’t be able to walk back when you are done”
“Who said you have to leave?” she said tossing you onto her bed and getting rid of her clothes “Who said I’m not keeping you up all night?”
Natasha hovered your body and your legs spread instinctively, both moaned when she buried herself again inside of you and you cradled her face.
“You better not” you whimpered when she started thrusting herself and your back arched “Fuck, I really love your cock”
Natasha kissed your neck because three words threatened to leave her lips. Three words, eight letters that were too dangerous to say out loud when she was drunk on you and jealousy. When her mind was too hazy to think straight.
She wanted to believe they were a lie, but they were too heavy on her tongue. And all she wanted to say was:
‘And I love you’
(—)
You were looking at yourself in the mirror of your vanity desk, groaning as you applied makeup over the bruises Natasha kept leaving.
You tried to stop her but trying to stop someone from marking you as they fucked you was nearly impossible, specially when you were loving it a little too much.
So now you were stuck at taking a little more time covering them up and Natasha was hating it because you were supposed to wear them proudly, not hide them. Still, she said nothing and kept marking you until you gave up on trying to cover them.
“Could you give me a ride to campus?” Natasha asked leaning on your doorframe and you raised a brow, looking at her through the mirror “Steve borrowed my bike”
“There’s public transportation or you could just walk” you shrugged and she walked up to you, leaning to kiss your neck and you smacked her thigh “No, I’m doing my makeup. Stop”
“But you love when I do it” she grinned and you rolled your eyes “Come on, give me a ride and I will make up for it”
She pouted and you snorted even when you thought she looked extremely cute with those green puppy eyes.
“Fine, but I drive. Not eating in the car and I swear if your dirty boots leave a mess-“
“You will cut off my dick, yeah I know the drill” she pecked your cheek and your blushed “Movie night?”
“Rain check? I’m going out with Steve, remember?” you smiled softly and her jaw tightened but she nodded “That reminds me, you will have to drive my car from the gym. Could you do that?”
“What? Why? Aren’t you coming home after dance practice?” she said frowning, taking in your outfit.
You were wearing a black skirt, a soft pink blouse and heels. Your hair was down and wavy and you were putting on earrings. Your left wrist had a single silver bracelet and you were wearing rings.
You were dressing up for him.
“No, Steve will pick me up at the academy” you stood up and fixed your clothes “How do I look?” you turned to face her and her dick twitched when her eyes landed on your cleavage, you were wearing a push-up not that you needed it but that was too much for a friend date as you claimed it was “Eyes up here, idiot”
“Isn’t it too much? I mean you look-“ she bit her lip, taking a second to check you out again “fine, but you put too much effort into a date that you claim it’s not a date”
“Just fine? What’s wrong with this?” you looked down and grunted “You know what? I don’t have time to change. Let’s go” you ushered her out of your room, not before grabbing your backpack that Natasha immediately snatched from you and you decided to let her carry it “And for your information, I don’t dress for anyone. I dress for myself”
Natasha hummed, mumbling a ‘I hope so’ that you didn’t catch.
The both of you went to the parking lot in silence, moving around each other as if it was a practiced dance. Your perfume hit Natasha, intoxicating her senses as she sat on the passenger seat after you made her take off her boots and she groaned.
The interior was white, you had a point but that didn’t mean Natasha would go down without a fight. And it was spotless, it always was.
All the times Natasha was inside of your car was to fuck so she barely paid attention to details. But your car not only smelled like you, it looked like you.
Ordered and somehow, girlie. It was like you had everything you needed in case of an emergency, everything correctly placed for quick usage.
She watched you buckle your seatbelt, checked the rear-view mirror three times, connect your phone to the car and searched for your driving playlist and after picking the correct song, you started the car.
And Natasha thought of teasing you, but you probably were like that all the time without noticing it and she knew better by now not to mock your rituals.
You got out of the building and Natasha just tapped her fingers to the music. It was probably the first time she had listened to it, you were always wearing headphones around the apartment or during your morning run so she never got the chance.
And of course you were into pop music. But when Muse started to sound, she looked at you.
“‘Stockholm Syndrome’, seriously?” she looked at you surprised and you shrugged as you stopped at a red light “What else you got in there?”
“I like to think that a little of everything?” you handed her your phone unlocked “You can pick the next one but only from there, it’s my morning playlist”
“Of course it is” she chuckled and looked through the playlist, names that she had never heard of showing on the screen and she found one song with the title in Spanish “‘Yo no soy celoso’ by Bad Bunny, who the fuck is that dude?”
“Puerto Rican singer, helps with spanish although it’s not the best accent to learn from but his music is cute” you smiled and she played the song “I wish I got tickets to his concert”
“He isn’t that bad but concert worthy? Come on” she teased you and you glanced at her with a smirk.
“He is hot” Natasha rolled her eyes and placed your phone down “And I really like his music”
Natasha hummed, the lyrics almost making sense to her as she searched for him in her phone. He was handsome but she was better.
She grunted under her breath because she was doing it again, comparing herself to anyone that you might like.
The music got interrupted by your phone ringing and Natasha swore the universe had something against her when Alexander’s name popped in the screen with a white heart next to it.
“Rise and shine, sunshine” he greeted you cheerfully “I assume you are already on your way to college. How’s the roomie treating you?”
“Said roomie is listening to you” you announced carefully, ignoring Natasha’s questioning look and searching for a place to park “Are you on your way to yours, baby?”
Natasha rolled her eyes at the pet name, looking outside the window as you parked. Her fingers twitching over her thighs at the sound of your sweet dripping tone.
“Not today, I will visit during your free period” he announced and you hummed “Make sure Wands is there”
“Of course you will come to visit me to see her” you chuckled and Natasha raised a brow “I gotta go. See you later, my love”
“See you later, beautiful” he hung up and you unbuckled your seatbelt but Natasha remained still.
Green eyes were looking at you in confusion and you furrowed your brows when you looked at her.
“What?” you asked as you reached for your backpack that was in the backseat.
“Are you in an open-relationship or something?” she asked slowly, hands barely managing to unbuckle her seatbelt as she opened the door to put on her boots.
“What?” you chuckled, leaving the car with phone in hand and your backpack in one shoulders “Why would you think that?”
You both started walking towards the campus and she fought her hand when it almost moved to grab yours. Not her girlfriend, just friends.
“Isn’t Alexander your boyfriend or something?” she insisted and you stopped walking, starting to laugh really loud. You bent down, holding your abdomen and your backpack falling from your shoulder “What’s so funny?” she asked sternly, grabbing your backpack and you looked at her, wiping tears away.
“You thought Alec was my boyfriend?” you laughed walking next to her.
“You call him ‘my love’” she gritted her teeth and you kept giggling “Stop it!”
“I’m sorry, I’m trying” you said between laughs and Natasha rolled her eyes “Alec is…” a chuckle left your lips and you inhaled sharply, trying to regain composure “he’s my little brother, his pictures are all around the apartment”
Natasha stopped moving and you looked at her, laughter slowly dying down as you kept preventing tears from ruining your makeup and she looked at you dumbfounded.
“What?!” she said stunned and you giggled.
“I know right? He looks older” you shrugged and took your backpack away from her “And he also looks more like mother”
You started walking away and she ran after you once the shock left her body. Well, that was a relief. But Steve was still an issue.
“And you call him ‘my love’?”
“Don’t you have a sibling, Romanoff?” she hummed but shrugged “Well, we are one year apart and we bonded very deeply after our parents divorce. So we treat each other as that, unless he is messing with me”
“And the Wanda thing…”
“He has a crush on her, I’ll appreciate if you don’t mention it to her” you said seriously, putting on your protective big sister mask and she swallowed “I tease him about it but I won’t snitch on my own brother. Well, great talk! See you in Spanish”
You felt the need to kiss her and she saw the moment you hesitated, stepping closer to kiss you too. But you squeezed her arm tenderly and offered her a soft smile.
She watched you walk away, her legs glued to the concrete and her heart beating fast. But this time, it wasn’t because of jealousy but because she really wished you kissed her goodbye. And she wasn’t sure what terrified her the most:
Thinking someone could be the lucky person to get to kiss you goodbye or that she wanted to be that someone.
(—)
The redhead kept looking at the clock, as if the time would slow down and she could keep you at the gym. But no, it was actually running fast. Too fast.
Her coach was telling her something during her sparring session, but her ears were ringing as the time passed. You were lifting weights and her eyes kept glancing at you. Her mind running every damn idea of how she could keep you there and knowing already how much you hated to be late when your schedule had to be followed down to the dot.
So there was only a thing she could do. Literally, the only thing she could give you so Steve couldn’t cross the line that night.
For you, you were just two friends hanging out. For Steve and Natasha, that was a fucking date and the only one that couldn’t see that was you.
And she dropped the idea of telling you about it because you kept laughing and teasing her about her being just jealous. And she was losing it.
You started to walk to the lockers after your last exercise and Natasha took off her gloves as Phil watched her with amusement.
“I’ll be back, I just need a break” she panted and he hummed, holding back his laughter.
Natasha got off the ring and almost ran to the lockers, searching for you and knowing that lately your locker was next to hers. Not that she asked to be moved there or at least she wouldn’t tell you that she did.
You jolted when she appeared and she grinned, pushing your body back to the lockers. Hands roaming your body as she pressed her chest to your back and your body reacted to her movements.
“Romanoff, I really have to go” you moaned as she cupped your clothed cunt “Natasha”
“Just a quickie, I’m in the mood” she asked and you turned around.
“You are not even hard” but your legs wrapped around her hips and you moaned when she kissed your neck.
“I just need a minute, princess” she whispered and kissed you desperately.
It was a hot and steamy kiss, one that left your lips swollen as she was grinding her hips against yours and making you moan against her mouth.
You heard footsteps and broke the kiss, moving your legs away and Natasha grunted as you pushed her away with your cheeks flushed and smiling softly when a woman walked past you, offering you a suspicious look.
“Yeah, not happening today” you breathed out and patted her arm “Maybe later if you are up when I get back to the apartment” you turned around and handed her your car keys “Not a single scratch, Romanoff”
“Yeah, sure” she mumbled and you looked at her with furrowed brows.
“What’s wrong with you?” you tilted your head to the side, noticing the way her muscles were stiffened and her features hardened.
“Nothing” she replied instantly and you hummed, squinting your eyes “I’m serious, I’ll just take care of this. You can go”
“Okay…” you said slowly and sighed “See you later, Romanoff”
You closed your locker and started going to the showers and Natasha wanted to follow, not only because she was hard now but because she needed you not to leave.
Although, there wasn’t really much she could do to stop you from going out with Steve. She didn’t know where you went to dance practice nor she had the right and the only way would be telling you the truth but she wasn’t so sure you would believe her anyway.
She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, either.
(—)
Steve arrived to the academy right on time, just like you liked.
After your third shower of the day and redoing your makeup perfectly, or so you thought, you left the building with a bright smile and your duffle bag. But you scrunched your nose when you noticed he was leaning back on a motorbike, your mind immediately trying to figure out how the hell were you supposed to ride that death trap with your duffle bag.
“Hey, cutie. Looking good” he greeted you and offered you a helmet “How was practice?”
“Good. Tell me we are not riding that thing” you said pursing your lips and his cheeks flushed “Wait, is that Natasha’s bike?”
“Yeah, I wanted to impress you” he muttered and you bit the inside of your cheek before you could say something mean “We can take an uber if you like?”
“No, it’s okay” you sighed and smiled softly at him “I should’ve worn jeans though”
“You look perfect” he pecked your cheek and grabbed your duffle bag “I’ll carry this” you opened your mouth to decline but he smiled “I insist, please”
You nodded and watched him get on the motorbike, helping you up and you wrapped your arms around his waist trying to maintain a respectful distance between your bodies and praying that the wind wouldn’t lift your skirt.
You had never been on a motorbike nor was it on your plans to do so since you could easily get injured. But what wouldn’t you do for friends that were making an effort to spend time with you?
Steve started driving, the motor humming underneath you and your grip tightened when he sped up. You should be feeling safe with him, but your heart was racing at every turn he took, your ears ringing and all you wanted now was to go back to the safety of your apartment.
By the time you stopped in front of an Italian restaurant, you thought you were about to kiss the sidewalk or puke. Thankfully, you didn’t do either.
You followed Steve inside the restaurant and thanked him when he dragged a chair for you, placing your duffle bag over the chair across from you and sitting next to you.
And then, Natasha’s words started making sense.
Steve ordered for you, which you hated with all your heart because you sure wouldn’t eat a whole lasagna by yourself nor you were a fan of beer but he insisted that it was the perfect match.
And he made small talk, trying to ease you as you forced yourself to eat the whole thing because you sure wouldn’t be bringing it back home and weren’t comfortable enough to ask Steve to finish it for you. Lately, only Wanda and Natasha did it for you.
By dessert, you were sure you were about to vomit but you weren’t so sure if it was because of the food or because Steve was being annoyingly sweet and now you had to come up with something to let him down slowly without losing his friendship.
“So? Did you like the lasagna?” he asked after the waiter left, leaving a strudel between you with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that Steve ordered.
“Yeah, it was great” you lied and he smiled proudly, pushing the plate towards you and you raised your hand “No, please. You start, I think I’m full”
“Come on, cutie! I know you are on a strict diet but count this as your cheat day” he insisted and your head started spinning, he clearly didn’t know about your schedule either and you couldn’t blame him for it.
“Sure, just one bite” you forced a smile and took a small piece “Yeah, that’s good” you lied again.
It wasn’t that the food was bad, it was that your tongue probably died after that much sugar and your mind kept repeating that you needed to stop or you would gain weight.
“You know, I thought you were going to turn me down” he admitted after a few minutes “I guess I’m the luckiest guy in the world now” you choked on your water and looked at him, cleaning your mouth with your cloth napkin.
“What?” you chuckled nervously, knowing damn well where that was going and still trying to play dumb “Why would I turn you down, Steve? You are my friend”
“I know, I know” he sighed with a sheepish smile “But I was hoping we could be more than that, that’s why I asked you out”
So Natasha was right. You were the only fool that didn’t know about Steve’s crush on you. Maybe you were aware and decided to ignore it or maybe you were really blind, but whatever it was it got you into that mess.
“Listen, Steve…”
“Wait, what’s that?” he asked lifting your chin gently and you frowned “Is that a hickey?”
Your cheeks flushed instantly. You forgot one spot, apparently. And now Steve knew someone was leaving bruises all over your skin. Not just someone, but Natasha. Although, Steve didn’t need to know that small detail.
“I- well-“ you stuttered, your mind running as fast as it could, you drank your water and your stomach started aching for the sudden amount of food and drinks “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about” you said softly, grabbing his hand and he furrowed his brows “I- I’m seeing someone”
“What?! But you accepted a date with me” he asked hurt and a little angry “Why would you do that?”
“Steve, I thought we were hanging out as friends” you explained and he snatched his hand away, as if your touch burned him “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know”
“How could you not know? I’ve been fawning over you for over a year” he gritted his teeth and you grimaced, unused to Steve being so hard on you “I asked you out”
“You never said this was a date” you pointed out and sighed “Steve, this doesn’t change anything…”
“No, it does. I feel like you played with me” he said coldly and you restrained yourself from rolling your eyes “Does your boyfriend know you are here with me?” he asked sternly and you pursed your lips.
Honestly, there was no boyfriend but the owner of those bruises did know you were there. However, your silence made Steve scoff.
“She does” you rushed to say and he raised a brow “I told her”
“It’s a she” he breathed out, his ego a little hurt that a woman was faster than he was, luckier even “Do I know her?”
Natasha’s name was threatening to roll out of your tongue but not only would you be lying about it, you would be dragging her into the mud with you and as much as it would be fun to watch her suffer a little, that wasn’t your type of thing.
“No, I don’t think so” you mumbled and he sighed “I’m really sorry”
“Yeah, whatever” he called a waiter over and asked for the check “I tried for nothing” he said coldly and you frowned.
“What? You were just being my friend to get something from me?” you stood up and reached for your duffle bag, searching for your wallet and threw some cash over the table “Honestly, Steve, I thought you were different. I said I was sorry but now you are just being an asshole”
“That’s not- don’t turn the tables on me” he defended and you glared at him “I tried to do this the right way, unlike Natasha that I know you don’t like”
“You know what? I think I like Natasha better” you said sternly “At least she’s honest about what she wants. But you? You thought a dinner would get you into my bed” you snorted and he tightened his jaw “I rather sleep with her knowing she won’t call back instead of being friends with someone that just wanted to fuck me”
And before he could reply or apologise, because honestly he was just frustrated by the situation, you left the restaurant and called an uber.
You should’ve listened to Natasha, but a part of you was too caught up in the possessive sex and the hope that not everyone wanted to actually fuck you to listen.
And you also were wrong. Because Natasha wasn’t being entirely honest about what she wanted.
At least, not anymore.
(—)
By the time you arrived to the building and much to your displease, Steve arrived too.
He went back to leave Natasha’s bike and you wanted to curse at the redhead for letting him borrow her bike but it wasn’t her fault.
And the universe was mocking you at that point because he slid inside the elevator before it went up. He scratched his neck nervously as you kept your distance from him with folded arms and your jaw clenched.
He cooled down after you left, knowing the type of asshole he was but when he tried to talk you raised your hand without looking at him and he decided to shut up because honestly, what else could he do to make it better?
You opened the door and slammed it behind you, right into his face and making Natasha jolt on the sofa. She opened her mouth to talk but you didn’t even look at her, leaving her to open the door when Steve knocked and running to your bathroom.
You hated inducing vomit but not only were you upset because of Steve but the food was killing you. So you knelt in front of the toilet and pushed two fingers inside of your mouth, thinking of the nastiest things because god cursed you with no gag reflex that apparently was only useful when giving Natasha a blowjob.
But you managed, emptying your insides right into the toilet and the smell was enough to keep going with more effort.
Natasha, on the other hand, met a very distraught Steve that silently gave her the keys back and refused to tell her what the hell happened. So he just left and Natasha frowned, going after you.
Her heart dropped when she heard you puking because Wanda never said anything about you getting rid of food. She sprinted across your room, going through your closet and reaching the bathroom.
She opened the door without knocking and you were holding your hair up and she scrunched her nose at the smell but stayed strong before joining you.
“That bad, huh?” she said softly and you flipped her off “Hey, it’s not me who ruined your date”
“Romanoff, go away” you grunted and puked again.
Natasha leaned closer and you tried to push her away, but there was no way she was going to leave you alone.
Maybe she wasn’t going to stop you from doing it, even if she knew what a bad that was, but she was going to stay next to you.
So she held your hair and rubbed circles on your back, looking over her shoulder as her own insides were threatening to come out.
“The food was probably bad, right?” she offered when you rested your cheek over your hand and she handed you some toilet paper.
“Yeah, let’s go with that. Thank you” you said softly and flushed the toilet, cleaning your mouth and walking to the sink “Whatever you are doing here, I’m not in the mood”
“I can tell” she shrugged and leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded as you brushed your teeth “Want to tell me what happened?”
You spat on the sink and looked at her “Playing nice won’t get you fucked tonight”
“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually trying to be a nice person?” she asked offended and you hummed as you washed your mouth “Well, start believing it. In fact, I’ve got an idea”
You raised a brow, drying your mouth as you looked at her. The redhead was grinning and she showed you her bike keys.
“No, I’m not getting on that thing again” you said walking out of your bathroom and she followed you, grabbing your arms before you could pick your pyjamas “Natasha”
“Come on, it will be fun” she said softly and placed a kiss over your temple. And you decided to ignore the softness of the moment, relaxing when her arms wrapped around you “It’s Friday night, you are clearly upset and just puked your dinner. What else could go wrong?”
“Dying on that death trap” you groaned and she laughed “It was my first time on one and my last”
“Steve probably doesn’t know how to properly drive” and Natasha noticed the way your body tensed at the mention of her friend but decided to wait “Come on, I promise I will be gentle. If you don’t like my plan, we won’t fuck for a week”
You snorted “Yeah, how is that a punishment for you? You will fuck with someone else”
“I won’t, you can cage my dick if you want” she grinned when you turned around and raised a brow.
“Kinky” you teased and sighed “Fine, but let me change my skirt” she pouted and you shook your head “I will get on that thing wearing jeans, not a skirt”
“Fine but I want you to know I’m highly offended. I’ll wait for you by the door” she smiled and left the room.
You changed your skirt, looking for some baggy jeans that you only wore around the apartment and somehow managed to turn on Natasha.
Well, at this point you could be dressed as a nun and Natasha would be all over you but you didn’t know that.
You washed your mouth again and searched for some bubblegum to appease your stomach. By the time you reached the door, Natasha was already holding a backpack and refused to tell you why.
You should be sleeping, your routine was exact except for the times Natasha was fucking you. But after the night you had, some part of you wanted to just curl up in bed. However, a bigger part of you wanted to be around Natasha and that was starting to scare you.
Natasha offered you the backpack and you looked at her in disbelief.
“You brought it and now you want me to carry it?” you scolded her and she grinned as you took it “Unbelievable”
“Well, do you know how to ride?” you shook your head and she shrugged “I’ll buy something to keep things okay? Just this once”
Unlike Steve, Natasha took the time to place the helmet around you with care. Securing it and double checking it was properly placed. Then she got up after placing hers and helped you up.
Your arms wrapped around her waist but you didn’t keep your distance like you did with Steve, your body pressed against hers and she noticed you were slightly shaking.
“If I go too fast, pinch my side and I’ll slow down” she said and you hummed.
And she started to drive.
At first, your body was tense but Natasha was right, Steve probably didn’t know how to ride. Or maybe it wasn’t about knowing how but about the driver, you weren’t sure. But you started to relax around her, safety surrounding you as the wind hit your face mixed with Natasha’s scent.
Not once did you feel like your heart was about to jump out of your chest, you actually enjoyed the ride with your chin resting over her shoulder and she was smiling softly.
She rode all the way to Coney Island. When she stopped, she offered you her hand to help you down and then she got down herself, taking her helmet out and you swore she looked hotter.
Then she took off yours and held the helmets with one arm and hung the backpack on her shoulders just to hold your hand with her free one.
For a second she hesitated but when you squeezed her hand and intertwined your fingers, she started walking down the beach wearing a proud smile.
The place was live, screams and laughter filling the air but even then a comfortable silence surrounded you. You focused on the breeze and the waves as Natasha guided you away from the crowd. And once she found the perfect spot, she dropped the helmets and you looked at her.
“I’m not sitting on the sand” you said softly and she rolled her eyes, taking off the backpack and getting out one of her blankets “Oh, you thought about everything”
“I know you believe I’m an idiot sometimes, but I’m very smart” she grinned and sat over the blanket, patting next to her “Come here”
You sat next to her cross-legged and she got out what was supposed to be iced tea and a beer. She handed you the tea and opened her beer.
“So tell me, what exactly are we doing here? We could’ve shared a drink back home” you said siping on your tea.
And she didn’t say anything for a few minutes, her eyes focused on the waves as silence stretched between you both. Under the moonlight, Natasha looked even prettier. But you forced yourself to look away before your mind went down the same path whenever she was up close and wasn’t kissing you.
The path that always screamed that you were falling for her and made your heart race.
“Back in California, whenever my sister was upset, I dragged her down to the beach” she started, not ready to look at you and taking a sip of her beer.
“A house by the beach? Rich people, man” you teased and she chuckled.
“You are acting like you aren’t rich yourself” she teased back and you shrugged with a smirk “Anyway, we sat under the stars and talked for hours with one condition” she looked at you and you nodded reassuringly “We were there to listen, not to mock or interrupt or judge. The ocean, the moon and the stars would be the ones to keep our secrets” her fingers brushed your cheek and you leaned into her touch “So we are here and I’m making you the same promise”
“I bet you say that to every girl you bring here” you said softly as she leaned closer and she shook her head with serious eyes.
“You are the first girl I bring here and the first one to know about it even” she whispered softly and pulled back before she could kiss you “And in good faith, I’ll start”
“Oh, you will now?” you giggled and she hummed while sipping on her beer.
“Sometimes I’m afraid no matter what I do, it won’t be enough for my parents” she admitted without looking at you and your heart skipped a beat at the sound of honesty. You parted your lips to say something nice but she just smiled “Your turn”
“Let me think” you hummed, tugging your jeans nervously and sighed “Sometimes I think half of my friends are my friends because they want to fuck me” Natasha choked on her beer and you smirked at her “You included”
“Excuse me? I wanted to fuck you before I was your friend” you giggled and she smiled “Okay, my turn I guess” you nodded and she bit her lower lip “Sometimes I’m afraid of really loving someone and not being enough”
“Well, for starters stop fucking around. That would make things easier” you offered and she looked at you with amusement “By the way, why do you do that?”
“I believe it’s your turn” she said and you rolled your eyes.
“Fine. Sometimes I don’t understand the appealing of me. I’ve got all these people trying to bed me and I don’t even think I’m that pretty” Natasha furrowed her brows and you sipped on your tea “Your turn, fuck girl”
She took a moment to think, or that’s what you thought when in reality she her mind was connecting the dots between your eating habits and the perception of yourself. But the words didn’t sound like yourself, more like someone told you that until you believed it was the truth.
“Yeah, okay” she sighed and looked at you “I fuck around because it’s easier to be wanted for a night than keeping people around long enough knowing they probably won’t like the real me. They just like the idea of me” your lips parted and she shook her head “What about you, golden girl? Why are you not dating?”
“I heard once no one would like the real me, so why trying? Besides, I’m too busy for that” you admitted softly and she hummed.
You two kept talking, failing at not mocking each other but laughing as the time passed. And Natasha felt safe, real even. She displayed for you all her dark thoughts and you offered yours back, and not once did she judge or tried to make you think different.
You both just listened.
And at some point, she laid on her back with her arms folded behind her head only to wrap one around you when you joined her, resting your head on her chest as you kept talking.
You shivered and she broke the embrace to grab one of her hoodies from the backpack. You looked at her and she shrugged.
“I knew you were going to forget your own” she said softly and you put on the hoodie that looked three times bigger around your tiny body “It looks good on you”
“I’ll believe you since half of the time you are trying to get me off my clothes not on them” you teased and went back to lay next to her “You know, the date sucked. And you were right”
“I’m always right” you smacked her and she giggled “What did Steve do?”
“Being an ass” you sighed and sneaked a hand under her own hoodie seeking the warmth of her abdomen “At least you made it clear you wanted to fuck me before”
Natasha just hummed and you both went back to talk about everything. Your body relaxed over hers, letting your walls down as her voice filled the air telling you a story about that time Yelena was knocked by a wave when she was little.
Your breath got softer, your eyes closed as you focused on her heartbeat and her grip tightened around your waist, keeping you close and warm.
And she thought you were asleep when she said:
“I think I’m falling in love with you”
It was the first time she admitted to herself, out loud and to you. But she hoped that secret would be kept between her, the ocean, the stars and the moon.
However, her heart started beating fast when your voice filled the silence.
Summary: Natasha Romanoff has always been trained to notice the smallest details—the ones that reveal what people want, what they fear, what they hide. But when it comes to you, there’s one detail she can’t seem to uncover.
Warnings: fluff
Words: 5338
You stab a piece of food with your fork and gesture casually toward the cafeteria line with your chin.
“What about Jenn from HR? She seems nice. Always says hi whenever she sees you.”
Beside you, Natasha doesn’t even glance up. She spears a bite neatly from her tray and answers flatly.
“She’s already seeing someone.”
You pause mid-chew, blinking at her in disbelief.
“Seriously? Who?”
Natasha lifts her fork, tilting it just enough to indicate across the room without drawing attention.
“Carmen. From the front desk. They’ve been dating since last month.”
You follow the direction of her gesture, eyebrows rising when you notice Carmen sitting in the corner. Tablet in hand, sure, but her eyes keep flicking upward—straight toward Jenn in the line. When their gazes meet, there’s a secret smile, a tiny wave, something almost invisible unless you were looking for it.
“…Huh,” you murmur, reluctantly impressed.
Natasha only nods, as if it’s obvious. She resumes eating, believing that the subject of this particular conversation is over after her words.
You notice a tiny smear of sauce clinging near her lip, and without thinking, you lean in and dab it away with a napkin.
“You got a little something,” you say softly.
Natasha doesn’t even react in surprise at your touch. She just takes the napkin from you with a distracted “Thanks,” eyes still on her plate.
You lean back, resting your chin on your hand, studying her with something between admiration and exasperation.
“So how’d you figure that out?”
She shrugs like it’s nothing, slicing into her food with precise care.
“Jenn’s lunch routine changed. She used to eat in her office, now she shows up whenever Carmen’s here. Plus, Jenn’s been wearing that silver bracelet Carmen wore every day until about three weeks ago. And whenever Carmen’s shift ends early, Jenn conveniently leaves a couple minutes later—even though she usually stays late.”
You blink, almost dropping your fork at the overload of detail.
“And you just happen to notice all of that?”
“It’s part of being a spy,” Natasha says, looking up with a faint smirk. “People tell you things without realizing it. All you have to do is watch.”
Before you can retort, a new group enters the cafeteria. You nudge her arm, pointing at someone in the middle.
“Okay, what about—”
“Crushing on Jeremy from IT,” she interrupts smoothly, not even bothering to turn her head.
Your jaw drops. “You didn’t even look.”
“I don’t need to,” she replies coolly, taking a sip of her drink. “She rearranged her gym schedule to match his. Switched brands to that chalky protein powder he drinks. And she nearly concussed herself last week trying to follow him around a corner.”
You gape, then narrow your eyes at her.
“You say you’re not into romance,” you accuse, jabbing your fork toward her, “but you’re basically tuned into everyone’s relationship at SHIELD.”
Her smirk deepens just enough to be infuriating.
“I don’t have to be into it to recognize it. Tells are tells. That’s all it is—patterns, shifts, little details.”
You hum, a grin tugging at your lips as something mischievous sparks in your chest. You lean forward, voice lowering with challenge.
“Alright then. Since you’re so confident…do me.”
Her brows rise. “Excuse me?”
You rest your chin in your palm, grinning excitedly.
“Figure out my crush.”
For the first time, Natasha falters. Just a flicker—but you catch it. Surprise. Maybe confusion. Definitely something unsettled before she schools her features back into cool indifference.
“You have someone you like?”
You shrug, your smile turning smug.
“Mmhmm. Guess you’re not as sharp with the little details as you thought.”
Her eyes narrow on you, and you don’t miss the way her grip tightens subtly on her fork.
“Give me until the end of the week,” she says finally, standing to gather her tray.
You smirk at her teasingly.
“You need that long?”
Her look turns flat.
“We leave on mission tomorrow. With actual gunfire and people trying to kill us. You want me to prioritize your love life over keeping us alive?”
You tip your head in mock consideration.
“Multitask, Romanoff.”
Her huff is half amusement, half irritation as she adjusts her tray and tablet before attempting to grab her bag.
“Fine,” she grunts, conceding the challenge.
You sweep the bag from her overloaded hands before she can manage it.
“End of the week,” you call as you stroll away, flashing her a playful grin. “Let’s see how good the Black Widow really is…at noticing the little details.”
Natasha watches you go, eyes narrowing just slightly.
You don’t spare a single glance toward anyone else in the room. No tells. No obvious trails. For someone she spends so much time with, she realizes she never noticed there was someone you liked.
That thought alone bothers her more than anything.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha’s boots click quietly against the floor as she moves down the long row of lockers, her mind already sorting through mission details. She slows when she spots you in the next row, bent over the middle bench, lacing your boots.
She stops short, retreating a step back around the corner when she realizes you’re not alone. A weapons support tech she recognizes stands beside you, chatting animatedly while you respond with the same bright energy.
Natasha’s eyes narrow when the other woman’s hand lands briefly on your shoulder before she departs with a smile. The touch is friendly, fleeting even, and yet irritating all the same.
“You know she’s still tangled up in that on-again, off-again thing with Tess from legal,” Natasha blurts as she finally approaches.
You turn, one brow raised, clearly amused.
“Even I know that tidbit,” you tease, tugging your boots tight and rising to your feet. Hands settle on your hips as you tilt your head at her. “What are you suggesting, that she’s my crush?”
Natasha considers, tilting her head. For a split second, she weighs the possibility before dismissing it, shaking her head as she strides to her locker.
“No. She’s not your type.”
You chuckle, leaning your shoulder against the lockers beside hers, arms folded loosely across your chest.
“And what exactly do you think my type is?”
Her hand freezes halfway into her locker. The question digs in deeper than she expected. For all her observation skills, she realizes she has no answer. You flirt often, but always lightly, never with any real heat. Not once could she recall you showing actual romantic interest in anyone.
Irritation stirs in her chest at the gap in her knowledge. Her lips press thin before she finally mutters, “Just…not her.”
You hum thoughtfully at her clipped tone, pushing off the locker.
“Well, you’re right again, Romanoff. She was just dropping something off for me.”
Natasha answers with a noncommittal noise, keeping her face buried in the depths of her locker as she gathers her gear. The sound of rummaging nearly masks your footsteps when, suddenly, a tug at her arm pulls her around.
“What—” she starts, but the words catch in her throat when you step into her space, close enough that she freezes.
For one breathless second, her pulse spikes as you lean in.
But at the last instant, you angle past her face, fingers working deftly at her waist. Natasha’s breath stills as she feels the brush of your hand close the clasp of her utility belt.
Then you lean back, patting the red hourglass buckle at her front.
“Got them to finish the repairs just in time,” you announce proudly, turning away toward your own locker.
Natasha releases the air she’d been holding in a slow rush, her hands curling at her sides as she fights to steady the pounding of her heart. The warmth on her cheek feels out of place and unexpected. She brushes at it with the back of her hand, annoyed with herself. Why did her body react like that?
Her gaze drifts back to you.
You hum absently while you pack your duffel, tossing items in without care. Same as always. Nothing new, nothing different.
Nothing to explain her reaction.
Something slips from your locker with the next careless toss.
Natasha stoops and picks it up—a photo, edges worn. It’s the group shot at the shawarma shop after the battle in New York. She remembers the moment, remembers the exhaustion in her bones as she sits between Steve and Clint.
But what catches her eye now is you. You aren’t looking at the camera. Your gaze is angled toward the three of them instead.
“Have you heard from any of them recently?” you ask casually, drawing her attention.
Natasha blinks, processing your question for a beat before handing the photo back.
“Uh, no. Clint’s on vacation. And last I heard Stark’s still rebuilding.”
You hum softly, sliding the picture back onto the inside of your locker door.
“What about Rogers?”
Her brows draw together. She glances at the photo again, as if she could trace the direction of your gaze, pinpoint whether it lingered on the Captain. Her tone cools.
“What about him?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, zipping up your duffel. “It must be tough, adjusting to the modern world all alone.”
The spark of irritation comes so suddenly that it makes her jaw clench. Natasha slams her locker closed harder than she means to.
“He’ll manage,” she says curtly before adding. “We should focus on our own jobs.”
You only laugh, throwing your duffel strap over one shoulder and—before she could react—snatching hers as well.
“Whatever you say, Romanoff,” you say, walking towards the hangar bay.
Natasha lingers for a moment longer, her gaze sliding back to your locker. The group photo sits just inside. She exhales through her nose, trying to banish the nagging thoughts.
Steve Rogers probably isn’t your type either.
So why does just the possibility of it leave such a bitter taste in her mouth?
With a sigh, she follows after you, irritation simmering low in her chest and growing harder to explain.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha lounges on the lush couch in the grand hotel lobby, ankle crossed neatly over her knee, a glossy magazine balanced in her lap.
To the casual eye, she’s absorbed in the pages, but in reality, her gaze darts over the rim of the paper—tracking staff as they carry trays of glassware into the ballroom, noting security placement, measuring the rhythm of movement in and out of the gilded doors.
The comm device crackles faintly in her ear, and your voice filters through, light and curious.
“Do you see our target yet?”
Natasha exhales a soft breath, flipping the page like she’s genuinely invested in the article.
“Still no,” she murmurs. “Nothing has changed since you asked me five minutes ago.”
Your sigh hums over the line, a note of boredom. Then your voice drops lower, the ghost of a teasing smile audible across the frequency.
“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Her hand stalls mid-turn, the page hanging half-folded in her fingers. Natasha blinks once, forcing herself to return to her sharp and focused composure, but her chest betrays her with the faintest hitch.
Usually, she has no trouble brushing off your teasing, filing it under friendly banter and harmless distraction.
But lately…lately the simple sound of your voice makes her pulse skip for some reason.
She clears her throat quietly, forcing her attention outward.
Across the marble floor, movement catches her eye. A cluster of security streams through the doors, and in the center, exactly as expected, is the target.
“I see him,” she says, her voice cracking slightly, which she quickly covers with a soft cough.
On the comms, you shift, the rustle of fabric telling her you’re straightening in your seat.
“And the package?”
Her eyes flick between the security bodies and spot a slim metal case in the target’s hand. One of the guards moves to the front desk, and the target’s grip on the case shifts into perfect view.
Natasha palms her phone and pretends to scroll before tilting it just enough to capture an image. She sends it over with a practiced ease.
“Nice work,” you say, approval warm in your tone. “It looks like that model requires a fingerprint scan to open.”
Natasha lifts her phone to her ear, feigning a call as she considers the problem.
Her gaze drifts toward the ballroom doors, where the staff are still bustling about.
At the threshold stands the event planner—clipboard hugged close, lips moving as she ticks off notes. When she glances up and her eyes catch sight of Natasha, her composure stumbles. She ducks her head, her cheeks flushing faintly as she pretends to fuss with her clipboard.
“So we lift the prints at the party,” Natasha says calmly, already slotting pieces of a plan into place.
Your soft laugh filters through with a hint of skepticism.
“And how exactly do you suppose we get inside?”
Natasha’s eyes flick back to the planner, who sneaks another look at her before quickly tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Natasha feels the corner of her mouth curve. She tips her head, gifting the woman a small, disarming smile and a subtle wave. The shy grin she earns in return confirms it—an opening.
Natasha lowers her magazine just enough to murmur, “I’m working on it.”
Before you can reply, she rises smoothly from the couch and crosses the lobby, her stride confident but unhurried. She stops just beside the planner, her posture easy and her smile warm.
“You’ve done a beautiful job with the room,” Natasha says, voice low and sincere.
The compliment lands instantly. The woman beams, shoulders straightening.
“Oh! Thank you—it’s been exhausting, but I think it’s finally coming together. Are you…a guest?”
Natasha shakes her head lightly.
“Helping a friend who is. Their luggage got lost during the flight, so I came to make sure they had what they needed.” She lets the pause linger a beat, then adds smoothly, “Though I may be pressing my luck asking if there’s any chance of being a plus-one.”
The planner’s brows lift, interest sparking exactly where Natasha expects it.
“We might have last-minute passes,” she says quickly, flipping through her clipboard. “I could add a note to add you if you’d still like to come.”
“That sounds lovely,” Natasha replies, resting a hand lightly on the woman’s arm, her smile just this side of intimate. “I hope that means I’ll see you there too.”
The woman chuckles, biting back a grin, before one of the staff calls her name. She starts to go, but glances back.
“What’s your name? For the list.”
Natasha gives the alias assigned to her mission. The woman scribbles it onto her notes, then flashes her a quick wave.
“It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Natasha answers smoothly, watching as she disappears into the organized chaos of final preparations.
Once she’s gone, Natasha raises her phone again, pretending to resume her call.
“And now we have a way in,” she says softly, satisfaction threading her tone.
Silence answers. The accomplished warmth in her chest cools into tight concern.
“Hello? Is everything okay?” she asks, turning toward the exit, ready to head back to you if needed.
Finally, your voice filters back through the comm.
“All good. Just some connection problems. I’m back now.”
Natasha frowns faintly. Something in your tone is off. It’s no longer playful, but clipped. Before she can press, you clear your throat, steering the moment away.
“Can you figure out what room he’s staying in? I’ll sneak in and take the case while you lift his prints at the party.”
The frown deepens. She doesn’t like the sharp pivot or the stiffness in your voice.
“Are you sure you’re—”
“Natasha.”
The curt way you say her name stills her instantly.
“Focus on our own jobs, remember?” you add with a teasing lilt, though the note rings hollow compared to earlier.
Natasha swallows, turning back into the lobby, her expression once again carefully neutral.
“…Yeah. Sure,” she mutters, though the word sits heavy in her chest.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha sits cross-legged on the narrow bed, eyes tracking you as you pace the length of the safehouse. The single room feels even smaller with your restless movement, your gaze fixed on the tablet in your hands as you scroll through hotel blueprints.
You mutter to yourself occasionally, weighing entry points and fallback routes, but when she tries to interject, all she gets are clipped one-word answers or noncommittal hums.
She narrows her eyes. Something is off—it has been off since the hotel lobby. She just can’t put her finger on what.
A sharp knock breaks the tense quiet. Both of you freeze for half a beat, instincts snapping in. You exchange a look, then move in a practiced tandem.
Natasha slips from the bed, gun in hand from beneath the nightstand, while you draw one hidden by the doorframe.
“Oi! Open up already! I haven’t got all day!”
Natasha exhales sharply at the familiar voice. You relax too, though your weapon stays in your hand until you swing the door open.
Mason leans casually against the frame, suitcase in hand. His brow arches at the sight of your guns.
“Always a warm welcome with the two of you,” he deadpans, brushing past you into the room.
Natasha huffs, tucking her weapon away.
“What are you doing here?”
“I called him,” you say, shutting the door and turning to Mason expectantly. “Did you get it?”
He presents the case with mock ceremony.
“Here you are. Now we’re square, yeah?”
You take the case and tilt your head in consideration.
“Is one favor really enough after what you put me through at that last safehouse?”
“Hey,” Mason protests with a hand raised, grinning, “I was trapped there with you, too.”
Natasha frowns, her gaze darting between you and him. There’s an ease in your banter with Mason—inside jokes, stories she isn’t part of. The space between you two is minimal also, too casual for her liking. She tells herself it’s nothing, but irritation prickles anyway.
The irritation grows as she realizes you’ve spoken more words to Mason in these few minutes than you have to her in the past hours. Before she can think better of it, she’s already stepping forward, pressing Mason back toward the door with a polite but firm hand.
“Alright, we need to prep for tonight,” she says briskly, ushering him over the threshold. “Thanks for the delivery. Until next time.”
His brows lift, but before he can argue, the door clicks shut and locks.
She turns to find you perched on the bed with the case, already working the clasps.
“That was a little rude,” you comment, a grin tugging at your lips when you glance at her. The teasing tone doesn’t match the way you immediately look back down, shutting her out again.
Natasha’s patience snaps.
“Alright, what’s up with you?” she demands, folding her arms as she steps closer.
You stop fiddling with the lock, lift your eyes, and fix her with a steady look.
“That woman at the hotel,” you say flatly.
Natasha blinks in confusion.
“What about her?”
“How did you know she was interested in you?” Your shrug is casual, but the words are sharp. “That’s why you went over, right? Because you already knew she’d say yes.”
The question hangs heavier than it should. Natasha hesitates, suddenly cautious. She could give you a dozen technical answers, but instinct tells her the wrong one might make things worse. She taps her fingers against her arm, searching.
“I just…noticed,” she admits finally. “The little details. How someone looks, shifts, reacts. I can always tell when they like something—or someone.”
Your expression doesn’t soften. If anything, the slight clench of your jaw tells her she’s only made it worse. You hum, noncommittal, and turn back to the case.
Frustration knots in Natasha’s chest. She can feel you slipping back into silence, shutting her out again.
The locks pop open.
She leans forward instinctively, expecting some weapon or device.
Instead, you pull out a long red dress. Without a word, you rise and step in front of her, holding it up against her body.
“I knew it would look good on you,” you murmur, appraising her with softened eyes for a brief second. Then you drape the dress onto the bed and brush past her, back to your tablet. “Now you can notice all the people interested in you later at the party.”
This time, the edge in your voice is unmistakable.
Natasha’s mouth opens to respond, but she falters. She doesn’t actually know what the issue is, only that she’s missing something, and the fact that she can’t see it bothers her more than she wants to admit.
You curl up on the sofa, tablet balanced on your knee, already scanning blueprints as if she’s no longer in the room.
Natasha sighs, staring at the red dress lying stark against the drab blanket, before dragging a hand down her face. Confusion and annoyance churn together, and for once she has no read. No clear tells.
Just the unsettling certainty that she’s failed to notice some detail that matters most.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha smooths her palms down the dress, the fabric gliding beneath her fingers. You were right—it fits perfectly. Too perfectly. She wonders, fleetingly, if Mason guessed her measurements or if you had given them.
When she finally exits the bathroom, she finds you already geared up in your black tactical suit, adjusting the straps across your shoulders, with your focus tight on your equipment.
“Can you help me with this?” Natasha asks quietly, turning her back to you and gathering her hair into one hand to bare the zipper.
“Sure,” you reply. The nonchalance of your tone makes her want to sigh, but she keeps still, bowing her head slightly so you have easier access.
Your palm steadies her lower back as your other hand finds the zipper and tugs it slowly upward. The soft scrape of metal teeth closing echoes in her ears. At the top, your breath ghost against the nape of her neck.
“You look beautiful, Natasha,” you whisper faintly, almost as if you didn’t mean to say it aloud. Then, just as quickly, your touch and presence vanish as you step away.
Natasha stays rooted to the spot. She releases her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and lifts her gaze to the mirror across the room. Her eyes widen at the sight of her reflection.
A flush blooms across her cheeks, one she can’t write off as heat or adrenaline. She knows this expression. The flicker of awareness, the telltale glow in the eyes, the way her pulse jumps—details she’s read a hundred times in others, but never noticed in herself.
Her head snaps over her shoulder.
You’re focused on your gear again, oblivious to the rush of thoughts in her mind as the memory of your whisper hums in her ears.
Unconsciously, her heart beats faster, and the urge to step back into your space nearly overwhelms her. Her hand flexes at her side, restless.
But then she remembers.
You already told her you like someone. The reminder settles like a stone in her chest. Natasha breathes deeply, pressing her feelings down beneath years of training.
As if sensing her stare, you glance up and offer her a small, reassuring smile.
“Ready, Romanoff?”
Her throat tightens, and she forces herself to nod.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The party is bright and loud, chandeliers scattering light across polished floors and velvet drapes.
Natasha slips through with ease, greeted warmly by the planner who ushers her inside. A few pleasantries exchanged, and the woman is called away, leaving Natasha free to focus on the mission.
The target is easy to find, seated with his cluster of guards.
Natasha approaches, glass of wine in hand.
One guard steps in her path, his palm pressing firmly against her shoulder. Natasha knocks his hand away, cold irritation flashing in her eyes, until the target waves him aside.
His leer is obvious, his gaze shameless.
Natasha fights the urge to roll her eyes, pasting on a coy smile instead as she takes the offered seat beside him. She crosses her legs slowly, the slit of the dress shifting to bare a line of skin. Predictably, his attention locks there.
A few flirtatious remarks and practiced laughs later, he’s pliant in her hands. She passes him her glass under the guise of sharing. When she takes it back, her “slip” sends the last drops spilling onto him. Her apologies tumble out sweet and flustered, and he waves her off with a smile, completely unaware that his fingerprints are now captured on her scanner after she leaves his side.
“I got the prints,” she murmurs into the comm, moving swiftly toward the exit.
Static crackles before your voice cuts through, strained and layered with the sounds of impact and shattering glass.
“That’s… great.” A grunt follows, then the crash of something breaking.
Natasha freezes, then picks up her pace.
“What’s happening?”
More noise filters in—grunts, a muffled curse, the slam of bodies colliding. Your voice returns, breathless but firm.
“I’ve got the case too. Just…finishing up here.”
Natasha presses the elevator button repeatedly, muttering under her breath.
“You could just admit you need help.”
Your laugh comes, dramatic and almost mocking, despite the strain.
“What? Everything’s fine.” Another grunt follows, less convincing this time.
When the elevator doors slide open, she bolts down the hall toward the sound of chaos. One door hangs ajar.
Natasha bursts in, gun raised—only to see you drop the last guard with a final, clean strike.
You straighten, sweat-damp hair sticking to your forehead, chest rising and falling. Spotting her, you flash a crooked grin.
“See? All good.”
You stoop to pick up the case and head past her, but Natasha steps into your path, hand pressing firmly to your shoulder. She tilts your chin with practiced precision, inspecting your face.
The moment her fingers brush your temple, you flinch. Her hand comes away slick with red. Natasha’s jaw tightens. She grips your chin again, forcing your eyes to hers.
“Next time, just ask for help.” Her tone is sharp and low.
You only stare back, wide-eyed, lips parting without words.
That’s when Natasha realizes just how close she is, her body angled into yours, her grip still holding you there.
Heat climbs her cheeks before she notices something else.
Your gaze flickers—downward, just for a breath, to her mouth—before darting away, and the color deepening on your face clearly isn’t just from exertion.
Her heart stutters. She recognizes this detail, too.
You pull back abruptly, her hand falling from your jaw.
“Let’s get moving before reinforcements show,” you mutter, brushing past without meeting her eyes.
Natasha turns and watches you go, pulse still racing, and suspicion coiling in her chest. Of all people, she knows these kinds of tells the best, and she knows exactly what they mean.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha drops the last strip of gauze into the first-aid box and snaps the lid shut, but she doesn’t move away from you. She stays planted in front of the bed, her knees brushing yours as you sit at the edge, head still tilted slightly from where she bandaged you.
You squirm under her gaze, eyes fixed anywhere but her face—the window, the wall, the worn carpet. She notices every flick of your eyes, every shift of your shoulders. It’s not discomfort. It’s just nerves.
You sigh finally, rubbing at your palms.
“Alright, I’ll call for back-up next time,” you mutter. “Just…stop whatever intimidation tactic this is.”
Natasha huffs, a low, amused sound.
“This isn’t intimidation.”
Before you can retreat further, she lifts her hand and cups your jaw, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. She tilts your face up toward hers, and the moment your eyes meet, she catches it—the sudden flush rising under your skin, the slight hitch of your breath.
Her own lips curve, triumphant and almost disbelieving.
“I knew it,” she whispers, more to herself than to you.
Your brows furrow. “Knew what?”
Her smile deepens. She kneels onto the bed, closing the distance, until she’s almost straddling your thighs.
You lean back instinctively, bracing yourself on your elbows as she hovers above you.
“The person you like,” Natasha murmurs, voice low, teasing yet fragile at the edges. “Is it me?”
You blink in surprise, startled, your words stuttering in your throat.
“How…?”
Natasha’s grin softens into something warmer. Her fingers slide up from your jaw to cradle your face fully, thumbs resting at the corners of your mouth. She leans in until your noses brush, her breath fanning over your lips.
“I notice things. Always have,” she murmurs. “But somehow I missed the one right in front of me.”
Before you can answer, she tilts your chin up and presses her mouth to yours in a soft, tentative kiss—testing, tasting, a question asked with her lips.
For a heartbeat, you’re frozen, caught between disbelief and the flood of warmth crashing through you. Then instinct takes over. Your hands rise almost on their own, sliding over the curve of her waist until your palms spread firmly against her hips, grounding both of you in the moment.
You kiss her back, slow at first, savoring the softness of her lips against yours. The tentative edge fades as you angle your head slightly, deepening the kiss, letting her feel in the press of your mouth what words never managed to say.
Natasha exhales against you, a shiver running through her that you feel in the flex of her body beneath your touch. The hand cradling your face tightens just a fraction, as though she’s afraid you’ll pull away.
Instead, you slip one hand up from her hip to her lower back, drawing her closer until there’s no space left between you.
When she finally breaks the kiss, it’s only because she needs to breathe. She stays close, resting her forehead against yours, her lips brushing yours with every shallow inhale.
You can feel the rapid beat of her heart in the way her chest rises against yours.
Her eyes open, and this time, you don’t look away. You keep her close, thumbs brushing soft circles over her waist, silently telling her the answer she already suspects.
“Sorry it took me so long to notice that little detail,” she breathes, her voice breaking faintly on the words.
A laugh escapes you, shaky but relieved.
“What I feel for you is nothing little, Natasha Romanoff,” you murmur, brushing your lips against hers again.
This time, she doesn’t hesitate. The next kiss is deeper, hungrier—no longer testing but answering.
Natasha shifts forward, pressing you back against the mattress, her hands sliding to your shoulders, anchoring herself as she kisses you harder.
Your fingers tighten on her waist, tracing the outline of her dress, feeling her shiver under your touch.
She parts her lips under yours, a soft sound escaping her throat, equal parts relief and want.
The safehouse fades—the hum of the heater, the smell of antiseptic, the muffled city sounds outside—until there’s only the warmth of her body and the weight of the moment, long overdue.
Natasha breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, her forehead still against yours, her lips grazing your mouth with each word.
“Tell me if this is too much.”
You shake your head slightly, eyes locked with hers.
“Not even close.”
She smiles, a real, unguarded smile, before capturing your lips again—this time slower, deeper, her hands sliding behind your neck as yours explore the curve of her back, both of you surrendering to this little detail that the two of you share.
Summary: You and Natasha have been best friends since you were kids, attached at the hip, even through college. What happens when a new girl comes into the picture and a drunken night pushes the limits of you and Natasha’s friendship?
Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT HA, virgin!Reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), dom!nat (I want her biblically)
Word Count: 6,300
Note: based on a request from my lovely @toy4nat
Natasha always knew how to make an entrance. You know this, you’d always known this- since you were kids, she’d always known how to make an entrance. You grew up on the shier side, always being a little bit more reserved and nervous to make friends or take up space. Your parents knew this about you from a young age, and so when you were eleven years old, they’d forced you into a playdate over at the Romanoffs. You had seen the fiery redheaded girl at school obviously, who hadn’t, but you’d never actually talked to her. You fell into a much different, much nerdier crowd than her at your middle school. She was the type to be the captain of every sports team, the coveted queen bee that all the boys had crushes on. So you were reluctant to say the least, but your dad had insisted, something about him and Alexei, Natasha’s father, “going way back”.
“Dad I can’t,” you whine, kicking your seat in the backseat of the car.
“You’re going to be fine, Y/n. It’s good to make friends, everyone needs friends.”
“But I have friends!,” you protest, “I have friends and I don’t need anymore, I like my friends.”
“Honey, I know you have a few friends from elementary, but none of them are at your middle school right? This is a good thing, I promise.”
Your dad had pulled you out of the car and rang the doorbell before there was anything else you could do about it. The door swung open almost immediately and standing in the doorway was an eleven year old Natasha Romanoff, with her hair pulled back into a tight french braid and an unassuming scowl on her face. You thought you were done for.
“Hi Natasha honey,” your dad says, “is your dad here?”
“Yea. He’s here. ALEXEI.”
“Oh goodness,” a big burly man with a beard comes up behind Natasha and claps her on the back.
“Alexei! It’s good to see you,” your dad shakes his hand while Natasha just squints at you with her hand still on the door like she might shut it in your face.
“Good to see you my friend! Now run along with your new friend Natasha,” Alexei grumbles. She just stands there for a moment too long, staring at you while you cower next to your father.
“I’m Y/n-,” you start, but she cuts you off.
“Yea I know. Come inside, we’re friends now,” she grabs your hand and tugs you inside, pulling you quickly towards her room. Your dad exclaims some sort of goodbye, but Natasha already has you down the hallway. “You’re pretty,” Natasha says matter of factly, her hand still in yours, “we’re going to have so much fun.”
You groan as someone pounds on your door, peeling yourself away from your homework to go open it.
“OPEN UP,” a muffled voice says behind the door. You lazily swing it open and Natasha comes barreling in. “Hi Y/n are you-,” she stutters, looking you up and down, “why the fuck aren’t you dressed,” Natasha asks with a scowl, throwing her hands up in the air.
“I have a midterm,” you respond flatly. Natasha groans dramatically. She’s wearing a tight black skirt that barely covers her butt cheeks with a red off the shoulder blouse and boots that rest just below her knees. Her hair is curled and she has sparkly eye shadow adorning her lids.
“God that’s so fucking boring, shut the door,” Natasha crosses her arms in front of you as you slam your dorm door in defeat.
“Natasha-,” you protest, “I love you, but I like actually cannot go out tonight.”
“Open your closet.”
“No.”
She huffs, pulling a couple shooters out of her purse and throwing them at you before stomping over to your closet and swinging the doors open.
“Fireball?,” you scoff, unscrewing one of the shooters, “you’re so gross.”
“Drink it princess,” Natasha yells, her head in your closet as she pulls out a few different dresses and tops. You throw it back and wipe your mouth, grimacing as it burns going down your throat.
“I can see your thong,” you mutter, your eyes watering from the fireball.
“Good,” Natasha whips her head back, giving you a shit eating grin, “I wanted you to.” You just roll your eyes in response, catching one of the dresses she throws at you. You pull off your t-shirt and sweats and pull on the dress while Natasha continues to rifle through your closet.
“Oh so you’re trying to get me laid,” you mutter, pulling up the straps and eying yourself in the mirror. She’d conveniently picked out the dress with the least amount of fabric, a black lacy strappy little thing that’s nearly see through.
Natasha turns around with a belt and a pair of boots, staring straight at your chest with a disinterested look. “I can see your tits.”
“Like full nip or what?,” you turn sideways in the mirror.
“Like, full tit, yea,” Natasha says nodding.
“I feel like it’s fine,” you respond, grabbing the belt from her and clasping it around your hips.
“I don’t think so,” Natasha opens a drawer and throws a red lacy bra at you. You pull down the straps off your dress and snap on the bra as Natasha digs around your vanity for some earrings. You pull the dress back up and then swiftly tug it down your thighs as Natasha sets out a pair of snug gold hoops.
“Can you do my makeup?” you mumble, smoothing the dress down and turning around.
“Drink another fireball and I’ll think about it,” Natasha responds, opening up the drawer of your vanity and pulling out your makeup bag.
“Fuck you,” you unscrew another shooter and throw it back quickly, gagging dramatically and tossing the empty bottle into the trash.
“Sit down,” Natasha mutters, pulling various different products out of the bag and tossing them on your bed. You sit down and cross your legs, reluctantly angling your face up towards her. “Good girl,” Natasha says in a mocking tone, holding your jaw as she swipes eye shadow across your lid.
“Oh my god,” you scoff.
“Wanda’s going to be there tonight,” Natasha says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Okay yes and?”
“And I think you should fuck her so,” Natasha shrugs her shoulders, pulling out your black eyeliner.
“You’re like a frat boy with tits.”
“And an ass,” Natasha mumbles. You had only recently come out as bisexual to Natasha, and rather cautiously for that matter. You’d always known you liked girls, but you had only ever been with men your entire life and were always too scared to admit it. Finding out her childhood best friend that she’d followed to college was at least a little gay was like a game changer for Natasha. She had been out for years and had grown quite the reputation for herself since coming to college.
“I think your definition of fucking and my definition of fucking are very different,” you mutter with your eyes closed.
“Oh come on- you deserve a little fling with a cute girl am I wrong?”
“And if I don’t fuck her then you will-”
“And if you don’t I will yes.”
“I haven’t even been with a woman before, a one night stand seems like an unwise place to start.”
“I don’t think we’re going out to be wise babe,” Natasha responds, dusting a bit of highlighter on your cheek bones and nose.
“Yea but I feel like I should try respecting women before resorting to whatever it is you do,” you smile mischievously at her and she scowls.
“I respect women,” Natasha says with a glare.
“You rip and dip.”
“Y/n, I do not rip and dip,” Natasha picks up a dark red lip liner and carves out your top lip.
“If you had a dick, there would be at least five little Natasha’s running around by this point.”
“I’ve literally only slept with three people in the past two years,” Natasha blends the lip liner with her finger before unscrewing a red gloss.
“Maybe I’m projecting,” you admit with a shrug.
“Virgin,” Natasha mutters and you kick her in the shin.
“Stop!”
“And god forbid I want to change that,” she grimaces as your foot hits her shin but she just grabs your jaw harder, steadying you as she swipes on your lip gloss.
“I hate you,” you mumble.
“All done,” Natasha says, smacking your cheek lightly, “can we go now?”
You and Natasha each take two more shooters before heading down the street to the party. It’s a short walk, but you’re both sufficiently drunk, walking arm and arm and giggling the entire way.
“So when we get there you’re going to find Wanda,” Natasha giggles.
“Noooo Tasha I’m not,” you respond, stumbling ever so slightly.
“Okay so I’m going to find Wanda and make her find you?”
“TASHA NO.”
“Y/n pleaseeee let me live through you please,” Natasha whines.
“Are you taking a break from your romantic conquests or something, what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m focusing on myself right now,” Natasha says matter of factly, shrugging and tugging you forward towards the frat house.
“Sure you are,” you say sarcastically.
“I am!,” she smacks your arm, “and I just want my best friend to be happy.”
“You could always find me a man.”
“Oh my god,” Natasha pretends to gag, “why the fuck would you say that?” You just laugh at her, the music from the house reaching the sidewalk and vibrating through the soles of your boots. The amount of bodies multiplies as you and Natasha make your way into the front yard and push towards the front door. Natasha takes the lead per usual, grabbing your hand and pulling you in behind her as she pushes through the crowd. Once you finally make it into the house, the music is loud, lights flashing and distorting all of the moving faces in the room.
“Are you okay?,” Natasha yells over the music.
“What?”
“I said are you okay?,” she grabs your waist and pulls you closer so you can hear her.
“Oh! Yea I’m okay, are you okay?”
“I see Wanda over there,” Natasha says, nodding her head towards a corner. You turn to see Wanda dancing in a corner surrounded by her friends. She’s wearing a tight dress with a leather jacket and heels. You look back at Natasha with a nervous smile.
“Not yet, can we just dance together for a little bit?,” you ask nervously.
“Ugh if you insist,” Natasha says, playfully rolling her eyes. She grabs your hands and pulls you into the crowd, spinning you around. You almost fall into her, but she catches you and you both laugh, jumping up and down and dancing in the hot crowded room.
“Aren’t you glad I dragged you out tonight?,” Natasha says in your ear, holding onto your hips as you rock them back and forth against her.
“I mean I guess,” you shrug, one of your hands flying to playfully cup her face. You and Natasha had been best friends since the day your parents forced you to be. At first, Natasha had been so outgoing it almost scared you, but she quickly brought you out of your shell and before you knew it, you were attached at the hip. You’d gone to the same high school and ultimately made the decision to follow each other to college, both of you too intimidated by the real world to do it without each other. By this point, in your junior year of college, you were closer than ever. You’d seen each other at your worst, held each other’s hair back after bar hopping, held each other cry over boys and girls.
Natasha was like a safety blanket, an extension of yourself and so when she smiles at your face mere inches away from hers and squeezes your hip, you don’t think much of it. The party starts to melt away until it’s just the two of you, and as you laugh and dance, you see something in Natasha’s expression change. She looks at you in a way you only see when she’s drunk and all her guards are down. Her hands slide up your waist and you realize just how close she is and it makes your pulse throb in your ears. She looks like she’s about to say something when someone taps you on the shoulder. Natasha backs away and you turn abruptly to see Wanda standing behind you with a smile on her face.
“Wanda! Hi!,” you yell over the music.
“Hi Y/n!,” she says shyly, “I uh, just thought I would come say hi,” she rubs the back of her neck and looks away.
“I um- I’ll be right back,” Natasha mutters and starts weaving through the crowd before you can ask her where she’s going.
“Do you want to dance?,” you ask Wanda with a warm smile, extending your hand out to her. She takes it with a sheepish nod and lets you pull her into the mob of bodies. The two of you sway to the beat, growing closer with each passing song until Wanda’s back is swaying roughly against your front, your hands carefully at her waist.
“I know we’ve talked at parties before, but I wanted to catch a moment alone with you,” Wanda says, craning her head back to look at you, biting her lip.
“Well I’m glad you found me,” you respond with a smile.
“Hey-,” Wanda turns to face you, still swaying to the beat, “are you sure this is okay?,” she asks nervously.
“Yea of course- why wouldn't it be?,” your brow furrows.
“Um-,” her eyes briefly flick to the far corner of the room and you follow her gaze to find Natasha with her back against the wall and her arms crossed, staring at the two of you.
“Oh! Oh. No. Some people kind of just assume we’re dating,” you laugh, “but we’re not I promise, she’s just my best friend.”
“O-okay,” Wanda responds, unconvinced. You look back to Natasha and see that her eyes aren’t on you at all, but entirely trained on Wanda. She’s scowling in a way that you know is an unintentional slip of the mask, but you’re confused as to why.
“Um, hold on, just- I’ll be right back,” you say to Wanda before pushing past her and weaving through the crowd.
“You have my number right?,” Wanda calls after you and you just nod. You finally make it over to the corner where Natasha was moping, but when you get there she’s already gone. You do a 360, but can’t find her anywhere.
“Have you seen a redhead around here?,” you yell at someone nearby, “tiny skirt, boots, kind of mean?” A guy you recognize from your chemistry class points towards the front door and yells, “I think she went outside?” You thank him before pushing through the crowd and out the front door. You take a deep breath once you’re finally outside and away from the thick air of the house, scanning your surroundings for Natasha. You spot her sitting on the sidewalk in front of the house, smoking a cigarette with her knees pulled to her chest.
“Natasha!,” you yell out of breath, running over to her, “thought I lost you for a second.” She stands up when she sees you, grinding her cigarette into the ground with the heel of her boot before lighting another one.
“Hi,” she mutters once you get closer, her focus entirely on lighting her cigarette.
“Are you okay?,” you ask breathlessly, “you seemed upset in there.”
“What? No yea I’m good,” Natasha responds, nodding and taking a drag.
“Are you sure?,” you ask playfully, crossing your arms.
“Why wouldn’t I be?,” she doesn’t meet your eyes.
“You kind of went full guard dog for a minute there,” you say, bumping her shoulder with yours, “I think you scared her off,” you laugh.
“I did?,” Natasha looks up at you suddenly, a concerned look on her face.
“Just a little,” you shrug.
“Oh Y/n- I’m so sorry I- I didn’t mean to-”
“Oh my god- Nat it’s okay,” you put your hand on her arm playfully, “I was just joking.” The look on Natasha’s face is serious. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay..?” you say finally.
“I-,” Natasha pauses for a second, “I need to go,” she turns on her heel and starts walking down the street quickly.
“Natasha wait-,” you run after her, falling into stride next to her, “did I do something?,” you ask, feeling suddenly confused and a little hurt.
“No you didn’t do anything,” Natasha says quietly, refusing to look at you.
“Natasha stop-,” you grab her wrist and pull her towards you, her frantic stride stopping as she finally meets your eyes. The look you saw at the party before Wanda showed up flashes on Natasha’s face briefly, but it’s gone when you blink.
“Y/n I’m fine, just let me go home,” Natasha says sternly and it has you taken aback. She takes a step away from you, her green eyes filled with defense and warning.
“Oh my god,” you step towards her, cautiously placing a hand on her shoulder, “cool off Romanoff.”
“You’re pissing me off,” Natasha growls, ripping her shoulder away from you.
“Natasha,” you snap, “just tell me what the fuck your problem is huh? What’s your deal, why are you acting like this?,” you feel your cheeks start to heat up as anger rises in your chest.
“Just- can we drop it please,” Natasha sighs, her hands coming over her face.
“Nope! Not anymore!,” the volume of your voice rises, “you’ve been pushing me towards this girl all night, and then the second I actually get a moment with her, you fucking ruin it-,”
“Y/n-,” Natasha starts walking towards you, but you back away from her.
“And then you just leave? We always stick together at parties Nat, you know that, you know they make me anxious-,” your hands are flying around wildly as you take slow paces backwards, trying to avoid whatever energy is flowing out of Natasha.
“Y/n, please just-,” tears spring to Natasha’s eyes, but you just keep pushing, the alcohol loosening some sort of deep rooted emotion you didn’t know you had.
“If you don’t like her or you want her or something, that’s fine, but just fucking tell me instead of pushing me to fulfill some sort of agenda that-,” Natasha grabs you by the hips and pushes you backwards, your back hitting a tree, cutting off your sentence with an “oomph”. Your chest heaves and tears fall down your face, hot and angry.
“Why are you crying?” Natasha whispers.
“Why are you crying?,” you shoot back. You try to step away, but Natasha just presses your hips into the tree harder.
“Please stop crying,” Natasha whispers, her face inching closer to yours. Her proximity and her hot hands on you makes something swell inside your chest, something that hurts, something you’ve only fought to push down.
“Natasha-,” you mean for it to come out like a warning, like a snarl, but it just sounds like a plea instead. Suddenly her nose is touching yours, and your breath catches in your throat, the air around the two of you freezing.
“Tell me to stop,” Natasha rasps, her breath coming out hot on your face, her eyes searching you for something, anything. Your body betrays you and you shakily reach out your hand, your fingertips brushing at the space of skin between her shirt and her skirt. It lights a match between you and it’s enough, Natasha’s lips pressing into yours like a leap of faith. A small noise leaves your throat and Natasha presses her hips into you. You open your mouth for her and it’s everything, her tongue sliding hotly into your mouth with a groan. Your hands tangle into her hair and then trace down her jaw as she kisses you, just to feel what it’s like. You arch into her, letting the physical urge to touch every part of her with every part of you take over and she responds by pulling you flush by your hips. The kiss feels like a race, like you’re both desperately running towards something that you can’t have, like you need to feel everything now in case you never get to touch her again.
“Y/n?,” a voice rings out from down the sidewalk and Natasha abruptly tears herself away from you, “Y/n, is that you? Are you okay?,” It’s Wanda and she’s definitely coming this way.
“Wanda!,” you peek your head around the tree as Natasha backs away into the street, “hi, yea I’m okay.”
“Oh,” Wanda sighs with relief, “you never came back, I was worried about you.”
“No yea, I was just coming back actually,” you walk towards her, brushing your fingers through your hair and smoothing down your dress. Wanda meets you with a smile and grabs your hand, tugging you back towards the house. You peek behind you before Wanda can pull you through the doorway and see that Natasha’s already gone, nearly halfway down the block. Your fingers brush across your lips, the feeling of Natasha’s mouth on yours still lingering as you let yourself slip back into the sea of bodies.
You wake up the next morning with a groan, the sun shining through your window and piercing your eyes. You pick up your phone instinctively to see if Natasha’s texted you, but of course she hasn’t and so you just stare at your lockscreen, willing a text notification to materialize. You eventually toss your phone on the floor, pressing your face into your hands as the night comes rushing back to you. You’d been unable to even hold a conversation with Wanda after Natasha left, the remnants of the heated kiss outside clouding over every other coherent thought you might’ve had. You’d torn yourself away from the party shortly after, quickly walking back to campus and shutting yourself in your room. You had paced for what felt like hours, staring at your phone, waiting for Natasha to text you or for you to get the courage to text her. You weren’t sure how you felt, weren’t sure what it meant, but what you were sure of was that you liked it. A lot. You’d eventually tumbled into bed and fallen asleep, exhausted and still a little drunk.
You heave yourself out of bed, peeling off your dress from last night that you unfortunately fell asleep in. You think about Natasha’s searing hands on your hips, her hands on your waist, all the other places you wish her hands would’ve been. You want to smack yourself for kissing your childhood best friend and then smack yourself again for liking it so much. You pull on a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants before shuffling into your en suite bathroom to scrub off your makeup. You finally catch sight of yourself in the mirror and see that your mascara has run all the way down your face and the deep red lip liner is splotched all the way down your chin.
“God,” you mutter to yourself, splashing water on your face and scrubbing with soap. As you’re patting your face dry, you hear your phone buzz in the other room and you fly out of the bathroom and onto the floor where it’s laying. Natasha’s contact information pops up on the screen and you quickly open the message.
“Hi.”
Hi? That’s it? Another text bubble pops up.
“I think we should talk.”
You take a sharp breath, your heart jumping in your chest.
“You can come over to my room whenever you want.”
She starts typing and then stops and you put your phone down and smack your head into the floor. The panic sets in as you brush your teeth. What if you’re about to lose your best friend? What if you’re about to fuck everything up, ruin the reason you’re even at this school in the first place?
You slip on a pair of shoes and walk across the hall and down the stairs to Natasha’s floor. You think about just how close you and Natasha are, how everyone thinks you’re dating and how you’d never really thought much of it until now. You feel stupid now, remembering all of the longing looks Natasha had given you over the past few years. You’d felt the need to get even closer to her since coming to college, like you wanted to know her impossibly better than you already did. It all makes sense now- your comfortability with her touch, your disinterest in dating anyone, her disinterest in dating anyone. You wipe your sweaty palms on your sweatpants as you approach her door. You take a deep breath, knocking once and then opening the door.
You find Natasha sitting at her desk and she turns her head to look at you. Her appearance is similar to yours- sweatpants and a sweatshirt, her hair up messily and all of her makeup gone. She looks at you like she has everyday for the past ten years, but it sends chills down your spine.
“Hi,” you mumble, shutting the door behind you.
“Hi,” Natasha responds, getting up from her desk and sitting on her bed. She stares down at her feet, chewing on her lip.
“You wanted to talk?,” you ask, pressing your back into the door nervously.
“Yea, um- I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Natasha says quietly, still looking down.
“No- Natasha you don’t have to-,”
“No but I do,” she lifts her head to look at you now, “I’m sorry Y/n, I shouldn’t have done that.” The look on Natasha’s face is defeated, and the bags under her eyes tell you she hasn’t slept at all.
“Natasha,” you sigh, rushing over to her and standing in front of where she’s sitting, “you don’t need to apologize.”
“What do you mean?,” Natasha asks, her brow furrowing.
“I-,” you stutter, unable to find the words, “I just- you don’t,” you step closer to her, your body resting between her legs, “I liked it, y- you don’t need to apologize.”
“You liked it?,” Natasha asks, a flicker of hope flashing across her face.
“Yea,” you mumble, looking down at your hands, feeling shy all of the sudden.
“Y/n look at me,” Natasha says firmly and you lift your head to look at her, “you mean it?”
“I mean it.”
“Y/n I’m in love with you,” Natasha blurts out and you instinctively lean into her, but she stops you before you can kiss her, “no- no, I need you to understand that if you kiss me it’s going to mean something,” she looks scared, her eyes flying around your face.
“Natasha I know,” you mumble, a smile creeping up your face.
“If you kiss me right now it means a lot of things, it means everything and so this is me telling you that if even a small part of you doesn’t feel the same, then you need to tell me now and-,”
“Natasha,” you cut her off, your hand coming to rest on her knee, “shut up.”
“Y/n.”
“Tasha.”
She kisses you suddenly, a test, and when you press yourself further in between her legs, her hands come to your waist and grip hard, pulling you closer. Your hands come to rest on her hands, shakily dragging up and over her arms and resting on the sides of her face, twisting into her hair so she can’t pull away. She coaxes your mouth open with her tongue and when you grant her entrance, she sighs, deepening the kiss to the point where your legs feel like they might give out. She wraps her legs around you, trapping you against her as her hands run up your back. Her touch lights a fire deep inside of you and you chase it, one of your hands coming down to grip her thigh as her legs squeeze your torso. You want her, you want her in a way you’ve never wanted anyone else and you kiss her hungrily, wordlessly begging her to take you, to have you as hers and only hers.
“Y/n,” Natasha murmurs against your lips as your hand mindlessly travels further up her thigh. She pulls away and you whine, trying to pull her back in, but she doesn’t let you. “Y/n,” she says again, her thumb brushing over your swollen lips. Her cheeks are red and her hair is falling out of her bun, and her eyes are soft, softer than you’ve ever seen them before. You let everything boil to the surface, all the admiration that you’d passed off as friendship, all the love that wove so much deeper than you’d thought.
“Natasha,” you respond, your forehead coming to rest against hers, “please.” She just swallows, nodding wordlessly and tipping her lips to yours. You press yourself into her, kissing her hungrily, but she pulls away ever so slightly when you try to deepen the kiss. Her hands resting on your waist slowly slip underneath your sweatshirt as she slows down the kiss, kissing you deeply and with purpose. You want to cry when her hands trail up your sides and dance over your ribcage.
She pulls away, looking at you with her hands lightly lifting your sweatshirt. You nod, raising your arms and allowing her to pull your sweatshirt up and over your head. You aren’t wearing anything underneath, but you don't care, pressing your bare chest into Natasha’s hands and kissing her again. She kisses you for a moment, her hands running up and down your stomach, before lightly placing a hand on your sternum. You pull back and watch as she pulls off her sweatshirt, revealing her bare chest. You just stare down at her for a minute, taking in her skin, the dip of her collarbones, her hardening nipples. You’d seen her tits before obviously, having changed in front of each other countless times, but never like this, never in such great detail, allowing yourself to actually look. Her hand is on your neck, pulling you back in and you kiss her slowly, your hands nervously running up her stomach and to the swell of her breasts. She arches into you, urging you to keep going and you cup her breasts, delicately running your thumbs over her nipples. She twitches against your touch, her hand squeezing your waist and a small noise leaving her throat. You keep going, wanting to pull more noises out of her, pinching her nipples and she responds with tightening the hold her legs have around you. You trail your hands back up and into her hair and she pulls you into her roughly, a moan leaving your mouth as your bare skin meets hers. She tugs you up onto the bed and you let out a breathy laugh, your lips briefly leaving hers as you climb up.
“Come here,” Natasha murmurs, laying back onto the pillows. You climb on top of her, straddling her hips and resting your hands on her rib cage.
“Natasha,” you say breathlessly, your heart beating out of your chest at the sight of her hooded eyes and her kiss bruised lips, “you’re being so… gentle.”
“I can be gentle, Y/n,” Natasha says quietly, “or not, depending on what you want,” she grabs your arm and tugs you down onto her, your chest pressing against hers once again as she kisses you. Her hands trail up your chest and squeeze softly, a quiet noise of pleasure leaving your mouth at her touch. She presses her thigh up and between your legs, pulling a louder noise from you that has her smiling into the kiss. She presses her thigh into your center again and you instinctively grind your hips down into her, doing everything you can to keep your composure and kiss her back. One of her thumbs brushes over your sensitive nipple and it has you gasping, your mouth falling open against hers.
Natasha flips you over with a growl, pushing you onto your back and planting both of her hands on your ribcage, pinning you to the mattress.
“Natasha,” you whimper, watching as her mouth attaches to your nipple. She swirls her tongue over it and it has your head flying back into the pillows, your hand coming to tangle into her hair. “Natasha- I’ve never done this before,” you whisper breathily as she sucks your nipple into your mouth.
“Oh baby I know,” Natasha says into your chest, releasing your nipple with a pop, “do you need me to stop?,” she murmurs, her thumb coming up to gently swipe across your cheek.
“No- no please don’t stop,” you say with a shake of your head.
“Well if it’s too much,” she whispers, mouthing down your stomach, “just let me know.” You gasp as her tongue darts out to trace a line down your abdomen, her hands toying with the waistband of your pants.
“Natasha please,” you whimper, wanting her lower, wanting her deeper, wanting her everywhere. She gently tugs down your sweatpants, leaving you in just your underwear and sliding back up your body. She kisses you hard, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thigh slips back between your legs. You arch your hips into her thigh, desperately seeking some kind of friction. She kisses you and kisses you and kisses you and you start to turn into a breathy mess beneath her as her thigh continuously rubs against the thin fabric of your underwear. You cling to her, clawing at her back, kissing her breathlessly. You groan at a particularly hard push of her thigh into your center and Natasha pulls back to look at you, laughing lightly.
“Are you okay?,” she asks gently, but it feels mocking.
“Natasha I swear to god if you don’t just fuck me already-,” another groan is ripped out of your chest as Natasha slides her thigh against you again.
“I’m going to take such good care of you,” she murmurs and you dig your nails into her shoulder, your head rolling back. She swiftly attaches her lips to your neck, trailing kisses down your throat and chest, pulling herself lower and lower until she’s level with your hips. She looks up at you, pulling your underwear down slowly while still holding eye contact. You just nod, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you prop yourself up on your elbows.
“Just wanna make you feel good,” Natasha whispers, pulling one of your legs up and over her shoulder. She kisses down your thigh, nipping lower and lower until her mouth is at your center. She traces a single finger through your wetness and it’s enough to have you arching into her already.
“So needy,” Natasha says with a testing smile, “be patient,” she dips her finger inside of you and curls it up and out, her eyes trained on your every reaction. You whine and she just nods, thrusting again. “Good baby,” she whispers, leaning down and taking your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the mattress with a groan, your fingers twisting into Natasha’s sheets.
“Natasha-,” you beg.
“Shh baby I got you,” she says before pressing her tongue to your clit. Her free hand comes up to untwist the sheets from your fist and lace her fingers between yours. She shallowly gives you a single finger as she swirls her tongue over your sensitive clit.
“Tasha more,” you plea, gripping her hand tightly. She obliges, working a second finger inside of you and it has the moans ripping through you coming faster and louder. She’s licking into you slow and hard, her fingers matching the pace of her tongue like she doesn’t want the moment to end. You look down at her and it’s almost too much, the way her eyes are boring into you and her fingers are slipping in and out of you so easily. Every curl of her fingers sends a wave of electricity through your body, nearly bringing tears to your eyes as she repeatedly hits the spot that has you squirming and whimpering beneath her.
“You like it when I fuck you slow, huh?,” Natasha says into you, and it’s enough for the coil in your stomach to pull and clench. Your hand flies into her hair and your thighs close around her head, but she keeps going, each flick of her tongue and beckoning of her fingers inside of you deliberate. You pull her hair hard and she groans, your head flying back into the pillows as a long moan leaves your lips. Your thighs shake around Natasha’s head, and you can feel her smiling into you as you come. She gives you a few more hard thrusts of her fingers, continuing to suck on your clit until you’re too sensitive and pushing her away. She reluctantly detaches her mouth from your heat, gently pulling out her fingers and kissing your thighs. You just pant, staring at the ceiling as you feel her snake back up your body.
“Congratulations, I fixed your virginity problem,” Natasha says smugly, wiping her mouth.
“Stop it,” you shoot back, but you’re visibly spent, your chest rising and falling quickly and your pupils still blown with lust.
“Do you still love me?,” Natasha asks sheepishly, her hands on either side of your head as she looks down at you.
“Yes- god I love you so much come here,” you pull her face down to yours and kiss her messily, tangling your legs with hers.
“Well that’s good to hear,” Natasha mumbles into your lips.
“Now show me how you like to be fingered,” you say with a grin, pulling back to look at her.
Summary: Natasha Romanoff has been avoiding you for weeks, but it’s not anger or hurt — it’s something much more complicated. Something that feels like love. You’ve liked her for months, but never pushed, never crossed the line. Now, in the heart of the Avengers compound, with lunches missed, texts ignored, and tension simmering, the truth finally comes out. Slow-burn, emotional, and full of quiet, tender moments, this is a story about friendship turning into love, and the start of something worth risking it all for.
TW: 2020 Avengers vibe (Only subtle so I think you guys won’t suffer from any flashbacks)
Men and minors DNI
✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧
The compound was quiet that evening, quiet enough that Natasha could hear the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the soft murmur of a TV somewhere down the hall, and, annoyingly, the faint scrape of Clint somewhere in the vents. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you — not like this.
But there you were, sliding a folder across the conference table toward her while she worked on mission debriefs, that familiar tilt to your head that made her want to look at you a little longer than she should.
“You know,” you said lightly, “you don’t have to do these reports alone. I can—”
“I know,” she cut you off, not looking up. Not that she could stop her fingers from brushing against yours for a moment as she reached for a pen. “But you’re busy.”
“Busy?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean sitting in the lab, drinking coffee and glaring at files?”
Natasha didn’t answer, and she hated herself for how her stomach fluttered anyway. You laughed, just a short, soft thing that always hit her chest wrong. You didn’t know. You had no idea.
She had spent months resisting it, resisting the pull that had begun that night during one of the compound’s infamous “games nights.” You’d been sitting next to her on the couch, legs touching just enough that she noticed every time you shifted. She hadn’t even realised she was watching you until her hand brushed yours while reaching for a card, and her chest had gone tight, her mind screaming ‘not now, not this’, as a weird, warm ache settled there.
She’d spent the next weeks in denial. ‘It’s nothing. You’re imagining it. You’re just… tired from missions. You’ve survived worse.’ But she couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not your laugh, not the way you furrowed your brows when concentrating on the tiniest details of a case, not the way you’d hum a little tune while working.
And now she was avoiding you.
A lot.
Lunches she used to spend with you became “busy with mission prep.” Coffee runs she used to insist you go on together now had her heading in the other direction. She convinced herself it was safe — safe from feelings she didn’t know how to handle, feelings she’d promised herself she’d never let control her again.
It had been a month.
✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧
You noticed.
It started subtle — a late reply here, a missed text there. Then lunches that used to be laughter and teasing became quiet, curt nods and awkward silences. You could feel the distance, like a physical thing pressing against your chest. It made your stomach ache in a way you weren’t used to.
You hadn’t known why. Not at first. Maybe she was stressed. Maybe she had missions on her mind. But every time you saw her avoiding your gaze, or brushing past you without a word, the ache got worse.
And now you were standing outside her bedroom, holding your breath because you had to know. The slow walk of hallway tiles beneath your shoes felt like it lasted hours.
The door was closed. She was inside. You knocked softly. No answer.
You tried again, louder this time. “Natasha, can we talk?”
Footsteps approached, the click of her boots against the floor. The door cracked open, and there she was — sharp, poised, trying to look like she didn’t care. But you saw the hesitation in her eyes, the fraction of a second where she almost smiled, almost laughed, almost said something.
And you didn’t let her dodge it.
“Are you ignoring me?”
She froze, one hand lingering on the door frame. She wanted to lie. She wanted to say yes, no, maybe — anything that didn’t require the truth.
“You don’t—” she began, voice tight, controlled, but you stepped closer.
“You are,” you said, not yelling, just steady. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. Lunches, coffee, text messages… and now even standing in the same room with me is like I’m invisible. What did I do?”
Natasha’s throat tightened. Her chest hurt. She’d avoided this because she wasn’t ready. Not ready to admit it to herself, not ready to admit it to you.
“You didn’t do anything,” she said finally, almost whispering. “I… I just needed space.”
“You needed space from me?” The disbelief in your voice wasn’t anger. Not exactly. It was hurt, confusion, and that little spark of longing she hated because it made her chest ache.
“Yes,” she admitted. “It’s… complicated.”
You crossed your arms, not moving closer yet, not pushing. “Then help me understand. Because I don’t understand at all.”
She laughed quietly, bitterly, and hated herself when you flinched at the sound. “You wouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head.
“I might,” you said, softer this time. “I might actually get it if you’d just—”
“You wouldn’t,” she interrupted again, stepping back, glancing toward the floor. “I… I feel things, things I can’t control, things I—” Her voice caught. She didn’t want you to see the tremor in it. “I… I can’t just be… normal around you anymore. Not like this.”
You frowned. “Like what?”
Like love. She didn’t say it. She couldn’t. Not yet.
Her fingers clenched briefly around the doorframe, and you noticed how small she looked when she wasn’t trying to be the Natasha Romanoff everyone expected her to be. The Natasha who could handle anything. The Natasha who was untouchable.
You stepped closer anyway, gently. “Natasha…”
She flinched but didn’t step back. Her eyes were glassy now, and she hated herself for how much that made her chest squeeze. “I’ve spent years… training myself not to feel. Not to fall for people. And then…” She looked away. “…then you happened.”
Your heart thumped. You’d always liked her. Always. And hearing those words, even half-spoken, half-hidden, made something loosen in your chest.
“I… I didn’t know,” you whispered. “I had no idea you were—”
“I wasn’t,” she cut you off, frustrated with herself. “I’m not. I don’t—” She ran a hand through her hair. “…I only feel this way because I know you. Because you’re… you. And it’s too much, and I can’t…”
You reached out, brushing her hand lightly. She didn’t move away, just let you. “Nat… I haven’t gone anywhere,” you said. “I’ve liked you for months, but I didn’t push. I didn’t want to scare you or—”
Her breath hitched. She blinked, staring at your hand on hers. “…You liked me?”
“Yes,” you said, quietly but firmly. “And I still do. But I also… I respect you. I’m not going anywhere unless you let me.”
The silence stretched. The kind that made every heartbeat thunder in her chest. She wanted to run. She wanted to tell you to leave. She wanted to hide. But she didn’t. Not entirely. Because part of her knew she was finally ready to let herself feel again.
“You make it… hard,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I’m not good at… this.”
“I know,” you said. “We’ll take it slow. That’s all I want.”
Her lips twitched, the smallest smile breaking through her tension. “You… actually mean that?”
“Every word.”
Something shifted in her then — the tension in her shoulders, the tightness in her chest. She exhaled slowly. The wall she’d built around herself for so long started to crumble, just a little.
Natasha’s chest tightened as she stood there, your hand lightly holding hers. It should have been easy to push you away, to retreat behind the walls she’d built over years of surviving missions, betrayals, and heartbreaks. But she didn’t. Not this time.
“Why now?” she whispered, voice low, almost afraid she’d shatter if she said it any louder.
“Why now?” you echoed, tilting your head. “I’ve been noticing you avoiding me for a month. I’ve been wondering what I did wrong, why you didn’t laugh at my stupid jokes anymore, why you didn’t sit with me at lunch, why… everything.”
Her eyes flicked to yours, and suddenly the rational, trained spy Natasha felt like a teenager caught in the middle of her own heart. “Because… I’m scared. I’m scared that if I—if I let this happen… I’ll ruin everything. And I can’t lose you. Not like last time.”
Your hand squeezed hers gently. “You won’t lose me. Not now. Not ever.”
She blinked, surprised at the steadiness in your voice, the absolute certainty. And slowly, like water thawing from ice, the tension around her started to ease. “I… I don’t know how to do this. Not with feelings. Not with… love.”
“Then don’t do it perfectly,” you said softly, stepping a little closer. “Do it with me. That’s all I need. That’s all I want.”
Her breath hitched, and she swallowed, words lodged in her throat. “I’ve never… felt like this,” she admitted, almost to herself. “Not like this. It’s too much and… not enough. I don’t know how to explain it.”
You tilted your head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t have to explain. Just… let yourself feel it. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
The weight of her past heartbreak, the fear that had kept her avoiding you for weeks, started to dissolve under the simple truth of your words. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. But she also wanted this — you, standing there, patient, steady, and unwavering.
Her lips parted. “I think I… I might love you,” she whispered, the admission barely audible, like saying it too loud might shatter the fragile air between you.
You smiled softly, brushing your thumb along her cheek. “I know,” you murmured. “And I love you too.”
Her eyes widened, a spark of disbelief, and then relief. She laughed softly, a real laugh this time, unguarded and bright, and it felt like sunlight in the quiet room. “You… do?”
“Yes,” you said, voice steady. “I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you.”
And then, slowly, carefully, she leaned into you. Her forehead rested against yours, and she closed her eyes, letting herself just breathe you in, letting herself be here, in this moment, without fear.
“I’m… so scared,” she admitted, voice trembling. “Because I don’t fall like this… not easily. And it’s all too fast, and—”
“Shh,” you said, pressing a finger lightly to her lips. “We’ll take it slow. You and me. One step at a time. That’s all.”
Her lips quirked into a small, tentative smile, and she reached for your hand with both of hers. “One step at a time,” she agreed, and for the first time in weeks, maybe even years, she felt a sense of peace settle in her chest.
A knock at the door startled both of you — a faint “Nat, you still alive in there?” from Clint somewhere in the vents, followed by Thor’s voice: “I bring Pop-Tarts!”
Natasha groaned, but you laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and she allowed herself to melt a little more against you.
“Wanna… celebrate with a proper date?” you asked softly, brushing your nose against hers. “Like dinner? Somewhere just… us?”
Her lips curved into a mischievous, happy grin. “I’d like that. But only if you promise not to make me talk about paperwork.”
“I promise,” you said, laughing. “No paperwork. Just us.”
And then, finally, you closed the tiny space between your lips, pressing a gentle, tender kiss to hers. Not rushed. Not desperate. But all the quiet longing, the months of unspoken feelings, the slow burn finally finding its release, was there.
Her hands rested on your shoulders, hers gripping lightly as if she couldn’t believe this was real. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she whispered against your mouth.
“And I’ve waited just as long to feel it,” you replied.
When you pulled back just slightly, your foreheads still touching, she smiled — the real Natasha smile, free and soft and utterly hers. “I think… I could get used to this.”
“Good,” you said, tilting your head, “because I’m not going anywhere.”
The world outside the compound could wait. Clint could shriek from the vents. Thor could bring his Pop-Tarts. Steve could give his unofficial dad lectures. None of it mattered. All that mattered was you, and Natasha, and the slow, careful, perfect unraveling of the space between you.
And as she finally let herself rest against you fully, letting the warmth of your presence fill her chest, she knew something she hadn’t known in a long time: love didn’t have to hurt. Not when it was patient. Not when it was real. Not when it was with you.
The compound hummed quietly around you both, chaotic and bright, and Natasha finally let herself believe in something she’d thought she’d lost forever: a happy ending.
Because sometimes, love was slow, awkward, terrifying — and exactly as it should be.
And this was exactly as it should be.
✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading, my lovelys! I wanted to write a fic about demi!Natasha because I think it really fits her character. The Red Room took away so much of the trust she had, and for her, love can only come after she truly knows she can trust someone — even if she doesn’t always want to admit it. And if anyone has/is reading For As Long As I Can Remember, chapter two will be out tonight! And if you haven’t read it, definitely check it out here. 💛
She swallowed, taking in your face, your eyes, your lips, the way you looked at her. Her hand clenched around your waist, forcing herself to speak instead of just staring at you like a lovesick puppy that could never get what she wished for, craved, longed.
"Don't... don't say things like that." She whispered, looking away as she pursed her lips.
⧗ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑
The next morning, you decided to leave. You woke up with puffy eyes after crying yourself to sleep for what felt like the hundred times that month and decided you had enough. You just had enough and had to do something about it or you were surely on the right path of going completely insane. So you packed a couple of things and you left.
You left without a trace, without goodbyes because that would be just too much to handle for your already tired and aching heart. You left without a word to anyone the morning following the party that opened your eyes so clearly it actually made you wonder if you were blind before.
You left a single letter destined to your best friend Wanda and your... well, just Natasha - asking them to not look for you and promising to return home soon. Whether 'soon' was a couple of days, months or years, you did not know, but you did not mention that. You just knew you could not bear to see the look on their faces when you would announce your decision so you just... took the easy way out and left without looking behind. At least that was what you told yourself. Again and again. But you had to do this. You just had to.
⧗
It was around three months later that you opened the once familiar door with frantic eyes, scanning the empty common living room. Not finding the face you wanted, you decided to walk out and run to the one place you knew she would be at this time of the day. A bracelet was shining around your wrist as you bursted through the doors of the gym. You had a big beaming smile on your face as you walked in like you owned the damn place. And right now, it felt like you did.
"Natasha!"
The redhead was currently in the process of beating the hell out of a punching bag, sweaty and messy hair pulled back in a ponytail, her shirt clinging to her body like a second skin. She had been working out for a while now, her thoughts still running a mile a minute, to her displeasure.
She stopped in her tracks, eyes widening at the sound of her name being called out by the - oh, so familiar - voice, a voice she had been dreaming about for the last couple of months. She paused as her eyes zeroed in your direction, keeping in a breath she did not realize she was holding while her brain was too busy trying to convince her heart that it was not real. She would have thought she was dreaming if she did not know better. Maybe she finally managed to beat her insomnia without realizing.
"You're back..." She breathed out in disbelief, a swirling of emotions hitting her. Relief, anger, sadness, longing, ecstasy.
"I am!" You laughed happily, running to close the remaining distance between the two of you before throwing yourself into her arms, your own wrapping around her neck. You tucked your face into the sweaty crook of her neck, barely believing you were touching her skin with yours for the first time ever.
"Ooof, wait, you-"
Natasha stumbled a few steps back at the force, but she quickly caught herself, arms steadying you against her body as her hands sneaked under your thighs to hold you up like it was second nature to her, her eyes briefly fluttering shut as you hugged her close. Her heart clenched, beating wildly in her chest, her mind trying desperately to wrap around the fact that you were truly here, in her arms.
She took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Y-you're touching me." She said breathlessly. She quickly realized she did not feel pain. Only your warmth.
And then, that was all she could focus on.
"I am touching you." You beamed, pulling your face away to look down at hers, biting down your lip to control your smile at your proximity. You had never, ever, been so close to her, her hot breath fanning over your face. "I met with the sorcerer guy. He made something for me..." You grinned, slowly rolling your sleeve to show her the shiny band on your wrist.
Natasha's eyes flickered to your arm when you held it up, the shimmering silver bracelet catching her eye instantly. Her breathing was still a bit ragged from exercising and you being so close to her. Your body against hers and your face in such close proximity doing nothing to slow her racing heart down. She looked at you with wide eyes, a mix of disbelief and awe.
"A bracelet...?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, a mix of confusion, surprise and hope flickering in her gaze. She looked into your eyes again, wanting, needing to confirm the thought that was currently running through her head, needing you to confirm it. She raised one hand, trembling and tentative fingertips brushing your cheek.
You leaned into her touch then, not resisting the pull you felt inside of you as you turned your face to plant a kiss on the inside of her palm, your plush lips lingering on her skin, for the first time.
Natasha inhaled sharply, the touch sending a jolt of electricity right through her body like nothing she had ever felt before, like her whole world just shifted on its axis. Her hands trembled lightly, her hold on you involuntarily tightening. She had never felt your touch before and it felt like her senses were suddenly a thousand times more sensitive, her brain going into overdrive as her mind tried to grasp such a feeling.
She wanted to cry out in relief, wanted to pin you down right then and there and kiss you senseless and hug you until you were left breathless.
She let out a soft exhale, your skin hot against hers. She had imagined it so often, but actually feeling your skin against hers for the first time was something else entirely. Something nothing could have prepared her for, no matter how many times she imagined it.
She shook her head in disbelief, letting out yet another shaky breath.
"How does it feel...?" She asked in a whisper, her hand reverently caressing your cheek, her thumb slowly circling the skin of your cheekbone.
"Honestly? Like the best feeling in the world." You chuckled, loosening your hold on her to bring you down on your feet again, your arms still wrapped around her neck because you simply could not imagine being away from her for one single second.
Natasha loosened her grip on you to let you down, but her hands, her whole body really, was desperate to keep you close, her heart clenching at the thought of you leaving her again.
She licked her dry lips, her hands falling to rest on your hips and gripping them tightly, pulling you closer to her again, as close as possible, as if to reassure herself that you were really here, that this was not some kind of joke her tired brain was pulling on her. Her eyes never left your face, taking you in, burning every single detail into her memory from your flushed cheeks to the gleam in your eyes, her fingers twitching against the fabric of your clothes.
"Yeah?" She asked in a breathy whisper, her eyes flickering down to your mouth just for a moment.
"Definitely." You nodded, tugging her closer so you could hug her tightly, letting out a deep sigh of contentment close to relief.
Natasha melted in your arms, her eyes fluttering shut as she returned the embrace just as tightly, clinging to you like her life depended on it. She buried her face where your shoulder met your neck, her hands gripping your hips like she was scared you were going to simply disappear if she let you go even for a second. She relished in the feeling of your body against hers, your breath hitting against her skin, your scent invading her senses making her mind spin.
She could not explain the sense of calm that was spreading through her body as you both melted into the embrace, so much better than any kind of tranquilizer known to humans.
"I've dreamed of holding you like this so many times..." She confessed in a murmur after a while, nuzzling impossibly closer against your neck.
"Yeah? And... what else did you dream of?" You asked in a whisper, a hint of a shy smile on your face, your whole body buzzing with excitement.
She swallowed, her heart skipping a beat before it picked up its pace, heat rising to her cheeks, her fingers twitching against your back. She tilted her face slightly so her nose was pressed against the side of your neck, her hot breath fanning over your jugular, she relished in the way your skin erupted in goosebumps at the action. She dropped a feather light kiss on your neck before pulling away.
Natasha reached a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear then, studying your face, taking in all the details of your expression, mapping every inch of your face like she had never looked at you before.
She smiled, eyes still locked with yours as her hand gently caressed your jaw before she cupped your cheek, almost crying at the feeling of it all.
"So many things..." She admitted in a low tone, her forehead touching yours. "You have no idea."
You smiled, your fingers wrapping around her wrist to keep her hand there, the pad of your thumb brushing the soft skin of her pulse point.
Natasha closed her eyes briefly, a shiver running along her spine as your thumb traced the skin of her inner wrist, her pulse fluttering underneath your touch. She pulled away just enough to be able to lock eyes with you, the intensity of her gaze burning through you. Her heart was beating so loudly she believed you might hear it, especially with how close your chests were.
She looked at you intently, her fingers slowly tracing the lines of your face, feeling every inch of your warm skin, committing it to memory, knowing she would want to revisit the moment over and over in her head.
Your smile softened, fingers gently stroking up and down her arm now.
Natasha's skin tingled under your fingertips. It was almost too much, the way your gentle touch left a blazing trail on her skin, burning her, making her shiver, her pulse skyrocketing under your very fingertips, her thoughts spiraling out of control. She had dreamed of this, of your touch, your skin on hers, for so, so long. She could not believe her prayers were finally heeded after all this time.
Her body leaned into your touch, she could not resist it, it was impossible, intoxicating. It was so warm... and it felt so right. She locked eyes with you again, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly very dry lips, the fingers of her left hand slowly tracing the contour of your jaw.
"Can I...?" She asked in a breathless whisper, her eyes flickering down to your lips.
You bit down your lower one, eyes widening ever so slightly. God, it had been forever since you kissed someone. Meaning, basically when you found out you had powers in the first place. That was not a very pleasant memory to revisit. But now...
Now...
You nodded, eagerly, already leaning in.
If Natasha was not completely down for you before, she definitely was now, you had absolutely no idea just how much power you had over her, how easily you could bring her to her knees.
She inhaled hard, the sight of you biting your lip almost making her lose her grip on her control, her blood pumping hard through her veins, her whole body hyper-aware of yours. Her heart was beating so damn fast it almost hurt, but in the best way possible, with the prospect of something she had dreamed of for oh, so long about to become a reality. She leaned in, her eyes closing on their own will as her nose brushed against yours, her hot breath fanning against your slightly parted lips, her heart skipping a beat when your mouth finally brushed against hers, like a gentle, tentative, shy touch.
You smiled against her lips, gently pressing down on them a little more firmer, your eyelashes fluttering close at the gentle contact.
Natasha let out a breathless exhale, her fingers twitching. That seemed to be enough to break the floodgates of her restraint, her whole body moving of its own accord. She let out a low sigh before her hands cupped your face firmly this time, changing the angle of the kiss before her mouth pressed against yours desperately, her eyes shutting tight as she deepened the kiss, her entire world reduced to the touch of your warm lips against hers.
You melted into her, your lips parting to fit more of hers, your hands sliding along her chest to finally grip the fabric of her shirt at her hips, keeping her close.
Her entire world spun on itself as she kissed you with everything she had, she could not think, hell, she could barely even breathe, her mind blank of any thought except for the feeling of your body pressed against hers and your lips moving so perfectly with hers. It felt so right, she could not get enough, wanting more and more of it. Her mind was clouded with the sensations you were making her feel, as if your mere touch had the power to turn off her brain - and she let go, allowing herself to drown in you and you only.
One of her hands wandered to your waist to bring you closer, her other one gently tilting your face as her tongue brushed against the seal of your lips, silently asking for entrance.
A low - surprised but not unpleased - moan left your lips then, parting them for her, your hands sliding under the hem of her shirt to rest on her damp lower back, fingertips twitching.
Natasha shuddered as she swallowed a soft gasp that slipped past your lips, the sound sensing a bolt of heat straight to her lower stomach, her tongue slowly sliding into your mouth, a shiver running through her body as your fingers danced over her skin, leaving a trail of hot sparks. Her own fingers flexed against you, her hands tugging at your hips in an attempt to press you flush against her, her teeth gently nipping your lower lip in between kisses until she pulled away to catch her breath, face pink and lips kiss-swollen.
Your eyelids were still closed as you separated, your parted lips rosy from the kissing.
You exhaled, slightly shaking your head in disbelief.
"Wow..."
Natasha felt lightheaded as her brain tried to catch up with recent events. She felt drunk, like she was high on something, a sudden wave of adrenaline hit her when she looked at your face, rosy cheeks, rosy lips. She could not believe what had just happened, what she had just done... and how right it had felt, even better than in her wildest dreams.
A wide, somewhat goofy, disbelieving smile formed on her face as she registered your word. Her heart still stuttering pathetically in her chest, her fingers reaching up to brush your face as she stared at you, her brain still reeling from the kiss, her body buzzing with excitement. She blinked slowly, processing it all and trying to put her thoughts in order to wrap her head around the fact that she just kissed the woman she had been wanting to kiss for freaking ages if not more.
"Wow, indeed..." She replied with a low chuckle.
You giggled, blinking to focus on her, a soft smile finding your lips.
"I can't believe I had to wait so long for this... but I guess it was worth the wait." You whispered, one hand absently stroking her side.
Natasha let out a shaky exhale, her eyes falling closed as your hand brushed over the bare skin of her hip, sending another pleasant shiver along her spine. She did not even know how she managed to live so much time without your touch.
"Yeah, it was." She mumbled in a breathless whisper, her brain seemingly functioning again, her hand slowly trailing down your arm before taking a hold of yours and intertwining your fingers together. The sight made her smile like a lovesick schoolgirl and she frankly did not give a damn. "Absolutely worth the wait." She added, her free hand moving from your face to the back of your head, her fingers twirling the strands of your hair as she pulled you closer, her nose brushing against yours.
"Does it always feel so good?" You asked in a low tone, your smile widening as the tip of her nose touched yours.
Natasha chuckled lowly, her hand moving to rest against the side of your neck, her fingertips gently tracing the soft skin of your pulse point, noting the way your heart was beating just as fast as hers.
"Nothing feels the way it does when it's with you." She replied, locking eyes with you, watching a flash of something flicker through your gaze, making her stomach twist and turn in a way she knew all too well.
"You smooth talker..." You teased, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her closer, locking your lips together again. Because, really, how could you not?
Natasha smiled against your mouth, her hands grasping your hips and pulling you flush to her, holding you like she would fall to pieces if she let go. She hummed against your lips, the tip of her tongue darting out to trace your upper lip, savoring the sensation of your body so close to hers.
"And you like it just fine." She mumbled in between kisses, her voice carrying just a hint of breathlessness as one of her hands gently squeezed your hip.
"Oh my-guys! This is disgusting." Wanda whined as she entered the gym, walking towards the both of you with one hand covering her eyes.
You froze, glancing back at Natasha with wide eyes.
The redhead closed hers as she let out a quiet sigh, she had completely forgotten the rest of the world even existed. She slowly - reluctantly - pulled away from you.
"You have terrible timing." She half-snorted in annoyance, her hands still on your hips but keeping some distance between the two of you, not wanting to let go just yet as she watched Wanda coming closer.
"I'm happy for you, truly. You have no idea. But my God, don't make me see that every single day from now on." Wanda said in a fake disgusted tone, finally coming to a stop next to you. "And you..." She grumbled, narrowing her eyes as she pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Do not disappear like you did ever again!" She exclaimed, swatting your arm.
"Hey!" You frowned, pulling away from Natasha to stay away from Wanda's angry hand. "...I wrote you guys a letter to let you know." You replied with a light blush of guilt on your cheeks, knowing just how much you were in the wrong here.
Natasha's eyes stayed trained on you, silently studying your face and the way that cute blush spread over your cheeks as Wanda scolded you.
"Yeah, you wrote us a letter telling us to not search for you and then came back almost four months later. I-we were worried sick, you idiot." Natasha chimed in, her tone mildly chiding as she sneaked an arm around your waist to keep you close to her.
"I... I'm sorry. I genuinely did not know how much time it would take so I did not want you guys to look for me." You shrugged, letting your own arm wrap around her back as you leaned into her side.
Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes. The reality of the situation coming back crashing down on her.
"Well, you could have at least let us know you were still alive every once in a while instead of ghosting us..." She grumbled, rolling her eyes as she tugged you slightly closer, the feeling of you against her side making everything feel a little bit better.
"I'm sorry..." You whispered, shooting her a tentative sheepish smile, dropping a kiss on her shoulder and offering Wanda an apologetic look.
The latter was trying to keep up her scolding face and not let it crumble in front of the small display of affection but it was failing miserably, a fond smile slowly taking over her face as she let out a small scoff, shaking her head.
"You better not pull a stunt like that ever again, or I will track you down and kick your sorry ass, I swear to God." Natasha chided half-seriously.
"And I'll gladly help her." Wanda smirked, her eyes flashing red before she blinked and you were left wondering if you saw right.
Natasha hummed at her friend’s comment, a sly grin on her face.
"See, Wanda agrees. You don't wanna end up with the both of us on your ass the next time you decide to go on the run, do you?" Natasha teased, her fingers absently tracing your hip, glancing at Wanda who nodded in agreement.
"Relax, you guys. I promise I won't do that again. But it was for the better. Those weeks were... awful." You pursed your lips, glancing at the shiny bracelet around your wrist that came from very hard labor.
Wanda extended her hands for you, giving you a look. You let her inspect it, her eyebrows furrowing.
"I know it's not a long term solution but it's what we know works for now. It gives me headaches if I wear it too long, but... it'll do for now. Mr Strange promised to help me gain control of my powers eventually."
Natasha remained quiet as you spoke, her eyes dropping to the bracelet around your wrist, to Wanda, to the bracelet again. She did not miss the serious expression that crossed the witch’s face as she scrutinized the simple jewelry. Natasha's heart twisted in her chest at the mention of the headaches, her grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, her brows furrowing with concern. She wished she could have been there to help you, to ease the pain, to just make sure you were alright.
"Hold on, you get headaches with this? How can you be sure it's good for you then...?" She asked in a low tone, trying not to sound worried but failing miserably.
"It's fine, Nat. I’m okay." You replied with a gentle smile, squeezing her hip.
She gave you a skeptical glance, her concern obvious as she huffed.
"It's not fine. If it's causing you headaches, it's not fine." Natasha pressed, her tone firm but still carrying a hint of her underlying concern.
"If this is what it costs me to be able to touch you guys like a normal person, then yes, it is fine." You replied, the tone of your voice leaving no room for argument, shooting her a look before glancing back at Wanda's concerned gaze. You squeezed her hand reassuringly, offering her a gentle smile.
Natasha opened her mouth to protest at your words, opening and closing it a few times in frustration, a million thoughts and objections passing in her mind but she decided to bite her tongue. You sounded so certain, so sure, there was no point arguing with you, you were already dead set on using that damned bracelet and there was nothing she could do to convince you otherwise.
She let out a long, slightly annoyed exhale, her head tilting back to look away as her eyes fixed on the wall, unable to look at you or Wanda right now. Her heart twisted at your words, her chest feeling suddenly tight with a mixture of a hundred emotions : concern, affection, helplessness, guilt, protectiveness...
"You're so goddamn stubborn..." She mumbled in a low voice.
"That she is... I'll leave you two alone to go cook something for tonight. We have to celebrate your return home!" Wanda exclaimed happily, she gave you a side hug before quickly exiting the room.
You sighed, your eyes lingering on her retreating form before you ultimately glanced back at Natasha and her worried expression.
You tilted your face, arching an eyebrow.
Natasha took a deep and calming breath, her shoulders drooping slightly. Her gaze traveled over your face, lingering on your lips for a moment before finally meeting your eyes. She studied you for a few moments as if to check again that you were really here.
"Is it because of me?" She asked quietly, her touch gentle as she reached for your arms, her voice low. Her body was instinctively drawn closer to yours. "... because of what I said at the party?"
"No. No, Natasha. It was just... the straw that broke the camel's back. I yearned for this kind of connection for as long as I can remember." You whispered, shifting to face her properly, your eyes softening. "I remembered Bruce talking about the sorcerer supreme and I needed to try something. Because if this man can't help me, no one can. And I know this is not the ultimate solution, I know. But I think it's worth it for now." You added, leaning in to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth that was tugged downwards.
Natasha hummed, her eyes closing for a brief moment at the feeling of your barely-there kiss against her skin. She lifted a hand to gently cup your face, her fingertips absently tracing the light purple skin under your eyes before her thumb brushed against your plush lower lip.
"Just... promise me you'll take the damn thing off whenever it gives you headaches, okay?"
"I promise, honey. Now... Why don't you show me what else I missed out about physical touch?" You said in a teasing tone, a small cheeky smile tugging on your features as your arms easily wrapped around her neck.
Natasha could not help the shiver that ran down her spine at your words, the prospect far too enticing for her to even try to play coy or act unaffected.
"Oh, I can gladly do that..." She breathed out, the word rolling of her tongue in a sultry tone that should not be allowed. Her arms sneaked around you before she picked you up with a smirk on her lips, your ankles locking behind her back. "But first, I'm taking you on the best date of your life." She smiled, leaning up to drop a lingering kiss on your lips.
"Mhm, ambitious. I like it." You replied teasingly, hands cupping her face as you met her lips in the middle of another breath-taking kiss.
And just the prospect of knowing she would be by your side from now on was everything you could ask for.
It will be okay. And sometimes it won't be. But with her in your corner, you felt like there was nothing that you could not face.
You smiled brighter as you touched her delicate face with your fingertips, glad to be able to do that now. But like she said to you a couple of months ago, this was deeper than skin. And sure, you knew it then. But you definitely understood it in the way she looked at you earlier.
You could not lie, though... touching her felt like a fever dream you really did not want to wake up from.
a/n: partnered with @norwayromanoff on the cheating fic! check hers out ☺️
minors do not interact
gold heels pad against the marble floors of the expensive hotel that your boyfriend booked for your one-year anniversary. each step echoes in the corridor, a rhythm that does not match the dragging weight in your chest.
black and white framed photos adorn the hotel’s luxurious walls, a stark contrast to the bland and otherwise boring relationship you’ve been trudging through for the past 365 days. everything here screams elegance and carefully curated romance– something he thinks you want, something you know you don't.
you agreed to meet him in the hotel lobby after he finished getting ready, however long that could take. resting your head against the wall of the elevator, you can’t help but feel the weight of the anniversary pulling you down. the red roses and envelope with a quickly scribbled letter feel heavier than necessary as they hang in your right hand.
shoulders drop as you walk out of the elevator, a harsh exhale of air escaping your lips. it’s almost loud enough to drown out the doubts you have lingering in your head.
“looking good,” a raspy voice calls from behind you, “you get all dressed up for me?”
the voice startles you, causing you to jump a bit. turning around to the black couches behind the fogged glass doors, you’re met with a red head whose green eyes you’ve woken up to far too often to even remember. pride sparks when you see her in the brown leather jacket you gifted her a few weeks ago.
you saunter over and she groans as she takes in the sway of your hips, “no, but i see you came dressed to impress. i take it you like your gift?”
she chuckles and nods gently, her eyes watching how your glossed lips move as you speak to her. her green eyes are trained on your form with a hunger that makes your knees weaken.
“i like it a lot better when you take it off me,” she fires back, voice raspy enough to make your pulse quicken.
calloused hands move to hold your hips as you stand in front of her, her fingers digging possessively into your dress, “you’re here with him?”
her voice is rough as she brings up your boyfriend. you can see the way her shoulders tense and can feel how her fingers dig into your hips. her voice hardens at the mention of him and you can feel the way she restrains herself from impulsively doing something reckless.
“you know it’s our anniversary,” natasha rolls her eyes as you confirm why you’re here, “and you shouldn’t even be here. what if he sees us?”
natasha rolls her eyes, scoffing, “you shouldn’t even be with him at all, you know that? and roses? really? does he even know that your favorite flower is hibiscus?”
the mention makes your chest tighten, a grin on your face. your chest tightens, not from shame– but from being seen.
natasha tilts her head up at you, a cocky smirk on her face as she sees how your eyes glaze over, “you know he doesn’t make you feel as good as i make you feel, baby.”
your chest and face flush, a bashful expression and scoff escape your lips as you look away from the redhead. seeing this, she takes the opportunity to lean forward and place a kiss on your abdomen, glancing up to see your reaction with a smile on her face.
you smile back softly, running a hand through her hair. you don’t pull back and she takes the opportunity to place an open mouthed kiss on the palm of your hand, causing your to breath hitch.
“leave him,” she whispers into your skin, “you know you don’t love him. you know he won’t be the one you marry.”
you say nothing, simply watch as she holds you with that possessive attitude you’ve grown to love. keeping your eyes on hers, she stands and grabs your hand.
you follow her, like you always do. her hair bounces with her, a smirk carves her face as she sees how willingly you come. truth is, there’s nowhere you wouldn’t follow her blindly.
you two stop in front of a hotel room— because of course she would find a way to stay in the same building.
she opens the door for you, “he’s probably still trying to fix his tie while i have his girlfriend in my room.”
her voice is cocky, albeit not untrue in the slightest. you shake your head in amusement as you sit on her bed, leaning against your elbows as you tilt your head up to her. an innocent smile on your lips as you watch her.
she wasted no time when she leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, hard and claiming. your hands tangling in her hair as you try to pull her as close as possible. natasha’s hands find your waist, greedily holding your body flush against hers.
a whine escapes from your lips as natasha pulls back from you, a predatory gaze in her eyes as she takes in the look on your face. swollen pouty lips, glazed eyes and a heaving chest just from kissing her.
she leans closely to your ear, tugs your lobe between her lips just before she whispers, “see? he’ll never have you like this, baby. he’ll never have you like i do.”
you gasp as she licks a stripe down your neck before biting your collarbone hard enough to leave a mark, “i bet you called my name the last time he touched you.”
she tips your chin up and forces you to meet her gaze, “does he even know what you sound like when you beg? no, only i get that.”
your eyes are lidded, gloss now long gone and smeared down your chin, lips swollen and slick. you grin, nodding at natasha’s words— you know she’s right.
“go play house with him all you want, baby,” her voice is rough and low, “you’ll come crawling back tonight.”
Summary: Natasha’s been jealous before, but it hits different when it comes to you. Who knew she had it in her?
Inspired by this and posted with permission!
Part 1, part 2, and part 3
“Oh, huh. That’s weird,” you mumble, eyeing something on your phone.
Natasha looks up from her studies, tilting her head curiously. “What is it?”
“Uh, my ex just texted me,” you tell her, “She said she wants to get lunch.”
Natasha can’t stop her brows from furrowing into a frown, the reaction involuntary, immediate. She tries to school her expression. She tries to tamp the jealousy down.
“Are you going to go?” Oh, how quickly the jealousy transitions to insecurity. Who is this ex of yours? What does she look like? How long were you two dating? Were you two serious? Did you say ‘I love you’? Should she be worried?
You soften, getting up from your bed and walking over to her to press a gentle kiss to her temple. Her attempt to conceal her nervousness is admirable, but her tone and the look on her face give her away easily. She always has been expressive. “No, I’m not going to go. I have no reason to,” you reassure her.
That should’ve been the end of it. It was just one little text.
“Fucking hell, she’s blowing up my phone,” you tell Natasha the next day.
“Your ex? She texted you? Again?” Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. But still, insecurity follows.
“Yeah, do you think I should block her?”
Natasha wants to tell you ‘Yes, block her, preferably immediately, like literally right now, in front of me, please.’ But what comes out is a weak, nonchalant shrug and an “It’s up to you” as she feigns indifference about the whole issue.
You can sense she’s still uncomfortable but don’t want to press her, electing to allow her to come to you, to choose when to talk. You haven’t been dating all too long, and this is new territory for the two of you, after all.
Natasha’s frowning the rest of the day, quiet and lost in her head.
Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.
That night, you block your ex’s number, trying to wash your hands of the whole situation.
Unfortunately, it’s never that easy, and you’re reminded of the stubbornness—your ex always was willful to a fault—that came with your last relationship when a few days later, you’re on campus with Natasha. She’s walking you to your next class, hand in hand, and you spot your ex in the distance. You’re unsurprised but displeased when she makes a beeline straight for the two of you.
“Incoming,” you mutter under your breath.
Natasha glances your way in confusion before noticing the quickly approaching girl. “Who’s-”
She’s interrupted.
Your ex’s greeting isn’t pleasant, straight to the point. “You never texted me back.”
Natasha deflates. Oh, that’s who.
“I didn’t see the need to,” you respond calmly albeit slightly cold.
“I just wanted to get lunch, catch up… you know, for old time’s sake.”
You sigh. “What ‘old time’s sake’? We broke up over six months ago. Badly, might I add.”
That brings out a wince.
“I just miss you is all.”
It’s Natasha’s turn to wince. Her jealousy flares as she looks at the girl in front of you two, speaking to you so familiarly. To Natasha’s dismay, she’s pretty. And there’s that insecurity again. She’s not sure which emotion is worse, and she can’t help the thought that maybe your ex would be a better fit for you, her self-doubt flaring. Your ex isn’t bookish or nerdy, appears to be very confident and self-assured, she’s not stuttering or bumbling her way through the conversation like Natasha often would be. But considering the way you’re speaking to her, it doesn’t sound like you’re open to rehashing your previous relationship, and that gives Natasha some semblance of comfort.
What Natasha doesn’t realize is that all of those ‘faults’ she’s generating a list of in her head are what makes you like the girl so much. Her studious nature, her frequent ramblings regarding something she found interesting that day or something she’s passionate about, even her stutter… you’re incredibly endeared and attracted to it all. You’re glad that she’s unlike your ex. You wouldn’t have her any other way.
“Look, fuck off, will you?” you say, agitated, annoyed. Natasha nods in agreement, squeezing your hand. Whether or not she’s supporting you or asking for reassurance is unclear to her. You squeeze her hand back.
Your ex finally glances over at her, as if just now realizing you’re standing with someone, holding said someone’s hand.
“Who’s this?” she questions, not at all kindly.
“This is Natasha, my girlfriend,” you say, the word pointed.
Natasha’s eyes widen slightly at that, at the certainty of your words. You two never established what you are, so the label catches her off guard. It must just be to get your ex off your back, right? There’s no way you truly mean that right now.
Your ex notices Natasha’s stunned expression and smiles at the chink in your armor. You’re lying. Her eyes narrow slyly.
“Doesn’t seem that way to me. You two don’t appear to be all that serious yet given your girlfriend’s reaction to that statement.”
You chance a glance at Natasha, taking in her slightly wide-eyed stare. Fuck, you didn’t think this through. Does she not want to be your girlfriend? You shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have put the her in this position. Things have been going so well with her that you just figured it was safe to presume. You certainly want to be exclusive, to have her as your girlfriend, to be able to call her yours completely, but perhaps Natasha doesn’t feel the same way just yet.
Both you and Natasha’s minds are racing with worries, each of you stuck in your own head, misplaced insecurities overwhelming, and your ex watches it all with a smug look on her face.
“I didn’t mean-” you try backtracking.
Your ex cuts you off, bitter, malicious, intending on further driving a wedge between you two.
“Didn’t mean to… what? Lie about your relationship status? Because clearly, she doesn’t feel the same way.”
You’re floundering, face heating up. Natasha’s never seen you this flustered before, and this isn’t the circumstance she wanted surrounding the pretty tint coming to your face.
She steps up, surprising all three of you. “No, no, she’s right. Girlfriend,” Natasha snaps.
Your head whips over to look at her.
Your ex raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that? You two seemed to be on two different pages.”
Natasha feels herself almost falter at the skeptical question, but she doesn’t let it show. “Look, I don’t know what you’re intending to gain from this interaction, but I’d really prefer it if you left me and my girlfriend alone. You’re going to make her late for class.”
Natasha’s tone is firm, unyielding, and the surprise you feel at the usually nervous and often conversationally struggling girl standing up for you and your relationship without stumbling quickly makes way to awe. You’ve never seen her like this before, her body taking a step forward to place herself in front of you as if to block you from view, to shield you from your ex, a fire in her eyes, a warning clear in her tone. Natasha’s not backing down, she’s not wavering despite how anxiety-inducing as this situation is, despite how much her instincts tell her to tuck her tail and flee, despite how rampant her jealousy and insecurity are running. She lets go of your hand to wrap her arm snugly around your waist, drawing you into her body almost possessively. You shudder at the contact, your eyes glued to your girlfriend’s face, unable to be drawn away, your ex’s presence now completely forgotten and ignored.
Your ex falters, not having expected something like this from the nerdy girl. She tries addressing you, bypassing Natasha.
“No, don’t talk to her. You’re talking to me right now,” Natasha says, “Apparently you didn’t quite get it when she didn’t text you back, when she blocked you, so let’s make it abundantly clear. You’re going to leave us alone, leave her alone. She’s not interested in ‘getting lunch’ or ‘catching up’, and quite frankly, you can’t be so obtuse as to not understand that at this point. Back the hell off. I don’t want you coming anywhere near my girlfriend again.”
Your ex just stares, and then she’s throwing out an annoyed ‘hmph’ and rolling her eyes. “Whatever. This isn’t worth it. I guess enjoy it while it lasts,” she mutters, stalking off.
You shift to fully face Natasha, watching as her mask of confidence slips now that your ex is no longer looking. Natasha lets out a blatantly relieved breath at your ex walking away, trying to quell the aftermath of anxiety from the confrontation that is still making her chest feel tight, but despite her facade dropping, your eyes are still wide, shocked and surprised, as you reel over how the conversation just played out. Out of all things, you never expected that.
“That was hot,” is all you say at first.
Natasha’s face flushes pink, and you give a quick kiss to overheated cheek.
“Yeah, well, you’re late for class,” she murmurs in response, unsure what else to say, how to respond to such a statement.
“Oh, I’m not going to class,” you tell her, voice filled with promise, beginning to tug her back in the direction of your dorm room, “There’s something else I need to take care of now.”
-> *ੈ✩‧₊˚ natasha romanoff x gn!reader | mostly written in lowercase | fluff, blurb, wrote this with scarlett johansson's natasha in mind ( specifically in black widow ), also OG6 avengers are mentioned because I miss them sm, possible grammer & spelling mistakes, word count: 425 |
natasha likes doing things for you.
whether it was peeling fruits for you, or saving you the trouble of carrying heavy things. natasha was always just one call away.
and it's more of a selfish thing really.
when you turn to her, try to insist, but then give in—because she's mastered the art of being so irresistible—with a smile, that's natasha's own kryptonite.
natasha likes doing things for you, because she wants you to know that she's reliable. and while that goes without saying. she is a trained spy and assassin after all. it makes her feel good to know that you'd trust her to protect you, just as much as to let her fold your clothes.
it's a selfish thing, no really.
because she isn't opposed to the idea of the other avengers doing something for you, when on a mission. but when you're visiting them at the tower, she'd rather you ask her to pick something up on the shelves instead of steve, thor, or clint.
she'd rather you ask her about a new tech installed, or a new project, in the building instead of tony or bruce.
and she'd rather you ask her if you want company instead of anyone else.
“I wasn't sure if you were here.” you murmur, looking up at natasha after laying your head on her lap. she’s fresh out of the shower after a long day of training. and you can smell that familiar shampoo on her, the one you’re so obsessed with. natasha lets out a sound, that’s between a scoff and a chuckle. “well I am now.” absentmindedly, she twirls a strand of your hair, and you smile as you lean into her touch.
“I’m not hosting a movie night to watch you two lovebirds.” tony chimes in, already pouring himself a drink across the both of you, and—conveniently—bursting your own intimate bubble. natasha sighs, leaning back on the couch. you can see the slight irritation in her face, but it quickly goes away when you sit up to lean your head on her shoulder.
“I thought movie night was stupid?” bruce says, sitting down next to tony. “apparently not when ms. potts insists on coming over.” natasha grins, crossing her arms. “are you impying that isn't reasonable?” tony raises a brow at her, falling right into their usual banter. but natasha doesn't add into it, she just sits back and turns her attention back to you.
Summary: When your destiny is already written, no matter how fast you run or where you hide, the universe will always find a way to put you back on track. Sadly, no one told you that the person you swore you hated the most would be your soon-to-be roommate. Or that your body would crave her more than you would ever admit.
Pairing: g!p! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader
Warnings(+18): College!AU, fuckgirl! Natasha Romanoff, golden girl! reader, implied eating disorders, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, angry sex, car sex, blowjob, cum swallowing, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, angst (if you squint)
you don’t have permission to translate/repost my work anywhere. Please be respectful. Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated. MDNI — Regina.
A/N: Hello there! Welcome to my madness ♡ I know, I owe you all other works but give me time, I’m working on it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new series ♡ thank you for reading
Series masterlist || Main masterlist
The first time Natasha saw you was during a frat party.
You were hanging out with your friends and she was caught up with some blonde that was trying to get in her bed and as pretty as you could be, the redhead had already an easy target.
And she forgot about you, honestly. Not that you were easy to forget, but a drunken night that ended up getting what she wanted wasn’t the best moment to meet you.
Months passed before she actually saw you again. This time, though, she really looked at you. Her head wasn’t buzzing, her skin wasn’t numb, but she might as well be drunk because you were hot.
Truth to be told, Natasha only enrolled in spanish class because pretty girls hung a lot around the language department.
Her mother taught her different languages since she was little because that’s what kids should be doing, not playing with dolls or whatever. So the class meant nothing, another easy credit and a chance to flirt with pretty girls.
You walked into that lecture hall like you owned the place. Confident, hot, dressed like this was a catwalk and not a class and you had this entitled smile that she couldn’t wait to wipe it out.
Nothing turned her on more than a brat ready to be tamed. She lived for that type of girl.
Since it was just the introduction class of the course, Natasha barely paid attention. Her eyes were already assessing the whole class, potential targets to flirt with but she always found her way back to you.
Naturally, she approached you at the end of the lecture.
Hands inside her washed out black jeans, a grey oversized sweatshirt and hair a little messy. She didn’t have to try that hard, Natasha knew she was hot. But that day, she also didn’t plan on flirting right away so she wasn’t dressed to impress.
She tapped your shoulder as you gathered your things, your smile faded away when you saw her and your eyes clouded with confusion.
Maybe the redhead wasn’t well aware of you. But you sure as hell knew about college’s favourite fuck girl: Natasha Romanoff. You understood why; she really was attractive, hot and she always drove around with a motorbike that added to her bad girl energy.
But you couldn’t feel more sorry for the girls that kept falling for her little game. Natasha Romanoff was well-known not for her looks, what she was packing or her charming smiles. No, Natasha’s reputation laid on the fact that she never called back. And girls were lucky if she gave them a second night.
At this point, whoever fell for that it was their fault and not Natasha’s. Girls should know better. You knew better.
“Yes?” you asked softly.
You already knew what she wanted, it was written all over her face when she kept grinning at you like she could give you the world. For one night, but she would give it to you.
Green eyes unashamedly checking you out, taking in every inch of yourself. Crimson blouse with exactly three buttons undone, a cute necklace resting on your collarbone, a black skirt, heels and a messy bun you made for yourself mid-class trying to focus. You were wearing soft make up and your glossy lips were calling Natasha.
“May I help you?” you insisted, a little irritated because she wasn’t even making the effort to pretend.
Natasha didn’t need to pretend, though. Her reputation spoke volumes, the rumours were her best allies and not once did she try to clear her name. People could believe whatever they wanted, half a truth was more than enough for her as long as she got what she wanted.
“Oh yes, I got a little distracted and forgot taking notes. Mind walking me through what happened?” she grinned, white teeth showing, twinkling eyes full of empty promises and her voice was husky, sultry and alluring.
But you snorted.
Natasha was expecting a little babble, cheeks flushed, clammy hands trying to give her your notebook and hopeful eyes. All she got was amused eyes, a snort and not a single change in your body.
“I’m pretty sure there was nothing to take note about unless you need to write down the final project” you offered and pretended to clean her shoulder, getting more amused by the second because Natasha was processing your reaction “Don’t worry, Professor Gonzalez will disclose more details during the course. Now, if you excuse me…”
You started walking away, leaving a very confused Natasha behind until she finally reacted. You heard the squeak of her sneakers as she approached you. As entertaining that messing with the redhead could be, you also were on a tight schedule.
Natasha didn’t know that, she didn’t need to and she never paid attention. Because if she did, she would’ve known that during all those months you both had crossed paths more than once. That you shared friends or that you both went to same gym.
Most importantly, she would’ve known that you were almost as popular as she was. The difference relied on how everyone saw you both. Natasha was hot and smart but easy to get. You were hot and smart but unreachable.
Not that you intended that to happen. Your careers were more important, you were very strict with yourself and making time for your friends was already hard. You didn’t need to add a whiny partner into the mix.
“Wait, I just-“ Natasha didn’t have an excuse so you kept walking “I guess thank you? For giving me some light” she started walking next to you, charming smile back in place “What’s your name?”
Unlike Natasha, you couldn’t care less if she didn’t know your name. In fact, it was an achievement because that meant you hadn’t been on her radar until that day.
“I’m (Y/N) and I’m already late for my next class” you said pushing the door open but the redhead was simply not getting the message or she was ignoring it.
“I don’t have class, I will walk you” she took your backpack and you looked at her stunned “I wouldn’t be a gentlewoman if I didn’t help a pretty girl like you. I’m-“ she offered you her hand and you looked down and then back to her.
“I know who you are, Ms Romanoff” you snatched your backpack from her shoulder and she frowned “Thank you for the offer, but I rather walk by myself. I’ll see you at spanish”
And you walked away, again. This time, Natasha just scoffed but decided you weren’t worth her precious time. It was your loss, you were a forgettable pretty face she just wanted for a quick fuck.
But Natasha was wrong. So damn wrong.
(—)
The effect you had on Natasha reminded her of the day she bought her bike, thinking it was one of a kind just to start seeing it everywhere.
It started small. Spanish classes kept going, she flirted with almost every girl in the language department and the redhead ignored you as much as you ignored her. Well, she tried because Natasha found herself glancing at you more than once, more than she would ever admit.
But that was inevitable, she had to see you every damn day and during that class with your insufferable smile and your know-it-all ass.
Then, she saw you at the gym over a treadmill as your coach tried to flirt with you and you just smiled. Natasha noticed you went three times a week and usually at the same hour as her, how could she miss that?
All of a sudden, the campus wasn’t that big and the hallways weren’t that crowded because you also bought your coffee at the same time. You crossed paths when changing classes. And you visited the library at the same hour as her.
You were fucking everywhere. And, it only got worse.
Natasha was walking around campus, side by side with Clint and Steve. They were talking about the next party and how they were going to get all they needed. She was humming when she saw you talking with no other but Wanda Maximoff.
She almost growled. You also knew her friends? How did she not know this?
You were smiling, laughing even. Something genuine and not the type of smile you always offered her when she talked in class, like you felt sorry for her because you thought you were better.
“Romanoff, come on! We are going to be late” Clint snapped his fingers in front of her and followed her gaze “Staring at Wanda again? You said she was like a sister to you, if you put it like that it sounds fucked up”
Steve scrunched his nose at those words and also followed Natasha’s gaze. He smiled when he saw you.
“Oh, look, she’s with (Y/N). Should we invite her?” Steve said cheerfully and that caught Natasha’s attention.
“Wait, you know her?”
Clint laughed at that. Steve Rogers had been crushing on you for a year when he met you during economics class. You were so sweet and helped him out in your free time. But Steve was too shy to ask you out, even more so when Sam tried his luck and you turned him down without a blink.
“You don’t?” Clint snorted and Natasha furrowed her brows when looking at him “How can you not know about everyone’s favourite golden girl? I assumed you already tried to hit that”
“I know her” Natasha rushed to say, ignoring the slight blush that spread over her cheeks “I just don’t find her that hot”
Clint took a moment to read Natasha. He noticed the way her body was stiffened, the blush in her cheeks and how her eyes darkened with frustration. And he laughed. Very loudly.
“Oh, you tried your shot” he kept laughing, bending down as he grabbed his abdomen “Man, how could I miss that? I would’ve paid to watch her saying no to you. The mighty Natasha Romanoff can’t have any girl she wants after all”
Steve chuckled, avoiding Natasha’s glare. There was comfort in the constant confirmation that you rejected everyone. So if he ever found the courage to ask you out and you said no, he wouldn’t feel that bad.
“I didn’t try anything” that was half a lie, she never even got the chance “Besides, no one is untouchable. You just have to find a way”
Clint snorted again and Natasha rolled her eyes with annoyance. You were starting to walk away and Steve ran after you, deciding by himself to invite you to the party as Clint kept his amused grin.
“She is. Most of us had tried and got turned down” he sighed, amused by his sad attempt because at least he got out with a good friend like yourself “I nearly had faith in you, though. But in all honesty, most of my money was on her”
Natasha watched your interaction with Steve. The way you offered him a soft smile as he shifted nervously. How Wanda was clung to your arm as she tried to convince you along with Steve before you could say no. And how ridiculous hot you looked biting your lip and pretending like you didn’t know the answer yet.
“Most of you weren’t me” Natasha decided and Clint snorted “Stop with that, Barton. I’m serious”
Clint wrapped his arm around her shoulders and chuckled.
“I know you are, Icarus” he sighed and she smacked his arm off “Doesn’t mean it won’t be fun to watch you get burned”
Those words landed harsher than they should’ve had. As if you were out of reach, something too precious for Natasha’s touch. They were a challenge for her. To prove Clint wrong. To bring you down from your cloud. And to prove herself her charm around ladies was never questioned.
(—)
By Friday, Natasha’s mind was set on one simple goal. You would leave that party trembling and regretting putting her on hold for so long.
It was mean but her friends teased her after Clint told them you turned her down. She was now doing it for her own pride too. And you weren’t helping your case when you walked into Steve’s house wearing shorts and a crop top. It was like you were asking her to do it.
The redhead noticed that, in fact, all her friends knew you and how they all seemed half defeated but half happy to be just friends. After all, you were more than just a pretty face to them.
You could be mean if you wanted to. But those close to you knew about your kind heart, how hard you were on yourself and the type of friend you were even when your schedule was tight and rigorous. And you were incredibly smart, compatible with all of them as you chat.
Natasha was just too stubborn to even give you a chance. It was a tantrum; someone told her she couldn’t have what she wanted and now she was determined on getting it.
She couldn’t care less about consequences, they had never stopped her.
“Maximoff! Are you friends with the girl talking with your sister?” Natasha grinned at Pietro when he walked passed by and he chuckled, giving her a pat on the shoulder as if he was already sorry for her.
“I am and I heard you were going try your shot” he chuckled again and Natasha rolled her eyes “But I will help you out with closing the gap” she raised a brow and he shrugged, wearing a smirk “maybe I enjoy a little too much watching her reject people, she gets… creative”
“You say it like you had never tried” Natasha said bitterly, why was everyone so damn sure you wouldn’t fall for her?
“Oh, it crossed my mind but Wanda told me she would kill me if I ruined her friendship” Pietro shrugged “Besides, she’s my best friend too. Come on, I’ll introduce you”
Natasha followed him. She had better chances if the idea came from a friend and that week she learned that the Maximoff twins were your best friends. Who else would be a better wingman than Pietro Maximoff himself? Maybe anyone, but in your case he seemed to be the right fit.
You smiled at him when he greeted you, hugging him tightly and pecking his cheek. Natasha fixed her clothes quickly and put on her best flirty smile, the one that made the girls go weak.
Usually, they would find their way to Natasha. The redhead didn’t chase, didn’t beg and most certainly didn’t put that much effort. She was charming, she was attractive and rumour had it: she was packing.
Anyone wanted to learn the truth and Natasha was always happy to prove the rumours right.
But with you, the one girl that barely paid attention to her and made her friends mock her, she had to work for it. Hopefully, not so much.
“Baby, have you met Natasha?” Pietro smiled, ignoring his twin’s glare because Wanda also knew what Natasha wanted. And the only reason she didn’t tell you was because the brunette really wanted you to go to that party.
“I have. She’s in my Spanish class” you smiled politely at Natasha and she grinned “Good to see you, Ms Romanoff”
“Please, call me Natasha” you chuckled, rolling your eyes and looked at Wanda as if Natasha already run out of time “May I buy you a drink?”
You looked at her, tilting your head to the side with an amused smile this time. But Natasha remained unbothered, counting down the seconds to erase that damn smile.
“I thought the booze was free” you teased and Wanda snorted, clearing her throat when Natasha glared at her “Steve!”
You called the man when he was walking by and Natasha shook her head when his eyes landed on her. But he ignored her anyway.
“Yes, cutie? Do you need anything?” Steve asked softly, his voice dripping with adoration that even Natasha sensed his fucking crush and she wondered if you knew.
“Isn’t the booze free? You didn’t say anything about paying” you feigned concern and Natasha’s hands turned into fists but she kept her smile.
Steve furrowed his brows in confusion “It is, what do you mean?”
“Nothing, sweet boy” you pecked his cheek and he blushed “That would be all, thank you” Steve hummed and was already deciding to stay until Bucky called him over. He excused himself and you looked back at the redhead “I guess you don’t have to buy me that drink” you smirked.
“Well, maybe my wording was poor” Natasha said softly, even when on the inside she was fighting not to put you back in place “But let me get you a new drink” she leaned and grinned “Seems like you already ran out. Don’t want you to dehydrate, do we?”
You snorted “Then alcohol wouldn’t work for that, would it? Wands why don’t…”
“Are you afraid of one drink with me? I heard you were fearless, not a coward” Natasha cut you off before you could walk away with Wanda.
The brunette’s jaw dropped, Pietro whistled but her focus was on you and the way you clenched your jaw because Natasha just called you coward. And if someone had something to prove more than Natasha in that room, that would definitely be you.
You had a reason. Your mother wasn’t the loving kind, her love language came in the form of belittling every aspect of yourself wrapped in a compliment that told you, you could do better.
You were the first born. An overachiever that seek constantly her mother’s approval but at the same time hated that you wanted it. A pleaser disguised as a stubborn brat, because no one should be able to see your weaknesses. Not your mother. Not your friends. And definitely, not Natasha Romanoff.
“Afraid of what exactly?” you squinted and Natasha smiled triumphantly, noticing the way your body tensed up and you took a step closer trying to intimidate her.
“Of actually liking me? I know what the rumours say” the redhead shrugged and sighed “Don’t judge a book by its cover or the bad reviews left online”
“The book isn’t exactly closed, is it?” you smirked and Natasha now clenched her jaw “But I will tell you what. One drink, five minutes. That’s all I can give you because I’m definitely not spending my night humouring your game”
Natasha forced a satisfied smile. She could work in five minutes, she only had to find the right words to make you fall or stall enough to keep you around.
“Sure, princess. Shall we?” she offered you her arm and you scoffed, whispering something to Wanda before you started walking away from her.
Before she could follow you, Wanda stopped her and shook her head disapprovingly.
“You are playing with fire, Tasha. She’s out of your league”
“That’s what I keep hearing” Natasha shrugged and smiled “but no one is unreachable. And I always get what I want”
Wanda chuckled “Suit yourself, then”
(—)
It was like dancing.
A very bad dance, you had to add. Because Natasha started subtly, letting you know she wasn’t a fan of small talk. Not when after five minutes, she already would be making out with her target.
But watching her squirm as she tried to keep you around more than five minutes was entertaining. So you humour her for a little until Natasha’s attention started drifting away, because she couldn’t help herself and she ended up flirting with girls that walked by.
So by the fifth girl, you lost interest. As entertaining as it was watching her try to get into your pants even when you knew the answer, it wasn’t enough reason to endure that type of humiliation.
You sighed and refilled your cup. She wouldn’t even notice if you left, she was living up to the rumours and a small part of you almost wished they weren’t true because for the most part of your conversation, Natasha sounded like a nice smart person.
At least if you took away every flirt attempt.
You walked away and Natasha did notice, excusing herself to the girl that approached her and ran after you.
The redhead also started seeing the appealing of you and why all her friends befriended you. That didn’t make her want to back off but she understood.
“Hey, wait” Natasha said grabbing your arm gently and you sighed “I thought we were having a good time”
You turned around and sighed again, as Natasha pulled you closer and your hand landed on her chest to stop her. You would’ve loved toying with her, you were just doing that, but you had your own limits. Humiliation was never and would never be your cup of tea. Not out of the bedroom, at least.
You dragged her out of the house, the music was too loud to let you think. However, Natasha thought it was her lucky day specially when you hid behind a big tree away from curious eyes.
You looked at her and rolled your eyes when you saw her triumphant grin. She grunted when you pushed her back to the tree and smacked her hands when she tried to grab your hips.
“None of that” you warned and she sighed “Let’s be real for a moment, yes?” Natasha hummed with annoyance and you sighed “You seem very smart, I will give you that. Smart enough to know that flirting in front of the girl you want to fuck isn’t the right move” her lips parted, an excuse already in the tip of her tongue but you cut her off “Smart enough to also know that I’m not stupid, so save it. I’ll save us both some time and tell you right now the answer is no”
“Oh, princess, but I was just warming up. You haven’t…” Natasha started using her sultry tone, the one that always worked.
Well, apparently not always.
“I don’t need to know all your game. I’m not interested and I would rather die before going to bed with you” you said firmly and she huffed.
“Who said I wanted to fuck you, hm? You are so full of yourself” she sounded so confident, but you struck a nerve. One that hurt “I was just being nice”
“Perfect, then stop looking at me like you have something to prove” you shrugged triumphantly when her eyes darkened and let her go, starting to walk away.
“Prove what?” you turned around and shrugged “I don’t owe you anything”
“I didn’t say you did. But now you are acting like a child that was denied of her candy” you replied, smirking as her frown deepened. A smirk that was replaced with a gasp when she was now the one to push you onto the tree “Feisty, I see” you chuckled and tapped her shoulder “Now, we are done. I gave you more than five minutes”
But her hands didn’t move, her grip only got tighter. Green eyes searching for something in your unreadable demeanour. Natasha wasn’t ready to give up. She wasn’t the mouse, she was the fucking lion.
“You talk big for someone that also seems to be trying to prove something” she finally said, wearing a smirk when your lips parted with surprise “I don’t know what it is exactly, but I think I have an idea”
“Oh yeah? Enlighten me, please” you sounded defensive, but her body was too close and her cologne was intoxicating. You weren’t in total control of yourself.
“I think you love that everyone thinks you are this goddess walking down on earth” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as your hands pressed against her shoulders when she tried to lean closer “You love all the attention and in order to keep it, you have to maintain your unreachable status” you turned your face, trying to ignore her triumphant smirk “Let me guess, mommy and daddy weren’t around enough so now you want everyone’s attention?”
“Nice profiling, Romanoff. But unlike you, I don’t need people around me to fill voids” you barked back and Natasha’s face tensed “They come to me because I’m attractive, smart and a really good friend. They come to you because you are easy, forgettable and you think more with your dick than your brain”
Her fingers twitched over your hips. Nostrils flaring as her jaw tightened because she punched low but you went lower. In a game of arrogance and pride, you were her real competition.
“You don’t know what you are talking about” she gritted her teeth and you tilted your head to the side.
“I think I do” you looked down, noticing the bulge on her pants and chuckled “Even now you are thinking with it. You are incapable of having a real relationship, Natasha” you got closer, noses brushing and her body trembled with anger “Or maybe you are, but no one is stupid enough to stick around and find out. Everyone leaves”
“I can’t believe I thought of giving you a chance” she growled and you chuckled “You are not as attractive as you think you are”
“You? Give me a chance? You were begging for my attention” you leaned back with a smirk when her grip loosened.
“I just lost my time” she murmured.
You weren’t worth it, Natasha kept repeating herself.
You were an entitled brat that thought everyone was beneath her. A bitch that didn’t have a heart. Maybe people left around her, but you were incapable of being loved. She took it back, she didn’t see the appealing of you.
So she started to walk away and you laughed. Natasha decided to ignore you until you talked again.
“And I was the coward”
That made her snap back at you. Now she didn’t grab you by the hips; her hand landed directly on your throat and instead of feeling scared, that turned you on.
You could blame it all you wanted on the alcohol, but the mess between your legs was Natasha’s fault. Her flirty and charming self was never going to do it. Pissed off Natasha would, someone that looked powerful enough to shut you up.
But you weren’t going to admit it now.
“Look, princess. I was being nice, I offered you the attention you seek so much” her tone got lower and you almost clenched your legs together “but you and your insufferable smile can go and fuck yourselves”
You snorted “My fingers would work just fine, better than your dick that’s for sure”
“Now you are reaching” Natasha mocked and her grip tightened, you held back a moan “You aren’t that hot”
“And you aren’t that charming”
“You probably are bad in bed and that’s why no one gets to fuck you”
“I bet your dick isn’t as big as they say”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“No”
“I hate you”
“Good. I hate you too”
And with that, Natasha kissed you and you couldn’t stop the moan that was ripped out of your throat. The redhead couldn’t even find in herself to mock you, to tease you about it because she was drunk on your kiss.
Your lips were soft, your tongue wasn’t fighting for dominance you were giving to her, and when her hands landed on your ass, you jumped to let her carry you. You wrapped your legs around her hips and you both moaned when her hard on pressed against your clothed cunt.
Your fingers tangled with her hair as she squeezed your ass. Lips moving desperately, rough against each other and now you weren’t sure who was moaning. But when her fingers landed on the button of your short, you broke the kiss.
Natasha was panting, your makeup smudge around her lips but she didn’t wait for you to speak as she started kissing your neck.
“Natasha, wait” you panted and she hummed “I’m not fucking…”
“Your moans were telling me otherwise” she licked your neck and you whimpered “And that too”
“I’m not fucking here, let’s go to my car”
She pulled back and you showed her your keys. Natasha snatched them from your hands and put you down, barely waiting for you.
Both ran across the front yard. You were praying to any god out there that no one saw you and Natasha was just trying to get to your car before you changed your mind.
Luckily for both, you parked almost at the end of the street, far away from the party. You wouldn’t make it to your apartment or Natasha’s, or any room for that matter.
You both climbed on the backseat, making out a little more. Now you were fighting for the power; back at the tree Natasha took you by surprise and even when you loved someone overpowering you, you weren’t ready to give it to the redhead.
But she found a way. Natasha always did. Her hands landed on your hips and they helped you start grinding against her. You moaned and she took that to control the kiss. She unbuttoned your short and smirked when her fingers coated with your slick.
“So wet for someone that claims to hate me” she mocked and you pulled back.
“So hard for someone that claims I’m not that hot” you retorted and before she could speak, you kissed her again.
It was the steamiest and hottest kiss either of you had ever had. Natasha pushed two fingers inside you as her thumb pressed your clit and you bit her lower lip as your fingers tugged her hair.
Natasha was torturing you, pumping her fingers painfully slow. You whimpered and she smirked, breaking the kiss to watch you glare at her.
“A little desperate, are we?” she mocked and one of your hands clasped against her mouth as Natasha glared at you.
“Shut up, seriously” you grunted.
You started riding her fingers and Natasha could’ve just pulled out if only the sight of you getting off with her hand wasn’t so hot.
The redhead rubbed circles on your clit and you tossed your head back as your moans filled the car. Your grip loosened around her mouth as you felt your orgasm building up. Natasha captured your lips once again and her fingers worked faster between your legs.
Your teeth sank again in her lower lips, harsher this time, bruising her enough to taste her blood on your tongue as you came and Natasha whimpered, feeling her dick twitch in her boxers.
You were panting as she slowed down her movements, licking her lip clean and both grunted when she pulled out her fingers.
Green eyes fully blown out, probably mirroring yours, as she watched you hungrily. Natasha licked her fingers clean and you bit your lip trying to pretend she didn’t look as hot as she did. Just like Natasha held back a praise about your taste, you didn’t deserve to hear you were the best she had ever tasted.
“Well, that was something” Natasha murmured and you hummed, climbing down her lap and she furrowed her brows “Excuse me? I have a problem in here” she grunted, signalling her lap and you rolled your eyes.
“I’m not a man, Natasha” your hands were already moving, unbuttoning her pants and she helped you to tug them down along with her boxers. You whimpered.
“I guess the rumours were true” she grinned cockily and you looked at her, annoyed.
“You know what? Maybe I should leave you like that” you gritted your teeth and Natasha whined “That’s what I thought. Now, before you even think about telling everyone this ever happened, keep in mind my favourite uncle was a marine” you warned her and she rolled her eyes “I’m deadly serious, Romanoff. And he doesn’t have kids, I’m his favourite. He will kill you”
“You talk to much, it’s a turn off” she sighed and you punched her chest “And you are too strong for such a tiny body, the hell you do?”
“That’s it. Leave the car” you pointed and Natasha groaned “No? Then shut up. I like you better that way”
Natasha had her come back right on the tip of her tongue, but you decided that you really had enough. Your lips wrapped around the tip and Natasha grunted, any thought left her mind at the sight of you.
Your hand wrapped around the base as you bobbed your head. Natasha wasn’t insanely big but she was above average, you gave her that. And you noticed as much when her tip reached the back of your throat and you barely touched your own hand with your lips.
Natasha bucked her hips up, her hand holding your hair in a ponytail as she guided you. She was conflicted, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as your throat relaxed but she wanted to watch you. College’s golden girl being a slut for her? Natasha should’ve been recording.
“I was wrong, you know?” she whimpered as you moved faster, sucking her harder and feeling your saliva dripping down her shaft mixed with pre-cum “You’ve been extremely selfish by keeping that pretty mouth all to yourself”
Your lips popped, a string of saliva being left as you swallowed and jerked her off and you looked at her with amusement.
“Would you look at that? Praising me already? You truly know how to flatter a woman” you mocked her and she rolled her eyes.
“You know what? I also like you better when you aren’t talking”
Natasha guided you back down and you grunted, making her roll back her eyes as she moaned. You continued bobbing your head with purpose, shattering Natasha’s pride of lasting long because you were doing an amazing work.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum” she whimpered, it was a warning so you could move away but you didn’t. Natasha’s moans got louder, her grip tightened on your hair “Fuck, princess, seriously I’m about to…”
Natasha spilled in your mouth and you took every drop like a champ. The redhead was panting by the time you straightened up and she grunted when she watched you swallow and clean your mouth with the back of your hand.
“I guess the rumours are not entirely true” you smirked “I heard you last longer”
“I do, I just waited too long” she defended and you chuckled as her cheeks flushed.
“Sure you did” you patted her thigh.
Natasha groaned, tossing her head back as you kept chuckling. You sounded so cute when you laughed. So hot when you were moaning. And for a second, your little fight was long forgotten.
“Woah, what are you doing?” Natasha asked when you started buttoning your shorts and her hand stopped your movements as you looked at her confused “We are not done”
“What do you mean we are not done?” you signalled her lap and she rolled her eyes, taking off her leather jacket “No, don’t undress. We are done”
“It’s hot in here and I just need a minute” she retorted and even if you had something to object, it would’ve been long forgotten because her biceps hypnotised you “Like what you see?”
That was enough to break the spell. You just huffed and watched her search for a condom in her jacket pockets. Smiling triumphantly when she finally found it and for a second, you thought Natasha looked cute.
No, that wasn’t happening. That was ‘I hate you’ sex and the redhead was incapable of dating. You looked outside the window trying to settle your thoughts until Natasha moaned again.
And you should’ve stopped her, kicked her out of there and told her to find someone else to finish her business. Instead, when she grinned with the condom already in place and hard again, you just shrugged and took off your shorts.
“This will be the only time” you warned her and she hummed.
“Fine by me. And I won’t kiss and tell” she promised as you hovered her lap, both moaning as you took her in “So tight, fuck”
“Let’s go back to not talking”
And you kissed her again. Because if Natasha kept up with her dirty talk, you would be the one that wouldn’t last long enough.
Natasha didn’t deserve that type of satisfaction.
(—)
The redhead kept her promise.
She didn’t tell anyone. In fact, the rumour spread by the people who saw you both at the tree and she was merciful enough to actually shut that down.
Natasha gave them a parcial truth, instead. That you and her were fighting, not fucking there. And she chose her words carefully before you actually decided to call your uncle. She was too hot to die that young, anyway.
The promise that wasn’t kept was the most important one. None of you were able to stop, because every time you were in the same place one of you would start a fight for nothing. Just to end up fucking in the first place you both found.
Both were true believers that the only way to stop was through. As if you could fuck each other out of your systems and god, you were really trying.
Around campus people thought you hated each other. You did, you told yourself that every time you fixed your clothes and refused to stay for aftercare.
Natasha tried the night of the party and you kicked her out of the car. She stopped trying by the third time because she didn’t owe you anything and if you didn’t want her to be gentle then it was on you not her.
You were insufferable and honestly, Natasha was doing you a favour. She could get any girl she wanted but you were the one with anger issues, not her.
Like that same day. You were running on the treadmill. Natasha was on the box ring sparring with her coach and when she had a break, she noticed your trainer was flirting with you again.
The redhead was trying to be nice when she approached. A helping hand to get you out of that situation since it was the first time she saw the man touching you and your shoulders were tense.
So she walked up to you, with her usual insufferable grin and you missed a step when her hand landed on your lower back. If it wasn’t for Natasha, you would’ve fallen. But if she wasn’t for her either, you wouldn’t have missed a step.
“What do you want?” you panted as you looked at her after you took your headphones off.
Both of you were sweaty, your chest was raising and falling from the running but you managed to glare at her. Natasha was used to you throwing daggers at her so she didn’t care.
“Babe, don’t be like that. I was wondering if you were ready to take that shower now?” she smiled softly and you looked at her with nothing with confusion.
“Babe? What are-“
“You okay in there, gorgeous?” your trainer interrupted and you growled under your breath.
Most of the time, you didn’t care when someone flirted with you. Natasha had a point, you loved attention. But that day, Mark – your trainer – was being too obvious and it was annoying. He had asked you out more than once and you said no too many times to remain polite.
“Yes, I’m fine, Mark” you sounded harsher to make a point and he looked at Natasha. You looked at your phone as if you just got a text and sighed “I will cut off short our session today, I have to go to the academy. See you”
You walked away before Mark could reply or try to stop you or worse, try again to ask you out. You grabbed your things and Natasha ran after you as you walked towards the locker room.
“Academy? What academy?”
Natasha didn’t know a lot about you. Her friends refused to tell her since they bought the rumour of you both fighting and were true believers that it was her fault. Wanda wasn’t an option because she threatened her to cut off her dick if she kept asking and she was holding a knife when she did that.
You remained an enigma. Natasha didn’t even know where you lived. The most you showed her was your car and you just laughed when she asked if you lived there. There wasn’t a dorm to visit or an apartment. But now there was an academy?
“Natasha, don’t you have a session to finish?” you asked when she leaned next to your locker and she hummed.
“Phil can wait, I pay him anyway” she shrugged and smiled “So, academy?”
“You are not my girlfriend and that reminds me” you turned to look at her and you pressed your index finger against her chest “Don’t ever call me babe again”
“He was touching you and-“
“Never, Romanoff. I was handling Mark just fine” you pushed her off when she tried to lean and grabbed your things to take a shower “Now, if you excuse me…”
Natasha grabbed you and pushed you against the locker room. But you were already done with Marks attempts, you didn’t need someone else thinking with their dick.
“Not even a thank you for saving you?” she grinned and you rolled your eyes.
“I can save myself” you tried to push her off but she pressed her body even more “Natasha, we are not fucking”
“Fine, just tell me what academy? Where are you going?” her green eyes looked almost hazel up close, that much you noticed as she tried to read your face.
“Why would I tell you? I’m done with this game” you groaned again when she pressed harder “Natasha”
“I won’t ask anything again, just tell me this” she pleaded and she wasn’t so sure why she needed to know more.
“I rather fuck” you sighed and she rolled her eyes.
“I don’t want to” she insisted and your hand snaked between her legs “It won’t work. Is it so hard to believe that maybe I just want to be your friend?”
“I don’t fuck my friends, Natasha” you gave up and your hands landed on her shoulders when she didn’t let go “Fine. Just this. I am building a career as a professional dancer”
Natasha’s jaw dropped and you expected her to have some perverted comment or a teasing one. But it never came because Natasha once again was checking you out.
The redhead knew that your body couldn’t be just about running and lifting weight. But with that information, even your flexibility made sense. So she whimpered and her lips brushed your neck.
“I dance too” she murmured and you snorted “I’m serious”
“Sure you are” you pushed her off and patted her shoulder “Now, I want to take a shower”
You started walking away and Natasha watched you leave, not before stopping you one last time.
“Are you really going there?”
But you just chuckled. Leaving her without an answer and a whole list of questions because honestly, who were you?
(—)
It was Saturday when it happened.
Natasha was tired, barely awake as she dragged her feet through the floor of her apartment when the doorman called to announce that she had visitors.
And when the elevator opened at her penthouse, the redhead wasn’t so sure if she was happy or annoyed when her parents walked out. She only smiled when Yelena, her sister, pushed them so she could greet her.
Melina and Alexei Romanoff were big time lawyers that spent most of their time in Los Angeles. It was only natural that Natasha wanted to fly across the country to be away from them.
They weren’t bad parents but they weren’t good either. Too busy building their wealth to actually be parents. Natasha and Yelena grew up surrounded by nannies and chauffeurs. Melina was only involved when it came to their studies because no daughter of hers would grow up being useless.
Still, Natasha loved her parents as much as any lonely child could. She seek their approval, the perfection stamp even when she chose another career path. Alexei helped her out to convince Melina on that matter and Natasha promised she would get a law degree as soon as she finished her dream career.
“It’s almost noon, Natalia” her mother scolded, noticing the messy state of her daughter and Natasha held back a groan “Go change, we need to talk”
“Good to see you too, mom” Natasha forced a smile and pecked her mother’s cheek and hugged her father “I’m sure we can talk with my pyjamas on?”
Melina growled but Alexei patted her shoulder and she sighed.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love Natasha, she did with all her heart. But Melina worked hard to give her daughters everything they had and she wouldn’t let them bring all down by being lazy. No, her daughters were born to be better than her and they just needed a little push even if they didn’t see it like that.
“I guess that’s true” Alexei sighed and Natasha nodded “Do you have tea, sweetie? Your mother cut off our coffee ingestion”
“Oh yes, she did. Save me” Yelena whined, following Natasha to her kitchen as the redhead chuckled “I missed you, Nat”
“Missed you too, troublemaker. Ready to join me in the summer?” Natasha grinned as she took out everything for those teas and she made coffee for herself.
And maybe if she paid attention to Yelena, she would’ve noticed the nervous shift in her body when she said that. Her sister tried to stop her parents, she understood why Natasha travelled so far away and masked it with study reasons.
But nothing was going to stop Melina Romanoff when she already made up her mind.
“About that…”
“Yelena, go help your father with the suitcases. The doorman is here” Melina appeared in the kitchen and Yelena huffed “And drop the attitude, you will wrinkle before you know it”
Yelena rolled her eyes when she walked out but Melina was no longer paying attention to her. Her eyes were set on Natasha as the redhead slid her teabags box for her to pick.
“I’m not sure what’s your pick of the month” Natasha offered softly and Melina hummed “Do you guys want anything to eat?”
“Maybe later, my love” Melina said softly and her words never failed to make Natasha’s heart flutter because it was the closest to an ‘I love you’ she would ever get from her mother “Are you eating? You look thinner”
“I’m eating just fine. You know I do boxing” Natasha reminded her mother and Melina hummed again “Why didn’t you call? I didn’t know you guys were coming”
“It was kind of a rushed decision” Melina said as Natasha took out some mugs “We will tell you all about it in a minute”
Natasha should’ve seen the signs. Yelena was nervous, Alexei was being sweeter than usual and Melina was dancing around the subject like it pained her to talk about it when it was her idea. But the redhead was slowly waking up, half of her body still begging her to go back to bed.
Melina helped Natasha to bring the cups to the living room. Her mother sat next to Alexei and Natasha sat next Yelena across from them after putting the cups down on the coffee table.
Natasha smiled at Yelena, glancing at her sister’s cup where she sneaked some coffee but the blonde barely smiled back. That’s when Natasha finally sensed that the visit wasn’t casual.
No, it was something worse.
“How’s school going, Natalia?” Alexei asked casually, his arm wrapped around Melina’s waist and his ankle resting over his knee.
Natasha frowned but took a sip of her coffee before replying. The tension in the air suddenly heavy, a silent warning of the storm that was coming.
“Everything good. 3.8 GPA and I’m taking that Spanish class as you wanted, mother” Natasha replied softly and glanced at Yelena “How are you doing, troublemaker?”
Yelena pursed her lips and looked outside the floor to ceiling windows. She was doing okay, that wasn’t the issue. But her parents were making this harder and she was about to come clean because Yelena tried to warn Natasha and Melina told her she could kiss Yale goodbye if she did it.
“3.8? You are better than that, Natalia” Melina added and Natasha looked back “But glad to hear that for once you listened to my advice”
Natasha hummed and leaned back. There was no point in fighting her mother on the subject. Natasha worked her ass off for her grades but perfection was the only way in Melina’s eyes. And the redhead could’ve lied but she knew better; her mother was a lawyer, she smelled lies from miles away.
“I’ll get better, mom” she offered weakly and Melina smiled proudly.
“That’s my girl” she nodded and crossed her legs, leaning back onto her husband’s chest as if they were always the perfect family.
In paper, they were the perfect family. Natasha’s parents were well known and Yelena and her had names to live up to. Instead of running around when they were kids, they learned every aspect of the fancy lives their parents gave them.
They never got toys for Christmas, they got books. Their birthdays were spent in luxury vacations to practice the language they were learning. They did ballet, had etiquette lessons, started reading the newspaper at seven, could hold any type of conversation with any grown up by ten and by sixteen both had worked around the firm to learn the family business.
They were machines. Or empty canvases until Melina turned them into the perfect girls. Nothing in the world would stop them from getting far. But she managed to act surprise when Natasha wanted to go to New York, where she finally could be a little more free.
“Why are you guys here? Not that I mind the visit, but rushed isn’t your type of thing, mom” she added before Melina could call her mean or ungrateful.
But that never came. Melina dropped the bomb like it was a simply chat. Like she wasn’t there to crash Natasha’s hopes and dreams.
“Los Angeles isn’t working for us anymore” her mother started and Natasha tilted her head to the side “The business is doing fine but we are bringing a leg of the firm here”
Natasha choked on her coffee. Yelena patted her back as her sister started coughing and her parents remained unbothered. They foresaw Natasha’s surprise.
“What? Why?” Natasha asked as she cleaned her tank top and Melina sighed.
“It’s good for the business, sweetie” Alexei rushed before Melina had to repeat herself because she hated doing that.
“Okay, sounds good. I guess?” Natasha said confused and furrowed her brows “You could’ve told me that on the phone, though”
“Perhaps. But we are already moving here, as in this weekend” Melina said carefully and Natasha squinted, studying her mother’s features but Melina would always be a mystery to her.
“You are moving this weekend” Natasha repeated and there was still something wrong “Here is exactly where, may I ask?”
Yelena tensed again next to her, her hand gripping Natasha’s tank top as a warning or as if it could ground her. Probably both.
Alexei looked away, clearing his throat uncomfortably and Melina pursed her lips trying to be careful with her wording.
“Here. At this penthouse” she stated and Natasha looked at her like her mother grew another head.
“Wait what? What about Lena? I only have two bedrooms and…” the words died down in her mouth, the dots connecting in her mind as her body started buzzing with anger “No, that’s not fair. I live here! This is my home”
Natasha stood up and only Yelena flinched at her tone. Her parents also foresaw the anger. It was their job being three steps ahead.
“Sit down, Natalia” her mother said calmly and Natasha huffed but complied “Good. May I remind you who pays your rent?”
“I will call grandmother” Natasha grunted, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You are not six, Natalia. Your grandmother is busy in Tokyo anyway” Melina sighed as her daughter glared at her “It’s just a small adjustment while we look for a more suitable space for you”
“Suitable space?” Natasha snorted “You could’ve done that before coming here and find your own place. Not steal mine”
“We tried, Natalia. But your building is closer to the one we bought and it’s our best option” Alexei explained softly.
He wasn’t the most loving father, but he adored his daughters in his own messed up way. However, Alexei always backed up Melina. Even if he didn’t agree, he still supported his wife. It didn’t matter if those choices hurt his daughters.
“And what? I will be homeless now?” Natasha scoffed, fists closing over her thighs and tears pricking in her eyes. But she wasn’t about to cry in front of her parents, Melina would call it a sad attempt to manipulate them anyway.
“Of course not, Natalia. We are not monsters” Melina defended herself “You have two options: live at the dorms until we find you your own place or go to live with one of our partner’s daughter. She studies at the same college”
Alexei showed her a keycard and placed it over the coffee table. It was taking everything in Natasha not to start screaming. That wasn’t a rushed decision, they planned this for months and decided to ambush her.
“You expect me to live with strangers?” Natasha growled, glaring at her parents as if that would make them change their minds “Those are my two options, really?”
“Dorms or an apartment close to college, not as big as this one but fancy enough to keep up with your lifestyle. Your choice” Melina offered.
And Natasha wanted to yell at her mother. This wasn’t about money, she could be living in a shitty apartment in the shittiest neighbourhood as long as it was hers.
Her own space, her own mess, she even refused to accept the housemaid because she enjoyed cleaning by herself, she enjoyed cooking and not washing dishes until she felt like it. There was no curfew, no one waiting at home, she could do as much noise as she wanted because it was her solitude and she loved it.
But for Melina Romanoff, that was simply a transaction. Something else she could fix with money instead of being an actual mother and treat her daughter like a human being.
“Do I even know this daughter?” she said defeated. Sharing an apartment sounded better than sharing a room.
“I don’t think so, no. Your father will go with you after lunch” Melina said with a triumphant smile “Now, go and shower. We are leaving in twenty, we all are hungry”
(—)
Your morning was also eventful.
Unlike Natasha, you were up at eight. Took your morning run, had breakfast and cleaned a little. Until the knock at your place came, that made you furrowed your brows since you weren’t expecting anyone.
When you opened, your smile widened at the sight of your father holding a bouquet of flowers. He was wearing his usual suit, had small bags under his eyes but he was wearing a bright smile.
Your father was the opposite of your mother. But that didn’t make him father of the year. It took you both years of therapy to rebuild your relationship.
When you were a kid, your father was a present-but-absent parent. He spent most of your childhood travelling and working, climbing up in his work field to secure yours and your brother’s future.
By the time he realised you were all grown up, he had missed a lot of things. Bonding with you or your brother was a huge challenge, specially after the divorce. The only reason you tried to bond with him was that you decided to stay with him; anything would be better than keep living under the same roof as your mother.
For years, everything your father did for you was out of nothing but guilt. His love language came in form of gifts and money, as if that could heal your wounds. And even after therapy, after hearing you say that wasn’t what you needed but him, he still managed to keep spoiling you.
Your mother wanted you to study a real career. You wanted to pursue your dancing career. Your father offered to pay for both to keep the peace between you.
Your mother thought living at the dorm was the better option for your social skills. You wanted your own space. And your father offered to pay for your rent and expenses.
Anything you wanted, he would give it to you. Because even after you accepted his apologies, after loving him now without expectations and trying to keep up with your grades as to thank him for his hard work, your father would always feel guilty for not being there when you needed him the most.
“Daddy!” you said cheerfully and hugged him tightly. He chuckled and patted your shoulder “Peonies? You remembered?”
“Of course I did” you squinted your eyes and he rolled his eyes playfully “Fine, maybe your brother helped me out a little”
“Yeah, that sounds more like it. Come in”
You stepped aside, letting him look around as you look for a vase for your flowers. He was there when you picked the apartment, it wasn’t that fancy but it was big enough for you and he helped you decorate however you wanted.
Throughout the time you’ve been there, it kept transforming in something more warm, more like you. Plants were everywhere, books here and there, some pictures of you with your brother, with your father and, of course, with your friends.
Your favourite blanket was folded over one of the sofas, the living room TV hanging on the wall and under it all the gaming consoles your brother persuaded you to buy so he could visit more. The small coffee table in the center had some books around and your laptop, meaning you were planning on study soon.
“Do you want some coffee? Juice? Tea? A beer?” you offered and your father chuckled, taking off his coat and hanging it in the closet next to the door.
“Water is fine, bug” he said softly and sat on the sofa as you went to the kitchen and went back with a cup coaster and his water “Thank you, sweetheart. How you been?”
You sat on the sofa next to the one he was, curling up and sighing. You were tired, ready for a vacation but you also were happy.
“Everything is good. Just busy, you know” you shrugged and he held your hand, squeezing it gently “Sent you my grades the other day, did you have time to check them out?”
“I did, you are doing amazing. I’m so proud of you” he smiled and leaned back “Your brother wants to go to Italy for his birthday, do you think you will be able to join us?”
You bit your lip. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but even when you weren’t in college, the dance academy kept you in a tight schedule.
“I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do” you said softly and he hummed “I still have like four months for that, right?”
“Three and a half, your bother won’t let me forget” you both chuckled. Your mother loved calling you a spoiled brat as if your brother wasn’t right there “Anyway, sweetheart, we need to talk”
You frowned. Noticing the tension in his shoulders and how he kept drinking his water as if his mouth was dry. He was making an effort to look you in the eyes but he was nervous.
“Did something happen? Is it grandma? Grandpa?” you asked carefully and your father shook his head.
“No, no. Your grandparents are okay, they are visiting one of your aunts upstate” he said softly and you squeezed his hand gently, smiling reassuringly so he could tell you what’s wrong without fearing that you would rip his head off “I want to start by apologising for not talking to you sooner, I got the call like two days ago” he explained and you hummed.
“What call? You are scaring me” you chuckled nervously, your body already tensing.
“You know I’m finally partner of the firm” he said softly and you hummed “Well, one of the owners asked me for a favour and I said yes”
“And that favour is…” you said calmly, watching how he let go of your hand to play with his fingers nervously. He gulped the rest of his water and sighed.
“They are opening a leg of the firm here in New York, seems like one of their daughters needs a place to live while they find a new place for her” he explained, almost rushed but you got every damn word.
“And he asked you if she could live with me” you said softly, trying to decide if you were mad or not.
Honestly, you didn’t have the right to be mad because your father paid for everything and a small favour wouldn’t hurt. You knew that. But you couldn’t help yourself when you felt a little ambushed with the decision.
“I know I’m asking too much but…”
“It’s okay” you cut him off and he looked at you. You offered him a small smile “When is she moving in?”
“Probably, today. Maybe tomorrow” he said nervously and you sighed “But she’s your age, she studies at your college and I was promised she was very clean and knew to behave. He even offered to pay for a housemaid so none of you had to fight over chores”
“That sounds tempting” you teased and your father relaxed “Well, I guess it was good that I tidied up today, right?” you hugged him and patted his back “Anything for my favourite old man” you smirked and he chuckled “Anyway, who is this partner of yours? What’s the girls name”
“I’ve told you about Alexei, right?” you hummed and your father inhaled sharply “I don’t think you know his daughter, though. She studies mechanical engineering”
“Try me. I’m not the introvert my mother believes I am” you smiled and he rolled his eyes playfully “Really, maybe I met her during a party or something. Not that I go to a lot of parties”
“I’m sure you don’t” he teased with a knowing smile and it was your turn to roll your eyes “Well, her name is Natasha Romanoff”
And at that, you smile faded away. This was a fucked up joke the universe was playing on you. It couldn’t be.
(—)
Wanda arrived after you called her freaking out from your bathroom. You were barely making any sense but that was enough to make her leave her house without further explanation to Pietro.
And when you opened the door, your distraught demeanour only worsen her worry. You stepped aside and before she could ask, the brunette saw your father sitting on the sofa and watching TV.
“Wanda, this is my father” you said as calmed as you could “Daddy, I’m sure I’ve told you about the Maximoff twins? This is Wanda”
Wanda glanced at you confused but smiled at your father when he approached her and shook his hand.
“Of course, I’ve heard a lot about you” your father smiled softly “A pleasure meeting you, Wanda”
“Likewise, sir” she replied softly and you grabbed her hand.
“Daddy, we have to check something about a project but we will be out when the guests arrive” you rushed to say and your father hummed, going back to sit on the sofa.
You stopped at the kitchen, grabbing two beers and ignoring Wanda’s surprised look as you dragged her to your bedroom. You locked the door as Wanda sat on your bed and she watched you open one of the bottles after offering her one and she declined.
“Those are Pietro’s beers” she pointed out “And it’s barely past noon, what’s going on?”
“Pietro can refill his beers whenever he wants” you groaned and gulped the drink, grimacing at the taste “No, I take it back. This tastes cheap”
You finished the drink and Wanda looked at you in awe. You were very strict with your diet. You avoided beer as much as you could and tequila was your drink to go. But even then, your alcohol consumption was limited and if you were drinking beer on a Saturday by yourself, something big happened.
“Woah, what are you doing?” Wanda said as you opened the second bottle and gave another gulp as if the beer could save you from the inevitable “(Y/N), you are fucking scaring me”
You started pacing around your room, trying to find all the right words. Wanda wouldn’t like that you hid from her your little affair with Natasha and maybe the redhead was going to be your roommate as your karma for not telling your best friend.
“I have to tell you something” you started, sipping your beer again and Wanda hummed “You have to promise not to kill me right now because this is just context”
You kept pacing and Wanda kept following your movements as if that would tell her all she needed to know. But you were freaking out and that was everything she noticed.
“No killing, I promise” she said softly and you sighed, stopping in front of her and leaning against your vanity desk “Come on, spill”
“I’m sure you heard Natasha and I had a fight at Steve’s party” you started, scratching the label of the beer nervously as Wanda hummed “That part is true. Everything is true”
“What do you mean by everything?” Wanda tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. Your eyes were avoiding hers.
“I slept with Natasha that night. Not at the tree but in my car” you admitted softly and Wanda’s jaw dropped “And it kept happening after that, more times that I can admit”
Your cheeks flushed as you looked at the floor. Your best friend was speechless, her brain malfunctioning as the new information settled down. You looked at her, shyly and a little ashamed.
Wanda knew why you weren’t dating, she never judged and she supported your golden girl status. The brunette knew you also mocked from time to time every girl that fell into Natasha’s lap, which made the whole thing a big joke. You basically became the thing you judged the most.
So naturally, Wanda started laughing. She wasn’t trying to be mean about it, but the situation was hilarious. Everyone thought that Natasha didn’t have a chance, there was a bet around the situation. The most surprising part was that Natasha didn’t brag about it.
“You are joking” Wanda chuckled but your eyes were serious “Oh, you are for real. How?”
“We said mean things to each other and she kissed me” you shrugged and Wanda laughed louder “Stop it!”
“You are telling me that the trick was never about being gentle and charming but actually piss you off? Kinky” she smirked and your cheeks turned into a deeper shade of red “Fine, angry sex. I get it. What’s the excuse for the rest of the times?”
“The same. She starts with something, we fight and all of a sudden I have her deep- That’s not the point!” you defended when Wanda started laughing again and you groaned “But we are not doing that anymore, we can’t”
“I’m sure you told yourself that all the other times” Wanda teased and you glared at her “Tell me I’m wrong”
“No, but this time is different” you murmured, finishing your second beer at the thought and Wanda raised a brow “She is going to live here”
Wanda thought the shocking part already passed, she was wrong. Your words weren’t making any sense. You were really private about your life outside college, not all your friends were invited to your place only those you trusted the most. In fact, not everyone knew you had a second career or about your personal issues.
In everyone’s eyes, you were just a hot girl that charmed everyone that met her. Smart, attractive and hilarious. Extremely kind with those that needed help. A true golden girl.
But those that were close, saw the cracks in your perfect image. How you pushed yourself to your limit, how hard you work to maintain everything around you, your struggles around your body, what you ate or how you looked.
Wanda knew how damaged you were because of your mother, she had witnessed it with her own eyes. So, as much as you could be fucking Natasha, it didn’t make sense that you were welcoming into your home.
That was basically trespassing your privacy. Your carefully constructed bubble where you could just be yourself, without fearing people would judge you. Without the expectation of always being perfect.
“Why? Did you-“
“No. God, no” you rushed to say, burying your face in your hands and she approached you “Dad asked me for the favour and I can’t say no, he already does too much and-“ you cracked as Wanda wrapped her arms around you, letting you fall apart in between her arms “And now she’s on her way here”
“Does she know where you live?” you shook your head and Wanda hummed “And your father asked you this because…”
“He’s doing a favour to Natasha’s father” you sobbed and gripped Wanda’s tee “I feel like I’m going to be exposed in front of the most infuriating woman I have ever met”
“She’s not that bad” Wanda offered gently and you groaned “I know she isn’t girlfriend material but she’s actually a good friend”
You whined and Wanda let you process your feelings. Because you needed to believe that. Fucking you wasn’t as intimate as stepping into your space. That was a line you draw with every person you met until you trusted them enough.
But you didn’t trust Natasha like that. And she was going to step into your world anyway.
(—)
Lunch turned into a shopping spree that Natasha was hating.
The redhead barely had time to process everything, her only time alone was during her shower and after that she was cornered to force a smile like she liked the plan.
Yelena tried her best to cheer her sister up, but Natasha was barely looking at her and when she did, Yelena felt the betrayal in her gaze.
Natasha knew it wasn’t Yelena’s fault, but as the time passed she heard all about the high school she was going to finish her senior year in. Meaning her sister knew and she didn’t tell her but even then, her mother probably had something over her head.
But her feelings and her thoughts were all over the place. All she could hope was that her soon-to-be roommate wasn’t the type of person that stepped into her space.
Best case scenario, her roommate was hot and she would have a fuck buddy at home. Worst case scenario, Natasha would have to endure a psycho.
And her father refused to give her more details, telling her that everything would be okay and that she should focus on the furniture she needed for her room.
That only added to her anxiety and pissed her off.
Natasha only got the word housemaid and that her credit line would be extended, as if money was the solution to any problem.
By the time she arrived to her new home, Natasha was a nervous wreck. Her thoughts were everywhere and all she wanted was sleep for the next month until this nightmare ended.
It was like her parents were punishing her for no reason. Manipulating her to the point that she really thought she deserved the treatment when in reality, the redhead didn’t do anything wrong.
The building looked nice, it wasn’t that far from hers but wasn’t as luxurious. The lobby seemed nice, the hallway was well illuminated and the elevator worked perfectly.
The keycard that Alexei gave her was for the apartment, but she refused to use it until she met her new roommate. Her father reassured her that her motorbike had a designated spot. Like that was what worried Natasha the most.
Her father knocked on the door, wearing that charming smile he only used for big clients. The one that made anyone trust him blindly. But Natasha knew better.
The redhead shifted nervously but faked a smile when her father looked at her as a silent scold for squirming too much. Her parents made very clear Natasha and Yelena were also the face of the firm.
It was a family business after all.
The door opened and Natasha’s heart raced with anxiety. Her eyes met friendly ones, a tall man standing in front of her that offered her a warm smile.
“Moy drook (my friend)! It’s so good to see you” Alexei said cheerfully and hugged the man after shaking hands “I’m so glad you made it in time”
“You asked and I couldn’t say no” he shrugged with a friendly smile and Natasha wasn’t sure if it was real “You must be Natasha, you are taller than I expected”
Alexei looked at her, nudging his daughter when she failed to greet the man back. Natasha cleared her throat and offered him a polite smile.
“That’s me” she chuckled softly and shook his hand “It’s nice to meet you, sir”
Her friends would be mocking her if they saw her being so polite, so rigid. But when Natasha was around her parents, she had to pretend she wasn’t her carefree and silly self.
The man stepped aside and Alexei pushed her inside gently, making her feel like a child and not the young adult she already was. And she hated every second of it.
“Please, get comfortable. I’ll go and get my daughter”
Natasha looked around, already assessing the place that had nothing to do with hers. It looked warm, comfortable, safe. Unlike her penthouse that was decorated by her mother, a minimalist set that didn’t reflect her personality but the woman her parents expected her to be.
However, the new apartment looked like someone truly lived there. A cozy place to hang around on the rainy days. A real home. And that scared Natasha, because she wouldn’t know what to do with all of it.
Now her expectations weren’t on her roommate but herself. Would she be able to survive the new environment? Or her rigid self would manage to drag her roommate down with her?
But any bad thought left her mind when her eyes met Wanda’s. The brunette bit her lips nervously as Natasha gave her a confused look because Wanda lived with her twin, not by herself.
Wanda looked over her shoulder and Natasha’s breath hitched when she saw you. Her knees felt weak, her head was spinning and her heart skipped a beat.
This had to be a joke.
“Alexei, Natasha. This is my daughter, (Y/N)” your father said cheerfully.
Alexei chuckled and approached you, giving you a bear hug as if he was the most loving and friendly person in the world. But your eyes were fixed on Natasha and you noticed that she had no idea about this. At least you had time to process, but the redhead was blindsided.
“Natalia, come and greet her” Alexei said sweetly, a charade that Natasha knew too well.
Natasha walked like a robot. She thought that if she rushed, she would end up puking right there and then. Out of any girl she could share a home with, it had to be you.
She offered you her hand and you looked at her with confusion but shook it anyway. The Natasha that you knew wasn’t there, this was a version of her that actually scared you.
The redhead looked perfect. Her usual washed out jeans or sweatpants gone and replaced by black pants. She wasn’t wearing a hoodie but a white blouse. Her hair was braided and she was even wearing soft makeup because her mother told her she looked pale. Natasha was even wearing a necklace and some rings.
She was there but that wasn’t Natasha. That was the daughter of the Romanoff household. The perfectly curated image Melina created.
You even missed her teasing smile and the twinkle in her eyes. The powerful Natasha that you knew, looked so small in front of you and that wasn’t sitting right with you.
“We know each other, don’t we Natasha?” you said softly, not ready to let go of her hand and gave her a gentle squeeze.
The redhead cleared her throat, her mind trying to process everything with you standing there. You also didn’t look like yourself, at least not the version Natasha knew.
You looked softer, cuter and understanding. Usually, you would be staring at her with annoyance and Natasha would take that as the perfect opportunity to piss you off. But in that moment, you were looking at her like you understood what was happening and you weren’t judging. You weren’t scolding but welcoming her.
Two defeated souls that were bound to share a roof. Pretending in front of your parents that you hadn’t seen each other naked or listened the other moan and unravel. Or like you didn’t step on each other’s toes just for the fun of it.
You looked as small as Natasha did. And somehow, that comforted Natasha’s aching soul.
“We do, actually” Natasha whispered, breathless as she squeezed your hand back “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, (Y/N). I promise I will be out of your hair as soon as I can”
Maybe it was the way she said your name. Maybe it was her tone, robotic and empty. Or maybe it was the way her eyes clouded with pain. But you hugged Natasha, tightly and intimately.
The redhead gasped when your body collided against hers. Her body stiffened as her mind processed the hug. Finally, Natasha relaxed and hugged you back.
You both could fight all you wanted, but in that moment you were on the same boat. And until you were alone, you would support each other through this madness.
“Would you look at that? Seems I made the right call” Alexei chuckled and Natasha decided to ignore her father, pulling you closer as if you could shield her.
For a moment, you were the only thing keeping her grounded.
(—)
Alexei pushed for the mattress to arrive the same day. The rest of the things they bought would make it throughout the week.
Melina made sure to send Natasha some clothes and promised to help on Sunday to pack. As if they were in a hurry to get rid of her and honestly, it was better that way.
When the sun went down, Natasha was exhausted. She didn’t have the energy to keep fighting because everything crashed down on her like a poor built tower.
No warnings. Just actions.
So she actually was happy to have a moment away from her family. A second to hear her own thoughts and be herself because she hated the person she was when her parents were around.
Naturally, she was lying on her naked mattress. Lights dimmed and curtains closed as she stared at the ceiling. Her muscles relaxed as she steadied her breathing. The redhead waited for the tears that never came, she was too tired for that.
Your father, Wanda and you eased her up enough the rest of the evening. Wanda left at some point, your father and Alexei sat to talk about numbers and arrangements and you gave Natasha space in form of silence as you sat next to her in the dinning room.
It felt weird but at the same time comforting. You weren’t pushing and she wasn’t teasing. A silent agreement to just wait to talk. But when her father left and yours promised to stop by the next day to help with groceries, Natasha retrieved to her new room.
Before facing you, she needed to face herself. And you respected that.
But it was late and none of you had eaten anything. And after fighting with yourself, you finally knocked on her door. Natasha didn’t answer and you bit your lip as you stared at the doorknob.
You knocked three more times before you finally opened the door. Natasha was fully awake, still in her formal clothes and staring at the ceiling with lost eyes. You approached her carefully, afraid that the wrong movement would just push her further away.
“I was wondering if you would like to order takeout. I’m not in the mood of cooking and today is my cheat day” you said softly and Natasha inhaled sharply, making you squirmed.
“I’m not hungry” she replied flatly and you bit your lip.
“You can’t go to sleep with an empty stomach, Natasha” you said firmly and the redhead finally looked at you “Do you like sushi?”
Natasha stared at you for what felt like an eternity. She wasn’t sure if she liked that side of you or if she needed you to go back and hate her just so she could feel normal for once that day.
“Sushi sounds good” she murmured and went back to stare at the ceiling “Want my credit card?”
“Dinner is on me tonight” you said softly and knelt over the mattress “Do you mind if I order here? Or do you want me to leave you alone?”
Just like Natasha, you were feeling a little lost. Too many emotions and changes in one day. You weren’t sure how to feel or what to do first, your thoughts all over the place.
“I guess you can stay. I need to make sure you don’t try to poison me” Natasha teased, trying to regain the parts of herself that she always buried when her family was around.
You chuckled and laid next to, offering the redhead your phone so she could pick whatever she wanted.
“If I wanted to poison you, you wouldn’t see it coming” you teased back and Natasha chuckled, scrolling through the phone as she scanned the options “Add some edamame for me and baby squid, please” she looked at you with amusement and you shrugged “Don’t judge. Like I said, it’s my cheat day”
“I’m not judging” she whispered and handed you the phone back when she was done. Natasha snorted when you added a matcha milk tea “Of course you are a matcha girl”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked offended as you looked at her.
“It’s a compliment” she murmured, her green eyes focused on your face specifically in your lips when you licked them nervously “Do you have a blanket for tonight? My mom failed to send that”
“Sure, do you need clothes too?” you whispered, your body moving on its own as you leaned closer. Or maybe Natasha was the one moving, you weren’t sure.
“I don’t think they would fit me, I’m taller” she said softly, brushing your hair back “I’m really sorry about all of this”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s definitely not your fault” your noses were now brushing and Natasha’s eyes softened “I like the outfit, though. You should dress like that more often” you teased in a whispered and Natasha chuckled softly.
“Ladies love my grey sweatpants” she murmured against your lips and you hummed.
“Don’t dress for them. Do it for yourself” you whispered, your eyes already closing and Natasha’s fingers tangled with your hair.
“Maybe I will do it. I don’t know” her tone sounded scared, like a wound was still open and she was trying to decide if you were there to hurt her or help her.
But you didn’t give her more time to think, closing the gap between you and kissing her softly. A tender kiss so different from the others you shared, one that spoke volumes about both of your states.
Natasha’s lips were soft, sweet even. You had never noticed because usually she would be moving her lips with hunger and desperation. Right then and there, though, her lips moved slowly and with purpose. As if both of you were opening a door to the most intimate parts of yourselves. Maybe not fully, just ajar and just for the night.
The redhead hovered your body, not quite ready to break the kiss. And you weren’t pushing her away either, your legs already locked around her hips and getting her closer.
“Maybe we shouldn’t” you whispered when her lips travelled down your neck but your head moved to give her more space “Natasha”
“Just for tonight, tomorrow we can go back to normal” she pleaded as she nip your earlobe and you moaned “You can set all the rules you want, but not tonight. I need to feel like myself again”
You pushed her gently, cradling her face with both hands as you assessed her eyes. You’ve been fighting with her for the last two months. You were a true believer that the redhead didn’t have an ounce of humanity in her and that Natasha Romanoff was the devil in disguise.
But that Natasha wasn’t there, not that night.
You only found a broken soul that matched yours. The part of her that she hid from the world, covered by endless layers of arrogance and charm.
And maybe you should’ve stayed firm. But she offered you the cutest puppy eyes and your heart melted. So you decided to blame your emotional state the next morning and give her what she wanted.
“Let’s go to my bed” you murmured and Natasha frowned “We don’t want to ruin your new mattress, do we?”
Natasha chuckled and stood up, offering you a hand to pull you up and she held you tight when you almost tripped.
“Just so you know, I really don’t mind”
Unlike all the other times you both had fucked, this time was way different. Usually, you would be ripping each other’s clothes or worst case scenario it would be more like lifting your skirt and unzipping Natasha’s pants to go straight to the point.
This time you were kissing with a different kind of desperation, walking towards your room that was on the other end of the apartment as your clumsy fingers were working on each other’s clothes, ones you scattered all over the place. Soft moans ripped out of each other’s throats.
You gasped when Natasha pinned you against your door as you tried to find the doorknob. Calloused hands grabbing your thighs as you opened the door and carrying you all the way into your bed.
The redhead barely had time to check out your room. She expected something pink and girlie. But everything was in neutral colours, the outstanding green from plants and lights dimmed. But it seemed cozy, warm like you.
“You are thinking” you whispered when her lips barely moved, your fingers tracing her abdomen and Natasha looked down on you.
“What?” she breathed out and leaned to kiss your neck, licking and sucking gently. Careful not to leave a mark.
“You are thinking” you repeated in between a moan, tugging the waistband of her boxers and pushing them down “Don’t think. Not tonight”
Natasha looked at you. Both of you refused to name the silent exchange or the charged air that spoke volumes. It didn’t mean anything. You both just needed to forget, to stop feeling so much, and what better way than emptying your minds by filling the silence with moans and pleads.
“No thinking” she whispered and whimpered when you grabbed her shaft.
Your hand started jerking her off as she moaned against your collarbone. You already knew what she liked or how she liked things done. You knew her body more than you would ever admit and as much as she knew yours.
The redhead discarded your underwear, careful of not ripping it off because you would kill her. And you helped her out of hers.
Lips clashing against each other, hips grinding not quite sealing the deal but teasing and fingers tender over each other’s skins like it was the first time you had ever touched each other.
“Wait, I need a condom” Natasha whispered against your lips, your hand holding her firmly at the back of her neck.
“I’m on the pill” you breathed out, trying to kiss her again as your other hand travelled between your bodies and she moaned when you squeezed her cock.
“Are you sure?” she insisted and you rolled your eyes.
“Are we doing this or not?” you grunted and for a second, you were back to normal.
“So damn bossy”
But Natasha compiled. Honestly, if she had to break the moment just to look for a condom, she would kill herself.
You spread your legs as Natasha brushed the tip of her dick teasingly over your slit and you whimpered. But before you could scold her about it, the redhead pushed her dick inside of you.
Now, you’ve been fucking enough times for you to get used to her size. Or that’s what you expected every time and you got it wrong anyway. You would never tell Natasha that she was big or good in bed, never. That would only feed her ego and that thing was big enough already.
Your nails scratched her back as she bottomed out. Usually, Natasha would be grinning proudly and cockily. But she was watching you carefully, the way your face contorted with pain and pleasure as she growled under her breath because you were always tight, wet and warm.
“You good?” she whispered, fingers brushing your hair off your face and you bit your lip but nodded “Are you sure?”
“Please” you murmured and she kissed you again.
By now, you both would usually be fucking roughly, a moaning and grunting mess. Shutting each other up with kisses and desperate begs to reach your highs and not really caring if the other one did.
But that night, with your emotions all over the place and your bodies keeping each other grounded, there was a silent agreement of not rushing.
So for once Natasha’s movements weren’t rushed and commanding. She was grinding her hips slowly and caring. Lips travelling from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck. Your head tossing back as you scratched her back trying to ground you, until you moved your hands to her braided her and started undoing it.
Red hair fell down, wavy and soft. Green eyes locked on yours as your fingers caressed her cheekbone.
Natasha was truly beautiful and soft. If you stripped her out of all her layers, if you took a moment to really see her, you would find a broken girl that like you was crushed and forced to be perfect. That in fact, every woman that visited her bed was to fill a void in her aching soul.
She wasn’t proving to the world that she was enough. Natasha was doing it for herself. And she truly believed she wasn’t worth loving.
On the other hand, Natasha also your broken side. The one that was hidden under your bossy demeanour, your arrogance and your too composed self. A woman that yearned for someone to strip her out of her power, one you never wanted and you were forced to have.
You put on a show every day. You presented yourself as collected, perfect, untouchable. When on the inside, you were just scared of people seeing you for who you were because someone made you feel like that wasn’t enough, that wasn’t the side people would like.
Both of you snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks blushing as you avoided each other’s gaze. You locked your legs around her hips and Natasha start grinding faster.
Moans got louder, skins flushed and sweaty, and you were holding onto each other to ground yourselves. To pretend that you didn’t look into each other’s soul. That every dark corner of yourselves wasn’t on display for the other one to see. That you both were doing that to stop thinking, to fuck yourselves back into normal.
Natasha hid her face in your neck, kissing and licking your skin. Your fingers tangled with her hair and scratching her back as her movements turned rougher.
“Fuck, Nat, I’m close” you moaned, one of her hands travelling between your bodies to help you out by rubbing your clit “Fuck yes, just like that”
The redhead whimpered when she felt your velvety walls clenching around her and making her work a little harder. But she focused on you. Lips sucking one of your hardened nipples as her thrusts turned erratic and her thumb pressed on your clit.
You looked down, noticing the way Natasha was focused on one goal. And you grunted before you could speak again, your abdomen tightening and soon your orgasm hitting you like a crashing wave.
You were panting as Natasha slowed down her movements and you kissed her when a cocky smile found its way onto her face. You rolled her down, straddling her hips without letting her pull out.
You straightened up, hands flat over her breasts as you started riding her. Natasha moaned, eyes rolling back as she tried to hold back because she loved when you rode her.
Your arousal dripping down to her hips, coating slightly her abdomen when you leaned to kiss her neck and you both moaned.
Her hands landed on your hips, forcing your movements down as she sat on the bed. You grabbed the back of her neck as she licked your chest.
“That’s it, keep bouncing princess” Natasha whimpered when you fastened your movements, leaning back to steady yourself with her ankles when to keep your rhythm “God, you look so hot”
Her fingers ran down your abdomen. Natasha barely moved away from your sides or your breast, maybe your ass if she had you pinned against a wall. But in that moment, she was truly admiring your body. Perky breast, toned abdomen, the way your collarbone looked sharp with your thin necklace but not as sharp as your hipbones did. Your skin was smooth, silky almost, an empty canvas that she wished she could bruise.
You tossed your head back, enjoying the way her fingers lingered over your skin and she saw it. Your ribcage showing, your long legs thinner than they should be for a dancer and your bony fingers locking around her ankles.
Natasha never questioned your weight, she never noticed that maybe you body was lighter than it should because she was too immersed in her own desires to question anything.
But before she could even think of asking, one of your hands pushed her closer to your chest and her mind turned hazy, going back to lick your skin.
If anyone asked, you would blame it on your drunk on sex state. You would deny it if Natasha did so much as imply that the words were true. But in that moment, you barely had control of your own thoughts even when they were filled with the truth.
“Fuck, I love your cock” you moaned and Natasha pulled you closer, one hand on your back and the other locked on your hip “Don’t stop, please, I’m close”
“I won’t, princess” and it was a promise.
Your hair fell down like a curtain on one side, fingers locked on her chin as you lifted it up and kissed her. Your hips kept bouncing and Natasha felt the moment her own abdomen tightened.
However, you weren’t stopping. Not when you felt her dick twitch inside you or when Natasha whimpered as her fingers dug into your skin. You only went faster and Natasha’s head started spinning.
“Princess, I’m close too” Natasha murmured against your lips and you moaned, biting her lower lip as you tugged her hair “Princess, please”
Your hips moved faster, walls squeezing around her as a threat and Natasha was fighting herself not to cum inside of you. But you grabbed her throat, loosened grip close to her chin and the other hand tugging her hair.
You broke the kiss and looked her in the eyes, too drunk on the moment to think, to stop, to care. You moaned and so did she, eyes darkened but charged with something you both were afraid to name and you pressed your thumb into her chin.
“Do it, Nat. Cum inside of me” you murmured, trying to hold your own orgasm and waiting for her “Fill me, I know you want to do it”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, princess” she whimpered, feeling her own judgement starting to cloud and you forced your hips down at her last attempt to push you off “Princess”
“I’m on the pill” you reminded her, breathless and desperate “Please, Tasha, I want you to. I need you to cum inside of me”
Natasha grunted, every sanity left her body at the sound of your pleads. She hid her face on the crook of your neck as you held her close, protectively and grounding.
It took you two more bounces for her to cry out against your neck, spilling inside of you and making you cum all at once. You weren’t sure whose body shuddered, probably both. Your thighs tights against hers, as she trembled and moaned your name.
Her arms wrapped around you as if you could vanish if she did so much as let go. Your movements slowed down, giving yourselves a moment to ride out your orgasms. Both groaning when you crashed down next to her, making Natasha pull out.
She collapsed on her back, her breath as erratic as yours and clammy limbs touching each other. A comfortable silence stretched out in your room. Air filled with the scent of sex and heavy on feelings that none of you wanted to address.
It was late, you weren’t thinking straight and your body limp against the mattress. Your mind foggy in a blissful state and your muscles sore as it always did after dance practice.
Then Natasha broke the bubble, reality settling down on her as a punishment. Memories of that Saturday flooding her mind as a painful reminder that even in that moment, none of it was hers.
That wasn’t her bed, her home or who she was. You weren’t her girlfriend and whatever that passed between you was nothing but a fantasy to make her forget about everything else.
So she fell back into routine, the only thing that was real between you and the only thing that could snap her back into herself.
The redhead started getting out of bed, trying to push down her own feelings and collect her thoughts. It was one hell of a day, in the morning she would feel better and back to her flirty state.
But you stopped her, fingers locking around her wrist tender but firm. Natasha looked at you in confusion; your eyes fighting to stay opened, your cheeks flushed but there was a soft and inviting smile on your face.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Stay” you murmured and her lips parted but you shook your head “It was one hell of a day, wasn’t it?” she chuckled softly and nodded, sitting back on the bed as you made more room for her.
Both of you worked slowly, moving your sheets around and sliding inside not before turning off the lights. You looked at her with a sheepish smile, face half buried in your pillow and eyes twinkling.
“Are you sure? I can-“ you pressed your index finger over her lips and her eyes softened.
“Tonight we pretend” you whispered, your knuckles caressing her cheek and then your fingers brushing back her hair “Tomorrow we can go back to fighting and make agreements”
“Sounds like a plan to me” she murmured, one hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. You started to drift away and as Natasha admired your features, she frowned “Are you eating?”
You scrunched your nose when she took a strand of your hair and tickle you with it. You groaned when she insisted, turning around and letting her arms pull you closer to her chest.
“I’m tired, Romanoff. Don’t ask about my eating habits” you murmured, nuzzling your pillow and embracing the warmth of her body.
“You are just too skinny” she whispered, her thumb brushing your hipbone and her breath colliding against the back of your neck.
“I thought people like you liked their girls skinny” you murmured, sleep already taking over you and Natasha furrowed her brows.
“That’s not what I mean” but you were deep asleep as her words left her lips. She sighed and placed a soft kiss on your shoulder “I just want you to be safe”
As sleep took over her and her lungs filled with your scent, the mix of lavender and citrus she started to like, Natasha knew she was fucked.
Two women that swore they had nothing in common other than psychical attraction and not even that they would ever admit.
But underneath it all, there was two broken souls seeking love, approval, feeling enough. Two sides of the same coin. A true match made in hell.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: In the midst of her own self-doubt, Natasha says something hurtful to attempt to drive you away from her. She nearly succeeds, but is quick to realise her mistakes. You help her express all of things that she had meant to say.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nat is slightly mean to reader for a second, self-doubt/self-hatred from Nat, mentions of arguments.
𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐌𝐂𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈
There were a hundred ways that the argument could’ve gone. You could’ve walked out. She could’ve followed. One of you could’ve said nothing at all. But that’s never how it worked between you and Natasha.
She’d always been the kind of person who cracked open in silence and stitched herself together in noise.
So, when she said it, when she said the thing that shattered the air between you, it wasn’t even loud. Just sharp. Final.
“Maybe I should’ve left when I had the chance.”
You had been standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing two chipped mugs, lukewarm tea curling down the drain. The window in front of you was open, summer bleeding through the screen in slow, golden waves. You could still hear the ice cream truck four blocks over. The faintest sound of children laughing.
And then she said it. Just like that. And the world stopped turning.
It had been about something small, something dumb. Who had forgotten to close the balcony door. Whether you'd told her about a mission detail or not. It didn’t matter now. Not when her voice still rang in your ears like a final judgment.
You turned to her slowly, eyes unreadable, face composed like she taught you. You didn’t yell. Didn’t even frown. You just nodded once, let the words settle.
“Okay,” you said, almost gently. “Then maybe you should go.”
Natasha’s face twisted instantly, pain blooming behind her eyes like smoke, but you were already brushing past her, stepping over the threshold of whatever you used to be.
The apartment felt too quiet after that.
Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, the faint clink of ceramic echoing in the sink. Her knuckles were white against the counter. She wasn’t even breathing. She hadn’t meant it. God, she hadn’t meant it.
It wasn’t even about you. Not really. It was about her, the parts of her that still believed she wasn’t worth staying for. The way her past still tugged at her in the dead of night, whispering that she could only ever be a weapon, not someone to love.
But that didn’t matter. Because she’d said it. She’d said it like it was something true. And the look on your face wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even betrayal.
It was heartbreak. Quiet. Clean. Like you’d expected it, deep down. And that hurt more than anything else.
You didn’t go far. You never did. You ended up walking aimlessly around the block twice, hands shoved in your jacket, ignoring the way your stomach twisted. The sun had begun to set by the time you found yourself perched on a bench outside the bodega. The one she liked. The one where the cashier knew your names and always snuck you extra packs of gum.
You weren’t crying. Not really. Just blinking too hard. Holding yourself too still.
Maybe it wasn’t about the sentence itself. Maybe it was about how easy it had come out. Like she’d already thought it a thousand times. Like she'd been waiting for the chance to say it aloud.
Or maybe that was just you spiraling. Because if you were honest, you hadn’t been fine lately. Not really. Too many missions. Not enough time. Not enough sleep. You’d been going through the motions, chopping vegetables, folding laundry, kissing her cheek on autopilot, but it had felt like there was a sheet of glass between you both. Something unspoken that neither of you wanted to crack.
Until she cracked it. With one sentence.
You leaned forward, elbows on knees, watching a woman walk her dog down the street. She looked like Natasha, in the way people who don’t look like Natasha sometimes do, when they’re tall, guarded, and walking fast. You stared until they turned the corner, your breath coming out slow.
You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. You weren’t even sure if she’d be there when you went back.
But you knew one thing. If she was, she’d have to say it again. Softer this time. And she'd have to mean it.
Natasha didn’t move. She sat on the floor of the kitchen for twenty-four minutes after you left. Not crying, just still. Her thoughts looping back, retracing every word, every look, every second leading up to the moment she ruined everything.
She didn’t remember when she’d started sabotaging good things before they had the chance to leave her. She just knew it was her oldest reflex. Her worst habit. Like an old injury that never healed right.
But you weren’t like the others. You stayed. Again and again and again. You met her quiet with quiet. Her rage with stillness. Her cold with warmth. You didn’t try to fix her, you just kept showing up. Making her tea. Wrapping your arms around her in the dark when she couldn’t sleep. Whispering ‘I’m here’ when she didn’t believe it.
And she said that to you. Natasha ran a hand down her face. “Idiot,” she muttered. And then she got up.
You heard her before you saw her. The telltale sound of soft boots on concrete. Controlled steps. No rush. But no hesitation, either.
You didn’t look up right away. Just watched her approach through your peripheral vision as she slowed near the bench.
She didn’t sit. Not yet. She just stood in front of you, uncertain.
“I didn’t mean it,” she said quietly.
You nodded once. “I know.”
A pause. She shifted her weight, face unreadable in the amber glow of the streetlight. “I said it to hurt you.”
You met her eyes. “You did.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
There was another long beat of silence. Finally, you patted the bench beside you. “Sit with me.”
Natasha did. Cautiously. Like she wasn’t sure she deserved it. You were quiet together for a moment, just the sound of traffic humming in the background, the sky darkening above you. You didn’t touch. Not yet. Just breathed.
“I don’t think I ever learned how to be loved,” she admitted after a while. Her voice was low, barely audible. “So when it starts to feel like I am, I sabotage it. Before it can leave.”
You looked at her, and she looked like someone unraveling. Carefully. Deliberately.
“I’ve never wanted to stay anywhere,” she continued. “Not until you.”
You let out a soft breath.
“And I’m terrified,” she said. “Because I don’t know how to do this. How to be this. With someone like you. Who’s patient. Who sees me. Who waits even when I’m saying the wrong thing.”
You didn’t answer right away. You let her words sit. Let her feel the way you weren’t running. Finally, you reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against hers. She took your hand.
“You don’t have to know how to be loved,” you said softly. “You just have to let yourself be.”
Natasha looked like she was going to cry, and for once, she didn’t hide it. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I just don’t want to mess it up.”
“You already did,” you said, and the faintest smile tugged at your lips. “But I’m still here.”
That cracked something open in her. You watched her eyes shift, to sadness, then disbelief, then something like hope.
“You’re still here,” she echoed.
You nodded. “I will be. As long as you meet me halfway.”
She didn’t answer with words. She just leaned into you, forehead against your shoulder, arms winding around your waist. And you held her. You held her like she wasn’t a spy, or a soldier, or a broken thing with too many sharp edges. You held her like a person.
A person who hurt you. A person who regretted it. A person you still loved.
Later, when you both got home, quiet steps echoing through the hallway, you made tea. You didn’t speak. She just watched you pour hers and add honey, like you always did. And when you set the cup down in front of her, she reached out and took your hand again, steady this time.
“I’ll get better at this,” she said.
You smiled. “You already are.”
She looked down at your intertwined fingers, then back up at you. “I don’t want to be the person who says things like that,” she murmured.
“Then don’t,” you said gently. “Say something else next time.”
She hesitated. “Like what?”
You brushed a hand over her cheek, thumb grazing the place her sadness lived. “Say, ‘I’m scared,’” you said. “Say, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’ Say, ‘Please don’t go.’ Just don’t push me away and call it love.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Okay,” you echoed, softer.
And then she leaned in, resting her forehead against yours.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Please don’t go.”
“I won’t.”
That night, you fell asleep with her arms wrapped tightly around you, like she was anchoring herself to the only thing she trusted not to drift.
She didn’t speak again, not with words, but her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, and her breath evened out only when you reached back to hold her tighter.
She’d said something hurtful. Something sharp and cruel and unfair.
But she came back. And she said something better. And that mattered more.
summary: songfic based on the song ‘lunch’, fluff + smut, reader being obsessed with pop culture; based on this request
warnings: smut (fingering, r receiving), alcohol, tony being a bitch, age gap (r is in her 20s, n in her 30s)
word count: 7.5k
✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷
Press conferences aren't your thing. They aren't Natasha's, either. But when the Avengers cause a whole building to collapse in on itself, there's more than enough damage control to do.
It's Tony who makes you handle it. He has experience with your work — one time, when he caused some huge scandal by doing nothing but being himself, you swooped in and magically fixed his image.
Fast-talking, unbothered, quippy. Speedy at cleaning up after him when he mouthed off once more, excellent at keeping him in check even during interviews and speeches. Too good to let go, he hired you. Now that the Avengers, him included, are in trouble, he decided it's you who should handle this as well.
High heels clack on smooth tiles. The iced matcha in your hand gets dangerously close to spilling with each step. There's an iPad tucked under your arm and a pair of sunglasses pushed up into your hair.
"You blew up a building", you say, steps getting quicker the closer to the huge double doors you get. "How does that happen?"
"It wasn't me", Tony says. He snaps his fingers at his security guard, who immediately leaps forward to open the doors for you. "Some kind of accident, you know. Collateral damage."
"You injured five people."
"Yes, and everyone else survived because we evacuated it in time."
"There's a daycare on the first two floors. Two kids are in the hospital."
You both step into a huge hall that feels more like a pressure cooker than anything else. Rows of reporters, camera crews, studio lights shining down at you like it's the Met Gala. Cameras flash when they notice Tony step in, but you quickly make your way to the raised stage.
You spot the others quickly. They're standing in a crooked half circle, some crossing their arms and others tucking their hands into the pockets of their pants.
All of them get a once-over from you, but Natasha is the only one your eyes linger on. Her makeup is subtle, as is her outfit. It's elegant, though. Sleek, gorgeous. The black clothes pair well with her lipstick of choice.
What you get in return is nothing more but a short glance, then she turns back to Clint and mumbles something. You raise your eyebrows but don't comment on it. Instead, you turn back to Tony.
"Alright, you lead the conversation. Nobody else talks unless directly spoken to. Just repeat what I told you in the car", you say, waving an assistant closer without looking at him. "Here are flashcards. Read them, but don't use them during the press conference."
"We know the drill", Natasha says somewhat gently. You give her a wink and hand her the flashcards.
"Not the way I do. Go sit down. Don't sweat, don't stutter, don't embarrass yourselves. You'll end up all over Twitter otherwise."
Clint salutes, Steve offers you a brief smile. Natasha starts making her way upstage as well, but you step in front of her and shake your head. She freezes when you start straightening her collar.
"There, much better", you say, glancing at her. She's glaring. "Put that scowl away. It makes people nervous."
"That's not a bad thing."
"It is when there's cameras", you say smoothly. You offer her a smile and her jaw ticks. "Though those seem to love you. Now go and make sure Thor doesn't improvise."
She stares at you, but you're already nudging her towards the stairs. For some reason, she starts walking. Usually, she's the one bossing others around — but from this moment on, that changes.
Everyone in the room is staring at the stage. Every camera, every microphone, is pointed at the people sitting up there. You stand to the side, watching Steve sit too straight and Clint look too bored. They haven't even started talking and yet it already looks like a disaster in the making.
You test your earpiece, then nod at Tony to start the press conference. He's distracted, tugging at his suit and yawning quietly, but once you loudly clear your throat, he sits up.
The first ten minutes are fine. Somewhat. Tony did get some sort of media training — but he half-assed it. The moment he was done, he went back to his usual routine of making fun of reporters and complaining about having to answer questions he doesn't have the time for.
That's what you're here for. With a few visual cues and the occasional eyebrow raise, you get him through every question while also making sure he doesn't embarrass himself and the team. Then, the others follow.
Steve is awkward, but polite. A bit too earnest, in your opinion, but at least you can trust him to not cause a scandal.
Clint barely says anything. He apologizes and then shoots you a look that says: 'good enough?'
It isn't, but you let it slide. You prefer that over what Thor says, anyway. The moment he leans forward on his massive arms, a way too thoughtful look on his face, you know this can't end well. You're right — he starts talking about how kids 'need to be resilient' and how he 'fell off a cliff and survived', which makes you leap forward and interrupt him.
"Thank you, Thor", you say, trying not to talk too fast out of sheer panic. "What we're trying to say is- oh, you have a question for Natasha?"
You turn around and glance at her. She lifts her eyebrows and mouths no. All she gets in return is a happy little smile.
"She'd love to! Right, Ms. Romanoff?", you ask. She glares at you, refusing to even look at the microphone in front of her. You mouth careful before continuing to speak. "Admittedly, she wasn't directly involved in the building's collapse, but it'd be lovely to hear what she experienced."
Just like that, you throw her to the wolves. Natasha doesn't expect to start dating you not even a year later.
. . .
"All over Twitter", you mumble, stretched out on your couch and scrolling through your For You page. "God, you fucked up."
Natasha shrugs wordlessly, her hand slowly rubbing your calf. She didn't even agree to getting interviewed — they just showed up one morning, cameras and microphones in hand, and made the Avengers sit down one by one. She ended up refusing almost every question. The answers she did give were less than satisfactory. She actually caused a little outrage on social media.
Technically, it's Tony's fault. He's the one who agreed without their consent and invited the interviewers over. His replies were atrocious as well, but since everyone is used to his eccentrics, nobody batted an eye.
"They'll forget about it by next week", she brushes it off. "They always do."
You roll your eyes and click on another video. Natasha, sitting there with her arms crossed and staring straight into the soul of the poor woman across from her. The person who posted it titled it 'assassin eyes'.
"What was your media training for?", you ask, scrolling through the comments. "Jesus, you're a meme."
"A what now?"
"Meme", you say slowly, enunciating each syllable. You turn around your phone but she ignores you, so you hold it directly in front of her. "Look at this."
Natasha sighs, but takes her eyes off the tv. She watches the short clip with a tightened jaw before gently pushing your hand away.
"It's an edited video."
"No, it's a-" You cut yourself off and sigh, slumping into the couch. She grins, not looking at you, and wraps her arm around your shoulders. You smell cologne and shampoo. Good thing she insists on showering after each time she uses a gun. "Forget it."
"You and your modern lingo", she murmurs, leaning in to press her lips to your temple. "'Assassin eyes.' You agree?"
You give a playfully thoughtful hum and pull away enough to inspect her. Fingers tugging at your bottom lip, you keep going until she raises her eyebrows and taps your shoulder.
"No", you say, giggling, and sink into her again. "They're pretty. Seriously."
She's smiling a bit too hard. "Good. I was worried you'd listen to those trolls."
You shake your head, absently looking at what's happening onscreen. You're not even sure what movie Natasha put on — it seems like some kind of old espionage thriller, though. Not your cup of tea, but it's not like you'd been watching, anyway.
"You're still getting that media training", you say, shifting until you're in her lap. She groans, hands already under your shirt. "You're embarrassing me out there."
Natasha frowns and lightly pinches your side. You nearly squirm right out of her lap again. "Excuse me?"
"You're making it look like I'm a rookie!", you gasp, batting at her hand. She only hugs you tighter. "Nat, 'why do you give a shit?' is not an appropriate answer."
"Baby, everything is an appropriate answer", she says. Warm lips pepper kisses along your shoulder, almost softening your attitude. "Those people are too bold."
"You wouldn't last a day as a celebrity", you mutter.
For some reason, you lean into her anyway. She's wearing one of those soft, old hoodies she owns. Probably one that disappeared from Clint's clothesline one day and never showed up again. Her fingers are hot against your stomach, and her lips find that one hickey she left on the back of your neck last night.
"I'm not a celebrity?", she asks, voice muffled. "That's insulting."
"Not a celebrity-celebrity. I mean, you'd never get invited to the Met Gala", you explain, stretching out in her lap. "You'd make it to Love Island, though. Maybe."
Natasha pauses, her fingers rubbing your stomach and her brain running in circles. Pop culture has never been her thing. She spent the first two decades of her life in the Red Room, after all. Life was about survival — and still is, to be completely honest. There's little motivation for keeping up with trends and tv shows when you're trying not to die 90% of the time.
She tries, anyway. She watches tv, she (reluctantly) lets you shove your phone into her face whenever you see something you want her to see as well. In the car, you connect your phone to the speaker and play your music. Still, your references sometimes catch her off guard.
"Is that in Europe?", she asks carefully. You bite back a laugh. "I heard that."
You shake your head and reach for the remote. She tries to complain, but it falls on deaf ears. "It's not in Europe. Watch."
The picture onscreen changes to a woman in a bikini, sitting by a pool and eating ice cream. Natasha pauses, her hand still on your stomach.
"It's a show?"
"A dating reality show", you confirm, snuggling into her again. She hums absently. "You'd hate it."
She's sure she would. Trapped on an island with a bunch of people in swimwear, squinting at ring lights and trying not to threaten anyone. Watching the show is bad enough — she can't imagine actually being a part of it.
"I would", she says, kissing your neck again. "I don't want to date anyone else, anyway. Can you turn that off now?"
"It's a new episode!", you say, keeping your hands wrapped around the remote like she's about to swipe it from you. "Just watch."
Natasha groans, but doesn't argue. The movie she'd been watching was boring, anyway. Not quite as boring as what you put on, but at least you've stopped talking about memes and the online discourse on her eyes.
. . .
The moment Natasha hears music playing on your phone, she squeezes her eyes shut tighter.
It's 6am. The sun isn't even fully up yet. After returning from a mission at midnight, she needs sleep. You, on the other hand, are curled up on your side with your knees pulled to your chest. Your face glows from the brightness of the screen you're holding right in front of your eyes.
She can barely make out the lyrics. She definitely can't tell what song it is. All she hears is something about someone taking pictures in front of a mirror, and tired as she is, she doesn't care enough to question it. Instead, she rolls over so she's facing the wall.
Bad idea. You want to show her something and you're insistent about it. The bedsheets rustle, and a sleep-warm body nestles into her from behind. You wrap your arm around her shoulder and show her the video.
"New music", you whisper into her ear, with your breath tickling her skin. "This is a snippet."
"I'm sleeping", she mumbles. Her eyes open, anyway, and she watches the TikTok. A girl, in front of a mirror — how fitting — and a bandana on her head. "Okay. Nice."
"Do you know who that is?"
"No", she says, already closing her eyes and shifting to get into a more comfortable position. "Does it matter?"
"Yes, it matters", you say, eyebrows raised. "That's Billie. New album, hello!"
Natasha hums and nods. She's barely listening. She's not thinking. All she can feel is the warmth from both you and the bed you're in. Outside, it's silent. It could be so peaceful, but the video's sound is playing on loop. You're still expecting enthusiasm, so she tries her best.
"That's the girl with the voice you like?", she mumbles, already sleepy again. "'S good."
"She is", you confirm, eyeing Natasha as she dozes off again. "I played her in the car."
All she manages is a nod. Her limbs feel heavy, and so do her eyes. You scoot closer again, phone tossed aside, and bury your face against her shoulder. It is early, even you know that much. You're not as tired as she is, but your sleeping habits are horrendous — staying up on your phone all night is something you need to unlearn.
You bury your face against her back. She exhales quietly, her mind slipping into sleep. Your fingers trail along her side, her skin warm and smooth. It's almost too good to be true.
"There's this trend on TikTok", you suddenly say, making her groan. "Can we?"
"No."
You end up doing the trend, anyway. The video goes viral on multiple social media platforms. Natasha insists it'll ruin her reputation, but based off the comments and captions, you feel like the opposite might be the case here.
. . .
The kitchen is crowded but quiet. It's a slow morning — spoons clink against bowls filled with cereal, hot coffee is poured into mugs, it smells like someone burnt their toast.
Natasha is fully awake, for once. She's drinking her coffee black and eating her toast plain. Upon further inspection, you realize it's her toast that's burnt. She doesn't seem to mind, though.
"Should've put butter on it", you say, suppressing a yawn. "I want to go back to bed."
"You can't", she says mildly, not looking up from her phone. All you did was send her one edit of the team during a fight, and now she's going down a seemingly endless rabbit hole of fan edits. "Media training. Gala. People in need."
"Yap yap yap", you mutter. You crane your head to get a look at her screen. "Hey, that's you."
Somehow, she stumbled across a thirst trap someone made of her. Some song is playing in the background — she doesn't care to figure out which one it is — and she's taking out some guy by wrapping her legs around his neck and slamming him into the ground. She doesn't know who made the edit, either, but she's scared to find out how they found the footage.
Natasha slowly leans away from her phone, apprehension written all over her face. "What's with the caption?"
"Huh?" You rub your eyes and squint slightly. "Oh. They want you to try that on them."
"What the fuck", she mutters, face deadpan. You scoff and grab her phone.
"That's so disrespectful. I mean, you're taken. I exist. If your legs should be anywhere, it'd be around my-"
Natasha's head snaps up, her eyebrows raised in silent warning. You're not alone. The kitchen is so full you swear you can feel everyone's breaths on you. Your sex life isn't secret — she still doesn't feel like they all need to hear. It'd end in the entire team teasing you.
"Do not finish that sentence", she mumbles, glancing at her phone again. "What's the point in this?"
You shrug and slide off the counter to grab one of the donuts Tony ordered. You take a bite and walk back to her side to lean against her.
It's routine. Her arm comes up to wrap around you automatically.
"They think you're hot", you say, chewing, and give her a pointed look. "Can't blame them."
Natasha glares, but wavers quickly when her eyes drop to your lips. Glossy, with tiny sugar granules sticking to one corner. She shrugs and nods her head, nose brushing against yours.
"No", she murmurs, briefly kissing you. "Definitely can't."
She pulls away way too quickly. You cup her face with one hand and tug her back into the kiss, decidedly ignoring everyone around you. It's slow, somewhat innocent (unlike your thoughts) — just a firm press of lips. Just fingers sliding into hair and noses bumping.
That's how it starts. Suddenly, you feel her hand right under your ass. She squeezes gently and turns around enough to back you up against the counter. Behind her, Steve drops his spoon.
"Get a room", Tony says, throwing a sweet n low sachet at the back of Natasha's head. "Not this room. Not my kitchen."
You smile against her lips before pulling away. She stays in front of you, standing firm like a brick wall. She steps forward until the counter is pressing against your lower back.
"What do you suggest?", you ask, softening as she rubs your sides. "Go back upstairs? Or make the idiots uncomfortable?"
"Very funny", she says quietly. She leans in and pecks your lips, then taps your ass. "Go, go get dressed. We still need to get media trained."
"It's a hopeless affair", you say, but do as told anyway. Natasha runs her hand down your back as you walk away. Her eyes stay on you as you make your way up the stairs, then she turns back around to the team.
"Media training?", Tony says, moving to the sink to wash his mug. "Better not do that in front of everyone else. It's highly unprofessional to have our PR manager make out with a client."
"We're not her clients", she replies, downing the last bit of her coffee. "She's a teammate."
"We're her clients", he repeats. "You're not the only one she bosses around, sorry."
She glances at him, her lips tugging into a smirk. Before she can say what's right on the tip of her tongue, Tony waves his hand to stop her. He knows what she's thinking. He'd rather not know any more details about your private life.
"I don't want to hear it."
"You're sure?", she grins. "You're basically asking for it, you know."
"Well, I'm not", he says. He nods at the stairs. "Follow her example and get ready. We're leaving in ten."
Natasha hums and straightens up. Of course — the gala. Not something she wants to attend, but she has no choice. You're making her go due to some public image thing you keep talking about. She'd stay home if she could, especially since she knows you'll be bored five minutes into the whole thing, but that's not an option. Apparently, you make the calls around here.
. . .
Late afternoon. Natasha's locked out of your room. She's adjusting her cufflinks and trying to get you to open the door.
"We have to leave", she calls impatiently. "Tony's been on my ass for ten minutes, babe."
"Tell him to fuck off!", you yell back. She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything.
Media training didn't go too well. Somehow, Tony's managed to answer every single one of your questions wrong — and you're not sure whether that was on purpose just to piss you off, or whether he's actually forgotten everything you ever taught him.
She doesn't want to talk to you about it, and that's a relief. If you're so much as reminded about his behavior, you might go and tear his head off yourself. Instead, you're turning in front of the mirror and trying to make the dress look good. It's wine-red, which is a color you usually don't go for. But sleepy as you were, you managed to order it in the wrong color. Such a shame it arrived too late for you to replace it.
"Where is she?", Steve suddenly says. Natasha whips around. "Hey, we're matching."
She glances at his suit and his tie. Unfortunately, they're similar to hers.
"Great", she deadpans. "What does that say about me?"
"That you have excellent taste?", he says, shrugging. He nods at the door. Inside the room, something fell over and thudded against the floor. "What's going on?"
Natasha sighs and leans against the wall, already forgetting about the suits. "Her dress is in the wrong color. Her hair is not hairing the right way. She wishes she'd done her nails differently. I think she's nervous."
Steve hums. He's pretending like he understands, even if he's more than a little confused. His only goal is to look respectable and not get into any sort of drama tonight.
"I bet she looks good, anyway", he says absently. Natasha shoots him a warning look. "What?"
"You know what."
"Is she done?", Tony calls from downstairs. "Tell her I'm sorry! I'll be nice."
"Tell him to eat shit!", you shout from your room. The door opens rapidly and slams against the door stop. "I hate this."
Natasha opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, she's staring like she has five seconds to memorize what she's seeing.
The dress is nothing short of perfect. The color is beautiful, even if you don't like it. The neckline is deep and revealing. There's a long cut in the side. With the shimmering necklace you paired with it, it looks like straight out of a movie.
You tilt your head at her. She's still not speaking. She just steps forward and puts her hands on your waist.
"It's the wrong shade of red", you say, frowning even when she kisses your cheek.
"I love it."
"It's really pretty", Steve adds when you catch his eye over Natasha's shoulder. "Ready to go?"
"Only if Tony isn't going", you mutter, leaning into the woman in front of you. She's palming your sides with regret in her eyes — soon enough, she'll be in a car and on her way to an event she'd rather not attend.
Steve sighs and adjusts his watch. "He's the star of the show, unfortunately. Come on, we'll make sure you don't have to sit in the same car as him."
You groan. Natasha smiles against your temple and twirls you around before taking your hand to lead you downstairs. As you walk beside Steve, you get the chance to quickly look at both his and Natasha's suits.
"Hey, you're twinning."
"Don't remind me", she immediately says, her eyes darting toward you. You smile and squeeze her hand.
Outside, multiple sleek black cars are waiting for you. Tony's there already, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Pepper's trying her hardest not to look bored, Clint has sat down in one of the cars already, and Thor is making it everyone's problem that his suit isn't comfortable.
Two minutes of arguing with Tony later, you and Natasha sit down in one of the cars. It's just the two of you, so she puts her hand high up on your thigh.
Then, she doesn't pay attention for five seconds. When she looks at you again, you've grabbed your phone to scroll through some social media platform. She sees an edit of herself and quickly snatches the device from your hands.
"Hey, what-"
"You've got the real thing sitting next to you", she cuts you off and waves your phone around, "and you'd rather look at a screen?"
Your cheeks flush red. In a poor attempt to act unbothered, you scoff and grab your purse to reach for your lipstick.
"I was just scrolling", you say dismissively. "Not everything is about you. Also, Billie's album is dropping at midnight and I can't miss anything."
Natasha raises her eyebrows, but doesn't budge. She turns off your phone before slipping it into your purse. Somehow, thanks to some glitch in the universe, you don't complain nor fight back. Instead, you slump into your seat.
"Come on", she says, already feeling bad — and cursing herself for it. "What's wrong now?"
"Nothing", you say, crossing your arms. "You better make up for this later."
She tilts her head. She knows what you mean, and she isn't going to protest in any way. Her eyes sweep over your outfit again and her stomach tightens at the sight. In less than an hour, your pictures will be all over the internet. They always are. For some reason, people love to obsess over the newbie teammate.
"Oh yeah?", she mumbles, squeezing your thigh. "I'm not saying no."
"Well, you better not", you retort. She laughs and leans in to quickly kiss your cheek. "I'm not in the mood for the red carpet."
Natasha hums and kisses the spot behind your ear. Perfume and shampoo mix and cloud her senses. She doesn't even notice you're approaching the venue.
"Me neither", she rasps. Her hand slides up your thigh, fingertips first grazing and then slipping beneath your underwear. Your hips nearly jerk. "Should've stayed home. I told you."
"It's an important event", you say, grabbing her wrist before she can fully slide her fingers into you. She pulls away to look at you with mock-innocent eyes. "Nat, there's a chauffeur in the front."
"Security screen", she says. She pecks your lips and pulls away. "Come on, gala time."
You stare at her. Chest heaving, thighs clenched, pride in tatters. Outside, you see an entire crowd of people and dozens of cameras. Flashes are going off already, and you haven't even stepped out of the car yet.
"You're kidding."
"No. Come on." She nods at the red carpet not too far away. "You've said it yourself, being late is rude."
You're still staring, still not moving. Finally, Natasha unfastens your seatbelt and opens the door for you. You slide out of your seat with a scoff, almost tripping on your way out.
Cameras go off the second you're outside. They're way too bright, blinding, and you do your best not to squint. With her arm around your waist, you start walking. Everyone else follows after you, and the flashes and yells and requests from photographers only get worse.
"Hurry", you mumble at Natasha. She nods and lets you set the pace.
Inside, you last 15 minutes. You're cornered by a bunch of reporters first. It's all familiar — a bunch of questions, most of them very standard and unoriginal. Then, the next group of people comes walking over, usually investors. Once those have left, you find your table and exhale dramatically.
"I'm crashing out."
Natasha gives you a long look. "You're what now?"
You grab a champagne glass from one of the servers passing by and drink it all at once, then gesture at your surroundings. "Look at this!"
She shrugs and sits down, putting her hand on yours as it rests on the table. "It's a fundraiser. It's bound to get repetitive."
"It's boring", you say, leaning back. Your fingers tangle with hers, then you move your hand to touch your index fingers together. "Hey, we're holding space."
Her eyebrows furrow. She looks at your hands on the table, then at you, then pulls away. You're sure you've explained this to her before, but apparently, she didn't listen. You roll your eyes.
"I sent you the TikToks", you say, giving her a pointed look. "How are you confused?"
"Holding space?", she repeats. "What kind of space?"
You sigh, head tilted, and reach out to touch her cheek. She snorts and swats at your hand.
"At least your face card is good."
Natasha pauses, then slowly shakes her head. Another thing she doesn't understand, even though you've definitely tried to make her understand this one before.
"And they said the age difference wouldn't matter", she mumbles.
You give her an offended look, but your lips twitch slightly. You scoff and wave your hand dismissively, then you grab your purse and pull out your phone. She glances at you and sighs.
You're already scrolling through TikTok. It took you less than a couple minutes to be hit with the urge to keep up with the latest trends.
"Seriously?"
You don't react. You're too focused on whatever video you're watching, an absent grin on your face. Finally, you giggle and show her the screen. "This is so brainrot."
Natasha stares at you, desperately ignoring the screen and whatever monstrosity is playing on it. "I'm not even going to ask."
"I'll get you a dictionary", you say. You kick back, ankles crossed, and keep scrolling. "When's this ending?"
"Past midnight, I'm sure. We didn't get out before 1am last time."
You groan quietly. The last even you went to was some kind of awards ceremony for breakthroughs in physics and other sciences. Tony dragged you there — his excuse was that everyone should celebrate science, but you're certain he just wanted to see you suffer.
"Worst day of my life", you mutter. "I've never been in a room with that many boring people."
Natasha's lips twitch. She agrees, silently, and puts her arm around you when someone finally hops on stage. You put your phone aside — begrudgingly — and lean into her. Your head on her shoulder, she turns slightly to kiss your eyebrow.
It's an event similar to the other ones you've attended. Honorary awards are given out, speeches are given by a few people, Tony gets up on stage and makes a joke that only causes half the audience to laugh.
Cameras are everywhere. You and Natasha barely get the chance to eat since every few minutes someone stops at your table. Pictures are taken, soft music is playing, the gala comes to an end with an auction. A dance floor is revealed, and you immediately get up for a very different reason.
"Let's go home", you say, holding up the hem of your dress as to not drag it through a puddle of wine someone spilled.
Natasha glances at the others. Tony and Pepper are dancing, Steve is standing to the side and looking awkward as some woman flirts with him. Bruce is getting ready to go home, as is Clint.
"Five minutes", she says, looking at you. "It'd be rude to just disappear."
You give her a deadpan look. "Don't use my own words against me."
"I'm just saying", she replies, getting up, "we should take care of our public image, shouldn't we? Make sure we're being respectful."
"Not today!"
"Come on." She reaches out her hand. You stare at it — no rings, no nail polish, just slender fingers and clean nails. You sigh and grab it. "It'll be fun."
"You hate being in the spotlight", you remind her. She laughs quietly and pulls you into the middle of the room.
Her hands on your waist, your arms around her neck. The music is slow still, a melody playing lazily. Other couples and people dance and chat around you, but you don't pay them any mind. Instead, you lean in to kiss her — and maybe convince her to leave.
Natasha nods her head and deepens the kiss just enough to make heat crawl down your spine. You exhale and pull away after a moment. Your gaze immediately finds its way to her lips, now smudged with your lipstick.
"My heels hurt. Can we go?"
"We've been here for two minutes", she mumbles. You almost moan when she squeezes your waist. "Be patient."
"I don't want to be", you complain. Then, you quickly look at your surroundings. You check whether there are any cameras pointed at you — none, as far as you can tell — and whether anyone is looking.
People are preoccupied. You don't waste any time and quickly grab the outline of your dress to pull it aside, flashing her. Smooth skin, one nipple peeking out, a little hickey from two nights ago. You’re smiling ear to ear.
Natasha short-circuits, staring like a deer in the headlights. Before she can process what's happening, she's tugging you closer and using her own blazer as a shield.
"What are you doing?", she hisses, cheeks pink. "There's people here!"
You smile, giggling under your breath. "How fast do you think we can get kicked out? Because I have ideas."
"Don't you dare", she warns. She adjusts your dress with her free hand, but it's no use — the image of bare skin is ingrained into her mind, and there's not much she can do about it. "You've got to be kidding me. There'll be pictures all over the internet."
"At least that one video of you will be forgotten about."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"No", you say, stepping closer. "But you can make me feel better. So let's go home."
Natasha stares, contemplating. Either you stay here and dance, or you go home and have sex. It's an easy decision, so she sighs and grabs your hand.
"Ha", you say, happy at last. "Knew I'd convince you."
"Your boobs did", she mutters. "Hurry."
The second you're inside the car, you're squished into one corner together. You kiss her, take off your heels without pulling away, climb into her lap. She grabs your hips and manhandles you into a more comfortable position.
You both taste like champagne. It smells like perfume and whatever scent is hanging up front in the car. Music is playing. The radio host announces that the album Hit Me Hard and Soft just dropped, and you pull away with your chest heaving and your lips swollen.
"Fuck, the new music!"
Natasha gives you a look of disbelief. She runs one hand through her hair and tries to tug you closer with the other. "What?"
"Billie's album", you explain. "'Lunch'?"
"That's your priority right now?"
"No, but..."
She glares and squeezes your hip. "Don't finish that sentence. Seriously."
"Can we listen to it?", you beg, adjusting the lapels of her suit. "Please."
Natasha's head drops back against the seat's headrest. Her fingers twitch against your sides, the fabric of the dress silky and smooth. If she could, she'd take it off right here. But that's not an option, anyway, so lets out a sigh.
"Only because we're still in the car", she mutters. You press a quick kiss to her lips. "Don't butter me up, I already said yes."
"Love you", you say, already grabbing your phone.
Seconds later, the song starts playing. You cup her face and kiss her again.
By the time you get home, your lips are slick and swollen. You're barely holding on at this point — you manage to make it upstairs, but that's where the switch flips. Your back meets the wall, her hands roam your sides. The zipper makes a quiet noise when she pulls it down.
She parts from you for a second, but you pull her back into an even deeper kiss. Her hand slips under your dress, fingers wedging between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. You're dripping down your thighs.
"Bed", you gasp against her mouth. She shakes her head and trails kisses from your mouth to your neck.
"Got something for you. Bathroom."
You let out a breathy noise, but you can't even complain. Your head is spinning, you held back the urge to pull her into an empty corner for hours now, and if you have to wait even longer, you might just finish things yourself.
You're still intertwined when you enter the bathroom. Natasha locks the door before pushing you against it, the doorknob right against your back. She gently slides the dress down your body and puts it aside, but you're eyeing something else.
A stack of clothes on the bathroom counter, the fabric sheer and lacy. Pink lingerie. You know your wardrobe — you haven't seen this before.
"Oh", you mumble. "Didn't expect that."
"You don't have to wear it", she says, kissing your hair while she undoes your bra. "Maybe you could try it on, though. I saw it and thought of you."
"Sweet." You look up and smile. Your lipstick is smudged all over her mouth, and you reach up to wipe at it with your thumb. "Later. It can wait, but I can't."
She rolls her eyes. Her smile betrays her, though, so she quickly hides it by kissing your neck. Her fingers tug at the waistband of your underwear before letting it drop.
You walk backwards. The tiled wall is cold against your bare skin. Natasha only pulls away enough for you to take off her blazer. You grab her tie and yank her closer, kissing her while also undoing the buttons on her shirt with one hand. Sweat is beading on the back of her neck already.
Your elbow hits the shower valve next to you. Water comes spraying out, soaking you both. Natasha curses before leaning in again, lips smushed to yours. Once her clothes are off and tosses out of the shower, you pull her closer.
It's slippery already. Her skin, yours, the floor. You're surprised you haven't fallen yet, especially with how urgent you're being.
Your hips buck into her touch when her hand moves between your legs. She grabs your thigh with the other and hoists it up, wrapping it around her leg. You moan and she sees stars.
Natasha doesn't know if you're wet from the shower or because of something entirely different. Her fingers thrust in easily, and your moans turn more desperate. Sounds echo off the tiled walls.
"Are you holding back?", you somehow manage to pant. "Don't."
"I'm not", she mutters, mildly offended, and buries her face against your neck. Wet kisses against moist skin, thumbing your clit and steam filling the small space. "I love you."
You almost say it back, but she hits a spot deep inside of you. Your back arches, knees nearly giving in — and she suddenly slows down.
"Hey", you complain, out of breath and pent up. "Can we not?"
"It's funny", she says, more smug than she should be. Her fingers are moving at a slower pace now, occasionally hitting that one sweet spot but never doing enough to push you over the edge. "You get so mad. It's cute."
Your mouth opens, and nothing comes out. Natasha adds a third finger, feeling you stretch around her. Her mind blanks when you clench and heat shoots down into her own core.
Four thrusts. She's counting. That's all it takes for you to come, hands grasping at slippery skin and legs buckling, clenching around her hand like you're greedy for more. She stares, stunned, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.
You look up at her when she pulls away. Her red curls are wet and sticking to her face, her lips are still lipstick-smudged. You hum and squeeze her shoulder.
"Wasn't that hard, was it?"
"No", she agrees, dumbfounded. She's acting like she hasn't experienced this over and over before. "You're okay?"
"More than okay."
She nods, fingers tracing your sides. She nuzzles your cheek, kisses it, then pulls away.
It doesn't require words. You step out of the shower without talking. She grabs a towel and wraps it around you before drying herself off. You send her into the bedroom to get dressed, then you grab the set of lingerie she left for you.
It fits perfectly. When you open the door to the bedroom and lean against the wall, Natasha immediately gets up from the bed. She's in sweatpants and a simple top now, and you're staring just as hard as she is.
"It's beautiful", she mumbles earnestly, gently pulling you into her. "You're beautiful. You like it?”
"It's perfect", you assure her. She kisses your shoulder and slowly walks backwards until the mattress hits her knees. Sitting down on the bed, she guides you into her lap. "My favorite spot."
"Yeah, yeah. Sweet-talker." Natasha looks up, her hands rubbing your sides. "I had fun tonight, you know. Even if I couldn't wait to get home."
You smile faintly and run your hands through her hair. She leans into the touch, her heart pounding.
"I hated every second", you reply, making her scoff. "Couldn't wait to get home."
"Well, we're home now." She tilts her head up to press her lips to yours, but it's a short one. Her eyes trail down your body again, now only clad in the thin lingerie she picked out. In the soft lighting of the lamp next to you, she can see your skin shimmer through the fabric.
Her hands slide over your thighs. She looks up again, studying your face and trying to read your thoughts. Whether you're tired enough to go to bed, or whether you want more. Whether she'd get away with slipping her hand into your shorts.
You cup her face and tip it up. Her lips are warm and still slightly swollen when you kiss them. Judging by the way your tongue pushes into her mouth, she feels like it's safe enough to go for it.
Natasha presses her thumb against you through the fabric of the lingerie. She finds your clit and starts to rub it in lazy circles. Your brain stutters, making the kiss clumsy and messy.
"You good?", she mumbles, moving her mouth to your chest and burying her head in it. You run one hand into her hair to tug on it.
"I'm good", you confirm, breathing ragged. Her fingers push through the fabric, not quite entering but teasing enough to make you squirm. "Fuck."
Hickeys are scattered all over your chest. She kneads your thigh with one hand and fingers you with the other, the lingerie damp against your skin. Your back arches a little, and she tilts her head up to kiss the underside of your jaw.
Your thighs clench, the muscles in your lower belly tighten. Her fingertips brush against the right spot, making your heart rate kick up. Natasha notices every reaction. They all spur her on.
She nudges the lingerie aside and finally fully slides her fingers into you. Every nerve lights up at the touch, and your breaths turn even more shallow as you try to locate that little trigger that'll push you over the edge.
Her open mouth presses against your pulse point. A little bite, a curling of her fingers, and an involuntary noise escapes you. Heat floods your body, muscles spasming and back arching, your thighs trembling. She fucks you through it, her mouth working on your neck like she wants it covered in bruises.
Even when the feeling's passed, you're still twitching. You glance down at her, both your faces flushed, and exhale quietly. The aftershocks linger, and your forehead drops against hers.
"Done?", Natasha mumbles.
"Mhm." You can barely think, let alone speak. She smiles.
"No sitting on my face tonight, then?", she teases. You let out an exhausted laugh. "Hey, don't make fun of me. I'm dead serious."
"Not tonight", you say. She hums and wraps her arm around your thighs, then flips you over so you're on your back. A low grunt makes it past your lips. "Tomorrow."
"Sure." She kisses your forehead, then turns around to grab her phone.
You frown, confused and still warm all over. You shouldn't talk — you're horrible when it comes to screen time and using your phone while spending time with her — but you don't do it right after sex. But then, a song starts playing over the speakers in her room. You've never heard it, but you recognize it, anyway.
"Billie?", you ask, scooting closer. Natasha puts her phone aside. "I love you, you know.
"Right", she mumbles. She adjusts her position a little to let you cuddle into her side. "You're only saying that because I put her album on."
You roll your eyes and scoff quietly. Your fingertips run up and down her front, your heart is pressed right to the spot where her heart is. The song is good, but the gentle, rhythmic thumping beneath your ear is better. Just slightly.
You cuddle until you fall asleep, with the album on loop and your cheek smushed against her chest. Once your breathing has evened out, Natasha grabs her phone and researches Billie until she ends up in a confusing rabbit hole she definitely will bring up at some point.
Summary: After teasing Natasha during a mission with moans over comms and bratty defiance, Y/N pushes things too far once they’re back at the Tower
Word count: 1.2k
⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗
The comm cracked softly in Y/N’s ear as she crouched behind the stone balcony on the west side of the compound, eyes trained on the second floor. The perimeter lights glowed dim, and aside from a soft dripping of water, the mission was dead quiet.
Too quiet.
She pressed two fingers to her earpiece and purred, low and breathy, “West side’s clear. Gonna move in… mm tight fit through this window.”
A pause.
Then Natasha’s voice in her ear, sharp. “Cut it out, Y/N.”
Y/N bit back a grin.
“Oh? Am I distracting you, Agent Romanoff?”
There was silence on the other end. No static. No breath.
Y/N crawled forward through the open window, slipping easily into the hallway. Her gear clung to her body, black and fitted, her chest slightly heaving from the quiet adrenaline of the break-in. She knew Natasha was posted two floors up, watching the heat signature. She also knew Natasha could hear everything she said.
She whispered again, louder this time, “God, it’s hot in here. I need to get out of these clothes.”
She heard it.
That one second delay.
The breath Natasha took before responding. The calm snap beneath it.
“Y/N.”
“Yes, baby?” She replied sweetly.
“You better watch yourself.”
Y/N turned a corner and caught a glimpse of Natasha a second later—standing by the stairwell exit, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes like fire. Their eyes met for only a second before Y/N brushed past her, chest grazing Natasha’s shoulder on purpose.
“Why should I?” She whispered, close enough to feel her breath.
Natasha’s voice dropped lower, a growl nearly under her breath. “Because you’ll regret it.”
Y/N leaned closer, lips nearly grazing her ear.
“Promise?”
Natasha didn’t respond.
But her eyes followed Y/N’s ass all the way down the hall.
⧗ ⧗
The hallway was quiet as Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, her skin dewy from the shower, hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. The towel wrapped around her was barely long enough to reach mid-thigh, and the knot at her chest was loose, practically begging to fall apart.
She padded softly down the hall toward the kitchen, still warm from the water, the air cool against her thighs. The entire tower floor was still and dim—except for the soft sound of water pouring.
Natasha stood by the kitchen island, leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand, sweatpants slung low on her hips, hair slightly tousled from running her hands through it too many times. Her eyes flicked up the second Y/N walked in.
Y/N didn’t say anything. She just walked straight to the fridge—slow, innocent—and opened it. The cool air hit her bare thighs and she shivered slightly, smiling to herself.
Then, without a glance behind her, she bent down.
Deep.
Slow enough for the towel to lift with her movement.
Just enough to show the bare curve of her ass—and more.
Much more.
There was a sharp clink behind her—glass meeting countertop. But Natasha didn’t speak.
Y/N stayed down just a little longer than necessary, then slowly stood upright, still facing the fridge. She reached for the fridge door and began to close it.
Until Natasha’s body hit hers from behind, pushing her forward, slamming her softly but firmly against the cold metal.
One hand flattened on the fridge beside her head. The other gripped her hip hard.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Natasha's voice came, low and dangerous against Y/N’s ears.
Y/N smirked, lips parting slightly, eyes half-lidded from the chill and heat colliding in her body.
“Just getting a drink.” She whispered.
Natasha pressed her hips against her ass. “You’ve been pushing me since the mission.”
A pause.
“You really want me to lose control, baby?”
Y/N’s breath hitched.
Then she tilted her head, just enough for her cheek to brush Natasha’s.
“I think you already have.”
Natasha’s hand slid down her side, palm flattening over the towel's loose knot.
“Careful.” She murmured darkly. “You’re not gonna like what happens when I stop holding back.”
Y/N turned her head slightly, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“I will.”
⧗ ⧗
Y/N barely had time to breathe.
Natasha hands fisted the towel and yanked, hard, ripping the soft fabric loose in a single pull. It fell to the floor like it didn’t matter. Like it never mattered. And now Y/N stood naked in front of the fridge, her body flushed and dripping, her nipples tight from the cold metal against her chest.
Behind her, Natasha’s breath hitched.
Then her hand slammed between Y/N’s thighs.
“You want my attention so bad?” She growled into her ear. “You’ve fucking got it.”
Two fingers shoved inside her without warning—deep and rough, the sound of it slick and filthy. Y/N cried out, hands bracing against the fridge as her knees buckled from the force.
“Fuck, Natasha.”
“You don’t get to say my name like that.” Natasha said. “Not after what you pulled. You think I didn’t hear those little moans through comms? You think I didn’t notice how you rubbed up against me in that hallway like a whore?”
Her fingers slammed into her again, merciless, curling just right to make Y/N see stars.
“You’ve been begging for this since we left that damn compound.”
Natasha free hand wrapped tightly around her throat, pulling her up from the fridge and forcing her back against her chest. Y/N gasped, her back arching, her tits bouncing with every punishing thrust.
“Look at you.” Natasha growled into her ear. “So fucking wet I can hear it every time I fuck into you. Dripping down your thighs. What would the others think if they saw you like this? Bent over, choked out, pussy wide open and begging for it.
Y/N moaned something incoherent, head lolling back against Natasha’s shoulder. Her walls clenched tighter, breath catching.
“I know you’re close.” Natasha whispered, voice pure venom. “Go ahead. Cum for me. Make a fucking mess.”
Her fingers curled harder. Pressed deeper.
Y/N came with a sharp cry, body locking up as her orgasm tore through her. Her thighs trembled violently, slick pouring over Natasha’s hand and down her legs. Her chest heaved, mouth slack, vision blurring.
But Natasha didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow down.
She fucked her through it, harder, relentless, her grip tightening at her throat again just as Y/N’s body started to twitch from the overstimulation.
“Too much?” Natasha mocked against her neck. “What, now it’s too much? You weren’t saying that when you were bending over for me in that towel like a desperate little slut.”
Y/N gasped, body writhing, moaning and whining from the intensity. Her second orgasm was already building—impossibly fast, raw and loud and out of her control.
“I’m not stopping.” Natasha hissed. “Not until you cum again. Not until you cry. You asked for this, baby.”
Her fingers were drenched now slamming into Y/N with vicious purpose, the heel of her palm grinding against her clit as her body shook with another climax.
Y/N screamed, loud and guttural, completely overwhelmed, cumming again with a sob. Her legs gave out enough, but Natasha held her up by her throat and between her thighs, owning every inch of her.
And still, she didn’t let go.
She leaned in, lips against her temple.
“Don’t tease me like that, baby.” She whispered. “Unless you want me to ruin you like this every fucking time.”
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
2087
