Summary: you get a tattoo when your girlfriend told you not to
Warnings: mention of Natasha’s past
W.C: 2.3K
A.N: just a fluffy one today guys
The Avengers Tower was quiet in the late evening. The city lights stretched endlessly beyond the windows, casting a soft glow across the room.
Natasha was slumped against the couch, one arm draped lazily along the back as something she had already declared stupid played on the TV.
You were tucked into her side, half under a blanket she insisted she didn’t need but had pulled over both of you anyway.
Her arm rested around your shoulders, fingers idly tracing slow, absent-minded patterns against your arm. It was the kind of touch she only allowed when it was just the two of you—soft, unguarded, like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
You were only half-watching.
The thought had been sitting in your head all day, turning over and over until it felt impossible to ignore.
“…Hey, Nat?”
She didn’t look away from the screen, but her fingers paused slightly against your skin. “Mm?”
You shifted a little closer into her, your head brushing her shoulder. “What do you think about tattoos?”
That got her attention.
Her eyes flicked to you instantly, sharp and assessing in that way that always made it feel like she already knew where this was going.
“No.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “I didn’t even say I wanted one.”
“You didn’t have to.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, nudging her lightly with your shoulder. “Wow. Harsh.”
She didn’t smile—at least not fully—but her arm tightened around you just a little, pulling you closer without thinking.
“Okay, but hypothetically—” you started.
“I don’t deal in hypotheticals,” she cut in, reaching for the remote to lower the volume. Now she was fully focused on you, her thumb brushing absent circles against your arm again. “Why are you asking?”
You shrugged, trying to sound casual even as your fingers played with the edge of the blanket. “I just think they’re… kind of nice. Some of them. Small ones, I mean.”
After a moment, you added, “I guess I like the idea of marking something that matters. Just for me.”
Her expression didn’t soften.
“If you want my opinion,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “I don’t like them.”
You frowned slightly, tilting your head up to look at her. “At all?”
“No.”
There was no hesitation in it. No wiggle room.
“Why?” you asked, quieter now.
Natasha leaned back into the couch, but she didn’t let go of you. If anything, she pulled you a fraction closer, her chin briefly resting against the top of your head before she spoke.
“Because I’ve had enough done to my body without my permission,” she said.
For a moment, her expression flickered—distant, like she was somewhere else entirely.
“There was a time when scars and marks just showed up, and I couldn’t stop them. It never mattered what I wanted.” Her voice stayed steady but softer now. “So now, even if it’s a choice… adding something else just feels like letting them win all over again.”
Her fingers stilled against your arm.
“I don’t see the appeal in choosing more of it.”
That landed heavier than you expected.
You shifted slightly, your hand finding hers where it rested against you, lacing your fingers together.
“I wouldn’t be forced,” you said gently. “It’d be my choice.”
“I know,” she replied quietly. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
There it was again—clear, unwavering.
You nodded a little against her shoulder. “Right.”
The TV kept playing in the background, filling the silence she didn’t seem bothered by.
You were.
After a moment, Natasha glanced down at you, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“You’re thinking about getting one.”
It wasn’t a question.
You hesitated just long enough to confirm it.
“…Maybe.”
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
You let out a small breath, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “You don’t recommend a lot of things I do.”
“That’s different.”
You tilted your head, looking up at her again. “Is it?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she shifted just enough to press a quiet kiss to your hair, like it was instinct more than intention.
Her hand squeezed yours gently.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” she said finally. “But you asked what I think.”
You squeezed her hand back, settling closer into her side, your cheek resting against her shoulder again.
“Yeah,” you murmured softly. “I know.”
Natasha stayed quiet for a while after that.
Not the uncomfortable kind of silence — just the kind that happened when she was thinking too hard to speak immediately.
Her hand was still holding yours. Still warm. Still there.
The TV droned on in the background, completely forgotten now.
Finally, she exhaled through her nose, like she was letting something go rather than holding it in.
“You don’t listen very well,” she said, but there was no bite to it.
You smiled faintly against her shoulder. “I’ve been told.”
Her fingers tightened around yours once, a quiet squeeze.
“I know you’re going to do what you want,” she added after a moment.
“That’s kind of the point of ‘want,’” you murmured.
That earned you the smallest huff of a laugh.
Natasha shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket around both of you like it had suddenly become very important to get it right.
Her arm stayed around you, but now she pulled you in a little closer—until there was no space left between you except warmth.
“I don’t like the idea,” she said again, softer this time. “But I don’t like the idea of you hiding things from me more.”
That made you go still.
You tilted your head up slightly to look at her.
“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” you said honestly. “I just… didn’t want to turn it into a fight.”
Her eyes flicked to yours.
“You think everything with me turns into a fight?”
“No,” you said quickly, then softened. “I think you care a lot.”
That made something in her expression shift—something subtle, but real.
Natasha leaned her head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling for a second like she was choosing her words carefully.
“I do care,” she admitted. “Probably too much, according to most people.”
You nudged her knee lightly with yours under the blanket. “I don’t think it’s ‘too much.’”
That got her attention again.
She looked back down at you.
“You don’t?”
You shook your head. “I think it’s just… you.”
A pause.
Then, quieter:
“I like ‘you.’”
That earned you a look that softened in a way she didn’t try to hide this time.
Her thumb brushed over your hand again, slower now.
“…Even when I’m being difficult?”
You smiled. “Especially then.”
Natasha stared at you for a long moment like she was memorizing the answer.
Then she sighed—lightly, almost fondly—and tugged you even closer until your head was fully resting against her again.
“You’re still not getting a tattoo,” she muttered.
You laughed under your breath. “Noted.”
-///-
You didn’t mean for it to become a secret.
At least, not at first.
But once you’d done it—once the small, permanent mark had been placed on your skin—it suddenly felt too fragile to talk about.
Like saying it out loud would change it.
Or change her.
So you didn’t.
And instead, you started avoiding her.
Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But Natasha noticed.
Of course she did.
Natasha Romanoff picked up on the shift within a day.
It started small—your hesitation when she reached for you.
The way you always seemed to turn slightly away before she could fully pull you in.
The way you stopped lingering.
Then it became more obvious.
You stopped initiating closeness altogether.
And you definitely avoided anything that might lead further than that.
Natasha didn’t push at first.
She just watched.
Until one night, as she sat beside you on the couch, she finally spoke.
“You’re avoiding me.”
You didn’t look up from your hands. “I’m not.”
A pause.
Then, quieter—but sharper:
“Yes, you are.”
Silence stretched.
Her arm, usually around you, stayed resting on the back of the couch instead of pulling you in.
That alone made your chest tighten.
“Did I do something?” she asked.
That hit harder than you expected.
You shook your head immediately. “No—Nat, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what is it?”
You hesitated.
Because there was no good answer that didn’t make you feel like you were about to disappoint her.
“I just…” Your voice dropped. “I need to tell you something.”
Her gaze softened slightly but stayed steady. “Okay.”
Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.
“I got the tattoo.”
The words landed between you.
Natasha didn’t respond right away.
Not anger. Not frustration.
Just stillness.
“…When?” she asked finally.
“A few days ago.”
Another pause.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t mean to hide it,” you said quickly. “I just—every time I thought about telling you, I got nervous, and then it just got worse and I—”
“Show me.”
The interruption was calm.
Not demanding.
Just certain.
You looked up at her, searching her face.
She wasn’t upset.
Just… focused.
So slowly, you stood.
Your hands trembled a little as you pulled your pants down to your hips.
She raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms.
You gave her a shy smile before pulling down the side of your panties to reveal the small tattoo—subtle, clean, and carefully placed.
A single initial.
You had chosen Natasha's because it meant more than any symbol or date could.
To you, her initial was a promise: a quiet way of carrying her presence with you, a mark for the moments she'd held you together after everything else felt uncertain.
It was hope, memory, and belonging all at once—something indelible meant just for you.
Her initial.
Natasha didn’t speak.
For a long moment, she just looked.
Completely still.
Like her brain had gone quiet.
Then she stepped closer.
Careful.
Almost like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to touch it.
Her fingers hovered first—barely there—before finally brushing over it.
You flinched slightly, a small hiss escaping before you could stop it.
“Does it hurt?” she asked immediately, pulling back a fraction.
“...A little,” you murmur.
But instead of moving away, you caught her hand gently.
“Wait.”
You guided her closer again, slower this time. “It’s fine.”
Her eyes flicked up to yours, checking.
You nodded.
So she touched it again.
More carefully this time.
Her expression changed.
Not sudden.
Not loud.
Just… softer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked quietly.
You swallowed. “Because it’s yours.”
That made her freeze again.
“You did this… for me?”
You gave a small, nervous shrug. “It felt right.”
For a second, she didn’t move.
Then she exhaled slowly, her shoulders rising and falling as if releasing a burden she had carried for longer than she cared to admit.
For a moment, Natasha felt caught between instinct and something softer. Her mind ran through all the old warnings, the walls she built to keep pain at bay, the history written into every scar and choice she was never allowed.
The idea of someone willingly marking themselves, especially for her, pulled up memories she usually kept locked down.
Disbelief flickered in her eyes, quickly chased by something gentle, almost vulnerable: a private relief that softened the set of her mouth and eased the tension she held.
The intimacy of what you'd done for her overwhelmed her in a way that was as comforting as it was frightening.
It was a quiet, complicated feeling—something like disbelief and something like warmth mingling, as if acceptance could be as healing as scars could be defining.
“You are going to be the death of me,” she muttered.
That made you laugh weakly. “That bad?”
Natasha finally looked at you properly again.
And there it was—that shift.
The seriousness is melting just slightly at the edges.
“…No,” she said softly. “Not bad.”
Her hand slid from the tattoo to your waist, pulling you gently closer until there wasn’t any space left between you.
“You just don’t think things through.”
“I thought this through,” you argued quietly.
Her mouth twitched.
“That makes it worse.”
You smiled, tension easing out of your shoulders completely now.
“Are you mad?”
Natasha paused.
Then shook her head once.
“No.”
A beat.
“…Surprised.”
Her eyes dropped back to the tattoo again, and this time there was something unmistakably fond in her expression.
“And?” you prompted softly.
“And I think,” she said slowly, “that you are very lucky I like you.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s dangerous,” she corrected—but there was no real edge to it.
Only warmth.
She traced the tattoo again, gentler now, like she’d memorized its meaning.
“It’s… very you.”
You tilted your head. “You don’t hate it?”
Natasha looked up at you.
And this time, she didn’t hesitate at all.
“No,” she said simply. “I don’t.”
A pause.
“I think it’s… kind of hot.”
Your eyes widened instantly. “Nat—”
“I’m not elaborating,” she cut in immediately, but there was the faintest smirk forming.
You laughed, completely relieved now, leaning into her.
Natasha pulled you in properly this time, wrapping her arms around you like she’d decided the conversation was over, and you belonged there.
And when she kissed your temple, it lingered just a second longer than usual.
“Next time,” she murmured against your hair, “you tell me first.”
You smiled into her shoulder.
“Deal.”
And this time, when the TV played quietly in the background, neither of you cared about it at all.
Can someone please drop a link or tell me where can i find the "Yes, Professor" fic. I'm not sure if its Natasha x reader or it was Scarlett. But please, I need to read a Scarlett/Natasha x reader fic. Need suggestions.
I took my masterlist down and I want it back. I'm reblogging my shits so i could create a new masterlist. Does any of you knows how to track all of my works without scrolling through my profile? I ain't a tech nerd so sorry, everyone😭
I took my masterlist down and I want it back. I'm reblogging my shits so i could create a new masterlist. Does any of you knows how to track all of my works without scrolling through my profile? I ain't a tech nerd so sorry, everyone😭
It's game night for the avengers. All of them are currently in the living room playing fun games, truth or dare, and more. Now Tony decided to Hype up the game with some money involve.
Tony: whoever guesses the right answer will get a hundred dollars per question.
Everyone cheered up.
Tony: Ok let's start! All day long it’s in and out. I discharge loads from my shaft. Both men and women go down on me. What am I?
Y/N: OH IT'S A DICK! IT'S A DICK!
Natasha: Jesus, Y/N slow down.
Tony: Wrong!
Y/N: Oh come on, it's obviously a dick. I witnessed that from Nata-
Forcing myself into someone who's clearly not giving shit about me is not my thing. I don't give so much attention in building relationships.......You know what, I avoid it as much as I can. Things like this could lead into nothing but scar.
Well, that change until I met Natasha, or It could possibly be.
-
We met at one of our mutual friend's party. She flirted with me the entire night. Didn't stopped even though I told her to. The party ended with disappointment plastered on Natasha's face. Her flirting tactics didn't worked out on me.
I suppose that was our last meeting after that night but I guess I'm wrong.
And that's where I learned that one thing about the Black Widow is that, she is not a quitter.
She found a way to get in touch with you..............Tony.
The fact that I was so afraid of letting Natasha into my life, thinking that she would hurt me was absurd, knowing that I was the one who hurt her. I could've supported her more, gave her time but I didn't. I'm left with nothing now, and I will forever regret this.
Waking up is the worst thing to do to start a day. What's more worst is waking up with an intense hangover.
I slowly shifted to the other side bed to check my phone. It's already past 12 noon. I groaned to myself still debating whether to get up or stay in bed until I have the energy to stand up.
The doorbell suddenly rang. I stood up groaning ready to scold the person behind those doors for giving me a rough start with my day. I opened the door, and there she is. Standing with a huge grin in her face. The one and only annoying flirt in the party last night. Natasha Romanoff.
"Hi! I brought you coffee."
And it all started with that.
Her simple gestures and her courage to show interest in me pulls my practicality out slowly. I can tell through her eyes that she's genuine.
-
It took so long for us to get along. Well, I'm just making it hard for her. Until we become close, friends perhaps but with the flirt and kind gestures of Natasha, of course.
"I don't know, Nat. How do I know that you're not going to do what others did to me before."
"I value you, Y/N. I'm not like them. I can't promise you that I won't hurt you because somehow that will happen, eventually in every relationship but I promise you, I won't hurt you in a way like they hurt you." she paused to lift my face up for me to meet her forest green eyes.
"I've been with you for 2 years now, Y/N. You know me better."
She's right. I knew her better. She's different. She's peculiar. I trust Natasha with my life, and now I'm starting to think that I should trust her with my heart.
Should I give her a chance?
I don't want to risk but she deserves to have this.
-
Me and Natasha have been together for 4 years and 6 months now. I can tell that she's the most faithful person I know. Unlike my pervious relationship, they tend to cheat when they got bored. But Natasha, Natasha always brings the spark back. Always reassures me that there's no one compared to me. She kept her promise, and I'm happy about that.
Things changed when the avengers went on different ways.
She stopped avenging. Always focusing about the ways on how to bring back her team. Unfortunately, she got nothing but rejection by her former teammates. That didn't stopped her tho.
In the past couple months, I let her do her thing. It's important to her. It's her family. But as things go further, she is getting thinner and thinner. She refuses to eat, and barely get out of her office. She didn't even tried to find a job to pay our bills. My money isn't enough to pay rent, groceries, bills, and other expenses in this household. I need her help. We bought this place together.
As I was approaching her office to confront her, I heard the thunder growled and the rain starts to pour.
"Hey, can we talk?" I asked her gently, trying not to escalate things between us.
"Sure" she put up a small smile. "Come here" she patted the couch signaling me to sit beside her.
"What's up?"
"Nat, you need to get back to your feet." I seriously stated staring right into her green eys. She stayed silent, looking at her feet, fidgeting with her fingers.
"Natasha, look, we need to pay the bills. I can't pay it alone. You know my job doesn't pay much."
"I will find a job, first thing in the morning. I'm going to bed." she simply stated.
"That's what you always say, Natasha! Everytime we talk, you always shut me out." I didn't realise that my voice is staring to get louder.
"What do you want me to do!? Attacking bad people without my team so we could get a big pay check? That's suicide, Y/N!" she said standing up avoiding eye contact.
"That's not what I'm saying. You could get another job, Nat. You could do other than avenging. You're smart."
" I don't want anything but being and Avenger, Y/N. Don't force me to I job I do not want"
" Then how are we going pay everything!? I'M TIRED, NATASHA. I WORK TWO JOBS TO GET US IN THE LINE BUT IT STILL WASN'T ENOUGH. AT LEAST HELP ME."
" I didn't force nor asked you to do this for us! Save yourself, I'm will be fine."
I frown at her answer.
"God your being irrational." I yelled.
She walked out on her office trying to avoid the argument but I followed her.
" Stop avoiding this conversation like you always do." I chase after her but she still hasn't stopped from her tracks.
" Natasha! Damn it! I'm so fucking tired of you I wish I never met you."
And that stopped Natasha from her tracks. She slowly faced me, walking towards me with a sad smile.
" You really mean that, Y/N?" she asked softy and it broke me.
Of course not, I didn't mean that. I overreacted. I probably just did that to get her attention. It was bad. It was really bad. She is the best thing that happen to me. I was shocked about why I said those things.
I was contemplating and I forgot about her question. I stayed shocked, staring at candle, her favorite candle in the table.
A thunder brought me back to reality.
I tried to face her but I was faced with nothing. I started to panick, already sobbing from the thought of her being gone. I have searched every corner of our place to find her but I saw no presence of her. I went out to the rain hoping I would she or catch her but no, no signal of Natasha.
"Nat? Nat, baby where are you?............... Nat? NAAAAT! FUUUUUCK, I didn't mean it baby. I'm sorry. NAT! please comeback please. I love you so much, Nat PLEASEE!" I ran everywhere trying to find her while crying.
I went home. I went home without Natasha. I couldn't forgive myself for losing and hurting her like that.
3 months ago, I was a splintered glass that was about to be swept and thrown away in the trash. After 8 years of a relationship, my girlfriend... well, my ex girlfriend cheated on me.
It was an excruciating experience.
-
I am at the bar right now, at 3 in the afternoon, drowning myself with different kinds of alcohol, I know, not the best time to drink but who cares. I just want to shut the world out and live with my own inclination.
The door opened and a blond girl entered. She's staggering with her shoulder level blond hair. Her face brings up an irky emotion but she's beautiful anyways. She went beside me to order her drink looking so pissed. I wonder what brings her into a bar at 3 in the afternoon.
"I'll have the Death in the afternoon please" her voice is raspy yet I'm craving to hear it again.
"intense choice" I mumbled, looking at her offering her a small smile. "you'll regret it in the morning"
"I know. I just want to get away with my shits for at least a day or so." she replied. Still sounding annoyed. I just nod and stayed silent, taking the hint that she doesn't want to talk.
After her drink was served by the bartender, she let go a heavy sigh. "Sorry, I didn't meant to be rude." she face towards me and that's the first time I saw her smile.
I found out that she having a problem with her company, and her name was Scarlett. We exchanged words, laughing at our shits and of course, we ended up hooking up.
I thought our first hookup will be our last but perhaps I'm wrong. We call each other everytime we needed a good fuck and that continues until now. It made differences though. We're like a couple right now but without the label. I'd lie if I say we have a perfect relationship cause trust me, it's messy to be in this situation.
She's great. Very fragile yet here I am doing things I shouldn't do to hurt her.
" Y/N, it's been 2 years. What are we?" she asked while fidgeting with her fingers in agitation.
I don't know what to say. Instead, I cupped her face and smiled at her. I kissed her lips passionately and she didn't hesitate to reciprocate.
I caress Scarlett's curves slowly getting down towards her ass while my lips are busy nipping her neck, putting marks, my marks on it. God she's a moaning mess.
"Don't tease" she asked struggling to hold her moans.
For the first time, I want to just give her everything she want right now. So, I quickly helped her remove all of her clothes, pushed her right into the bed to give her what she wanted.
Before I do the deed, I stare straight into her eyes, seeing a genuine feelings mixed with lust. I gave her another passionate and soft kiss on the lips. " I wanna make love with you, Scarlett."
I removed all of my clothing and went straight to the bedside table to grab her favorite toy. I attached the harness securely to make sure no interruption will occur.
I went back to bed, positioning myself in between her legs. She's so brittle, and my heart aches thinking about her, falling into pieces after what I am about to do.
I slowly penetrated her, letting her adjust to the strap. "Slower, baby. Slower." she asked gently cupping my face. I kissed her forehead, giving her a distraction from pain. "We'll go at your pace."
After a few minutes, pain adds pleasure until pleasure dominated her system. "You can move now"
I stared to ram the strap right into her in a regular pace, feeling the pain and love lingering in the room. I hugged her, kissing her lips, so as her neck and whispering sweet nothing.
"Fuck! I love you, Y/N" she loudly moaned from the pleasure. I suddenly stopped moving, shocked by those three words. I love you too, but I can't seem to let those words out from my mouth.
"What's wrong?" she anxiously asked. I was so lost at my thoughts. "Y/N, what's wrong" "Hmmm? Nothing....Nothing's wrong, Scar." I kissed her forehead once again.
The night ended up with multiple orgasms. I'm here laying in the bed, with her, sleeping soundly, wrapped around my arms.
I can't help but notice her perfect lips and I can't fight the urge to kiss it. I did, and she stirred awake.
"I'm sorry, go back to sleep." she hummed in response. After a minute of silence she mumbled something into my ears. "Will you marry me someday?" My heart shattered more on her question. It took me a minute to answer " Yes, I will, baby. I will ask you to marry me someday." I lied. "Promise?" her hopeful voice is killing me slowly. "I promise."
It's so absurd of me to do things that my past did to me thinking it would made me feel less hurt. It seems I was wrong. It's very difficult to cope up with the feeling I'm feeling right now. The guilt, the pain, it's destructive.
That was the last time I saw her. I left. I let her go for her own good. I'm the fucked up. She didn't knew I was sleeping with another person besides her. I treated her like shit and I have to stop it by letting her untethered from me.
I watched her that morning, waking up with nothing beside her. Reading the letter I left her saying my goodbye. I saw her on the floor, crying the shit out of her because of me. I will never forgive myself for hurting such a beautiful soul. I watched her, and I did nothing to comfort her.
-
A year later and I was still thinking about Scarlett. I ended up isolating myself from people. I knew I loved her. I know I still love her.
I went out to grab the letters from the mail box outside. I opened one letter from my friend, inviting me to his wedding.
"It's time to go out and get back to your feet again" I thought to myself.
I'm currently at my friend's wedding party right now, with a black suit that hugs my body. I went to the bar to grab some drinks and I suddenly saw Scarlett from a distance.
God, she's breathtakingly beautiful. I was about to approach her but I stopped when I realised a slow music played, signaling people to slow dance with their partner. I was about to continue walking towards her but I saw her kissing a man. I stopped from my tracks to watch her.
She was hugging the man while dancing.....it should've been me, but I fucked up, so I can't do that, can I?
She seemed genuinely happy. How I wish that was me she was holding. I smiled to myself watching another person holding her. "I can't destroy her again" I mumbled. Scarlett saw me in the corner. She was shocked. A single tear came down from my eyes still locked with hers. I gave her a tight lip smile and whispered "I love you". I turn my back on her, walking away, and never turning back.
Some people always ask me out, thinking I might be single. Ending with me, embarrassed by declining their offer, politely of course.
The reason behind those refusal is that I'm married. Yes, at the age of 25, I'm already married. I love my wife and I would never, ever, try to hurt her in any way.
Our relationship is strong. Even though a staggering amount of people abhorred our relationship mainly because I'm from a scarp and she's she, and probably they hated the age gap. My wife is the one and only Scarlett Johansson. Yes, I manage to pull her into falling for me.
We've been in a 2 years relationship, and got married for 3 years and counting. When it comes with our status, it is very disparate in nature. She is an A list, most respected, highest paid, and the most beautiful woman in the whole industry. While me, I'm just a coffee shop owner and that's where we met, well it's my parents so technically I own nothing.
Today, I'm currently at our house, bored. I've done the cleaning, the cooking, and now I'm just watching a boring tv show.
Scarlett's been very busy lately. She got jumpy and she have this snappy behavior that I don't know where it came from. Anyways, I just shrug those off thinking she was just stressed from her bulk of works but earlier, I saw a text message from her phone from a guy named Thatcher, saying " I'll meet you at the hotel. Room 108. :*" I tried to ask her about it but then again, she just ignore my question, annoyed. She left me wonder about who might that be and what could they possibly doing in a hotel.
Perhaps gaslighting myself that Scarlett is just in a work meeting with that Thatcher, is helping, or I thought so, until the idea of her cheating crossed my mind.
She won't cheat on me, right? She promised me that. I took all of her fans hatred towards me. All the insults, and threat. I was disowned by my own parents cause of marrying a woman, a 15 years older than me for christ sake. If she cheated, I'm left with no one.
I get up and took a shower before changing into some sweats, a black hoodie, with a cap and the sunglasses. I know this is very insensitive but I'm compulsive, I will try and see what she's upto.
Currently, I'm here at the hotel lounge, double checking if this is the right hotel. Thankfully, Scarlett hasn't turned off her location and I used it to track her phone. It seems like I'm really at the right hotel so I went to the front desk.
"Hi, I'm looking for my wife's room. I'm going to surprise her." I asked the lady behind the counter nicely since I need to convince her to give me the keys.
"Oh, ummmm, Scarlett, Scarlett Johansson's my wife." I added while holding up a picture of me and Scar at our wedding. She hesitated at first but ended up giving me the keys anyways.
Well, I'm not totally lying about surprising Scar. I still bought a cake as an excuse if I saw nothing. I know, smart right? The things I do with paranoia.
Right now, I'm outside of the said room, debating if I should do this or not. After a moment of standing there, looking like a creep, I opened the door slowly, not trying to get any attention, just incase.
The room have this huge wall that divides the mini living room and the bed room.
As I was approaching the room, I heard noises. Upon hearing that, I want to cry right away. I want to run away but my feet brought me towards the noice. I crept behind the wall to see what they're doing and I fucking knew it!
Tears were already streaming down my face as I saw SCARLETT! having a pure bliss while hugging and riding this guy that I assume to be Thatcher.
I can feel the pressure building in my chest. It feels like my heart is pumping out so much blood that it makes my body go in there and beat the shit out of this guy. It hurts. It hurts so much. I don't want to feel this shit. I wanna sleep. I want to sleep until the pain is no more.
Instead of showing up, I remain hidden. Knowing if I escalate things, Scarlett will leave me and I will be left with nothing.
I slowly went out, gasping for air since panic attacks commonly occurs to me these days. Scarlett didn't knew about it. I drove home, took a shower, a cold shower hoping it would numb the pain but it didn't.
I have cried the shit out. I ran out of tears, I hope. I went out and change some comfortable clothes. As I was going downstairs to grab a water, I hear the front door open.
I still continue to walk towards the kitchen without recognising Scarlett's arrival.
"Hey!" She simply stated. It's the first time this month she greeted me first. I just gave her a small smile and a nod without looking at her face.
God, I wanna cry again.
I grab the water, and knowing she likes to have an apple juice when she got home, I brought her a glass of juice in the living room. I was about to go back upstairs when she cut me.
"No kisses for me, my love?" she teases. Probably noticing the lack of affection from me. She's used to have a baby like treatment from me though.
I just gave her a simple kiss on the cheeks and went right away to go to our room.
Days, weeks, a month came by and I still kept my distance. Slowly getting myself out of being used to have her. I still gave her, her favorite food that only I can cook, and her back massages after work, that only I, again can do.
Scarlett, on the other hand, notices the sudden change of my demanor. She spends most of her days at home bugging me into going out, or giving her a cuddle while watching a movie. Sometimes, I gave her what she wanted, but most if the time, I just reject her offer, telling her I'm busy.
-
It's currently 9pm and we're already in bed. I'm using my phone while she is just weirdly staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, she gets up and straddle my waist, kissing my neck slowly.
"Scarlett, I'm not in the mood." I tried to push her off but she's stronger than me. "You're never "not on the mood", Y/N" she continued kissing my neck until she reached my lips.
I missed kissing her lips. It's intoxicating. She kissing me passionately. I can feel the love. I still feel it. Maybe there's a chance of fixing this marriage.
I let her use me. Pounding me with her strap until she reached her climax. I never had mine since my mind was plastered with her, fucking another man. A tear went down to my face after she tells me "I love you, Y/N" and settled herself beside me, with her head on my shoulder.
All of my tears fell down uncontrollably after I make sure she's already sleeping. The pain is still there even though she's here in my arms, safe and sound.
I placed my lips on her forehead. "I love you so much that I cannot manage to do things that will destroy this marriage, even though you've already ruined it." I whispered. " I wish I haven't gone to see you that day. I wish I could just pretend that we were perfect." I paused for a moment, trying to catch my breath from sobbing. I looked at her sleeping figure and it makes me pull her more closer to me.
"It's ok. I will stay silent as long as I'm the one holding you at night. The one you come home to everyday. I don't care if you'll cheat on me again, but please, don't leave me. My heart could not handle that kind of pain."
I did nothing but cry that night, holding her tight in my arms, making sure she'll never leave me. Pulling her closer, checking her time after time, until I fell asleep in melancholy.
Scarlett POV
I heard everything she said. I felt so guilty, and I will do everything to make this right.
A/N: This is not proofread. Drop some comments about my writing. I'll gladly read it:)
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