scarlet johannson did not spend an entire decade fighting tooth and nail to make natasha into an actual character instead of the sex object writers wanted her to be while also having to endure the most vile, misogynistic questions during press tours for people to now disrespect her legacy because yelena is 'better'. the only reason why that is, is because of everything scarlet went through. natasha singlehandedly paved the way for every other female superhero in the mcu and don't you forget that
summary: Ashe sees someone new at her favorite bar.
words: 689
author note: i was yearning for a ashe fic and couldn’t find any so i decided to write my own. if this does well maybe i could make it a series. im open to it. lmk if yall like it
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ashe walks into the bar she visits after every job or mission, ready to drink a little and possibly chat up a pretty girl to take home. She’s here often enough to take notice of the usual customers— and the customers that are… newer.
She sets herself up at the bar, tapping her fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface while ordering her drink, catching a glimpse of your figure striding in through the front door of the bar. You’re… different from the other customers, Ashe thinks.
You look over at her as you’re walking in and look away when u realize shes looking right back at you. Nervous, you sit at the bar to order
Ashe’s gaze lingers on you as you sit down at the bar, studying your figure for a moment. She smirks, noticing the way you quickly looked away from her.
She finishes her own drink, setting the glass down before waving over the bartender and signaling for another. She waits until you’re served your own drink before speaking.
“You’re new here, aren’t ya?”
You take a sip of your drink and look over
“i am, how’d ya know?” you ask back in a curious way
Ashe smiles as you confirm her suspicion, resting her chin on her hand and looking you up and down again. She notices your outfit, how you’re dressed more for a party or club rather than a bar.
“You don’t look like you belong here.” She states bluntly, still smirking as she looks you over, clearly finding something attractive about you.
You blush and look over your outfit then back up at Ashe.
“Oh my outfit…yeah i was supposed to go out with my friends but they all ditched me. I still wanted a drink, so here i am” you mutter as you motion around the room with your hand
She chuckles catching your blush, leaning a bit closer and resting her arm on the countertop, her gaze lingering on your pink face.
“Ahh, I see. Guess you’re all alone tonight, huh darling?” She says with a slight teasing tone, taking a sip of her drink while continuing to look you up and down. You can see the amused look in her eyes as she sizes you up.
You look her up and down and smirk finally feeling confident after having a few sips of your drink “yeah i might be alone, who’s asking?” you smile as you question.
Ashe’s smirk only widens as you look her up and down, noticing the way your eyes roam over her body. She leans a bit closer, her knee brushing against yours as she does so.
“Oh, ya’know… just some lady trying to chat up a pretty girl.” She responds with a flirtatious tone, her eyes flicking up and down your body as well. She’s definitely checking you out.
You smile at her and lean close to her ear as you whisper “Oh you’re gonna be trouble aren’t ya?”
Ashe’s breath hitches in her throat slightly as you lean in close to whisper in her ear, your proximity sending a shiver down her spine. She tries to keep her composure, a small smirk still on her face as she whispers back to you, her voice low and sultry.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m *definitely* gonna be trouble. But you’re not runnin away yet, are ya?”
You back away and smirk deviously “Not running from you hot stuff, but i have to go if i see you here again in one week ill give you my name and number” you quickly kiss her on the cheek and get up to leave
Ashe is surprised by your boldness, her smirk faltering for a moment as you call her “hot stuff” and kiss her cheek. She can feel her face heating up as you get up to leave, watching as you head towards the door.
She doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re gone, and she’s left at the bar with a lingering touch on her cheek and a pounding heart. She knows damn well she’ll be back in one week to see you again. Whoever you are.
summary: Ashe sees someone new at her favorite bar.
words: 689
author note: i was yearning for a ashe fic and couldn’t find any so i decided to write my own. if this does well maybe i could make it a series. im open to it. lmk if yall like it
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ashe walks into the bar she visits after every job or mission, ready to drink a little and possibly chat up a pretty girl to take home. She’s here often enough to take notice of the usual customers— and the customers that are… newer.
She sets herself up at the bar, tapping her fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface while ordering her drink, catching a glimpse of your figure striding in through the front door of the bar. You’re… different from the other customers, Ashe thinks.
You look over at her as you’re walking in and look away when u realize shes looking right back at you. Nervous, you sit at the bar to order
Ashe’s gaze lingers on you as you sit down at the bar, studying your figure for a moment. She smirks, noticing the way you quickly looked away from her.
She finishes her own drink, setting the glass down before waving over the bartender and signaling for another. She waits until you’re served your own drink before speaking.
“You’re new here, aren’t ya?”
You take a sip of your drink and look over
“i am, how’d ya know?” you ask back in a curious way
Ashe smiles as you confirm her suspicion, resting her chin on her hand and looking you up and down again. She notices your outfit, how you’re dressed more for a party or club rather than a bar.
“You don’t look like you belong here.” She states bluntly, still smirking as she looks you over, clearly finding something attractive about you.
You blush and look over your outfit then back up at Ashe.
“Oh my outfit…yeah i was supposed to go out with my friends but they all ditched me. I still wanted a drink, so here i am” you mutter as you motion around the room with your hand
She chuckles catching your blush, leaning a bit closer and resting her arm on the countertop, her gaze lingering on your pink face.
“Ahh, I see. Guess you’re all alone tonight, huh darling?” She says with a slight teasing tone, taking a sip of her drink while continuing to look you up and down. You can see the amused look in her eyes as she sizes you up.
You look her up and down and smirk finally feeling confident after having a few sips of your drink “yeah i might be alone, who’s asking?” you smile as you question.
Ashe’s smirk only widens as you look her up and down, noticing the way your eyes roam over her body. She leans a bit closer, her knee brushing against yours as she does so.
“Oh, ya’know… just some lady trying to chat up a pretty girl.” She responds with a flirtatious tone, her eyes flicking up and down your body as well. She’s definitely checking you out.
You smile at her and lean close to her ear as you whisper “Oh you’re gonna be trouble aren’t ya?”
Ashe’s breath hitches in her throat slightly as you lean in close to whisper in her ear, your proximity sending a shiver down her spine. She tries to keep her composure, a small smirk still on her face as she whispers back to you, her voice low and sultry.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m *definitely* gonna be trouble. But you’re not runnin away yet, are ya?”
You back away and smirk deviously “Not running from you hot stuff, but i have to go if i see you here again in one week ill give you my name and number” you quickly kiss her on the cheek and get up to leave
Ashe is surprised by your boldness, her smirk faltering for a moment as you call her “hot stuff” and kiss her cheek. She can feel her face heating up as you get up to leave, watching as you head towards the door.
She doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re gone, and she’s left at the bar with a lingering touch on her cheek and a pounding heart. She knows damn well she’ll be back in one week to see you again. Whoever you are.
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Summary: Wanda's boyfriend is the biggest asshole you've ever met. You think she'll choose you in the end.
Wanda Romanoff x F!R, eventual Natasha Romanoff x F!R
A/N: Don't be fooled by the summary, this is a Natasha Romanoff x R fic
Classes can be a drag. Especially the early mornings, where not even a cup of coffee can make you focus.
And then, there’s Wanda Maximoff, looking at the professor as she speaks, diligently taking notes while looking perfect, as usual.
She catches you staring and you have to look away, pretending that you weren’t just wondering how she manages to look effortlessly beautiful.
Class is dismissed and you take a minute to pack your things, preparing for the next session. You try not to roll your eyes as you find Wanda with her idiot boyfriend right at the door. As usual, they take up too much space, and you have to push one of them aside.
“Coming through, princess”
You don’t have to look back to know Wanda glares at you, annoyed at the nickname.
To be fair, the first time you used it you thought you were both involved in playful banter. Hell, you even meant it to be flirty, but she took great offense in it, which was the case with most things you did, whether they were aimed at her or not.
It was pretty clear she hated your guts. You just didn’t know why.
——
“I don’t know what her problem is” Wanda says, the music loudly booming across the house.
“What?” Jarvis says, leaning forward because he didn’t hear a word Wanda said. Partly due to the loud music and also because he’s looking at other girls, albeit discreetly.
“Y/N. She’s always being a total ass” the girl says, watching as you enter the house, avoiding her stare.
“She’s just jealous because you’re so pretty” he says and that’s enough to distract Wanda.
Across the room, you curse under your breath at the sight of the Maximoff girl. God, you hate her stupid boyfriend. Always runnig his mouth to his friends about Wanda, telling them private things… you’d overheard them at a bar once and it took every ounce of your being not to kill him right then and there.
Not to mention, the rumoured affairs that everyone knew about. Everyone, but Wanda, that is.
“You made it!” Carol greets you, and then follows your gaze. “Ugh, that guy’s the worst”
“Agree” you nod, turning to look at her. “Shots?”
“Hell, yeah” your friend says, taking you to the kitchen where Val is pouring some alcohol.
To your relief, you get to avoid Wanda for the entirety of the night, and as your friends arrive you quickly forget what had soured your mood in the first place.
Wanda, on the other hand, is not having such a great time. At some point while she was chatting with Pepper, she lost sight of Jarvis and can’t seem to find him anywhere. Knowing Stark could get crazy ideas, she worries that they might be doing something reckless so she goes around the house, looking for her boyfriend.
She’s expecting everything but seeing him with his pants around his ankles while a girl Wanda doesn’t even know gives him head.
“Wanda!” Jarvis shouts, startled.
“That’s not my name” the girl says, smiling playfully. “Or are we role playing?”
“I need to get out of here” Wanda says, closing the door.
Of course, he chases her down the hall, desperately sayig any excuse he can think of. Wanda tries to walk past him, but he blocks her from going downstairs.
“Don’t be so uptight about it” he loses his patience when Wanda refuses his apology. “Guys just need to do it more than girls, it meant nothing”
“You’re an ass” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Wanda, don’t leave” he warns, as she finally walks around him to go to the first floor. The shouting makes some people turn around, and it’s almost impossible to ignore the commotion.
You’re standing next to Val and Darcy, unable to look away as the oh so happy couple keeps shouting at each other.
“Guess he got caught red handed this time” Darcy mutters. She and Wanda were friends but had a fallout and you suspected it had to do with Jarvis and his side pieces.
“Let go of me” Wanda insists when he takes her arm, pulling her close to him.
“People are staring, shut your fucking mouth”
“You’re hurting me” she protests, trying to losen his grip.
Maybe it’s the way she says it, so defeated or even scared, but those words make you snap, and you walk up to them, pushing Jarvis away.
“Stay out of it” he warns.
“Make me”
You are expecting the first punch so you dodge it in time, but he manages to land another one on your mouth, and you feel the taste of blood.
“You’re gonna regret this” you say, launching yourself forward until you knock him over, landing on a coffee table that breaks. Grabbing him by the shirt, you land two punches and go for a third one when he kicks you, making you gasp for air.
“That’s enough” Thor steps in, his brother looking delighted at the chaos. “You better leave”
Jarvis glares at him, but truth be told, Thor doesn’t like him and he is your friend. He leaves the Odinson house, cursing under his breath.
“I’m fine” you tell your friends as they bring over ice to put on your cheek.
“Want us to take you home?” Carol offers.
“It’s good” you say, shaking your head. “I should go, take some painkillers”
“Call us if you need anything”
“Ok” you pat Darcy’s back, leaving the house where everyone’s partying like nothing even happened.
As you walk to your car, you spot Wanda, sitting on the sidewalk, wiping away the tears that roll down her cheeks.
“You ok?” you ask, standing next to her.
“He’s an idiot. No, I’m the idiot for being with him” she rambles.
There’s a very sarcastic comment at the tip of yout tongue but you save it.
“Did he drove you here?” Wanda nods and you jiggle the car keys. “Come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm”
“I don’t want to be alone” Wanda hugs her knees, and in spite of everything, your heart aches for her.
“Any friends that can take you in for the night?” she shakes her head no and you sigh. “Wanna stay at my place?”
“Are you sure it’s ok?”
“Yeah, come on” you say, walking to the car. You drive in silence, eager to get home and put some more ice on the punch.
Wanda gets out of the car and follows you to the dorm you share with Carol, who usually stays with Val most nights.
“Take the bed” you say, handing over some clean clothes so she can change.
Wanda looks at you, and you feel uncomfortable at the intensity of her gaze.
“I… thank you, Y/N”
“Sleep tight, princess” you say with a smile and for the first time she doesn’t look upset as you call her that.
——
The smell of bacon and butter wakes you up and you stretch, trying to remember why you’re in the couch.
When you see Wanda in your kitchen, everyhing that happened comes back and you groan, rubbing the sleep off your eyes.
“Ouch” you say when you rub close to the punch on your cheek.
“You’re up” Wanda says, smiling. It’s a strange sight, as she’s used to glaring at you or just ignoring your presence.
“You sleep ok?” you say, trying to hide your blush when you notice she’s still wearing the clothes you let her borrow.
“Yeah, thanks” she nods, pulling up two plates with pancakes. “I wanted to thank you for everythig you did last night”
“No need” you say, grabbing a fork and eating. Wanda’s just being nice and you honestly don’t want to force her to interact with you, so all you want is to finish your food and give her an out so she can leave.
“He’s been texting me” Wanda says, looking at her food but not eating anything. “Saying it was a mistake, a one time thing and that it would never happen again”
“And you believe him?” you try to control your tone.
“I’d heard the rumors… even from Darcy. You probably know already”
“We assumed that’s why you fought, but she told us it was none of our business. And I know this isn’t none of mine, but you deserve better”
Wanda giggles at that and you look at her, intrigued.
“I’m just… I thought you didn’t like me”
“Where’d you get that?”
“The nickname, your constant glares across the room…”
Oh, shit. Here you were thinking you were obvious about your crush, and Wanda thinks you hate her.
“I hate… Jarvis. I knew he was a dick so I always disliked him. Seeing him with you. Yeah”
“Do you like me?” Wanda asks and you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders.
The girl smiles, finishing her food. You stay in the kitchen, fidgeting with your fork until she comes back, changed into her own clothes.
“I should get back. Do you need anything? Painkillers, ice?” she leans forward, her hand touching your bruise gently. Then, you notice her eyes drifting to your lips.
“I’m fine” you say and she nods, stepping back.
“See you in class?”
“Yes” you say, smiling as she waves goodbye. Carol walks in ten seconds later, looking behind her.
“Was that…?”
“Yes”
“Did you…?”
“No” you cut her off. “She just didn’t want to be alone after what happened”
“Y/N…” Carol says in that tone you dislike so much. You’re about to get scolded over something that isn’t that big of a deal.
“Carol, come on. She slept in my room, I stayed on the couch. That’s it”
“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt” your friend says and you nod. “I mean, you got a split lip and a black eye already so maybe it’s a little late for that”
“Yeah, that’s true. Come on, there are some pancakes left”
——
You tell yourself it means nothing. Wanda sits next to you during class, and offers a second scone she got from the cafeteria.
“How’s the eye?”
“I’m not blind” you shrug your shoulders. “Jarvis hits like a little bitch”
Wanda snorts at that, and you can’t hold back your own laugh. That attracts the attention of Professor Harkness, who focuses on your eye.
“Do I even want to to know, Y/L/N?”
“Nah” you shake your head and she rolls her eyes.
“Alright”
With that, the lesson begins. You try hard to focus, but Wanda smells really nice and you’re only human. At one point, she shuffles in her seat, her leg coming in contact with yours and you give up on taking notes.
“You ok?” to your surprise, Wanda follows you out of the classroom. “I can let you borrow my notes, if you want”
“Wanda” you stop abruptly, sighing. “Listen, you don’t owe me anything. I helped because it was the right thing to do. So don’t worry about paying me back in any way”
“That’s not… ” she stutters, fixing her hair. “I don’t really have any friends. I was always with him”
“Oh” you feel like an idiot. “Well, ok. I could use those notes”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, come on. I’ll trade them for a coffee” you smile, walking next to her to the library.
—
It surprises you, how much you and Wanda have in common. She likes sitcoms and though you’re more of a Friends kind of girl, it’s fun to watch those old shows where they dance and sing from time to time.
“I only know Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins” you confess one time, which prompts Wanda to invite you to her dorm for a marathon.
“Where are you going?” Darcy says when you walk past her and Carol that evening.
“Oh, this is gonna be fun” Carol smiles and you glare at your friend.
“Well, Wanda and I…”
“Oh, my God! You traitor. Brutus!” Darcy shouts, throwing a napkin at you. “She’s the worst”
“I wouldn’t know. You didn’t tell me what happened”
“She got you there” Carol points out, eating popcorn while she enjoys the show.
“That is besides the point”
“Look, I’m not putting Wanda on my will or anything, we’re just hanging out. And if she mentions you, I’ll be the first one to defend you”
Darcy sighs, chewing on her lip.
“It’s not about me. Wanda has the habit of just… using people when she’s bored or on a break from that idiot. And then they get back together and forgets about you. Which sucks. I wouldn’t want it to be the case for you, that’s all”
“I’ll be careful” you promise.
Once at Wanda’s, you’re trying to enjoy the show, but Darcy’s words are echoing in your head. You had to admit that if you spent more time with Wanda, you’d probably develop an even bigger crush. And if she went back to that asshole, it would hurt you.
Was it really worth it?
“Is the show boring? We can watch something else. I know it’s weird that I like this” Wanda pauses mid episode.
“No, it’s just… Darcy said some things…”
“Oh. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to hang out anymore” she sighs, looking down at her hands.
“I’m just thinking… maybe it would be good if you fix things with her? Say sorry. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it”
“I can try, but you know her. She won’t make it easy” you both laugh at that. “Is that all?”
“Yeah” you lie. “Come on, let’s keep watching. I wanna know if Rob goes to Ritchie’s play”
Wanda smiles, this time moving closer to you. Her head rests on your shoulder, relaxing against you. It’s so intoxicating, to have her so close, to feel her warmth.
And all you can think over and over again is “please don’t break my heart”. But you can’t ask for the impossible.
—
You’re really not expecting Wanda to take your suggestion at heart, but one day you see her speaking with Darcy in the hallway, your friend pretending to not be interested in the conversation at all.
The only sign that she actually forgives Wanda is when you’re sitting with the girl at the cafeteria and Darcy sits next to you, carrying a tray.
“This is the only seat that I could find” she mutters unconvincingly, making you and Wanda smile.
Though you spent most of the time in each other’s dorms, watching movies or shows. You learn that Jarvis was the one that dragged Wanda to all those parties and anytime you invite her to one she politely declines.
Now, you’re staying in while the rest of your friends are at the Odinson mansion. You don’t know if they’re allergies or a mild cold, but you’ve been feeling sick all day and wanted to rest.
“Coming” you groan when someone knocks. You open the door to find Wanda on the other side. “You’ll get sick, what are you doing here?”
“I made you soup”
“Thanks” you take the container, and you gotta admit the idea of warm soup makes your mouth water. “I’d say do you want to come in, but I really do worry this might be contagious”
“I’ll be fine” she walks inside, finding her usual place in the couch and patting the spot next to her. “Come on. We’ll even watch that boring show you like”
“The Office is not boring!” you huff, making her laugh.
A couple of episodes later, and you feel your eyes slowly closing, a side effect from the medicine you took. Wanda notices, and makes you walk to your room.
As you lay in bed, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel Wanda sliding next to you, her hand on your forehead.
“Your fever is down”
“Mhm. Thanks to the magic soup”
“I’m staying, in case you need anything”
“Ok, baby” you nod, too sleepy to notice what you’re saying.
Wanda’s heart flutters at the term of endearment, and she watches you sleep peacefully, her mind racing with thoughts about what could this possibly mean to you both.
On the other hand, you don’t remember anything and are startled when you feel someone sleeping next to you.
“Wanda?” you say when you turn around, smiling at how cute she looks, all confused.
“I must have fallen asleep here. How are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks” you lay on your side, still smiling. Wanda is still thinking about the way you called her and it’s fairly obvious you don’t remember.
Still, she leans forward and you almost watch in slow motion as her lips meet yours in a short kiss.
“Why did you…”
“You make me feel… I don’t know. Safe. I’m sorry, if I crossed line. Maybe I should go…” she sits up and you follow suit, making her turn to you.
This second kiss is a bit more urgent and less delicate, but you hope it makes a point.
“Now I really hope that what I had wasn’t contagious”
Wanda laughs at that, her hand over yours.
——
The next few weeks you grow closer to Wanda. You spend most of the time at her place, watching sitcoms and more often than not, you end up making out on her bed, until you’re both out of breath.
She also enjoys teasing you endlessly, like that time she sat next to you in Agatha’s class and put her hand on your thigh. Your knee jolted forward, crashing against the table and making the professor glare at you.
This time, you’re supposed to be studying in your room, but you find that looking at Wanda as she goes over her notes is far more interesting.
“Stop” she says after a few minutes and you smile.
“I’m not doing anything”
“You’re staring”
“Can you blame me?” you crawl behind her, placing small kisses down her neck. She sighs at the contact, leaning against your front.
“Are you doing this to get my notes?”
“Maybe” you laugh against her shoulder, making her turn until you’re kissing her, and she pushes you down on the bed, straddling your lap.
“You better work for them, then”
Next day, when you’re done with your test, the first thing you do is reach for Wanda’s hand. To your surprise, she flinches away, grabbing the strap of her bagpack.
“Did you do ok on the test?” she’s quick to ask, hoping you won’t push it too much.
“I think so, yeah”
“If you pass, I’d say you owe me for borrowing my notes” she smiles.
“Well, we could go out to the movies. Or dinner?” you suggest, your heart beating faster. It’s a thought that has been going through your mind recently.
Not that you don’t enjoy the kissing and sneaking around, but you’re eager to take Wanda out, find new places together, talk about something else other than classes and her old shows.
“I’m not sure I can make it” Wanda says, avoiding your eyes again.
This new rejection stings and you drop your shoulders, looking for an excuse to leave.
“Yeah, you’re right. We have lots of stuff to do. I’ll catch you later” you say, walking faster and not waiting for Wanda’s reply.
The rest of the day is spent in your dorm, which isn’t unusual. The only difference is that you’re alone instead of enjoying Wanda’s company, and hiding from seeing her.
“Wanna go to Joe’s with us?” Carol offers. “To celebrate midterms are over”
“Sounds fun” you agree, because it’s been forever since you’ve been with your friends.
“You can invite your girl”
“She’s not my girl”
“Oh?” Carol tilts her head to the side, putting the pieces together. “So that’s why you only hang out in the dorms”
“What did you think we were doing?”
“Having sex like crazy”
No answer comes to you, because sex is something that hasn’t happened yet. Or maybe never, considering Wanda doesn’t want anything more.
“I don’t think she knows what she wants, Carol”
“Do you?” she asks gently. Your immediate response is a shrug of your shoulders, and it’s a lie, because you know exactly what you want. “Come on, it’s her loss then. Let’s just go out and have fun”
Meeting your friends does improve your mood and you’re happy you listened to Carol. You eat and play pool, until everyone gets restless and looks for something else to do.
“Heard Stark is having a party” Carol says, knowing he always gets the fancy booze.
“Pass” you’re the first one to speak.
“Why?”
“Isn’t he best friends with Jarvis?” Darcy says. “We don’t want to have another fight, do we?”
“Oh come on, there will be so many people he won’t even notice that you’re there!” Carol insists, and you can tell she’s gonna be stubborn and annoying until she gets what she wants.
So, you agree, but spend the whole time looking around, waiting for that jerk to pop out of nowhere and pick up a fight.
“I don’t think he’s here” Darcy says, patting your back. “Let’s just have some fun, then Val will drag Carol out of here and we can go home, yeah?”
“Sounds like a plan” you nod.
For the next hour, you do enjoy the party and are even surprised when Tony seems happy to see you. To be fair, he is a lot nicer than most of his friends. You’re relaxed, dancing to the music and doing shots with Darcy and Val, almost forgetting why you were so sad in the first place.
That is, until you walk out of the living room to get another beer, but the place is so crowded you bump into a girl.
“Sorry, are you ok?” you say, turning to make sure she’s fine.
Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Wanda’s.
She calls for you, but the sound of her voice is drowned out by the music and the ringing in your ears. Jarvis says Wanda’s name, and you take advantage of the distraction to escape, pushing people out of the way.
When the fresh air hits you, the first thing you do is bend over the railing of the porch and throw up, coughing and wretching violently.
“It’s ok” Darcy comes out of nowhere, getting the hair out of your face.
“Shit” Val sobers up immediately. “Time to go home?”
“Yeah, come on. Let’s get a cab” Carol says, patting your back.
They think you’re wasted, but all you are is heartbroken. Wanda was with him, after everything you’ve been through.
The shame over being so naive makes you stay in your dorm for the entire day.
Wanda shows up the minute Carol leaves.
“You should go”
“Please let me explain”
“I don’t think that’s possible” you shake your head. You know it, deep down. She’ll never give you a place in her life.
“We’re just… friends. He wanted to talk, apologize”
“Wanda” you plead, hoping she’ll stop. But instead, she pushes past you, her hands in your face.
“I can’t lose you”
“Why would I stay?”
Wanda answers with a kiss, that is slow at first, and then borderline agressive. You’re pushing, then pulling, unsure of what you want from her, but she pulls your pants down, just enough for her hand to fit, moving past your underwear and circling your clit. Your nails dig into her shoulders, gasping and breathing as she enters roughly, her fingers moving fast and hard.
It’s not nice or affectionate, but a way to further claim you, ruin you, brand you. Now she’s reached and touched more of you, and you’ll never be able to erase it.
Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, and after the high, you come crashing down. All you feel is bitterness and guilt and anger. Wanda stays inside, biting your neck. The sting reminds you, you’re only gonna get pain out of this.
—
It becomes a vicious circle. Wanda is distant in public, because more often than not Jarvis is by her side. And then, she corners you in any spot she can find, kissing you and pressing her body against yours.
The more you let her in, the weaker you are and it’s nearly impossible to stay away. It will hurt if she leaves, and it hurts to be with her.
“I don’t know how to stay away” you confess to Carol one particularly hard night. Darcy was called to offer her support, and she provided that along with snacks. “You were right, Darcy”
“I didn’t want to be” she says, holding your hand. “You’re the only one who can put a stop to this. She’ll never stop looking for you”
You can’t see yourself doing that, but then you walk past her in the hallway, and you hear her saying those words to Jarvis.
“I love you”
You couldn’t even get her to hold your fucking hand.
Pushing past her, you walk away, hoping to find the nearest bathroom and lock yourself there. Lucky for you, Wanda doesn’t follow you.
There’s someone else waiting outside.
“Miss Y/L/N” Professor Harkness greets and you nod, looking at your feet and hoping she doesn’t notice your red eyes.
“Professor”
“You’re too advanced for my class. My wife has a spot in her lecture. New people to impress, most of them pHD students”
Her emphasis in the new makes you understand.
You won’t have to see Wanda in class.
“Ok. I’d like that”
“Keep your head high, kiddo” Agatha says, her hand on your chin. “And don’t tell any of this to Rio or she’ll accuse me of going soft”
“Yes, Professor Harkness. Thank you”
“Mhm” she nods, giving her signature smirk and turning around.
One less place where you’ll have to see Wanda.
Soon after that, you change everything about your routine. Where you eat, study, even go out for runs. Hell, you change your phone number and Darcy is kind enough to let you stay with her for a while. That, and the Thanksgiving break are enough to give you three weeks of space.
It hurts and more than once you have to stop yourself from looking for Wanda. But what’s the point of being a secret? The longer it goes on, the more it will hurt.
Still, there are days when anger weights heavier than sadness. You’re mad at yourself, for being so stupid. At Wanda, because she was a coward and a liar. And those times, you get restless and go out to run, listening to music until you reach a hidden lake. It’s one of the few places you can be at peace, because you found it after Wanda broke your heart. So, there’s no ghost of her here, only you and your conflicting emotions.
Throwing stones at the lake is a way to pass time, and you’re doing exactly that when you hear rustling behind you.
“Sorry” a raspy voice says. Your eyes meet green ones, but these are softer, almost shy. The girl has beautiful red hair, braided with a few strands lose. She misinterprets your silence, and quickly retreats. “I’ll find another spot”
“That’s ok. I can… I can go”
“No, you don’t have to” she’s quick to reassure.
“Well, we can always share” you propose, smiling. The girl nods, and places her bagpack next to a log. She pulls out a book, and begins reading. You continue throwing rocks, stealing glances here and there.
“Is the book any good?” you finally ask.
“Depends”
“On what?”
“On your fascination with social expectations in Russian society during the 19th century”
“Pass. Got anything lighter?” you joke. To your surprise, the girl pulls out another book.
“How about the perils of indulging in romantic fantasies?”
“I know those very well” you say, grimacing. She puts the book down, smiling at you. You try to smile back, but turn your attention back to the lake until you’re able to calm down.
“Lit major?” you guess, pointing at the spot next to her. She moves her bag, allowing you to sit.
“Yeah. You?”
“Anthropology. Minor in Art History. I’m surprised we haven’t seen each other in the building”
“I'm a grad student, so I’m usually at the library” the girl says.
“No parties?”
“No one ever invites me” she shakes her head.
“I’d invite you” you blurt out, finding her blush adorable. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be forward”
“It’s not… you’re fine”
“So. Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary. Are you trying to find out if Tolstoy really wrote his book with Flaubert’s in mind?”
The girl gives you an appreciative smile, nodding.
“Yeah, but it’s more about how men in 19th century wrote about women. Even in two different societies, the protagonists are punished for following their desires”
“No one should be punished for that” you say, looking at her. She averts her eyes, holding back a smile.
“Why Anthropology?” she changes the subject.
“Because. We’re the same and we’re not, even thousand of years apart. Isn’t that fascinating?”
“How so?”
“Do you think you have anything in common with someone who lived thirty thousand years ago?”
“We need food to survive. Sleep, water, oxygen” she lists, and you nod.
“Mhm. All basic needs. Next question, did you make a drawing of your hand when you were a kid?”
“Everyone did” she says, as if it’s obvious.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see what it looked like. Because it was my hand and no one else’s”
“And people thirty thousand years ago thought the same thing. And left their handprint in a cave in Southern France. Isn’t that something wonderful?”
She stays silent for a second and then smiles.
“I suppose it is, yes. To have an impact, so long after you’re gone too”
“You get it” you nod. “I’m Y/N, by the way”
“Natasha” she says, smiling at you.
The next few days, you catch yourself thinking about Natasha, and even with all the distractions, your mind goes back to her. It takes every ounce of self control to not wait everyday by the lake. Why would you want to get hurt, when you just started healing?
Love never ends well for Anna Karenina, Emma Bovary or yourself.
And yet… three days later you’re by the lake, holding a book of your own collection and an extra scone. You’re about to give up when Natasha shows up, and she seems as eager as you.
“Hey”
“Hi” she answers, a smile on her face. “Am I interrupting lunch?”
“This is for you. I mean, I was hoping I’d see you here” you stutter, looking everywhere but Natasha’s eyes.
“I was hoping to see you too” she confesses. It takes you by surprise, so she grabs the scone and the book as you try to gather your thoughts.
“Emily Dickinson” she reads. “Enjoying it?”
“You can borrow it if you want. I mean, yes I enjoyed it when I read it. But I just thought, you might like a change from male authors”
“Thank you” she nods, holding it close to her. “I actually have to go…”
“Oh, right” you nod, trying not to look disappointed.
“Can I have your number?” Natasha blurts out, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair. “To give you your book back”
You smile, handing over your phone.
“I recently changed my number and I haven’t memorized it yet. So give me yours”
“Ok” she says. As soon as the device is back in your hands, you send her a text.
“See? Now I’m sure I gave you the right number”
“Talk to you soon. Thanks for the food”
When is it appropriate to text someone without looking desperate?
Either way, you can’t hold back your excitement as you walk to your dorm, jumping on Carol’s back as she’s eating her cereal.
“Are you mad?” she says, flakes and milk flying all over the counter.
“I’m just happy!”
“Why?” she glares, hoping you’re not back to your old ways.
“I spoke to a girl. And she gave me her phone number”
“Oh, my God! Y/N!” Carol shouts, the rest of her cereal thrown away as she dances around.
“What’s all the fuss?” Val says from the shower, concerned over the noise. Carol runs to the bathroom and opens the door wide.
“Y/N met a girl”
“Way to go!” Val joins the celebration and you’re about to say thank you when you notice she’s stepping out of the shower.
“Gah, bye”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want your new girlfriend to think you’re a pervert!”
“Shut up” you say, walking to your room and flipping her off without turning back.
The rest of your evening is spent studying, but also looking at your phone waiting for anything to come through.
As you’re getting ready to sleep, there’s a text.
Nat: I’m ready to give the book back.
Y/N: It’s been… seven hours?
Nat: I’m a fast reader.
Nat: Secret spot? Saturday morning.
Y/N: I’ll be there
—
It’s the first time you’re there so early. The light filters through the leaves, birds chirping as their day begins with the rays of sunshine.
The walk to the lake is lovely, and you spot a couple of small flowers as you find your way to the place. Deciding to get one for luck, you twirl it around in your fingers.
You sit by the log, looking at the fog over the surface of the water when you hear soft footsteps approaching.
“I was afraid you’d stood me up” you joke when Natasha sits next to you.
“And stole your book?”
“The book, I could get over” you admit, giving her the flower. Natasha smiles, her fingertips caressing the petals delicately.
Your eyes are focused on the curve of her lips and those beaufitul eyes.
“Well, I’m here” she says, smiling when your eyes meet hers. “Thank you, I enjoyed reading it”
You take the book, your hands touching briefly.
“There’s a problem, though”
“What is it?” you say, worried that something’s wrong.
“I gave the book back, but I still have to thank you for that scone”
“Oh” you laugh.
“So, what is your preferred payment method? Ice cream? Coffee?”
“It’s a little early for ice cream”
“Then we’ll get it later. I know just the place”
“Yeah. I’d like that”
Though there are no classes, Natasha still has to meet with her advisor, so you chat for an hour until she has to go back to uni, agreeing to meet at your dorm in the evening.
“Is this a date?” you ask your friends on the video call as they agree on what you should wear.
“Of course it is, you silly goose!” Carol says, her face occupying half of the screen. “Wear something hot!”
“No, something comfortable. It’s an ice cream date, not a club” Val argues, trying to get a glimpse of the options.
“Something comfortable AND hot”
As they keep arguing, you opt for a pair of jeans, a white cotton t-shirt and a light jacket.
“Gotta go” you say when someone knocks. After hanging up, you are surprised to check Natasha’s ten minutes early. Plus, you don’t remember giving her your exact room number, agreeing you’d come down and meet at the lobby.
You’re about to open the door when the voice on the other side makes you stop in your tracks.
“Y/N? Please. Open up. I need you”
Wanda.
That voice, those words, the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to push away and bury come back. But instead of hurting you, they make you angry. You’re about to go out with a wonderful girl, who seems geniuenly interested in you. And here comes Wanda, trying to stain that as well.
Without thinking twice, you climb out of the window, holding on to the emergency ladder. You look down, unsure of what to do when you reach the last step.
"What are you doing?" Natasha says, rushing to stand above you.
"Parkour?" you reply weakly. "Is it too high?"
"Don't worry, I'll catch you"
Trusting her, you jump. Truth to her word, she eases the fall as you land, but you drag her along with you as you stay on the floor.
“Are you hurt? Why did you do that?”
Her hands are running over every inch of your face, going down to your shoulders and arms. The worry in her eyes only makes your heart beat faster.
“My roomate accidentally locked me inside”
You figure it's better than saying "My situationship is outside my door and I wanted to avoid her"
“You could have told me, and I would have gone and find her” Natasha insists.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get ice cream? I won’t ever do this again” you promise, holding her hand. The redhead rolls her eyes, but nods and leads you away from the building.
You make small talk, appreciating how her hand doesn’t leave yours as you get away from campus and to the walking district. You try to look discreetly behind you, hoping Wanda didn’t see you and followed you.
Natasha finds the store, opening the door for you.
“Rocky road, please” you give Natasha puppy eyes and she smiles, ordering strawberry ice cream for her.
“So, what’s your deal?” she asks as you leave the store.
“My deal? What do you mean?” you say, mouth full of ice cream. The girl wipes the corner of your mouth with her napkin.
“You mentioned parties. Are you some sort of wild girl looking for someone to charm every night?”
“Oh, yes, I’m quite the Casanova” you laugh. “No, come on. My friends are cool and we just like to have fun from time to time”
“So, not a player” she notes with a smile.
“I did get my heart broken, though”
“Fella done you wrong?”
“His girlfriend done me wrong” you correct, wishing you were talking about anything else. But truthfully, if you want things to work out, you better be honest. “She was with me, but only on her terms and as if I were a secret”
“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that”
“I moved on. So, don’t think I’m just messing here, Nat. I really like you” you hurry to say, blushing slightly.
“I like you too” she takes your hand. “Now, let’s finish our ice cream so I can show you this awesome bookstore I found”
The next few hours are spent talking about college, some of your plans for the future and also, your friends. You smile when Natasha comments she’d love to hang out with them.
Before it gets dark, you walk back to campus. Worried that Wanda might still be at your door, you asked Darcy a while back to go check. Apparently, the coast was clear.
Natasha walks you to the door.
“I had the best time” you say, smiling. “We should do it again. Maybe go to the movies?”
“Would love to” Natasha nods, her eyes drifting to your lips. You lean forward, heart beating fast as you’re eager to feel her lips on yours.
“Are you still here? I told you to beat it!” Darcy opens the door, making you both jump back. “Oops, I thought you were someone else. Sorry, I’ll go back inside. Pretend this didn’t happen, make out”
“Darcy” you groan. Your friend doesn’t get inside, though.
“The famous Natasha. Y/N here won’t shut up about you”
“Shhh, don’t listen to her, she’s off her meds” you ask Nat, covering Darcy’s mouth and pushing her inside. As you close the door, you hold it so she can’t open it again.
Natasha laughs, her hands going to your hips and pulling you softly. You take a few steps forward, smiling as she lifts your chin, leaning to connect your lips in a slow kiss.
It’s mindblowingly good, although too short for your liking.
“So, when are we doing this again?”
“The date or the kiss?” she jokes and your hands go around her neck.
“Both”
“As soon as you’re free” she says, kissing you once more before leaving for the day.
Darcy snaps a picture the second you walk inside.
“That’s the gayest you’ve ever looked, congrats” she says, sending the picture to the group chat.
You roll your eyes, pulling out your phone and smiling.
Y/N: Best I’ve ever had
Nat: The kiss or the ice cream?
Y/N: What do you think?
Smiling at your phone, you walk to the couch where your friend is sitting.
“I’m happy that you’re happy” she says, relieved that you’re healing from everything that Wanda put you through.
“Me too” you sigh, pulling your knees against your chest. “Though I do have to ask. Did Wanda say why was she here?”
“I didn’t care enough to find out. All I did was tell her to leave you alone. And then I pretended you were inside so she wouldn’t go anywhere else looking for you”
“You’re a great friend” you nudge her with your foot and she glares.
“Ew, get that thing away from me”
“I take it back” you show her your tongue.
The next week, you text Natasha between classes, and though she’s very busy, she’s always making time to get back to you. You agree to go out on another date on Friday, but neither one can wait to see each other, so you end up at the library on a Wednesday evening, each one focused on your work.
Well, Natasha is focused on her work. You’re looking at her, because this is the first time you’ve seen her wearing glasses and it’s adorable.
“Find anything interesting?”
“Plenty” you say, not even pretending to be reading your notes.
“You’re not the only one who’s staring” Natasha’s eyebrow arches, speaking without looking up. “Brunette, green eyes, a lot of rings and eyeshadow”
“Oh”
“Is that the infamous ex?” she says and you’re scared she’ll be upset about this whole situation.
“Uhm… yeah. I’m sorry. If she’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll just leave…”
Natasha looks up at that, eyeing you up and down as you struggle to read her expression. She surprises you by pulling your chair until it bumps against hers, leaning forward and kissing you, one of her hands on your thigh and the other holding your chin, in that signature move that always makes your head spin.
“Maybe that’ll keep her away” Natasha says, smiling and bumping her nose against yours.
“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me to focus on an essay” you say, biting your lip.
“Then let’s get something to eat. We need a break from all this studying” she proposes, picking up her things and leading you out of the library, her hand in yours.
You don’t care to look around for Wanda to check if she’s watching, because this moment with Natasha is yours. She’s holding your hand, kissing you, spending time with you whenever she can, instead of hiding you like you’re a dirty secret.
By being herself, she’s given you the one thing you always craved for. Something real.
Finally, Friday comes and you’re buzzing with excitement, getting ready to meet Natasha.
“Wanna go to a party tomorrow? You can invite your girlfriend” Val says, painting her nails while Carol throws a ball in the air.
“We haven’t had the talk about being each other girlfriends”
“What? And you call yourself a lesbian? This is the second date, you should be adopting a cat by now”
“Like you and Val with Goose?”
“Yes!”
“Well, sorry to disappoint the sapphics, I’m just trying to not scare her away. And about the party, yeah, if Natasha’s up for it, we’ll stop by”
“Alright, it’s at Stark’s”
“Oh. Maybe not, then”
Your friends share a look, and you glare as they both stay silent.
“You can’t avoid her forever” Val is the first one to speak. “She’s gonna keep looking for you, getting in the middle of what could be a good relationship just because she thinks she can”
“Yeah, next time you see her, don’t jump out the window. Open the door and tell her off” Carol agrees.
“You did what?” Val looks at you, baffled.
“It’s ok, Nat was there to catch me. Speaking of which” you hear a knock on the door, and stand up. “See ya, cat ladies”
“Hey! We only have the one”
You laugh as you open the door, but then you’re interrupted by Natasha’s lips on yours.
“Hey”
“Hello” she smiles, and then looks behind you as your friends whistle.
“Meet Val and Carol. My two former best friends” you grumble when they make kissing sounds.
“Nice to meet you” Natasha greets over your shoulder.
“Bring her home at a decent time” Carol says. “Unless you plan on having sex. In that case take her back to yours so she doesn’t wake me up”
“I hate you so much” you sigh, pulling Nat away.
“We’ll see you at the party tomorrow”
“Sorry about them” you mumble when you’re going down the stairs.
“What was that about a party?” she asks, opening the car door for you.
“Ever heard of Tony Stark? Big house, bigger ego. Loves to have parties. We don’t have to go unless you want to” you say, half expecting her to turn down the invitation.
“If you want me to go I’ll be there”
“I just want us to spend some time together, doing whatever you want” you say, blushing.
“I did promise I’d try going to a party with you, and it seems like the perfect time. Could meet the rest of your friends”
“Alright then” you nod, excited and terrified about how things could turn out if a certain someone is there.
Carol is right, though. You can’t be looking over your shoulder all the time, expecting Wanda to approach you and open those wounds.
If you have closure, in whatever way that is, she won’t have the power to hurt you anymore.
It’s hard to focus on the movie with Natasha by your side, her hand clasped in yours over your leg. At one point, you lean against her shoulder and she kisses your temple.
She’s so perfect, it makes you dizzy.
“What did you think about the movie?” she asks as you go out of the theater, her arm around your waist.
“It was good. I’m glad I understood most of it without having watched those other Alien movies”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked a different one” she protests, pulling you to a stop.
“I just want to be with you. Plus you looked so excited to watch it, I had a hard time saying no”
“Is that so?” she arches an eyebrow.
“Don’t use that against me, Natasha” you warn, getting ready to argue but her lips silence you, and you moan against the kiss.
It’s not nearly enough, and you need more of her, not just kissing.
“So if I ask you to go back home with me, will you still have a hard time saying no?”
“On the second date? What do you think I am, a harlot?”
“I’d count the lake as a date of it’s own. And the library too”
“So, this is like the fourth one?” you say, counting with your fingers.
“You don’t have to, I was only…”
Natasha’s words are cut off by your lips on hers, and she holds back a moan of her own when you run your tongue over her bottom lip.
“I’d very much like to go back to your place”
The drive back is silent, but not in an uncomfortable way. There’s a certain tension, and the expectation of what is about to happen makes you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.
“This is home” Natasha says, opening the door to her apartment. Of course, as a grad student, you expected her to have her own place, but you still admire how homey it feels. There are books everywhere, which makes sense, and pictures of Natasha’s family.
“It’s lovely” you say, turning back to look at her. The tour of the place is forgotten, as you watch Natasha approach you slowly, her hands dropping to your waist.
“Nervous?”
“Yeah. A bit” you admit, because lying to Natasha has never been something you’d consider doing. “I want this to be perfect. And for you to really like it”
For me to be enough.
“It’s already perfect” she says, coming closer and kissing you slowly. Your eyes close as you enjoy the sensation of her lips against yours, hands wandering to your lower back. Without breaking the kiss, you discard your jacket and take hers off as well, and she immediately pulls you against her, your hands holding her cheeks as she deepens the kiss.
“Are we doing it standing up?” you ask when she breaks apart, breathing heavily against your neck. “Because I’ve never tried it, but I am open to experimenting”
“You could just say that we should take this to the bedroom” she laughs against your temple.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?”
Still, she laughs as you pull her by the belt loop of her pants, guessing that her bedroom must be that last door to the left.
“Bingo” you smile, opening the door. There are more books scattered on the nightstand and the floor, but at least the bed is clear. “God, Nat, your reading is gonna kill me” you say as you fall to the bed and make her land on top of you.
“Sorry, I don’t have company very often”
“Are you a virgin?” you tease, knowing full well she’s dated in the past, though nothing serious.
Instead of answering, she kisses you again, her lips drifting down to your neck, and then lower to your stomach. In one swift motion, she unsclaps your bra and lifts your shirt up, her tongue swirling around a nipple. You moan, surprised at the contact, holding her head in place as she moves to the other nipple.
“Does it look like my first time?” Natasha says against your lips, her hands going down to undo the button of your jeans.
“I’m sorry, I was only joking, baby” you say, and it’s almost embarassing how desperate you sound.
“Good girl” she comments, pulling your pants down. You struggle with your underwear and Natasha’s too impatient, so she pulls it aside and starts eating you out, her tongue making circles and swirling around your clit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you say, biting your hand to keep you from screaming. Natasha nudges your clit with her nose as she moves to go up and down and you’re close when she stops. “Why?”
“I want to be inside you”
It’s a mystery, how your brain doesn’t stop functioning at that, but you manage to discard your shirt and start to undress Natasha, eager to feel her skin against yours. Once you’re both naked, she flips you, so you’re on top of her, straddling her lap.
“I’m debating if it would be better to have my fingers or my strap buried in your pussy” she says, and you wonder how the girl who is so well spoken can manage to be so crass.
Not that you’re complaining.
“Anything you want” you say, aware that you’re rubbing your center against her thigh.
“What’s that?”
“I… please. Just use me” you plead, desperate for some release.
Those words do it for Natasha, who takes out a strap on from her nightstand. You protest when she stands up to fasten it around her hips, feeling like you’re gonna combust if she’s not touching you.
“Shh, I’m here” she soothes you, laying on top of you and rubbing the strap against your entrance.
“Fuck me, Nat” you squeeze your legs around her, hoping she stops teasing you.
“That’s the plan, baby. Tell me if it hurts?” Natasha asks as she begins to fill you up, and you’re too far gone to give a verbal confirmation, nodding instead.
“More” you insist when she stops, searching for any sign of discomfort. Natasha thrusts forward, sinking the entire shaft and you moan, arching your back. “Harder”
Truthfully, Natasha’s never been so adventurous or forward in her sex life, but the way you’re pleading, clenching and panting underneath her, wakes something entirely new inside her. Pushing your knees against your chest, she moves in and out, reaching new spots that make you see stars.
“Yes, yes, yes” is all you manage to say, holding on to the sheets as your knuckles turn white. “Nat, I’m gonna…”
The words are stuck in your mouth as a powerful orgasm takes over, leaving you breathless. You feel Natasha slowing down her movements, and then she goes to kiss your neck, the strap still buried inside you.
“That was…” you sigh, trying to make your brain work. As your breathing steadies, your muscles relax and you let a finger run up and down Natasha’s side. “I don’t know what to say. You’re the one with the big words”
“That was fucking hot” she says, making you laugh. “And I’m not done with you”
Good thing your schedule was clear for the next day, because you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.
—
Your muscles feel sore when you wake up, stretching and turning in Natasha’s arms, watching her sleep.
Her alarm woke you up, but she’s still sound asleep.
“Nat” you say, moving her fiery hair out of her face. “Baby”
“No” she protests.
“Time to get up. You’re meeting your advisor, remember?”
Natasha curses under her breath, clearly not caring enough to wake up.
“Hey… what if I sit on your face?”
“I’m up” she says, opening her eyes and pulling you by the waist. “Come on, giddy up”
“Nuh-uh. Get dressed”
“Why would you lie about something like that?” she whines, burying her face in your neck.
“I didn’t lie, because technically, I didn’t say I’d do it right now. Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast and then we can go back to uni”
“Fine. But this discussion is not over” she kisses your cheeks, neck and then your lips, smiling as you laugh. “Morning”
“Morning, baby” you say, appreciating how beautiful she looks even with bed hair.
When she gets up, you find one of her t-shirts and go to the kitchen, looking at your options. You opt for french toast and make some coffee, because Natasha is definitely gonna need it to stay awake.
“Tastes amazing” she comments when you sit down to eat.
“Breakfast or me?” you tease and she almost chokes with her coffee. “Sorry, let’s eat”
“So, what are the plans for today?”
“Laundry, some homework. Standard stuff”
“Do you have any plans for lunch?” Natasha asks and you shake your head no. “Would you like to eat with me? After I’m done with my meeting and you finish your stuff, of course”
“Would love to” you say, smiling at how domestic and perfect it all feels.
Once you finish breakfast, you get changed and walk to Nat’s car. Parking close to your dorm, she kisses you goodbye and walks to the professor's offices.
You’re so distracted, thinking about everything that happened that you don’t notice Wanda sitting outside your dorm until you’re at the door.
“Wanda” you say, your hands in the pocket of your jeans. “Hey”
“Y/N? Did you just get here?” she says, looking around and then at the time on her phone. “You didn’t sleep here?”
“What do you want?”
“I want… to apologize”
You sigh, hoping the conversation ends soon so you don’t have to ever talk to her again.
“Anything else?”
“I thought he would change. He promised. But then it happened, again and again. And all I could think about is how you’d never do that to me”
“No, I wouldn’t. But now it’s too late. You made your choice”
“It was the wrong choice. Please, just give me another chance. I was scared before…”
“No, Wanda. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear it and we’re not gonna be anything at all. Natasha is… she’s amazing and I want to be with her. You had a choice to make and you went with him. And now… I have to choose the girl I’m in love with”
“Is there anything I can do or say…?”
“No. I’m sorry” you shake your head. Wanda nods, wiping away the tears. It does tug at your heart, seeing her so alone and broken. But it’s not on you to fix this.
Not anymore.
You let out a sigh when she leaves the hallway, turning in the other direction so she doesn’t see you wiping away a tear of your own.
Your eyes meet Natasha’s. She’s holding a bouquet, looking at you intensely.
“Nat. I can explain.”
The redhead drops the flowers and you’re scared she’ll walk away, but instead, she approaches you, lifting you as she kisses you. You sigh against her lips, holding on to her as if she’s the only thing in the world.
“I heard. Everything. You don’t have to explain anything” she puts you down, smiling. “I’m in love with you too”
“I don’t… know what to say” you laugh, craddling her face in your hands.
“No need to speak” she pulls you closer again, walking back until your're cornered against your door.
“I swear to God, if it’s that girl again I’m going to…” Carol opens the door without a warning, making you almost fall. “Awww, you guys! Val, come look! They’re kissing”
“With tongue?”
“I hate you so much” you complain, hiding your face in Natasha’s neck. She laughs, kissing your temple. “Now close the door so I can say goodbye to my girlfriend”
“Girlfriend? Val, they’re girlfriends!”
“Wohoo!” the girl screams from somewhere inside the apartment.
“Agh, it’s like having overbearing lesbian mothers” you slam the door shut, turning to Natasha. “I’m staying at your place tonight, or they will drive me insane with all their questions”
“Tonight, every night. Whatever you want. Just know… you’re getting very little sleep” she says with a smirk, kissing you.
Summary: Natasha Romanoff does not date. It used to be because she didn’t have, well, bodily autonomy, but even after that, she never really made the time for it.
And then: sabotage.
Word Count: 1,600
Warnings: None, just tooth rotting fluff
Masterlist (coming soon)
Natasha Romanoff does not date. It used to be because she didn’t have, well, bodily autonomy, but even after that, she just never really made the time for it. She knows that Clint dated, had to hear all about it, the meetings, the honeymoon phases, the breakups. And then one day, there was no breakup, but she did have to meet Laura, and she was nice. And then after a while, when she realized that Natasha really, really did not want Clint, she was even nicer. And then Natasha had two people harassing her about dating, which was less than ideal. Once she started with the Avengers, well, Clint gave her a break.
But still, it was the same question every time she showed up at his front door:
“So, got a girlfriend yet?”
And the same answer:
“Fuck you Barton, let me in.”
(She stopped cursing when the kids came, but made sure to give him a smack when they turned around.)
~~
And then they sabotaged her. (But she’s not really complaining.)
She knocks on the door and glances behind her, just out of habit, while she waits for someone to let her in. When she hears the approaching footsteps, ones that aren’t Clint or Laura, she immediately pulls out her gun, and she’s about to break the door down when it opens. And she has enough time to recognize that you’re not an assassin, and then Lucky is running past her, out into the field, and then you take off after him.
She stands on the porch for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell is happening, before she snaps into action. She goes after you and the dog, and between the two of you, he’s corralled back into the house in fifteen minutes. She follows your footsteps into the house, noting that you’re slightly out of breath from the impromptu run. Not an agent, then.
“Hey, you’re Natasha, right?” is the first thing out of your mouth that isn’t a curse or the dog’s name.
She just nods.
“Clint and Laura told me you might stop by,” and you’re smiling, laughing as you say the next bit, “they also warned me that you might pull a gun on me.”
She raises an eyebrow, “and you didn’t think that was odd?”
“Well, I’ve worked for–” you cut yourself off abruptly, thinking before you continue speaking, “I think he was Clint’s boss. Anyway, it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard.”
That gets her attention, “Fury? You worked for Fury?”
You nod and her hands itch for her gun again; “who are you?” is all she can manage, confused as hell by the bits of information you’ve given her.
“I’m a pet sitter.” you say brightly, holding in a laugh at her incredulous look.
“A pet sitter?”
“Yeah, I watched Fury’s cat, Goose. She’s really sweet once she warms up to you.”
Natasha thinks she’s having a stroke.
You’re trying not to embarrass yourself, but Natasha is looking like she’s going to kill you, and you’re trying to avoid checking her out, and so you just keep talking to fill the silence.
“But, yeah. So I’ve taken care of Goose a few times, and then when Clint got Lucky, he got my info from Fury. I’ve cared for him a couple times, but not for too long. This time though, Clint’s gone away for longer. He and Laura took the kids to disney world for a week, and so here I am.”
You slowly stop speaking, and Natasha manages to get a grip of herself.
“I see. Well, I’ll head out then.”
“No!” You shout it before you can stop, and she smirks.
“I just mean, you don't have to. Clint said you might stop by, and Laura told me that she made up both guest bedrooms just in case.”
Natasha considers the facts for a minute: she had mentioned to Clint that she’d try and stop by this week, he hadn’t said anything about a trip to Florida with the kids, and he had very suspiciously not answered her texts letting him know she was on the way. Fuck it.
“Just one night, then. It’s a long flight back. As long as you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. And I’ll stay out of your way.”
Her response is cut short by her phone ringing, and she excuses herself to another room when she sees that it’s Clint calling.
“Out of town?” is her greeting to him.
“Oops? I must’ve forgotten to mention it.” He answers, using a snarky, sarcastic tone.
“Bullshit, Barton.”
“Fury trusts her.”
“So you got Fury in on this too! Jumped on the bandwagon: let’s find Natasha a date?” And she whispers this part, checking to make sure you’re not within earshot.
“We just thought it might be easier,” he pauses, and Natasha can hear Laura and the kids saying something, her tone patient and the kids excited. “ –anyway, it might be easier with someone who’s already been introduced to everyone.”
“Clint, I– ”
“Gotta go, have fun!”
And then he hangs up, and she promises herself that she’ll mess up his arrows in retaliation, but for now she has to deal with…this.
~~
By the time evening rolls around, she’s gotten comfortable around you; is even laughing and joking with you. And when you whisper goodnight, after the end of the movie, she catches herself staring as you head up the stairs, Lucky on your heels and then quickly moving past you.
She decides it’s time for her to go to bed as well, and she turns out the lights, does a final perimeter check, and heads to the second guest bedroom. She can hear you speaking softly to Lucky, hears the thump of his tail, and when he jumps into your bed she listens as the bed squeaks and you laugh delightedly.
Natasha very much ignores the feeling of jealousy when she thinks about how Lucky gets to spend the night cuddling you.
~~
Natasha is awake and sipping coffee when you and Lucky stumble blearily down the stairs the next morning. Well, you stumble and Lucky runs. She looks on as you open the door and let him outside, stares as you stretch in the patch of sunlight and scrunch your nose at the chill in the air. You make your way into the kitchen and through it into the pantry, preparing Lucky’s breakfast while he’s still outside. And when you shriek finally seeing her in there, she can’t help it, she starts laughing.
“Not nice!” you say once you’ve caught your breath, though you’re holding back a smile.
“Sorry?” but it’s not sincere and she’s still smiling widely as you continue where you left off with Lucky’s food. He comes bounding in, having heard the scream, though it only takes one look at his full food bowl and then he’s distracted, eating noisily in the corner.
“Hmph. Please tell me you at least made enough for me too?” you ask, and she nods, grabbing a mug and filling the cup. She observes silently as you add milk and sugar, smiling at your look of happiness when you take the first sip.
~~
She stays the whole day, and then lets you convince her that it’s too late to fly back, so she’ll have to stay another night.
~~
The following day the two of you take Lucky on a hike, and later you fall asleep leaning on her as the two of you watch movies on the couch.
She stays that night, too.
~~
The next day she takes the opportunity to teach you some archery basics, ensuring that she leaves Clint’s bows and arrows and targets in shambles as retaliation.
That night Lucky sleeps alone, and she sleeps curled around you instead.
She gives him some of her bacon the next morning, and he isn’t one to hold a grudge.
~~
By the time Clint, Laura, and the kids come back, she’s still there, and Lucky has developed a taste for bacon in the mornings.
The two of you spend the night since the kids won’t let either of you leave, and Lucky pouts the next morning, deprived of bacon since Natasha had been deprived of cuddles. (She had rolled her eyes when you insisted on sleeping separately, but smiled into the goodnight kiss you gave her.)
~~
The two of you board the jet the next afternoon, smiling as the family waves goodbye. Clint and Laura high five each other, and Natasha can’t wait for him to see what she’s done to his beloved equipment the next time he goes to practice.
Still, as you sit next to her, talking and staring at the clouds going past, she knows that she also owes him a new bow, and owes Laura a night of babysitting.
Maybe, she thinks as she listens to you talk about meeting the rest of the team, you’ll join her for babysitting duty.
~~
So, to recap:
Natasha Romanoff does not date. It used to be because she didn’t have control, and then it was because she never really made the time for it, making sure she was too busy for it.
She watched as Clint did, as he found a wife and made himself a family. Listened as both of them encouraged her to date. Looked on as he retired and raised his kids and built a home. And then she got sabotaged, and decided she was very happy that she hadn’t listened to them. She had waited, worked, saved the world a few times, and avoided dating. You were her reward.
a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!
request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.
synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.
taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x
The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.
Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.
Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.
For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.
Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.
Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.
The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.
Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.
But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.
Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.
Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.
You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.
And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”
Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.
“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.
⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧
As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.
For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.
As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.
The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.
You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.
With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”
Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.
The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.
As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.
On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.
As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.
Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.
The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.
As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.
As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.
Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.
The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.
Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.
Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.
Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.
The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.
As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.
The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.
When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.
The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.
⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧
You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.
The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.
You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.
As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.
As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.
Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.
You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.
"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."
Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"
Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"
You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."
As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.
As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.
Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.
Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"
Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”
The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.
With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.
As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.
Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.
As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.
As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.
Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.
The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.
When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.
The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.
With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.
“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”
The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.
You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.
Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.
She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.
As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.
Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?
“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.
You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.
With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.
⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧
The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.
In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.
Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.
Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.
You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.
In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.
⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧
Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.
You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only
added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.
Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.
For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.
Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.
⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧
It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.
She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.
And that only made you push it more.
Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.
Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.
By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You
could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.
As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.
When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.
"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"
You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."
Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."
You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."
Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."
You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"
Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."
You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."
Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.
"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."
Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."
But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"
That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"
She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.
"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."
For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.
Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her.
When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.
You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.
“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.
She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.
“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”
Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.
"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."
And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.
For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.
The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.
She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.
"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.
Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.
You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.
The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.
As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.
Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.
You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."
Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.
"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.
"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."
And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.
The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.
Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.
Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind
of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.
The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.
You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.
But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.
Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.
Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.
Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.
The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.
She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.
"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.
Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.
Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.
Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.
"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.
Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.
As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.
You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.
Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.
Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.
Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.
You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.
As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.
You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.
With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.
Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.
You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.
You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.
“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.
She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.
Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.
She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.
You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.
“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.
“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.
But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.
You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.
Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.
You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.
You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.
“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.
But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.
She realised you would choose her too.
For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.
Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.
“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.
“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”
Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.
Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.
Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.
As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.
Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.
The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.
With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.
In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.
Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”
This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.
Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”
This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.
Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.
Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”
Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.
“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”
Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.
In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.
Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.
Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.
Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.
The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.
Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.
You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.
Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.
Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."
Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.
You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.
Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.
You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.
Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.
Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.
Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.
As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.
With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.
Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.
You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.
Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."
You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.
Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.
With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.
When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.
"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."
She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.
A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.
Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.
Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped
around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.
Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.
Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.
Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.
Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.
Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.
Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.
She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.
Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.
It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.
Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.
The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.
Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.
As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.
You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.
For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.
You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.
But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.
Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.
With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.
You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.
With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.
As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.
The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."
Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.
Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.
“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.
Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.
You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.
Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.
The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.
Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.
You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.
“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”
You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.
“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”
Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.
As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.
You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.
“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.
She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.
In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.
As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.
a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x
Summary: Maybe you should have considered what it actually meant to get in a relationship with Hazel, especially a fake one, before you said yes, because now you're falling deep and deep in it and you don't know what to do.
Word count: 5,5k.
Content: cursing, fake dating, kisses, pining, slightly angst, miscommunication, unhealthy situationships, mentions of blood, hazel sends mixed signs (unknowingly), reader is a LOSER, insecure!hazel, flirting, dumb teenagers.
Note: This shouldn't have taken so long since I had all the story planned already, but august was just… crazy, jesus. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy and thanks for being so patient and supportive with this small series, it really means the world to me.
English is not my first language.
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You barely register what happens through the rest of the night, returning home with your head completely flustreaded and your heart pounding in your throat, a goldfish in a fragile plastic bag on your shaking hands and a single text from Isabel when you finally fall into bed.
[josie told me what happened
you're welcome btw]
Well, fuck.
Maybe you should have considered what it actually meant to get in a relationship with Hazel, especially a fake one, before you said yes, because now you’re standing outside the school, nervously clutching the straps of your backpack and not having the courage to go in and face what’s to come.
Still, you do it, because Hazel asked to meet you at your locker before classes started and ignoring her now would just be rude – as if you could ignore her in the first place – so you put your head up and walk down the halls feeling like everyone is staring at you.
And she’s waiting just like she said she would, swaying from foot to foot and seemingly searching for something in the crowd of students. The ear-to-ear grin Hazel gives you when she sees you coming makes your anxiety ease a little.
You greet her a little hesitantly, it’s not like you’ve spoken much since the fair, so you’re not sure how to avoid making things awkward.
Apparently, neither does she, “Hi!” Hazel answers, a little too loudly, before cringing and looking around, as if at any second someone might come along and expose the lie you’re about to tell. Clearing her throat, she starts again, “So, I just wanted to know if it’s okay for me to start walking you between periods now, or— or maybe give you a ride after school, I mean, I know that you usually take the bus but,” Hazel begins to ramble, “I thought that would be more convincing, since, you know, that’s what couples do and—”
“Haze, it's okay,” you interrupt, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder instinctively, brushing some lint off the hodie she's wearing to keep yourself from overthinking it, “Yes. For both things. It's not like we've never done that before, right?”
“...Right,” she looks down at your hand where it's rubbing circles on her shoulder, blinking in realization, “You're right!” she groans, “We already do all this stuff, how are people going to buy it if nothing changes between us? How will PJ?” You try to hold grimacing at the mention and Hazel rests her hands in her head in panic, “Fuck. We should've planned this before we got here, I'm a terrible liar.”
You really should have and she really is a terrible liar. Great, now you're getting nervous too. That's what happens when two anxious teenagers decide to do something on impulse. Just great.
“Okay,” you take a deep breath, someone has to take charge here, “Why don’t we just play along today without elaborating on anything for everyone? Then when class is over we can go to my place and plan everything properly together.”
Hazel relaxes a little at your words and nods, “Yeah, yeah. Sounds good,” she clears her throat, “So, I guess we’ll just have to wing it for today then.”
“It was your idea, sweetheart,” you shrug, “We’ll get through this day.”
The first bell rings and Hazel takes on a determined expression, nodding, she turns, gently taking the bag hanging from your shoulder and placing it next to hers, ignoring your confused look to extend a hand to you, “C’mon, we better not be late this time.”
And you go.
It takes a moment for you to absorb the gasps of excitement and surprise that come when you and Hazel enter Mr. G’s class, too busy cataloging the way her hand feels in yours to pay any real attention to your surroundings. Hazel’s hand is cold and a little damp from flutter, you can perfectly feel the outline of the loose rings on your intertwined fingers and it feels simply perfect. It’s different then other times you’ve held hands, as if she wanted to transmite another kind of feeling. As if she wanted to show it off.
Hazel’s voice sounding close to your ear brings you back into the moment, she squeezes your hands together with an excited whisper: “I think it’s gonna work, she’s already looking at us.”
And sure enough, there’s PJ when you look up, sitting on the edge of the seat with her gaze burning into your hands, Josie watching the scene next to her with a raised eyebrow.
There’s also Sylvie and Annie, a bit perplexed but still cheering from their seats, not giving a damn about the students they don’t know coming into the room to actually try to study.
“What is that?” Sylvie slaps her hands on the table excitedly as you sit next to her and Hazel hands you your backpack, “You guys are a thing now? Dude, that’s awesome!”
“So you did listen to me,” Annie nods to Hazel in approval, “I told you that it had better options. Good job, Haze.”
Hazel lets out an awkward laugh, accepting the teasing with a red face and you stand there, shy and a little confused. You didn’t expect them to react so… genuinely happy, as if you hadn’t all been talking about her liking someone else just a few days ago, in fact, you expected a barrage of questions and suspicious looks. Well, who knows, maybe luck was just on your side with that.
(You kick Jeff's chair hard when the teacher isn't looking as you hear him laughing with his stupid friends about "the freak finally getting a girlfriend", giving Hazel an innocent smile when she turns around with a questioning look at the noise.)
The day passed peacefully, with Hazel walking you to every period, rushing to carry your bag and open doors for you, smiling brightly at your nods of approval and making sure to hold your hand at every opportunity.
It was really sweet to have someone do that for you, to try so hard. It made you feel like a schoolgirl in love and sighing in the hallways – which, for what it’s worth, you were – a warm, timid feeling filling your chest every time she came into view. During lunch she put an arm around you, happily chatting with everyone, taking your hand to play with your fingers once PJ was there too. You almost managed to swallow the bitter taste in your mouth and enjoy it fully – almost.
Now you were both leaving, absently commenting on the reactions you had elicited and you're thinking about what topics to cover when you get home to discuss and match stories, you had to make sure you were on the same page.
“Psst,” Hazel calls as you reach her car, opening the passenger door for you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop you from getting in.
You frown at her upset expression, following her gaze to find the scene she’s staring at the other side of the parking lot.
“Oh,” it’s Josie, Isabel, Brittany, and PJ, of course, but this time with a new addition. The cheerleader Hazel mentioned before, clinging to the arm of a very pleased-looking PJ, “Shit, I’m sorry, Haze.”
Her lips press into a thin line and you feel a pang in your chest at how uncomfortable she is about this, but you can’t say anything because Brittany spots you and waves goodbye as she walks to her own car. And now all of your friends have seen you both too.
“They’re looking,” Hazel mumbles. She seems closer, even though you haven’t heard her approach. Her hand is still holding the door, she's almost leaning over your body.
“I've noticed,” you whisper back. You don't know why your voice suddenly got low, a shiver runs down your spine as you feel her touch moving up your arm.
Hazel leans in even closer, her breath is warm against your face. You gulp.
“She's looking.”
Maybe it was pretty naive, or stupid, that you started dating someone – whether it was fake or not – with the intention of showing it off and not having considered for a second that you would kiss that person, like, actually kiss them. It was just a small detail that your mind chose to so carefully ignore for the sake of your sanity. And that you shouldn't freak out about it, since in theory you've done this before. Still, here you are.
Hazel gets impossibly closer, bringing the hand running down your arm gently to rest on your cheek and you melt in the roughness of her touch, feeling the cold on your warm skin. Your breath hitches as Hazel looks deeply at you, searching for something that she seems to find when you close your eyes in anticipation.
It's all a matter of seconds, but time seems to freeze in the most cliché way when Hazel's lips meet yours for the first time. Her mouth feels warm and soft, a few strands of hair falling through her forehead tickle your face and you can't believe this is real. You swear your heart could explode at any moment with how fast it's beating and it would be totally worth dying for the way you feel right now.
And then when you sigh, about to put a hand on her waist to deepen the kiss, the moment is over and Hazel is pulling away with a little smirk to the driver's side.
You hear Isabel clapping her hands provocatively in the background, but you're too mortified to react in any way other than shakily getting into the car.
What are you doing with your life?
You’re pulled out of your reverie when Hazel stops at a red light, having been silent for most of the short drive, head leaning against the window.
“I’m sorry,” she clears her throat hastily and you look up in confusion, “I— I should’ve asked before kissing you like that. We haven’t talked about this yet, if it was okay or not and I keep doing things without telling you about it. I’m scared I might have crossed the line now ‘cause you still haven’t said a word about it.”
Hazel thinks you’re mad at her. That calm, intense demeanor she seemed to have assumed for a moment is nowhere to be found and you notice the way her hands nervously grip the steering wheel, doing everything she can to keep from looking at you directly. Hazel thinks you’re mad at her, when in fact it couldn’t be more opposed to it.
It’s just that you can’t stop thinking about the kiss. The feeling of her lips lingers on yours like a ghostly touch as the scene replays in your mind over and over.
And you’re bubbling inside. It’s a new thing you never seriously believed you’d share with her one day. In your most vulnerable moments, you knew your fantasies about kissing Hazel were nothing more than that. The real thing, however, was different than what you imagined. All-consuming, completely addictive, and it left you shocked, disturbed.
Because you wanted more.
How could you experience having all of this only for reality to knock on your door and you realize it wouldn’t be for as long as you wanted? You wondered how it would end after this.
You were fucked.
“No! I'm not mad at you!” You exclaim, trying not to turn into a mess, “You didn't cross any line. It's just that, uhm…” your body seems to heat up from your face to your chest in embarrassment. How do you tell someone you just had your first kiss when it all happened like it was nothing? “It was sudden and I… well— I've never kissed anyone before that.”
You said the wrong thing.
“What?”
“Haze.”
Hazel seems to freeze for a moment, eyes wild and nostrils flaring, the exact expression of someone who is about to freak out. Her face turns evidently red.
“What?”
You rush to stop the spiral she's in: “Haze, it's okay. It's no big deal, seriously.”
“I— I stole your first kiss?” She's completely panicked now, “Oh my god, Y/N, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
You don’t know how to tell her that apologies only make you feel bad, that you wish it wasn’t a regret for her, because after all it wasn’t one for you.
“Sweetheart, please,” you try again, instinctively placing your hand on her arm, “It’s alright. It was good, I can’t think of anyone else who would have treated me so gently like that. And you didn’t know, okay? It wasn’t on purpose.”
Hazel gulps, clearly drowned in guilt, her gaze dropping to where your hand is touching her and back to your face, suddenly shy. You pull away as if you’ve been burned, but neither of you can say anything because what feels like the longest red light in history finally turns green and a car behind you honks and swears loudly.
She clears her throat, turning back to driving:
“I still should have asked anyway.”
You snort: “If you had asked me, I still would have said yes.”
“Oh, okay.”
As if you couldn’t make things any more weirder. Great.
Hazel looks flustered and desperate to break out of the tension that’s settled over the car:
“But,” she mumbles in a perplexed tone, “What about that time you and Sylvie got locked in the pantry on Stella’s birthday? I thought…”
Maybe at this point you should just jump out of this moving car and buy a shovel, since you’re so spectacularly good at digging your own grave.
“We promised to never talk about that again.”
“Right.”
You both only speak again once you’re back in your room and you end up snapping with Hazel when all she does is sit on the bed with her eyes stuck on the floor, a whirlwind of thoughts so obvious in her head that you can almost hear them. You end up stuttering something like ‘you said you’d come over so we could talk and now you’re going to spend the whole time in silence?’
Hazel still looks very uneasy, as if she expects you to change your mind and yell at her at any minute, but she relaxes a little when she notices you letting her guide the conversation at her own pace.
You decide to formulate a simple story just in case your friends decide they want details and ask about it. Yes, you’ve just gotten together a couple days ago; Yes, you’ve liked each other for a long time and were just too much of a coward to admit it; No, you haven’t been on your first official date (yet). Basic and realistic, nothing that would raise suspicions or that you could end up messing, because if there was one thing you knew for certain in all this time knowing each other, it was that Hazel was terrible at sustaining acts for long.
Hazel also makes a point of asking you thousands of times what was okay or not in terms of PDA, checking you for any sign of discomfort that might be being omitted – you said that everything was fine, as long as she asked you or gave some sign first, which she swore she would do.
It's only when Hazel is gathering her things to leave that you ask perhaps the most important question about everything, watching her put the bag on her shoulder and push the hair out of her eyes. She looks beautiful.
"How long do you think this will last, Haze?"
She hums, a little uncertain and suddenly thoughtful: "Until it works out, I guess? I think we'll just have to make sure that it happens fast," she licks her lips, "I... I'll make it up to you for this, okay? For all of this.”
You mumble an agreement, staring at her as she says goodbye and walks away.
You feel too anxious to sleep, your heart pounding against your throat irritably as you roll restlessly over the blankets once more. You come across your desk, where the aquarium with your goldfish swims in circles. Poor thing, you should give it a bigger house, maybe with a den to hide in, just like you want to do now.
You can't stop reliving the moments of the day, every second spent with Hazel comes right back to you. Hands holding, gentle acts, soft gazes, the kiss. The goddamn kiss.
You ponder for a long moment if it would be worth it to enjoy what would come next if PJ actually made a move and you had your fake breakup – which would probably hurt like a real one – so that Hazel would be free to move on. Would you be happy for her? You weren't sure.
You weren't sure of much, but just thinking about them being together in the hallways, acting and touching like you just did a few hours ago for the rest of the year until graduation makes you sick. Would you still be as close as you are now? It might be a little awkward being friends with your ex, especially if her current partner kind of hates you already.
Sighing, you reach for your phone on your desk, scrolling through it to find a spam of texts in your group chat with your friends. You snort, of course they wouldn't stay quiet after the parking lot scene, as if they would miss out on gossip like that.
10 unread messages
annie (with an I)
[guys I've heard the gays gave a show in the exit today]
britt-britt
[they did but y/n wont answer any of my texts and its been hoursss
omg do you think they died on the way back??]
annie (with an I)
[what??? no. definitely not]
slaylvie
[oh maybe she's just too busy with her NEW GIRLFRIEND
stealing the girl all to ysf that was such a queen move fr]
isabeautiful
[she's probably just ignoring us britt it's not like she can't read or smth]
britt-britt
[u sure?
oh ur probably right
wait can u read y/n or are you like that one lady from glee]
Y/N silenced the group.
slaylvie
[now that's just fckng rude.]
You definitely won't reply to anything after this long and chaotic day, especially not about the subject you want to get off your mind, instead, you huff and open the private chat with Isabel after seeing the proud text she sent earlier.
[you've planned all of this since the beginning, didn't you?]
She replies in the next second:
[you only realized it now?]
Hazel keeps her promise of what she said about making it up to you and the next few weeks are uneventful. It’s almost natural how your routine adapts quickly to the new things.
Holding hands in the hallways, sticky notes with sweet words stuck on your locker, good morning and good night texts, arms around each other when you sit down at lunch or at the club, kisses – even though they don’t happen as often as you would like – Isabel even manages to convince you to go on a double date soon and even though Hazel makes a point of touching you or talking loudly about your plans whenever PJ’s around, she doesn’t whine about it to you anymore, which strangely feels like a victory.
A very short-lived victory, since you end up with a chapped lip because of it.
You honestly hadn’t seen it coming. It was just another afternoon of club practice, your meetings had been cut short for a while – the school had to punish you somehow after Huntington – and you’d finally gotten back into the swing of things with the fighting and the exercises and no one had gotten hurt besides a few bruises on their wrists.
Until PJ declared that she would be your partner.
You’d noticed how she’d been acting lately, responding to everyone in her typical passive-aggressive way and glaring at you with a sour expression whenever Hazel was around and finding excuses to touch her whenever possible, a result of all your displays of affection and the gossiping your friends were sure to do when you weren’t hearing.
You thought Hazel would be pleased with this since it was a sign that the plan was working, but she seemed oddly uncomfortable, bringing up the subject less and less. In fact, you’re pretty sure there was once or twice when she simply took your hand and led you somewhere else.
Maybe that gave your stupid heart the false hope you tried so hard not to cling to and made you sigh even more lovingly when you laid eyes on her and it's likely that you weren't the only one who noticed it.
That could explain PJ's loud steps approaching with her fists clenched at her sides as you, Isabel and Hazel tried to reach a consensus on which ice cream shop to go to next weekend, waiting for Josie to finish her round from where she was furthest away to vote too, and it explains her insistence even after you lied and said you had already agreed to go against Annie later – which was also a bad idea, that girl knows how to do more than just throw a few punches.
She didn't take no for an answer and even Hazel seemed hesitant to let you go, pulling you close and trying to convince PJ that maybe it would be better if she went to help some new members with their moves. It didn't work, of course, but the concern in her voice melted your heart a little.
So you've ended up in a circle with your teammates cheering loudly and the first punch that hits you makes your head snap to side with a loud crack, your gaze falling on Mr. G, engrossed in his phone at the back of the court.
Well, you think, at least your funeral won't happen without the supervision of a – partially – responsible adult.
You hit back just as hard as she did, but you end up lying on your back on the mat in pain anyway, listening to your teammates, oblivious to the tension, congratulate PJ on her easy win. Damn, she really took all her amassed anger out on you.
“Are you okay?” Hazel’s worried face fills your vision and you groan as she gently pulls you to sit up, cupping your face gently, “You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll live,” you joke, but she doesn’t seem to find it funny, tilting your chin up to inspect it better, lips pressed into a thin line.
Suddenly, you saw PJ approaching with an expression that failed to not look proudly – if the little smirk on the corner of her mouth said anything – even with the bruises forming that you left on her, she leaned over and patted Hazel on the shoulder, making a provocative comment that you didn't bother to pay attention to, as if she expected Hazel to congratulate her too and that was enough for her expression to change completely. Her forehead furrowed, her nose twitched in disbelief and you could feel the way her hands shook a little with pent-up anger where they descended to your shoulders.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Both you and PJ widened eyes, not expecting the explicit bite in her voice. It was unbelievable that Hazel would be rude to anyone, much less to the shocked girl in front of her.
PJ didn’t seem to really understand why there would be anything wrong with what she just did and that almost made you feel bad for her, but anyone should know better than to tease a stressed-out Hazel.
She coughs, clearly embarrassed:
“Jeez! You never know how to take a joke,” she holds up her hands in placation, looking indignant, before fixing her eyes on you, “We were just playing, it was fun, right?”
If you were less petty, maybe you would have nodded and moved on for the sake of your crush’s potential dream relationship but honestly? It’s hard to give a fuck about any of those things when you think about how swollen and bruised your face will be on the day you’re supposed to have the closest thing to a cliché, cute date before graduation.
“For you, maybe.”
She rolls her eyes and looks like she wants to say something else, but Josie comes over and quickly wraps an arm around her shoulders, apologizing and dragging her away to avoid any further discussion with a grimace on her face. It’s only then that you notice the curious looks of your friends at the scene.
Hazel takes a deep breath, biting her lip nervously and looking suddenly embarrassed, before moving to help you up.
“C’mon,” she clears her throat, “Let’s take care of you.”
Hazel is upset.
She hadn’t been quiet for a single second the entire time you’d arrived at the infirmary, having spent the entire journey there mumbling incoherently. Now she had one hand firmly resting on your knee on the stretcher she’d insisted you take, while the tired-looking nurse tried to explain that none of your injuries were serious enough for anything more than bandages and an ice pack – which you’d already tried to tell Hazel, but to no avail.
“Are you sure she’s okay?” she asked for the millionth time, and you could practically feel the effort the nurse was making not to sigh.
“Yes.” She replied, pulling a box of kids' band-aids from her uniform pocket to give it to you, “She didn’t hit her head when she fell, did she? So all you have to do is clean up the blood and wait for the cuts to heal.”
“Okay, hm-hm,” Hazel nods quickly, effectively dismissing the nurse, “I can do that.”
This time the nurse does sigh and give up, mumbling about not getting paid enough before leaving the room – definitely to get a moment away from the annoying teenagers she's seeing all day – and then you’re alone.
Hazel finally goes quiet and her face scrunches up in concentration as she grabs a damp cloth so she can wipe away the red staining of your face and something twists in your stomach.
She hasn’t spoken directly to you since you left and something twists in your stomach at that.
She’s mad at me, you think.
It was obvious that you couldn’t control yourself, painfully obvious that something was going to happen and that you were going to ruin everything because of your temper and your inability to keep your mouth shut. You made this bed, now it’s time to accept the fact that, first, you suck at making beds, and, second, you have to lie in it. Both figuratively and literally. Well, it's a stretcher, but still.
“I'm sorry, Haze,” you say regretfully, holding her hands working on your face in place so she stops and turns her attention back to you.
“Hm?” She lifts her head looking surprised, as if only then remembering you were there too, “For what?”
You look away embarrassed, biting the inside of your cheek: “I didn't mean to ruin things with PJ back there, I know that she was finally doing something and…”
“Wait,” her eyes widened, “Wait, wait, wait, you think I'm mad at you?”
You blink, hesitant: “You're not?”
“No, of course not!” Hazel grabs your shoulders frantically, “You just got beat up, why would I be mad at you?”
You shrug wordlessly, feeling a weird sensation of a deja-vú and Hazel releases you to rest her hands on the stretcher in exasperation.
“Oh, man,” she sighs. “I'm angry with PJ for what she did and I'm angry at myself for letting it happen.”
“But… I thought you'd like that she got jealous,” you fidget, confused, “She finally made a move, right?”
“Not like that! How would I be happy with her getting so possessive that she decided to take it as an excuse to hit you?” Hazel asks incredulously, looking at you like she's tired of even thinking about it, “That was completely out of line, this is not a PG13 gay version of After.”
You freeze for a second before bursting into laughter, ignoring the burning sensation on your lip that the action causes, and Hazel sits down next to you, seemingly satisfied that she’s wiped the worry from your face.
“Ugh, I don’t know,” she groans, running a hand through her hair looking lost.
“Don’t know what, sweetheart?” you turn to her, shoulders touching.
Hazel shakes her head as if trying to push away the thoughts that are bothering her, busying herself by opening one of the bandages for you:
“If I still want this,” she starts hesitantly, “I thought I wouldn’t mind if she kept being mean to me every now and then as long as she showed me that she liked me more, but I— I don’t want that to happen if it’s hurting you. I don’t want to be with someone who would hurt you.”
Your throat is dry. Hazel looks up to catch your eye and places the bandage on a cut on your chin, her hand stays there and you can hear your heart pounding against your ears.
Does she mean…? You're breathing fast, her face is so close to yours that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. This has to be a dream or some kind of bad joke, maybe you did hit your head and are in a coma right now. You swear everything is in slow motion and there's a cheesy song playing deep inside of your mind. God, if only you hadn't fallen so hard.
You think back to all the moments you've shared so far, years and years of touching and spending time together, learning details about each other and trying to think of the part you missed when Hazel started looking at you like that, does she even know she's doing it? You think, searching deep in your memories, how could you miss that?
Maybe it was earlier this week, when she came up to you happily skipping and handed you a paper flower with the utmost pride she could muster that she had made it herself, because 'You said you always wanted to receive flowers, but you didn't say what kind, so I made you a special one.’
Or days ago, when she started leaving silly little notes stuck to your stuff, even though you saw her all the time; ‘see u later!’ in messy handwriting, ‘have a good day’ scrawled with a cartoon taped to the cover of your math notebook, ‘i'll be thinking of u’ on the locker door she just left you in, a stupid pun written in neon marker just because.
Was it before that? When she kissed you then? Before? Long before?
“Haze,” you call.
When did the possibility of her loving you become real?
“I thought I wanted it,” Hazel murmurs, “But I'm not sure anymore.”
She's going to kiss you. There's no one around now and she's going to kiss you because she wants it, not to show off. And you want it too, more than anything.
You move your hand to find purchase on her chest, grabbing a fistful of the shirt she's wearing. Your noses are brushing now, Hazel’s eyes narrow and you can almost taste her.
Then the nurse walks into the room, dropping the papers she was carrying when she sees the scene and the moment is completely lost.
She shoos you both out of the room, no matter how many stammered excuses you try to give her and you and Hazel trade shocked looks alone in the hallway before laughing as hard as you never did. The sound fills your ears, it’s completely divine. You laugh and laugh and laugh and you’ve never felt so happy, feeling your stomach flutter with butterflies when you feel her hand brush against yours, that she’s still here.
The laughter stops as it steals your breath – it wasn’t the only thing that stole it – and you feel cold where your skin was warm just a second ago, turning your head to find her a few feet away from you.
“Are you alright?” You ask, smiling, feeling light, as if you weighed the same as the paper flower stored in your bag.
She stares at you, hair messy, face red, clothes wrinkled and eyes full of emotion that you can't distinguish with how quickly they pass. You wonder what she's gonna do, if she's going to press you against the wall and kiss you here in this hallway like she wanted before, if she's going to take your hands and tell you that she wasn't sure about things, but wanted to find out with you. Another emotion flashes in her eyes as she takes another step back, the only one you can recognize: regret.
Hazel turns and runs away from there. She leaves.
Luck has been on your side for a long time during all of this, so of course at some point everything would end up going wrong. And you, of course, would end up in the crossfire.
MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (out sometime next week)
Word count: 5.2k
CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of vomiting, drunk!reader, poor decision making while drunk, hangover, angst
Summary: You finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Wanda. And you are not handling it well. This leads to you making some rather poor decisions, and you've yet to realize the extent of the consequences.
A/n: Part three finally here! Sorry for the wait, my life has been a shitshow lol. Happy reading loves!
You wake to soft kisses peppering your skin and the smell of Wanda’s sweet perfume. Your naked bodies are flush against each other, so much so that her long, red hair falls partly over your bare shoulder. When she senses your stirring, she leans over you and places a delicate kiss to your lips.
“Good morning, baby,” she whispers, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning, Wanda,” you barely mumble out, not quite awake yet.
She places a kiss on your neck and nips it a little, causing you to gasp.
“No, Wanda, not yet,” you groan, “s’too early.”
Her kisses only continue, tracing back up your neck to a soft spot behind your ear that she knows you go crazy for.
“Come on, Detka, let me have a little fun,” the redhead muses seductively, “you can just lay there, all pretty and perfect, while I take care of you.”
She slowly starts to caress your skin, and with the added effect of the burning kisses up and down your body, you turn to putty beneath her. Suddenly, Wanda flips you on your back and climbs on top of you, straddling your waist. She cups your cheek and gives you a deep, meaningful kiss. One that you’re rather enjoying, too, until your brain reminds you that this sort of kiss is much too tender for a spring break fling.
“Wanda, wait,” you hesitate, pushing her away a little.
She looks at you, a little concern peeking through her lustful eyes, “What is it, Detka? Is something wrong?”
“I, I need to tell you something first. I won’t feel right otherwise.”
Wanda, sadly, climbs off your lap and sits back against the headboard. She guides you to a similar position and then places her hand on your thigh.
“Wanda….” you pause, “I don’t think I can keep doing this. Sleeping together, I mean.”
Her eyes narrow a little in confusion and she lets out a disbelieving snort, “What? What do you mean? Why? I thought we were both enjoying this.”
“Well, yes, I am. I was. But things have…. gotten too complicated for me.”
Wanda doesn’t respond. Instead, she stares down at her hand on your bare thigh.
“You mean-”
“Wanda, I have feelings for you,” you interrupt.
She quickly pulls her hand away from your thigh, like you’ve burned her. She scrambles off the bed and picks up your shirt off the floor, throwing it to you. She then slips on her own.
“Wanda, what are you doing?”
“Put your shirt on,” she orders, pointing to the discarded item in your lap.
You do as she says and then wait- for her to say something, anything.
“Wanda-”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she tells you harshly, “This was meant to be a meaningless fling. Don’t you understand that?”
Heat grows in your cheeks and shame in your stomach, “I know, Wanda, believe me, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But you’re just so pretty, and smart, and- I caught feelings for you.”
Wanda scoffs and crosses her arms, looking away, “I should’ve known to avoid someone like you.”
“Someone, like me?” You whisper.
“Yes, someone too stupid and immature to handle anything casual. It’s embarrassing, really.”
Hot tears sting your eyes and your stomach aches. “Wanda, what are you saying? This isn’t like you. I didn’t expect you to return my feelings, but I thought you’d be at least kind.”
She laughs coldly, a sound you never thought you’d hear coming from her, “You think you know me? Because we slept together? Baby, you know nothing about me. You’re just someone I fucked.”
Those last words echo in your ears over and over…
You’re just someone I fucked.
Someone I fucked.
Someone I fucked.
You jolt awake, your breathing hard and fast, and your face is wet with tears. You panic for a moment, not entirely sure where you are. Your heart slows a little when you look around and realize that you’re just in Wanda’s room, the woman in question sleeping peacefully beside you.
It had all been a dream.
A horrible, horrible dream.
You’re still shaking, and you know there’s no chance of you falling back asleep. Even though it’s still early, you quietly get out of bed and sweep your discarded clothes up off the floor. You dart from the room across the hall into your own and close the door, breathing heavily. You need to get out of this house. Away from Wanda and her temptations and your fears. You throw on a hoodie and shorts and traipse out to the living room. Your flip flops still lay in a heap by the glass door, so you slip them on and head outside. It’s nice, the beach being only a few steps away from the house. You kick off your shoes and let yourself feel the sand in between your toes. It’s soft but also gritty and grounds you in reality- far away from the nightmare of only a few minutes ago.
You know it isn’t real, but it feels like it- from every touch of her skin on yours to the pain in your heart as she scoffed at you and mocked you. You had dreamt of the worst possible scenario, and it left you rattled to your core.
You try to push it all from your thoughts, letting the crashing waves drown them out and the slowly rising sun distract you. The cotton candy skies and its reflection on the shimmering ocean make you feel as though you’re in a fairytale, where nothing evil or bad can hurt you.
You imagine that in this fairytale world you could be with Wanda. There’d be no college to worry about, the twins wouldn’t feel upset or betrayed, and you could go back to being in that little cottage you’d daydreamed about not that long ago. You suppose to an extent, this dream could be a reality. Yet you have never been an optimist.
What you and Wanda have is special, no doubt. But it is also fleeting, a one time thing, and you doubt you’d be in such close proximity to her ever again. When you left this beach house you’d go back to school, finish your semester, and graduate. She’d go back off to her own life- one that she’s happily settled into- just as you would be about to start your own. Though you could make room for her in yours, Wanda’s life had turned out pretty nice. Pretty close to perfect. And who were you to take that all away?
You decide that you have to get over your silly little crush. What at first seems impossible becomes less so as you think about it. You reckon that once you leave this house, you’ll rarely see Wanda besides at graduation, an occasional visit to see the twins, and maybe the twins’ weddings.
Still, you’d rather be safe than sorry.
*****
At a reasonable hour, you bound back into the house with a pep in your step and a plan in your mind. It’s still early enough that Wanda isn’t out in the kitchen, but not late enough for you to feel bad for what you’re about to do. You make your way down the hall opposite of your room to the master bedroom. Though you quietly open the door, nothing else you do is as subtle. Billy and Tommy, both of whom are big guys, look a little funny all squished together in one bed. You give yourself a running start and leap onto the bed, arms and legs sprawled as you land on top of them. They wake with resounding grimaces, umphs, and quite a bit of cursing.
Tommy shoves your arm roughly, “what the fuck are you doing?”
“Just missed you,” you pout, sticking out your upper lip.
Billy grabs the pillow from under his head and smacks you in the face, “you’re such a pest, you know that? Couldn’t you have bothered us in like,” he checks the clock, “two hours?”
“No,” you huff, “that’s too far away. Anyhow, you should be glad I didn’t wake you up earlier.”
Tommy rolls over to look at you, “Earlier? How long have you been awake?”
You shrug nonchalantly, “Eh, three, four hours?”
“Jesus,” Billy groans, “what’s wrong with you?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“So why’d you have to wake us up?”
“Don’t be such a party pooper,” you tsk, “And anyways, you guys should be thanking me for the great idea I’m about to share.”
Tommy flops down onto his back, “What is it?”
“We….. should go out tonight!” You exclaim.
You are met with unimpressed silence.
“That was the most brilliant idea you just had to wake us up for?” Billy asks you with a sigh.
“Well yes. I mean, it seemed like you two losers had no intention of going out at all on this trip, and I’m pretty sure that would ruin your reputation,” you answer thoughtfully, “so I’m saving you.”
“Fine, fine. We’ll go out,” Tommy tells you. And though he sounds annoyed, you know it's all an act- the smirk in his voice giving him away.
*****
At this point, you’ve lost track of the number of drinks you’ve had as you down a shot of-
Well you can’t remember, but you don’t really care because it gets the job done. Any burning in your throat goes unnoticed at this point in the night, and you cheer loudly as you slam the glass back down onto the bar.
Tommy and Billy cheer along with you as they too finish their shots.
“Let’s go dance,” Billy shouts over the music.
Both of them being taller than you, they sandwich you in the middle, each with a hand on your shoulder so they don’t lose you in the crowd. It’s hot and sticky, the place is crowded with bodies, and the loud music blaring through the speakers is shit, but you’ve never felt better.
“I’m so glad we decided to go out,” you yell.
Tommy bends nearer to your mouth, “WHAT?”
“I said, I’m so glad we decided to go out,” you repeat. Then, you stumble, having been shoved by some stupid person behind you.
Tommy catches you by the arms and then moves you, putting himself in between the stranger and you. You, really, don’t even notice, and keep swaying along to the music happily. The base vibrates in your chest and skull. That, combined with all the booze in your body, has made you forget- whatever it is you’re supposed to forget tonight.
Something about Wanda, maybe?
Wanda.
You shake your head, clearing away any hazy thoughts about the redhead, and reach into your back pocket. You pull out a shooter that you had stored away for a special occasion, and now feels like the right moment. It's banana flavored- your least favorite- but you know it will do the job. You unscrew the cap, tossing it on the floor somewhere, and then throw your head back, barely letting it touch your tongue as you swallow. You discard the bottle then too, and enjoy the warmth that spreads down to your toes.
“How many have you had tonight?” Billy calls out to you.
You shrug shoulders unseriously and giggle, “I don’t know, but I feel realllllllyyyyy good right now.”
“Well, let’s not have any more tonight, okay?” He replies.
You cross your arms and pout at him, “You’re not my dad, Billy. I can do whatever I want.”
“If you can get through a whole sentence without slurring your words, you can do whatever you want,” he retorts.
“Easy peasy,” you reply, throwing your hand to the side. “See, I just did it right now.”
You in fact, did not. Not that you’d ever know. You hadn’t just slurred your words, you’d also mixed them up, spitting out some phrase that really didn’t make sense.
But the twins know they won’t be able to prove that to you, so instead, they distract you.
“See any pretty girls here tonight?” Tommy asks you casually.
You nod lazily and laugh, “Oh, yes. There was this one girl by the bathroom door that looked really good in her skirt,” you slur, “I would totally go for her. But I can’t because I-”
Even your drunk brain is conscious enough to stop yourself from saying what you were about to: “because I have feelings for Wanda.”
Instead, drunk you does the best you can, and you slap your hands dramatically over your mouth.
“Oops,” you say, giggling.
Tommy smirks at you a little and laughs, “What were you going to say.”
You wag your finger at him and shake your head, “Nuh-uh. Can’t tell, it’s a secret.”
You giggle again.
“Oh, come on,” Billy prods, poking your side, “we’re your best friendssss.”
You shriek and move away, bumping into someone behind you. You don’t realize it, so Tommy apologizes on your behalf and rests a hand on your back.
“This,” you say, hiccuping, “is a secret I will take to my grave. Scout’s honor.”
“You’re not a scout,” Billy reminds you, trying to suppress his smile.
You scoff and roll your eyes at him, though no one can take you very seriously, “It’s a saying, Billy, DUHHHHHH.”
He raises his hands in mock defense, “Right, right, my bad.”
“You sure you can’t tell us?” Tommy asks pleadingly.
You shake your head again and mimic zipping your lips, tossing away the key.
Before he can try to persuade you again you suddenly shout, “let’s go get another drink!”
You take off towards the bar and, surprisingly, for being smaller than both of them, you’re really fast.
*****
You feel like you’re on death’s doorstep.
The light that filters in through your blinds burns your eyes, your mouth feels like cotton, and your head feels as though there are a million tiny people smashing hammers into your skull. Every bone in your body feels like lead and your stomach muscles scream as you try to sit up. When you do, your head spins and you think for a second that you’re going to throw up.
Last night was a blur, and you’re not totally sure how you got back to your bed, in your pajamas, with a trash can at the foot, and a glass of water on the nightstand. Through your blurry vision you also notice two tiny pills beside the water and a note.
Take these. It’ll help.
Wanda
So that’s how. Wanda had taken care of you. But how much had she taken care of you? The last thing you remember is leaving with the boys, and then- nothing.
You achieved what you wanted- to forget for a while- but the toll on your body is making you wonder if it was a good choice in the first place.
You reach out and grab the pills off the nightstand, popping them into your mouth and then taking a sip of the water. You finish the rest of your glass with slow, tiny sips, your stomach unable to handle anything more.
When you finish your water, you quite literally drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. Luckily, there are no windows in there, and with the lights off, you’re emerged in blissful darkness. After you relieve yourself, you stumble into an icy cold shower and quickly wash the grime from last night’s ventures off your body. It’s the quickest shower you’ve ever taken, and when you’re done your teeth are chattering, the small towel doing little to keep you warm. Still, you feel just a little better, so the sacrifice was worth it.
Back in the room you don sweats and then crawl around on the floor looking for your sunglasses. Relief washes over you when you find them and put them on, the searing rays diminishing in severity. Even if you feel better, you know that you look like a wreck. And even if you didn’t look like a wreck, everyone in the house knows that you are. So the shame is present nonetheless as you trudge down the hall into the kitchen.
The boys look in much better shape than you, if not still a little worn out, and are sitting at the table eating breakfast. The scene is unusually quiet as Tommy shoves toast into his mouth while scrolling on his phone, and Wanda and Billy chat quietly over their coffee. When you walk in they all look up at you, worry crossing their features.
“Hey kid, how are you feeling?” Billy asks quietly.
You grimace a little and plop down in the seat next to him, giving him a thumbs down.
“Not surprised. You went a little crazy last night,” Tommy tells you.
“I don’t really remember anything,” you admit, “but I can piece together enough by the way I’m feeling right now.”
“By the end of the night, you could barely walk, nothing you were saying made sense, and you threw up in some bushes on the way home,” he says, worry evident in his tone.
You rub your hands across your face, “oh shit. I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad. I’m sorry.”
Billy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay, it happens sometimes. And anyways, all that matters is we got you back here safe.”
“And mom insisted on taking care of you last night, so I’m sure you’ll be back to better in no time,” Tommy adds reassuringly.
You look up at Wanda and give her the smallest of smiles, “Thank you, Wanda.”
Though she smiles back at you, it doesn’t meet her eyes, and you know instantly that something is wrong.
“Of course, honey. Now have something to eat.”
She pushes a plate of dry toast towards you and your stomach twists a little.
“I- I don’t think I can.”
“You have to, honey,” the redhead replies, a slight scolding tone to her voice.
You pick up a piece with shaking hands and take the tiniest of bites. You chew for what feels like forever and the bread scrapes your throat as you swallow.
Wanda waits until you finish a whole piece of toast and then she stands, “I’m going to go get dressed.”
Your eyes follow her down the hall, and she doesn’t look back at you once. Your stomach turns again, and you’re not sure if it’s from anxiety or your hangover this time.
You’re lost in a trance, staring into the void down the hall when Billy clears his throat. You turn and look at him. Both of your friends have matching serious expressions.
“Okay, now that my mom is gone I feel comfortable asking, what the fuck happened?”
“Well you know better than me-“ you mumble.
“That’s not what we mean,” Tommy interrupts, “you’ve never gotten that drunk in your life. You always have self-control. So what the fuck changed?”
“Is something going on?”
“Because if there is, you know you can tell us, right?”
“I mean I was so worried about you by the end of the night.”
“We both were. Mom too.”
“She insisted she be the one to watch you in case something happened.”
“And-“
The twins are spitting information at you so fast that your head starts to swim. You can barely process what one has said before the other starts again.
“Wait, wait, wait,” you say, putting your hands up, “slow down, please. When you guys talk like this, I can barely understand you sober, let alone hungover.”
Billy huffs, “sorry, sorry.”
“We’re just worried about you,” Tommy tells you.
You sigh and reach out, grabbing both of their hands, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. And I thank you both for looking after me. But seriously, I’m okay. I just… went a little too crazy last night. Spring break curse or something…”
Tommy squeezes your hand, “Are you sure? Because you seemed a little off all of yesterday.”
Yesterday…. You had been off. But you thought no one had noticed.
“Just thrown off with the new schedule this week,” you lied.
Billy hums suspiciously and kisses the side of your head, “well if there is anything you want to talk about, please tell us, okay?”
You smile at them and roll your eyes- not that they can see it with your sunglasses on- “yeah, yeah, okay.”
They stand and tell you that they’re going to go get ready.
As they leave Tommy points to your plate, “And finish your toast, goddamnit!”
*****
You stand outside Wanda’s door for far longer than you’d like to admit. Finally, you knock softly and you hear a faint, “come in.”
Wanda is by her vanity, putting on her jewelry when you slowly crack open the door.
“Uh hey, Wanda, sorry to bother you, I just, wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night.”
She clasps her necklace into place before turning to you, “It was no problem, honey. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
You hesitate a little and sit down on the edge of her bed. She turns back to grab her earrings, and though her back is facing you, she is looking at you through the mirror.
“I also uh, wanted to ask if you were okay. You just seemed a little…. upset…. this morning and I’m worried.”
“Hmmm? Me? Upset?” She asks, distractedly, “no, no. I’m just tired is all. Staying up all night to take care of someone will do that to you.”
“Yeah, right, sorry,” you mutter quietly.
Wanda is silent and you feel a palpable tension in the air. But not a good kind.
She slides on a few bracelets and then turns back around to face you, leaning back against the light wood furniture, “Anything else?”
You shake your head a little too vigorously and stand up, heading towards the door. Your stomach is all in knots, and you wonder what could’ve possibly happened for things to feel this wrong all of a sudden. Had something happened when you were drunk?
“You know,” Wanda suddenly says, and you stop, hand on the doorknob.
“It really shouldn’t be you who is worried about me.”
You turn around and look at her. She’s maintained the same nonchalant pose, but her face is much more serious.
“What do you mean?”
“Well I’m not the one who was drunk out of their mind last night. It’s really me that should be worried about you.”
You walk back over to the bed and sit down, “Why? Wanda, it was a mistake. A one night thing where I got a little too crazy. It happens to the best of us.”
Wanda walks closer to you, close enough that she sort of towers over you, “Detka, you were blackout drunk. You were puking your guts out all night, you couldn’t stand, and you were rambling about a bunch of things that didn’t really make sense. It just didn’t seem like the type of thing that you’d do.”
You look down at your hands in your lap and pick at your fingernails, unsure what to say next.
“I mean, I know I haven’t known you very long,” Wanda says as she sits down next to, “but deep in my core I just know something is off. That you’re hiding something. You can tell me, you know.”
In this moment, you’re ready to spill your guts to her. She just smells so good, and her voice is so gentle, and she’s sitting so close to you, you’re pretty sure you’d do whatever she asks.
Instead you say, “I don’t know, I think you know me pretty well.”
You can tell it’s not the answer she’s expecting by the confusion that clouds her face, “what do you mean?”
You try to hold back a smirk, “well, you know my body pretty intimately at least, wouldn’t you agree?”
Wanda lets out a disbelieving giggle and your stomach erupts in butterflies, “you are something else, Detka. Here we are trying to have a serious conversation, and you go off making lewd innuendos.”
You shrug casually and look at her. Her eyes are teeming with amusement and you’d do anything to have her looking at you like that all the time.
“Am I wrong?”
She scoffs and squeezes your thigh playfully, “cocky, Detka. Maybe I don’t know you so much after all.”
“I’m full of secrets.”
“Well that I know,” Wanda says more seriously as she cups your face, “and it’s those secrets I’m trying to get out of you.”
She’s so close to you now and you want to kiss her so badly. But you don’t.
“It’s no fun if I give all my secrets away. What would I have then?”
“Trust.”
“Wanda,” you sigh, “I already trust you.”
Her thumb rubs soothing circles on the side of your face, “then why don’t you just tell me?”
You can’t help but lean into her touch.
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m a divorcée and single mother with twin, adult sons who happen to have a very pretty friend that I slept with. I know complicated.”
“I- I don’t know, Wanda.”
-Wanda's POV-
Wanda is aware that this game of cat and mouse she’s playing with you is pointless because she already knows your secret.
She just wants you to confess it.
Sober.
(flashback)
She hadn't been lying when she'd said that you were very drunk last night.
After you and the boys had told her you were going out, she decided to wait up until you all had arrived home safely. Though you were all grown adults, she still couldn’t help but worry.
So Wanda waited up for you three on the couch in the living room, dozing in and out of consciousness as old tv programs hummed on in the background. Around two a.m., Wanda woke to not-so-quiet thuds and cursing. She found you all at the front door, the boys on either side of you, your arms flung across each of their shoulders. Tommy was crouched down trying to take your shoes off, but your knees were bent at such an awkward angle, so much so that you weren’t even standing, that he was failing miserably.
Billy looked over at the sound of Wanda’s footsteps and cringed, “sorry mom, did we wake you?”
“No, moya lubov,” she answered with a quick wave of her hand, “I waited up for you, just in case.”
“Thanks mom,” Tommy said, grunting through the effort of trying to keep you up. “You can go to sleep now though, we’re back home safe and okay.”
Wanda eyed you warily, “she doesn’t look all that okay. What happened?”
Billy shook his head just as confused as Wanda, “I don’t know. She just got really drunk. I swear we were watching her but somehow, she still got this bad.”
“Not- drunk,” you mumbled under your breath.
They all ignored you.
“Why don’t you let me take it from here, boys. You two go get your rest,” Wanda said quietly.
“Mom, no, she’s our friend. We’ll watch her. Anyways, you need your sleep,” Tommy insisted.
Wanda cupped his cheek and pecked his forehead before doing the same to Billy.
“I really don’t mind, boys. And anyways, it’s better if I watch over her. I’m sober, so if something happens, I can take care of it.”
When Wanda put her mind to something, there was no point in arguing with her. The boys knew this, so they resigned, carefully handing you off to their mother.
“Goodnight, mom,” they said in unison, trudging off down the hall.
With you in her arms, she guided you down the hall, carrying your weight like it was nothing (it isn’t to her hehe). She took you down to the bathroom and sat you on the cold, tile floor. She slid down next to you and made sure you were propped up against the wall comfortably. Your eyes were glossy, and your head lolled to the side on your shoulder.
“Had fun tonight?” Wanda asked you.
You murmured out what she assumed was a yes.
“Maybe a little too much fun from the looks of it,” she added.
You didn’t seem to hear her, and only giggled.
Wanda looked at you with a small smirk, “what’s so funny?”
“You’re so pretty, Wanda,” you said, sighing.
“Thank you, honey. You’re pretty too.”
You sighed exasperatedly, like Wanda was missing some important point.
“No, you don’t get it. You’re like reallyyyyyyyyy pretty.”
Wanda blushed a little, and she was glad you were too drunk to notice.
“So what happened tonight?” She asked, “why did you get so drunk?”
You shrugged your shoulders and giggled, “I don’t know. I wasn’t drunk, and then I was.”
“But this all seems like a bit much, honey.”
You didn’t respond, so she leaned forward and tucked a stray hair out of your face. This got your attention.
Wanda repeated herself, “why did you get so drunk?”
This time, you did respond. But it was a bunch of mumbles.
“What did you say?” She prodded gently.
You huffed, and Wanda didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed.
“Feelings.”
“Feelings?” Wanda repeated, “what do you mean?”
You groaned and slumped forward, resting your head on your knees.
“I was feeling feelings.”
Wanda reached out and tapped your shoulder, “can you sit up for me? I can’t understand you when you sit like that.”
You obliged and shuffled forward, resting your arms on the toilet seat and your head on your arms.
“This better?” You slurred.
“Yes, thank you, honey,” she answered kindly.
“You want to tell me about what feelings you were feeling?”
Though your head stayed resting on your arms, you shook it vigorously, and Wanda couldn’t help but find it cute the way your cheeks squished against your arm.
“You can trust me, baby,” she told you sweetly.
You contemplated this for a moment. Though a moment for you was many moments in sober time.
“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you. But you can never speak of this.”
Wanda nodded. She had to admit, she was pretty curious about what you were going to say.
You beckoned Wanda closer to you. She complied, but you only motioned at her again to come closer. It was not until her face was inches away from yours that you finally whispered, “I was feeling feelings for you, Wanda.”
Wanda’s heart beat erratically in her chest at your confession. The words echoed in her head over and over again.
(back to present)
She hears them again now, as you sit in front of her anxiously, and finally, soberly, say what drunk you already confessed last night.
Wanda doesn’t say anything. Or more like, you don’t give her the chance to. Instantly, you begin to nervously fill the silence.
“There, I said it. I have feelings for you, Wanda. And I'm sorry. I know that’s not how this was supposed to go. That it was just supposed to be some casual fling. But I just couldn’t help it. And I know you don’t feel the same way, but, yeah.”
It is silent again for a moment, and you look back down at your lap anxiously.
Finally, Wanda says something.
“I never said that.”
Your head shoots up and you look at her, “what?”
“I never said if I do or don’t have feelings for you. In fact, you never even asked.”
Your lip trembles a little, but you look Wanda straight in the eyes and say, “well, do you?”
Prompt: Heeeey! Could I request Wanda x Reader where the reader is a total goofy and immature jackass, like a bad boy/girl personna but has feelings for Wanda (and vice versa) and on one particular small mission the reader will have to step up its game and help out the team, especially Wanda. Can be angsty, fluffy and a bit smutty. Bonus for some dirty talk. Thank you 😘😘
Warnings: Injury, vague violence, SMUT!!
Words: 4312
A/N: I don’t think I get bonus points for dirty talk but I tried. I swear I did…
Grunting as your back hit the mat, you stared up at Natasha with a cheeky grin. “Well, if you wanted me on my back, you should have said something.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, offering you a hand. You accepted the gesture, letting her pull you upright and onto your feet. “Can you at least pretend to be serious while we train?”
“I’m serious,” you snickered. “I’m the most serious person in the room!”
UM GUYS I JUST FINISHED MY EXAM AND I HAD THIS INSANE GAY THOUGHT ABOUT BESTFRIENDS'S MOM WANDA
Ok stay with me here (this won't be proofread I'm in a rush) (red is Wanda pink is reader)
imagine sitting on the couch with wanda waiting for your bsf to come back and there's just so much tension because both you and Wanda like each other (it was pretty obvious when you practically begged her to take you the other day but Wanda was insisted that it's wrong) so you just risk it all and straddle her all of a sudden holding her face in your eyes so she's looking straight at you
"y/n what- what the fuck are you doing"
"come on ms maximoff please you know you want it too I need you please" you say whispering in her ear as she heavily starts panting
"we can't y/n you know we can't it's wrong" she says firmly her voice shaking with each word as she tightly holds your hips in place
"please mommy I need you so bad do you know how hard it is for me to see you everyday and not drop to my knees to beg you?" holding her jaw firmly in your hand you say looking into her eyes
Wanda's hands holds your hips tighter "don't call me that please" she pants louder
"please it can be our little secret please mommy I'll be so good for you"
Wanda lightly moans, holding herself back from ruining you right there she pulls at your hair yanking your head back "fuck this" she says as she kisses you passionately she pulls you down from her lap laying you down on the couch getting on top of you "how long have you been fantasizing about this moment huh?"
"oh you have no idea" you say as you kiss her back,
both of you freezed as you heared the front door open, Wanda quickly gets back to where she was sitting and both of you fix yourself as your bestfriend enters the room
"you guys look like you just saw a ghost" your bsf chuckles making you laugh nervously
"oh we were just watching this scary movie um did you bring the things I asked you to sweetie?" Wanda covers up as she stands up and walks towards the kitchen
let me know if y'all want a one shot (maybe a series 👀) on this I have a name too 👀
blakekathryn
annaxmalina
stormborns
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
