Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Synopsis: You had told yourself that words couldn't hurt you. You had convinced yourself that you were strong enough to endure the challenges life threw at you. You were wrong.
TW: Suicidal thoughts, implied suicide, angst, dark!ish Natasha if you squint.
Your head was pounding, and you stroked your forehead, trying to soothe the throbbing pain. Tears stained your cheeks, your mascara smudged and blood dripping out of a cut from your arm. You brought your knees up to your chest, hiccupping sobs as you desperately tried to calm down. You couldn't bear to let Natasha see you like this.
The thought of Natasha lead you to hyperventilate even more. Just imagining the look of disappointment on her face was enough to have you in tears. You scowled, hating your desperate need for validation from others. You cupped your face in your hands, wiping away your tears.
It was stupid. Attacking a random stranger. You had soiled your own reputation, and had affected Natasha's as well. It had become a regular occurrence; people insulting you on the streets. But after last night's horrible date and the string of body-shaming texts that had been sent from strangers, you were in no mood to be insulted.
You had known from the very beginning that Natasha had deserved better than you. You were a mess, with crippling anxiety and your depressing self. You sometimes wondered what Natasha had seen in you.
You reached for your phone, tapping on the pink and orange ombre app, your eyes fixed on your recent post. You quickly deleted it, and pondered on whether or not to delete your account entirely.
Just then, another notification came through. And another. And another.
None of them were positive; they were the opposite. Another body-shaming comment, another comparison leaving you insecure. You had been educated at a young age about what social media could do to you, but you had ignored your parents' words. Oh, how you wished you had listened now.
Your train of thought travelled back to your suicidal thoughts. Would anyone care if you disappeared? The media certainly wouldn't. You weren't even sure if Natasha loved you anymore, after today's incident and the countless other times you made a fool of yourself.
A knock on your door jolted you back to reality.
"Detka? Are you okay? What's going on?"
Natasha's soothing voice didn't belong in the horrendous mess you had made of your life. She deserved to be somewhere else, somewhere she deserved to go.
"I'm fine," you hiccupped, your voice quivering involuntarily.
"Please tell me what's going on."
You swallowed thickly at the sound of Natasha's voice. How gentle she sounded. How calm she could be. She was the exact opposite of you. You were reckless, and didn't think things through. How you were together, you'd never know.
"Nat, I'm fine," you whispered, banging your head against the door.
"Please."
Giving in, you reluctantly opened the door handle, and was met with a pair of cerulean eyes. You mentally prepared yourself for the long lecture, and the guilt that was to follow.
"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your voice barely audible.
Natasha caressed your cheek, her eyes softening. "I just want you to tell me what's going on."
You shook your head, backing away until the back of your legs hit your bed. You folded your arms, shaking your head.
"I'm sorry," you said again.
Natasha eyed you, her forehead creased in worry. "For what?"
"For not being good enough."
"You're good enough. You'll always be good enough; you're better than good. You're perfect," Natasha rambled, sitting down beside you. Her hands tugged at your arm, and you plopped down on the bed beside her.
"No, I'm not," you argued. "I'm a shit person and we both know it. You deserve so much better."
"Y/N -"
"Please, Natasha, don't lie to yourself. I... I'm a mess. I can't take even a bit of criticism, I'm reckless, and I'm stupid. I never thing my actions through, and no matter how hard I try, I'm never good enough. I'll never be."
"Don't say that," Natasha said.
"It's true," you whispered.
Natasha wrapped an arm around your shoulder, running her hand through your hair as you silently sobbed. It was pathetic, but you found comfort in that moment. Knowing that someone cared about you.
Yet, even at that moment, your thoughts got to you. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve her warm embrace and welcoming arms. Your mind trailed off the the many other great people that you knew that would be a much better match for Natasha.
You closed your eyes, and shoved Natasha away, before standing up.
"Natasha," you said. "You deserve better."
Natasha's eyes widened, shock flashing across her features. "Y/N, what are you saying?"
"I'm... not going to keep the privilege of being your girlfriend anymore. Nat, you deserve so much better. And I'll never be able to satisfy you."
You stood up and trudged to the door.
"Y/N, please."
Gulping, you opened the door, and let yourself out. "I'm sorry, Nat. I love you."
Natasha's face morphed into one of anger, her brows furrowing. "You're breaking up with me, Y/N? Seriously?"
"I'm sorry," you breathed.
"Well done. You've officially pushed away everyone that's ever given a fuck about you."
With that, Natasha stood up and brushed past you. You winced and rubbed your arm, trying your best to stop the pain shooting up your arm.
You took a moment to collect yourself, before walking out of the house, your car keys in your hand. The Volkswagen beeped as you unlocked it, and you secured yourself into the car, fresh tears still streaming down your face.
And then you drove, to the only place you knew. The place where you'd gone to when life got tough, the place where you had made life-changing decisions.
Magnolia's Cliff.
The car ride was silent, and you were wary of the cameras flashing and the people pointing and snickering. You ignored them. There was no point in acknowledging them, not when the media would soon realize that they had finished their work. They had finally pushed you to the very edge.
You slipped out of your car, slamming the door shut and dropping the keys on the concrete. You walked towards the edge, your eyes blazing with determination.
And there you stood, at the very edge of the cliff, your eyes cast down towards the unknown below the cliff, covered by a layer of fog.
Meanwhile, Natasha put your phone down, her mouth agape, tears pearling in her eyes, guilt clawing at her insides. Finally, she stood up, and ran towards her car, her car keys jingling in her hand. She aggressively pulled the car door open and sat in the driver's seat, her hands clenching the wheel as if her life depended on it.
"I'll save you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice an octave lower. "I'll kill anyone who's in my way. I'm coming to get you."
At the edge of the cliff, you stood.
"Don't."
You whipped your head around to face a stranger. His skin was olive and his aquiline nose was coated in grease, a couple of freckles dotted across his nose. You turned your head back around.
"I don't have anything else to live for," you said.
"I thought that too. And I -"
The man was interrupted by a gunshot, and you swiveled around, fear creeping up on your features.
A certain redhead stood beside him, a gun in her hand. Her mascara now matched yours, and her dark red lipstick was smudged. A soft smile tugged at her lips when she saw you.
"Natasha?"
Your eyes wandered back to the cliff's edge, and back to Natasha.
"Y/N, please. Don't do it."
You shook your head, fresh tears springing out of your eyes. "I'm sorry."
