Tags: Porn With Lots of Plot, Soft Smut, Black Widow!Natasha, Assassin!Reader, Crude Humor, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Marital Problems, Subpar French, Angst, Fluff, Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU, Graphic Injuries, Mentions of Vomiting, R Being Gay All Around, Nat Seems Like a Bitch But is Ride and Die for Her Wife, 18+ Audience
So slow that at first, you didn’t notice that it was happening until it was too late. It crept like a shadow. The distance. The silence. The way that something wedged itself between you and her even though you couldn’t put a name on it. Things weren’t always like this. At one point, your wife was your best friend. She was the best part of the morning and the best way to end the day. Your day hinged on her smile, on the way she told you about her life when you shared cups of tea with her. There were moments when you truly loved her…
...and then, there were moments like these. Ones where you wanted to throttle her neck. Lovingly, of course.
Today, Natasha Romanoff was more of a roommate than a wife. She was a person that knew the more intimate parts of you and still left the bed ice cold. At some point, her words had become monosyllabic. The conversations were shallow. Where there was once intimacy, there was now a gaping space between you both that no bridge could gap. You supposed that it wasn’t all Nat’s fault. It took two to tango, and it took two to make the relationship work. You knew that, which was why you couldn’t completely put the blame on her. Life was getting in the way, like it always did. As of late, work was more demanding than usual. More time abroad meant less time with the missus. It didn’t really give you time to communicate, or to see her. There were some days where all you could do was send her a text when you were away from her for several weeks at a time. Natasha did the same whenever she went on her work trips. You could own up to that. You could admit, readily, that the distance that hooked its teeth into you like a parasite didn’t get here by accident. However, what you couldn’t understand was why every effort that you made to get closer to her was immediately blue-balled.
It was insane how most days felt like you were caressing a brick wall where a human body should be. Whistling air had more of a response than she did. Every time you greeted Nat and asked her how her day was, she would always respond with “good”. Nothing more. Nothing less. Conversations consisted of the weather and of stocks. Never in your life had you owned a stock. You could better understand calculus than learn whatever the hell a stock was. Every interaction was so… impersonal. It was like exchanging pleasantries with a neighbor and not coming home to your wife. It was years of this, of this devolution of your marriage. Of pointless talks and unsaid words. It broke down, piece by piece, until it landed you here. In marriage counseling.
You were sitting beside Nat, and she was as poised as ever. She wore a crisp, black pants suit, one that conformed to every inch of her muscular body. Not a single red hair was out of place, and she wore a mixture of black and gold makeup around her eyes to bring out the green color in her irises. She smiled easily, relaxed and within her element. You wore a blue dress shirt with two of the buttons undone to show off some of your tattoos on your upper chest. It was just as clean and pressed as Nat’s outfit, with tailored black slacks and simple shoes. This was what things were turning into. You, her, and a shrink.
“What brings you in today?” Dr. Banner asked.
That was a great question. Why were you here? It wasn’t like you cared. You’ve long since accepted this relationship for what it was: dead. You gained nothing from being here. At the same time, you wouldn’t lose anything either. The only reason why divorce wasn’t on the table was because your financial and physical life was so entwined with Nat’s, that it would be a bitch to sort out legally. You didn’t have the desire to go through that, and you knew that Natasha felt the same or she would have proposed divorce herself a long time ago.
“I don’t believe that we need to be here,” you answered.
Dr. Banner was an older man, one ravaged by a rough life or the passage of time. You couldn’t tell. Either way, he looked exhausted in more ways than one. His salt and pepper hair sat heavily in a thick mop of unruly curls on his head. You could see the slight bags beneath his eyes and behind simple glasses. His brown eyes were dull and slightly blood shot. He wore a simple white, button-down shirt, khaki-colored slacks, and shoes. His office was simple and, yet, expensive. On the walls hung multiple and various PhDs. They were all different, all of them encompassing different subjects of academics. There was one for psychology and biochemistry. You even saw one for nuclear physics, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was more of a hobby than a day job to him. With degrees like that, there was no way that Dr. Banner was listening to people bitch and moan about their marital problems.
He had three massive bookshelves, all ceiling-to-floor length, and all filled with hefty and thick textbooks. On his desk sat some knickknacks, like fidget toys for moments when he felt restless. Behind him was a coffee pot with coffee that looked like it sat in there for way too long. In the corner was a stainless-steel, smart mini fridge, one that you could easily hack if you wanted to fuck with him. Dr. Banner's microwave rested on top, just as lavish and expensive looking. On the opposite far corner was a desk dedicated to paperwork that rested neat and tidy in their folders. At least you and Nat weren’t the only fucked up couple out there. You could make out the various last names written in his handwriting, and he seemed to be a very popular therapist. Of course, before coming here, you looked him up and saw the stellar reviews that were left for his practice. Someone went as far as to call him a “miracle worker” and you wanted to scoff. If he, somehow, managed to save your relationship, then you would call him Jesus because he would have performed a literal miracle.
He looked at you first, his eyes seeming to observe you as they shifted up and down minutely. Then, his gaze turned towards Natasha, doing the same as he assessed the situation and what exactly he was about to get himself into. Seconds passed before Dr. Banner nodded and came to a conclusion. It was like he understood what was happening, like he’s seen this a million times before. He cleared his throat and slipped his glasses off before resting them on the polished wood of his expensive desk.
“Let’s start with something easy. How long have you been married?”
“Nine years,” you answered.
“Ten.”
Natasha was still seated easily in her chair with her hands folded into her lap. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t indifferent. Natasha wasn’t enjoying herself, nor did she seem to hate the idea of being here. For once, she was hard to read, and the idea of that made something hot bristle in your chest. When she corrected you, it was with a neutral tone and a straight face.
“Nine years,” you tried again.
“Ten,” she immediately corrected.
You looked at her, and she looked at you, meeting your gaze without so much as a flinch. Without saying or doing anything, she dared you to say something else, to try and correct her even when she believed herself to be in the right. You sighed, conceding, when to you, it wasn’t even that serious. Of all the things to fight about, this was where Nat wanted to stand her ground?
“About nine to ten years,” you relented uneasily.
Dr. Banner didn’t say anything. Not immediately. He observed the dynamic between you two, his eyebrow raised inquisitively as he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them.
“And how did you meet?”
At that, Natasha smiled fondly. Her lips quirked into something shy and reserved, something you hardly saw these days, as she looked at her hands in her lap. You couldn’t help but do the same as you reminisced. The smile that graced your features was genuine and heart felt. It almost felt like yesterday, when things were easy and simple.
***Paris, France: About Nine to Ten Years Ago***
The city was an utter mess. Explosions rocked through the atmosphere. Concrete, dust, and debris belched into the sky, smothering the sunlight from view. People were running. Screams and yells filled the air as the sounds of feet stampeding down the streets rivaled against the sounds of abject terror. Paris was nothing but catastrophe and conundrum, and it was all your fault. You’d just assassinated their president, and the police force and the National Gendarmerie were storming the streets in full force, barking out orders left and right. You? You were sitting at the bar and staring at your phone, watching as your bank account updated. Over five hundred thousand dollars were deposited into it, and you sipped on your vodka as sirens filled the air. Behind the bar, the bartender looked uncomfortable. His eyes looked at everything except you and inwardly, you smiled. Good. You were just another clueless tourist. You motioned towards him to get his attention.
“Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” you asked, pretending to feign confusion. He blanched at your accent when you purposefully made it horrible.
In this case, the best way to blend in was to stick out. Playing the part of a foreigner trying to fit in was the best way to do just that.
“Le président vient d'être assassiné. Ils recherchent une femme seule.”
A single woman, huh? That presented a problem. It was just you, and you pocketed your phone right as a group of police officers entered the bar and searched the area. Luckily, there were more people than just you and the bartender. Others came here when they decided that not being a part of the panicked frenzy that was outside was their best bet at remaining safe. So, you had some time to come up with a plan, but not much.
If you ran now, you’d look guilty. If you let them take you in, you would be utterly fucked. Though you were dressed like a tourist, you still had most of your gear on you. That included your gun and the detonator to the series of bombs that you placed. Not smart, if you were honest, but you expected more security and a fight on the way out. The fact that the president was in there alone was either a huge mistake on their part, or a stroke of luck for you. Your extraction ride wasn’t set to show up until 24 hours from now. Unfortunately, you had nothing but time. For now, it was just you and the hope that you could keep yourself alive.
You turned to grab your drink as you considered what you were going to do, when she entered the bar. What you noticed first was her red hair. It was like a fiery halo around her head, billowing just above her shoulders as the curls bounced in the shifting breeze. What you noticed next were her eyes. They were sharp, attentive. A green like you’d never seen before. They scanned the room, taking in everything in a matter of a few seconds. Lastly, you noticed her dress. It was very out of place given the situation. Unless she was out on a date, that suddenly got cut very short because of you, wearing a cocktail dress in the middle of the day was unheard of. It was nothing frilly or flashy. It was a simple black. Nothing more. No decorations or anything that would draw the eye to it, for that matter. It had long sleeves that stretched down the length of her arms and ended just past her wrists. Its only defining characteristic was the slit that traveled from the floor up to her thigh. It left one flawless and muscular thigh on display as she stood in the entrance. An officer was shouting at her in French, his hand wrapped tightly around her arm, but she paid him no mind as she looked around the room. Finally, her eyes landed on you, and in this weird moment of synchronicity, it was like you both came to the same conclusion, like you both drew the same plan. You downed the rest of your drink, inconspicuously readjusted your gun in its holster, and stood up to approach her.
“Excusez-moi,” you said to the police officer.
He turned to look at you, his eyebrows rising in shock like he was just noticing you there for the first time. You slipped your hand seamlessly into hers, which she took, and she excused herself from him to stand by your side. It was natural, slipping into a role so effortlessly that you wondered if she’d done this before. She leaned against you and kissed your cheek while offering you a blinding smile. It actually made your heart flip in your chest.
“Elle est ma femme. Arrêtez s'il vous plaît.”
The officer snatched his hand away from her like she was on fire, his eyes shifting between you and her, like seeing two women together was so unheard of. You met his eyes evenly, inviting him to say something more as he stuttered.
“Je suis désolé,” he mumbled before turning on his heel and exiting the bar.
You hummed in amusement, watching the man retreat like a scared dog with its tail between his legs. Then, you looked at the woman, the praise sitting on the tip of your tongue for her performance, when you noticed a deep cut on her cheek. Whatever you were going to say was immediately forgotten as concern took over. You took her chin gently into your hold, angled her head back, and examined her cheek to see the extent of the damage. It looked fresh, like it happened within the last ten minutes. Blood and pus still seeped from it, the edges of her skin red, raw, and inflamed. Maybe if you’re able to treat it now, it wouldn’t scar too horribly.
Your focus was solely on her cheek, so you didn’t notice the way her breath hitched. You didn’t see her nibble on her bottom lip, nor did you see the way her eyes widened as your fingers turned her head gently from side to side. She swallowed thickly, her nostrils flaring as she watched your eyes assess the injury.
With a gentle caress to her cheek, in the space that wasn’t injured, you stepped away from her briefly to talk to the bartender about housing accommodations. He informed you that the bar also doubled as a hotel, and since you were already here, you requested a room for the night. Unfortunately, he told you that his establishment was full, that the mass panic from today’s assassination pushed everyone to find shelter while the country reeled. You insisted that you’d pay for a room, any room for that matter, and you’d pay it with cash. To show him that you meant business, you pulled out a neat clip of folded euros and showed it to him. That seemed to pique his interest, his pupils expanding as he fished for a key. You paid the man generously, took the key, and returned to the woman who hadn’t so much as shifted from her spot.
It was odd how things turned out. You went from not having a place to stay, to now having a bed to sleep in with a woman by your side. Not that you were planning anything. You’d give her the bed, and you could sleep on the ground for all you cared. At least you had a roof over your head.
You expected the woman to drop the pretense since no one was looking now, but she still took your hand and followed you up the three flights of stairs that it took to find your room. By that time, police swarmed the building, going from door to door and demanding to see the occupants inside. You kept your eyes forward while this beautiful stranger followed you. Once you found the room, you unlocked it, ushered her inside, and made a show of closing the door slowly. You wanted those police officers to see that you weren’t alone, and that there was no need to knock on this door again. Once you closed the door and locked it, you leaned against it and listened to everything going on outside. Muffled voices. Barked orders. The sounds of feet shuffling to comply. Paris really was the dream city. The woman did the same, joining you against the door with her ear pressed against it. She met your gaze, and you gave her a crooked smile, one that she returned eagerly.
“Natasha.”
You took her hand and shook it gently.
“Y/n.”
Again, your gaze dropped to the cut and the drying blood around it.
“Let’s do something about that.”
You stepped away and made your way to the bathroom, taking in all the exit routes in case things went south. The room was bigger than you expected, but it still only had one bed. As far as hotel rooms went, this one was pretty basic. Some furniture. A television. A bathroom. A complimentary coffee pot that housed prepackaged instant coffee. It had the necessities. And to your delight, it also had a small med kit. You grabbed it and took it back to the bed where Natasha was already sitting. You went back to the bathroom to wash your hands thoroughly, and when you returned, you saw Natasha thumbing through the supplies. You put on the gloves provided by the kit before nudging her hands away with your arm. She looked at you, her expression light.
“You don’t have to do that. I can manage.”
You just shrugged. “Maybe, but I want to, unless this will make you uncomfortable.”
That made her pause, an expression you couldn’t quite decipher taking over her features. It was like…it surprised her to see you so considerate of her comfort. She realized that you hadn’t touched her or done anything to her that was outright aggressive or sleazy. Natasha knew what she looked like and knew that some people couldn’t help themselves. All it took was one flirty look before the lines of consent were blurred horribly. You sat just a little further away from her to not crowd her, and when you did touch her, it was with a gentleness that she could refuse at any moment. You weren’t forcing yourself on her, even with you trying to help. All that Natasha knew was your name, and yet, she knew that if she told you to stop, you simply would. No questions asked. She raised a perfect and flawless eyebrow before she nodded.
“Alright.”
You nodded, immediately focusing on the task at hand. You opened a few alcohol wipes, some swabs, an ointment, and bandages.
“Look towards the wall and tilt your head to the side,” you said, your voice gentle. Nat hummed, a small smile playing on her lips as she adjusted herself.
The moment that she was in position, you got to work. Under the light of the room, you could see it much better. It wasn’t a cut, but a graze. The edges of her skin were cauterized while blood wept from the heart of it. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you grabbed an alcohol wipe.
“Did a bullet graze you?”
Nat’s smile turned into a full-blown smirk, one that had quite the effect on you. “You’re good.”
You took the wipe and began to clean the outside of it, doing your best to not agitate the wound in the process. Natasha didn’t wince. She didn’t make a sound of pain, but her breath hitched, the sound sharp and full of everything that she was trying to hold back.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
Nat shrugged minutely, making sure not to move too much.
“You’re taking this remarkably well for someone who was shot.”
“Shot?” she echoed. “Hardly. They couldn’t even hit me properly.”
That made you chuckle as you continued cleaning. You removed as much dried blood and dirt as you could before cleaning the wound itself, using gentle touches and muted movements.
“You’re still lucky,” you added, and she looked at you without moving her head too much.
“You’re not French.”
“Neither are you.”
That made her smile again. You grabbed a bandage and prepped it before softly applying some antibacterial ointment.
“This next part is going to suck,” you warned.
Natasha sucked in a bracing breath right as she felt your fingers pinch her wound together. That one made her visibly blanch, the color draining from her face even though she was stone still. You apologized again and moved quickly, keeping the skin pinched while gently applying the bandage. When it was in place, you released her immediately and created some distance between you and her. Nat released the breath she inhaled moments ago, her hand coming up to gingerly touch the bandage.
“Thank you,” she murmured genuinely as she met your eyes.
“I don’t know if I got to it before it scars, especially since pieces of it were cauterized, but it’s better than getting an infection.”
Nat smirked again, agreeing of course, but not saying anything as she watched you take off the gloves and toss them into the trash.
+++
One thing that you will give the people of France was their resilience. That even with what was currently happening, they still managed to make the best of a situation. Paris was on lockdown. The people were under a curfew. The streets were full of government soldiers while the federal building you blew up several hours before was still in flames. The screams had long since quieted. The only noises that marred the night were the sounds of sirens and the loudspeaker repeating the curfew at regular intervals. You single-handedly managed to flip this city upside down, and yet, on the building where you and Nat were staying, there was a party. Well, to call it a party was generous. It was more of a get-together. A gathering of a handful of people who weren’t afraid, and others pretending not to be. It was a moment when people could forget what was happening, could forget that the city came to a screeching halt in that matter of a few hours. You and Nat decided to join, not having anything better to do, and you were glad that you did. In your hand was an expensive bottle of wine that you were nurturing. Natasha had a shot glass and some vodka. There was a bonfire, music, drinking, and dancing. People talked, danced, and you were sure that there was a couple doing more than that in the corner, if the breathy moaning that you heard was anything to go by.
You watched it all, admiring the resilience of it all as you took another sip of the wine. It was a red one, luxurious, one that was handed to you by a kind stranger who had no idea what it was worth. Another stroke of luck for you. Nat sat by your side, content with watching the people like you were. You watched her as she prepared another shot. Sure fingers steadied the bottle as she poured. In the humid air, a drop of condensation ran down the glass and over fulgent skin. As she raised it to her lips, Nat paused. It was like she knew that she was being watched because she turned to look at you immediately. You didn’t look away, beyond indifferent of the fact that Nat caught you staring. She raised an eyebrow in intrigue, watching as you smiled at her and raised your bottle a little.
“To surviving the night,” you said, the offered toast sitting between you and her.
“до дна,” she added as she also raised her glass and clinked it against your bottle.
You raised your eyebrow but didn’t comment on her words, opting to just accept it for what it was as you took a generous swig of wine. You were buzzed, not aiming to get shit-faced, but more than happy to be in the clutches of inebriation. Natasha swallowed her shot before she set down the glass and looked at you.
“She speaks,” she began as she stood up in front of you and offered her hand to you. “But can she dance?”
You chuckled, looking away from her as a blush filled your cheeks. The music was still playing. The fire was still burning, adding to the heat of the summer night as smoke still wafted into the night sky. Soft voices and conversations surrounded you. People were dancing, but to call yourself a dancer would be a complete lie. You were a trained assassin, but even you could admit that you had two left feet. You tilted your head to the side as you looked at her, your smile wide and genuine. Even under the glow of the fire, Natasha was ethereal and breathtaking. A perfect smile. Green eyes that glowed with mirth. Features that were as soft as the night. Everything about her radiated beauty.
“You know, you’re literally too good to be true,” you said to her instead.
“And you’re drunk,” she retorted as her smile widened.
You shrugged as you swirled the wine, the liquid sloshing against the sides of the bottle. “Drunk mind, sober thoughts.”
It was Natasha’s turn to blush. Her hand was still extended, the offer still there, but when you didn’t move, she took the initiative for you. She took your hand and eased you onto your feet, where you swayed minutely under the effects of the alcohol. Then, she escorted you to the impromptu dance floor. From there, she wrapped her arms around her neck while you respectfully placed your hands on her hips.
She scoffed and it took you by surprise. You were just about to ask her if you’d overstepped, when Natasha grabbed your hands and moved them up to her waist, just below the swell of her chest.
“I’m not a nun, детка. Hold me like you mean it.”
Her eyes flashed, the salacious look within them making the forest green ripple as she met your gaze. The moment that she said it, it was the exact moment you adjusted your grip again. Your thumbs shifted so that they were rested just against her lower ribs. It was a daring move, one that Natasha seemed to enjoy when she moved impossibly closer to you. You felt her arms wrap loosely around your neck and rest easily on top of your shoulders.
“I want to be respectful,” you replied drunkenly as you sank into the warmth of her body.
The space between you and her grew quiet as you swayed to the music. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged. Full of tension. Full of something more that you didn’t want to read into just yet. Though you didn’t want to figure out what it was, you couldn’t deny that it was there. It sat heavily on your skin, making your fingers twitch against Nat’s body. She smiled knowingly, her lips just a tantalizing breath away from your ear as she whispered to you.
“Are you always this shy?”
You swallowed thickly while choking out a small laugh. Natasha knew the effect that she had on you. She could feel it when your pulse thumped against her arms. She could see it in the way your pupils dilated every time you looked at her. She could see it every time your gaze dropped to her lips. At this point, you didn’t even have to say it out loud. Natasha knew that you were attracted to her, and if she were honest, she was just as attracted to you too. She’d wanted to close the distance between you and her since you protected her at the bar. Everything else that came after, including patching her up, was just foreplay.
“Only around women I find attractive,” you admitted.
“You find me attractive?” she asked coyly.
“Yes.”
You didn’t even hesitate. The admission was freely given as you looked at her lips once more. This time, instead of returning your gaze to her eyes, they lingered there, right at her lips, at the part of her that was drawing you in the most. Through your drunken haze, you imagined how soft they would be, how pliable and warm and electric...
A soft, husky chuckle drew your attention away from Natasha’s lips and back to her eyes. They were twinkling now, and you watched, jealously, as she took her lower lip and nibbled it gently between her teeth. That lip should be between yours and you both knew it.
“This is cute, watching you stare and pout like I’m not literally in your arms right now.”
You huffed, and it would have been a full laugh if you weren’t so out of it right now. “I’m drunk.”
“So am I,” she countered easily, her voice like silk.
“We just met.”
“That we did.”
“I’m not in the business of one-night stands,” you tried again.
It wasn’t like you were trying to dissuade her. You wanted this more than anything because you knew that neither of you were stopping at just a kiss, and if Natasha let you, you were going to devour her in every way that you feasibly could. You wanted her to know that if this were to happen, then you weren’t going to up and leave. If she decided that for herself, that the situation was different and all that she wanted was to fuck, then so be it. You’d admit that it affected you, but in the end, it was her decision. Natasha looked at you, her head tilting to the side curiously as she stared deep into your blown pupils. She was searching for something, and you let her. You let her search until she was satisfied, until she found whatever it was that she was looking for. You watched as she came to a conclusion, and a shy smile of her own overtook her features.
“You’re being serious.”
It wasn’t just a statement. You could hear the surprise in her voice. She said it like you were lying to get into her pants. Worst yet, she was willing to entertain you, regardless of if she wanted to or not. You could feel your face contort, the smile falling away slightly to reveal the empathy that you were feeling for her. You knew what that was like. Honey potting wasn’t a stranger to you in your line of work, and it was extremely rare for you to enjoy what you were doing when it was just seducing, and sometimes, fucking, your targets to get what you needed for your job. You didn’t want Natasha to be another face that faded in time. Something about her was drawing you in. Far be it for you to believe in love at first sight or soulmates, but you were willing to bet that what you were feeling now was something close to it. If nothing else, you respected her. So, you let your arms fall away and you took a step back.
“We don’t have to do this,” you said to her, your voice clearer than what it’d been a few seconds ago. You wanted Natasha to hear the truth in your words. “I don’t want it if you don’t either. We can conclude the night, and you can have the bed. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. I can go to the front desk to get some more sheets.”
You began to step away, but a strong and gentle hand grabbed you by your wrist. In an even stronger yank, you were pulled towards Natasha, stumbling a bit at the suddenness of the movement. Then, in the next second, your lips crashed into hers. You inhaled a sharp breath through your nose, stiffening at such a brash action. Already, an apology was on the tip of your tongue, some awareness trickling into you the moment it happened. You assumed that it was an inebriated accident, and that you were drunker than you assumed that you were, but then, Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek. Her lips moved against yours, and she deepened it. It took another drunken second to realize that this was deliberate. She wasn’t pulling away from you. It took another second more to realize that she initiated the kiss when you weren’t moving fast enough for her. You could tell that she was encouraging you, especially when her free hand guided your arm to wrap around her body. You did just that, taking her into your hold and holding her close like she would slip away at any moment.
Whatever you thought her lips were going to feel like, reality immediately put it all to shame. To say that they were soft was a huge understatement. They were like silk against yours. Pliable and warm. Delicate and silky. You couldn’t help the whimper that vibrated through your throat the moment that you felt Natasha. One kiss. Just one, but it was earth-shattering all the same. It rocked you to your core, upending your already drunken state. It made you dizzier than you already were, and you allowed yourself to sink deeper into her. Natasha was smiling against you, her lips moving against yours in a way that made your brain fog over. You pulled back once, meeting her eyes, and seeing nothing but heated want and excitement in them. You smiled too, holding her closer and feeling her warmth while your lips chased her.
True to what you thought, it wasn’t just one kiss. It was another. And another. And another. And another, until her tongue was in your mouth, her body was in your hold, her back was pressed against the nearest brick wall, and her legs were wrapped around your hips.
Distantly, the party continued, with some people cheering you and Natasha on as you fell deeper into each other. She giggled against your mouth when someone jokingly yelled at you to get a room, and suddenly, it was the best idea on the planet. Your hands gripped her thighs to hold her close, soft and warm flesh against the calluses on your palms. You couldn’t help yourself when you caressed her, greedily reveling in everything that she was offering. Natasha’s fingers tangled into your hair while her short and manicured nails lightly scratched your scalp. There wasn’t a feeling quite like this, quite like kissing this enigmatic woman in your hold. At the end of the day, she was a stranger, and yet, you knew that after this encounter, you would never be the same again.
You’re not quite sure how you and Natasha made it back to the hotel room. You remembered the commute in broken flashes. The party. The laughter. The wine bottle that you abandoned next to the bonfire. You remembered the fire escape door groaning in protest the moment that you opened it. The hinges screeched, the metal and rust grating loudly in the dark staircase. There were more kisses. More giggles. More touches. More, more, more of her. Then, there was the room. The door barely closed before clothing littered the floor. Her dress. Your shirt. Her hitched breath as you snapped off her bra in one practiced move. Natasha sighed when you kissed her on her collar bones, her head tipping back as she hugged you closer with sure hands. You drowned in her, submerging yourself into her body as you worshipped her with each layer of clothing that she allowed you to remove. She was equally as attentive. Touching, grasping, and caressing every inch of you that she could as she undressed you meticulously.
When Natasha was completely naked and sprawled out on the bed below you, you took the moment to drink her in. Really drink her in. In the low, ambient lighting of the room, what you noticed was that she was covered in marks. New bruises and old. Scars that faded in time. Burn scars. Evidence of past battles that you knew nothing about. It wasn’t going to stop you, unless she wanted you to stop, but you did hesitate. Natasha seemed to see the brief pause that you took because she looked at you. Her eyes widened when she looked down her body, as if remembering what littered her skin. She opened and closed her mouth while struggling to come up with some sort of explanation. Immediately, blood flooded her cheeks, but it wasn’t a blush born in the moment.
No.
This was something else. You could see the fear and nervousness twist her facial features. Such emotions didn’t look fitting on her, like seeing them on someone that walked into the bar so confidently several hours before this moment was stranger than having a literal stranger naked beneath you. You could tell, just by looking at Natasha, that these were all foreign emotions for her as well. It was like watching someone discover that they could do something that they always thought they were incapable of doing. She swallowed thickly and began to sit up, her hand reaching for the blankets to cover herself. Natasha’s lips parted to say something, but you beat her to it, deciding then and there to grab the blankets to stop her. She let you, the cotton sheets slipping from her grasp as you threw them to the side. Then, you eased yourself down her body, meeting her steady gaze, and settling yourself between her open legs.
“You don’t have to explain a thing to me,” you whispered as you pressed a filthy kiss against the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. You met her eyes, willing her to listen to the sincerity of your words.
“Not.”
Kiss
“A.”
Kiss
“Thing.”
Natasha’s eyes widened before pleasure fully began to take over. The initial shock faded to make room for something that she could no longer ignore. And you could smell her. Her arousal. Her desire. It filled your senses and made your mouth water. You ached for a taste of her. To let her fully consume you the way that you’ve been wanting since the moment she kissed you on the ceiling of the hotel. Sure fingers threaded into your hair as she gently guided you to where she needed you to be. She watched, enthralled and mesmerized, as you took her all in. Natasha was on the receiving end of innocent devotion. She was going to be with someone in a way that has never happened to her before.
The truth was that Natasha Romanoff wanted this. She’d never wanted something so bad in her life. If she didn’t have your mouth on her within the next second, she was sure to combust. Already, she could feel your breath. Heavy pants of warm air brushed over her soaking and sensitive flesh, and it was becoming harder and harder for Natasha to keep still under your hold. You pressed a kiss, light and gentle, over her clit, and you were rewarded to hear her whimper. It was nothing dramatic. It was as soft as a whisper and equally as muted, like she was surprised to hear such a sound leave her mouth. You smiled as you felt what this was doing to her. Your teasing. Her thighs flexed, and if you had your fingers inside her, you were sure to feel her body clench around you. Her back lightly arched off the bed, and you chuckled, the sound deep and cocky.
“Is this pussy mine for tonight, sweetheart?” you cooed against her as you pressed another consuming and teasing kiss against her thigh.
Your tongue reached out to lick the small bit of smudged desire across tender skin, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you. Fuck. She was delicious. Tasting every bit as good as a woman is supposed to. Some salt from dancing and being human. All musk. All her.
It took a few deep breaths of steady breathing before Natasha was able to answer. Her fingers gripped your hair tighter as she tried to think through the haze that suffocated all rational thought.
“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t help you along,” she finally answered, her voice breathless.
“And yet you’re here, under me, leaving a wet spot on the sheets when I haven’t even done anything to you yet. So, I’ll ask again. Is this pussy mine?”
To drive your point home, you licked her, full bodied, warm and wet, but it wasn’t where she needed you to lick. You went lower, licking the few drops of come that trailed down her center and smudged near her ass. You licked in a place no other person has dared to venture, the tip of your tongue teasing the tender flesh of her ass. You even pressed in, gently easing a bit inside of her before immediately withdrawing and savoring her taste. Natasha was in shambles. Your move had the desire affect on her when her thighs closed around your head and her breath hitched.
“Yes!” she breathed, her chest rising and falling, and her voice weak. “Fuck, it’s yours!”
That was all you needed to hear. You did away with all the teasing when you could feel Natasha shaking in your hold. You settled each leg over your shoulders, ensuring that she was comfortable and you had a good hold onto her, before diving in. You didn’t even ease her into it. What you did before was a prelude to what was going to happen. She had her warning. Immediately, your lips found her clit, sure and gentle, and you eased it into your mouth before you laved it mercilessly with your tongue. Natasha spasmed, her jaw dropping and her legs falling open when you began to sooth the throbbing ache that’d plagued her for hours now. She cursed as she began to roll her lips and chase after the pleasure that you were giving her. You weren’t nice about it. No part of you was aiming to be neat. You devoured her, the entirety of your face pressed against her core as you continued to move your tongue against her. Her juices coated your cheeks and chin, and you made it your personal mission to have the taste of her scorched and imbedded into your memory.
Natasha was a quiet lover. She was moaning and whimpering, but it was reserved. Quiet. Almost shy. However, what she couldn’t make in sound, she made in actions. You were sucking on her clit, your hands keeping her legs apart to give yourself unrestrained access to her. And Natasha? She was fully fucking your face. Her hips moved unabashedly against you, rutting against you with shameless abandon. One hand freed itself from your hair to tease a nipple between her fingers.
“Fingers,” Natasha moaned. “Now.”
You chuckled against her, loving the way she was ordering you around as you acquiesced to her command. It was hot watching her succumb to this and to you. She allowed you access to her body, and not only were you going to respect her, but you also weren’t going to squander this moment. You pulled away to slip two fingers into your mouth, and you pressed them against your tongue, lubing them with a combination of your spit and her come. She watched you closely, her eyes darkening further when she watched you remove those fingers with a lewd, wet pop. Then, you were aligning them with her core, gently easing them in before sinking them just enough to curl them. Natasha gasped, her eyes threatening to roll to the back of her head.
You fingered her for a few minutes as you allowed her body to adjust. The moment that it did, the exact moment that you felt her suck your fingers in deeper, was the moment you leaned down to take her clit back into your mouth. She was already close, but this was torture. Your fingers massaging that spot within her with devastating precision. Your lips and tongue sucking her clit until you could literally feel it throb in your mouth. It was too much. The energy withing Natasha’s body rose until it reached a threshold.
“I-I’m-” she tried, her voice suddenly cutting off. “I’m gonna-”
Oh, you knew. You could literally feel her body tensing. Her pussy squeezed your fingers. Her hips bucked against your tongue wildly, the rhythm devolving the closer she got to her orgasm. Now that she was here, Natasha was moving without rhyme or reason. She was gone, completely lost to the demands of her body. Through it all, you had no intention of stopping. Not even to answer her. Instead, you hummed, your dark eyes greedily opening to watch her. Natasha’s back was arched to the max. Her head was thrown back, her sweaty, red hair fanning out over the pillow. More moans spilled out of her, her breaths sawing in and out from dry lips. Her thighs were shaking despite her moving hips. You had to watch her. You had to watch her fall over the edge, and your humming seemed to be the catalyst to such an event. Feeling the vibrations against her clit sent Natasha over the edge. Her breath froze in her lungs the moment the orgasmic bomb detonated within her. She shook, her body straining against the waves of pleasure that washed over. You didn’t stop. You watched it all, not blinking once. Blood rushed to Natasha’s cheeks, and she released the loudest moan yet when she was finally able to suck oxygen into her aching lungs. You felt a small burst of fluid splash against your fingers, lips, and chin, and you growled hungrily as you tried to drink it down. There was no way that you would let the sheets absorb what was meant for you.
Natasha’s orgasm consumed her, drowning and overtaking her completely. To date, it was the strongest one she’d ever had. It wasn’t even one that she had to fake. It was as real as gravity, and it ravaged her. You kept going, prolonging everything as she fought to hold her grip on reality. She could feel it from the roots of her hair and to the tips of her toes. The best orgasm she’s ever had, and you were the one to give it to her. With your caring nature and gentle touches, it was like you knew what she needed without her having to say anything. Natasha has always favored gentle sex due to the life she’s lived, and despite the debauchery of you devouring her and making a mess of it, you were still gentle. Infinitely so.
Even as she began to come down, you were gentle with it, easing her back into her body with kitten licks and gentle rolls of your fingers inside of her. By the time Natasha was able to breathe and bask in the afterglow, you were cleaning her up with your tongue, careful not to overstimulate her. Natasha was having a heard time accepting what just happened, and she laughed, actually laughed, in disbelief. That happened and she threw her arm over her eyes as her free hand untangled itself from your hair to run her fingers through the tangles she created. You leaned into her touch, still licking, still tasting, and still savoring her as you smiled.
“Something funny?” you asked, your voice husky.
Instead of answering, Natasha removed her arm to look down at you, her eyes bright with a perfect eyebrow elegantly raised. Her cheeks were flushed, the change in skin tone bringing out the cute dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her skin glossy with it, and you had more filthy daydreams of running your tongue over her just to taste the salt. Natasha reached down to grab you and pull you up her body. You smirked, expecting a kiss, but that’s not what happened. The moment that you were in line with her, and just as you were about to press your lips against hers, Natasha wrapped her legs and arms around you before twisting. Your center of gravity was thrown off when you felt yourself fall to the side, and you flailed a bit before your back hit the bed. Suddenly, you were on your back and staring at the ceiling while Natasha straddled your stomach. She’d switch positions in a show of strength, and as you breathed, you could feel Natasha’s wet pussy pressing against your skin.
Your eyes were wide at what just happened, but the moment your brain caught up to your body, you smiled and rested your hands on her thighs. Natasha looked at you devilishly as the tip of her tongue licked at her bottom lip. She reached behind her with sure fingers and a confidence unmatched to touch you. You sighed, your legs falling open automatically as you felt her fingers part your center. Immediately, they went towards your entrance, the tips dipping in teasingly before she slowly removed them and brought them to her mouth. She hummed, her smile curling sharper as she sucked you clean from her skin. She removed those fingers from her mouth before using that same hand to grab your throat. She wasn’t aggressive, and if anything, it was mostly pressure against your collarbones, but you went pliant under her. Natasha watched as your eyes dilated and your breathing became heavier. Her smile became mischievous as she parted your legs with her own and settled between them in the available space. Just moments before, you were teasing her for how wet she was before you ate her out. Now that it was your turn, you could feel how drenched you were. Eating her out really did something to you, something feral and borderline inhuman. It was the hottest thing that you’ve witnessed in a while, and watching Natasha come because of you was the equivalent of someone hooking a car battery to your arousal and flooring the gas pedal.
The moment that you spread your legs, you felt cool air against your pussy. You swallowed thickly, watching her closely to see what she would do. Natasha watched you, her hand holding you down to the bed while her other caressed its way down your body and to your center.
“My turn,” she whispered before you felt two fingers sink themselves into you.
+++
The city was loud last night, and the following morning, the noise had hardly quieted. Sirens still cut through the morning air. Voices still echoed down the halls of the hotel. The city was still under lockdown, but you were just waking up. You slept like the dead, when Natasha let you that is, and it was some of the best sleep that you’d ever had. You blinked against the morning light, your head rising from the pillow as you looked around groggily. You were on your stomach with it cuddled into your hold. Your body ached deliciously, a testament to what Natasha put you through last night. Your hair was in complete disarray, and the bed was in no better shape. If anything, some of the sheets were hanging off the sides of the mattress, the edges of it sprawled across the floor. Some of the sheets were pulled from the corners and tangled into themselves haphazardly on the mattress. It looked like something had torn the bed apart, and you couldn’t help the giggle that left you. It was short-lived though because something about the room wasn’t right. Something was missing.
And it was the woman you hoped to share the bed with.
You noticed immediately that her side of the bed was cold, and though you were disoriented, you knew that you were alone in the hotel room. You sighed and let your head flop onto the pillow as you released a breath. No strings attached. That’s what you said, and you meant it. Still, you hoped that last night had been something more than just a hookup. You checked your phone and noted the time. You still had a few hours until you had to leave for your extraction point, and with the city on lockdown, getting there will be no easy feat. You might as well shower and get ready now.
You were just sitting up and stretching the soreness from your muscles when the door opened. Startled, your hand automatically reached for the gun you had, training it towards the intruder, when a familiar face strolled in. Natasha. In her hands was a tray full of food and drinks, and she was closing the door behind her when she looked up to see a gun pointing at her.
“Well,” she said easily, smiling even when you lowered the gun into your lap. “It wasn’t the hello I was hoping for.”
“You’re unsurprised to see me with this?” you asked.
“I undressed you, sweetheart. I had to get through the gun before I got in your pants.”
You laughed. “Touché.” You hesitated as you watched her carry the food closer to you. “I thought that you left.”
“Oh?” she said as she balanced the tray easily in one hand. She used her other to take your gun and place it on the nightstand. “You assumed that?”
You felt horrible for doing so, but previous experiences taught you that people will leave before they stay. You’ve woken up in plenty of cold beds that had nothing to do with seduction in a work setting.
Natasha didn’t expect you to answer, and she didn’t push for one. Instead, she placed the tray on your lap before leaning in and kissing you deeply. You hummed into it, reveling in the press of her lips against yours, and secretly, enjoying the moment of domesticity. The moment she pulled away, she plucked some bread from the platter and smiled at you.
“Eat, sweetheart. I know what I did to you last night.”
That was putting it lightly. When you looked down to see what food she brought, you noticed the deep, dark marks that she left across your upper chest. You’d been too into the moment to realize what was going on, but now that you could see yourself in the light, you were covered in bruises. You could still feel her teeth sinking into your body last night, and you ran a finger lightly over the welts with a dreamy smile on your face. Natasha watched you, her expression light as she ate in silence. She was wearing the same dress from last night, not having any other clothes to change into, and you watched as the sun bathed her in light. Everything about her was just as breath taking as it was when you saw her in the bar. Now that she was glowing, you couldn’t help but take her in.
“You’re staring,” she said.
“So are you,” you quipped and she smiled.
“That I am.”
She sat back on the bed with her back against the headboard and reached for one of the cups of coffee that she brought. You focused on eating and enjoying the quiet morning. All things considered, it was rare for you to have a morning after. This was nice. You wrapped the sheet around your body to preserve your modesty as you dug into the food. You didn’t realize how famished you were until you bit into some fruit and groaned. Natasha’s smile widened, but she remained silent. You devoured the food before you, enjoying every bite and savoring all the flavors until everything was consumed.
When you were finished, Natasha took the dishes and the tray, and sat it on the floor away from the bed. You watched her, some nervousness seeping into you as you mustered up the courage to talk about the elephant in the room. Last night. It happened, and despite you wishing that it’d been a drunken hallucination brought about by your loneliness, the woman that rocked your world for several hours last night was now seated beside you. She was just sitting up and turning to you when you released a breath and threw caution to the wind. It was now or never, and the more you thought about it, the faster that you were going to chicken out.
“Um, Natasha, about last night? Nothing needs to come from this. I’d understand if it was just one night.”
She raised an eyebrow, her expression still relaxed and light as she let you finish your spiel.
“And I know that I said that I don’t do hookups, but last night was amazing. I had fun and I hope that you did too.”
When you were done, you looked up to see her watching you with unwavering green eyes. At first, you couldn’t gauge her reaction. It was unnervingly stoic. Nothing about her betrayed what was going through her head, and you couldn’t tell how she was taking all of this. You’ve had guns pointed at you. You’ve survived knife fights, explosions, botched missions, and the occasional torture session on the extremely rare times that you were caught during your missions. You lived through each and every occupational hazard that came with your line of work. Bottles of ibuprofen and the occasional therapy session became your saving grace, and you were still alive today, worse for wear, but none of it compared to this one moment. You’re not entirely sure if Natasha blinked. If her chest wasn’t rising and falling from her breathing, you would have assumed that she died on the bed. Which would be your luck. You just had some of the best sex of your life with one of the most beautiful women alive, and she died the next morning. Typical.
You cleared your throat, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t said anything at all. You were going to vomit, and you wondered if it would just be best to get up, get dressed, and leave. Your heart thundered wildly behind your chest, and it wasn’t until you released an unsteady breath did Natasha finally hum. She tilted her head to the side in contemplation, her eyes not leaving you as she thought about what you said.
“You’re intriguing,” she began, and you swallowed thickly, confused as to what that could mean.
“T-Thank you?”
She smirked. “You’re intriguing and enigmatic. Last night was wonderful and I’m infinitely glad that you also had a wonderful time.”
Calling it a “wonderful time” would put it extremely lightly. It was one of the best nights of your life. Not simply for the sex, and not because you had a successful mission. It was because of Natasha, the woman in front of you that made you feel important and heard.
“How about we meet up in the near future and do this right?” she suggested. Her voice was serious and her green eyes were bright.
You gave her a wide smile, one that displayed the hope that you felt. “I’d like that.”
+++
“Why does it looked like you were attacked by a vampire?” Kate asked you when you finally returned to the office later in the day.
You were exhausted and jet lagged. Since Paris was still on lockdown, you had to leave the city and go to the southern countryside to get extracted back home, and it sucked. You had to bribe a taxi driver with an insane amount of euros to drive you there because no one else was brave or daring enough to do it otherwise. If it came to it, you weren’t necessarily above stealing a car, but you had to be smart with the situation. Even when you traveled with a native, you were stopped seven times by French authorities because they were still looking for single female tourists. Unluckily, you fit the description. It took so much longer to reach your coordinates, and you were nervous that you were going to miss the time window. The agency that you worked for was not forgiving.
You sighed as you sauntered towards your desk, and when you didn’t answer, Kate took matters into her own hands. She reached for the collar of your shirt and yanked the material away from your skin to get a better look. The moment that she did, you batted her hand away and scowled, but it was too late. Kate gasped dramatically, her smile curling into something mischievous like the Grinch.
“You got laid!”
“Can you shut up?!” you hissed between your teeth. You grabbed her hand and yanked her into your office before anyone could hear. “Damn! Not everyone needs to know.”
Kate, undeterred by your reaction, cackled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Finally! I was waiting for you to finally get slutted out. How was it?”
You groaned, sinking into your desk chair with your fingers rubbing your temples. Kate hovered close by, her eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. It was clear that she wouldn’t leave unless you told her everything that happened.
“Why are you so interested in this?” you asked her instead.
“Because someone owes me two hundred dollars and I was starting to think that you were going to die a virgin.”
“W-Whaaa.... Two hundred dollars?!?!”
Kate’s bet on your ability to get laid gave you emotional whiplash. It took a moment for you to realize that she’d bet money on you at all, and that if you hadn’t met Natasha, she would be out of a sizeable stack of cash. Served her right when you thought about it.
“What the hell do you mean right now?? I haven’t been a virgin since college,” you pointed out.
“Oh please,” Kate scoffed. “It’s been so long that I thought your hymen was going to weave itself back together.”
You blanched and frowned. “That’s so sick and wrong.”
Kate waved away your revulsion as she steered the conversation back to her topic of interest. “Dude, don’t be a prude! How was it???”
You rolled your eyes. Kate was your best friend. You’ve known her since you both were in diapers, and it just so happened that you both got hired at the same agency. A decision that you wondered whether it was on purpose. Despite her rambunctious personality, Kate was one of the top agents in her division. She knew how to get shit done and deliver the results that the bosses wanted. You just wished that one of her special skills was knowing when to be discreet at work.
“It was good,” you told her. Kate raised her eyebrows, not satisfied with your answer, and you sighed. “It was great, actually. Better than great. I swear it changed my whole outlook on life.”
Despite the awkwardness surrounding the discussion of your night, you found yourself smiling. You could practically feel Natasha’s hands and mouth on you as you thought about it. You could still feel her fingers sinking into you, curling just right, hitting that spot within you that you didn’t know existed. You could feel her tongue laving on your clit, sucking it gently into her mouth to make you cry out. You swallowed thickly and blinked hard to force yourself back into the present. Kate was smiling devilishly as she leaned on your desk.
“You’re fucking smiling,” she stated triumphantly, her smile curling into something on the border of wicked. “Oh my god, I know that she made you come.”
“Multiple times,” you answered with a smile.
At that, Kat cackled. Literally cackled. She threw herself away from your desk and swung your door open excitedly. She was a few steps down the hall when you heard her voice.
“Pay up, bitches! Baby girl got her eggs cracked!”
A chorus of groans and sighs echoed down the hallway. Someone grumbled about how it was that she cheated, which would be impressive. You’re sure that Kate was not above hiring someone for you if that meant that she won the bet, but you knew that running into Natasha was a happy accident. You scoffed and signed into your computer. Unlike her, you had work that you needed to do. Paperwork needed to be signed and sent off. Your equipment needed to be turned in and cleaned. You had to get ready for your next mark, so you concentrated on what you needed to do while making a mental reminder to shake Kate down for a cut of her winnings. You’d be damned if she made money off you and didn’t share it.
After Paris, you saw Natasha multiple times. You agreed to take it slow, to really get to know each other. The chemistry was there, but a relationship took more than that, and you wanted to do things right. It was a few years of dating her for a while before you tied the knot. In that time, you learned that she worked as an international assistant, which helped you because she did travel a lot. That meant that she wouldn’t really notice how often you were gone for your job. You didn’t want to tell her about your life as an assassin, so you told her that you were a bureaucrat. It made sense. You worked at a desk and had a job that focused more on paperwork than the bigger picture. It wasn’t a complete lie...but it also wasn’t the total truth. You made sure that your work didn’t bleed into your home life, and in retrospection, you may have done too well of a job. You genuinely don’t remember when things became so stale. What was the tipping point? When did it all come to a screeching halt? You remember the moments when you were excited to come home and greet your wife. Then, you’d spent countless hours being around her because it felt like there wasn’t enough time in the day. There was intimacy. There was sex. There was laughter. There were all the things that made a house a home...
Nine, or ten, if you were Natasha, years have passed, and here were how things ended. Marital mediation.
Bruce stared at you as you recounted a tame version of how you and Natasha met. No one needed to know how it was you got to Paris or what you were doing there. You explained the bare minimum, and Bruce, to his credit, smiled and listened.
“It sounds like it was an unusual circumstance that led to you meeting each other. What I am sensing is a bit of a communication barrier,” he began and you had to stop yourself from making an outward reaction.
No shit, Sherlock. If it really was that easy, then you wouldn’t be here.
“Why don’t we reconvene after two weeks, and we can pick up from where we left off?” Bruce suggested.
“Sure, Doc,” you said as you stood up and offered your hand to Natasha. She took it automatically, a reflex that she gained from you always doing small things to help her through life. “Whatever you say.”
Natasha gave him a cordial nod before she headed towards the door of his office. You did the same, following her as you released a tired sigh.
Why did this feel like such a huge waste of time?
+++
“I have to go out of town for a work conference,” you said as you packed a bag.
Truthfully, you were leaving town for a mark in Mexico. You just received the assignment today and needed to be in position by midday tomorrow, or else your window would close. It’d been two days since your appointment with Dr. Banner, and things slid back to normal too easily. The same monotony greeted you the next morning when you opened your eyes. You saw the same bedroom. The same opulent mansion. The same expensive kitchen. The same circular driveway. The same massive garage. All things considered, you shouldn’t complain. You and Natasha lived in one of the nicest and richest neighborhoods in New York. It was where the nouveau riche lived, where money and wealth were flaunted to its max. It was easy to buy this house and to fill it with two expensive cars. It was easier still to fill the house with expensive artwork, exorbitant vases, lavish sculptures, and extravagant marble. Back then, you and Natasha were excited at your combined wealth, able to spend on things that thrilled you. Years ago, it was marble and silk rugs. Now, you couldn’t care less. It was all a part of your everyday life. Every two weeks, you’d pay someone well above their rates to clean the mansion. You hired a gardener to do the same around the yard, or else the HOA would fine you. At the end of the day, it meant nothing. It wasn’t your priority. Your priority was sitting a few feet away from you, her attention not even on you.
Nat hummed, her reading glasses perched low on her nose as she read a book. Her hair was thrown into a loose bun. She wore a simple tank top and shorts that displayed much of her flawless skin. At least she looked relaxed as she crossed one leg over the other. Natasha barely spared you a glance as she idly turned a page and continued reading.
“Dinner is at eight.”
It always is. You leaned over to press a kiss against her cheek, and she let you, subtly leaning into the contact as she hummed in acknowledgement. When you went to press a kiss on her lips, she raised an eyebrow, suddenly aware of how close you were to her. Nat leaned back, her eyes on yours as she frowned.
“I’m not really in the mood.”
That was all she said, and you swallowed thickly as you tried to choke down the hurt. You didn’t even want sex, which is what she assumed that you wanted. You just wanted to kiss your wife the way that you used to. You stood up straight and watched as she went back to her book, her attention moving away from you in a way that made your heart throb. Maybe it really was time to call it. Maybe it was time to end the relationship and move on. Honestly, you couldn’t keep doing this. Talking to Dr. Banner about how you met made you realize just how much you missed the passion and the intimacy in your relationship. You missed small things like conversations and laughter. This wasn’t what you needed, and you hated that what started as the best part of your life was about to end here. You sighed, zipped your duffel bag closed, and swung it over your shoulder.
“I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Again, Nat hummed and nodded, not saying anything. By the time you made it to your car, you realized that not once did she say that she loved you. The words sat empty and unsaid in your chest, and you wondered at what point in your marriage did you realize that you said them for the last time to the one person that you loved most on this planet.
+++
“Jesus, Natasha. Why not just make her sleep on the couch?” Maria grumbled as she typed furiously on her computer. “Or better yet, why not divorce her?”
Nat looked at her harshly, her green eyes cutting, her arms crossed, and her shoulders straight. She wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response because Maria knew how she felt about the situation. It wasn’t that easy. How could she go about telling her wife and her best friend that she was a part of a secret government agency. How could she tell you that she was an Avenger, and one of the most famous ones at that? It wasn’t something that rolled off the tongue. At first, Natasha refused to tell you because she was worried about your safety. She fabricated the lie out of necessity. When she met you in France, it was to gather intel on the president, though by the time she arrived, he was already dead. That annoyed her, because she went there for nothing, but then, she met you. And she had the best night of her life. Despite all the things that didn’t add up about you, like the gun that you managed to smuggle into the one country with the most stringent gun laws, Natasha was happy to fall for you and to fall in love with you.
But life got in the way. Though she was an Avenger, her skillset was in espionage and assassinations, which meant that by choice, her face and likeness couldn’t be plastered all over the news. It would take seconds for her past to come back to haunt her, and that was something that she didn't want to happen to you. Natasha didn’t want you to be used against her. For her safety and yours, the world knew her by her alias. The Black Widow. The sharp, crimson hourglass symbol was her calling card. It was how her assignments knew who she was. It was the last thing that they saw before she put a bullet between their eyes.
“Natasha,” Maria said as she turned her attention away from her computer. “Seriously, just call it. The relationship is dead. What you had is gone. The excitement was there but now things are getting in the way.”
“Things like SHIELD,” Nat clarified.
The Avengers weren’t as much of a problem these days. Fury only assembled them when things had gone to shit. World-dominating gods, murderous AI robots, and a galactic warlord hellbent on the destruction of the universe were all valid instances when the Avengers were called to save the world. But that was back when you and Natasha were dating. It was easier to explain her weeks long absences in your relationship. Now, most of the Avengers were more or less retired because things had finally settled down. Fury wasn’t going to let her retire any time soon, not that she wanted to. She thought that she could balance her life, but now Natasha couldn’t ignore what was going on with her relationship with you. She cultivated a career in which she could read people like a book. She knew their tells. She knew when they told lies. She knew exactly what to do to manipulate a situation to achieve her desired outcome. However, when it came to you, she didn’t know what to do. She hoped that the appointment with Dr. Banner would reveal something, but all it did was make her wish for the things that she used to have.
“Most people don’t have jobs that require them to kill or fuck people to topple governments and regimes,” Maria pointed out.
Natasha rolled her eyes though it was a true statement. “I’m thinking about telling her the truth.”
“You’d better tell Fury first. You know that he’s going to make her sign a stack of NDAs.”
Maria was all about her job. No one knew where she lived, not even Fury. She kept her life a complete secret and Natasha was the same. The only people that knew of you were Maria and Fury. Not even the Avengers knew about you, and that was how Natasha wanted it. There were very few people that she trusted in life. She talked about you regularly to Maria than anyone else because she usually had sound advice, and Maria knew not to tell anyone about Nat’s personal life. As for the advice, today was not a good day apparently. If her only advice was to divorce you, then Natasha was in trouble.
“I wish that I can tell you that everything will be sunshine and rainbows, but you know better than anyone else that the world doesn’t spout bullshit like that. I say divorce her and move on. Life’s too short and you can find someone else that you can be yourself with. If not, tell her the truth and get ready for the consequences, whether good or bad. But whatever it is you’re going to do, do it.”
Maria turned around and handed Natasha a folder.
“What’s this?” Nat asked as she opened it and flipped through it.
“Your next assignment. Your target took the bait and is headed to Mexico right now. We just got confirmation.”
SHIELD has been tracking this target for months. Whoever they were, they were good. Professional. Clean. Expertly trained. They were thorough with their intel and clean with their kills. Fury always knew that there were rival companies, and as long as they worked on their own turf, then it wasn’t a problem. With this one, they were getting cocky. It got to the point where they sent them after one of his SHIELD agents, and they were good enough to kill their mark. Since then, it was an all-out war to figure out who this agent was and how to kill them. Fury wasn’t suicidal enough to go after the company, but he was livid enough to place a mark on their most prized assassin. It just so happens that this assassin was assigned the bait like Fury hoped would happen. It wasn’t something that he wanted to concern Natasha with, but with his mark evading every other agent, it was time to send out the best of the best. Who better than an Avenger?
“Midday,” Maria clarified as Natasha skimmed the dossier. “One chance.”
Natasha nodded and was just about to get ready for her mission when Maria stopped her.
“And stop icing out your own wife. It sounds like she’s trying. Why not meet her halfway and stop making things harder than they need to be?”
Nat looked at her. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like she’s hiding something from me.”
Maria frowned. “Like what? You checked her job and it seems legit. You tailed her one time, and she went everywhere that she said she’d go. She isn’t having an affair. She doesn't have a secret love child or family. You covered all of your bases. What’s there to hide?”
At that, Nat couldn’t answer, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t full suspicion, but there were things nagging at her, things that she couldn’t shake. Natasha hadn’t forgotten about the day that she met you, but it made her wonder why a civilian would have access to a gun if they were just touring. It was something that she completely forgot about. In addition, you were secretive. Not in the way that would suggest that you were unfaithful, but in a way that made Nat believe that whatever it was, it was impacting her relationship with you. Small things. Little secrets. More that made Nat feel that she wasn’t the only person hiding something. Far be it for her to suddenly be a hypocrite. Natasha couldn’t call the pot black without being the kettle herself. Maria made a decent point, but Natasha couldn’t ignore her own instincts. She didn’t have an answer for Maria but that didn’t stop the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. Yes, she was hiding something, but she knew that you were too, and she didn’t know if she was ready to learn what it was.
+++
It was blistering hot in Mexico. It was the kind of sweltering that made you wish that removing your skin was an option. The dry, desert heat was hell on you as you got to work setting up your perimeter. The sweat that ran down your back did very little to cool you down. If anything, it was incredibly itchy as it soaked into your clothing. You scratched your forehead again as salted tracks trailed down your flushed skin.
Sniper? Check. RPG? Check. You mentally ran through your checklist to make sure you had all your gear. Satellite laptop. Sniper rifle. Detonator for the bombs you placed. Your Kevlar vest, which you had on. You were already camouflaged to blend into the environment, to make it harder for your target to spot you until it was already too late. You were lying on your stomach, the dirt and dust blowing around you with the breeze. The sun was cooking you alive, and you’ve already had to kick three scorpions away from you. It wasn’t the worst conditions to work in, but you had to admit that these weren’t ideal.
Luckily, your target would be arriving any moment now, and you prepared your sniper. You already had a plan. Kill the mark with your sniper. Blow up the vehicle using the RPG. Snipe anyone else to clean up the scene. Detonate the area. It wasn’t the cleanest, but it was the most effective. It’d burn away most of the evidence and the explosions would scramble what was left. Then you could go home.
In the distance, something was headed your way. You could see dust belching into the air from the tires of a lone vehicle on the dirt road. Perfect. When you checked your watch, you breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Right on time. You settled onto the ground and kept your head low, closing one eye while using the other to peer into the scope. As the vehicle got closer, you took note of all who were inside. Your target was in the back seat and sitting on either side of him were two bodyguards. There was another driving the car. You frowned, leaning back from the sniper to look around. This was the only car out there. If this was such a high-profile target, why were there only a total of three bodyguards? It didn’t sit right with you, but you put all this effort into setting up and you weren’t going to leave empty-handed.
You forced away all your concerns as you returned your eye back to the scope. You slowed your breathing, deep inhales of dry heat filling your lungs as you counted in between heartbeats. Your finger readied over the trigger, prepared to pull it when you felt like you had the shot. You would have taken it if it weren’t for the glint of light that distracted you. At first, you thought that it was the sun and you readjusted yourself minutely to get away from the glare. But then, it happened again. A flash of light, fleeting, there and gone, but it was distracting. You pulled away from your sniper with a groan and looked around you. That’s when you saw it. In the distance, behind the bright sunlight, so small that you overlooked it, was a shadow. It looked like a small hump, something that could be mistaken as a rock if it weren’t so smooth. Something about it wasn’t right. You lowered your sniper and grabbed your binoculars to look through them. That’s when you saw it. That shadow wasn’t a rock. It was a person, and you could see that something was aimed right at you.
Your eyes widened, reflex kicking in when your brain was too slow to think through the situation. You rolled right as you heard something ricochet off the ground. Not even a second later, you heard a crack through the air. You knew what that was. The sound of metal against rock rang dissonantly through your ears harshly enough to make them ache. It filled you with a harrowing truth.
Someone was trying to kill you. You were quick as you grabbed your sniper and aimed. You didn’t look through the scope, not knowing how much time you had before they tried again to shoot you. You had your Kevlar, but even that wasn’t strong enough to stop sniper rounds. You pulled the trigger, the gun jerking with enough recoil to strain your wrist. You winced but you were already moving. It missed your attacker by a few meters, but it bought you some time. You pivoted the sniper and aimed it at the car that was just about to drive by, the window to execute your job rapidly closing. You breathed hard as your pulse thundered rapidly through your grip. You pulled the trigger only to miss. Instead of hitting your target, you hit one of the bodyguards. The driver slammed on the brakes, the car coming to a screeching halt just as another bullet sailed over you to embed itself into a rock behind you.
“Fuck this!” you snapped as you pushed the sniper away.
You were already compromised. There was no way that you could get this done when you knew that someone was fucking up your perimeter. You grabbed the detonator and pushed the button. It clicked and beeped just as the ring of bombs that you placed earlier exploded in a near perfect circle. You hoped that your mark was in the perfect spot to get blown sky high, but the real reason why you pushed the trigger was to create some cover. Sand belched into the sky and completely engulfed the sun. It drowned everything in dust and muddy brown. The air became dry and chalky, but you were already moving. You grabbed the RPG and aimed it at the last place that you saw your assailant.
“Shoot this,” you mumbled as you fired the missile.
It cut through the dust cloud, the smoke and debris curving and folding around the projectile as you watched it zero in on its target. Seconds later, you heard another violent explosion before another dust cloud polluted the blue sky and clean air. You were already moving, grabbing everything and throwing it onto your motorcycle. You were just throwing on your helmet when you felt something slice your upper arm. You grunted, barely able to hear another shot before you kicked the bike to life and drove away. The adrenaline was numbing the pain from being grazed, but you could feel blood soaking into your shirt and dripping down your skin. You ignored it, doing everything that you could to put distance between you and whoever that was. You grabbed all your gear so there was no chance that you would be discovered, but that was the least of your worries. Your boss was going to rip you a new one. And it was like he knew what was going on because you could hear a call being patched into your helmet. You swallowed thickly and answered it.
“What happened?” he asked as the voice modulator distorted his words.
“There was another player in the field,” you answered as you revved the engine. “The mark got away.”
You didn’t need to verify. You didn’t get a chance to shoot him.
“Clean. It. Up,” the voice barked. “You know what happens. You have twenty-four hours.”
You didn’t get the chance to respond. The call suddenly cut off, and you swore harshly. You had eyes in the sky. Kate was your camera man and would have stayed behind to fly the drone even after you fled the scene. If there was anything to help you identify your attacker, she would have seen it. You whipped out your phone and dialed her number. Kate picked up on the first ring.
“Dude! What the fuck was that?!”
“I don’t know but I sure am interested to find out,” you replied as you switched gears and raced back to your agency.
+++
Natasha couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry. She was barely able to dodge those shots, but she didn’t survive the RPG unscathed. Something was cutting deep into her back, luckily high enough to miss vital organs, but still deep enough that it fucking burned in agony. She ripped the mask off her face, and spat out the dirt in her mouth, as she kicked away her sniper and shook the rocks and dust from her body. Something was dripping down her forehead, and when she reached up to wipe it away, Natasha realized that it was blood. Her own. There was a shallow cut on her hairline, and in comparison to every other injury she’s received at this job, she really didn’t give a damn. She rolled onto her feet easily, despite the pain that flared sickeningly in her back. She was already reaching for her phone and calling Maria. She answered immediately.
“Get me satellite images and a ride home,” Nat said calmly. Maria didn’t ask any questions. Natasha could hear her typing on her keyboard.
“This doesn’t sound like a mission success,” she commented after a minute.
“I want to find out who exactly that was. I want to know everything about them, and I want to know how it is that they keep getting away.”
On the phone, Nat’s voice was calm, but underneath, she was seething with rage. Her hands were shaking, and whether it was from anger or from the injury, she couldn’t tell anymore. All that mattered to her was that she found out who did this and quickly because she wasn’t going to let them get away. It wasn’t about reputation. This was, officially, personal.
+++
Hours later and you were back in New York. Your arm ached fiercely, the graze you received throbbing under Kate’s administrations. She was cleaning it thoroughly, using Q-tips and antiseptic to clean the blood, dirt, and grime. She was pinching it closed now, using strong fingers to compress the skin and bandage it. You were reviewing the footage from every angle imaginable, watching it all until you saw something of interest: the indiscernible insignia on the person's uniform. All you could see was that whoever it was had red hair and was clad, head to toe, in black. You reviewed the footage for an hour now as Kate patched you back together, and it seemed as though you weren’t getting anywhere. This was a professional. There were no defining marks. No tattoos. Just hair in a neat braid and a body suit that hid everything from sight. You were just about to give up when you saw something that made you stiffen.
Kate noticed immediately and pulled away. “Are you okay?”
“Look at this,” you said as you pointed out the red on the side deltoid of her uniform.
Kate was finished and she cleaned up the supplies, took off her gloves, and threw them away before leaning closer to the computer screen. At first, she couldn’t see what you were talking about, but then her blue eyes widened in recognition. You watched her pale, fearing that she saw the same thing that you were seeing. The sharp edges of the blood red hourglass figure. Everyone knew what it meant and who that was.
“Oh fuck, dude…” Kate breathed as she slumped back into her chair with nervous eyes.
For once, she didn’t have anything to say. No jokes. No quips. No sassy one-liners. You almost wished that she did joke because it would alleviate the seriousness of the situation.
“Why is the Black Widow trying to kill me???”
“I don’t know,” Kate answered uneasily. “But you’re lucky that you got away at all. She only does covert missions. If you’re on her radar, you’re as good as dead.”
You wanted to snap at Kate, but you couldn’t produce the words. Because as harsh as the words were, she was right. She was bone-chillingly right. The Black Widow wasn’t the average assassin. She went after the worst of the worst marks. She was queen of the assassin underworld. Not just by name but also by reputation too. She never let a mark get away. Until now…
The video was still playing, but you weren’t paying attention. You needed a plan and now. By now, she had to know who you were. Even the cleanest person on the planet couldn’t evade her forever. And you were good, but you weren’t her. You were mentally running through all the resources you had available to you when Kate suddenly gasped. It snapped you out of your chaotic train of thought. You jumped in your seat to look at her, but her attention was glued to the screen. You watched too, you jaw dropping when you saw the Black Widow rip off her mask to reveal… your wife???
Kate was already on her feet, the chair tipping back from the sheer force of her movements. But you were still. Stone still. You weren’t reacting because what you were seeing wasn’t making any sense to you. You’d seen it with your own two eyes and yet, your brain refused to accept it. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Natasha Romanoff was the Black Widow, and she was trying to kill you. Your wife of nine to ten years was trying to take you out.
Suddenly, it was all making sense. The cold shoulder. The clipped responses. The years of her drifting away from you. It was all adding up. Every interaction. Every rejected show of affection. In all this time, you wondered why, and it looked like you found your answer.
You watched as Natasha reached into her phone to make a call, but the world was already blurring around you. The floor was opening up to swallow you whole, and it felt like you were about to be sick. You could hear Kate’s voice, but it echoed hollowly in your ears. All you could do was sit at the chair and stare vacantly at the screen as you watched the love of your life grab her sniper and walk off camera.
+++
Natasha was hunched over in a chair with an ice pack on her head and Maria tending to her wound. She was stitching it up now, the needle and thread working through sensitive flesh that she already numbed with a shot. Nat was tired and weary as her hands idly typed on the keyboard. She was watching the footage now, barely paying attention to it when it felt like her heart was beating in her head instead of her chest. She was covered in dried sweat, smudged dirt, and flaking blood, but she was alive.
“Almost done,” Maria said when she felt Nat shift in her seat.
She didn’t answer. Fury already knew the situation. He wasn’t displeased, at least, not fully. He knew that Natasha always delivered on a job, but he was not happy that her mark got away at all. She was going to deliver. Not a threat but a promise. Natasha always did.
Nat wasn’t watching the footage, not really. Her fingers were idly messing with the controls but then, she saw something that made her eyes harden. It was a quick clip, a frame where the smoke and explosions weren’t obscuring everything. It wasn’t a lot, but enough when there was finally a close up of the face that she was trying to see. Before this point, you were as good as the claims said you were. Precise. Controlled. Clean. Efficient. You camouflaged yourself so well that if it weren’t for your equipment, Nat wouldn’t know where to look. It seemed like this was a waste of time, watching footage of your fight until she was able to see a clip of your face. That’s when she froze it and leaned in. She squinted her eyes like they could discern between the pixels through sheer force of will. At first, she was confused, her mind refusing to accept the reality in front of her. She was staring at you.
Your face and likeness filled the screen, and for the first time in years, the carefully curated façade that Natasha had created throughout the years finally cracked. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she froze in her seat. She didn’t make any noise, but what she couldn’t say, her body spoke for her. Maria saw the way that she stiffened, and her cutting eyes snapped to the computer screen. Immediately, she leaned over Nat’s shoulder and halted.
“It looks like your wife does have some secrets of her own. She’s the mark that’s evaded us for months?”
Maria was surprised and Nat could hear it in her voice. Even this revelation threw her off. Natasha was still stuck on the fact that this was her target and that she tried to kill you. Maria must have been several steps ahead of her because she grabbed her chair and whipped it around so that Nat faced her.
“Don’t complicate this,” she said, her eyes hard as she looked into hers. “Don’t make it harder than what it needs to be. She’s your target. Nothing more. Do what needs to be done.”
Natasha didn’t answer. She just stared stoically at Maria, no emotions betraying her or her inner turmoil. As much as she didn’t want this to be the truth. It was. You were her target. Knowing that the target was her wife changed nothing. It didn’t change her mission. It didn’t change what needed to be done. No matter how much Natasha didn’t want any of this to be true, it was, and she needed to separate herself from the situation and carry out her duties.
Maria was finished cleaning Nat’s injury by the time she learned of what you were. So, Nat locked her computer, grabbed her keys, and went home without saying another word. If she was going to do this, Nat was going to have to be meticulous about it. She didn’t know what you knew just yet, and she didn’t want to reveal her cards until she was sure of the situation. This was all going to end tonight, and by morning, Natasha would be a widow.
+++
Natasha was already home by the time you parked in the garage, and you sat in the car while staring into the lion’s den. You didn’t have a plan. You drove home in a trance, your hands shaking even as they gripped the steering wheel. Now that you were home, you were just going to have to wing it. By now, she knew. Natasha had to. She was the best of the best. Of course she knew. It would be naïve to waltz in there and expect anything less. So, you steadied yourself and got out of the car. Your feet carried you to the front door where you opened it to find Natasha waiting for you on the other side. She showered and changed clothes, wearing something expensive, red, and elegant. A dress in the situation it would seem. You showered too, putting on the emergency clothes that you had packed in your office. You were wearing a crisp, white dress shirt, and loose pants. Yes, it was out of place, but no one would suspect anyone dressed in anything expensive to be a suspect of anything criminal. So, you fit the part, pretending to come home after a long day in the office. Natasha was wearing an effortless smile but behind her eyes was something uneasy. For once, her emotions betrayed her, and you took note of it even though you didn’t react to it.
“Hey, baby,” you began, testing the water. You pressed a kiss on her cheek and she let you. “How was your day?”
“Rough,” she answered easily. “A contract fell through and things are a bit hectic in the office.”
You smirked knowing that you were the contract that managed to get away, but you played it off as a reaction to her day. You followed her into the kitchen, taking note of anything that seemed out of the ordinary. So far, nothing was amiss. Everything was as it should be. Marble. Elegance. Ostentatiousness. Nothing was out of place, and you followed Natasha to the dining room. That’s when you saw the food rested on the dinner table. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and bread rolls were all placed meticulously on the table. It all smelled good, and you looked at her in surprise.
“You cooked?”
“It’s a special day,” she answered as she gave you a wine glass and poured red wine into it.
When she stepped away to put the bottle down, you sniffed the fluid wearily, wondering if she would stoop so low as to poison it. That didn’t seem like something the Black Widow would do, but then again, you couldn’t say that you knew your wife as well as you thought that you did. You swallowed thickly, watching as Natasha worked in the kitchen. It was odd seeing her so suddenly domestic. It was a red flag, especially when she hadn’t been like this in a long time. Natasha seemed to sense your hesitation because she suddenly stepped towards you. She smirked and took the wine in your hand, tipping the glass until it met her lips and she took a deep drink. She hummed appreciatively as she continued to the dining room.
At least you knew that the wine wasn’t spiked. You took a drink, letting the wine sit lightly on your tongue before swallowing. As you sat at the table, you watched as Nat removed a large butcher knife, and despite trying to remain easy and relaxed in her presence, you stiffened. She looked at you, smirking again as she ran the knife against the meat fork. You’re sure that you smiled too though you could feel your heart drop out of your ass.
“I hope that you’re hungry.”
You swallowed and forced another easy smile. “Starving. Work was a killer too.”
“Oh?” Natasha inquired. “How so?”
“I wasn’t able to do the job that I needed to do,” you said as you watched her closely.
Natasha was carving pieces of meat easily, the knife in her hand slicing through breast like a hot knife through butter. Fucking great. Did she sharpen it?
“Something got in the way.”
At that, Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that whatever it was, it’ll be handled.”
It was then that your smile turned genuine and a tad bit dark. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
She prepared the plates, yours first and then hers, before she sat across from you at the large dining table. She was still playing this role, acting like the devoted wife, you noticed. Well, two can play this game. For a while, you both ate in silence, taking uneasy bites as you watched each other closely. At any moment, someone was going to make the first move, and you watched closely to see if it was going to be Natasha. You watched as she finished off the rest of her wine, and you got up to refill it for her. It wasn’t because you were doting on her, but because you wanted to watch the way that she stiffened when she saw you approach her. You didn’t say anything as you smiled and poured her more wine.
“Thank you, baby,” she said genuinely, her confusion evident in her voice.
You smiled and cocked your head to the side, done with the charade. Instead of placing the bottle back on the table, you held it to the side, away from you and her. Then, you let it go. The bottle raced to the floor, the wine within it sloshing against the glass. It should have smashed on the floor. That’s what should have happened. Red wine should have stained the Persian rug. Glass should have littered the floor. Instead, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, caught the bottle. Her sure hand wrapped around it, grabbing it and holding it before it could shatter on the floor. She froze, her eyes round as she stared at her hand like it betrayed her. Nat realized what happened, but it was too late. Way too late. That was all the confirmation that you needed, because normal people didn’t have reflexes like that, especially assistants, since that’s what she claimed to be in your relationship with her.
Natasha let go of the bottle and you both watched as it crashed to the ground and shattered on the rug. Red stained white and bled through into the hardwood, soaking the varnish and leaving a stain that you didn’t give a fuck about right now. Natasha stared at you, frozen in place, and you stared back. Then, you both snapped into action simultaneously.
“I’ll clean that up,” you said at the same time as when Natasha said:
“I’ll grab a towel.”
You both disappeared down the halls, going in separate directions. Natasha claimed to be getting a towel, but she was cutting through the kitchen. That wasn’t where you kept the towels. You claimed to clean the spill, but all the cleaning supplies were in the kitchen. No. You were moving towards the office because built into the wall was a hidden panel. You pressed against it, the panel hissing to give way for a scanner. You pressed your hand against it, the machinery inside of it whirring as it scanned your handprint. It flashed green and opened a small door beside it. Within it was a simple gun. You assembled it, loaded it, and cocked it.
That’s when you noticed just how quiet it was in the house.
You slowly made your way back to the kitchen, checking corners and dark spots along the way.
“Nat?” you called out when you got back to the kitchen to still find it deserted. The wine bottle was destroyed. The rug was unsalvageable. And she was nowhere to be found. “Baby?”
The cutting sound of tires squealing on cement grabbed your attention. You turned to the window just to see Nat’s car peel out of the garage.
“Fuck!” you swore as you started running. By the time you made it out of the house, she was on the main road and speeding away.
“Son of a bitch!” Nat swore from within her car as she shifted gears.
She was supposed to stand her ground. She was supposed to finish this once and for all, but she fucking choked! Natasha Romanoff never choked. It was a damn embarrassment but seeing you had done something to her. She wasn’t sure what, but it was enough to make her hesitate. Nat shook her head, her frustration high and her adrenaline higher as she stepped on her clutch, shifted gears, and made a sharp right. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to put as much distance between you and her as possible.
You were cutting through the neighbor’s yards and vaulting over fences. You had Natasha in your sight as she made turn after turn without rhyme or reason. You couldn’t let her get away. You would be utterly fucked if you didn’t take care of this. But the truth of the situation was sitting heavily on your mind even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it. You had every opportunity to do something in the house. A knife to her stomach. A book to the back of her head. You could have grabbed her and snapped her neck. There was never a shortage of ways to kill someone, and you took none of them. What were you planning on doing once you caught up to her? You didn’t know.
And you weren’t going to find out.
You weren’t paying attention to your footing. Up until now, you were climbing and flipping around your obstacles despite how tired and injured you were. Up ahead was a white picket fence, a brutal mockery of the American dream that you would never achieve now, and you went to jump from one of the lower beams of wood. Instead of supporting you, it snapped under your weight. It was supposed to help you vault over the barrier in your way, but you crashed into it. The air whooshed out of your lungs forcefully, your body folding over the fence as you came to a screeching halt. That’s not all that happened. Natasha rounded the corner, her sports car racing down the road towards you when you finally caught up with her. When you crashed into the fence, your finger was curled too much around the trigger. You squeezed it when you crashed into the wood that crushed your chest. Your resulting shot was sent right through Natasha’s windshield.
She slammed on her brakes, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.
You heard the loud crack of the shot echo through the night. You also heard Natasha’s tires squeal to a screeching halt. Your ribs hurt, but it didn’t compare to the icy terror that ate through your veins at your blunder. The shot was dangerously close to her head, something that she dodged in time by sheer force of luck. You looked between the gun and Nat, your face twisted in horror at what you’d just done. Yes, the goal was to kill her… you think, but this was by accident. A complete accident. Your ribs ached in a way that you haven’t felt since the Ass Whooping of ’04 ™️, as Kate loved to put it, but you dislodged yourself from the broken fence and climbed under it. You held the gun up and in the air. Your other hand was open with the palm facing out in a state of surrender.
“Whoa, whoa! It was an accident!” you called out to Nat.
Whether she heard you or not was beside the point. Natasha’s face hardened into something murderous and scary. From where you were, hundreds of feet away from her, you could see the moniker of her Black Widow title come to life. It wasn’t hatred you saw. That would make this easier and less terrifying if you were honest. You were seeing a complete personality shift from the woman that you loved. Your wife. Your best friend. She was looking at you like she was painting a target on you through imagination alone. It reminded you of those old Looney Tune cartoons where the bull would lose its mind the moment that it saw red. That’s how Natasha was looking at you.
You could hear her engine rev as you stood frozen in front of her car, bathed by the glow of her headlights. A warning, or a promise, you couldn’t tell.
“Nat, baby, please! I swear that it was an accident.”
She smiled, something twisted, cruel, and very much unkind. You heard her shift into gear, her feet stepping onto the clutch and the gas as the tires began to spin on the asphalt. Her car lurched forward, the smell of burning rubber and smoke an assault on your senses as she raced toward you. You had a split second to react, and you jumped right before her car could splatter you on the road. Your body landed harshly on the windshield, your fingers curling around metal and your gun as you looked at her. You couldn’t even be mad that she was willing to run you over. After all, you almost, and accidentally, shot her.
“Nat, babe, we should really talk about this,” you told her as you were jerked to the side by another violent turn.
Nat pursed her lips, her expression hardened and unyielding. She was swerving now, trying to get you off her car, but you were holding on.
“Come one, Nat!” you tried as you scrambled onto the roof of the car. She clenched her teeth hard enough to shatter her jaw in any other circumstance. “We don’t have to do this!”
At that, she scoffed, the first hint of a smile cracking through her exterior. You couldn’t see it as you pressed yourself against the roof of the car. You needed a way in, and you saw it. The rear window. Using your body weight, you leaned over with your gun and shot into the glass to bust the window out. Once the glass shattered, you twisted your body into the available opening, your body landing on expensive leather and broken glass. Nat looked into her rearview mirror in shock as she watched your back land unceremoniously on the seat. She didn’t think about her next moves. She was already reacting. Her hand threw her door open, and she dived out of her moving vehicle.
“Look!” you exclaimed as you sat up, but the only thing that greeted you was an empty seat, a speeding car, and the driver’s side door wide open despite how fast the car was going.
You looked out of the rear windshield to see Nat roll to a stop on the road and get onto her feet. Her chest rose and fell as she watched her car take you further away from her. You pounded on the windshield, knowing that it was futile, but unable to help yourself.
“Natasha! We need to talk!”
It was the last thing she barely heard from you before she watched her car hit a bump, veer slightly to the left, and crash through a metal guardrail that separated the end of the road from the plummet of forest trees. The car was immediately sent downhill before she heard the first collision of metal against wood. It was a second more before the headlights completely disappeared in the shadows of the forest. Nat needed a plan. Now.
+++
You’re quite surprised that Nat’s stunt didn’t kill you. Maybe being in the back seat saved you, even as her car crashed downhill, flipping, folding, and buckling around the trees in the way. By the time the car settled, you were upside down, the vehicle on its hood while leaves and branches rained down around you. You had a cut on your eyebrow, but that was the extent of your damage. You managed to pull yourself free through one of the windows that didn’t completely collapse. Wiggling and crawling through broken glass and shattered debris was the treacherous part of freeing yourself from Nat’s mangled sports car, but it was doable as you dragged yourself to your feet. You groaned and cracked your neck, taking deep breaths to settle the dizzying feeling that you felt before you climbed back up the hill that had tried valiantly to take you out. Nat wouldn’t go far. You knew that. She would stay where she had the home field advantage, where she knew the map intimately. She went home, and that’s where you were going to go as well.
The mansion was eerily quiet when you entered. It was also very dark. There were too many rooms to check, and Nat could be anywhere. She could be upstairs or down. You were going to have to tread carefully.
You entered through the backyard and crept inside, your footsteps sure and quiet. You knew that no matter what, you were stepping into a trap. Regardless of whether you made noise or not. You were on edge, as prepared as could be. It was how you heard the cock of a shotgun in the silence. It was a room over, but it was warning enough when you immediately dropped to the floor. Just a millisecond later, Natasha shot three gaping holes into the wall, cocking the shotgun each time. Drywall and plaster exploded outwards, raining on you as you covered your head with your arms. Each shot rattled your eardrums. It was loud. Vociferous. Thunderous. Nerve wracking. Each shot got closer to you as you crawled away. More dust imploded inward to pelt you in wood and plaster. Then, there was an eerie silence. There was an additional cock of her shot gun, but another shot never came. Instead, Nat let the dust settle as she stepped further away from the wall.
You froze in place too, your head still tucked beneath your arms for protection like that alone would stop a shotgun shell from ripping you apart. You were breathing hard, your breath puffing into the dust and drywall that caked against sweat and skin. From the next room, you heard a slight chuckle.
“You alive in there, baby?”
You slowly got to your feet, moaning and pretending to be injured as you used one of the holes as a lookout to find Natasha’s location. She was right by the stairs, kneeling and ready with her shotgun pointed in your general direction. You weren’t going to waste time. As she drew closer to the sounds of what she thought was you in pain, you pointed your gun out of the hole and fired several rounds. All of them missed, just like her next shot missed you. You rolled out of the way and into the kitchen, hiding behind the cabinets as you thought about what to do. You needed a distraction, and a big one, especially when Natasha started to fire indiscriminately into the kitchen. Shells tore through the wooden cabinets and decimated the marble countertops. One shot cleaved its way through the refrigerator, splattering food and drinks around the area. Glass shattered. Dishes were destroyed. Nat was leveling the kitchen one shot at a time, and that was when you found your distraction. A gas pipe that led to the stove. It was exposed when Natasha shot the wall and revealed it, and luckily, it was already stripped of its outer protective shell. You grabbed a kitchen knife from one of the nearby drawers and chopped at the rest of the pipe. You needed to expose it as much as you could. The room needed to be flooded with methane.
“You’re shooting is horrendous, baby girl!” you quipped right as you dodged another shot.
Another sure cleave of your knife against the metal created the opening that you needed. You forced it open some more with strong fingers, using your muscles to pry it apart so that natural gas leaked into the open air. When it began to spill into the kitchen, you dropped from sight and crawled away.
“Surely the Black Widow can do better than that!”
Natasha scoffed, her smile spreading as she stepped into the kitchen. Her shoes crunched on broken glass, chips of marble, and wood splinters. She just got a glimpse of your leg disappearing into the next room when she raised her gun and fired once more. But it was that shot that started a chain reaction. The room suddenly erupted into flames, a cloud of destruction billowing up and out. You had to completely drop onto your stomach to keep from getting scorched. Natasha had to drop her gun and jump to the side to avoid getting engulfed.
The blast was strong enough to blow the windows out of the kitchen. Glass shards shot out from the frames, sharp and dangerous, and landed in the yard. Natasha landed in a heap right as the explosion completely swallowed the room and bathed it in fire and light. You felt the flames lick hotly against your back as you covered your head with your arms. The fire died as quickly as it started, and soon, it was just billowing smoke and the smell of potential carbon monoxide poisoning as fresh air rushed into the house.
It was a second before you could move, but when you finally looked up and over, you saw that Nat was right beside you. She realized that as well, her eyes blinking away ash and dirt as they widened. The reality of her situation dawned on her all at once. Nat was unarmed. You, however, had a gun. You snapped into action, lifting your weapon to point it at her, but Natasha was quicker. She twisted her body, her leg kicking out to smack the gun from your hold. It flew across the room, skittering across the floor and out of sight. You didn’t let it deter you as you shook the pain free from your hand. You were both on your feet, facing each other with your hands curled into fists and raised in front of you.
There were no more words and no more quips. You threw the first punch, a punch that Nat dodged before whipping around and landing a kick on your lower back. You felt something crack, a hip, maybe, or something else important, but you pushed through it with a grunt. You kept going, faking another punch that Nat fell for before you landed a gut-wrenching upper cut to her stomach. You heard her breath wheeze forcefully from her lungs as she bent over. You followed it up by grabbing the back of her head and slamming her face into your knee. Not hard to break her nose. Never that, but hard enough to stun her. It worked. Natasha lost her footing before she fell to the ground, her head spinning and her lungs aching for oxygen. You smirked as you wiped your mouth and circled around her a bit, catching your breath and watching her as she shook the pain from her head. You curled your hands into fists again and settled into a stance as you waited.
“Come on, sweetheart,” you encouraged seductively. “Come to daddy.”
Natasha smirked, despite what just happened, and when she was able to gather her bearings, she looked around. In front of her was a small, metal knickknack, probably bought when one of you went on an international job, and some curtains that she’d yet to hang up. She grabbed the knickknack, the thing surprisingly heavy and sturdy in her hold, and she wrapped it in the curtains to make a makeshift sling. You hadn’t seen what she’d done, at least, not in time to dodge it. When she suddenly jumped onto her feet and whipped around, her weapon smashed into your cheek. It didn’t shatter any of your teeth, but the attack was harsh enough to slice your cheek open from within. Pain exploded behind your eyes as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. In the next breath, Nat slung her weapon in an arc and used it to uppercut your jaw. This caused your head to snap back violently enough that your neck cracked. You swore that your vision winked. The feeling of your jaws slamming into each other was enough to make a sharp throb ricochet through the bone. You lost your balance and fell backwards into a dresser behind you. It was solid and unyielding, so you slid off it and settled against the wood heavily as your head spun. Natasha laughed as she stepped up to you and kneeled, her body threatening to straddle your lap if she sank any lower against you.
“Who’s your daddy now, baby girl?” she shot back.
Then, Nat surprised you. She cupped your cheek tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. She caressed you before standing up, moving away from you, and tossing her sling to the side. If you weren’t so dazed, you’d say that this was the gentlest that she’s treated you in a while. Though you couldn’t enjoy it to its fullest extent, it still made you smile as you spat out the pooling blood in your mouth. Already, the gash on your inner cheek was starting to sting.
Natasha was moving, but to where you didn’t know. Not that you were going to let her get far. You struggled to your feet with stars still dancing in your line of vision, and you grabbed her from behind. This caused you both to stumble and fall again. Again, Nat was quicker as she flipped you off her and forced you to land on your back. The air was knocked out of you again and you groaned, but you couldn’t stay dazed for long. Despite your stunned state, you rolled out of the way just as Nat’s heel shot down. Its intended target was your ribcage, but her foot landed forcefully with a crack of her shoe. You grabbed her leg and used your arm to lock it in place against you. Natasha tried to wrench herself free, but you kept an iron grip around her as you tried to think.
When it came to hand-to-hand combat, it was clear that Natasha was superior. In the past, you didn’t take it all that seriously, saying why would you need to worry about it if you had a gun? Well. Look at what was happening to you now. Natasha could easily beat the shit out of you. You’ve heard all the Black Widow stories. If you weren’t immediately shot to death, then she’d beat your ass into submission, and you had a front row seat to how true that was turning out to be. You had to get a gun. Now! You suddenly twisted, throwing Natasha off balance. She crashed onto the ground with a grunt, and you kicked your foot into her ribs. It didn’t slow her down, not as much as you hoped. She was already moving, snapping up to her feet at the same time as you, and you faced each other. This time, Nat was the one to throw the next punch. You blocked it with your arm, pivoting on your feet to smash the bony part of your elbow into the back of her head. Nat swore when she teetered forward. Hell. You did too when pain ricocheted up your arm. You hit your damn funny bone hard enough that you lost all feeling in your arm.
It was embarrassing how Natasha was able to recover quicker than you. She grabbed your arm, the one that you could still feel, and twisted it excruciatingly behind your back in a direction that it was never meant to go. You sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, your eyes widening as Natasha forced you against the nearest wall. Pinned there by your wife’s strength, you struggled to free yourself, your movements doing nothing except exacerbate the pain in your shoulder. You were covered in sweat, dirt, drywall, and soot. Natasha wasn’t any better as she breathed harshly against your neck. That’s when you realized it. She was so close to you, so close that you felt her breath, and so close that you snapped your head back and smashed it against her forehead. Nat gasped, her hands letting you go to grab her face. While the move did its job and freed you from her grip, it did nothing to help any of the other injuries that you sustained to your head. You swayed, surely concussed when a wave of nausea washed over you. The sudden need to vomit overtook you, and you leaned against the same wall that you were pinned to.
Natasha was trying to stay upright, but when she swayed, she opted to lie on the floor before her body made the unilateral decision to make her collapse against her will. She was sprawled out on the rug, her chest rising and falling as she stared, wide-eyed and disoriented at the ceiling.
“Fuck…” you swore as you sagged heavily against the wall and rubbed the back of your head. It was throbbing.
“Yeah,” Nat agreed as she slung an arm lightly across her eyes.
It was unorthodox, but the break was needed. Both of you weren’t as young as you used to be, or else this could have gone on longer. While you kept up with your physical fitness, it was getting harder to deny the truth that you were at the mercy of your body.
The nausea subsided, but your body made room for something else. The aches and pains that you sustained from your fight. Your ears were ringing from the blast in the kitchen. You were hurting in ways that you haven’t felt in a really long time. Natasha was in the same predicament though she was handling her pain better than you were. She was good. She’d train for this. Natasha was the Black Widow, but she was also human. Not even she could think beyond what happened to her body during this ordeal.
Several minutes passed before you looked at Nat. She was slowly sitting up, using her arms to support her upper body and weight as she gazed at you.
“Ready?” you asked as you pushed yourself away from the wall to take your stance.
“No,” she answered truthfully, but she stood up and prepared herself as well.
You attacked first, spinning on your feet as you attempted to land a kick. Natasha caught your leg between her arm and her body. She wrapped her arm around you before she used her other to grab the rest of you. That’s when you found yourself airborne. Natasha hoisted you up and tossed you to the side, albeit not effortlessly. She strained, a grunt exploding from her mouth as she picked you up, whipped you around, and threw you away from her. You weren’t in the air for long, but that didn’t stop the world from tilting sickeningly around you before you landed haphazardly on the unforgiving ground. Natasha was already approaching you, her steps sure though she was still rubbing her ribs. She meant to kick you, but you reached out, grabbing the closest thing to you to protect yourself. In your hands was a throw pillow, one that was, somehow, undamaged from the fight. Nat’s kick connected with cotton and stuffing, and you used one of your legs to kick her away from you. She lost her balance, landing heavily on one knee, the bones thudding against the hardwood floor. You sat up, throwing the pillow at her while making a quick escape.
Natasha pursued you, her breaths heated and exhausted as she watched you run back towards the kitchen. She wondered what it was that you were after, then, she remembered. Your gun. She kicked it away from you near the kitchen, and if that was the case, then she could get her shotgun that she was forced to drop in the explosion.
You found your weapon first, cocking it to make sure that it was loaded before you turned around. Only to stare at a barrel aimed directly at your chest. Nat was already there, the shotgun in her hands and aimed at you as she stared at you. You were close enough to feel steel pressing against you, just as Natasha was close enough that she could feel your heavy breaths brush against her face. Your gun was aimed at her as well, the nozzle just mere inches from pressing into her. It was quiet, saved from the laborious breathing that filled the air. Natasha was so close to you. Close to you in a way that you hadn’t felt in so long. Despite this being a fight, this was intimate. The closeness. The vulnerability. Knowing that you held her life in your hands just as she held yours. One pull of the trigger and it could be over for you or for her. Fight or flight stole your ability to think straight. Discovering that your wife was an Avenger was like suddenly discovering that gravity was fake. It was so much to accept and process at one time. But here and now, and in this moment, you could think straight. You met her eyes, her intense stare focused on you, and you realized something.
It was the same eyes that you fell in love with. The same forest green. The same intensity. The same sharpness. Everything that drew you into her. All Natasha. It made you realize something in that moment while you were beating each other’s asses. It made you realize that the love that you had for her wasn’t gone. It was muted. Hidden and smothered behind years of lies and deceit, never being able to be yourself around her because you had to hide a huge chunk of who and what you were from her. Despite the blood flooding your mouth, and the hurt ribs, and the sore jaw, and the fact that she drove her car off the road with you still in it, something was becoming increasingly clear. You still very much loved her.
“You know what I thought when I first saw you?”
Nat blinked, completely taken aback by the change in topic. She didn’t drop her guard or the shotgun, but she did raise her eyebrow in intrigue. “What?”
You got this faraway look in your eye as you reminisced about what it was like to see her in Paris. You surprised yourself by smiling.
“Holy shit,” you whispered as you echoed your first thoughts about her. “This is the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen.”
Natasha cocked her head to the side. She was slightly hunched over, her ribs protesting from the kicks you landed on them just moments before. She was covered in soot and drywall. Her hair was a mess of sweat and tangles. Her clothes had been the true casualty of your fight. The red color of them was stained, and the clothing was ripped, but she was still so beautiful and breathtaking. Even after you put her through hell. You giggled again, and you wondered if you hit your head too hard during the fight, or if this was still the effect that Nat was having on you even after all these years.
“God, I hope she’s gay,” you finished.
That one caused Natasha to laugh. Fully laugh. She winced at what it did to her ribs, but the smile was so genuine. It felt like you hadn’t seen it in years, and even after all this time, it was still the very thing that made your world spin. You were still facing each other, still had your guns pointed at each other, but the tension had bled away to make room for a lightness that you missed so fucking much. Natasha’s smile slowly fell away when she remembered where she was, who she was fighting, and what led to this moment.
“Are we really doing this?” she asked.
Surprisingly, you laughed, the sound leaving you in choppy bursts. Despite how easily it fell from your lips, it was devoid of any humor. You don’t even know why you did it, but it was already out of your mouth and sitting heavily in the air. You could feel tears flooding your eyes at the impossible choice that was before you. Because when you really broke it down to what it was, to the bare amount of information that you needed to understand what was going to happen, it wasn’t a choice. Not really. You had to kill Natasha who was your wife, the love of your life, and your best friend. It was that or be burned by your agency. And if you really considered it, you weren’t bound by duty. Not in the slightest. You didn’t give a fuck about your job like that. The harrowing truth was that someone was going to die by tomorrow, and the choice was either you or her.
You swallowed thickly, the tears that you were trying to fight still spilling down your cheeks. You lowered your gun until you eventually let it fall to the floor. The metal clattered loudly, but you didn’t care. Your eyes were still on Natasha Romanoff.
“I can’t do it,” you whispered. “I can’t.”
You stepped forward until you felt the nozzle of her gun dig into your chest, the metal cold and biting.
“I can’t do it, Nat. I never could, and I won’t. Do what you have to do. Just know that I love you and I always have.”
Nat froze, her eyes widening when she saw you ready to sacrifice yourself for her. It made her hesitate, the adrenaline flushing from her system to make room for something else that was making her heart beat frantically in her chest. The admission of your love broke her because she realized that she couldn’t do it either. She had every opportunity to take you out long before she reached this point. Before she was pointing a gun at her wife. She meant everything that she said to Maria. She loved you irrevocably. This wasn’t going to change anything, and the moment she realized that was the moment she lowered the gun and set it down on the ground. In the next, her lips were pressed against yours.
It didn’t matter how much it hurt when you felt Nat kiss the life out of you. Your body protested, but you didn’t give a damn because Natasha was kissing you. You groaned, letting her press you against the wall with her weight while her hands roamed your body. This was what you needed. You needed the release, the expression of love, and the need to show her that you loved her so, so much. Nat was kissing you hungrily, losing herself to the feeling of you. Her hands began to tug at your shirt, her desperation clear in her movements. You let her rip open your shirt, the buttons popping off under her strength as your hands tugged up her dress until the tattered material was bunched in your grip.
Your kisses were hungry and depraved. When Nat pulled away to kiss your neck, you felt teeth scrape your skin. You hissed, but not in pain. You were aching for her, pushing her away from you only to grab her hand and pull her upstairs to the bedroom. It was the cleanest part of the house. The first floor was completely leveled thanks to your fight, and when you made love to your wife, you wanted nothing in the way. You pulled Nat into the bathroom, turning on the water in the walk-in shower. Soon, steam began to fill the bathroom as you ripped Nat’s dress off her body. Bruises were already beginning to mar her skin. Red and purple danced across her, and as gently as possible, you kissed the area, uncaring of the dirt that layered her skin. You were already kneeling at her feet, your knees protesting against the tiled floor, but it wasn’t going to stop you. Your hands grabbed her underwear and ripped the garment down her legs, tossing it over your shoulder the moment it was off.
Immediately, your tongue sank into the heated desire of her pussy, and Nat groaned as she tangled her fingers into your hair. You were gentle but hurried, your mouth latching on to her clit while your hands palmed at her ass to keep her pressed against your face. You were buried in her, uncaring of oxygen as you drank her down. It was a taste that you missed, gluttony filling you to the brim as arousal and spit began to drip down your chin and neck. As much as it felt so fucking good, and as much as Nat wanted you down there until her legs couldn’t take it anymore, she had other things on her mind. Using her grip on your hair, she pulled you away from her. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused as your chest heaved. Already, so much of her was smudged across your chin and cheeks. It was a beautiful sight, but one that Nat would have to revel in later.
She helped you to your feet and resumed undressing you hurriedly. Like you, she caressed and kissed all the parts of you that she hurt. Your chest. Your stomach. Especially your head. You didn’t protest, and watching her take care of you was making your legs shake. When you were as naked as she was, Nat pulled you into the shower with her. She made quick work of cleaning you and herself, washing off the dirt and grime from downstairs. The smell of soap filled the air as she cleaned and kissed you, whispering words to you that made you nibble your lip in anticipation.
When she was done, and you were both cleaned, Nat pulled you out of the shower. She dried off while you did the same, the towels abandoned on the floor in haste.
“Bed. Now,” Nat commanded, her voice dark and feral with want.
You were on the mattress before the strap was even secured to her hips. The toy was lubed in a blink of an eye, and Nat was in between your legs with her lips kissing you messily on your neck. Your hands were already clawing at her back as she thrusted her hips gently. The toy parted your center, the thick and textured red silicone brushing against your soaked core and your sensitive clit.
“Be loud for me, sweetheart,” Nat breathed into your ear as she positioned herself. “I need to hear you.”
You were just about to nod, but she was already pushing inside. The stretch was glorious. It burned and ached, the intrusion something that you hadn’t felt in a while but missed all the same. Natasha worked her cock into you using shallow thrusts, taking her time despite wanting nothing more than to devour you whole. You appreciated her care, pulling her down into a sloppy kiss as she thrusted into you until her hips met yours. You were so fucking full. Her strap pressed against all those familiar spots that already had you panting and holding on to her. Your nails dug into her back while you whimpered. Nat smiled, her gaze soft and full of love. She was still gentle, but forceful, with her movements. When she pulled out, it was until nothing but the tip was still nestled in you, the emptiness jarring enough that you opened your mouth to protest. But what came out when she fucked her cock back into you weren’t words. You cried out in ecstasy, your head digging into the pillow as pleasure detonated within you. It exposed your neck to her, and she wasted no time covering it in marks while her hips drove into yours at an intensity that was insane. Natasha wasn’t fast. She never believed in speed. She loved to exercise power, fucking into that one spot inside of you so thoroughly that tears filled your eyes. Your moans of pleasure filled the room along with the wet squelches of your desire.
“Fuck yes,” she growled into your ear while her hands twisted themselves into the sheets for stability. “That’s it, baby girl.”
Her words were driving you wild. Her thrusts were driving you crazy. It was all so much, the stimulation teetering into something so strong and profound that you weren’t sure that you were ready for it. You could feel it now. The pleasure was licking a delicious trail of heat and energy up and down your body. The orgasm was growing in your stomach with every strong slap of her hips. The bed creaked. The headboard knocked against the wall. Your moans were loud and wanton, your nails biting into Nat’s back. You were never this loud during sex, but Nat was pulling it out of you against your will.
“I love you so fucking much,” Nat whispered into your neck. Her face was buried there, her nose breathing you in while she rocked your body into oblivion. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
You were too far gone. There was much to atone for. The lies. The fighting. And everything else in between. There was so much to make right, and that was something that you would focus on in the future. Right now? With your mind a jumbled mess of sex, pleasure, and Natasha? There was only one thing that you could focus on. Your love for her. It spilled out of you just as your climax reached a threshold.
“Fuck!” you cried out. “I love you! I love you! I love you!”
You could do nothing but chant it while your orgasm ripped through you. Nat felt you clench around her strap, and she moaned along with you. She loved this. She loved seeing this. She missed being the reason why you were like this. She held you tighter, fucking you through an orgasm so strong that it stole your breath and made the tears run down your cheeks. She didn’t stop when you clenched around her. She prolonged everything even when she felt your come coat her in a tiny burst of scorching fluid. It was the hottest thing that Nat’s seen in a while, watching you make a mess on her as she fucked as much as she could out of you. It was enough to coat the toy and her thighs, the wet, sinful passes of silicone into your body rivaling your moans and her grunts.
It took a moment to come back into your body, but Natasha was there, stilling her movements when she heard you take a deep breath. She kissed you, softly, deeply, consuming you in a way that made you feel loved, held, and cared for. When she pulled away, she leaned her head against yours, breathing you in while she closed her eyes. There was so much that she needed to say, but this was enough. The closeness. The quiet. Feeling you come back to your body while your heart settled in your chest. There was a small wet patch in the sheets, one that was rapidly cooling beneath you, but whether you knew that it was there, you weren’t reacting to it. Nat didn’t care either, more than eager to let your come soak into her skin if that meant she could hold you closer.
Nat didn’t pull out. She was more than content to lay on top of you, forcing you to cock warm her as she held you close. You didn’t mind either when you held her close and combed your fingers through her hair. She was quiet, her eyes closed as she soaked in the moment with you. You were floating, your post coital bliss turning your muscles into jello as you let yourself melt into the bed.
“Defect,” Natasha said suddenly.
“What?”
“Defect,” she reiterated. “Come to SHIELD and become an agent there.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “Hasn’t your boss been trying to kill me for years?”
Nat shrugged. “Yes, but once he learns of the situation, he’ll realize that there’s value in keeping you alive and you working for him. He’d be stupid not to. He knows your stats and practically has your kill score memorized. You’re the best of the best.”
“I’m not the Black Widow,” you said skeptically as you cupped Nat’s cheek. At that, she smiled and leaned into your touch.
“No, but you are her wife. A wife that she is particularly protective of, may I add. I would sooner haze SHIELD to the ground than let you go.”
That made you laugh, and her eyes twinkled as she took in your smile and your mirth.
“If you can get me there in one piece, then it sounds like a plan.”
Your agency will be gunning for you at any moment. You were sure that they already put a hit out on you for failing to clean up the mess that was your mission. You weren’t concerned, and neither was Natasha. She was sitting up, her hips already pressed against yours as she sat back onto her knees. Her hands grabbed your thighs and spread your legs wider as she began to roll her hips. Your eyes widened as a ripple of pleasure danced through your body.
“I’ll get you wherever you need to go, baby,” she husked, her voice low and full of desire. “But enough of that. I have so much time to make up for.”
It was your only warning before she thrusted into you again, her eyes darkening as she drank you in. Her hands held you close to her, her fingers digging into the fleshy parts of your ass as she used her momentum to fuck you onto her strap. You couldn’t stop the moan, some slight sensitivity making you clench and suck her in deeper.
“I love you so fucking much, baby,” she whispered to you. She was smiling, full and deep as she held you impossibly closer.
“I-” you tried, but you choked on a gasp, one caused by the woman who was now pounding into you. “Shit...I love you too. So, so much.”
Synopsis: You hid a bleeding stranger inside your bookstore for one night. unfortunately, he turned out to be phantom’s deadliest assassin — and loving him meant surviving the war that followed.
WC: 11.5k!
— “You made me human.”
Rain had a way of making Seoul look dangerous.
Not beautiful. Not romantic.
Dangerous.
The city lights bled into wet pavement while sirens echoed somewhere far away, swallowed by thunder and heavy traffic. People hurried beneath umbrellas, too distracted to notice the blood trail smeared across the sidewalk.
Lee Heeseung kept walking anyway.
His left hand pressed against the wound near his ribs while his other hand gripped the gun hidden beneath his jacket. Every breath burned. His vision flickered black for seconds at a time.
The mission had been simple.
Enter the penthouse.
Eliminate the target.
Disappear.
That was what Phantom did.
The organization never failed. Never missed. Never left witnesses alive.
Especially not Heeseung.
He was their prodigy. Youngest assassin in the network. Efficient. Emotionless. Replaceable.
Except tonight someone had betrayed him.
The target had known he was coming.
There were guards waiting.
Snipers.
An ambush.
And now half the city police force was hunting a ghost bleeding through downtown Seoul.
He turned sharply into a quieter neighborhood, breathing unevenly.
Then he saw the bookstore.
Warm lights glowed through rain-covered windows. Small. Old-fashioned. Safe-looking.
It looked painfully out of place in a city like this.
Moonlit Pages.
Heeseung stared at it for one exhausted second before his legs finally gave out beneath him.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
—
You hated closing alone.
The bookstore was tiny, tucked between a flower shop and an old café that barely survived every winter. Most days were slow, but you loved it anyway.
You loved the smell of old paper.
Loved organizing shelves nobody messed up.
Loved recommending books to lonely people who stayed longer than necessary because they needed somewhere quiet.
Maybe that’s why you noticed him immediately.
At first, you thought someone had dumped trash bags beside the alley wall near your shop.
Then lightning flashed.
And you saw blood.
Your heart nearly stopped.
“Oh my god—”
You rushed outside before common sense could stop you.
The man looked terrifying even unconscious.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Black clothes soaked with rain and blood.
A deep cut near his eyebrow.
His lips slightly parted from uneven breathing.
Definitely not harmless.
You crouched carefully beside him.
“Hey,” you whispered nervously. “Can you hear me?”
His eyes opened instantly.
Dark brown.
Sharp enough to make your chest tighten.
Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist violently and yanked you closer.
“Police…” he rasped. “Don’t.”
You stared at him in shock.
There was something terrifying about him.
Not just his appearance.
His eyes.
People with normal lives didn’t look like that.
Like they’d seen too much death.
“You need a hospital,” you whispered.
“No hospitals.”
Blood dripped from his fingers.
The sirens sounded closer this time.
Then suddenly his grip loosened.
And he collapsed again.
You looked between the unconscious stranger and the empty street.
This was insane.
Absolutely insane.
But somehow…
You dragged him inside anyway.
—
Kim Sunoo almost choked on his iced coffee when he saw the injured man unconscious on your couch.
“You kidnapped a criminal?!”
“I didn’t kidnap him!”
“You literally dragged a bleeding stranger into your apartment!”
“He would’ve died!”
Sunoo stared at you like you’d lost your mind.
“You know serial killers are attractive sometimes too, right?”
“He doesn’t look like a serial killer.”
Sunoo blinked.
“That somehow makes this worse.”
You ignored him while changing the stranger’s bandages carefully. The bullet had passed through cleanly, thankfully, but the amount of scars covering his body bothered you.
Burn marks.
Knife scars.
Old bullet wounds.
Who was this guy?
Your fingers brushed lightly against another scar near his shoulder.
His hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist.
Fast.
Too fast.
You gasped.
His eyes were open again.
Cold.
Alert.
Dangerous.
Even injured, he looked capable of killing someone.
“Who are you?” you whispered.
Instead of answering, his gaze scanned the room automatically. Doors. Windows. Exits.
The stranger slowly sat up despite the obvious pain.
“Answer me.”
You swallowed nervously. “I hid it.”
“Why?”
“Because you passed out while holding it?”
Silence.
The rain tapped softly against the windows.
Then finally—
“What’s your name?”
You hesitated before answering.
He studied you for a long moment.
Then quietly said—
“Heeseung.”
Just Heeseung.
Nothing else.
—
Days passed strangely after that.
Heeseung barely spoke.
He moved through your apartment like someone unused to existing peacefully. Every sound made him alert. Every stranger outside made him tense.
Sometimes you caught him staring blankly at nothing for minutes at a time.
Like his mind never rested.
You learned little things about him slowly.
He hated loud music.
He drank coffee black.
He barely slept.
And he never smiled.
Not once.
Meanwhile your life continued normally around him.
You opened the bookstore every morning at eight.
Handled rude customers.
Argued with delivery companies.
Listened to Sunoo complain dramatically about university assignments while pretending he wasn’t fascinated by your mysterious houseguest.
“His face card is genuinely insane,” Sunoo whispered one afternoon while Heeseung silently read near the window downstairs.
You kicked his ankle under the counter.
“Ow—”
“He can hear you.”
“I know.”
Heeseung turned a page calmly without looking up.
“I can.”
Sunoo nearly screamed.
You laughed before you could stop yourself.
And for the first time—
You saw Heeseung freeze slightly at the sound.
Like laughter was unfamiliar.
That realization stayed with you all night.
—
The organization was hidden beneath a luxury hotel no one questioned.
Money covered blood easily.
Park Jongseong sat at the head of the meeting table while chaos unfolded around him.
“He vanished after the mission.”
“He killed six guards while injured.”
“Police surveillance lost him near Mapo.”
Jake Sim leaned back lazily in his chair, spinning a knife between his fingers.
“He’s alive,” Jake said casually.
Jay’s expression darkened slightly.
“Heeseung has never disappeared before.”
Everyone in Phantom knew what that meant.
Assassins didn’t run.
Not unless something changed them first.
Sunghoon folded his arms quietly. “Maybe he was compromised.”
“No,” Jay replied instantly.
“Then what?”
Silence.
Jake smirked faintly.
“Maybe our perfect little weapon finally found something human.”
—
The first time Heeseung smiled was over instant ramen.
It happened accidentally.
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor complaining dramatically about a customer who tried flirting with you by quoting poetry badly.
“And then he compared my eyes to microwaved soup.”
Heeseung looked genuinely confused.
“…Soup?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then unexpectedly—
A small laugh escaped him.
Soft.
Brief.
But real.
You stared at him in shock.
Heeseung looked equally surprised.
Because nobody in Phantom laughed.
Nobody joked.
Nobody lived long enough to become soft.
Yet somehow your tiny apartment smelled like coffee and ramen and safety.
And Heeseung was starting to hate leaving it.
Which terrified him.
—
Three weeks later, the bookstore door opened at exactly 9:17 PM.
Heeseung noticed immediately.
The man entering wore an expensive coat and polite smile, but his posture was military.
Danger.
You smiled warmly from behind the counter. “Sorry, we’re almost closed.”
The stranger’s eyes drifted toward Heeseung sitting nearby.
Recognition flashed instantly.
Then amusement.
“Well,” he murmured. “This is unexpected.”
Heeseung stood slowly.
Your stomach tightened.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Sharp. Suffocating.
“You know him?” you asked nervously.
Neither answered.
Then suddenly the stranger pulled out a gun.
Everything happened too fast.
Heeseung shoved you behind a bookshelf just as gunfire exploded through the store.
Glass shattered.
Books crashed everywhere.
You screamed.
Heeseung moved like something inhuman.
Fast.
Precise.
Violent.
He disarmed the attacker within seconds, slamming him hard against the counter before twisting the gun from his hands.
The stranger laughed despite blood dripping from his mouth.
“She really doesn’t know who you are.”
Your breathing shook violently.
“Heeseung…”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t.”
But the stranger grinned cruelly.
“Your boyfriend kills people for a living.”
Silence.
The words echoed painfully through the ruined bookstore.
You looked at Heeseung slowly.
And the worst part?
He didn’t deny it.
—
You couldn’t breathe properly afterward.
The apartment suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Unsafe.
“You lied to me.”
Heeseung stood near the kitchen silently while blood stained his knuckles from the fight downstairs.
“Yes.”
“What are you?”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“A weapon.”
The answer made your chest ache unexpectedly.
Not because you feared him.
Because he genuinely believed that about himself.
“You kill people,” you whispered.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Heeseung stayed silent.
And somehow silence was worse.
You looked away quickly, overwhelmed.
Everything made sense now.
The scars.
The nightmares.
The emptiness in his eyes.
You should’ve been terrified.
Maybe part of you was.
But another part remembered him reading quietly beside the bookstore window.
Remembered him carrying heavy boxes for you without asking.
Remembered him standing outside your bedroom every night after nightmares because he thought you couldn’t hear him checking if you were safe.
Your voice cracked slightly.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because I wanted this to feel real for a little longer.”
And that hurt more than anything else.
—
The organization wanted you dead immediately.
Loose ends created risks.
Jay stood beside the massive window overlooking Seoul while Heeseung remained silent behind him.
“You know the rules.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you hesitating?”
Because you smiled at him like he wasn’t a monster.
Because you made coffee exactly how he liked it without asking.
Because you looked at him like a person instead of a weapon.
Heeseung clenched his jaw.
“I won’t kill her.”
The room fell silent.
Jake looked almost entertained.
Sunghoon looked worried.
Jay slowly turned around.
“You’re choosing a civilian over Phantom?”
“No,” Heeseung said quietly.
“I’m choosing myself for the first time.”
And that sentence changed everything.
Because now Phantom wasn’t hunting a witness.
They were hunting one of their own.
—
After that, chaos followed everywhere.
You stopped sleeping peacefully.
Strange cars appeared outside the bookstore.
Your apartment got broken into twice.
Police started investigating the shooting downtown.
And Heeseung became terrifyingly protective.
One night you woke up at 3 AM and found him sitting on the floor beside your bed holding a gun.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching the hallway.”
Your heart hurt instantly.
“Heeseung…”
“They know where you live.”
“You need sleep.”
“I need you alive.”
The way he said it made your chest tighten painfully.
Like your safety mattered more than his own existence.
You sat beside him quietly.
For a while neither of you spoke.
Then softly—
“Do you regret meeting me?”
Heeseung answered immediately.
“No.”
Not hesitation.
Not uncertainty.
Just honesty.
And somehow that scared you more than the gun in his hands.
Because you were falling in love with someone dangerous.
Someone broken.
Someone the world would never forgive.
—
The betrayal came from Sunghoon.
Or at least that’s what it looked like.
Heeseung walked into an abandoned warehouse expecting information.
Instead he found you tied to a chair surrounded by armed men.
Your terrified eyes met his instantly.
“Heeseung—”
A gun pressed against your head.
Jay stepped from the shadows calmly.
“You were always our best assassin,” he said softly. “It’s disappointing seeing you like this.”
Heeseung’s expression stayed unreadable.
But his hands trembled slightly.
“You used her as bait.”
“She’s your weakness.”
“No,” Heeseung replied quietly.
“She’s the reason I remembered I’m human.”
And then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire exploded everywhere.
You screamed as bullets tore through metal walls.
Heeseung moved through the chaos like death itself.
Brutal.
Efficient.
Terrifying.
But this time he wasn’t killing for money.
He was fighting for you.
And somehow that made him even more dangerous.
—
By the end of the night, Seoul burned behind you both.
The bookstore was gone.
Your apartment destroyed.
Phantom hunting you endlessly.
You sat beside Heeseung on the rooftop of an abandoned building while dawn slowly painted the sky pink.
Everything hurt.
Your life had become unrecognizable in weeks.
“You can still leave,” Heeseung said quietly.
You looked at him.
Bruised face.
Bloodied hands.
Eyes filled with exhaustion and fear and something heartbreakingly soft whenever he looked at you.
“Do you want me to?”
His answer was immediate.
“No.”
Then after a pause—
“But you deserve better.”
You laughed weakly despite everything.
“You know what’s funny?”
Heeseung frowned slightly.
“I think I stopped caring about ‘better’ a long time ago.”
For the first time in his life, Heeseung looked genuinely emotional.
Not empty.
Not cold.
Just human.
The wind blew softly across the rooftop while the city woke beneath you.
And somewhere between violence and survival and ruined futures—
You reached for his hand.
This time he held yours back immediately.
Like he finally understood he didn’t have to survive alone anymore.
The rooftop became your temporary home for three days.
Three cold nights beneath flickering city lights and stolen moments of sleep.
Heeseung barely rested.
Every sound made him alert instantly. Every passing car had his hand reaching for a weapon automatically. You started noticing how deeply fear had been carved into him—not fear for himself, but fear of losing you.
By the fourth morning, exhaustion finally caught up to both of you.
Sunoo found you first.
“You both look insane,” he whispered the second he opened the rusted rooftop door.
You nearly cried from relief.
Sunoo carried bags filled with snacks, medicine, and clothes while muttering angrily under his breath.
“I cannot believe my life turned into an action movie because you decided to save a hot stranger.”
Heeseung sat silently nearby cleaning blood from a knife.
Sunoo pointed immediately.
“That. That right there is exactly what I mean.”
Despite the situation, you laughed weakly.
Heeseung glanced toward you instinctively at the sound.
Always instinctively now.
Sunoo noticed too.
And his expression softened slightly.
“You really love her, huh?”
The silence afterward answered everything.
Heeseung didn’t deny it.
Couldn’t.
Not anymore.
—
The safehouse Sunoo brought you to belonged to his cousin in Busan. Tiny apartment. Broken heater. Terrible wallpaper.
But it was hidden.
For a little while, life almost became normal again.
Almost.
You started working mornings at a small café nearby under a fake name. The owner liked you immediately because you smiled day.
Sometimes you’d come home to find him cooking badly while watching random television shows with the volume too low.
Sometimes you’d catch him staring out the window for hours.
And sometimes—
The nightmares came back.
Violently.
One night you woke to the sound of glass shattering.
You rushed into the kitchen and froze.
Heeseung stood there breathing heavily, a knife clenched in his shaking hand while broken glass covered the floor around him.
His eyes looked distant.
Terrified.
Like he was somewhere else entirely.
“Heeseung…”
He flinched at your voice.
Then immediately looked horrified.
“You shouldn’t have come out.”
You slowly approached him anyway.
“It was just a nightmare.”
“No.” His voice cracked slightly. “It wasn’t.”
The knife slipped from his hand loudly.
“I saw them again.”
You knew who he meant.
The people he’d killed.
The people Phantom made him become.
Heeseung sank down against the kitchen counter, running a trembling hand through his hair.
“I can still hear them sometimes.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
For so long everyone only feared him.
Nobody stopped to ask what surviving violence had done to him.
You crouched beside him carefully.
“Heeseung…”
His voice lowered.
“You should hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t know everything.”
“Then tell me.”
Silence filled the room.
Rain tapped softly against the windows again.
Always rain.
Finally, Heeseung looked at you with eyes that no longer looked cold.
Just tired.
“When I was fifteen, Phantom recruited me after my parents died.” His voice sounded hollow. “I was good at surviving. They liked that.”
Your heart broke quietly.
“They trained me to stop feeling things. Every mission got easier after a while.” He swallowed hard. “Then eventually people just became targets instead of humans.”
You listened silently.
“They told me emotions were weaknesses.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “Turns out they were right.”
“Why?”
“Because now I’d burn the entire world down for you.”
The confession stole your breath away completely.
Not dramatic.
Not poetic.
Terrifyingly honest.
And somehow that made tears burn behind your eyes.
You moved closer without thinking and wrapped your arms around him tightly.
At first, Heeseung froze.
Like he still wasn’t used to being touched gently.
Then slowly—
His arms wrapped around you too.
Careful.
Almost afraid.
And for the first time since meeting him, Lee Heeseung cried silently into your shoulder.
—
But peace never lasted long.
Three weeks later, Phantom found you.
Again.
You were closing the café one snowy evening when the lights suddenly cut out.
Your stomach dropped instantly.
Wrong.
Everything felt wrong.
Then your phone buzzed.
RUN.
From Heeseung.
Gunshots exploded outside seconds later.
Customers screamed.
You ducked behind the counter as glass shattered everywhere.
Your heartbeat slammed violently against your ribs.
“Heeseung!” you shouted.
The café door burst open.
And there he was.
Blood running down the side of his face.
Gun in hand.
Eyes wild with panic.
“Come here.”
You ran toward him immediately.
More gunfire erupted behind you.
Heeseung grabbed your hand and pulled you through the back exit into freezing snow-covered alleys.
People screamed nearby.
Cars crashed.
Somewhere behind you, Phantom agents followed relentlessly.
“Heeseung—”
“Keep running.”
His voice sounded terrifyingly calm.
Which somehow scared you more.
You turned another corner before suddenly freezing.
Jay stood directly ahead.
Black coat.
Calm expression.
Gun pointed at Heeseung.
Everything stopped.
Snow fell softly between them.
“You were my greatest creation,” Jay said quietly.
Heeseung stepped slightly in front of you protectively.
“I’m not yours anymore.”
Jay sighed almost sadly.
“She made you weak.”
“No.” Heeseung’s grip on your hand tightened. “She made me human.”
And then—
The gun fired.
You screamed.
But Heeseung didn’t fall.
Jay did.
A bullet pierced his shoulder from across the alley.
Everyone turned sharply.
Sunghoon stood on a rooftop nearby holding a sniper rifle.
“Move!” he shouted.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Heeseung pulled you forward while Phantom agents scattered under sniper fire. Snow crunched violently beneath your shoes as you both ran through crowded streets without looking back.
By the time police arrived—
Phantom had vanished.
Again.
—
The end came quietly after that.
Almost strangely quietly.
Weeks passed.
Then months.
One by one, Phantom members disappeared.
Arrested.
Dead.
Exposed.
Sunghoon had leaked everything anonymously to authorities before disappearing completely.
The organization collapsed from the inside.
And for the first time in years—
Heeseung was free.
Actually free.
No missions.
No blood.
No orders.
Just silence.
It terrified him at first.
People like Heeseung weren’t taught how to live normal lives.
The smallest things confused him.
Grocery shopping.
Paying bills.
Choosing what to eat.
Sleeping peacefully.
But slowly, carefully—
He learned.
Because of you.
—
A year later, Moonlit Pages reopened in a quieter part of Seoul.
Smaller store.
New shelves.
New windows.
Safer neighborhood.
The bell above the entrance jingled softly while evening sunlight spilled across wooden floors.
You stood behind the counter organizing new arrivals when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind.
Set in The Assassin’s Assistant Universe (Assassin AU)
Summary: One of your team is MIA, one of them has taken out his hearing aids, and the office is attacked what could possibly go wrong? Or alternatively the office is attacked with Clint inside, and he somehow misses the whole thing.
Pairings/Characters: Slight fem!reader x assassin!Bucky, assassin!Clint, assassin!Loki, mentioned assassin!Natasha
WC: 2,425
TW: Swears, cannon level violence, no use of Y/N, mostly crack, little protective Bucky, more comic book aligned Clint with hearing aids.
A/N: Hey y'all, it's been a minute (or 5 years I guess) since I've written anything but got the bug to try and knock the rust off with another one shot from the Assassin's Assistant Universe. I'm still not sure if I'm happy with this but here you go.
Divider by: @firefly-graphics
It was early, probably like 11:30 or maybe noon, when Clint woke to the sound of you and Bucky arguing in his office.
“You don’t just get to come in here and cherry pick jobs Barnes there is a system!” you shouted.
“I sure as shit get to cherry pick my jobs, this is my agency.”
“And you hired me to organize it because you were incapable of doing so. I devised a system that you ALL agreed to, you don’t get to change the rules simply because you don’t want to do a job in the snow.”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m taking the job in the Bahamas and you can send Loki to Sibera.”
“First, not Siberia, it's Northern Canada…”
“Tomato, tomato”
You let out a little growl before continuing “.... and Loki already left for the job in the Bahamas so sorry about your luck. You’re going.” Clint heard what sounded like you slapping a file into Bucky’s chest as you started walking back towards the lounge. When Bucky's door slammed immediately after Clint sighed, turned off his hearing aids and rolled towards the back of the couch.
You stomped through the lounge glancing briefly at Clint asleep on the couch. He swore up and down he had an apartment, or house, or some sort of dwelling with a bed but most days you found him crashed out in the lounge. You huffed when you saw him still agitated after your argument with Bucky,
“Clint! I literally bought you a murphy bed for your office, go sleep there.” You grumbled at him, kicking the corner of the couch to get his attention. Clint lifted his head briefly looking at you and pointed at his ears to tell you his hearing aids were off. You rolled your eyes, stomped your foot a little and pointed towards his office, communicating your desires wordlessly. He just waved you off, grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and took his hearing aids out completely for good measure.
“UGHHHHH” you screamed quietly through clenched teeth. Tash had taken some ‘personal development time’ whatever that meant and had left you alone with these three idiots for two weeks. Her absence and lack of communication had you and Bucky both a little on edge. Clint wasn’t worried, she did this occasionally, and he knew she had about 75 different ways to get in touch if something was actually wrong.
But you and Bucky had been fighting like cats and dogs lately. If asked you both would say it was because you were tense about Natasha being incommunicado for so long, or that the other was impossible. Everyone else in the office knew you two just had too much unresolved sexual tension and were taking bets on how it was going to explode resolve. Tash had $150 on you caving first, Clint knew his little booger was fueled mostly on spite so he had $350 on Bucky caving first, and Loki was fairly confident you had an undiscovered murderous streak so he put $500 on you killing Bucky rather than inviting him into your bed.
Two hours later you were sitting in the lobby catching up on some paperwork, still grumbling under your breath about insufferable men when Loki came flying through the door slamming it behind him. He quickly locked it, pulled the rolling shade down over the window and pressed his back up against the door while reaching for the light switch, breathing heavily like he just ran several miles.
“Loki! What the fuck you’re supposed to be…” He cut you off, shushing you with a finger to his lips. With three large strides he was at your desk.
“Cameras, quickly.” he hissed under his breath. You froze for just a second before your brain kicked in and you pulled up the interior and exterior cameras you had insisted on installing shortly after starting. There were three large men in tactical gear slinking through the alley towards the back of the building.
“Who the fuck are they?” you whispered
“That would be the lovely man you dispatched me to take care of and his brothers I believe.”
“You missed?!” You hissed incredulously, briefly looking at him when he turned to give you a withering look.
“The plane didn’t get off the ground, the whole thing was a setup.” He hissed.
“Okay,” you said, your mind whirling, “what do we do?”
“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “I engaged some extra security measures on my way back. The only way they get in is if they hack down the exterior door with an axe.”
“Okay… okay. Yeah. That’s good because who brings an axe to an assasination attempt.” You chuckled weakly, mind still reeling a bit.
“Exactly.” Loki replied. You both turned back to the computer screen only to see the largest of the three assailants hand his gun to one of the others and start rigging explosives to the door.
“Uhhhh… Loki?” You squeaked out as you both watched the men set a few charges on the door and take a few steps back. “I think explosives beat axe.” you continued with a thin voice.
“Well this is inconvenient isn’t it.” Loki drawled, before pulling you down behind the desk and attempting to shield your body with his as the door exploded inwards.
Bucky was stomping around his office packing his bag to go to fucking Sibiera, well technically the Yukon, but same difference it was going to be cold and full of snow.
“Oh Loki, please take this job with the sun and the sand” Bucky said in a high whiny voice, intentionally mocking you. “Yeah don’t worry about Bucky he can fuck off to the snow like always.” he muttered as he continued to pull weapons and gear out of his hidden wall safe.
He stopped short when he heard what sounded like an explosion in the lobby. His only thought was you, out there completely unprotected. He quickly grabbed a rifle and a handgun out of the still open safe before hurtling towards you.
Dust and debris from the explosion was just starting to settle when he reached the lobby. He glanced around quickly assessing the situation. Just as he was about to call out for you the distinctive hiss and clink of a smoke bomb sounded to his right. Turning quickly he kicked the smoke bomb back towards the opening in the wall where the door should be.
He quickly took a couple of steps towards the desk and hissed your name. Like a meerkat you popped up from behind the desk quickly followed by Loki.
“I’m okay,” you said “We have a situation,” Loki said at the same time.
“I can see that” Bucky hissed as he jumped over the desk and crouched down behind it. He squeezed your hand quickly and gave you a once over as if to assure himself that you were telling the truth. All three of your heads swiveled towards the hole in the wall at the sounds of guns cocking. “You” he pointed, “get to tash’s office now and lock the door, stay low.” He said urgently as he handed a spare weapon to Loki.
You started crawling towards the back offices, “Quickly” Bucky shouted at you as bullets started flying over your head. If you weren’t so scared for your life you would’ve had some sassy retort you were sure of it. As soon as you got to the kitchen you stood up and sprinted towards Natasha’s office, locking the door behind you as instructed.
Clint woke again, based on the light in the room he figured it was probably close to 3 at this point, a much more respectable time to get up for the day. Plus he really had to pee. He caught the barest glimpse of you running by as he sat up. He shrugged to himself and headed towards the bathroom.
He patted down his pockets, looking for his phone, as he exited the bathroom. When the search of his pockets came up empty he headed back towards the lounge assuming it was on the couch somewhere. He wandered down the hallway so lost in his thoughts he totally missed you waving at him urgently through the window on Natasha’s door.
After trading gunfire for a bit the assailants grew impatient and threw aside their weapons in favor of hand to hand combat. They were fairly evenly matched for Bucky and Loki.
Trading punches and kicks, Bucky was finally able to get his hands around his opponent's neck and quickly snap it. As he was dropping the body he heard Loki cry out behind him followed by a thud, but before he could turn around he was violently thrown to the side as the other assailant cracked one of the lobby chairs across Bucky’s torso.
From where he fell Bucky was able to spin around quickly and kick out his assailant's knees. They both began scrambling for the gun that Loki had dropped a few feet away. Bucky’s fingers just brushed the grip of the gun as his attacker kneed him hard in the ribs right where the chair had just connected.
“Oof,’ he grunted as he continued to grapple for the gun despite all the air being knocked out of his lungs. Finally getting the upper hand Bucky swung the gun into his opponent’s temple knocking him unconscious.
Loki groaned as he regained consciousness, rolling over onto his back he glanced at Bucky taking stock of the two attachers. “There was a third. Where did he go?”
Getting back to the lounge Clint shoved his hearing aids in his pocket and shook out the blanket he was previously using on the couch still looking for his phone. Tossing it aside before grabbing the cute little throw pillows you had purchased and throwing those on the floor too.
“Where the hell did it go,” he started talking to himself. He pulled out all the couch cushions thinking it slipped between those. When he still couldn’t find it he started looking all around the lounge.
“Bingo,” he whispered, his whole body pressed to the floor looking under the couch. His phone was just barely visible under Catserole’s paws, she must have pulled it under the couch while he was sleeping. Clint felt the floor vibrate twice as if two heavy things had suddenly fallen to the ground, he looked around briefly but not seeing anything just shrugged and started trying to extricate his phone from under the sleeping cat.
He stretched as far under as his arm would go and his fingers were just brushing the edge of his phone. He grumbled and scooted infinitesimally closer to try and extend his reach.
You huff a breath as Clint walks by totally oblivious to your shouting and waving at him. Not a big deal, you think, he’ll totally notice what's going on when he gets back up front. Deciding you had nothing better to do you headed over to Nat’s bookshelf, slid aside the copy of ‘Worlds Deadliest Weapons’ and grabbed the romance novel you knew she kept stashed back there.
Just as you were settling into the couch a shadow fell over the window. You had only seconds to pull the book up in front of your face gritting your teeth as small shards of glass bit into your arms, luckily the book protected you from the worst of it. You leapt off the couch backing towards the door as the largest of the three masked men clambered through the window. Once inside he slowly started walking towards you spreading up the closer you got to the door.
Before you could reach the handle he was on you, grabbing your arm and roughly pulling you back towards the center of the office. “Not a chance bitch.”
You quickly twist your wrist and pull, easily breaking out of his hold. As soon as your hands were free you grabbed his wrist with one hand pulling him towards you, with your other hand you reached up behind his neck and pulled down while driving your knee up into his nose twice before letting go, just the way Nat had taught you.
His hands automatically came up to grab his face as he cried out in pain. You dashed around him heading for the door and skidding out into the hallway, you started running for the lobby as fast as you could with your now, slightly disoriented, attacker hot on your heels.
“Yes!” Clint shouts after finally extricating his phone from under the couch. He starts scrolling through his missed notifications as he heads towards the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. his eyes widening as he reads the missed text from Nat.
N: Company is coming, be ready. Send booger home.
You close your eyes and promise the universe to do more cardio if you survive this, and run right past Clint as you dash towards the lobby. Your eyes slam open at the sound of Bucky shouting your name.
“Down!” he yelled, setting his feet and raising the gun in his hand. Without thinking you dropped and slid into the lobby like you were sliding into home plate then crawling quickly to the far wall. Bucky fired three times in quick succession each one hitting the man chasing you, two in the chest, one in the head. He took a few automatic steps backwards from the force of the bullets before falling and going still.
“You okay?” Bucky asked, worriedly eyeing you as you slowly slid over so your back was against the wall.
You nodded, eyes closed resting your head against the wall. You cracked one eye open and turned towards Bucky who was slowly tying up the unconscious attacker. “Hey Buck?”
“Yeah?
“I’m going to send Clint to Siberia, okay?”
He chuckled lightly as he made his way over to you. “Sounds good Doll.”
In the kitchen Clint quickly shoved his hearing aids back in and ran out toward the lobby yelling.
“Hey guys, we’ve got company coming…” His eyes widened as slid into the destroyed vestibule.
“Thanks Clint,” Bucky groaned, clutching at his side to keep his almost assuredly broken ribs steady, as he slowly sank down against the wall next to you. “We’ve got it covered” he said, reaching over and tucking you into his uninjured side placing a light kiss on the crown of your head as you relaxed against him.
