#nat angst

[lyak12]

hi! great job on ur latest fic, it was so good. i have a small idea so feel free to add whatever you’d like to this. Its nat/r, concept: its that they go on a misson together and have to stay in a safehouse but it only has one bed… sorry if thats to vague but it lets you have full control and where it goes 🙏

One bed many problems

Summary: Nat and you broke up not long before and a complicated mission with just one bed caused not only a heated argument but also true feeling to be revealed.

word cound: 2115

Warnings: verbal fight, tears lots of tears, maybe angst a little? idk lmk if I need to add anything

A/N: Well... its been a while and I'm really sorry but I finally found the time to get some writing done and I'm not too mad about it actually. I hope you like what I made out of your idea. I think this is the most angst I've written so far lol I hope you enjoy reading!

You were tired.

Your head hurt.

You just wanted some peace and quiet.

Walking along a dirt path deeper into the woods you just ignored the constant comments Natasha made walking next to you. Just hoping you’d reach the safe house quickly.

Natasha and you broke up barely a month ago. One of the reasons for it being her constant flirting with Bruce which she obviously denied. You know she was not used to long term relationships but you opened yourself up to her completely and her flirting starting barely a week later hurt you more than you’d like to admit.

Nevertheless the missions had to be done and as much as you hated it Natasha was one of the best in Intel collecting. Turns out though your information about the security system where not up to date. You had to fight your way in and out and honestly everything that could go wrong went wrong.

That’s how you found yourself in the current situation. On the way to a safe house, both of you slightly beat up and Natasha blaming you for everything. You just wanted to rest for the night and go back home to continue to avoid her the best you can. You wanted to be the bigger person, you really did but she hurt you and not just a little. The worst part was you still loved her and you knew you’d always will.

“Y/N! Stop ignoring me!”, your name brought you back to reality and you couldn’t help but sigh. “I’m not ignoring you Nat”, you answered, tiredness obvious in your voice but Natasha could care less. “We both know you are! This could’ve ended a lot worse Y/N and you know that! Did you even prepare for the mission?”, she almost yelled accusingly.

There it was. The same accusing tone as in the many fights before you broke up. Where she accused you of being paranoid and not being all in in the relationship.

Taking a deep breath to stay calm you just closed your eyes for a second. You didn’t want to fight. You were way too exhausted for that but if you knew one thing about Natasha, she would push it so far until you snap. “I did. It’s not my fault our information were this old, Natasha”, you stated and pinched the bridge of your nose trying to ease the headache a little but without success.

Finally the house started to come into view and you almost believed that she was done fighting until she spat “You should’ve checked the information!”. “Oh yeah? And when was I supposed to do that? You know damn well that I just got home from the last mission. I barely had time to finish the mission report for that mission and shower”, you said as monotone as you could manage. Not willing to let her work you up but it was honestly getting harder by the minute.

Opening the door with the hidden key you both stepped inside. It was way smaller than you expected. Barely any furniture in the cold room. A small table with two chairs next to a tiny kitchen. A small two-seater in front of the fireplace with a small table next to it. A small hallway which probably lead to the bathroom and bedroom. You could feel she was about to throw something else at your head so you just made your way down the hallway in hope to stop her. Without luck.

“I don’t care Y/N! You had one job and you managed to mess that up too!”, Natasha threw at your head and that cut deep. Swallowing down the lump in your throat you open the door to bedroom. You close your eyes shortly at the sight. There was only one bed. “You must be kidding me!”, spoke Natasha from behind you. You could feel her warm breath in you neck and just took a deep breath. Walking into the room you search for an extra blanket but come up empty. Sighing defeated you said “I’ll take the couch”.

Walking past her back into the main room you can tell she wants to blame you for this situation too. Before she could say something though you said “Good night Natasha”. Quickly throwing some wood into the fireplace you start a fire in hope to keep yourself warm enough through the night to not die of hypothermia.

Kicking off your shoes you lay down on the small couch and massage the bridge of your nose again. Your head was killing you. You honestly just wanted to sleep but this whole situation was weighing hard on you. Before you could stop it tears started to roll down your cheeks. Crying quietly to hopefully lift some of the pressure off your chest you once again heard Natasha storm your way before you could get that relief.

“Y/N! We need to talk about what went wrong today”, she said as she got into the room and you couldn’t help but sigh shakily. “I’m not in the mood to talk Natasha”, you answered not opening your eyes or lift your hand from your face. Instead of receiving an answer she roughly pushed your feet from the sofa, almost causing you to fall off completely and that’s when you had enough too. You could take a lot but this was too much.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, you yelled at her while angrily wiping the tears from your cheeks. “What’s wrong with me? Why are you being so egoistic?”, she yelled back. Her green eyes you used to love so much starring at you angrily. “I’m being egoistic? I’m sorry that I just want to have some peace and quiet after not sleeping and having you snap at me all day! Blaming me for everything! I’m sorry that I don’t want to talk after that”, you spat angrily and she rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m the bad guy now. Everything is always about you but you won’t admit it when you messed up! It’s always the same just like when you overreact and destroy everything”, she countered angrily and you knew exactly that this was not about the mission anymore.

You laugh angrily but could feel the tears threating to fall again as you said “I know everything is my fault. I overreact and mess everything up. Apparently I can’t get anything right or please you. You could never do anything wrong”. You couldn’t stop the tears anymore. You were hurting especially as Nat blamed you that your relationship didn’t work out. “Don’t act like its my fault! You pulled back! You were the one with one foot out the door. You didn’t love me anymore!”, she argued heatedly and that just made something snap in you.

“I loved you! I trusted you Natasha! I spread open my whole past to you. Told you the things that scare me the most and made myself vulnerable in front of you! Just for you to start flirting with Bruce! I felt betrayed. I felt like you used my trust. Like all of the things that come with me where too much to handle for you. Yes I pulled back because your behavior hurt me. I wasn’t with one foot out the door, you were Natasha. And as you accused me of not trusting you and called me cold, you broke me! And even after all the things you put me through, making me doubt myself, calling me insensitive in front of the rest of the team, I still love you!”, you screamed fully sobbing by now.

You could see how Natasha’s look softened. Like she finally realized the reason for you to pull back was her. She was lost for words and crying that hard in your exhausted state made it hard to keep standing so you sat down on the couch and buried your head in your hands. All of the anger that flowed through Natasha’s veins was suddenly replaced with guilt especially seeing you so broken and exhausted. She could tell you haven’t been getting much sleep lately.

Kneeling down next to you she placed a hand on your knee causing you to turn your head to look at her through your tears. “I..I-I”, she started but swallowed hard before taking a deep breath. It wasn’t like Natasha to stumble over her words, so you knew that whatever she was trying to say was something from deep within. Looking in your eyes she gently wiped your tears before she said “I still love you too”.

She could see the surprise in your face as she said that because honestly that was the last thing you expected. You wanted to say something but she stopped you. She needed to tell you this now or she never would. “As you told me about your past I was a little overwhelmed, I won’t lie. I suddenly realized that you were in this for the long run and I didn’t know what to do with that. So I did what I knew I could do best and flirt with Bruce, ignore the inner turmoil in me. It never was serious with him and even though I knew it would hurt you I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t feel like figuring out what I truly want. I saw you distancing yourself and even though I didn’t want to lose you I couldn’t bring myself to stop you. Being this mean to you was just my way of coping and I know it was wrong and I know that I hurt you but the thought of loosing you again takes away the air for me to breathe. I can’t let that happen. I know that it’s probably too late and I can understand when you don’t want anything to do with me anymore but I can’t let you go without a fight this time”, she confessed while tears started to run down her cheeks as well.

You’ve never seen Natasha this vulnerable. This truthful and unguarded. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath to sort your thoughts. Even though she admitted to realizing how she made you feel, something in you healed at her confession. Opening your eyes again you saw her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to keep herself together. Gently caressing her cheek you dried her tears, causing her to flinch slightly before relaxing into your touch. As those green eyes opened you could clearly tell that she was scared and just seeing this vulnerable side of her warmed something in you.

“I’m really sorry”, she whispered and you gave her a small smile. “Maybe there is a second chance for us, but it’ll take time”, you said with a small smile and the hope you could see in her eyes just warmed your heart. The sweet moment was interrupted as a shiver ran down your spine. During all this the fire burned out and it was starting to cool down really quick. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead she rested her own against yours before saying “We’ll play by your rules but for tonight I won’t let you sleep here. If you’re uncomfortable sleeping with me in one bed I’ll sleep here but I don’t want you to get sick or freeze to death”. I smiled softly. She would always make sure I would be fine before caring about herself even before you came together. “You’re not staying here tonight either Nat. You’ll get sick with pneumonia. I think we’re on the same page and we have shared beds before everything too”, you said and gently caressed her cheek.

The smile spreading across her face was soft and warm. She stood up and held her hands out to you before pulling you up and gently guiding you to the small bedroom. You both freshened up before going to bed but you could feel the exhaustion deep in your bones as you made your way to bed. Nat was already laying under the covers as you laid down next to her. You know you said you would take things slow but right now you just needed the comfort she could provide. Seeing the look in your face she just opened her arms and you smiled before cuddling deep into her, laying your head on her chest. Her strong arms holding you close while wrapping you both in the blanket. Your eyes closed and you almost fell asleep immediately. The last thing you felt were her soft lips on your forehead.

Maybe a second chance was all the both of you needed.

[helahades]

By the Water Fountain

(Natasha Romanova x Black!Fem!Reader)

A/N: This is my entry into @fanfictionaries trope challenge! I sort of completely twisted the prompt up. Mine was Best Friend’s Brother.

This fic doubles as a songfic for Water Fountain by Alec Benjamin.

I recommend listening to that song before reading. ( on youtube // on spotify )

Warnings: Red Room like abuse. Codependency. Trauma. Angst. Rejection. Seriously, abuse. Everyone is abused. Injury. Dissociation. Trauma.

Word Count: 3.4k

—

Under a blended peach sky, and during the in between that hangs both the sun and moon, a pretty girl is thinking about her soft and unshakable love for you.

Practice is over, and you’re smiling, looking out across the courtyard from where you sit with Natasha on the fountain’s edge.

“Do’ya ever want to get married, Natalia?”

When you say her name, it’s tangy and sharp, the Russian way, with a hint of Spanish, but gentle all the same. A drip of nectarine streams over your lip and down your chin, and you don’t even catch and cover it like you might if you weren’t high on dreams.

This dance academy seems like forever sometimes—its been years of your life since they demanded your recruitment—but you always take time to dream. If you don’t, Nat won’t, and her unspoken appreciation of your hope keeps the both of you warm.

At first, because she can’t help it, she thinks about marrying you, as if that’s what you meant.

“Maybe someday, I guess,” comes a thoughtful monotone that only Nat can conjure, “Why—you thinking about marrying Alec?”

“God no,” you huff, cuddling into her shoulder as the fruit goes bitter. She opens up to you physically in a minute way, receiving your warmth and closeness despite the neutrality of the coming breeze.

“Well...I just don’t know actually,” you continue, “The two of us fell in love way too young, you know… And I needed him then, so maybe it was more like dependence.”

Shifting on the cool stone of the fountain's edge, you are suddenly aware of the way the tights sit on the skin of your thighs, stretching with each movement.

It becomes hard not to think about the love shell you’re trapped in. Everyone at the academy has found a different way to cope, and for some, including the you of the past, that meant lying with someone just to remember intimacy.

That was before. Before you knew the meaning of the word, and before after dance practice naps in your little haven turned into kissing and heat and softness.

Some days, swaddled up and tangled with the other, you would press kisses under Nat’s jaw, where she smelled like cinnamon and flowers and fabric softener, and she would giggle like the world never gave any weight to feeling. She would dance her fingers along your spine when the peach stretched into moonlight, and the darkness would stun her into remembering you’re promised to another. Her brother.

“Sometimes, Nat…I think I love you instead, and that kinda scares me.”

You look at her, you squeeze the sour fruit.

She says nothing.

Her rejection is acid to your soul.

—

Shadows and blown glass and dried petals and the wood of your apartment at sunset.

It all runs through Natasha’s mind in a haze when she begins to think about the energy here and why she loves it, and why it feels so secret. She doesn’t go this far, but it all feels like sapphic poetry that a man might try to capture, but would never understand if he barged in here. It’s a secret world made for fond hearts.

When the both of you are here, you can pretend that your instructor doesn’t make you repeat across the floor routines til you bleed, or that you haven’t been criticized to the point of tears and vice. You shed the day together, so that when the masks go on in the morning, they aren’t shoved away by the bends of emotion. You touch and whisper and still yourselves passionately, being at one with dancing dust and ticking clocks.

Some days, you can’t explain, but she always understands, it’s easier to lie still and it feels like autonomy after a day of being forced to move. You can’t stop stretching your ankles and marking routines, and some nights you wake sobbing when the transition of a routine leaves you. But she’s here, like she always is, as you are for her.

You remind her to eat, when to stop, and when to put on clothes when the AC chill rattles too bitingly. You dream for her, until she can do it alone, and her soft grins grow into beaming cheesy smiles.

When you kiss her, she’s sweet. Her lips are plump and hydrated (because you can only stop dancing to drink water) and she makes soft sweet sounds against you that run down your throat and into your heart.

When she kisses you, she’s breathless, and she remembers all the ways you taught her to dream. She likes to hold your hand and kiss you languidly or sharply, like you have all the time, or none of it. Hands pushing up tank tops, thighs between each other, collarbone kisses, then Alec. He comes to take Nat home, to tell her it’s time to go, and he kisses you hard and scratchy before slamming the door, stealing your peace, and shattering your haven.

—

It’s not that you don’t like Alec. You did at one point, even feel in love with him. His energy is as strong as his body, and he seems to comically be everything Natasha isn’t. He fills rooms with overwhelming charm, his dancing is sharp, agile, cutting through the air like licks of flame.

You prefer to see Natasha dance in her tortured grace, she can be quick, but when allowed, her grace is slow like a bloom and moves outward from her form.

Natasha and Alec both have learned how to play this system. They’re both clever and witty, but Natasha is the best because of natural skill, while Alec is exceptional because he still runs the sibling rival race that Natasha dropped from years ago.

Alec plays everything to win, he is outwardly passionate, and to be the focus of his attentions is a life secured in… something. You love him in the way that you must love someone that is good enough, that can get you out of here.

If Natasha would say the word, you would leave him. She doesn’t hesitate because of some familial loyalty. Her brother isn’t a jerk, necessarily, just oblivious to the finer things. Nothing about the unique circumstances they’ve survived together brought them closer together as siblings. Natasha didn’t know that hurt people could heal from two into one. She didn’t know people should have someone to confide in, and you don’t really either.

Alec is just… a pleaser. A source of abject power in social circles. He rides the line of knowing how to deliver performance, but knowing which one will get the right results. He controls. And he is incredibly hedonistic. It’s hard not to compare this with how you and your best friend only try to pleasure the other. She lives for your smiles, even if they’re just chemical, and even if she has to squint for them in the moonlight.

There’s just something about having someone who knows hurt in the same way as you without explanation. You scratch a line in the baseboard by your door when one of you sprains or breaks an ankle again from the incessant repetitions forced upon you at the academy. You’re both fucked up enough to laugh about it.

You roll frozen water bottles over knots and stretch through the resistance of scar tissue. When the sky falls into the time of buttery peach, she falls into you, warm like sunset and lovers’ candles. You like to kiss between her thighs, where she smells sweet like sugar cane, even like bubbly hand soap, and you kiss the moons where her nails dug into her thighs too hard when she tried not to let the instructor make her cry. In the soft tissue of your underarms, when you fold over her, sometimes you feel the gentle drag of her body’s scattered hairs. And it’s intimate in ways unspeakable.

She’s pink everywhere. In her cheeks, in the reflection of her hair on the walls, between her thighs, and her lips. She feels vulnerable with you. It’s enjoyable in a way she resists some days. Reminds her of getting tickled. She hates it just like she hates not being able to pull the thread back that unwinds from her heart, and the way she opens when you smile at her.

It’s intimate and innocent the way you learn how another woman’s body can be different. The rounds of your nipples are wider, darker, softer in their edges. The curls of the hair on your mound roll into you, framing you, while Natasha’s aim down, straight, the way rain points down windows. Your eyes are honeyed caramel, Natasha’s are the splashes from the water fountain. You could look at each other forever. But you don't. You have class in the morning.

A frigid and grating rap of knuckles lets you know Alec is here. Shooting up, it’s a flurry of sweatpants and tossed scrunchies, a routine you and your best friend know too well. When you come to the door, he pushes in like he does, kisses you with the sharp grating of his newly shaved face. He groans into it, pulling you in with a scoop of a muscled arm. When he pulls away, your head drops. You can’t see her cat eyes, her firey hair, her composed face wearing its mask before she really should.

“Nat. Walk yourself alone, tonight,” Alec commands into the night, eyeing you with the calm and cool intent of predation, freezing the wax of your candles. The crickets seem too hush outside.

Nat makes for the door, with a face that reads as stoic to anyone who can’t read the slight upward curl of her lips. She pulls the ends up like strings, lest they melt into a grimace in front of this man made of fire.

“Are you sure”—

You knew it was futile before you began. He raises an eyebrow like you’re crazy, and she’s looking back, just for a second, eyes like oceans, before she picks up her bag and is out the door, walking brusquely across the quad.

You wish the chill had swallowed you instead. That you had slammed the door.

Motions happen.

You pull off your shirt, because he never knows how, he carries you to your little bed. His belt buckle hits the floor like a gunshot, and when he crawls over you, you stare at the ceiling.

—

“Baby,” he nudges.

When he touches you, you leap out of the fog, sleep leaving in a gasp.

He knows.

When he passed out without learning to perfectly spot during fouettés, they dumped buckets of ice water on his bare back. Poked him in the ribs for not improving his cambré. Made him balance relevé in the snow, naked, for falling out of it on an off day. You know why he’s the best. And it’s not because he wants to be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, accent tumbling. He rolls closer to where you sit, hands pulling your waist til you’re close enough to gather in his arms. He tugs you to lie with him. It’s comfortable enough.

“Baby,” he starts again, massaging a welt on your shoulder, “we need to get out of here.”

You want to scream at how obvious it is. You think about how you’ve cried it on your bathroom floor. How Natasha would say “One day.”

“And baby,” he whispers again, soft like he can’t stop, always, every night, “we’re doing it together.”

He presses a ring into your hand. It might not fit, it’s most likely stolen. But that’s not the point.

“I love you.”

The innocence has left.

—

The sun has risen, the sky is white like it’s running off a dandelion, and you’re in class.

Rose. Roza. You’re the rose, the pretty flower, paired with fire for a man.

You’re in the middle of a showcase—new dancers, new victims watching your display, sitting in a line against the mirrors, watching your demonstration with Alec before they themselves will go on and show their best.

It’s controlled—always. Each turnout and disengagement from the floor matches a single piano note. You face away from each other, the idea being that you can only trust yourself to be on time, and that your partner must know you won’t fail. There is a lift at the end, that depends on this synchronization, and if you fall before Alec comes ready from his pirouette, you’ll surely be injured. He’s always ready, it’s hardly a worry.

Launching out of your plié, you spin like leaves in the wind, like the flower they named you. Catching his eye as he plants after the pirouette, he catches you by the hips, raising you with a press of his shoulders. A gentle wrist, pointed toes, arched back, and the silence of your peers. Nobody claps. Claps are for the surprised.

When Alec lets you down, slowly and controlled, at least fifteen seconds after the final note, you catch a red bun when your vision levels. Mask sealed.

—

“Did you get home safe?”

“We don’t have homes.”

“Clearly not,” you spit, burning with her rejection.

Her face says nothing. You can only hear the spouting, rushing water.

“Does it not matter to you, Natalia,” you question, voice breaking slowly.

Her voice never comes.

“We’re getting married—Alec and I…”

You say it carefully. Like a threat. Hoping she’ll care.

“I remember the you that couldn’t imagine that.”

“I remember the you that didn’t make me want to.”

She looks bored. Like she’s waiting through the tantrum of a child. Your heart swells. Irritated with anger. Mask cracking.

You turn the ring in your pocket, upset with letting her win. Upset with knowing this is how it ends, and that your one day isn’t together. Upset with spending endless nights growing into her, just for her to watch you leave with indifference.

Pulling out a coin, the one that matches hers, the ones that you found before the fountain, you watch where she sits. You watch until she looks at you, and slide it closer to the water. You don’t push it in.

“He says he loves me. Who knows if he means it. But he said it...and you didn’t. I can’t be here forever, Nat.”

She blinks, willing words to come, and as you walk away, they still haven’t.

The sky turns sour.

—

Porcelain. Smooth, painted baby angel porcelain. You twirl like you’re in a music box, like a spring propels you. You dance until the days blend together, and you perform for Americans. You dance until they want to take you.

The rose and the flame.

—

Your American pointes are stiff. They expect you to break in new ones. When the sky turns peach, you’re under fluorescents, twirling like the wind. Twirling for hours.

“I heard Americans smell like wet dogs.”

He doesn’t bother to be quiet, and he’s smiling with the promise of intertwined futures. It also helps that no one practices as late as you, lovers more in love with a journey to come.

“I heard they have a lot of money.”

“That, they do, Roza,” his tongue rolls Russian, and he crosses to kiss the tips of your fingers. He’s so sweet in the nights.

His hands are unwrapped, his regular shoes are on the floor. Your eyes flicker to them, disapproving, before looking at him. Regular shoes scuff the dance floor.

“What will they do?”

He pulls your arms out of third, pulls your hands into his, stroking your locked up knuckles, undoing the forced curves of your hands. He’s telling you to come with him. To rest your overworked body. There will be plenty of time to practice in America.

It’s a sweet moment, soured only by being the wrong ending, and your unfinished business.

“Come with me. It’s our last night in this stupid place. Let’s celebrate.”

You let him pull you close. You kiss him and you mean it.

“I just have one thing to do.”

—

Knocking on Nat’s door, you realize it’s the first time you’ve done so and been unsure if she would answer. It’s 2am, after all, and the words you spoke before were very final.

When the door swings open, not enough time passes for a wait. She hadn’t been sleeping. There aren’t many words. There doesn’t have to be. What would you even say, really?

You go for a hug, but closing the distance, it morphs into a kiss. A gentle one. A sweet meet of the lips. A goodbye. Then, both of you are crying. Neither of you knows enough about America, enough about life without the other...but too much about saying goodbye.

There aren’t any words because they’re the kind of words you’ve already said to other people. The words that you hate to hear, that have been wrung too many times from the back of your throat to cover the spaces between that no language can. There aren’t words to say how this sucks.

Your lover, your confidante, your supporter. You try not to think about that strange fight. You try not to think about how she couldn’t say she loves you. You both know she does. Only she knows that her love won’t save you from this place. If you leave and have a boring life with Alec in some city or countryside, at least no one will beat you again. No more broken ankles, and no more bad jokes about them.

Some place squeezes in the back of your throat, pulling at the wells of your eyelids. When she pulls out your coin, the one you left behind, she presses it into your hand, watery tears on her pink cheeks, and she looks like a peach sky. Standing together with silent tears, it’s a moment before you calm them, breathing together like you would when tears meant harder hits.

You put the coin in your bra, giggling, because there’s nowhere else for it to go. She giggles too, and it’s a stupid thing, but the thing you find, because something needs to do. Something needs to be tallied in the baseboards.

“He’s waiting for me,” you whisper in your watery voice.

It’s always like this. Someone always has to start it with a timer.

You come closer because she’s so warm.

She strokes your face, pushing back some fly away hairs.

“You’ll do amazing. Don’t mess it up there. Don’t doubt yourself. Don’t be afraid of them…”

She pauses, conducting the waves that threaten her composure.

“Don’t forget me...I won’t forget you.”

And that is the most she can give. That is her love, in different words, and that is the most she can say without you deciding to stay. You’d tough it all out with her, but it wouldn’t be right. She will make it out. You need to believe it.

You kiss her again. You hold her hands, and you walk away before more tears fall.

—

When you wake up, your back and legs ache, but the sunlight is in your bones, and your soul is light with new beginnings, and mourning like you’re already gone.

Alec made love to you last night, and you enjoyed it. Maybe… maybe there’s some understanding. Maybe life won’t be bad.

When you’re walked to the car that will take you to the plane, you pass the water fountain. The sky is blinding and empty. So is the seat that Nat usually takes. You taste nectarines.

Alec squeezes your shoulder, and you’re back in the moment. He tells you he loves you, the wind twirling around like a blessing. It feels unearned.

It’s an easy car ride, and as time clicks by on the digital clock, you recoil at the car freshener blowing into your nose with the biting freeze of the air conditioner. You can’t stop watching that clock. You take moments when you know Natasha’s alarm is ringing on her floor, when class starts, when lunch begins.

You think about what the American schedule will be like all the way to the plane. You wonder where you’ll go when the sky turns peach.

Soaring over cities, you see water. You see the glimmer of Nat’s tears, and you wonder if she’ll see the same sea when she makes it out.

You wonder if she’ll think of you too.

—

(reblogs appreciated!)

tags: @xbuchananbarnes (ty honey) @invisibleanonymousmonsters (ily) @threeminutesoflife @honeychicanawrites @sapphirescrolls @tropicalcap @mariahthelioness29 @avintagekiss24 @allaboardthereadingrailroad @venusbarnes @hurricanerin

[cigurette]

It Was Nice Knowing You || Natasha Romanoff x Reader

A/N- Here is some angsty shit for you,,,,,,also, I had to re-upload this one cuz there was some problem earlier,,,,,I hope y’all enjoy it!!! 

Word count- 686 (so close)

Warnings- some cussing, and a LOT of angst.....

Summary-  You and Natasha have been together for two years. Two years of being together, and you break her heart in the worst way possible.

“The truth is, this never meant anything to me. You don’t mean anything to me, I don’t…” “You don’t WHAT?!” “I don’t need you anymore, I’m done with you. Now, either get out of the way or just pass me that bag.”

Natasha felt like someone ripped open her rib cage, grabbed her heart, pulled it out, and tore it down into a million little pieces. That someone being the love of her life, or at least she thought so.

------30 minutes ago------

She came back to her shared apartment being in a frenzied state. She immediately went towards the kitchen table to grab the hidden gun, only to not find it there. So she pulled her knife, slyly hidden on her boots, and proceeded to look for any possible intruders. When reaching the bedroom, she found y/n frantically packing their clothes, weapons, some documents, into a suitcase, a duffle bag, and a back pack.

“Y/n, what’s going on?”, she seemed as confused as she’s ever been. “Oh, you’re back.” “What?” “Umm, nothing, I’m, can you pass me that? No? Okay, no problem-“ Natasha held y/n by her shoulders in an effort to stop her and get an explanation as to what the fuck was happening. “Y/n, what the fuck is going on here, can you just fucking tell me?” “Listen, I gotta leave”, y/n said with a sigh, “just, I don’t have time to explain, not that I want to anyway.” What was happening? Why was y/n acting like that? And why was she leaving? Where is she leaving for? Too many questions. This weird feeling was starting to build up in the pit of Natasha’s stomach. Anxiety. She was going to have an anxiety attack. But she needed to know.

“I’m not going to repeat myself one more time, tell me what the fuck is happening?!” Y/n turned around with sigh of annoyance, now facing Natasha, who was standing across the room. “Remember how you think that I USED to work with HYDRA, well, I’m still with them. Guess Nick Fury doesn’t know everything about everyone. Also, you’re not that good of a spy after all.” “What are you talking about y/n?” “Are you shitting me?? I JUST told you”, and with that, y/n went back to the hurried packing of all of their stuff, while Natasha was just standing there trying to make sense of everything. You know how sometimes you hear something so shocking that for a while your brain can’t even put the words together to make some sense out of them? Yeah.

“But we’ve been together for 2 years now.” “Yeah, so? I thought you were a heartless spy, better at keeping your emotions in check. I mean, The Red Room is kinda famous for that shit you know, not, love. Also, I never thought it was THAT serious.” “I fucking told you I love you, you freak!! And YOU told me you love me!!” “Yeah, but no one ever means it though.” “You can’t be serious right now.” “The truth is, this never meant anything to me. You don’t mean anything to me, I don’t…” “You don’t WHAT?!” “I don’t need you anymore, I’m done with you. Now, either get out of the way or just pass me that bag…..or I’ll just take it myself.”

Natasha just stood there with tears now escaping her eyes. She just stood there, watching y/n get the last of their stuff. She just stood there feeling the most vulnerable she ever had. She had finally let her walls down for someone, the walls that she had been building all her life. Now she just feels-, she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling.

“Hey! Listen I gotta go catch this flight now, so, yeah”, that said, y/n approaches the apartment door with all their bags. “You better not fucking leave me”, Natasha says, her voice small and heartbreaking. She let herself be vulnerable one more time, probably for the last time ever. Y/n turns around and huffs out a laugh, “It was nice knowing you, Nat.” And with that, they left. They just left.

[wehaveabucky-archive]

Súton

pairing: natasha x reader

word count: around 1k

summary: súton (n.): twilight, the approach of death or the end of something

warnings: angst

masterlist

There had been a warning on the news about the storm. The weatherman, cheerful as ever, told people to prepare for a night indoors. The news anchors had laughed, their pearly white teeth on full display, and said

“Perfect weather for ducks.”

The wind whipped the rain against the glass of your window. It was a loud clattering noise that sounded exactly like those rice shakers you made as a kid in kindergarten. Except someone wasn’t gently tipping it from one side to the other – they were flailing it wildly, the rice inside rattling noisily against the carboard tube it was contained in.

You were curled up on your couch, back against the arm rest so you could look out the window. Despite it being almost midnight, your curtains were still drawn, giving you a perfect view outside. The street was practically flooded, the dark concrete pavements black with water. The tree outside your house looked sure to come crashing down, it’s limbs bending and stretching with each gust of wind. Leaves and twigs occasionally broke free, crashing against your window with the rain.

You should probably go upstairs to bed. You were tired from work – having been up early for your usual shift. But you’d sat here since you’d finished dinner. You’d tried to watch a movie but you never looked at the TV, always turned to the window, waiting for the car to come down the hill. The movie had actually finished an hour ago but you never made an effort to turn off the TV. You’d sat with the DVD menu illuminating your face for a while before it went to sleep and plunged you into darkness, the only light being that of the streetlights watery orange glow.

You heard a thud upstairs. Had it not been for the fact you were waiting for her, you would have thought it was a branch falling on the roof or a bird nesting in the roof. But because you were waiting for her, you immediately swung your legs from the couch and stood. You climbed the stairs on your tiptoes, trying to be quiet yet fast. It would never matter anyway, she could probably hear you coming.

You stepped over the creaky floorboard outside your bedroom, hesitating with your hand on the door handle. You could hear someone inside, shuffling around. There was a jostling of drawers and the light padding of footsteps on carpet. You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut as you pushed open the door.

Part of you hoped it wasn’t her. If it wasn’t her it was a robber and at least that way they had an explanation for sneaking into your bedroom. But no, she was stood there – red hair hung over her face as she rummaged through the top drawer of your nightstand.

“Natasha,” your voice was soft and Nat froze, not turning to look at you. You gulped, stepping into the room and curling your toes into the carpet. “How did you get in?”

She didn’t respond initially, the sound of rain and wind the only thing you could hear. You realised it was louder in here and much colder. You tugged your cardigan tighter around your body, shivering instinctively. When you looked to the window, it was wide open, a pool of water soaking through the carpet and trailing to where Nat stood.

Her hair was wet, sticking to her back and leather jacket. When she turned to look at you, it was clinging to her cheeks, mascara slightly smudged under her eyes. You stepped forward.

“It was an accident,” you whispered, knowing in your heart what was happening right now. She met your eyes for a second, her stern expression softening for a moment only to harden again with determination. She turned to the bed, placing a frame and some other items in the duffle sat on the comforter.

“Maybe so,” her voice was hard as steel and if she was feeling any emotion at all, you couldn’t tell from her tone. “But I have to go.”

“The news said-“

“The news doesn’t know shit.” Natasha snapped, pulling the zipper shut loudly. “I have to go.”

“Take me with you,” you moved to stand right in front of her, hands reaching out to hold her arms. She was cold and wet, and she almost leant into the feeling of your warm touch. But she was stronger than that. She tensed her muscles and acted unaffected by your presence.

“You know I can’t.”

“I love you,” you felt tears brewing in your eyes and you bit your lip to keep some semblance of composure. “You love me. We love each other, Nat. You can’t just run away from everything you love.”

“I’m not running away,” she insisted, shrugging out of your grip. The sadness merged with anger now and you scoffed out loud, shaking your head. The tears fell freely from your eyes, warming your chilling cheeks.

“Bullshit Nat,” you raised your voice and Nat turned away from you, squeezing her eyes shut. “Those people. That wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to run away from it. You don’t need to run away from me. I love you.”

Your words became even more pleading as Nat went back over to the window. You were one step behind her every way until you were looking down at her sat on your window pane. Your hands gripped the window frame, rain hitting your face and stinging your skin like a million tiny needles, you blinked the rain and tears away, unsure which was which anymore.

Nat saw the pain in your eyes, the disappointment and hurt, and did the only thing she knew would protect you. From her. From her life. From the world.

She lied.

“I don’t love you like that anymore.” And with that she disappeared out of the window and into the dark streets