* . °•★|•°∵ Stop | G!p Natasha romanoff x fem!reader
masterlist
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT - natasha has a dick
A/n: I don’t remember seeing this anywhere else, so I really hope my subconscious didn’t steal it from somewhere else. I LOVE THIS
Written: June 20, 2026
* . °•★|•°∵ STOP ∵°•|☆•° . *
I stretched out on the massive bed in my room at the tower, the city lights of New York twinkling far below the floor to ceiling windows. Natasha laid beside me, her red hair spilling across the pillow. We'd been together for almost a year now. Our sex life? Insanely good and frequent, that good that it left us both grinning like idiots the next morning during briefings. Trust was never an issue, she always stopped the second I said stop, always without any exception.
And everything was amazing until last month, when Clint opened his big mouth with that stupid No-Nut-November bet. Natasha, with her ridiculous pride, took it. One month where both of us had to suffer because she couldn’t cum and seeing me feel good apparently was also too much for her. I hated it , watching her clench her jaw during training, hated the way her eyes lingered on me a little too long, hated knowing I couldn't push her over that edge like I usually did. So I waited out the month like a saint, and the second it was over, I decided it was time for a little payback.
-=- First time
It started innocently enough. We'd just come back from a short mission, adrenaline still buzzing. I pulled her into our room, hands already sliding under her shirt, fingers tracing the toned lines of her abs. "Missed you out there, Romanoff," I murmured, voice low and teasing, pressing her back against the wall. She growled softly, that sound that always went straight between my legs, and flipped us so I was the one pinned. Her mouth crashed into mine, hungry, demanding. We shed clothes fast, my tank top hitting the floor, her sports bra following. I wrapped my legs around her waist as she carried me to the bed, her cock already hard and pressing against me through her pants.
She freed herself, thick and throbbing, and pushed into me in one smooth thrust. I gasped, nails digging into her shoulders. God, she felt perfect, stretching me just right, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. We moved together, her hips snapping forward, my body arching to meet every thrust, sweat slicked our skin. Her breath came in hot pants against my neck as she murmured praises in Russian. I was close already, but I wanted her closer.
Right as she started to lose rhythm, her cock swelling inside me, I gripped her arms "Stop."
She froze instantly, buried deep, muscles trembling with the effort. Those green eyes snapped to mine, confused but instantly concerned "YN? What’s wrong, detka?" Her voice was rough, strained, but she pulled out carefully, rolling off me even though I could see the frustration flickering across her face. She checked me over, hands gentle on my cheeks. "Talk to me. Did I hurt you?"
I faked a yawn, "Just... tired. Long day. Sorry, Nat." The lie tasted sweet. She nodded, kissing my forehead softly, even though her cock was still rock-hard and leaking against her thigh. She pulled me into her arms instead, holding me close. "It's okay. Get some rest." I snuggled against her chest, hiding my smirk.
-=- Second time
The next day I teased her on purpose. During training, I "accidentally" brushed against her while sparring, whispering how much I wanted her inside me later. In the common area, I sat on her lap during a team meeting, shifting just enough to feel her harden beneath me. By evening, she was pent up, eyes dark with need every time she looked at me.
Perfect.
We barely made it to the bedroom. I dropped to my knees the second the door closed, yanking her pants down. Her cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, veins standing out. "Fuck, Yn," she groaned as I took her into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head, sucking hard. I worked her with my hand and lips, hollowing my cheeks, taking her deeper until she hit the back of my throat. Her fingers tangled in my hair. Her hips bucked, breath ragged. She was close, so close, thighs tensing.
I pulled off with a wet pop, wiping my mouth. "Actually... I don't feel like it anymore." I stood up, shrugging casually, even as my own arousal throbbed.
Natasha stared at me, chest heaving, cock twitching in the air, denied right at the edge. Frustration burned in her eyes, jaw tight. "Yn. What the hell?" But she didn't push, she never did, she respected me too much. She just exhaled sharply, ran a hand through her hair, and muttered something about a cold shower. I felt a twinge of guilt, but the power rush was addictive.
-=- Third time
She tried again two nights later, thinking maybe I'd gotten over whatever mood I was in. We were in the shower, water cascading over us. Her hands roamed my body, soapy and insistent. She lifted me against the tiles, strong arms holding me up as she slid into me again, deep and relentless. The angle was insane, every thrust ground against my clit, her cock filling me completely. I moaned loudly, biting her shoulder. She was pounding into me, grunting with effort, so close to losing it.
Halfway through I gasped, realising I nearly forgot; Right as her pace turned desperate "Stop, Nat."
She slammed her hand against the tile beside my head, breathing hard, but she stopped, pulled out, set me down gently even though her whole body shook with restrained need. Anger flashed in her eyes now,real anger. "This again? Yn, what game are you playing?" Her voice was low, dangerous. But she still wrapped a towel around me first, then herself, before storming out to the bathroom.
-=- Fourth time
By now she knew. She watched me warily the next evening when I initiated, but desire won out. We didn't even make it past foreplay properly before I had her on her back, stroking her cock slowly, teasing the head with my thumb while kissing her neck. She was leaking, hips jerking up into my hand. When I straddled her and sank down, taking every inch, she groaned my name like a prayer.
I did it again. "Stop."
This time she was properly pissed. She pulled out immediately, sitting up and glaring. "Damn it, Stark. If you don't want this, stop starting it." She got up, pacing the room naked, tension radiating off her. But she respected the word, I almost felt bad, almost.
-=- The fifth time
A few nights after that, I could tell she was done with my shit. I tried to make up for it, crawling into bed in nothing but one of her old shirts, pressing against her back, hand sliding down her stomach towards her cock. "C'mon, Nat. I've been an ass. Let me fix it."
She caught my wrist, firm but not painful. "No. I'm sick of your jokes, Yn. Not tonight." Her voice was flat. She turned away, facing the wall. I felt a pang of real regret then. My own damn fault. I curled up on my side, back facing her, pretending to fall asleep even though my mind raced. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside.
Hours passed. The clock on the nightstand glowed 3:17 AM when I felt the bed shift. Warm breath brushed my neck.
Natasha pressed in close behind me, her body radiating heat. She stayed there for a long moment, breathing ragged, her thick cock hard and throbbing insistently against my ass. Her hand rested on my hip, fingers flexing with clear frustration, but she held back.
“Yn…” Her voice was low and strained. “You awake?” I hummed, looking at her and smiled at her state. “If you’re going to say stop again, tell me now. Please.” She said desperate.
I reached back, guiding her hand between my thighs so she could feel how soaked I was. “Don’t stop tonight,”
The second the words left my mouth, Natasha flipped me onto my back with a growl. She shoved the shirt up roughly, spread my legs wide, and thrust into me in one hard stroke, burying herself deep. I gasped at the sudden stretch as she started fucking me immediately, fast and relentless and going all the way in.
“Fuck… finally,” she panted against my neck, hips snapping “Let me finish inside you.”
She drove into me harder, desperate and messy, days of holding back, her cock throbbing with every thrust. Broken “please”’s spilled from her lips between moans as she chased her release, trembling with need. It didn’t take long before her rhythm faltered. She slammed in deep one last time and came hard, pulsing hot inside me with a wrecked groan, her whole body shaking.
When she finally collapsed on top of me, sweaty and tired, she pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.
“Never again,” she murmured, voice hoarse. “Or I won’t be this nice next time.”
Smut: Non-Con, R is a virgin, Mommy (N), Detka/Kotenok (R), Knife Play, Oral/Fingering (R), Strap—Cock warming, Degradation.
18+ | Minors DNI !!
Natasha's been watching you for awhile now. Prettiest little thing she'd ever seen really, the innocence you radiated was such a draw in. Every time she heard you giggling she just knew you'd be her perfect little baby, you were naturally sweet, and in turn easily corruptible.
Which is why she was irate whenever she saw you enter the bar she owned in your skimpy little outfits. Trading in your long, floral dresses for these overtly revealing outfits. That crowd you found yourself with was a group of rotten apples. Ruining you before she ever had her chance to, and she wasn't having it; nope.
You didn't know it yet, but you needed her.
——
The moment Natasha watched you collecting your belongings she knew it was time to set her plan in motion. You'd been sipping on the long island iced tea that she mixed especially for you for an hour now, and it was infuriating how slow you were at polishing off the drink.
Natasha thanked the heavens that you were still her good girl deep down, because while your friends selfishly stuck around you took off so you could sleep properly for your classes.
"I'm heading out Bucky, close up the bar for me tonight," she tossed the burly man the keys, never once sparing the man a glance as she was too focused on following you out the doors.
The bar wasn't more than a block away from your dormitory, so just like always you began to make the trek home with your keys between your fingers, with pepper spray on the chain. That didn't matter much though when you began to stagger so much to the right you were practically walking towards potential traffic.
"Woah there honey, are you okay?" A familiar looking redhead caught you just as you were about to fall into the street, "'m okay," you did your best to smile at her, but in your state you couldn't tell that only half of your face moved, it'd honestly looked like you were having a stroke, but to placate you—her clueless, and far too trusting sweet girl, she softly smiled back.
"It looks like you had too much to drink kotenok," she gently swept the mess of hair from your face, then gently guided your head into her chest while her other arm slid under your legs so she could hold you bridal style.
Natasha's heart beat wildly at the thought of one day marrying you, it was a reality she was only moments away from reaching now that she finally broke you away from your miserable life so she could offer you the whole world.
—
The following morning came with eery silence, but it was soon filled by the clanging of metal as you pointlessly pulled on your restraints, your muscles aching caused you to cry out. You're unsure how long you'd been made to stand here in you unconscious state, but it was likely long with how easily the pain brought you to tears. Light sobs left you, pulling the pleased attention of your kidnapper to you.
"Now, now darling—don't hurt my feelings," Natasha called out from the shadowed corner she'd been patiently sat in. It'd taken you an entire eight hours to find your way out of the drug induced darkness you were plunged into.
"W-who are you?"
"Natasha," she answered sparingly, it wasn't much, but it was all she was willing to offer.
"W-why did you lock me up?" you sounded so small, entirely helpless, and that filled Natasha with an almost carnal need to brutally destroy you, "I thought you were there to save me..."
Natasha was honestly impressed, you were the only one of her captives to ever remember the twisted moment of fate. Where she ensnared you into her intricate web of diluted dreams, and brought you to her soundproof basement.
"Please, I—," you nervously went to ask more in wake of her silence, but she was now stood before you with her slender finger pressed to your trembling lips, "No more questions."
Once she could see the fight simmering in your eyes she lowered her finger, then much to your further discomfort she nuzzled her nose into yours, "I did save you baby, the world is a scary place, you're just too precious to be made to face it alone," she sloppily pushed her lips into yours for a kiss you didn't want to reciprocate.
It was only when she ran the tip of her blade down your body that she was able to control the moment, digging into the material of your top until you felt it digging into your skin. Natasha took advantage of your gasping, her tongue slid over yours with an eagerness to rival that of a toddler set free in a candy store.
Unfortunately for you, it seemed that the way that her blade continued to tear your clothing apart, while her tongue unashamedly explored your mouth turned you on in a desperate way. Never in your life had you been touched by another, you'd been saving yourself for that special someone, but it seems out of reach now.
And oddly enough, you were fine with that.
Not only did some minuet part of you being driven by intense bouts of lust want her to continue marking and harshly groping you the way she was, but your body actually needed it. Natasha smirked against your cheek, you were panting affectedly, and your hips were moving in the same manner as they bucked into hers.
"Oh my, see what I mean baby?" she stared at you in awe, pupils blown wide and wearing a smirk that could only translate into trouble, "I've just taken you hostage, and look, your slutty pussy is begging for me to fill it up."
To emphasize her words she lifted your skirt, and used her knife to haphazardly cut the thin material from your body. A pang of arousal shot straight through your body when you watched as the woman held your panties up to her face, the sparse light in the room proving just how wet you'd become in only seconds, and you felt yourself dripping freely as you watched Natasha lick your essence off them.
"Fuck kotenok, you're too delicious for your own good, I'm going to devour you whole."
Seeing the way she looked at you, as if you were her defenseless prey—you believed her wholly, because the truth was clear as day, you were defenseless against her in every possible sense.
"Tell me kotenok," she whispered hotly against your tense jaw as she deposited teasing nibbles to the skin, her hand also teased your folds, and "What do you want?"
"I-I," you looked down in clear shame, your hands balled up into tight fists, the skin now taut around your knuckles, and you squeezed so tightly that your joints popped, and at the sight of you doing so it filled the redhead with uncontainable glee. She'd always suspected, but more so hoped, that you'd be pure, and with how desperately your clit twitched at the simplest stroke she knew you were a virgin.
"Shh, it's okay detka," her lips lightly suctioned over your pulse point, causing you to moan in a mix of shock and pleasure, your hips wildly bucked into her hand, and she smirked against your skin, "Mommy will take good care of you."
Natasha dropped to her knees, "Oh fuck, you smell divine baby, can't wait to drink your sweet nectar straight from the source," she teasingly licked a strip up your slit, groaning in sync with you as pleasure overran you, and your taste temporarily melted her cognition.
A whimper left your lips a second later as your knees buckled at the sensation of the redhead between your thighs, and in a show of mercy she lifted your leg over her, opening you up even more for her enjoyment, and saving you from permanent damage to your shoulders.
Natasha was relentless with her ministrations, this wasn't a tender first time, but instead a mission for her to bring you to ecstasy for the first time in your life, to show you that you'll never need anyone besides her to get you here. Her expert tongue swirled around your entrance a few times before it dove into you.
"Fuck, oh my gosh, wh-what...," your hazy mind tried to make sense of just how good you were feeling, but as she harshly sucked your clit between her lips while entering you with one finger there was nothing more to understand.
Inexperienced as you were, you could tell that your pussy gripping onto her finger was a sign that she nearly had you tipping over the edge of a bliss you were desperate to reach. Sloppily as ever your hips flailed as she now thrusted three fingers into your greedy cunt, "You're such a slut Y/N, this pussy has yet to be touched but still, look at the way you're moving with me."
"Mommy, it feels so good," you practically shouted, causing her to chuckle against you, which only added to your pleasure, making you even more desperate as you bucked down.
"You were born to wrap around my fingers," she groans against your clit as your walls all of a suddenly clung to her, in a matter of mere seconds your orgasm overtook your body, and you screamed out a slurry of profanities as your back arched off the wall and your body shook.
Natasha slowly stood up, her fingers still deep inside of you as her other hand sought to free you as her lips softly pressed over the entirety of your glistening face as you came down.
With a gentle care she removed herself from within you, carrying you over to the bed she settled you down, then she finally stripped herself of her clothing. Eyes of a green flashed with a devious glint when the strap fell loose, she stroked it as if it were real as her eyes took in your slightly snoring form. With expected ease she slipped right on into you, your slick now coating her thighs as she bottomed out.
Natasha wanted nothing more than to rail you into the mattress, but she wanted you awake for such an experience, so she'll settle for a good old fashioned cock warming until later.
In your exhausted state you leaned into her comforting embrace, your sweet nature leading you to go against the very grain of rationality. All the alarm bells in your mind had been temporarily snoozed. Natasha knew it would take time to break you in fully, in the morning she anticipates you cowering away, so she held you even tighter to her chest, and watched as you slept peacefully. Not a single line of worry present on your face, as if you want to be here.
Deep down she knew you did... Girls like you need someone telling you how to live, to keep you safe, or else you will eventually wind up in the bed of some deviant. Natasha could never have lived with herself if you had met such a fate, but fortunately she saved you just in time.
"Goodnight kotenok," she placed a kiss to your hairline, then settled into the mattress with a dopey smile as she imagined the future; she was more than excited for the journey ahead.
Summary: Whilst working, Natasha makes a few discoveries about herself. 1 - she's lonely. 2 - people come from all walks of life.
Pairings: Devil!Natasha x Fem!Detective!Reader, Natasha x Wanda, Reader x Steve (exes, co-parents), Yelena x Natasha (sisters).
Warnings: Blood, guns, drugs, death, mourning, therapy. Please let me know if I've missed anything!
A/N: This episode was quite a trek to write but semi-important. I won't be writing every episode of Lucifer for this series but I do seriously recommend watching it.
Series Masterlist
*not my gif*
The partying devil lay flat on the therapist’s couch, explaining the events of last night in great sensual detail. A pizza delivery boy getting his first experience on the job in a lingerie party, the party itself having three Brittanys, or Brittanies if you wish, and drugs, sex and alcohol of course.
“But I didn’t join them. Three Brittanies in a jacuzzi, three! And I didn’t join them.” Natasha grumbled, dressed in one of her more flattering suits that had a black, lace-hemmed corset top beneath her suit jacket, the buttons undone and tempting the doctor on the other side of the coffee table.
“Why do you think you didn’t join them?” Kate asked, sitting up straight in her chair with a neat pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, her raven locks tied back in a bun.
“I don't know, Doctor. That's what I pay you to figure out, isn't it?” Natasha huffed, sitting up.
“Have you ever considered that all of this… excessive partying… may be your attempt to fill a void?” Kate offered.
“‘Attempt’? I filled five voids last night.” The devil smirked, folding one knee over the other.
The doctor sighed. “That’s not what I mean.”
When Natasha looked at her with a confused expression, Kate further explained. “A void in your emotional life. You sound… lonely, Natasha.”
The redhead almost cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy. “‘Lonely’? Have... have you been listening to a word I've said? I am never alone, I'm constantly surrounded by people, you know? I party whenever I desire, my bed is never cold.” She said with an exasperated sigh.
“Natasha, being alone and being lonely are two entirely different things.”
“Are they?”
“Of course. You may be surrounded by others, but… do you truly consider any of those people your friend? A peer you respect, someone you like to spend time with. Someone… with whom you share a meaningful connection.” Kate softened her voice, seeing how this was new territory for Natasha.
In classic devil nature, Natasha smirked. “Well, you and I connect quite well.”
Kate immediately shut it down. “I'm talking personally. …What about Wanda?”
Natasha’s smirk fell flat. “No. She and I are on the outs, I'm afraid. Long story filled with betrayal. You actually make a cameo in it.”
“How about Detective Valeria? Do you consider her your friend?” The doctor replied, staying calm despite the frustrated woman in front of her.
“Well, quite honestly, I... I'm not sure what we are.” She murmured.
Kate smiled gently. “Why don’t you try finding out?”
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After her therapy session, Natasha made her way back to Lux to enjoy a glass of her newest scotch ordered from Scotland, though it didn’t help that someone was already there. As she walked along the corridor, Wanda came running up the stairs in a strapless dress and thigh-high fishnet stockings. “Natasha? Listen, can we tal-?”
“I don't have time for traitors.” Natasha cut her off, her words almost a hiss.
“Look, I get that you don't want to talk to me. But someone else is here to see you for a favour.”
“Not in the mood, Wanda.”
“Trust me.You don't want to miss this one.”
When Natasha finally looked down at Wanda, there was a flash of demonic happiness in her eyes. Her irises glowed their swirling red, and she gently turned Natasha’s head by her chin to see a man waiting for her in the main club area.
“Be gone.” Natasha muttered to Wanda, a simple wave of her hand before Wanda made herself scarce.
Natasha slowly came down the stairs, tying up her hair whilst she buttoned up her suit jacket. If this was official business, she’d look official for it.
“You wanted to speak with me?” She declared herself known to the man.
As he stood, his bald head and dark skin tone reminded her of someone she knew by blood. He wore a suit, much like her own, though far more formal - and she didn’t wear a clerical collar either.
“Natasha Romanoff. I’m Father Frank Lawrence.” He introduced himself politely, a smooth slick to his baritone voice as he held out his hand to shake.
She didn’t shake it, instead chuckling. “A priest walks into a bar. I've heard this one before. Never seen it, though. At least, not here.”
She dawdled around to the other side of the bar, pouring herself some whiskey since the scotch had yet to be unpacked. “Padre, how did you of all people find me?”
“Don't let the collar fool you.” He gestured to it minutely. “I have friends from all walks of life. And some of these friends tell me you're the woman to see when you run out of options.”
“Ooh, what kind of nasty trouble have you gotten yourself into then? Pinched too much from the collection basket?” She teased.
“I'm here about a neighbourhood youth center.” Father Frank explained.
“Sounds dreadful.” Natasha grumbled, sipping the whiskey.
“It is... especially when you realise it's being used as a front for an illegal drug operation. The center's director, Lenny Arietta, is recruiting kids from my church to move his product.”
She tsked. “Ah, so this is about young boys, of course it is.”
“One in particular. A kid named Connor. He's had it rough. Lost both his parents at six. Bounced from home to home, some juvie. But deep down, a good kid.” He paused and pulled out his cell phone, a picture already loaded once unlocked.
The devil put down her whiskey and studied the image. A white young male, no more than 16 or 17. A blue beanie covered blonde hair, a grey shirt with a skull on it and blue collar hems, whilst he had a black zip-up hoodie with white drawstrings.
“So, diddling this one, are you?” She asked, handing the phone back.
He chuckled dryly, taking the phone back. “How about I not dignify that with an answer, and instead ask my favour?”
“Thank fuck, I was wondering when you'd get to it.” She grumbled, pouring another glass of whiskey.
“I want you to talk to Arietta before Connor gets involved.”
“And why not go to the police? Got something to hide, do you?”
“They were useless. Couldn't find anything on Arietta.”
Natasha felt a bit protective when he said that the police were useless. She knew that if you had been given this case, you would have tried your damned hardest to solve it. She just knew it.
“Why not ask your boss then, hey? The Almighty Himself.” She smirked, pointing at the ceiling but not looking at it.
“I already have.” He answered.
“Oh, no luck?”
“On the contrary - I believe he led me to you.”
She chuckled heartily. “Oh, I highly doubt that. So that's it, is it? Stop a drug ring to help some kid get out of trouble.”
Father Frank sat down as Natasha rounded the bar again, coming closer to him before she grinned lightly. “What's in it for you? What is it you really want? That dirty dark desire I can see you struggling to hold in.”
She watched with glee as her mojo worked on the priest, his eyes glazing over slightly. “What I really want… is to put my fist through Arietta's face.”
“Ha! And there it is. Wrath.” She grinned deviously, pleased with herself. “Ooh, not so high and mighty now, are you?”
“We all have demons inside.” He murmured, like he was shamefully admitting that fact.
She shrugged. “My demon tends the bar. So come on, what else are you hiding? Hypocrites like you always have something.”
“You don't know anything about me.”
“Oh, I know plenty. You and I are natural sworn enemies.”
He sighed. “Let’s cut to the chase - you gonna help me or not?”
“My answer to you, Father, is a big fat no. Handle it yourself.” She said, mocking his title before she walked off.
“Wanda?! Are the Brittanies still here?!”
“No - but Valeria called.” Wanda echoed through the halls.
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“You're lucky I don't have any active cases, or else I'd send this to Narcotics.” You grumbled as you walked with Natasha up the ramp of the youth centre, dressed in your black jeans, jacket, a blue-black striped long sleeve with your badge and gun in its holster.
“Narcotics? No, no, no, no. I don't give a damn about the drug dealer. We're here to investigate the priest.” Natasha clarified.
“Priest? I thought we were here to talk to the youth director.” You raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her motive for this case.
“We are. To get dirt on the priest. He must be hiding something. And what better way to stick it to dear old Dad than prove that those who speak on His behalf aren't as virtuous as they pretend to be?” She grinned.
You sighed as you approached the youth director’s office. “You thought it'd be a good idea to rope me into your imaginary family feud? Great.”
“Look, am I mistaken or do you catch bad guys? Now, this priest is up to something. Something nefarious... I can feel it.” Natasha said, looking at the passing children with a slightly disgusted expression.
“Last I checked, your feelings don't count as probable cause.” You remarked, knocking on the double doors to the office.
“Well, isn't the fact that he came to me probable cause enough? Or I could just interrogate this youth director by myself.” Natasha shrugged, knocking the door before you could stop her.
“No, just let me do the talking. Mr. Arietta?” You called through the door, checking the handle to find it locked.
“Hmm. Well, if I were trapped in here with these vile children, I'd lock my door as well.” She smirked.
You bent down and looked through the small glass gap of the door, scattered papers littering the floor as well as some knocked over science glassware. But just when you were about to pull away, you spotted a pair of legs lying face down on the floor.
“Back up.” You muttered to Natasha before you raised your foot and kicked in the door, the lock snapping on its way open.
“Well, Detective.” Natasha grinned before following you inside, momentarily staring at your legs and wondering about the strength they held.
“Look.” You said, alarmed at the sight of Arietta’s limp form on the ground.
You knelt down, stunned at the pool of blood by his head, and pressed two fingers to his carotid artery. “He's dead.” You uttered before pulling out your phone and calling it in.
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“M.E. puts the time of Arietta's death between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning.” You said to Natasha as she stood by you, crime techs working the scene methodically.
“Cause was multiple hits with a baseball bat. There are some abrasions on his face, so it looks like he struggled before he died. And I found this.”
“Ooh, what's that?” Natasha cooed like a pirate finding treasure, taking the small device but being careful to keep her fingers on the latex glove around it.
“It's a voice modulator. Hey, can you not do that?” You grumbled as she spoke into it.
“Detective, I am your father.” Her voice came out deeper and incredibly modulated, her chuckle afterwards making you shake your head.
“It's not a toy, Natasha. It could be evidence.”
“Well, I'm impressed. Looks like the priest handled it himself after all.”
“We don't know if the priest did this.”
“Well, maybe you don't.”
“Detective Valeria?” A crime tech called for you at the door just as you were about to get annoyed with Natasha.
You handed off the voice modulator to a crime tech and went to the door, a person waiting for you yet you didn’t wait for Natasha to follow.
“Hey, you're the head counsellor, right?” You said just as Natasha went under the tape.
“Uh, yeah. I’m Eric Doyle.” The man introduced himself, an overweight yet ‘gentle giant’ nature to his stature with a cropped haircut, a grey polo and jeans on whilst a clean watch was clasped on his wrist.
“Any idea who might've done this?” You asked him, folding your arms.
“No. I mean, everyone liked Lenny. He was a good boss.” He replied.
“So, he had no enemies whatsoever, no? Especially any who wear clerical collars?” Natasha snickered lightly at her obvious meaning.
Doyle’s face showed that he recognised the name. “So you know about the priest.”
“Oh, yes.” The devilish woman nodded, excited now that there was another lead in her favour.
“Yeah, that guy's always coming around here and getting into arguments with Lenny. But he's a priest, so… not much I can do about it.”
“Right. Mr. Doyle, where were you between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning?” You questioned, getting on with it.
“Uh... here. In counselling sessions with, uh, Nikki and Connor.”
“Connor? That's the altar boy from the priest's photo.” Natasha murmured.
Behind you, two officers were keeping away two teenagers. As you approached, you relinquished the officers and asked them for their names. Funnily enough, they were Nikki and Connor.
“So, is it, is it true Mr. Arietta's dead?” Connor asked slowly.
“Well, duh, dumbass.” Nikki scoffed, dressed in very emo-esque clothes, particularly the ‘SKATE OR DIE’ on her shirt next to a Dia de Los Muertos skull.
“It is. Yeah. Did you know him well?” You asked, trying to be gentle.
“A little, I guess. He- he- I mean, he ran the place.” Connor shrugged.
“Do you know if Mr. Arietta was involved in any drug activity?”
“Drugs?” Nikki laughed. “I mean, I wish he was. That would've made him more interesting.”
Natasha chuckled. “Okay. Enough about the dead guy. Tell me everything you know about Padre Pederast.” She pointed at Connor.
“Who?”
“Father Frank. Did you see him do this? Do you think he's capable?” She sighed, annoyed at his young teenage boy's mind for not catching up.
“Father Frank? Kill Mr. Arietta? No. No way.”
Nikki scoffed. “What do you mean "no way"? The guy's a creeper and totally obsessed with you.”
“He's just overprotective. Ever since my parents died, he feels like he's got to watch out for me or something. But he's a good guy. He's just a little... just a little annoying.” Connor shrugged.
“See? Annoying.” Natasha looked at you.
“Mm-hmm.” You lazily answered her. “When was the last time you saw him?”
You sighed, thanking the two before you went with Natasha to the station to look up the preacher, using the devil to help ID him visually.
“That's him. Frank Lawrence. The most evil of people have the most normal names, I've experienced. Beware anyone named Keith.” Natasha warned you, to which you nodded sceptically.
“Well, his criminal record's pretty extensive. assault and battery, disorderly conduct, drug charges.”
“See? Not very priest-like.”
“But nothing in the past ten years.” You added, searching the screen to find a very important document. “Ah, a restraining order filed by Lenny Arietta last week.”
“Ah, well, it's funny how Padre Punchy failed to mention a restraining order.” Natasha snickered. “Please tell me now we have enough to bring this priest down.”
“We have enough to bring him in. You ready to go to church?” You grinned, grabbing your jacket.
“Bringing down a priest is the only reason I ever would.”
“In. Bring him in.”
Natasha rolled her eyes lightly. “Yes, bring him in so we can bring him down. You’re no fun sometimes.”
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In the underground police parking lot, Malcolm stood and waited impatiently for his visitor. “I know you're there. What, are you watching over me? Like my own guardian angel.”
From the shadows, Yelena appeared, expressionless, in a neat blue suit with a white corset top, along with a few simple-banded gold rings on her fingers.
“Yeah. Grumpy guardian angel.” Malcolm mumbled.
“Forgotten about our deal, Malcolm? Because I brought you back from the dead for a single purpose.” She said, her accent making the man uneasy.
“Yeah, about that, I've... been meaning to ask. Why me?”
She raised a single eyebrow. “Why you?”
“Yeah. I mean, uh, I must be something special for you to go to all that trouble.” He grinned.
She chuckled darkly. “Don't flatter yourself. You're simply… in a unique position to do what I need done.”
His ego deflated at her words. “'Cause I'm a cop.”
“That, yeah.” She nodded, circling him. “And because… I know you'll do anything to avoid going back to Hell.”
When she stopped behind him, he stiffened at her breath on his neck. “Now, stop bothering me with these questions and just finish the task I've given you.”
Malcolm stepped forward to get away from her, turning whilst chuckling sheepishly. “Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm already on it, all right? Everything's going according to plan.”
Yelena began to walk away before she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Don't keep me waiting. Patience…” She chuckled. “She is not one of my virtues.”
Malcolm sighed, closing his eyes. “I promise you, I... I got this.” He stuttered because when he opened his eyes…
Yelena was gone.
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“Miss Valeria, Miss Romanoff, surprised to see you again.”
“Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world.” Natasha grinned deviously at the priest.
“Father Frank, when was the last time you saw Lenny Arietta?” You asked him, ignoring Natasha’s jokes.
“This morning.”
“Despite the restraining order.”
“I answer to a higher authority.” He argued slightly.
“Not today you don't.” Natasha sang teasingly.
You gave her one glance and she rolled her eyes, putting her hands in her pockets as she let you question the priest. “What happened when you saw him?”
“We exchanged words. Things got a little heated.”
“What were you fighting about?”
“That altar boy of his, of course.” Natasha chuckled.
You ignored Natasha again. “Why were you fighting over Connor?”
“Because I'm worried that Arietta's gonna pull Connor into his drug ring.” He said, the words suspiciously identical to his last reasoning.
“So, what, you give him a right hook?” Natasha smirked, pointing at his bandaged hand.
Father Frank lowered his head. “Sadly, I did.”
“And then what?” You asked, folding your arms.
“And then I left.”
“Ooh, no, no, no, I think you skipped a part, didn't you?” Natasha chimed in. “You know, the part where you beat him to death with a baseball bat?”
“He's dead?” Father Frank asked, shocked. “Oh, Heavenly Father.” He murmured, painting the cross on his chest.
Natasha rolled her eyes (it seems she likes doing that). “Oh, come on. How gullible do you think we are?”
Father Frank shook his head. “I had troubles with the man, but he didn't deserve to die. And I certainly didn't kill him.”
You sighed, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Can you account for your whereabouts between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning?”
Father Frank thought for a moment. “Uh, I was here. Taking confessions. Mrs. Madison had a lot to say, took up the whole hour.”
Natasha sighed. “By chance, does Mrs. Madison have a limo driver?”
The priest looked at her, confused at how she knew that. “She does.”
“Damn. Just spoke to his alibi.” Natasha said to you.
“You- What?” You muttered.
“The MILF in confession.” She added, pointing to the confession box where a woman stepped out, fixing her ruffled hair and dress as well as her lipstick.
You sighed, poking your finger on the bridge of your nose three times in frustration. “Oh, great. Yeah, as much as I'm sure that followed protocol, I'm still gonna have to question her myself.”
You turned to the priest. “Father, I'm gonna need you to come into the station for a statement.”
After Father Frank collected his jacket and valuables, you and Natasha walked with him outside of the church to your cars. However, your head perked up at the sound of screeching tires, and you spotted a handgun being pointed out of a car window.
“Get down!” You called out, shoving Natasha and Father Frank to the ground before getting down yourself.
A full round unloaded from the gun, a stray bullet hitting the bus stop shelter glass before the driver took off. You jumped up, and though you tried, you could not get a full plate number off of the speeding car.
“And you wonder why I don't go to church.” Natasha sighed, readjusting her suit and corset top.
After three police vehicles turned up and cornered off the church main entrance as a crime scene, you went inside to talk to some people. You sent a crime tech to search the partial of the plate you had, along with the model of the car before finding Natasha by the pews.
“So I spoke to Father Frank's alibi. Checks out. He was in confession with Mrs. Madison from 11:00 to 12:00. He's not our guy.”
Natasha sighed. “Well, maybe she's lying. I mean, you know the sort of people that go to church. Sinners.” She tried to joke, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood.
“Lab results from the voice modulator came back empty. No prints, no DNA. Whoever did this is good.”
“What, so you think this shooting and the youth director's death are connected?”
“We know they have at least one thing in common.” You said calmly, walking up to Father Frank as he sat in the front pew.
“Father, you will be relieved to know that no one was injured.”
“Oh, thank God.” He sighed in relief.
Natasha grumbled. “Please don't.”
You looked sternly at the priest. “Now, Father… this wasn't a random attack. They were shooting at you. But you don't seem surprised. What aren't you telling us?”
He stood whilst pulling out his phone, holding it out and putting it on speaker. “Keep your nose out of our business or else.” A distorted voice came through before the voicemail ended.
“The voice modulator from Arietta's office. You should have gone to the police with this.” You scolded lightly.
“I assumed it was Arietta, and I'm not afraid of him. But if it's The Spider…” Father Frank trailed off.
“Spider?”
“I've heard whispers of another dealer trying to take over Arietta's business. People call him ‘The Spider.’ Scary, violent reputation.”
“Do you know who this Spider is?”
“I don't.”
You studied him for a moment. His eyes couldn’t meet yours and his shaking head showed fear. “You're holding something back, Father. I can tell.”
“I have a confession to make.” He hurried out.
“Finally!” Natasha cheered. “Well, the truth will set you free... isn't that what your beloved book says?”
“I lied when I said Connor was in danger of becoming involved. He already is. Dealing for Arietta.”
“What, that's it? Oh, please don't tell me that's what you've been holding back all this time.” The redhead looked disappointed.
“Wait. If Connor's already in deep, why go to all this trouble to protect him?” You asked.
“He's had it rough. Thinks he can only rely on himself. He's a good kid, Detective. There's still hope for him.”
You shook your head. “Father, you were today's target. We need to worry about your safety first. Do you have a place to stay? We can offer police protection.”
“I'm fine right here. This... is my sanctuary.” He sighed, sitting back down.
“Well, your sanctuary just got shot to high heaven, Padre.” Natasha chuckled. “But if you're looking to lay low, I believe I know just the place.”
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Natasha smirked at Father Frank as he sat in the same booth he met the devil in, strippers dancing in front of them dressed as nuns… initially. They had kept the veils and coifs on, but underneath was nothing but dark red lingerie as they danced to Do Ya Thang Girl by DJ Jubilee.
“Thought this might make you feel more at home, you know.” Natasha smirked at the priest as she sipped on her scotch.
“Sure you did.” Father Frank chuckled.
You walked past the strippers and into the booth, sliding in next to Natasha. “Hey.” You greeted her, to which she gave you a gentle smile.
“Malyshka.” She greeted you back.
“So, partial plates from the shooter's SUV came back with a couple matches. But this is interesting, one of them was recently reported stolen outside the youth center.”
“Oh, so you think someone inside's responsible.”
“I think it's too much of a coincidence not to be, but I ordered traffic cam footage, so hopefully it'll show us who was driving.”
“Hopefully.” Natasha grinned, her eyes falling onto the stripper in front of her.
Your eyes even had a little wander before returning to the task at hand. “Couldn't resist, huh?”
“Well, the man deserves some fun.” The devil grinned.
“Or you still want to prove he's a hypocrite.
“Well, what can I say? Temptation's in my nature.”
Natasha’s eyes fell onto yours and you held her gaze for a moment. In that moment, you felt safe, like being in this lustful partying bar was the safest place on Earth purely because Natasha was there.
“Hmm. And how's that working out for you?” You grinned, looking at Father Frank.
His head was nodding along to the music, his hand tapping on his thigh. Natasha seemed confused by his clear delight at the sensual song. “Padre, does this not bother you?”
“What can I say? I love this song.” Father Frank chuckled.
As the night dragged on, the three of you were having a wonderful time. You even had a drink with them, Natasha ‘accidentally’ making herself sit on your right whilst Father Frank was on your left, keeping you safe.
“You sure you're gonna be okay in here, Father?” You asked, the case coming to the forefront of your mind.
“This? Oh, absolutely. I grew up in places like this.” He excused.
“Oh, I find that hard to believe.” Natasha snickered, sipping on a new whiskey flavour.
He shook his head at her before his posture looked like he was starting a story. “No one's born a priest. Before the cloth, I was just Frank Lawrence, a touring musician.”
“Really? Let me guess... cowbell.” She replied.
“Close. Piano. Good old rock and roll. Opened for Dylan, Bowie, the Stones…”
“The Rolling Stones?”
“Yep. It was a crazy time, let me tell you.” Father Frank chuckled. “I was a lot like you, really.”
As Natasha finished her whiskey, she shook her head with a wry smile. “That's literally impossible.”
“Thought the fun would never stop.” He sighed, a sad expression filling his eyes. “Then, uh…”
“Father, you don't have to…” You murmured, putting a comforting hand on top of his injured hand’s wrist.
“No, no, no, no. Go on.” Natasha interjected.
The priest nodded, giving you a comforting smile. “Car accident. Ten years ago. I was travelling with Connor and his family. Uh, Connor's dad was a drummer, we used to play together. Another car swerved into our lane and, uh… Connor lost both his parents that night.”
Your expression fell into a remorseful one. You couldn’t imagine losing someone like that.
“My daughter was with us, too. She didn't make it, either.”
Let alone your child.
“Thought I'd seen some dark days. Nothing compared to losing my little girl. My heart just... cracked right open.”
His whole body went still. His eyes didn’t blink, his chest barely moved. The memories were as fresh as yesterday’s breakfast for him, even if they were a decade ago.
“That pain…” You muttered, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry, Father.”
“Well, you must have been awfully angry at your beloved God.” Natasha said, a slight anger to her tone but not directed at Father Frank.
“I was so... untethered. Lost. Turning to Him is what saved me.” He replied, wearing a fake but gentle smile.
“So... hold on. God stole your spawn and then you decided to worship Him?”
“I can't really explain it, but somehow it made me feel that she was safe. That's when I discovered my faith. The church gave me purpose. It was there that I crossed paths with Connor again. Me, a parent without a child; him, a child without a parent.”
You smiled softly. “You connected with him.”
He nodded. “We might not always understand it, but God has a plan.”
Natasha sighed. “Yes. I know. But why does everybody always think it's a good plan?”
Suddenly, your phone began to ring and you cleared your throat from the emotion that Father Frank’s story had brought up. “Please excuse me, Father.”
He nodded, though you didn’t need his permission, and you left to take the phone call.
“So, can we just go back to this absurd notion that you and I are in any way similar?” Natasha asked.
“You're right. We're not.”
“Thank you!”
“I'm probably a much better piano player than you are.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow before she looked around the club. Her piano was in the centre of the floor but it was too packed and loud for the two. She turned to the human bartender and told him that she’d be upstairs if you needed her.
“Well come on then, Padre. Let’s test your silly theory.” She smirked, leading him up to the penthouse.
Of course, she let Father Frank play first, his fingers dancing over the keys with the practised grace of an experienced player; though, Knocking on Heaven’s Door wasn’t wonderful for her ears.
“D-Do you know anything that doesn't make me want to, you know, impale myself? Like, uh... Something more upbeat. Something a bit, um... I mean, like, uh…” She shrugged, sitting down on the top side of the piano seat.
Immediately, she grinned as a song came to mind, playing a wilder melody of Mess Around by Ray Charles.
“Oh. I think I know what you mean.” Father Frank matched her grin, beginning to play the bottom side of the song in a similar jive and rhythm.
“Something like that?”
“Yeah.” She smirked.
“Okay.”
As they played, Natasha was impressed. “Father has got soul.”
“You ain't seen nothing yet.”
“Oh? Would you like to take the top?”
“Why not? Excuse me.”
As they swiftly swapped places, with Father Frank playing a glissando up the keys whilst Natasha spun around him to sit on the bottom side, she laughed heartily.
Though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was having fun with this soulful priest.
It was then that you appeared in the elevator, though neither of them noticed. You were happily surprised by the sight before you, tapping your finger in your pocket to the rhythm as you came to lean on the bar beside the piano. After a few more seconds of playing, Natasha noticed you out of the corner of her eye and immediately stopped playing.
“Oh.” Father Frank chuckled, looking between the two of you.
“Hi.” Natasha said after clearing her throat, putting her stoic face back on.
“Hi.” You greeted softly, giving her a knowing warm smile as if to say ‘I caught you having fun with the priest, hypocrite’.
Natasha cleared the air with her shrug. “Yeah, well, I suppose that wasn't completely terrible.” She directed at Father Frank.
“Not completely.” He laughed, patting her shoulder gently.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Father Frank's story about The Spider checks out, and I got a lead so we should go.” You said, looking at Natasha.
She nodded and grabbed her jacket, patting Father Frank’s shoulder. “Well, you stay here. You need the practice.”
And the two of you left with the priest’s hearty laugh echoing in the penthouse.
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Upon exit of your car into a hidden skate park, you walked beside Natasha and mentally noted how she scanned the premises. “I talked to Narcotics and one of their CI's said The Spider's rumoured to hang out here.”
“Well, I don't know why you had to bring me along.” She said.
“What, are you anxious to get back to your new friend?” You teased.
She scoffed. “Please. The Devil friends with a priest? That's absurd.”
“It's absurdly adorable. You know, it's okay to admit you like the guy.”
“He's everything that I stand against, Detective.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes we get along best with the people we're most different from.” You shrugged.
As you scanned the place, Natasha observed you. You looked tired, a bit frazzled even. when she saw a man looking at your ass, she took a step towards you, glaring at him with the fury of a thousand suns.
If only her eyes were glowing. That would shock him into being a decent member of society.
“Look.” You said, pulling her out of her glare to look through the crowd.
“Oh. Little Miss Sunshine from the youth center.” She chuckling.
“Yeah, Nikki.”
“What's that she's doing?”
You watched her hands move swiftly between people before sighing. “Drug deal. And a smooth one. Maybe she's The Spider.”
“Ooh, black widow, then. Lovely.” Natasha grinned, about to stride forward and confront her but you held her back.
“Wait. She's giving it to someone else.” You muttered, pulling her back.
You pressed up against her chest, trying to minimise your visibility from Nikki. Natasha looked down at you, perplexed, her cheeks a little red as she tried to keep it down.
“To Connor.” You realised, seeing the boy accept the money from Nikki.
Then his eyes fell on you. With fear or rage or something in his eyes, he pulled out a gun and shot into the ceiling, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
“Get down!” You yelled, pulling out your own.
Though the crowd was working against you as you tried to squeeze through a gap between the people rushing out of the fenced skate ramp and the fence itself. You raced through the back door where Nikki and Connor went through, but the alley was empty.
“Gone. Great.” You sighed, putting your gun back in your holster.
“Why was the black widow giving her cash to altar boy?” Natasha asked, checking the alleyway with her glowing eyes as you checked your ringing phone.
“You never want to carry dr*gs and money on you at the same time. Makes you a target.” You opened your phone. “Or because Connor's The Spider.”
Natasha stopped glowing her eyes, satisfied that nobody was nearby, and looked back at you.
“Traffic cam footage.” You showed her your phone, a clear photo of Connor in the driver’s seat with a gun in hand.
“Ah, from the church shooting. So the boy the priest was trying to protect is the one who tried to kill him? Well, isn't that an ironic kick in the cassock?”
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When you returned to Lux, Father Frank was evidently shocked at the news by the way his hands shook whilst he held your tablet in his hands. “This doesn't prove Connor's The Spider.” He said firmly, giving you back the tablet which had Connor’s photos on it.
“It's pretty damning, Father. And it's enough for the APB that just went out. Connor's been declared armed and dangerous.”
“Armed and dangerous? The boy needs to be helped, convinced to turn himself in.”
“Father, he shot at you. He fired into a room full of kids.”
“Yes, but he shot up, didn't he?”
You sighed, knowing he felt for this kid as if he was his son. “We'll do everything we can to bring him in peacefully. I promise you that.”
Father Frank sighed too. “If you'll excuse me, I... need some air.”
Natasha wandered over with three drinks of whiskey in her hands, offering to the priest but denied. She then turned to you, smiling gently. “Drink, malyshka?”
You shook your head. “I have some digging to do. Will you watch over him until I get back?”
“What?” She huffed. “You want me to babysit the priest?”
You smirked as you retreated into the elevator. “I babysit you all the time.”
Natasha mumbled grumpily to herself as she walked towards her balcony, standing right next to Father Frank as he held a cigarette in the other hand.
“Need a light?” She offered.
He chuckled dryly. “No, thanks. Quit years ago. Still enjoy the ritual, though. Always keep one on me.”
She nodded, putting her lighter back in her pocket. “Please tell me you didn't come out here to talk to Him.”
“God? Why not? This is as good a spot as any.”
Natasha laughed, shaking her head. “Right.” She did pause though, looking at him with curiosity. “Does He, uh... does He ever talk back?”
He was quiet before answering. “I don't need to hear Him to... hear Him. If you know what I mean.”
“Well, yes, He never talks to me, either. Listen, um…” She said to quickly change topics. “Sorry about the altar boy. Surely you know you're not to blame. I mean, some people are just... beyond saving.”
“That's where you're wrong. There's still hope for him.”
She sipped on her drink, giving him a doubtful expression. “He shot up your church, he's most likely running a drug ring behind your back, and, oh, yes, killed a man.”
“I don't believe that.” Father Frank countered.
“Look, what if it's true?”
“Then he needs me even more.”
She scoffed, looking at him like he was a freak. “How can you still have faith in this boy?”
“God has faith in him. In all of us. Even in our darkest moments.”
“Oh, you really believe that.”
“I do.” He answered back quickly. “Why don't you?”
Her face fell stoic once again. “Because He didn't have faith in me.”
“Hmm.I felt that way once, too. But now I know, deep in my heart, God has a plan for me.”
“Oh, His plan for me was quite clear.” She scoffed, glaring at the cloudy sky for a moment.
“How do you know it's finished?” The priest chuckled.
Natasha stood there in silence, pondering his words and views. In her head, it possibly made sense that the plan for her wasn’t over. But the hatred and betrayal in her heart threw that thought into the garbage disposal, hoping that it could be as easily forgotten as it was learned.
“Excuse me. One of my parishioners, uh, a lot of them are still upset about the shooting.” Father Frank held up his phone.
Yeah. Don’t… Don’t worry about it.” She muttered, leaning on the balcony as he entered the elevator to take the phone call.
Pressing the ground button with determination on his face.
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After finding out Father Frank was no longer in Natasha’s custody, you quickly drove to the club and found Natasha.
“Why would he do that? Why would he just run away?” You scoffed, collecting the devil to the bar.
“Wanda, the priest, have you seen him?” Natasha asked the demon at the bar doing stocktake.
“So you're talking to me now?” She said bitterly.
Natasha glanced at you before glaring her glowing eyes at Wanda. “Have you seen him?!”
Wanda relinquished and bowed her head slightly, just enough for Natasha to be pleased and stop glowing her eyes. “He was down here on his phone. Heard him talking to someone named Connor. He left to go meet him.”
“He left? Where to?” You asked, though Wanda ignored you.
“Maybe he's trying to convince Connor to turn himself in.” You said to Natasha.
“No. He's probably trying to hide the little miscreant. Put his faith in God, not the police.” She scoffed.
“Why do you care about a priest?” Wanda sneered.
“I don't.” Natasha bit back, tempted to glow her eyes again.
“Where would he hide him? Where would he hide Connor?” You muttered to yourself.
“Somewhere he considers safe, I assume.” The devil shrugged.
It clicked in your head. “Sanctuary.”
You stormed out to your car, thankful that the valet hadn’t moved it, and jumped into the driver’s seat. You kept your lights and sirens off, and drove quietly along the street to the church.
“Malysh.” Natasha said quietly, trying to steady your shaking hand by putting hers on top. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to get involved with a shooting again? Jimmy did a number on your shoulder.”
You looked over at her briefly before driving, though not moving her hand from yours. “I’ll be okay. I did some extra exercises at the department.”
“Okay.” She said, though still worried.
As you stepped out of the car, you stormed up the stairs and pulled Natasha in behind you. “Behind me, always. You are not getting shot on my watch.”
You leaned in by the window of the front entrance door, seeing Father Frank with his hands in the air, with Connor pointing a gun at him. You snuck in quietly through the door, crouching to the floor so that you were no higher than the pews.
“You don't want to do this. I know you. This isn't you.” Father Frank reasoned with Connor.
“Sorry, I don't have a choice, okay? I have to do this.”
“I get it. You don't think you can rely on anyone else to survive... but you're not alone. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, son.”
“I don't need you! Okay? I don't need anybody!” He said, with a strained tone to his voice.
“Go on, then, shoot the altar boy.” Natasha murmured in your ear. “In the leg or something, obviously.” She added after you shushed her.
“Just do it, Connor. Pull the damn trigger already.” A voice said before a familiar face came from the right side of the church.
“That's Eric Doyle. That's our Spider.” You realised.
“The counsellor.” Natasha muttered.
“You know, Nikki… I trust her. But you? I think you're too attached to this preacher. You're gonna have to show me that you're not.” Doyle spoke to Connor, like a devil on his shoulders.
“No shot from here.” You told Natasha, moving closer to the scene.
“I know you, Connor. That drive-by, you intentionally missed me, didn't you?” Father Frank asked calmly.
“Stop talking. Please.” Connor whimpered, his hand shaking around the gun.
Doyle sighed. “Make him stop talking. It's really easy.”
“You couldn't do it then, and you don't want to do it now. God's giving you a second chance right here.” The priest whispered, trying to coax the boy towards him.
“E-Enough with the sermon, preacher! Connor, just shoot this son-of-a-bitch already.” The Spider huffed.
“Just follow your heart, son. I have faith in you.”
You slowly crept behind the front pew, gun in hand and eyes lasered onto Connor’s gun.
With a few trembling breaths and shaky hands, Connor lowered it and faced Eric. “I can't do it, Doyle. I'm sorry.” He said, dropping the gun.
Doyle sighed. “I'm sorry, too, kid. I can't allow weakness, not when I've just taken control.”
As he pulled out a gun, Father Frank pulled Connor backwards and behind him, stepping in front.
“No!” He yelled as Doyle fired the gun.
Straight into his heart.
You shot Doyle in the stomach, rendering him useless as you kicked away his gun. He wouldn’t die, though he would hurt.
“Hands up. Get down on the ground.” You told Connor, trying to be firm but gentle as he did exactly as you asked.
“Father!” Natasha yelled, rushing to his side. “No, no, no, you idiot! The bloody hell were you thinking?!”
“This is Unit 831 at St. Morgan's Church. We need two ambos, code 4.” You called into your phone, putting the phone down but letting it continue.
“Don't go anywhere, you moron!” Natasha growled at Father Frank, his suit quickly becoming sticky with blood as she put pressure on the front and back of his chest.
“It's okay. I'm not afraid of dying.” Father Frank muttered, spitting out some blood.
“Well, you should be. It's really boring where you're headed.” She said, pulling off her jacket and pressing it against his chest.
“I hope so. I've had enough excitement for one life.” He chuckled.
“Stop talking like that. You've got more to do here. You've got more people to annoy.” She said, her voice becoming shaky.
“Pressure on the wound, Natasha.” You told her, keeping your gun facing Doyle.
“I am!” She growled. “Just come on, Frank, stay with me, stay with me.”
He groaned as she adjusted him in her grip, time ticking by as all they could do was wait for an ambulance. Natasha had no first aid experience, and you didn’t have any equipment necessary for such a wound.
“Oh, uh... at first… I didn't understand why God put you in my path. But then it hit me.” He chuckled, blood spilling onto the cuffs of Natasha’s long sleeve shirt.
“Maybe... He put me in yours.”
“I… highly doubt it. He gave up on me a long time ago.”
“You're wrong, Natasha. Remember… your father... ha-has- has a plan.”
“My father?” She asked, confused.
“Yeah.”
She realised what he meant. “You know?”
Lightning flashed and thunder clapped above the church as she looked at the blood spilling beneath Father Frank. Though when she went to speak to him again, his eyes were in the back of his head, lying limply.
“Frank? Frank!” She yelled, still keeping pressure on the wound.
Though it was futile.
“Frank.” She whispered, lying him down on the ground.
Tears pricked her eyes as she closed his, looking up at the ceiling briefly before her sadness became anger. Frank was a good man, a loving father figure to Connor, but someone preyed on him.
“Natasha…” You murmured, trying to get her attention.
She looked over her shoulder at Doyle, blood seeping into his shirt and zip-up hoodie. “Time to pull the legs off The Spider.” She seethed as she walked over, picked him up and held him two feet off the ground by her hand around his neck.
“Natasha, stop!” You yelled as Doyle choked.
“Why did you do this?”
“I don't know.”
“Why?”
“He was bringing too much heat!”
“Why?! WHY?!”
Doyle’s choking began to grow quiet, his hands weakly scratching at Natasha’s hand on his neck.
Natasha, stop. Father Frank wouldn't want this.” You said, your breath shaky as you saw the scorned woman.
“Stop.”
She yelled out in anguish and let Doyle drop to the floor, not caring for his safety as his legs crumpled beneath him and he gasped for air.
You quickly came to her, holstering your gun as ambulance and police arrived outside. “Natasha…”
Her whole body went still. Her eyes didn’t blink, and her chest barely moved.
You watched her retreat out of the church towards the crime techs, speaking her part of the scene before you did the same. After what seemed like half an hour, you watched Natasha leave the scene in her car, with one of her valets at the wheel.
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Resting at home with Steve on the couch beside you, you turned the TV off and sighed. Steve, I know I wanted to talk, but, um... my mind, it's just…”
“Somewhere else?” He murmured, looking at you with a small smile.
“Yeah.”
He sighed. “Yeah, mine, too.”
“Can we do this another time?” You asked, smiling softly.
“Yeah. No problem, Y/N.” He answered, gently kissing your forehead.
He agreed to stay at the house to watch Peggy whilst you drove to Lux. You had seen the emotion in Natasha’s face, how hard her heart had shattered when Frank died.
As you entered the club, you smiled at the security guards who knew you by memory now. You casually made your way to the elevator, dressed in your work clothes but jacket in hand. As it opened, you smiled gently as the keys to Knocking On Heaven’s Door played from the piano.
You watched her for a moment, listening to how she played. The liquor in her glass told you she’d been there either for a moment or for hours, since there was a bottle beside the glass.
You were tempted to hum along but instead put your jacket down and walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to get her attention.
She immediately stopped playing and looked at you - with every ounce of attention she had.
“Hi.” You said softly, your hair hanging down like a beautiful waterfall for the redhead to admire.
She didn’t know what to say for a little while, but when you sat beside her on the piano chair she spoke. “Bit late for a new case, isn't it?”
You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “I'm not here for a case. I'm here for you.”
“Oh. Really?” She smirked, leaning slightly towards you as she tried to use her mojo.
“Yeah. Thought you could use a friend.” You murmured, gently brushing some hair out of her face with a focused expression before looking at her again.
She exhaled softly before clearing her throat. “Do you play?”
“Mm. No. No, I don't.” You replied with a light smirk.
“Come on, you must know something.” She insisted.
“No. Uh... All right, well... let me see. I had three years of lessons… and this is all I remember.” You said, beginning to play the melody to Heart and Soul.
Natasha laughed heartily. “Surely, you must be joking.”
You stopped, shaking your head at her with a cheeky grin before playing again. To Natasha, you had the funniest little expression of focus, your eyes carefully looking at the keys to remember.
“Alright, then.” She muttered, beginning to play the accompaniment to it.
Through the night, you sipped on her drink and she gladly refilled it when necessary. Fatigued and warm from both the alcohol and Natasha, she took you to her bed and let you rest in it for the night.
“Goodnight, malyshka.” She gently kissed your forehead, heading out to her balcony for a smoke.
She looked out onto the marvellous landscape of the city, lifting her lighter to the end of her cigarette but it would not light. In frustration, she threw the lighter off of the balcony, not caring who or what it hit when it landed.
She glared up at the sky. "You... you cruel, manipulative bastard! Was this all part of Your plan? It's all just a game to You, isn't it? Well, I know punishment, and he did not deserve this." She gestured to her sleeves and the bottom of her shirt, covered in blotches of Father Frank's blood.
"He followed Your stupid rules and it still wasn't fucking good enough! So what does it take to please You? Break Your rules and you fall! Follow them and you still lose?! Doesn't matter whether you're a sinner! Doesn't matter whether you're a saint! Nobody can win, so what's the point?!"
She leaned her elbows on the balcony railing, her head folding down into her chest. "What's the fucking point?"
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As midnight struck across town in a 24/7 diner, Malcolm sat with six plates of food around him and two empty milkshake glasses, another only half-full.
“Enjoying the life I gave you?” Yelena’s deep voice popped up from next to him, giving him a fright.
“Hey... did food taste this good before I died? ‘Cause I don't remember it being this friggin' delicious.” He chuckled, the angel beside him looking him straight in the eye.
“I don't care what you're doing with your new life, Malcolm... except for what I've asked of you. What's taking so long?” She questioned lightly, like she was his friend.
“Come on, come on, chill out, Yelenalady. Here, have some waffles.” He smirked, sliding over a plate of three waffles with strawberries and cream piled on top, though slightly melted.
After a flash of lightning outside, she was whispering right in his ear in a taunting voice. “Do you want to go back, Malcolm? Because I can make that happen.”
She watched the fear in his posture grow, his appetite slowing as he held a burger up to his mouth but didn’t bite it. “Yes… you're remembering it now, aren't you? I bet your 30 seconds in Hell felt like 30 years.”
Her voice became stern. “Imagine what eternity would feel like.”
“I'm sorry. Okay? Sorry. Look… I got it. An untraceable gun. It won't come back to me. I'm ready now.” He stammered out, showing a small pistol that had been removed from evidence, still in its bag.
“Good.” She smiled, patting his shoulder gently.
He cleared his throat. “So who do you want me to kill again?”
* . °•★|•°∵ SOLD OUT | Natasha romanoff x fem!reader
masterlist
Word count: 4.4k
Warnings: none just bad luck
A/n: yn is a singer
Written: June 6, 2026
* . °•★|•°∵ SOLD OUT ∵°•|☆•° . *
The tour bus smelled like sweat and leftover takeout, which was just the permanent state of things at this point. I was curled up in the back section with my legs thrown over the armrest of the little fold-out couch, one earbud in, scrolling through my setlist notes for probably the fifteenth time that day even though I basically had them memorised by now.
New York was in four days. One of the biggest venues I'd ever booked in my life, and every time I actually let myself think about it my stomach did this horrible sinking thing.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I squinted at it.
This is Tony Stark. I'm looking for YN YLN regarding her upcoming New York show. I'm interested in purchasing tickets multiple, along with some form of backstage access. I'm prepared to compensate generously. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
I stared at it for a solid ten seconds before responding
okay so. first of all who gave you this number. second of all what makes you think you can just text someone and be like "i'll pay generously" like what does that even mean. third of all the show is sold out, that's what sold out means.
I put my phone face down. It buzzed almost immediately.
I have my ways. And "generously" means whatever number you want. Money isn't really a concern. The show being sold out is exactly why I'm texting you
I picked the phone back up and actually laughed, which startled my tour manager Jane, who was sitting across from me going through tomorrow's schedule.
"What?" she said.
"Tony Stark just texted me," I said with a grimace, showing her the my phonescreen. Jane blinked. "Like, the Tony Stark?!"
"Apparently," I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking. The audacity of it was genuinely staggering. But I'd also been sitting with an idea for weeks now, something I hadn't been able to figure out how to pull off alone, and if Tony Stark was willing to walk into it-
I don't do ticket sales over text, especially not with strange men. If you want to have this conversation it's going to be in person. I'm in the city Tuesday. You can come to me.
Fine. Send the address.
The coffee shop I picked was small and tucked away, there were no big windows, and no unnecessary open space. I got there early, ordered an caramel latte macchiato I was too anxious to actually drink, and kept my sunglasses on even though I was inside. Marcus, one of my security guys, took a table by the door.
Tony Stark showed up on time, which I hadn't particularly expected.He entered confidently in an expensive grey jacket over a dark shirt, an expensive watch sitting on his wrist. He had someone with him too, a woman who posted up near the entrance without being asked, and Tony slid into the seat.
"You look younger in person," he said. "You look exactly the same," I said back, "Fair."
I took my sunglasses off and set them on the table.
"Okay," I said. "Why do you actually want tickets?"
He leaned back. "There's a kid, and he's been having a rough time at school and his birthday's coming up, he's a huge fan, and the show sold out before he could get them,"
"How old?"
"Fifteen, almost sixteen."
I wrapped both hands around my cup. "Okay. So here's the thing, there are going to be Make-A-Wish kids at the show, about twelve of them. It's not public, we're keeping it quiet. And I've been trying to figure out how to make it really special for the little ones," I paused. "ANd they’re all basically obsessed with superheroes."
Tony was quiet.
"So here's my offer," I said. "You bring some Avengers to the show. They spend time with the kids, talk to them, take photos, whatever feels right. In exchange, your kid gets tickets, backstage access, soundcheck, the works,"
He looked at me for a second. "Who do you want?"
"Iron Man, obviously. Captain America. I also want Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, I think kids who are going through hard things need to see people who are just human doing extraordinary things. And Bucky Barnes, because a metal arm is genuinely the coolest thing any small child has ever seen. Maybe Wanda Maximoff as she has powers. Oh and Thor cause he is a god,"
Tony had his phone out already. "I'll ask. Can't promise everyone,"
"Whoever can make it, I just need confirmation by Friday," I said smiling.
He looked up. "You're very organised for someone who called me a strange man in the first text,"
"You are a strange man," I said. "You got my number from god knows where,"
I almost laughed despite myself. "Friday," I said. "Text me."
The confirmation came Thursday evening.
Confirmed: me, Rogers, Romanoff, Barton, Barnes. Romanoff's condition: she brings her sister, Yelena Belova. Non-negotiable apparently.
I texted back: the more the merrier. see you saturday.
Then I went back to my setlist notes with my stomach doing the thing again.
-
I'd been at the venue since eight in the morning. It was nearly two in the afternoon and I was standing in the middle of the stage in black jeans and an oversized grey hoodie I'd stolen from somewhere, hair pulled up, and mentally listing every single thing that had gone wrong today, which was a long list.
The stage monitors kept cutting out, one of my backup guitars had a buzz nobody could explain, the spacing on the B-stage extension was wrong because someone had miscalculated the measurements, and we'd just discovered that the confetti cannons, which were supposed to fire at the end of the show, during the final song, had misfired twice in a row during the morning rehearsal, going off randomly and covering half the stage crew in silver confetti at nine AM.
"Just tape them shut and we'll manually trigger from the desk," I said to the stage manager, trying to keep my voice even. "Where are we on the B-stage?"
"A few centimeters off,"
"Move it and re-tape the marks," I turned to Jane "Where are the Avengers?"
She checked her phone. "About ten minutes out."
I took a breath. The crew was everywhere, cables across the floor, lighting guys up on ladders, catering being set up in the far corner.
It's going to be fine, I told myself, It's always fine when the show starts.
-
The Avengers came in through the loading dock, which was the only option that didn't cause a full collapse of the venue's security. Marcus and two of my other guys, Darius and Leo, had set up a holding point in the corridor. I met them there myself, still in my hoodie and jeans, hair still up, zero glamour. I genuinely did not have the bandwidth to care.
There were six of them, seven, including Yelena. (67)
Tony I recognised, steve Rogers was taller than I'd expected, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes had his metal arm mostly covered by a dark jacke.
And then there was Natasha Romanoff. She was standing next to Clint with her arms loosely crossed, red hair down, wearing a black leather jacket over a a red tanktop and some jeans. She was looking at me with an expression that was calm and completely impossible to read, and she was- I made myself stop that thought before it finished.Next to her was a blonde girl, Yelena probably.
Then there was a tall brown haired boy around fifteen, Peter, who I'd already figured out was Tony's kid. He had two friends with him Ned, and a girl with who introduced herself as MJ in the tone of someone making a very controlled effort to seem calm.
I took them backstage quickly, I had a soundcheck in two hours and a monitor situation that still wasn't resolved, so I was walking fast and talking fast and hoping everyone could keep up. I showed Peter the guitar rack and let him hold one of the acoustics for a second. His eyes went wide and he didn't say anything for a full five seconds, which told me everything.
Ned pointed up at the stage and asked what was happening with the section of lights who were flashing in and out while most of them simply stayed on, and I explained the cable situation without thinking, because the question caught me off guard.
"Are you going to fix it before tonight?" he asked.
"That's the plan," I said. "Fingers crossed,"
Peter elbowed him making Ned shrugged like he was just genuinely curious.
-
I'd had my team spend two days setting up the room for the Make-A-Wish kids, string lights, photos from the tour pinned up, personalised name signs on the table, little snack bags for each of them. When I walked the Avengers in, the room went completely silent for about two seconds, then a few seconds later it exploded into screams of joy and little kids running towards them.
The little ones went straight for Steve and Tony. A girl named Amara, maybe seven, in a Captain America t-shirt, walked directly up to Steve and said "Can I touch your arm?" Steve crouched down to her height immediately, smiled, and said "Sure." She poked his bicep with one finger and looked like she had confirmed something important.
Tony got cornered by an eight-year-old named Julian who had very strong opinions about how the Iron Man suit worked and wanted answers. Tony, to his credit, crouched down and actually engaged with it.
Bucky sat down on the floor next to a boy of about ten who was staring at his arm. Bucky caught the look and, without a word, rolled his sleeve back so the kid could see the metal properly. The boy looked up at him"Does it hurt?".
Bucky shook his head slowly "Not anymore,"
"That's really cool," the kid said, like it was simple. And Bucky's almost smiled.
Clint found the snack table immediately and basically sat on it, passing out bags to the cluster of kids who'd gathered around him. He was so easy with them, completely natural. Must have kids at home, i thought
Yelena had found two girls around nine years old and was talking to them in this very serious, respectful way, like she was having a conversation with equals.
And Natasha,
Natasha was standing slightly to the side, and she'd been approached by a few kids, and she was smiling in a way that made me realise her face at rest was just a resting bitch face, because when she smiled it was something different entirely. A girl of maybe eight was showing her a drawing, and Natasha was leaning down to look at it, asking questions and listening.
I was watching for probably longer than I should have been when I felt a tug on my sleeve. When I looked down I saw Lily there.
She was nine, dark braids, wearing a black sequin top with redleggings and light-up sneakers. She wasn't one of the Make-A-Wish kids, she was here because I'd invited her, personally, after meeting her six months ago at a children's hospital visit in LA. She'd been in the middle of treatment then, thin and tired and still somehow bouncing with energy when I walked in. We sat together for almost an hour. She'd told me her favourite songs, about her favourite color and about her friends. She was doing better now though.
Lily was staring at Natasha with the expression of someone who had completely stopped breathing.
"Hey," I said softly "You okay?"
She grabbed my hand and pulled me closer and whispered "Can you take me to meet her."
"You could go yourself, you know,"
She shook her head so hard her braids flew "Please,"
One second of internal debate before i answered "Okay come on."
I walked over with Lily still gripping my hand, and Natasha looked up as we got close. Her eyes dropped to Lily first, and she smiled immediately.
"Hi," she said, crouching down to her level "What's your name?"
Lily stared for a second before she had the guts to speak "Lily."
"Hi, Lily. I'm Natasha."
"I know," Lily said "You're my favourite. Because you don't have powers and you're still the scariest one."
Natasha laughed, genuinely, surprised by it and said "That might be the best compliment I've ever gotten." She glanced up at me for just a second, and the look on her face was open in a way I hadn't seen yet, and then she looked back at Lily. "Do you want to take a picture?"
Lily turned to me with the expression of someone whose entire life had just been completed.
I took the photo. Natasha stayed crouched and let Lily look at it on my phone. And Natasha glanced up at me again and said quietly, "Thanks for bringing her over."
"She wouldn't have gone without backup," I said.
"Smart to pick her support carefully." Something in her voice had a second layer to it that I couldn't quite catch.
My phone buzzed. Jane: soundcheck in 30 mins you need to be here NOW.
"I have to- " I started.
"Go," Natasha said easily. "We're fine"
"I'll come back before- "
"YN," Her voice was quiet. "Go do your job."
I looked at her for a second. Then I said "Right," and left, and I was already down the corridor before I noticed I was smiling.
-
The VIP ticket holders had been let in, about three hundred people on the floor of a room that held twenty thousand. I stood at the microphone in my soundcheck outfit: black shorts, a white lace tanktop and white trainers, hair loose. I looked out at three hundred people in all that space and reminded myself how to breathe.
I played five songs. The monitor situation had been mostly sorted. But my in-ear kept dropping in and out for the first song and I pushed through it because there was nothing else I could do about it. The lights were obviously not working right as I had the most rave-like lights on at my slowest song. It was obvious to anyone that everything around me didn't go as planned.
At the end I stepped up to the mic and thanked the VIPs, told them a couple things about the show. My voice sounded steady yet my hands were shaking.
"Thank you," I said. "Genuinely. This one means a lot that you guys are all here"
Three hundred people cheered like it was a full show, and I stood in that sound for a moment and let it hold me up a little.
-
The backstage bathroom I'd pointed the Avengers toward was the one at the end of the corridor, past the catering table, less people and more privacy. I'd suggested it thinking about them, I hadn't thought about myself needing it too.
I was standing at the sink, both hands on the edge, looking at my own face in the mirror. Hair half-fallen out of the bun, mascara slightly smudged, the particular look of someone who had been in a building for eight hours and not having had a single pause. The confetti cannons still weren't fixed, the B-stage tape marks had been redone but I hadn't walked them yet, the monitors had been better at soundcheck but better wasn't the same as good. The show was in two hours and I felt like I was holding a hundred things at once and my grip was slipping on all of them.
I turned on the cold tap and splashed water on my face.
You have done this before, I thought, you’ve have done this a hundred times.
The door opened and Natasha walked in, looked at me once, and said: "Soundcheck went like shit."
I laughed and turned from the mirror to look at her, and she was leaning against the doorframe with something almost like a smile on her face.
"It really did," I said.
"The monitors kept- " she made a wavering gesture.
"I know. It's- we fixed most of it, I think." I turned back to the mirror, pressed my fingers under my eyes where the mascara had smudged.
"You looked like you needed a second," she said, not unkindly. She came further in, leaned against the counter a few feet down. I laughed, short. "Is it that obvious?"
"A little"
I looked at her sideways, then I looked back at my reflection and said, because she was just standing there being very calm and I was very tired of holding things in "It's the biggest show I've ever played. And everything has been going wrong all day. And I keep telling myself it'll be fine when it actually starts, because it always is, I just-" I stopped and took a breath. "I can't make myself believe it right now,"
"That's fair," Natasha said.
A quiet stretched out between us.
"At first i wasn’t sure if i was going to come" She said honestly
"So what changed you’re mind"
"Yelena, she really likes your music" A small pause. "And i like kids"
I smiled despite myself. "How's it going so far?"
"Manageable." She looked at me, and her voice went a little softer. "Lily was cute."
"She had a rough year," I said. "We met at a hospital visit in LA when she was in the middle of treatment." I picked at the edge of the sink. "She's doing better now, but, she wrote me a letter after. Said the Black Widow was her favourite because she was proof you didn't need anything special to be extraordinary,"
Natasha was quiet for a second.
There was something in the way Natasha looked at me then. It made me want to look somewhere else, so I turned back to the mirror and fixed a strand of hair, just to have something to do.
My phone lit up, I picked it up before it could ring.
"One of the crew went home sick," Jane said. "We don't have anyone on the quick-change station and the show is in two hours, I need you- "
"Coming," I said. "Two minutes,"
I hung up and looked at Natasha apologetically.
"Go," she said.
I had my hand on the door when she said "Hey."
Making me stop immediately.
"It's going to be a good show," She said smiling.
"You don't know that," I said.
"Mmm, wel I hope that it will as I really look forward to seeing you on stage," She said.
My throat felt tight for a second, making a gulp. "Thank you." I pushed the door open. "Tell Jane if you need anything- "
"Goodnight, YN." And then, when I gave her a look: "Go. I'm teasing."
I walked down the corridor fast, and I was smiling, and I didn't know when that had started.
-
The first half went perfectly.
I don't know how, after the day we'd had, but it did. I walked out in my first look, a black sequin mini dress that hit mid-thigh, silver heeled ankle boots, hair down in loose waves, a thin silver chain and small studs in my ears, and the sound of twenty thousand people hit me like a wall, and every complicated feeling from the day collapsed into one clean thing: this is my why.
I'd been doing this for years and it still happened every single time.
The opening songs were tight. I went to the B-stage for the acoustic section and the crowd went so quiet I could hear individual voices in the front rows, and I was completely inside the feeling, not thinking about anything except the music and the room.
The second half was where everything went sideways.
I was mid-song, a fast-paced one, one where i’m running and jumping around the stage, when I came down from a jump and my right heel just snapped completely, loud enough that the people right at the front heard it over the music, and I felt it, a full lurch sideways, and I stumbled two steps before I caught myself on the mic stand.
The crowd noise dipped for exactly one second.
I grabbed the mic and pointed out at them like it was a bit, like that was part of the show, and grinned, and someone in the crowd screamed "ARE YOU OKAY" and I laughed into the mic and said "I'm great, don't worry about me" and just kept going.
But the boot was done. Every step after that on my right side was wrong. I was performing in one heel and one flat and trying to make it look intentional, which was one of the more challenging things I'd done onstage. I pulled back on two of the bigger runs across the stage. I angled myself so the broken side was less visible.And then, because the universe apparently had more to say, the confetti cannons fired.
Not at the end of the show, where they were supposed to.Instead they went off in the middle of the third song of the second half. All of them all at once. An absolute wall of silver and gold confetti blasting out over the stage and the first twenty rows, catching in my hair and the lights, covering my dress, getting in my mouth mid-lyric. The crowd absolutely lost it, screaming, laughing, reaching up for it, and I turned to the wings for half a second with the expression of someone being personally victimised, and I could see Leo from my security team physically trying not to laugh, and I turned back to the crowd and just leaned into it completely, spread my arms out, and the whole room roared.
I sang the rest of that song covered in confetti with one broken boot and no plan.
The final songs went without another incident, which felt like a personal apology. I hit the last note and stood in the white lights and the noise of twenty thousand people, and my ankle was throbbing and I had confetti in places confetti had no business being and I was grinning so hard my face hurt.
-
The goodbyes took about twenty minutes.
I went through the Make-A-Wish kids one by one, crouching down, taking photos, talking to each of them by name. Amara showed me her selfie with Steve and declared it the greatest photo ever taken in history. Julian had interrogated Tony three more times about the suit. The boy who'd talked to Bucky about his arm had drawn a picture of it and given it to him, and Bucky had folded it very carefully and put it in his jacket pocket without a word.
Peter, Ned, and MJ were standing slightly to the side in various states of not knowing what to do with themselves.
"This was- " Peter started, to me, and then just kind of stopped.
"Genuinely," Ned said, which covered it.
MJ looked at me and said, in a very controlled voice: "Thank you for having us." And then, after a pause.."It was amazing”
"Thank you guys," I said.
"And also happy early birthday," I said to Peter, right after Tony whispered in my ear that tomorrow was his birthday. And then said to Tony: "Thank you for the text."
Steve shook my hand and said genuinely that he thought I'd done something good tonight, Clint said the show was "genuinely fire" which made me laugh out loud, and bucky nodded at me.
Yelena stepped forward and hugged me, "You were amazing," she said. "She means it," Natasha confirmed.
And then everyone else was heading toward the loading dock and it was just me and Natasha in the corridor, and she was looking at me the same way she had been all night.
"Surprised you made it through the night," she said quietly, but a smug grin spread across her face.
I was still in my stage dress, one working boot, confetti in my hair, mascara probably halfway down my face. I was aware of all of this and somehow didn't feel any of it.
"Barely," I said "The confetti- "
"I saw," she said, and her mouth curved.
“Well it was very pleasant to have you in the crowd” I said feeling a little bold.
"Careful," Natasha said. "That's dangerously close to a compliment."
"I'll be more vague next time."
"Next time," she said, and her voice gave absolutely nothing away, and her eyes gave absolutely everything away, and I was very aware I was staring.
"Nat," Clint's voice, from down the corridor. "We're going."
She held my gaze for one more second. "Goodnight, YN."
"Night," I managed.
She turned and walked toward the exit, and I stood there.
Then Clint came back.
He walked back down the corridor toward me, and Darius stepped forward instinctively. I put a hand up "It's fine."
Clint stopped in front of me, he had the look of someone doing a genuinely good deed while also finding it very funny. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket, small, torn square, a phone number in neat handwriting, and pressed it into my hand.
"Don't say I gave it to you," he said, very clearly and very quietly.
Then he turned and walked back out without looking back.
I looked down at the paper and closed my hand tightly around it.
-
I texted from my dressing room, sitting on the couch still in my stage dress, one ankle up on the cushion, the sounds of the crew packing down drifting through the walls.
YN: Hey.
just making sure Clint didn't give me a fake number.
NAT: ou think he'd go through all that effort?
YN: honestly? maybe.
NAT: Fair. For what it's worth, I would have found a way to give it to you myself.
word count: 800
warnings: none
A/n: This was the first one-shot I published, and I think it's very cute, so enjoy!
written: June 20, 2024
* . °•★|•°∵ SECRETIVE ∵°•|☆•° . *
NATASHA'S POV
"Nat, why can't we know where you are going tonight?" Tony whines as I leave the compound without giving them a reason for the third time this week.
I understand that they want to know what I do in my free time as I was normally always training in the compound.
But a little privacy is needed sometimes.
So I roll my eyes and take my bag to leave.
-
"Please Nat I'm your best friend! Just tell me, you can trust me," Clint asks as we sit alone in the living room.
"I know I can trust you, but I won't tell you,"
-
"Tony why the hell is there a tracker on my motorbike?!" I yelled at him, luckily I saw it before I left.
"Euh,"
-
-
Sadly enough, I was put on paperwork for the rest of the week because "my disobedience could have put my team in danger" according to Fury's words.
I was being shot at? What did you expect me to do??
So now I'm alone in the compound as the whole team had to leave for an important 3-day mission.
- 1 day later -
It was quite boring to be fair, that's when I got the idea of inviting my girlfriend over.
She had never been in the tower before or met my friends.
I want to keep her for me, safe, without the judgment and dangers of others.
Selfish? No, just a good girlfriend.
So I called her and said she could come over for tonight. Of course, she was excited, who wouldn't? It's the Avenger Tower.
I turned off all security cameras in the compound and the one from the front gate so that she could come in without being recorded or noticed.
"Nat!" Y/n greets me when she arrives, a big smile plastered on her face.
"Hey baby," I say before kissing her lips.
"Can you show me around, pleaseee" She pleads.
"Of course! I had thought we could watch a movie afterward," I tell her as I guide her around the halls.
"I thought you would say so, I already have a list prepared," She giggles.
cute.
We sat on the couch watching a movie called 'The Devil Wears Prada'
To be honest, I think she chose that movie because of Anne Hathaway I can't blame her though.
I fell asleep mid-movie feeling safe cuddled up against her.
Y/N'S POV
Nat was sleeping peacefully when I started hearing some noises. I wondered if I should wake her up, but chose not to. It was probably animals or the vents.
But, as a matter of fact, it was not the vents or an animal. Next thing I know a bunch of people enter the room, all looking at me with widened but exhausted eyes.
"Nat, wake up!" I whisper-shout as I shake her awake.
"What-" She shoots her head up, looking around for the reason I woke her.
She locks eyes with Tony before he speaks: "I knew we were easy to replace, but in a day? Never expected that,"
"Is that why you turned the cameras off, to have your girlfriend over?"
"So that is where she was heading nearly every night,"
I can feel Natasha tensing up at the comments of her friends.
I take her hand in mine and interlace our fingers under the blankets.
"Why the hell are you all here? You shouldn't have been back until Wednesday!" She yells angrily but confusion lingers in her voice.
Oh fuck she's scary when she is angry.
"Mission ended early," Clint says shrugging his shoulders.
"So what is the girlfriend's name?" Sam asks.
Natasha doesn't even have time to respond that Tony is already answering.
"If JARVIS is correct, her name is Y/N Y/N/L, 26, working at a locale library near Chelsea,"
I look at him confused as to why he knows that information. But as everyone was looking at me I hid behind the blankets.
"Everyone out! Out of the room! If I see somewhere in here before tomorrow 1 pm you have a death wish," She says in a very scary and angry manner.
Everyone leaves the room very quickly, knowing she was probably not joking.
"I'm so sorry," she mumbles, resting her head against my chest and sighing.
I wrap my arms around her. "It's not your fault. It doesn't bother me," I reassure her.
"I was supposed to keep you safe from them," she says, looking up to meet my eyes.
"I can defend myself," I whisper, kissing her forehead.
"Some have superpowers," she says, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, you don't believe me, huh?" I tease, starting to tickle her, making her giggle and laugh.
. °•★|•°∵ Wrong idea ∵°•|☆•° . * | natasha romanoff x fem!reader oneshot
Masterlist here
word count: 1.7k
warnings: none
A/n: I've had this idea for a while now :)
written: May 5, 2026
. °•★|•°∵ Wrong idea ∵°•|☆•° . *
BUCKY'S POV
The common room smelled faintly like cheap beer, pizza, and whatever weird candle Wanda had lit earlier.
Sam was losing horribly at Mario Kart while aggressively blaming the controller. Tony was recording him for blackmail purposes. Thor somehow sat on the floor despite there being six empty couches around him.
Pretty much a normal Friday evening at the tower.
I glanced down at my phone before typing quickly.
Bucky:
u alive?
Y/n:
unfortunately yes
Bucky:
we're going drinking tonight
Y/n:
oh absolutely not
Bucky:
you literally said and i quote
"if i stay in one more friday night im going to lose my mind"
Y/n:
i say a lot of things
Bucky:
come onnnn
Y/n:
who's going?
Bucky:
everyone
Y/n:
everyone everyone???
Bucky:
yes
don't be dramatic
Y/n:
natasha romanoff doesn't like me
Bucky:
She doesn't like a lot of people
Y/n:
comforting thank you
Bucky:
please come
sam already asked if you were coming
They wan't to finally get to know u
Y/n:
tell sam to shut up
Bucky:
so you'll come?
Y/n:
only if all my drink's are on you tonight
Bucky:
deal
I smirk slightly before shoving my phone back into my pocket.
"You invited her?" Steve asks from the kitchen island while opening another beer bottle.
"Yeah."
"Finally," Sam says immediately. "I genuinely thought Barnes made her up."
"Why are you all obsessed with Y/n?" I ask annoyed.
"Because you disappear every weekend with her," Tony says dramatically. "Nobody knows where you go."
"We literally just hang out."
"Mmhm," Natasha hums from the couch.
I glance toward her. She was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, dressed completely in black as always. Rings covered her fingers, one slowly tapping against her glass.
That tone already annoyed me.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"Nothing," She says casually before taking a sip of whiskey.
Sam snorts. "Romanoff thinks your little friend is in love with you."
"What?"
Natasha shrugs slightly. "I didn't say in love."
"You implied it," Wanda says.
Tony immediately gets invested. "Aren't you already dating someone?"
"Oh my god," I mutter, rubbing my forehead.
"She spends every weekend with you," Natasha says calmly. "You go out together constantly. She calls you at ridiculous hours. Last week she came to pick you up at 2 am."
"Well we aren't clubbing at 10pm ," I say.
Natasha keeps going anyway. "And she touches you constantly."
"That means nothing," Wanda says.
"It usually means something," Natasha replies.
I stare at her blankly. "Nat, she's just my friend."
Natasha raises an eyebrow. "You're very oblivious sometimes."
"Or maybe," I say slowly, "you are overthinking."
She just shrugs again like she doesn't care, but the look on her face says otherwise.
Y/n hadn't really met the Avengers before. Sure, she had crossed paths with them a few times in the tower, usually while waiting for me to finally put my shoes on or grab my jacket. A quick hello here and there, maybe a short conversation in the hallway, but nothing longer than a few minutes. Most of them were decent to her. Polite. Casual. The kind of friendliness you give someone you don't really know yet.
Natasha was the exception.
Every interaction with her felt tense for no reason. The redhead would look Y/n up and down with a subtle expression of judgment before barely acknowledging her existence. Sometimes it was just a glance, other times a condescending smirk or an unimpressed stare that lingered a second too long. Y/n never understood what she had done wrong, but it was obvious Natasha had already made up her mind about her.
Y/N'S POV
I regretted agreeing the moment I stood in front of my mirror.
Not because of the Avengers.
Because of Natasha Romanoff.
The woman genuinely looked at me like I had personally wronged her every single time we met.
I changed outfits three times before settling on black jeans and a dark green top with an oversized leather jacket. Casual enough to not look like I was trying too hard.
Not that it mattered.
My phone buzzes again.
Bucky:
u better not cancel
Y/n:
im literally putting shoes on
Bucky:
well put them on faster
Y/n:
if natasha kills me im haunting you
Bucky:
dramatic
Y/n:
she looked at me last time like i shot her cat
Bucky:
that's just her face
Y/n:
LIES
The bar was warm, crowded, and dimly lit.
Old rock music played softly through speakers overhead while golden lights reflected against dark wooden walls. The booths were red leather, slightly worn out at the corners, and the smell of alcohol mixed with expensive perfume and rain from outside.
I spotted them immediately near the back.
Thor was somehow already loud despite them only arriving ten minutes ago. Tony leaned over the table talking with his hands dramatically. Wanda laughed at something Steve said quietly beside her.
And Natasha sat near the end of the booth.
Black silk button-up slightly opened at the collarbone. Dark eyeliner. Red lipstick. One hand lazily wrapped around a glass of whiskey.
Her eyes immediately land on me when I walk over.
I try to keep my head cool, and ignore her completely.
"Finally!" Sam yells dramatically.
"Oh shut up," I mumble while sliding into the booth beside Bucky.
Across from us Natasha watches the interaction silently.
Her expression unreadable.
NATASHA'S POV
Y/n was pretty.
Annoyingly pretty actually.
Messy hair like she had run her hands through it multiple times before coming here.Silver rings on nearly every finger, smudged eyeliner, confident smile.
And very comfortable around Bucky.
Too comfortable.
She leaned into his shoulder while laughing. Took sips from his drink without asking. Nudged his leg under the table when making jokes.
And Bucky looked happier than he had all week.
I didn't trust it.
"So Y/n," I suddenly say while swirling my drink slightly. "Do you always spend this much time with Barnes?"
The table quiets slightly, Wanda glares at me but I just smile.
Y/n glances toward me. "Pretty much."
"Interesting."
Bucky already sighs beside her. "Nat."
"What?" Natasha asks innocently.
"Stop interogating her, you're making her uncomfortable" Wanda points out.
"I'm making conversation."
"You're scary," Sam says to no one in particular.
I ignore him completely. "And what exactly do you two do together all weekend?"
Y/n stares at me for a second, before smirking innocently. "Very romantic things actually." She said over exaggerating the words.
Bucky snorts into his drink.
"We play video games and argue over takeout," Y/n continues casually. "Sometimes poker."
"And she cheats," Bucky says.
"I do not!"
"You hide cards in your sleeve."
"Allegedly."
Everyone laughs slightly except me.
I keep staring, trying to understand how oblivious everyone was.
Y/N'S POV
By the second hour I was genuinely getting irritated.
Every single thing I did seemed to annoy Natasha somehow.
I laughed too hard? She stared.
Touched Bucky's shoulder? She looked unimpressed.
Tasted Bucky's drink? Judgment.
Even when Bucky put his arm around the back of the booth behind me while talking, Natasha's jaw visibly tightened.
At some point I excused myself to go to the bathroom, mostly because I needed five minutes away from whatever weird tension this was.
The bathroom was quieter than the bar.
Dim yellow lighting. Marble counters. Smell of vanilla soap and expensive perfume lingering in the air.
I leaned against the sink slightly, fixing my eyeliner in the mirror.
Then the door opened behind me.
Of course.
Natasha walked in calmly, heels clicking softly against the floor.
She closed the door behind her firmly.
"You know," She says casually while walking toward the sink beside me, "you're very touchy with him."
I stare at her through the mirror. "Excuse me?"
"Bucky."
I turn toward her fully now. "What about him?"
"You're all over him."
The annoyance immediately snaps something in me.
I let out a short laugh. "Jesus christ."
"What?" Natasha asks coldly.
"You seriously followed me into a bathroom for this?"
"You didn't answer the question."
I cross my arms. "And you seriously care because?"
Her jaw tightens slightly. "Because he just got into a relationship recently and-"
"Oh my god," I interrupt, suddenly understanding.
Natasha frowns. "What?"
"You think I'm trying to sleep with Bucky?"
"You act like-"
I burst out laughing before I can stop myself. I laugh, maybe even to loud, but god did it feel good to finally relax.
Natasha looks deeply unamused.
"I'm sorry," I say between laughs. "This is genuinely insane."
"What's insane is how attracted you are to him."
"Natasha," I say slowly, "I would rather die."
She blinks once.
"What?"
"Bucky is basically my brother."
"You literally sit on his lap sometimes."
"Because he steals all the space on the couch!"
Natasha still looks unconvinced.
I sigh dramatically before saying, "I'm a lesbian."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Natasha stares at me for a few seconds too long.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
Suddenly every weird interaction over the past months visibly replays in her brain.
The glaring, the cold comments, the fucking suspicion.
And for the first time all evening Natasha Romanoff genuinely looks embarrassed.
"You thought I had a crush on him," I realize slowly.
She exhales through her nose. "I may have misunderstood."
"You have been mean to me for months because you thought I wanted to fuck Bucky?"
"When you say it like that it sounds bad."
"Because it is bad."
A small laugh escapes her despite herself.
The second she stops glaring, I realize she's actually ridiculously attractive up close.
Which feels unfair considering she apparently hated me thirty seconds ago.
Natasha rubs her forehead slightly. "Okay. I owe you an apology."
"You absolutely do."
"And probably a drink."
I raise an eyebrow.
A slow smirk appears on her lips. "Just to be transparent. I'm also a lesbian" She says innocently.
Oh.
BUCKY'S POV
"Why are they taking so long?" Sam asks.
"It's been like fifteen minutes," Steve says.
"I think Romanoff killed her," Tony says casually.
"Someone should maybe check on them? Natasha did not like her," Wanda said concerned.
Then suddenly both of them walk back toward the table together.
Laughing.
Natasha's hand was lightly resting against Y/n's lower back while talking to her quietly. Y/n leaned closer to hear her over the music.
The entire table goes silent.
"What the hell happened?" Sam blurts out, when they are close enough to hear him.
"Slight misunderstanding," Natasha says calmly before sliding into the booth.
Y/n sits beside her this time instead of me.
Traitor.
Natasha signals the bartender over. "Get her another drink."
Y/n smirks slightly. "Trying to buy my forgiveness?"
"Is it working?"
"Maybe."
"You thought she was into Barnes," Clint says pointing at Natasha.
Natasha immediately shoots him a warning look. "Careful Barton."
"No because it all makes sense now," Clint continues anyway, grinning stupidly. "You've been glaring at this poor girl all night for nothing."
I stare between them completely confused while Y/n stares back at me with a shrug.
"What happened in the bathroom?" Sam asks immediately.
"Conversation," Y/n says before taking a sip of her drink.
Natasha lets out a quiet laugh beside her.
Okay what the hell.
Y/n leans back slightly against the booth, finally looking relaxed for the first time tonight. Natasha's arm rests along the back of the seat behind her, fingers lazily tapping against the leather.
* . °•★|•°∵ UNFAMILIAR | Natasha romanoff x fem!reader
masterlist
Word count: 5k
Warnings: mentions of Hydra but not much
A/n: I LOVE THIS SO READ THIS <3
Written: May 17, 2026
* . °•★|•°∵ UNFAMILIAR ∵°•|☆•° . *
Y/N'S POV
The rain had started nearly an hour before your arrival at the compound, not violently enough to be called a storm, but steady enough to turn the endless concrete surrounding the building slick and reflective beneath the pale security lights. The black SUV that had transported you from SHIELD disappeared almost immediately after dropping you off, its tires hissing softly against wet pavement while you stood there for a brief second with one duffel bag hanging from your shoulder and another gripped tightly in your hand, staring up at the enormous glass-and-steel structure that would apparently now be considered home.
You didn’t feel anything about that. You weren’t nervous and weren’t excited. It was just like any other place you’ve stayed at before.
You stared at the building, mapping every entrance, camera angle, and weak point in the architecture, every reflective surface that could expose movement behind you. Hydra had taught you to notice those things before anything else, and SHIELD had simply sharpened the instinct into something permanent.
The automatic doors slid open with a quiet mechanical sound, warm light spilling into the cold evening air. Inside, the compound was almost painfully clean, polished floors reflecting soft overhead lighting, the faint scent of coffee and expensive disinfectant lingering somewhere in the background. Everything looked too open, a building adapted to be lived in, instead of worked at.
That alone made you distrust it slightly.
“Hey.”
You looked up immediately at the voice.
Wanda Maximoff stood near the reception area with her arms loosely folded over a dark burgundy sweater, the sleeves slightly too long and covering part of her hands. Beside her stood Bucky Barnes, taller, broader, dressed in a dark shirt and gray sweatpants that looked worn in. His metal arm reflected dim silver beneath the lights when he shifted slightly.
Neither of them looked entirely relaxed.
“We’re Wanda and Bucky” Wanda said gently after a small pause, offering a slight smile that didn’t fully reach her eyes yet. “The weather’s awful tonight.”
You nodded once.
Bucky’s gaze lingered on you a little longer than Wanda’s did. Not necessarily rude. Like he was trying to place something he couldn’t fully remember yet.
“Fury said you’d already worked missions before,” he finally said, voice rough from disuse more than aggression. “Just not with a team.”
“Yes.”
Your answer was short enough that silence followed it for a moment.
“I usually work solo,” yousay after some time.
“Well,” Wanda said, pushing herself away from the counter lightly, “we’ll show you around before dinner. Most people are still busy downstairs or in meetings.”
You followed them through the compound without speaking much, your footsteps quieter than theirs. Wanda kept attempting conversation every few minutes in a careful, patient way, asking if the drive had been long, whether you needed anything for your room, whether Fury had at least warned you how chaotic the compound could get.
You answered briefly but politely, just enough to avoid being rude without offering anything meaningful.
The hallways grew more residential the deeper inside the compound you went. There was softer lighting, less steel, hoodies abandoned over couches, empty mugs sitting outside doors, a pair of arrows stuck into a wall corner with a handwritten sticky note beneath them reading Clint stop practicing indoors.
Wanda noticed your eyes lingering there. “That was actually Kate,” she admitted quietly with the slightest smile. “But Clint encouraged it.”. You hummed once in acknowledgment.
Bucky, who had stayed mostly silent the entire walk, suddenly glanced sideways toward you. “You’ve been to Hydra facilities in Siberia before.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but he definitely expected an answer. Your gaze shifted to him carefully. “Yes.”
“You remember them pretty well?” He asked. “Yes.” Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other. Wanda’s eyes moved subtly between both of you now.
Bucky rubbed his thumb absentmindedly against the fingers of his metal hand before speaking slower this time. “I think I saw you there once.”
You looked ahead again instead of at him. “Probably.” Bucky didn’t push further after that.
By the time they brought you to your room, the rain outside had become heavier, droplets streaking down the enormous windows lining the corridor beside the living quarters. Your room itself was larger than expected. Minimalist but warm in a way SHIELD accommodations never were. Dark wooden floors, a queen-sized bed with neatly folded gray blankets, a desk positioned beside the window, a private bathroom. Small details meant for comfort rather than efficiency.
Someone had even placed a plant near the bookshelf. You stared at it for a moment.
“We usually eat around seven,” Wanda explained while lingering near the doorway. “Kitchen downstairs, on floor 3, you can ask Jarvis for the way,” “If you need anything,” Bucky added after a short hesitation, “just ask.”
You set your duffel bag down beside the bed. “I’ll be there.”
Wanda nodded softly, giving you one last small smile before stepping back into the hallway. Bucky followed after her, just before leaving completely, he glanced back once more, brows pulling together slightly like the memory still bothered him.Then the door closed.
The silence afterward felt immediate.
You crouched beside your bags and unzipped them methodically, removing clothes folded with precision, weapons immediately locked away inside the biometric drawer Fury had apparently already approved for your room, toiletries arranged within minutes. There wasn’t much.
At exactly seven o’clock, you walked into the dining area.
The long dining table was crowded enough that for a split second it almost looked like chaos rather than a team. Tony Stark sat slouched sideways in his chair with a coffee mug in one hand despite the late hour, speaking over nearly everybody while Sam Wilson argued back without sounding genuinely annoyed. Thor laughed loudly at something nobody else seemed to find equally funny, one massive hand nearly knocking over a glass beside him. Peter Parker was speaking too quickly about something science-related to Bruce Banner, who looked simultaneously interested and overwhelmed.
The room quieted slightly when they noticed you.
“Ah,” Tony said first, leaning back farther in his chair while looking you over openly. “There is our new member. Fury’s little favourite. Took you long enough”
“Tony,” Steve warned immediately.
Steve Rogers stood up halfway from his seat instead, expression much warmer than the others’. “Ignore him. Welcome to the compound.”
You nodded once toward him.
“Thank you.”
Natasha Romanoff sat farther down the table beside Yelena Belova, one elbow resting against the table while she watched you silently. Unlike the others, she didn’t immediately speak, nor did she smile. Her expression remained unreadable in a way that instantly reminded you of trained operatives rather than superheroes.
Yelena, meanwhile, looked openly curious. “So,” she said while pointing her fork vaguely in your direction, “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“Yelena,” Natasha muttered without looking away from you.
“What? It’s true.”
You sat in the only empty chair available.
Dinner continued around you after that, conversation flowing naturally between everyone else while they occasionally attempted to include you in it. Kate asked whether you preferred swords or guns before immediately rambling into a story about trick arrows. Peter tried asking what kind of missions you specialized in before apologizing halfway through because apparently the question sounded invasive once he said it out loud. Thor offered you another serving of food three separate times.
You answered when necessary, distant enough that eventually the conversations continued without you again.
Only Natasha kept occasionally looking at you.Not always, but enough that every time your eyes accidentally lifted from your plate, you found her already watching. Like she was trying to figure you out completely just by looking.
By the end of dinner, the others had relaxed into movie discussions and mission stories while you quietly stood from the table, placing your untouched glass beside your plate.
“I’m going to my room.” You said standing up. Steve looked up first. “You sure? We usually hang around downstairs for a while.”
“Yes.” You left while conversation slowly resumed behind you, though quieter now, several people subtly watching you disappear down the hallway.
The moment you were fully gone, Yelena leaned back dramatically in her chair.
“She seems bored to sit with us”
“She’s shy,” Wanda corrected softly.
“No,” Tony replied immediately. “She definitely did not want to be here. She wasn’t nervous at all”
The compound became quieter after midnight in a way that almost didn’t seem possible considering how loud it usually was during the day. The endless movement through hallways stopped first, then the distant conversations disappeared one by one behind closed doors, until eventually only the low mechanical hum of ventilation systems and the faint buzzing of electronics remained. Outside, the rain had finally stopped somewhere around one in the morning, leaving the enormous windows dark and slick with water streaks that reflected pieces of the compound lights back into the corridors.
You still weren’t asleep, which wasn’t unusual.
Sleep had always felt more like a necessary bodily function than rest. Hydra had made sure of that long before SHIELD ever got their hands on your file. Even now, years later, your body never fully relaxed enough for real exhaustion to overtake awareness completely. Every sound remained noticeable, every shift in air pressure, every footstep somewhere down another hallway.
By 2:30am, you had given up pretending otherwise.
You changed silently into training clothes, dark gray compression fabric hugging tightly enough to avoid restricting movement, black wraps secured around your hands with efficient familiarity. The compound lighting was dimmed this late, turning the hallways colder somehow, the polished floors reflecting pale strips of artificial light beneath your boots as you walked toward the lower training levels.
Far above the training floor, Natasha Romanoff stood barefoot in her room with one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee she wasn’t really drinking. She had changed out of her training clothes hours ago, now wearing loose black sweatpants and a dark tank top beneath an unzipped hoodie, though the exhaustion visible beneath her eyes suggested she hadn’t rested at all either.
Insomnia wasn’t rare for her, the sound of footsteps outside her room wasn’t rare either, but unfamiliar footsteps were.
She noticed yours immediately, they were measured, quiet and controlled enough that most people probably wouldn’t even hear them.
She waited until the footsteps faded to open her door, just as another door farther down opened too.
Bucky stepped out first, one hand dragging tiredly over his face before he noticed her standing there. “You hear that?” Natasha nodded. “New girl?” “Probably.”
Neither of them sounded particularly alarmed, but caution still settled naturally between them anyway. Fury trusting someone blindly usually worried Natasha more than reassured her. Without another word, they both moved down the hallway.
The training room lights were already on by the time they reached the observation level above it. Below them, you were moving so fast that for a moment neither of them spoke at all.
The heavy punching bag hanging from the center rig swung violently every time your fists connected with it, chains groaning overhead beneath the force. Your movements weren’t flashy. There was nothing performative about them. No unnecessary spinning or dramatic techniques. Everything was brutally efficient, sharp enough to look almost mechanical sometimes. Punches landing hard enough to split knuckles through wraps. Elbows. Knees. Fast pivots across the mat. Recovery positions immediately reset before most people would even finish reacting.
Sweat darkened the fabric clinging to your spine, damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead while your breathing remained controlled despite the intensity.
Natasha leaned slightly closer to the glass. “She does this every night?” Bucky’s jaw tightened faintly while watching you below. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“She was younger when I saw her,” he continued after several seconds, eyes never fully leaving you. “Hydra used to move people around constantly, different facilities, different handlers, but I remember her face vaguely.”
Natasha stayed quiet because Bucky rarely spoke about Hydra voluntarily. “She was good even back then,” he muttered finally. “Too good for a kid.” Natasha hummed, knowing what that was like.
Below them, your fist connected with the bag hard enough to split the outer seam slightly.
For a while they just watched.
You trained for another hour without slowing much, until eventually your movements started losing precision from physical exhaustion rather than lack of discipline. Only then did you finally stop, chest rising heavier now while sweat rolled slowly down your throat and disappeared beneath your shirt collar.
Natasha should’ve gone back upstairs twenty minutes ago. Instead, she stayed leaning against the observation window, arms folded loosely while she watched you slow your breathing again.
Most people trained more for the performance, to show others what they can do, to boost their ego a little. You didn’t do any of those things.
Everything about you felt controlled so tightly it looked exhausting. Natasha understood that a little too well.
The next morning at breakfast, nobody mentioned seeing you downstairs.
The pattern repeated, again and again.
Some nights Natasha heard your door open at two in the morning. Other nights closer to four. Sometimes she’d catch glimpses of you returning upstairs exhausted enough that your shoulders finally slumped slightly beneath the weight of fatigue, though never enough to actually look vulnerable.
Within a week, she realized you barely slept more than a few hours total.
One night, after another failed attempt at sleeping herself, Natasha finally shoved her blankets aside with visible irritation and headed downstairs.
You were already there.
The training room lights cast pale reflections across the floor while music played quietly through overhead speakers, low enough to blend into the sound of your breathing and movement.
You noticed Natasha entering immediately, your movements stopped immediately.
Natasha crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “Could hear you halfway down the corridor.” You reached for a towel beside the bench. “Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.” She said, and you wiped sweat from your jaw slowly. “I’m not.”
Something almost amused flickered briefly across Natasha’s face before disappearing again.Then she walked farther into the room. “Fight me.”
You looked at her properly for the first time since she entered.“No.” One eyebrow lifted instantly. “No?” “I’m training.” You said.
“So am I.”
You tossed the towel back onto the bench harder than necessary. “You’ll will, you’re better than me.”
Natasha actually laughed quietly at that, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I saw you train, you’re good.” “I’m not.”
“Well let’s find out.”
Natasha noticed immediately that you still weren’t fully agreeing. Your posture remained controlled, cautious in a way that almost looked reluctant rather than defensive.
The fight started light.
Testing movements first, small exchanges. Natasha immediately realized how skilled you actually were the moment your forearm redirected one of her strikes before she could fully commit to it. Fast, technical, precise enough that she had to genuinely focus.
But something was wrong, you were holding back, and not for any strategic reasons
Every strike redirected away at the last second. Every opening you created was abandoned before impact landed. Natasha swept your legs once and pinned you briefly against the mat before you escaped almost immediately, but even then she could feel hesitation in your movements.
“You do this with everyone?” she snapped after blocking another softened hit. You stepped backward again. “Do what?” “Fight like you’re scared of touching me.” Your jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not.”
“Bullshit.”
Natasha lunged again this time harder, driving enough force behind her movements that you finally had to properly defend yourself instead of avoiding contact entirely. She pinned you once more, this time harsher, your shoulder blades hitting the mat hard enough to echo faintly through the room.
Still you held back. You kept redirecting and refused to fully hit her.
And now Natasha was genuinely getting angry, it felt pretty insulting if she had to be honest.
Because she had spent years proving herself against people who underestimated her physically. But you clearly respected her skill enough to defend seriously but not enough to attack seriously.
“Fight me properly,” she hissed after shoving herself back upright. “I am.” You hissed back. “No, you’re not.”
You said nothing.
Natasha stared at you for several seconds, chest rising faster now from exertion and frustration both. Then suddenly she stepped back entirely, wiping sweat angrily from her forehead.
“Forget it.” You frowned slightly. “Romanoff” “No.” Her voice cut sharper this time. “Whatever your problem is, figure it out yourself.”
Then she left.
The door slammed harder than necessary behind her. You stood motionless in the center of the training mat long after she disappeared upstairs.
Dinner the following evening felt different immediately, the others probably wouldn’t have noticed. But Natasha barely looked at you.
She sat across the table tonight instead of beside Clint, one hand lazily spinning a fork between her fingers while Steve discussed mission schedules beside her. Every few minutes her gaze flicked toward you again, narrowed slightly like she was trying to peel apart layers you refused to explain.
You ignored it for almost fifteen minutes. Then finally your eyes lifted toward hers. “What?” The conversations around the table quieted slightly. Natasha leaned back in her chair slowly. “You tell me.”
Tony looked between both of you immediately. “Oh good, dinner was getting boring.” “Tony,” Steve sighed. “No, no, let me enjoy this.”
You looked back down at your plate instead of answering. That somehow annoyed Natasha even more.
After dinner she went directly to Fury’s office at SHIELD. The argument started barely two minutes after she entered.
“You sent someone unstable into the compound without telling us her history,” Natasha said sharply while Fury remained seated behind his desk looking significantly less concerned than she expected.
“She’s stable.” He said dismissively.
“She barely sleeps.” Natasha snapped back. “So do you.” he responded “That’s not the point.”
Fury leaned back slightly. “You questioning my judgment, Romanoff?”
“I’m questioning why she acts like hurting someone would kill her.”
For the first time, Fury’s expression shifted slightly. Maybe a little surprised because it was a little unusual but still understandable.
“You know what her file says about collateral damage during missions?” he asked instead.Natasha crossed her arms tighter. “Zero,” Fury continued. “Five years active under SHIELD. Hundreds of operations. Zero unnecessary casualties, zero civilian injuries, zero friendly fire incidents.”
“That doesn’t explain-” “It explains enough.” Fury’s voice hardened now and Natasha stayed quiet.
Fury looked back down toward paperwork already dismissing the conversation. “She’s not your problem to solve.” Natasha left unconvinced anyway.
Natasha hated that sentence more than she should have. Because Fury was right. You weren’t her responsibility. So why had she spent the entire week watching for your footsteps at night?
9 days later it was your first mission with the team.
Undercover infiltration with no firearms and minimal tech.
You, Natasha, Yelena, and Bucky entered separately through different access points before regrouping inside the facility itself, a heavily guarded intelligence broker operation hidden beneath a luxury corporate building in Los angeles.
The mission went smoothly at first. Then one of the guards recognized Bucky from the news.
By the time you and Natasha reached the eastern corridor leading toward the server room, Natasha already had blood running slowly down one side of her ribs beneath her tactical suit from an earlier fight.
“You’re hurt,” you muttered quietly while checking the hallway corner. “I noticed.”
Footsteps approached immediately afterward. You saw 3 guards approaching, 4 following those a bit further away.
The first one lunged toward Natasha directly. You intercepted him instantly, slamming him hard enough into the wall that unconsciousness hit before his body even fully collapsed. Another guard grabbed your shoulder from behind only for your elbow to connect with his throat seconds later.
But Natasha was slower now. She was injured and it was definitely noticeable. You noticed every imbalance in her footing immediately, every slight hesitation from pain.
So when another attacker moved toward her blindside, you reacted before she even saw him. Your arm hooked around his wrist before twisting sharply enough that the sound of the dislocation echoed through the corridor. Another hit followed immediately after, dropping him.
Natasha stared. You were less violent from earlier, more careful.
Constantly repositioning yourself between threats and her injured side. Taking hits you could’ve avoided if it meant redirecting force away from her body. It unsettled Natasha slightly, how automatic it seemed for you to shield other people before yourself .Like your body made the decision before your brain even caught up.
And so she thought she understood, that maybe you weren’t underestimating her. Maybe you just didn’t want to hurt people that weren’t a threat.
The realization hit Natasha so hard she nearly missed another incoming strike herself.
After the mission, she stopped looking at you with suspicion, she trusted you more and respected you for that.
A week later, Natasha walked into the training room expecting a quiet session before breakfast.
Instead she froze near the doorway.
You and Steve were sparring violently. Not reckless but enough to leave some bruises for sure.
Your fist collided with Steve’s jaw hard enough to snap his head sideways before he countered with a shove that nearly launched you halfway across the mat. You recovered instantly, ducking beneath another strike before landing two more hits directly into his ribs.
There was no hesitation or restraint visible in your movements.
Natasha’s expression darkened immediately.
Steve noticed her first. “Morning.” You turned too late, natasha was already coldly staring directly at you.
“You hit him.” She snaps.
You frowned slightly, still breathing hard from the fight. “Yes? That’s kind of the point”
“You don’t hold back with Rogers.” She said, stepping forward, Steve wisely stepped backward. “Oh,” he muttered quietly, “I should probably-” “Yes,” Natasha interrupted sharply. “You should.” Steve left immediately.
The second the door shut, Natasha stepped closer. “So what? You think I can’t handle it?” You blinked once “What?”. “You refuse to fight me properly for weeks but apparently Rogers gets your full effort?”
“He has super soldier serum.” You explained, clearly getting uncomfortable. “And I’m Natasha Romanoff.” Your jaw tightened instantly. “I know who you are.” You replied. “Then why treat me like I’m fragile?” “I don’t.” You said too fast. “You absolutely do.”
The irritation building beneath your skin finally snapped slightly. “Why are you so obsessed with this?”
“Because I hate people underestimating me.” She said angrily, to which you quickly replied “I wasn’t underestimating you.” But she wasn’t backing down. “Then explain it.” You looked away.
“You are unbelievable,” she scoffed.
Something sharp flashed across your expression: anger or embarrassment, maybe both if you looked closely enough. “Fine,” you muttered finally, stepping back onto the mat fully. “You want a real fight? Stop complaining afterward.”
Natasha smirked immediately. “Took you long enough”
This fight felt entirely different from the first second. None of your strikes were soft and held back like before.
Natasha barely blocked your kick in time before retaliating instantly, both of you moving across the mat with enough force now that the impact sounds echoed through the room. Punches landed, legs swept, and breathing turned harsher faster.
Natasha realized almost immediately this had been a mistake. Not because you weren’t good, but bow she had to focus on you properly.
Your hair was damp already, breathing uneven from the fight, irritation sharpening every movement you made across the mat.
Natasha blocked another strike barely in time and hated how distracting she suddenly found you.
Then Natasha pinned you hard enough that both of you lost balance slightly on impact.
Your back hit the mat while she held your wrists above your head, both of you breathing heavily now, sweat dampening loose strands of red hair around her face.
Your eyes flickered downward briefly. Natasha followed the movement automatically and suddenly became very aware of how soaked her shirt had become.
The realization spread across your face immediately afterward.Natasha felt warmth creep up her own neck before she could stop it.
Your eyes flickered downward once more. Your cheeks are turning a light shade of pink while you try to avoid eye contact.
Natasha stared at you for a full second before suddenly smirking. “Well,” she murmured softly, still pinning you beneath her. “That explains a lot.”
Your expression turned horrified instantly. Natasha laughed quietly under her breath before finally pushing herself upright. You sat up immediately afterward looking deeply annoyed with both yourself and her. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched like she was trying very hard not to look pleased with herself.
The next few days were somehow worse. Natasha kept making fun of you nonstop, and your frustration slowly grew.
Movie night started in the common room, and you already regretted coming. Not because of the movie. You barely even registered what was playing on the massive screen across the room.
But because Natasha had somehow ended up sitting beside you again, stretched lazily into the corner of the couch like she belonged there, one arm resting along the back cushion behind you.
At first it was manageable, but then she started: little comments spoken quietly enough that only you could hear them, her knee brushing yours every few minutes like it happened accidentally, smirking every single time you looked at her for longer than half a second.
It was getting irritating now, it wasn’t cut nor were you getting flustered or whatever. It was just annoying.
Because in your mind, there was absolutely no reason for her to keep doing this unless she was just entertaining herself at your expense. And you were starting to feel stupid for reacting to it.
Natasha honestly hadn’t meant to keep pushing.But every time you reacted, shoulders tightening slightly whenever she leaned closer, eyes flickering away too late, she kept doing it again anyway. Maybe because getting reactions out of you had become strangely addictive..
Mostly because you actually reacted to her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her like that without wanting something from her.
She leaned slightly closer during some loud scene in the movie. “You’re tense again.” You stared forward at the screen. You exhaled sharply through your nose. Beside you, she shifted again, shoulder brushing yours this time. “You know,” she murmured, “you blush every time I touch you.”
That was it.
You turned toward her so suddenly she actually looked surprised for the first time all evening. “What exactly is your problem?” you snapped quietly. Natasha blinked once “What?”. “You keep doing this.” “Doing what?” “This.” You gestured vaguely between you both, visibly frustrated now. “The flirting or teasing or whatever this is supposed to be.”
Natasha’s brows pulled together slightly now.
“You figured out I got distracted during sparring and suddenly you won’t leave me alone about it.” Your voice stayed low, but irritation was bleeding through every word now. “Yes, I looked at your chest. Congratulations. Can we move on?”
From the other couch, Clint slowly lowered his popcorn bowl.
Natasha stared at you. Yous stood up, ready to leave and kept going before she could answer. “If you’re not actually interested then stop doing this constantly because it’s getting really childish.”
Now the room had gone almost completely silent. Even Thor stopped talking.
Natasha looked genuinely caught off guard now, more confused than offended. “You think I’m making fun of you?” You crossed your arms tightly. “What else would this be?” For a second Natasha just looked at you.
Then suddenly she laughed once in disbelief, dragging a hand over her face. “Oh my god.”
“That’s not helping.” You said, staring at her confused.
“No, hold on,” Natasha said, still looking stunned. “You seriously think I’ve been flirting with you for days as a joke?”
“You literally smirk every time I speak.”
“Wait,” she said, the teasing in her expression faded. “You actually thought I was making fun of you?” You looked away immediately, before responding “What else was I supposed to think?”.
Natasha stared at you for another second before laughing softly under her breath. “God, you’re impossible.” And then quieter she added “I’m flirting with you because I like you.”
The silence afterward was loud.
Tony looked delighted. Yelena whispered something in Russian that sounded aggressively smug.
Your expression shifted slowly from irritation into something far more horrified. Natasha was still staring at you like she couldn’t believe this misunderstanding had somehow happened.
“You are unbelievably bad at this,” she muttered. “I thought you were messing with me.” Y/n responded
Natasha dragged a hand over her face again, still looking vaguely horrified with herself now. “I cannot believe my flirting is apparently this bad.”
“That’s worse.” You responded and Natasha laughed again, quieter this time, before leaning back into the couch cushions. “Come sit down before you make this more painful for both of us.”
You stood there for another second before reluctantly sitting back down beside her.
Immediately, Natasha reached over and took your hand. This time she didn’t tease you about reacting to it. She just held it tightly.
From across the room, Tony sighed heavily. “Thank god. That was painful to watch.”
word count: 2.4k
warnings: none
A/n: I LOVE THIS SO MUCH, from my wattpad
written: Nov 21, 2024
* . °•★|•°∵ Cold water ∵°•|☆•° . *
"Even cold water seems warm when your hands are freezing,"
Y/N'S POV
I look straight ahead of me, hands still trembling from the fight I had earlier with my boyfriend. Everyone always said our relationship wasn't healthy, I responded that I was happy and that that was all that mattered.
And I was happy, I think. That was just the way our relationship worked. He is the man after all.
I looked to my right and saw his sleeping figure taking up all the space in bed. I sighed and stepped out of it.
A shiver ran down my spine as the cold air hit my uncovered body. I quickly began putting on my clothes and left without a word.
You're probably thinking I should say I'm leaving, right? Well no, that was mainly the reason for our fight yesterday night. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to stay for the night, but he still wanted to have sex. So we fought but he was right, so I had to leave now. I took a glance at my phone to see that it was already 3 am.
-
I arrived at the compound, my whole body felt freezing cold as it was raining pretty harshly. I took off my shoes and walked quietly to the kitchen to get some food.
I wasn't paying attention to what was happening around me, so I jumped when I felt a slight tick on my shoulder.
"Shit Nat," I mumble when I look up at her. She looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Why are you coming home so late?" She asked me.
"I wasn't supposed to stay the night, it just became a bit later than I anticipated," I chuckled.
"Couldn't you just stay there? It's 4 in the morning, so many things can happen when you are a woman alone in a taxi," She questioned while raising an eyebrow.
"No, but he's right, so it doesn't matter," I simply shrugged. She let out a sigh making me frown.
"What now?" I ask annoyed. If she's judging me she can at least say it to my face.
"Does he even care about you? Like, at all? Because he treats you like a fucking piece of shit! Every time you come back, you are tired as hell, sometimes bruised, and never happy! Do you think I don't see all that? It's obvious to anyone from a mile away. He's just using you!" Natasha exclaimed angrily. I stared at her in anger and was also shocked at the sudden outburst.
Natasha's opinions about him were most of the time negative but never as such.
"How dare you even say anything like that to me nat! You're my friend. Stop being fucking jealous because I have someone to care for me, while you haven't had any relationship since I fucking know you," The words left my mouth like venom, without thinking. I know she was trying to care for me, but I had had the urge to defend myself.
"At least I have standards and don't lower them to some abusive guy because I can't handle being single for a minute in my life!" She shouted before leaving the kitchen and going to her room.
Too tired to even care anymore I went up to my room to get some rest.
NATASHA'S POV
I regretted shouting at her the moment I woke up.
Of course, her boyfriend is using her, everyone (but her) can see that. But I can't ruin my friendship with her.
I had had a crush on her long before she even stepped into the Avengers, I had seen her around at SHIELD.
Back at the time she was dating someone else, even more abusive than her current boyfriend. I don't think she will ever know the real reason he left her (I came to his home with a knife and gun and threatened to end him).
And I get her, her boyfriend now is 10 times better than the previous one, but, nearly everyone could do 100 times better than both of them.
I changed clothes and went downstairs, hoping to be forgiven by her. But when I entered she left immediately. She didn't even spare me a glance.
I shook my head and decided to give her some time to come round. I sat next to Wanda who gave me a confused look.
Of course, Wanda knew about my crush, my thoughts had been way too loud one evening.
"Oh Natasha, by the way, there is an event we have to attend tonight, take a plus one,… if you have anyone," He said with cornflakes still in his mouth, to which i nodded.
He was right, I had never taken anyone as my plus one, hoping Y/n would be my first one. But it seemed that that wasn't going to happen. Maybe it was time to move on.
I left the dining table and grabbed my phone. As I sat on the couch I downloaded a dating app, hoping to find a date for this evening.
It was quite tricky to find someone interesting, and that was available. So Wanda came to help me.
I never said I was queer to anyone on the team, nor did I ever mention being straight.
A few girls were cute, but one stood out the most. She said she was free to go on a date tonight, and that she looked forward to it. I tried being excited, but Y/n was clouding my mind a bit too much.
I picked up my date from her home address, which was a 30-minute ride. She was very talkative so there were no silences that would have been needed to get filled.
she had confessed to being a bit nervous because of me being an Avenger, and meeting the other Avengers but said she just wanted to get to know the real me, not the hero facade.
I had seen Y/n standing next to her boyfriend the whole evening, not leaving his side once. She hadn't even said a word to him, while he was too occupied with his friends to notice that.
I turned my attention back to Elle, my date. "So do you have any family?" She asked. At the beginning of the evening, I wouldn't have answered the question, but after a few beverages and feeling comfortable around her, I didn't care as much anymore.
"I do, I have a sister. But we aren't in contact anymore," I said, 'What about you?"
"I do too, she is here at this party actually. But I see that she's with her boyfriend now, and I don't want to get involved with any of her boyfriends. Too much drama the previous time. And I got completely shut out of her life while I was trying to help her. I don't blame her though, he was manipulative as hell,"
I looked at her, then looked at Y/n. Suddenly the two stories connected and I saw the resemblances in their faces. "What's her name?" I asked. "Y/n," She answered before continuing, "You know her?".
And that's why I thought this girl was cute, she looked like Y/n. I quickly ordered a new glass of vodka and drowned it immediately.
"Her current boyfriend is better than the previous one," I say staring blankly at her. She tilted her head to the side, just like Y/n always does when she doesn't understand something.
"But I could be a better boyfriend than him," I say looking back at Y/n, who stood there, looking at the ground, right next to him.
"Do you like my sister?" The girl said out of the blue. I nodded my head, not wanting to lie to her. "I'm sorry, I was moving on from her, but realizing you're her sister is a bit complicated," I tell her honestly.
"Honestly that's fine. At least I know someone is looking over her," She said smiling sadly. "Please save her from him, she deserves better, she's sweet. But everyone always abuses her because of her kindness and pureness," Elle said looking me sincerely in the eyes.
We stayed in a comfortable silence, watching the crowd of people enjoy their night. My eye caught on to Y/n and Hunter, her boyfriend. They were talking for the first time this evening. He was very obviously pushing her to do something with the way he was moving his hands and body language. She was shaking her head but finally gave in. They stepped out of the room to the hallway.
I looked to my right and saw Elle staring at the door they had just left. "Go," She whispered.
"Tell Wanda to get you a taxi out of here, or ask to stay the night. She'll know who you are," I stood up and quickly left too. I saw them waiting on the elevator. Subtlely I stood next to them, acting as if I was going to bed.
"I'm really tired you know," She whispered to him, probably expecting I wouldn't hear.
"Don't be an asshole right now. I need you, and you're not going to be there for me?" He said loudly.
"Oh hell no!" I said angrily making them both turn to me.
"Get the fuck out of here," I said sternly. He stepped closer to me, practically touching me. "No," He said.
I didn't even care or feel any pity when I tased him. No one fucking plays with me or my friends.
I ordered security to escort him outside the compound and leave him there unconscious.
When I looked back to the place Y/n was standing, there was no one. I quickly made my way upstairs to check up on her.
I knocked on her door but to no avail. I sighed and went to my room instead, giving her some space.
As I opened my door I saw a figure lying in my bed, with a tear-stained face looking at me with puffy eyes.
"I'm sorry," was all she said between sobs. I sat down beside my bed and hugged her. "Please tell me you're breaking up with him," I said and she just looked at me again. I realized she was now finally considering it, so I pushed my luck a bit further. "I could be- find you someone much better. I promise you. Someone who will come pick you up, take you on a date, give you presents, give you all the love you deserve," I said.
"Okay," She whispered weakly. "Can you please sleep next to me nat?" She asked.
I hummed and put on my pajamas. I felt her eyes on me, but didn't care much about it. I lay next to her and closed my eyes.
"Why are you single? You're so great, and I know you have options open," She said making me open my eyes again in confusion.
"Didn't you literally see me have a date with your sister earlier?" I blurted out confused, I hadn't stopped receiving Tony's hand gestures that I was going to fuck the girl.
"You had a date with my what?" She asked upset, turning to me.
"I obviously didn't know she was your sister," I said. "You're gay," She then blurted out.
I looked at her unimpressed. She stayed still, waiting for my confirmation.
"I am part of the queer community," She nodded her head slowly.
"Are you straight?" I asked, now my turn to ask a question.
"Yes," she said, before continuing, "I have never thought about it, to be honest. I have always had boyfriends so I guess so,"
"How did you realize you were … queer?" She asked. "When I started asking those questions," I responded bluntly making her eyes go wide. "Jeez, I'm kidding. … I had never been pushed to find my teen lover or whatever, but then I saw this one girl at work. And she was mesmerizing, her boyfriend sucked though. But I knew then and there who I was and who I wanted to be with," I told her.
"How did it go with the girl?" She asked interested. "I'm not losing hope," I said making her smile.
"Anyways, I'm freaking tired," She said turning to the other side. "Goodnight Y/n," "Goodnight Nat,"
-
A few weeks flew by, and nothing about my crush changed, even though Y/n had changed quite a lot. She had taken it upon herself to be single for at least 3 months so she could learn to focus on herself and on what she needed.
I'm not going to lie, it hurt quite a lot, but waiting a few more weeks to tell her isn't much more than the years I waited already.
She came in smiling and sitting next to me. "Nat guess what?" She said excitedly. "What?" I asked. "This cute guy asked for my number when I was running," My face dropped immediately. She must have noticed as she stopped talking.
"What is it?" She asked confused. "I thought- Didn't you- You said you were going to wait a few months?" I asked defeated.
"Why are you acting like this?" She asked me, a bit confused.
"I could be so much better than all of them. I could give you thousands of flowers and every second of my free time. And I've been waiting forever to tell you. And now I was waiting till you were ready, and now you're telling me you've already found yourself someone new," I said, letting it all out. This crush was hurting me way more than I initially thought.
"Nat, I- I said no to him. And- I didn't know you felt this way," She said, and I just scoffed.
"You are going to have to ask me on a date first, and prove that you are a right and healthy fit for me. Plus you will have to wait 5 more weeks" She said with a smug smile on her face.
A sigh of relief escaped my mouth before I began laughing. "What? You said I needed someone who was the right fit!" She said giggling.
After those exact 5 weeks, it was safe to say that opening a door with 13 (Y/n's favorite number) bouquets of her favorite flowers, a box of jewelry that matched with a new suit she had bought a few days ago, and a handwritten note to ask her out, did indeed work as a date invitation.
