Summary: As a “double” agent, you’re used to keeping secrets. But when you start falling for Natasha Romanoff, a skilled and sharp assasin, the stakes get higher. And what happens when you also catch the eye of Wanda Maximoff, the elusive Sokovian witch? How much of the truth can stay hidden, how far can you go before everything unravels…and who’s really on your side?
Warnings: angst, blood, kidnapping, violence, female reader, bad decisions, betrayal, torture, smut
n.r masterlist | n.r one-shots masterlist | like sugar on my tongue series
summary: you’re a simple girl from new york. with two loving parents and a brother now off at college, life should feel steady—but instead, you’re drowning in debt. the weight of it all pushes you to the edge… until an unexpected encounter with natasha, an older woman you vaguely know through your mother—an acquaintance, a family friend of sorts—offers you something more than you ever imagined.
warnings: g!p natasha, older woman/younger woman dynamic, heavy smut, dom!natasha, sub!reader, angst, a bit of fluff, mentions of alcohol, dark romance-ish, and public sex.
note: this is just somewhat an introduction to this series, so i hope you like it! next part will have smut-who said that...
You were absolutely fucked.
Debt was curling its fingers around your throat, heavy and suffocating, and the worst part was you weren’t even sure when it had started piling up so high. Maybe it was the tuition you insisted on paying yourself because you didn’t want to burden your parents, maybe it was the small comforts you told yourself you deserved after long nights of writing, or maybe it was just the way you spent without thinking—an impulse, a rush, a moment of indulgence that always seemed harmless until the bill arrived. You weren’t one of those rich kids strolling through campus in designer coats and shiny shoes, you were the girl who came from a modest house in New York, raised by parents who loved you fiercely and taught you to be grateful for what you had. And yet somehow your room was stacked with bags and boxes of things you didn’t need, couldn’t sell, and refused to throw away. A hoarder, maybe, or just someone desperate for something she couldn’t name.
The numbers on your credit score glared back at you from the laptop screen, ugly and unforgiving, and you let out a groan that sounded more like defeat than frustration.
“Maybe you should try looking for a job,” Carmen’s voice broke through, her face framed by the grainy pixels of the call. She was lounging on her bed with the kind of ease that made you jealous. “I don’t know, maybe working as a barista or something? At least it’d be money.”
You dragged a hand over your face. “It could, but my parents won’t allow it.”
She gave you that look, the one that said she wasn’t buying it. “You don’t know that until you try.”
And she was right. Of course, she was right, but your mother—conservative, stubborn, convinced she knew what was best—had forbidden you from working until after college. You were only in your second year, two long years still ahead of you, and the thought of waiting while the debt grew like a shadow at your back made your stomach twist.
“I’ll talk to Dad,” you said finally, though the words didn’t carry much hope.
Carmen snorted, not unkindly but with that sharp edge of truth. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“Okay, can we at least try to be hopeful?” you say, rolling your eyes the way you always do when you want something to sound light even though the pit in your stomach is real and loud, “I’ll figure something out—maybe I can make money from my thesis, or sell a few pieces, or—”
Carmen cuts you off before you can finish, the kind of blunt you’ve come to expect from someone majoring in Finance and who lives in spreadsheets and emergency plans, “That’s not really enough.”
You know she’s right; you know it in the slow way the room seems to tilt when you think about the numbers. Carmen is ridiculously smart, the sort of person who hears a problem and immediately sees three solutions and the risks attached to each, and lately she’s been the one keeping your expenses from collapsing into chaos because she actually understands how money breathes. You haven’t been entirely honest with her, not about how bad it’s gotten, and you can feel the warmth of her patience cooling into something sharper.
“I wish I could help,” she says at last, pity threaded through the words in a way that stings more than it should. “How much do you owe the bank?”
You lower your voice, embarrassed, the number tasting small and huge at once. “A thousand dollars.”
She swears, the single expletive landing like a slap because of how unremarkable and how huge it sounds coming from her. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“I know, I know—sorry—” you start, hands fluttering for something to steady you.
Carmen exhales, a long, exasperated sound, and presses her palms to her forehead as if trying to massage sense back into the situation. “Holy shit, Y/n. How the hell are you going to pay for that?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, exasperation folding into the slump of your shoulders as you lean back in the chair and let it creak under the small weight of your worry, shaking your head like the motion could dislodge the problem, “I’ll figure it out.”
Carmen’s eyes narrow; there’s no patience left for gentle encouragement, only the blunt edge of someone who sees consequences clearly and refuses to coddle them. “You better,” she says, voice low and dangerous, “or else you’re fucked.”
“So, what do I owe this visit for?”
“Hello, Mrs. Romanoff—”
“Please,” she interrupts with the kind of smile that has always left you off-balance, “call me Natasha.” She ushers you inside, her hand brushing yours as she closes the door behind you, and already there’s something in the air that feels heavier, charged, like static before a storm. “We’ve known each other since you were just a baby, after all.”
You nod, but the movement feels mechanical, because your stomach is alive with flutters you haven’t felt in years. When you were a kid, you’d been hopelessly enamored with her—this woman who seemed too beautiful, too elegant, too untouchable to belong to the same ordinary world you lived in. She had always been a charmer, her voice warm, her presence commanding, and sometimes you’d wondered if she was flirting with your mother, though your mother always laughed it off, insisting they were just good friends. Your father adored her, too, and from what you knew Natasha had a wife—Wanda, though you weren’t sure if that was still true anymore.
“Would you like a glass of orange juice? I remember you liked that,” she murmurs, the softness of her voice a little too intimate, a little too knowing. “Unless… you’ve changed.” Her hand lingers at your lower back as she guides you further inside, the touch deceptively casual but enough to make your pulse quicken.
You haven’t, not really, and yet everything feels different now. Especially here, in her house—dark wood floors that gleam under the low light, shelves lined with heavy books and artifacts you can’t quite place, the air smelling faintly of leather, citrus, and something sharper, something like her. It’s beautiful in that dark academia way, elegant but shadowed, as though every corner hides some secret.
And standing here in it, with her hand still close, you realize how much you want to uncover them.
“Yes,” you stammer, your lips dry, your voice thinner than you’d like. “I’d… like that.”
Natasha’s smile tilts, a little bashful, her hair swept up into a loose bun that frames the sharp lines of her face. You turn, following where she leads, and your eyes catch on the photographs along the stairs—snapshots of years gone by, but none of them wedding pictures, none of them Natasha and Wanda. The absence stings louder than presence. Huh, you think, a strange mix of curiosity and relief blooming in your chest. I guess they did get divorced.
“W-Where’s Wanda?” The question slips out before you can stop it, even though you already suspect the answer.
The fridge door clicks shut, and Natasha leans back against it, her expression unreadable, shoulders lifting in the slightest shrug. “We got a divorce a few years ago.”
Your throat tightens. “I—I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t be.” Her tone is steady, almost casual, as if the words had lost all weight over time. “It was over long before then. I found out she’d been having an affair with Vision.” She says it like she’s reading from a grocery list, not speaking of betrayal, and for a moment you wonder if she’s truly as unaffected as she sounds.
“Come,” she gestures with a hand, gentle but firm, “sit at the bar.”
You obey quietly, sliding onto the stool as she sets a glass of orange juice in front of you before claiming the seat beside you. Too close. Close enough that her fragrance—citrus bright, woodsy and deep, with that lingering trace of rose—wraps around you like memory. It’s the same scent you remember from childhood, the one you’d never quite been able to name, but always associated with her. Even now it pulls at you, unsettling in its familiarity.
“Your message seemed a little urgent.” Natasha sets her phone on the counter, her green eyes finding yours with that sharp, unblinking focus that always made you feel both exposed and seen. “What’s wrong, doll? Did something happen?”
Your heart stumbles. Oh god. If she keeps calling me that—
“Y-You have a company, right?”
Natasha tilts her head, studying you, then nods slowly. “Yes. I do. Why?”
The words catch in your throat. You’re terrified to ask—to beg, really—whether she might consider hiring you as an intern, or if she could at least put your name forward to someone she knows. You know it’s a lot, especially after all this time, after the distance that had kept her visits to your family rare. But desperation has a way of stripping you bare, and in this moment you decide there’s nothing pathetic about wanting to survive.
“I was wondering if…” The words taper off, thin and trembling, your knees knocking beneath the counter as though they’re trying to flee without you. Anxiety coils through your stomach, the kind that gnaws, whispering what-ifs—what if she laughs, what if she thinks you’re nothing but a greedy girl trying to milk an old family friend, what if she sends you out the door and never looks back? You wince at the thought and clasp your hands together tightly, nails pressing crescents into your palms. Get it together. “If I could… maybe be your intern. I know a lot about writing, and I’d love to learn in your field. Or if you know someone who could—”
“Woah, woah, slow down, kotenok.” Natasha’s voice cuts in, warm yet commanding, her hand finding your back and smoothing over it in slow, steady strokes. She acts as though you’re on the verge of a breakdown, though you aren’t even close to hyperventilating. “What’s happening? Something must’ve happened.”
What’s happening? Oh, nothing major, just that you’ve spent too much money on things you don’t need, have been trying to shoulder tuition by yourself, and now you’re buried in debt so deep it’s choking you. Is that what you want to hear, Ms. Romanoff?
“You wouldn’t want to know,” you murmur instead, but she hushes you softly, her hand still lingering, fingers tracing comfort into your spine. When she turns her head, her hair slips neatly over her shoulder, and suddenly her freckles are there, close enough to count. God, she’s beautiful—you’re enchanted, like you’ve stepped into some spell you can’t crawl out of. And here you are, pathetic, begging her for work.
“Are you doing okay financially?”
You shake your head. She only nods, her expression calm, understanding.
“Okay,” she says, steady as ever. “What happened? You’re still at NYU, right?”
“I… I have plans to drop out—”
“Please don’t,” she interrupts, her tone firm, almost pleading. “You know your father would’ve wanted you there.”
“I know, but I’m in so much debt,” you confess, voice cracking as tears sting your eyes. You swipe them away with the back of your hand, embarrassed by how quickly they come. “It’s my fault, really. I’ve been paying for my tuition because my parents aren’t working right now. You know Mom.”
She nods again, no judgment in her face.
“And Dad—” your voice falters, “—well, his car workshop isn’t doing so great, and he’s been… sitting around. So it’s been me, paying tuition, paying for essentials. I’ve been ghost-writing papers for students, sometimes the pay is good, but lately it’s barely anything. And honestly?” You laugh weakly, bitter. “I’ve been buying so much shit I don’t need. Are you sure you really want to hear all this?”
But Natasha doesn’t flinch. Her jaw doesn’t tighten, her expression doesn’t falter. She only listens, steady and unshaken, her hand never leaving your back. For some reason, that steadiness makes it easier to breathe. You find solace in it, though a small voice inside still whispers that you must look pathetic to her, desperate and small.
“You don’t have to help,” you add quietly, forcing a thin smile, already trying to pull yourself away before she can reject you. “You wouldn’t want an intern like me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Natasha’s gaze held you and suddenly the room narrowed to the green of her eyes, a color you’d never noticed properly as a child because you’d only ever seen her across a dinner table or at some polite gathering, never this close, never looking at you like she was reading the inside of your skull, and now you understood — painfully, absurdly — why Wanda might have been tempted, though the idea felt ugly and impossible, because Natasha moved through the world like a private storm, beautiful and precise and terrible all at once.
Her other hand came to your wrist and the fingers closed around you with a pressure that was at once casual and claiming, gentle enough to be kind but hard enough to leave a heat under your skin, “How much,” she asked, voice low, the words drawn out so they could roll around between you.
“A… a thousand dollars,” you said, the number out of you before you could bury it, and she nodded, slow, as if weighing it against something you couldn’t see. “That’s a lot, doll,” she said, and there was no judgment in it, only a darkness that made your pulse ping in your throat.
You murmured an apology, words falling thin, and she let out a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a small rueful sigh, “You’re right, you shouldn’t have been buying things you don’t need,” her tone sharp enough to feel like a scolding, and then softer, softer still as she watched the shape of your mouth, as if pity and hunger and amusement were all curdling into one expression and you tasted it. Her thumb brushed your wrist in a motion that looked accidental, and you felt it sweep everything away at once — the debt, your plans, the small dignity you’d tried to keep.
“I’m glad you reached out,” she said, and the words landed like an invitation, then a warning, “but I can’t let you be my intern—it would be… dangerous.” The last word lingered in the air, velvet and edged, and you realized with a small, reckless thrill that she meant more than the job, that ‘dangerous’ could be a promise or a threat, and you did not know which you wanted more.
She holds your face like she’s learning the map of it, thumb and forefinger steady at your jaw while the rest of the kitchen blurs into background noise, the clock ticking and the hum of the fridge reduced to a distant tide. Her eyes are a private ocean — green and deep and hungry — and when she leans closer the air between you charges so quickly you could swear you can feel the electric filament of it.
“For I have something else in mind,” she says, voice low and silk-thin, and the words curl around you like smoke. They’re deliberate, measured, as if she’s been practicing how to say them so they land in the exact place she wants.
You would do anything. The thought arrives without ceremony, a foolish, urgent truth you can’t deny, and it sits in your throat warm and dangerous.
Natasha lets her fingers fall away and props her chin on one hand, watching you with an expression that’s part appraisal, part amusement, part something that makes your ribs clench. “You’re very beautiful,” she says, smiling like it’s a fact and a temptation at once. Her palm slides down to your knee with a casualness that is anything but casual, a single squeeze that leaves a little signature of heat where fabric separates skin from skin. “And I’ll be honest—I thought about kissing you the moment I saw you.”
Your breath stammers; the room leans in. For one dizzy second you are that small kid again, orbiting the grownups, desperate for one benevolent look, and then the child folds away because Natasha’s gaze is not maternal, not simple; it is possession with velvet edges.
She straightens and the practical voice returns, “But you can’t work for me,” she says, and there’s no explanation needed—she’s already drawn the line, clear and immovable on the surface: too complicated, too compromising. “It would be… dangerous, for both of us.”
You feel the lifeline of her offer—placement at a company she trusts, a name that opens doors, a stipend steady enough to keep the red numbers at bay—and you should be grateful, you know you should, but gratitude gets tangled with something darker because the air between you hasn’t returned to ordinary. Her hand is still against your knee, and the scent around her—citrus and wood and the faint ghost of rose—fills your lungs like permission.
She watches you with a slow, feline smile. “I can place you somewhere excellent,” she murmurs, “somewhere respectable, with people who will take your work seriously. You’ll get experience, and pay, and you won’t have to swallow that fear every morning.” The promise is precise, practical, the kind of help that could reroute a life, and you can feel panic easing in your chest because the future suddenly looks like something with edges again.
Then she leans in, and the whisper that follows has nothing to do with CVs or references. It’s a deliberate change in tone, a velvet hand over a blade. “But I’m not offering you an internship here,” she says, each syllable measured, “because I don’t want us mixed up in that way.” Her fingers find yours and curl around them, holding as if to steady you and as if to mark you, and you realize she could let go at any moment and you would still be glittering from the contact.
“What if I told you I could wipe it all away?” Natasha tilts her head, that small, impossible smile pulling at one corner of her mouth as if she’s tasting the idea before she gives it to you, and when she speaks the kitchen shutters itself to the sound of her voice—low, even, silk over steel. “I could pay off your debt, every red number on every screen, and I could pay your tuition so you don’t have to crawl through another semester with that weight on your back. I could buy you the things you want—the stupid, useless things you tell yourself you deserve—or the things you actually need. I could get you an apartment, proper and safe, somewhere you don’t wake up to bills and panic, and if you wanted… you could live with me.”
The offer hangs between you like a promise and a question at once, generous and dangerous, an incision that leaves you both relieved and raw.
Her smile darkens in a way that makes the back of your neck prickle. “I want something else,” she says, and the words slow down until they become a small danger you can taste. “I want you.” Her mouth curves, indulgent and hungry. “Not on my payroll, not in my office. With me. Close. Safe—in my house, in my life. I would take care of you. Pay your debts, pay your tuition, buy you the things you tell yourself you don’t deserve. I would make room so the world couldn’t reach you the way it does now.”
You know what she’s saying before she finishes, the phrase landing with a clarity that leaves no room for euphemism, no softening. She names it like a contract and a caress at once. “Would you be my sugar baby?” she asks, and there is nothing coy or half-hearted about it, the question deliberate, almost ceremonial, spoken as if she is placing an offering at your feet and watching to see whether you will take it.
The kitchen holds its breath. Her hand tightens around yours a fraction, a punctuation that feels both protective and owning. In that tiny pressure you understand the shape of the bargain: freedom from the numbers, an ease you have not known in months, and in exchange something intimate that will belong to her — time, presence, perhaps favors she will expect and expect in kind. The word sugar tastes oddly modern and mercantile on her lips, yet when she says it it becomes heavy with promise.
You can see the life she sketches without words: a tidy ledger that reads balanced, evenings that begin with coffee and end warm and muted, a name whispered in introductions that opens rooms, a small army of obligations she will shoulder for a price that is not written in dollars. The danger is visible now and bright; it is a coin that glitters and cuts at the same time, and you are, impossibly, already moving toward it.
“I want you to be my sugar baby.”
You swallowed hard when her lips pressed against the palm of your hand—a slow, deliberate kiss, claiming more than just skin. It felt like possession, like she was etching her name into the space between your ribs, and the absurd intimacy of it made your head spin. You wanted to recoil, to stand and leave and never let her see you tremble—because you weren’t that kind of girl, you told yourself—but the warmth of her mouth lingered, seeping into places that had nothing to do with flesh and everything to do with want.
The words stammered inside you—say no, leave, don’t let her in—but something older and darker coiled beneath, a hunger you couldn’t ignore. You told yourself maybe you could take what she offered, clear your debts, rebuild your life, and walk away when it was all over—but the thought of leaving felt like loss, like severing a vein you hadn’t realized you needed.
“N—Natasha, I don’t—” you began, the protest thin, brittle.
Her fingers tightened once on your knee, then eased—patient, certain, as if time bent to her will. “Your parents won’t have to know,” she cut in, her tone velvet, dangerous in its softness. “Think about it—you, having everything you want, without a worry. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“W-Why are you doing this?” The question left you small, unsteady, the thrill in your bones betraying you.
Her smile deepened, as she squeezed your knee again. “Because I long for someone like you.”
The truth of it struck like a blade wrapped in silk. Salvation braided with possession, safety tangled with surrender—freedom traded for closeness. Every alarm inside you should have been screaming, every instinct telling you to run—but it felt like gravity instead, heavy and inevitable.
You were absolutely fucked—and worse, you wanted it. You wanted her, all of her, and the thought of saying no hurt more than the danger of saying yes.
A Penny for your Love. (W. M. x N. R. x R.)
— Part two. (5.142 words)
| Tags & warnings — Popular!WandaNat x Looser!Reader.
University alternative universe, bet trope.
Loneliness, spiralling thoughts, self loathing, insecurities, mentions of cheating, betrayal, lies, heavy angst with no comfort, hinted depression and social anxiety, low self-esteem.
| A/N — I know some people have been waiting for a moment for me to write this part and, eventually, here we here. Hope it was worth the wait, and you will enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the first part <3
| MAIN MASTERLIST - REQUEST GUIDELINES.
part one. part two. part three.
When you woke up the next day, you were mortified by the memories of the previous night; you never went to parties, you never made a faux pas, so what had gotten into you ? There was the alcohol, of course, but there was also her — Natasha. She was the one who convinced you to come, but especially the one you had fallen for in recent months.
It was stupid — you were stupid. It was obvious that it couldn’t work between you, the woman being from a very different world to yours. She was… she was everything you were not but always dreamed to be; popular, intelligent, confident. In short, she was perfect.
And you couldn’t help thinking that what had happened the day before was not a reflection of a shared feeling, but rather the desire not to hurt yours — what if she had only kissed you out of pity ? What if she had said no but you had ignored the signs and had been so insistent that she felt obliged to accept ?
These questions remained unanswered, because, as frustrating as it was, you were unable to remember the events of the previous day and the details, drowned out by the many drinks you’d had, were escaping your grasp. Paradoxically, the only thing you could recall was the one you wished you had forgotten ; the moment your lips touched hers.
No details of that moment were lost on your mind, and from the softness of her lips to the tenderness of her gestures, you would be able to describe the scene with frightening precision. It played over, and over again, in your mind, and every attempt to take your thoughts off it brought you back inexorably to the hot redhead and your doubts ; how were you supposed to face her after what happened last night ? You were wondering if she would pretend that nothing had happened between you two ; did she regret it ?
You had never kissed anyone before — except, maybe, when you were a kid, but you were almost sure it does not count — so what if you had been such a terrible kisser that the woman was now hating you ? The absence of a message when you eventually turned your phone back on only accentuated this heavy feeling in your chest ; the fear that she hated you. Once again, you had ruined everything — well done, y/n.
And there was also Wanda.
She was the reason you had not made a move on the redhead in recent weeks, because as much as your heart was aching for it, you knew it would not be right. You had read many books when you were younger, and you certainly did not want to be like these heroines in your teenage romances, the ones who could not — refused — to make a choice. These stories ? They only ended in broken hearts and eyes full of tears.
But the thing is, making a choice was not as easy as it might seem. The two women had come into your life around the same time, and they had shaken up your certainties, leaving you with overwhelming feelings you did not know what to do with — could it be what people call “love” ? Or was it something else ?
Very quickly, you became attached to both women, and if your relationship was different with each of them, there were a few similarities. They both made your heart beat a little faster, your breathing quickening when they were getting close, your head spinning, and you were for sure unable to think whenever they called you “malysh”.
Natasha was firm and sarcastic, while Wanda was softer and nurturing, and yet you yearned for them both in a way you had never done for anyone else before — desperate. That was the right word to describe your situation ; you were desperate for every bit of attention they were willing to give you, sucking it up like a bloodthirsty vampire — or a neglected puppy.
And you felt ashamed of it, of the way you looked forward to every moment you could spend with them, of the way you would think again, and again, of these moments after dark, when you could not sleep. On those nights, you would imagine yourself snuggled up in their arms, you would imagine the sweet words they would whisper to you, their tender gestures, and only then you would eventually manage to close your eyes, lulled to sleep by these fantasies.
These women had the ability to make you feel loved, to make you feel seen, and you definitely wanted more — but what is even possible ? Although you had not undertaken anything serious for now, you could not help doubting ; were you playing with their feelings ? Guilt gnawed at your insides, the feeling that you were not being honest with them because you could not make a choice growing stronger every day.
But then, you thought of something worse ; what if you were the only one hoping for something to happen between you ? What if those gestures and words that you took for signs of their particular affection for you were really just a reflection of their kindness ? What if what you thought made you special never was meant to ?
You had thought about it, again and again, but above all, you had watched them. Always from a distance, always cautiously, but you could not keep your gaze from landing on them when you thought they could not see you. You had analyzed every gesture, every smile that had been shared with others, trying to answer the question that had been nagging at you : were you special, or had you only thought you were ?
Since that kiss with the redhead, you had not crossed paths with them, or rather, you had avoided them. A mixture of shame and embarrassment drove you away. It had always seemed easier to flee, to deny reality, than to face it. And yet, while Natasha was quite easy to avoid — because she had decided to give you some space — you could not say the same about Wanda who always seemed to find her way back to you. Even when you thought you had managed to avoid her, your paths would inevitably cross — as by magic.
“Earth to the moon, do you copy ?” A voice said, taking you out of your thoughts. It was Wanda who talked, the woman now waving her hand in front of your eyes, a — beautiful, bewitching — smile dancing on her lips.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” you mumbled, embarrassed, “what were you saying ?”
you immediately asked back, hoping she would not mind your moment of distraction.
Wanda had joined you a while ago. She had slipped in at the table you were studying at without a word, but you were not surprised ; it had been weeks since she had stopped waiting for an invitation. The woman knew that you were not expecting anyone, but also that you would never refuse her company — and yet, on that afternoon, you almost did.
But you swallowed the word that just formed on the tip of your lips before it could spill, realizing that you had no good excuse to justify your sudden refusal. You knew that the redhead would then ask questions you could not answer without sounding rude, or weird — or maybe both.
“Are you okay ?” She asked, and you thought about lying. Hurting the woman, or worrying her, was the last thing you wanted. Yet, it seemed to be too late for that because you could already see a slight frown forming on her face, one that she only wore when you said or did something she did not like.
Wanda had the ability to read in people’s eyes with disconcerting ease, and your ability to lie was definitely not high enough to fool her intuition. In a glance, simply by observing you for a moment, she could know everything you did not tell, hear every word you have not said.
A positive answer, a dismissive yes, aimed at avoiding the question, would then not be enough to get her off your back ; it would only increase the questions — and they would not stop until the truth has crossed the barrier of your lips.
But spilling your secrets — this secret — was not something you wanted. Some things were meant to be kept, to be buried with. You wanted to avoid the shame, to keep her from hating you the way you had hated yourself the last few days, and so you decided to lie only halfway, to add a little truth to your answer in the hope that this meagre piece of honesty would be enough to remove the crease that had settled between her eyebrows.
“Yeah, I’m just a little tired,” you mumbled, hoping she would not push the subject.
“Is it because of the party ?” she asked, and you froze for a moment, wondering if she knew. Fortunately, she does not seem to notice your hesitation, concentrating on her homework — or pretending to.
“How..., How do you know ?” you answered, avoiding the question you had just been asked. It was your turn to frown, your eyebrows bending under the weight of confusion.
“My girlfriend was there, and she told me she had seen you,” she confessed, and the news felt like an icy bucket — her girlfriend. The word felt like a stone falling into your stomach, the realization weighing heavy — you were never special, you never got a chance.
You do not really know why you felt so disappointed in that moment, because you had no reason to be. You were not engaged in a relationship with the redhead, and you had even kissed someone else a few days ago — then why does it ache ?
It was all the things you had imagined that were crumbling, all the hopes you had built up that were being dashed. Every word, every gesture, every look, had given hope to a part of you — the one that wished you could be good enough to be loved. In the space of a few weeks, you had felt more seen than you ever had before, and maybe you were being greedy, but it made you want more of it.
How foolish you were feeling now. These thoughts seemed futile, nothing more than a sweet dream you never could have reached, even in your sleep — you may never be good enough, never the chosen one.
Despite the words that your mind was whispering to you, you forced a smile on your lips, and hid the wavering tone of your voice with feigned excitement and interest. “Oh, really? I didn’t know that. Who’s she ?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts.
⊱ ⋆ ⊰
Natasha.
She had said Natasha, the same Natasha that you kissed at that party. That Natasha was her girlfriend, the girlfriend of the girl you were having a crush on — and you had kissed her, even though she was in a relationship. Not only had you ruined your chance with them — not that anything would ever have happened outside of your little fantasies — but you also had lost two friends who had been very dear to you over the last few months.
You had been stupid, so stupid — how could this happen ? How could you let this happen ? You had been so blinded by the crumbs of attention they had brought you that you had refused to see the truth, lulling yourself in your fantasies and hopes.
But you had never been the first choice, you never were. You were nothing more than a distraction, a one-night stand she would deny the next day when she would be on her knees in front of her girlfriend, the one she truly loves. It is for her forgiveness she will beg as she repeats that you meant nothing — nothing ? Nothing. Just a mistake she would never make again, something to be regretted and forgotten.
But you, you won’t forget.
The pain remains, reopening wounds you thought closed long ago, opening gaps into which the doubts you have tried to push away for so long rush, and soon, those voices whispering dark words are impossible to silence. They are like dozens of hands pulling you down into a dark place you had hoped you would never return to — but the void is never far away.
In the days that followed, you did not reply to their messages, and you avoided the library and the classes you shared with them, knowing that your paths would inevitably cross. But it worried Wanda, you could feel it in the message she sent you, the ones you did not reply to — what would you have said anyway ?
“Sorry, I kissed your girlfriend, and I loved it by the way. Can we still be friends even if I ruined your relationship ?” No, you definitely could not tell the woman such a thing, even less after witnessing the way her eyes lit up whenever her girlfriend’s name was mentioned. There was no word to describe how pure the love they had for each other was — or so you thought.
Your arrival had been enough to destroy it entirely, and completely. The moment your lips touched hers, you had taken something that was never meant to be yours. The guilt, the secret, was weighing on your shoulders, becoming heavier every day that went by, pushing you always further in these dark thoughts that clouded your spirit.
But there was nothing you could do, because the thing you had stolen could not be returned, and broken hearts were never repaired by excuses. And so, you decided to run away, because that is what you always do when things become too much, and because you did not want to be there when Wanda would eventually learn the truth. In that moment, you felt like a kid, hiding to not face the consequences of their own actions — but maybe, maybe if you closed your eyes, it would be as if nothing had ever happened.
You thought that you were a horrible person and, since no one was there to deny, you let yourself drown in that truth. The hours went by, then the days, and soon a week had passed since you last saw any of them, but you did not notice it. It was difficult to keep track of time when every day felt — was — the same, and it soon became a foreign concept, a memory of something that had been before but was not anymore.
Many thought that you were spending your days sleeping, but they were wrong. On the contrary, the realm of dreams has not welcomed you in days, and these sleepless nights, and days, were spent thinking about the things you had done. It kept you awake, but it also kept you there, in your room that you hadn’t had the energy to leave.
Or maybe you were just not courageous enough. Maybe the thing that kept you there, attached to your sheets, was not exhaustion but cowardice ; you were scared, so scared of crossing their paths that the mere thought of it was enough to bring on nausea. But there, that was some place they may never come in — there, it was safe.
The day of rest you allowed yourself soon became a week, and nothing in that time had been enough to make the thoughts, the feelings, go away. Every morning, you promised yourself it would be the last, but it never was, because you never felt better, not even slightly. If anything, you were now more exhausted than you were in the beginning.
But if you thought one more day spent in the quietness of your room could not hurt, because no one would notice, you were wrong. The women noticed your absence the first day, when Wanda had been expecting to study with you at the library but could not find you, and, by the third, they have been worried by the unusual silence. But it was not only your absence which was worrying, it was the way you had ignored their calls and messages, how no one seemed to know where you were.
That is how, that afternoon, you found the redhead — the one you had kissed — on your doorstep. The doorbell rang loudly in the empty house. It was your first contact with the outside world in several days, and it sounded like a sentence.
You did not think, not even for a moment, of leaving the comfort of your bed to answer the invitation, to go to meet the person waiting for you right outside of your house. Instead, you did what everyone does when an uninvited guest knocks on their door : you ignored them, pretending that the sound had been a figment of your imagination.
But she did not do what she was supposed to and, when she did not hear your footsteps in the stairs, when you did not scream that you were coming, she did not leave. Instead, she rang several times — six to be exact, you counted them — and each time more insistently than the last. Probably that was where laid the limits of her patience because you then heard the sound of a door being unlocked — your door.
But it was not this sound that frightened you, nor the one of unfamiliar footsteps in your living room ; it was the voice that echoed in the stairwell when they stopped that did — fuck, you thought. She had barely said a word, but it would be impossible for you to not recognize this voice in an instant — not when it was the one you’ve been trying to forget.
A few weeks ago, when she drove you home from the party, you made the mistake of telling her where you hid your spare keys — and you were now paying the price for it. As soon as you heard her voice, you rushed out of bed. You did not have time to change your clothes, but you quickly ran your hands over your face and hair to make yourself look less miserable — because, despite everything, you still cared, yearning for her attention and approval.
After a few seconds, the redhead saw you. You appeared at the top of the stairs, where you stopped, right before the first step. Your right hand was clinging to the railing with so much force that your knuckles were light but the woman couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or exhaustion.
“Leave,” you said — no, begged — because that low whisper was everything you had the energy to say. The things you had imagined yourself screaming at the woman for days now felt stupid, futile even, and, as she was standing there, you realized that you did not want to fight — not again, not now, not ever. You did not want to hurt her as much as she hurt you ; you just wanted her gone so the sight of her smile and the sound of her voice would stop reminding you how stupid you have been — once again — for believing, even for one second, that someone could look at you and see something lovable.
“No,” she said firmly, “listen, I didn’t want to disturb you, it is just.. we were worried, okay? I wanted to check up on you, to see if you were fine,” she softly added, every of her words being carefully chosen, as if you were a ticking bomb that could explode at any time — and maybe you were, your emotions bubbling inside of your body as you were desperately trying to keep them inside.
“As you can see, I am fine, so now you can leave,” your tone was bitter and your words were definitely not an invitation to stay, not even to talk, but somehow that is what the woman saw in them — a plea for her to stay.
Despite the facade you tried to put up, she could tell the lies, reading the truth in your eyes ; you were testing her, and if you were trying to get her to leave, it was not because you really wanted it, but because you were scared of what might happen if you let her in once again.
“Fine ?” She repeated after you, the words accompanied by a bitter laugh because you definitely did not look like someone that was fine, “have you even eaten? Slept? Saw anything other than the walls of your room in the past few days?” and the silence that followed has been louder than any answer you could have given to her. You may have not said yes by your words, but your body did, and she missed none of it, witnessing how you closed your lips, reducing them to a thin line, how you were now avoiding her gaze, probably in shame, and how you slouched your shoulders. For a minute, it was as if your world was crumbling, as if her pointing to reality made you realize the extent of your situation. “What happened ?” she asked, her voice being softer, less accusating.
“You know exactly what happened,” you snapped, and Natasha took back the step she had made forward a second ago, when she thought you were calming down. And maybe what hurt the most in that moment is the surprise on her face, the answer that came seconds too late — an expression and a few seconds that meant you were not important enough, not for her to realize that you were hurt by her actions.
“I am sorry,” she eventually whispered. The words were followed by another moment of silence, and it was the redhead’s turn to look away as she searched for her words. You have never seen her looking so vulnerable in the past, and for a moment, when you saw how lost she seemed, you wondered if you hadn't been too harsh — maybe she did not mean it, maybe she truly did not realize. The guilt that bloomed in your chest was hard to ignore, but she talked before you could say anything.
“I know you probably won’t believe me at the moment but, please, listen to me, okay? Because I promise we are gonna do everything we can until you forgive us,” she started, but this time there was not a pause, not even an ounce of hesitation in her voice, “it was a terrible idea, we’ve realized it, but I promise it does not change anything between us, and definitely not our feelings. The bet, that was just-” but you cut her before she could finish her sentence, not from anger but from surprise — or maybe from both.
“A.. bet ? What bet, Natasha ?” you asked, and she hated how your voice broke when you pronounced her name. “Natasha, what were you talking about ?” you asked again, more insistent this time, when she did not reply. Honestly, she was as surprised as you, because if it was not for the bet, why were you so upset ?
Natasha wished there was an easy way to tell you the truth, wished she could tell you that it was nothing, but from the look on your face she knew she could not brush it off that easily, and even though they had tried to push it away for as long as possible, they always knew that moment would eventually come.
“We made a bet,” she said bluntly, but that kind of thing was not exactly like ripping a bandage, and doing it quickly did nothing to ease the pain that was now gripping your heart. “We wanted to see which one of us would be able to make out with you first,” she admitted, answering the question before you could ask it. She said it quickly, as if the words were burning her tongue, and they may have done so, because they were laced with shame. And then it came, the explanation, the desperate attempt to justify herself — because you may have been scared to lose them, but they were too. “We know it was stupid, and childish, but we promise that-” and, once again, you cut her before she could say one more word because each time her lips moved felt like a stab in your heart — you are not sure it is possible, but you would swore that you could hear it shattering.
In that moment, the memories from the past months played in your mind. Every moment spent with them, every smile that has been shared, everything you had spent the past days grieving now felt like a lie, and it did not matter that she was about to promise you that it was not the case, that they meant everything they said, because they did not. And you felt stupid, stupid for thinking that two women like them could suddenly take an interest in someone like you — of course they wanted something. Of course they did not want to be your friend, let alone your lover, the voice in your head whispered, and you wondered how you did not realize it earlier, blinded by your fantasies.
Natasha tried to make a step in your direction, maybe — probably — to comfort you, but you immediately took one back, as if being too close to her could burn you. It takes a moment for the realization to settle in, and when it eventually does, your eyes are filled with a deep pain that the redhead knew she could not ease. And god, she hated to know that she was the cause for it when she yearned for nothing else than protecting you from everything.
“It does not change our feelings for you, I promise we’ve always been honest about that,” she softly said, but her attempt was unsuccessful because it was not true.
“Except it does change everything !” you yelled, because how couldn’t she see it ? That nothing would be the same anymore, that they broke the thing that you shared before it even had a chance to bloom. “Because you lied to me,” you whispered, as if the scream took all of your energy, leaving only enough for broken whispers, “for weeks I thought that.. god, I thought that you cheated on Wanda with me. I thought that I broke your stupidly cute couple because I thought that you meant it when you kissed me,” the confession hurt, because saying these words out loud make them real, and you did not want them to be. You needed to believe that what you shared with Natasha, what you had with Wanda, was true because that was probably the last thing keeping you sane — except it was too late. Once between your hands, knowledge could not be taken back.
“Get out. Now.” you said before she could, because there was no word she could pronounce that would have another effect than worsening your anger.
“Please,” she attempted anyway. It was a plea, but you were deaf to it, “let me-” and you knew what she was about to say, because it was always the same excuse — they never meant it, and you were supposed to forgive them because it was not their fault, not really. Except it was not yours either, and you were done pretending you were fine with all the shit people put you through, because that was not true ; it has never been fine.
“Let you what ? Explain ?” but the question was not really one, because you were not interested in listening to its possible answer, “I do not need more explanation, Natasha, nor to hear more excuses. My dad will be back soon, so get. Out.” this time your tone left no room for debate, and Natasha felt that, if she stayed, she would lose you, definitely this time.
So she left, without a last glance in your direction, without adding another word despite the burning desire to convince you to forgive them. Before she came, she promised Wanda she would make sure that you were fine, but now ? Now, she would have to admit to her that she worsened the situation, your situation.
None of them meant for things to turn this way. The bet has barely been on their mind, and they forgot about the game the moment they started to talk to you, because what they built with you was real, and genuine, and you sparked something in both of their hearts, filling a void they did not know was there — but it was not enough, not when the roots it was built on were rotten by their faults. And they realized, too late, that they ruined what you had before it even had a chance to grow onto something.
The moment the door closed, you let yourself down to the floor, but your knees hitting the tiles violently was not the thing hurting the most at that time. The tears never came, maybe you had used them all the past week, or maybe your heart was now so broken that it was unable to feel anything — but maybe it was better that way, things were easier when you do not care too much about them.
You had spent so many days and sleepless nights worrying about them, fearing that Wanda might learn the truth and how it would destroy her, knowing that what happened between the redhead and you has been your fault — mainly hers, but also yours for being stupid. How could you believe her when she promised you things you were never worthy of ?
But life has a cruel sense of humour and, in the end, you had been the only one hurt by the events — always a choice, but never the chosen one. The past week, as you let the guilt consume your soul, Natasha has probably spent every day with Wanda, and you easily imagined how they laughed at each other, kissing as if it meant the whole world — as if you did not exist, as if you were never more than a joke.
The mere thought of the scene made you want to vomit. It made you feel disgusted, to think that you have been toyed with. And, suddenly, you were questioning everything. Every smile, every word, every touch, but also every moment you shared with them — was there any truth in the thing you built, as she promised ?
That day, you realized how cruel the universe could be. It gave you a glimpse of the thing you have been yearning for you whole life, making you feel loved and appreciate for who you were, but only to rip it out of your hands brutally a short time after granted it to you, right when you started accepting the care, giving onto the love — but maybe there was a lesson to learn there, one you won’t forget soon.
| MAIN MASTERLIST - REQUEST GUIDELINES.
part one. part two. part three.
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pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!targ bastard!reader
description: y/n heritage was plain as day–she was a targaryen bastard forced to work in the brothels just to scrape by, so when the rightful queen of the seven kingdoms calls for her illegitimate kin to join her in dragonstone, it is nearly impossible to ignore.
warnings: hotd typical warnings, reader’s appearance slightly described (hair colour and its mentioned that she had lost weight due to malnutrition but that's it), slight smut like literally just the beginning, slight reference to rhaenyra as mommy but not really she’s just a mother with maternal instincts and im horny mbmb
words: 4.2K
date posted: 05/09/24
The lower streets of King’s Landing had quickly dwindled into a dangerous cesspool of violence, hatred, and poverty in the months following the death of King Viserys II. The line of succession had been a heavily debated topic across the nation ever since Queen Aemma lost her first boy, even among the common folk, and especially after the Hightowers usurped the throne in favour of Prince Aegon before Rhaenyra could even attempt to lay her claim.
In truth, Y/n felt no loyalty to either side of this war. She was, afterall, one of the many Targaryen offspring left to rot in the streets of Flea Bottom, and though she felt morally tied to Rhaenyra solely through her sex, she also knew that the world was designed for men and men alone, so there was no possible way that Rhaenyra Targaryen could ascend the throne without some sort of political pushback. Her loyalty, at this point, was something to be earned from either side, but now with Prince Aemond acting as Regent, it was almost impossible to feel any sort of loyalty towards the Greens with how poorly the common folk were being treated, and though Rhaenyra’s attempts to share food among the masses in King’s Landing was most certainly nothing more than a ploy to earn their fealty, it was working.
Y/n had lost a considerable amount of weight in the few weeks since rations had been cut back even further, and many of her regular customers had complained that her curves and plush thighs had thinned out, and anyone who gripped her tight enough could easily feel the grooves of her bones beneath the once pillow-soft flesh. Her silver-white hair appeared to be dull in colour, and her skin was more tender than ever before–not only was she more susceptible to bruising due to her malnutrition, but her clients were also rougher when they came to her; men were could hardly afford her services anymore, so they were taking her as they pleased whenever they could. Despite the neglect to her physical form, she still needed to perform her duties at the brothel each night, and had to hold her tongue in disgust each time any member or affiliate of the royal family requested her services. Y/n knew that, if she were to remain in King’s Landing for much longer, she would end up starving to death, so long as she was not brutally murdered first.
So, when she overheard two of her clients whispering about Rhaenyra’s call for all Targaryen bastards to flee to Dragonstone, she only hesitated for a brief moment before packing the few belongings she had into a moth-eaten sack and fleeing to the shore along with many of her brothers and sisters. On the journey, they shared their stories–who they were, who they may have descended from, why they had answered the Queen’s call… Each and every one of them were there out of sheer desperation, and many of them could not even be certain that they had any Targaryen blood, they were there based on rumours and hope of escaping starvation, even if it meant that they were going to be eaten alive by one of the largest dragons in the world.
Y/n had always been complimented for her Valyrian features, silver hair and purplish eyes, but nothing had prepared her for the unearthly beauty of Queen Rhaenyra. She was the pinnacle of how a Targaryen should appear in physicality and in presence. The moment she set foot in the regal library of Dragonstone, she commanded the attention of everyone inside, and as she argued with the dragon keepers in High Valyrian, Y/n could feel her heart beating against her ribcage. Her mere existence made Y/n nervous, similarly to how one might feel in the presence of a god, the woman watching in awe as the Queen commanded a dragon to serve her, reaching out to lay her hand upon his snout and close her eyes, feeling the energy transfer between them.
Her awe was quickly broken, though, as Vermax rejected the first man who stepped forward to claim him, then turning to spray fire at the remaining group rather than offer any acceptance. In truth, Y/n could not be surprised; she had willingly walked into the dragon pit in hopes of claiming a wild dragon, something that was rarely done by those with the purest of Valyrian bloodlines, let alone by someone who would never be recognized as a true Targaryen. She was only glad that she was able to flee and hide herself behind a large broken piece of stone before the dragon could swallow her whole. She could not remember how long she had been cowering behind the stone before she could feel the dragon’s presence behind her, feeling the force of his exhale around the stone. She finally pushed herself up on shaky legs, turning to find herself staring into the open jaws of Vermithor as he stared down at her. She trembled at his sheer size, her entire body scarcely comparable to the size of one of his long, sharp claws. Closing her eyes, she accepted her fate–this could not be any worse than the slow death of starvation she would have faced had she not left King’s Landing to begin with. This way, the pain would be worse, but her death would be instant, and her bones would not be left to rot in the streets. She let out a shaky breath, waiting for the heat of his fire, but it never came.
Instead, she felt her body fall back, landing against the jagged stone of the dragon pit from the force of his snout meeting her chest. Her eyes cracked open, peering up at him fearfully, only to be met by his curious stare. His jaws had closed, no long seeming to be interested in harming her as he laid his head down onto the ground, grumbling impatiently as he waited for her attention.
She turned her gaze upwards, finding the queen staring down at her amidst the chaos and smoke. She wore a small smirk on her face, appearing proud that someone was finally able to claim the wild dragon. Y/n felt a warmth in her belly at her attention, chest heaving as Rhaenyra nodded at her, as if giving her permission to finally lay claim to the dragon that had chosen her to ride him. His nose was scaly beneath her touch, but his flesh provided her with a comforting warmth that was so different to the uncomfortable heat of the still-burning flames all around her. She carefully pressed against him, resting her head against his nose, feeling the connection form between them–she could feel his emotions, how he was quickly calming from her touch, and she wondered if he could feel her heartbeat slowly decreasing from its rapid pace. He nudged her to climb up his wing, slowly raising her to step back up onto the platform and meet the queen face-to-face.
“What is your name?” Rhaenyra spoke, her tone firm but welcoming.
Y/n lowered her head, dropping into a poorly attempted curtsy, “Y/n, Your Grace.”
The queen nodded, “I must admit, I am surprised that you have been able to claim a dragon at all, let alone one such as Vermithor, but I cannot describe the relief you have given me today. You should be proud, having claimed the second largest, and arguably the fiercest dragon in the world.”
“I-I cannot tell you how this feels, Your Grace. I am but a common girl from Flea Bottom–this is my first time even leaving King’s Landing.”
“And now you are a dragon rider. How you have risen.” Rhaenyra smirked, dragging her violet gaze down the length of her body, “Come, you must be tired and hungry from your journey. I will have my ladies prepare you a bath and bring you new clothes. I need you strong, if you are to ride a dragon.”
Her night in Dragonstone had not felt real. For the first time since she was a small child, she had others taking care of her. The ladies were gentle as they massaged soap into her silver hair and dull skin, pressing rose-scented oil into her skin and braiding her hair into a style she had never had the pleasure of wearing–she typically could not afford proper hair care, as her clients tended to tug and rip at her silver curls while seeking pleasure, making it pointless to wear anything more than one simple braid. Her dress was simple, but still the finest quality she’d ever worn. It was black, with red stitching along the hem, almost as if Rhaenyra was claiming her as a member of the Blacks, which she supposed she likely was. Her mouth watered at the sight of the food, forgoing the utensils on the table and instead ripping pieces of meat apart with her bare hands, moaning at the taste and savouring every last lick of flavour, washing it all down with the sweetest red wine she had ever tasted.
She was on her second plate when Rhaenyra came to her chambers, silently slipping through the secret passage and motioning for the handmaidens to leave the room.
“I hope it is up to your standard,” She spoke, smirking as the girl flinched in surprise at the queen’s voice, “I’m afraid we have had to give up some luxuries in order to prepare for the coming war, but I figured that you would be wanting for a proper meal.”
“My queen,” Y/n spoke, wine dribbling down the corner of her mouth, “I cannot even remember the last time I have been able to taste meat at all, and I’m sure I’ve never been afforded something such as this.”
“I’m glad,” Rhaenyra took the seat across from her at the small round table, “I understand that you are tired and wish to retire soon, but I could not deny my curiosity. Tell me, do you know of your heritage?”
Y/n shrunk in her seat, unsure of whether her lineage may cause the queen any upset, “I cannot be certain, Your Grace, but I am told I come from either of two Targaryen men.”
Rhaenyra tilted her head, “Your mother could not be certain?”
Y/n pursed her lips, “I did not know my mother. She died in her labours, I’m afraid, but her employer took in and put me to work as soon as I was old enough.”
Rhaenyra nodded, the solemn look in her eyes making her understanding clear, “I am sorry to hear that. I can understand the pain of losing a mother, though I was fortunate enough to know her for a while before she was taken from us.”
Y/n bowed her head, “I was only a young child when Queen Aemma died, but I remember my household mourning her greatly. I’m told she was the finest of ladies.”
“Thank you, she was.” Rhaenyra gulped down the lump in her throat, “Enough about me, tell me of your lineage.”
Y/n nodded, “Some tell me that my mother was the bastard daughter of Prince Baelon, your grandsire. I’m told her hair was light in colour, not so much as mine, but her own mother was dark of hair. Others tell me that my father may have been…Prince Daemon.” She watched as the queen raised her brow, “I’m told he was a regular customer of my mother’s before she fell pregnant, though I cannot be certain where my Valyrian blood comes from.”
Rhaenyra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I am aware of my husband’s indiscretions, but do not fear. We cannot be to blame for the misdoings of our parents.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Y/n smiled at her softly, “Forgive me for asking, but I was under the impression that Prince Daemon was here with you, I had assumed that he would be more present in the claiming of the dragons.”
Rhaenyra frowned, “Daemon has claimed Harrenhal in my name, or so I’m told. In truth, I was so determined to find riders for my remaining dragons because I am not certain whether he fights for my claim or his own. I fear he still resents me for my father replacing him as his successor, and the last time we spoke he did not seem to be very pleased with me or the way that I wish to conduct this war.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Your Grace.” Y/n frowned, “My apologies, I never should have asked.”
“Nonsense,” Rhaenyra swiped a singular tear from her cheek, “You are one of my dragonriders now, blood of the dragon. You are privy to the internal quarrels of my council if you are to risk your life for my cause.”
Y/n nodded, unsure of what else to say. She opened her mouth, uncertain of what was about to come out when Rhaenyra stood, staring down at her with sharp violet eyes.
“My apologies for keeping you, my lady. I shall let you rest now, I need you at your best to begin your lessons in the morn.” She hesitated for a moment before finally rounding the table and pressing a firm kiss to the crown of her head, then finally fleeing through the secret passage that she had arrived through, leaving the girl stunned at the affection she had just received from the Queen.
In the following weeks, Y/n’s bond with Vermithor had grown more than she could have possibly imagined. She was far from fluent in High Valyrian and still had much to learn in the art of dragon riding, but she was now able to use basic commands with her mount and was growing more confident while flying.
She had also found herself acting as a confidant for the queen, at first mostly for political matters–Mysaria had been very helpful in the beginning when it came to pulling the commoners to her side, but Y/n had lived through the cruelty forced upon the masses by the Greens, she was able to give Rhaenyra a first-hand perspective. Then, she began coming to her for other matters, even just to talk, though Y/n understood how lonely she must feel among her counsel of men, especially now that she was forced to deal with the icy attitude of her own son, who had been entirely against the recruitment of the Targaryen bastards and now seemed to be punishing his mother for giving not one, but three fully grown dragons to those who had no rightful claim to them.
Y/n found comfort in the three other bastards that had joined Rhaenyra’s team. Hugh was a gentle soul in a tough vessel, always prepared to fight and protect those he cared about. He had quickly become quite close with the younger woman, viewing her almost as a younger sister (which they very well could be, for all they know). Ulf was, well, Ulf. He was rough around the edges, exactly the type you would expect to find in the lowest and poorest areas of Flea Bottom, the type to hang around brothels and bars for the majority of his life, spending the only coin to his name on booze and only the cheapest of whores. Addam was quieter than the other two when dealing with the queen and their newfound duties, but seemed to be the most endlessly confident man that Y/n had ever met. He was loyal to his core at the very least, but like the rest of them, he was nothing more than a commoner whose fate lay in the hands of those born into power, though he certainly had much more faith in Rhaenyra than the other two, mainly because of her greater amount of trust in him considering that he was able to claim a dragon without any help or even any effort–while the others had all come to Dragonstone to bond with a dragon, Seasmoke had chosen Addam on his own without prompt. Though, as much as he seemed to be the queen’s favourite amongst her new “army of bastards,” none were aware of the fact that Rhaenyra made nightly visits to Y/n’s chambers and would now consider her to be one of her closest confidants.
Rhaenyra had found herself being quite clingy when it came to Y/n. Every night after she crept through the secret passageway, she would sit and talk for hours with Y/n regardless of what state the young woman may have been in. She sat with her while she studied High Valyrian, while she bathed, even while she slept sometimes, silently stroking her silver-white locks as her breathing slowed and deepened, perhaps overstaying her welcome for an hour or two before leaving through the same passage in which she had come.
Y/n was among the few who could understand her frustrations. Everyone around her were men, none of whom considered her intelligent enough to lead their forces to victory; Daemon refused to correspond with her, despite the fact that he had travelled to Harrenhal in her name; her son resented her for bringing in these bastards and allowing them to claim dragons; her council rejected her ideas and undermined her rule as much as they possibly could. Y/n, however, was able to understand the sheer anger that she was feeling–to be ignored and criticised simply due to her gender. Rhaenyra knew fully well that everyone there would gladly turn their shields to Daemon should he press for his own claim to the throne, all except for her sweet Y/n.
The silver-haired queen could not be certain exactly when her affection for the young woman had grown past the point of decency. During their usual evenings together, Rhaenyra found herself reaching for her, laying a hand over her own or to scratch gently at her scalp or to stroke her cheek affectionately. It was something that Y/n had grown accustomed to, feeling Rhaenyra’s weight next to her in her feather-plush bed, her nimble fingertips soothing over her skin until she fell asleep. So much so, that the one evening that Rhaenyra did not come to her chambers, she found herself lying awake late into the night, waiting to feel the comforting, almost maternal presence of the silver queen.
This longing for the woman’s wandering of the halls of Dragonstone, thanking the gods for the many lit torches lining the walls–otherwise, she would be left to wander a labyrinth of blackness with no hope of finding the queen. Rhaenyra had been spending a large majority of her time in the castle’s vast library, which is exactly where the new dragonrider found her, slouched over dozens of large, dusty books that had likely gone untouched for the last century.
The silver haired woman paid no mind to the new presence in the room, instead continuing to rake her eyes across the page mindlessly.
“Your Grace,” Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered up at the sound of the young woman’s voice, “You did not join us for supper.”
The queen sat back in her chair, rolling her neck to remove some of the kinks out, “My appetite did not find me this evening, I’m afraid.”
“And you did not come to my chambers,” This caused her eyebrows to perk up, her violet eyes drawing down her robe-clad body. Y/n shifted her weight from leg-to-leg, heat rising to her cheeks as her next admittance fell from her lips, “I admit, I found it difficult to find sleep without your presence.”
A small chuckle fell from Rhaenyra’s lips as a tired smile crossed her features, “My apologies, my sweet. How thoughtless of me to neglect you so.”
“Neglect,” Y/n muses, rounding the edge of the desk to lean against the lip just next to Rhaenyra’s seat. “I fear the only one of us that is facing neglect at your hand, Your Grace, is you.” Her fingers reached for the queen’s pale cheek, ghosting over the soft skin and admiring the pink that grew beneath her touch, “You look tired, and you have not eaten since breakfast–and do not even try to argue, I asked your handmaiden.”
“My sweet keeper,” Rhaenyra smirked, “I fear comfort is something I cannot afford at the moment, not until this war is won and I take back my rightful inheritance.”
“A war will not be won tired and hungry,” She retorted, “You must take care of yourself–or at least, allow others to care for you.”
This caused Rhaenyra to scoff, “I’m certain that my council would not care for me, even if they had to. In fact, I may be doing them a favour by allowing myself to waste away as such.”
“Then allow me to care for you.”
Rhaenyra’s purple eyes widened in surprise, then settled into the familiar affectionate stare that she so often wore when dealing with the young woman, “Sweet girl, I fear you may be far too kind for this world. Or, for me, at the very least.”
“For the world, mayhaps, but I do not feel there is enough kindness in the world to treat you as you deserve, Your Grace.”
Rhaenyra stood from her chair abruptly, her own hands coming to settle over the young woman’s cheeks. A glaze of tears appeared in her eyes as she stuttered for a moment, mulling over her words to ensure that her point was as clear as possible.
⊱★ “ When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room. ” —; part one. part two. part three. ★⊰
THE SCARS IN OUR HEARTS.
⊱★ “ It has been years since the events, and when you eventually got the chance to go back with them, you thought everything would be the way it used to be. except it wasn't. three years, almost four, is a lot of time, and the people you used to know and the building you called your home do not feel the same anymore. Maybe you've been gone for too long to hope to find a place in their new life. ” ★⊰
⊱★ “ Hi I was rereading devious lies and I was thinking ab if nat and yn were to meet again and everything, yn would have the biggest trust issued ever. First her best friend took advantage of her and ruined her life, then the ones she considered family turned their backs on her without even letting her explain her side, and ofc how her lover shouted in her face that she's not welcome there anymore and how yn shouldn't even talk with her anymore ever. How the last time the team looked at her it was with anger and dissapointment That and also from the first part where she herself admitted to feeling like a stranger amongst her once friends and family.
Idk what you have in store for us for when you're feeling better and out of the writing block that you're currently experiencing, but I can't wait to read it. Take as long as you need, we're here! ” — Anon. ★⊰
⊱★⊰
I know that the person who left that in my inbox didn't mean it as a request (at least i don't think so) but i do what i want, and i've decided that i would write it as one. I also know that I haven't published (nor written, honestly) the third (and last) part of the AU, but it's fine (isn't it?). you may get the bonus parts before the end of the story but at least you get something <3
| Progress : draft completed (about 5.000 words) on the 25. 08. 2024.
Summary: Y/n Romanoff, a woman with a bright smile that almost hurts people to look at, the softest eyes that everyone falls for, the kindest heart that everyone adores. Trying to make life out of her family's name, but was stuck in an endless winter, with her dreams crushed by everyone. She is a real treasure in the form of a porcelain doll, but would she be, in the eyes of someone who's got it all?
Natasha Romanoff, a well known CEO and billionaire all around the world, nothing could stoop in her level. Cold, ruthless and born to thrive with so much determination in her heart. Trying to prove to her family that she is nothing like them and so much better. But, as she was caught up in the middle of a raging war, she was left with no choice but to face something for the first time.
Will they be able to escape the great war? Leaving with something unimaginable as they step in the daylight?
Or will this be just another endless winter, only ending until one of them loses?
Natasha RomanoffxFem!Reader
Warnings: Arranged marriage, cursing, violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, deprivation of many things as a child, G!p Natasha, (That is all for now!)
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Chapter 1: The Asylum Where I Was Raised
Chapter 2: Never Be So Polite You Forget Your Power
Chapter 3: Never Wield Such Power You Forget To Be Polite
Chapter 4: ...
Chapter 5: ...
°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~
Author's Note: Hi, everyone! I hope you'll enjoy this new Fanfic of mine :)) This is gonna be my first series here on tumblr, and I also might post it on my wattpad page. This won't be just 5 chapters, but I'm still unsure how many chapters it would have, I guess we'll just have to wait. Have fun reading, peeps! (◕ᴗ◕✿)
Summary: Not all the time in the world can erase your one too many bruises caused by Black Widow’s deceptions.
A/N: When I saw what I was doing I already had half of this on paper so… Enjoy.
Trigger Warnings: Angst? Language and mentions of alcohol. I don’t remember any others but if there is any, please, let me know.
“I see pain in your smile, I try to erase it but you're not made of paper.”
#not my gif
You set your cup of coffee on the floor and take a look at your target through your rifle scope. The man was still in his desk working on his computer rather franticly. The way he used his sleeves to clean his forehead told you that he was anxious, nervous and you wondered about what.
He’s been stealing from his company and deep involved in embezzlement, using the money to support terrorist groups. You’ve been watching him for a month and he never looked remotely bothered by his illegal activities, however, today he was all sweat and looks behind his shoulder.
He was worried about something. You ran the past month in your head and on your mental checklist you couldn’t find a single mistake that could’ve warned him about your presence or even that he was being followed.
Your target didn’t know he was your target. So it was something else.
You took another sip from your cup and pursed your lips for your drink was already too cold for your taste, and you always liked it simmering hot burning down your throat.
Then, you saw some strange movement in the front of the building, some cars that shouldn’t be there, some people that weren’t the common passersby, nor the common employees from the stores below the building.
“Fuck”, you mutter to yourself when your eyes caught a glimpse of a very specific red hair. That color, that shade was imprinted to your brain, much like the smell of it, no matter how hard you wanted to get rid off it.
You looked at the scope one more time and things click in place when she rans directly towards the target, your target. “That’s why he’s nervous.” You voice your knew knowledge to the wind, even alone the act of speaking out loud always helped you to fucus on your tasks.
The man you were about to kill probably realized that something was off, maybe someone tipped him about the unusual movement, you could never know and to be honest, it didn’t matter.
A dry laugh scaped your lips when you saw the man trying to fight with Natasha. They always do this, they always look at her and see someone that they can beat, they are so entranced by her beauties that never see the threat before is too late. She’s the perfect weapon.
He never had the chance, though, she had him pinned down the floor in milliseconds. You saw her speaking to someone on the comms and signaling to the team accompanying her that they were ready to move. Ready to extract her target.
A smirk came to your lips when you thought that this wouldn’t be happening. Over the last year, you lost three targets to S.H.I.E.L.D., to her. If she knew that she arrested your targets you couldn’t know, but you highly doubt that she’d be unaware of others chasing the objective of her missions.
You saw, by the way she looked to the top of the buildings, that she expected trouble and a wicked smile made its way to your lips.
To mess with Natasha was the same thing as mess with S.H.I.E.L.D. and you knew your employer wouldn’t want that. But you couldn’t help but think someone was leaking information from your firm because this last year more than half of missions were frustrated by their busts.
Although, you knew full well that this was almost certainly your worst idea, you let your aim scope to find the red head. She was on her tactical catsuit as usual, the red symbol, that represent her alias, on her waist was an alert to all those who could see it for what it was. A warning.
Even through a mile away, the scope let you see the curves of her body, her prime weapon was after all, to render her victim almost defenseless so she could strike her final bite, her final blow and they were done.
The way she kept putting her body in front of your target told you that she knew where you were, just maybe not the distance, since there were so many buildings around you. You were still wondering whether you should take the shot or not when she made up your mind for you.
You saw a tactical team to burst the door of the top floor from a building four hundred meters from you, you then realized that she knew you were around, her only mistake was to doubt your sniper skills by thinking you’d be operating from a closer building. “You wound me, Romanoff.” You mumble out loud but were there a person by your side, they’d still have a hard time in hearing you.
You lick your lips and check the wind direction and its intensity one more time before pulling the trigger slowly, just like you have learned. Aim set on your targets heart, finger pressing the gun trigger until the shot happens, soon after, the man you were watching for the past weeks fell to the floor with his shirt stained with his own blood.
You kept looking at the scene unfolding on the street by your scope and saw other agents running everywhere. Few took cover thinking they were under attack; others ran to help and aid the criminal on the floor, but Natasha just stood there. She looked at the corpse, then over her shoulder as if trying to recreate with her mind the bullet’s path and smirked when she realized that your bullet passed inches from her head.
It was nothing but a small window to take the shot without hurting anyone else, but damn if you weren’t the best sniper on the market. Plus, you could’ve take the shot sooner, even before she arrived, but then, how could you sent this message to her? You didn’t have red symbols on your waist to warn people that they should stay out of your way and now you knew that you had their attention. Her attention.
---
The second you stepped into your threshold you knew something was off, then the scent of her skin hit your nostrils right after a gust of wind swirled the room. She tried to hide her scent; spies always tried. They were really good at it actually.
“Your attempt of disguising your scent amuses me.” You spoke softly and let your words flee around the room looking for the intruder.
To many people you were a myth and to others you were an experiment that despite being successful, turned against their creators as all creatures seemed to. Enhanced around your teens, you were a prime hunter, an apex with heightened senses that made you who you are, a survivor. Since you didn’t know the reasons of her visit, you kept your instincts at peak.
“Who said I tried?” Her voice was low, raspy and sexy. Right then and there, you realized that you had never seen her in her huntress mode action up until now. That tone was always directed to her future victims, tried to lure you into a sense of false calmness until it was too late.
“Please.” You snorted, now darting your eyes towards where her voice came and, despite, the pitch-black darkness, you could disguise her form. She was seated on your couch in the corner as if she owned the place. “You already wounded my feelings earlier.”
“What? Does it hurt your feelings to be underestimated?” You took a seat in front of her, and she turned on the lamp that was on the table beside her. You blinked few times to adjust to the new light and smiled at the glass filled with vodka in front of her.
“Made yourself at home, I see.” Her smirk was nothing but infuriating just like her high relaxed pose, trying to sell that she was indeed relaxed, but you knew all too well that she was ready to burn the house down were you to breath a bit too deeper than usual.
“I tried to look for any other reason as to why you’d have my favorite vodka on your bar other than to make me feel at home and I found none.” She drove her glass to her mouth without breaking eye contact.
Now, Natasha Romanoff was a player, a professional flirty and you knew that. You have seen it one too many times with you or others, but that knowledge always seemed to fly out of the window whenever she gives you those eyes, that smile.
She flirted with Steve, she flirted with Bruce, she flirted with you, hell, she’d likely flirt with a door if it’d guarantee her a free entrance when she so desires or need. Everything she did was always thoroughly calculated, always with gains that far suppressed the possible losses, always a catch. Just like right now.
“What do you want Natasha?” Your voice cut the air and she sent that look through her lashes.
“Now you just hurt my feelings like that.” She spoke without breaking eye contact and you, without missing a beat, replied. “As if you had it.” She laughed lightly but nodded her hair as if accepting the comeback.
“Ouch.” She took another sip, this time she did it devoid of part of her charm taking that you wouldn’t fall for that anymore. If only she knew.
“Look, there’s a new big guy in town.” Her voice was businesslike despite her playful approach. “He’s dangerous and believe me; I really didn’t want to bring you into this but…” She lifted her eyes to meet yours and there it was, her true look, diploid of natural charisma, diploid of her deceits. “We could use your skills.”
“You mean you need me to sniff around and point you the direction?” She rolled you eyes but you were serious, after all, this was what they basically asked you to do with Loki, then with Ultron. You always thought you belonged with the Avengers, but you were nothing but a puppy ready to please your owner and the gods knew who controlled your leash.
“No. I’m after your huntress’ and hitman skills.” You pondered at her words and well, it could be true. They could need your help, but there were no guarantees that you wouldn’t end up at the Raft just like you did the last time you trusted her.
She sold you out so she could escape from Ross claws and ended up bringing down the Red Room, you knew it all, her sister was your co-worker and friend and she told you everything.
“I didn’t like my last accommodation.” She reacted just like you thought she would after your reply, immediately shooting you hundreds of old and empty excuses. The never ending justifications of how nothing went as she’d planned, that her intel was wrong, but nothing could erase the fact that even though they broke Sam and Wanda out, they left you behind.
You tried your hardest to avoid any stupid or futile comparisons, but your mind always liked to play against you by always remembering of how she never really stopped trying to trace Bruce while you rot on Ross’ hands.
“You know what’s funny, Natasha?” Your voice was low again and you stared at the ceiling, suddenly too tired to have this conversation. “There was a time when I’d have followed you to the graveyard. You’d ask me to jump, and I wouldn’t even ask you how high. Just like I did.” A sad smile graced your lips. “But this notion seems so old now and I’m tired. I’m not a puppy anymore.”
“I never saw you as one.” Her tone was harsh and you glanced at her long enough to sustain her glare. “I never used you, believe me, I’d never do this to you.”
“Forgive me if I don’t.” You tone was flat, conveying how little you believed in her. Before? Maybe you could’ve trusted her completely, but now things are not like that anymore. There were feelings, mistrust and truth be told, you could deal with the Black Widow, but you didn’t know who Natalia, the real person behind the mask was and that scared you.
She downed the content of her glass and stared at the bottom of it. “I never lied to you about my feelings.” Despite the glossy covering her eyes, you tried to look for any signs of deceptions, of manipulation.
“Everything I told you that night was true and if I could only take back my mistakes. It was never my intention to hurt you.” You set your eyes to the ground, focused on anything that could ground your mind to avoid it to get loss on that night, the night which you’d never forget, no matter what.
As if imprinted on your brain, her skin’s taste was even more delightful erupting with lust and truth be told you could still feel her love burning your veins, eating you alive all the way through and to your core.
And back then you thought, you dared to daydream with the possibility of holding her out on the open instead of only in the secrecy of your room. How fullish said dreams tasted now.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You mutter but she frowns at you. “It does to me.” You lock eyes and still, no visible sign of her tricks.
“Look, I’ve been looking for you for almost a year now and after I caught rumors of your new work, I started to track you down. That shot yesterday? Pretty impressive by the way.” She assumed a rather unease position, maybe finally letting her masks down. Maybe.
“And all this time playing chase with you only made the anticipation grow and I swear I had a made-up speech ready, but all of that means nothing if I don’t get you to understand that I regret leading you on the way I did.” She got up to her feet and walked to the door.
“But, like I said, I never lied when I said I love you that night.” She stopped and fully looked at you for one last time and your heart ached at how beautiful she looked like this, without her layers. But then, the scars on you screamed for you to sober up and not let your guard down.
After all, you knew all too well how she always could put herself at the most vulnerable place just to get what she wanted from her victim, her techniques of interrogation and manipulation where all known but you had seen it beforehand. One too many times.
“What happened to your ‘love is for children’?” Your eyes were stone hard and although they should be a mirror of your heart, they were, in fact, a stark contrast. You knew you were crazy for letting yourself getting involved in first place, for falling in love with her, let alone to think she’d ever stop holding back.
“I met you.” She shot you a so, so small smile that you thought you had imagined it, before slipping through the door, leaving you stunned in her wake.
you can read All Too Well as part 2, if you wish :)
prompt: “it wasn’t real.” “it was to me.” “did you ever even love me?” “no. i never loved you.”
summary - after your apartment is broken into, natasha realizes she loves you too much to put you in danger. so she breaks up with you.
warnings: mentions of a break-in, smoking, breakups, angst, ptsd mentions, jealousy, mean nat, fluffy ending, happy ending. natasha’s an emotionally repressed idiot.
natasha knew she was in too deep from the moment she met you. she introduced herself, and you had absolutely no idea who black widow or natasha romanoff was. it was refreshing, seeing that little sheepish blush on your face when your friend whispered in your ear, and told you who natasha was. the nervously cute way you played with your fingers, yet you genuinely laughed at everything she said. she fell for you from the moment she had met you at one of tony’s parties. you were a new intern for one of his companies, and tony specifically wanted to introduce you two. natasha was reluctant, until she met you. everything about you seemed to make her heart smile.
you had a witty response for everything, and natasha loved that. natasha loves you, and that’s the problem. in her line of work, love is weakness. love is what your enemies use to torture you. she can’t ever let anything bad happen to you, not even herself. because natasha romanoff is the worst person on the planet, regardless of the starry eyes you give her, or how you don’t flinch away when she touches you. despite knowing her past. the soft touches you leave on her body, along with those delicate kisses. everything about you makes natasha weak, and for a moment, she doesn’t care. that moment lasts a whole year, until you get hurt.
the police concluded it was a home invasion gone wrong, but the intruder didn’t dare try to steal anything. he cut the side of your cheek, and warned you that he’d be back. natasha had a gut wrenching feeling that it was one of her enemies; she knew it was. coming after the one thing she loves the most. he almost had you— he could have killed you. he didn’t, but he could have, and that’s the message he wanted to send natasha. and where was miss romanoff that night? on a mission halfway across the world.
of course wanda and tony had shown up at the station rather quickly, and they comforted you till natasha raced home as quickly as she could. the pure heartbreak in her eyes was agonizing as she saw the cut on the side of your face, and all the little voices in her head told her that it was her fault. she engulfed you into her arms for an hour as you sobbed and admitted how scared you were. how vulnerable you felt. natasha held you that night, as her thoughts ran wild. you slept soundly, feeling safe in her arms, while she felt like some wild beast you were trying to domesticate.
you go to work the next day, despite natasha’s request for you to say home. you insist on going on with your normal routine, and that you aren’t going to let this get to you. you don’t tell her it already has, just like it’s already gotten to her as well. when you leave, natasha’s alone in your apartment, and alone with her thoughts. things she hasn’t thought about since before she even met you. she thinks about your pretty face, and the scar that cuts going to leave. how you’ll always remember every time you look at it; how she’ll always remember every time she looks at it.
she’s waiting for you when you get home. sitting on the couch, sitting as straight as a robot. she doesn’t look at you right away, and when she does she has an inscrutable look in her eyes. “are you okay, nat?” you ask softly, and she wants to scoff at the ridiculous question. you’re in danger; of course she’s not okay. “i have to go.” she says, and your face softens. “on a mission? so soon?” you ask as you make your way to the couch to kiss her cheek. she tenses and you furrow your eyebrows as you pull away and stare at her questioningly. “no. i have to go. i have to leave your apartment. i can’t be here anymore.” she says and your expression turns serious. “w-what do you mean?” you ask uncertainly.
“is this because of what happened yesterday? because i already started looking for a new apartment, nat. it’ll be okay.” you promise, and her jaw tenses as she grips on her jeans. “no, it’s not okay. i don’t care if you get a new apartment, i can no longer be here. around you.” she elaborates and you freeze at the admission. “what?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper. “this... it’s gone on too long. i didn’t intend to go this far with you.” she utters the words that make you back away slowly; as if the enter place was going to cave in.
“you— you didn’t intend for this to go that far? what are you talk about, natasha?” you ask, and the sound of her name makes her look at you. there’s something in her eyes beneath all that exhaustion. what she’s tired of, you don’t know, but you can’t dwell. too many thoughts are circling in on you. “i mean, we both know i was never the relationship type. that hasn’t changed.” she states, making you flash her a look of disbelief. “of course it’s changed! we’ve been together for a year, natasha! a year! you’ve been a wonderful girlfriend, where the hell is this coming from?” you ask a bit demandingly, and she shakes her head.
“that means nothing. this year meant nothing.” she lies right through her teeth, but the words sound so honest as they hit you. your whole body goes cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself for some kind of comfort, “nothing? h-how could you even say that? what about everything we did— everything you said.” you try, sounding so desperate as your voice breaks. your throat hurts and tears are stinging your eyes. the sound and sight of you makes natasha’s heart shatter in her chest. “it didn’t mean anything. it wasn’t real.” natasha says coldly as she stands up. suddenly this is becoming too excruciatingly real. just yesterday she was holding you in her arms, keeping you safe. just yesterday she uttered those three words. ‘i love you’.
“it was to me.” you whisper.
a tear falls from your eyes as you look up at natasha who’s standing a few feet away. it’s pretty fucked up that all you want is for her to wrap her strong arms around you and make you feel better. she says nothing, all she does is stare at you as if you’re a stranger. as if you’re not the girl she’s been making love to for the last year. you swallow thickly, “did you ever even love me?” you ask, trying so hard to keep your voice steady. the question nearly winds natasha, but her eyes land on the cut on your cheek. the reality sets in. she has to do this.
natasha goes into assassin mode; all of the emotion leaves her face and eyes. “no. i never loved you.” she simplifies, and natasha can see the exact moment she broke your heart. it’s engraved into her mind, and amongst all of the terrible things she’s done, this one makes the top three. your bottom lip trembles, but you bite down on it hard to keep it steady. “i-i’ll help you pack your—“ you try but she cuts you off. “i already handled it this morning.” natasha responds curtly, and your heart sinks. she planned this. she was planning on leaving you. you wondered how long she’s been thinking about leaving; how many nights she’s spent in your bed feeling suffocated by you.
“goodbye y/n.” she says, and as you look up at her through teary eyes, you can see what looks like regret behind her own. why is she doing this? she doesn’t really want to leave, does she? her eyes say no, but she just said all those awful things. you blink, trying to blink the tears away but they fall rapidly, multiplying. she’s walking away now. she’s making her way to the front door, and you know this time she’s never coming back. never.
your voice is stuck in your throat and the words physically crawl out, “please don’t go.” you try to whisper, but it comes out as a pathetic whimper instead. natasha turns her head, but your back is to her. you don’t want to watch her leave. you don’t think your heart could take having that image burned into your mind. tears well up in the assassins eyes as she takes your image in one last time. you in this apartment. you with your work uniform on that you hate. your hair in an unruly ponytail after a long day. it takes everything in natasha to turn towards the door, and walk out.
but she does. she leaves, and as soon as that door shuts again, the haunting realization that it will never be open for her again makes the tears in her eyes fall. she turns back around, she doesn’t want to go. she wants to walk in and tell you everything she just said was complete and utter bullshit. she wants to tell you she loves you so much the thought of anything happening to you because of her makes her want to die. she hears the muffled sobs through the door, and her heart breaks even more than before. she broke you. she broke you, but she will not be the reason you die. you being sad is better than you being dead.
right?
//
six months. it’s been six months since you heard from natasha. the first few months felt like hell. all you did was cry, or try not to cry. you barely left your house unless it was for work; not to mention the ptsd from the break in. you moved into a new apartment a few days ago. it feels a bit better. now that you live on a different side of town, you feel a bit safer, but a part of you wonders if natasha will ever knock on your old door and be surprised when someone else answers.
you push that thought away quickly as you get ready for one of tony’s infamous company parties. it’s at the avenger headquarters, so you don’t know if you’ll be seeing natasha, but you put on a tiny black dress and curl your hair to be prepared. you’re not going alone; you’ve been casually dating your coworker johnny for a month now. you decided to bring him as your plus one. you don’t really know how you feel about johnny. he’s sweet, and you’re trying to move on with your life without natasha.
natasha on the other hand; she’s an angry mess without you. she spends her days in the compound when she’s not training or on missions. she’s built so much arm muscle in the last six months just to keep herself busy from thinking about you. you and your smile. she isn’t sure if you’ve moved on, or if that smile is directed at someone new. she hopes not.
she keeps a picture of you by her bed, and she thinks about you every day. sometimes, when she’s in town and drives by your apartment, she thinks about stopping by. she thinks about pouring her heart out to you, and telling you the truth. then she thinks about the way you looked at her that night; the words she said to you that she didn’t mean. that evening’s been replaying in her mind since she left you. god, she hasn’t stopped seeing your face every time she shuts her eyes. she remembers how it felt to have you in her arms; or when she’d wake up to you. she hasn’t been with anybody since you, and she doesn’t want to be. sure, she’s gotten offers, and there were a number of women and men in the compound who wanted a piece of her, but all she could think about was you. it was as if you plagued her thoughts twenty-four seven.
natasha romanoff has never been in love before you. she had never really felt much of anything before you other than anger. meeting you was like putting water on a fire that’s been burning for so long. a fire nobody else could put out except for you. there was no more fire though; just a drought.
the redhead glances down at her glass of expensive champagne as she stands at the bar wearing a tight red dress. the room is full of shield agents, and her teammates, along with other various workers who worked for fury and tony. there were a hoard of people she’s known for years, some longer than a decade, yet she’s never felt more alone. just as the widow is standing around feeling sorry for herself, she hears the most gorgeous sound in the world. for a moment she thinks she’s hallucinating. it’s your giggle.
natasha looks up, and her eyes lock on you. you’re wearing a tight black dress, and a pair of matching black doc martens. your hair is curled perfectly, yet your back is to natasha and she can’t see your face. her heart falls into her stomach as she sees a tall man standing beside you, he slinks his arm around your waist, and kisses your cheek. you’ve moved on. of course you moved on, you’re wonderful. natasha frowns as she looks down at her half empty glass.
“need something stronger?” yelena asks, pulling natasha out of her thoughts. the redhead turns to look at her younger sister who’s now holding out a flask for natasha to take. natasha gladly accepts, taking the flask and chugging quickly. the taller woman can’t help but stare at you. you turn your body to the side to look at the man you’re here with. he’s talking about something and you’re listening to every word he says. just like you used to listen to her.
“she looks good.” yelena comments, reaching for the flask. natasha scowls, “she always looks good.” the older woman mutters, making yelena chuckle as she shakes her head. “идиот (idiot).” yelena mutters, and natasha glares at the blonde, “you’re an idiot! three years ago you were calling a seatbelt a strap on!” natasha snaps, and yelena’s smirk deepens. “you’ve been such a bitch lately, and now i see why. did y/n ditch you for him?” she asks with a hint of amusement, yet her eyes linger on your date longer than their supposed to. if natasha wanted to kill this guy, yelena already had five different ways to do it running through her mind. “no. i told you, i broke up with her. it was just a fling.” natasha lies horribly and yelena scoffs.
“a fling is that stupid thing you had with green superhero. what you had with her was different, and it’s gonna take a lot of convincing for you to make me believe you broke up with her.” yelena laughs, and natasha glowers at the younger woman, “and why exactly is me breaking up with her so hard to believe?” natasha inquires, causing yelena to shoot her a knowing expression. “because you’re in love with her.” yelena acknowledges, and the redhead tenses at the words. she knows they’re true. everyone in this damn room except for you knows it.
“she’s better without me.” natasha affirms, making yelena stare at her as if she’s gone crazy. “before we broke up, someone tried to hurt her. they broke in while i was on a mission and cut her face, yel. the police say it was a home invasion gone wrong.” natasha scoffs and yelena raises a brow. “you don’t think so?” she asks and natasha offers her a serious look. “it was a message. it had to have been. it made me realize just how many enemies i’ve made. she’s better off without me, because next time it won’t just be a cut to her face and i’d never forgive myself for it.” natasha hisses under her breath, and yelena purses her lips.
“yes, i felt the same before i let myself be happy with kate. but you have to realize danger is everywhere, right? that guy could murder her in her sleep and we wouldn’t even be prepared for it.” the blonde adds bluntly, and natasha’s eyes widen. “why the hell would you say that?!” the redhead asks with a hiss, and yelena rolls her eyes, “because it’s true. the only way you’re gonna be able to keep her safe is by protecting her, and how are you gonna do that from far away?” yelena asks pointedly.
the redhead looks over at you, and as if on cue, you look up and your eyes lock with hers. time stills as your eyes lock with those emerald green orbs. still as beautiful as ever. your breath gets caught in your throat, and within a second all of your progress in the past six months comes crumbling down. you get lost in her eyes for a split second, before looking away quickly. your chest aches as you swallow whats in your glass, and try to focus on whatever johnny and bucky are talking about.
natasha’s gaze is glued to your back for a good five seconds after that. yelena’s chuckle pulls her out of her trance. “you are both идиоты (idiots).” yelena confirms, and natasha shoots daggers at yelena with her eyes. natasha snatches the flask out of her sisters hands and finishes what’s left, causing yelena’s jaw to drop in offense. “that was the only vodka i brought!” the blonde is borderline pouting, causing natasha to roll her eyes. “i needed it more than you did. i’m getting out of here.” natasha remarks as she places the flask in yelena’s hands before the redhead walks away.
natasha turns her head to look at you one more time, except you’re no longer standing in the same place as you were before. natasha’s stomach burns with jealousy as she thinks about you going home with your date. she tries to push that thought far away as she exits the party, and makes her way to the elevator. now her mind is centering around you, and your laugh. how beautiful you looked tonight. you’re always so beautiful. her fists clench as the image of someone else with their arm around your waist is now branded into her mind. she knows she has no right to feel this way; but she still feels undeniably jealous.
as she steps outside of the building, her eyes lock with yours. you’re smoking a cigarette on your own. natasha freezes in her tracks right outside of the entrance of the building. neither of you make a move, or say a word. you blink a few times, your heart is pounding, and you can’t even bring yourself to say anything. she looks down at the cigarette in your right hand. “you smoke now?” she asks, and a wave of disbelief washes over you. she hasn’t dared to reach out for months, and the first thing she says to you when she sees you is that?
you shrug, keeping your composure. “i picked it up.” you respond curtly, as you turn away from her, and continue to smoke. natasha bites the inside of her cheek hard, refraining herself from saying anything, yet she doesn’t make any movement to walk away. “where’s your boyfriend?” she asks blandly, and you roll your eyes, your back still to her. “he’s not my boyfriend. we came in separate cars, and he left.” you respond simply, and she nods slowly. you’re still refusing to look at her, but she’s practically gaping at you.
“you look good.” she adds, breaking the short silence. you sigh as you toss your nearly finished cigarette on the ground. you turn to look at her, a deadly serious look in your eyes and it nearly makes the ex assassin gulp. “don’t do that.” you warn, causing natasha to knit her brows together, “do what?” she questions, and you flash her a pointed look. “the small talk. stop trying to pretend like you care about anything pertaining me. we don’t have to talk. ever. you can keep walking.” you say, gesturing your hand towards the parking lot. you swear a wave of hurt flashes through natasha’s eyes, but she regains herself quite quickly. she clears her throat, “i do care. i care about you so much.” she claims, and she takes a step closer to you. instinctively you take a step back; the hurt in her green, jewel colored orbs clear as day now.
“six months later and you’re still a liar? you know, you should have been an actress, natasha. i guess if you ever decide to quit the avengers, you have something to fall back on.” you snap as you start to walk away. “wait— please don’t go yet. i just wanted to apologize.” she tries, trailing behind you. you come to an abrupt stop, causing her to halt. you turn around, tears are in your eyes yet you look undoubtedly angry. “apologize? for what? for walking out on me when i needed you, or for wasting a year of my life with your lies?” you ask harshly, and her shoulders deflate. “i know what i said that night—“ she tries, but you cut her off.
pure rage flashes through your eyes, “don’t. that night... that night was the only honest night of our relationship. the rest of it was all a lie.” your voice is cruel, and natasha feels herself shrinking. is this how you felt that night? “please i—“ she tries, but you shake your head. “no, natasha. i don’t want to hear it. you’ve had months to try to talk to me, months to explain yourself. i’ve moved on.” you’re lying right through your teeth, but the way her face changes into an obvious pained expression is, in the moment satisfying. hurting her the way she hurt you feels good in this moment.
natasha looks down at her shoes, her throat aches and her eyes are burning with tears. she blinks them away quickly, nodding as she looks up at you. “can you— can you at least tell me that you’re happy? just tell me you’re happy without me, and i swear i’ll leave you alone. i won’t try to explain myself, or ever bother you again.” natasha swears, and you blink, your eyes set on hers. all you can hear are those words she said to you. those words you’ve heard in your head every night for the last six months. ‘i never loved you’. those nights making love to you, whispering how much she loved you in your ear; that was all a lie.
the bitter, furious expression etches itself onto your features, “i’m happy. much happier. thank you for leaving my life, it was the best thing you ever did for me.” you spit coldly, and the moment the words leave your mouth you regret them. the way her face looks; it’s as if you just slapped her. she backs away from you slowly, nodding as she pries her eyes away from you. her hands are at her side, and she’s standing there robotically, kind of like she has no idea what to do with herself. the anger leisurely exits your body, and suddenly, under the pale lighting of the moon, you can see just how broken natasha looks.
“i’m sorry for bothering you. goodnight.” her tone is barely above a whisper, and she turns around on her heels and quickly disappears back into the building. you stand there for what feels like ages; you don’t even realize you’re crying until you lick your lips and taste the salty tears mixed with the faded strawberry flavor of your lipgloss. she hurt you terribly, yet you can’t help but feel irrefutably guilty as you think about how she looked at you after those lies left your mouth just now. you weren’t happy without natasha; how could you be? you’ve just felt so used, hurt, and angry, you wanted to hurt her feelings like she hurt yours. it felt good for a few moments, but now you just feel awful.
you close your eyes and rub your palms across your stained cheeks, wiping your tears away roughly. at least you evened out the score now. who are you kidding? you’d let her win every battle if it meant she’d come back. but she doesn’t love you. why was she even trying to talk to you in the first place?
that night thoughts of natasha plague your mind. what explanation could she possibly have? what more could she need to say? didn’t she say everything she needed to the night she dumped you? you sigh, tossing and turning in your bed. this is for the better. being without her is better than being with someone who doesn’t really love you. regardless of how much it hurts. still, the look she gave you tonight is stuck in your brain.
//
all of your progress you’ve made over the last half year, seems to be lost. you realize how in love you still are with natasha as soon as you can’t stop thinking about her after that night. as soon as you realize no matter how much you want to, you can’t hate her. no matter how much she hurt you; no matter how used you feel... you still miss her more than anything. if you were being honest, all you wanted was for her to knock on your door and beg for your forgiveness. even though you know she doesn’t deserve it.
the weeks go on, and october rolls by. you break things off with johnny before he catches any serious feelings, and luckily, you get promoted at work so you don’t have to see him every day anymore. your financial life seems to be getting better, yet you can’t help but feel as if you’re living like a robot. living day to day; forcing yourself to eat, work, and breathe. a part of you lives with the constant nagging; that little voice in your head that makes you feel so small. it tells you horrible things.
‘you were never enough for nat.’
‘of course she lied about loving you, who would?’
‘you can’t do anything right today, it’s no wonder natasha left you so easily.’
‘she probably found someone better.’
of course, these thoughts aren’t happening 24/7, but they are getting more consistent. one week it gets so bad you don’t go a single night without crying. you call into work for three days straight before showing up and going right to tony’s office. you knock lightly, and he looks up from his laptop, smiling a friendly smile at you. “good morning, y/n! what can i do for ya?” he asks, and you flash him a watery smile. immediately the older man can see somethings wrong. your skirt and blouse, that are usually as prim and proper as you, are wrinkled. the bags under your eyes are evident, and it’s clear you aren’t wearing any makeup.
“good morning, mr. stark. i-i know i called out for a few days this week, but i have a few weeks of vacation time available... i was wondering if i could use a week of it?” you ask a bit nervously, looking down at your fingers while playing with them. “of course you can. though, you haven’t taken a vacation in years. is everything alright?” he asks, and you look up, nodding too quickly for his liking. “yup! everything’s fine! just planning on visiting my parents.” you lie. you haven’t visited your parents in years due to your rocky relationship with them.
he stares at you, seemingly unconvinced. he nods reluctantly, “alright... well, if you want to start your vacation today, you can. i’ll put it in right now.” he says, and you smile gratefully. “thank you, mr. stark. i’ll see you next week. have a wonderful day.” you muster up sincerely, and he smiles kindly at you. “you too. if you ever need to talk, just remember you’re not alone. you dated one of my best friends for a year, you became my friend.” he reminds and you smile sadly. “thank you, tony. i’m fine.” you lie, and he nods reluctantly.
“well, alright...” he trails off as he watches you walk out of his office. “don’t forget your sunscreen! vegas is sunny, even this time of year!” he warns, and this, earns a sincere chuckle from you.
tony tries to push the thought out of his mind, but he brings it up to pepper that night before bed. “i’m sure she’s just going through a hard time because of the breakup...?” pepper asks and he sighs, “that’s just it; over the last few months she’s been thriving! i even heard she had a thing with that johnny boy from HR. but after that party a few weeks ago things changed. i’m telling you, babe, the kids been a zombie at work. she called out for the last three days, and today she requested a week long vacation!” he admits, and pepper frowns.
“a vacation? since when does y/n ever want a vacation? she loves work...” pepper mutters, and tony flashes her an ‘i told you so’ expression. “was natasha at that party?” the blonde asks, and tony thinks for a moment, before nodding. “hey, you know now that i think about it, i think they sort of disappeared at the same time... do you— do you think they hooked up??” tony asks a bit scandalously. pepper laughs at her husbands love of gossip, “hmm... maybe. i don’t know... did natasha ever tell you why they broke up?” pepper asks curiously, and tony shakes his head.
“of course not. she just came back to the compound one night and asked for her old room back. we put two and two together when we stopped seeing y/n hanging around. i never asked y/n about it because it was right after her apartment got broken into. poor kid had to deal with that huge cut on her face, and a breakup. i didn’t want to pry.” tony confesses, and pepper furrows her eyebrows. “why would natasha break up with her right after that? i know natasha isn’t the most loving person, but we all know she was head over heels for y/n. there was no way she just decided to breakup with her for no reason. especially while y/n was going through that.” pepper points out.
tony makes a face, “i don’t know... nat’s kind of an ass...” he trails off jokingly, and pepper hits his shoulder, causing him to laugh. “i’m kidding. look, i go to the compound tomorrow to help peter train. i’ll ask nat about y/n. i’ll gather some more information for you.” he winks at his wife, making her giggle as she shakes her head in amusement. “normally i’d advise you not to get involved, but somebody needs to get those two back together already.” she huffs.
natasha hasn’t gotten more than an hour of sleep since her last encounter with you. seeing you look so beautiful, so happy without her makes her realize all her insecurities were true. you found someone better, someone who deserves your love and kindness. someone who can tell you how they feel without struggling with their emotions. someone who can hold you at night, and allow you to sleep without having nightmares that wake the both of you up. someone normal.
she’s been living on autopilot since she left you, and she has a feeling that’s not going to change. how is it that she can’t imagine her life before you? it was only a year... a year of your smiles, gentle touches, and delicate kisses. the purest love natasha has ever received. it’s no wonder she couldn’t return it the way she should have. she loves you. more than she’s ever loved anything. but she lost you, and she knows there’s no way to get you back.
“jeez, you look awful.” tony’s voice causes natasha to roll her eyes as she waits for the coffee machine to finish up her drink. she doesn’t even bother looking at the older man, “because you know so much about looking good.” she mutters under her breath and tony steps closer. he gets a look at the bags under natasha’s eyes, and the way her eyes are hard and fixated on her mug. “she’s miserable without you, you know?” tony asks, breaking the short silence. natasha tenses, she knows he’s talking about you. “that’s not what i saw.” she mumbles.
“the eyes can be deceiving.” he reminds, and natasha responds with silence. he sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “when are you going to stop this? you’re both miserable, and it’s obvious as hell that you don’t want to be here, nat. you want to be with her.” he says adamantly, and natasha slams her mug down onto the counter so hard it nearly shatters. “she’s safer without me, stark!” natasha snaps, and tony looks taken back for a moment.
“you don’t know what it’s like to have so many enemies you can’t even go on a mission without someone trying to hurt the person you love.” natasha’s voice is stern, and her brows are pinched together while her eyes are glossy. tony looks at her for a second without saying anything, “that guy who broke into her old apartment... it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong was it?” he asks and natasha’s jaw tenses before she answer. “no. it wasn’t.” she retorts bluntly, but the way she’s still refusing to meet tony’s eyes shows him just how much this has been eating her up.
“you know, no matter how wrong you think you are for her, nobody gets to decide that but her. i can’t tell you she’s never going to get hurt, and i can’t tell you if that fear of her getting hurt when you aren’t around will ever go away. trust me, i know that fear, natasha. but i also know love, and so do you. you can’t just pretend not to love someone because you’re afraid of the outcome. i’ve known you for eleven years now, and never once have i seen you as happy as you are with her.” he points out, and natasha snaps her mouth shut.
“she’s with somebody else now.” natasha announces, and tony scoffs. “who, johnny from HR? word around the office is they stopped seeing each other last month. right after that party i threw here.” he says and natasha’s entire expression changes. she turns her head to look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. “w-why?” natasha asks, and he flashes her a knowing look, “i’ll give you three guesses but you only need one.” he taunts, and natasha chews on the inside of her cheek.
“she doesn’t want to talk to me. in fact, at the shield party she told me she was happier without me.” natasha swallows thickly as she remembers your exact words. tony rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms, “happier? natasha, she spent the last six and a half months throwing herself into work and refusing to say your name. then all of a sudden she sees you at the shield party and she’s missing work, and using her pto?” he asks, and natasha pauses, scrunching her brows together. “she’s missing work? she never misses work, she loves work.” natasha says, more to herself than to tony.
the older man flashes the redhead a look, “i know. which is why i’m worried about you both. you should go check on her.” he urges, causing natasha to shoot daggers at him with her eyes. “go see her?? i don’t even have her new address!” she hisses and he raises his brows. she falters for a moment, “okay... maybe i have the address... but i don’t have the apartment number!” she proclaims, and tony shakes his head, chuckling. “apartment 345. seriously, nat, think about going to check on her. even if it doesn’t mend your relationship, at least you’ll know she’s alright.” he says simply, before stealing the fresh coffee natasha hasn’t even taken a sip of yet.
she glowers at him as he slips away, making her sigh in defeat. she knows she can’t keep living like this. living without you.
//
it takes natasha two whole days to work up the courage to show up at your apartment. even after she’s standing right in front of your door. she looks down at her boots and sighs. what is she doing? she can’t try to win you back after all those things she said. “natasha?” your voice from behind her causes her to freeze. “what are you doing here?” you ask with a handful of grocery bags. she turns around to see you; you in your oversized flannel jacket and ripped jeans, along with a cropped top. you furrow your eyebrows because she’s staring at you as if she’s looking at you for the first time.
“how did you get my address?” you ask uncertainly, and your face changes. “you’re a spy. you literally are a professional at gathering intel... i’ll stop asking stupid questions now.” you mutter as you nudge her to the side softly to get to your door. you push it open and your greeted with your german shepherd puppy, “hi sweetheart.” you greet her and natasha eyes the dog who comes rushing over to her and starts jumping around her legs.
“that’s winnie. i got her last month.” you admit, and you sigh tiredly as you see a pee stain on the wooden floor. “she’s still learning how to live as a civilized lady.” you admit as you set the bags on the counter and walk over to the mop near your kitchen. you look up and see natasha kneeling down and stroking your puppy’s head, the sight tugs on your heartstrings. “she’s cute.” natasha confirms, and you smirk as you mop up winnie’s mess. “thanks...” you trail off as a silence washes over you both.
“would you—“
“i just came by to—“
you both start speaking simultaneously, causing you to bite your bottom lip. she stares at you, silently offering you to go first. “would you like something to drink? i can make hot chocolate.” you ask calmly, and she shakes her head. “no thank you... i just... i know i promised to leave you alone... but i... i can’t stop thinking about you. i’ve felt like i’ve been living my life on autopilot without you. i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t be here, but i’ve never felt this way before.” she confesses, standing by the front door, her emerald eyes pouring into yours as she stares at you with an expression you can’t even read. she looks even more broken than when you last saw her.
your fingers are playing with the ends of your flannel jacket, and you stare at her for awhile. “wh-why did you do that? you lied to me for a year. a whole year, natasha.” your voice cracks as you speak, and you mentally curse yourself for it. natasha’s fingernails dig into her palm as she clenches her fists, and she shakes her head. “no. the time we spent together was the greatest time of my life. i lied to you that night. i... you don’t understand, that man who broke in, he wasn’t just an intruder... i put you in danger. i have too many enemies, and i knew you wouldn’t just let me go. so i hurt you, and i’m sorry.” natasha sounds full of shame and regret, and your brows scrunch together in confusion and a bit of anger.
“so you lied?? you said all of those horrible things so it’d be easier for me to let you go?? natasha— it wasn’t any easier for me to let you go! it felt like someone cut a hole in my chest!” you’re nearly shouting, your hand over your chest in emphasis. natasha shuts her eyes, a ragged breath escaping her lips as she tries to ignore the tears threatening to leave her eyes. when she opens them again, you can see the tears brimming in those emerald orbs, “i’m sorry... i’m so sorry, i thought you’d be better without me...” her voice is faint and your heart cracks in your chest at the sight of her. “why would you think that? i love you, natasha. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” you say sincerely, and this causes her heart to flutter. natasha doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she can feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, and falling off her jaw onto her collarbone.
“you love me again...?” she asks in complete shock. you shake your head, your own eyes full of tears. “i never stopped, nat.” you confess earnestly, and her bottom lip is quivering as her tears won’t stop. “i’m sorry, detka. i’m so sorry i left you. i love you so much, i always have.” her hands are shaking and it’s like your body has a mind of its own as you walk over to her slowly. you carefully inch up to her with your arms open, and her heart palpitates against your chest as she gladly reaches for you and pulls you against her.
her strong embrace engulfs you, and the smell of her makes you start to sob. you don’t know how long you two are standing there like this. your arms around her waist and her arms around your neck, holding you to her chest. your tears were surely staining her shirt, but you didn’t care. you’ve missed her so much, she’s all you’ve been able to think about for months. “you can’t just do that, nat. you can’t— you can’t just make decisions for my benefit without talking to me about it.” you say sternly as you push her away, looking up at her with a stringent expression, yet the widow could see the vulnerability seeping through.
“i promise i’ll never leave you again, detka. not as long as i’m breathing.” she swears, as she pulls you in again, kissing your head as she keeps you held tightly. that’s a promise natasha intends to keep.
A/N: This came to mind while I was riding my peloton bike, idk why
Warnings: fluff, angst
Wanda tried to feign interest in the rather one-sided conversation she was having while she sipped on her drink and kept an eye on you.
Tonight she was working which wasn’t abnormal, but it also happened to be one of the few times where you had accompanied her. She’d decided that it was acceptable for two reasons. One, she wasn’t expecting this meeting to be particularly dangerous, and two Bucky and Steve were both here as well.
They blended in well with the patrons at the night club that Wanda used as her meeting place. It was busy enough that not many, if any people took notice of her in the VIP area, and it wasn’t like it mattered much anyway. Wanda only really cared about keeping an eye on you.
You had invited some friends out tonight, and you and your group of friends were enjoying the queer-artist inspired set. Although all of your friends were taken, Wanda had to remind herself multiple times not to get jealous when she caught one of them dancing closer to you than she deemed strictly necessary.
“Do you agree, Ms. Maximoff?”
The only sign that Wanda was caught off guard by the question was the subtle tightening of her fingers around her glass. She kept her expression neutral as she turned back to the woman across from her and nodded despite not having any idea what she was talking about. Last she remembered; they were reviewing notes for the meeting that should be starting any minute now.
She knew that she had to be more attentive for what came next. The woman she was talking to was visiting from the East Coast to discuss a supposedly mutually beneficial arrangement. Apparently, the sudden surge of competition Wanda found herself facing was due to a runway wannabe drug lord. She knew she could probably handle it on her own, but when the leader of the most influential group of criminals in New York asked for an audience, she knew she shouldn’t say no.
That said, she wasn’t sure what Bianca Sullivan had to offer her, and if she’s even be able to match it. She realizes she should have paid more attention to her talking points than how you continued to dance with your friends, but it couldn’t be helped. She was only human after all, and you looked way too good in those shorts.
The first sign that Bianca had arrived was the appearance of two of her guards setting up shop in the VIP area. When Wanda glanced toward the back entrance, she noted unfamiliar faces introducing themselves to her guards and then there she was.
The brunette was exactly what she expected. She had a severe expression and gave off the impression that she didn’t take shit from anyone. Wanda could respect this and she found herself smiling slightly as she stood up to greet the woman she’d only spoken with once. She watched out of the corner of her eye as her assistant left to get a waiter’s attention.
“Ms. Sullivan, welcome. I appreciate your willingness to meet here.”
Wanda didn’t bother to say that she wouldn’t have met her anywhere else. This was her territory, and it was only polite for the brunette to meet her here since she had something she wanted after all. Luckily, she sensed that the woman who offered her a brief yet firm handshake had a formidable business sense. She merely nodded before she settled into the plush seat across from Wanda with an enviable amount of grace.
“I appreciate you meeting with me at all, Ms. Maximoff. I know it’s a little unconventional.”
Although it was unnecessary, Wanda offered a small nod before she glanced to the waiter who brought Wanda a new drink and asked Bianca for her order. She isn’t surprised in the least by the other woman’s order, but she keeps her opinion to herself.
“I have to admit I’m intrigued. The group I’ve been dealing with has only grown since they first declared themselves a couple of weeks ago.”
Wanda watches as the brunette scowls at the thought, but she doesn’t get a chance to ask for the reason. She’s surprised by how upfront the other mob boss is. She discloses that someone she believed to be her ally, betrayed her, attempted to murder her, but when she’d failed, she fled here. It seemed like a random choice, but Wanda’s realized that very little that happened in her line of work was random.
It seems that she was right.
“I’m surprised that she made it this far, but unfortunately, for you, she’s causing trouble. I think I know how to handle her.”
Wanda finishes up her drink listening to the woman’s proposition. It seems simple despite the inherent complications of having Bianca’s people operating in her territory for a minimum of three weeks while they work on cleansing her city. She understands why Bianca doesn’t ask her to do it. Simply watching her talk about her former friend is telling enough. She feels responsible for her, and she wants to be the one to take her down.
“If you’re open to it, I’ll stay for as long as it takes to get rid of her.”
A familiar song reaches Wanda’s ears and she has to force herself to ignore it as she considers the cons of such an arrangement. She knows that the other woman isn’t here to stay and steal her business, but her presence is going to cause confusion and maybe even panic. She’ll have to spread the word that they have a new ally.
After almost a minute of deliberation, Wanda nods and sits up in her chair so she can set her glass down on the table between them.
“I don’t see why not. We’ll work out the arrangements and make sure my people don’t get in the way of yours.”
Bianca finally cracks a smile and Wanda is in the process of returning it when her gaze moves to over the brunette’s shoulder.
Baby don’t you like this beat? I made it so you’d sleep with me.
The way you dance to these words gives Wanda pause and she knows that the woman across from her notices. Still, she recovers quickly and tries to scrub the way your hips move against your friend’s from her brain. At least for now.
“Have you made hotel arrangements yet? I can offer a few suggestions if not.”
Bianca politely declines her offer with another genuine smile that Wanda feels is reserved for very few.
“Thank you, Ms. Maximoff, but my fiancée has already taken care of it.”
Wanda nods and the pair continue to talk logistics until Wanda’s distracted again a few minutes later. She plans on wrapping things up quickly so she can join you. Or maybe drag you from the dancefloor and into the nearest dark corner.
After arrangements are made to meet again tomorrow and talk strategy, Wanda decides to cut this meeting short. She sees Bianca’s gaze drift over her shoulder once again toward where her guards are, and she wonders who just arrived.
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I look forward to speaking with you again, Ms. Sullivan.”
Bianca nods and they both stand at the same time, their minds already on something else entirely.
“You as well, and thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Maximoff.”
Wanda barely notices her leaving the way she came as she makes eye contact with you. You’re smiling at her, and as soon as you realize you have her attention you take advantage of it. Wanda watches your mouth move, and you raise an arm and motion her toward you.
Baby, why don’t you come over?
Wanda doesn’t hear you say the words, but they still have their desired effect. She abandons the VIP area for the bustling dancefloor nearly running into half a dozen people on her way to you. She notices none of them and they seem to scatter the closer she gets to you. You’re still smiling and dancing as she reaches out for you, and she barely notices how your friends have discreetly turned away and formed a barrier between you and everyone else.
“It’s about time, Wands. I’ve been trying to use my feminine wiles to summon you for ages.”
Wanda rolls her eyes at your exaggerated tone before she pulls you closer by the hips with a huff. She takes a moment to admire the way you move as the beat of the song picks up. She tightens her hold on you when she remembers that you’ve been dancing like this without her for almost an hour.
She leans in so she doesn’t have to shout, and she smiles as you wrap your arms around her neck.
“I’m lucky that I’m the only one you summoned dancing like that.”
She hears you laugh and she pulls away to see you smiling mischievously before shrugging seemingly unconcerned.
“What can I say? Your meeting was taking too long.”
Wanda rolls her eyes again before she leans in to kiss you like she’s been wanting to all night. She pulls you flush against her and allows herself to pretend that it’s just the two of you. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.
Bianca smiles as she embraces her fiancée with a tired groan. It’s past 2am their time, and she’s exhausted, but at least she’s accomplished something. She’s glad that Wanda is amenable to their alliance because now she’s one step closer to ending things once and for all.
Maria puts an arm around her shoulders and shoots her a knowing look. She’s suddenly so relieved that her fiancée was willing to make this trip with her. Forget the fact she may not be in New York again for weeks. She always felt more settled when the redhead was around.
“Is it time to call it a night?”
Bianca considers having another drink with her fiancée, but it’s loud and she’s practically dead on her feet. So instead of cozying up here, she decides that the hotel that Maria booked will be more than sufficient.
“I think so. It’s been a long day.”
Maria smiles as she guides the taller woman down a dimly lit hallway toward the back of the club where they’d parked. She ignores the normal shadows that follow them everywhere and considers how she can help her future wife decompress.
“Agreed. I think a hot bath and a massage would be a perfect way to end this day, hmm?”
Bianca smiles brightly as she follows Maria out into the parking lot. She pauses just long enough to plant a kiss on her lips, much to the chagrin of her bodyguards, before nodding in agreement.
fuck it, i never ever do those “reblog for X, this one really works!” posts, but this one doesn’t have any of that BS, this is just straight up wishing us good things; and then the comment doesn’t even say any of that either. Zero claims on this post, all positive vibes
May you end this week feeling ever more certain of a future you’ll love
summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.
warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.
notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!
divider credits: @cafekitsune ★
Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.
That changed when she met you.
You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.
But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.
Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.
Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."
When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.
This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.
Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.
As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".
"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."
You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.
"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"
"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"
"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."
You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have
"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."
You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—
"Back off."
"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."
Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.
"She said back off."
Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.
"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.
"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"
"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.
"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.
Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.
"I... followed you."
"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.
"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.
The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.
"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."
This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"
She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."
You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.
Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."
You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.
Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.
"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.
The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.
You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.
The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.
"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"
"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"
You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.
"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.
"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.
"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."
"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"
"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"
"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."
You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"
"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."
"...go on."
Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."
You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.
"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"
You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.
"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"
Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.
"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.
"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.
Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.
"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"
"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"
"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"
"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.
"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.
"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."
Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.
"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.
"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"
"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"
Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.
"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"
You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.
summary: she wanted to sign the accords, you didn’t, and you didn’t see another way out
warnings: angst, some swearing
a/n: i know i originally said no pt 2 but i'm reconsidering (the reason i'm reposting is because i had an idea for a pt 2)
🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩
words: 1.5k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist
divider source | gif source
“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like,” She gripped your arm as you walked down the long hallway. “Try not to break anything while we fix this.”
She threw you a hard look and you turned your body to Steve, looking down and playing with the silver ring around your ring finger. Your heard the people around you exchanging remarks, but you couldn’t take your mind off the way Natasha looked at you.
You looked back down at the simple silver ring on your finger, thinking back to when Natasha gave it to you.
“It’s more discreet, so people know you’re taken even when you’re working.”
You thought it was adorable and it gave you something to fidget with on long trips during missions, and it always brought you comfort when you were away. But now it just felt like a weight dragging your body down. Steve bumped your arm, making you look up at his sympathetic smile.
“She’ll come around,” He said. You bit the inside of your lip, turning your attention back down to your hands. You and Natasha hadn’t been able to have a conversation without fighting ever since the accords were brought up. You didn’t want to sign it, she did.
The accords weaved themselves into every conversation you tried having. And you ended up passive aggressively yelling at each other every time before one of you hurt the other’s feelings, the only civil conversation you’d had ended in you lying through your teeth.
“I’m not gonna make you sign it,” She chuckled, running her hands through your hair when you were lying in bed before going to sleep. “But if you don’t sign it, what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll retire,” You said, she scoffed and you looked up at her. You didn’t want to lie, but every other time they were brought up, the two of you ended up in a fight. As much as you didn’t want to. Part of you thinks it’s because you knew they were the start of the end. “What?”
“Really?” You turned on your stomach, leaning up on your elbows and looking at her face, your eyes moving over her lips, her delicate nose, then the arch of her eyebrow. She cupped your cheek, tilting her head and letting a soft smile appear on her face.
“Nat, we’re getting married,” You twirled the diamond ring on your finger, something you had gotten used to doing ever since she put it on your finger. You finally looked into her eyes. “It’s probably time for one of us to start settling down.”
You were pulled from your thoughts as you started being ushered into a glass office, but before you reached the door, your arm was pulled back by Natasha who led you to a different office, one with more privacy and only one glass wall.
“I told you not to do this,” She said leaning both her hands on the table as you sat on the swivel chair across from her, resting your hands on the table and slouching on the chair. You avoided her eyes as you continued to spin the ring on your finger, you legs starting to bounce up and down. She sighed, trying to control her voice. “Not even a day after the accor-”
“You knew I was never gonna sign th-”
“This isn’t about signing the accords,” She interrupted you, her voice harsh and cold. “It’s about letting things cool down for a couple of days.”
“I wasn’t the one who bombed the conference,” You said, your tone mirroring hers as you sat up and looked her in the eyes.
“No, you were just the person helping him get away with it.”
“It wasn’t him,” You said as she sighed turning to the glass wall, making sure no one was paying attention. “And if you listened to me for one goddamn second, you would know that.”
“And if you hadn’t committed an international crime, maybe I would.”
“Look who’s talking,” You scoffed, looking back down at your hand, your attention returning to the ring on your finger. “As if you haven’t committed several crimes.”
“I never said I hadn’t,” Her fingers rubbed her temples as she pulled a chair up to the table across from you. “But I’ve changed since then, I know better now.”
“Really? It doesn’t seem like it,” You said, refusing to look away from her. Her eyes were locked onto yours. You felt the knot rise up in your throat, feeling your chest tighten with her harsh look on you.
“Look what we became,” You mumbled out voice breaking and running your hands through your hair. Natasha took a deep breath, looking through the glass wall to see if anyone was looking and taking the time away from your eyes to wipe the tear that had escaped. You sat back, fumbling with the ring on your finger which made another wave of dread rip through you. You loved Natasha and it felt like your heart was being torn out of your chest by letting this get between the two of you.
“Is this what it’s gonna be from now on? Walking on eggshells all the time? And what happens if I do something, are you gonna arrest me?”
“No, I’m not gonna arrest you-”
“Then what the hell is this?” You mumbled to yourself, but made her pause her sentence, giving you a sharp look.
“Someone will. And this is an office, Y/N, it’s a hell of a lot better than a cell,” Her eyes were cold and her tone was harsh, it tightened the knot in your throat and you had to swallow hard to keep yourself from breaking apart in front of her. “And what if I’m not there to clean up the mess you make?”
“You’re the one that signed those accords-“
“You’re the one that said you were gonna retire.”
“Then I guess you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.” You raised your voice, trying to keep it from breaking. She fought back the tears threatening her composure, it broke your heart. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself.
She was silent as you returned to playing with the ring on your finger, refusing to look at her. Her eyes however, locked back onto on you.
“Where do we go from here?” Her voice was controlled, her eyes also trained on the way you started taking your engagement ring on and off as you were deep in thought.
“You tell me, Natasha,” You looked back up at her, her green eyes burning holes into your skin.
“I want you to sign the accords,” You rolled your eyes, leaning back onto the chair and looking at the wall. “Please, for me.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “I know when SHIELD fell, you took a hit-”
“This isn’t about SHIELD.”
“But it is,” She sighed an exasperated sigh as you looked into her eyes.
“I don’t want to be someone you resent,” She said, your eyes making their way back to looking at her. “I already signed the accords, if you signed it, it would solve the problem.”
“You made that decision on your own Natasha,” You said, barely above your breath but loud enough for Natasha to hear. She stopped herself, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “It used to be different between us, it used to be ‘if you were going down, I’m going down with you,’ but now-”
“It’s still like that,” She said, but you suddenly stood off your chair.
“No it’s not,” You raised you voice again. “Ever since you decided to sign the accords, it turned into you against me. I’m not gonna stop, Nat, am I just gonna be a criminal to you now?”
She was silent, and when you blinked, tears escaped out of the corners of your eyes. “There’s only one way to solve this problem now.”
You didn’t want her to have to watch over you for the rest of your lives. You didn’t want to have to keep things from her, and you didn’t want her not to trust you. You were able to read her like the back of your hand just a few days ago and now she felt like a stranger.
“What are you saying?” She asked, hoping you didn’t mean what she thought you did. “Are you gonna sign the accords?”
Your lip quivered as you swallowed the knot in your throat and rolled the thin silver band across the table towards her. The rolling sound of metal on wood echoing around the room. Your vision blurred and you flinched when she slammed her hand onto the ring and dragged it off the table.
Her face hardened and her jaw squared. She walked out of the room as you fell back into your chair, looking up at the ceiling and trying to keep your tears at bay.
Natasha clutched your ring as she made her way back to the main room, her eyes focusing on Bucky’s video feed, but the sound being drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Her arms crossed around her body as she attempted to keep herself from falling apart. But the look on your face as you refused to meet her eyes was frozen in her mind.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬)/𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬): Natasha Romanoff x Reader, , Platonic!Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Platonic!Avengers x Reader
𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: Mutual Pinning, Friends to Lovers
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3000+
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: playful teasing and SO MUCH FLUFF
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been irritating a certain red headed assassin that you hang out with everyone at the compound but her. But the moment you send her a text, she’s in shambles to say the least.
𝐀𝐍: I unfortunately do not own Bob’s Burgers.
Italics = Flashbacks
Bold Italics = Natasha’s thoughts
Bold = Reader’s thoughts
Enjoy! <3
Y/n | 10:04 AM
Hi hi :D ya busy today?
Natty <3 | 10:04 AM
No, why do you ask?
Natasha narrowed her eyes as the text bubble popped up and disappeared repeatedly before it stopped showing on her screen altogether. With a furrowed brow she placed her phone down on her desk face up. She attempted getting back to work on her laptop but could no longer focus. The redhead chose to work in her room today instead of her office. Ironically enough Y/n is the reason why.
It had been months since they had begun (practically living in) visiting the Avengers compound. Y/n was introduced to the team by Peter. They both live in the same apartment complex a few blocks away from Peter’s university. She is one of the people who make him feel proud to be Spider- Man. From the moment Peter introduced them it was almost as if the Avengers had known her for years. Everyone was enamored with her. Wanda and her cuddled at random intervals while watching sitcoms or cooking/baking in the kitchen together. Pietro, Peter and Y/n play video games and board games with one another on a regular basis. Thor shares his pop tarts with them while talking about Asgard and Midgard’s (Earth) societal differences and similarities. Sam and Bucky have played Just Dance and have had karaoke sessions with her for the longest time. Y/n provided both Vision and Bruce with the quietness they needed that the others could not always give. Clint and Y/n routinely play pranks on each other and the others and sometimes they spar. Usually the fastest way to make Tony and Steve stop arguing was by letting them hash things out and leaving them alone. The way Tony and Steve’s faces light up whenever you enter a room is enough to stop all arguments whatsoever. Hell even when Carol visits from time to time she is latched to the blonde’s side watching thrillers and space documentaries.
The only one Y/n had rarely spoken to was Natasha-not that the red head cares...but damn she feels left out. Why did Y/n choose to hang out with everyone but her? Did she somehow scare them off? The two of you had small talk with one another and they would bless Natasha with the occasional hug but that was it. Was it her? Was she the problem? Maybe she just wasn’t welcoming enough, maybe–
Y/n | 10:08 AM
I just wanted to hang out, if you’re not busy :)
Y/n | 10:09 AM
If you are, it's okay I understand!!
Natasha’s knee jerk reaction was to say that she was busy. In fact she was halfway through sending that exact message on her phone. She paused and deleted the text; the work she’s doing isn’t due for another week. The redhead despises procrastinating; her logic is always ‘If I can get out of the way now why wait?’. The more complex documents and forms? Yeah okay she takes her time but this was like chewing gum and walking at the same time. Should she really toss it to the side? Just to hang out with her.…As if they haven’t been on my mind 24/7. Natasha thought to herself and rolled her eyes. Her phone went off once more signaling another text message had gone through.
Y/n | 10:11 AM
I’ll even act my age for once lol
The Russian furrowed her brow. She adores her just the way she is. Y/n was so charming and sweet, it made her heart soar. Natasha loves the way the pitch of their voice changes whenever they’re happy. Their playful nature and contagious grins made Natasha feel carefree. She just wishes one would be directed at her. It can be.
Natty <3 | 10:13 AM
I like the way you act
Natty <3 | 10:13 AM
The doors unlocked just knock, we can order some food
Natasha shut down her laptop and stood to her feet. Shit when was the last time she had company? Maybe Wanda? But even then they left her room to go watch tv in the living room. It wasn’t like her room was dirty. Oh god why did I leave my socks out. She wasn’t living in roach infested filth. But she sure as hell was not prepared for company even though she agreed to having it. Natasha's gut felt full. What if Y/n had no interest in dating her at all.
The red head stopped her movements. Dating? I have barely had a conversation with them. Who said anything about dating? She should not be this distressed. Natasha shook out her hands absentmindedly and tilted her head. Breathe, Romanoff. She took a deep breath and couldn’t help but panic when a knock came from the door.
“Natty?”
Natty? Oh god how cute. Natasha nearly keeled over from the nice tone of your voice and her anxiety. A major knock-out combo. The redhead would get diabetes from how sweet you are by the time she was done spending time with you.
“Come in.” She responded in a practiced relaxed tone despite how much of an internal mess she was.
Y/n stuck their head through the doorway with wide eyes scanning their new surroundings. The assassin's room suited her extremely well. However they could not interpret why she was willing to spend time with them. Y/n was just as aware as Natasha was that they never spent any time together. It always felt like the redhead was too busy and whenever they were alone in a room together Y/n never knew what to say. The two idiots clearly have the same problem. The moment Y/n’s eyes landed on Natasha, she smiled and absentmindedly shuffled into the doorway.
She had a cluster of snacks in her arms. They made sure to get various ones that her and Natasha would like. One of which was a pack of red twizzlers. Y/n was disgusted by the red roped candy but knew Natasha enjoyed them. Y/n scrunched up their nose in disgust just thinking about how the treat tastes. Candy should not be strawberry flavored.
“Is something wrong?” Natasha asked, noticing their expression. Her not entering the room fully had the assassin on edge and she struggled not to make it show.
Their eyes widened slightly. “I was just remembering how Clint told me you like twizzlers,” Natasha began to smile. “But I don’t know why because they’re disgusting.” Natasha scoffed and placed her fists on her hips comically. Y/n giggled and walked into the room, dropping the snacks on the bed.
“They’re very delicious, excuse me.” Natasha had no clue why her voice had taken on such a playful tone but she continued once she saw the smile it brought to Y/n’s face.
“They’re artificial fruit sticks, Tasha.” Y/n replied with a large grin and their fingers intertwined. “Oh! He also said you like documentaries but I knew he was lying unless he was talking about crime documentaries or political conspiracy theory ones. I was talking to myself and was like ‘Natty seems like the crime and conspiracy theory documentaries type.’ But I could be wrong…” Y/n rambled, bending down at the waist to organize the snacks on the bed again. “But, I feel like you would also like Bob's Burgers and similar shows like that, Peter says you act like Louise sometimes.” Y/n tensed up at the look Natasha gave them. The redhead’s face was unreadable. “Do I have something on my face?” They asked, turning to the mirror on the wall next to the bathroom.
Natasha shook her head. “I like Bob’s Burgers. I've seen a few episodes with Wanda.”
Y/n gasped, their sparkling eyes and open mouth grin made the redhead's body fill with warmth. “We need to watch it together!” She reached over to grab Natasha’s hand and froze mid air. “…Is…is that okay?”
The assassin felt her heart clench in her chest. She reached for Y/n’s hovering hand before she dropped it entirely. “That’s more than okay.” Natasha knows she said the right thing when she squeals with delight and tugs her down on the bed to sit beside her.
///////////////
“You smell like ointment and pee!"
Natasha and Y/n laughed at Louise’s banter with the old man. The pair has been binge watching Bob’s burgers for the past few weeks. After a short time apart the redhead returned from her mission on Saturday and they’ve been spending time together ever since. Natasha grasped the remote and paused the show; it was almost one pm.
“What do you want for lunch?” She asked, resisting the urge to stroke Y/n’s cheek with her thumb.
“Chinese?” They suggested, tossing the last piece of popcorn in their mouth.
Natasha nodded her head then squeezed her hand twice before letting go. Y/n pouted but accepted the lack of contact knowing the former assassin needed both hands to order the food.
After moving past the initial awkwardness the two had begun setting time aside every week to watch Bob’s Burgers together. Y/n never realized that their favorite part of every week could be seeing Natasha. Who knew the widow‘s heart was so large. Y/n can’t even imagine how different things would be if she had never texted Natasha to begin with. Outside of watching tv with one another their friendship left an impact on their everyday lives. At first the redhead was fearful that Y/n would only properly acknowledge her when they watched tv. But that wasn’t the case and she knew otherwise when two days later Y/n wrapped her into a warm hug with a jovial greeting.
Natasha would be going on a mission soon and this one was longer than the last. This was a mission that would last for two weeks, possibly more. Suddenly, Y/n was around Natasha just as much as they were around Wanda. Not that the redhead minded. In fact she loved it. Would she say that out loud? No but you both knew.
Y/n was fully aware that this only made their feelings towards the redhead grow stronger. Absence also makes the heart grow fonder. She hasn’t been on a mission for longer than 3 days ever since they started spending time together. Whenever Natasha would get back from those missions the pair would act as if they haven’t seen one another in weeks. Y/n embracing Natasha and Natasha beaming while picking her up off the ground.
Even for those missions Y/n found herself pouting over the thought of watching Bob’s Burgers without her. The idea of Natasha leaving for that long alone made you irritable and whiny. Almost like a dramatic husky. Y/n zoned out even more from their surroundings as they recalled the conversation they had with Wanda earlier this week.
“дорогой throughout the entirety of me knowing you, you have never clung to me the way you do Natasha…I would be offended if I didn’t spend more time with you than she does.” Wanda teased, chuckling as they shoved her shoulder playfully.
Y/n continued to cut up the carrots on the cutting board in front of them with an exasperated huff. “I love all my red headed hoes equally.” The duo bursts into a fit of giggles. “But I do realize I’m more romantically attached to Natasha than platonically…”
Wanda’s grin was unhinged. “Meaning?”
Y/n rolled their eyes and grumbled.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Wanda questioned knowing she was close enough to make out every word. She even lifted her hand to her ear to ‘hear you better’.
They cleared their throat and turned their head the other way. “I like Natasha.” Y/n spoke clear as day then turned back to Wanda with a gasp and wide eyes. “Oh my gosh who said that.”
Wanda easily played along; her eyes now equally as wide. “Oh my goodness I have no idea.” You both went into hysterics; laughing loudly.
Soon the atmosphere was only filled with the sound of boiling broth and Y/n and Wanda cutting vegetables. Y/n turned and dumped the carrots they chopped into the pot, Wanda following to dump in the potatoes.
“You should tell her.” Wanda stated gently, looking at Y/n with that motherly warmth in her eyes. Even though they were around the same age Wanda never missed the opportunity to mother Y/n whenever she could.
Y/n sighed, “She’s leaving on a mission soon.”
“So tell her before she leaves.” Wanda suggests, intertwining their arms. “If she rejects you, which I doubt she will, then you’ll be able to not see her for two weeks and have time to be sad about it while she’s gone.”
“True…I just figured it would be the coward's way out because if she says yes then I won’t be able to hold or kiss her the way I want to for 2 weeks.” Y/n added in response, shrugging their shoulders.
Wanda patted their arm. “Oh it is honey.” She chuckled. “God you two are worse than Vision and I and you haven’t even started dating yet.”
“Y/n? детка? Are you alright?” Natasha questioned, her hand now on your cheek. Her brows furrowed and frowning lips.
Y/n grinned. “Baby?”
Natasha blushed and pulled her hand away while rolling her eyes. “Clearly you’re fine.” She huffed but the smirk on her face made you know she was not upset. “I ordered the food–”
“Thank you, how did you know what I-”
“Yes I got your chicken egg rolls.” Natasha spoke at the same time as you. The redhead blushed even harder than before. “I memorized your order.”
Y/n sported a pensive stare with pursed lips. The last time they had Chinese was with the Avengers 3 weeks ago. Natasha memorized their order. Then again she was trained to have a good memory– no, she remembered my order.
“Natty, can I talk to you?” Y/n’s voice came out softer than they intended it to. The most gentle of whispers. Natasha raised her hand and rested it on her cheek. Not an ounce of apprehension existed on the redhead's face. Y/n made Natasha’s room feel more breathable and alive. The redhead had told them as much.
“Everything feels lighter when you’re around.”
“Same for me Natasha.”
God we're both idiots. They released a much needed groan and slapped their hand against their forehead. “You like me.” Natasha resembled a deer in the headlights. “And I like you.” They sighed looking into Natasha’s emerald orbs.
“Emerald is my favorite, they remind me of your eyes.
“Your favorite color are my eyes?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s gay.”
“Like you.”
“Touché.”
“I like you so much Natty you intimidated me the moment I laid eyes on you.” They began. “Not because of the fear you instill within people after a single look, but…you’re just so pretty.” The sigh they released was one of relief and embarrassment.
“You’re so pretty Natty, I’m going to combust.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I look like I just rolled out of bed.”
“And yet you’re still the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”
“The time we have been wasting– oh my goodness gracious this is like that episode of Bob's burgers when–”
“Wait baby…focus.”
“Right sorry- you called me baby again.” Their eyes widened slightly and their lips formed a smile instantly.
Natasha rolled her eyes. “You like me?” She asked enough disbelief in her tone to shock Y/n completely.
“What isn’t there to like?”
“I’m a murderer.” Natasha’s knee jerk response made her flinch.
Y/n rolled their eyes while sporting a grin. “Natty I like you for who you are now not who you were.”
The redhead’s eyes become glassy and her vision begins to blur. She turned her head and brushed her nose with the back of her hand. “I…I uhm…I was not expecting you. At all.” All traces of tears were gone but left behind were the redness in her cheeks. “You get dragged in by Peter after he meets you in his apartment complex and you steal everyone’s heart.” Natasha laughs while shaking her head. “I thought you didn’t like me but nope you loser I just intimidate you because of how gay you are.”
“Says the lesbian?!”
“Okay and?” Natasha and Y/n laugh in harmony. “I’m glad I met you, because there is no one else I would rather be spending this much time with–don’t tell Clint I said this than” Y/n giggled and Natasha grinned. “ you…you make me feel so so…free.” The redhead blatantly glared at you then punched your shoulder. “So for you to do this right before I leave for a mission makes me want to kiss and punch your adorable sweet little face.”
“My face is not little.”
Natasha rolls her eyes at your response. Y/n chuckles and leans forward. “I like you so much.” The assassin melts at the softness of their features. The carefree expression that they wore on their face. Natasha wondered how she held the ability to gain this reaction from a magnificent human being. “I never enjoyed the thought of being away from you after we began hanging out more and speaking more. I always feel so calm and at peace when I’m around you Natty. You’re beautiful.”
God, Y/n’s face was just so…cute. To feel the softness of their lips is a scenario Natasha has dreamed about for the past few weeks. The smell of Y/n’s cocoa butter lip balm permeating her senses was the last straw. Y/n’s eyes widened at the pillow softness that collided against their own plump lips. The smell of cherry was under their nose. Natasha’s chapstick. Y/n kisses back with just as much gentleness as Natasha. The assassin can’t help but smile. She wrapped her arms around their shoulders, carefully pushing herself closer to them. Y/n reaches up and places Natasha’s face in their palms before pulling away. They carefully wiped the tears off of the redheads cheeks and from under her eyes.
Warnings: homophobia/biphobia, alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, language
Summary: Your mother has always been getting on your nerves about your relationship status, and with your brother’s marriage coming up it’s been at an all time high. Tired of it all, you decide to bring your partner to the wedding and say so to her. Only problem? You don’t have a partner. Lucky for you, your best friend comes up with the worst idea you ever heard. Since it’s your only hope, other than living as a hermit for the rest of your life, you run with it.
